Britbongsteros: Further Storytime

Greetings fa/tg/uys. I've got tonight free so it's story time. I'm going to throw up this first post as an initial hello and to try and inform people that I'll start tale telling properly at 16:30 or so US EST+1 or whatever it is - an hour from now basically.

I know some of you like to follow these live hence the initial early post.

If you've clicked on this thread and have no idea what I'm talking about, start here:
1d4chan.org/wiki/Britbongsteros

Other urls found in this thread:

youtube.com/watch?v=6yP1tcy9a10
youtube.com/watch?v=MBpa_ixoZxM
youtube.com/watch?v=OBN56wL35IQ
youtube.com/watch?v=W2s_cDnS22M&list=PLA728E22E9ACE87A8&index=4
youtube.com/watch?v=-_PNff2c-nk&list=PLfTOlNGJ-WvfydsPHMXqPWmwy_YcKc_SB
youtube.com/watch?v=kjCFyw67TPs
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emission_theory_(vision)]
youtube.com/watch?v=N2bjoUN1jGQ
vocaroo.com/i/s1gtnfQnGr7n
youtube.com/watch?v=3QGMCSCFoKA
youtube.com/watch?v=TiR71VvCYks
youtube.com/watch?v=fNLhxKpfCnA
youtube.com/watch?v=n_yRvxy9HVs
twitter.com/AnonBabble

infuriatingly 20 posts from epic get.

Anyway, - what happened last time?

> you don't need to know any of this to enjoy

>This is a standalone adventure
> We're under the sea
> I'm about to get eaten
> There's a terror from the deep
> It might be French
> On land we have a sort of ally with a lot of dinosaurs.

Begin.

Mein gott I'm early for once. OK let's lay all our toys out on the board here.

Who is everybody?

Angus - An orc from Dundee. Originally a greengrocer but also horrendously proficient with the flamethrower he carries. The flamethrower doubles as a thermic lance.
The bard - A human, wears a kilt, plays the bagpipes. Occasionally has great ideas. The DM uses his own taste in music for what the bard actually plays (so usually classic rock or country & western).
Cruella - Essentially a Dark Eldar wych wearing more clothes. She is vicious and stealthy. Armed with two daggers and a sword that she talks to. Played by Aldous' PC's then (and now again) GF. The latter fact occasionally becomes relevant which is why it is mention it.
The wizard - Not actually magic but can command metal (iron) and summon various sharp or pointy things. Including chainsaws.
The Navvie (also called Burt) - A very large human with a hammer. He hits things with it.

Aldous with Purple Penguin
Aldous - The character of the one telling the story. A dwarven knight. Wears full plate. Carries twin revolvers and a gatling shotgun. Smokes a pipe.
The purple penguin - Moral compass and possible DM PC.


Other characters who are currently relevant:

Dr Ure - creator of bizarre cyborg dinosaurs - called Galvasaurs
The Navvie Thing - our Navvie has been replaced by something. It's not very nice.
The French(?) at least we think they're French creatures which are still eating people.

Musical accompaniment today by '80s hair metal: youtube.com/watch?v=6yP1tcy9a10

I'll repost some of where we were last time to try and get the mood of where we were back.

> a note on this piece of art - it's awesome, don't know where I got it and reverse image search threw up a concerning amount of lola-bunny rule 34 so I'm not going looking. At least until later.

Anyway, We're in an underwater facility in the North Sea that no one has ever heard of. What's it like in the facility? It's warm, unpleasantly so. Hot enough that we're sweating before we are out of our diving suits. Hot enough that it feels like breathing blood. The lighting is red-lit, like a submarine at battle stations. It's built of rusted, damp, dripping steel, covered in pipes and gauges, valves and a billion other things. The whole thing is cast in that red light, making everything crimson or black. It was clearly a significant investment for someone.

Why on earth would the French of all people build this? They're just slutty elves. What the hell is that about? This really isn't their style, nor is it Dr. Ure's - he's just weird, but not this kind of villain lair sort of weird.

By the way if you're wondering about the less normal music, the DM is playing this sort of stuff on his laptop for reason we aren't entirely sure of.

We proceed very slowly. Not being particularly happy about anything down here. Least of all the lack of alarms, bodies, creepy shit or anything else. This place should really have been noticed when it was built, it's huge.

I also can't believe this song hasn't made it in here yet - seems appropriate:

youtube.com/watch?v=MBpa_ixoZxM

So we're used to exploring abandoned facilities and dungeons, this place isn't. It's got no sign of habitation, as in never lived in. There's not even the debris that builders leave around. It's like it fucking grew here and we're the first people to enter it. Angus in theory is the engineer of the party (with some help from the Wizard), but it's Cruella who raps on one of the pipes experimentally.

