Jailbreak Exotic rhythms take over your body as you start to do a really silly dance. Your clumsy fist accidentally flies through the bars, knocking out a passer-by. I'm sorry, I don't think I can do that with all future input from betelgeuse. Since the whole ladder was approximately the height of the window in the first place, half of the ladder's height will not nearly reach.
The rungs from one end of the ladder-half easily and snugly fit into the holes of the other. With a little too much gusto, you send the rig sailing too high. You are a little bummed out that you missed grabbing the key by inches. You're quite certain there has never been, and never will be, a pumpkin in this room!
With a hefty mouthful of the other guy's urine, you decide to get revenge on the man below for botching the key situation. Overcome with nausea from the foul chain of events, you vomit.
You carelessly trip over a pumpkin which has clearly been in plain sight this whole time. He's too heavy to lift completely, so you drag him close to the door and prop him up. You start to feel sorry for abusing the guard so badly, and mumble an apology. For the first time in your 3 year imprisonment, it occurs to you to drill a large hole in the floor. Your most creative solution to the problem is to hoist your torso in the air and flail your legs.
You are putting the finishing touches on a robot you have built from ladder pieces. From atop your great mechanized mount, you command Logorg to break down the door, like a huge battering ram! You're not sure how you're going to get your brain into Logorg's head, or out of your own head for that matter. You decide all these thoughts of destruction should be offset by a little good earnest love making.
You've considered doing a lot of stupid things before, but this idea takes the cake! You don't even know where to begin addressing how stupid that idea is! With great prescience, you move away from the end of the intestine. I don't think I'm familiar with make a robot out of that guy!
Crushed by the loss of your prized automaton, your son of lumber, you are reduced to tears. You and your newfound buddy stand face-to-face, wondering what to do. You're just so angry about not being able to reach those sunglasses, you're about to lose it! It sounds like something was knocked loose on the other side. Not that you can afford to pay much attention to scenery, with your mind wrapped around the latest problem to sleuth , and your lips, around your flask.
You shout toward the moving truck, hoping someone might be willing to bust your problem , so to speak. You think you have a pretty good idea about how your office works by now. No clue is too trivial for the keen problem sleuth.
Now facing SOUTH, you pause to marvel at the beauty of your office wall mural celebrating ethnic diversity. Inside your fort, you are only bound by the walls of your imagination, and several small pieces of particle board.
This is what being a hard boiled problem sleuth is all about. You pick up the phone and mutter some impatient greetings into the useless receiver. You unplug the false window, which is probably burning through electricity with its powerful fluorescent bulbs and strange spatial warping properties. With the room darkened, you should now be able to see through the painting. The man at the desk is talking to a client about some sort of problem which requires sleuthing. Inflated electric bills or not, you are getting sick of stubbing your toe on things.
The door bears the brunt of the bottled-up shitstorm brewing within. The key which you can't actually see, and don't actually know is there, jingled a bit.
You take the cinderblock which was formerly your fort's front step. Since Ace seems so intent on being able to see into your office, it looks like you put up something for him to look at. It appears to be some kind of heating unit to keep the coffee hot.
With quick reflexes, you shove your hat through the hole in time to rescue the key. You keep the hidden recording device in your office to record anything said that might be incriminating. You remember you're pissed off at Ace Dick, and in addition to which, you haven't been able to pee once in the 13 and a half hours you've been locked in your office.
A little too late, you realize you should have peed on the card to stick it to Ace. He calls the number, hoping this one will bring satisfaction.
Suddenly, you are entirely dissatisfied with the condition of these horns. You feel safe and sound in the cozy confines of your wobbly particle board walls.
You answer the phone in the best Depression-era fast-talking way possible. You burst through Ace Dick's imaginary door, rolling up your nonexistent sleeves. You exit, but not before you leave and imaginary present on the floor.
Your phone is now missing three components, making it that much more difficult to answer this call from an undoubtedly hysterical dame.
It is the office of yet another one of your competitors, Pickle Inspector. You celebrate by mustering one of the silliest dances you've attempted in hours. Using your extraordinary strength due to your unusually high VIM characteristic, you lift the bust easily.
The bust crashed through the window, knocking out an employee of Madame Murel. The scaffold continues rolling, coming to a stop in front of your door, jamming it shut. You and Problem Sleuth will have to work together if you want to escape. The window loses it's extra-dimensional portal properties, and severs you mid-way through.
Behind the poster is another clown drawn directly on the metal. You have to unplug your large panoramic window from its portable generator first. First you organize all of the particle board into a neat pile to reduce clutter. The bust crumbles against the rigid surface of the unplugged window.
First you plug the window back in so you stop stubbing your toe on things. Now that the window is plugged in, you may effectively vent your rage with a heavy object.
You figure it's time to do something constructive for a change. By stacking two bust stands, you can easily reach the safe opening. It's your secret hideaway, a great place for ducking into when being persecuted by unscrupulous whores. It's Pickle Inspector, the poor sap trapped in his office by that petty bastard, Problem Sleuth. You suddenly feel weird about standing on the other side of an unpowered window.
In a stirring homage to the tubby boy "Chunk" in The Goonies, you lift your shirt and produce the most blubber-jostling jig you can muster. You really like The Goonies, and you think the beast probably does too, but you think a little restraint is called for in this situation. Problem Sleuth is already there, trying to get into the locked office. Problem Sleuth is gone. You find Problem Sleuth on the street. Your imaginary guns seem to be no more effective than pea shooters.
