With the majority of the Seventh Universe united under the banner of the PTO, Emperor Cooler at its head, the universe has known a time of unrivaled peace. But in the shadows threats have been growing, nursing grudges against the PTO and the Saiyan race in particular. And now those threats are rising, stepping out of the shadows to openly challenge the established order. Seeking nothing short of the destruction of New Salda and the extinction of the entire Saiyan race, can you prevent this outcome? Or will the Saiyan race be reduced to nothing more than memories, their heroes nothing more than ink in the pages of the history books?
You the players will (most often) control Karn; wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul and hope of the entire PTO, not only the Saiyan race. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has grown in power and skill, overcoming the world-ending threats that have come for the Saiyans to become the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 758. From the massive Covenant empire to demonic incursions, mad cultists to vengeful gods, none have been strong or clever enough to put down Karn for good. But will one man's power be enough to protect everyone from the rising threats? Or will death come from those who you least expect it from? Your choices may mean the difference between survival and extinction, so choose carefully.
Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted): >30 minute vote times >Pick ONLY ONE option when voting >Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice >One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll >Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus) >Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third >Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored >If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny >Have fun
SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.
Lazari enters the room late, even though 'late' really means 'just in time', it's just that everyone else is always early for the meeting. She scans the room, it's pretty simple for a place that holds what might arguably be some of the strongest magic users in the country. Just a wooden table with dining chairs spread around it, but she notices one empty seat.
"You can't be serious, he's fucking gone?" Lazari sits down on her chair. "What the fuck happened?"
Kit, the summoning teacher, answers, "Ah, well, ya know, he got a better offer somewhere else."
"I will say, it is bound to happen when our hiring standards are so high, we hardly have the resources to keep most of them interested," Nina, the Divination teacher, adds. "Perhaps we should lower them."
"What!? Bullshit! Listen, every time we hire some inexperienced guy fresh out of college, they just recite whatever they find in the book, and the moment they have a problem unique to them, they have no idea what to do because they're used to magic being handed to them!"
"What's the alternative, then? We're already stretched thin as is, we can't sustain this forever, and with everything going on we're already pretty busy."
"This is a meeting about the first year students," Ayn, the material teacher changes the subject. "We can come back to the staff shortage issue later."
"Agreed!" Kit says, "Now, we've got a lot of people with good potential here! Like-"
"Potential to be a massive pain in the ass is what they are," Lazari rolls her eyes. "It's been a while since we had such a handful of unique cases. Are you sure they'll be doing alright, Nina?"
Nina nods. "They all have a pretty high chance of making it, despite their unique issues."
"Yeah? Well I'm not so sure about that, there's... right, that human kid? Sure, the mana cost of the spells are pretty managable right now, but that's not going to stay true at the end of the year, ya know? I've really tried to look into this, but Jack didn't leave us with a lot of substantial research, which sucks."
Nina shakes her head. "That is not what I am worried about, he is dating that forgotten girl, and he believes he can 'fix' the forgotten curse."
Lazari raises an eyebrow. "And? I mean sure, he's just a kid, but he's bound to learn a few things on the way there. I've looked into it myself, it's a little bit of a complicated issue, but-"
"I believe he should put his attention elsewhere. If he was just trying to cure that girl, this would not be a problem, but if he develops a general solution that would work on most forgottens, it could be bad."
> First Post: - Name - Colour - Starting Area (5 spaces) - Fluff
> The Rules: - Precisely detail your Expand/Attack/Defend moves. Any vagueness will be left to my interpretation. - The First water move in a turn halves the Attack/Expand value, but following moves do not - No Giga-alliances, all other diplomacy or betrayals is fair game - On your turn, include name, colour, move, and flavour text for potential bonus
You are in a tavern. Water is dripping from a wet spot on the rafters, and it smells like something earthy and fungal is growing inside the walls. It is early morning and so quiet that you can hear the crunch of the waterbug you have just crushed beneath your boot.
The tavernkeeper is setting mugs on the counter when he glances over at you. "We don't serve your kind here," he says.
"But I'm human," you reply.
"I meant foreigners. You ain't from around here."
This is true. Where are you from again?
