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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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You are the Red Throat Tribe.

Undead ghouls animated by the sentient bacteria calling itself the Red Rot. Once enslaved to a necromancer you have broken free to create a new home for yourselves deep in the dark catacombs under the bustling metropolis of Meldric.

You are not alone down in the Dark.

You have made powerful enemies and close friends with the denizens of the undergrounds. The monstrous and the mutated look to your Tribe and the leadership of Chieftain Jaw for protection and guidance, the radiant light of your power guiding and shielding them from the horrors and cruelty that surround them.

Centered around your tribe an alliance of the various tribes and groups that struggle to survive. Mobile and sentient fungal creatures your closest allies, the first of your friends upon your Enlightenment, fight and die and farm alongside you. An ever growing family of Crocodilian mutants follow your example, protecting the weak with their fearsome might. An ancient and alien intelligence finds itself growing more attached to those it helps to protect at your urging. A family and village of hidden mutants, nearly broken by your own but healing and regaining strength, opens its arms to the refugees and discarded from the surface. A bizarre undead tutors and guides your siblings in profane arts, their cruel rituals turned to the betterment and protection of the Tribes.

Yet you have made many enemies as well. Surfacers fear and suspect you of atrocities or hunt and terrorize you and your allies. Monstrous creatures hunt and prey on the weak, mutants and undead stalking the tunnels in their eternal hunger. Alien minds, ancient and malevolent, twist and warp the dreams and bodies of the weak-willed into their pawns to spread chaos and fear. In many ways the Tribes acting as a buffer to protect the surface world from the horrors of the Dark.

You are the Red Throat Ghouls and the City above fears you. Time will tell if that fear is unfounded or rightfully deserved
Welcome back to the Red Throat Ghoul Quest!

Current Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?searchall=red+throat+ghoul+quest
Old Archive: http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/search/username/jyoti/type/op/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeroTheNull

This is the Red Throat Ghoul Quest where you play as a tribe of undead Ghouls as they live and grow in the tunnels and sewers under a metropolis thick with danger and pollution. There are many enemies that would love to do the tribe harm but the tribe does have friends to help it in it's times of need.

Previously the hurricane season begins, rains falling on Meldric and filling the rivers and sewers underground.

Talon and Grubbilech's family began their hunting of the Aboleth's Skum minions while Fang and the Unity investigated the Roach presence in the industrial sector. There the shadowmancer discovered aRoach warparty returning from a successful hunt carrying the remains of zombies and undead. Following their trail revealed the source, a hidden vault packed full of undead armored and armed waiting in darkness but now breached and destroyed by the insectoids.

Jaw paid a visit to the Mansion, bringing along Bone, Bug, and the Sporemancer to assess the grounds and see if they could discover anything of use. While exploring the mansion Jaw received a memory of her previous life before death. The mansion had belonged to her and her husband in life, nobles of Meldric.
Leader: Chieftain Jaw

Population: 15 Enlightened, 115 Human Ferals, 95 Hobgoblin Ferals, 11 Orc Ferals, 58 Goblin Ferals, 1 Troll Feral, 2 Ogre Ferals, 5 Radiant Ferals

Prisoners: 4 Ripper infected (3 humans, 1 hobgoblin)

Livestock: 46 Murkhounds, 20 Clackers, 25 Centipedes

Bases: Sepulcher (Home), Reservoir, Abandoned Mansion, Industrial Outpost (joint Fungal operation)

Guests: Sweetie

With Jaw away still at the mansion Fist and Tatters tend to the matters of the Tribe. For once the Unity reports little movement in the tunnels, the Skum seemingly scared off by the aggressive patrols of the Ghouls and Crocodilians. It's own spies into the Roaches burrows report that it was in fact a large nesting area for the insectoids and their enslaved minions. The slime reported seeing the undead remains gathered and stacked on top of a pile of even more rotten, likely once undead, flesh. Scurrying over the grisly foodpile was what alarmed the Unity, pale nymphs of the Roaches and grubs of umber hulks feasting on the offering.

