Well then burns, get ready to receive some Christmas Spirt...
A Hellfish flys again! ( a Simpsons X DVV CK2 Quest)
- Thread starter Ranger65
- Start date
There's also hoping the chance the sabotage his defense lowers the DC so our attacked could have a much better chance at succeeded
Where is the Discord for this?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It's in the official DVV discord server, in the "hellfish" channel.
Its- oh already responded to, see kingsters post above.
Also some... interesting... news is coming out of it, "because by the dice goddesses theses rolls are something!"
Thank you.
MrWealthman
Filthy Capitalist
- Location
- The Shop in your basement
Is that a good something or a bad something?
I can't find the discord server.
"Oh it's completely fine…riiiiiiiiight, You guys have nothing to worry about"
In response to pods suspecting we crit failed something "I SAID EVERYTHING IS FINE!!!"
MrWealthman
Filthy Capitalist
- Location
- The Shop in your basement
This doesn't fill me with confidence did we crit fail again?!
Thank you.
Possibly, but there is nothing we can do if we did, We did what we could, now its in the hands of the dice gods
Besides "rolls are something and EVERYTHING IS FINE" is not inherently negative, it could be we just got an triple nat 100* on something and failed something else, since we probably failed something in there.
- Location
- Arcadia
...The pattern of the dice not being particularly well-disposed seems to be continuing, potentially. Well, all that can be done is to wait for the results.
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Who knows maybe everything is actually fine and the QM's just really like messing with us. 🤷♂️
But yeah all we can do now is hope that the update drops soon so we can get rid of the anxiety from waiting.
But yeah all we can do now is hope that the update drops soon so we can get rid of the anxiety from waiting.
- Location
- Three feet to the left
- Pronouns
- He/They
With how hard we stacked the deck, we must have caught one of these bastards, even if it wasn't Burns!
- Location
- Three feet to the left
- Pronouns
- He/They
Don't even joke about that!
Imagine Burns getting another syndrome crit...
- Location
- Three feet to the left
- Pronouns
- He/They
Oh wait. Maybe Burns isn't what goes wrong. Maybe it's the zombies! That might be worse....
They might have breached containment!
They might have breached containment!
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(Well mentioning zombie Birthday Day along with the upcoming spooky season, plus a rewatch of Gargoyles got me inspired, so here's a little something.)
Swift and Sleek, the Child of the Third Race
"Statements from Officer Wright's legal defense say they plan to continue with their not guilty defense for the murder of Bob Baker, aka the infamous Birthday Bandit. Next on tonight news, the Freezer the latest and greatest in our nation's war on crime, we soon hope to be able to take a tour of the facility."
The Tv is turned off, while the individual in the room lifts a cigar to their lips. A close of the tale of the clown who showed the world who was the bigger fool. A shame, truly. If only fate had been a bit kinder, and the game of cat-and-mouse would have continued. That was always his favorite. Would he have turned the clown in after finding him, or just a few scares just to see the clown run? A shame that question would never be answered.
Now, what next to entertain himself? There are no demands from the top for now, and no projects left unfinished that could be continued at this point. A trip to the pharmacist's domain could be interesting, or maybe the sheep's. No, not the sheep, sure no direct need for a glamour there, but the collar they would have to wear, or rather pretend to wear would make the trip just as wearing as the normal glamour to be taken seriously.
Perhaps checking on the MacDougal? It's been a long time since he checked in on that clan, and there's still that debt owned. Then again, running for hours isn't that fun, and its fifty-fifty chance if the scion of Scotsmen will chase him with a rake or a shotgun. Ah, while fun to poke their fiery temper, its less fun to be the target of it.
The figure prowls their way over to the window, looking over the town of Springfield. Such an interesting city, few places had such bubbles in the fabric of time. An endless parade of days, and yet almost nothing changes for good. Until now. The Dome fall, seems to have bought that to end. Only mere fragments of that remains. A worthily enough prize to claim, they're sparkly and make jangly sounds when you bat the cup you shoved it in. Even better, it's a toy that only you can play with, unlike your many subjects residing in this little home away from home. Best to come up with some kind of gift before leaving though, Eleanor has been a fine host, and manners still count.
While thinking of possible gifts, such as a brief run of good fortune, a moment outside the window catches the Child of the Third Race's eye.
"Oh, what's this?"
A paw pushes the blinds apart, allowing him to take a closer look. Slit pupils narrow in the light of the sun, then suddenly widen in shock.
"The dead walk?! Seems perhaps with time breaking, things are forgetting that they passed on and acting on old regrets. Regrets…."
