Scaling Up
- Thread starter Kryslin
- Start date
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
Or computer destruction and basic electrical repair techniques.
The last wire splices I did were back in the 80's. Bell splices, fluxed, soldered and double heat shrunk (each indiviudal wire, and one over that) after the wires were tested. I don't mess with power supplies or CRTs anymore....
Not after vaporizing discharge probes (and welding the ground clamp to the grounding rod).
But be of good cheer! An assemblage of Wordz™ that might resemble a post is coming!
The last wire splices I did were back in the 80's. Bell splices, fluxed, soldered and double heat shrunk (each indiviudal wire, and one over that) after the wires were tested. I don't mess with power supplies or CRTs anymore....
Not after vaporizing discharge probes (and welding the ground clamp to the grounding rod).
But be of good cheer! An assemblage of Wordz™ that might resemble a post is coming!
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
Now, who in this story is liable to be that person who goes 'I didn't ask how big the room is, I said I cast fireball!'...?
Low-hanging fruit: Vicky.
Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
She's a barbarian princess build though, not a mage. So she's more likely to charge in swinging that mace of hers and get herself KO'd by a flying bouncing enemy.
grommile
nasty-minded old cynic
- Location
- NERV-Mercia
- Pronouns
- Traditional/Animate
Carol? I mean, from a certain point of view, lawyers are basically wizards (trial lawyers in particular, but also contract-drafting lawyers etc).
(See Donald Netolitzky's papers on how understanding that makes the phenomenon of Organized Pseudolegal Commercial Argument much easier to understand.)
(See Donald Netolitzky's papers on how understanding that makes the phenomenon of Organized Pseudolegal Commercial Argument much easier to understand.)
Last edited:
Long, long time ago, dad was trying to discharge a TV CRT. He made it about 6ft across the den. He apparently had his fingers touching the screwdriver he was using to short the cathode to ground. He was fine, but was a damn site more careful after that.
--- back on track, mostly ---
When playing D&D and reading through fictions, the one thing that's always bothered me is lightning attacks. Anyone that's been zapped by a 120V line, or large capacitors, knows just how much a problem electricity can be. That being the case, how the hell does a character survive being nailed by a lightning strike? If you're lucky, the lightning will partially cook your skin, and leave interesting patterns on it, all while lighting up your nervous system like it's on fire. If you're unlucky, your nervous system gets cooked, as well as neural damage from literally fried synapses. Either way, you're brain is pretty well shut down for a while. And characters just take it and keep on truckin. WTF?
How are you handling lightning attacks in your stories Kryslin? Tank it and continue, or debilitating?
grommile
nasty-minded old cynic
- Location
- NERV-Mercia
- Pronouns
- Traditional/Animate
Rules as written:
Being hit with a sword only makes you bleed dangerously if it's a sword of wounding or takes you below zero HP.
Surviving black or red dragon breath doesn't leave you with hideous soft tissue damage and scarring.
Surviving green dragon breath doesn't leave you with bronchitis obliterans or other such fun.
Surviving white dragon breath lets you keep all your fingers and toes.
Given the above, surviving blue dragon breath leaving you with a functioning peripheral nervous system is fine with me.
- Location
- Wherever I feel like being
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Greg. Through no fault of his own. Although probably less "I cast Fireball!" and more "I am Fireball!"
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
A subject worthy of thought. Note that the only persons to be Lightning Bolted were Lung (by Naurelin) and Hookwolf (by Weaver). Both subjects were effectively grounded (metal in contact with the earth), but it still stunned them. They both recovered, because they both regenerate. With Lung, it devolved into brutal, close quarters tooth and claw action before taking a blast of near nuclear level plasma masquerading as a dragon's fire breath weapon. With Hookwolf, he took repeated hits from a 35mm Goalkeeper CIWS on the Rig, a Denel NTW-20 from Miss Militia, Dauntless' arc lance before Vista warped space enough for Armsmaster to nanothorn him, finally killing him.
