Resistance Quest 1

I do my best. Hopefully I'll be able to keep this going and going at a good quality.

That's actually correct.

Plus, I refuse to be crowded off the board, because of the efforts of quest-haters. /qst/ was not made for or by questfags; none of us wanted it and I refuse to be herded into a fucking gulag because some people didn't want to work the stick out of their ass-

But I've already made my position on that entirely clear before.

>Iwo Malinowski, a former police officer fighting for his country (+1 Combat Skill)

Oo hey RWB! Gonna miss this thread probably, but will read in archive!

You are funny guy

>I do my best. Hopefully I'll be able to keep this going and going at a good quality
Hey, anything is better then me dropping quests all the time like I did with WHQ.

>Enzo Aloisi, a student with a long history of political activism (+1 Fellowship)

>Enzo Aloisi, a student with a long history of political activism (+1 Fellowship)

Always good to see your quests, RWB.
Don't tell our fascist overlords, but I completely support your decision to stay on Veeky Forums. Fuck /qst/.

>Enzo Aloisi, a student with a long history of political activism (+1 Fellowship)
Leadership and talking to the right folks is always more important then shooting people in ad-hoc resistance movements.

>Anne Lawrence, an ordinary girl who's brother was shot in the fighting (+1 Luck)

>Enzo Aloisi, a student with a long history of political activism (+1 Fellowship)

>Enzo Aloisi, a student with a long history of political activism (+1 Fellowship)

Wow that is a LOT of responses! I guess this kind of quest is WAY more popular than my civ ones!

Writing!

>no engineer class with a bonus to building barricades and traps

>>Felix Maurer, a museum employee intellectually opposed to the Federation's propaganda (+1 Wits)

>Plus, I refuse to be crowded off the board
Jesus christ son.

>felix
Just cause I want to make magical molotovs

hurrrrrr

"Enzo, let's go," your brother hisses to you, before sprinting across the street behind the backs of the vanishing soldiers. You hurry after your co-worker, your hands gripping the revolver he handed you earlier perhaps a bit too tightly. You throw yourself into the shadows, your heart pounding from the worry that just one of the Federation's men would have turned around and shot you dead on the spot. Breaking curfew was bad enough, but carrying a weapon and headed straight for a restricted area would have you up against a wall and eating lead faster than you could blink! Karlo notices your white knuckles and shaking grip as you lean against the wall and lays his hand on yours.
"Relax, brother," he smiles thinly. "You'll throw off your aim if you keep trying to strangle it like that." Karlo used to hunt grouse before the war, while you were always more at home in the university's common room, hotly debating the shifting tides of politics, while he was out in the field with a hunting gun. "Remember what I taught you. Finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire." To the rest of your group, his voice is calm, but you've known your little brother his entire life and you can detect the faint tremor of nerves in his voice. Despite being more at home with the heavy, sickening metal in your hands than you, his heart's jumping like a rabbit at the thought of what will happen to you if you're caught!

You argued against even being armed. It would have been easier on you all, if you were caught, but the others were having none of it. Triss's youngest wasn't even 14, but the shell that brought the house down on him didn't care. The ice-cold venom in her voice when she supported bringing the few firearms you've been able to scavenge, sent a chill down even your spine. You'd hate to be the soldier who met her six-shooter or kitchen knife.

Your target is just ahead; during the winter the Federation had occupied the capitol, their officers had taken a particular liking to a certain brasserie overlooking the river. The owner had practically welcomed them and while you'd like to think it's out of survival instinct, your companions are less forgiving for the 'traitor'. So it was that you'd concocted your plan. Paul glances to Harken, as he hurries and nearly drops the bundle in his arms.
"Careful with that," the sweep hisses, "Kings and Queens, I don't want us to go up with it-!"
"Relax," Harken sighs. "It's fine. The timer's not even attached yet."
The makeshift bomb was only blackpowder and nails, but it would do its job well. The occupiers had immediately secured anything like mining or military explosives, but fireworks had been slightly lower on their list. Harken had managed to steal away a few boxes, before the soldiers had got around to taking the rest. A pocket watch hooked up to a tinderbox served as the primitive detonator and once it's in position, the whole thing should be set to blow around lunch time, just as its targets arrived, looking for their smoked pork and beer.

