The streets of Gemini are surprisingly quiet. The riots having been dispersed by force, grown tired on their own, or have been arrested. The destruction left in the wake of the angry crowds simmers in the streets on the news stations as overturned vehicles smolder and dying embers flicker from the shattered windows of shops and restaurants. The holoscreen flickers from station to station, abruptly cutting off the news feed as it flips back and forth. Lee watches with annoyance as the taidarens slap at each other and tangle themselves in a vicious knot, rolling across the room as they fight for the remote, bashing it against each other as the holoscreen flickers in response. Lee's attention is elsewhere, with one finger in his ear as he struggles to listen to an earphone held close.
“Yes, yes it's me.” he says as he rolls his eyes. “What? No- No, that doesn't even make sense! Yes I know it's been a long time I- Well I tried to call but between illegal prisons and the Expanse I haven't had much access to a q-comm.” He moves over to the taidarens as they roll across the floor, gripping one of them by the scruff of the neck. “Yes, I know, great. No I'm actually quite busy here... I'm, uh, negotiating a resource dispute in a taidaren clan right now, actually. Yes, big political stuff.” Lee says, almost yelling over the squeaking of the triplets as Lee pulls apart the tangled knot of slapping and thrashing creatures and tosses the remote onto the couch where a tendril leaps out from the cushions to pluck the remote from the air and the holoscreen flickers to some Huronese fishing documentary.
“Well for the most part I'm waiting for the Union response to the Expansion issue but otherwise- What? No I don't know him. Yes I've met Killinger, vote for someone else. What? No that's not an endorsement for Richardson, he's a fruitcake.” Lee's eyes grow wide with shock. “You're what? Yes I saw the funeral, it was very gaudy, no gaudy, not godly, gaudy... no, nevermind, it was really nice. Yes, I just watched it... no... no, I can't say. Look, I need to go now. There's someone on the other line, yes. No, mom, mom I need to go now. I promise I'll call you back soon, okay? Okay, you too.” Lee flicks the phone off and drops it on its charging station and lets out a long sigh. He glances over to a speaker looking at him silently.
“What. I'm feeling judgment, what is it?”
“The Lee should respect your mother. You must make contact more often.” The speaker chirps. Lee slaps his forehead as the drone skitters away.
Welcome back to Hive Queen Quest!
>Various pasta http://pastebin.com/u/QuestDrone
>Discussion page http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Quest_talk:Hive_Queen_Quest
>Read the locked memories of that thinker.
>Board a scav vessel for their FTL.
>Send a diplomacy team to earth.
>Take Reprive (I think that is the system that our mother made her last stand and it only has mining corvetts, it would be a great test for our raiding fleet.)
This will be a group adventure using pathfinder mechanics. It will be challenging with the possibility of death at every roll. It will mostly revolve around combat with little fluff.
Previously on Reckoning Quest...
We finish up at the lake, figure out flow, finally get some answers, and get through the bulk of our training.
Character Sheet: https://pastebin.com/XBPKbHme
“Good work lad, looks like yar persevearance finally paid off. I already know what ya did, but just run me through it for comprehension’s sake.”
You pull hard, uprooting the zweihander from the gouge in the earth you just made. “Well, I couldn’t really feel my own flow before, and initially I started by trying to conceptualise moving my flow to my arms when I was swinging. When I got the hang of that and started to feel my own flow, I built it up in the muscles I was going to use before I took my swing instead of during, and I guess I ended up underestimating my strength…”
Moest nods, satisfied with your explanation. “Sounds about right lad. Congratulations, looks like ya finally figured out how to use surge. Surge’s a very important discovery, and it’s probably to most readily applicable flow technique for combat.”
Now that you’ve taken a bit of time out, you realise how exhausted you actually are, you’re honestly ready to drop at any moment. The old man notices your fatigue, gesturing to the shack. “Go and get some rest lad, ya earnt it. Be ready to work hard tomorrow, it’s our last day of training and I need to make sure yar all fully prepared.”
