This board is for author-driven collaborative storytelling (i.e., "Quests"). In a quest there is a single author who controls the plot of the story and who drives the creative process. They can choose to take suggestions from other posters, or not, at their sole discretion. Quests can be text-based, image-based, or a combination of the two. Drawfaggotry is strongly encouraged!To facilitate the author-driven nature of quests, /qst/ differs significantly from other boards in that the OP of a thread is considered the quest's author, and has some basic text formatting abilities: [b]bold[/b], [i]italic[/i], and color tags [red]red[/red], [green]green[/green], and [blue]blue[/blue]. Therefore, only those people willing to put in the effort to be a quest author should post threads. If you do not intend to run a collaborative story, do not post a thread here! This includes meta-threads.Dice rolling follows /tg/'s format (e.g., "dice+2d6" without the quotes in the options field rolls 2d6).
Current board settings:Anyone can post images.Anyone can use painter.Anyone can use dice & spoilers.Only OP can use text formatting.3000 character limit.750 bump limit.Decreased post timer to match /tg/ (30 seconds for text, 60 seconds for an image reply).Automatic permasage after 72 hours.Thread specific user IDs.Max threads per IP is 5.Standard 7 day internal archive.
[Illusion of a quest AKA ONE SHOT.]The eternal malice of the sun bothers you from a long and weary sleep.You open your eyes for the first time.The world appears boundless and without form.You open your mouth and let out no vagitus to rend the air.The horizon is empty and full of opportunities.You are but a newborn and yet it is not hard to stand.Let's begin.
>>6350881>LOOK
>LOOK BACKWhere you started is indistinct as each part of the world to another except where you reckon it to be.You might be the only person to remember where this place (is/will be/remains).It's comforting in a strange and lonesome way.>Maybe it was a SAA Colt afterall?>'Huh, I guess this snub is actually a Colt Peacemaker?'The first syllable dislodges itself, then the rest of the words fall out and tumble into place."Huh... I guess this snub is actually a Colt Peacemaker?"The sound of your own (voice/timbre/potency) startles you.You were unsure you had it to begin with.However, you certainly have one now.Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.
>>6351040What do you want to...>LOOK>TOUCH>SHOOT+>TALK>REMEMBER (ONE USE REMAINS)>WRITE IN?One day, 4chan(nel) will have a fucking preview post function.
>>6351040>Unload it. Then reload it. Then do it again.>Then again>Then disassemble it and reassemble it >Then unload it and reload it. >Then toss a coin in the air and hit it with all six bullets before it hits the ground in an ostentatious display of marksmanship>Remember how you learned to do that...
>>6351040>Remember the enemySomething to shoot.
It's March 1945, you hear about a job in a kind of ‘secret city.’ You don't know what the hell these people are talking about, but it looks promising, even too good to be true. Still, you don't have much to lose after the Great War, so you take the opportunity. After going through a lot of paperwork and a few other things, in less than a week you're put on a ship with no name and no clear destination. They just told you, ‘It's in the middle of the sea.’Less than two weeks ago, you were a poor idiot living on the bare minimum, and now you're still a poor idiot, but now you're on a ship heading for ‘the city of the future’. You'd heard of its founder, Andrew Ryan, a rather unique man who was quite crazy about his ideals, which is nothing new in this world.A couple of shitty days go by. You weren't used to such long boat trips, but you forced yourself to get used to it. The food on the boat is shit, but at least it's better than whatever you could scavenge from the rubbish. One cold morning, you've lost track of time, sleeping in rooms the size of mouse holes, crammed in with a few other poor idiots like you, seeking a future in an uncertain city. A bell begins to ring, and the ship's crew start shouting announcements: "We've arrived!’ You look out the window and all you can see is sea as far as the eye can see. You run with the crowd to the upper deck.The crew continue to shout ‘we have arrived’. This is when you see it: an enormous lighthouse, a huge tower, an effigy in the middle of the gigantic and infinite ocean, a shining golden tower rising above the waves. A submarine appears out of nowhere from the darkness of the ocean, and the ship's officers make preparations to board the submarine.
