- Location
- Three feet to the left
- Pronouns
- He/They
Hmmm, I wonder if Moe's bonus towards working with kids would work with Lena if they both tried to figure out voodoo together?
A Hellfish flys again! ( a Simpsons X DVV CK2 Quest)
- Thread starter Ranger65
- Start date
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Plan: All My Homies Hate Burns V.2
Sadly, there appears to be no voodoo actions beside moes personal, Look for Magic Tomes might unlock some more, as it unlocks further actions, but i think the trait would, it makes sense to anyways
- Location
- Three feet to the left
- Pronouns
- He/They
Too bad, I hoped Lena might learn some voodoo along with Moe. Oh well!
Hey I just thought of something: Lisa would love to learn magic, wouldn't she? Lena can teach her once she actually knows what she's doing!
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It is possible that the Look for Magic Tomes action will unlock it, if so we still could, but as is it wont work.
Probably, and with moes trait he would have our highest occult (10 occult + 15 trait = 25 total in that situation, compared to Lenas 22)
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- Location
- Germany
Honestly don´t know with her
On one hand, her Buddhismus does hint at a certain amount of spiritualist mentality - on the other hand, she´s a "woman" of science, which kinda runs counter to accepting magic most of the time...
- Location
- Three feet to the left
- Pronouns
- He/They
I feel like she'd be fine accepting both. They're both provably real, after all. Plus, she's been shown believing in magic with that one episode with the wiccans. Also, she's eight, so I don't imagine it would be a hard sell.
- Pronouns
- Female
Lisa: I dunno, magic is clearly REAL, but it just runs counterintuitive to everything I study-
Lena: You can summon a pony.
Lisa:
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Reminder that people wanting to use omake bonuses, the holder of that bonus needs to give a heads up to any of the QM's iirc.
[X] Plan: All My Homies Hate Burns V.2
Either way suppose we are doing this.
Lets hope we can at least negate burns search
On the other hand lets hope the dices continue their trend of hating certain characters like Syndrome.
Cannot be a villains quest if Syndrome doesn't crit fail on the moment he most needs it
[X] Plan: All My Homies Hate Burns V.2
Either way suppose we are doing this.
Lets hope we can at least negate burns search
On the other hand lets hope the dices continue their trend of hating certain characters like Syndrome.
Cannot be a villains quest if Syndrome doesn't crit fail on the moment he most needs it
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All the ones listed on Plan: All My Homies Hate Burns V.2 can either have prior consent, or can only be used on said action and thefore cannot be used otherwise, just in case anyone is wondering
Anyways, thats goodnight from me.
- Location
- Germany
- Location
- Three feet to the left
- Pronouns
- He/They
On that particular note, is there anything we can do to boost our chances of reconciling with Homer? I really don't want to fail again. Hank Scorpio might take him, or something!
I do have an omake reward to go towards it, a +15 I believe. Will definitely put it on there once the time comes
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Just to make official I want to use my reward for plus ten flushing out spies, and plus ten for magical incline people recruitment.
[X] Plan: All My Homies Hate Burns V.2
I'd like to use my omake bonus to flush out spies this turn. I plan to say it again when the votes done. I'm just putting it here so I'll hopefully remember.
I'd like to use my omake bonus to flush out spies this turn. I plan to say it again when the votes done. I'm just putting it here so I'll hopefully remember.
[X] Plan: All My Homies Hate Burns V.2
Omake: The Finale's Last Battle (canon!)
Omake: The Finale's Last Battle
It was midafternoon in some godforsaken Jungle out near Russia, and the Finale was waiting for his prey. (Well, actually he was having a nap, but for him those two things might as well be the same; his faithful bird would awaken him if anybody came by.)
He'd been warned that the soldier being funneled his way was legendary, trained by his unit's leader. The reasons they were all there were both complicated and so simple it hurt.
It was complicated because they were being sacrified to prevent another World War, ordered to pretend to defect to Russia in order to give the world a scapegoat for a recent "nuclear test" that had gone horribly wrong. If they died out here, the world would be satisfied, would accept their blood as payment for the loss in lives, and the legendary soldier he was going to try to stop was going to kill those who were truly responsible.
It was simple because his squad leader had asked them to go out for one final mission, and they accepted without hesitation or reservation.
Complicated, but in the end, as simple as it ever got.
And, well... he was called The Finale for a reason. He already felt like he was living on borrowed time, so going out on his own terms sounded better than dying in some old folks home.
His faithful flying companion landed on his shoulder, waking him from his snooze. Quietly, carefully, he opened his eyes and looked through his scope. Sure enough, his target had arrived. It would be so simple to put a bullet between his eyes...
*BANG!*
A shot whizzed by the younger man's ear, warning him of the duel he was about to enter. With a curse, the young soldied quickly hid behind a tree and prepared himself for the Finale's last fight.
Naturally, the Finale had already prepared: traps all around, various sniper's nests scouted, and just enough opportunities left intact for his foe to get the drop on him with.
The Finale wouldn't make it easy, but he'd already accepted the mission, and would try to avoid killing the poor lad... unless he was completely incompetent.
It lasted for almost an hour, in the end. Perhaps it would have taken less time, but for some strange reason the hero of this tale seemed to be using a tranquilizer gun. Was he hoping to interrogate the Finale? Or-
"Got you."
The last words the Finale heard before a dart struck him in the back of the head, and his incredible resistance to poisons of all kinds failed.
