Homestar Runner Wiki Forum

Might I suggest that we do a bit of free-form storytelling?

THE RULES:
1) Do not describe the actions of a Non-Player Character (an NPC) unless your character is interacting with said NPC.
2) Only describe the actions of your character, not other player's characters.
3) Do not suddenly give yourself gamebreaker superpowers out of the blue.
4) Stay in-character when conversing in-game. If you must break character, prefix your out-of character words with the <OOC> flag.
5) Describe your character's actions in the third person, except when you're quoting what your character says.
6) Keep it clean.
7) This is fantasy roleplaying. No sci-fi or steampunk allowed.
8) The game is set in a fictional universe with a technology level near what Europe had around 1000 AD (AKA the middle ages). That means no gunpowder, no running water, an illiterate populace, and brutal justice. I think you get the picture.
9) Magic is allowed, but please do not use it as a deus ex machina. Try and respect the rest of the players.
10) You do not need to be human. You can be some sort of humanoid, creature of myth, pixie, elf, dwarf, whatever. (Subject to GM's approval)
11) Sarge is the Gamemaster. All disputes are to be referred to him.

That's it. No other rules (unless I add them later). If you can make stuff up, you can play.

The most important thing to keep in mind is that this is a ROLE-playing game. You make a character, and take on the role of that character. You're pretending to be someone else, OK? That's what makes this fun.

Now, THE SETTING

Welcome to the mythical land of Skara Brae. Through the ages this land has seen feuding clans, invading barbarians, rampaging orcs, and a seemingly endless supply of adventures brave or foolish enough to seek out trouble. More recently, however, the various clans united under one banner to repell an invasion from the northlands. Under the leadership of High King Aeron, at the Battle of Breclough, the invaders were defeated and their leader slain on the feild of battle. They have not been seen in Skara Brae since. However, without a common enemy the King fears that his lords and dukes would rather fight each other than unite under him. For the time being, however, all is peaceful in Skara Brae. Even the orcs have been silent of late.

You find yourself in the city of Glenarbor, a small port city on the western ocean. Before you is a tavern; the sign shows it to be called the Red Lion Inn. To your left is the town market, to you right is the city's lone blacksmith. Behind you is the way to the waterfront district.

<tubleweeds blow by>


<EDIT, Sept. 10, 2007: Now that we're well into Chapter Four, we're not accepting new players. Sorry, but our roster is full.>

_________________

The well-muscled lizard boy boy took his shiny new sword in his hand. It had a 4-foot-long blade, with a shiny brass dragon-design hilt. Gorgeous in every way. As a warrior, he didn't need a lot of armor; his tough scales were enough protection, & his strong muscles weren't a bad companion.

3 pennies in his pack. Practically nothing. "I need some food! Lots of it. Mayhaps I can fight someone...but where?" The lizard turned his head to the Tavern & the market.

"Not very many people in the market...they must all be in the tavern."

_________________

Just then, a man stumbles out of the Tavern. Obviously drunk, he hit's the curb with is face just as the phrase "... AND STAY OUT!" echoes from beyond the rapidly closing door.

As the man slowly rises to his feet, he mumbles something about beer, barmaids, and pinching.

_________________

Marcus drew his sword as the drunkard hit the curb. He kept it up as the man stumbled to his feet.

"Had a few too many, eh? Listen, can I get anything for free in there...what's your name?"

