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Monthly Archives: September 2017

Pugar “The Magician” Arreon claims his big brother is a Warp Talon and that’s where he got the awesome helmet and chainsword; while the claim is patently ridiculous the sword is basically brand new … there’s no Nurgle rot, Tzeentchian sigils, and not nearly enough blood to have been looted from Khornish marines. Exactly how Pugar acquired is unclear.

In the revelry after a particularly successful battle another cultists, Cruga tried to insult Pugar by calling him a lumberjack, and Pugar responded by sawing him in half and then proclaiming that he couldn’t put Cruga back together so he was apparently a pretty piss poor magician. This struck a cord with the rest of the cult, and now there are usually raucous calls to “Show us a magic trick” from everyone else in his squad when they charge into battle.

Pugar has the distinction of having one of the few Chaos amulets not made by Moebius, though he’s not clear on the origins since it was attached when “his brother gave it to him.”

The sword and helmet are indeed spares from the Warp Talon/Lightning Claws kit. The pistol is actually from a Kharadron Overlord kit (aka fantasy sky dwarves).

Dael’s Adventure Part 4

Start from the beginning

After conferring with Cilla at the Eight Arms offices, we reconvened at our new defensive Headquarters, the estate of Killian Shae. There we discovered (from Killian) that all of the help had gone missing, and Cilla explained a little about why the black good had her and Killian so worried. Specifically there had been a war between Light, Shadow with the city of Basingstock right in the middle. Honestly it was a little confusing but as far as I understand it the Light faction was trying to create a light plain* since there was already a shadow plain, but somehow doing that would destroy the world because Basingstock already had a light plain? Basically people from Shadow were attacking, and some of them were bad, but the light people were doing a dumb thing and once the founders of the Eight Arms explained things the light people were very very sorry.

*Editors note: Dael is confused because he doesn’t understand Planer Cosmology.

We split up again to search the house, this time I paired up with Vyrez, hoping to ask him some questions. I guess I was a little bit indelicate, though it could also be that he just doesn’t like talking, but apparently he devoted himself to Pharasma and without irony adopted a stance of detestation of undead, even though apparently he was already undead at the time he did so. I guess I’ll have to be more tactful next time I get a chance to talk to him, as that was about all I could garner whilst we searched the servants quarters.

Honch and Hubert searched the kitchens and also found nothing. However Mortia and Solei figured out that anyone who went to bed disappeared. We were about to go search for Killian, as he’d proclaimed he was going to bed just before we split up, but before we could, we were ambushed! I’d never seen an actual goblin before, and hadn’t quite believed the description of how wider their mouths were, but seeing them in person was quite an experience!  Their mad cackling and the way they threw themselves into the fray without concern for self-preservation was kind of disheartening. Fortunately for us most of them were fairly tiny, and a bop or two on the head would knock them out. Their maniacal shaman took a bit of effort, and I later learned there was a berserker at the top of the stairs that kept most of the party busy while Vyrez and I dealt with the rest. We had just barely gotten the situation under control when fire started spreading; at first I thought the goblins had started it, as they are known for their pyromania, but once we had defeated them and escaped the building we discovered the truth.

Outside were 5 emo looking ne’er do wells. Dressed in black, dour expressions, too much makeup and mostly in monochrome, the leader who we would later find was imaginatively named Darkness (hold on they’ve got a theme, which I’ll get to in good time) was chuckling maliciously. They demanded to speak with the various leaders of the eight arms, finally settling on tasking us with finding a corpse. They did go on to explain that their group was called the Diviners, the other four were Desire, Despair, Doldrums and Dread and that they were Oneironaughts which i guess is Dream Travelers? And slightly explains why they all picked named which began with D. Further apparently we are now in a dream version of Basingstock, and if we go to sleep before we find this corpse for them we’ll be trapped in the dream forever?

After talking with Cilla it’s apparent that a licensed necromancer by the name of Sammael was the last one in possession of the corpse, which I guess makes sense, but unfortunately he’s no where near Basingstock, possibly on some other plain. So we’ve set up shop in the estate of the head of the Baker’s Guild, hoping that since she’s generally well liked, no one will be having evil dreams about her. And I guess the next order of business is to figure out how to escape?!

