Archived threads in /qst/ - Quests - 99. page

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Bump. Bump.. Bump... Bump

Her heart had stopped.
The flames around you slowly start dying out as her body goes limp and lifeless.
Drawing your finger free of her chest her body evaporates into pure reishi and only a broken blade remains.

Clang.
It hits the ground.
You look down at the weapon and see a hole right in the middle of its fuller.

Once the raging inferno dies out the place gets surprisingly quiet with only the cracking of the embers and the moans of the still living making any sound.
Looking around you see that quite a few of the badly burnt shinigami are still holding onto dear life, but not nearly all of them.
Letting out a sigh you walk right to the middle of the molten arena and point forward.

''Respira.''

The fog surrounding you begins to spread outward in a ring.
As it slowly creeps to the shinigami they try squirming a bit, even though their eyes have been reduced to a boiled and burnt mess.
No doubt they can still sense the approaching mass of spiritual energy and it terrifies them.
But try as they might their body is in no condition to run away and the fog envelops them.

They do not scream however.
Nor do they make any sound.
You can fell them, they are trying to hold their breath.
But you can not afford to idle for too long. Many of them are weak, barely any force left.

Once the deed is done you close your fist and the mist obeys your command.
Slowly but surely it crawls back to you and forms into a cape behind your back.
And thanks to your vision not being obstructed any longer you see the shinigami attempting to get back on their feet.

''Ugh... w-what happened?''
One of them asks in confusion.
''H-HUH?!''
He begins to rub his eyes as he realizes that his sight has returned.
Once all of them recovered from the initial shock they all look at you in confusion.

''Y-You! Who the HECK are you?!''
They demand answers, more confused than angry.
''A-are you a Zanpakuto?!''

''If I were... wouldn't I be attacking you now?''

''O-oh...''

*sigh*
''Call me Kaizar.
But you may know me as the Fear Eater.
And I am the one that restored your bodies... no need to thank me or anything.''

''H-how about them?''
One shinigami points at a corpse next to herself.

''They were already dead...
You are the only ones lucky or tenacious enough to survive for so long.''

''S-still! Couldn't you at least restore their bodies?''

You look at her and try to suppress your annoyance.
''A corpse is a corpse... It doesn't matter how it looks if it gets buried anyway.
And don't try to argue that they have any value because you know just as well as I do that reincarnation IS a thing.''

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You are a rather capable pilot, hired by the Eaglewatch PMC for your services. The reasons why you signed that contract, and who you are are yet to be decided. That, is up to you. Without further ado...

~~~

The gentle whine of a helicopter turbine rouses you awake, your eyes blinking twice before rubbing them with a gloved hand. You stretch your back out before leaning forward and tapping one of the pilots' shoulders.

"How much longer?"

The pilot nods, his helmet bobbing.

"'Bout three mikes."

You sit back down in your seat, looking out the window at the ongoing desert. An airfield slowly crawls into view, several jets of all kinds taking off and landing from the singular runway.

~~~

"Thank you for flying with Black Talon Airlines, we hope to see you again!"

Says the pilot, waving as he takes back off.A man wearing a trenchcoat slowly approaches you, offering you a handshake.

"Well, mercenary, welcome to Airfield 24. Mind telling me your name?"

>Bodhi (American)
>Ivan (Russian)
>Hanz (German)
>Write in (Other)

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You are Ingmar The Watchful, you are a man-at-arms within your lord's retinue.

You are currently a part of the garrison within the city of Bevereik.

At the moment you are on patrol around the southern area of the city.

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You can't see, hear, smell, or feel anything, but, you are alive. After some undeterminable amount of time spent in this nothingness, your eyes open, and you see a thin, wirey little man standing in front of you, with the same darkness from the nothingness behind him. His hands cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. He smiles when you try to turn your head, and hurriedly carves a mouth into your face with a tool that you can't see. "Say something. Whatever you want. Say it."

>Say nothing.
>Ask the man who he is.
>Ask the man who you are.
>Ask the man where you are.

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This is a thread created for the discussion of Quest threads.

Please do not shitpost, and please report any shit posters attempting to derail discussion or cause strife.

