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You’re STANLEY PARBLE: a girl with a weird name and an even weirder tale: after a CENTURIES-OLD LICH woke up during your graveyard shift at the GOOD BOY DOGGIE BONE factory, your simple life of janitorial work became a bit more… Complicated.
Sure, you became pals with your now-sentient skeleton (you named him LY) AND gained some nifty SUPER POWERS from eating MAGICAL BONE MARROW, but that doesn’t change the fact that your hometown of CLEARWATER, CALIFORNIA is overrun by HOMICIDAL SKELETONS! Even worse, the guy in charge is dead-set on taking over the rest of the world while he’s at it! Not cool!

The beginning of the end: that’s what you thought, at least. Having laid HIGH SCHOLAR IZITHA, the last of TIM’S nefarious LIEUTENANTS AND PHYLACTERIES to rest in her Atlantean lab below the sea, all that remained was to take the fight to the wicked warlock himself… but how?

Your answer, you reasoned, lay with your old friend CLIFF– the ringleader of the skeletons you hadn’t reduced to dust in your travels. Heading to their headquarters at the old DRIVE-IN, you were met with not only a solid plan, but a well-deserved party in your honor, too!

Enjoying the rest of the night with your old friends, you eventually retired for the evening with your janitor companion and ex-would-be-assassin TALBOT... f-for security reasons, obviously, don’t read into it! Upon waking, however, you quickly surmised that something had gone seriously wrong… and once again TIM was behind it all.

Possessing Talbot’s body, the lich was all too happy to inform you of your grave mistakes, chief among them befriending his thralls when he could see and hear everything they do, including planning to smuggle you into his FLYING FORTRESS LAIR. Asserting his vile will on your bony friends, TIM left you to deal with the army of skeletons you neglected to destroy, a raging bloody blizzard, and a Talbot intent on tearing you apart.

Though you escaped from the trap by the skin of your teeth, some of your friends weren’t so lucky–both MITZI AND ART were hurt while fleeing, and while you sent them to the UNIVERSITY for medical aid, you focused on taking care of the Talbot problem.

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“Parble, WAIT! Please!”

Hand hovering over the doorknob, you take a steadying breath before turning your head to face the holograms one more time. YeEeEsss?

“Just…” Stammers Hare as he waits for the others to chime in, “Just please sit down…”

“At least until you’ve heard our offer.” Adds Mr. Fox in a more diplomatic tone. “And we, in turn, will conduct ourselves accordingly, yes?”

“Within reason.” Replies Rat as Mantis grunts in assent.

Fine, you growl as you apprehensively retake your seat at the head of the table, but if you aren’t getting some kind of reward-

“Ms. Parble,” Crane interrupts, “We reached out to you because we’d like to offer you… a job[/b.”

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Don’t worry, folks, this ain’t it–I feel like we’ve got a little more stuff to sift through, so we’ll be ending the thread here and immediately moving on to #20 for a few more epilogue bits and the big wrap-up!

I’m pretty much at the end of my planned material, so Thread 20 will be a bit shorter than this one for sure… but I invite you to come along as we tie up the last remaining loose ends (that I’ve planned for) and discuss the quest as a whole. Thanks as always for playing and sorry for the sudden wrap-up, we’re almost on Page 10 and I didn’t wanna rush!

Here’s the important stuff, though: since we’re just about done with the quest I’m looking for a WEB DESIGNER to take the whole quest and put it on a website in an easy to read format. I took a swing at it about a year ago and while I could probably make it happen with enough time and effort, I realize that there are folks out there who can probably do it quicker, make it prettier, and do an overall better job of it. Message me on Twitter if you’re interested and we’ll talk shop!

Anyways, here’s the usual links:

This thread is archived! Man, what a doozie!

The rest of the quest can be found here in the archive–thanks again to all the voters!

My Twitter’s here–follow this if you wanna contact me, see some shitty art, or get other updates! I won’t clog your dashboard, trust me!

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1000th post.
Excellent thread as always. Gave archived thread an updoot.
sry didn't read the seggs though.
Thanks, Bones. Awesome thread as always. See you on the next one!

I’m afraid I don’t know anything about web design, otherwise I’d be delighted to help you out. Most I can do is wish you luck in finding somebody.
No worries--you read the quest and that's what matter to me! Thanks for hanging on for the ride!

I'll see you there--it's already up! And I appreciate the sentiment about finding someone. It's not SUPER important, but if I ever wanted to share Bones it'd be nice to have it in an easy-to-read format while also not being on a certain Tibetan Bug Catching Forum, especially for the normies. A lot of my friends know and don't give a shit, but still... would be nice!

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In the previous thread, you finished the beach episode, decided to stay in town while your non-bubble friends went on a trip around the country, and checked the police station to catch up with what was going on. You can’t let things go unsolved! At the moment, you’re talking with the Price Brothers, and the conversation is turning weird!

