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

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

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

Anyone can post images.
Anyone can use painter.
Anyone can use dice & spoilers.
Only OP can use text formatting.
3000 character limit.
750 bump limit.
Decreased post timer to match /tg/ (30 seconds for text, 60 seconds for an image reply).
Automatic permasage after 72 hours.
Thread specific user IDs.
Max threads per IP is 5.
Standard 7 day internal archive.

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Valyria has fallen.

The greatest city the world has ever seen has died in the cataclysm that split the Land of the Long Summer, burnt away the cedars of Velos and signaled the end of an Era.

And yet its legacy persists, in the form of its colonies - Volantis and her ten sister-cities: Tyrosh, Myr, Norvos, Pentos, Lorath, Lys, Qohor, Bravos, Gogossos and Essaria – and the surviving cities on the border of the Valyrian heartland – Elyria, Mantarys, Tolos and their neighbors.

Dark omens abound these days - far to the North a dragonlord proclaimed himself Emperor of Valyria, while there are rumors of a mighty Khal uniting the barbarians of the East. The High King has apparently lost any interest in exerting royal authority on his fellow Sarnorian monarchs, letting the country slowly spiral into a cold war that could at any moment turn hot, pitting the Eastern Marches of the High Kingdom against its heartland. Belicho, the Archon of Essaria, appears posited to resign due to domestic pressure while an early winter is slowly setting in thanks to the ashes released in the atmosphere by the what many already call “the Doom”.

And yet…nothing of this seems to matter to Aegar Tagaros, Triarch of the Tiger party.

>“..only we are suited to reunite the Daughters of the Freehold, for Valyria lives on through its eldest daughter, mighty Volantis!”

A loud cheer erupts from the crowd, as said man speaks loudly from atop the stairs leading to the great doors in the Black Wall.

>“The Freehold shall endure. We survived the invasions of the Old Empire of Ghis, defeated the barbarians of the East and bent the Rhoynars to our will! We are the greatest civilization this world has ever known and We. Shall. Endure!”

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>> Do not intervene for now (Second option)
Ok let s try this
Intervene, I reckon we can take him.
>Intervene and offer to be Daenera’s champion (First option)

We can’t let them return to raiding

Offer to be her champion - but also accuse him of insulting the mother’s memory by denying her this great honour
>They'll seek to return to raid..and Valarr will be almost too glad to put a permanent end to the tribes of the Painted Mountains that did not follow you
I figured as much, I thought we'd send them one last threat on their way out.
>Do not intervene for now (Second option)

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Perpetual Defiance - Thread 5 - Dire Portents


Welcome to Perpetual Defiance, here we play a game where you assume the role of a soldier working in the delightfully overpaid, but also morally gray Solar Auxilia mercenary formation which was lobbied into existence through the efforts of a lot of planetary governors through the Imperial senate. Your job is basically go to planets to keep a lid on things in case of a rebellion or a xenos invasion, and keep killing stuff until the Imperial Army arrives or the problem is solved whilst the governor lines your pockets.

The year is M31.005 and you've got the questionable blessing of being born as a Perpetual, an extremely rare kind of deviation of humanity who happens to possess a rather unique and questionable blessing. That being of functional immortality, with only very few methods actually existing in the entire galaxy to keep you gone permanently. Naturally, the downside is that the galaxy you live in is pretty shitty and about to get a whole lot worse.

The planet you're on is teeming with rebels. Not only that, there's at least one active Alpha Legion operative on the planet who sabotaged the space station and is likely responsible for swapping out rebel leaders with identical looking copies. Furthermore, another hostile vessel just recently arrived on the system, belonging to another group entirely. Well, you can check the details on the archives.

On the last thread you went to a fancy dinner party where you gave an interview to the planet's only media organization (obviously government owned and heavily regulated), got some medals, bought some guns from a gun show, blue balled an extremely influential lady of the high-nobility and ended up getting in a wrestling match with the champion of a local duelist fraternity.

