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BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
Commended by BerkaZerka on 7/3/2021 11:09:02 AM

Whoops, sorry it took me too long to get this up officially, but it should all be good now that I'm ready to pay attention.

In case anybody needed a (strictly optional) backstory, I suppose that you're all blacksmiths in Skalreach, the City of a Thousand Guilds. Competition for craftsmen is stiff, and you've all been fighting for the title of "best blacksmith" for years. However, Skalreach isn't the only city out there- In fact, the King of this land is willing to hand over lordship and the requisite lands to the best blacksmith there is... If only somebody could hurry up and decide who.

You've decided to hold a competition between yourselves to see who the greatest Blacksmith is, and the winner will become the lord or lady of a prosperous trade city on the silver coast... But the king's pretty old, so his offer might not stand forever, if you know what I mean. So you each have only a little over 24 hours to invent and sell items to each of the customers that arrive. Good luck.

@mizal can start us off with the customer-related post.

And the tags to let the rest of you guys know where the thread is
@BerkaZerka @WizzyCat @hetero_malk @Gryphon

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
Right right I totally didn't manage to forget I was supposed to be the customer already.

Ahem.

A wealthy sultan is lounging on silk pillows near the king and being fed candied rose petals by veiled maidens. He takes a puff from his pipe, a heady floral scent drifting out, and adjusts his comically oversized turban before sitting up and addressing the crowd.

"Greetings, smiths. I rule the city of Suis'Ide Vestiban, beside the Stereotypia River...the eastern side naturally, where it is the most exotic and decadent. I come to you today with your first task, which if successfully completed will be of great help in resolving a dilemma back home. You see, I had a fellow show up to court my only daughter, and while he seems quite wealthy, arriving with sixty elephants, llamas galore, with his bears and lions, a brass band and more. With forty fakirs, his cooks and bakers, and birds that warble on key...along with a wondrous flying carpet and a small monkey, what he didn't have was any sort of proof whatsoever that he was a prince. And this is where you smiths come in! What I need is an item that can decisively show one way or another whether this man is royalty, or just a very well connected charlatan."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
Are we supposed to be doing character perspective writing exercises for our blacksmiths, or are the rest of you just doing the group forum activity as yourselves?

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
Characters

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
A grumpy old penguin farmer stepped forward with a shovel. The crowd speculated curiously as to how a shovel was going to help the sultan.

"What, this?" The penguin asked, planting the head of the shovel into the ground and leaning against the handle; "Nah, this is old 'Betsy' -- never leave home without her."

The penguin then pulled a strange bone bassoon out from under his straw hat.

"While I naturally smith mostly horeshoes, sporks, and the occasional shovel, the Sultan's problem has called for something a little more drastic. What I have here is the: Fake | Goblinbone | Bassoon | From the Blackest Wilds of Wisconsin!"

"Fake?!?" Murmered the crowd amongst themselves.

"Wisconsin?!?" one lone voice questioned.

"Oh no, it is quite real Goblinbone", the old penguin explained; "the 'fake' part is what it detects! One toot on this here bassoon and you'll instantly know if your boy is a fake or not! Huzzah!"

"Plus if it turns out he's a fake, you can also use the bassoon on him as a cudgel!" ^v^

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago

"Yyap, I'll confirm that!" said a strangely-accented voice, "Back home, we use things like that to tell whether or not our cheese curds are counterfeits from Illinois. Cursed be their name!"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago

A tall humanoid figure pushes out through the crowd. Plates of gleaming steel cover their entire body, leaving no vulnerability, from sabatons, to codpiece, to plumed helm. The only part of their body not covered by armor is a slit on the face, which allows them to see while keeping their eyes shrouded in shadow.

"Uh... hi," he says, with a voice that echoes across the room. "So, I, uh, I brought the thing."

A couple of the spectators look away from the man, as their minds try to place the faltering, rather high-pitched voice within the massive armored suit, and fail.

The smith doesn't notice this, and takes out a fine silk cloth. Laying it on the floor, he allows the sultan's servants to unwrap the weapon contained within.

A |Crank-operated| |Coral| |Hack Saw| |Of Thirst Quenching| is revealed. The handle of the hack saw has a large crank protruding, an assembly similar to a fishing rod's, and the other end contains a faucet. The entire thing, including the blade, is made of a beautiful cyan coral.

When he sees his craftsmanship, the blacksmith gains some confidence and begins speaking firmly, "The way I see it, royalty must have two qualities: strength, and the ability to hold down their liqour! With this device, you can test this man's capabilities in both. The crank powers the enchanted faucet, which gives out a fine honeyed mead. A real prince should be able to drink continuously for a few minutes. Next, he should be able to kill a tiger, or lion, or whatever beasts populate this desert region, using just this. If he fails, then he's dead and you have nothing to worry about. He succeeds, and his lineage is certainly of noble blood!

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
Should have included a flywheel, real missed opportunity there, tsk tsk.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago

That's what I get for hurrying and writing before work.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
As the sultan and entourage applaud the previous gift, a griffin barrels out of the crowd without bothering to wait his turn. "I applaud the skill of the previous contestants, but sadly, your labors have been wasted! I hold here, the only true method of determining whether or not a man is of royal decent!" The griffin proudly holds up an |AMERICAN| |Starmetal| |Whuppin' stick| |Infused with the ashes of an ancient king|.

"How could you possibly have made that if you're a griffin?" someone yells from the crowd.

"I come from a long line of blacksmiths," explains the griffin.

"But you haven't got any hands!"

The griffin turned back to address the sultan. "The way to detect the heritage of your suitor is simple. Announce to him that to marry your daughter, he must use this high-quality AMERICAN starmetal whuppin' stick to fish in the sacred river. I'm sure your city has a sacred river, right? Anyways, as you observe the suitor set about his work, it will become immediately clear whether or not this is a true prince."

The sultan was not impressed. "But EVERYONE knows how to fish."

"Exactly! That's the genius of this masterpiece! Everyone knows how to fish, EXCEPT a prince! While a charlatan or imposter would surely have learned at some point in his life how to sustain himself on a river, a prince would never have need of fishing for his own food–it would be brought to him by his family's servants. A true prince will have no idea how to handle the device! If your suitor uses the whuppin' stick with ease, you can be certain he is only an imposter trying to con his way into your noble family." The griffin paused. "And, uh, it's infused with the ashes of an ancient king. I'm sure that counts for something."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
Hmm... yes, but won't the ashes give a false reading? I mean, how do we know it's telling us the prince is royalty and not just getting cross-contanimation from the ancient king fellow?

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
Another blacksmith enters the forum, which is already growing crowded with blacksmiths. He is part man and part rodent, wears the head-wrap of a man well familiar with the sexy ways of the Orient.

"Behold!" spake Pasha Malk. "I come bearing the...
| Blue-painted | Teracotta | Bagpipes | -staff |

If it were not authentic, his accent would be incredibly racist. He casts the aforementioned object, lovingly wrapped in virignal cloth, before the assembled janissaries and noblemen. "I come bearing a gift for only the most mighty warriors. As you can see, it is painted blue; this being the Distant Past, blue paint is extremely expensive and rare; a sultanly gift, if ever there were one.

It is made from the finest teracotta. A lot of people don't know this, but truly fine Teracotta only can be harvested from Teraccotta Soldiers, who hail from the Even More Exotic and Easterly Land. Let me tell you, killing a Chin-Key warrior and harvesting his clay hide was no easy feat.

Gentlemen, I would also direct your eyes to the Bagpipes. I had to travel to distant Scotlandia, and wrestle with a tribe most alcoholic and loud in order to part their most violent instrument from them. One peel of its pipes is sure to put fear into the heart of any Bree-Teesh warrior, or even a cowardly Mediterranean type.

Finally, it is mounted on a staff. This is self explanatory. You can hit people with a staff. Enemy soldiers, sure, but also your own slaves. And the sultan has many wives, who, obviously, must be discplined as well.

Surely, only a prince could wield a tool as expensive and impractical as this."

He executes a bow as flawless as it is insane.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
It is a bagpipe on a stick. Infernal noisesome things. Nothing like the smooth dulcet tones of a bassoon.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
A tall, thin, and suspiciously dark complected man with a most evil little beard steps up frequently to whisper to the sultan with a conniving expression as the blacksmiths come forward one by one. The parrot perched on his shoulder looks like it would have an obnoxiously loud and annoying voice if anyone could be bothered to write dialogue for it, but it is thankfully quiet as the sultan shoos his attendants aside and (with difficulty) stands to address those assembled. "After consulting with my loyal and trustworthy Grand Vizier on this matter, I've made my decision." He gestures at the armored individual with the high pitched voice and oddly small torso, the lone human-ish figure in the crowd of shameless goddamn furries. "That crank-operated coral hack saw of thirst quenching will do nicely! I'll admit all that crank operation seems like a bit too much work, but, that's what slaves are for. We'll need their strong arms to get a true prince drunk enough to go out and fight a tiger. And, should he fail, heh, well that will save me the trouble of beheading him! Oh, and I'll take two--one can never have too many enchanted booze dispensers." "As for that bassoon, it was never explained HOW it would detect the fake prince, and I find a bird so FAKE it cannot even fly untrustworthy to begin with." "The stick of whupass...it's a stick. I doubt there's anything special about these Americans it came from that would explain them somehow being especially good at whupping the ass of royalty. So you made up this story about fishing about something that is not even used for fishing to try and sell me your overpriced product. HOW DARE YOU! Guards! Off with their--aw damn, forgot I wasn't at home." The sultan sighs, muttering to the vizier, "For that matter we could just get an actual functional fishing pole at a fraction of the cost, and use the kingdom's starmetal supply for more advanced tiger traps..." "And finally, these ludicrously priced terracotta bagpipes. I...I'll take two of those as well. They won't solve my problem and don't have any use at all, but they're grossly rare and expensive there's something strangely alluring about that." Wizzy is the winner of Round 1

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
Oops, I forgot to mention whipping stick is a synonym for fishing rod, lol

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago

SCOREBOARD:

Wizzy: 1

Everyone: 0

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago

Alright, everyone's had their fun, I think we can wrap this up now!

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
No! Pasha Malk takes a challenge to his honour with yatagan drawn and pet tiger snarling. Warrior-eunuchs, to me! (To assist me in the next round of blacksmithy)

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
CUSTOMER

As the sultan and his advisor left, a gang of blood thirsty pirates forced their way to the front. Once through, they parted to allow their captain passage.

The captain swaggered in, twirling the rings if his black beard with a finger.

"It's hard work being a pirate," he explained; " always fighting, boozing, getting sunburn and scurvy. Not to mention all the sea monsters -- and occasional flying orphan."

