After the success of operation Redonia the Bludonians have managed to repulse the foreign invader from their lands. After a peace treaty affirming the status quo ante bellum with some concessions being given to the Bludonians in the form of war reparations.
The Redonians now teetering on the edge of bankruptcy have moved to take the resource rich lands of lower Brunn to revitalize their economy and save the nation from collapse. You a proud member of the RAF<<Redonian Armed Forces>> have been tasked with dealing the first blow against the BRG <<Brunnish Republican Guard>> and make way for the invasion of the Low Brunnlands.
You're Birdarak, the half dire crow half giant spider chimaera.
You were flying around looking for your next prey when you sighted something that caught your eyes: a tribe of humanoid creatures.
Pondering that perhaps you could acquire your sustenance more easily if you made them look for it for you, you decided to approach the creatures and become their master!
What kind of creatures were those?
> humans > orcs > elves > lizardmen
And how do you approach them?
> kill their leaders in mortal combat > claim to be a deity and demand worship and offerings of food > offer to become the protector of their land in exchange for a tithe > capture an infant, hide and train it to be your emissary
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.
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.
Last thread, the Idol agency has been finally organized to run efficiently after a great meeting, you’re in the aftermath, preparing for the heist against the mafia. These are 2 unrelated events, but you combine them with your decisions. This is a stark reminder that you’re a man of many skills, not a person who can’t focus on the task at hand.
But you’re at an impasse. Your Bestie decided to pretend your plan isn’t your plan in the least subtle way imaginable, and was called out for it by Chio. When everyone else in the room realized that the ruse wasn’t a ruse, Amelia barged in to beg for the cookies your dear Clutz baked for you. Your sister was promptly kicked out. But the question still hangs up in the air…
“...Okay, everyone, I don’t want anyone to mention what happened to Ame. Understood? She’s going to try to stop me even if it’s true or not.” You ask Chio, Wilma, and Vortexia to be chill.
“Would she be successful at it?” Chio wonders if she can go for the neutral option.
“Don’t even think about it.” Wilma takes this very seriously.
“No one likes snitches.” Vortexia agrees.
“Not one bit.” You add.
“I-It wasn’t part of my plans, I wondered out of intellectual curiosity.” Chio changes her mind the minute you are against it.
“You’re not subtle at all…” Crossbill looks down on Mamariko.
“...Who are you to talk?” Wilma raises an eyebrow.
“C’mon, I said I was pulling your legs. You girls know my past and all. Joke didn’t land, it happens.” Crossbill won’t admit anything.
“I don’t believe you were kidding.” Vortexia can see through the politician’s bullshit.
“Sheesh, you’re turning me into a casual fan…” Crossbill doesn’t believe in the storm.
“I’ll take your heart back when you hear me singing!” Vortexia gets a little haughty. Chio appreciates the form, but she can see areas of improvement.
“We’ll see.” Crossbill goes back to bed to pretend to be ill… again.
This situation isn’t tense, but there are many unanswered questions. Do you like it when questions are unanswered? In their shoes, you wouldn’t. But how far will honesty lead you here? You gotta know what to do now.
<span class="mu-s">What do you do?</span>
>“Get your fat butt over here, Crossbill. Why are you back in bed? We have things to do.” Leave things unanswered and get out. >“Yeah, the heist is real. We wanna prank the local mafia out. It’s important.” You’re going to clean up the streets by pissing off the criminals. What could go wrong? >“Actually, I feel sick too…” Get in bed as well. You feel a fever… A *lazy* fever. >Write In.
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 759. 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.
Welcome boys and girls to the beginning of a new fantasy quest, one where investigations will be even more important to solving your problem than violence and power. Ultimately the methods will be up to you and I do apologize in advance if the opening feels a bit stiff because we've got a big handful of character customization to go through...
For general communication outside the thread, see this twitter https://x.com/TaleOfMonsters I'll try my best to update once every two days at a minimum until I unrust, then once a day will be a good pace.
"I have helped you remember who we are, the great people of ancient Ilythiir, and of the darthiir who have betrayed us," you begin with a measured cadence, sitting yourself at the fountain's edge to address the High Sorcerer's apprentices as the tyrant sun rises above the garden in the High Sorcerer's spire. The azure sky stretching out infinitely in all directions, setting the scene for your next lesson. "But there are many different people in this world, who are not like us, that you will meet in Everlund. I will tell you of them, so that you will be ready when you meet them."