“Could you please inform me of what type of woman you like?” Maximum Price sounds demanding even though he’s trying to ask nicely.

W-What?” Vanessa is confused!

You’re confused.

Gamadiel is confused.

Yareli is impassive.

…Maximum Price is being serious. He wants you to answer with the truth and nothing but the truth. Strangely, many people have been asking this to you lately, so you’re prepared! But the thing is… Is it the truth what you want to say?

How do you respond?

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>“Dorothy, I’ll ask your daughter if you’re worth saving or not. How about that?” Give Dorothy a bad deal.
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“Dorothy, I’ll ask your daughter if you’re worth saving or not. How about that?” You let out a mischievous smile without thinking.

“Qua-Quack…?!” Dorothy didn’t see this coming for some reason, and she’s now ten times more concerned than when she was defeated somehow.

“Huh, I’m starting to think all of this makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.” Kobashi bobs his head in pure confident confusion, if somehow these two words make sense together.

“Pointing out the absurdity of the situation doesn’t make it in any way less real.” Once you’re consumed by the nonsense, you can go along with everything more easily. Or maybe you need to admit you’re losing your mind.

“You’re right. I must *always* live in the moment.” This answer explains so much about Kobashi, you don’t know what to say back.

“Quack…” Dorothy wants your attention. “Quack.” Dorothy points at the ‘yes’ on the notepad. She’s willing to go through all of this for the mere slim chance of getting what she wants.

In a twisted way, and maybe under other circumstances, you’d admire the stubbornness – but you don’t. You don’t even understand why you’re entertaining this request. Perhaps it is not to take the decision away from Lise. It’s her mother. She might need some closure. And it’s up to her if she wants to patch things up with her mother… or get some payback. Still, bringing someone’s abuser back into their life feels iffy at best. You might regret this, you might not. You feel like either way, Lise will get mad at you.

“Mr. Phil, you don’t look happy with her answer.” Fiora is afraid you’ll burst into an angry fit.

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“Quack?! Quack, quack, quack!” Dorothy honks angrily. She did not like your description!

“Oh, how could I forget? She was also morbidly obese.” You point out. The duck stands in shock.

“Is the password you mentioned so important to waste your time talking to her? It’s obvious you don’t want anything to do with her.” Kobashi wants the full picture.

“I think the decision should rest on my friend’s shoulders. She’s her mother. I don’t want to take the chance from her.” You aren’t sure about it. If your dad showed up in duck form, despite how much you hate him, you’d want to see it… to make fun of him. “I’m kinda worried that she’ll get mad at me for bringing her back, as far as she knows, she’s dead and gone, and has made peace with it.”

“Quack…” Dorothy didn’t like hearing that either, but in a subdued way.

“I’m sure your friend is going to find forgiveness in her! Mothers need to correct their children to fulfill their potential. I’m sure she had your friend’s best interests in mind, Mr. Phil.” Fiora says some fucked up things to cheer you up.

“Quack!” Dorothy nods in agreement. You want to smack her stupid duck head, but it’s not her body. And honestly, you should keep your feelings down, you aren’t sure what their relationship was like in detail. You doubt there’s room for forgiveness, but you can’t deny there’s a chance.

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“You’ve done great work, fairy. We’re in your debt.” Philonune bows.

“W-W-W—Wh-What’s that little thing?!” Fiora hides behind Kobashi, she’s terrified of the cutest entity you know. The little fairy loses morale, she doesn’t want to make anyone feel scared.

“Q-Quack?!” Dorothy can see her as well and is dumbfounded by her presence.

“Am I missing something…?” Kobashi feels like everyone is acting off with no discernable explanation.

“Don’t worry, she’s my fri—”

Your explanation gets interrupted by the ground shaking violently for a moment. Some sort of shockwave expanded through the air, like a smoke ring cloud, in the blink of an eye. Power came back as fast as it went out, and with it, you realize Kobashi and Fiora went unconscious. They dropped in relatively comfortable areas… The same thing cannot be said of the person who descended from the ceiling…

“Oh… Bollocks…” It’s Houda Lan! He’s rubbing his head after the fall. “What in the bloody hell was that?”

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Thanks for running!