The fairy pauses and then his face stretches in a smile, for now he has an idea. A wonderful, awful idea. All those regrets, all focused on one sad clown. One with regrets of his own. A fitting recipe for a revival, but if Tybalt is going to do some necromancy, he's going to do this big. No simple general 'walking dead' is going to do, he wants a least a haunting specter if not a revenant. But that's going to take some work in getting the materials in the right place at the right time. Which means, he's going to need more hands.
Tybalt slinks off the table, surveying the multiple of his subjects picking the ones who with a little guidance can be trusted to at least attempt the needed tasks. Closest to perfect they may be of all creatures, but good at following orders they are not. At least, he knows what to give Eleanor after this, because a vehicle is going to be needed and the less time they spent out of his sight, the less time they have to wander off.
"Now, how did that one go, Bibbity boobity, no that's not right. Ah, Bibbi-Bobbidi-Boo. Now, I know you lot have your own ideas, but King's orders. Now move out!"
Eleanor Abernathy, known to most of her neighbors as the Crazy Cat Lady, tries to open up her purse to fetch her keys while not dropping her bags of cat foods, or the cats that she bought with her. Then her garage door opens and her old battered car pulls out of the driveway. She drops the bags as she rushes over, trying to open the door. Can't throw a cat at the thief without an opening after all.
"Hee Nah yay na! Me cai sam ya! Sal eh mianeh eh how ema!"
Then the driver's side front window drops down, revealing the driver to be a handsome dark toned man, who gives her a charming smile and kisses her hand. "Disculpe señora, tenemos que tomar su camioneta para robar un cuerpo."
"Oh, nel mahe fo."
Flustered, Eleanor takes a step or two back, and then springing up from her chimney, a tuxedoed cat flies though the air and lands on the roof of the car. With a meow from the cat, the handsome man guns the gas, clipping the mailbox as the car makes a break for it. Witnessing then as they drive off that her car not only has strangers in it, but also a fair number of her cats, she tries to throw a feline, but for once the cat in hand moves out of place resulting in a clear miss.
As the car drives out of sight, Eleanor runs inside and picks up the phone. Those men stole her cats! And her car, but the cats are more important. They even launched her newest, such a handsome fellow she found a few weeks out the chimney! They will pay, and no fancy new TV will make up for this.
Over Springfield Police Department, Sergeant Lou picks up the phone and decides that since this is the six call today to actually treat this somewhat seriously.
"Springfield Police, please state why you decided to call us. If it's a bribe, please let us know now."
Sergeant Lou pulls his ear back as a rapid babble shouts out from the phone. He turns toward his boss holding the phone out.
"Um, Chief? It's the Crazy Cat Lady again. You're the only one who has a chance of understanding her."
"Sigh, why I had to take that 2-week course on crazy talk. Springfield Police, this is Chief Wiggins speaking. Would you bother repeating that, though if you don't that would be great. Uh huh, uh huh, broke into your house, cat flying from chimney, left a new TV you say. Do you think they have more? Hello? Hello? Well, she hung up."
"Do you think she's coming here, Chief?"
"Most like Lou, which is why I'm going be in the tank before she arrives."
Wiggins runs out of the room and crashing out of the police garage in the Springfield Police Department tank. The tops opens and Wiggins shakes his head. "When I find out who left the tank on forward, they are going to get it. Oh wait, that was me. Ha hah ha."
Just then, driving past is Eleanor's stolen car with a few cats sitting on the dash door with a bunch of people Wiggin's has never seen before in his life and streaming from the radio antenna is a black banner saying BB Lives. Wiggins pulls out the radio.
"Suspects are believed to taunting us, I'm calling a 10-43, and am in pursuit of the cat car thieves."
Meanwhile, Tybalt grins as his subjects arrange for transit of him royal self, memes to keep the regrets focused up and entertainment. "Why didn't I use this spell before, it makes getting things done so much easier." Then a stay shot from the tank causes the transformed cat to desperately swerve to avoid crashing.
"When did the constables have tanks?! Someone look up that tank and does anyone have anything useful to share about the fat cop driving it?" The youngest of the subject of the king of cats looks away from the window. "Given how he tastes when I've been on him, he loves donuts." "Good enough."
Wiggins laughs he loads up another shot for the tank. Best thing that Old Man Simpson ever did, followed by rescuing Ralph from that camp. While he won't take another shot now as if they dodge, he'll end up hitting the donut shop on 4th and 2nd, once they take that turn, this shot is going to end this chase. No thrown cats in Chief Wiggin's future, not today. Oh, surprise donut! He must have missed it when he was driving the tank earlier. Just need to pull the level its on to get it off, then its sweet, sugary goodness time.
