>>1988674
>>Reply to the crowd. Try to calm them down. You're not a bad person really.
I'm sure we didn't even do anything THAT bad

>>1988674
>Reply to the crowd. Try to calm them down. You're not a bad person really.

>>1988674
>Reply to the crowd. Try to calm them down. You're not a bad person really.

>>1988674
>Reply to the crowd. Try to calm them down. You're not a bad person really.

You hold up one hand in a gesture of gentle indignation, and affix a warm and benevolent smile, then pause for a moment.

"Hey," you say in a lazily refined drawl. "Hey now. Let's all, just, chill out."

The baying of the crowd dies down a little, as does the stick-brandishing. Even the pie-throwers seem to decide that their budgets won't stretch to wasting any more good food.

"Everyone just calm down. You know... I'm not the one you want. I'm on _your_ side."

You pause again to allow suffice time for your revelation to sink in.

"The truth is," you continue, "actually, I'm a peasant as well. That's right. A member of the disgruntled criminal classes."

You feel yourself beginning to get into the flow of things.

"The worst thing we can do, the VERY WORST THING we can do right now, right, is to _divide_ ourselves. That's what _they_ want. We've all to work together" - you gesture vaguely with your hands - "we've all got to help one another and, together, we can bring in the new tomorrow. Let's stand together, my dear brothers."

There is a lull. They seem to be thinking things over. You might just get away with this. After all, the stupidity of the peasantry is the foundation of empire. But then, a voice from the crowd shouts:

"Piss off mate!"

Quickly the crowd become enraged, more maddened and bloodthirsty than at the start. From below, you can hear the sounds of kicking and beating at the wooden doors.

>Look for a way to escape
>Look for a place to hide
>Meet the crowd nobly at the door, sword in hand

>>1988833
>Look for a way to escape
I doubt this character has any skills whatsoever so lets run lol.

>>1988833
>>Look for a way to escape

>>1988833

>Look for a way to escape

>>1988833
>Try to escape

Well, the mob is mobbing and the future's not looking bright. Guess it's time to make an orderly evacuation. Bloody _peasants_. Now then, what are your options? Mmmmm? There's, ahh, the roof. The roof is definitely a thing that there is. Doesn't really go anyway, unfortunately. Bit of a design oversight.

Then, the street? Well, the street goes somewhere, principally away, so that's a little happy face in the pros list. However, the street is rather occupied by people you wouldn't like to meet right now, not even a little soiree or theatre meet.

Hmm... on the ground floor of the villa, there's a kitchen where the cook work their humble skills producing, oh, pastries and smoked fish and suchlike. That seems to be the right sort of place to head for - but there's no time to waste.

Rushing down the stairs, you hurry past the shaking double doors. They're in rather worse shape than you'd have hoped, and holes are starting to appear, through which loud jeers can be heard. Stumbling into the kitchen - which is empty, you guess the servants all joined the mob -, you take a quick look around the shelves and tables. Finding a cook's apron on a stool, you throw it on as a bit of disguise. You figure you can grab one other thing before your "ardent critics" show themselves for a bit of _cutting_ debate, but you don't want waste too much time.

Before making your escape, you grab...

>A cleaver, good for keeping things at arm's length
>A small bag of salt, you heard salt was worth a bit
>A bottle of wine, probably quite nice

>>1988943
>>A small bag of salt, you heard salt was worth a bit
Fucking peasants

>>1988943
>A bottle of wine, probably quite nice

>>1988943
>>A cleaver, good for keeping things at arm's length

>>1988943
>A small bag of salt, you heard salt was worth a bit

For some reason, salt is pretty highly valued. You guess it makes things float a bit better... and it, goes on, oh, oysters... frankly from a culinary perspective, you'd rather have the wine, but at least the salt is nice and light.

Stashing the salt, you blunder onto the street just as the door lets out a pitiful crunching noise and a din of expletives, poorly-formed bellows and sentiments such as "spear the gobshite" spill into the building from the porch.

