Archived threads in /qst/ - Quests - 388. page

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Welcome to Banished Quest!
You take the role of a young mage labeled a criminal by his people and cast out into the wider world. In the last thread you learned that the artificial shard you created was in fact a bomb powerful enough to rip a hole in reality.

It is currently the 5th of Yuddha, in the year 936 NH.

Character Sheet:
http://pastebin.com/8wLGz3HQ
Inventory:
http://pastebin.com/9mxDQn7N
Companions:
http://pastebin.com/tWc3Zjje
Spellbook:
http://pastebin.com/Tu1sVEnQ
Runic Library:
http://pastebin.com/7zQt9XLy
Current Missions:
http://pastebin.com/rzD5PPsU

Dice:
http://pastebin.com/nhswziq6
Magic:
http://pastebin.com/aYPzn0aU
http://pastebin.com/2iHKTQTS
http://pastebin.com/Hu8SUUyL
Combat:
http://pastebin.com/e1peu2ih
http://pastebin.com/1niidZEa
Enchanting:
http://pastebin.com/jUQKQLLx
Fluff:
http://pastebin.com/ydKwNLba
http://pastebin.com/sijmZSSf
http://pastebin.com/UygnkCBe
http://pastebin.com/gR0sgiFu
http://pastebin.com/ibi8j7Md
http://pastebin.com/q8rQUjzS

Archives:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Banished%20Quest
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/Quidam_Asinus
Ask Page:
http://ask.fm/Quidam_Asinus
Tumblr:
http://somaqm.tumblr.com/
IRC Channel:
#BanishedDiscussion on Rizon

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Twitter: QuestingQM

Character Sheet: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jI0aGxA_2h3SAcPYri-1fdgskbK3IbtfEzSLJ7VY9gU/edit

Last time on EDQ, we made our son angry as fuck at us since we tend to eat people's souls, then we waited a while, realized he wasn't coming, and ventured off to find him.

As you get up slowly from the ground, you see Charlemagne trying to dodge out of the way of the angry as fuck minotaur and the dwarf riding him. He does so, and the minotaur turns back towards you, and the dwarf yells something.

"Get out of here boyo, this ain't no place for a manchild!"

"Fuck off..." You say as you slowly get up.

"Hear that Bessie? He needs our help!"

"MY NAME IS NOT BESSIE YOU FUCKING MIDGET!"

The minotaur tries to throw the dwarf off his back, but the dwarf just starts laughing.

"Yer' a strong one! I'll give you that!" and the dwarf starts drinking from a flask in one hand.
Your son just looks mostly confused while this is going on.

"...Can we fight now? Also get this guy who fell down here out of the fucking arena."

"Come on, I'-"

"Shut yer' fuckin' mouth mate!" The dwarf says.

"Charlemagne, remember me at all?"

Underneath his helm, Charlemagne probably squints at you or something.

"...Dad? Why the fuck are you here?!"

"I was wondering why you never came back home."

"Are we going to fight yet?" says the dwarf.

"...Well, maybe."

"GET OFF MY BA-"

The dwarf takes out his canteen again, and starts pouring it down the throat of the minotaur.

"We can do this later lad. You should take care of that guy if he's indeed yer' fuckin' father."

"...I suppose."

"Do I get a say in this?"

"Fuck off mate, now come on Bessie, let's get some more booze!"

"Erh... It feels like my insides are burning..."

"Great! Dwarven booze has a kick to it, eh!?"

The minotaur begins to sway back and forth, and begins to go towards a open door, while your son picks you up.

"Thanks, ch-"

"Don't fucking talk to me."

"Jesus, alright."

He begins to carry you out of the colosseum, while fans are booing this show of sportsmanship and a temporary delay. Eventually you get put into a rather well-furnished room, bed, doors, that sort of thing, and put into a bed.

"Thanks."

Your son still seems rather furious.

"I'd ask why you tried to jump into a middle of a match. I had it under control."

Actions.

