Archived threads in /qst/ - Quests - 387. page

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So, I have a problem. One that seems suited to 4chan, which is why I'm asking you weirdos for advice.

See, for some reason, my highschool decided to send us all to "monstergirlland", which is pretty much exactly like it sounds. They took the girls somewhere else and shoved us boys into the main park. Everybody else kind off wandered off. I'd go buy some cotton candy, but I just saw one of my classmates raped and then carried off by some snake woman. I'm not into being raped and then carried off.

So, anyone got any ideas how to escape?

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It hurts to open your eyes. Once more you wake up on the metal slab of iron somewhere deep in the sprawling depths of Sec Maegra. Ashton comes to your side and unplugs cables from your cranium.
>How did it go this time?
You cough, then spit out stale filth from your mouth.
>Same as the last dozen times I tried it. We get massacred. This time even worse, we barely made it in past the first levels. Just one lucky warrior was enough to decimate all of us. We need something else. A new plan. Maybe something to distract them or to give us an edge.
Ashton smiles.
> We can run simulations all we like, but sooner or later we will have to act. And Kabal's haven is a fortress. I heard you Astartes had some sort of Codex or something. Like a warrior bible, where allegedly there is an explanation on how to deal with any military situation. We were told that you, I mean Astartes, are drilled to memorise it by heart. So what do you think we should do now? We have men and xenos alike whom you managed to convince to follow you, but what do you want us to do?

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Proving to the world that you are not dead has given the crowd a few minutes of glee, after which normality resumes and the trumpets blare again. The show must go on and Bryld faithfully escorts you to the field, where you can still have a good view of the joust, should you be interested.

Your cast arm is itching already. Figures. It hurts a bit but you can't do anything about it, you have to be a bit careful when you walk instead because the sun's intense glare is giving you a headache and it's mildly discomforting, sometimes slightly blurring your vision, and even when you can find solace in a bit of shade, such as from a tent or someone who's really tall, there's still that bit of discomfort hanging at the back of your head that you just can't shake off.

But at least you don't have a brain aneurysm, and your head isn't broken, your skull isn't cracked and everything is still in place. Your horn, however, is still chipped and you've carefully pocketed the broken-off piece so that Tahenohan may glue it back on with her necromantic magic in case the cute priest of Jure, whose name still escapes you, isn't capable of making your broken part grow back.

Maybe Tahenohan will also animate your skeleton once you die. You'll certainly be a sight to behold even in death as you presume not many skeleton warriors have natural horns.

You blame your headache for those morbid thoughts and drive them off your mind as you witness a clash and one of the contenders fall off their PecoPeco. The fall feels heavy and rough, but it's a lot cleaner than how yours was. He certainly didn't chip a horn. Not that he had one in the first place.

You wonder if Pam ever chipped a horn. Or Astreya, for that matter. From what little you've seen of them you can't imagine how such an incident might have happened, and Astreya's horns are the result of ether mutation anyway, meaning she can probably just grow them back naturally. Heck maybe they're still growing.

"That was the last clash from the first round", Bryld informs you, she really does know more than you do about this, "Since there's so few participants the next clash will take half the time and then... Well, the final will be between three of them so it'll be a bit tricky, I don't know how they'll handle that", she ponders for a moment but doesn't really come up with an answer, she just mutters something and then shrugs.

Technically you don't need her to be at your side to support you, you can walk just fine, it's just your right arm which is out of commission. Speaking of which, that'll make it a bit difficult to go about your daily life. You'll have to learn to eat and write with your left hand for the time being...

>"Let's move to the bleachers, surely we can take a seat there?".
>"Let's stay here and see who wins".
>Look for familiar faces in the crowd instead.
>Other?

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Once upon a time there was a lord who lived in the mountains of the moon. This is not the story of that lord. Oh no. This is the tale of a house of dorne using the song of ice and fire roleplaying game using the rules from the green ronin rpg.

To begin with, we must know- well where we want to begin! This is your story after all.

Where in Dorne do you want to stake your claim, and what time period do you want this story to take place? And who is our dashing protagonist? Or are they not so dashing?

I can help make things a little easier and instead of you guys trying to figure out exactly when you want our story to take place I can offer you up a host of mystery boxes to pick from for dates.

