<span class="mu-i">3rd of Sun's Dusk, 4E 171.</span>
The sun rises over the Goldmoor, along the southern coast of Hammerfell. Here, the harsh desert that the region is known for gives way to green scrubland, thanks to the humid air of the ocean and the pleasant chill of winter. This is where the River Tark flows into Hew's Bay, and where the city of Taneth stands proud. Thousands call this port home and ply their trades within its walls and as one of its many guards, it is your job to ensure the safety of these people.
You work for the Imperial Guild of Bailiffs, as a sworn officer and enforcer of the Emperor's law. You have been keeping the streets of Taneth safe for over two years and just a month ago, your service was rewarded with a promotion. You are now a sergeant, the leader of your very own patrol, comprised of yourself and two other officers. It's not much, but the responsibility that you have been given is still a sign of trust, and an opportunity for you to prove yourself in the eyes of your superiors. With a little luck, you'll continue to climb the ranks and eventually claim a position of true authority.
It won't be easy. Hammerfell is a vicious and unforgiving place and its people, the Redguards, are not unlike the land that they call home. They are divided into many factions, though most of the region is split between two of them – the Forebears and the Crowns. The Crowns claim to be the descendants of the Na-Totambu, who ruled over the lost Redguard homeland. They remain true to the ways of their ancestors and shun Imperial doctrine. The same cannot be said for the Forebears, who have abandoned the old gods in favour of the Eight Divines of the Empire. This cultural divide has been the cause of great enmity between the two groups for centuries, an animosity that is unlikely to die down anytime soon.
Thanks to its proximity to the Imperial heartland of Cyrodiil, Taneth is considered a Forebear city and most of its population are proud to call themselves citizens of the Empire. However, not everyone that lives within the city's walls has abandoned the old ways. There are a rare few who stay true to the traditions of the Na-Totambu and bury their resentment deep within their hearts, so that they may live among the Forebears.
>First things first, I did actually come back after the funeral and I uh...I dunno. Did I lose the plot? I kept waiting and my autism locked me into that thread hoping someone would respond. So before I type out a huge post I wanna make sure, is anyone even interested in Alola Quest anymore?
Your name is Feral. You thought you and your bandmates were going to a crazy tour around the world but instead what happened is that you plane crashed midway. You woke up, and the only person you could find is Fred Cobst, your lead singer. Both of you are confused and scared. What do you do?
Welcome to <span class="mu-i">Knights of Nothing</span>. For those of you who were part of “The Testament of Tatamu” quest a few years ago, this takes place in the same post-apocalyptic universe, albeit closer to the beginning of the timeline. The setting errs closer towards hard(er) science fiction.
For those who don’t know me, I’m Kaz, and I’ve been a QM since the last few years back when quests were still on /tg/ before we made the jump. My last active quest was “Star Wars – Interregnum”. For those familiar with me, it’s been a long time. Sorry for disappearing without any warning. Long and short of it was a mixture of burnout, writer’s block, and IRL/day job getting in the way of things.
In any event, I’m back in a limited capacity. I’m back in trade school and doing irregular contract work, which leaves a creative-sized hole in my chest. So I’m writing once more, with the goal of trying to do 1-2 updates per day. For those waiting for <span class="mu-i">Interregnum</span>, it’s coming soon(TM). My block was really starting to show towards the end of the last thread, and I need to square the circular peg on either fixing it or wiping part of the slate clean.
The mechanics of this quest draw heavily from the Fantasy Flight Games <span class="mu-i">Genesys</span> narrative dice system, albeit modified and changed for questing format, which is the same system that <span class="mu-i">Interregnum</span> uses.
Now, without further ado…
==============
<span class="mu-i">The world stopped, then began anew.</span>
>>Location: Unknown >>Date: Unknown
The burden of consciousness is abruptly forced upon you – sudden and without any warning.
Your first breath is a wet, choking sputter that catches in your throat. Something thick and viscous coats the inside of your esophagus, nearly strangling you from the inside. Each attempt at inhaling or expelling only makes it worse, every aborted retch an aborted reminder that your body has seemingly turned against you.
