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This board is for author-driven collaborative storytelling (i.e., "Quests"). In a quest there is a single author who controls the plot of the story and who drives the creative process. They can choose to take suggestions from other posters, or not, at their sole discretion. Quests can be text-based, image-based, or a combination of the two. Drawfaggotry is strongly encouraged!

To facilitate the author-driven nature of quests, /qst/ differs significantly from other boards in that the OP of a thread is considered the quest's author, and has some basic text formatting abilities: [b], [i], and color tags [red], [green], and [blue]. Therefore, only those people willing to put in the effort to be a quest author should post threads. If you do not intend to run a collaborative story, do not post a thread here! This includes meta-threads.

Dice rolling follows /tg/'s format (e.g., "dice+2d6" without the quotes in the options field rolls 2d6).
Current board settings:

Anyone can post images.
Anyone can use painter.
Anyone can use dice & spoilers.
Only OP can use text formatting.
3000 character limit.
750 bump limit.
Decreased post timer to match /tg/ (30 seconds for text, 60 seconds for an image reply).
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>old charsheet will update soon.

You are astartes.you are a warrior of terra and mankind and this is your tale.

Last thread you boarded a foul dark mechanicus station and begin to reveal the horrors within.
from great swarms of the great devourer to the untiring might of the machine you have faced it with valour.
For you are a black templar.
And even one of the wayward sons of sigismund has the blood of dorn beating in their veins.
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Rolled 23, 84, 82, 22 = 211 (4d100)

Rolled 37, 31, 82, 79 = 229 (4d100)


your next salvo is furious as well as you spit red hot death onto the foe shearing metal and fusing flesh to the floor. unfortunately your salvo wanes over time as your barrel heats under the barrage of automatic boltfire forcing you to pull back and let your brothers take the lead as amadiel fires his launcher over the heads of the ranger barrage adding a crucial punch to their blows as the skitarri of mars wane their attacks themselves as targeting cogitators stain under the stress and the adept prioritizes to get.firing patterns reloaded rather than ordering a continuous barrage.

but your efforts are greatly supplemented by the continued push of the bloodlust blades of mars as skitarri ruststalkers live up to their name transversing all terrain from metal to corpses in the charge flanking in holes in the line and reaping a deadly break in the lines as dozens die before their might.

the breaks are exploited to great effect by the templars as blade and bolter is used in the fury to divine effect with dozens falling before the might of the astartes with cultists falling alongside stronger skitarri and dark adepts equally in the fray as terminators make dozens crushed beneath their boots and noble initiates prove the blade skill of the heirs of sigismund in the battle.

but while the imperial forces stand and fight with pride chaos has many more chaff to throw into the fray as from the shadows great gene beasts march as chaos spawns both flesh and mechanically augmented come to the fore assisted by a horde of skitarri and servitors ready to face the stalwart of mankind.

>roll 4d100.
Rolled 29, 99, 79, 51 = 258 (4d100)

Rolled 21, 9, 60, 63 = 153 (4d100)


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You pick up the long spear, feeling the sharp edge of its blade, and you can see that it has been killing long before you could walk. You put on one of the particularly daunting war-masks and walk to where the large man instructed you. Then the great doors in front of you swung open to reveal a large sandpit, with walls and spikes on all sides. At the far corner, you could see a beast of a man wielding a sledgehammer with both hands.
There were seats and chairs on the sides of the pit, where a scant few people watched the fight. After a man walked around the seats, gathering tips from the audience a commentator began speaking, "good people of the wastes, welcome to the blood pit! Now that all tips and payments have been given to my assistant, I will introduce you to the contestants: out of the vile sands, and waterless expanse, comes a new warrior, and his name is..." All the people look at you, choose one
>Give birth name (You give the name)
>Give warrior title (You give the title)
>Let the commentator provide you a name
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>>Life: good first impressions with the sponsor is a good idea
Crowd will not pay for our food, but if we please sponsor then it will be his JOB
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You give a feral smile underneath your mask as you slowly draw a skin deep cut across the man's neck, making Aedak tear up from the threat of death. You then punched him so hard in the face that he spat out a few teeth before falling unconscious. You spit on his face and turn to the audience as the victor. You let the crowd finish cheering your name, and you leave, satisfied that the duel was a success.
+Neclace of teeth added+