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You are a 30-ish year old man that died alone and unsatisfied. Your last wish to redo your life. When you opened your eyes you were again a high school student with your past memories intact. You have a chance to redo your life.
>>Freshman (age:15)
>>Sophomore (age:16)
>>Junior (age:17)
>>Senior (age:18)
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>>Plan: family
1. Send mom to therapy
2. Send sister to therapy, buy her a gaming pc or other hobbies so she doesn't turn to drugs
3. Find out who dad borrowed money from and how much, use the debt to blackmail him or buy him out
4. Get your own office, hire June as your secretary and fuckbuddy
>alternative plan
Get out and buy a house.
Have Olivia come live with you and take her to therapy
+1>>5418658 anons video game stuff
Send mom to therapy
Call Dad and tell him he is a fucking disgrace
steal June from dad
I do quite like this plan, desu. If viable, I'll switch my vote from >>5418654 to this.

support these two
except the black mail part but do pay it back for the dad
>Find out who dad borrowed money from and how much, use the debt to blackmail him or buy him out

Dad never borrowed money from someone, that was just an excuse he told mom

“Dad borrowed money from… someone and managed to keep the house. [What he told the family]

You know [the truth, that] he helped his mistress to siphon some money from her dickhead family and got a cut from it.”

sorry if I didnt make it clear my bad

>>5418658 writing..

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Man, this pina colada freeze is good. Such a buzz that you can almost forget the fact that it runs nearly fifteen bucks.
You hate tourist traps, but you have to admit, you're not carrying around an alcoholic slushee maker on vacation, and this is pretty fantastic for a mass-produced drink.
"Alex Woodsman."
Maybe that's the alcohol talking, though: It's such a buzz that your girlfriend-of-nine-months-turned-fiancée has to poke you in the cheek three or four times before she gets your attention.

Meryl narrows her eyes at you and demands your attention more closely. "Were you listening?" No. She was on one of her ramblings. You love her, but when she explains certain things, she goes on an elaborate lecture that makes your eyes glaze over. Like that time she told you she's a mermaid or something and her family lives under the ocean and she has to mate with you in order to produce children that make her... subspecies... more human.

She's not lying, surprisingly enough. Meryl is genuinely some kind of Dagonian, a humanoid with amphibious features. It's kind of like the Innsmouth nature, but instead of twisted mutations, it seems closer to her having some kind of limited glamour over her supernatural but otherwise 'clean' features. Her dad is also apparently a wizard who killed monster hunters after her family. There's more to it than that, obviously, but how does she expect you to remember the details when she barely stops to breathe? You're smart, but you have to stop and take notes for stuff you've never heard before.

Plus, you know, the booze, which rocks, is making your mind a warm fuzzy. Complimented by the ice of the freeze. Ah. That's the stuff.

Meryl places her face in front of you, to make sure you're looking at her. "Do you want me to repeat myself?" Absolutely not. "Well then, pay attention next time!" And then she repeats herself, of course. "Alex, I know I have a degree, and I'm willing to work, but I really, really want to serve as the primary home-maker. I... I don't trust anyone else but you with any children we might have."

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The night sky is dulled somewhat by the lights of the streets, the neon and the halide flooding the pitch darkness and setting it aglow. Human lights can be seen from orbit. You wonder who else sees these lights, and the people who make them. You see the woman in front of you, her smile a light for your life. Well, that might be misplaced. The dark isn't so bad. In the night, you learned to depend on what you can feel, instead of what you can see. Humans fear the dark, the depth, because what can't be seen can't be easily controlled, if at all. You wonder whether the lights that let you see her so well are part of what keeps her trapped. She doesn't hate being Dagonian so much as she hates the idea of being rejected, and in the dark, those tells of hers become just part of the shadow, as real as they would be in the depths of the ocean. Does stepping into the light mean she's giving up a part of herself?

You decide it doesn't matter. Everyone gives up parts of themselves as they grow and change. You stopped being so innocent when younger in order to become a grown man. Being innocent to a child-like degree isn't wrong, it just isn't useful and doesn't fit who you want to be. If she chooses to become a human completely, you have to trust her choice. With that philosophizing put aside, you follow her down the street and join her in studying the flow of bar crawlers, beach-goers, and revelry-partakers that make up this small fragment of the world.

You end up in an Irish pub by the end of the night. When she laughs during a discussion with you over darts and beers, the world just makes more sense. Thoughts of burdens and obligations slough off of you. You're no good at throwing, especially when tipsy, but you do your best to impress her. She's not too terribly concerned either. You savor the moment, the memories, as they last. Day to day life with her won't be like this, but it will certainly have a charm of its own, and you'll always be able to look back on this then anyway.

All is well, with the two of you together.
That'll likely be the end of the thread: As apologies for being somewhat erratic in posting due to adapting to a life change, I'd like to ask if you'd like a small POV change for any of the following scenarios:

>A Vision of Humanity [Meryl's perspective]
>Feeding and Care Guide for a Dagonian Wife [Mr. Cier's perspective]
>Alex, hometown hero. [Chase's perspective]

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>[Write-In] All of the above

however if I had to pick, I think I'm by slightest margin most curious about the mystery box [???]
>A Vision of Humanity [Meryl's perspective]
>Feeding and Care Guide for a Dagonian Wife [Mr. Cier's perspective]
I would definitely be curious about all of these, but for now:
>What happened to the old man that could hear the Dagonian call? [???'s perspective]

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You had the dream again last night.

