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Salted Sands (A Caves of Qud-Inspired Cultivation Quest)

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Ah well, can't win 'em all. We still succeeded at the base level check.

And yeah, I don't think we need a refund. We wanted the stuff we bought eventually anyway and we're gonna get more xp after this, one presumes.

The only remaining big thing we still need for basic competence is the Movement Stat and, like, Stealth and Riding skills for it or something like that, and that's not something we would've bought before this, so...
 
I think leaving the XP as is is fine yeah. As much as I push against playing A Crafter again, I do think the 'oh I can build a mortar or bomb' plans were a fun example of crafting being used to solve a problem, not to create a stat stick, and thus interesting.

I'm sure in the future we will wanna be able to take those kinds of choices it only because they're pretty cool.
 
Alright, got the outline all written out.

Why don't you folks roll me some loot, eh? How this works is pretty simple, but we'll just go through it step-by-step.

First, someone should roll me 3d4 (it isn't always 3 and it isn't always d4s, but this time it is). This is to determine how many pieces of loot from the pile is good enough for you to hold onto while the remainder is converted into currency.
 
Alright, not super great, but you'll still get more than the minimum!

Next, roll me a d6 for each of the pieces of loot (1=Headwear, 2=Bodywear, 3=Limbwear, 4=Weapon, 5=Trinket, 6=Consumable)
 
This is karma for your incredible rolls earlier, lmao

Regardless, while it would be incredibly funny to give you 3 identical commemorative t-shirts, let's go ahead and reroll those dice, eh?
 
A hat, a shirt, a trinket, and a consumable. A nice spread of items indeed.

Roll a 1d2 for the headwear (1=hat, 2=mask)
Shirt has been pre-decided by me, as I've had an idea
Roll a 1d100 for the trinket
Roll a 1d3 (1=Throwable, 2=Injectable, 3=Cultivatable)
 
I'll get the consumable again

Edit: Guess we're shooting ourself up with this random drug we found lol
CedeTheBees threw 1 3-faced dice. Total: 2
2 2
 
Eater said:
If it's like injectors in Qud it's likely to be an incredibly powerful, incredibly situational short to mid term boost, or a powerful healing item.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
You are correct

To use this as a jumping-off point, a lot of the items and cultivation abilities you will receive and develop won't provide numerical boosts, but will provide options you otherwise would not have available to you
 
Alright, I'm going to need a funny Perception roll (2d100). Normally, I wouldn't have you roll this as you don't have (Scouting) or (Investigation) or anything like it, but I'll allow it this one time.

This is a DC 4 check. Very unlikely that you manage to do it, but perhaps the dice are on your side today?


Actually, belay that.
 
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I think I have to make a post to roll?

Edited. Through the first two. Got 104. Then through the third one for a second explosion. Didnt mean to break procedure.
Grytorm threw 3 100-faced dice. Total: 200
80 80 24 24 96 96
 
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Bombing the Monsterhive
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Plan: All In Bombs
    -[x] Spend 1xp on Perception (Scavenging)
    -[X] Spend 2xp on Crafting stat
    0~0~0

    Heavy mist hangs off thick tree-branches as Kell and Karter traipse through the dimly lit forestscape. Their footsteps ring like mealtime gongs in the quiet as their eyes scan each plant, the object of their search escaping them even now. Kell's salt-eyes have long since burnt through Karter's ka, leaving him as blind as any other man in this shrouded sea.

    "Remind me again what we're looking for?" Karter asks as he takes a long stride over a bubbling pool of mud, careful to keep his flowing robes from trailing in the boiling muck below. "Something about a 'sparkleaf'?"

    "Sulfur is a rare find in Nareeve," Kell says as he gently pushes a low-hanging tree branch from his path, the lessons of the past resurfacing with every step and every breath, "saltpeter even more so. With two ingredients of gunpowder in short supply, how can Surran be home to gunsmiths of any repute?"

