You are Lorinda de Lindan, princess, weapon autist, and inquisitor-in-training. You’ve joined a secretive organization that hunts Strangers, dangerous people from a dimension known as “Earth,” to stop them before them, and their Cheat Skills wreak havoc across your kingdom.
Recently you’ve infiltrated what is likely the most secure place on the planet, a Stranger’s artificial island filled with technology you can barely comprehend. Or it was secure before you rammed an exploding boat into its metallic walls. You’ve managed to sneak around with the help of your fellow inquisitor-in-training and registered Stranger, Marie Sarodieu. At the same time, the rest of your five-man party is MIA in the sci-fi city you’ve found yourselves in. Currently, you and Marie are fighting for your lives against a female golem while racing to kill the Stranger in his massive skyscraper.
The sound of classical music suddenly reverberated throughout the dimly lit laboratory, Monroe already being wide awake in his tent. Though, as he heard the music, his expression slowly turned shocked. He’d keep listening for some time, before hearing Annie mention what was going on. And after some time of thinking about the implications, he finally decided to get up. He’d quickly dress up and left his tent. Once he left, he saw that some of his Diamond Dogs companions were already quite awake. None of the soldiers even acknowledged his presence, Monroe not caring as he focused on the radio which played the music. “What… what’s with the music?” He asked quietly, to which one of the soldiers responded smugly. “Some good news. One of the scientists responsible for this mess was found dead. Annie’s broadcasting about her now and is gonna give a eulogy soon.” Monroe’s heart skipped a beat, him looking at the radio and back at the men. “Who… who died?” He asked quietly, sounding mildly tense as the rest of the soldiers seemed a bit amused. “Oh, that Mona gal. Her body was found to the east by some Blackstar folks.” Monroe would freeze up for a moment, before nodding understandingly. “I see. And they didn’t kill her?”
Given the somewhat odd questions Monroe asked, the other soldiers would start getting even more amused. “Duh, they found her body. They didn’t kill her. Why, did you want to find her or something? Are you that desperate for a girl?” One of the soldiers said, the others laughing along. Monroe squinted his eyes, before taking a deep breath. “And where is the body being taken? I presume it’s gonna head upstairs for examination?” The other soldiers remained amused, one speaking even more smugly. “Think so, yeah. I take it her being dead won’t stop you from trying to indulge in her a little bit?” The other Diamond Dogs kept on chuckling, Monroe’s hands turning to fists before trying to calm himself.
“I just wanted to maybe see her and question her. She could’ve told us quite a lot about this place, after all.” The other soldiers kept smirking, Monroe clearly hearing their soft mockery and responding in turn. “Of all the groups I had to join. No wonder you morons have never succeeded in hunting a subject, let alone killing one.” In turn, the leader of the group would clear his throat to make his presence known. He was a rather thin yet imposing guy, wearing black combat gear, having silver hair and a mechanical eye implant. He seemed visibly enraged as he looked over at Monroe. “Rich coming from you, given that you’re the most incompetent member of our group. May I remind you of how you fell down that elevator shaft and we had to spend hours saving your worthless ass? That was our biggest mistake by far.” Monroe would try and calm down, before looking a bit away and nodding. “Right, Jack. I am sorry for my little mistake.”
You are <span class="mu-s">Jay Nakamura</span>, an ordinary high school student and boyfriend to Jon Kent—Superboy. Your life took a turn when your friend and fellow Gamorran refugee Azim informed you about Intergang targeting your community. Determined to support Jon and defend your friends, you delved into tech and investigative skills, uncovering chilling truths about Intergang's collaboration with criminal organizations.
With the help of Jon's mother, Lois Lane-Kent of the Daily Planet media group, you gathered evidence on Intergang's operations, revealing connections to international criminal entities. An impromptu rescue mission went awry, leading to your capture alongside Azim and other refugees by Silver Monkey, one of many Chinese criminals collaborating with Intergang, orchestrating the kidnapping of metahumans, seemingly at the behest of the Communist Party of China.
Captured by Silver Monkey and facing certain doom, you were saved by the young and cocky Chinese Super-Man, Kong Kenan, who was conflicted about his role and national duties. Your combined efforts led to questioning Chinese official Zhang Wei, who admitted to reluctantly authorizing dubious operations under pressure from the Chinese government's Ministry of Self-Reliance.
Suspecting his family’s safety was at risk, Zhang reluctantly agreed to defect and testify in exchange for their protection. You embarked on a daring mission to retrieve his family incognito from Hangzhou, relying on your evolving understanding of Chinese language and culture. Amidst tense evasion, you successfully reunited Zhang with his family.
Faced with the challenge of escaping China safely, you considered various options. The best overland route was Bhutran, due to the small nation's neutrality and a remote landscape would provide refuge. However, concerns arose about dealing with Shadowdragon—Bhutran's Prince Savitar, a rogue figure with a complex history toeing the line between national heroism and international villainy.
