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https://archived.moe/qst/thread/5191185/ (recommended, includes deleted posts)

With Jim helping you sit up, you attempt to stand, but just as yesterday, your atrophied muscles don't support your weight and the attempt falters. "That's OK, recovery is done in baby steps" says Jim. He guides you through another uneventful round of physical therapy. You notice some distaste in his expression as he tries but largely fails to avoid stepping in the giant puddle of piss, but he doesn't complain. You consider trying to pee on him again, but again, your empty bladder makes it a no go. Upon finishing the exercises he gives a few words of encouragement and leaves.

A short while later another man walks in with a mop and bucket. Somberly, he wrings his mop and sloshes it through the puddle. It's obvious even to you what his profession is. To the best of your recollection you've never met a janitor before. Though he seems to be paying no attention to you, curiosity inspires you to start a conversation.

>Ask him if he enjoys his job and how much he gets paid

>Ask him if piss is his favorite kind of mess to clean up

>Ask him if he wouldn't mind giving you a prostate massage with that nice sturdy mop of his

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Rolled 3 (1d100)

Rolled 65 (1d100)

Rolled 49 (1d100)

Holy shit, the most accurate piss of all.
When we needed him most...
Damn, that's literally a 1 in 100 chance.

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"I think we've been looking at this the wrong way." You say after considering this for a while. "Our opponents are birds. The sky is their battlefield and it would make sense that they would strategize accordingly." Hien's face lights up.

"Then they would see things from the air that we couldn't!" Hien exclaims. He looks up at the clear sky. "We'll have to jump from a higher point if we wish to get the greatest view."

"To the cave's entrance then." You say. "It's the highest we'll get without climbing the stone walls themselves." The two of you make your way back up the grassy path that overlooked the city itself. Taking a deep breath, you center yourself and imagine yourself to lighter than air. There's a small burst of wind around you as leap as high as your legs and send you into the air. Hien rockets alongside you but his speed quickly dies down and he falls behind. You kick off again and again, each one propelling you onward as you defy the winds themselves. You feel the winds hit your face as you soak above the city and for a moment you wonder if this is how all birds feel. Perhaps they felt even more free. Even as you fly through the air, you can still feel the weight of your body as the earth attempts to pull you back down. You look down bellow and see Hien slowly coming to a stop and despite making an impressive height, it's still far beneath you. You feel yourself slowly coming to a halt as well, and you finally decide to look over the ruins before you.

Even at this height, the city is a mess. You can see the bodies dotting the streets all over, and the remains of what used to be homes, and deep scorch marks scarring the city. Could the city ever be restored to it's former glory? Would you even want to live here, knowing what had occured and what was lost? You push aside your emotions for a moment to study the landscape farther, focusing on every detail. Slowly, things come into focus. The burns in the road, the way it scarred the city, even the large remains of pyres that dotted the streets. It was so simple from this view, and impossible to tell from ground level. The city itself was a circle, perfectly constructed to fit the crater atop the mount and perfectly constructed to serve as a ritual circle for anyone with the audacity to use it as such.

You land back on the ground with a quiet 'Thump' and look at Hien. "What did you see?" He asks. "I'm afraid I couldn't get a great view of the city myself."

"The city is the circle." You say quietly. "Every burn, every ruin. It as all used to work as a ritual circle..."

Hien's face grows pale. "T-that...no...The amount of energy to power something like that. It's inconceiveable." He says. "No one sorcerer, not even two, could every manage to conjure up the chi to do something like that."
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Talking. We're not allowed to punch girls with no shields. Writing.
"Tigress, the reason we're all seperated is not by choice. The Sacred Library is gone. Burned to the ground and defiled by a mongolian army. They are the ones threatening China and I think the library was just a sign of things to come. The others don't even know I'm alive and I barely know what happened. The city burned around me while I was busy recovering from healing a young child who was hurt because of a stupid dispute between me and his mother. You don't owe me anything and you hate me for reasons I can never take back or make right. I know I've ruined whatever chances I have but I hope and pray that you aren't like me. Please...was there anything else? Anything!? I can't lose them. I just can't..." You say falling to your knees and gripping your head. Passersby briefly stop to look at your group but you pay them no mind. They didn't, nothing mattered when it came to protecting your loved ones. "They're the only family I have. I just...want to know if they're ok..."

Tigress clenches her fists and grits her teeth. "Thats it? Years of pain and suffering you pushed on people. A punishment you gladly avoided so you didn't have to make things right. For what? So you can remind everyone that you abandoned you first family? So that you can pretend you have any right to talk about worry or compassion. You don't deserve happiness. You never will. I can hope for many things. That you simply die right here. That every night you sleep, you're constantly reminded that everything you think is going well for you is a lie. Just some way, some how you can feel one ounce of misery your existence places upon me and the people around you. But no, it seems your corrupting influence manages to convince everyone otherwise. From the honorless criminals of China to even the son of the Emperor himself. I hate you Tai Lung. From the moment I was adopted and I learned about you, I hated you." Tigress says, her voice cracking and attempting not to break. Even in your tormented state, you can make out the body's reflexive hiccuping as one tries to hold back sobbing. She turns to leave but stops. "The rabbit tried to hide it but there was no mistaking the fear in their eyes. Of what I don't know but it was enough to keep them from sleeping. No amount of bluster could hide the bags under their eyes. Assuming what you said is true, I'd say they've been running in fear with little sleep. From what I cannot say but you should know better than anyone they wouldn't give up any information as to where they were going. They had no bags or travel gear so it's clear they probably weren't eating much either. That or they had been living in the city. Given the fact they tracked me down, I highly doubt it. As for the others, I didn't see them so I have no idea." With that, she begins to leave.
"Wait!" Hien shouts. "Will you not come with us?" He asks. "Together we can present a better case. At the very least, we won't be stopped by every guard should we bring Tai Lung in. I'll not ask for his sake that you help us, your greivences with him seem to extend far beyond what I can do to make any attempts are remedying the situation. However, if this is how you wish to see it, we can use him to convince the noblity the seriousness of the situation. If both a member of the Five and China's greatest criminal both agree that there is something at stake here even they cannot deny something must be done. Even so, some kind of judgement will have to be passed onto Tai Lung. He cannot simply walk in and expect to leave with his crimes unspoken for. Of this, I'll give you no orders to do anything. I simply wish to do what's best for our country."