    Karter's cloth-bound fingers scratch at his stark white mask as he tilts his head to the side, "Now that you mention it, that is pretty damn odd," shattered irises gleam with humor as a chuckle soon follows, "I assume it has something to do with this snapleaf?"

    "You are correct," Kell says with a short bob of the head, "Snapleaf, when crushed into a fine powder, has nearly identical properties to gunpowder. Most bullets in Nareeve are made with snapleaf powder."

    "Very interesting," Karter says with a slight hop to his step, "Never really gave much thought to where my bullets came from, just that there was always some ready when I go to buy more."

    "I can make bullets for you!" The words come so fast and with such intensity that it leaves Kell spinning. It takes him far longer than it should to recognize them as his own.

    Karter's broken eyes rest on Kell for a long moment, the emotion behind them imperceptible. Eventually, he offers a nod and voice with slight humor, "That's very generous of you, Kell, I gladly accept." A small chuckle fills the air as Karter wags a hand, "We can talk pricing once we've dealt with the monsters."

    Kell only nods at that, seemingly retreating inwards with the betrayal of his voice. Sparks of confusion dance around his mind as his thoughts race with wonder. Kell is nowhere near that energetic, not normally and never that suddenly. Even when his emotions get the better of him and break through the blanket of calm, there's always some warning of the storm to come. Why now was it different? What changed between past and present?

    Fortunately, the introspection lasts only a few minutes before the tell-tale scent of gun smoke fills the air. A poignant, acrid stench, there's no mistaking the presence of a sparkleaf when one draws close. The sharp crack of too-close thunder followed by indistinct shouting is all it takes to seal the deal.

    "That's right, you gargantuan ignoramous!" The voice clears up with a gleeful cackle as Kell and Karter close in, "That's what you get when you try and eat me!"

    Pushing through a hedge-like wall of bushes and low-hanging branches, Kell and Karter stop at the edge of a barren wasteland of a forest meadow. Where once flowers and grass once grew, now all that remains are craters and crevices. Looking to all the world like the surface of one of the moons, the bombed-out craters are testament to the explosive might of an irate sparkleaf.

    Smoke billows from the freshest of the plantmade earth-wounds as the sole living thing in the meadow keeps up its tirade of abuse. "Here's a tip for your next cycle, fertilizer-freak, don't steal a sparkleaf from their beauty sleep!"

    "It's the middle of the day, for Man's sake!" Karter grumbles as he squints at the sun beaming through the mist-choked clouds. He sighs, shaking his head, "You're going to have to handle this one, Kell, I'm not sure I'll manage biting my tongue."

    Kell blinks, slight disbelief curling around his heart. Him? Talking to people? There are many things Kell is good at. He can keep a cool head in tense situations. He is a dab hand at gunplay and knows the ins and outs of firearm construction. He even knows a thing or two about where to source materials!

    What Kell most definitely is not, however, is good at talking to people. Whether a result of his lacking emotions or some other uncertain affliction, Kell struggles to make sense of the words and ways and proper proceedings of conversation. Sure, he understands the logical steps one must take to speak well—one person talks at a time, interrupting is rude, asking questions is typically not, that sort of thing—but actually executing those deceiving demands is an entirely different beast.

    Alas, with Karter refusing to interact with the plant, it falls to Kell to pick up the slack. With no choice in the matter, Kell makes like a man and does his duty. Swallowing a deep breath, Kell musters up all the information on sparkleafs he's soaked up over the years and steps toward the plant.

    The faint words of Father tumble through Kell's head as he focuses on the task before him. Like all gunsmiths in Surran and the other oases lacking in the ingredients of gunpowder, Father spent most of his time outside of the workshop on his hands and knees in the garden. For a gunsmith to be successful in any measure of the word, he must ensure that his end of the bargain is always upheld.

    'Sparkleafs,' Father's words nearly send Kell stumbling to the ground, the memory's clarity hitting him like a sandstorm does the desert, 'are nothing if not vain. Should you ever find yourself negotiating for leaf-rights, or for any other reason, remember this lesson well. Appeal to their vanity, shower them in empty flattery and hollow praise if nothing genuine comes to mind—sparkleafs won't be able to tell the difference anyways.'

