Another set of tyrns passes and begins again, bringing with it a new set of challenges. The threat of lunar invasion has passed, and with it a new era of peace begins. Of course such things rarely last. Already the nations of the world dabble in tremendous powers that could alter the world. Stolen lunar technologies, tremendous machines worked powered by magic, the holy light of gods and puppets stitched together from broken spirits. The world lurches toward great change, ready or not.
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This a Multiplayer Nation Roleplay! Unfortunately we are full up on players at the moment with no openings expected. Apologies to anyone who wanted to join!
> Global Across the land all breathe a sigh of relief as the great silver fortresses of the Lunites march into the ocean, never to be seen again. Even those few who can follow them find no trace a tyrn later.
> Turbans Glorious victory at last! Though the battle rages day and night Turban ingenuity has won the day, developing horrific poisons that leave the invaders trembling and flailing while strikes against key locations of their silver fortress has sent it into retreat toward the ocean! Despite the usage of terrible weapons of magical fog the invaders have been driven back! At the height of the battle a great charge of biotitans slam into the fortress and hurl it into the sea! Glory to the Turquoise Turbans! Nothing remains of the invaders save their memory.
> Vencia The great cataloging of Taxmoss is an exciting time for the explorers of Vencia as they cross the foreign jungles on the far side of the Tarn. It is of course also a somewhat terrifying time of course, because such activities inevitably lead into the territories of the Red Wall, a fearsome skrit war thing that is decidedly less friendly than the usual Skrit, it seems quite determined to devour everything in reach in fact. A nutty new gourd is discovered in the jungles, one that curiously grows more like an onion than a normal squash, with most of the plant firmly underground. Getting them pulled free is quite the hassle, fortunately normal Skrit drones are usually handy to help dig them out. When the ants get into the leftover squash left as payment they change color to a curious metallic brown, at least when not near a venk. Is this some sort of magical thing?
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
>Community theater quotes capture the passion, humor, and unique challenges of local stagecraft, focusing on shared human experience, the magic of collaboration, and the joy of live performance, with lines like "The play was a great success, but the audience was a disaster" (often attributed to Oscar Wilde) or "Love the art in yourself, not yourself in the art" (Julie Theobald) highlighting the dedication and quirks of the scene.
You love these 85IQ simps. You're the new director for the local catlic theater. Ever since you were a kid, I mean, you're still a kid because where you are, you've got to be 65 to be not a kid. But anyways, ever since you were a kid, you've participated in all the theater stuffs every season without fail. Mostly at your same local theater, but also the summer camps and your college degree, and now it's finally happened, you've been chosen to be the new director.
Who even are you? >Garry Hermano >Cunty McCuntface >Sophy Artho >Steven Johnguy >Jeff Joo
*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.”
<span class="mu-i">Howdy bros, I'm back. I wanted to continue RimQuest, but the combination of an artist shafting me, Rimworld 1.6 breaking all of my saves, life events, and depression have fucked that into the dirt. So instead here's something new.</span>
<span class="mu-s">These are the dark years of the occupation.</span> Gordon Freeman is still just a story passed between cells, squads, strangers, and couples. In this moment in time there's only you, a lone human working to resist the Combine occupation however you see fit and remain able. There will be an <span class="mu-s">Uprising</span> someday, this you're sure of, but the path there lies on the other side of lakes of blood and considerable effort on the part of unsung warriors like you.
It had felt like days since you last saw the sun back outside the outskirts of <span class="mu-s">City 11.</span> The awful stench of the sewers and cisterns which meandered under the streets of what used to be <span class="mu-s">Berlin</span> forced you to find something to plug your nose with almost immediately upon beginning your infiltration. Deep regret at leaving the accommodations, spartan as they were, of the Resistance base north of the city had massaged your mind, but failed to slow your occasionally-soggy step through the barely-lit darkness. All this had a purpose, you reminded yourself. In the newspeak of the Combine you are an Anticitizen, a <span class="mu-s">Malignant</span>, the malformed cell that starts the cancer, the one that sets the spark which will light the torch of humanity's liberation. Or, in more plain terms, the crazy fucker that volunteers to go back into the Cities in order to bring contraband in, people out, and start up new resistance cells along the way. If there were some omniscient statistician in the sky, he could have given you odds of survival that would have seen you sit your ass back down in Finow when they called for somebody to replace Parks's sector after his presumed loss, but all the same, it needed to get done. The whole goddamned species was at stake, with a biological time limit that edged closer to expiration every year and a planet slowly being strangled of its life. If this generation didn't stop them, there would be no other. Never in human history had there been as existential and desperate a struggle as the one you now trudged through obscure German shit-tunnels to wage.
It had only been half a day since you entered the sewer system when you reached your target. A junction in the tunnels marked by a chalk marker and a lone, white coffee mug. The route into this part of the city was prepared beforehand by a two-man reconnaissance team, people with equipment and experience too valuable for you to know or to be risked with the next, most dangerous part of City infiltration. You were briefed that they left you a red bag full of necessaries to help you along on your mission from here, hidden in a storeroom near the marker.
Jail Quest: a text adventure occasionally illustrated.
A night of drinking and a failed attempt to cheat on cards had landed you the strangest job slash community service sentence you've ever had: ensuring Gongalla Gaol survives the reality storm called Singularity.
