You are Cindy Moon; Warrior Priest of Khonshu, Ward of Ben Parker, Part-time local vigilante. And, just recently, you somehow obtained the title of "Slayer" from an ancient Vampire Lord with an evil agenda. Between going to school, fighting bad guys, wrangling an overeager sidekick and dealing with an <span class="mu-s">insane</span> amount of family drama, now you're expected to potentially help save the world! No pressure.

Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Max%20Spider%20Quest

Last time: After accepting the help of Wilhelmina the Blood Witch, Cindy defeated her brother Ward, and not only managed to convince him to stand down, but got the rest of Monster Council to stop fighting each other, and instead direct their anger at the creature responsible for deceiving them all: Varnae, The First Vampire!

Thanks to her quick thinking, she and the council made it out of Varnae's trap in one piece, and reconvened at a tavern in Monster Metropolis. There, she learned that her new blue friend was actually a clone mashup of Beast and Wolverine, and that the mutant scientist (Hank McCoy) had offered his help to Varnae, Skul the Slayer, and the current ruler of Limbo, Belasco.

Now that they know who their enemies truly are, Cindy and her group devise a plan to appeal to the Kaiju King, in hopes that he can muster up an army for the battle to come.

Will the Kaiju King's help be enough to save the day? Is Cindy capable of slaying something as old and powerful as Varnae, or even Belasco? And why is a member of the X-Men lending aid to a bunch of monsters?

Find out more in the latest issue of…<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">MAXIMUM SPIDER QUEST!</span></span>

Rules:
Most dice rolls will be 1d100. Modifiers will be added depending on the situation or on the alien being used(Usually +10 or -10). Crit successes and crit fails apply. Crit fails can be overridden by crit successes, but crit failures cannot override crit successes.

How to Roll:
To roll dice, type “dice+1d100” in the options field without the quotations. To roll dice with positive modifiers, type “dice+1d100+modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number. To roll dice with negative modifiers, type “dice+1d100+-modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number.

Pastebins:

Character Sheet:
https://pastebin.com/1ZihFYSV

Equipment and Gear:
https://pastebin.com/WAhveFAd

Contacts:
https://pastebin.com/WdcFXD2s

10 Commandments of the Desperados:
https://pastebin.com/Qpr2jVPE

Costumes:
https://pastebin.com/5Jie54X2

The Huntsman’s Travel Guide:
https://pastebin.com/PU6LWsip

Upcoming Events in the Maximum Universe:
https://pastebin.com/DceSEjiR

Good luck and have fun!

For many eons, magicka has been a practiced and honored tradition. Considered a gift from the gods themselves, only those born within special bloodlines, or lucky enough to have traces of it in their blood can wield it's magnificence. With such power of course, comes authority. Mages of all kinds are heavily regulated by the Archon's, a prestigious class of Magi whom have not only mastered their craft, but have earned their seat through fantastical feats not previously known to be possible. The Archons operate and govern the Pillar of Magi. An incredibly tall tower, with a fortress like structure built around it's base.

It's here where many wildlings, noble blooded families, and all in between find housing to practice their craft and channel their mana. Though the area this huge fortress covers is not strictly for schooling purposes, it's basically it's own governed landmass. There are many others that mirror the Pillar itself, but none come close to it's size, population, or prestige.

Now our eyes fall upon you, someone that perhaps not even the Archon of Time could have foreseen coming. Just who are you, who comes to this sacred settlement?

>Tell us your name

>I am a wildling. Born from a tribe composed mostly of those born without the gift, however, I was an exception. My parents brought me here as an infant, hoping for me to receive a better life.

>I am from one of the many noble families, my parents, and closest relatives have helped me hone my abilities here and there. I was sent here to further my education, and to uphold my family name by becoming an Archon.

>I come from a house with no prestigious name. Some of my relatives were born with the gift, none are, or have ever been exceptional with their abilities. I am here for the opportunity to stand out from them.