>...You looked like you needed help. Sorry.
>Because I need to apologize for last night.
>...Thanks for not beating the shit out of me.
>I'm just... Going to pass out now. Be a nice kid and get me a doctor.
>You've been acting like a child recently, you know.
>Because I'd like an apology for you hitting me.
>Write-In

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Last time, in which we killed Kayaba with Baneposting, and accepted some gifts: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/618264/

My Twitter, for keeping track of when I'm running: https://twitter.com/KayabaQM

The Discord, for Shitposting: https://discord.gg/fzeqYXc

The character sheet, for things that may or may not matter: https://docs.google.com/document/d/17HaIOmLtT6mKhBf71pHVtX7pJ2RFquATuXMkigMd7KU/edit?usp=sharing

>>618984
You see a white ceiling, which is your first clue you're not at your "real" home and the game probably wasn't a dream.

You try to sit up, and find it's a massive struggle, like your body is fighting you, then something tugs at the back of your head. You realize you've got a NerveGear on. You gently pull it off, scooting back in the not-quite-comfortable bed and holding it in your hands.

So it was real, or this whole thing is a dream.

Honestly the truth of it doesn't matter either way, the fact is that you're here, and on the coin toss chance this isn't a dream, you had to treat it as if it was real. You take a slow look around the room, and realize you're not alone.

His hair is longer, and his body is gaunt and half-starved, atrophied.

But it's Kirito, you know that for certain.

He's basically done the same thing as you, and you don't think he's actually seen you, or even knows you're here.

"It's... over" He says, his voice rasping from disuse and lack of fluid.

"iiiits over, aaand I wasn't the one who won..." he coughs, and you see flecks of water fly off his face, tears.

You're not entirely sure if those are tears of joy or pain, and you're not certain you want to find out. You turn the helmet around in your hands, looking at your reflection. Thankfully your face is fixed, but at this point you feel odd not seeing the muzzle poking out, you might end up buying a mask/helmet for yourself to wear in this world too.

Two months is a long time to make and break habits, you guess.

Shit, it was going to be weird seeing Incog without her ears poking out, or Argo without her whiskers, or yourself with a shirt.

You started chuckling to yourself, only to find yourself having a coughing fit, finally alerting Kirito you were there.

"Oh, hey... who are you?"

Of course, no one knew what you looked like under the mask, and even then your face was either switched or glitched, so he didn't know you were Wolf-Man.

You could tell him, since neither of you were strong enough to get into a fight, verbal or otherwise, but at the same time hiding your in game identity might be a good idea.

Tell him your real name (pick a real name)
Tell him you're the Wolf-Man

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Previous:http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/602814/
Char Sheet: http://pastebin.com/gccDj2ef
Other chars: http://pastebin.com/0igFQkgf

It was a cold, dreary Brausrburge day. The sky was the same dark grey as ink spilled and mixed into a tub of freezing cold water. Black clouds drifted through the dark sky, gathering together like a swarm of bone eating wasps as they slowly turned the day darker, blotting out what little light there was left in it.

Rain began to fall, as the wind picked up and turned into a howling wail running through the darkened sky. The waves of the coast whipped up, crashing into the cliffs of Miller castle as the trees of the forest danced with such ease, they looked like a field of grass being gently blown by a light morning breeze. But the grand castle itself almost seemed untouched by the storm raging around it, sitting stoically on its perch, lights shining through its many windows as lighting crashed in the distance among massive shadows rolling through the abyss like sea just off of the coast, as mist slowly rolled over towards the great city of men and monsters.

However inside of the palace of the queen of monsters, things were rather different. Layla Miller sat on her throne, the only light in the grand room coming from flashes of lighting, and the glowing red eyes of her and her youngest daughter, Iris Miller.

Sitting next to the recently changed princess, who's tail was coiled around her as she tried to hide herself with her own pair of wings with a terrified look in her eyes, was the demon Malizeral. With skin as pale as a pearl, and golden almost amber orange eyes with constantly shifting pupils, she had grown and matured very well, looking like the fantasies of many lonely men...or women.

Her master, Iris, had also changed. She looked much healthier now, no longer looking as fragile and weak as she had most of her life, and of course wasn't touching upon the black scales she grew, her mouthful of fangs and Tail. Layla smirked as she gazed down upon her beloved daughter's reptilian eyes and then grinned, baring her own fangs.

Malizeral shrunk back in her wings a bit more as the Lamia stood up, spreading her wings of smoke as she slowly walked towards her daughter and the fattened up Familiar. Iris stared at her mother like she was bored, and stood up calmly with a controlled smirk on her pale lips.

Malizeral whimpered and tried to hide behind her master's tail, almost looking see through as Layla glanced down at her and sighed slowly, making her freeze up.