Knocking out’s a very enticing idea at the moment, and you follow Moest’s advice, struggling up the stairs to the shack. You’re the first one back, Theo and Sam nowhere to be seen, probably still training hard. You fix yourself a bowl of stew, recounting the day’s breakthroughs. Today’s been very productive, and you’ve figured out to use surge, and also used flow sense voluntarily for the first time. It’s only been two days and you’ve already got a solid arsenal of flow techniques under your belt, pretty good progress considering the fact that you hadn’t even heard of flow until you met Moest. Finished, you set the bowl aside and lie down on the bed, falling asleep practically as soon as you close your eyes.
“Get yar arses up, eat yar breakfast and start moving lads! Can’t afford to be fookin’ around all day, chop chop!”
[You’ve rested up, essence is now 4/5]
All three of your rise groggily, snapped out of your blissful sleeps by the old man’s yelling. Your surprised to see Theo counted among you, since he’s usually up so early. Must’ve been training until pretty late last night to sleep in this much.
Moest and Bole come over to each of you with waterskins and a massive plate of breakfast each. Moest pulls out a piece of parchment, a simple map of the whole Twin Rivers area detailed on it, debriefing you all as you eat. “So whilst ya been training, I been keeping an eye out for the possessed.” He points to a symbol on the map, a better part of a day’s walk south east of the shack. “It licks its wounds in its den, in a hollow trunk of a massive tree. If ya look up through the canopy ya won’t be able to miss it, towers above all the others.”
He rolls up the parchment and tucks it into his pocket, walking out the door with Bole in tow. “Finish up, grab yar shit and meet me in the yard. Don’t dawdle.”
Theo pipes up as you eat. “How goes your training guys? Magic’s been pretty difficult, but I finally feel like I’m starting to get the hang of it. I imagine flow is quite similar.”
You nod, talking in between mouthfuls. “Aye, it’s going good, I made two major breakthroughs yesterday. One of them entails me being able to feel the flow in everything around me, and I’ve also figured out how to move my own flow to parts of my body to help with my movement.”
Theo’s eyes go wide, smiling a bit. “That’s bloody sick Oscar, I never thought you’d be able to things like that. Well, I’ve read briefly about other people doing it, but I never imagined any of us would ever be capable of anything like that.” He turns to Sam who’s busy scoffing his food. “How about you man? Are you getting there as well?”
Sam takes a break from munching down to answer Theo. “Aye, but in a completely different way. All that shit Oscar’s talking about, I’ve got no clue how to do it, but I had a different type of revelation and I worked all day yesterday with Moest to figure it out. I kind of realised, as Oscar was about to cut my fucking head off, that things like pain and fear are all in my mind, and if I circulate my flow properly I can completely ignore them.”
You and Theo nod, taking in Sam’s words. Looks like he’s had a very different path in developing his flow compared to you, and you can’t wait to see his new ability in action. Once you’re finished up you grab your weapon and you waterskin, you and Sam walking down the stairs to the clearing whilst Theo circles around to the back to train in the shed.
Moest waits for you like usual, examining the intricate artwork on his sword. He sheathes it when he sees you both coming, and turns to address you. “Alright lads, ya both done well and figured out yar respective revelations. I’m not gonna lie, yar both quick as fook learners and ya come far, to be honest I was only expecting ya to figure things out at the end of today. Cause ya made fast progress, we can focus on expanding on the abilities ya picked up.”
Moest clears his throat then continues. “Sam, ya only had one revelation so far so ya only got one thing to work on, but Oscar, ya got a choice. Ya might have noticed that when ya use flow sense ya still got to focus hard, and that when ya use surge ya have to think about it before ya make yar move. With a bit a practise, we can improve on what ya already learnt. It’s gotta be one of the other though, otherwise ya ain’t gonna figure either of them out.”
[What do you want to focus on for today? This is the last day of training.]
>Try and make another breakthrough with flow sense
>Try and make another breakthrough with surge
>Try and make a breakthrough for the revelation Sam had, insouciance
>Focus on being able to use flow sense in combat
>Focus on making surge reactionary (allows the spending of essence for physical actions)
welcome all to my first quest, your mission is help this small guy on getting food and water.
all you have to do is tell him what he should do next.
ok, lets begin
the door was open for some reason, there is a box and a bowl with fruits, what should i do now boss?
