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[NPC] Monty Pyth- I mean Monty Secondary...

#1
The first impression that one would get of the King's arms upon entry would most likely be 'Ordinary'. It was rather standard, as far as taverns in Camelot go. Nothing fancy, but the locals rather liked it and there was always the warm buzz of drunken conversation. The doors opened, and three rather ordinary men, in ordinary clothes, entered this completely ordinary tavern for ordinary people...who are ordinary, just so that we're clear about just how plain and average this entire situation is. These three ordinary men, named Stephan, Samuel, and Stanley, walked up to the bar, the barman greeted them with a friendly smile.  

"Usual lads?" 

"Yep, usual if you wouldn't mind Carl" 

Carl nodded and began to walk over to grab the men a few tankards of ale. He was getting on in term of age, and thus was a little slow, but, he was hardworking and most of the patrons respected him for working day in day out despite his age. A couple of minutes later he turned with three full tankards of ale and set them down in front of the three men with a thump. 

"You've got the room until closing tonight, decided to give ye a couple of hours on the house" He told them with a warm smile. 

"Really? Bloody hell, that's generous of you" Stephen remarked before taking a swig from his tankard. 

"You three come in every week and ye don't tend to cause a fuss. I'd be a shite owner if I didn't treat me most loyal customers every now and then" 

The three men smiled, before Samuel piped up. "Right, payment!" He said, before producing a small orb of Omnilium, his two companions doing the same. Carl accepted them with a thankful nod before the three men went on their way. They went upstairs into a small room, at the centre of which was a circular table, upon which sat a pack of cigars, playing cards, poker chips, and a couple of bottles of wine. The three men sat down at the table, and began to set up a game of poker. Samuel dealt out the chips, equal amounts for each player, as well as setting up the cards. 

"Usual rules lads" 

"Roger that" Stanley replied before lighting up his cigar and taking a few puffs. "So, been up to much this week?" 

The other two men shook their heads. 

"I haven't, no...but there has been a bit of drama" Stephen said before looking at his hand. "Starting bet" 

"Raise 10" Samuel replied, pushing a small token to the centre of the table. "What sort of drama?" 

"Family friend is going through some tough times, farm got absolutely trashed" 

There was a pause in the game, stephen was mid-way through placing a bet as he looked at Samuel, shock obvious in is eyes. 

"What do you mean by...trashed?" 

"Whole thing is fucking gone...some bastard prime came through and decided that it was the perfect place for a fight." 

"You're kidding me, right?" Stanley asked before pouring some wine into a tankard. 

Stephen shook his head.

"Are you...sure it was a prime, mate?"

"Yes Stephen I'm sure it was a fucking prime. What else can punch it's way through brickwork like it's fucking paper?" 

"Space marines" 

"Fuck off, they're in Coruscant" 

"Sorry..."

"No...it's fine, I'm just worked up. Let's keep on playing..." 

They carried on with the game, and, two hours, three bottles of wine and several bad decisions later, Samuel was close to being knocked out of the match. 

"Fuck this" he snapped, throwing down his hand of cards. All he had was a pair of threes, versus a flush and three of a kind. To say the least he was pissed, both in terms of alcohol and mood, and had become rather fed up with the repeated kicks in the teeth that life had been giving him and the people he cared about. 

"Hey, calm down man. Might want to hold off of the wine..." Stanley remarked before shuffling the deck.

"Fuck off. Y'know what, I'm done. This is all because of those damn primes!"

"You lost a game of poke because of Primes?" Stephen asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"No, they're the reason why bad things happen. Think about it, they all come from different worlds, who knows what sort of things are considered normal where they're from. A lot of them are bloody superhuman, other literally inhuman monsters! Not to mention the fact that they're immortal, they just come back...it's scary!" 

There was a tense silence as the other men digested what Samuel had just said, before Stanley nodded in agreement. 

"Yeah...it's spooky...fuckin' scary"

"How come they get all of that? The immortality, the power, they even have the bloody highest positions in society! It's unfair, we're the majority, we're the people who belong here! What have the primes ever done for us, eh?" 

"Primes killed volvagia y'know" Stephen replied before taking a few puffs of his cigar. 

"And they defeated the Terrasque" Stanley interjected. 

"Alright, I'll give you that. But, other than killing volvagia and defeating the Terrasque, what have the primes ever done for us?" 

"We've got primes serving in the king's army and working as guards" Stephen added

 Of course after that Stanley had to chime in with "In Coruscant they've got plenty of 'em working as law enforcement. protecting the people" 

Stephen, not wanting to be outdone, responded by adding "Y'know in Darkshire some primes are helping to defend 'em from the monsters!"


