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

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

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

Anyone can post images.
Anyone can use painter.
Anyone can use dice & spoilers.
Only OP can use text formatting.
3000 character limit.
750 bump limit.
Decreased post timer to match /tg/ (30 seconds for text, 60 seconds for an image reply).
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The Death Weapon Meister Academy, a prosperous school stationed in Death City. Founded by the god of Death himself, this school is tasked to take in special individuals and train them vigorously for the role of this world’s protectors. It also serves as the Central Headquarters for the prestigious death weapon, including the Eight Shinigami Legion among other military factions allied with Lord Death himself.

Another goal of the Academy is the supervision and training of Demon Weapons said to originated from Archane through Eibori’s notes to keep them from falling astray into madness. Funded by the international powers of the world, this prestigious school is considered a haven for all to hone their skills and one day join the Death Weapon Military Forces. Abnormals such as Witches, Monsters, and Werefolk have also aligned themselves to the cause of protecting the world, though some organizations still refuse to align themselves with their former enemies.

These individuals from the military alongside elite students who prove their merits and the faculty are dispatched around the clock to contain and/terminate all matter of Evil Forces that would threaten humanity. Be they be Evil Humans, Corrupted Witches, Berserk Monsters, or any other form of abnormality and chaos that is an enemy to the natural order of the world.

Students of this academy are rated by a star system with the highest being three stars. Those who have passed the entrance exam are labeled as One Stars. Lucky for you that you managed to pass both the writing exam and athletics exam. Your dream of one day becoming a three-star was now one step closer to becoming a reality.
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>>Try to summon that power once again to save yourself
Make it count.
>>Detransform your gun and make yourself a porcupine defense with the bayonet portion of your musket.
Supporting >>3935588

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A ploom of dust whirls around the single-stage space plane as you look out the side. The shiny alloy of the crafts pivoting engine glares the noon suns into your eyes and you look away. Why in gods name would the confederacy want to waste time on this place, or for that matter, why anyone would want to colonize this place, is a mystery to you. Water is a rare resource here, and finding a place where you won't sweat any drink away will be difficult. The plane's door opens up and a gust of heat hits you. The next thing that hits you is the appearance of your contact. You've seen genetic modification on other worlds before, but never to this extent. The creature before you is a mix of reptile and human, suited to this environment while retaining a humanoid form. It's baffling to imagine it's ancestors as human, and only a few centuries ago as well. It, or she rather, makes an odd gesture, one you believe is a welcome.

>Make your own gesture of greeting and hope it doesn't offend the lizard woman.
>Try to speak in the dialect you briefly studied in orbit.
> Speak to her in english.
>Attempt to mimic one of her people's greetings.
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Ask the contact's name
sorry for the wait, computer problems

With a wave of your hand the pilot retreats into his cabin to fix the issue. Having not turned away from the lizard woman you tell her, "Apologies, ma'am. We did not intend to frighten you. What is your name?"

She shies back a second, but then reluctantly gives it up, "Atra... Since you are otherworldy, I should tell you it is rude to ask that of someone you do not know." Her accent is harsh, but to your surprise, doesn't come with a hissing tone. Her range of pitch wavers greatly in each syllable as her mouth moves further than yours could.

>Offer to tell her your name to make up for the discretion.
>Ask Atra why only she is here.
>Ask Atra where people are.
>>Offer to tell her your name to make up for the discretion.
"Ohhh" You respond, surprised by such an odd cultural mannerism. "I apologize, would you prefer I tell you my name in return?"

You've rarely heard of such traditions, but one case you knew involved the belief of a name holding power. Here, it is not the case, as Atra explains, "Names are rarely swapped. It is considered arrogant." It makes sense, on these wide deserts, it'd be a rare occasion to find others.

>Ask where her people can be found.
>Ask for any more useful information on her cultural ethics.
>Simply gesture for her to proceed with whatever plans she had upon meeting you.
>Make small talk about life on the planet.
>Ask where water and food can be found.
>Simply gesture for her to proceed with whatever plans she had upon meeting you.

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At last the bulwarks of Sion emerge from the watery western mist and fog. The carriage trundles on, rocking violently as its wooden wheels strike bumps and stones along the dirt path. For three days and nights you have ridden--fled more like it--from the capital city of Ashur. You never thought you would miss its crowded thoroughfares, its endless cacophony, nor even the dry, baked earth and the cool blue of seamless skies of your birthland in the Badwal, but these wooded glens and moist bogs make even the labor camps look patable.

