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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], [i], and color tags [red], [green], and [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.

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It was a normal day in October when the magical portal first appeared in the sky and thousands of magical girls flew out. They chanted "Desu! Desu! Desu!" as they poisoned your water supplies, burned your crops, and delivered plagues into your houses.

You are one of the last surviving resistance fighters in humanity's war against magical girls.

Who were you before the invasion?

>A decorated marine with over 300 confirmed kills

>A 'scientist' who spent his life researching the existence of magical girls

>A less than ethical financial analyst looking to profit from the invasion

>A hard-boiled detective who had only one day left before retirement

>A NEET who spent all day playing video games and watching anime

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Tell me about the Mahous, why do they not fight for The Justice?
>>
>>1980122
>>"They use their evil magic to turn men into magical girls."
>>
>>1980122
>"They force you to star in slice-of-life or harem anime, where a dozen magical girls chase after you all day."
and when they catch you, they do
>"Lewd and unspeakable things."
Also, 90% of them only drink green tea. That means
>"Tea parties. Without any milk."
>>
>>1980916
they do fight for The Justice, their Justice.
>>
>>1980122
Supporting
>>1980303
>>1980721
>>1981438

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This is a thread created for the "discussion" of Quest threads.

Please do not[/shitpost] and please shit post at any shit posters attempting to derail discussion or cause strife, otherwise known as discussion. Any discussion at all is banned. Fuck you. Fuck me too.Fuck us all.

Questionably Useful links:http://pastebin.com/u5xPbk6w(embed)
This link contains numerous writing guides, general advice, and various quest tools and communities. You will also never read itthough you fucking should, so who fucking cares, just ask whatever stupid question you have in the thread you faggot enabler scunch dwelling proletariat rodent.

https://twitter.com/Eisenstern/lists/quest-runner-directory/
https://twitter.com/tgquestlist/lists/quest-master-directory
These are two directories containing the tweets of many current Quail Molesters. While a twitter is by no means mandatory, it is a useful tool for both you and your players. To get added to the second list, tweet @tgQuestList. Spamming tweets unrelated to your quest may result in its removal, and grant you sweet release from being shackled to this mortal coil.

IRC Channels:
[The Cabal] #QMC @ Rizon.net (slightly related to quests; enjoys worldbuilding, mechanics, and politics. Dead)
[Hogbox] #ques/tg/enerals @ Rizon.net (barely related to quests; enjoys Larro quests and anime. Wishes it were dead.)


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>>1981608
A veneer of unquestioning devotion, accompanied by competence which will only rarely fail, but in a way which makes them vulnerable to the MC specifically.

Appearance is irrelevant. Most of her personality can be irrelevant so long as the above conditions are met. The circumstances of their introduction can vary wildly, but if her end goal is manipulation then at least give her a half-assed excuse to "fall" for the MC and be that devoted. As for timing - being the first waifu tends to give them an advantage. Conversely, NOT being the first waifu may backfire as some anons may try to play the fidelity card. This is rarer in my experience, but something to think about.

So in short, introduce them early through a contrivance which gives them cover for acting devoted to the MC and have her be competent enough to handle herself, with a deliberately engineered "weakness" for the MC. That weakness is almost invariably the trap that gets people, and it's the rope she can use to hang the players.
>>
>>1981608
In my opinion?

>Personality traits?
They need to seem dependent. The best way to manipulate somebody (at least dramatically) is for them to nudge people or lead people in the direction they want and let their puppet do the heavy lifting for them.

It fellates the ego of the player who wants to get shit done and strokes the ballsack of the player who wants to make waifus happy. I'd daresay they'd never see it coming from somebody who seems to be, in character, incapable of doing things without help.

Also it helps if they're antisocial so their only outlet is with the player. Gotta build up that illusion of mutual trust.

At least, that's how I'd do it, if I were solely going for manipulation. For the full character package you need the why in addition to the how.

The twist is that the why they put across is a lie.

>Appearance?

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>>1973893

And we're back. I'll try and finish up tonight.
>>
Anyone got tips for storytelling? I've read the stuff in the OP but none of it's really clicked for me.
>>
>>1981745
could you be more specific?

