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File: 192847 human.png (1.79 MB, 2048x1024)
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Everything feels off today. That's the feeling my waking mind reacts to as I exit dreamland. I can see the sun shinning immediately into my barely open eyes. As always it goes fuck this and commands my hands to reach out and pull over the blanket that had somehow slipped under my head. Only for it to grab nothing but my t-shirt.

Awareness starts to hit me. My back imediately starts groaning that the bed is far less comfortable for some reason. I feel around and no, I don't even have a mattress anymore.
More willing than ever before I sit up from whatever the hell I'm on. "What the..fuck!" Somehow I find myself not in my room or anything that resembles my home. The place was to put it politely some sort of cramped medieval apartment. That's the best I can describe the place, lacking in doors or appliances. I can barely spy what looks to be a sink deeper inside.
Where the hell was I? Certainly not home, or somehow transported into Skyrim or something. The place didn't look like some peasant hut that's for sure. It was alien but familiar enough to not be from another planet. My mind jumps to immediately rushing out of here or searching around my new prison...agh, but that light!
Wait, light. The outside. I don't need to go out anywhere first! I turn around and shove myself over to the window side, l pull myself up to look out as the hot sun hits my face.
Only to see not a prison yard or a zoo. But an entire village of strange houses. That partly answers that.
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Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>6056607
>>6057047
>>
Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>6056607
>Some girl wants to borrow a fishing rod and enlists the SI to help her get one. Nothing abnormal here, no sir!
>>
Rolled 82 (1d100)

>>6056607
>>
>>6056600
>I can see the sun shinning immediately into my barely open eyes. As always it goes fuck this and commands my hands to reach out and pull over the blanket that had somehow slipped under my head
Have you considered light proof curtains? I have mine nailed to the walls around the windows in my room so as to always give myself the illusion that its dark, or storming. Its very nice, i also have different lights of different frequencies, like daylight white, red and infrared, green even, so i can simulate whatever benefits of sunlight that i want when i want, without having to deal with the negatives
>>
>>6056607
>What even is this?
>Welcome to Touhou:Perfect Salt Viewing. This is a quest where your goal is to torment my SI as he makes his way through Gensokyo
Oh. Sorry, this is my first time on this board

The mountainside plaza brims with millions of scaled ones – with Ngwenya, and never before have so many been gathered into one place. Before the plaza, an enormous temple – a vast, ordered assembly of slate, hewn from a neighboring cliffside. The temple shudders with the weight of their bodies; the breeze that laps up at the temple-top is saturated with squeals, grunts, coughing barks and harsh chanting of the lizardmen below. They chant with religious fervor to their master, their grandfather, their priest, their prophet, and in return, Umzukulwana regards his spawn from his obsidian throne upon the pinnacle of the temple, with his legendary spear in hand – looking upon them, the old, dull hunger rises in his gut once again.

Not for flesh, but for power.

How long has he prepared for this day? It is unknowable. It is not the way of his people - of the Ngwenya, to tally such things. It is said that are only the two cycles - the little cycle of the morning, the day, the evening, the night, and the Great Cycle of muddy wet season, brief frost-time, tempestuous spring, sweltering dry season - and they are endless. Umzukulwana does not know how old he is – and does not care, because he knows that he is strongest.

He will always be strongest.

Victory is finally here, after so much time... how many generations has he fathered, feasted upon and pruned weakness from? How many of his scaled children were crushed into mortar for the assembly of this temple district? His bloody maw, still drenched with the blood of his morning feast, opens widely, and his tongue waggles grotesquely in excitement. Above, the sun reaches its zenith in an endless blue sky – the time of awakening is here!

Umzukulwana rises to his clawed feet, his mighty claws gripping the midnight stone – his limbs are heavy with muscle; fresh scars are laid over ancient ones upon his weathered hide. His sturdy tail drags heavily over the roughened stones of the temple-top, the platform scored deeply by his mighty talons over countless sermons. His keen eyes, undimmed by time, gaze below at the endless number of his children and grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren – they roar, scream, cough, bark and hiss in adulation, a roiling ocean of scale and talon and reptilian flesh and empty bellies. The angled stone of the plaza has been carefully constructed with sluice-ways and drain pipes, leading directly below Umzukulwana’s temple platform – underneath, the central pit beckons, a bore-hole excavated over long cycles for today’s final ritual.

The time of awakening is here.
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Rolled 3, 2, 3 = 8 (3d3)

>>6066924
HP: 5/5 (E size, D stamina) || Amandla 4U / 6
[ Sze: E || Str: G || Sta: D || Spd: D || Spc: F ]
Element: Umhlaba (Earth)
Archetype: Umrhaji (Scavenger)
Milestones: [Scrounger],

Finally after what feels like an eternity, the great dance reaches its end. With a final
thumping of feet and clapping of the hands, a thunderous bolt of black lighting blinds strikes down from the heavens. It dissipates the black clouds above, blinding all but Thalroksin, the wanderer of the forgotten forests.
The lightning bolt only so much as grazes his skull but he feels the pulse of new life and invigoration swirl and swell into his soul...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETexCJATSe0


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Rolled 3, 3, 2 = 8 (3d3)

>>6066924
[Speed enhancements complete.]

[Current capabilities still insufficient. More components required.]

[Expanding structure...]

The sphere, done with enhancing its velocity and with its plates still retracted, begins spinning at an extreme speed, faster than it ever did. Soon enough, rare metals start tearing themselves from the earth, pulled towards the sphere along the path of an orbit, as if the sphere was a miniature sun or black hole pulling them in revolutions counterclockwise. The pull is, however, too powerful for them to orbit eternally, and a massive amount of matter collides with the sphere, sticking to it, fusing with it.

