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SWEAR, or Special Weapons Response unit for short. A special part of the law enforcement unit in culling the supernatural and the extraordinary, particularly when it gets violent. Formerly an experimental and concealed part of the police force, the easily distinguished armed respondents are now commonplace, and so is the threats it tries to stop. Cutting edge weaponry and equipment are continuously researched to help their effort of securing public safety.

Over three decades ago, monstrous creatures known as "Wounds" start appearing out of randomly appearing rifts on reality connecting to an alternate dimension. The SWEAR unit were outnumbered, but the existence of magical vigilante's dubbed 'Mahou Shoujos" always appeared in the nick of time to save the day. These vigilantes, as the name suggests, are always females wearing odd outfits and strange reality bending powers that vary with each. Even so, they were always on shaky grounds with SWEAR, mutual allies at best and firing targets at worse. More so now that the "Wounds" and rifts no longer appear, "Mahou Shoujos" started to be seen as a threat to public safety, not only by the government but also the public that once adore them. Some forcefully apprehended, some retreated back into their everyday life and abandoning their heroic personas. The rest fought back and labeled as terrorists.

You are Ichijou Sakurai, one of SWEAR's newest recruit. Originating from the police force, your tenacity and inquisitiveness lead you to become a model policeman and an overachiever. Of course, you stuck your nose too deep and your superiors decided that you're a liability to their more shady dealings. Qualifying to serve in SWEAR, this is your only chance to escape from being "hushed". After months of training, today's the day you're going on your very first mission. A high school girl awakened her abilities and ran amok with her powers in her school after murdering her father.

"What are your thoughts, Sakurai-san?"

Captain Iwafumi, your superior who sat beside you in the truck you're on that's carrying your whole squad asked you.

"What do you mean, Captain?"

"About what we're going to face. We used to have these girls as our beacon of hope against the monsters that threaten to extinguish us, but now... Now we hunt them like dogs. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but we do do what we must do, at least that's what I think. What about you?"

What do you think of these "Mahou Shoujos"?

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>Get some more time in the training facilities. Chat with anyone we meet there.
I support the power of LIFTING

You are Nawakubi Hanano, a magical girl.

After the sudden betrayal of Morgan la Fay, you failed to resist against Albilio's surprise attack. Heavily damaged, you get captured, chained, and trapped within Morgan's prison within her mansion. In one month inside a dark cell you had been tortured unceasingly, for your blood- to be used for a ritual - and to break you further so Mordred can use you as a vessel.

Oneko Suzukawa, your childhood friend had been captured as well due to her magical capabilities and the prospect of using her to bolster the monstrous forces of the witch. She too had to endure the hardships you faced before her, awakening as a magical girl through wish and wanting. Empowered, Suzukawa had gained her catalyst - Faria's Will - and broke out of the prison, escaping with you in her shoulders.

Now you have returned back to the city, arriving in the outskirts of Tokyo. You have yet to regain your past strength, your beautiful appearance now weathered: a lost eye, and a body of scars.

Nawakubi Hanano - Magical Girl Profile:

- Two pistols that convert magical energy into bullets and is Nawakubi's catalyst.
Roaring Love Song:
- Remotely cast and control magical circles that fires a continuous barrage of destructive blasts.
Bullet Time:

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I can actually dig it. It's extremely unusual to see Hitler in a story working towards redemption.
Did QM burn out?
>got trips

I guess QM did. Fuck.
Probably OP is doing weekend stuff.
I suppose we'll just have to wait and see if it's true.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheHeadMasterTG

I'm thinking I'm back boys, having a job really fucks with qming am I right?

They say, there's been quite a few ages of piracy ya know? There's the one before the golden age and good ol roger's day, though one would a-struggle to really call that an age to be remembered as such nah wouldn't they? Nah, most folks think of the first golden age, the birth of piracy as we's sees it today. The birth that came from the death of one of perhaps the greatest men the seas have ever seen, spread by his finale words.

Heh, words have a funny way of causing trouble, don't they? especially last ones, oh those have a habit of traveling like wild fire on winds and waves, hehehe.
And judging from the looks in y'all faces, you know what I'll be sayin next I do believe.

