Light Hearted Game IC

"You have been gathered here today" begins the Mayor of Bacon Village, "Because we have a serious problem. A very serious problem indeed, and you are the men and women to deal with it. I say this, even though you were selected completely at random to undertake this task, because I have the utmost faith that you will not fail to deliver. Our problem, you see, is that Bacon Village has run out of bacon. As you can imagine, this has put something of a strain on our public image, as when people come to Bacon Village bacon tends to be something they expect. Its all quite embarrassing, really." The Mayor shuffles awkwardly, stroking his mutton chops with a sad expression on his face. "And... well. When I say that we have run out of bacon, I mean all our bacon has been stolen by a group of animal rights activists. I believe they call themselves the Children of the Aubergine, and they've caused quite the ruckus. I would like you to track these miscreants down, recover our bacon and put these ne'er-do-wells to justice!"

Zack rolls his eyes. "Pffeh. Vegetarians. Bunch a' stinkin' animal-shaggin' berks. Don' know why we bovver ta let 'em live 'round here, anyhow, what wif that stench. 'All-natural,' my bleedin' arse..."

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Yes, vegetarians are terrible, and should be hated and shunned.
It's a joke, people. I'm a vegetarian.

"Indeed," replied the Mayor in solemn tones, "It has been simply dreadful for tourism. I'm glad to know the issue of the vegetarian menace is in such apt hands. Now, if you have any questions, feel free to direct them to my assistant, Geoffrey. As for myself, it is time for my afternoon tea." The Mayor moves off towards the tea rooms, and a short, thin man with scruffy ginger hair and an awkward-fitting suit several sizes too big for him steps forward.

Jem flings Lucy Cypher in the spot where the mayor should have been as he went to get his tea. The fanciest man runs outside gathering people with his charms and gives a speech so loud, maximising his natural sensational inspiration.

MEN, WOMAN, REVOLUTIONARIES, COUNTRY PEOPLE, WE HAVE BEEN RIPPED BY THE THIEVES, OUR DAILY DOSE OF BACON. JOIN WITH ME AND TOGETHER WE WILL SHOW THE PETA THAT THEY HAVE NO RIGHT MESSING UP OUR LIFESTOCKS, TAKE OUR ADORABLE CUSHY PILLOWS AND OUR PRECIOUS NATIONALITY!

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Diplomacy - [roll0]

Raising his hands to the sky, he complains.

WHY DO YOU HAVE TO RUN OUT OF BACON! NO WONDER BREAKFAST TASTED SO BAD! BACON! THE ESSENTIAL CORE INGREDIENT TO FULL-HEAVY BREAKFAST! NOW I WANT TO PUKE!

And his stomach agrees with him, rumbling in discomfort, his face sickly green after long time of withholding and he tries to find somewhere to release but he accidentally puke on the floor in the mayor's house.

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...Sorry, what? :smallconfused:
Could you perhaps edit that post back a bit? Chaotic Stupid isn't really encouraged, even in a joke campaign like this. Should have made that clearer, but yeah. Getting incredibly drunk, and ending up accusing him of being an evil lawn gone and trying to trap him in a net or something is alright- randomly puking on people for no real reason isn't so fine. Inventive ridiculousness is good, random acts of wanton destruction and buffoonery because LOL, isn't.

Also, what is the diplomacy for, exactly? You don't seem to be trying to convince anyone of anything.

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((OOC: Sorry, went overboard a little. But I edited that he randomly gave a speech outside to rebel, his voice so loud and then puke because the lack of bacon causes "food poisoning."))

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Remember to keep OOC in spoiler tags! We'll go with your edit for now, but I think I need to go over a few things in the OOC to make sure we're all on the same level.

Passersby stare at the man that just ran out onto the street, shouting like a madman, and promptly decided to ignore him; he was clearly completely crazy. Murmurs amongst the crows could be discerned, with many people commenting how similar to a certain Old Winston this odd, rambling man was.

BLERGGHHHHHHHH! Sorry about that. Had a bit of too much milk t'day. Stomach got the bumps. What are we suppose to do again?

Looking at the mess and then at his hirers, Jem blinks cutely faster than a curtain can raise up and down at the assistant the mayor left behind. His ignorance of the dilly-dallying he had been parading senselessly eve away had been forgotten or he had no such recollection.

Standing over by the refreshment table, Rochiad slowly lowered the carrot he had been munching on.
Looking around to see if anyone had been watching, he quickly grabs up a hunk of medium-rear steak and takes a bite, it's juices dribbling down his chin.

Through a mouthful of meat, he declares, "If the livelihood of this town has been stolen, then I, SIR Rochaid Albarada shall find the pigs and bring, and bring home the Bacon!"
Putting his helmet back on, forgetting the face guard is down, he goes to take another bite of steak, doing nothing but smearing the juicy meat all over the front of his helmet.

Wait, is he asking for... "Adventurers!" Molliana's cry is full of glee and a small hint of megalomania, her eyes going wide as she thinks about all the times she's wanted to do this: "I'll need a backpack of course, and rations, certainly, then a wagon maybe for all the treasure we'll find, and the bacon obviously, and pitons, a water flask, a whistle, torches, potions, wands, flint, rope... and a grappling iron. Look out world, the table's have turned and Molly Stokesworth is going to show you who will be the most powerful adventurer in the land!"

Molly's monologue however goes mostly ignored, and she realises that her world shattering decision to search for the bacon has not quite received the attention she feels it really should: "Never mind, I'm sure they'll make a documentary on it. Maybe I'll write it down so I can do it again for them. Maybe some special effects wizards can get some thunder going in the background, that kind of thing." Molly continues to ramble as she sits down at the refreshment table opposite a tall knight who appeared to be attempting to colour in his visor with steak juices...

