The world’s tiniest dragon must defend his hoard, a single gold coin, from those who would steal it.
Suggestion: The dragon’s definition of “steal” is somewhat loose. It still allows the coin to be used and bartered and change hands–but on one condition: the dragon must be with it at all times.
They become a familiar sight in the marketplace.
“Here’s your change, ma’am. One gold piece.” The merchant holds out a palm, on top of which rests a tiny, brilliantly colored creature clutching a single gold coin.
“That’s a dragon,” you say dumbly. “One piece… and a dragon.”
“Yes.”
You cautiously reach out and attempt to take your change. You tug. It holds. You tug harder. The dragon lets loose a tiny, protective growl.
“Ma’am–no, ma’am, you have to take the dragon, too.”
“Sorry?”
The seller notes your dubious expression. “Not from around here, are ya?” They shrug. “Them’s the rules. Take the coin, take the dragon.”
They wait expectantly. Wondering how the world has so suddenly gone mad, you slowly, slowly hold out your hand.
The dragon perks right up. It scampers from their palm to yours with the coin clamped in its jaws and scales your sleeve with sharp little claws.
“Have a nice day, ma’am,” the merchant says. “Spend him soon, now, you hear? At another booth, if you can. He likes to travel.”
From its perch upon your shoulder, the dragon lets out a happy trill.
Bonus: the coin eventually passes to the rogue in a group of travelling adventurers. The dragon becomes the mascot of the entire group, and they lay out a small pile of coins for him to sleep on every night, clutching his coin like a teddy bear.
Joseph leaned against the alley wall, bones aching from days of walking. His shoes had worn through; his clothes were threadbare. A small dragon scampered about his legs.
“You’ve got yerself a dragon.” Joseph looked up. In his weariness, he hadn’t even noticed the homeless man whose alley he’d invaded. Joseph gave a single nod. He didn’t yet have the breath to speak.
“That means you’ve got a coin.” the man continued. Joseph listened for any hint of avarice, and found none. Just simple conversation, “Coin like that should least get you a meal. Maybe even a bed tonight.”
As Joseph considered his answer, the dragon scabbled up his shirt before nuzzling at his shoulder. Joseph smiled.
Ursula Vernon’s amazing, wry poem, “This Vote Is Legally Binding,” is a double-barreled, remorselessly funny blast at the mansplainers, man-babies, and political correctness whiners of the world, written “In response to all those articles about talking to women with headphones.”
Someone always says it, whenever it comes up: “I guess I’m just not allowed to talk to anyone any more!”
Well. Yes. It is my duty to inform you that we took a vote all us women and determined that you are not allowed to talk to anyone ever again.
It turns out that asking a piece of software to decide which websites should be censored and which ones are legitimate has some problems, which I think comes as a surprise to all of us.
But it’s true!
Warner Brothers is one of many companies that uses software robots to compile lists of pirate websites, which are then turned over to search engines, hosting providers and other online services, accompanied with a legal demand that these sites be removed, on pain of legal retribution.
Warner Brothers is also one of many companies that make dumb, risible mistakes when it draws up this million-URL censorship demands.
But Warner Brothers does have the distinction of being one of the few companies sloppy enough to repeatedly demand the removal of its own site.
The Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals has stripped two Kansas Highway Patrol officers of immunity for their detention of a man with Colorado plates whom they believed to be suspicious because Colorado has legal recreational marijuana – thus any car from Colorado was a potential marijuana smuggling vehicle.
In rendering its opinion, the court did not mince words, making it clear that it viewed the patrolmen’s theory as total bullshit.
As we have said previously, “that the defendant[] [was] traveling from a drug source city—or … a drug source state—does little to add to the overall calculus of suspicion.” Such a factor is “so broad as to be indicative of almost nothing.” Moreover, our fellow circuits have concluded the state of residence of a detained motorist is an “extremely weak factor, at best” in the reasonable suspicion calculus because “interstate motorists have a better than equal chance of traveling from a source state to a demand state.”
…Currently, twenty-five states permit marijuana use for medical purposes, with Colorado, Alaska, Oregon, Washington, and Washington, D.C. permitting some recreational use under state law. Thus, the Officer’s reasoning would justify the search and seizure of the citizens of more than half of the states in our country. It is wholly improper to assume that an individual is more likely to be engaged in criminal conduct because of his state of residence, and thus any fact that would inculpate every resident of a state cannot support reasonable suspicion. Accordingly, it is time to abandon the pretense that state citizenship is a permissible basis upon which to justify the detention and search of out-of-state motorists, and time to stop the practice of detention of motorists for nothing more than an out-of-state license plate.
So, this happened during a Pathfinder campaign me and a few of my friends had a while ago. Besides the DM, there was a Ranger (me), a Rogue, a Paladin, and a Sorcerer who loved trolling. During our quest, we ended up coming across this abandoned mansion that was booby-trapped like none other.
For the first fifteen or so minutes of gameplay, my character alone got bit twice in the leg by bear traps, had a poison dart shoot him in the arm, and got shot by a ray of evil from a seemingly haunted painting. Needless to say, it was going to be a very long quest if this continued.
