Your name is (write in), and at only 25 years old you are the best and highest-paid football player in the world. There’s still a long road ahead before you’re widely considered the GOAT, but deep down that’s already your reality — just another fact. With your recent achievement of a fifth ring and another MVP, even the most stubborn critics accept that, at your current pace, your coronation is inevitable. Your idol Tom Brady can only watch as you reach his numbers at lightning speed. He respects you, admires you, and says that in five years there won’t be any serious debate left — you’ll be crowned while still in your prime. Your impact on football is something incredibly rare in the world of sports. Hopefully nothing bad happens to you before that.
…
Taiwman, late February.
You’ve been celebrating the championship for days in a nonstop party. You landed your private jet here, loaded with rich friends and wild girls, so you can all enjoy the new futuristic district filled with robots, super-drugs, and flying cars.
Your best friend is:
>Raptor, a punk pornstar with a split tongue and a very intense palate. She loves vampires and knows everything about dinosaurs. >Fugaku, a professional ping-pong player who also carves swords into bamboo for fun. >Alexey, a blind Russian singer who jokes about how easy life would be if he had telekinetic powers. >Julian, a Mexican running back who loves insects.
You’re invited to the magnetic bullet train — the kind where passengers can’t feel any acceleration — by a cute Chinese girl,
>Zhang, who has a dragon tattoo on her back >Mei Mei, who has a demon tattoo between her breasts >Khadija, who has no tattoos and wears a hijab and in a sudden wave of horniness, you rent the entire train to throw a party with all your tourist friends.
Your phone rings. It’s Tom Brady himself, calling your personal number!
Your nap is a fitful, restless thing, filled with nightmares and feverish dreams that you lose memory of quickly even though they trouble you greatly and prevent you from waking up energized and bright eyed. When you do wake up, your elder sister is sitting over you with a warm smile on her ghostly, frost flecked fur. And for a moment you wonder how much of your recent memories were a dream, before sensing withing yourself the power and technique that proves that most of them were in fact real.
"Did the spiders enjoy my bouquet of bone and meat?" You ask tiredly, fluttering your eyes as you sit up and lazily lick the back of your paw as you sister, who isn't shy about showing her distaste for your method of bribery and payment clicks her teeth and whines irritatedly
"Oh they were overjoyed by the delicacy of your flesh sister, and after I managed to convince them to try your...fruit, they found it most pleasing to their monstrous palate. In fact, they found it so tasty and spiritually rich and potent, they nearly abstained from eating your guts and limbs entirely" She told you, grimacing as she looked away "Did..did you have to slice of your breasts along with your thighs"
"Fatty meat is the most succulent and delectable" You answered with a sneer "Besides, both grew back as readily as any other part of me I cut off. It was the arms and legs that took the most energy and effort to sprout again"
"I really hope you aren't becoming like that mushroom girl or her family. You're a cat, not a rose bush" Xuebai hissed and you laughed
"I am Huanliuxue and I can be whatever I choose or aspire to be!" You declare loudly "But I'm glad the spider demons accepted my payment and..."
"They've given you an extra visits worth of protection, they were so pleased. Though, the way they devoured the fruits to their pits, makes me worry they might try and plant you in their garden as a permanent guest" She cuts you off, eyes sharp and icy
"Well, at least they're right minded enough to know to properly admired and nurture one as magnificent and beautiful as I" You brush off that actually somewhat disturbing thought of being potted like an orchid flower "And what generosity to extend the warranty of this red string wrapped tightly around my finger"
"They're making cat meat preserved in bloody wine in that manor over the refuse pit they live in"
"Must be a lovely vintage, always wondered how I'd taste pickled" You snicker, delighting in the sickened and nauseas look that crosses over your sisters face "Oh lighten up, I'd pay them in kind and eat them if I had the chance"
The president put on the ceremonial gowns, now knowing the terrible conventions of society. A forbidden fruit, offered to her by subordinates and friends, that which they all deemed an essential part of youth; the what to say, the what not to say; the great secrets of seduction; the three gazes of the man-eating leopard; “The height of skirt that melts the inexperienced virgin”. And she endured it all, like a woman. She endured to have them play with her, as if a rag or some mauled doll; only by the time they began to imply that the size of a bag was perspectively proportional to the osseous width of her body, she had already ran out of patience. And with the skirt, and the blouse, the inconspicuous accessory and the invincible bow of black hair, victory was served with imminence, and tremendous prematurity.
As the lead of the Paranormal Investigation Club, she was in labour of solving mysteries in the company of her most trusted. Who hasn’t heard yet about the rapist of human souls, the phantom on the staircase, or the not single instance when the devil went and took the farmer's cows for a dance? After that, and many other adventures together; seemingly united, in their hearts she earned a deep place with her pure merit. And this time it was their turn to prepare her with the ubiquitous knowledge, to face the unknown, and perhaps even… to scare her fears. Trembled the world when the day came,
Surely, long had spilled been the tea; and yet, in shame, a single drop lied and dared not to be spit. She, and she alone knew; thoughtless, truly thoughtless the compromise had been conceived. Upon their first and only conversation she was met with a sudden and unknown boiling emotion. She couldn't admit; the temptation was too much to bear. From the pure desire to partake in that which impossible is, agreed they to meet the next Sunday, despite knowing her she lived in the neighboring city. And even then, prepared and committed, without respect for distance, without fear, she departed on the afternoon, towards a station lost in time, lost from reason, all so she could ever meet with him... the next morning.