After an entire day, the massive amalgamation of material compresses itself back into a smooth sphere, catalyzing into the red material that compromises the sphere underneath the plates. Then the plates reappear and close on it, and the construct now possesses a diameter measuring at an imposing 50 meters long(Or however massive kaijus at size E are in your setting lesches)

>Action 1-3: Cash in Destroyer Milestone to upgrade to size E
>>
>>6067430
HP: 3/3 ((E Size + F Stamina) || Amandla: 0/5
[ Sze: F || Str: C || Sta: F || Spd: D || Spc: G ]
Elemental: Umlilo (Fire)
Archetype: Umbalali (Destroyer)
Milestones: Destroyer(Used)
>>
Rolled 3, 3, 1 = 7 (3d3)

>>6066924
I will spend my entire turn / all three actions trying to enter into a protectorate agreement with the settlement I am currently at. I'll do a lore blurb elaboration
on the details later, but for now that's the nitty gritty.

>>6067203
Wait, so are we able to trade Amandla with other Kaiju?
If anyone comes to attack me I might just pay them to go away.
>>
>>6067446
Yeah we can transfer, except if you're a destroyer.

Also uh, lesches, there's an exploit in Defenders gaining more amandla from transfers. Is two Defenders being able to print money exponentially by transfering to each other over and over and over an intentional mechanic?

“But can it ever be that what is borne in blood will not be bared by bone? Can it be that a Shadow is not true to the Shape from which it is cast? Much has been said about the low character of the modern city; near as much about those that dwell in them. Speculation is the trade of to-day, and the man of to-day is all the worse off for it, regardless if he himself speculates or not. The speculation of goods – commerce – promotes sloth, greed, and waste, all the while being as like to ruin the speculator as it is to sustain him. When fruits ripen sour and foul, there must be disease in the tree, no matter how handsome its growth or fecund its boughs. And as for the other stripes of speculation, in monies – usury – and in properties – lease-writing – are so nudely ruinous that no man even distantly approaching decency would ever need to be convinced of their nature.

Against the fallen Idea of the city is the farm. And against all of the occupations by which gain may be secured in the cities is the farmer. Of all of the occupations by which gain is secured, none can be held to be greater than farming. None more profitable, none more delightful, none more becoming of the Imperial Man, decent and Clean. Where the lessons taught by life in cities are undermining at best, life on a farm teaches thrift, industry, diligence and duty. As such, it is the smart man who looks far afield from the cities for a wife, and for a place to raise his children and dependents, surely, to a place quite similar to the one you have been endowed.

Due to the fractious holdings of the Arms, endowments are made throughout – and even outside – the Whole, so it may be that you will have to adjust according to your clime and soil, but as a rule, the best farms have vineyards situated right at hand to the houses and shelters of the establishment, with irrigated gardens, willow plantations and olive orchards nearby. Further away from the built-up center there should be meadows, grain land and secondary vineyards trained on growing trees. At the perimeter, there should be woodlands – bearing acorns, if at all possible."

- A passage from The Endowed Farm, a manual given to honorably discharged (and literate) soldiers when they receive their land endowment. It is a commonly held belief that good soldiers in retirement make for good farmers, though in practice many are not well-suited or even overly-desirous to take up farming, only requesting the land endowment for the 'two-legged spoils' that come with it – Brute concubines to be bred and civilized.
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There has been another delay. Apologies. Look for the update within three hours from time of this post.

> Gain one lucky tenth-talent [Nine Total]
>>
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You wrestle with the choices before you - and your lingering doubts and growing fears besides - as gamely as you can, but it seems that you aren't able to get your arms around any of them. Instead, you beat a retreat to the nearest seat, a surprisingly comfortable wooden bench, which you avail yourself of - setting your candelabra to one side, your bundle to another, then sitting between them, careful of the flames. Looking for virgin ground to work, you will your mind clear as if you were about to cast - but once your stomach starts roiling again, you give up on that as well, and pop what few pieces of bread you broke in your mouth instead. Feeling at least marginally better, you square yourself once again with the increasingly daunting question of your next few steps.

It simply cannot be gainsaid, you just don't have enough time. The Hour of Change is nearly spent, if it isn't spent already. If you were in the Belfry - right now - and everything was packed up, your affairs out on the Mount in order, then you'd say you'd have enough time to win your way through the sewers tonight. But you are far away from the Belfry, and there are still things that need to - or at least, should be - attended to out on the Mount. And you cannot lighten the proverbial load for your schedule any further, like you did earlier when you quit the Clerking House without actually completing and planting a forgery, as you had initially intended to do. By the Heights of Hell, at one point, you were even considering breaking into the Forum, to properly plant the Patents. Madness it seems like now; madness and tragedy. Where did the time go? More to the point, where can you find it? You rack your brain, but you cannot see any quicker way to deal with your cart - save for abandoning it. And that ... oh, no, no you couldn't. There is so much on that cart that you cannot buy; that you would either have to steal or just go without as it is irreplaceable. Where else are you to find a beautifully kept, presumably operational, hopefully complete Wall-Wand? Or those bizarre Nut-Nodules? Even things that you might be able to buy - like those pistols, for example - are going to be indispensable out on the road. No, these are losses that cannot just be cut.
>>
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The only other loose thread here is the False Graven Ball. To be sure, planting it will take more time than dealing with the 'cart, and be more dangerous besides, but ... foregoing that will have serious consequences as well. You need to plant the Ball. First and foremost, if - no, when - the Inquisition has Aldoin exhumed, they are going to be looking for the genuine Graven Ball. If it isn't there - and it isn't - then they are going to be looking for whoever removed it. And as you were alone with the remains while you were driving them on the hearse, suspicion will obviously fall on you - really fraying hard. Of course, it isn't enough that the Inquisition would be searching for someone who made off with a bit of Witchwork, no. That wouldn't be bad enough for you; no, for in your bid to do the right, responsible thing, you Remediated the remains, in a markedly not mundane way. So if you don't plant the False Graven Ball, near as soon as they open that coffin, they'll know just what they are dealing with.

There will be a Hunt called, for a surety. Still ... with the Refinery to distract them, would you have enough of a head start that Hunt or no, the Inquisition wouldn't be able to track you down? Knowing how far the Inquisition was along with their work off of Oiler's Wharf would allow you educated guesses, but as it stands you have little more to work with than hopes and fears. All the same, you try to work out how much of a lead you should expect, and how much of one you will need if there is a Hunt. But you end up going around in circles, and when you find yourself instead imagining that young Inquisitor you met, Ossavian, with his friendly face lit up and his full lips drawn back over a winsome smile, plying a beautiful debutante the shocking story about how he had by chance met the Witch that the Hunt he just served in took and destroyed, you conclude that you cannot conclude. If you do forego planting the False Graven Ball, then your head start might be a week, or it might be hours.