On the street it's well, a bit cold considering you're wearing only your underwear and a cook's apron. But your first priority is to put a bit of distance between you and your pursuers. You powerwalk quickly - QUICKLY - away from the villa, not daring to look back. After some time, you arrive at the Contani Square, a great open space full of the sort of things that would make an architect rock hard: there are some smooth columns topped with eagles; golden statues of lions, their teeth bared; and a tasteful ring of well-groomed trees around the edge. But right now, the square has been consumed by a swirling congregation of rioters and vandals, creating a formless din.

>Keep moving on
>Talk to someone. You're sure you could imitate a commoner's action, it's awfully base and simple
>Mill around a bit, brandish a bit, yell a bit, try to blend in

>>1989042
>>Talk to someone. You're sure you could imitate a commoner's action, it's awfully base and simple

>>1989042
>Keep moving on
Ya know, find someone from your family.

>>1989042
>>Keep moving on

>>1989042
Keep moving on.

Maybe we can find a drunk in some alley and steal his clothes or something.

>>1989042
>>Talk to someone. You're sure you could imitate a commoner's action, it's awfully base and simple

Turning to a typically scruffy commoner, distinguishable only by his absurdly thick and bushy eyebrows, you venture forth in the common tongue:

"Cor blimey gov'na, ain't this just -uh- the works an' all?"

He seems a little nonplussed. Probably his peasant mind couldn't handle talking and brandishing at once and shut down.

"It's a bloody riot, mate," he replies. "We want blood, yeah?"

"Ah," you respond a little tentatively, "um, right on, old boy- I mean, bro. That's, uh, really mad sick."

Suddenly a commotion strikes up at the front of the square. A middle-aged couple in purple togas are dragged from a grandly-built house and forced into the centre of the square. With a shock, you realise that they are your aunt and uncle, senior members of the royal family. Where are the guard?! They are pushed down into a kneeling position by the thugs.

>Try to intervene
>Do nothing
>Leave the square, you don't want to see this

>>1989102
>>1989119
>>1989126
Sorry, guys. I've been waiting 15 minutes before counting votes. If you want, I can increase that time, but it'll mean that installments take longer.

>>1989135
Throw salt in the eyes of some assailants, quickly pick up your relatives and run like your trying to escape plutos arse.

>>1989140
Its cool, keep the 15 mins

>>1989135
Wait for an opportunity to intervene, if at all possible. See if you can find out who's instigating the mob against the royal family.

>>1989140
Fast responses are good. Let's see if we can keep pace.

>>1989135
>>Try to intervene

>>1989148
this, if we get an opportunity, sure, but it would be suicide

>>1989185
I just mean in case someone starts addressing the crowd about the evils of the royal family or yelling a Senator's name as the just alternative to the oppressive Imperial house or something.

>>1989135
> intervene
Bluffing here
>" I know a nice river we can throw them in, just a bit of a walk out of the gates."

>>1989135
>Look for an opportunity to intervene

Leaving your lower-class companion, you sidle forward into the front of the crowd, making sure to jeer a bit to blend in. Hopefully there'll be some moment when the thugs lost focus, and then you can... well, you'll think of something. The mob is booing and throwing fruit, which hits the captives and bursts on them, causing raucous laughter from the onlookers.

Then "SHUT UP!" shout the thugs. "The boss is gonna speak! Everyone quiet for Talto!"

A crate is passed in from the spectators, quickly upturned and laid on the ground, and onto it steps a man. You'd guess he was in his 30s, with a dark beard and eyes that dart here and there like a fish; he wears a grey cloak. The din quietens, and the man begins to speak.

"People of the city," he announces. "Today we rise, and rise anew: with power in our arms and strength in our purpose. No more do the... _tyrants_ rule this land. No more!"

A cheer goes up. There is more tiresome brandishing. The speaker motions for quiet.

"Do you see these," he gestures towards your relatives, "these _villains_?"

There is a tirade of boos.

"These CRIMINALS! These two pieces of SCUM have been living the high life. Guzzling wine and caviar every day, sending the slaves for more candied cherries, when we don't even have enough bread to fill our mouths." He turns to them.