We left off in a scenario where the governor offered you a boon for your exceptional performance, and you explained to him how as an aspiring officer, you couldn't afford to remain as a total meathead. As such, you requested for some education on the noble profession of construction work, as well as a copy of his libraries on as durable a portable format as possible.

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I've just the entirety of the quest and I have to say... How THE FUCK are we this much of a fucking chad holy shit?
Dice mostly. Plus the whole Perpetual thing. Those nat 1's at the start of the hive really pulled us through.
I'm a little bit sad we didn't go for the Mujahideen Guerilla path with the Colonel and his buddies, but the sheer badassery that carried us through the Hive was insane. Wouldn't surprise me if we become a legend that last for ten thousand years on this planet.
We'll create a cult following where worshippers will sacrifice hats to our name, via immolation. We'll hate it.
Nah not that big of a deal. Likely mostly forgotten in a few hundred years. Plus the HH has a *lot* of whacky shit going on that dwarfs our little stunt.

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You are Jarson Physeter,second born son of Hectar Physeter the Lord of Boulder island. Your family is sworn to the Farwynds of the Lonely Light, the westernmost region of the Iron Islands, far into the Sunset Sea. You are a skinchanger and currently 15 years old.The year is 294 AC

Last thread you arrived at Fair Isle in the Westerlands and after meeting a peculiar girl, you were invited to Faircastle where you met Lord Sebaston Farman and feasted with his family. Sensing an opportunity, you have engaged in a business discussion with the noble man.


House Physeter living members:

- Hectar, father ,48 years
- Lexia, mother, 37 years
- Jafir, brother, 17 years
- Jarson(you), 15 years
- Leah, sister, 14 years

- Rodwin Pyke, bastard cousin, 21 years

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Changing to >jewel merchant
>>the jewel merchant
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You approach the Jewel merchant shop lured by the shiny ornaments on display. The shop is surrounded by three sellsword guards that watch over the merchandise with Hawk-like eyes.
As you get close one of the guards, throw off by your age and unusual appearance, moves a hand to his sword hilt and halts your advance.

You are about to argue with the guard when the merchant intervenes.
“Let him through, numbskull! Business is bad enough without you scaring away customers. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother hiring you lot.”

He puts up an exaggerated smile and motions you to come forward
“Come, come young man. My name Is Donnel and I happen to sell the finest jewelry in all of Fair Isle. May I ask you what exactly you are searching for?”

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>I wish to buy a gift to my sister
>I wish to buy a gift to my mother
>Do you know anyone who would be interested in buying some whale bones

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The Wyld fades. The Weaver plots. The Wyrm writhes.

The end is drawing nearer. As corruption, malignancy, and apathy consume the world, signs of the impending apocalypse are apparent, for those who know what to look for.

But all is not yet lost, not as long Gaia's warriors still have their fangs and claws...

I have not been to this board in years, and I have never run a quest before. Doing this purely on a whim, as well as to try and learn how World of Darkness plays, as well as an excuse to draw (badly). No real idea what direction this is going in, I'm quite literally making this up as I go along.

We will be using Werewolf 20th anniversary, plus any splats and ideas that catch my fancy. Fingers crossed, we have some fun. If not,then no real loss.
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Either Some scales or this >>4881847
Depending on which is easier to draw.
I say this is good.
One is good.

But if the majority say to add more, I say retractable fangs, like a snake but only in the bigger fangs. Or even something that looks more "Wyrm-like" (if the deformities aren't doing it already), for example green supernatural eyes or something. But not scales, fuck that
I mean I'm all for having some gimmicks, but do we really want to be some kind of meme tier mutant when we will already be shat on by other doggos for being a blood incest baby with horns
Vooting Locked, horns shall, fortunately, be the only deformity that you'll have to overcome.

The year is 2021, and the Civil War rages across America. Across major cities, communists rise under the banner of the Proletariat Revolution. In the Northwest, a fascist warlord state has emerged to provide order and security. The East Coast is consumed by fighting between remnants of the US military, local warlords, and U.N. Peacekeepers. Texas is its own republic again, and the West Coast has turned into a Chinese puppet managed by mega-corporations. The world's going up in flames, and nobody knows what tomorrow will bring...

