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Creativity is the lifeblood of man, for good and for ill, and there are few things more potently declared within that lifeblood than the design of devious devices and dastardly weapons that seems to be something endemic to the human condition. In the end, when we are long gone, even a casual brush against the annuls of history would be enough to tell an alien observer of how a newly invented weapon or application thereof had time and again been the major catalyst for change in the world. Arrows, bullets, bombs, but perhaps the most overlooked of these weapons and by far the most powerful in the course of human events have been words themselves.

Written or spoken, a single word in the right place and the right time is all it takes to wield a score or more of weapons without ever raising a finger. To wield a word is to wield influence, and the tides of blood that rise and fall as a result often discredit the words that brought it all to bear.

Fortunately, today words had proved the champion over firepower. It’s a good thing, as well, as you had precious little of the latter with which to go up against the hoard of robotic adversaries, a sizeable force who after two centuries still called the DHS of the post-apocalyptic Seattle their home. In response to an impassioned plea that you made to their commander, a SARA much like you who had been conscripted into the Enclave’s service and then been left in the dark with regards to their activity, you managed to buy yourself a window to resolve things diplomatically.

And as your descent only seems to take you deeper into the hornet’s nest, turrets and automated security making themselves known on the opposite side of a heavily armored elevator, you hope you can buy the support you need to turn the raider threat.

“We’ll stop here,” the DHS-SARA confirms as her DAVID steps into a clean room that seems to have been designed almost exclusively for such talks, perhaps vetting new entrants… or captives to the Enclave forces.

The room is stark and metallic, a single table and a sparse few chairs set around a light source suspended from above. One might find the scene almost comical, then, as two robots the size of children and a floating ball took their seats for serious discussion.

“So, what do you want?” she demands in a flat tone, not aggressive, but certainly apprehensive as you make to argue your case.

> What to do…

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Just be glad the Major doesn't know the recipe for The Cloud... or any other secrets from Big MT, actually. They'd all be pretty dangerous in the wild.
Thanks for writing, as always! Have a good night, see you next time.
Thanks for the thread senpai. When will the next one be?
Honestly, there are certain gases that break down and become safe after a few weeks. Major is right in that it’s sometimes better than minefields.

Give me a day or two, and we'll see. Until then, watch the Twitter.

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So, you wish to hear the tale of a tribe that lived and prospered before our time, during the ancient age of birth.
Come closer, traveler. It is said that old stories remain woven into the stars. My cards will illustrate them to you.
Of what race would you like to know the story, and where was their tribe founded?

>This Civ will be slightly different than the other ones. Expect less resource management, and a greater focus on the tribe's most glorious deeds.
>All rolls are 1d22, unless specified otherwise. The reason for that will soon be revealed.
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The King Over The Mountain, Slayer of Trolls, reunites his tribe after the battle. 5 Giants lay dead. Many more are wounded, but they rest easy knowing that the High Stones are victorious.

The following days are spent tending to the tribe's wounds. If nothing is done to help them, there is a possibility for the wounded to perish too. The Giants have no proper knowledge of medicine, after all.

The ones still capable of work are sent out into the wilderness, to hunt for resources. They spy at the fearsome mammooths, wild and still untamed. The Giants know that goats can be eaten, for they have done so more than once. Perhaps it will be the same with these tusked beasts.
Surrounding one of the animals and striking together proved a fruitful tactic, as the mammooth fighted fruitlessly against its agressors. Soon after, it died from blood loss.
It is brought back the same day. Many resources are to be had from it. Food, pelt, bones.

Finally, one day singing is heard from the Strange Midget's cave. King Jagul decides to investigate immediately. An alien warmth radiates from the Midget's home. Crouching down to peer inside of it, Jagul spies something at its centre... A bundle of wood topped by what seems to be a small, shifting sun. It casts light and heat upon the walls of the cave. Close by stands the midget... A woman, draped in a dress of golden grass. She sings a gentle melody, one that soothes the mind and soul...

