A man who wanted only blessed peace, even if he didn't know it, stepped cautiously into the town's only grocer, reading intently from a clipboard of listed instructions. The few residents in the store on a Tuesday morning smiled at him knowingly and politely. He returned their nods and greetings absent-mindedly, greeting them like he would greet strangers, though he had been seeing them every week for quite some time now. He had created quite a stir when he arrived, but he was simply accepted as the town's eccentric, a man who had come to get away form the world, and who had already gotten away from himself.

"Morning, Soldier," Carl Weatherton said from behind the cash register. The confused-looking man looked at him with a furrowed brow, glancing down at his clipboard.

"You know me?" he murmured, perusing the text on the page. "Yes, it says strangers are likely to recognize me..."

>Sidenote: sorry for any errors, proofreading was minimal

"Well, it's not like there are too many people in Tennyson dressed up like you are every day, son," the good-natured cashier said with a chuckle, gesturing at the authentic-looking, faded WWI uniform the man was wearing. Had he known that the "son" was old enough to be his grandfather, he would have been shocked, but not inordinately. Shocking things were much less shocking than they ever used to be.
"It says here," the man said, tracing a finger along the paper as he read, "That I'm supposed to come here and get milk and eggs if there are none in the...I guess you call it a 'fridge.'"
"And?" the cashier said, like an actor reading from a script.
"...Well, there weren't any eggs. Or any milk."

"I see," Carl said, nodding sagely. "Well get yourself whatever you need and I'll check you out."

Carl watched the military-dressed man wander among the aisles, picking out the items as he had so many times before, and with the same oblivious unfamiliarity as he had displayed the first time he entered the store. Weatherton shook his head; certainly a character, this one.

Finally the soldier approached the register with an armful of groceries. Carl rang him up pleasantly, undercharging him by several dollars. The man fumbled with his wallet, handing over a small handful of crumpled bills.

"Keep the change," he said, taking the bag of groceries and exiting the store. Carl watched him through the shopfront window. Halfway across the street, the man's steps slowed to a halt, looking around him with a shadow of fear hanging over his face. He glanced with some confusion at the bag in his hand, then at the clipboarded list in his other. Reading the clipboard seemed to provide him with some measure of context or comfort, and he went on his way, nodding his head politely at a passing woman.

"Oh, good morning, Mister Brody!" the woman said cheerfully.

"Er...good morning?" the man replied, looking at the clipboard again.

>Is anyone with me? Anyone at all?

"We can't punch through!" one soldier's last words rang through the twilight, muffled under the hail of gunfire reports,his fall eclipsed by the strobelight flashing of muzzle flares.

Surrounded by the firing squad of special operatives, the man in the white coat grinned, sweating just slightly with the exertion placed upon his mind. Around him whirled a maelstrom of bullets and casings, his fingers twitching ever so slightly like a weaver adjusting a loom, his mind doing the brunt work of holding the fire at bay. In the pack on his back rested a hard drive containing a veritable smash and grab of state secrets, from dignitary travel plans, CIA operatives, unknown DARPA projects...anything a desperate criminal could scrape off a secure hard drive and still have time to telekinetically blow out a wall and escape.

I be f5'in stony, don you give up hope now

Every so often, the man would spot an opening and send one of the myriad of bullets around him slinging back towards the soldiers, slowly gaining ground in an attempt to break the stalemate. His concentration almost slipped momentarily, bullets whirling inwards, inches from his face, before he managed to regain control, to extend his ego over the space around him and force the physical actions of the world to conform to his will; for a short time and in a small space, he was his own God. The information he now carried would fetch an enormous price in Iran, Korea, maybe even Russia was still interested in this sort of political skullduggery. From there, he would be off, off to some sunwashed beach...no, that was too cliche...maybe a cabin in the mountains somewhere, some small town in Europe, somewhere he didn't have to answer to anything or anyone...he just needed to put some more holes in these government lap-dogs first.

"He's wandering. Take the shot. Now."

Liam Carnegy's last thoughts drifted away with the paste of his brain as the anti-materials round punctured, and quickly obliterated, his skull. His limp body slumped to the ground, silent amid the hollow metallic symphony of bullets falling to the pavement, empty casings ringing on the asphalt like funeral bells. Soldiers moved quickly to confirm that his headless body was in fact dead and that the backpack had been unharmed.