As you slap at yet another mosquito sipping at your neck, the carriage slows to a stop in front of the fortress gate. Above, on the battlements, a few curious guards overlook the arrival of these strangers. One of them, a man gleaming in burnished helmet, cups his hands over his mouth and speaks.

"State your name and your business."

The driver does so. He carries supplies from Ashur and from other places. This news is welcome and is followed by excited chatter that is quickly silenced by the gleaming one.

"Any passengers with you?" The driver admits there is one. "Let him come out then, and state his name and purpose."

So you dismount from the carriage and approach the gate, raising your arm. Again the other guards talk amongst themselves, this time in hushed voices. Perhaps they have never seen skin as dark as yours, never been so far south as Yamun, let alone Badwal.

"Your name seqer?" he says, using a term which in more refined places might be taken as an insult.

>Answer his brusque speech with noble politeness

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It's a good thing you had the foresight to bring your bag with you. The hourglass is still inside and while you don't need to sell it just yet, you'd like to get a quote before you leave. "I might have something. But are you looking for something in particular?"

"Furs." he says immediately. "I'm thinking of having a coat made for the winter. Apemen fur mostly, but chiron leather--now that I would pay premium for." Seeing the confused look on your face, he adds, "Never heard of a chiron before? Big, hangs upside down, leathery wings, drinks blood? No? Well by the look of you, I'd probably stay away."

"Furs then. Anything else?"

"Cienolite. And don't give it to Zalbrig, no matter what sob story he tells you. That degenerate's word is about as good as a worm in a purple-pear. You come to me, I'll give you coin per pound. Artifacts too."

"And how much would you give for this?" you say.

You take out the hourglass and plop it on top of one of the displays. The body is made, not of glass, but of cut pink crystal and the sands inside are the exotic black grains of the Badwal desert. The frame is made of brass, which gives it a solidity and weight uncommon to most timekeepers, the craftsmanship is of a quality that could only be found in the streets of Medween. Sanders is immediately interested.

He takes the hourglass in his hands, measuring it, flipping it over and watching the sand run. Checking the grooves on the side of the frame that indicate the smaller denominations of time, up to five minute increments of the hour. "Not bad. Seen better. How about 10 silver?"

You snatch it from his hands and return it to your pack. "It's worth 30."

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>Let it hang at 15, you don't need to sell it now anyway

Buy something from the shop? ( weopn or armour something to make us look more the adventuer type.
Would be good to get a list he has.
This seems like a good time to mention a couple things about the inventory mechanic.

Basically we'll be using an item slot system. The number of slots is equal to your constitution stat (11). Most items take up one slot. Your current inventory is:

== Inventory (9/11) ==
# Weapon: Arming Sword (Dmg 4, 2 slots, 3/3Q)
# Armor: Gambeson (Def 12, 1 slot, 3/3Q)
# Coin: 4s 16c
# Rope, 50ft
# Candles
# Hourglass
# Horn
# Rations x2

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Ok sounds good.
Is there a list of some of the goods we can buy?
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You let the offer hang. You're not going to sell the hourglass just yet anyway and you can always renegotiate when you have more leverage. Your eye catches the suit of platemail on the armor stand, just the torso pieces and a pair of gauntlets. Next to it, on a hook, hangs a set of chainmail and in one of the display cases, a brigandine made from a red leather. "How much for these?"

"The plate is good, belonged to the one of the lieutenant's men before he was...anyway, it's 400 silver. The chain is 120. The brigandine I can do for 50. If you're money's with the bank, I'll take a promissory note too." The whole speech seems rather rehearsed. In either case, it's all far beyond your price range. "How about this longsword?" you say, running your hands down a leather scabbard hanging next to the chainmail.

"Oh that? I can let it go for 2 silver. Same for the halberd and the battle axe. If you're looking for something a little less face to face, I've got this." He runs back behind the counter and brings out an Cienol bolt-thrower. The design is sleek, a cienolite pipe about the length of your forearm, which acts as the barrel, attached to a wooden shoulder stock that extends below it. A small wooden slat, about the size of your thumb, acts a trigger. Pressing it--does nothing, as the barrel is empty--but if it weren't, would launch a thin metal bolt fast enough to punch through all but the toughest armor. They're favored by assassins (the last three notable assassinations were all accomplished by a hidden sharpshooter delivering a bolt to the target's head from a hundred yards away) and are quite rare. Mostly because no one know actually knows how they work, and thus the only ones in use are those that have been recovered intact from Cienol ruins. "Course, it's broken, so I can let it go at 2 silvers, but if you can fix it, well you've got yourself a premium weapon. Lord Gor himself has a working one, it's a beaut. Bolts are 5 copper for twenty. Quiver's 10. I've got a working crossbow here too, but that's 6 silver."