"What are these things for?" She taps a gauge. "I mean what the fuck is this thing? Come on boys. Explain?"
Five dice hit the table and permutations of

>I roll to explain whatever the fuck that thing is
follow on from the dice, but oddly, none of us can make any heads or tails of it.

It's all connected, almost knitted together as much as interlacing pipework can be, as much as gauges, valves, speaking tubes, and other bumf can be. Some if it's slung across the roof - making the experience of entering the facility seem like walking under low brush, and other pipes and things are set across the walkway, seemingly at ankle height by design because fuck you.

One of the speaking tubes honks. Then a louder honk comes echoing from somewhere up the passage, or maybe under the floor, or outside, or Wales, in this mess we can't fucking tell.

The further in we get, the denser this stuff gets. Stooped, with aching backs in tight confines, half crawling in boiling heat and unpleasant watery damp, the fluid black in the light. We pass under shafts which seemingly extend upward to other floors or god knows where (in theory we could climb up but we're going inward for now). Angus traverses what he thinks is a puddle, putting his hand outward to balance himself in the ankle deep water. Instead he sinks right in. He comes up again almost instantly treading water.

So anything coming at us could come from below, or above, or any direction it feels like.

Cruella has some pretty funkily good hearing, so does Angus, one of them picks up on a noise. So deep it can't really be heard at all, it's more that you're aware of the absence of noise. It's then followed by a more high pitched ping which is right up at the other end of the frequency range. Very shortly afterward, Cruella thinks on both of these frequencies

"If I can hear those, you know that really does mean I can speak Whale?"

The sound is an event regular enough to sound almost mechanical, like an engine, or a heartbeat.

Our slow, painful, soggy pace is becoming even worse now. It's hard to tell where to place your feet and simultaneously watch for low hanging pipe work. Something coils around Angus's leg.

The something comes from the Navvie. Or what we thought was the Navvie. Turns out we didn't get our Navvie back from the octo(thing) when it fucked off. We got something else. Something much worse. With very little ado the party are quite happy to shoot, chainsaw, stab, and uselessly play music at the impostor that was their friend. The amorphous tentacle-y horror slinks into the the mess of pipes and is practically indistinguishable from them in this light, water, and environment.

A (smirking) party member down (the Navvie's PC has something else to occupy him) we try to continue. It's almost impossible to watch every direction, or to even watch each other - any of us could be replaced at any moment...

The Navvie's player seems to relish his task of hunting us. We don't know whether to head into the facility, or out of it, or up, or down, but we've also established we are lost as fuck (no one even thought about a trail of bread crumbs). The Navvie-Thing seems to regenerate as well, it can be seen off by bullets and flame, but it always seems to come back, always from some new angle. Flowing from between the thicket of pipes. Rearing up from a pool of water. Dropping from the ceiling. Always in some new form of amorphous face eating blob. The thing seems to call back to a number of critters we've faced, things from the Isle of Mann, Coliunn, Witches, Cthulhu's Dad. Not mimicking them, but enough that there's similarity. It also just will not die.

Whichever direction we take, the path seems to shift, to twist, and definitely not to make sense. The Wizard can sort of machete his was through the pipes but it takes quite a lot of time. What really doesn't help is that I get separated.

The pipes aren't a solid mass like the bulkheads around us (though pretty bloody close). They are however solid enough to block sight almost entirely after three or four feet. The party can still hear me, they can't see me. The Wizard picks what he thinks is the best direction and starts bending. Meanwhile, alone, in the light of my torch I watch the darkness for movement. Trying to watch every degree of the compass at once with my back to the pipes. The Navvie-thing can worm its way through the pipes as it's pretty much an amorphous blob of bits (think the way an octopus can fit into and then pop out of a jam jar). The gatling shotgun has drum magazines that hold 128 rounds, at best that's sixteen seconds of sustained fire. That might seem like a lot but it takes a while to reload, and if the thing that was the Navvie...

....just happens to be crawling along the ceiling....

>brrt
....drops from the ceiling....

>brrt
...starts to gather itself to charge...

>brrt
...manages to walk into the hail of shot as I walk fire onto it...

>brrrrrrrrrrrrt
....keeps fucking coming....

>brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt
...and coming....

>brrrrrrrrrrrrrrt
....losing tentacles and chunks of flesh and bone....

>brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt
....but keeps coming.....

>brclick.
...Fuck.

yknow I do like a good cliffhanger.

> So that brings us up to speed.

