Thankfully, you've just stated as such to Old Jimmy, who you have wandered back in front of during your post-prophecy shock. Apparently worried over your flabbergastedness, Jimmy quickly reaches into the pack hanging off the back of his wheelchair, and pulls out a full bottle of whiskey. He quickly hands it to you, and you heartily partake.

"Now, what did she tell you, boy? It musta been something fierce, because you look something awful. What'd she see? Marriage? Wealth? Good Fortune? Bad Fortu--no, wait, got that with marriage. What'd she see?"

"I......I just can't.... believe it...." You mumble, still out of it.

"What!? What'd she see!? Death!? Tragedy!? Speak UP, Boy!" Jimmy speaks more urgently, jabbing you with his cane.

"She said....she said...."

"She said WHAT? Out with it, dammit!!"

"She said......possibly one of the most....cliche things.....I have ever heard. It was.....it was just so......bad." You gaze off into the distance, now somewhat zen from your experience.

...............

THUNK

"OW! What the fuck!? Why'd you hit me again?" You clutch your head, yelping indignantly at the sudden caning. Geez, it's like the old bastard can't take a joke.

"You little bastard. I'm worried for your future and you have the balls to play with my good nature. Should've shoved the cane up your ass, so consider yourself lucky." Old Jimmy trails off, muttering something about whippersnappers and fangly-dangledy new music.

He shakes his head. "Now, you're gonna tell me what the lady actually said, or you're going to get more than a few more drubbings from this hitstick o' mine."

What do you do?

[ ] [Tell the truth]

[ ] [Continue being a smartass]

[ ] [imbibe liquor]

[ ] [other]

[AWAITING COMMAND......]

>>21315464
Tell the truth

>>21315603
[COMMAND RECEIVED]

[X] [Tell the truth]

"Fine, fine. Wouldn't want to dent your cane any further." You rub your head, hoping his vicious, totally unprovoked attack didn't harm your fragile, precious mind.

"The weird girly fortune teller said something about how the world is going to change or something, blah blah great destiny, yadda yadda I shall play a crucial role, and on and on and I don't really remember the rest. Called me a wanderer, how rude. The proper term is hobo, thank you very much."

Old Jimmy stares at you for a moment, then snorts, shaking his head. "While I believe in these harbingers of fate, I'm going to have to disbelieve this one. You can't even stand in one place without falling over, let alone stand at the middle of some grand event. Just stick to boozing, young'n."

You bristle at the old fogey's dismissal. "HEY! I'm perfectly capable of doing great things! I am a man steeped in the broth of destiny! The broth just happens to taste like drain cleaner, sometimes."

Another snort. "You've been saying the same thing since I met you 2 years ago. The biggest thing you've been able to call a personal achievement was when you drank half that dive bar's stock that one night and somehow lived."

"And a magnificent achievement it was. Even if I probably threw up part of my stomach lining. Worth the plaque they gave me for it."

"They didn't give you any plaque. You put one up yourself. You made it out of duct tape and paper clips."

"Screw you, Jimmy. I have your booze, and I'm leaving."

"You little bastard....don't walk away when I'm talking to you! I hope you get run over by the streetcar, you cocky little whelp!" He curses you out as you trot merrily down the street.

"And may your wheelchair lead you right underneath a bus, you old fart!" You yell back. Neither of you have ever been able to part without an exchange of insults.

For the time being, you take a heavy draught from the bottle of whiskey, and decide to swagger your way towards Lee's Circle. Why? Only the alcohol knows!

Making your way down the streets, you peruse the shops as you weave your way down the pothole-pocked asphalt. You notice an abundance of touristy crap shops. Not that it's hard to notice those; they're absolutely everywhere in the city, all prepared to fleece tourists of valuable money that could be instead spent on drinking. The poor fools. The rest of the shops are a full spectrum of small businesses of all sorts. There's even an antique shop with flintlock pistols up in the window. You might even consider buying one, except then you'd be no better than the tourists, wasting drinking money.

