Welcome to /qtg/, a place to talk about quests. Previous thread >>6243967
>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: text Italics: text Red: [ red ] text [ /red ] Blue: [ blue ] text [ /blue ] Green: [ green] text [ /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 What are common traps for Qms? >Player question What vote or decision surprised you? >Lurker question What's your spirit animal? >Miscellaneous question Any run ins with the paranormal?
The gates of Felcross are behind you now. The city where you were raised, the city of your first failures and rare achievements, the last great city on the way east. You look back, as if to say goodbye. There is nothing of worth left for you there, only your bickering family and your more successful peers.
You are a wanderer now. On your belt is a sword, on your back - a bag with tools, travelling gear, some money - whatever was left after your purchases - and rations. They won't last long, but you'll think of solving this later. Two javelins fit nicely in the quiver, slung over your shoulder close to the travelling bag.
Barely a man, not a youth, you start down one of the roads. You don't know much of the world, but you've had dreams. Dreams of power, people bowing to your might, of... freedom, to do what you want, however indulgent your desires may be. Of immortality, like in the tales of the Flower Harbringer and the Collector of Names.
They are far away, but one who doesn't begin his journey will most certainly never see its end.
You possess basic ability in the way of the sword and the javelin, having been given basic training for the militia, like any able man of the kingdom. You also know your way around the streets, courtesy of your upbringing. You can repair and take care of your weapon, and know the basics of crafting, having helped around the smithy for a time. You think you can survive on the road and subsist if need came. That's about all you are capable of.
You heard the road east leads to the frontier, the outlands. Not completely devoid of settlement, it is, nevertheless, a dangerous place - some of the monsters manage to sneak into the heartlands of the kingdom of Hien, not to speak of these wild lands, where they may have greater reign. Their distance from the heartlands means all kind of folk flock there, sometimes good in heart, but often dark. It also means greater freedom, whatever the cost. At least, that's what the caravans and travellers from that land told you when they passed through Felcross.
"Only madmen go east," your grandpa once said spitefully. "Those that don't know the worth of a family at your back or a proper home you can return to." Didn't stop one of your elder brothers from going there. Didn't stop you.
The road is calm for a few days as you pass by caravans going west. You didn't have enough money to buy your place in one, so you're going alone.
After the sun sets on the 4th day of travel, you consider making camp, like the previous days, but see a light further down the road. Approaching closer, you see a person sit by the campfire, a man, if you read their build correctly. He doesn't seem to have noticed you, tinkering with something in his hands. A tent is pitched nearby, and a spear rests by the fire. The faint scent of herbs and medicine drifts in the air. The smoke, too, of course. (1/2)
Your name is <span class="mu-s">Vincent Cruz.</span> You work at a small accounting firm somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Texas. By accounts, you are a complete and total nobody.
You've spent the last five years of your life doing the same monotonous routine day in and day out.
Wake up. Catch a bus. Suffer the indignity of underfunded public transportation for an hour. Arrive at work. Get a cup of coffee. Go to your cubical. Work on financial and tax paperwork for eight hours. Go home. Watch TV. Get a restless six hours of sleep.
30 GOTO 10.
That's the way it's been up to this point. The job pays well enough and the other options weren't much better.
Today begins as much as any other day. You step off the rolling hunk of steel which you could call a bus and into the looming shadow of your workplace, a grey steel and glass monolith that holds nothing but human misery inside. Just how you like it. Ha.
Your body and mind prepare to go on autopilot to get through your routine. Your legs carry you forward automatically and your face is set into the daily mask of impassivity.
You're stopped by the receptionist before you can even step foot into your office.
"Mr. Cruz." The chipper receptionist offers her usual plastic smile. "Mr. Cantwell would like to speak to you." Oh. <span class="mu-i">Great.</span> Your manager wants to talk to you? You can already imagine the dragged out conversation he's going to put you through.
