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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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With some hesitation we start at the beginning.

The alarm screams to life as the Emperor of Mankind rushes to his most precious project. Malcador, somewhat younger than most would see him rushes to his friends side as they witnesses his Primarchs, start to be whisked away by the warp. The containers each destined for a different location by machinations of the dark gods of the warp, angered by the Emperor of Mankind and his plans. The Emperor reaches out against the warp desperate with Malcador assisting to hold them back, as Erda, the mother, misguided in her bizarre machinations tries to give her sons a different life.

As this titanic struggle occurs for the fate of mankind itself, the pods begin to take their dark flight through the Immaterium. Several sailing in different directions, guided as some corrections are made last minute. Then one pod seems to be knocked astray. As this happens a pod marked XI is reached out to. It is moved by something from not yet to be, yet something that is real. “Maybe this time, things can be different after all.” A voice like thunder says in a gentle tone. “Go. Find Glory. My Son.” As a golden hand guides the pod a different way far off course.

The pod goes towards a different system the thundering voice cheers triumphantly as the pod moves, glowing in bright gold as it’s sigils seem to echo in space about it. This time. Maybe this time. Before it was different. Now things could go, perhaps as they should have.
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Oh no, I mean wait for them to finish, then do a haka in turn.
Ah okay. That was going to be an option after the performance. However, if yall want to get that out of the way now you can.


If everyone is feeling bold, you can challenge outright if you guys vote on it of course.
> Sit perfectly silent on your rock staring at them until they get there. Then stand right up, cross your arms and smugly, grin.
Smug is the way.
> Pretend to be sleeping until the last minute till right when they get close enough. Then surprise THEM. They'll be singing about that for a few years.
> Sit perfectly silent on your rock staring at them until they get there. Then stand right up, cross your arms and smugly, grin.

Last time on Dream Catchers: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4621306/

"With your first steps taken the path before you lies in wait. More gnashing teeth and scraping claws await you in the dim, good dweller. Stay warm and keep your head level lest it be snatched during your musings."
-An offered missive

Skirmish games are a collaborative effort between players and QM, with each player controlling their own character to co-operate with other players in the party to explore the environment, clear objectives, and advance their developments. The QM provides the board for play, and operates the interactions made visible for other players with each update posted to the thread. From there each active player replies to the most recent [Action phase] post to show the QM what their actions for the turn will be, and the QM processes those before showing results. This cycle repeats until the board has been cleared, a required objective has been met, or the party fails to successfully meet either of the prior two outcomes in time. Outside of exploration and combat players are able to level up and advance their characters, participate in story events, or interact with other characters (player and non-player controlled) in order to cater to their own experience.
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Malice befalls the party, as one caught in the open finds themselves hoisted between two spears and another suffers the savage bite of an axe built for war. The air befalls a grand chill among the inhabitants, the looming cold soon to bare down upon the realm.

[Action phase!]
[processing begins tomorrow at 11 a.m. CST / Noon EST; Feb 25th]
"O-okay, let's get the hell outta h-here already! It's f-freezing..."
>Cast ©Soothe on Jesse
>-Fleet EEE
|>Move NEE
>Overwatch: Cast (Basic) to the East

[S1] Duderson Lv1 (2Xp)
[STR 1 | POW 3+1 | BLK 1]
[ARM 0 | LUC 2+1 | HRT 4/4]
[MOV 3 | ACT 2 | TAP 1]
[VIS 3 | BAG 1]

Trait • >-©Dart

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[?Hero] Pork Soda Lv1 (0Xp)
[STR 1 | POW 1 | BLK 1]
[ARM 2 | LUC 2 | HRT 4/8]
|>4 >2 >-1 [VIS 4] [BAG 2+2]
Trait • Formless [Downtime: May freely adjust current classes & levels while resting]
Province: +1 Armor & Bag, +2 Hearts
Freedom: +1 |> & VIS, Unlocks Leap, Mantle Slide
Aimless Paranoia: Gain Doom when a character is in your blindspot
Bag • inventory stack space (1 stack = x5 0hand / x3 1hand / x1 2hand item)

Slot 1: Cutter
Slot 2: Boffer shield | Harm 2, Strike 2, BLK 1. >Break, >Bump
Burden Slot 1:

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[?4] Cluster Lv1 (0Xp)
[STR 1 | POW 1 | BLK 0]
[ARM 0 | LUC 1 | HRT 4]
|>3 >2 >-1 [VIS 3] [BAG 1]
Trait • Formless [Downtime: May freely adjust current classes & levels while resting]
Belt: (>-Quickswap storage: holds 1 item of 2Hand or smaller size)

Veil:+1 LUC
Bow: Harm 2|Strike 2|Range 5

>Move S
>-Face E
>Shoot skeleton 4tiles E
"I'm coming Skoldr!"
|>Move SSE
>Strike Skelman to the S with Conductor
>Shoot Skelman E of Skoldr

- #10 Murph - (Dweller Lv1) 0xp
[STR 1 | POW 2 | BLK 0]
[ARM 1 | LUC 2 | HRT 6]
|>4 >2 >-1 [VIS 4] [BAG 2]
• Formless [Downtime: May freely adjust current classes & levels while resting]
• Freedom [+1 |> & VIS, |>Leap, |>Mantle, |>Slide]
• Province[+1 ARM & BAG, +2 HRT]
• Reason[+1 POW & LUC]

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Hello everyone!

This is a quest based in the ASOIAF universe which follows a dropout of the Maester’s Citadel of Oldtown who is now trying to forge his own path. We find ourselves in the chilly year of 280. Our MC has some significant talents in alchemy and healing, but his social skills could use some polishing. So far, Tristan has managed to bend his path towards a potentially lucrative trade deal in trading wine to Lys from House Cuy. He is aided in this by his wife, Aemelia.

Previous Thread here: >>4616851

Character sheets can be found here: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1_tlOgFokvN4m4v9CfetEulrym40veyje?usp=sharing

I try to update my twitter on run times or significant changes here: https://twitter.com/CormaicB
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Yes, I vote for exploring this option along with renegotiation with the Lyseni in this regard since they plan on cutting into our profits.
We can always purchase our ship once we’re above the breakeven point.
>Take the Lysene name of Haeliathas. This recognizes Aemelia as the technical head of your family by Lysene laws, as expected by her bloodline, and helps with social ties across the sea. [Healer]

>You like the 3-year contract. It is the most efficient rate you could manage. [Alchemist]
>Stick with the Westerosi “Sunflower” instead. You don’t want to be that tied to Lys. [Rogue]
Haeliathas looks like a lock. As for the rest, I'm seeing...

3 for 3-year contract
2 for shop around
2 for holding off on buying a trade ship and middlemannning it

So, fairly split. Glad we fleshed this out before the actual meeting. Since there's not much to lose in taking another day or two, I'm going to set this up for exploring the alternative options suggested with write-ins with a preference towards more efficient loans. We'll decide from there on whether we are going to go for a trade ship with a Lys or Oldtown bank loan or if we are going to downsize this loan amount a bit.

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A speck of light bobs gently in the cool night breeze, dimly illuminating its environs. A large slab of stone lies in sight, unmarked save for the bouquet of recently picked lavender resting upon a makeshift altar. A pungent scent of incense is carried along by the wind, following the fleck of flame as it flits to and fro.

The flame churns about in circles, steadily increasing in size as its erratic movement betrays its unnatural origin. It continues to dance about until it grows to the size of a child’s fist, then stops abruptly. Slowly, it dips down to the base of the crudely strewn together altar, looking almost to be—perhaps to an outside observer—examining the unmarked tomb.


>A brief flash of light. Bright yellow memories filled with laughter and levity
>A sustained dimming. Weighty memories of regret, blue and somber
>A Violent flickering. Scattered memories of a brutal end, red and vicious
>A gentle pulsing. Hazy gray fog is all that is recollected. A blessing? A curse?
>Something else [Other]
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“I am just making sure the initiate knows what the price will be for betraying us,” you state simply, not shifting your glare from the pallid man’s beady eyes.

“I… see. Well, at any rate, get a move on now, won’t you? The initiation rites are about to begin. Go! I’ll keep watch of the entrance in your place,” the other cultist waves the two of you off and pulls out what looks to be a small sermon book.

“Alright then, let’s get going now,” you yank the knife from the bloated man’s throat and are immediately accosted by his feelings of immense relief. You almost risk slapping him upside the skull to restore his feelings of dread, but you think better of it, not wanting to draw any further attention to yourself.

