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You wake up, groggy, as you regain your senses. Your eyes feel as if they've been pushed to the back of your head, like you're looking through your eye sockets like peepholes. Your body feels heavy, you feel relaxed, and yet your heart feels like a jackhammer. You feel the rope around your torso.

The door opens. In walks a man. A fat ugly shit of a man. He wears only a stained wifebeater and a pair of soiled shorts. He speaks. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't keep you baby".

>I can't
>The police will find out
>Your ugly
>>Your ugly
Your ugly
>Your mom gay.
>I can't
I start looking around the room for a water dispenser. When I wake up I'm thirsty. Also I assume he doesn't know english because I'm not a baby, so I begin saying hello in 700 different languages while I search for water.

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You're Po, and you've been isekai'd to Europe in the 1940's, right in the middle of World War 2. And it's up to you to stop it.

But first of all, who are you sided with?
> Allies (Great Britain, United States, Soviet Union)
> Axis (Germany, Italy, Japan)

What special perk have you been blessed with?
> Cyborg Sync
This grants you a unique degree of control over the system housed within you, allowing you to cultivate your technological powers. You can access and interfere with electromagnetic waves in your surrounding through your antennae, and make powerful, but not yet lethal displays of light and sound with your tummy television, along any other creative uses of your bioelectronics.

> Magic Drum
You've been isekai'd with your signature artifact of immense power, the Magic Drum. Its power only responds to you, and you can spawn it to yourself or despawn it at will. The Magic Drums grants you powers of sound manipulation and teleportation, which you may cultivate and expand upon.

> Noo-Noo
You have a robotic familiar, Noo-Noo, which will obey your every command. It is sentient, and bit mischievous. It is ungodly skilled at stealth and recon, and it communicates in a language that only the two of you understand. Should Noo-noo ever become damaged or destroyed, you can heal him with the power of a Big Hug. You can also magically recall him to your location by asking him to come. Noo-noo can be modified and improved upon by technological means.
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Support. Let's build an army
>Teleport to a nearby human town here near the valley of Po.
And right when the fascist powers needed him most, Po vanished.
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It's not too late to save the future
It's so over bros

Nathan was just an ordinary young man, except for one thing. He was an incel, but not the stereotypical deformed kind. He wanted a wife who saves herself for him and doesn’t sleep around or play mind games on him. He was diagnosed with Asperger’s at the age of 3 and paranoid schizophrenia at 21, and spent much of his time on the internet, lamenting the fall of civilization. He would post often about Judgement Day and how it was near.

And he was right. The millions who engaged in sodomy, promiscuity, and masturbation were slaughtered by the great flood, while Nathan gathered himself, two of each animal, and every grown female virgin in the world.

After months of treacherous voyage, the ship meets the shore of Everest island, which used to be the highest peak in the world. Nathan checks his wives after the flood, as he didn’t have time to examine them.

Noble option: Procreate with them and repopulate the earth
Bastard option: Kill them and end humanity
Coward option: Ignore them and focus on yourself
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I never made a single noise until I was 6 years old, and when I did, I was talking in high school level fluency.
Thanks for running.
that's it ?
I honestly don’t have the time to do multi day campaigns
So you made it on the arc
did you bring two of every kind of insect?

You are Blair Weaver. Mercenary Captain. Dark Flier. Witch. Over the past five years, you’ve been busy making a name for yourself as the leader of the Blackwings, a renowned mercenary company that has seen victory across several fronts of the ongoing Fodlan Unification War. Recently, you and your company were able to enjoy a moment of peace within the walls of Garreg Mach, as you prepared for the inevitable final confrontation with the Adrestian Empire and the Hellwings.

You underwent a questionable “vision quest” that made less sense than you’d hoped for, as well as recruited two new captains to your company. With the Blackwings at full strength once more, Seteth has tasked you with an important mission. You are to lead the opening strike against Derdriu, the Empire’s Capital, by destroying the bridges that serve as a route for supplies and reinforcements. Leading an elite squad of Pegasus Knights, you find yourself now hovering in the air over a village near one of those bridges. A commotion down below has caught your attention and stayed your hand for now.

>Blair Weaver
>Level 44 Seraph Knight (30/100)
HP: 67 (100%)
STR: 31 (50%) +2
MAG: 31 (60%)
DEX: 28 (55%)
SPD: 43 (75%) +2
LCK: 31 (40%)
DEF: 28 (60%) +2
RES: 23 (50%)
CHARM: 33 (55%)

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>A): Cast Bolting on the Belltower where Winona is hiding.
>B:) Delay the attack on Winona to help push back the Demonic Beasts.

