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>>4154902
5. Free plains nomads
Primitives, survivalists, scavengers, brigands, highwaymen, ranchers, and talons for hire. Reccently as the continent burned, they endured bitter conflict against foreign Nomad Grabraf who invaded their territory and pushed them out of ancestral lands. Displaced tribesmen found work as peace keepers in the underground civil war of the Subter Empire; it turned out they were better vandals than protectors. The world beneath Sujardin yet burns.

6. Jahonia's Embrace
The Sanctified Ascendency of Our August Lady, or Jahonia's Embrace as it is currently know were the leaders of the Entante. A merger of the Kholekans and "Unity"; a religious nobility of old bloodlines and desire for Empire. Few outside the Embrace can say they fight for a living god, and fewer still can bring to bear an equivalent of their military and industrial might.

7. Nekonahu
A merchant state ruled by a number of Trade Princes, they control the Hurkun herds, they control the cheese. More land means more Hurkun, more Hurkun means more Cheese; cheese is wealth and the cheese must flow. Warlike in many facets of life with aspirations of expansion, and preying on foreigners is always wiser than your neighbors but exploitation with informed consent is just business.

8. Goltona Republic
The remains of the former buffer nation of Exherst, a buffer between the Embrace and Nekonahu, they remain fiercely neutral in all matters out of fear; the memory Exherst razed to the ground in the great war is still fresh in their collective consciousness. The Voltanites have made it a puppet state and staging ground for their machinations, and there are heavy ties to the great Subter Commonwealth by means of their trading partner, the Huzduks.

9. Voltanites
Isolated to a chain of islands to the south of Sujardin, they developed in isolation, eventually abandoning faith for pragmatism, only to eventually learn of living creatures one could call a god. The Volanites exploded onto the stage of world history with levels of industry and technology the rest of the continent could not complete with. Their exploration of the world garnered them many benefit, but ultimately their reach exceeded their grasp; As they conquered Sujardin at great cost, they learned there were greater powers across the ocean. Not yet resigned to a position beneath leadership, they have made foreign alliances and plan for the long term.
----
>pick one or roll a 1d9, the one most selected is your background. It will impact your starting resources, literacy, faith, and more.

Rolled 6 (1d9)

>>4154903
>>4154902

God(s) wills it!

>>4154903
>6. Jahonia's Embrace
Is this a civ?

>>4154903
>9

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>>4154903
>Bonus faction, because fuck you tail-tan
10. Touban
A recently formed small state, caught between Voltanite Empire, SoX and Xerhonoke. It holds its borders thanks to a charismatic warlord who thus far has managed to capitalize on the unique needs of a post war continent. Namely trade of materials, smuggling of peoples, and execution of deeds most would prefer not to dirty their hands with. Its a good place for a person to disappear in, and reemerge someone else. Its also a good place to make someone disappear in.

Pictured are historic phases and cultural slices of some various nations.

>4

>>4155172
supporting

>>4155207
We must unite and modernize Xerhonoke and reclaim the Mandate of Heaven.

>>4155222
anon, I will conclude the generation of the character in about 8 hours or less, please review, pick choices from each table
----

Age has a lot to do with the season of one' character. (pick one)

1. Never fought in the war, came of majority this year.
>carries relatively new, foreign, or exotic equipment, if only a few items of it.
2. Veteran of the war
>Likely to still have service weapons and equipment.
3. Fought in the great war and those before it.
>Well equipped with a vast panoply of functional, if antiquated gear, armor, and weapons.

Next, what is your background? (pick one)

1. I still serve
>active service to the country.
2. I serve myself now.
>a life of banditry, mercenary work, or otherwise is just as good.
3. I defected to the enemy.
>faith was tested, and the other side proved more righteous in your eyes, or perhaps there was more opportunity to be had.

Lastly....what was your background?

1. Pure Plains Grabraf
>Bog standard PG.
2. Thinking Grabraf blooded
>You have some of the high born in you, the TG saw fit to elevate your line once, long ago.
3. Forest Grabraf Blooded
>Somewhere along the line your ancestors took liberty.

>Now roll a 3d20, and lets see how radical those choices are.

Rolled 3, 5, 8 = 16 (3d20)

>>4155352
1,3,3

>>4155352
Also Touban

Rolled 2, 16, 7 = 25 (3d20)

>>4155352
3. Fought in the great war and those before it.

2. I serve myself now.

3. Forest Grabraf Blooded

Rolled 10, 6, 6 = 22 (3d20)

>>4155559
supporting, if you need me to roll aswell here you go. Pick the spicier outcome.

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Rolled 16, 5, 9 = 30 (3d20)

>>4155352
oy ven a bird person quest. I can't wait to collect all the shiny sheckles.

Rolled 17, 1, 5 = 23 (3d20)

>>4155352
>War veteran
>I serve myself now (merc)
>TG-blooded

Let us now commence looking at the good, the bad, and the dark elf and get that fistful of debt-paper.

Rolled 4, 7, 4 = 15 (3d8)

>>4155352
3, 3, 1

Also Nekonahu

Rolled 17, 9, 17 = 43 (3d20)

>>4155845
foce of habit

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4154915
6,6,9,4,4,1,10, 7

6=1, 4=2

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4155924
Deus Vult! You serve the lady!
and now because I am a generous soul, and you are the main character of this story, only the finest of rolls will determine your background.

17> (1) War Veteran vs (2) Old Guard
16> serves self
17> Pure PG

and if you die, we will use the lowest rolls to generate your successor.

>>4155924
I say we're Kholeskan, rather than from the Union.
Black of hair and blue of beak.

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>>4155935
>>4155924

You are a pure blooded PG from the Embrace, old enough to come from the Kholekans; though that term is starting to loosing meaning to the world these days. Your proud pedigree means you stand ramrod straight, with well defined talons and a sharp, hooked beak. There are the echos of your people's more violent past echoing across even your resting features, and it intimidates weaker willed souls.

Unfurling your old map, you look over it again. It was one of the last your command sent in the closing days of the war. You still couldn't understand how the forces of the Entante had lost, look at it, between the Unity, Kholeskan Alliance, Castigars and more...The Lady walked at your sides, and no matter how many times there was a rumor of her being cut down, you had seen her again and again. Never too close, true, but many had seen her, they knew she was real....perhaps such was the might of the modern world the Voltanites came to represent. They were spread thin now, but the touch of their ideals was ever present as tainted gifts of "reconstruction", more than anything they simply did their best to control the trade of outside goods...

It didn't matter, you served yourself now, taking the chance to walk the world. Icons of the lady and Hootinism still adorned you, it was not abandonment to that cause, but perhaps a sabbatical you were a free Grabraf, out to see this world; the good, the bad, the dark elf and get a fistful of debt-paper. To live for yourself for once.

Sitting down by a docile broulder beast, it's tree back would provide shade from the noon sun.

>>4155958
>check inventory

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>>4155958
You run talons across your scalp, blue plumage breaths better outside your kettlehelm. Your unit had been issued some of the best equipment available. Your faith, discipline, and cutting edge equipment saw many victories over the godless voltanites. Truly, with so many victories you still struggled with the realization that all your won battles had not saved the war. Had the others done so poorly?

Talons idly run over your Mk2. It was a wartime improvement, but a worthy one.

(you are as pictured.)
----
You are currently on the western edge of Kholeskian territory. What do?

pick one and roll a 1d20. best or worst roll wins.

1.There are rumors of the voltanites are setting up a new factory not so far by. It may be worth finding out what they are up to.

2. Head to a nearby settlement, and see what you find.

3. Write in

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>4155987
>1.There are rumors of the voltanites are setting up a new factory not so far by. It may be worth finding out what they are up to.
That's just making a mockery of the peace process. let's go there and tell them what's what! And maybe they have work for us..

>>4155991
>5
>You get distracted.
On your way to the voltanite factory, you discover that a group of vagrants are harassing a humble merchant prince of lesser status. Yelling at them to break it up, they laugh you off. "Wrong sided idiot!" for your efforts you collect a few rocks pelting off your armor. Good thing about that helmet. These brigands offer you offense in your own damn territory, lady's patience and Xerho's blood!

1. Deus Vult. - conserve ammo and give them the bayonet.
2. <ranged> Drop them one by one until they surrender.
3. Intimidate, they aren't even armed with real weapons.
4. Walk away, you are more concerned with the factory.

make a choice, roll a 1d20

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>4156012
>2.
I feel like we should take advantage of our status as ex soldiers and use our training. Besides, there might be a reward for these vagrant's heads.

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>4156012
>>4156020
Sounds reasonable, or we could- DEUS VULT!

>1.

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>4156012
3. After having survived such a gruesome war, meaningless blood spilling lost its appeal

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>>4156204
The civilized grabraf in you spoke of mercy, the soldier in you said shoot them dead, but ultimately it was the crusader who won the argument.
>>4156203
Full charge and bayonet extended; a series of oaths boomed from your faceless helmet; distorted, metallic, and terrifying. Your blade slammed into the stomach of the nearest vagrant, lifting it up off the ground, blood spewing from the scum's mouth while you heafted higher, eventually a spine snapped and gore washed over your form. The bandits are fully terrified. Your impaled victim struggles to remove the barrel of your rifle from his spilling gut, a scream is mouthed, coming as a wet gurgle.

>1. Pull the trigger, and let them run.
>2. Rip and Tear, let none live.

Rolled 8 (1d20)

>>4156226
1. Pull the trigger, and let them run

And turn to the merchant, covered in gore. "These services are for hire, by the way."

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>4156273
seconded

>>4156273
>>4156281
You pull the trigger, the blast muffled by a torso which has been blown in two. Two sections fall wetly next to you. The upper half of the sundered grabraf crawls for a few feet, dragging entrails and blood; before finally expiring, a clawed hand outstretched towards pants shittingly terrified former companions.
>8
"Merchant. Need you of protection?" You recognize him to be of the Xerhonoke region, your dialect not the best. Furthermore, you have terrified the fuck out of him.