The two of you travel down the dark, twisting passageway until you arrive upon a stairwell that leads you up to the entrance of an ornate mausoleum. Inside, two rows of pews, intricately carved and varnished, are flanked side by side with ancient, iron slabbed tombs all leading up to what appears to be a marble pulpit complete with lectern.

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As you and your ‘trustworthy servant’ split off to your respective seating arrangements—it would seem the left side is reserved for the initiates while the right for the senior clergy—you take a glance at the cultist currently stationed at the podium. She has a considerably more regal bearing than the rest of her ‘flock’, yet despite this her countenance bears a doleful expression. Indeed, you can even detect from her subtle pangs of what seem to be guilt.

“Beloved brothers and sisters, I want to thank you all for gathering here with me this day.” Her voice has a breathy quality, as though she’s unaccustomed to speaking in a louder register, “I know we’ve faced so many tribulations these past years…” A wave of somber sentiment is felt amongst the robed cultists. “…But we yet remain. Indeed, it brings me no small amount of joy to see that, even in times such as these, fresh faces are seeking to join our family.”

“All rise!” A guttural voice bellows from the back pews. The congregation stands in unison, each member holding up a dagger to their chest.

“Please deliver unto us your blessed offerings,” The priestess asks as she descends down from the pulpit, holding what you now realize is a brutal looking spiked mace.

Two cultists, each carrying a bowl of silver, travel up the aisles to collect the knives from the congregants.

“Sir, I lost my knife in a scuffle. I’m afraid I no longer have it to offer,” says a young sounding voice coming from the initiates’ side.

A low murmur emerges amongst the crowd of fledgling cultists before being silenced by the harsh reprimand of a senior clergyman.

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>Get up on the stage like we are going to read the Rite, then attack/kill the priestess and leave in the ensuing chaos.

Well it’s been fun hijacking a cultist but I think our time here is up. The only thing we have left to do is create as much chaos as possible then gtfo.

Make the best of it. Also she's probably the most competent person in the room who may give us a run for our money; best to cripple her.
Ok hour's up, let's see those dice!
1d100 bo3 as always
Success: 70 Great Success: 90 Catastrophic Failure: all<45

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I really don’t understand how I have come this far, it must be the will of Arceus at this point but you Anon’s are making good progress.

approximately one year ago, there was a solar eclipse and, during that period of darkness, Pokemon appeared upon the Earth. It took only a small period of hysteria before people embraced the Pokemon and, within months, the first Pokemon Tournament was held in Tokyo, Japan. You are Andrew Gwan, a broke 18-year-old living with his mother in New York City. After graduating high school, you decided that your goal in life would be to become a Pokemon trainer and win the 2nd Annual Pokemon Tournament.

With the help of some Japanese Guy larping as Ash Ketchum and your new friend who uses a Golbat, you manage to not only win a tournament with a cash prize of $5000 but 3 Pokeballs and got the chance to face your very first gym leader!

After a tough fight and a Nidoqueen who refused to go down, you managed to beat the Gym Leader and get your first ever gym badge!

Now you are working overtime at your job in the Pokecenter which is currently in the process of getting robbed by the mob.

>311 days until the start of the World Tournament

Previous thread:

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>Back to shopping
Let's go to the stone shop.
After the workout you decide to take a shower to make yourself all neat and clean and put on a new pair of clothes, hopefully, you won’t have to change again.

Once dressed you quickly check in on your Pokemon to see if they are all ok before hopping onto the computer once more.

You are serious about this whole Pokechampion dream and all so a little bit of research on how to obtain that title is important and the first step is to obtain all 8 badges in your region. Baby steps though, you still need to beat the second gym leader after all.

Searching around you find a few routes towards Boston, the location of the second gym. Aeroplanes and Trains would get you there very fast but the magical bus only costs around $26, the offset being that it may take 4+ hours depending on the traffic which may be a nightmare.

A train trip would cost around $131 but you will arrive much quicker at around 3.5 hours, maybe a bit less but of course, more expensive.

The quickest way to arrive in Boston though would be by plane and you would arrive within 1 hour. The cost for that though would be around $200 dollars, the most expensive but also the fastest.

With that, you quickly closed the tab and had a clear thought process, in order to beat the gym leaders you need to get stronger. In order to get stronger, your Pokemon will need to evolve through training, some Pokemon can only evolve through special conditions and one of which is the evolution stones.

