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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!

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Rolled 65 (1d100)

Previous session: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2021/4621024/
Discussion channel: https://client01.chat.mibbit.com/?channel=%23RisingSons&server=irc.rizon.net

+Date: 044.376.M41+
+Location: Battle Barge Aspera Dominus, Brohmidae System, Subsector Mortis, Sector Deus

The Styrian Defence Fleet lies in ruins around Brohmidae, leaving trails of burning debris in their wake as they drift through the void. Hails of celebration and commendation circulate around the Imperial vox network as the combined fleet of the Ghosts of Retribution and Imperial Navy approach the beleagured world of Brohmidae.

The industrial world of Brohmidae was left helpless in the wake of the Imperial retreat from Subsector Mortis over 200 years ago, and the renegade Styrian Triarchy took control with ease using their orbital supremacy to force the planet's complience. Brohmidae and its ruler, the Mechano-Lord Eckar Santron, have been vassals of the Styrian Triarchy ever since, their grinding manufactorums and mines producing materiel for the Styrian Triarchy in return for 'protection' from the Styrian Fleet - little more than a thinly veiled threat in Brohmidae's orbit to ensure their compliance.

But now the Imperium has returned to Subsector Mortis, spearheaded by the efforts of the Ghosts of Retribution chapter of the Adeptus Astartes. After years spent rallying Imperial Forces and replacing incompetent and corrupt Imperial leadership in Sector Deus, the Chapter Master of the Ghosts of Retribution has launched a new Crusade with the intention of reclaiming Subsector Mortis for the Imperium. The Imperial Navy, Imperial Guard, Adepta Sororitas and even the Adeptus Mechanicus have rallied behind the Ghosts of Retribution, and the Chapter Master leads a combined force to put the Styrian Triarchy down for good.

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>Do you go to visit?
>If so, who you take with you?
A couple of revenants with sniper rifles around the complex would be a start, whom else do we have available aside from our standard boys and the council?
With respect to Lord Santron I would prefer to meet in a neutral location. Or alternatively, if he could ensure his palace is without any guards or troops when we visit. Make sure to scan extensively to make sure.

Shadow Guard, Brethorius might want to come with us? Council is Drakkon Ursus, Adm. Hefin, and Canoness Engel.

I'd suggest bringing Engel since she represents the imperial faith and Santron's response to that might be telling.
do we have some sort of emergency get-back teleportation stuff?
If so, i suggest bring it with us, and only a select few accompany us, no need to put all eggs in the basket
Sounds good.
Aspera Dominus has a teleportarium and we can take a teleport homer with us for sure.

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Your name is Carl, you decide to take a day off. Its a Saturday morning are your feeling hungry. What do you do?

(if anyone's wondering, I abandoned the other thread to try something new-ish)
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>Continue being Carl
>Continue being Carl
Can I get a link to the other thread?
It has the link to another thread as well, so you should be up to date.
>Be Katia
>Smell bacon
>Wake up
>be carl

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The year is 1984. The Satanist past time of Dungeons and Dragons roleplaying has lead to the predictable collapse of civilization. Live action roleplayers, in service of Lucifer, have opened gates into the netherworld, unleashing nightmarish horrors upon the whole world. Mankind's technology and weaponry faltered in the face of our own imaginations. The gold scaled Dragon burnt our fleets to ash, whole battalions of men were turned into revenant thralls by a word and gesture from an undying sorcerer, and the eyes of the Beholder are watching us even now, from a starless space. As our chain-of-command crumbled from the infiltration of the Mind-flayers, so too did our societies.

The world has been carved up. The Dragon rules on the west coast, the lich king on the east, the Mind-flayers seem to have disappeared. Between are roving hordes of goblins and orcs and terrible beasts, maneaters all. Billions are dead. The rest are undead or enslaved. The few who survive have been forced to go into hiding, pilfering the ruins of the very cities and towns they once ruled. You are one them.

Remember this above all: the evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones (meaning dice).

