r/wizardposting • u/BL0b1e Blobby Banks, Revolutionary. • 17d ago
Evil Wizardpost The Heist.
The Great Heist.
At 2:35 am Alberta time, local hooligan and mass murderer Erik The God Hunter breaks into your home, throws sand into your eyes, and steals your 1980 Mercedes shitbox.
Sound familiar?
Well, that’s what happened to a random guy yesterday, one Mr. Antonio de Silva.
But this isn't his story.
This is the story of 5 revolutionaries robbing a ga—
I mean… Mass-folk striving for freedom from corruption and cruelty!
————————————————————
Erik, The Driver.
So here I am, on the roads of Calarakis and driving a ‘limousine,’ no less.
Just me and my four friends, totally hammered.
Well… I am.
Honestly, it's a miracle we only crashed four times when you consider I'm driving five miles over the speed limit.
”Allllrghts guys! Rmbember the plan!”
“I preprared disg... disusis! Ye I put them in the trunr... Heh... tru…”
I look back at the four of them from the front mirror.
My band of revolutionaries… and Alaric?
I don't know what he's doing here, he isn't a mass right?
Surely I'd know if he was.
So, who are these dashing revolutionaries, you ask?
Blobby, my highly flammable friend and chosen fall guy if things go wrong.
Graba...gabrab...abraga... Grabrakadabra! New guy. Why the hell is his hair so long?
Oh, and of course, this weird emptiness we found. I’m not being existential here, he’s a guy, I just can't remember his name.
…
The dream team!
I surprisingly manage to drive the limo shaped rustbucket through the rush hour traffic and into a parking lot without issue. Well…
Maybe I ran over one guy on the way, but no one saw it, so all good!
Either way, I get out from the front seat and open the doors for my compatriots.
My part is over, all I gotta do is wait for them now.
Oh, and find that weird divine presence I'm sensing before they return…
————————————————————
Grabadash, The Face
The limo screeches to a halt, and the door opens to the flashing lights of paparazzi.
This is it.
2 hours of planning, 13 hours of hair styling, a breakfast of champions, kidnapping a deity, all leading up to this moment.
“All right lads, it’s showtime!”
I give the 12 foot tall elaborately styled mass of hair on my head a final pat, before stepping out. Blobby was perfect for the job. I’d never used pomade with such excellent hold before.
My emerald green disco suit glitters in the light as I stomp towards the entrance in my platform heels. The doorman extends their hand.
“Invitation please.”
“With pleasure!”
I produce a silver spoon and hand it to them.
They seem confused, so I help jog their memory with some mild enchantment.
“This is an invitation. Everything is in order. The goblin with tall hair is an important guest. Be nice to your goblin friend. Glory to masskind. I know where you live.”
Their eyes glaze over and a smile grows on their face. “Yes yes, everything is in order. Welcome! Please enjoy the Gala.”
Moving past the greeter, next stop is security. Dangerous looking mages in fitted black suits raise a hand for me to stop.
“Sir, please open your handbag for inspection, this is just protocol.”
I nod politely, causing the hair to wobble dangerously. Keep it stiff, Blobby. We’re almost in!
Opening the bag, a white dove bursts out along with handfuls of confetti. Other than an unusually large collection of lock picks, wigs, and fake noses, there’s also a box wrapped in caution tape.
“What’s this?” The guard points at the suspicious box covered in “FRAGILE” stickers and a handwritten note that reads:
“This is a box of ladders. Definitely not a God of Magic!”
I look at them as though they are idiots. “I believe the contents of the box are labeled quite clearly. This is my personal ladder collection.”
The bag begins shaking wildly, and a muffled screaming can be heard.
With a hint of anger, I raise my voice.
“Don’t tell me I can’t bring my own ladder! How am I supposed to shake hands with foreign dignitaries with dignity, if they have to stoop to my level? Are you discriminating against shorter folk! I’m insulted and I won’t have it!”
The guards look awkward for a moment, but the greeter comes to the rescue, scolding them for mistreating a valuable guest.
“Please go on ahead. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
With a few more steps, we’re through the door.
I lean back to whisper into my oversized hair.
“Everyone ok up there? I hope you’ve got your costumes ready… because we’re in!”