Thankfully, you know the location of a store that holds these items and more with the only drawback being price, something you can now afford.

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>>Actually I don’t need stones just yet
>>Write in
I don't think we need to evolve eevee just yet, afterall even without the stones we still have about 5 other evolutions still, rather than that why don't we give a call to that fisherman and see if he is up for some fishing otherwise if he know any good spots for us to fish.
>Take some money out (how much?)
All of it. Just in case.
Rolled 1 (1d2)

1-No shopping trip, straight to the fisherman
2-Withdraw the money and go to the shop

(You can still go to the old man after the shopping trip)

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McSnickers Dickerson has created something that only those from future stations would know about, a Tesla Ball. He has been assigned to recreate the ball of primordial electricity with the express purpose of trying to harvest it. Being on a high security station, nothing station shattering can happen, right?

McSnickers Dickerson
Standard Skills
Social Skills
>Authority: 10
>Fellowship: 50
>Conspiracy: 25

Intellectual Skills
>Technology: 40
>Machines: 10
>Atmospherics: 0
>Chemistry: 0
>Biology: 25

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>Space workshop
We probably need the space to contain the tesla, and build the containment stuff.
>Space workshop
>Space workshop
Something remote like Toxins used to be on Box? Moving Toxins to the Research Outpost on the roid was a good change.
Space Workshop
With a will in my step I made my way over and to a small console next to the worksop. With a few presses of the button the machine started to change, coming up with a graphic I was hoping of getting.

Workshop S1 allocated, welcome Project Director Dickerson.

“Project director, I should probably make sure it does not get to my head.” I laughed while making my way into the workshop.

To one side of the small room was a series of windows, all of which looked out into a sectioned part of the aether known as space. The other, well a series of equipments and tools leveraged towards my use. Sitting there was about four large contains, holding the space suits that I would be using.

So with a smile I walked over and started putting on the most armor I ever had in my life.

As I was slipping it all on, someone wearing a white hardsuit came in with his hood engaged. However I knew right away the person was smiling underneath, “Project Director Dickerson, a pleasure to meet you. Chief Engineer Robertson.” He said while extending his hand.

“Uh, sorry I can’t really shake it.” I mentioned to the fellow while getting the leggings on, “Kinda getting this damn thing on.”
“Ah, you made a good point there.” He said while putting it down, “Well I heard you are looking into a new kind of singularity? Quite the event from my understanding.”

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Well, it turns out that the Legend of Zelda franchise had its 35th anniversary last weekend... don't worry, even Nintendo forgot. Still, it doesn't feel right not to mark the occasion in some small way, so let's go through another 90's gamebook based on a beloved, if occasionally mismanaged, video game character.

Strap yourself in, nerds.

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Magic Arrows
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where did we fuck up
Maybe we should check the rocky path next

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Your enemies are everywhere. They lurk behind the eyes of your teachers. Your friends. Your family. Their only goal is the complete subjugation of your world. They have the power to control anyone, and they are utterly ruthless. The only thing standing in between them and global domination is you, your friends, and a strange power. The power to become any animal you can touch. The power to morph.


Welcome to Animorphs Quest. This is my take on the greatest sci-fi series of the late 90s and early 2000s. You will play as Jen, a 16-year-old girl in suburban America, who is placed with the burden of defending Earth from the Yeerks. You, along with your friends, are the only ones who know of this threat, and the only ones capable of stopping it. Good luck.

Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=animorphs+quest
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AnimorphsQM
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Those trunks can do a lot of things
Be daring. Tigers are stealthy, full of power, and absolutely decked out to hell and back with an array of natural weapons that can tear through flesh like a hot knife through butter.

I was hoping for a jaguar morph but tiger will do

Let's take the risk, it could pay off

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You had to get up pretty early in the morning to pull one over the Russian mob. Sullivan decided 4 AM was just early enough. Not that I was complaining, perched on a west side rooftop struggling with a yawn under my mask. It was in the low thirties, the chill wind propbably cut it down lower, and I was using the heat of my power to keep from freezing my balls off. The sun was a way from rising, the distant city heart a forest of dark buildings on the twilight horizon. Not my ideal Friday morning.