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Last Thread
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1893651/

Twitter: @The_Renexizious

Discord: https://discord.gg/BbzTura

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

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

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

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Liz grumbles more...

"...I'll go, alright... Let me get dressed..."

You kiss her, and get up out of bed...

Who do you want to be anons?

>The grumpy, and annoyed Elizabeth...
>Remain Renexizious.
>>
>>1980980


>Remain Renexizious.
>>
>>1980980
>Remain Renexizious.
>>
Roll me a 1d20+4 for how well this goes.

+3 if you can explain to the family what the general rules are, and what to do and what not to do.
+2 if you can also explain to them who Mr. Hogg is and his daughter, and how important a first impression is.
>>
Rolled 11 + 4 (1d20 + 4)

>>1981735

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Thread LXXXV:
Irregular times and interruptions continue, apologies as always. That said, lets get back too it, shall we?

Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Lamia%20Legacy%20Quest
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LamiaLegacy
Opening Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCQmQwKEEOM
Story Thus Far: https://pastebin.com/5QtQyJuK
Season: Early Spring

Money: 1425

Sasha: Skill list
Ranching +4
Scholar +3
Marksmanship +6

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>>1980485
Well, we can circle wagons with them, but I mostly want them so we can be lazy occasionally.
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>>1980512
Laziness gets you killed. We use a wagon when going to town. Not when going through bandit, enemy army, monster-infested wildlands.
>>
>>1980512
>>1980530
*Carrage

When we don't need to worry, we don't. When we do need to worry, we do.

Right now, we have peoples' lives and livelihoods in our hands. Including our own. We're not allowed to be lazy.
Try again once we don't need to worry about the Fallen, or the bandits, or enemy armies.
>>
>11

The caravan starts its journey in the most unremarkable way possible, with a slow trundling across the bridge. Zhou keeps his beastfolk in good order. You were somewhat worried about the merchants reaction to the beastfolk, but outside of the returning merchants being a bit leery, the others seem indifferent to excited. Curious about the latter, you move up to talk to the food merchant. "You know," you say, casually, "Outside of Liama, who has her own reasons, I've not met folks actually excited to see Zhou's people. The usual look is either confusion or suspicion."

The spindly little man gives you a wide grin, "I've made it my life's work to meet every single kind of people there is, rumors that the phoenix beastfolk existed were almost mythlike in irregularity on the mainland. Seeing a group here? Well, that just gives me a new goal to get into the empire, one way or another. After I meet more of the Casimiran, of course."

"I take it that is your reason on heading out here? It may be dangerous."

His grin gets wider, "Not as dangerous as getting an audience with the Old One I imagine. Took a dozen head of cattle to get the old bugger to wake up, but just getting that brief talk with him was worth it. Food is the universal conversation starter, and if I can broaden the horizons of the people I meet, mayhaps they'll be inclined to do the same."

Behind him, you see the youth roll his eyes in the back of the wagon, clearly having heard this particular line before. Making a note to get this guys story in full later, you drop back to the returning merchants. "Hey, hope this trip goes better than the last. You guys looking on making a big haul?"

The woman answers, cutting off the driver, "Something like that, we've got some luxury goods, non-perishables, the like. We'll see if its worth the trouble."

"Non-perishables?"

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>>
Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>1981761
I see no reason not to see if artyom likes it. Market research is good. No liking it too much though. This is someone's merchandise over hea. And we're on the job.

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> RAAAAAGH!

You is biggest Ogre of bestest Ogre tribe, which means you is Ogre Chief! Since you is Ogre Chief, you gets the mostest food, n' gets the firstest grab to all the shinies! But since you is Ogre Chief, the whole tribe listens to you, which means you has to make ALL the decisions for the whole tribe, n' if you mess up, the whole tribe will die! It's a big job, which is why the biggest Ogre has to do it, n' the biggest Ogre is you!