Your name is known far and wide as the Thrice Blessed Spicy Immortal Emperor who achieved the furthest Realm Beyond Heaven. Your manor grounds extended seven hundred and forty-seven thousand times the length of the universe in each direction from your palace, a distance you could travel in but the span of two steps. Jade beauties assembled in your garden with the grace of seventeen quintillion and three neatly trimmed flowering apple shrubs. You possessed such wealth that gold flowed from your coffers like water in the Euphrates, that purest white jade could be used like a common paving stone.
All of it, meaningless. The endless riches, the infinity of living space, the once delightful naked bosoms of the women who swore to you their endless devotion... in the end, all of that is meaningless. You wanted for nothing, none could oppose you, and with but a thought you shattered through every realm of cultivation and ascended to a divinity that stood beyond divinity. But none of it matters.
You have seen Mount Tai and you have found it wanting.
"I am going on journey," you tell the women serving as your pillows. Yang Li and the ever-youthful Roxanne, the finest jewels of your collection and the most faithful among your women. They alone hold such devotion in their loyal hearts that you need not bind their hearts with the power of the Seventy Third Curse of the Crowing Rooster. One tight and lithe, the other soft and ever-bountiful, both of their hearts belong to you. "I mean to cast my soul upon the wheel of Samsara once more, to a realm that cannot cultivate. I know not when I shall return."
"We shall keep the other women in line, my darling lord~" Yang Li assures you. Her ample bosom presses cradles your head, her golden hair tickling her brow. "Any worthless soul who thinks she can forsake her duties because her master is not about... ufufufu~"
"We'll punish them and send you the memories!" Roxanne chirps from her place upon your lap. Her hair is vibrant as the sky, her body small and lithe compared to Yang Li's bountiful and motherly figure... yet she is no less blessed with womanly beauty. A tomboyish beauty, for sure, but that is your childhood friend's charm. A devious smile curls upon her lips. "I'd bet you'd like that, my sweet canteloupe~ You know how Yang gets when she has someone to punish..."
You laugh. Lesser trophies should kneel to their betters, and you do enjoy the sight of your greatest treasures putting uppity bitches in their place. "I'll look forward to it. Now, my jewels, I'm afraid I must be off to the Lathe of Heaven..." >Rolling 2d100 for your reincarnation >First is for your sex. >1 is Female. 2-40 is Hermaphrodite. 41-100 is Male. >Second is your social position. >Higher is richer, with 1 being extreme poverty and 100 being extreme wealth and power.
Choose the setting >Low fantasy >Isekai fantasy >Dungeonpunk >Urban fantasy >Cyberpunk >Cyberpunk with Cthulhu >Space Age >Space Fantasy
A galaxy full of life, technological and even magical wonders spins on. Empires have risen, war has been waged, vast dark powers have risen up and been struck down. The galaxy seems to be settling down, heading toward a status quo, and yet there is a little time left for the nations of the void to change their fate.
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We're currently full on players! Sorry to anyone who would like to join!
No matter how many times you read the letter, it always hits like a blow from a closed fist – your father is dead, and your sister is missing. The House of Pale now rests upon your shoulders.
That's all the letter says. It's almost funny, how just a few words can bring your entire world crashing down around you. You don't even know who wrote the damn thing, although the letter is marked with the sign of the King's own office. Since the letter arrived this morning, your mind has been a blank. Now this, under the cover of darkness, a further message summoning you to one of the lecture theatres.
Brushing past the cowled servant who brought the unwelcome message, you force a suitably aristocratic sneer onto your face and make your way towards the mysterious rendezvous. You don't quite know what will await you there, but you're determined to meet it with the pride that your noble House once embodied.
Though you've told nobody else about the letter, the other students of Coral House sense your troubles and steer well clear of you as you advance through the darkened hallways with only the guttering flame of a single candle to light your way.
The first thing you see upon arriving at the lecture theatre is the white sheet draped across the main table at the furthest end of the room, and the suggestive shape concealed beneath it. Irrational though it may be, your thoughts leap to the most unsightly of assumptions as you stare at the unblemished white linen. Setting your candle aside and letting the silver moonlight guide you instead, you march down the stairs and reach out to rip away the sheet. Just as your hand brushes against the cloth, though, you sense another presence in the room.
“Young Master Pale,” the man begins, in his deep rumble of a voice.
You turn, studying the tall man with a cautious curiosity. He's dressed well, impeccably in fact, but his skin is a rare sight – as dark as polished mahogany. His hair, just as dark, is tied like bundles of stubby rope, and his face is virtually expressionless. “Isambard is fine,” you reply, after you realise that you've been staring in silence.
“Young Master Pale,” he repeats slowly, mournfully, “My name is Sakhalin. I have been sent to...”
But he pauses here, as if he doesn't quite know why he's here – or as if he's not permitted to tell you.
“Were you the one who sent me this letter?” you demand, waving the crumpled sheet of paper in front of him. He doesn't flinch at your sharp tone, his expression never even wavering.
“Not I,” he answers with a slow shake of his head, “But it was sent with my knowledge. That letter is why I am here.”