The Russian mob bank was a run down flat house in the inner west side. As I understood it this was one of the places they gathered up the ash they'd then launder through any number of 'legitamite' businesses. Drug money, illegal bets, scams, blood money flowing in from dozens of sources. A tidy sum for anyone brave or stupid enough to try to knock it over. The Russian mob were nobody to fuck with. In terms of crazy they matched the Mexican cartels pound for pound. If this was the start of some kind of Russian-Mexican war, I felt a little sorry for Sullivan and his biker gang being used as pawns in the opening gambit.

I don't think the Russians would care much that he was under duress. They'd cut off his head, same as Baby Girl's and Billy Lonegran's and anyone else involved in the heist, if they caught him.

Headlights sliced down the dark road before winking off, the soft buzz of motorbikes. Four bikes, three in white, one in black, they sidled up down the road silent as hunting cats.

The house they were hitting had the lights on in the top floor, the dull throb of music beating from the closed windows. A big guy kept watch out the front, breathing mist into the cup of his hands, machine gun swinging from a strap over his shoulder. He hadn't noticed the bikers, still some ways down the road. The black bike stopped, Baby Girl getting off, slinking out into the dark. I lost track of her, an ink blot disappearing into the gloom, her black leathers blending into the night.

I watched, waiting. The other bikers did the same, sitting patiently, waiting for the signal.

The sound tugged my ear lobe, a soft hiss. I'd have missed it if it wasn't for my keen senses.

Baby Girl slid down the side of the flop house, climbing down from the roof with her sword drawn. The guard yawned, looking out on the neighborhood street, oblivious to the death crouching above him. The sword was a scorpion's tail, poised to strike.

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I got up and ran the other way.

A gunshot went off into the roof and I skidded to a stop. It sent the other patrons scurrying under their tables, behind chairs, cowering in terror.

"What's this?" he said, "Some boy trying to flee? Give up your riches child, you elites have fed enough on the misery of this city."

"I don't got money Mr Crow," I said, "But if you're looking for food I saw a french fry in the parking lot."

"The Black Claw!" he said, clicking back the hammer of his gun as he stalked toward me, "You'd be careful not to mock me, boy, I am a dangerous man!"

"Don't you need more than one crow to be a murder?" I said.

He didn't like that. The but of his gun whipped around fast. If I'd been trying no way it could have touched me, but the goal was to get Ayesha and Ivy clear. It hit the bridge of my nose with a numbing crunch, cold sweeping through my face. I buckled as blood began to piss out of my nostrils, my eyes squeezed shut on bright silver stars.

"I didn't want to do that," he said, "Now I'll have you wallet."

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"Saving your ass again," I said, the four of us getting on. But we weren't alone, a group of busboys weren't hanging around any longer than they needed to. Who could blame them? No tip was worth risking a bullet.

"Did you follow us here?" Ayesha said, voice tight with outrage.

"Not our biggest problem right now Yesha!" Ivy said as the door closed too slow. I caught a last look of the Black Claw busting out of the kitchen, bird beak mask swivelling left and right before landing on us in the last sliver of the closing door.

I couldn't help myself. I waved, grinning as the door clicked shut.

It was an awkward forty floors down. Ayesha pulled as far from us as she could, right up next to Malcolm, who put his good arm around her in a protective hug.

Ivy pulled out a cigarette. The bus boys turned to look hopeful at the crumpled up packet. Reluctantly she shared them out, and soon us non-smokers were coughing on a thick haze of cigarette smoke.

"You should quit," I said, sniffing. Every sniff stung, I think my nose was broken. "It'll kill you."

"It can get in line," she replied, taking a long drag.

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I've said it before but I need to proof read more before I post.
> we were 'stalking' you, I guess (truth)
Sorry. Just wanted to make sure Malcolm was a good guy. Seems like he is. Promised your dad I would look out for you.
>we were 'stalking' you, I guess (truth)

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Hello! Don't frequent here often, but I'm bored enough to give this a shot.

You, our main character, are turning 17 today. For most people that would be reason enough to celebrate alone, but for you, this is the most important day of your life yet. You see, your parents, in their great wisdom, essentially sold you into identured servitude, a form of slavery, when you were 5. Since then, you've lived and worked for the Simh -family, one of the most prominent merchant families of the town. But all that is past. As fully aged citizen now, you're no longer bound to your parents finances and are just about to breathe air as a free person first time in 12 years. Welcome to the world of Quairn!