So, for lightning bolts, I'm treating them as a discharge that mainly affects the surface of the target. Very high voltage, very, very low current. Also, the spell provides a conductive channel for the discharge. Which basically means you can pick yourself up, mutter about how much that @#$!ing hurt, pick up your weapon, and try to kill the #$@! spellcaster before he gets another off. Eventually though, the damage accumulates, and the burns start showing up, followed by the twitches of a horribly abused nervous system, and then finally, a pleasant discussion with a goth girl while you try to make your death saves.
The hardest problem with D&D is that Hit Points are an abstraction for whatever trauma you are experiencing. And there is no easy way to un-abstract it.
I could go grab my ancient copies of ICE's Arms Law and Spell Law, which described the trauma you sustain in vivid detail. It is quite possible in that system to have a first level character 1 Hit Kill a dragon like Smaug, with a good enough roll.
Sandy River Dl said:
The former bombardment Endbringer, better known as Lina Inverse.
Last edited:
I clearly need to re-read at least some of this fic because I've completely missed this, which chapter was it?
Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
Same chapter Clock ended up needing a Dragoning and demonstrated the flaw in the Nazi Bikini Twins' power.
Ardennes III is the relevant snippet.
that's not useful answer
thank you
Oh man, I hadn't thought of Rolemaster in years. I vaguely remember those descriptions.
Sadly, I'm pretty sure my copies of the books got lost in a move years ago, so I can't refresh my memory.
ah yes, Rolemaster, a system where a high level crit (it's a percentile based system, and if you roll 96-100, you roll again and add it to the total) can insta-kill a being that still has 90% of it's hitpoints. It can work that way for the monsters too, but the heroes (and important villains) have a limited number of Fate Points to force rerolls.
Of course rolling 1- 4 is a crit fail, and you roll again and subtract it from your total strike. There were some nasty potential fumble results too.
Last edited:
M. H. Fuzzball
Aperture Science-certified Horrible Person
- Location
- Sector 2814
I own the first season of Slayers, and I recall she actually did that at least once. Fortunately (?), Rezo stopped by shortly thereafter and fixed the room, or the inn she'd been staying in might have been unhappy.
grommile
nasty-minded old cynic
- Location
- NERV-Mercia
- Pronouns
- Traditional/Animate
"Try using a spatula."
Extremely late reply, but this is hilarious considering that Kamen Rider Gavv is literally based on food.But where did the food themed Kamen Rider come from?
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
You know, some stuff popped up on my feed on YouTube and... well, I am wondering if or when Ammit comes up, if she'll have the form that appeared in the Moon Knight television series. I mean, just... you know... it is... uh... well...
Ancient Egyptian Croco-Mommy.
Ancient Egyptian Croco-Mommy.
Archeo Lumiere
The Prince's Archivist
- Location
- Lumiose City, Kalos
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
Her voice really, really doesn't match the rest of her vibe. On the plus, Moon Knight is actually well researched DID based on another Moon Knight clip I saw.
14.13 - Undefined
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
Later that Evening
"So, how'd it go?" Miss Militia asked as they walked past the Shrine's last torii before the entrance.
"I'm still the figurehead leader of the ABB," Naurelin said as they approached the parked motorcycle. "And I've been asked to inform you that the Villain known as Lung should be considered dead."
Miss Militia got on her bike while Naurelin got into the sidecar. "That may be a hard sell," she finally said. "The man still lives, even though he says he's changed. We'll have to watch things carefully."
"At the moment," Naurelin stated as she adjusted her size slightly, "he wants a good hot bath, some good food, some time with his family and a good night's sleep in a good bed. From what he said, he's been gone from Brockton Bay for years, not months. Kinda like what we went through to make Athaerixen's ring."
Said name existed because after some tutoring from Garyx, Greg had chosen a name in Draconic for his normal, draconic self. Naichi, Naurelin and Sulazhaal had all thought it pretentious and unnecessarily edgy. However, Kurya, Sonngrad, Hlal, and Tiamat approved, all of them stating that it was more descriptive than pretentious. After all, his fire breath could burn anything he wanted it too.
