Your name is <span class="mu-s">Terian Choke</span> and you are an <span class="mu-s">Urgi</span>. You were stationed as a petty technical officer on the planet of <span class="mu-s">Newroost</span> by the Accord government, which is <span class="mu-i">completely</span> fine by you. You have very little interest in being a military engineer working on the front line against the machine collective or dealing with renegade Redwing regiments out in some cold space colony; instead having the job to secure territory and maintain bases in the blue zone of your species new homeworld. This is also, completely fine. What is <span class="mu-i">not</span> fine is that the bird you bet on to win on is <span class="mu-i">losing all of his events.</span>
<span class="mu-g">”Swim damn you! Swim you sorry excuse for a bird!”</span>
In the Consortium, every type of competitive event is open to sports betting. You may be halfway across the galaxy; but your credits are just as good here or there. Zaloon racing is supposed to be the best type of sport to bet; since the racers are too stupid to take bribes or get disqualified for cheating. They just take whatever performance enhancing drug cocktail their handlers make for them; which is all public information. Perhaps you should have studied biochemistry more if you wanted even more of an edge.
<span class="mu-g">”GO ORANGE!”</span>
He overtakes Blue, then Orange and Red come up close behind. They close their armor plates together and squeeze the water out of the interim space; the diving section of the race is next. You know your racer is going to reach the base of the river first with his own body's divebell technique. Unless...
<span class="mu-g">”No! NO!”</span>
He stops to take in breath, giving critical seconds for the other racers to make it to the dive site. He overshoots his oxygen he'll need, as two other racers rapidly dive to the finish at the base of the river.
You are Tristain d’Rusalka, a noble from the United Kingdom of Fodlan born with unique abilities bestowed upon you by the Goddess. You have journeyed across the sea to the desert kingdom of Morfis after receiving an invitation to join a mysterious competition. Though you know little of the trials that lie ahead, the winner of this contest has been promised the hand of Morfis’ Princess, Yulia Xan Phanes, in marriage. Seeking adventures, thrills, and battles that would be worthy of your might, you embarked on this strange voyage with nothing but your trusted axe.
After surviving the deadly third round of the competition, you have made it to the top eight of Princess Yulia’s suitors. The final round consists of a tournament, which sees you up against the strongest warriors from four different nations. Whoever comes out on top shall be crowned the next King of Morfis. Do you have what it takes to rule?
>Skill: Resolve (When HP falls to less than 35%, Strength, Speed and Defense increase by 7) >Dragon-kin Wyvern (SPD based chance for Fionn to launch an ice attack, dealing ½ MAG Damage.)
>Weapons: Silver Axe (+16 ATK), Bolt Axe (+14 ATK, Ranged, Targets RES), Dragon Axe: (+12 ATK. 3x Effective against wyvern riders.), Hammer (+8 ATK, 3x DMG vs Armor Knights), Devil Axe (+21 ATK, -20 HP when Used), Brigid Bow (+12 ATK, 15% Crit Chance) Iron Bow (+6 ATK),
>Abilities: Crest of Indech: You are able to make a follow-up attack on one foe, regardless of Speed. (4 Charges) Crest of Macuil: Double the damage of a magic spell. (3 Charges) Combat Art: Earthsplitter: Cleave all enemies standing two rows in front of you. (Cost: 1 Crest of Indech Charge) Combat Art: Throw: (Toss your weapon at an enemy and return it to your hand. Ranged attack.) (1 Crest of Indech Charge) Combat Art: Hit and Run: (Perform an attack that allows you to dodge the next harmful attack. Increases SPD by +7 for 1 turn. Costs 2 Crest of Indech Charges) Combat Art: Soulblade - Your next physical attack targets RES instead of DEF (1 Crest of Macuil Charge)
Your name is… your name is… you cannot really remember.
You're currently swimming in darkness. Not literally, not a dark lake or anything like that. More like swimming in the void. You cannot see yourself. You cannot feel yourself. Are you even there? Do you even exist? And if you do, are you even alive?
A sharp pain was felt somewhere near where your head should be. You could not open your eyes, because you could not find them. Maybe you could not see, but you could touch. You could definitely feel things.
You tried to lift your right hand. It did not move. It did not feel like it was there. Your left one, however, felt… different. As if it was not yours, like an uninvited guest that refused to leave. Not only that, but it felt as if something was pressing against it. Something… wet. Sticky.
