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Here's the chart if you guys fancy a vanilla civilization game anyway.

>>1558757
You still here op?

>>1558767
Yep

>>1558770
I vote Idea 2.

>>1558767
Idea 2 is solid

>>1558771
I like idea two

>>1558770
Idea 2. A Race of undead or Vampires slowly undermining a city from the sewers.

Still alive op?

a small idea, why not have each of us take a small head for example, I will be a master hunter of food, another master of stealth and so on, we each help the tribe in our own way? good idea, bad?

Yes, I am still alive. So we'll be playing as the denizens of an undercity. Who, exactly, shall we be playing as?

>>1558910
I think vamps might be nice if we are taking my suggestion of players being different roles, otherwise I'm not sure

>>1558910
>>1558913
Vampires is a popular and unferstandable choice, but another part pf me is charmed at the thought pf underground sewer winged gorillas

>>1558751
>low tech scifi kobolds surviving in crashed space hulk
Would had been perfect.

But as it is sewers seem more popular...I'll drawn an wild card and suggest Skum if we go with sewer.
>Ageless, kidnappers, rising water level for our advange

With the 2nd option are we playing as a hive mind or just as a very organized communist-like Civ?

Vamps vamps vamps. Hasn't been a good vampire quest in FOREVER.

Is thread kill?

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We can do this.


You were a weak man in life. A grave-digger in the city of Cered, your duties extending barely further than to cover the corpses of the paupers unable to afford mausoleums in earth. You spent your days a shivering pauper yourself, subsisting on mere pennies for weeks, and leaving the necropolis of the city so rarely as to find the rest of the city alien. When the days of the shivering sickness came, your work grew more rapid, and more luctrative, until you had amassed a small horde of pilfered grave goods. You were happy while the people of the merchant's district shuddered themselves to their graves, until you yourself took ill. The agony filled you to the brim, and you saw naught but blurring blood and mud for weeks.

On one cold, dank evening, soon after the shivering sickness passed, you pulled a body from the corpse-cart, and found, to your horror, that the body below it was not still, but moving, grasping out into the light and hissing. The corroded finery of the living corpse was caked in immense quantities of blood, and you wretched at the scent of the viscous soup of carved flesh, giving the creature time to lash out at you. It's biting claws held you down, and its serpentine jaw snapped closed on your neck. Your thoughts fell into blackness as you thrashed helplessly under its grip, and you fell into a half conscious fever.

You do not know how long passed as your form twisted, your mind and body alike contorting into a vicious, predatory state, but by the time you awoke, the city had been choked by the sweltering heat of summer. You finally awoke, lieing in a pile of gore, the air filled with the suspended scent of congealed blood. You were once weak, but now your strength cannot be bound. You feel the twisting shudder of your new-grown muscles, and your mind flickers with an inescapable cunning. No matter how much you have eaten, you are ravenous.

>You currently reside within a small shanty, deep in the necropolis, a walled off graveyard, separated from the city. You have been contorted into a strange new form, your bones growing stronger, and your sickly frame becoming knotted with muscle, capable of bursts of energy. Fangs chitter in your mouth, and your now bat-like eyes have sight beyond that of a normal man. Until you properly feed, however, you cannot know the extent of your abilities.

>Hunt for gravediggers, pitiful creatures as you once were?
>Devour Corpses? Poor food, but sufficient to grow your strength?
>Search for a more suitable residence? A Mausoleum or family crypt?
>Something Else?

1d100 for actions, best of three, usual stuff.

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>1559620
>Hunt for gravediggers, pitiful creatures as you once were?

Isolated targets are the easiest.

Any other anons want to roll?

>>1559708
>still reading, but have your roll

Rolled 63 (1d100)

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>88, High Quality Success! + Doubles

You clamber up from the pile of gore, launching on newly strengthened tendons out into the cooling evening. Your rags cling to you, soaked in blood, and you dart between hiding places. Your eyes sweep the landscape of tombstones, bound only by the occasional ridge, ditch, mausoleum or patch of darkening sycamore trees. The walls of the Necropolis loom in the distance, but in the darkness the sickly old militiamen consigned to corpseyard duty will never see your prowling frame. You pounce forward, running on four legs before rising to look around, like some ancient predator, emerging from primordial grasslands.

You feel a power in you incomprehensible to who you once were. You are a predator, and all the world is now your prey. You feel the nails of your clammy, bloodied hands bristle, sharpened, held on new-grown knuckles. After a short while, you arrive at another hut, similar to your own, the home of one of your former fellow, with whom you shared many an evening. Firelight shimmers out from under the old, half rotten wood of her doorway, the dilapidated shanty barely holding out the elements. She hums to herself within the place, smoke billowing out from a chimney, and the smells of fresh food rolling out the shuttered windows.

>What will you do first?

>Spring up to the roof and dive in through the flimsy tiles? (d100. Risks landing in the fire)

>Spy through the shutters and leap in? (d100+5)

>Tap on the door and call on her to let you in, and then ambush her? (d100-5, Offers the best chance to catch her alive)

Rolled 36 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>1559789
>Look through the shutters and wait for a chance

Rolled 19 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>1559789
>>Spy through the shutters and leap in

Also, good to see you Cursed, I love your Xenomorph Quest

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>>1559816
>>1559822

>41 Narrow Failure

You move forward on all fours, your claws sinking into the rich muddy loam of the earth. As you draw closer, your newly pointed ears flick up, hearing her footsteps on the scattered wooden tiling, then her chair creak slightly as she takes her seat, until finally you hear each breath.