The shop is, of course, boarded up tight for the evening. Your breath mists in the chill air rolling off the river, as Paul tugs at the locked gate preventing you from getting to the back.
"Come on you piece of- It's not moving."
"Let me try," you suggest. Anything to keep your fingers moving and you're feeling damn exposed out here on the street.

What do you do?
>Hop over the fence and try to open it from the far side (+1 Agility)
>Try and just break the lock with a swift shoulder barge (+1 Body)
>Tinker with the lock and see if you can pick it (+1 Wits)
>See if the owner's left a window open you can slip through (+1 Luck)

>See if the owner's left a window open.
Fellowship and Luck seem like it would be a good combination, getting friends and nerrowly escaping danger.

/qst/ must die.

>>Tinker with the lock and see if you can pick it (+1 Wits)

>tinker

>Tinker with the lock and see if you can pick it (+1 Wits)

>>See if the owner's left a window open you can slip through (+1 Luck)
This or the wits option seems like its going to be especially helpful for our character down the line.

I'm noticing slowdown. That's probably not good. Calling the votes now to keep it fresh.

Can you guys please move this to your board? I mean it's an entirely new quest, not an ongoing series already established here.

there is an entire board for these now. go there.

/qst/ is not "our board", none of the questfags want it, and none of the quest participants want it. It's a bad concept made by mods that didn't listen to the community.

>Tinker with the lock and see if you can pick it (+1 Wits)

You hustle Paul to one side and take a look at the lock.
"Doesn't look too difficult. Hey, pass me a nail, will you?" You slip the small spike against the lock and tug off your shoe, smacking it home with a solid tap. A swift wrench and the cheap lock snaps open. "That did it. Okay, hustle."
Just as you predicted, the door to the kitchen is unlocked, allowing you easy access. Harken stealthily makes his way to the front of the shop and slips the bomb under the roller that houses the blinds covering the front of the shop. He has to stand on one of the tables to do it however and works the bulky package back and forth.
"Faster would be better," mutters Karlo, "What's the hold-up?"
"It's too big," your would-be bomb expert replies, "There's not enough of a gap to worm it in; the damn thing'll be sticking out if I leave it like this!"
"Well then make some room already," grits your brother, glancing around the blinds to watch for soldiers.
"I'm trying, I'm trying."
As Harken yanks at the shutter to try and shift it and gain some space for the bomb, you suddenly wander what's above the store front. Don't the owners typically live over a place like this-?
"Harken, wait a-" you begin, but suddenly, you're all caught in the light of a lantern and freeze in shock.
"Hey! Who the hell are you? What are you at-?"

The owner is a fat, balding man currently in his night-shirt and little more, with an oil lamp in one hand and a large, knobbly in the other. For a moment, no-one knows what to say, but then, Karlo goes for him with a silent look of desperation in his eyes. The owner gives a shout and swings his club, battering your brother's head and sending him reeling drunkenly before you and Triss can leap to restrain him. As Karlo staggers back however, he trips over the corner of one of the tables and falls, grabbing at the blind and pulling it down behind him with a crash.

For a moment, none of you even notice... But then the feeble light of the dropped lamp is joined by the harsher glare from outside.
"Hey! You in there! Freeze!"
You glance back and your blood runs cold. Of all the times for a patrol to be passing-! The corporal holds the electric flashlight high, the bulb bathing you all white light, while the men beside him raise their rifles. Your eyes slide to Triss, but before you can even shout a warning, she raises her pistol. The shot rings out, deafening in the small space of the brasserie, shattering the glass of the window. The sound is lost however, as the soldiers return fire. Federation rifles can fire as fast as their wielder can pull the trigger and the soldiers are well-drilled. At the close range, Harken never stood a chance. Bullets rip through him, spraying blood across the polished tables and floor, just as the screaming starts. Paul bolts immediately, drawing more fire, as the owner tries to scramble out of the way. Karlo barks a single word.
"Run!"

You scramble up and bolt for the door, the pistol tucked into your pants forgotten as you sprint for freedom. You practically fall over Paul, who yells and curses as you stumble across him.
"My leg-! Sons of bitches, they got my leg!"
Karlo pushes you towards the fence, where the garbage cans make for a way over, before dashing after you.
"No! Don't-!"
You look back to see what your brother's shouting about, but it's too late. Your eyes widen as you see Triss stoop to help your fallen comrade, raising her pistol and snapping off a couple of shots as the soldiers kick open the gate. One falls, clutching at his stomach, before the embittered mother's head caves in, a heavy rifle round punching through her jaw and out the back of her neck.