"What do you have to say for yourselves?! Eh?!"

They say nothing, keeping their eyes fixed on the ground as the thugs hold their hair. Motioning to the thugs, he says: "Take them away. In the morning, there will be a _trial_." His mouth turns up in a mocking smile.

>Keep moving. Perhaps they'll just be kept as prisoners.
>Follow the thugs. There could be a chance to distract them in an alleyway.
>Voice some dissent. After all, a debate doesn't involve having to bludgeon large armed men.

>>1989288
>>Follow the thugs. There could be a chance to distract them in an alleyway.

>>1989288
>Follow the thugs.

At a distance. We need to find some clothing and armament before we start trying to spring our relatives for real.

>>1989304
>>1989306
This.

>>1989288
>Follow the thugs (at a distance)

The thugs grab your relatives and march them away. Allowing a distance of about a third of a street, you slink after them, bearing in mind that your choice of attire is not ideal.

The group are heading north, through the tiled streets with their walls of houses. With a start, you realise that you're heading into the slums. The elegant stonework of the centre of the city has been replaced by decaying woodwork, and the air has filled with the sharp smell of urine. Tall towers of rundown apartments are surrounded by makeshift shacks; the streets are linked with beggars and rough sleepers.

You keep an eye out for anywhere you could get some suitable clothes, and eventually find a drunkard lying in a gutter. His threadbare coat is inconspiciously filthy, but,,, it smells so, so bad.

The thugs head into one of these apartment buildings, leaving you to figure out what to do now.

>Go after the thugs, into the building
>Stake out the building, wait for the thugs to leave
>Leave the area, look for a weapon and return later

>>1989400
>>Stake out the building, wait for the thugs to leave
Even a couple. The rest, we could probably figure out how to take out

Lets not wait too long

>>1989400
Stake out the building, wait for the thugs to leave

>>1989400
Do we have any princely military or swordsmanship training?

>>1989420
Yeah, but you're not Jaime Lannister or anything. You're more like one of those fencing wankers who says "en guarde" before hitting anyone.

>>1989431
Maybe if we started fucking our sister we'd hit Jamie Lannister levels. Can I roll a d100 to fuck our sister? Do we have a sister? We need to acquire a sister.

>>1989440
Not even romans commonly fucked their sisters.
>>1989400
>Leave the area, look for a weapon and return later.
The trial will be in the morninng. Even a as a shitty fighter having a weapon will help.

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>>1989448
MFW nobody remembers the legacy of Roman royal blood

>>1989471
commonly motherfucker kek, commonly.

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>>1989496
>be a prince
>have your behavior compared to common practices

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>1989440
Can confirm, watched HBO's Rome, rolling to fuck sister and become mastermind

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>>1989528
It wasn't common for nobles either...

>>1989400
and

>stake out the building

>>1989400
>Stake out the building, wait for the thugs to leave

For a while you lurk in the shadows behind a street corner. Surprisingly, only three people come up to you and try to sell you sex / a guard dog / their children. After some time, a few guards come out of the apartment and linger by the doorway, passing a bottle of wine between them and talking amongst themselves.

"Where'd do get this?" asks one. "Back of a horse?"
"Better than what I made your mum drink last night," retorts the other.
"Shut the fuck up about my mum!"
"Ahhh," says the third in a thick rural accent, "the stars are out tonight..."
"You had a bit too much, mate?" asks the second.
"That's it, I gotta take a piss," says the first, and weaves his way drunkenly from the apartment - right towards your hiding place!

>Hide and wait for the guard to leave
>Hide and then ambush the guard
>Approach the guard under pretence and try to get friendly with him

>>1989559
>Hide and then ambush the guard
Wait until he's out of their eye and earshot, throw salt in his eyes when he's mid-piss, take his weapon and open his head or throat.

Then take his clothes and money and get in that building.

>>1989571
>>1989559
Perfect.