It isn’t normal for members of the Rpetilian Master Race to dream. For most of your life, you certainly didn't. Even in more recent days, the ‘dreams’ you have experienced have been more akin to divine visions, from the Dark Gods Beyond and Below, appearing to offer advice, issue commands, make bargains. This is something… Different.

The dreams vary in exact composition and structure. They seem vivid in the moment, but as soon as you wake, they grow hazy, disjointed, distant. But you remember… Yes, you remember.

You remember green armour, etched and engraved with effigies of dragons in flight, dragons in battle…

You remember the blade, similarly-engraved with images of a dragon in throes is ignoble death.

The Green Knight is coming. The last of the Yosefs, butcherer of your mother. Upon his brow sits a Diadem of Clarity, vital to restoring your spiritual brother’s shattered psyche.

You have been having the dream for two months now, intermittently. Nothing ahs yet come of it, such that you have long concluded it holds no specific or urgent meaning. You’ve told no one of it, unwilling to compromise your position by admitting to the likely root cause: your partial mammalian heritage, corrupting your mind in response to the pressures of command and the looming threat of the Knight.

You have made great strides in the Bloodrise mountain range, ancestral home of the Red Dragon King who is your father’s distant progenitor. With the aid of your allies, you have subjugated and vassalized the local kobold clan, allied yourselves with a secretive society of dark elves and a barbarian race of ‘bugbears’ (who, admittedly, you have not heard from for the better part of a season), forged a yet-more-intimate alliance with a race of sentient caterpillars, and you have enslaved to your will dozens and defeated dwarves! You worked for this. BLED for this. Lost valued allies and even a loyal lover to make it happen. You may dream of the Green Knight’s vengeful blade when you sleep, but when you are AWAKE, you dream also: you dream of a new Copper Dragon Kingdom, with yourself sitting at its top, adored and venerated, respected and loved. You have not told the Serpent Priesthood of this ambition, lest your already-skeptical superiors order a change-of-command. You will NOT show weakness now, and risk losing it all.

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Thanks for running, RQM!
>not sure there's the will among players to do what you would need to do in order to make this a reality
I'm not sure about that after seeing how many anons regretted her death, RQM. Would be nice if we can at least hear about this possibility and reqs next thread to see what anons think.
For one, won't stir much in a resurection of the dwarf. She was a nice character arc, but I plan for protag to end with the novice. Even glowie will feel more satisfying than Davora.
>glowie will feel more satisfying than Davora
[Well, I'll put it to a vote at some future point in the next thread or two!]

Volume 5 begins! New thread: >>5410693

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There was an instance of pain- no, intense discomfort. As if you had been scrubbed down from head to toe with a scratchy towel. But before you can comprehend what had happened you lost your balance and land on the floor. And now there is a new sensation – one much more concerning – that of a naked butt on a dirty stone floor. And it wasn’t the stone of a nice bathroom tile either but something like rough cobblestone.

You quickly turn around to keep a piece of gravel from making a permanent home in your right butt cheek only to hit your knee hard on another one. “Ahh, fuck”, the curse escapes your lips, before you come to all your senses.
The air was stale and smelled of mold and sooth. Multiple torchlights, while exposing your naked body to the people around you did nothing to warm you. In front of you was a stone obelisk, maybe two stories tall, with writing you couldn’t identify. And if the figures around you aren’t larping-


You know how this story goes.

You got isekai’d like a little bitch.

And you weren’t some looser NEET that could fulfill his fantasy in another world, you were just promoted. While your world wasn’t perfect, you had a good life going for you. But in this medieval looking one you’ll probably be able to have spicy food ever again, nor know how George RR Martin wants to actually end the Song of Ice and Fire.
Okay, self-pity party is over. Let’s focus on the hear and now. The people who isekai’d you haven’t raised their voices but were whispering to one another without addressing you. While you couldn’t hear what they were talking about, you can still hear the confusion in their voices.

You stand up and idly wipe away the gravel that has embedded itself into your skin.

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We don' know what you are talking about anon
Yes it is
I'll just go kys myself
what an adrenalin rush that was, shit I'm such a dumbass
>Just keep to the business, you have more than enough on your plate already and you should establish a business relationship with him first.
What interests us isn't a tailor's workshop, but a spinner's. Spinning jenny started the industrial revolution, doesn't need large investments and is something we can earn our own money on if we can invent it. Though it's not something in a civil engineer's purview.
>Just keep to the business, you have more than enough on your plate already and you should establish a business relationship with him first.
>>Ask to see their workshop. The faster you get some information, the better you can plan ahead.
New thread next? We're on page 10

Hello hello! Welcome to capsule delivery quest!
This is a quest set in the dragon ball universe,

As for your place in the timeline
You were born in age 736 (sharing a birth year with baldy krillin and the champ)
For context, bulma meets goku in september of 749

Our story begins in the age 746 at the ripe ol age of 10!

