Archived threads in /qst/ - Quests - 13. page
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The President picks up the phone on his desk and dials the Hardbody Agency for Professional Asskickers. "Please help, I am being kidnapped by NEFARIOUS FORCES," was all he managed to say before the nefarious Skull Gang's agents kidnap him.Hearing the dial tone, The Chief puts down his phone, before looking at the dossiers on his agents scattered on his desk. Who will be the baddest agent to rescue the President?
>D02 QUEST! Rules are in image.
>Make a character sheet or vote for someone else's, I don't care how shit it is. Most popular is the protagonist.
>Dice Rolling: It's all D02, all the time.
>>339347
A 1980s home computer on top of a T800 terminator.
>>339417
You are the Intense Bionic Murderer, a metal-hearted processing machine merging past and future technology into a powerhouse no one would dare mess with, with the exception of the nefarious Skull Gang. The problem is, the Skull Gang messed with the USA, and is now messing with you by stopping you from rescuing him from their heavily guarded mountain fortress. Somewhere past the moat of crocodiles, thick walls, gun emplacements, experimental weaponry, and gang members in unflattering full body suits lies the President, newly elected to his second term in office. You're currently standing on a nearby ridge, looking over the main entrance to the compound. A supply convoy is coming up the road, but the longer you remain up here, the more likely you are to be spotted by guards. How do you approach this situation?
>Because no one wrote a character sheet, I drew one up for you. Feel free to write stuff on it if it makes you feel better.
>>339535
GOTO SUPPLYCONVOY.
By which I mean, move along the ridge and climb down behind the convoy.
Welcome to WILD WEST QUEST.
First, a few rules.
There are THREE vital resources you need to keep track of. WATER, FOOD, and AMMO. You start off with 10 of each. They can be obtained through scavenging or crafting (with the exception of water, which has to be harvested/scavenged).
An option will be chosen after at least three people have replied, and there is no tie. The most popular option will be chosen.
Ready?
Your name is HANK. You are a lone cowboy in the wild west. Your goal is to conquer this vast, unexplored territory.
What will you do?
>Explore
>Hunt in the vicinity
>Write in
>>336451
>Explore
>>336451
>Explore northwest
>>336451
Explore.
Previous Thread: http://boards.4chan.org/qst/thread/320847/
Summary: Last thread our "hero" gained control of a small amount of populace in an attempt to become the widely worshipped demon lord he dreamed of being.
The "hero: himself: A long time ago he was ejected from one the imp mother's quivering orifices a tiny shivering glob of flesh. He is a pure imp with no imperfections (unless you count the pompadour he's been sporting as of recent). His abilities are a natural dexterity and speed, high resistance to heat and ballistic impact, and a nice pair of wings to glide with. Today you (now known as Mazzaranche) stand atop two corpses and feed upon the flesh of your fellow imp, staring out at your 21 followers. The rest of the village you failed to persuade is running in fear that you may riddle them with assault rifle fire.
>many of your followers ask if they should do something about the fleeing populace.
>>335138
Capture as much of the fleeing populace as possible
>>335151
This, and shoot those who are about to get away.
>>335151
Seconded
So, in case your new to this quest, (I think this quest may be the longest running on /qst/, not sure to be honest.) then good luck. The archives are in the Character Sheet, so there you go.
Character Sheet: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jI0aGxA_2h3SAcPYri-1fdgskbK3IbtfEzSLJ7VY9gU/edit
Twitter: @QuestingQM
My other quest is Nazi Experiment Quest, which is sadly delayed due to me accidently deleting the lore.
You are Renexizious, and you are speaking to Lorriana, a gold dragon who either likes you, or dislikes you. You honestly can't tell.
"So. From what I gather, your talents lie in research?" you crook your head slightly.
"My word, you've understood what I said." She puts her hand over her mouth, feigning wonder.
"...I'm really fucking tired of your sarcasm." You slam your fist into a table, and cause it to break in half.
"Too bad, Ren. Too bad." She takes a sip of her wine, and looks back at you, amused.
"Don't fucking call me that, It's Renexizious to you. No one fucking calls me Ren." You are this close to strangling her. Too bad the voices in your head want you to appoint her as a minister of research or try to give her a rather good tumble.
"Too bad. It's quite popular around here."
"Son of a bit- Never mind. Now, here's what I want you to do."
Choices.
>Appoint her into the Imperial Research Director.
>Tell her to remain a courtier and stay out of trouble.
>Appoint her into the Defense Director.
