Oblivious, I'm trying comedy. Again! Options

[Colonel Mustard]

Right, I've been inspired by Brian Clevinger's utterly, er, inspirational webcomic, 8-bit Theatre, and I've decided to try my hand at doing comedy in the Elder Scrolls setting (again). Only this time I intend to stick with it.

Like I stuck with it last time...

Oblivious

Chapter 1

The currents that make up the infernal, twisted realm of Oblivion flow stronger and faster than ever before. Deep within its darkest depths, fiends and monsters gather under the banner of their twisted patron, ready to spill forth in a tide of madness and evil that will surely destroy the entire realm. Only a band of heroes, heroes who shall face a thousand trials and emerge triumphant, can stand against this evil.

Four warriors of doughty and virtuous resolve needed, please apply at the gates of Anvil Castle before three o'clock 14th Hearthfire. Reward promised.

“Well,” Hlarras said as he read the notice. “That looks promising.”

O'Nigel nodded.

“It does, doesn't it?” he said. “I wander what they'll provide in the way of reward.”

“I don't know,” Hlarras said. “Usually it's something good. The save the kingdom from unspecified evil gig generally pays well.”

“Perhaps,” O'Nigel mused. “But we'd still need two more people before we can apply.”

“True,” Hlarrar said. The dark elf frowned. “But where are we going to find two adventurers who are willing become meatshields, sorry, companions, with us in our quest application.”

“The guilds?” O'Nigel asked. “They always seem to have a large supply of cheap and disposable manpower.”

“Now, now, O'Nigel,” Hlarras said admonishingly. “The guilds have provided Cyrodiil with some valuable and much needed heroes in times past.”

There was a silence, before the two of them burst out laughing.

Once they had recovered from their fit of hilarity, Hlarras nodded.

“Let's see what we can pick up,” he said.

#

As Dunmer and orc approached Anvil's fighter's guild building, they saw a band of four men go past. They were grizzled and scarred, coated in muscle and looking ready to fight anything.

“You reckon they're out for the Oblivion job?” Hlarras asked.

“I'm not sure,” O'Nigel said, adjusting his monocle to get a better look at the men. “Then again they look ready to complete any quest, however perilous.”

“Pah,” Hlarras said. “They're just power levellers and dungeon divers, let me tell you. I bet you they just play World of Warcraft all the time.”

“Probably all have headsets just so they can chat with their 'buddies,'” O'Nigel said. “Probably haven't got girlfriends.”

“I bet you they only paid for their ultra-powerful weapons and high weapons,” Hlarras said, seeming to lose heart slightly.

“And can breeze their way through a dungeon full of mooks,” O'Nigel said quietly. “I want to be like them.”

“I know,” Hlarras replied in a small voice.

“Let's see if we can find somebody at the fighter's guild, shall we?” O'Nigel asked. “We need to apply fast if they are.”

“Well why not just ask at the mage's guild?” Hlarras asked. “Bound to be somebody there who can help us get that job?”

“What's that about a job?” somebody asked behind them. Hlarras and O'Nigel turned to see an imperial, rearing the grubby green robes of a low ranking mage, hurry up behind them. “I need a job.”

“Really,” Hlarras said. “We're applying for a dangerous quest, you see. What can you bring to the group?”

“I can bring a knowledge of all magical schools to this group,” the man said. “I was with the guild, you see, before they chucked me out.”

“Why was that?” O'Nigel said.

“Apparently tampering with the laws of space and time in order to increase my skills in destruction magic is unethical,” the imperial replied.

“Okay,” Hlarras said. “Just a minute.”

He hurried a few paces away with O'Nigel.

“Manipulating the laws of space and time?” he asked. “Did I hear that right?”

“That's what I heard,” O'Nigel said. “That could come in useful.”

“Tell me about it,” Hlarras said. “Should he come?”

“I don't see why not then,” O'Nigel said.

“Excellent,” Hlarras said, clapping hands together and turning around. “Welcome aboard mr...”

“Antius,” the man replied. “Antius Nuntius.”

“Hlarras Laran,” Hlarras said.

“Agrad Leck O'Nigel,” O'Nigel said. “But call me O'Nigel.”

“Nice to meet you,” Antius said. “So what exactly is it that you're doing?”

“There's some quest to save Cyrodiil that we can apply for at the castle,” Hlarras explained. “But we need four people to join up.”

“Ah, the good old save the kingdom deal,” Antius said. “So who else is with you?”

“Nobody yet,” Hlarras said.