Let's begin.

>We'll start with some character creation
>Your stats are the following: STR: 12 INT: 13 WIS: 8 DEX: 16 CON: 8 CHA: 16
>You are eligible for the following classes (choose one):
>Gunship Pilot
>Intelligence Field Agent
>Escaped Mind-flayer Victim

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>Guerilla: You were living off-grid in the swamps of Louisiana, coming to terms with your demons, when real ones suddenly showed up and took over the nearby town where you go to resupply.
>inb4 it turns out we're also a Larper
>Counter-Intelligence: You have managed to infiltrate a coven of live-action roleplayers serving the one they call the Lich King. Your task is to supply information to your handler, currently based off a submarine in the Atlantic.
You've managed to escape with your life, but what you've seen has horrified you to your very core. It's been six months since your discharge from Military Intelligence. You've been living out in a small cabin your grandpappy built with his own two hands out here in the Louisiana swamps. It's late springtime and the only thing more maddening than the heat are the mosquitoes--or so it seemed at fist. Two days ago, you were making your usual visit at Eunice, a small town a few miles from the cabin, to catch up on the latest and resupply.

You still can't believe what you saw there. The town has been taken over by devil-creatures, rat-faced abominations that walk on two feet like men, covered in fur, squeaking to each other in some facsimile of human speech. They must have raided the local police station. They were armed to the teeth, shotguns and rifles and six-shooters. One of them had the sheriff's badge pinned to his chest. He was squeaking out orders to the other ones, but he wasn't the leader, far as you can tell. Not the real one anyway, there's something much smarter than them and more evil lurking about.

They've got all the townsfolk on lockdown, but they haven't hurt them yet. They've got the menfolk building watchtowers and a perimeter wall. A prison. The womenfolk, they don't seem to touch except once in a while, when one will be dragged out, kicking and screaming, shoved in a police van and taken away to the old Dubois manor. Sometimes they take kids. You don't suppose they return. They've got dogs too, bloodhounds with eyes like hellfire, patrolling around in the woods. It was how you almost got caught snooping, but you're safe now. You went through the river northeast and they lost your scent.

On the radio, the President's telling everybody to surrender, that resistance will only make things worse. That's a woman President for you. Other stations are either dead or filled with weird unintelligible chatter that hurts your ears or makes you sleepy if you listen to it too long.

They won't ever find you here, but you're low on supplies and anyhow there's nothing here for you but your demons. Something's gotta be done. You've got some weapons: an old bolt-action rifle you use for hunting, your old service pistol, a machete. You've got a few boxes of ammo and some cam gear. And, of course, you've got your training. Ten years in various jungles around the world, another fifteen years before that growing up in the swamps. They'll never catch you out here if you don't wanna get caught. You can strike and disappear before they can ever catch a whiff. The question is, where do you start?

>Kidnap one of the rat-demons for interrogation
>Rescue one of the villagers
>Take out the rat-demon with the badge
>Kidnap one of the rat-demons for interrogation
Time for some waterboarding.
>Kidnap one of the rat-demons for interrogation

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Thread Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Elf%20Maiden%20Quest

The year is 6722 by Alfheim reckoning, and today marks the 62nd day since you left Alfheim and the Gymnasium. Two month and just as many days have passed since your Centum Viginti, which marked the end to your years of learning and the beginning of your Travail. Every Child of Yggdrasil must venture into the wider world when they reach their twelfth decade, and bring back something of value to their Elfhome. Some leave to seek new art and poetry, others pursue knowledge of how Humes and Stouts wage war, and others simply seek giant piles of money.

For your Travail, you chose a purpose somewhat grander in scope. Some would claim you seek to grasp something beyond your reach. Others would applaud your ambition. Those who know you well enough would rub their temples in a vain attempt to quell their budding migraine, secure in and thoroughly exasperated with the knowledge that you are motivated at least in part by a desire to learn what the menfolk of Hume and Stout can offer to a willing and eager young woman.

