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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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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.
you still had enough following to continue this if you wanted, but I respect you finishing it earlier rather than abandoning the quest.
why didn't you also try rolling, anon ?
Because I was playing Death must Die all weekend, and the addiction didn't end there.
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?
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
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.
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!
hey you finished the story (sort of) and that's an accomplishment
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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Rolled 49, 84 = 133 (2d100)

Rolled 76, 44 = 120 (2d100)

Rolled 84, 66 = 150 (2d100)

What about the replacement for Kealan

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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)
-Nothing special
>Biker breakoff (Green)
+Old friends
-Old foes
>Paintman (Yellow)

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highly cultured choice of you, anon
> P U R P L E
OP, it's been almost a week
are you still here?
>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 ++.

>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.

G´day /qst/
im creating this quest specifically for those waiting for HeadQM´s return to the Disappearing Hogwarts Quest, however, if you are not familiar with that specific quest, or the Wizarding World in general, you are also free to join in, im trying to make it as welcoming as possible for everyone, regardless of knowledge on the subject (its not like im an expert at it either, i just love the setting, so everything here could have conflicting information at some point, just keep in mind this is all in good fun while waiting for HeadQM´s return).
with that being said, this quest MIGHT be related to Disappearing Hogwarts, taking a very lose inspiration and might have vague references to it, yet, its still a FULLY NON-CANON quest
now, let the story begin!
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You hear a voice.

A dark voice.

An impossible voice.

The voice of something that should not exist.

It calls your name.

“B R A N D O N”

You don't like it.

“Y O U W I L L D O”

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You are back in your room, lying on the ground.

Your head hurts and you feel sick, like if you just ate the entirety of a candy store, wrappers included.

You painfully stand up, your entire body cracking with each movement you do to lift yourself from the ground.

You stumble a bit, trying to reach your night table to support yourself. It doesn't take long for you to find your footing and the table.

You support yourself on it with both arms and move your head slowly side to side, gently shaking the dizziness out of you. You forcefully blink a couple of times and stare at the crystal ball that's sitting right in front of you.

The black fire that you saw in the empty room, it's INSIDE the crystal ball.

You recognize it this time, it's not just black fire or black magic, it's the same thing that you ate inside the void, or at least it looks like a part of it.

It's swirling inside the ball, it almost behaves like a liquid, a living liquid that reacts every time you get close to it.

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it tooks 3 days, but i hope this update was worth the wait.
>Tell somebody about it and try to get their help (who?)
The Bloody Baron. He's stoic, he's serious, he understands consequences more than most. He holds a great deal of authority over the spiritual entities of Hogwarts, and being a spirit...well, the living tend to overlook him. And I'm pretty sure he's one of the oldest remaining ghosts at Hogwarts, which affords him a wealth of experience and knowledge.
Nicholas, as well. He's always willing to be helpful, has a friendly relationship with the Baron (and thus is likely to help convince him to get on board with helping us), and has an ASTUTE knowledge of ancient runes.

I don't think I need to go into detail about just how useful the properties of ghosts would be in our investigations.
First instinct is Antonio, since he's Snapeish, but I guess he's only the flying instructor. Is he maybe here for another reason? He doesn't seem the sporty type.

Is Potter absolutely not an option? I'm not sure he's that much of a threat. I'd probably be keen to talk to him.

I think the best option is to talk to McGonagall. Also explain how dangerous you feel this information is. She'll let Potter know but there's now way he could try anything with McGoo also being in the loop.

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Welcome to Lingdom Quest, a cute and comfy slice-of-life quest about exploring the Lingdom, a kingdom of pygmies!

You are Rika, a 15-year-old Ling on a journey with your cousin Kari, friends Bubu and Puki, and fox friend Moochy. You are on your Youthful Journey, a custom among your people where you leave your home to travel across the Lingdom to visit relatives and friends in other villages to help out and learn new skills. The function of the Youthful Journey is also to reconnect you with your wider family.

>What are Lings?
Pygmy humans with large, round ears who live in the Lingdom, a kingdom separated from the rest of the world and under the protection of the Emperor. The Emperor is known as a "Tallie", a human of normal height and normal-shaped and sized ears. Among your people are also "Halfies", individuals with both Ling and Tallie blood who appear like Lings in their childhood but enter a rapid growth spurt in their young adulthood (and reverting back to Ling size in their elder years.)

