Archived threads in /qst/ - Quests - 555. page

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Last thread got autosaged. Find it here:
>>150694
Last we left off, a Muslim insurrection wrecked our forces, destroyed a secret military facility, wrecked one of our allies' forces and stole our monkeys.
>Call up reserves. Surround the Muslim infested areas and pin them, then bring heavy weapons to bare on them, while closing the circle.
>Put out a call for a militia to be formed by the locals, headed by local loyalists and patriots. Give them training and a bit of funding, and the ability to purchase arms.
>We will use the militia to help plug gaps in out lines and hold or guard rear areas so we can save on manpower and apply it towards the enemy. Ensure that the militia gets a subtle amount of propaganda to motivate and embolden them to fight and be vigilant.
Reserves from all around the country are called in, as now part of the Muslim forces is busy pillaging Muntelnig. Will we be able to put this insurrection under control?
Will we ever know what happened to our beautiful monkeys and the little abominations they were carrying?
Will the king of Muntelnig ever grow a spine?
Learn all this and more in this new installment of Rulerquest!

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Previous thread >>151647

RECAP

You are Natalya Ilyushina, a non-Girtablilu scorpiongirl. Setting is the USSR during the start of WW2 where EVERYONE is a monster girl.

You were a mercenary, fired from the company after killing your team in a botched mission. You drink your days away in a pub in Opochka before deciding to take up some freelancing, heading to the town board you respond to various letters asking for help. On one of these jobs you meet a pragmatic hellhound named Eva. Heading to the same job, she attacks you, cracking your carapace and leaving you bruised to secure it for herself. In revenge you dislocate her arms at the elbow, dragging her off to an alleyway to question her. She doesn't seem to hold a grudge. She accepts your offer of help, carting her back on a trolley, she leads you back to her home, a makeshift settlement located under an overpass. It has a population of around 200, with its buildings constructed mostly out of out of corrugated metal.

You head to the back of an abandoned munitions factory to complete the job, you find a grisly scene, walls and dirt soaked with blood, a centaur shovels bodies into a van. Killing the centaur, you look around for a place to wash the blood and mud off your body. This is where you find an elf-child, Katya. You adopt her, bringing her back to camp. She's mature for her age, and very endearing. You take her back to camp in the same manner you took Eva, at MAXIMUM SPEED.

Returning to the munitions factory, you remove the bodies from the van with a shovel, use a tarp to cover the vast majority of blood stains and drive it back to the settlement where Ludya, the closest thing to a mechanic in the camp washes it for you.

You spend the next few days with Eva and Katya, building up your relationship with them. Katya doesn't seem keen on leaving your side, but Eva alleviates this by teaching her life lessons, how to survive on the streets and how to fire a gun. Confronted one night by an unruly hobo, she accuses you of wasting camp resources, eating their food while providing nothing in return. You remedy this by suplexing her, while also offering your services as a camp guard.

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Your eyes lock with his as the land scape shifts beneath your feet. You pay the shaking earth no mind, neither of your eyes blinking as, without moving, you both take to the battlefield of the mind to decide the outcome of this duel. Your opponent’s gaze is intense, yours vacant as he finally comes to a decision on his next grand play.

“Got any threes?” Galblassa demand.

“Unfortunately, no,” comes your response.

You are Lee: bard, lover, fighter, master of cards, and more recently numbered among the walking dead. Now, after a week of intense training, you find yourself with a bit of free time as you continue on your journey seeking restitution from the baron who almost killed the mother of one whose the crypt you woke up in not two weeks ago. And though you’re traveling in less than high fashion in the process, settled in the back of a horse cart with your much larger lizard companion taking up most of the space, you at least find yourself in good company along the way.

“Whoa, steady there!” comes Michael’s call from up ahead, a command to the horses as they whinny at another cart coming from the opposite direction on the small country road you are traveling on.

“Best to move out of the way, so they can pass,” Margy advises, and so with a quick snap of the reigns, you find the cart swaying to the side and coming to a stall.

> What to do?
> [] Strike up a conversation, try to get some information about where you are going
> [] Stay quiet. No need to bring attention to yourself

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TEMPLARS:
You are a paladin and your holy quest leads to the hellish lands of the south.
Your mission is to drive the Saracens out of the holy land and reclaim the city where Christ have risen.
The Pope has decreed that heroes of the divine church must answer the call to drive out the heretics, will you answer the call?
JIHADISTS:
You are sent into position to defend the holy city of Jerusalem from the evil Infidels. You must smite them down in the name of Allah and defend your land from the invaders of the North.
GUIDE:
>Point of the mission for templars is to capture the holy relic
>Point of the mission for jihadists is to defend holy relic
>Pick your side and name
>OP will draw the battle lines
>Each player gets a squad of 25 soldiers, each player must choose what is among his ranks
>Bowmen can attack at a range, use medium attacks, are moderately fast 25 building damage 50 health 50 damage 50 speed
>Foot soldiers are armored, use good attacks, but are very slow 50 building damage 100 health 100 attack 25 speed
>Horsemen are made to destroy gates, use weak attacks, and go very fast 100 building damage 25 health 25 attack 100 speed
>Jihadist gate has 5,500 HEALTH!
>You must specify what groups you want so I can draw it out
>Each time something dies it goes to the other team
>Last digit of the post determine success
>Evens are successful
>Odds are failures
>0's stay put and do nothing
>Choose where to position your soldiers, C stands for Crusader area, J for Jihadist
>Make sure to tag your name so I know what to put into the drawing
More to explain bellow

