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1 mo ago
but can they beat goku
1 mo ago
Making me choose between bugs vs frogs is actually messed up. I think Acorn Weevils might clutch it for bugs though.
2 likes
2 mos ago
Trying to get my hands on some unregistered spellbooks for those sweet pre-Mageblight spells. If anyone has one with 'Gerber's Ball of 20 Spiders' hmu.
2 likes
3 mos ago
deeply upset that I am now imagining Peter Griffin's hypothetical moveset
4 likes
5 mos ago
Spiders are cool as hell, it isn't their fault our brains are wired to be alarmed by many-legged things skittering
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Mentions: @Ambra @Severance





Simon had a habit of getting into exceptionally unfortunate situations, it was part of his darn life at this point. Just something he had to accept, and overcome. Some folk had weird looking noses, some folk were born without noses, and Simon's nose got stuck into trouble against his will. He frowned internally. That metaphor weren't so good. But that wasn't the point. The point was, while Simon could usually accept that it was just in his cards to have awful luck, this time around things were different. Simon was not the type of guy to get angry, no sir. Usually he just got sad. But he was starting to feel his fear mix with irritation at how absolutely awful this fellow's manners were.

Being angered that Simon was somewhat short with him earlier was one thing, but the fact that this no good varmint was dead set on making it into as big a deal as possible had Simon all riled up. He was treating him like a dang criminal just for leaving partway through a conversation! It wasn't right, and it was that type of behavior that really got under Simon's skin. Being pushed around and bullied, he was used to. But being treated like a villain was a bridge too far.

With that said, it wasn't as if Simon planned on actually doing anything about it. Getting frustrated was one thing, but retaliation just wasn't in his nature. And it seemed as though Jules had managed to defuse the situation somehow. What, seconds ago, seemed like the start to a gunfight, had now turned into the rude fellow declaring that he had no intention of befriending Simon. That was fine, he could certainly live without having someone this actively aggressive as a friend.

And then he turned his attention back to Simon, and began to speak. Simon could feel his forehead crease and his brow furrow. Was there some sort of miscommunication between them? Simon had been talking about his satchel coming open, but this fellow was making it about ghosts. Which, one, was totally off topic, and two, unfortunately confirmed Simon's suspicion that there were more haunted people than just him. The rest of the scary fellow's jeering was lost in the haze of Simon's own mind as he tried to work out how they had gone from open bags to scary ghosts.

Simon was drawn out of his thoughts by a bottle flying by him, and shattering across the scary fellow's back. Ah, shoot. That was bad. Simon had better say something quick. "Alright now, before you start gettin' mad pardner, please look 'round so you can discern that it clearly was not us who tossed that at ya- PERFORM THIS WAY!" Simon was forced to interrupt his own sentence when the scary fellow whirled around, and began to manifest a ghost.

His own ghost popped into existence right in front of him, and while he couldn't actually use it until performing several tasks, he could still manifest it as a shield. "Wha-" The ghost had less than a second to speak before the scary fellow's ghostly arm slammed right into its' metallic face. Perform This Way's own durability helped considerably cushion the blow. But haunted and ghost weren't actually prepared for the blow, meaning they didn't have time to ground themselves. The force of Perform This Way being pushed back transferred to Simon. If that weren't enough, Perform This Way was smacked right into him. Sending both of them flying out of the bar, and straight towards Jules. "YOU BOAR BRISTLED GOON! YOU SUMMONED ME RIGHT INTO A PUNCH!" Perform This Way shrieked, Simon was a bit too dazed to respond snappily, but at least he hadn't taken the full force of the blow.



Mentions: @Ambra @Severance





Simon was having a really bad day. He was really feeling like crying in a bath right now, but unfortunately for him, that would involve escaping this situation. Which was..challenging. Fleeing from a bar full of ruffians was easy, Simon had done it lots of times. A lot more than anyone else, really. Perhaps, in hindsight, some of those bars were not ruffians just for talking loudly and laughing at slightly inappropriate jokes. But he was getting off topic even in his own darn thoughts. The problem was, one of the ruffians was not only familiar, but currently closing in on him.