But first. Are you a boy or girl?
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Good quest so far. Just keep on walking.
The second day. You catch up with a band of travelling merchants before dawn and they're happy enough to let you travel with them to Tuk. The four of them don't go far enough in their hospitality to offer you a place in their cart. Despite the blisters on your feet giving you trouble, the time flies faster thanks to the idle chatter. You learn little that is useful, but talking to someone for hours after the week you just experienced is refreshing.

>...Anyway. That's how you do it. But tell me, why exactly were you travelling to Tuk? Usually people on these roads go all the way to Inron. Family business, perhaps?

Actually my destination is Greyholm. I intend to join Brothers of Garr, or at least give it a try. They say it is not an easy task.

>From what I have heard, your information is correct. I have great respect for the brothers, but they seem awfully picky on who they aspect into their ranks. How hard can it be to give kind words and soup to the poor? Never been to Greyholm myself. It was supposedly a big town centuries ago, before the Druuk destroyed most of it.


>You haven't heard of them? That's all good, they were hunted to extinction after the Last war. Although some rumours pop up now and then on the more remote merchant routes, I haven't seen any evidence that any of them survived. Half man, half beast. Some say they had canine heads with thousands of teeth, but the one skeleton on display in Royal museum of Inron looked more like a mokey to me. That reminds me, if you ever got a chance to go there yourself, you absolutely must, because...

This is new information to you. Your mental image of Greyholm was some castle on a lonely mountain, but now that image is clearly wrong.

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Be wary. Wait for dayfall with one eye open and with our hand next to any weapon we might have.
Properly spooked, you wait for the others to wake up. After what feels like a small eternity, the merchants emerge from the building.

>Ach, morning, young Ethan. Slept well?

Your experience starts to feel less important, so you don't say anything about it and instead respond in kind. As you set up on the next leg of your journey, you notice that the landscape has changed somewhat. The open fields aren't as commonplace and the copses turn into small forests. Before long you walk in the shadow of the unbroken canopy of trees. Bandits aren't unheard of in these parts, but the merchants are more wary all the same. This fits you, as you ponder that dark thing you saw. What the fuck was it? Maybe it was all inside your head? Fuck, maybe it's real AND inside your head! You start to feel pretty shitty assleep deprivation and fatigue sets in and you're full of beef jerky and nothing else. And the forest. You've been in forest once before when you were very small. You think. Maybe that was another dream. By the Maker, you'd wish you were somewhere else, had a nice, big bowl of broth with some turnips on side and maybe a pretty girl to talk to. Your daydreams come to a halt as one of the merchants notices something and signals to stop. A short way off the road lies a brown mound. You are chosen to inspect it closer. It's a dead animal, but nothing like you've seen before. Big, hairy, with long face like a horse or a mule, but...


Says one of the merchants. Elk? You've only ever seen crude drawings of elks. You didn't know they lived so close to the city of Lint. The carcass looks fresh to your untrained eyes, but you can't determine the cause of death. It wasn't starvation, that's for sure, and you can't find any obvious signs of trauma or sickness. It's like the animal just fell on the roadside.

>Well, it doesn't smell rotten. What say you all? Should we butcher it? Shame to waste all that meat.

There are few objections and soon the animal is dragged to a clear ground and cut open. No sense in trying to harvest all the meat, you don't have enough salt on you for curing and you don't have time to cook it all anyway. The merchant doing the cutting divide it on uneven piles. It's clear he has done this before, but not many times.

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leave the meat...seems fishy

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Welcome back to Tai Lung's journey on the path of redemption, not only for himself but for those around him as well. In our last thread, the group continued to search for clues in the ruined town of Xiqi. At odds with the townsfolk, Tai Lung and his friends camped out at the ruins edges as they searched. With a bit of searching, they uncover a journal and map written in a strange language. Before they can make any progress, the small town finds themselves the target of an another attack. Caught by surprise, the crew team up with both Po and Shifu to fend off raiders. Unfortunately, Renshu is injured in the attack and the group if forced to split up as he is sent away with the evacuation. Staying behind, Tai Lung, Xin Lan, Ming and the recently rescued third son of the Emperor Hien engage in a series of hit and run attack to hold the incoming army back to buy some more time. Currently, the group find themselves holed up in a cave waiting for things to calm down.

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They can't run us out, not while they need us. We also have Shifu and our prior good reputation to help soften the blow but the captain needs to hear from us what we found and more importantly who we are.