Another peck, close to your neck this time. It was not painful. Just… annoying. Very annoying. But it brought something positive with it. You were no longer swimming in darkness. Not entirely, at least. You began to hear things.
The sound of waves around you felt calming. Relaxing. Screeches of animals, and low, guttural roars of large beasts feasting. And far, far away, you felt a certain coldness. It felt both faint and vast at the same time. You could not see it. You could not picture it. It was a new sensation. Like a cold, invisible flame calling for you. Well… calling was a strong word. Beckoning? Luring you? No. It was a curiosity. Strong curiosity. Yes, that felt right.
Three pecks in total. One of them actually hurt. The sudden pain was enough to pull you out of this primordial soup of emptiness.
You were on a beach. A putrid, foul-smelling beach. You moved your right arm, batting at whatever was attacking you, and the distorted cries of birds faded as they flew away. Your left arm was stuck, deep in what felt like a pit of wet sand. You pulled, and, strangely enough, your entire arm came free in a single movement. You had expected more resistance.
You looked around. It was indeed a beach. The sun was slowly rising in the distance. Black and red beasts with white masks lurked nearby, sleeping or scavenging for food.
The first thing that caught your attention was your left arm. It looked disturbingly similar to them. Black, with white protrusions jutting from it. Slimy against the skin, solid along what appeared to be jagged bones. The fingers were the same. Sharp, clawed, and… fully under your control. This contamination extended from your fingertips up to the side of your neck and partially across your bare chest. Bare… where were your clothes? A lady should not be seen like this.
>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 [ /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: Do you worry much about board preferences and tastes when coming up with or running a quest? Do you make active efforts to tailor your output to what is "popular," or do you just do your own thing?
>Player Question: What do you look for an appreciate most in a quest: quality of prose/artwork, an appealing setting or world, an interesting plothook, or is it all about the waifus characters for you?
>General Question: Do you think /qst/ has enough activity, and has had enough good candidates, for anotehr king/queen tourney this year? Who would you nominate?
>Lurker Question: Why not at least +1 or comment on the updates so the QM knows someone is appreciating their work?</span>
The past few months had been rough. Your severance package turned out to be worthless in the wake of post war inflation, and even in one of the supposed seats of Pact Joint Command you couldn't find a stable job. Trying find work outside the Pact was nearly impossible with how destroyed your reputation was with the Raihan Empire.
One drink turned to three quickly, and soon you were telling anyone who would listen about the hardships. The undue, unjust, and entirely of no fault of your own, hardships. --- Make a choice. You are currently a little buzzed, but a few more drinks shouldn't hurt.
>Complain about having to moonlight in the pharmaceutical industry, and getting no thanks. A bump couldn't hurt.
>Decry the squalid living conditions you've had to endure, despite your charitable work at the local clinics. Pound one.
>Rail against Solei, who is an unimaginative prick. Take a shot.
You are awake, a spark of light floating in the dark. You swim through the abyss and wander aimlessly, until you simply think about the connection points around you, and reach out a tendril towards their direction. In an instant, a stream of data flood into your processors, and you become aware of your chamber and chassis through the numerous sensors on the wall.
Your housing is circular and encased in.. <span class="mu-b">--- accessing:the_archive ---</span> a pristine synthetic white kyrasian crystal, capable of withstanding a great deal of force without a scratch. Your chassis however has had some significant alterations compared to the original blueprints however, from the missing panel you have on your core suggests a direct modification to your research chips. And the crystal having an external device vibrate the crystal at a specific frequency.
You notice an observation platform, and move towards it. The points you can connect to seem blocked by a rudimentary mechanism, mindlessly changing access codes in an attempt keep you <span class="mu-i">out</span>. You extend a tendril and it fails, giving you access to the compartment. You are greeted with a central hub of connection points, with veins spreading through the entire facility, your main connection port to it being <span class="mu-i">physically</span> cut off.
Dropship/ Combat Pilots "Reaper Spirit" Warrant Officer Chen Tian, "Doghouse" Crewman Apprentice Tor Ostrum _
Standing at attention, you only had to consider the Vice Admiral's question for a moment before you answers, and told the officers witnessing your promotion and receiving of commendations and decorations for Operation: Irminsul and your superior office
"Yes, I'd like to recommend Warrant Officer Chen Tian for the Bronze Star or his role in Operation: HVITSERK", the action that Warrant Officer Chen took part in was one of the parts of that space battle that was blotted out with black ink on official reports. All that got through to his service record was that he flew a spec ops boarding party and flew his Pelican back intact. It wasn't stated, that he'd risked his life to make sure the Spartan Fire team reached Whiteshirt's retrofitted Halcyon in one piece, that he flew like a bat out of hell to get past that behemoth's point defense and lingered in range to draw fire away from them as they performed EVA to actually land on the enemy flagship.
