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/qst/ - Mitsuba Archive


“Ahh so you wish to hear a story do you? I have stories aplenty but I feel that these simply will not do. A night such as this, company such as this? You deserve a tale that will linger in your ears and hearts for long after this old mans departure. I shall tell you a grand tale, the story of my master eh? The great and mighty warrior who swept aside the petty kings and warlords who played at rule before his coming. He whose armies shook the ground with their march and whose wrath scorched nations to dust and drifting ash. From one end of this great Continent to the other, there are none who do not pay homage, there are none who do not know whom they now serve. But it is true child, few know his beginnings, few know the story of he who would one day rule all that is and ever will be. So fetch this old man a drink to sooth his parched throat and I shall reward you with a story few living have heard and fewer still still possess tongues to tell it with....”
The old man watches through foggy eyes as the half elven child scurries excitedly away across the worn floorboards of the roadside inn. Thunder crashes outside, the patter of fat rain drops tapping against the roof and windows as the storm above vents it’s fury on the Vessalian countryside. Patrons and fellow travelers sit at stools against the low set bar or huddle in booths, nursing mugs of dark ale and cider as the smell of roasted meats and simmering stew drifts through the air, mingling with the scent of woodsmoke and wet hay. The child returns in a matter of moments, a mug of ale held carefully in both hands and presented to the old storyteller, a gnarled hand reaching out from within a voluminous yet tattered gray sleeve and taking the mug gratefully. The child grabs a crooked stool and pulls it closer, seating themselves upon it and looking up at the old man expectantly, pointed ears twitching slightly and catlike eyes wide.

Smiling around his sip of ale, the old storyteller clears his throat and begins to weave his tale, the threads of memory forming the grand tapestry of this tale.
“To tell you this tale, we must start at the very beginning, for all stories must start somewhere no? Well listen close and I shall tell you...”

>our tale begins...
>>
>>4860566
>In proud Albion. Long has the nation of Albion and her knights stood as stalwart defenders against the barbarian hordes of the Shattered Reach and the savage tribes of the Ashland’s.

>Right here, in noble Vessalia. Few know that our lord took his start here in fair Vessalia. Through the courage of the Martyr and the grace of the Lady, we were saved from the darkness.

>In the ancient kingdom of Thyros, nestled in the depths of the Old Forest. Few who venture into the forgotten places return alive but those that do speak of the wonders and terrors that dwell beneath that ocean of green.

>In the harsh and unforgiving wastes of the Shattered Reach, where creatures long forgotten still tread. Only the strong can survive in such a place, only those with a heart and will of iron.

>From beyond the sea, a land unknown to all but the Elders of the Elven councils. The land of myth and legend, where heroes tread.

>In the depths of the Ashlands. The black desert is as cruel and unforgiving as the men and beasts that call it home. It is a land of terrible beauty and savage fury.
>>
>>4860566
>From beyond the sea, a land unknown to all but the Elders of the Elven councils. The land of myth and legend, where heroes tread.
>>
>>4860567
>>From beyond the sea, a land unknown to all but the Elders of the Elven councils. The land of myth and legend, where heroes tread.
Bet this one dies in a week
>>
>>4860622
Let’s not be negative anons.
>>
>>4860612
>>4860622
>2 votes for Origins beyond the Sea. I’ll add in some details here for curious anons who may want to know. There are “Good” and “Evil” races available to choose from and this will effect the game heavily. The Lands Beyond the Sea are basically the Elven homeland which locks you into a Elven character but this doesn’t mean that you’re stuck playing NotLegolas. There are multiple factions to choose from and not all of them are “good guys”
>>
>>4860566
>>In the depths of the Ashlands. The black desert is as cruel and unforgiving as the men and beasts that call it home. It is a land of terrible beauty and savage fury.
>>
>>4860567
>>From beyond the sea, a land unknown to all but the Elders of the Elven councils. The land of myth and legend, where heroes tread.
>>
>>4860566
>>In the depths of the Ashlands. The black desert is as cruel and unforgiving as the men and beasts that call it home. It is a land of terrible beauty and savage fury.
>>
>>4860566
>>In the depths of the Ashlands. The black desert is as cruel and unforgiving as the men and beasts that call it home. It is a land of terrible beauty and savage fury.
>>
>>4860612
>>4860622
>>4860657
3 for Lands Beyond the Sea
>>4860667
>>4860648
>>4860670
3 for the Ashlands.
>>
>>4860566
>>In the depths of the Ashlands. The black desert is as cruel and unforgiving as the men and beasts that call it home. It is a land of terrible beauty and savage fury