Panic surges before rational thought can catch up. Adrenaline sears away the last remnants of a dreamless sleep, burning away a mental fog clouding your mind until only the rawest survival instinct remains, and a painful hyper-awareness of your immediate surroundings.
And then you feel them – cold, conforming walls pressing against your body, smooth and pliant, firm and unyielding as they conform to your panicked thrashing. Your hands slap against a curved surface only mere inches away from your face. The realization shoots through you like ice in your veins.
The gates of Felcross are behind you now. The city where you were raised, the city of your first failures and rare achievements, the last great city on the way east. You look back, as if to say goodbye. There is nothing of worth left for you there, only your bickering family and your more successful peers.
You are a wanderer now. On your belt is a sword, on your back - a bag with tools, travelling gear, some money - whatever was left after your purchases - and rations. They won't last long, but you'll think of solving this later. Two javelins fit nicely in the quiver, slung over your shoulder close to the travelling bag.
Barely a man, not a youth, you start down one of the roads. You don't know much of the world, but you've had dreams. Dreams of power, people bowing to your might, of... freedom, to do what you want, however indulgent your desires may be. Of immortality, like in the tales of the Flower Harbringer and the Collector of Names.
They are far away, but one who doesn't begin his journey will most certainly never see its end.
You possess basic ability in the way of the sword and the javelin, having been given basic training for the militia, like any able man of the kingdom. You also know your way around the streets, courtesy of your upbringing. You can repair and take care of your weapon, and know the basics of crafting, having helped around the smithy for a time. You think you can survive on the road and subsist if need came. That's about all you are capable of.
You heard the road east leads to the frontier, the outlands. Not completely devoid of settlement, it is, nevertheless, a dangerous place - some of the monsters manage to sneak into the heartlands of the kingdom of Hien, not to speak of these wild lands, where they may have greater reign. Their distance from the heartlands means all kind of folk flock there, sometimes good in heart, but often dark. It also means greater freedom, whatever the cost. At least, that's what the caravans and travellers from that land told you when they passed through Felcross.
"Only madmen go east," your grandpa once said spitefully. "Those that don't know the worth of a family at your back or a proper home you can return to." Didn't stop one of your elder brothers from going there. Didn't stop you.
The road is calm for a few days as you pass by caravans going west. You didn't have enough money to buy your place in one, so you're going alone.
After the sun sets on the 4th day of travel, you consider making camp, like the previous days, but see a light further down the road. Approaching closer, you see a person sit by the campfire, a man, if you read their build correctly. He doesn't seem to have noticed you, tinkering with something in his hands. A tent is pitched nearby, and a spear rests by the fire. The faint scent of herbs and medicine drifts in the air. The smoke, too, of course. (1/2)
Ilvermorny Quest returns after IRL issues! More cute Witches with guns, a destiny, and violence in abundance!
OOC: I have been having health issues as well as family health ones. I am sorry. This is not dead, and during the time I felt okay, I ended up with a mega update. Will try to get back to 2-3 smaller updates a week depending on player count.
I am doing a rentry for the opening recap, so I don't need two separate posts for it.
To HeadQM? The epilogue was very nice if yu are reading this. To Kektus, I need to see if a new thread is up for your game since I haven't been here in a couple of weeks; keep up the good work! Thank anyone still checking this out. And to the rest? Feel free to vote some of these up. Getting to green for thread one made my night, lol.
<span class="mu-r"><span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">"It was a simple game, downloaded by children with unrestricted internet access in an era long passed. Trends came and went, websites lived and died, and eventually Tricky Treats Online faded from the eyes of the next generation. The children who roamed the instanced streets of Tricky Treats were now adults, and this game -- frozen in time -- were the remnants of their childhood."</span></span></span> <span class="mu-i">-From the analysis video "The Real Game that Really Killed"</span>
You are Margot Merriweather, a woman of order who - despite being a child at the time - opted to play as a "Grown Up Ghoul" embracing the decoration and design of the in-game "Haunted Houses". After a decade of being away from the game, you decided to make a new character, just to peak in and relive those years for a few moments.