The imposing fellow riding the imposing horse that had stressed Simon out during the first leg of the race. Still, Simon hadn't actually done anything to anger this imposing fellow. All he had done was inform him that his bag was loose, and ridden off. So surely there wasn't going to be an altercation- Then the imposing stranger started talking. If Simon weren't the type of person to hold himself to standards mentally and physically, he would have internally sworn.

Even in Simon's world composed entirely of paranoia, sad country songs, and cute animals, he wasn't able to predict the reasoning for this anger. While he was expecting him to be angry due to Simon placing first, that wasn't the reasoning at all. What Simon could gather was that this individual considered Simon's attempted good gesture to be rude, and that him riding off- while a race was underway -was even more rude. Simon certainly could have at least given a 'good bye' before riding off, but in his honest opinion, the retaliation from rude behavior to standoff in a saloon was a bit excessive. Granted, Simon was the type of man to think any retaliation from any party (including himself) was excessive.

Still, this fellow was certainly itching for a fight, and since running away would likely only delay the problem until the next leg of the race, it was time for option two. Simon's hand ghosts down to his holster, a practiced movement that was so fluid it was actually incredibly noteworthy. It was the only thing Simon did that wasn't tense and nervous, after all.

But as a would-be pacifist if he wasn't so itchy with his trigger finger, Simon decided that words should probably be traded before he unloaded on someone who may have just had one of those faces that made you nervous. "N-now, hold on there feller. There has been a considerable misunderstandin' between us." Simon waves the hand that wasn't resting on his six shooter in a placating manner. "Y'see it was not my intention to offend. I only wanted ta inform you that yer bag was comin' undone."

Simon suddenly felt way too hot in the face, and cold everywhere else. A combination of embarrassment and anxiety welling up as he spoke. He could feel the sweat on his forehead. "An' as fer the issue of me moseyin' on without another word, I wasn't tryin' ta slight you in any way, no sir. I merely overhead a somewhat aggressive comment from you. An' it is a rule of mine to avoid aggression and violence whenever I can."

Simon's voice cracked several times as he explained, and he wasn't even close to successful at hiding how terrified he was. But he believed he managed to lay it all out there as well as he could have. Surely there would be no misunderstandings, right? Well, the atmosphere was still feeling real tense, so maybe he wasn't gonna be so lucky. Just then, the woman who introduced herself as Jules interrupted in an attempt to diffuse the situation, and slung her arms around both parties of the conflict. Simon could practically feel the tension rising as she did this. He was gonna throw up from stress, he could feel it. It was totally going to happen. He definitely was not overreacting.

He was definitely overreacting, but it was still scary.


Mentions: @Ambra





Simon's apology seemed to only invigorate the crowd more. Apparently, much to Simon's chagrin, apologizing for getting first place during the first leg of the race actually created more questions than it answered. Which was incredibly unfortunate, as Simon could not focus on one particular question. His head was practically spinning, the attention was overwhelming and totally terrifying, despite it not actually being that large of a crowd. His gaze ghosts over the people surrounding him. No exits. He couldn't escape unless he started shoving, meaning Simon couldn't go back to his trusted tactic of fleeing. He did have one more tactic to avoid scary situations though.

Simon's hand seemed to ghost down his side, towards his holster. The movement was subtle, and smooth, which was why the crowd wasn't freaking out. They just hadn't noticed. Simon frowns just before grabbing at his six shooter. He didn't plan on shooting any of them, of course. His idea was to fire some warning shots into the air, and then make a break for it. But Simon realized that this was actually considerably more rude than asking them to move aside, and also might get him in a lot of trouble.

Deciding he really didn't want to upset anyone, Simon's hand moves away from the holster.

Which meant he had to figure out a new way of fleeing the scene. Running and shooting weren't options, he was pretty much out of ideas. Just then, someone touched his arm. Simon let out an incredibly unbecoming yelp, similar to what one might hear if they accidentally stepped on a dog's tail. He also whirled around with wide, scared eyes. Simon managed to calm down slightly when he realized it was the intimidating woman who chased away the thugs after Simon shot one. She seemed to be good people, helping a stranger like the Badger Man out like that. Scary, but good.

