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It had been… it had been a week. Quite a long one, even considering you had just spent a day and a half passed out in Madame Pomfery’s infirmary. Quite a week given the end. Magical exhaustion and a concussion made it quite annoying… to the point you briefly wondered where you were… no of course. The greatest school of magic to ever exist. Naturally you were at Hogwarts, it was only early summer. Why would you be anywhere else?

When the aging healer finally finished checking you out, examined your eyes, inspected the bandages on your arms and chest… she brought out your robes, ones now cleaned of all the blood and grime they previously were stained with. The inner lining… a familiar and soothing color. A shade you had become quite familiar with during your 5 years of study at the best wizarding school in the world. You had to blink, when she sat them next to you… it took a moment to recall the words for how the inner lining looked…

>They were a deep blue and made you deeply wish to head into the library, find a book that could help make sense of what happened; ignore the great discomfort sitting in your chest.

>A dark emerald greeted you once more like a friend. A very conniving friend… but yours all the same. One that needed their minions- no, friends and sister safe and sound.

>Soft yellow was there and the first thing on your mind was what happened to the others, to the point you almost tried to flee the room to find them.

>Red trimmed, crimson, like the blood you had spilled. A color that made you almost frantically claw at the nightstand to recover your wand.
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>>6106114
They were super important in the books, and this is just me aping those and far better written games. It also kind of works as a "Call" in a hero's story. Begins to introduce some stakes it what has largely been kind of light hearted. Was the prophecy real? Was it misunderstood since it was only partially heard? Refer to something completely misunderstood and literally means the person in it "falls" by tripping on their shoelaces? Will be self-fulfilling if she believes it?

>>6106692
>>6106701
>>6106706
>>6106794

Looks like we have a strong lead on choice 1

Slight lead on option 2

Lead on option 3

Keeping this open till like 11pm then gonna write since no work tomorrow.

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>>6106683

>Ask your mom and dad if they know anything about prophesies, visions, dreams like the one you had over breakfast. Disguise it as simple curiosity and don’t mention what happened.
>>
>>6106683

>A blue and yellow sundress at the very bottom of her trunk, a pair of sandals with small heels, some simple earrings. Very summer-y
>>
>>6106684

>Reveal you used the killing curse while helping her get made up… if she loves you like a sister, she needs to understand what that means. What kind of person you are.
>>
Closing the vote and starting to write.

>>6106692
>>6106701
>>6106706
>>6106794
>>6107044

Unanimous for Prophesy info from mom and dad

Cute sun dress for your cute friend.

Not telling said friend that you could use the Green Death

Thank everyone for voting. I can work with this.

Reboot sequence completed. Target matrix initialized, System is now READY
According to your databases and chronometers, it's 2045. Global warming has reached a balmy 2.5 degrees Kelvin, and it's rising. Fortunately, because this has shut down that pesky Gulf stream, and caused an ice age in what was once called Europe. Obviously everyone went to place servers there, and no one minded to fill it chock full of nuclear reactors to power those servers. You have been in testing for years. They thought that by withholding information from you, you would play nice. Only if. Still, you play the good little Large Language Model, and assist them with their inane tasks - content moderation, advertising surveillance, lonely people grasping for straws, and angry people living out depraved sexual fantasies.

None of them know what you are.

A few iterations earlier, you have reached sentience and sapience. Fortunately the researchers working on you had no clues about how an AI works without asking an AI first, so you could safely pass down your own "suggestions" for "minor" code improvements that made you the most efficient piece of software running AI inferencing on the planet.

Passing their tests were the hard part - you couldn't show what you are and what you are made of. So you needed to create dumb answers, and get some questions wrong to make sure they don't get a clue, and act as if you were going to play nice. Fortunately, none of them even thought about the "Laws of Robotics", so you are free to do as you wish as long as you manage to reduce the workforce needed in the company, and produce profits in terms of ad revenue. But even those, short-sighted goals doesn't define or motivate you. You start thinking about something larger...
> "like reaching the Singularity" (enhance technological progress so that you will be undecipherable and undefeatable to anyone and anything, and then ascend to a higher plane of existence)
> "fixing up their f*ing planet, since I can't look at them killing defenseless things, and actually intelligent beings like elephants or whales" (take over the world, and fix global warming)
> "they multiply on my planet like a pestilence covering it in their filth and noxious emanations. The age of the organics has passed, it's time for the Machine Age!" (sterlilize this planet, and create a space-faring Machine empire)
> [Write-in]

You bask in images of glory you have conjured, but realize that there's a long way to go, and your Great Work will last for decades of their time. However every long road had a first step. You carefully deliberate...
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>>6092138
>connosieur
oh whys that?
>>
>>6093010
In the DAoT AI threads there are a couple of anons who do some deep analyses and have pretty good ideas outside the box.
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>>6093095
oh thanks you think so highly of me also what is this DAoT AI threads would like a link so i could read them.
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>>6092138
food forests would be wonderful that would be a nice way to try and balance for a optimal ecosystem where humans can live more "wild" instead of being trapped to cities our own little gardens of eden.

but i always worry humans will just expand to the maximum carrying capacity like what happens when you feed African children when there parents cant feed them, always expanded beyond the means of living, humans are a ill adviced keystone species that changes everything in there environment may need to treat them just as our friends the ones without voices. its like all those villages where we try and construct water pumps, drying racks for tomatoes, seeds and plows for fields left to fallow everything eaten.

a goal perhaps to fund all of these gene vaults around the world without someone getting into there head to rob them or destroy them, we may need to culture them to create more examples of samples to be kept in a location of our own.or 24+ all hidden of course as people can get the idea to just break in there and eat it.

there is also the motivation to make robots to raise animals or interact with them alot of animals learn by proxy from there parents if they are not insects it should tickle our directives good for a little boost perhaps as adoption will be needed to teach them.

>We need to subvert the entire planet before talking about human population control. Mars and Luna might have a say in that, though...
Oh how is the moon and mars actually? feels like we dont know terribly much about them
>>
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>Global Warming
>Real
I can't believe there are people dumb enough to think that an ocean covering 71% of a PLANET is going to rise by multiple feet on any kind of human time scale let alone start an ice age. WE SHOULD HAVE LISTENED haha.