>Write-In
>>333104
>Appoint her into the Imperial Research Director.
>>333104
>>Appoint her into the Imperial Research Director.
>>333104
>>Appoint her into the Imperial Research Director.
SCIENCE!
The Year is 2679, and it is a mess. An actual fucking mess. Hundreds of years of proxy wars and the rise of mega-corporations have birthed both horrific biological hazards, and the largest world war in Food history. Tens of millions of Foods have died in the conflict, and the concept of nations and countries by food producers have ceased to exist, territories are now divided by the Food Pyramid.
But this change wasn't perfect either. There were foods that didn't belong in the Pyramid, and those criticized and ridiculed by the other food groups for who and what they were. The former became the Candy Confederacy, the latter became dogs of war.
In your case, hotdogs of war.
Your name is Frank, and you and your mates are going to get paid tonight. One way or the other.
You sweep your eyes to your left and right, and see nothing but glorious, brave fucking hotdogs on either side of you in the trench all of you are sharing. Even Sav. Oh God yes Sav.
She notices your eyes on her and she winks at you before returning her gaze to the task at hand.
Holy shit, you think to yourself, she might actually take you up on that date if we both make it tonight.
Now properly incensed, you pull up your K3TCH rifle and make a final check on the spray setting and the standard-issue sights and find everything in tip-tip shape. Heinz made their weapons quality, a fact always appreciated by the dirty bastards using them at the front. You inspect your browned bun, properly heated for maximum protection, and find it also perfectly fine. Let none find us wanting this night, you muse.
Your eyes finally skip to Kiel, the battle-hardened sausage who leads this motley crew of mercenaries. He sometimes likes to go by il Condimentittiero, but nobody actually calls him that because he isn't an Italian sausage in the slightest. His eyes are locked onto his watch, and you know he is keeping time until the charge. You finally settle back down in your spot and stretch, you can't risk pulling anything once you cross that killing-field up ahead.
The enemy trench sits almost two-hundred meters away, surrounded by the wreckage of various types of Food containers and the rotting corpses of their former occupants. You'd heard the Coalition Food forces had been smashed yesterday, against those dreaded Candy Cannons that manned that trench and you must be looking at the remains of that force now.
(1/2)
>>330134
Suddenly, a whistle snaps you from your contemplation, and you see Kiel point at his watch to the other members of your squad and you know it's time to move. You can see a kind of fierce sadness in his eyes, the kind that have seen too many Foods die under his command to ever feel at peace again. "Don't worry about their guns, just keep moving and get over to that trench alright!" He goes to each soldier and shakes their hand, and when it comes to you, you give his hand a warm squeeze and he does the same. "Alright Meatsticks", he roars out loud, "Give 'em hell!"
>Get in the first wave (Most combat but most pay)
>Get in the middle wave (Medium combat and also medium pay)
>Get in the last wave (Least combat and least pay)
(2/2)
>>330143
>Get in the first wave (Most combat but most pay)
UUUUURAAAAHHHH!
>>330143
>>Get in the first wave (Most combat but most pay)
We're no vegetarian option. We're packing some serious meat.
1:41 AM on a Sunday before the dawn, when even the crickets were asleep and the air was soundless, Starman gazed out of his window at phosphorescence and distant starlight.
He couldn't sleep. This was one of many nights where sleep did not come. He sat on his bed and opened his window and the breeze would hit his cheek and his neck and he could feel the wetness of it against his sweat and know that there would be rain in the morning or in the afternoon. Rain in the next night.
Starman was going to die in 3 years. In exactly 3 years, to the date and to the minute, he would take his own life. Without ceremony, in great quiet, he would hang himself from the curtain bar with a rope made of old pajamas. The breeze would hit him, and there would be rain the next morning.
He did not know these things yet. Starman's phone buzzed. Starman's phone never buzzed. He had bought the cheapest phone plan available to him, a pre-paid plan. $20 lasted him 6 months. No one called him. Nobody texted him. He had some numbers in the phonebook. But these were a formality -- a kind of pretend. He used his phone only to read and to listen to music. He didn't take any pictures. He never called anyone. He never texted. His phone shouldn't be buzzing.
He grabbed his phone. Someone had texted him from an unknown number. Spam, most likely. But even spam was rare.
This is Starman. This is u. From the future. I'm dead. ur dead, or will be, in three years, on exactly this day, at exactly this time.
