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/qst/ - Quests

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Previous threads:
(These could use some votes, btw)

When we last left off, our hero Krystal had just finished infiltrating the headquarters of the old order, now a cesspool of thieves. She and her bodyguards are disguised as prostitutes, and are planning their next move...

>[]Kill the guards by the gates.
>[]Go after whoever is in charge of this hellhole.
>[]Have a foursome. Purely to avoid suspicion, of course.
(Should you begin your attack, roll 1d100)
>Go after the man in charge
"Alright, we're going after whoever's in charge of this shithole."
You strap on your scabbard/gun belt, sling your sawed-off over your shoulder, and cover up your exposed bits.
"That's kind of creepy..." Gareth comments.
He leads you down some more hallways. Several times, you grab would-be pickpockets and break their fingers. At the entrance to the chapel, a mercenary stops you.
"State your names and purpose."
He's pretty ragged-looking, but his armor and greatsword probably wouldn't be any less deadly because of that.

>[]Try to bluff your way in. (Write-in)
>[]Kill him. Preferably quietly. (Roll 1d100)
>[]Shoot him. (No roll required for enemies unaware of firearms, but it will be loud)
>Try to bluff your way in
"Hanna and I bring message from the bosses mother, so you better let us through without much fuss "
everyone has a mother and this usually keeps people from asking stupid questions.
The mercenary taps his foot on the ground a few times, weighing his options.
"Just be quick about it." he says, opening the door. You've bamboozled him good.
The door closes, and you face a circle of people in black and purple robes standing in a circle and chanting.
They stop and lower their hoods.
"That was a great session, guys. Same time next week?"
One of them, an older Salamander, stops and sees you.
They throw their hoods back up and regain their creepy demeanor.
"Why have you disturbed us?" the Salamander rasps.

>[]I have a message from your leader's mother. (Write-in. Be funny)
>[]Shoot as many as you can.
>[]Try to be sneaky about it.
Before anything else, what do we see? Do they have documents pencils and die of varied shapes with them?
>I have a message from your leaders mother
*clear throat*
The great old one wishes to know if her little chocolate muffin can make it for dinner in time.
You may or may not have seen a colorful red dice being slipped into a pocket, but other than that, they seem to have been having some sort of practice ritual. One of them has a thurible, still smoking with incense. The others have books and papers and chalk, various indecipherable cult stuff. What was most interesting was the fact that the cultists were wearing holy symbols of the old storm god.
You relay your message, and the cultists slowly turn their heads to look at one of their more obese brethren.
He looks about nervously.
"W-wrong great one?"
His brethren glare at him.
"Have you been sneaking away from the Order, Duane?"
"What!? N-no! My mother never... what even *is* a chocolate muffin!? They wear suspicious sigils, they must be spies!"
He starts making wavy motions with his hands.
"Bôr, I beseech thee for thy aid..."
A purple light begins to grow between his hands.
"Duane, stop this! There's no reason to--"

>[]Shoot him before he completes the spell.
>[]Rip 'n tear.
>Shoot him before he completes the spell
"But Duane what would your mother think"
>>[]Shoot him before he completes the spell.

time to convert these lost ship to the one true storm god
"Duane, your mom just wants you to come home."
He halts his spell and stares at you blankly.
"But my mother died..."
"I know."
You draw your gun and shoot Duane in the head. He collapses, prompting screams and horrified gasps. The mercenary guard bursts into the room and draws his sword.
The old Salamander clears his head and starts up his own spell.

Roll 1d100.
Rolled 21 (1d100)

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Rolled 33 (1d100)


let's try thet again
Rolled 9 (1d100)

maybe I should have waited with the reaction image
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(This better not end with everyone dying)
You back away from the mercenary, completely forgetting about the cultists behind you.
A beam of purple light strikes you, hurling you to the mercenary's feet. He hits you with his sword several times before you grab his arm and struggle to your feet.
Jaylen was hit with a beam as well. Her armor's kinetic shielding doesn't seem to be so good against magic. She holds her side and lashes out with her whip.
Gareth is smacked across the face with the mercenary's broadsword, and Faervel is caught in the backswing. She lies still in the corner.