Tigress pauses for a moment. "No." She says simply.


"I will head to the capital but on my own time. I'm no longer one of the Five and I do things my own way. As I've said before. I have buisness here. Do what you want. It doesn't seem like anyone but me cares anymore." She says and begins to walk away once more.

>What do you do?
>Try and talk to Tigress some more. (About what?)
>Leave. You have to head to the capital.
>Go and try to find Xin. Where would they go if they were afraid? To hide? Or to complete whatever task they had in mind?
>Show Tigress the coin Xin left you. Perhaps in her travels she heard of it.
>Write in.
Spoilers but writing someone who's having their worldview shattered and desperately trying to cling to it is hard without them coming off as a cold heartless asshole. Or maybe it's better they do come off like that.
>Show Tigress the coin Xin left you. Perhaps in her travels she heard of it.
after that.
>Leave. You have to head to the capital.
> Tell Hien that after we make our case to the empress I have to find Xin.

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The morning sun breaks through the ornate window of your tower room. As is your custom, you've been woken by the sunrise, not by some servant informing you of the beginning of the day. You value your privacy after all. And not just yours.

It's been a week since Alys stepped out of the infirmary for good. She never bothered finding her own quarters in the western wing of the castle. Clearly she knew where she wanted to be, as did you. You were surprised that what had grown between you was a fresh experience for her, who always seemed so worldly, but then your father did not keep you cloistered in your own home for most of your life. She never complained, not on the first night, not now. Despite the dire nature of your duties, her closeness keeps you level, there has not been a moment of torturous self doubt like after Avighon. You are reminded of all this as you stir, and gently take the slender yet muscular arm draped across your chest and place it back at the red haired woman's side. She hums lowly and shifts in the bed.

“Will, is it morning already?” She mumbles.

You rise and move to the basin to wash last night off of you. After you rinse the wet from you, you respond. “Sun's out, Alys. Last I checked, that's morning.”

She huffs. “I'm supposed to be the sarcastic one, dear.”

You shrug, placing the cloth you had just used back on the rack next to the washbasin. “Guess you rubbed off on me after all.” Your mind flashes to nearly every night of the last week, leading into soft laughter. “Guess you were bound to, considering.”

A pillow hits your back with negligible force. “Cad.”

“Layabout. You're supposed to do your class this afternoon, remember? I'm sure you can at least get out of bed for that.” Alys has been doing her own class for the aspirants lately. Leaving spycraft and knifework to her own tutors she puts her encyclopedic knowledge of the Empire and it's peoples to work, giving them a crash course on anywhere they might be sent and exactly what to do to not stand out among the locals. Her classes are in the afternoons while the tutelage of your two hires are in the mornings. Friedrich tells you word among the aspirants is they appreciate the break, even if Alys occasionally complains of some of them falling asleep mid-lecture in abject exhaustion.

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>Meet back up with Friedrich and the Knights
I guess it's also good to show that not everything will be as simple as initially thought.
>Meet back up with Friedrich and the Knights
Going to have to finish this one to tomorrow, it's grown a bit.
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There is little to be found in the man's dwelling. Other than a diary. It reflects what he scrawled on the walls. For years of entries it is nothing but the log of a bog standard, if unusually dutiful, lawman many of whom could be found anywhere in the Empire. But many months past, before the demise of Albrecht even, it begins recording the man's misgivings.

5 Summerstide

The new Duke troubles me. His father was ever diligent, attendant to his duties as the bulwark against the savage north. The son is lesser. He cares not for the raiders. Consolidation is his aim, he seeks loyalty and patronage. Independence, even. It does not fit with what I heard of the lad before. Perhaps power inevitably corrupts. I can only hope his responsibilities temper him into a better ruler. Many lords only grow into their roles, after all.

7 Harvestall

I am resolved. The new Duke is not worthy. Villages have begun to burn on the periphery of our territory, not the one or two common isolated incidents but tens of examples. He is unconcerned. Rumor is Caertheon will be in arrears for annual Imperial taxes. No attempt has been made to adjust. Politicians grow fat off the usual avenues of corruption. He is ignorant, or uncaring. But these things might be simply the actions of the unprepared or incompetent. In a word, recoverable.

Yet I have seen the truth of it. The ugly, ugly truth. The women of the keep live in fear. I know not what he does to them, but they seem compelled to follow his every word with the pain evident on their faces. Lady, I have never seen so much anguish. My only consolation is my dear Angie did not live to see, or suffer, such trespasses. I have worked these streets for too many decades to not recognize what is happening there. The Duke is a vile degenerate, and those around him suffer for his lusts.