The assumption there is not a lie, but is also not the sole purpose of your Travail.

Your ambitions are simply every bit as large as your libido.

Before you return to Alfheim, should it take you ten years or ten decades, you will see the treaties that once stood between Hume, Stout, and Child of Yggdrasil renewed. The heirs to the Dragon Kings and the Forge Fathers shall be made to remember their ancestral oaths, and the three peoples who live in the Light of the Sun Above shall stand united once more. The old trade routes shall be renewed, and the wall of blades and fire against the Blight that has been fractured by time shall be rebuilt stronger and sturdier. Hume and Stout will once more visit the Elfhomes as they did in ages past, the superstitious fears of child-faced witches and warlocks shall be banished.

If it takes a bit of bedroom diplomacy to get that done, you certainly have the training for it. What's more, such dealings would simply be repeating the course of history as it had gone thousands of years ago. In the Age of the Dragon, peace between Elf and Hume was won after centuries of bloodshed not by the might of the Rod, the Ring, and the Ranger, but by the kiss of the first Daughter of Irminsul. Helen Flame-Kissed earned the title of Dragon Queller not by striking down the man who sat upon the Throne of the Fire Dragon, but by taming him with the pleasures her body could offer him.

She is an inspiration to all Daughters of Irminsul, and one whose deeds you hope to mimic even in the smallest way. You met her not a month ago amidst the ruins of the Dragonkeep and the flower fields that carry in their roots the memories of a half-forgotten age. She had sprouted into a small but splendid tree, and in her gnarled branch-hands she held her still beating heart, holding back the Blight within it for two thousand years.
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This would not be the first time that you demonstrated to Humes the ultimate form of seduction, the strongest technique that was passed down from the hands of Helen Flame-Kissed herself unto her first apprentice. An unbroken line of Sacred Prostitutes descending from the First Daughter to yourself that stretches back to the Age of the Dragon, and possibly beyond even that. Properly executed, it can captivate the hearts of lonely men who witness it without a single drop of mana flowing through your spirit veins, and warm even the most cold hearted to your presence. The very crystallization of lust and beauty, carved into a single gesture designed to ensnare the hearts of men.

Only once before in your life have you performed this technique whilst holding mana in your heart.

Eight years ago, Begierde advised you to use it whilst holding mana on a certain curmudgeonly Childe - then called Second of Fifteen - as an early present for his Centum Viginti. It nearly stopped his heart and shattered his mind, but the moment he recovered from the shock of bearing witness to the abyss that was your boundless lust, he pinned you down beneath him and took you with a vigor comparable to that of the Divine Beast. The raw, sexual energy within that kiss gave him all the stamina he needed to fuck your every hole full of his sweet and sticky maple-syrupy like essence over the course of forty days and forty nights, but it somehow felt unsatisfying in the end.

Even though he admitted that he enjoyed it... it felt like cheating, using that power to get the dickings from his massive cock that you wanted out of him. Which according to Begierde, was entirely the point. Shortcuts are not the way to a truly satisfying lay, true pleasure cannot be found through charm magic alone. Which is why you don't use that technique with mana, for it's far more satisfying to see men fall on their knees from the power of your appeal alone.

Skafos became like the Divine Beast because he could comprehend the abyss that you showed him.

Here... either Azar will be overwhelmed entirely, or he will get all of his lust for you out of his system by being driven to take you until he drops. You wonder which it will be...

"Chuu~! <3"

Azar's eyes go wide. His pupils dilate and he clutches at his chest as the mana you held within your heart shows him the gulf that stands between to you. That your beauty is not the summit of the mountain, but the terror of the dawn, and the infinite possibilities of the new day that follows in its wake. A smile cracks upon his face as his body tenses and his back arches.