What's your plan of attack?


unleash a storm of bullets on the mercenaries, glock in one hand shotgun on the other, tell lizard tits to cover us while we make a break for elf tits
This move might not be very Paladin but we had a rough day, our party member got knocked out (I refuse to believe that she would die in a place like this) and we certainly are sick of cults.
Jump up take our gun and swing it like a baseball bat into that ugly bastards face!
Repeat these steps if necessary
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Alright, it's time to fucking go.
You unslung your sawed-off, bash the mercenary's nose in and shoot him for good measure.
"Jaylen, cover me!"
You sprint over to Faervel, taking potshots at the cultists.
She's alive. Probably broke a lot of her ribs though.
You hear something collapse behind you. The mercenary hadn't succumbed to your shotgun, but Gareth had slit his throat while you were busy.
"I'm fine, no need to check up on me or anything."
He winces, cradling his arm.
"I'll look after her, help Jaylen."
Without backup or anywhere to run, you quickly dispatch the rest of the cultists, save the old Salamander.

>[]Interrogate him.
>[]Execute him.
>[]Offer redemption.
>>[]Offer redemption

embrace the new storm god or perish
>>[]Interrogate him.

He must have answers.
>Interrogate him.
>[]Offer redemption.
You search him, taking a carved tablet from his robe's pocket.
"What is this?"
"It broadcasts my voice throughout the stronghold."
"Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"My name... would mean nothing to you. As for why I'm here, that purpose has been made null by your presence."
You try to coax more information out of him, but he clams up.
You sigh and press your gun to his head.
"Well, my hands are tied. I can give you two choices. You can join me and devote yourself to Alagos, or... you can die."
The Salamander spits at your feet.
"That seems pretty definitive." you mutter.
"Yes... IT IS!"
The Salamander raises his foot, which begins glowing with purple light.

Roll 1d100.
Rolled 99 (1d100)

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You react instantly, pulling the trigger and ending the man's life. Gareth's face sours.
"Eeeugh. That thing gives me nausea."
Yeah, well, he'll just have to deal with it.
You sling Faervel over your shoulders and get out before anyone comes to investigate.

>[]Find the door mechanism and get it open, then let the guards handle everything else.
>[]Find somewhere to recuperate.
>Find the door mechanism and get it open, then let the guards handle everything else.
You sprint down hallways, blasting any semblance of resistance away with your sawed-off.
You kick open the door to the outer wall and shoot the two guards. You pull a lever, opening the main doors. A guard patrol outside is startled by this. You shout at them to go get help.
Okay, now to flush everyone out... aha! You take a deep breath...
Someone rubs onto the wall. You shoot them.
The guard shows up and promptly arrests what criminals they managed to catch, and also give your companions medical help. They bring you into an office for questioning, where you take a long drink of water (and heal your sore throat) before telling your version of events.

How do you explain what happened?
Heretical cult was on the stronghold, Alagos the one true storm god commanded me to clear them out and gave me the strength to do it, also, did I mantion that premarital sex is a-ok?
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"we just happened to pass by and ended up in the wrong house, it was a just a huge misunderstanding.
We were just trying to explain that we didn't know any storm god and we haven't come to slaughter them all in the name of the greater good.
When suddenly my gun misfires directly into the poor mans face.
Understandabley it became considerably harder for us to explain our peaceful and not at all
murderous intentions and well you saw the end result."
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The guardsman questioning you looks at you like pic related.
"...I have neither the time, inclination, nor jail space to indict you for murdering those people. I'm going to let you off with a warning for now, as thanks for cracking that place open."
You thank him and stand up to leave.
"You sure you wouldn't want to join--"
"I'm perfectly happy with my faith, thank you very much. And for Aeneth's sake, put some clothes on."
You go back to the inn and oblige. Your companions have been healed, to the most extent. You still have some sores and bruises.
Faervel looks a little groggy.
"What happened... did we win?"
Yeah... you did.

>[]Well, let's go take a look.
>[]Lets gather more followers while we're famous.
>[]We'll split and do both.
>[]Lets gather more followers while we're famous
considering all the shit that can happen in a city, we better make use of our short lived fame.
>Lets gather more followers while we're famous.
>>[]Well, let's go take a look.
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(I guess I'll send you to the more interesting place)
You tell your companions to start gathering followers.
"If they ask where I am or whatever, tell them I'm cleansing the stronghold, and I could probably use some help."
They nod and set off to various parts of the city. Hopefully that goes well...
You arrive at the stronghold just as a cart full of bodies and [s]loot[/s] contraband sets off to the crematorium. A small blue pearl rolls out of a cultist's sleeve, which you quickly pocket.
After convincing the guards of your ownership ("Yes, the old champion gave me this thingy. No, I didn't kill him."), you sigh, stretch, and get to work.

