Alright everybody, I assume most of you have seen my tweet regarding Obnoxious Ghost Quest. And first and foremost, I’d like to apologize to you all. I had an obligation as QM to see this through to the bitter, bitter end, but I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with two quests and my current course load. As you all probably know by now, or have guessed, Obnoxious Ghost Quest is my first quest ever. In that regard it has a special place for me. Bones especially. It was exciting building a character of a based ghost-skeleton-Frankenstein’s monster with you guys, and I want to thank you for being here with me for that.

If I was able to continue the quest, I would do so in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, last thread showed my something that I didn’t want to believe. I simply lack the creative prowess, mental fortitude, and experience as a QM to run two quests with their own storylines, characters, and settings. I was writing slowly, generally just trying to fill things in and push the story forward. It was not quality work. I am not going to make my players sit down and endure uninspired writing on my part out of a sense of loyalty to the Quest. I don’t want my players’ last memories of OGQ to be “Oh yeah, it was okay, but man did it get dull towards the end.” I intended to deliver quality work to you guys, funny and exciting stuff loaded with limericks. I was not providing.

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>>29876203
Therefore, I’m putting OGQ on hold until further notice. I’ve already got like 60,000 words written in a google doc, which is the culmination of a not insignificant time investment on all our parts. The fact that OGQ is getting hiatus’d is entirely on my head, rather than the fault of you, my players, or anything else. I have a lot to improve on as a QM and unfortunately it can’t all be fixed by a training montage where I climb the Himalayas to study under Grand-QuestMaster Twen. It’s been fun, exciting, and sometimes even a little scary conducting Mr. Bones’ Wild Ride for you guys (Although to be honest, sometimes it felt like I was on the ride instead), and I hope to continue doing so someday in the future.

The next two weeks pass without incident. However, smaller caravans start arriving at the Lindwurm, and more frequently. Merchants too small to belong to the Guild and too astute to allow the chance for profit to pass them by. Although Waldheim is clearly benefitting from the increased presence of merchants and traders you can’t help but resent the fact that they’ve driven both you and Voytek into hiding.

Its been two consecutive days in the Professor’s tent. Katrina left not only an hour ago to harvest more of the Lindwurm, but you’re still painfully bored. Just then, the tent flap opens, and Dagfinn stoops into the tent. “Bones,” he says without greeting, “We have a problem.”

>Oh thanks be to the gods. I’m tired of sitting around with my thumb up my ass Dagfinn.

Dagfinn snorts as he takes a seat on the floor of the tent across from you. “Yea, ya don’t strike me as the introspective type, Bones.”

>Fuckity right I’m not. Have the merchants finally pissed off so I can go outside, or what?

“Well,” says Dagfinn, rubbing a bearded chin with his hand, “the merchants’re starting to vanish. And that’s the problem.”

>How come?

“Onfroi, the merchant who arranged all of these caravans, arrived a day ago. Some of the caravans aren’t making it back through the forest.”

>Could it be, you know, all the fuckhuge monsters that happen to live here? Just a guess.

Dagfinn shakes his head, frowning. “I considered it too, but accordin’ to Onfroi there ain’t any wreckage or nothing that a fae beast attack would leave behind. Caravans‘re just disappearing.”

>And I figure you’ve got some smart ass plan that involves me, don’t it?

“Yea. You, Asta, Katrina, and Ivan are gonna go with Onfroi back to Marché, and see if ya can’t lure out whatever is making them caravans disappear. Sound reasonable? Ya do it, and I’d be willing to craft a little something for ya.”

>>29876254
>I honestly think I’d take you up on that even if you weren’t promising a new toy. But now that you have… what can I get?

Dagfinn shrugs. “Eh. Really anything that isn’t a bleeding house or some other nonsense. I noticed ya stockpiling Lindwurm scales. I can see what I can do with that.”

>Alright alright. I’ll come back with an idea or five after I’m done with this.

“Good. Guess the only problem I’ve got is you to hide the fact ya ain’t got no bleeding face…”

Had you a face you would’ve grinned at Dagfinn’s dilemma. Then again, had you a face, Dagfinn wouldn’t have this problem right now.

>I’ve got your answer right here,
you reply, holding up the burlap sack you were so lovingly working on.

Dagfinn stares at it for a few seconds before shrugging again. “Seems fine enough.”

The old man waits for you to put the sack on before leading you out of the tent, where a fat man with a tiny goatee stands, obviously waiting for you. He starts slightly at your appearance, nearly seven feet of armored man with a burlap bag on his head. You can’t blame the merchant. Onfroi recovers quickly however, a forced smile on his lip as he extends a hand in greeting. “So… you are the Bones fellow who slew a Lindwurm, I am thinking. My name is Onfroi, a humble merchant… although not for too long, I hope!”

