BangoSkank

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

It's still going, though the Bolts team now has four members.

Perchance! A Persistently Preposterous Perfidy of Petulant Pugilism : Moldovan Masked and Mustachioed Muscle Man from Mount Magora MEETS MOLE-MAN!!!!!

@Sniblet


AI generated Mole Man



AI generated Danger, Danger Fontaine

A Place for Bangos

New Version Coming!

Now With Less Writing and Less Funny for the Illiterate and Humorless!

Name: Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic
Race: Magical Future Quasi-Russian
Age: Like 40 but possessed a 27 year old Magical Future Quasi-Russian guy

Attributes:
S Rank

Addendum for the Chronically Humorless 1:

Addendum 1

S doesn't stand for Standard. It's like one step above A+

Megalomaniacal:

Through sheer irrational unreasonable confidence the man known as Danger, Danger Fontaine, prior to his transformation into Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic, was capable of sustaining unreasonable damage and persisting through that damage. Decades of steroid abuse probably helped too.

The man known as Danger, Danger Fontaine, prior to his transformation into Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic, was able to violate the boundaries of physics and reason and good taste push the boundaries of human potential by punching harder, kicking harder, and just generally being a kick ass dude.

Banished Bastard Son:

With the loss of his bastard child B-Rad the man then known as Danger, Danger Fontaine bent his will toward achieving more power and doing things more Big Leagueier. Finding that no earthly power could allow him to avenge the loss of his bastard son, he sought strength from the stars.

Eventually doing a lot of totally rad type shit culminating in him astrally projecting himself into the body of some very Magical and vaguely Future Russian guy in the future. That guy was also like a Power Ranger or something. But with that new body he kinda sort rescued his bastard child's soul but also kinda sorta fused his bastard child's soul into a Q-Bramble Blade, also known as a Q-BramBlade, but this specific one was named after his dead and banished and soul fused to a sword bastard son B-Rad. It was named Trilobisekni.

Addendum for the Chronically Humorless 2:

Addendum 2

A Q-BramBlade is essentially a future space power sword. Like a katana, you know a sword. But future-y.

Power Ranger Type Shit:

Magical Future Russian dude was like a Power Ranger, so now Danger, Danger Fontaine is Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic and has a space ship somewhere and it's pretty radical.

Ranger Blaster and weird little sword that is also an ocarina or some shit. Power Ranger type shit stuff.

Addendum for the Chronically Humorless 3

Addendum 3

Power Ranger Type Shit refers to the actions and abilities generally seen in the American children's series Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. Karate type shit. Some parkour type shit. Jumping oddly high. Dancing a lot for reasons not made clear. Poorly dubbed speaking parts. Often color coded.

Equipment:

Trilobisekni:

Q-Bramble blade, sometimes referred to as a Q-Bramblade, polished to an intrinsically implausible sheen. Trapped within it the soul of his Bastard Child, B-Rad. Ever pleading in perfect iambic pentameter to be loosed upon the world. Its name was Trilobisekni.

Only one such as he, Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic, could wield such a blade and only with it could any being even dream of performing the secretive manuever known only as the Hiden Doblee Triplut Forbidan Yin Releese Ohm-Mega.

Seriously though this isn't just flavor text. Trilobisekni will not work for anyone else.

Addendum for the Chronically Humorless 4:

Addendum 4

Trilobisekni is about the size of a standard German Langseax. Langseax is German for Longsword, but Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic is not German he's Magic Future Quasi-Russian.

It's about 30 inches long and generally appears to be made out of a simple metal but is as previously mentioned made out of Q-Bramble.

Rather than use your imagination in this RP here is a reference image.

Axiom Gun

An oddly sleek almost plastic looking blaster pistol. It looks like a light gun for a failed console from the late 80s or early 90s. Garish. Stupid. Obnoxious.

Inside is a small plasma reactor that allows it too shoot indefinitely, except that as it shoots it builds up heat and must then be allowed to cool down. If it overheats instead of shooting a blast of plasma at high speed a very respectable distance (50 feet) it just sort of blurts out. Very embarrassing. Anticlimactic.

Fontaniuxiciccix 4

Very dark, like a hole punched through the otherwise, comparatively, actually quite bright total darkness of deep space, the Fontaniuxiciccix is an Alderson Disk.

An astronomical megastructure with absurd near limitless power, alas Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic broke the key off in the door to the Extra-Double-Actually-Genocidal Control Room and is now left with less than an Eighth of its facilities. That's still a hell of a lot though. It's like several football fields. Its mass is probably greater than the mass of your sun unless you have just a super humongous sun.

Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic mostly uses it to store his Zords and equipment and trophies and sometimes have a bitching party or two. It also has a really nice snack bar.

Future Russian Aromatic-Polyamide Weave NOT Power Ranger Suit

All scientifical. Skintight suit of Future Russian Aromatic-Polyamide Weaved Technical Suit Things. Better than the real life version as one would expect given it's a Future Russian version of the tech. I cannot over emphasize how tight it is. Excellent at heat dispersal allowing him to just plummet from space onto a planet with naught but the faintest, and slightly arousing, warmth. This is due to Future Quasi-Russian advancements in heat dispersal techniques integrated into the Future Russian Aromatic-Polyamide Weaving process and to the Future Russian Aromatic-Polyamide Weave itself.

Like a Black Power Ranger uniform except it's also like hooked into his brain or suit or soul or something (possibly his ass) so it can change colors and designs at his beck and call. It's not alive or anything. Definitely not self aware and slowly consuming his consciousness and biological components for some nefarious future scheme. That's canon, that it's not doing that. Another it's not doing is chafing his balls. They are very cool and breezy.

It also has a Recursive Diolunium Dial. What purpose it serves is unclear but Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic is forever fiddle fucking around with it.

Due to his vaguely Russian Future Magic Thaumic Tech and also body Dangeruttito Fontainiuxic is able to interface with his suit just so fucking fast you would be shocked by how fast those two interface. It may have something to do with that rumor about it porting directly up into his butt. But that may just be fake news, I'm not gonna ask him.

Addendum for the Chronically Humorless 5:

Addendum 5

It is black and grey and it looks like a Power Ranger suit except the chest symbol is some weird Future Quasi-Russian letter instead of whatever Power Rangers usually have.

It interfaces with him via nodes in the suit and their proximity to nodes in his skin, because he's a weirdo and also a Future Quasi-Russian Power Ranger. The nodes have probably fused together but this point so he can't really take the suit off, but when do you ever see the male characters take their costumes off? Thats strictly for the female character's extended shower scenes.