You are the Messenger (former name: Walter White) and you lead the Sun Belt Crusaders. Your group is best described as a radical Catholic cult claiming the papal throne and supporting itself via meth trade, violence, and cunning diplomacy. Having fled your former territory in Southern California, you have established a presence in Arizona, specifically in the village of Mobile just southwest of Phoenix.

Your radical group has not only won the support of the nearby communities diplomatically, but has proven itself to be a powerful force on the battlefield in taking a mountain base used to launch raids on surrounding communities and finding success in smaller skirmishes. The nearby town of Maricopa has begun to provide significant material support in exchange for your services, especially in light of aggressive actions by downtown Phoenix's revolutionary republic. In short time, there will be a meeting between the town and said revolutionary republic to determine the fate of Maricopa.

Your faction has been up to now growing, building, and generally doing well. Recently, however, disaster has struck. A new warlord who appears to be a former prison warden turned raider has shown up to Mobile at a moment of critical weakness issuing demands. His forces are massive compared to yours, and fighting now is tantamount to suicide.

This new warlord, however, is but one of the many dangers in the Southwestern Badlands. Such dangers range from yet other escaped convicts turned raiders, potential cartel elements, hostile government actors (perhaps even in your own faction), and a myriad other groups you're slowly, but surely, coming into contact with. The proverbial elephant in the room though is the major urban center of Phoenix. Phoenix is currently occupied with a massive war raging between the communist Phoenix Occupied Zone (POZ) and a loose coalition of right wingers. If either faction takes control of the city, it will immediately become the regional hegemon and a threat to everyone else. And, of course, Chinese controlled California or another outside faction could start making moves in the area at any time.

Your short-term goal is to deal with local threats and build up your base of power. Your medium term goal is to secure Phoenix and the greater Badlands region. Your end goal is to bring the Glory of Christ to the entire country, no matter the cost in blood, meth, or tears...
This post is not by the qm. The real qm will arrive soon

Past Threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=sun+belt+crusaders

Starter guide/refresher qm made: justpaste dot it/sbc-refresher

Yeah question: when can we start massacring commies and trannies
When the QM shows up and after we do some more faction building. We already Bad Ended once because we tried to throw ourselves at a stronger force without considering the consequences, I'd rather try to avoid a repeat if at all possible.

Hello Imperial Navy Captain QM.[/spoiler

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Last time, you made lunch for everyone, went to classes, didn’t pay attention to them, and after that you convinced everyone to procrastinate together instead of doing their jobs for no good reason. Your current objective is to meet the last member of Wilma’s group: the mysterious Cookie. Right now, you’re with Wilma and Chio in pursuit of the baked piece of food. The Ex-Sandwich knows her current whereabouts, but she’s not willing to divulge them unless Chio accepts to keep it a secret. Something she refused to do, showing the worst qualities that remind you of a certain homeless girl...

Since Wilma didn’t expect a resounding ‘No’, she’s fidgeting while holding your arm, unsure of what to do now. Chio remains impassive. The silence is deafening… so you’ll kill it.

“Wilma, whisper to me what’s going on.” You know Wilma trusts you! You hunch down a little so it’s easier for her to whisper in your ear.

The troubled girl with messy hair explains with difficulty that Cookie must be hiding in one of the secret underground bunker rooms in the farm warehouse that the school has forgotten about, that were created during the traitor revolt years ago. The place is used by students to dilly-dally all day and sometimes all night instead of going to classes or work, a miniscule number of students know about this sacred place, and they want to keep it that way. That’s a lot to take in. Judging by the way she’s talking, their relationship is a little rocky as of late, so Wilma doesn’t want to possibly break it beyond repair.

“I see…” You wonder if your school has an underground bunker now. Anyway, you’ll mentally call this place the Cookie Factory.

“Phil, inform me of what she just told you.” Chio has no chill.

