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Previous Threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%202nd%20Primarch%20Quest
You are Lieren, Brother of Magnus of Prospero, Son of Wenyan of Nothing and Son of a nameless and distant father, Grand Architect of Long Jia, Head of the ministry of development, Lover of Kanzeon, Grand Master of the Wanderers in the Fog, savior of the oppressed and abused, gentle hearted giant and the nemesis of lords of discord and their servants living or dead.

Having overcome the tribulation forced upon you by the reawakened self titled lord of paradox, Chung Qiang and endured the wrath of Kong Nue, to inspire hop within the heart of the trapped spirit Arianka, you were rescued from the wicked spirit Be'lakor's cowardly blade by the arrival of your creator, your "birth" father, the emperor of mankind and were made to swear an oath of silence of the true nature of chaos and the Empyrean. Being granted the privledge of meeting one of the indomitable warriors spun from your genetic code, you imparted words of wisdom and advice to the Noble Dae-Hyun, the leader of the legion of Adeptus Astartes made in your image.

Returning then to the realm of the living, upon Shangrala, You returned to your duties as architect and researched the use of Yin Qi and devised a new martial style with Kanzeon's assistance. Precise and deadly and able to be utilized by psykerists to depower similarly empowered opponents, you named the new art after the night crane's whose movements its resembled.

Fearing an attack from the tyrants Nityah Sinha and Kamal Kanan, you advised King Long-Jia Jinhai to seek allies in the Bask lands and launch a preemptive and felling strike against the bordering nations of villains.

And so you, Kanzeon, the Brothers of the Panthers, and Feng's new bride Akanksha of the Third tribe of the once Wild Vishnu, marched across the Kang border into the domain of the lord of the desert's night. Equipping your fellow hunters with armor designed after that worn by the Aeldari raiders and weaponry eons more advance than any other upon Shangrala, and warding them in carefully carved and expertly designed Null Denouncement Charms, you began to hunt the Sorcerer Tyrant in his own kingdom.

Striking like lightning falls, you encountered villains and monsters more blackhearted than you had yet encountered, and slaughtered them and tore down their towers while fanning the flames of revolution while spreading the Null Denouncement Script amongst the oppressed masses as you liberated them from their slavemasters. Reaching the Shuni Heartland with Kanzeon alone, you encountered an atrocity beyond any committed in recorded history

Kamal Kanan had converted the populace of the nine most populated and vibrant cities of his kingdom in Magical beasts, and befouled the very land they were constructed upon.

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Calling the vote now. One of the easiest to tally yet! Call it a landslide.

No man who binds another with slave chains may name any free man a brother...:11

Why did you summon me to this city, Nitya?:11

Know this Nitya, I will hear your part but do not have to accept it.: 1

Total votes: 12

The "No man who binds another with slave chains..." wins!

Writing now

Also, just wanna say, been waiting to write Nitya since he offered an alliance in threads 4/5

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I wonder how all our other brother baring Magnus will react to Lieren being nice
>Fulgrim: why yes brother I'm glad you notice? My name or hair is always voluminous! No conditioner needed no sir! *haunty laughter*
>Manus: stfu and no more reps
>Angron: questionable
>Dorn: neutral of suspicious
>Perterabo: as Forn but more so, maybe thinking Lieren is making fun of him
>Alpha Omegon: positively
>11th: ????
Leman: mixed results but probably posative at the end of the day. Would probably want to ride a kirin or drink some of that weak ass Dragon Spit.
>Horus: postatively. Hes bros with all his brothers
>Sanguinius and Vulkin: positively
>Rowboat Gorrila Man: probably might like us while being artistically being unaware of some of his brothers making fun of him?
>Long Dick Johnson: suspicious to all fuck, ass always
>Khan: would immediately demand to have primarch tier horses or a kirin. Would also probably share the secrets to making his family's specialty kumis (fermented horse milk booze)

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The Butcher King's glib and irreverent demeanor draws your ire from its slumber beneath the ice of your gentle snow. Like the sun rising over a frost dusted hill, the brilliance of your fury radiates from you, almost seeming to manifest itself in a shift in the ambient temperature of the city of ancient atrocities. The air thickens, the atmosphere darkening as your struggle to reign the anger drawn from your heart upon hearing Kanzeon insulted and dismissed like she was little more than a painted figure. The rage simmering within, does not boil into killing intent or murderous passion. It settles, and becomes venom upon your scathing tongue.

Your voice breaks the silence, cutting through the tension of two apex predators meeting at the boundary of their respective territories like a bolt of searing plasma. It rumbles, with all the might and fury of a approaching storm, the drumming of thunder the roar of the rain would be as whispers to the livid proclamation that leaves your lips to bury itself into Nitya Sinha's deaf ears. The constant screaming of the Butcher King's city silences, the anarchy of the streetwide brawls, the churning and hissing of strange technology and the buzzing of arcane technology, the wailing sobs of those who have been robbed of their minds and wills all fall silent forced to respect the conviction and truth spoken by a voice that could make the heavens themselves quake and retreat.

With a lash of your arm, the air before you cracks like lighting racing to strike down the villainous.