Panoptic Hex Texx-Gogs

Also known as his Goggles, Goggs, Goggos, Seers, and Oakleys. They allow him to zoom in, zoom out into Third Person somehow, or "Enhance," whatever that means, and have Night Vision, Thermal Vision, Day Vision, and also a Color Blind mode to ensure full accessibility for the differently abled.

Exclusion for the Chronically Humorless 1:

Exclusion 1

Also just so many other vision modes that the little Thaumic AI or Demon or enslaved genetically grown and ritually bound Proto-Biblical Angel (like the ones that some kind of Four Dimensional Series of Interlocked Rings with eyes all over them constantly ringing or something. The trippy shit that looks like a Yugi-Oh designer smoked meth and worked a bender to come up with) flips through rapidly to acquire and maintain targeting on opponents. Kinda nifty, maybe a war crime, maybe sacrilegious, maybe disproves the existence of God and clarifies that we really are all ultimately out here alone spinning around on a fuck off big dipshit space rock in an unfathomable sea of nothing waiting for pure happenstance to crash another fuck off big dipshit space rock into us and end this miserable fucking experiment once and for all and hallelujah for that am I right, but definitely nifty though.

Addendum for the Chronically Humorless 6:

Addendum 6

It interfaces with him very quickly due to the previously mentioned nodes in the suit and the corresponding nodes in his flesh. Also because it is a Magical Future Quasi-Russian Power Ranger Suit and he is a Magical Future Quasi-Russian Power Ranger.

Outfitted with a Xeogenix Toggle allowing him to instantaneously quickly manipulate the Muon Input through the full spectrum of Muu, carefully so as to avoid a full on Muonnic Conclipse.

Addendum for the Chronically Humorless 7:

Addendum 7

A Muonnic Conclipse is a Noodle Incident and indeed a made up word. It is not way beyond LP. Further it's not listed as something he can do or would want to do, it's listed as something he avoids.

Addendum for the Chronically Humorless 7.5

Addendum 7.5

To be extra explicit because it seems like I'm gonna have to be for some reason. He cannot deliberately cause a Muonnic Conclipse and I dare you to prove he can. You probably don't even know what it is. Since I invented it.

Thaumic VocoRecordoer

Integrated into his suit or maybe chest or throat or something, it allows Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic to make his voice sound like less of a bitch. Vital tech.

Also allows him to speak directly to anyone on his team through brain waves or some shit. Consent not required. If you're on his team you literally cannot shut him up. It's a vaguely future Russian Thaumic yada yada type deal. Dangerrutito doesn't know how it works he just knows that it does work. Dangerrutito is an idiot. Or a genius. Depending on which is most convenient in the moment.

Addendum for the Chronically Humorless 8:

Addendum 8

It operates using Backwards R Rhi, which is like Future Russian Chi, but also high tech. So high tech the Future Russians like to call it a Backward R Type Telepathic Brain Chip Doohickey when they surgically install it on your brain.

Special Moves:

Hiden Doblee Triplut Forbidan Yin Releese Ohm-Mega:

_{shhhhh, it's a secret, a thaumic secret}

FUCKIN MORPHIN' TIME BITCHES:

Not quite remembering the series Power Rangers correctly this is the phrase Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic shouts just before doing some weird weebish hand and finger gestures and whistling a tune to summon one of his Zords. That is a series of increasingly preposterously large and inexplicably humanoid shaped robots that all do mostly the same things he does but more biggly and to increasingly ludicrous proportions. Generally whatever magic space God currently ruling indicates is within Tier. For me. And no one else. Huzzah!

He comes in from space. Quickly. Like at terminal velocity. Meaning it takes some prep to get him into the fight.

Special Addendum for the Functionally Illiterate and Chronically Humorless:

Addendum Especial

The impact of my characters Zord is for me to determine. Not someone else desperate to avoid having to deal with it.

If it doesn't hit you, you are hereby officially restrained from pretending it did and crying about it to delay this for another four months.

You're also restrained from trying to convince people that my post says something that it explicitly doesn't say, particularly when I kindly point out that it doesn't say that and I didn't intend it to say that when I wrote it, which is why it doesn't say that.

His soul trapped bastard son sword thing, Trilobisekni, also grows way bigger for reasons that are not self evident.

It also has a soul gun (which is powered by the souls of his vanquished enemies or any random disembodied souls he finds wandering around) and is capable of badly damaging small office buildings in a single shot and/or massive quantities of unarmed civilians if they are all gathered, against their will or otherwise, in a sufficiently small space and/or just like really really messing up their weekend plans. What with the crippling and massive blood loss and all.

If that is too powerful he has a series of other gun with names like Universe Gun, Planet Gun, Your Mom's Fat Ass Gun, Country Gun, State Gun, City Gun, City Block Gun, Normal Block Gun, Large Building Gun, Small Building Gun, and Crack Den Gun. Their names are self explanatory.

In this form he is known as Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu.

Fun Facts About Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu

8 Stories Tall and Ready To Ball

Cannot actually ball, excessive weight prevents him from jumping very high

Speed Wise, isn't. Moves about as fast as a human sized up to eight stories tall would, assuming their bones and muscles and shit didn't collapse under their own weight. Except a little slower than that because Zords were never particularly coordinated in their movements.

Speed Wise In Regard to Arrival on Scene, as in keeping with established cannon of the Mighty Morphing Power Rangers universe, Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic has to do some dumb shit weeby thing with his hands and arms or hum a little tune or play on an Ocarina or something to summon his Zord. And then you need a little introduction animation to play. Thus its arrival on the scene requires prep. Prep in direct proportion to the prep required for other similar attacks. Usually meaning can't arrive in the same post it's being summoned in, unless that's being allowed for other similar things. Air drops in, usually directly on to weird little Naruto Runners who think they're hidden but are not.

Strength Wise, pretty strong. Could definitely deadlift your mom. Can punch through buildings but it will take awhile if they're big. Can stomp out a fast food place in one or two stomps if they fuck up his order. Three stomps if he asked for fresh fries and they gave him stale ones, but that's just because he is being petty and vengeful.

Special Mobility Options: Also None

Special Transformation Form: None. He is nothing in disguise. Except an idiot. It's not an effective disguise.

Duration: Until the end of the fight or destruction. Sometimes longer if Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic is distracted and forgets where he left his Eight Story Tall Zord.