“Um, I think that defeats the purpose of what just happened.” You scratch the back of your head. “If you agree not to tell anyone, I’ll tell you.”

“I won’t agree to do anything until Wilma gets her act together. The way she’s behaving is not normal.” Chio glares at her friend intensively. She realizes she’s not getting anywhere with this attitude and shakes her head. “Excuse me, Phil. Could you please leave us alone for a couple of minutes? We need to talk in private.”

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>>Find Cookie. You made a promise to make this day awesome, and you’ll fulfill it! Leave the other details for later, it can get too overwhelming if you continue talking.

"Chio, you still need to promise not to tell anyone about where we're going without getting Wilma's permission first. I think it's only fair you trust her to have reasons she wants you to keep it secret, since she decided to put her trust in us already."
I know this is totally contrary to the sorts of shadowrunning and paranoia I was talking about earlier, but something just occurred to me.

You know, not that it couldn't be done but...how exactly would the person who fell down the stairs herself not know that she was tripped or pushed by someone? Sounds like maybe Cookie just actually had an accident and the Orphanage just used it to intimidate Wilma. That's a classic move for this kind of manipulation.
Probable, but unless verified, it is possible entity activity.

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Congratulations [fill in your name here]!
You have been [s]promoted[/s] / demoted to the rank of [s]Guardsman[/s] / [s]Servitor[/s] / Conscript / [s]Penal Trooper[/s] as part of our initiative to reassign excess Departmento Munitorum personnel to the front lines for the Glory of the Imperium!
Fill out the below information to aid in your reassignment (information may be reviewed by your superior and/or Commissar):

[ ] Male
[x] Female

Former Occupation:
[ ] Clerk
[ ] Cook / Food Server
[ ] Medical Orderly
[ ] Menial
[ ] Messenger

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Go to sleep, reading while drunk just makes eyes hurt.

Nice nailing the partying at a strangers place and guess you've got to be friends now vibe.
>Go to sleep, you are already have way there anyways
>Go to sleep, you are already have way there anyways
>Read religious pamphlet, maybe it is more interesting
>>Read religious pamphlet, maybe it is more interesting
Let the Saint of Happiness fill your head with pleasant thoughts before going to sleep...
Boing boing thoughts...

It is a time of peace. With Lord Freeza’s explosive declaration, naming himself Emperor of the Universe after single-handedly obliterating the Covenant stronghold High Charity, peace has come to the universe. Not wanting to stand against him and his unstoppable Super Saiyans, within days of his declaration the universe bent the knee. And while there are always outliers, those stubborn or foolish enough to try and resist, the overwhelming majority of the universe is bending the knee. And he wouldn’t have achieved all this, defeated the strongest military in the universe and survived the Prophet’s ultimate weapon without your help.

Welcome to Saiyan Conqueror Quest, the story of an alternate timeline in the greater Dragonball EU. Currently it is Age 749 and you the players control Karn: once an ordinary Saiyan warrior with a meager powerlevel of 2,830 who has risen to become a mighty Super Saiyan, and so much more. Throughout your many adventures, the “Dragon of New Salda” has grown into the symbol of Saiyan might and power recognized actoss the universe. Now as a PTO general with a powerlevel of over 48 million, and close friend and confidant of Lord Freeza himself, Karn has become his people’s greatest champion.

Character sheets and other info:

Quest rules are as follows:
>30 minute voting windows from post time
>Pick ONE option when voting(unless otherwise noted)
>Dice rolls are all best of first three, only correctly rolled dice pools will count
>One roll post per person, unless at least ten minutes has passed since your last roll then you can roll again
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)

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Imagine this, you son of a bitch
>people still want to make hilariously super dangerous saibamen
This is about as retarded as being a basic human and actively choosing to go out in the middle of new salda's forests at night. Your just asking to get eaten by the murder wookiees this is so fucking dumb.
If I want to fistfight sasquatch I'm gonna fucking do it, punk.
It’s about what I expected from anons here

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(This is probably a one-shot.)