    Nodding to himself and the memory, Kell sharpens his gaze on the otherwise innocent-looking plant. Sparkleafs come in all shapes and sizes, for the title belongs to a family of species rather than any one type of plant. This particular sparkleaf—with its collection of large, starburst-shaped leaves and the sheer amount of space it covers—is no doubt a 'bomberbush', which means that it is in possession of one of the strongest explosives amongst the many sparkleaf species.

    Taking a deep breath, Kell drops to his knees a fair distance from the bomberbush, plants his hands against the ground, and lowers his brow until it touches the disturbed earth. Rehearsing his words one last time, Kell grits his teeth, silences the grumbling pride hot against his chest, and lifts his voice to the heavens, "I offer you my good greetings, oh mighty master of munitions!"

    Silence reigns as Kell's lips thin. If, for any reason, the bomberbush should take offense at Kell's existence, it wouldn't be more than a swish of a branch before he was nothing more than another crater on the ground. Sparkleafs may be vain, but that doesn't make them any less dangerous should their temper be tripped. With nothing else to do, Kell begins to silently count to ten, his mind focused on keeping time with his breathing.

    Karter shifts in the distance, his weight swaying from one foot to the next. His twitching fingers inch towards the saber angled through the sash about his waist, as if wishing to take vengeance for his cousin's injured pride. That, or perhaps he's simply preparing for if the plant takes offense? Either way, Karter stands ready for whatever hell may come.

    By the time Kell reaches ten, the bomberbush finally deigns to make a respectable response. "Finally, someone with manners!" A loud, booming laugh thunders across the landscape as Kell's teeth rattle in his head, "Tell me, polite boy, what brings you to the land of Scorch-flo?"

    Focusing on his breathing, Kell swallows the sparks of righteous indigance as he responds—after waiting the three seconds true that politeness requires, of course, "I have travelled far and wide in search of the fruit of fire. Long have I wandered, through lands both harsh and harrowing, to find the greatest of the gunsmith's flower. Here, I have come, for you bear the explosives I require."

    Three seconds pass as the bomberbush considers Kell's words, "You speak with true respect, honorable child, but I must wonder this: why would it be in my interest to give up my only means of defense? These are troubled times we live in, it would be foolish in the extreme to strip me of all my strength."

    "My companions and I," Kell once more silences the burning embers of anger at being called a 'child', "seek to rid these lands of some of the troubles, but to do so we require firepower of a strength only you can provide!"

    A rasp starts to creep into Kell's voice as he falls silent, his vocal cords unfamiliar to being used for such lengths, but the plant seems not to notice as it responds in kind, "Your words ring true, brave boy, so I shall give to you what you seek. A single branch is all I can spare, but know that you walk with my blessing and strike fire into horror's heart."

    A sharp crack splits the air as, sailing through the light mists swirling about the meadow, comes a leaf-laden branch. Leaping to his feet, Kell focuses on catching the flying missile before it has a chance to hit the ground and send him straight to the afterlife. It won't be easy for him to catch it—unless he suddenly develops a death-wish—so it'll require every drop of focus in his body to remain alive. The slightest pressure and the leaves explode, so he'll have to catch it by the branch and without touching any of the leaves in the process.

    His fingers flex and his pulse quickens, the missile closing in far faster than expected.

    He need not worry, however, as a bright flash of mist-like blue envelops the missile, stopping it in its track as Karter keeps his cousin safe. His breathing steady and shallow, Karter directs the branch to Kell's arms, who takes it as gently as he can manage. After all, a single branch of the bomberbush is enough to blow up just about any building in a village.

    Sharing a somewhat nervous glance between them, Kell and Karter turn their gazes to the leaf-laden bomb resting in Kell's hands.

    (+2 XP)
    0~0~0

    The process of turning the leaves from angry bombs to slightly more controlled explosives is long and arduous. It, however, is far from dangerous—as long as one knows what they're doing—and allows for some time to think, plan, and discuss.