You finally manage to stumble your way to Lee's Circle, half a bottle of whiskey and a significant portion of your annoying voices of reason lighter. Maybe you'll just sit/sprawl messily here on one of these benches, finish this bottle, and try to ponder what ol' General Lee is contemplating in his eternal stony vigil. You gaze up at the statue at this thought.

You gaze back down at the street, then back at the statue.

Then you gaze at your bottle of booze.

You take another swig, as you ponder this question. Well, in your expert hobo opinion, you'd be wondering why General Lee's head is lying in the middle of the roundabout, why the rest of him and his pillar are a tad more widely distributed than normal, and why a weird glowey space-time-y thing has taken up statue duty. Yeeeeep. Truly a question worth pondering.

.....Hold on, something seems wrong here.

You should probably react to this somehow.

[ ] [Stare and marvel at weird glowey thing]

[ ] [scream like a little girl and flee in an irrationally drunken manner, potentially riding on your shopping cart]

[ ] [Attempt to do something useful or reasonable]

[ ] [imbibe liquor]

[ ] [other]

>>21316084
Imbibe Liquor

We're probably just drunk as fuck
And the answer to these problems involves be more shitfaced drunk

>>21316084
[ ] [Attempt to do something useful or reasonable]

Touch it
cmon
DO IT

>>21316301
>>21316248
>Considering actually taking a swig of my beer every time someone chooses the liquor option. Say it'll help me get closer to the mind of my character.

Considering the situation blankly for a moment, you attempt to solve your problem the way you solve all of your problems: You take a massive swig of what's left in your whiskey bottle. And after thinking better of it, you take yet another swig.

.....Nooooooooope. Still there. Though it does seem to be harder to focus on. Perhaps it is attempting to dodge your deadly drunken-ogle-fu. There is now no choice.

You must engage this uppity glowing thing in mano-a-thingo combat. Drunken fists shall solve this problem.

You march confidently (read: stumble wildly) up to the strange glowing thingamaboober, and read your bruising instruments to let fly with your hobo fury.

[Roll 2d20 to hit and for damage]

Rolled 13, 4 = 17

>>21316452
Let's teach that glowing crap the famed Drunken Fist

Rolled 3, 17 = 20

>>21316452

>>21316492
>>21316632

Placing yourself squarely in front of the portal, you wind your fist back, preparing to deliver a grungy fist of fury to the glowey shit.......and proceed to fall backwards on your ass, because you're hammered as shit.

You notice an upside-down hipster on the curb behind you, wrapped in a scarf made of smugness. He has his phone out, and is apparently taking pictures of the glowey crap. Or of you, if you're just hallucinating again.

Hauling yourself up, you proceed to ground yourself in a wider stance to facilitate another try.

You wind up, spin your arm like a windmill a few times for good dramatic measure, and let fly the mother of all haymakers!

Unfortunately, you also attempt to wiggle your arm dramatically while you punch, completely losing any power it may have had. Your dramatic shout of "WHAAAAAAPOWWWW" is unable to compensate.

Not that it matters, because your fist flies through the glowey shit as if it wasn't there. And due to your complete lack of balance, so do you.

To your surprise, yo do not land on the cold stone of Lee's Circle, but on grass.

You are now in a sprawling grass field.

What.

[ ] [What]

[ ] [What]

[ ] [What]

[ ] [Imbibe Liquor]

[ ] [Other]

[ ] [What]

Rolled 1, 15 = 16

>>21316714
More Booze

"What" may come after it

>>21316714
Imbibe Liquor

Proceed to freak the fuck out

>>21316859
>>21316758
>This "Drink whenever the protagonist drinks" idea is now a rule. This can only help my writing.

Well, you're in a grass field with nothing else in sight. Draining the rest of the bottle of whiskey is clearly the best way to deal with this, so you do so. Rather quickly in fact.

With that out of the way, you turn your attention to the next most pressing matter.

......That's a grass field, alright. Yeeeeeep.

Staggering against your clearly overly-perfect sense of balance, you manage to gain an upright position. You turn around, neutrally regarding the still ever-present glowing thingamajigger that you stumbled through. Except now you're in a field filled with nothing instead of a city filled with alcoholic riches.