>Cut your hair and grow a beard
I cant grow a beard, but i can cut my hair
You are a Yinglet, one of the “youngest” species to be discovered on the continent. Being a recently discovered species, 138 years ago, it is quite hard to fit into modern society. An interesting species given their diversity and anatomy. Unfortunately this species has a crippling gender gap between male and female Yings (about one female to 5-7 males).
What’s fantastic about this species are their coping mechanisms to deal with the rarity of females. Among enclaves/tribes of the Yings, there is always a female's den present, heavily guarded and closely watched by the matriarch and fellow patriarchs who essentially lead the enclave and its inhabitants.
Males, having longer snouts and tuftless tails, a distinct feature in females, have developed an evolutionary trait that is unlike any other documented on the continent. Thanks to the large absence of females among their species, males have depended on each other on a biological level, actually able copulate with each other, curbing sexual aggression and fighting over females.
They are also unable to produce the “th” syllable because of the layout of their front teeth (used to open oyster and clam shells as well as other shellfish). There is a great disagreement over how to imitate it, with “de” or “ze” being the most popular choices.
Ever since a hatchling you’ve had the special eye of the matriarch, this is probably obvious given the fact that you were the only hatchling to have successfully break out of your egg. The same can’t be said for your other 4 to-be brothers and sister in which it was determined they were stillborns. Besides the unfortunate fact that you are an only child, it’s quite a blessing, receiving special attentions from your mother(s).
If you don’t mind me asking, are you male or female?
yes actually wait three more day to see with OP is coming back as he has already been mia for four day. if he does not return i will take over the quest. i was really drawn in to this universe, so i read the comic, lore post, and dug around the comic creators deviant page. I want to explore more of this Universe even if OP has tired of this quest i and hopefully other have not. i have a few ideas about where to take this quest it OP does not return. enclosing yes i have a plan.
Hello, we are going to do a war roleplay today.
To start off choose your class:
You, Juamae and Tommy have been walking for too long in the desert. After your car was ambushed and the rest of your group died you've had to walk. Tommy starts telling a story when you see smoke coming from about a mile away. What do you do?
>Tell the others
>Get up to look
I am going to try and run my first civ quest. Advice, tips and general guidelines that I should follow are welcome.
First three determines race and place.
The sun rises above the horizon like an angry god, casting bright sunbeams across the world.
Through the hills of the pleasant suburb, through the streets of downtown, through the undisturbed meadows around champions valley, and even through the scum-washed alleyways of the red light district.
Yessir, it's gonna be another great day here in New Blorf City. You'd better get out there to greet it.
The sun arcs through your window, casting its harsh beams onto your sleeping face, and you awake.
Well, this is embarrassing. you seem to have forgotten who you are.
>Enter your name
I just want my Avocado, and I'll be on my way.
I have aquired this Avocado thru legal means, I cannot suppose you can have it
I used to have owned that specific Avocado, I cannot give it up now, it was stolen from me.
That is unfortunate, but unfortunately, it is mine now, and you seem not to have anything of worth to exchange.
You are General Nathan Oman, awakened from thirty years of cyrosleep. You are the last surviving member of the Timmerman Administration, the greatest, strongest government the United States has ever voted into office. You and the rest of the military leadership, under the guidance of President Timmerman, led the country through trying times. Times it would not have survived without you.
And how did the people pay you back? After the dust settled and the crisis passed? By handing President Timmerman and the military command over to an international court. They were all sentenced for crimes against humanity. They were all hanged.
Except, that is, for you and several other generals. You went into hiding. You all swore that in thirty years times you would return and exact vengeance on the world for the death of your nation.