_________________

The drunkard 's eyes are unfocused, as if he's not sure who or what he is at the moment. He looks up and says: "Huh? Whazit.. free? You.. yiou knowzzz.. If something's free and then.. and then.. and then the barmaids they.. oh they.. ha ha.. yes they do, don't they."
The drunkard's face seems to gain some measure of composer, and he stands up. Despite the fact that the ground he's standing on is totaly flat, he is leaning to one side as if he were on the side of a steep slope. If it wasn't for the w fact that his head is now leaning against the outer wall of the tavern, he's most asuredly fall over Focusing his eyes on you he says: "Say, buddy, you look like a fine, <HIC> I say, fine upstanding sort of chap... could you talk to the barmaid and get her to bring me a drink? I'll pay you for your trouble. Got's plenty of coin, I do. Why, i'll even give you something in advance."
He fishes around in his pockets pulling out odds and ends as he searches for money. A note falls out of his pocket as he does so, but he doesn'tseem to notice.
"Lemme see.. how much have I got left.. Ah.." He pulls out a coinpurse, which does indeed seem to have a lot of coin in it.
Looking up at you, he pulls out a gold coin. "There, take this to Grizella and ask for a two pints of Bester's Black Brew, to go. I don't mind the wooden cups... realy I don't. Them pints is two coppers each, so you'll get a silver back. You can keep the change, and here's a copper for you up front."
Now that you've had a better look at him you realise that, his clothes tell you that he's very well off, possibly a nobleman or a rich merchant.

_________________

The lizard-boy took the gold coin from the drunkard. It seemed odd that a man dressed in such fine clothing would be thrown out of a tavern.

"Thank you, sir. What were you doing in there? You look like you belong in a castle!"

_________________

Drunkard: "I was gettibng drunk in there, that's what I was doing. Well, I was untillzz they throws me out. Seems there's a rule about how many you can 'ave 'fore you get tossed out. Oh, and don't pinch the barmaids, they don't like that. Come to think of it, I was tossed out right after I pinched Grizz.. grizzlla.. Grizzyyyelz.. the fat one. Yeah uh.. that's what I was doing in there. So.. you'zz gonna get me them drinks, right?"
He lean's closer, and in a confiding voice he whispers: "I'll tell you's a secret if you get me the drinks. I knows all sorts of secrets, I do. Plenty of things I'm not supposed to know. But I do." With each exhalation of his breath, you become that much more assured that this man is extremely drunk. It's a wonder he can stand up at all, let alone carry on a conversation. No, wait, he's fallen over.
Drunkard: "uhff.. hey where'd he go? And why is this wall so hard to push away from?" Aparantly he's now unaware that the sidewalk is not a wall and that he's lying sideways on the ground. His attempts to push himself away from the sidewalk (that he thinks is a wall) are comicly in vain, as gravity is functioning normaly despite his sense of vertical direction having been upset. Eventualy, he rights himself, but not before something else falls out of his pockets. It appears to be a small box wrapped in silk.

Drunkard: "Ah there you are. Where's my drinks?"

_________________

Marcus enters the tavern & quickly returns to hand the man his elixir of life. "Here you go, sir. Shall I take you to your home, wherever it is?"

_________________

Drunkard: "Yes, good idea. Yes, lets ovvv.. offffff..." He downs the first pint. "to home." He hands you the empty cup, and takes the second pint.

Drunkard: "Come on."
The drunken man turns on his heel military style, and makes like he's about to head off somewhere purposefully, at which point he promptly falls over. "Drat. Let's try that again. A little help, my good fellow?" He satggers to his feet, and extends an arm towards you, as if he expect to lean on you.

Stange as it may seem, now that he's had a drink his speach is less slured and he's not as bleary-eyed as he was before. Same trouble standing up, though.

Drunkard: "The name's Farnham, by the way. What's your's?"

_________________

Marcus helped Farnham to his feet. "My name's Marcus, sir." Farnham didn't seem to know where he was going.

"Do you know where your home is? Is anyone with you?"

_________________

Farnham: "Well, of course I know's where I live. Same place I always do. Iss's the big one on the corner. See? Right over there."

He points at a house about twenty feet away from where you are now. The sign over the front door shows the symbol for a jewlary store. The building is a three-story building made of stone. A low watchtower rises from one corner of the building, atop which flies a pennant who's heraldry you do not recognise.