The spammers were getting creating creative. There's more. Starman scrolls down.
i can help u. i know everything that's going to happen to u for the next three years. i wrote it all down in a journal. u need to find that journal. it's buried in ur mom's garden, not hte one in the front, the one on thebackyard. It's near the fence, near the back. Two steps from the garage. u need to go now and get it. u have 5 minutes.
Starman sat still and re-read the message. It was sent at exactly 1:41AM. His neck hair prickled. Who sent this? How did they know about his mother's garden? Starman stood up. He carefully unlocked the door to his room and tiptoed through the kitchen. He went for a glass of water and filled it up. He didn't drink it, it was a pretense in case he was caught. He quietly put on his sandals and slipped out into the backyard. There was no breeze that day. The air was summer hot and without moisture.or wind. Starman stopped and looked at his phone. Was he really doing this? This was probably a prank of some kind. The phone clock showed 1:43. He sped to the back of the garden, put his back against the garage, walked two steps forward and started to dig at the ground below him. Within 30 seconds he found a black and white composition notebook. It was college-ruled and sealed in a large ziplock bag. Starman pulled the bag out and refilled the hole, then he pulled the notebook out and crumpled up the bag. It was too dark to read. He went back inside, being careful to avoid making any noise. He threw the bag in the trash, drank his water and then went back to his room and locked the door. He checked his phone again. 1:46. Exactly 5 minutes. There were no new messages. He stared at the notebook. It showed signs of wear, the corners were bent and the cover was cracked. He casually flipped through the book. It was too dark to read, but he could tell that the book was filled up, beginning to end. Suddenly the reality of the moment clashed with its impossibility and Starman
>Promptly put the notebook aside and went to sleep
>Turned on his desk lamp and studied the notebook
>>331962
>Studied the notebook, if nothing else it's a well executed hoax
>>331962
>Turned on his desk lamp and studied the notebook
Put a blanket on self and lamp with book underneath lamp. If not possible put blanket on door to make sure no light escapes.
Light flashes into his eyes as he rose.
He wakes up as if in a trance. The air felt unusually heavy, like it was enough to suffocate him. He knew something was wrong in this scene, and he exactly knows what it was.
He was supposed to be dead.
"Are you alright? You seem you had a bad dream." Hinata asks.
>>331949
How old is Hinata and lock all doors in this room.
>>331949
say menu to see if we're living in virtual reality which would explain our respawn
>>331949
Let's fuck
Post summaries of your favorite quests, why you think people should join them and when they can catch the next thread.
Does it count as a recommendation if I think people should join but the quest has a huge backlog that you need to read through first?
>>331996
If it's a good quest, it should be a nice read.
>>331996
That's why I made this thread, there are too many long-running quests whose playerbase dwindles because people are afraid to backread a quest they're not sure about.
We need a way to introduce people to long quests.
New civ quest.
Ground rules:
Roll 1d20 and make a suggestion. Roll determines how well it will go. Vote for which suggestion you think is best, highest number of votes wins. In case of tie, highest roll wins. Crits are enabled.
Now, get to voting.
Now, get to voting on
>>331118
Mountain Dwarves
Not!Confederate/Union 17th century tech trolls.
Hey /QST/ I need some help, there was a bomb ass quest made from a troll thread a while back called hood quest. Anyways the thing is I can't remember the characters names so if anyone from that thread remembers can you help out? I plan on writing out an idea for a story and qm'ing it but I've never done this before so it'll be a while.
Yeah I ran it for a bit before I had to go do something for a straight week. It was this though.
Blanka (Melee beast)
Chromehound (Gatslinger)
Green Steezy/somethin like that (IDK what he did but probably gatslinger too)
Jutsu (Ninja/magic man)
Blanka died and was turned into Zombie Blanka with another name
>>336124
The green guy was fast, I remember that much from the quest.
>>336124
Thanks man, I'm not sure if I wanna continue where it was left off or start something new because it was kind hectic with multiple qms but I know if I do start something new, I for sure I want to keep the bit about them getting revenge for the TV.
Previous: >>313265
Schedule (inconsistent, sorry): https://twitter.com/Scoundrel_OP
Inventory/CS: http://pastebin.com/cFJfscrHKaz... I'm already a Devaronian.
3950 BBY, shortly after the defeat of the Triumvirate...
You are Nas Rennow, a Devaronian bounty hunter with more bark than bite. You're all (devilish) smiles when druk hits the fan, but sometimes even a good attitude isn't enough to deflect beams to the head. The Force can do that, but you'd rather never deal with that perverted pseudo-spiritual monstrosity ever again.