Now you've returned, and through your actions you've gathered a dedicated team to your cause; Jake Malone, an ex-CIA agent and your closest friend. Dr. Manning, an eccentric scientist with no regard for morality. Mazzie Vandal, a former mayor of a Colorado town who has become an excellent administrative asset. Benjamin Franklin aka Helios, a nuclear powered man. And many, many more, all caught up in your machinations. Together you will fight until your last breath, either bringing back these United States, or watching the world burn for its crimes against your will.
Pt 1 http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1661977/
Pt 2 http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1673647/
Pt 3 http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1769607/
Pt 4 http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1786959/
Deep hums reverberate through the command theatre. You sit at your desk, a bottle of whiskey half finished before you. There are many others sitting in a loose circle around your desk; Jake1, Jake4 and Jake5, President Mathers, Dr. Manning, Mayor Vandal, various militia and special ops captains. Behind you all a holographic projection of the United States. Various states are blinking red, with arrows and graphs pointing out known intelligence.
The room is silent. In the background a news casts is detailing the latest reports from the Indian-Chinese conflict. The war has ground down to a halt, with thousands of infantry dying by the day. Analysts predict whoever’s special forces takes down the opponents Iron Shield first, wins.
Another new casts plays simultaneously, but on silent. Texan forces have fully engaged the Californian armed forces throughout the southwest US. Much like the India-Chinese conflict, it is a bloodbath. On top of that is the news of Coalition forces shelling Denver. Jake3 is there right now, along with Captain Belfast, bravely defending the city from what will likely turn into the definitive siege of the 21st century.
One more newcasts plays. It is mostly ignored, but its content spells dire news for the cause; the Eastern American Nations have joined forces with the EU to violently suppress rebel factions from Illinois to South Carolina. Everyday thousands of refugees and displaced fighters stream west towards Colorado and your seat of power.
“Alright,” Jake1 says, banging on a command console. The occupants of the room tear their eyes from the info streams and turn to him. “Here’s where we stand. We’ll start with the most immediate concerns, starting with Denver.” Jake1 motions at the holographic display, and the US magnifies until the screen is taken up by an overhead view of the Colorado Capital. “My third copy estimates we have the supplies and firepower to hold out indefinitely, assuming the China-India conflict continues. The NA Viceroy Chan Loa has had his entire army practically pulled out from under him to aid Beijing in India, but that doesn’t mean he’s powerless. Between California, Oregon and Washington, the coalition has enough forces to steamroll us if we trip up. The fighting will largely depend on how many planes the western nation states commit to the Viceroy’s campaign. Our intelligence is hazy, but so far we’re getting signals that Oregon and Washington are reluctant to hand over too many of their airforces.”
“It seems to me,” President Mathers says, rolling an unlit cigar betwixt his fingers. “That we should forget territory acquisition and concentrate on what we’re good at; namely big, flashy explosions. I know that’s not really how countries are built, but as ol’ Rumsfeld said, “you go to war with the army you’ve got.” And our army consists of drones and tanks.”
“Too late,” You say. It’s the first time you’ve spoken, and the room’s occupants snap their heads in your direction. You don’t meet any of their eyes, instead staring at the newscast of the eastern US fighting. “Mr President, we have begun a movement whose wheels are too large to slow. Everyday thousands of people stream into Colorado, convinced of our ability to return them to a place of power and prestige,”
“Well turn them back,” President Mathers says. He slips a zippo out of his pocket and lights the cigar with practiced ease. He takes a puff, then stares you in the eyes. “You’re not Moses General, you won’t be performing any miracles. If by some chance we do restore the United States, it will look nothing like the old one,”
“And yet we must continue trying,” You say. “I will not cede ground to foreign interests and false governments.”
“Well then we have a choice to make,” Jake1 says, motioning at the holographic display. “My fifth copy has been working hard, and he’s identified four big events that we need to confront. I’ll start with my fourth copy,”
Jake4 stands, brushing at his loose buttoned shirt. “As you all know, our main source of income is the Montana oil pipelines. Our alliance with Texas is beneficial, but it’s not nearly the revenue stream of the oil. The Viceroy knows this, and has made it his top priority to decimate the pipes from here to Canada. At the moment we’ve kept him off with anti air emplacements secured from the Montana army, but that will only last until he sends in some dedicated ground forces.”