>>6350885>>6350818>>6350689>>6350671Something about the bar catches your attention, so you go inside. It's a rustic bar, and the first thing you notice is the faint smell of liquor and drunkenness, but it doesn't stink like a tavern. Almost everything is made of polished wood: tables, chairs, seats. You slowly walk past the tables while the drunkards continue drinking and talking among themselves. You approach the bar, which is the only thing not made of wood but rather perfectly carved limestone adapted for the bar. In front of you is the barman, a tall, muscular man with his shirt rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tattooed arms. He is bald with a small moustache on his strong face. You look directly at the barman, who maintains his stoic expression as he cleans the glasses while Claudine Armėliny's Habanera plays on the bar's record player. The silence is broken by a sob coming from a couple of seats away, a hunched man with his face almost buried in the stone bar. You notice he has a glass of what looks like whisky in his hands, his face is red, his hair is dishevelled, and his suit is completely rumpled, looking as if the guy had been grabbed and dragged through the mud. As you sit down at the bar, the bartender notices your presence for the first time. ‘Good evening, miss. What can I get you?’ The man speaks in a passive, calm tone with his thick, hoarse voice. He slowly moves his face, opening his eyes to look directly at you. His beautiful navy blue eyes lock with yours. "Hmmm... You look like you're new here, aren't you?‘ He slowly closes his eyes again and you slowly feel as if your soul is returning to your body. ’Can I offer you a Sloe Gin Fizz or a Manhattan to warm up the night a little? What do you think?" he says kindly, being helpful and giving you the best service.What should you do: > Drink a Manhattan > Drink a Sloe Gin Fizz > Order a martini Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.
>>6350999>> Drink a Manhattan
>>6350999> Drink a ManhattanFeels like it'd be our girl's drink of choice
>>6350999> Drink a Sloe Gin Fizz This sounds tastier and funnier
>>6350999>Drink a Manhattan
Your name is Harold Eadric, and you’ve just signed up for war.You don’t quite know what it is about, but at this point, you will take anything to get out of your village. Years you have been longing to become a man of the world, yet your circumstances have never allowed you to venture much farther than your local village with a name you cannot pronounce. At least you have been able to read stories about the world, and they only made you want to get out of this town more.Sucks then, that your existence up to this point has mostly been concerned with growing wheat. There isn’t much else you can do in this village, really – if you didn’t plough the fields, you’d have a hard time finding anything to eat during winter. So you wasted your childhood away in the drudgery of this eternal routine, just like your father, grandfather and those before him had. All the while, you hoped you’d find a chance to get out. And just as you had recently turned into your eighteenth year, fortune struck."The King is looking for brave men to join the Fight against the treacherous Laumey de Galamad! His men have attacked and slaughtered our people! Answer the King's call and join his armies!"Your family had protested, your mother had cried when you packed your stuff and left the home and fields which had formed the entirety of your existence up until now – it was all in vain. There you were, speaking to the man in his tent; having mentioned your literacy and fitness brought on you by your years in the fields, he now requested… something else? Something else you could do? You already mentioned literacy, didn’t you?
The market square had once again changed completely since you left it. Now being completely surrounded by the townspeople themselves, the mood had changed from fury to a spite which was now directed at whatever was happening on the market square. The sergeant started pushing the spectators aside, mincing few words in his brash attempts to see what was happening up front. The townspeople hurriedly responded, veering off to the sides as the sneers and shoves of this stout man-at-arms carved a path straight to the centre of the action.Having found your way to the front of the (this time much larger) audience, you saw a grotesque scene of punishment unfold right in front of you. The remains of the stalls had been roughly assembled into a large scaffold on which your fellow recruits were being forced to stand in line, being hit and lashed by various utensils and sticks. Dishing out this punishment were still the same vengeful merchants, torturing your fellow recruits while the crowd cheered them on. You felt like this was far from the first time a group of recruits had acted inappropriately towards these merchants and that this was the first time they could finally get a proper round of retribution. It seemed the whole town agreed – looking around you, you saw the merchants’ emotions reflected in the faces of the audience which was loudly chanting obscenities. Some even went as far as throwing small rocks at your comrades.It wasn’t going to be like that for much longer, though. Not if the sergeant had anything to do with it. You saw the man’s face first go white from shock, mumbling what you assumed were various curses, swears and other uncouth exclamations. When colour returned to his face it slowly began to turn red, until, brimming with anger, he released a shout that stopped the entire square dead in its tracks.Walking towards the scaffold, the sergeant launched into an enraged tirade, launching various scolding insults at the crowd while threatening the merchants with the divine punishment of the King himself if they even so much as a thought of continuing their deranged behaviour. Drawing his sword in his fit of rage, he knocked one of the supporting beams of the scaffold out of place with the flat side of his blade. This quickly broke the makeshift structure, causing its entire load of merchants and recruits to fall or slide down onto the pavement. Grabbing one of the merchants by their black collars, the sergeant began loudly screaming into the man’s face, making the man quiver and slink back into his overcoat. It wasn’t long before the soldiers joined him on the scene, helping the mildly bruised and battered recruits off the scaffold while shooting lethal glares at the other merchants. Around this time, the audience began to disappear, probably fearing the impending repercussions for their part in the riot.
