Your name is Aspen James Foster. For the past 98 days, you have been the President of the United States. It is not a fair world. If it were, you wouldn’t be sitting in the Oval at all. Your largest concerns would be about funding for whichever national parks are not receiving enough tourists. But it’s not a fair world. Just a few bombs in the Capitol building promoted you from a nobody Secretary of the Interior to the most powerful man in the free world. Now your priorities are keeping the country running, managing a half-empty Congress, handling multiple constitutional controversies and (most notably) fighting a war against the organization that caused this turmoil. All of this while trying to secure a full term in the White House in your own right.
You are currently on a flight to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. There you will make your case to bring more nation states on to join the coalition against this terrorist group.
“Bobby, was it?”
“Huh? Oh, uh…yes, Mr. President.”
“Please, just Foster.”
You gesture to your assistant. Well, one of your assistants. He’s a new member of your staff, and that’s about all you know.
“We’re about to land. Can you give me a recap on the situation?”
“I can, sir- Sorry, I mean Foster.”
Bobby places the binder in his hand onto your desk, flipping through the pages.
“On January 24th 2012, the terrorist group Mujahideen for the Sake of God—MFSA for short detonated a series of specifically placed bombs in the Capitol building. The operation was orchestrated by the head of the MFSA, Rajab al-Hai. al-Hai utilized insider c-”
You raise your hand for Bobby to stop.
“Alright, I know all this. What’s next?”
“Uhm…right, yeah. Let’s see…”
The kid flips through the pages in his binder. You sigh.
“Ah! Okay, here we are. Ever since Operation Judgement Day had begun—that’s the name of the war, by the way.”
You rub your temple, ducking your face down into your lap. Does this kid not realize that you’re the one who made that name? Hell, does he not realize you’re the one that was involved in a lot of these developments? You think to yourself while the boy continues rambling that this should be obvious.
“Ever since Operation Judgement Day, the MFSA has been making extreme gains in Iraq to the point that the Iraqi government has all but collapsed, leaving them to fill the vacuum. Currently, our coalition consists of NATO and Saudi Arabia, and now we’re-”
You raise your hand to stop him again.
“Just…just tell me who’s all attending.”
“R-Right.”
Bobby flips through the binders. A drop of sweat trickles down his forehead.
“Aside from the heads of state from Turkey and Saudi Arabia, both of whom are already allied with us in this conflict, six other nation’s representatives will be attending. The list is as follows: Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Syria, Kuwait and Iran.”
You play as Argia Candente, a Paladin of Ansàrra cursed with silver hair since birth, on her way to deliver correction where needed. And there’s a lot of correction needed…
# # # # # #
Welcome to the <span class="mu-s">sixth thread</span> of Argia Candente's astounding adventures, our scatterbrained, silver-haired (busty, as the players decided) Holy Knight-trainee with a penchant for daydreaming and plagued by self-doubt, on a quest to achieve her ordaining and save her family from poverty and starvation.
You faced many threats and troubles (Threads 1-4) and then you explored an abandoned Temple looking for a corrupted wizard (Thread 5) to deliver to his Throneland masters. But then you suffered betrayal, from the person you trusted the most, the person who trusted you with her own deepest secret, disregarding your friends’ need to know. The only person you believed could understand you betrayed you… and the worst thing is that Willow did so to save your soul. Or so she believes.
Over the course of the latest thread you managed to rebuild together the relationship with your remaining companions — <span class="mu-s">Rubida dell’Obertengo</span> and <span class="mu-s">Soralisa da Zaribari</span>. While your Magus ally (and a friend, how much a Heathen can be called a friend) <span class="mu-s">Sandora Mirari</span> had to leave on urgent business after the recent scuffle with the Inquisitor set on your heels freed her.
And speaking of inquisition, you are currently under direct (very direct) scrutiny by <span class="mu-s">Rosandra Brusera da Roccafonda</span>, who has been sent by the highest hierarchies of the Holy Land. You knew your silver hair signified you were cursed, but you did not expect this trouble to reach you right now… At least you managed to convince Rosandra not to smite you immediately.
What’s worse, you failed the previous mission, the one given to you by <span class="mu-s">Carnaval</span>, the Angel of Ansàrra. And your Master, <span class="mu-s">Ibardo Delebasse</span>, has been imprisoned on charges of misbehaviour. You suspect that his habit of entertaining himself with the daughters and wives of the nobility finally caught up to him, but you are certain there’s more to this.
