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/qst/ - Quests

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Welcome to The Island.
You did… better… last time; this time, lets last a single day.
I’m IslandBro, and this One-shot Quest is a rogue-like, which means I fully expect you to die before making any sort of progress. Read the accompanying menu, and follow the instructions to pick the tools for your survival and the instruments of your demise. Previous visitors already selected the crossed out options; those are still on the island, and you can find them, though they owe you nothing. The Nemeses in blue are on cool down after the last round, but the others are keen.
You will wake up on the Island in 30 mins with what you have brought and a metallic collar fused to your neck.
The Island is not a safe place and it’s all down to chance; for every action, roll a 2d10, the first to determine whose choice dominates, the second your success in said choice, anything above a 5 will have varying positive outcomes, 5 and below will mean failure of varying magnitudes. Three failures in a row will mean instant death. You may also support a choice, and if your roll takes priority, so do the consequences.
If you die, you die; I stop the quest until I can next be bothered to summon another mortal. No second chances. No second-guessing. It’s go time.
This is necessary for future readers to find the other entries in this series: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?searchall=The+Island+Rogue-like

Now decide who you are: name, personality, and character. Last time we had a selfish rich kid that had his comeuppance tenfold. Boy squealed like a pig as his body broke. Who's next?
Rolled 7, 3 = 10 (2d10)

Bill, near sighted bodybuilder who's a coward.
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The last thread, not necessary to read, but good for if you want more.
Now with more fanart.
Freya, Chick who spends alot of time doing outdoors activities, ie. Hiking, Rock climbing, etc.

>Speed things up here's the suggestions for the island encounters
Clifftop Castle
Tyrant Lizard
The Face
The Dead
One-Se7en and The Transcendant as nemeses
Rolled 1, 3 = 4 (2d10)

Sorry, capitol d in the dice command.
We could definitely use a competing selection. Chances are good you'd beat the current one.
Rolled 4, 1 = 5 (2d10)

Rerollin for this
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You wake up with a jolt; your Lats are feeling tight. It must have been because that new upright sleeping regime. You can already feel your muscles knitting together and forming an impenetrable bond of friendship. Just like coach said.
Wait. This isn’t the gym.
You adjust your glasses and observe the enormous throne room you’ve found yourself in; the big, empty and dark one. You’re sat in the throne. Is this a dream? You haven’t had a lucid dream before. Smiling you sit up in your chair and flex a bit, stretching your tight Lats.
All right, time to get comfy.
Suddenly the hall lights up as the bandoliers on the walls catch aflame. The great doors at the end open, and a procession of ghostly figures march through and kneel before you.
“Hail, Lord William.”
Hah, what? Your name is Bill, not Will. Stupid ghosts.
Here's a discord chat, for anyone that isn't already a part of our secret club: https://discord.gg/011dUdhj71aaoYFba
Rolled 7, 8 = 15 (2d10)

Order the nearest spirit to escort you back to the gym. Do not realize the conotations of them being ghosts, lest we flip our shit this early.
assuming that we are also a coward in our dreams. what we think are our dreams. fuck
You realized this is the perfect opportunity to work out without having protein shake all over the equipment. You point to the nearest spirit.
>You, carry me to the Gym.
The spirit in question, a regal looking fellow in a formal military uniform, looks up quizzically. “The Gym, Sire?”
> Yeah, you know, the training ground, or whatever. Where you keep in shape.
Honestly, these ghosts. You’ll have to be the one to show them the ways the modern world works. Now you’re the coach.
The regal fellow’s eyes light up, “Oh, you mean the Barracks! Of course, Sire.”
He approaches you; “But I’m afraid, Sire, that we can’t touch you, on account of our differing physicality’s.”
You reach out to take his hand, but you pass right through him. Oh, well you suppose that makes sense. You hop up and follow him out the hall.
Later, you reach the yard. The sun is only just rising over the bay, and you have a fantastic view from atop your fantasy castle. This is so sweet. The barracks is filled with all sorts of abandoned pieces of metal you could easily fashion into lifting equipment. This is like that time up at Grandma’s farm, when you tried to get her to convert her barn into a countryside bodybuilder’s retreat.
You also spy a rack full of old swords. Neat!
The formal dude, Pettigrew, coughs expectantly; “Would you like to inspect the quality of our weapons?”
Rolled 7, 3 = 10 (2d10)

