Kirby Krackle

Everyone's posts are out of wack! Start at the beginning!

I never really was on your side, Mr. Luthor.

Bombs? Pssh.

Edit: Sorry for the vague post. Here I am with my hands free. We took in some kittens from assorted litters about two days ago. Their health was assured, from what I heard, but we saw otherwise. They were very thin, dehydrated and had bad diarrhea. Tonight, one of them faded. We tried our damnedest to make sure she would actually make it to the only Emergency vet nearby. Corn syrup on the gums, a heating pad and force feeding a mix of water and sugar and chicken broth. We were ten minutes away from the vet before it was time to turn back home. I buried her as soon as I got out of the car. I named her Savra.

GLORIOUS!

Fungus smiled wide and greeted the Boros officer as he reentered. The thought of return customers thrilled him. It meant he was doing something right. Though, upon closer examination, it looked like the lawpony was having a far worse night than he. Might as well indulge his requests to get that smile back, regardless of how insane those requests may be. After all, he knew that "strongest in the house" meant absolutely nothing in a barrel but four bottles labeled "Never Use. Ever. This means you, boy!" by his father. They were a special order, never paid for by some upper class Rakdos (There is such a thing, amazingly enough) and contains a proof he doesn't even want to imagine. He was pretty sure it tasted like distilled war crimes and foal's tears and could properly set this entire neighborhood on fire. He poured a single shot of the deceptively clear liquid, as per order. May Razia watch over him. "It's a shame about that preacher, Forest. He have any family?", he finally answered his friend, whose attention was shifted onto the little blue mare. Why would he be so glum about giving somepony a promotion? Who knows. It's not his place to ask.

*bow* You know what I like? How you guys are using some of the actual cards. It adds flavor and saves time on writing. Good show, folks!

Pro-tip #7: Security. Forest Touch didn't need to tell him about this little nugget of common sense. Ravnica is a dangerous city to live in, with the Undercity being even worse. To open any kind of anything anywhere close to down there is asking for trouble. To serve alcohol? Madness. Fungus Amongus did first ask his extended family to help with matters, which included being a bouncer, but they were no help. Deadbeats. But Fungus was of the Golgari and mighty proud to say it. If he needed the help, he would make the help. Being an Earth Pony, he didn't have the proper equipment to do any real magic: namely a Unicorn's horn. But there is a small catalog of spells available to him with the right potion and the right set of runes. One of them is the spell all Golgari kids know before they grow up: Vigor Mortis. In short, it raises and strengthens the dead. On a complex creature like a pony, the spell in his hooves would take some time to set in before any zombie pony is made. On a creature simple in nature, especially one he's familiar with, say... a Thallid, he could have that corpse walking around in no time at all. If push came to shove in this bar, he would make a monster to protect it. Briefly he considered doing so, while overhearing stories about cutting dragons in half and seeing a knife being pulled. Thankfully these were both false alarms. No need to ruin this night with an arrest. On a happier note: his guests were enjoying themselves! Glorious! So why not give them yet another little treat? One by one he blew out the candles illuminating the place, leaving only a few lanterns by the bar and the one candle each table burning. This would darken the room just enough for... "Panellus Stipticus, commonly known as the Bitter Oyster. And Omphalotus Nidiformis, the Ghost Fungus. I've grown these spores into the wood of the building itself. If you see one blooming, please don't eat it! Just enjoy the light show", he announced as the natural bio-illumination of his breeds gave his bar a beautiful glow-in-the-dark green. With a wink, he found Forest in the crowd and give him his nasty concoction. Hey, it's what he ordered, and did tell him that "The first one is free."