“So then we need to defend the pipelines,” President Mathers says, motioning with his cigar. “Simple,”
“Not so,” Jake1 says. “There are other situations that need our attention,” He motions at the display, and it widens out to display the eastern United States. “You’ve all seen the violent suppression happening in the east.”
“American men and women dying at the hands of our enemies,” You murmur.
“Indeed,” Jake1 says. “According to my fifth copy, the root of the fighting is not in fact our movement, but a serious food shortage. They’re using our cause as a rallying cry, but as far as the reason normal people are taking to the streets, it’s the lack of bread. The coalition forces have in place a massive plan to supply the region with food. Obviously once this happens, the fighting will peter out,”
“What are you suggesting you spook,” President Mathers says. “That we destroy the food? That we purposely starve half the united states?”
“Yes yes,” Jake1 says, waving dismissively. “War is awful Mr. President, you don’t have to beat the pulpit. The point is that should we do this, the entire eastern united states would rush to our cause. Our forces and allies would multiply exponentially,”
“Sure,” Mathers says. “At the cost of thousands of lives due to starvation. And what happens afterwards hm? Do we have plans in place to feed millions?”
“We’ll manage should it come to that,” You say, your voice still low. “We’re simply discussing our options,”
“Which brings us to Dr. Manning,” Jake1 says, looking at the man in question. The doctor clears his throat and stands. He unwraps a throat losage and pops it in his mouth.
“I would like to bring to your attention my good friend and colleague, Samson Fritz,” The doctor taps something on a command console, and a picture of a large, stern looking man appears on the holographic display. “You are staring at the greatest mechanical mind of the 21st century. I have not been in contact with him since our college days, as he was scooped up by government powers while he was still in school,” Dr. Manning punches a button, and several blueprints circles around the hologram. “He has been designing aircraft for EU-Chinese-African coalition forces since then, though no-one has known has location, or heard from him,”
“That is,” Jake1 says. “Until yesterday,” A black and white picture pops up on the hologram. It’s a grainy image of an older-looking Samson Fritz. “This was taken outside of Chicago Illinois. Our intelligence indicates he is state-side for unknown reasons.”
“The reasons do not matter!” Dr. Manning says, waving a hand excitedly. “We must capture him immediately! He could build for us an entire air-force, better than anything out there!”
“How easily could we capture him?” You ask, looking to Jake1. The ex-CIA agent shrugs.
“Eh, it wouldn’t be easy. A dedicated team of special ops could do it. The Illinois nation state is hanging on by a thread, but they’ve got enough EU-trained intelligence forces to give us a hard time,”
“Which brings us to our hard choice,” You say, gazing at the holographic display.
“Denver, the pipelines, the food supply and the engineer,” Jake1 says. “All of them will take a dedicated special ops mission, and we only have the personal to address two,”
Pick two situations with which to commit your special forces
>Defense of Denver
>Defense of the Pipelines
>Food Stores Raid
>Samson Fritz Raid
>An: "MOMS. You want your kids to eat healthy."
>An: "KIDS. You want your mom to eat a lead sandwich so she'll quit lookin' all smug talkin' shit about your REAL dad to her new husband."
>An: "Eat breakfast Os. It has vitamins. It has cancer. It has prizes! The prize is cancer."
>Fat Tony is munching on a bag of salt n' pepper fried crickets
>He decided to give them a try after Alabaster dragged you all to his favorite all-organic foraged foods gas station
>Al: "We shall need energy and refreshment while we await the opportunity to strike."
>Nick was not down for the health food
>Even if he also hated Steve Buscemi's insistence on take-out boxes from the Indian joint
>N: "So get a granola bar."
>Al: "I am a horse. Not a white woman."
>S: "All I'm sayin' is. We know the Jews own Hollywood...but it's not nearly as important as who owns the jews."
