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Often times it comes to a point in a mans life when the World begins to drag behind him as he heaves forward towards the reaches of space. The outward reaches of time we drastically changing and yet all he can do is continue. Sophisticated or not. The path is always the same for the man with little to no time to continue. However he has little to no time to compare. The radical that emerges within a man for a rite of rights is never left to chance when he senses his time nearing an end. Orlando has never been one to question the hands on a clock. He always left to chance the fundamental excitement of exchanging his words for a book. The books that filled the world were never addressed as anything other than informal wits and half eaten plates of pasta. Orlando being a man of age had never ridden a bike faster than he could peddle but had certainly left his mark on the library. Organised or not his hands were never good for anything more than turning a page in disgust of the last man who had crinckled the pages before he had touched them. Orlando needed a change in pace. Orlando needed a change in location. Before he had realized he was tall enough to be 6'3 he had committed acts of distrust upon the locals of his town. Sold out and cheated, gambled and lied, arranged his mind to spit before calling it fair. "The sooner I leave the better ill feel" he assumed aloud before reaching for a knife in his pants. Orlando rushed the bank with knife in hand telling the teller "get on the fuckin ground puta". From the glass reflected glow on the ground of the pavement screams could be heard from the elderly man who was the only patron and a clear sign of disbelief on the face of the young bank teller who had only started the day before. She had blond hair, blue eyes and darker than pink lips. Orlando had reached the point of his life where he realized its all about building upon the teachings he was given as a child.
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>>
**10:00pm** as expected the world is still unaware of the change of worlds that is moving from A 2 B. The non sharpened edge of a razor is not worth more than the effort it would take for you to end your life for a fixed location in a setting only seen with a superior body attached to the legs of a point of view. Attempted to revolt against the self and failed. This is the line of sight that the "i live today and die tomorrow" attitude is masking when they exclaim. "Lifes good". As Diego makes his way through the web of streets circling the park itself. Heiroglyphics that once made no sense on the walls now speak stories to diegos mind like a book with secrets to tell. The signs of the world below are gone. The night prowlers avoid the glow of Diego The Rippers presence in the well lit lights path of car car light post car. Diego is heading towards a dream only those who live it can see for themselves any hour of the day they choose to he aware of more than what is bothering his body. The echo of cars in the distance is a clear sign the city does indeed lack sleep. **11:00pm** "im getting close the car park isnt too far from here.
>>
As hes walking an image of a black car in the carpark that he knows is where he is heading is able to be seen in his head. The man he hopes is not Mr Kloo is either too big to be seen or is indeed some sort of other worldly being with arms legs and a head. At least. According to Marco. "Mr Kloo is a man with no real evidence of him living to begin with" "names dates friends family are all shrouded in" "maybe its like this" "his presence is one of significant terror" "even the pedophiles have avoided his dealings" "hes a man with little say in the world" "hes a man with nothing to gain that we can see with our minds want for greed and glory" "Mr Kloo had a time before he had a watch" "Mr Kloo had a basic change in his altitude before he knew he could fly" "Mr Kloo had a void of terror the day he let the criminal basis understand he was indeed the man they wanted to speak too if they had a deal to be done with any man who had life to live". By the sounds of it Mr Kloo was some sort of Government Man. At least thats what it sounds like. The depths with which ill go in order to sit on a table like that is above the natural means of survival. My charges will be deemed a humanitarian crisis. My charges will be deemed black booked marked off and forgotten. My charges will be deemed "he was only seen once". My charges will be deemed its a miracle he was able to conjure up the levels of life needed in order to ensure the life he wanted was carved by the severed hands wrist bone on a living victims willing central nervous systems perceptive nerves orifices. **11:45pm** "theres the clock tower". Just through the park and ill be able to see the empty lot for cars. The sound of the ticking from the hands that acknowledge weve circled a space in space on a rock is as strange as it gets. Is it mechanically knocking on our ears. Or was it fine tuned and set to sound like that?
>>
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As Diego approached the car park a strange air was forming around the treeline. Cold sure but cold enough for fog to be forming? "Surely not" as he stood at the edge of the carpark itself. Images of kids playing on a playground began to reel through his mind. The sounds of saws being sharpened and the feeling of his wrists being sliced wide open began to emerge upon his flesh like it was factual. The only thought he had ever thought in his life sounded like a trumpet. "DESSSAK". **BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP 12:00AM BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP** Slowly a car that was black in appearence arrived to the location and parked in the park he saw in an image he was sent earlier within in his mind. A window rolled down and a hand gestured for him to approach. As he got closer the sound of saws being sharpened and NAILS scraping against corroded iron sheets began to get louder. The closer he got the less air it felt like he was able to breath. As he reached for the door and opened it. His mind forced his eyes forward and the coldest of hands touched his legs. Tadaa thankee for feedin me bulldogginit.
>>
Sir this isn't the board to schizopost in
>>
Sir, did you just post half of your opus in bad faith to force strangers to read it?

