SMBC Comics Forum

This thread will be where people will take official action, and where the narrative will be held. Please don't post anything here that isn't an in-game action. Questions, team planning, etc. will all have their own threads. That means the next person to post in this thread should be me starting the official quest. I will sticky this and a few other threads once zach gets off his lazy ass and makes me a moderator

If anybody would like to purchase health potions (sorry lethal, but health potions don't work on robits), you may do so for 15 dublooneans per potion. Each potion comes in its own spill and break resistant vial. Now with your favorite Marvel super heroes on the side! Satisfaction is guaranteed on these fine items. Sure to restore 1D4 hit points or your money back! Sorry, cash only. No credit cards, checks, or CODs. Not applicable with food stamps.

To purchase health potions, reply here with the quantity desired. I will be keeping track of your vitals, but you should too. Make sure to subtract money, HP, etc. when you gain and lose it... It would be very embarrassing later on if you were struck for 3 damage and had only 2 to give when you thought you had 6.

Mr Snuffleupagus purchases 2 health potions and places them in his backpack.

Cog is miserly chap, he attempts to haggle the price down.
Not sure how to roll this so i'll just put down my +1 to negotiations here.

Unless the price goes up, he will buy 1

Let the official quest begin!

Fourteen of the most pathetic looking bounty hunters, rogues, and mercenaries in the Kingdom stand in a line facing west. A light drizzle mats their hair (those that have it) as they receive the call from Patrician Helmut Kleinhaber. His voice echoes clearly across the cold, miserable morning,

Kleinhaber wrote:… and so you all have been called here to address a matter most grave. An item of great importance has been stolen from us. An item that you must seek out and return.

The original Standard of the Lancer was en route to the keep here in Buellen from Calava when it was intercepted. The Standard was well guarded, and so we assume that this was not the work of typical highwaymen, but by a highly organized group of traitors. The Standard of the Lancer holds no practical value, but is of high sentiment to the people of the Kingdom.

Having worked with selfish types such as yourselves before, I feel it is necessary to help foster teamwork between you all. Therefore, you shall be split into two groups to be decided on by yourselves. Whichever group brings back the Standard shall receive double the bounty promised. The other team should not bother returning. Sergeant Wang will provide you with all of the intelligence we have once you have picked teams.

Kleinhaber and the Sergeant turn away from the motley bunch and whisper to each other

Kleinhaber wrote:This was the best you could find? One of them isn’t even a meter tall and half of them are dressed like they came straight here from a Renaissance Fair

Wang wrote:Forgiv-a-ness sir. They are the only ones left.

Kleinhaber wrote:Then Moloch save us all.

The gaggle of rogues begins to look each other over; sizing up their potential teammates and rivals when one of them speaks up. It is Bromhilde, a large man with ape-like features and large, protruding lower canines, and the only mercenary there of any reputation.

Bromhilde wrote:This is how it be, runts. Qang, Tal, and me don’t share with nobody. You do what you want, but we’re bringing back that flag.

Bromhilde, and two of the others there turn, and head off towards Sergeant Wang.

After a few seconds of silence, a young boy, no more than 16 years old, speaks up. He is tall – easily over two meters with short blonde hair, and skinny arms which seem to hold immense strength despite their size.

Yuni wrote:Well, I must say, I like our odds. Eleven against three should surely be in our favor, although I can’t say I find splitting the bounty eleven ways very appealing. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Yuni from the Village of the Flowing Flame and I am what my people call a Forge.

The characters are now able to introduce themselves and talk freely. When you are ready you may talk to Sergeant Wang to receive the information he has for you.

Within some crowds, in different wheres and different whens, there can be seen, if one knows for what one is looking and how to look for it, a gap, an empty space, an unoccupied area, a place, in short, where no one's head is bobbing along. In these crowds, some people become poorer, some more injured, some simply unnerved and creeped out. If one were to pay attention to where this gap travels within the crowd, one could accurately trace a path that consisted of these different wronged individuals. However, no one looked, no one paid any attention, no one made any attempt to predict who would become, in some way or another, less themselves than previously. No one tried. No one knew.