"Aye, we hate them damn flying orphans," the first mate agreed to the cheers of the men.

"So," the captain continued, "I need something to up my pirating game. Don't know what it is exactly, but then you Smith's haven't made it yet."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
"I'll sit this one out," the old penguin farmer mumbled; "just the thought of saltwater makes me seasick!"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago

Does the pirate have a parrot?

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
All pirates have parrots.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
Yes, all of the pirates have parrots (and it gets very noisy when they abruptly break out in round of "The Sound of Music").

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
"I have the perfect solution to your problem!" said the griffin. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but you fellows don't strike me as the most subtle group."

"Aye, perhaps not," acknowledged the pirate.

"Being a pirate is hard work when you always swing onto your enemy's ship guns blazing, and cutlasses... er, cutlass-ing. What you need, is a fresh approach to relieving seafarers of their loot. And I have just the tool for you!" Out of thin air, the griffin whipped out a |Thief's| |Plant-fiber| |Lute| |Of the east|.

"In choosing this very reasonably priced thief's lute, you'll find your pirating going much more smoothly. Instead of slaving away in bloody pillage after bloody pillage, all you need to do is sneak up quietly on your enemy's ships at night, strumming a relaxing tune on this lute. It will lull your enemies into a false sense of security, and then you strike! The resonance of the plant fibers will make the lute's sleep-inducing effects even more effective."

"What's more, after a hard day's work terrorizing the seas, your crew will want to sit back and relax. I recommend playing this lute to the crew during celebrations. It will raise moral like you've never seen!"

The Griffen gestured to the assortment of various parrots populating the pirate's shoulders. "I recommend teaching your parrots to sing in harmony with the lute. And, if the 'sneak up on the enemy with the lute' approach doesn't work out for you, you can always bonk flying orphans with it. Just a thought."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago

The tall, heavily armored blacksmith emerges from his smithy, with what looks like a freshly extracted femur in his hand. Upon closer inspection, it's actually a cane, but not just any cane, as it's a |Bloody| |Ivory| |Shillelagh| |Of Doom| !

The blacksmith swings it around menacingly a few times, and then begins, "It is hard work being a pirate, but you know how you can get extra profits without any extra work? No? Well, it's this thing!"

"You didn't wait for an an—" an onlooker remarks, and is cut off.

"So, what does it do, you might ask?"

Another onlooker begins, "What does i—"

"Glad you asked!" The smith continues to cut people off. "You do fighting, boozing, burning, and scurvying, but you're missing the critical aspect of intimidation! With this item, you add that critical aspect of piracy to your arsenal. Let's say you come across a trade ship. You pull this thing out, and they'll piss themselves at the sight of a bloodied blone! No one is willing to risk dismemberment and death for some cargo. You get the cargo, and now rival pirates are on your tail. They arrive and they board the ship and try to steal from you. That's where you activate the DOOM POWERS. It's important to note that it's doom to only one person, once per day, but it's via disintegration. So you disintegrate an enemy pirate, and no one else wants to fight you, so you ward off the pirates, and maybe gain crew members. Also, flying orphans can't dodge this. Perfect. At that point, you can live your life happily plundering all the seas, and the oceans. This is where you get old, and this item makes the perfect cane so you can finish out your days with an eyepatch, frizzled hair, and a cane, like all great pirates do. Oh, and you can beat the snot out of anyone. I mean, look at the clubbing potential. From baby seals to flying orphans, this has got you covered."

He inhales for the first time since the beginning of his monologue, and twirls the shillelagh.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
"Hurry up, you slothful spudropoke! We've already missed the first round and we're about to miss the second! Don't make us have come all this way for nothing!" In a lull, two lizard creatures who had been scrambling to set up a tent in a clearing a short ways beyond the crowd could be heard arguing as they filled it with all manner of bewildering gear and contraptions. The litany of abuse erupted from the smaller of the two, Friedbold, who seemed to have taken up the "supervisory" position when it came to heavy lifting or anything that might damage his fabulously poofed sleeves or the sweeping plume in his cap. From his other, far less agitated companion came a series of slow, unperturbed clicks and hisses, broken by a sudden burst of chittering laughter that left his companion aghast. "Fine, be that way, you...you...chogwizzling nincompoop! You dunderheaded boob! I don't care what you do as long as you craft this brilliant, winning idea according to my genius specifications!" The little kobold hastily set up a canvas and began sketching a blueprint. The two continued to bicker in a more muted manner, the red glow of a forge cast from the tent as the other blacksmiths approached to present their own creations, finally taking some small item out of the tent and racing forward to introduce themselves to the king, dashing in front of the slow, ponderous Pasha Malk who was busy chewing on tree bark or something. "Friedbold here, your Majesty! GENIUS designer of wondrous and awe-inspiring artifacts, at your service!" "And my brother Sausbold, a blacksmith of some middling to moderate talent!" Momentarily doffing his hat, he gave a sweeping bow. Then turning to address the pirates, he held out a small teakwood box, opening it with a flourish to reveal the glass bauble resting inside. "Together, we present: the |Thief's| |Beautiful| |Marble| |Of Oil|, |Engraved with a profane image of Your Mother|." "Naturally any pirate worth his salty dogness will be missing an eye, and this is the perfect fit for a ravishing replacement. Furthermore, it's built with the height of kobold scientific knowledge and lightly seasoned with the arcane arts to help you in battle. When you're boarding an enemy ship, you need only flip up you eyepatch, and your opponent will have their eyes instantly drawn to its alluring beauty. In this instant, their unwilling admiration will be transformed to horror, as they see in its enchanting depths THEIR OWN beloved mother in a compromising position! Whoever the beholder is, it is always their mother they see. A distraction that will give you ample opportunity to spill their guts onto the deck with your cutlass. And as it only works for those who are immoral thieves at heart, you'll never have to worry about it falling into the hands of honest sailors or some kind of swashbuckling heroes who may use it against you. Incredible, and absolutely perfect, is it not?" The taller kobold leaned over and scratchily whispered something to him in the kobold language. "Ah yes, Sausbold reminds me! The 'oil' enchantment is very subtle, just gives the marble a nice, perpetually polished sheen and silkiness, meaning it can be slipped in an out of your eye socket very comfortably. And for a small added fee, we can add a fragrance of either basil lime or lavendar patchouli, meaning your wondrous new eyeball can also double as a roll on deodorant or cologne, should you ever need to infiltrate..." he sniffs, "Ah, slightly less odiferous company."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago

This was the Kobold Crossover I never knew we needed

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
Pasha Malk, reappears on the scene, having been momentarily distracted by an ongoing effort to court the last elligible female in the city who has not had her mind touched by Iblis.

"My friends," he says amicably. "What is the natural enemy of the pirate?"

He clears his throat and his attendant warrior-eunuchs begin to murmur amongst themselves. "The king's navy? One of them asks."

"Scurvy?"

"The Wench Empowerment Movement?"

"No," Pasha Malk says, spreading his hands amicably. "The GOBLIN!"

At an invisible cue, one of the warrior-eunuchs removes the purple velvet trim from Pasha Malk's latest creation. It is the TALKING | BRASS | BEAR TRAP | OF GOBLINBANE

"My friends, as we all know, pirates love to bury their treasure. When they bury their treasure in the sand, anyone who happens upon them can steal the treasure. This is why they bury them deep. Goblins, however, seem to have a knack for seeking out and robbing all sorts of treasure. Possibly due to their big noses. This is where my invention comes in. Beartrap, speak!"

"Ah jeeba jooba jeebi, wacka jo jo joja bee!" says the beartrap.

"Of course, as an anti-goblin countermeasure, it only speaks Goblinoid. But I can assure you, dear spectator, that he is speaking the most heinous racial slurs available in the goblin dictionary. In my seedy metropolitan travels, I have picked up a few words of Goblinoid, and I find it difficult to remain for long in the trap's presence. Since it is a beartrap made of the most hardy brass, one simply has to set it on whatever remote desert island they choose to leave their treasure, and it will repel the greenskinned hordes."

"Jimba jamba jooby! Waka waka joobs!" the beartrap says hatefully, as the judges begin to deliberate...

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago

Thump! Thump! Thump! The door to the room shakes with the knocking, prompting some guards nearby to open it. After some squabbling about invitations, a short bespectacled man walks in, donning a pointed green cap and a mechanical arm.

"Hello friends, I apologize for my lateness. I had a failing worble-wheel in desperate need of oils. I'm sure you understand."

Everyone stares. A few blink.

"But!" he suddenly shouts, "I have finished my latest contraption. Behold!"

He drops a heavy wooden box on the floor with a heave, and pushes a button. Clicking sounds emanate from somewhere within as it vibrates. A spring in the bottom suddenly releases, flinging the box into the air, right next to one of the pirates. Lever arms shoot out of holes, clinching both sides of his drink, retracting it swiftly out of his grasp.

"What in the 'ell!" He shouts angrily. The box produces a small gout of steam and leaps back as the short man laughs mirthly.

"My friends, he says with a grin, this is a GNOMISH | SELF-REPAIRING | RUM FINDER | WITH MANY BUTTONS!" He presses a few of them, making the box return its captured drink. (At this point, the pirate mutters obscenities unfit for the children.)

"What more could a pirate need than an automatic rum finder! Leave it in port, or let it board a ship, and it will fetch and fill itself full with all the rum you need! It even has an attack mode where it launches itself at people! Observe!" One of the guards squints at him menacingly.

"...Or don't! But it does that too!" He gives a grandiose wave. "I spent a lot of time to make sure it was easy to use even for non-gnomes, so all the instructions fit on one page of papyrus!" He holds up a small sheet with surprisingly legible handwriting, clearly hired for the occasion.

"Oh, my name's Cabagarth. Dearly sorry, I almost forgot," he adds.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
Offended shrieking erupted from the kobold camp. Friedholm pointed an accusing finger at the new arrival, trembling in fury, while Sausbold glowered in silent disapproval. "A gnome?! Who let gnomes in here? Guards, guards! That gnome is FAKE BLACKSMITH!"

So beside himself with outrage was the little kobold that he didn't even notice the armored figure being chosen as the winner again, or the pirates departing. When the realization finally came, he pulled his hat down over his face and retreated back into the tent with slumped shoulders and a despairing groan, Sausbold trailing behind.

Those standing nearby could still hear his muffled complaints. "Fair contest my cloaca, this thing is RIGGED."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago
As the cacacophony of parrots finished up a rousing rendition of Annie's "The sun will come out tomorrow," the pirate captain considered each item.

"Well now," he said, continuing to twirl the curls of his beard; "this final one won't do. The last thing we need is all these parrots learning new cuss words."

"Jimba jamba jooby! Jimba jamba jooby!" The parrots began squawking in delight.

