Archived threads in /qst/ - Quests - 605. page

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Twitter: https://twitter.com/bookerman32
Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Dark%20Gate%20Academy
Quest Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_2Nj8OxYLTw

Far off, nestled in an otherwise small Japanese town lies the Dark Gate Academy. An institution of tremendous size, the Academy holds a long kept secret. Unknown to the outside world, this unseemly town is home to a tear in our reality. A gate between our world and a bizarre dimension known as the Darkworld. The inhabitants of this hellish world breach this gate and attempt to flood into our reality and spread throughout the world on a regular basis. However, the Dark Gate Academy is home to students of truly extraordinary abilities. The ability to sense the presence of these evil Darkword creatures, and defeat them in combat, sending them back through the gate.

They cannot close the rift between our world and the Darkworld, but the students and staff of Dark Gate Academy have dedicated their lives to using their amazing powers to hold back the darkness that plagues our world, even if it costs them their lives. They have risen up to the challenge and in secret have become great heroic defenders of the world as we know it.

You... are not one of them. You are a transfer student. There was a bit of a mix-up.

>Previously on Dark Gate Academy...
The school held elections for class president, which Kosuke won. A trip to the Darkworld saw you saving the life of a classmate.

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You whistle as you hoist the chained Twi’lek up by his boots. Nothing like a good day at work and getting to break a couple tailheads. He whimpers, his mouth gagged and tied up by a rag and a sock you stuffed in there. Even in the darkness of this little interrogation room aboard the ship, you could see the fearful glint in his eyes, dashing around in his skull trying to look for a way out of this mess.

Right, now he’s good and hanging. You pull up your communicator on your wrist. “Lonnie,” you call. The tailhead looks at you, screaming through his gag, trying to beg you to let him go. “You there?”

“Yeah, Nix.” Lonnie, the egghead that he is, confirmed that this was the guy you needed to look for. He apparently sold some supplies to a band of deserters. Normally, this wouldn’t be too much of an issue for the Empire. Deserters happen no matter what, you catch them and you blast them, done deal. But this group of deserters were a small band of Stormtroopers who had stolen a very important prototype, a Tracked Mobile Base.

You weren’t given more details other than to make sure the TMB didn’t fall into Rebel hands. Honestly, you’re not sure what the use of a mobile command base is to the Rebels anyway. It’s not like they’re going to invade planets. “Lonnie, just so you know, if this is the wrong guy, I’m blaming you.”

“I- uh… I assure you, ma’am. He’s the right guy. I helped you go through all those files, cross referenced everything, helped you track down the droids!” All from the comfort of the ship you remember. “He- he’s the right guy, just uh… just don’t make it too messy in there, alright? I- I’m still trying to clean the blood out from last time.”

The tailhead’s eyes widen when he hears that, and he desperately struggles to get his ropes off and escape from you. You sigh, rolling your eyes. You come down to a kneel, then pull out the saliva soaked rags. With a loud splotch, he flinches as he coughs and spits to clear his tongue. “Y- you- I don’t know anything! I swear!”

“Of course you don’t, you’re a Twi’lek. No, what I really need from you now is a location.” He shakes his head, tears of fear streaming onto his forehead. “It’s simple, gimme a location, and I won’t make this painful. Don’t, and I will make this as painful as possible.”

“You’re crazy!” he shouts.

“Is honesty that crazy?” you ask. You stand up and gently kick him. He rocks back and forth, hanging from the ceiling upside down and bound up. No way he’s getting free. Even if he did get free, you did smash out his knee caps so he can’t manage much faster than a fast limp. “Now, are you going to talk?” He shakes his head, groaning in pain and misery. Pathetic.

Still though. You have all the time in the world, they don’t. Those deserters probably don’t even know that they’re in danger.

So you got time to choose.

> Drown him
> Use the Force
> Burn him
> Other

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You awake to an obnoxious, loud buzzing noise in your room. After a few seconds of adjusting to the situation, you realize it's your dumb alarm clock reminding you that you have to attend that thing called "school". You rarely show up though, so you really don't know why that stupid alarm is still set up. How dare it wake you, the most badass motherfucker around, the great...uhh....

You seem to be too groggy to even remember your name right now, what was it again?

Going by highest post number within the next two or three minutes I suppose. If there's matching numbers, I'll try to accomplish both unless it's for something like names or such.

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It was on the fifteenth of December, in the year 2010, that the world changed. There was no particular reason for it, or at least none that can be proven, but nobody could deny that it had happened. Simply put, the old observable rules of reality had ceased to apply to certain individuals.

Physics, thermodynamics, any and all of the most basic laws of nature were twisted and violated around these rare, otherwise unconnected people. Lacking any other applicable terminology, the majority of the western world used a word made famous by comic books: ‘superpowers’.