Five blocks away, on the top level of a parking garage, a girl no more than 13 years old heaved a sigh, pocketing the ejected massive casing from the Barrett rifle laid out before her. She sat back, taking in a moment of silence after the tense waiting game she had just endured, her small chest heaving under the almost comical-looking uniform they had specially made to fit someone her size. Then, hefting the rifle effortlessly, she stepped calmly down the stairs to the street level, moving to group with the other soldiers.

"That's a confirmed kill and a clean package, Jailbait. Let's go home."

The faint trace of a smile crossed the girl's lips at the callsign. Only her eyes betrayed the signs of age, of things seen and done that left deep scars, even on skin as perfect and pale and artificially regulated as hers. Countless wires sculpted by an unknown and fatherly hand perfectly encapsulated the growing mind within the child's shell, processors and drive disks clinging with perfect recall to scenes of pain and violence that would terrify hardened soldiers. She was full to bursting with images that left men empty for the rest of their lives. The faint trace of a smile was rare, at least on the job.

One helicopter ride away, the girl's hand bobbed firmly in the grasp of the aged man, one of the numerous political and business beneficiaries pumping blood through the perforated corpse of Arkham Research. Not that it was called Arkham Research anymore. The Arkham name had been ripped apart as the scapegoat for the majority of what had gone wrong in the too-recent reality-bending clusterfuck. Now the framework had been repurposed, with stricter government oversight, an ethics committee, the scrutiny of the public and the media, and the ever-present threat ringing from the lips of the new boogeyman, the new messiah, played and replayed and replayed from the first and only press conference she ever gave, the last time she was ever seen.

"Clean up this mess. Or I will."

"Once again, Clara, your knowledge and expertise in this matter has been most appreciated. Your fee has been deposited in your usual account. Any chance we could get a press conference out of you? I know the public would love to see some good coming out of-"

"No, sir, I think I'll pass on the publicity circus," Clara refused for what seemed like the dozenth time. "I'm going to spend some time at home, I think."

"Wherever that is," the man said with a smirk. Clara ignored the comment.

Outside, she waved off the congratulations of several other soldiers, probably fresh Arkham acquires, loading equipment into the back of a white van. There was no shortage of supernaturally gifted individuals that had, one way or another, slipped under the radar during the crisis, or had never come under Arkham's scrutiny at all. Plenty of them wanted to make trouble, and far too few were interested in helping. On the side of the van "The Walker Foundation" was printed with the subtext, "Under Her Watchful Wings." The entire label was haloed by the silhouette of angelic wings. Clara had to chuckle every time she saw it.

Someone identify OP's picture please, I want a larger version.

Brody shot awake as the first fingertips of sunlight were grasping at the window blinds. His heart pounding in his chest, hands shaking, he waited for his eyes to focus in the dim light. Covering the far wall of the bedroom was a message printed neatly in black paint:

DON'T WORRY BRODY. YOU ARE SAFE.

As confusing as that was, it lended a vague sense of familiarity to the surroundings. Wherever he was, people knew his name. And at least it wasn't the trenches.

Shambling into the kitchen, Brody found a young girl frying eggs in a skillet, shoulder-length hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Bacon sizzled on a plate on the counter, and coffee bubbled and percolated in a nearby pot. Outside, birds greeted the sun cordially, and the trees hissed in the breeze, quivering branches visible out the sliding glass back door. Brody opened his mouth to speak, but the girl quieted him.

"Don't worry, Brody. There's a card in your pocket. Read it."

Digging into the pockets of his fatigues, Brody eventually found a laminated card displaying a few short lines of text.

"Devon Brody, the war is over. And the one after that. And several more.
You are safe here. I recommend the fishing nearby. It's very relaxing.
If there is a young girl here, do not worry. She wrote this card. Ask her any questions you may have.
Her name is Clara. She is your best friend."

"Cl-clara?" Brody posed, tentatively.

The girl nodded, breaking into a cheerful smile and embracing the confused soldier. He let one arm slip around her thin shoulders as she nuzzled her face into the permanently-frayed threads of his uniform, bewildered by the strange setting and events. Best friends with a little girl?

"I'm sorry I was gone for a few days, I had some work to do. But now I'm here and we can just have fun, relax. Here, I made you breakfast." She gestured to the plate of bacon, now graced with a fried egg.