“Usually in classical fiction the fourth member of the quest is a more pacifistic healer character,” O'Nigel said. “Usually a second mage of some sort.”

“Sometimes it can be a cleric or priest,” Antius suggested. “Maybe we could try the chapel here, seeing as we already have a mage.”

“Who we don't know is any good,” Hlarras muttered.

“What was that?” Antius asked.

“Nothing,” Hlarras replied innocuously. “So are we going to find somebody else?”

They continued their walk through Anvil's busy streets, towards the chapel.

“Hold on, aren't they all pacifists or something here?” Hlarras asked.

“It is a chapel of Dibella,” O'Nigel said. “They do have the best healers there.”

“Oh, hippies,” Hlarras said disapprovingly. “Still, they do have good healers, it's true.”

“Hold on,” Antius asked. “If they're all pacifists, why would they join a quest that would inevitably involve killing things?”

“That's a good point you have there,” Hlarras said. “And so I choose to ignore it.”

“Is he always like this?” Antius asked O'Nigel.

“Pretty much,” the orc replied. “I find it's best just to let him be.”

“Ah, right,” Antius said.

“So are we going to stand here, or are we going to find a priest?” Hlarras asked.

“Technically it's a cleric we want,” O'Nigel said. “As clerics are a combat-orientated kind of priest that often accompanies soldiers into wars to provide moral and spiritual support.”

“Although chaplains also fulfil that role sometimes,” Antius said.

“That's true,” O'Nigel said. “Of course, it could be argued that missionaries...”

“That's lovely,” Hlarras said curtly. “Especially seeing as nobody cares and this is getting us nowhere.”

“He's got you there,” Antius said.

“You were taking part in that conversation,” Hlarras growled.

He stalked away, O'Nigel and Antius following him quickly.

“You think we're going to find a cleric?” O'Nigel asked Antius.

“I don't know,” Antius asked. “Of course, it could be a chap-”

He was cut short by Hlarras screaming; “SHUT UP!!”

[Colonel Mustard]

Chapter 2

The three men hurried towards the chapel, determined to find a cleric (or possibly chaplain, or maybe a priest). When they reached the chapel, however, they discovered something was wrong.

Their first clue was the watchman standing outside the door to the chapel.

“You don't want to go in there,” he warned. “It's not pretty, believe me.”

“What happened?” O'Nigel asked.

“Alright, look inside,” the guard said. “But don't say I didn't warn you.”

Pensively, the Hlarras pushed the door open, to be greeted by a shout of; “IT'S ALL LIES!!!”

The dark elf flinched back as a redguard stormed out. He looked angry. Very angry.

“That was the not very pretty thing?” Hlarras asked the guard.

“Oh yes,” he said. “Ricardo can get very angry during theological arguments.”

“So this is regular?” Hlarras queried, looking slightly worried.

“That's right,” the guard said. “I'm posted here every week to get things out of hand.”

“So he's a priest then?” Hlarras asked.

“More of a cleric, really,” the guard said. “Or perhaps he's a missi-GHURK!!”

“I found a cleric,” Hlarras said to Antius and O'Nigel a short while later. “It was that guy who stormed out of the chapel just now.”

“I see,” O'Nigel said. “And why is the guard over there lying a pool of blood and with a gigantic hole in his face.”

“Face hemorrhage,” Hlarras replied.

“A face hemorrhage,” O'Nigel said.

“Yes,” Hlarras said. “A face hemorrhage.”

“You do realise that's medically impossible,” Antius said.

“You get brain hemorrhages, don't you?” Hlarras replied. “So why not face hemorrhages?”

“If that's a face hemorrhage, then why is there a dagger in it?” O'Nigel asked.

“Because, er, because he panicked and grabbed his dagger to try and stem the bleeding,” Hlarras replied.

“But that's one of your daggers,” O'Nigel said. “And why would a city guard have a dagger when their equipment is a standard sword, shield and chain mail? And it makes even less sense considering you're an assassin and thus specialise in using weapons such as daggers.”

“Look, look,” Hlarras said. “Who had a face hemorrhage got stabbed in the face is not important here. Right now we need to find that cleric guy.”

“He might be a-”

“Shut up.”

#

They found the redguard sitting on one of the benches looking despondent.

“Is that him?” O'Nigel asked.

“Breastplate, white robes and a mace?” Hlarras said. “Got to be.”

“What about the arguments about theology?” Antius asked. “What if he's really bad tempered or something.”