"No man who binds another with slave chains may name any free man a brother" You roar, maintaining your inner serenity and chilling calm, as Nitya Sinha pivots upon his heels with a warrior's haste. Your eyes, a gift taken from an incarnation of chaos and turned to the endless pursuit of universal prosperity, meet with the cybernetics that have replaced those given to the Butcher King by his mother and father. Every lenses of his multifaceted eyes shrinks, narrowing as he studies you in a wayward and ultimately impotent attempt to mimic your ability to witness the truth of all things upon heaven, earth, the hearts of men or realms beyond such narrow classifications.

You step forward, robes fluttering on the wind like a pair of white jade wings, flashing with azurre and plum as Kanzeon turns her fury into bolstering your presence with her artistic touch. Scenes drawn from the endless war of tyranny and your triumph against villains as vile as the cybernetic abomination standing before you flow freely along its hems and sleeves, showing an animated reenactment of your greatest victories against sinfulness. The Single Lord of the Vishnu turns his eyes to the brand upon your temple, and narrows his eyes, stretching his star metal fingers to an angle no normal man could pull them to.

"No man who bends his will to that of the dark lords of hell may name any virtuous man "Brother" You accusingly scold,

your tone so scathing that Nitya Sinha's neck jolts as if you had physically struck him with the back of your hand. Another step forward, the air becomes electrified with beast's barely restrained murderous impulses that crash against the unmoving mountain of calm rising before you as an impenetrable wall.

"So tell me Butcher King, Where is my beloved's sister, who has helped you become a mockery of the human form?" You speak in a tone as if you were speaking to a misbehaving child, a petty ruffian rather than the butcher lord of a hundred kingdoms "We have come to see if indeed, there is any family yet within this place"

Clenching your hand into a fist so tightly compressed the pressure within could turn coal to diamond, you narrow your eyes and glare into Nitya's inhuman eyes. Another crack of thunder accompanies a skyward whip of your arm, as you throw up your fist like a boisterous brute would.

Nitya Sinha only smirks, and tilts his head as though he were an inquisitive hound, his arms crossed as he remains defiantly silent in the face of your words.

"Why did you summon me to this city, Nitya?" You ask, lowering your arm as The butcher king begins to chuckle, his steel fangs grinding and sawing against each other to summon forth a shower of sparks from his scar crowned mouth.

Steam passes from his lips as he bows his head and nods.

"As expected of a giant, your backbone is made of far sturdier stuff than the rest of the flock. Such conviction! I admire an idealistic man! Far too many upon Shangrala, the rivals you have slain, had allowed the clouds of cynicism to fog their minds" He says, clapping his hands together in mocking praise "Even the Scion of hope could not control himself from imbibing the most dangerous of all poisons, that of confidence and pride! Oh champion of the people, though our beliefs oppose each other, I do honestly admire you! For who upon Shangrala has slain more men than the Incarnation of Prosperity. In truth, I just wanted to meet you, Hangman, as a rival. As the last two with the power to rest control of this world's fate, before we met upon the field of battle as true enemies"

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He pauses and cackles, whirring his fangs as his eyes become alight with a cruel mirth that could only be possessed by a true barbarian

"Thankful! I owe you a debt, oh gentle hearted giant! In your pursuit of tranquility, peace and comfort for all! You have removed the most dangerous obstacles in my path! The whore of flames~! The fool king of the Night~! I will admit, all of the alterations to my form were made to overcome them and you! Of all those who stood in the way of my ambitions, only the Worm of the Bask was not true threat to my destiny" He raves, rambling and preaching as you resist the urge to pull the answer he promised from him with a skull shaking jab to the chin "Only Long-Jia remains as a threat, despite being backed by the power of no god great or small, and thus I am grateful for your intervention Giant. It is a shame, however, that you are no king. You see, I enjoy butchering royalty as much as you enjoy hanging them from trees, to be fed upon by ravens and cranes"

He steps besides you, and glances down at you and the furious Kanzeon.

"I simply wanted to meet you, before our opposing destinies forced us to cross blades. Did you believe this to be a trap, a treacherous deceit? You came in peace, I accepted you as a guest. Though many in my council gnashed their teeth for the chance to claim your head, as the King in Crimson demands, I forbid it" He says closing his eyes "Because, while you are a foe worthy of me, you are the dog of another by your own freewill. I have no doubts that you are the final prize I must claim however"

"I can only claim you in war, in true battle, not a cowardly strike to the back. Whether I slay your guard turned master first, is dependent upon chance. Fate is the salve of fools after all" He says opening his eyes again to witness your reaction "But to answer your question, as I promised I would"

He throws his hands skywards as if reveling in the breeze.