You are probably the unluckiest Birkan alive. Before today, your life consisted of tard-wrangling a man who had trouble even feeding himself. Now, you're about to fight that same man, who can probably kill you in a single punch. The only one backing you up is a small, helpless animal, albeit one capable of speech. Your odds are slim, but surely you can beat someone as stupid as Gedatsu, right?

Before you have your bones rearranged, what is your name, ex-Divine Soldier?
>Write in

And why did you end up joining Enel's army, anyway?
>You're no fan of Enel, but it was better than dying.
>Might makes right, and Enel's the mightiest!
>Enel's obviously a real God. It's not like anyone else can turn their whole body into an element, right?
>Write in
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>stick around the deer, it's not like Enel would give a "failure" medical attention.
>You'll throw yourself in with these Blue Sea weirdos, at least for now. Their mascot/doctor saved your life, after all!
>You'll throw yourself in with these Blue Sea weirdos, at least for now. Their mascot/doctor saved your life, after all!

Going with these; I mean shit, who else are we going to for medical attention? "God"? Pffft.
>You'll throw yourself in with these Blue Sea weirdos, at least for now. Their mascot/doctor saved your life, after all!

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Rolled 5, 5, 2, 2, 4, 4 = 22 (6d6)

You are Myrin, an elf hailing from the distant land of Elfenheim. You have come to the realm of men and beast seeking adventure, glory and wealth. Such restlessness is uncommon to elven kind, but not unheard of, and your parents reluctantly accepted your decision to leave home, convinced more by your older brother's (the favorite of the family) entreaty on your behalf than anything you actually said.

Eldarenth (your older brother) even gave you a going-away present, carefully chosen to suit your tastes (he was always good at giving gifts) before you set sail for the outer realms.

>His old sword, an elvish blade with a weak enchantment. Blood and viscera don't cling to it and it glows in the presence of danger
>Your grandfather's old journal from the time when he went on a similar expedition. It has many details on the various cultures of men and beast (including a map of their respective territories) which may come in handy when you encounter them.
>One of the newly hatched chicks of his gold-throated canary, a very intelligent and resourceful little bird that elves sometimes use to pass messages or scout
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>Do as the woman asks and wait for this "raptor"
She's the first human we've meet, let's not already leave.
>Do as the woman asks and wait for this "raptor"
Walking away from this NPC would be a dick move
>Do as the woman asks and wait for this "raptor"

So, how is this world? From what I see it might be a mix between medieval fantasy like Tolkien and Monster Hunter (?)

Are dinosaurs normal creatures you find everywhere? Do they have magical propierties depending on the type? Are there other "magical creatures" aside from dinosaurs?
Its inspired by an amalgam of media, Tolkien is a big one, though played more parodically than straight. Pulp fantasy ala Vance and Howard (and the artwork of Frazetta) is another. The dino stuff is inspired more by Tarkovskys Primal, than monster hunter.

As for the other questions Ill answer them through the woman in the next update.
>walk to Citadel yourself
you are not looking to put anyone out, you are not in a rush either. A few days here or there don't mean anything to you, we can even spend a night in the forest.

As the women if there is any danger, thats why she may be concerned

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You look over the latest batch of Progena as they mill through the the tightly packed hall on the other side of the one way crystalline glass, nearly 90% of them looking dazed and confused as their basic Cognizance forced them to trudge forward in the same flow as the rest of the hoard out of some primal instinct to remain amongst others. It was rare for so many to go through the process of mindscaping in a single batch, but reading through the file presented to you by the child sized servitude that followed you (Some failure of a ‘applicant’ that could not endure the process it’s peers had been subjected to) the majority of the batch had come from the same location and all of those had been survivors of the very same catastrophe. It was remarkable that some agent of the emperor, you had yet to meet them in order to hand out accolades for such a fine harvest, had managed to find so many potential progena in a single event. Each child had a detailed dossier, describing mental capabilities, skills, physical aptitude, and even estimated psychic level. No blanks, likely already hand picked by those companions to the emperor's own, the Sisters of Silence, before the batch had so much as left their camps.