    "So," Karter begins as Kell gently removes the well-chewed wad of spit-slick leaves from his mouth—lacking a mortar and pestle, this is the best Kell can do, "I've heard that the Surranese lack ka, but I wasn't all too certain until, well," he waves a hand at the now-barren branch sitting beside them, "you know."

    "You said that it was unfair of your mother to send one without ka on this task?" Kell tilts his head to the side, his fingers reaching for the next bundle of bitter, sulfur-tasting leaves, "Why would you say that if you were not certain it was true?"

    Karter shrugs, "I dunno, I guess I just didn't really clock exactly what it'd entail." He pauses for a moment, as if coming to some odd realization, before continuing, "Well, not everyone with ka would be able to catch the branch, I guess. You have to train your ability to handle things remotely, which is a bit of a pain and not everyone bothers with it."

    "How does one train their ka?" Kell asks just before placing the bundle in his mouth, his face unchanging as he softly chews.

    Karter blinks before tapping himself on the foremask, "Of course you wouldn't know!" He chuckles to himself and shakes his head, "Well, before I can answer your question, I've gotta cover some basic info. First of all, there's as many schools of thought on breathing as there are stars in the night sky. Some people profess long, deep breaths, others short and shallow, others still claim that holding one's breath makes the strongest ka." Karter shrugs, "All breathing techniques have their place, though, and some are better for some things while others are better for others."

    Taking the now-chewed wad from his mouth, Kell places it with the others as he considers his next question, "How does one unlock their ka?"

    "Breathe the tides," Karter's answer is as informative as it is long. He blinks, noticing Kell's stare, "No, seriously, that's how you do it. Breathe in during the in-tide, breathe out during the out-tide. From midnight to the next, you will take two breaths."

    "That," Kell's brows twist into a frown as his fingers pause just before the next leafy bundle, "That is impossible. Twenty-four hours with only two breaths? Nobody can do that."

    Karter chuckles, a sly gleam in his shattered eyes, "Not without a lot of conditioning, no. Honestly," Karter folds his hands behind his head as he rolls over onto his back, his mask now facing the mist-swirling skies, "I'm a little jealous of you. Imagine how much I could've gotten done if I hadn't spent near half my childhood training my breathing!"

    Kell freezes, the bundle falling from numb fingers. Half a childhood? That's... That's eight years. Eight years to unlock ka... Gods, how is he supposed to avenge his family now?

    Warmth blossoms in his heart as raw, unadulterated hate tightens in his chest. His breath catches in his throat as tears pool in his salted eyes, his hands twisting into tight balls of fury. Emotions unfiltered by the calming blanket, for the first time in his short life, Kell truly understands why Father always spat at the mention of the Baron's name. It was he who forbade the teaching of ka. It was he who stole Kell's vengeance from him.

    The Baron would pay. One way or another, the Baron would pay.

    But... But how is Kell to accomplish that without a drop of ka?

    Despair, dark and dreary and deadly all at the same time, threatens to rise up from the depths of his soul. The blanket of calm failing him in his time of need, the tendrils of depression slither up to wrap around his heart. There is no hope of revenge, no hope of making things right. It's useless trying, it's a pointless struggle. He might as well just crush some leaves and get it over with, at least then he'd be able to meet his family in the afterlife. Maybe his next cycle would treat him better?

    A hand on his shoulder silences his thoughts, a familiar voice cutting through the darkness with a saber's sharpened edge, "Kell, though I know not the thoughts in your head, hear my words and feel their truth. There is life in your limbs, there is breath in your lungs, there is strength in your heart."

    Kell turns, red eyes puffy and cheeks slick with freely spilling tears, to look Karter in the eye, "Is... Is that the only path to ka?"

    Karter's grip tightens on Kell's shoulder as a second hand finds a home on the other shoulder. Pulling Kell in close, Karter's arms wrap around his cousin as Kell collapses into the embrace, "Cousin, Kell, this I promise you; We will find a way, or we will make one. Come hell, come hunger, come all the horrors of the night, you will have ka."

