Well, chat, after that emotionally fraught and emotional update with the last one I come to you with a minor add on.
We are once more on the run again! After talking to the church and having Princess Shrimp-For-A-Butt wander off to a brunch date with the New New Girl at Das Strööpwaffel, we had a bunch of robots march their lanky, long-armed asses through the woods looking for us.
Like… I suppose that they might have been there for benevolent purposes. But having nearly a dozen arcane robo-assassins marching through the woods when… you know… we're not supposed to talk about magic and are supposed to refer to it as hockey, Pokemon, and mascots and whatnot means that somebody is not taking their part of the whole veil of secrecy seriously.
Clanky-Clank and the Clunky Bunch aren't exactly the most subtle things in existence considering the ones we say looked like an assortment of candy with Generic Jawbreaker White, Classic Lime and Definitely Not Sour Apple Because Sour Apple Sucks and I Fucking Hate You Lifesavers For Replacing Lime for a Shitty Flavor Which I Hate, and also Grape.
I suppose that green is kind of okay in a forest, but is very much not okay anywhere that is not a forest. And white pretty much stands out everywhere, and purple is literally the antithesis of camouflage.
So yeah, a squad of Lord Neckbeard's generic endoskeletons came after us, even though we've already been well and thoroughly stuffed into Mascot Costumes. At least I presume that's who they are. You don't really see many things with… hockey pads in "New Zealand."
They made have been some random Animatronic Pizza Parlor owner's endoskeletons, in which case my fuckin' bad Edwin Murray, but maybe you should've kept Fucko the Clown and his Merry Circus of Fists and Fury down in the Basement of Shame along with Mr. Moon.
Because I didn't even get an ED-209-esque "Stop right there, criminal scum! You've violated my mother! Come quietly and have the decency to mop up the floor afterwards!"
I summoned my spear and had a fastball special with Stabby Junior going along for the ride and a second robot got two daggers to the face while robot one got pinned to a tree.
Anyway, it turns out that combat is definitely my element. While I didn't have any cool moves like Wayne Gretzky (the former Pokemon Trainer stuffed into her own Mascot, not the actual hockey player) who got to unleash a wave of uh… icy slush, I do have this thing where I exude an aura of imperious malice so intimidating that literal inanimate objects bow down in fear and terror and bow to my presence. That and I do like Luchasaurus and kick them in the fucking chest so hard they fall over and I ride that to the ground with a follow-up stomp.
It was actually very therapeutic and fun? Which is kind of weird since in real life you're supposed to have this whole "war is hell" type of thing going on. Maybe it's the dragon soul that's been grafted onto me wanting to fight battles against worthy opponents. But don't worry, I don't have the ability to choose any three powers I like, so I'm definitely not accidentally in control of three world-ravaging conflict engines because I have an ego the size of a small planetoid and want a worthy fight for my magnificent power and such.
And I figured out why I don't really have any sense of fear. One of the robots managed to punch a hole into me. Not through me, but it made a hole that broke through my armor and had its fist penetrate my flesh. I didn't even assume the position, FISTO, lewd!
I'm pretty sure that would've killed a normal person and if it had been a little bit harder I would've passed out. But I didn't. But anyway, I had an animatronic fist-sized hole in me, and it closed up in about a minute or so.
I've got Jason Voorhees meets Wolverine levels of stupidly ridiculous regeneration, yo, and that's on top of the fact that I appear to be super tanky. Like John Cena at his absolute Super Cena worst levels of no selling going on.
I'm stupidly hard to hurt and recover stupidly quick when you do hurt me. And the thing is that I was throwing myself in front of the blows for others and I was… really good at it? I was protecting my teammates who are in the same stuffed into a blonde white lady Mascot-themed boat, which you would think wouldn't be something that a dragon would do.
Except they're squishy and I'm a heckin' dragon.
And also they're mine.
They belong to me and I'm not going to let anybody damage and break things that belong to me.
The very idea of that pissed off my inner dragon something fierce, particularly when one hit Stabby Junior so hard that she flew into a tree, got knocked unconscious, and had a conversation with a hive-mind of shadow babies that were looking for their mommy.
Which is weird, because it's Princess Shrimp-For-A-Butt that's the Zergling, and thus thematically ought to be playing Mommy to a bunch of itty bitty swarmlings and such.
I literally German Suplexed that robot so fucking hard that it exploded into a bajillion little pieces.
And the best part? The whole feeling of having my soul being swallowed up by the dragon inside me that I was talking about? Yeah, the nibbles I felt kind of… stopped being nibbled on and I felt a lot better after showing a bunch of animatronic jackasses just how inferior they are in the face of true draconic majesty.
So basically I have a dragon in my soul that I have to feed a steady stream of combat, show lesser beings that they have no chance of succeeding against my prowess and majesty, and keep it entertained.
Chat, I have literally been training for this by using you guys for practice.
So from the bottom of my little (or potentially not so little) black heart (I have no idea just how big full-sized Dragon Me is), I want to sincerely thank you. Because if it wasn't for you guys, I might have ended up having my soul nommed by an ancient mythological beastie.
Love ya!
-Veda
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