Bad show, sir.

make this a Quest or desist at once.

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Quest Synopsis: You are the body guard to a prince(bratty), if any harm befalls him you lose.
Thread archive: https://fiction.live/stories/The-Prince/6eqhcmdNsSDdgtmcP

After a moment a pure violence, all that's left of two of the harpies is a pile of bones and sinew. When they all focused their attention on the prince, you took that moment to explode forward and turn them into meat. No harm shall befall the prince, and any who take him away from you will suffer death. You draw your bow and aim for the final escaping harpy.

Your blood lust is denied however, as the prince leaps down from the nest. You are forced to drop the weapon into the blood below in order to catch him. The very moment you reacquire the prince, you are filled with a great sense of relief that pushes out the rage. He doesn't look very happy, firing little daggers out of his eyes right at you. He is NOT impressed by your ability to dish out a gratuitous amount of death in a very short amount of time.

"What took so long?" He struggles to be freed but you do not release the prince "Unbelievable, first you let that disgusting creature capture me! Then you insult me in front of the kidnappers! 'couldn't even feed a coyote'? Would you be happier if I was a whale?!"

"My prince, I was simply attempting to trick them. You are plenty meaty."

"Oh? So you think I'm fat then? Ill tell papa about this you can beat on it!" He boots your chin with his foot, but still you do not release him.

"If my prince believes it is prudent to do so"


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>>
>>6049336
>-Chase the rat that stole your coin purse! You need that to buy the prince a gift
Shoot almost missed the new thread
>>
>>6049336
>Forget the money, chase the rat that tricked you! She has much to answer for
>>
>>6049336
>-Chase the rat that stole your coin purse! You need that to buy the prince a gift
>>
A little busy this week guys, sorry about the missed days and such but that's probably going to continue for a day or so longer. Lots to do
>>
>>6050620
Don’t worry about it.

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The Eternal Empire has stood for 14 millennia and has endured hundreds of wars, calamities, and rulers of every type. In the twilight of your reign, you’ve demanded to know the truth behind your Head Advisor’s unnatural longevity, and now watch with bated breath.

Even surrounded by the Royal Guard, you feel a deep sense of unease.

>Previous Threads
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Simple%20Space%20Empire
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>>
>>6051133
>Felicity
>Let her choose
She has a wide array of options since she seems to have a lot of interests and she doesn’t appear to be mentally unstable in a violent way so this is a safe choice
>>
>>6051160

Support, she seems like she’s a natural athlete. Would wonder if she has a career in space athletics or something?
>>
>>6051160
+1
>>
>>6051142
>>6051160
>>6051161
She’s a natural tomboy.
>>
>>6051142
Support. We need someone to take over from grand-aunt Angelica.

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With the Supreme Kai of Time Chronoa dethroned, the Demon God Dumplin beaten, and Karn's whole family now able to live in his timeline, things have been looking up for the Saiyan General. But all good things can't last forever. And when conflicts arise between deities, mortals are inevitably caught in the crossfire. Does Karn, the Berserker God possess the strength to protect his family, people, world and reality from their fickle nature? Or are the beings above mortal ken also beyond mortal reproach? This outcome may be up to you.

You the players control Karn, wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul. Granting him the power to fight against gods and other divine beings, to resist their influence and strengths. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has now become the strongest Saiyan of his time. With the power of the Berserker God, combined with That Which Should Not Be and having devoured a soul born of the Abyss itself, his strength is now unlike anything before seen in his reality. But will this newfound strength be enough to overcome the threats headed his way? Only time will tell, your choices can spell the difference between success and failure.

Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork here: https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM

Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice

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>>
>>6051724
>Merus trying to recruit Broly
The Galactic Patrol are real opportunists in this timeline, huh? Atleast he tried.
>>6051736
Well, step one would have to be revoking the little script kiddie's admin access if we want a shot at beating the tar out of him. I don't know how we'd do that, though
>>
>>6051825
Well, mostly the literal angel who just lost to a mortal son of the divine hierarchy's mortal enemy in a fair one-on-one fight. But yes.
Good luck with that, he's behind seven illusion and time distortion evasion spells.
>>
I just had a concerning thought.
How did Fu even get into our timeline in the first place?
The scroll containing our timeline is ON Mechikabura's person right now. This means there are 3 likely scenarios that occured;
>1. Fu came into this timeline and acted with Mechikabura's approval
>2. Fu managed to enter our timeline while evading Mechikabura's detection
>3. Fu tried and failed to enter our timeline while evading detection, but Mechikabura let it happen anyways
The first scenario seems very unlikely given the Dragon's Pact we have with Mechi. The second also feels unlikely given Mechikabura's diligence and expertise.
The third scenario, as a result, stands to be the most probable and also the most concerning. It would demonstrate Mechikabura opportunistically weaseling out of the pact in such a way as to drive our growth (at the expense of the peace we fought so hard to establish)
I hope I'm missing something here, because none of these scenarios mean good things.
>>
>>6051845
>How
Magic. He can cut through dimensions, not needing the Time Scrolls to hop timelines. Also, 1 and 3 are not necessarily exclusive to each other. And OOC Moro sensed Mechikabura through Fu's portal. Now, what that means for your timeline and/or Fu is to be determined. As for what Fu actually did, he only undid Towa's extra protections. He'll remain under the Grand Supreme Kai's spell until and unless something happens to kill Ginyu. As his body never split, ergo the spell sealing Moro away never broke. Her spells would have simply ensured he wouldn't escape even if Buu's body (or a major part of it, like in Z) dies.
>>
24 hours to go until the tournament begins! Who do you think will be the first one out? Find out this weekend when the next episode begins!