Oh my stars and garters! An unaffiliated! I was so hoping to get one of these! Good show, Valence! In the meantime, I figured an official application was in order, despite the fact that I'm running this joint. Roleplay Type: Return to Ravnica Name: Fungus Amongus Sex: Male Age: Stallion Species: Earth Pony Eye Color: Cream Coat Color: A red/brown mix. Rusty. Mane/Tail/Markings Color & Style: Moss green. Tail kept short. Mane in dreadlocks that cover his eyes. Physique: Taller than average and bulky. Cutie Mark: Amanita Muscaria. Origin/Residence: Ravnica, specifically his family's property in the Undercity. Occupation: Rot Farmer (hiatus), bar owner. Motivation: To keep his family's business afloat. Likes: Molds, spores and fungus. The Golgari Swarm's philosophy on Life and Death. Peace and quiet. Hard work. Fermented foods. Dislikes: Ponies afraid to get dirty. The irrational fear of "zombies". Over-thinking and meddlers. Character Summary: Born and raised in the Undercity by loving parents. For practical reasons, their Rot Farm was close to the surface as they shipped mulch and compost to above ground farms, as well as accepted deliveries of trash from local sources. Growing up, he found mushrooms fascinating due to their tenacity to grow in the dark and filth, where nothing else could. This love went so far as to wanting a Thallid, or "Cattle Mushroom" as a pet. Though his parents, given the willies at the thought, always said no. As a treat, he would be taken up to Simic research labs and libraries for some recreational study of Mycology and Mycotoxology, if he put in a little extra work on the farm in exchange that is. There, he met Forest Touch, who dreamed of becoming a doctor. Despite their differences, they became friends and eagerly showed each other the ins and outs of local Guild life. During a sleep over at the farm, he full on tackled Forest before he could eat a wild Death Cap, which he mistook for a common and edible Button. His cutie mark came then. As thanks for saving his life, Forest Touch "borrowed" a Thallid specimen from a lab to give to Fungus. He was thrilled. Too thrilled to realize his taxonomy was off. It wasn't a tiny baby Thallid, but rather a tiny baby Sporoloth, which can grow taller than most trees and flatten most buildings. To make matters worse, he nurtured the creature during the annual Doubling Season. It became massive. It rampaged. It had to be put down. His parents were comforting though and told him that his fallen friend would be in the garden from now on, making everything that grows there stronger. This was his first lesson about death, which he took to heart. Much more recently, there was a fight between some random gang of Rakdos thugs and Boros agents trying to bring them to justice. The arrest got out of control and spilled into much of the Undercity. His parents were taken hostage. Reckless fire magic from both parties and noxious gasses from the sewers nearby caused an explosion that took the lives of all but a few officers and Fungus Amongus, who lost his leg in the process. From a legal standpoint, the Boros Legion was quick to pay for damages to the farm though Fungus had to convince a few lawyers and accountants that his parents will be raised and can reclaim rightful ownership of the property. In the meantime, he needed to keep the family business alive somehow. Thankfully the family stores were undamaged and he opened a bar, selling suds and a variety of fermented foods.

A laptop and a lunch break. Halleluiah.

Pro-tip #5 is one that Fungus found counterintuitive, mainly due to his years of experience in farm work: Prepare fresh every time. "But Forest", Fungus would say, "Surely it would be better to slice up everything in advance to cut down on cooking time? Isn't faster better?" Forest Touch insisted otherwise. All dishes should be made to order. He would then add something snarky like 'The wait time can rot. Just cook faster.' Just cook faster, he says. Good thing Fungus got his knife training in today while preparing the sampler platters. He was thankful, because the practice meant chopping a dozen mushrooms (and two onions) were a breeze. Fifteen minutes in the oven later and he was out of the kitchen, two orders of six ready to go. 'Now come on, Fungus', he demanded of himself, 'If you can remember textbooks worth of Mycology and Necromancy, then remembering who had the mead along this should- Ah. Got it'. To the Izzet with the shiny mitten it went. The solo platter went to the little blue mare who couldn't speak up. Wait. Is that... it is! "Hey, what's up, Doc!" he chimed, cheerfully waving to Forest Touch. "Funny thing, I was just thinking about you. Bad things, I promise", he jabbed. "And business has... heh, mushroomed. And yeah, I'm pretty sure we have that one left. But with coffee? Eww." On the way back to the kitchen to both deposit dirty dishes and check his stock again, his leg got a brief itch. Nothing to think of it until he realized it was his zombified leg. On most days, it has absolutely no feeling in it, pain or pleasure. It's dead, after all. "Maybe I didn't screw this up that bad after all."

Team Captain? Awesome! In other news, I decided to kick open MVM with a circle of friends I spend not as much time with. Most of them are inexperienced players, where as I have no social life to speak of and basically live on the game (and here). The map was Coaltown and why oh why oh why were they not listening to me when I begged and begged and begged to gaurd choke points? That first entry way, with it's narrow(ish) corridor is the absolute perfect place for Rockets and Stickies and Sappers and a well placed Buff Banner. Yet the other five guys wanted to turtle back at spawn. Fine, whatever, I help my team. So I go Engie against better judgement (we already had 2 at this point) and set up my Sentry in a not frequently aimed at spot, complete with high ground, above a bridge the bots would be coming through. A very narrow bridge, i.e. chokepoint. Nope. My team insisted I just sit it at spawn, facing the bridge, with complete line of sight to rockets and arrows. I try not to ragequit with friends. Luckily I had to make dinner. Chokepoints, people! Chokepoints! Also, anyone got that Metal Fedora as a drop? I'll pay handsomely.