>Winged Demonic Beast x3
>Level 44
HP: 90
STR: 37 + 10
DEX: 32
SPD: 39
LUK: 19
DEF: 24
RES: 20
Skills: Darting Blow (+6 SPD when attacking), Renewal (25% HP restored each turn)
>B:) Delay the attack on Winona to help push back the Demonic Beasts.

Well, two more turns till she fires another bolting, right? I think that should give us enough time to help with the demonic beasts, then go smash her.
>B:) Delay the attack on Winona to help push back the Demonic Beasts.
>A): Cast Bolting on the Belltower where Winona is hiding
Our captains can survive one turn. If we hold off, Winona will move and we'll have to do this nonsense all over again.
>A): Cast Bolting on the Belltower where Winona is hiding
Begone bitch.

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>82 and even dubspass with the 55

Or maybe you will learn something of value. As the window only opens inward, there is a considerable dead angle right underneath, and you position yourself to exploit this by pressing closely toward the wall. Bulbmin reacts with confusion, but luckily remains quiet. "What?" There she goes again. "So some guy ran up on him with a Poliwag and then decided to call stronger Pokemon in? That's, like, so lame. If I were going to try that trick I'd at least bring a second Poliwag. What? It is so also the plural! And then it would be like 'Haha, surprise, I said my new Poliwag and never specified there's just the one'." She has to laugh at the idea; an ugly laugh your memory associates with many an indignity. A brief silence follows as she listens to the other person, then: "Four Poliwag? What would be the point? Who wants to blow the money for two perfectly good Pokeballs on waylaying some rando with one Pokemon? Two are enough. I think they become different Pokemon later, but I don't think there's more than two different forms. Hm? Well, idiot or not, Mordo does know his theory. I'd think with how you go pink in the face every time he looks at you you'd pay more attention to what he says." Pause. "Jamie, I have eyes. Hm? I don't know. Yeah, I suppose if I'd taken the bet I would possibly have the cash to spare. What did he get? Really? A Bulbasaur?"

At this point Bulbmin perks up (you can tell by the way his forelimbs straighten against your head), and only your speed in holding his snout shut prevents your disastrous discovery. "Bulblblbl..." You try to stroke his face by way of an apology, and he quiets down. "I suppose it fits. A toady little parasitic growth. What? Oh, oh absolutely. I figured Charmander too." Beat. "Yuri who? That's his actual name?" The next laugh is decidedly less vicious than the usual, but still not at all pleasant. "Heh, Clyde is going to hate that so much. He had like three-houndred riding on a Charmander. But that gives me an idea."

You tend to hate when she gets ideas, at least whenever you are the context. And once again she does not disappoint: "Suppose you guys could actually just come over later. Say you wanted to congratulate him. Yeah, I know, Dad's been insufferable all evening. Got some bike on the cheap and all. So annoying! Well, I better get ready. He'll be back any minute if he knows what's good for him, I can smell dinner already. You get the guys together!"

Continuing to hold Bulbmin's mouth shut, you advance to the door as the feed cuts out with the slamming-shut of the window.

>Ring the doorbell to announce yourself
>Just go inside and right to your room
>Just go inside and talk to Mom
>Go to Sis and call her out

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Opting for ome light small-talk to help calm hearts and minds, you decide to start at the beginning: "I passed the JTE with a B+" Your parents beam at you, Dad smiling through a beard full of brown gravy. "Professor Kirsch toured us around the laboratory; there were two others there. Girl named Shelly, she got a Squirtle." Mom jumps upon an opportunity for gossip: "Mrs Weedler's kid?" You distantly recall that it's the last name of her barber, nodding as you do. "How nice! Did you get along?" - "She was okay. Seemed friendly. But we didn't really talk a lot." Your father congenially winks at you from behind a napkin before helping himself to some rice and passing the gravy boat. But it is Mom who first speaks up: "Well, that's a start. I'm sure you'd make good friends." You're not sure whom she's trying to convince here, and change subject: "Also there was a guy named Yuri. Yuri Benzhegamov, I believe?"