Desert Ranger pls. Might be biased after playing Wasteland 3 though.
>>
>>4860679
So QM what's your plan here? Is this gonna be a fantasy adventure with a focus on world building or maybe a tactical military or politics qst?
>>
>>4860692
My plan is a gradual mixture of all 3 honestly. It will start with your character and a single “unit” of men that follow you. This is intended to snowball into actual holdings for you that will need to be managed and defended. You’ll be able to make deals, hire mercenaries and forge alliances with neighboring factions.
>>
>>4860701
Neeto
>>
>>4860567
>Right here, in noble Vessalia. Few know that our lord took his start here in fair Vessalia. Through the courage of the Martyr and the grace of the Lady, we were saved from the darkness.
>>
>>4860648
>>4860667
>>4860670
>>4860681
Spat forth from the depths of the Ashlands, a child of the Black Sand.

Writing!
>>
“Beneath the burning eye of the unforgiving sun, through the scorched and sun blasted ruin of the dead cities and fallen tombs of ancient and forgotten, our lord was born. Those who have never witnessed the harsh reality of the oceans of sand cannot grasp the joy his parents felt when he survived his third year and was deemed worthy of a name....”

Your people have long dwelt in the merciless expanse of the Ashlands. The air itself seems to *hate* with a ferocity like that of a Dunestalker, ripping at the throat and scouring out the eyes of the foolish who stare into the winds. The foolhardy have little chance of survival in the Ashlands, nor do the weak or the simple. Whether from thirst, burning heat or one of the many dangers of the desert, your death will come to you if you have not the wit to avoid it or the strength to overcome it. Between the rare fortified settlements clustered desperately around the rare oasis, the nomad tribes wander the sands following no master but their own chieftains and lords, warring, raiding and living as free as any man or beast could ever hope to be.

This is not the place for those who lack the will to reach out and grasp their own fate with both hands, to scrabble and gnash, fighting tooth and claw for every minute, hour and day of their lives. This is a land of desperation and a unstoppable will to survive.

Your people’s blood flows through your veins, your ancestors watching from beyond the veil, the legacy of countless generations resting on your shoulders. You will make your people proud or you will die and be forgotten, your bones bleached and left to crumble to yet more ash upon the wind.

>Who are your people?

>The tribes of Men. Proud and fierce, those men that dwell in the Ashlands remain unbowed despite the best efforts of the northern kings. Like the great scorpions, the sting of their wrath is terrible to witness.

>The Dusk Elves. Exiled long ago from the old elven empires, these nomadic and solitary clans have been burned by the sun until their skin and eyes reflect the sins of their forebears.

>The Broken Horde. The ancient orc kingdoms were shattered and thrown to the winds, disparate warbands fleeing for the edges of the known world. The memory of the Horde is long beyond count however...
>>
>>4860748
>>The tribes of Men. Proud and fierce, those men that dwell in the Ashlands remain unbowed despite the best efforts of the northern kings. Like the great scorpions, the sting of their wrath is terrible to witness.
>>
>>4860748
>>The tribes of Men. Proud and fierce, those men that dwell in the Ashlands remain unbowed despite the best efforts of the northern kings. Like the great scorpions, the sting of their wrath is terrible to witness.
>>
>>4860748
>>In the depths of the Ashlands. The black desert is as cruel and unforgiving as the men and beasts that call it home. It is a land of terrible beauty and savage fury
>>
>>4860748
>>The tribes of Men. Proud and fierce, those men that dwell in the Ashlands remain unbowed despite the best efforts of the northern kings. Like the great scorpions, the sting of their wrath is terrible to witness.
>>
>>4860748
>The Broken Horde. The ancient orc kingdoms were shattered and thrown to the winds, disparate warbands fleeing for the edges of the known world. The memory of the Horde is long beyond count however...

