mangawriter77
Otaku^9000 (In my own opinion)
- Location
- You'll neeever guess
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Thank you! Found it
DoofQuest- a Disney Villains Victorious CK2-Style Quest
- Thread starter Made in Heaven
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- the Netherworld Dood
We really should pick up Arizona if possible we have a lot of sites to hit and having a specialist will make our job a lot easier
kfrar
Aspiring Encyclopedia
But what if he thinks our loot belongs in a museum?
Build a museum?
- Location
- the Netherworld Dood
cultural artifacts can go into museums. The magical powerfulartifacts would endanger the museums and the people whom visit them. So I imagine we can talk him around.
AProcrastinator
You can Certainly Try
- Location
- Getting Somewhere
- Pronouns
- She/Hers
Hey, uh, speaking of the DoofQuest Hero Cards, this may have already been pointed out, and I missed it? But the flavor text on Norm Prime has changed, since ... I'm not sure when, but it's changed. And I quote:
"Your platypus-hunting, eternally chipper giant robot minion. He might also be your son…?"
"Your platypus-hunting, eternally chipper giant robot minion. He might also be your son…?"
Yeah after some therapy with Technor Doof realized that he shouldn't imitate his abusive father and act more decent to Norm. Read interlude "Doctor to Doctor" for context.
Museums will use replicas for pieces that could be damaged if displayed. I know they'll do so for dinosaur bones due to several reasons. Easier to replace a replica then a fossil.
- Location
- the Netherworld Dood
Which is another reason why it'll work out.
edit: actally I'm kinda surprised neither of them have an Occult score considering they know about the talisman and how to work it. They've almost certainly come across other magical artifacts over theyears
Last edited:
The cards only show 5 stats, it is possible that both of them have Occult scores.
Interlude: Rorschach Test, Part I
- Location
- Pennsylvania
Agent Russ felt alive.
He'd been looking forward to returning to LA ever since Doctor Doofenshmirtz had suggested it. As little as he ever allowed anyone to see his emotions, Russ adored working in LA, especially on cases that involved Toons. And what a case this was.
It was clear now that LA had not become a center of Toon crime simply out of a desire for old stomping grounds. It had been deliberate. Someone had carefully and intentionally brought as many escapees of St. Canard as possible towards LA, swirling together into a knot of slowly tightening control. This was crime on a level Judge Doom was not prepared for. It played into his anti-Toon rhetoric even as it mocked him for his inability to face it. And face it Doom could not. If there was one thing Russ knew, it was that if you wanted to fight a Toon, you had to think a little funny.
It has started out like any other investigation into organized crime. Make contact with your local sources. Find marks, shadow them. Intercept communications, move up the ladder, go hunting for the kingpin. The Red Car had been a great help. But slowly, so slowly that at first he didn't notice it, things began to change.
Cryptic messages that only made sense days later. Smugglers and lickspittles told to say strangely specific things. Ciphers designed to test the mind rather than hide a secret. A dead drop to a meetup for a package to a dead drop that provided codes to a safe that when opened revealed nothing but an embarrassing photo of Alonso Hawk slipping on a banana peel.
In his own bedroom.
The longer things went on, the more certain Russ became. Someone knew he was here. Someone was playing a game. Someone was having fun.
And, Russ admitted to himself. Other crimes filled Russ with a bone-deep weariness, a simple sadness of what the world had become. But Toon villains… Toon villains were different. Somewhere, in the part of Agent Russ' mind where joy was hidden… he was having fun too.
---
The culmination of all Russ' work had led to this. The mastermind, whoever he was, had slipped up in his little game. He would be forced to step out of the shadows, if only briefly.
Because he had a meeting with Judge Doom.
Russ surveyed the warehouse the two had chosen for their rather concerning rendezvous from behind a jet-black Rolls-Royce limousine in the parking lot- Doom's, Russ assumed. The building was neutral ground. It was once an old ACME storage building, before Toontown was Dipped and the funny business found itself losing out to the interstate. Russ slipped inside, moving past the handful of prowling weasels with ease. A thrown rock here, a pratfall there, a few carefully executed 'near-misses', and the latent comedy inherent in a secret agent trying to sneak past a weasel with a club was discharged harmlessly.
Judge Doom was waiting inside. This was not Russ' first time seeing the man, but he fought back a wave of disgust all the same. This was the butcher of Toontown. The man who had killed a thousand Toons and gotten away with it, because after all, they had 'broken the law'. Before, in the garish light of the Sands Casino, he looked like a caricature, an absurdity. Here, in the shadow of Toontown's broken dream, he loomed like a spectre, black cloth and pale skin and eyes that drilled into empty space with horrifying intensity. Anger and fear warred in Russ' mind as he found a hiding place high in the discarded crates of crushed cartoon toys.
