DTW DeathTube #6, Kalinda RP 1/1: Great Balls of Fire

In early 2014 I was rudely yanked from my home by tendrils of magical power. Dragged across dimensional barriers to serve at the beck and call of he who summoned me. Yet another unexpected consequence of the necromantic artifact that I accidentally managed to have forcibly grafted to my arm.

I hold up my armored left arm. Dark metal plates reach from fingertip to clavicle, making me look like a slightly more gothic Winter Soldier. Which I suppose with my Ice element is kind of fitting. But I don't do eyeliner, which makes me less gothy looking. But then the fucking elbow of the damned thing is a skull, which is also gothy. Or punk-y. Wherever the fuck you'd stick Glenn Danzig. Because the damned horned, fanged skull looks a hell of a lot like his logo.

Okay, the eyeliner thing is a bit of a fib. I kind of get these black marks around my eyes when I'm drawing on dark and sinister powers. Like the gauntlet, or the evil cannibalistic dragon goddess that lives inside my head. But that doesn't happen often.

And it turns out what had happened is that my summoner was going through his rare and expensive tomes of exotic magic, and just so happened to find one that had fallen through the dimensional barriers and got fished out of the Void some time in the 1800's.

You'd think that you could just get rid of a tome of dark magic by tossing it into oblivion. A book whose cover is made from the stitched together hides of ritually sacrificed orphans, whose ink is made from the blood from a thousand woman ritually tortured and driven to suicide by slitting their own throats, written in a quill pulled from the tail of a very pissy swan.

Because you don't have to do anything to swans to make them unspeakably evil. They're already vile and sinister hell-birds suffused with fiery rage, ready to kill and maim at the slightest provocation.

DTW Deathtube #6, Claudia RP 1/1: Kiss Stealin', Axe Wieldin', Skull Mask Wearin', Children Scarin', WOOO! Clown of the Town!

I've been carefully monitoring my prey. Biding my time until the perfect moment to strike.

In order to be an excellent comic, you have to be patient as the most important thing in comedy is timing, and I've been waiting all day to make sure the joke for the setup is perfect.

My prey has to be alone, as not only can I not pop in when somebody is looking at the space where I want to pop in, but also because the presence of a certain third party would completely ruin the joke.

And not only does he have to be alone, but he has to be occupied with looking at something in front of him for a sustained period of time so I can get into the proper position and look all nice and relaxed like I'd been sitting there forever.

AND he has to be far enough away that he can't just walk up and slug me in the jaw before I get to the punchline.

Pathfinder: Lydia Fallon, Weird Rubato Bard

http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1032311

Uses the Weird Musician and Rubato archetypes.

-o-

You don't want to hear about me. I'm not very interesting. I can do interesting things and say interesting things, but listening to me talk about me isn't very interesting. The interesting person you want to hear about is my mother.

You may know here. Well, not personally. But you might know her name. Amelia Grace, the Lady Scarlet, singer, mage, musician, magician, muse-gician. One of the most sought after performers in… in… I'm not sure. I don't do well with names and places. Some big, important… thingy.

Maybe the city. Maybe an empire. It's hard to remember, as I was very small at the time, so I would be unlikely to fully recall even if I hadn't had my head cut apart and put back together two or three or twenty five times.

It's very tingly. Kind of refreshing to feel the fresh air blowing over your thoughts.

DTW Deathtube #5, Claudia RP 1/1: Undead Girlfriend

Oh blah blah blah, piddle-y piddle-y blah! You're a horrible, horrible person, Mister Taco Cowabunga, a complete and utter monster! Well, not THAT horrible, considering we've got a big old pile of peoples around here that are like 10 pounds of total depravity in a 5 gallon bucket.

But here you are with your plucky underdog fighty-man routine that everybody's seen a bajillion times, and it's boring all the little boys and girls out there, and more importantly me, to death!

Well, further into undeath, technically. Because I'm kinda-sorta not quite fully alive. But that's besides the point! I feel so bad for you, Taco Paco, I really do, because here you are in DTW with two dragons, a fake viking that I think just renounced his fake vikingry, a poop-obsessed spider-monkey, an insane grandma, and a dirty, dirty hippie.

On the bright side you probably smell better than all the non-dragony wrestlers, not saturated in your own bodily mess, patchouli oil, or Eau de Old Person. So that's something you've got going for you!

But even though you stand out here a bit because you're not completely and totes a tremendous buttmeister, I don't think you can really get very far in the wacky world of professional wrestling being a plucky underdog fighty-man. Especially in Japan where everybody is a fighty-man, and plucky underdogs are a dime a dozen.

Which is better than the US, where you'd be served merchandise driven frankfurters called Plucky Underdogs with somebody's face and logo stamped onto the bun. Or Korea, where Plucky Underdog would also be served in the concession stand. Wink wink nudge nudge say no more.

Thoughtlets: Pregnancy and Cadavers

From here:

"In the current system in the US and many other countries, cadavers have more rights than pregnant people. If I was pregnant and dying from it, and found myself at a catholic hospital, they could (and likely would) refuse to save my life if there was even a trace of fetal heartbeat. They would, against my will, forfeit my own right to live for the sake of a fetus-- a fetus that would also die when I did. Once I was dead, however, the hospital wouldn't be able to use my organs to save other people no matter how imminent their deaths. They could refuse to save my life regardless of how desperate I was to live, they could effectively murder me, but they can't touch my corpse without very clear permission.

Let that sink in for a minute. If I'm pregnant, I have fewer rights to bodily autonomy than if I am dead."