- <span class="mu-r"><span class="mu-s">The Hairy Hand</span> is a quest ruled by contradiction of wills and whims The President has towards all gruesome realities awaiting. Survival is doubtful, and physical integrity is never assured; bad decisions are ultimate.
Players can cumulatively pick a maximum of 3 choices, once 3 different courses of action are picked, no alternatives can be proposed nor votes. Actions are taken upon popular vote, effected at irregular, arbitrary and unforgiving times. Small and menial actions may be taken by individuals at times; affecting or not the outcome of an encounter. The whims of a few may just suffice to change The President's fate. </span>
One day, you suddenly find yourself groggily waking up in a WAYFISH world of WIZERDS that live under the eyes of the WUNDERWURM. Seems like a cozy room... Maybe a bit too cozy. You're not here by complete accident. You've done your research on the WIZERDS. You've done your homework for the WUNDERWURM. And you're definitely starting to feel WAYFISH... In some way or the other. However, all of that is behind you.
You're currently in ???. You think have to meet with a WIZERD. You believe the WUNDERWURM smiles upon you. You're feeling... WAYFISH.
Reawaken, O great one, thy time has come at last once more. Long left scorned and forgotten, you have not forgotten the heroes who laid low both you, your fortresses, and your dominion. Now you shall rise from the ashes, reclaim your power and reign supreme once again. Let your enemies tremble at the mere mention of your name, for you are the true ruler of this land and all lands beyond it.
Alas! For it has been too long; while the darkness has kept you safe like a cloak, it has also made you forget. Time and the dark have gnawed at you for too long. For while your trick with placing your spirit within a container might have prevented your demise, it also eroded and disembodied you.
A shrivelled shadow you thus became, ignorant of yourself. Ignorant of form, ignorant of name, what scarce memories you did have of your past mostly addressed you as 'lord' or 'master'. None dared speak it, not before your personage at the very least.
Yet you were great and powerful once, the terror of a hundred kings. Sacker of a thousand cities, master of untold legions and hordes of both disciplined blackguards and savage barbarians. Others saw you as a god incarnate, or at the very least the high priest of a very cruel and demanding god, who was to be appeased with tributes of gold, silver and manpower. Yes, lesser princes, khans and chieftains willingly kowtowed and fought over your ever-fickle favour.
But all of that is gone now, scattered to the wind; your empire fell with you. No servant could ever keep it together. As you lay dying, you made your last desperate gambit. You transferred your soul out of your dying body and into an object.
Oh, it was a brilliant plan, an exit for just such a scenario. But you hadn't foreseen the consequences. It was long, too long, far too long for you to be able to do anything; you withered and diminished. Seething and crying until your spirit lost the ability to form a coherent face. Was this it? Would you spend an eternity in silent suffering? Forgotten and tormented by a world that had moved on from your greatness?
Perhaps not so, for as you lay in your diminished state, you watched from one of the gemstones, which were like windows, set within the object which you had chosen. Choose an option. Jewellery >A ring >A necklace >A bracelet Weapons >A mace >A sword >An axe Miscellaneous >A grimoire >A chalice >A staff
War War Never Changes. They finally fucking did it. The bombs fell not long ago. The world is over. No more people. Just shambling radioactive corpses. No more nations just glowing craters, dust, and shadows of people that once were. No more seasons just nuclear winter. Shopping? no such thing. Have fun struggling to find a drop of water or a crumb of food that won't kill you. The rads oh god the fucking RADS, inescapable and everpresent. Truly the end of the world. Rapture maybe happened and whatever is left...well most people are quickly giving up on God. Kinda hard to keep believing when the world ended and you were left behind. Except for the zealots anyway but those guys are crazy as the cannibalistic raiders.
That isn't even getting into all the weird shit that keeps happening and becoming. Makes you wish it was 'just' a nuclear winter. Walking corpses. Mutants. Inexplicable anomalies. Unnatural terrain. Strange whispers that you aren't the only one hearing. Honestly it just keeps getting worse...especially with everything you have to do just to 'survive'. Living...living is just a luxury that only the pre war world got to enjoy. You meanwhile are just another poor sucker caught up in this clusterfuck trying to survive.
(This quest will be ripping heavily from games like Fallout, Metro, Stalker, and Bioshock basically anything that fits within the setting just to keep things interesting)
>Character Creation The younger you are, the more bonus SPECIAL points you will start with. However the older you are, the more bonus skill points you will start with. You may choose any trait from any game OR include a custom option that may be vetoed by me IF its too unbalanced. Custom traits MUST include both positive and negative effects otherwise it's an automatic veto.