His brow furrowed as he heard her out. A drink? Simon didn't tend to partake, but..hmm. He could probably use a nice refreshing glass of orange juice. Plus, heading somewhere with someone as intimidating as her would probably prevent the crowd from following him. W-Well, I s'pose I've got time fer a drink." Any attempt at playing it cool was lost when he immediately stuttered. Also, his voice cracked near the end of the word drink.

"Sorry fellers, I've got things ta do." Simon moves forward, hoping the crowd would part. To his surprise, they actually did. He assumed it was because he had an excuse to leave. In actuality, it was just because Simon was physically imposing despite being an absolute wimp. "I've just got ta' find a place fer Cecilia to rest at first." Simon informs the intimidating woman as he moves out of the crowd, which soon disperses as he leaves.

It wasn't too hard to find a nice place to tie Cecilia's reigns to. The small area was clearly renovated to accommodate the race. So after ensuring Cecilia was secured, fed, and watered, Simon bumped his head against his horse's. "Ah'll be back in a jiffy, don't ya worry." He said quietly. Though, the truth was, Cecilia was absolutely fine on her own. It was Simon who was being reassured. Cecilia had become his emotional support horse.

Simon proceeds to head back to the scary woman, and then to the bar, fidgeting slightly as the intimidating woman walked beside him. He was supposed to make small talk, right? But what could they talk about? All Simon had done that was noteworthy was getting first place via fear alone. That wasn't impressive, and even if it was, it wasn't much to go on. "The name's Simon, by the by." He says quietly, realizing that introducing himself would probably be polite.

Before he could continue talking, he came upon the bar, and immediately froze up. Simon hovered just outside the doorway. Clearly visible to those inside the bar, but too nervous to actually enter it. The reason being, someone had kicked the door straight off its' hinges. Likely someone angry and scary, given the fact that normal folk didn't tend to boot doors down for no reason.


Mentions: N/A





Simon had been so distracted by the prospect of moving towards the goal as fast as he could, that he didn't even realize no one was in front of him by the time he actually made it through. The burst of speed, combined with his own panic that hadn't yet worn off, had somewhat disoriented him. It wasn't until he heard the Announcer declare him the winner that Simon realized he even finished. Thankfully for the mustached jockey, his horse was smarter than he was, and had stopped herself before they could plow into something and hurt themselves.

Simon blinked once, then twice. His mouth felt horribly dry. He had won the first portion? Really? Simon's goal was to place among the top ten, anything more seemed like wishful thinking. The only reason he was confident enough to enter in the first place was because he believed his patience would allow him to outlast most of the other jockeys. But somehow, through panic and fear alone, Simon had blown by the other, far more talented jockeys.

He hoped the weren't mad. Simon would hate to have painted a target on his back this early in the race. But knowing his luck, he immediately began to suspect that now several people would attempt to take him down to ensure he didn't place high in the next leg of the race. Simon suddenly felt a bit queasy. Wasn't winning meant to feel good? It had, for a minute, but now it had given way to fear. Lots of it. So much so, that Simon didn't even notice the cheering as he dismounted from Cecilia, and took hold of her reigns. He felt both sweaty and cold, and began to look at the other racers nervously. As if suspecting one of them would pull a gun on him should he lower his guard.

Simon shakes his head. Even for him, this paranoia was excessive. He really had to get himself together here. "Y'did good, girl. Better than yer rider, in fact." Simon says under his breath, placing his hand on Cecilia's head. She pressed against it, and looked up at him with those glassy and empty eyes that were kind of terrifying, and hid how intelligent of a creature Cecilia really was. Right. He could have himself a first place pity party later. First Simon needed to get Cecilia some food, water, and rest.