Even so, your father's words weigh heavily in your mind; you are to leave the Mount if he isn't back in a week. It has now been a full week since he left, so by any measure, your departure is overdue. Worse than that, you have been counting on the cover of darkness to remain unseen while you drag everything out of the sewers and onto the stage in the final stretch of your escape off of the Mount. If you aren't abandoning the cart - and you aren't - and you don't forgo planting the False ball - which you likely wont - then you don't see anyway that it is possible to get everything to the grates off of the drainage ditch so you may close this last bit of distance before sunrise ... which means that you will either have to do this in full light and plain sight of Outwall Belt - heavily trafficked, frequented by Guards - or you will have to wait well past sunset for the crowds to disperse and the night's cover to return.
>>
Neither of these are appealing prospects; but you suppose it comes down to your father's instructions. If you feel as if seven days was just an arbitrary number he threw out, then it would be well-worth taking the time to plant the False Graven Ball, and ensure that if the Inquisition ever do come looking for Sty the Leper, it is only because she may have been exposed to the Strangeness when she was transporting Aldoin to the South Burying Ground, not because she is in possession of a discharged Mysterious munition, and definitely not because she is a Witch. But if he didn't pull the number out of a hat, if he knew something is going to happen - perhaps with the same people he presumably fought at Aldoin's house - then as insane as it sounds, it might actually be worth accepting a Hunt in your future, if it gets you off of the Mount in time.

> Please choose ONE of the following:
> You will go through with planting the False Graven Ball, in doing so, giving up on leaving the Mount before sunrise.
> You will forgo planting the False Graven Ball, accepting a Hunt in your future while freeing up enough time that you MIGHT be able to leave the Mount before sunrise.
>>
>>6067377
>WRITE IN: Of all the many terrible fates that could befall you, the Inquisition holds the worst -- you MUST avoid a Hunt. But this does not necessitate planting a forged ball. If you were to dig up the grave and just *leave*, that would provide the Inquisition with an answer to where the graven ball went and why Aldoin is magically remediated, or at least with an answer that doesn't lead to you.

Okay, so here's my thinking here: the whole idea behind planting the graven ball is that if the ball *isn't* present then the Inquisition will know that it was stolen by the only person to handle the body between the coroners and burial: us.

But then I thought, if the Inquisition is already digging up Aldoin, we are already fucked because they will see his corpse has been magically remediated and know it was either us or the coroners, which still means detention, interrogation, discovery, and an extremely painful death. So in that way, it really doesn't matter if we plant the ball or not. The corpse itself will get us discovered

But, if we were to dig up Aldoin's grave and just leave it that way, the only clue for the Inquisition would be left with would be that *somebody* had dug up the grave and the implication that the same somebody had afterwards stolen the graven ball and remediated the corpse, with no indication that that somebody was us

So digging up the grave would change the perceived timeline to make it look like Aldoin was remediated and the ball stolen tonight, leaving no specific suspicion attached to Chlotsuintha

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Last time, you learned some details about Wilma’s post-tomato past, some obvious truths about Ichie (She’s a bad girl), and made some delicious pudding. Pudding, that you’re going to deliver as a posthumous gift to Odetta, who –for unknown reasons– is currently haunting your phone.

The team assembled for the scavenging is you, Wilma, and Matilda. Together, you leave the dojo for a totally unwelcomed adventure! The Not-so-young Wilma has mild anxiety out in the open, so she’s strapped by your arm for comfort: She cannot be left alone.

But where are you going? The answer is simple! Your destination is… huh…



Odetta lets you know that you’re going to the Hotel Sunset Men, the place Fiora Kobashi is currently staying at. And that’s the place to be. Fiora’s room. The witch does look like someone who’d keep a corpse in her room for the funsies.

Some other details flourish from the conversation, this international Hotel is pretty eccentric, hosting a full arrangement of foreigners from all over the world, and the place has its quirks that don’t make it easy to navigate. Hospitality sounds optional.

With your phone incapacitated (Odetta can’t make the apps work correctly), there’s no way to contact Fiora directly. These two don’t have her number, and neither you nor Odetta have it memorized. You could contact someone else who can give it to you. But that isn’t that exciting, is it?



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>>6057350
>>Let Anastasia go into the luggage. You don’t know if she fits though. The Sister will have to handle the escape plan.
The bride, no matter what clothes she wears, would be easily identifiable.
Best she is hidden for the escape.
>>
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“But you fit so perfectly like it’s meant to be…” Anastasia places her head on top of the briefcase and pats it. “I’m not like you, Cassie, I don’t have the gymnastics background to do so, anyhow.” The Bride-to-never-be stops acting so caring to her luggage. “My Ms. Spice bun bun’s concerns are well founded. I may outrun everyone’s glance, but any moment of hesitation and I run the risk to grab everyone’s attention without, uhm, *proper attire.*”

“How about you swap clothes with Matilda?” You propose. There’s an important height discrepancy, and build, and other attributes. But! Uh, you admit that these two have pretty distinct body shapes, but what matters is that both are very attractive, so it’s fine. The Scissors Koala said that it’s easier to make good-looking people pass for others! You have solid arguments from experts on the matter! It’s not even up to you, you just made a suggestion!

“You’re so incredibly smart, Mr. Ando! Not a soul will fetch me a look in such a mute outfit! Only Ms. Spice can look gorgeous in it!” Anastasia believes you’re the smartest man alive as tears begin to form again. She’s always crying, from joy or sadness. Matilda isn’t offended by the comment as it’s her casual gear. “We must hurry! Please, lend me a hand!” Once again, Anastasia wants someone to help with her zipper.

“*Now* you want to dress me like a bride?” Matilda deadpans. “Hold on a moment, you’re okay with him watching us undress here?”

“Where else? We’re hurting for time, my little angel!” The crying Soon-not-to-be Bride is desperate to escape.