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It is the spring of the year 1254. In Mithras, the archipelago has shattered in pieces as the ancient empire desperately calls for aid from the accident, with heathen fire-worshippers encroaching upon their heartland. In Castana, a man stands imprisoned as the princes, merchants, and bishops bicker and scheme, and the eagle from beyond the mountains casts its wings over the land. The crusade was already called in 1253, but the armies are just arriving now, eager for glory and absolution. But not all come to Mithras out of duty or zeal; some come for the gold, others for the land to be gained. But all know one thing: whether they are noble or commoner, chivalrous or knavish, heathen or faithful, steel shall clash and blood shall flow.

When you left Rittersbach, you had expected there to be a lot more gallantry and battle. Those hopes were rather quickly dashed when you now still stand looking at a man behind bars; in a rag, not even the most humble of monks or destitute of beggars would be caught. Guy of Guisbes is different from the priests you usually deal with. A rebel against his own hierarchy, resentful of the bishops, deacons, and cardinals. Still, with him incarcerated, there is not much he can do; he is politically impotent, and his planned monastic state seems to have slipped from his fingers. Cardinal di Cremolora put him in the custody of the Gonfaloniere, the ruler of the city, and if you were to free him, you should first temper his radicalism; he is dangerous, after all. He speaks both Tauten and Aurilén, and could control his followers by virtue of being the only one able to speak to them.

''You claim that the church is full of corrupt and power-hungry men, but now you are attempting to create your own nation? Is that not dishonest of you?''

''I do want to take over myself, at least not without heavy limits and check on my power. The episcopal model has failed in my eyes, monks and the laymen should both be able to elect their own leaders, these leaders would then cooperate with each other, one attending the secular needs and the other the spiritual.''

Well that is one question answered at least, though there is a other one, members of the clergy are banned from bearing arms or actively fighting, how would he defend against those who don't care about Curian doctrine?

"Wouldn't that just be a society that will be attacked and taken over by a more militant, centralised state?"
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>>
Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>6047693
>>
Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>6047693
>>
You are not a genius with languages; that much became clear when you frustrated your private teacher into giving up for the rest of the journey. You are incompetent with the foreign letters, and you only end up making it a mess. Still, you do grasp the bare minimum, so maybe you are not completely hopeless when it comes to learning languages.

Three rolls of 1d100 please

DC 70 (Base DC: 50+Alotoran shipping +20=70)

Crit-fail: The tempest: a storm is brewing, and it is too late to escape the fleet is caught in a storm.
0 Success: No wind: because of a lack of wind, you are forced to rely on galley rowers and you come late.
1 Success: A small breeze assists the rowers of the fleet, and you arrive just in time.
2 Success: Good winds give the ship a push; you arrive right on schedule.
3 Success: A pleasant wind and calm waters gives you a fast voyage. You arrive a week early.
Crit-pass: A sharp gust of wind: The gods seem to smile upon you, a hard wind blows the ships way ahead of schedule, and you arrive early.
>>
Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>6050309
>>
Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>6050309

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A world where might makes right. A world of Jade and Gold, of Phoenix and Dragons, of Pills and Talismans, of Martial and Spiritual arts.
A world where diligent training yield strength, meaning freedom. A world where loneliness means death, meaning social chains.
A world still unfair, as the ones reaching the heavens are most likely born rich - be it political riches of the aristocrats, power of secret knowledges and hidden realms of clans, or lucky enough to be born one-in-a-thousand genius.

This was not the case of Quiet Word - that is, (You).
Your current skill level being on par with said genius of your age? Lucky encounters and a knack for navigating social situations.
You know a fair amount of technic for such a young cultivator, but your strength lies in the impressive amount of Bonded Spiritual Beasts - A Hawk spirit, a Horse spirit, a Snake spirit and a Wolf spirit.
Speaking of that last one, you didn't told a world about him to anybody. As a scion of the Primordial Wolf spirit, its father warned you of its worth and how people could want to rip it away from you.
Said worth comes from its ability to Fuse without restriction - fusion being a secret of the higher ranking of your sect, secret you have almost completely rediscovered on your own. Alright, the Primordial Wolf might have helped you on that point.