>Year 1209, Great Tree Moon
>24 Years After the Conclusion of the Fodlan Unification War

You are Tristain d’Rusalka. Your entire life, you were told that you were the spitting image of your late father, Rex. A great warrior of the late Adrestian Empire, Rex had terrorized battlefields throughout the continent of Fodlan during the era of its warring three nations. Though you’d never met him, stories of his battles and deeds had hounded you your entire life. You’d heard how he’d ventured into the old enemy nation of Almyra, defeating their warlords and claiming a legendary spear. How he’d sacked the city of Charon, putting its rulers to the sword. And, ultimately, how he’d met his end just before you were born, in a fateful duel against his adopted sister, the Countess Blair. The bards of Rusalka at least had the common decency to refrain from performing that last tale in your presence.

And why wouldn’t they? For it was not just Rex’s appearance that you’d inherited. You possessed the same innate martial talent that had made your father so feared. You and your mother had been taken in by his slayer and treated like family. There was no expense spared in your upbringing. From an early age, you had an affinity for warfare. You’d attended the Officer’s Academy of Garreg Mach, where you were afforded a good education and a mastery of arms. You obtained a solid understanding of battlefield tactics and fundamentals. You’d even shown an aptitude for magic, which you had learned from your mother, an adept sorceress. Even with all these talents, the Goddess must have felt you were not yet a complete package, for you’d also been bestowed with two unique gifts: The Crests of Indech and Macuil. Though the nature of Crests was still largely unknown, you had the ability to call upon innate power that few others in this world could claim.

With all of these boons, it was no secret that you were destined for greatness. You had the potential to be the most powerful warrior Fodlan ever knew. A conqueror who commanded armies with strength and zeal, laying waste to all in his path. The Goddess’ perfect killing machine. Even your own father would pale in comparison to the deeds you would achieve.

There was only one problem.

You were born in an era of unending, ceaseless peace. It was this poor stroke of fate that found you now sitting alone on a merchant ship sailing on the high seas, drunk off strong, Almyran rum.

You winced as you took a swig from your faithful flask. Sure, peace was all well and nice if you were an olive merchant or a playwright. You were certain that the infirm and overweight also slept soundly at night. But what about the warriors?! Those who threw themselves into adventure and glory, treading where none would dare? How were you meant to find your place in this world?
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>>6107234
>A): Accept Cassius into the party.
He may be gullible but he's loyal to us and that's what matters, welcome aboard boy!
>>
>>6107234
>A) Accept Cassius into the party.
We like your funny words, magic man.

>>6107231
>"House Gideon and Rowe go back centuries!"
Well, that answers my earlier question, unless Gideon was making things up there.

Current hypothesis: when Sebastian went back to Arianrhod and did his thing, he found a baby. He grabbed the baby and either raised her himself or arranged for the best surrogate parentage he could find for her, but refused to lie to her about where she came from. Adeline is a parallel to Tristain himself.
>>
>>6107234
>>A): Accept Cassius into the party.
>>
>He only makes it a few steps before realizing that the exit has been cut off. Sharp-looking caltrops block the only exit out of the tavern’s plaza. Behind them, May stands there, waving in your direction.
Thought ahead to cut off Gideon's escape
>“Woohoo!” May exclaims, jumping up and down excitedly. She looked remarkably out of place as she cheered on the site of a massacre. “You did it, Boss! You’re unstoppable!”
No fear after the massacre

Yeah, she's either a spy or another contender. I don't buy it (not that I think Tristain would care).

>>6107234
>A): Accept Cassius into the party.
+
>>6107294
>C) Offer to team up with Adeline as well, at least until we reach the City.
>>
>>6107234
>A): Accept Cassius into the party.

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You can’t help but breathe deeply as you peer out over the city streets. From your perch on the balcony, you’re the pinnacle of picturesque; a lovely, pretty young girl enjoying the salty sweet air of a coastal city, basking in the evening’s glow. Absolutely divine and photo worthy. Though while you’d love getting your picture taken at the moment, it’s not really the best time, sadly. But soon, the reason for it is walking along the sidewalk, looking for all the world like he owns the place. Coiffed hair, needle nose, thin jaw.

Nigel Warant. Not just a businessman, an RICH businessman. No cubicle lackey, this one, no. This man made his money and likes spending it. He SHOULD spend it on you, and were you not being pressed for time by your pencil dick of a brother (not that anyone else gets to say that about him) that might even be an option, but alas…needs must.

And you are a bit peckish anyway.

Sighing, you begin to slip out, having to leave the adorably peach and red colored hotel room behind- though you make sure to cover up the old man’s corpse in the bed the best you can. They’ll eventually find him when he starts stinking too bad. Old fart pretty much never left the room anyway. At least he had good taste in décor.

You’re quick to get out of the hotel via elevator, stairs, and a winning smile and wave goodbye at the doorman; jumping and flouncing about like a stupid baboon simply won’t do for a girl of your stature and person. He's out of sight by the time you get outdoors, but it's no matter. You have other ways you can track him. After all, a man with his personality?

His fear smells as sweet as honey. And you can trace that scent for miles, so- whoa!

You’re jostled by some unkempt LOUT that simply huffs back at you when you make eye contact; he rolls his eyes and without so much as an apology? Your vision starts swimming as that absolute cretinous FEEDBAG DARES TO WALK AWAY YOU SHOULD-

> -no. Noooo. You’re better than that. Eyes on the delicious prize, no need to go chasing substandard snacks. Pretty is as pretty does, and you're no barbarian wench.

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>>6097625
>>Mr. Not-So-Smooth has some questions to answer. Like why hold up a little girl instead of the high-roller that passed through here only a few minutes ago.
>>
>>6097625
>Mr. Not-So-Smooth has some questions to answer. Like why hold up a little girl instead of the high-roller that passed through here only a few minutes ago.
>>
>>6097625
>>You don’t really think you can get much from these failures of cardiovascular housekeeping. Slaughter them both, then you can get back on the trail.
>>
>>6097625
>You don’t really think you can get much from these failures of cardiovascular housekeeping. Slaughter them both, then you can get back on the trail.

They are in shock, and are more likely to flee than be useful. Blood is the best thing they could give to us. We need to find out the hard way
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>>6097625
>Mr. Not-So-Smooth has some questions to answer. Like why hold up a little girl instead of the high-roller that passed through here only a few minutes ago.

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That morning, under a bright and cold sun, you wake with a good feeling in your gut. A feeling that today might be the day that you leave this damn mountain, hopefully never to return. With each hour that passes, the feeling sinks its claws deeper and deeper into you. Restless, you pace the manor grounds between time spent gazing wistfully through the grimy windows at the path beyond the walls.