“Have the decency to tell the guy to look away, Annie! Keep that dress pure!” The Briefcase shouts. “Maybe he can join me in here. He’s hot, like *hot hot*, right?”

“I cannot say, Cassie. He looks rather blobby to me...” Anastasia sounds apologetic for having a low opinion of you, whatever she meant by it. “Ms. Spice looks delicious to me.”

“Stop crying then! You can’t see a thing with your eyes all glassy!” The Briefcase demands an evaluation.

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>>6058265


“Let me...” Matilda walks forward to help before you can suggest anything. She already stripped down to the bare minimum. It’s sports underwear, a little more revealing than what she wore when you massaged her.

“P-Please, t-there’s no need…!” Anastasia gets redder in front of Matilda. She can barely handle her in that outfit.

“Do you need anything?” You offer since you’re doing nothing.

“Don’t stare so intensely...” Matilda slightly blushes. Your question was meant for the bride!

“Bwah~!” Anastasia pops out of her dress. “Free at last!” She jokes as she wipes her tears. “Oh the heavens~ You’re such a beautiful angel…” She’s mesmerized by Matilda’s appearance now that she sees clearly.

“Your clothes.” Matilda tries to hand Anastasia her outfit as she ignores the compliment. But Anastasia doesn’t respond. “Ms. Oexle?”


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>>6058266
Thanks for running!
>>
>>6058266
Thanks for running

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Within this ruined realm live a certain class of deviants who are neither outlaws nor quite explorers, but something in-between. Polite society tolerates them only begrudgingly, for on occasion, they are responsible for the recovery of ancient, long-forgotten treasures which, with remarkably little effort, pass through their hands for the more common and well-known pleasures of drink, damsels, and dice. They are called rogues by some. The faithful do not hesitate to label them as grave robbers and desecrators. A few are revered as heroes. But the title they have always preferred is simply: adventurer.

You are not one of them. You are hireling. A dogsbody, an assistant, on rare occasions a retainer, and perhaps one day, a companion. For the moment, your inexperience and ignorance have relegated you to the lowly tasks of carrying baggage and to serve as a canary in the dungeons they delve.

But how did you come to such an odd profession?
>You were master of a small dungeon once, but were ousted by a group of plucky adventurers. You've taken on the trade out of desperation, but also to study adventurers up close, so that your next villainous venture might be more robust to plucky adventurers.
>You come from a long line of hirelings and retainers. Your great-great-grandfather once served as the companion of Aleph the Dragonheart, whose name has passed into bardic song. The family business has fallen on some hard times, but you hope to change all that.
>You were once a moderately successful adventurer yourself, but time and chance have reduced you to an impoverished old man. Still, you retain all your knowledge and wisdom and hope to impart it on the newer generation.
>Write-in
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Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>6059791
we got a 12. Just squeaked by
>>
Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>6059791
>>
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>>6060152
BRUH
>>
Gonna suspend this one for now, folks. I have another quest idea that I really want to run (kind of a civ hybrid space trading simulator type thing) so I'm gonna give that a shot. Might reboot this some future time when I'm more prepared.
>>
>>6062504
thank you for signing off responsibly.

bye QM!

(lmao that 20 hit so hard it killed the quest)

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You are Jay Nakamura, an ordinary high school student and boyfriend to Jon Kent—Superboy. Your life took a turn when your friend and fellow Gamorran refugee Azim informed you about Intergang targeting your community. Determined to support Jon and defend your friends, you delved into tech and investigative skills, uncovering chilling truths about Intergang's collaboration with criminal organizations.

With the help of Jon's mother, Lois Lane-Kent of the Daily Planet media group, you gathered evidence on Intergang's operations, revealing connections to international criminal entities. An impromptu rescue mission went awry, leading to your capture alongside Azim and other refugees by Silver Monkey, one of many Chinese criminals collaborating with Intergang, orchestrating the kidnapping of metahumans, seemingly at the behest of the Communist Party of China.

Captured by Silver Monkey and facing certain doom, you were saved by the young and cocky Chinese Super-Man, Kong Kenan, who was conflicted about his role and national duties. Your combined efforts led to questioning Chinese official Zhang Wei, who admitted to reluctantly authorizing dubious operations under pressure from the Chinese government's Ministry of Self-Reliance.

Suspecting his family’s safety was at risk, Zhang reluctantly agreed to defect and testify in exchange for their protection. You embarked on a daring mission to retrieve his family incognito from Hangzhou, relying on your evolving understanding of Chinese language and culture. Amidst tense evasion, you successfully reunited Zhang with his family.

Faced with the challenge of escaping China safely, you considered various options. The best overland route was Bhutran, due to the small nation's neutrality and a remote landscape would provide refuge. However, concerns arose about dealing with Shadowdragon—Bhutran's Prince Savitar, a rogue figure with a complex history toeing the line between national heroism and international villainy.

(see https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6037271/ for previous thread)
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>>6061363
>>Contact Jon's mother, Lois Lane-Kent, and get the aid of the superhero community
>>
>>6063170
>>"No, that’s not true. I'm not a pervert!"
>>
>>6063170
:(
>>
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>>6063369
"No, that’s not true. I'm not a pervert!"

She takes her cell phone out of her purse and shows you a picture of your bedroom. "I took the liberty of investigating you, you know."

"I’m sorry!" you say. "You are my personal hero, and I respect you very much."

She pouts. "Well, if you respect me, then come closer and kneel."

"Kneel?"

"Yes, kneel in front of me."

You have no choice but to comply. Being so close to a beautiful, sparsely dressed woman makes you feel blood flush to your face.


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If you're going to make fun of the work I put into this quest, then I wish you would just let it die instead.

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Your name is David "Gunny" Rockefeller, no relation.
A veteran of the united states marine corps, you find yourself in a far-out situation after an all-too-close encounter of the third kind!

In the last thread you returned to Xebric station and found it absolutely riddled with issues, including pirates, resource scarcity and the deactivation of many of the station's Nanofabricators.
But you didn't return from Earth empty-handed. Now armed with all of earth's knowledge and a few good ol' boys who you'd happily trust your back to, you're feeling pretty good about it.

