- Location
- USA
No rogue types? From the first story post...
Doesn't sound like an everyman type to me, at least.
Doesn't sound like an everyman type to me, at least.
- Location
- United States
[X] Everyman
Gally
Got the whole word talking King Kiba
It doesn't really. I may occasionally hand out stat increases as milestones but Genesys generally relies more on skills and environmental factors rather than boosting stats.
I would consider that more an example of Mac's disposition than his statistics. Any of the archetypes could fit a more roguish character.
- Location
- Somewhere
[X] Everyman
This seems to fit Mac's character the best. A bit of a drifter that's done a little bit of everything, but never really settled on anything.
I doubt any of the characters we've met are from the old quest. Piper's heraldry used blue jays, but I doubt this is her. If anything I'm starting to think none of them are around and something went terribly wrong. I think they'll show up, but probably in the same situation as Mac. I'm trying not to read too much into the last quest till we have more information, but it's starting to feel like none of the Chivalry is directly connected to the old Knights and that might be the issue. We've met two of the people Mac considers to be the most powerful people in Camelot and I doubt any of them are people Mordred would recognize. Still don't know enough to be sure, but I don't think Mac is being deceived, it feels like this is far enough in the future that the Mordred and the old crew are Legends.
Reading the blurb at the top of the first page it feels like Annabelle could be the "God of ardent day" and Mordred could be the "God of tranquil night".
This seems to fit Mac's character the best. A bit of a drifter that's done a little bit of everything, but never really settled on anything.
I doubt any of the characters we've met are from the old quest. Piper's heraldry used blue jays, but I doubt this is her. If anything I'm starting to think none of them are around and something went terribly wrong. I think they'll show up, but probably in the same situation as Mac. I'm trying not to read too much into the last quest till we have more information, but it's starting to feel like none of the Chivalry is directly connected to the old Knights and that might be the issue. We've met two of the people Mac considers to be the most powerful people in Camelot and I doubt any of them are people Mordred would recognize. Still don't know enough to be sure, but I don't think Mac is being deceived, it feels like this is far enough in the future that the Mordred and the old crew are Legends.
Reading the blurb at the top of the first page it feels like Annabelle could be the "God of ardent day" and Mordred could be the "God of tranquil night".
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Things move fast. I barely got distracted when the first post went up, and the quest is on its third update already.
The thing I miss most from the previous incarnation (hah!) of the quest is that we didn't interact with Morgana much. I am glad to see this rectified from the get-go!
They are manifesting Heraldries, inducing them in new recruits, people who didn't have any prior connection to them. I am almost certain that Mac's memories are entirely true, and not just because we got to vote on his backstory. He just got soul-linked to something or someone else, and judging by the first reaction he had upon the manifestation - anger, fear and an overwhelming desire to kill a nameless guard - that someone was not a happy camper.
I don't know why they think manifesting a Heraldry like this is a good idea, but maybe they don't have a choice. Then again, Doctor Isley implied that cases like ours are rare, if not unheard of. I'd like to learn more about the entire process.
I like the Knights, they've got a lot of character, and seeing them at work makes me feel a tinge of guilt for hiding important things from them. Still would've voted that way though; the lure of Morgana is too strong.
[x] Entertainer
The thing I miss most from the previous incarnation (hah!) of the quest is that we didn't interact with Morgana much. I am glad to see this rectified from the get-go!
I don't know what to think about the fact that our Heraldry feels as if it runs on teenage angst.
Might be a bit late to comment on that, but...
They are manifesting Heraldries, inducing them in new recruits, people who didn't have any prior connection to them. I am almost certain that Mac's memories are entirely true, and not just because we got to vote on his backstory. He just got soul-linked to something or someone else, and judging by the first reaction he had upon the manifestation - anger, fear and an overwhelming desire to kill a nameless guard - that someone was not a happy camper.
I don't know why they think manifesting a Heraldry like this is a good idea, but maybe they don't have a choice. Then again, Doctor Isley implied that cases like ours are rare, if not unheard of. I'd like to learn more about the entire process.
Kumori must be a very lonely woman, to animate furniture and then treat it like pets.
I like the Knights, they've got a lot of character, and seeing them at work makes me feel a tinge of guilt for hiding important things from them. Still would've voted that way though; the lure of Morgana is too strong.
[x] Entertainer
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I guess I'm at a disadvantage by not reading the prior thread here - I really hate the trope of working against the organization you're a part of. But the vote is over, so it goes.
[X] Everyman
[X] Scholar
[X] Everyman
will408914
(slouching towards bethlehem)
- Location
- California
[X] Entertainer
I still remember the flute scene from the first quest.
I still remember the flute scene from the first quest.
JoshieWoshie
Mister Doge
[X] Everyman
- Location
- USA
[X] Everyman
In the old quest charm was our worst stat even though the music scene was very memorable. Everyman seems like a fine layout.
So tapping into old souls to get to their power. Definitely a possibility, but we don't have enough information to know for sure either way.
In the old quest charm was our worst stat even though the music scene was very memorable. Everyman seems like a fine layout.
So tapping into old souls to get to their power. Definitely a possibility, but we don't have enough information to know for sure either way.
- Location
- US
[X] Entertainer
Boot Camp
Gally
Got the whole word talking King Kiba
[x] Everyman
Had you not lived through the rape of Tintagel, the first month of training at the Sunlit Spire would've been the most miserable thirty days of your entire life.