Recently, your sect, the Eastern Branch of Tamers of Hundred Beast is currently under political attack from the Symphony of Gilded Waters.
This sect attempt to increase their relevence on the global scene by stealing some of yours. They are backed up by the Turtle Copper Sect, as your senior brother Bathias discovered.
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>>
>>6052034
>Search for high-value spirits to sell to the sect
>>
>>6052034
>Search for high-value spirits to sell to the sect
Let's not get soul eaten by a kaiju
>>
>>6052034
Damn I always pictured Ryota as an older guy and not fucking jacked.

Also guess I forgot Ai has rainbow hair.

>Prioritize "easy" catches. The more the better.
Bathias said we'd get injured so maybe start easy
>>
>>6052119
Ryota is canonically looking around 25-30. Also I'm trying to consistently depict him as short and buffed.
>>
>>6052120
He is the boar man. Of course short and buff fits him. Assuming properties and characteristics about other cultivators by their mere physical appearance alone is a quick way to court death in wuxia, isn't it? Imagine a fat fuck that turns out to be some hyper-flexible spirit beast tamer, or somebody insanely ugly that's a cultivator of a completely unexpected path and specialization

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Due to your weight and timid nature, you've always been a target for bullies. Everything changes when your father passes away. Unable to afford the rent, you and your mother move back to your father's family manor, a place he had always despised.

Bored one day, you decide to explore the abandoned basement, a dusty, neglected space. By chance, you discover a secret door with a staircase behind it. With some apprehension, you descend the steps and find a narrow tunnel. A black monolith stands at the entrance, with an ethereal, glowing blue handprint that seems to beckon you forward. Compelled, you place your palm on the handprint, close your eyes, and think about:

>Brainwashing others into doing your bidding
>Writing people’s names in a notebook to cause their death
>Summoning succubi to support you
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>>6051595
>Apologize, repent, and tell him you accept any punishment.
"I'm... I'm sorry, Headmaster. I never knew my grandpa and nobody ever told me anything. I thought I might find answers here, but I've betrayed your trust."
>Rub our eyes with our hand, like we're trying to keep it together.
"I... I don't even know what to say, sir. This isn't like me."
>>
>>6051595
>write

>act as mature as you can
>a fatboy koomer with a Coke addiction.
>Since we now know the Headmaster's real estimation of us, we are toffing this up.
>TheRegency.exe
>"Headmaster, I am prepared to face the consequences of resolving what I consider a pressing necessity.
>"My father is dead, as is my grandfather, and I am without living relation on either side of my family, save my maternal grandmother.
>"My grandfather has conferred to me a significant estate yet without instruction as to its maintenance or disposal.
>"There are things I must know that cannot wait for graduation.
>"I must be my own man, and if I must be a thief and a scoundrel so I shall. But a man."
>>
>>6051595
>>6051844
+1
>>
>>6051627
supporting

I'm sure brainwashing him is the last thing we should try.
Also we should make moves on Elizabeth later. Preferably only slightly using our powers on her. It should feel earned when she falls for us.
>>
>>6051844
add

>accept responsibility and repercussions
>for both yourself and Apinya.
We have already murdered two strangers unprovoked: Sgt Schubert and Sgt Warner of TTPD. Being anything less than Sigma now is unacceptable.

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Since previous thread is almost out:

Welcome to Standard Fantasy Nation Builder. First, start with providing description of your future nation.

Fill this in:
>Name:
>Leader's name:
>Race(s):
>Color(for if/when I get a map):
>General location:(mountains, jungle, plains, ocean, lake, etc. More detailed the better I can make a map..maybe)
>Fluff about nation:
>Fluff about leader:
>General magic practises or other speciality (for a magic-related bonus, can be replaced with tech or situational bonus, too, so it doesn't have to be magic, but make it ONE)
Don't fill this in:
>Population: 10000

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>>
Rolled 3, 8, 84, 80 = 175 (4d100)

>>6051241
Whoops dice. Last three on the citadel
>>
Rolled 6, 70, 5, 72, 92, 43 = 288 (6d100)

>>6050480
>>Population: 11300
>>Power level: 3
>>Tech Level: 3
>>Bonus:
>+5 Research
>+1 Defense
>>Buildings
>[Mage School II], [Magistrate II] [University II], Academy II]
>>Techs
>[Construction II], [Bureaucracy IV], [Magic Theory III], Material Science I, Chemistry I, Magical Mechanics I, Zaryte Forging, Magitech Production I
>[Confederated Bureaucracy II ®] [Army Professionalism I] [Crafting II], [Standardized training III], Research Method I, Ship Building I
>>Military

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TURN 125

>>6051323
>The Mountain Confederation
1-6) What a waste of POWER
>Power level: 4

===

TURN 126

>>6051241
>>6051243
>Silver Guardians
1) Well, this is weird... where are the miners? (6/10)