Ever since you could remember thinking, you were always amazed by combat movies, and after an accidental press of the channel that displayed the tournament of the "strongest under the heavens" you were mesmerized by martial arts.
Your parents, tired from working all the time, where a little bit too eager to let you find something to distract yourself with, but under the condition you found a teacher within their budget...

>budget at most 10270 zeni per month (or 75 dollars)

But before all that. What is your name?

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Calm her down...
It's OK, calm down. You're cute both ways!
>Calm her down...
I'll back >>5419803
She's awesome no matter what!

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You are Rhea Silvia.

In return for the dubious honor of continuing to live in a daemon tainted mansion, you have rather foolishly agreed to meddle in the affairs of both the Inquisition and a rival Slaaneshi/Tzeentchian cult.

It hasn’t gone well so far.

You have found yourself the rather unwilling guest of one “Samara Croven” (probably an alias), who is apparently the offspring of two former associates of yours, plus a whole lot of Drukhari tampering.

You have pseudo-null like abilities that make you resistant to psychic manipulation, but Samara is dangerously persuasive, and probably right more often than not.

What is it that you have really trying to accomplish over the past 15 months?

Just stay alive? Keep a low profile? It was you that chose to ask for power and wealth from your evil clone, there is always a price for such things.

Avoid angering the terrifyingly powerful? Trys’ta and Evil Rhea are less than sane and could turn on you at any time, meanwhile you keep on making more and more enemies.

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Like most buildings you have seen so far, the Palace is relatively unchanged. Unlike in Evil Rhea’s pocket realm where even the buildings are lewd and visibly corrupt, the resort island is still firmly based in reality, so lewd sculptures, banners, and other artwork is the main visible change to the building.

There are a fair number of soldiers around, and even a few Dark Selunites and daemonettes, but no one challenges you as you enter the Palace. For a moment you are worried the daemonettes would sense your null-like aura, but they are either too weak, or they don’t deem it noteworthy.

You know the Palace layout well enough to make it to the main hall, where perhaps Tweezette keeps her playthings chained near her throne like Kayla and Evil Rhea often did.
To your disappointment however, this is not the case.

The main hall has been redecorated as an elaborate throne room, or perhaps even a bit like a starship bridge.

Tweezette’s throne is at the far end on a large dais surrounded by advisors and guards. In front of the dais, officers and the Slaaneshi equivalent of tech-priests work away on hololiths, vox-casters, cogitators, and data-slates. Along the walls are trophies of sorts, moaning away as their own bodies pleasure them with tentacles and tongues that seem to have a mind of their own.

Tweezette now looks even more like a washed out porn star in her Dark Selunite garb, and minor mutations including oversized lips and breasts. Among her advisors you spot Cardinal Bromph, now too obese to move without an anti-grav chair, Gallantine, now in her true form as a matronly looking daemonette, and Bannick, looking relatively unchanged, though his security thugs, still the bodyguard of the governor, are becoming increasingly mutated.

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She is strapped up to some sort of pleasure device, but is still remarkably sane.

You doubt two-three years ago you could have pictured a situation where you found yourself disguised as a dominatrix-soldier, chatting with a woman tied to a dildo machine like it is a perfectly normal thing to do, but here you are...

Over the course of a several minute conversation you learn a wide range of useful information.

The original Kayla and Trish were merged into something called a “cuttledaemonette”, but in a fit of whimsy, Evil Rhea had the relatively sane and uncorrupted parts of their souls extracted from the cuttledaemonette and stuck into clone bodies procured from the Dark Eldar. Evil Rhea eventually got bored of them though and pawned them off on Tweezette, who also got bored of them and only occasionally makes use of them. Clone Kayla apparently escaped with the intention of rejoining HYDRA IX, but Clone Trish seems to have resignedly accepted her fate.

Clone Trish seems pretty interested in learning about Samara, but ultimately seems to decide Samara is more of an artificial creation than a true daughter. She declines any attempt to rescue her, feeling that groups like HYDRA IX, Frozen Heart Kabal, or even trying to reintegrate into Imperial society are more dangerous than her current circumstances, which she insists aren’t as bad as they look.

It only occurs to you then that Samara never gave you instructions on how to return to her. You hadn’t really thought of it before since honestly you didn’t think you would make it this far.

>Try harder to convince Trish to leave.