    The blanket of calm creeps in from the edges of Kell's thoughts as he buries his face in Karter's chest. With his last bit of raw emotion, Kell's words find themselves flowing freely, "Th-thank you, Karter."

    "Anytime, Kell," Karter's eyes gleam bright, the smile obvious even under the mask. "Shall we go express our feelings through a mutual love of violence and explosions?"

    Kell nods, his emotions receding back to the depths, "That sounds good."

    0~0~0

    Waiting until the flow of monsters in and out of the monsterhive broke—as much as something like that can break—the cousins move like ghosts across the landscape. Karter's ka kept their footsteps silent as blue mists swirled about their feet. The few monsters still outside fell like wheat to the scythe of Karter's sword, completely unaware of how close death was.

    Slipping inside the monsterhive was like stepping into a completely alien world. On the outside, the texture of the walls appeared somewhat smooth with the odd wrinkle here and there. The inside, though, was covered in more wrinkles than a sand-strider's knee. The crevices of each wrinkle was filled with a sickly black substance that stunk to hell and back. It wasn't eager to leave them alone, either, as it stuck to their shoes and clothes like a tick on a dog.

    The center of the building is a pit which seems to lead deeper into the earth. Taking a spot at the edge, Karter stands with rifle and saber in hand, ready and waiting for any foolish monster to poke their soon-to-be-lacking heads out.

    Planting the bomb was as easy as tying one's shoes and Kell mastered both at a young age. Taking a single moment to make certain that the fuse—a length of string soaked in Nero's flammable spit—was set, Kell sends a nod Karter's way and receives one in turn.

    In a single bound, Karter closes the gap and, with a snap of the fingers, sets the fuse to spark.

    Kell immediately springs to his feet and sprints towards the exit, only to realize that Karter wasn't with him. Skidding to a halt just beyond the entrance, Kell turns just in time to catch Karter's head turning from the bomb to the hole, and then returning to the bomb once more.

    In a single, elegant kick, Karter's foot greets the bomb and sends it spiraling right down the pit. Pivoting to face Kell, the shit-eating-grin beneath Karter's mask is as obvious as anything ever was.

    The explosion sets the earth to shaking as Karter balances and Kell doesn't. Collapsing against the doorway, Kell stares in abject jealousy as Karter sways in time with the vibrations of the ground, his eyes locked to the fire bursting from the mouth of the hole. Damn cultivators...

    It doesn't take long for the explosion to settle down and for the shaking to stop. A massive plume of smoke spills forth from the pit as it pools against the ceiling, eventually amassing enough to overflow out from the entrances.

    As the smoke clears, Karter waves a hand Kell's way as he fills his chest with air, "Come, Kell, and shall we go and complete the task set before us?"

    Kell snorts, a flicker of humor surfacing in his heart, as he calls an answer, "I think that is a good idea." Now's the chance to tell a joke! "As well as seeing if you can actually overload the spawning pool."

    Karter chuckles and Kell cheers—internally, of course.

    0~0~0

    It looks like a bomb went off in the spawning chamber—presumably because it did. As such, there's not much other than rubble to look at. To be fair, there probably wasn't much else to look at before the bomb went off, either.

    The spawning chamber is a large room with a round ceiling and a deep pit of sludge dug in the middle. Karter stands just off to the side as he focuses on his breathing with Kell a fair ways back. There were a few minor monsters that managed to survive the bomb, but none were in any condition to fight back against Kell and Karter, so it was a simple matter to deal with them.

    Blue mist pools against Karter's cupped hands as he breathes in and out. Over and over again, with ever inhale and exhale, his ka grows ever-stronger, ever-grander. Deep breathes take his ka to greater heights as he takes a single step forward, twists on the spot, and drives his ka-wrapped hand into the sludge.

    Immediately, an eruption of heat explodes from the surface of the pool. The force knocks Karter to the floor as it throws Kell fully off his feet. Just barely righting himself midair, Kell manages to stop himself from slamming against any of the rough-hewed rock walls surrounding the chamber.