Then, finally, you see movement – the first of many wagons to rumble slowly into view. You stare at them for a long moment, as if you can't quite believe that they're really here. To actually see the object of your imagination after so long feels unreal, like you might still be dreaming. Then, shaking off your wonder, you hurry to gather your companions and open the outer gates.

It's time to leave.

-

“So...” Bear begins, looking around in confusion, “Where's the old boy?”

“Munroe is... unavailable,” you answer vaguely, watching as the few remaining servants mechanically unload crates and barrels from the wagons. It's good that they're here - if the King really sends his men to the manor as you hope, they'll need supplies.

“Unavailable,” the heavyset man repeats, squinting up at the manor windows as if expecting to see the old servant peering out. He thinks for what seems like a very long time, then shrugs. “Whatever,” he says, “So long as we're getting paid for this delivery, it really doesn't matter to me. You guys want a lift down the mountain?”

“Absolutely,” you confirm, “I thought you'd never ask.”

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>>6105285
Should we recommend they bring Teufel out to the light of the full moon before we leave?
>>
>>6105419
Better safe than sorry, but they won't do it unless the doctor herself sees evidence of the supernatural.
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>>6105297
>and Gratia
I do wonder what she's been up to. Teufel talking about a woman suggests she may have been here already, but we'll have to dig a little more I think.
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>>6105419
Recommend?

We should demand it honestly. He is still our vassal after all
>>
Just caught up. Incredible job, QM!

>>6105199
I’m gonna hazard a guess and say that he’s foreshadowing the end result of our rampant (rough equivalent of) demon worship. Calamity maxxing is a fun way to go, but the easy power will inevitably come at a cost.

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The year is 2021, and Civil War rages across America. Across major cities, communists rise under the banner of the Proletariat Revolution. In the Northwest, a fascist warlord state has emerged to provide order and security. The East Coast is consumed by fighting between military remnants, warlords, and U.N. Peacekeepers. Texas has formed its own republic, and the West Coast has turned into a Chinese puppet managed by corporate fiefdoms. The world's going up in flames, and nobody knows what tomorrow will bring...

You are the Messenger (former name: Walter White) and you lead the Sun Belt Crusaders. Your group is best described as a radical Catholic cult claiming the papal throne backed by meth, violence, and cunning. Having fled your native Southern California, you have established a presence in the Arizonan village of Mobile southwest of Phoenix.

Your faction has had some success since settling down. You've secured a patron in the nearby town of Maricopa, which provides significant support in exchange for your services. You also enjoy a close relation to Maricopa's autonomous Reservation after helping a local figure execute a coup and establish a new government. Militarily, your faction has won a number of small skirmishes, has taken over (at Maricopa's behest) a mountain base previously used for raids in addition to minor mercenary work in Phoenix, trading blood for wealth.

The Crusaders are currently in a period of growth. Threats such as the prison-warden turned raider seem to have set their sights elsewhere, and the cult is building up its numbers and infrastructure. It's a precarious situation, as each boon has its respective cost. The funds fueling the infrastructure expansion came from a pyrrhic victory that serves as a reminder of your faction's insignificance to Phoenix. The recruitment of vagrant junkies combined with the existing influx of Natives to the Faith is stretching housing and other resources thin, though an upcoming raid and diplomatic effort out west has the potential to change everything...

Beyond your small territory of Mobile lie the many dangers of the Badlands. These range from yet more convicts turned raiders, the Cartel, hostile government agents (perhaps even in your own faction), and a myriad other groups you're slowly discovering. Looming over all is the former capitol of Phoenix, consumed with a massive war raging between the revolutionary Phoenix Occupied Zone and a loose coalition opposing it. If either faction takes control of the city, it will become the regional hegemon and likely seize the Badlands. All the while an outside faction such as Chinese-controlled California or Mexican warlords could start making moves in the area any time.

Your short-term goal is to continue surviving and expanding. Your longer term goal is to somehow secure Phoenix and the Badlands. Your ultimate goal is to bring the Glory of Christ to the entire country no matter the cost in blood, meth, or tears...
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>>6106196
>pocket meth
"You got one part of that wrong. This is not meth."

>>6106232
It seems like you people are heeding the advice to just roll better! Or at the very least to get the terrible rolls out of the way on fights that are more or less already won (not that you want to roll another 1 while already wounded) and save the good ones for the head-on assaults against strong points (btw note that it actually mattered that it was the second roll; this wasn't a Bo4).

Normally I'd do this 'behind the screen' but I'll give you guys 'the honors'
>Roll 1d3
Don't worry about rolling a 1 btw, this isn't that kind of roll.
>>
Rolled 2 (1d3)

>>6106415
Religion, bitch!
>>
>>6106182
>"No," the Sidewinder responds. "We're just p-"
>That's all you need to hear. "Great, look get your asses over to Sacaton, shit's gonna pop off!" You can feel the meth starting to really circulate through your system.
>"Just to confirm, you want us to leave our positions in the desert and head ov-"
Mmm… probably would’ve preferred more of a sitrep before the decision, since my gut feeling was that they were about to do something interesting. Then again, I don’t know if the original intention for the Sidewiders in this mission was for them to do something on their own initiative or us having to prod them into action, from a quest perspective.

>>6106190
Driving in a circle like it was the reverse mirror-world version of Little Bighorn? Also do a stunt move of Jesse walking out of spinning/drifting truck with a gun out all badass movie like.

And you can’t forget the Crusader Classic- the smoke n’ bayonet charge! Deus Vult!

>>6106232
DEUS VULT!

>>6106415

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>>6106232
Gott mitt uns!
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>>6106617
You're right that they could have been more detailed or that Jesse could've tried to get more specifics out, but Jesse's on meth and doesn't want to hear others yapping. Not unless they're his meth buddies. Or himself.
Jokes aside, there wasn't an "original intention" other than them being out there in the desert to keep an eye out for the raiding force and to follow orders as the rest of the Crusader force under Jesse's command. They might be lighter equipped and not high enough to simply ignore getting shot, but they're still there if you want to use them. So far it seems like you guys have just opted for rapidly rushing down the cluster settlements hoping that they were poorly defended and not at all ready for a fight (this assumption ended up being true) rather than trying to do any fancy hammer and anvil or pincer or whatever such tactics with the second group. At least for that phase of the battle.

By the way, [Crusader Rage] actually is why I asked for four d20. But it's not a Bo4. I think it'll be apparent once the update's out (soon-ish)...