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>>
Rolled 56, 9, 99, 7 = 171 (4d100)

>>6051616

> Silver Mine II: Fearing the worse the golems are dispatched to sort out the issue... or recover the bodies.
2 Dice

> Guardian's Citadel™: A good start, now to follow through!
2 Dice
>>
TURN 127

>>6051655
>Silver Guardians
1,2) The missing miners probably just went back to Theia some roundabout way... anyway, the excess ore is on its way to be smelted
>Building
[Silver Mine II]
>Other
Silver Ingots (1/1)
3,4) The defenses are put in particular around the outer limits of the capital, but also around the SIlver Vault. But the citadel is more than just walls, thou... (32/?)

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"In for a penny, in for a pound. Lets do this."

Hawthorne just gives you a sly grin and his eyes have the faintest shine of pride, or maybe respect.

You both enter through the massive doors, the towering figures on either side of the door feel, almost, like they're staring you down. Watching your every step with a cold calculated logic. Suddenly you realize it's coming from everywhere, the clouds of Police, Security, and City Employees. The unblinking black eyes of CCTV cameras in the corners. Your hair stands on point, you are being watched by every one here. With a sole exception.

You beeline straight for the desk towards the only person not paying you too much mind. A mousey woman reads a soft-cover book at the front desk. 'Grave News' reads the title. Your tight stomach relaxes when you notice a familiar name engraved into a near copper nametag shines out to you: Deborah.

"Deb?" You ask as you approach, pointing a finger from your hip.

"Oh? I'm sorry do I know you?"

"Uh.. no ma'am. But I am a friend of Detective Bennett."

"Thomas?" She asks, quietly.

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>>6051996
>Wherever it lies will suffer the fate of Gotham two-fold. To place it elsewhere is to save this city at a cost equal to two others.
I don't think anyone will miss Detroit or Baltimore. Or Seattle. Or Chicago. Let's be real here there's a lot of cities that we'd not miss in the slightest. You're telling me we could get rid of San Fran or LA? Shiiiieeeet. Fuck it, ship it to Beijing. You know what, Pyongyang doesn't deserve to be here.
>>
>>6052006
+1
Get it over with
>>
>>6052006
+1
>>
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>>6052019
>Or Seattle
There's a donut stall in Pike Place that I quite like actually, so I begrudgingly say Seattle gets a pass.
>>
>>6052019
Canonically, Gotham is worse than all those places, at least tge American ones. There's no city you dislike in the USA which Gotham can't outdo about the aspects you dislike.

>>6052001
>"How about you talk to Kimble and I talk to the Commander?"

Anon, you have the power to control gingers.

(Except when you're near the Netflix/Disney headquarters there you can control an anagram of the word gingers)

Ahem, which redhead do you control?

>Jessica Rabbit

>Poison Ivy

>Mary Jane Parker

>Kushina Uzumaki

>Karen Gillan

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>>6042123
>>6042262
>>6042335
>>6042494
>>6042857
>>6043275
>>6043424
>>6043977
>>6044029
>>6044664

Of course, you're gonna do what any straight man would do and have sex with Starfire all night every night.

In fact, you'll be burying your dick so deep inside her that anyone who pulls you out will be crowned king of England and you're gonna keep fucking until you pass out from exhaustion/dehydration.


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>>6044678
>Just some dude
>>
>>6044678
>Average faceless teenage male harem protagonist that all redheads find irresistible for some unknown reason
>>
>>6044678
>Just some dude
>>
>>6044678
>Just some dude
... with emissions like that of a male zebra.
Go ahead, look it up

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You are Charlotte Fawkins, dashing heroine, detectivess, adventuress, heiress, sorceress, etcetera. Three years ago, you drowned yourself in a quest to find a long-lost family heirloom; nowadays, you're just nobly c̶a̶u̶s̶i̶n̶g solving problems with the help of trusty retainer Gil, and MIA snake/father Richard. Inexplicably, many people tend to "dislike" you, though you've never done anything wrong in your life.

Right now, you have determined that the best way to descend to the lower level of sinister corporation Headspace is to jump out of a window. So far you have yet to be proven wrong. Not by Gil, whose yelling has subsided to unintelligible muttering, and who is valiantly failing to break your fall. Not by gravity, which is off its game: you haven't hit the ground yet. You can't tell if there is a ground to hit. You've jumped straight into the terrarium-mist, the one they probably need all those window cleaners for, and it's thicker than it looked from the outside. Warmer, too. You'd hardly know you were falling if not for the terrible mounting pressure in your ears.