The pirate captain sighed, then went on. "The shiny eyeball thing is neat..."

"The lute -- just too dainty. Not like we're the Pirates of Penzance or anything."

"But the doom thing..."

"Doom! Doom! Doom! Doom!" The pirates all started chanting in anticipation of thier Captain's choice.

"I mean it literally has 'DOOM' in the name -- and in all caps no less! How can any selfrespecting pirate resist?!?"

"We'll take it!"

Another pirate then whispered something in the Captain's ear.

"What? A late entry?" The Captain replied, looking back at the gnomish contraption just brought in.

"Uh, yeah, we'll just stick with the DOOM, thanks," he said, waving as he left.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

5 months ago

SCOREBOARD:

Wizzy: 2
Everyone: 0

I'm beginning to notice balancing issues in my game

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Hey everyone! Unfortunately, I'm going to have to drop out of this game, as I will be leaving for summer camp tomorrow. I hope you all enjoy the rest of the game!

If you were looking for feedback on your game, I think it's great! The variety of categories and prompts allow for a lot of flexibility in how each round plays out, and overall, this game is just a lot of fun.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
While the Fourth of July weekend will slow my posting down a bit, I'm still good for going on a few more rounds, as everyone should get a chance to be a judge.

Also, this really works great as a writing prompt type forum game! Brilliant idea Sent ^v^

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Shhhh, don't call it a forum game.

Malk will have the customer post up soon. He's been delayed a lot because he got a new girlfriend and has been having a bunch of sex and all that, lol what a loser.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Have fun at camp! There will be more of these threads.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Thanks, have a great week!

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Friedbold cackles, "Yes, yes, fly away griffin! And take that cheating gnome with you, drop him onto the rocks and feed him to your young!"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"What ho, blacksmiths!'" a booming voice resounds across the forum. "It is I, Paladin Venuste, and I have urgent need of your services."

A knight in offensively shining armour rides in. His horse is whiter than snow, and both man and beast seem to project an air of insufferable nobility. In your career as blacksmiths, you have doubtlessly encountered lots of Lawful Good types; they usually last a few days into their quest, and there's always a quest.

"I ride forth tomorrow to track down the vile wizard NecroMaster. He has committed crimes against both the living and the dead, and worst of all, he compromised the honour of my own dear mother. I need a righteous tool for the dispensation of JUSTICE, in order to bring this fiend to... well, to justice."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

Cabagarth begins to get a little twitchy and paranoid. First the kobolds catch on, then of course a paladin shows up. Obviously the intel was wrong, and the obscure, highly top-secret mission compromised.

"Oh dear, I just remembered I left the steam pot on," he excuses himself.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Get back here and smith something you sinker of a tinker!!!

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
The kobold brothers leapt into frantic action, hammering and the buzzing of drills and saws coming from the tent while Friedbold made last minute adjustments to a quite intricate looking blueprint. Occasional snatches of conversation could be heard in a mix of Common and Kobold. "Right, now just fetch me the bottle of...shit! Is a paladin. Ah, fetch me a permanent marker too..." Exiting the tent, a wheeled cabinet with some kind of screen device perched upon it--very clunky and old fashioned...or was it futuristic, given the increasingly vaguely defined setting?--was rolled out between them. Friedbold opened it to the oohs and ahhs of the crowd and announced, "May we present! Endmaster's Sterling Silver Commodore 64 Of Silence, Quenched in the blood of Unicorns!" Clearing his throat, he quickly explained its functionality. "On the outside, it's an exact duplicate of the Commodore 64 owned by Endmaster, the King of All Necromancers. It will be presented to the NecroMaster as a gift from his lord." The little kobold reached over and flipped the device on, and the screen lit up. "Nothing suspicious there, and perfect functionality, as can be easily demonstrated when you deliver it. But, open it up, and..." Here Sausbold moved in with a screwdriver, removing a panel and displaying the inside of the device. Long, wicked silver needles lined the interior like teeth, around a receptacle filled with a red liquid that faintly glittered as with flecks of starlight. "You see, this device is powered by the natural magic found in unicorn blood. Ah...organic unicorn blood, ethically and humanely sourced...from volunteer unicorns." He held up an empty bottle, nervously clearing his throat and showing off what appeared to be several hand written additions to the original label. "If an EVIL being turns it on, after a few minutes pass the SILENCE enchantment will activate, cutting off the sound of whatever game is being played. Fearing he will have greatly offended the King of All Necromancers by breaking his gift, the NecroMaster will attempt to open the panel and examine the insides. At this point, being opened by an EVIL creature, the rest of the enchantment will trigger, and the blessed silver needles you see will EXPLODE outward in all directions!" Friedbold flung his little arms out dramatically while making explosion sounds with his mouth. "...driving themselves into his skull and perforating the bodies of any nearby minions or other bystanders. Even doing increased damage to the EVIL ones since the needles will also be dipped in sacred unicorn blood!"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Damn that's brutal!

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

The heavily armored blacksmith blanches at the sight of the weapons on display. He mutters something under his breath and goes into a back room. He toils for hours, attempting to create something that's at least passable.

"A-ha! Aha? Aha." are the only words he utters, and those only near the end of his struggle.

He emerges, upper body covered with soot, seemingly sweating through his armor.

He coughs violently, "I've done it! The best tool for a paladin to hand out justice left, right, and center with. The |Wavy-bladed| |Copper| |Knuckleduster| |Forged in the Ugandan Shaolin Temple| , in the flesh—or would it be in the metal? In the metal. Not the flesh. Definitely in the metal. Right, moving on."

The smith holds out his handiwork. It appears to be a completely normal copper knuckle, but upon closer inspection, it actually has a blade running along the edge.

He coughs again, only this time to clear his throat, "So, we've all heard of paladin brutality. Some criminal gets slapped around by a paladin until he's barely more than a pile of pulp, or in that one case where he was literally reduced to pulp. This weapon will allow you to avoid that, and allow you to dispense just enough of that sweet justice. Too much justice and it's no longer just, right? In addition, it was forged in a temple, and not just any temple, but the Ugandan Shaolin Temple! You know about it? I don't think so. That's because those paladins are so humble that they take no credit for their work, allowing other paladins to use it for the dispensing of justice."

"But, good smithing man, weren't you just forging this item? How am I to believe that it's from this temple if you forged it just now?" the paladin speaks up.

"That's because I wasn't forging it, I was simply cleaning it! After all, I must bring it to a level of nobility and a standard that you will be accustomed to," the blacksmith holds the knuckleduster up to a fire, and it gleams just as offensively as the knight's gear. "Since you are a paladin, you no doubt are well-versed in swords, and may view copper knuckles derisively, but that's why this one has a blade! Oh, and I almost forgot something."

The blacksmith shuffles back into the room where he just was, and emerges again. He sets down a small but absurdly thick pillow, of a royal purple color, with tassels.

His smile is obvious even through the helmet, "Can't have a hero's weapon without a fitting pedestal!"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"Wait, now don't finish before you see what I have here!" a gnomish voice calls from outside the door. The guards let him in without a hitch this time. He dusts off his shirt and pants with one hand, carrying a strange instrument in the other. He seems to have regained his composure since he first saw the paladin show up, though he dares not make eye contact with the kobolds.

"Sorry, I was temporarily indisposed to take care of pots. I created this while I was away." He holds up an instrument and begins to pull at the strings.

"Why...did...the...chicken...cross...the...road," the instrument utters in a pale, magical voice as he plucks it. Everyone nearby looks fairly confused. One of the guards strokes his chin, pontificating deeply upon the question until at least he arrives at a meek "I'm not sure". Cabagarth nods knowingly.

"With this Humming | Ivory-Embossed | Lute | Of Riddling, which you will have your bard play upon entering the necromancer's accursed lands," he pauses to look at the paladin. "Yes, yes, you would carry your own fanfare around," he mutters in thought. "Where was I? Of course...with your bard in possession of this lute, you are sure to confuse and disorient any and all who hear its perplexing questions! While they're distracted by the clever and many-layered tapestry of its queries, you're free to smite the necromancer by any conventional means, such as your favorite heirloom morningstar, or a bottle of trustworthy holy water at a discount price!" He makes a gesture as if to suggest he sells the latter one.

"...And let me tell you, any necromancer worth his weight in dead crows will be listening to you through the ears of his undead minions, or some disturbing psychic spell! Which means he will be lost in thought in very little time!"

"Finally, this instrument also works on the deaf. I have no idea why, but it does, as I've tested it on my cousin! Although he didn't really snap out of it after a few hours. So I'd suggest you keep it away from children and cousins!" he adds cheerfully.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"well now," the old penguin farmer said to the paladin; "explosions are nice, but you can't rely on just one to takedown the big bad.

What you need is something equally big (and badass) that you can just keep using over and over again, until that necromancer finally goes from undead to just plain old dead."

The penguin then took his shovel and started digging in what seemed to be a completely random spot.

"I've been saving this for just such an occasion," he said the the crowd, as he continued shoveling.

After a few moments, something the size of a staff, wrapped in red velvet, was unearthed.

"You... You had that buried right there the whole time?" Someone in the crowd gasped -- "Right here in the town square?!?"

Ignoring the question, the penguin unwrappen the red velvet to reveal a massive two-handed claymore of exceedingly fine workmanship!

"This, my nobal paladin," he explained, "is The Platinum | Claymor | Of Retard Strength | That glows when shaken!"

The penguin struck a mighty pose with the enchanted weapon -- looking amazingly badass for a two foot high penguin weilding a six foot long sword.

"See," the penguin demonstrated with a few sweeping swings of the blade -- "you can do this all day! Multiple uses! And being made of only the finest most expensive and rare platinum, you can see that this is not weapon for a commoner. Only the lordliest of lords and nobles could be worthy of such a thing.

And let us not forget the retard strength. Everyone knows you don't get the retards mad and for good reason -- why, I once saw a knight of the crown cleave a moose in two with but a single swing of this beautiful claymore!

And for that final effect," he concluded, giving the blade a shake, "it radiates a holy aura of saint-blessed light, so everyone can see how virtuous and awesome you are!"

The sword then lit up, glowing with a brilliant radiancethat made the penguin seem nothing less than angelic.

"Act now and I'll throw in a free pair of sunglasses!"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"I think I'm just about ready to make a decision!" the paladin declares in a knightly way. His eyes turn to the kobalds. "Well, this certainly would" make an effective anti-necromancer countermeasure... but something about it disturbs me. And it makes Sir Horse uneasy."

As if on cue, Sir Horse whinnies miserably.