Anybody play roguelikes here? I've been enjoying Elona+ lately. Though I suppose that's more of a roguelike-like.

Your stomach churns, as she dies with a choking scream, then your brother's hand meets your arse and pushes you over, before he follows, tumbling behind in an ungainly heap. You scramble on all fours for a moment before you find your footing, as you see a helmeted head and the barrel of a rifle appear over the fence. Karlo fires, but his shots go wide and you hear the patrol leader shouting to go around, as a piercing whistle splits the night.
"The river!" Karlo snarls, as he struggles to re-load and swears violently as the rounds spill from his fingers. "The waterfront's our only chance! Move!"

The pair of you sprint for the river, hurrying down the steps to the small jetties where private row-boats are moored.
"They'll pick us off if we try to row for it!" you gasp, your blood pounding in your temples. "Just keep running-!"
You and Karlo sprint for your lives, but your brother suddenly grabs your shoulder and hauls you to a stop as a second flashlight glare dances in front of you, a second squad hurrying to cut off your escape.
"There's no-where else... Hold your breath, Enzo-!"
The water is bitterly freezing and you can feel your limbs going numb after mere seconds of splashing in. You and Karlo tread water beneath the boards, as the patrol draws closer. Their language is only slightly unrelated from your own... You can tell they won't be fooled by your vanishing act for long and your sodden clothes are already starting to weigh on you.

Karlo's eyes meet yours and you know what he's planning to do. You open your mouth to object, but he presses a hand over it before you can speak. "Wait for them to chase me," he whispers, "Then get as far away as you can; out of the city if you have to. Try to get yourself and our parents out of the country." You want to shake your head, to deny what's happening, but you can't. Karlo's mind is set. "I love you, big brother."
He smiles sadly and swims away, vanishing into the dark. After a few moments of choking back the stinging hot tears in your eyes, you can hear the splash as he hauls himself out of the icy river. Shouting soldiers order him to halt, but he responds with a yell and the crack of a revolver. The soldiers aren't slow in giving their response, but your brother runs, leading them away from you.

Just as you're about to emerge from hiding, you hear the tread of feet and the creak of boards over your head. You look up and blink away a little dirt that falls in your eye, your stomach sinking. One of the soldiers is still sweeping the docks!

What do you do?
>Try and tough out the cold and fatigue until he leaves (+1 Body)
>Shoot him through the boards, relying on the rifles in the distance to mask your shot (+1 Ranged Skill)
>Try and slip out silently behind his back (+1 Agility)
>Try and mimic a fellow soldier calling for backup elsewhere. Maybe the odd echos around the waterfront will fool him? (+1 Fellowship)

>>Shoot him through the boards, relying on the rifles in the distance to mask your shot (+1 Ranged Skill)

>Try and mimic a fellow soldier calling for backup elsewhere. Maybe the odd echos around the waterfront will fool him? (+1 Fellowship)

Let's play to our strengths?

>Shoot him through the boards, relying on the rifles in the distance to mask your shot (+1 Ranged Skill)

>>Try and mimic a fellow soldier calling for backup elsewhere. Maybe the odd echos around the waterfront will fool him? (+1 Fellowship)
We need to boost this.

How about some music to fit the setting:
youtube.com/watch?v=S34cVkL6zCE

This is kind of a character-creation setting, hence why there's no rolls required yet. But if you want to focus your stats, that's just fine.

Magnificent. I couldn't find anything that exactly fit what I was looking for, but this is perfect at least for this first session.

No-one else? Well the votes are tied, which means if there isn't a breaker in the next five to ten minutes, I'll flip a coin for it.

Also, as always, this thread will go overnight, as my time zone is inconvenient at best.

>>Try and mimic a fellow soldier calling for backup elsewhere. Maybe the odd echos around the waterfront will fool him? (+1 Fellowship)

>>Try and mimic a fellow soldier calling for backup elsewhere. Maybe the odd echos around the waterfront will fool him? (+1 Fellowship)

There we go. Votes called for the next part.