In the end the sergeant wrote up a royal decree for the merchants, requiring the town to pay double its war taxes for a year along with supplying any medical necessities the army required while staying in or around Long Aircliffe without charge. With that done, the recruits were marched out of the town. The merchants would think twice before hurting a recruit again.<><><><>You didn’t expect “telling the superiors” to be a move which made you popular. On the contrary, you expected it to be much more effective at making everyone in this camp resent you.However when you came back to camp and the cooks rolled in with the lunch provisions, you were lauded by the Bowlanders as their saviour. Even though you felt like you didn’t actually do much in the situation, you decided to roll with it nonetheless. Your new acquaintances were mostly fine, with some minor bruising sustained during their time on the scaffold. You learned that this time was actually rather short due to your timely arrival with the soldiers. Robin was the one who caught the most bruises, volunteering to stand in front of the others to absorb most of the punishment – something for which Morris especially thanked him repeatedly. Meanwhile Leonard was still in disbelief, stating he had really thought that you just left him and the rest to the whims of the merchants and that he couldn’t thank you enough for coming back. Evin was rather silent, nudging you to just get some food on your plate. To her credit, you had almost forgotten to with all the commotion happening around you.The northerners who were wounded most were immediately taken care of, being laid down in a makeshift infirmary while assigned medics tended to their wounds. Though their wounds looked fearsome when they were stumbling out of town, the medics soon told you that most of them will have recovered within a month. They would have to stay behind, though – the boats would not be stable enough to ferry them without causing a significant risk to their healing process.<><><><>
The boat’s rocking was not doing you well. Though you were far from suffering from any sea sickness, you were beginning to feel the consequences of your mile-long sprint earlier. Your legs were aching when you moved them, and you had trouble staying on your feet while the boat gently swayed on the rippling river waters.On this boat you thankfully would never have to stand much at all, though: sitting on your rowing benches, you were getting entranced by the continuous rhythm of your oars plunging into the river’s dark green waters. Your boat was one of the five long boats which held a sizeable number of oars on each side of their flat hull. The boats were much quicker than you thought, repeatedly passing by those walking on the road which still ran parallel to the river. Next to you was Leonard, trying his best to assist you with the large oar. His tall posture made the rowing significantly harder for him though, having to pull the long wooden stick over his knees as the short legroom forced him to fold his legs into the rest of his body. You found his appearance like this rather comical, but decided to not make any mention of it. He’d already been through enough today.Instead, you once again contented yourself with looking at the passing landscape, which went through another one of its transformations before your very eyes. The stone walls from earlier were supplanted by thick hedges, which started to become more and more prevalent in divvying up the land. You also began to see lines of trees start to run alongside the roads, intersecting the patchwork of farmland that clad the slight gradient of these hills with lines of darker green. The crops themselves also started to change: where before you had only seen wheat and the occasional field of cows, the country was now filled by various plants you were unfamiliar with, along with a large amount of fields that held only sheep. While you looked in awe at the land that changed with each panorama, you were covering large distances – before you knew it, the afternoon was coming to a close. While you were rowing past a field in which rows of trees extended as far as the eye could see, the rowers were ordered to a halt.All recruits were ordered to get off the boats, each boat being steered towards a small pier that was attached to the road next to the waterside. Looking in front of you, you saw a series of large barriers which seemed to stop the river in its tracks. You were told that these were machines called locks, and that the soldiers were going to work all the boats through them to get onto another river. In the meantime, all recruits were ordered to set up camp on a little field next to the other side of the locks. Because of the delay suffered due to the incident in Long Aircliffe, you had to make one more stop before you were delivered to the Royal Army Academy of Lintford.<><><><>
It had been a while since the recruits had set up camp. After a couple times of doing so before, you had become rather proficient at setting it all up yourselves: even the cooks commended the recruits on the sturdiness with which their quarters were set up before starting their work on that night’s dinner.While the sun was slowly beginning to set, you were sitting around a small fire with the small group that had quickly become a customary unit throughout the day. Through bragging and banter, you were sharing the experiences you had during the miles spent on the boats. Leonard was still busy stretching his legs – his poor limbs had remained folded for about five hours on the boats, and he lamented the prospect of having to spend another day rowing in the arduous position. Robin pulled the remains of this morning’s bounty out of his knapsack, giving you all a small treat before the rationed dinner that was still hours away. At some point, Morris took a bet that he’d be able to get some food out of the orchard you had seen earlier: though none of you had much money left (or, in your case, any to begin with), he still managed to get some pledges from his comrades. Two particularly eager betters were Simon Carter and Mira Palmer, both betting against eachother on whether Morris would make it out with any loot. Simon promised he’d try and make something special out of the spoils if Morris delivered it all to him. When asked what this special something was, he stated that the element of surprise would only serve to make it better.In the meantime, Robin and some others expressed interest in going to see the soldiers work the locks. Many had never seen much of a river before in your lives, and the spectacle of the massive doors that blocked your progression had awakened some form of interest in many of the Bowlander recruits. The soldiers were taking their sweet time with the work, and everyone was a bit unsure if everything was going according to plan. Eventually the group was preparing to split itself into three, with some accompanying Morris to the orchard, others wanting to see the locks in operation and a few wanting to stay behind to play a game of cards they borrowed from the soldiers earlier.You didn’t entirely know with which group to go, though.>Join the group going to the orchard. It would be fun to see what Morris could pull out of it before the farmer noticed, and what Simon had in store for the bounty-to-be.>Join the group going to the locks. You’d never seen these before, and part of you did want to make sure that everything was going according to plan with these seemingly complicated machines.>Stay with the few recruits that were staying behind. Though nothing exciting, playing cards by the fire would be a safe bet for a fun evening. Maybe you could even earn some coins if you played you cards well. Besides, if anything happened to any of the other two parties, you’d be able to join them later on.