"Alright alright!" Samuel interjected, waving his glass of wine around. "So other than Killing volvagia, defeating the Terrasque, serving in Camelot's army, policing the streets of coruscant AND defending Darkshire, WHAT HAVE THE PRIMES EVER DONE FOR US!?"

Samuel looked at the other two smugly, thinking that he had finally gotten through to them. This smug satisfaction lasted all of three seconds before Stanley decided to pipe up. 

"Oh, can't forget that they banished Diablo" 

"RIGHT! Other than Killing Volvagia, defeating the Terrasque, serving in Camelot's army, policing the streets of Coruscant, defending Darkshire, AND BANISHING DIABLO, WHAT HAVE THE PRIMES EVER DONE FOR US!?" Samuel asked, a little out of breath by the end of his drunken tirade. The other two were shocked, and didn't know how to react initially. 

Stanley broke the silence. "Think that's 'bout it..." 

"EXACTLY. They don't deserve all of this power! They don't deserve to step on us secondaries like we're ants!" 

"Yeah, exactly!" The other two replied, starting to get caught up in Samuel's enthusiastic ramblings. 

"So WE need to rise up, and tell those fuckers that this is OUR home, not theirs, and that we will NOT be oppressed like this any more!" 

"HELL YEAH!" stephen replied and raised a glass. "We'll need a name!" 

"How about S.S.S, Stanley, Stephen, Samuel?"

"You're onto something there Stanley!" Samuel replied, before his eyes lit up.  "How about, to make it sound more official, we're the Secondary Separatist Society?" 

His two companions nodded in agreement, and they all raised their glasses, toasting to the creation of the S.S.S

What could possibly go wrong?
"Feran, what if you come across an enemy you cannot harm?"

"Hit them harder" 

"OK, but your sword can't hurt them" 

"Get a better sword? Or a really big stick"
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#2
Two days later, the three men decided to hold the first S.S.S meeting at Samuel’s house. They would have met the next day, but Stanley wanted to make a quick trip to Coruscant to meet a friend on that day, a trip that his friends had not been aware of before he announced his plans quite literally hours before he set off. While it seemed strange and out of character, Stephen and Samuel hadn’t thought much of it. They trusted their friend had a good reason for leaving on such short notice. The sun had just set when the two other founding members of the S.S.S arrived at Samuel’s house. They were greeted by his wife, a rather orthodox citizen of Camelot who didn’t stand out at all, much like the two men who had arrived at her door. She ushered them in, and they were lead upstairs to a small study. In which they found Samuel, sitting at the head of a small rectangular table, with three tankards of mead before him, and a couple of bottles of the drink placed on a small desk in the corner of the room.

“Alright lads?” he asked as he stood up, and greeted them both with a hug and a pat on the back.

“Yeah, same shit different day for me, you know?” Stephen replied with a gesture that said ‘what are you gonna do eh?’

“I’m actually pretty good, my trip yesterday was nice, but fucking confusing. Coruscant is a damn weird place”.

The other two nodded in agreement. Stephen took a swig of mead before tilting his head towards Stanley. “So, what was the last minute trip about eh?”

“Ah, that! I actually have something to show you. I wasn’t just swanning off because I felt like it, I was getting something that should help our cause!” The other two raised their eyebrows and leaned forwards, eager to see whatever Stanley had to show them. He reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a rectangular device which had a couple of blinking lights on it and a screen.

“They call this a ‘mobile dataverse device’. Friend of mine in Coruscant told me about them, they let out talk to anyone, anywhere, instantly. It’ll be great for spreading our message, for making people aware of our cause!”

His companions regarded the device with child-like curiosity for a few moments. It was utterly alien to them, definitely something that couldn’t be found in any other verse easily.

“How…how does it work? Are you supposed to write on it?” Samuel asked.

“Yeah, looks weird as all hell” Stephen added.

Stanley set the device on the table between them and went through the basics of how to use it. It took some time to explain things such as a touch-screen to people who had gone their entire lives in a verse with roughly medieval tech. Stephen was baffled by the fact that they could talk to people in real-time, and didn’t believe that it was possible. But, eventually he relented and accepted that it at least seemed like Stanley was telling the truth.

“Right lads, how about we send a message? We need to attract passionate people to our cause, because the three of us won’t be able to take down one prime, let alone all of them.” Samuel announced after Stanley had completed his whistle-stop tour of the dataverse device and the many functions it had.

His compatriots nodded in agreement, before Stephen spoke up. “How about we all work together; to compose a compelling masterpiece of a message?”  This was greeted with more nodding. Stanley took up the device. “I’ll write it, seeing as I’ve had a little more experience with these things. Buddy in Coruscant was really good at explaining things”.

The three secondaries then spent the next hour and a half composing their message to the dataverse, the debut of the S.S.S if you will. It was nothing special in reality, a mere drop of information among the endless sea of voices within the dataverse; but to these three men, it was the beginning of a new age, a new dawn for their people, and they would be the prophets to usher in this revolution.