>>1989559
>>Hide and then ambush the guard
See if we can go for his weapon

Then we can approach the guards and tell them the leader of the rebellion or whatever needs men, and we can guard the prisoners

>>1989571
oh man lol

I love having you guys here

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>>1989550
>can't tell the difference between nobles and royalty
Jupiter Capitolinus save me from this rabble

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>>1989601
Wasn't common amongst royality either. How long are we going to play this game?

>>1989625
Until we get our dicks wet

>>1989629
OP, GET THIS MAN SOME NON SISTERLY PUSSY.

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>>1989625
I can't hear you over the sound of me fucking your wife, patrician cuck. Try and speak up?

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>>1989647
I'm so sorry I cant hear you over the praetorian guards stabbiing you to death come again?

>>1989559
The guard wends his merry way over to the darkness of the street corner. You sidle backwards into a shadow behind him. The guard lurches into the alley and leans heavily against the wall as he starts to piss. The smell helps to cover the stench of your cloak.

Quietly, quietly, you creep up on the guard, and take the bag of salt from your underwear (which is where you've been keeping it). You gather your courage, and then...

Roll me 2d6 for success.

Rolled 6, 6 = 12 (2d6)

>>1989661

>>1989661
Sorry that post was so small and late, something came up. We'll be getting back up to speed from now on.

>>1989663
This is how true nobility rolls.

>>1989663
wew

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>>1989663
Wow mate

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>>1989656
Hang on, just have to get this itchy Castra Praetoria out of my city. That should quiet things down enough to resume our conversation.

Now what was that you said about killing a member of the Royal house?

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>>1989663
Seeing as you have thrown a double-six, I will stay your execution for your crimes.

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>>1989683
Just watch your back.
>>1989691
So are you rping emperor now because you wannna fuck your sister?

>>1989661

You lunge at the guard, feeling yourself move with a huge speed and purposefulness that you've never managed / been bothered to unleash before. Grabbing the guard from behind, one arm around his throat, you throw the salt in his eyes and simultanously push his jaw upwards to muffle his screams of pain. You grab his shortsword from his belt and quickly, cleanly slit his throat. With his blood coursing over your hand, you strip off his coat and lower him onto the floor.

Then you feel sick, but you struggle to focus on the task in hand. You collect the sword from the floor, then take a moment to calm yourself and steady your trembling arms. Then, you stride with false confidence towards the apartment.

(Cont.)

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>>1989718
Actually, as soon as the coronation was over the urge took hold. I think it must be the regalia, it's probably cursed or something.

Say, if you can solve this problem I'll grant you a consulate in that new province we just conquered! Britannia, right? Go on, do me a solid.

>>1989737
"Greetings... lads," you bellow in a consciously rough voice. "This is the place yer keepin' these fuckers, then?"

Of the two guards, the city-dweller loks at you with suspicion.

"Who the fuck are you, mate?" he demands.

"I'm... Terigon. Talto sent me down to check up on ya."

You prepare to manufacture another crude phrase.

"But now, I find you sittin' on yer ARSES!"

You stride up to the guard, a bulky and tattooed man, and grab him by the shirt. Putting your face next to his, you belllow: "YOU'RE FUCKIN' PISSED YA CUNT!!! Get the fuck outta here!"

Intimidated, he slinked off into the gloom, sparing only an occasional "fuck you mate" in riposte as he leaves. "Country guard" seems to be pretty sozzled, slumped against the wall.

>Go inside
>Talk to the drunk guard
>Shout into the building

>>1989786
>Talk to the drunk guard
Oi, which floor did ya bring those snobs too. I Hope you left some guards with them YA LAZY FACKS.

>>1989815
sure

>>1989786
Seconding >>1989815

Talk to the drunk guard.

See if you can get some useful information out of him.

>>1989786
You sit down by the guard. It's a warm summer's evening, but uncomfortably humid. You nudge him, and say:

"Oi, mate. Where are ya keepin' them snobs?"

He half-turns to you.

"Mmmm?"

"Wake the fuck up! Listen, mate, what floor are they on? The posh gits from the big house?"