And with that we round off the leadup to the first major holiday of our winter break. I'll continue writing on December 28th. Until then, I wish you all a merry Christmas. I also finally got myself a tripcode. My apologies if me continuing to write as an anon caused any confusion before.
Grand Zen-Oh, the omni king and ruler of the omniverse has declared there will be a massive tournament to be held in his honor. A grand affair between several universes, each battling it out for the very right to exist. And at the forefront of this grand spectacle will be the Saiyans of Universe 7, who Grand Zen-Oh has grown fond of watching battle. Twenty eight years ago, the Saiyan race were annexed into the PTO as just another race, one of many sent to conquer other worlds. Now, the Saiyans are widely regarded as the strongest warrior race in the entire Seventh Universe, defenders of the PTO led by their strongest, the “Dragon of New Salda” General Karn and his family.You the players will (most often) control Karn. A man who has grown from his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733 to become not only the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759, but also personal friend to the former emperor Lord Freeza, father to well over a dozen powerful and unique children, a mentor and teacher to his fellow Saiyans, and the best hope for his universe's continued survival. No one warrior can hope to battle eight other universes' strongest fighters alone and hope to prevail, one man's power and skill won't be enough to overcome the looming threat of extermination. But this coming battle will be the ultimate test of how you've lived your life until now, the choices you made not only for yourself, but for the fate of your entire universe.Character sheets and other info: https://controlc.com/46ec566dhttps://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQMArchive:http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+QuestHelp fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQMQuest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):>30 minute vote times>Pick ONLY ONE option when votingComment too long. Click here to view the full text.
>>6350706If it were as simple as rocking up to him and throwing hands again, yeah, we absolutely could. But when is it ever that simple? Were he to come back in any capacity, it'd just be a matter of staying off our radar until he can actually deal with us. Time is no object to a Demon after all, at least in comparison to a mortal's lifespan.
My half-jokey comment has me thinking: Would Saiyans go to college? Are there educational facilities in New Salda?
>>6350832>Would Saiyans go to college?I imagine a fair few would, yes. We've already seen numerous Saiyans opt for various technical and support roles as opposed to being combatants. (Shoutouts to my boy Daiko and big mama Roccoli)>Are there educational facilities in New Salda?I doubt it. The colonization of New Salda is still in the very early stages all things considered. There's only 2 major settlements across the entire planet, and there's maybe 50,000 Saiyans between them.They'll come sooner or later though. New Salda needs people who can withstand the gravity to operate facilities their fulltime. Installing gravity generators on every important building and keeping them running just isn't feasible in the longterm. Not between that and the costs of importing enough food to feed the growing Saiyan population.
Merry Christmas.
Murray Chrysler!
You are Tristain d’Rusalka, a noble from the United Kingdom of Fodlan born with unique abilities bestowed upon you by the Goddess. You have journeyed across the sea to the desert kingdom of Morfis after receiving an invitation to join a mysterious competition. Though you know little of the trials that lie ahead, the winner of this contest has been promised the hand of Morfis’ Princess, Yulia Xan Phanes, in marriage. Seeking adventures, thrills, and battles that would be worthy of your might, you embarked on this strange voyage with nothing but your trusted axe.After surviving the deadly third round of the competition, you have made it to the top eight of Princess Yulia’s suitors. The final round consists of a tournament, which sees you up against the strongest warriors from four different nations. Whoever comes out on top shall be crowned the next King of Morfis. Do you have what it takes to rule?>Tristain d’Rusalka>Level 42 Wyvern Lord (EXP: 20/100)HP: 78/78 (130%)Strength: 42 (75%)Magic: 32 (50%)Speed: 29 (40%)Defense: 33 (70%)Resistance: 28 (50%)Luck: 29 (65%) Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.