Humans always get picked out of an attempt to not seem too unique. Come on anons, let's have some fun!
>>
>>4860748
>>The tribes of Men. Proud and fierce, those men that dwell in the Ashlands remain unbowed despite the best efforts of the northern kings. Like the great scorpions, the sting of their wrath is terrible to witness.
>>
>>4860748
>The Dusk Elves. Exiled long ago from the old elven empires, these nomadic and solitary clans have been burned by the sun until their skin and eyes reflect the sins of their forebears.
>>
>>4860748 #
>The Dusk Elves. Exiled long ago from the old elven empires, these nomadic and solitary clans have been burned by the sun until their skin and eyes reflect the sins of their forebears.
>>
>>4860750
>>4860753
>>4860757
>>4860773

The tribes of Men, the scattered sons of the long fallen kingdoms

Writing!
>>
>>4860748
>>The Broken Horde. The ancient orc kingdoms were shattered and thrown to the winds, disparate warbands fleeing for the edges of the known world. The memory of the Horde is long beyond count however...
>>
>>4860813
“A son of the many tribes of men, he walked through the graves of those who had come before him. Great kings and conquerors, their tombs and monuments worn blank and smooth by the merciless scouring touch of the black sands. Time had rendered them faceless, yet not voiceless and they whispered to him, their destined son, their secrets carried on the scalding winds. As he grew, he listened, the whispers of the ancient lords guiding him step by step as he took the path to manhood, a path that would lead him to greatness undreamt of...”

The sun sits high in the sky, a pitiless eye that glares down at all who dare to crawl the earth beneath it. Across the endless expanse of the Ashlands, hundreds of tribes wander the twisting dunes and wind scoured rock outcroppings in search of food, of water, of riches or glory in battle. Vast nomadic caravans that stretch for miles, tent cities that spring up overnight around the rare oases, half buried settlements that hunker behind their mud brick walls and watch the lands beyond their walls with narrowed eyes. The Ashlands are full of danger, full of risks and crawling with foes despite its seeming emptiness.

>Where do you call home?

>I have lived behind these walls most of my life. They were all the kept my family safe in the past. Perhaps it is time to venture forth from these barricades

>I was born among the black sands and I learned to walk from dawn to dusk before I earned a name. My forebears have wandered the dunes since time immemorial
>>
>> No.4860837
>I was born among the black sands and I learned to walk from dawn to dusk before I earned a name. My forebears have wandered the dunes since time immemorial
>>
>>4860837
>I was born among the black sands and I learned to walk from dawn to dusk before I earned a name. My forebears have wandered the dunes since time immemorial

Ohh so are we like Afganistan? Is there a Mujahidin or a large number of mountain ranges or is it just desert?
>>
>>4860837
>I was born among the black sands and I learned to walk from dawn to dusk before I earned a name. My forebears have wandered the dunes since time immemorial

Guess we're playing a human again
>>
>>4860837
>I was born among the black sands and I learned to walk from dawn to dusk before I earned a name. My forebears have wandered the dunes since time immemorial
>>
>>4860843
I took a lot of inspiration for the Ashland tribes from examples like the Bedouin, ancient Egypt and the Mujahideen. It’s a very mountainous area with long stretches of sand dunes scattered with rare settlements and larger trade hubs around the few rivers and larger oases. There are places that are “hospitable” but they are heavily claimed and defended
>>
>>4860837
>>I was born among the black sands and I learned to walk from dawn to dusk before I earned a name. My forebears have wandered the dunes since time immemorial
>>
>>4860851
So are we still live? Just curious since I might need to go.
>>
>>4860837
>I was born among the black sands and I learned to walk from dawn to dusk before I earned a name. My forebears have wandered the dunes since time immemorial

Whoops forgot to vote
>>
>>4860837
>>I was born among the black sands and I learned to walk from dawn to dusk before I earned a name. My forebears have wandered the dunes since time immemorial
>>
>>4860842
>>4860843
>>4860844
>>4860845
>>4860855
>>4860897

“Born amongst the lonely reaches of the desert of Ash, his people wandered the forgotten places beneath the sightless gaze of long dead kings. His forefathers had won their lands through blood and steel, driving back interlopers and beasts alike with valor and their strength of arms. But he would not be content with the meagre holdings of his tribe, he would take the first steps to expand them, to conquer not only the barren reaches of the Ashlands but all of the known world itself...”

A burning wind coursed along the dunes, sending shimmering sheets of glassy black grit swirling through the air as the caravan plodded along. Mile after mile, day after day, they walked without stopping. Both men and beast had been bred for this for countless generations, their endurance and hardiness a thing of legend as the countless miles melted away beneath their feet. They were a hard people, the descendants of the ancient kings who had called this land home before it had burned away to so much ash drifting on the wind, before the rivers dried and entire cities starved and crumbled to nothing. Robes of sand spider silk flutter and twist in the scorching breeze as heavily laden Drazyk beasts snort and lumber along, their thick scaled hides and fatty humps rendering them nearly impervious the rigors of desert travel.

