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A sorry not sorry, this is very specifically their job. Attacks of opportunity and for defense only.
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Apr 23, 2023 02:02
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D. Skvababt covering the sky and playing overwatch seems most expedient.
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Apr 26, 2023 02:01
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Trouble on the Rim, Book 2, Chapter 9 Attack on Whale The Fourteenth of December, 347 A.R. Whaleian Outskirts Part 14: Rainbow Dash  The lead alligogre bellows an all-mighty roar to echo through the jungle, as his fellow warriors land around him with the sound of thunderclaps. At least thirteen feet tall and covered in scars, with fangs the size the size of chicken leg clubs he would be a formidable opponent indeed, where he not facing five companies of veteran monster hunters at once. There is only laughter as the jungle explodes with violence as the leader and the two closest alligogres are completely perforated by heavy crossbow bolts, javelins, throwing darts, throwing axes, knives, arrows, light crossbow bolts, rocks, metal spheres and one bottle of kvickfix slime, bodies toppling from the sheer weight of ordinance levied their way. A wall of spears and shields lowers as each company begins to square of with the remaining monsters, with ISTEC falling behind to deal with the skythreat and Ruth's Rangers taking off into the bushes for whatever their ends might be. Another volley fires before the alligogres retain enough composure to close to melee, killing another two outright and seriously injuring a third leaving only seven fit for fight. Even though the alligogres are heavily outnumbered they still pose a significant threat as they rush through the spearwall with terrible ease, breaking shafts or simply janking lengths of sharpened metal out of hunter hands or their own flesh if need be. The stampede sends many good honest imperial citizens flying every which way, though some of the smaller or more dexterous members find purchase in the canopy or from the ever present hanging vines, the more heavy set or slower of your number are battered and bruised, knocked prone if not out entirely. ISTEC, forming the second, skirmishing rank, avoids being trampled but must instead face off with the alligogre that got through, surrounding Skvababt in a protective half circle formation. You take the lead position, throwing your impressive buckler, waraxe combo against a beast at least three times your size with more than twice your reach with just its arms. Which still surprisingly maths out in your favour as the alligogre swipes with its claws and misses you by several comfortable inches. It's club is harder to duck however and you are forced to scatter lest you be turned into paste. Despite its advance into your formation, the beast is punished as Khamis iron scourge whips across its backscales, tearing into the muscle and ripping its natural armour. Abigail is quick to polevault on top of it, clobbering the thick skull of the alligogre like a high strung infant using their fathers dome as a drum. Sensing the opportunity you tumble underneath the alligogre and bury your axe in its right thigh, but you are kicked away before you can do lasting damage. The iron chain lashes out again catching the club wielding arm with its thick hooks causing the alligogre to lose its grip, the weapon falling to the forest floor with the wet squelch of undergrowth damping and dampening what might otherwise have been a heavy thud. You are uncertain if the club was ever even needed as you catch the brunt of a tailswipe with your shield as the beast rears for a leap. Meanwhile, skvababt crouches low, her eyes trained upward, keeping herself close at hand despite the risk, figuring known dangers easier to avoid that whatever else may lurk in the trees. Soon enough the shrieking shadow passes by overhead again, though the frog archer keeps her string strung, waiting no doubt for a better shot to present itself. Elsewhere the manic laughter continues, a deep and aggressive sounding dialect much different from your cousin~selfs sharper, more whispery raspy take on classic imperial. It is followed by a series of heavy gear-latching crankshaft noises, most reminiscent of the waterwheels that dotted the lonely river as you passed it by steamship not too long ago. The rhythm of industrialized murder, the heartbeat of the song of death. Another alligogre falls, somewhere and it makes a sound somewhere in between a gurgle and a yodel.  -- Interlude Slice of Life - The Dragon Peace and why some monsters appear sapient, yet do pay their taxes. Uniting the World, though ultimately successful, was costly. The scars rent by the battles fought to attain this Peace left swathes of land uninhabitable to regular folk, as the Powers that Were that had not been brought to heel under the Church fought tooth and nail to maintain their grip on existence. Their followers, though beaten utterly, did not all surrender. Some, driven mad by grief or anger simply fled into these new wild lands, out of reach for any but the most determined contingent of imperial militia or adventurous Paladin which for their part had the newly born empire to deal with in any case. Most of these zealous holdouts died in short order, victim to either infighting, wildlife (of which there was plenty) or lack of resources, or any combination thereof. Some didn't, however. Some took to the shadow beneath the Rim (the Wall, not the Emperor) or the nooks and crannies and caves and other stranger places of the world, and they survived. With their leaders gone however, and surrounded on all sides by beasts or worse, they soon became indistinguishable from the other monsters, if not mere stains on the pages of history. And though Rim’s reign was glorious, so too did it eventually end. With the death of Rim, steps had to be taken to ensure a Prosperous Empire. Without Rim to fight their battles for them, or to wisely lead by example, the high nobility, military leadership, senior clergy and burgeoning guild-masters stepped up to safeguard each and every imperial citizen, forming the Bureaucracy to better consolidate, tax and defend what was left. It did not take long for more problems to arise, the foremost of which were the Dragons. For you see, Dragons do not like other mortals decay with age. Instead, they grow stronger and smarter. This meant that those wyrmlings who had not perished in the war together with the other Powers, and had escaped hopeful Knight Errants, through mere passage of time, had grown Fierce indeed.  As to not dive face first into another world spanning war, negotiations began to take place between envoys of the empire and the more elder dragons, culminating in a very precarious deal known as the Dragon Peace. Under this statute, several territories were ceded in order to secure a few key provisions. The most important of which were as follows: Farmlands in the interior Rim shall not be constantly set ablaze, neither shall recognized cities be razed. Clutches in the dragonlands shall not be sought out and systematically crushed, though neither shall too many such clutches be laid. The dragonlands shall be off limits for official settling, though there is no prohibition to be laid on just moving through, as long as you do so respectfully. Neither side have fully kept to the deal, despite, or perhaps because of, Divine backing. Said dragonlands are not so much autonomous regions as they are sections of the map left blank and entitled ‘ere be dragons’ with a few exclamation marks thrown in for good measure. In truth, there is no real up to date geographical, military or political data on them as the Census Bureau has not been allowed to conduct their operations within. As such, scholars can only speculate as to their demographics (beyond ‘at least one dragon’) but it requires no big stretch of the imagination to envision such lands filled with all manner of beings that might not wish to be found. Do not let the Dragon Peace lull you into some sense that dragons as a species are united. They are not. Each and every dragon is different from the other and they rarely if ever convene or agree, if they talk at all. Neither do they have the Empires best interests at heart, they care ever only for themselves. -- Above the canopy it soars. A crackling rainbow, weaving in and our of the tree tops, drawn to the cries of its masters/subjects and the smell of fresh blood, spilled for its sake.  Diving down with lightning speed, setting fire to the very air itself, unstoppable – a force of nature - taking no heed of the whats and the whys, existing only as a self-sustaining End, the creature strikes the meleé head-first, entering and exiting through the back and chest of a bloodied drow and taking a large chunk of the Alliogre they were fighting with it on the way out, returning to the sky as quickly as it came. The drow falls to its knees, clutching at its breastplate and gasping as it bleeds out on the spot with the Alligogre ready to end its suffering. One third of a second later there is an arrow where the creature should have been, had it followed any laws of momentum at all. The alligogre is kind enough to offer its flank as a consolation prize, though the arrow barely pierces the thick scales. Still, the impact proves enough to distract it, letting the drow’s friends drag the soon-to-be corpse away before it would have been crushed to a pulp.  “Now ah’m not a Lady unused to, mhm, expedited interactions, but that critters’ slicker than a bridge seller and not half as courteous.” “Go on! Give it your best, we believe in you!” is what you want to reply but you are currently trying not to be stomped on and whenever you look her way, your voice sort of ties itself up in a knot and you just sort of smile and nod awkwardly in her direction. Instead, you attempt to outmaneuver a leg much larger than your entire body and wave your axe manically, clutching your shield close and rolling with what little advantage you have, you swipe another shallow line across the scales. Abigail is thrown off as the alligogre buckles and claws and Khamis chains clash with the tail, intercepted before it can reach the speed required to really deal any damage, but neither does the monster gain significant headway against your collected might. It is a stalemate of sorts, though one in which could be disastrously ended at any time, with but a bout of bad luck or clumsiness. More bolts fly as some of the monster hunters have gathered their bearings, but much less than before. Most of the fighters present are scattering to skirmish or surround the threat, with only the truly tanked-out or suicidal combatants standing to face such large opponents. One in particular catches your eye, clad in a wolf-cloak and menacing with a pole-axe such as they use in some regiments of the Imperial Militia, though his usage of it is unorthodox to say the least, using it as a prop for dancing as much as he is swinging it with intent to slay monsters.  There is another scream as feathers fly, these ones the white of down. Somewhere in the fray a duck warrior has lost its heart for battle, and with it another of your number dwindles, the second confirmed casualty in such a brief time-frame. Another arrow flies, this time anticipating the instant change in trajectory but missing by inches, having not accounted for the zig of its zag. Another arrow is let lose soon after, but the rainbow creature is far gone before the shot is even half-way across the battlefield. “This velocitatin’ varmint is getting on my nerves I tell you what.” “Would you be a dear and, mhm settle your ‘gator grapplin’ afore that elusive eel elopes with yet more cardinal essences? Find some way to slacken its hustle, or would you rather ah change focus? Perhaps it’ll vamoose if it gets ah big enough bite.” 1: Well, what will you tell her? A: Keep at it! You’ll deal with the Alligogre or die trying. B: yesmam. Try to disengage with the Alligogre long enough to figure out how to slow the Rainbow-thing down. Check your [inventory] for useful gadgets or come up with a write-in plan! C: Help! Ask Skvababt to focus on the Alligogres instead, preferably starting with the one you are fighting to a stand still. The extra firepower should tip the scales (heh) in your favour. D: Something else? Write-in.
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May 19, 2023 21:50
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C, that thing is ignoring the arrows. Kill the Gator and we can do something together. See, this would be a perfect opportunity for selective application of FOOF.
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May 19, 2023 23:49
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D. Deploy the Ghast-head smoke field so if something moves through it we'll see the smoke disturbed as it moves. If it isn't big enough, axe the bastards in in the back of the leg. Cut some tendons!
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May 20, 2023 02:53
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C, then see if we can bring our siege weapon to bear
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May 20, 2023 15:46
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Best frog is right
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May 20, 2023 16:44
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vorebane posted:C, then see if we can bring our siege weapon to bear This is a sneaking and infiltration mission. Whilst you could conceivably have any item in your inventory with you for the fight, your heavy siege weapon must be carried with a cart - and the terrain does not really allow it, unfortunately. Would probably skewer a gator pretty good, tho', if it had.
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May 21, 2023 12:02
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... ok but that doesn't tell us why the dragons pay taxes, just that there's a tentative peace. Are they autonomous tax paying regions, and if so, how is that tax levied?
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May 21, 2023 21:04
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Volmarias posted:... ok but that doesn't tell us why the dragons pay taxes, just that there's a tentative peace. Are they autonomous tax paying regions, and if so, how is that tax levied? Very Carefully. But no, Dragons follow no laws save the Dragon peace, and even that only mostly. They pay no taxes but may demand tithes by those passing through "their" lands. If some imperial citizen were to make their living in one of these regions, they would probably be required to both pay taxes AND tithe, so it's hard to see why anyone would want to. It's not like Dragons provide any real infrastructure or community programme save the occasional public barbecue. Also i Just realized I missed the word "not" in that slice of life title. I can see how that would muddy things. The correct title is "Slice of Life - The Dragon Peace and why some monsters appear sapient, yet do not pay their taxes."