>>29876274
You take his forearm and shake it roughly, as the traditional Zimastranniya handshake dictates you must. The merchant falls back slightly as you release his arm.

>Yeah, that’s me.

Onfroi coughs before continuing. “Well that is good. If it would not be a bother you may follow me. We are almost ready to go.”

You follow the fat merchant to a caravan, watching in amusement as he waddles ahead of you. Guy’s pretty spooked. He leads you around a few tents until you reach a clearing in the impromptu settlement. You presume its the loading area. It’s surprisingly empty, Onfroi’s wagon the only source of activity in the area. Walking forward, you see Ivan, Katrina, and Asta all standing away from each other. All three of them notice you. Asta waves vigorously, while Katrina manages a tiny salute. Ivan on the other hand, merely crosses his arms and scowls at a bush in the distance.

>>29876291
You nod back at Katrina and Asta, then realize they probably can’t see that through the sack on your head. You give the pair of them a friendly wave in greeting before beelining towards Ivan. It’s time to live life as you were summoned to. Obnoxiously. Ivan looks up at you as you approach. He opens his mouth to say something, but before any words can come out, you swing out with one hand and grace the peasentmancer with a light slap. Ivan raises his hand to his cheek in shock, the normally white skin pink at the point of impact. The delightful shade spreads across his face as his mouth slips into an adorable “O” of surprise. The necromancer in training looks up at you through his long lashes, wavy brown hair obscuring one of his big hazel eyes. Excitement flares through you as you cup Ivan’s hand, the tips of your fingers just grazing his delicate cheekbones. “S-sempai…” Ivan mumbles.

>So Ivanette, ya still pissy about being replaced as the protagonist in thread one?

The magic of youthful spring nights broken, Ivan steps back, flush deepening to a red of anger. “What the fuck are you even talking about, you godsdamned psychopath?”

You merely shrug as the peasantmancer stalks away from you and takes a seat on one of Onfroi’s wagons. You turn to see Asta approaching you, a confused, but nevertheless happy expression on her face. “Long time no see Bones. Bet you’re pleased to be running loose again.”

>>29876313
>Damn good to be out, Asta. I’ve been dying to try out my new breakdancing routine.

“What’s breakdancing?” asks Asta, confusion deepening. You decide that can wait for a later date, instead getting back to the topic at hand.

>Never you mind. There anything you want to talk about?

“Yeah… yeah. I wanted to talk shop with you. Mostly, what do you think is taking out these caravans? Dagfinn says that it isn’t fae beasts, but I’m not so sure.”

>The fuck sorta beast could swallow a caravan whole? Unless there’s more Lindwurms?

Asta shakes her head, thumbing one of her woodaxes idly. “Onfroi might be a bit foolish, but even he wouldn’t be able to mistake a Lindwurm attack for something else. They’re not exactly subtle.”

>True dat.

“I think that there might be a drake flock somewhere nearby. They like to fly away with their prey, that would explain the lack of wreckage in the area. But we’ll see what tracks I can find once we’re on the caravan route. There is no doubt in my mind that Onfroi missed something important”

As if summoned by Asta saying his name, Onfroi appears beside you, surprisingly silent of one so large. “Hello milday,” Onfroi says, bowing deeply. “We are almost ready to depart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” answers Asta, looking away. “Let’s get a move on.”

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on hold? I....have the sads. But I understand RL obligations, and to your other quest. I only ask that you don't forget us

>>29876347
>on hold? I....have the sads. But I understand RL obligations, and to your other quest. I only ask that you don't forget us
Hey, deniable asset is pretty nice. Try it!

>>29876337
The three wagons in Onfroi’s caravan creak loudly as they depart from the Lindwurm’s carcass, loaded down with spoils from the corpse. You follow up behind the one in the rear, looking around the forest suspiciously. You can’t help but note the extreme discomfiture of the driver you’re walking behind, who keeps on glancing back at you from over his shoulder. shrugging to yourself, you keep on walking.

And walking.

And walking.

After several hours of mindless trudging you feel ready to explode. You wanted a godsdamned bandit ambush or monster attack, not the scenic route through some shitty forest! Muttering angrily to yourself, you fail to notice that the cart in front of you has stopped. You walk into the wooden rear and fall back onto your ass. In the distance you can hear Ivan crow, “Niiiice!”

Brushing yourself off, you consider a rejoinder.

>I knew a student named Ivan
>And every day, he’d be skivin’
>Skipping class
>To take dick in the ass
>Yo dawg, I ain’t even jivin’

The caravaneers around you chortle with surprised laughter, the tall man with a sack on his head can apparently crack wise. Ivan on the other hand, merely crosses his arms and scowls. As the caravans unpack to camp for the night, Asta flags you down.