Yep, the second REAL age of piracy began far away from the ol humble west blue, somewhere in the new world or something like that I believe, with the final words of strong ol white beard. The second rush of damnable gold fever, bringing forth new devils and heroes, pirates and other sailors. good folk leaving home after what they all said was just some blabbering of a myth. Well it ain't no concern of mine what's out there on the seas, be they blue or grand. Nah

Gold doesn't concern me, but stories, oh they ignite the passions, make a fellahs blood turn to fire in his veins. Just like the last words of the late D. Roger and White beard, a good story brings out the imagination, makes ya dream of what coulda been if you'd had like'ta pick up and set out on a adventure like they's all did before they bit the dust and laid down for that long, long nap.

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Sorry I missed the thread HM! New job and real life are a bitch sometimes, but what can you do? Glad you're back and questing though, you're doing a great job!
Take your time to figure out how your schedule is going to work and Run what you feel fits best man.
Hopefully we get back to Mali and Iris Sooner rather than later though, and May, Belua and Whatever is going to happen between Carol and Alex of course!
But really it's just nice to have you running if even a little bit again
Oh shit you alive!! Awesome

Of course, but I’m still worried about it
But are you as worried as Carol was when we rolled that nat 100 to shield Bash Alex in the face?
Probably not

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It’s not a very good evening, is your first thought.

You’ve sailed past Ireland plenty of times now, but this is the first time you’ve actually set foot on its soil. It’s a dismal sight; the rain pelts down and soaks you even through your thick, leather coat, the night is dark and thoroughly impenetrable past the dim lights of the small Irish village you stand in, and there’s a pervasively dour odour of sodden earth and wet concrete.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt more at home in the last eight months than you have now.

“Oi, Arnie,” a hand, thick and rough with callouses, slaps you on the back of your head. You snap around to find your older brother, Chalkie, lumbering past you, “C’mon, bruv, we ain’t got all night. I’m bleedin’ dyin’ for a drink and this place ‘as the first pub any of us’ve seen in yonks.”

“Yeah, what he said,” another of the crew, a lanky little git called Henry choruses along with another equally scraggly-looking young man you’re less familiar with called William.

You grunt and shove your hands into your pockets, glancing back at the spot you left the handful of rowing craft you and the less essential crew were allowed to take for this little excursion. Further into the water, and sitting in the mouth of the bay, you can just make out the Dove, the merchant liner packed to the brim with foodstuffs and other supplies vital to keeping your homeland fed and in the war. Hundreds of tonnes, and all of it will be used up inside of a week.

You grunt and follow the rest of the landing party, who hoot and holler, feeling all but invincible on dry land where no nasty German ponce with a U-boat can send you all to the inky depths with a torpedo. A few are even singing, and you hear Chalkie join in.

“Hey, hey, and up she rises!” you chuckle and shake your head; your ma’s singing voice, he had not. None of your brothers did, as far as you knew, but that certainly wasn’t stopping Chalkie.

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You don’t know an awful lot about Ireland, except the people have probably the weirdest accents you’ve ever heard and that they threw a fit over some Post Office or something a while back. Another thing you know is that they take their brand of Christianity a lot more seriously. Catholics all of them, or so you’ve heard, meaning that if there’s one place the village folk will have run to in the event of something bad happening, it’s probably their church.

“We’ll go ‘ave a look in that old church,” you point.

“Sod that!” Eddie cries, “Let’s check them boat houses, maybe we can find a way out of this place.”

You cuff him over the head with one of your thick hands. Eddie yelps, but you aren’t finished with him, yet. You knew he was a craven little shit, but if he keeps running his mouth and there is someone or something watching you all, then he’s going to get you and everyone else into trouble. Part of you wishes you’d taken someone else instead, but the bastard had the only knife and he wouldn’t have parted with it.

“Listen t’me, Eddie,” you say through ground teeth, “We’re stickin’ together. We don’t know who’s out there and I ain’t about t’let ‘em start pickin’ away at us. So until we find some proper gear to fend ‘em off with, or some extra bodies, you keep close, you understand me?”