Mytyl, the red-haired girl, looks up to you with her lips parted, already poised to ask a question. With a gesture, you shush her, delaying her query until your lesson has begun proper. "In this sunlit world, the most common people are the rivvin, or 'humans.' You have surely seen their many colors and heard their languages by now. They are clumsy, weak, and dull, hardly worth our time. Pity them, for their lives are so short that few even live a hundred years, if that." The albino boy, Tyltyl, recoils in silent horror as you mention that the human lifespan seldom exceeds even a century. "But the best of humans do have their uses, and can sometimes see the truth of our greatness. Those are the ones worth knowing," you concede as an afterthought.
"When an Ilythiiri or a darthiiri mates with rivvin, a tu'rilthiir is born. They are very lucky - the blood of Ilythiir saves them, from the bad blood of their weaker parent. Luaue is tu'rilthiir," your explain. Mytyl interjects, raising her hand and speaking at you before you can manage to silence her again. "What about our teacher? Is he also tu-lilithiir?" She inquires, her scarlet eyes ablaze with curiosity. You pinch the bridge of your nose, recalling the mere mention of the half-breed High Sorcerer sufficient to make your day worse. "Yes," you sigh, "but he has two bad halves."
Given the recent infestation of civilization threads, I've decided to contribute to the problem- with a twist! Rather than starting a fledgling civilization, you'll be taking the reigns of one in a post apocalypse that will be elaborated on later. Choose a race! >Undead (Unable to naturally reproduce; and comprised of many species, your people remember decaying knowledge of the world before. Begin with a crumbling necropolis and a senile Lich King.) >Elemental (Living magic constructs that reproduce by bringing inanimate objects to life, most commonly found around mana pools that fuel their magic. Begin with the remains of a wizard's tower and whatever tomes survived.) >Shroomling (Sentient mushrooms that reproduce through division and unconsciously spreading spores throughout the landscape, extremely short lifespans encourage rapid development and poor record keeping. Begin with a fully-functional village surrounded by forest, but no knowledge of the world before.) >Molemen (Hardy subterranean mole creatures with a weakness to light that reproduce quickly. Larger populations live in elaborate carved caverns. Reliant on nocturnal scavenging and stealing from rival burrows, knowledge and technology is scattered among the isolated groups. Begin with a mountain compound and some knowledge of the world before .)
World details will be given later dependant on player choices; all locations and races can be encountered regardless of player choice. First to three wins!
Your orphan ass is sitting in your living room, chowing on pizza and watching Netflix when suddenly your uncle, who is your adoptive guardian, bursts through the door, smearing bloody handprints across anything he touches "Holy shit" you say, watching as he takes step by agonizing step towards you, a sense of urgency in his piercing blue eyes, "you're getting blood everywhere. Auntie's going to be pissed."
"There's no time to clean up... I'm dying" he growls, going into a fit and coughing up blood all over his silver beard and gnarled hands. You notice that under his long grey trench coat there is a great gash in his clothes, with a mortal wound underneath which bleeds profusely.
"Oh... did you want me to get you a doctor... or a priest?" you offer politely.
"Listen to me... the world is being threatened by an evil force. In the past 1200 years, 12 incarnations of evil have attacked mankind. It has been 100 years since the last incarnation appeared. Do the math."
You quickly add up the numbers. "1312" you say.
"That's right, it's been 1300 years and 12 incarnations... the Thirteenth Apocalypse, the final, and most powerful of them all, is prophesied to appear. He has likely already entered our world, and is biding his time to make his presence known. Our family is from a long line of Watchers, your mother and father died to save your life. You are the last hope to save mankind."
"That sounds like the plot to an anime" you say, scratching your chin.
Your uncle glares at you for a moment, then continues. "The Thirteenth Apocalypse has one weakness, he can only be defeated by the family sword, which has been passed down from generation to generation" he says, then produces a katana from the folds of his trenchcoat, it is ornately decorated, with a rippling blade that resembles the flowing of water, refracting light into a rainbow cascade, and with a black hilt embossed with gold in the form of a dragon.
"Sweet sword... I didn't know we were Japanese"
Your uncle's stern eyes bore into you once more, silently judging you for a long while.