For your troubles, the merchant compensates you with a hunk of dry aged cheese; though small this particular vintage carries value.
----
Gained: Small hunk of Xerhonoke Cheddar.

Current inventory:
Kholeskan Half plate
----
>Search the carcass halves?
>Continue on to the factory
>Write in

pick and roll a 1d20

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>4156336
>dedicate this kill to the lady and search through the carcass halves.

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>4156336
>>4156359

Seconded, but once done scavenging drag the corpse to the nearest body of water and make it an offering to the August Lady.

>>4156359
>6: You splay the entrails out in honor to the Lady, which only serves to leave you in near immediate isolation. The Carcass had nothing of value.

Using the rags of the corpse you clean off your armor the best that is possible and carry on. Hopefully the Lady is pleased by your offering.

By evening you find yourself not too far off from the factory. A small community in voltanite style has been erected near by. Gas street lights illuminate hexagonal cobblestones on a short street. On either side buildings rise up two stories or more, the ground level dedicated to commerce while the upper floors are obviously residency. Exposed pipes and cables run down their lengths for ease of access. It lacks artistry and soul.

Still, you need a place to sleep for the night.

>1. On a bench.
>2. Between the buildings, use some of the refuse as shelter.
>3. Visit the inn

pick one and roll a 1d20. high roll wins.

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>4156433
>1. On a bench.

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>4156433
>2. Between the buildings, use some of the refuse as shelter.

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>4156433
>3. Visit the inn
We could buy a little bread and sausage for the cheese for a nice snack.

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>4156433
>3.

Perhaps we can catch the latest news

Rolled 8 (1d20)

>>4156508
>>4156433
let us dine upon the bread and sausage

>>4156508
>>4156565

After narrowly deciding to sleep on a bench in your flithy uniform, you decide to stop by an inn. The only inn...in fact...hue.

Your lump of fine Xeronhokeian cheese will go well with a bit of bread and sausage....you really hope they have sausage

>14

The inn is very nice for a little industrial town, a split level affair with cozy wood panneling and a small dining area that is deserted at the moment. The Cavern grabraf that attends the front desk stares at you with overly large eyes. "Dont take your Debt scripts here Kholeskan." The Uniform sort of gives you away immediately, thankfully you have a large supply of Voltanite chits and other tokens in your backpack. After hauling them out, you are taught their value by the inn keeper who has nothing better to do. A few of the smaller chits go towards your food; Tuzan Sausage, it tastes a bit odd, familiar too, but you press those memories down. deep down. The fresh bred is crusty with hits of exotic flavors from across the ocean. Your drink is a surplus voltanite MRE beverage, as you pull the top off it, you hear a hiss as atmosphere rushes into equalize with the well preserved beverage. Nice hiss. Its some sort of very mildly alcoholic, carbonated tea and berry concoction.

You set your kettle helm down on the table, across from you. It's empty eyes stare at you, as if expecting it's share of the food. "Piss off." you mumble at the helmet. The Innkeeper looks at you for a moment, cocking her head near sideways as only CGs seem to be able to do. creepy little shits. You killed plenty of em in the war, their heads were the largest target..."Whats a Kholeskan doing here?" You tell her you want to see the factory, and see the world. Clear your head. "Well...if you need to clear your head I have something in the basement that might help."
----
>Basement surprise?
>No. Just sleep.
>On second thought the bench seems pretty good.
>Write in.

Pick one and roll a 1d20. a 1 or a 20 is an automatic pick, on the first available number provided. I will return.
>A new rule is instated.
Players can form consensus, and I will combine their numbers to create a superior vote. So a 2 and a 5 loose to a 6, but if the two and five form consensus, they outrank the six, and their combined result goes forward as an artificial success.

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>4156596
>1

Basement! Basement! Basement!
Oh boy! Oh boy!


What a nice CG! We were wrong to mistrust her.

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4156632
I am forming a consensus with the gay baby chick

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4156596
Just go to sleep, basement drugs are more trouble than they're worth.

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>4156632
basement shenanigan's. We gonna kill giant rats?

>>4156653
>>4156645
>>4156632
17,15, and 4...why thats...bunches. Much more bunches than a 17 by itself!
----
Walking away from the table, you follow the innkeeper to a narrow hallway tucked behind the main reception desk just out of sight. Nothing too ominous, you briefly mull over the idea of sleep but realize it would likely have ended in a psychedelic dream sequence involving a message from her Lady...again. The kettle helm slips back over your head and the world narrows to a slit.

You smell blood, you hear hooting and shouting, chirps and screams. wood panneling gives way to raw cement, wet with damp, and a metal door. You continue to follow. Inside is a crude arena, lined with locals on benches. In the middle of the arena is a single Grabraf, a Thinking Grabraf, in an apparent fight with it's symbiotic Discolodite. Despite the madness of it, you...want to join in. You ask the CG innkeeper what this all is.

"Welcome...to the Pankration league. Tonight's your first night, so you gotta fight." You ask who the mad Grabraf in the arena is. "Y'ler D'den...maybe. Sometimes another name. Hard to tell." Only up close can you see the swelling of an old injury around the CG's eyes. "How bad do you want it Kholeskan? Just a touch, or all the way?"
----
>unarmored and unarmed is a good idea tonight.
>Armored and armed, You can send another one to the lady for old time's sake.
>Just walk away, forget you saw this, and run.
>There is some sort of large...tailed hurkun in the shadows. you should probably kill it. You feel the urge to kill it.

pick one and roll a 1d20 dear anons.

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>4156733

I attempt to seduce the Thinking Grabraf!

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>4156737
>>4156733
Seduce the grabraf… through beating it in (mostly)honorable combat!

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>4156737
This

>>4156754
The battle field shall be the bedroom

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>4156733
>>Just walk away, forget you saw this, and run.
good fucking bye to this nonsense

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Your common sense is overwhelmed by the beauty of Y'ler. She is a TG of uncommon resemblance to the lady, all the way down to the missing eye giving her a distinct cyclopian visage.

Your mad charge leads you past a heavy chain link wall, and gate, into the arena proper, landing a single good hit on the mad grabraf who fights with it's own Discolodite. You are immediately knocked out.
>Helmet damaged.
As you come to, you find yourself in the Arena. Dazed but whole, though perhaps not for much longer. A degenerate beast howls and slavers in front of you. From the stands you see Y'ler wave at you. "That is Moobles!" you look at the beast in disgust. The TG prattles on "Not all mutant hurkuns are purposeless engines of destruction; in some cases, the mindless beast is steered by a wise enough discolodite to engage in finer aspects of culture, such as wrestling matches to the death and smuggling drugs.....thoooough do note that the beast needs to intake a full gallon of tranquilizer daily; otherwise, it'd be too rambunctious to control fully...and we were a little low today. Soooo..good luck Mr. Kholeskan, I hope your little hat keeps that pretty head in one piece!"
---
Haha! She called you pretty, and yes, you are a pretty bird.

>Bayonet
>Rooty tooty point and shooty.
>Grenade!
>Think smart! (GM Action)
>Write in. (Your action)


>Pick one and roll a 1d20

>*new readers to the lore. Not all grabrafs are born equal, and one out of every 200 is born as a "Thinking" Grabraf. These unique specimens are better in every way to their kin, save a common sense of entitlement and arrogance born of being superior to the masses. One manifestation is an odd symbiote that can burst from their abdomen, and take many shapes. Yes. its a Jojo reference. No, I didn't make this setting.

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>4156967

>2

Now its time to use those bullets that we saved! Aiming for the eye of that parasite thing

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4156967
>Greanade!
Aim for it's large beak once it opens to screech or roar, whatever weird sound these fucked up beasts tend to do.

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>4156967
>rip and tear
>you are huge. you have HUGE GUTS

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4156967
>Affix bayonets, 'tis time into the breach once more

>>4156967
So a little confused. If we manage to kill it, can we take the symbiote and use it? Would that be bad?

>>4156596
>>>>>>>>>Nice hiss
Lets get this on to a tray

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>4157585
The Hurkun symbiote? We could, and that'd be bad.
The Thinking Grabraf symbiote? We couldn't, but that'd be cash.

>>4156967
I am consensusing with >>4157558

I've been gone too long.
>>4157029
You grab a grenade from your pack, its a late war model. Stacked pucks make the cylinder and determine the yield, for this freak you keep it at a single puck. Whipping the explosive into the abomination's mouth abruptly cuts off its horrific howls and gurgles. A moment later an anti climactic and muffled pop ruptures open the Hurkun' chest cavity and abdomen. Gross musculature still flexes and twitches even in the absense of internal organs.

>>4157558
The process of creating a mutant hurkun was known in the lands of the Unity. A violation of Emra's own gifts; the symbiote of a Nomad Grabraf is stripped from it's flesh and crudly jammed into the body of a Hurkun. Only the base minds of the cannibalistic Tuzan would find this appropriate.

Fixing your bayonet, you stand over the ruined corpse, waiting. You had seen this before with slain TGs, and expect as much; and as surely as you do, comes the slithering discolodite out of it's host. You see the madness and pain in it's one eye. With an act equal parts mercy, contempt, and perhaps bitterness you jam your blade into the eye. It thrashes for a moment, limbs wetly slapping the concrete floor, you, and the cage walls, before it falls still.

It wasn't the spectacle the audience wanted, and you see the TG cock her head in consideration at you. "Perhaps we should have stripped you first. Oh well. This place bores me now."

Roll a 1d20 for the action of the mercurial mad woman. first roll is the only roll.

1. Absurdity. bad absurdity.
2-5. You are fighting your way out.
6-14. Go get some sleep, take a prize.
15-19. You have gained an ally of sorts?
20. Absurdity. good absurdity.

>>4159492
considering I've only rolled horribly, it's dumb of me to roll here. So I will.

Also, pic related are examples of Thinking Grabraf, with Forest Grabraf blood, pure blood, and Plaines Grabraf blood going from the top left clockwise.

