You were woken up from a midday nap by the grinding of the brakes as the train arrived at X-X Station (pronounced "Double Cross," according to a clerk), and thus missed the first opportunity to queue for a quick exit from the car, as you were still quite drowsy and groping around to ensure that your possessions had (also) arrived unperturbed. Now you have queued behind a pair of rotund priests (Reformists, you think), as they gingerly step onto the platform and lose themselves in the sea of people. There are more people here than you've ever seen in once place, at least since you were a child. It's hot: hotter than it would ever get in Iscthymia. At least it's a dry heat there. Here you can feel every layer of clothing beginning to drip. But you can't take off your jacket just yet. It's dangerous, you think.
If there is one thing you hate it's traveling over-encumbered, so, in the spirit of new beginnings, you packed only the bare essentials. There's a nagging feeling of regret as you begin to intuit that perhaps you wouldn't know what would really count as essential in this new chapter of your life, in Chaotzakka, with its fourteen million people. These are things you would've pondered on the train ride had you not dozed off immediately. You're carrying a hardshell briefcase, a backpack that's coming apart at the seams, and a little bum bag crossed over your shoulder. You lift your patrol cap to see more clearly; you don't want to remove it as your hair is almost certainly a mess, but the material is itchy. The cap and bag are from your year of mandatory civil service. The backpack is from your school days. The briefcase used to be your dad's.
You're trying to get used to the smells and sounds. It seems like everything ticks, rings, or thuds in this city. You are buffeted by a blast of hot steam and struggle to breathe for a moment. Unlike a country bumpkin such as yourself, city-dwellers know to back away from the train as soon as they get off. That's why they call the station the "sauna." Just a little sample of that big-city wit for you.
You thought you'd checked that you had everything before getting off the train, but a sudden irrational panic grips you and you fear having left your most important possession behind. But of course this isn't the case; you can feel its weight on your right hip. Still, just for assurance, you reach down with your free hand and grip your
*Universal Century 0079* What began as a bid for autonomy in Side 3 erupted into the most devastating war humanity has ever witnessed. Half of all human lives have already been lost in the first month alone. Entire colonies became tombs. Fleets lost to the vast silence of space. Countless cities on Earth reduced to rubble.
And now, in the aftermath of Operation British and Zeon's planetary invasion, one truth has become undeniable:
Mobile suits rule the battlefield.
The Principality of Zeon’s Zaku had reshaped warfare overnight. Now the Federation is scrambling, desperate, bleeding, trying to catch up before they lose the war entirely. Somewhere beneath the humid jungles of South America, the Federation begins a secret race against time.
You are ***Ian Voss***.
*Rank:* Lieutenant 1st Class *Assignment:* Join the Federation’s experimental “1st MS Team,” a prototype mobile-suit evaluation unit tasked with field-testing captured Zeon technology and accelerating the Federation’s crash-program to catch up in MS warfare. *Location:* Testing Annex 17, a dummy installation linked to Jaburo by a network of underground rail tunnels.
And right now, you’re sitting alone in a rattling transport car, watching the lights strobe across the curved metal walls as you glide through the dark.
Your wrist aches again. It always does, when you think about the last mission.
You rub at it absently, jaw tightening despite yourself. The pain is duller now; dulled by time, dulled by stubbornness. But, the frustration still lingers sharp and bitter in your chest. Your hand curls into a fist before you even realize it.
Somewhere ahead in the tunnel, a distant rumble rolls through the stone, pulling your thoughts away from the past. The transport car shivers, dust falls from the ceiling. The driver glances back at you, wide-eyed.
Another rumble. Closer. Then another. Sharper this time, a compressive thud echoing through the tunnel as if some giant above is hammering the earth itself.
“Uh… sir?” the driver mutters, pressing a hand to his headset. “You might want to-”
A burst of static. Shouting. Indistinct panic. The car slows, then squeals to a stop.
“-repeat, Annex 17 is under attack! We have confirmed enemy mobile suits-”
The driver lowers the receiver with a pale face.