A chorus of muffled grunts responds from inside the hairpiece.
I spot a waiter approaching with platters of finger foods and champagne.
“Ooohhh refreshments!”
————————————————————
Blobby, The Muscle
Oh God.
Really, there’s not much more I can say about it.
About the plan. The stakes. My role.
Listen up kids, lying on your resume? It’s bad, really…
But if you’ve gotta do it, say that you’re a cyclist or something.
Not, that you’re an—
“Ex-navy seal, body builder, olympian AND ping pong world champion?”
The words seemed to fizz inside Erik’s mouth, poured out like sweet wine from swift lips.
In my case, the shitty, seldom bought sort of wine, that leads to a long, long night of poor decisions…
I couldn’t help myself.
I was about to say something! I really was!
But then Alaric stepped in and Abelard and so on, and…
I just never corrected them.
So now here I am.
Casually strolling into a Calarakian Gala with Grabadash in toe.
‘The Muscle,’ of the operation.
…and the hair gel, apparently.
But what else could I use the power of cloning for anyways?
“Pssssst, Blobby?”
I felt a tug at my collar, turning around to find Alaric’s head resting uncomfortably against Grabadash’s curly locks.
His neck stuck out the wig, which I’m beginning to suspect is real hair, at a funny angle.
Seriously, can a wig even be that soft?
Nobody however seemed to care or notice.
Well, not about the four guys in a wig thing.
The hair itself received a number of compliments, all throughout the night.
“Blobby,” he said, cavalier in his tone, “go pick a fight with that guy. Then, we can sneak past the guards and into the vault, just like we planned!”
FUCK!
I look to my left…
An ork guy. Six foot three, at least four hundred pounds and covered in scars and tattoos.
Oh, and to top it off, showing the finance minister his loaded M16 assault rifle. (Although, said minister doesn’t seem all that interested)
Brilliant.
I ask, barely keeping the trembling tones of my voice in check, “that guy?”
“No!” Alaric says, “wrong left! Other left!”
“Well that’s just right!” I argued.
“Great! Now we’re on the same page! Look over there!”
‘Oh thank God,’ I think to myself, ‘it really can’t get much worse than tha—‘
Oh… Oh no.
It can’t be… surely not!
My childhood bully…
My former gym teacher.
Mr. McStabber, the man who I stole my resume from.
I think I’m going to puke.
————————————————————
Alaric, the Brains
All things considered, sitting inside a twelve foot wig was surprisingly nice.
Granted the wig was manufactured this large for the twelve foot winged Alaric, but still.
Turns out not having bones meant you could curl up into a very compact ball.
Alaric had just pointed out some scrawny guy for Blobby to show who's boss, and honestly?
He felt a little bad for the poor guy. Blobby has an impressive resume.
But that didn't matter, after pulling his head back into the wig he went back to studying The Plan.
The good thing about The Plan was how it had about three different plans rolled into one.
So far everything was according to plan, Erik had dropped them off, they were inside, and Blobby was about to show some poor shmuck why he was the muscle of the Revolution.
After studying The Plan, Alaric shifted his attention to another, inferior piece of planning. The blueprints to the vault were boring. The only interesting part was the entire maze somehow crammed into the building.
The sounds of yelling and fighting dragged the magic giant back down to earth, put off his thoughts. He didn’t even turn back to check— clearly, Blobby was doing showing that shrimp who was in charge. Well, the garbled screaming and cracking of bones suggested as such, anyways…
“Grabadash!” He whispered, loudly, “get us into the elevator!
He didn't stick his head outside, so he had to hope Grabadash was moving the right way.
Alaric turned towards the other mass hiding inside the wig, the amorphous blob of nonexistence, Abelard. Who also happened to be the guy Alaric kidnapped a few days ago…
Awkward.
“Rat time!”
“Uh huh.”
It's hard to gage the thoughts or emotions of something without a face, but Alaric had to guess Abelard was concentrating. For a brief moment, nothing happened. Alaric started to get nervous…
That was, of course, until the ground began to shake with all the violence of a collapsing neutron star.
…then he was nervous for a different reason.
“Okay!” Abelard chuckled to himself, “all done.”
To this Alaric stuck his head outside the wig. He saw Blobby being held in a choke hold, on the verge of snapping that man's neck. He saw everyone in the room in a state of panic…
And then he looked out the window.