>Where do Lings come from?
The Lings claim to have been hosted by the Great Turtle where they learned to be good guests. Much of their core values come from their time being the Great Turtle's guests;
>To be neat, tidy, and clean after themselves.
>To eat sparingly so as to not overburn their hosts.
>To reciprocate gifts so as to share Memories.

Memories are something of a religious and spiritual concept for Lings. They represent literal memories that an individual holds but also their relationships and binds them all as one people, not only throughout the land but also through time. Ways Lings share their Memories:

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>No, this is where Go-Getty belongs, where she will encourage the rest of her family to dance with yours. Hug her and return her to Deep Waters and ask your Auntie-Baba to look after her.
>You can't help but feel disappointed that you couldn't hold hands with him as intimately as when he was still learning.
This sounds unhealthy.

>No, this is where Go-Getty belongs, where she will encourage the rest of her family to dance with yours. Hug her and return her to Deep Waters and ask your Auntie-Baba to look after her.
Go-Getty needs to find confidence in herself.
>>No, this is where Go-Getty belongs, where she will encourage the rest of her family to dance with yours. Hug her and return her to Deep Waters and ask your Auntie-Baba to look after her
>No, this is where Go-Getty belongs, where she will encourage the rest of her family to dance with yours. Hug her and return her to Deep Waters and ask your Auntie-Baba to look after her.
Voting closed, writing and drawing.

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It has been 140 years since the Impact. One of it's effects was the shift in the magnetic poles, and while switching places, their movement exposed plenty of the earth's surface to the sun's ionizing radiation, which in turn fried everything requiring a transistor or a double helix string of molecules for that matter. Many people survived but few remained unchanged. Mutations were rampant. The thousands who came out of the bunkers soon took charge of the remains and the global game for power continued, albeit taking a different shape than before.

The bunker technology of producing food was transplanted successfully on a bigger scale, making soil, agriculture and the need for large lands obsolete. Only raw resources mattered now and the newly formed city states were starving for more and more. Neu Tokyo has established itself as the prime city state on the old islands, ruling mercilessly in the region, its primary rival being a huge tropical metropolis named Novyi Formossa, to its south.

Cities have a lot of trash and someone must take care of it, one way or another. The cleaner is:

>Calix Visarionovic, human with augmentations, outsider
Mechanic and computer wiz, he has an artificial parietal lobe making him perform complicated calculations instantaneously. Has an artificial right hand, granting him access to android grip strength and a powerful laser. Bionic eyes make him indifferent to lighting or distance. Has connections in the underworld and knows many dregs of society who snoop on every corner. Has prostitutes on payroll. He is zealous, hedonist, addict, morally bankrupt and doesn't hesitate, which is part of the reasons why he was sent in Neu Tokyo in the first place. Reason to be here is ???

He is part of the Zoroaster Reborn sect. Wants to retire in Novyi Formossa and enjoy the pleasures of the metropolis where his sect has more influence.

>Tomiko Foerster, pureblooded human, native to Neu Tokyo
Coming from a very wealthy religious family, that managed to reserve a place in a bunker more than a century ago, Tomiko is a pure-blooded human with no mechanical augmentations of genetic mutations, making her a very rare breed. Carries a device that masks her as someone with augmentations during scans. She is brave and adventurous, willing to put herself in danger just to go against the sheltered ways of her family. Can mingle with every stratum of society. Knows most spoken dialects of the new world. Having grown up rich, she has knowledge of places and people that are hard to come-by. Her weapon of choice is a rare neu-ceramic pistol that is virtually impossible to detect. She is targeted for her weapon and pristine organs.

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Rolled 17 - 5 (1d20 - 5)

Rolled 6 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

Rolled 12 - 5 (1d20 - 5)

Anon it was minus 5, not plus.
Rolled 4 - 5 (1d20 - 5)


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The year is 21XX. After a third world war, America has changed dramatically. You live in a cyberpunk metropolis called Port Zone 18. Despite the neon lights and incessant cacophony of explicit imagery, some things never change. Google LLC stands strong and you’re one of their many employees. You’re an Intelligence Support: you verify the filter tags attached to various pieces of AI imagery, sound, etc.