They all looked down at their creation. It may have been mere pixels on a screen, but as far as they were concerned it may well have been a holy text. 

“Are we all in agreement that this shall be our message to the Omniverse?” Samuel asked as he looked to the other two.

He received two nods of agreement, before he nodded to Stanley. “Send it.”

Stanley tapped the ‘post thread’ button and with that simple act the S.S.S truly began, it had progressed from a simple idea between three friends, it had become a message for all to see, and for some to believe in and rally behind, if they so chose.

“So…What now?” Stephen asked.

“Now we wait…it’ll take some time for people to see it, but they will see it, and when they do, hopefully it’ll touch their hearts and they will realise the true nature of the primes.” Samuel responded, before raising his tankard.

“This is our first step, the first move we shall make against the oppressive primes, my friends. Let us celebrate!”

“Aye! Down with the primes!” The other two responded, before they all knocked their tankards together and took large swigs from them. 
"Feran, what if you come across an enemy you cannot harm?"

"Hit them harder" 

"OK, but your sword can't hurt them" 

"Get a better sword? Or a really big stick"
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#3
The rest of that night was rather uneventful. The trio drank and shared stories, although they couldn’t help but check the dataverse device every few moments like an easily distracted teenager would their phone. At the end of the night they all returned to their respective homes and slept, hoping that when they woke they would find that their message had been seen by many. Unfortunately for them, no one had seemed to care much about their message to the dataverse. It was demoralizing, to be sure, but the S.S.S remained determined to bring the primes to justice!

The next day the met in the local tavern after work; luckily they all finished around the same time, and thus could meet and discuss the S.S.S with ease.

“Right, so the dataverse was a bust, it seems” Samuel stated as he sat across from the other two.

“Agreed” His companions responded, almost in unison.


“So we need to think of another way to get our message out without arousing suspicion; any suggestions?”

There were a couple of moments of silence before Stanley spoke up.

“We could…I dunno, hand out leaflets to people, maybe?” The other two men gave the idea a small amount of thought before shaking their heads.

“Not a bad idea, but we could be noticed far too easily. That and we would have to be REALLY careful about what we put on them” Samuel replied, before taking a large swig out of his tankard of mead.

Stephen then piped up. “How about we disguise it as something else? We could make something like a support group for people who have been harmed by the primes, see who could be a potential recruit for the S.S.S, and then tell them of our cause”

This idea was received much better, the other two nodded and leaned in a little closer.

“You’re onto something there mate” Samuel remarked, before scratching his chin a little in thought. “We could hold it in the room that we usually play poker in, see if Carl would be ok with it.”


“I’ll write something up and put posters around the town once we know if we can do it” Stanley added.
This exchange continued for a couple of minutes, the three men throwing ideas around, back and forth until they had all agreed upon a plan, and how they would execute it. For three rather ordinary citizens of Camelot they were well organised, having been friends for as long as they could remember helped in that regard.
 
Unsurprisingly, Carl, the owner of the tavern, didn’t object to the idea, and in fact offered to help in any way that he could, always happy to lend a hand to his favourite regulars. He agreed to tell people about it when they came in, so that they could reach more people. It was almost sad, to think that in reality he was aiding in the creation of a resistance movement, as unwitting as he was.

Over the next few days the three founding members of the S.S.S all chipped in to spread the word about their ‘support group’. Stanley, as he had promised, wrote up posters and spread them around the town, while Samuel and Stephen both mentioned the group at work and managed to get a few people interested. By the end of the week, they were all anxious to see what sort of fruit their efforts would bear. They did what they normally would at the end of the week; the three of them met up, went to the tavern, got some drinks, paid Carl, and then went up to their usual room. However, this time they did not have a game of poker set up around a small table. No, they had drinks and food lined up along a much larger table, obviously prepared for a reasonably sized turnout.

They sat around the table, nervously tapping their fingers as they all gazed towards the door with bated breath, waiting for the moment when it would open to the reveal the crowd of potential new S.S.S members.  It was about half an hour before someone opened the door and gingerly poked their head into the room. They were welcomed in, and offered a seat at the table. Before long more people arrived, until the founding members of the S.S.S had about fifteen people sat before them, all of varying ages and appearances, although, if we’re going to be honest, they could all be described as ‘average’. There didn’t appear to be anything extraordinary about them, which was what Samuel Stanley and Stephen wanted.

They didn’t want superhuman abominations, they simple wanted average people. Average people who possessed the willpower required to bring about the change they desired.
"Feran, what if you come across an enemy you cannot harm?"

"Hit them harder" 

"OK, but your sword can't hurt them" 

"Get a better sword? Or a really big stick"
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