You can smell every scent in a way you never thought possible, from the scattered dust of the shutters to the rotting straw in her dilapidated bedstead. Your eyes peer through a crack in the wooden shutters, and to your surprise you see her stood at the shutters.

Her breath had been so new to you that you could not hone in on its position. Before you can react, she opens the shutters, a smile on her broad, ruddy young face quickly shattered by the sight of your pallid, blood drenched frame

She stares in horror for a moment, and you have a chance to act in the split second before she does, your uncanny new reflexes becoming active.

>Slaughter her, dive through the window and devour her to become stronger? (d100+5)

>Attempt to subdue her physically, to force her into servitude, either as a thrall or as a fledgling? (d100-20)

>Attempt something else? Your mind has grown stronger too, perhaps something else will work? (Write in, d100)

>>1559826
<3 thanks strig! I see a lot of potential here in this quest.

Also feel free to check out Gunslinger as well :)

Rolled 46 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>1559875
RIP AND TEAR HER GUTS.

Rolled 9 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>1559875
>Attempt to subdue her physically, to force her into servitude, either as a thrall or as a fledgling? (d100-20)

Rolled 5 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>1559875
>Attempt to subdue her physically, to force her into servitude, either as a thrall or as a fledgling? (d100-20)

I have no idea how to put - in dice
But lets try to get another like us...although there is also fun on being broody old strigan wanting to be alone

>>1559926
A grave-diggers work is never done.

Rolled 28 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>1559875

>>1559882
Time seems to slow as you see her wrists, falling slack at her sides, pulse with the flow of blood. You can hear her heart thud against her ribs, and you are overcome with hunger. You leap forth with alacrity you didn't know you had, throwing your entire weight forward through the window in a pounce. Your legs launch your careering through the air, your hands reaching as you pin her to the ground to force her arms to the floor. She struggles in horrified panic, but you are far too strong now, in your hunger. You open your mouth wide and dive for her neck, clamping down onto her jugular vein.

You drink deep and greedily, the fresh ichor of her life draining into you in a reinvigourating stream. At first, she tries to fight, but as your muscles strengthen, your claws grow more pronounced and your mind focuses in on the euphoria of feeding, she goes limp, falling unconscious. You drink until there is nothing left in her, until her body lies ion a crumpled pile, and until you are at least half sated. Her blood courses through you, and you feel yourself growing in power. You have the potential to become better, to hone your skills.

>How will you direct your growth?
>Towards your senses, to hone them to a finer point, in order to track more closely the movements of your victims before you attack them. This will give a permanent bonus to tracking, hunting and nightvision, though you risk being blinded in bright light?
>Towards your claws, making them grow and knot with muscle and bladed bone. You will be able to tear through flesh with ease, and to fight with the fury your bloodlust grants you.
>Towards your muscles, granting you greater strength and speed, your calves growing stronger and allowing you to pounce, or to clamber in rafters. You will be more effective in tasks requiring strength or bursts of speed?
> To all of yourself equally. You are no savage, you will craft yourself into something more elegant, compact your rippling muscles into a human shape. You will be graceful, and able to pass as human far more easily.
>To your mind. You will dominate the feeble thoughts of your prey. They will succumb.
>To something beyond you. The darkness of death surrounds you, with the blood of the living your link to the world you once inhabited. You can take hold of the darkness surrounding you, if you wish, and use it.

>>1559958
Going to sleep so I'd rather leave this choice to those that stay.

>Towards your senses, to hone them to a finer point, in order to track more closely the movements of your victims before you attack them. This will give a permanent bonus to tracking, hunting and nightvision, though you risk being blinded in bright light?

Our guy does not strike to me as an one that would willingly try to blend in back to humanity...neither one to control others, but nothing stops us from changing this later

>>1559958
Towards our claws. We are no Dracula, no Mysterious gentleman. We are not a delicate aristocrat. We are a PREDATOR. a hunter, a ripper of flesh and consumer of the weak and strong alike. Our body must adequately project our strength.

Well, we will be needing a tie break. Also, we could probably do with a name. I am pre-emptively vetoing Alucard, Dracula, Vlad, or anything of the sort.

>>1560058
I vote claws.

>>1560058
We will be Carthus. The Red ripper. The claws in the night. The blood god.

>>1559958
>> To all of yourself equally. You are no savage, you will craft yourself into something more elegant, compact your rippling muscles into a human shape. You will be graceful, and able to pass as human far more easily.
Kinda want to be the gentleman mastermind desu

>>1559958
>Towards your muscles, granting you greater strength and speed, your calves growing stronger and allowing you to pounce, or to clamber in rafters. You will be more effective in tasks requiring strength or bursts of speed?
Gotta dig those graves.

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You bask in the comfortable warmth of the fresh kindled cookfire, and in the still fresh gore of your prey. No pity enters your mind as you savour the life-blood of your now slain compatriot, only hunger, hunger insatiable. You must consume. More. More. Until all the world bathes in blood. As you dive again upon her drained body, you feel your claws lengthen, the bone shuddering outward until each finger ends with a viciously sharp blade. Revelling in your new weapons, you test them upon your victim, scything through skin like paper, and flesh as butter.