With a quick swipe of your fingers, the dataslate flew through the attached intel, using keywords and interlinked terms to bring up the information you desired at a rapid and efficient pace, a much appreciated tool that made you nonetheless miss the physical paper and bound times you were so accustomed to. Discovering new information lacked the sharp, surprising edge when it was unceremoniously presented to you as light on a screen with only a brief loading image preceding it. The silence of the action, save for the barest hum from the machine itself, was the teeth grindingly bothersome. You weathered the minor irritation despite your wish for proper paper in your hands, purely because of the convenience this device provided.

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It's the nature of them being drill sergants that prevented me saying "let's hit this cunt in the dick while he is paying attention to the others."

Because numbers beat anyone without a plot name.
That's stupid.

I mean, he's bad and all, but revolting against the schola is only going to get you dead. And ultimately, they're here to make you into an officer. Right now, nothing of what he's done is cruel for an drill abbott.

Until he starts to starve Macharian or leave him in the cold to develop tuberculosis, he's simply doing his cruel, cruel job.
Yeah, the Schola Progenium is a place that should have it down to a science just how much punishment they can inflict on these kids, while still maximizing the physical and mental growth of them.

From what I’ve read, they don’t seem to worry about losing kids or even whole years in extreme cases, but these kids are investments meant to carry the imperium to victory.

So they’ll break a few bones or sacrifice a few failures to get the best out of these kids, but they’re not going to do it stupidly I imagine.
Lookin like this wins, writing
I dont get what you find stupid.
The instinctive reaction to attack the person who is hurting you.

Or the rational part of the mind who says "he is doing it for your own good, bear with it"

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It's the dream again.
The same dream you've been having for years.
You can't even remember when it first started.

But it always feels absurdly real.

It starts with you walking down a long ornate hall at a steady pace to the wide double doors at the end. Your very footsteps seems to brim with purpose and pride when striding down the hallway. Boots clicking on the polished stone floor.

The regularity of the dream is such that you know exactly what comes next down to the second.

In two steps, you will passing by a vase of gorgeous bright red roses and pause a moment to take in their scent.

A second latter, you'll look down and see that you're carrying...

> A fine silvery cloak with a broach studded with green gems, you can't help but admire the craftsmanship.

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Rolled 2 (1d2)

Well better break this tie. Then start writing
Fear grips you in a way that you have never experienced before, heart rapidly hammering away in your chest and cold sweat forming on your brow. You can't bring yourself to move, even though your friends are within arm's reach, and desperately need you.

The thought of looking for a phone to use to call for help dies when you realize that the phone is far from you and dialing it could attract the attention of 'it'.

You imagined yourself as a brave girl. All the stories you read as a child made bravery seem like such a simple thing that anyone could summon forth at a moment's notice with no effort at all. Now you know better, courage is a virtue and you have it not.

The pit of your stomach churns with shame at your inability to do anything. You want your father or even your mother to save you. But they're far away, and you're the only here. Powerless and terrified, a mere 14 year old girl that can do nothing.

This is what you are. All you can do is silently cry.


You hear Naru scream as she tries to escape 'it'.

It was in that split second you realize that the brief scramble was your opportunity to move and do something. The attention of 'it' must be wholly focused on your unfortunate classmate Naru.

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Update on
Physical +1d6 (1 per scene)
Will +1d6 (1 per scene)

Perks and Flaws:
Observant: Just the little things.
Sneaky: Ya can't catch me... but everyone thinks it's me anyways.
Cooking skills: Better than the average teen!
Scaredy Cat: Sometimes, fear is the only appropriate reaction.
Hm, looks like I won't time to continue this. Next Friday evening is probably when I'll pick up again. If the thread is still around, we'll continue onwards with it.

If not, a new thread will be created.

I hope that those who participated enjoyed playing around in the shoujo universe of Sailor Moon as one of the many student victims attending Juuban Middle School.
Rolled 4, 4, 6 = 14 (3d6)

The thread will absolutely still be around by Friday.