GIANTS: The High Stones
Nomad Tribe
>Population: 13 Giants

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Rolled 14 (1d22)

Settle down, find a nice cave or a cavern or anywhere with natural defense.

Curiously and peacefully, who is she, why is she here and what that mouth do.

Those who are lords or really loved are buried in a Pyer, the rest are buried in the forest.
Rolled 14 (1d22)

We have won the battle we shall have the spoils. Settle the tribe in the old village of the feral giants.
Or if they didn't have a village settle the tribe near the forest, preferably a river.

Approach the creature peacefully and curiously.

The dead are burned in a pyre on a hill. They will find their way to the heavens, to join hirophant, through the smoke
Rolled 20 (1d22)

>peace and curiosity
>burials (we don't even have fire yet)

Isn't there an OP image with better quality? It's barely readable.

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I am Avari, a scavenger in the depths of space. Right now my ship is drifting past a cluster of Kirri hiveships in silent mode.

I am in hostile space, outnumbered, and a cosmic horror is swomming through the nebula towards anything that gives off signals.

The Lost Fleet of the Salvage King lies ahead. A group of legendary derelicts.

I drift towards them, anxious, hoping... Perhaps I won't be another spacer that meets their end.

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>Pick command (Systems Diagnostic)
Second task of finding User History if possible
>>Pick command (user history)
There's a story here and I want to hear it.
I select the systems diagnostic.

Pyresian Star Diagnostics.
>Non-Pyresian DNA detected on user. Cease activity and head to medbay immediately for cleansing, Continued use will cause this computer to lock out the user.

-All systems are in running order.

- Medical
- Life Support
- Internal lighting
- Main Reactor
- Solar Core

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>>get the hell out of this place.
There's got to be other ports we can use that aren't haunted with spooky spooky space ghosts.

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Previous: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1889574/
Char sheet: https://pastebin.com/rV2HHCtZ
Other char sheets: https://pastebin.com/nzqmmqm3
User Manual: http://pastebin.com/PW5wkSv7
So, I'm guessing I'm pretty much stuck here in Da'ta along with everyone else who was playing the game before....whatever happened happened. Guess there's worse places to be, at least I know what to expect from it even if most of what I can expect from it is kind of shitty. But at least I'm not blind or a complete stranger to this setting. Now I might be being a defeatist here but unlike some of those dumbass who haven't even tried to enjoy themselves with their new powers since this has happened, I am pretty damn sure this is all real and while that is pretty terrifying, you being stuck in a world were something like the taint is hanging around, but hey! I have magic so that's something positive at least right? Hell I'd argue that is well worth the risk of turning into a horrible monster cause I forget to brush my teeth or some shit!

Smiling wider, I lean forward and pull my knees closer to my chest as I look out on the littler valley sitting around my "master"s tower. Butterflies, birds and those weird flying snakes that nest around this area fill the pale blue sky, as the clouds swirl around the towers top. Its all really beautiful now that its real....I will admit I didn't spend much time actually looking at the world I was wrecking but this is, really a calming sight I think. Really I'm not sure why me and Black and the weeb I to I guess are the only ones who aren't being little bitches too scared to walk down a flight of stairs cause we might break our necks. Like come on! we're in a hole new world and you've all be hiding in the tavern since we got here a day or two ago....can't remember how long I slept last night to be honest, and since I dreamed I'm pretty sure this isn't one unless this is some inception bullshit.

Besides all the former NPCs are far to real for this to be....well just a glitch like some retards have been trying to convince the other newbie idiots of. At least the Alchemist knows what's up, even if he's still hiding in that cupboard like a bitch but that's what he gets for making a weak character like that! Should've known something like this would've happened!