Right now, your main concern is the bug infestation which has caused a food shortage on the station. With thousands of people to feed, it's something that needs taking care of immediately.

The pirates who had been pecking at your dying station like a flock of vultures were almost immediately handled by one all-out volley from the Metal Gear, which left you with quite a few prisoners.
Two hundred more mouths to feed is nothing to laugh at. Ordinarily you aren't big on slavery, but for a bunch of pirates who are lower than dirt, it makes sense for them to pay off their debts.

So after about half a week of training, you separated the wheat from the chaff and formed about twenty teams of ten to go on a bug-hunt.
It's only a temporary solution, but if you can bring back some good live samples for Doctor Lyna, she might be able to devise an effective poison for them.

That's why you'll be going personally as well, to ensure you get the samples you're looking for.

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>>6067411
YOUR FEELINGS FOR HER ARE NOT REAL.
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>>6066653

You stumble out of the medbay and into the hall, unsure of where to go.

A Kelbhund and Jek'na are standing out there, chatting while they eat.
They turn their attention to you briefly as you come into view, and point you in the right direction.

Your nose catches the scent of something delicious as you near the kitchen, but you're stopped in your tracks as the door opens, and a second human woman steps out with two plates of food.

You momentarily hope one of those is yours, but she continues on and takes them both... into the bunk room, apparently.
You catch a momentary glimpse of a very elderly-looking human lying in one of the lower beds there.

This crew is so confusing to you.

Continuing into the kitchen, you find it absolutely packed, as it clearly wasn't made to hold this many people.

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>>6067416
I could go for some sparkling cider now. Thanks, you fuck.
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>>6067416
Toss this boy a proper southern lemonade and watch him get diabetes in real time.
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>>6067416
ew indirect kiss

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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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>>6066928
What, is she going to rescind time ring rights for other Supreme Kai?
Or intercept the super dragonballs if it seems like Zammy might use them to wish for something equivalent to temporal independence?
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>>6066933
I mean, she'll probably notice him hopping timelines right off the bat and start asking questions Zamasu just isn't prepared to answer.
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Extremely impressed that Chilli could get a knockout against hit, considering the gulf in raw power between the two. He's a tenacious and clever one, which is possibly the most dangerous combo for a Saiyan.
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>>6066928
The Supreme Kai of Time is competent.
>>
Reminder that, as I'll be heading home on a 12 hour drive tomorrow that the next episode won't start until the weekend of the 3rd/4th.

>>6066933
When someone abuses them, probably.
>>6066936
True. But can Zamasu take Aeos or escape her, or will she take him down?
>>6067160
Yes, he was almost done in just two strikes. Without the Archon form, Chilli would have been folded like laundry.
Absolutely. The key weapons for an Archwizard, after all, are cleverness and intelligence. Combined with his tenacity he's quite the dangerous foe.

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You are the demon lord, a powerful succubus who has conquered and now reigns supreme over the world of Silth. Humans, elves, and dwarves alike bow to your will, subdued by your mighty demon armies. But victory has grown tiresome. Your palace, though grand, feels like a gilded cage. Even the once-fearsome Hero languishes in your dungeons, his spirit broken.

A new quest forms in your mind: seducing and subjugating the Hero to your will. The Hero, a fair-haired, baby-faced champion, renowned for his prowess in swordsmanship and magic, once stood against you. Now, he's a prisoner in your palace.

>Flirt with him, perhaps even blowing a teasing kiss.
>Initiate a formal trial against him in the Demon Court.
>Subject him to incredibly harsh interrogation techniques.
>Write In
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Rolled 3 (1d3)

>>6057929
>>6058216
>>6058600
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"I have only brought one tent. Will it be okay for us to share?"

"I suppose so", the Hero answer. "It’s better than sleeping outside and getting bitten by a demonic mosquito."

The tent has barely enough room for both of you to lie side by side. You quickly drift off to sleep, wrapped in a sense of comfort.

In the morning, you awaken to find the Hero's arm draped over you, his head resting on your shoulder. You lie still, careful not to disturb him. This moment fills you with a warm sense of tenderness; despite being a 10,000-year-old succubus, you have never experienced intimacy. All the male demons were defeated by you, so none was worthy of you. But this human, strongest among his kind, seems different, perhaps even your equal.

After a while, he stirs from a nightmare, jerking awake. "Sorry, I was having a dream about the castle’s dungeon, being tortured and trying to escape through the corridors."

>"Yuusha-sama, as a hero, you should not be such a coward. A little torture is nothing to fuss over."
>"Did you find it comfortable sleeping on my shoulder? It felt warm for me."
>"You should learn to enjoy torture, Yuusha-sama. It’s a standard part of foreplay."
>[Write in]
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>>6059278
>>"Did you find it comfortable sleeping on my shoulder? It felt warm for me."
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>>6059278
>"Did you find it comfortable sleeping on my shoulder? It felt warm for me."
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>>6059278
>"Did you find it comfortable sleeping on my shoulder? It felt warm for me."

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Sapphire syrup sloshed inside a tall metal pod that hummed in a low pitch. Caressed by the thick liquid, a fetus no more than twenty weeks curled up, held in place by myriads of wires. The Emperor of Mankind and Malcador examined the machine in the deep cellar beneath the Imperial Palace, no one else, not even his trusted custodians.[i/]

“The primarch project is already underway, we have no use for it. You can use it however you wish.” The Emperor said.[i/]

Malcador softly hummed, his robe hid whatever expression he had. “There are many use for it, a buffer perhaps.” He continued hearing The Emperor’s silence. “The primarchs will be brothers and brothers will naturally compete. They will seek your approval as all sons do. She will be a buffer, someone to be impressed and to distract the primarchs of their competitiveness. Someone who appreciates what they do. If she is proven ineffective, then a political tool of convenience.”[i/]

“The primarchs are not children and will be above such emotions. It is inefficient to create this just so my sons can feel appreciated. The primarchs are tools of war.” The Emperor said without a hint of emotion.[i/]

Malcador nodded. “But still human. They will not be an emotionless tool that you want them to be.”[i/]

The Emperor paused for a brief moment, then stared at the pod. The fetus twitched its leg.[i/]

“Begin the procedure. Create her as you see fit.”[i/]
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>>6066224
>Be under strict guidance of the Captain General, you will learn discipline to curb your insufficient behavior.
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>>6066224
>Be a serf to the first legion, you will learn the value of duty and honor there
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Captain General
>>6066232
>>6066287
>>6066405
>>6066446
>>6066552
>>6066561

The Angels of Death
>>6066782
>>6066499
>>6066421
>>6066376
>>6066324
>>6066322

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>>6066899
Rest easy friend.
I'd like to see the Emperor and Malcador examine the thing that Pangea found.
I hope it's actually somewhat serious and gets him canned.
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>>6066899
The occasional POV change to see how our actions affect those around us.