Elsewhere in the tunnels Brute reports the small bunker that he and the Warrior fungal had been creating was nearing completion. At the news of the Roaches increased presence in the industrial tunnels further north of their outpost they'd begun focusing on setting traps and sealing tunnels to prevent any undue surprises.
Nice to see you running again Graves, when did Brute and the Warrior start building a bunker?
It's been sort of in the works. Jaw and the Eldershroom decided that since they had little to no presence in the Industrial Sectors it would be a good time to create an outpost they could observe from and have a supply cache in case of emergency.
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The rains had abated somewhat over the city, granting a welcome reprieve to the populace as they flooded the streets to do their errands and chores they couldn't while hiding in their homes. The skies were still gray but one could see the glow of the sun trying to break through the clouds.

A light drizzle patters off the roof of the small carriage as it rattles along the cobblestone streets. A goblin holds the reins to a pair of surly packbirds while shouting at pedestrians to clear the way. Claw strips the last bit of seasoned meat from a wooden skewer then tossing it out a window with an indignant shout following them, "I still don't know how Chuck get's away with it," he says as he picks at his teeth with a nail, "Not that I'm complaining. Just gotta wonder where he gets his meat."

Fear looks from the window at the Market District passing them by to the hobgoblin, "Ever wonder why Qaza rarely gets any plump corpses?" he looks back out the window as Claw squints at him then continues, "I followed him a few nights. Has a deal with the morticians. They get a cut for his cuts."

The hobgoblin skinwalker snorts a laugh, "Was that a joke? Is the sky falling and Zurai walks the streets?"

Shaking his head the other ghoul dons his hat as the carriage rattles to a stop near a large wrought-iron fence. Stepping out into the shadow of one of the largest building in Meldric Fear pays the driver as Claw carries a wooden cask under his arm.

Cane tapping across the cobblestone plaza they join the throng of bodies moving to and from the Parliament Building. The great black stone building was all sharp angles and imposing grotesques, inanimate gargoyle spouts directing the runoff from the roofs to the river the building towered next to. The Guardmilitia's headquarters and main barracks lay in the bowels of the building, patrols of the gray-uniformed citizens marching across the slick stone out into the city.
Did we ever vote on that?
Inside it was dry but the chaos only worsened. The main receiving hall was a massive chamber that echoed with the voices and footsteps of hundreds of beings waiting to speak to the too few clerks sitting at a row of desks. Scribe secretaries and slaves rush through the crowds, arms full of papers or carrying books. Nobles walk surrounded by their guards, sneering at the commoners as they went from errand to errand.

Slipping through the crowd they approach a doorway in the back flanked by a pair of guards but Fear shows the note of appointment stamped by the Lord Governors personal scribes and they wave the pair through. The hallway past the door was remarkably quieter but still full of people as they scurried to and fro.

Following a series of signs they arrive at a room with several metal lattices along one wall and several smartly dressed attendants. Flashing the note once more one of the attendants hauls up the metal grating and beckons them into the small cramped room with a series of levers on one wall. Letting the grate fall behind them the man smiles politely then cranks a lever, that sends the lift to life with a startling jolt and a grinding of gears. The man tries to hide his smirk at their unease but Claw growls in a low voice and bares his teeth that makes the attendant grimace and shy away. Fear thumps the hobgoblin in the stomach with the handle of his cane and glares at him for a moment until the lift comes to a halt with a jerk and a chime of a bell.

Er, no. It was just something I had the Tribe do, similar to finding the Mansion Grounds
The room on the other side was large, larger than even the Sepulchers main hall. A single wall was completely replaced with a window, rain-slicked glass offering a breath taking view of the city and the dark river that wound through it. Seated at a large desk of carved black wood was the round form of the Lord-Governor, his eyes cold and accusing as he glared at the pair.

His personal Guard-Captain and bodyguard stops them before they could progress too far and frisks them. She takes the simple work-knife Claw had hidden in his boot and he an only shrug at Fears squint. Next she took Fears cane and with a knowing twist revealed the glint of the blade. Placing the weapons on a table next to the elevator she motions curtly to the pair of chairs sitting before the desk.

Fear reaches out his gloved hand to shake the Lord-Governors hand but he only glanced at it like a diseased rodent. The leather of his glove creaks as Fear clenches his hand into a fist then bows. Glancing at Claw who gives a bow as well before taking their seats, "Thank y-" he manages to get out before he was cut off.