Additionally I have been offered a unique way to give your character more story, something unusual. If you want to add to a bit of mystery to this campaign we can take this occulted route as well.

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Pastebin:http://pastebin.com/jCGAA6J2
Archive:http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=dog%20days%20quest
Twitter:https://twitter.com/Announcer_QM

"Gughhfhg."

"Jack!" A tiny figure pulls at your coat. "Jack! You have to hurry! Kayda's in trouble!"

"GHhthghugh. Oh! Yosh, Lowise. Goodye seeye in ye morning."

"Jack, it's four in the afternoon!"

"This isn't working." A larger, brown-haired figure stands next to her. "Looks like we might need more drastic measures."

Ye are Jarck Albater, goodseyed sail-man, wondrous rinnie-tube, and ye make good convo in the hanvo!
Aye, mate, that kinda stings thar, little gorl.

Louise's hands sparkle, and every pat on your shoulder feels like a tiny bee-sting.

"I said UP! UP! UP! UP! UP! UP! UP! UP!" A fizzling pop echoes across your body with each and every touch.

But sheys' a little too yong to get ye up. Ahahah, if only Tuile'd be here right now. She'd get it.

"Louise, step aside."
The taller woman looms over you with an unlabeled bottle.

With a pour, at least a quarter of it goes straight into your mouth-
"YEEEEEEAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-"

You immediately jolt upward, and Camille proceeds to douse you with water.

"Rise and shine, Jack!" Camille is smiling, "Looks like you have to go be a big hero, again."
"Ugh." You cough, the feeling of whatever that was still lingers in your throat, "What the hell happened?"

"We had a talk about things, you drunk a whole bottle of liquor, and then you fell down the stairs." Camille smirks, "So an average afternoon, with you."

"Then I got here, and you wouldn't get UP!" Louise pouts, "This is important! There's like a ring inside of Kayda!"

Your head turns to the little firecracker.
"A what?"
"A ring! There's a ring inside of Kayda! Atsuko thinks there's a demon inside of it!"

"Did she, err, swallow it?"
"No! It's attached to something inside of her!"

Camille glances in your direction for just a moment, and you suddenly realize that she doesn't know what Louise is talking about.

"Aye, so." You stand up, and deftly reach for your soaked hat. "-ere's a ring, like, a metal one, inside of Kayda. It may er may not have somethin' to do with demons. What're we gonna do?"
"I DON'T KNOW, I WOULDN'T ASK YOU IF I KNEW!"

"Louise, please." Camille picks a bag up, it appears to have some kind of insignia on the side. "We're going to go deal with it right now, so please stay here."

>Let's go.
>Camille, yer not goin' anywhere to fight demons.
>Stay here with Louise.
>Louise and I are going, we're the heroes, and this could get dangerous.
>Other?

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>Information

This quest takes place long before the events of The Last Airbender. Long before Aang, Roku, Kyoshi, Kuruk, or Yangchen. You play as a young Earthbender from a small village in one of the many Kingdoms scattered across the main continent. As a powerful villain strives to dominate the world, you will be forced to make choices that can stop it, aid it, or have no effect whatsoever.

>Rules

After each update I make, there will be a voting period of ten minutes. Once ten minutes have passed, whatever option has the most support will be the winner.

Write-ins are accepted, but only when specified If you see a write-in option, suggest whatever you like. If not, choose from the options I have provided.

Sometimes, rolls will be required. I will assign them, and they will operate under a d100 system. You will have three chances, and if one of the rolls succeeds, you pass. There are no crits, but I do take into account how much you succeed or fail by.

I reserve the right to veto certain write-ins, but will try to avoid doing so.

I hope you all have fun

>>Previous threads

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=earthbender+quest

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You are a disgruntled everyman. Your purpose is to kill THE MAN. You are a not-very-strict vegetarian.

You are currently in your household, located in the olden gardens greenish, about two miles east of the VONGBOLK TOWNSHIP. That is where you expect to find and kill THE MAN.

Your inventory consists of a MASSIVE REVOLVER, a FALSE MOUSTACHE, and a POCKET-EDITION CIGAR BOX.

What will you do first?

