Trouble Brewing

There was something WRONG about this city. The one eyed witch sat scowling at her spellbook searching for answers. After her brief run in with some rather atypical “Normals” Tanya Spellbinder had abandoned her objective and retreated to the shadows. But she was a witch, and a damn “good” one at that. Rather than lick her wounds her search finally found the spell for what she really wanted. Her one solid red eye glowed in malevolent delight, as she began to chant the incantation for the harbinger of “irreparable chaos” to this pathetic little city.

Somewhere across the skyline a “murderpit” glowed ominously.

    • Derpface Dork
      Derpface Dork

      Launchpad McQuack was not a fragile being.  And he woke up from his tasering And Staggered to his feet pulled the bits of the murder pit out of his shoulder and was prepared to beat Quiverwing again until he realized he was alone.  
      "Gosalyn.... Negaduck?  What?"
      He wasn't bleeding enough to ruin any upholstery, and it was less then three days later, which was good for a typical one on one fight.  He looked around
      He was stunned as he saw a murdered cape full of swiss cheese holes
      "Ewwww." Launchpad had a brief grossed out moment "Hate to be on the other end of that."

      But it led him to frightening sight
      He was expecting a body like a chicken cutlet attacked like a meat tenderizer.  It was only fall damage.  Barely on fire at all and certainly not cooked through.

      He heard a faint almost breathing noise
      "Negaduck...  are you okay?  You aren't taking a garbage nap again."
      Negaduck couldn't even speak.  And when Negaduck stopped talking Launchpad was worrying.

      Unlike every sane being in St. Canard, he was upset to see Negaduck injured. The big lumbering goon panicked as he saw his friend and boss lying there. Negaduck might even be on his way to the giant murderpit in the sky... or in the ground since Negaduck would probably rather go to hell.

      "Negaduck.  Its me Launchpad." He decided to give him a consciousness test.  Maybe he was just sleeping  "Your best friend....  The genius one, who is not a pile of garbage."
      It was one thing is Negaduck wasn't shooting his mouth off.  But for Negaduck not to panick and scream and abuse Launchpad, when he made a simple declaration of friendship....  That was terrifiying.  Negaduck should be saying "I DONT Need friends" and insulting Launchpad, throwing a knife or china plates at Launchpad.  He must be near death.

      "I made the fake murder pit too good.  I do fail at everything."

      He craddled his head and hoped that you didn't tenderize duck meat before cooking it
      "Just let me check to see you didn't break your back or pinch a nerve."
      He then lifted him gently out of the debris and set him on the ground.

      "I can't even make a good fake murderpit. I'm the worse guy ever." Launchpad wailed to himself, near big manly tears of panic as it seemed his friend Negaduck was in danger.

      • Negaduck

        Unseen by the lumbering lackey, an unnatural light had began to emanate from deep set wounds. 

        Broken bones healed, ruptured spleens repaired, bruised pride...

        ... no, that would take a little longer to recover. 

        In any case, the splattering of saltiness across the masked maniac's face heralded what would have been called miraculous had it not been for the personage involved. 

        Angry eyes snapped open. 

        "What in Hades are you bawling about?!"

        That was not the effect of true love (of a henchman to a villain). That was true annoyance.

        As if Negaduck could run on anything else.

        • Gladstone Gander
          Gladstone Gander

          As her voice rumbled out the last lines of the incantation she felt a considerable weight on her shoulders. A little dazed she shook her head, and wiped a few beads of sweat from her brow.  She stared at the condensation, that had taken a lot of energy.  Whatever her magic had set to do it was no small task, like prying a soul from the set jaw of a hellhound, or a prize from the reaper. If only she knew how accurate that line of  thought had been.  She grinned to herself, sure that when she looked out over the city it would be engulfed in flames or at least being ripped to shreds by the lamprey faced gods of the old realms.  Nearly drunk at her sudden dip in magical energy she reached a window and prepared to admire her handiwork.

          But there was no change.  The smile vanished from her face instantly as she stared at the cityscape, as if willing it to explode into green flames and spiders.  Nothing. Her breath suddenly became ragged and angry.  Fury spilled over in the pit of her stomach and spread throughout her like wild fire, she shrieked, seized her spellbook, and immediately threw it against the wall. She hated this stupid, stupid city.



          ((OOC: okay you boys have fun.  She'll chime back in when it suits her))

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