Your main character is you from real life, but you are at least 18 years old.
One summer day, walking down the street, it started to rain with a thunderstorm, after which lightning struck you, but you got to Moscow in June 1941, on the day of the outbreak of war, what will you do, I hasten to remind you that everyone speaks Russian here, and the Soviet government can accept you for a spy, if you speak English.

The rest of the story will be led only by you in the comments.
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>>6053069
No worries. After perfectly predicting every single loss and purge USSR suffers from, they're going to pick up on that eventually. On bright side, I get to eat for free.
>>
All right, 06/29/2024
the first event you said happened and they believed you, the next day the NKVD came for you and took you away for interrogation. What will you tell them?
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>>6053089
I explain to them that from birth, I've been seeing muddy visions of the future that only get clearer when I focus, and I tried warning the general populace when I saw that World War Two would break out, and bring unimaginable scale of destruction to the motherland. I request that they release me and bring me to Stalin, so I can continue sharing valuable information with him.

The next order of action is simple: I amass followers and influence within Stalin's cabinet and pretend to be the most die-hard commie out there, only wishing the best for Russia and USSR as a whole. Feeding Stalin some conflicting information about the people I wanted to be purged wouldn't be hard once I got into his trust circle, and neither is recalling Zhukov's future successes. My knowledge isn't perfect, but I'll be able to relay major events and explain how to minimize casualties, maximize victories, and prepare for the inevitability of thousands, if not millions, still dying during German attacks and genocides. This should be enough to help Soviets win faster than they had originally.

My main goal here, of course, is making sure that Stalin names me his successor and getting all potential enemies removed from power or executed. While extremely risky, this is way better than wasting my life away during the war or working in a coal mine.
>>
they believed you and appointed you Minister of Defense
, and then the winter of 1941 came, the Battle for Moscow
Your actions:

* I will write tomorrow, but if you also want to write a denouement, write, you also have the right to do so.*
>>
Russian QM, this is an interesting premise for a quest. I would recommend looking at other quests here on this board to get a better understanding of typical formats though, so that more anons will be inclined to participate due to a familiar layout of posts.

Hi folks. Maybe you remember me from "Left Beyond". Maybe not. It's been five years.

The world has changed a lot since then -- we got a global pandemic, the rise of generative AI and its use as a logistics and propaganda tool, drone warfare. Any similarities between this and that are, I assure you, intentional.

This is sort of a "testrun" for a more detailed quest I've been working on. This time around this is just for fun and I won't try to make predictions about the state of the world in the near future.

I will be using some material (mainly the map) from the old game Burntime, one of the predecessors to Fallout.

Expect this particular sort of wasteland to be a lot less forgiving than Fallout's though...

OK, enough with the foreword.
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Did you guys blew it? Oh well that sucks
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>>6058916
>>6059095
>>6059245
>>6059356
>>6058862

That's interesting, actually.

> Axle
> Miria
> New character
> Mulligan (Axle and Miria get to Vash in time)
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>>6062425
>New character
And to speed it along in case New character wins, I'll also include the other chargen votes:
>+Rigging, -Stealth
> You have to bend this way and that, but you've learned to do it carefully. You're in your forties or early fifties. You can take one strategic action per turn, with a large bonus, but your stamina is lowered and you'll have difficulties running away from things.

High age means more experience makin' and fixin' shit. Also means our knees creak real bad when we try to be sneaky. But doin things the smart way should mean we won't be needin the stamina required for most things.
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>>6062427
Sure seconding
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>>6064448
This me, QM wants to mulligan so let me vote in favor of that.

You are Mouse, the ogre. Although raised by humans you found yourself in service of the dark elven queen - and with her blessing you have embarked on a quest to purge the corruption plaguing the very world you live in.

And currently, you are alone in the darkness.

No, that's not strictly true. In fact it's about as close to the exact opposite of truth you could go without discarding the concept entirely - something, that in fairness would not perhaps go that far against your monstrous nature.

But you found yourself holding to something better than that.

You are not alone. Even though most of your companions are out of your direct line of sight, you can feel the echoes of their struggles, and chorus of their hopes, close by, through a combination of your own heart, senses for the supernatural interaction between light and darkness, and the soothing, comforting presence of the goddess Laurentia that has been your companion on this daring venture.

You were, however, most assuredly, as close as you could get in this physical realm to the focal point of all the darkness in the world as you knew it.

And you were watching its principal servant in this world, the mercenary general Vult, locked in a duel with a woman you hope you've learned to know well enough to call your friend. You were watching the duel, for now, as little more than a spectator, held back by a mixture of faith in her conviction and unwillingness to disrupt something you were unsure you had any right to.

The deadly dance before you had a rhythm and a beauty of it, in a manner of speaking. After initial onslaught that the mercenary princess Maia had skillfully negotiated with one of her blades, the leader of the Black Dogs settled into a somewhat more conservative fighting tactic of switching between defensive maneuvering and rapid, savage attacks, with a measure of periodicity you were sure was specifically meant to lull and entrap his opponent.

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Before you begin to formulate your choice of how to respond to this situation, the silence is broken by a clapping sound. Then, another. It’s a slow clapping, one Smutkin at some point told you can be a mockery of an applause.

Colour me impressed, aberrant.. The voice comes back, this time without even pretending to come from mouth of a possessed man. It is not often I am robbed of someone who gives himself to me willingly. I will admit that your way of wielding words is formidable.