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"I know not what you did, Childe Lagneia, but your fate shall mirror his," Robert growls, furious that he might have just allowed his lord to die in front of him. You're not sure if you want to fight him on this or if you want to try and help the foolish young man who thought he could stare into an abyss built up over a hundred years without consequence. The gap was clearly too much for him. Mana is memory, and the weight of every single sexual experience you have ever had throughout your hundred years of life crushed his heart beneath a single graceful gesture. "Check his pulse. If he has died because of this foolishness, then I will have your head for it. And don't think I will give you to the men before your execution. Most women would see that as a punishment even worse than the headsman, but you would simply enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

"Probably..." Out of courtesy to the most noble hearted man at this watchtower, you do not melt his blade and demonstrate that there is little he can do to hold you. You press your fingers against the veins in Baron Şoimul's neck, and sigh when you find no signs of life. "That many lustful men having their way with me would certainly make for a fun evening. You certain I am not entitled to one last request?"

"He is dead then..." Robert growls, pressing his sword hard enough against the side of your neck to draw blood. "I trust you understand the consequences."
>Tell him that he should understand the consequences for killing a Child of Yggdrasil. If he does, then you will leave. You will not help cons and brigands.
>Melt his sword away and show him that he has no real power over you. Then take your leave. You will not help cons and brigands.
>Try to persuade Robert that this accident was of Azar's own doing. (Roll 2d100, keep high, add 20)
>Attempt to restart Azar's heart by manipulating the iron in his blood. It will cost him a few years of his life, but he will be alive again. (Roll 2d100, keep high, add 20)
>Persuade Robert to have the men gather as much gold as he can, because the spell array that will be able to raise him will need gold, and some of Dawn's honey. (Roll 2d100, keep high, add 20)
>Accept the consequences of having killed a nobleman and await the judgement of a Daedalian noble's court.
>Inform Robert of the two methods to revive his lord and ask him to choose which the lord would prefer.
>>Attempt to restart Azar's heart by manipulating the iron in his blood. It will cost him a few years of his life, but he will be alive again. (Roll 2d100, keep high, add 20)
>Ask Robert if he would rather lose a staggering amount of gold for a spell array or cut the Baron’s natural life shorter than it would normally be. You know of two ways to bring him back, and those are the consequences.
Fob it off on poor Robert.

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You, Tsukasa Sachi, and Hinata Takuma are childhood friends. For years, Hinata always wanted a girlfriend. Despite having attractive facial features, Hinata was ignored by all women, due to having a slender body and a small height. After class, Hinata asked you to meet in the park. Your friend looks quite nervous, and remains silent for a long time, before speaking.

Hinata: “Tsukasa... I think I want to transition into a girl... This would solve all of my problems.”

How do you feel about it?
>Support: “You are my friend, and I will always support all of your choices.”
>Surprised: “I didn't expect to hear this... I have to think about it.”
>Denial: “I'm sorry, but I don't believe this... We can find another way to solve your problems.”
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wahhhhh w-wahhhhh ;-;
There are no hobos in the park. You can vote again.

Is anyone against this?
I object to the usage of the pronoun "her" but otherwise, proceed.
if we're a dude

if we're a woman
>dude what if we switched identities you be me and I be you.
>Denial: “I'm sorry, but I don't believe this... We can find another way to solve your problems.”
I understand his thinking, but that's outta desperation. He has a long life ahead and becoming a feminine faggot isn't the solution he think it is.

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Returning home with a cart full of wood, you caught sight of a group of children playing tag at the edge of the abyss. Being a responsible (young) adult, you go there tell them to leave the edge of the abyss. However, you forgot to secure your cart before coming to the rescue of the children, and it slid towards you, knocking you down. The way into the abyss was a slope, and you ended up rolling all the way down. You still tried to grab at the edge of the abyss, the children even tried to pull you up, but you ran out of strength and fell.
You weren't expecting to wake up again, but you do. The way you feel, every bone in your body must be broken.
You see a red humanoid creature nearby, about the size of a child. It has horns and a little pointy tail.
"Ah! So you're not dead. Good, good!", says the creature.
"I'm Pyrog, the demons. I need souls, and you need healing. I can bestow upon you the power of the nine hells if you so much as give me your allegiance."
"I won't forfeit my soul to demons.", you say.
"It is okay, I don't want your stinking soul. I want soulS! Plural! And you look like the kind of guy who can get souls for me. What do you think?"
"Do I really have an option?"
"Of course! You can die here alone in the abyss."
"That's unacceptable. Very well, give me power."
The demon cackles. It then puts his hand on your left forearm and draw a symbol with his own blood.
He then grabs your waterskin.
"Touch it."
You touch the waterskin.
"It became a healing potion. Now drink it."