Lastly, of course. What ARE you?
>Male
>Female

>Human
>Elf
>Half Elf

To wit; it cannot be gainsaid that the Many Mysteries are well-without the purview of Flegmat, or any other author herein this Canon; truly, it is that they would write of Mysterious Medicine and Healing Arts with the same authority as a Counter-Clerk would of chirurgery! However, here Flegmat wrestles – gainfully, mind – with the long-historied role that those who Delved had on the mundane study of Humorous Nature. His accounting of the rise into good-grace of the Fourfold Theory is well-fleshed, though not novel to anyone passably read. The account of the subsequent fall from good-grace and the too-incremental acceptance of its successor, the Comprehensive Theory - elsewhere named as the Singular or the Singular Comprehensive Theory - is novel, controversial, and in the eyes of some, perhaps even dangerous. As its inclusion was not a decision gently made nor borne, so it may be said that it being rendered here at all is testament to the strength of Flegmat's argumentation, and the butcher's bill that the slow adoption of Singular Theory has needlessly wrought.

- A preface from a Stricken printing of <span class="mu-i">The Canon of Medicine</span>, a collection of writings on medical history by a number of authors. The Fourfold Theory held that for man there is an internal alchemical balance of phlegm, blood and bile - both yellow and black - and that when balance between these four is lost, illness and malady are inevitable. The Comprehensive Theory holds that there is but one 'family' of Humors, not four - hence Singular - and that it is the presence of these Humors, not the balance of them, that are responsible for illnesses. Medical interventions that ascribe to the Comprehensive Theory of Humors are more successful than those that ascribe to the Fourfold Theory, though as the Comprehensive Theory was developed by Witches as opposed to Physicians, its adoption in the fields of Mundane medicine has been slow, partially on account of the inclement association, but primarily as any benefits from implementing the theory in practice were misattributed to Mysterious Medicine, and were assumed to be beyond mundane practitioners.

<span class="mu-i">In Scrimshaw Mount, all graves are shallow. Even on the Promontory, where Nature, through the permutations of the Pattern had placed soil on the otherwise nude basalt of the Mount, the bone white stone was never more than a few feet down, commonly less than one. As such, getting graves to the standard depth of eight feet was simply not practical for those interned in the Mount's public burying grounds. But those that lived their lives and died their deaths on the Mount didn't take overmuch umbrage at their shallow graves. For both the practical and pious among them understood full well that under the panopticonical Gaze of the Patternmaker Above … all things are shallow.</span>

In the history of humankind, war has been a constant. Over resources, land or ideology, warfare has been the front at which humanity found itself time and time again. When dozens of atomic bombs peppered the United States of America in atomic hellfire more than 200 years ago, the world as it once was ended. Society and order ceased to exist, and anarchy reigned supreme. Some sheltered in Vaults, spared the worst of the suffering deep underground… or exposed to an entirely unprecedented form of it. In the ashes of the old world, a new one was born. The fledglings of humanity survived and forged a new world with brutal, unforgiving rules.

Raiding. Murder. Theft. Destruction. But also, hope. Hope that things could return to how they once were, or move in a new direction entirely, casting off the shackles of folly that led America to ruin. But with hope came fear and conflict, discontent and brutality. Every step taken was taken with bloody footprints. Because war… war never changes.

==============================

It’s no secret to anybody that the landscape of America changed dramatically after the Great War. New creatures emerged from the irradiated wastes, the land shifted and became filled with new plant life twisted and bent into strange shapes. Even the ground itself was altered in many places. In one such case, the Outer Banks of North Carolina became the shattered, flooded Broken Banks. Flotsam and wreckage littered amidst drenched islands and raft-masses, while the mainland’s coast was filled with all manner of blasted boardwalks, trading posts and shantytowns.
The further south a soul travels, the more flooded the land becomes. South Carolina is a mired, messy swamp patrolled only by the grandest of mirelurks and the most savage of tribes, while the untamed wilds of Florida boast drenchghoul cults and radgators of truly epic proportions. All in all, a severely inhospitable section of the wasteland.

Past Thread: >>6183798
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Missval
General Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/5hFQZtc3
Character Sheet (Back to the good old days, for now): https://pastebin.com/xA4G6LMk
Twitter/X account for important announcements, contact and stuff: https://x.com/MissvalQM

Your name is Shelly Suzume. A member of the White Fang. You didn’t start out this way, and you certainly never expected to join them, but at least it’s temporary. Probably. Then again, you did receive an offer to lead one of its branches. The idea is… enticing, but it’s something you still need to think about, especially since that branch happens to be in one of the scummiest places imaginable.