Additionally, for anybody wondering about the setting, it's from a currently running evo game detailed here:
https://1d4chan.org/wiki/Essari_Evolution_Game#Archived_Threads

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>4159495

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>>4159495
for your *pokedex: a Nomad Grabraf, distinctly different from a grabraf who is a nomad. This subspecies possesses a unique discolodite allegedly granted to it by their strange god, or possibly Emra itself.

NG are near universally reviled by all Grabrafs as being invasive and cultureless pests. For themselves, the NG hold a strong hatred of TGs, the only other race to posses a discolodite; granted one of a very different nature.

>>4159501
Ok. Now I know the little worm things as re bad. Good to know. We should stab them more often then.

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>>4159492
A collection of thickly muscled PGs crowd you out of the cage, and soon enough the dull thud of flesh impacting flesh begins again, slowly drowned out by shouts. Y'ler is no where to be seen, but your host the Innkeep takes you back to the main Inn lobby.

"That kinda gore keeps the violence at bay, reminds the workers what a real conflict looks like. You served the needs well Kholeskan. Take a pick from our lost and found, then be on your way to sleep, and tomorrow, be on your way from my inn."

>There is Kholeskan Officer's pistol, still in it's holster.
>A Voltanite armored overshirt.
>One of those new portable radios.
>Some sort of translation booklet. (Voltanite to Mainlander)
>An industrial respirator pack, hard hat, and some workgloves.
>Write in
>Roll to intimidate (this is all mine, you low born filth!)

roll me a 1d20 and make a pick. I will pick what pleases me.

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>4159559
we've got guns, we've got armor, we speak Kholeskan and probably that pigen language Mainlander and every Voltanite is bound to do so too. Work clothes would be interesting but dow e want to haul them around?

I say the radio is the best choice.

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>4159559

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>4159568
Support for radio
I dont know how advanced everything is, but listening to music on the go would be nice if at all possible

>>4159575
>A Voltanite armored overshirt.
my bad

>>4159746
I mean I could go either way if we can combine the armored shirt. If it's too heavy then the mc should stop being a bottom. Gotta get sick gains.

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>>4159677
>>4159568
You pick the radio, it is very foreign to you; its make is significantly smaller than the Kholesian units you had seen commanders using during the great war. Furthermore it seems to be made of several different units. The top part is unmistakably a military radio of some sort, but the battery might very well be from the tripods, and that strapped on speaker is highly suspect. the whole thing is suspect you conclude. Still, it has a clip for your belt, and per the small meter on the batter it appears charged.

You are ushered up creaking stairs and down a narrow hallway filled with doors, apparently the door at the end is yours. Its a small room, no wider than you are, with a window at your head and a cot on the floor. You have strong suspicions this was a broom closet; but you are tired, and it will do.
.......
On the second story of the inn, its quiet. You cant sleep, even if you want to. How can you? The damn cot is little thicker than a slice of bread. thin bread at that. the kind of bread a starving man might ration so he could enjoy bread another day. You suppose...you are hungry.

While eating the cheese from earlier today, which was only slightly crushed in during your adventures in pugalism, with weapons...hmm..the cheese is sharp and strong, well aged, well aged indeed. It went well with what ration crackers you had left. What were you thinking of again? The radio. yes.

Fiddling with it leads to you turning on the top unit, and eventually figuring out the speaker itself also has a power button. There are too many dials and knobs, and symbols you dont understand. The Voltanites have their own language and text that is beyond you, but eventually you bumblefuck your way into learning how to dial through channels.

Most of them are the alien language of the tripods, one in Nomad Grabraf chant about their god. You recall this one, its on constantly and never ends...it also live, so sometimes they make a mistake and that's good for a laugh. Eventually you discover music, music on the radio. The night is too long, sleep is too short. and soon its time to wake up.
https://youtu.be/ko5LE9DBtC0

1d20 and a choice my good anons.
---
> Time to check the ol' inventory
> Visit that factory. Just what are they up to?
> Walk around the village and get a lay of the land.
> Explore more of the inn.

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>4160052
> Visit that factory. Just what are they up to?
adventure!

>>4160096
yeah I'll supp this

>>4160096
>19

You awaken surprisingly refreshed and leave the strange Inn behind. The small radio rests clipped to your belt, off for the moment. The village is quickly left behind you as you walk down the length of it' high street and into an unkempt field, with little in the way of you and the factory.

Ahead the smell of rubber and leather grow ever stronger, almost nauseatingly so. Soon you find the factory, a two story structure, made of featureless concrete and large panel windows on the first floor, the second being a corrugated metal sheet expansion. Workers mill about outside, repairing and adjusting exposed conduit, ducting, and pipes. The Voltanites seem to favor an aesthetic that is lost on you.

While your appearance draws some looks, the locality has a right to bear arms, and none pay too much attention to you. Displaced soldiers looking for work are a common sight these days. You make your way to what might be the main entry; you can't read Voltanite script.

An older CG looks at you from a reception desk at the front of a warehoue. "We don't need another guard, Kholeskan, unless your lady has blessed you with a mind for leadership of a work floor there wont be much for you to do here...though we do have a sort of infestation..."

>I came here to see Voltanite Industry
>I came here to work. Any work.
>I came here to crusade. DEUS VULT! <crusade>
>Tell me something useful you little fuzzy shit <intimidate>

>>4160240
>I came here to work. Any work.

>>4160240
>I came here to crusade. DEUS VULT! <crusade>
As in, crusading for that infestation

>>4160240
>I came here to see Voltanite Industry
...and all I see is artless utilities

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>4160244
I will be supporting this and be the one person who does the rolling.

also add: "It doesn't have to be safe, it doesn't have to be here. It just needs to be paid."

>>4160240
>I came here to work. Any work.
we might be able to ingratiate ourselves to these voltanites if we clean up whatever infestation they have.

>>4160752
>19
"Anything. It doesn't have to be safe, it doesn't have to be here. It just needs to be paid." The older CG looks at you, slipping a set of monoculars from his headband to get more detail. "Hmf. Alright. Shame. Look like you've seen better times." His local pidgin is serviceable enough, as is yours. "Get through today, complete the list. Get paid. Come on." He hobbles down the main floor towards a strange shaft, a bell rings, doors slide open. Its a box. You stare. The CG doesn't wait "Get in, get in, damn bumkin."

You get disoriented on the elevator, it moves fast to throw off your equilibrium. This technology was rare in the unity, at least outside major cities. The second floor of the factory is dominated by a vulcanization process of hurkun cheese. Not the edible kind. at least not to you. Here they transform the cheese material into a rubberized substance, it reeks of chemicals up here. Loud machinery is muffled out as you put your helmet on in an attempt to block the noise. The CG looks at you "Ah, good. helmet. No need to issue. Good safety."

Eventually you are introduced to a large machine where you slide sheets of rubber in, step on a pedal, and cut out dozens of rubberized soles for boots. As your day goes on, you mindlessly blank thousands of rubberized soles for voltanite boots. The speed of the process is staggering. Carts of the things are wheeled down the line to another grabraf who slathers them with a type of chemical glue before pressing them to finished uppers. There is more machinery all over in various states of assembly, you recognize the foreign script of the tripods. Apparently before the years end, 80% of the workers will be no longer needed as automation takes over and boosts output by over 500%.

Its horrifying in a way, to think about this, if the voltanites can make enough boots for an army in a week, what else could they do? You shake your head to clear the thought, and wonder if the war had always been lost? Could a countryside of cottage industry keep up with one factory? It had it's weaknesses, it was a big target. to be sure. The idle thoughts and comparisons pass the day. Soon your shift is over, but the tasks are not yet done.

You look down at your duty card, crude translations were provided by another worker as the foreman didn't write any sujardin script on it. Its an odd thing, the voltanites just grab local manpower and throw it at the unskilled tasks, as long as it gets done it doesnt seem to matter who does it. When you check the master duty board, all that is left are the following jobs.
-------
>Clear the basement.
or
>Sort the boots for shipment.
or
>Quality control and test duty

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>4161069
>Apparently before the years end, 80% of the workers will be no longer needed as automation takes over and boosts output by over 500%.
remark upon this fact in order to appear knowledgable.
Say: "You know that Ozasari computers do most of the economic planning over at the Tripods? With that Ozasari tech, you won't be needing no workers anymore pretty soon."

After having established that, I think sorting boots would be a good next step. We might find something valuable that will help us during the next tasks. While working, try to find a channel on the radio that does Johanian Church service while you work for the enemy of faith, to feel just a bit better about it.

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>4161069
>quality control
One who controls the boots... controls the world

>>4161077
>>4161109

You attempt to make some small talk, but trip over your pidgin voltanite and let loose a stutter turned squawk. It is very undignified. Instead you mutter something about the embrace in your native tongue and come across as possibly brain damaged.

Attempts to put on some calming devotional music instead finds you blasting stitcher philosophy in their native tongues. It is horrific. You attempt to turn it off, but instead knock over an industrial shelving unit onto yourself, denting your breastplate in the process. This is a big mess. A big mess. The other workers just stare at you for a moment, as if you are filth.
---
>escape in shame.
>try to put it all back.
>act like nothing happened and go clear the basement.

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>4161226
>try to put it all back, hastily, sweatingly.

>>4161226
also, update my Pokedex: Stitcher. Or at least: Stitcher Philosophy Radio Programs.

>>4161226
>try to put it all back.
But the shit away, see if theres some place here that can reset the breastplate on our break, then go back to talking to that guy about the past control issue.

>>4160244
>>4160752
So why did you guys want to do unskilled labor? What did you expect?

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>4161237
Oh the fuck we're just rolling whenever now? Ok.

>>4161226
Fix the shelf, fix the breast plate, go back to that guitar side station and go get that job where we kill things instead of working as underpaid sweat shop worker like some 3rd world country bird subsisting off of $1 per hour.

>>4161239
What? We got pokemon in this quest?

>>4161244
>Oh the fuck we're just rolling whenever now? >Ok.
That's the game mechanic of the quest.
>What? We got pokemon in this quest?
ctrl+F pokedex

>>4161251
>pokedex
oh fuck you're right. Gotta kill em all.