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>>Previous threads can be found at: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Samsara%20Quest
>>For information about characters and the quest: http://pastebin.com/NNLpWDJB

Birdsong is completely and utterly absent when you awaken.

Instead you just hear the soft wind blowing from the east, trees rustling, and the rustling below you as soldiers prepare for a fight. You smell cooking dinner- fire lit helpfully by a bulky, red-scaled lizard familiar. It smells good- you'll have to sample a bit of everything. Shamash cuisine seems a lot richer than what you're used to. Probably because they can actually domesticate animals, since they have no risk of monsters here.

The sky is clear and blue, except for the huge, shuddering crack in the sky. Ugly violet glyphs burn in a circle around the crack, as it seems to ooze dimensional foam. You'd almost say it was disharmonious, if you were the kind of asshole who actually talked like that. Ever since you first saw it, you've been burning with curiosity- how would it work? Why is it so crude? Why, in the Scholar's name, is it so large? If you get your way, you might get some answers.

Today's the day you face the Black Witch. Spending the night was risky, this close to the Black Witch, but Neloch swore that he couldn't sense any of her dweomers or sensory spells nearby. Not to mention that the camp was pretty crowded, covered in trees and foliage- invisible from the sky.

Cera is curled up, the only one still asleep. In one corner of camp, Neloch and Rathod are talking, the latter reassembling his golem around him. You also spy Uldora and Brun chatting on a fallen log. You can't see Rikar anywhere- he must be in the command tent, in the center of the camp.

You get to your feet, dumping your sleeping bag and exorbitantly soft and squishy pillow back where they'd come from- your dimensional pocket- with your magic, pull your heavy boots on, and give Cera a slight kick to the feet on your way down the hill.

Just like you'd thought, the command tent held Rikar, all three Wing Captains, and the two captains of the Claw and Talon regiment. They were poring over a map of the fortress, discussing in a low tone. Rikar brightens the moment he sees you. "Jasmine! We were waiting for you."

The captains eye you warily, but the Talon captain just shrugs. "Let's get on with it. You said the girl had a plan?"

"The Lady-" emphasizes Rikar- "came up with a general battle plan. The wizards- Jasmine's people- will face the Black Witch in direct conflict. Lady Krital herself will fly to the... object in the sky, and see if she can close it with the intention of weakening the Witch. I believe her specialty lies in that area. Your jobs will be to deal with the familiars, and to get the wizards to their positions. Your goal is distraction- to destroy the witches' resources, damage the fortress, whatever necessary."

He turns to you. "Did I miss anything, Lady? Or did you have any other thoughts?"

>?

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The village of Greytower is not cleverly named. Certainly, nobody would look at the collection of dowdy houses and barns around what could only charitably be described as the town square without their eyes immediately being drawn to the tall, solemn spire that rises from the hill to the north.

It's a common enough phenomenon, in this country. No matter how remote or desolate the environment, be it blistering desert or sucking bog, if a Mage puts up a tower, sooner or later it will attract settlers. It can be hard to tell exactly who's taking advantage of whom, sometimes.

The settlers get protection, and the Mage gets a convenient place to procure supplies, labor, or whatever else he demands. It works, but only so long as the Mage remains. It's the Mage's presence that holds the town together; he keeps away raiders, geiststorms, and perhaps most importantly, the Imperial tax-men.

The Mage of Greytower was a good one, by most accounts, which meant that he more or less kept to himself and let the town handle its own business as long as the supplies kept coming. You're pretty sure he's dead now, if the crack nearly splitting his tower in half is any indication, and the town isn't in much better shape after that storm last night. Things are going to get really complicated unless somebody comes up with a plan in a hurry.

Unfortunately, that somebody is probably going to have to be you.

One of you, anyway.

> Isara Greytower, the Heir. Stubborn. Clever. Powerless.
> Duncan Miller, the Changeling. Charming. Lucky. Watched.
> Anne Whitelock, the Warden. Strong. Respected. Dying.

(The characters not picked as MC will exist in town as NPCs. There may be chances to control them later.)

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Your name is Lesketar. You're the designated hero of the land.

Before you start this /qst/, what are your dominant melee and ranged weapons?

