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.
OOC: Let me just preface this by saying this will be a short one shot. While there may be more in the future, please treat this as a stand alone story.
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You awaken from a particularly fitful dream by a gentle nudging at your shoulder.
"... Red. Little Red, it's time to wake up. It's not good to sleep in. I have an errand for you."
The voice is soft and maternal, but wholly unfamiliar. Internally, you resist the call to wakefulness, but the person trying to nudge you awake is persistent.
You open your eyes and find yourself in a little cottage. There is a bed for one person opposite the one you're lying in, looking like it was freshly made.
You remember being a >Boy >Girl
But whatever you were before, you're a girl now. Young, too. Younger than you remember being.
"Make your bed and get dressed. Your grandmother is sick, and I need you to take this basket of food to her."
You are the head chef of the Michelin 3-star restaurant “Pequod Pizzeria.” Despite its name, it has more than just Italian cuisine: this restaurant is famous for offering nearly any dish in existence, no matter how obscure or expensive.
It was a slow evening, and you’re thinking about closing early. Your manager, Ahab, went out for a walk. He’s stressed about the falling revenues, since it turns out offering EVERYTHING is astronomically expensive. If you can’t find a big fish to shell out some serious cash, you’ll be out of a job by Monday.
Suddenly, an enormous man tumbles through the front doors. He brings with him a posse of servants sailing around his orbit, like remoras rushing to his aid. He leverages his immensity onto an embroidered couch normally reserved for fancy events, and his servants pull together several tables around their corpulent chief. Before you can protest, the big man bellows to you:
<span class="mu-s">“HELLO. MY NAME IS RICHARD MOBY. I AM EXCEEDINGLY RICH AND OWN A BARGE. GIVE ME FOOD AND I GIVE YOU MONEY.”</span>
You know your manager is vehemently fat-phobic (he once banned a husky man for sneaking extra breadsticks), but you can’t pass up this opportunity. You cautiously step over to Richard, keeping a safe distance.
“Of course sir,” you say. “But….are you sure you can afford this?”
<span class="mu-s">”OF COURSE I CAN AFFORD THIS. I OWN A BARGE. NOW GO FETCH ME YOUR FINEST.”</span>
You nod and stride to the kitchen, where your team of cooks and supervisors are hiding. They heard the booming noise and thought it was an earthquake. You tell them of the situation:
1. You have limited time: you estimate your team can probably make about 10 dishes before your manager comes back.
2. The dishes need to be expensive, but not too expensive so you are able to turn a profit.
3. The portion sizes need to be filling. If Richard isn’t satisfied, he may just waddle away without paying his bill.
You, <span class="mu-s">the First Princess of the Flower Kingdom</span>, have been unceremoniously stripped of all your jewels and finery before being dumped buck naked into the <span class="mu-s">Hollow Labyrinth</span>. You expected many things when the <span class="mu-s">Boar Empire</span> invaded: losing your head, being forcibly wed to the son of their emperor, or even getting passed around between their lowborn soldiers like a cheap prostitute in the worst case. Being forced into a naked dive of the Hollow Labyrinth - the lucrative yet dangerous dungeon that sits beneath <span class="mu-s">Rose City</span> - to earn your "freedom" was not on the list.
The scrying orb recording the whole affair for the sick and twisted entertainment of <span class="mu-s">Emperor Buta</span> and his five demon generals was to be expected. The Boar Empire has a habit of tormenting the royals of conquered nations. Unfortunately for him, that pig Buta mistook you for an ordinary woman, the weak and vulnerable sort who would shrink up when her gowns were torn away as if hiding her shame.
There is nothing shameful about your body.
Your skin is like flawless white marble, your lips like plump red rose petals. Your eyes sapphires, your hair spun gold that falls in perfect curls, your features chiseled by the artistic hands of your personal trainer over the course of twenty five years into an immaculate monument to tomboyish athleticism. You worked <span class="mu-i">hard</span> to shape your mind and body into a treasure greater than any of the silks or jewels those brutes stripped from you, and if they thought you would shrink away <span class="mu-i">humiliated</span> by putting the fruits of your labor on display, they are fools.