“C’mon Bones,” she says, “Me and Katrina have got a fire started. Girl is a halfway decent cook too, not like you’d care. Siddown with us.”

>Muh, not like I have anything better to do, sure.

As the huntress leads you back to her campfire, situated slightly away from the rest of the caravan, you notice Ivan struggling to light some over fresh wood.

>Do you:
>Invite Ivan to join the three of you?
>Let him struggle in the cold?
>Regardless of which one you choose, specify a topic of conversation with your camp buddies

>>29876488
>>Invite Ivan to join the three of you?
We may be an ass, we don't let our friends alone in the cold.

Lets talk about privilege and wizardry.

>>29876488
>Invite Ivan to join the three of you?

>>29876488
>Invite Ivan to join the three of you?

Contemplate if one can wear a fedora and not look like an ass.

Alright, writing

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>Hey Ivanka. It’s sad watching you try and light green twigs man. C’mon, Asta actually knows how to properly light a campfire.

Ivan ignores you for a few seconds, but after several additional strikes from his flint fail to result in even the tiniest ember, he sighs and stands up, brushing some dirt off of his pants. The three of you walk over to Asta’s fire, where Katrina is turning a haunch of dripping red Lindwurm flesh over the flame, bits of fat dripping off of it. Godsdamn, does it smell good. For a moment, you wish you were able to actually eat, then you consider the moral quandary of eating Lindwurm. Does that count as cannibalism for you now?

Taking a seat by the fire you remove the symbol of office from your pack, and flip the strange het around in your hands. You’d like to remove your sack to see how it looks, but considering that you’re supposed to keep the fact you're an undead abomination on the down low, you decide it would be wiser not to. As you fiddle about with the hat, an idea occurs to you.

>Hey Ivan. Try this on for me. I want to see how it looks.

Ivan looks at the hat you are now brandishing at him, taking it gingerly from your gauntleted hands. He too fiddles around with it, before deciding the wider, more pointed, brim should go to the front. As Ivan places the Symbol of Office on his head, a sudden change takes place. Scruff, grown in from days of not shaving, vanishes from his cheeks. The hairs on his neck grow long and somewhat curly, forming some strange sort of semi-beard. The three of you look on in shock as black trench coat materializes on Ivan shoulders.

“I-Ivnyan?” Asks Katrina, eyes wide.

You don’t even see him move. Suddenly Ivan is across the campfire, kneeling before Katrina, her hand in his. He kisses it several times.

“Yes, milady?”

>This is interesting. What should Bones do?
>Retrieve the Symbol of Office
>Watch how things play out

>>29877230
>Retrieve the Symbol of Office
Well that was...interesting

>>29877230
>Retrieve the Symbol of Office

What the hell does Ivanette think she's doing making moves on our waifu!

>>29877230
>>Retrieve the Symbol of Office

Alright, writing

As morbidly curious as you are, it probably isn’t a good idea to leave something like that on Ivan’s head. Kid’s already enough trouble as is. You stand up as silently as possible, although Ivan doesn’t seem to notice you, instead focused on making his way up Katrina’s arm. Reaching out, your fingers come within inches of snatching the Symbol of Office off of Ivan’s head when suddenly, the peasantmancer is gone. You look around, wondering where he could have gone off to. You hear the creaking of branches above you. You jerk your head up, just in time to see Ivan’s knees collide with your face.

You collapse to the ground, shocked more than anything else. You slowly rise to your feet, rubbing your skull to see if anything is broken. Looking across the campfire, you can see Ivan hopping backwards and forwards fists raised.

>Godsdamn Ivan. When did you get so strong?

There is a moment’s pause. Then Ivan flings back his head, roaring with laughter. “G-G-Godsdamn,” he chokes out, still laughing. “I can hardly believe you hold on to such antiquated beliefs, Bones. Here. Allow me to enlighten you.”

Before you can even respond, Ivan’s fist flies into your stomach. “Euphoric Punch!”

You fly backwards, into the woods, bouncing off of low hanging branches before slamming into a tree.

>Ooooowwwwwww

As you shakily rise to your feet, you see Ivan approaching, a not entirely sane expression on his face.

>Shit Bones, better do something!
>Specify an action and roll a d20

Rolled 10

>>29877736
Breakdance Combat!

Rolled 3

>>29877736
>>Specify an action and roll a d20
Tell him that evolution isn't real and that proprietary software is superior while charging

Rolled 8

>>29877736
Time to have him rejoin our side of reality.

Punch him in the dick.

Rolled 9

>>29877736
Ask if he prefers combat using the 3.5 ruleset

Rolled 1

>>29877736
>Specify an action and roll a d20
Seconding break-dance attack

Rolled 17

>>29877736
Challenge him to a limerick off

Rolled 8

>>29877776
>>29877778
>>29877802

I'm going to second these three

Welp, those are some rolls...