After another day of training, the rest at the end is sweet and deserved. You are woken up to a delicious meal of lentil and lamb soup, with a side of buckwheat bread. Before you can start training, you saw the sponsor standing next to the commentator on the far side of the barracks. The sponsor introduced himself as 'Varkus Lisonas', the owner of some of the best Blood-pit fighters.
"I see promise in you boy, and you beating my second best gladiator in a fair duel certainly showed more than just physical prowess. The fact that you took advantage of the weather and climate itself is impressive, considering most wasters just charge at the enemy and get their head bashed in." Varkus then held out his hand and said:

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>Taught to read so that you can educate yourself.
Wisest of men
>>Taught to read so that you can educate yourself.
>Taught to read so that you can educate yourself.
>A well made pre-war blade.

You are Yumigawa Rushorou, magically augmented human, Grail War contestant, and first-time killer.
Since awakening in a burning city almost a week ago, you've done surprisingly well for yourself. You saved two of your classmates, entered into a partnership with an enchantress from the Age of Gods, forged a secondary alliance with one of your opponents in the death game you're stuck in, and you've even managed to successfully take out the first of the seven competitors. You've also died repeatedly, gotten into repeated misunderstandings with the women in your life, and been shot in the knee, but the less said about your failings the better.
It's the morning of the sixth day, and you're discussing plans over breakfast with Caster.

Previous thread:

Suptg Archive:

Status Information:
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Now the question is, what does that say about Kikuko's personality?
Maybe that she is unhappy. After all in most western movies its usually a single mother/female land owner who is trapped in some situation they cant get out off until the hero comes through town.
But if it is specifically the man with no name, and not the ideal western protagonist, that's might be harder tobsay.
Does it say anything? As it stands, we have little reason to believe that summoning in this war was carried out via compatibility. While it would make sense based on what we know of the franchise, it doesn't add up based on what we've seen so far. We had a chance of summoning any of 5 servants, and Circe's personality isn't exactly similar to Rushorou's. There are some other blatant personality mishmashes, too - Rider's master is relaxed as they come, and Berserker's master has no motivation for anything.
It could be that the personalities are complementary.
>Yumigawa is described as acting "Like a Greek hero" and Circe is, well... Circe
>Rider's Master is relaxed and calm while Rider himself is energetic and excited
>Kikuko is naive and sociable while Clint is jaded and ornery
It could also be that some of them used Catalysts.
Adding to the complementary-personalities angle, Berserker would have a strong and focused motive if she's Hitler-chan which would complement her Master's lack of any motivation

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Congratulations, a large group of sailors, merchants, fighters, thieves, whores, and beggars, including all of you, have pitched in together to seek greatness. Through various loan negotiations, you have purchased a recently repossessed treasure ship. It is empty of cargo save enough rations for the crew for several months. All decisions are made not by a captain but by a vote of all crew.

You quickly have three offers for commission, first to 2 votes decides:

A.Transport various gifts, including three titan Elephants to a neighboring kingdom to the south, Alwall, ordered by the current city, Helleni. This comes at orders of the Duke.
Intel (lvl 1) This neighboring kingdom has been on poor terms with the current Duke. Sending gifts is unexpected.

B. Carry ammunition, supplies, and 300 cavalry troops to the front lines to the north at the behest of the military general.
Intel (lvl 1) This unit was only recently reformed after previously being disbanded as punishment for unknown charges.

C. Transport 1,000 political dissidents to exile on a nearby island at the request of the secret police.
Intel (lvl 1) The dissidents believe this to be a pleasure cruise.