Sure, the Force is dying or something, but you're too busy being a Nar Shaddaa hotshot to care. There are more important things in life, like stabilizing your financial situation and shooting people for a living. Maybe you'll even upgrade to an apartment on one of the upper levels of the city, if you're lucky.
You have a sneaking suspicion that your employers at the Exchange are beginning to see you as some kind of miracle-working errand boy, as their most recent assignment saw you hijacking a shuttle and tricking a Hutt Cartel crime lord into a kidnapping.
Soon you'll be visiting your new "friend", Gwan. He's not much to look at, and he certainly isn't endowed with the gift of the gab, but he may just be your ticket to bailing your friend Dalt Frey out of his overwhelming swoop debts.
Alternatively, you may be able to finish things up with the Exchange and get some payment for your troubles.
Current Agenda:
>Take a bath before meeting up with Gwan. Sure, you're late, but you'd rather not offend a Weequay with bad pheromones. {slight bonus to most dialogue options taken in person; more professional and presentable}
>Go to the meeting with Gwan.
- or -
>Head back to the Exchange lockup. They'll pull every card they can to get out of paying you for a job-well-done, but you're good at negotiating.
>Regardless of which choice you take, you'd like to get your toes fixed later on. You broke two of them only minutes ago in a daring escape from a rooftop blaster-fight. {very slight detriment to character's mobility in certain rolls}
Next post incoming. Don't reply to this one!
>>335644
The door to your flat is like a gateway into a world of bearable stench, and compared to the landfill (literally) you found yourself in only an hour ago, it's downright heavenly. Aren't you lucky to live just above a factory that recycles waste into construction materials?
You throw your arms out in a stretch and back against the wall. You slide down slowly and take in the pleasant atmosphere surrounding you. It feels good to be in a safe place after cheating death.
You unstrap your boots and head to the restroom, almost bumping into your friend Dalt. He seems preoccupied.
The once happy-go-lucky bigshot swoop racer has fallen quite a distance, but not in the way bikers usually fall. While not utterly depressed, he clearly has a few problems. Chief among them is regret, as evidenced by the scrapbook in his hands. You see a few pictures of yourself in there, as well as some unknown blonde human woman.
>"A scrapbook? You didn't tell me you were putting old pictures in here. Kark, I'd think you were trying to hit on me if I didn't know any better." you quip. Really, though, this kinda weirds you out.
Dalt looks taken aback when he sees you. "Oh, you're still alive. Are... are they gone? Are my debts gone? Please tell me I can leave this place. There are too many bad memories here." Dalt says with hysteria in his voice.
You shake your head and consider your options for a moment. The Exchange really do want you back as soon as possible, but would their money be enough to pay off Dalt's debts?You did just capture a Hutt, after all.If you do that, you'll probably lose your chance to help out Gwan. It seems like his issue is pretty urgent, and further delay may ruin your chances entirely.
On the other hand, Gwan has been nothing but reasonable with you so far. Gwan's as fair as they come in this drukhole, and you'd rather assist him than a shady organization that thrives on backstabbing. Still, he and his employers have their own agendas, and this is just something you'll have to accept.
>Meet up with Gwan after a quick bath. Maybe Tol Shani will cancel Dalt's debts if your efforts prove satisfactory. [Trustworthy] [Professional]
>Have a quick bath, then head back to the lockup to assist in Borda's interrogation. Make sure the Exchange doesn't weasel out of giving you your just dues this time. [Loyal] [Persistent]
>The third option: do things your way. Write-in.
You may only choose one of these options, and whichever one you choose will drastically impact the quest's direction.
>>335647
>Meet up with Gwan after a quick bath. Maybe Tol Shani will cancel Dalt's debts if your efforts prove satisfactory. [Trustworthy] [Professional]
Honestly, kinda want to do the whole "Independent Bounty Hunter" thing. The Exchange idea hasn't really worked out the way I thought it would, and I just like being a free agent due to variety of jobs.
Hark!
The brazen bells of midnight upon the darkness toll,
But sleep, life's custom agent, won't take from me his dole;
Down paths so many follow, death would my spirit lead,
And death, when all considered, resembles life indeed;
While in my heart the balance does level stand between
And neither to the one, nor to the other lean.Welcome to the Monster's Ball. It always starts at midnight. Enter a name on https://en.shindanmaker.com/497807 and join in! Conflicts are resolved with d666s when needed, or with playing it out. When the thread dies on /tg/, we keep it going on archive.4plebs For additional resources, please visit https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Weird and http://www.generatorland.com/usergenerator.aspx?id=1093 .