Now you travel around with your employer and a handpicked crew to survey the four Reality Anchors. Hey, beats being tarred and feathered, right?
You suddenly jolt wide awake in an unfamiliar room, with no recollection of the past few hours. It even took you a few seconds to remember you are Rosa Montagni, and another few seconds to realize the other person in the room is your crewmate, Valencio. Slowly, hazy recollections piece together a loose narrative of previous events: you've reached Viridis, the first leg of your journey to the East's Reality Anchor, when you receive news that your go-to destination slash transport, the walking city Freeport, had problems with its engine. Then you were sidetracked into a casino, where you played cards and unwittingly aided a truant Hexbourne student against a haughty twin Hexbourne students sent to retrieve him. Then you got entangled in a complex emotional... something with the casino owner, Don Bosco. Something about your mentor, Sierra (no relation to Sierra, the deity of the South anchor) and copious amounts of drinking? That must be why your memory's so hazy.
The world has another side, one with secret societies and hidden powers vying for control. But it is not merely humans, nay. For millennia, creatures which a modern man considers fables have been battling in the shadows, both within their own, and others. Only the Magical Girls can slay the demons of humanity's suffering, and clean up the supernatural messes along the way!
Following next, a magical girl begins her first training session.
- - - - -
On the last Episode, our Heroine, Magical girl SugarRush, has gotten her first introduction to magical girl society. Witnessing the dark land of the Shadow Market where she met an eccentric ‘apprentice’ E, and a non-combatant Sister of the Magical Girls, the troubled Angel. Now, she has arrived on the beach to train with her Magical Girl teammate, Jacky.
- - - - -
You shake off your troubles, compartmentalization always works, thought it feels like the more you lock away, the quicker you reach your limit. But this is important, you’re here to train with Jacky. She doesn’t seem like the sort to make it too harsh anyway.
So you nod at the short girl. Much like you, clad in bikini and flip-flops, though carrying a small purse. “Lead the way.”
Jacky widens her grin. “Attagirl!”
As you walk on the sand, you feel the gazes taking you in. You stare ahead, while Jacky waves. “I didn’t know when you were arriving, so I’ve been chatting for a while. There have increased drownings, it’s not part of our territory but it’s good to know, both for our own girls, and for the rest.”
You arrive at what might be generously called a bar, but it’s closer to a plastic shack in the middle of a beach, which just happens to have some booze on sale. A surfer dude is manning the counter, eagerly greeting your companion. “Welcome back babe! This the friend you mentioned?” He bears a grin as he scans you, one that falters when his eyes eventually reach your face. You have been told in the past that you have a resting bitch face, though you think you’re just honest with your emotions. “Y’ alright, dudette?” His question seems to carry a hint of genuine worry, but before you can answer, and probably tell him to fuck off, Jacky is already smoothing the situation. “She had a real rough few days. That’s why she’s here, the sun’s out, the water’s great, and some drinks will make that even better.”
The explanation calms him, grin returning and head bobbing with nods. “Yeah, the waves ‘ve been great.” He turns, opening a cooler and taking out four bottles, two of some tripe named cocktail drink, and two of watermelon vodka. “Can I count on you for the Luau?”
Jacky seems almost too smug. “Oh I wouldn't miss it.” She takes the bottles and turns, doing a slight flourish with her hips.
Ilvermorny Quest returns after IRL issues! More cute Witches with guns, a destiny, and violence in abundance!
OOC: I have been having health issues as well as family health ones. I am sorry. This is not dead, and during the time I felt okay, I ended up with a mega update. Will try to get back to 2-3 smaller updates a week depending on player count.
I am doing a rentry for the opening recap, so I don't need two separate posts for it.
To HeadQM? The epilogue was very nice if yu are reading this. To Kektus, I need to see if a new thread is up for your game since I haven't been here in a couple of weeks; keep up the good work! Thank anyone still checking this out. And to the rest? Feel free to vote some of these up. Getting to green for thread one made my night, lol.
Welcome back to Our Brave Boys, a quest that is more about worldbuilding (or loredumping) but also a somewhat light RP setting. You are all young men of 20 years of age and are part of the Nation's Apprenticeship Required for Male Youths, otherwise known as ARMY. The Nation is one of many countries of the Empire, but after decades of suppressing Republican Revolutions, the Nation emerged as the leading faction championing the Monarchy, placing the late Princess of your Nation on the throne as Eternal Empress.
The quest essentially runs as a world event where you are all common soldiers who have little control over the progression of the war, but are nonetheless free to write bits of your characters' thoughts and even subtle actions to bring life to your characters.
The Nation has a mandatory conscription policy for all young men, who must serve for 5 years after conscription at 20 years of age. Nearly a year and a half has passed since the quest started, although new boys are welcome. You might want to skim through the archive to understand the lore.
<span class="mu-s">The Story Thus Far</span> You are the junior brothers of Lexion XXI, 41st Artillery Cohort, Battery Green, Section 1. Any additional entries will overflow to Section 2 of Battery Green.
Legion XXI spent several seasons training and laboring in Japmi until the Southern Principality reported instability due to Revolutionary riots, prompting the Sovereign Marshal to order Legion XXI to be stationed across the bay from the Southern Principality. While Legion XXI was on standby, the Grand Prince of the South escaped a revolutionary coup, prompting General Reigen Mugen to push forth and establish a foothold before the revolutionaries dig in.