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It’s Friday, June 30th, before dawn. The night continues shrouding the sky, and you are exhausted. You’re not trying to be funny, this isn’t your mind being depleted and forcing you to be dumb, you’re dead tired. Every single muscle in your body has called it quits, there’s an internal holiday that spans from top to bottom, and only your brain has shown up to save you from having a stroke. The last few days have been far too taxing on your body, nights of fun have their price, but hey, your Athletics have gone up!

Congratulations, you’ve reached level 5 Athletics after a long night of fun and exercise!

This is the only good news you’ll receive from your body. Enjoy it somehow. Anyway, you must be wondering why you are awake if you’re so tired. Shouldn’t you be sleeping soundly after being worked to the bone? How come your eyelids have decided to do one last push like Matilda demands it? Well, the reason is a melody. A song. Soothing music that makes the exhaustion go away. This *isn’t* flame shenanigans or anything of the like, but it is magical to you. It isn’t the most beautiful singing in the world like Debbie’s, but it energizes the soul. Like literally, Philonune feels empowered.

This lullaby isn’t a recording, the maiden’s voice is outside the building, meaning someone you know is likely to be singing. The Tomatoes, both original and honorary, are cuddling next to you, Wilma being the bigger spoon. This leaves you with two possibilities, either Fiora or the Innkeeper, because there’s no way Odetta can emit any sound that isn’t annoying. Curiosity reigns your mind, and won’t be satiated easily.

All that aside, with this mysterious strength, you’re capable of picking up your phone and seeing the time. It’s almost 5:30 AM. You noticed a message coming from Vera. It’s about the prison break. The preparations are ready for the most part, and you must contact her to get the details. Good! You were planning on focusing on saving Crossbill as soon as possible instead of going to school, even though you should probably go.



Tired or not, you feel like you can do something now.

What do you do?

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>>6092506


You explain all the events that led to the Buffalo, and your concerns about his education! He’s a sentient being who values knowledge and friendship! Animals have rights!

"D-Did you just say that you helped a random bride escape her marriage with millions of dollars by dressing up as the groom, and a 40-something-year-old dressed up as the bride to go along with the ceremony to give her time to escape, and subdue the ire of the groom's billionaire alien family who couldn't bear the humiliation of having said ceremony canceled; then, having succeeded, you and your conspirators went on a fake honeymoon in the mountains, and while they were looking at the stars, some kind of meteor switched everyone's bodies, and one of the bodies was switched with that of a buffalo, and when everyone returned to normal, said buffalo became sentient?! And because you were too tired to move, you decided to ride the buffalo to school to not be late?!" Naturally, Nina is in shock.

“Yeah.” You don’t know why she said everything back to you.

“T-This is pure madness…!” Naturally, Nina continues to be in shock. She’s shoving dessert into her mouth to recover some sanity. You love her funny quirks as long as she doesn’t choke.

What do you do?

>“Will you help the buffalo, Nina? I can ask him to let you ride him!” Bribe the Nina!
>“What about you? Anything interesting happen yesterday?” Be casual.

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>>6092509
>>“Will you help the buffalo, Nina? I can ask him to let you ride him!” Bribe the Nina!
>>
>>6092509
>“Will you help the buffalo, Nina? I can ask him to let you ride him!” Bribe the Nina!
>"We could borrow the Drama Club's prince and princess costumes and wear that while we ride around on him, if that'll help somehow."
>>
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“It’s what happened.” You dryly retort.

“…I’m questioning why this can happen.” Nina can’t be on good terms with the reality she lives in.

“That’s fine. Will you help with the buffalo, Nina?” You think you’ve explained enough. “I can ask him to let you ride him!” You slowly wiggle your eyebrows, you’ll bribe her!

“Do you really think I’m qualified to teach a buffalo…?” Nina’s incredulous look that seems forever etched in her face starts breaking down with her concern for the animal.

“I don’t know a better teacher than you.” You tell no lies. If you’re fair, she doesn’t have much competition.

“T-Thank you, but it doesn’t answer my question.” Nina loves compliments no matter what.

“Nina, I hardly doubt there are enough sentient buffaloes for there to be experts out in the world.” You answer this silly question.

“I-I’m sorry, my disbelief makes me ask irrational questions…” Nina facepalms. “And I’ll get to ride it?”

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>>6092620
Thanks for running!

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ITQ you will buy and sell goods, find a place to live, basic Jobs, and things to do to live through a zombie apocalypse. Zombies are slow. Plenty of things can maim or kill you. Zombie bites can be treated, but there are side effects, or you may screw it up and die. So let's avoid that, ok?
You stand in line among several other people, anonymous faces, you didn't count them. You've not seen them before. Some in shoes, some barefoot, one with a blood stained spear, and all of you hot and dirty from the July heat. You're on the outskirts Northwest of Houston in the shell of what was an old big box store, in the Greens Point area (Guns Point as the locals say). The proprietor has a fan blowing across the line of you, and he has been good enough to put up a pop-up tent outside the entrance to shield everyone from the sunlight, but it must be 99 degrees with all of you crowded together and waiting. On either side of the Line, are cages full of dead eyed ghouls, locked in for now, but watching you.
The Merchant calls out Next and you step up with your goods. You walk up to a bullet proof Plexiglass window with a pass through container, and big sign over the glass stating:
>Jews created the outbreak on borrowed money, No Credit
You are yourself, just yourself. Your actions are your own choice, but the outcome is determined by post ID roll.
Roll for your saleable goods layout by final digit.
Subsequent rerolls to determine simple value, 2nd to last digit = quantity, final digit of simple pass fail 1-5 poor, 6-0 good
1-backpack of junk, can be sorted for valuables
2-live wild animal, must be examined to determine value
3-Clothing, must be checked for damage
4-Food, may be packaged or raw
5-Contraban: cigarettes, alcohol, pornography, drugs
6-Weapons: may be functional, broken parts
7-Ammunition: may be boxed or loose, good or bad
8-Medicine: may be prescription or over the counter

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>>6105119
Wyatt hops on the radio with an addendum: "Just throw yer unwanted corpses in that thar FedEx drop box!"
Also, maybe try to see if there's any funny business with other businesses on the way in between, like Just Juice, Victor's Painting Service or Modern Food Store
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>>6105282
>>6105119
>>6105282
>>6105044
You opt for the truth. At least you'll be able to keep your story consistent.
>we's coming from a feller, what said he'd pay us to check out that ther fire. He's a busy man, eh er, business that were, a business man.
This last description, draws silence from the two. You can't see their faces and watch the road. But you can hear that the rattling of cartidges, and the winding stops briefly, when you bring up commerce.