"And that is a reminder of why illusions are some of the best magic. No better way to trick an idiot into turning straight into the oncoming delivery truck." Tybalts laughs as the car leaves the distraught police officer in the dust, too distracted by the smashed donuts all over the street to continue the pursuit. "Oh hey, looks like Eleanor caught up, she spiked Roger and Felisa into the fatty. Goodbye Springfield, see you later."
About 5 hours later, still miles from the burial place of the Birthday Bandit, Eleanor's car crashes into a bank on the side of the road. Disturbed meows and hissings ring out in the time as the spell giving the cats human form is broken by midnight's arrival. "Oh yeah, that's why I don't use this spell. It always ends at midnight. Haaah, what's the number for that tow trunk company again."
Swift and Sleek, the Child of the Third Race
"Statements from Officer Wright's legal defense say they plan to continue with their not guilty defense for the murder of Bob Baker, aka the infamous Birthday Bandit. Next on tonight news, the Freezer the latest and greatest in our nation's war on crime, we soon hope to be able to take a tour of the facility."
The Tv is turned off, while the individual in the room lifts a cigar to their lips. A close of the tale of the clown who showed the world who was the bigger fool. A shame, truly. If only fate had been a bit kinder, and the game of cat-and-mouse would have continued. That was always his favorite. Would he have turned the clown in after finding him, or just a few scares just to see the clown run? A shame that question would never be answered.
Now, what next to entertain himself? There are no demands from the top for now, and no projects left unfinished that could be continued at this point. A trip to the pharmacist's domain could be interesting, or maybe the sheep's. No, not the sheep, sure no direct need for a glamour there, but the collar they would have to wear, or rather pretend to wear would make the trip just as wearing as the normal glamour to be taken seriously.
Perhaps checking on the MacDougal? It's been a long time since he checked in on that clan, and there's still that debt owned. Then again, running for hours isn't that fun, and its fifty-fifty chance if the scion of Scotsmen will chase him with a rake or a shotgun. Ah, while fun to poke their fiery temper, its less fun to be the target of it.
The figure prowls their way over to the window, looking over the town of Springfield. Such an interesting city, few places had such bubbles in the fabric of time. An endless parade of days, and yet almost nothing changes for good. Until now. The Dome fall, seems to have bought that to end. Only mere fragments of that remains. A worthily enough prize to claim, they're sparkly and make jangly sounds when you bat the cup you shoved it in. Even better, it's a toy that only you can play with, unlike your many subjects residing in this little home away from home. Best to come up with some kind of gift before leaving though, Eleanor has been a fine host, and manners still count.
While thinking of possible gifts, such as a brief run of good fortune, a moment outside the window catches the Child of the Third Race's eye.
"Oh, what's this?"
A paw pushes the blinds apart, allowing him to take a closer look. Slit pupils narrow in the light of the sun, then suddenly widen in shock.
"The dead walk?! Seems perhaps with time breaking, things are forgetting that they passed on and acting on old regrets. Regrets…."
The fairy pauses and then his face stretches in a smile, for now he has an idea. A wonderful, awful idea. All those regrets, all focused on one sad clown. One with regrets of his own. A fitting recipe for a revival, but if Tybalt is going to do some necromancy, he's going to do this big. No simple general 'walking dead' is going to do, he wants a least a haunting specter if not a revenant. But that's going to take some work in getting the materials in the right place at the right time. Which means, he's going to need more hands.
Tybalt slinks off the table, surveying the multiple of his subjects picking the ones who with a little guidance can be trusted to at least attempt the needed tasks. Closest to perfect they may be of all creatures, but good at following orders they are not. At least, he knows what to give Eleanor after this, because a vehicle is going to be needed and the less time they spent out of his sight, the less time they have to wander off.
"Now, how did that one go, Bibbity boobity, no that's not right. Ah, Bibbi-Bobbidi-Boo. Now, I know you lot have your own ideas, but King's orders. Now move out!"
Eleanor Abernathy, known to most of her neighbors as the Crazy Cat Lady, tries to open up her purse to fetch her keys while not dropping her bags of cat foods, or the cats that she bought with her. Then her garage door opens and her old battered car pulls out of the driveway. She drops the bags as she rushes over, trying to open the door. Can't throw a cat at the thief without an opening after all.
"Hee Nah yay na! Me cai sam ya! Sal eh mianeh eh how ema!"
Then the driver's side front window drops down, revealing the driver to be a handsome dark toned man, who gives her a charming smile and kisses her hand. "Disculpe señora, tenemos que tomar su camioneta para robar un cuerpo."
