Fruity Rumpus Asshole Party - D&D Edition [Closed RP]

Hey there! This is a closed thread which will follow the adventures of @lupadracolis, @Makizushi and @rainbowbarnacle as they play Terezi, Dave and Gamzee playing D&D5e, who are playing characters of their own, with myself playing Rose as the DM, guiding them through a oneshot that I have designed. Meta gaming shenanigans will ensue. All rolls are legit.
Homestuck IC actions and speech will be enclosed in [ ] brackets. Game IC actions and speech will be normal format.

 

[Rose sits on a beanbag, cross legged. Her DM screen's decorative backing features fierce creatures of the Underdark, with an Ilithid front and centre. Her laptop sits open on top of the players handbook and monster manual, and she drums her fingers on the spine of the Dungeon Master's guide. The evening promises to be interesting. She consults her notes while waiting for her players.]

 

[Rose is absolutely surrounded by nerd paraphernalia when Dave walks into the common room. He looks around, sees that no one else has showed up yet, and seriously considers making a break for it. Rose doesn't even look up at him but he knows that she'd know if he bailed on her Play Pretend Party. And he knows that she'd know that he'd know how unhappy she'd be with him.

So, instead of making his escape, Dave slouches into the room and sits next to her. He takes in the lists of spells, monsters, and other sundry bullshit and decaptchalogues the new and improved character sheet he made earlier.


He spreads it flat on the table and gazes at it fondly, like a mother with a particularly slow but beloved child who just managed to put the mashed peas in his mouth instead of down his pants for the first time. He is, in other words, very proud.]

 

[Rose eventually looks up, and then down. Her lips compress for a moment, then her cheeks spasm. Is she trying not to laugh, or cry? Possibly both. "I see you brought the full force of your creativity with you, Dave. That's good." A pause. She takes the sheet between two fingers, like it was coated in something disgusting and she wanted to avoid contamination. In this case, the coating was a concentrate of Dank Memes. Lethal if not handled carefully. "I particularly appreciate your Sanic speed stat."]

 

[Dave stares at her deadpan as she examines the sheet. "I hope you're taking this seriously Rose, nothing is more important than the arbitrary rules that govern this make believe game for grown-ass adults. I put my heart, soul, and other significant body parts and theoretical religious constructs into that character. Scruff McGruff, Crim Doge was birthed from my very own loins. Gave my poor, pained wrist quite the workout." He shakes his left hand out with unnecessary drama. His wrist actually does fucking hurt though, his mouse decided to stop working about 30 seconds in and for some unknown reason he'd decided to soldier on using the track pad instead of getting up to alchamize a new one.

Oh wait, the reason was laziness. Mystery solved in record time.

"You'll note that I get advantage on dice rolls. Thanks in advance."]

 

["Of course Dave. You know I have poured my heart and soul into this collaborative storytelling project. The hours I have spent, sequestered alone, laboring with quill and ink under the flickering light of an alchemized candle to create this narrative speak to that. I know you will treat my efforts with respect." She pats a thick, heavy tome that had previously been concealed by the dungeon master's screen. Somewhat clumsily embossed in silver is a large depiction of her eldritch squiddle emblem, a callback to more innocent times. A heavy lock seals the tome to prying, meta-gaming eyes or noses. It gives off a strong scent of coffee. This was made by hand, with love.]

 

[Disappointed to find the door to the common room already open, Terezi takes in a long breath through her nose to make sure neither of the humans present are looking at her, then reaches into the room and closes the door. She then slams it dramatically open, striding over to Dave, Rose, and the chance to terrify her companions with her superior roleplaying skills. She even went and pre-alchemised a white version of her red dragon cape to wear. She struts over to the table, taking a seat opposite Rose and next to Dave, depositing both of her character sheets onto the table. "Do not worry, my friends! I am here, your champion and protector. You can now rest in safety, because the Honorable Pyralspite is here."]

 

[Dave visibly startles at the sudden loud noise and tries to hide a scowl when it turns out to be just Terezi. That was embarrassing; commence pretending it never happened. When she presents her character sheets he reaches over and plucks his true one from between Rose's fingertips. "Hey Tez, nice cape. I made a character too, here, have a sniff."

Of all the people and alien bugs on the meteor, he thinks she'd get the biggest kick out of it, even without being able to see it properly.]