Now you and your friends continue your quest, looking for <span class="mu-s">Willow Stark</span>, the otherworlder who betrayed you… apparently to save your soul. There’s indeed much correction to be delivered!
so heres this story about that guy on discord named itzbyc2 hes a minecraft admin that used to date me but then he lied about being gay and broke up with me not because he lied about being gay but he also tricked me by faking his age that was 15 but his true age is 14 and im 16 which is a two year age gap so this made me upset and i obviously didnt forgave him but then today he came back to haunt me so we ran into each other on CNMC minecraft server just to tell me hes sorry but reason why i still never accepted it is because hes been doing messed up stuff after that thing we had like he told people behind my back that i was weird and he tried to sabatoge my best friend's minecraft server by using his alts and telling people to not join and thats why i never forgave him for any of that he never even said hes sorry for hurting my best friend i tried to report him but there were no other options but to say spam so now hes threatening me saying "your next" and 4 chan is pretty much the only place i could run to so heres that jerk's picture and help me from the harassment
Humanity has spread out into a massive sprawling empire throughout the galaxy. The edges of the sprawl remain poorly guarded and sparsely settled after all humanity throughout a thousand stars has always been alone save for their own creations which once waged war against them. This is no longer true now an unknown force has begun to attack sector 63 and other sectors and it is up to poorly supplied and desperate sailors to hold them back.
You are the Admiral of the naval fleet of sector 63 one of nearly a 100 rimward sectors on the edge of settled human space. The war for that is what this truly is now apparently has seen you as the last of the remaining Rimward commands in the area. The loss of the other commands has seen a significant number of refugees swarm your bastion in the form of the sector command of Cartha, the increased strain on the industrial world's food supply has seen you plan and launch a large scale raid on the recently lost world of New Garcia.
The raid has gone fantastic so far and as the last of the food is being stuffed into the few remaining empty places aboard one of the light cruisers, an enemy counterattack makes itself known. The corvettes left on a picket around one of the jump points just make it clear as an enemy battleship exits the swirling green vortex and then another and another. This continues on for several minutes as a total of 10 enemy battleships, 3 battlecruisers, 22 heavy cruisers,8 light cruisers and to your surprise 8 seemingly rare bird corvettes.
The enemy has yet to shake out into a proper formation but should do so very quickly, you have at your disposal. The Essex, 2 light cruisers, 7 destroyers and 9 corvettes 5 old 6 modern, a much smaller force than the enemies and you will need to hold on long enough for the army division to remount their transports and then fight your way to the jump point
>Be defensive around the planet >take the fight to the enemy
sorry about no new thread link in the last one I literally bumped it off myself
You are the Ishtari, brave warriors and passionate lovers. Your old lands became unlivable after a famine so you took your people north, to a land that for a long time was the domain of monsters. In there, you hope to find a new home for your clan, and perhaps build a kingdom one day.
King Protolau had three daughters, who all became adventurers. Upon learning of his death, they came back. The people discovered that one became a necromancer, another a paladin, and the youngest a gunslinger.
The council gets together to deliberate what to do.
Choose one of the daughters to be, name her, and determine what the council decided for you:
> You shall be crowned the new queen of Protoland > You shall receive an out of the way County to rule and not annoy the new queen > You shall be stripped of rank and forced to take the vows. However, you rebel, gather some misfits and go start your own thing in the Misty Forest
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">You find yourself sailing upon a sea of molten red; an odor strong and metallic that burns your nose and lungs, a brightness that blinds the eye and hurts the mind. It sears brands upon your face and chains upon your body; a steel-gray shell, an iron ship, is all that stands between you and the burning lake. You have not come here by choice, but there is also no way back; you must continue forth, and see the river clear, yet the journey is so long, and the path there so unclear.</span></span>
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">Worst of all, you do not pass here alone.</span></span>
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">These mighty colossi, formless and bare, they wade through the fires, they march there upon you, like moving mountains of brick and stone. Their faces, if they be faces, remain hidden from your gaze; their eyes, if they be eyes, remain far beyond your sight. They hold hammers upon their arms, and raise them. They seek to sink you? Has death grasped your soul at last? You feel an impact that shakes the teeth, so hard your vision blurs. Their hammers had fallen upon your ship, side by side in perfect symmetry. Your sight dims again, and you feel another shake. Their soundless blows rain upon your vessel, deforming it, caving it ever more so; what had brought you to these fates? Yet they hammering holds no malice. Their touch, though rough, bears no malice; their hands, though heavy, seek to destroy not, but to shape it to greater heights, like a smith upon his forge.. They wish to forge it, then? To mold your raft into a vessel, a galleon standing proud? You know not, care not, think not of such grand designs! You know only of your fate, your current fate, your roiling fate. You grasp your arms around the mast, hoping you will not be thrown off and burnt into an withered ember! For now, you must hold, hold to your life, hold on tightly!</span></span>
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">You hold on tightly.</span></span>
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">You hold on tightly..</span></span>
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">You hold on tightly...</span></span>
The demon lord has been enslaving your people to dig in the obsidian mines for who knows how long. Something about gaining one soul for all eternity, and then multiplying it somehow. One day you discovered quite by accident that the laws of hell allow your people to have a representative. You voiced to the demon that was whipping you that you wished to become your people's representative. He just laughed and continued whipping you. However, a few days later, a dark wagon showed up in the mines. Those usually came full of fresh prisoners, who would be ravaged and then put to work. It came empty. The dark knights within singled you out and brought you into the wagon. You were took to a torture chamber.