"I don't like eggs, ma'am." Brody said sheepishly.

"That's just because your mom always made them runny," Clara said matter-of-factly. "Just try."

Brody took the plate unquestioningly and moved into the living room, with Clara on his heels. Shelves of books ligned the walls. Clara had read them all, and was constantly adding more. There were a few, mostly dime novels, that Brody had read, and she enjoyed those more than any of the others. Whenever she couldn't stop thinking about the things that had happened, she would talk with Brody about Frank Reade or one of the cowboy stories in the pulp magazines on the shelf.

She watched happily as he dug into the food he didn't need to eat. His body would metabolize it out of existence within an hour anyway, but her face beamed gleefully as he nodded appreciatively around a mouthful of fried eggs. After breakfast he would have questions, like he always did, and she would explain everything with the same loving patience she always had. Maybe later they could go fishing, or play in the rain. She lay back in the chair, both of them looking out the back door at the sun slowly making its Sisyphean climb into the heavens, partially obscured by dark distant clouds. It would storm later. But for now there was blessed peace.

>>12009664
>I wish I had a larger version to give you.

Well that's that. It's what you guys wanted me to write about the most, so I did. If you didn't follow Bloodquest, then I'm sure you didn't read this far, but just in case:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Bloodquest
(Part 5 contains links to the first 4.)

I hope you guys liked it. I had parts of it complete, but I really got motivated over the last few days when I saw a few Quest-thread metathreads and saw people waxing nostalgic about Bloodquest.

AlchemyQuest tomorrow? Who's down?

h͕̻͉̞̠̺͋ͣ̈́̅͌̓e̗̘̪̻̋͋̾̿ ͓͖͍̥̯̗̀̅͡ͅc̝͙͙ͥ̂̿̓͒̚͢ơ̹̪̪̮͖̼̋ͪ̀͜m̞̣͚̫͍̝̜͍͖̾͋̽ͮ͋͞e̅͛
̧̲̙̺͇̜͎͖̐͘s̟̼̟͚̥̤͉̪̑ͩ̌̕ ̫͕͚͋ͦ̓́
͓̫̹̠̥̯̰̅̋ͥ̀͢ ̵̜̥̱̱̪̖͇͈̃ͯ̽̓
̣̯͕̱͙̾ͯͮ̌̐̍̌̈́Zͣ́̉ͮ̂ͦ҉̛̻̥̮͉̻̩͘ͅA̢̙̥ͨ̋̀ͨ̿̍̓ͮ́͝ͅLͣ̽ͧ̌̾ͨ
̵̺͔̱̭̲͞Ģ̜̰͍̪̈́̒̈ͮ̄ͫ̑O̬̹̗̰̝̹̔̽̀ͫ̐̿͒!͙̙͕̠̹͐̈̾̂ͤ̓͟ ̊̄̉͛͆̽̉ͭ͏̵͚͔͎͈
̤̰͉̙͙͉̟̳͐ͪ̈́͝

>>12009857
I'm glad you enjoyed it, Zalgo.

I archived the thread, I'll email it to the Bloodquest regulars a little later. Sorry if you didn't follow the quest and none of this made any sense to you. (You should read it. It's pretty good). And sorry if you did follow the quest and this wasn't as good as you wanted it to be.

I'll be there, count on it.

>>12009901
Excellent. What did you think of this little side story? Feedback is a vital component in my photosynthetic processes.

To my interests, this is RELEVANT.
Also, upon a later date: Alchemy Quest FURK YURR!

Where's Alchemy Quest, motherfucker.

>>12009998
Hopefully I'll be able to run steadily on Thursday nights, with extra sessions where available. I've been fleshing out a fuckload of extra plotlines, and planning to address what I feel is a lack of significant character interaction in AlchemyQuest to date. I want you guys to develop Gillivers as a character, and to do that he needs people to talk to.

>>12010041
He'll become like Robinson Crusoe, building a small town on the island and forgetting about the world he left.

He'll inspire the crew of the ship to stay with him, and together they'll build a new world.

Got me right in the heart strings, StonerDM.

So, is there any hope for a cure to Brody's condition?

I know someone mentioned the pancea pills as a possible solution

>>12010057
Ha. Ha. Yes, that's exactly what will happen.