>A remote monastery in the woods, after being left there in a breadbasket when you were born >A quiet logging town a few leagues yonder, born to a family that owns the local sawmill >The jungles of an island off the coast of this land, raised by a dragon with 11 heads
Happy Halloween, human mortals of /Qst/, from Overlord Nintjyr of the Voekhet Dynasty. On the 20th of April 2020 on your human calender, the human perpetual Cupanon on the board /tg/ blessed us all with the original Warhammer40k isekai. Neckberdia picked up the series, bringing Cupanon a larger audience, that included I. Many imitators followed in Cupanon's steps when he departed to give us stories of how they would have wrangled the setting with different staring positions, one of whom being my Dynasty's very own royal Cryptek High Transmogrifer Ishskar, who found himself possessed by a human soul that slipped out of chronological alignment by 12 million years into the past. Ishskar's story introduced so many to the Necron faction, and kindled in me a love of literature I didn't know I had. In honor of Cupanon, Ishskar, the official writers of black library, the friends I've made in this community, the audience who took part as background characters in Ishskar's story, the writers of the many isekais, the hobbyists who keep Warhammer40k alive, and my hailing Dynasty of Voekhet, I bring you the haunting retelling of the Necrontyr species, and the legions of the cold undead machines they became...
This story is pieced together from all the official lore I can gather, Ishskar's OC Necron Dynasty of Voekhet, and melded together cohesively by me with a little liberal conjecture.
But first a few disclaimers. Don't use this as a substitute for official lore, or do I'm not your Overlord. On top of my conjecture, be aware I am also going to be a unreliable narrator slanting the optics to favor my faction. Feel free however to use this as a jumping off point to explore official lore on your own!
Now, play your preferred spooky background ambiance on loop, dust off the sarcophagi of your ancestors, set your RGB steups to green, and enjoy.
Last time, you challenged the Warden who reigns over Fire Field to a dangerous duel of the highest stakes and risks! You two will face each other in a game of <span class="mu-s">Guess Whom is it?</span>! An original game without a trademark that you can sell to children of all ages… Except the ones who like to eat the tiny pieces of everything, like Ame when she was a little more little and you couldn’t play with your line of plastic construction toys — you’ll never forget the day you had to close down <span class="mu-i">Johnny Airlines™</span> because that tiny bear kept trying to eat your plastic passengers! They were paying customers, how dare she?!
Regardless, the birdy bird moves back to Quye as his side of the board hasn’t appeared yet. The two communicate briefly, a drastic change is about to happen…
Flatly, Quye doesn’t want to play the game proper, but the challenge still goes. To make a long story short, you’re playing Guess Who? on Single Player. By relinquishing his role as an active competitor, he negotiated rules changes:
>You’re going to play on Quye’s turf on Floor F.
>The Prisoners (and some volunteers) will *actually* come over to be a part of this. They will help you out.
>During Phase 1, the game revolves around you asking 5 questions to the Prisoners. They’re forced to answer earnestly. This extra information will come in handy for Phase 2 later, so use them wisely. Or don't! You never won a game of Guess Who? by knowing any of those losers' jobs!
>During Phase 2, it’s the proper Guess Who? gameplay everyone knows and loves. You ask yes or no questions to figure out Quye’s chosen one. He *can’t* lie.
>You have to win in 5 turns or less, or else Quye takes the win. During your turn you can either ask Quye a Yes or No question or guess who his pick is.
>As negotiated, Quye can veto one of the questions *only once*. You’re forced to ask something else, *not* lose a question.
>You can’t make a question that eliminates more than 8 prisoners with either answer given. (Example: During your first question, you can’t ask the Gender of his pick because it’d eliminate 12 people no matter the answer.) If the number of one gender dwindles to 8 or less, you’re allowed to ask the question however.
>The Winner gets a reasonable reward from the loser.
You shake your head, having lost yourself in a fog of thoughts for what feels like days, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute. You feel a cold sweat overtaking you as you avert your gaze from Anji’s.
You’d talked about your sexuality on forums and boards in the past, but actually hearing someone come out to you was a shocking thing to experience. And that was without even processing the whispers from your angelic companion, who seems to be able to see that you are the object of affection in this young man’s heart.
How could he feel that way about someone he just met? He barely even knew you, but maybe he had a thing for guys with a resting bitch face and messy long hair?
You can’t just leave him standing there awkwardly forever, you need to actually say something.
What do you say?
>Your sexuality doesn’t matter to me, Anji. You seem like a cool dude. >You’re gay? Oh… well that’s funny, I am too… eheh. >Aaaaaanyways- you have anything to drink? That hike really made me thirsty!
<span class="mu-i">Welcome to Nightmare Quest, a Halloween one-shot by yours truly. This will not be a heroic tale. Survival to the very end is a reward of its own, and not one that's guaranteed. If you have the heart to stomach it, then I have only one warning left for you:</span> <span class="mu-s">Readers beware...YOU choose the scare!</span>
You let out a weary sigh, briefly blinding yourself in favor of pinching your eyes to rub some of your exhaustion out of them. It's not really something you should be doing while driving, but you reason that it's fine - you haven't seen another soul on the road in the past three hours, and it's as straight as a road can be for the next five miles at least. A slight bump in the road causes you to curse as you poke yourself in the eye, and you're quick to throw both hands back on the wheel just in case.
