Enarr

Variety Hour: An Absolute Comics Roleplay

I gotta say, it's nice to be here

[1x1] Request for Broacien: a medieval, realistic universe.

Alcott III

A young noble by the name of Alcott the third had hardly had a hair on his chest when he first bore witness to the efficiency of a wild, northern Berserkir in action. He’d lived in comfort in a village along the coast, a day’s journey from Northpass proper, so far removed from Stags’ Rest he hardly expected he’d meet a merchant, let alone an attacker. All the same, he did. He splayed his innards, in fact, with a cowardly, quivering ambush sprung from around a shady corner with a dainty dagger through the throat. The northerner had already liquidated his kin of strong men in a matter of minutes, leaving his mother and sisters intact only by merit of the fact they’d been in even deeper hiding.

Hours later, when he was removing the corpse from his grounds, he looted the berserkirs belongings and sought comfort in what he mistakenly assumed was a flask of mead. Instead, he had a vision, felt the wind raise him to the heavens as a chorus of passages from The Book offered him praise. He ordered the sun to bow before him and watched as it did just so. He found strength he’d not had previously, freeing the very stones of his path from their place with not more than his own fingers, equating it to the might that The Monarch himself must wield. And as he felt his divinity give way to responsibility, he forfeited his station in exchange for a position within the church of The Monarch, gaining a foothold as one of the prince-priests, desperate to find his way back to godhood.

Assigned a conflict-ridden region of the southern border, he took the liberty of beginning a habit of experimentation, instructing the peasantry to ingest various permutations of an alchemical cocktail of his own design in his best attempt to recreate the godmaking brew of the berserker. And so he spends his days, scheming and scribbling his findings, dreaming of godhood of one fashion or another. He lavishes in the authority he wields over the paupers in his purview, as he orders them to die day by day at the hands of the Haris Alkhalyfa, taking their knowledge of his experiments to their graves. As he inches closer to the formula for divinity, he is filled with glee. In anticipation of his coming ascension, he intends to seize the throne for himself, and therefore takes every opportunity to swear his unerring allegiance to the Young Stag, demonstrating his false devotion with empty reassurances as he races to finish his task before Harold the second can properly seize power.

TL;DR: this dude named Alcott drinks a berserkirs hallucinogens that put him in his berserkir state, assumes that it provided godhood on par with The Monarch's and, not satisfied with a mere taste of power, proceeds to abuse his station as a prince-priest to experiment on the impoverished soldiers in his care with ambitions of seizing the throne himself. It'd possibly result in something like a primitive version of nazi meth.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Nicholas

---

Nic slipped into the elevator with the rest of the crew, lamenting the loss of life by biting his lower hard as if he were trying to cut a steel cable with his teeth. Seeing the puddle of person that had so recently been one of his own kind compelled him to start holding his breath, locking his lungs tight and throwing away the key, just in case he'd inhale their remains on accident. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Archie, diagonol to Lynn luminescent skull, as they were joined by a couple of beta male Spire employees. Making himself as large as possible, he finally gave a yawn, raising his arms and shuddering violently as the shock of fresh air flash-froze his waterlogged brain, stretching out until the workers settled in, staring at the door.

ATTENTION. PARAHUMAN PSYCHIATRIC WARD CONTAINMENT BREACH. ALL PERSONELLE RETURN TO NEAREST SHELTER AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION

"That'll wake you up!" the first Spire worker shouted.

"Just another day in paradise, eh," the closer drone huffed, elbowing Nic in the ribs. "I don't get paid enough for this shit."

Nic felt a navy blue surge through his nerves as his entire intestinal tract reared up on it's hind legs and whinnied. He felt every muscle in his body tense while his fingers rolled tighter than the newspapers his father used to beat his mother with.

ATTENTION. PARAHUMAN PSYCHIATRIC WARD CONTAINMENT BREACH. ALL PERSONELLE RETURN TO NEAREST SHELTER AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION

It suddenly became apparent exactly how inconspicuous he wasn't, as he tasted a bead of sweat slump into his mouth. He felt the tang of gasoline torching his taste buds as the sweet stink of napalm wafted into his nostrils, down from his sticky, flaky, upright, inch-long einstein hair. Underneath the labcoat, he felt the plastic residue and breadcrumbs itch like his arms were overrun with roaches.

ATTENTION. PARAHUMAN PSYCHIATRIC WARD CONTAINMENT BREACH. ALL PERSONELLE RETURN TO NEAREST SHELTER AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION

He took a gander at the Spire worker to his left and got to work dissecting the man as if his eyes were scalpels. Bad posture. Hasn't shaven in days. The subject must've mistakenly thought that maybe if he used enough Axe body spray nobody would be able to smell the bourbon on his collar. He was wrong. Based on a cursory glance, the man had spilled more on his own labcoat than Nic could hope to have ingested off of an entire platter of the Jell-O shots at the bonfire.

What a shame, he thought as the doors slid open with a ding, and the worker drones haggardly skittered down the hall to who-knows-where. Actually, Nic knew exactly where they were going: the floor's safe room, right next to their lounge.

Right after that, the crew casually power walked down the hall to their own destination, where they were faced with a locked door. Taking a quick look at it, he recognized that its manufacturer matched the very same doors he'd helped his father install in the militia compound's armory back in Nebraska.

"Lynn, Natalie, do you think you could break it down?"

"She should be able to if she gets two inches deep right here," Nic said, producing a Sharpie and waving a faint black circle onto the steel, "and doesn't sever the wire here," he said, laying an X an inch to the right. "That'll keep it locked."