Miss Militia nodded. "Well, local PRT policy was mostly hands-off for Lung before, it will probably remain the same. We'll watch and when something happens, we'll try to contain it or move it away from anything anyone cares about. Which used to mean into the Ship Graveyard. Let's hope we don't have to decide on a new sacrificial location." With a smooth motion, she started her bike and pulled out into the street.
"All in all, it's been really quiet," Miss Militia's voice came through the headset built into the helmet Naurelin was wearing. "However, they're not moving any of us out because a more hands-on approach is needed here. Thinkers are starting to scream and weep tears of blood when they look at Brockton Bay in general."
"Instead of the usual response of 'Oh my God, the teeth!' when they try to look at any of the dragons in the area?" Naurelin replied. She'd wondered if it was her Power intercepting Thinkers or Hlal was.
"They learned a long time ago to not do that," Miss Militia answered. "Under pain of having to do paperwork without using their Powers to help them. They were losing too much valuable time just sitting there, curled up in balls, or being pulled out of drunk tanks in Alexandria and Washington, DC."
Naurelin snickered. She'd been presented with some of the sanitized reports, which she was required to read, and then asked to try to not to do that too much to the Think Tank and Watchdog groups, at least deliberately. There were also some very lurid tales of what Thinkers did after trying to apply their abilities to the dragons of the world, including one Villain attempting to break into an asylum when their request for voluntary commitment was rejected.
Naurelin leaned back into the sidecar's seat. "I suspect Mizuchi will have a surprise waiting for her in a couple of days when she gets back home," she said. "The girl will be way too cheerful to be around for quite some time."
"Oh, I agree," Miss Militia said. "Then again, we all need some happiness sometimes. You can't be grim and dark all the time."
"Tell that to some Capefic authors," Naurelin grumbled. "Some of them took what's going on here, added a constant gloomy overcast, a foot of stinking muck, and had everyone making the wrong choices for the worst reasons."
"I try not to read any," the star-spangled Cape responded, "mainly because of that reason."
As they passed a park that had been left unmaintained for a while, they both spotted a familiar silhouette as they passed. When they turned to look again, the figure was gone.
"That looked like Oni Lee," Naurelin said. "Kinda smelled like him, too. Do ghosts have a scent?"
"I should've kept my mouth shut," Miss Militia grumbled.
Lina looked out at the sea from the porch of the house she and her sister were renting. The pay she was getting from the Protectorate and the bounties she, Luna, and Sylphiel had brought in meant that they could lead a life of leisure.
To be honest, that suited Lina just fine. She'd had enough traipsing around the countryside, living rough, shaking down bandits for their loot and the rewards from the authorities. She missed cleaning out all you can eat restaurants, but since that unprintable space whale had used her for a mind controlled servant, she hadn't felt the need to gorge herself like she used to. Despite feeling as if she could eat even more now.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Sylphiel had come out of the house, bearing a couple mugs of hot chocolate. The weather here was beginning to turn chilly, not that either of them could feel it.
"Eh, not worth that much," Lina answered while accepting the cup from her friend. "Just kinda down a bit, missing old friends and rivals." She took a sip from the cup of hot chocolate. "Mmm, good. Thanks." One of the things they all enjoyed was chocolate in all its forms, and quickly learned to moderate their intake of it, mostly so the store could keep something in stock for the rest of the town. They'd even restrained their mail orders to once a week.
"Something tells me we might be seeing them sooner or later," Sylphiel said after taking a drink of her own cup. "I mean, Luna tracked us down, who's to say the rest of our merry band of lunatics can't? Zel is far from stupid, neither is Amelia."
"Gourry, lovable as he is," Lina admitted, "couldn't win a battle of wits against a rock."
Sylphiel laughed. "True. Lucky, though, and honest."
"And only remembered you because of your cooking," Lina said, just as Sylphiel took another drink.
Lina was given the stink eye. "I'm assuming you timed that comment just so you'd get a spit take out of me?"