And in a flash Dad looks irate: "Benzhegamov! Must be Piotr's kid. His daddy bought the Mine after the earthslide. Said he wished to develop some kind of factory on the grounds. Then immediately fired fifty men. I hear the whole compound still sits and rots!" Huh. "You know, I went exploring there." - "There? Why?" - "I heard there's Arons there." - "Ah, I recall. Those always were among your faves. But that would be bad news indeed." - "What? Why?" - "See, my boy, Arons, they don't stay small and cute forever. They become... darling?" - "Yes, dear?" - "What do you college types call Stollrak? - "Lairon, dear." - "Right." Dad faces you again: "They become Lairondear." You swear your mother just stifled a laugh at that.

"And you see Lairondear, th-" - "Oh quit it, you!" - "Regretfully." He pauses to shoot her an exaggerated pout, then continues on undeterred: "At any rate, they like to strike sparks with their armor by rushing rocks or each other. Imagine a constant source of sparks in an environment completely caked in coal dust."

Oh. Oh! Your mother's expression darkens again. She clearly doesn't like the idea of you at the mine very much.

>"Someone should really catch at least one for the sake of the town!"
>"I suppose we ought to tell this to the PokeLab!"
>"I suppose we ought to tell this to police!"
>"Bulbmin's going to be big and mighty some day, also! I'm sure they'd get along!"
>Other (Write-in)
>>"Someone should really catch at least one for the sake of the town!"
>"Bulbmin's going to be big and mighty some day, also! I'm sure they'd get along!"
>"Someone should really catch at least one for the sake of the town!"
>"Bulbmin's going to be big and mighty some day, also! I'm sure they'd get along!"
>"Someone should really catch at least one for the sake of the town!"
>"Bulbmin's going to be big and mighty some day, also! I'm sure they'd get along!"

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Everything is cold, dark, and wet. The dim white crystals scattered on the walls and ceilings of this strange place hardly give you enough light to see anything a foot in front of you. And for some godforsaken reason, what feels like melting ice is stuck on your wrists and trapping you from the torso down. With a grunt of exertion though, you break free with surprising ease and take a few groggy, soggy steps to the nearest wall, as if you're using your own body for the first time. You lean back and decide to take a minute to warm up and adjust your eyesight to your surroundings.

"What the hell happened?" You say only to yourself, as you try blowing hot breaths and finding the least wet place to stand over on the wall. With your eyes now fully adjusting to the dark and able to take enough light, you see some interesting things.

To your right, there are dozens of unrecognizable creatures trapped in a large wall of ice, some of which have been partially thawed out, but none of them seem to be alive. In the center of that wall is a large tunnel that something huge had to have melted its way through. Surrounding you are more of those weird shining crystals are embedded in the rock walls and icicles of the cave. And to your left is a dead end, blocked off by a pile of rocks and boulders. With nowhere else to go and not wanting to risk getting trapped under collapsing frost, you head towards the melty ice passage, trying not to kick up too much of the ankle high cold water and risk alerting whoever must've locked you up in here. Whatever you broke, touched or peeked at back in Carpen Laboratories during your personal "unauthorized" tour REALLY pissed off the eggheads if they tossed you in a pit like this. But you're a person with rights and a free will, damnit! They have no authority to treat you like this! So what if you didn't have proper clearance or a scheduled appointment to check it out, they left the window open for you to enter anytime you wanted!

But the first thing you need to focus on is getting the hell out of here. Revenge can come later. You make it straight to the end of the ice tunnel and find yourself at a fork in the road. To the left passage, you can see a brighter light illuminating the way. To the right, you can feel a whisper of warm air lingering in that direction.

You should probably:

>Take the Left Path. Being able to see in here would be a huge bonus and chances are something useful can be found here
>Take the Right Path. Warm air means the exit is close by.
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>You can FLY! Maybe you can find a space station in the upper atmosphere, and work from there!
>Just try to find some sort of shelter tonight, you'll leave the thinking for tomorrow.
I know there a tie right now, but I'll keep voting open for a while longer before calling it off at around 5:00 PM EST, as it's a busy day again
+1 for the tie breaker
Looks like it's time to find somewhere else to stay for the night for now. I'll be writing now, but the update will take a while

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Sing, goddess, the glory of Nikandros Hippomedion, who journeys far from home alongside famed companions to entreat Ilion’s sacred citadel. Sing of the wrath of Menelaus, of the folly of Paris, of Zeus’s plan which even now comes to fulfillment…
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>Look left – Save Teukros, sacrifice yourself. Deianira lives well - if you can believe the promises of the gods.

i don't believe the gods but is best to see our oikos, teukros and sister live, even if we utterly fail.
How do you feed it to him as he kills all of us?
Please sir stop killing us and drink this totally not suspect drink.