March ’54

Progress is slow, but the second cannery is done. A new dock has been started, to allow for more traffic, the previous one just won’t be able to support the amount of incoming and outgoing cargo that we anticipate. Housing is lagging behind a bit, but hopefully we can get the the contracts on the new apartment blocks facilitated… just might have to grease some palms or relax some safety regulations. I mean really, a nice apartment is surely going to be safer than some rickety shack so it’ll be an improvement overall.


December ’54

Just in time for Christmas, we’ve spent a huge amount to bring electricity to the dock front. Primarily this was to enable flash freezing of the coffee, however surely AC in the apartments will make all of the workers happy!

March ’55

I need some cake and circuses or whatever the phrase is. One of our residents has started a protest because she was bored. I mean, there’s plenty of work to do, and we’re currently operating at a deficit after spending way too much to bring electricity to the apartment complexes. I guess we’ll have to build some sort of entertainment for the locals. I wish they would just work all the time when they weren’t sleeping.

August ’55

It’s taken nearly five months, but we’ve finally gotten paid for the latest Coffee export, at $37k we’re not only back in the back, but primed to build some primo entertainment facilities to keep my populace mollified.

November ’55

And we’re broke again, I really need to reign in my spending, but there’s so much we need. A Childhood Museum to entertain and enlighten, a Casino (rush built) to bring in a little more money, and a Clinic and Church. The sad truth is that month to month we have to operate at a deficit, though the frequent shipments more than make up for it, I really need to keep a few dollars put by for day to day operations of the island.

Svokai Moriz is not one of the sanest individuals in the cult. It probably started when he misunderstood Seanan’s silver regimen and took a few doses of mercury. He’s since started taking the proper dosage of silver instead, but his lack of focus has left him nicknamed Wild Eyes Kai. He also dyes his beard, though it’s probably just because Anram does and so Kai assumes that was what you were supposed to do. It’s widely considered that he’s received a gift of inhuman strength from Slaanesh, because even a space marine might be hard pressed to carry around as ridiculous of a load as Kai does in the form of, in his own words, “reloads for me flail, in case I runs out in the middles of a fight. It wouldn’t do, no, not at all.” That’s right he carries what is basically 4 cannon balls around in his backpack, and doesn’t seemed phased by it in the slightly. I did warn you he wasn’t all there.

Kai usually claims he aspires to be a spaceship pilot, but his aspirations aren’t entirely consistent, and he as at various times expressed plans to become a Daemon Princess, Defiler, Ork Nob or Motorcycle. While some of this is attributable to lack of sanity, the truth is most of his poor grasp on reality is probably due to his rampant drug use (even for a Slaaneshii cultist). If he has indeed received a boon it’s likely to actually be immunity to overdosing.

Dael’s Adventure Part 3

Start from the beginning

With our heroes triumphant we bound the thugs. The orc started to torture them for information but we managed to calm him down and the surviving Ebonbiters seemed perfectly willing to talk without the need for disfiguring them with hammer blows. We dispatched one of our number to locate and bring a patrol of the night watch. We did our best to explain the situation and events leading up to it, however between several of us trying to explain at the same time, and the rather amazing nature of events it rapidly became apparent that they believed we were indeed working for Eight Arms, but on the down low.

They became more and more dubious of our story as it progressed, to the point where the guard said “Audible Wink, and then the giant wolf attacked.” It was fairly obvious to me there was more going on… I mean even the orc couldn’t have bitten the wererat’s head off, but the guardsman was having none of it, and they’d trundled the thugs off before I could even finish explaining about the Manticore.

We did our best to re-secure the Wilkerton Shipping warehouse, however with two busted windows we figured it best to stay and keep guarding the place for the rest of the night. That is, until Hubert noticed something weird with his watch and the city bell not agreeing. Solei and I climbed to the roof, but couldn’t quite see the bell so it was decided to send some people to the clock tower to investigate however things kind of got out of control with everyone wanting to go on this excursion except me… and I certainly wasn’t going to guard the warehouse on my own, so we abandoned our post.