Chuckling at my own internal sarcasm I slowly stand up, my tail still feeling weird behind me as I stretch out my back and grin. Well if I've been given a new life as Belua Pangolynn, fighting mage extraordinaire! I might as well live it to the fullest, cause I have magic and a body that's both awesome and easy on the eyes unlike my last character. Hell I didn't even change my looks much in the swap over to Da'ta! I mean sure I look pretty different from my old body, being a beast kin and all but that's an upgrade! I have natural armor!

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Or it could be we gathered the militia again, though we really need a doctor or an alchemist who's not the elf.

So why did the guy make an elf alchemist? I don't think magic points is really needed for it.
Higher learning

And I do have plans for a knight, not saying which of them though.

I don't think Thas would get along with Belua/Sadie well
That would have been useful a few days ago. Shame he didn't get to send himself better items. Really would have made it worthwhile to pk him.

Yeah, but that's pretty much all of the players who are not stuck behind the wall.
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Drawfriend says hello!
Oooh didn't see this, nice

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New Avalon Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=New%20Avalon
Colors' Sheet: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1gq9ZEFrwnYjQpSeuMg1a_7UepedMrQUSEwbrHWntFCo/edit?usp=sharing
Previous Thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1934680/

You are Colors Eriksdotter, Warlock Knight of the Spring Court. Shut out from the society of your peers, you managed to find friends with a group of other outcasts.

Damn, this was cliche when you were a kid, thirty-plus fuckin' years ago. All the time distortion between here and the Fairest of Lands and it still couldn't deliver you to a future where this doesn't have to be your life.

Hell, at least you actually like these folks.

"Waiting it out might be best," you agree, feeling your way through it. "It'll give us time to get in some habits, decide if we want to do this or not. Keeping in touch regularly, consulting with one another..." your eyes slide to Vickie. "Asking for help."

"Look at the Queen of Subtlety over here," the Darkling drawls.

"My patron goddess favors a chariot drawn by magic cats and wears a necklace so beautiful that it rivals herself. 'Subtle' is for other religions."

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Who or what is that pic?
Happy birthday Vox. Enjoy yourself, or at the very least do not allow the world to ruin your day.

Also, super-dooper cute birbs always make me feel better.

Nude dancing Flamesiren Fairest with tattoos?
I had a penchant for drawing bejeweled sorceress warriors for a while.
Called, tallying, writing new thread


>Be an Elf
>Be over five hundred years old
>Don't give a shit anymore.

Some human villagers come running up to you on the trail screaming about their village being on fire from Orks, or some shit. What do you do?

A, Tell them to fuck off.

B, Go and help them tell the Orks to fuck off.

C, Summon some water horses to destroy the village.

D, Ignore them and continue to smoke your pipe, maybe they'll leave.
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There's a bit of elf stuck to the bottom of the Dragon's foot!
Thus ends Elf and Dragon Quest.
But he got dubs
Lets find some Kobolds!
Transform into an elf.

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"But she can't stop us." You boast, feeling your saw mold into your hand and emerge from your flesh just behind your knuckles. The silk like glove that has always been used to catch your saw disapears for the first time, now making intricate and elegant wrist high lavender guards, upon which sits two thrumming cylinders.

As you force your back against Lexington's and cover Honamurei as she cuts through a pair of the monsters. You wonder what comes out of of the two... barrels? strapped to your wrist even as you make sure that nothing you may be tempted to use them on appears from the inky darkness that swirls around the dome of light.

Once each of the bug like creatures is definitively cut to ribbons Honamurei joins you once more, falling in step behind Lex and facing the rear while you forge ahead. The old Starborn is as protected as possible whilst maintaining the barrier that stands as a bulwark, the two sides look rather bare to you; though this is a manpower problem that your combined power will hopefully nullify.

With the three of you in position, Lex speaks up, "Some kind a trade road. Probably got a market that way and a craftsmen's bloc West. No idea anythin' beyond that. Plus I'm just assumin' this works like the bigger cities."

> Hona you choose

> North through the Market

> West Through The Craft Bloc

> East, back the way I came

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> [WORRY] Are your men going to be okay waiting on reinforcements?