Speaking of scum, you just witnessed one of the most… interesting meetings you’ve ever attended. You saw most of Kuchinashi’s underworld big shots with your own eyes. Then again, at this point, the entire city is the underworld. You probably left a good impression on them. Maybe.

Your boss, Taylor, just allied himself with the Black Sheep. That doesn’t exactly sit well with you, but, well… politics aren’t really your thing. Or at least, you haven’t had much reason to deal with them, yet. If you accept Taylor’s offer, that might change.

Oh! And also. You infiltrated a Black Sheep’s underground weird warehouse-gallery-tunnel thing. Nothing too bad here. Just a few bodies here and there. Poor souls, victims of… something.

And to top it all off with a golden brooch, you accidentally ran into (most likely) the two most dangerous people in all of Kuchinashi. Maybe even Mistral. Just skulking around, exploring the same warehouses as you.

---

"You're not the first to come here. You won't be the last to disappear without a name or bones."
There is a hole in the world made of dust and blood. You came to the entrance. By choice? By desperation? It doesn't matter. Everything you were is behind you. Here, what matters is what you can bear to lose.

Choose the one who will carry the burden of descending.

>Lars, the Bear
"The skin is human. The roar is not."
No one knows where he came from — only that he descended from the mountains covered in scars and silence. He walks naked, immune to the cold. He fights with his bare fists and sleeps curled up. They say he is possessed. They say he is an animal dreaming it’s a man. Lars corrects no one.
>Skill: Grappling — Lars relies solely on brute strength and his own fists, scornful of weapons and armor. This unlocks grappling maneuvers, such as clinching, throws, and takedowns.


>Nature:
>Brave: Lars is tolerant of pain and difficult to frighten or intimidate; however, he believes himself to be immortal.
or
>Integrity: Lars is tolerant of pain and difficult to frighten or intimidate; however, he pursues the right thing and does his best to get others to do so as well.


>Motivation: During the night, demons climb the mountain to tear people apart. Now, as the nights grow longer, Lars hunts for the solution within Belarmino’s brutal lair... or perhaps he intends to devour him.
>Hal, the Hare
"She saw. No one else saw. She fled. No one else fled."
One day, someone loved her. A mage. A monster. He used her as a test subject for a spell that required forcefully opening the mind. After barely escaping the ordeal, Hal exiled herself indefinitely, fleeing from the aftermath of the spell.
>Skill: Cowardice — Hal can attempt to flee without using an action once per encounter, with an increased chance to escape traps and deadly encounters. Allies, however, will be left behind.


>Nature: Null Presence — She reduces the chance of random encounters when alone. Incapable of creating bonds, though.


>Motivation: To escape from her pursuer and seek liberation and spiritual asylum from a holy man.
>Anika, the Rosebed
"She was laughing when she was born — a satanic omen."
Born of a dead mother and a ray of light, Anika carries the gift of healing the living with light. The dungeon will try to corrupt her. Good luck with that.
>Skill: Miracle — Heals allies. However, doing so lights her up like a Christmas tree to supernatural entities. Some can be dangerous.


>Nature: Purity — She won’t cause harm to living beings and is resilient against corruption and possession.


>Motivation: Belarmino seeks her as an offering. She descends into the dungeon not to fight… but to try to save him from what he has become.

You are a Cutémon!

You are one of the rarest types of mon: a mon that looks like a cute human girl!

Like all mons, you gain energy by fighting and defeating other mons. Your trainer is the human boy Joe Apple of Patina.

Your name is <span class="mu-s">Hoik Broadback</span>, a young Vetucker man in the Hegemony. While your exact age by solar cycles is difficult to determine, due to being born on a far away planet from your homeworld with an elipitcal orbit; you are categorized by your Jaxtian-Standard Biological Aging rate to be <span class="mu-i">Eighteen Years</span> old.