You really don't want to risk shooting the man. You can already imagine the shock of the pistol; his body falling; his blood seeping through the cracks in the jetty and staining your face and hair... Would it even fire while it was wet? Would your fingers be able to grip it? But you can't just wait here, so... You only have one chance. You do your best to keep your voice from shaking from both cold and fear and try to imitate a Federation accent.
"Hey-!" Too quiet; your nerves are getting to you. "Hey, I think there's one more over here! Up here, thickhead, move it! In the alley!"
For a moment, you think you've given the game away, that you're going to die here, in the freezing, filthy water under the jetty... Then the soldier turns and double-times away, hurrying to his imagined comrade. Whether it's luck, or your own efforts, you can't be sure, but you're grateful all the same.

You wait as long as you can to be doubly-sure he's gone, before you can stand it no longer. It feels like you're lifting a horse's extra weight as you pull yourself out of the river with a heave. You lie, shivering on the planks, chest heaving for breath for as long as you dare, before you pull yourself up and wipe your eyes. You can't go yet- What if Karlo managed to get away? You heave yourself up and stumble in the direction he fled, following the voices. You manage to remain un-noticed, leaning behind a chimney in a dark alleyway, while you watch the small group in the street ahead. Poor Paul's there, leaning against a wall, struggling to remain upright with his hands on his head, while two soldiers menace him with rifles.

For a moment, you dare to hope that your brother got away - that you might find him back at your apartment, waiting for you with a smile and warm soup- But then your heart falls as you see him dragged between two burly men in Federation grey-blue coats and helmets. His eye is swollen and red and blood oozes from his forearm, but he's alive... For how much longer though?

"No papers on him, sir," you hear one of the soldiers report, "No identification of any kind."
"Were you part of a larger group?" the man in charge asks your brother directly, but Karlo just keeps a sullen silence. "It will go easier for you if you name your co-conspirators. I'll see to it you're well-treated if you help-"
"Not a chance in hell," Karlo scowls through broken teeth, "You and all your men can rot on a shit-heap before I help you."
"Very well," nods the officer, not even missing a beat. "Up against the wall with the other."
You watch helplessly as your brother is placed against the wall and made to stand with his hands on his head. Only now does he let tears burn his cheeks. Paul is quietly praying.
"Take aim!" Half a dozen rifles swing up and you find yourself torn between horrid fascination and looking away. "Fire!"
Six shots bark out as one rippling crack and your brother and friend slump, their blood staining the bricks behind them. The soldiers take the corpse's coats and drape them over their faces, leaving the bodies to be picked up by an army coroner.

You can't stay. You can't say your last farewells to your brother, or Paul, or any of the group. You have to get away before your wet footprints are spotted and traced. You stagger from shadow to shadow, fleeing the restricted area, back to your now-lonely apartment you shared with Karlo, on University Road. In your state, it's a miracle no-one sees you creep inside, stumble up to your room and bolt the door, before collapsing, exhausted onto your bed.

Damn, you do know how to write them RWB

In late October last year, the Eortite Federation had declared war on your home country of Awsbet. Less than eight hours later, mechanised Federation divisions were streaming across the border and crushing any resistance the Awsbet Republican Army could muster. Although everyone had known war was coming, no-one had expected it so soon, or so devastatingly. As every engagement went the Federation's way, it had almost seemed unreal as war swept through the country like a typhoon, striking down everything in its path. Few last stands by the scattered Awsbet brigades had lasted more than a matter of days and even dug into cities, the under-equipped and rapidly demoralised defenders had stood little chance. Even in the capitol, the enemy hadn't been held for more than long enough for the Premier and government to evacuate.

Winter had slowed the fighting, of course and allowed the few remaining soldiers outside of the occupied zone a chance to rally, but the situation was beyond dire. Within the capitol city, ammunition, fuel, food and warm clothes soon ran low and rather than draw out the suffering of the civilian population, the garrison had surrendered. You were part of the small crowd that watched fearfully from windows and sidewalks, as the victorious Federation shock troops had paraded through Constitution Square. A month later, just as the first green buds of spring were starting to show, word came that the Premier had surrendered. The war was officially over.

The Republican Army was immediately disarmed and the police replaced by martial law. The occupiers were ruthless and un-opposed, as the new military commissioner took charge of an interim government 'while the newly annexed territories acclimatised to their new role as Federation citizens'. That hadn't sat well with many and as the initial shock of the occupation wore off, you and your brother had been among the many scattered and disunited citizens that first began to dream of resistance.