Dropped right on some weird guy who was sitting at the bottom of a pond and thought he was invisible once. RIP that very forgotten mysterious creep

Powered by Death

Emboldened by Misery

Intrigued by Puppies

Aroused by Regrets

(Those could be metal band names)

The shout of countless vengeful souls roar through the bitter hail of oversized cast-steel munitions for its slag-drooling arm mounted cannons, and the lamenting screeches of their women provide a sick backdrop for Trilobisekni to rap to

A Place for Bangos

Character Sheet Part Deux because suddenly as soon as I post we're pretending to care about rules.

WELL
LA DEE FRICKEN DA

Name: Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic
Race: Homo-Superior-As-Fuck
Age: Like 40 but possessed a 27 year old Magical Future Russian guy

Attributes:
S

Megalomaniacal:

Through sheer irrational unreasonable confidence the man known as Danger, Danger Fontaine, prior to his transformation into Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic, was capable of sustaining unreasonable damage and persisting through that damage. Decades of steroid abuse probably helped too. The man known as Danger, Danger Fontaine, prior to his transformation into Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic, was able to violate the boundaries of physics and reason and good taste as easily as Bill Clinton does the institution and boundaries and history and that type shit of an Internship by punching harder, kicking also harder, kicking ass also also harder, and just generally being a kick ass muhfuka of a dude.

Banished Bastard Son:

With the loss of his bastard child B-Rad, banished beyond the realms of sight and sound to a twilight zone, sort of like from the television show called The Twilight Zone, the man then known as Danger, Danger Fontaine bent his will toward achieving more power and doing things more Big Leagueier. Finding that no earthly power could allow him to avenge the loss of his bastard son, and thus his only hope of ever banging his bastard son's mom again (or even remembering what her name was, pretty sure it had an E or an A in it), he sought strength from the stars.

Eventually doing a lot of totally rad type shit culminating in him astrally projecting himself into the body of some very Magical and vaguely Future Russian guy in the future. That guy was also like a Power Ranger or something. Hard to tell. But with that new body he did a lot of deep lore type stuff that culminated in him kinda sort rescuing his bastard child's soul but also kinda sorta fusing his bastard child's soul into a Q-Bramble Blade, also known as a Q-BramBlade, but this specific one was named after his dead and banished and soul fused to a sword bastard son B-Rad. It was named Trilobisekni.

Power Ranger Type Shit:

Magical Future Russian dude was like a Power Ranger, or a God, or Boba Fett, or maybe some kind of tyrannical slave trader or something. Not really clear on that. But now Danger, Danger Fontaine is Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic and has a space ship somewhere in the Double Deep Jeiti and also knows a lot of weird words like Jeiti that didn't exist before but now most fully do exist and it's pretty radical.

Ranger Blaster and weird little sword that is also an ocarina or some shit. Probably like a crossbow. Power Ranger type shit stuff.

Equipment:

Trilobisekni:

Neoborhilliumium Manticulated with obnoxious precision into an Q-Bramble blade, sometimes referred to as a Q-Bramblade, polished to an intrinsically implausible sheen, it was his ultimate adytum. It went by many names. The Blade of Legend. The Sword of Myth. The Katana of Dread. The Loosener of Shackles. The Remover of Bras. The Sabre of the Downtrodden. The Zweihander of the Einhanded. Fucking Cool Sword Bro. Trapped within it the soul of his Bastard Child, B-Rad. Ever pleading in perfect iambic pentameter to be loosed upon the world. It's name was Trilobisekni.

Only one such as he, Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic, could wield such a blade and only with it could any being even dream of performing the famed but also completely unheard of and just super mysterious and secretive manuever known only as the Hiden Doblee Triplut Forbidan Yin Releese Ohm-Mega.

Seriously though this isn't just flavor text. Trilobisekni will not work for anyone else. It'll just go all limp and floppy and useless and no one wants that, trust me brother, I could tell you stories but they're all deeply shameful and telling them makes me cry when I'm alone at night and I end up eating a full pint of Chunke Monke all one in my Superman underoos wondering how come daddy left us. Don't try and steal it is what I'm trying to say. It can probably teleport away from your dumbass or something too. B-Rad already lost his dad once so his disembodied and soul trapped soul probably isn't gonna hang out with you. You nerd. You L7 weenie. I'm not crying you're crying.

Fontaniuxiciccix 4

Atramentously Vantablack like a hole punched through the otherwise, comparatively, actually quite bright total darkness of deep space, the Fontaniuxiciccix is an Alderson Disk, though Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic sometimes calls it an Alfredo Disk. An astronomical megastructure with absurd near limitless power, alas Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic broke the key off in the door to the Extra-Double-Actually-Genocidal Control Room and is now left with less than an Eighth of its facilities. That's still a hell of a lot though. It's like several football fields. Its mass is probably greater than the mass of your sun unless you have just a super humongous sun.

Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic mostly uses it to store his Zords and equipment and trophies and sometimes have a bitching party or two. It also has a really nice snack bar.

Aromatic-Polyamide Weave NOT Power Ranger Suit

All scientifical. Skintight suit of Aromatic-Polyamide Weaved Technical Suit Things. I cannot over emphasize how tight it is. You can see like veins and stuff through it it's so tight. Yet also very resilient. Excellent at heat dispersal allowing him to just plummet from space onto a planet with naught but the faintest, and slightly arousing, warmth.

Like a Black Power Ranger uniform except it's also like hooked into his brain or suit or soul or something (possibly his ass) so it can change colors and designs at his beck and call. It's not alive or anything. Definitely not self aware and slowly consuming his consciousness and biological components for some nefarious future scheme. That's canon, that it's not doing that.

It also has a Recursive Diolunium Dial. What purpose it serves is unclear but Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic is forever fiddle fucking around with it.

Due to his vaguely Russian Future Magic Thaumic Tech and also body Dangeruttito Fontainiuxic is able to interface with his suit just so fucking fast you would be shocked by how fast those two interface. It may have something to do with that rumor about it porting directly up into his butt. But that may just be fake news, I'm not gonna ask him.

Panoptic Hex Texx-Gogs

Also known as his Goggles, Goggs, Goggos, Seers, and Oakleys. They allow him to zoom in, zoom out into Third Person somehow, or "Enhance," whatever that means, and have Night Vision, Thermal Vision, Day Vision, and also a Color Blind mode to ensure full accessibility for the differently abled.