“You still don’t understand.” You say as you process the insinuation that you were manipulating Vult to remove him from the fight.

Don’t waste your breath trying this on me. Comes a reply. You will not find me so easy to fool. However, in recognition of your very particular strength, I’m willing to extend my offer to you one more time.

“The answer is still-” You don’t even have to think about this.

Before you say something you’ll very briefly regret, consider this. All your efforts are in vain. You may have prevailed in your egg measuring contest, but your self imposed mission is a hopeless failure. My minions are already harvesting their due among those you’ve set out to protect.

The blackness recedes slightly, and shapes emerge from it. Shapes teeming and numerous, shapes packed thick against each other and engrossed in motion.

Energetic, organic, primal motion.

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>>6063289
>>Argue with the Beast, mock it to come out and fight you.
>>
>>6063289
>This seems like it’s specifically made to get a rise out of you. Meditate.
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>>6063289
>This seems like it’s specifically made to get a rise out of you. Meditate.

>My minions are already harvesting their due among those you’ve set out to protect.
Ah, yes, surely the being that uses deceit and despair as weapons must be showing us the truth.
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>>6063289
>This seems like it’s specifically made to get a rise out of you. Meditate.

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You are a goblin. A foul-smelling and cruel little creature of little acclaim that exists to be bullied and pushed out by stronger and longer-lived races.

Recently your clan was pushed out of the small cave that housed it by an armored adventurer in full iron armor and a red plume on his grated helm that was hired by the village nearby. You had kidnapped some travelers to use as breeding stock and meat and turns out one of them was the village chief's daughter. While regular villagers and the occasional crop theft weren't enough to be ignored, hurting the chief's daughter was enough to pool the little money the village had to send a formal quest to the adventurers guild.

Now your entire clan is dead- killed by that strange Goblin Slayer. And you're stuck fending for yourself in the forest you had run off into away from the Goblin Slayer. Luckily you found an abandoned cabin that was only in a mild state of disrepair or you would've succumbed to the elements. Your days consist of stealthy berry gathering to hide both from the predators in the forest and in case the Goblin Slayer is still looking for you.

One day during your berry gathering after finding a root of plants that seemed healthy, in a flash of light a heavily-wounded human with long black hair and an impossibly gorgeous face appeared before you.

"HA-HA-HA I DID IT!!!! I MADE IT TO A NEW REALM. I SHALL RECOVER HERE AND PAY BACK THOSE ORTHODOX BASTARDS HUNDREDFOLD."

As the strange person derangedly monologues the earth starts rising around them and you can feel the air crackle with raw power. As you start to back away in fear the strange person suddenly coughs blood and tumbles over.

"AAAAARGGHH CURSE THE HEAVENS!!! I AM GOING INTO QI DEVIATION. YOU THERE- CREATURE! HELP ME AND I SHALL PAY YOU BACK HUNDREDFOLD. CROSS ME AND I SHALL CURSE YOU AND YOUR DESCENDANTS FOREVERMORE. GIVE ME THAT 5,000 YEAR OLD GINSENG IN YOUR HAND."

As they start writhing in agony you get a closer look at them.

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>>6067234
While Seafood lounges in the tree shade fanning himself with a palm, gently killing the tree and the grass he's lying on, you set off into the woods for food.

When goblins hunt it's usually in groups of four or more. You get better odds coming at something from four directions, even with just thrown rocks and wood spears. You might even get a Humie, if you don't mind alerting the locals. At the worst one of you gets killed, say, fighting a babwyn (an eusocial and aggressive great ape; a chimpanboon); the rest might just snag his body, or whatever of it is left, before fleeing, so that they can laugh at him while eating his remains; so that they have the energy and morale to plan and try again. Why NOT eat the fallen? He's not feeling it, but YOU are: YOU are feeling LUCKY it wasn't you. You are feeling STRONG because you did not DIE; you are stronger than HIM, and you tomorrow will be STRONGER STILL than you TODAY.

But alone. Oh alone. There's only once chance to win, one head to lose. Alone, if you fail, it is you who are weak, and if you win, no one else will see. Alone is worst. But you are STRONG, Toady, even when alone. You are BEST because you are YOU.

Seafood wants wine and blood; there's plenty of both in the wilds if you're smart about things, patient, and not picky. You'd really rather hunt if you could, but there's no certainty in that, especially alone. If you failed, not only would you have nothing, you might be bitten, or poisoned, or gored in your attempt, you will have also failed your Seafood. No telling what he might do to you THEN, if just asking for a little plup-plup from his borrowed body resulted in THIS:

>¶¶¶¶A A A A A A A A A A A a a aa aaa...
>...aaa aa a a A A A A A A A A A A A¶¶¶¶

Her presence is SO weird, hanging on your back just screaming at you big weird-like, and she's starting to give you a kind of a headache in the eyeholes, but at least it doesn't seem to get any worse, and she doesn't bother you while you're doing your real business: sniffing and rooting for grub.

Seafood said GuiLi will keep moaning through your noggs like this, and will keep getting louder over the course of days unless you do the Conjugal Performance Ceremony, Six Times for every Thirty Six Times. You already memorized the instructions for the Ceremony because it's IMPORTANT, and as you go rooting the ground, upturning rocks and rapping for hollow trees, with half a mind you remember the additional materials you're supposed to get. Whenever you find something that might fit the bill, you put it either in your armpit or your bag with the grubs and tree sweets.

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>>6067281
As you mash and roll a march of termites crossing your path into a reedy sausage -

>nrekk! stink! ant spice! but gotsa save the nice uns for later...

-and crunch some Drake Tail leaves for moisture-

>nyurhhh! sooo bitterrr! but lots moisture... nrrrh!

-you see a sudden break in the canopy, a waterfall of sunlight streaming in.

>Nuh. Big tree fell there. Big, big. Fat-like big; old-old.

The break in the canopy is big, but there's lots of new thin branches from other trees reaching into the heart of the sun.


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>>6067319
Culc grow as tall as every other tree here in order to break the canopy. What's different is it's bendy throughout the trunk, smooth as an egg on the bark (the youngest part, near the top, gets as smooth as wet marble), no branches up, and at the top, a single huge bulb, like a closed tulip the width of a watermelon, and inside, one seed-heart in a pool of ferment.