You proceed to react to this in the most dignified manner possible.

"The FUCK!" You scream, flailing your arms about like.......well, like a drunken hobo. Running in tight little circles, you actually manage to gain some sense of actual clarity through your usual alcoholic haze. Or maybe you're just imagining it. Whatever. Drunk. Field. So much bullshit.

A thought strikes your mind, making you stop dead in your tracks. The prophecy that crappy palm reader gave you. "Could it possibly be...." you mumble to yourself, thinking deeply for a moment.

And then you proceed to disregard it completely, because coincidences happen and even if she was telling the truth, that doesn't get you out of the field.

Your attention is pulled from your drunken musings at the right time, as your wobbly vision registers a group of men coming over one of the nearby hills.

They're wearing medieval armor of some sort. The crap made out of little rings or something. And helmets. And they have spears.

And they look like they have a lot more direction and conviction then you do, currently. Smug bastards. Thinking they're so important and shit.....

Oh, wait. They're coming right towards you. ........Shit.

[ ] [NOPE back through the glowey shit]

[ ] [Drunken Fu their asses]

[ ] [Imbibe Liquor]

[ ] [Other]

[AWAITING COMMAND....]

>>21317114
[x] [Drunken Fu their asses]

>>21317612
[COMMAND RECIEVED. HUZZAH]

Clearly, this group of smug, spear-wielding marchers must be dealt with! Your hobo pride has been offended by their grievous crime, the crime of appearing in front of you, so shut up you're going to crane kick them now.

You begin shrieking at the top of your lungs, yelling meaningless non sequiturs as you drunkenly prance across the field directly at the group of armed men. Coming into ass-kicking range, you proceed to let loose your hobo rage upon them.

[Roll 1d20 to execute flying hobo storm kick]

Rolled 5

>>21317713
Prepare for either a 1 or a 20.

>>21317749

"FACE MY DRUNKEN HOBO WRAAAAAATH!" You scream, as you somehow manage to go airborne in your inebriation. Rather than the epic looking kick you intended though, you look more like someone threw jello through the air as you flail ridiculously.

Rather unfortunately, the seemingly nonplussed group of men have directed their spears at you in case you turn out to be something threatening. You manage to catch your foot on one of the shafts while you sail over them, and the resulting change in momentum causes you to perform a flying headbutt on one of the men, knocking the rest of them on their asses or sending them tripping over themselves to get out of the way.

You thud onto the ground, where you would have a headache but alcoholic beverages make you eat pain rather than suffer from it. For now, anyway.

Managing to bring your swimming vision under some semblance of control, you take stock of your situation.

You have managed to skull thwack one man into unconciousness. You are now in the general midst of nineteen other armored and armed men, who have just witnessed you knock out their comrade, are rapidly recovering their wits, and do not look very happy about your improptu martial arts demonstration.

The though manages to make it through your alcohol-soaked brain that this could end badly for you. Unless their spears dispense tequila.

What do you do?

[ ] [Graaaaar fight!]

[ ] [Fleeeeeeeeeeee!]

[ ] [Perform highly choreographed song and dance routine]

[ ] [Imbibe Liquor]

[ ] [Other]

>>21317749

"FACE MY DRUNKEN HOBO WRAAAAAATH!" You scream, as you somehow manage to go airborne in your inebriation. Rather than the epic looking kick you intended though, you look more like someone threw jello through the air as you flail ridiculously.

Rather unfortunately, the seemingly nonplussed group of men have directed their spears at you in case you turn out to be something threatening. You manage to catch your foot on one of the shafts while you sail over them, and the resulting change in momentum causes you to perform a flying headbutt on one of the men, knocking the rest of them on their asses or sending them tripping over themselves to get out of the way.

You thud onto the ground, where you would have a headache but alcoholic beverages make you eat pain rather than suffer from it. For now, anyway.

Managing to bring your swimming vision under some semblance of control, you take stock of your situation.

You have managed to skull thwack one man into unconciousness. You are now in the general midst of nineteen other armored and armed men, who have just witnessed you knock out their comrade, are rapidly recovering their wits, and do not look very happy about your improptu martial arts demonstration.