Would we like to? We'd love to! What could go wrong :^)
Well, of course you would. You pick out a sword and wave it in a silly manner at Pettigrew.
>En garde!
The small smile on Pettigrew’s face disappears. He picks up his own sword, because apparently the ghosts can pick things up, but not touch you, and adopts a fencing position.
You falter a bit as you wonder if he’s getting serious or not. You don’t wonder for long. Using the flat of the blade he smacks you around, knocking you to your knees before disarming you. You aren’t particularly hurt, but your pride is sore. “Sire, weapons are not for play. You must be prepared for the responsibility that has befallen you. To point a blade at another man is tantamount to threatening his life. You must be prepared to reap the consequences.”
You shoot back to your feet, and hop away from him. You can feel the tears struggling to break out. How dare he.
“You have duties to attend to sire. The Earl of Wittenbree has come knocking about the loan you owe him.”
Some dream this has turned out to be.
Rolled 1, 4 = 5 (2d10)

How much we got in our coffers and how much do we owe? Check the earl out and whether not he has company.
These fucking rolls
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Then convince someone else to come to the thead and boost your roll.
Sorry about the fuck up
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No, please, continue to fuck up.
God fucking damnit
Rolled 5, 9 = 14 (2d10)

And now it just won't show the dice.
If this doesn't work I quit
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He actually did it...
This is boring. This fucking Earl has been nattering about some loan you never took out for ages, and you can’t just give him the money, because as Pettigrew pointed out, the treasury is flat broke. Blah.
The Earl came alone, and apparently you owe him a small fortune for some reason or another, apparently it’s something to do with your mother’s dowry? Just who the hell does this guy think you are? You wish he would just shut up.
He’s still talking. Shut up. Shut up.
Your cries are answered with a migraine and the feeling like you just burnt your pinkie. You wonder where it came from and cower in your seat, your rippling muscles protecting you, but soon you notice that the Earl has indeed shut up.
In fact, he’s disappeared entirely. Fancy that.
The room has gone quiet. You mean, it was quiet before, but it’s changed from bored quiet to shock still. Oh wow. You forgot for a moment you were in dream, but it’s nice to know that isn’t the case. The fact that a dinosaur just burst into the room assists this hypothesis.
Rolled 10, 10 = 20 (2d10)

Uuuhhhhh. Ask Leftovers where the nearest not Dino sized exit is and FLEE WHILE PANICKING.
Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d10)

Greet the dinosaur because he's obviously friendly, because we're obviously dreaming. No need to be scared.
Just roll for everyone from now on
Fucking autocorrect. Meant Pettigrew
I am not emotionally prepared for that responsibility.
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That's the first nat 10,10 we've ever had! Congratulations!
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A dinosaur. Yes. Let’s leave. You bound from your seat, leaping for the chandelier, which you successfully latch onto.
>Pettigrew! Where’s the exit!
“Behind the dinosaur, Sire!”
Fantastic. You swing from the chandelier, clearing the hall in a single leap, soaring over the head of the Dinosaur, who in turn yells; “Wait! My liege! I beg of you don’t leave me!”
A talking dinosaur? Now you’ve seen everything. You roll to a stop by the entrance.
>Goodbye, strange beast.
The Dinosaur swoons, and you turn 360 degrees and exit the room. The Hall bursts into applause.
Rolled 10, 1 = 11 (2d10)