>>4161237
>18
You put everything back to where it was fairly quickly, owing to the fact that you are a reasonably strong individual. The workers are fairly impressed at your ability to fuck up and simultaneously unfuck the situation. The floor boss considers the violent dumping of the boots to be sufficient, and they all get the pass. You consider that to be a dubious examination at best.

>15
Looking around, you spot a work station that is not occupied, as you are between work you use one of your mandated "breaks". The breast plate is crudely beaten back into shape with the help of a rawhide mallet used to affix the soles of higher end boots. After which the factory issues out all workers their daily ration. You get a rather large tin only identified as "noodles in sauce". Right to subsistence is apparently common within Voltanite territory. Not too hungry at the moment, you pocket the item.

>clear the basement.

You decide that you would rather clear the basement than deal with any more absurdity in menial labor. Taking the elevator back down a level gets you to the CG foreman at the main desk, he is watching crates of material come and go on little hauled pallet jacks, marking his tallies. "What?" Your card is signed off twice over by two floor bosses for duties done. Despite you not feeling exactly honest about them. "The basement. I'll take the basement." you want it. The little CG almost grins, the tell tale sign of amusement crinkles around his eyes. "OH? That? Yes. You will need things. yes."

A wad of rubberized garments are shoved at you. elbow length gloves, oversized waders with suspenders, and a thick artificial smock of tripod design, a this is in no way a galvanized substance. Lastly you are give a pair of goggles and wooden club with nails sticking out of it. The only warning you get is "No fire."
----
>Lets do this.
>yeah nah.
>Throw a volunteer down the stairs first.
>Write in.
Roll a 1d20.

File: Capture CG.png (88 KB, 376x335)

88 KB PNG

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>4161665

Take a closer look at the Cavern Grabraf's name tag:

"What's that foreman Hetkuz? You also want to come along down and show me the ropes?"

Before the CG can respond, pick him up in an armlock, cover his mouth and head on down to the basement. If anyone asks what you're doing, bluff them by replying that the foreman has just agreed to show how to perform your task.

>>4161715
>5

It is very clear you are kidnapping the foreman. It is also clear no one is going to attempt to stop you at this juncture in time. Indeed, another CG simply takes his place and in a moment its like it was never empty.

>5

The little hurkun licker bites your finger. Its a shame you didnt obtain those work gloves from the inn earlier. That...might require medical attention. You stifle a grunt of pain, and consider your options. The basement door is right there...and so is a small first aid kit.

>Take him down with you.
>toss him down.
>Snap neck and toss down.
>Let him go. apologize.
>write in.
>first aid. you will have to let him go.

1d20. roll.

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>4161731

Toss him down the stairs, hoping that it will knock him out and head for the first aid.

>>4161739
>9

You yank the light weight door right off it's hinges and throw him down the stairs, there is a hoot and scream, then lots of splashing, and more screaming. You aren't too concerned. The first aid kit is what you need. The symbol for aid amongst the voltanites is universal, so you yank open the little cabinet and hastily douse your finger in a burning fluid, and then one of their clotting bandages.

Thinking better of it, you shove the rest of the meager kit into your backpack.
>Gained 2 quick clotting gauzes.
>gained antibiotic powder
>gained emergency laxative

There are some instructions but its all written in voltanite. you have no idea what its saying? Why didnt you grab that booklet at the inn? No time to worry about it now.
----
>Go downstairs.
>Nope the fuck out.
>suit up first.
>Ignore the warning. Throw a grenade down.
>Write in.

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>4161750

"Did you fall down the stairs again, sir?"

Put on the safety gear we had just received (if those aren't already being worn) and head on down to see what became of your boss

>>4161758
People believe that the foreman fell down the stairs on his own accord, or they are afraid enough of you to believe that over the reality of what has been seen. Also no one really liked Hetkuz too much.

You wisely choose to suit up in all the protective accoutrements provided to you, holster your gun in it's back sheath, and pull out the bashing stick. As you descend, you smell it before you see it. Nomads. Not nomadic grabraf, but nomad grabraf. They have a pungent musk that really stinks up the place. The only good Nomad is the one that never comes out of it's stinking hole. Your beak grits on itself. Everyone has had to purge a nest at least once, if you let them spread, show any sympathy, they expand exponentially. After that, their culture tells them all TG must die, and PG are a close second as of late.

The bottom step of the stairs is submerged in a thick viscous liquid, and when you finally hit floor, your waders are covered up to mid shin. Its dark down here, but you can hear them. the splashing. Those little tentacles of theirs are deadly even to a TG. but unlike a TG it doesnt make them faster, just more stabby, and stronger to grip. You hear it again, a scuffle, scratching.

You look up. Its there, holding the body of the Foreman.
----
>REEEE KILL IT.
>REEEE KILL IT.
>REEEE KILL IT.
>think fast and look around.
>its a trap!
>run back up the stairs.

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>4161786

Use brains and look around.

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>4161786
>think fast and look around.

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>4161715
>>4161739
>>4161758
A serious of questionable decisions. Just why? Not saying they're bad ideas but why?

>>4161786
Beat a motherfucker with another motherfucker

>>4161794
>>4161804
>11+7
You Quickly scan around your environment. Yes, the sneaky little fucks were attempting to surround you. The thick muck stuck to their furred bodies which were waist high in the pollutants. Little tendrils lashed out, but your club moves faster and brains the little mongrel. Screeching in rage at the slaying of it's mate, the ceiling crawler drops on you, punching several holes through the brim of your helmet before you fling it into the muck where it skitters off into the dark, still shrieking in misery and sadness. You feel safe for the moment, and are still within the gloomy light being cast from the doorway.

>survey the area
>press on, there are NG to exterminate.
>examine the corpse of old Hetkuz.

1d20

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>4162047
>press on, there are NG to exterminate.

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>4162047
RIP AND TEAR
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Akx48dLnccQ

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>4162047

>2

THE LADY WILLS IT!

>>4162048
https://youtu.be/pNkQMtZAMAw
>>4162048

You mutter under your breath "The lady's wants...are many." truthfully, maybe, you were encouraged to go on your sabbatical. During the war, the ruinations you lead your men on were things of local legend. "Kholeskan eradicators" When the powder ran dry, and the thunder stopped, the screaming started. It was another time. You kick over a shelf, several smaller ones flee, their symbiotes undeveloped, perhaps stunted by this toxic mire. You see a big one struggling to life the metal shelving pinning it down; a boot crushes its head into the mire and soon the struggle stops.

The smaller ones couldn't hop/ swim fast enough and were subsequently clubbed like a malformed hurkun chick. The squeeks gradually reduce to silence, their simple instincts give them away as absent parents fail to rescue them. Now its just you and silence again. The other big one is down here, somewhere. Maybe more.

>Find a source of light
>Go back and check on the stairs.
>Press the hunt.
>Examine your surroundings

roll me a 1d20

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>4162077
>Press the hunt.
there is only kill! more fodder!

File: Some_Thinking_Grabraf.png (356 KB, 1920x2400)

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>>4162077
*lore update

TGs (Thinking Grabraf) are incredibly rare compared to your kind, and thankfully so. They are unto little demigods of war in the days of blade, culling 200 to 1. The gun was a great equalizer, but in this era they continue to adapt and evolve, their crystalline symbiote's semi liquid form takes shape and hardens to benefit their host.

That you attacked and survived your "fight" with Y'ler speaks volumes to possible madness, or indifference towards death for all that saw.

>>4162090
Oh my god. You could grate cheese with those abs they're so sharp. Max gay 10/10.

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>4162077
>>4162085


>Press the hunt

The path to our August Lady's good graces is filled with many trials and demands

>>4162091
>>4162085
It is based off Jojo. Of course it is gay. I take only blame for tripods. Also nice 13. a shame about that girthy 19 coming in.
>>4162092
https://youtu.be/bVvRLwmm2Tg
>19

The killing stick dips low, dragging bent nails across the surface of the water, just you and the sloshing. Its not so different from when you were pushing away a marsh assault near the Castigar's empire. You smell it again, not far now. Hiding there in the back, its eyes catch the light. "Die standing, or cowering, little wretch." your voice is tinny as it carries out from the mangled helmet. Pointing the club at it in challenge, it stays motionless, finally speaking, the voice small and melodic. Their capacity for song was rumored to be quite impressive. "Ours will be a tide that washes over this impure land, claiming it in the glory of skijafGHAACK" you cut its little monologue short, throwing the club into it's face, grabbing the stunned whelp by it's lashing tendrils, you plant a boot on it's back and begin to yank. The agony of it's nervous system being ripped out is enough to rouse the small creature from it's stupor. There are no more proclamations, and the anguish carries from the basement through the ducts, to the horrified worker above. Eventually flesh gives way and the pseudo tendons that connected the Discolodite to it's host give way, gutting the NG. The ruined body falls into the sludge, without even a twitch.

Wrapped around your arm is a gristly trophy, tightly squeezing, all logic gone, its bladed tips slash several gouges into your armor and gorget, but your grip on it's eye tightens until you feel a soft pop, more than hear it. Your hand is wet. the ruined lump of meat is dropped.

>Look for a light.
>Check on the corpse of the foreman.
>Survey the area for anything of value.
>Start clearing out the basement. Its what you were paid to do.

roll a 1d20 and pick an option.

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4162112
>Check on the corpse of the foreman.
You alive or ded senpai?

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>4162112

Put symbiote in our last grenade cylinder, finish the foreman off (if alive) and then check for valuables if we're quick enough to do it before anyone comes from above to check out the source of all that damn noise.

File: 1582180497272[1].jpg (8 KB, 299x297)

8 KB JPG

>>4162125

>>4162125
>1. TRAGIC.
As you walk away from the scene of ruin, one of your grenades manages to catch on an object, and pop off a puck.