"Of course," Lina answered. "It's not like we could have a real fight without laying waste to most of the region." She took a drink from her cup.
And then she heard a specific something. A shiver ran down her back, and her hot chocolate exploded out of her cup.
Because, off in the distance, there had been a sound she dreaded: "Oh ho ho ho ho!"
A few minutes ago, someplace far, FAR away…
"Got you," a voice whispered in Her chambers, as She rested Her bones on the actually quite comfortable throne in the Hall of Blades in Sigil.
She gestured, connecting that one point in space with another point in another dimension, and looked through the small warp in reality. She saw an old house, with two individuals on the porch. One matched the description of the individual a certain party of adventurers were looking for, almost exactly. Not that She cared about their goals or actions. If anything, She wanted that mazoku gone. He didn't violate any of Her laws, but others of his kind would follow him if he stayed here, and old grudges would erupt into something that would make Her do something they'd regret, however briefly.
She moved the far end of the warp around the property, and soon found a perfect place to actually portal the group to the house. With a thought, She opened a much larger portal, and dropped the group and their belongings through.
After a moment of thought, She wrote a brief note and placed it where a certain "relative" would easily find it.
All in all, a job well done.
"Oh Hells," Lina swore. "How did she find me here?"
"Who is 'she'?" Sylphiel inquired.
"Naga the Serpent," Lina explained. "My self-proclaimed greatest rival."
"Ah, her," Sylphiel noted with some displeasure. "The Temple of Cepheid had to ban her from Sairaag for all the trouble she caused with that laugh."
Not so far away, they both heard a sneeze, and a familiar voice whined. "Someone's talking about me."
"Oh, be quiet you two," another voice added. "It's not like we asked to be dumped here by The Lady."
"Eh, not the first time I've been thrown out of a city," a very familiar voice stated. "Probably won't be the last."
By this time, both women were quickly making their way around to the front of the house, skidding to a halt when they caught sight of the five familiar faces. There was a moment of silence before the two groups, minus one mazoku, came together in a hug with much crying and laughter.
Off to one side, Xellos watched. The happiness and relief the group was giving off made him slightly nauseous, but he could ignore it. He understood that mortals needed this kind of release from time to time. Besides, he had more important matters to tend to. He turned to face Luna, who was glaring at him, stick in hand, and not looking too happy.
"So, are you going to cause trouble, Trickster Priest?" she asked, her voice carrying the full authority of her position.
"Most assuredly not, Knight of Cepheid," he replied with a low bow. "I am merely here to find out who is planning to end existence and persuade him not to do so." He straightened up and gave her a grin. "After all, that's our job."
Xellos felt someone loom behind him. He turned around and was looking straight at an impressive human male chest, dressed in a work shirt. Casting his gaze a little higher, he saw a face he'd hoped he'd never see again.
Ragnar Arneson, avatar of Zion, glared at Xellos, trickster priest of Beast Master Zelas Metallium.
Xellos' next words would be recorded for posterity: "Oh shit."
Kevin and Randall sat back in their shared man cave. "Man, it's been a while since we've gotten a chance to relax," Randall noted.
"The girls have kept us busy," Kevin added, cracking open a beer and taking a pull from the bottle.
"Girls tend to do that. There was that fishing trip with the Union," Randall said. "Managed to get some pretty good tuna and swordfish."
"I think the Union was more impressed with your cooking skills," Kevin shot back. "Really, what you whipped up from the ship's stores and caught fish was really good."
"Nice to know all that time I spend watching cooking shows didn't go to waste," his partner snarked back. "I got tired of instant ramen and cheap pizza."
"At least my Tinkertech pizza maker worked long enough to get some decent food made," Kevin said.
"Until it went feral and chased after Armsmaster," Randall snickered.
"Of course it attacked him! Armsmaster stated flat out he didn't like pizza! The machine got insulted and decided to try and force-feed the philistine some pizza to change his mind!"
"And then when it exploded, it covered the park with melted cheese, half cooked dough, and hot pizza sauce." Randall reminded his partner.