"This, was the city where I met my beloved Avalokiteśvara and was wed to her, bound by oath and by flesh! I had fled from my masters, seeking death in the wilderness! Yet no beast born from the wombs of men or other beasts could strike me down! So I sought a place of curses and devils and walked in the dark places below the world!" He yells, screaming to the heavens "And by divine providence, I came across the beauty long locked away, betrayed by her own children out of fear and wild ambitions. The first true king of the Vishnu. The Iron Goddess of War"

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New York. 1970s. The city is a battleground. Blocks divvied up and patrolled by gangs. They say there’s over 60,000 members all over the city. They rob, vandalize, extort, and above all else, fight with each other. Every gang in unique, every gang seems to have a gimmick, but all of them are vicious. There was rumors that they were planning something, but that plan ended when the so-called ‘Magic Man’ died. That caused a bit of a stirrup, but it’s been settled. The guilty have been punished and the city returns to its usual state of chaos.

However, in chaos there are opportunities to be taken…who’s taking it?


>You’re a soldier in one of the gangs, but you have dreams of greatness. Not just Warchief, but something greater. You want the City itself to bow to you.
>You’re a soldier in one of the gangs, and you want OUT. You’re sick of it all and want to live a normal life. However, you know it’s not as simple as dropping color and walking away. You need to find a way to get the City to save you.
>You’re a civilian and you’re sick of Them. You’re tired of living in fear. Something broke the night their so-called ‘Prophet’ died. This could be your only chance to stop them. Stop them all. You can save the City.
> You Can Dig It. They say Cyrus’ great vision died the night he did. You disagree. You can see it. One gang, one rule, one city. All under control of the the Armies of the Night. The only problem is getting everyone to think it’s possible. But you Believe. The City has Spoken to you.

Takes place after the movie and the Jailbreak comic. Dice is three rolls of d20 best roll plays, 14+ success. Crit fails and crit successes supersede all other rolls. If both happen then both good and bad happens.
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Before the guy knows what's going on, you're on him cutting at his jugular. The blood is messy and a little spurty getting all over the Runner's shirt and your hands. He makes little gasping noises, and at the end the knife actually bends, cheap piece of crap that it is. You finish it off by jamming the blade into the guy's neck.

He goes down, twitches a bit, still making choking noises. Then he goes still.

There's nothing like the lack of movement of a dead body. It's visibly noticeable how still they are. You wipe your hands off on the back of the jacket.

Now, you get the large container of gas off of your back, unscrew the lid on the nozzle, and get to work.

Splashing the wood, pouring down pools at proper places, making sure that this place will go up and go up fast.

Inside you can hear music, and see through windows a mass of these human refuse, most of them are just laying around on couches and chairs, high out of their minds. A few are wrestling with each other. The rest are just hanging around, talking to each other.

None of them notice you or your work. That's good.

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>> Block the entrances. Let them burn.
>Start the fire, and when the Moon Runners get out of the building, you'll be there with the Ace waiting for them. Take down as many as you can. One of them will probably be running with the money you planned to take from the gangs to fund your next attack.
>> Start the fire, and when the Moon Runners get out of the building, you'll be there with the Ace waiting for them. Take down as many as you can. One of them will probably be running with the money you planned to take from the gangs to fund your next attack.
>barricade all exits except for one and hide there for any survivors

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Read the rules: https://pastebin.com/hQMZiGUM
How to play: https://pastebin.com/ehJnx9SL

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

>What is /conqst/?
/conqst/ is a 4Chan story-telling game that is just like Risk but allows you to have more freedom in defining your civilization. By joining this game, you are constantly involved with the drastic changes of the global story through events, new civilizations, strong national strategies, and diplomacy.

>Can I join/Stop playing?
Yes and yes! Read the how to play guide. If there isn't any free territory (shaded in white), 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). If you want to stop playing, just either let me know or stop going to this thread.

>How hard is it to learn how to play this game?
Not too hard. You start with 5 territories as one nation, expand until you can't expand, and choose to either attack, fortify, 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. The how to play guide covers more on all of this.
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We are the steel spiders. We emerged from the violent pot that was the infighting of South Africa, and our armors have seen more battles than you can imagine, Thin Skin.
What do you offer us, you of folks who do not fight? Do you have land to trade? Iron for our weapons? Or do you have knowledge of our enemies?
We would not go as far as to call them enemies, but we do have diplomatic contact with the people of Italy, yes. I am willing to put you in contact with them in exchange for 50 gold.
He was too disheartened by the idea of doing this without a co-qm, and thus has abandoned us since we abandoned him. Forgive us our sins Conqst! Return to us in our time of need!
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Fucking nigger OP

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You are a man in your middle age.
You work as pizza delivery guy in a little town in Virginia.
A night, after you washed your theet, you noticed that the toothpaste have a strange taste. You pass out.

You wake up in a strange basement. You are chained at the wall.
Near you, there are another person, under a blanket, who seem is sleeping.
The basemend is dusty and fearsome.

What do you do (the most voted action will be chosen) ?