(You have a new... Ability Pearl? Yeah, let's go with that. What do you use it for?)
>[]Automatically charge your sword with electricity.
>[]Instantly learn dimensional magic (lets you swap guns)
>[]Slime Form! (Turn into a slime. Lets you do lots of slimy things, you could even turn yourself into bio-mail for someone else if you want)
(Forgot IDs. I seriously need to get some more sleep)
>Slime Form!
who knows how many times this might save us from beeing crushed under a collapsing roof.
>Slime form
We should test it with Alagos (sexy times)
You crush the pearl under your foot. You feel your form wobble a little, but the feeling subsides. You'll have to test it later.
(It won't take hold until you succeed a check while sleeping. It'll make sense later)
You hurl heavy objects at makeshift tents and drag the debris out to the front. It's tiring work, but you manage to score some nice stuff (like some new plate leggings, lighter in weight and color).
After a few hours, you notice others helping you clear out the stronghold. This, combined with some suspiciously strong wind, helps you tremendously.
Eventually, you've gotten all the crap from the first floor out, and found a volunteer chapel maiden. Your companions walk through the door.
"Eugh. We'll need to scrub everything. But it looks a lot better, now. I never knew how *wide* the halls were..."

>[]Have a chat with your companions. (What about?)
>[]Thanks, guys. I'm gonna go pass out now.
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>[]Thanks, guys. I'm gonna go pass out now.
And the next day we have a sticky surprise for them
>>[]Thanks, guys. I'm gonna go pass out now.
(I just realized that I lost my trip...)
"Good night."
You walk up to the private tower thing and push all the cult crap out of the way of the bed. A stray prostitute shrieks and sprints away as fast as she can. Heh.
You barely manage to unfasten your armor before collapsing. Getting the shit kicked out of you, followed by hard labor, is a pretty effective sedative.


Why's it all dark?
More importantly, why are you naked?
You squint into the darkness, looking for... well, anything, really. You can see yourself, so it's not just dark...
You turn around and freeze. A slime woman was standing uncomfortably close to you. As soon as you see her, she starts molding herself around your body.

>[]Struggle. Get your revenge against the slimy bitch.
>[]Accept it. Might as well enjoy yourself.
(Roll 1d100, regardless of your choice)
Rolled 97 (1d100)

>[]Accept it. Might as well enjoy yourself.
Rolled 27 (1d100)

>Accept it. Might as well enjoy yourself.
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You shrug. There aren't any downsides to this as far as you know, so why complain?
You smirk as the slime closes over your head. This'll be fun.
A tendril worms its way into your throat. You bite off the end, chew it, and swallow it down. Tastes like blueberries.
The slime swirls slightly around your clit and sends more tendrils up your ass and pussy. You moan in pleasure, rocking your hips and falling to the floor.
After an unclear amount of time, you swallow down one last portion of slime and lick your lips. You've absorbed all of it, one way or another. You close your eyes and lie in the darkness, enjoying the feeling of being... full.


You wake up, yawning slightly. Looking down at yourself, you can see that your skin has become transparent, and slightly sticky. You grab your shirt front and pull it straight off your body, sliding it through your torso. No excess slime remains on it.
This is interesting, if creepy. You decide to take off the rest of your clothes the traditional way, and stand in front of the mirror.
You're still Krystal, just made of Jell-O. Same body proportions... you concentrate, and your breasts grow a little larger. Then a lot larger. You decide to keep them at their original size. These were starting to hurt your back.
You look back toward the bed, just now noticing Jaylen sleeping sprawled out...

>[]Oh, good. She can help you experiment.
>[]Nah, let her sleep. You can experiment on your own for now.
>[]Change back to human and go downstairs. Lots of cleaning to do...
(Is there a preference for what color your slime is?)
>Oh, good. She can help you experiment.
You put a hand over Jaylen's mouth. She groggily sits up and starts struggling to push you away.
"Jaylen, it's me. I'm not gonna hurt you, just look at my--"
She starts panicking and trying even harder to shove you away.
"Ah. Can't breathe, I forgot."
A small amount of your slime trickles down her throat. Whatever process is going on with that allows her to breathe through your hand.
"There we go. Now let's get nice and comfy."
You pull off her 'armor' and lie down on her back, moaning slightly as her tail rubs against your crotch. You remove your hand and get behind her, two tendrils growing from your pelvis.
"I've always wondered what it was like..." you mutter, sliding your double-dick into Jaylen.
She gasps and tightens, grabbing at her breasts.
You awkwardly start thrusting, savoring the unfamiliar sensation of feeling someone clamp down on your cock. Jaylen gasps as she climaxes, and you follow not long after, squirting slime into her.
You slowly change back to human form, panting slightly. Jaylen scoops your slime out of her pussy and licks her fingers clean before feeding you.
"Krystal... I don't mind much, but... what did you just do?"