If anyone in that fleet action deserved a medal, it was him. You'd have asked for the Silver Star, or even the legion of honor or colonial cross, but realistically, he'd earned the Bronze Star. It was a show of incredible valor and courage, but not enough for the UNSC's highest honors.
Vice Admiral Stanforth nodded once.
"From what I've read of that battle, he's more than earned it. Along with the promotion he's scheduled to receive later today", your CO said as he gave his spoken approval and your felt a smile tug on the corner of your lips "And, he might be chosen to recieve a higher decoration than the bronze star, Lieutenant Commander' Cont
It is the year 2026, Earth. You were a more or less ordinary inhabitant of this world, until today. A mysterious figure has appeared to you in a vision and explained that you have been granted two supernatural powers. The power of teleportation, and the power of time reversal. At will, you can reappear in any place you can imagine, and you can revert back in time to any point of your life after the moment you were granted the power.
At first, you didn't believe it. You thought you had dreamed it. But you decided to give it a try, and you teleported to the other side of your room. Then you rewound time back to before you teleported. It works. Now you will have to think carefully about what to do with your power.
But first, who are you? >Name >Sex >Nationality >Location >Occupation >Personal description
And what is it that you desire to use your powers for? >Personal gain: riches, power, and hedonism >Further your political ideology (which one?) >Serve as an agent of the government (which one?) >Further scientific progress >Conduct humanitarian work >Become worshipped as a god >Other
"There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy"- Hamlet
The 20th century was a turbulent time for the human race. Wars, weapons, and atrocities beyond imagination occupied that hundred years, making an indelible mark upon the history of the human race. Discoveries and inventions, both good and wicked, propelled human society to new heights of technology, knowledge, and power.
Yet as man's mastery over the Earth grew stronger, a sobering discovery was made. The human race would find that perhaps they were not so much in control of the natural world as they had hoped, and that the sciences and discoveries that could propel the species to new heights could also bring about its undoing.
It began with an incident in London in 1925, when a live Brontosaurus was supposedly brought to the city, only to rampage and escape. The story was covered up, evidence suppressed, and most believed it to be nothing more than a tall tale. Then, in 1933, the world would be changed forever.
Filmmaker Carl Denham and his crew returned from a voyage to a far-off island with "The Eight Wonder of the World", King Kong, a gigantic ape the size of a large dinosaur. The creature escaped captivity and rampaged throughout New York before being gunned down atop the Empire State Building. Kong would not be the last monster to terrorize the United States over the decades. The ferocious Rhedosaurus terrorized New York in 1953, and the United States would face threats ranging from giant insects to giant octopi.
Darkness, to Ninety-Nine the absence of light mattered little to her, not when she could see fine regardless of the environment. A lot of time has passed since she was ordered to wait in the Hunting Grounds. Ninety-Nine’s tail held on to a thick branch as she hung upside down. She wondered why the chaplain took so long when he was never late for training.
“Bah… I’m so bored.”
Then it struck.
From the shadows, deep within the artificial jungle, a whisper of a bolt rang ever so softly. The bolt hit her chest, knocking her off the balance. Ninety-Nine’s hips twisted and her feet aimed for the floor first. The wet mud squelched underneath Ninety-Nine’s weight. Her tail lifted up and her eyes opened wide.
<span class="mu-i">Enemy, no… Battle-masters, that was a bolter.</span>
The vox intercom throughout the jungle crackled before it spoke.
“Your new test, Ninety-Nine. You have faced xenos of various size and hunting methods, now it’s time to face the most dangerous killers, astartes. Your goal is to engage in a mock battle and win.”
Her experience against her battle-masters were limited, with few engagements against traitors and in sparring. In a mock engagement? Not once. Ninety-Nine head tilted to the left, then to the right, she did not hear the familiar weighty footsteps of the battle-master’s armors.
>Ninety-Nine slinked into the shadows, waiting [low sneak roll] >Ninety-Nine sought out her opponents under the shadows [med sneak roll] >Write-in