"I wish you hadn't reminded me of that part," Kevin grumbled. "Fortunately, Miss Militia realized we were trying to stop it, and let us help with the clean up and first aid. Netted us a little good will with the public."
"And a fairly large littering fine which we paid," Randall finished.
"Worth it. Anyway, once we got back from the fishing trip, we had to deal with helping a mermaid record a demo CD for a recording studio," Kevin continued.
"While strange, Ginny was nice enough about it and paid well," Randall added. "I could've done without the shovel speech from her father. Still, how many people can say they've met a direct descendant of the titan Oceanus and lived?"
"Wasn't there that one guy in New York in the '80s?"
"Maybe," Randall allowed. "He disappeared after some kerfuffle with the Secret Service and some researchers. Kinda upset we missed Naurelin's Dragon*Con live stream, and Glory Girl and Panacea's cosplay debut!"
"Still, it was freaking hilarious," Kevin added.
"And the terrorist attack that happened that weekend was an example of why you don't piss off a dragon, let alone at least two of them, plus the local Protectorate, Villains, and foreign Capes protecting their Embassies," Randall concluded. "Not to mention the cops, Department of Defense, and Department of State. You'd think they'd have avoided a predictable dogpile like that."
Both men looked at their now empty beer bottles. "So what do we want to do now, take over the world?" the Tinker asked.
"Oh hell no. Too much paperwork, plus your girls would kill us, followed by the dragons."
"True, man, all too true."
"So, how'd it go?" Miss Militia asked as they walked past the Shrine's last torii before the entrance.
"I'm still the figurehead leader of the ABB," Naurelin said as they approached the parked motorcycle. "And I've been asked to inform you that the Villain known as Lung should be considered dead."
Miss Militia got on her bike while Naurelin got into the sidecar. "That may be a hard sell," she finally said. "The man still lives, even though he says he's changed. We'll have to watch things carefully."
"At the moment," Naurelin stated as she adjusted her size slightly, "he wants a good hot bath, some good food, some time with his family and a good night's sleep in a good bed. From what he said, he's been gone from Brockton Bay for years, not months. Kinda like what we went through to make Athaerixen's ring."
Said name existed because after some tutoring from Garyx, Greg had chosen a name in Draconic for his normal, draconic self. Naichi, Naurelin and Sulazhaal had all thought it pretentious and unnecessarily edgy. However, Kurya, Sonngrad, Hlal, and Tiamat approved, all of them stating that it was more descriptive than pretentious. After all, his fire breath could burn anything he wanted it too.
Miss Militia nodded. "Well, local PRT policy was mostly hands-off for Lung before, it will probably remain the same. We'll watch and when something happens, we'll try to contain it or move it away from anything anyone cares about. Which used to mean into the Ship Graveyard. Let's hope we don't have to decide on a new sacrificial location." With a smooth motion, she started her bike and pulled out into the street.
"All in all, it's been really quiet," Miss Militia's voice came through the headset built into the helmet Naurelin was wearing. "However, they're not moving any of us out because a more hands-on approach is needed here. Thinkers are starting to scream and weep tears of blood when they look at Brockton Bay in general."
"Instead of the usual response of 'Oh my God, the teeth!' when they try to look at any of the dragons in the area?" Naurelin replied. She'd wondered if it was her Power intercepting Thinkers or Hlal was.
"They learned a long time ago to not do that," Miss Militia answered. "Under pain of having to do paperwork without using their Powers to help them. They were losing too much valuable time just sitting there, curled up in balls, or being pulled out of drunk tanks in Alexandria and Washington, DC."
Naurelin snickered. She'd been presented with some of the sanitized reports, which she was required to read, and then asked to try to not to do that too much to the Think Tank and Watchdog groups, at least deliberately. There were also some very lurid tales of what Thinkers did after trying to apply their abilities to the dragons of the world, including one Villain attempting to break into an asylum when their request for voluntary commitment was rejected.
Naurelin leaned back into the sidecar's seat. "I suspect Mizuchi will have a surprise waiting for her in a couple of days when she gets back home," she said. "The girl will be way too cheerful to be around for quite some time."