Suddenly, he blinked. Nothing had changed. The warehouse and its decrepit containers were the same as they had been a moment ago. But the atmosphere was different. There was a charge in the air. If there was an audience, they would be hushed.
Someone else was here. Russ could feel it.
Judge Doom felt it too. His head snapped up suddenly, unblinking eyes beneath a wide black hat suddenly alert and focused. Stretching out his gloved hand, he rapped his cane on the ground once again. That perfect question bereft of its answer.
Tap tap ta-tap tap.
Russ quashed the niggling urge to complete the pattern.
Tap Tap ta-tap tap.
Tap Tap ta-tap tap.
Tap Tap ta-tap ta-
Ka-Clunk.
Above him, the skylight swung open, revealing a perfectly full moon. Russ pulled his eyes back down. No. No they wouldn't be there. They would be somewhere else, somewhere on the ground, slipping in while eyes were distracted. Somewhere, lurking in the-
Shadows. There.
"Ah ha. Mayor Doom. In the Flesh." A smooth, smug voice rang out.
Doom shook his head ruefully. "You couldn't resist making an entrance, could you?" he replied in cold, clipped tones.
"Why, you're the guest of honor. I take it as a sign of pure prestige you wished to meet with me personally." A figure finally emerged from the darkness, yet it carried the darkness with it. Indistinct, amorphous, impossible to track, a suit like flowing ink except for two bright eyes.
"The Phan…tom… Blot." Doom said, irritation present in every forced consonant. "Youu… have been running my men ragged. Playing yourr little games."
"And who else did you think could be capable of such a thing? Mickey Mouse?" The Blot chuckled to himself. If the Mayor understood any but the surface layer of that joke, he gave no sign.
"That you are herrre…" Doom said slowly, "Implies that you are at least willing to consider my offer."
"Oh, I consider everything. But ah, perhaps you would be so kind as to repeat it?"
Doom's visage turned murderous. "I am a very wealthy man. Enough to have several wealthy men under my thumb."
"You mean Alonso? Poor old fellow. How's his back? I imagine he must be working himself to death now he's doing the work of the entire LAPD."
Doom glared.
"I suppose it was a rather clever scheme. Quietly ensure that detailed plans for the precinct's headquarters were leaked to minor villainess Zapphire, safe in the knowledge she would make the force look weak, highlight the need for new Superheroes, and further destroy the reputation of Toons everywhere. But of course, not quite so clever a plan as, say, allowing you to discover a willing patsy, only to ensure that tainted knowledge ended up in the hands of the far more capable and particularly comedic Quackerjack, thus making a fool out of you and your entire government. Hypothetically speaking. Why, I imagine you'd even have to remove that irritating stooge you have sitting in the Chief's chair, and replace him with the one man who didn't get sidetracked. Give my regards to Commissioner Cleaver, I look forward to bamboozling him."
"I. Am. Offering." Doom spat out with undisguised fury, "To pay you a not inconsiderable sum of cash if you will redirect your… energies elsewhere." Doom snapped his fingers, and another weasel, this one in a fedora and suit, walked forward carrying a briefcase that opened to reveal neatly stacked cash.
"There's a lot more in tha wagon." The weasel grinned greedily.
"And where exactly would you like this attention to go?"
"I think you can guess." Doom responded.
"Oh, everyone can guess. Not everyone can be right, however."
"Doof. En. Schmirtz." Doom said, quiet malice undercutting the words. "He has proven more… adept at social niceties than I might have expected."
"And so you wish for me to be your stooge." The Blot rose up, letting the words hang in the words for a moment. "Very well. I accept."
The Blot seemed to radiate satisfaction as a flicker of shock and confusion passed across Doom's face.
"Just, ah, one small thing." The Blot said, moving towards the briefcase of cash.
And then, he shut it on the weasel's fingers.
"Keep your filthy blood money." The Blot said as the weasel howled with pain. "I see no value in wealth I do not earn with my own artifice. I will move my attentions away from this city… but not for money. And not for you."
The Blot began pacing. "I am the world's greatest criminal mind. I require a foe, a challenger, a worthy opponent. Someone who can match me in underworld dealings, who might somehow thwart my plans. And you, Judge, you and that poor joke of a man you let play with your spies, have proven yourselves woefully inadequate. I laid countless clues, created tricks and traps and leads and puzzles, but you solved none of them, not even with the help of your hapless spymaster. No, only one man has." The Phantom Blot said silkily as his head slowly turned.
