The conception. The miracle of life. This is where it all begins. You are the egg that was released at the right time and you are the first successful sperm to meet the egg. You start your existence now.
>Roll 1d2 to determine if you implant successfully in the uterus.
You are Anon, an albino man and something of a self-made warrior-magus who can remember only faint vestiges of his past, is unaware of his real name, and is a Master in the Akeldama Great Holy Grail War, which is taking place in a city in an artificial world called Akeldama. Your Servant is Avenger of Red, a winged girl wielding considerably powerful magic who has declined to tell you her true name so far. Most recently you and Avenger teleported toward a staging area for the enemy’s attack, where she had detected an Assassin-class Servant. Charging into a subway station, your pursuit was slowed when you ran into magecraft-enhanced explosive mines and other weapons crafted from the enemy’s hybridization of modern munitions and mystics. Fighting back and inflicting debilitating damage on an androgynous vampire called “Delta” and the Servant Aka no Assassin, who wielded the torture-weapon Noble Phantasm “Phantom Maiden”, you eventually encounter the Dead Apostle Eugene Messerschmidt and the Servant Archer of Black, who arrived as reinforcements. A missing companion, a relatively well-meaning vampire named Sophia, also managed to find you. She wasn’t pleased to find out that Messerschimdt was a commanding officer in the undead army that terrorized the world of Akeldama before the arrival of the Servants. You also learned that Sophia had undergone some kind of transformation since you last saw her.
You refocus your Mana Sight, and when you look at Sophia you can see that her body is densely infused with True Ether. As she takes a deep breath, a large fraction of the True Ether in her body begins circulate and move toward her upper back. In fact, it’s the same part of her upper back where you’ve felt an odd sensation in yours lately, and the sensation returns in earnest as you watch Sophia now.
You shield your eyes as you watch the True Ether begin to physically manifest in a shining white flash. Blinking a few times to clear your vision, you feel as though the ringing vibration of a massive bell is causing your entire body to reverberate.
Out of Sophia’s back are a pair of white wings: shining a pure white light, bright enough to clearly illuminate the tunnel, covered in feathers that make the wings reminiscent of those of eagles, and after a few moments of analysis you conclude that the wings are formed of the True Ether. Taking it all in, a single word leaps to the front of your mind and roots itself there. Right now, you’d have to describe Sophia’s appearance as...
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.
You glanced at the she-demon, your freezing hand slipping atop hers seeking warmth, and perhaps more. “Miranna” —you were cautious not to give the soldier’s son any undue ideas— “there is something I need to see to first. You go ahead as we agreed, to the enclave; see if you can catch Whiskers there or along the way.”
Embers flared in her eyes as she tilted her head back, fixing the armoured soldier with her gaze. He clenched his weaponless fists and drew a deep breath under her intimidating stare, as if bracing for battle. Miranna wheezed.
“That pest troubles me not: I’m sure you can best him; but are you -sure- you should waste time on this, whatever ‘this’ is?”
With your palm now warm, you brushed her talons and then dropped your hand. “Yes. Please return once you find him, thought, else it’s going to be a long journey for me … if I even knew where to go, which I don’t."
Her teeth clicked as she flashed a grin, her immense ebony wings unfurling like a dark stain against the landscape’s canvas. With a beat, she ascended, stirring another swirl of dust that blew away the green blades of grass that survived the first.
“Will I find you here once I return?”
“There should be a village nearby,” you said, to displeased harrumph of the soldier. “I’ll be there somewhere, but you’ll spot me regardless, won’t you?”
With another stroke, her wings lifted her even higher, her voice falling down like a drumming thunderclap. “I’m not going to lose sight of the he— you, that’s for certain. I shall be swift upon my wings, so you best be too!” Her silhouette dwindled into a speck, together with her laughter.
“So your name is Niklos?” the soldier remarked once Miranna had vanished. “You seemed awfully familiar for a prisoner; even for one forced to serve her?”
“It’s complicated,” you said and paused. “And what is yours?”
“Yuriy, family name’s Tallow.” He reached for the crossbow. “May I have it now?”
You offered it to him, softening your grip, making it it easy for Yuriy to take it. Thought no stairwells grazed those plains, should he attempted to load the weapon, you knew you could grapple and overpower him before that. You pressed your toe into the earth to lift a broken sword he was eyeing, and then, after turning it once in your hand, you tossed it into the bog with the rest of the abandoned weapons.
Yuriy strapped the crossbow to his belt, the leather creaking in response as he scoffed at your throw. “The demon said you could handle me, but I don’t see it.” He gestured with his shoulder for you to follow. “ … Are you not cold like that?”
Banks face is calm and serious, but you can see it in his eye, an air of uncertainty creeps in. You sigh and shrug.
"I understand where you're coming from, Banks and I wouldn't have framed this as a choice if I was just going to take the choice from you when you make the one I don't like."
You see a frown settle onto his face and wave a hand.
"Look I know you aren't a coward, you've put your ass on the line plenty in the past. But this IS the job, by definition, it's not about us looking out for ourselves. It can't be."
"I won't be able to do the job if I get iced out because I turned rat on a detective, Mark. Are you expecting me to stay a beat cop forever? Walk the block until I'm old enough to finally get the bare minimum pension?"
"Oh come on, Banks. Your pension? You expect me to believe this would be about money?"
His face goes slightly red and he speaks quietly.