If only you had checked your surroundings, or turned on a light. You know an uncooked puck has 3 seconds before it explodes. Its been a little less than a second, and you are already running because you heard the tell tale clink of a primer firing. You are in a small room, leading to a larger room, still surrounded by flammable sludge.
-
>run.
>Run
>RUN RUN RUN

roll a 1d20 best roll wins. 1 or 20 locks it in, first come first serve.

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>4162144
>RUN RUN RUN
On the bright side, the grenade WILL kill anything we missed

>>4162148
>19
1....2...you dont even hear the sloshing water, or one of your boot come off.....its a long two...three. The explosion was contained in the small room where the puck fell, but the basement rapidly fills with fire. A moment later the vapor in the basement ignites creating a secondary explosion which flings you off the last few stairs and out of the basement; the rubberized gear is ruined, and also sorta on fire.

Flinging off the boot, gloves, apron and waders as quickly a possible, your Kholeskan uniform is heavily soiled now. Regrettable. Also people seem to be fleeing the factory with alarming rapidity. The fire seems to be spreading quickly. In chaos there is opportunity, but today its looking like you aren't getting paid as intended, but...maybe compensation can still be had.
----
>Check the front desk office, see if you can loot anything
>A new pair of boots would be good.
>Seems someone dropped a nice flashlight.
>Break the elevator.

roll 1d20

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>4162167
>Check the front desk office, see if you can loot anything
I'unno take anything really. More guns, armor, currency. A safe?

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4162167
>Check the front desk office
but right after
>Picking up a new pair of Voltanite boots

If the capabilities of Voltanite factories are to be believed, they wouldn't miss a pair of boots. Or a boot factory, for that matter, yeah.

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>4162176
>>4162604
supporting these

>>4162604
>17+14

The place is going up in flames, so you choose to be pragmatic. Graabbing a large canvas sack from the warehouse floor you make your way to the former foreman's position of power, grabbing a pair of good fitting boots along the way, earmarked for the Voltanite army homeland. The front desk office is a simple concrete room, with no windows, and plenty of boxes stacked high with samples of this and that. You have no way of opening the safe without expending a grenade puck, but the small desk made for a CG is quickly ransacked. Revealing petty cash likely intended for the workers today, as well as some snacks and a few odds and ends. Outside people are looting, the smarter ones are using pallet jack and vehicles to move crates into the loading yard away from the flames. Overhead water start to fall, but it doesn't reach the office.

gained
>Voltanite cash envelope. large.
>Random Voltanite MREs and a folding tray set
>a bottle of spicy brafi
>electric lamp, just the head.

You could still try to blow the safe, but it would use the last puck on your current grenade, and who knows whats inside. could be useless. Outside there is a horrific hissing and screeching, people are screaming.

>Blow the safe.
>Escape in the chaos.
>Find out whats going on out there?

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>4163062
It's not worth it wasting our last grenade, better just wing it outta here, do try to see what's up with the commotion outside though

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>4163088
supporting

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>4163062

Time to get the hell out of there!

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>4163062
>rip it out with pur birb strength
loot is loot

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>4162176
>A new pair of boots would be good.

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4163243
You get the hell out, simply running out the front door of the factory, but not before...
>>4163286
Simply picking up the small safe and taking it with you, its certainly heavy, but not worse than a crate of ammo from the war.
>>4164916
you steal a second pair of boots. because yes. rolling for random boot quality.

>>4165035
>>4162604
boots are fated to be 17.

You now have two pairs of high quality Voltanite military boots, exactly in your size.

you now also own one "SMALL SAFE"
---
Rushing away you throw the safe in some distant bushes that you can come to later, people are beginning to congregate outside the factory. Many of them with their own sacks, full of personal belongings from their work area, and not at all looted goods.

>you will have to find something that can open the safe later.

The new younger CG foreman is looking at the factory, the flames are still licking at places here and there, but the extinguishing system has taken the worst of the bite. You wander around the factory and see a set of levers. Someone has turned off the fuel feeds to the machines, and the water is on.
----
>talk to the people up front.
>talk to the foreman
>sabotage the factory.
>go back to town and look for something to open the safe.

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>4165046

Socialize with the people up front, we might learn some useful stuff. Also sneak in an "uh.. so anyone got a crowbar?" into the conversation.

Rolled 17, 19 = 36 (2d20)

>>4165061
supporting. But instead of a crowbar, ask for inksoil bee ink. should do the trick.

also, try to get some gospel on the radio again (second roll)

>>4165061
>13
The people seem pretty remiss, its not that the job was great, but it was their livelihood. The town is likely gonna hurt for a bit because apparently the manager's office burned out pretty bad, and part of the second floor collapsed in. Basement is still burning though.

You think back to the envelope of petty cash sitting in your backpack. The small CG foreman is addressing the crowd, giving them assurances it may be a few weeks, but the voltanites will ensure their backpay.

Talking to a few of the people, you speak with a former soldier from the Castigar territories who is here to examine what new resources the voltanites can provide to their army. Its a small novelty to speak with another former soldier. Somehow you stumble onto the topic of tincloth, which apparently is a process to make proof of water your clothing and resistant to fire. He mentions for a small fee it can be done on your uniform, though its going to need patching and some mending.

Another grabraf is from former Exherst, a bit older, and rare "TG" without the symbiote. Apparently there is a minor warlord from the abandoned eastern TG cities near the NG territory boarding in this village, building up fighting forces in each town visited. There was something about rumors of voltanite biological experimentation too, but it was lost on you. Possibly a front, but what? A store front?

Lastly you meet a very odd Cavernous Grabraf, it is massivly tall with no legs and too many arms. It assures you that a birth defect took its arms and legs, but it is legally and bindingly so, a CG, and not anything else. The jeweled mask of a CG face seems fairly convincing, and you have no reason to believe otherwise. The conversation is short, and mostly focused on it quizzing you about Kholeska and its resources, you left feeling pretty good about Ozarasi made goods though. It gave you a new peice of technology as a sample, a "needle point pen". It broke shortly after you got it, and stained the sleeve of your uniform with inksoil.

It seems like everyone is starting to head back to the village, there isint much more to do. Several Voltanite soldiers are guarding the factory entries now, and the foreman is making a call on a larger radio set. Nearby a few of the factory guards are setting up tents and cots. Looks like they don't want to leave that factory unguarded.

You hear the warbling, wet, screeching from earlier. This seems to unnerve the little CG foreman quite a bit.

>chase the noise.
>Head back to town to resupply, take stock of your inventory, and find a tool to break open the safe.
>Case the factory, wait for the crowd to disperse and loot some more at night.
>Write in. (With your own plan or idea)

as always, roll a 1d20

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>4165137
find someone to repair our equipment with our petty cash.

Also, there seems to be a merc army gathering nearby. that'd be a good job for us.

>>4165137
One of the leather crafters has a workers apron still on, full of various bottles and tools. Inquiring about the inksoil, he hands it to you with no questions asked. You are after all the man who volunteered to fight the basement demons.

With much greater luck you find a nice gospel song of sorts within the region. It fills you with [DEVOTION].
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AiuC_CaObbI

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>4165154
whistle along with the song while burning open the safe behind a building

>>4165189
Hiding in the thick bushes like some low brow FG, and whistling a tune like a shitting NG,
you use the entire container of inksoil acid to burn through the thinner metal at bottom of the safe. You get a good grip on the thin metal and manage to yank back on it, the material giving way. It was a very cheap safe.

It gives way, revealing a few bottles of a brafi soda, you think. its bottles. it smells brafi. There is also a large sealed folder of papers, photos and schematics, its too much to look at right now. The last item is another large stack of Voltanite cash. You also take a moment to awkwardly put on the voltanite boots, heavy duty metal clips hold them in place. Having never worn boots before you are unsure how to feel. You are taller now, that is good. Your feet are more protected. this is also good, but your talons are covered, and you can't feel the texture of the earth below. This is bad. Walking is awkward, you move about like a CG trying to chase a hurkun. It crosses your mind you might be racist, but such ideology is non existent thus far, and leaves immediately.

>lost opportunity: The safe is left behind, stained with inksoil, as are your hands now blackened, as are the sleeves and gloves of your uniform. Conspicuous.
-----
Gained
>2x brafi <drink>
>Fat stacks of voltantie cash
>Mysterious documents
-----
The small village is just a short walk away, and being high day the fire has drawn most shop keeps out of their establishments. Where do you want to go? you have some time to kill.

>The inn.
>The Diner and Tavern
>The alley with a shady CG nearby
>Leatherman and tannery
>Handyman shop
>General store
>Voltanite Peace keeper's office
>Nearby park, inventory your assets.

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>4165237

>Leatherman and tannery

Let's use some of our newly acquired dollaridos to pay some guy to make us new gloves (the fingered kind) and sew some sick ass leather onto the sleeves of our uniform.

>>4165273
support

>>4165273
i odn't wanna mess with that roll.

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>4165237
>The alley with a shady CG nearby
color me interested

>>4165273
The tannery reeks of processing chemicals and rotting flesh. It takes you back. The stringy looking PG stares at you hawkishly "yeh? Fek'd'wunt?" The accent is thick, but its a tuzan to be sure. You lay out the work you want, and even mention that tincloth. Turns out using inksoil wax or even tallow can do the trick. You coat the clothes and leather with wax, and use a flame to melt it to the clothes. Celebrating your newfound wealth you buy the best. The Inksoil wax darkens your clothes considerably, and the wearing sections of your great coat are reinforced with treated leather.

The new gloves are sturdy and fingerless, bordering on gauntlets. "Comebacknew'ifnyafeelsobligedtaspendabitmoreayerdosh." Yes. Tuzan, a beautiful dialect. Lady purge them.

>Pick from any other choice above for destinations.
----
>>4165328
The small CG eyes you eagerly. "Buying and selling my friend. Always buying and selling." You aren't sure what he has, but it appears to be "rights" to things.

>The identity of a CG who pawned it.
>Debt for two tons of Zaibatsu potted meat. Post canning weight.
>A one way ticket to the Zaibatsu
>Employment rights in the subter Territory

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>4165364

Option 5: "I'm looking for something more.. exotic"

Let's see what more the little fellow has in his pockets.