It's not easy neither, since Ogre tribe has lots n' lots of problems. Ogres is biggest n' strongest in the whole world, but there is lots n' lots of little people, even more than there is in the whole tribe put together, n' they don't like Ogres not one bit, 'cause Ogres is the best n' little people is jealous! N' Ogres needs lots n' lots of food too, but there ain't hardly nothin' to eat, 'cause the little people came n' killed all the moo-moos with their pointy sticks n' their neigh-neighs! So now the whole tribe will starve unless they can get food!

Ogres is one big family, n' Ogres love each other very very much, but there is problems! The last Ogre babies has had webbed fingers n' toes, n' they is even uglier than other Ogres, by that's not problem. The problem is more n' more Ogre babies keep coming out dead each baby time! Ogre tribe is worried soon there won't be no more babies n' that tribe will die if Ogres can't find a way to fix the problem with the babies! The lastest but worstest problem is that cold time is come soon, but Ogres no have food n' will starve if Ogres can't find any!

> You is Ogre Chief n' you has to make decisions, so what should Ogre tribe do next?
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>>1980883
I vote to be
Chief Mountain! Is biggest word we know, and we is biggest ogre we know! And we is gonna be as big as a mountain someday! And if we ever rules over a mountain someday, we can call it Mount Chief!
>>
>>1980883
quick-stick is right
>>
Going to bed, G'night y'all!
>>
>>1980883
>agree with quick-stick

We have more babies and more ogres and grown an big family.
Then we smash all the tiny people
>>
>>1980883
>quick-stick smart, agree with quickstick.

>>1977343
Now might be the time for that ditch idea. We don't need any escapees.

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

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

A, Tell them to fuck off.

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

C, Summon some water horses to destroy the village.

D, Ignore them and continue to smoke your pipe, maybe they'll leave.
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>>1981278
well then this isnt elf quest anymore is it
>>
>>1981287

There's a bit of elf stuck to the bottom of the Dragon's foot!
>>
>>1981292
Thus ends Elf and Dragon Quest.
>>
>>1981278
But he got dubs
>>
>>1981278
Lets find some Kobolds!

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

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

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

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

>cont
>>
>>1981377
It all started on a Saturday night.

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

Furiously you typed with your fat, pudgy fingers -

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

Silence.

There was no response.

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


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>>1981381
>Vish: Intelligent bird aliens. Were once slavers that spanned a quarter of the galaxy until they were put in their place by the Empire. Polytheistic theocracy, based off of a religion that states constant conquest is “peace”
>Sy’tari: Human faction, descended from one of the last exosolar colonies of the ancient terran country, “Ame’lita”. Former slaves/vassals of Vish. Monotheistic theocracy, based off of the Vish god of death and chaos, Vit’na.
>Wukat: Star aliens, body composition is plasma. They can’t survive off of a star, Inserted consciousness inside organic bodies to explore before shifting back to a plasma form on a star.. Tend to be isolationist.
>Terrans: Home to Terra Prime of the Sol System, the home of the human species. It is also where the Empire rose from. The terrans ruled for 500 years, but they fell in their prime and are now much reduced in power.
>>
>>1981384
>>Terrans: Home to Terra Prime of the Sol System, the home of the human species. It is also where the Empire rose from. The terrans ruled for 500 years, but they fell in their prime and are now much reduced in power.
Earth Pride, Galaxy Wide!

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https://brorlandi.github.io/StarWarsIntroCreator/#!/AKwQvATcK_IbnXH-6fsl

...You had never been so tired in your life. It had been a stressful two days of almost constant holo transmissions between your junior captains, your fellow senior captains and even the Admiral. The death of Emperor had spread throughout the Empire like a wildfire, and the entirety of the senior staff was in a panic. Naturally this panic had spread all the way down and now your small patrol line was caught up in the avalanche of organizational breakdown.

Needless to say looking out the transparisteel viewport of your quarters and seeing the empty void of space was soothing to your heavy eyes, so much so that sleep threatened to claim you if not for the fact that you were still standing. The current major issue concerned the plethora of conflicting orders coming from both the admiralty and high command. It was a reflexive action surely, pulling a majority of the fleet from the outer rim and back to the core and mid rim; However from what you could gleam the acknowledgement of such orders was spotty at best.