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>She declines any attempt to rescue her, feeling that groups like HYDRA IX, Frozen Heart Kabal, or even trying to reintegrate into Imperial society are more dangerous than her current circumstances, which she insists aren’t as bad as they look.
She and Rhea kind of have a lot in common.
>>Try getting back to Ravenholm to report back to Samara.
Honestly as far as reporting to her goes, we can probably just go back to the hotel room. She'll probably contact us there. Then we can make arrangements to go back to Ravenholm
>>Try getting back to Ravenholm to report back to Samara.
>Ask Trish if she needs anything. Water, food, a blanket, a setting change maybe?
>>Try getting back to Ravenholm to report back to Samara.
I agree we should go back to the hotel room and see if there's anything for us there first.
And yeah, surprisingly similar story, if only a little more corrupted. I suppose that in the grim darkness of 40k, it speak positively of the Daughters and their methods that some people like us and clone Trish can just exist after having a brush with them. Rhea still wouldn't join,but probably understands that she could have worse neighbors.

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Some ten years ago, I hosted some few Civ Threads and absolutely loved it. It's time to revisit this waste of time and give it a go, once again.

The races are very limited. The starting location is going to be a boring ol' mountainscape, a woodland or a grassland area. The goal of our civilization is to survive the struggles and trials of diplomacy, war, attrition and whatever else the world throws at us.
We have survived. A year ago, a calamity struck our world and left us in ruin. Since then, we've been traveling the cold winding mountain paths, the treacherous dark forests, and the scorching sands of vast deserts. We've endured what most would not be able to stand.
But now we've arrived. Our civilization has found a new cornerstone, a new home amidst the nature, where we'll find protection and comfort. We are but few, but our will is strong. We WILL survive.

>What race are we?
>In what sort of terrain does our new sanctuary lie in?
>What sort of tragedy broke us in our past?
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Rolled 5 (1d6)

>> Prepare for combat.
Being prepared is better than nothing, even if we are just armed with rocks.
The scavenging party hastily prepares for combat, equipping themselves with whatever scrap and rubble they can get their hands on. A courageous speech whispered among the huddling gnomes can be faintly heard, as they bolster themselves and steel their nerves in wait of whatever is approaching them.

Soon after taking positions, the stranger enters the room. The warm light illuminates the hall and reveals the stranger to be a mighty orc strapped with all sorts of gadgets and scrap as makeshift armor. Not a single inch of friendliness can be seen in it's face as it sniffs the air around it, preparing to kill and plunder whatever and whoever it might find.

Finnfin lets out a war shout and the ill-equipped gnomes launch from the shadows, attacking the beast with everything they've got.

The orc kicks, thrashes, bites and slashes at the brave gnomes, killing one instantly with a hard knee-kick to the head. Another gnome is sent to face it's Gods by being thrown tens of feets through the air, smashing against a metal wall. A third gets lifted up by it's torso all the way to the orc's face where a gnarly crunch can be heard as it's arm is bitten clear off.

After a nasty, bloody struggle, a gnome bearing the name Turma manages to land the finishing blow on this beast, stabbing it repeatedly in the neck with a sharp piece of scrap metal. The beast is dead, along with a total of four of our brave gnomes.

After a silent moment for our fallen brethren, we managed to salvage the orc's light source. A gnomish invention, a near infinitely powered lyrium torch. This should make our nightly trips a lot safer and easier in the future. In addition, the orc's makeshift backpack contained a few poor quality rations. Salted rat, a questionable chunk of... Venison? I hope it is venison, and a few ounces of lyrium, safely wrapped in a metal foil.

We spent the night in the light of the lyrium torch and returned to our camp in the morning. The people were devastated to hear of our losses, but the found planter facility and the bags of produce brought enough compensation and joy to at least make sure our kin did not die in vain.

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Rolled 4 (1d6)

>Forage for food and tools
Rolled 5 (1d6)


Dice roll just in case
Also let's try to Make a lyrium powered bicycle or hover board or wheelbarrow

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In this world, is the destiny of mankind controlled by some transcendental entity or law? Is it like the hand of God hovering above? At least, it is true that man has no control, even over his own will.

Alas, they are certainly welcome to try and struggle to deviate from the laws of causality. Such is the case for a human mortal by the name of Vlad Santana. A young man who would find himself at the crux of a story that would eclipse his mere mortal soul.

Character Profile and abilities:

Previous Thread:

Thread Archives:

Rolls will usually be a best of 3 1d100 from each player, DCs are context sensitive but transparent when prompted to roll.

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The moment Vlad gets on the boat, put the entire quest on a full 1 month hiatus
Bad fucking timing that my PC breaks today and now I have to phone post like a little bitch. Oh well at least THE damn thing in ONE PIECE, which IS REALly better than nothing when you think about it.
Wouldn't be a faithful adaptation of the story I didn't do that now, would it? I do want to at least write of the Roar of the astral as an epilogue though.

Who knows, maybe Vlad can tell the pirates to fuck off by throwing the remainder of his fortune at them.

Man, do I know how that feels anon. Living in windy areas next to the sea are hell on your parts, don't know how I even made the Cromwell thread legible by writing it on my phone amidst summer vacation.
Here's hoping you can get it fixed soon, life without a PC nowadays blows if you're the stay at home type

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Guess I forgot to link it here, but we're live again!
Hopefully it lives up to the hype.