>>6350754>“So then, my reward?”Cyril lets loose the deepest sigh you’d seen yet. Any relief he’d felt as the retrieval of the Ichor Scroll was counterbalanced by the idea that he’d now have to part with his weapon. The Inexhaustible was not just the Sacred Weapon of Indech, it was also the man’s personal seal of authority from Archbishop Byleth herself. For the ambassador to part with such a thing could only be seen as an endorsement of the future reign of Tristain d’Rusalka. So much for the man’s impartiality. At the moment, the adjutant that he’d nodded at earlier returns to the backyard. In his hands was your prize. The Inexhaustible, in all its glory.“A deal is a deal.” Cyril mutters. He turns towards his man, and gives him the go-ahead you’d been waiting for. You recall your battle with Klement, which at this point, felt as though it were an eternity ago. The Bergliez Lord had mocked you for having never held your Crest’s weapon. He’d claimed it to be one of the greatest feelings in the world. At the time, you’d thought that to be somewhat of an exaggeration. Now though, holding The Inexhaustible in your hands, you see that his claim might not have been entirely far off. The fatigue in your body that you’d felt following the conclusion of the third round seemed to instantly vanish upon grabbing hold of the bow. A latent power you could have only ever dreamed of felt as though it were now surging inside you, making you seem almost weightless. The exhilaration you felt could almost be described as frightening. Wielding this weapon, it was as if there was no one in existence who could stop you. A dangerous notion.>You Received: The Inexhaustible (Bow, Equipped) (+11 DMG, +20 SPD, +10 LCK. Restores 20% HP every turn if user has Crest of Indech. Deals two consecutive hits if unit initiates combat. Cannot counter in close-range combat.)“Go ahead, take a shot.” Cyril says, gesturing towards the shooting dummies his knights were practicing on. His suggestion suddenly snaps you out of your power-induced stupor.>“Let me go get an arrow and-”Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.
>>6350755>“Hahahaha! This is amazing!” You cheer, pumping your fists into the air with almost childlike glee. “The Inexhaustible is incredible! With this sort of firepower, Princess Yulia’s hand will assuredly be mine!”“It’s not yours. I’m only lending it to you. Remember?”>“Huh?” You are suddenly and quite rudely brought back to reality. Here you were having one of the greatest moments of your life just for this negative man to ruin it. “Is that what we agreed upon?”“Tristain.” Cyril says darkly. “I will lend you The Inexhaustible. I believe your service to the nation, as well as your status as a representative of Fodlan, earn you that much. As the only one of our contenders without a Heroes Relic or Sacred Weapon, I would prefer you wield it in order to maximize our chances of winning this tournament and establishing relations with Morfis. However, it is not mine to give. The only ones with that authority are Archbishop Byleth and her royal husband, Seteth. Upon the tournament’s conclusion, I expect you to return it, regardless of whether you win or not.”>A): I will return The Inexhaustible after the competition’s conclusion.>B): I will return The Inexhaustible after the competition’s conclusion. (cross your fingers).>C): Sorry, but I think I’ll be keeping this.>D): Write-in
>>6350757>>B): I will return The Inexhaustible after the competition’s conclusion. (cross your fingers).Tristain is back, Christmas is saved! Well, after the tournament there's gonna be a few more important fights for us... I'm sure Byleth would approve of using this bow to purge some Sages.
>>6350757>D): Write-in"Oh thats the issue? So just ask Archbishop Byleth if I can keep it."By the time the response gets back Tristain will be King.Cyril can't jump Tristain without interfering in the competition, which would be bad. If Tristain wins hes King and Cyril can't force it without starting a war. The way I see it hes kind of boned either way.Though Cyril IS the Authority of Archbishop Byleth in this land. His decision is Byleth's decision? Though clearly he doesn't quite feel that covers this. So he should just ask her.I guess my other idea would be that this land is clearly going to get into a civil war. He should be able to sense it having lived through the time before the Fodlan civil war. There are issues here that won't be resolved without one side killing the other, like Tartarus.
Just so you know, QM, I've been shilled your quest by a friend. Currently reading all of it (just reached thread 10 of OG) and thoroughly enjoying it.I'm happy you're running so I can have kind words "in direct"Aki, if you're reading this Your a faggot, but the good kind
Last time, you made a bunch of phone calls yet again. Another long spiral of voices going in and out this damn device. Its electronic functions, square shape, and unnecessary brightness displease you. The world would be better without them. One day, you will return to older times, when you read letters — and complained anonymously over billboards. But that’s not now or then.The relevant fact is that Matilda is joining your efforts. The Mafia topic is more personal to her than half of the people here. But not all. Celia and Aurora have big stakes in the operation.Right now, your briefing came to a sudden stop. Once again Lydie dropped a cliffhanger worthy line. Your lovely Beth is a former member of the International Assassin Syndicate! Props to the hyperactive rich girl, when she said she was interested in the prisoner, she meant it. And somehow, she got the information from the femme fatale’s mouth!“Huh… I didn’t know that. I should’ve pressed Beth about her past.” Crossbill is fairly impressed.“Beth is a what…?!” Liu’s mind remembers the events of last night, and her poor frizzly head can’t wrap around it.“You’re making stuff up, Lydie. You should give me back my fanclub. Nobody should withstand a liar in a position of authority.” Vera frowns. “Anyone with me? I wanna see some hands raised.”“Get your own fanclub.” Lydie glares back. Isn’t it yours?“H-How do you have the gall to say that to me of all people?!” Vera can’t believe the shamelessness. “Besides, the point still stands.”Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.