She comes apart, and in your still fresh hunger you devour her raw, stripping flesh from bone before cracking open the now bare frame of her body and devouring the meal within. You feel your arms strengthening, and you experiment with your great long claws. With this new meal, you are strong enough to clamber up some walls, and to saw through wood. Every hiding place can be prized open, and no prey will escape. You are free now, with no other grave-diggers nearby.

>What will you do next?
>Hunt for more live prey?
>Dig up corpses to devour the bonemeal or the rotting flesh?
>Try to escape into the countryside beyond the Necropolis, risking scaling the outer walls?
>Something else? Perhaps try to hone some of your skills?

Stats incoming.

All d100.

>>1560094
Hone skills.

Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>1560094
Get accustomed to our new abilities perhaps? run a bit, do some parcour, saw through the house, that sort of things?

>Stats
>Abilities: Vampiric Strength, Vampiric Alacrity, Heightened Senses, Bladed Claws.
>Residence: Shanty in the Necropolis
>Appetite: Ravenous
>Possessions: Rags
>Servants/Thralls: None
>Fledglings and Kin: None as yet.
>City Alert Level: Minimal

>>1558751
OP, I have a question. How do we roll again? I'm new to this board.

>>1560111
dice+1d100 in options field

>>1560117
Thanks!

>>1560103
Attempt to make more undead (if impossible, hone skills)

>>1560135
roll your votes lad

>>1560135

>>1560140
Sorry , do you add a plus in the options?

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Rolled 63 (1d100)

like so

>>1560150

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>1560155

>>1560159
My tablet kept capitalising the D.

I'm just eating yogurt lads, give me a minute while you work over ideas.

>>1560094
Hunt for more prey. There must be more grave diggers. More prey. More blood. We must CONSUME.

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>>1560166
>Eating yogurt and not eating the still beating hearts of your foes.

>Pleb

>>1560197
>saving thumbnails

>>1560135
I support this.

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>1560202
Yep, time to roll for it correctly this time

Rolled 62 (1d100)

Very happy there is a new vampire quest.

>>1560159
Supporting dis.

>>1560200
>Not saving every image that gives you a giggle.

Alright, so we're attempting to craft an undead thrall

You spend the remainder of the might and early morning testing your abilities. The vigour of fresh blood is enough to power you through the night, allowing you to roam across the small necropolis, from east to west. Your new legs thunder under you in a silent storm, the ridges of bone on your shoulders bulging and swinging as you swipe your great bladed hands through the patches of brush and scrubland between the tombstones. You hear the larks bellow and the crows scream as you pass, and you catch the thousand varied scents of the city from perches in tree-tops.

By the time the dawn comes, your chest thunders, your undead heart having grown to match your new needs.The first beams of daylight scorch your skin, and you begin to bubble and burn, forcing you to retreat back to your shanty. The hours of confinement are torturous, as you patch the holes in your walls that allow snatches of burning light in to break against your flesh. You need something to do, someone to act through, and so the idea comes to you. You felt you could dominate the mind of your first victim, perhaps the same could be done to a corpse.

In the first dawn of evening, you head out to the corpse cart, finding it abandoned as usual, with the corpses you would have dealt with piling up. Bearing five orsix on your broad shoulders, you carry the collection of bedraggled, congealed and thoroughly dead corpses through the driving night rain, comforted by the cold.

Once home, you set the corpses down, placing the corpse of a middle aged man, pallid but strong, his beard congealed with blood, onto your old table. You taste his cool blood, and wretch in disgust, spitting some of the blood you had consumed earlier back into the wound you had made in the body of the corpse, only for it to twitch. After some experimentation, you determine the answer.

A corpse must be injected with some warm blood, your own, in order for it's deceased frame to function, and you must focus your mind on it to raise it back to a functional state. At considerable cost of blood, you raise the corpse, ozone scented blood pouring out from your throat back into the would on the man's neck until he awakens. You command your thrall to its feet, and it rises, shakily and without much strength, a gaunt and pallid shadow of life, utterly silent, with no soul of its own, animate through your own life force, endlessly hungry for more of its own. For now it is little more than a dull, silent servant, doing as you mentally command as best it can. but still sluggish and, though strengthening with time, weak.

Your charnel servant must be fed to grow strong, and so you must decide what to do with the corpses left in your shanty.

>1 Zombie Thrall has been re-animated. He is stronger than a human should be, but is still slow and unable to hunt on his own. 5 Other corpses remain. You may devour corpses yourself, feed them to your thrall, or reanimate them. Cont.

>>1560197
In my defense, I've not had a toffee hoops corner yoghurt in years, and that sort of triumph tastes better than still beating hearts.

>>1560222
Glad to be of service.

>What will you do?

>Feed the thrall a corpse to strengthen it, then do the same with the other four corpse, producing two more combat-ready thralls?
>Devour the corpses yourself?
>Something combination of devouring, feeding and reanimation?
>Something else? (Write in)

All d100.

Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>1560351
>>Feed the thrall a corpse to strengthen it, then do the same with the other four corpse, producing two more combat-ready thralls?

then i think we'll want to move onto some sort of makeshift lair till we find something suitable

Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>1560351
>Something combination of devouring, feeding and reanimation
4 to you 1 for the zombie

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>1560351
>>1560372
supporting

>>1560372
This. Corpses aren't yummy but they are filling. We need to keep out strength up. Our zombie can go out and gather corpses For us during daylight hours, just wrap him up in rags and hell be passable for human. We can hunt for live prey, consume them and use the life force we gather to fuel our own growth and the reanimation of our thralls.

Lets say our thrall gathers 3 a day by himself. That would be 1 corpse for him to eat, 1 for us to raise and 2 for THAT thrall to consume. Rinse, lather repeat.

Rolled 26 (1d100)

>>1560462
that sounds pretty good actually changing vote to this
>>1560372

>>1560462
Lets say our thrall gathers 3 a day by himself. That would be 1 corpse for him to eat, 1 for us to raise and 1 (one) for THAT thrall to consume. Rinse, lather repeat.

Sorry im a moron and I fixed it.

>>1560372
The master eats first, the thrall takes the scraps. So it should always be. You devour four corpses in turn, drinking the caked up and congealed blood that is all that's left of their lifeblood. . Bones shatter and crack,. and after a brief rush of feeding, the pile of gore in your shanty grows. With the fourth corpse devoured, you retire to your straw bedstead, reclining, before sweeping your clawed hand and allowing the thrall to eat. It rushes forth in stumbling movements, crunching through the bone you left uneaten, before slowly pulling apart the remaining corpse.

Its unnatural body shudders and jolts as it's muscles knot, much as your own did. With a meal filling it with life-force, it is ready to begin work, and able to function at night and under the light of the sun. You, as you lie back onto the uncomfortable bed in which you spent half of your old life, feel no fatigue, only the swelling growth of your freshly devoured meal.

>Where do you direct the growth?
>Write in mutations! I can come up with some if needs be, but any standard increases in strength, charisma, claws, or other natural weapons/armour are always an option, if nothing more interesting can be thought of.

>>1560496
>grow a thicker skin that can handle the sunlight, also grow a camel-like extra eye flap that can let you walk around seeing during daylight.

If that doesn't get support, I vote for looking more human.

>>1560496
is something similar to the nightsalker / attuned to the shadows mutation from DCSS possible? (without the LOS reduction obviously)

>>1560496
Vestigial wings upon our back. A a long, jointed spear of bone and muscle growing from our spine this will function for now as a extra pair of stabbing limbs, aiding us in climbing, movement and combat but with investment we shall take to the skies.

>>1560511
I don't know what exactly that would entail, the fluff I'm finding with a cursory search is not of much help, but probably.

>>1560507
Looking more human is the last thing we want. We need to be a vicious predator, not a polite gentleman with unnatural feeding habits.

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>1560535
Okay fuck yeah this sounds fun
>>1560537
fear enough. I suppose you would back the vestigial wing vote right?

oh wait of course you would you fucking voted for that.

I decide not to fix this word salad because reasons.

Well, we'll either need a compromise, or for people to roll for their decision, with the highest winning.

>>1560536
yeah there isn't any explanation behind "you are more attuned to the shadows (+x STEALTH)" and "you are one with the shadows" at max rank
it would basically makes us harder to see in dark environments like how garett completly disappears unless you bump into him

Ability to fly eventually > being slightly harder to see in the dark.

>THINK OF THE KEKS

>>1560586
well EVENTUALLY we would have some kind of near-invisibility, but i'll bow to the vote of the majority~~
besides wings are pretty good too

>>1560586
yeah that's why I support your flying endeavor.

>>1560586
Yea sure, i'll support wings.

>>1560595
>>1560596
>>1560599


>Keks echo from the night sky

>>1560603
wings trigger me because i always imagine a combat situation where they'd catch every dodged blow and finish in pieces/evventually get cut off

Can we be Groundskeeper Willie?

>>1560611
Keep them folded close to our back until were using a attack that calls for them.

Duck under a sword blow and lunge with a wing spike. Impaled.

Jump over a enemy, knocking away his weapon and shield with our claws, wing spike through the face. Impaled.

Hang from the ceiling upside down. Stab down with iron hard wing spikes. Impaled.

>>1560614
That's a paddlin'

>>1560643
YA PADDLE LIKE A WIMPY PANSY!

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>>1560639
so they would look something like that?
or a bit more demoney perhaps?

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>>1560666
or actually this guy has some stylish wings that i wouldn't mind

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You lie down satisfied after your meal, before the pain begins to surge along your spine. You feel slivers of bone grow and swell out from the plating of your shoulders and the strange, knotted bone of your spine. Your flesh twists and contorts, the vampiric energy of blood and flesh making itself known in a haze of excruciating pain. Two points of bone emerge from your back with a sickening click, soon swelling and growing out into short, gargoyle-like wings. Not nearly enough to be of much use as wings, but large enough to act as extra limbs in some cases, long scrabbling tips like the talons of a bat. Once the pain subsides, you flap the smooth, leatherish membrane of your new limbs in satisfaction, practicing stabbing the bony points of the wings over your shoulders.

Your thrall bows to you, now ready to serve you as the dawn arises.