Useful links: http://pastebin.com/u5xPbk6w (embed)
This link contains numerous writing guides, general advice, and various quest tools and communities.

https://twitter.com/Eisenstern/lists/quest-runner-directory/
https://twitter.com/tgquestlist/lists/quest-master-directory
These are two directories containing the tweets of many current QM's. While a twitter is by no means mandatory, it is a useful tool for both you and your players. To get added to the second list, tweet @tgQuestList. Spamming tweets unrelated to your quest may result in its removal.

IRC Channels:
[The Cabal] #QMC @ Rizon.net (slightly related to quests; enjoys worldbuilding, mechanics, and politics)
[Hugbox] #ques/tg/enerals @ Rizon.net (barely related to quests; enjoys Larro quests and anime)

Discord server (Can provide feedback to new QM's, but shitposting is a bannable offense) https://discord.gg/pXfcXZJ

http://qst.wikia.com
This wiki gives brief summations of quests and QMs as well as quest culture in general. Additions are encouraged.

Archive of quest reviews (if you find a review that is not on the list, please link it in the thread):
http://pastebin.com/u/QuestReviewsArchive

>QM Question
What's an interesting mechanic you would like to implement in your quest?

>Player Question
What are some interesting mechanics you've seen in quests?

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You sit upon your horse, riding through the sweltering desert. The horse limps and limps as it struggles forward, barely able to sustain your weight. You kick it in the ribs, and it stumbles forward, neighing and coughing, but refuses to pick up speed. You kick it again, and feel something crack. The horse screams out, and collapses underneath you. You grunt, climbing away from it. It flails, screaming and thrashing sand everywhere. It is dying.

You take your gear from it's back and leave the weak creature to die in the sun. Weakness deserves pain and suffering.

As you walk, you ponder your current situation. The name the cityfolk of Garfa shouted out as they drove you away still rings in your ears.

>Male barbarian name
>Reason for exile

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This here is a thread for all Star vs The Forces of Evil Faggots

SESSION START!

>You are Anon
>14 years young
>Proud owner of his own Zombie/Crocodile girl
>You sick fuck
>You're in a MAGIC SWAMP
>Here to kill gigantic monster known as the The Swamp Drake
>To get it's scales
>To make some armor
>To get you one step closer to rescuing your mentor
>Luna...
>It hurts to try and remember her voice
>It's absence still makes your guts wrench when you think about it too long
>You've been dropping bodies to get stronger
>Monsters
>Sentient Monsters
>Even beat up your old best friend in a Karate Grudge Match
>You've just rested up and fleshcrafted your most loyal (and longest lived) minion ZOMBINA into a flesh beast
>She thicc
>Which is a fact you desperately try not to agonize over
>Muscles, your ass-crazed demon right arm thirsts for booty
>He doesn't seem to care what shape, gender or state of living that booty is in
>You're sweating from more than the humidity
>A: "I should really get you some better clothes."
>Z: "Wan dress!"
>A: "Susan, we fight too much for that."
>Z: "Wan Preeeeedy dressh!"
>Damnit
>There was an explosion to your east right after you emerged from your cave shelter
>Green smoke and fire are rising in the distance
>You saw some other places to investigate as well when you flew overhead


CHOOSE

>EAST
There's glittering green fire and smoke over there. You saw the Swamp Drake belch some when you first encountered it.

>WEST
There's a huge dead tree over that way surrounded in a lake of clean water.

>NORTH

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>>1528217
You pay the man 55 golden coins. He raises his eyebrow and gives you a Iron buckler.
>Iron Buckler - When used to defend from attacks provides a 10% damage reduction

>>1528236
>"Seeing as it's not too long until dawn now would be a good time to begin."
He leads you out to one of the gates that exits the city. You see a couple of wagons anda few other guards. It looks like they are all ready to go if you are.

>>1528354
Thomas opens up the magical book. The ink moves across the pages turning into a map of the city and a bit beyond it. There seem to be a few dots nearby highlighting potential dungeons and they seem to only be a few hours away if you're looking at things right.

>>1528405
The maids you approach take you to a nearby room. It has some sort of fixture in the ceiling that keeps the room lit as well as a single bed and other necessary furnishings.

