Chapter 85: You’re an NPC, Perry

Chapter 85: You’re an NPC, Perry

In ages long past, there was a mighty kingdom that shone with the light of gram’pykins, blessed by fortune and glory. Unfortunately such bright jewels can attract the worst to them.

A darkness began creeping into the ever-bright nation, an unnamed horror whose very visage was deadly to behold.

The lich, Norodor.

OOC: How do they know it was a lich, if they never saw him?

OOC: They saw him later, just let me finish.

OOC: Oh, okay. What’s a lich?

OOC: It’s an undead wizard, basically.

OOC: Oooh...I don’t know what either of those things are.

OOC: Just let me finish and I’ll explain.

OOC: Right-o

The lich inflicted an insidious disease upon the kingdom, which suffered as it never had before. The people grew restless searching for any scapegoat they could find as bodies began to line the street hundreds of innocents were burned at the stake in a desperate, mindlessly human attempt to root out the cause of their suffering.

When there were nearly as many dead as there were living, Norodor walked into the capital, the dead in the streets jerking to life in his wake and attacking the living. In a matter of hours, the capital fell under the evil one’s control

A paltry few survived and spread the news to the outlying towns and cities: The country had fallen, and a lich was responsible.

Far in the west of the country, a young spirit blacksmith named...um...Natanya, was in a weird will-they-won’t-they love triangle with this hot guy and girl who were far above her station.

OOC: I hardly think that’s relevant, Gerome.

OOC: Well, too bad, I’m keeping it. Some people like it.

OOC: I like it!

OOC: See? Now let me finish.

The three, Natanya, Perior, and...Hassandra, put aside their weird sexual tension and combined their efforts to make a sword that could slay the lich. An artifact that grew in power as it slew, could take any form, and critical hit on a fifteen to twenty.

OOC: Oooh, (rubs hands together)

With this sword, a succession of valiant paladins drove the undead out of the capital and re-took the throne, but Norodor was already gone: He’d acquired what he come for: An artifact of great power in the kingdom’s vaults.

A thousand years passed and the kingdom never quite recovered it’s former glory, encroached in every direction by bandits, monsters, and other kingdoms.

In this age of unrest a prophecy was whispered by the Thousand Tongues in harmony. It spoke of Norodor, that he would return, and that the sword made to end him was both his goal, and his undoing.

It spoke of four valiant heroes who would oppose him.

OOC: That’s us, right?

OOC: yes, now shut up.

You all meet in a tavern...

***

Perry gawked at the strange newcomers, his beer halfway to his face.

Four incredibly unique individuals sat around the table in the Dashing Donkey, quibbling in ways that indicated either they were insane, or Perry was dreaming.

“Having skin feels weird.” An older looking man with a well-kempt goatee and a huge mace said, tugging on the skin on his arm. “It’s itchy and it’s constantly feeling tiny temperature changes and breezes and things. It’s like a million million nerve cells are all yelling at me at once. Why would anyone want this? Why can’t I just be myself?”

“It’s a role playing game,” A dark-skinned man in fine heavy armor said. “The point is to be someone other than yourself.”

“Can’t I just take off my skin?” the man asked. “That wouldn’t cause too much problems would it?”

“No, I’m pretty sure it would,” A buxom woman with pouty lips and criminally impractical, skimpy set of armor said, motioning to the rest of the patrons who were staring at them, similar to Perry.

“You can’t take off your skin, but you could be a race that doesn’t have skin. How about living armor?”

“Do they have skin?”

“No.”

“Can they still seduce bar-wenches?” The old man asked.

“No. Seducing bar-wenches requires skin.” The dark-skinned paladin said.

“That’s what you think...alright, I’ll be a living armor.”

“Alright, lemme just reset the tavern.” The dark-skinned paladin with the wavy hair raised his hand.

***Perry***

Perry gawked at the strange newcomers, his beer halfway to his face.

Four incredibly unique individuals sat around the table in the Dashing Donkey, quibbling in ways that indicated either they were insane, or Perry was dreaming.

“So I was trawling through the desires of a bunch of the neckbeards who play this game, and a common theme was the desire to play as someone who looked like this,” An outlandishly buxom woman said, looking down at herself. “But it’s not nearly as practical as it seemed in their minds. My skin is really cold, and everyone keeps staring at me in a way that makes me feel...unsafe.”

“Do you want to change your character too, Jocelyn?” The dark-skinned paladin asked, his armor decorated with the crest of gram’pykins.

“No, no, I’ll handle it. I’ve never felt unsafe before and it’s terribly exciting,” Jocelyn said, experimentally lifting her boobs and letting them drop.

“Okay, Clank, how about you?”

“I’m good,” A voice echoed out of a massive suit of armor. The man inside must’ve been at least six foot four.