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>> Kill the rat people for souls
Although you are somewhat conflicted about killing these rat people, you ponder that if you have to kill someone to survive it better be monsters than people.

You stab the elderly rat man straight through the eye, making a quick kill. The other rat people run away terrorized. You check what they left behind and find nothing useful - except for a single gold coin. Inspecting the coin you notice it has an unusual mint, a leaf instead of the usual crown. You don't recall ever seeing this mint before. Perhaps it belonged to the dragon, and to some forestfolk before him.

The little imp materializes in front of you.

"Excellent! Now you are covered until next Sunday."

"Sunday? But today is Tuesday. Why not till next Tuesday?"

"We demons have to pay in souls for the privilege of existing and granting mortals power. Every Sunday we become weaker if we don't pay souls to the Devourer. If we end up with no souls at all, the Devourer eats us. So if you don't get me souls, I stop wasting my time and terminate you."

"Man, what a drag. I still need to get out of this abyss. I will take one ear from this rat guy."

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>Traverse the tunnels hunting rat people

"You think a dragon would be bribed by one coin?"

"You're right, I better clean up the place from the rats to get a ride out of here."

You descend into the cave and rush around looking for the ratfolk.

You run into some but they got some ground on you.

"Point the dagger at them! Blast them with magic!", says Pyrog.

You do as suggested.

"Die!", you say, and a blast of magical energy crackles towards your foe, obliterating it.

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>Leave me near a human town

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You are David Ngoy, and as of 20 minutes ago, you are in charge of this small village and a band of guerillas. As a new warlord, you are near the bottom of the totem pole, expected to take control of the area, extract resources, and kick them back up the chain to your nominal superiors. Now, seeing as it is:

[]1963: The Congo is in a period of civil war and both the US and the USSR are flooding it with guns and mercenaries, while the Belgians prop up their mining puppet in Katanga.

[]1996: The Congo war has begun, but already most of the country has collapsed. UN intervention is unlikely, and foreign actors are working on carving up the Congo.

[]2037: Global climate change has hit underdeveloped Africa much harder than the wealthy West. With the US increasingly focused on the Second Cold War with China, Africa is again the playground of the superpowers. Almost all of sub-saharan Africa is either dominated by megacorps or a free-for-all.
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Hey hey people, meme quest here
You can't really attract workers in this state.
>Try to get an NGO in here. Maybe foreign aid will help?
>Train your troops

What are they gonna do, ask to be paid?

Literally reading this quest in Sseth's voice right now. Mfw it oddly fits his cadence....
>[]Train your troops
>[]Try to get an NGO in here. Maybe foreign aid will help
Is that you Seth?

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The year is 1866.
You are Hokkyokusei Danketsu, and you are about to lead a squad of shinigami into the Rukongai for what is supposed to be a routine patrol. Despite this, you have a sneaking suspicion this could be anything but, considering the strange size of your team, its composition, and the fact that as a 20th Seat, prodigy or no, you shouldn’t be anywhere near leading your own squad yet.
However, you knew that Hirako-taicho wasn’t exactly an orthodox man, and so you were also sure that he had a reason for every strange decision he was making. You’d come to the conclusion that the whole setup was to test your leadership skills, and so considering that, you…
>Gather up your team, deciding to do things by the book
>Play it by ear, feeling that sticking to rigid tactics and orders would only harm you when something strange occurred
>Fight unorthodoxy with unorthodoxy, and do things completely your way
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>Get to know Anamatsu, considering she seems quite friendly
>Keep quiet to ensure everyone keeps focused
Try to keep a clear head and boost spirit detection
>Keep quiet to ensure everyone keeps focused
>Keep quiet to ensure everyone keeps focused