If you could fix that bolt-thrower you'd have a formidable weapon or it might be enough to catch the attention of Lord Gor. It's within your price range as well, but of course, it all depends on whether you can actually fix it. You made your first fortune tinkering with such artifacts and reselling them for profit, but those days are long past and Cienol goods in particular are alien to you.

>Money: 2s 16c

Will you:
>Buy the bolt-thrower? (pay 2s + 15c for quiver and bolts)
>Buy a different weapon (longsword, halberd or battleaxe)?
>Inquire about something else? (write-in)
>Leave and head back to the inn?

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From the great city-states, through tribal lands and even to the far reaches of the nomads, the new invention has shaken the foundations of life itself. Sharpen than any bone, harder than any stone, easier to shape than any wood.
It is the dawn of the new age and you're put in charge of leading your people into it. Prosper through trade, create lasting monuments, influence others, explore the unknown or take by force what you need - but first of all, survive.


Welcome to Bronze Age Builder. This is a builder game - each player is controlling a single nation and performs actins using it. The main theme is Bronze Age and the game will stay in it, so don't expect much of flashy toys or vast advances.
To join in, first fill the following:

Nation Name:
Nation Color:
Nation Type: Pick one from https://pastebin.com/kWzpyz4q
Nation Fluff:
Leader fluff:
And mark your position on the map.

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>Describe the Legendary Project
>Ratna's Floating Garden
Upon ascending the throne, the first thing she ordered was the built the garden of her dreams. she built series of massive rafts anchored to the bottom of the swamp which is then piled on with dirt, allowing crops to grow above the swampy marshland of sauromatia. the garden is split into two parts, with the outer part being open and is utilized by sauromatian population to grow rice and other crops and the inner part, forbidden to the population with only select few witch doctors being allowed access to help in experiment and maintaining the garden. the inner garden is filled with Ratna's personal collection of plants from all over the swampland and is where ratna spent most of her time working on her "hobbies" and plant experiment.

>[Food], [Economy], [Industry], [Culture], [Knowledge], [Might] or [Exotic]
what techs do i get from [Culture], [Knowledge] or [Exotic] OP?
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leader portrait for rp purposes
behold your sauromatian queen
>FAQ (I guess)
You get a tech from a pre-made tech tree. Which group gives what is somewhat (but not always) related with your fluff, but considering you have just one pick, you are going to get some starter, obviously. Also, no real point checking what others got from their picks, as there are 10 (and for certain types more) starting techs from each type.

And you need to build your project first, you just get blueprints for it at the game start with the right trait. Still, description is fine as it is and covers what I need.
>Pick 1 technology
[Exotic: Consciousness]

You're into herbalism. Do the math.

Got a bit shanghaied for a project for the folks gents, sorry about the late start! I swear I'm still shooting for 1800EST opening posts!

Archive here: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Strike%20Witches%202016 If anyone new is jumping in, you can ignore anything without the 'reboot' in the title- the first crack at this was done at a pretty strange time in my life and my... uh.. well whatever I wasn't writing very well or planning hardly at all and it shows! haha!

I think that's enough for now, though keep in mind the run may be weird this week. I know I have to be at the tree farm tomorrow at 1700EST, so probably no thread then, and past that IDK what's going on, so we'll kinda have to play it all by ear.


Your mood as you make your way back to Atsugi is lifted by Kyou's- she's exhilarated that you caused so much damage so quickly, though you can feel the disappointment that you weren't able to chase down the broken remnants of the Chinese aircraft. You flash out over the sea of Japan over the city of Gangneung, it's airbase already damaged by an attack hours ago- and most of the surviving aircraft withdrawn to the south already, with the remainder either destroyed in place by the retreating base personnel, or broken down for overland movement. The Koreans have reacted to this attack more violently- there's stories already coming out of the north about units cut-off by the Chinese advance making last stands, costing the PLA far more than their number. Kyou seems to be speed-reviewing them now, aided by Muninn- though you can feel her looking for targets of opportunity.

You're better than a hundred miles out, passing north of Ulleungdo island- which, itself, is busy. While never heavily militarized, the island's already playing host to evacuation helicopters- mostly IJA helos, ferrying the wounded and noncombatants out of the most immediately threatened areas, according to their manifests.