Writing.

>>29877833
>>29877776

So OGQ is going on hiatus after we get rekilled by a possessed Ivan?

That seems fitting somehow.

Shit! Gotta get him distracted, make him sloppy! But you’ve never even seen anyone act like this before. Normally you’d just distract Ivan with a quick limerick about rectal ravaging, but this seems like a completely different person. Several spirits in your gestalt throw out suggestions.

>Uh uh uh… hey Ivan! Do you prefer combat under the 3.5 ruleset?

“Obviously! 4e is simplified bullshit for casuals who can’t handle any sort of strategic thinking in character design!”

Holy hells, you were just sticking words together. How the fuck did Ivan know what you were talking about? Either way, he just has some smug-ass expression on his face. Time to try a new approach.

>Evolution don’t real!

Now THAT pissed him off. Ivan closes the distance between the pair of you, teeth bared in a horrible grimace. You attempt to dodge the gut punch. You don’t succeed.

The trunk behind you cracks from the impact of your body slamming into it. That can’tve been healthy. As you sag down from the crater in the tree, you look up to see Ivan winding up for another hit.

>Heh. Proprietary software is clearly superior.

The ringing of Ivan’s fist striking your skull almost drowns out his battle cry. “INSTALL GENTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Once more, you can see the astral rift forming. Your connection with the skeleton wanes.

>hoooo shit.

The spirits in your gestalt cling to the skeleton’s skull, desperate to avoid being sucked off into the vortex. You can feel it tearing at your collective. It hurts. It hurts so much.

Suddenly, you’re back inside the skeleton once more. Ivan is lifting you up.

>Proprietary software encourages innovation by securing that content creators are rightly rewarded....

Ivan slams you against the tree.

And then you’re back to clinging to your one connection to the physical world. This time, your grip is far more tenuous. You gaze back at the rift in pure undiluted terror. You don’t know what lies on the other side, but some deep intrinsic part of each soul screams their rejection of it. That’s when you see it. Ivan, silvery and sans trenchcoat, clinging to his body. He look at you and screams.

You’re back inside the skeleton. Ivan is holding you by the collar.

“-am a gentleman and a scholar. So I shall allow you one final request.”

>Quick Bones!!! You need to take action now!
>Specify an action and roll a d20

Rolled 9

>>29878342
Headbutt? Why not.

Rolled 2

>>29878342
>>Specify an action and roll a d20
Tell him that the hat isn't vegan so he takes it off.

Rolled 4

>>29878342
>>Specify an action and roll a d20
Remove your hat and bow down before killing me off.

Its impolite to kill people with an hat on.

Rolled 19

>>29878342
Rip. Off. The. Beard.

Rolled 17

>>29878413

Seconding this just because I want to see you write it.

>>29878433
Seconding

Rolled 13

>>29878342
Ask if he can join you in a Limerick Duet, then still the hat as the climax

Rolled 5

>>29878342
DANCE OFF!
Katrina decides the victor.

>>29878464
Thirding

Alright, going to go with the two highest rolled options. Writing

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>I… I request your ear for a moment, in the name of Sagen... there is something you must know...

Ivan looks up at you. “Speak quickly, or else suffer my wrath for using the Great Euphoric One’s name in vain.”

>Th-that hat… isn’t Vegan.

Ivan’s eyes go wide, irises twitching around in the center of a sea of white. “No…” he breathes, as he drops you to the ground. You barely manage to keep your footing.

“Wait hang on. What part of this hat is made from ani-”

Ivan doesn’t finish his half asked question, as your hand darts out, seizing the curly hairs on his neck.

Ugh. Feels like fucking pubes.

You twist the clump in your hand and PULL.

Desperation lends you inhuman strength.

The wurm muscles may have also played a part in that.

Your hand comes back with something that kind of looks like a loofah turned murder weapon.

Ivan unleashes a hellish scream, head tilted back, mouth open wider than you ever thought possible.

The Symbol of Office falls from his head and lands on the forest floor.

As you collapse to the ground, you’re pleased to notice that the trench coat has vanished.

Darkness overtakes you.

You awake to the jostling motion of a cart. You jerk upright and look around. You are in a covered wagon. Ivan is sitting next to you, bandages tied to his lower jaw and neck.

“Hey.”

>Sup.

“Not much.”

>What happened?

“Well I got possessed by that idiotic hat of yours, we both almost got sucked into some sort of soul limbo, and I nearly killed you,” he finishes awkwardly.

>Sounds like a normal Tuesday.

“Yeah.”

>Anything exciting happen while I was out?