“S-sir… we’ve been ordered to hold position until it’s safe to proceed.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“‘Hold position’? In a tunnel?”
“I.. I don’t want to drive straight into a battle zone! What if the tunnel collapses? What if a stray shot hits the entrance? What if-”
*BOOM.*
The tunnel trembles hard enough that the lights flicker. Somewhere far ahead, metal shrieks against stone.
You steady yourself with a hand on the wall.
“At the rate things are going,” you say calmly, “we’re not safer sitting here waiting for the ceiling to come down on us. Move.”
You are a CANONICALLY HOMOSEXUAL wizard man. You have an EPIC STAFF and also a WITCH'S BROOMSTICK which feels PRETTY REDUNDANT you think. You were thinking of hitting up a REDBOX to pick up a straight-to-dvd BROOMSPELL which is something like a MOVIE (your broom doubles as a DVD player)
"Gill and Kane, stay here and keep watch. Alert us if anybody sails near the wreckage. The rest of you, with me."
“Yessir, boss!”
Two men split off from the group and stand guard by the gaping hole that had allowed you all an entrance. It was a miracle the remains of the ship were afloat at all, nearly half of it shorn off by Sea Devil knows what. You count yourself lucky you weren't a part of the battle and count yourself even luckier that you and the rest of the bandits got here first.
Somehow, you doubt even your imagination can conceive the type of loot a ship from the fleet of an Emperor of the Sea might contain.
You proceed down the hallway, avoiding the gouges in the flooring and the dagger-sharp planks sticking out of the walls. The primary instinct that strikes you is to hover at the back of the pack, but there seems to be constant jockeying for position over there - no good bandit welcomes a backstabbing - so you stay where you are and keep your eyes and ears open. This wasn't your first job with these guys, but that was no invitation to let your guard down.
The boss kicks down a door and steps inside a room up ahead. With furtive looks at each other, the rest of you follow suit and funnel in. Scattered gasps and murmurs fill the silence of the chamber.
The chamber was chock-full of glittering, glorious treasure chests.
"Boys... we hit the JACKPOT!" The boss of the bandits nearly stumbles; such is his excitement in approaching the nearest chest. The rings on his hand clink together as he reaches for the clasp that separates riches from the ragged. One more step...
But of course, could it have ever been so simple?
"Boss!" the shout travels from the front of the wreck, faint, but not faint enough that you fail to discern the panic in his voice. "There's a pirate cre━!"
A crack of thunder swallows his final words. A body slumps to the ground on your left.
<span class="mu-i">Huh?</span>
It feels like time grounds to a halt for a precious few seconds, as your eyes trail from the corpse, to the hole where the bullet entered the room, to then finally land on the hole it left exiting. One bullet. Had you been a mere three steps to the left, that would’ve been your end.
All of you hit the deck. You wait a beat, but no further shots ring out. You peer over at the boss and notice that he’s still eyeing the chests, that familiar glint of greed in his eyes warring with fear and uncertainty.
What do you plan to do? >You’ll follow the boss’s orders; your best bet for staying alive is to stick with the others.
>You’ll betray the boss and the rest of the bandits at the first opportunity; you want all the treasure for yourself, and maybe you can use this chaos to your advantage.
>You’ll cut and run the moment you find a way; you don’t want to end up dead, even if treasure beckons.
>You’ll be arresting all of them; because you’re a Marine in disguise, conducting a sting operation.
you play as Argia Candente, a trainee Paladin of Ansàrra cursed since birth with silver hair. Now in your darkest hour, you try to understand whether your own Goddess has forsaken you, if your life is truly forfeit and if the Adversary’s offer has any merits…
# # # # # #
Welcome to the <span class="mu-s">seventh thread</span> of <span class="mu-b">Argia Candente</span>’s thrilling adventures! Our scatterbrained, silver-haired (sporting a D-cup, by player vote) Holy Knight-trainee with a penchant for daydreaming and plagued by self-doubt, on a quest to save her family from poverty and starvation.
>Admitted you can survive the next twelve hours, that is.