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The unhinged last passage is punctuated by the man's handwriting becoming an erratic scrawl, the last clustered words ground into the page with unnecessary force. The fury you felt outside the walls fills you again. Truly, is there no depth to which the depravity you are fated to deal with will sink?
Alys notes your disturbed countenance, and abandons her fruitless examination of the rest of the dead man's home. You note she was last holding a small portrait. A man, likely a younger Gehrmain, is happily embracing a comely young woman. The joy apparent even in the simple, likely inexpensive, piece of art turns your stomach into a knot.

She steps to your side. “Will, you look troubled.” She takes your hand as the other still holds the accursed journal. You clench hers in yours, not enough to hurt, but enough to give yourself some comfort.

“When we are done here,” Your voice is a low growl, your rage, your sorrow for this good man wasted, nearly overwhelming. “... we bury this man with the highest honors. At the end of this, I think we will all owe him our lives.”

You stare a hole into the book, almost shaking with the realization of what has been going on here for months and months. Alys leans into you. “We will, my love. We will make all of this right. I need you to be here, all right? Be here with me.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you nod. Placing the dead man's journal into your pack, you finally make the decision to leave. “I'm here, Alys, I'll be anywhere you are if I can help it.” She squeezes your hand.

“I know Will, I know, what now?”

You look at her with determination. “We gather Friedrich and the men. The Duke dies for what he's done. If Alkaign thinks I have overstepped he can execute me himself.”

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>What is a quest?
An interactive story in which the QM (Quest Master, Quester Molester, Queer Masochist) writes and provides the readers with options on how to proceed. Dice may or may not be included due to on-site functionality.

Questionably Useful links:

A collection of guides which may or may not still be active, but can be good for general writing advice to avoid common beginner's traps. Badly in need of renovation.

>Archive of quest reviews: http://pastebin.com/u/QuestReviewsArchive
Worth reading through, because the best way to figure out how a quest might go right or wrong is to see how it's been done before.

>Archiving guide:
Go to http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/requestqstinterface.html
Fill out the request form to archive a thread.
Threads are also automatically archived by other websites, such as archived.moe.

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You ever gonna bring back Collapsing?
Yes, with a system like the one that I am using for The Graverobber's Daughter - heavily based off of Forgotten's.
If this is not Genie, who are they?
Wait I missed some new post apoc civ QMs? Son of a bitch. Last one I knew was Strelok. Those are my favorite civ games...
Here is the insane one I ran, which was really slow and like people had RPG characters.

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You flip through the pages of the same “What If?” history book for what seems like the hundredth time. Seeing if anything catches your eye. You glance to the side, nodding to the tired library worker passing you by. He greets you under his breath with a “Evenin’ Nena,” as he passes. The campus library staff knows you by name. Although you weren’t there much during your college days, you’ve practically worn a spot in the carpet as an alumni now. You sigh again, looking up at the pile of your favorite books. They couldn’t comfort you now. You know you couldn’t keep these, even if you checked them out over and over again. They weren't the same. You miss the highlight marks you made in your books, the loving wear and tear you put into them.

When Mother took them and sold them to a second hand bookstore, the bitch didn’t even give you a cut. Not that you wanted to sell them. You scowl at the thought of her. You argued with her before going into work today - another exhausting day at the indoor waterpark, sweating your tits off. Going into work pissed. Disappointment stacked on disappointment. And then the ultimate disappointment. You graduated with a degree in your passion: English. “Follow your dreams, the money will come,” you told yourself. Because no one else in your family would. Your hobbies were just that to them. Distractions. Not something to sink your degree in.

Money, money, money. Yeah it’s important. “But that’s rich coming from you, Mom. Marrying into money, not finishing your first year of college, working part time jobs to feed your shopping addiction," you whisper to yourself. You glance about the library. You chuckle at yourself, “that time of the night already, huh?” At least you didn't answer yourself.

The first warning signs then appeared. A set of lights turned off, dimming the massive library. Your cue to begin walking out. You check the time on your phone and see it’s almost 11 PM. Not even a call from your folks, despite the time. You’d usually be home from work about 9:30. Living with the parents still.

You grunt, the strain of the shift still hanging on your body as you stand. Your legs ache after standing and pacing around screaming children in the pools. A nice tall chair to sit and watch the swimmers? Fuck that, you get to pace and scan the pool, bitch. And you bet your sweet ass a micromanaging supervisor will be making sure you’re doing the job by the book. Making sure you weren't in the bathroom for too long. You sigh, gathering your books and returning them to their proper space on the shelves.
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>Hard truth. “It’s hard and I’m still coming to grips with it all.”

Well, it is nice that we skipped the early kindred mechanical steps of having to get XP just to learn the basic blood sorceries. It'd be awkward not having any given how fundamental they are to being Tremere. Kinda makes the level of skill in disciplines a bit indistinct if we advance too fast though, it'd be weird for us to be equal with ancilla or better in just a few threads even if we have some sort of special snowflake thing going on.
>>Hard truth. “It’s hard and I’m still coming to grips with it all.”
While you are right, Maxine did mention that the prince was our "grandsire", and being two generations removed from a prince ought to already put us well into the "above average" category
Does it? Socially, sure, but does it actually work that way in lore or mechanics for power? I thought all that would do is make it so we are higher (lower technically) generation, which in V5 just means we have slightly higher Blood Potency.
>Hard truth. “It’s hard and I’m still coming to grips with it all.”