On your evening walk home, your eye catches a familiar yet enticing ad. On a tall billboard sits an advertisement for a personal android, specifically the AutoSP. Google LLC has been pushing this model a lot recently. It’s no wonder why; not only is it their newest model, but it’s dirt cheap.

Screw it. You decide to head to your local android store. You haven’t been to this corner of town in a while—it’s just too dangerous—but the prospect of your own droid is… wow.

You reach the android store. It’s a retooled brick and mortar building—one of the few still standing since the third war. The silhouette of a rat dances over your shoes as you gingerly push open the building’s front door.

“Welcome.” An unfamiliar, synthesized voice directs you to the cashier. It’s… it’s an AutoSP! But it’s the cashier?… maybe?

>> “I’d like a personal android.”
>> “Do you… work here?”
>> “What’s your name?”
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>“I’d like a personal android.”
>"You've got some... interesting lanterns around."
>>> “What’s your name?”
"Darude, Sandstorm"
>“What’s your name?”
>“I’d like a personal android.”
>"You've got some... interesting lanterns around."

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Past Threads
>Rentry masterlink, includes character sheets, shop information, inventory, and general information
>Popularity Contest Round 2

A couple months ago, the world changed forever.

Individuals worldwide began manifesting the qualities of various figures- gods, spirits, heroes, beasts, and monsters- from Greek mythos. The system that caused and continues to facilitate this phenomenon is shrouded in mystery, both in how it functions and why it began its activities when it did.

The protagonist of this tale is the incarnation of Atë, a minor goddess in the grand scheme of Greek mythology, who causes and presides over folly and ruin. She, formerly a miserable but ultimately normal office worker, has since accepted her role as the embodiment of her <Myth>. She, along with her partner in crime, the incarnation of Pheme, titan of rumors and gossip, have been working to expand their influence and stack the deck in their favor against not only mortals, but also rival incarnations. In her own eyes, she is no longer human. Her ultimate goal- the elimination of all rival incarnations and, eventually, complete and total world domination.

After striking a deal with the incarnation of Perdix, Atë set off to hunt down the mysterious Isa, a prominent religious leader and military commander in the Arab world. In order to locate him, she infiltrated the ranks of the Penitent, a mysterious multi-religion wide heresy that worships a messianic figure referred to as the Uncrowned King. However, unbeknownst to Atë, the King was not only real, but incomprehensibly, existentially terrifying. More shocking still, the system itself is more likely than not the product of a similar eldritch entity.

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>The crashing waves

You close your eyes, focusing on the sound of the ways. Inseparably, the smell of the sea and the feeling of the warm breeze against your skin come with.

You open your eyes. The world is gray and amporphous, familiar shapes melt and bleed into each other into a scenery that almost looks normal, until you start to look at it.

You walk across the beach, stepping over the ripples on the glassy surface of what should. You look at the sea.

It has color. Bloody crimson.

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obvious bait answer

some theory,
either "we" are Ate and the waves are our former self crashing in,
or "we" are the person, with the waves crashing in being all that which the system has attached upon our soul (Ate/her powers)

we need to become one, become better at absorbing what the system feeds us.

>The water
an endless ocean that comes from /somewhere/
>The water
Time to dive in
>The girl?
Someone's gotta vote for it

Ready for total disassociation of self

You walk into the water, fluid clinging to your body, weighing you down as you trudge into the screaming sea. Red stains your legs as you move, fighting against the currents as you force your feet forward.

The sand below here feels like sand. Your feet begin to sink into it as you move.

You stop- not because you want to, but because something is holding you back: a single purple thread is wrapped around your waist, keeping you from moving any further

>Sever the thread
>Lie down in the water
>Stand still
>Turn back

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>“Do you renounce Satan Russel Powell?”

>“You’ll do great things Russel Powell”

>“get to work Powell”
>“You don’t wanna do this copper…”
>”Welcome to Vegas, Pig!”

Born to the descendants of escaped Lousiana slaves. You are Russel Powell, rookie cop, recently embraced. And thrusted into the world of darkness against your will. How long will you last the nights of Vegas? How far shall you go into the treacherous pits of your sect and clan?