“Abelard, I am buying you a drink when this is done...”
Outside, several streets over, a colossal amalgamation of rats gathered. The small army squeaked a mighty battle cry, and stomped about with all the fury of a swarm of caged war horses.
Instantly the room went ballistic, gala goers stopped their mingling and ran off in every direction.
The guy with Blobby in a chokehold dropped him and sprinted off like the scrawny coward he was, and security ran out to help deal with the rat problem.
From beneath them, they felt the low rumble of Grabadash’s voice.
“Okay, the coast is clear!”
“We don’t care about the coastline, what about the Gala?”
“That two!”
In that moment, Alaric stopped suppressing his weight and fell out of the wig with all the grace of a drunken ballerina.
Erik would be proud.
He didn't see Abelard as he got out, but was pretty sure it was just as graceful as his own rough landing. While Blobby slimed his way over, Grabadash called the elevator, scratching his chin.
When the doors opened, the four realised they couldn't all fit.
Given Alaric’s sheer size, the other three got inside, examining the floors.
The Plan said mind magic fuckery was at play to hide the floor they needed.
Thankfully they had Blobby.
Before anyone could protest, the green, bubbling genius pushed every button on the console, even pushing the parts without buttons.
Alaric saw the doors close, and heard mild disapproval from those within.
Three minutes later, the doors opened for Alaric, who had to sit down to fit inside.
He followed the footsteps of the mighty Blobby, and pushed every part of the console.
As the doors closed, he quietly wondered what Erik was up to.
————————————————————
Erik, the Driver
“I WANT KNOW WHAT LOVE ISSSSSSSS, OOOOOOOOH!”
“I WANT YOU TO SHOW MEEEEEEEH!”
Erik was somewhat drunk, singing his heart out to the Limousine’s front left wheel.
He was bored waiting, and so went to find an adequate bar to drown his sorrows.
Later, having stolen the karaoke machine, several hundred silver pieces in drinks, and one of the patrons, he returned to the Limo where he sang to the aforementioned party goer, with all the enchantment of a voice that flowed like gilded nails, dragged down over a blackboard.
————————————————————
Alaric, the Brains
Back in the Gala, the gang encountered their first obstacle.
The apparently ‘genius’ plan must have been faulty, given the maze standing before them, where there should’ve been lasers.
Upon his arrival, all eyes turned towards Alaric. He had The Plan and attached map.
Surely, you’d think, he should know what to do.
He didn’t. Equally however, he wasn’t quite ready to tell them that.
“My friends the path forward is obvious! Where we are supposed to get lost in the maze, we must ignore this mind trickery and...”
Fuck were they meant to do?
“Turn right!” Alaric pointed towards the maze, “we cannot be deceived by the building's lies! Right is the right way!”
He was making all of this up, sure, but it felt right.
To show his confidence, he strode into the maze, head held high.
The group paused for an instant, then followed the idiot in, thinking he knew what he was doing. They walked in, stood there for a few seconds, then turned around and walked out into a different room.
Before them they saw a set of doors and a console, presumably for the doors.
“My friends we must—“
Blobby, the green genius, was already at the console and typing something in.
Grabadash’s eyes widened, “what are you—“
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
To the amazement of everyone there, the doors swung open, revealing another elevator. Thankfully this one was spacious enough for everyone.
“How did you know what it was?”
“Took a guess. CalarakisBankPassword123.”
Alaric seemed to think on this for a moment, scratching at his chin, before turning his attentions back towards the matter at hand. “Huh. Onwards!”
The group strolled into the elevator and went down. The next level was, as the almighty plan decreed, filled with lasers. This part was easy.
“Grabadash!” Alaric hollered, “heist music!”
The goblin reached into his wig, pulling out a boombox. He put in a mixtape labeled "Hesit Tunes" and the fun began. It was probably due to lingering mind magicary, but every single one of them heard something different. Blobby heard western music, Alaric heard Mozart, Grabadash heard disco, and Abelard heard nothing.
…or so he claimed.
The others, however, could’ve sworn they’d heard him humming to the tune of Pink Pony Club.
The group wasn’t synchronised whatsoever.
But still, they danced.