Eddie nods. You grunt, knowing his being intimidated by your hulking profile will keep him in line, at least for the time being. Waving the rest of the group to follow on, you make for the church.

The road to the church is narrow and ill-kept. The whistle of the wind and the rush of the rain drowns out any sound beyond a handful of metres. A grim part of you wonders if you’d even hear a German machinegun being cocked or racked or whatever it needs to before belching its lethal payload and scything your entire party down like fresh wheat on harvest day. The ground is only slightly less treacherous; twice you almost trip over into the mud. One of your friends--a tall, ginger bloke by the name of Jack--actually does, effing and blinding as he picks himself up, nursing a bloody nose. You offer him an old, frequently-used handkerchief which he takes and applies without fuss. Needs must.

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The stench hits you like a physical wall, and you retreat a step, gagging at the awfulness of it. You hear others retch and choke as it wafts out of the interior to touch their own senses.

“Fuck a duck…” Jack groans, “What the hell is that?”

“Smells like…” another man hitches, and then promptly loses his last meal on the cold stone floor. The act prompts another sailor to dump the contents of his own stomach just outside the church. You manfully keep yourself from doing the same, but the temptation is all too strong. It’s worse than raw sewage; this is a thick, ungodly reek that sours the very air. Pushing on is the exact opposite of what you want to do, but you have to, because, like it or not--and you feel very certain you’re not going to like what you find one bit--you think the answer to the mystery of the vanished villagers lies deeper into the dimly-lit church.

You hate to be proven correct.

“Mother Mary and all the Saints…” Jack breathes in horror. They are the only words anyone utters as you behold the terrible scene within.

A handful of candles, the wax almost melted, provide just enough light to give you the information you need. That in itself is a small mercy--to see this in all of its grisly glory in broad daylight… you shiver in revulsion.

It seems as though the villagers did indeed make for the church. Or at least, the copious amounts of blood and viscera would indicate as such. Shredded chunks of meat and what looks like gnawed bone lie splattered and scattered around smashed church pews. The altar has been desecrated wholly--what looks like a pile of pulped eyeballs sits in a collection bowl on the scarred surface. Symbols are tarnished or shattered; there is gore everywhere.

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Rolled 84 (1d100)


I'm guessing there's no Holy Water left.
Rolled 53 (1d100)

Rolled 46 (1d100)


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Thread Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Stardust%20Crusaders%20Quest
Character Sheet: https://pastebin.com/FJJUkT9N
Offscreen events: https://pastebin.com/SGqnRYiA

Info: This game will take place in the fictional world of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure as you try to survive the events from parts 3-6 as Hitomi Kujo along with several other characters from the Jojoverse.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheDusterMan

Rules: The 1d100 dice are determined by the best of 3 rolls after the QM prompts the players to do so, if any of them succeed the dice check, its a win for them.
Crits only count if the dice rolls over 90 or under 10.
Write-ins are always allowed as long as you're not metagaming or deliberately trying to screw things up. Have fun!
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We goin to continue tomorrow, boss?

How does it feel to be back?
Man that was great Dust, thanks for coming back to this quest. Will you be running tomorrow?
Also congrats on graduating + finding a job
Thanks for showing up.
Of course, Cinderella should be a fun mini arc.
Feeling pretty glad there were still people here to play after the long hiatus, if anything I have you people to thank for it. I think I have lost a bit of my touch since I got tired of writing in a single day instead of the usual two, but nothing a few more sessions can't fix.
I've been thinking on doing some sort of halloween event but I have no Idea on what would work.
Gay powerleveling rant ahead.
Thanks, I ended up being very depressed in my last Semester due to having no time for myself back then, now that I graduated in geography and the most I do in my week is stare at map data and telling people what's wrong with their scales, I'm very happy to have my free time back. I hope I keep writing for as long as it pleases me and the playerbase
A halloween event, huh?
Well, I always thought that a haunted house would be a great idea for a bound-type stand.
>Halloween event
Josuke and Okuyasu take Jolyne trick or treating? If you wanna tie it into the plot they could knock on the door of that Managua who does Pink Dark boy.... or run into a mysterious ghostly alley....