You seem to remember something about that, the pressure change between manse layers. The interim eases you into it, or something. Falling straight through doesn't. Boring Richard stuff. Well... it's fine! It's not like you're going to explode. Even if Richard were here, he'd tell you you're not going to explode. Even if your ears have knives in them. Even if there's a scalding hot-poker feeling right at your collarbone. You're not going to explode, because you're not stupid Rudy Doheny, and you are not Headspace Corporation. You are Charlotte Fawkins! And you and your 400 beetles are hurtling toward glory, not to mention the imminent void. The actually imminent void. The mist clears, your ears scream, the string around your neck dangles empty, and you fall from darkness into blackness.

>[-2 ID: 8/14]

The interim is supposed to be white stairs and white doors, but you guess Management deemed those passé: they're gone, ripped out, replaced with fat, twisting tubes. This is good, in that you're less likely to smack face-first into a sharp-edged object. This is bad, in that you're not able to change your trajectory, and a tube gapes open under you. You yelp as you thump into its lip, bounce off, and begin a ricocheting slide downward. Gil, dislodged by the impact, says something intelligent like "Fuck!". You maintain a determined silence— your ears haven't gotten worse, but they're no better— and attempt to hang onto your dignity. Once again, thank God Virginia dressed sensibly. This is not an occasion for skirts.

(1/2)
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Rolled 95 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>6051878
MURICA
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Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>6051878
The dice gods have blessed us! But will they continue to do so?
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>>6052003
They will not!

>>6051888
>>6051894
>>6052003
>98, 100, 23 vs. DC 60 -- Success

You still pull it off, though. Writing.
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Nope, had to drop everything to help a friend in need. This thread isn't going smoothly, and I'm still going back to work next week-- I'm considering calling it here very early and picking up after work/art season ends (ETA ~2.5 weeks), since those two things are consuming my time and attention at the moment. Let me know if you guys would prefer continued sporadic updates or if you'd rather take a break and pick up later. (And happy belated 4th to all Muricans in the thread!)
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>>6052022
Sporadic updates pls

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A young girl leads her geese to pasture in the green fields of the Meuse valley, somewhere near the outskirts of her place of birth, the small village of Domrémy. She is a homely ginger, shy and introverted, has trouble making friends and her peers perceive her as an outsider. They occasionally throw stones at her and she cries, relaxing only in the embrace of her gentle mother.

The sun is in its zenith and there are preparations in her village. Many of the men have returned defeated but alive from the war against the Burgundians, allies of the English, and every woman in town is now busy with tonight's festival thrown in their and Saint George's honor, the patron saint of all participants in bloodshed. The sky is absolutely clear, azure blue to where the eye can see. The young girl relaxes under the shade of a mulberry tree, away from the commotion and the troublesome folk, enjoying the calm honking of her geese.

Suddenly a purple lightning slashes the sky in two, the thunder is instantaneous and deafening, now there is a figure standing strong in front of her. The sight of the being is overwhelming and the girl only manages to whisper

Who are you, Lord?

The bringer of light from the morning moon, #%З!ѝЦ§c)+ the name itself comes out so distorted that the girl needs to cover her ears, as if an otherworldly whisper and a shout announce it at once. The being looks gracefully at her, understands her pain and eases his voice I have chosen you to carry my will and these are my blessings he says ever so gently and lovingly. The being is more than mighty and more than gorgeous, so much so that the girl's cheeks are now covered with tears of passionate admiration towards him. A kiss on the lips follows... oh, what ecstasy! ... And the being is no more, leaving his blessings behind. The girl becomes Jeanne Dark.

She picks two:


1. Ethereal and wise, a miniature creature appears on Jeanne's shoulder, whispering helpful advises for the treasures and secrets of this world, and the next. Her oratorical skills improve drastically. Jeanne gains [Familiar's forked tongue] and a loyal friend until the end. Stacks with [Whore of Domrémy]


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"After that night the legend of Joan d'Ark spread across all French lands and beyond, her feats, fearlessness and monastic way of living gathered tens of thousands under her banners. Even the cynical nobility and the pompous clergy had to make way for her, throwing their forces in her ranks, fearing the rowdy peasantry behind her. After dozens of successful battles in open field and the fall of several English-held fortresses, the sieges of Brétigny, Patay, Formigny, Castillon were won decisively by the French, with Joan always in the first line, always first on the walls, becoming an exalted living legend for everyone that followed her. In the siege of Calais, the final piece of French soil under English rule, Joan was severely wounded in one of the attacks but disregarding the appeals of Christophe and the rest who have been following her zealously for years, she participated in the next day's attack. Ridden with fever from the grievous wound, again leading from the front, she collapsed while climbing the ladders, but while falling, thousands of knights, man-at-arms and veterans from both sides swear that her body never hit the ground as none other than Saint Michael, the Archangel himself, sliced the sky in two with his terrifying sword and rushed to grab her body, proclaiming aloud that "The earthly soil is not worthy to house the flesh of this maiden and no man alive is good enough to await blessings from her saintly bones", taking her to the highest heaven, as he promised her so long ago. She left our realm at age four and thirty."