Choose what kind of Copotype you wish you be at the start
>Cowboy Cop: A Physical presence, a force of Nature, you are the first one in, and the last one out, you flunked high school and it shows
>Human can-opener: A Social chameleon, a nice joke, a soft smile, a suave retort, you make the criminals spill the beans all by themselves. You panic when bullets start flying
>Mind wide open: Exceedingly intellectual, esoteric and precise, you carry an encyclopedia all to yourself. Citizens hate your presence instinctually

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>Ally: Coroner friend
>Contacts: Local bookie, Unaffiliated hitman
>Streets: He did a few favors for some people, misplaced evidence here and there.
>Underworld: Negotiated and prevented a gangwar from erupting as a dirty cop intermediary
>Who: Someone who wanted justice but kept prioritizing other things until he was in too deep
moderate power ally
>Carl, an old Ghoul or bloodslave who serves another Master
>to whom your own Sire is a friendly inferior.
>He is almost sixty now, even with the preservative effects of his addiction.
>He has never impressed enough to be Embraced
>but he has no envy for you, only vicarious hope.
>He knows the current web of alliances, which strands weakening, where new ones wait to form
>He has your basic essentials and access to a Sanctuary
>wide knowledge of Vampiric powers, though not deep
>and theoretical knowledge on how to use some of them, though practically he can't use any himself.
>More than these he might not possess
>but likely he knows who might

contact 1

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sorry anon, this shit looks dead.

How was influenced gained
>He started small and violent, like most
>showing off to the bigger boys that he can shoot and kill just like them.
>Emptied a clip into a rival ganger in a rumble at age 10.
>That nigg bled out, and Russel bled in.
>From there, the normal course of things
>Russel grew big, good bones, made a little, fucked a lot
>and offed, directly and indirectly, a hundred other lowlifes like himself.
>Then he found out where the money really at:
>with the Cops.
>They got 3rd gen milshit for free, kept everything they confiscated, and had first dibs on in the towpark auctions.

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aww, I dint see

oh well.


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max martingale works at the dmv. there's a dog on the way to work that some crazy infects with rabies like they themselves infected themselves with rabies and then like drew their blood and injected the dog with an epipen and it bites max and he's out of commission for like a month but he survives and goes back to work but the tone has somehow shifted. he's spent the month walking around outside, so maybe he has a tan or his jacket smells. it was sure a weird month. he was followed more than once. second week he could barely leave the house and most days couldn't get up to get water until he really needed it. he could actually hear the neighbors gossiping about him and it took real effort not to make some kind of noise at them. he couldn't stand looking in the mirror. he felt so cooped up afterwards that he spent an entire week after that outdoors which probably helped the wound heal faster and he was back to work the monday after. the world felt bracingly threatening, like the pigeons are out to get him.

>It's Friday, you have to go to work on Monday. What do you get up to?
>>write in
>>write a poem or something
>>take a walk to the state line
>>go to the zoo
>>get some food, you didn't eat yesterday, though you're not hungry.
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When you notice the man from earlier who was walking the dog and he's walking towards you and gesturing towards the ground between you. It seems he left a debit card on the floor.
''That yours?'' ''Yep.'' The orangutan watches. ''Can you walk dogs in here?'' ''Yep.'' He's away.

You look at the bandages on your hand. ''No blood.'' The orangutan waves at you.
You might wanna slow down a bit, OP--/qst/ moves a little slowly and you gotta give people time to actually vote a bit or you'll just be writing a novel.

>Write-In: A walking alligator
>>>get some food, you didn't eat yesterday, though you're not hungry.
Lets buy a turkey leg while we are at the zoo
>write in

>a petting farm and shallow aquarium!!!

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PRELUDE Father took us to the foreign land,
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An unused location I had prepared, the Wheel Of Fortune, this location is based on Pacific Park the Ferris Wheel in Santa Monica, I deliberately chose it because it is sort of like that Lost Boys beach amusement park vampire film hehe, Euphoria the tv series had a cool fairground episode, the Santa Monica night beach was in the Vampire Masquerade Bloodlines videogame, but also because the Ferris Wheel echoes the one everyone remembers from post apocalyptic Pripyat exclusion zone either Stalker or Call Of Duty videogame levels hehe. I think in my setting the ferris wheel is fairly normal, just deserted at night, I didn't have the narrative outline fully prepared but it probably involved the Cartel, Pedro and Donnie and various gang wars. I had day and night versions of this map, there was also some secret subterranean sewer entrance that would take you to some passages into the Elbridge Colony Arts Residency Beach House (in case you didn't get an invitation, which luckily the anon players did manage to negotiate). The Finlay questline had some element of retrieving his lost phone from the Beach House, but I hadn't fully developed or elaborated the entire game interaction sequence.