Leveling a finger with a heavy gem-encrusted finger at them the bald man says with a low voice, "I thought I made it abundantly clear. You get your ramshackle brewery and I never see you again," he waves a hand, leaning back in the large chair that creaks with his weight, "And yet, here you are. Sitting in my office after harassing my secretaries to arrange a meeting," Both ghouls tense as the Guard-Captain steps up close behind them, her hands gripping the pair of spiked cudgels hanging from her belt, "Why?" he asks simply but by his tone they could tell he was expecting a good answer.

How should they reply?
This is gonna be a tough one.

Not sure exactly how we should world it, but we need to make this sound profitable to him, while at the same time backpedaling from any accusing blackmailing we... may or may not have done, all while trying to very carefully avoid language that would once again potentially be considered accusing, since we're within earshot of his guards.

We want that mansion, right? Well, nobody seems to own it, so wouldn't that mean the Lord Mayor could potentially pocket a sizable amount of coin from selling it? My Fantasy Law degree is a bit rusty.

Also I'm sure it's become an eyesore for the rest of the neighborhood. Maybe even offer it as a good place for men of his "delicate and distinguished tastes" to enjoy himself in a non-judgmental atmosphere of like-minded fellows?

I.E., a secret club of sick perverts that don't judge each other.
Well, how else are we supposed to purchase abandoned properties we need? Haggle with the rats inhabiting them for squatting rights?
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Fear shrugs his shoulders and leans back in the cushioned chair, elbows propped on the armrests and fingers steepled before him, "I must apologize for our rather uncourteous introduction. I believe you didn't even get my name. My name is Solvar. This is my associate..." he motions to Claw.

The hobgoblin blinks, "Oh, right. I'm Sorin."

The one eyed ghoul nods, "We come to you as businessmen. Our brewery is turning a decent profit and we wish to purchase more property in Meldric and assumed you would be the best to speak to."

The fat man shifts in his seat as he looks at them suspiciously then waves the bodyguard off. She releases her hold on her cudgels and moves to stand nearby, watching them with steely eyes. The Lord-Governor waves a hand dismissively, pudgy fingers heavy with rings and sighs with sudden exasperation, "You don't go the Lord-Governor to buy property," he shakes his head and frowns at them, "Why is Qaza wishing to purchase more buildings? Aren't the Gravekeepers satisfied with their Necropolis anymore?" he asks with a drop of worry in his voice.

Shaking his head Fear reaches up and rubs under his glass eye, "Fear not, Qaza is quite content with her current residence. This property we wish to purchase, this is more than just a rundown brewery or derelict apartment block," he nods to "Sorin" and the hobgoblin pulls out a folded paper they had written the address down for the mansion and passes it to the bodyguard then to the politician.

He reads it then scoffs, "The Creswen manor? That place is bad luck. The Lady Creswen fell ill during the Plague and Lord Creswen jumped from the roof of this very building in his grief. A common occurrence of that time I'm afraid," he says with a somber tone then looks sternly at Fear, "Still, a place like that costs money. More than I'm sure your little brewery can afford."

What shall you say?
>Offer payment
>Bribe (With what?)
>Fast talk
>Offer payment

But he's probably right. I doubt we have enough in pure coin. Can we offer as much of what we have as is financially viable in order to augment our other methods? Although, maybe that would be considered the same as a bribe at that point. Either way, offer him money in one way or another to help brighten his mood and make our argument sound better while we
>Fast talk
Our way through this. Say we plan on refurbishing the place up, fixing the old blight on the town and public safety.

Also, anyone else game for at least playing face to making it a kind of creepy Eyes Wide Shut club for pervy nobility to hang out? It could give us a decent source of dirt on some of the nobility.
Sounds like a plan.
Glad I caught this.

Support. I don't have any better ideas; I'm sure it would be crass to harp too much on the manor's reputation devaluing it, but promsing to refurbish it as a 'public service' (and discreet place for high-class questionable activities) might help.