Nostalgia was the only thing that seemed to pause your now busy life, so occasionally after getting suitably tipsy you dip into the past. Perhaps in reliving, you gain a further appreciation for the present moment, thus making the seconds more palpable; Or maybe it's pure delusion, and the reality is you're spending your weekend alone again, desperately trying to be a kid. As judgemental as you might feel towards your own desires, you allow yourself to be under this spell, log in to your old account, and add a new profile.
<span class="mu-b">Halloween is that one time of year where all the children conquer any social misgivings for the sake of mountains of sweets. This year - however - is different, because among the candy being given, there are sure to be some <span class="mu-s">Tricky Treats!</span>
Tricky Inc. threw its hat into the candy business, and their product - Tricky Treats - exploded in popularity. Kids can't get enough, Adults can't get enough, and even the monster under your bed wants that Tricky taste!
So what are you waiting for, get out there and do what it takes to snag a bag full!</span>
Choose your Class! :
>Sugar Gobbler (Ring the doorbell, get the candy, ring the doorbell, get the candy... Wanna trade?)
>Trickster (Cough up the candy, or some toilet paper might go flying..!)
>Grown Up Ghoul (I HATE these Tricky Treaters!!!)
>Rent-a-Cop (Protect and Serve! ... After eating some confiscated confectioneries!)
>Minimum Wager (Working on Halloween? This sucks dude!)
It all happened very suddenly. One day, the outpost gets news of at least three different coups in the Galactic Federation, then the next day there is only hyperlink silence. Comms were cut off with the Feds and people scrambled in a panic.
Helian Beta, your home, was the only populated planet in this star system, under the authority of Sector Xin’an. It’s a liveable planet, though far warmer and arid than most other liveable planets, many of the people living here would barely consider that the moniker “liveable” is at all deserved.
Still, humans can breathe here, so they can also work here. Mining outposts were established all around the planet’s largest continent, Continent Alpha, which was itself surrounded by various subcontinents and islands, the whole set of land was then surrounded by the Helian Beta Ocean, which covered the rest of the planet.
Life was good enough in your little outpost, Gaspost V, the dreariest part was living in the planet itself. Mining work was mostly done through advanced machines, but the workers had to supervise them, so miners still felt like miners, they got just as dirty as the equipment did after all. The outpost was in charge of digging into a source of gas that could be used as fuel, heating and electric appliances after refinement.
You are the Syndical Leader of Redstone V, in charge of ensuring the rights of the miners. Your name is Alexander Redstone.
It’s only been a few days since the comms cut. Everyone expected them to return after a bit, but they didn’t. Much as you prod the hyperlink station and checked frequencies, you still got nothing. You puff from your cigarette and let out the smoke with an irritated puff.
It’s really that bad, isn’t it? You’d been syndical leader for five years, you just got the hang of the job a few months ago. Everything was going well, you’d get comfy, finally take the time to find a partner, get some kids going, enjoy life as best you can.
Now this. You take a big puff and finish off that cig, then smash it into the ash tray by the hyperlink station.
“Alex, it’s about time we did something.” You hear the voice of your assistant, miss Ivy Fielder, as she enters the room with her usual pristine uniform. A young lady with a diligent mindset and an ambitious streak. She’s your second-in-command, but she’d probably climb much higher in the ladder than you. Still, it seems her ambitions were dashed now.
“It is.” You reply, then let out a long sigh. You look out the window from your Gaspost V Administrative Building office. The outpost is quiet, most of the townsfolk have gone off to work the mines one more day, their kids in school. The buildings rise out of windswept drylands, as does the outpost’s outer wall, built to keep wild critters out and wild children in.
You watch as whirlwinds of sand and dust rise from the pavement below. Could it really happen this fast? To lose contact with the entire federation in just a few days? Is there even a federation anymore?
Hello! I found a thread on /lit/ dedicated to some "Code 7" and people there are writing weird comments about some "The Archivist" and prayers. Here's a link to it. Does anyone know where this originated from or what it means? Anyone interested can take a look: >>>/lit/24865816