>>6350799Thirding
Primarily, you’re the one who wanted Matilda here in the first place, you must fulfill your duty and bring her up to speed. No. You must go even further. Do a job so much better than Vera’s that you’ll make her jealous! Big goals for big gals!“Sure. Let me give you the most concise and informative briefing you’ve ever partaken in.” You’re going to begin explaining everything to Matilda.“Good. Let’s not waste any time.” Matilda likes your attitude.“Heh, love ya, but it’s a tall order.” Vera is very smug.“But is it?!” Lydie introduces a new cliffhanger! Which will be resolved now. She has no control over the pace of this talk.You explain everything, from the mission statement, the members involved from your side, the possible obstacles, and the tidbits you learned through the calls and more.“That was the most concise and informative briefing I have taken part of. Splendid Job.” Matilda says word for word.“Thanks.” You nod back to your trainer.Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.
>>6350819What is she doing on Lydie's phone? Do you care? You have enough people as is…What do you do?>Shush Odetta out of here. Mission is full. Tell her to get a job too.>Hand Lydie her phone and pretend nothing happened.>Discreetly tell Odetta to jump back into your phone instead.>“Odetta, the hell are you doing here...?” Point out and shame. Your friend is being dumb.>Write In.(Last Reply of the Day, we return on Friday! Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to everyone!)
>>6350819>>Hand Lydie her phone and pretend nothing happenedMaybe steer the conversation to ask what she'd do if there was a ghost in her phone
>>6350822>Write In.Poke Odetta’s cheeks, she loves it when we do it! Also ask what she’s doing in our gf/pretend gf phone.
You are GEROME. You have been jailed pending trial on the charge of the RAPEMURDER of multiple infant babies. You are in the LONGHOUSE PENITENTIARY. You want to escape.What do you do?
Use PENIS as improvised lasso and swing recklessly from lightbulb.
>>6350109Cut the door open with you powerful piss stream
Start secreting PENILE ESSENCE through jail door bars.
I'll resume tomorrow, probably.
>>6350483Deliver, this looks fun.
OH SHIT NIGGA. You are lady Firemane. Of the (formerly) noble house of Fireborn! You were once the greatest wagon racer this side of the kingdom. Sadly due to shenanigans, you lost everything and went into debt with the Adventurer's Guild in order to survive. But then you found the Inexperienced Hero, Ezekiel "Kid" Rutebega ! You took him under your wing to mold him into the hero he's always meant to be: your devoted apprentice (probably)Ezekiel's older brother has started his campaign of destruction, he leads his hordes of undead barbarians to ravage the lands. As members of the guild, your party has went on the quest chain to stop said undead barbarian horde.In pursuit of said barbarian horde, the party is currently going through the SPOOKY FOREST™
Rolled 50 (1d100)>>6350768Dear lord, they're maoists!
>>6350772Dios mio!
Rolled 100 (1d100)>>6350774More crosses are needed
Rolled 26 (1d100)>>6350780I mean yeah hard to argue with that
>>6350780Incoming crosses
A Tale From The World Of FrostpunkThe year is 1909, and the Great Frost hangs over the heads of every living man, woman and child. In the previous decade, global temperatures dropped to an unsustainable point, and the geopolitical landscape of Earth was changed forever. Mass refugee crises. Starvation. Hypothermia and frostbite. War. Nobody survived unscathed, and billions perished in the chaos. Many of those that survived huddled around grand Generators, built by hundreds of engineers, acting as mechanical monuments to warmth and survival. Others sought out bold new technological developments, endlessly-running trains, subterranean colonies and grand zeppelins flying above the clouds. But for the majority, there were the Generators.You never knew the world before, having been one of the “Frostborn” — those that felt their first breath of air in this icy world. Your parents were British refugees, fleeing north from Newcastle with thousands of others. Things were very hard growing up, and you feel strange absences in your memory, repressed parts of your youth locked away by your developing brain. Mum and Dad always told you that the less was said about the White Years, the better. That was the worst time, you’ve gathered.Since then, many cities have fallen, crushed beneath instability, lack of resources or sickness. Others have developed into busy, industrious centres that now begin to hesitantly chart out the Frostlands beyond just the immediate scope of their perimeter. Your own city, Beacon, is one of the latter.
>>6350248>Try to politely decline, if you canIt will fuck up your friendship if you take a job as her servant.
>>6350248>Make your opinion known: this is absolutely NOT your field of expertise.
>>6350248>>Try to politely decline, if you can.
>>6350248>Make your opinion known: this is absolutely NOT your field of expertise.Girl, we stare at machines and schematics most of the time, fiction is NOT that.
>>6350248>>Make your opinion known: this is absolutely NOT your field of expertise.