Sixty miles further east is the first evidence of a concerted Japanese response- though, as with most things, it's an evacuation force. Still, it's impressive- two of the Naka-class light cruisers- so-called because of their limited range and correspondingly smaller displacement- lead a force of landing craft and some impressed civilian vessels across the water, making best speed for the evacuation ports. The ships- their onboard AIs identifying themselves as the Naka and Jintsuu- are primarily designed for service in the sea of Japan, and loaded for air defense. You're sure the troops they're going to withdraw will be happy to see them- and that the two ships should be more than enough to see off any sort of Chinese attack against the fleet.

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>[x] I don't think dad can have that problem. He's just not got the ego in the first place.
>[] I don't think dad can have that problem. He's just not got the ego in the first place.
>[] I don't think dad can have that problem. He's just not got the ego in the first place.

For real, like, I imagine the only thing he brags about are his daughters... And Morgan.
ok, votes called!

I think that's probably the thing that stands out the most about Frank.

By the end of the war the guy is the literal poster boy of the Navy. A decorated war hero, a kill count that stretches into the triple digits, able to down witches with almost contemptuous ease, known to single handedly turn the tide of battles, saved the world from nuclear Armageddon.

Oh and a literal harem of drop dead gorgeous witches, who are themselves decorated war heroes/royalty, and unlike nearly every fictional example they all get along just fine.

I think almost anyone else would be at least a bit smug about everything he achieved in the span of 3 years. Frank is abnormally easy-going about all of this.

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Man of the North. You are of a savage race.

There is nothing for you in this life or the next but the fruitless toil over soil frozen twice over by chilling summer winds and the deadly winter frost. In this barren wastelands devoid of Creation, one can do naught but fight for sustenance - destroy what others have Created, rape and pillage for the warm things that clothe and feed and propagate your meat-flesh. Vandals, thieves, destroyers who sneak in the night.

The name of your people is cursed by the whole of the Civilised World who know of you. Of the rest, they care not of the Periphery, chalking it rightfully to be the domain of monsters and men so far gone so that the distinction between man and beast matter not. Wretched are your men, born to die in the fields or in battle, and wretched your women, who bear the twin burdens of fighting and breeding. For in this land of inequity, every hand is needed for the harvest, every hand needed to hold the sword against the frequent raids of neighbouring tribes, every hand freed to chop the wood to keep the unnatural hoarfrosts of the cruel Alfar at bay. To stay alive.

No land is so cruel to the fairer sex. The Lady weeps to see her daughters abused so. Graceful Freyja, Mother of Sorrow, how you have suffered at the hands of the warlike Aesir. How you suffer now, a helpless witness to the miseries of your earthly children.

Caesar, it is a dark land to which you have incarnated. To what end, we know not - we scarce dare to guess what strange madness struck your pre-born mind to choose these benighted wastes. What do you see, Dreamer? What do you see in this place that we do not? What cunning schemes might you unfold to retake your long-hungered throne in the Capitoline Hills?

Or have you given it up, Vakur? The goal of your first-lifetime, the single driving fire that harried you forth to such unknown territories, from the wildlands of Gaul to the dictatorship of Rome? Have you finally lost the urge to strive toward that Imperial Dream?

That would be a pity.
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>>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]
>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]
>>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]
>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]
And then...
>>"Kvasir's," you state, resolute. "The present time is the best in which to pursue a fleeing foe." [DISCIPLINA]

Supporting this. While levity is good to lower the tension, if we don't contribute to the discussion, it could lower the others opnions of us

Previous threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=One%20Piece%20Bounty%20Photographer%20Quest
MC Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/XGUgpV79

Cover-art kindly provided by our noble artiste, Draw-anon, who generously took time off repainting the Sistine Chapel for us. Look upon our prettyboy protagonist. Look upon his devilish smile and despair.

In last thread’s episode of The QM Is Terrible At Scheduling, our handsome hero COMMANDER FLASHMAN made a flashy return to a flashy hotel in Water 7. Tragically, he wasn’t able to meet Zolo, because the also handsome Karasu (ca-caw!) had got into a duel with said pirate and lost Wado to him. Bummer.

In any case, with Flashman scarfing down a delicious breakfast and lamenting his lack of badass flying ship, which the Merry apparently now is (wat?), we continue with the thrilling adventures of...

>our dashing protagonist, Harry Flashman!
>our sworddad, Nolastname Klaus!
>our dynamic and plot-irrelevant duo, Hat and Sunglasses!
>our latest Shichibukai, Fireplace Abs!
>someone else (you gotta say who)!