>How will the thrall work for the day?
>Grave Robbing (+2 Corpses Per Day. Some Risk)
>Corpse-Cart Work (+5 Corpses Per Day, Corpse-Bearers may grow suspicious, or may even catch the Thrall and destroy it, and may alert the guards on a low roll in either case)
>Gather Food (+Sufficient food to survive, catching rabbits, goats and other livestock. Very little risk)
>Something Else? (Write in)

>All require a d100.

Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>1560711
>Grave Robbing (+2 Corpses Per Day. Some Risk)

>>1560711
is there a certain size over which a fresh animal kill becomes better for feeeding than an old cadaver?

>>1560730
A deer or a cow would work for feeding rather than reanimation, since the whole thing of reanimation is based on the lifeblood of a sentient creature. It's basically just by volume of meat/blood for sustenance. I reckon I can get one more post out before going to sleep.

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>1560743
alright voting for graverobbing btw

>>1560727
>>1560751
The thrall sets out in the dawn, swaddled in rags and covered from head to toe in order to conceal it's nature from any observers. You hand it the shovel with which you earned your former keep, and it heads out to beging rave robbing. Throughout the day, it has almost no luck, digging down into old and long buried graves to find only dust and decayed bones, useless for your magic as yet. It returns in the evening, and you both begin the evening hungry. You smell blood in the distant wind, and alcohol in the air rolling from the city. The watch is away. The walls are unmanned. Tonight is a night to hunt.

I'll be back sometime tomorrow, and then we can probably do weekend sessions, with additional inconstant weekday posting at times, until I can finish these pesky exams.

Thanks for playing so far lads. I'm perversely pleased that the final post for this session was post 100.

Thanks for running. Our vampire is so cool. Normally anons go for more of a gentleman.

>>1560887
I think the major difference is that our character spent his entire life slogging through mud and burying corpses. Some vampires have the good fortune to be born counts, good old Carthus or whatever we call him was born in a shanty, he's hardly noble material, and I think that suits him just fine.

>>1560867
I swear Strig if you abandon this neato quest I will flog you until your insides are out and your outsides are in! Your ENTRAILS will become your Ex-Trails! Ill....ill.... Grrrr....ill rip your..... PAIN. LOTS AND LOTS OF PAIN.

>>1560940
aye, really, really liking this so far

Good Morning Folks!

What will Carthus be doing this evening?

>Low Risk hunting in the Graveyard? (d100+15)
>Moderate Risk hunt along the walls, thins out the defenses for future nights and gives you the chance to seize some weapons. (d100+5 for Climbing Wings)
>High Risk, high reward hunt in the city. Involves climbing up over the wall and hunting in the worker's district.(d100-20, Risk of being trapped in the city proper by the dawn)

Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>1562918
morning lad

>>Moderate Risk hunt along the walls, thins out the defenses for future nights and gives you the chance to seize some weapons. (d100+5 for Climbing Wings)
not sure what we'd do with weapons though

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>1562933

Rolled 27 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>1562918
>Moderate Risk hunt along the walls, thins out the defenses for future nights and gives you the chance to seize some weapons. (d100+5 for Climbing Wings)

>>1562933
To arm our thralls of course

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>58 Narrow Success

As soon as darkness falls, you know your target. The congealed blood of the corpses, and their raw flesh, hang on you, the lack of decent food unsettling your stomach and leaving you ravenous for warm blood once more. A gravedigger will not suffice, you require greater prey, and finer food, even if you must struggle in the hunt for it. A short sprint on your powerful legs, darting between copses of trees and piles of rubble brings you close to an abandoned section of the old walls, the rich grey cobble of the structure climbing only a few meters high.

Your new-grown wings flickering at your back, you fall back onto your haunches, before springing up onto the walls with the full force of your strengthened calves and thighs. Your claws scarbble for a moment before you can latch onto the wall, an then your wings secure themselves in the cracks between the mortared stones. It only takes a few more quiet leaps to pull yourself up over the dilapidated battlements, and to be standing atop the walls. You cannot be contained by such pathetic measures. The artisans district stretches out beyond the walls, teeming with slums and workshops, the night air wet with sweat and cheap beer, especially to your heightened senses.

Your pallid form springs and pounces along the wall toward an old Guard tower, only for the old oaken door of the structure swinging open, and a guardsman wandering out, old, but armed with a crossbow. You turn, and with startling agility, leap over the battlements, clinging onto the wall with your wings and lieing in wait. The doddering old fool ambles forward, the door of the tower swinging shut, and you dive upon him, the great muscular bulk of your body pinning him down before he can react, and your fangs sinking into his throat before he has the chance to scream out.

He struggles in vain, held down by the vice like grip of your sinewy arms, his crossbow discarded with a swipe of your wings. You feel the intoxicating rush of warm blood coursing through you, the clammy discomfort of corpse-blood forced out by the old mans lifeblood. Your muscles surge, and your hunger only heightens. You effortlessly toss his drained corpse off the walls, to be collected in the dawn, and advance on towards the guard tower.

