A fresh new day dawns on a pleasant koopa fortress. Smoke is wafting through the air, there are corpses littering the surrounding fields and the main soaking in puddles of unknown substance, and the moans of the mortally injured pervade the ears of anyone who passes by the hospital. Down below the fortress, the koopas experience what has to be the cutest murder to ever have been witnessed.
---
"Today's going to be a good day, I can feel it" Mottled Petrel said, not completely untruthfully, to himself and the other, less optimistic onlookers. Not even three seconds later, Mottled Petrel felt a dreadful chill run down his spine and into the tip of his tail. Not only that, but he had a sudden craving for cheese.
'Hmmm...' thought Mottled Petrel '...I wonder if we have any snow leopard milk gouda left'.
---
Diary of the Overseer of Better Hell
It has worked, after days, nay,
WEEKS of beating around the bush I managed to get that stupid wood burner to read the sacred texts.
Truth be told, I don't think he actually read it, but it seems that just looking at the pictures is good enough, which is good news for me. By all means he appears the same, but he has a weird look in his eye, and a new... dairy-like odor about him.
I must get to that book myself before I run out of rations, and then I must put the powers of the book to the test on the corpse pit that is ever so conveniently nearby.
---
In the tavern, a particularly unruly guest decided to pick a fight with one of the denizens of Modded Hell. What they didn't seem to understand was the fact that being a forumite, the troll they decided to sucker-punch without warning was at least three times bigger and at least twice as strong as they were.
It only took one punch from the troll to send the forumite's head facing the other way, snapping his neck instantly. The 20 or so other visitors were mortified, but the hired performers who had been in Modded Hell for a while payed no mind to the foam dripping from the mouth of the still convulsing forumite corpse.
A few of the less emotionally resilient visitors immediately dropped to the floor and began incoherently wailing. This was enough to get Mottled Petrel to look through the door to see what was going on. After seeing the mangled body, the blood covered troll, and the screaming bards he decided it wasn't a serious enough matter to get involved in.
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Today has yielded partial success, I have finally been able to decipher the great book but I have come across troubling results. It would appear that despite our best efforts, the corpses at our disposal are unsuitable for conversion into cheese minions. It may be because they are too badly damaged, or that the corpses of sentient creatures are required, but either way it won't work. Plan B, of course, is to dig a secret passageway up to the corpse stockpile above us once we have made usable picks. After that, we may be able to raise our cheese army and have enough manpower to legitimize our claim as a separate fortress. I will see to the preparations immediately!
---
Mottled Petrel removed his ear from the drawbridge that separated him from 'Better Hell', "Why the hell is he speaking so slowly and deliberately to himself, is he writing all that down or something? Whatever, like hell I can just let him up onto the surface near that many corpses!". Without a moment's delay, Mottled Petrel set in place the plans for his master countermeasure.
"Uh, sir, you know one of them is a parakoopa, right?" said one of the workers. Mottled Petrel frowned slightly "Put a roof over it once you're done then!".
Almost as if the gods themselves wanted to tell Mottled Petrel that his idea probably wouldn't work, a hoard of half man half insect vampires stormed over the hills to the north.
The bob-ombs put up a valiant fight, taking on average three hits before dying pitifully without exploding. In defense of the bob-ombs, the Crimson Court was a far more competent fighting force than the previous invaders, which scared the shit out of the koopas who had been getting their asses kicked by just about everyone, only to be saved by the ever present forest fires. Fortunately, or unfortunately, they possessed the common sense to not attack such an unpredictable place as Modded Hell with the exuberant number of soldiers as the previous armies. Even if one of their hulking barons could sweep aside the entire koopa army, just about everything in the known universe began working against them the second they stepped onto Modded Hell controlled lands.