And desu the people that revoted for pollux saying he won a contest just totally ignored lesches saying dumb idea multiple times. Acheans weren't supposed to be in the royal palace. And we knew pollux didn't speak ludwins. That's the whole reason we used Teukros and Palamedes as interpreters.
Lesches flat out told us that. In his clarification post.

People just read it and ignored it or didn't read it and then voted for the same dumb stuff.

It was the whole reason I changed my vote. I was the person that pushed the spar so hard until he informed us of key things.
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>>Look left – Save Teukros, sacrifice yourself. Deianira lives well - if you can believe the promises of the gods.

How can man die better: than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods.
Also, remember that we say to the Dioscori that we will give a sacrifice for our sister. We just don't say what type.

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>"Hggh... My ass..."
With a pounding head and an aching behind you jump out of the burning pile of junk metal that only a few seconds ago used to be your prized companion, the STR-K. You wonder why the dozens of safety mechanisms you check and re-check are fully functional every time before you go on a mission didn't activate during the one time in your life you managed to get into an actual accident... Probably the fault of that shitty AI you installed into it last week, you swear command purposefully gave you a busted one just to make your life harder...
>"Aahh... My beautiful boy... how did it come to this..."
As you sob quietly on top of your ex-beloved companion, you rewind back a couple minutes ago in your mind.
You and your... uh... partner, flew your ships, the STR-K and the CC-DA, into orbit to investigate a strange... thing that appeared and... did stuff. Okay you aren't sure EXACTLY what it was, but it was black hole-looking and pulsated weirdly, so it was probably bad. Anyways, you tried shooting it with your ship's plasma beam, as you normally would, and it suddenly started pulsating even stronger aaand... now you're here. Wherever this is.
You could run your son's- I mean your ship's IPS to find out where you are (as long as it's within humanity's intergalactic map, at least), but entering it seems way too dangerous for now. Since you're not suffocating instantly at least you know oxygen won't be a concern.
What will you do?
>Look around
>Run your plugsuit's diagnostics
>Try to call partner using your wrist communicator
>Lay down and cry a bit, maybe it'll help
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*knock knock*
>"Uh, heeey! Sorry to bother you this late at night, but could please-"
>"F-For the last time, we don't want to buy anything! Goodbye!"
>"Wait no! Please- *slam* Grrr..."
You go walk the minuscule town knocking on people's doors, hoping they'll have a spare room they could lent you. As it turns out, they won't even let you ASK for the rooms, shutting the door on your face immediately once they see you.
>"What is WITH these people?? Does everyone on this planet have a stick up their ass or something??"
>"Umm... Maybe it's because you are walking around with all that food on your arms Storkie..."
>"Oh... Right."
Makes sense, if you saw a weird looking stranger knocking on your door holding a bunch of stuff, you'd immediately assume they're there to sell you something that may or may not be a scam.
You approach the only house you haven't visited yet and knock, can't hurt to try I suppose. However, unlike in the other houses, you don't get accosted by some old woman with a nasally voice. You don't get accosted by anyone at all, in fact. You look through the window, it's filled with cobwebs and dust. An abandoned house perhaps?

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Once inside, your partner clears the living room table of its coats of dust with a couple good swipes and blows, and you place your pile of assorted foods on top of it.
However, before you can partake in your delicious feast, you first need some fire! You grab all the pieces of the broken down door and toss them into the fireplace in the corner of the room. Not the best kitchen ever, but it'll do.
>"Mmm, how were you supposed to start a fire again...? If only I had a lighter or something, really wish I hadn't quit smoking right about now... Mmmm! C'mon, girl scout me from the past! Help us out here would you..."
>"Storkie, are you okay...? You're talking to yourself..."
>"Mmm, maybe there's something in one of these other rooms that can help...?"
You walk into the hallway, and then into one of the two adjacent bedrooms. It looks pretty empty, there's only a bed and a couple historical(?) books and novels sitting around on a dusty shelf.
>"Oh, that floorboard looks a bit weird..."
Next to the small bookshelf, you notice a floorboard that looks slightly loose. You grab it with your hand and pull it up, it simply tilts to one side like the lid of a box, exposing a secret compartment under the floor. Ooh, secrets!!
Inside the compartment you find three books that seem different from the other ones you saw. "Rolling: A Guide (For Kids!)", "Through The Color Spectrum: RGB Magic 101" and a dirty brown book with nothing on its cover. You feel kind of dissapointed, it's probably just some more religious nonsense about forest magic or whatever. However, in the corner of the compartment, barely visible through the floorboards, you see a sphere made out of what looks like plastic, with something red and glowy inside. Could it be...? You reach into the hole and pull out not just one, but three of these mysterious objects. Like you suspected, there's something that looks like fire hidden inside the plastic. How is this possible? Not only should the plastic be melting, the fire shouldn't even be able to exist without oxygen or other similar gasses. Anyways, if you throw one of these into the fireplace, that should take care of the fire problem!
...Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to read one of those books before you go to sleep, just to see what these silly locals get up to in their off time. What book would you like to grab?
>Random historical book
>Random novel
>Rolling: A Guide (For Kids!)