 

["I don't know who this "Tez" is you're talking to! I am the Honorable Pyralspite, paladin of Casa, but I will still inspect this page." Terezi takes the sheet of paper delicately from Dave and holds it up close to her face, sniffing deeply. "I smell... irony, cranberries, and several unexpected animals." She touches the tip of her tongue briefly to the sord; not enough to dampen the paper, but enough to get a good taste, judging by the face-splitting grin she adopts immediately afterwards. "And your weapon is delicious! I hope it damages our foes as well as it tastes."]

 

["Sadly, that is not the sheet Dave will be using today. Should we ever venture into the world of Pugmire, perhaps we shall find use for it there." Rose retrieves it from Terezi's grip, and then tucks it into the back of a folder behind her DM screen. She passes Dave his real, and laminated, sheet. "Thank you for joining us, Lady Pyralsprite. Please place any weapons on the table - this is a blood free game, remember."]

 

["What a shame! I was looking forward to battling alongside a furred compatriot, but I shall of course be equally willing to accompany any other people you deem more worthy, Lady Rose. After all, you wrote our adventure." Grin still in place, Terezi half-rises from her seat, drawing what appears to be an invisible and very long sword from a scabbard by her side, laying it out on the table over Dave's character sheet. "Make sure not to touch the blade, it's very sharp."]

 

[Karkat crawls along one of the larger entrances to the ventilation ducts, making as much noise as possible with his knees and elbows in hopes of attracting the attention of vents’ resident moron. The smugger, spookier of the humans seems to have managed to rope Gamzee into a “role playing game” and now, somehow, it’s Karkat’s job to make sure he’s preparing correctly.

When he was first informed of this disturbing development Karkat nearly took a swipe at Rose; there is no way he’s watching his moirail get mixed up in some kind of FLARPing fiasco. Apparently, as was quickly explained to him, the human version of role playing involves less actual weaponry and more sitting around a table with various number randomizer bits and lists of pretend fake monsters for tiny scared wigglers who poop hard in their waste collection cloths. Also, Vriska isn’t involved, so Rose was able to talk Karkat around to the idea.

This means that Gamzee needed to “create a character” using a bunch of esoteric guidelines. Extremely complicated esoteric guidelines. Rose, and privately Karkat, doubt his ability to stay focused that long, so Karkat was tasked with checking up on him before the start of the game. Why Rose can’t scurry through the vents getting covered in dust and mothergrub knows what else to chase Gamzee down herself Karkat does not know.

Distant honking catches his attention; hopefully Gamzee heard his flailing and various shouts along the lines of “GAMZEE GET YOUR SKELETAL GLUTES OUT OF THIS HELL MAZE BEFORE ROSE SKEWERS BOTH OF US.”

---


“Now why the motherfuck would she all up and be doing THAT, my brother?” he says, his voice much closer than it was a moment ago. “IS SHE GETTING HER CRAVING ON FOR SOME WICKED CLOWN KEBABS? ‘Cause I ain’t got no meat on me, she’s gotta be knowing that.”

Gamzee’s head abruptly appears around the corner, making Karkat freeze just in time to avoid his horns. He is wearing the same tattered clown shirt Karkat alchemized for him two weeks ago, and every inch of him is covered in a thin coating of dust, cobwebs, and smears of half-dried paint. In one grimy fist is a sheet of paper which looks to have been written on with the same paint. Grinning, the clown boops his best friend’s nose with one bony digit, leaving a whiteish dot. “YOU ON THE OTHER HAND. Are just too goddamn sweet for kabobs. SHE’S GONNA ALL UP AND HAVE YOU FOR DESSERT IF AT ALL.”

He hands Karkat the character sheet.

---


The sound of Gamzee’s voice practically right next to him startles Karkat, and he freezes just in time to save his face from impalement. “God fucking damnit Gamzee, how do you scoot your moldering corpse around these filth tubes so fast and quiet?”

He ignores the sickly sweet endearments, thankful that his hot blush is probably hidden by the dark. Finally, the vents are useful for something. He takes the crumpled, dirty paper Gamzee shoved at him. “I’m not looking at this in here, I already feel like I’ve been buried alive.” He wiggles backwards, thankful that he only made it a few feet into the vent before Gamzee found him. He falls out onto the floor, dusts himself off, and ducks his head back into the vent.

“Come out before I drag you out by your sniffnub. Please.”

---

“I’m just bein’ all up in my element, is all,” says Gamzee. He follows Karkat down the vent and watches while Karkat makes his way out of the duct. “ONLY ‘CAUSE YOU ASKED NICE, BRO.”

It doesn’t take him long to climb out. Once his feet hit the floor, he dusts himself off half-assedly and lifts his arms over his head in a long stretch. “Mmmngghhh.” Lazily, effortlessly, he turns that stretch into a backbend, his lanky body forming an arch. Several vertebrae rearrange themselves noisily.