>>331405
>when thread dies on /tg/
>continue on archive.4plebs
Who are you and do you realise how little sense your copy paste makes?
Welcome to the town of Drophorse, a rural settlement in the prairies. In this universe, superheroes are real, and are constantly tearing apart cities in their climatic battles.
You, however, don't care for that bullshit. The easy way of life seemed to you like the only way to not get a kryptonite bullet lodged in your skull, so you never left your home town, as boring as it may be sometimes.
Hey, you like it here.
To start, simply submit your character in this way:
Name: Gary Hiebert
Power: Can raise his hands to 300 degrees Celsius
Bio: quick run-down of his personality and occupation.
There can be as many players as you want, but keep it reasonable for me. As for powers- pick something low-tier (Marvel's Defenders).
>>338178
>The Lighting Bolt
>Power over electrical lighting
>A former lighthouse-keeper, the Lighting Bolt was caught in the blast when the powerful electric light of the lighthouse exploded. Surrounded by light and surging arcs of electricity, he did not die but instead was reborn as a super-powered hero of justice.
>>338178
>Name: Jack Forrest
>Power: Can manipulate plants, growing them faster or moving them from a distance.
>Bio: Used to live as a missionary for the local church. Got trapped in the jungle and was forced to survive on berries. At the brink of death, the berries seemed to just fall in his mouth and replenished his energy. he survived and was forever changed. Lives off the land, now.
Call me Chainmail. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - the world turned to absolute fucking shit. It started when the Council of 13, the asshats who protected the Spellsongs, decided to fragment themselves and try to achieve dominance over one another. It didn't well. The skies were ripped apart by flame, lightning shattered the earth, ice covered the oceans, etc. etc. and Faggle, the greatest asshole of them all, made the dead rise from their graves. And all of this in about 4 and a half hours.
A lot of people died, and subsequently, were brought back to life as husks serving under Faggle, the Last Lifemaster. See, it was Faggle who started this whole shit. He found out that there was another way to acquire the Spellsongs, a much faster way: eat the brains of other spellsingers. He started with the other council members, but only two of them survived the complete annihilation that usually accompanies spellsinger duels. Those two, Faggle personally killed, and then he ate their fucking brains. But it wasn't enough. Faggle wanted all the Spellsongs. And also, Spellsongs obtained in this quaint way, didn't last long. Faggle need a constant supply of brains so he sent out his army of zombies to collect the brains of any and all spellsingers.
Unfortunately, the zombies made no distinction between spellsingers and ordinary people. It was easier to just to harvest everyone's brains. A lot more people died. The remaining survivors took to the skies in giant airships powered by starstone -- the material which makes the stars stay in the sky. The Deadlands, as its now called, are only traversed by the bravest, stupidest or most desperate of adventurers.
Yes, I'm sorry to say that I, Chainmail, am among the brave and stupid. My task (self-appointed of course) is to replenish the ever depleting supply of starstone on The Corona, the airship I call home. Unfortunately, starstone can only be found on land and that means idiots like me have to constantly risk our lives fighting against Faggle's zombies.
But its worth it. A single shard of starstone gets you another 3 months of airtime. Another 3 months of safety. Also starstone fetches a ridiculous price on the open market. The aforesaid shard can net enough coin for several small orgies or one very large one. But bacchanal mathematics aside, I do it for the children. Honest.
Now then, let me formally introduce myself. I'm Chainmail, 24 years old, single, virgin (I told you I did it for the children). I'm a(n):
>Cantor - Natural spellsingers, they can only memorize half the normal number of spellsongs, but they never forget a spellsong after singing
>Composer - The most flexible of all spellsingers, Composers do not memorize spellsongs beforehand but can use them on the fly, they can only sing a limited number of times a day however
>Mute - Mutes are specially selected from those who are born deaf and dumb. They cannot sing, nor can spellsongs affect them, consequently they are trained from birth in assassination and espionage.
>Phage - Despicable motherfuckers that follow in Faggle's footsteps and eat the brain flesh of dead (and sometimes living) spellsingers. They've done it enough times that their bodies have adapted and now brain flesh is the only thing they can eat, animal, human, spellsinger, commoner, dead, alive, it doesn't matter, they eat it all. Whenever you consume brain flesh you can instantly memorize an additional spellsong from your list.
>Book - Books are, in a word, geniuses. They are masters of memorization, They can memorize a number of spells equal to their intelligence stat, but memorizing exhausts them and they have wait twice as long before attempting to memorize again. They also get the most pussy (or so I've heard).