You slump your shoulders. "Okay. Thank you." Your body swerves down the hallway opposite of where your office is. It doesn't take long to find yourself in front of his office door. Lucky bastard actually gets an office all to himself. You knock on the door. No answer. You check the doorknob and it's...<span class="mu-b">unlocked?</span> Huh. You open the door to reveal a room completely shrouded in darkness. You can't see a damn thing in here.
You have half the mind to leave right now... but you might as well see this little jape all the way through. Why not? You step inside and the last thing you remember is <span class="mu-r">two metal prongs being jabbed into your back</span> and the <span class="mu-r">accompanying surge of electricity flooding through your entire body.</span>
You wake up after God knows how long. You can't see anything and, as you try to get up, you realize your arms and legs are tied to something. There's a few whispers and footsteps then the bag gets removed from your head. It's still too dark to make out much of your surroundings, but you can make out what's immediately in front of you.
There's a man sitting on the other side of the stainless steel table that you're forcefully sat at. He's an older gentleman wearing a simple white labcoat with a turtleneck sweater underneath, late 50s if you had to guess. He adjusts the desk lamp (the only source of light in this room) to get a better look at you.
"I apologize for the, erm, troublesome circumstances that surround our little introduction." He lets out a forced chuckle. "<span class="mu-b">To keep it brief, you've been promoted!</span>"
Reawaken, O great one, thy time has come at last once more. Long left scorned and forgotten, you have not forgotten the heroes who laid low both you, your fortresses, and your dominion. Now you shall rise from the ashes, reclaim your power and reign supreme once again. Let your enemies tremble at the mere mention of your name, for you are the true ruler of this land and all lands beyond it.
Alas! For it has been too long; while the darkness has kept you safe like a cloak, it has also made you forget. Time and the dark have gnawed at you for too long. For while your trick with placing your spirit within a container might have prevented your demise, it also eroded and disembodied you.
A shrivelled shadow you thus became, ignorant of yourself. Ignorant of form, ignorant of name, what scarce memories you did have of your past mostly addressed you as 'lord' or 'master'. None dared speak it, not before your personage at the very least.
Yet you were great and powerful once, the terror of a hundred kings. Sacker of a thousand cities, master of untold legions and hordes of both disciplined blackguards and savage barbarians. Others saw you as a god incarnate, or at the very least the high priest of a very cruel and demanding god, who was to be appeased with tributes of gold, silver and manpower. Yes, lesser princes, khans and chieftains willingly kowtowed and fought over your ever-fickle favour.
But all of that is gone now, scattered to the wind; your empire fell with you. No servant could ever keep it together. As you lay dying, you made your last desperate gambit. You transferred your soul out of your dying body and into an object.
Oh, it was a brilliant plan, an exit for just such a scenario. But you hadn't foreseen the consequences. It was long, too long, far too long for you to be able to do anything; you withered and diminished. Seething and crying until your spirit lost the ability to form a coherent face. Was this it? Would you spend an eternity in silent suffering? Forgotten and tormented by a world that had moved on from your greatness?
Perhaps not so, for as you lay in your diminished state, you watched from one of the gemstones, which were like windows, set within the object which you had chosen. Choose an option. Jewellery >A ring >A necklace >A bracelet Weapons >A mace >A sword >An axe Miscellaneous >A grimoire >A chalice >A staff
Welcome to <span class="mu-i">Knights of Nothing</span>. For those of you who were part of “The Testament of Tatamu” quest a few years ago, this takes place in the same post-apocalyptic universe, albeit closer to the beginning of the timeline. The setting errs closer towards hard(er) science fiction.
For those who don’t know me, I’m Kaz, and I’ve been a QM since the last few years back when quests were still on /tg/ before we made the jump. My last active quest was “Star Wars – Interregnum”. For those familiar with me, it’s been a long time. Sorry for disappearing without any warning. Long and short of it was a mixture of burnout, writer’s block, and IRL/day job getting in the way of things.