Upon arrival the clock was still showing midnight, no staff was apparent, and the lock on the door thwarted both Solei and Mortia’s attempts to bypass it so we returned to the Eight Arms office to report in. It then transpired that Cilla considered the black goo to be extremely dangerous, and so she hired all 6 of us on the spot. She had us split up into three groups to notify apparent movers and shakers. Solei and I headed to the park to try and track down Crazy Eddie and his pet dragon Teawrecks; who apparently it is a bad idea to fight though I’m not quite sure why anyone sane would pick a fight with a dragon, much less a domesticated one. We were unable to locate the erstwhile Eddie, but we did encounter some exploding ninjas who were very impolite and threw poisoned knives at us. However our failure to locate Eddie was probably the least ignominious of our three parties.

Honch and Vyrez went to the slums to try and locate a retired sea captain named Gallagher. They also encountered an exploding ninja, but in the process of defeating it basically leveled the poor captain’s abode, as well as broke into a neighbors house to try and find additional information.

Hubert and Mortia went to Killian Shea’s estate, an elven noble. They ran afoul of, and destroyed his automated security and then it transpired that most (or possibly all) of his help aside from a single guard had disappeared. When they named dropped the Radiant Kings Killian was willing to host/relocate the Eight Arms to his estate as a sort of temporary HQ to deal with the process.

Dael’s Adventure Part 2

Start from the beginning
So it turns out The Eight Arms only had two positions open, and 6 applicants. Dael wasn’t too worried about succeeding, in fact he was pretty sure several of the others were far more qualified than he was as adventurers, but seeing the rest of them work together or at odds would probably be at least one worthwhile entry in his log book, and he could surely find some work elsewhere in the likely event he didn’t get one of the two openings.

Eight Arms : The Six Applicants

Dael: Aesthetic Monk and Drunken Master.

Solei: She looks like a fighter with her heavy armor, but seems by turns sneaky and arcane.

Honch: A big half-ork. His bearing says ex-military; something tells me he didn’t spend that much time in the front lines.

Vyrez: This one I’m not sure about. Maybe he’s a vampire? He looks half dead; he is certainly intimidating. I’m sure his story will be interesting. I kind of hope it’s the two of us so I can have a good excuse to ask him questions.

Mortia and Hubert: I’m not sure what to make of this mystical couple. Sometimes it seems like they are paying so much attention to each other they don’t see the wolf in front of them.

Ebonbiters bite off more than they can chew

In this instance, the proving would be in protecting a warehouse for the night. The desire was to not only prevent the looting of the warehouse, but also to capture alive as many possible. We arrived at the warehouse shortly before dusk. With basically no discussion of plan we each cased building on our own and then proceeded to surround the building in a vary obvious manner. Varyz and Honch both tried to be nonchalant, while Mortia attempted to break into one of the side doors. Meanwhile I’d stepped into a nearby bar and procured a large bottle of local swill, which wasn’t much better than water, though it certainly had a lot more character than most water does. With my ale in hand I could rest outside the bar and watch two of the exits.

A group of thugs approached, and well, I must admit the swill was a bit stronger than I expected and I took it upon myself to try and apprehend all three of them at once. In hindsight, I’m pretty sure there were more of them then my initial reckoning summed to, and I was rapidly overwhelmed. Fortunately Hubert came to my rescue and with his aid, as well as that of Vyrez we were able to knock out pretty much all of the thugs. I did not witness it first hand, but apparently at the same time a wererat and several giant rats snuck into the warehouse through a window, espied only by Solei who finished the job Mortia started and gained entrance through the side door.

Just as we were finishing off the thugs in the front of the building, a giant ice wolf and a manticore joined the scene making it a 3 way battle. Honch forced the front gate open and we joined battle against these terrifying beasts. After a hard fight against the wolf it turned into some sort of black goo, with the head of the wererat lying where it’s stomach had been. Fortunately for us this seemed to frighten off the Manticore.

I do wish I’d made it inside the warehouse sooner, I’m sure the wererat would have been a sight to behold while alive. That said, even if I don’t get the job, this night alone has already been fantastic enough that I doubt any of the elders will be unimpressed.

Dael is a monk from The Aesthetic Order of Cluodesa, a group founded on a misspelling, or so the story goes.  As the final part of his initiation a monk must walk the world, appreciating many things, ideally that few others in the Order have experienced. Since few of the Order have visited Basingstock, this seemed the ideal location, being a fairly large city, but far enough from the monastery that most initiates instead trek to Hornshroud which has a slightly higher population, but is also much closer.