"Easy now, Sir Horse. As for my gnomish friend, who is -- oh wow, that's a lot of sweat -- presenting me with a very fancy lute, I'm afraid I cannot except. That would be a wonderful tool for a bard, but it simply would not do for a man as lordly and knightly as me to sing my own fanfare! Also, bards tend to be low-life actors and musicians, often descended from disgusting gypsy-elf stock and will simply not do."

He turns his eyes to the armoured blacksmith. He nods approvingly at his various clanky plates and visors and other armoured bits. "These certainly are a lovely pair of knuckle-dusters. I can just imagine beating some disgusting half-elf vagrant beggar to an absolute pulp with those, that dirty knife-ear celery eating.... sorry, lost in thought. Unfortunately, I feel as if coming within punching range with the forces of Evil is a plan that will surely backfire, and I'm afraid they look like they wouldn't rest comfortably on my tremendous armoured gauntlets. For that reason, I must pass. I do encourage you to use them against any elves you might see."

His eyes turn to the ridiculously large, sparkling sword wielded by the penguin farmer. "Now THIS is a blade worthy of a paladin most holy and just. With your permission, Lord Bird, I would like to swing this around." He takes the blade and executes a lengthy claymore-kata that results in several market stalls being cleaved wide open. He holds the blade aloft and squints at its absurdly bright sheen. "This is a perfect tool for battling against evil, I'll take those sunglasses now please."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Right away sir! ^v^

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

SCOREBOARD:

Wizzy: 2
Berka: 1
Everyone else: 0

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

As Paladin Venuste rides out of the chamber atop his horse, a teenage girl is revealed to the onlookers.

"Hey guys, so I'm like, about to start my epic adventure," she waves at the group of smiths with both hands. "But, my mom, kind of a be-yotch, suspended my allowance of 5 copper a month. I was saving up for a brand new sword, but all I could afford  was this studded leather. At least it's designer: Armenia. At least, that's what it says on the tag. Manufactured in Armenia. "

Before anyone in the audience can say anything, she continues, "I can't believe this thing was, like, so cheap, even at Silkshield's, that mega fancy Dwarfish place. But, I'm going to be doing like, quests, and stuff, with real monsters, and for that I need a weapon, like duh. But, I'm also not willing to compromise. So, ladies and smithingmen, give me something as good as it is cheap!

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
After this unnamed teenage adventurer with a taste for the finer things had finished explaining the details of her transactional methods, a voice called out from the heavens above... Though, not, like, actual heaven. Just upwards in general. It wasn't a booming voice that instilled piety or holy fear. In fact, it was quite the opposite: the voice of a nerd.

"What ho! Clear a space!"

Up in the sky was neither a bird nor a plane, but a man with wings. Not the feathery kind or the leathery kind, but the kind that were made of metal and attached to some sort of thruster. The crowds below cleared a space as the man landed, kicking up a frankly dramatic amount of dust around himself. The cloud parts as features of this man come into view: The unkempt brown hair and pale skin of a person who spends most of their time in a workshop. The dress shirt underneath a brown leather jacket, a combination that says "Adventurous, yet civilized". Cargo pants and a bandoleer-satchel combo that allows one an absurd amount of storage space.

The cloud fully dissipated, the man pulls up his green-lensed goggles and gives a smile. It's Zander Quinn, the famous inventor from the east! He's known for utilizing magical items, using them in conjuction with the power of science. Impressive for his relatively young age. What's he doing here?

"Greetings, fellow artisans! My name is Zander Quinn, and I've come to throw my metaphorical hat in the ring!" He says, as he presses a button on the thruster behind him, causing the wings to retract inwards. He continues: "You see, after my success with inventing, tinkering, alchemy, and several other crafts, I've decided to give good-old smithing a try! I've brought along with me several prototype items, and what better place for a market demand survey than this?"

Zander opens his satchel, pulling out a small capsule. He tosses it into the air above him, and it explodes in a puff of smoke. Falling out of the smoke, however, is an all-black morningstar, landing in Zander's outstretched hand. Amidst the crowd's assorted "oooo"s and "aaaah"s, he approaches the youth.

"Now, young lady, if I understand correctly, you're seeking an afforable-yet-high-quality item, are you not? Well, look no further! I present to you the |Revolving||Graphite||Morningstar||Of Consumption|!"

Zander brandishes the weapon, giving a couple of practice swings. Even in his wimpy nerd arms, the weapon still gives a fine woosh. He resumes his pitch:

"The morningstar itself is a fine weapon; Simpler to use than it's cousin, the flail, yet deadlier and spiker than it's sister, the mace. Capable of bashing AND thrusting, it's a great weapon for a newly proclaimed adventurer such as yourself. But, if you have arms such as mine, should you be having some trouble landing heavy blows..."

He squeezed a button on the hilt, causing the head of the morningstar to start spinning rapidly with a loud WHHHIIIIIIIIRRRRR, frightening some of the closer folk. Zander simply grins and he releases the button, the spinning coming to a stop immediately.

"If the sound alone doesn't end the fight, the next blow you land surely will. And, of course, the release of the button stops it, should you drop it or otherwise lose your grip. Safety reasons, you see."

Zander gestures to the graphite head with his free hand.

"Now, you might be wondering, 'Graphite? The stuff pencils are made out of? What kind of material is that for a weapon?'. Firstly, pencils are actually made out of a combination of powdered graphite and clay, but that's besides the point. Graphite is pure, crystalized carbon. Not only does that make it extremely sharp, but it also makes it an investment."

He turns to address the crowd.

"And what else is pure carbon?!"

"Coal?"

"... Ah, no. That's primarily Carbon, but also contains sulfur, nitrogen, et cetera... Anyone else?"

"Oil?"

"What? No, that's... hydrocarbon. It's hydrogen and carbon along with other miscellaneous elements, no, anyone? Come now."

"Oh! I've got it! Fullerenes!"

"That's a- Yes, that is pure carbon, but it's a nanocarbon! How'd you even know that?! I'd like a talk with you afterwards, but no! Guys, it's diamond! Diamond is pure, crystalized carbon as well as graphite!"

There's a collective murmuring of "ooooooh"s and "right"s. Zander gives a sigh and turns back to the teenager.

"Should you accept this weapon, go on a couple of quests, rake in the money, and return to me (or another smith that has an industrial pressure chamber), I can turn this morningstar into pure diamond! And for a modest fee, at that!"

He hefts the weapon in his hands a couple of times, preparing the final section of his presentation.

"You're probably thinking about the 'Of Consumption' part now, hm? Well, I won't lie to you: Graphite, while sharp, is a cheap, brittle material. Being crystal does that. But what if I told you that, should you keep slaying your foes, you will never need to repair this weapon? Why, you ask? Well, because it DRINKS THE BLOOD OF YOUR ENEMIES TO ABSORB INTO ITSELF!"

A collective gasp of surprise spreads throughout the crowd.

"That's right! Every living thing has carbon in it, and I've designed this weapon to consume it! Just splatter a bit of blood on there, let the morningstar DRRRINK up the carbon in the blood, and it's as good as new! I've effectively negated the material quality's drawbacks... for the most part at least. It'll still shatter when used against non-fleshy things, but hey, can't change everything. And, ah, try not to cut yourself with it."

Finally, Zander leans in a little.

"And, of course, as you can see... It comes in black. Very sleek. Quite fashionable."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"My friends, as you know, the Turbaned Man is the natural master of the Slav," Pasha Malk spreads his hands grandiloquently, trying to conceal his anger at repeatedly losing to bare-headed infidels. "In my travels in the Turkoid Empire, I encountered many a slavic manservant. None, however, so powerful or hardy as the Russian gopnik, a fearful beast; a vodka-based organism that confounds even the most learned minds of the Capybaliphate. Learned gentlemen and beautiful ladies of the smithing trade, allow me to present....

THE FLAME SPITTING | PYRITE | GOPNIK | COVERED IN HUMAN TEETH!"

A nervous warrior-eunuch leads a hideous mechanical abomination into the forum. It is roughly the size and shape of a human being, but cast entirely from fake gold. Canine teeth protrude from its metal flesh. A Nike tracksuit forms part of its hide. It takes a swig of vodka so potent that it would kill any man who hails from West of the Danube, and belches flame into the air.

"...I crafted him myself, intended for him to be the ideal harem guard, but I now gift him to you, fair lady. Rest assured, every expense was spared in his creation (savings which pass onto you); I crafted him from cheap pyrite instead of fine gold, and instead of mounting spikes on his carapace, I instead used human teeth, extracted for free from the mouths of infidel volunteers.

As for his battle readiness, I can attest to that. The gopnik, when blind drunk, can seemingly ignore injuries and alcohol poisoning that would be fatal to a mortal man. Him being cast entirely from metal will only enhance his hardy qualities."

As Pasha Malk shows off his mechanical monstrosity, Sergei mutters something only half-coherent. "Kill me сука блять"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"Hmm...I've got it!" Cabagarth rushes to a cart full of scrap metal and nameless machinery. Riffling through spare parts, he pulls out a large, heavy-looking fan on the end of a metal stick.

"This fell on me once when I was having a misunderstanding with a mage of the wild arts!" He reveals a Sawn-off | Saltpeter | Industrial Fan | Of Moon Gravity.

"It was difficult to hoist around while I was studying it, so I had it blessed with near-weightlessness by a fancy robed guy who was meditating on a lily pad. Weird, I know, but it's so light!" He demonstrates this by holding the fan -- taller than himself -- with three fingers.

"Normally, such power as this is contained by a guard, but that part has been sawn off and the blades sharpened for lethality. You simply turn it on by touching a button near the thumb." The fan roars into life, and members of the audience gasp at the intimidating whir. He turns it off.

"More yet, you can throw anything from sand to breadcrumbs in front of it and let the powerful breeze blind your enemies! There's a bag attached here you can fill with anything and it will empty in front of the spinning blades when they're going."

"There aren't a lot of these around, but it didn't cost me anything to get this and it's not what I usually sell off, so I don't have a lot of customers, y'know? So I'll part with it for real cheap. Oh, and the spinning power comes from this thing," he says, pointing to a big metal cylinder with + and - written on either side of it.

"Not sure what it is, but it does the trick!"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"Well," the old penguin farmer grumbled, looking at the competition's marvelous works, "I got this..."

He then presented large box, clad in black studded leather and labeled "Two-Fisto".

Inside was a salty. two-handed. fist on a stick. of phlem.

Donning a pair of blue surgical gloves, the penguin carefully lifted the slime dripping weapon out to display it.

"It's a fist on a stick. Good for beating off any opponents that refuse to submit. As you can see, it also self-lubricates -- easily allowing you to insert it into any... *ahem* ...battle. And being two-handed, also makes it great for double fisting action!"

The faces of the crowd were aghast with disgust. A few ladies fainted.