He begins to lead her away from the crowd in search of all three of those things. Only to be stopped abruptly by a group of men and women who had watched the race. They swarmed him, some shouting praise, some just trying to get attention, and some trying to propose business deals. It was all very overwhelming for Simon. "Uh- I- Well, y'- Hold on now-" Simon hadn't stuttered in years, and it was embarrassing for it to start back up again now, but he couldn't help it with all of the information overload. One of them, who was louder and thus scarier than the others, managed to be heard over the noise. "Mister Garfunkel! How do you feel after winning the first leg of the race?" Simon winced. "Uh, well, I'm sorry?"


Mentions: @Severance





The immediate shift in mood that the person Simon foolishly confronted about his bag was like whiplash, while he pulled up, he seemed friendly despite his imposing figure, but when he actually made it next to him, that mood had shifted into anger. Scary face, scary horse, and bad mood were three red flags. Simon immediately regretted talking to this fellow. He should have known better than to take a risk when he had double 13 as his number. Maybe he could just ride away before this scary guy could respond-

It was at that moment that Simon saw this guy's rope seemingly fly right into his hand. Oh God, oh crap. This guy was haunted too. That was definitely haunted behavior. Ropes didn't fly into people's hands on their own. Unless it was really windy, and the person had their hands out. Or maybe if someone threw the rope into someone's hands. But neither thing was happening in this situation, which meant it was a ghost. Simon could feel himself going pale out of fear. An angry, haunted stranger whom Simon had approached while being saddled (literally) with the unluckiest possible number. He was dead, he was totally dead.

While Simon ran through possibilities in his head, and debating as to whether it was morally okay to shoot this guy as a preemptive strike, he completely failed to notice said guy try to lasso a piece of paper only to have the Badger Boy known as Donny Brando snatch it up before he could. All Simon noticed, or rather, heard, was the stranger reacting to Donny snatching the paper. He had declared, quite angrily, 'You're Dead.' Having completely ignored the context, Simon's blood ran cold.

Within an instant, Simon hands tightened on Cecilia's reigns. He lashes them, aggressive for his standards, but very gently for most jockey's standards. Just enough to let his partner know that he needed to move. Now. And move he did, Cecilia was, after all, strongest when it came for her stability and short-distance speed. Before Simon could hear JoJo actually respond to him, and realize that this stranger meant no ill will whatsoever, he was off in a burst of abrupt speed.

"OhgollyOhgollyOhgollyOhgolly.." Simon muttered frantically as he abruptly began gaining on the other racers. Even blazing by a few of them. He rapidly approached the slope, managing to keep his wits just long enough to pull back on the reigns. Cecilia began to slow, but with their momentum, they began speeding down the slope at a quick rate despite his attempts at slowing down. It was, fortunately for both rider and horse, not enough speed to lose control and eat it.

What was not fortunate, was the pile up at the bottom of the slope. Simon let out a very unbecoming shriek, and lurched off to the side in his saddle, tugging on the reigns in order to guide Cecilia off to the side. His horse stumbled as she tried to move despite the forwards and downwards momentum, and for a minute it seemed that both would join the other ten racers at the bottom of the hill. But thanks to Cecilia being relatively used to unpleasant terrain such as the sands in the Devil's Palm, they managed to avoid collapsing, and briefly maneuver off-track in order to avoid trampling or tripping on the less fortunate racers.



Mentions: @Severance





Focusing more on the riders than the course was costing Simon a bit of speed, but honestly he felt he was far better off for it. After all, it was better to have a slow start, than have the race cut short by another racer getting violent with him. He vaguely noticed the Badger Man speed up, seeming to hurry away from the duo riding double. Perhaps the clattering of the strange armor was irritating him? Simon could understand that. It was pretty odd, all things considered, seeing someone dressed up like that for a race. And he could only assume it was very loud, though Simon himself wasn't close enough to hear it himself.

By observing Donny, Simon ended up witnessing the piece of paper smack him right in the face. He frowned. Was someone littering on the race track? If that paper got under a horse's foot, it might make the poor thing lose traction and hurt itself. That just wouldn't do. So, trusting Cecilia to remain on track, Simon begins to search for the source of the paper. It took a little bit, but he managed to locate an incredibly imposing figure riding an equally imposing horse. What was noteworthy, was that the rider's satchel was unbuttoned, and opened wide. Simon noted what seemed to be several more papers were stuffed hastily into the bag, and were currently getting battered by the wind. That must've been the guy- or, well, maybe it wasn't. But it was the most likely guy Simon could spot.