>How will you approach the tower?
>From above, most towers have trapdoors to a top battlement? (d100+5 as a result of climbing wings)
>Through the door, rush in and slaughter the guardsmen? (d100)
>Try to scout the tower with your heightened senses first? (d100)

Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>1562959
>>Try to scout the tower with your heightened senses first? (d100)

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>1562959
>Try to scout the tower with your heightened senses first

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You sprint further along the walls, your ears pricking up as you approach the light and sound of the guard tower. The hazy noise of soldiers relaxing, of rusted iron and of cold broth, becomes sharper and sharper as you approach, until you keenly hear four men within the guard tower, one snoring lightly, but the rest seemingly awake. You decide it best to gewt a look at the room before your attack, diving to the side of the tower and silently scrabbling along the wall to an arrow slit in the wall, unattended. You cannot get through it, but you can see the men within quite clearly. Two of them sit, sharpening blades, a third lies sleeping, and a fourth, heavily mustachioed, man stands chattering about his crossbow, facing away from the door. A small hearth flares occasionally, a pot of broth cooling over the embers.

A few mottled bedsteads rest by the wall, along with a few chairs, and you notice from your perch that a ladder leads up to another, slightly higher level, from which you detect two more guardsmen, who you think to be asleep. Deciding upon your method of attack, you clamber up to the top of the tower, finding the trapdoor there as you'd expected, and, fortunately, unlocked. You silently pull the door open, revealing a row of hammocks and a dormitory within, with two guardsmen asleep in their hammocks. You drop down on silent feet, stalking across the floor towards the hammocks. Lockers of weapons side at their bases, and a cask of ale rests on a small side-table. A primitive larder is also to be found in an old oaken chest, from the smell of it.

You reach the first man, and sink your teeth into his still sleeping neck, draining him dry before he can even awaken to witness his killer, feeling yourself growing stronger and stronger with each lapping gulp of bubbling warm blood. As you retreat from the drained man, you look up to see his comrade, staring down at you in horror. You leap before he can scream. He is mauled before you drain what blood he has left. With the dormitory cleared, you come up with a plan, extinguishing the torches keeping the room lit, with your vampiric sight allowing you perfect vision nonetheless. With the room turned dark, you upturn much of the furniture, making the floor into a mire of chair-legs and stumbling blocks, before letting out a scream of distress, your mimicry working perfectly.

You then leap up to the roof of the chamber, as the guardsmen in the room below rush up the ladder. Once the four men are within the chamber, they stumble and trip over the upturned furniture in the darkness, not having enough time to realise what has happened before you fall upon them. You first pounce on the crossbowman, wrenching his head from his neck, before pouncing on the two swordsmen, ripping into the face of one with your clawed wing, and mauling the other to death with your bladed claws. The fourth man is dispatched with a final pounce, crushing him against the wall and knocking him out. Cont.

You feed upon all four of the men, until your entire body surges with their lifeblood, until your maw drips with ichor, and until you are finally sated. You feel yourself growing in power, from the growth of your muscles to the sharpening and lengthening of your bladed claws. You see, hear and smell more clearly. Your mind bristles, and you are ready to grow and to better yourself

>Mutation time lads! We just got a lot of food, so we're ready to grow something significant.

>>1562994
Necromantic powers. Summon up the dead ones, my dude.

>>1562994
grow our wings as far as possible
if there's a spillover, acquire some necromantic/mind control powers

>>1562996
What those necromantic powers would exactly be like?
We can already raise dead with our blood.

>Our skin grows thicker, almost armor like, protecting from cuts and piercing attacks.
>wings grow if we have left over after that

>>1562997
This. We need our wings to be functional as quickly as possible

>>1562994
Still with us Strig?

Hellooooo

Sorry lads, I couldn't post earlier, but I can't run again until next weekend, as I'm doing my exams.

>>1563885
:( going to Archive this? Necropolis Vampire would be a good name for it. Got a discord Strig?

>>1563885
or a twitter or anything else to tell me when i can get my next fix?

I'm using all of my emails for twitter accounts already, but a Discord I can do. It'll work to link all my various QM personae together too. I'm the guy that did the islander quest, Elephant People Civ back in the day, along with the Tribal Survival quest where we got shat on by ape-people. I've been doing this for bloody years.

Oh, here's the link.

https://discord.gg/PpaD6kd

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Your swelling and rippling new muscles weigh heavily upon you, the bounty of your meal leaving you sluggish and ready to grow. You clamber up to the top of the room, holding on to a corner of the wall by the scrabbling points of your wings. It is effortless to hold onto the walls with your half hunched legs, and you soon fall into a slumber. In the darkness of unconsciousness, you feel dimly that you are growing, shifting, becoming more than you have been. Your legs grew more sinewy and muscular, the claws of your feet lengthening to brutally hooked blades, broad and padded to give a good surface from which to leap and to pounce.

Your claws lengthen and thicken, curling to be slightly hooked and to allow more efficient climbing and mauling of armoured opponents. Your arms themselves have swollen, your body now pushing past seven feet even while slightly hunched, your long ridged spine seeming to emerge from the grey-white flesh of your now utterly changed body. Your face has shifted the most, your nose and mouth moving into a consistent snarl, fangs rising and canines beginning to rise up, giving your mouth a batlike aspect. Your eyes shine with an eerie moon-silver light, and alongside the twin slits of your nose, you are a horrible thing to behold.

Physically imposing and seeming to resemble some batlike monstrosity, you are an apex predator, only made more lethal by the long, clawed wings unfurling from your back. Fueled by hot ichor, the vestigial clambering wings have grown into long, bone-tipped flaps of grey-black hide, emerging from the spines of your back. A shade of dark red blood can be seen, flowing through the thin membrane holding the points of the wings together. These wings, several feet across, are enough to host you aloft, to escape the shackles of earth and to fly, to soar and to glide. Nothing, truly, is safe from you now. The city is yours to hunt, and the darkness of the night sky as much a home to you as the land.