1 scream for help
2 remain silent
3 wake up the person under the blanket

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>3 wake up the person under the blanket
>3 wake up the person under the blanket
Ebin :-DD
>wake up the person under the blanket
>2 remain silent

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This Civ Quest is the story of The Serani Coven of the Grand Northern City of Garn’s falls, a busy harbor city seated on the Inari Sea ruled the Grand Doge, an Elected Lord from the of 9 Great Merchant Families of the City. Legend has it that when the great families formed a consortium and officially founded the City over 400 years ago, that Castillus Serani ,founder of House Serani, placed one of the cornerstones of the Doge’s Palace. Known for its secrecy and privacy, it specialized in high quality crafts, enchanted items and reputation for getting forbidden items, operating with extreme ruthlessness and discretion to always get the job done.
It was always only a matter of time before the Coven got overly complacent, before their nemesis, the Crusaders of the Burning Blade, found them. The Crusaders are a well organized and funded militant religious organization, fanatically committed to cause of eliminating all Vampires and foul beasts from the world. They are known to never rest and never show mercy and are committed to using their agents and paladins to ruthlessly exterminate every Vampire in the world.
The great purging of 984 as its known as now happened to be the night of the Elder Council, held every 20 years, being a brief window of time when all the Coven’s Elders are awake and active at the same time, focuses on solving disputes, deciding a strategic direction for the Coven and sanctioning members of the Coven for crimes and misdeeds. While it was happening the rest of the Coven were placed on high alert, using their positions in the city’s population to maintain security and a sense of calm and normalcy
It was mere luck that you sensed the message in your mind from the Elder Council, only able to understand that you are to flee the city and save as many of the Coven as you can, as the Crusaders had somehow found the meeting and were slaughtering the Elders.
You are able to rally the warriors from the City Guard and pass through every major neighborhood in the City, gathering up all the coven vampires and thralls, along with their wagons, horses and supplies you can find.
As the most senior member left alive, you are effectively the leader of the Coven, and knowing that you head to a safehouse, to pick up the final orders of the Coven Elders, written long ago for this exact type of catastrophic event. It seems that the Coven had prepared for this event as you find a massive heavy locked chest that only responds to the password sent in the Elders final messages.
Inside you find a large strongbox with gold and silver coins, you also find a set of instructions, maps and a powerful artifact of the coven.
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>B. You were able to steal some artifacts
>+1 Wealth
>B. You were able to steal some artifacts
>B. You were able to steal some artifacts
B. You were able to steal some artifacts

Time to bail.

Qm please clarify, did the the attack failed or the deception of who was responsible for the attack failed?
Two very important distinctions.
looks like the artifact we stole made rocks fall and everyone die.

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“The initial disruption of druidic spellcasting and Alcad the Studious’ naming of the aspects predates the more modern schism of Zethrym and Alcadnist by several generations. Initially, these groups were given the simple names of “Alchemists” and “Scholars,” respectively; with the group formerly known as the Alchemists dissolving into the Zethrym and Noctians. In this sense, the Zethrym predate the Alcadnists, as the “Scholars” didn’t adopt their more recognizable name until over half of a decade later during a period of resurgence of interest in Alcad’s studies. As Noctians and other fringe groups slowly became obscure, the Zethrym and Alcadnists grew to the giants that we know them as today.”
-Saul Hohenheim, “A History of Magic, Vol. II.”

Welcome back everyone, thanks for the wait. Here’s a list of things to note, with the rules being unchanged otherwise.
>Feel free to write in responses, or add more details to an existing response. They’re mostly meant to be suggestions/jumping off points. You can also ask out-of-character questions whenever you’d like, and receive answers that seem suitable based on your character’s knowledge.
>Combat rules will be posted during the first combat of the thread. Character sheets will be posted then as well, but you can ask for them whenever; either for characters actively in your party, or anyone you’re sufficiently close with.
>I’m going to try to make the art a bit simpler this time, to help post more regularly. I don’t want to sacrifice quality too much though, so the style might be a bit all over the place as it finds its way to a good spot.
Last thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4967030/

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>Keep heading deeper. You had ended up with a breakaway lead, and this was still a competition after all.

surely if we keep digging eventually we'll get out of this mess
>Try heading back up. If you found Murky and her team, they’d definitely get you out of this jam.
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You took a deep breath and kept running; dodging poltergeists and animated furniture that tried to nip at your ankles as you left your two pursuers in the dust. Without turning your head to look back, you knew they weren’t letting up so easily, though; the sounds of them barreling through obstacles not only let you know how close behind they were, but also that they were tough enough to not be slowed down by your average monster.

Eventually, a few floors later, you finally had to take a break. Your twiggy legs were on fire and your heart was pounding with enough force to burst a hole in your chest. You pulled up a mildewy crate to take a seat; the area illuminated by a rather gaping hole in the dungeon’s exterior wall. You had a moment to just sit and think; there was an animated grandfather clock a floor or two above that was keeping the thugs busy, however briefly. You managed to dodge past it before it could hex you, but they weren’t so lucky. It would give you enough time to catch your breath, but not much else.

The whole time, there was a single thought in your mind: who were those guys? You didn’t often see people with Zeth glyphs that were just... in the shape of the Zeth symbol. It would be like wearing a shirt that said “shirt;” a bit redundant. What it did tell you, though, was that they wanted to be identifiable as Zethrym; but not identifiable as individuals. Also, who was V?