I'm trying my fumbling best to reload, the spent drum falls between my boots. I realise I'm not going to make it in time (ask /k/ about the 21ft thing sometime) the wizard spangs a glancing blow with an iron bar off the thing slowing it a little.

Angus, beautiful bastard that he is has a bright idea.

>Hit the deck.

I have just enough time (nearly) to hit the deck as the muzzle of his flamethower is shoved between the pipes and a spear of napalm shoots between my shoulder blades. The Not-Navvie recoils, hisses and starts to melt...not the good kind of on fire melting, the "I'm going to run along the ground under the jet of flame kind and shoot tentacles at the dwarf whose beard is on fire."

>There now follows a science argument - given that we are at a pressure of above one atmosphere, would flamethrowers work like they do? Also what happens to any bullets that hit the hull?

>DM: Assume that the hull is bullet proof - though let's add some ricochets in for fun? Flamethrowers? Hmm... reduced range? Oh Aldous you're still on fire.

> We love you too DM.

So while I'm beating out flames (My beard!!) Angus continues playing fire over my head. The wizard is able to slowly clear an actual path to me - one which Cruella then the bard (as the skinniest party members) are able to worm through.

The not-Navvie thing decides to retreat as I'm reinforced, schlopring off into a duct with a horribly soggy noise.

In the distance can be heard sounds of distant honking...and swearing.

Deciding that swearing can mean one thing and one thing only - also there's no way to replicate that vocabulary (so many variations on "cunt" - fanny, meat curtains, dribbling pleasure slit, wee bit o' touch, badger's pouch, gaping axe wound, money syphon, bearded clunge, furry kebab, baby cannon, cock-warmer, Deoxyribonucleic acid depository, meat saloon, your uncle's pot pie, fuck-trap, sausage pie, raw steak flange, trembling love cave, happy seal, rabid cock hamster, minge.) so we make for the sound.

We remain extremely worried about the Navviething, but aside from the flickering tentacle thing from a vent or creepy noise it seems to have decided to go a bit quiet.

Sounds of displeasure however remain the same, the environs do not. There are now windows - windows that look out on green fields or mediteranean beaches, a world that doesn't seem at all like ours, if you look long enough you can see peculiar things - no violence, seemingly peaceful people staring at little shiny pebbles or sitting in front of bigger ones. The people all seem very sleepy and especially fat. Weirdly the windows don't cast light into the facility but seem more like moving pictures? I can't describe it like the DM did but in the red-light of where we are we are definitely below the sea level still, but the scenes outside make no sense, nor do they seem any less real for it.

The bard reports that this does not seem at all natural and that we must be in a highly magical area. The wizard reports that he's speaking shite and he can't feel anything.

Twisting down more and more corridors - all still damp and dark, and where there are no "windows" covered in those pipes and other peculiarities, and worryingly the odd slither of biological looking goo, we make for the sound. The place has a million different echoes and twists and not even Angus and Cruella are entirely sure we're going the right way. Especially not when that long biological youtube.com/watch?v=OBN56wL35IQ comes back

We stop by one window. This if anything seems actually to be "real" it's slowly dribbling water and outside we can see Bathys and other...things, they seem to be fighting - fighting what? If we had to guess, mad Dr Ure upstairs has gotten bored and has decided to quite literally unleash the kraken.

(I mean they're fighting electric dinosaurs, which is fucking awesome) youtube.com/watch?v=W2s_cDnS22M&list=PLA728E22E9ACE87A8&index=4

Shortly thereafter the swearing - and he still hasn't repeated himself (love canoe, soggy hammock, sausage roll, etc etc etc) leads us to a bulkhead.

From somewhere in the facility a long, low groaning quake rocks the place, as though the whole thing had been kicked. The water trickling from the ceiling takes on a far more urgent timbre.

After a minute or two we get the door open to find the Navvie, or at least...sort of.

The first thing we find is that fucking octopus. Someone has beaten the hell out the poor thing and it shies into a corner when it sees us. Then we find shredded bits of diving suit.

Then we find a lot of what seem like human remains. A lot of human remains.

The penguin's 6th sense is very definitely pinging.

Inside a bathyscape, with the hatches all dogged shut and voice coming out over the external speakers, is the Navvie.

He catches sight of us.

The swearing stops.

"It's still out there you mad bastards! Hide!"

He looks terrified.

The room is composed of a large moon pool with a number of cranes above it - and lots of empty spaces like you might use to pick up and lower bathys into the water.

There's a wet schlorp as something familiar falls from the ceiling above us, a disgustingly familiar noise. The Navviething splats into a pile of human remains and as it starts simultaneously chowing down and waving tentacle things at us our Navvie is frantically undogging hatches. The party however are pretty happy - fighting this thing in an open space - with very little room for it to run? Easy.