In any event, I’m back in a limited capacity. I’m back in trade school and doing irregular contract work, which leaves a creative-sized hole in my chest. So I’m writing once more, with the goal of trying to do 1-2 updates per day. For those waiting for <span class="mu-i">Interregnum</span>, it’s coming soon(TM). My block was really starting to show towards the end of the last thread, and I need to square the circular peg on either fixing it or wiping part of the slate clean.
The mechanics of this quest draw heavily from the Fantasy Flight Games <span class="mu-i">Genesys</span> narrative dice system, albeit modified and changed for questing format, which is the same system that <span class="mu-i">Interregnum</span> uses.
Now, without further ado…
==============
<span class="mu-i">The world stopped, then began anew.</span>
>>Location: Unknown >>Date: Unknown
The burden of consciousness is abruptly forced upon you – sudden and without any warning.
Your first breath is a wet, choking sputter that catches in your throat. Something thick and viscous coats the inside of your esophagus, nearly strangling you from the inside. Each attempt at inhaling or expelling only makes it worse, every aborted retch an aborted reminder that your body has seemingly turned against you.
Panic surges before rational thought can catch up. Adrenaline sears away the last remnants of a dreamless sleep, burning away a mental fog clouding your mind until only the rawest survival instinct remains, and a painful hyper-awareness of your immediate surroundings.
And then you feel them – cold, conforming walls pressing against your body, smooth and pliant, firm and unyielding as they conform to your panicked thrashing. Your hands slap against a curved surface only mere inches away from your face. The realization shoots through you like ice in your veins.
Welcome boys and girls, to the third part of Rey's newly busy life. Your new home is quite the place indeed, not exactly welcoming now that you've started to rub your nose into people's business... I do apologize for not being able to post last month; my health wasn't doing so well.
You are Rey Vesperus, half-elven daughter to a Cleric of the Path and a lady ranger, apprentice to your mother's trade, and newly adoptive mother? Caretaker? To a strange slimy lifeform. You've recently survived an attack on your home by a wave of undead dogs and one peculiar humanoid entity without being able to learn anything substantial... So you've decided to elucidate the case of Olin Aurora, a ten-year-old boy who died in mysterious circumstances and the son of your first friend, Augustine Aurora.
You've learned something quite frightening from the city Bishop, and your search for answers led you into the Mamono village condition, where you've witnessed firsthand the appalling conditions over there; it's one bad day away from a pandemic.
You, <span class="mu-s">the First Princess of the Flower Kingdom</span>, have been unceremoniously stripped of all your jewels and finery before being dumped buck naked into the <span class="mu-s">Hollow Labyrinth</span>. You expected many things when the <span class="mu-s">Boar Empire</span> invaded: losing your head, being forcibly wed to the son of their emperor, or even getting passed around between their lowborn soldiers like a cheap prostitute in the worst case. Being forced into a naked dive of the Hollow Labyrinth - the lucrative yet dangerous dungeon that sits beneath <span class="mu-s">Rose City</span> - to earn your "freedom" was not on the list.
The scrying orb recording the whole affair for the sick and twisted entertainment of <span class="mu-s">Emperor Buta</span> and his five demon generals was to be expected. The Boar Empire has a habit of tormenting the royals of conquered nations. Unfortunately for him, that pig Buta mistook you for an ordinary woman, the weak and vulnerable sort who would shrink up when her gowns were torn away as if hiding her shame.
There is nothing shameful about your body.
Your skin is like flawless white marble, your lips like plump red rose petals. Your eyes sapphires, your hair spun gold that falls in perfect curls, your features chiseled by the artistic hands of your personal trainer over the course of twenty five years into an immaculate monument to tomboyish athleticism. You worked <span class="mu-i">hard</span> to shape your mind and body into a treasure greater than any of the silks or jewels those brutes stripped from you, and if they thought you would shrink away <span class="mu-i">humiliated</span> by putting the fruits of your labor on display, they are fools.
No, what is humiliating is the fact that these barbarians managed to overwhelm the elite forces of the <span class="mu-s">Flower Knights</span> with nothing but human wave tactics. Not what they've done with the power that they hold over you now, but the fact that they have any power over you at all fills you with a deep sense of disgust.