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Welcome back. It's been a hot minute, but I just couldn't find the time to just sit down and make the update. Anyway:
Archive of previous thread:

Paracelsus drank the magical jungle juice and grew long spines along her back.
You discovered some of the consequences from Ogg transforming people into big burly things with superiority complexes, meaning people that turned into almost completely draconic humanoids that like to call themselves the "dragonborn". They were slaughtering a city, which you put a stop to. The Grey Knight has decided to ride ahead, and you've equipped your kobolts with a hell of a lot of guns.
William completed his kobolt transformation and took it rather harshly, and you're trying to get him to accept it a bit more.

You look at William for a while, trying to think of the right words for it… It doesn’t come easy. But you think you have a place to start, at the very least.
“Well… from where I’m sitting, I think I still see my squire sitting there. Breathing and talking. Generally speaking, that means they’re not dead.”
William almost laughs, and just says:

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Great point, make an addendum to the leave request where we can leave alive, well, and unchanged. the whole point is to leave with our people and the corse without getting fucked.
Wow this is a tough spot to be in
Picking the option to leave with our lives and the wizard corpse seems like a bad idea to me. Would it not be ideal to meet the dragon half way? If he does not like the idea of us taking Ogg's corpse without him benefiting in some way, then what is to keep him from killing us? There's nothing really stopping him from killing us here and now if he feels offended or cheated by the boon suggestions.
Dragons are naturally greedy, so if he feels like he's not getting something out of this exchange, then that would leave him in a sour mood.

This is absolutely not an option to pick.

You don't know how long you've been shapeshifting, but you do know you're really good at it, and passionate about changing your appearance. You come from the, errrrrrrr, that isn't important, you're just trying to infiltrate society, and rise to power, and control the earth.

>first off

Are you male or female lizard?
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>Time for me to scout out that lead from before. Edmonton, was it?
Vigilance is key... and fear shall be our ally!
>Time for me to scout out that lead from before. Edmonton, was it?
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Edmonton is quite a ways away- almost five hours. It occurs to me that I spent a lot of time traveling that I simply should not have. Nonetheless, I am here now. Perhaps I could have my body's work transferred to this location. One of the things my mind takes note of is the Cree First Nation here. They will likely have a better awareness of the skinwalkers than the overly technological government of Canada. But perhaps not. Magicians are often as easy to fool as the mundane, especially since they think they are more keen than they are. And there's no telling how many of the Cree actually have thaumaturgical study as opposed to simply getting by as other humans do. It's not as if they're all huddled around magical circles or speaking to spirits.

I was stopped by a Mounted Policeman, but luckily it wasn't for the violence I perpetrated. It was for the exhaust of my car, of all things. The Quebecois imbecile insisted that I needed to replace the catalytic converter. I have no idea what that is, but how should I know how human machines work when none of you seem to? It was also somewhat concerning to me that he had crossed the continent for work, but he says it's standard in his line of employment. Making small talk pains me, and this was even worse given his heavy accent. Also, this car is only twenty years old and has a little over three hundred thousand kilometers on it. Any machine made at this level of development should have at least twice as much left in it. My memories contradict me, but he's even less knowledgeable about machines than I am, so I'm ignoring him. He probably just wanted a new car.

More importantly, I track down the individual in question through a mixture of mysticism and technology. Having translated my profile onto this body's mobile phone for accessibility, I have a list of the subject user's history. Combining that that with my natural hunter's instinct, I was able to track this fellow down to a local store. He's picking between shades of bell pepper when I come across him. An Asian Canadian, or would be, if he wasn't a skinwalker wearing the shade of his victim. Despite this, even an adept shapeshifter has some tells that indicate they're not comfortable with a specific kind of body. Minor weight changes or ethnic differences can throw off someone who isn't a master like I am, and even I have had a long enough time in my own frame to find new shapes unseemly, especially monkey shapes.

Whether he's originally from the west side of the Pacific or not, he seems to gauge that I'm not what I seem either. The ball is in my court, so to speak.

>I ought to treat him as if he were the individual that had made his film, to keep up appearances.
>There's no one else around. I'm going to drop the pretenses, for the sake of speed.
>Simply shop as well. I require sustenance, and it will make him feel more at ease.
>All I need to do to learn who he is is eat him, so I ought to.
>[I Seem to Have Made You Wait]
(Also note that this will most likely be the last open question of this thread before the thread is archived. If I don't post a reply before then, it means that the result will be next thread's OP.)
>I ought to treat him as if he were the individual that had made his film, to keep up appearances.
>Simply shop as well. I require sustenance, and it will make him feel more at ease.