"Did the French win the day?" the boy asks.

"They did." the mother replies with a smile and blows the reading light, tucking the child for sleep.

...

Twenty-nine years had passed since that evening's bedtime story and the boy, now a grown man known as Antoine-Charles-Louis Lasalle, general in the army of Napoleon himself, was bleeding out in a field close to Wagram, Austria, after leading another reckless and ferocious charge from the very front of his hussar forces. With his last breaths he proclaims his love for God, honor and France, adding a final sentence "I hope I matched at least a fraction of your congruence, my dear consort eternal..."

Two weeks later an elderly woman enters the forests in his estate near Leon. Making her way through the woods, she finds a small chapel and enters it. Inside she sees a golden cross on a pedestal and below it - a stone coffin containing only a ripped piece of clothing, ancient blood still smeared on it. On one of the stone sides, gold plated letters read

"toi qui ne connais pas la peur, je t'aime de tout mon coeur

The crone respectfully places flowers underneath them.

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>>6044876
>>6044879
mfw anon is so based and impatient that he makes his own ending so the quest doesn't wallow in the unwritten misery of inconclusiveness.
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>>6044876
>>6044879
you still had enough following to continue this if you wanted, but I respect you finishing it earlier rather than abandoning the quest.
>>6044887
why didn't you also try rolling, anon ?
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>>6044901
Because I was playing Death must Die all weekend, and the addiction didn't end there.
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>>6044905
Alright, fair

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Fate had been cruel to your people. From stories you were once told your band was a thousand strong, soldiers from an old-world military unit. Now you lead twelve warriors, still fiercely militant and hardened by the wastes.
Now you see signs of civilization around, caravans flush with water and food making deliveries to settlements. Ernst, one of your lieutenants had once spoken to you the idea of abandoning your lifestyle, and joining civilization.
He argued with you,
“The civilized people have more manpower and ammunition than we do, every raid we take casualties and eventually we will be wiped out.”
You think carefully about what he says, taking care not to reveal anything through your facial expressions.
“What do you suggest lieutenant?”
“I think we join society, captain. We could survive as a mercenary company in the cities and prosper. The way that things are going, we can’t survive the coming years.”
You sigh, “I will consider your proposal.”
You step out and take a walk. Your camp lies in an old court house, its upper levels have collapsed but you can still find shelter within. You find an office with a skeleton slumped over a desk. You toss the it aside and take the chair for yourself. On the desk a family picture was propped up. A nuclear family happily smiling, you consider your own family of wasteland raiders almost complete opposites from this dead man whose skeleton you tossed aside. You consider his comfy chair where he must have worked for money, money to buy comfort and necessities. Could you really live like him? Could you work for someone else and leave the lives of your family to the whims of of some greater society like this man had?
No.
You toss the chair off and kick the man’s skull against the wall and move back to speak to your people. As you walk by they perk up from their rest.
“My soldiers, continue to sleep after I speak, for the hunt is still on for the night but let it be known it’s a different kind of hunt. Tonight we’re taking control of a civilized settlement and from there, there will be no more petty raids. Tonight, we declare war on the world!”
Your people triumphantly yelled your battle cry as if you already won, but it would be a long battle.
>Assault the small family farm. [Easy]
>Assault the junk town settlement. [Medium]

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Remember, we are not stealing their money we are destroying it. Consider that for your planning.
Staging a huge fire would be excelent, explosives too. I wonder if we can dig a hole through the roof or from an adjacent store or house... if there is any of course
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Hey players I’m sorry I don’t plan on finishing this story. So Trax was supposed to figure out a way with the thieves guild to break into the bank where you find the coin mint where you’d get the choice to either destroy the press or to put it into overdrive and inflate the currency to the point it was worthless. Then the raiders would gather at Bill’s old farm and begin the attack but over the course of a couple of combat rolls you’d take a lot of casualties. You’d then break into Arnault’s mansion where in a final encounter with his guards your forces would either get pushed out and you return to the wastes or you kill Arnault and take over merchant city. All is not well though and soon after the thieves guild denounce you as a warlord and begin a war with you. After some years of fighting there’s only a few of the original raiders left. You find Gimly became corrupted in Junk City and you execute him. Some time later you organize some public event you find a spear shoved in your back by none other than your most trusted officer.
Thanks for reading I just can’t finish it I’m sure you understand.
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>>6050387
Dang, that's a shame.
But thank you QM for telling us at least. I know how it is with life and stuff.

Hope you find luck with what you do, thank you for running!
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hey you finished the story (sort of) and that's an accomplishment
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Stunning, brave, etc.

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“I will decide upon those when I hear back from them.” You state to Neila’s question of rules of engagement for your patrol boats.

“Sir ? If you send a message, I doubt we will be able to pull anything off besides a simple punch.” She questions you, finger hovering over the tablet as she was about to send out your orders.

“Better risk it now than lose it later. Who knows, they might be friendly ?”

