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I got my least favourite Battle Brother immediately mutilated and I feel great about it
It was always going to end badly for Thillmann The Braggart. 30 gold, he told the brigands. He'd pay them 30 gold each if they could knock up a stew so disgusting that even he - Kobmanhaven's most famous glutton - couldn't keep it down. Whether Thillmann actually had the coin on him, they never found out. Seconds after he raised the first reeking spoon of what he suspected was mostly reindeer shit to his lips, he projectile vomited straight in the face of their leader, and they jumped him. Death comes quickly in the turn-based tactics and open-world merc work of Battle Brothers, and victory comes hard. Really, it's the stories of the mercs you hire, and their emergent traits and peccadilloes, that make the game what it is. Still, Thillman was possessed of the sort of cocksure spirit that makes a man far less cognisant of sharp objects than he should be, although you couldn't fault his reasoning: he was still alive, so as far as fate had proven to him up until now, nothing could kill him. I can only apologise for adding to the bastard's delusions. The boys and I happened to be passing by at just the right time to save him from those brigands, and he's been with us ever since. Read more
It was always going to end badly for Thillmann The Braggart. 30 gold, he told the brigands. He'd pay them 30 gold each if they could knock up a stew so disgusting that even he - Kobmanhaven's most famous glutton - couldn't keep it down. Whether Thillmann actually had the coin on him, they never found out. Seconds after he raised the first reeking spoon of what he suspected was mostly reindeer shit to his lips, he projectile vomited straight in the face of their leader, and they jumped him.
Death comes quickly in the turn-based tactics and open-world merc work of Battle Brothers, and victory comes hard. Really, it's the stories of the mercs you hire, and their emergent traits and peccadilloes, that make the game what it is. Still, Thillman was possessed of the sort of cocksure spirit that makes a man far less cognisant of sharp objects than he should be, although you couldn't fault his reasoning: he was still alive, so as far as fate had proven to him up until now, nothing could kill him. I can only apologise for adding to the bastard's delusions. The boys and I happened to be passing by at just the right time to save him from those brigands, and he's been with us ever since.