Also just so many other vision modes that the little Thaumic AI or Demon or enslaved genetically grown and ritually bound Proto-Biblical Angel (like the ones that some kind of Four Dimensional Series of Interlocked Rings with eyes all over them constantly ringing or something. The trippy shit that looks like a Yugi-Oh designer smoked meth and worked a bender to come up with) flips through rapidly to acquire and maintain targeting on opponents. Kinda nifty, maybe a war crime, maybe sacrilegious, maybe disproves the existence of God and clarifies that we really are all ultimately out here alone spinning around on a fuck off big dipshit space rock in an unfathomable sea of nothing waiting for pure happenstance to crash another fuck off big dipshit space rock into us and end this miserable fucking experiment once and for all and hallelujah for that am I right, but definitely nifty though.

Outfitted with a Xeogenix Toggle allowing him to instantaneously manipulate the Muon Input through the full spectrum of Muu, carefully so as to avoid a full on Muonnic Conclipse.

Thaumic VocoRecordoer

Integrated into his suit or maybe chest or throat or something, it allows Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic to make his voice sound like less of a bitch. Vital tech.

Also allows him to speak directly to anyone on his team through brain waves or some shit. It's a vaguely future Russian Thaumic yada yada type deal. You might want to know more about it but I ain't wanna be telling you none and Dangerrutito doesn't know how it works he just knows that it does work. Dangerrutito is an idiot. Or a genius. Depending on which is most convenient in the moment.

Passive Abilities

Ultima-Counteruuu

A secret passed on to the Magical Future Russian guys people, who are Magical Future Russians, they learned it from Secret Alien Ninjas From The Long Distant But Double Futuristic Past, it allows Dangeerutito Fontainiuxic to counter whatever it is you are trying to do. All of the things. Including that. Sadly as the Magical Future Russian he possessed was the last of his kind, and all the Secret Alien Ninjas From The Long Distant But Double Futuristic Past died in an unfortunate Muonnic Conclipse or some shit who fucking cares the important thing is they're all seriously just dead as fuck, Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic is the last and only practitioner of the Ultima-Counteruuu. This ancient art will die with him.

Special Moves:

Hiden Doblee Triplut Forbidan Yin Releese Ohm-Mega:

_{shhhhh, it's a secret, a thaumic secret}

FUCKIN MORPHIN' TIME BITCHES:

Not quite remembering the series Power Rangers correctly this is the phrase Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic shouts just before doing some weird weebish hand and finger gestures and whistling a tune to summon one of his Zords. That is a series of increasingly preposterously large and inexplicably humanoid shaped robots that all do mostly the same things he does but more biggly and to increasingly ludicrous proportions. Generally whatever magic space God currently ruling indicates is within Tier. For me. And no one else. Huzzah!

His soul trapped bastard son sword thing, Trilobisekni, also grows way bigger for reasons that are not self evident.

It also has a soul gun (which is powered by the souls of his vanquished enemies or any random disembodied souls he finds wandering around) and is capable of destroying skyscrapers or office buildings in a single shot and/or massive quantities of unarmed civilians if they are all gathered, against their will or otherwise, in a sufficiently small space. destroying entire galaxies in a single shot and/or just like really really messing up your weekend plans. Which would then power the gun up. Very convenient. It is named the Galaxy Gun, due to its power. Or GG for short, which is an acronym.

If that is too powerful he has a series of other gun with names like Universe Gun, Planet Gun, Your Mom's Fat Ass Gun, Country Gun, State Gun, City Gun, City Block Gun, Normal Block Gun, Large Building Gun, Small Building Gun, and Crack Den Gun. Their names are self explanatory.

In this form he is known as Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu.

Other Stuff That's Important:
(and yes I changed the format, I can't be bothered to do all that for these stupid ass revisions)

Zetaproctal Universal Kinesohypothetical Drive

Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic has a Future Russian Thaumic Zetaproctal Universal Kinesohypothetical Drive. Do not call it a Z Drive or a ZUK Drive. That is reductive and rude. Call it by the full name or shut your mouth. Please and thank you.

His Zetaproctal Universal Kinesohypothetical Drive allows him to move in "sync" with everyone on his team if he so chooses. Precisely how it functions is deliberately unclear but it double definitely does so please just move on now.

Basically Just A Bad Ass You Guys

Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic is a Homo-Superior-As-Fuck. That wasn't just a dumb joke. It is a dumb joke but it's not just that. Meaning like Human But More Better As Fuck, and no other weird stuff. It doesn't mean any weird shit. That's all rumors. It's all hearsay. I object. Side bar. You want the truth? You can't handle the truth! YES THEY DESERVED TO DIE AND I HOPE THEY BURN IN HELL!!

But this means he is like 40 times stronger than the strongest human that ever lived. He can move at whatever the in-Tier maximum is for whatever the Tier he's fighting in is. He's also very intelligent, like he makes 1940 (or whatever I don't do history that's for nerds) Albert Einstein look like 2026 Joe Biden in the brains department. That begs the question why is he locked out of most of his ship but that's a conundrum for another day.

His Shit Is Extra Cool Because All His People Got Assploded Or Sum Shit

It is canon, for now, that all of his people died in a big cataclysmic planet explosion type deal. Maybe a Muonnic Conclipse, I dunno I wasn't paying attention when I wrote this shit. I'll edit it into my character sheet later, after it's been submitted I mean, because that's an OK thing to do. It might have been Super Space AIDs actually. Or they actually did leave the oven on and were pretty much sure they turned it off but they didn't, they left it on and it burned the whole planet down. Or maybe he just killed them all so that no one would be able to hack or decode his cool doohickeys and shit.

Anyway the important thing is there aren't any other living members of vaguely Future Thaumic Quasi-Russian whatever I'm calling this Race alive anywhere. Because of that no one can hack or decode his cool doohickeys and shit. Very convenient.

Oh Neat Me Too

This allows Dangerrutito to do all the blatant absurdly out of any even vaguely reasonable tier stuff that others in any given fight can do. It is either a super helpful ability or completely useless depending on if anyone in the fight tries to like fiddle fuck with space time or manipulate space and dimensions or do some pansdimensional (sp) shit or say they can fight with multiple Gods for days back to back without getting tired or summon portals or be a Star Diety. Shit like that.

Either a super handy catch all or a complete waste of time depending on stuff. Good old stuff.

Sup, its ya boi POOHEAD189

Admin or not you're still a Poohead to me.

Sounded better in my head.

Congrats. You're around more than just about anyone else so you're a good pick. By default. But that's still a technical victory. And technical victories are the best kind! (That's a Simpsons paraphrase)

How Little We Know

Richard Moreau

He cried shamelessly. Shoulders heaving. Head down. Hands in his knees. Snotty nosed. Trying but failing to speak.