Melee
>sword
>battleaxe
>dagger

Ranged
>bow
>magic
>sling

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.
.
.
The sun chirrped and burrped. She cried too. There was no earth for her to shine on. No Mars to tickle...No Jupiter to harass. Yet, she couldn't lift a finger to face her lover's killers.

You.

You had a goal to achieve, you are oh so close. you could almost taste it. It was like sweet licks of an ice cream in a hot summer day.

Your duality was starting to fade like a fleeting dream. How is this possible?

It seems that all flavors are black in the Muuuuuseum....

There it was, the very thing that toyed with your and everyone's life in the museum. Kill it! You are strong enough to do it! The evil deeds done by your hand will aid you. I promise...

>Write a letter to your legal adviser to bring the creator of Museum to court for his crime.
>Sing a song with strong emphasis on the wonders of your black tongue both literally and figuratively
>Pull out your heart, fight Picture of a god
>Don't choose anything, wait five minutes for an automated response from You too

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:)

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>Hello! I'm another dumbass who wanted to make a quest and so I found my way here.

>My knowledge of 30/40k is not perfect, far from it infact, so feel free to point out any glaring inconsistencies that arise.

>The mechanics are very loosely based off of Dark Heresy- so it'll be a 1d100 roll under style. This might change in the future as I assess my options.

Without further ado...

You are being created, it’s quite an odd sensation, though perhaps that’s because you don’t have many sensations to yet weigh it against…

However your creator is bestowing you with a few now, filling your mind with vast experience and intuition, though most of it is hidden under the surface, waiting to reveal itself.

You try to prod at them momentarily, before realizing the futility- perhaps it will be easier later?

Ah, now you’re being given something special.

Your creator carves a piece from himself and places it within you, so that it might strengthen and nurture you and you it.

Pick one:
>A part of his vast knowledge and intellect.

>A fraction of his will.

>Some of his empathy and understanding.

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It is dark, you have been dormant for so long, millennia, your mind wanders and dreams of civilisations long since past. The stillness and blackness of the void is shaken as the ship you inhabited for so long clunks and creaks. Another vessel has finally found you. You feel the ship being pulled into the belly of another much larger cruiser. Your eyes peel open as the ship thuds to a stand still, the larger vessels artificial gravity kicking it, you feel weight again for the first time in as long as you can remember. You are hungry. Dust begins to slowly fall and settle on the floor, your eyes roll around their decrepit eye sockets in the darkness of your eternal home. After several minutes you will your limbs and muscles into motion. The walls of your ship hum as you feel the intruders slicing into the hull, slowly but surely penetrating your metallic nest. You are hungry. You are alone, separated from the whole by millions of light years. It is cold and there are intruders on your vessel. Your crack and unfurl from your cocoon like corner. Twisted flesh and alien muscles awakening. The room was a storage closet in the centre of the ship. You feel the thud of metal collapse to the floor ahead of you as the aliens penetrate the outer shell. Stepping out into the corridor you crack your neck from left to right, your eyes barely making out layout of the ship. Ahead you hear footsteps
>Go left
>Go right
>Go Ahead
>Go back into closet
>Other

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You check over your Armor one more time, The new sheer Black contrasting with the Colors of your chapter upon your right Shoulder. Freshly Seconded to the Deathwatch, You are enroute to the Watch Fortress ‘Unending Vigil,’ But you are not the only Space Marine Aboard this Ship, four others also wear the Black alongside you. Even without your enhanced hearing you’d be able to hear the bellowing laughter of a Space Wolf from the Meal Hall of the Vessel, but without it you would not hear the soft Prayers of the Dark Angel from his chamber. A soft Creaking come from the Chamber of the Red Scorpion, most likely pacing his room in deep thought. You Don’t get to listen any further before your door Chimes, Another Space Marine asking entry.

“Enter.” You call from your Bench, only to be greeted by your final Brother. His Pauldron is A deep Cream color, emblazoned with a blood drop covered Raven.

“Greetings, Brother. I had meant to do this before we departed Watch Fortress Talasa, but You boarded after me, may I know Your Namel?” Calls the Blood Raven, Extending a Hand in greeting.

> What is Your Name and Chapter, Brother?