>>1529293
Egar takes a walk around the city getting a bearings on the locations in there.

>>1529319
Providence begins her apprenticeship
(1/10)

>>1530218
The guards grab you on your shoulder and look at each other. In a short time you find yourself in a jail cell alone. Huh. Seems like your excuse wasn't bought.

>>1531008
Tayo begins her apprentice ship as well.
(1/5)

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It is 9:43 AM. Abigail "Gale" Bahamette (12) and her accomplice Vivian Synne (12) are running from a murder scene. They are not sure if they're still being pursued but they won't take any chances. They will need to find someplace to lay low until things settle. Gale cannot risk a legal inquiry it would most certainly lead to the dissolvement of her fledgling criminal empire and her painful death.

Gale's Stats
Health:100%
Str:3
Endurance:5
Agility:4
Perception:5
Intelligence:9
Charisma 5

Vivian's Stats
Gale's Stats
Health:100%
Str:4
Endurance:6
Agility:4
Perception:7
Intelligence:6
Charisma 6

Quest1:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1376174/

Quest2:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1411449/

Quest3:http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1440598/
[Spoiler]Thanks to the guy who posted the links for the archives really helped me[/spoiler]

Supplementary Tumblr
https://sahcrowsevillair.tumblr.com/

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Hi, my name is Jim.

I live in a world with white skies, white ground, and white people.

I just started existing a minute ago, so I don't know what to do.

Any suggestions?

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Your name used to be Jemm. Jemm the Swift you were called among the children of Fell Oak as you would play on the streets. You were good with knives from the start, fast and nimble, but you did not kill your first enemy since you were 20. You always liked adventurers. They were brash, bold and they had gold. They rode armored horses, they had gem-encrusted armors and once you even saw one ride a wyvern. Beast was talk of the town.

Eventually you grew up, your father dying of gray leaf by age of 7 and mother being gone some day with her final words “I’ll just get some leaf from Whitecomb”. Hatred of leaf-addicts came natural to you for the rest of your life.
You became a caravan guard, then have met Gordo the Troll. Big guy, tough, a giant. And you started adventuring. You were joined by Dugo the swordsman and Kay the Kissing, woman as beautifal as her necromantic powers were deadly. Last to join was Quintun. He could make things dissapear.

And it was bandits and goblins and orcs and gnolls first, then ogres and trolls (Gordo didnt mind killing his kin one bit) and then first small dragons. Word got around. Towns and small lords would hire you, for beasts and cultists and daul sorcerers to be found and killed. You grew in power. You grew in wealth. And yet, every time there would be a stop in a tavern, when Kay would be kissing a handsome local man, when Dugo and Quintun would be seducing the maids and whores (often both), you would join in this too always to remain empty, always to have wine and company turn to ash in your mouth. Eventually you just stopped and got the name Jemm the Gray. Hatred for this name was dark and deep.

From there on it was destroying proper giants, dragon-sorcerers, venturing into hells and killing some demons and finally medusa queen. That was when Quintun left. He said he had bought a large homestead in Yarrin ridges. He also said he had a nice company. After you killed Beholder of Gorsmey, Kay said she got a really good offer. Aas usually, she did not tell much. Could be a husband and two kids or being a leader of assassin guild. Probably both. Soon after, Dugo said he is tired. Worn outh. That he is putting this whole thing “on hold for a bit”. One day Gordo was gone. And truth was, you were worn out too. Constant battles, death, resurrections, wealth beyond measure, danger and suffering … it did get to you. You bought a small mansion outside a small town. You could buy all the whores in it or all the non-whores, you could drink all the vine and eat all the gray leaf and you know, you would still be empty. And death – emptiness does not end in death, you know that after all ressurections.

Adventurer of great skill and great wealth, you are now alone. What do you do?