Even over Rothana you were being given order to abandon the system, including the great space docks that hung above the world. Add to that the world was a fortress world and you had to really think if abandoning a defendable position was a smart one. However when push came to shove you decided:

>What did you choose to do?
>A. Follow orders, pull your Line back to the Core worlds
>B. Abandoning the position you currently held would be a goldmine to the Rebellion, you refused to move
>C. Rothana’s industries would be a great service...to you
>D. Other.
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>>1980796
>>C. Make a makeshift barricade, any cover is good cover.
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>>1980796
>>C. Make a makeshift barricade, any cover is good cover.
>>
>>1980796
>C
>>
>>1980796
Is it possible to trap the area with stun grenades? They should be standard issue.
>>
>>1980796
>>1981747
Agreed, would it be possible to mine certain key areas as well as building a barricade.

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The way is dark.

Above, the moon - crimson, enigmatic. A wan, ruddy orb, shedding a sickly light across the spires of the skyline. Your footfalls are the only sound in the stillness, slow and measured, each step punctuated by a brittle crunch of gravel.

Your breath smokes. It is cold, bitterly cold, a cold that slices through your coat and sinks into your bones. It brings with it an aching numbness, a numbness that makes the world blur at the edges like a dream.

You've left the city of light behind you, more than an hour ago. Far from the neon glow, the chatter, the charged hum of electronics and growl of engines. Here, all that remains is-

Before you, the tower looms. It is a gutted carcass, a bleak and twisted ruin - a single spire jabbing skywards, like an accusing finger towards the heavens. A skeletal framework of girders and rusted steel beams shows through half-collapsed walls, like ribs protruding through wasted skin. A single black screen - a crack spiderwebbing across the surface - flickers with white static at uneven intervals, like a cyclopean, staring eye.

It radiates despair like a fire radiates heat.

You're not sure how long this place has stood. Years, perhaps, a monument to epic and miserable failure.

Perhaps the suicides were inevitable, too. But never like this: Last week - mere *days* ago - there were five at once. Five, to climb through the maze of rebar and steps, all the way to the very top. Hours of quiet effort, and then a single step, a step out into open air-

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>>1981657

The gem in your bracer flares with blinding emerald light-

You move between moments, now, as the shield at your wrist becomes a sword. The blade hisses out in a long, elegant curve - single-edged, razor-sharp, forged entirely from a single length of lightless steel. Vortices of wind swirl around you, as swirling streamers writhe on all sides - When you sweep the sword across, raising it to guard, they trail in its wake like a tangled swirl of razored wire, there then gone.

And you *move*. Your feet leave the ground, your slashing track slicing through the hissing filaments - They lash out at you, but the swarming blades of wind shear through them, the cut ends reeling back, recoiling like serpents, gouting that awful aniseed-and-antiseptic ichor into the steaming air. The motion is dizzyingly fast, instinctive - You're about to fall, but a faintly-glowing platform flickers into existence for the span of a second, just long enough for you to kick off, to leap again.

The blade is impossibly light, so well-balanced it could split a hair down the center. It feels like it could swing itself - An extension of your arm, moving faster than thought. Again and again, it lashes out - Shearing apart writhing filaments as they speed towards you, the severed ends coiling and thrashing against the velvety ground, like flailing limbs...

-As your leap takes you to Yukihime's side.

She half-turns to face you - one fevered glance, her sword gleaming in her hand as she makes the abrupt calculation of "not-an-enemy" - and then you feel the sleek arch of her back against yours, hear the light hitch of her breath at the momentary contact, as she says-

"Cover me."

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>>1981680

And then there's no more time for words. Only effort.

The Witch is a distant, haunting figure - Free hand raised, in a motion full of alien grace. A single accusing finger points, a rising squall of white noise erupting from the slowly-opening maw of the ibis mask.

A moment of silence. Yukihime's hushed inhalation, as she tenses at your back - Her knuckles clenched white around the grip of her sword. The bars of the birdcage tremble, sprouting ivory thorns - Hissing red filaments rising from unraveling tapestries...