Also, while coordinating the contract, you have time in dock to improve one aspect of the ship. All is currently lvl 1. First to 2 votes gets it.

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A second Capra, runs from behind Harrahoch, and pounces directly on the mouth of the tree, straddling his gaping maw. This Capra wields a hatchet and begins furiously chopping at the creatures eyes. It screams strangely as its tongue, black, thick and tarry wraps around the Capra’s waist and attempts to devour her. Harrahoch stops playing and begins running towards the tree.

Unaided by the bard, the elephant stumbles at first, then regains ground. Bark pops away from the tree, revealing desiccated, wrinkled and smoking wood within. The tree is clearly shrinking. With a great heave and crack, one of the tusks breaks, leaving slivers of ivory as the elephant cries in pain. It begins to climb up the tree, pressing all of its colossal weight against it. The tendrils pop, one at a time, lashing quick and whipping many as they retreat into the tree slits.

The face of the tree is mutilated and at an angle now that the roots below are losing hold. The Capra, hacking at the tongue and struggling, reaches a hand into the jagged face hole and rips out a pulsing red bead. Reaching behind her, she bowls the bead over to under the elephant. The Bayard understands quickly and brings its full weight down to the deck, crushing the bead.

A blast of air rushes through the ship, bringing many to their knees. A ringing deafness spreads as the tree screams one last time then powders to dust, leaving only the core of the tree, which appears to be pure gold.

Many collapse in exhaustion and sobs. Harrahoch embraces and kisses the other Capra, with the third Capra standing behind, clearly a child. The elephant is quickly surrounded by crew, tending to its broken tusk. The air blasts put out all the fires above deck, luckily.
The hull seems mostly intact but large sections of the upper and lower decks are gone. Some repairs can be done on the trip home, but some time in dock will definitely be required.

The navigators, attempting to work during all the noise managed to get a functional map room together and have found a book denoting points of interest, allowing us to find adventure without returning to dock every time.
In the distance, just as the dawn is breaking, a glistening whale breaches and crashes in front of the sun, gems sending rays of starlight in a sacrament against the horizon. its trill is a loud deep thrum, its secrets, still its own.
Searching the room of the trapper, who find a map detailing the locations of hundreds of magical beasts, you add this to the map room. You also find the gold, presumably you would have been paid with for hunting the whale.
There is also a bag, emanating dark magic, it is covered in runes
1. Toss is over the side
2. Open it
3. Don’t open it, but try to sell it in port
The three goatmen approach the party that afternoon after all have rested. Harvin (now Harrahoch) explains in the chaos of being pushed out of this ship, he managed to come back in another room and free his wife and daughter, though he had no time to save the rest. The survivor’s guilt will haunt him his whole life, hearing his friends begging to be freed, know to a soul they are dead.
He forgives you for your involvement in the massacre, unwitting as you were. He says he cannot go to the human city you head, as he doesn’t wish to raise his daughter into the life of hiding he had. He asks to be dropped off at a nearby island, uninhabited, which was the original goal of their ship. He stares expressionless, his squares pupils free of that mental fire he can summon. He uses no magic to sway you.
A. Take him and his family to the island.
B. Invite him and his family to stay aboard the vessel as crew.
Second is the matter of the golden tree. A close inspection reveals it is not dead, yet no longer contains any blight of the necromancer ent. Through some combination of the magic of the goat bard and the elephant, they have created a living tree of pure gold. It is much smaller than the ent was but has straightened itself and appears to be healthy and growing. Small golden leaves reaching up to the shattered top deck. The elephant has a fondness for the tree and lays beside it as it recovers.
X. Salvage the tree for gold to sell in port, we deserve more recompense for this hardship.
Y. Allow it to grow
Z. Keep it, allow it grow and move the Bayard enclosure to it.