You started heading off deeper into the dungeon, only a few floors away from the bottom. Your phone had died a while ago, and holes in the walls were less and less frequent; thankfully, you were able to travel at a slower pace, because running full-tilt through the pitch blackness would be a good way to get yourself injured even more. Especially because of all the weird slime that started showing up all over the floors as soon as you passed the big hole you rested by. It was black, but whenever it caught a tiny stream of light, it reflected a full rainbow of colors; like an oil slick.

With nothing more than the faintest glow from your Zeth glyph to lead the way, you carefully maneuvered through the clocktower dungeon’s lowest, and most dangerous floors. You wanted to get your mind off of things a bit, somehow; while you were walking, you thought about...

>Tamitha Tucker, a girl from your hometown you used to be close with.
>All the people you’d met in the last day or two. The party did help you get into the local social scene pretty fast.
>The upcoming Owlnights dance. You needed to decide on a costume, after all.
>Lenzig and your “apprenticeship.” What could he possibly want from you, or Poya, for that matter?
>Write-in. You had a whole nineteen-ish years to reminisce about.
>Lenzig and your “apprenticeship.” What could he possibly want from you, or Poya, for that matter?
>Lenzig and your “apprenticeship.” What could he possibly want from you, or Poya, for that matter?

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“The Krieger Corp is the life for me,
A gun, bed and funeral for free.
That’s my lot in the Black Company.”

It took the Earth 10 long years to die. Like every planet afflicted by the pervasive sentient plague that swept the galaxy at the turn of the 23rd century, aptly named The Rot, Earth’s demise was slow and agonising at first then violent and sudden by the end. The seas boiled and the air turned to ash in the wake of the continent-shattering orbital bombardments that cleansed her and a hundred other worlds.

20 years later, the dust of the Purification Wars has settled and the surviving xenos empires have finished carving up the remaining colonies of those less fortunate races between them, including those few left from Earth’s initial phase of expansion. Just rewards for the victorious alien’s part in saving the galaxy. The surviving human population, once many billions, now numbers in the mere millions. An entire race of refugees, vagrants and backwater outcasts begging, stealing and labouring as second-class citizens, servants or slaves under uncaring alien masters.

A lifetime of backbreaking work for stale recycled oxygen units and a handful of credits is the best fate most humans can hope for. Little wonder then that the violent but lucrative life of a mercenary holds such appeal. As the novelty of peace wears off and the rival alien nations rattle their sabres once more, human mercenaries are in high demand for their crude effectiveness and affordable prices.

And of all the human mercenary firms, there are none so infamous and so highly sought after as the services of the Black Company…


Twitter: https://twitter.com/BlackCompany666

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No worries man, we'll be waiting!

>there is a program for the incarcerated to shave time off their sentence by catching crocs
Honestly they probably kill more people, and costs more overall due to additional hospital resources spent on injuries than they save on money due to the commuted sentences.
I just like the whole idea of exchanging jail time for beast fighting. It is charmingly archaic.
Are you not entertained?
All good ya bloody legend
I did just reread STV over the last week and i do like BCQ2230 but by the almighty do i love Emile and his brand of honorably stupid with just enough cunning to make the political kniggas think he's just acting the bumbling fool.
can't wait for Furryhargi and it's scalie lord.

You are Flaviana Messore, daughter of an adventurer from Tilea. Your father had led a coup in order to regain his position of power, only to fail and meet his end. You took what men were still loyal to him and fled to the Border Princes. There, you got involved in a blood feud of two noble houses within Myrmidens, the largest state in the Borderlands. After untangling yourself and leaving as soon as you could, you fought orks and shortly there after started a new settlement along the sea. Once you began to settle in, your neighbour a kislevite Prince Pyotr, offered you favourable terms for minerals and to build a road to connect your two domains. As it stands, you are now with him clearing out woods of dangerous creatures, deciding to hunt beastmen, while he will deal with goblins and unknown humans.
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Try acting frightened I guess to make it convincing
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This is a situation. If we fight our settlement will surely be destroyed, so we have to find a way to escape this without bloodshed. Time to see if we can waggle our silver tounge here.

>"My most esteemed Signor... I can assure you that I had no hand in the attempted coup of my late father, and since arriving in this land the most fanatical of my father's followers have died shielding me from those who would do me harm." (A lie of course to protect our soldiers from punishment.)
>"Any punishment of the flesh would therefore not be seen as just, only as uncouth barbarism. Barbarism unfit for the Great City of Miragliano and her citizens."
>"If only words alone could soothe the wounds left by my progenitor, I would speak to you until beyond the End Times for reconciliation. Alas I know such is not the case, so let us instead settle this like Men and Women of Miragliano would. Walk with me, and I shall show you the bounties of this land."

Show the messenger:

>Our horses. A hardy breed that will make for fine Warhorses, given a few seasons their number should grow to sustainable levels and allow for export
>The fine weaponry of Prince Pyotr's smiths, a match for even the weapons used by the City Guard of Miragliano
>The pearls of the fishing villages, a treasure worthy of even the most venerated member of Miragliano

He came here only to bring us to justice, if he instead returns home with treasure and trade he could further his career in Not!Venice. At least that's the line of thought I hope he'll have after this.