"Well Richard? What do you have to say for yourself?"

He shuddered anew with the finality of it all. He knew what was coming. They'd done this before. In the last year. Since the opening. All the empathy was gone. They didn't have to just go along to get along anymore. They had a new solution for the troublesome. They could be made to disappear.

"I...." these would be his last words recorded for posterity. They would ask him if he was done. He would tell them he was. That would be recorded curtly. It didn't matter if he swore or cursed them all the way to the door. It would be recorded as "Former Citizen Moreau confirmed he had completed his final statement and so began his exile on this the 28th Day of September 2093"

There was only one suitable answer.

"I loved her."

His head sank again. Lower, under the weight of all those eyes. They had seen him all his life. All the little wrongs, all the bad habits, all the good deeds too. Everything. But within the next few moments they would never see him again and he would never see them. And she wasn't even here. She could have been, but dammit she wasn't. She was probably with him. Still. Even now. Hand on his gravestone instead of here with him. With her Richard.

"Richard Moreau, have you finished your statement?"

It was Edmund Burke. Once a teacher. Once his teacher. And hers. Now he was the kindly face they put on exile. An expression of embarrassed pity on his face but a stern posture. Maybe it helped them sleep at night.

"Yes. Yes Mr. Burke, I'm quite done."

He'd not give them the show they wanted. He wouldn't be carried out of here kicking and screaming. Not screaming at them, not for himself, not for her. He'd not make it any easier for Mr. Burke either. Sending him out into the wastes to burn, to starve, to die, alone.

"Richard Moreau," Mr. Burke intoned in his familiar voice, "It is the judgement of those gathered here, a panel of your fellow Vault 8 Citizens, that although you were born and raised here to love and respect your fellow man and to be loved and respect in turn, you have turned from these ways. You have been found Guilty of the crime of Murder and you have left your fellow Vault 8 Citizens with no choice but to exile you. It is with a heavy heart that..."

Mr. Burke went on a bit longer about the heavy burden of such a choice. About the gravity that their considerations had had and about how though he was to be hereby exiled they would not just throw him to the wastes. He would be provided survival materials. So much of this and this much of that. Whatever they hadn't run out of after outfitting the previous exiles. He wasn't the first. He has heard it before. From the other side of the room. This speech, it wasn't for him. It had never been for the Exile. It was for the others. So they could tell themselves they'd done all they could. He kind of hated them for that. All the fake feelings.

The new stuff came next. The stuff you only saw once. Unless you were Burke and his little team. He'd seen them escort or drag, sometimes even carry, Exiles through that big metal door before but this time it was him and before he even really appreciated that he should remember the moment it was over and he was through. The Blue and Yellow of Vault 8 left behind forever.

He'd never admit it but he missed it immediately. The stupid gleaming happy clean colors he'd grown so sick of. Now it was a long utilitarian hallway stripped of all the niceties. Shades of grey and black. Occasional highlights of yellow but not the Vault happy showy yellow. Purposeful yellow. Tying together this or that bundle of wires at regular intervals. Then he was in front and a second later he was through that big Vault Door he had only seen before in paintings and educational videos.

He'd never admit it but here he pushed back against the escort momentarily. Suddenly more aware that yes this was really really actually happening. It was the dirt walls on the other side that did it. Dirt walls with big concrete beams spaced at regular intervals. He'd expected a shove but instead they just stopped for a moment like it was a normal part of the process. Maybe it was.

"It's alright son," old Mr. Burke who had grown a stomach that pushes his Vault Suit out in a most undignified way said, "Gather yourself up."

He'd never admit it, but he began, "Can. Can we."

"No son. I'm sorry. I'm real sorry. I am. But no, we can't."

"I could.."

"You take a moment now. We can't be too long. They'll send more after us if we take too long and then it'll all go too fast. I hate it when it goes like that. You take that moment but don't take too long now."

He kind of hated him for that. The real feelings. He stood there for a moment waiting for a last second reprieve that never came.

"We need to get a move on now."

A bit further and there was a seam of light shining through a door at the end of the tunnel. A door set between a long length of heavily reinforced steel beams and concrete. With an armed guard on either side. Both holding guns a lot bigger than the pistol Mr. Burke's helpers had discretely on their waists. These weren't discrete and they weren't the old long guns or the six shooters from those old Cooper Howard films. They weren't ray guns from Captain Cosmos . They weren't even those blocky jumping things from Sgt. Granite. He didn't know what to call them but he knew what they were for and the faces on the men holding them told him they knew how to use them.

This was it then. This was the door. Heavy and reinforced. He stood before it as Mr. Burke explained again all of what was in the duffel bag he was being presented. He wasn't really listening. But he did hear one thing. One thing that sounded like maybe it wasn't the regular rigmarole.

"Listen now Richard. We're only a few years from opening up proper. We were supposed to a couple years back but, well, you know how things can be in a Vault. You be careful out there. Find shelter. Try and make friends. You'll never be allowed back in the Vault, but might be we could let you sleep in the little trading hub we want to build. We got a plan Richard and a doohickey. Might be real nice. Come on back in a few years if you can."

Burke gave a nod of the head to the two armed men and each pushed a button resulting in a blast of air and a depressurizing sound as the door unlocked and slowly ratcheted open.

"This is it now Richard. Get that bag comfortable on your shoulders. Take a deep breath. I'm afraid you won't be coming back through that door son but that doesn't mean you can't make something of yourself."

With halting steps he crossed the threshold. Burke offering last pieces of advice from behind him as the door began ratcheting closed once again.

"Try to stay out of the wind. Head South. Boil your water. Make something of yourself son."

And then a faint and weak goodbye.

Richard Moreau began walking, following the old man's advice though he would never acknowledge it. From disaster to massacre to graveyard he traveled, and then again, and then again, from one fresh hell into another. Not making "friends" so much as temporary travel companions. Often losing them when they betrayed him, or he betrayed them, or they were attacked by raiders, or wild animals, or traps set up by some clever but cowardly scavengers.

In just that manner Richard Moreau traveled into the wasteland never to be seen again, and in just that manner a new man was born. A learned wasteland doctor. Doc Grey, Doctor Richard Grey.

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

Following a missed posting window and a very non-specific complaint we are currently stalled out for an indeterminate time. Waiting for the Bolt team to decide if they still want to do this.