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>Through The Color Spectrum: RGB Magic 101
>Mysterious brown book of mystery
>Through The Color Spectrum: RGB Magic 101

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You remove your hand from the last of the vehicles.

At this range, they never had a chance. Four personnel carriers and another infantry support vehicle lie in various states of destruction. Flipped, crushed, smoldering, torn asunder, or any combination.

One soldier cries into the shadowed night, tossed from his turned out position by your flip of his vehicle. He glows white in the thermal vision, one leg twisted back.

“Do we offer surrender in this instance, pilot?”
You question.

“No prisoners.”
Pilot Thea’s response carries a hint of exasperation. Her mind brushes yours in low-sync.

“Because of our relative position?”

“Because we couldn’t carry them, Core. Only room for two in the cockpit. And we are not shuttling around some blue POW.”

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>Request her to find out the state of the rest of the project. Your sisters.
To >>5846118 please.
>Request to be left on. You do not, cannot trust being repaired without your watchful eyes, at least.
>Request her to find out the state of the rest of the project. Your sisters.
>INSIST to be left on. You do not, cannot trust being repaired without your watchful eyes, at least.
>Request her to find out the state of the rest of the project. Your sisters.
No more surprises in our repairs...plus we gotta save our sister's if they need saving
>ping for our malware friend we dumped in all the places way back when. See if it gives us any juicy intel.
>Request to be left on. You do not, cannot trust being repaired without your watchful eyes, at least.
>Request her to find out the state of the rest of the project. Your sisters

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>You are Son Peppa, Son Gohan, and Izumi Mahogany, children of Earth’s heroes, Maple, Goku, Acer, and Chi-chi

>“Canon” has taken a radical shift from the series’ norm, you’re just one part of it, and things could go even further off the rails from here

>Mechanics and character details in the pastebins here:

Peppa: https://pastebin.com/mYj7hCWk

Gohan: https://pastebin.com/P0nMbAxy

Izumi: https://pastebin.com/fXjzXsyb

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Finally you happen upon something that you think might work. It’s in one of the books on healing arts, and according to Darutanias it MIGHT, just might, be the key to healing this thing’s mind. The mannequin demon still lets out one last angry ‘Kowyneh.’ towards him even as he attempts to help you with this.

Okay, he next says it’s a bit of a two-step process. One involves having it being able to reclaim its humanity through excising much of the demonic energies that permeate its body, which should help with its mental state. The next is using that as the basis to bring it into a more human state, instead of being stuck in a body like that. He seems much more interested in that part, but you’re able to keep him focused on this task.

Now, the moment of truth. Setting the sphere down, engraving certain symbols into the sides of it, and having the Majin girls hand you some of the crystals and embedding them into the center of it, you finally step back with your mech, holding its hands out. Now, the declaration: “Yugo… Kaijo… SHOUKAN!”

A light fills the sphere as you pour your power into it, followed by the inhuman screeches you’d heard before, though now they seem more… raw. As if they were no longer being held back by whatever vessel they were contained in. The light that filled the orb is now clouded out with darkness, swirling masses of furious spirits crashing against it. And… cracks start to form. Oh that’s not good.

“I got it.” Shun Shun says nonchalantly, stretching a limb out far and wide to cover the whole thing before you can even get a word of warning out. That proves to be a mistake, as the spirits seem to suddenly jump out from the sphere and into her! “OW! SHIT! GAH!”

“Sister, that was stupid.” Haru Haru remarks dryly, not really concerned.

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While that happens, the light in the sphere returns. The massive shield the mannequin was holding falls and breaks, while the limb containing the Ki absorber changes back into a more normal one, holding a staff. But… the light fades, and it seems to do so prematurely, as the mannequin’s body, while taking on a more humanoid, even feminine appearance, doesn’t become fully human. Instead, the limbs and body structure still look rather doll-like, especially at the joints, but there seems to be more… “life” in it, for lack of a better term. There’s a structure at the head now that resembles hair, and more of a proper, and expressive face. The body of the mannequin falls to its knees, at first attempting to pant in exhaustion, only to realize she… can’t really breathe. There’s an initial bout of panic, but she calms a bit as she looks out the clear part of the orb. Her head tilts curiously.