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So I have the start for a quest that I will never run because I have no creativity whatsoever:
>You are Executioner Smough, Royal Executioner of Anor Londo
>You have remained in Anor Londo, despite your many deaths (time is convoluted after all) at the hands of the Chosen Undead, out of a sense of duty and other ideals taught by your brother-in-arms and mentor Ornstein
>You wonder where he is sometimes
>Eventually, you decide to something about it
>You leave the Chambers of the Sun Princess and...
The progression from here would be a fight with Aldrich here, then Smough's travels to Archdragon Peak, him finding Ornstein's armor but not his body, and Smough using time manipulation or whatever to search for Ornstein w/ crossovers and fighting. I'll leave this out here for the picking. Good luck!

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Previously, on Adams and Eve...

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"So tell us, how did you survive?" Mr. Bennet seems interested, picking up a coffee pot from a nearby table and pouring it out into a black mug with the phrase 'coffee.sh' emblazoned on the side in green. "I was in bed when I got the alarm signal that Durandal had been incapacitated- and when I got in here, he was back online and you were alive. I set up the system to do a full scan, but it says Hook vanished."

Taking a sip, he puts down his mug, and Keith asks him, "What is this place? What do you do here? Where did the door come from?"
Sofia releases you from her grip and steps back a bit abashedly.

"One set of questions at a time," Durandal heaves himself away from you and limps to a table not unlike an operating table. He tosses himself onto it and lies on his back, gripping his side to cover it up.

"I guess I'll answer yours, then." Mr. Bennet displays the room, which is a totally white interior, like a laboratory mixed with a workshop. The chair he was sitting in before is connected to a helmet and interface similar to the ones you've seen at conventions for virtual reality, except that he sits back in it like a driver's seat or dentist's chair. In addition to the coffeepot, and the table, there's a workbench for technology, a computer in one corner running a browser you've never seen, and one of the walls is covered with television screens surveying the school. There are two closed doors in the back.

"This is Avalon, a 'safehouse' from the situation you saw earlier. Normally, we don't have people appearing in the Witching Hour, especially not students, but it was decided we needed a safeguard in case something like what happened to you happened. Here, those monsters you saw outside can't enter." He puts the coffee cup down, and then says, "As for the door, I made that. As you might expect, this place isn't like ordinary reality."

The sunglasses-wearing computer teacher asks you, "So how about it? How did you survive?"

>>How did you survive?
>I transformed, just like Durandal does.
>I made a deal with the devil.
>What's the Witching Hour?
>I gave off 'readings'?
>(Write-In)

OOC: That took too long to write, geez, sorry

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You are Captain Carrina Marseille-O'Hara, and you're not a cop.

What you are is something far deadlier to cross than a cop, but nobody you're going to be talking to today needs to know that. At least, not immediately. All they really need to know is that you're not with the Luna Police Force, which for someone whose day to day activities are of dubious legality at best places you in an unusual category. It would be pretty hard to guess what your “game” is, what you're aiming to accomplish by delving into this shadowy world and how you intend to get it. You're clearly not just in it to arrest people, but at the same time assuming this makes you “safe” would be a huge mistake.

If you're going to get to the bottom of this feud between the Strategic Naval Research Institute and Anaheim Electronics, and in doing so tease out more about the web of interrelated terrorist cells operating all across the Sol system, you'll need to play on that unusual status. Of being seen as simultaneously less dangerous and more unpredictable than the police.

Pulling up to the address Artesia Som Deikun gave you, it doesn't immediately strike you as a place where nefarious things are likely to be happening: which makes it all the more suspicious. The apartment complex is made from the same sort of concrete structure as most of the lowrise buildings in the Lunar cities, albeit mixed to a slightly different color and combined with thin slabs of cut stone around the doors and windows to give the building something of a Georgian feel. The little allotments between the sidewalk and the outer walls have a variety of gardens and shrubs, some helping to block line of sight and others more dedicated to growing culinary herbs. The door you're looking for is red, with a brass number 9 nailed to the center just above the peephole. As it happens, the door has been left slightly ajar.

“Well then,” you muse, killing the ignition of your borrowed car. “It'd be rude not to accept such an invitation.”

You quickly examine your gear: mostly “plain clothes”, with a lightweight Type IIIA plate carrier under your black leather jacket and kneepads worn over your jeans. Just enough to fool people at a glance, from a distance or from the next car over, into thinking nothing is going on while being sufficient to stop a .44 Magnum... at least the first shot, that is.
>1/2