"Oh and it puts salt in the wounds when you use it, for that added domination over whatever you vigorously pound with it."

The penguin then set the implement back in its box, closed the lid, and disposed of the now slippery surgical gloves.

He then turned back to the young wannabe adventurer lass, "You strike me as someone who could administer a good fisting! So how many of these beauties do you want?"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Friedbold suddenly came racing out of an nearby barbershop, his hair in curlers--which was quite the feat, as like most lizards, he didn't even have hair. "Ah shit! Another customer!? I was getting my tail waxed, why didn't you come and warn me, Sausbold! Sausbold?!" But his brother was nowhere to be seen. After some frantic searching, Friedbold stopped and took some deep breaths, laughing nervously. "Haha, just a moment. Just a little technical difficulty, madam. But you order will be right out, yes, yes, no worries..." Half a moment passed while he assessed his surroundings, than he grabbed a box of canvases and the little inkpot he used for his blueprints and disappeared inside the big tent. Ten minutes later he emerged, clearing his throat. "Here it is! The wondrous contraption! Just the weapon you were looking for! Right... it's, um, ahhh...an |Azurite| |Cardboard| |Bardiche|." He handed her an axe cut out of a sheet of cardboard, painted blue. "It's very affordable! And lightweight! But be wary, it can give a wicked papercut, and there's a one in six chance your opponent will be afflicted with ink poisoning with every attack! Isn't that just remarkable? Everything you hoped for and more, yes?" Friedbold fixed the teen girl with something between a smile and a grimace, nodding his head up and down as if encouraging her to do the same.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

The teenager, who had been combing her hair and thinking about what color highlights she should get, looks up.

She coughs and blushes at the sight of what's in the penguin's hands, "What's—what's that? That's kind of sus dude, and a little gross, and slimy. Reminds me of the school bathrooms, and I really don't vibe with that. Anyways, how can I even hold on to that, much less, um, use it."

Stony-faced, she examines the morningstar, and seems impressed. After taking it from Zander's hands however, she seems less impressed, and more worried.

"You know, this is pretty sick, but a little heavy in terms of weight, and a little heavy in terms of machinery. I don't like how many buttons there are. How can it possibly be cheap? I totally sound like my dad right now, but I just don't trust it," she says, putting the mace down gingerly.

Taking the bardiche from the outstretched hands of Friedbold, the girl nods in unison with him.

"Now this is what I'm talking about!" she exclaims. Approaching a wooden training dummy, she takes a few practices swings. Each one is graceful and smooth, until the cardboard folds in half.

"Oops!" she squeaks. "Umm, yea, I guess I can repay you for that—it's clearly even cheaper than I wanted—but no way am I using it! Oh, and are you okay with gift cards, because I have, like, a load."

Now the only inventions left are the golem and the fan. The young girl's eyes sparkle at the sight of both of these, her mind struggling to pick the better option. She tests out both of the weapons, swinging the fan this way and that way while ordering the gopnik here and there.

Suddenly, her eyes light up and she squeals with joy, "Oh em jee! Pasha Malk, you might've saved me! My mom keeps asking when I'm going to find a boyfriend, and I can just show her this golem! That'll get her to fuck right off! On top of that, he's just so drippy, I can flex on all my friends. Also, I guess he's good at killing things or whatever," she turns to Cabagarth. "Hey dude, I'm a fan of your fan, but it's just not that cool. Maybe if it was like a hoverboard or a skateboard or some shit, but as it stands, kind of a square item."

Hugging the golem (carefully, to avoid any puncture wounds from the teeth) she says joyfully, "I can tell, we're just going to be besties in all our adventures!"

The golem looks at Pasha Malk with tortured eyes and mutters, "Pisdetz."

Point for Malk.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

Scoreboard:
Wizzy: 2
Berka: 1
Malk: 1

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
As the woman and her new soviet boyfriend/bestie/bodyguard walk away, Zander stares down at the Morningstar, trying to process the criticism he received. He starts to mutter to himself, deep in thought: "... Too heavy...? It's crystal, and it was just the one rotor... Maybe she was just REALLY weak... But too many buttons...? There was only one..." Safely holstering the morningstar on his back, he recovers a notepad from his satchel, and begins scribbling notes as he walks away to find a place to focus. This convenient exit coincides with a new face approaching the smiths; A man, covered in a mysterious dark grey cloak that looks incredibly conspicuous in this setting, steps forward. He speaks in a low, gruff voice: "So, you're all supposed to be famous blacksmiths... I've been watching this charade play out, and frankly I'm not impressed. But there's nobody left I can turn to. So let's start with introductions." He pulls back the hood, revealing a pale man with piercing red eyes, a buzz-cut, and stubble covering his lower face. Various scars run across his face, the most prominent being one vertical slash over his right eye. The man flourishes his cloak, revealing a dark leather chestpiece, several knives in a bandolier across it, with ripped jeans and boots. "The name's Ezekial Deathmist... You might have heard of me." You haven't. "Yeah, I know. Awestruck. Don't say anything. Just let me finish. As you've probably heard, I'm the best merc on the coast. I've been killing things ever since I could hold a knife. In my own opinion, I'm the best in the business at what I do. But ever since my half-brother, Damien, stabbed me in the back and left me for dead in a collapsing dungeon, I've never trusted anyone. All these years, I've been a solo act, vowing to never work with another person again." He takes out a cigarette and a lighter from his back pocket, lighting a smoke. Kind of weird to stop and do that mid-explanation, but okay. After a long drag, he goes on. "But it gets lonely, you know? I understand that this path I'm on holds no room for others, but the need for companionship still burns within me, hotter than any pit of lava or 9th level fireball. Regardless, my trust now and always will lie in the blade. Here's where you come in. After that airhead got that golem, I just couldn't stay silent anymore." Ezekial starts to shift uncomfortably, as if this request seems to bring him a small amount of pain. "... Can you make me... A fffrr... A frrrrieeeeieeee.." He pauses, shakes head, takes a drag, and grits his teeth in that order. "Can you... Make me... A friend?" He seems disgusted by this concept, immediately pulling out a hip flask and downing it as if to clean his mouth out. Instead of taking a breath after, he instead opts to take an incredibly long drag on the cigarette, blowing out a smokey sigh of relief. "One that can kill."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
The old penguin farmer slaps his face with a flipper and groans, muttering, "Oye ve! When did we become a dating service?!?"

This was going to be a difficult task...

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"Hey, penguin! That fisting device sure would be useful for this customer, but I don't see it anywhere. Did you...hide it? Somewhere?"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"What?" The penguin asked, looking around.

It was true; the black studded leather case was gone.

"That silly bimbo must have stole it!"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Sausbold still nowhere to be found, the competition must still go on! Friedbold paces in an agitated manner, then retreats inside. As he possesses no blacksmithing skills of his own whatsoever, he just grabs something off the shelf of the kitchen and then busies himself with books of enchantments. Three hours later he emerges, looking quite pleased with himself. "Blacksmiths, who needs em! I may not know a tang from a blood groove, but I know a WINNING artifact when I make one! Behold, the |Painfully Unfunny| |Bowl| |That was banned in Germany for its Cruelty|!" Proudly he places the bowl before the wanderer, then pours in a pitcher of water. The wanderer's grizzled face appears, but it is not a reflection--no! The image moves and talks! "Hello, friend! Want to hear a joke? Okay...stop me if you've heard this one before: What did the duck say when she bought a lipstick? Put it on my bill! Hilarious! Get it? It's because ducks have bills, but bill is also a word for an amount a person purchasing an item is charged? Now how about another? What do you call a man with a rubber toe? Roberto! HAHAHA! What do bees do if they need a ride? Wait at the buzz stop! Get it? It's a pun for something that probably hasn't been invented yet in this setting. Ahaha, I kill myself!" The chatter continue until Friedbold seizes the bowl and empties it out onto the ground. "You see, now you always have a friend to converse with over the campfire! This cutting edge humor is "killing it", as they say! In fact the Bowl of Bad Jokes is so dangerous it has been banned in some countries, particularly the one where it makes nothing but Holocaust jokes. Just fill with water at any time, or even something stronger if listening to it makes you want to drink." Friedbold gives the man a critical once over before adding, "Or, just a thought, once you fill the bowl with water you could even combine it with soap and a wash cloth, and then perhaps you could make a real, human friend."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

A small mechanical bird that looks ambiguously like a copyrighted character from somewhere else flies through a window, only to be summarily destroyed by the warrior eunuchs. In its twitching beak is a tiny note that Cabagarth immediately runs over and snatches. "I'll be back. High priority," is all he says.


About an hour later he returns, wielding a SHIT-ENCRUSTED | AVENTURINE | SWITCHBLADE | OF PULCHRITUDE | WHICH WAS FOUND LODGED IN ELVIS'S ASSHOLE! He flips it around a few times in demonstration.


"Now this great artifact came from none other than The King! Not our king, but the musician from the future, who you'd all know about if you read the Future Times newspaper.


It's sharp! It's deadly! And it'll reliably give tetanus! The scent strikes fear in your enemies, and complements your own!" He looks at Ezekial and nods in agreement with himself.


"Now you asked about a friend! This blade is enchanted much like Friedbold's, by a wizard who uh, sells tarot cards and has taken a bit of a fall in life. But he says the money I handed him is totally going towards his future, and NOT the bottle this time!


Just what is that enchantment? The weapon is enchanted to tell you just how handsome you are! It can say a few other things, too. Listen." He holds out the weapon on his palm, closer to Ezekial.


"You look good today. And I've totally heard of you," it says.


"Amazing, right? Oh, and it says it only wants to be called Bae."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

After three days of hearing the armored blacksmith shout various things like "stoke the bellows", "cast that concave", and "more coal", the confused crowd is greeted by his stoic form once more. When he takes the stage, he begins withdrawing an item from behind his back, but he looks down and jolts.

"Oh my god!" he exclaims. "I've made a horrible error!" Scuttling back into his forging room, he closes the door. An orchestra of metallic screeches and human shuffling is heard, before he reemerges, seemingly unchanged.

"You see, I forgot to take off my smithing clothes and put on my business clothes!" he laughs awkwardly. Everyone stares, not maliciously, but just confusedly. Just like they did in middle school!

He pulls out a pair of white, iridescent underpants and clears his throat violently. He begins again, "These are not just a pair of tighty whities, for they are |Sarcastic| |Pearl| |Underpants| |Engraved with a picture of a moose|. Fanfare, go!"

A single trumpet toots pathetically. Silence hovers. The armored blacksmith walks over to the player and pulls him aside. "Goddammit," he growls. "I told you, I wanted some more pizzazz to help convince the audience on how, uh, good this, thing, is. That was piss ass, not pizzazz! Get out of here, or I'll clobber you with this!"