No, what is humiliating is the fact that these barbarians managed to overwhelm the elite forces of the <span class="mu-s">Flower Knights</span> with nothing but human wave tactics. Not what they've done with the power that they hold over you now, but the fact that they have any power over you at all fills you with a deep sense of disgust.
"Once I've conquered this dungeon, I am going to kill you," you tell the scrying sensor and whoever is behind it. It is not a growl of anger, simply a statement of fact.
There is no exit from the Hollow Labyrinth, not until you defeat one of its Floor Bosses. Even then, you suspect that pig Buta sealed you in with one of the tools that locks dimensional space until the last bost has been slain. No doubt he wants to display your broken and mangled corpse to your people, to demoralize them even further.
Well, you will not give him the satisfaction.
<span class="mu-s">Many paths are open to you now...</span> >A set of grand, red double doors requires much force to push open. >A narrow passage winds off into the darkness >A broken portcullis allows access to a gently moving waterway >A once hidden door has fallen open, revealing a secret hallway. >A light above is a hole in the roof. You can climb to it
This is a WiP game and some (or many) aspects of it are subject to change. - - >The Setting The Democratic Republic of Congo. About 3.5 times the size of Texas, or about the size of the United States east of the Mississippi River.
This is set after the events of the famous /k/ thread about Africa and Paratroopers
While the worst of the fighting was during the First Congo War, and the bulk of the fighting during the Second Congo War is over, the area is on track to suffer millions more deaths. These lives won't be lost in large, "epic" tank on tank battles like earlier, or the kinds of notable guerilla warfare of the "Vietnam War". No one is going to win, nothing is going to be figured out or settled. Vengeance will result in vengeance, and observers wonder if anyone involved actually has any ideology or beliefs.
And there is a lot of groups. Groups within groups, sub factions within sub factions, and factions that are puppets of puppets.
I advise you pause here and read the somewhat questionable, but entertaining /k/ "African Paratrooper thread". Otherwise...
You are a wizard of the Tower. You have come of age and are now considered a journeyman of your order. You must go out into the strange and alien outside world for the first time to learn from it, take from it, and give back what you will.
Wizardry is a vast collection of arts and disciplines that amount to more knowledge than any one man could learn in a lifetime. However, all are roads that join together into the singularly divine path of magic. Your time in the tower has started you down the path of three. Each of these pursuits represent a lifetime commitment and will never be abandoned or added onto. The Tower emphasizes singular mastery above varied mediocrity.
>Path of War: You can kill and defend yourself with magic. You wear magic armor and carry a mystical blade crafted by your own hand. Your dragon is similarly armed and armored, and has likewise been trained in the arts of war to serve as your flying war mount. Other disciplines can be bent to a more martial application when used in conjunction with this one.
>Path of the Healer: You can mend wounds and cure the sick and dying. You are versed in various methods protection against maligned powers. You know much of the secrets of herbs and animals. Your dragon is larger and healthier than others of his kind because of the beneficial powers you have surrounded him with since hatching him. He can share his life force with you when you're in need of it. Other disciplines can be bent towards a more constructive and beneficial end when used in conjunction with this one.
>Language of the Spirits: You know how to commune with the elements. You carry in some form a sample of True Earth, Fire, Water, and Air by which to work with the four pillars of creation. Other disciplines gain immense power when used in conjunction with this one.
>Necromancy: You commune with the souls, remains, and remnants of men and beasts that have since moved on from this world, yet still linger. Great wisdom and knowledge, as well as power can be learned from those that have come before. Threats by which no mortal power can overcome may be dealt with more directly when using this strange and darkest of arts. When used in conjunction with other magic deeper meaning, greater insights, and mysteries undreamed of by mortal man open up to you. Your dragon may take you to the borders of the afterlife, but not even he can move beyond them.