How do you respond?
"Seems to have been a blessing that I received. I figured you would like to help me try it out, it was extremely interesting."
"It certainly was! I wonder if I'll ever be able to do something like that..."
Faervel opens the door.
"Krystal, come down. It's time for--"
She looks down at you both sitting on the floor, naked, eating slime cum.
"...when you're ready."
She leaves. Jaylen starts giggling.
"Oh, she's so funny."
You clean yourself, get dressed, and head down, hurling a chest of 'fookin' cultist garbage' off the connecting bridge as you do so.
The mess hall consists of seven long tables. Six in rows, one perpendicular to the others. You go ahead and stand in front of what you presume to be your spot, being the obvious (if plain) Inquisitorial chair. Your new followers are here as well, you'll have to commend whoever paid for the catering.

>[]Speech! (Write-in. Depending on what you say, this might affect the religion's whole 'theme', basically determining whether you'll be the Warriors of Sunlight or the [s]Space Nazis[/s] First Order)
>[]Thank you, everybody for coming. Let's eat. (A legit speech I heard once)
>[]Speech! (first attempt to become Space Nazis First Order )
Thank you all for coming, lets pray to show our Lord, our gratitude for the food and shelter he provides us
as his loyal subjects. For giving us the will and strength to stand up to the evil that has befallen this land.
Because we are the chosen few tasked with this holy task,
for we are destined to free our brethren from the filth that is hiding among them.
>tactical pause for 'prayer'

I stand here today as a representative of his light(ning) and I see people of every part of society,
the fortunate and the less fortunate, the young and the old, we have all gathered here
for the one divine reason.
I have no doubt in your loyalty for it is the kind our enemies lack,
those falls representativs that cower behind there self erected walls.
But those walls won't hold us, we will batter them down,
like a storm we will come upon them and make them subjects to our righteous furry.
So I ask you are you willing to carry out his will?
>leave room for ethusiatic applause
(from our closer comrads the rest will join in)Now my brothers and sisters in spirit lets eat,
for we will need the strength for the days to come,
they might be days of hardship, days of trial but without a doubt
I can proclaim that we are going to triumph, for we are JUSTICE!
You dig in to your waffles (wait what) as you listen to the applause you're receiving. Your followers wait until you take the first bite to sit and eat.
You lean over to Gareth.
"So... what exactly should we be crusading against?"
"The Cinderfell Federation. We (that's the Sylph Empire) aren't on the best of terms with them, and they're suspected of having sent spies to steal our magical secrets."
"Good to know."

>[]Ask about the Sylph Empire.
>[]Ask about the Cinderfell Federation.
>[]Ask something else about the world.
>[]Finish breakfast and get to work. A good follower of Alagos is diligent.
>Ask about the cindefell Federeation
specificly prejudices
did they poison any wells recently or are they under suspicioun of replacing a baby with a shape shifter?
>>1195555 Nice quads
"It's mostly nationalism. There has been animosity between the two nations in the past, and they've both taken a hand in Ustrarian affairs recently. The Empire fancies itself the 'true home for all Sylph', but it's likely they'll dispense with that idiocy in time. Cinderfell is viewed as poorer, smaller, and less cultured than the Empire, yet they stand on even ground with us, mostly through military and technological prowess."
Huh. Sounds like WWI might happen soon. If it *does* happen, you could probably wreck shit with modern tactics.

>[]Perhaps we should focus on *reducing* animosity...
>[]Ask about something else.
>[]We need to get to cleaning out the second floor.
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>[]Perhaps we should focus on *increasing* animosity.
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"Hmm... I'm interested to see where this could lead."
Gareth coughs.
"Well... before that, there's the deep dragon in the room. That being finances. As a man skilled in fiscal relations, I recommend we get our hands on some funds. Crusades or concubines or whatever it is you've got planned aren't free."
He's right. You have a decent sum of money between the four of you, but nothing to sustain a religion. Your followers, though...