Go take a nap. This shit is too weird.
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That was weird. You need to take a nap. But you’re already dreaming? Maybe you can go two levels down, like inception. Wait; maybe you’re already that far down? Who knows? Your head is hurting like a mofo though. Lucid Dreaming is hard.
You black out, and dream of nothing but the terrible things that wait outside the castle walls.
When you come to, Pettigrew the ghost is waiting for you, along with the Dinosaur, which is now wearing a red tapestry. What a world.
Wait, dinosaur? Oh God!
You spasm and hit your head on the floor. The Dinosaur speaks; “Oh Sire, you’re okay! Thank goodness, I was ever so worried!”
Your head swims, so you just nod. Maybe the Dinosaur isn’t so bad?
You sit up. “My name is Trunchbull. I am this castles emissary and scout! And I have dire news, My Lord.”
>Okay talking T-Rex. Let’s hear it.
“Well, it was urgent to begin with, but your nap may have cost us some crucially valuable time.”
>Well, get on with it.
“We’re under attack sire.”
Rolled 2, 6 = 8 (2d10)

check this save
Rolled 9, 1 = 10 (2d10)

I knew it, eating the earl was a bad idea. Check the situation. There's no way anything can beat a ghost army, right?
Rolled 4, 6 = 10 (2d10)

Where's the spirit militia when you need them? oh wait, here they are! Ride into DreamBattle on Trunchbell with your spirit horde in tow.
Oh my fucking god
Rolled 2, 6 = 8 (2d10)

Good job friend. I'm only rolling to waste my excess good fortune.
Rolled 7, 10 = 17 (2d10)

just kill me
Man the gates! You don your battle armour, or at least you would, if Pettigrew had given you a proper introduction to what the hell was going on.
As you approach the gates you hear a menacing thudding noise; something is ramming the gates, and it’s getting louder.
Trunchbull insisted on you riding him, so you did, and you’ve got to say you feel amazing riding your dinosaur with a sword in hand.
Once you climb the ramparts though, you begin to feel a significant sense of unease. Upon seeing what’s attacking the gates you feel even more unnerved.
It’s an android, and it’s punching the gate. You can’t help but admire the bulging corded muscle-analogues it has going on. You always wanted to look like that. But the more impressive thing is how it’s slowly growing with each punch. You also wished you could achieve gains that quickly.
You ready your phantasm militia by the gate and wait for the machine to give up. It only takes a few minutes before the gate is finally cracked in two and the robot makes a beeline for you!
Dismount Trunchbull and straight thrust into the robot's chest cavity or wherever it looks like a good idea.
You always win, real life, dreams doesnt matter
Metagaming here and i know that the One-Se7en should be weak at the start until he learns from his deaths
Rolled 2, 2 = 4 (2d10)

Awkward >.>
Inb4 thread ends from this 10, 2
Rolled 6, 7 = 13 (2d10)

here I am saving the roll
You're a saint
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Good Job, We almost died and had the shortest run so far.
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You leap off Trunchbull and waltz head on towards the Robot. You feel so badass.
It raises a super-powerful gate-crushing fist, but you duck and it goes whistling past your ear. You handle your sword appropriately and slam it into the chest cavity of the robot, where it cracks a glass sensor or something and slides right on in. The sword catches on whatever weird clockwork junk is going on in the terminator and snaps, but not before causing the machine to smoke and spasms before slowing to a halt.
Did you just win?
Pettigrew leaps in and tackles the creature away from you, where it promptly explodes with the force of a grenade. Your ears are ringing, and that sense of bravado you so miraculously had earlier melts away. You only now realise just how much your knees are shaking.
That was awesome!
Rolled 8, 1 = 9 (2d10)

We shall learn to overcome our cowerdice when we learn this is our reality now. All we need do is think back to this moment.
as for what to do, see if trunchbull requires first aid. if so, preform so to the best of our abilities Just do what the ghost doctor or Trunchbull tells us to do{/spoiler]
Rolled 8, 5 = 13 (2d10)