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May 21, 2023 21:54
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Sounds like a problem a cupcake ballista is made to solve
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May 21, 2023 22:29
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C, it should be easier to focus on the dragon after the alligogre is dealt with.
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May 22, 2023 00:54
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Slaan posted:Sounds like a problem a cupcake ballista is made to solve The ballista is a solid backup to the universal problem solver FOOF.
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May 26, 2023 14:15
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What I'm hearing here is we need a way for our siege ballista to fit in our pocket.
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May 26, 2023 20:49
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Rub a cupcake on it, see if we can cast a spell or something.
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May 26, 2023 21:51
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vorebane posted:What I'm hearing here is we need a way for our siege ballista to fit in our pocket. No the ballista must be moved on a cart. We need a way for the cart to fit in our pocket.
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May 28, 2023 19:57
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Trouble on the Rim, Book 2, Chapter 9 Attack on Whale The Fourteenth of December, 347 A.R. Whaleian Outskirts Part 15: Rainbow Crash  Ducking another near miss scraggly claws passing just overhead you yell 'change of plans! Fill it with arrows, I'll get us some cover!' with no time to waste double checking that anyone could actually hear you, you disengage with a hop and a skip, hoping the others be enough to hold its attention whilst you fumble with your satchels. The Ghast head trophy that you claimed earlier has a sad, dried look about it. The skin is wrinkled and taught, the skull visible through translucent membrane and patched skin already flaking off. You remove it from its protective leather bag and hold it aloft, as if you were reciting a play. It stares at you, dead and dreadful, it's jaw agape as if screaming. Eyes hollow, withered pits drained of hope and life. Other hand trembling you fasten your axe to your belt and in the same motion undo your water-skein. Flipping the calcified slime cork off with a well practiced motion. This better work...  As the first drop of water hits the trophies forhead, a wave of force visibly ripples through the thing, unseen veins shooting across its cheeks to connect with even the tiniest amount of moisture. Increasing in intensity with each measure of water so obtained, the severed head swiftly siphons the flash of its contents, undergoing a startling transformation as it does. Swelling from inside, the once gaunt, starved features of your ill kept foes countenance engorge and glisten. The eyes, once mere depressions, fill unto pools of an inky black, swirling miasma, and from its mouth emits a constant stream of thick early morning fog. Obscuring you in an instant, it billows from your position on the battlefield, quickly covering your immediate vicinity in impenetrable mist. 'aim high!' you yell, uncertain now of where even the closest tree might be, let alone your companions, you crouch and raise your shield to cover your head and hope for the best. The alligogre bellows, it's thick legs and heavy feet crunching twig and tearing vine below, but it is as blinded as you are by the landborne cloud. Surrounded and without an obvious target, it rages and swipes all around itself, as if trying to kill the fog, whilst at the same time making itself a less desirable target to directly engage. All that thrashing about does however make it rather obvious where to aim, if you happen to have some reach to your weapon of choice. Within seconds, three shiny, slimy arrows are sticking out of the alligogres chest and even as it screams in wrath or pain another strikes it in the shoulder. You hear the unmistakable raps of iron chains dragging across some hard leathery surface, surmising that Khami must have landed another solid strike as well. By the pained roars from somewhere above you, this sudden strategic shift has proven effective.  The gas keeps pouring out of the ghasthead, thick as porridge and you keep yourself hidden, just out of reach of where you suspect your opponent to be. It lumbers in a daze, shouting something that sounds like it has actual meaning behind it as opposed to some animalistic grunt and you hear replies as well from elsewhere. The other hunters present, the people on your side, are mostly silent aside from occasional bark of orders and the endless laughing from that one dwarf in particular. There is a muffled explosion and the sound of something heavy falling. There are growls and roars and a mechanical buzz. There is a flash of light from somewhere far above you and you feel an impact on your shield, and then another and another and another and then all at once that force is gone though the high pitched whistle of something flying past you continues. You decide to keep very, very still and sink even lower to the ground as everything above has quickly turned into a storm of shrapnel.  