As the sun sinks down towards the horizon, the head of the caravan finally comes to a stop and over the hours the rest of the vast train coils around the blossoming tent city like a nesting snake. Stars spring up in a brilliant spray across the dusk sky as the sun dips lower and lower, it’s fury fading as the chill of the desert night creeps in. Small fires spring up like earthbound stars, dried Drazyk dung fueling the cook fires as wisps of thin grey smoke curl skyward. Within the tent city, a young man pokes at the coals of a fire with a long skewer, his skin burned dark by the merciless sun, twisting tattoos roiling along his forearms and hands, telling the story of his family name.

>Who are you?
>Name:
>Brief descriptor/backstory (optional)
>>
>>4860952
Name: Jalisat Mahdi (First name means "He who receives little and gives more)

Brief Description: Light tan, middle eastern skin. in his late teens early 20s, lean build.

Background: Honestly, you should write it yourself QM. Both because we don't really have enough world details to come up with something more specific, and because you'll be way, *way* less likely to drop if you write something you're actually interested in for the MC. One of the top red flags for a quest getting dropped is a completely player generated character.
>>
>>4860970
This is better than the half baked idea I had so I will support it.
>>
>>4860970
In terms of “backstory” I was kind of referring to siblings/hobbies/etc that would be worked into the setting.
>>
>>4861014
I know, and I'm still telling you that you should decide those factors and the MC's general background.
>>
>>4861022
Very fair point
>>
I’ve got to get some rest anons but I’ll be picking this back up in the morning. Please feel free to drop your suggestions and choices in the meantime and thanks for playing!
>>
>>4860952

>Name:
Slave name is Bazicha (Birth name is Adrian) Zadar.

>Brief descriptor/backstory (optional)

Young man in 20s, fair but tanned skin. Was abducted as a child during a raiding party in a distant village across the sea, before being sold a few times as a slave until he was bought by his current master as a bodyguard in his masters house guard retinue.
>>
>>4861092
This but the current master breaks his buck regularly, making the MC addicted to Massa's cock. Also he's a femboy with a big bussy.
>>
ngmi past first thread
>>
>>4860970
support

Maybe the qm can give options for the family he was born in ?

Something like :
- son of desert tribesmen
- son of minor nobles
- son of traders

and so on.
>>
>>4860952
>Who are you: The son of an exiled warrior.
>Name: Khalid Ibn Al Mokaddem
>Brief descriptor/backstory: You are the son of a famous warrior, exiled from the city due to politics. You grew up hearing of your father's exploits and learning his skills hoping to one day come close to the glory he had.
>Possible Assets: Possibly joining in your adventures is another youth from your tribe who was is your closest friend, growing up with you like a sibling.
>>
>>4860952
>Who are you:
The son of an exiled warrior.
>Name:
Khalid Ibn Al Mokaddem
>Brief descriptor/backstory:
You are the son of a famous warrior, exiled from the city due to politics. You grew up hearing of your father's exploits and learning his skills hoping to one day come close to the glory he had.
>Possible Assets:
Possibly joining in your adventures is another youth from your tribe who was is your closest friend, growing up with you like a sibling.
>>
>>4860952
>Who are you:
An abandoned mercenary
>Name:
Korwin
>Brief descriptor/backstory:
You don't remember when you arrived at the black desert. You don't remember when you became part of a mercenary troope but as long as you can remember you've been surrounded by violence. You first killed a man when most boys would have been becoming aware of the girls around them and you've been fighting for the troope ever since. Unfortunately, the group's luck finally ran out. After facing overwhelming odds most of the members were killed and the rest scattered. As far as you know, you alone escaped alive and after days of traveling you find yourself here.
>Possible Assets:
A set of heavy plate armor. Most would find it poor equipment in the desert, most of decry its weight as impractical however heavy armor has become second nature to you even in the worst weathers.
>>
>>4860952
>Who are you:
The son of an exiled warrior.
>Name:
Khalid Ibn Al Mokaddem
>Brief descriptor/backstory:
You are the son of a famous warrior, exiled from the city due to politics. You grew up hearing of your father's exploits, being filled with a sense of adventure as he regales you with tales of his exploits from saving nobility to fighting off bands of savage invaders. His stories taught you a decent sense of warfare however his greatest gift to you was the swordsmanship he learned during his entire life which made him legendary. You are about to set off on a journey to make a name for yourself just as he had.
>Possible Assets:
Possibly joining in your adventures is another youth from your tribe who is your closest friend, growing up with you like your own sibling.
>>
>>4860952
>Who are you:
The child of an Oasis
>Name:
Aalim al-Kashgari
>Brief descriptor/backstory:
You never knew a world outside of the Oasis. Your "mother" found you when you were just a child beneath the burning wreck of a caravan and raised you as her own. Most children did not have a mother who could turn into beasts or disappear into the sands itself, most children did not meet some of the deadliest predators and dangerous prey at the same time when they decided to drink, most children did not befriend these very same creatures. You are not most children. You are a child raised by wilderness itself, the trees your only friends and the beasts your only companions. After a while, your mother decided it would be best for you to be with your own people so she kicked you out for a few years but welcomed you to come visit... if you could find the Oasis.
>Possible Assets:
A young beast that is fiercely loyal to you. The child's parents left it to die as it was weak and sickly however you took it in and raised it to good health.
>>
>>4861261
Sure why not
>>
>>4861261
I prefer this one
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)