>Easy.

It's never easy. Never. You'd think we'd have all learnt this by now. Wouldn't you?

I mean really. It almost seems like we should expect all those bodies to start moving about on their own a bit, being absorbed as biomass into the Navvie thing. We should totally expect that they'd sprout tentacles and other unpleasant bits. We're not even surprised to see what looks like Dr Ure's face and some dinosaur bits in there. We are in formation, locked and loaded. It's time for a good, honest, balls to the wall fight. Let's trash these fucking things.

As the bard announces "I am going to play something inspiring" youtube.com/watch?v=-_PNff2c-nk&list=PLfTOlNGJ-WvfydsPHMXqPWmwy_YcKc_SB

The waters of the moon pool ripple. As though someone had thrown a pebble into them.

>Dats no moon.jpg

The waters vomit out a pretty sizeable Clown-Leech. The things not even slightly wet. It never occurred to us the waters were another mirror like we'd seen earlier, something with a view to someplace else. (I'm not articulating this well but issa portal).

>What's a clown leech Aldous?

It's an old old friend from a long time ago, they're not very nice they look a bit like pic related + some more pics that'll follow...

Ok so they look nothing like /k/ ignore that.

They look like this +

...

Along with however this pic makes you feel.
We also note that there are distinct signs of galvanisation to this thing


Anyway, the party broke to get more beer at this point.

It's handy to recap our speculation on what's going on. There's been notably little exposition and we've been slowly puzzling this out for ourselves. In order to insulate against my deficient story-telling here we go

There's Dr Ure on-shore (we think). There's whatever resides in this facility. They don't like each other. We also don't approve at all of the use of Clown-Leeches. On general principles whatever has been nicking villagers needs to die. Dr Ure as a mostly respectable agent of the crown seems to be up to things he shouldn't but he's also been trying to protect the area. Whatever the portal things are about, well fuck that. It seems this facility is French (and entirely covert - meaning there's something on the seabed they wanted and didn't want to tell us about) and something we think, must've come through from the other side.

>Is Dr Ure Evil? Well maybe? What the fuck he's doing galvanising clown-leeches though...

Ok so this all makes sense for anyone following along at home? (I know we're in a slightly weird place with this thread and there's been a lot of callouts to things) I'm rather conscious there's been a lot of combat (it was a combat heavy story) and not so much delicious background, fortunately that changes after this punch up anyway.

I'm going to grab a snack and continue in a minute.

More to the point is anyone following along at home? If not, that's fine I'll keep going anyway once I finish mucking about.

Yeah, I am

Welcome aboard.

We continue. Mucking about complete.

youtube.com/watch?v=kjCFyw67TPs

By god, Queene and bacon butties, we are not fucking having this.

We've reached maximum weird saturation.

Portals, clown leeches, the fucking thing, and fuck knows what else.

The penguin has entirely had enough.

The clown-leech is at least as big as one we fucked up in Paris, and the Navviething is getting bigger by the second. We are not having this.

The Navvie pops out of the Bathy (I like how that rhymes) just as the Leech goes past and gets on the things back. Cruella has, once again, ended up in front of the thing. While the Navvie beats it about the head, it opens it's great big maw and sights in on her.

>Not this time. We're not entirely sure how she manages this but she sort of zigs and zags across the things exposed throat and underbelly. It does the kill bill splitting thing, and much to her total disgust splats green goo over her from head to foot. Again.

Meanwhile the Navviething having absorbed a whole lot of corpses is ranting and warbling to itself in English and French, for the bi-lingual among the party (Cruella and me) (Angus does claim to speak sheep) it can be heard saying something about the portal, something about the other side, and something about going beyond the world of man. Something inarticulate about a horror that even the Elder Gods speak in whispers.

While we're in the process of blowing bits off it and generally slaughtering it, a new word can be heard, one which becomes more and more pronounced, clearer and clear until it's a chant, a chant from a hundred, maybe a thousand absorbed souls.

>Pendragon.

>Motherfucker.

>But Aldous how does all this fit into the big plot and...Think of it like an expansion pack.

While the fight with the roiling mass of the Navviething is bloody it isn't all that exciting.

What is is that with further exploration of the facility once the Navviething is (we hope) dead, we manage to piece together a bit of a story here.

I have no idea where the original short notes have gone (I did have them in an email someplace but the three main ones can be paraphrased as follows).