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a Map found in the map room, we are in the inner sea
B but if he refuses, A.
Y but keep it far away away from Bayard just in case it fucks with him

Great quest btw, most exciting one I’ve seen in a while
>4. Ask goatman how to deal with a bag thingy? Preferably destroyed or neutralized and sold
>B. Invite him and his family to stay aboard the vessel as crew.
>Z. Keep it, allow it grow and move the Bayard enclosure to it.

Betraying him definitely was the right choice.

>Quietly in the corner, a studious group unanimously agrees learning the navigation charts would be the best path forward. Everyone ignores this pronouncement as the melee progresses.
I love it.

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Now that Sir Paragon has formed a team of knights, and has gained horses for travel: The real journey begins.
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Friar François De Fréjus: Pious, gregarious and never too old to have a good kek.

Class: Troll
Speciality: Wits, Bamboozlement, Making friends

"Prays" every now and then through his wine bottle. Is a cynical bastard that enjoys laughing secretly at nobles, the church, or basically anyone that deserves it because God Told Him Directly. Suspected to pawn off silverware sleight-of-handed from noble banquets despite convincing the nobleman to donate to the orphanages. Would drink with the devil for a kek and then bamboozle him for a greater kek. So far took his memedeath as the greatest, kekkiest irony God gifted him.
Friar François De Fréjus could become a companion later maybe

The great old meme agrees to aid you, only through the recently deceased meme plane though. He picked the knights up in his huge hands and stepped out of his primordial meme juices, showing his humangous size in the process. It did not take too long to reach the first of the recently deceased memes, most of them unfunny or cringe. The great old meme stopped at a small gathering of dead memes that beckoned him to stop. Among them were Ugandan knuckles, woah crash bandicoot, dame-tu-cosita, orange shirt kid and somebody toucha my spaghet. These now unconditionally dead memes were asking the knights for help
>Pass them by
>Listen to their plea
>Gross, get the great old meme to squash them
>Listen to their plea
De Fréjus keks patiently, enjoying himself with cheese and wine while you do your job.
>>Listen to their plea

Your name is Shu, and you find it ironic that it took the end of the world to make you a better person. Perhaps it took nothing less than your oldest friend finally cracking under the pressure you put on her and taking a lava lamp to your skull, just as your planet was swallowed by a devourer from beyond the stars.

It's been over two weeks since you woke to find yourself in a world-wide battle royale, Earth's face stripped bare and replaced by a landscape of flesh and bone, where Daughters like yourself fight and devour each other to reach a destination known only as the Cord. In your time fighting through hell, you've both made and lost friends, conquered enemies and befriended just as many, and slowly but surely, you've been making your way west to the Cord and accumulating allies along the way.

Now, in the aftermath of the destruction of Dorian's ancestral home, the abominable engine beneath his estate, and the woman that would have used it to become a god, you rest at the edge of the Forest of Though and consider your next move among friends new and old...

Previous Thread: >>3342376
Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Body%20Horror%20Quest
Character Abilities: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/15ctgm_liaNO0e0B6zAcIUrmfDN0tWiXds3L4FvogI2M/edit#gid=0
Relic Listing: https://pastebin.com/8qNSREwW
Twitter: https://twitter.com/bodyhorrorquest?lang=en
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>we walk in on him boasting to the entire sparring room about how he single-handedly destroyed the spaghetti engine
Ill support this, then we can go to the forge. Gah, damn all these interesting characters and intriguing plot points getting in the way of my crafting mechanics!
Because "he" has a vagina. You might've missed that one little piece of information.
how do we know? he might be amorphous enough by now that he could make an 8 inch lead paint d*ck
Sure, lets see that happen. I'll be waiting for him to make a poisonous dick, then stick it into one of the monks.

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This will be a capeshit quest in a world that has no known capeshit going on.