“I managed to refresh the binding sigil on your forehead, but there was some… cosmetic damage… to your skull. Asta did her best to fix it, but...”

>What sort?

Ivan says nothing and hands you a mirror. There are several hairline fractures present on your skull, along with one massive crack running back from your temple. It has been riveted shut with iron bands and pegs.

>Anything to say, Bones?

>>29879100
Well he didn't draw dicks on our skull, so that's good at least

Rolled 3

>>29879100
Cool, chicks digs cracked guys.

>>29879100
>Metal as fuck.

Writing

>That’s metal as fuck.

“You’re taking this rather well…”

>Ivan. Chicks dig cracked guys. Once I’m back in the game, it’s gonna be magical.

“I suppose so? I’m not really up to date on dating strategies for the undead. Got a lot for “beta males” for some odd reason though.”

There is a long silence while you poke at the metal clamping your head together. After a few minutes of flicking rivets, Ivan speaks up. “Bones I… I uh… I… I’m sorry about what happened.”

>What happened? What happened when?

“When I left you at the beach. I just sorta figured you were fucking around again, like that time you left the innards of a town guard hanging above my head while I slept. Didn’t realize how serious. How serious almost losing your body is.”

>Oh yeah, that.

Ivan nods, looking somber.

>Hey man, that was like three weeks ago or some shit. I think you’re the only one who’s still thinking about it at this point.

A pause, then Ivan’s face breaks into a hopeful smile. Before he can say anything however, you hear shouting from outside the broadcloth walls of the covered wagon. Yanking your burlap sack into place, you and Ivan tear the fabric door of the wagon open, to reveal an ambush in it’s early stages. Caravaneers are shouting as black arrows shoot through the air. Bushes on either side of the caravan rustle. A wagon, loaded with bones, scales, and other bits of Lindwurm lies directly ahead of you, the driver bleeding out onto his cargo. You reach down, and are disappointed by the lack of sword at your side.

>What do?
>Find Sword?
>Scrounge up a weapon?
>>Regardless, describe some badass attacks and roll d20, because that’s a lot of fun

Rolled 13

>>29879761
>>Scrounge up a weapon?
If needs be, use a chair as a weapon and charge at whatever is chucking arrows at you

Rolled 13

>>29879761
>A wagon, loaded with bones, scales, and other bits
If they can get them in a wagon, we can probably wield a splinter or two. So lunge for a bone piece that we can use either as a club or a sword and run in the direction those attacks are coming for.

First glory is ours.

Rolled 9

>>29879761
>Find Sword?

Rolled 6

>>29879761
>Scrounge up a weapon?
Throw scales like ninja stars into thier necks

Rolled 13

>>29879761
Bone club with scale shield.
Deflect arrows and advance upon the enemy.

We gonna go clubbing then. Writing

>>29880008
>>29880040
Somehow these both seem equally reasonable to me.

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Scrambling forward, you run towards the wagon ahead of you. This is less to avoid the arrows and more so that you can get around to cracking heads as quickly as possible. Rummaging through the wagon you eventually come back up with a large bone splinter, perfect for causing concussions. You toss Ivan a smallish scale, about the size of a shield. The peasantmancer has more to fear from arrows than you do. You turn back around just in time for the first of your ambushers to come bursting out of the forest.

Dayum, they ain’t pretty.

Tall, gangly bodies with long limbs and crescent faces, the Bolotianyk, more commonly known as Nyks or Goblins, aren’t a pleasant to look at. They are even less pleasant to interact with. Assuming that you can get them to stop enslaving/murdering you for long enough to have a civilized conversation, one would find that they are on the whole intelligent, erudite, cunning, arrogant, and psychotically xenophobic.

However, you aren’t here to speak with them. You’re here to bash their godsdamned skulls in.

Roaring with laughter, you bring the heavy splinter of bone to bear, crushing the unprotected skull of the nearest Nyk. Unfortunately, your assault leaves you open to a counter attack from its fellows, and a rain of blows falls onto your back, knocking you down. Snarling from underneath the deluge of strikes, you lash out with your bone club. Most of the Nyksump out of the way. One does not, it’s knees shattering as the heavy splinter collides with its legs.

You push yourself to your feet, ominous laughter emanating from within your burlap sack. The Nyks fall back slightly, forming a ring around you. Out of the corner of your eye socket, you can see Ivan deliver a flaming uppercut to one of the raiders.

>What will Bones do?
>Describe attacking action and Roll a d20
>Bonus points for anti-goblin epithets while we’re at it!

Rolled 18

>>29880543
Can't limerick for shit, but I can suggest going about like a goddamn tornado. Start spinning and goblins should start dying on their own.

Rolled 5

>>29880543
Play whack a goblin as they try to attack, win.