Twice, perhaps three times a year the culc will sprout fruit and mature, and when it does the sweet licky stinki will waft for miles, drawing small birds to come sip, and big birds for a drunk lunch. And below, on the forest floor, the fragrant culc draw babwyn, who fight over who gets to climb and get the fruit (taking the first sip for sure), and when it is retrieved, fight about whose turn it is to sip, and who did more work, and how much is much.

The babwyn fight each other over the prize until one or two die. The rest, more peaceably drunk, finish their binge and sleep it off, leaving the culc seed-heart in the midst of bloodied ground and new dead flesh.

The new culc, if it takes the ground, grows to full height in about eight years, and in twenty the culc bulbs mature in their growth cycles to strain their nectar sweet and vent their petals humid. And the sweet licky stinki will start wafting up in a new place, marking violent death from twenty Full Suns since...

Welp! The babwyn are at it again in this place. A few have been brained all around the biggest trees, and there are no others around; must have gotten too wounded while fighting to climb.

You get going immediately. Hiding your big bark-bugg sandwich in the middle of a thorn bush, your bunch of fall-trap catches in a tree, you start climbing by hugging the culc with your arms and legs, then tying ankle to ankle and wrist to wrist with vines. Using the vines as a brace rope, and leaning your body out as a counterweight, and sometimes stabbing the fuggen slippy culc bark with your Dagger for an emergency grip, you make it to the top. There you help yourself to several drunk birds, eating them live. They chirp, too late. Ahhh. Too, too late. Nice.

Then you pull the petals fully close, bind it with more vine, and start a staggered, sliding descent.


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>>6067337
Aaaand of course he isn't. He caught his own supper while you weren't looking, just sitting where he was when you left him: an old woodcutter, and his old donkey.

Well, you can't really tell if they're old: he just drained them so thoroughly their flesh turned black and wrinkly, their eyeholes sunk empty, and their mouths fixed to an unquiet scream forever. Gnarly.

"You're back are you?" says Seafood, from under the dead-blackened palms leaves over his face. "You took so long, I had to have a snack without you."

Psss, a snack. He calls this a snack. This is BIG supper for six, when you had six of you. You know your Seafood is showing off, intentionally making you feel weak and small. You don't hate him for rubbing it in your face and smirking under the dead palm leaves: it is correct and right for the strong to laugh. The strong SHOULD laugh. You only envy him, and pity yourself, and get jealous, and think how you might steal his lot, or get stronger than him, and take from him. All this is natural. Nothing wrong. Obvious logic.

"What have you got? Come. Show Shifu."

You do, and without asking or thanking you he takes the drop-fall catches from your armpit and the wrapped culc from your shoulder, and proceeds without ceremony. The heart and liver of the catches he digs out immediately with his fingers. You watch him pop them into his mouth, your jaws following his, swallowing as he swallows. (Oooh, you really wanted those!!) But you don't show what you feel. You darent. You've learned not to. Another of Seafood's little lessons; useful, useful. They keep you safe, most of all from Seafood.

When he's taken all the nice bits he holds the whole lot of the catches together, and opens his mouth. His teeth sure are weird for a Humie. He has a few too many, hidden in muscled pockets at the sides, and the roof, and the tongue. The catches give out a thick mist, a mix of bright and dark red, and it all goes into his mouth. The catches dry up as he gluts, their outer surface losing color along with thickness, their faces drawing longer and longer in that endless scream. You don't look away. You never do. You wonder if there is any chance you might do the same.


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>>6067360
When he's done with the culc he hurls it crashing into the trees. You just flinch, not looking behind to see where it lands. If he sees your interest he might totally wreck that place, and then there'll really be nothing left.

"GHAAAH! Good wine! Good wine! Oh, your dear darling Shifu forgot himself. Do you want some?" He's smiling, bright as a daisy under a poison cloud, gesturing to his drenched chest, his soaked lower garments. You lower your eyes.

"Nnnot dursty, Seafood."

"Ah, so all's well then! I'm gratified to hear. Generosity sets the table, and Harmony eats it clean! Haha! But, my dear darling Tudi, what about you? Haven't you anything for yourself to eat?"

"Nuurh. Jus dis." You show him your big bark-bugg sandwich still in its wrapper, and he yanks it from you, greedily cutting the vines, flinging it wide ope-

"...this? You...?"

"Yah."


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0776 Solar Era, the broad umbrella of Earthnoid rule has extended beyond her immediate vicinity as the power of the mobile suit made innovation, engineering...and war, so much more brilliant and trivial as hundreds of years on and off, we're spent in killing each other. Earthnoids amd Spacenoids, the Awakener and Resolute, Colonist and Overlord, all this and more has haunted humanity in the name of spacial advancement.

Was the cost too high to progress ever onwards, the morals and individuality we lost? Perhaps there is yet an small but enduring hope left, on the red planet known as Mars...can the creation of the ancients save this foolish and brash race? Only time, and the power of one's own heart, will tell.
-
On the red planet, two individuals would soon come to blows, fighting one another for their own beliefs, but only one may prosper down this road of possibilities, until another path forwards reveals itself...

[Calza Fen Damerro]
An young test pilot of the Solar Federation's Guilty Judge Unit, he has been put under intense alterations and conditioning to become an Artificial Awakener(Cyber Newtype Equivalent). He believes that through his own strength and sacrifice, he can change his own fate, and that of those he holds close to him. Now all that remains is an operation to claim an machine dubbed as Gundam.

[Rakelle Yen Valskev]
An young woman who is an researcher on xeno archaeology and technology. From the first mobile suits found on the moon, an complete machine has never been found, until the day you saw it. The Gundam, an Relic that the old civilization called the catalyst of change, for good and I'll. Now all she has to do is unlock its mysteries...
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>>6055287
>Go on the offense.
>>
>>6055287
>Go on the offense
>>
>>6055287
>Go on the offense.
>>
>>6055287
>Go on the offense.

Sweet, finally another gundam quest. I miss contolist and the feddie guy.
>>
I always get to these Gundam quests just when they die..


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