Sorcerer (ooc): Alright, I’ve got an idea. (to DM) I cast Prestidigitation on [Ranger] to make it look like I put a barrier up around him.
DM: Okay…
Sorcerer (ooc): I then tell him that I’ve made him invincible as long as the barrier is around him.
Me (ooc): I don’t think Prestidigitation works that way.
Sorcerer (ooc): Maybe not, but your character doesn’t know that.
Me (ooc): Oh, you fetcher!
DM: Alright, [Sorcerer], roll to Bluff, [Ranger], roll to Sense Motive.
We both rolled, and I rolled a low enough Sense Motive and [Sorcerer] rolled high enough Bluff that my character believed his…at least to a point. So, we get to the end of the hall and notice a small divet in the floor. Our Rogue is able to find that there is a trap there, but she can’t tell what or where it is.
Me: Well, let’s do this. (ooc) I rush towards the door.
DM: Alright. (rolls, then pauses) As you run towards the door, two large axes swing down to cut you in half…
Me (both in and out of character): Frick!
DM: …but something in the trap mechanism gets caught, and so they both stop an inch away from you as you pass by, and then drop to the floor.
All of the players were in complete shock. Eventually, my Ranger turned to [Sorcerer].
Me: How long is this invincibility supposed to last?
DM (to [Sorcerer]): Roll to Bluff.
Sorcerer: (rolls Nat 20) Indefinitely.
Me: (turns to the stairs) I’M INVINCIBLE!!!
What happened from then on was incredible. Every trap my Ranger came across failed epicly. Flamethrowers from the walls? They sputtered out as I passed by. Haunted paintings? Their evil rays bounced off my armor. Spikes from the floor? They’d jam up as I’d pass by. The only trap that worked was a trapdoor, and even then I somehow only took one point of fall damage.
Me (ooc and after clearing the mansion): This is awesome!
DM (rubbing temples): This is a headache.
Sorcerer (ooc): It’s like a placebo, but better!
For the rest of the campaign, my Ranger genuinely believed he was invincible. While the DM didn’t have as bad of a Fail-rate as he did in the mansion from then on, my Ranger still managed to be the one who dealt the most damage and survived the most mortal wounds.
TGIC! Thanks goodness it’s Caturday! Let’s take a moment to celebrate those cats in our lives who aren’t fond of posing for photos with their humans and aren’t the least bit afraid to show the world exactly how they feel.
Head over to Pleated-Jeans and Bored Panda for many more photos of hilariously camera shy kitties.
5 Tips For Clogging Your Drain To Keep Whatever Is Trying To Come Up Out Of It At Bay
When you’ve got something trying to claw its way out of your drain, sometimes it can be too expensive to pay someone to clog your sink for you. Try out some of these tips instead!
1. Only use red hair to clog your drain: The last thing you want to hear while you’re trying to brush your teeth in the morning is the sound of long talons incessantly tapping at the inside of your drain pipes, longing to escape from your walls so it can insert its eggs into your cat like a spider wasp. One simple solution to push back the abomination that keeps trying to pull itself up out of your drain is to go ahead and shove some red hair down your sink, but make sure you ONLY use red. The clump will naturally act as a barrier, and the growling thing down there seems to be afraid of red hair, while black hair does nothing, and blond hair gives it strength.
2. Yell down your sink for the beast to leave you alone: Sometimes the best way to clog your drain is with your voice. The unknowable nightmare in your sink may not understand English, but if you get your face right into your sink and sternly shout phrases like “I don’t like it when you live in my drain!” or “Please stop rattling the pipes when you reach your sexual climax in my plumbing!” it will understand from the tone of your voice that you are not playing around, which will hopefully lead it to shrink back to whatever hell it spawned from.
3. Try sacrificing a plumber into your sink: It’s hard to think about anything else when the beast under your sink keeps reaching its hand up to steal your toothbrush off the top of the sink then scurrying back down the drain. One easy solution is to invite a plumber over, slit their throat, and let their blood gush out into your sink. The little drain-dweller will hopefully take the blood of a plumber as a peace offering, and will realize that you are not an enemy but a follower. Upon that realization, maybe, it’ll respect you enough to stay on its own turf. This tip is extra-effective if your plumber is also an ordained priest.
4. Don’t shove any electronics down there because whatever’s down there has the intelligence to figure out how it works: You might think that throwing something down your drain that’s a little more durable, like earphones or even an old cell phone, would clog up your sink so bad that you wouldn’t hear another banshee howl from whatever the fuck is down there. But, this crawling gag reflex is not stupid. If you drop any kind of electronic down your drain, the creature in your sink will undergo the process of evolution so rapidly, it will develop inventions humankind could never fathom and use those to free itself from your sink and threaten life as we know it. So putting electronic devices down there: a big no-no!
5. Know when it’s time to just give up and move: Sometimes you can try as hard as you can, you can follow all the rules, but at the end of the day, the unquenchable thing in your sink ends up winning. There’s no shame in accepting defeat, packing up your things, and leaving your place. Hopefully, you won’t have the same problem in the next place you live!
