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.

“And you, Mars?”

“I’m a living swarm monk-rogue who took a vow of silence…” The hooded figure in the corner said, giving them a thumbs-up made entirely of tentacles. “Starting now, I mean.”

“How is that any different from your usual form?” The paladin asked, exasperated.

“It’s fine, Mars can dip his toes into the role-playing genre a little bit at a time. Whatever he’s comfortable with.” Jocelyn said.

Mars gave another thumbs-up made of tentacles.

“Alright, now, down to the important stuff,” The dark-skinned paladin said. “I received a divine message that we should journey to the ruins of the old capital. Something is amiss there, and we need to-“

“We need to get drunk!” The massive armor said, slamming his fist on the table. “I wanna get wasted and bang a bar-wench!”

The bar-wench approaching their table raised a brow and turned on her heel, steering away from the odd group.

“You can’t…you don’t have the parts for any of that,” the paladin said. “You didn’t want skin, and now you’re wanting to do a bunch of skin-dependent activities!”

“Can I at least seduce one?”

“I…guess? You’re gonna roll with double disadvantage.”

Lucy the bar-wench nodded in agreement.

“Gerome? Can I explore the town?” Jocelyn asked, standing.

“Sure, I set the town up to be explored, but we were gonna establish-“

“I’m gonna go steal some stuff!” Mars said, breaking his vow of silence as he oozed away from the table.

This seems like as good a time as any to get the heck out of here, Perry thought, sliding away from his table and heading out the front door, leaving behind the two copper coins for his drink.

Perry left the Dashing Donkey and allowed his feet to steer him towards The Rusty Hinge, a local smithery.

“Evening John, Martha,” Perry said, nodding to the proprietor and his wife. “The handle on my sword is rattling and I was hoping I could-“

“Natalie’s in the back milord,” The fat shopkeep said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“leave the door open, milord!” Natalie’s mother called after him. “I can’t have that girl toyed with by a young knave with poor intentions.”

Perry sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You realize he could buy and sell us, right?” John asked, “She couldn’t ask for a better suitor.”

“It’s not his money I’m doubting,” Martha said from where she cleaned and oiled various metal products, each bearing her daughter’s stamp. “It’s his motives. You know how young men are…”

Martha’s voice faded into the background as Perry approached the back, where the chime of hammer on metal beckoned him forward.

Perry arrived and spotted Natalie hard at work, her brows furrowed, a smudge of soot on her forehead and cheek from where she’d wiped sweat away with dirty arms. The tiny smith wielded a hammer that was surely too big for her with unyielding strength seemingly fueled by her obsession with perfection.

“Natalie,” Perry said, slipping out of his overcoat and setting it on the rack.

“Oh, OH!” Natalie said, setting aside her work and wiping her sooty hands on her apron, accomplishing little. “Milord, what brings you here?”

“You can dispense with the milord nonsense,” Perry said, pulling his sword out of its sheath and handing it to Natalie. “My saber handle is rattling, and I was hoping you could help me out.”

“I can’t dispense with the honorifics,” Natalie said, taking the blade from him and popping open the handle with a deft application of her hammer to the pins.

She took one look at the screws he’d deliberately loosened, and her cheeks flushed in realization. “You’re the son of the captain of the guard, your station is so far above mine…”

“It’s really not that impressive.” Perry said with a shrug.

“It really isn’t,” Heather’s voice caused Perry’s eye to twitch.

“Heather.” Perry said, turning to face the tall young woman in her tight silks imported from across the ocean. Her reddish-gold mane created a halo around her head, brilliantly reflecting the evening sun coming in through the door.

“Paradox.” Her green eyes narrowed.

“Miss,” Natalie said, her fingers deftly re-securing Perry’s handle to his sword. “What brings you here?”

“Some of the drape holders in my enormous mansion snapped.” Heather said, holding out a couple wrought iron fixtures that had clearly been torn out of the wall. “Metal fatigue.”

“I was under the impression your ‘enormous mansion’ had a blacksmith on retainer.” Perry said, crossing his arms.

“Jerry’s got the night off. Besides, everyone in town knows Natalie is preternaturally gifted when it comes to handling hot steel. Isn’t that what you came here for…Paradox?” Heather took a step forward until they were almost nose to nose.

His oldest friend liked conflict, and Perry was happy to oblige. He straightened to his full height, his eyes level with the crown of her head.

“I do have quite the chunk of…hot steel, Heather. Naturally, as the son of the captain of the guard, it’s good to develop a close relation with those who’ll be handling it. You, on the other hand, the vapid daughter of a spice merchant, don’t have much need for such services.”

Heather raised a brow.

“I can think of other ways the young smith could service me. I could provide quite the lucrative career in exchange for her talent at…hammering things.” Heather said, peering up at him.

Natalie cleared her throat and adjusted her collar before splashing a bit of ice-water from the tempering bucket on her face.

Perry was about to hit Heather with another vicious mockery, when a shriek cut through the friendly taunting.

“Mom!” Natalie said, slipping between the two of them and sprinting for the front of the shop.

Perry and Heather bolted after the young smith, arriving in the storefront a heartbeat later.

A cloaked figure vanished into the evening sun, leaving behind a trail of slime on the ground.

“Dad!” Natalie shouted, kneeling beside her father, who was pressing a hand over his generous belly, blood seeping around his fingers.

“It’s fine, the blade was only a couple inches long, and I’ve got a lot more padding than that,” He said, wincing. “Can you get me some of your mother’s special medicine? I need to disinfect my wound.”

“He took the lockbox, John!” Martha said, aghast.

“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.