Kittehs

This morning in what for me counts as the wee hours (but was actually just 7:00), we schlepped Buddha and Dasher over to the vet, where they are going to be put under for heavy-duty dental cleaning, which they both sorely need -- doubly so for being FIV+.

Of course, it's worrisome and stressful to put lil' sweet-natured Buddha and big lovable oaf Dasher into carrying crates and leave them mowling piteously at a big, scary place full of strangers; but they've both been under anesthetic before and come out fine, and we'll pick them up tonight and take them home. So we don't foresee any problems really ... it just causes anxiety, 'cause, y'know, we love those guys. Hopefully each one having his adopted brother for company will bring them some comfort now that they've become accustomed to each other.

-The Gneech

A Few More Thoughts on Minions

Update to yesterday's post, here are some further thoughts...

Hit Points: I think I'll set this to a flat 1/level, no Con bonus, +5 for large, +10 for huge, +15 for gargantuan and larger. (The idea of a colossal minion messes with my head.) That would put yesterday's ogre at 13 hp.

Weapons: Instead of mucking around with weapon sizes, I'm thinking to make things easy minion damage will just max out at 1d10+Str modifier.

I'm also toying with the idea of building "monster role" classes (i.e., soldier, artillery, skirmisher), which would then turn "minion" into a template that would be added. This will take a little more thought. Details as events warrant.

-The Gneech

Fictionlet

"Roooger Ramjet, he's our man! Heeeee-ro of our nation!" sang Greg. "For his adventures just be sure to stay tuned to this sta-tion!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Brigid said. "Why, of all the things you could be singing, did you pick the theme song to a forty-year-old cartoon that frankly wasn't anything to write home about when it was new? What goes on in that brain of yours?"

Greg, frozen in place like somebody caught with his hand in the cookie jar, silently looked around, moving only his eyes back and forth in an exaggerated mode of alarm for several seconds. Finally, he sang, "Toooooom Slick! Toooooom Slick! Let! Me! Tell you why! He's the best of all the guys!"

"Oh for Pete's sake," said Brigid, heading for the door. "I'm getting out of here."

"There's no such word as 'I'm getting out of here' in automobile racing, Marigold!" Greg called after her.

"Shut up!" she replied, slamming the door behind her.

-The Gneech

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Fictionlet

Originally published at gneech.com. You can comment here or there.

“Roooger Ramjet, he’s our man! Heeeee-ro of our nation!” sang Greg. “For his adventures just be sure to stay tuned to this sta-tion!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Brigid said. “Why, of all the things you could be singing, did you pick the theme song to a forty-year-old cartoon that frankly wasn’t anything to write home about when it was new? What goes on in that brain of yours?”

Greg, frozen in place like somebody caught with his hand in the cookie jar, silently looked around, moving only his eyes back and forth in an exaggerated mode of alarm for several seconds. Finally, he sang, “Toooooom Slick! Toooooom Slick! Let! Me! Tell you why! He’s the best of all the guys!”

“Oh for Pete’s sake,” said Brigid, heading for the door. “I’m getting out of here.”

“There’s no such word as ‘I’m getting out of here’ in automobile racing, Marigold!” Greg called after her.

“Shut up!” she replied, slamming the door behind her.

-The Gneech

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Kittehs Update

B & D are back up from under, with teeth scrubbed and gingivitis removed. A few of Dasher's teeth were not salvageable, alas, and had to be removed, but as soon as the anesthetic wore off his eyes went POINK! open and he immediately inhaled a bowl of food, so he's no worse for wear. (They way he eats, teeth are sort of an afterthought anyway, what with only being used to chew and all.)

So we'll be picking them up on the way home from work. They're going to be on antibiotics for a few days, but life should quickly get back to normal, with the exception that hopefully Dasher's breath won't be able to wilt trucks any more. Fixing their teefs is the last legacy bit of health issues these guys came with that needed addressing, so hopefully we won't be shelling out any more big piles of money on them for a while.

-The Gneech

PS: I'm working in my mind on an anthropomorphic drawing of these guys ... with Buddha in a smoking jacket looking a bit like a fuzzy Sydney Greenstreet and Dasher in plaid shirt and cowboy hat like Jethro Clampett.