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

Hexxin an' a Texxin, Dangerrutito Fontainuxic's Goggs were flooding his brain and unconscious and semiconscious and Id and Ego and Super Ego and (given his suit's unique method of interface) very possibly his butthole with multitudinous information. Like so much information. Probably too much really, but that was the benefit of having both all the magic and all the tech.

This could be, and indeed was, all contemplated collaborated and corroborated in an instant. Absolute minimal bureaucracy in his brain.
Future Magic Russian type shit. Super helpful. Only way to get access to this level of magic and tech and also the process by which neoborhilliumium can be manticulated not once, not twice, but indeed thrice into the form of a Q-Bramble Blade, cheekily referred to by those in the know as a Q-BramBlade. It was a deep cut. One lost on you if you weren't in the know about Russian Magic Future type shit. Your loss. It's an oldie but a goodie. A Magic Future Oldie but a goodie.

Only way to have access to a fucken Zord too. Some real Saban type shit, but not like the Saban type shit from when they hit it big and had to just keep making shows and gradually watered their shit down and got all redundant and lame and shit. Like the early Saban type shit when they were just dubbing over some crazy ass weird ass foreign show and replacing all the weird talk with American type shit. That type Saban shit. Speaking of.

Quantemporaneously, and with much alacrity too, Dangerrutitio references his VocoRecordoerings and the data compiled by his Hexx-Texx Goggos. Now, granted, for some weebs Naruto running around with bandages on their feet and hands and little headbands and shit, pretending to be a Street Shark or some shit, this might take ages. If they could even read Future Russian Magic type guy man script. Which was doubtful. Putting it all together, figuring out where it intersects and what that means. But with the help of both magic and technology and bluntness Dangerrutito is able to permeate the membrane of it all and determine the most bestest position for a Z.O.R.D., that is a Zord Orbital Rapid Deployment, and drop it precisely where he wanted it.

Extrapolating, or maybe interpolating, some word like that. Maybe both them words. Extrainterpolating. Some word meaning like inside thinking and combining of factors into one clear simple answer. Whichever word that means basically that, but also has the most letters and syllables and preferably the most complicated pronunciation. That was what the Hexx-Texx Goggs were doing. VocoRecordoer was helping out too. Picking up even the slightest of sound waves. Words sure, but also often just the slight reverberations of foot-steps, rustling leaves, cracking ice. Between the two a great many things that a simple mortal might miss were picked up and catalogued and their ramifications considered. Handy shit. Like some sort of fusion between magic and technology, which is what Dangerrutito was. So that was fitting.

Where to drop the Zord and what to do. A simple question but one with voluminous possible answers and untold potential ramifications. It may turn the tide of the battle. It may accidentally land on Dangerrutito and bring him to a rather ignoble end. If he were doing it on pen and paper he might forget to carry the zero or get confused about precisely how Long Division worked or he might confuse Calculus and Trigonometry and end up manifesting Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu inside this lame ass planet, likely resulting in one manner of horrific disaster or another. Maybe even a dreaded Muonnic Conclipse. There was so much to consider.

Dangerrutito's partners for one. That is those dudes over there and there and there and also over there. They were the ones he was not supposed to kill. At least not until after these other randos were giblets. His orders hadn't said anything about not killing his partners after these pests were paste. Or maybe they had. He hadn't read them.

The opponents and their locations was another thing. Some of them were tricksy little buggers. Or at least tried to be. Their methods may well be effective on this world, with this level of magic and apparent pronounced derth of technology. Somewhat akin to the card sharks of Kyivistanoslov's slums. Playing three card monty or that Find The Ball in the Cup game. Parlor tricks. Slight of hand. Spiritually sourced though they may well be they were mere contrivances. Attempts to mask one's presence were admirable but Dangerrutito wasn't relying on his 20/20 vision to detect them.

That was where the aforementioned Hexx-Texx Goggolos came in. They were able to scan through a variety of different viewmodals searching out disturbances and fluctuations. One might have a normal reading and thus be detected, or no reading and thus be detected, or an altered reading and thus be detected, but there was little hope of just remaining perfectly unseen. Granted one might perhaps maybe figure out a way to evade detection of one mode or another. Specialization was a miraculous thing, but with the Goggles flicking from one mode to another continuously it was likely a losing battle. Particularly for a world so wrapped up in Chi or Qi or Ki. Same shit.

Upon tagging any target or object/entity of interest the systems would track that target and, with that target now solidified conceptually, take a particular interest in obtaining that target in another targeting system. Thusly using each data set to build upon one another and, potentially, not just identify a target in a targeting system they had previously been able to elude or confuse, but in doing so improve the capacity of that system. It was pretty fucking neat all in all.

It allowed Dangerrutito to take note of a random bandaged figure running out, seemingly thinking it was completely hidden despite quite simply not being hidden. It was quick, Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic would give it that, but running across open ground to the lake was not a particularly stealthy move. Not hard to ping that. Didn't even need some umpteen vision modes to latch on to some guy Naruto running through an open field, and once the target was identified, well, it wasn't likely to be lost. Less likely with each passing second. Even when Naruto Runner sent out a few illusory clones, like a small child scattering coins in the hopes that the coins would confuse their parents and save them from a time out, the targeting remained. Sure, there were additional potential targets now, but that wasn't going to undo the acquisition of the original targeting. Naruto Runner wasn't obfuscating any thing any more than the smattering of local flora and fauna were. The attacks he once thought decisively deadly would flail harmlessly as the surprise aspect of his surprise attack was but an illusion, his delusion.

They, the Hexx-Texx Goggs that is, also allowed Dangerrutito to spy something he enjoyed looking at much more than Naruto Runner over there. Dangerrutito had made out a strange silhouette. A most seductive silhouette, which was a strange thing for a silhouette to be but fuck it a man likes what a man likes. A woman's silhouette. Let's get that out of the way right now. It had like...womanly aspects. For a shadow. Or a silhouette. Like boobs. And long hair. And the proper like hip to waist ratio and smaller shoulders. All that type stuff. That was all pretty cool stuff. Dangerrutito liked that kind of stuff. He liked it a lot. A lot more than dude shadow or silhouette type stuff. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

A silhouette, black edged with blue yet somehow a fire in the eyes. Now that didn't come up on the sensors. Not even the Muonn gauge. Dangerrutito could just tell that was there because of like things. Metaphorical type things. The way that they are. Shit like that. Anyway back to the silhouette, quite a karada on that one. Probably. Again, the figure was black edged with a blue silhouette so it was hard to tell but dollars to donuts probably a hard karada. Probably. This one didn't Naruto run, for which Dangerrutito was eternally grateful because that was just silly. This one danced. Dangerrutito did not know the dances but he knew he liked them. She brought her own dancing partners too, like the Naruto Runner dude, though these too were not particularly hard to discern between. As she danced his Goggos had plenty of time to scan her in several viewmodals and iterate again and again until the image developed, creating a rather profound separation between the actual figure and her backup dancers.