"Once I've conquered this dungeon, I am going to kill you," you tell the scrying sensor and whoever is behind it. It is not a growl of anger, simply a statement of fact.
There is no exit from the Hollow Labyrinth, not until you defeat one of its Floor Bosses. Even then, you suspect that pig Buta sealed you in with one of the tools that locks dimensional space until the last bost has been slain. No doubt he wants to display your broken and mangled corpse to your people, to demoralize them even further.
Well, you will not give him the satisfaction.
<span class="mu-s">Many paths are open to you now...</span> >A set of grand, red double doors requires much force to push open. >A narrow passage winds off into the darkness >A broken portcullis allows access to a gently moving waterway >A once hidden door has fallen open, revealing a secret hallway. >A light above is a hole in the roof. You can climb to it
For generations, the Kingdom of Lindan has been under siege by an otherworldly threat. One that with naught but a wave of the hand can level entire cities. Demons from Earth plague the land and wreak havoc wherever they go. They hail from a barbarous and most unusual land and possess skills that defy all magic, science, and logic. Known as Cheat Skills, these abilities let the Strangers from Earth gain extraordinary power without any effort. As such, every one of these Strangers can bring on the end of all times should they desire. Yet, despite the insurmountable threat the Strangers possess, the Goddess’ Inquisition has sent these beasts back each time. A thankless job that has seen these heroes who exist above the law become more reviled than praised, but a job that is nonetheless required for the future existence of Lindan.
You are one of these Inquisitors. Well, kind of. You are Lorina de Lindan, third to the throne of Lindan and the Imperial Princess. Though someone would be forgiven for forgetting that fact if they were to look at you now. If it wasn’t for your oh so expensive attire, you might even be mistaken for a common forest bandit! It isn’t as though what you’re doing now, waiting to attack a carriage filled with nobility, in the middle of the night, is much different than their usual habits.
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, an inexperienced magical girl grounds herself in her new life.
- - - - -
Last we left off, the newly minted magical girl, Sugar Rush, has triumphed in her first Barrier. Assisting her sisters in defeating the monster of the storm drains. Detransforming after the fight has caused our heroine to collapse. Leaving her to rest with one of her sisters to watch over her.
While resting, an opportunity presents itself. Why not ask a few questions about the world around?
- - - - -
Questions questions… you sigh.
“You guys didn’t seem to pass out like I did. What’s with that?”
Jacky makes a teasing grin. “Well, we’re stronger for one… But nah, it’s just practice. There’s a connection between the brain and soul with emotions and stuff somewhere in between. When you transform, you get a lot closer to all of that, and when you go back, it’s like dunking your head in cold water.”
Wait. “So why not just stay in the other form all the time?”
Jacky tilts her head. “Eeeeeeh, I mean. I know some people who try, but it ain’t good for you. Being so immersed in all that makes it a lot harder to unwind, and *trust me*, unwinding is the most important of this. Being transformed all the time also goes against some strategies some girls are anal about, but that’s no biggie.”
You take a moment to consider. There seem to be some metaphysics that you don’t have enough fucks to dive into. There is also the implications of the greater magical… everything. Thinking about that part just makes you head hurt. It’s not been even a day, you’re going to take this piece by piece. Though you do wonder. “How long did it take you to adjust to all of this magical girl stuff?”
Jacky pauses, her eyes losing focus for a moment, her expression going slack with reminiscence. “Damn that’s a question…. I guess not too long for me. I didn’t know much else before it, just went with it and tried my best.” She smiles gently, in a way you haven’t seen her smile before, her gaze still in the past. “I started real young though, got helped by others a lot, the start itself wasn’t all too bad just saw it as a game…” Her focus snaps back, her usual grin returning. “But that was a while ago, at least for me, we got some reeeal old ladies hanging around, y’ know.”
Might as well ask. “How long ago did you start?”
She snorts. “Round thirteen years ago, don’t remember the date but around that.”