EXAMPLE:
>Chad Thunder Cock
>Templars side
>I choose to have 10 archers, 10 foot soldiers, and five horsemen
ROLL EXAMPLE:
>I choose to move 10 foot soldiers to fight the saracens on Y
I will try to get at least 10 people in on each side but that's the limit I can do
We'll begin when atleast 4 players join, anyone can join

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IT quest time!
PicK a charocktor;
KOOL CID!
SASUKEY UCHIHAM
KOOL GRF
OR
BLACK.

PIC 1 off them.

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You stand in a fairly blank room.

[Please suggest an action]

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pixel art because i can't draw for shit

you have magic. your name is ark. you have no parents. you have no home. you don't really recall anything. what do you do?

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Our protagonist has been succ(ked) into a wormhole! And as you can tell from the bags under his eyes, he's seen some shit and has the ability to see things others cannot!

LOCATION: Dimension 27-Q

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The story of ______ the Jailfu.

Roll 1d100 to determine the woman - then we create a zombie story where she has to live in a post apocalyptic world.

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There is but one goal. Amass a fortune to create a universe.

You wake up in a world of darkness. Surrounding you is a sea of "sleepers" (those yet to wake). Sitting up and surveying the area, you see others are waking as well.

You are completely naked yet exactly who you are. You have no tools. There are no structures. There is only dark above and dark below and dark as far as the eye can see,

Death has no power here and thus life holds no meaning. If attacked by another awoken you could die but can return to exact revenge.

As an awoken you have been blessed with a single ability. You can create up to any two objects (one for each hand or one for both hands) from memory. If you die one item is left behind and the others return to darkness. The items returned to darkness may be recreated upon revival. The one item left behind becomes a object available for all to obtain but cannot be recreated by the same awoken.

Conjured objects cannot be longer/taller or weight more than the conjurer. Your carry capacity is limitless.

Refer to the last digit of your post to determine if an attack was a hit or a miss. 1-3 is a hit. 4-9 & 0 is a miss. Only posts three complete sentences or longer qualify as a hit. If you miss your attack counts as a fumble and you cannot attack again until the defending poster decides to strike back or you may roll for a disengage (odd numbers & 0) and run away.

Disengage posts must be four complete sentences AND be posted before the defending anon strikes back.

The defending poster must respond to a hit with two complete sentences and roll an even number to dodge. If they roll an even # the dodge becomes a counter and the poster they counter must now make a dodge roll.

If the defending anon rolls a 0 their counter is an automatic hit.

If the defending poster rolls an odd number they must die and relinquish a single item to the victor. They can revive at any time.

If you require assistance, pray upon A Distant Star and any post ending with an 8 may be blessed by a response.

To begin, assign yourself a trip and // W A K E // U P \\ by posting a reaction image with an introduction. Do whatever you like from there, but let's try to avoid molesting the sleepers. Anyone who kills a sleeper molester gets an immediate blessing.

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The evening air is unusually cold, an overcast sky quickly darkening as the sun slips bellow the horizon and your car slips beneath the shadow of Quito's spaceport superstructure. You bring your hand to your shoulder in a quick twitching motion, swatting at what feels like a hot needle stabbing into your arm only to feel cold metal alloy. You stare at your arm, a numb, plastic and metal plated hunk of servos that clicks softly as it rests on your lap. Somewhere beneath it, you can still feel your arm, your real arm, stinging, burning, as if your shoulder is still somehow linked to the shredded pile of meat left on some operating table back in that hospital. The synthetic arm twitches as you tense up from the pain.

“Are you sure we should not return to the hospital?” Lyle asks. You give it some thought, but only enough to dismiss it.

“No, I'm fine.” You say, “just phantom pain is all.” You try to test out your new arm. It feels sluggish, as if submersed in oil, the haptic sensors in the fingers an island of input in the otherwise numb block of polymer bolted to your shoulder.

“Full nerve integration is known to prevent errant neural sensations.” Lyle says. “Your current prosthetic is a placeholder model. It was intended to be used to calibrate a properly sized and fitted arm, which is why I would recommend returning to-”

“Lyle, enough. It works just fine.” You say as you try to stretch the artificial muscles to the sound of creaking plastic and squeaking servos. “Where did that spacer say he wanted to talk, exactly?”

“He claimed he would be waiting at the department.”

“Good, go ahead and take us to the office then, I could use a coffee while we're at it.”