Then there's this guy: http://www.youtube.com/user/jcarlson04/videos Seek and ye shall find, my brothers and sisters.

That wasn't shouting. Not by any pony's standards, but bless her she was trying. He did catch the word 'Mead', though and announced that we would be back shortly with her beverage of choice. Considering the seven out of eighteen barrels labeled 'Mead' as a challenge, he worked through his mental catalog of recipes, trying to find the most appropriate brew. He eventually spotted a name he would often see on orders placed by the Selesnya. Must be the milder stuff, he reasoned. A taste test confirmed things and into a mug it went, off to his next thirsty customer.

"One cuppa joe coming right up, officer!" A pro-tip Fungus received from a friend regarding the art of restauranting was to never ask how a patron takes their coffee. If they have a preference, they will make mention as they order. If not, simply present them with cream and sugar and let them figure it out. So, as quick as a whip, Fungus was in and out of the kitchen with a hot mug of java with a tiny ceramic pitcher of chilled dairy and a sugar dispenser as neighbors. Another pro-tip: keeping up on customer orders. He heard the little engineer ask for hard cider and was in the back room as fast as his bum leg could carry him. Though, once there his haste scrambled any relevant thoughts on which barrel to crack open. 'Hard'. What did that mean exactly? Alcohol content, he told himself, which is directly related to time spent fermenting. The older the better. Following that concept, he ignored the brews he had prepared in advance for this evening in lieu of of a barrel sitting alone and forgotten in a dusty corner. His father's chicken scratch label read 'Apple cranberry' with a seal date of five years ago. Perfect! "Strongest in the house", he advertised to the Izzet as he slid her a chilled flagon. "If this doesn't knock your socks off, then they finally built that cast-iron stomach I keep hearing about." Pro-tip #3: Samples. You will be surprised how much a pony will buy once you give them something for free. And tonight is a party, so why not start off with something special? Stuffed mushrooms to be exact. It's a recipe he's been working on since long before he got this crazy bar & grill idea. "Agaricus Bisporus", he announced, now back from another trip to the kitchen, this time wheeling out a cart carrying six dozen carefully prepared snacks. "More commonly known as the White or Button Mushroom. The younger version of the Portabello. The stems have been removed, chopped fine and sauteed with onions and fresh garlic. Cream cheese and a raw egg act as a binder, then the caps are stuffed with this mixture. Bread crumbs and a little Parmesan make a crust on top, then I washed it all with butter and set them to bake". There he was, rambling again. The social awkwardness only shows through when he's not talking about things that reproduce with a cloud of spores. "Ahem... well, that is... since this is Mushroom Kingdom's grand opening and all...", See? Stuttering. "And since this is the Guildpact Festival and all... these are all on the house. Please! Enjoy, everyone!" Please enjoy, he mentally pleaded. Please please please please please enjoy. Pro-tip #4: Greet every customer as they enter. And remember to smile smile smile. "Good evening", he chimed to the awfully tiny mare who stepped in. Though, for the life of him, he couldn't hear a blasted thing over the din. So her order was lost on him. "What can I get for you?"

Go right ahead! Also, for everyone, I can only do so much with an iPhone and a lunch break. Post slow. I love you all but wow I need a full keyboard and the F5 button.

A few notes on how the some of the Guilds have changed, if any. Mainly it's race of the leaders. Judge Azor the first, as well as Razia of the Boros Legion: both Alicorns. Szadek of House Dimir now a Changeling. It makes too much sense. Rakdos the Defiler, bringer of chaos? Draconequus. Borborygmos, now Minotaur. The Choros of the Conclave is unchanged, still a hive mind of assorted ponies. Same as the Ghost Council of Orzhov and Svogthos, who is still an immortal zombie head. The Izzets here should be happy to know that absolutely nothing changed. Still a Dragon. Still the biggest brain on the planet. The Simic, who I can find no immortals for, I'm still working on, though not so much as nobody is playing a Simic yet.

You guys are bananas. Not peanut butter and banana sandwich. That's amazing. You're all the bad kind of bananas. 5 Guys is amazing.

Ponies. Ponies are cool.

Well. That's done. Door's open, folks. Enjoy the party.