From your new position you watch in astonishment as a tunnel is formed through the fog, as if a badger had formed an appetite for clouds, the edges of which crackle with static charge. An instant later the tunnel is filled with a solid light of every colour as a thin snake like being pushes past you like a flood, sparking electric arcs every which way along its path. Covered in sharp, thin feathers, it twists through said tunnel with enough force to send you flying. It does not, however, manage to strike you, nor judging from the lack of subsequent screams anyone else either, and new fog soon replaces old, filling the space of the creatures passage. You breath a sigh of relief before the gears in your head turn another peg and you realize that 'it leaves a trail before it goes!'' you shout as much to your own surprise as anyone else's. Not even really sure yourself as to the how of it, but none the less pleased as to the fact that whatever it is you are fighting at least has some physical presence, you hope that information is of use to someone as you prepare for whatever comes next.  You hear a mad howl as Abigail sails through the air to land somewhere beside you, unsure if she launched herself or was thrown bodily as is her won't, but before you can reach her to check on her health she has bounced right back up and disappeared into the fray once more. The very large and very angry humanoid reptile reaches for something and screams to the heavens. It thrashes about and attempts to flee, howling and gnashing. You hear other howls, but less than before. You see a section of fog grow thinner as Khami uses his chains to fan the worst of it away from himself, but as the source of obfuscation is in your arms you do not close the gap to your friend to invalidate his efforts. You see the flash again, further away this time but no less frightening. A short while later there is a sound that reminds you of a rush of air, though with a darker timbre and more gloopy. You also hear metal against scale and other more distressing battlefield ambiance. With a heavy bonk and a loud crash, the alligogre you are fighting tumbles somewhere out of sight as Abigail cheers, her more youthful and energetic laughter joins the darker tones of the berserking dwarven ranger over yon. You decide now is the time to get going, lest your foe creep out of your monster made hazard, and move, keeping your centre of gravity low, with shield raised to counter come what may in its direction. Another flash from above and you can see that tunnel forming again, though too far for you to reach it to present an obstacle. Knowing full well the force with which it travels, you throw yourself on the ground and duck for cover.  The air fills with static and that full speed full spectrum fiend shoots past once more. There is another flash and a short silence and then all your hair stands on end as the fog cloud is briefly fully illuminated in ultra bright white blue, just as if you had a front row seat to the source of a lightning bolts birth.  You drop your axe as electricity bites you and lose grip of the ghast head which tumbles away sizzling and scorched, no longer pouring smoke. Your muscles twitch and ache. You groan. You are dazed and dazzled and the world is a bright painful nothing. Your ears scream at you. You feel a hand on your back. Reassuring. "Wargble bargle." Your senses come to. Some of the trees are scorched or burning, but the jungle is wet enough that it wont catch for now. "Wargle braahg." You groan as you stand up and survey the scene - and see the other teams doing the same. Of the twenty alligogres you saw earlier, thirteen now lay dead. "Wrahboroughah braahreeiii." One has been pushed against a rocky outcropping and is soon to perish, judging by its obvious wounds and the mass of able bodied fighters surrounding it. Trails of destruction hint at a further three having fled the field with little regard for the safekeeping of flora. The various warbles slowly coalesces into more understandable speech.  "I say, are you alright ol' chap? That was quiet the scrap! There is blood on his sword, but otherwise Mr. Hobbson appears none the worse for wear. "Not to worry though, we've got it well in hand. Khami's back up again though he looks like he needs a rest. Abigail ran off somewhere, I'm sure she will be back soon. The ranger is...." "Perfectly fine and fabulously fetchin', if I do say so myself. Ah believe we scared them off, mhmMr. Ironscript. The big ones always falter, where the smoll might prosper."  "Yeees. At any rate, we should make haste to join up with Ruth's Rangers..."  "Ah, but just as the storm swallows suddenly, the sands must wash away slow. Treasure might lie beneath these hulks of flesh, that we would in our haste lose out on..." "He has a point, though the other hunters have already descended on their claims, I believe we have two or three to our name, if we can find the one that ran from me... It could not have gone far, with the wound I left it. Ah, is that Abigail now?"  "I found it! Well, not all of it. I think it got away. Most of it anyway. Whatever it was, the bird. Saw it crash, but then there was that flash and it was gone. I thought, hey, maybe they stop glowing when they die? So I went to check, but they don't. Or maybe they do, but it didn't. Die that is. But it dropped this."  +01 Feather Get! "Decently sure it was Skvababt who managed to hit it in the end, but there were a lot of arrows flying. I doubt anyone will complain if we take it though." "Finders keepers. Especially with the Right of Salvage. Still, there is something to be said of sharing the wealth. Perhaps we could barter with such a trophy, or curry favour with another team?" --- 1: What now? A: Each moment you spend here is another moment something else could go wrong. Just leave, and try to track down Ruth's Rangers. B: Stay a while, and loot-sen. It'd be a terrible shame if you missed out on the post-battle loot and merry-making, getting to know the other hunters and having a spot of rest would also be welcome respite before battle commences anon. 2: What should you do with the feather? C: Add it to the inventory for now. D: See if it tickles anyone's fancy!
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Jun 3, 2023 23:28
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A, C
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Jun 4, 2023 00:19
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BC
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Jun 4, 2023 00:54
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Jun 4, 2023 00:58
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Jun 5, 2023 19:45
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Jun 6, 2023 06:46
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BC. Nice update! You've got a way with words
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Jun 7, 2023 03:11
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Trouble on the Rim, Book 2, Chapter 9 Attack on Whale The Fourteenth of December, 347 A.R. Whaleian Outskirts Part 16: Respite and Reorganization You order your recruits to salvage what they can and take the opportunity to rest, if needed, whilst you yourselves attempt to strike up conversations with the other groups present. Besides Ruth's Rangers, whom have already left, there are five other groups of hunters in your division of the attack on the hives. The Breakers Dozen The biggest group. A few scruffy looking humans with decent gear, a gnome, Sacrifice Acquisitions Anonymous The smallest team, this group from the Baleens consists of Three Drow. Well, two now. They don't say much as they are tending to the wounds of the third member. Just from a quick glance you doubt they will survive the night. There is a charred pit in the upper left of the wounded soldiers chest, straight through the armour. Gerry's Grenadiers A tight knit club of fighting engineers from the Stocks, led by a fellow dwarf named something like Diore, gjor, Iore? George? Impossible to say through his heavy accent. Sporting a variety of custom built crossbows and alchemical devices, They are mostly unhurt. Of all the companies here, they have the most lackadaisical attitude. You attempt to question the leader about their fighting style and he gives you some very enthusiastic pointers with instructions that you do not understand at all. Something about belts? The Imperial Practical Preserve A group of mixed dwarves and humans, all ex militia and apparently highly experienced. They still wear their old uniforms, though whatever insignias that once heralded their brigades have been torn off, replaced with the IPP patch. They wield military grade armour and use pikes, tower shields and crossbows to deadly effect, with a side order of javelins. They salute as you approach and invite you to inspect the fruits of their labour, five freshly dispatched alligogres in various states of torn apart. Two of the other former soldiers are taking notes whilst two more are on watch. One is sorting through the monsters artificial gear with some difficulty due to the size difference and the last member is talking to you, though at the same time testing the hide of the nearest alligogre with his pike to feel out of any weak spots. Ivana Sendvic's Tyranofauna Extermination Company [ISTEC] Post-Battle Status You are unhurt. You do not have a headache, currently. You should go to Rim, but it can wait a bit. Skvababt is unhurt. Khami is winded and zapped, but mostly fine. Abigail has some bruising but is ignoring it. Mr. Hobbson appears unhurt. [ISTEC INVENTORY] Is there anyone in particular you would like to talk to, barter with, offer some sage advice or inventory?