>W+mySS&Oxley splien
What the fuck, captcha

>>12010041
Keep in mind that Helen came into her own gradually. Gilliver will too.
Also, Homunculi!!!

Did the .doc version of Bloodquest ever get finished? I wanted to show it to my friend.

>>12009336
source on pic? or a bigger one perhaps?

>>captcha: representational camwet

Bravo stonerDm, Bravo

S̯̬̞̹͙̒ͦ̓̀̓L͎̬̯̈̀̏̕ͅE̦ͮ͌E̘̜̺̙̻ͤ͊̄ͪͦ͂ͥ͗͌͟͞P͓̲̲̜ͫ̊̽͛̐̕&
#44;̧̟͔̞̂ͦ̂̔~ ̋̆̀ͬ͗ͣ͒͜`̧̟̂ͦ̂̔ ̤̺̠̠̫̬̞
,̧̟͔̞̂ͦ̂̔~̤̺̠̠̫̬̞ `
N̨͕͕͓ͭ̔̃̏̚O̶͕̦̓̋̇ͧ̓̍͑Ṉ̔̎ͫ͞E͇͖̻̹̍̿̕ ͮͮ͂ͭ̎̋Š̪̕O͇̯͈̟͓̲͑̒̅̈ ͔̞B̤̺̠̠̫̬̞Ḽ͇̦̂̀A̻̬͎͎̋̂̍͠C͙͓̪̙ͭ̉K̷̘ͦ̑ͩ ̤͎̯̰̥̞͕͘A̋̆̀ͬ͗ͣ͒͜Ş̟̂ͦ̂̔
B̶͕̦̓̋̇ͧ̓̍͑E̱̔̎ͫ͞L͇͖̻̹̍̿̕Oͮͮ͂ͭ̎̋V̪̌̕E͇̯͈̟͓̲͑̒̅̈D͔̞ ̤̺̠̠̫̬̞B̭͇̦̂̀Y̻̬͎͎̋̂̍͠ ͙͓̪̙ͭ̉H̷̘ͦ̑ͩI̤͎̯̰̥̞͕͘M̋̆̀ͬ͗ͣ͒͜
,̧̟͔̞̂ͦ̂̔~̤̺̠̠̫̬̞ ̭͇̦̂̀ ̻̬͎͎̋̂̍͠ ͙͓̪̙ͭ̉ ̷̘ͦ̑ͩ
Î̧̟͔̞ͦ̂̔ ̤̺̠̠̫̬̞Ĉ̭͇̦̀A̻̬͎͎̋̂̍͠N͙͓̪̙ͭ̉'̷̘ͦ̑ͩT̤͎̯̰̥̞͕͘ ̋̆̀ͬ͗ͣ͒͜F̧̟̂ͦ̂̔Iͮͮ͂ͭ̎̋Ň̪̕D͇̯͈̟͓̲͑̒̅̈ ͔̞T̤̺̠̠̫̬̞Ĥ̭͇̦̀E̻̬͎͎̋̂̍͠ ͙͓̪̙ͭ̉L̷̘ͦ̑ͩI̤͎̯̰̥̞͕͘G̋̆̀ͬ͗ͣ͒͜H̷̘ͦ̑ͩT̤͎̯̰̥̞͕͘.̋̆̀ͬ͗ͣ͒
͜
Î̧̟͔̞ͦ̂̔ ̤̺̠̠̫̬̞Ĉ̭͇̦̀A̻̬͎͎̋̂̍͠N͙͓̪̙ͭ̉'̷̘ͦ̑ͩT̤͎̯̰̥̞͕͘ ̋̆̀ͬ͗ͣ͒͜Ş̟̂ͦ̂̔L̤̺̠̠̫̬̞Ḙ͇̦̂̀E̻̬͎͎̋̂̍͠P͙͓̪̙ͭ̉.̷̘ͦ̑ͩ ̤͎̯̰̥̞͕͘S̋̆̀ͬ͗ͣ͒͜O̷̘ͦ̑ͩṲ͎̯̰̥̞͕͘N̋̆̀ͬ͗ͣ͒͜D̷̘ͦ̑ͩ.̤͎̯̰͘
̥̞͕