Spitting in the wind.
> [CRUELTY] I just want to kill the cannibals
Reminder: I'm starting work in an hour.

So next post will be tomorrow hopefully. If not Friday.
Thats ok
I was getting worred that you droped this.
Also are we going to kill the moon dbz way or thr trigun way?
I'm super tired. Will try to get an update out before I see Reel Big Fish tomorrow.

Not sure I will, hope you guys...

Enjoyed doesn't seem the right word.

Appreciated Mido thus far.

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Previous threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=sburb%20quest


You are still TB(toasterBoaster), though your real name is TOTALITARIAN BUTTHEA- wait, fuck.
No, your name is TOM BRANCH. You have recently entered the MEDIUM. And according to SUNGLASSESSPRITE, your in "The Land of Battle and Metal".
Then he kind of just fucked of to someplace. Not gonna lie, that made you mad. The one guy who seemed to know a thing or two about all this stuff just fucking vanished.

But it's cool, you're sure you can figure this out yourself. And CL is writing up something of a guide, so even if you do have problems, you can always check that.
Though you don't think he's even left his house yet, so it's questionable as to whether or not he would be of much help at this stage of the game.
Actually, it's pretty annoying. After helping you enter the game, he pretty much immediately started grilling you for info. Like, you get wanting to write a comprehensive guide and shit, but some of his questions seemed kinda pointless.
"What's your land like?", "What did your entry item taste like?", "Can you be more specific than "spicy" please?". And shit like that.
Well whatever, seems like he has moved on to talking to the others for now, so you can do whatever!

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I would like to let you all know that my grasp of how time works in Homestuck is a bit lacking. So if anything involving time is just blatantly wrong in the quest, that is probably why.


Your name is LESLIE JONES. You are currently in the STARBUCKS. It is your shift, and you are standing behind the counter, awaiting your customers orders.
...Been kinda a slow day though.
...Like, REALLY slow. You don't think you've even seen any of your coworkers since you showed up. Granted, your memory of that time is a little hazy, because you had yet to have any COFFEE. You are not what you would call a NIGHT OWL or anything, but early morning isn't exactly your preferred time of day. And by early morning, you mean like 12:30 PM to 2:00 PM. Hmm... maybe you ARE a night owl...
Now that you got here, had a cup of coffee, and have been working for a bit, you suddenly realize that nobody has asked you for... anything? You have yet to get a single order...

...Oh. And now that you're paying attention, you've noticed that a variety of things have fallen to the floor. This is probably on account of the fact that the store seems to be shaking just a bit...

...You don't actually know what to do in an earthquake? Aside from standing under a door frame that is.
After going to a door, you whip out your phone and turn it on.

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>Continue being yourself
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You are still yourself. Yippie?

You are still in the coffee shop.
Oh? Pesterchum is chiming.

RM: Looks like you made it in. Alright, well i've got things to do, so... bye!
DD: Wait...
DD: You still haven't explained how you got me into the game, but you're also right here...
RM: Don't know, don't care. That douchebag is some kinda imposter.
DD: He says it's something involving time travel...?
RM: Time travel isn't real numbnuts.
RM: As I was saying, I gotta go.
RM: Wait.
RM: Now that I think about it, you need to be my server player.

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Yesss, be the radio girl, it is time for that.
>Be FM
Be fm~

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In the grim darkness of the 41st millennium there is only war. Imperium of Man, once strong and proud, now is slowly crumbling, whole regions of space are lost to the horrors that lurk in the darkness of the void. Sector Deus is just one of the thousands of Imperial provinces that form the front line in the war to defend Humanity itself. Corruption from within and aggression from without threaten it. But the Emperor sends us hope. High Lords of Terra commissioned a Chapter of Adeptus Astartes, finest warriors Humanity has ever seen, to defend this region of space. They are the last line of defence that hold Age of Ruin at bay. They are the Ghosts of Retribution and this is their tale.