Dael had been in the city for a few months, travelling around and seeing the sights, and sampling all the city has to offer, and keeping meticulous notes in his log book. While he started in the more well to do districts, sleeping in luxury, admiring fine parks and museums, eating at the finest establishments (some of the newer ones which no Cluodesa monks had previously patronized) and having a fairly great time, as the months passed his funds rapidly diminished and he moved to the more middle class districts, sampling theater and street fare, sleeping in more common inns and boarding houses. Eventually he moved on to the lower class districts, and slums. Sampling the life and entertainments of the poor and downtrodden.

Now Dael has sampled a broad cross section of all the city has to offer, he’s decided it’s time to build up the cash for a trip out of the city and on to see some of the wilderness and areas around Basingstock, and to that end he has responded to an advertisement for employment with Eight Arms Adventuring Guild. If nothing else, his employment might take him on some adventures outside the city, where who knows what he’ll see.

January ’53

My scientists have told me they can send me back in time, though only 3 years. However thanks to this I’ll be able to take advantage of certain key world events, as long as I can make a success of myself on another island. And don’t go visit any islands where I’ve already established myself. Apparently meeting oneself from another timeline will destabilize the sub-reality infundabilium. Or something like that, I’m not super clear on the terms. However I’ve got a contract with Mr. Preston from America and I think I can make a rum up job of it, even if the settlement here is pretty sparse.

March ’53

Initial survey results are in, and the mineral wealth of this island is so abysmal it should probably be called mineral poverty. We’re going to have to create a thriving import/export business, and profit from being the middle man. Fortunately, as far as shipping lanes go, we are right in the middle. A little of the old ‘buy low, sell high’ and I should be rolling in the dough in no time. The first step is of course to build a Custom’s Office. Hopefully the workers on this island are a little more diligent.

September ’53

The Customs Office is finished and the foundations for a couple of cannaries and apartment complexes have been laid down. This should enable to us buy cheap coffee, repackage it, and then sell it at considerable markup. Perfect!

Brunacus Liruxa, Brunus to his friends has been thrice blessed. Early in his career he manage to toss a grenade into a bunker where a couple of Space Marines were inspecting an Imperial Guard weapons cache. The resulting explosion obliterated all of the occupants and was pretty spectacular to boot. Brunus’s tongue grew three sizes that day, and that night during the celebration he used it to it’s fullest, earning his second boon, his magnificent horns. Brunus treats them like an art piece, painting them garish colors as the mood suites him. Further, his facility with his tongue has lead to his mouth being wired open with consecrated wire, and it’s been declared that as a shrine to Slaanesh his mouth was free use. His willing acceptance, nay embracing of his new status is likely what what lead to his third and most recent boon, one of the highest honors any cultist is likely to see, a crab like daemonette claw.

Brunus is generally considered rather dapper, wearing a silk neckerchief of one stripe or another at almost all times. Amazingly, despite the crab claw he is also an adroit sewer, and will often loot the finest textiles and clothes on raids to repair or improve the clothing and gear of the other cultists. His excellent disposition in combination with his other qualities has lead him to be a cult favorite and though he doesn’t know it, the rest of the cult do their best to keep him out of of the thickest combat during battles, feeling his talents can best serve Slaanesh outside of the battlefield.

February ’65

A couple of tourist have been abducted and held hostage! How terrible. We’ll send the army in and rescue them, no tourists will be injured during my watch!


November ’65

The islands first roller coaster is finished, this should be a huge tourist draw, and hopefully will be the start of an amazing theme park.


February ’66

Election results are in, and yet again the people love me. 88% voted in my favor. I suppose i’m slipping a bit. On the bright side I’m at nearly 900k Followers, I’m quickly approaching my self set goal of a million Tweeters!


April ’66

Success! I’ll let the picture speak for itself! I wonder if those tourists were ever rescued? Oh well, I’m sure the army will manage it if they haven’t already, but I have business elsewhere; CEO Keith Preston has a lucrative contract for me on Yermo Encarnado, and I feel if I stayed much longer on this island the volcano would surely erupt. Better to leave while I’m ahead as they say in poker.