If they're willing to look past the creep factor, we'll be sure to hold up our end and try to make sure nobody gets seriously hurt.
The gaunt skinwalker presses his fingers into the soft part of his eyelids and the blue glass eye pops free with a wet sound that makes the two humans recoil and even Claw looks at him in confusion. The blue orb dances across his knuckles as Fear watches it with an almost bored expression, "True, our brewery is only just starting but it is not our only source of wealth. Believe me, Lord-Governor, we can afford it," the fake eye glints in the light of the chandelier above, "You could personally benefit as well from this sale. Pocket the money yourself and just assign us the deed. We'll pay for place and Qaza will consider it a personal boon."

The two grimace as he finally presses the eye to the empty socket and blinks several times before the carved glass rights itself. Finally the Lord-Governor shakes his head in disgust, "Not enough," he says simply and the two ghouls fear he might dismiss them.

Fear was ready to speak again when Claw leans forward, "Pardon my interruption but I believe I have an offer. This mansion is quite the eyesore. We can fix it up, help make the neighborhood look presentable. But the real thing ye'll like is this," he pauses for effect and the three of them just stare until he gives a small cough and continues, "It must be quite a trip, traveling in secret to visit dear Auntie Qaza," the two still living being tense at the name but "Sorin" continues, "We could provide a discreet place for you to spend your time. You would have all the privacy you need. If'n there were some other noble folks who share your tastes, we could open our doors to them as well, no judgement to be had."

The "Mayor" and his bodyguard look at the hobgoblin like he was insane before the man speaks up, "Why would you do this for me and why are you so fucking casual about this?" he demands with ire in his voice.
It was Fear that responded, "We are personal friends with Qaza, an undead older than this very city. Do you think we care what your proclivities are? We get the manor, you get money and most importantly, discretion," he says with his stern, even voice and looks to him unblinking.

Leaning back in his chair once more the human looks at the pair of disguised ghouls as if weighing his options. Finally he slams a fat hand on the desk, "Fine then. I'll have my secretaries look into who holds the deed and we'll send word to your brewery with how much it is. I don't know what your game is or what you really are but know this," he leans forward, pointing a well manicured finger at them, "Cross me and the only thing that will be found of you and those greenskins that work for you will be your bones dredged up from the river."

Fear nods, "Of course. We we hardly dream of crossing you," he says while standing and donning his hat, ignoring the heated glare from the man. He nods to Claw, "Come Sorin. Let's not waste anymore of the Lord-Governors time."

Claw stands, placing the cask on the desk. The man looks at it with distrust but Claw just smiles, "A gift. Our finest brew. Not as grand as the berrywines you nobles like so much but we'd be quite willing to provide you with a free supply of it anytime you like. If it agrees with you of course," he says then tips his own, smaller hat.

Retrieving their items they wait for the elevator to arrive while Claw leans over to whisper low enough that only Fear could hear, "That went well, I think."

Fear just shrugs as they entered the lift when the metal lattice lifts.
Oh boy! We're going to start our very own undead bordello!

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The Lord-Governor seems to be begrudgingly willing to accept the Ghouls terms and will send word of the cost.

At Creswen Manor itself Bone has finished his initial survey of the property and he finds Jaw standing in what was once the master bedroom. A large room with a rotten and mold-infested bed large enough for at least six people to sleep comfortably, neglected furniture scattered about the room. Jaw was looking at the faded and damaged pictures that lined the walls or sat in small frames on tables.

"Trying for more memories?" Bone asks softly as he entered, a feral hopping after him. Jaw looks up from a small portrait of Lord and Lady Creswen smiling by the side of some distant forested lake, boats dotting the water.

She shrugs and places it face down, "There iss not much. For the best. I aam Jaw of the Red Rot and Chief of the Red Throat. I knnow who I am," she waves at the pictures, "She is a deaad woman."

Bone moves to stand beside her looking at the array of pictures. He was silent for a bit then, "I knnow some of my former life. It waas what helped me, helped us, grow. I aam no lonnger who I was but I cann learn from it and grow," he places a comforting hand on her shoulder, "We are Ghouls. Life anew, thrrough Death. We aare new beings, free to choose ouur paths," he smiles sheepishly, "Or sso Tatters says."