Incidentally, the Elbridge Colony does sort of exist in real life, I based it on the Macdowell Colony https://www.macdowell.org/ I met an artist who went there hehe. I think they have dropped the Colony name nowadays from the arts fellowship, which is why you must always refer and remind them of it, and continue to use the original historical name. I changed it to Elbridge because it sounds a bit like Cambridge lol, but also, this guy


Some other hidden references: I discovered that you can apparently lookup prisoner numbers in the United States for federal inmates.


So you can try this guy: >>6039761
hehe, or read this article
2024 Mar 21
>Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell would be gone in the first 100 days of a second Donald Trump term that would also include mass deportations of undocumented immigrants and more tariffs on Chinese goods, former White House economic adviser Peter Navarro told Semafor from the federal prison where he is serving a four-month sentence for refusing to cooperate with a congressional probe into the Jan. 6 riots at the Capitol

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I was a bit thrown by the game choice and write-in suggestion of this anon on Shaft (1971)
>>6056935 lol and Richard Roundtree, but as a mark of my intense research roleplaying dedication I watched and absorbed the entirety of that film within the span of a few hours, the film made me slightly more racist against Italian people (I am very sorry, I also hate mafia films like the Godfather, insert Family Guy meme of how the film insists upon itself) but it is interesting, blaxploitation genre probably is not the type of cinema I would usually seek out hehe. Something I liked about that Shaft film is how he uses a BLACK revolver when doing police stuff, but then pulls out an unmarked WHITE / pearl handed revolver when he rescues the girl on behalf of the black drug dealer / gang boss, oohhh the symbolism. There is also that weird bit where they make the Black Panther rebellious revolutionary man? sleep in a little pink girl's bed?? and the end sequence with the firehose / improvised molotov cocktail is truly bizarre (it goes right down to like the last 2 minutes... you are desperately thinking... what are they doing with the firehose?? The film ends in like 60 seconds??? lol) I was quite impressed by how they frankly addressed racial issues in the film (eg the black people accuse Shaft of being a traitor, sellout to the police; he counters that the drug lord is just turning the black community into addicts, dope fiends) etc it felt quite raw and believable for the era

I discovered during the course of this game that impersonating latino or black people is really difficult and quite tiring lol, but arguably you cannot run an urban gothic / Vampire Masquerade World Of Darkness type setting without convincing portrayals of street culture or hiphop type influences. In fact, the look of 90s type hiphop videos, or that film like Juice (1992) I cited, is very reminiscent of the "Vampire Masquerade" world of darkness look, hence why I also included that hed(PE) music video (it isn't hiphop, but the singer is from California and sort of raps) the fashion in that video could be repurposed into various Vampire Masquerade gangs, street factions etc. I don't have much experience with rap or hiphop, I have only been to San Francisco not LA, so I just look up song lyrics lol adapt them and draw upon my videogame knowledge of playing the black guy from GTA V lol
Anyway, I am happy to stay in the thread for a while, absorb any feedback or criticism, answer any questions or share some of the other unused images / locations assets I had prepared for this game setting.

This time round, I used a lot of images from


The site is mostly free (maybe 1 in 10-20 images is paid) it is no signup, no login, and has already probably been heavily datamined by generative AI lol eg for LAION or other aesthetic datasets. I like images which are silhouettes or convey emotions and ambiguous abstract gestures or evocative feeling landscapes. I am trying to move away a bit from artstation, which has become saturated with AI art, but also, art which isn't AI there still adopts the AI gloss / unreal engine look aesthetic, the art has a lot of visual detail but the composition is poor or generic and has no feeling or mood, or embodiment of physical presence and possibility. Hence I am using unsplash, trying to source more images from actual real world places, actual photography. The good photos don't convey just a place or thing but the feeling too, they are often shot from unusual vantage or perspective (as an example, see this version of the Hollywood sign >>6059003 )

I also wonder if the music this time round suited the various scenarios, music can be quite personal lol everyone likes different things, but I tried to create some non-diegetic accompaniment, just as if the soundtrack was playing in a TV series or videogame cutscene. All my knowledge of contemporary music comes from films or videogames lol, so I don't know if the music I linked was already too cliched or familiar for this audience.