Now with the added thrill of you having been denounced as agent of the Adversary, your Master imprisoned, being separated from two of your friends, and the turncoat third one… has just birthed a world-ending Worm.
On top of that, you have been seemingly abandoned by the Sun-Birther, the goddess <span class="mu-s">Ansàrra</span>… and the Saint you have always cherished, Bragia Lacresta, has revealed herself to you as the Adversary, the infamous soul-collector, <span class="mu-s">The Stilladìa</span>… who is indirectly responsible for the ruin of your family.
At least, during last thread you got to strike her with an angel’s feather… for all the good it did.
You have suffered through many an ordeal (pictured in the images below), but this time… this time it could be the <span class="mu-i">end</span>… or a new beginning.
For what is a Paladin without a Goddess to hold onto, and what happens when your own faith turns against you?Someone might have an answer… someone who was with you since the very beginning. Though you might not like the Stilladìa’s answers. Was any medicine ever sweet? Or poison…
So, without further ado, let’s take a look at where we come from.
<span class="mu-s">And then let’s decide together where we are going.</span>
You are Charlotte Fawkins, Herald and heroine. With the power of your positive spirit, you have overcome deceit, defeat, and divine possession, and now you are going to save the world. First, though, you need to defeat your nemesis Jean Ramsey in single combat.
Your fall through Ramsey's cloak is short, and your landing is soft (though you're displeased to discover the tail interferes with any cool forward roll). You are in blackness. You're not certain what you anticipated.
When you stand, you spy the Crown first, then the mask, then the snake, then, and only then, do you make out the rest of Ramsey: she's 20 feet away, her cloak camouflaging her near-perfectly. You suppose this is her head, or pocket dimension, or... wherever. Ramsey's axe, taller than her body, glossy black, is camouflaged too, only visible by its glint: the Crown is shedding faint white light.
You draw The Sword— its flames do nothing to illuminate the space, but it seems like the appropriate thing to do. Ramsey cocks her head. "Boy, you sure are a pain in the ass, aren't you?"
The snake, glossy beige, loops down around her shoulders. =Like father, like daughter. Isn't that right, Wingnut.=
God-damnit! How much have you been spied on? You clench The Sword, refusing to rise to the bait, but it wasn't set out for you— Richard shimmers into existence by your side. His hand is on your shoulder. "She is my <span class="mu-i">client.</span> Do not drag her—"
"Hey, who the fuck is that?" Ramsey says.
=Wow. What the hell is that. I'd be laughing if I wasn't in-chassis, so use your imagination. Or don't. Here: ha ha ha ha ha.= =This is what you have been reduced to. Human. And an inferior physical specimen at that. I don't know what I expected. Ha ha ha ha.= =This is how your -daughter- thinks of you. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.=
"I dunno, Snickers. They don't really look anything alike?" You get the impression that Ramsey is squinting. "Is that actually your <span class="mu-i">snake?</span> Shit! I didn't know they turned into people!"
=The competent ones don't. Isn't that right, Wingnut.=
"I am perfectly satisfied with my current state of affairs, <span class="mu-i">Snickers.</span> It has posed no obstacle to my success with my client."
=You mean it's posed no obstacle to -my- success with -my- client. Thanks for the Crown, by the way. Couldn't have ushered in the Dawn without—=
"Oh, yeah! The Crown! Wow! Talk on your own time, Snickers, thanks bunches." Ramsey pushes the snout of her snake upwards. "Charlotte Fawkins."
You've been trying to think of cool things to say. "Yes, evildoer?"
"Ohoho! Evildoer! Nice one. You stole Wayne's crystal, didn't you?"
You did, and thank God for it. It's under the armor, against your chest, hidden by your Magyckal Aura. "No."
Welcome to /qtg/, a place to talk about quests. Previous thread >>6271040
>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 (doesn't work in OP)
>QM Question: If you allow write-ins, what are the best and worst you've ever gotten that received votes? How often do you get write-ins better than your actual options? If you don't allow write-ins, why not? Would you ever consider it?