>In the 14th Year of The Croissant (France has a different calendar in Britbongsteros because fuck being normal) Monsier De Talleyrand De Baguette reported on a formation known as le Triangle des Bermudes. Further research by Monsieur de Mouton indicates that with appropriate study we might be able to summon and control a creature of great import to our neighbours across the channel. We have identified a site in the la mer du nord which has all of the auspicious ley lines drawing together in one spot. It will be difficult to construct the facility in secret but at great expense Monsieur de Mouton and M'me Curie-CharB1 anticipate that the project can be completed in less than half a decade.
>In the 12th year of the Bonbon, Tuesday. On this day Monsieur De Mouton is not present in the facility, he presents his work on a new system of controlling and binding the occult within our world. He theorizes that by reinterpreting how man sees the world, man can himself much as his eyes emit light into the world, rebrand the world in the image such as he sees fit. [PEOPLE BELIEVED THIS en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emission_theory_(vision)] Therefore if man sees the world in a different fashion, a new, structured fashion, then he creates the epistemological framework of his world. One man cannot bend the entire physical world to his will, but what he can do is recallibrate it. Instead of seeing things in terms of "inches" and "feet" outdated measures based upon..

...the crude physicality of the body, by creating a new measure, a new METRIC, then this system allows for the imposition of science upon the world. If MM Mouton is successful, it will, he feels, give him the power to remake the world around him, by redefining it, he can remake it.

[God I hope this makes sense, my philosophy is piss poor after about 1640]

>In the 57 year of the Voulevont, 2nd Friday after the 124th degree of the Cochon. Success! MM Mouton and M'me Curie-CharB1 have successfully breached the measures binding the world, the subtle genius of France has done what the Rosbif never could. We have created a portal to the other side. Without blood sacrifice like the Irish, without the crudity of the barbarians who do not use our new glorious metric. Vive Le France! However time it is noted is flowing differently, for us five years have passed, for France, but week. MM and M'me theorize that the portal we found - identical to our own creation on the other side is a matter of simultaneous construction - what we build here simultaneously is constructed there. They are building another edifice on the other side. It is theorized that there might also be some sort of mirroring of mind on the other side.


>Date unknown it is harder to keep this journal now as I grow older, I do not know how much time has passed since my last entry but I do know that I might be the last man alive, we have lived with the strangeness of the portal now for at least three decades and no one is untouched. MM Mouton has managed to hold the portal and through it, our minds as well, but our bodies have grown so ancient but also so changed, now we flow and twist like the structure of the facility, we are no longer human, simultaneously greater and worse than human, like the first days of the great republic. I do not know what we are now or what we will become if MM Mouton fails. There is a word on the lips of all now,

>Pendragon

>Do you know what ...

...know what it is to look upon the face of god day and night and know that he studies you as intently as you did his realm? The abyss has looked back, and the abyss came back with us.

We know that on the surface the effects of our research have been felt, ships lost and perhaps twisted by the void. We know also that Dr Ure has been oh so curious and we think might suspect...
In any event, biological material grows scarce, piscine material will not do states the beating voice that roars in my ears, it must be human, perhaps we must be fishers from the sea...

That's the last of our fluff exposition for now.

TLDR - IT WAS METRIC ALL ALONG

>RANDOM SCIENCE TIME!

The effect of a high pressure environment on a flamethrower would depend on the atmosphere. Unless you were in a Nitrox or Heilox charged bathysphere thing, and nothing else around you was flammable, the fuel would burn faster and hotter than at sea level. Higher pressure = more O2/m3 = faster fuel consumption. This is why fire on a submerged submarine is a very bad thing. Normally there would be the added hazard of setting paint alight as well but given how damp it sounds like the area was you have more of a risk from O2 depletion and toxic gasses than secondary fires in said situation.

youtube.com/watch?v=N2bjoUN1jGQ about sums up my feelings on this in video form

As stated, I find this really rather cool. So in effect super-powered flamethrower - it's probably a good thing we didn't know this at the time.

So the party have a little chat about new developments - having found the documents and some other epherma as described above, we now actually have a fair idea what's going on. It seems whatever is coming through the portal (whichever portal that is) is really rather a bad thing, so our first objective is nuke the fuck out of that portal, and preferably everything else down here. We also are extremely concerned by the clown-leeches having something to do with Dr Ure, it seems the cult that has something to do with them may have infiltrated the French facility then he got his hands on some. How he got a handle on the portal technology is something we don't know. It looks however like we may have to have a chat with him after this is over. Given that the facility seems pretty empty at the moment we are in an ideal position to search but those Bathys which we saw leaving earlier are likely to be coming back sooner than later.

Our plan is as follows:

1. Find the big portal, the one that leads to god knows where and shut it from the other side - by leaving a large pile of explosives and legging it back to our world.