You awaken in the top room of the tower the next night, not yet disturbed by any other guardsmen on patrol and with your hunger returned. You feel something alien, a connection, to something distant. Your thrall. You can feel its intelligence in your mind, quiet and contemplative, but searching. For you. The feeling of command in your very mind is as intoxicating as the ichor of the dead men, and you feel a hunger for more such power. To control and to command more thralls, servants to your every whim and desire. You are the lord of the necropolis now, the finest hunter in the darkness, lord of blood and corpses alike, and you feel the need to find your subjects.

With this revelation, you feel something quiet in the depths of your mind, the souls. The blood you have consumed brought with it the souls of the dead, prevented from rising, and now subjugated to your will, yours to do with as you please.

>New resource! Souls can be harvested if enough time is given while feeding from a corpse, and, when enough are consumed, allow for magical and intellectual mutation. The more souls you invest in yourself, that you devour, the more thralls and servants you can command, and souls of sufficient strength can be invested into individual thralls to grant them intellect, and the ability to manage themselves independently, subject to your will through commands, but able to interpret your words.

> Five Souls gained. Five Drained Corpses gained

>What now?
>Return to the Necropolis and experiment with your magic?
>Hunt further along the wall, thin out the guard further?
>Alter your thrall (Specify investment of souls of corpses, and intended goals)
>Explore the length and breadth of your domain in the Necropolis?
>Something Else? (Write in)

All d100s.

>>1566120
Invest the souls into ourself. Specifically in our blood magic (thrall raising and such). Bring the dead guards to our lair and order our Thrall to feed on 3 of them. Steer its mutations towards its own intelligence and strength so that it may hunt for weak prey by itself.

Rolled 40 (1d100)

>>1566125
Forgot my dice

>>1566126
Fuck my ass somebody back me up here.

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>1566125
this looks fine to me

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>1566120

>>1566120
>>1566125
vote for this

Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>1566125
Support

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>1566125

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>>1566136

>56 Narrow Success

The souls mewl and cry, their screams of impotent fear and rage quickly subsumed by the billowing inferno of your own, vastly more powerful soul, like shards of kindling into a flame. You feel yourself grow more poerful, specifically in the blood. You feel the lifeblood of each soul resonate within your newly formed muscles, becoming a part of you, intrinsic. You feel the power in each drop of the blood coursing through you, of every droplet of your blood in the world, even of that little quantity fuelling your thrall. You feel the power you have over the weak minded thrall, and the power of it is intoxicating to your newly expanded mind.

You focus on the bloodn within your thrall, and in a moment, see through its eyes. It stands in the graveyard, digging with your old shovel, and for a moment you feel a rush of panic, as if you had returned to the life you once lead, only to see the clammy, rotting skin of the thrall and remember. You strain for a moment, and control the Thrall's arm. Your blood within it allowing you to seize control at will and to direct the creature from afar. You relax your control, and the thrall closes its slackened jaw, returning to work. For a moment you think you hear it splutter. Something in its clanking mind has pushed it to whistle, closing its blue lips together and whistling a working song. It touches something in you for a moment, before passing.

You think for a moment of the task ahead, in dragging the corpses back home, before coming upon a better idea. You drag the corpses out onto the ramparts then toss them all in a pile onto the muddy mire below the walls. You spit warm blood into your hands, and jump down after them, flapping your wings to slow your descent. You place your hands on two of their blank faces, blood leaving first a mundane imprint, and then, as you force your own energy into the liquid, burning into the cheeks of the two men, their eyelids coming open to reveal their clouded eyes. They set about dragging the corpses for you, as you run back home. Once they arrive, you pull the energy away from them, and their corpses drop to the earth, inert.

>Ability Gained - Servantcraft/Corpsecraft. You can empower corpses with your own energy to produce utterly servile entities, incapable of anything more than following direct orders. This will work on any once living material, from hair, to bones, to skin to flesh.

Cont.

Your thrall awaits within the shanty. It has been cleaned, the thrall seeming to have gained the basic intelligence needed to serve in such a capacity after your growth. The hearthfire roars with planks of coffin-wood, and boots lie warming by it. Your bedstead has been cleaned and, notably, the walls have been proofed against the sun. The thrall looks at you, it's cheeks finally beginning to rot away, awaiting your approval for its work. You nod, and it seems to chitter its teeth, unable to speak, but not entirely unconscious any longer. You order it to eat, to devour three of the corpses, and it sets to work, after placing the extra corpses into your growing stock of cadavers, for which he has dug a small pit in the corner of the shanty.

The thrall eats with a slow, slurping method, ripping away at skin with its long fingernails and teeth, before savagely ripping at the flesh within. He chews through arteries and deposits of fat with gleeful hunger, and goes so far as to pop out eyes and to devour them in halves. You can see in your mind a pack of thralls devouring a cornered man, all attacking with this same ravenous abandon. As it eats, it grows bloated, and then almost distended. Over the next few hours, it swells and grows as you have, rising to a height only just below your own, with a ridge of spiny bones upon its back, and thick, pallid muscles in slabs on its entire body. Its skin has grown thicker, though its human eyes remain the same, though clouded. It is no smarter, but it certainly seems a more vicious predator, reacting more quickly to thrown scraps, and certainly a strong enough target now to slay a man with his bare hands.