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>”Very well, I shall gather my things, though that will take more than an hour.” (Try to buy time for an ingenious plot)
Oh but what will you do to me when you inevitably find me guilty? Please spare me some time to prepare.

i am not sure it could work honestly due to the fact of Miragliano having allies and trade partners, in the two cities that are here with them in the blockade. Both of them our neighbours and that see us a problem.
But honestly i can t think of much else, we are a good strategist and general not a great warrior. And i doubt they are going to allow us inside a ship with weapons or anything else. I am really not sure of the ingenious plot, like what we would do once there ? Convincing them to join us ? Create infighting between the two trading cities and the Miragliano fleet ? Seduce one of the generals/admirals ? Have a duel between our champion and one of their men, for decide our fate ?
Normally attacking them with fishing ships and boats for get in melee is already an assured suicide, even if the distance is short.
>i am not sure it could work honestly due to the fact of Miragliano having allies and trade partners, in the two cities that are here with them in the blockade
I don't think the alliance between Miragliano and Aletburg/Richting is particularly strong. The last demand, the one where we are to end trade and cut diplomatic ties with Pyotr is obviosly not a demand from Miragliano, but is instead from the other two cities and most likely agreed upon to be delivered to us in exchange for their military aid.

The envoy from Miragliano I would guess care little for the politics at play here between us and the two other trade cities, considering he delivered that demand almost nonchalantly. If we can settle our greivances with him I'm almost certain that the other two cities will lose their nerve and back down, especially if Pyotr too shows up to aid us.

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Humanity is a blip. With all our self-importance, we forgot that 10 million years is the blink of an eye in the universe. Most of mankind never believed that just like the dinosaurs were mercilessly snuffed out by a single cosmic event, the cold, unthinking halls of space could end us as well.

Most did not, but you did. You prepared for disaster, and you were rewarded.

2 weeks ago, a massive solar flare passed directly over earth. The resulting electromagnetic disturbances wreaked havoc. Massive electrical storms destroyed cities, nearly every piece of electrical equipment on the planet was rendered inoperable, and billions were left dead.

However, you had advanced notice, only a few hours, but you were able to gather a small group of those you trust, and bunker yourself in a small base you had been building over the last few years.
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Indeed. and dont forget the hydraulic system buses have to open the doors.
Sorry to say, but have to put in a bunch of extra hours at work again today. Everything should clear up tomorrow. Sorry again, thank you for your patience.
Ok qm. Take care.

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Here you stand. It’s a couple hours after midnight. The place? Hawksong, the fringes of the great human-led trading metropolis. You lurk just inside the northeast wall. Just beyond it? The small-but-populous slum which festers upon the wall like a fungal growth, popped and spilling out into the countryside beyond. The call this pustule ‘Goblintown’, and for obvious reasons: it plays host to goblins, orcs, and a smattering of other so-called ‘savage races’ whose presence even cosmopolitan Hawksong sneers down at.

None of that is your concern, though. You are a Reptilian Infiltrator, and you’re not here for goblins and orcs—at least, not primarily. Their ilk could even be useful to you someday, as a lever to help topple the humans from their seat of power in the surface-world of sun-and-starlight. No, you’re here for the parasite hiding deep in the wound.

Your contact, a dragonblood reptilian male by the pseudonym of Roth, has been kidnapped (or worse). The most likely culprit? Lady Zivic—or, rather, a shade of the now-dead noblewoman. She approached you as an all-too-knowledgeable potential-ally, and you informed Roth, who in turn burned her manor to the ground with she and her servants inside.

If only that had been the end of it.

But no. No, Zivic was—is?—an occultist. Her spirit found safe harbour in the shadowy talons of a demon. An incubus, a being of pure ambition, who has been forming pacts and alliances across the city since before you got here. She has conspired against you, turning possible allies into deadly foes. Just this very night, her machinations forced you to slay… Someone special. A useful tool. A potential ally. A lover. Maybe even a friend, someday, if you had more time.

‘Alas, poor Foxy, we knew ye barely at all.’

That voice in your head isn’t madness, but Irinnile the succubus. She (It? You’re not sure if the voluptuous form she assumes in your mindscape is really indicative of any sex or gender or just a projection of the intersecting desires of yourself her initial summoner) is a desire demon as well, but a more biddable one. Her presence within you lends you greater command of darkness, seduction, emotion and thought.

‘Plus, ya’ kinda’ like me, don’t ya’ babe?’

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A post is forthcoming. I just have minor seasonal affective disorder and it screws with my energy levels and motivation this tkme of year. Expect a post late tonight!
You’ve never settled for anything less than mastery since you discovered this concept of ‘dance’, and you aren’t about to begin now. That goes double for Edwin—a plaything of yours isn’t going to undermine your efforts by being slopy or, as he himself terms it, ‘rusty’! It’s not as if he can’t afford the tutoring.

“I actually might know such a person,” he admits, under mild duress.

“Then let’ss go ssee him!” you declare.