2. Find the generator (a place like this must have a really big one) and blow that up - then make for the surface and fuck up Dr Ure's shit.

What we don't know is what the other portals might do when we blow this place to bits, some of them (the TV type things) might just be a one way connection, others (like the big moon pool) might be doing something else.

Also we really don't like the sound of M'me CharB1 for some weird reason.

Right anons, last spurt of postan commencing in a minute then time for bed.

One more quick thing.

>SCIENCE TIME CONTINUES!

This past spring I build a wind tunnel and Mythbuster'd the "what happens when you shoot a flamethrower from a moving vehicle" conundrum from waaaay back. I confirmed that with anything less than a stupidly high pressure projector squirting a very viscous fluid firing forward is a good way to set yourself and your vehicle on fire.

Don't have a wind tunnel and want to double check my findings? Wait for a blustery day and, using a sports bottle, squirting a stream of water into the wind and observe the way the water driers mushroom out and splatter. Now run forward while doing it. Now imagine it's on fire.

>built a wind tunnel
>drops of water

Why auto correct, why?

Onwards!

Its around this point that Angus decides that he's going to have a bright idea. This takes a while, he has to get a bit of a run up, but once his stride and is powering toward the cognitive leap that will cause neurons to fire and...

Meanwhile the bard sticks his head into the moon pool to see what happens,

Very little actually. Apparently there's a view of Slains castle. That actually doesn't surprise us much. Nor do the Galvasaurs he can see roaming around. We are pretty happy this portal, by accident or design leads ashore.

Other smaller portals are investigated leading to revelations about a planet made entirely of rabbits - we are fairly sure either Cruella or Angus attempted to adopt one as one was seen later, another world where a community of tiny colourful horses appeared to be in the process of being hunted down and butchered by a unit of automatons, all with a large double headed eagle on their chests, other highlights included that zombie world where a suspiciously familiar group of people were drinking around a table and throwing dice at each other, Cruella deciding that whoever the girl is she clearly needs more attractive friends, another portal lead to a world which was almost entirely dark save for a creepy child singing - so we legged it, and penultimately a world where there was a cube made of weapons and someone yelled "Get out of here Stalker" so we didn't stick around,

I want to give you more science questions but am also afraid to. I guess its all for learning though so technically is for a good cause. Kinda...

...

Are you...did we somehow meme Angus into reality?
(Honestly though I'm actually rather impressed, you science well)

Meanwhile Angus is still baking his bright idea and has decided he won't turn it halfway and will totally ignore the instructions re letting it stand, so he will burn his tongue instead,

>what if we didn't have to blow up all of the portals? I mean how cool is this research, think what we could do with it...

We are mulling this over when shortly afterward we find the world of the clown-leech, which is as hellish as you might imagine, a bright sunny place where clown leeches of various sizes frolic through leafy trees and meadows eviscerating things whole as they go. We also re,mind him that the actual Thing fell out of one of these, if anyone should be building these things it should be...err...well not us...or the Privy Council... Definitely not the French....also they're leyline dependant so...fuck it poets take off and nuke the site from orbit.

Now its gone eleven bongs its time to sleep but I hope you've all had fun, there's not too much left of this one, though if the thread is still around tomorrow (I'll make another if it isn't) I've a new project to share details on.

Goodnight anons

Hey, I just found the thread. Reading now.

Oh, goodnight then.

I feel like this might be appreciated here.

vocaroo.com/i/s1gtnfQnGr7n

So basically they used evil measurements to tear holes in the fabric of space and time to summon things that now need to be killed.

America in this setting must have a dammed good reason for hating the metric system.

Thanks man! Setting things on fire/blowing things up in the name of SCIENCE has long been a favorite pass time of mine. I can't say for sure if I'm related in any metaphysical sense to Angus, there'd have to be some grade A time shenanigans for that to be the case.

Then again, anything is possible with Portals.

SCIENCE! I can't believe you actually did that.

Does shooting a flamethrower out of the back of moving vehicle make it move any faster? I'd imagine not.

If your using napalm/other viscous liquid, no. If your using a straight compressed liquid the answer ranges from "no at low speed" to "the air vortex at the back of the vehicle means you just set yourself on fire. Again" at medium to high speed.

So shoot it out the back or side of the vehicle so only part of the vehicle gets lit on fire instead of the whole thing.

Got it.

Looks like it's currently about a 4 hour wait from part 1 to the bottom of page 11, so I'll give it a bump before bed now and hope for the best.

>a new project to share details on.
[intrigued-ness intensifies]

>A new project

Ready and waiting.