V5 is weird. Lore-wise, a kindred's age is usually the determining factor in their overall strength, as they need the time to become experienced and master disciplines. Still, having a lower generation offers more potential and power, with diablerie existing as a way to sidestep this. Mechanically, though, it's kind of a pain to deal with the ever-increasing penalties for the diminishing returns it provides, while diablerie is so risky and difficult that attempting it is functionally a form of self-mutilation for minimal gain.

On paper, the game is trying to reinforce a high humanity playstyle that discourages "disciplines as superpowers" and emphasizes vampirism as a curse that you don't want. It comes across as "NPCs get the cool sexy vampire stuff, PCs get the sad painful vampire stuff" a lot though.

As for Nena, she has better prospects than thin-bloods, shovelheads, and most other neonates, but that's about it unless she hits the books hard or becomes a cannibal.

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Greetings, Navigators.
Thank you for your cooperation on this mission. What you have accepted is a dangerous mission, your sacrifice will not be taken lightly.
In your submarine, you have been equipped with you the tools you need to recover the lost data. To use these tools simply type your command into the terminal. Once a command has been received, duplicate commands will be ignored.
Be warned, Navigators, damage to the hull will increase the error rate of navigation. If your error rate reaches 30%, your hull will breach and you will fail.
Caroiline@localhost:~$ Status
>Current error rate: 10%
>Wall north: 9 Units
>Wall south: 3.5 Units
>Wall west: 4 Units
>Wall east: 10 Units
>Exact location: 5.0N 5.0E

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>tfw got dumped

Well. Fuck.
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Does this mean you're leaving us?
Don't worry about us too much sweetie, you should focus on yourself first and foremost.
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Oh so OP got dumped then. Oops.
Pardon my behavior, enjoy freedom!

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You see flames. They reach up to the outside of your window, and you rush to close it shut; it is however too late, as in mere moments the room is already alight. The fire spreads from wall to ceiling with frightening speed, until it finally envelops the doorway. You are trapped.
The blazes start to lick at your feet, leaving a few short moments to act before the inferno devours you too. You open your mouth to scream.

Then you wake up.

Or at least, sort of wake up. Your vision is blurry and unfocused, and sounds are muffled like coming through earplugs. You feel sluggish, and efforts to move your limbs are met with some mysterious resistance that nullifies all (admittedly weak) attempts at movement. You realize that you’re lying down on a cold, smooth surface.
As if in response to your wriggling you see two, or maybe three, figures moving to the right and left of you. Perhaps they are saying something, but you are too confused to understand anything.
Most importantly, all of this is happening in a small room flooded with cold, pale artificial light. This is not your room, and while thankfully not on fire, you have absolutely no idea where you are.

>Wait for your senses to return to normal and take in your surroundings.

>Struggle to free yourself from whatever is holding you down.

>Call out for help.

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You finish eating and decide it’s time to see why Amy is so hyped up, besides the coffee.

“Alright, I get it. Let’s go.” You stand up and exit the canteen: you already know where to go, and this time your would-be guide has to hurry after you.

On the way down you even catch sight of a familiar face: Jules, who however greets you only with a “Hey” and a pat on the shoulder as he quickly passes by in the corridor. You have no idea where he’s going.
Amy is still following, still on a caffeine-fueled rant. You may have seen her actually jump up and down at some point.

Once the final flight of stairs is finally descended, the girl is still a few steps behind.

>Wait for her.

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>Wait for her.
>Go knock at the armored door.
If your first language isn't English and you write like this? Keep it up.
>Go to the office door (try to open or knock?)
Lets try to 'force ourself' to be more assertive and confident. If we're telling ourselves we are it might make it easier when we run into something that has fear effects.

Captain Alberico knew that he would die unremembered. After running away from his noble house at the tender age of sixteen, he had spent his meagre allowance on bribing himself into the lower ranks of the Valiant Vagrants, one of the many mercenary regiments under provisional contract with the iron crown. The fact that he had be severed from his noble lineage was so obvious that it didn't bear stating. There was no honor in being a mercenary, and he doubted that anyone in his family would bear to mention his name despite his fast (and profitable) rise to company captain over the last decade. No - even if news of his impending demise reached his family, he was sure that it would be filed to some quiet, unremarkable corner of his father's study to be gazed upon in faint disappointment rather than grief.

However, the disapproval of his family bothered him somewhat less than the fact that none of his beloved men would remember him either. Twenty paces to his left, he watched as a cluster of veteran handgunners convulse and fall as they stepped out of cover briefly to fire at the distant treeline. Like dozens more of his men laying dead in the grass around him, they had been transfixed by a cluster of shimmering disks for little more than an eyeblink. Alberico cursed, fired his powder handgun, and cursed again as he reloaded. He was the one who took the contract earlier that week, and he felt a crushing wave of guilt as he remembered boasting about his pay alongside the rest of his boys as they made brief stay in nearby Pinemoor. At the time, his confidence had seemed justified. The contract was a brief patrol through a rural farming town where there had supposedly been a rash of unexplained disappearances. The bulk of the work - if there was any work to begin with - would be done by the pair of knights that the Vagrants were assigned to accompany. They had certainly seemed competent as they boarded their massive mounts, each a hundred-ton monster of wrought iron and salvaged machine-flesh. Alberico had no doubt they would be more than a match for any brigand band or beast moldering a rural corner of the kingdom.
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Rolled 1 (1d2)

