A koopa stands at the entrance of a fledgling koopa fort, a stream of koopa migrants is heading towards him and a group of snail merchants is actively doing drugs in the trade depot next to him. The koopa at the entrance seriously considers doing drugs with the snails instead of dealing with the migrants.
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'I guess it's that time again, time for me to be 'responsible' or whatever' Mottled Petrel thinks as he pulls out a clean sheet of paper. The first koopa approaches, seeming innocent enough to Mottled Petrel, but the greater being inside of him recognized a fellow greater being. "Welcome to Modded Hell, home of The Amber Brunch, probably one of the most successful koopa taverns in the empire. What's your name ma'am?" "Eris" "Skills" "Novice wood cutter, novice carpenter, great thresher, novice cheese maker, novice herbalist, and novice special weaponmaker" "Really? What kind of weapons do you make?" Eris giggled, with a surprisingly deadly glint to her eye "Oh, you'll see".
Mottled Petrel frowned "Whatever, do you have a specific profession name you'd like?" the being inside of Mottled Petrel already knew the answer, because it had already acquainted itself with the lesser god of chaos before it "God of Discord and Strife" Eris replied with another maniacal look. Mottled Petrel nearly snapped the charcoal pencil in his hand when he heard that "Uh, as much as we support the freedom of individual decision here, I'd like to ask you to not promote discord and strife in our fort. You can just keep doing what you know how to do, and make us some of those 'special weapons' you were talking about if you get the chance.".
Eris did a small curtsy "Very well sir, it's a pleasure to be a part of Modded Hell. Oh, and my husband, Set, is back there with his pet stegosaurus, Nokook Castlebrand. He's been a bit down since he had to leave his bob-omb apprentice, Swoben Bombumbombub, behind by order of the king." "Oh, what was he teaching him?" Eris slowly grinned, a grin more sinister than Mottled Petrel thought was possible with a beak "The art of disorder and violence". Mottled Petrel blinked a few times 'I don't think I need to ask why these two got sent here' "I'm, uh, happy that he was able to experience the joys of mentoring. He taught quite a, uh, fitting profession for a bob-omb. We've got some stray bob-ombs inside if you think that will cheer him up." "You can tell him that yourself, because here he comes.".
Eris walked inside, and a koopa walked up to Mottled Petrel with a young stegosaurus, this was presumably Set. "Welcome to Modded Hell Set, your wife told me a little about you, but I still need to ask some more. Skills?" Set finished petting his stegosaur so he could reply "Novice organizer, adept record keeper, great glazier, proficient writer, expert reader, and a great geographer." "I'm guessing you want a special profession name similar to your wife?" "Yeah, how about, God of deserts, storms, disorder, violence, and foreigners? Actually, I don't care to write that down on all my papers, how about just God of disorder and violence?". Mottled Petrel sighed, and the greater being inside of him thought something along the lines of 'this guy is as much of a tool as I remember him being' "Alright sir, you can have that title, but the chances of us ever needed a glazier are minimal. How does macekoopa sound?" Set ran his tongue along the edges of his beak in a slow, deliberate, and incredibly unsettling manner "Perfect".