These would be the focus of his attacks. At least for now, and they would receive the attention they were due.

The Naruto Runner, Inabikari Muigetsu Totsuka, also known as Komaeda “Azashiro” Seishi, also also known as Keiji Maeda. Dangerrutito didn't know the Naruto Runner's name or that he had been named after a samurai from the long distant past and a corny ass anime character from the less long but still pretty long distant past, but he'd probably get a giggle out of it if he had.

The Dancing Silhouette, Akane Ryuusei, also known as Hard Karada (at least to Dangerrutito). Dangerrutito didn't know that was her name either. He'd have to ask later. Also for her number. And if she liked dogs or not. God he hoped she did.

And maybe that other guy too. Maybe he should focus on that dude because like what the fuck was up with him?

Some Shiny Dude, Yuske Tenyu “X-Star of Vehemente,” Dangerrutito didn't know that was his name either. Or what a X-Star was.

Some Shiny Dude had been hard to see. A distance off and in an elevated position, showing up much like The Dancing Silhouette, aka Hard Karada, initially Dangerrutito had scarcely been able to see him. Had only picked him up as his Goggles started detecting another presence and trying to zero in on it, but now his Goggos had gotten a bead on him and focused in, running through viewmodals, until he could appreciate the shiny crimson metally armor type shit the dude was wearing. Pretty legit. He'd just been standing there for like the longest time. Surveying shit like some kind of surveyor. Dude liked to watch. That was alright. Time to put on a show.

That was exactly what he did. Put on a show. But then also drop a Z.O.R.D. precisely where he wanted it. Just along the edge of the lake so the resultant wave would wash right over where The Naruto Runner was trying his best to be a sneaky snake.

Just as it had been for his arrival, the vantablack membrane of spacetime was penetrated, this time at high speed. Spacetime was gonna be sore in the morning. It was gonna be vantablack and blue. Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu had been launched by the Fontainiuxiciccix 4 at ludicrous speed and point blank into a really quite small spacetime rip, allowing it to maintain much of it's momentum and just really tearing the shit out of that poor spacetime continuum. It might have to take a break. It probably couldn't continuum.

Double entendres and dumbshittery aside, the violation of spacetime and massive amount of energy pumping into the world immediately began to wreak havoc on the biome. Small happy little birds singing small happy little bird songs and carrying twigs and their young and candies and cards and shit for their spouses died by the hundreds. Incinerated or bisected or just exploded by the sudden change in air pressure. Hundreds more immediately dropping dead from the sheer quantity of plasmatic radioactive waste that Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu was venting from his rearward waste vent, located on his ass. Never knowing what cruel fate awaited them, or that they would never see their little bird wives and babies and friends and shit again. Never getting an opportunity to tell them they loved them and cherished their memories together and nice type shit like that. Certainly any who survived were traumatized for life. Probably scarred too. PETA, if it existed on this planet, was gonna be pissed. Ozone Layer would probably never recover. This little temple area was basically Australia now but without the hot blondes with cool accents.

At the speed it was travelling Dangerrutito hardly had time to turn toward The Dancing Silhouette before Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu blasted into the surface just on the edge of the lake. Luckily he did, have time that is. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to enjoy one of those cool guy moments. He bet he looked just cool as shit.

A giant ZORD, Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu, landing cacophonously, instantaneously sublimating a large quantity of the lakes water, melting the rest, splashing a large quantity of the melted water out, and creating a huge wave originating opposite the temple and heading toward it. Toward The Naruto Runner and the temple beyond him. That was to say nothing of what it did to the Earth there. Sublimating a good chunk of that too. Taking solid earth and advancing it straight past smaller solids or liquids and straight into gas. Not even a thick gas. Not a fog or even really a mist. It was as though it had just never been there.

Think of all the little squirrels and raccoons and shit. Or the whatever alien type fauna that lived on this weird ass world. The cute ones. All suddenly rendered homeless. And probably dead. Yeah mostly dead. If you can sublimate earthen rock you can sublimate a cute little family of four squirrels sitting around their little squirrel dinner table discussing the latest goings on in squirrel culture. But now they were all dead. And what's more, since Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu was still venting radioactive plasmatic waste out his ass mounted waste distributor vent so they probably wouldn't be able to return any time soon. Just annihilating the ecosystem like it wasn't anything that mattered. Because well it kinda didn't. It was a fucking travesty. A tragedy. A war crime. Abhorrent. The act had been done and now, like a silent fart in a small room, though the rest of the planet may not immediately notice it in time its spread was inevitable and undeniable. Resistance is futile. War, War Never Changes. Nanu nanu. Etc. It was fucked up. But man did it ever look cool. All behind him too, like he was too cool to watch it. Fuck that looks cool.

"Fuck that probably looks cool," Dangerrutitio Fontainuxic thought as he unholstered his blaster, blew the gunsmoke (which wasn't there since he hadn't fired yet and also because blasters shot blast bolts and therefore did not produce gunsmoke) from it's barrel, and began a dance of his own. There wasn't much to it. It wasn't really a dance. He just kinda shrugged his shoulders a little, did a hip thrust and charged up a blast.

The Naruto Runner would have to contend with the massive wave heading his way, if he hadn't been killed by the initial impact. Or boiled by the immediate change in temperature. Or drowned. Or just had a heart attack when he realized he wasn't hidden. Anyway he had teammates. Like the one guy, or that other guy, or the guy with the thing, or uh. That one other guy that was also there. Dangerrutito's blaster blast was charging up for The Dancing Silhouette.

Surely that big bada boom had gotten her attention, but if it hadn't this would. Probably maybe. The blaster was one of his Rangery type tech deal things. It didn't have a long name and history, and none of his illegitimate children's eternal souls were trapped inside of it, or at least not that he knew of, but it was pretty nifty just the same. A Chekhov Model 7 Master Blaster. A real work of art.

The dance stopped!