>Stats
>Abilities: Heightened Vampiric Strength, Vampiric Alacrity, Greatly Heightened Senses, Long Bladed Claws, Spiked Wings, Servantcraft, Blood Magic, Terrible Visage
>Residence: Shanty in the Necropolis
>Appetite: Ravenous
>Possessions: Rags, Scraps of grave goods, Shanty+Furniture. 4 Corpses, 0 Souls.
>Servants/Thralls: 1 Crypt-Thrall (Strong, Ravenous)
>Fledglings and Kin: None as yet.
>City Alert Level: Minimal

>What next?
>Go out hunting once again? (Where?)
>Send the Thrall out hunting? (Where?)
>Alter Thrall/Raise Thrall? (Specify)
>Raise Servants? (How many?)
>Something Else? (Write in)

>>1566339
Raise the 2 remaining corpses as basic thralls. Send one out to gather corpses and search for gravediggers. Send our Crypt thrall to hunt for any Gravediggers they find.
Send the remaining thrall to search for a suitable Crypt, tomb or Mausoleum to be our new lair. Preferably in the more... Sparsely inhabited region of the Necropolis

>>1566339
Also Strigoi Im loving this quest. Youre doing a damn fine job here

Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>1566355
Dropped my dice.

>>1566358
That's very nice of you to say, and it means a lot coming from someone who writes such good quests themselves. It's just an idea that struck me and that I really enjoy.

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>1566339
>>1566355
This + roll

>>1566370
A great combination of detail and a fun story along with fantastic imagery. Its been forever since we had a quality vampire quest and this is shaping up to be pure fun

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>>1566375
>>1566359
>>1566355

You look through the corpses, choosing the two guardsmen remaining, still attired in padded leather armour, and latch back on to their throats, reinjecting them with blood and bringing them back to life. They are weak and almost entirely incapable of thought, their minds still clouded with the repeating visions of their final moments, a flurry of darkness and mauling claws which you remember fondly. They will serve basic purposed nonetheless as scouts, and, in their helms and armour, look perfectly usual unless inspected closely. You dispatch one to discover the sites of a suitable residence, preferably a mausoleum or family crypt, ripe with corpses to be harvested, while the other is sent off under the command of the Crypt Thrall, the sloshing tongue and ravenous hunger of the latter preventing it from any stealthy operations. The thrall searches for gravedigger's shanties, and for wanderers on the windswept outer reaches of the necropolis, scouting out ahead for the Crypt Ghoul to attack in the darkness, to destroy any foe and to harvest their corpses. Additionally, during the day, this basic thrall will dig for corpses.

You relax for a short while, occasionally checking up on them, spending your day in contemplation, until, shortly before nightfall, one of the stumbling guardsmen comes upon a fine white marble Mausoleum, built into a hillside. The door stands strong, but behind it there is a hollow chamber, likely leading down into a wide mausoleum. The text on the door reads "De Vander Crypt, Home of the Honoured Dead". Footsteps can be heard in the depths below, you will perhaps have competition. Alas, not for much longer. The pair of thralls get to work quickly, with the crypt ghoul devouring a few rabbits and deer in the sycamore copses, and his counterpart discovering two shanties within the day. By midnight, the Crypt Ghoul has bludgeoned both to death with his heavy bony arms, and has dragged the corpses back to your shanty for you to feed upon, before their blood has a chance to coagulate, though their soul had faded, and the taste of grave mud could not be shaken.

You rise from your bed in the depths of the night, with your host assembled before you. Two thralls, now strengthened by activity, with hot blood int heir veins, though still ravenous, a grinning Crypt Thrall, with two kills under its belt, and you yourself, Carthus the Devourer, Carthus, Lord of the Necropolis, and Carthus, Ichor-Thirst. The doros of a crypt shall not hold you out, and the honoured family of De Vander will bow and scrape under your clawed feet, their ancient bones rising to do your bidding in the cool depths of the earth.

>Do you prepare any further to try to take the Crypt?
>Or do you force the doors open and move in.

d100 roll for either option, please specify actions other than an assault.

Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>1566459
try to scout the tower using our own heightened senses first

>>1566459
How many corpses do we have?

>>1566474
Still four. You had four, resurrected two, then killed two gravediggers.

>>1566480
Oh ok. Lets resurrect as many as we can for a Zerg Rush into the Crypt. Probably a necromancer or something down there. Zombies beat skeletons. Arm them with the guards weapons or just gravediggers shovels

Sorry lads! I'm done for the night, pretty heavy few days for exams this week, but I'll post when I can.

Thanks for the enthusiasm everyone, and for sticking with me with the weird time-scale.

>>1566578
i could crawl through a mile of broken cocks just to get a whiff of a new update mate

>>1567633
Well damn. That is quite enthusiastic.

Let's go folks!

>>1566485
Cursed, if you could please roll for that idea?

>>1566468
What tower? Do you mean the Crypt?

>>1572224
D100? And a new thread might be a good idea m8 since were on page 4 and all

>>1572277
Fair I suppose. Well, roll for it, and I'll do the post as a new thread.

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>1572224

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>1572300
ROLLAN