Having said this, Sakhalin reaches out and pulls away the sheet to reveal what it was concealing. Not the fresh cadaver of your fevered imagination, but three boxes of varying size. Nothing more.
You sit against a pale oak. From atop this hill, you take calm survey of the few hundred souls gathering in the open valley below. Most of them probably made it through, you thought. The recent hop to this new otherworld took a lot out of you. At least you landed here, on this solemn hill, away from the masses whose lives depended on your power. A small reprieve from the crushing responsibility of shepherdship.
Movement in the wilted grass catches your attention. A slithering, baleful blot of deep purple inched its way towards the gathering crowd. It hardly manages a snail's pace, far flung from its all-devouring cohort to the west. These hops must be wearing you down, your ironclad grip on the Vice loosening bit by sacred bit. You extend your hand over the squirming evil and curl your fingers into a claw. Panic overtakes the blot as your sacred power pulls it through the air and into your open palm. It twists and writhes pointlessly against the only force it truly feared. A stabbing pain shooting through your arm confirms its imprisonment. You turn your palm over and give it a tired look, and your palm stares back. Your eyes are lost for a moment in the impossible depths of the well inlaid into your palm. Subtle whorls churned endlessly along its walls, a sense of vertigo creeping up as you glance closer to the center of the maw. It was near empty, you sense, the morsel you just captured breaking down somewhere deep within. The sharp pain from before settles in, festering in your wrist and chest; a persistent ache that would last until the captured Vice was completely broken down. Truthfully, though, you found the churning pain somewhat calming. A small drop compared to what came before, and surely pales in comparison to what lies ahead. For now, in this moment, on this hill, under this tree, there was peace, paid for with simple pain.
You enjoy the calm for a few moments more until the pressure of reality sets in. Pressure from the west, the ravenous corrupting wave of Vice surging forth, tearing this fresh otherworld to pieces, breaking down existence itself in a mad dash to complete its unholy mission. Pressure from the north, those wayward souls clinging onto life in the wake of the world’s end, in need of a hopper to guide them. Pressure from the east, the Holy Font calling to any shepherds that remained, pulling them inexorably forward. There was no room for complacency anymore, especially not for you.
Last time, on Dragon Ball Tuffle Quest Kai! Gohan went off with Buu, Krillin, Lapis, and Chuu Lee to fix up an ecological catastrophe at Tommy’s old home town. There, they encountered the mothman Leo, son of Mothra, who warned them about a gestalt hive mind of wormlike creatures calling themselves Hulud-Rah. Thankfully, Buu was able to seal the creatures away in a katchin cube, however, it seems that Melanos of the Cell Sentai had some part in the creature’s sudden appearance. Leaving with only vague warnings, Gohan’s group finish their job there and manage to retrieve, to their surprise, a crystal of Dreamstone thanks to the MOGUERA machine they were using to clear the underground fires. Gohan also broaches the idea of assigning some ‘Spirit Detectives’ to help King Yemma out with incidents involving the afterlife. Finally, Buu demonstrates the medicinal skills he’s learned and manages to heal Tommy’s blindness, to the relief of the boy and his adoptive family.
And now, many months have passed since then. Several of Earth’s warriors have been hard at work trying to prepare for some upcoming rescue missions for those who were displaced by Towa and Fu, while also doing what they could to help out with some of the newer issues that have cropped up recently. Has it been enough to prepare everyone for what’s ahead? Good luck, Peppa! Good luck, Gohan! Good luck, Izzy!
Due to your weight and timid nature, you've always been a target for bullies. Everything changes when your father passes away. Unable to afford the rent, you and your mother move back to your father's family manor, a place he had always despised.
Bored one day, you decide to explore the abandoned basement, a dusty, neglected space. By chance, you discover a secret door with a staircase behind it. With some apprehension, you descend the steps and find a narrow tunnel. A black monolith stands at the entrance, with an ethereal, glowing blue handprint that seems to beckon you forward. Compelled, you place your palm on the handprint, close your eyes, and think about:
>Brainwashing others into doing your bidding >Writing people’s names in a notebook to cause their death >Summoning succubi to support you
>What is this? "The Mystery Dungeons 2e" is a text-based role-playing game created to expand on the setting created by the spinoff series, Pokémon Mystery Dungeon. This has no story relation to the first quest, and is its own new story. Players still isekai themselves into the world and become Pokémon, going on adventures with their newfound guild mates! SFW ONLY
>I'd like to participate! Currently, we're at full capacity as far as threads on /qst/ are concerned. However, there's always the chance that space for another player may grow in the future, or that you simply wish to play outside of /qst/ and the quests hosted here. There are other ways to participate, about which you can learn and do here: https://matrix.to/#/#the-mystery-dungeons-2nd-edition:matrix.org
>Okay, now what? After you've read up and familiarized yourself with the rules and setting, be sure to hop into the Element: https://matrix.to/#/#the-mystery-dungeons-2nd-edition:matrix.org. Everything that doesn't involve Main Quests occurs here and is helpful for coordination.