The though manages to make it through your alcohol-soaked brain that this could end badly for you. Unless their spears dispense tequila.

What do you do?

[ ] [Graaaaar fight!]

[ ] [Fleeeeeeeeeeee!]

[ ] [Perform highly choreographed song and dance routine]

[ ] [Imbibe Liquor]

[ ] [Other]

Rolled 3

>>21317927
Quickly, we must do a combination of these two!
[x] [Graaaaar fight!]
[x] [Perform highly choreographed song and dance routine]

>>21318006
[X] Highly choreographed musical fight scene

This a truly desperate situation. Your darkest hour, you might say (if you felt like being an overdramatic ham, which you do).

There is only one way to escape this situation.

One of the men has collected himself, and now looms over you as you attempt to struggle to remember how standing works.

"Cease your unprovoked attack upon us, vagrant! We are under direct authority from Lord Farnsworth, and you shall submit to our autho---GHHHKKK!" He is cut off as you perform some sort of drunken Shoryuken into his jaw.

"I'M SIIIIIIIIINGING IN THE RAIN!" You belt out, grabbing the man's spear as he falls. Musical fighting solves everything! It's just like West Side Story, if everyone spent the entire time complete hammered and used a bucket as a toilet.

"JUST SIIIIIIIINGING IN DA RAAAAAAAIIIIN!" Gripping the spear completely upside down, you clumsily swing it at leg level to your left, nailing one of the men in the shins. He hops around, pained by your unexpected blow.

"WHAAAAAAAT A GLOOOOOORIOUS......FEEEEEEEEELINGGGGG!" You face the man on your right, who is looking at you with a sense of unsureness. He seems to be mentally debating whether to stab you or back away. You decide to help him by showing your awesome spinning spear technique.

Unfortunately, you are drunk, and the spear pinwheels out of your hands and clonks another man on the edge of the group on the head, felling him.

'I'M HAAAAAAAAPYYYYY AGAAAAAAAAIN!!!!!" Having failed with drunken spear-justu, you settle for drunken kick-the-other-guy-in-the-balls-jutsu instead. The man lets out an undignified squeek, probably lamenting his lack of a codpiece, and sinks to his knees.

>>21317928
>>21317927
>The drunkenness of the protagonist is affecting the board itself.

You give a little bow and a flourish to mark the end of what you can remember of that musical number. You feel you have done an excellent job, though you feel like you may have forgotten something.

......Oh right. The rest of the guys that now have their spears leveled directly at you. You, who is drunk and unarmed.

.....You may want to consider a tactical retreat now.

What do you do?

[ ] [Retreat in a dignified manner]

[ ] [Engage them in Spear Combat! With your DICK!]

[ ] [Imbibe Liquor]

[ ] [Other]

Rolled 15

>>21318413
[x] Advance in another direction.

>>21318413
Imbibe Liquor

Retreat in a dignified manner

>>21318462
>>21318492

>The OP appreciates your dedication to keeping Lincoln going until he can get to the guns and monstergirls. The OP takes a drink, as ordered by the "Imbibe Liquor" command.

Retreat? Ha! Retreat is for pansies. You are not such a cowardly drunk. You settle things like a man! Like a hobo....man....thing.....thinking is hard.

But you know what? These men are not for fighting! No, they are too weak and puny. You must not forget the real enemy!

YES! The dreaded GLOWEY WEIRD THING! You completely forgot about it's appointment with pain that you made! And sadly, that's filled up your beatdown calendar for the forseeable future, so you'll just have to bid these sad gents toodaloo!

So you do.

"TOOOOOODAAAAALOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" You howl, as you make a break to esca---ENGAGE FISTICUFFS, YOU MEAN--- with the strange glowey thing, which is thankfully still where you left it. You pull out your emergency flask from your back pocket and swig while you stagger-run, for added efficiency.

With another one of your seemingly impossible liftoffs, you attempt to perform a double hobo rocket punch on the strange glowing itsamjig.

