The Roving Revelers (Who Will Absolutely Rob You)
by Reverend Dungeon MasterYou hear them before you see them. Voices raised in song, laughter peeling through the trees, the rhythmic clatter of hooves and wagon wheels. And then, through the underbrush, they appear: a garish caravan of actors, musicians, and jugglers dressed in an explosion of color so offensive it could trigger a wizard’s migraine. The banners on their wagons read:
"The Roving Revelers! The Realm’s Finest Troupe of Theatrical Talent (We Swear We’re Legit)"
Yes, they are absolutely not legit.
A tall, mustachioed half-elf steps forward, his purple doublet shimmering with entirely too many sequins. He flourishes his feathered hat with a bow so dramatic it belongs in an opera.
"Good travelers, rejoice! For you are in the presence of art!" he proclaims. "Permit us to entertain you with a tale of love, loss, and, ah… unexpected charity. Specifically, your charity."
At this point, the jugglers stop juggling and reveal that their juggling pins are, in fact, cleverly disguised clubs. A pair of dancers draw rapiers with entirely unnecessary pirouettes. The drummer swaps his sticks for throwing daggers. And you? You are about to get mugged by a bunch of drama nerds.
The Roving Revelers (Bandit Troupe)
Troupe Leader (Leontius the Lavish, 3rd-Level Fighter)
AC: 5 (Studded leather and a commitment to flair)
HP: 18
THAC0: 18
Attacks: Rapier (1d6)
Morale: 9 (Will fight bravely unless someone critiques his performance)
2x Fencers (2nd-Level Thieves)
AC: 6 (Leather armor, sheer arrogance)
HP: 10 each
THAC0: 19
Attacks: Rapier (1d6)
Morale: 8 (Will flee if they drop below half HP or if called "overrated")
2x Jugglers (1st-Level Thieves)
AC: 7 (Dex bonus, extremely tight leggings)
HP: 6 each
THAC0: 20
Attacks: Club (1d4) or Throwing Daggers (1d4)
Morale: 7 (Will run at the first serious injury, citing an "early curtain call")
1x Drummer (1st-Level Fighter)
AC: 8 (Trusts in the power of rhythm)
HP: 8
THAC0: 20
Attacks: Throwing Daggers (1d4) or Improvised Weapon (1d3, uses drumsticks)
Morale: 6 (Will bolt if the leader falls. He’s only here for the exposure)
Tactics
The Roving Revelers don’t just fight, they perform. Leontius starts combat with a monologue, using the time to assess the party’s strength (and, let’s be honest, stall for time). The Fencers try to disarm opponents in flashy duels, the Jugglers pelt ranged fighters with knives, and the Drummer provides a sick battle beat for morale. If things go south, Leontius will throw a smoke bomb (which is just colored powder and bad theatrics) and flee into the woods.
Treasure (Loot Stashed in the Prop Wagon)
A locked chest containing 200 gp and 500 sp (some of which is labeled “ticket sales”)
A silver rapier (worth 75 gp, used exclusively for death scenes)
A pair of enchanted dancing shoes (Cursed. They force the wearer to dance uncontrollably for 1d6 rounds if activated simply by trying them on)
Several pieces of garishly embroidered clothing (10 gp each, only valuable to someone with questionable taste)
A script titled The Tragic Tale of Lord Bloodbane (utterly unreadable, worth 5 gp to a theater nerd)
XP Rewards
Defeating Leontius and his troupe: 400 XP
Recovering the stolen loot: 200 XP
Wearing the cursed shoes and actually performing a dance fight: +50 XP for commitment
Delivering a better monologue than Leontius: +25 XP and his eternal resentment
After the dust settles and the drama subsides, one thing is certain: you will tell people you got into a fight with a bunch of rogue actors, and nobody will ever believe you.
Art: stolen from the Internet.
And, now, a monologue…
"On the Noble Art of Digital Larceny"
Listen, kid, let’s talk about the great unspoken crime of the modern age, stealing images from the internet. You’ve done it. I’ve done it. Even your sweet old grandmother, bless her cookie-baking soul, has probably copy-pasted a picture of a kitten wearing sunglasses without so much as a second thought. And why? Because it’s there. Because it’s easy. Because the internet is basically a 24-hour buffet of content, and nobody’s checking for silverware when you leave.
Oh sure, some purists will clutch their pearls and shriek about "intellectual property" and "copyright infringement" like you just walked out of the Louvre with the Mona Lisa under your arm. But let’s be real, when you right-click that stock photo of a sad businessman for your PowerPoint presentation, are you really committing a crime, or are you just participating in the grand, lawless free-for-all that is the digital age?
They want you to think it’s theft. They want you to believe you’re some kind of cyber-pirate plundering the sacred vaults of Google Images. But let’s call it what it really is: an act of rebellion, a tiny, insignificant CENSORED finger to the bloated corporate machine that slapped a watermark on a blurry picture of spaghetti and called it "premium content."
So go ahead, save that meme. Screenshot that infographic. But remember, if you get caught, I was never here, and this conversation never happened.