'A match made in heaven' was all Mottled Petrel could think as he shook his head and marked down 4 steel mini-chomps to be made "Alright, head on in sir, bottom of the ramp, hallway to the left, first room on the right. The bob-ombs are in the second room to the right if you care to train any.". Eris walked inside, eying up the place as if it were his new hunting grounds. A stray hunting manectric trundled in behind him, stopping before the entrance to take a few sips out of the alcohol moat. The next koopa was a far more mundane one, but still had the air of incompetence around him that told Mottled Petrel that he was sent here for lack of skills, and not psychopathy "Name" "Sanctume" "Skills" "Novice engraver, novice mason, novice weaponsmith, novice armorsmith, novice metal crafter, and adequate shearer. I know, I know what you're thinking, 'this guy has taken on too many professions, and that's why the stoneworker's guild, metalworker's guild, and the farmer's association all voted to send him to Modded Hell', but I'll tell you this: I am more than capable of mastering not only these professions that I've started, but as many as I set my mind to" Mottled Petrel looked up from his notes "No, that wasn't at all what I was thinking, I'd much rather have an unskilled worker with ambition than a worker who refuses to work. That was also a very specific thing for me to think of, is that why you're here at Modded Hell?" "Well, that might have been the final push to get me here, but mostly I'm here to live with family. My aunt EPM, my uncle Stingpie, and my other uncle Urlance Woolsbane already live here, and I manage to convince one of my cousins, Imic, to move here with me. I also love steel and dolomite, and I heard that Modded Hell is mostly comprised of dolomite and you allow low skill workers to work with steel." "Steel and dolomite are about all we really have right now, so you're in luck. Continue with your current professions and we'll talk later, and maybe you can teach a thing or two to your aunt, because she's our most skilled metalworker right now." "I'll get to it, and you'll have more mastercraft tridents than you know what to do with before you know it".
The next koopa was one that Mottled Petrel recognized from the royal pasture that he, uh, destroyed. He couldn't remember her name "Hello ma'am, you're that lawnmower technician from the mountainhome, right? What are you doing here? It seemed to me that you were the only one I knew who actually had a stable job." Scarlet_Avenger looked down and idly kicked a stone by her feet "Yeaaaaahh... My skill set was actually just directing people to the different lawnmower models. Once the animal handlers had to get to work rebuilding and retraining the animals after that horrible accident everyone found out that I didn't really have any applicable skills for my position. I got fired, and before I could find a new job I got a notice saying that I was being 'reassigned' to Modded Hell. But now that I'm here I'd like to finally learn the trades of animal trainer and mechanic." Mottled Petrel nodded "Alright, well what are your skills now?" Scarlet_Avenger took a long inhale as if she greatly regretted what the answer was "Adequate beekeeper, I kept a hive a combees in my room in my off-hours, so I could probably set up similar hives if you want me to." "Don't worry about it, most of the people here come with no experience. From now on you are on animal training, animal care, and mechanics. Our lawnmowers are fine as of so far, so you're probably going to be on cage trap duty.".
Scarlet_Avenger nodded thoughtfully a few times, before looking back at the koopas still coming behind her "You might have a bit of trouble getting any information out of my husband, Asin, so I'm just going to tell you his skills now. He's a parakoopa, a novice markskoopa, a novice animal trainer, caretaker, and dissector, and he just has such a way with words..." a smile grew across her face as she presumably remembered good times with her husband "... but unfortunately, I think you would only be able to characterize him as a novice wordsmith, poet, and speaker. He also says a lot of... odd things. so try to not let it get to you, he's really sweet once you get to know him.". Mottled Petrel remembered the name of Asin, and knew that he had his work cut out for him, he gestured for Scarlet_Avenger to go inside as he watched the koopa with dark sunglasses walk up to him. "Na-" "-I'm here to kick ass and chew gum, and I'm all out of gum!" Mottled Petrel stared at the winged koopa in front of him for a few seconds "I know that you're a ranger, so for now you're going to be a hunter until we can get an archery range. I'll have a steel cannon made fo-" "-Double the guns, double the fun!". Mottled Petrel rested his head on one of his hands in agitation "Just please, go inside" "Well, I'm here now. We'll settle this once and for all." Asin exclaimed to no one in particular as he walked inside.
'And this migrant wave was showing so much potential' Mottled Petrel thought, as an incredibly muscular koopa bore down on him 'Oh geez' "Hello sir, welcome to Modded Hell, name?" the koopa in front of him looked at Mottled Petrel like he was a puzzle box ready to be taken apart, and then begrudgingly took out a small letter with the king's symbol written on it with wax. Many who saw the king's unorthodox method of marking his letters often said 'it would be so much simpler and more efficient if you made a stamp so you can seal your letters with wax instead of just drawing a symbol with wax and then sealing it separately', the king's usual response was something along the lines of 'fuck you' or 'I'm the king, I make the decisions'. This letter was no different, but a letter from the king at all was a rare occurrence. Mottled Petrel opened the letter as the larger koopa stared down at him.