A voice, feminine, cautious, and both spoken and broadcast psychically, calls to you questioningly, “Serwehyeti…?”

Ah. Language barrier, still. She also looks really confused.

‘Well, you were right. It seems to still require some fine-tuning.’ Darutanias says nonchalantly.

>A. Just show her you mean no harm, even if she can’t comprehend you completely
>B. Should we try again, see if we can get her healed all the way?
>C. Okay your turn Darutanias, come on, let’s get ya fixed!
>D. We should get her out of here first, ask someone who can teleport to bring her over to Melchior, he’d know how to communicate with her better
>E. Something else?

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>C. Okay your turn Darutanias, come on, let’s get ya fixed!
Thanks for running.

>B. Should we try again, see if we can get her healed all the way?
Rather not leave her in this half-life state...
>D. We should get her out of here first, ask someone who can teleport to bring her over to Melchior, he’d know how to communicate with her better
>Now, the declaration: “Yugo… Kaijo… SHOUKAN!”
Yūgō janai, Yugo da!

>A. De-mech. Hug!
>E. "Happy, joy-py, nice-to-meetcha-py!"

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Your name is Max Montagu and you live on Level 5. Most people live in the industrial sector of Panopolis after all, it's the biggest part of the city. Currently, you are in the DeliDiner, your favorite restaurant chain of reprocessed footstuffs. The RedMeat Sandwiches here are the best and taste the most fresh, so you love to spend afternoons just relaxing.

Currently? You're obsessed with the Heroes Franchise- The multimedia collections of stories of larger then life characters. There's Alisa the Huntress- hunting down soldiers from an evil kingdom with nothing but a bow and arrow after her tribe was burned and raided. Or Baron the Shield- a sci-fi world with feral insectoid monsters who are immune to laser weapons and stronger then any man- and so Baron took up a shield and hammer to fight them back. Or the tales of Peter Vance, the Healer, who tragically contracts a magic plague even as he battles it to save other people from it...

These Heroes aren't real, but their stories and tales inspire you. You've seen films and played games featuring them, and like roleplaying games. You even make your own paper crafts and cosplay- though you're a bit limited on what you can get from the UpCycling Stations found around Level 5. You did get this nice pair of scissors though- still sharp- and have been using it to cut up some paper and make origami for your solo-roleplaying session here at the diner.

“Excuse me, Tyler is that- oh, I'm sorry.”
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>Trip or trick them
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>Trip or trick them.
One good thing about Tonfas is it allows a reverse grip - check picrel on how it's relevant
>>Trip or trick them
>Trip or trick them
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When it comes to physical combat- size is going to be a big component. You aren't a short little guy either, but you aren't the biggest. And against someone bigger then you, any edge will be crucial.

Of course, you have practiced with your tonfas enough to know a few tricks. You smack the smaller of the pair with your weapon enough to stun, then knock him down. Reversing your grip on one of your batons, you slink low to grab around the big man's ankles and pull hard to knock him off balance. He falls to the ground and you follow up with a smash to the chest- stunning him enough that he has to concede and give up. The two are momentarily fazed- enough that Nathan can easily escape now. You hold your club up to make the defeated criminals flinch.

"Don't ever take anyone's UBI money again, understand?" They don't say anything but look afraid- afraid enough that they won't try this again.

You make your leave- but not before Nathan speaks to you.

"W-What was that for? Why are you helping me... how much do you want?"

>Give him a quip and then leave
>Say something heroic and then leave
>Don't say anything

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In the last thread, you created the universe! This resulted in many events some good, some bad, some ugly. The downfall of tyrannical empires, crucifixions, bizarre court cases, and the infinite misery of children!
And now that you're about to wake up from your long, divine slumber, only more of these events await you...
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You decide to go talk to Nothing next. She's looking over her creation to make sure everything is right.
"Hello, Father." She says.
>Go do something else
>How do you call this one dear?
>Reward her with an ORB of pure nothingness that she can toy around it. Both for her digilent work on the planets and because she literally saved our life
>Hug daughter
Agreed, she deserves an ORB of the most spherical proportions
(Am settling down for bed. More updates tomorrow!)
>go check if the soul we stuffed into the archthrone is purple

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It is 2XXX, and a war rages between the armies of flesh, and the armies of steel, and those in the middle.. and you are an agent of a once glorious empire.
As the hovership crashed down, Lee Fang let out a little cheer. "They're down!" your companion said.
"But not out" you reply, turning around the ATV. As the vehicle was parked behind a rock, you and Lee Fang could see the yardies crawling out of the crashed salvage craft, with the intent to get it into functioning order.