The Dancing Silhouette, Akane Ryuusei, aka Hard Karada, aka The Future Mrs. Fontainuixic, and her backup dancers sped off to the side toward where that one duder with the guns and the bitchin' ass car was. Not just that. She was fast. She was really fast. He could track her, but only barely, the indicator for her position moving across his viewscreen fast enough that he had to turn his head and pivot to keep her lined up, couldn't even keep her in his sights. He was no marksman.

Bouncing from tree to tree, Dangerrutito knew just well enough to not try and shoot her on one side of the other, to not try to outshoot his read out but to control his breathing, steady his hand, and focus on the center point, the middle point her tracking indicator kept jumping across. If he had more time he might be able to charge the blast more. To scour her out straight away. Score one for the good guys. Or at least his team. For now. But her hand had begun to crackle with energy and he didn't need to check his read out to know that that was no good.

Focusing in, breathing slow, and pulling the trigger methodically he sent blaster bolts down range to that center point as her indicator bobbed across that point over and over. It wouldn't be enough to fry her. He'd been trying to charge up a big ass blast but she had thrown him off with that little mad dash she'd done. She would survive an uncharged blast bolt, all but certainly. This first blast would be charged up a little but not enough to kill. Probably. He hoped she didn't get hit with the first one anyway. That wouldn't be a good icebreaker. He'd have to make it up to her later either way. Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic wondered what kind of chocolate a Dancing Silhouette would like. Probably caramel. Maybe carmel.

What shows/movies are you watching?

Watched the first season of Fallout, fun show but butchered the lore.

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

The message had come through his DynaTech v17 Pager. A simple message, as it had to be. It was just a fancy alternate future pager. He was to bisect the tempoverse he had been bumming about in at the ZK Axis at 2763 hours precisely and then recursively corpusclate counterspacewise until he reached well...here. And so here he was. Somewhere. Set to kill a few weirdos and then probably get a really cool reward. That probably should have been hashed out with whoever sent him that message, but he had just jumped at the chance to womp some randoms. Ah well. Next time.

The vantablack semipermeable membrane of spacetime folded into itself behind him, once he had sufficiently cleared the event horizon. Without delay Dangerrutito Fontainuixic got his Hexx Texx-Goggs both Hexxing and Texxing. Picking up life forms to the South and South West. Weebs it would seem. It was always weebs.

"Breaker Breaker One Niner I got like four bogies. All weebs. I repeat all weebs. Come in you guys. My call sign is Omnissiah. Over and out."

It was a reference to a guy from Warhammer. Which is a thing for nerds. But not weeb nerds, normal nerds, which are marginally less nerdy. But it was kind of a fitting reference. Omnissiah. That dude was like a magic technology dude. The rest of the squad would be able to hear his equally informative and nonsensical ramblings thanks to a particularly potent combination of "magic" and Future Russian technology. Called it a Thaumic VocoRecordoer, patent pending. The neat thing is worked both ways. Again magictech. Very technical, very magical.

Situation at hand. Temple thing. Lake dealie. Paths. Trees. Weebish Target rich environment He had seen this before. It was like a Dungeons and Dragons encounter. But with robots and weebs. Therefore it was superior to Dungeons and Dragons. He liked it.

A dumbshit grin spread fully across his dumbshit face in a split second. This was going to be fun.

Hexx-Texx Goggs self modulating their Muon Capacity and scanning through several different viewmodals to best optometrize the battlefields. Thaumic VocoRecordoer thaumically vocorecordoering for them all. Aromatic Polyamide Weave suit weaving all his polyamides very aromatically. Also it was hugging his every curve and crevice like a jilted lover finally reunited with her Romeo but for one night only and then never again until the next time her Romeo gets stood up.

In addition to that, the almost pornographic tightness of the suit I mean, it was adapting to Dangerrutito's environment to help him remain undetected. Not via some sort of Adaptive Camouflage system, although it probably maybe could do that too, but because it was tied in through some mysterious means (quite possibly Dangerrutito's ass) to his mind. Responding to his desire to be just stealthy as fuck. All kinds of sneaky.

Likewise the soul of his banished bastard boy B-Rad responded to the hum of blood and adrenaline through Dangerrutito's body. It couldn't respond much, being just a soul and a soul trapped in a sword at that, but that sword, Trilobieskni by name. Yes, yes that Trilobieskni, the very same. The Blade of Legend. The Sword of Myth. The Katana of Dread. The Loosener of Shackles. The Remover of Bras. The Sabre of the Downtrodden. The Zweihander of the Einhanded. Fucking Cool Sword Bro. That sword. It hummed, metaphorically, very much eager to be let loose upon a weeb or two. Also to get a body again instead of being trapped in a sword.

In summation, as Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic methodically moved through the brush and whispered his sightings to the others, through his Thaumic VocoRecordoer, he was ready. Very ready. To Rumble.

So ready was he, in fact, that he decided he ought to provide his battle brothers, or whatever, with a rousing vocal performance. Whispered of course, Thaumically, via his VocoRecordoer, into each of their brains or ears or some shit. Dangerrutito wasn't super clear on the details of magitech. What he was clear on was the general tune of "Where Did Our Love Go" by The Supremes. Released in 1964. Diana Ross and the Funk Brothers. Dangerrutito was pretty sure Smokey Robinson produced.

A very fitting soundtrack for the lovefest that was about to kick off.

Where Did Our Love Go by The Supremes

Baby, baby
Where did our love go?
Oh, don't you leave me
Don't you leave me no more
I've got this burning, yearnin', yearnin' feeling inside me
Oh, deep inside me and it hurts so bad
You came into my life so tenderly
With a burning love that stings like a bee
And now that I've surrendered so helplessly
You know I believe you wanna leave me
Oh, baby, baby
Where did our love go?
Oh, don't you leave me
Don't you leave me no more
Oh, baby, baby
Where did our love go?
Oh, don't you leave me
Don't you leave me no more
You came into my life so tenderly
With a burning love that stings like a bee
And now that I've surrendered so helplessly
You know I believe that you wanna leave me
Oh, baby, baby
Where did our love go?
Oh, baby, baby
Don't you leave me no more
I've got this burning, burning, yearnin' feeling inside me
Ooh, deep inside me and it hurts so bad
Baby, baby, baby
Where did our love go?
Don't you leave me
Don't you leave me no more
And now that I've surrendered so helplessly
You know I believe you wanna leave me
Oh, baby, baby
Where did our love go?
Where did our love go?
Where? Where? Where?
Now that I've surrendered oh, so helplessly
You know I believe that you wanna leave me
Oh, baby
Where did our love go?
Where did our love go?