1
>>4860970
2
>>4861261

Rolling for tie breakage
>>
>>4861830
“So it was that Jalisat of the House of Mahdi took the first steps on the path to greatness. He knew not that he trode upon the path yet the weavers of the fates watched him with shrewd eyes, pulling at the strings of the world to guide him on his path...”

Small sparks swirl skyward as the cook fire crackles, hidden nuggets of moisture within the fuel snapping and hissing as the flames greedily feed and grow. The thin skewer in your hand pokes and prods at the coals, spreading them around as you add another scoop of fuel before standing and dusting off your robes. Adjusting the cloth sash around your waist, the hilt of a broad, curved dagger protruding from the twice wrapped garment, you take a moment to look about the tent city as it settles into its nightly rest. Singing and laughter filters through the cool night air, the aroma of cooking meats and steaming tea intermingling with the scents of smoke and the musky, sharp scents of the clans herd of beasts. Your breath steams in the rapidly cooling air and you are grateful for the warmth of the dozens of fires that slowly suffuse the surrounding area with their heat, the spiraling rings of the resting caravan protecting its interior from the cutting winds of the desert night.

Chatter and conversation reaches your ears as friends and family meet for the night, children laughing as they scamper about in play, the snarls and growls of a pair of jackals squabble over a scrap of food they’d pilfered from some unwary souls cook pot. Looking about, you lay eyes on the tent of your family, the cloth structure already standing proud, a bastion of comfort against the chill night air.

>It is a regal affair, fit for your entire family and even several of the more beloved slaves (Noble Son)

>It is a wide and low slung shelter, it’s center open to the air and a woven mat of palm fronds laid across the sands, blunted weapons leaning against tent poles (House of Warriors)

>It is a modest affair, it’s interior cluttered with the wares and the trapping of your families trade but it is home (Merchants Son)

>It is a meagre and simple tent, fit only for a single person. All the belongings you possess can be carried in a single pack. (Pariah/Orphaned Son)
>>
>>4861859
>>It is a wide and low slung shelter, it’s center open to the air and a woven mat of palm fronds laid across the sands, blunted weapons leaning against tent poles (House of Warriors)
>>
>>4861859
>>It is a wide and low slung shelter, it’s center open to the air and a woven mat of palm fronds laid across the sands, blunted weapons leaning against tent poles (House of Warriors)
>>
>>No.4861859 #
>It is a wide and low slung shelter, it’s center open to the air and a woven mat of palm fronds laid across the sands, blunted weapons leaning against tent poles (House of Warriors)
>>
>>4861859
>It is a wide and low slung shelter, it’s center open to the air and a woven mat of palm fronds laid across the sands, blunted weapons leaning against tent poles (House of Warriors)
>>
>>4861867
>>4861869
>>4861871
>>4861894

The house of Mahdi stood proud in the interior rings of the temporary city, a place of honor in recognition of its aging patriarch. Musal bin al Mahdi sat in the rear of the the shelter, a thick blanket wrapped about his thinning shoulders, his one good eye peering out from a nest of wrinkles and laugh lines as his son passes through the entrance to the tent. The knotted purple scar that twists across the empty socket of his left eye does little to effect his warm smile as he gestures to a pile of cushions near him. You bow your head respectfully and sit, one of your fathers servants bringing you a cup of tea at a clap of his hands. The three collared and branded servants were a recent addition to the household, the Shayk of your clan deeming them as a gift to this aging warrior who had served him well. He had privately told you that he had no desire for them but he’d rather take them into his household than have them cast into the desert like so much refuse.