    "Did you get it?" Kell asks as he picks himself up. A quick once-over reveals that nothing is amiss, leaving Kell to breathe a sigh of relief as he walks over to where Karter clambers to his own feet.

    Peering over the edge of the steaming pit, Karter nods both to himself and Kell as he shoots him a cloth-wrapped thumbs-up, "I reckon I did, yeah." Karter's voice is rough and raspy, like he'd been using it at length for hours. "You go ahead and look through the loot, I'm gonna," he coughs, wheezing as he sways back and forth on the spot, "I'm gonna go and take a rest, just over here," he mumbles to himself as he stumbles over to where a boulder sits.

    Kell watches Karter go, his brows starting to curve inwards. That was a lot of ka Karter just used, definitely more ka than he should've been able to generate—at least, probably? All Kell really knows on the matter is that if you hold in ka for too long, it turns stagnant, which is supposedly not great for one's longevity.

    Regardless, Kell does as requested and climbs into the pit. Dropping down to the bottom, Kell starts picking over the piles of items sitting on the floor.

    It doesn't take long for Kell to realize that, much to his dismay, most of the remains littering the ground was little more than garbage. Some might go for a few pennies at market, but the vast majority are too damaged from the monsters to be of any value.

    However, after sifting through hundreds of trash pieces, Kell does manage to find four items of actual value. They all seem to be from the same source and are all in surprisingly good condition, especially when compared to the rest of the garbage.

    The first two items are a pair of sunglasses and a multitool bearing the symbol of Melka—a bolt of cloth wrapped around a mask. The sunglasses, though providing no real protection, should help Kell use his salted eyes—once he unlocks his ka, anyhow. The multitool isn't meant for combat, but it should help him with whatever crafting needs he has.

    The third item is a vial of some kind of red dust. It's made of glass and metal, though any inscriptions have long since worn away. A shame, but such is the way of things. Perhaps somebody in Melka might be able to identify it?

    And last, but certainly not least, is the most valuable piece there. A bronze cuirass, forged in a similar manner as Karter's, sits pristine on a pile of garbage. It should provide plenty of protection in battle. The only question is, however, where did it come from? Who was its owner?

    "Kell!" Karter's voice pulls Kell from his thoughts as the older man calls over the edge of the pool, "There's something coming, something big. I'm not sure we can take it, but I'm willing to give it a shot if you are!"

    [ ] Fight the Monster (Extreme Difficulty)
    [ ] Get out of there while you still can (Lesser Arc End)

    (+7 XP to Kell, +4 XP to Karter)
    (+$32)
    0~0~0
    Social DC: 1
    1, 116+10=126, X
    2, 44+26=70, Stop
    Final: 1 Success

    Combat DC: 2
    1, 217+32=249, X
    2, 94+149=243, XX
    3, 91+143=234, XXX
    4, 98+134=232, XXXX
    5, 54+132=186, XXXXX
    6, 80+86=166, XXXXXX
    7, 89+66=155, XXXXXXX
    8, 70+55=125, XXXXXXXX
    9, 93+25=118, XXXXXXXXX
    10, 21+18=39, Stop
    Final: 9 Successes
    Combat DC: 5 (7-2(Ka))
    1, 273+120=393, X
    2, 46+293=339, XX
    3, 100+239=339, XXX
    4, 12+239=251, XXXX
    5, 36+151=187, XXXXX
    6, 70+87=157, XXXXXX
    7, 57+57=114, XXXXXXX
    8, 84+14=98, Stop
    Final: 7 Successes

    Perception DC: 4
    1, 194+20=214, X
    2, 36+114=150, XX
    3, 94+50=144, XXX
    4, 92+44=136, XXXX
    5, 70+36=106, XXXXX
    6, 47+6=53, Stop
    Final: 5 Successes
    0~0~0

    AN: Good job, folks, you did very well. That many successes on your combat roll means that you didn't have to fight any monsters and your bomb did all the work.

    I'll be adding your new items to your sheet shortly

    No moratorium
     
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