>be you>be at the edge of the world>your people are finished>the last great city is a sinking husk behind you>the Old King is dead, choked on his own prophecies>the crown is in your pack, heavy with failure>ahead lies only the Black Sands, a sea of ash under a dying sun>the scrolls say nothing lives there>the scrolls were wrong>something is moving in the ash, and it has seen you>the survivors at your back are silent, waiting>choose
>>6348582>Write-inBack away to a safe spot with the captive first. Can't trust them monsters who just killed some of us moments ago
>>6348582>Return to camp and tell our people to follow the river upstream until they reach its source and make semi-permanent camp. If they are assailed, they may counter-attack at their discretion. We will take 20 warriors and a volunteer willing to die, then proceed with the elder into the mines.
>>6348591I'll back this.
>>6348591AgreedAs additional, let's craft some spears and arrows from those trees.
>>6349574I'm game for that if we have time and our people are able to carry the extra weight. Should probably, at some point, teach noncombatants to at least hold spears and circle up in an emergency.
Spring, 200X. Evening._______There is a ringing behind your ears. Your senses are dulled, and are wrestling with an internal static preventing you from regaining your grip on reality. For a moment you are stunned into forgetting the where and the why of the drama: that is what happens when you get caught in an explosion. Before numbness invaded your system a mysterious force smashed into the walls of your school. A villain appeared. You could never have predicted a villain showing up in your town of Hauteville.You and your class had little time to react. The entity collided with the building at lightning speed; demolishing one side of the school a flashy figure appeared. A rogue magical girl.The floor offers stability for your hands and knees to rely on, currently the most reliable object for support. The fuzz in your head vanishes at a snail's pace as teenagers scream in the chaos."This is revenge! I'm sick of being looked down upon! You only have yourselves to blame!" the magical girl reasons. She looks familiar. There must be some sort of supernatural barrier from being recognized; but her looks and tone invoke a visceral response to your psyche. "Where is she!?"Clarity of mind returns little by little while the magical girl sows destruction. You also feel a mysterious energy inside you as well. Is it the sensation of your life in peril? Or something more?One of the first shards of clarity returns: your name is Gana. In this world, there are good magical girls and bad magical girls with monsters in between.Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.
I will try to make a case against Altaripa Protocol in an attempt to flip some votes. Let us assume it wins. Then our course of action is clear - come up with the coolest design and then wear it. And then? It is doubtful that redesigns will happen often. So, basically it is just a passive buff (that can be potentially somewhat thwarted by enemies). And, after we get it, it will neither create new options for us(like Saragossa Protocol) nor will influence our behavior (like Mayence Protocol). So, while it is by no means the end of the world, I feel like the Altaripa Protocol is the most boring option.
>>6348790>>Saragossa Protocol. You can breach the identity protection of magical girls, and even identify them in civilian form.
>>6349642I'm surprised that's the winning option and not 1 & 2. those at least have either scalling or versatility while 3 is only a passive boost that I doubt even at this early stage is better than the others
>>6348790>Saragossa Protocol. You can breach the identity protection of magical girls, and even identify them in civilian form.sounds like the most fun for this kind of questAltaripa is just plain boring and Mayence is sorta redundant because we're already a psycho bully bitch metaphorically feeding on the suffering of others
OP ?
Your sprained ankle barely carrying you. The dull throbbing pain in your head at least numbs the pain in your shoulder and forearms. Though it does little to quell the pain in your side from your broken ribs. You glance over to the group of people behind you. Dressed in black school uniforms, roughly a dozen of them.They are all standing roughly ten-fifteen feet behind you. Looking at you with hate, and some fear in their eyes. They are clumped up together like posing for a group photo, and do not advance on you. Even though they've been kicking the hell out of you a minute ago. Then a long shadow descended from the direction the sun was setting, and covered you all. Forcing them to back off as if something physically pushed them away."Go on! Get out of here!" their leader yells, but does not cross the long shadow.Whatever curses leave your mouth, they are barely a whisper, you cough as you continue. Away from them, away from your home. Following the distant figure that casts that long shadow.You look down upon yourself, and verify that your strongest asset is still there, surviving the battering.>Your fist, you always had the meanest right punch>Your leg, it started with kicking ball and soon it became kicking people>Your abs, rock hard and keeping your organs mostly protected, helping stamina >Write-in
Writing
>>6350359>>6350462"I'll put him out." you say, and after a little shuffling you are given access to the exit. You pat the toad on its head with one finger. "You stay safe, I'll be back tomorrow." you give it a wink, and it gives you a wink with both dark eyes. Or maybe it was just a blink.The nightlife of the nearby wetlands has already started to fill the air. Crickets, some other toads, and thousands of bugs make their song as the last rays of the sun are touching the horizon. You no longer hear it though once you are back inside, assuming some talking should be fine, especially with the other room between you.You join the others. Some are already deeply snoozing, used to this sort of accommodation, or the whole situation. Maybe they just never got up. Aside from the smell, it is dry and warm. Only the faint rays of the streetlight penetrate though the boards."So what is your story?" Ronnie asks you"Me?" you ask "I've got exiled from home. One day I'll return though, and right what is wrong.""Return huh?" he leans back, looking at the ceiling "Man, I've been on the road for so long, I've got no place to return to. Take it from me, if you have no home, have a dream to keep you warm.""Why don't you have anywhere to return home?""Eh, Sobekians raided my home like... gods, so many years ago. Chopping people left and right, capturing people. Barely got with my hide out intact. Been on the move since.""That sucks" Martin says "I have got into a tough spot between the Iron Marshall and some gang. They tried to stash some drugs on me, and the Marshalls used the opportunity to bust a lot of them. My excuses weren't flying so I had to split."Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.