I̶͕̦̓̋̇ͧ̓̍͑ ̱̔̎ͫ͞H͇͖̻̹̍̿̕Eͮͮ͂ͭ̎̋Ǎ̪̕R̻̬͎͎̋̂̍͠ ͙͓̪̙ͭ̉H̷̘ͦ̑ͩÎ̧̟ͦ̂̔Mͮͮ͂ͭ̎̋.̷̘ͦ̑ͩ

H̷̨̘ͦ̑̃̏ͩ̚Î̧̻̟ͦ̂̋̂̍̔͠Mͮͮ͂ͭ̎̋.̷̷̘̘ͦ̑ͩͦ̑ͩ,̧̟͔̞̂ͦ̂̔~
,̧̟͔̞̂ͦ̂̔
H̤̺̠̠̫̬̞Ḙ͇̦̂̀ ̻̬͎͎̋̂̍͠C͙͓̪̙ͭ̉O̷̘ͦ̑ͩM̤͎̯̰̥̞͕͘E̋̆̀ͬ͗ͣ͒͜Ş̟̂ͦ̂̔.̷̘ͦ̑ͩ
,̧̟͔̞̂ͦ̂̔~͙͓̪̙ͭ̉ ̷̘ͦ̑ͩ.̤͎̯̰̥̞͕͘ ̋̆̀ͬ͗ͣ͒͜`̧̟̂ͦ̂̔ ̤̺̠̠̫̬̞

Did someone finish putting Bloodquest down into a word document? The end of the last quest thread's link doesn't show anything.

bump for reply to
>>12010612

Encore, Stoner encore.

A logical and heartwarming good end for those two characters.

>>12010921require this post to be fulfilled

I require a .doc of Bloodquest. Did it ever get finished?

>>12010612
yes, seriusly, I want that document!

Was some awesome stuff right there!

>>Captchha friday caterham

Bump for the document.

One last bump. Anyone have the document containing the quest?

Oh good, made it in before thread death.

I loved the story, StonerDM. I hope there will be more. I also am looking forward to AlchemyQuest very much. I can never join it because I'm on the other side of the world and sleeping while you run it, but reading the threads afterward is very enjoyable. Not only are they good to follow the story of, but I manage to pick up a little trick every so often that I can incorporate into my own GMing.

>>12014395
I'll note that I haven't received an email from the guy doing it in ages.

I might have to take the job myself; however, unlike his method, I'll be including the player posts and die rolls that were used, as well.

Hell, I could go whole hog and make it into a series of web pages that could be tossed up by chapter, with little sidebars containing some of the hilarious non-plot commentary that went on.

>>12014947
Please do so, I want to introduce a friend to the idea of questing with a damn good one, not a shitty one.

>>12014965
>Damn good

It's not just that. Bloodquest is among the very best that /tg/ has had. I mean, what would you consider its peers in excellence?

You COULD introduce your friend with just the links to the actual threads though. I'm just saying. I'll probably try to get something of the sort done but life is currently hectic and if someone else wants to give it a shot by all means--the sooner the better, after all.

>>12015027
Apparently he finds threads to be too chaotic to browse through. Still, would be nice. I think I still have a beginning version, but I will have to check.

>>12015065
I'll see what I can do.

On a side note, I am interested in what people rank as good as Bloodquest. There's a couple I can think of that I'd rank as high, but I don't think I prefer any to it.

I personally preferred Bloodquest's length, but longer ones seem good too. Kinda like reading the first part of a trilogy: The first part is good, but it can stand on it's own.
In order of preference:
Bloodquest
Doppleganger Damacy
AlchemyQuest
Here's to hoping that AlchemyQuest lives up to it's predecessor. Cheers for the compilation, but I need to get to bed. G'night.

>>12015320
Have a good one.

bumpan

People seem to be pretty rabid, in here and in my inbox, about the doc conversion of Bloodquest. I've emailed the dude who said he was doing it, and haven't heard from him since like early June or so, and apparently the link he posted doesn't lead to much, so it would be safe to assume that it isn't happening.

Personally, I think reading it in its original thread format is pretty cool. If you want it in a longer text format, one of you's is going to have to bite that bullet, because that's a shitload of work, especially if you wanted to reformat it in the proper literary third person.

I'm glad people think my quests are the BEST EVAR. I'm always trying to improve, and AlchemyQuest tonight should really start picking up the pace.

bump

bumpin the SHIT out of it