>You can sneak attack 'it' since 'it' is focusing attention on Naru only. roll 3d6 DC 12

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You were born in the kingdom of four rivers, where the civilized races live in harmony and monsters are banished to the wilderness. It is an age of prosperity but adventure awaits in the dark dungeons and ever since you were a little boy you have had a secret ambition. More than anything else in this world or any other you want to find and marry your perfect monster waifu. This is a dangerous quest. This is your story.
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Fighters suck, you're gay, simple as
Time to sow our wild oats in some dryads
Ayo this lil nigga based ngl

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It’s been seven years since the Collective War ended with humanity’s final strike against the aliens’ stronghold. Now weapons without a purpose, many of the mech PMCs founded by veterans have either sold out and joined civilian colonization operations or quietly shuttered. Indeed, you’re among the last of the original pilots that had yet to retire, many of your colleagues seeking solace with an early retirement, or at the bottom of a bottle.

After today, you should have joined them. It should have been an easy last job: escort a shipment of nuclear material across the ruins of old Gamma-1 to Gamma-3. Basically parade duty, considering it would take someone suicidal to try and raid a caravan guarded by mechs. Still, the state of your company left something to be desired: you had only a heavy mech, 2 light mechs, and a scout mech to your name, and with only enough supplies to fuel them for about two weeks. The gantry back home was already preparing for mothballing, and you had a seller waiting in Gamma-3 for the delivery of your bots. You would have been back home in time for the VC day celebrations with your nephews and nieces, rich and retired.

It should have been an easy last job. A Kaiju ambushing your convoy made sure it wasn’t.

Choose a preference for your company's mech deployments. This will determine your starting loadouts for your mech and influences pilot stats.
>Close Range: You prefer to drop in hot and drop in fast. Agility and martial skill are the name of the game.
>Midrange: Always advancing but remaining at a constant distance, you keep a balanced roster that can attack on all fronts.
>Long Range: If the enemy ever sees you, something's gone wrong. Long range artillery and large masses of missiles reduce the enemy to dust before they can take advantage of your pisspoor maneuverability.
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Rolled 3, 5, 1, 1 = 10 (4d6)

Oof, only 1 hit, rolling for monster evasion.
Rolled 3, 4, 6, 3 = 16 (4d6)

Yup, monster dodges.

Total of 10 damage dealt to it this phase, not enough to trigger a second rampage.

Rolling for the monster's death from above attack against Pietro, MAR 4 ROF 1
Rolled 1, 2, 5, 6 = 14 (4d6)

2 hits, Pietro attempts to evade.
Pietro succesfully evades.

Total is 10 damage to the monster, no damage dealt to any of your mechs.
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You swallow down your growing concern for the safety of your pilots in order to give clear concise orders. “Pietro, get your ass up and get swinging with your back up vibroblade, you have one for a reason. Tony, Kudlu, distract it however you can. Max, get the hell out of there!”
The two melee mech pilots aren’t joking around anymore, not with the life of their senior pilot on the line. They charge into the Gold Diggers range near effortlessly and attempt to flank it. Kudlu encounters trouble with the kaiju’s newfound swiftness but still manages to get a good hit in, causing the monster to take half a step back and free Pietro. Meanwhile, Tony blindsides a giant metal fist to the face, complete with vortex readily stripping away carapace and flesh alike. Pietro doesn’t take the chance to retreat like his fellow compatriots, going for a daring lunge with his vibroblade. The monster sees the attack coming however, and hops over both the attack and the mech just in time. Not to be fooled twice, Pietro easily makes space with his Hellion to avoid the crushing landing. All in all, not a bad amount of damage dealt to it in a short amount of time, although it’s almost certainly getting hurt enough to rampage once more soon.

>Decide your actions for each of your units now.

>Move (MV 11, choose a coordinate in range, can only be done if Retreat is also taken as an action.)

>Move (MV 8, choose a coordinate in range, can only be done if Retreat is also taken as an action.)

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