'To whom this letter may concern, I have sent the holder of this letter as far away from me as possible for a number of reasons. This koopa happens to be a great gem setter, but one day he came to me and
DEMANDED that I give him a chance to try to make some of his trap ideas. Despite having no skill in mechanics or guidance from some of the available, more accomplished mechanics, he showed me some pretty convincing diagrams that made it look like he was at least creative, so I allowed him to set up his supposed trap in an old exploratory mining shaft. I went to check on his progress a few days later before he was done, and the hallway was coated in blood with half-dead animals caught in the midst of restricting, bladed chains. Normally, I would have patted him on the back and sent him to the trap maker's guild, but farther down was the sentient creature testing and the insanely brutal traps he had neglected to show me diagrams of. It was at this point that I lost the contents of my stomach, and I promptly signed the forceful relocation form. Let him near your mechanisms at your own risk, but if there is any damage done to the caravan by anything trap related there will be consequences. Other than that, I have included the first installment of your government pension in this letter.' Mottled Petrel fished into the envelope to pull out a single copper coin, minted with the king's face 'Good luck, Sincerely, the king of the koopa empire.'.
Mottled Petrel looked at the muscular koopa still standing next to him, who had pulled out a large, almost plank sized, notebook from his shell and was now busily drawing deliberate lines in it. Mottled Petrel folded the letter and gingerly held it for a few minutes, thinking. "The mechanisms are in a stockpile at the bottom of the ramp, have at it." Darkening Kaos flipped through the pages of his notebook, and then walked inside. 'All we've got for trap components are spiked wooden balls and cages, so have at it'.
Only two more koopas were left in the migrant wave, and they both walked up to Mottled Petrel hand in hand "Hello, I'm Imic, and this is my wife rainbowdashfanboi84. My cousin Sanctume has asked me to come live with him with our aunts and uncles at Modded Hell. These are also my wife's aunts and uncles, but she also has a letter from the king and her own reason for coming here, which she has decided to withhold from me." Rainbowdashfanboi84 then handed Mottled Petrel a letter signed by the king, similar to the one he received only moments before. Mottled Petrel opened the new letter, and this one was much simpler and to the point.
'We caught this one dressing up horses and role playing with them, and I didn't care to actually come up with a punishment for a peasant with 0 redeemable skills, so she's your problem now. Signed, the king.'.
After a few moments Mottled Petrel continued with the usual questions "Skills?" "I'm a novice fish dissector, fish cleaner, and fisherkoopa. And my wife is an adequate poet, a competent dancer, a competent singer, and an adequate stringed musician.". Mottled Petrel didn't want to continue with the questions, because he had really had enough with the migrants, but he did anyway "Preferences" "I'd like to be a meat architect in our new home, and I'd like the title of fortressier. My wife would like to be a guard, she hasn't said anything about a weapon preference, but she'd like any horse-like pets if you have any.". Mottled Petrel cringed a little, not wanting to repeat the issue that got her thrown out of the mountainhome in the first place "Imic, you are now all stone working professions except mining as well as architecture. Rainbowdashfanboi84, you're now a sword koopa, I'll have your long swords made as soon as I can.". Imic looked at his wife, who nodded "Alright, come on Nokopoc" Imic said, and a small kea chick landed on his wife's shoulder. The final member of the migrant wave was a stray war Pa'u style oricorio, who walked inside looking like it had no idea where it was. Mottled Petrel looked up from his notes 'Is that it? Thank god, it's going to be a nightmare trying to pretend to care about all these new people.'.
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Everyone has now been koopa'd except MoonyTheHuman (Sorry, still waiting for some kind of doctor), and we now have more unskilled fighters. I'm kinda confused as to how most of the people now in the fort are related, and some of the marriages are between concerningly close relatives, but other than that things are going well, until they inevitably don't, but oh well.
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Topic: The Resurgence of Modded Hell (Back, Still Broken, Now With Giant Butterflies) (Read 284350 times)