Chapter Chronicles and starting point for the novice initiates:

Datalogs from the previous thread:

Battle voxcaster frequency, all allies are welcome to join:

+Metal must burn and melt, before it can be reforged into a weapon.+
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Rolled 35, 23, 13, 55 = 126 (4d100)

It's a very brief, straightforward battle so I'm not going to make a detailed map.

On the pirates' first turn, they fly straight towards Gladius Squadron Alpha, bringing them 12vu on the Gladius' Squadrons starboard side, and firing their full frontal armament.

Siluria: Str2 weapons battery
Falchion: Str3 weapons battery
Firestorm: Str2 weapons battery and Str1 Lance

Firing at a squadron of escorts abeam, with a left shift on the table for being within 15vu, afford them 3 weapons battery hits and 1 lance hit.

4d100, the first three requiring 66+ and the last requiring 51+ (lance).

Sprocket's roll for enemy fire >>1974405

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Rolled 3 (1d100)

Rolling to see if the gladius squadron can warp out on their first turn. 25 or less required.
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Congratulations on lucky rolls! However please remember that ships have separate warp drives and two separate rolls are required. Shadow has managed to successfully translate from the system, but Lurker is still there (roll for it as well, less than 25 required).

If Lurker doesn't leave, please continue with the battle.

Also please in the future state required rolls first, then roll.

Squadroned ships operate on squadron-wide roll in BFG.

And rules as posted >>1971491
say nothing about individual ship rolls for disengagement?

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Long ago, there was a great Empire that once ruled the entire galaxy. By the use of their might, they conquered every star, every planet, and every species under their flag. While their reign was despotic, and much hated, the Empire kept stability under the iron grip of fear. Any who went against the Empire would be wiped out and forgotten, so none dared to cross them…

That was, until the Empire mysteriously fell at their prime, ushering a dark age that spread to all.

Five centuries later, and where despotic order once reigned supreme, now sheer chaos runs amok in the stars. Despite the hundreds of years of warfare and desolation, four great powers managed to climb to to top, each of which are competing for the succession of the empire’s legacy of absolute supremacy. However, what goes on under the light of the stars is not all that exists in the galaxy, for there are many who hide in the interstellar void.

Yet, you, the hero, know nothing of this. Much like a fish out of temporal waters, you are lost in a sea of the unknown.

It all started on a Saturday night.

Your name was Kevin Jones, and much like the typical NEET that you were, you lazed about on your rolling chair, staring blankly at the screen in front of you. You must have been sitting there for hours, but you didn’t care. There was someone on /x/ who was an obvious larping faggot, and you were bound and determined to put them in their place.

Furiously you typed with your fat, pudgy fingers -

>Please, you’re a fucking larper. You say that you’re some mythical being that can manipulate space-time, yet you call ME a faggot? Dude, your entire thread was a fucking roleplay to begin with, and a subpar one at that. Stop being a schizo and take your fucking meds already.


There was no response.

Assured that you had sufficiently btfo’d the larper, you went to close the tab and call it a day - only for the dying thread to be bumped by a cryptic response.

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>Vish: Intelligent bird aliens. Were once slavers that spanned a quarter of the galaxy until they were put in their place by the Empire. Polytheistic theocracy, based off of a religion that states constant conquest is “peace”
>Sy’tari: Human faction, descended from one of the last exosolar colonies of the ancient terran country, “Ame’lita”. Former slaves/vassals of Vish. Monotheistic theocracy, based off of the Vish god of death and chaos, Vit’na.
>Wukat: Star aliens, body composition is plasma. They can’t survive off of a star, Inserted consciousness inside organic bodies to explore before shifting back to a plasma form on a star.. Tend to be isolationist.
>Terrans: Home to Terra Prime of the Sol System, the home of the human species. It is also where the Empire rose from. The terrans ruled for 500 years, but they fell in their prime and are now much reduced in power.
>>Terrans: Home to Terra Prime of the Sol System, the home of the human species. It is also where the Empire rose from. The terrans ruled for 500 years, but they fell in their prime and are now much reduced in power.
Earth Pride, Galaxy Wide!
>Terrans: Home to Terra Prime of the Sol System, the home of the human species. It is also where the Empire rose from. The terrans ruled for 500 years, but they fell in their prime and are now much reduced in power.