Fortuna--You mean, unfortunately, you soar through it again. In the blink of an eye, at least to your hobo vision, you are suddenly sailing off the top of the stairs at Lee's Circle again.

Hitting the stairs in an undignified heap, you flop down until you find yourself sprawled out somewhere on the ground. Upon reorienting yourself, you find it is on the curb next to the street, right next to your trusty shopping cart.

Wasting no time, you scramble to your feet, grabbing the shopping cart for leverage. You wheel it about and roll frantically to the other side of the street, with the previous absent crowd of glowey thing gawkers (the smarmy hipster is still taking photos) scrambling out of your way. You then proceed to hide behind the corner of the nearest building, suspiciously taking stock of the situation and analyzing your next strategic move.

Thankfully, you should be safe now, being back in the city and al------aaaaaaaand that's the armored guys marching out of the glowey shit, isn't it? Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

They line up at the bottom of the plaza, with one guy remaining on the upper section. He seems to be preparing a scroll of some kind.

What do you do?

[ ] [Strategic advancement away from the plaza]

[ ] [Continue reconnoitering the situation from your awkward hiding place]

[ ] [Take stock of potential weapons and escape routes for potential brewing shitstorm]

[ ] [Imbibe Liquor]

[ ] [Other]

[AWAITING COMMAND.....]

Rolled 1

>>21318706
[ ] [Take stock of potential weapons and escape routes for potential brewing shitstorm]
(Sorry about that, I had intended to reply and then apparently forgot, but at the same time thought I had.)

>>21319035
>It's not a big deal. You're the only consistent poster in the thread, so I'm just glad to have a player. Shame more people aren't involved though; would give me more opportunities for HUEHUEHUE choices.

Well, this is quite the shitty stuation. Weren't you just happily drinking as always only minutes ago?

Well, you may be piss drunk, but you're not stupid.

.......not THAT stupid.

You can see a shitstorm brewing a mile away, and this apparent trans-dimensional bullshit is guaranteed to cause problems. Time to take stock of fighting provisions.

Available to you immediately are your trusty HOBO FISTS OF SMITING, which have served you well, and are your default weapon, on account of them being physically part of your arms. They are, unfortunately, easily countered by sharp bits on sticks.

You also have available to you your SHOPPING CART OF DOOM, which has trample, but it's power and toughness depend on how many pointy bits are being stored in it. Since your trusty hobo backpack is being stored in it right now, it's currently just heavy.

.....aaaaaaand thus concludes the immediate weapon check. This was less successful than initially hoped. Perhaps you can sneak away and go stea---BORROW those flintlock pistols.....

Oh crap, the lead spear guy is speaking. Better attempt to pay attention.

"ATTENTION PEASANTRY OF THIS LAND!" The lead spearman bellows out, directing his speech at the crowd of onlookers. "As this new mystical link between our realms has, through divine means, seen fit to materialize upon Lord Farnsworth's land, he hearby asserts his dominion upon this land! By noble decree, all those within the realm are to render tribute accordingly! Your lands will be divided up as necessary, and you shall be assigned appropriate plots for farming and housing! Furthermore----"

"GO BACK TO QUEERISTAN, YOU COMMUNIST!" Some idiot from the crowd chooses this moment to respond, hurling an empty soda can at the talky spear guy. The man bristles at this apparent affront.

"Rebellious peasant!" He sputters. "First, we are attacked by one of your assassins, disguised as a vagrant, and now you openly defy our authority, and that of Lord Farnsworth!? Men! Cary out the appropriate steps reprisals!"

The other spearmen level their spears and advance upon the crowd. The crowd watches nonplussed, murmurs drifting from the onlookers.

This lasts until the lead spearman thrust forward, impaling the hipster through the gut. He chokes up blood, phone falling from his hands, as he writhes on the weapon that has violated his organs.

A morbidly obese woman near the middle of the crowd begins screaming, and attempts to start waddling away. Pandemonium breaks out as everyone claws and scrambles to get away from the all-too-real spears, with more of the onlookers falling to their thrusts.

