Thorax, Level 1

Name: Thorax
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Level: 1

Mutations: Cranial Feelers

ADA: 13
DEX: 12
ESP: 9
INT: 7
LEA: 8
LUC: 13
MAG: 4
ROB: 14
STR: 18

HP: 16
Melee Damage +8
Missile Damage: +2
XP: 50
Bare Hands Damage: 1-6
GCs: 0

Alchemist: 8%
Appease: 56%
Argue: 34%
Camping: 63%
Clue: 29%
Command: 41%
Command Energy: 18%
Command Matter: 14%
Conjure: -3%
Consume Alien: 10%
Crowd Manipulate: 16%
Enrich: 24%
Ensorcel: 15%
Experience Bonus: 1%
Great Feat: 41%
Guard: 69%
Happenstance: 28%
Invisibility: 78%
Labor: 92%
Lesser Feat: 100%
Logic: 35%
Machine Friend: 40%
Magical Attack: 6%
Melee Attack: 111%
Missile Attack: 59%
Mistaken Identity: 16%
Monster Friend: 10%
PSI Resist: 10%
Psychic Implant: 7%
Read Minds: 20%
Restore Courage: 21%
Saving Throw: 18% (28% save by shield)
Scholarship: -1%
Seduce: 0%
See the Future: 2%
Sneak: 20%
Sneak Attack: 42%
Steal: 19%
Survival: 42%
Unpleasant Order: 70%

EQUIPMENT: Dual-Bladed Psi-Knight Saber Hilt (broken, used as black hole metal club), wilderness gear (too small), modern grenade, iron-shod shield.

INOPERABLE EQUIPMENT: power lighter, witch indicator, self-adjusting trephanation kit, pan-species prophylactic.

Dual-Bladed Psi-Knight Saber Hilt stats: DAMAGE: 2-12; RANGE 1"; SCARE 28%
Modern Grenade stats: DAMAGE: 1-12; RANGE hurl; -10% per 1”

Background:

ESCAPED FROM THE RADIUM MINES OF THE NETHERWORLD! Inside, where no one can see, Thorax sheds a tear for his parents. Alas, Mandible and Ovipositor were too afraid of the Great Sky Light to join him in his desperate break for freedom. But they taught their son well: always tell the truth, obey the insectile overlords, call all men brothers despite whatever hideous mutations the glowing ore has blessed them with. Someday, Thorax will re-enter the cracks in the mountains near God City from which he crawled into the light, and he will set his people free.

TAUGHT BY THE GREATEST OF PSI-KNIGHTS! Thorax always knew he wanted more than the waxy but filling scrapings from an overlord's dermal gland. But he had no idea what more there was to want until Razbap, Mind-Master of the Dual Blades, crashed down from the surface world through the roof of a mine tailing chamber. The fall sorely injured the mighty knight, who ordered the amazed Thorax to keep his distance lest he be consumed by the psionic transference of pain. The young slave took every opportunity to return to the chamber and learn from the crippled master. He eagerly absorbed the lore of the surface world, the potent tricks of the psi-knights, and most eagerly of all the seven highly effective routes to stimulate female desire. He learned, too, to weave his cranial feelers into his dreadlocks and pass for normal. Eventually the day came when Razbap had nothing more to teach his student, and bid him climb towards the light. Thorax refused to go without the wounded psi-knight--only to discover that all this time, nothing truly remained of Razbap but a pile of his clothing and gear. Thorax had been instructed… from beyond the grave!

BROKE AND DESPERATE! Thorax has no gold credits to his name. Shortly after emerging, blinking, into the world under the sky he was accosted by a group of ruffians who insisted that he repay them a large sum of said credits. This case of mistaken identity, brought about by Thorax's having donned Razbap's characteristic gear, thoroughly confused the ruffians (especially as they noted that the clothes were obviously the wrong size for the hulking human). Thorax was similarly confused by the persistence of these aggressors in not yielding to his mental dominance. Eventually the situation degenerated into violence, to the great relief of all involved. Thrashing the thugs reassured Thorax a great deal, but the truth is that he hasn't eaten for days and is beginning to realize how thoroughly he is out of his element.