>Steve is wanting to engage banter
>Fat Tony has like, an entire snack stash hidden inside this new car you picked up
>A 1970 Plymouth Barracuda
>With forced induction
>All leather interior
>He even picked out the red one
>You are all piled in and parked outside of Mayor Greason's Mansion
>The courtyard looks clear, but you just rolled up
>You could head right in
With my disguises applied, of course.
>You can stake the place out for a moment
>Which allow time for sick banter
>You're a 14 year old in a super team
>Shit is actually pretty lit
>Or anything really
>It's your adventure
>You are Anonymous
Character sheet and allies (Currently only Alabaster statted due to friendship level)
-The brains and looks
-The Magic Horse
-The better looks
>You are Anonymous
??? Although, I rather fancy you as a Prince. Or a little general. Look at this adorable army you've amassed. Show these lamentable leeches not a single ounce of mercy.
Welcome to Do Your Best Quest. A slice of life adventure with supernatural elements where our poor main character is trying to do his best out of the situations at hand, but don’t worry, just trying your best is good enough for him.
You were literally summoned to ‘the Distant Frontier’ by Constance and her partner. Unsure of what’s going on, you asked the most sensible question in this situation.
“What’s going on?” You repeat yourself.
“She said this is her gift to us for saving Constance.” Philonune responds.
“Hey Johnny! Look! I can jump here!” Constance jumps around. Seeing her full of energy weirds you out.
“Don’t pay attention to her for now; we don’t have much time to waste.” Her entity says. “Come here.” She grabs Constance between one pair of her arms.
“I don’t see any presents here, lady.” You look at the nothingness around.
“Hehe… My name is Athelone, I’m Constance’s partner and one of the judges for this deadly game you’re partaking of.” She ignored you.
“Judges? What? I never heard about any judges before.” Philonune says.
“During the fated days, when the game starts, someone has to prepare the battlefield and make the crystals visible, you know?”
“How does that makes you a judge? You’re more like an organizer of sorts.” You question.
“I was given extra tools to make sure you naughty boys don’t cheat and try to kill us and make this a one round game. And I have other obligations I can’t fully disclose…”
“So you stealing those thugs’ flames was part of your abilities as a judge?”
“Indeed, you’re a smart boy.” Knowledge level 3, bitch. “I have other abilities, but this one is the most useful one for you.”
“So I’m taking this as you aren’t participating at all.”
“Correct. I’m just here to watch and maybe aid my friends a little.”
“But what’s the point? You don’t want to be queen of our world?” Philonune retorts.
“I was made specifically to do this job. When I’m done I’ll become one with this cute little girl and heal her wounds. Constance may live a normal life if the winner is someone with a good heart.”
“Your kind only picks sick people?”
“Yes, we’re extending their lifespan by making this pact; we only needed a bridge to connect us to your world. Little Constance should have died a long time ago.”
“But I’m fine! See!” Constance smiles.
>”What other abilities do you have?”
>”Why the green flame?”
>”So what is exactly my present?”
You watch the water run down the outside of the window as you sit waiting.
“Nine nine oh four,” you think to yourself. A number, your number -- your name. You remember when you got it. You were crying along with all your brothers but a smooth voice called out to you in a hushed tone. They placed their fingers on your forehead and told you that you will be something one day. That was the day you were born.
You watch from the reflection as the rest of your brothers enter the room -- ninety-nine batch all of them. You turn from your window and nod at them and watch as the last member of your class enters the pristine white room. Not a brother but another, Mal Wolru, your teacher. Ever since you can remember they were there along with your brothers. They were odd people, but they were the ones who raised you. It has been six years and counting that you’ve been with them but it never felt like they were family. Not like how you were with your brothers. Your brothers understood you, they liked you, they were you -- to a degree. Kaminoan the teachers called themselves; they didn’t call you or your brothers kaminoan even though Kamino is your home too. Clones they called you; people born from another through direct genetic sourcing.
“Class.” Mal says as he motions with his arm toward the window you were once staring out of, “Today you will be learning from the bridge of one of the ships the Republic had designated you to serve in. Once the Republic returns to find their army they expect us to provide specialists who can maneuver and operate their ships. Today you will tour the Acclamator-Class assault ship designated “Dust”. This will take the day and the transport will be provided via LAAT which you should remember from class last week as well as the various flash training programs you’ve all underwent.”