Anyway, thanks again to everyone who played and participated, I really enjoyed rising to the challenge of responding to all of your choices, write-ins and ideas!
I really really enjoyed this quest and I'm glad that I got to participate. Everything was very well executed, but to me the characters really stood out. You did a great job crafting realistic characters that closely resemble "people you would meet" (tm) in LA. That takes really skill and was definitely appreciated.

Sorry you didn't get to use the music system. It seemed like an interesting dynamic, but I'm not a music guy (barely know any songs and almost no lyrics) so I personally felt incapable of participating. But I like the gameplay potentially it sets up and, if you want, it would be nice to keep in future quests in case you do get more lyrically inclined players. Its nonuse in this one definitely is not for lack of interest, but lack of musical talent on the side of the playerbase.

Also, I'm the Shaft anon. I'm glad you were interested by the film. I personally love Blaxploitation as a genre so I'm a bit biased, but if you liked the social themes and rawness of Shaft, I would also recommend Shaft 3: Shaft in Africa, which is about Shaft traveling to Ethiopia to shut down a human trafficking operation across the Mediterranean and talks a lot of illegal immigration and worker exploitation.
Thank you very much for the kind feedback, and also your very interesting write-ins!

I have to admit, initially when I saw some of your ideas I panicked lol because I had no point of reference or preparation for many of them,, however, I think in the end they did take the story to interesting places!

My original idea with the songs developed from the dnd type spells "I cast MAGIC, TELL ME DM ALL THE INFORMATION REVEAL ALL THE GAME SECRETS NOW IS NPC LYING??" lol those spells, I had an idea that instead of magic telepathic omniscience, you would be able to infer something about the npcs, their disposition or trustworthiness from seeing their playlists. I remembered in Metal Gear Solid IV (the old man moustache Snake one) in the endgame you could unlock some emotion voodoo dolls, from Screaming / psycho mantis, there was a sorrow one a laughing one, I never actually went back and replayed the game after getting them, but it gave me an idea that a cool advanced version of the psychic music playlist would let you inject / hijack npc emotions by uploading your own songs etc. eg if you could demoralise them or turn them hyper aggressive against others etc.

As you mentioned, anons may not actually have such an extensive music collection.

Maybe what I should have done instead: just offer a preset menu selection of songs, let players choose one as an "emotional spell" to manipulate an NPC mood.

Near the end of this game, I was running out of music myself lol, I couldn't find enough appropriate music for some of the key scenes or other characters, it does take a lot of effort recalling films / tv / games. I was specifically trying to use mostly California type music (think anons recommended me some interesting music in the qtg, which I appreciated, but I was specifically trying to get the California beach goth type feel). Hence I was scouring my memory of Euphoria, The Idol, 90210 and The OC type tv series

Watching Shaft (1971) it resonated a lot with Wesley Snipes Blade (1998) which for me is one of the best vampire films ever (Blade is a deeply political film, compared to say Kate Beckinsdale Underworld or Tom Cruise Interview With The Vampire etc) Another intriguing "black goth" character, though somewhat underused, is the villain Judah Earl from the 2nd film, Crow City Of Angels (1996) this film had incredible atmosphere, fashion (Iggy Pop as a goth!) visuals. In my alt-reimagining of vampires, I tried deliberately to avoid the GOTHIC MIST VOODOO look, it nonetheless remains a very inspiring influence. The New York / Gotham skyscraper / ghetto thing is probably better suited for Vampire Masquerade world of darkness, I deliberately tried to move it to palm trees, sunny boulevards and beaches etc. Similarly the Arts Residency was a variant on the familiar Silent Hill / Evil Within creepy asylum, I tried to emphasise the modern corporate wellness / luxury rehab aesthetic instead for an alternative perspective

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Previous Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%202nd%20Primarch%20Quest

Still dressed in her wedding gown, as you and her lay on the dewy grass, you meet your bride's gaze gently and look into the emerald sea of her eyes, seeing the somber golden glow of your own eyes catching the light of the setting sun reflected into them, golden fire and Emerald water mingled together like when the sun descends the horizon at the sea. The warmth of her touch radiates out and reaches deep into your chest as she lays practically on top of you, arms wrapped tightly around your midsection and her own body pressed against your own. The wind lifts the loosened flaps of your robe and plays through her hair as her request, her proposition settles into your mind and stirs a desire almost alien to your senses, an uncomfortable heat welling up from within your heart, fanned by emotion rather than instinct that were excised from you and your brothers at your creation. The whirlwind of passion, sweeping up the sparks of chaste love and stoking it to become a different beast entirely, altering its form and sensation but not its source.