Now, Karlo is dead. You have nothing left but the single revolver he pressed into your hands and enough bullets to maybe scare the scenery. Your group is dead, you are sick and shivering and have maybe enough food to last you a week, if the soldiers don't smash down your door in the meantime and drag you out to be shot like a dog in the streets.

You only hope your brother is in a better place now. Maybe the Kings and Queens of Old Eorten received him, or maybe there was nothing but the cold hard ground. Either way... The future of your resistance looks bleak.

But even as you sniffle and shake under your blankets and sob the last of your tears for everyone and everything you and your country has lost... A burning, bitter spark ignites in your chest. One way or another, your brother's death and the deaths of Harken, Triss and Paul will not be in vain. One way or another, they WILL mean something. Of that, there is no doubt in your feverish mind.

This is only the beginning.

I do my best. I feel like I have a bit more to work with here, than writing pre-history.

If anyone has any tips, please feel free to offer them. Suggestions I take this to /qst/ will be politely ignored.

And that is it for this evening! We'll be re-commencing as soon as I wake up, but it's 3AM here and I need to hit the hay a little. I hope everyone enjoyed this and the quest is still alive in a few hours.

Please let me know what you think so far! Next, the story of the resistance really gets started.

This was great man, it was fun to see you write about things other than carving rocks.

OP still here?

He said he was sleeping, just keep the thread bumped in the mean time.

Bumpity

Bump

You're tucked under your blankets for six days, alternately sneezing, shivering and hallucinating. At times, it seems like everything is normal; there's no foreign army outside and Karlo is laughing at your misfortune for falling in the river, joking and bringing you warm food. At other times, your head pounds as you see the freshly-dead figures of your comrades glaring accusingly at you, silently demanding to know why you didn't join them in death. When you squeeze your eyes shut and try to block them out, you hear the boom of distant artillery and the sporadic crackle of gunfire streets away; echoes left over from the siege. You have barely enough strength each day to crawl out of your bed and light the stove and your meager supply of soup tins and rapidly-going-stale bread soon dwindles to almost nothing.

Finally, you're well enough to stand, if not especially strong and you're able to take stock of your situation. Karlo's bed stands empty and cold; you didn't dream his execution. Lying on the table in front of you is your pistol; a local-made revolver, not as modern as that of other countries and certainly not a match for the Federation's weapons, but it's more than most of your disarmed countrymen have. You have 24 rounds and the chamber holds six. Knowing your marksmanship and the fact that practicing will not only eat into your limited ammo supply, but bring the military police down on your head, the pistol is probably only any good as a threat, or at point-blank range. Besides your weapon, you have maybe enough food for another week. Your little brother's death at least means that you can make use of his ration card and the food he'll no-longer eat. You'll say this much for the invaders; after the occupation, they weren't slow to set up rationing to make sure there was minimal disruption to the city's food supply. Besides that, you have only the few possessions of university students in a city that is no-longer their own.

It's time to make plans
>Try to lay low. The military police are probably still looking for you and you're in no state to be out and about. Instead, use the time to plan and grow stronger
>Find out what's going on. Talk to those students who didn't flee the city and put out feelers. Information is power, after all
>You're just one man and alone, you can't do much of anything. You need to find out if there's anyone left in the city who's got the balls and the guns to fight
>They took your brother and your friends. Someone is going to die for that
>Toe the line and see how close you can get to the occupiers. After all, keep your friends close and your enemies within knife-reach

>>You're just one man and alone, you can't do much of anything. You need to find out if there's anyone left in the city who's got the balls and the guns to fight
Time to employ our Fel score.

...

How about no. I'm not going to a board that the people it was intended for neither asked for, nor wanted. It was made by anti-questfags as a gulag and I'm not going.

Besides, this is Resistance Quest. Geddit?

Keeping the thread alive until people wake up

Go to /qst/, you fucking cancer.

>Find out what's going on. Talk to those students who didn't flee the city and put out feelers. Information is power, after all
>You're just one man and alone, you can't do much of anything. You need to find out if there's anyone left in the city who's got the balls and the guns to fight

See and listen what is happening and try to hear their true opinions, not the opinion you say to strangers and occupiers.