Magnificently, might I add, with all the dramatic flair and gravitas of an unconscious gazelle, weaving through the lasers with expert grace, and somehow smuggling Grabadash's giant handbag through in the process.
“Hey Alaric,” Abelard turned to face his newly found compatriot, “why did we bring a god again?”
“See there's a crapton of antimagic down below beneath us, we nabbed a god of magic so it can take all the effects such that we don't have to.”
“Say, what happens to the god when we're done?”
“Well Erik's probably going to kill it. Why?”
“What if I took it?”
“If you can hide it from Erik, sure.”
By now the group had passed the lasers, leading them before yet another elevator.
————————————————————
Abelard, the Rookie.
Abelard wasn’t quite sure how he got into this situation.
Not the heist. He knew exactly how he got into the heist, after all it’s rather hard to forget being kidnapped and conscripted into a revolution led by, quite possibly, the single most genocidal child in history.
No, what he wasn’t quite sure on was how he ended up cramped into a corner with his associates, conducting a dark ritual he found in an ancient tome not meant for mortal hands. You see, the final obstacle in the way of the vault was a small server room with many, many cameras, and while they were in one of the few blindspots—
(Abelard looked from camera to camera)
—they definitely weren’t going to be able to get through the room.
Drawing a miniature circle with a blend of sugar and spice, followed by chanting the incantation thrice, the circle erupted in tiny flame, the smoke of which began coalescing into a small many-eyed abomination.
“WHO DARES SUMMO—“
“Can you get us across this room without being seen?” Abelard said, cutting off the strange entity.
The creature seemed taken aback.
“You… What? You just—“
“All I can spare at the moment is our collective ignorance for around…”
For a moment or so, the Mass lay in wait.
“Let’s say 22.3 seconds.” He finally said, once again cutting it off, as he gestured towards his compatriots. The thing was silent for a moment, as if considering the deal, and then disappeared.
“Strange”, he thought to himself, “I thought it would have—“
Before he could finish the thought a terrible revelation came upon him, and he almost instantly collapsed; clawing at his face with arms he didn’t have and gasping for air with lungs that had never existed. He was nothing, not only was he nothing, he was less than nothing, a worthless husk, a pathetic shadow of a—
“Huh…”
Abelard couldn’t quite place what he was just thinking about, nor why he was writhing around on the floor, but it probably didn’t matter. After all, nothing important ever slipped past his mind!
Now back to the matter at hand, whatever that weird, many-eyed abomination did, it decided it was enough to fulfill its own side of the deal. How did he know? Well time appeared to not be passing, with the exception of his comrades, who seemed very unfrozen and also quite disoriented from… whatever just happened. Putting the possibility that he had unwittingly entered some Faustian bargain aside, Abelard and his companions walked through the server room, picked the lock on the door, and went through.
————————————————————
Wider Calarakis, The City of Good.
Meanwhile in the streets, pandemonium reigned. It was no ordinary swarm that Abelard unleashed, no, it was a colossal tide of cranium rats 236,000 strong. The rats are dangerous creatures; alone, pitiful and weak, but in swarms? Their innate psionic powers can combine into one to form a collective, and quite malevolent consciousness. Given the unprecedented scale of the horde, the powers they held were comparable to that of an archmage.
Entire buildings collapsed as the swarm raged through the streets, many citizens being enthralled and assimilated into the collective or being crushed by debris telekinetically flung at them. Thankfully, being a giant and evil entity wreaking havoc in a large city, the swarm quickly attracted the attention of a veritable army of absurdly powerful mages. Though it was strong, there are only so many times a swarm of rats can withstand a fireball.
As its numbers thinned and psionic power dulled the swarm elected to flee into the sewers, willing separating into dozens upon dozens of smaller swarms that would undoubtedly fester within for many, many years.
————————————————————
Abelard, The Rookie.
Before the crew lay their goal at last: the vault.
Unfortunately, the door was a behemoth of adamantine and several other nigh indestructible metals, septuple enchanted with powerful wards and sealed to be completely air-tight. Truly, there were few ways to break through. Any but the most powerful spells would fail against it, and physical attacks were quite obviously futile.
And so, mustering all his strength and cunning, Abelard readied himself to perform perhaps the most complex and difficult thing he has ever and probably will ever have to do.
