After spending all day digging through a large pile of items, a koopa triumphantly holds a book over his head.
---
'Thank gods we didn't actually lose it. Now, to get this somewhere safe'. Mottled Petrel assigned the last platinum pedestal to be constructed in the emergency room, and once it was ready the book was to be placed on it and sealed away until he had a proper use for it.
The new barracks had not yet been dug out yet, but restructuring of the smaller squad was needed. A shadow gnome maceman requested residence so that he may soldier, but apparently to fit him into the squad a subordinate brute needed to be present. There were very few burly koopas in the fort, so Mottled Petrel pulled a particularly muscular miner for the position. The shadow gnome maceman looked very uncomfortable when he was told that he would need to wear a shell to be part of the squad.
"Sir?" Auze said, tentatively "I'm not sure what I did, but I think I made some magic".
"Well, what are we supposed to do with it?" Mottled Petrel asked, "I don't know, I think someone has to eat it to gain its power, but there's no way I'm going to do it. How about we put it in the library, so the scholars can study it?" "Sounds fine to me, they could probably write a book about it that could spread the secret too." (According to the mod page, if someone eats the essence they'll gain the magic, and then they can write a book about it so others can read it and learn the power. No idea how I'm going to be able to tell who has what power, though.).
'This one's going to be a doozy'.
'I regret even noticing it'.
'This place is going to be even more of a mad house than it already is if it's this easy for us to learn magic.'.
A breeding pair of sentrets and a ralts are caught out in the field, and not soon after a performance troop arrives because they have nothing better to do.
And just like the last one, its own members turn on it after they reach the fort's boundaries.
But still, the koopas found it surprisingly entertaining to see a bunch of amateur poets beat each other to death with their own books. Eventually, it became clear that some of the poets would end up actually being a problem, so the military was sent out. Ironically, one of the blood thirsty poets stumbled into a cage trap as they were beating one of their fellow poets to death. To make the scuffle even worse, a bob-omb poet wandered into the fray, and immediately blew up.
The explosion did little more than knock the innocent poets off balance long enough for the ones who were killing them to do debilitating damage. After maiming all of the poets who were too slow to run away, the military arriveed. Upon being killed, each of the crysanthropes dropped a mastercraft golden figurine. It was decided that the caged poet would be used as a gladiator for the eventual arena that would be dug out.
And while all this was happening, Madd decided he would take a lunch break.
After eating the essence, he just sat at the table for a few moments, shrugged, and walked away.
Next, one of the military koopas decided to take an essence of aether bolt with them as provisions for their training.
"This is probably the best bed I have ever seen, but what do you want us to do with it?" Mottled Petrel asked, as he admired the bed. Eris shrugged "I don't know, why don't we have a fight to the death for it?" Mottled Petrel didn't even address that comment "Just put it in the stockpile, we'll find something to do with it.".
Next, ZM5 decided that he was going to try eating some magic.
Again, he ate the essence and was left with no discernible difference.
After yet another fire was created by a perpetually burning article of clothing in the field, Mottled Petrel decided it was time to finally put some anti-fire systems in place. He slammed his poorly drawn blueprints onto his desk, as the miners watched "Alright, here's the plan. We're going to dig out an underground channel leading from the brook to a large underground reservoir. From that reservoir we will have a series of pumps that will be positioned so that they will pump water up to an above ground reservoir that we can use bridges to dump on any fires. This will take a long time to do, and I have not consulted any of the mechanics on how we will get the pumps to work, but it's on you guys to dig out the reservoir. Got it?". Nobody responded, but it was obvious from their expressions that they thought it was a huge waste of time. Nonetheless, they got to it.
(I just found it funny that this counted as a 'Lavish Meal').
Another performance troupe consisting entirely of poets arrived, and like the last few, some of its members begins killing everything in sight. "Ha, we might need to make a special place to store all of these dead poets. We could call it... The Deceased Poet's Organization!" Mottled Petrel exclaimed "... Nah, that sounds stupid, just throw them with the rest of the other degenerates.".
Seemingly fed up with the demon koopa oligarchy, it would appear that the koopas of Modded Hell decided to band together and vote in the
LEAST qualified candidate into the mayoral office to spite them.
Mottled Petrel, however, looked like he was going to have a heart attack. 'Pull yourself together man, you just have to fulfill his mandates and he won't drag down the fort too much. It'll be alrigh-' Mottled Petrel's feverish thoughts were interrupted by MoonyTheHuman getting onto his stage to give his victory speech... with a full size body pillow of a human girl under one of his arms "First of all, I'd like to thank my waifu for all of her support.
Sempai, say hi to the crowd...". The crowd collectively looked like they regretted their decision, while Mottled Petrel ran out of the room screaming.
During his frenzy, a group of migrants showed up. Those who weren't handed a pick were handed a sword and told to figure it out. One of the migrants was a demon koopa, and after a short discussion with MoonyTheHuman, he returned to Mottled Petrel with a very specific claim.
Mottled Petrel spit his drink out across his desk, after wiping his mouth he exclaimed "
Why the actual fuck would you want to be kind here of all places! Do you have any idea how low the life expectancy is of literally everything within a hundred Urists of here!? And it's not like we can actually accommodate you, we're basically hauling corpses and putting out fires on a daily basis!". But the new king would have none of it "Starting tomorrow this little hovel is going to be transformed into a proper koopa castle. With lava, fire, outstanding architecture, and most of all, a grand throne room in which I can defeat my enemies in glorious combat!". 'This guy isn't going to last two weeks here' Mottled Petrel thought "Alright, go, rally the workers, see if you can actually get them to do what you want them to. I've been trying for years, and all I've gotten is what you see around you.".
With a swish of the cape that Mottled Petrel just noticed he had on, the king departed. Once in the hallway, he was practically swarmed by the helmet snakes and geo vipers that occupied every nook and cranny of the fort. The king smiled to himself 'This place just might be the one, there's definately plenty of minions here.'.
---
Just a few notes, magic has spread around the fort and once I begin dropping the animals we don't need into the death pit that leads to the secondary fort I will begin the cheesening. Here's the occupants of the fort:
And here are the new noble positions that just opened up...
Anyone want to be a fortress? Or a castle?
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5 (6.5%)
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Topic: The Resurgence of Modded Hell (Back, Still Broken, Now With Giant Butterflies) (Read 284339 times)