There once was a goblin horde
Who attacked me when I lost my sword
So I gave them a whack
They lost their attack
At least then I was no longer bored.

Rolled 16

>>29880543
OPPRESS THE FUCKS! VIOLENTLY!

YOU FUCKS SHOULD GO BACK TO THE CESSPIT YOUR KIND COME FROM AND STOP HARASSING HONEST(ISH) PEOPLE THAT ARE ACTUALLY CONTRIBUTING TO SOCIETY!
NOW GET A JOB!!!!!!!!!!
All while clubbing the little bastards faces in.

Rolled 10

>>29880543
>>Describe attacking action and Roll a d20
Let meet with Ivan and protect his rear (if you know what I mean) from the god damned green skins.

Rolled 3

>>29880708
Seconding for oppression

Rolled 1

>>29880543
You goddamned crescent faced fucks! Too fucking lazy to find REAL work so you go off and steal the hard earned labor from good, hardworking, gods fearing races, like humans!

Potential slurs:
>Gobbaboo
>Hook chin
>Greenie
>Lankers

Alright, got some limericks, some slurs, and some oppression out of this one. Writing

>>29880543
>Why hello there little goblin
>I see you're attempting a robin'
>But your group I will mock
>As this bone comes hitting your cock
>You'll be lucky if you can leave hobblin'

You look around at the surrounding Nyks. You raise your club menacingly before shouting

>YOU FUCKS SHOULD GO BACK TO THE CESSPIT YOUR KIND COME FROM AND STOP HARASSING GOOD, HONEST, GODS FEARING RACES LIKE THESE HERE HUMANS!!!

The Nyks look slightly taken aback at your vehement opposition to their existence. You honestly don’t care all that much about them, you mostly just want a chance to unwind and cream a bit. You decide to do that with your +5 club of oppression.

>Stinkin’ Gobbaboos!

A Nyk’s head shatters under the force of your blow.

>Goddamned Lankers!

Another horrible crunching sound. This time form a Nyk’s sternum as you crack it in half.

>Complain about Paladin Brutality NOW!

As you continue to swing your club, allowing blows to bounce off of your chitin armor, you feel a limerick raising up within you.

>Why hello there little goblin
>I see you're attempting a robin'
>But your group I will mock
>As this bone comes hitting your cock
>You'll be lucky if you can leave hobblin'

You take care to punctuate the last verse in your battle limerick with the cracking of a Nyk’s femur. You feel like that is the most appropriate thing to do. You rotate in place, observing the scope of your slaughter. At least seven or eight goblins are lying before you, dead or horrendously crippled. An arrow whizzes by you, passing inches away from your shoulder. You turn around to see a Goblin collapse to the ground, choking on the bolt in it’s throat. You look back just in time to see Asta give you a friendly wave.

Before you have a chance to respond in kind, a bolt of light shoots out from the underbrush. You roll clear and pop back up to your feet, club in hand. Out of the forest comes a man, a human man, wearing the robes of a clergy member and bearing in his right hand a symbol you do not recognize.

“So,” he says, eyes facing down. “You’re the one my detect privilege spell pointed me towards. Do have any idea what sort of harmful racial paradigms you’re enforcing on these poor oppressed Bolotianyk? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

You decide this question is best answered in limerick form.

>There once was a goblin horde
>Who attacked me when I lost my sword
>So I gave them a whack
>They lost their attack
>At least then I was no longer bored

The man pauses, mouth open in an “O” of surprise, before his epxressions tightens into a look of umbrage. “You’re fucking psychotic! These Bolotianyk are only expressing their disapproval and rage against a system that others them on a constant daily basis! Do you have any idea how hurtful it is to stand in the way of their self-expression like you are, you fucking pedophile?!”

Not really sure where the pedophile bit came from.

>No, not really. Don’t care that much either.

The man gasps. “H-how dare you! Great Oppressed One, let the light of a thousand inequities flame bright and righteous! Greater Check Privilege!”

You narrowly evade another bolt of white light.

>The strange man seems to be chanting something else again. What will Bones do?
>Action and d20

Rolled 7

>>29881472
Stick the lindworm bone between our legs and thrust obscenely with it, the phallic symbolism of our oppressive nature will shatter his fragile mind.

Rolled 20

>>29881472
>Action and d20
Tell him to check his casting privilege.
By breaking his arms.

File: 1391037844556.jpg-(197 KB, 1280x960, Baby Seal 3..jpg)

197 KB JPG

Rolled 12

>>29881472
>>Action and d20
Distract him by mentionning his living privileges.

Then club him like a canadian clubs a seal.

Rolled 17

>>29881472
I'll give you the privilege of my fist punching your face!

And if anything, seeing as your the priest here and not me, you probably had a child with you before you popped out, eh?