The Brawl: Thugs to the Left of Us, Bruisers to the Right...

...Here We are, Stuck in the Middle Again

Buck and Zarko don't have much time to gloat over the fallen giant, and Creature's thirst goes unquenched. Their crew of fighters is hemmed in on all sides by some of the meanest looking hombres left in the arena. Bob the Fighter, Leeplo the Man-Frog and Schleppy the Tote-Golem have fallen, along with most of the new recruits who joined you overnight.

Buck, Zarko, Creature and Hobson stand back to back in a shrinking ring of fighters. Suddenly there's a break in the gauntlet! Brawlers are flung aside as a new challenger barrels through the line. He's either a stretched dwarf or a squashed ogre, a ginger-bearded brute wearing a sateen jacket and and a cocky sneer. Gold chains and a silver trumpet hang from his neck.

"Ok you, bridesmaids, the rehearsal's over. Let's see how you do against a real man." Jabbing his thumb into his chest, he continues, "Me!

Aarn, Son of Aarn.

I don't mean to toot my own horn...but toot, toot." He raises the trumpet to his mouth and gives forth a piercing blast, then lets it fall to his bear-like chest. Grinning wickedly he drags his thumb slowly across his neck.

-------------------
Aarn, Son of Aarn from a suggestion by the inestimable Jeff Rients

The multiplex moons of Vanth crowd overhead...

Notes on a few of the moons, planetoids, space islands and shipwrecks orbiting Vanth.

Altostratus Aeries of the Hawk-Men: Battleflights of the Blessed. 'Nuff Said.

The Ark of the Sun: The Myth-Sonic Space Ark of the demigod Sun Ra, trapped in a null-sound field by his ancient enemy the Overseer. Audio technicians conjecture that the proper quadraphonic array might be used to free the Ark.

Citadel Carcosa: A floating citadel built from black and green stone mined in unknown quarries, inhabited by mad scientists, demonologists, cryo-lich warlocks and vorvons. Their society, such as it is, centers on the pursuit of obscure ingredients needed for their weird rites, eldritch wizardries and controversial child-rearing practices. Also, they are cannibals (with apologies to Geoffrey McKenna).

The Midas Fleet and the Second Golden Planet: A legendary planetoid made entirely of gold, orbited by the remains of the Midas Fleet who sought to exploit it. A vast, unguarded treasure floating in space, but sages warn that none may touch planet or ships without also turning to gold. (swiped from Ryan North's Dinosaur Comics, particularly the alt-text.)

UltiMax Thool:
One of the galaxy's most notorious prisons, carved from the sentient skull of a Greater Void Dragon, your basic hive of scum, villainy, weed-men, boar-tuskers and brain bankers. Towed into Vanth orbit by slime pirates, who have long since abandoned their Petri Saucers but are said still to rove the high atmosphere (vide Scott Driver's Thool & Wilderlands).

Days of the Week, Vanth

Moonday
Dudesday
Wookday
Thrazday
Freeday
SARFFday
Soonday
Eighthday

SARFFday is shortened from "it'S All Right For Fighting Day." Moonday is the start of the week and each new month. Debate rages in scholarly arenas over which moon is honored by Moonday, since at last count Vanth had 76 moons and planetoids in orbit, to say nothing of the asteroids, half-built destruct-orbs, cloud cities and floating citadels that crowd the night sky. Thus the isolation of Vanth since the failure of the galactic nav-beam: without assistance only the most agile of pilots dare try to navigate through the maze. Most who have risked it have wrecked, the drifting hulks of their ships becoming part of the orbital debris.

What the How?