“Hey bro. HEY BRO. Is this all up to be getting your nostalgia gland pumpin’ something fierce? ARE YOU ALL REMEMBERING THE LAST TIME WE UP AND PLAYED A MOTHERFUCKING GAME TOGETHER?”


---

“Oh yeah, that’s exactly what I want to be thinking about Gamzee. I’m pretty sure you’ve ‘triggered’ my ‘ptsd’ as Kankri and Rose would put it. Also I’m not playing. Her Imperious Condescension herself could hand down a royal decree; Dave could promise to suck my bulge every day for the rest of my life; you could bribe me with a luxury pile of rainbows and unicorn butts and I STILL would not play your stupid wiggler game with you. Anyway, let’s look at what… you…”

Karkat flattens out the crumpled sheet as much as he can and just… stares at it for a second, the look of dismay clear on his face. “What the taint fondling hell is this? Rose really is going to murder you.”


---

Gamzee is laughing before Karkat is even halfway done explaining just how much he will not be playing this game. His arms and legs wobble theatrically, as if his gigglefit weakened him, and he lowers himself to the ground. “Awww, brother, okay. I TOTALLY FUCKING BELIEVE YOU.” he nudges his foot with his foot. “What? IT’S MY MOTHERFUCKING PLAY SHEET.”

The play sheet is full of barely legible paint squiggles. Gamzee put “yes” for a lot of the character traits, with an emphasis on dexterity and wisdom. Under “Inspiration” Karkat will notice his cancer symbol drawn in the little box. There are a lot of painstaking little doodles in the spell casting page, mostly tiny pictures of himself dressed as a wizard or court jester or a magic shirtless, pantsless, codpiece wearing fairy with :o) and :o( on the wings. A few portraits are of him as a “teeny ass leprechaun”, where he’s wearing an inexplicable little pointy hat and dancing a jig with silly shapes around him.

But the most striking is the backstory:

Once upon a motherfucking time there was this lil weirdass alien by the name of Manbat who had two magnificent lusii that loved him very much. But one night this rudeass monstrous motherfucker up and shot both of them right in front of him. When Manbat all grew up and shit, he decided it’d be a bitchtits idea to get his motherfucking vengeance on, and so he embraced his motherfuckin’ destiny and took up his clubs and painted the dark city rainbow with the blood of the unrighteous and the unfunny.​

---


Karkat collapses heavily on top of his idiot moirail, like a brick landing on a pile of cloth wrapped bones. “This is Batman’s backstory Gamzee, you can’t be Batman. We finally get this moirail thing down, and you were going to actually spend some time getting to know my ‘human boyfriend;’ don’t tell me you haven’t been creepily avoiding him. It was going to be so great. And now, instead of any of that, you’re going to get yourself torn apart by the horrorterrors living in Lalonde’s soul. You’re too young to go out like this, let me help you fix it.”

There are, in fact, four pages of nonsense, each more hilariously disturbing than the last. “These are not ‘yes or no’ questions, clownfart. And what are all these little squiggles and doodles? Rose told me she sent you some kind of digital guide or book or something.” He makes himself comfortable resting against Gamzee’s chest, head nestled under his chin, and decaptchalogues his crabtop.

“She sent her make-believe rules shit to me too, that’ll help you pick out… whatever these inane stats are supposed to represent. And instead of ‘Manbat’ maybe try something a little closer who you are? To my understanding they’re supposed to be a sort of heroic, fantasy version of yourself, at least in the game Lalonde is running right now.”

He pulls up the documents Rose sent him and tries scrolling through. It’s… dense, to say the least. “What do you think?”

---


Gamzee makes a show of going “oof!” and flailing a bit as Karkat flops on him, even though Karkat is more in danger of getting poked by an errant pointy elbow than anything. As Karkat settles, he makes a cage of his lanky arms and legs, resting his chin between Karkat’s horn nubbins with a content sigh.


But then Karkat starts berating him about all the shit Gamzee was supposed to do, and he makes a little whine in the back of his throat and nuzzles his hair. “I know, bro, I know. THAT SHIT AIN’T EASY AS IT SOUNDS THOUGH. A motherfucker’s got a backlog up to his goddamn ganderbulbs of shit he coulda shoulda went and did. MY PAN IS ALL UP AND SCREAMING ALL THE TIME, ‘GET THY PENANCE ON, GAMZEE MAKARA.’ Now that I don’t got no pies gumming up my works no more, I can’t motherfuckin’ forget.”