>[]A tithe will be implemented, at least until the Order is able to sustain itself.
>[]Can't rely on tithes. What can you do to get more money..? (Be creative)
>[]We will manage without money. (Lying is unbecoming of you, Krystal. For shame)
>>[]Can't rely on tithes. What can you do to get more money..? (Be creative)
perhaps deal with bandits. Maybe form a mercenary band that offers protection and transport
"We could offer sanctuary for bandits in exchange for their work. Maybe even rent them out."
Gareth nods.
"I know a few guys that'd probably take that deal."
Faervel clears her throat nervously.
"Uh, Krystal. I know we're not exactly good people, but... hiring bandits? Spreading chaos?"
What can you say? It's fun.
You stand again and address your followers.
"While you are all here, I will recite several doctrines that have been dictated to me by Lord Alagos. Is someone writing this down..? Good. First, all chapel maidens will wear collars as part of their official uniform. This is a tribute to Pris, a trusted servant of Alagos. Second, while our policies on free love will stand strong, we cannot condone abortion (also known as fetus deletus). All unplanned/unwanted children should be given to the Order for further care. Third, should Alagos appear to you in a dream or vision, you should report this directly to me. Yes, even if he asks you not to. ESPECIALLY if he asks you not to. Fourth--"
You lay out some more basic stuff just to make this feel like an actual religion. You just hope nobody drops off any orphans soon.

Breakfast is over, what do you do now?
>[]Go talk to those bandits (or send Gareth while you do other stuff)
>[]Time to clean out the second floor. By the way, all confiscated loot will be sold for religious dosh.
>[]Start training the more able-looking followers. Self-defense is a useful skill.
>[]Start training the more able-looking followers. Self-defense is a useful skill.
Use this opportunity to show them who is boss and why it is unwise to go against you.
"You four, come with me." You send everyone else up to cleanse the place, leading the new trainees over to the armory.
It's surprisingly not looted. Armor and weapons must've been to unwieldy for the degenerates to sell. There's a couple training weapons, too.
"Err, miss? What are we..."
You smile beneath your helmet.
"I'll be teaching you self-defense. You never know when it could be useful."
The orc blacksmith laughs.
"I think I can 'andle a lil krumpin', lady."
You toss him a training sword and pick up one for yourself.
"We'll see about that. Gods, this thing is too light..."

Roll 1d100 for krumpin'.
Rolled 52 (1d100)

Rolled 63 (1d100)

The orc immediately begins with a smashing blow from above. You put your sword up to block it, but almost get your head bashed in regardless. It was too strong a blow to block with a crappy length of balsa wood.
It's a close fight. You manage to smack the training sword away with a gauntlet and get in a sucker punch. Dirty hit, but all bets are off with orcs.
You grab your opponent's hand and lift him to his feet, not an easy task.
"You did pretty well--OH, HEAVY HEAVY HEAVY--but you overextended some of your strikes and telegraphed your attacks too much. I would've been dead if you had a mace and some experience."
You clear your throat.
"Pick up those training weapons! Doesn't matter which kind, we'll experiment until we find what fits you best."
You usher the trainees into the training hall.
"See these dummies? I want you to hit them, and I'll tell you what you're doing wrong."
You spend about an hour trying to explain to peasant folk why they shouldn't FUCKING start their swings behind their backs. Other than that, they're pretty decent.

>[]Hey, you want to take over? Like... forever? I can't personally train everyone anyway. (What do you do with your new free time?)
>[]Declare a 2v4 brawl (roll 1d100)
Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>[]Declare a 2v4 brawl (roll 1d100)
You hand Jaylen a stick and shout "Surprise!" while charging the trainees. Their superior numbers manage to drive you back, but your superior technique keeps both groups at deadlock.
"Why are we doing this?" Jaylen asks, fending off a barrage of sticks.
"Because I was bored as fuck."

Roll 1d20!
(Decided to simplify the dice rolling. Rolling a fifty (or a ten, now) basically puts you in deadlock)
Rolled 2 (1d20)

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It did not go well.
Your stick is just too light. You would've done way better with your sword, but then... death.
The trainee gank squad makes quick work of Jaylen, as well. You both struggle to your feet.
"Well... strength in numbers..." you gasp, trying desperately to look dignified.
"Jaylen, take over training..."
You power walk until you find an empty storage room before groaning and slamming your fist into the wall.
"Godsdammit, that stings."