Your mother and siblings putter about in their respective areas of the shelter, your mothers sharp voice admonishing the older male servant as he sets up her loom, the colorful tapestry taking form upon it the culmination of months of effort. Maryam Al Mahdi is a short and stern woman, her features still as sharp as a razor despite the coming threads of grey visible in her long black hair as she bustles about, golden bracelets and armbands flashing in the light as she does. Your younger brother Abasi stands at the center of the wide palm frond mat, a blunted spear spinning in his hands as he attempts to get the rather hesitant younger male servant to strike at him with a cloth wrapped wooden staff. You fight the urge to laugh at the servants obvious nervousness to strike the youth and you cannot resist a smile as he takes a stinging blow to the thigh for his hesitations, staggering him with a choked yelp. Your brother is only now coming into his full size as a late teen, soon he will be sent to undergo the trials just as you had. For now though his head remains shaven, his arms and neck unmarked by the tattoos that mark him as a man.Your younger sister Zuleika tends a small fire below a Dallah full of steaming and fragrant tea. She is a slight and soft spoken young girl, her braided hair falling down to the middle of her back, heavy with beads and gilded rings, your father had never been lax on showering his wife and daughter with gifts he had taken in his many battles while the gifts he had bestowed upon yourself and Abasi.

>Continued
>>
>>4861986
Your father clears his throat as he angles his head towards you, his voice a hoarse growl from decades of screaming orders at the men that followed him. His graying beard twitches as he smiles at you, several broken and missing teeth visible through the small grin.
“My son. I trust that you are not suffering in this nights chill? My joints and bones complain to me and they do not obey me when I order them silent.”
You both share a small chuckle and he takes a long draft from the cup of steaming tea held between both hands, a slight tremor rattling the spoon within it against the mug. He sighs and sets it aside, cross his arms across his lap.
“The Shaykhs third wife is late with her child and suffering greatly and so he has commanded that we wait and rest here until it has been born or she is well enough to travel once more. If history is any example, we will be here for at least a week. Have you any thought as to how you will occupy yourself my son?”

>i have not been on a hunt for a long while, there were signs of game several days ago. Perhaps I could take Abasi on a hunt?

>We are rather near a route used by the trade convoys of the river kingdoms. I’m sure I could find some men willing to join me, with your blessing of course.

>I thought I might spend more time here, you’ve always told me I should take more time to become more familiar with the clan as a whole if I hope to advance myself and our family.

>I have been feeling rather cooped up, they say there are ruins near here from the Old Kingdoms. If I am careful I could return with many treasures for our house.
>>
>>4861989
>>We are rather near a route used by the trade convoys of the river kingdoms. I’m sure I could find some men willing to join me, with your blessing of course.
>>
>>4861989
>>I have been feeling rather cooped up, they say there are ruins near here from the Old Kingdoms. If I am careful I could return with many treasures for our house.
>>
>Sorry about the delay, had to run to pick up my sisters kid for her. Anybody else want to throw their vote in the ring before I call it?
>>
>>4862131
+1
>>
>>4861989 #
>>I have been feeling rather cooped up, they say there are ruins near here from the Old Kingdoms. If I am careful I could return with many treasures for our house.
>>
>>4862131
>>4862235
>>4862260

“I have been feeling rather cooped up father. I long to stretch my legs and see what wonders I can uncover. I have heard rumors that there are ruins of the Old Kingdoms near here. If I could venture into them I may return with treasures for our house.”
You dip your head as you finish speaking to your father, the aging warrior nodding slowly at your words. Zuleika cocks her head in your direction, listening discretely as she stirs a scoop of dried tea leaves into the steaming water within the dallah. Abasi is not nearly so covert with his attempts to eavesdrop and yelps in surprised pain as the rag coated staff whistles past his guard and catches him behind the knee, sending him toppling to the ground.

