For centuries, in the cradle of civilization, the faith of man has been rocked back and forth like the salty tides of the Red Sea.
Once the Gods of the Old Age allowed themselves to be conquered by modern kings, mankind found itself without purpose or direction. Soon, mankind realized they were yearning for supernatural intervention.
Minor Gods arose from man's abundant faith and began to learn to enforce their divine will as belief in them grew. In their nascent state, the Gods do not yet have the power to directly speak or show themselves to mankind, yet they still find ways to lead new believers to their Domain and Commandments. Which Gods will be elevated into the Pantheon of this New Age?
In this quest, each player takes on the role of a God, and attempts to expand their supernatural reach. Players can join at any time!
Create your God! >Name >Domain >Appearance >Commandments
The year is 1374 DR. Sixteen years have passed since the Time of Troubles, when the gods were made humble, and forced to wander the Realms as mortals. With the ascension of the mad god Cyric, Prince of Lies, and the recent return of the tyrant god Bane, Lord of Darkness, the future of Faerûn seems increasingly uncertain. It falls to bold individuals who possess an abundance of cunning, might, and determination to shape the future... should they be up to the challenge.
Fitting the cart upon which the alchemist's womb rests through the portal leading into the High Sorcerer's tower proves a laborious task. Mustering the strength of every sinew of muscle in your body, you manage to force the blasted thing through the other end with a mighty heave. Exerting yourself to guarantee that your precious cargo gradually comes to rest in a stable position, you take in a lungful of the supernaturally clear spire air and shut your eyes, enjoying a brief respite before ascending the spiral staircase leading to the pentagonal main chamber.
Opposite to you is the overlarge bookshelf. Once packed from end-to-end with esoteric literature, a veritable army of what you reason to be invisible hands work tirelessly to pack away each work inside of a trunk. The sheer volume of books stored away inside leads you to conclude that the interior is larger than the exterior would suggest - a common feature of magical containers, although the mechanics of this function elude you.
In the dawn of civilization, where humanity takes its first faltering steps toward order and progress, you rise from the mists of obscurity, a being of unparalleled might and mystery. You are no mere mortal—your very presence inspires awe and terror. Whether born from ancient magic, forged in the fires of the earth, or summoned by forces beyond comprehension, your power eclipses that of the common folk like a blazing sun outshines the stars.
The villages are fragile and disorganized, their people too preoccupied with survival to dream of greatness. They huddle together, building simple shelters, planting meager crops, and whispering fearful prayers to spirits they cannot see. Yet you stand apart, your strength undeniable, your potential limitless.
The world itself seems to acknowledge your presence. The earth trembles beneath your steps, storms gather at your command, and the faint-hearted flee before your shadow. You see the cracks in the fragile order of early society, and you realize this nascent world is a blank slate—a canvas on which you can paint your legacy.
Why should you bow to the whims of lesser beings? With your gifts, you could forge an empire, become a deity in the eyes of mortals, or bend their fledgling societies to your will. Whether you will rule with wisdom and justice, reshape the world in your vision, or crush all who oppose you beneath your heel, the choice is yours.
But power does not come without its burdens. For all your strength, there is something within or around you that holds you back—a curse, a flaw, or a challenge that even you must face. This weakness, small as it may seem now, has the potential to unravel your plans if left unchecked.
The world is yours to command, but greatness comes with a price. What will yours be?
Your name is Shelly Suzume. You are an ex-huntress—at least, you think so. It’s complicated. A lot has happened over the last few weeks. You’ve discovered a conspiracy that may be affecting the entire kingdom of Mistral, you may have a lead on what’s happening with your mental condition, and last but not least, you’ve joined the White Fang.
Yeah, you know how wrong it sounds. They’re a vicious group and all of that, but it’s not like you’re a formal member. It’s more like you’re hanging out with them, helping with tasks now and then, living with them, and helping the new recruits by teaching them some self-defense.