He returns to the stage and begins again, "Anyways, this multi-purpose tool is everything that you're looking for in a frie—companion! Let's just say companion. Let's say you're fighting some guys. Well, this thing serves as both a shield," the blacksmith puts it down, pulls out a massive claymore, and smashes the underpants to no effect. "And it's also a weapon, although I'm sure I don't have to show you the blunt trauma that it can cause. Pearl is a tough material, and if you don't believe me, just buy this thing and try it out! Now, I know you're already thinking, 'wow this is an amazing weapon', but that's not all. This moose engraving can talk! And it's got some sass!"

The moose head sighs, "If only sass were enough to make you kill yourself, stupid armored cunt."

The smith laughs heartily, "Boy, he sure is a funny guy! And before I forget, there's one last way you can use the underpants: as a helmet!" He takes the garment and puts it atop his helmet; it looks vaguely like some sort of demented spartan's helmet.

"You look like such a queer," the moose head scoffs.

The blacksmith takes a bow.

"God, is it even possible to be more gay?"

"Oh, and before I forget, the moose head can shut up on command. At least I hope, he doesn't really listen to me, but with you, it'll be different!"

"Get off the stage, it's embarassing. I just want to be used in a homicide already."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"I got nothing," the old penguin farmer belched out after downing a mug of ale. PASS?

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Ezekial listens to each of the pitches, each time stroking his stubble mysteriously and giving a noncommitial "Hm". After a period of time in thought that's somewhere between annoyingly long and surprisingly short, he signals the judges and blacksmiths that he's made his decision. "I've made my decision. But first, let me tell you why I didn't choose the others." Oh wow great that's cool he's gonna keep talking. First, he approaches the penguin farmer, and disrespectfully knocks the foil out of his... Flippers, I guess? He gives the farmer a look of pure malice. "I don't need some piece of tin to help me in my sexual conquests. As a proud member of the Guild of Noff'Ap, the women come to me. And who can blame them? You need to get your eyes checked, geezer." He flourishes his cloak in the penguin's face as he walks towards the Ottoman-esque smith next. He takes the curved dagger on a rope. "While I could probably find a use for this in some of my contracts, you've missed the point. I only trust something I can kill with. I don't play nice with others. Going back in time isn't going to change that. And this thing doesn't seem to be all that talkative." He uses the dagger to cut open a small portal, and tosses it in, lost forever. Well, until a lad comes across it lying in a dirt field about 23 years from now, but for now, it's gone. After this show of blatant assholishness, he walks over to the little kobold, standing over him menacingly as the smith holds the bowl. "Although I find jokes about the Holocaust to be the peak form of comedy, I can't kill with this. At most, I can distract a target with it and then proceed to fill it with their blood. But the real dealbreaker is the... Reflection. The laughter. That damned smile. It makes me sick." Ezekial abruptly hits the bottom of the bowl, splashing the water into Friedbold's face. He walks towards the armored blacksmith next. "These... Underwear... Seem pretty versatile, but frankly, they just look ridiculous. I'm not going to kill with them, I'm not going to shield myself with them, and I'm certainly not going to put them on my head. I'm a goddamn professional. As for the personality... Seems to be kind of an asshole." Ironic. "Close, but just too weird for me." "Fine by me, you smell like you need a change of underwear anyway. I've dodged a bullet," says the moose head. "Up yours, you canadian jock strap," replied Ezekial, finally walking over to the Gnome. He takes the knife, switches it open, and takes a couple of practice shanks. He inspects it (not too closely, for fear of getting pink eye) and switches it closed. "Now this, I can work with. Sharp material, don't need to poison it... And as for the personality..." He switches the blade back open. The blade immediately responds. "Hey there, handsome. You're the most good-looking man here." "Seems like you've figured out how to make a knife always tell the truth. This puts me at ease. I'll take it." Without any word of thanks, he starts to walk away from the smiths, new weapon in hand, but stops and turns back to the smiths. "And just so you know, It's hard being a merc. You can't always just bathe after getting knee-deep in the blood of your enemies. I clean myself when the job's done. I was just stopping by before I did so. I'm a pro. If you can't handle it, then keep it to yourself." "Oh, don't listen to them, hot stuff. Let's go stab people," The knife in his hand says. "... Alright, then... 'Bae'." With that, the two stinkiest things here make their leave, the crowd giving them a wide berth. Cabagarth takes this round.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"Poor deluded fool..." The penguin farmer tut's as the stench slowly begins to fade.

"OK, who's next?"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"Warrior-eunuchs, my hand sucks this round! Present me with the Mulligan!" Pasha Malk declares, pointing his scimitar into the air. It is preposterously curly.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"Behold!" Pasha Malk says, one mulligan later. "The..."

CHRONOMANTIC | ADAMANTIUM | KHANJAR | ON THE END OF A ROPE"

Pasha Malk hands the peculiar curved dagger, affixed to the rope, off to one of his attending warrior-eunuchs. The eunuch executes a flawless sequence of impressive spins and strikes, before vanishing in a puff of smoke. The blade lands on an awaiting velvet cushion. "As you can see, I have made a weapon capable of cutting through the very fabric of time. You can use it to literally hack your way back in time; this gives you, quite literally, all the time in the world to make friends. You could, for example, go back to a happier time, before you were an antisocial loner. It is also an adamantium blade on a rope, which makes it good for murdering people, which I know is always a priority."

In another timestream, a warrior-eunuch has successfully saved himself from castration.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
Mumbling something about "magic talking bullshit," the penguin farmer came back to the front with strange peice of refrigerator art.

It was a small sheet of tinfoil inscribed with "#1 Dad."

Foil* | Inscribed with '#1 Dad'

"So, let's face it kid," the penguin explained -- "it's not a 'friend' you really want... Like everyone else, you just want to get laid."

"Well, see this here refrigerator art? Yeah, see what it says? Yep -- '#1 Dad'."

"You don't get to be #1 Dad without kids. Now follow along here... How does one get kids?"

"Storks?" Someone volunteered.

"Mail order?!?" Another guessed.

"Free Candy!" The town perv volunteered.

"No you simple rubes!" The penguin retorted, You get kids by getting laid."

"Oh, yeah, the penguin's right," the crowd agreed.

Turning to the weeb, the penguin concluded, " So, take this sacred magic title of "#1 Dad" (I am willing to give it up, now that all seven hundred and forty nine of my kids are grown) and it will get you laid, fulfilling the prophecy that you are indeed meant to be #1 Dad!"

"And like all the rest of this junk you've already seen, it magically talks."

The penguin then held the sheet of tinfoil in front of his face to demonstrated -- to which, the tinfoil mysteriously said in a heavily penguin accented voice: "Yep, I talk! Yay me! What do you say we go get you laid now?"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

Scoreboard:

Wizzy: 2

Berka: 1

Malk: 1

Anthryno: 1

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

An absolutely buff penguin man comes riding in from afar; he's not hard to spot. He rears up the mare at the foot of the crowd when he arrives, dismounting with the thud of platemail.


"Hail! I am Sir Pengwinius of the kingdom Cystia!"


"We sent riders out to worthy locations everywhere, as we're in high need for weapons to fend off an ancient foe." he leans in. "The retards."


The crowd takes to fearful murmuring. Pengwinius lets it sink in for a few moments as he surveys the blacksmiths. He raises a hand, and they fall silent.


"They batter at the gates. While the walls are strong and our leaders capable, they have a powerful REEE and it becomes harder each week to protect the tradesmen. They just keep growing in number."


"BLACKSMITHS! What I need is a weapon that can stave off many retards at once. A weapon that slaughters one at a time is simply too inefficient."


He hefts a weighty leather bag on the table, filled with fat gold coins.


"This awaits whoever crafts the best weapon. Glory to Cystia."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

This penguin man sounds suspiciously familiar, and yet so devilishly handsome

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago

The armored blacksmith ponders the situation for a moment. He'd been prepping for some sort of catastrophic world-ending event for a while, and selling the personal possessions required for this seems immoral. At the same time, money.

He rushes out of the room, much too fast for his carapace of at least 300 pounds of steel. The spectators watch as he makes his way, legs blurring and turning into wheels, down the central street. Within mere minutes, he's back, with a massive siege weapon, constructed of a shimmering, orange gelatin—within the substance are embedded small flakes of yellowish-green.

The smith takes a pose, and announces, "Voila! This, right here, is the one and only, |Stretchy| |Jalapeno-flavored| |Trebuchet| |Of the Sun| !"

A few brows perk up at the mention of "Sun", but most come right back down when they realize that this weapon is made of the same material as those novelty exercise balls that were in fashion for a very, very short amount of time (roughly one lunch break). Several people frown, and several others go to get something spicy from the snack bar, suddenly and inexplicably craving heat.

The smith coughs, "Come on, it's rather, uh, impressive, isn't it? Haha, right?" he coughs again, this time like a pack-a-day smoker.

He turns the fit into an attempt at clearing his throat, and then continues talking, "Anyways, yea. This contraption might not look like much, but it was actually designed by me, explicitly to send hordes of tards, in huge numbers, back to the devilish short bus from whence they came! First, the sun part. This trebuchet has a pretty nasty, both on your wallet and the enemy, enchantment. It shoots straight up, motherfuckin' fireballs. Each mob you face can get an exploding mini-sun to the face! It also doesn't require any reloading nonsense, so you can fire it, like, a lot faster! If that barrage doesn't do the trick, then the trebuchet is capable of withstanding a heavy onslaught. Its incredible stretch is able to resist even the greatest of retard strength, and when they're tired of pulling, any attempt to bite it will result in a searing mouth that they definitely won't enjoy! Due to the lack of ammunition and pulleys, as well as a material much lighter than wood, this thing can be transported by a single man, or woman, allowing you to maneuver this thing around the battlefield, easily juking out the bum-rushing tards. A single horse can pull it at practically the same speed that it runs! Obviously, the weapon falters against enemies with cleaving weapons, but retards at most use a hammer. It also suffers against those with a refined palate, but retards lack that as well! With the safety of your city at risk, you surely won't take anything less than the power of the sun, will you?"

BLACKSMITH Game 1

4 months ago
"I've got just the thing for you!" The old penguin farmer cheered, hurrying over to a nearby shed with a sign hanging out front that read: 'Horseshoes. Buy two, get one free.'

After a flurry of horeshoes came flying out of the shed, the penguin soon followed, toting a long pollax out over his shoulder.

The weapon was a sleek black iron color - the blade of which was engraved with the image of an angry man with a tiny nub of a mustache, yelling something in German.

"Behold! The Angry Pollax of Destiny! Otherwise known as 'Tard Slayer!'"