In the wake of this unsettling event, those effected often attempted to emulate or become archetypical ’superheroes’, ignoring the law in favor of pursuing their own morality. As can be expected, chaos ensued. Grand wars were fought between as few as two powered people, with hundreds or even thousands of innocent casualties resulting. Cities, being the most populated areas, became common battlegrounds for these impossible people.

The world, as it had been, was slowly torn apart. Those with the most potent powers now exist as short-lived warlords, ruling and dominating whatever they choose until they are killed by another. Powerless civilians run or hide, their lives dangerously fragile in the face of the endless conflicts. Governments and militaries struggle to maintain the peace, or even just to stay relevant, by employing their own superpowered agents in what has become a constantly escalating arms race.

Such is the state of the world.

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You are a member of the Varric Association of Magic Users. You have been tasked with hunting down and bringing to justice an ex-member who has left the association after stealing a number of magical documents and artifacts.

You have tracked him to this secluded forest wherein he has erected a 300 ft tower. From the looks of it he is trying to summon a major spirit on the top of the tower. You should stop that before it happens. Another member has gone in before you and has not returned for some time. It seems she has blasted a hole in the wall giving you an entrance.

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Rules of this quest is pretty simple, first post ending in 5 names the guy, dubs decides his ULTIMATE GOAL. All following posts ending in five will then dictate what the guy does. You have 5 moves after goal is decided to complete said goal. Good luck.

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Rolled 3, 3 = 6 (2d6)

Last OP died. Name, Color, Starting place. use 2d6 to roll.

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Previously, you did your best to help fight off the Quedeshi invasion before undertaking a series of questionable but effective decisions.

Previous Threads on /tg/: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Snakecatcher%20Quest
Previous Threads on /qst/: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Snakecatcher%20Quest
Twitter: https://twitter.com/OuroQM
Party: http://pastebin.com/hcK81hKL
Inventory: http://pastebin.com/kpSHTiZi
Pastebin Directory: http://pastebin.com/yYATEBvy
Thing Where You Ask Questions: http://ask.fm/OuroQM

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This is Zylphe Renuis. He has crash landed on Terra Firma *Our world* after his ship broke in space and fell into orbit while chasing down a parasitic lifeform meteor. which is the bane of his species.
Upon landing on Terra Firma, he is knocked out. A group of humans came to see the crash site. What would you do to this alien lifeform?
Rules
*You cannot kill him. You cannot have him kill an uninfected human unless plagued by the parasite he is bound to defeat.
Multiple posts are welcomed.
*Priority missions is to repair his ship or to build a new ship to leave Earth. He cannot stay over a month or else his Plasma will wear out due to the enviroment being unsuitable to Zylphe.

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Your name is Verynthor Sollint and you are a kabalite in service to Archon Trinost Akolemm of the Kabal of Shattered Masks. You hate him with an unbridled passion and few things would please you more than to watch him choke and sputter on his own bile as you twist a blade into his chest.

You are merely one of many Kabalite warriors that are passing their time between raids into realspace. Currently, you are lounging with two of your squadmates in the hangar claimed by the Shattered Mask, such as it is. Considering you only have a pair of Raiders and Trinost is too busy fornicating with courtesans and shooting up on stimulants to put forth resources for maintaining his troops' equipment, the place is decrepit. The skimmers themselves are carefully maintained and brightly coated in the contrasting navy and silver that your Kabal colors itself with, but that is merely because of their crews trying to make up for their Archon's stinginess. As such, the hangar is a dusty, dilapidated mess of strewn crates and tools that probably hadn't been clean since before you were born.

This isn't how a Kabal should be run. An Archon should take pride in his possessions and his troops, even if he doesn't trust them.

"You taking a hit or not?" Jekkyt asks, breaking your train of thought.

He's holding out a ceramic smoking pipe, packed with Obscura as he and Ortaem look at you. The three of you are crammed into a corner of the dimly-lit hangar, the empty crates and sickly-sweet fragrance of the smoke your only other companions. As much as you hate to admit it, loitering in the hangar and partaking in cheap narcotics is about all you have to do in your spare time.

Jekkyt and Ortaem are the closest things you have to 'friends', which is to say if you had to kill the rest of your Kabal to further your schemes, you'd deal with them last and perhaps feel a tiny shred of remorse. You all joined the Kabal at roughly the same time and a sort of solidarity formed as you all endured the abuses of the trueborn and their loathsome cunt of a dracon. Granted, almost everyone in the Kabal hates the trueborn so that isn't saying much, but over the years you've found that the three of you hated each other less than the rest of your squadmates.

Ortaem, probably bored waiting for your response, seems to have lost interest in the exchange and now peaking her head over your fortress of crates to see if anyone has entered the hangar, perhaps out of fear that your sybarite might appear out of nowhere and force you all to do something productive. Jekkyt continues to look at you with his blood-shot eyes through his greasy black hair.