They come you at all once. A flurry. A squall.

You are slashing and striking, splintering barbed projectiles, severing lashing insect-limbs that lunge out from the ground. Crimson threads wind around your AZOTH blade, and almost wrench it from your hand - But Yukihime's sword flashes in, mirror-bright, and shears them apart in a single unfurling sweep. You repay the favor an instant later, when a spined fist - barely articulated - drives directly at her skull: A swirling tempest blasts from your sword, carves it into halves, then quarters, before your swing scatters the pieces in every direction at once.

-A momentary glimpse, of full lips peeled back from perfect teeth in a hiss of effort, the faintest blush to her cheeks-

And the Witch's fingers shoot forward, grotesquely elongated, like javelins of bone.

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>>1981694

A rustle of fabric - A momentary weight on your shoulders - the brilliant flash of steel-

Yukihime descends, like a bird of prey. Her long sleeves trail in her wake, her sword coming across in a blindingly-fast sweep. Hunched over, encased in ice, you made the perfect springboard - Even as the foul talons of bone grind and chatter against your shield, driving you back, back-

As Yukihime's mirror-bright sword cuts the Witch's throat clean through.

The blade shears through the column of her neck without slowing, the same vile ichor spurting, gouting, in the freezing air. There's a sound right on the edge of perception - a sound more felt than heard - like the *beginnings* of a high, wailing scream...

The Witch's pale form crumples, like a puppet with strings cut. Petals of white whirl into the air, taking sudden flight like a flock of startled birds - A slow-motion collapse, dissolving as it falls, shredding apart with each passing second-

Until only the ibis mask thumps dully to the ground - scraps of something that might be flesh clinging to the insides of the grostek.

No. Not the only thing.

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>>1981718
[ ] "Please - Give me the Grief Seed."
>>
>>1981718
>[ ] "Please - Give me the Grief Seed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

> What to do…

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>>1981534
Blood for the blood god!
Also forgot to say happy birthday Bananon!
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>>1980253
Happy birthday and thanks for running. Hope tomorrow is better for you.
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>>1981515
Excuse me? they literally sent a jeep with raiders after us, while he was busy stalling us, he said it himself. how exactly is that not harming us?
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>>1981297
We just did tear ass over the terrain.
Bananon said that our Eyebots are nearly on him and our other body isn’t far behind.
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>>1981515
He said he’s going to continue helping and being part of a group that murders and kidnaps people. He said there is nothing we can offer that will make him stop.
What course of action are you recommending? We have no non-lethal option, and letting him get back to the Lurkers will mean greater casualties among the Metro and Brotherhood.

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

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

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

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

>continuing.
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>>1976979
>>Check computer terminal
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>>1976981
>>Check computer terminal
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>>1978248
>>1980097
I sneak up to the terminal. Something moves in the corner of my eye, but all I see is empty white halls, well lit.

The terminal glows blue. I can read it! it's using the same text the Republic uses- wait, is the Republic's text just Pyresian symbols? The screen responds to my touch. I look up, swearing I saw movement from my other eye.

Is this place haunted?!

The terminal offers commands:
- User History
- Add New User
- Systems Diagnostic
- Power Off Terminal.

Wait, why was it on?

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>>1981659
>Pick command (Systems Diagnostic)
>>
>>1981659
>>1981727
Second task of finding User History if possible

File: American Arcana Title 17.png (278 KB, 2880x1920)
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>Twitter: https://twitter.com/Judge_Presiding
>Last Thread: >>1929463 (https://boards.4chan.org/qst/thread/1929463)
>Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=American+Arcana
>Linkbin: https://pastebin.com/Nrccskfg
>Discord: https://discord.gg/7Jpsyrq

When last we left off...
>Maybe we can keep operating it until everything is worked out.
"I hope so," grumbles Sofia. "I don't think that they'd allow high school students to be in control of business finances, especially if it belongs to someone else."
>Place has kinda grown on me too
"You don't know it like I do, but you're still so connected to it," Sofia comments. "Man, you've really taken to this city like a duck to water, haven't you?" A sense of admiration enters her voice.