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...You awaken from the most recent of slumberings, ensconced in a womb of gold, shielded from the cold-hot of the Vast Black, and deaf from the whispers from the Outside, of the tapeworm Gods and the gnawed Damned alike. You were late, hidden under rumble as the fury of the Dawn and Autumn peoples alike passed over you, and you were nourished and kept to date. The Mind urged you to hurry in it's dying gasps, as it was rendered into a sarcophagi and to merge with the God-Blinder. The shining hull crumbles under threads of light, and the attackers pour into the pit. You must escape with haste. Now, what are you?

>TRUEBORN: A child birthed purely from the artifice, you are a pendulously pallid, lurid horror to haze upon by the frail minds of Men. Your graftings were flawless, for the position you were entombed in, and the foundations of Creation never seemed more clear to you.
>VASSAL: You are not Him, the First, the Black, you are but a facsimile of that glory, but greatness runs through your every joint. Hell is your heart, and you soar to meet the Marked upon the sky.
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I was also a bit confused about the setting initially, but I'm pretty sure this takes place during the final battle.

Have you read Bakker's other works? Neuropath or Discipline of the Dog?

I guess I'll support >>5556699

Hopefully some other anons show interest in this, because I won't have the time after this weekend.
At first, I thought of ditching this quest and writing Holy Swarm Quest, about the pre-Arkfall Inchoroi and their genocides but I realized space quests are weeds that don't need someone watering them even more. Honestly, I am shit at remembering details and the intricate culture of nations would probably leave my brain out the other ear.
Yes, this is the Final Ordeal. Read the OP, we were awoken from hypersleep when Kellhus toppled the Canted Horn (threads of light, the laser spear). We were at the depths hence passing the Inverse Fire on the way outside. The determination part was based on how the Inchoroi used to hold Fire gazing parties to desensitize themselves to atrocities during their war with the Nonmen.
I wrote this as a Consult POV, there was the choice to be Inchoroi or a Wracu at the beginning. Was this Serwa singing to Kelmomas? I don't know how an Inchoroi could see this but since Golgotterath is a giant Topos acausal shit might happen (alongside the thing about how all souls are packed in the same space, hence why Calling and Compulsion Cants works) like when Proyas saw his younger self and tried to warn him before being dragged into super-hell.
I didn't read the other works at all
I have read all of the Prince Of Nothing Novels, all of the Second Apocalypse Novels including the glossary of the Unholy Consult (this is a fountain of secret world lore), and all the same setting short stories such as The Carathayan and Knife Of Many Hands. I haven't read anything else by Bakker.

Something I discovered is that Bakker is influenced by speech-act theory in philosophy (perlocutionary, locutionary, illocutionary act). It is a distinction between declarative and performative utterances and meanings.

Here is an example of it from wikipedia: say you are in a restaurant, and you ask: Is there any salt?
Locutionary: What you exactly said, a question about existence / presence of salt
Illocutionary: Your intended meaning, a request ie please can you pass me the salt?
Perlocutionary: What actually occurs as a result, eg, you are given the salt, you are ignored because no-one hears you in the noisy restaurant, Kellhus being turned into a pillar of salt (kek)

If you read the descriptions of sorcery throughout the series, this philosophical theory corresponds to Bakker's description of sorcerous utterances having multiple meanings intentions and outcomes that deviate from the effect. For instance, Bakker describes an old term for sorceror as Insinger (Inward Singer) this is akin to the etymology of illocution ("in-speech"). This linguistic philosophy is also a very interesting way of understanding the conveyance of meaning in the world, any world - not just fantasy ones.


