Mutants and Masterminds
Suddenly the bump-rogue... bumped his head... on the table... right next to his trusty mug of ale. He looked around, and saw the familiar surroundings of his tavern, next to all the other patrons, who talked and drank the night away like they always did on a Friday night. (Not Thor's Day.)
What a nightmare it had been. Bumperial Power Armor! How funny! Like anyone would ever wear something so garish and heavy they would not be able to move in it anymore. And what ugly colors.
Glad for this sudden realization, it had been nothing but a dream after all, the dashing rogue took his pack, the bump crown safely stashed within it, and grabbing one more bottle for the road, left the tavern to find his luck in the great bump civil war. It was time to consider his next move. Where would he go? Would he join the league of extraordinary rogues and try to retake the Crown Castle? Or perhaps he would enlist with the Crown Rangers, and patrol the borders of the lands for wanna-be pretenders who might try to gather news and troop movements.
Both sounded appealing.
It was then that a pair of lasses, done for the day with their chores on the fields, walked by, their lustrous skin reflecting in the torch light. They gave the handsome rogue a welcoming smile. And as they walked on, the pretty one looked back and gave the rogue an inviting nod.
Knowing exactly that was needed did not require any skill here. And enlisting was now a "lesser priority".
Making his own luck in the world, the rogue joined the lasses for a night of merriment and more drink.
He dearly hoped they had enough coin, though, for his purse was now empty.
The Bump Crown would be safe for another day, regardless.
*Bump!*