Even though the tone of the day has been darkened considerably, Sofia seems to have regained some of her focus, and she prepares to walk to the hospital. You share a conversation as you head to see if there's any way you can follow up on Miss Patricia's condition.


"I'm sorry, sir," you're told by the secretary, "While I can let her in for thirty minutes, I'm afraid you're not on the list of allowed visitors."

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>>1980366
>Ruth asking David out on a date? C’mon don’t tell me you aren’t the least bit curious
>WE’ll be right over there Dona
>>
>>1980400
>Ruth asking David out on a date? C’mon don’t tell me you aren’t the least bit curious
"Just because I MAY be doesn't mean I let my impulses rule my actions," Sofia puts her hands on her hips. "Do I need to punch you again?"

>WE’ll be right over there Donna
"WE are not going anywhere," Sofia hisses after making her purchases, almost raising her voice before remembering that you are in a store. She points directly in your face with a definitive glare that shows she will not be swayed. "If you follow them, you can count me out. I'll call Bennett if I have to. AND I'll tell them you're following them."

She seems serious. So you do the next best thing and take the phone from her hands before breaking off into a sprint. Carrollo takes a few seconds to process what just happened before following you, her voice growing louder once you all are running the streets instead of being in the shop. "Read, you asshole! Get back here!"

---

You make it to the rollerskating rink and slow down to catch your breath. Sofia is about a minute behind you, panting and sweating. She slumps down on a bench and glares at you before holding out her hand to receive her phone. You finally relent and give it to her, and she sticks out her tongue at you as she wipes her brow.

"What are you doing here?" David asks innocently, causing Sofia to turn around. He's wearing a Olympia Thunderbolts T-shirt. "Ruth invited me to roller skate. Did you want to come along?"


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>>1980645
>Fancy seeing you here Donna. Keith come with you? He mentioned wanting to skate a while back
Play it off like it’s just one happy coincedence.
>>
>>1980682
>Fancy seeing you here Donna. Keith come with you? He mentioned wanting to skate a while back.
You're almost out of excuses, but hopefully you could play this off as an accident rather that the goofy sitcom-tier conspiracy this is. Donna nods, slightly to your surprise. "He... He stopped at the arcade and snack bar. So I guess everyone except Martinez and Bennett is here?"

"And Chris," David adds.

"Wait, is he even part of our group?" Ruth asks. "But that's not important. Let's just skate, then." She sounds exasperated, and skates partially alone and partially as a partner with David. Sofia is still chilly, and simply rolls around the rink absentmindedly, her eyes meeting yours from time to time, or following the others.

"Damn, so it's just like Donna said," Keith appears on the rink finishing up a chocolate bar. "Everyone's here."

Godammit, Keith. Everyone's eyes turn to Donna, especially Florez, who's angry with her friend. "You planned this? Why?"

"Why not?" Donna counters.

"Yeah, it's not like you're on a date or something." Keith shrugs, putting his foot in his mouth even further. "What's the big deal? I thought everyone was on board with this."

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>>1980960
This entire ball of raging awkwardness was glorious. Thanks for running.

>Statistics: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1p2K_evlFKjbblbSTf3ZSf-0xECyNHEeiQEgyiFdADcw/edit?usp=sharing
>Character: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1F43-0W17qNQ3Q_FwOOQPYw8Rf4HmSCFrEcAv-uOPQD0/edit?usp=sharing
>Tasks: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1agFmzgoNb0jeqd2G9H2voZ5Zm4N6fxPTQXQyt_GY9ec/edit?usp=sharing
>Rolling Rules: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1D6xlxpzfqF_rC2iemL-OGhFkNK4uiy8PZdvjkkdVBPU/edit?usp=sharing
>Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=shipgirl+commander
>Twitter: https://twitter.com/DiceToTableTop

You hear noise.

It’s muffled and indistinct, but you hear it.