"Oh, nel mahe fo."
Flustered, Eleanor takes a step or two back, and then springing up from her chimney, a tuxedoed cat flies though the air and lands on the roof of the car. With a meow from the cat, the handsome man guns the gas, clipping the mailbox as the car makes a break for it. Witnessing then as they drive off that her car not only has strangers in it, but also a fair number of her cats, she tries to throw a feline, but for once the cat in hand moves out of place resulting in a clear miss.
As the car drives out of sight, Eleanor runs inside and picks up the phone. Those men stole her cats! And her car, but the cats are more important. They even launched her newest, such a handsome fellow she found a few weeks out the chimney! They will pay, and no fancy new TV will make up for this.
Over Springfield Police Department, Sergeant Lou picks up the phone and decides that since this is the six call today to actually treat this somewhat seriously.
"Springfield Police, please state why you decided to call us. If it's a bribe, please let us know now."
Sergeant Lou pulls his ear back as a rapid babble shouts out from the phone. He turns toward his boss holding the phone out.
"Um, Chief? It's the Crazy Cat Lady again. You're the only one who has a chance of understanding her."
"Sigh, why I had to take that 2-week course on crazy talk. Springfield Police, this is Chief Wiggins speaking. Would you bother repeating that, though if you don't that would be great. Uh huh, uh huh, broke into your house, cat flying from chimney, left a new TV you say. Do you think they have more? Hello? Hello? Well, she hung up."
"Do you think she's coming here, Chief?"
"Most like Lou, which is why I'm going be in the tank before she arrives."
Wiggins runs out of the room and crashing out of the police garage in the Springfield Police Department tank. The tops opens and Wiggins shakes his head. "When I find out who left the tank on forward, they are going to get it. Oh wait, that was me. Ha hah ha."
Just then, driving past is Eleanor's stolen car with a few cats sitting on the dash door with a bunch of people Wiggin's has never seen before in his life and streaming from the radio antenna is a black banner saying BB Lives. Wiggins pulls out the radio.
"Suspects are believed to taunting us, I'm calling a 10-43, and am in pursuit of the cat car thieves."
Meanwhile, Tybalt grins as his subjects arrange for transit of him royal self, memes to keep the regrets focused up and entertainment. "Why didn't I use this spell before, it makes getting things done so much easier." Then a stay shot from the tank causes the transformed cat to desperately swerve to avoid crashing.
"When did the constables have tanks?! Someone look up that tank and does anyone have anything useful to share about the fat cop driving it?" The youngest of the subject of the king of cats looks away from the window. "Given how he tastes when I've been on him, he loves donuts." "Good enough."
Wiggins laughs he loads up another shot for the tank. Best thing that Old Man Simpson ever did, followed by rescuing Ralph from that camp. While he won't take another shot now as if they dodge, he'll end up hitting the donut shop on 4th and 2nd, once they take that turn, this shot is going to end this chase. No thrown cats in Chief Wiggin's future, not today. Oh, surprise donut! He must have missed it when he was driving the tank earlier. Just need to pull the level its on to get it off, then its sweet, sugary goodness time.
"And that is a reminder of why illusions are some of the best magic. No better way to trick an idiot into turning straight into the oncoming delivery truck." Tybalts laughs as the car leaves the distraught police officer in the dust, too distracted by the smashed donuts all over the street to continue the pursuit. "Oh hey, looks like Eleanor caught up, she spiked Roger and Felisa into the fatty. Goodbye Springfield, see you later."
About 5 hours later, still miles from the burial place of the Birthday Bandit, Eleanor's car crashes into a bank on the side of the road. Disturbed meows and hissings ring out in the time as the spell giving the cats human form is broken by midnight's arrival. "Oh yeah, that's why I don't use this spell. It always ends at midnight. Haaah, what's the number for that tow trunk company again."
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- Location
- Three feet to the left
- Pronouns
- He/They
The Fae would definitely love Springfield and it's wild antics. Wait.
Are..... are we all Fae?
Always ha
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Ladies and gentlemen, we hath an new objective!
Ranger65:
But I will give you clues about bork bork bork*
....in lemons
Here's it in pie
(the file was not on the original, its an formatting thing)
*(Reward is probably Swedish chef recruitment, likely an unit who can be applied to food based actions?)
Ranger65:
But I will give you clues about bork bork bork*
....in lemons
Here's it in pie
(the file was not on the original, its an formatting thing)
*(Reward is probably Swedish chef recruitment, likely an unit who can be applied to food based actions?)
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