"You see, this is a Poll Axe -- not to be confused with a simple axe on a pole -- specifically created to slay Pollocks!"

"Pollocks?" Someone in the crowd questioned.

"You know, 'Retards'," the penguin replied. "Back before PC culture ruined everything, autists, down syndrome babies, sorry fools, and the Pollocks were all collectively known as Retards -- or simply Tards for short."

"Anyway, this axe is destined to be the death of all Polls -- a single swing of it slaying every tard within a twenty yard radius!"

"Needless to say," the penguin continued, "we can't demonstrate it here in town with all the locals standing in range."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago
As if on cue, Zander emerges from the crowd, his notebook in hand. "Greetings, friends! I have deduced where I've erred in the previous round, and I am now ready to continue!" Putting his notebook away, he pulls out a small rod from his satchel, pressing a switch. This causes one end to split, and many smaller appendages start to emerge from it, pouring out over each other and ending up as whip-like addons. Sometimes, a lone strand or two will move slightly of it's own accord. Zander brandishes the weapon. "Behold! The |Twitching|Dynamite|Scourge|Of the Plague|! Now, everyone clear a space! A big one, if you'd please!" He takes out another few capsules from his bandoleer, and as the crowd moves away from the man with the throbbing lash, he throws them in the now-cleared area. The capsules break open as they land, causing several enemy-sized test dummies to inflate on the spot. Zander readies the weapon. "Compressed quick-hardening foam. Don't want to get into it. Anyway, as you might have noticed, the limbs of this weapon move autonomously. Don't worry, it's not cursed. That's just the targeting system making micro-adjustments. For as you can see:" Zander pulls back the Scourge, and swings it towards the dummies. The whips quickly elongate, darting through the air, and lashing each of the targets, before quickly retracting back to normal size. One of the barbed-ended ones remains stuck in a dummy. "This weapon is capable of long-rage attacks. But it seems one of the whips is stuck; Not to worry. Just a quick tug..." Zander pulls the weapon backwards, and the tendril detaches from the barb, exposing a lit fuse. After a few seconds, the barb (and, naturally, the dummy) explodes. "Explosive ends. And if that wasn't enough, notice the wounds on the targets, as well as the residual gas from the explosion." Upon further inspection, the wounds and dust cloud both spot an unhealthy green glow. The dummy's foam insides and wounded outer layer are exponantially eaten away. The cloud falls upon the earth, causing the grass to wither and die. Zander presses the switch on the handle again, and the tendrils slowly detract back into the rod. "I've contructed an artificial pathogen, which attacks organic material. It's unstable as well, and dissapates completely into harmless compenents after several hours, meaning you won't turn your kingdom into a hellscape for using it, unlike certain OTHER man-made viruses... Anyway, you seem like you aren't playing around. This weapon isn't either."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago
Pasha Malk sighs mournfully. "I am loathe to part with this weapon, for it was instrumental in putting down the feral cat invasions that used to pain these lands. Still, I am a slave to victory. Warrior-eunuchs, bring in...

ANGUS YOUNG'S | ORICALCHUM | WUNDERWAFFE | FORGED BY THE 8 HANDS OF NAUTILLOID CRAFTSMEN

A warrior-eunuch drives in the "weapon", which resembles a comically oversized World War 2 tank. The hull is made of a sheening almost-bronze. It bristles with a comical amount of smaller weapons; machine guns, flammenwerfers, various other kinds of werfer. The main implement is a an absurdly large cannon. The heavily armoured war machine resembles a lethal porcupine. Curiously, mounted on the top, is a comically oversized pair of speakers; they would be more at home at a stadium concert than a battlefield.

Angus Young had this comissioned, many moons ago, so that it could deliver the sweet musical stylings of AC/DC while defending him from wasteland mongrels. Since that time, it has fallen to me, and now, I pass this on to you, so that you may annihilate dozens of retards at once while enjoying the highest audio fidelity rock and roll music.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago
(Oh no, oh crap, I'm the last one! This is not the good kind of pressue, I prefer second to last and then tagging the last and angrily demanding they write their entry...) Friedbold glared daggers after the crusty wanderer, which unfortunately were made of figurative speech and thus far less likely to give this shockingly rude human a disease than the actual blade the man had chosen. It only made matters worse that he'd picked the invention of the FAKE blacksmith. His muttered curses in the kobold tongue didn't have time to escalate into fullblown screeching over the fact the FAKE blacksmith had been chosen however, as just then another FAKE bird arrived. This one was wearing platemail, like the mysterious armored blacksmith, and a penguin, like the slack jawed yokel, and riding a horse whose rearend surely had some relation to that furry Pasha creature. "That is quite a LOT in common with my competition...I suppose this round will be another miscarriage of justice." Friedbold sighed as only the truly put upon, misunderstood, and oppressed can sigh, and decided he might as well find wherever Sausbold had wandered off to instead. The little kobold searched high and low, over hills and whatever a dale is. It felt like it took many days, maybe four of them. When he finally found his wayward brother, Sausbold was struggling with some curiously wrought artifact. Friedbold stopped and stared in disbelief. "Is that--" ***** The return trip was also a struggle that felt like it took many days, maybe even four more, but that was silly of course because they arrived back well within the alotted 24 hours, huffing and puffing as they dragged a large object into the middle of the competition area. "We found...ah, INVENTED this, the exact weapon you need," Friedbold proudly proclaimed, pointing at some kind of iron pole attached to a thick slab of concrete. A lantern was affixed to the top, casting a sinister red light upon the audience. "It's an |Ominously glowing| |Street lamp| |Found stuck in a stone|! And...well, it's still in the stone. We couldn't figure out how to get it out of there. But the way it works is like so: You take a razor to some paper, and cut out some words. Then, you wrap the paper around the lamp, just like this." With the light partially blocked, immense shadows were cast over the gathered crowd and the castle walls, leaving glowing red letters from the uncovered lantern spelling out the text from a popular story. "Now, what do retards hate the most? Reading, obviously. They just can't do it. They WON'T do it. And so with this lantern set up at the right angle, the stories appear from the shadows cast. You can protect an entire castle wall at once. The retards will see words shining red on the walls, and flee immediately to drown themselves in the river lest they find out what they say." Sausbold said something then in the kobold language, and Friedbold translated. "Ah yes, and Sausbold wishes to remind you that if you ever need help fishing retard corpses out of the river of Cystia, there's probably a card for that, t-- um, what?" Friedbold frowned. "Sausbold, what do you mean by cards? We don't have any cards. That didn't make any sense."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago
I'm good with this being the last round, but let's all at least submit our final answers :)

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago
I'd like to continue, I just never feel pressured unless it looks like I'll be the last one if I don't hurry. I'll see if I can get mine to tonight though.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago

Get Malk to stop puncturing cervixes and do his as well.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago
There you go, miz. A small amount of pressure.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago

Sir Pengwinius observes each weapon brought out.


"This trebuchet seems effective. Perhaps, too much. That power surely comes from somewhere. Fireballs, you say? Hmm...I know a demon deal when I see one. "


He walks over to the Pollax to feel its heft. "This is also a fine weapon," he remarks. "A 60-foot arc of death on every swing. Simple and effective. I'm sure it would win most weaponsmithing competitions, but you have some fierce competition that I think might outweigh this weapon." He returns it carefully and walks to the next smith.


"I'd like to see that." After a moment's consideration, he hands the scourge whip back to a confused Zander. "I like it. The gaseous death would certainly work. It might strip all the grass and vegetation though, even if it doesn't linger for years. More importantly, if you could lose barbs to a dummy, this would quickly get stripped by the bark-like skin of the retards. I'm afraid I won't have the time to replace them while it's in constant use."


Sir Pengwinius exits the room entirely, walking outside to see the wunderwaffe.


"This...this is the most beautiful weapon I've ever seen," he says with a hint of moisture in his eyes. "I've heard of the legends of Angus Young, and it would be an honor to own this. I can't imagine the pleasure it'd bring me to listen to Who Made Who while crumpling a horde of retards into a more valuable shape. But..."


He walks over to the lamp post. "A passive victory is the best way to go, since our kingdom has a spot of laziness. All the self-drowning will feed back into the ecosystem too and result in..." He pauses for a minute. "An increase in capybaras! And pirhannas. That's a win in my book."


He gives a handshake to Sausbold and Friedbold each, handing over the promised coinage.


"I'm sure I will return later for the wunderwaffe, when the budget isn't thinned so badly, and offer you what it's actually worth. I could never gip you of its value in these circumstances. I wouldn't want to make enemies with the man who has the most curved swords."


The kobolds win this round.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago

Scoreboard:

Wizzy: 2

Berka: 1

Malk: 1

Anothyny: 1

Mizal: 1

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago
"We win? WE WIN! Finally, my talent was recognized!" Friedbold crowed in the midst of an exultant dance. Sausbold seemed a bit skeptical of something about that statement, and stood impassively by. It wasn't long however before the smaller kobold rushed to his side, shoving a burlap sack in his hands. "Forget this blacksmithing nonsense, let's go find more discarded junk we can dazzle these customers with. That is the path to victory!" Perhaps they would have gotten away with it too, but moments after they ran off, there was a flash of purple light in the middle of the square. A man in a long weatherbeaten coat with silver buckles and a broad brimmed hat appeared. A steak and wooden mallet were tucked into his belt, along with an assortment of knives, and he carried a garland of garlic slung over one shoulder. "Oh heck, not again! What is this, cooking contest?" he asked, swiftly drawing and brandishing a sous pan with a sharpened wooden handle at the approaching guards. Thankfully they were able to explain the situation and calm him down before anyone got hurt, and after a bit of discussion, it was suggested that the new arrival lead a surprise round in the competition! "All right, blacksmiths. I've Corvin Blackmoon, and I will be your customer today. All you need to know about me is that my passion is cooking. I've been on quest to perfect my art whenever I'm not getting side tracked slaying creatures of the night, and that is what I want from you: something that will help me create the most delicious food in the world." He pauses. Considers. "And you know, if it also helps with my side job, that's a bonus, but not a requirement or anything. Anyway, good luck to you all! Remember, try not to get the lowest score, or you'll be killed!" An attendent rushed over to whisper something to him. "Oh, uh...you won't be killed? That's great actually, I'm happy for you. This is a much nicer contest than the last one."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago

The armored blacksmith sticks his pointer finger in the air and shouts "A-ha!", before scampering into his smithy with no further explanation.

He emerges with an axe, of slightly peculiar proportions. The blade is very wide, bordering on dinner plate, while the handle is ridiculously short, only about a foot long. The blade is made from a single layer of bone.