It seemed that he had misjudged the imposing rider. He wasn't trying to sabotage other racers, he was merely having trouble with his bag. Simon leaned forward in his saddle, and Cecilia immediately began to speed up. Her skill at short distance sprinting meant Simon had little trouble closing the distance between himself and the imposing rider. But it took a bit longer for him to work up the courage to talk, which meant he was just sort of riding near him, and looking at him silently. It was incredibly awkward.

Finally, Simon spoke up, having decided that a good deed might give him enough good karma to balance out his bad luck. "Excuse me, Pardner!" He called out, his voice deep and rumbling, yet notably not intense in any sense of the word. "Ah don't mean ta distract you from the race or nothin', but I couldn't help but notice that your bag's come loose. Ah don't want you ta lose nothin' valuable. That'd be rotten luck ta' start the race off with somethin' goin' missing." He had to shout a bit due to the deafening sound of a great deal of horses galloping, but even when throwing his voice to ensure he was heard, Simon seemed overly polite and nervous.

Immediately after, Simon winced. What if this guy didn't appreciate his information. Maybe he knew his bag had opened up already, and was now irritated that Simon had drawn unnecessary attention to it. Ugh, maybe he should've just kept his mouth shut and his head down. Now he'd gone and drawn an imposing looking fellow's attention to himself.


Mentions: @Lord Orgasmo





Simon's strategy of not sweating it and keeping a steady pace was surprisingly effective. He wasn't entirely sure why almost every other racer was treating the race as if it were a short-distance sprinting contest, when it was in fact, an endurance run. Maybe they didn't really believe they could win and wanted to at least get a high ranking during the first portion of the first leg. Simon could understand that, better to be a winner briefly than a loser throughout the whole thing.

However, before Simon could continue down that downright depressing train of thought, he heard a voice. An unfortunately familiar, aggressive and metallic voice. "Psst! Earth to Dumb Mustache!" It was obvious who it belonged to no one else's voice sounded like a fork on a washboard. Oh no. Simon thought. "Oh no." Simon said. While he was distracted, his horrible evil ghost had manifested behind him. The scary specter called itself Perform This Way, Simon called it his awful ghost. "Oh no? Did you just lament my arrival? Yeah, okay, you're eating dirt next time you need me pal. But that ain't the point. Look over there!" Perform this way's stubby robotic hands grab onto Simon's head. It took all of Simon's willpower not to freak out and accidentally fall off Cecilia, who wouldn't have gotten even remotely spooked by Simon if he had freaked out.

His awful ghost forces him to look over at another rider. What made this one different, was the fact that she was riding double with what appeared to be an individual in a suit of armor. "Oh, wow. That's really amazing that those two trust each other enough to ride double like that. I think it's a bit cruel on the horse to wear such heavy armor, though." Simon noted, somehow missing the fact that the 'person' in the armor was phasing partially through the woman, and was obviously a ghost. His earnest statement was met with a long, irritated exhale by Perform This Way. "You know what? Never mind. Sure. They're riding double." The ghost proceeds to fade away in irritation, totally giving up on warning Simon about the potentially violent Stand that was riding somewhat nearby.

Simon frowned. That was strange. Usually his evil spirit only manifested to torment him or laugh when he stubbed his toe. Simon was fairly certain that it was just trying to get in his head and mess with him, so he promptly decides to forget about the whole affair, and continue focusing on the race. His current strategy was to ensure Cecilia didn't get too close to any of the aggressive looking riders. Simon suspected foul play was a given in this race. After all, having been a Policeman for years, Simon knew greed tended to lead to violence. This strategy was another safe bet, but it made Simon seem like a very bad jockey, as his horse was just sort of gradually zigzagging around while pressing forwards, instead of going straight forward.
I'm gonna bail out fellas. It's getting a bit too messy for my tastes.