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>Train weapon swapping
>Train weapon swapping.
We gotta work to unify our skills into one.
We can use it to deflect enemy projectiles so it's not completely useless. Deflecting our own bullets is stupid though.
>train weapon swapping
Personally I view billiards as a last ditch effort move when there are too many enemies to take on at once
>Train weapon swapping.
Gotta go with this one. I'm still in favour of steamrolling right towards weapon skill consolidation.

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This will be set in an alternate universe. Hero or Villain, any path you guys decide to go on will be rolled with so feel free to decide for yourselves. Manga/show characters and events can still be met/take place. Let's get Plus Ultra in this bitch. [End Intro]

You feel your stomach cramp and a slight rise in the back of your throat threatens to let the breakfast you shoveled down your throat resurface. You stare at the gates leading to the entrance exams for UA, the premier school for any Hero looking to secure a top 10 slot. A sea of hopefuls move around you, most looking just as nervous, a few have a level of confidence that almost make you feel shame for how anxious you are. You decide to get moving, you move your feet slowly and deliberately as you take deep breaths to loosen the knot in your belly. A kind looking woman in a Chinese style dress hands students small plastic keycards. You recognize her as Jade Dragon, a professional hero. She hands you a keycard numbered '231' and nods before stepping away.

You look around and notice auditorium doors labeled '1-100', '101-200', and so on. You enter the 201-300 doors, the last set and find your chair and a small slab labeled 231. You take a seat and a screen lights up on the slab as it extends a plastic stylus. It's asks only 2 Basic Questions...

>Name (you can include a description if you wish.)

>List your Quirk

You guys can workshop your own quirk if you'd like or go with one I've thought of before running this.

>Roulette: You can absorb up to 6 quirks for later use, though the quirk you activate is randomly selected out of the amount you have stored up. You can use the quirk for up to 10 minutes or activate 2 quirks at once for up to 3. (You cannot absorb mutation based quirks.)

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Supporting this
Don't you mean Academia?

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The sages and seers which have communed with spirits from other planes have long theorized that the planes go through a cycle, where older planes become more and more hellish over time until they are destroyed, while brand new planes are full of magic and celestial beings; that's why there's always a golden age of magic where all the arcane wisdom is reinvented before the magic becomes increasingly weakened and demands bigger and bigger sacrifices to be performed.

What's the age of our plane?
> Young Plane - the magic is powerful and accessible and celestials are native of the plane, there's an overabundance of magical creatures
> Mature Plane - the magic is slowly waning and requires talent and long study to master, magical creatures exist but are uncommon
> Old Plane - the magic has all but disappeared, what magic exists requires extensive sacrifices to perform, demons are native of the plane, magical creatures are rare
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>nekol bukat
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We settle for the name of Kalis. We're collectively known as the Kalis or Kalisians, and we name our capital the same as our nation, Kalis.

We organize your population into a council of elders, the chief of each of the larger most traditional families having a seat in the council. We make a census in which we discover that our people earn on average 2 silver a day (10 silver = 1 gold). We agree on setting up a tax rate of 10% over our people earnings, initially to be used to fund our army, and we hire 10 spearmen, paying them 1 gold per day each (years have 360 days).

Each of the major families which compose our fledgling nation brings with themselves the knowledge of a cantrip that they have created and passed on down the generations in their family. Some families choose to share their findings with the rest of us, while others decided to keep their findings a secret.

Most families also have at some point contacted a celestial and pledged allegiance to the god this celestial serves. Some families are still in contact with the celestial they have an allegiance towards, from whom they may get eventual aid or requests.

Most major familes also specialize in one or more economical activities that is their source of income within our society, that's usually a craft that they excel at.

Families may also have significant assets that give them an edge over each other, like herds of cattle, stashes of a particular item or some other kind of property. Some families have strange relics that they have obtained from the celestials which have weird and mysterious powers.

To submit a new family please fill up this form:

Family Name:

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>improve agriculture
Family Name: Halle Clan
Family Magic: Mending
Is the family magic kept secret? No

Does the family have allegiance to a celestial? Yes
Celestial Name: Herne
God Name/Domain: Herne Nature
Economical specialty: Woodcutters, Animal Breeders
Assets: Small herd of cattle, Flocks of Chicken
I'm gonna leave it until tomorrow to give you guys time to post a few families, then we'll begin.