_________________

Gamemaster's Note: Marcus now has ten coppers (the two he started with plus the one Farnham gave him, plus the six he got back as change) plus the sliver coin he also got as change from the barmaid. This contradicts what our drunken friend said you'd get back, but he's really quite drunk now so don't rely on his ability to make change in his head.

A word on coinage in Skara Brae:
Golden Guinea = Ten gold coins. Golden Guineas are unique to Skara Brae: the other kingdoms that trade with it do not use this unit of currency.
One Gold Coin = 100 Silver coins.
One Silver coin = 100 Copper coins.
One Copper coin = 100 Tin coins.

Coins from most of the other kingdoms circulate freely in Skara Brae, despite having someone else's head on one side. Happily, the actual size of the coins involved is roughly the same for each denomination. Also, the concept of "Foriegn Exchange" is non-existent in this land: A coin is worth what the coin is worth, and that's all anyone cares about.

In Skara Brae, the gold coin is called a Sovrign, the siver is called a Dinar (plural is Dinarii), the Copper is called a Penny, and the Tin coin is known as a Farthing. Paper money does not exist. Barter is used nearly as often as coinage is, so don't be surprised if someone offers you a chicken as part of a deal.

_________________

Marcus stood in awe of the tall building, his kilt gently flapping in the weak breeze. "Forgive me, sir, but I thought you were a knight. Though it is quite an abode..." Marcus tried to recognize the emblem on the pennant, but he couldn't.

"Are you going to invite me in, Sir Farnham?"

_________________

Farnham: "Oh, I's not a knight. No. I'm a merchant. A gem dealer, to be more precice.. presisss..er... exact. Come on in, we'll have a drink."
Farnham walks up to a side entrance. He fumbles around with his keychain and, eventualy, finds the key he's looking for. However as he is about to put the key in the lock, the door opens and a man who looks remarkably like Farnham stands in the doorway, looking at him most disaprovingly.

Other Man: "Drunk already, Farnham? It's not even miday. You're a discrace to the family, you know that?"

Farnham: "This is my brother, Maxwell. He's a tea toataler"

Maxwell: "I am not! I like a drink as much as another man, but I don't go off and get roaring drunk in the middle of the day when there's work to be done! What if father sees you? You're lucky he hasn't disowned you, you are!"

Farnham ignores Maxwell and pushes by him. "Come on in, Marcus. We'll go have a drink in the den. I know where father keeps the brandy."

Maxwell: "Farnham, no! Not father's good brandy! You know that's for the important guests." Maxwell turns to you "I'm sorry about all this. He's been a terible drunkard ever since... well.. No, no.. never mind. Thanks for getting him home safe... he called you Marcus right?" Maxwell extends his hand.

Farnham stumbles off down a hallway and goes around a corner. You're just outside the doorway, and from what you can see this must be the residental entrace. The shop entrance is around on the other street, under the sign.

_________________

"Yessir, that's my name." Marcus shakes Maxwell's hand with his scaly, clawed hand. "I'm not much of a drinker myself; I'm a little young."

It's true; he was only 14. And besides, Marcus wasn't interested in a glass of brandy--he wanted money, and lots of food. Such a finely built lizard-boy needs a good amount of nourishment.

"Excuse me, sir, but I'm famished. Would it be rude of me to ask your hospitality for a filling meal?"

_________________

Maxwell shakes his head and says: "I don't mean to seem ungratefull, but I have to sober up my brother before father sees him.It's bad enough that Farnham is drunk in the middle of the day again, but if he catches me feeding a strange lizzardman in the kitchen there's no telling what he'll do. My father is not known for his tolerent veiws, you understand. But, never let it be said I'd let a hungry man starve. Here: take this gold over to the Red Lion Inn. That should more that cover any meal you might order from them." Maxwell hands you three gold coins. "I'll meet you there later, after I've taken care of Farnham. There is a matter I'd like to discuss with you, and perhaps some work for you if you're looking for some. Now, I don't mean to be rude, but I have a drunk brother to sober up."
With that, Maxwell closes the door. You hear the lock turn as the door clicks shut.