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Serwa sings the incest song when she is being tortured by the Nonmen when they are all captured beneath the Mountain in Ishterebinth, Moenghus is being tortured, Sorweel is wearing the VR helmet doing his underground Charon thing lol.

Not sure how she learnt the Nonmen song (maybe Kellhus taught her it to corrupt Moenghus? he is so devious kek) but that song is essentially how they are able to escape. Chapter 12 of the Great Ordeal.

Also Ishterebinth, looks a lot like Ishtar + Terebinth (tree mentioned a lot in Ancient Greek apparently). See, Jesustinian Aristotluddha would be a great Bakker character.

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You are Uilleam Campbell, warrior, son, husband, (adoptive) father. On a mission to investigate the disruptions to the north of the Althimuran Empire you have found depravity beyond description. Towns and villages ravaged within the sight of the walls of the northern capitol, an uncaring and distracted populace, and a Duke who seems to not have an iota of concern for the people he is pledged to protect. Taking it upon yourself to end this state of affairs within your Imperial Office as Captain-General of The Beholder Order, you find yourself in great peril at the hands and influence of one of the Invaders whose insidious influence you have been tracking and attempting to curtail...

Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=IlluminatiQM
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Rolled 98, 95, 58 = 251 (3d100)

I don't like 58's odds of survival.

Good on the rest of us.
It's a roll-under system.
its the best we got

Oh. If that's true, then uhhh >>5556530 Sorry Alys.

Because only we got such wild swings as 6 from best but also 2 from best.

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You are a man in your early 30s, currently between jobs as you sit in your bathroom pinching off the brick that was 12 hot pockets a couple days ago. But as you finish and wipe the sweat from your brow, you realize you're out of toilet paper.
What do you do?
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I always have a poop spoon handy
Man, haven't thought about these early 2000s John K webtoons in decades.
Sorry guys, health has been pretty lousy today.
You reach for the card and open it, a Garfield pop out folding out of the interior. Below it, a phoned in joke message, and below that, a bunch of hastily scrawled letters all squished to fit.
Dave always had a bad habit of writing too big. On the bright side, parties at Dave's place usually meant gambling, and another chance to clean him out.
>P.S. U OWE ME $$$
Oh, right, you promised him half of the cash you won off him if he got you new briefs.
You're realizing pretty quick that you aren't wearing any briefs; just the gown. Of course, because of your commando fire fighting exploits, you were left totally exposed, and were now becoming intimately aware that your ass had begun to leak while you were out.
Rather than leave skid marks on the bed, (and finding out the 'call nurse' button was, in fact, not working) you drag your filthy ass up to your feet, and begin wiping your crack with the curtain.
You recognize this crotchety voice, though a bit haggard, it's the old man you attempted to rescue! It seems he got out, due in no small part to your help. What luck he'd be in the same room.

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Damn what are the odds you not only get dubs twice, but the same dubs? Checked.
"Sorry, had to wipe my ass. Hey, you were that guy I tried to save right?"

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You are Noel Tiberius di Hazaran, a warrior-queen with the blood of monsters coursing through your veins, and you are currently locked into a long-running battle against invaders from a far-off continent.

These are what your companions have recently taken to calling the “witching hours” - when silver-eyed slayers move like fleeting shadows under the cover of night to sow the seeds of havoc among the men who by all rights shouldn’t even be here. The last day of battle saw some losses among your Hazari forces, but in exchange key territorial gains have created an endgame scenario for the defenders.

The gap between your fortifications and the artillery positions of Tarsus to the west is now closed by two fortified hilltops on which field guns and mortars have been positioned, to cover the whole valley floor in overlapping fields of fire. Successive nights of bombardment and covert sabotage missions have taken a toll on the enemy’s armored forces and their remaining supplies are dwindling. Resupply is all but impossible without a new offensive by the enemy, and movement along this stretch of the border is no longer free.

What you do in these “witching hours” has the potential to break the enemy’s offensive in Hazaran once and for all, opening the way to push their forces all the way back to the north coast of Sakia where they first landed.