The idea is that each player will have their own family, those will work as factions within the civilization, generating war heroes, sages and diplomats as needed; and there will be special turns to develop their assets and lore now and then (say, every ten years).
To expand further on the Halle Clan, they are a very insular yet friendly family, who believe in hard work and keeping ones kin no matter how distant as if there was no distance, their celestial is seen as their ancestral father figure only outloved by their oldest living patriarchs. Genetic shows are a birthmark on their right hip, green eyes, and curly hair. Halle Clan are taller than average and stocky but slow moving as a whole. They believe in hard work and tending to both nature's needs and the crops needs in equal terms, nonfarmer hall's tend to be woodsman or outdoorsman keeping the forests safe for their young ones.
All Halle men take a 4 year stint in militia or military once they reach age 18 then return to the farm at age 22, 28 at the latest.

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“So no more Trick then?” my good friend Kaze asks me with a knowing smile, finally popping the question after almost an hour straight of us reminiscing about old times in the middle of that cozy bar.

I chuckle softly, shaking my head. “Eh, it just seemed like the perfect opportunity for me to give everything up and leave it all behind. Ironically, DM-Casual perma-banning my account from akun was probably the best thing for me. All those obvious skeletons that would be hiding in my future closet permanently deleted off the face of the internet, almost impossible for even a good internet sleuth to recover. I'm forever free from all the stupid, reputation-annihilating shit I'd written on that godforsaken website, lurking for anybody to link to my real life profile if I ever somehow attain some small amount of public attention. I'd dug myself into a pit of depravity ten feet deep and was inadvertently given a clean slate. The way I figure it, why dig myself back in? I'll take the sign. I mean I've got so much shit to worry about now – the girlfriend, my WoW guild, the job, the D&D games. I don't have the free time to maintain a quest, let alone finish one – which I've never actually done successfully, may I remind you.”

“Fully aware,” Kaze confirms, reserving his condemnation and judgment as best he can.

“I was always far more invested in shitposting than running a quest,” I continue explaining. “Which just goes to show you I never really gave a fuck about quests to begin with. They were surrogate D&D games at a time when I was in a drought. Now I'm drowning in games with people I actually care about as opposed to random strangers on the internet – most of which I find pathetic, if I'm being honest.

Kaze nods. “So the big bad shitposter is finally gone for good?”

I pick up my pint glass of dark red ale, lift\ it into the air to initiate a toast and utter those impactful words with such little reverence. “Dead and buried.”

Kaze lifts his own glass of beer and in good-natured jest the two of us clink glasses.

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Mills, the rapist of Rhodesia
Mills,the nigger
Mills the madcunt
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For a moment I ponder whether I should title myself by some pseudonym to distance this rebirth of mine from my prior life back on planet Earth – perhaps Mills, as a clever inside joke to myself in homage of one of my most colorful characters. I quickly decide against it, however. Mills may be one of my most interesting creations, but he is a product and symptom both of my misguided actions which landed me in this prison. “Trick,” I tell the wildling. “The First . . . and the Last.”

Fortuitously for myself, Isorn's encampment is not far from where he had ventured forth to accost me. The Thenn scout who was tasked with the duty of keeping whatever eyes possible on the Others which seek to destroy the realms of men, beginning first with those unlucky enough to have been born on the wrong side of the Wall, turns out to be a very meticulous and prepared individual, Perhaps it was for those obvious qualities that he was selected for this necessary labor in service of his people and Magnar. Isorn offers me the spare set of clothing he brought with him on this scouting mission of his, complete with sturdy boots and a ratty cloak: a whole outfit meant to replace whatever portion of his current garb might rip or tear on any of the jagged rock or spiky glaciers which populate the inhospitable landscape. Thankfully, our builds are similar enough and as such his clothes fit me adequately, although the boots are a tad tight on my feet.

I dress myself in what Isorn has graciously granted me. Then the wildling bids me to sit for several hours before a lit fire so that I may warm myself as much as possible before we begin the long trek back to civilization that, according to his conjecture, will blacken and deaden my various digits and extremities – maybe my whole foot, and even my life if I'm not more careful! I could lose all that, true, but despite the grim portents of my future, I smirk sardonically to myself at the karmic prospect of catching frostbite and potentially losing a pinky toe just like the fate I had so casually doled out to my protagonist Velo at the start of that quest. It was such a petty, vindictive consequence that I had inflicted upon him in the opening salvo of that unnatural war betwixt author and audience I so imprecisely considered an interactive story. Velo's suffering was a conduit for a mean-spirited lesson I had intended to teach the very players of my quest, which I practically considered subhuman, the grim nature of the setting they were to immerse themselves in – a lesson which failed to take root, if it's efficacy may be judged by some of the truly idiotic actions they chose to partake in later on in the narrative.
But what it was, truly, was a mean-spirited, spiteful act of passive aggressive, sub textual preaching – an unspoken lecture as to the depths of what I believed were the players' initial stupidity in choosing such a cold, forbidding climate to be the starting point for a naked, reborn and resource-less character. And yet, here I am, making the exact same idiotic choice for myself when the stakes are actually on the line, because I stupidly chose to just give up and die when faced with the deserved consequences of my actions, rather than use my head. At least I can pat myself on the back that I don't treat myself with any less vitriol than I do others.