The moment your vision cleared, you realized that the hazy figures standing over you were in fact a huge crowd of people. They wore gray, military uniforms, along with black boots. Most of them looked to be asian, but there were a few who were white. Your body was lying prone in the middle of a hallway, which was the most likely reason for the huge crowd in the first place. Alarms rang everywhere, and the atmosphere was engulfed in chaos. More importantly, however, was the giant hole in the roof above you. All you could do was stutter out an incoherent “What’re you lookin at?”

In an instant, all of the soldiers trained their guns at him. Great, just great. Before, you though you were fucked, but now, now you’ve well and truly done yourself in. All you had to do was say four words, and already you’ve managed to get yourself killed. They were talking around you in some strange gook language, and there were a few “tari’s” thrown around here and there, but you didn’t need to understand what they were saying to know that they were going to kill you. You might as well kiss your sweet ass goodbye, this was it. Yet, in the face of impending doom, you just couldn’t stop being an impertinent asshole.

“The fuck? I say four words and suddenly you fags want to kill me?”

“Yes. Your tongue is of the Sy’tari. Well, that and you just fell through the roof, oh, five minutes ago?”

Shocked that you had gotten an answer back, you lifted your head to look at the person who had spoken. The formidable man forced his way through the crown. He didn’t even need to yell to get their attention, and so they parted like the reed sea for him. Holding out a hand, he helped you up to your feet, and smiled toothily at you as his shoulders shook in amusement.

“Do not worry, I know you are not Sy’tari. Your clothing is far too antiquated, and most Sy’tari do not speak English unless it is at church or when they are about to suicide bomb someone. You do not have the look of a killer, or a crazed religious fanatic. No, you are... temporally displaced. Tell me if I am wrong, yes?”

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>Ask the man why you’re in this room. He’s been pretty helpful so far,there’s no reason why he wouldn’t help you. Besides, nothing bad could possibly happen.
>You’re no brainlet. You see the writing on the wall - these bastards are gonna experiment on you, but you’re not gonna let em try. You try to escape.

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Last Thread

Twitter: @The_Renexizious

Discord: https://discord.gg/BbzTura

Character Sheet(Full!):https://drive.google.com/open?id=1jI0aGxA_2h3SAcPYri-1fdgskbK3IbtfEzSLJ7VY9gU
Character Sheet (Renexizious Only!): https://drive.google.com/open?id=1xgNKMzLUZS9L05DUCxmsvuYs-bGPIRpQsFv5k7oaBBk

You, of course, decide to treat best doggo to the greatest steak of his life. After all, he's family, and this is supposed to be family vacation, right? The waitstaff doesn't exactly seem pleased to see a fire-dribbling dog trot into their steakhouse, and don't seem to exactly buy your half-muttered excuse about him being a 'service dog', but in the end, relent under your angry stare. Blondie hops up into a chair, and paws at a menu on the table. He seems to be giving you a look as he paws at the biggest, juiciest looking steak on the menu, while looking at you with large, begging eyes...

>Order him the biggest steak. He's worth it!
>Order him a more modest, medium sized steak. You're not here to break the bank.
>Order him a small steak. He's out at a steakhouse, getting a steak, isn't that reward enough?

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Rolled 14 (1d100)

You ignore this.

Ignore a roll.

After a few more days, Kryos sends his second formal report, about what's causing so much racial tension in Sweden...

Humans seem to naturally dislike other races, feeling unwell around them and generally see them as "non-Swedish", and most humans are growingly increasingly convinced of a "superior" nature, seeing as how other races so far have contributed little or nothing to civilization or Sweden, and are little more then detractors in their opinion, or even in the eyes of a few, oppressors of a alien regime.