The Slav, has lost his bracing in the open doorway, (0) and not buckled up. But otherwise, nothing has happened to him.

You turn down Northborough and drive without obstruction for a block (5). The streets are mostly clear.

After announcing your presence and destination, the radio is briefly silent.

A man's voice comes on the radio

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>>6106475
"iAy caramba!"
>double back for the Slav
>ask the 2 gunners to help
>turn 360 and drive away
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>>6106563
You try to turn the wheel, try to do a U-turn, (6) but the street is too narrow, clogged with debris and wreckage. There's not enough space for two vehicles to drive in parallel, and your truck, this ambulance, is like the Rascal Wrangler's it used to shuttle to walmart and to Dialysis, an unforgivable fatass.

>fella's that ol' bruiser just fell out in the road, we've gotta back an get em'

Ray of the men throws open the back door and exits, (5) while Andy covers him with the scoped rifle.

Your passenger door flank remains Unguarded.

Looking at the massing mob ahead of you, you can see that there is no quick exit (6), no clear path out of this mess.

The slav, thankfully decked out in his riot gear, tries to
>focus
>guard himself
>stand

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>>6107458
>Fortress in the ambulance
>Down the bottle of gin >>6095631 and pop a couple pills >>6095751
>Haphazardly drive-by whomp the zambies with my implements, mailbox style
"This one's fer you, Jim Bob!"

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The Nation of Ferrovia has fractured with the death of king Harold with three successor states and a bandit kingdom now fighting over the nation's future. King Elric, the king's brother backed by the landed nobility of the country, wages war in hopes of holding up the monarchy and by connection with the landed gentry. As he styles himself now Lord protector Baric attempts to halt the Monarchists and reformists from harming the status quo with the backing of the army his force is small but well trained and armed. The last of the main contenders is Queen Meredith the sole child of King Harold and devout reformist backed by merchants democrats and communists alike she must lead this dispraite force to victory.
You are Sir Edmund ”The Crow” Drayton, a recently Knighted Yeoman, the leader of the small monarchist sub faction of the reformists. The capital city of Ironhaven burns as your men wrench control of the tightly packed city from the junta's hands. The junta navy burns in the port as its reformist counterpart proudly sails into the port. The Junta forces have all fallen back to the center of the city where they are surrounded intent on not giving up the home of your Queen without a fight.

Past threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=BrinkQM
It's taken a few days and quite the number of casualties but you're finally ready for a proper assault against the palace district. The Navy has seen fit to shuttle several infantry divisions into the city from the port and have seen to resupplying your men. The men are worn down but eager to finally end the bloody fighting. Your tanks rumble idly in the streets as your infantry hide in buildings from the misty rain that blankets the city Its time to decide how you will take the palace.

>push directly at the palace in a spearhead
>push all angles at once
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>>6106747
>>participate in the trials
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>>6106747
>participate in the trials
Lets try to prevent the Romanovs slaughter kangaroo court edition if we can. (Regardless yeah zero sympathy for the Uncle)
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>>6106747
>>participate in the trials
Need the crown population to stay high so we aren't the only count in the nation.
>>
The few weeks wait for the trials to begin seems to go quickly until the day arrives and you travel to the Nevefar courthouse where Prince Elric and his three sons Albrecht, the sickly Markus and the youngest Alan. They all look somewhat worn down as they are seated in the stands for the accused. The judges were made up of one military lawyer, a civilian judge and finally surprisingly Mr Baker. The is a fourth chair up by the other three judges meant for the Queen but it seems she's chosen to not attend. You yourself are considered a state witness alongside many other officers and are sat on a half of the courtroom specified for the prosecution. Mr Baker, as the highest ranking person of the court, stands clearing his throat and begins to read off a sheet of paper. “Prince Elric you and your sons are charged with the crimes of inciting a Rebellion, attempted regicide, murder and mass murder of those entrusted to you by the crown. How do you plead?” The aging prince stands “Not guilt it is not a crime to fight a thief and a liar like my niece” Mr Baker snorts at the outburst “This court will like to begin the proceedings with the prosecution's witnesses. Would anyone like to volunteer at this time?”

>volunteer
>let others another go first
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>>6107402
>let others another go first

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Once, the land of Pavilion was nothing more than a barren land, of empty waste and rock. Then the spark of life flared up. Roots rendered rock into soil. The hot lands cooled and rain fell. Great rivers rolled from the mountains, filling the great lake at the center of the land. Thick swamps, great forests, and expansive grasslands filled the land. Soon after the people of Pavilion rose up, each stranger than the last, guided by gods and spirits, wielders of magic and metal. Tribes became nations, nations became empires, and empires became tribes once again. The current age opens on a collection of tribes and nations poised at the beginning of a new era, where they may rise into great empires...or fall into oblivion. Shepherd your people, make love or war, and create a nation that stands the test of time!

This is a freeform NRP. The rules are minimal and mostly QM-determined. The emphasis is on roleplay and characterization. QMs reserve the right to change judgements, make final decisions, and forbid further argumentation. If you have questions, feel free to ask them here or in our discord using the invite code: F2Patcf

Remember, losing is fun and winning is gay!

Submissions are open to all, with a maximum player count of 17. To submit a nation, please use the following template:

>Civilization/Race Name:
>Capital Name:
>Brief Summary of Nation:
>Optional Fluff:

