what started as a homebrew one-shot will become at least a 2 parter! here are the dramatis personnae in another installment of the wacky dalarium chronicles!

Spoiler: the team
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vincent of whitechapel: corpse artist and philanthropist from great britain, locked in stasis since the 22nd century ad.
boris: spetznaz and beastmaster, part of a special project to increase artificially the intelligence of rats. also from the 22nd century ad.
lazarus: dwarf engineer, pretty old, locked in cold storage from around about the year 6900 ad for blowing up a maternity ward, accidentally.
ricard: tribal warrior. very young, impetuous, locked up for war crimes since around about year 7000 ad.
the beast: a perfect hybrid between a giant rat and a grizzly bear.



dm: so you are all thrown in a room with a variety of close combat weapons inside.
ricard: i pick up a mine bar and try to stay calm.
vincent: now why do you think we'll have to fight it out, my tribal friend?
ricard: call it knowledge 4th wall.

lazarus: spared insanity points by my near-sightedness.

dm: you hit the rat-ogre so hard you dent your mine bar in the shape of its face.

vince: i chop a corpse in two and fling it at the giant rats! *rolls* *fails*
the beast: the beast looks at you quizzically. what the hell was that?

the beast: what do i hear and smell?
dm: you hear the rat ogre whimpering: "not cool dude, that really hurt! oh crap i think he broke my tooth!"
the beast: sweet! that makes me the alpha!

vincent: what kind of lousy test is this?
lazarus: i don't even know what i'm supposed to read!
ricard: pff, it's just a few quadratic equations, it's no big deal.
laz: *blinks*
vince: uh, isn't he supposed to be the dumb muscle?

dm: the guards want you to tame the beast.
boris: what do they think i am, some kind of pied piper? *plays the theremin*

dm: ok, so the beast and boris are trying to assert dominance on the other.
the beast: *growls*
boris: *plays the theremin*
the beast:*forces boris to sit down with a paw then sits down next to him*
boris: yay! i'm the alpha.
the beast: glad to see he's happy that i'm the alpha
laz ooc: this won't end well.

npc: so you see those collars y'all are wearing? yeah, they've got a gps tracker in it, and two modes. shock collar or bomb collar. you don't want to screw with those.
laz: i'm totally gonna screw with those.
ricard: i'll help.

electronic voice: please. elect. team. leader.
ricard: what does a team leader have to do?
laz: basically catch flak for the rest of the team when things go wrong.
ricard: so, just like being front-line in a warzone. i'll do it.
vince: oh good, i didn't want to designate you as a volunteer.

electronic voice: team leader. bring your team to briefing room 2b.
ricard: after the coffee.
electronic voice: now.
ricard: you think i have authority over those people?!

vincent: are we teaching savages how to play tarot?
boris: i guess so.
vincent: pass the whisky.

vince: so the white guards have got this little "pweek-pweek" button attached to their gloves that hand out either shocks or detonations?
dm: yup.
vince: are the guards wearing shock collars too?
dm: yup.
ricard: great, now we need one of those pweek-pweeks to pweek-pweek the guards before they pweek-pweek us!
laz: only in the dalarium can you say that with a straight face, folks!

vince: ricard's gonna die over there, and more importantly me too!
laz: dude, i've got a pea shooter, i can't do anything! boris!
boris: what am i supposed to do?
vince: you're the beastmaster! get the beast over here!
boris: you think i control that thing?!

dm: while your friends are surrounded by explosions, what do you do?
the beast: they're not my friends. i keep eating my kill.
team ooc: BEAST!
the beast: oh, alright. sheesh.

vince: i know! i'll throw a corpse at the guards!
laz: yeah, because it worked so well last time.

ricard: finally! i killed a guard! vince! get to da pweek-pweek!

gypsy mercenary: now, we let you have your freedom, but you give us the stuff from the killed guards.
vince: now, hold on! that's not fair, you didn't even help out in the fight!
ricard: everybody shut up!
everyone: *blinks*
ricard: when i went to sleep, it was during a horrible war where i was fighting an authoritarian society. i saw my friends die. i get locked up in cryo-stasis for a bazillion and a half years. i wake up, some douchecanoe throws me in an arena. i kill things. they make me do math and put a bomb collar on me. they make me dig for ore, and they try to blow me up because "oolala perfect eugenic society" my ass on a piece of ryebread. i've only killed a few. i don't know what the hell is going on, so either help me kill more of those bastards and bring down their society or get out of my way. you helping?
gypsy mercenary: ... *huge smile* i see mister tribal over here knows how to speak gypsy! murder, vengeance and chaos is what we do!

vince: i build a scale replica of the city out of corpses and organs!
ricard: *chewing on a guard's dismembered arm* that's pretty cool, i like how you used kidneys as train wagons.
laz: what kind of sick team did i get thrown into?

boris: the beast is hungry. i go get a corpse.
ricard: i throw the arm i was eating at the beast. it tastes too bland.
dm: how not to bond with your pet 101.

vince: i do a charisma check to look even deader!
team: *marion cotillard imitations*

boris: i summon the rat swarms to attack the guards! *plays the theremin*
dm: it's very... not effective.

the beast: i charge the two guards.
dm: *rolls* you smell fecal matter. lots of it.

team: noooooo, not favorite npc number 3! we liked him!

me: just to be clear, "short-fatso" is now technically a name in this universe.
boris: awesome.

vince: ok, prisoner, you telling us anything or do i have to get my tribal over here to knock some sense into you?
ricard: easy or sautéed with parsley. the choice is yours.

ricard: i waterboard the prisoner in viscera.*snorts* nope, sorry, couldn't say it with a straight face!

dm: you figure out how the buggy works. but the problem is you're too short to reach the pedals or see over the dash.
laz: here comes ingenuity!
*5 minutes later*
laz: pedal stilts and a baby chair! finest dalarian engineering at work!

boris: i try to make the beast understand to get into the buggy.
the beast: nah, i keep eating my corpse.
vince: why don't we tie a corpse to the back of the buggy?
dm: *grins* i like the way you think.

dm: thanks to talking to the rat-human hybrid, the beast's mind is blown. he can now associate two things as a concept!
the beast: cue "mind blown" memes!

ricard: is the beast ok?
the beast: human-rat? wooooooaaaah
boris: probably.
vince: he's drooling.
the beast: human-female? woooooooooaaaaaaaah
laz: great, knowing our luck, that flea-bag will end up the genius of the group.
the beast: tools? human-claws!

vince: so long, short-fatso. good luck to you, here's a gun, and let me get your bomb-collar off.
short-fatso: thanks guys. you're nuts. i'm gonna re-evaluate my life choices now.
boris: you and me both.
short-fatso: hey, laz, why are you sticking around?
laz: have you seen how deadly they are? i'll risk a few insanity points for an increased life-span.