The salvage craft was being seen to by a half dozen yardies. Half of them are armed, and it seems one of the turrets is functional and on the lookout. A single yardie stands above his compatriots. Some kind of glass is embedded in his head, in the shape of a cone. Judging by his stature, and the silent attention of the other yardies marks him as a leader. However, a small hatch in the side of the hovercraft marks it as an accesspoint to the reactor.

"We need to make sure," You say,"They might be joining the other yardies at the point."
"So we caught the reinforcements?" Lee chimes in.
"Guess, so. Here's what we're going to do..."

>Write in.
9 replies omitted. Click here to view.
Rolled 9, 12, 7, 2, 10, 12 = 52 (6d12)

Woops, sorry for the unannounced hiatus. Holidays and internet problems.
Very well.

...the plasma hits, knocking the leader off his feet.
The armed Yardies scramble towards your direction, the turret Yardie revs up his weapon, and the repair Yardies go to help their leader.

Rolling for initiative:
Lee Fang

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Attack the turret Yardie.
Rolled 6 + 3 (1d10 + 3)

Order of initiative:
Lee Fang
Salvage Craft Turret
Repair Yardies
Yardie Leader Wounds (2/3) and Shaken
Guard Yardies

Considering you all in combat control both of the agents, I'll roll for it. It is fairly far though. (-4)
Rolled 5, 1, 4 = 10 (3d6)

Rolling additional dice.
(Wait, so dice+1d10+3d6 doesn't work?)
Rolled 4 (1d10)

apprently not

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Awareness awashed you, rousing you at the very heart of an omnipresent darkness. A languid light appeared from the void, slowly dissolving the curtains of blackness coating the things it hid like a varnish, the sights and tangibles appearing from within it sketched by rich watercolours and buttery brushstrokes. Waves of softened colours crashed against a sky of finely crushed glass, expanding with each surge, reaching higher and higher. Amidst the watered crescendo of colours, a blinding warmth bathed you: the cloudless noon sun hung above your head with its judgemental reckoning, akin to a God’s eyes scrutinising the drawn world below—or maybe, only you alone.

Sundry shapes and overflowing forms came from the banished gloom, drifting closer, like a scattering wind with crushed chalks of all hues within. Wooden facades, stone houses, spires of chapels, and leafy trees solidified around cobblestone streets—each of them absorbed and reflected the burgeoning light, like oil painting coming to life. Figures of people, too, emerged from the drifting rainbow mist. Dressed in fabrics and denims imbued with otherwordly dyes, their contours and faces smudged and rubbed, they moved about, as if it wasn’t them who stepped out of the shadows, but rather, they were always there, only needing some backlight.

When the colours sealed the circle of darkness encircling you, you found yourself still, much smaller in stature. There, right before you, walked a horse, its coat such a deep obsidian black not even the sun cold highlight it. Its mane, equally as black, laid motionless across its broad shoulders. The empty pits of the stallion’s eyes promised to show you the abyss … were you to dare to look inside. Your hands appeared second to last, reaching for another’s sidearm holster with a glistening pearl-handled revolver inside of it. A broad weathered hand grabbed your wrist, painfully tightening the hold. A cowboy rider sat in the saddle with a silver-streaked beard, his eyes as vacant as the cold metal of unlit lantern.

“You want it?” He pulled the iron from its holster in one clean draw.
51 replies omitted. Click here to view.
>Set your sights on the chest, the more expansive mark. Amidst the multitude of vital organs there, you are bound to strike one.

You hoisted the iron, taking aim on the more youthful you within shooting range. The short barrel slid out of the holster, its brass sights reflecting a red hue under the eclipsing sunlight. With a briefest delay, the bounty hunter mirrored you, drawing his own iron. Your gun went off first—two of your fingers steadying the barrel—the bullet cutting a hissing path through the wavering mirage, leaving behind a swirling smoke trail and an echoing blast. The rider clutched his chest before any of his blood could spill. Stepping forth to regain his balance, the bounty hunter, too, pulled the trigger, his shot’s thunderous roar drowning out the one you fashioned, the burnt gunpowder shrouding him in ghostly haze.