As with all Hegemonic citizens, your time is evenly split between training, work, social time, and play. You have a pretty busy schedule with a scarce few hours a day for leisure, but that's okay. It's expected for guys your age, plus you volunteered to help clean the workshop today. You put some of your things into a locker as you hear a musical voice call out from behind.

<span class="mu-b">”Hi Hoik~!”</span>

You feel flushed as you turn and see the owner of that voice, one <span class="mu-s">Ophia Ulantri</span>, a Jaxtian girl who's been in a lot of your classes. And she works in the facility too, just in a different department. You try to lean back against the locker, but can't figure out where to put your hands.

~ NOVEMBER 5 2008 ~

Your name is Aspen Foster. For a good portion of your adult life, you have been working within the political scene of the most beautiful state in the union, Colorado. Nobody outside of the state knew you very well, but you had become a familiar face for those who pay attention to your state’s politics.

You are as moderate as they come. Your policies are nothing revolutionary. Nobody is your die-hard supporter and nobody has a seething anger towards you. You are a milquetoast, inoffensive liberal who is perfectly content with staying out of the spotlight and passing completely average and expected laws.

You successfully ran for the Denver city council in 1995. You were elected mayor of that same city in 1999. After losing re-election in 2003, you decided to run for the Colorado House of Representatives the very next year, where you’ve been ever since.

You have been satisfied with the direction of your career. After narrowly winning re-election in Colorado’s lower chamber, you were prepared for two more years of middling legislation. That was, at least, until you received a call from the last person you expected.

“Mr. President.”

Well, not officially president yet. He had just yesterday been elected, but has yet to be inaugurated. Those few months between Election Day and January 20th are mostly focused on one thing. His cabinet. Even though it’s one of the few topics you could’ve expected from him during this time, it still came as such a shock when you hear his voice on the other end of the phone tell you that he is considering you for a position. For a progressive, national figure such as him to want you in his cabinet is nothing short of a product of divine intervention.

“I-…I would be honored, sir.”

He gives you a list of positions that are open, whether that is because the others are taken or he wants somebody else appointed to it. After a few more minutes of brief conversation and letting the president-elect know that you will consider your options, you say your goodbyes and hang up the phone.

“Lord have mercy…”

You decide that you need to go for a walk, even if it is the middle of the afternoon with the sun quickly setting. You just need to breathe in some fresh air. You tell your wife, Meredith, that you are going out and grab the essentials. Phone. Wallet. Keys. Then you’re out.

“I mean, this is so sudden…”

You are satisfied with your station in life. You’ve always believed in modesty as a virtue and too much ambition can kill. However, being a member of the president’s cabinet gives you more opportunities. Not for yourself, but for others. To better people’s lives one policy at a time. That was the main reason you decided to become a politician in the first place. By the time you walk through the front door to your townhouse again, you’ve made up your mind. You will join the president’s cabinet. Now it’s just a matter of which position you will take.

(1/2)

Turn 20

The bloody paroxysms that swept the land of Pavilion seem to have quelled for a touch. In the east, great armies march to vanquish greater evils, in the west the spread of conquering nations are slowed against walls of vines and steel. The nations grow ever more interconnected, the Tyrns Without Summer receding into memory as the larders are stocked full with an ever-growing variety of fruits and meats. With food, trade, and peace aplenty, it is no wonder that the scholars of the land express hope for an imminent flowering of the arts and sciences. Of course, only time will tell if better natures will rise to such ideals.

>We're currently full-on players, though that can change with short notice. If you're interested, join our discord. The invite code is: F2Patcf.

>>6186351
>Skrit colonies
The swarm is on the move! Ants move by the thousands, then tens of t housands. Their first objective is the defense of Delta. No clever masonry goes into these defense however, only a vast trench that is carved out, heaped up, then riddled through with hundreds of skrit tunnels. Delta secured the swarm turns outward, colonists flooding into Krawl and Vitruvian lands. In Vitruvian lands the Skrit meets sharp resistance in the form of Sabbatical, the Vitruvian corpse puppeting plant. Without a dedicated military force the Skrit expansion is pushed back into the sparsely inhabited jungles. The expansions in the Krawl infested jungles to the south however will sway to the winds of fate however as the two hiveminds clash against each other.