>>6350532>Ask about the place where you're at.
>>6350532>C) Ask about the place where you're at.
>>6350532>Ask about the two groups
The cold, crisp air of the surrounding environment chills you to the core. The city looks so different from above, the streetlights appearing like stars from below as you scale the sleek, ebony, dimly lit skyscraper. "Reaper, do you read me? A calm and monotone voice buzzes through your earpiece. You sigh, the effort of scaling the building slowly wearing down even on your trained muscles. Holding the earpiece with a single finger as you hang off the building with your other hand suctioned on you press down on the auditory device."I read you, Crow. This important?" You ask, only managing to mask the exhaustion in your tone very slightly. The voice on the other side tries to stifle a chuckle, "You're nearing the entry point on the 60th floor, systems picking up multiple readings on the floor just above you. Remember.. our client wants this done quietly, you grab the USB from the floor above, get back to the breached entry, get the fuck out, preferably with no unnecessary casualties. You understanding me?" The masculine voice asks. You look up, spotting the cut window still intact with it's frame you race up the remaining little bit of the building you have left. You press your hand against the window and.. CLICKThe window comes out of the frame, your one suctioned hand sticking to it, stopping it from falling to the ground and alerting someone. You slip inside the building from the breached point and take off your climbing gear, placing everything in your black duffle bag hanging off your side. Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.
>>6348768>So.. what DO we know about the client who hired us
>>6348768>Where's Spyder? Normally the sneaky stuff fires her up. Why's she not doing this gig?
>>6348768>Give me a rundown of the details for this job, Crow
>>6348768>Give me a rundown of the details for this job, CrowEyes on the prize
It’s when I’m contemplating the optimal way of wasting my life away that there’s a knock on my office door.“Come in,” I grumble, threading the slightest bit of power to the sigil on my left pointer. You can never be too cautious.The door swings open, and in steps a woman wearing a sundress with enough color to give me an instant headache. I note she has four arms, four eyes, and skin leaning on a purple hue. Must be some type of Arachne, then, but the specifics of her parentage aren’t exactly my problem. She steps right up to my desk, fearless, and graces me with a smile rife with one too many fangs.I thread just a teensy, tiny bit more power into my defenses. Just in case.“Hullo, mister wizard!” The woman says in a voice a touch shriller than I expected. “My name’s Gina, I saw the papers you placed around town regarding your services, and I wish I could’ve greeted you earlier, oh, but I’ve been so busy the last week. I adore new arrivals, and magic, and–”“Yeah, hello to you too.” I wave a hand to stop her rambling before it splits my poor head open. “You got a magic problem that needs fixing, or…?” I stare up at her.Gina pauses for a moment, brain rebooting - if she even has one - and smiles wider. “Oh, yes, yes indeed I do! You see, there’s been something strange happening! I run a clothing shop down the street, and I’ve been hearing the strangest noises. It’s like something’s scampering around, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t even catch a glimpse of whatever it might be. I’m worried something sinister might be stalking around. Is it possible your magic might be able to sniff out the perpetrator? I can pay!”A rat? Is that what she wants me to deal with; a wizard, formerly of the Star Circle, reduced to dealing with rodents? I briefly wonder what my mentor would think of me now… if they even deigned to think of me at all after the incident.Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.
>>6348259>I tell the truth and say I don’t. I tell her I’m new in town and want to greet the mayor.Mention that we are a wizard, that puts us on the important people list.
>>6348259>>I ignore her completely and walk past her towards the stairs at the back. Dealing with this only wastes time. It’s not like a secretary is gonna kick my ass.
>>6348259>I tell the truth and say I don’t. I tell her I’m new in town and want to greet the mayor.We clearly have no sense of prudence, so we might as well.
>>6348375I have faith in OP after how well the “turn all their clothes into pitch” write in was handled. Seems to be a good enough QM to not hit us with trap options in the first arc when we’re still figuring out the setting. Prudence has nothing to do with it.
>>6348259>>I tell the truth and say I don’t. I tell her I’m new in town and want to greet the mayor.