The sun burning down causes flimmers of air dancing about the road as if you were looking through water. A phenomena you’re quite familiar with, but nonetheless it still fascinates you. Maybe it wouldn’t if your spirits weren’t already high. You hadn’t had to skip out on a bun for quite a while now so you had an unusually high amount of energy. Before you saved the money your father gave you to buy bread by skipping out on your share.

You have a small plastic bag hanging down from each of your scrawny arms. One was filled with the aforementioned bread, the other one held a book on language.
So far you had barely ever had a chance to hear the language spoken out loud, your dad wouldn't approve. This book, however, comes with two audio CDs you could listen to on your discman. You could read phonetics and know how the vowels ought to sound, but hearing it spoken in a pace you could control will be really advantageous.
Language is your only way of escape. The fantasy of escaping to a place further away than anyone could possibly imagine. A place where nobody knows you, where you could start again.

You snap out of your imagination when you pass the road sign telling passing cars where the lovely community you call your home branches off. It was anyones guess how well kept the trailer park was when looking at the overgrown sign and the barely visible junction.

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>No, that's a sin of omission. If you sit idly by and allow pain to happen it's also your fault. With great power comes great responsibility.
>maybe you could market it
Donations maybe to keep us afloat

>Is this the Panacea conundrum?
I'm slightly mad that you'd call it that, but yeah, basically.
>slightly mad

I know right? If anything we're Scapegoat.
Even though you don’t yet properly understand it, you know you can save people with your gift. Keeping it to yourself would border malicious intent. It wouldn’t sit right with you to just try and not help people.

You watch the paramedics.

They are good people. Helping others without any superpowers. Just because they want to. It couldn’t be easy seeing people at the verge of life and death on a regular basis. But they do it because they want to... because they want to.

You don’t know what you want. You want to help people, yes. But ‘the people’ you want to help first and foremost were your sister and yourself. Maybe you could commercialize your talent? But how? What would Jesus do? Wait, Jesus healed people too. Has he had powers too? You almost chuckle at the thought of forming a cult with you as some sort of spirit healer. Maybe you’d get a nice harem?

What’s the fuck is wrong with you? You’re a fresh murderer and are sitting in an ambulance whit your sister unconscious.


“Whuh?”, you were startled by one of the paramedics as he hands you a bottle of water and box of crackers.

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My last silver coin glints in the afternoon light as the shopkeeper flips it between pudgy fingers.

I tap my foot against the wooden floor, then drum my fingers against my thigh. The shopkeeper squints a bit, examining the face on the coin – some Hyuga lord, long dead. I chew on the inside of my cheek, run my hands through my hair, and try my best to suppress a sigh.

Apparently I don’t do a good enough job, because the shopkeeper glances over at me. “Quit fidgeting,” he tells me, moving the coin a bit so it catches the sun again. “And keep your hands where I can see them.” Behind him, a shadow flickers ever so slightly, and for a moment he looks like he’s about to turn towards it.

“They’re right here,” I tell him, holding my hands. The movement brings his attention back around towards me. “And I’m not fidgeting, I’m just waiting. Patiently.”

The shopkeeper grunts. “You call that patient?”

“Pretty patient, yeah,” I say. “Not a lot of people that’d wait twenty minutes for you to decide whether you’re gonna let them pay you.”

“There’s something funny about this coin,” the shopkeeper says simply. He’s still watching me out of the corner of his eye, I can tell. Behind him, a figure shifts in the shadows – I wait with bated breath, but he doesn’t seem to notice

“It’s good silver,” I say.

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I'm falling before the word is entirely past my lips. By the time I hit the ground, shoulder crunching from the impact, Kakashi has readied his knife. He places his foot on my chest and pins me in place, holding the blade high above my head.

Nobody moves for an endless, agonizing minute, until a decision finally flickers across Kakashi’s face. He slides the knife back into a sheath in his belt, then bends down an scoops me up again.

Even as he continues walking, the silence stretches on. I’m not exactly sure what to say – should I thank him for deciding to spare my life?

After a long while, he finally speaks. “How did you do it?”