"Isn't that right, Agent Russ?"
---
A/N: You guys were lucky. We checked every time the Blot did something impressive to see if he got bored of LA and started looking for a challenge. If that had happened without you knowing, well…
He'd been looking forward to returning to LA ever since Doctor Doofenshmirtz had suggested it. As little as he ever allowed anyone to see his emotions, Russ adored working in LA, especially on cases that involved Toons. And what a case this was.
It was clear now that LA had not become a center of Toon crime simply out of a desire for old stomping grounds. It had been deliberate. Someone had carefully and intentionally brought as many escapees of St. Canard as possible towards LA, swirling together into a knot of slowly tightening control. This was crime on a level Judge Doom was not prepared for. It played into his anti-Toon rhetoric even as it mocked him for his inability to face it. And face it Doom could not. If there was one thing Russ knew, it was that if you wanted to fight a Toon, you had to think a little funny.
It has started out like any other investigation into organized crime. Make contact with your local sources. Find marks, shadow them. Intercept communications, move up the ladder, go hunting for the kingpin. The Red Car had been a great help. But slowly, so slowly that at first he didn't notice it, things began to change.
Cryptic messages that only made sense days later. Smugglers and lickspittles told to say strangely specific things. Ciphers designed to test the mind rather than hide a secret. A dead drop to a meetup for a package to a dead drop that provided codes to a safe that when opened revealed nothing but an embarrassing photo of Alonso Hawk slipping on a banana peel.
In his own bedroom.
The longer things went on, the more certain Russ became. Someone knew he was here. Someone was playing a game. Someone was having fun.
And, Russ admitted to himself. Other crimes filled Russ with a bone-deep weariness, a simple sadness of what the world had become. But Toon villains… Toon villains were different. Somewhere, in the part of Agent Russ' mind where joy was hidden… he was having fun too.
---
The culmination of all Russ' work had led to this. The mastermind, whoever he was, had slipped up in his little game. He would be forced to step out of the shadows, if only briefly.
Because he had a meeting with Judge Doom.
Russ surveyed the warehouse the two had chosen for their rather concerning rendezvous from behind a jet-black Rolls-Royce limousine in the parking lot- Doom's, Russ assumed. The building was neutral ground. It was once an old ACME storage building, before Toontown was Dipped and the funny business found itself losing out to the interstate. Russ slipped inside, moving past the handful of prowling weasels with ease. A thrown rock here, a pratfall there, a few carefully executed 'near-misses', and the latent comedy inherent in a secret agent trying to sneak past a weasel with a club was discharged harmlessly.
Judge Doom was waiting inside. This was not Russ' first time seeing the man, but he fought back a wave of disgust all the same. This was the butcher of Toontown. The man who had killed a thousand Toons and gotten away with it, because after all, they had 'broken the law'. Before, in the garish light of the Sands Casino, he looked like a caricature, an absurdity. Here, in the shadow of Toontown's broken dream, he loomed like a spectre, black cloth and pale skin and eyes that drilled into empty space with horrifying intensity. Anger and fear warred in Russ' mind as he found a hiding place high in the discarded crates of crushed cartoon toys.
Suddenly, he blinked. Nothing had changed. The warehouse and its decrepit containers were the same as they had been a moment ago. But the atmosphere was different. There was a charge in the air. If there was an audience, they would be hushed.
Someone else was here. Russ could feel it.
Judge Doom felt it too. His head snapped up suddenly, unblinking eyes beneath a wide black hat suddenly alert and focused. Stretching out his gloved hand, he rapped his cane on the ground once again. That perfect question bereft of its answer.
Tap tap ta-tap tap.
Russ quashed the niggling urge to complete the pattern.
Tap Tap ta-tap tap.
Tap Tap ta-tap tap.
Tap Tap ta-tap ta-
Ka-Clunk.
Above him, the skylight swung open, revealing a perfectly full moon. Russ pulled his eyes back down. No. No they wouldn't be there. They would be somewhere else, somewhere on the ground, slipping in while eyes were distracted. Somewhere, lurking in the-
Shadows. There.
"Ah ha. Mayor Doom. In the Flesh." A smooth, smug voice rang out.
Doom shook his head ruefully. "You couldn't resist making an entrance, could you?" he replied in cold, clipped tones.
"Why, you're the guest of honor. I take it as a sign of pure prestige you wished to meet with me personally." A figure finally emerged from the darkness, yet it carried the darkness with it. Indistinct, amorphous, impossible to track, a suit like flowing ink except for two bright eyes.