Looks like somebody is about to get his privilege checked lacrosse style. Writing

“Great Oppressed One, infuse me with the strength of a thousand jezebels! Superior Empowerment!”

You watch in awe as the robed man hulks out. Muscles tear through his loose sleeves as his body doubles in height. The strange man doubles over clutching his chest, before jerking upright, arms spread out behind his back, as two large boobies burst through the front his robes.

>Wat.

“I am Social Justicar Barl Vermon,” the man intones, his voice rumbling several octaves deeper. “Fear my matronly fonts of PAIN.”

You struggle to contain the flood of “wat” that is surging within your skull. You fail.

>Wat.

You narrowly dodge a massive fist. As you rise back up to your feet, your gestalt flicks into overdrive, trying to figure out how best to handle the situation. One suggestion stands out above the rest. Placing the bone splinter club between your thighs, you wave it at Social-Justicar Vermon, pelvic thrusting rhythmically.

Vermon screams in anguish as your phallic symbolism painfully rending his divine empowerment away from his physical form. The Social-Justicar shrinks back to normal size and sex. Arms out stretched, he looks down at his now flat chest. “M-my matronly fonts…”

You walk up to the shocked holy warrior. He looks up at you, tears leaking out from his eyes.

>Should’ve checked that caster privilege, champ.

Club still sandwiched between your thighs, you bring it down onto his arms with a sickening crunch.

>>29876203
>>29876225
I forgive you
But only if we finish this quest by possessing a chunk of metal which is eventually recycled into a shower head in the distant future, from which we can torment our victims with homoerotic urges.

As Social-Justicar Vermon writhes on the ground, screaming in agony, you walk around the caravan, taking stock of the damage. Looks like a few dead workmen, but the fat merchant seems alright as Ivan helps him clamber out from underneath a large scale. Before you have a chance to call out, Katrina and Asta approach you from two different angles, both loudly insisting that they are fine, no need to worry.

You weren’t all that concerned really, but you decide not to tell them that.

“So,” says Asta, thumbing the handle of a very bloody wood axe, ”Think we just figured out what’s been making all of those caravans vanish.”

Katrina bobs her head up and down in a nod. “Nyow we just nyeed to figure out why they attacked us.”

Ivan walks up to the three of you, pointing dully at Vermon. “Pretty sure that guy’ll know. Better not let him escape though.”

You turn around and hurry back to Vermon, who was trying to crawl away from the site of the failed ambush. A heavy boot on his lower back puts a stop to that. You flip the Social-Justicar over with a flick of your foot. The man looks up at the four of you from the tatters of his robe.

“You’ll never make me talk,” he hisses.

“Oh I don’t know,” replies Asta, smiling dangerously, “I think we just might.”

>Welp, it’s interrogation time Bones!
>Specify a method you want to use to interrogate and some questions you’ll ask Social-Justicar Vermon

Rolled 1

>>29882377
Take Astra and Katrina aside, ask them to start moaning about how much they love their big strong manly men fighting hard to defend them.

be sure to tell them that this should break him down quickly, otherwise they'll just hit bones.

Rolled 6

>>29882377
>Welp, it’s interrogation time Bones!

>>29882474 Sounds like a good of plan as any.

>>29882377
check that right to remain silent, commoner!

Rolled 14

>>29882377
Guilt trip him about how privileged he is for still having legs until he breaks.

>>29882377
Switch to the menacing burlap sack. Threaten him. Leave and return with the friendly burlap sack and a coffee, warn him about the other guy. "Watch out for him; he's a bad cop. It's ok you can trust me - I'm a good cop."

Rolled 13

>>29882639
Forgot to roll!

>Ivan, Katrina, Asta, keep an eye on this fucker, I’ve got a plan.

You walk away from the four humans and towards your pack, where you quickly switch from your generic, expressionless burlap sack, to one with a frown face sketched onto it. You come back to the four humans, and loom over the Social-Justicar.

>Alright shitbag, you need to check that right to remain silent, before I check it for you.

You begin to pace around the Social-Justicar in a circle, pretending to read off a clipboard.

>We’ve got you busted red handed for Consorting with Dark Creatures, Assaulting an Officer of the Law, Attempted Theft, Attempted Homicide I, Conspiracy to Commit Banditry, and Public Indecency.

You stomp your foot down near Vermon’s head, hissing furiously.

>Don’t even get me started on what we’ve got you suspected of either, shit for brains. Even half these charges stick, today’ll be the last day you’ll get to check your “dropped the soap without a centaur mounting me” privilege for the rest of your anally ravaged life.

Suddenly you jerk upright and bustle back on over to your pack, switching to your happy face burlap sack. You walk back to the three humans, holding a water pouch. You couldn’t find a coffee mug. Or coffee for that matter. You crouch down on your haunches, trying to look friendly.