Now that you think about it, perhaps saying that you’re not a part of them may be just coping. But it’s not like you did it out of hatred for humans or anything. It was all because of the circumstances. There are some genuinely good people among them, and they are helping you with your investigation in return. You help them, they help you. And your hands are still mostly clean. It’s not like you’ve started robbing people, assaulting convoys, or taking hostages…
Maybe joining was a bad idea. You’re starting to have doubts. Is this truly the right path for you? Well, you’re not really that tied to them, and you don’t owe them anything. You can easily walk away whenever you want. You’ll stay in touch until it stops being beneficial to you, maybe. Gods, this is stressful. Maybe you shouldn’t think about it too much.
Nine years ago King Aiden Perenolde betrayed the Alliance and sided with the Horde of Orgrim Doomhammer. Nine years ago Prince Alric Perenolde, the second heir of Alterac was sent into exile for his own protection. This exile turned permanent and Captain Normand Garside, your guardian for the past nine years made sure that you were safe and learned the useful skills that would help you in the future.
Now you are ready to carry the responsibility and unite the scattered Alteraci people and reclaim the lands that were once the Kingdom of Alterac.
Your interrogation of Astu of Laughing Skull Clan had proven to be useful. You had learned that he was a messenger between Grom Hellscream and Thrall, but out of want to uphold your honour you didn’t pry into the messages he was carrying. But what made the interrogation really useful was what happened after it. Pai the Assassin had eavesdropped you and Eligius talking and had heard nearly all the details. In her want to get away from The Syndicate, she easily lockpicked her way out of the cell and gave you a proposition. She would deliver the messages and stay hiding with the Frostwolf Clan.
But she also revealed something more important, something you have to act upon. Pai told you that you have a little sister Alicia Perenolde and that she is being held by Lord Creedy of The Syndicate as a royal hostage. And so you hatched a plan. Pai and your spymaster Eligius with the help of Sir Cyrus, Otto Wanz and Bill Rover, would venture into Alterac, rescue Alicia Perenolde and try to assassinate Lord Creedy. While Pai was delivering the message to the Frostwolves, Eligius would prepare the rest of the mission. And while you were out campaigning, that mission would be launched.
And now you are in Durnholde Keep taking the last few steps before the combined force of humans march into war against the gnolls. With Lord Colonel Garithos again having lost his temper and having embarrassed himself, you claimed the command of the campaign without much opposition.
The success of this campaign and the fate of hundreds of men was now on your shoulders.
Welcome to /qtg/, a place to talk about quests. Mods please don't delete this, the other one hit the image limit while it was on page 5. Previous thread (it hit the image limit early) >>6102738
>What is a quest? An interactive story in which a Quest Master (QM) writes and provides the readers with options on how to proceed — similar to a choose-your-own-adventure book or an old text adventure
>Formatting guide: Only the thread's OP can format. Note that should the OP change ID, they will lose this ability as well. Remove the spaces between the [] brackets and the letters: Bold: <span class="mu-s">text</span> Italics: <span class="mu-i">text</span> Red: [ red ] <span class="mu-r">text</span> [ /red ] Blue: [ blue ] <span class="mu-b">text</span> [ /blue ] Green: [ green] <span class="mu-g">text</span> [ /green ]
>Formatting guide for everyone: Dice (type this in “options”): dice + [no. of dice]d[no. of sides on the dice] (optionally you can add modifiers: dice + [no. of dice]d[no. of sides on the dice]+[modifier]; for a negative modifier type: +-[modifier]
Examples: dice+1d100 = a 1d100 roll, dice+1d100+10 = a 1d100 roll with a +10 modifier.
Spoiler: spoiler or by pressing alt+s in-thread
>QM question: Does your MC celebrate Halloween? What is their favorite Halloween activity? Are they a tricker or a treater?
>Player question: What would your favorite quest character dress up as for Halloween? What's their favorite Halloween candy?
>General question: Do you do anything for different seasons/holidays in the quests you read/write? Do you wish there was more of that sort of thing, or do you find it disruptive?
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 were just a regular person attending university in his 20s. Studies took up your days and on your free time you would choose to play video games or hang out with your friends.
That is until the intrusive thoughts came...