Okay, whatever, two will do for now. I hate living in a different time zone to most of my players.

YOU HAVE A FUCKING BOARD FOR THIS SHIT NOW, GET THE FUCK OUT

...

One player here, timezones are bitches. So annoying to life in eastern europe and trying to catch quests live.

'Straya here, welcome to my nightmare

...

Posts telling a quest to GTFO are just getting deleted. Sooner or later, a mod will get tired of it and ban someone at random. Do you want to be that person?

Get a hobby. Why not play?

Why not get the fuck out?

You're not the only stubborn cunt here, m80. And I have a lot of patience when it comes to antagonizing pretentious fuckwits who won't fuck off to their containment board out of spite.

He still isn't half as stubborn as the bitchy faggots who keep telling questfags to go to /qst/, you can give him that much.

The remains of your influenza still haunt you as you shuffle through the streets. Next to how things were before the war, they're still largely deserted. Almost two people in three fled when it became clear the war would come to their doorstep. People are slowly trickling back now the fighting's over, but at the current rate, it'll be months or even years before the population recovers completely. Your own parents live in a small, unimportant village some miles from the capitol, who's only strategic value is a really good local lamb hotpot, so at least you know they're not likely to be harmed, even if you've not heard from them since the siege started. Your stomach growls just at the memory of the savory meat and vegetables, or the way your mother used to grate a little cheese over the top, so it'd melt and turn brown in the oven-

Okay, fuck your plans. You need food.

You pull your ration card from your pocket and sigh at the pitifully small amount it; enough to live on, but not well, by any means. Those found hoarding food or growing their own in small, backyard plots, were fined heavily, or even sent to the military internment camps, alongside the disarmed army. You scowl as you join the breadline at the corner shop, amid a throng of other, similarly-ravenous university students. At least you don't have to worry about classes until your lecturers return. It's hard to gauge the mood, as everyone converses in a low voice and grows fearfully silent as a patrol swings past. You can understand why; if they were suspected of plotting against the Federation, it wouldn't take much evidence to have them hauled away to a cell or a firing squad. Still, these are your friends and classmates. If you're careful about how you do it, you might just be able to find out something useful...

>Roll 2d20+3 (Base+ Fellowship) to find if anyone is willing to fight

Rolling!

Its not bitchy to tell someone to go to the board that WAS MADE FOR THESE THREADS.

>someone posts a gun thread on /an/
>everyone tells them to fuck off to /k/
>STUBBORN ASSHOLES, I JUST WANT TO HAVE MY THREAD.

I'm sick of seeing page 0 be all quests and we finally have a containment board for you idiots, so please, for the good of Veeky Forums, leave.

...

>he's a QM
>on the internet
>on a traditional games board
>he does it for free
>he takes his "political statement" very seriously
>he does it because it is the only amount of power & control he will ever have in his pathetic life
>he reports posts he doesn't like because whenever he gets upset he has an asthma attack
>he reports posts he doesn't like because they interfere with the large backlog of little girl chinese cartoon waifus he still has to write trash erotica about for other questfags to smack it to
>he will never have a real job
>he will never move out of his parent's house
>he will never be at a healthy weight
>he will never know how to cook anything besides a hot pocket
>he will never have a girlfriend
>he will never have any friends

Rolled 16, 10 + 3 = 29 (2d20 + 3)

for fuck sake, why didn't I realize that I failed in my roll

Attention anti-quest posters

Thank you sincerely for keeping the thread bumped so my regular players can find it easily. It means a lot.

Honestly, starting a new quest is always worrying. You have to craft a coherent narrative; worry about your rules being balanced; do the necessary background work; find pictures; cope with shitposters and unexpected twists; fret over if you'll have enough players...

It's a huge help to know that at least some people are willing to take five minutes of their lives to help out a complete stranger and make his life easier.

Have a great day all of you!
Best regards,
Red White and Britfag

>little girl chinese cartoon waifus
Okay, I know you've read the thread, because you've registered I was making a statement... So how the hell do you equate a battle between the not-the-French-resistance-honest and totally-not-the-Nazis, wherein the first thread has literally everyone the main character cares about killed, while his own skills can do nothing to avert it... With anime erotica?