Since I forgot to vote first time, can I give a tiebreaker for
>Salvage the production facility first.
If not, flipping a coin
Oh wait never mind I count 4 votes for the production facility
79s pretty good, hopefully that means we got some templates to go along with the nano forge
tbf tho observer could have also just said "theres a significant risk of a warhead going le big boom" or anything of the sort instead of being straigth up, roll 1 and die, anyhow i see it just as a minor thing. as long as we dont get told stuff like, this option makes you roll but this option auto succedes

>Salvage the production facility first.
We can always make more stuff. We can also break down and rebuild the weapon remains.


>‘Like I’m being microwaved and freeze-dried at the same time.’

You follow it up with a quick introduction of yourself. Secretary Case nods, appearing to take your dry preliminary response in good humour, even if he didn’t so much as throw a small twitch to indicate his tolerance for your reach in platitudes. Tague, however, appears to take your quip with a sigh of disapproval, shaking his head in response to the words you’d chosen for the Secretary’s query.

‘From what we’ve seen from the reports, I consider us fortunate that you’re in a good enough state to tell me that at all. The last two weeks haven’t been exactly uplifting. You waking up has been the best news we’ve had since the asset checklist came back with a serviceable horizon.’

You tilt your head, slightly overwhelmed. Considering a response to Secretary Case, you find your train of thought interrupted by the heavy stomping of feet against concrete, leaning slightly to your left to get a good bead on the source of the noise. At the end of the hall, you make out a plethora of bodies, shoulder-to-shoulder and wall to wall. Specifically, you manage to eye-ball a group that appeared to be headed by an angularly-faced, grey-haired glasses-sporting woman possessing hawk-like eyes and clad in what could be nothing else but a formal uniform belonging to the Eagle Union’s military, the rank indicators pushing beyond what little knowledge you have of your home nation’s hierarchy … but enough to understand that this was no old lady that could be trifled with. Her strides are hurried, urgent, uncaring for the stumbling of a bald, large-nosed male with fat, flounder-like cheeks and two chins that could at times, communicated the illusion of three as he bounced in his messy tie, pants and lab coat, clumsily trudging along like some overgrown whale, his belt buckled but not strapped and his shoes, you realize, had been the source for most of the stomping.

The tags, however, at least indicated that he was someone important enough to be here … whoever he was. The both of them are flanked in the most obvious of security details: berets, sidearms, straps …

‘Secretary Case,’ the woman starts coolly, squaring her shoulders but otherwise throwing up a textbook salute for the Secretary to receive. Case returns the gesture in kind, right as she steps forward, her gaze moving up and down, adjusting her glasses with every movement of her irises. You find yourself stiffening, wondering if—

You’re alive!

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>Curse the manners your grandmother beat into you and help him get to his feet
>Declare that you’re relieved that he’s alive/Hug him
>>Get up on your feet and continue your pursuit of Belfast’s dress hem.

>Help him up, say sorryIgottagofast and move on.

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previous chapters:https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Heretic%20Cultivator%20Quest

You are the peerlessly talented and genius magical beast, Huānliúxuè (欢流血, Happy Bloodshed/ Happy to Shed Blood), who walks the heretical and feared path of ghosts and grudges, being the sole inheritor to both uncorrupted Blood Qi and the primordial legacy of beasts. As the adopted daughter of the Toad Witch Monu, and the grandmaster of the recently named Palace of Natural Laws (宫殿的野生彝宪, Gōngdiàndīyěshēngyíxiàn) sect, you have a great responsibility to bear and many difficult trials ahead if you and your students are too survive in these chaotic times when cultivator fights cultivator.

Having spent the spring tracking down and recruiting three newly awoken magical beasts, The flying executioner Wusheng Siwang (无声死亡, Silent Death), the man eating pack leader Huili (Ash Gale, 灰 䬅), and the bringer of unintended disasters Chuándǎpò (船打破, Ship breaker), you devoted the rest of the spring season in teaching, training, guiding and advising your students be they born with feathers, fur and shell or not. So your sect's disciples rapidly progressed, now following proper cultivation methods and tutored by a genius prodigy like yourself and an accomplished and veteran cultivator like your mother Monu. As Ping and Feiqing left the safety of your underground temple to seek a means to breakthrough their bottleneck, you helped Siwang and Fu create their own laws to follow and form as they saw fit.

Qiang, however surprisingly, showed an aptitude to your law, now blessed with the title of Ruler of the Great Wheel's Law(统治者的这重大轮回法律, Tǒngzhìzhědīzhèzhòngdàlúnhuífǎlǜ), and so, while her fellow disciples diligently trained and meditated on the Orthodox laws they practiced, or experimented with and tested the limits of their own self taught laws, you personally took Qiang down into the Catacombs to train her in holding a court of resentful ghosts.

And while discussing her sorrowful and painful past, you managed to break the wax seal holding in the secrets of the dimensional gourd that had been presented to you just prior to your attack and usurpation against the ghost governor Yin Zhao.

And so master and pupil were both swept away and buried beneath the horde of wealth the prior owner of the storage treasure had kept and carried with him.