"So" the queen said, holding back either amusement or anger as she smiled a bit wider "Can either of you tell me why that eyesore of a castle is sitting outside of our home...also don't worry, your aunt explained why there's an army inside of it, Iris"

She turned back to the demon, and frowned

cont

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this is a continuation, please read either the old thread:
>>564443

OR use the new archive made for this quest
from the start:
http://sweetarchives.tumblr.com/post/150375144188/kitchen

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Let's go boys, time for a stoned man's Civ Thread, hosted by yours truly: Me.

FIRST VOTE: Race.
Goal: Majority vote

Location will come after race. It makes no sense to pick the location without knowing what the fuck you are.

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Your vision is blurred and your ears are ringing. "What in the hole Throne happend?". You say to yourself as you slowly get up.

But as you get up you can see what have become of the rest of your squad while you where knocked out.
Private Gettru, or what's left of him is sprew all over the wall of the bunker, while gunner Camilla's corpse hang over the now silent autocannon.
You start to remember what transpired before you were knocked out. A missile had truck your bunker along with a hail of bullets. But before you even consider how lucky you where to have the Emperor by your side you begin to do the standard self check procedure that you read about in the Guardmans Uplifting primer™.

You remember being in the "312th Noxian division" stationed on the moon Ortu-II to fight rebels that have denounced the Imperium of Man.

But who are you?
>What's your name?
>Are you male or female?
>What role did you serve in your (former) squad?

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Imagine that a colony ship from the interstellar human empire crashed on a very fantasy world, like for example, futuristic helos like the ones in halo vs dragons

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> [[ Previous Threads ]]
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Broken%20Sky
> [[ Unique Identifier: Ascheritte ]]
http://pastebin.com/pZv3XUPQ
> [[ Twitter ]]
https://twitter.com/BrokenSkyOnline
> [[ Ask Page ]]
http://ask.fm/Sylvetican

You and your newfound ally Crow have unleashed an onslaught of Celestial power so impressive in its magnitude and utterly malefic in its appearance that it’s left the others in your party – only one other Artifact user in their midst – standing still, stricken suddenly by a curious mixture of awe and terror. Your foe, a chained ogre from the Earthsea, is a tenacious one, though now he slowly dies, putrid blood surging, pouring forth from the myriad wounds your strikes have left behind.

Charging forward at the titan, you leap skyward, the last vestiges of foreign power slipping from your grip as Strife Memoriam’s effect wears off. Your sword finds a home between the bars of the beast’s cage-like helmet, piercing clean to the other side; you draw it just as quickly, leaping to the ground in preparation for another low strike, swinging at about the knee.

Your foe still lives, and still able to fight: what is this thing? The ogre’s mace, a ruined ceremonial-looking weapon, swings like a pendulum down towards you while you’re already committed to the strike. Pushing further, you all but hamstring the beast, and it sinks suddenly in its stance as the head of the mace imprints firmly in the center of your chest.

> [[ HP: 8 / 35 ]]
> [[ Dazed ]]

> [[ earthsea mongrel was defeated. ]]
> [[ You have 1 unspent EXP. ]]

A familiar buzzing sensation, a dullness pressed tightly against every last nerve in your torso. You have trouble drawing breath, feeling like your chest has been caved in, as you tumble toward the edge of the cliff. Your body crashes through a rock spire as you roll, and you see it somehow amidst the sounds of the underground and the sight of yourself spinning beneath you.

The Celestial Gem, dislodged from a crystal growth, spins through the air, falling over the side so close to the edge of the cliff. Your eyes widen, almost forgetting the very danger you’re in, rolling uncontrollably toward the very same edge, a certainly-lethal fall without your Artifact available, even with your equipment and abilities.

The situation is painfully slow, no better for the sensations you feel as you skid across the plateau like a stone skipping across water. The force of that blow was incredible, the cliff getting closer each moment. Your party is running towards you, voices muted by your bloodrush. The last available handhold will soon pass you by.

> Write-in.

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distinct lack of risk threads
you know the rules, you can read the rules,
'he who controls brussels controls brussels'

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Previously on 1940's Mech Quest...

Your mission is running smoothly. You found a tunnel on the map and decided to use it to reach the enemies village. You executed enemy forces guarding the tunnel and used a Jeep to reach the end. You decided it would be best to sneak Corporal Standley out instead of using force.