As it turns out, it is not a ‘him’, but a ‘her’: a human female of late-middle age. Dame Albacete is apparently the house-mother of a preparatory school for young noblewomen, but also served as a tuyor to young men of similar academies for young men at times. It was in this capacity that she taught Edwin what he knows of formal dance, and it is this connection which he calls upon, when you arrive at her home.

“Ah, yes, I remember you…” she says. “Elaine's son, yes? And… Master Engelson, was it?”

“Just Engel,” he says, reflexively apologetic in tone. “Engelson is the company. It confuses a lot of people.”

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The interior of her home is smaller than that of the Engels or Lord Bianchi, but that is no surprise—you deduce during the course of their conversation that ‘Dame’ is a title of respect more than one of formal nobility, as it is used in this context. Still, once she has had Edwin push some furniture into the corner, a spacious floor-plan allows for a great deal of space to dance.

“You know, those oversized robes are hardly conducive to dancing, Young Master Engel,” Albacete admonishes Edwin. “And do take off your hat in my home, will you?”

“Ah, sorry,” he says, obliging. “This was… Sort of a spur of the moment thing.”

“Well, in future do try to wear something more appropriate.”

“Future?” you ask.

“Why, yes, Miss Rossgard!” she looks at you with a stern expression. “I hope you didn’t think one single lesson would bring the two of you up-to-speed, as it were?”

This is becoming perhaps a bigger commitment than you anticipated or were prepared for… But, for today at least, you are already here, and you will learn what you can. Rather than the two of you dancing, the older woman takes each you and Edwin in-turn into the centre of the floor while the other watches from near the wall. With Edwin, she placed his hand on her hip and the other in her own, and she skillfully guides him in ‘leading the dance as the dominant partner, repeatedly correcting his footwork.

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“Well,” Albacete says an hour-and-a-half later and a little winded by her exertion. “Miss Rossgard, you ARE indeed a quick study. And Young Master Engel, you aren’t quite so rusty as you said!”

Edwin blushes at the praise, but nods his thanks.

“I would suggest coming by here each day until the Tower Gala for lessons, even so!” Dame Albacete reminds you both.

You suppress a frown. You feel you have the basics down—not true mastery, admittedly, but enough to get by. Is that enough? There are so many other things to do before the Gala…

>Agree to this schedule
>Refuse it—this one lesson was enough
>You would really prefer flexible drop-in lessons to such a schedule…

Now that the day’s lesson is done, it is mid-afternoon. Your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten, while your years of conditioning remind you that you have been sadly unproductive at advancing the grand conspiracy of your race.

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>Agree to this schedule
But only if you can keep the track, RQM. We players have no sense of time as proven time and time again in the past.
>You would really prefer flexible drop-in lessons to such a schedule…

>Part company with Edwin for the day—you have work to do!
>See if the Akashic Record can tell you anything about this Albacete.
She seems to either know too much or be a possible Rep in disguise.
If that brings us nothing
>Visit Roth to ask about Albacete and clear your mind by trading human for reptilian company.

Yeah I know we got Bianchi shirin ritual too, but that's not related to our main cause.
>Apologies for missing my own deadline.
Issokay. Hope you're doing better now, QM.

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“It is, of course, needless to describe the function of the Star Dynamo to the Supreme Ruler-”

“Yes, considering the fact I was permitted to study it in my equivalent of grade school, where as you were not prepared for it until at least university, technician.”

“Errmm- umm, yes, your Eminence. However, we have found it prudent to condense all available information for our presentation- if you would give your, erhm, permission?”

The technician fidgets nervously. He's never worked on your staff before, and is a little starstruck. He must be well aware that him and his team is trying your patience. You tap your finger on your desk, allowing him to continue.

“As you know, the Star Dynamo is our race's most revolutionary scientific discovery. It allows the direct transformation of energy into motion. However, unlike with traditional propulsion methods, when the energy from this device is turned off, the momentum it has generated ends as well. As in, a spaceship traveling at 10% the speed of light between two points ceases to move and loses all momentum when the generator ends, where as any common sense would dictate the air molecules inside the craft would combust from the sudden friction, not to mention the untold damage to the astronauts. But this does not happen. This violates the law of inertia and has fundamentally changed our understanding of the universe. How is this possible? There are three theories.”
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This post by qm literally calls him an idiot with poor genes
>134 IQ
>invented plasmatronics without scientific education and still managed to become a scientist once promoted
He has poor genes but he's still explicitely abnormally intelligent for someone with bad genes and low early childhood performance.
The 134 IQ is shown as being put in by the supreme leader himself there, his actual IQ is low but it was probably changed there so if anybody looked at his official records nobody would think anything is wrong, he is just a savant at plasmatronics.
>The truth is that the system works, and as such, you are at a loss as to how this had happened. His gene score's IQ portion had been on the lowest end of passable- not quite meeting the threshold for enforced abortion. He was still never cut out for greatness; though he did shift up a standard deviation when he reached adulthood. Very uncommon- but possible. The Hedgemony's system of assigning people to their roles based on their genes and very-early life performance as children is used because it works- and this is because of the fundamental truth that people are not and have never been born equal. How can an equal society exist when, by all objective means, people aren't capable of being equals?
Look at the image saying actualized IQ, the 92 (higher than what his genes predicted but still below average) was his score as a small kid, 134 is his adult IQ.