Enlisting the aid of several loyal specters, you freed yourself and Qiang from the sea of twinkling trinkets and glittering baubles, and with the aid of the serfs, peasants and lackies of your fiefdom of the unquiet dead, you carried the mysterious treasures from the catacombs and one by one carried them out past the sealed Demon's Head Gate and into the stone courtyard of your subterranean sanctuary.

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However, despite your exhaustion for this rambling, confusing conversation, you cannot stop yourself from answering the desperate, ghoulish mystic kneeling before you and wailing in all the madness it had suffered through its two lives. Your expression twists, perhaps looking pityingly down at the creature as your sense of pride urges you to speak to the strange Jiangshi before departing to face it in the arena prepared for you. You sigh through your nose and shake your head, and lift your chin to look down haughtily at the repugnant ghost past your snout, as your magnificent tail flicks to and fro behind your back. But, you do not show scorn, disdain or contempt for the long dead sage, or even show the barest hint of mockery. You speak scoldingly and sternly, but in the manner of a teacher rather than a heckler.

"Because you see the part, yet you do not see the whole" You coldly but not cruelly lecture, as you turn your eyes towards its own, it falls silent immediately, instinctively listening to the wisdom you offer as any mortal cultivator with any sense would, understandable when one considers your obvious intellectual superiority to it "Blood. Death. Life. Grudges, they are all one and the same"

A smile breaks the mask of quiet, regal disdain you had been trying to ware, as your voice softens as if you were speaking to one of your own disciples, rather than a half mad ghost that has all but admitted to wanting to drink your blood. Your tone does not become affectionate, but it grows warmer none the less.

"Mere parts of a cycle that spins without end, renewing itself along the way" You explain, nodding your head once as the ghost picks at the hairs on its chin in thought.

"The dao" he whispers, brow furrowing and eyes squinting as he realizes what you had realized the moment he began telling you his story of why his sect sought blood Qi and why they adopted blood sorcery and Carmine mysticism the moment it began. You speak your thoughts, without hesitation or remorse for whatever lingering remnants of pride this ghost clings to. With how highly he still thinks of his dead sect, it will no doubt wound him, but there is a chance he'll turn away from the revelation you have lead him to if you do not shove his nose into it forcefully!

"What you have done, is turn a wheel into an arrow and ask yourself why it does not spin" You say, but instead of the forceful, near domineering tone you had meant to speak whilst giving that necessary revelation, you do not raise your voice and even use it harshly. The Jiangshi begins to dramatically pretend and act as if it were weeping, but its sorrow is real. It is just, even as a ghost, its alchemically altered corpse of a body can no longer produce tears to shed. A pang of the pity your tried so hard not to feel, stabs into your heart as you accept that, yes, you do pity this creature and the school it died twice for.

With the weight of trying to repress this empathy, for a reason you do not know yourself, lifted from your shoulders with this acknowledgement, you sigh again and shake your head sadly as the Jiangshi cries out "Were we truly so blind!?"

"But I cannot blame your sect for their folly" You say earnestly, though not comfortingly, you do not try to hide the pity you feel for the wretched ghost before you "because you only saw the other parts of the puzzle after your source was stolen from you, and the demons had already begun to corrupt your new one"

The Carmine mystic ceases its act of crying, and suddenly its eyes open with a renewed vigor and fierceness from the moment you speak of demons and corruption. He grips the bars to his cells with such force, they begin to creak and bend beneath his bone fingers. But, he keeps his composure well enough to not gnash his teeth in fury. An aura of killing intent surrounds him, like the scent of blood that clings to his dried skin. And he remains silent and respectful, despite his growing rage. Was he unaware of the manipulations that lead to his sects downfall? Were they truly so blind and ignorant?

"Nor can I blame your lack of knowledge of us noble magical beasts, as the despicable cultivators had already branded us demons" You continue , allowing your annoyance and offense with his casual disregard for the true nature and ways of your own kind to momentarily seep into your words "In truth, I pity you, for you were misled by both heaven and hell"

"You...you would not be so cruel as to weave such a lie" He snarls, jaw tightly clenched and rat like fangs bared as he holds onto the bars of his prison even more tightly, cracks forming in the metal above and beneath his hands "Nor would you have any reason to. But, if the truth is as you say, then...then"

You ignore his fury and turn your back to him as you make to leave the prison. But you do not leave silently, and turn back to give a parting word.

"Perhaps, if fate is kind, after our fight, you will be reborn as intelligent creature" You say kindly, bowing your head before once more turning away from the now growling and spitting ghost in the cell, who now has a focus and direction for the rage and grudges that he had carried with him into death. A grudge against hell and its inhabitants. A grudge that shall surely prove useful to you soon, which is why you draw it it into your mouth, curl it around your tongue and store it inside of yourself so you may call upon its strength should the need arise. So loud are its howls of anguished, and impotent rage that you are uncertain if it hears the second part of your kind parting words

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You hope, perhaps in vain, that the world is not so cruel as to deny him so petty a boon, that he may redeem his past under your instruction and achieve the destiny that was denied to him and the sect he had once served. But even as you ascend the stairs to head back to the tournament grounds, to fight the very same ghost you now pity, you cannot turn your thoughts away from Blood Sorcery and carmine mysticism. Blood sorcery itself is not inherently evil, though it is certainly macabre and gruesome and you can understand why it would be feared and reviled by the world of cultivation. But, so would be your Ruler of the Great Wheel's Law!