His voice drops to a melancholy mumble at that last bit, and he makes a little squirm that says clearer than words that he wishes he could, and that he knows the others remember.

“BUT DON’T YOU WORRY ABOUT THAT. I bet your lil’ grimdark sis will dig the wicked shit out of this paper if she knows you’re all helping me at it.”

Gamzee tries, really and truly he does, but his eyes glaze over the moment Karkat starts scrolling. “Uhhhh. THERE AIN’T GONNA BE NO TEST ON THIS, IS THERE?”

---


The way Gamzee’s voice goes all sad and self depreciating does something twisty and uncomfortable to Karkat’s bloodpusher. He abandons the husktop briefly to twist around and carefully pap Gamzee’s cheek without disturbing the paint. “Well, socializing like a normal person instead of creeping around like a weird, honking ghost will go a long way toward showing everyone that you’re better now. You’re not the only person, or even the only person playing that game, who’s been panfucked by the green spooky scary skeleton monster.”

He gives gamzee’s nose a last, definitive pap and goes back to trying to decipher the character creation instructions. “If there is a test we’ll both fail miserably together. But I don’t think anyone made their sheet on their own; Lalonde said she’d offered to help, but figured you might prefer whatever incompetent assistance I could give instead.”

---


He nods decisively. “Let’s do this then.”

Once Karkat is settled with his laptop again, Gamzee peers over his shoulder at the page Karkat stopped on. It’s about monks. Gamzee is instantly interested.

Together they go through the sheet. The stuff with all the numbers is completely baffling, and wrapping his head around all the alignments is something of a challenge, (”But how can a brother be chaotic and neutral all up inside himself at the same time? SOUNDS LIKE SOME KINDA SHAMBLING PARADOX MOTHERFUCKER.”) but they get through it okay.

Gamzee heaves a ragged, relieved sigh once they’re all done and just sort of drapes himself over Karkat to show just how exhausted he is. “There, I give thee Nowhere Mann.”

Karkat is very proud, and this lifts Gamzee’s spirits considerably. They drop again once Karkat announces that Gamzee is not showing up to the game looking like something his lusus regurgitated, and so it’s off to the ablution chambers, where Gamzee endures a shower and a painful half hour or so of Karkat brushing his hair out as gently as he can.

Soon he is dressed in clean, newly alchemized clothing. Karkat refused to let him have the rainbow tie-dye shirt as it would undoubtedly cause Terezi to have a small aneurysm, to which Gamzee snickered and said Karkat was no fun. In the end he ends up wearing his normal polkadot pants and a bright purple shirt with a trollian symbol on it.

In the end, it’s decided that Gamzee should go to the gathering without Karkat. “It’ll be good for you to.”

“But--”

“You can do this. You just made a kickass monk and you don’t smell like a vent grue. You don’t need my help for this part.” Karkat paps his palm over Gamzee’s lips, muffling his profoundly unhappy honk. “They’re good people, bro. They want you to be there. And I’ll be just over in the next room.”

“Okay, brother. I’LL GO AND GET THIS BITCHTITS DICEPARTY STARTED.”

Karkat’s lips quirk as he takes Gamzee by the shoulders, turns him around, and gives him a pap on the butt to start him walking. “Be good, asshole.”

Some minutes later, Gamzee pokes his head in the room wearing a bright grin. See, look how sociable he is! “WHAT IS UP, MY BROSISES?”

((Karkat credited to @Makizushi)) ]

 

[Rose beams. She honestly wasn't sure if her last player would be making an appearance, and she half-rises from her beanbag, hand extended.
"Gamzee! Did you remember your sheet? I did bring a blank, should you need it-" She almost babbles, and isn't quite sure if it's due to her own nerves or to settle the others. She smoothes her dark robes, pulls the heavy hood more solidly over her head. She spent far longer than she'd admit to any of them squirreled away with Kanaya, drawing up designs and drafting samples in order to create a silhouette that was mysterious and intimidating rather than over-sized and silly. It was a fine difference, they'd discovered. With her foot she nudges a heavy bag further under the table, and then sits again. "Thank you all for joining me tonight. Refreshments are being prepared and will arrive shortly. Do you have any questions before we begin?"]

 

[Dave is in the middle of lamenting the disappearance of his excellent character sheet and his inability to vandalize the laminated one ("Nooo, Roooose, you're stifling my creative vision!") when Gamzee makes his appearance.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he involuntarily sits up straighter, more alert. There are an awful lot of teeth in Gamzee's grin and he's rather tall, but Dave valiantly reaches for a cool smile to return the greeting. What he manages is somewhere between awkward and nervous, but it's a smile none the less. He makes the effort to go the extra mile and adds a "Sup, dude?"