Jaw smiles as she pats his hand, "Thaank you, brother. You aare right," she gives one last look at the evidence of a life that had been her own in time gone then turns to Bone, "So whaat news?"

Bone nods and motions to the feral who hands him a book he had written his notes in, "Well, it wonn't collapse on us. Extensive waater damage, mold and fungus everywhere but Sporemancer saaid that was easily fixed. Pipes need replaacing. Some floors ready to cave. It's a mess," he says honestly and Jaw frowns but he continues, "But I caan fix it. Some feraals here and give me a few weeks and we'll haave it looking better thaan before."
I wonder how they'll repair the exterior with ferals. I hope this property has very, very spacious lawns.
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There was a sudden sensation of alarm and anger that rippled through the mental network of ferals and the pair quickly rush to the broken window overlooking the back and the greenhouse. The greenhouse where the trio were still picking through the plantlife and where they could hear shouting and the screeching of ferals.

Peering through the eyes of a feral they watch the scene unfold. The greenhouse was thickly overgrown with plantlife, vines and weeds filling nearly every free space. Old pots lay scattered and broken on the floor as a goblin feral kicks and chokes, suspended several feet in the air.

Echo and Bug rush forward, feral in a near panic as the goblin was seemingly attacked by a bit of foliage, thick green vines covered in rippling leaves wrapped tight around its neck and face dragging it upwards. Echo slashes at the vines with her dagger and manages to sever one, the others recoiling and blue liquid sprays from the wound. There was a high-pitched squealing as the clump of leaves the vines emerged from flashed through several bright greens and yellows before the whole mass leaps up and dashes through the canopy, swinging from branch to branch as it disappears.

The goblin lay on the ground, panting heavily as it caught its breath, another feral stabbing a knife through the still flailing tendril to pin it down. The Sporemancer pokes at it with his staff and the vine lashes out instinctively, coiling around the staff and squeezing hard with a cluster of thorn-like barbs at the tip.

>Greenhouse survey delayed
Gotta stop it here, sorry folks. Thread is archived, please vote for it if you can.

Thread will likely continue tomorrow if enough folks show up. Sorry for the lack of player decisions in the quest lately.

I'll be up for a while longer if folks have questions.

Hope folks had fun playing, I know I did running it.
It's actually a big property. There is a long path up to the building proper and the once carefully manicured yards are now wild and overgrown, effectively blocking the view from the gates that have been sealed. Meldric nobles covet their privacy
Look man, I've enjoyed Ghoul civ from the get go, but the way you've been writing the redux quest seems less like a player driven quest and more like story. In the past quest you would give us an open ended vote on what to do about a dozen times a thread on average. This was what engaged us as players, motivated us, and what allowed us to shape the Red throat tribe into what it became. Those votes on things like technological advancement and construction was what really pulled us in as players and kept bringing us back.

Contrast that with this thread, where the only vote you posted was to decide on Fear's response to the Mayor. That was literally it. Even in the old quest where we followed him around on the surface all day we had more input as players than this. And this is a problem that is only being compounded by your increasingly lengthy post times. The end result is a quest that feels less like an open ended adventure driven by player participation, and more like a story written by you. A particularly vivid and evocative story, but that isn't what draws anons to quests or prompts them to get engaged in it.

My criticisms aside, I have thoroughly enjoyed this quest from the beginning and still do, and look forward to seeing what you'll do with it in the future. But if you want to bring players in, I think you will have to do more than what you have done in the past four threads to get them participating.
These are good criticisms that I needed.

It's true I've gotten pretty bad at including player interactions with the quest and I want to fix that. I'm working on redoing the tech trees, even got SlowCM to help me out with the basis of it and I should have it ready by this weekend.

Balancing what needs a vote and what would just slow down the quest is always difficult to figure out, but you're right. Without player participation I'm just writing a story for folks to read.
I'm glad to see you're making an effort to address the issue. I must say I'm eager to start engineering crazy weaponry and unlocking fleshcrafting and the like in the future.
Hump de bump

We need to get us some rats
And some umberhulks.
We should probably raid the Roaches for the grubs he mentioned in the opener or find some wild ones

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