Glad to hear things are better for you! As someone approaching gradation myself I'm glad to know it does improve a bit once you're out the other side.

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Pick race and location.
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Undead, Swamp.
i wonder if OP is considering the vote for Race and Location as different things.
If so we're Undead... one vote away from being Swamp.

You were then a young apprentice at the royal school of wizardry, with an almost certain path in life: to become one of the royal war wizards, skilled in casting fireballs and firebolts upon our foes under the command of the generals and miscellaneous lords in the kingdom. Or maybe you could become a private researcher, summoning creatures and binding them by pacts to your will, you were always good on the summoning classes. But one night at the tavern changed that.

It was a group of adventurers who had recently came back from a difficult quest, slaying a necromancer who was operating in the fringe parts of the kingdom terrifying villagers as he raised his armies of undead creatures. The adventurers boldly recounted the tale of how they slayed countless undead abominations and found the lair of the horrible necromancer. With unmatched skill they cornered and butchered the old man and looted his belongings.

Amongst the loot there was the grimoire of the necromancer. Now necromancy is considered taboo on the kingdom, all documents pertaining it having been destroyed long ago. That bunch of fools had a priceless document in their possession. You promptly offered to buy the grimoire from them.

They had it in them to decline your first proposal! But you made a more serious much higher bid for the grimoire and they reconsidered. It was yours! Priceless knowledge for you to decipher!

For the longest time you had to hide it of course, but one day you graduated from the royal academy of wizardry; no longer an apprentice, now a journeyman, your fate was in your own hands. You got a horse, a tent and enough dried food to last you for awhile and set forth into the world to start working on the forbidden craft of necromancy.

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Augustine decides that the frozen wastes in the far north is the most suitable place to start her journey into necromancy. Lore says a large army of kingdom soldiers clashed against an equally massive army of orcs in that location. The difficult terrain meant that most of the fallen from both sides were left to freeze. With some effort you should be able to get plenty of full skeletons and even frozen roten carcasses that spoiled before they could be consumed by the opportunistic predators of the tundra.

The battle happened in an ishtmus that must be crossed if one wishes to go north to the orcish lands. In the haydays of the war with the orcs a series of watchtowers would be manned from here to the capital as a fast warning mechanism, but it's been decades since the last orcish raid in our lands - they must be busy with problems of their own in the northern lands. Needing soldiers in other places the king had finally ordered the tundra garrison to be kept to a minimum until at some point it wholly ceased to be by administrative measure on reducing military expending.

What is a lucky break for you because there's a decently sized watchtower not far from the battle site that you could use as a temporary base of operation if you so desire. It's built in stone and looks like it would be better insulated than your tent at the very least. It even have a bunch of firewood on top of it.

There are sparse trees around the area. You can't be sure the region is free from predators but it's unlikely so sleeping alone in the cold might be dangerous. It wouldn't hurt getting to know your neighbours while you're awake.

On the other hand you're itching to try some of those necromantic summoning spells. You wonder how deep you'll need to dig before you find the remains of the warriors who died in that huge battle.

> Seize the abandoned stone watchtower
> Begin digging the battle site for corpses

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Help me
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>Wrap rug into rope
This is too easy, OP.
>Take key on desk.
>Walk over to door.
>Use key to cut carpet into thin strips.
>Braid thin strips into rope.
>Push desk beneath lamp.
>Climb onto desk.
>Hang rope tied into noose from lamp.
>Put noose around neck.
>Jump off desk.
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You do not remember what brought here; it's all a musk.... a blurry of veiled memories. You find yourself clutching to a black arrow tip, it stares at your very soul, crackling with maddening laughter.

Your essence is shackled. The air is seething with black mist, the realm shifts and stirs and yet you remain immobile. The arrow tip is gone, in front of you lies a myriad of frozen screams and mystifying dark bones of yore shrouded by a bottomless fabric. Two eyes pierce your soul, agony, loss and dismay bubbles inside these orb.