Best heard from us, and best to be unapologetic about keeping our name hidden. Guilt implies we did something wrong.
Hmmm...before Renshu helps on the operation, after we heal him, I feel we should remind him not to let his anger get the best of him when he's out there. He might slip up dangerously with how furious he is...
I feel that his anger is understandable, justified even, in what he felt on seeing Xin. But a warning never hurt anyone.
>a warning never hurt anyone.
Unless it's in the form of a prophecy...right?
Depends on the prophecy. The self fulfilling sort hurts people, but otherwise it's mostly fine.

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You are Uzumaki Naori, a shinobi of the Village Hidden in the Rain, and this is already shaping up to be a difficult day. The war for the future of your world is going into its second day, and most of the fighting seems to be on three fronts. First, an army of clones tens of thousands strong is still locked in battle with several divisions of shinobi, or rather what remains of them, along the coast of the Land of Frost – a medium-sized nation that lies between the great nations of the Land of Fire and the Land of Lightning.

To the east, just four reanimated shinobi are facing the ten thousand or so shinobi serving under Gaara, the current Kazekage: among those reanimates are the Third Raikage, the Second Tsuchikage ‘A’, the Second Tsuchikage Mū, the Second Mizukage Hōzuki Gengetsu, and the Fourth Kazekage. The latter of these was Gaara’s father, who to the best of your knowledge was killed some time three years ago by Orochimaru. Each of these fighters would be dangerous on their own, and with Terumi Mei-han deployed to protect the Daimyō they equal the number of Kages you have available to fight them.

And while you have some faith in those four Kages, the ones attacking you now are not only legendary, but effectively immortal. You’ve sent a shadow clone along with the bulk of your small response unit to that battlefield to assist Gaara, tilting the odds back in your favor a bit.

But to the west is something even more pressing.

The jinchūriki Uzumaki Naruto (nine-tails), Killer B (eight-tails), and Nii Yugitō-han (two-tails) are all on their way north towards where you assume your enemy is conducting their war efforts. They’re about to be intercepted by Uchiha Itachi-han and Nagato-han, both former associates of yours from Akatsuki – and both are likely to be trouble.

So that’s where you go, using hiraishin as your guide – and taking Uchiha Sasuke along with you. Which should become interesting.

In an instant you step between Itachi-han and Naruto, instantly understanding that the best choice would be to use Kongō Fūsa to block the incoming shuriken. They’re all burning black, and transfer some of the Amaterasu burning on them to your golden chain. Better that than Naruto however, since when you dispel the chain the fire itself dissipates as well.

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One of his eyes has been replaced by a sharingan, though the other is still a rinnegan despite the fact that you now know those were never actually his own. That detail seems strange to you as well, though it does also confirm a few things. First, it confirms that Obito did in fact reanimate Nagato for the purpose of gaining access to one of his rinnegan. Second, it confirms that what happened here is likely that Nagato was made to use King Enma to heal himself.

The good news is that if you defeat Nagato and send him back to the afterlife that should lead to Obito losing his rinnegan. The bad news is that Nagato will be much more capable of fighting against you even despite having lost one of his rinnegan – making it hard to tell in the abstract whether you stand at an advantage against him or not. Mostly what caused you difficulty last time was the fact that he had multiple bodies that could surround and overwhelm you. But at the same time you figure that may have made it easier too since you could count on each body to only use one ability.

“Is Konan...”

“Sensei is fine,” you insist calmly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help her – Obito had me under a form of Tsukuyomi at the time.”

“I’m sure she was very understanding about that,” Nagato-han reassures you.

Meanwhile, Itachi-han has been waiting rather politely to speak his own mind.

“Sasuke… you’re here,” he muses. “How much do you know?”

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>>Sasuke, I’ll leave Itachi-han to you. I’ll take the lead against Nagato-han.
>>Yugitō-han, B-han, we’re going to rely on you to cover us against Nagato-han’s summons.
>>Sasuke, I’ll leave Itachi-han to you. I’ll take the lead against Nagato-han.
Let's try and open up Nagato to a power hit from Naruto.
>>Sasuke, I’ll leave Itachi-han to you. I’ll take the lead against Nagato-han.

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A thread for the discussion of rulesets and GM tips for builders.