Seems a little slow ramping things up here at our new demesnes. Hopefully you've all got the blog in subscribed in your feeds? In addition, make sure to subscribe to the comments of the current play thread with the link next to comments box at the bottom of the page. My plan is to use the comments section for ongoing play, occasionally making a new blog post when it seems appropriate.

If you have any questions or suggestions, leave a comment. Otherwise I hope each of you can check in on the Against the Giant thread before the weekend. It'd be cool to get a little bit of gameplay in before the holidays.

Come all ye roving gamblers!

Hey dudes, welcome back to the game!

This is just a quick OOC post to mention some plans for the blog:

• copying, pasting and editing previous gameplay and posting here
  
• adding posts for character creation, houserules, and game procedures
• posting the odd bit of setting detail that comes to mind

If there's anything you'd like to see let me know.

The Brawl: Against the Giant

PLAY-BY-PLAY ANNOUNCER: ...Everything's golden with Newton's Own Philosopher Stone!

COLOR COMMENTATOR: It sure in't golden for The Creature and his boys though Bob. They're gettin' clobbered out there!

PLAY-BY-PLAY ANNOUNCER: They certainly are, Clubber. He's had a strong showing for a first-time fighter, but it looks like the Frankenstein from the North is on his last legs. He may have met his match in Mini-Magog.

COLOR COMMENTATOR: I'll tell ya, with giants the short ones are the meanest.

PLAY-BY-PLAY ANNOUNCER: And Creature can't count on backup from his crew either. They are surrounded. It looks like the other top contenders are making a coordinated move while they're busy with the giant and the Elf Mauler Scholars. It's unusual to see such a large crew, isn't it Clubber?

COLOR COMMENTATOR: Yeah, but the thing is they ain't done much. That Creech and his main boys have done almost alla the fightin'! I don't care how tough you are, ya gotta de-luh-gate a little.

PLAY-BY-PLAY ANNOUNCER: Well the whole crew is in the thick of it now, Clubber--

COLOR COMMENTATOR: It's beat 'em down or be ground meat, Bob.

PLAY-BY-PLAY ANNOUNCER: --and they're getting beat down all right. Looks like Keyyalaypkleeplo--

COLOR COMMENTATOR: Say that three times in a hurry.

PLAY-BY-PLAY ANNOUNCER: --It's Leeplo for short, and he's down, along with the homonculus Schleppy the Tote-Golem and Croakwattle Dan the Lizard Man. Here's a fighter we we haven't seen before! Now where did he come from?

------------------------------------

*iPachuco!*

Suddenly and without preamble, a slick dude with a zoot suit and a suspiciously tall hat pops out of thin air! It's this guy!

"You fellows," he says in a familiar voice, "will not believe the day I've had." As his friends stare at him dumbstruck, he says...

"It's me! QUAZARN!"

"NEVER," he adds, "trust a doxy in a pants suit," and without a word more he charges Mini-Magog and bops him in his middle nose. The giant grunts softly, then smiles. Grabbing a hand full of collar and a pant leg the giant picks up his new attacker, spins twice, and tosses him over Creature's head. How high would a fly guy fly if a fly guy could fly high? The question's moot: zoot suit lands on his snoot.

The giant continues spinning into a whirling dervish punch, trying to take out The Creature as well but he loses his balance, sprawling in a heap in front of his Frankenstein foe...

[...it's your move Wulf.]

Meanwhile Buck faces down Professor Pain, the elf struggling to his feet after catching the sharp end of a elbow in the neck. Before the Prof can stand Buck taps him gently with his club and he crumples like a bad report card. Buck spins around. "Any other stupid elf dipshit in target range?" he thinks. The orangutan Philimon's just gut-punched one of the others, but the Head Masher's just knocked out Bob the Fighter!

Zarko, as is his wont, lurks near Creature. If the sudden appearance of Quazarn was startling, he's downright baffled when he notices Hobson Twofoot standing next to him. Zarko's head hurt like hell, and the laws of space and time seemed to have called in sick. Just another day in Vanth.