Lycanthropes and Elves are all widely disliked throughout Sweden, whereas in the Commonwealth, more people dislike Lycanthropes then elves. Minotaurs are somewhat neutral, somewhat liked for their work ethic, but disliked for their religion and culture, where as dwarves are looked on greatly by most, as they typically stick to themselves and don't bother humans or detract, along with being hard working and honest, and also speak native Swedish and have a somewhat familiar religion.

Yuan-Ti are also looked on as neutral, as they're largely Swedish, very Catholic, and don't really do anything to piss off humans.

In summarily, Kryos suspects that culture, religion, and fear stemming from mythology is at play here in the primary dislike of non-humans.

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>This is good as it is... You don't need anything else.
>>This is good as it is... You don't need anything else
>This is good as it is... You don't need anything else.

We really need to get our additional species into the military or something...
You wrap that up.

Do anons want to skip to the next month or do anything?

>Intervene in something politically... (Choose one thing to influence.)
>Continue onto the next month.

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Another Bob game!

Bob gets into crazy situation with his friends octa the octopus and raven the which. He has a backpack with all kinds of things in it.

I put Bob into a situation and you tell me what you want him to do. Roll 1d20 with your suggestion. Highest roll wins.

This thread is extra spooky
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You have no idea where you are or how you got here, but you're in a dark dark place. You pull a match from your pack but you still cant see, it's cold.

What do you do?

You wake up in a dark cold room. You are covered in blood and filth, but can't worry about that right now. Something approaches... it rattles and clanks.

> shoot it pistol (roll 3d6)
> shoot it salt shotgun (roll 2d6)
> silver sword it (roll 1d6)
> club it (roll 1d6)
> speak to it? (I guess)
> light a torch

HP: 20
DEF: 4+
14 replies omitted. Click here to view.
Rolled 1, 5, 4, 6, 6 = 22 (5d6)

The salt pellets don't seem to phase the beas....BAM!
The beast slams into you with immense force, trampling over you and crashing through the door you just shut! You hear bones shatter and assume that skeleton is no more.

HP: 8

You going to run now or keep this fight going?!
try and make the Minotaur crash into another monster or into wall
Rolled 6, 2, 2 = 10 (3d6)

You attempt to fool the Minotaur by holding your ground and a juke at the last second...
It worked... kinda. Ouch! You make a juke to the right as the Minotaur lunges torwards you clipping your side with his horn.

HP: 6

It down though... what are you going to do before it stands up?

> shoot it pistol (roll 3d6)
> shoot it salt shotgun (roll 2d6)
> silver sword it (roll 1d6)
> club it (roll 1d6)
> speak to it??? (Why?)
> run!

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“What’ll it be then, rook?” The voice comes from Tagg, almost drowned out by the louds engines beyond the warehouse. You’re not the only one taking to the sky tonight. You start to wonder if anyone else is on their first run.

“What’s on the table?” You play it cool, keeping your voice steady. You like Tagg, know he wouldn’t give you shit for being nervous, but still feel that there’s a certain level of professionalism that needs to be on display. This is your first field exercise, something you’ve been training for on clunky pre-war hard drives for the last six months. It’s a big deal.

“We’ve got a few. Either the Locals are being extra feisty or HQ is just cutting you a break, giving you options. Either way, you’ve got you pick. Here, look.” Tagg pulls up a holo across the table before you, digital documentation spreading out before you, obscuring the array of military hardware that was displayed there.

You’ve done your training, the simulations have been mastered. Now’s the time to show the brass you can get the job done in the field.

What type of mission are you going to be dropping into? Your options are ranked in order, from least risk/gain to highest risk/gain.