This, but better
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You win but you still lose.
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You look over to Trunchbull, he’s also rubbing his head from the bang.
>Hey Trunchbull! You alright?
Never mind. Hey, Pettigrew’s back.
“Sir! We must immediately pursue the perpetrator of this attack!”
>Didn’t we just do that?
“Sir, it is governed by law that no attack on these hallowed grounds go unpunished. This instrument of the devil was merely a pawn. It’s true master lies in wait, we must pursue immediately! Your life my still be in danger!”
That train of thought is, however, interrupted when Mrs Mimsy, the quartermaster comes and fusses over the lot of you.
Hmm, a quest.
Rolled 2, 5 = 7 (2d10)

Receive quest, search for loot
No other takers? This one it is then.
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You gear up for your journey, unfortunately, there hasn’t been much you could conceivably do to ready yourself anymore than you have. Apparently none of the suits of armour fit your enormous bulk, and anything else would take ages to create. All the while Pettigrew is urging for you to take vengeance as soon as possible. Other Phantasms, like Rory the Accountant and Reginald the Gardener, have voiced their disagreement, stating that you should stay here if you can.
But adventure awaits. You charge out the slowly repairing gates and run off into the forest that lies beyond, saddled atop your dinosaur. You realise you have no idea where to go, and that soon takes the steam out of you. Eventually you come to the beach that borders the bay, and pass through a field of jagged granite blocks pointing out the sand. You’re just about to exit the maze when you spy something down the beach.
They look like two large birds or something; with squat legs. In truth they’re enormous, likely larger than your own bipedal beast, but they don’t seem to have noticed you. In the distance you see what seems to be an enormous white Lighthouse, while to the right of that you spy what looks like a mountain with the top blown out. Everything else is obscured by hill.
Rolled 2, 2 = 4 (2d10)

Head to the lighthouse. Im not favoring the other options yet.
Rolled 8, 1 = 9 (2d10)

Saving thread with this sick 7
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Wow that's impressive.
You realize we die if we don't get someone else to help save the roll. Not that death would necesserily be the end...
Rolled 8, 4 = 12 (2d10)

Well it was fun while it lasted.
Check these sick dubs.
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Rolled 3, 8 = 11 (2d10)

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I'm giving it another 15 mins before I commit to the end. Let's Make This Thread Great Again.
Rolled 10, 3 = 13 (2d10)

Pardon me, just rolling some dicec.
Rolled 2, 6 = 8 (2d10)

Easy there bub. Savin this shit
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You head towards the Lighthouse. So what if there are birds in the way. It’s not like… Oh.
You just realised they aren’t birds. They’re machines; like those things from Star Wars, or whatever. And they just noticed you.
You can see now that they were crowded around the corpse of a beached sea creature, scanning it? Now, though, they are careful approaching you. That’s when you see it; just for an instant. A pair of numbers; 10 and 3.
You don’t know how you saw it, it was really more of a minds eye type deal. You don’t know what they meant, but they fill you with a supernatural dread.
>Trunchbull! We’re leaving!
“Aye Aye, sir!”
He runs at full tilt in the opposite direction, in an attempt to lose them. There was just one thing you didn’t count on.
The sound of minigun fire fills the air. You feel a nasty pain in your back and a curious wetness around your torso, as you fall off to the side. You can see Trunchbull still running, along with the lower half of your body still sat on his saddle. It looks ridiculous. A wave pats you on the head as you listen to the thud of the Biped Machines getting closer. You don’t feel much other than the cool wet sand on your cheek. The sound gets closer, you see a shadow, and then everything goes black.
Not again.
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Welp, that's it for now. But don't despair! Due to Bill's pact with the Dead, you may see him again! However, his collar was broken, so we won't be playing as him.
Pay attention to some of the clues laid out in this thread, as they may well serve to finally break the dreaded 65 post average. Poor luck can only acount for so much. Be back tomorrow for an extra fun time.
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See You Next Time!

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