Carmine mysticism however, is twisted and lacking. It offends not only you, but all of the world of the living and the world of the dead. It is an abomination, that, despite the power its practitioner spoke of, you do not see yourself pursuing unless you are backed into a corner from which you cannot escape with your own guile and wits.

"Blood is power" You muse, trying to understand what that means. Its like a koan. There's a deeper meaning and mystery to that declaration than is first apparent. But the mystic who spoke it to you was so addled, the knowledge he freely gave to you that could serve to lead you to understanding Blood as power rather than Blood as life simply do not serve the purpose. If you could know how blood could become power, you would surely find the means to create something better and more acceptable than Carmine mysticism

Take the sullied legacy of the Peerless Sanguine Jade Shrine and remake it in your own image! Prove that you are the one true heir to both blood Qi and Death Qi! At least, for the time being. But, such a dangerous undertaking requires caution and careful planning, lest you fall for the same pitfall that lead the Carmine mystics to their demise and fate of being remembered only as stories to scare children.

Alas, you do not have the time to contemplate such dangerous mysteries or explore the world locked behind the meaning of "Blood is power".

As, even though you have only ascended the steps halfway, you can already hear the crowds of demons shouting your name, eager to see you torn apart or else slaughter your enemy. Your expression and mood sours. You hope you won't have to spend much longer fighting here, even if there is a prize at the end of this tournament for you to claim.


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How do you fight the Carmine Mystic, Huanliuxue?

>Try to end the fight and its misery as quickly as possible, so he may be reborn once again (Martial trial. DC 30. DC Greatly lowered)

>Unleash the Blood Rain, Chaos Mist, driving the already furious sage into a frenzy so it'll be easier to cut him down (Magic trial. DC 65. Failure means you lose control of the demonic art and it spreads to the crowd)

>Greet him cordially and offer to make this fight more of a friendly exhibition bout, and take the chance to learn his techniques before ending the match

>Decide that you can just take the prize yourself, and refuse to play along to the Crow Kings whims and declare this to Baoli-Wuywang himself (Dangerous fight)

>Write in
>>Try to end the fight and its misery as quickly as possible, so he may be reborn once again (Martial trial. DC 30. DC Greatly lowered)

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Last time you decided to bring down the restaurant ‘The Modern Flavor’ that permanently kicked you out by having your own food cart with the same menu right outside and stealing all their clientele. This plan has absolutely no holes and is not not petty at all. Chio, your date that was also prohibited from ever stepping foot inside again, and Crossbill, who was fired as a waitress for stealing stuff (which she did), are part of this too. You have everything you need: the food cart, the ingredients, and the cookware!

Your associates now know that you got the food, so the plan is ready to go underway! Everyone is pleased with each other's efforts, there are smug smiles on everyone’s faces, all determined to make this work.

As you put your apron on, you realize there are two unsolved problems your group needs to address: What shall be the food cart’s name? (Chio is dying to make a sign!) And, how are you going to get clients?

You’re the main cook and will be too busy prepping the food. So it’ll depend on those two to get customers and do whatever other idea you come up with.

What will be the Food Cart’s name?

>The Brimstone Path.
>The Vache Heureusse.
>La Bova Happé.
>Better than the Fat guy’s.
>Nautical Nariko.

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“I’m spending time with you, of course I’m thinking about you.” You think Annette is being really silly right now! Why wouldn’t you think about her if she’s barely awake next to you?

“I betcha it’s nothin’ great, you’re probably judgin’ me ‘cause of how drunk I aaaam and how I can’t keep it tooogether, and how awkward all of this iiiis, and how I can’t get a cluuue and how I should leave you be… And…” Annette starts self-destructively rambling. “…It’s just that I saaaw you and I thought to myself… Annette, why not? Liv’ a little… y’knooow?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t see any reason for me to think all of that.” You think she’s a fairly friendly drunk. Violent drunks like your dad gives some perspective.

“I know I called you dreeeamy, but c’mon… Ya don’t have to pretend. What else could you pooossibly think about me? Amiright?” Annette nudges you.

“Uhm, how about how cute your freckles are?” You point out! Yeah, that works!

“You’re talkin’ about these ugly spots…? Get out of here!” Annette gently pushes away as she laughs. “Thank you for cheeeerin’ me up.”

“No problem.” You feel the need to headpat her, but you know it’ll be too condescending.

“Wanna know what I think ‘bout you?” Annette is giggling already.

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>>“Because I’m worried about you and your wellbeing, Annette.” Be serious about this.
>“Because I’m worried about you and your wellbeing, Annette.” Be serious about this.
>“Because I’m worried about you and your wellbeing, Annette.” Be serious about this.
>“Because I’m worried about you and your wellbeing, Annette.” Be serious about this.