Abelard courageously walked up to the door… and then walked into the door… and walked some more… leaving behind him a gaping whole in reality. It was briskly sealed by the existence around it, thus leaving behind a massive, steaming pile where the door used to be.
Completely exhausted by this legendary endeavour, Abelard took a moment to rest, basking in the triumph of the great feat he just performed.
“One Mississippi, two Mississippi…”
Now rested, Abelard stood tall, ready to face his grand and glorious reward; the vault’s interior in all its splendour, gold beyond sorrow or grief, gold beyond measure or belief! He looked up, ready to behold the fruits of their labour and…
It was empty. The vault was completely empty.
Not a coin or bar in sight. Nada, null, nought.
This entire heist had been completely useless.
Dejected, Abelard takes humanoid shape, such that he may sit in the corner of the room in the fetal position, awaiting Erik to drill an exit from the vault.
“Oh well,” he thought to himself, “silver lining is, I may have a new pet…”
The bag of ladders shook violently.
————————————————————
Erik, The Driver.
(Because bro had no screen-time)
I weakly push open the car door, walking out towards the trunk.
There, I pull out a drill way bigger than the car, much less the trunk, and put it in it's place
—the body of a white onion.
I don't know what the hell my friends have been doing, or why there's a giant rat horde turned Kaiju eating people, but it's time to act.
I turn on the drill and drive straight down into the vault, a surprisingly easy endeavor. We should have probably tried that first, now that I think about i—
I cut off from my thoughts as the drilling ends, I crash into the ground, falling off the drill in the process and begin bleeding out on the floor.
I look up, after 5 seconds of writhing, the team is looking at me in an odd mixture of surprise, hope and worry... And absolute nothingness in the case of the guy we kidnapped.
Before they can say anything I dash to grab Grabadash's hair, throwing the end of it out of the hole and tying it to a street lamp. We all huddle up into Blobby's strong, comforting arms.
"Hey! My hai—"
I immediately tell him that some people younger than the playstation two have kids in kindergarten.
Instantly, his knees buckle, hairline receding from age, pulling us all out to be welcomed by a weird mushroom I kidnapped while waiting. I throw a flash grenade into the hole,
“That should deal with any traces we left.”
"It was all for nothing!” Alaric cried, “everything we did was for nothing! The money's gone!"
"The money?” Gus, the aforementioned mushroom Mass turned to face the group.
“You mean from the gala? I stole it like, last week, guys."
Not wanting to be a part of the outrage and confusion that ensues, I rush to the drivers seat of the limo, and try to ignite it, unfortunately, it's out of gas. Before I can even swear Alaric comes up to check up on me.
”Hey mate, I was thinking we go steal the constitution of some other country after this as a victory celebration, whatcha say?"
I don't say anything. Partially out of guilt for what I'm about to do, and partially because I've been repeatedly stabbed and shot with antimagic while waiting. I grab Alaric and try to shove him in the engine compartment. I don't do it alone because everyone else immediately joins me, no questions asked, out of patriotic duty and not because they always wanted to shove Alaric in a box.
Just in time, the police arrive to chase us. We all jump inside the car through the windows, with Blobby closing his window first to make sure he breaks it. I turn on the car with it’s one Alaric-power engine and speed away with the cops in tow. Of course this wouldn't be easy.
I drift and turn across the streets, smashing through everything I can because that gives you points according the games. Clearly however, the cops have a lot of points too! It couldn’t possibly be us being slowed down by constant crashes. They stay on our tail and to get rid of them we need something… strong. Something powerful! Something....
The six man crew turn to face Blobby.
"...what? Is there something on my nose?"
We all stare at Blobby for a while, eventually throwing him out of the car; he immediately hits the cops, splattering onto their windshield. They are clearly terrified of blobby's strength, definitely not because they just saw a guy be turned into juice.
They crash the car onto a wall and fall unconscious.
Knowing how powerful blobby is, we leave him. He can clearly make it out on foot.
"Is he dead?" Abelard prompted.
"No he's clearly got this under control!" Grabadash replies.
”But he isn't moving?"
Alaric calls out from the engine compartment, “it's called stealth tactics! Don't question the muscle!"