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You're a nubian king that subjugated the island of albion.
You're large, strong and muscular.
You've dark skin, dark hair and darkly smoldering eyes.
Your servants are pale skinned, pale haired and green eyed.
They're small and weak and require your protection.
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We must protect the Albionese, with their weak wills and addictive personalities, from the lure of these foreign drugs, lest they go around conquering other nations in their desperation to secure more.
Is this Hasan's attempt at revenge on Sam Hyde?
I kill myself because I'm a nigger
There are lots of resources available. There's no need to do that, anon.

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[Welcome back to Children of Hubris, an open-ended WH40k Adventure set in the Imperium of Man starring Janus Caskett of the Adeptus Arbites. It’s been a year and a half since the last thread, sorry about that! If there is interest in continuing this grimdark noir adventure, I shall resume writing it and take care to not let another gap of this length occur between threads.

The quest only got through 2 threads, which I will recap below, but you can read those threads here if you feel so inclined.
PROLOGUE: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4585754/]
CHAPTER I: https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4599180/

While there are particular story beats and an overarching conflict, Janus’s agenda, allegiance- and his ultimate fate- are in your collective hands. There may sometimes be options laid out for what Janus’s next action could be but please feel free to make your own suggestions if you have a better idea. Supporting suggestions increases the chance I’ll pick it, but ultimately I’ll use my own discretion when selecting, so make them good ones!]
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On the way back to the others, Sabine tells you the mathematical formula to convert meters into feet. You tell him you already learned it from your early years at schola. He doesn’t say anything else.

Cobbler, Groves and Flayer are standing by Weiss’s Aquila. Cobbler tells you that Grist went to go look for Ulbryn.

“I asked Sabine here about the specific dimensions of the Arvus Lighter, and based on what he said, I’m pretty sure it’s the killer’s craft.”

> “The Pattern IV Arvus Lighter has skids that are sixteen point four feet in length, with eleven point four feet in between them.”

Sabine gives you a knowing look. Flayer nods.

> “Well, that’s gotta be it, then. What do you know about the voidship it docked in, the Breadth of Charity?”

Sabine shrugs.

> “Not very much. It wasn’t in Harvestfall’s orbit when the Machina arrived. Oh-! Wait!”

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>Give Sabine your Shock-Maul.
> “Janus, are you familiar with the concept of unit conversion?”
I feel fucking stupid. I'm used to meters and thought the emperor got rid of the non SI units. Because why would he let such an abomination to scientist everywhere survive.
>> Give Sabine your Shock-Maul.
We should be upgrading our pistol soon anyway, but a copper and his truncheon should always remain as one.
> Give Sabine your Shock-Maul.
Is it going to start talking to us?
>> Give Sabine your Shock-Maul.
We'll have it with us for a while. The Autopistol hasn't exactly impressed Janus, and a fine-tuned Maul could come in handy in some situations, like not accidentally punting suspects into walls when we want them alive. But really I have no idea what this is going to do.

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Hello, This is the Epilogue to my longest quest ( Persona: Moonless) as I wanted to my players some kind of a closure after 16 thread and a few spin offs. I ran said quest for nearly two years and I hate to leave it on some cliffhanger. My players deserve at least some semblance of an ending which I will provide after a very,very lengthy series of 'prompts' which will give you to chance to ask about what happened to x/y...etc.

This is by no means a traditional quest, just some wonky format I haven't tried before. For those who are interested, check the following link:

And if you want to see the Archives of everything related to this quest, let me know first ( it is on discord)


This is it. All the events, the hardships, the ups and downs had let you to thus moment. There is no going back now. The fate of everything and everyone relies on your shoulders.

Johann Fol, A nobody then a Moonlit Hunter and now.... this. You can't believe how fast the months flew by. All the friends you made along the way...All enemies you had to fight...All events culminating to this particular moment. They are starting to roll in the back of your mind like a movie reel. You instinctively asked yourself: What happened? Perhaps you wouldn't be able to answer all of these burning question hidden inside your memories but you are gonna try anyways.

>The *BIG* explain ( recommended to be picked first so the choices down below will be easier to explain)
A quick rundown ( not really quick, will take dozens of +3k posts ) of what happened to Johann and his merry band of Moonlit hunters from 3/23 to 1/6 of the following year. This is a very abridged version, a attempt to condense +50 thread in a few posts so bear with me.

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Was hell of a good time sticking with this to the end.
Godspeed snail. May you eat crunchy leaves
Until next time, anons. Stay safe.
Thanks for running.
Super rushed at the end, but I guess that was the way to finish in 1 thread. Would've been waay long with keeping level of detail of before. Also wtf was that ending, lmao. Ruin jobbed hard he should have slaughtered that super weak team. Shapeless should have maybe rekt Director too, but fuck that bitch idgaf

Overall: 10/10 . As I said Tecig was the key to everything! God ending!

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