“If you say so, sir.” She eyes you with clear suspicion, but still defers to your judgement.

“Comm centre, how copy ?” You direct your attention to your own pad.

“Good copy, sir.” The woman manning the station responds in a swift and crisp manner.

“I want you to begin transmitting my words towards the general area of the arrivals, use the Argonaut’s systems to bounce my speech off it.”

“Copy that, sir, wait one.”

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Upfront cost: 300 standard materials worth.

House Salb will lease the given area of Thunor, with the agreement lasting 70 years at a time. Any Produce in the form of fish or foodstuffs is seen as the property of House Salb, with only a 2% income tax from the Thunorian government. In exchange, any construction done within the (insert solar system name here) done by House Salb or its associates is seen as jointly owned by both House Salb and the family Hadrada. If the agreement is not renewed or broken due to unforeseen circumstances, Family Hadrada will then pay for the remaining costs of the facilities within the system as reimbursement to House Salb. The payment being able to become a Loan if House Hadrada is unable to pay due to unforeseen circumstances at the contract's end.

Any non-Thunorian citizen working for House Salb in our solar system will work under the labour laws and legal codes House Salb chooses to follow when interacting with one another, with any interaction between a Thunorian citizen and a worker or citizen from House Salb happening under Thunorian law. As such if a worker of house Salb punches a Thunorian, the charges will be processed in a Thunorian court. Any Thunorian working for House Salb will be held to working standards fitting the Thunorian health and safety regulatory laws or noble which the Thunorian worker is ruled by.

House Salb and its ships are under the protection of Thunor within the system, with the caveat that this does not include legal protection from extra-solar law enforcement if such forces are working with the Thunorian government or the threat to the Thunorian state pose an existential risk to the state and its people at large.

Any ship bearing the flag of House Salb is free to trade or repair at any station held by the Thunorian government, only needing to pay with the base materials for the repairs. House Salb will also be given access to trade food off-world with a 15% discount on all food goods produced on the planet.

second version of the agreement.

(Some comments about things which might help this agreement will be mentioned in my next post)
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>>6051536
So, I have some ideas on how to make this agreement even more enticing.

Since they are potentially loaning out parts of our shoreline, I was thinking that if we were to get the terraformer machine and maybe 10 "pieces" of farming equipment, then we could mention to them that our next goal after calming the massive storms is to move into the flatlands which were mentioned to exist on this landmass.

With the discount on foodstuffs, we could sell these food goods to House Salb, and they could expand their food trade to not just include Fish, but meats vegetables and fruits as well.

This planet could become one of their largest sources of goods if they were to take this agreement and a potential safe haven for their house's ships to shelter when travelling to trade with the two extremist empires up north.

Maybe we could even ask for a discount on the terraformer and farming equipment if we talk about the trade of these and initial agreement cost more like an investment in our colony as a future supplier rather than just as a normal trade?
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>>6051536
I'm fine with offering his deal.
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>>6051536
oh yeah i should probably modify/clarify a few things so that the agreement isn't gonna be a nightmare in actuality if they rules lawyear this.

"Any Produce in the form of fish or foodstuffs is seen as the property of House Salb" Is meant to be within the area leased to them. Any foodstuffs made outside of that area is not subject to the terms of the agreement other than the discount.

And secondly, the loan is meant to be one without interest. So while it can be paid over time, it will not increase over time either.

>>6051546
good to hear :D
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>>6051536
>>6051540
>>6051633
Sounds good. Consider my vote from >>6051175 to be supporting this.

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The year is 3801. Kriti Krazy is dead. His reign of terror is finally over. With the region free from the grip of a warlord, new wandas have started coming in.

You are going to take advantage of the influx of wandas and open a bar.

What is your name and gender? Also, pick a class. Some conflicts in your journey will be difficult for some

>Landah (Black)
+All-rounder
-Nothing special
>Biker breakoff (Green)
+Old friends
-Old foes
>Paintman (Yellow)
+Beautybod
-Paintsick

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>>6042189
>>6042188
highly cultured choice of you, anon
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>>6042188
>>6042190
+1
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>>6042189
> P U R P L E
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OP, it's been almost a week
are you still here?
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>>6042189
>G R E E N

Being on the main thoroughfare means always being the first to suffer collateral damage if there's a gangwar, so the crossroads are bad for a complete noob on solo. At least wait until we have enough people or money to franchise.

Green is good because it is closer to the outskirts, so we get wanderahs automatically while filtering out the Drag Queen and the Cult, who are complete unknowns. Customers +, threats -.

Being near Luther is not an immediate problem, since they only rob richies.

the mercenaries have money, and the joyriders have equipment that imply money. Customer ++.

>>6042190
>maximum risk maximum reward
That would be Purple: the darkest side of the city, closest to the mutant cult. Change your choice and I'll back you. This Quest can go from 0 to Lovecraft in 6 seconds.


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