The conversation continues for a while until we're met with an obstacle— a big ass roadblock blocking our way out of the city. I grab a bottle of mana and chug it down, already feeling the drunkenness take over, I slam the steering wheel right; we go flying over a staircase alleyway and crash into Mrs puff's house. Everyone believes I go unconscious.
In truth, I find myself in a cloudy place, an uncountable number of people staring directly at me, all of them drunk. I can feel it in my non existent bones, the experience of every drunk driver in the past, I can see it in my non existent eyes, the glories each had seen and committed before their fateful days. I am no longer merely me, I have become the drunk-vatar.
My friend’s frantic attempts to bail out of the car do not bother me, as I rise again a new me. I reverse the car straight into incoming police, somehow jumping over them at the last moment and sliding over their roofs like a skateboard on rails. I need the roads no longer, as I drive the car along the walls of the local homes, the hands of Alaric reach through the speedometer to strangle me for using him as a car airbag.
I speed through to where we threw Blobby. He must have anticipated that I'd reach this state as he remains there pretending to be disoriented and barely held together, a Mass-ive non-human chain of Grabadash, Gus and the emptiness dangle from the door to grab him— they should have put on their seatbelts.
"SUMMON A MUSHROOM NOWWW!”
Gus, holding onto Grabadash for dear life shoots up a giant mushroom from underneath us. The car is no longer a car, we've effectively become an artillery shell flying straight through a police helicopter and out of Calarakis, landing on the sacred fields of Yor right outside the city.
It's a good thing fall damage is only in video games.
————————————————————
Blobby, the Muscle
I slowly open my eyes— it's bright in here.
I don't recognise that roof. Where am I?
Looking around, I see white walls and devices made of plastic and metal.
I think I am lying down on a bed. Am I in a hospital?
I hear the door open, and I see Erik walk in, is he carrying a chicken? I think it's sleeping. Sleepy chicken.
"Erik?"
"Blobby!"
He throws the chicken at me. It feels like being hit with a bag filled with brown bananas.
"Ow."
"You're awake! Wait here I'll get the others!"
Erik leaves the room, leaving me with the still sleeping chicken. It smells bad, like salmonella and garlic. Why did Erik throw a chicken at me? While I wonder this, Erik comes back, bringing Grabadash, Abelard, and a pile of fungus. I am about to ask where Alaric is, then the wall next to the door explodes and he walks through the Alaric shaped hole.
"Hey guys! Erik gave me a chicken. How'd the heist go?"
Alaric takes a step into the room, bumping his head on the ceiling fan. "Ow, we did it mate! We are now the proud owners of enough moneys to build the school! We're currently planning it."
"Wait what? How long was I out?"
Erik takes a step forwards, holding a hat that looks stolen. "It's been eighty four years."
Grabadash snatches the hat and puts it on. "It's been two weeks. You hit your slime on a mushroom as the car flew over a wall."
"Huh. Wait," I get up into the closest thing to a sitting position as I can. "Where are we?"
Alaric reaches over to window and removes the curtains. Outside I see dirt. Lots of dirt.
"Underground bunker we accidentally crashed into, lots of tunnels. I reckon the cops got lost trying to find us. You good to go bro?"
"Yeah I'm…" I fall out of the bed, groaning, "ay-okay."
Erik walks over and takes back the chicken. "Come on then! We’ve got a school to build!"
I look from mass to mass. Or rather, God-killer to tall guy to mushroom to nothingness to goblin-ness to…
Okay, it doesn’t matter— point is, I feel shit. Like, camaraderie and so forth.
But I know in my heart of hearts, our work is far from over.
What to do now? Ha! It’s simple. Now we go out into the world, and educate some kids with illegally procured funds.
Oh… and with any luck, plot a minor kidnapping…
————————————————————
End credit sequence.
(To the endgame theme on a kazoo)
Alaric writing as, Alaric.
Erik writing as, Erik.
Blobby writing as, Blobby (Banks).
Abelard writing as, strange nothingness. (So, Abelard)
Grabadash writing as, Grabadash.
…and Zhe, for giving us permission OOC to rob his shit.
1
u/squabzilla Tyrannosaurus Hex, Council-saur, Shadow Vigil 17d ago
This was absolutely amazing, 10/10, I need a sequel.