Problem Sleuth has been slain by the beast. You wake up from your imaginary boss battle with a very real hangover. Finally, you can field some phone calls from flustered broads! You don't know Pickle Inspector's number, or if he even has a phone. Problem Sleuth enters the back room. Bullets pierce the floor in a semi-circular pattern around the bust.
You enter your fort to escape the shrieking nightmare that has swallowed your life whole. The power in Problem Sleuth's office shuts off. The dame explains into the dead receiver, please don't go, she's been trapped in her apartment for hours and needs help. You enter your imaginary office, now with only two imaginary lives to spare.
You copy and paste your previous poses into a new file and animate the background rapidly. The great beast is ready for battle with a replenished health bar. Problem Sleuth goes for a stroll. Sensing your compatriots are in trouble, you decide to use your powerful legs to leap into battle. You show the beast what you, and fat kids everywhere, are made of. Problem Sleuth is slain. Your imaginary body cannot be sustained on the material plane!
This would be a horrible idea even under the best of circumstances. It looks like an apology note from Ace Dick, or something approximating an apology. Despite your most aggressive showing, the elves remain unmoved. BLOD notices a pornographic playing card has slipped into the deck.
Your VIM is simply not high enough to dislodge the instrument. You are a little disgusted to find a skeleton in your office. A compartment is revealed, exposing a powerful industrial fan. Problem Sleuth passes the KEY through the dumbwaiter slot.
Water from the flooded room spills into the hall, dousing the flames. You retrieve your ally's skull and drop it through the skylight. You have absolutely no idea how to solve this stupid puzzle and open the doors. Pickle Inspector politley suggests that he be allowed to try something first, before such extreme measures are taken.
There appears to be a convoluted puzzle on the opposite wall. There appears to be some commotion by the tree in the distance. You decide to bring your WINDOW with you, so you won't have to go up and down every time some goofball somewhere drops another cool item through the skylight.
A pair of funny looking hands places a pie on the windowsill to cool. You contemplate the civil approach, but you just can't do it. It appears the beast has defecated Problem Sleuth's imaginary remains, including his skull.
You wonder what magical realm this portal will lead you into. You crash against the back of the wardrobe, which is rock-solid. You are quite positive there has never been a teddy bear in your apartment, and never will be.
It's absurd to think there will be any strapping fellas in here, but on a day as strange as this one, who knows?? After going through a lengthy and mostly pointless series of events, you have finally managed to reassemble your phone. HD: Call the strapping sleuth fella one more time. You are a little disappointed, but can sympathize with his need to address the weird puzzle shit.
In this state of the game, it appears the really convoluted puzzle has been solved. In this state of the game, you have finally finished falling. The column extends easily into the ample space provided by the window.
You hit your head against the rear of the cabinet, spilling all the medicine. The hogs are enamored of your rowdy, no-nonsense brand of ruffianism. You blindly accept, and begin gathering melons into your parachute. You consider how to phrase the diplomatic request, but you come up empty. You return to the control room, but first you stop in your office and grab your window.
You are quite sure there are no Fancy Santas to be found in your room, but just to be absolutely certain, you look around. You head for the window and notice an enticing skull along the way. In spite of your tremendous stomach capacity, you pass out from over-eating. Ace Dick's imagination is too crude to have a female alter ego! The table contains smutty material which makes you highly uncomfortable. The mural seems to be a single tile in one of those really cool but somewhat dated photo mosaics.
Whoever was occupying this office has likely been trapped in here for some time. Your imagination is like an untamed stallion bucking through the cavity in your imaginary skull.
Once inside, you quickly set about turning its various organs into delcious candy. You take up the head of the negotiating table with high ranking officials from the four kingdoms. Well, ok you don't have a lazer, but you pump the beast full of hot sugar.
The aging machine noisily performs tens if not hundreds of mind boggling computations per second. You fade from the imaginary reality, leaving your final duplicate behind. It took a while to put it all together, so I hope you find it worthwhile. Panel edit by platinatina. Read More. Aries- Eat your children, scream in your face, stomp around in a murderous rage for 10 minutes then return to normal as if nothing happened.
Taurus- Will pin you against the wall and suck your fucking soul out. Not too bad, until you corner them. Punishment by sympathy. Virgo- Anger fires up their whiny glands! Most of these insults will come from relationship experience and poor choices in fashion. Possibly gets a snow cone later that night. Your back account will go mysteriously empty and none of your friends or family will speak to you. Aquarius- These guys will first hide and then call you and scream at you. They want you to know they run shit and that they control how the fight goes.
Pisces- Run into their room and scream into their pillow. Imagine your favorite character barging into your room this moment, grabbing your hand, and taking you with them into their world. Knitted Version Here. Take the God Tier test here!
My take on the God Tier and the way they are used in battle. None of these can be considered canon unless Hussie himself confirms it, either in comic or on his blog, so please do not consider them canon! Thank you! If you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask. Heir: an offensive class that defends themselves using their aspects. More or less similar to a warrior, although it can vary between aspects.
With offensive aspects, they use their aspect physically to attack the enemy and defend themselves. Witch: an interchangeable class, Witches are dependent on their aspects, and they manipulate their aspect to benefit their team.
Seer: a supporting class, they root out the weaknesses of the opposing team and use the weaknesses against them. Different aspects define different ways of detecting and using the weaknesses, as well as what said weaknesses are. A Seer of Heart could see your innermost desires and crush them before your eyes, while a Seer of Doom could see the ways to go about ensuring your demise.
Knight: a defensive class, they defend others by using their aspect. Having low attack but high defense, Knights die more often in battle than other classes.
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