Friends in your dorm suddenly noticed you began acting strangely, fatigued, jumpy, anxious. Your studies began to suffer. Then your family started asking if there was something wrong as they received worrying reports from the school about your condition.
You tried to keep going as if everything was normal...and fine...and peachy....until one day you just couldn't do it anymore.
And. You. Just. SNAPPED!
(This is a CYOA where you play as a schizo in modern day and depending on your choices, your schizo can end up differently. Not all of them "good", not all of them "bad". Examples of different outcomes include being a Orthodox Christian Monk in a Monastry attempting to achieve unity with God or a O9A Satanic Neo Nazi insurgent or a wandering vagabond who collects spare bottles for cash and many more.)
For now choose the nature of your intrusive thoughts:
A.) Religious: Your Schizo is suffering from intrusive thoughts relating to that of a religious nature. Your schizo has never thought about religion before but now seems to be getting signs from the divine and has no idea what to do with it.
B.) Paranoid: It started with doubts whether your friends liked you but now it has blown into full paranoia over whether strangers want to harm you or not. Your eyes wander every corner, every nook and cranny for any possible means to bring damage to your soft supple body.
C.) Narcissistic: Your schizo is seeing himself in a brand new light. Some would say holy light if your schizo believes in such things. He at least believes himself to be a gift to humanity and sees himself as superior in almost every way and can't stand it when someone breaks his ego even in the tiniest of ways.
D.) Violent: Your schizo is suffering from violent intrusive thoughts which constantly fill him with the visualization of harming others. Cutting people, bashing their heads or breaking their bones are all thoughts that have made it to your schizo one way or another. What your schizo does in response to this is up to you.
E.) Write up your own option of what intrusive thoughts your schizo has been plagued with.
Please help me find my little sister. She is currently staying in a hotel, but she refuses to tell us her location. We are deeply concerned because we believe she might be under duress or being blackmailed.
This is a screenshot from a video she sent us to reassure us that she’s 'safe.' If anyone can recognize the hotel or provide any information, please let us know immediately. We are desperate to bring her home safely.
The screen flashes on and a smooth practiced voice travels out.
“Good ~ Morning, Salcot! I’m your host, Mike, who is joined today by Deputy Sarah. Today at Half-lid News Network, we have a loaded headline to get through, so let’s go at it.”
“Today an official report of vigilantes taking shots at various criminal gangs infesting Darkrock has turned into an all-out war between the two with police getting involved at the scene! Why don’t you tell us more about that Deputy?”
A small woman in a police uniform is shown on camera.
“Yes, while on patrol I got a call about an explosion near the abandoned factory-”
<span class="mu-s">*Click*</span>
“The new laws and regulation on magical artifacts and usage has seen a lot controversy- ”
<span class="mu-s">*Click*</span>
“Beauty, is a thing we all crave. So why not take it? With the new Mark IV facial plates, you can remove that ugly thing of the past, and become who you are truly meant to be.”
<span class="mu-s">*Click*</span>
“They can call me crazy, a loony, a fool, or whatever they want. But I’m telling you folks now! Those at the top want to harvest us for evil! Take our children and do deep secret blood rituals to become immor-
<span class="mu-s">*Click*</span>
The display is cut to black, then a sign fills the room. Your head turns to look out from the window.
Rain pours on a metropolitan landscape. Neon lights illuminate the clouds, with various blues, pinks, and reds reflecting off the dark weather. Far away from that, from the convenience of luxury, wealth of kings, and decadence of empires, lies the slums, back alleys, and industrial sectors that keep the dream going.
The streets are filled with decade-old car models on their last legs. Gangs of urchins, street workers, or homeless people can be heard coughing and milling about their day. Faces a mix of anger, gloom, or apathy. In the mix of it all, there is you.
On the second floor of a run-down apartment, you look upon the scene before muted footfalls of a person and a hand slams into the door, startling you out of your idle observation. A hoarse voice boomed through.
“Time to earn your pay, wake up!”
Reality hits you all at once, the soreness of your back, the stale air, and the biting cold of the room. The only furniture in sight is a ratty bed and a TV stand with a small flat-screen fished out of the garbage. It may not be much but it’s yours.