Winter Tales

The Hero Of The Chocolate Wars

Sir Leopold Fitzpatrick

" It was the sweetness of your skin, it was the hope of all we might have been
that filled me with the hope to wish impossible things" – To Wish Impossible Things, The Cure

Full Name: Sir Leopold Fitzpatrick // Nickname(s): Hero of The Chocolate Wars, Leo
Age: 28 // Birthday: December 2nd
Orientation: Heterosexual // Gender: Male
Species: Human // Hometown: Ghent, Belgium

Description: Born to a pair of world-renowned chocolatiers, Leopold spent much of his time aiding his parents in running the shop before a ruthless cartel of renegade chocolate makers began piecing together a monopoly on the supply of Alpine Cacao, assassinating anyone who got in their way. Incensed by this violation of the free market, Leopold tracked them all the way to the peak of Mount Elbrus, where he fought a bitter battle against the forces of the immortal warlock Grigori Rasputin using little more than a series of bows and arrows he’d crafted from the Alpine Cacao trees and his own inexhaustible creativity. After landing several dozen mortal wounds on the wizard over the course of several years, Rasputin’s forces withdrew from the chocolate trade. Having restored the supply of cacao to the region, Belgium’s GDP doubled, and Leopold was hailed as a hero, being the first of a generation to be knighted by his nation. In the time since, he has traveled across Europe as an impromptu knight errant before finally stumbling upon the charming settlement of Lemmas Peak.

Likes: Chocolate Chivalry Archery Jane Austen Disco	Dislikes Splinters Beauracracy Literal Tower Defense Silence Computers

Other: He speaks Dutch, English, French and German. Carries a quiver of alchemically specialized trick arrows, healing chocolate, and wears a golden locket. The grim reaper owes him a favor and he has worked, on occasion, as an independent contractor for the United Nations.

Winter Tales

The Hero Of The Chocolate Wars

Sir Leopold Fitzpatrick

" It was the sweetness of your skin, it was the hope of all we might have been
that filled me with the hope to wish impossible things" – To Wish Impossible Things, The Cure

Full Name: Sir Leopold Fitzpatrick // Nickname(s): Hero of The Chocolate Wars, Leo
Age: 28 // Birthday: December 2nd
Orientation: Heterosexual // Gender: Male
Species: Human // Hometown: Ghent, Belgium

Description: Born to a pair of world-renowned chocolatiers, Leopold spent much of his time aiding his parents in running the shop before a ruthless cartel of renegade chocolate makers began piecing together a monopoly on the supply of Alpine Cacao, assassinating anyone who got in their way. Incensed by this violation of the free market, Leopold tracked them all the way to the peak of Mount Elbrus, where he fought a bitter battle against the forces of the immortal warlock Grigori Rasputin using little more than a series of bows and arrows he’d crafted from the Alpine Cacao trees and his own inexhaustible creativity. After landing several dozen mortal wounds on the wizard over the course of several years, Rasputin’s forces withdrew from the chocolate trade. Having restored the supply of cacao to the region, Belgium’s GDP doubled, and Leopold was hailed as a hero, being the first of a generation to be knighted by his nation. In the time since, he has traveled across Europe as an impromptu knight errant before finally stumbling upon the charming settlement of Lemmas Peak.

Likes: Chocolate Chivalry Archery Jane Austen Disco	Dislikes Splinters Beauracracy Literal Tower Defense Silence Computers

Other: He speaks Dutch, English, French and German. Carries a quiver of alchemically specialized trick arrows, healing chocolate, and wears a golden locket. The grim reaper owes him a favor and he has worked, on occasion, as an independent contractor for the United Nations.

King of the Hill: Boiled Mountain Dew Electric Boogaloo II

"I"m pretty sure it's got propane in it, dad," Bobby said, blowing a clean puff of sweet, cinnamon-scented steam Hank's way. "I don't see how you could get any charcoal in there. It's so small," he said, waving it in front of his face. "Grandpa told me that he went around the world and checked and there are only so many great men who could make something like that work but they're all on our side. He made sure of that."

At that moment, Bobby felt his thigh tremble. He took a swig of the ultra-sweet craft beer to boost his blood sugar before realizing that it wasn't his diabetes. GH was just keeping up their streak on Snapchat. "Hold on a minute, dad. I gotta check this. It might be important."

King of the Hill: Boiled Mountain Dew Electric Boogaloo II

Fidget spinner in hand, Bobby stepped off of his Italian imported moped and made his way to the fence where the boys had congregated. Hitting his Juul during the walk, he rubbed a sympathetic hand on his own aching lower back, which had been his ticket home on medical separation from his service in the National Reserves. Days like these, little was more refreshing than cracking open a nice, cold one.

"Well," Bobby croaked as he pulled an ice cold can of craft brew out of his fanny pack, "I hear she has a weird-shaped thumb, Mr. Dauterive."

King of the Hill: Boiled Mountain Dew Electric Boogaloo II

How about Adult Bobby? It kinda requires that either the crew be older than in the show or this Bobby come from some kind of future (which works better if there are other fantasy elements thrown in) but it's just a possibility.

Winter Tales

Is there anyone here who might be interested in this?

@Chuuya

There is!

I've never really done anything this warm or generally kindly in premise before but I think it might be a refreshing change of pace for my tastes and I've similarly never really done much for the holidays but in recent years the frigid reaches of Winter have warmed my heart and claimed their place as my favorite season.

Couple questions:

• Would the players be taking on the role of Lemmas' residents, the human visitors or some mix thereof?
• Is there any reference material I should familiarize myself with to get relevant context for the setting?

Wal Quest - Interactive Post Apocalyptic Quest

[X] - Ivory Crane, a monstrously huge paper odachi that is said to be crafted from compressed origami sheets. It is relatively lightweight for its enormous size but is considered to be unwieldy in close quarters. It more than makes up for it with a blade that can bisect a Stocker in half with enough force. It has seen battle with the edge have dulled over years of usage.