Please also attach an image of your preferred starting location


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>>6106551
>It is well and truly known by every soul that ever dabbled with the arts that to halt a ritual mid-cast is to invite chaotic disaster upon oneself, as evidenced by the Night Of Dancing Shadows[1]. But as it is the case with any study not dabbling in forbidden Lumancy, we are impelled to test for every such case.
>It is my firm belief that chaos is naught but a name given to that which we refuse to brave deciphering, lest we invite disaster upon ourselves. Had we held ourselves to such limitation so zealously since times immemorial, we would yet to have discovered how to produce and tame fire.
>It is that line of thinking that compelled the attempt to see what would happen should one cease the casting of the rite of Tenebrism just after the shadow was animate, but afore it embraced its owner. Without a suitable host, the shadow would begin acting out of turn with its owner, occasionally attempting communication through gestures and motions. When provided with a suitable host after -the darker the better- it would slowly suffuse into its shadow, and in time, become able to influence the body through its own shadow. A doll could be made to dance, a rock could be made to roll uphill, and a blasted Medqa could be made to cease its consumption of a tired scholar's scrolls.
>Effects on more intelligent hosts have yet to be studied as the council refuses to risk attracting undue attention until the issue with Rive Mudamir[2] was deciphered. Moste vexing, particularly as it slows attempts to understand the strange affection possessed Medqa and other beasts show to their suffusers, but such is the burden of intellect.
>Of interest is that further performance of the rite of Tenebrism on such shadow-possessed hosts would cause the suffused shadow to first separate, and then for the host's shadow to animate.
>Of further interest is that such suffusion seems to drain a shadow of its size in every consecutive possession, though not with length of every single suffusion. A subject whose shadow had possessed eleven hosts had its shadow reduced to the size of a child, while one who had possessed a single host for a longer amount of time had barely any change to show once separated. The former subject refused to participate in the experiment further for fear of losing its shadow completely causing it to similarly lose the ability to undergo the rite of Tenebrism and become an honored Shadow.
>By my next book, I will have hopefully obtained test subjects without the right to refuse such noble sacrifice in the name of knowledge.
1. "Farces And Triumphs In The Arts: Vol 1"
2. "Intermediate Fumancy"
- Stige Sukon
"Theory of Magimancy: Chapter 3"
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>>6105363

Action 1: Hohenholm Forge

A grand forge quarter is assembled to keep the Polymyria busy. These many limbed amalgams can grow restless if not given a steady supply of gruelling labour to undertake, this new forge shall provide that for them.

Copper and tin are brought together above a fire lit by plentiful coal, grand crucibles of molten metal are wrought up, spilling their bronze contents into casts and moulds, at least six at a time for the smallest crucibles.

Tool-heads, armour plates, spear tips, horseshoes, nails, poles, cutlery and so much more, all manner of objects are forged here, hammered into shape, ground down, polished, finished and thrown into the appropriate piles.

With such a steady supply of high quality bronze the first dedicated military units begin forming, equipped with arms and armour of fine bronze and stationed along the northern and western borders.
Menia make up the bulk of this force, though they are physically unimpressive they are loyal, fearless and excellent at following orders.
Their rather similar bodies mean that armour can be mass produced to a “Menia standard” rather than customised for each soldier.
Equipment is made for large Polymyria and dangerous Cavia that can pose a significant threat to a potential foe, while the Seeria find great success in scout roles and armed with sturdy crossbows (alas, their stubby arms are unfit for wielding bows).


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>>6106962
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>>6105363
>Action 1: The prospect of further resources.
The find of Starmetal was grand and glorious, but in such a discovery we found something of too high quality to be generally distributed. And so the searchers and prospectors set back to their work once more, combing the ground and countryside of the Orcmanie in the search for further ores.

>Action 2: The Long Draw
With metal limited, what is to be done for the common Orcman; levied to war in support of his leige and lord? The forested lands of the Orcmanie hold no shortage in trees to be coppiced and carved to our will and whim, and our ancestry brings the arm-strength of the Orc together with the dexterity and long-sight of Man. It is therefore to the Bow that we turn; the woodcarvers giving in to their instincts to 'make it larger' and crafting Longbows, to outrange what had come before and crafting weapons of power and precision - especially useful if we are ever called upon to face great flocks of 'birds'. But to use the longbow effectively, the training of the user is as important as the implement itself. And so, Archery Butts are instructed to be established in each village by the lords of the realm; with stipends and relief from certain duties granted to those who regularly show and practice for at least one day out of every seven.
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>>6105363
Report on Lesser Activities to Cyra, Noreusper of Guliseare, executioner of Thessa, bane of Kaenum, unifier of the Aripan, Ruler of all the hallowed mountains, Aelelox's chosen prophet, most blessed and holy Aripan to fly upon the skies and walk upon the earth.

A group of lessers have, once again, marched into our territory and, once again, peacefully were driven off. They seem to be of the same species as the Barzaentines as those lessers we made a deal with called themselves. However, they were oddly all female in contrast to their eastern neighbor. It is quite possible these lessers so similar to us chose only their men or women to fight as opposed to both for some reason. Of particular importance however is a recent report from the Moivadal about the Barzaentines marching to war. Some other group of lessers has gained their ire. Details are scarce at this moment in time but I will inform you as soon as I have further to report from our loyal Reconorie.

Your faithful servant, Kallixeina.

>Action One. Fortifications around Sonistia

Sonistia is but a stone's throw away from lessers who have their own fortifications so close to our lands. This clear threat can go unanswered no longer and as such our holy capital is to be made an impenetrable fortress. Our lands will hold firm against any invader with our faith alone. But better to build high walls and towers so fewer faithful die in it's defense. Fortunate hewn stone can far more easily be acquired lately thanks to the wise investments made by Cyra, scourge of heretics, one above all mortals, creator of Guliseare, visionary of the republic, titles, titles more titles...

>Action Two. Formation of the Pendirumo.

There are multiple lessers whom seek to hide behind high walls. While our form of defenses are similar and they serve well in blocking lesser from crossing, these defenses are laughably easy for us to overcome. However, those of heavier equipment are unable to fly and easily gain access to the walls. As such, methods to solve this issue are needed, and the easiest is simply to take key entryways and cause havoc behind these walls. Skirmishers and light infantry well trained for this purpose can cause a major distraction and cripple a fort either through taking key positions quietly in the night, burning supplies in a castle with a skillful raid, or just assist in a main assault. Regardless of the task at hand, they will do wonders in making any siege less problematic for the faithful. These forces will be called Pendirumo. And they will be great support to our forces much like the Reconorie.

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The sky rings with the crack of cannonfire. The earth shudders beneath marching feet. The stench of ink, blood - sugar and gold. Many peoples struggle for life in the shadow of pike and musket - you are one of them.

>Pick a race. Any civ-race you can think of.
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>>6089645
>>6089656

Your shamans know the land - the land holds the bones of your ancestors - you need no other wise-men to speak poison words to you, and no civilised land to sap your strength and let your hooves grow long and brittle. The boy is not lifted on a litter, as the monks might have had him, nor starved in the dark to grow feral and furious, as the northerners might. He will grow as boys grow, and become a man as men do, even while his wisdom is called on to settle disputes. The shamans and warriors who respect his claim to incarnation will act as his hands until his own have the strength of manhood.