Made a twitter account so I can let you guys know when I will be running: https://twitter.com/Slavenrhymes

Character stats, party and equipment:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YGBWsk1acEKflIM_NR4AJB5NIWQTywnTz4FZJt_o-tU/edit

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ARCHIVE: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Dungeon%20Life%20Quest
PREVIOUS THREAD: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/583431/
CHARACTERS AND PLACES: https://docs.google.com/document/d/19gNVgtevar647l4ZumUaVH6GlJzvxLlDNKaH8DrQMWE/edit?usp=sharing

You are Lora.

You are Aphrael, and Azrael, and the Arcadian, but to this giant, you are Elli, "old age", who claims all regardless of glory or shame.

Today, you claim the last son of the giants.

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Green gunk slipped and pooled beneath the bending branches. Octor held his breath but it was little use, the noxious odor burned his nostrils and eyelids. He blinked away half-formed tears and moved quietly through the jungle. In the distance a nighthawk hooted, close by, a shadow moved noiselessly past the bushes. Closer still, wet footsteps sucked up the mud as Octor walked. Octor fumbled for his left breast pocket, wedging his hand between the cracked leather breastplate and the soiled overcoat and searching deftly with his fingers for a cool metal flask. The flask was too light. Still, Octor brought the metal lip to his own dry, broken lips. A few drops of liquor spilled onto his tongue, barely enough to bring up the memory of its taste and certainly not enough to drown out the putrid stench.

The moon shot in through the leaves and lit up the flask like a beacon. Octor closed the flask and returned it to its home in his left breast pocket. He felt sober. Not a pleasant feeling he decided, it felt a lot like misery.

The creeping shadow moved closer, matching its silent footsteps to the periodic sucking noises. Octor felt guilt push his stomach down like a lead brick. He fingered the bead bracelet on his left wrist, it was crudely made and the beads were cracked and missing paint in places but it was a present from his daughter and therefore beyond all material worth. He tried to picture her face in his mind, but nothing came. He tried to imagine what she might look like now, but again, nothing came. He stopped, and felt the sudden importance of remembering.

The shadow, too focused on the rhythm of the noise faltered and mistepped at the sudden cease. The mud gave way to a foot that was not Octor's, Octor's hand moved automatically to his short sword. The shadow froze; to move now would be giving himself away, to not move was suicide. Octor spun around, squinting through the thick bushes and globs of green dripping from the trees. He quietly drew his blade, the knuckles were white.
"Show yourself, fiend! I know you! I know your name!"

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Welcome to infinite dungeon quest! We are trapped in the infinity dungeon and need to get out!

LAST TIME: We used our love of jack to destroy Weeaboo Gundam

OUT ITEMS: Trident, Blaster, Shotgun, Lucky rabbit foot, suit of armor, badass cloak,dragon jizz, 1 bomb, robo-arm

LAST THREAD: >>>603838

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Previous Thread: http://http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/44020820/
Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Sith+Apprentice+Quest
Rules: http://pastebin.com/iR7AnakA
Force Points: http://pastebin.com/F93igU32
Character Sheet: http://pastebin.com/29y0QFGu
Character Bios: http://pastebin.com/5uaa6LM6
Force Points: 3
Twitter: @sith_q

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Yes Master, I've heard stories of masked Sith, walking the battlefield and killing all in their path. Mysterious and unreadable. I like the sound of that."

You say, as you whispered tales of indestructible nightmares by tired old men from the days of your youth.

"Very well, to your right there is a console for such commissions. Provide it with a work order to your specifications, and it will be delivered to you when it is ready."

Darth Incarnus says, motioning you toward a large computer on the right wall of the armory next to a large rack of laser rifles. You approach it, Watcher 18 hovering behind you to attend to any questions or needs you might have. The interface blinks into life, with a long and complicated form requesting personal information and verification of your station. After filling it out with some assistance from Cassidi the interface provides you a field in which to detail the specifications for your commission.

>Due to the unique nature of this interaction there will be a 15 minute interval where quest participants will be allowed to submit pictures or visual descriptions of a helmet or mask to be voted on by other participants. I will also be submitting some rough ideas provided at the end of last thread. This time limit may be altered depending on reader count to allow some people to meander into the quest since it's been so long. Afterward we will have a 10 minute voting period on the submitted entries to determine Xanth's head gear.