You casually try to sneak away with your cart, slowly wheeling it in the opposite direction. You have no desire to get skewered, after all. Although BBQ would be excellent right about now, come to think of it....

Looking over your shoulder, you see something that makes you stop. It's a young girl, maybe about 21, with short blond hair, lying on the ground. She'd be quite pretty, if she wasn't screaming in horror as she frantically tried to slide backwards as a spearman advanced on her.

You feel an odd emotion. What the hell is it? You haven't felt this one in ages.....

......ah, right. Guilt.

What do you do?

[ ] [Attempt hero's rescue. ATTACK!]

[ ] [Sucks to be them. FLEEEEE!]

[ ] [Attempt to obtain better weapons]

[ ] [Imbibe Liquor]

[ ] [Other]

Rolled 11

>>21319611
[x] [Attempt hero's rescue. ATTACK!]

>>21319729

Your drunken logic only comes to one conclusion. You cannot stand idly by while delicious eye candy is turned into a pile of gore. A hero must rise. You.....are......

"NANANANANANANA BATMAAAAAAN!" You swing your cart around and charge the spearman menacing the young lady. Upon hearing your shout, he looks over in your direction, and visibly pales at the sight of you. The poor sap attempts to bring his spear to bear on you, but your drunken pushing turns out to be faster. You crash into the soldier, knocking him off his feet with the force of the hit and sending his spear flying. You keep going, knocking panicky civilian and spearman alike aside with the flailing soldier caught in the front of your cart, until you crash the man through the window of the nearby antique store.

The man is unceremoniously dislodged.and flies through the storefront window, crashing ass over teakettle through the store.

Turning around to evaluate your handiwork, you notice the girl has managed to upright herself and get to safety. Hang on, why is she running away? Not even a "thank you" blowjob? Whaaaat the hell. Ungrateful little......

Oh crap. You forgot about the spear guys again. Two of them are currently advancing on you, and it's doubtful you'll get anything but a spear in the head if you try to charge them without the element of surprise.

What do you do?

[ ] [Search for weapon]

[ ] [Escape into the store]

[ ] [Imbibe Liquor]

[ ] [Other]

Rolled 14

>>21319885
[x] [Search for weapon]
[x] [Escape into the store]

Hey, I'm probably going to go to sleep soon. I've been tired for the past half hour, but I'm starting to fall asleep in my chair.

>>21320013

Your brain is terrible at making decisions, so instead of picking one option, it picks all of them.

Hurling yourself backwards, you do a weird form of drunken backflip through the broken store window. It would have almost looked impressive, if you didn't land on your head, leaving you clutching it in pain.

Shaking your head to clear the pain, you scramble around on the floor, looking for anything that could possibly be used for not dying.

You hear a clunking noise as your foot hits something. Looking down, you spy one of the flintlock pistols from the display.

......Well, whatever works.

Grabbing ahold of the pistol, you immediately spring up and level it at the closer of the two spear wielders.

You pull the trigger, and the ancient firearm, which for some reason the store owner kept loaded for some reason, kicks as the black powder sets off. The spearman takes the musket ball in the face, and he drops like a stone.

The color drains from the face of the other soldier, and he runs off scream, howling about mages and other nonsense.

Well, whatever. You just killed a man, and it was totally okay that you did so, because it prevented you from dying. If you die, who will drink all the booze?

As you look back at the continuing madness you notice that some of the civilians have started to fight back, noticeably the ones who had concealed carries on them. Pistol shots ring out as the spearmen are gunned down by well placed shots, with several of them running screaming towards the strange glowey thing rather than face the "magic" they're screaming about.

Well, it looks live everything's going to work out juuuuuuust fine. You honestly had no idea what you were worried abou ----

Unfortunately, this though remains unfinished, as part of the antique shop's window chooses this moment to crumble on you, knocking you unconscious.

>>21320164
This is fine, as this is where I stop for now.

Please see @HoboRiftQuest for updates about the next thread. Send any questions, comments, or ideas to riftquest@gmail.com.

>>21320187

Please see @HoboRiftQuest for updates about the next thread.

Made a twitter account and started following you. Good night and thanks for the quest.