>Honestly, starting a new quest is always worrying. You have to craft a coherent narrative; worry about your rules being balanced; do the necessary background work; find pictures; cope with shitposters and unexpected twists; fret over if you'll have enough players...
Not my problem homo go to your own shit board

Oh and just to correct the rest of your shit...
>I'm in training for a security license
>I live alone
>I'm actually underweight
>I routinely cook for the house, including cordon bleu (okay I only know one dish that fancy, but still)
>I've had a girlfriend, whom I broke up with about five months ago
>And I'm the go-to guy for everyone I know who has problems and needs a friend to trust

And I've not reported a single post. You guys do this to yourselves.

No thanks! Besides, you guys clearly like this quest here, at least enough to keep it bumped!

I'm not bumping your shit thread, I always sage unless my post contributes something to a thread worth contributing to. I dont get why you don't just move. You're gonna get banned and then you're gonna whine and cry about the corrupt mods. If you just fucked off to the shiny new quest board, there would be no problem. Your gay ass quest would go on, and you might actually get more than one player. But you just feel like shitting up the board with your temper tantrum.

Rolled 9, 20 + 3 = 32 (2d20 + 3)

Oh man I sure do love a good shitpost in the morning, we have a containment board for that too, don't we?

Students have always been one of the greatest sources of political activity in Awsbet. It was students that first pushed for the democratic reforms that lead to the birth of the nation. Finding those unsatisfied with the occupation is a snap; finding those willing to risk their lives to fight it however, is distinctly less so. Protesting for equal voting rights for land-owners and commoners alike is one thing, but fighting a war against an army that crushed your nation's soldiers is quite another! Still... You do hear a rumor or two. The Democratic Society has disbanded after so many of its members fled the city, but those few that remained are angry and there's talk of possible resistance from that quarter. As is to be predicted, it doesn't sound like they have much in the way of direction, plans or security, but it's something. If nothing else, isn't there safety in numbers? And you know some of the members too, so it shouldn't be hard to win some trust, if you want to put yourself in danger like that.

As the line moves on and you collect your bread, you consider your options. After your last disaster, are small groups like this, with more good and patriotic intentions than capabilities, really a good idea? Apart from anything else, the information wasn't hard to get ahold of. All it would take is one person going to the country's new authorities and the remainder of the Democratic Society could be up against the wall of the university courtyard! Then again, at least they're a group and your own resources sure aren't going to win a war alone.

What will you do?
>Go and find the Democratic Society. They're your best bet right now and maybe there's more to them than the rumors.
>See if you can recruit some of the angrier students to your own group. You have more experience than any of them anyway.
>Go it alone. If you've learned anything, it's that a group is just a liability and you don't want to drag anyone else down if you fuck up.
>These kids are a goldmine of potential intel! Their scope may be limited to the area around the campus, but a few hundred extra eyes and ears can't hurt. See what you can learn about the occupiers activities.

Heading to my tabletop game now. I'll be back later this evening. Don't feed the shitposters too much, everyone!

>These kids are a goldmine of potential intel! Their scope may be limited to the area around the campus, but a few hundred extra eyes and ears can't hurt. See what you can learn about the occupiers activities.
Any Intel we can get will be useful.

>Go it alone. If you've learned anything, it's that a group is just a liability and you don't want to drag anyone else down if you fuck up.
>These kids are a goldmine of potential intel! Their scope may be limited to the area around the campus, but a few hundred extra eyes and ears can't hurt. See what you can learn about the occupiers activities.

Be careful and get intel. Try to possibly find somebody to trust, but now just be careful

Have fun in your game night!

Also glad we are still live from yesterday (or at least it was yesterday here), I'm on the west coast of the US so ...

my fellow pacific rimer

>These kids are a goldmine of potential intel! Their scope may be limited to the area around the campus, but a few hundred extra eyes and ears can't hurt. See what you can learn about the occupiers activities.
>These kids are a goldmine of potential intel! Their scope may be limited to the area around the campus, but a few hundred extra eyes and ears can't hurt. See what you can learn about the occupiers activities.

Best we maintain control of the situation, get intel, recruit those that work out, maybe see if these democratic society people are for real or if they are just armchair revolutionaries. But also keep our distance, if I was the big bad not!Gestapo and i wanted to root our potential fifth columnists first thing I'd do is insert a pretty girl into a university group that espoused 'democratic principals'.

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supporting

also bump