"The big house..." he echoes. "We took a lot of stuff outta that house."

That doesn't surprise you.

"Right, right, serves the bastards proper," you agree, "but what floor are they on?"

"It's up... up the stairs." He closes his eyes and slumps back against the wall. "Up the first bit of stairs." Guess that means the first floor.

It doesn't seem like you're going to get much more information out of him.

>Press for more info
>Go inside
>Shout inside

>>1989936
>>Go inside

>>1989936
Right so I have an idea but its risky. Kill the drunk guy, shout inside and pretend like the killed ran away "that way". But they don't know us so they might easily suspect us....

either that or just go inside.

>>1989936
>>Go inside
We can kill him on the way out if he's any trouble.

>>1989957
I like your thinking but I think they'd just be likelier to go on lockdown and strengthen the guard than chase after some killer.

>>1989936
>Go inside

Heading inside, you're by a stench of stale wine and wood rot. The walls are covered in mold, and cockroaches are scuttling around your feet. A few candles shed some dim light into the room. Sitting at the table playing with knucklebones are a couple of other thugs; one of them has a nose too large for his face and the other bears a large scar on his arm. Both of them are covered in tattoos: of ships, of snakes, even a severed head with bleeding eyes in red ink.

The larger of the two rises and asks "You got business here, mate?" He draws his sword.

"Talto sent me down here," you lie again, "to check on you slackers. On the way in here, I found three guards pissed. Two of 'em even fucked off soon as I got here."

"How come I never seen ya around, then, huh? What's a new guy doing checkin' up on us?"

>Write-in

>>1990051
Apparently he trusts me to get the job done, and I can see why now! You got drunks guarding your prisoners. Do you know how easy it would be for someone to sneak in here to release the prisoners? Let me verify that the prisoners are ACTUALLY here so I can go back to my job.

>>1990051
Because you are not supposed to. Because I'm the guy Talto sends when people like you are likely to fuck up. Because you are so much further below me in food chain not even your fuck ups were important enough to ever lay eyes upon me. Now send someone whos actually fucking sober down to guard the door and let me in.

>>1990094
I wrote that kinda hastily, but you get the idea OP.

>>1990051
Smile and rest your hand on your sword, adopting the manner of command that comes easily to someone that's used to being in charge.

"Easy, brother. The cause needs to ensure we have prisoners for the trial tomorrow. I'm not your enemy, just strange to you because I'm here fresh from the front. Would you mind showing them to me? I've got a job to do here, same as you."

>>1990094
>>1990124
Actually changing to this.

Just got to take a piss, be back to write up asap.

>>1990051
>Smile and rest your hand on your sword...

"Easy, brother," you say, gently caressing the hilt of the shortsword. Memories of your speech on the balcony return and you realise that your phrasing is going to be important.

"Fact is, the trial's tomorrow and the trial needs prisoners. No prisoners, no trial, no job for me tomorrow morning. I'm just a working bloke, right? (You lie through your teeth. Work? You?) It's my job just to make a routine check. We're all in the cause together, yeah? Topple the aristocracy, right? Let's work together - the sooner I see that they're alive, the sooner I can get going and leave you guys be."

This sort of hard-headed yet friendly attitude seems to win him over, and he turns towards the stairs.

"I'll show you the prisoners," he says, leading you up the stairs and onto the first floor. There, your aunt and uncle have been tied onto a pair of dusty wooden chairs. Their purple togas have been stolen, leaving them wearing white garments stained with dirt and red wine. They're a bit bruised, they don't appear to have been badly beaten. When they see you, they start in shock but try to make it look like a natural fear response.

The thug doesn't show any inclination of leaving the room.

>Ask him to leave so you can question the prisoners in private
>Tell him you're going to untie the prisoners to inspect their physical condition
>Ask him if he has anything to drink, perhaps he'll go and get it and leave you alone

>>1990301
>>Ask him if he has anything to drink, perhaps he'll go and get it and leave you alone

>>1990301
>Ask him if he has anything to drink, perhaps he'll go and get it and leave you alone
Seems good.