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It is the year 1837, and you’re on a small boat drifting down the Mississippi on its route towards what was once Louisiana. Your only companions on this journey are your pack bulging with supplies and the churning waters of the river. A few years ago you might’ve hitched a ride on a steamboat down to the south, but ever since the Devil’s Grasp encircled Louisiana and Texas two years ago, the only people heading this direction are the insane, heathens, and escaped slaves and criminals. Which begs the question: which are you?
>A father of the Church, excommunicated for the sin of lying with a bride of God and nearly arrested for the false accusation of rape from your former lover. Your faith in the Almighty is still strong, but in your fellow man? Not so much. When the government offered you a new life in exchange for scouting deep into the heart of the Devil’s Grasp, you took the chance readily.
>For most, the Devil’s Grasp was a nightmare, but for Andrew Jackson, in his pondering of the “Indian problem,” it was a godsend. You are of the Muskogee, and once the Devil’s Grasp opened it didn’t take long for the American government to sign the orders for your “relocation”. When your people attempted to resist, almost everyone you knew was slaughtered, and the survivors herded into the Devil’s Grasp, hurt, alone, and utterly lost.
>You were a stage magician and con man playing the role of the negro sorceror in a circus down in Lousiana. And yet, when the Devil’s Grasp opened, the pendant given to you by your grandmother started acting real strange and you found yourself with some real magic of your own. An accident from when you were still experimenting with your new found powers landed you into some real trouble, and you figured the only way to get to the bottom of this was to follow the source of your sorcerous abilities.
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>Tell Mr. White about your pendant
We did come here looking for answers.
>Tell Mr. White about your pendant
>Tell Mr. White about your pendant
>Votes closed
Gonna ever write next action? Would be a shame if this quest died. Weird west campaigns tend to be pretty baller.

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Havent been on 4chan in years and i got a bit nostalgic for some risk games, last I remember playing on /b/ back in 5+ years and this is my first time hosting a game in /qst/ board.
I intend this to be a faster paced game than the usual /conqst/ games made here.

The dice you put in the "options" box for rolling is:

>How to play
Read info/rules on the map pic. You start with 3 territories(t) as one nation, expand until you can't expand, and choose to attack or make alliances. Plain and simple.
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Can someone please host this? I am in no position to because I'm on my phone
You should pick Dark Blue since bongistani picked blue
Nevermind lol
I'm not touching this. This is OP's thread. I'll start a new game in about a week.
The one time I try to play /conqst/...


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Read the rules: https://pastebin.com/hQMZiGUM.
How to play: https://pastebin.com/ehJnx9SL (or the how-to-play gif below)

The dice you put in the "options" box is:

>What is /conqst/?
/conqst/ is a 4Chan story-telling, strategy game that is just like Risk but allows you to have more freedom in defining your civilization. Build your nation on the path that you choose, be it war, economical, benevolence or just plain chaotic. You tell the story of how your nation thrives in this ever-changing world.

>Can I join?
If there's any territory shaded in white, yes. If there isn't any, some players may be nice enough to give you land or allocate a puppet state. If not, then you could wait until the next game (or when I kick out inactive players).

>How hard is it to learn how to play this game?
It's better for you to learn as you go, but its not difficult to play. You start with 5 territories as one nation, expand until you can't expand, and choose to attack, fortify, and/or defend. Plain and simple. You also get +1 attack and +1 defense for every certain amount of territories you own, and gain National Strength (NS) and gold every roll.
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Let peace triumph once and for all!
So that the Sun may Set over a most prosperous world.
>Calling end game
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And so, the four remaining nations of the world have come together to form a grand alliance, with the four leaders overseeing the world as they see fit. After 11 nations have come and go, we shall remember them all for their historical moments.
>The machines of the southeast booted up, but shut down for unknown reasons
>The khanagate, anglers and order of the nine angles vanished for unknown reasons
>The western federation broke up due to the intensity of sandstorms
>Imperio Gorria and Cobalt Legionnaires suffered defeat at the hands of their enemies, creating the downfall of their imperialism.
>The Scroll Keepers and Grandia fell apart after a small union to keep them afloat. Civil war has costed them greatly and gravely.
>Demiau Corp. significantly loss income, and went into bankruptcy
>And lastly, the mighty and neutral alkeneros collapsed in anarchy.
So much history, but we all must move on one day...



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GG dudes, I still haven't finished the map, but I think I will have it ready later tonight or tomorrow.
It's all good dude. Can't wait to see it. We will start voting for a new game tomorrow on Africa Edition.

The Ishimurin is a vessel as large as some islands. It's crew as large as entire cities. But it's purpose is small. Find life compatible to earth's, harvest its genetic coding. Boom Bing Pow. Profit.

But Ishimurain 2039 is not as simple a planet as it seems to the scientists and engineers. It's a world of warring hiveminds. Of a never ending deep ocean.

This is what you are. Spores from a odd world.

This planet is a fierce web of competition and lack of resources. The only things that grow are bacteria, tubes worms, and fungus. But to an outsider the place is alien and dazzling oceanic forest. Many different genomes plentiful upon the planet.

You are adaptable, intelligent, and hardy. But be aware you are only a mere spore. And you might just have some fierce competition among the other stow aways.

《Mutations: Up to one starting mutation.

»DNA Sequencing {You must decipher the odd genetic coding of these creatures. You might be partially compatible with them, but it isn't enough to }
»Adaptive Spore Shell {You learn to encode new proteins, lipids, and saccharides into your cell walls on command.)

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>Donate nutrients to main colony

We previously had the option to regenerate, we should do that.
Alright I'm going to write 3 updates in a row after I get done with my other quest in a couple hours. Yall gotta make a game plan for then because you're going to get a 1D100 roll

I'm going to also update the fighting system and introduce yallz to some big mechanics (just simple stuff starting off.) So be ready ;)
Sorry guys I'm going to suspend the quest for now. I have some things going on I'd like to focus on. They'll take me a year to complete.
Damn, good luck then QM.
Sorry to hear that QM, thanks for telling us. Good luck.

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