Then silence.

"Pardon my Visage, Mortal." A booming voice flayed your skin, shattered your bones and reduced you to an implacable pile of red mesh. You continue to exist regardless, the rules of nature do not apply here it seems

A throne of lost and damned souls rises from the twisted ground. The unfathomable figure shifts in form into a vile woman. There is nothing human about her, nothing at all.

"Are my bosoms and ill clad garments to your liking? I find it laughable really...oh."

Within moments, Your broken husk is restored to its former image. You open your mouth, words clinging to your tongue unable to escape...

"Well? I have you know that I, Lady Death , am a very busy woman. How did you get your hand on my token of spite?"

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Rolled 1 (1d20)

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"Hello? Yes, I'd like to claim the warranty on this magic item. It seems defective."
The illusion, whatever it may be. retained its deceiving form. The goblin was eyeing you this whole time without breaking a sweat. Luck was on his side; he had a bountiful sale this day.

You attempted to get on his greedy side when it was nighttime by asking him to check on your ring, he gladly accepted your offer.
"Perhaps thiss human sshould not meddle with Mogaril Badodad."
In an instant, he reduced the ring to mere naught by pouring an orange vial on it. When you were about to blast his slimy little head, he drops a smoke grenade beneath your feet, slipping away during the confusion.

Your purse feels lighter....

You lost the ring of dreams
You lost 20 gold


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You are Malcadir Grey narcissist, monarchist, and militant cult-leader extraordinaire. Exactly one week ago, you personally NONE of your men had anything to do it, it was YOUR accomplishment, not theirs, YOU did it slew a shadow fiend from beyond the pale, feasted on its flesh and were afflicted with a delightful array of mutations. At the moment, the cultists who've realized you are a living god and the slaves who've yet to understand this simple truth are in what remains of a goat-herding village in the Himalayas, awaiting your instructions.

> What do you want them to do to the village?

> Sack it for its valuables, put it to the torch, and enslave all who refuse to bend the knee to your throne and partake in the Eldritch Feast.
> Leave any villagers willing to convert here, and once you've taken enough food abandon it. Most of the village is dead and most of those remaining are helpless women and children, but their plight is beneath your concern.
> Remain in the village and build up your forces for now, and send your most charismatic cultists to proselytize to other settlements

> Then what do you want to do?

> Travel to the lowlands to find a farming settlement
> Explore the mountains to find a goat-herding settlement
> Begin searching for succulent eldritch flesh with which to sup on
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Rolled 9 + 8 (1d20 + 8)

Rolled 9, 16 - 4 = 21 (2d20 - 4)


> absolute rout, eldritch monarchist fanatics are terrifying
> Roll three 1d20+6 (Medium), try and beat mine
Rolled 9 + 6 (1d20 + 6)

Rolled 4 + 6 (1d20 + 6)

Rolled 14 + 6 (1d20 + 6)

Time to fry

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Let's get some background and context, the world is ravaged by beasts and there are only a few safe areas barely being kept safe but monster hunters. This group is that of some hunters, they live in a small town, and they are currently out to get a drink, let's meet the crew, shall we?
>Ranat: The rogue
>>Javar: The tank
>>>Hara: The support
Use these prefixes when using actions for each character, right now is roleplaying time as we set up the character's personality, the one with more then 2 upvotes and is acceptable is accepted.
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Supporting all 3
OP, If you want your precious "OC's" to be un-ravaged by the raw autistic force that is anon, I recommend moving this game to someplace more considerate of these sorts of things, like tgchan.
>The Rasict are a sub-species of humanly widely known for their extreme racism towards all non-Rasict

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Ok /qst/, lets do this.

>Everyone get to pick a civ
>Everyone chooses a starting area on map, capital city, other city. Also population distribution is decided by player (Capital city must always have most pop)
>Two 'development' actions along with one regular action
>Development actions can develop magic, tech, or culture
>Regular actions are limited only by the people in your civ. You can use them to build, explore, fight, etc.
>civs start with 1000 guys,
>civ population will rise to food production (not immediately)
>food production starts @ 1000
>once a civ is picked, give names for civ, cities, culture, and who populates it. Just a sort of intro to the civ and what kind of culture it has. As a point of reference, progress is around Bronze Age tech, and you can have whatever knowledge is included there.