Your father steeples his fingers before his face and stares over them into the distance, his single eye reflecting the crackling flames. After several long moments he speaks.
“I know well the dangers of the resting places of the Kings and Phaerons of old. Spirits walk those halls and the dead do not rest easily my child. But you speak the truth, those very same dangers do keep guarded treasures that can bring great riches and glory upon those who can seize them. I do not wish to dissuade you from your choice as you are a man grown and free to walk your own path. Do you plan to go alone my son?”

>Yes, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. It will be dangerous but just think of the glory such a tale could bring

>I was thinking of taking a few of my close friends... and maybe Abasi with your permission? He could use the excitement

>I was considering gathering a group of like minded men and setting out in force. The personal glory will be lessened but we may return with more spoils for the Clan

>actually I’ve changed my mind (choose different option)
>>
>>4862315
>>I was thinking of taking a few of my close friends... and maybe Abasi with your permission? He could use the excitement
>>
>>4862315
>>I was thinking of taking a few of my close friends... and maybe Abasi with your permission? He could use the excitement
>>
I’ll give this the night and roll with whatever choices are there in the morning. Thanks for playing anons and sorry for the short update period
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>tfw too late to suggest that we should've been Viking Warriors/Explorers
Oh well, being Bedouin tribesmen will probably be cool too.

>>4862315
>I was thinking of taking a few of my close friends...
How to get your kid brother killed 101: Take him to a haunted ruin filled with ghosts of long dead kings that probably won't like you for tresspassing and trying to steal their shit. His time to distinguish himself will come.
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>>4862317
>>4862410

“It would be foolish to alone father. I was thinking of taking a few of my close friends, it would be good for us all to earn some recognition with the Shaykh.”
You take a long sip of the tea, the strong brew pungent against your tongue and take a moment of thought, your father looking at you expectantly.
“I also thought that it may be good for Abasi to come with me. He is young and a bit of excitement would serve him well.”
You set your tea aside and look at your father as he purses his lips and tucks his chin against his chest. Finally, he speaks.

“Your brother is young that is true, he is foolish and overconfident, headstrong and too sure of himself. Much like you were as a youth and yes, much like I was when I was his age. I am loathe to send both my sons out into the sands at the same time without dire cause but you do speak truly. If Abasi wishes, he may go with you.”
Tapping his fingers against his thigh, Musal seems to drift through thought and memory for several long moments as your mother pokes her head between the veil of hanging beads that separates her weaving room from the main tent. Your mother is a stern woman, her eyes and voice hard as the glass left over after a lightning storm and she jabs a finger at your chest.
“You are both foolhardy to run away into the desert to plunder the tombs of some ancient king like common bandits. You will be swallowed by the sands and leave me and your father with no sons to care for us? Bah!”
She flutters her hand at you and scoffs, turning to return to her loom
“Keep your brother safe Jalisat, I know you will be safe but... he has yet to learn what can lurk beyond our tent lines.”

Of course mother! I will guard him with my life, just as I have whenever I have taken him with me”
You bow your head once more and your mother offers a rare smile of approval as the beads patter against one another. You imagine that her smile would be less approving if she had known how many times you had taken Abasi with you on hunts or to watch after the mounts while you and your friends delved into ruins.

>Spend the evening talking with your family (who?)

>Duck out of the tent and go find one of your friends.

>Get some rest, you’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow

>other
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>>4863882
>Duck out of the tent and go find one of your friends.
We can give a heads up to our lads that we're going ruin diving tomorrow, it's only curteous to give them time to prepare before we end up finding a legendary artifact which will propel us and them to the forefront of history, no biggie.
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>>4863882
>Duck out of the tent and go find one of your friends.
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>>4863882
>>Duck out of the tent and go find one of your friends.
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>>4860622
>>4860636
I was too generous. The serial faggot didn't even last three days this time.
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Told y'all. Every single time the character is player generated it happens- tried to have him write anything himself. Of course he got bored and fucked off
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>>4868497
Player generated characters can work fine if the QM is good (see Reptilian Infiltrator). But this guy basically tries to run variations of the same crap (sometimes with the same OP image) every few months only to flake in days. That's how I knew it was DOA from the first post.
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>>4868511
Takes a special kind of QM. Unlike a tabletop where the players handle the characters they make, a QM has to write everything and players more or less just react and make decisions, so unless they're a QM that enjoys what players bring to the table and/or the act of running, they probably will flake on a player generated character.