“Can't win 'em all,” Hlarras replied, shrugging.

“True,” O'Nigel said. “I mean, I'm a berseker. I fly into a frothing at the mouth rage whenever I go into battle. I'd say that was bad tempered.”

“What?” Antius asked. “But you seem perfectly normal.”

“I simply don't let my job take over my life,” O'Nigel replied. “Just because I'm a berserker it doesn't mean I can't devote my spare time to the appreciation of literature, the arts, and the high pursuit of chess.”

“He plays chess?” Antius asked Hlarras.

“Very well,” the dark elf replied.

“I don't get you,” Antius said carefully.

“Welcome to my world,” Hlarras said, clapping the mage on the shoulder. “It's absolutely insane and I've desired its apocalypse for longer than I can remember.”

Antius shuffled away from the dark elf.

“So are we going to talk to that cleric guy over there?” he asked O'Nigel.

“Might as well,” the orc said. “You there!” He called out to the redguard. “Are you looking for a job and happen to be able to ignore horrific violence being enacted by people who you name as your companions?”

“What?” the redguard asked, looking baffled at O'Nigel's utterly bizarre question.

“Do you want to join our band of questing heroes?” Hlarras asked.

“Er, okay,” the redguard said slowly. “What about the horrific violence though?”

“Well there's bound to fights with monsters and stuff,” Antius said.

“Not to mention the fact that lots of people will be caught in the crossfire of our fight with evil, and there may be some random murders for goods when I'm in town,” Hlarras added. “Goods that are, in reality, utterly worthless.”

O'Nigel gave him an irritated look.

“What?” Hlarras asked. “I'm just warning the guy. It's bound to happen.”

“The depressing thing is that it will,” O'Nigel muttered. “So, you want to join our club.”

“It saves you having arguments over theological matters,” Antius chipped in.

“What exactly are you lot doing?” the redguard asked.

“There's a save the kingdom job available at the castle,” O'Nigel said. “Only it's a four man thing and traditionally a group with a wizard, a berserker and an assassin character take a cleric or healer or some sort.”

“Oh, I'm a chaplain, I'm afraid,” the redguard said. Hlarras twitched.

“Not a problem,” O'Nigel said. “Chaplains and clerics often fulfill very similar roles.”

“Look, do you want to join us, save the world and get masses of fame and riches or not?” Hlarras asked. “Easy choice.”

The redguard thought for a moment.

“Alright,” he said getting up from his bench. “Anything's better than going back to that group of enlightened fools.”

“Hold on, did you just say 'enlightened' fools?” Antius asked. “Don't you mean 'unenlightened?'”

“No, enlightened,” the redguard replied. “When are they going to realise that the gods they worship are simply convenient lies used to provide 'logical' explanations of the world and to give idiots and excuse to give the money?”

“Hold on,” Hlarras said. “You don't believe in gods?”

“Of course not,” the redguard said. “If you think about it, the entire concept is completely illogical.”

Hlarras thought about it for a moment.

“Well there goes a lifetime spent worshiping an illegal deity of murder and bloodshed,” he muttered.

“So what's your name?” Antius asked.

“Rekard,” the redguard replied. “Rekard Derkwin.”

“Right, Rekard, shall we get down to the castle?” O'Nigel said. “We need to get that job.”

The four men hurried towards the castle, ready to take the job that could change their lives and save the universe.

It had already been taken.

“Oh come on!” Hlarras yelled. “We spent all this time for nothing! Who the hell got it?”

“I don't know,” O'Nigel said. “Probably those four.”

He pointed at the four men him and Hlarras had seen earlier. One of them was talking about the quest being easy.

“What do we do then?” Antius asked.

“I say we kill them,” Hlarras said. The others gave him an odd look. “What? The job will be open again, then we can fill it.”

“Is he always like this?” Rekard asked O'Nigel.

“Pretty much,” O'Nigel said.

“Oh.”

“So how are we going to kill them?” Hlarras asked. “I say we lure them into a back alley and do it.”

“You always want to lure them into a back alley,” O'Nigel said.

“I work well with back alleys,” Hlarras replied stubbornly.

“Fine, we'll get them in a back alley,” O'Nigel sighed.

“Excellent,” Hlarras said, rubbing his hands together.

The four quickly trailed the other adventurers, Hlarras climbing on top a rooftop to get a better view. Soon the adventurers were where the four wanted them to be-a long dark back alley.

“Alright,” Hlarras muttered, drawing an arrow and nocking it to his bow. “GET THEM!!”