"Do you think that the enemy is a bovine-vampire?" Molliana asked the complete stranger, "I would guess it is more likely they were of the porcine variety honestly, but maybe you have extra information? Are you a spy? Or a powerful diviner? No, wearing too much armour for that, unless it is magical armour." Molliana goes on like this for some time as she stands on her seat and inspects Rochaid's armour, never ceasing her unending battery of questions.

Leaning back as the strange woman stares at him, the weight of his armour tugging him further back until suddenly, windmilling his arms, the Knight crashes to the floor.
The impact of his collapse causing the punch bowl to raise into the air, overturning and landing with a wet "splosh" over Rochaid's head.

"Ahhh... I meant to do that... I like bathing in," smacking his lips for a moment, he continues, "Apple and Blackcurrant cordial." Rochaid exclaims, keeping the bravado in his voice.

The decorative and overdressed young woman on the other side of the square dismounts from her horse like a kitten removing itself from a sunwarmed stone. "Bacon village, out of bacon? Why; the very foundation of the local economy is in peril! Regardless of your whys and wherefores, and your own probable personal incompentance, we shall give succour! We randomly chosen individuals shall bring home the bacon or die trying due to our chronic inability to accept failure!". She draws her dagger and raises it toward the sky.

"Also, anyone who worships eggplant is either from a backward part of China, or deserves to be shot on sight. Just for using the French word. It's got an English name people, you don't have to bow your heads to the language of Moliere! It's not clever or sophisticated; it's just French for "we couldn't get potato"

"And Mister Short Man With a Girl's Name, please don't start talking socialist. It just leads to lots of people dying unpleasantly for ill-defined reasons. I don't like things happening for ill-defined reasons".

[OOC: I think I'm aleady out of character]

Zack looks at the mayor. "Please, for the luvva Pete, tell me oi ain't gonna be workin' wif these paraffins."

"...Yeah? An' 'ow much are you payin' me?"

"...I need a tiddley. No, an 'ole wheelbarrow o' tiddleys. Oi ain't nearly scotched enough for this."

Lucille scuttles over to Zack with a smile like the jagged edge of a tin-lid after you've thrown out the peaches. "You won't work with us? Truely?" She casts her eyes down, and crosses her hands before her waist. "I must respect your decision; dear Sir whom I have not met, but you must ask for yourself; was Higurashi a fantasy, or a documentary?"

And then disappears into the crowd to make faces at small children.

Don't know if she came from a village full of psycho woman or reminded me of a certain vampire bleeding blood from his eye sockets? Jem remarks, freshening himself from the table, holding a cup that he turn onto his open mouth in between times. Either way, she is one Jem.

A jittery squeak cause him to look at where it came from. SNIFFER! NO EATING WHAT I DID NOT ASK YOU TO EAT! He brush the food away, getting to his barely leashed familiar.

As if answering to the protestations of the group, a low rumbling sound can be heard throughout the village, when all of a sudden a giant, moving stem of Broccoli stomps forward, breaking forth through the doors of a warehouse; the question of how someone successfully smuggled such a large stem of broccoli into the town centre without drawing attention hangs in the air for a moment before being tossed aside as people flee screaming from the streets.

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I can't apologise enough for the delay; I honestly thought that I had already posted! I've been helping a family member move house recently and it must have just gone completely out of me head- I'm so sorry!

Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah!!!

Flailing his arms, his eyes bulges and his mouth drops.

Is that even possible?!!!!!

He regains his composure.

No fear. The man and sidekick are here to kick ass. Yarrrrr!

He rips his shirt off, brandishing Lucy Cypher.

Lucille raises her head from the crouch she's in, off to the side of the square. her face crimson with mortification. How could I have said such sily things to a stranger? To a crowd? I must be simply overcome with this unaccustomed freedom and bustling, lower-class life around me. I must, must remember who I am.

And then the presence of the ambulatory macrovegetable comes thudding into her perception like a runaway steamtrain crashing into a burning orphanage, interrupting her emo self-indulgence. It seems our valour must be displayed, not assumed. Could I use my disk--no, it won't get me more than half my height off the ground. The thing isn't brittle. So I can't shatter it. But maybe--

Calling on the sporadically useful powers that are her creepy-yet-impeccably-dressed birthright, she summons up four dancing lights which streak torwards the broccolli and then dance and weave just out of it's reach, hoping to confuse it long enough for others to rally.

Scrambling awkwardly to his feet, Rochaid makes to charge the large green leafy enemy, the punchbowl still wobbling on top of his head.
Trying to pull his sword from it's scabbard, he realizes it's stuck!
Tugging harder he lets out a loud grunt and the blade comes free. Not just from it's sheath, but also from his hand.

The weapon flies through the air for 10 feet until it slams into the sign on an egg vendors stall, mere inches from the top of the poor merchants head.

Shaking his head, the crystal bowl rattling, he calls out for his mount, "Dorothy! Come! We go to battle!"

A shaggy looking animal, slightly bigger than a horse with a long neck plods around the side of the Town Hall, and approaches the Knight as he furiously motions it to hurry up.
As it gets to just outside his reach, it makes a sound in it's throat. The next moment, the front of the tall man's helmet is covered with a foamy white fluid. Lucky for him, he had left his face guard down.

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Initiative! Also, I shall be out of the country until the 13th of August and am unsure as to whether or not I'll have internet access. If I do not, then I will resume when I get back (either the 13th or 14th, as my flight gets in late and, yknow, timezones).

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The man's manly initiative - [roll0]

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ASS ASS HELL BALLS

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