>Hey man, sorry about my partner back there. You need to watch out for him. He’s a loose cannon who’s been on the beat too long and seen too much shit. I should know, I’m his straightlaced, well meaning partner fresh out of police academy. You can trust me, I’m a good cop.

“A-a-aren’t you the same person?” Asks Vermon, biting back tears. “Why did you switch sacks? Oh by the Great Oppressed One, you’re insane.”

You stand up quickly, and reconvene with your companions.

>He’s smarter than I thought. We’ll have to come up with a new plan.

“Wait,” says Ivan, exasperation evident, “THAT was your plan?”

>Yeah.

There is no shame. It was a friggin brilliant plan.

>But I’ve got another one.

“Let’s hear it then,” grumbles Ivan. You gather your companions into a huddle, and whisper softly. Eventually the four of you break, and you and Ivan walk over to Vermon.

The pair of you stand around him, saying nothing. Faces stoic.

Then in the distance Asta moans, “Oooohhhhh, did you see how Bones oppressed those stupid stinking Goblins?”

Katrina responds, “Ahhh, Gods yes! Nothing better than when a man steps in to save me.”

Vermon blanches.

“I just love it when a man steps in and firmly takes my agency away!”

“Nothing better! Except maybe if it’s in a kitchen!”

“Please,” sobs Vermon, “Make them stop.”

Ivan sneers. “But why would we do that? I wouldn’t ever want to keep them from freely expressing themselves, would you Bones?”

>Definitely not!

“Uggghhh! The way Ivan just burnt that nasty mean old goblin to a crisp, saving me like the damsel in distress I am!”

“Or how Bones lifted me into the air, completely invalidating years of experience as a proud and independent huntress!”

Vermon is openly weeping now. “Please! Please! I’ll tell you anything you want to know!”

>Oh good. Glad to hear it.

>What do you ask Vermon?

Rolled 11

>>29883270
>>What do you ask Vermon?
Okay shitlord, who sent you? Why are you targeting us? Did you check your living privilege today? What is your purpose? How carvernous is your ass? How many of you are there?

>>29883406
Alright, writing

>Alright dicknugget, who sent you? Why are you targetting us? Did you check your living privilege today? What is your purpose? How cavernous is your ass? How many of you are there?

“High Cleric Xytomon. The High Cleric said you are the great oppressor of our generation. No not yet, is that even a thing? In a philosophical or mundane sense? About one hundred and twenty cubic inches but only for a little bit. Like I dunno, several?”

>Okay then, who is Xytomon? What’s the Great Oppressor? It is now. Both. Holy shit, how long can you manage that? Give me an estimation.

“Xytomon is one of the leaders of the Ecumene of the Disprivileged. The Great Oppressor is the title we give to a great enemy of our Church. Then no, I haven’t. To serve the Great Oppressed Will and liberate the masses from your oppressive hierarchy, and to kill you and retrieve a book. Like five minutes, tops. Maybe seven or eight?”

Ivan scampers away from the two of you, returning with Radomil. He holds it up for Vermon to look at. “This book?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” replies Vermon.

After you finish checking Vermon’s non-shattered kneecaps privilege for him, the four of you gather around Radomil, looking down at the old leather bound book.

>Wonder why they’d want that old book?

“I dunno, maybe for the powerful magic hidden inside of it?”

>No need to be a bitch, Ivan.

As the four of you stare at the old book, something long ago trapped deep beneath the earth stirs.

>>29884009
Alright, well we made more progress today than I was anticipating.

This will be the last OGQ for a long time, I suspect.

It was a privilege QMing for you guys, and I hope to see at least some of you when this gets the redux treatment.

Rolled 19

>>29884105
>It was a privilege QMing for you guys, and I hope to see at least some of you when this gets the redux treatment.
Alright, see you in DAQ.
Sensually

>>29884105
I await that day.

I'll see you next DAQ!

>>29884105
You're an awesome ass writer SG. Don't forget us little people when your rolling in all that top-tier Quest dosh.

We'll catch you at the next DAQ, right?

>>29884214
>>29884153
>>29884127
You will absolutely see me in DAQ tomorrow, It'll be a grand old time, or at least, I hope it will be.

To anyone who doesn't know by now, I am running another quest that I believe is somewhat similar to OGQ, at least in terms of tone and humor. It is called Deniable Assets Quest, and since you guys are all great, I'd love to see you there, even if I don't necessarily realize it.

Thanks for being here and encouraging me through my first quest. I cannot express how important your support was to me, and important it continues to be.

>>29884105
>It was a privilege

I see what you did there. Farewell, QM! Thanks for running.