| 149. Spy The Spy looked out over the small, decaying town. A gargoyle rested beneath his feet, glowering at the sunset. "What's he looking at," the stone beast wondered. It didn't matter, though. The shady man had come with a specific purpose that day: to infiltrate the abode of the tardy art critic. His mission had been passed on by the enraged forumites, all of whom had recently learned the critic was hiding secrets as well. With daggers tucked away and a scroll to use as a distraction, he waited solemnly. It hit the Spy after a couple of hours that he was afraid of heights. Why had he climbed all the way up on to the roof anyway? Well, he could take solace in the fact that he looked pretty cool while doing it. |
| 148. Gardens On the opposite side of the building in which the Spy had waited, the critic spent his evening relaxing in the Gardens and not writing art critiques. "What's the point," he murmured. "I'm just going to have to do it all over again when the new set comes out." He gazed at his surroundings, wondering what it was that made him rank the place so highly in his estimation initially. Perhaps he'd partaken of too many herbs from the multitude of unshaded plants around him. Or perhaps he'd merely liked the scenery, questionable layout be darned. He closed his Nintendo 3DS and wandered indoors, realizing he'd forgotten to complete an important chore.
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| 147. Treasury As he creaked open the door to the Treasury, the young critic was taken aback. He'd merely come to see if he'd been awarded more forum respect, but was surprised to see a money pool towering throughout the room. He dashed in to the room, frantically searching for some explanation. Suddenly, a man leapt out of the center of the pool and flipped three times in the air. "Making fun of my game's art, huh?" The man sent a raspberry in the critic's direction. "Well, take a look at my earnings from the Dominion: Gunpoweder lawsuit." The critic tried to warn his guest of the danger, but it was too late. He fell head first onto a block of coins, blacking out immediately.
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| 146. Venture
The critic dragged the injured game designer through the gates, past where the Spy had fallen asleep on watch, and toward a nearby palace. Into the throne room he Ventured, approaching the bored-looking ruler. The critic knelt. "Sire, please grant me some coin so that I may grant this poor man the finest of health care available in these lands," he begged. The king grinned, then pulled a string above his head. A terrifying hole opened beneath the two visitors, and down they fell.
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| 145. Band of Misfits
A pack of Misfits met the critic's eyes as he awoke groggily. His patient was nowhere to be seen, and he feared what these men might do to him. "We be the Misfits three," the grisliest one in the center cackled. "Dragged ye two out into the woods, we did. Ye'll make us a fine coin on the Black Market." Unfortunately for them, the critic had heard of these fools. He held aloft his trusty Scout card, and the Misfits shrieked in terror, their bones warping and melting to transform them in to the likeness of the poor guy. All they could do was count the Victory cards in their hands as the critic ran off into the distance.
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| 144. Forager
Soon enough, the critic collided with an old Forager, knocking her basket of apples on the ground. "Watch where you're running, boy," she roared with a hideous rasp. Seeing the boy's terrified face and bruises all over, she decided to lighten up a bit. "I'll tell you what. Give me a good ranking, say a good multiple of 12, and I'll let you have this apple." He agreed to the woman's request, happy to feel the thick texture of the fruit upon his tongue.
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| 143. Stash Suddenly, the mysterious game designer arrived at the scene, holding a big bag of cash that one might even call a Stash. "Just look, man, I'm rolling in it so deep I can afford to buy all of this lady's fruit." He made the purchase, then picked out a few rotten apples and hurled them at the critic. Flabbergasted, the critic asked why he'd been assaulted in such a rude manner. "That's for inserting me in your terrible self-insert fanfiction." Well, nobody could argue with that one. |
| 142. Workshop
Beaten and stinking, the critic returned home and decided to finish putting together some write-ups in the Workshop. He admired the detail of the room: a protractor, various saws, a hammer, and a fine ink quill. Something seemed a little off, though. In the corner of the room, he swore he saw a terrifying long-haired demon hanging on the wall. No, really, what is that, a wig? And how is this ranked so high? Nobody knows.
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| 141. Farmland After falling asleep in the Workshop, he dreamed of a strange farm made up of perfectly-formed rows of plants. The dedication that these Farmlands must have been plowed with was staggering, especially considering the lack of power tools. Truly, such a beauteous place could only exist in his slumber.
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| 140. Wharf "And then, I told them it had something to do with Blue Dogs!" The two men chuckled, enjoying their last moments of one another's company. Their meeting had gotten off to a rocky start, but truly the two had become pals over the course of their misadventure. Unfortunately, it was time for the grizzled game designer to leave this terrible place. As he began walking toward the ship in the Wharf, he turned back to his art critic to bestow one last word of wisdom. "Look, hear me out. I know some of the art isn't the best, and I know nobody agrees with any of your rankings. Even you don't all the time." The critic smirked. "But man, you can't just start something and then never finish it. You know what the difference is between guys like you and guys like me? At some point, we finished what we were doing." A lone tear began to fall down the critic's face at the man's words. "Now hurry up and finish this stupid thread so we can all go home!"
As he turned and left the Wharf, the critic took a moment to admire its beauty. A long path had been traveled since he first dissed the Candlestick Maker. The ship in the wharf looked majestic; the colors of the evening sky shone radiantly. With an image this lovely to gaze upon, and 139 more to go, he knew that only good things awaited him.
2 Cards suddenly thwacked the critic in the back of the head. He turned to see the ship departing, the designer waving at him. "For real! #174? What are you, blind? I'm out of here."
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