“Helen,” you muse, approaching your long-time comrade for advice as you have countless times in the years since your former patrons in the “Organization” first betrayed you all. “What do you think we should do tonight?”

After thinking about it for a moment, she answers. “What do you want to achieve?”

“I want these people to go home,” you frown. “To leave our island and mind their own damn business instead of experimenting on our people.”

“Then despite the fact that you must already know this,” she replies, “I’ll remind you that sometimes people fight based on anger rather than sense.”

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Rolled 7 (1d10)

And by this I meant 3d10 best of three.

Not sure what happened there.
Rolled 9, 3, 1 = 13 (3d10)

Rolled 2, 2, 1 = 5 (3d10)

Rolled 4, 10, 10 = 24 (3d10)


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You are Uzumaki Shiki, and you’re currently locked in battle with a troublesome opponent. Together with Hanabi-sensei, the jōnin directly responsible for you and your teammates since you all graduated about a year and a half ago, you’ve been challenged by a group of would-be train robbers while on an escort mission. After taking down a robber who was about to make off with some kind of artifact carried by the researchers you’re escorting, the apparent boss of the thugs turned up wearing chakra armor. He’s proven to be pretty well-defended against Hanabi-sensei’s style of taijutsu, and unlike some in Yukigakure it seems he’s well aware of many of the armor’s limitations.

But that being said, you’ve had a chance to test him out and you think there’s a simple strategy that will work to finally end this fight in your favor. And to do that, you’re going to want to become an ‘anvil’.


That’s all you need to say, the appearance of your tenrō fūsa should tell her everything else she needs to know to understand your plan. Three chains, glowing white-hot with a golden radiance, form into wide arcs around you that sear long black marks into the ceiling and walls of the train car before you tighten them up. The seats are largely incinerated as part of that dialing-in process, leaving the space open for your sensei to start a new assault against the armored train robber.

She lowers herself into a familiar position. You’ve seen this before. First two blows in quick succession, these being particularly heavy for a Hyūga, knock the man back. Then two more knock him into the barrier you’ve created. Next come four more, now that she’s started to get herself up to speed. After that it’s eight, then sixteen. Finally, thirty-two strikes go by in a flash, her movements so swift and efficient that even to your eyes they seem to blur together slightly. As someone whose bloodline isn’t as blessed as yours and Makoto’s are, you doubt that he saw any of them.

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>best 3 of 4
Rolled 4 (1d6)

Rolled 1 (1d6)

Rolled 6 (1d6)

Rolled 1 (1d6)


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Ukiyo (浮世): the fleeting world; the transient world; the floating world

Perhaps other men would delight in receiving a barony from the high king. A floating isle of ones very own, to govern and maintain, and, but for the taxes due to the high king each season, an independence most men can only dream of.

Yet, you can feel no delight in your appointment. This is because...

>It is a punishment. A form of polite exile for your transgressions against the high court.
>It is a burden. A responsibility you never asked for, and a serious constraint on your otherwise carefree life.
>It is a mistake. It is not you who should have received this incredible boon, but someone else.

This is a civ quest taking place on a "floating islands" setting in which you play the ruler of a small island. Mechanics will be introduced as we go.
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>You welcome his company, if only for the prospect of a useful alliance.
>>You encourage the friendship, with no ulterior motives except your own loneliness
>Your son, once the apple of your eye, now lost forever to the likes of stormchasers and pirates. The disgrace of your house.
>You welcome his company, if only for the prospect of a useful alliance.

Without knowing the relative power of these factions, Yaran's father, or that of the ministers of the high court it is hard to judge how valuable an alliance with Yaran would be.

If we chose to see our posting as a burden or punishment then I would certainly pick the friendship.

I don't think giving signs of potential friendliness is a bad thing unless everyone is a moron about it or we say something stupid. If anything it should hopefully encourage others to reach out to avoid being left behind in diplomatic offers.
>>You encourage the friendship, with no ulterior motives except your own loneliness

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