And as the chilly touch of her fingers sends involuntary shivers down your sun warmed skin, your mind drifts, hazy already with the spirit known as love true and strong and further fogged by the peerless beauty and the tempting offer she has made, the coy smirk on her lips, the almost challenging look in her eyes. But it does not drift where the thoughts of other mens would be pulled and lured if they were in the same situation, rather, you day dream not of anything indecent or lewd, but rather towards a future that probably will never come to pass. Of a pack of merry minded children, with eyes of entwined emerald, gold and silver, taller than most, fast growing as you were, but unburdened by the grand responsibility and towering expectation of both of their parents. The man engineered to be a warlord, who'd prefer to spend his days wandering the fog dampened forests or tending flooded paddies of rice rather than shedding blood and committing war on a galactic scale, and the soul of a colony ship who had survived not only her passengers and crew but all of her civilization save a few of her family, but both who carried out their duties without complaint out of a shared love for humanity. A love rivaled only by the one they share, the love from which these imaginary children sprouted.

Oh how vividly you can see them, racing through the mists and clambering up the hills of the valleys and rocks that dot them, swimming through the stream, laughing as they play with grown tiger kin who have escaped the monstrosity and crimes of their own parents and Space Marines taken from the battlefield and allowed to pursue arts besides those of the martial and killing variety.

A perfect world. That can only be an illusion. For perfection cannot exist.
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Its good to train our sons in the ways of political sabotage
Brother Noahlucas sat in the smoldering ruins of a laboratory that a mere hour ago was the den of vice and he dared even say; Sin. He counted himself fortunate to b among those chosen to purge the alchemists and mystics whom sought to poison his genesires home, whom sought to exploit the true peace his Father had purchased with the blood of heroes he'd wished to have known.

The labs was a smoldering wreak now, a vast hall of shattered glass, plant cinders and bones...even these Celestial orphans had burnt once slain but only after they'd been taught the lesson of his Primarch, only after the message had been mad clear to all the underworld watching from shadows. It was why he'd volanteered to remain behind to ensure the work was done and to mop up any scavengers whom came by. As he stood in the dark armour power systems cycled low he meditated just is Primarch had taught, he looked inward and felt the stillness of mind considering his mission, considering, ruminating...the epiphany came among the dying embers carried upon the wind.

“A peace gained by gentle hand is soft and can well be crushed by the vile but can slowly be reshaped once again, a peace forged by the gauntlet of terror is strong and unyielding but is cruel and brittle. Peace requires both hands; One much teach virtue to nurture hope and a gentle peace while those whom seek to break it must face terror's grip. Balance? No...Contrast for Balace without perspective is worthless.... one must know both to see the value of each.”

He smiled to himself and looked forward to recording this in his journal but first...it seemed he had unwelcome company, while the Celestial Orphans may have burnt these ones? These ones would hang.
>Use this as an opportunity to show your sons how you sowed paranoia and distrust to bring low the Yan nobility and prepare the grounds for the rebellion that dethroned them. The triad shall destroy the triad.
We could effortlessly crush as triad with brute force, but this is our cradle, we have much support available to us here.
The time will come when we will need to eliminate crooks in a world where we have no support yet. It is good for our sons to practice here.
>Contact the Yan family, and have them publicly denounce the triad and as thanks, memorialize the old fox Yan Zihao with a poem
>Use this as an opportunity to show your sons how you sowed paranoia and distrust to bring low the Yan nobility and prepare the grounds for the rebellion that dethroned them. The triad shall destroy the triad.
>Contact the Yan family, and have them publicly denounce the triad and as thanks, memorialize the old fox Yan Zihao with a poem
>Use this as an opportunity to show your sons how you sowed paranoia and distrust to bring low the Yan nobility and prepare the grounds for the rebellion that dethroned them. The triad shall destroy the triad.