“How?” Usually people were far more concerned with the why. But Kakashi only nods.

“Fuinjutsu is one of the three primary Shinobi arts,” he says. “Situations like this are exactly why it’s kept away from the peasantry.”

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I grunt. “So next year is a big year?”

“The biggest,” Kakashi says. “The Prince of the Sun and the Princess of the Moon, born only months apart, will both participate in this year’s hunt. They’ll be surrounded by a gaggle of hangers on and sycophants – the future lords and ladies of this country – and by the time the week ends, they’ll have come into their thrones fully. Both Daimyos crowned in a single night.”

“Sounds historic, or whatever.”

“I don’t care about the history. My family will be there and…they have something of mine. Something I’d very much like back. Something I can’t get to without you.”

I glance over at him, surprised. Kakashi stares straight ahead, but there is a quiet fire in his eyes. “As a ronin, I’m barred from attending the hunt,” he explains. “I shed my honor and my privilege when I abandoned my duty, and they’ll hang me if they find me there. But.” He looks at me. “There are laws older than Shinobi. As my student – as the inheritor of my art, you would be entitled to participate. And as your sensei, I would be allowed to accompany you.”

“I’d…be in the hunt?”

“Yes,” Kakashi says. “For one year, I will train you. It’s not much time, I admit, but we could get your…your problem under control. Teach you the basics. If you survive the hunt, and impress somebody, they could elevate you. Make you a Shinobi, make it so you’re never poor and starving and weak again.”

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Previous Thread:




Equipment FAQ:


Player List:


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Fusion Annihilators would take too long to charge and won't do as much damage as 6 chain mines or the two plasma chain cannons.

Black Frost will be wasted as we can't close to kill them; we're being warped out in a turn. Better to fire a fuckton of Void Missiles at them instead. The goal is to lower the enemy population to beneath the amount Vovoid needs.

I think >>3364527 has the best call with loading silvers to use Absolute Zero or just to save them for later.
Of course he wouldn't have his armor hallmarks, he's in an entirely different armor. Who else uses swords and would hate us that much? Who else suddenly disappeared from the story out of nowhere? Who wandered off into the darkness that we were never able to find?

He's either Koichi or Spiral Gigante and I'm pretty sure Gigante is Naoya.
Naoya's White Joker. He literally transformed in front of us!
Yes and Spiral Gigante would be his old identity before he put on the WJ armor.
Koichi being Vovoid doesn't work with this theory:

>He has a lot of quality of life improvements, too. Like the ability to apparently see a Player's real identity in armor.

Just to throw it into the discussion.

The wind howls throughout the dead plains, telling of a battle that is to come. And come it will, as you begin to outline four figures in the hills. You have perched yourself over the demon king's castle's gates like a harmless pigeon, but your appearance says otherwise in a sharp refute. Many years have you stayed in this exact spot, overseeing the scenery before you without any real change. Even after your lord's resurrection, you're still plagued by a monotonous atmosphere of being the final guard to his castle.

When the four figures get closer, your heart begins to race. It's a natural reaction to battle, but there's something more to it. In the group is a fair maiden, adorned with a wizard's cap and cloth, a long staff in her hand; the staff, though, is misused, the girl using it as a walking stick. The hard thing to swallow is that this is the hero's party, and conflict in imminent the moment you show yourself.

The leader of the group, which, of course, is the hero, pokes around at your gate. He talks to his comrades for advice, eventually concluding to blow down the apparatus itself. But before they start to go through with the destructive plan, you jump down from above to present yourself, greatsword drawn from its scabbard. You're not just any castle guard, but the final one: Ulysses, the Guard Dog

Immediately you state your name. In turn, the heroes brandish their tools for impending violence. "Why do you side with the demon king?!" their leader said, gallant in both style and speech.