>although its fantasy, all races will start with no magical abilities.

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>Capitol: Adin'jorah: 600
>Hanin'jorah and Uski'Jorah: 200 each

Jorans are a strange race. They have an innate connection to the primal energy of life. Their life cycle is never more than an even fifty years. They do not give birth in any traditional manner. Instead, two or more Jorans create an effigy, which they then empower with a segment of their own essence. The final participant in the ritual is given the effigy to carry to term. This effigy can be made of anything: wood, stone, cloth, mud, coral, or bone. After six months, a new Joran is born and rapidly matures by age ten.
Jorans are slender, androgynous individuals with skin color ranging from slate grey to ivory white depending on the season or their environments with the darker Jorans residing in places with more sun and heat. Their diet is primarily plant-based, with coal and oil being the rough equivalent to cocaine and meth. They can ingest rocks, although it does not appear to carry any particular nutrient benefit for them.
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Action 1: Improve our fishing (that is to say 'start' fishing) over the river by building nets to catch with.

Action 2: Try to get domesticate wild wolves.

Action 1: The Gorons dig a food mine into the sides of the volcanic mountain at Darmani. Here they can harvest the freshest, tastiest rocks for eating. (- 250 gold)

Action 2: Gorons explore and survey the route between Darunia and Darmani, to see what stones or ores they can find as they move from one settlement to the other, and back again.
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> Sunkhos: 800
> 1 Town: 200
> Food: 1000
> Treasury: 750 (+100)
> Notable Techs: None
> Resources: None
> Notable Magicka: None
> Military Units: None

Action(Build Building, 250 gold): Build a Floating Depot(Food) out of logs in the sea.

Action(Explore): Scout our surroundings.
Alright, first try at this lets see how it goes

A race tortoises that have managed to develop the leg strength to begin walking upright, they slowly have developed intelligence.
Duflei POP: 800
Ayon POP: 200
Fishing village located on the lakeside.
The Boyotins have a heavily religious culture. Centered around the one true god, Boyo who they claim created all of the universe, and gave them the strength to walk. Since their god created the universe, they view all of life as Boyos creatures, and to kill is one of the greatest sins. They have developed an extremely peaceful society. Their diet consist mostly of fish and seafood.

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Rolled 36 (1d100)

So if you want a functional civ game and are willing to learn how to play it properly this is the thread for you.

Alrigh I am sick and tired of endless floods of shitty civ quests(particularly those of the fantasy origin of all things). So I am going to do something very special for anons who wanna play/learn how to play a civ game. That's right feel free to ask questions on how everything works and why I got those results. I will explain EVERYTHING. This civ game will be the ultimate sample for everything else I have revealed before. Now there are going to be 3 iterations of this special civ quests. 1 in fantasy.1 Post Apoc. 1 sci fi. I might even do a fourth in a historic or modern sense too but I will think about that.

So right now this quest is fantasy civ starter. Here you will select your civ type and then your race. They will provide you the base stats of your civ. You will also get to choose a special HQ bonus and even a heroic unit of your choice. Now stats can easily be changed in game so don't be afraid of trying to boost lower stats or fear those with too high. They all come with their own checks and balances.

In fact, the only UNBALANCED faction content is reserved solely to the NPCs. So you don't have to worry about running them just fighting them off will be a challenge.

Now to make things interesting is your starting terrain is going to...exotic and far from the old world. In the new world the locals are believed to be weak.