With that in mind, have fun, safe sailing, and all that.


Mentions: N/A





Thankfully, Simon didn't need to interfere in what he had thought would be an incredibly violent horseback shootout. The moment he and Cecilia rounded the corner, they were met with a line-up of various other racers and their horses. He was able to note the victim of the Human Badger briefly, before she soon vanished into the crowd. Simon looked timidly at one of the organizers, who was currently giving him an intense glare for so noisily rounding the corner, and nearly disturbing the peace. Simon barely managed to choke out a timid response. "Ah, um, sorry. Very sorry." With that, he leads Cecilia to his place. 1313. How awful.

The person next to him seemed to agree, letting out a wince and briefly stating that he thought his number was unlucky, but that Simon's was far worse. Simon could barely hear him over the roaring in his ears. The race was about to begin, and he had wasted his time beforehand getting into fights, and trying to stop other fights. He didn't get to trade away his horribly unlucky number. Simon was practically doomed before the race even began..in his opinion, anyway. Anyone who wasn't a total defeatist wouldn't feel the same.

Regardless, the embarrassment and awkwardness of bailing out at the finish line was too much for Simon to handle. So he gripped Cecilia's reigns nervously, and began taking deep breaths to calm himself. The chanting of the crowd really didn't help much either. And as if sensing his distress, the voice of Perform This Way could be heard in his head, joining in the chant. Simon began to grit his teeth.

And before he knew it, the race was underway. The sound of fireworks bursting in the air signalling the start. Simon leaned forward in his saddle, which spurred Cecilia forwards. No lashing of the reigns was needed for his trusty police horse to get the message loud and clear. Somehow Simon managed to find himself at a cozy lead compared to most of the other racers, he was far from the front of the pack, but was at a pleasant middle ground. This was due to the simple fact that Cecilia wasn't phased by the explosions, and thus wasn't thrown off whatsoever. Simon found himself headed forward at a steady pace.

Granted, he wasn't gaining speed, but he wasn't losing it either. It was a reliable speed that promised safety above all else, which was what Simon prioritized right now. Cecilia was all about bursts of speed, so when the end of the first segment came around, that would be when he gave it his all. Until then, it was time to coast.







Simon's internal panicking was interrupted by that scary woman from earlier calling out to him. He barely registered the words 'good luck' before she had given him a rough pat on the back that caused him to yelp, and promptly rode off. He really hoped she hadn't heard the yelp...she definitely heard the yelp. Ugh. That was seriously embarrassing. First he chickens out of any type of conversation, then he yelps. She must've thought he was the biggest coward in the entire race. Not that she would be wrong for thinking that of Simon.

His downwards spiral of self-deprecation was broken when the Human Badger, whom he had heard earlier introduce himself as Donny, came trotting after her and- did he just scoop up horse crap? Simon's eyes widen, resembling saucers. Why in the world was he grabbing a fistful of crap!? Seconds after asking, Simon saw Donny approach the scary woman. Oh. Oh! Oh no.

"Watch out for-" His declaration was both too quiet, and too late, as the glob of horse dung was lobbed straight at the scary woman. Simon recoiled slightly as he was forced to watch the unfortunate collision. That was absolutely horrid, in both smell, and how cruel it was. Simon thinks back, recalling what she had said before patting him on the back. Was this Donny a competitor? Were all competitors eager to perform smear (poor word choice) tactics on each other!? This race was far too terrifying for Simon's tastes.

While he had a panic attack, the scary woman sped up. Eager to chase down the Shit Slinging Badger Boy. Her anger was palpable, was she about to do something she might regret? "Augh- I, Well- We probably ought to stop this from escalating.." With practiced speed, but the enthusiasm of a wet sock, Simon climbed atop Cecilia, and began to chase after the scary woman, who was chasing after Donny.

"Waaaait! Surely this doesn't need to escalate any further! You two might be at risk of being disqualified!" Simon called out desperately as the chase began in earnest, an unintentional prelude to the race itself.
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