"Oh, I agree," Miss Militia said. "Then again, we all need some happiness sometimes. You can't be grim and dark all the time."
"Tell that to some Capefic authors," Naurelin grumbled. "Some of them took what's going on here, added a constant gloomy overcast, a foot of stinking muck, and had everyone making the wrong choices for the worst reasons."
"I try not to read any," the star-spangled Cape responded, "mainly because of that reason."
As they passed a park that had been left unmaintained for a while, they both spotted a familiar silhouette as they passed. When they turned to look again, the figure was gone.
"That looked like Oni Lee," Naurelin said. "Kinda smelled like him, too. Do ghosts have a scent?"
"I should've kept my mouth shut," Miss Militia grumbled.
= = = = = = = = = = = =
Lina looked out at the sea from the porch of the house she and her sister were renting. The pay she was getting from the Protectorate and the bounties she, Luna, and Sylphiel had brought in meant that they could lead a life of leisure.
To be honest, that suited Lina just fine. She'd had enough traipsing around the countryside, living rough, shaking down bandits for their loot and the rewards from the authorities. She missed cleaning out all you can eat restaurants, but since that unprintable space whale had used her for a mind controlled servant, she hadn't felt the need to gorge herself like she used to. Despite feeling as if she could eat even more now.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Sylphiel had come out of the house, bearing a couple mugs of hot chocolate. The weather here was beginning to turn chilly, not that either of them could feel it.
"Eh, not worth that much," Lina answered while accepting the cup from her friend. "Just kinda down a bit, missing old friends and rivals." She took a sip from the cup of hot chocolate. "Mmm, good. Thanks." One of the things they all enjoyed was chocolate in all its forms, and quickly learned to moderate their intake of it, mostly so the store could keep something in stock for the rest of the town. They'd even restrained their mail orders to once a week.
"Something tells me we might be seeing them sooner or later," Sylphiel said after taking a drink of her own cup. "I mean, Luna tracked us down, who's to say the rest of our merry band of lunatics can't? Zel is far from stupid, neither is Amelia."
"Gourry, lovable as he is," Lina admitted, "couldn't win a battle of wits against a rock."
Sylphiel laughed. "True. Lucky, though, and honest."
"And only remembered you because of your cooking," Lina said, just as Sylphiel took another drink.
Lina was given the stink eye. "I'm assuming you timed that comment just so you'd get a spit take out of me?"
"Of course," Lina answered. "It's not like we could have a real fight without laying waste to most of the region." She took a drink from her cup.
And then she heard a specific something. A shiver ran down her back, and her hot chocolate exploded out of her cup.
Because, off in the distance, there had been a sound she dreaded: "Oh ho ho ho ho!"
= = = = = = = = = = = =
A few minutes ago, someplace far, FAR away…
"Got you," a voice whispered in Her chambers, as She rested Her bones on the actually quite comfortable throne in the Hall of Blades in Sigil.
She gestured, connecting that one point in space with another point in another dimension, and looked through the small warp in reality. She saw an old house, with two individuals on the porch. One matched the description of the individual a certain party of adventurers were looking for, almost exactly. Not that She cared about their goals or actions. If anything, She wanted that mazoku gone. He didn't violate any of Her laws, but others of his kind would follow him if he stayed here, and old grudges would erupt into something that would make Her do something they'd regret, however briefly.
She moved the far end of the warp around the property, and soon found a perfect place to actually portal the group to the house. With a thought, She opened a much larger portal, and dropped the group and their belongings through.
After a moment of thought, She wrote a brief note and placed it where a certain "relative" would easily find it.
All in all, a job well done.
= = = = = = = = = = = =
"Oh Hells," Lina swore. "How did she find me here?"
"Who is 'she'?" Sylphiel inquired.
"Naga the Serpent," Lina explained. "My self-proclaimed greatest rival."
"Ah, her," Sylphiel noted with some displeasure. "The Temple of Cepheid had to ban her from Sairaag for all the trouble she caused with that laugh."