“To the hells with the lockbox, he took my mother’s ring.”

“Grandma’s ring? The one she gave me?” Natalie asked, her brows furrowed as she grabbed a flask hidden in a book. Natalie’s mother watched with a frown, her gaze flickering back and forth between the flask of booze and it’s hiding place that hadn’t been quite as secret as she expected.

“Sorry sweetness. I thought it would be safe...in the safe.” John chuckled at the irony before groaning through his teeth when he poured the flask over the wound, prying it open to get the alcohol all the way in.

The bleeding was already slowing from the shallow wound.

“Is it magical or something?” Heather asked.

“It’s meant to serve as my engagement ring,” Natalie said, her eyes empty, shoulders drooped.

Perry’s brows rose, and he met Heather’s gaze.

“Dibs!” they shouted, shoving each other aside as they aimed for the entrance.

Perry knew exactly who he had to look for: those strangers he’d spotted in the tavern earlier. There was no way the culprit wasn’t this Mars fellow.

Heather broke left, following the trail of slime, and Perry broke right.

He already knew where the group was heading, and he needed supplies to head them off.

Perry sprinted all the way to his father’s home.

“Dad, I need weapons and a horse!” Perry said as he barreled through the main room, grabbing a satchel on the way in and stuffing it with clothes and coin from his room before heading for the armory.

“Wazzat?” Dad asked, soot creating a reverse mask around his face as he removed his protective eye-sheathes.

“Natalie got robbed, and I gotta go get it back.”

“Why?”

“Reasons,” Perry said, avoiding the engagement ring topic.

“Well, check it out. My pride and joy. A lever action automatic hand-crossbow, it fires six rounds in a matter of -hey!”

“Thanks dad,” Perry said, shoving the crossbow and a couple rows of spring-loaded bolts into the bag, along with a dagger and some wire and pilons and some spring-triggers, because who couldn’t use spring-triggers.

“So you’re not going to be home tomorrow night?” Dad asked as Perry packed.

“Probably not.”

“That’s disappointing. You know the Dark Sorceress is going to be attacking the city tomorrow afternoon. I was hoping we could fight her together. As a family.”

“Why does the dark sorceress keep attacking this town? It’s not that big. There’s nothing of any value here.”

Perry raised a finger.

“And another thing: how are you still alive? The Dark Sorceress is obviously far stronger than you and yet you fight her to a standstill twice a month, like clockwork.”

Mom entered the room, draped an arm over Dad’s shoulders and pecked him on the cheek. “Maybe she thinks Darryl is cute.”

Dad blushed.

Perry’s eyes narrowed as he glanced between his parents, a strange feeling, halfway between suspicion and Deja-vu nagging in the back of his mind.

“Something about this is highly suspicious...” Perry murmured. “But I don’t have time! Natalie’s been robbed.” He turned on his heel and headed for the stables.

“Is that the cute smith girl at the Rusty Hinge?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go track down the criminals and get her property back!”

“Good luck!” Mom called after him, taking off her dishwashing apron.

“Try not to get stabbed!” Dad added, waving.

Perry got their horse fitted with bridle and tack before shoving his satchel of necessities into the back and mounting the horse, riding Aegis out into the street.

The ruins of the old capital are east of here, Perry thought, nudging Aegis that direction.

“Whoah, Perry, you know how to ride a horse!?” A massive oaf exclaimed as Aegis trotted past him.

“Who are you?” Perry asked.

“Oh, you might not recognize me under all the LARPing gear!” the huge young man said, taking a pair of false pointed ears off. “It’s me, Brendon!”

“...Right...” Perry said.

Who is this guy, and why does he know me?

“Anyway, this ren-fair is something else. I mean, that place is even on fire! That’s some attention to detail.” ‘Brendon’ pointed towards the Dashing Donkey, which was indeed on fire, creating a massive pillar of smoke that rose into the sky while bystanders tried to fight the blaze.

Thankfully the tavern had a large easement around it, rather than being pressed up close to the other buildings.

“Who did it?” Perry asked.

“I think it was this big guy in full plate mail.” Brendon said, motioning to himself. “About my height.”

“We have to track him down!” Perry said. Perry had assumed the group was trouble, but this was just outlandish.

“Yeah, I think he went thataway,” Brendon said, pointing to the east. “Hey, are you on a quest?”

“Yes. Now If you’ll excuse me citizen, I must bring these outlaws to justice.”

“Oh, awesome!” Brendon said. “Can I join on your quest?”

“No.” Perry said, flicking Aegis’s reigns and resuming his journey.

“I’mma do it anyway. I couldn’t find any game stalls and I was getting bored.” Brendon said, following along as he took a massive bite out of a turkey leg.