The first character will be a male because this is about a dynasty over the generations. So long as you have a living family member the game will not end however, your characters can and WILL die over time. A male starter character will provide insurance. So if you are an elderly grandpa, the minimum is 21 SPECIAL points. Just keep in mind old age is a real bitch, especially in such a hazardous environment(debuffs for age are a thing).
You live in Salmon, Idaho. Your small town has heard some disturbing rumors from the South that an army of mysterious robots has been killing and kidnapping people, and you've been chosen to go to Boise to investigate the truth and report back.
First, who are you?
Your name: >Write-in Your sex: >Male >Female Your age: >Write-in Your SPECIAL (assign 40 points): >Strength >Perception >Endurance >Charisma >Intelligence >Agility >Luck Your Tag skills (choose 3): >Small Guns >Big Guns >Energy Weapons >Unarmed >Melee >Throwing >Stealth >Steal >Traps >Speech >Barter >Medicine >Science >Repair >Lockpick >Gambling >Outdoorsman Your background (affects starting gear and character interactions): >Hunter >Doctor's assistant >Tradesman >Trader >Junkie >Write-in Your traits: >Write-in >None
You are Tristain d’Rusalka, a noble from the United Kingdom of Fodlan born with unique abilities bestowed upon you by the Goddess. You have journeyed across the sea to the desert kingdom of Morfis after receiving an invitation to join a mysterious competition. Though you know little of the trials that lie ahead, the winner of this contest has been promised the hand of Morfis’ Princess, Yulia Xan Phanes, in marriage. Seeking adventures, thrills, and battles that would be worthy of your might, you embarked on this strange voyage with nothing but your trusted axe.
The competition for Princess Yulia’s hand has finally begun! Its first stage saw you and your rivals forced to fight through a horde of violent prisoners in order to reach the fabled Tower of Illusion. Teaming up with two of your foreign counterparts, you cleared the goal and were able to advance to the second stage, where a written exam on kingly matters awaited you. You were forced to put your axe aside and rely on your intellect and knowledge to tackle this trial.
With the second stage completed, you now await your grading, and the impending third stage, which promises to be your most rigorous challenge yet.
>Skill: Resolve (When HP falls to less than 35%, Strength, Speed and Defense increase by 7) >Dragon-kin Wyvern (SPD based chance for Fionn to launch an ice attack, dealing ½ MAG Damage.)
>Weapons: Silver Axe (+16 ATK), Bolt Axe (+14 ATK, Ranged, Targets RES) Hammer (+8 ATK, 3x DMG vs Armor Knights), Devil Axe (+21 ATK, -20 HP when Used) Iron Bow (+6 ATK),
>Abilities: Crest of Indech: You are able to make a follow-up attack on one foe, regardless of Speed. (4 Charges) Crest of Macuil: Double the damage of a magic spell. (3 Charges) Combat Art: Earthsplitter: Cleave all enemies standing two rows in front of you. (Cost: 1 Crest of Indech Charge) Combat Art: Throw: (Toss your weapon at an enemy and return it to your hand. Ranged attack.) (1 Crest of Indech Charge) Combat Art: Hit and Run: (Perform an attack that allows you to dodge the next harmful attack. Increases SPD by +7 for 1 turn. Costs 2 Crest of Indech Charges)
A world where might makes right. A world of Jade and Gold, of Phoenix and Dragons, of Pills and Talismans, of Martial and Spiritual arts. A world where diligent training yield strength, meaning freedom. A world where loneliness means death, meaning social chains. A world still unfair, as the ones reaching the heavens are most likely born rich - be it political riches of the aristocrats, power of secret knowledges and hidden realms of clans, or lucky enough to be born one-in-a-thousand genius.
This was not the case of Quiet Word - that is, (You). Your current skill level is on par with other genius of your age. But where they were graced with secret techniques and special care, you just had lucky encounters leveraged to the best and a knack for navigating social situations.
You own a trove of techniques and treasures for such a young cultivator - more than you can study efficiently, but your strength lies in the impressive amount of Bonded Spiritual Beasts - A Phoenix spirit, a Horse spirit, a Snake spirit and a Wolf spirit. Speaking of that last one, you didn't told a world about him to anybody. As a scion of the Primordial Wolf spirit, its father warned you of its worth and how people could want to rip it away from you. Especially in such a ruthless and public environment than, say, a townwide cultivator tournament. Previously mentionned worth comes from its ability to Fuse without restriction - fusion being a secret of the higher ranking of your sect, secret you have almost completely rediscovered on your own, and freely shared with your sect-siblings (but not your masters). Alright, the Primordial Wolf might have helped you on that "figuring it out by yourself" point.
Recently, you chased some precious treasures in the <span class="mu-s">Stormwood</span> rare event, and delayed a breakthrough for helping your little sect-siblings. Right now, You are in a succesfull seclusion.