Some of your brothers whistle, others cheer, and some, like you, look back to the diamond in the sky with your brothers blue and red tunics moving about in the reflection. Before you could think about what was going to happen an elbow presses against your side, “Monk, would you look at that beauty? I was hoping to do more with the star fighters today but a ship is a ship.”
Monk. Other than 9904, Monk was your name. A name given to you by your brothers but you’re not too sure why you were given it but the first time you heard it was three years back when a few of your brothers started calling each other names, yours being Monk.
“Bim.. If you kept that head out of the sky you’d do better in the sims.” One of the others remarks before cracking a wide grin and Bim swings at him with a open hand. He steps back one and slaps Bim across the back of his head. 9900, or Klo, is supposed to be the lead of the class but under his perfect scores he’s just another brother and those who were bred to fight tend to fight amongst themselves even if they were only playing around.
“Nine Nine Seven One, Nine Nine Zero Zero stand down before you are detained and dealt with. You all will behave this entire trip or there will be no trip and you will be on crew quarters duty for the next week.” Mal says sternly before motioning the class to follow. Bim sticks his tongue out at the kaminoan and pushes Klo one last time before joining up into formation. The class files through the blast doors situated at the end of the room leading down to the landing pads where several LAATs are sitting ready for the cadets. Mal looks over the class as you gather in the rain in formation. The Kaminoan points to the several squads assigning them to the transports. Finally your squad is herded into the furthest LAAT to the right. As you climb onto the LAAT you are handed a small headset by another Kaminoan before he leaves to tell the pilot to lift off. Static fills your ears for a second and then the familiar voice of Mal reaches you. “The Acclamator-Class is a capital class,, specialization, assault. Created by the Kaut Drive Yard in the yea…”
The Kaminoan drones on “Atop the main hull is a small T-shaped command tower, with two..” You hold onto the handles that were lowered for the cadets. It takes ten minutes to reach the ship but for you it felt like two as you watch the small Kaminoan city below slink into the distance below. “...and ventral turrets, granted the ship a good arc of fire.”
“Landing in three, two.. “ The pilot says over comms before motioning with his long gray fingers to the doors. The doors slide open with a pneumatic hiss before submitting to the dissonant sound of various classes talking. Inside the wide hanger you see the Kaminoan engineers working diligently on maintenance and spot several teachers with their large one-hundred-student classes. Over the comms you can hear Mal start talking about the subsystems of the Acclamator while also directing the clones to the door over to the far left of the room. The LAAT you arrived in takes off as the rest of your squad leaves the transport. Looking about the somewhat littered hanger you watch as several other LAATs land and take off as well as mountains of crates piled up in storage sections of the hanger/hold. Your squad, designated Whiskey, joins in file with the rest of the class as they leave through two large doors. Leading the platoon-sized class through the winding white and black corridors, Mal talks over the hundreds of footsteps on the comms about various specs of the Acclamator. One of the topics that you latch onto are about the turrets as you all enter the side turret emplacement station.
Several Turrets line the right wall with a team of hired men standing around a chair with what you assume to be the controls. Mal walks across the room as the class moves in for formation standing at a distance to the men at the station. Mal finishes speaking with one of the instructors and then stands off to the side.
“Alright master Kal, you may begin.”
“Fire.” The human instructor, a Cuy’val Dar, motions with an open hand to the man sitting in the control seat. A small disc shaped target flings out of the bottom of the turret before the man swings around and fires a single shot destroying the target. “Mechanical skeet. Each packed with explosives for target practice. This turret emplacement is identical to the ones you will find on the field and I am here to ensure you are to control and fire one of these correctly and efficiently. Now..”
He looks at the class and points at one of your brothers who is standing near you-- Thyck. “You there. Take the gun.”