What do you do now?
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*sigh*. Arbitrary 12-hour bump.
Do we have a healing spell yet? Try that if so
Oh, yeah. You do have a passive kind of thing. You wouldn't trust it to reattach your arm, but bruises and scrapes...
You cast the spell and close your eyes, feeling your veins tingle and reconnect. All's well. You roll your shoulders a few times and exit the bathroom.
It'll still be a few more hours until lunch. What do you do until then?

>[]Alagos, I have a slimy surprise for you~!
>[]Help with cleanup.
>[]See about getting some more... effective weapons. (You can see if anyone in the city is capable of making guns. Remember that magic's a thing, so gunpowder or even bullets might not be required)
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"The continent of Diubes is mostly controlled by two nations, the sprawling, arcane powerhouse known as the Sylph Empire, and the smaller but more resource-rich Cinderfell Federation. There are perhaps a dozen smaller nations scattered about, huddling under the protective umbrella of one superpower or another. Most prominent among these are Salamandria, a swampy expanse to the south, and Ustraria, quite literally surrounded by stronger forces on all sides. The poor nation is landlocked by the Empire and the Federation, and it's government is almost certainly more foreign than local at this point."
(I guess I'll write lore when bumping the thread)
>Help with cleanup.
You go upstairs and start helping clean out all the filth.
Several magically-inclined people were using spells to scour the walls and floor clean after all the debris was cleared. All the junk was sorted from valuables and placed in a large pile for transmutation into something more useful.
One of your followers brings you a scrap of moldy paper, with a barely legible symbol on it.
"We found this under a loose board in the offices. It's almost certainly the combination for the vault underneath the stronghold."
You thank the adept and carefully put the paper in your pocket.

>[]Well, let's go see what's in there!
>[]One of the degenerates living here probably cracked it months ago. Let's keep cleaning up.
>Well, let's go see what's in there!
You head down into the basement, which holds a few cages and the vault. You have an interesting time with the lock. No number lock, you instead have to arrange tiles to correspond to the symbol on the mildewed paper. There were a number of similar pieces, and they could definitely be connected in more ways then one. Probably superior to a combination lock.
You eventually open up the door and take a peek inside. It's... well, it's not terrible. Judging from the disarray, the previous owners grabbed what they could carry and booked it when their god died. There's still a decent amount of money to be had, and even a few presumably enchanted items. Prominently among them was a grappling hook with a pretty long reach (maybe even infinite, the rope disappears into a pouch). There is also a normal-looking (if a little rusty) iron ring, a small whistle with a dragon carved into the face, a strange-looking axe carved from some sort of whitish rock, and some books on spatial magic.
You take the items and lock the vault, taking a picture of the symbol and destroying the mildewed paper.

>[]Study up on magic. Dimensional stuff is always nice to have. (Roll 1d20)
>[]Faervel uses an axe, doesn't she..?
>[]Screw around with the whistle.
>[]Cleanup, lunch, more cleanup, bed.
Rolled 8 (1d20)

>Study up on magic. Dimensional stuff is always nice to have. (Roll 1d20)
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(This is like three or four failures at dimensional magic now)
You retire to your room and practice dimensional magic again.
Let's see... visualize the object and place... here we--OH GOD NO
You grab your sword and hack at a tentacle that had emerged from a dimensional rift. You don't care if it would've given you eldritch knowledge or whatever.
The thing falls to the floor and writhes, spurting ichor everywhere. Eeeeeeew.
The stump retreats back into it's hellish realm to cry to Cthulhu or whatever, and you close the portal.
Maybe you're not cut out for this...

>[]It's just a matter of time. Keep trying. (D20)
>[]Go give Faervel her new axe, see if you can seduce her while you're at it. (D20 for seduction)
>[]Freak someone out with the tentacle. Might as well do it before Alagos does it to you.
>[]Play something on your new whistle. What does this even do..?
Rolled 10 (1d20)

>It's just a matter of time. Keep trying. (D20)
You try again, opening another rift in space. It seems stable enough...
The rift begins to close, and you jam your hands in to try and reopen it.

Roll 1d20!
File: IMG_1020.jpg (37 KB, 547x332)
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Rolled 1 (1d20)


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