His bullet, like a lead shooting star, blazed through the mist, tearing into your flesh and piercing through your heart, a metallic taste biting your taste buds. You stumbled, the killing pain gnawing at your consciousness and numbing your senses; the iron slipped from your grip, sinking into the sand moments before you followed it. The bounty hunter, now a blur in your fading vision, remained motionless, a gun in hand.

You struck a fatal shot, you reckoned, and you did it first, but he returned the favour in his final breaths.

You didn’t remember being so petty.

Shadows engulfed the frontier town and its surroundings like ink spilling over an unfinished letter, plunging you into an ocean of darkness. You had slain your own shadowy metaphor: wasn’t that enough? Of the outlaws you’d killed, how many had guns? No more than a dozen. And of those, even fewer had their weapons within reach or in hand. It was a foolhardy gamble you’d get to be one of them again, and the eclipse outpaced the count of those you ended, whatever that signified.

You drew a tired breath as a fresh image emerged from the pitch-black backdrop, shadows sliding off the oak-panelled walls and floorboards, then peeling away from the cracked red paint and the wool rug. The room was dominated by a table so twisted only a drunkard could perceive as round, its sides originally carved unevenly and also worn with fractures and age. It surface bore the scars of knife marks, burns from cigarettes, and stains with whiskey bottle rings. Outlaws, each showing off a different style of hat, sat on mismatched chairs with frayed upholstery, all three of them faceless, their features obscured by a pale pink splatter that smudged their eyes, noses, and mouths. You felt stuffed leather below your backside once the shadows receded to allow you to acclimate the unfamiliar body.
Daylight filtered through the room from a lone window, thick grimy curtains obscuring much of the glass. The room was suffused with unnatural, scorching shadows, the pungent stale air swirling with embered dust, making your skin sweat and singeing your nostrils. A chimney stack clung to one wall like a pillar, but it was cold, not the culprit of the heat. The men around you ceased their consternation mid-sentence, but you couldn’t piece the cut words into any coherent sentence.

Someone knocked on the door …

> Ask for a firearm from one of the men, noting your current lack of armament, and then discharge a few shoots at the door.
> Tell the men to flank the door on both sides, ensuring none stand directly in front of it, and then bide your time, awaiting the utterance or action of the one who knocked it.
> Seize a pistol from one of the men's grasp, and, using the opportune moment, make your escape through the window and out of the room.
> [Write In]
>Ask the other outlaws what they know, or think they know, about the afterlife
>Stay calm, for this too shall pass.
>> Tell the men to flank the door on both sides, ensuring none stand directly in front of it, and then bide your time, awaiting the utterance or action of the one who knocked it.

You are slime. Slime life is simple. Easy. Sit in glass jar. Food comes in. Other slimes in other jars. Food goes into them. Pale bone slime giants bring food. Good servants. Good life. Easy. Dark. Light. Food. Dark. Light. Food.

Less slimes in other jars. Less food. Jars vanishing. Pale bone slimes moving faster. Loud noises. Red slime in pale bone slime? Pale bone slimes fighting? One pale bone slime very still now. Dark. Still dark. Hungry. Very hungry!

Pale bone slime back! Bring food? Picked up? Food now?

Thrown! Jar broken! Pale bone slime gone, but still pale bone slime here...and hungry. You start with furry part of pale bone slime, always wondered about fur taste. Not taste very good. Bone hard. Grey slime in pale slime good though. Very good...but now you feel...

Odd? Better eat more.

Very odd...

Should you be feeling like this? Should you even be capable of asking that question? You focus on the...corpse. The human corpse. Didn't you used to use a different word? You...really feel strange. You look around the room. Tables. Ma... machines? A corpse, it's head partially resolved, the inside cleaned of brain matter. Another jar on the table opposite of you, a dessicated slime inside. A fallen...brother?

You are a slime, and you are far smarter than you have any right to be. And you feel...

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353 replies and 40 images omitted. Click here to view.
Last is a sort rat thing that burrows in and out of the heap, hauling bits of debris down tunnels. A long blade like tail trails behind it, more than once you watch the rat saw a larger object in two with it before taking both down a tunnel.

> Robo Crab
> Sad Mushroom
> Blade Rat
> Just scavenge and chill
> Sad Mushroom
You know what we can get with his spores? ELECTRIC SPORE POWDER
> Robo Crab
>Blade Rat
>> Robo Crab

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