File: shittyscripting.png (6 KB, 157x315)

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>>4165371
"OH. Well. Yes. Exotic, I can do this for you. A small transaction for it." You hand the small grabraf a handful of voltanite coin, you have plenty. A debt script is placed on your belt. You go to look at it and start to catch bits of the debt, its written in there different langauges, but is quite...profane.

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>>4165394
Before you can attempt to get a refund for this very sinful debt, a screeching that does not belong entirely to a grabraf fills the alley. "KHOOOOOLESSSSKAAAAAAAN!!!!" Turning to face your accusor, you see the Old foreman. He...does not look well at all. "THE PAPERS KHOLESKAN. GIVE...ME...THE...PAPERSSSS"

>Give him the papers.
>Give him the gun.
>DEUS VULT. THE BLADE IS WHAT HE GETS.
>Give him the grenade (x1 puck)
>Give him the grenade (3x puck, whole grenade. you have 3 full grenades left)
>Attempt to intimidate the insane monster.

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>4165408
Papers? You mean these?

Throw some debt paper in its direction as a distraction, and in that moment give the abomination the gun.
https://youtu.be/ZWjxRwHTZiw

>>4165420

You fling the debt papers from your belt and jump back as they rustle in the breeze. The tentacled freak shrieks and grabs that them, it's one non symbote eye trying to scan it. "FALSE! FALSE!!!" Before old Hetkuz can turn to face you, you are already unloading into him with your service rifle. All ten of your rounds feed from the box magazine, into his body; his torso is cored out, but the glimmer of hatred remains. Pulped organs drag behind his body as he seems to almost...skip...towards you. Despite the grievous damage you notice first hand the tendrils are pulling things back in place, trying to plug holes, and sort of...pumping. It very ugly. All things said, you could probably walk away at a fast pace now, he doesnt seem to be too spry anymore.
----
>Brain Hetkuz with your rifle.
>Rooty tooty point and shooty.
>The blade.
>The puck.
>The whole she-bang.
>write in.

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4165478
Shove a puck in the creature's mouth and walk away.

Cool brafs don't look at explosions

>>4165488
support

>>4165488
You shove a puck in the creature's mouth and walk away. You are now at exactly 3 koleskan grenades remaining.

An explosion and wet splat lets you know the former Foreman is now decorating the walls of the alley. You turn back quickly to get your debt papers, its all you have, aside from a large, large, volume of voltanite cash.

Bits of symbiote are still wriggling. You take the time to stab each one in the eye and make sure its down for good. There is a little metal tube that catches your eye, you pocket it. The Voltanite peace keepers are already shouting and making their way to see what the commotion is. The little CG you bought the "comfort" slip from is pointing towards you from outside the alley, jumping up and down.

>Take off.
pro: avoid capture
con: maybe get shot to death.
>Wait and answer their questions.
pro: maybe a reward
con: maybe get captured
>turn the corner and hide out until night.
pro: maybe not get captured
con: maybe get captured in humiliating fashion.
>Write in.

>>4165535
>Wait and answer their questions.

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>4165558

>>4165562
"THATS THE ONE! RIGHT THERE!" The little CG hops up and down pointing. Ah a hero's reward for slaying another monster. You are shot several dozen times by the Voltanite peace keepers. The upside is, the weapons were firing rubberized slugs. The downside is, you are in a cell, stripped of your belongings.

Looking around, you are sitting in a solid walled room, no bars. Heavy metal door. Hinges on the outside, opening from the outside to in. There are no windows, but an air vent above you; however its on the ceiling dead in the middle of the room. Not that you are really up for acrobatics right now, your entire body hurts. That probably would have killed you if your armor and helmet didn't take the first blows. Its too bright in here, and the lights make a buzzing noise that is just barely audible, but annoying. There is no toilet, but a small fist sized hole on the floor. You are guessing what it is for right about now. There is no bed. The entire room smells of sewer gas.

Taking assessment of your self you have:

>Your heavy leather gloves.
>An undershirt
>Pants
>Voltanite boots

They also trimmed your finger talons, which really makes you look like a little bitch or big priss to other PGs.

Some voices outside are speaking pure voltanite, but then go away, becoming fainter. A small slit at the bottom of the door opens, and you get a voltanite MRE from an unseen source. Looking it over, you cant tell what it is. The grey waxed paper wrapper offers no clues. Tearing it open you find a rehydration pouch, and three meat bars of unknown providence with Zaibatsu markings on them.

Everything tastes like chemicals. The meat bars taste like chemicals and blood. You notice a little packet in the MRE with a sphere. It tastes sour and sweet. Very crunchy, slightly astringent mouth feeling. You finish off the chemical tasting fluid.

There is still an accessory packet. Nice.
-----
What do you do?

>Check the cell again. In detail. (write in ideas, and feel free to roll)
>wait to see who comes.
>exercise to fight the pain
>Check the MRE accessory packet.

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>4165618
>Check the MRE accessory packet
>exercise to fight the pain
Check the happy meal toy first I guess. We'll need full gloves since we got not talons no more.

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>>4165642
GET FIT TALK SHIT

>>4165642
https://youtu.be/G3US0Y2JLnw

You carefully rip the packet open, and out spills pills and a knuckle duster, the markings on it place it somewhere in the "xero band" of nations. Xerhonoke, SoX, or Castigars. This wasn't supposed to be part of the meal...a small crumpled note falls out. You can read it, which is a nice change. "Take 1 pill a day. See you soon."

Who are you to question the letter. The pills crunch easily, again, slightly sweet and sour. This time however, you feel...very good. Energetic.

For the next two days straight, you work out, sleep, eat, and pass excretions into a small hole in the ground, keeping the knuckle dusters tucked on yourself. No one bothers you, no one talks to you. On the second day, already cranking along, your door abruptly opens; a guard has come to visit you. He has a baton. Knucle duster on, you spring on him like a hurkun in heat and beat the shit out of him before two more guards come to beat you in turn. You barely feel the blows, and the kick to the face really only pushed you back. There is a baton just inside your reach, and now in grasp.

Quick and violent work is made of the two guards, snapping the knee of one, and slamming the cell door on the other's head. A few follow up punches stop both from moving much more. Well. That escalated quickly. The third guard just sort of stares at you from behind his transparent helmet, sort of mouthing words that don't make noise. Broken knee just moans a lot. Smashed head guy seems sort of alive but not too much for the movement.
----
>Finish them, and steal an outfit.
>Trying real hard here to not murder everyone, just disarm them and find your stuff.
>Time to take that last pill and do one of the above.
>Interrogate.

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>4165858
>Time to take that last pill and do one of the above.
But ONLY if we haven't taken our daily pill yet. How many pills are left?
>Trying real hard here to not murder everyone, just disarm them and find your stuff.
And I guess consider releasing another prisoner or two to act as a distraction. Uh the location we're going to get our stuff back should hopefully have other goodies from other inmates/prisoners.

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>>4165884
>5
oof. prison fight scene is a go

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>4165858
>Take pillz
>Disarm everyone, find stuff
Also say to the guard (who probably don't know your language) that the factory was the NG's fault in the sewers.

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>>4166008

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>4165858
>>Finish them, and steal an outfit.
And find our fucking stuff.

>>4166262
ya know, count this as supporting >>4166008 . People seem to not want to kill the guard.

>>4166326
A short time later the guards are bound with their own pants, tied in a trio,and thrown into the cell around the shitting hole. You frisk them for useful items and then chomp your last pill. It was a day too early and your body feels overwhelmed, like you need to run, or laugh, or scream. Its great and its terrible. You are too hot, and...thirsty. Oddly craving something spicy too.

Current equipment
>clothes on your back.
>Voltanite military boots
>Prison guard vest (stab and shot resistant)
>Prison guard web belt
>Key ring
>walkie talkie
>Minor first aid kit (not yet examined)
>Knuckle duster
>collapsible baton
>disabling spicy chemical spray (one shot)

Your head hurts, the little device at your side is making a lot of noise, and that pisses you off too. The guards dont speak The Lady's Sujardinese for fuck all, and you cant profess your innocence. On the upside, you are much more mobile than you used to be. You stand down a long hallway of metal doors, numbered, and an obvious exit at the end. For the internal dimensions you assume this is the Voltanite local office. It not too big of a building. Single story. long, bent roughly on a 45 degree angle. You are probably in the "drunk tank".

>Peak through the view sots.
>book it for the exit
>Examine the area

Roll for it!

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>4166337
>Examine the area
where's my shit

>>4166342
consensusing the fuck outta that.

I wanna draw an updated portrait but for that I need to know what we still have

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>4166343

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4166337
>>4166342
Seconding, thirding and homerunning

>>4166350
>1
Alarm start sounding, and you hear a hissing. You to run for the door at the end of the hall, but it slams shut. A voice from no where sounds out "Kholeskan...Unity. You superstitious, backwards, ignorant fucking filth. Don't think your spying has gone unnoticed. Don't think the butcher of the north shores wouldn't be so obvious to us! Coming to our research center, killing the lead scientist, stealing critical notes and sabotaging our way forward...Its a damn shame you didn't side with the senate. We could have surpassed the tripods with this, now its dead, and you can die with it."

All the doors on the cells slam open, out comes a mix of Grabrafs and...things that should not exist. Your hallway is wide enough for two grabrafs to squeeze into, and the stuff in those pills has you feeling bold.
-----
>Fight to live
>Rally the grabrafs
>FREEDOM FOR ALL LIES THROUGH THE DOOR!

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>4166412
Option 4: the scene from Oldboy.

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4166412
>Rally the grabrafs
I mean if we fail we're still just gonna fight them all

>>4166418
What's that? Like shooting the dog? But we dont have a gun.

>>4166464
>What's that?
you absolute filistine
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcqYDCDubog

>>4166418
>19: A reference to oldboy, the correct one? Who am I to refuse.