Which means...lots of fun. Now let us begin in the name of a long-running civ Quest it is I the GENIE who makes this promise! So HAH told you I would keep my promise with those civ general folks but this is the best I can do. Is to show everyone how its done.
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Well it was 3:30am on a saturday, he /was/ talking to himself. But that's only to be expected when starting a thread at 3:30am on a saturday.
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Rolled 27 (1d100)

>Faction: Trade Republic
>HQ: Fortified Township
>Terrain: Chilly Island Atoll
>Homeground: Frozen Ancient Ship Graveyard
>Region: Coastal, Non-Icing due to currents

Known as the Knotalich Republic, we are lead by our charismatic and brilliant economist founder, Gunther Von Knotalich. Previously just a simple and hardy collection of scavengers and merchants trying to make a living off of what rare materials could be scavenged from the occasional safe wrecks that would be blown out of the nearby ancient ship graveyard by storms, this was all turned around in a (curious lack of a) heartbeat by our illustrious Founder.

Arriving humbly upon the crude fortified township that would become the Knotalich Republic one eerily tenebris and viciously cold night, our illustrious founder immediately purchased the entire town outright using an unknown ancient currency. (which was promptly revealed by the man's ancient knowledge to have roughly triple its expected worth, on account of antique status and the special extra-dense gold alloy it was made of. Simply stupendous!) Since that fortuitous, moonless and stormy night, Gunther Von Knotalich has applied his business acumen ceaselessly to the enrichment of those under him! Claims that he would seem to have centuries of experience at mercantilism under his belt are regularly heard. Though such rumors about the head of the merchant council are swiftly dismissed as ridiculous by its employees and officials, there's no doubt among every member of the Knotalich republic that their leader could certainly maneuver them profitably through the eons and beyond even death itself.

The most remarkable change brought about by the Chief Consul Knotalich would be taking an ACTIVE stance on extracting rare materials from the nearby undead-infested Ship Graveyard. Where previously the civ had to wait for isolated ships to be washed up, now there's a frenzy every winter when the waters of the graveyard-cove freeze. Under Consul Knotalich's careful direction safe ships are excavated from their solidly frozen state and ransacked for their goodies. Truly we do not know how the ships selected are always safe, or why the immaterial undead do not attack us during the excavations, but so long as our wise leader is nearby everything seems to go fine.

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Oh nice.
Rolled 14 (1d100)


It's not hard to grow a decent seed of an idea, that's why Genie rewards fluff so heartily. What's more difficult is working in double-pun names.

get it, because they're naval AND the leader -isn't- a lich?

Other industries
-Salvaging the undead ships while plundering them, repairing the ships with the undead materials, and then Gunther Van Knotalich finding shroud-covered buyers that are undead from the ship graveyard themselves for the refurbished vessels.
-Splitting the plunder from the undead pirates that we are quietly subsidizing and laundering the money for goods the undead want, while keeping a good share ourselves
-Other undead-related shenanigans

Let the hilarity ensue.
Rolled 62 (1d100)

>Getting to make over-the-top renouncements of the undead through the guise of our secretly undead leader.
>Political opposition hires a special counsel to investigate our possible links to the undead
>Hire town criers to continually badmouth political opponents, and promote a Knotalich-first economic and trade stance

It is the year 25XX, hundreds of years ago a mysterious plague caused all food crops to mutate into monstrous predatory vegetables. 70% of the human population was wiped out by the vegetable monsters and the resulting famine. The survivors escaped into space and continue to live on moon bases and orbital habitats. Despite having access to weapons of mass destruction humanity cannot simply wipe out the vegetables. There was no time to secure untainted crop samples or livestock during the great evacuation; to feed itself humanity must kill the vegetables and consume their flesh.
The vegetables reproduce quickly on any land that can sustain plant life so no territory can truly be secured against them. Only the lifeless Great Interior Desert serves as a suitable staging platform for the endless war against the veggies. To counter their reproduction, humanity adopted a doctrine of drone warfare. From the desert vast command crawlers invade vegetable territory, their onboard fabricators churning out waves of disposable combat drones who gleefully blast apart the unrelenting tide of plant monsters, leaving the corpses for scavenger units to process into nutri-blocks and ship into orbit.
For some reason the drones are made to look like cute characters and imbued with an almost childlike devotion to their commanders. They will happily fight against impossible odds just to earn their commander’s praise.