Blinking stars out of your vision, you see that you're still driving down the road, perfectly safe. The front end of the truck seems fine, and there's <span class="mu-i">still</span> absolutely nothing out there. It was probably just a pothole, one that'll never get fixed out here in the woods. If not, then you'd wager it being a particularly unlucky squirrel. You don't really want to stop and check, since you're only an hour away from your final destination and you're <span class="mu-s">eager</span> to get some rest for the night. You've been driving since <span class="mu-r">dawn</span>, after all, and it's probably close to <span class="mu-b">midnight</span> already.
Seconds pass, and you find yourself chewing at your cheek. What if you damaged a tire? Or worse, an axle? You'd be shit out of luck if your truck crapped out on you out here. Some small part of you also worries that it wasn't a pothole, and that you hit something or someone that's now injured and needs help - you try not to think about that too much.
Perhaps you should go back and check to see what it was you hit? Or at least stop here and check on the damages...though, you can't deny that a more selfish part of you says that you should keep going until you hit your destination - repairs can <span class="mu-i">maybe</span> wait until tomorrow, assuming there's even any that need done!
>Pull over here and now, check for any potential damages. >Do a U-turn, head back a couple hundred feet to see what you hit. >Keep on trucking, you are NOT going to get out in some dark forest in the middle of nowhere at MIDNIGHT.
As for your current destination...where was it, again?
>A cabin that you inherited from your recently-deceased grandfather. You want to see if he left any memorabilia there. >A particularly cheap apartment building in a small town that you recently purchased. You need to check on the tenants and make sure the building is up to code! >A hotel. You heard about a circus being set up in the place you're heading to, and you plan to check it out tomorrow. >Somewhere else? (Write-in!)
This story was partially generated by AI whilst i was in an altered state of consciousness so i feel it fitting to be forgotten about here. Without durther introduction let me paste it here;
Selina Kyle, the infamous Catwoman, stalked the shadowy alleys of Gotham City, her whip coiled tightly at her side. Her eyes, gleaming like emeralds in the moonlit night, scanned the cityscape for any sign of trouble. She had heard whispers of a new contraption Riddler had been working on, something so ingenious it could redefine chaos. The Enigma Device, they called it, a tool with the power to hack into any system, to manipulate any mind, to bring any plan to fruition. It was a prize worth the risk.
Beware of the boy as he is boy no more, rather a man since yesterday. And any young man needs a young woman, the elder has been saying for months. Even though he still feels like a boy, no words in opposition leave his mouth as the matchmaking prospect make him excited in a novel non-boyish way. Miurne is her name, his childhood best friend and bride-to-be, the one who has been his dear friend for the past decade spent in these woods.
The terrain is mountainous, life here is rugged, the forty escapees are poor. Yet the sky is blue and untainted by pollution, their eyes see walls of woods and greenery every day, daily life is simple, distant are the memories of forced labor in the assembling of earth-flattening machinery of monstrous size, made specifically for planets considered worthy of becoming agro-worlds. But the boy doesn't remember all of that, he could barely walk when a group of families, including his, made their way to the other end of the planet on the backs of stolen Tauroses. He doesn't remember but people talk, he knows that sooner or later the ground beneath their feet will start to rumble, the earth-flattening machines will be here for his mountains, for his woods, for his Miurne, for him.
Certain event reminded the retched group of renegades of their vulnerability, certain event made the earth rumble. A bright red flight vessel painted a jet-black strip of burnt fuel across the sky a day ago, on the boy's birthday. The growling of overworked engines drowned any other sound, the tattered hull scattered in pieces all over the place, unable to withstand the atmospheric pressure. Finally the cockpit kissed the planetary surface with mighty force dozen kilometers away from their hideout. The adults in the renegade group were thrown in distress, a crashed vessel meant investigation. There will be a makeshift council tonight as to what measures need to be taken for everyone's security. Despite the calming words of the elder, the boy couldn't help but feel fear creeping in their camp.
Sunlight is still in abundance so regardless of circumstances when the land needs assistance, man answers, especially when his food is on the line. The boy is plowing the mountainous soil along with his father, strapped domesticated creature, native to this land, is pulling a plow.
Suddenly the boy hears an uncomfortable sound of metal hitting harder metal, the plow is dragging an object covered by a thick layer of dirt. He observes a prolonged object with unusual attachment. >the boy cleans the sword <span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">[Sullied Sister]</span></span>
Suddenly the boy gets a violent headache, the domesticated ox-like creature starts to behave erratically, dragging air into its lungs and exhaling with great force, anxiously. A few dozen steps in front of them a small item glistens red under the sun. >the boy pockets the precious stone <span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">[Tourmaline of Rigidity]</span></span>