"Well?" He prompts you.

>Take a hit, just a little
>Inhale deeply, really take it in
>Refuse, pass the pipe along
>Write-in

Also,
How did you join the Shattered Mask?

>Former Hellion, 'promoted' to Kabalite
>Member of a smaller Kabal that was absorbed by the Shattered Mask
>Belonged to a Wych Cult and jumped at the chance of upward mobility

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You are one of the denizens of 2-dimensional flatland. You were visited in the night by the Sphere, who pulled you upwards, yet not northwards, taught you about the third dimension, showed you the insides of spaces, homes, and bodies, transmitted visions of line land and point land, yadda yadda yadda you know the drill, happens every millennium.
There is one question immidiately present.
Who are you? Roll a d10 to chose race.

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Welcome to 1d4 Quest! The rules here are simple:
1. Want to do something? Roll 1d4 - 4 = Spectacular success (Thing happens + Good Bonus) 3 = Success (Thing happens) 2 = Failure (Thing doesn't happen) 1 = Failure (Thing doesn't happen + Bad Bonus)
2. Posts ending in 4, 7, and 0 will be taken
3. Nothing super lewd
4. If something were to fail and trying it again would make poor logical sense, it cannot happen again (for example, trying and failing to climb a rock face)

Let's begin, shall we? You have awoken on some hilly plains. Ahead of you lies a large forest, to your left you can see a river flowing out of the forest, and to your right you spy mountains far off in the distance.

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Donovon Gilbert has just woken up and is currently in nothing more than his undergarments. His brown eyes, which an indeterminate time before had been rolled back in ecstasy due to his illicit engagement with a 50 credit Twi'lek whore, now gleam with a barely contained rage as they dart around his unfamiliar surroundings. He is sitting upright in a chair sitting in the middle of an unadorned, harshly lit room with bluegrey durasteel walls. As he attempts to move his arms to get up, he is held in place by durasteel bars that extend horizontally across his torso, abdomen, and legs.

The chill of the metal chair and the air of the sterile room send his muscles into a bout violent shivering with the intensity to make his teeth clatter against each other. The rage in his eyes solidifies as he whips his head around the room, calling out, "I s-s-swear by the Emperor, if it's you again and th-this is another of your idiotic p-pranks Gerald, I will drown you in lava if you d-d-don't get me out of here this moment."

His gruff, raspy statement barely echoes in the enclosed space. Almost as if in response, the hum of the lights overtakes the last echoes of Donovon's words.

The broad shouldered nobleman, still reeling from the shock of the new surroundings and what he assume is the ale still flowing through his system, presses on, "Gerald, I'm n-not joking. I don't care if you're my father's servant, I will get you kicked off the planet and sent past the outerrim."

The humming again fills the room.

"G-G-Gerald!" Donovon's throat, while nearly completely dry and interrupted by shivers, produces a surprisingly deep boom as he yells.

"I will n-not be treated in such an undignified manner!" He slams his fist into the arm of his chair - the impact reverberates through the rest of the chair as Donovan continues to shake and shiver. "You have n-no right to act like a scummy p-p-pirate," He pauses as realization dawns on his ruddy features.

"Wait, you're pirates aren't you? Kidnapping nobles from their bedchambers, eh?" His shaky voice solidifies as he gains confidence. "You've made yourselves a mistake, you damned fools! Don't you know who my father is? Governor Henry Gilbert! He'll show you a rough Jabiimi welcome if you don't take me back right now!"

He whips his head back in laughter. "I've heard of you lot, but I never thought any self-respecting pirate would be so suicidal to kidnap the son of the man with the most powerful fleet in this sector! When my Dad finds out, the combined forces of the Jabiimi fleet will blow you to shreds!"

And so Donovon continues, taunting what he determined were his pirate kidnappers, accusing them of being nothing more than "filth flying two bit hunks of junk" and "honorless animals with nothing better to do than prey off of innocent Imperial folk." Along with the snide insults to the pirates' intelligence and likelihood to survive in space, Donovon's regular arrogant and uncouth demeanor reestablishes itself.

> [Cont.]

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It's another Risk thread!

Rules are in the picture.

Clarifications:
Water doesn't have Regions, you only need to take the oil rig to get the oil.
Your starting Region needs a City in it.

Houserules:
You can Build a new City for 25 production
You can add a permanent HP to a city (+3 max) for 10 production
You take double the territory and don't need golden rolls to enter regions if you completely encircle an area and it doesn't have a city. You can encircle multiple regions in this way at once.
A player that doesn't declare war a turn before attacking loses half his oil bonus (minimum of 1 even if you have no oil) until peace is restored due to sanctioning.
>No extra turn on a 0