Would bump with a penguin but I'm on my phone, so penguinless bump.

A new project, you say?

Verily. I have been considering (along with a the comic) a fantasy novel in Britbongsteros 1960s-80s.

Psychedelic drugs in Britbongsteros?

Magic drugs are probably much more hardcore.

Bumping.

It seems more like a Half-Life situation than a Portals situation.

Bumping.
I want to keep this thread alive till morning. For reasons.

This is awesome, bump.

I also have reasons for wanting this thread to stay up.

I am curious about all these reasons.

Also postan in around two to three hours from this post.

My reason is I don't want to hunt for another thread if this one dies.

And my reason will hopefully be apparent in less than twelve hours.

Wait a minute, is that you drawfag?

My curiousity is piqued. As long as it's not a terrorist attack I'm happy.

>Wait a minute, is that you drawfag?
Indeed.
Here's a cryptic clue to chew on.
"TiaSOGwaF."
"YAiI."

I remain an incorrigible faggot. I'm delayed. Will update with posting likelihood.

No worries Aldous. We'll all be waiting here.

Patiently.

OK seriously, balls to this place, I cannot wait for home, anyway, more storires?

I'll fix all these typos in post when updating the 1d4chan page.

Whenever you're read to lay the rest of it on us.

Fire away.

I'll give this a bump before bed and hopefully others will sustain it until the story telling begins again.

>"TiaSOGwaF."
>"YAiI."

mfw Veeky Forums stalls in the tiny window I have to post the image.

I approve.

Morning bump.

OK so it seems I can't spell after a 14 hour work day. Anyway I should be out at a sane time today and we can do a comfy posting session this evening.

Our first meme!

Well, image wise anyway.

Afternoon bump.

Night bump from the euros.

We have had more?

Posting tonight around 21:00 until bed - that's around 2 hours from now.

Antici-

-pation.

Hello everybody. Let's fucking do this.

youtube.com/watch?v=3QGMCSCFoKA

>engage comfy.

So, it appears that the world of Britbongsteros also has multiple dimensions, but we actually already knew this (Ireland for one) what we didn't know was that the Clown-Leeches came from one. We theorise that the ones encountered in Paris were summoned at some point by the cult. In any event, fuck those things.

Eventually we discover the portal we are looking for, or at least we assume so. It's big enough that you could drive a tank into it, it also looks rather like a Stargate so fuck it, we SG-1 now.

The other portals we've discovered have been much smaller -aside from the moon pool and that has something to do with Dr Ure, that weird bastard. We all secretly suspect Duncan might also be secretly involved but we aren't entirely sure how.

>Who's Duncan? A big fish.

youtube.com/watch?v=TiR71VvCYks

In we go. To the land of the gods.

It's a shithole.

The place is a desolate, sandy wasteland. The wind howls in the semi-darkness. Shapes of what might be huts or human construction surround the portal.

We look up at the night sky.

Good lord. That's not a sight for pre-watershed times.

There are a whole lot of Gods but it turns out one of them looks like Chris Evans. The rest is a scene from Hieronymous Bosch. Things cavort with one another in the inky void. We surmise we might even be on the body of another God. We are lilliputians in this land and have no idea what the rules are. We are hopefully too small to be noticed. The living tapestry of the sky dances on to the tune of an orchestra we can't comprehend. An enormous fish looking thing swims into the side of Chris Evan's head and explodes out the other side in a shower of custard while he cackles.

The Navvie takes in the true cosmic insanity of this world and rubs his stubbled chin.

>Bugger this lads.

We couldn't agree more.

Well most of us, the Bard however is intently searching the sky for Babi.
>Who's...
>An old friend.

He's the first one to spot something.

Duncan on a cosmic scale is quietly floating past in space, he's munching on a planetoid.

Elsewhere a bowl of petunias and a whale fight, written on the side of the bowl are the words "oh no not again."

We decide that enough is enough and start laying charges around the gate, the wizard and Cruella making holes (with summoned chisel and dagger respectively) which we stuff with TNT and anything else the Navvie has in what he called his "Party Bag" which on a random and pointless aside looked like pic related - he was weirdly specific about this to the extent of having mentioned in autistic detail back in character creation.
No I don't know why either.

This all takes time, we want to make sure this thing is utterly and completely fucked.

We also are a little curious, it's not like the DM to have us go somewhere this interesting and not have something try to kill us.

We try not to broadcast this to him however.

Unfortunately he was onto something already.

[in atrocious french accent - I mean 'Allo 'Allo bad]

>Oooo hare yeuu?

We look around for the source of the voice. There's nothing to be seen.

That doesn't fill us with confidence.