Truthfully, every element of that thread was a warped battleground of the intended relationship between a quest master and his readers – tainted from the beginning. Velo the QM, a deceitful, duplicitous /pol/tard acting precisely in the manner he would antisemitically characterize as jewish behavior, secretly railroading his story from the sidelines by masquerading as just another player in his fanfic on tracks, intending to rip all narrative control from his players without them ever knowing if he had somehow managed to maintain the deception considering his pitifully low IQ. And then there were the meme vultures, who descended upon Velo and his quest in its death throes to cannibalize and feast upon it once the scheme was revealed, a thin veil of moral vindication disguising their selfish desires for jollies and lulz as befitting the cesspool that is 4chan culture. Finally then there was I, TrickQM – colloquially referred to as “King of Shitposters” in certain circles – who had come to crack open the corpse and take a big, fat shit in the proverbial chest cavity of the deceased, ruined quest. I had malicious intentions like the rest, even though I might have pretended otherwise when I stole the concept right out from under the distraught Velo. I was there to laugh at an inferior manipulator, writer and person, lampoon and mock the pathetic excuse for a man by turning him into a running joke and perhaps, somehow, perversely combine my love of the A Song of Ice and Fire novels, communal storytelling and my immense propensity to shitpost into an unholy trinity of filth. I was striving for fulfillment and meaning in the muck of base conduct, like the gutter goblin I genuinely am, making trash angels in the garbage.

Isorn taps me on the shoulder, drawing me out of my thoughts. “We should start moving now, Trick.”

I nod in agreement with my wildling guide's informed assessment. “I'm ready.”

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Necromancer Detective is written in front of a live discord audience. Last time, a town exploded, Henry and the gang momentarily freaked out, and now everything seems to be settled.

Quest rules:
1. All dice rolled are assumed to be D100 unless otherwise stated
2. The first two rolls will be given far greater importance, but additional rolls, good or bad, will affect the outcome. This choice ultimately falls to the Lorekeeper, odd circumstances may cause him to change how the story progresses (a ton of crits for instance)
3. All dice rolls are final
4. Critical fails are considered to be between 1-5, Critical hits are between 95-100. Crits overpower any other roll except another crit. In the rare chance that a crit fail and crit success happen. The Lorekeeper will do something interesting from a story angle. Similarly, rolling 2 of the same number will be considered a MEGA crit, just pray its two high numbers.
5. Near misses may occur, where a rolled number is close to the required threshold, whether over or under. This can have an impact on how the story proceeds. However these are up to the decision of the Lorekeeper.
6. Sometimes there are optional choices one may participate in, these will generally NOT be taken unless there are multiple posters who wish it, assuming there are multiple posters in the thread
7. There are often times choices with multiple parts, each part is counted separately, unless otherwise stated, sometimes rolls will be required before counting the second, third, etc, part
8. There will be “Time Limited” decisions, in which characters may only do a set number of actions, these will be clearly marked. Generally you will only be able to choose one decision per ‘round’.
9. Rules may be subject to change between threads, but will not change during the same thread. These rules are what we will follow for the remainder of this thread.

Archived Threads + Sidequests: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Necromancer+Detective+Quest

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Would it be better to reveal black mana to Rosa back at the seaside cliff by Henry's house in Rally? Or should he say the N-word there instead?
Well, the lighthouse is a safe location with good memories and she will be in a better headspace there, but the atmosphere at Henry's old home will add a heavy dose of bad mojo if we're going the pity party route.

Perhaps we should go to rally and show the black mana and explain how Henry got it by being kidnapped and forced to watch his family get killed. Later at the lighthouse after she's digested the story we can get him dead drunk and tell her how they forced him to torture his brother. We should not drop the n-word until we've established a good foundation.