How much is one hundred years of peace worth? Weigh this against the alternative: continuing the centuries of mindless violence and brutality. Such was the world ten loose-knit factions lived, all waging an endless war against each other and causing a countless loss of life. Of their leaders, nine out of ten were willing to see to the end of this combat if the end result was indeed their dominance over the world. The last, Azor, an alicorn of vast power and cool logic, realized that if these actions remained unaltered, the only result would be absolute destruction. So he, with the confidence of some and reluctant compliance of others created their ten guilds: Azorius, Dimir, Rakdos, Gruul, Selesnyan, Orzhov, Izzet, Golgari, Boros and Simic. These ten would go on to build and maintain Ravnica, a metropolis whose infrastructure spanned the globe. Next came the signing of the Guildpact, a global peacekeeping enchantment to ensure the survival of the ten faction and forever end the violence that threatened to consume and destroy them. Every tear since then, on the anniversary of the Guildpact's signing, a city-wide and day-long festival is held, where every pony from every guild can forget their petty squabbles, drop their swords and make merry. The Guildpact's Centennial is where our story begins. Enter Mushroom Kingdom, a homely little bar and grill that just barely managed to open its doors in time for the biggest party of the year. Construction has just recently ended, with every nook and cranny attended to, down to the bar stools and menu. Despite the freshness of the place, it's still in not-a-great part of the city and the occasional plank of wood is showing signs of water damage and mold. But the place is dang sturdy and in otherwise pristine upkeep, its owner would say. After all, Fungus Amongus can do only so much with a horsehair budget. Fungus Amongus? He's a woody red stallion, and pretty darn big. His main is dreaded, covers his eyes and sports a bright mossy green if he remembers to wash up after working the fields. His cutie mark, very distinctive white speckled and candy apple red mushroom. You know the kind. "Amanita Muscaria, more commonly known as the Fly Agaric", he would say before talking your ear off about his modus operandi. The Golgari Swarm raises their foals strong and smart. "Have to be both to keep that wheel spinning." That wheel meaning the cycle of Life and Death. "Practical Necromancy is not the stuff of bit-store horror novels. It's what gets the garbage picked up every morning and the dinner on your plate every night." Prior to running a dive, he and his family, like most of the Golgari, ran a Rot Farm, theirs specializing in fermented and pickled goods though the real money came from mulch. There was one unpleasant night three months ago, where the arrest of some Rakdos thugs went beyond the Boros's control and severe property damage pretty much destroyed the farm, took Fungus's back leg and the lives of his parents. Most would be broken up over this, but the Golgari Swarm does not bury their dead. They plant them. Having learned the ritual when he was very young, Fungus made quick work of giving them back to the soil. Their return should be any day now. The courts are well aware of this and cannot very well auction off the property of those only between states of living. Ever the hard worker, Fungus took out a loan (since the Boros were kind enough to pay for the damages to the farm) and opened this dive to keep income flowing during repairs, serving the family's surplus of vittles along side some cheap to make "But mighty tasty!" wines and spirits. As for his leg, that was reattached, though the rituals for that were... slightly botched. It still works fine, but he'll have a limp for life and as well as stink of rotten eggs. The assorted plant matters keeping his necrotic flesh sturdy are making sure of that. * * * Something has been bothering Fungus for a while now. Something he's forgotten. Apron snug? Check. Picked egg jar full? Check. Bar wiped clean? Check. Lights on and door open? Check. Balloons? That's a big check. He hasn't yet practiced that "Call me Fun-Guy" friendliness that bartenders were supposed to have, but hospitality training can happen as he goes. Meanwhile, the clock has officially chimed midnight and the Festival Guildpact has officially begun! Time to welcome those customers and get this party started! ...wait, he forgot to advertize, didn't he? Oh bother.

No 18+. I'm pretty sure the occasional scrap, if any, can be solved within those confines. Also I juggle writing intros and reading bios as we speak.

The Italian sub at Jimmy John's can't be beat. Though I do have a soft spot for what's called the Shamrock at a local deli of mine. It was Pastrami and provolone with cole slaw and french dressing. I don't know why but WOW it hit the spot.

Which makes me feel even guiltier. My day off sucked. For lots of reasons. But I'm going to work on my nice big intro for you guys tomorrow during my downtime at work. Rest assured, this will be up and running absolutely positively as soon as possible. So get excited! Get me psyched! Tell me what's on your minds about those characters you're cooking up!

Or retool old ones. I'm not picky.