Not so far away, they both heard a sneeze, and a familiar voice whined. "Someone's talking about me."
"Oh, be quiet you two," another voice added. "It's not like we asked to be dumped here by The Lady."
"Eh, not the first time I've been thrown out of a city," a very familiar voice stated. "Probably won't be the last."
By this time, both women were quickly making their way around to the front of the house, skidding to a halt when they caught sight of the five familiar faces. There was a moment of silence before the two groups, minus one mazoku, came together in a hug with much crying and laughter.
Off to one side, Xellos watched. The happiness and relief the group was giving off made him slightly nauseous, but he could ignore it. He understood that mortals needed this kind of release from time to time. Besides, he had more important matters to tend to. He turned to face Luna, who was glaring at him, stick in hand, and not looking too happy.
"So, are you going to cause trouble, Trickster Priest?" she asked, her voice carrying the full authority of her position.
"Most assuredly not, Knight of Cepheid," he replied with a low bow. "I am merely here to find out who is planning to end existence and persuade him not to do so." He straightened up and gave her a grin. "After all, that's our job."
Xellos felt someone loom behind him. He turned around and was looking straight at an impressive human male chest, dressed in a work shirt. Casting his gaze a little higher, he saw a face he'd hoped he'd never see again.
Ragnar Arneson, avatar of Zion, glared at Xellos, trickster priest of Beast Master Zelas Metallium.
Xellos' next words would be recorded for posterity: "Oh shit."
= = = = = = = = = = = =
Kevin and Randall sat back in their shared man cave. "Man, it's been a while since we've gotten a chance to relax," Randall noted.
"The girls have kept us busy," Kevin added, cracking open a beer and taking a pull from the bottle.
"Girls tend to do that. There was that fishing trip with the Union," Randall said. "Managed to get some pretty good tuna and swordfish."
"I think the Union was more impressed with your cooking skills," Kevin shot back. "Really, what you whipped up from the ship's stores and caught fish was really good."
"Nice to know all that time I spend watching cooking shows didn't go to waste," his partner snarked back. "I got tired of instant ramen and cheap pizza."
"At least my Tinkertech pizza maker worked long enough to get some decent food made," Kevin said.
"Until it went feral and chased after Armsmaster," Randall snickered.
"Of course it attacked him! Armsmaster stated flat out he didn't like pizza! The machine got insulted and decided to try and force-feed the philistine some pizza to change his mind!"
"And then when it exploded, it covered the park with melted cheese, half cooked dough, and hot pizza sauce." Randall reminded his partner.
"I wish you hadn't reminded me of that part," Kevin grumbled. "Fortunately, Miss Militia realized we were trying to stop it, and let us help with the clean up and first aid. Netted us a little good will with the public."
"And a fairly large littering fine which we paid," Randall finished.
"Worth it. Anyway, once we got back from the fishing trip, we had to deal with helping a mermaid record a demo CD for a recording studio," Kevin continued.
"While strange, Ginny was nice enough about it and paid well," Randall added. "I could've done without the shovel speech from her father. Still, how many people can say they've met a direct descendant of the titan Oceanus and lived?"
"Wasn't there that one guy in New York in the '80s?"
"Maybe," Randall allowed. "He disappeared after some kerfuffle with the Secret Service and some researchers. Kinda upset we missed Naurelin's Dragon*Con live stream, and Glory Girl and Panacea's cosplay debut!"
"Still, it was freaking hilarious," Kevin added.
"And the terrorist attack that happened that weekend was an example of why you don't piss off a dragon, let alone at least two of them, plus the local Protectorate, Villains, and foreign Capes protecting their Embassies," Randall concluded. "Not to mention the cops, Department of Defense, and Department of State. You'd think they'd have avoided a predictable dogpile like that."
Both men looked at their now empty beer bottles. "So what do we want to do now, take over the world?" the Tinker asked.
"Oh hell no. Too much paperwork, plus your girls would kill us, followed by the dragons."
"True, man, all too true."