Still, the koopas stood next to their tower quaking in their boots as they prayed for some random cataclysm to befall the invading army. Unfortunately, the caged incineroar refused to do anything and there were no monsters in the area, so both sides stared each other down. The vampires began a slow advance, killing a wandering glameow and a few visiting bards on their way. The invaders had to cross through the frogog pen in order to get to the koopas, and while they were busy cutting down the innocent man sized frogs the koopas advanced.
For once, the cesspool of venom that was the frogog pen actually helped the koopas, as the invaders were soon covered in extreme swelling wounds. In hindsight though, it may have not been a good idea to let an enemy that gets its power from drinking blood have uncontested access to a bunch of defenseless animals, as many of the invaders had turned into more powerful forms of themselves before long. Regardless, the collective lightning of about 30 koopas was a bit much for them to shrug off. Too busy sucking the blood out of the frogogs, a third of the invasion force was killed with minimal return fire. During this fighting, Mottled Petrel was surprised to learn that the AK 47's he had had made had been given bayonets, increasing their combat effectiveness.
The rest of the invasion force was more prepared however, as they didn't have the distraction of easy prey.
It was a bloodbath, all 30 koopas practically crawled over each other to get to the enemy and swamp them under a wave of flesh and koopa steel. The vampires were unable to resist for long, and for the first time in Modded Hell history an entire invasion force was cut down by actual military competence instead of dirty moves, fire, and/or literally anything else that could have killed anything short of a god.
Casualties were shockingly minimal, an untrained recruit had died and another untrained recruit had lost one of his arms, more than acceptable numbers considering that most of the enemy was at least three times the koopa's size with the capability of draining all of them into bloodless raisins. And to top it all off, a lot of the frogogs had been killed, which saved Mottled Petrel the effort of having them thrown into the pit because there was too many of them.
As the koopas began to pick themselves up, the first of the trading caravans arrived to be greeted by a field awash with blood and insect parts. The traders were terrified, and many saw it fit to throw up right onto their mounts. The tomtenisses who had been hired into the koopa army felt a similar compulsion, and a good portion of them looked like they were about to snap from the stress. The koopas however, even the untrained ones, shrugged it off and went back to wondering what they were going to make themselves for lunch later that day.
Once inside, many of the koopas were surprised to learn that the almost completely untrained SQman had killed the majority of the invasion force.
SQman himself didn't know what to think of the matter, because he still verdantly wanted to go back to the smelters but had somehow accidentally proven himself to be a great fighter. Mottled Petrel decided to address the matter when he actually had a replacement for him. Furthermore, it was discovered that Lord_Lemonpie had lost the use of both of his legs and had somehow been able to hide that fact from everyone up until now. He refused to use crutches, and instead opted to crawl on the floor.
By now Mottled Petrel had realized that the merchants would probably never have anything of actual value worth buying or importing, so he just waved them off and told them to bring what they want. One of the merchants, who was wearing some sick sunglasses, frowned and replied "That wasn't very cash money of you". It took most of Mottled Petrel's willpower to not have him executed on the spot. Nevertheless, it would take the koopas quite a bit of time to carry in all the rotting clothes still plastered to the bodies of the dead invaders to the traders, so Mottled Petrel decided it would be a perfect time for a nap. Unbeknownst to him, however, trouble was brewing in Better Hell...
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Just for anyone who only looks at this thread when I change the title to tell everyone that I release an update, of which I'm pretty sure there are at least a few, I figured I'd put a final notice that Modded Hell is now Hall of Legends eligible for anyone interested.
Now, onto more important matters, does anyone know if the game can handle a single creature knowing more than one 'secret of life and death' secret? I'm thinking about stealing another book, probably one of the 'secrets of dragons' ones and giving it to the tyromancers as well. Also, I've come to learn that in all of my years of making unnecessary aqueducts and reservoirs I never actually learned how to use pumps, so the anti-fire system should be fun, and could also do with a cool acronym.
P.S: I ran out of cool names for the thread.
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Topic: The Resurgence of Modded Hell (Back, Still Broken, Now With Giant Butterflies) (Read 284439 times)