>Wuit hair yuuuu doeng?

(What are you doing?)

The voice seems to be coming from all around us.
(Who are you)

Bugger this indeed.

I may have fucked my formatting a little bit there but I guess it's easy enough to figure out.

The CharB1 is not all that intimidating as tanks go, it's a bit funny looking really when you think about it. Mostly it looks like something from metal slug, or an angry potato.

The thing seems to be blind, her occular units are heavily damaged. She can certainly hear us though.

She doesn't seem to be too threatening, despite the tentacles which seem to be a sign of having spent too much time near one of these portals (as with all the other French people). These tentacles lash from in and around what would be hatches.

>What is she?

We don't know. She might have been human once but if that's Curie-CharB1 then we know following a whole lot of standing next to science experiments the woman was horribly mutilated. It seems she must've built or had built for her this device - which coincidentally is a tank.

[still in terrible french accent - why she's speaking English we don't know- surely she'd be speaking French]

>Please
>Help me
>I know I can't go back
>I came here to watch the dance of the spheres, the beauty of the realm of the gods, but I am blind. Can you imagine what it is to sit beneath the greatest sights the universe will ever know, and be nearly blind? I can hear the music but I cannot watch.

>Can you fix me? Or if you can't, kill me.

Yeah. No.

We know time is doing weird things around these portals, she might've been here for days or centuries. Alone and nearly blind.

We take sympathy on her. Angus and the Wizard take a look at those ocular units. The bard and Cruella try to explain pic related to her - much harder than you'd think.

The Navvie and I decide the only appropriate thing to do in the realm of chaos is to get drunk.

Above us a giant crocodile builds a pyre for a snowman made of vaseline while a dozen weeping ducks and other waterfowl look on.

youtube.com/watch?v=fNLhxKpfCnA

sodding thing ate my post.

Anyway, the Navvie and Wizard reckon it'll take them maybe 20 minutes. That's 20 minutes of sitting here looking up at all that weird.

Things go reasonably well at first but there are shapes that can be seen out there in the sand. This might be considered bad.

This is confirmed as bad shortly afterwards.

A very large, very familiar looking fish seems to have noticed us, or at least he's circling closer towards us, it will take him a while to get here though.

>Hello Duncan.

Meanwhile whatever those shapes are, there's a whole lot of them.

If they come for us, we're going to have an interesting fight on our hands.

If they come for us, we're going to have to kill all of them and then either fix Marie and get eaten by Duncan, or just bail. We're blowing the gate anyway, fuck her.

We actually feel pretty bad about that last option though. The Penguin certainly wouldn't be happy.

Well we could just...

The DM decides to speed up our deliberations, whatever those many, many things out there are, they're getting closer.

We'll need at least ten minutes of further repair but at least the charges are laid.

>What the hell are those?

Frogs? Snakes?

Whatever they are they're man sized and sure do have a lot of teeth. There's also fucking hundreds of them.

They decide that if they're going to eat us, they'd better do it sharpish.

The swarm as they come closer seem to be made of what looks like brass? We can't be sure, whatever the hell they are they're not nice.

We open fire/start thumping them.

We're two men down (fixing things) and we are slowly being driven back. Angus lets the Navvie borrow his flamethrower (most excellent for crowd control), it's still not enough though.

Right last post or two before sleep.

So we're swarmed. I mean really swarmed. They're getting closer and closer, a mass of slithering chomping biting bodies.

>Why can't Marie go back through the gate?
She'll die. I should have said this earlier - I didn't, my bad, she's been subject to enough time fuckery and weird that her mind will just melt on returning to the normal world - it also seems like whatever Monsieur Mouton was doing still works on this side, but won't on the other - so even if she lives she'll go killcrazy.

One of the swarm manages to bite down on Cruella's leg. Teeth lodging into the leather of her boot and beyond, blood soaking into the sand. Another couple are gnawing on the Navvie shortly afterward.

Angus calls it.
>Marines, we are leaving.

The wizard however has one last try.
>Imma gonna just hit with ma hammer and hope for the best.

>Rolls a 20

>I can see!

Right anons, time for sleep. Goodnight every body. Further entertainment tomorrow.

youtube.com/watch?v=n_yRvxy9HVs

Damn, how often did you guys EVER roll a nat 20 in this setting?

Night, I'll try to keep the thread bumped until I also go to bed.

We often suspected that the DM had loaded dice.

We are happier not knowing the truth of this.

Hey Aldous, what did think of my memery?

Bumping before bed.

The I-have-not-slept bump

Another morning bump.

"Britbongsteros is an anagram for Sot robbing rest." bump.