Back to the door, you begin to viciously beat ass down the hall, your stolen vest dampens some of the blows, and the pills numb the rest. You give a good as you get, short vicious jabs with the knuckle duster punishes anyone who gets close while those who fall back catch the crushing head of the collapsible baton.

The shrieking dregs of this place have lost all sanity, and all are showing signs of mutation and disfigurement, surgical scars and prod burns. The worst of them have danging tendrils with varying degress of functionality. Talons and beaks tear at you, hungry. Their meal is iron. Grabbing a mutated CG by the scruff, the baton is jammed down it's throat before being thrown into an adjacent room, smacking wetly against a concrete wall. Those who fall are trampled under boot and claw, by you or the others of this place.

You fight past reason, and into exhaustion. All the while the small walkie talkie is blurting out conversation, you pick up loan word and common items.

After far too long, its you. Just you. There is a shiv in your back, your face is pretty busted up, but you turn around to see the metal door to the rest of the facility open. The guards. The spicy spray has two modes of operation; spray from afar at a few targets, or explode as a grenade full of spicy air. A few of the Voltanites are wearing respirators and masks, but there are more than you can see through the doorway. Behind you the freaks begin to rouse once more, you were sure you had killed a few of them. The distinctive clacking of voltanite scatterguns can be heard.

>17: Rally the freaks
"Thats who you want, less I beat you again." you point at the guards, speaking to the fallen. The tide of flesh begins it' press towards the guards.

----

>Surrender (why?)
>Grenade
>Spray
>Stand aside in one of the rooms and let the freak meet the guards.
>Lead the charge
>Other.

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>4166704
>>Stand aside in one of the rooms and let the freak meet the guards.

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>4166726

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>4166704
>Lead the charge
RIP and Tear. Blood!

>>4166726
>69
nice

>>4166726
>69: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7KTB3t1t7dk "LET THE MATING BEGIN"

>10
You avoid the wave of freaks but just barely, having to expending your spicy spray to keep them from coming at you. Loud bangs fill the hallway momentarily, before the wild hooting, shrieking drowns it all out. Screaming carries on for a while. You use this moment to patch up with the minor first aid kit. It had several clotting bandages, some antibiotic powder and painkiller pills. all of it was used. The bleeding has stopped, but what concerns you more is that you never noticed in the first place. Your dusters broke in the violence, at some point you were just beating people bare knuckled. The walkie talkie was also smashed in the brawl.

>lost spicy spray
>lost knuckle dusters
>lost first aid kit.
>lost walkie talkie.

>gained: Mangled radio parts.
---
Its gotten pretty quiet now, the horrific sounds are in the distance. You feel like its a good time to make a break for it.
---

>Check check for anything useful in the bodies.
>Just run,GTFO.
>Keep searching for your lost gear.

gimme a 1d20

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>4166804

"Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless."

I'm coming for you, friendo!
Search for lost gear.

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>4166804
>Your dusters broke in the violence
>punch so hard the metal broke
That's metal as fuck.

>Keep searching for your lost gear.
WHERES MY SHIT DICE GODS

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>4166813
>>4166827
supporting

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>4166804
>Keep searching for lost gear

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>>4166813
>>4166827
>>4166829
These rolls man

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>>4166830
God dammit. NOW WHAT. More guards? This is one hell of an intense prison break.

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>4166834
>>4166830
>>4166829
>>4166827
>>4166813
I USE MY LADY'S FAVOR!

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>>4166841
SHE HAS FORSAKEN US

>>4166830
>Down the hall, there is an explosion that shakes the whole building, you know someone fucked with the grenades you had. you just fucking know it. Rushing past the corpses you make your way to the blown out room. Fragments of your nice coat lay in ruins, your...precious...fucking...radio is annihilated, the armor is shredded and all over the place and your gun is in pieces. Lady's judgement. Lady's oath. Fucking fuck. Xerho's spicy spit. Its all ruined. A lot seems to be missing. Maybe its somewhere else. This was all you had, all that that was left of your service, and friends.
Unable to let go of the memories, you shove it all in a bag. The spare voltanite boots were totally destroyed, but not worth keeping.

Gained:
>More broken parts
>Destroyed (improved) Kholeskan coat
>Destroyed Kholeskan armor
>Destroyed Kholeskan rifle.

Oh no...oh no. The Spaghetti...its falling out of your pockets. The ration tins were still in there! Somewhere outside one of the Hurkunized mutants walks the paleolithic pouchytail.

Clearing your head, you look around. This room is destroyed. Weapons. Armor. Up ahead is a way outside, but there are Voltanites battling the last few mutants. You see pictograph signs ahead, likely for local hires to learn the voltanite script. "Kholekan. We were wrong to underestimate your people in the great war, but that mistake won't be made again. This continent can survive the purge, we can remake it in our image. You have shown me that now." you hear rumblings outside, explosions. muffled. far away. You feel overwhelmingly thirsty.
---
>Go upstairs to the roof.
>Go to the armory
>quickly try to salvage from the corpses near by.
>The infirmary
>Ignore the signs, there is a big safe still standing in the blown out room, and you have a key ring!

>>4166857
>Write in: Sneak out of the building, we clearly dont want people to know you are responsible for this mess

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>4166886

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>4166857
>Go to the armory
VENGENCY SHALL BE MINE!

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Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>4166857

THEY BREAK OUR COMPANION. WE BREAK THEM. *flashbacks to the war* THERE IS NO TIME TO BE LOST. KHOLESKANS! TODAY THE ENEMY IS AT OUR DOOR. WE KNOW OUR DUTY AND WE WILL DO IT. WE FIGHT FOR OUR HONOUR AS KHOLESKANS! AS PLAINS GRABRAFS! WE FIGHT IN THE NAME OF THE LADY!

IF WE DIE THIS DAY WE DIE IN GLORY. WE DIE HEROES' DEATHS! BUT WE SHALL NOT DIE! NO! IT IS THE ENEMY WHO WILL TASTE DEATH! WE WILL DESCEND UPON THE FOE. WE WILL OVERWHELM THEM! WE WILL LEAVE NONE ALIVE!

WE ARE THE LADY'S FURY!

Go to the armory. Once armed to the teeth begin operation Dance of the Crystknight. Where the dance is wholesale slaughter and the dance partners are the sods unfortunate the be situated in this place on this day.

All this while on the top of our lungs singing "Sanguine Justice". Probably the Kholeskan equivalent of this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VoF9HUvYPKs

>>4166888
16>you really want to sneak way, but cant. They know who you are. The loudspeaker voice addressed you as the Kholeskan and known prior to that in the was as the Butcher of the north shores, you have been recorded and documented and are a well known factor apparently.

>>4166897
>13+ reluctant 16

You find in the armory suits of peace keeping riot armor, weapons, riot shield, chemical and flashbang grenades...and Brafi(?) drink. Also your missing cash and those cryptic documents....you will come back for these. probably.

>Take the regular armor, and a heavy belt fed voltanite machine gun.
>Take the riot armor, riot shield, and automatic shotgun.
>Take the combat drugs, riot shield, grenades, and breaching maul (used for breaking down doors and walls)
>Is...is that an exo skeleton?

they all have their pros and cons.

Also roll 2d20, first for the pick of the gear and the second for your resistance to drinking that thirst quenching...Braff(?)

Rolled 17, 2 = 19 (2d20)

>>4166926
>Take the riot armor, riot shield, and automatic shotgun.
>Take the combat drugs, riot shield, grenades, and breaching maul (used for breaking down doors and walls)
>Is...is that an exo skeleton?
Any reason why we can get all three? I just want armor, the hulk suit, the shield, maul and drugs. Maybe anything else we can carry if we have a backpack.
Documents and cash too.

>>4166926
So here's my idea. Between the regular and riot armor we should pick the one with the most protection. Unfortunately I've no clue which is better. If the exo skeleton can be work over armor then yeah take that. If it cant then we ditch the armor in favor for the exoskeleton.
After that we grab a sack and stuff the booze, money, drugs, documents in there and put the grenades where they can be easily accessed. Between the machinegun and the shotgun, let's grab the one that can fit a sling on it so we can carry it hands free.

Theeeen we go sword and board style with the maul and shield.

>>4166932
17> There is no kill like overkill.

You quickly climb into the Voltanite riot suit, its superficially similar to any other heavy armor you have interacted with in the past, though their design includes more clever self adhering straps and is surprisingly light weight. The Helmet was certainly not built for a wide filed of view, and lock in pretty snugly around the neck. You are already crunching those combat stims. This suit seems to have a built in respirator. nice.

the suit is a tight squeeze into the Exo, but you just about fit. The memories from late in the war of the voltanites deploying these one man force multiplier is bitter. Exo enabled soldiers could carry heavy weapons and heavier armor, cutting down entire squads of Kholeskans trained to fight in traditional ways. You had learned to lure them into the sand where they tend to fall down, get stuck, then you can get in with the blade...

you leave the Exo's docking cradel, the noisy two stroke engine kicking on, providing hydraulic and Pneumatic pressure. Each motion you make is a loud hiss or whoosh. Your hands clamp around the shield and maul, unable to manipulate the small grenades.
-----
>Violence
>Head straight out the front door, shield up.
>Use the suit to break out the side of the building, and surprise them
>Take the roof and jump down.

1d20

>>4166972
>2: The Braff.

Its the taste you cant resist. Before suiting up you failed and drank both bottles of the thirst quenching tonic, and while your thirst is gone, your body is burning. Its not in a good way either, but between the combat stims and everything else you've poured into yourself, its pretty manageable.

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>4166972
>Violence
>Braff
We going on a rampage.
https://youtu.be/3Si7X0Ehbf8

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4166857
>THE SAFE!

Also, strongly consider converting to Xerhonism as the lady has clearly forsaken us.

>>4167029
What safe?

>>4167029
>>4167029

https://youtu.be/zOxuQBe_cL8

>17: your enhanced strength from the Exo and combat stimulant haze allows you to simply rip the door off of the safe. Inside is a varity of papers, another stock of voltanite cash, unidentifiable weapons and electronics....it would be interesting if your brain wasn't on fire and your mind full of murder. If you survive you will be back here later.