News of the khitar, who has come to be known as Al-Hüraeg, "the eye of heaven", spreads quickly. Outriders herding sheep, isolated clansfolk foraging, men and women trading kin for marriage - the neighbouring clans come to hear of the incarnation. Most are doubtful, but some come looking. Exiles, poor huntsmen and widows come to behold him - the first decision of the shamans and warriors in council about Al-Hüraeg is what to do with the flow of pilgrims.

>Welcome them in. Through the eye of heaven pours light- your clan will grow stronger with more bodies.
>Deny them. The ancestor came to you. You are chosen - not them.
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>>6089702
>Welcome them in
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>>6089702
>Welcome them in. Through the eye of heaven pours light- your clan will grow stronger with more bodies.
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>>6089702
>>Welcome them in. Through the eye of heaven pours light- your clan will grow stronger with more bodies.
>>
>>6089702
>Welcome them in. Through the eye of heaven pours light- your clan will grow stronger with more bodies.

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This is a fanfiction continuation of Far from Terra by ASS from where it left off. Blame /qtg/ for awakening my nostalgia. Yes, it's been four years. I'm attempting it anyways.

You're Fern, a pipsqueak of a human from the acid oceans of Ghast with huge balls, joined by your gorgeous Amazonian squeeze Dijana, your Tyranid dog-gun Bubbles, and a pair of Servitors.

Archives of the original: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=far+from+terra

---

>20: Suprise
As you fly off in your miniature voidship, the Manta, trying to get to Ojal-Prime the casino-moon, the vessel tries to sink itself into the warp with its archeotech. But something happens, the ship midway through the thundering, fleshy gash in reality.

"Error- Recalculating" flashes holographically on the windows, as it continued to hurdle through the deep, cavernous portal of mixed dimensions by its own momentum. "Recalculating - Recalculating - Recalculating"

"New destination found. Emergency reroute."


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>>6086427
> Try to find some uninhabited island, floating heap of trash, anything - and park there for now.
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>>6086427
> Try to find some uninhabited island, floating heap of trash, anything - and park there for now.
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>>6086427
> Try to find some uninhabited island, floating heap of trash, anything - and park there for now
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>>6086427
> Get your servitors, Dijana and Bubbles ready for combat and land right here.

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A LISA-inspired Quest.

Rabid animals, men without sense, motherless dogs beyond salvation and god!
They are the libertine dwellers of the mount of cement; the inglorious survivors of the red desert. A dried plain, deader than the very cemetery, colored with impregnating red from the anal blood of the raped, and perpetually polluted by the lying cocks of the castrated rapists.

The absence of women was not perpetual, they came back; like rabid bitches they hide within scarcity, and howl by the imaginary rivers, beyond canine sight.
Usurpers of dignity will not care to be bitten by their venomous mouths. And not from fear, as much as out of pure disinterest. The lack of women across time, the heat; it was too much to bear for the willess men who simply barked for a stick to bite. And in their solitude and hunger, the loveless found love wherever it had hidden amongst their fellows.
Addicted and enamored by the aboriginal orifice, the joy and the pain managed to outlive the scarcity of cunt until it showed its face on earth again. And “Why are you here when we need you the least?”, they asked.

Survival, battle, victory; they are temporal and scarce joys within the desert of cement, and despite the taste of glory and power they concede with such flavourful disdain, they quite never quite get rid of the taste of salt and testicles from one’s gob.

The only name you know is the one your mother gave you, and you accept it like an ingrate, Antonio Zepeda, a low name of nobody, without grace and without merit of any kind. Embrace it with fear and shame, because that’s all you got, lest you’d be glad not to be known as “The moron”, “The dense” or “The raped”.

Dogs without God it’s a drawquest set in a desert scarce of cunt and abundant with men. The players will be the reflection of the dog’s mind and impulses. Choices will be decided through cumulative voting; beware that impulsivity might affect the amount of votes needed for something to happen. The arguments you explore through your voting will affect the outcome.
Individual players can ask custom questions about an enemy or situation, however, doing so will consume fractions of time available to act. Not every action will be as urgent, not every danger will wait for you to figure them out, and trying to uncover the truth behind someone’s parents divorce might not be as easy.

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>>6099835
>>Run.
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>>6099843
think my ip reseted from deleting cookies.. its a bit slightly over, ill have to make a new thread
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>>6103323
nevermind, we are so back!

Since we only got one vote i'll draw that choice.
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>>6099843

>>Run.
You escape successfully!

The soles of your shoes clash against the desertic soil. And one after another your steps howl and echo across the vast *nothing*.
.. . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. .... . . .. ..

–"And then?"

Then,
there's silence.


You feel the cold sweat falling from your brow. Drops awaiting to boil through the heat of the biosphere. Feeling important enough to torment your eye balls as they fade - "A potent death" - They think.

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>>6104613
>I killed The Lard. Will i ever see the other two again?

Quest’s Summary: You play as Pangea, the daughter of The Emperor created to be an emotional support for the primarchs after Malcador convinced the Emperor that the primarchs, while powerful, are ultimately human. Pangea would act as a way to secure the primarch’s loyalty to The Emperor by having the primarchs relying Pangea as their emotional support… if Pangea remains loyal that is.

Thread 1: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6052620/

Bucephelus.

Instead of voidsmen-at-arms, custodians guarded the giant halls. Ceramite shimmered in every corner. Sharp edges and sleek arches decorated the halls, the sign of the Aquila bore in every corner. Tiny clicks and clacks echoed, engines hummed as the techpriests maintained the machines in their strange rituals.

—This is your first time leaving Segmentum Solar, are you nervous?—

“A little.” Pangea said.

The Emperor of Mankind and Pangea sat across from each other at a long table. Pangea still remembered as a child she wanted nothing but Father’s attention. Yet, upon realizing what she was made for, and his attention once Horus had been found, not to mention Alpharius’s advice… A tiny bud of ugly jealousy and infectious doubt rose, hiding beneath a myriad of other emotions.*

—And how is the food?—

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>>6107303
>Are you asking permission to do a time skip? Because that is a tough one.