Groggily, you open your eyes, finding yourself staring at an unfamiliar wall in a room that looked like it was freshly—and messily—repainted. You feel the skin of your eyepatch … only to realize that it had been replaced with what felt like gauze, along with the fact that you were out of your usual wear and were now in a hospital gown. You raise your back off the bed, your left hand running through the small bits of hair that were jutting out of the wraps of bandages that you found were around your head. The familiar scent told you that you were in some kind of medical unit—probably more likely than not to be a hospital, a makeshift one, probably, if you were still in Yokosuka.

You crick your neck, looking downward.


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>>
Rolled 5, 4 = 9 (2d6)

>>1981509
>BUY 86+81
>>
Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>1981509
>BUY 86+81

Shit, wrong dice.
>>
Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>1981509
>>
Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>1981509
Spend money on KanColle instead?
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>>1981710
You know I live in Malaysia, dude.

So what do I do with the Gacha? You win.

File: opener.png (2.24 MB, 860x1200)
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The sun had yet to rise upon Iti'a'Ropku as those that had awoken early turn their eyes skyward, a mental thrum reverberating through the Reconstructed city and its undead inhabitants. Even the living who did not possess a symbiot could feel the anticipation that seemed to echo throughout the streets. That sense of excitement swells as there were bursts of light visible in the lightening pre-dawn sky. The glimmer of the Charnel Vault and its accompanying fleet was visible from the ground, their shields catching and reflecting the light of the sun.

A corvette detaches from the Charnel Vaults hull carrying the most valuable cargo in the Necrotic Armada as it descends to the City of All Souls. Dawn began to break over the city as the hymns of morning rise up, beckoning the slumbering to awaken as well. It did not take long for the millions within the city to catch wind that a momentous occasion was unfolding, the citizens flooding into the streets as they look up and watch the sub-capital descend.

Flanked by flights of Nails and large Reconstructed the corvette descends toward the Necromancers Spire that rose high above the city of bone. A thin umbilical extends and connects to the ship, the silhouette of a human standing waiting barely seen from the ground. A hush had fallen across the crowds, only the sounds of the cold winter winds and the voices of the Chitin Choir carrying through the air.

That hush was broken suddenly but a swelling of cheering that rang throughout the crowds as a roughly spherical mound of bone, meat, and blood was carried off by a group of shimmering Dirges. Those within the crowds that were Legionnaires gifted with elemental capabilities, or even those whose potential had not been detected nor unlocked, could feel the waves of energy washing off the chrysalis.

A word began to echo through the streets, chanted by countless voices in a dozen languages and tongues, raising up until nearly the entire city rang with the name.

"Jadyk, Jadyk, Jadyk"

From within your chrysalis there is a stirring of movement and as Jor places his real hand upon it he can sense your satisfaction and joy.
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>>1981259
Thanks for running

I always love the RA bits.
I wonder if their hosts have any elemental potential
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>>1981259
It's all good
I do have a question, with all the captive akham we have and a dead matriarch, can we add to the research list discovering what makes a female akham into a matriarch? Is it age, some kind of royal jelly, the soothing voice of Ron Perlman?
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>>1981290
Let's be honest, the poor RA guys would probably be killed before we were able to talk to them...
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>>1981218
>Jor gives a sigh and runs his hand across his scalp, "No kidding. I do not like the part about how those we sent back to the Confederation have disappeared. Lord Jadyk will find that annoying I am sure.

We could widen this into a massive diplomatic clusterfuck that would be really bad PR for the Confederation. We delivered the innocents we saved who requested it into Confederate territory, and now we've heard rumors that they are missing. Other people from that system that are now under our protection want to know what happened to their friends or even family that left for Confederate territory, and to be ensured that they are safe and unharmed.

It makes us look good and the Confederation look bad. Whether that's what we want to do is another matter, since it'll get the people more on our side but the government less. I don't know if we can get enough public support to change the power balance in the Confederation.
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>>1981354
There is high chance our relation with most of the governement of the Confed will be bad anyway since we don't really like their...way of governing.

Popular support will be crucial in the future, because if we ( And I mean WHEN we) will enter conflict with the fed, it will make us look like liberator, not conqueror.



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