That night, your eyes were plucked out.
You were taught to read with your hands. Ancient clay tablets. Thousands upon thousands of them. You were whipped every time you recited them wrong.
Somehow, you stopped aging. Took centuries of torture, but eventually you memorize all of Hell's Laws and Customs.
Then you were taken to the presence of the Demon Lord.
"Speak now. What is it that your people crave?"
"We crave to be Free!"
Now was the turn of the demon lord to laugh. It started as a minor chuckle. And then it became a booming laughter. And then all the demons started laughing as well.
"Very well. You owe me two souls for everyone I am freeing. The souls cannot be taken, they must be willing sacrifices. I will simply employ them in the same fashion as I've employed your people. If you cannot repay within a thousand years, I will reclaim all your people as slaves again, and also the entire plane in which I will release you. You will have to serve me for ten thousand years without complaint before you can strike a new bargain."
All his terms were in accordance to Hell's Laws and Customs. You couldn't help but agree.
He formed an island in the middle of the ocean in one of the myriad human planes. He then opened a chasm portal all the way from Hell into that island, somehow.
"Go forth and conquer this world for yourselves. Spread and remember to sacrifice the required amount. Once you pay your debt, we'll trade sacrifices for magical boons."
According to Hell's Law, a Representative must know all of Hell's Law. Merely by knowing it, he becomes Immortal. You don't understand how it works, but this is the sort of magical forbidden knowledge that changes your very being. There can be only one Representative, however. Being immortal doesn't mean you can't be destroyed. If you are destroyed, someone else Could take your place, but the spot could also be vacant for many millennia.
You have around Two Million People, unskilled, starving, who have known nothing all their lives but toiling in the obsidian mines. The island is huge, but the grimm reality sets in. Many will starve to death before you can figure out a way to eke out a living. You owe the Demon Lord Two Million Souls, give or take.
Scribbling noises furiously sound off across the worn pages of his journal, the scratch of pen against paper echoing in the dimly lit room. His gaze rarely left the crumpled photographs of Wilson Fisk, aka The Kingpin, plastered haphazardly across the walls. Each image seemed to exude an aura of menace and corruption.
"The Kingpin," Frank wrote, "A cancer on this city. Feeds off its desperation, breeds more suffering. I've been chipping away at his empire, one pawn at a time. His thugs, his enforcers - they're all just steps in the way of who I really want."
He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "His organization is vast, deeply entrenched. But I've managed to infiltrate it, using some reluctantly donated tech, courtesy of a Stark Industries supply truck. I know Kingpin's routines, his hiding places, his most trusted lieutenants. It's only a matter of time now until the New York streets are a little less dirty."
Frank's jaw clenched as he recalled the countless lives ruined by The Kingpin's greed and brutality. He had seen the worst of humanity during his time in Vietnam, but Fisk's reign of terror was a whole new level of depravity.
"I'll make him pay for every innocent life he's claimed," Frank vowed, his pen stabbing into the paper with renewed ferocity. "I'll tear it all down, piece by bloody piece, until there's nothing left but a corpse and a legend of the man who brought him down."
As the last rays of sunlight faded, casting the room in an even darker hue, Frank closed his journal and rose to his feet. He knew the road ahead would be long and treacherous, but he was ready. For he was the Punisher, and punishment would be served.
>Plan an attack on a lieutenant
>Send a message and prepare to blow up one of Kingpin's hideaways
>Review the people to keep an eye out for with each mission