>What is a Builder?
Builders are a type of homebrewed tabletop game where players take on the role of cultures rather than single individual. These games involve a blend of collaborative world building and PvP activity. The easiest way to think of a builder is as a tabletop Civilization game, with more room for freedom and experimentation and less focus on strict adherence to real-world historical development that would be difficult to marry with fantastic settings.

>Useful Map tools

>Example Rulesets
Some rulesets for various builders I have played in over the years.
https://pastebin.com/3tvrmBpL (embed)
https://pastebin.com/LURnekuf (embed)

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ah yeah here is ye old guide from ages ago, since someone posted bobski's rule set

Cool shame the 8 chan links are dead
>15 IPs
there's enough people here for two whole games wtf
yeah well that's to be expected since 8 chank is fucked
assume half are phone posters we have about 7 people really. Also that relies on one of us having the time, balls, and skill to run a game

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This is not your average quest. You do not collectively control a single character; rather, you are each a part in the story of the castle's defense. You can be whomever you wish, from the hold's castellan to a mad alchemist to a peasant levy with a spear, a helmet, a gambeson, and a desire to live. Last two digits of your post are your roll.


The castle of Bregonne has been under siege for nearly a week now. Apparently, the enemy commander seeks a hasty victory, since their forces have assembled a number of siege engines and mustered themselves at the gates at the northern and southern ends of the castle. Most of the burghers and even some guildsmen and peasants have taken up arms and joined the castellan's retinue in defense of the wall, but you're still heavily outnumbered. A trio of siege towers covered in wet hide are being towed towards the east wall, and two large covered battering rams, one painted red and one yellow, are slowly but surely being wheeled towards the northern and southern gates respectively. All of the siege engines are accompanied by swarms of enemy soldiers, but the yellow ram is also notably accompanied by a regiment of mounted cataphracts.

South Gate Integrity: 100%
North Gate Integrity: 100%
Archers: 220
Pikemen: 400
Militia: 180
Men-at-arms: 55
Knights: 25
Castellan: Alive
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Lacking things to pour in the incoming soldiers, I hurriedly try to prepare more substances.

If none are available, I start chucking the pots themselves down

Your men, having served with you time and time again in crush of battle, entrust you with their lives as you move to create a shieldwall to block the enemy from disembarking the leftmost siege tower. As a professional soldier, you're able to quickly and efficiently create a stalwart point defense, and as the enemy infantrymen run across the gangplank, long-hafted battleaxes at the ready, they're met with an unmoving line of kite shields and thrusting spears. An enemy infantryman embeds his axe in your shield, leaving him hapless as you drive your spear into his chest. The defense goes well so far.


A wordless glance from the man is enough to confirm that he accepts the challenge. He leaps down from the gangplank, bludgeoning your men left and right as he paces towards you. He's quickly given a wide berth, and faces you in a circle both his and your men allow for your duel. You make the first move, and its rather successful - a quick jab at his waist, aimed at the gap between his maille chausses and his lamellar cuirass lands perfectly, evidenced by the foe stumbling back and coloring your rapier a sanguine red. A good start, but he doesn't seem finished yet.


Your shouted orders are lost in the screams of the wounded and the clash of steel on steel. Being the only captain to hold against the siege tower on the right, you can only wonder if you'll be able to keep your men from wavering.

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This time, you're a bit more discerning in what you take as a throwing implement, having learned well that kitchen cutlery doesn't finish the job too well. A quick ransack of the town leaves your arms overflowing the sharpest, best-flying pointy knickknacks you can get in the castle. You figure this would even be able to pierce the armor of the cataphracts at a close range, though you doubt it'll be much better from the ramparts.


It seems there isn't much left to dump, and you sorely lack the time to boil anything more. Out of ideas, you start hurling the pots themselves - it's not quite effectual, but the heavier cast iron cauldrons certainly make a smashing display when they hit an unprotected head.

South Gate Integrity: 100%
North Gate Integrity: 100%
Archers: 186 (24 wounded)
Pikemen: 377 (17 wounded)
Militia: 157 (9 wounded)

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In a blind panic, I start grabbing whatever is available. Chunks of armor and weapons from dead or unconscious ally soldiers on the walls, random crates or objects.

As fun as dumping boiling things on people was, if those attackers actually get in then they're probably not going to treat me so kindly for torching their ranks!
Scargot continues his assault, a decapitation strike should demoralize the enemy rabble!

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