Thyck looks around his brothers and then points at himself dully before walking over to the turret. The boy fidgets with the controls and then steadies before giving the instructor a thumbs up. The rest of the class gathers around the viewing window of the turret seat quickly before they could miss any more. The instructor then places a hand on the shoulder of the man at the station and a small skeet flies out from the bottom of the turret. The boy quickly fidgets with the controls again shooting in wide arcs into the empty space missing the target entirely.
“Not even close. Next.” the operator says muffled by a cloth rag over his face.
“But I only..” the boy insists. The instructor walks over to the boy and sternly looks at the him.
“Oh no, you’re done. You only get one chance, you’re enemy wouldn’t give you more. Hardly gives you one.” He states with his arms behind his back before looking to the class. “Next.”
>What do you do?
>Raise your hand and volunteer to be the next to try your hand at target practice.
>Step back a bit and wait for some of the other members of the class go and learn from them.
>Talk to one of the other clones, (Of what)
>>Who? (Klo, Bim, Thyck.)
Come One, Come All; Welcome to ANOTHER ICARUS RISING QUEST
I am your humble QM, Weaver!
Last Thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1819746/
“We have to go, Yang.” You tell her quietly and for a moment you see a flash of something in her eyes before she nods and rolls off of you. Sitting up you do your best to bury the feelings of slight disappointment you feel at the loss of her presence before walking to the other side of the room to retrieve Ariadne.
Slipping the compact weapon to your back you look to see Yang and give her a nod, to which she only replies with a grin.
“Race ya.” She says with a wink, and by the time your brain realizes what she said she’s bolted out the door.
>A. Accept the challenge, after her!
>B. Let her run, take your time.
>C. There’s no way you're losing, to the window!
You are Lieutenant Richter Von Tracht, officer of panzers for the army of the Archduchy of Strossvald, sole heir to the Von Tracht name, and busy playing at being a deserter while on a secret mission assigned to you by your country’s secret services.
You had completely destroyed the band of Blood Suns- or rather, Death Heads- that you were originally pursuing before finding yourself fortuitously in front of them. Ambushing them in the mountains, you completely routed them and destroyed or captured all of their equipment; that bunch were no longer any threat to you, and would not hinder or rush your efforts to rescue the prisoners they held in their home base deep in the anarchic country of Sosaldt, where you had recently crossed into.
You were waylaid before crossing by a shady sort named Liemanner, an agent of the Blood Suns who, while strangely allowing you to go about your adventure, dictated terms to you that you had to fulfill, or suffer the consequences…before letting you loose into the eastern badlands.
Through a series of meetings, you found yourself face to face with Signy Vang, whom you had thought would have stayed back where you found her in Blumsburgh; apparently not the case, as now she headed an infant union of Sosaldtian territories, and had been dubbed Cyclops.
You had somewhat guessed that she was behind all of this based upon hints given to you by a Sosaldtian before you met with her. Signy had no such forewarning, and her surprise upon seeing you was absolute.
“R-Richter!” she had sputtered, raising her hands reflexively, “What-what-what are you doing here?”
“I should ask the same thing!” you exclaimed, “This is about the last place I expected to see you.” Signy smiled slightly, looking amused, but still fretting over your sudden appearance, “And why are you still wearing that eyepatch?” Your eyes flicked down to her hands, stiff and immobile, despite the rapid movement of the arms before them, “How are your injuries?”
“I-I!” Signy didn’t seem ready to answer everything at once, but she composed herself, and sat down on the chair in front of you. “Gosh…I thought that…aren’t you supposed to be in Valsten, fighting them? But if you’re here, and your tanks look different…you didn’t desert, did you? Why?”
It didn’t seem Signy was going to answer any of your questions before you had addressed this; she was at the edge of her seat, eyes wide.
>Tell her the mission you’ve undertaken, with all details.
>Tell her about your mission, but leave out any personal connections to it.
>Make up some bullshit reason (Write in)
>Insist that you can’t tell her why.
>past threads pastebin @ https://pastebin.com/UagT0hnh
>miscellaneous information pastebin @ https://pastebin.com/k8yuNeuS ---Still barren, because I've been dragging my feet on doing it.
>twitter for announcements is @scheissfunker