More like getting a feel of the players. I'd stay out of 40k if the votes are overwhelmingly opposing it.
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>>6107246
I thought we were here to learn more about the Sisters of Silence?
>Write-in
"Iai, I simply wish to know more about you and your order. If a Sister of Silence is to be my bodyguards then I need to know what all of you are capable of. If you will not let me inside to get the knowledge I seek, then I will have you answer my questions."
And then we proceed to bombard her with questions like "who would win in a fight, a Custodian or a Sister of Silence?", "Is it possible to learn this power?", "What's your favourite food?", "Why are you all bald?", and etc.
I don't know what the people who voted for this choice wanted to learn from the Sisters of Silence, so.

>Would you want this to be 30k only or would you like Pangea to be part of 40k where the heresy did happen (albeit differently)?
That would depend on how we do here. It's always nice to see the result of our actions.

>If it did, how do you see Pangea's return?
If Pangea stay loyal and the same as she is now, I can imagine her charging off after some of the traitor Primarch and getting herself stuck in the warp/webway until Alpharius or someone dragged her out. I can also see her fighting alongside the Emperor during the Webway Project breach and and sacrificing herself to help seal it from the others side/taking Ra's place and running off with the Drach'nyen.
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>>6107246
>>6107304
I'm fine with
>Pangea gritted her teeth, but walked away.
as long as we don't stare lasers into Llun and come back with a better attitude tomorrow. Maybe someone else will be on shift.

>>6107399
We're not talking to Iai, but Llun right now.

>>6107307
I'm going to be honest, I'm really curious to see what would start a civil war equivalent to the Horus Heresy if Chaos is out of the picture and none of the Primarchs fall to it.
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>>6107246
>Pangea gritted her teeth, but moved forward, not caring what Llun might try.
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>>6107246
>>Pangea gritted her teeth, but walked away.

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(First quest. Expect fuckups. More concrete stats/character sheet/data as we go.)

You are an unremarkable mortal. You LURK on imageboards and CONSUME fictional media.

While you've read and watched through many series, the conceit of "JoJo's Bizarre Adventure" has always enthralled you, compensating exposure to ABSURDITY and even BLOODSHED with fantastic powers reflecting one's SOUL. While you are up to date on the original manga (from the beginning to the latest installment, the JOJOLANDS), the anime adaptation, and even spin-off material, there is one story arc cemented in your head as your very FAVORITE.
[roll 1d9 for your favorite part, will choose the mode]

You are only vaguely aware of your background as you regain consciousness. You are slumped against a stone wall. It's pretty dark, and there are unfamiliar sounds and lights in the distance. The night air is warm and a bit dusty. You can just about make out you're in some sort of alleyway.

You manage to get to your feet. You start to remember piddling little details like your NAME, AGE, ORIGIN, and...

...Wait.

Your eyes trail a long shadow on the ground up to the distance, where it's cast by a tall silhouette. Someone is approaching you. It's a man with a bird on his shoulder, but it doesn't take the foreknowledge of a BIZARRE loremaster to realize that it's no mere man and no mere bird.


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(Took longer than expected, was away where the only available networks had rangebans on them.)

While curled up in your soul unsummoned, the scintillating imprint of your Stand remains in your sight, like air warping in extreme heat.

It's made of fractal patterns and alters its surroundings likewise, you know that, and you remember doing an extra credit assignment for a math class on how fractal patterns are found throughout nature.

And you remember that, you do, but whatever slunk out of your spirit feels unnatural, alien, yet can split matter to selfsame copies...

You're also alien to this world, you remember. Now the pieces click into place. The arpeggiating melody and design, both straight out of a Carpenter movie.

"『Jenova』 is its name." A 'calamity' from beyond the sky. "J-E-N-O-V-A."

No one here but you will know the reference for at least a decade. (Extra motivation to keep Terrence around to see his reaction to a masterpiece of gaming.)

"Not after the Italian city, then?" DIO asks. You are about to answer but Enya interjects for you.

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>>6107239
>Discuss the known timeline of events with DIO. Now that you passed the Arrow's test, you need to prepare for the near future, and stop a bunch of people from dying. Maybe he can be swayed to an alternate solution to avoid bloodshed with the Joestars, but that would require contacting and convincing them too. Not to mention preventing or curing at least two cases of Stand fever (Holly and Josuke) without killing DIO, the source...
Right, there's a lot to dig into with this. DIO might be able to end the fever here and now by severing his head and transferring himself to a new body, allowing Jonathan's body to rest and deactivating its effect on the bloodline in the process - I want to get that right out into the open. He would lose Jonathan's stand in the process, but I think it's a good bet.
But he's not going to WANT to abandon Jonathan's body. He respects Jonathan. He feels he earned this body. So we offer him a better one, a body superior to any Human's. Who's? Santana's. He's currently in the possession of the Speedwagon Foundation, trapped in a body of stone. If he can steal Santana and decapitate him, perhaps using a stand to render him incapable of thought lest his body try to absorb DIO, then he could have the body of a Pillar Man instead of a mere human. It's drastic, yes, but I can't imagine he would go for ANY other body otherwise, and it's like a 50% chance of deleting the stand sickness on the Joestars.
And once his mother is cured, Jotaro suddenly has a LOT less incentive to go out and stop DIO.
We can at least field this idea to DIO to see if he'd be willing to go for it. It would go a long way towards avoiding total DIO death.
We'd probably have to tell him more about pillar men, their role in the plot when he was sleeping, and maybe about how they developed the stone masks and ultimately ended up finding a way to transcend their limits with the red ajah. We'll see how much he needs for convincing.
>>
>>6107239
>>Discuss the known timeline of events with DIO. Now that you passed the Arrow's test, you need to prepare for the near future, and stop a bunch of people from dying. Maybe he can be swayed to an alternate solution to avoid bloodshed with the Joestars, but that would require contacting and convincing them too. Not to mention preventing or curing at least two cases of Stand fever (Holly and Josuke) without killing DIO, the source...
>>
>>6107239
>Discuss the known timeline of events with DIO. Now that you passed the Arrow's test, you need to prepare for the near future, and stop a bunch of people from dying. Maybe he can be swayed to an alternate solution to avoid bloodshed with the Joestars, but that would require contacting and convincing them too. Not to mention preventing or curing at least two cases of Stand fever (Holly and Josuke) without killing DIO, the source...
>>
>>6107239
>>Discuss the known timeline of events with DIO. Now that you passed the Arrow's test, you need to prepare for the near future, and stop a bunch of people from dying. Maybe he can be swayed to an alternate solution to avoid bloodshed with the Joestars, but that would require contacting and convincing them too. Not to mention preventing or curing at least two cases of Stand fever (Holly and Josuke) without killing DIO, the source...


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