To be perfectly honest, it had slipped Dave's mind that the ghost clown was playing with them. But Karkat has been vouching for the dude for a while and he's willing to do pretty much anything for his shouty date-friend-thing. Apparently including getting to know his scary not-a-boyfriend.

He directs his attention back to Rose immediately at the mention of snacks; distracted from his unease completely. "Wait, there's food? What's the food? Who delivers food to a rock in the middle of Paradox Space? Will there always be food?"]

 

[Terezi whips her head around towards Gamzee at his loud entry, and she lets her mouth hang open slightly as she takes in a deep breath of air through her nose, to better taste the subtleties of scent. He smells of slightly cloying grape syrup and a film of greasy ash-coloured paint, but not of death or danger, and most impressive (on Karkat's part, she's sure) not of dust, webs, or anything else one might expect to find in an air vent. She lets the air out again through her nose, and offers Gamzee her own bright grin. He may have her beat on number of teeth, but she can stretch her lips open wider. "Hello, fellow adventurer! I do hope your journey here hasn't been too onerous!"]

 

["Naw, my palebro helped me fill it all out, check it." He crosses the space between them in four big, hasty steps and thrusts it at her eagerly before settling in the chair across from Dave, full of nervous, jittery energy. His foot starts wiggling a moment after his butt hits the chair, and he folds his hands to keep them from fiddling with whatever's near. He sits smiling at Dave, and it's a strange sort of unreadable smile, as if even he's unsure if whether or not he should be making that face. "S'ALL GOOD, MY STARMONKEY. I am all kinds of excited to get all up in this playing roles shit with alla you."

His grin morphs into something a little more natural once he sets eyes on Terezi. "Nah, I'm savin' all my orneryness for clubbin' some sass-ass goblins and shit."

Gamzee then takes out his clubs and lines them up in front of him like they're silverware. They are very clean and smooth, save for a few score marks here and there.]

 

[Gamzee joins the awkward smile club with him, and Dave concludes that yeah, it's officially weird. Speaking of clubs, his high alert state is not helped by the appearance of real weaponry. Dave has a sword or three in his sylladex, under his bed, and stashed in various places around his usual hang out spots, who doesn't, but he doesn't intend on actually bringing any out and using them.

"Hey uh. Maybe some more... imaginary type clubs would be better for the imaginary sass-ass goblins and shit. I don't think real ones will have much of an effect on them."]

 

[Rose takes the sheet, a tad apprehensive, but the character seems rather solid. She does some light math in her head to make sure everything checks out, and her eyebrows shoot up. Thankfully this is concealed by her hood. "Thank you for placing your clubs on the table," she says absently, as she finishes looking it over. Then she blinks, and reads again. "I am impressed that you found a way to replicate your own appearance in the game. Well...done?" Rose returns the sheet. "As for food, yes there will always be food. The Mayor will be along later with supplies. Yes, before you ask, there will be corn chips and suitably green effervescent beverages to fit the gamer aesthetic."]

 

[The real weaponry is something Terezi had been told was unnecessary for this sort of role playing, so she's a little surprised that Rose is not bringing Gamzee to order about taking out his. Still, it's Rose's play-acting party and not hers, so it would be exceedingly impolite of her to scold him for it herself (that and it would be unlikely to have any positive outcomes). Instead she adjusts her dragon cape, settling the stuffed hood more comfortably on her head, and silently checks to make sure her cane sword is within easy reach in her strife deck. Just in case. "I do hope green isn't the only strong colour that will be present in our food! As tasty as I'm sure the effervescent beverages will be, the grassy pre-taste might get a tad boring."]

 

Gamzee isn't expecting praise at all. He relaxes a tad more. Okay. Good. He was doing good. "Heheh. I'M ALL LIKING THOSE TIEFLING MOTHERFUCKS." Gamzee's brows lift at Dave's remark, but he simply shrugs cooperatively and tucks the clubs back into his miracle modus. There is a brief flash of psychedelic colors as he fiddles with it, and then all is normal. "Out of mind. OUT OF SIGHT." His inner Karkat voice says 'no, idiot, that's not how the phrase goes', but Gamzee only grins a little and rests his chin in his palm. He snorts at Terezi's comment: "Yeeeah, don't I know that one, sister. THERE WAS DAYS WHEN ALL I EVER ATE WAS FUCKIN' GREEN."