"The Phan…tom… Blot." Doom said, irritation present in every forced consonant. "Youu… have been running my men ragged. Playing yourr little games."
"And who else did you think could be capable of such a thing? Mickey Mouse?" The Blot chuckled to himself. If the Mayor understood any but the surface layer of that joke, he gave no sign.
"That you are herrre…" Doom said slowly, "Implies that you are at least willing to consider my offer."
"Oh, I consider everything. But ah, perhaps you would be so kind as to repeat it?"
Doom's visage turned murderous. "I am a very wealthy man. Enough to have several wealthy men under my thumb."
"You mean Alonso? Poor old fellow. How's his back? I imagine he must be working himself to death now he's doing the work of the entire LAPD."
Doom glared.
"I suppose it was a rather clever scheme. Quietly ensure that detailed plans for the precinct's headquarters were leaked to minor villainess Zapphire, safe in the knowledge she would make the force look weak, highlight the need for new Superheroes, and further destroy the reputation of Toons everywhere. But of course, not quite so clever a plan as, say, allowing you to discover a willing patsy, only to ensure that tainted knowledge ended up in the hands of the far more capable and particularly comedic Quackerjack, thus making a fool out of you and your entire government. Hypothetically speaking. Why, I imagine you'd even have to remove that irritating stooge you have sitting in the Chief's chair, and replace him with the one man who didn't get sidetracked. Give my regards to Commissioner Cleaver, I look forward to bamboozling him."
"I. Am. Offering." Doom spat out with undisguised fury, "To pay you a not inconsiderable sum of cash if you will redirect your… energies elsewhere." Doom snapped his fingers, and another weasel, this one in a fedora and suit, walked forward carrying a briefcase that opened to reveal neatly stacked cash.
"There's a lot more in tha wagon." The weasel grinned greedily.
"And where exactly would you like this attention to go?"
"I think you can guess." Doom responded.
"Oh, everyone can guess. Not everyone can be right, however."
"Doof. En. Schmirtz." Doom said, quiet malice undercutting the words. "He has proven more… adept at social niceties than I might have expected."
"And so you wish for me to be your stooge." The Blot rose up, letting the words hang in the words for a moment. "Very well. I accept."
The Blot seemed to radiate satisfaction as a flicker of shock and confusion passed across Doom's face.
"Just, ah, one small thing." The Blot said, moving towards the briefcase of cash.
And then, he shut it on the weasel's fingers.
"Keep your filthy blood money." The Blot said as the weasel howled with pain. "I see no value in wealth I do not earn with my own artifice. I will move my attentions away from this city… but not for money. And not for you."
The Blot began pacing. "I am the world's greatest criminal mind. I require a foe, a challenger, a worthy opponent. Someone who can match me in underworld dealings, who might somehow thwart my plans. And you, Judge, you and that poor joke of a man you let play with your spies, have proven yourselves woefully inadequate. I laid countless clues, created tricks and traps and leads and puzzles, but you solved none of them, not even with the help of your hapless spymaster. No, only one man has." The Phantom Blot said silkily as his head slowly turned.
"Isn't that right, Agent Russ?"
---
A/N: You guys were lucky. We checked every time the Blot did something impressive to see if he got bored of LA and started looking for a challenge. If that had happened without you knowing, well…
... so that's fantastic. Because this is exactly what we need.
And this is part 1.
Edit: At least we know he's coming, so there's that.
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Hm. The paradigm is shifting rapidly.
- Location
- Pindorama
Well, RIP plans of sending Russ to the auction I guess.
- Location
- California,USA
AProcrastinator
You can Certainly Try
- Location
- Getting Somewhere
- Pronouns
- She/Hers
This is our most prized possession, now. We are hiring the Phantom Blot immediately.
- Location
- Actually pretty lost
Counteroffer: They do exactly that, but have their battle of wits in Doom's territory because it's funnier when he's the one suffering for it.
- Location
- USA
- Location
- The City of Tears, Hallownest
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I got a bad feeling about this.
Nix's Warden
Welcome to Hades
- Location
- United States
You know, while its great that we KNOW this is coming, I'm also scared shitless that a Intrigue 56 Toon Villain who understands how the normal world works and is able and willing to tie it into knots with the Toon Force backing him is coming looking for a Worthy Challenge.
- Location
- Earth
- Pronouns
- He/Him
AProcrastinator
You can Certainly Try
- Location
- Getting Somewhere
- Pronouns
- She/Hers
- Location
- the Netherworld Dood
whomever can cause Doom to fall to pieces first wins?