"Mr. Blackmoon, I present you with the |Concentrated| |Jawbone| |Dane Axe| |That Dissolves the flesh of those with Evil in their Heart|," he announces proudly. "It was made from the jawbone of a massive shark (organic and non-gmo by the way) which was one tough beast. As a result, this is one tough axe. Unfortunately, its use in combat is not recommended, as most of the mass is concentrated in the obscenely large blade. However! This axe is perfect for utilization in the kitchen: its surface can easily be used to cook and handle food on, and it can obviously be used to chop things up, which it does very well. You can also use the flat side for mashing food up, and the handle can be used as a stirring device that is quite resistant to heat!"

The armored blacksmith returns to his chambers, brings out a table with a few slabs of meat—not fresh at all but still suitable for a demonstration—and a few heads of cabbage. He annihilates the ingredients in the aforementioned ways, and takes a bow.

He springs up mid-bow, "Oh, right, I nearly forgot! You said you have issues with creatures of the night. Well, this axe will dissolve them with so much as a touch! Unfortunately for anyone trying to commit genocide, it only works on evil creatures, but for you, that seems right up your alley. Then, you can use their remains as additional ingredients and spices! Right? I'm not really good at cooking, I'm not quite sure on that part. But hey, it's better than trying to drive a stake through a vampire's heart, and you can devote more time to cooking!"

Now the blacksmith takes a full, proud bow.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago
The old penguin farmer’s eyes lit up at the mention of cooking. “Aha! I have just the thing!”

Whipping a walkie-talkie out from under his straw hat, he called into it - “Yeah, we have a go for airdrop.”

“Roger that,” crackled back a reply.

A couple of moments later, a huge cargo plane flew in low to drop a crate out the back. A parachute opened and brought the crate safely to the ground amid the confused crowd of townsfolk.

The penguin farmer then clapped his flippers twice, and a small army of mentally diminished pygmy penguins clambered out from a nearby sewer grate to beat the crate open with a bunch of books.

With the crate reduced to a steaming pile of autism infused splinters, the little penguins retreated back into the bowels of the city – leaving the contents of the crate out for all to see.

It was a large copper statue of a frog in a chef’s hat holding out a rounded pan.

(Copper | Frog Statue | Of the Baker)

“This is just what you asked for,” the penguin explained. I got this on the shopping network late one night and have never regretted it! It’s a genuine Copper Frog Statue of the Baker!”

“And what does it do? It dispenses any spice, ingredient, or garnish for whatever you need to cook! Can’t find baby harp seal steaks at your local grocer? No problem, the Copper Frog Statue of the Baker has you covered! Need a pound of saffron by noon? Granted! Edible gold foil sprinkles for the king’s coronation cake? They will talk about your creation for years!”

“All you have to do is place a few coppers into the pan and tell it what you want. Like so – ”

The penguin then demonstrated by dropping a penny into the pan and saying “chocolate chips.”

The penny vanished and a cup of chocolate chips appeared. The old farmer dumped the chocolate chips down his gullet.

“Mmm, good stuff!” he said.

“It helps if you actually know how to cook, as it only provides the ingredients, but you certainly look like a culinary master if I ever saw one. And as you know, all the best cookware is made of copper, so there’s that too.”

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago
Zander was stunned. He simply didn't understand how his inventions kept falling short. The morningstar had too many buttons, despite only having one. The scourge was unsustainable, even though it didn't NEED to be replaced. His weapons of mass innovation lost out to a super slave and a lamp post. He was doing SOMETHING wrong, but what?! As these thoughts were racing through his mind, Zander had barely even registered that there was a new customer. When it came to be his turn to present an item, he was harldy present, most of his brainpower trying to analyze any sort of mistake he could have made. "Oh. Um... One moment." Mr. Quinn absentmindedly reached into his satchel, pulling out a small tin. Opening the tab, a long piece of rope came pouring out of it. Zander starts to slowly roll it into a loop. "Molecular compression, don't really want to get into it... Uh... This... Is a |Rope|... Um... |Of Ohio|." There was a collective 'oooooh' with an 'I see' or two thrown in there, the crowd being on the edge of their metaphorical seats for this riveting reveal. "... Well... With rope, you, uh... Have many uses. Tying up things, attaching things, climbing... things. Standard adventurer's item, and all that... But, you can ALSO use it for... Cooking. I suppose..." A shocked gasp comes from the crowd! A rope?! For cooking?!?! Inconcievable! This has never been done before! "Aside from the, uh... Standard rope things a rope can do... You can also use it for cooking things. Like, say, tying up a piece of meat... Or, y'know, suspending a wok or other large pan above an open flame... Or something..." Wow! "As for the 'Of Ohio' part, um... Maybe... If you cook an Ohio dish with it, it will, uh... Enhance the flavor... I guess?" The crowd start going absolutley ballistic as he finishes his pitch. Of all the uses rope has had over the years, absolutely NOBODY in this crowd had thought to use it for cooking! This is a revolutionary idea! The Rope Industry will surely see a boom in the next few years, greatly widening their consumer base from just adventurers and the average CoG user! There's cheering all around as Zander hands off the rope to a contest aid, proceeding to take a moment to sit down, head in his hands.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago
By the mocking laugh of a redcap! Cabagarth grumbles out a string of gnomish curses after sleeping through an entire round. Really should set aside a few days to have that demon exorcised from his blood. He takes a look around to see what everyone's working on this round. Seems they'res checking through their cooking ware. What the hell? Oh, but a few have weapons too. So it's a dual-themed round, then. He sets to work.

A concert of sounds erupt as he rummages around, tossing pots and an unusual number of kettles aside. For hours, there's only the sound of welding and forging. Near the end of the day, he wipes his brow in satisfaction.

"Behold gentlefolk, and also the kobolds calling me fake right now! Here's my jalapeno-Flavored | Porcelain | Khakkara | With Wings!"

"Hey, if that's porcelain, how did you forg-"

"Gnomish secrets," he chuckles at the non-believer. "First I'll tell you why this is the best for food. The headpiece of this khakkara happens to have a jalapeno enchantment on it, so it'll add that heat to anything you rest on it. While you may have a lot of metal, as any adventurer does, porcelain has its benefits in cooking as well. The spikes are sharp enough to carve with, and strong enough to crack through bone. There's no need to worry about chipping, since enchanted things tend to be much more resistant. The metal wings attached are useful for cooking simple things on, like eggs or even fish. And also, a khakkara usually carries a lot of rings hooped through the hollow headpiece. I've attached hooks to these so you can carry all manner of food from them, like garlic."

"As a weapon, it's pretty simple to operate. It's a bit like a fancy spear. I bet you could put meat on the end and still drive the steak through a vampire!" Cabagarth chuckles alone in the crowd.

BLACKSMITH Game 1

3 months ago

Pasha Malk's rodent eyes light up. Finally, a challenge for him, a gourmand of gourmands. "Warrior-eunuchs! Bring me the..

Panther-Headed | Emerald | Butter Knife | of Drunkenness | 

A trembling warrior-eunuch, exhausted from the effort of fetching things from Pasha Malk's personal armoury smithy,  presents the aforementioned object. It is a massive, shimmering, crystaline knife with a green blade. A living panther's head is attached to the bottom. The blade drips with a seemingly endless supply of bourbon. 

"Behold, my friend! The ultimate instrument of spreading. With this mighty chopper, never again be foiled by a block of cold butter. With it's tremendous girth, heft, and length, you never need be foiled again; it is good for bashing and sawing, stabbing, and parrying, thrusting, feinting..." 

"Tell zem zee best part," says the panther head. It has an extremely French accent. 

"It comes attached with the head of a living panther! My close personal friend Francois , whom I beheaded, transmogrified, and attached to the hilt. Every night he screams for death; until you put him out of his misery, force him to taste your recipes and offer useful feedback!" 

"Kill me," says Francois. 

"Later. You seem like a hard drinking man, so let me say; this blade is enchanted to produce an endless amount of liquor. Suspend it upside down above your flask, and let the bourbon (a most manly drink) drip down into the collector. Make sure to grimace when you take a swig. Manlily." 

BLACKSMITH Game 1

2 months ago
Corvin walks from one blacksmith to another, thoughtfully examining the offerings. "Hmm. This copper frog's capabilities are impressive indeed, but unfortunately it seems like it would be extremely difficult to lug around as I travel the worlds and dimensions, and I don't have a cargo plane of my own." He moved on then to the armored fellow's axe. "Now THIS is tempting. Dissolving the flesh of evil? Hell yeah! And it's a cutting board or a chopper..." He hefts it experimentally and frowns a bit. "Similar problem to the frog though, it's quite a task to carry it around or even to swing it at the undead, I'd definitely go for one of my other weapons first in a pinch. And as far as cooking goes, it unfortunately doesn't do anything more mundane and easily available items don't do already." Then onto the next contestant. "A rope, for cooking?!" Corvin's eyes go wide with wonder as he held it in his hands. "Never before have I encountered such an idea! But....I already have a rope. Standard adventurer gear." He places the item back in its tin. "Thanks for the idea though, I'll be sure to utilize it in my future adventures! Uh, minus the flavor of Ohio." "Ah now what's this?" He lifts the khakkara and looks it over. "Ooh, this is some kind of Buddhist thing, so that should count as holy. That and the fancy spear point with all the spikes and wings looks pretty brutal, certainly could be useful for roasting meats and in inflicting jalapeno flavored wounds in the undead. Ceramic utensils hold heat for a long time, and those rings would be useful for carrying bundles of herbs without bruising them. You know, I think--oh what the hell, IT'S A FRENCH PANTHER!" Corvin leapt into action, smashing the spear into Francois' head several times. "And it's also undead!" He stopped finally, panting and staring down at the bloody pulp peppered with skull fragments. "Cool knife though." He took a moment to contemplate his final decision. "You know what, I think I'll go with this khakkara. And not just because I feel awkward handing it back covered in decaying brain goop. One point for this completely authentic gnome fellow."

BLACKSMITH Game 1

2 months ago

Scoreboard:

Wizzy: 2

Berka: 1

Malk: 1

Mathonius: 2

Mizal: 1

BLACKSMITH Game 1

2 months ago

"I have received word of a troupe of gorillas who have yet to submit to Allah. You'll have to pardon me," Pasha Malk says, temporarily leaving with his whole retinue of warrior eunuchs. 

A few moments later, a muscle-bound, moustachioed freak of a man enters the scene. He needs no introduction. You recognize him as Bulk Brogan, infamous reigning champion of the Cystian Professional Pitfighters league. 

"Hey brotherrr, I'm looking for a new weapon to punish jobbers in the ring. It's gotta look dangerous and put on a good show for the people, but it can't be too lethal. I'll reward whichever one of you Bulkamaniacs creates the best weapon  with one of my signed leotards, still wet with the great man's sweat."