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For the commander.
Name: Lt. Rice
Command Perks: Crawler Operator, Crawler Engineer, FSD-PC
Starting Squad:
Fire Support Drone 1 (Jasmine)
Fire Support Drone 2 (Basmati)
Fire Support Drone 3 (Arborio)
Protocol: _@


My apologies to all those who have signed up thus far, but after waiting a whole day we still don't have enough players to start.

I can only assume that their either isn't enough interest or that the skirmish scene on /qst is too saturated.

Either way this game is cancelled. I will shelve the mission and maybe run it another time.
Alright, boss, no worries.

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>You are Anon. You go to Republic High. You're also not very popular or cool there.
>Starting today you will change that.
>Swiftly you set your alarm for 6 AM. Too bad it's already 1 in the morning.
>"PWAH!" you think to yourself. "Who even needs sleep? I sure don't."
>Your alarm proves you wrong and a wave of exhaustion washes over your nerd body when you awake.
>The morning soon reveals itself to be a nightmare. Your school uniform is VERY wrinkled and you smell like ass.
>You toss your uniform into the laundry and take a shower.
>The water is nice and warm. It brings some semblance of color to your cold pale NEET skin.
>After drying off you iron your uniform and head out to school and for the first time in years you use your bike.
>Muscles burn and lungs refuse to function. So this is..."working out."
>Surprisingly you make it to school with time to spare. Nice.
>You leave your bike by the pressure washed bike rack and head inside the pristine halls of Republic High with new determination.
>Maybe you'll ask out that cute Jedi, or make friends, or-- Why are you being called to Principal Palpatines Office?

>The chair is uncomfy, much like the situation you're in. Sweat is beating down your face and you refuse to swallow in fear.

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Guns just aren't intimate enough to be good fap fuel.
Seeing this gave me confidence so i'm gonna make that star wars freelancer game I've been planning
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Jango is going to be murdered by that quota meeting Jedi monkey from Republic High, just you wait.
But are they CUTE!
Hello there.

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Deep within a forest, past the tall proud trees and bushes that bear poisonous fruit after blooming gorgeous flowers, a small hut found itself home within the wilderness. It was crudely made, weathered by Mother Nature; the foundation hasn't been visited by anyone for years at a time, and maybe won't be seen anymore as the plants overtake the structure. Inside was a shrine, more so, a recreation of a nest. Nestled within the center was a stone rock, abnormally smooth and elongated.

Days passed, the sky turning into many shades of color from the calming blackness of dusk and night, to the energetic and lively blue that covers the world like a blanket, the Sun serving as a father to the Earth. But on a dawn, where most humans and beast alike are still slumbering, the rock shook.

It shook and shook and shook, the force of whatever is inside toppling the rock over and out of the stone nest. The surface of the rock cracked once it had collided with the ground, the life within it breaking free. What the egg has given birth to was a crow, fully grown and almost as big as a raven in comparison.

You will be this crow. Whether if you try to find out about your origin or live like the animals of the Earth, it's up to you now.

> Eat the remains of the rock
> Fly away
> Inspect the contents of the hut
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Returning to the remains of your shell you start to eat the broken layers of rock. It was easier than imagined, chipping away at the pieces and consuming it one at a time. Eventually, not one bit of the egg that bore you was left, your stomach satisfied.

With nothing left to do or to look within the small hut, you spread your wings and flew off into the air. Like a newborn bird that has been thrown off by its mother, it took you a few seconds to get a handle of your movement. You started low, then worked your way up high, switching between altitudes until you stayed near above the trees where it was most comfortable for you.

After a long time in the air, over the sea of trees, you see a weird mass at the horizon. It was white, the building being a huge complex. At its borders are meters of chain-link fence, behind it, another wall built with regular stone. Both defenses were guarded by wire at the top, able to cut deeply with even the slightest of contact.

What's within was a slew of patrolling humans, decked out in black gear and guns. This place seems very important from the likes of it, the facility brimming with unprecedented mystery.

> Land near the fence
> Land behind the wall
> Directly go to one of the humans

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>Land near the fence
>go to one of the humans
Go to the humans.
>> Land near the fence

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