So, it was with this relative anonymity that Bubbles Flowerwing, Lawn Ornament/Pink Flamingo Tamer/Bastard extraordinaire, made his way through life. He realized early on that he wasn't much good as a lawn gnome, and so left the grassy fronts in search of ways to fill his time, and so, when he heard the desperate voice of the town crier/stock ticker, he mounted his pink flamingo and rode here, only to stand in a line and be bored. He stroked his pink flamingo and did his best not to let anyone make a sexual innuendo out of it.

He wasn't particularly impressed by any of the people on either side of him, not that he could see anyone other than those immediately next to him. Where, he wondered, did anyone get the idea to be tall? He then reflected, again, that he was an animated lawn ornament, and that it wasn't their fault that they were tall, but instead that he was short. Where did anyone get the idea that they wanted their hired gardening help to be as diminutive and miniscule as possible? he questioned, possibly to better effect.

Unimpressed as he was with everyone, he was rather disappointed when the only person who seemed to know what he was doing announced that anyone whose name he didn't personally know could feck off. Bubbles did his best to stare this Bromhilde down with his creepiest gaze, but Bromhilde didn't seem to have enough presence of mind to look down, and instead just strode off. Bubbles threw a rock at his shoe. Attached to this rock was the curse that only a lawn ornament could give.

"May all your landscaping efforts depress you utterly!"

One of the feck-off-ers turned to the rest of them and introduced himself. Bubbles stared at him, too, though less creepily, since he seemed well intentioned and less stupid than Bromhilde.

Bubbles wanted to kick everyone's shins, just for good measure. Instead, he stroked his pink flamingo.

Aloud, he said, staring up at his apparent companions, "I'm Bubbles. What the hell is a standard?"

Are we starting?
Also, are we allowing narration? I know some people like to narrate to get into character, but were we actually people traveling together, I wouldn't need him to constantly let me know of his backstory.

Looks like we are. Snazz, this is for you.

I purchase one potion for 15 dubloons.

I nod and introduce myself as Seraphin.

Hello, Bubbles. I didn't see you there. A standard is another name for a flag to denote a particular affiliation, like 'The Citizens of Lancer' or 'The Bastard Offspring of Moloch'.

Allow me to introduce myself: I am Mr Snuffleupagus the Bard, and ever since I was a child I was cursed with changing into a werewolf when provoked. I blame this on my mother for getting it on with a wolf, but there's no use crying over spilt milk. Because of my condition, I was often teased and bullied as a child, which made me change into wolf form and scare them away. Eventually my parents were forced to remove me from the other children because of my aggresive behaviour. Because of my unpleasant childhood, I took refuge in music, writing songs about how bleak and ugly the world was. You could say I became an emo, except I tended to slash other peoples wrists instead of my own. I also liked to slash faces too.

I never took proffesional training in my music, so I admit I am far from musically talemted. But perhaps it is my lack of talent that will save us in this quest.

"The name is More, Manfried More. I'm a priest, and thus interessed in learning more about the people living around here, their beliefs, their nationality, their tastes..." said Manfried, looking at his teammates to be while licking his lips lightly when his eyes arrived upon the chubbiests of them.

A tall man in tatty robes and breeches waves a bulging sack by way of greeting, the sack hisses and yowls.

Awright, I'm Cog, this is my sack of cats

You can just call me Enna. I'm an opener of.. things. I'm more of a g'el for doors or locks, maybe the occasional wall, then your average thug with brunt force.

I dunna know about you folks, but I'm ready to be gettin on with finding the standard, though if Mister "Sar'gent" over there would give us a bit more detail, lot of things could be a standard and we don't even know if their talking a seal, banner, or other such item. Faster we do it sooner we can rub it in that brutes face that he couldn't even find a little trinket.

Oh and I'll take 2 of those potions else we go anywhere. Things come in handy when dealin' with those less then professional types.

My real name is not of importance, just call me Maîtresse. I am a dealer of pain and punishment, I am a Dominatrix. Pain can be ever so pleasurable for both parties, where as punishment will only be pleasurable to me. A word of warning, I bow to no one.