I'm now imagining that the young Indigo female actress pictured here married old-age Kinja

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Welcome to the Night Shift, sport

Before we begin, I am really happy that you decided to join us! We really needed a hand and don't worry! Working a :

>Convenience Store
>Gas station
>Mystery Box

is really easy, all you have to do is take care of costumers.. restock supplies maybe cleaning here and there, I'll explain everything.
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Rolled 15 (1d20)

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>and you find a broom pressed against it the door handle.
I'm sure it just happened to fall there by accident.
Rolled 5 (1d20)

lets not die tonight
Sorry guys I want to post but I've been really really busy plus a range ban from out of nowhere, so I can't upload images anymore.
Rolled 1 (1d20)

no werewolf pls

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After the Nine Great Clans united the long-divided lands of Kiyoshu 30 years ago, the empire has entered a golden age of peace and prosperity. However, the will of the samurai lives on! Swordsmen and warriors all around the country still strive for strength and mastery, to compete and reach the very peak of martial skill!

You are Hiroshi Nobuyasu of the Hiroshi Clan, a vassal clan of the Toumi, one of the Nine Great Clans. From a young age, you have been exposed to the way of the sword, trained in the arts of the Toumi School of Swordsmanship. But as fate would have it… You aren’t particularly good at the discipline. In fact, despite your hard work and determination, it would be apt to say that you are rather inept. At best, you are average, no better than some nameless foot soldier. Yet, you are far from discouraged. As one who shows deep passion and appreciation for the blade, your perseverance holds you firm. Never faltering in the face of adversity. Never abandoning the sworn tenets of the samurai.

>My Twitter:

>KismetQM Discord:

>Post Schedule:
I’ll try to post as often as I can, but expect posts to mainly come on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Weekends. If the quest ropes in enough people, I may consider hosting sessions.


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>Nothing, rest up and calm your nerves. You’ll watch the contestants by yourself when the qualifiers start.
The worst thing is to choke up and move through the forms mechanically. This whole training segment has been about letting go and moving naturally.
>Nothing, rest up and calm your nerves. You’ll watch the contestants by yourself when the qualifiers start.
>Nothing, rest up and calm your nerves. You’ll watch the contestants by yourself when the qualifiers start.

Take 'er easy, pard.
>Nothing, rest up and calm your nerves. You’ll watch the contestants by yourself when the qualifiers start.

>Nothing, rest up and calm your nerves. You’ll watch the contestants by yourself when the qualifiers start.


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Ever since the great BIG BOOM in the far off year of 2007, the world has gotten pretty nasty--ruins and mutants litter the desert wasteland all around you, roving bands of warlord kings and factions in all sorts of endless wars. But you don’t mind too much, because:

You are the self-proclaimed KING of the WASTELAND.

>What is your name?
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It was a pleasure to play in this little post apocalypse. Vegetable dudes is really cute. See ya around, QM.
Thanks for the game so far. Looks like we're going full super mario on some bitches.
Thanks for running, really fun quest!
>you lunge toward her
>Mutant "King"
I mean, we are also a king. A lady king, named GIRL the BIG.

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"It's also covered in real gold. They said you can eat it and I tried but it doesn't have any taste. But at least that means you don't have to bother opening them one by one."

Big Mom lifts the chest above her head and tips it over so its contents roll into her gaping mouth. When the last of the chocolate coins rolls into her mouth she slams her piehole shut and starts chewing with a very satisfied smile on her face.
"What a great gift! I like nothing more than sweets and surprises! How did you come up with this?"

"I was just thinking about what I'd like to get."

The big lady leans forward and grabs your body like it was a doll and lifts you up. Unlike Fishy's hand hers are obviously old but not wrinkly due to all the fat and they smell of sugar and perfume, almost like cotton candy. Big Mom then walks over to the giant table obviously meant for her and she sets you down on top of it where an identical but normal sized replica of the table is found with some chairs. She makes you sit in one and pats your head before sitting down herself.

"There there. What a thoughtful young man! Mama-mama!"

"Nice table."

"You like it?"

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>We won't be able to hold the island
Mate there is absolutely 0 chance of us *taking* the damn thing. Hancock may be dumber then a lead filled brick but she is bloody dangerous... Especially to people like Silver who tends to tank hits rather then avoid them.

Did we even get Sandersonia's name? I'll have to reread that bit. Either way there's a lot of opportunity for interesting interactions
I'm almost 100% sure they called each other by name. So even if a formal introduction did not happen Silver did hear it. But I don't remember either

And yeah even if I'm not a huge fan of her COCK is dangerous. I mean have you seen Stampede?
Hell even in the war she manhandles vice-admirals like it's nothing
she fucking cuts through pacifistas with a single kick, she's ridiculous yeah
You don't get to be head bitch of Bitch Island, Queen of bitchdom, ruler of the primal Bitch, /and/ head of the de-dicker department without being bullshit.
silver has a book of gruges exept it's for the ppl who bore him too

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