You can only assume this is the will of Xerho that guides you, and it feels right. You can taste the copper on your tongue, and hear the rush of blood in your ears. There is so much fire in you, and it is power, it is hunger, and it must be used without restraint or concern before the need eats you alive.

>>4167002
>13
Stomping out into the open like a little engine of destruction, you are immediately assaulted by a squads worth of automatic fire. flipside: the Voltanite armor handily absorbs the damage, small chunks of armored foam flaking off, exposing a discolored yellow beneath the blue and grey paint. The first peace keeper to run up to you gets a hammer to the side of the head, splattering gore in a beautiful arc. You sing a hymn to Xerho as a piston driven foot crushes the chest of the corpse. Its so hard to focus now, even remembering to keep the shield up. Discipline. Hold onto the discipline. Advance and kill.
----
Roll to not loose your fucking mind.
1d20

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Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>4167094

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>>4167107
It begins

>>4167107
>20: help me. Im a fraud of a GM. what am I even doing.blzgooby.why?

There are many who have said the will of the fated is unbreakable. Xerho smiles upon your rampage, awakening the most basic and primal parts of what it is to be a grabraf of the plains.

You stay supremely focused, ensuring that you do not waste the armor afforded to your self. Outflanking the peace keepers lets you take advantage of their mobility to quickly herd them back into the Voltanite regional office. Those that don't seek shelter from your wrath are massacred, becoming streaks of crimson on manicured brafigrass. Soon you are returning into the Voltanite office, a massivly bulked frame blocks the door way, the shield still absorbing bullets, but starting to show significant wear. Room by room you clear the office, gunfire is responded with dull meaty thuds. Before you can clear the entire building, the remaining peace keepers isolate themselves in the cells.

>The new prisoner will tell you what they know now.

"Tootin's breath!" You turn to see a familiar face. Its Y'ler, her discolodite familiar trails near by. Looking down your form is covered in gore. She moves to attack.
----
>Fight!
>Let her know its you, and fight anyway
>Try and de-escalate the situation

1d20

Rolled 8 (1d20)

>>4167187
>Try and de-escalate the situation
To be fair, whatever god controls fate has been taking the piss out of him.

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4167187
>Try and de-escalate the situation

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>>4167199
>17: Rationality

The Discolodite's blade punches through your helmet tearing it off, daylight momentarily blinds you while you hold your arms up. "Y'ler! Pankration league!"

She stops for a moment and looks at you. "Oh! Kholeskan! I'm so very happy I didn't pull your head off! What are you doing here?"
----
>Explain here and now
>Get stuff from the armory, and explain over an MRE meal.
>Im really starting to not feel so good, but there is a ton of stuff in the safe. it doesnt have a door.

pick a choice and roll. We are hitting the end of this immediate arc.

>>4167348
>Im really starting to not feel so good, but there is a ton of stuff in the safe. it doesnt have a door.

>>4167348
Is that a parasite in her abdominal?

>>4167366
yes, sort of. see:>>4162090
long story: I am not the creator of this lore, simply a poor, poor custodian telling a story in whats already made. Essari is a weird enough place to make it fun.
>>4167357
You promptly drop like a sack of Inksoil surprise, the world and noise growing dimmer and more muffled as the moment pass. The last thing you see is Y'ler holding a debt note with pink script on it. It looks like she is yelling something, its a little too hard to figure out.
----
>Roll a 1d20 to not die from taking too many drugs, drinking unknown brafi tonics, and getting beat to hell and back.

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>4167378
come on baby second wind

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>>4167399
While you were in a two day "Big nap" or as the locals say "Coma". A lot happened. Y'ler and her insurrection found that you apparently single handedly sabotaged the Voltanite research station here, and lead a one man war against the local garrison. The voltanites at large dont seem to be aware of the efforts here, or are playing very dumb, very well.

An attendant at the local inn has been taking care of you for the past month and a half while you convalesce, filling you in on things:

Significant efforts were underway to develop a repeatable technique for harvesting and implanting NG symbiotes into host grabrafs, enhancing their physical capability in enough of a move to repulse a theoretical Tripod Invasion (or possibly invade tripod territory). Most efforts only made monsters, and the most recent advent had not yet been documented off site. The mystery of the who started the project, or how it was guided was lost.

A sprawling underground complex was found, and is in the process of being repurposed to support local industry and habitation. Significant stores of material were found, but the Voltanites who have replaced the disgraced Peace Keepers insist the material was strategic reserves of the great war, and nothing more. There were no planned VEMA death camps. G'alic Yhons is a sensationalist radio personality who yells too much and the Ozasari probably are his backers. Life gradually returns to its normal pace within the month.

Y'ler herself was raised in the shadow of the great war as a teenager, living with her mother and barely knowing her father; an eccentric NG from the west, who always wore old rusty armor. Now an adult, she had spent the last several years trying to make Sujardin a better place, rooting out wrongs, doing overly idealistic things at great risk. As of late she has taken care of the village, and oversaw the expansion of it's own standing militia.

The village attracted many new minds and talents who would in turn draw more of their ilk. Who came while you were asleep?

A strange three armed Ozasari affiliated CG
Steam Tinkerers from Huzduk
A group of "peace keepers" from Tuzan
A Voltanite mogul who planned several additional factories "since the labor force was in place"
A displaced gunsmith and inventor from former TG cities in Nomad's territory
Tuzan hurkun herders
Xerhonoke nobility
A minor but shrewd trade prince
Unity Priestesses

Pick 3, and roll a d20.

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>4167436
I still don't know much about the universe and lore, but I suppose there the fun in making uneducated guesses.
>A strange three armed Ozasari affiliated CG
>Steam Tinkerers from Huzduk
>Unity Priestesses

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>>4167486
oh baby I'm on a roll today

>>4167486
The Ozasari would dig deeply into the little town, buying rights to identities and establishing themselves as movers of item; usually of dubious quality.

The region was soon a prime importer of potted meat, which became a very minor, but very real rival to hurkun cheese as a backing of debt script.

The Steam tinkerers of Huzuduk ensured a factory was set up for type 6 locomotives, and nicely synergized with efforts to build a railway and hub network to war torn settlements. This brought prosperity and seedy element both to the small village.

the Unity Priestesses found a very...uncomfortable existence amongst the Voltanites who had no faith, and actively discouraged such. However their ability to sway the population and influence them began to create a new paradigm of understanding. Perhaps this could be more useful than they thought. Perhaps this could be what was needed for grander plans after all. A great tootin temple was erected, and water from the ladie's river itself was used to fill the temple pool. >The Ozasari provided it, and it is certainly not 100% spicy Braf soda. Its barely carbonated or sweetened at all.

What was once a single street village would grow into a large manufacturing and logistics hub in the coming decade; but here in the present...
----
Y'ler ensured that debt was always paid, and you were now stuck with her. Apparently that odd debt script was...for her...The relationship has gone well, and you will be accompanying her back to her fathers home territory. There may be eggs in the future. If Xerho showed you the way, the lady guided you to it. Life is good.
----
How was manufacturing molded
roll 3d20 to see what you impact.

>You donated your kholeskan overcoat and armor for examination and incorporation into the local flair.
>Your broken rifle was given as a basis to duplicate
>You explain how the stacking grenades mechanism works.

Rolled 2, 20, 8 = 30 (3d20)

>>4167517
We somehow purchased her dept? Weird but ok.
Tell me my fortunes dice.

>You donated your kholeskan overcoat and armor for examination and incorporation into the local flair.
>Your broken rifle was given as a basis to duplicate
>You explain how the stacking grenades mechanism works.
Is this a choose one kind of deal, or all three are occurring?

Rolled 16, 20, 17 = 53 (3d20)

>>4167517

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23 KB PNG

>>4167809
>>4167793
>those rolls tho

>>4167793
>>4167809
>16,20x2,17

A modified Kholeskan design sensibility permeates the town, from fashion to industrial style. Things are made, but with better materials. Coats were a popular export and a common sight, while the many militaries of Sujardin would soon benefit from the proliferation of the stackable grenade puck concept. Most of all though, experts in machining would begin creating a platform of lightweight, stamped alloy for future rifles and standardized ammunition. It came to be known as "Xerho's stick" or "Lady's Reach" depending on who you asked, but it's internal design went on to influence even the Tripod's small arms. Not the weird third small arm, but their man portable weapons.
------

The Kholeskan was last seen departing the nameless village with a TG female. His trappings of the past had been replaced with new equipment, which was good enough. The massive amount of voltanite currency obtained was used to purchase the materials for a small cottage on the outskirts of the Unity.
>Gained: Voltanite made Kholeskan patter overcoat with integrated armor paneling
>Gained: A new service rifle of modern design.
>Gained:A back pack full of grenades.
------

>Y'ler had been stalking you for a bit, and the CG was just a stooge to set up a meeting. In fact your rolls successfully de-railed several plot points I had. well done.
------

It was an fun quest to run, and quite possibly an in universe commercial for Spicy Brafi, really, only Librarian will ever know.

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>>4168243
Also. The end. Thanks for playing. Sorry to this one a little short, but real world takes priority.

Stay tuned for Nomad Grabraf quest; high adventures in eating garbage and getting killed.

>>4168248
thanks for running!

>>4168248
Is there a part of the d4chan wiki lore I can read?

>>4168584
Here's some links:

https://1d4chan.org/wiki/Essari_Evolution_Game
https://1d4chan.org/wiki/Essari_Evolution_Game/Post-Sapience_Chronology

>>4169131
Cool. Know I kind of sort or know what's going on. Sort of. I guess I'll need to read through ALL of those archived threads.

So just to clarify. Was this thread in the middle things, or was it the latest installment of the quest?

>>4170289
It's just a side diversion while we wait for the main civ game to burst forth into being.

>>4170438
Whens that's? It's on /qst/ right?

>>4171391
Yeah, just waiting on Librarian to drop it hot. Annnny day now.

>>4171391
meet us in the discord https://discord.gg/JPgpW6y