_________________

"Thank you, sir." Marcus took the 3 gold coins & walked to the Red Lion, keeping an eye on the jewelers' grand home. He stepped inside, one hand on his sword. He spotted Grizella.

"Excuse me madam", he asked her as he pulled up a stool, "May I have a pint? Nothing too strong, please; I don't hold my liquor well."

_________________

<GM's Note: Grizella is the barmaid, not the barkeeper. Barmaids usualy aren't behind the bar, they're out amongst the customers. Haven't you ever watched Cheers?>

Grizella: "How do you feel about a pint of apple cider, then? We just got a cask in from the Isle of Enshae, and it's right sweet this season."

_________________

<OOC: Duly noted.>

"Excellent, ma'am! A pint of that, then."

Marcus smiled as Grizella went to fill his order. She was a sweet lady, looking about 50. The tavern was about half full of patrons--all of them human. Marcus gripped his sword tighter.

"If anyone's going to fight me in here," he said to himself, "I'll be ready."

_________________

Grizella returned with the pint of Cider
"That'll be a penny and four farthings, please."

_________________

Marcus reached into his bag & dropped the coins into Grizella's hand. "A little extra for your troubles, ma'am. Keep the change." He smiled, and started sipping the sweet, tangy cider. It went down smoothly, leaving a nice, crisp taste in Marcus's mouth.

Marcus spotted a somewhat shady-looking man in the corner, dressed all in black from head to his boots, his face covered in stubble. The lizard went over to a big man at the bar, who had been there for quite some time.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you know that man in black, in the corner?"

_________________

The man turns to Marcus and puffs on his pipe for a moment, before, turning his head to glance at the man in black.

"Aye, I know him. Or rather I, know of him. Never actualy met the man, and if ye don't mind I'd like to keep it that way. His reputation preceeds him, if you follow my meaning."

_________________

"I understand, sir." Marcus took a few steps to the dark man's corner, his sword confidently in its sheath.

"Good afternoon, sir." Marcus presented himself.

_________________

The man in black didn't turn to look at Marcus: "What's good about it?" was all he said.
Marcus could see the man had a plate of food on the table in front of him. Some sort of stew, by the looks of it, with a wooden spoon in it. No weapons were aparant. The man was wearing a long black cape, a black heavy broad-brimed hat, and black panteloons. His shirt was open at the chest, but an undershirt was visible there. On the bench oposite him a large sack and a heavy leather greatcoat sat piled together.

<GM's Note: Panteloons are a kind of loose-fitting light cloth pant that is favored by sailors and fishermen>

_________________

"I'd like to make an offer with you, sir. You see, there lives a jeweler by the name of Farnham just at the base of the hill there. If you can help me take every last carat he's got...we might become good friends."

_________________

The man said: "And what makes you think I'd be interested in that sort of thing?"

_________________

"You seem like a man who enjoys...thieving, sir."

_________________

The man in black turned to face Marcus. He looked him up and down, and then said: "And I suppose you have some briliant plan for robing the richest man in Glenarbor, do you? This better be good, lizzard. I'm not taken to hooking up with fools or greenhorns. They have a tendency to get killed."

_________________

Marcus chuckled a little. "Sir, the only thing green on me is my skin!" His voice took a serious, almost mad tone.

"I am in the thievery business for one purpose: To avenge the death of my father, a priest who was assassinated by a phantom of some sort. Until I can find the killer...I might as well make a fortune in the process."

_________________

The man in black didn't look impressed. "You do realise it's one of the most hevily guarded places in all Skare Brae, don't you? And then there's the town watch to deal with, and the ranger patrols. Better men than you or I have tried to rob that place, and none made it out alive. So tell me, what makes you think you will succed where others have failed?"

_________________