> "Obligatory reasons."
> "His pay is generous. But that's when he's alive."
> "For battle. It's my purpose as the demon king's final guard and knight."
> Do not answer.
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>> Ask if she knows where Lorelei would be. She's a priestess, so she much be at some cathedral or church.
>Ask if she knows where Lorelei would be. She's a priestess, so she much be at some cathedral or church
> Ask if she knows where Lorelei would be. She's a priestess, so she much be at some cathedral or church.

Talk with the priestess first so she can help us with the others.

> Ask if she knows where Ire would be.

Ok, no teasing the elf
> Ask if she knows where Lorelei would be. She's a priestess, so she much be at some cathedral or church.
>Ask if she knows where Lorelei would be. She's a priestess, so she much be at some cathedral or church.

For House & Dominion: Crucible (3)



You are Sonia Reynard, Viscount of Rioja and a member of House Jerik-Dremine!

The Alliance's invasion of the Neeran Empire is underway. With the first wave on the verge of accomplishing its objectives all second wave units began to mobile earlier this year. Your fleet has departed Rioja and crossed the hazardous depths of space known as the Crystal Sea. As part of the second wave you'll be targeting critical locations that could potentially turn the tide back in the enemy's favour if left intact.

Many of your allies in the Dominion are busy attempting to capture shield piercing weapon technology. You've elected to pursue a different target. During your expedition to the Dyson sphere you recovered data providing the location of another builder facility. The Rioja fleet -with additional support from the Ruling House- will attempt to capture the facility or recover as much tech and knowledge as possible.

Besides Rioja's already formidable fleet you've brought Jerik-Dremine's super heavy cruiser Forbearance. Combined with the Ruling House's Sovereign class "Ta'jek Ber'helum" you have a fast powerful force that in theory can outrun whatever it cant out fight. Those aren't your only allies, the Knights of the Dominion, Krath mercenaries and PCCG mercs under the commander of former Shallan Admiral Mezan round out the fleet.

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>Make stopovers
Here's a smaller version of the map. If anyone wants to mark a few route suggestions?
I'll resume around 7pm tonight.
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A couple of suggested routes.

Path A (red): Closer to SRL Raiders, four galaxies and then a direct jump to "Yang"
Bath B (green): Four galaxies and then a direct jump to "Yang"
Path C (violet): Three galaxies and direct jump to "Yang"
Path D (blue): Closer to Alliance fleet, two galaxies, direct jump to "Yang"
Blue path

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

>Leader's name:
>General location:(mountains, jungle, plains, ocean, lake, etc.)
>Fluff about nation:
>Fluff about leader:
>General magic practises or other speciality (for a magic-related bonus, can be replaced with tech or situational bonus, too, so it doesn't have to be magic, but make it ONE)
Don't fill this in:
>Population: 10000
>Military: 100 Soldiers
>Power level: 1
>Tech Level: 1

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Roll at least 1d100 first. You can roll 2d100, too. Then it will be combat as usual
Also, you have 225 soldiers and 1 stone rhino. That's worth 4d10 in total in combat
Rolled 63, 61 = 124 (2d100)

1-2. Train charioteers
+stone rhino pens
+ Iron Weapons I
+Chariotry I
Counting of Spears
- Rural Development I
- Urban Development I
- Regional Expansion IV
- Impal System I
- Military Organisation I
Rolled 3, 2, 8 = 13 (3d10)

Other 2 soldiers and rhino
Rolled 84, 75 = 159 (2d100)

>Name: Nurdolian
>Leader's name: Durmond
>Race: Human
>Color: White
>General location:(mountains, jungle, plains, ocean, lake, etc. More detailed the better I can make a map..maybe)
>Fluff: https://pastebin.com/jpVvVEG9

>General magic practices

>Population: 9,865
>Military: 100 Soldiers

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Workplace Safety Edition

ALL BINS: https://pastebin.com/u/Gobblepokemon
Character info pastebin in progress: http://pastebin.com/iB0tb7rz
Dice odds for best of 3: http://pastebin.com/994WTT3g

Latest bin: https://pastebin.com/MnTZZFQu

General rules:

There is a 10 minute voting period after each post. Non-contradictory votes will be combined as best as possible.
Write-ins for all votes are always welcome and encouraged. They may not all make it into the post or be altered to fit in, but I'll do my best to at least try to address the spirit of the write-in.