>Player Question: How much do you take in-quest discussion into your vote? Do you just show up and vote? What would get you to engage with quests more if you don't already?
>General Question: How would you get more voters to engage with quests other than just voting? Have you ever done an in-quest event for your players? If so, what?
>Lurker Question: There is no question, vote.
>Miscellaneous Question: Any big plans for the last part of the year? Get anything big done over the summer?
Frieden Moon, Greencoat Pilot of the Zodiac Alliance of Freedom Treaty (ZAFT) militia enters into potentially the most impactful revolution of the Bloody Valentines War... And so it would be that the War, having entered a standstill. <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-s">Begins the tentative turn of the page over its outcome</span></span>
And all day and all night and everything you see is just blue, like you. Inside and outside. Blue your house with the blue little window and a blue Corvette, and everything is blue for you and yourself and everybody around cause you ain't got nobody to listen.
You're Blue Daba Dee Daba Dye. You have a blue house with a blue window. Blue is the color you bought that you wear. Blue are the streets and all the trees are too. You have a girlfriend, and she is So Blue. Blue are the people here that walk around. Blue like your Corvette is sitting outside. Blue are the words you say and what you think. Blue are the feelings that live inside you.
Of course, thats not particularly special. You're Blue, everyone is Blue. Everyones last name, is Blue. Family Lineage is gone, replaced by chromatic unity. You're a Harmonic Resonance Technician which manages the Azur Light Wave Emitter
Your mind is completely numb and empty. The thumping bass has you pacified into total compliance. But... As you're adjusting the circuitry, there's an error. A split second of a different color. A brilliant spark of yellow. Its... Like nothing you've ever seen before. Beautiful, how its shine radiates off the circuitry. Your mind is hazy... If the Azure Inquisition were to see this you would lose social credits, going from Exemplary to Deviant, being thrown directly into the Cobalt Correctional Facility to be Re-Blued. ---------- 1) Repress your feelings for the different color. You are Blue Daba Dee Daba Dye. Your only feelings are blue. Think of your blue house, with the blue little windows, and the blue corvette. How would So Blue react if she knew you weren't true blue?
2) Take a picture of the sparks happening, to remember, and observe it in secret.
This is but one of the legends of which the people speak...
Long ago, there existed a kingdom where a <span class="mu-s">golden power</span> lay hidden. It was a prosperous land blessed with green forests, tall mountains, and peace.
But one day, a <span class="mu-r">man of great evil</span> found the golden power and took it for himself. With its strength at his command, he spread darkness across the kingdom. But then, when all hope had died, and the hour of doom seemed at hand...
...a <span class="mu-g">young boy clothed in green</span> appeared as if from nowhere. Wielding the blade of evil's bane, he sealed the dark one away and gave the land light.
What became of the hero is lost to myth, another mystery of the past casting a long shadow. In one village, it is customary that when children come of age, they make a pilgrimage to the <span class="mu-s">nearby ruins</span>, and bring back an <span class="mu-s">artifact</span>. In doing so, they bring what was left in the dark to the light, and keep their history alive.
You are from that village, and today you turn 18, and must make your own pilgrimage. Your father was an archeologist at <span class="mu-s">Hyrule University</span>, and now that it is your day to recover an <span class="mu-s">artifact</span>, you are determined to follow in his footsteps with your diligence.
But shadows hang over more than the past, now. A <span class="mu-r">ruthless warlord</span> has rallied an army, and has laid siege to <span class="mu-s">Hyrule castle</span> for nearly a year, seeking to claim the golden power. Darkness gathers across the kingdom, and shadows stretch ever farther each passing day...
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-g">Welcome to LOZ: Umbral Tower, where you will play an unlikely hero destined to save the kingdom from a neverending shadow. In this game you will roll pools of D6s based on your stats, which will improve over time, against competing pools of D6s, where 5's and 6's are considered successes. Ties normally go to the aggressor, not the defender. I may tweak this as we go.</span></span>
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-g">This quest will probably roll very slowly and sporadically. I will roll a 1d2 or similar to break ties if they drag.</span></span>