You lean back in your seat and rub at the bridge of your nose with your good hand as your other feels submerged in hot needles. The drive is long and silent. Time well spent thinking long and hard about the past two days. This case.

A man falls from the Quito dock to his death, driven to leap out the window of a Helios office in a panic after his computer ran a rather large executable file called Snow Crash. Soon after, a man fired from the same company dives through his window after running the same program and sending it to a hacker he was in contact with, who was found near death hooked into his custom VR computer who then sent the program to a robotics factory. All three were implanted with neural augmentations, and the factory almost instantly suffered mass hysteria, the robots going mad, and anyone with neural augs going insane and either killing themselves or suffering a seizure.

And now, you're on your way to talk with a spacer who claims Helios has been shipping military grade robots out to the Jupiter system. You're still not sure what to make of any of this.

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Ok here's how this work, you take the map, after the person above you is done, edit it in some way by adding a nation.

Add that nations
Nation Name:
Religions:
Languages:
Brief history:

I'll start

Nation Name: Kingdom of Normandy
Religions: Norse, Catholicism
Languages: Norman, Norwegian, French, Anglo-Saxon
Brief history: Founded after the King of France failed to pay his Norse Mercenaries, they revolted against the king and founded their own state. The Vikings are accepting as long as the minority doesn't grow too fast or fails to pay their taxes.

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I was exiled from my village, the outside world is a place full of the unknown. I'm on a journey to find another place I can live safely.

Last thread : http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/119312/

"I don't have time to read an entire thread."
No worries! Here's a handy recap for you!

http://imgur.com/a/afB0f

>Inquire your new friend as to how you would get such a replacement, CALMLY.

I manage to calm down, accept that there was no other way, and begin my questioning.

"Do you know of any way I can get a replacement?"

Rod starts scratching his chin.

"Hmm... There are a few ways...
There are rumors of a lake somewhere able to regrow flesh, that's actually what I'm looking for, since I need a new body for our good pal Travis.
I still don't know if those rumors are true... There is however another possibility, I know a place with cute little butterfly creatures who are able to cure any wound, for a price. That wouldn't help Travis, but I'm sure you'd be able to get a limb or two."

>I want to find the lake.
>I want to find the butterfly creatures.
>Eh, I can live without an arm, I'll keep going like this.
>A price...?

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In the late seventies through the early nineties, drug violence in South America only continued to escalate. A successful revolution by the IRA in Ireland encouraged similar revolts in central Africa that devolved into decades-long civil wars, and a USSR faction in the Russian government. Human trafficking for both the organ and the sex trades exploded between south-east Asia and eastern Europe. In the face of such chaos, government run militaries and agencies were too caught up in red tape to be effective in combatting these threats. Traditional armies abdicated their throne as international super-powers, and turned it over to the world of private military contractors.

Thirty years later, the private military industry is a widely accepted fact of life, a necessary evil for the security of the world. While many people in the civilized world resent these men for what they represent, they are also aware that they need them, lest the world fall into the hellscape that it was once again.

You are Jan Kowalski, a Polish special forces operator turned private military contractor. In return for cash and other liquid currency, you, and men like you go places national militaries can’t, and that local police forces won’t.

IMPORTANT INFO:
Twitter, for updates, details, and cancellations: https://twitter.com/ContractorQM
Last Thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/142271
Archive for all threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Contractor+quest
Stat Sheet: http://pastebin.com/84MTDvaB
Quest Info: http://pastebin.com/eQ2EDWhB

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The deep thwack of trebuchets sounds almost beautiful, like a quartet of death lutes. You hold your weapon close as soldiers mill about the smoking castle square. Flaming boudlers arc through the sky, like comets, constant and never ending.

You remember when you were drafted into this war. Your father was solemnly proud of his young boy going off to war. Your mother held back her tears as she hugged you for the last time. The trip to the army grounds was brutal, the cart ill equipped to carry thirty men over rocky and twisting roads. Twice a horse was spooked and dove off of a cliff, taking it's occupants with it. But as soon as you arrived, you felt something. The fluttering of thick cloth banners and the constant clamor of soldiers and servants felt natural. You were directed to a gruff looking man on a stoll behind a felled tree.

>"Oi you shite, what regiment are you enlisting in?"

A good question, and an important one. The Kings Army was huge, but five regiments stood out to you:

>The Royal Swords, a band elite footmen, armed with the best swords and shields in the kingdom.
>The Royal Fingers, a unit of tightly knit halberdiers, with insane courage, it would seem.
>The Winged Riders, a cavalry unit seated on thick warhorses with lances the size of tree limbs.
>The Veiled Shadows, incredibly agile swordsman, using dual curved swords to slash through opponents like butter
>The Hawks, fantastic archers, both crossbow and regular woodbows. Eyes as sharp as a hawks, of course, able to shoot a commanders throat from hundreds of feet away.

>"You haven't got all day! I 'ave a quota!" The burly man slams his fists on the fallen tree.

Well you have to make a choice, what is it?