Thoughts? Should we include Charles? He still doesn't know and has expressed anger at Henry for pitying himself when he tells Charles to suck it up when the boy complained about his situation
Charles needs to learn and mature, but a second time. At the start of the quest, he was immature royal brat, but developed and learned from hardships on the way and after he was stopped being chased. But he's yet to learn and mature in other ways, like all this shit with Henry and moral dilemmas and other things he's been too overeager and presumptuous on, thinking he knows better when he doesn't. I guess this is more realistic than anything, which is fine. We still gotta get Rosa on the same page as Henry too though.

Too much to do, why not do it all at once?
Because she is supremely upset right now and her reaction is going to be bloody murder. We need to redirect her emotions, it's better to get her to swing to pity or compassion then reveal that we're a criminal, a heretic and a liar when she is barely a hair's trigger from exploding in anger and outrage. channel them into something it's easier to calm down from.

She needs a delicate touch at the best of times, and right now... Lol
OK then let's go with your plan

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You sit on the deck of the SS Aqua, watching your Kirlia face off with a elite four member.

Frankly your rather nervous about the whole thing, one Cut's using a real sword, and fighting a pokemon one on one, that's all kind's of unsafe.

Though honestly, you have faith in Planny, she can handle herself with that teleport. That's just a excuse, you aren't sure what your worried about.

Ever since you heard Lance went missing on Mt Silver you've felt something... you think it's dread.

Planny however, is having a world of a time, it's not often a squire to be gets to face the best swordsman in the pokemon league.

While she'd LOVE for the day to last forever... it can't and won't, she can only learn so many things.

What does she learn?

>New blade moves, better typing and damage More Samurai-y

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Rolled 60 (1d100)

Rolled 26 (1d100)

Rolled 91 (1d100)

Rolled 24 (1d100)

Calling the rolls now. Lets ee if i can squeeze in a update.

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Previous Thread >>3887777Archived Threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Magical%20Contractor%20Quest
Pastebin for Assorted Things and Past Summaries (no new one this time): https://pastebin.com/u/JuubeyQM
>I’m a very slow writer. Please bear with me. I will update when I can.
I apologize for the delay. It turns out my little stomach bug didn't pass quickly as it was full blown food poisoning. I've been mostly out of commission for the better part of a week. I'm still subsisting on a diet of plain toast, bananas, water and pedialyte, but at least I can write without frequent unpleasant interruptions. Please accept a cute Alice to make up for your inconvenience.[/spoilers]

You slow down your pace to let Jeanette follow along with the articles and give her input on the noted advice. Sometimes it's detached and impersonal—how she, as professional, would intervene in the case of a hypothetical child—other times, she's dismissive and sarcastic. You notice that she seems to act that way when the advice is about listening to a loved one's feelings or on seeking therapy. Also, you can feel her legs tense up whenever you broach that subject. You might be new at this, but you can tell she's...what was the term they used again…deflecting. You force yourself to continue on. The advice says not to confront her in an accusatory way. She needs to want to talk about her emotions on her own, but you know you can steer the conversation that way. In some ways it's like getting a contract out of a reluctant human.

As you switch over to a linked article you finally address the woman in your most charming yet innocent voice. "Jen what's so bad about therapy? It's just talking like we did last night, right? I really don't understand; people like to be understood by others, and I felt better when I opened up to you and Alice about my past. It's the same for you, right?"

"Um, well it can be just talking like we did last night, except you have to talk. I mean they say you don’t have to but they find ways of making you talk…”

“Like torture? Titania…”

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>You feel like you're forgetting something—oh yeah. You promised to help Alonso. You might want to do that.
>Sam keeps looking at you like he wants to ask you something. He looks somewhat troubled so it might be important.
>Roll 1d20 for altering Alonso. No crit fails.
Rolled 9 (1d20)

Rolled 16 (1d20)

Rolled 10 (1d20)


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Everything happened so fast. Before all of this, you were Freya Godsblood, princess of Ordamark, and you were the most beautiful women in the land. But everything changed for you, as you've caught the eye of the Dark Lord Lazarus Drack who, seeing you, decided to claim you as his wife.

Now, you are his Empress, the Dark Queen Freya Drack, and your reign has just begun.
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looks like we are not the best ship builders in this world
It's not like your people are viking, ready to build boats on the go and go on merry raids all around the world :P

And just so you know, Sebastian Morebarr, king of Loch Arnnach, already recruited his count of Guardsmen, his 40 000 Axemen.
Do you want him to recruit 40 000 more ?
no the 40.000 are just for those lands that don`t have a standing army
and i take it you are done with the pastebin?
Yes, I modified them, so tell me if I forgot something. For now I'll go to sleep, next session tomorrow at around 5pm paris time.

See you, everyone.

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