>>1990301
>Ask him if he has anything to drink, perhaps he'll go and get it and leave you alone

Thank him, and ask him for a drink after stepping out of the room. When he goes to shut the door or lock it, or when he turns his back to you to go to get the drink, stab him in the back, through the heart.

>>1990318
Then, if we succeed, hide his body in the room, dress your uncle in his clothes, and leave with your relatives.

>>1990310

After that inspect the room for potential escape routes. Maybe a wagon full of straw is conveniently placed under the window.... why didnt we think of something after hearing that they are on the first floor?

>>1990301
>>Ask him if he has anything to drink, perhaps he'll go and get it and leave you alone

>>1990301
>Ask him if he has anything to drink, perhaps he'll go and get it and leave you alone

"I am just _parched_, mate," you explain. Why do the commoners call everyone as a friend?

"Couldn't get me a bit of wine, could you? I've got a bit of salt, if you want it..." His friend certainly got more than enough.

"I've got a drop," he says. "Didn't know we had to pay you our booze for being a professional nuisance, though."

"It's the humidity," you say. "I can't stop sweating."

"Well, just get on with the job and then get out of here," he replies. He turns around and lumbers down the stairs.

You don't have much time, and you try your best to focus, think hard and act quick. You're on the first floor, the you relatives are still tied up, there are two competent guards downstairs. Your heart is beating quickly and you feel full of nervous energy.

>What do?

>>1990438
Does the room have any windows?

>>1990438
Untie them and prepare to ambush the guard incompetently masterfully.

>>1990452
I don't think a slum building would have windows.

>>1990438
>>1990500
Untie them, position your uncle and yourself to either side of the door, and ambush him with the rope he used to tie them as he comes back in the door. Strangle him quiet while your uncle stabs him. Should work well enough.

>>1990438
>Untie the prisoners and ambush the guard

Quickly, quietly, you untie them. Your uncle is bald, but you know him as full of spirit, a young man at heart. Your aunt, a youthful-looking woman, has long, dark hair. You remember her as having a love of music and being a great player of the harp. After freeing them, you discuss your plan: to ambush -and, uh, kill (you still can't think casually about murdering people) the guard with the rope and your "salvaged" shortsword. It's a good plan - in theory. But that doesn't calm your nerves. You and your uncle wait, silent as a cold night in a place far, far from this city; and prepare.

You hear the guard's footsteps ascending the stairs. Sweat dribbles off your forehead. You grit your teeth together.

The door opens...

Roll me 2d6.

Rolled 2, 6 = 8 (2d6)

>>1990569

Rolled 4, 4 = 8 (2d6)

>>1990569

Rolled 5, 4 = 9 (2d6)

>>1990569

>>1990569
>Rolled 4, 4 = 8

As the guard comes in, you quickly fasten the rope around his throat and pull it tight. He reaches for his sword, but your uncle grapples with him, stabbing him repeatedly in the chest. He continues to struggle for some time, his face showing rage and then fear, until finally he goes limp.

The three of you creep down the stairs, you leading the way with sword in hand. With relief, you see that the ground floor is empty. The guard must be outside taking a piss. A stroke of luck that might have meant the difference between life and death.

Silently, surreptitiously, feeling a cool and fresh wind on your faces, you creep away into the dark night. Talto has been cheated, and you are all to live another day.

--- End of Session ---

I hope you guys enjoyed what turned into "Roman communist breakout with English chavs." I didn't have a firm plan of where I was going with it, but I thought we kept the excitement up.

Next session, we might continue with our current here (let's call him "Caldeiri") or take up another protagonist and come back to him later. Or just drop the idea because I have a short attention span for running quests.

Thank you all for playing and for having good and fun ideas.

>>1990689
Not bad for some shitty aristocrat

>>1990689
Good work, dude. Not at all what I was expecting, funny as fuck. Looking forward to your next run.

>>1990689
Thanks for running! Looking forward to next time. Take care.

>>1990689
I liked it. Can't wait for more.