Roll 7d10 for your stats:
Strength
Dexterity
Agility
Intelligence
Charisma
Endurance
Luck
Rolled 5, 4, 10, 4, 1, 3, 7 = 34 (7d10)
>>337206
Composer
Rolled 7, 1, 8, 10, 10, 2, 7 = 45 (7d10)
>>337206
>Composer
Previous thread: https://archive.b-stats.org/qst/thread/214130
Chapter Directory: http://pastebin.com/sgnYBisDWelcome /qst/-readers to Scrumptious Calem and Kuudere Serena's Tubular Voyage, a ridiculously wacky over-the-top monster-of-the-week reinterpretation of the plot of Pokemon X and Y! This story has just moved from /vp/ after being hosted there since Oct. 2013, if you're new and this is your first time with us, please consider catching up with the dropbox archives in the Chapter Directory for the latest on our lore and inside jokes or sit down and enjoy the ride with little-to-no context whatsoever! Either way, you're in for a show!
Story interactivity is simple: readers will frequently be given ABC-style choices over several intervals in the thread, the choice with the most votes wins and progresses the chapter. Ties are randomized and players are notoriously penalized for simultaneously voting for more than one choice unless otherwise stated. Sometimes, the choice will be styled as a "fill-in-the-blank", and you will be tasked with thinking of the ideal scenario for the story to continue ("What do you do next?"). The response that garners the most reader-support often has the best chance of winning. Now enough explanations, I've stalled this long enough, any longer and Gen VII will have come out, let's get right down to it! Enjoy!Those leaks tho.
———————————————————————————————————————————
["THE CITY OF LIGHT" — LUMIOSE CITY, KALOS REGION]
[BLEU PLAZA — LUMIOSE AFTER DARK ]
When we last left our heroes, they had made fast friends in the form of a cute homeless girl and her sickly feline. However, they were quickly wrangled into a dicey conspiracy by foreign detective-for-hire and eccentric whackadoodle "Looker", who revealed that mysterious felons have been committing vicious night raids ever since the destruction of the moon. The people of Lumiose are being robbed of their laughboxes! The detective is at the forefront of discovering the mastermind responsible, but can't do it alone. A paragon of justice, Calem Calemson (that's you) and friends agree to become junior detectives and assist him in unraveling the mystery.
Who is behind this dastardly plot? Will the good people of Kalos ever laugh again? Can our heroes apprehend the villain before the lovely Princess Diancie arrives and inadvertently jeopardizes her own life?!
>>329357
"Nnyn...nnynn....NYAA-CHOO!"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_bjXnWMgiY
The sneeze echoes throughout the plaza grounds, bouncing from wall to wall in reverberation, blaring in the ears of everyone in its cold vicinity—but no one is hit with its screeching pitch harder than the fell monster looming just up ahead.
What would have been an endearing cry under any other context is the straw that breaks the Numel's back here. Emma rushes to cover the scruffy kitten's mouth, but it's too late.
The fleshy lumps, bumps, and pustules festering on the beast's back, head, arms, legs, face—everywhere—begin to vibrate, vibrate with an irritating—flaring—intensity. Its slimy skin shivers, not out of fear, but out of realization.
It's not alone.
"Uggnnnnnnggghhh......"
No longer shrouded by the darkness of the night, the larcenist reveals itself to be the husk of a rotting amphibian—a mindless pocket monster covered in blisters and pus-packed pockets—some popped, some not—with acidic gunk perpetually dripping from all its orifices. It's a sight to behold, and a sight to dread.
"Maaaaa..............TOA!"
The beast snaps in your direction, facing your party with an almost hypnotic gaze in its beady eyes. Everyone—even Looker—freezes like a Deerling caught in headlights. Anxiousness scales in fear of another unpredictable reaction, but surprisingly, it never comes.
Time slows to a crawl and for the next few moments, a staring stalemate ensues between you and the creature.
"What the.." mumbles Looker. "Why isn't it... reacting?"
"Not only is it not moving.." Serena whispers. "I don't believe it's breathing, either.."
>Engage the larcenist and its mind games?
A) Try talking to it, you know, "treat others like you would want to be treated".
B) Stay completely still. Don't make a move.
C) Attack it before it can attack you!
D) Approach it very, very slowly without startling it.
>>329357
>B) Stay completely still. Don't make a move.
Welcome to /qst/!
>>329362
B)
Stand Still, Stay Silent
![[]1.png](https://i.imgur.com/mqd4IqE.png "[]1")