>> Recon: intelligence gathering, quiet and wholesome
>> Collection: classic scavenging, with a shopping list and all
>> Patrol: watch those corners and cover some ground
>> Extraction: grabbing something (or someone) important, smash and grab
>> Cleanse: shooting trouble makers, cleaning up the streets
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>> Other

“Roger that. Let me find you something.” Silence over the comms in your helmet leaves you in an abyss of nothingness for a few moments, wind against your face and inertia churning your stomach. Finally the geoneural mapper draws up a map before you, marking beacons at your objectives, and a new drop zone presents itself.

“Ok, you’re all set. I’ll start a countdown as I fly you in. If all goes well you’ll hit a park with tree cover – it’s minimal, but should do the trick. Remember to get clear of the zone as soon as possible.”

A countdown begins inside your visor and suddenly a small beacon appears, moving fast across the screen. It’s you. Everything snaps into place and the reality of what’s about to happen – not a simulation – hits home pretty hard.

You stand up, aiming for the tiny exit to the auto-drone’s aft compartment, and watch the clouds whiz by. Time for a minute of free fall and an abrupt, jolting stop moments before you splatter into nothingness in the dark wasteland that is suburbia.

>> Roll 2d10
Is there an on-site dice roller or can we use any site we prefer?
Rolled 3, 8 = 11 (2d10)

type in options, under name "bar/field" dice+1d10 or 1d20 or 2d10 etc.
Rolled 10, 4 = 14 (2d10)

Rolled 4, 1 = 5 (2d10)

Ah. Like this!

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You are Lieutenant Richter Von Tracht, officer of Panzers by authority of the Archduchy of Strossvald, and you are on a mission to rescue near several hundred of your countrymen from the clutches of a mercenary-brigand band deep inside of the anarchic realm of Sosaldt; one of the hostages being your fiancée, Maddalyn Von Blum.

One wouldn’t think that a panzer platoon would be the best suited force for a covert rescue, but you knew the logic of it. In a place as dangerous as Sosaldt, the best way to avoid trouble was to be extremely heavily armed. You had avoided trouble for the most part due to unwittingly having powerful friends, but the Intelligence Office had no way of knowing that.

Or did they all along?

It wasn’t worth thinking about; even trying to figure out those government spooks gave you a headache.

Getting back to the present, you had extricated yourself from Lord Wossehn’s party to try and find your ghostly companion Emma (thinking about being acquainted with a ghost was easier than thinking about the Intelligence Office). She would be vital in this coming plot to infiltrate Todesfelsen with the aid of Wossehn. Anywhere you couldn’t go, she could creep into completely unnoticed. The only trouble was finding her once more, since you had managed to piss her off earlier; not unrightfully, since Emma had been refusing to own up to a past wrong, but in hindsight you could have done without making her scurry off.

Since you had last spoken with her back in Rostig, quite a ways back west, part of you counted on not being able to find her at all. An equal part thought it quite reliable, though, that the excitable spriteling would never have passed up the opportunity to attend a fancy party, and could have been counted on to follow your band here if she even heard of where you were going. Curiosity, after all, seemed to be her strongest motivation, for better or worse.

You counted on the worse aspect of her curiosity to lead you to her here. You had been directed away from the little gazebo by the fountain in the courtyard gardens; a classical place for romantic interludes away from festivities, and if the blue light that was barely blotted out by the gazebo’s yellow lamplight was what you thought it was, you had correctly presumed where Emma’s filthy mind would lead her.

Fairly certain that you had found Emma now, you resolved to sneak closer, avoiding notice by the men watching out for their master while he did his amorous business, so you could retrieve her. Thankfully, it was child’s play to find a darker path out of the notice of most of the guards; the animals you had hunted in the past were much more careful than this security, and it was a good thing for their master that you were merely a peeping tom and not an assassin.
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DESU, a flat chest is one thing, but if she were taller then I'd doubt everyone would see her as jailbait.
I don't think we can make her taller with ghosts.
To be honest*
I know, this is more talking more about general taste than actually making her grow taller in story.
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