***
The Finale woke up, groggy. He was... laying in the dirt? A glace around showed that it was barely a few feet from where he'd been taken down, but hours must have passed; the sun was setting already. And it was chilly, too. Why was-
Wait a second, had that young bastard stolen his clothes!? He had! His favorite ghille suit, grown in moss over decades, and he'd been left in nothing but his underwear, undershirt and his socks!
Why, if he ever got his hands on that punk...!
...
Actually, he'd lost. Been left for dead. Hell, he was old enough that people probably suspected he'd die of old age in a week. So... the mission was over already, wasn't it?
...didn't feel like much. Not much good, but not much bad. Even knowing the others were probably dead didn't move his old soul, given they'd already said their goodbyes. And up there, on a tree branch, his favorite bird watched him and waited to see what he'd do.
He wasn't much sure himself, either. All he really knew was, he'd probably never have another duel like that again in his life.
Slowly, the old man stood, various surprised jungle creatures jumping off him as he rose. He put one foot in front of the other, heading back towards a camp he'd hidden not too far away. He'd keep up his work as a mercenary, he decided, giving the young'uns a chance at him. Not a GOOD chance, but a chance all the same. Maybe do some good along the way, if he felt like it.
He needed another mission. Another good mission, to end his journey on. Until then... well, he supposed he'd live until something decided otherwise. His closest friends had almost surely passed on, and he'd miss them as much as the rest he'd lost over the years. Maybe one day, far from then... he'd have a chance to catch up with them again.
Not yet, though.
Right then, he needed a new pair of pants. Damned kids and their trophy-taking nonsense, grumble grumble...
It was midafternoon in some godforsaken Jungle out near Russia, and the Finale was waiting for his prey. (Well, actually he was having a nap, but for him those two things might as well be the same; his faithful bird would awaken him if anybody came by.)
He'd been warned that the soldier being funneled his way was legendary, trained by his unit's leader. The reasons they were all there were both complicated and so simple it hurt.
It was complicated because they were being sacrified to prevent another World War, ordered to pretend to defect to Russia in order to give the world a scapegoat for a recent "nuclear test" that had gone horribly wrong. If they died out here, the world would be satisfied, would accept their blood as payment for the loss in lives, and the legendary soldier he was going to try to stop was going to kill those who were truly responsible.
It was simple because his squad leader had asked them to go out for one final mission, and they accepted without hesitation or reservation.
Complicated, but in the end, as simple as it ever got.
And, well... he was called The Finale for a reason. He already felt like he was living on borrowed time, so going out on his own terms sounded better than dying in some old folks home.
His faithful flying companion landed on his shoulder, waking him from his snooze. Quietly, carefully, he opened his eyes and looked through his scope. Sure enough, his target had arrived. It would be so simple to put a bullet between his eyes...
*BANG!*
A shot whizzed by the younger man's ear, warning him of the duel he was about to enter. With a curse, the young soldied quickly hid behind a tree and prepared himself for the Finale's last fight.
Naturally, the Finale had already prepared: traps all around, various sniper's nests scouted, and just enough opportunities left intact for his foe to get the drop on him with.
The Finale wouldn't make it easy, but he'd already accepted the mission, and would try to avoid killing the poor lad... unless he was completely incompetent.
It lasted for almost an hour, in the end. Perhaps it would have taken less time, but for some strange reason the hero of this tale seemed to be using a tranquilizer gun. Was he hoping to interrogate the Finale? Or-
"Got you."
The last words the Finale heard before a dart struck him in the back of the head, and his incredible resistance to poisons of all kinds failed.
***
The Finale woke up, groggy. He was... laying in the dirt? A glace around showed that it was barely a few feet from where he'd been taken down, but hours must have passed; the sun was setting already. And it was chilly, too. Why was-
Wait a second, had that young bastard stolen his clothes!? He had! His favorite ghille suit, grown in moss over decades, and he'd been left in nothing but his underwear, undershirt and his socks!
Why, if he ever got his hands on that punk...!
...
Actually, he'd lost. Been left for dead. Hell, he was old enough that people probably suspected he'd die of old age in a week. So... the mission was over already, wasn't it?
...didn't feel like much. Not much good, but not much bad. Even knowing the others were probably dead didn't move his old soul, given they'd already said their goodbyes. And up there, on a tree branch, his favorite bird watched him and waited to see what he'd do.
He wasn't much sure himself, either. All he really knew was, he'd probably never have another duel like that again in his life.
Slowly, the old man stood, various surprised jungle creatures jumping off him as he rose. He put one foot in front of the other, heading back towards a camp he'd hidden not too far away. He'd keep up his work as a mercenary, he decided, giving the young'uns a chance at him. Not a GOOD chance, but a chance all the same. Maybe do some good along the way, if he felt like it.
He needed another mission. Another good mission, to end his journey on. Until then... well, he supposed he'd live until something decided otherwise. His closest friends had almost surely passed on, and he'd miss them as much as the rest he'd lost over the years. Maybe one day, far from then... he'd have a chance to catch up with them again.
Not yet, though.
Right then, he needed a new pair of pants. Damned kids and their trophy-taking nonsense, grumble grumble...
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- Location
- Louisville, KY
[X] Plan: All My Homies Hate Burns V.2
[X] Plan: All My Homies Hate Burns V.2
- Location
- Three feet to the left
- Pronouns
- He/They
So hey, what happens if the Bandit rolls great, and everyone else rolls like shit? Does he just, leave?
MrWealthman
Filthy Capitalist
- Location
- Deep in the piles of cash.
Local Bandit clowns on two more kings, kings in shamble.