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Welcome into the Bronze-Clay age of a far away unnamed star. After evolving in The Crack, the species known as Under Hunter reached Sapience and organized in tribes.
7 remains :

The fire-mastering Blanks and WindPsykers of GrassGreen
The Assassin, Tool-wielding, Stone Huts lawmakers of Ghostclaw
The StrongHunters Kraken-riders feodal lords of BurningGrass
The Tzeench-touch expansionists, of Jupiter
The Archers, Merchants, Slavers and Warptrailers of BadBack
The Lunar Dahu and Stove Grove farmers of Whitemane
The elusive trapmaker, raven-priests Cerulean which integrated the Singers of Icey Ones, not without racial frictions.

Interrested in joining? Claim a trip and a name as a Lurker - impacting the world with random events.

Last thread : https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5997970/
Pastebin : https://pastebin.com/LLBm1mjj

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At least some are rolling good to fantastic
Rolled 4, 8, 5, 27, 89, 91 = 224 (6d100)

Rollling for Chaos
At least chaos also rolled like shit most of the time
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BurningGrass, you there?
Working on the update. Your roll is good enough/Their roll suck hard enough for you to overtake any hex adjoining your conquered one in the far North. Please indicate which one you'll prefer.

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You swallowed hard and nodded, your gaze skittering towards the monstrous figures closing in. The Demon King’s guard dogs were embellished with twisted marble horns, sharply tapered ears, and snouts etched with wrinkles, and weathered crevices filled with white moss.

Count Whiskers hissed in fear, the gargoyle silhouettes appearing in and then engulfing whole his wide cerulean eyes. You rocked in Miranna’s one-hand-grip, watching as she spread her wings wide and swooped towards granite beasts. Her scorching nails tore through the bewitched stone, sinking within and pushing the scarlet light out of every of its cracks. Her claws carved through the stone chest and neck, scooping out and hurling chunks of vermilion rubble into the air as if casting aside molten embers, as well as the beast itself. With a wild cackle, she plunged downwards, creating distance between herself and the two stone monsters.

You hesitantly shifted one hand from Whisker’s fur to slowly grip Miranna just above her waist. She snapped her head, but before you could retract your hand, she grasped it, pressed on it, urging you to hold tighter. The clouds melted away, bursting and vanishing into a shimmering silver-gilt mist as you soared and broke through them.

“You might need to hold on tighter,” Miranna said, fleeting smirk crossing her face as another gargoyle appeared behind her.

“You said their only interest are humans? They we have to make them think I’m not one!”

“That -would- make things easier, but how are you going to do that?”

“You don’t know?”

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> Apologise, it seems like you made the wrong turn, you were searching for the Grub Hug.


You cast your downwards to his axe, noting each meticulously honed scallop.

With a swallow, you said, “I wasn’t sent here by anyone, jailkeeper. I’m innocent of wrongdoings.”

“Warden Sarem,” he said, his breath drawing heavily. “And no one enters these prisons … by mere accident.”

“I assure you, warden Sarem, I assumed this was where the Grub Hag would be at.”

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“Why is that?” you asked, beginning to make your way to ascend the uneven steps out of the foul-smelling dungeon.

“The Demon King is quite forgiving … of his servants’ failures. We seldom get one … who I was -asked- to kill.”

“And the humans?”

“The humans?” —Sarem inhaled within a laughter— “Never. No human ever entered … the Banefroth Citadel. No human has ever been imprisoned … in the Banefroth prisons. Do not speak of humans … before the Demon King, newcomer.”

Was the Demon King’s hatred for the humans that profound? You couldn’t say that you had experienced any of it personally—

Something fell from your leggings, clattering off the stone steps and rolling downwards before Sarem snatched it up.

It was the runic stone you happened to take with you from Miranna’s room—by accident—one that sang the magical music.

He recognised it too, lifting it close to his eye and lowering his tone. “This is Miranna’s,” he said, his eyes flickering crimson. “Why … do you … have it … demon?” His breathing grew tense but controlled.

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>Claim that you found it on the ground and chose to pick it up on a whim.
"Who is Miranna? Are you two... together?"

+1. She's a birdbrain who just handed thes eto us willy-nilly. She carries them around for battle music. It's all very plausible, methinks.
I suspect he's her brother, rather than a lover, but that just makes it funnier.

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