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Jun 11, 2023 15:26
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Let us see if the Grenadiers have any FOOF or FOOD-adjacent BOOMs we can trade for
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Jun 11, 2023 17:10
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The small glass bottle marked with a T wouldn't happen to be Thermobaric would it?
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Jun 12, 2023 02:32
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FOOF! FOOF!
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Jun 12, 2023 07:23
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Any FOOF they have is FOOF they need for collapsing someone's place. Don't expect to get a good deal.
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Jun 12, 2023 13:41
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Godamnit Vorebane I don't want your logic I want FOOF
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Jun 12, 2023 15:01
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You ask around for explosives of any type, and whilst yes, there are plenty about, they are flagged for use in bringing down the Vespid Hive, the mission you are all currently on. Thus, none of it is for sale. You ask around for more information on your flask of T and find your answer quickly. "That'd be Purity" "What?" "Pure T. Purity. Get it? " "No." "Right, well, it's one of the more important alchemical whatsits, alchemicals. A clear liquid what is basically the opposite of water. You pour it on fire an' you get more fire. You drink it an' you die. You wash something in it, an' sure, the dirt comes off, but so does the paint. You breath in the fumes an you get all woozy an' fall over. Mostly, it's used to make other alchemicals on account of how much of itself it is, an how much it likes to turn other things into stuff what is on fire. Let's you turn pretty much anything into something that will burn if you need it to, at least for a bit."
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Jun 12, 2023 15:34
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"So if we get our hands on some FOOF we give it a dance partner in Purity over here. Got it." Wait. Waaaait a second. Is there enough that we could fill a dish and dip a Cupcake in it?
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Jun 13, 2023 02:30
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They seem roughly equivalent in volume, yes. You could pour some on a cupcake, but if what the hunter says is true it would probably just dissolve the icing? Or soak through and make it inedible. Or make it catch fire.
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Jun 13, 2023 07:11
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The idea of a cupcake molotov is quite appealing.
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Jun 13, 2023 16:01
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Swedish Thaumocracy posted:You ask around for explosives of any type, and whilst yes, there are plenty about, they are flagged for use in bringing down the Vespid Hive, the mission you are all currently on. Thus, none of it is for sale. Can we dissolve a cupcake in the Pure T and fire it out of the siege weapon? That seems like a great idea. Why doesn't it react with the flask?
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Jun 13, 2023 18:00
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 Cupcakes are for eating, not throwing or dissolving!
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Jun 13, 2023 18:39
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Outrail posted:Can we dissolve a cupcake in the Pure T and fire it out of the siege weapon? That seems like a great idea. You can do whatever you want. Would it be effective? I dunno, try it and find out. Outrail posted:Why doesn't it react with the flask? "''s Glass. Inert, innit? Ain't nothin' like glass with what to store alchemicals, 'ceptin' maybe some specific calcified slimetypes.'"
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Jun 13, 2023 18:50
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We need a solid glass suit of armour to battle acidic enemies.
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Jun 13, 2023 20:17
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We need a solid cupcake suit of armor to battle ghostcow enemies.
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Jun 13, 2023 22:44
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If nothing else, we'd have a psychedelic cupcake soaked in pure alcohol!
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Jun 13, 2023 22:50
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| # ? Apr 20, 2024 02:58 |
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honestly with a gnome, another special flower, and the right kinds of flammables we could probably make some kind of smoke bomb that let anyone (in it)/(looking in it) see the weird magic(?) spiritual dream zone we see post-cupcake. which, depending on conditions, might be more or less helpful than just another batch of cupcakes?  might also let whoever interact with the other side a bit, but would need a cakebomb to test that part out
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Jun 14, 2023 00:07
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