"No.. even if you did believe that I wouldn't let you think it for long. You know this isn't about money, but it IS about family. I'm getting married soon and one day I wanna have a kid or two, not to put too fine a point on it but that takes money. Money that being a beat cop isn't going to get me. I need to plan my future, to get a few stripes or move into admin.. I can't put it on Susanne to support us."
"I hear you.." You say quietly, taking a moment to chew your breakfast before it goes too cold. "You have the right to make whatever choice you think is best, but I don't think you'll sleep well at night if you let this go."
"Why's that?"
You swallow another bite.
"Because you're like me. Protect and serve isn't just a slogan to you, guys like us actually care about the city. The people in it. Those career moves you're planning take time, are you still gonna feel this way in two years? In five? If Gorchakov slips by are you going to feel right taking those stripes?"
He stays silent. His eyes still holding yours.
"My investigation turned up a couple things." You continue. "But the main thing that stuck with me is Officer Derek Free. He was Gorchakov's partner before he went through his next partner which was the one you replaced."
"Alright?"
"He's dead." You state. Your mouth going dry, tasting slightly of acrid smoke. You sip at a black coffee and wash the taste away. "Gorchakov killed him, emptied an entire clip into his back."
"Jesus Christ.." Banks mumbles, his eyes finally breaking from yours.
"He's dangerous. I know you said no, but now you know as much as I do. If we miss Gorchakov then Free's death was for nothing, the deaths we don't know about, the lives he's ruined. It's all for nothing. That said, I understand if you still say no."
You watch his hands curl around his mug. His pallid, pale knuckles growing pink from the warmth.
It is the night of your wedding. You'd shown Chouxcreme the gift you planned to give her and she was surprised to find out that it was an alchemical artifact. From what Chouxcreme told you, alchemical artifacts are in limited supply and tend to be rather pricey.
For the ceremony, you and Choux had both invited friends from your guild. Framboise and Langoustine are both here, despite their busy schedules.
You're glad, because they're the first friends you made after moving to Tarrasque. You only wish your dad could see you get married.
By the way, how open do you want to be that you made the artifact that you present to Chouxcreme?
> Tell everyone that you made the artifact > Only tell Chouxcreme that you made the artifact >Don't tell anyone that you made the artifact >Write in
<span class="mu-i">"I refuse to believe that mankind has hope."</span> -Corrupted fragment recovered from extended data-meditation on newly restored relics
Having made a new... <span class="mu-i">buddy</span>, you enter the personal forge of another friend, who promises by ritual to help you uncover the secrets of the lost titan, Corvus Lictor.
You possess an amount of Strain equal to your Conditioning score. When attempting actions beyond your current capacity, you gain a point of Strain. Attempting to Strain while at maximum Strain will result in a Strain Check. During a Strain Check, roll 1d10 for every point of the relevant Parameter. Results that are 6 or above count as one success. Results of 10 count as two successes. Three successes must be rolled to avert a critical failure. Fail or pass, after a Strain Check, you cannot Strain again until you restore your Strain by seeking shelter.
<span class="mu-s">This quest allows you to designate a second-choice vote on decisions with three or more options before Write-Ins.</span> When votes are totaled, the option with the least votes for it will be removed, with votes for that option instead being changed to the second-choice of those voters. Second-choice votes are also used to break ties. This helps increase the accuracy of votes, but is not mandatory. Please specifically mark your second-choice as such if you do so.
Vote stay open for a minimum of six hours, but will usually take longer.
A note: My writing style is pretty dry, but don't mistake that for it being serious.
<span class="mu-i">Three years before seven days ago...</span>
Your name is Chlotsuintha, though in truth and Wisdom it has been long years since anyone - save yourself, of course - has called you such. Even father. 'Daughter' is his word for you, while 'Sty' is the call of the few familiar, kind others in your life, on the account of the layered Glamours which may hide away your Mystery-blanked eyes with Suggestions of lesions, growths and the aforementioned styes when you are not wearing your gauze and mask. Other others - either less familiar or less kind - will call you either 'you' or 'Leper' or 'Tall one', or if they are from away, perhaps 'Spoil' or 'Blackcap' or 'Rotter', or styles even more distant or unkind. Or more distant <span class="mu-i">and</span> unkind.
What no one has ever named you before is 'Witchlet', though in truth, to-day you woke as one! After a year of concerted wheedling and whinging you finally broke your father down; so it was that after weeks of lullabies of lectures preparing you, yester-day was your first practical lesson in the Mysteries from him ... that wasn't just dealing with your Glyphs or the Strangeness for hundredth time. No, you set and Socketed a Socketing Needle, and managed to Reach through a Socket and through a Conduit! The test was done with some little trifling Construct that father made up for the lesson that would blush when you managed the Reach, just a silly little thing, useful for nothing more than the lesson itself ... but since it became clear weeks ago that the lesson was going to be about Socketing Needles, all you could think about were his workbenches. The Glyphery, the Fetish-Foundry and yes, the Life-Loom; for even with you now knowing its terrible history, as well as being wrung out by the somber admonishment from father that came on the heels of learning that history, you cannot keep your thoughts turned away from it. Father spends more time on the Loom than at his desk reading and writing, or working at the other tables. There are weeks where he will spend more time with that Loom than with you, agonizing over the minute of some Construct, struggling for ... something or other, you know not what. He is not want to share such things. But! With no one else to take into his complete confidence, and mother ... elsewhere, you are like to be the only help, the only <span class="mu-i">heir</span> he ever will have. How long have you wanted to prove yourself to him?