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Hey guys? I know I can tend to take things too literally, so I’ll ask you guys:

What did Garde mean about her memories/the sun?
1. She's most collected during the day, it's comfortable for her due to her connection with the Solrocks for so long.
2.She's commenting about how her memories are fleeting, but that the one's with Herb are there even during the night.
3. She's psychic and connected to practically everyone in the camp even unconsciously, Herb's memories glow brightly.
4.I dunno, weird pokemon wisdom hullabaloo
> Thanks, ~daddy.~” She winks
y-you too
>Herb glows in the dark
He's a secret agent after all!
Man, if the Pokemon world was darker, or atleast more upfront about it and darker than it already is, why do i feel like people that could tap into aura would naturally gravitate to assassination

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The world streaks past you in dizzying ribbons of neon. Your hair whips back from your face, the force of your descent plastering it back against your skull in wild tendrils and streamers. Flashes of brilliance race across your form as sparks erupt from the contact between your skates and the heavy iron girder underfoot. The magnetic plate laced between the wheels of your skates is all that keeps you from hurtling into mid-air, into oblivion—its deathgrip on the girder is inexorable.

As you crest a bend in the iron riser, the construction site in front of you unfolds. The north of the old city is polka-dotted with these half finished construction projects, skeletal remains of an entrepreneur’s dead vision or gravestones to mark the dignity of investors in a con-man's laundering scheme. Unlike the glowing neon landscape behind you, New Audas is dimly lit. Still, your quarry can't escape you.

The misty, ethereal form of the revenant below you dips in and out of the half-finished projects with a casual disregard for solid matter. The steady drip-drip-drip of old blood leaking from its claws is all but drowned out by the shriek of metal on metal roaring from your skates. Still, you can't help but catch the flashes of ectoplasm white-green as it leads you on a merry chase.

You can't afford to take too long. Your crew is trying to catch up behind you, but delaying the cops takes priority over backing you up. ACPD doesn't bother with the rubber bullets this far north of midtown. You've got ten, maybe fifteen minutes before a helicopter is en-route. The window of the hunt, ever shrinking. You can only hope it will be enough.

With a tap of your toe you disengage your maglock, dropping off of the girder into the rib cage of I-beams below you. A bounce here, a handspring there, and you find yourself in a half-complete parking structure. The cold concrete seems to sublimate an eerie mist in the chill night air, a clear sign that your quarry is still close at hand.

Municipal Cark Park Seven. One of a thousand projects eternally suspended in funding limbo. You're not familiar with the building itself, but you know the template. A half-finished concrete ramp to your right. An elevator shaft, absent its cabin to your left. A long, concrete plain before you. And there, rising from the ground in jerky horror movie stop-motion:

Your prey. The revenant. The burning embers of red light in its hollowed eyes sockets flare with malevolent light, and it lunges to close the gap with unreal speed. A chill races down your spine as the looming shape of your Passenger manifests behind you, a hazy shadow in absence of any light to cast it. A heartbeat from violence. The world slows to a crawl.

> Can't let those claws get into your flesh. Kick on the turbo.

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>You're no coward. Get on that cable and grind that rail baby.
> You're no coward. Get on that cable and grind that rail baby.
Is this even a question
>> You're no coward. Get on that cable and grind that rail baby.

>—Race 1—
This keeps popping up in the middle of posts. What is it?
>> You're no coward. Get on that cable and grind that rail baby.
I need some music for this.
> Write-in
Would grinding on the rail cause the advertisements to fall? Since we can’t ask the director to infect the ads it’s probably the best we can do.

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