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But ironically, the guy with the eidetic memory is also the guy who would most like for the whole thing to be forgotten, so I don't know how much help Nume would be if Dafydd asked.

"What? No, I certainly do not remember being violently press-ganged into piloting an embarrassing pink pig robot in an ostensibly epic, very silly Saturday-morning showdown. Don't contact me again unless you're hawking more fire-lizard eggs."

That's probably the best he'd get. {= )

~Neshomeh

...The PPC is also pretty old too, isn't it?

While it was an honest mistake, I still feel really guilty about my part in that whole debacle...

So I don't know how many of you know, but on Discord I've offered to draw people's agents. (Many thanks to Tomash for suggesting I put this on the Board)

If you would like me to draw your agent, please PM on Discord or respond to this message. Some examples of my drawing should be avaliable on the Discord.

Hope everyone's having a nice day!

It's listed in agent Fritz Sorgebrunnen's and agent Silas's files.
Perhaps someone should delete the links in question.
I will miss the two agents that were removed from this series all because of a mistake last year involving TVTropes that surely remains unforgivable by their author(Who WILL not be named, but we all know who she was) to this day.

"Dafydd?"

"Yes Connie?"

"Why do we have a giant robot in the back garden?"

Dafydd arched an eyebrow (which was totally wasted on the computer in front of him). "I got it on that mission; remember?"

There was silence from the other room, and then Constance, in her I'm-being-patient-so-I-don't-hit-you voice, said, "Obviously I don't remember, or I wouldn't have asked."

"Huh?" Dafydd turned in his chair to frown at the door. "The big mission they pulled me out of retirement for. 'Go Go Canon Rangers' and all that?"

"... that never happened."

"Er, yes it did?" Dafydd glanced back at the computer, as if it might offer him some guidance. "I mean, why else would I have a giant robot?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Constance said, through what sounded like gritted teeth. "And you're not helping."

"But it- you- come on, you must remember, we read the mission report together afterwards." The elf span back to the computer, tabbed through the filing system to his PPC folder, and sorted the reports by date.

None of them were newer than 2006. The eyebrow went up again.

"Tanfin!" Dafydd called. "Have you been mucking about with my files?"

"Uh, no, Dad," came the much-too-sassy voice of Dafydd's eldest son. "Why would I?"

"He did!" That was Oleander, six years old and a mortal terror when it came to dobbing in his siblings, truthfully or otherwise. "I saw him! He was mucking!"

"I wasn't!" Tanfin protested. "Dad, I wasn't!"

Dafydd rolled his eyes. "Right, well... don't!" He closed the folder and loaded up the ICEP interface Narto and Lou had cobbled together for him. "Let's just get hold of another copy," he muttered, typing in an address and firing off a quick message.

The computer whirred, and then bipped. [User not found], it reported in small, neat letters.

Dafydd rolled his eyes. "You'd think they'd have a forwarding system set up for retired agents," he said to the empty room. "What was her partner's name again...? Oh, right."

Bip. [User not found. Did you mean to type: The Librarian {[0.4342944819.console.192.168.2.1.External]}? NOTE: Agent The Librarian is <deceased/insane/retired> and cannot be contacted.]

Dafydd stared at the screen, then reached out and shut it off. Getting to his feet, he walked to the window and stared out at the gigantic, phoenix-shaped robot lurking at the bottom of their garden.

There was a soft sound of footsteps, and then Constance draped her arm across his shoulder. "It's okay if you can't remember," she said, mock-soothing. "Old age gets to us all eventually, and you are quite ancient, Maglor my dear."

"No," Dafydd murmured, his eyes still fixed on the towering Zord. "I remember. Even if nobody else in the multiverse does... I remember."

---

You can take Dafydd's giant robot over his cold dead body, and historically, getting him to stay that way has been a tricky proposition.

hS

Dang, has it really been that long? Guess that makes it ancient by Internet standards.

As for the badfic, we can always just, y'know, pretend it doesn't exist. We don't have to glorify it by celebrating its anniversary, or even acknowledging it at all. That's always an option. Crazy, I know, but someone had to say it. {= P

~Neshomeh

I feel kinda bad about laughing? But, eh, it's not like Chaos clone clowns are real people anyway, amirite? {; P

(I love the Shameless Plug strip, too. ^_^ )

~Neshomeh

The mission, as is the case with everything else written by the person who missioned it, whom we are no longer at liberty to even name per said person's explicit request, is now considered uncanon. Therefore technically it still lives and never died. If you say its name three times in front of a mirror at midnight, you get given a cupcake, and nobody knows why.

I'd do it myself but I'm not super up on my OG Power Rangers. Not that it'd really matter, but still.

Yeah, the idea hit me when I finally got round to reading the lore for Blood Bowl itself. Originally, the Blood Bowl world was very much akin to the Warhammer Fantasy world - lots of war and fighting and so forth. One day some dwarves stumbled across the tomb of an ancient forgotten chaos god called Nuffle whose texts sent the dwarf scholars trying to decipher them completely round the twist. You will note that Nuffle is one possible way of pronouncing NFL. This is deliberate.

Eventually, the now totally dribblingly insane dwarves produced a viable rulebook, which was useful because the orcs were attacking outside. They agreed to solve the battle through the use of a game, and thus the game spread out across the Old World, raising Nuffle to prominence and lowering the standing of the other Chaos gods.

In this story, part of Nuffle's madness infected the travelling circuses and other forms of entertainment that might threaten the dominion of Blood Bowl over the hearts and minds of the masses. One of them tried to game the system by forming a Circus of Blood Bowl... and this drew the gaze of Nuffle. The leader of the circus, an old-school clown called Uncle Chuckles, was cursed to forever fail, forever be a source of ridicule for daring to try and cheat a god.

So he made the best of it.

And thus Uncle Chuckles' Dismal Circus was born.

(Uncle C and the Useless Circus is a spinoff franchise that does a lot more touring. =] )

Though I am not on the Discord. |D

Since it looks like we'll have to skip someone either way, let's not break people's plans

But, you're welcome to do the first chapters without me, if it works for everyone else.

~Neshomeh

Well that was an unexpected twist.

I'd been wanting to give Chuckles a hug throughout pretty much the entirety of the player descriptions (you did a very good job of making him someone who needs a hug - and some food - and so on). And hen the bit at the end where this is apparently all Chaos BS wasn't something I expected but it does make sense.

Anyhow, that was interesting and good (and very experimental).

- Tomash

This year will mark the 25th anniversary of Agony in Pink in November. This fic needs to stay dead.

Long story short a wacky series of coincidences has left me couch surfing until Monday. I’ll be on a train to my next couch surf then.

Have a good time with Mel!

- Tomash

I play Blood Bowl. I love Blood Bowl. But I've never thought about a Blood Bowl team as a medium for storytelling before. As such, I did an Experimental Literature all over the carpet, and it's a real pig to get the stains out. Here's the result! Read the team bio first, then click on the player names in order. You don't have to understand Blood Bowl lore or anything because I don't either. =]

Uncle C and the Useless Circus is available for your reading pleasure here. I hope it is to your collective satisfaction, and welcome any comments and feedback in the thread.

Enjoy. =]

I might not be able to make the first bit of the reading. It's my anniversary on that Sunday - I thought it was the 31st but it isn't - so le Mel and I are going out.