Your days begin in the dark, long before the sun even thinks to rise. By lamplight you tackle your assigned reading – a pile of texts that only seems to grow taller, no matter how many you finish. History, magical theory, strategy and tactics, wartime journals written by Knights long since dead. Biology, chemistry, physics. Poetry, scripture, collected fairy tails. It seems as if the Chivalry wants you to read every book in Kumori's library, which you have since heard is rumored to be infinite.
After you get your fill of the written word you report to the mess hall, to receive a breakfast large enough to feed a family of five. That part isn't so bad, at least, though you could probably do with a little less of Alaska's chatter.
"I didn't get through the Thirty-third Revelation," the orange-haired girl says around a mouthful of scrambled eggs, already loading another prodigious bite onto her fork. You've never seen anyone eat as quickly or efficiently as Alaska, and it doesn't seem to even slow down her talking. "Can someone summarize it for me?"
June takes a much more measured bite of his own breakfast. "Honestly, are you ever going to actually finish a reading?" he asks. "You're almost a week behind already."
Alaska sticks her tongue out at him. "I was a week behind last week," she says, twirling her fork. "It's more like a week and a half now."
"You didn't miss much," you tell her. "The back half of the thirty-third reads a lot like the first thirty-two."
June closes his eyes and places his forehead against the table. "Both of you are hopeless," he says quietly, and you and Alaska exchange a small grin. "The thirty-third is foundational to the themes of the Revelation. It explains the eclipsing of the sun and the resulting famine."
"Ugh, I know," Alaska groans. "Don't even get me started on that. Like, what the hell is an eclipse?"
"Well nobody knows, exactly," June says, leaning forward. "The prevailing theory for years has been that it was some kind of ancient war-magic, but the Knight-Augur wrote a paper last year arguing it was more a natural disaster. The Revelations doesn't mention many specifics, but in Marcus Aphelios' Lamentation-"
Alaska's mouth drops open slightly, hash-browns falling from her lips. "Bluh?"
"Next week's readings," you tell her. "I think June's already done."
"Oh, no way I'm getting to that," Alaska says, rolling her eyes. "It's not like this stuff is important, right? They're just stories. Nobody really believes any of it anymore."
June bristles. "Even if that were true – which it isn't, since the Orthodox Equinoxists are still very much a thing – the Revelations are cultural and historical lynchpins of-"
Alaska makes a noise like a fart with her mouth and hands. You bend down over your breakfast and do your best to tune them out. You've been working on perfecting the micro-nap…
After breakfast, the three of you head down a few floors to start physical fitness. Your Heraldries grant you a near superhuman strength, speed, and coordination, but there are limits to the lengths you can push your bodies to, limits which you can extend by training your muscles the old fashioned way. The exertion is brutal, more physically demanding than anything you've had to put yourself through before, but you can't say that you entirely hate it. There's a serenity in the exhaustion it brings, a focus that only emerges once you've pushed yourself well past your limits. Whether it's running or swimming, lifting weights or stretching, the rest of the world seems to slip away, and for the first time since you lost your home you feel a semblance of peace.
June doesn't share your zen embrace of exercise, something you can't really blame him for. After a particularly painful set of squats he collapses to the ground, skin slick with sweat, every muscle shaking. "Sun's light," he swears, putting his face in his hands. "Just let me die already." He leans his back against the wall and glances over at Alaska, who is entering hour two on the treadmill. "How in the hell does she do it?" He wonders. "I swear, I don't think I've ever seen her get tired."
"She grew up on a farm," you say, adding weight for your turn with the bar. "A lot of long days in the hot sun, it'll toughen anyone up."
"A farm," June murmurs, his eyes not leaving Alaska. "I think my family used to own a few of those." You would expect a shade of bitterness in his words, you find only weary resignation.
"They did," you tell him. "Hailong Agricultural Works. A couple of my cousins drove your harvesters." June glances up at you, and you shrug. "My dad worked in the mines, my mom in one of the factories."
"I'm sorry," June says, looking away. "I didn't mean to drag up tough memories."
"You didn't." Though the rest of your family had never been overly concerned with company loyalty, your father had been a Hailong man through and through. Hailong money had saved Tintagel when nothing else would, he had been fond of saying. And when the Unseelie had come...well, you had seen the stock reports. June's family hadn't been caught in the attack personally, but they hadn't escaped unscathed. You extend a hand to June and do your best to smile. "Come on," you say, as he clasps your hand with his own. "Miles to go before we sleep."
Fitness is followed closely by lunch, and then by the closest thing you get to a break – meditation. But even sitting cross-legged in a candlelit room for two hours doesn't offer the rest you crave, because you're forced to spend it repeatedly slamming your head against the scholastic wall that is learning your Heraldry's name.
Ever since it manifested your Heraldry has been with you, simmering under your skin, always eager to burst forth into the physical world in an explosion of light and power. Every time you call it you can hear it speak to you, an insistent whisper that you're never quite able to make out.
"Breathe," your instructor tells you, her tone level and practiced and endlessly irritating. "Focus on the rhythm of your Heraldry." The rumor is that Kumori's younger apprentices who draw the short straw are stuck overseeing meditation, and you can see why that would be – it's a job that seems to consist mostly of repeating the same clichéd platitudes often and loudly enough that the students don't fall asleep. The girl working today seems especially bad at that, considering she hasn't yet noticed June and Alaska have fallen asleep leaning on each other, but perhaps she just doesn't care. You certainly wouldn't blame her.
Even your Heraldry seems annoyed by the exercise. It stalks back and forth within you as if agitated, and every time you try to match yourself to its rhythm you feel the rising urge to leap into the fray, feel iron crack against the strength of your armor, feel flesh part before the sharpness of your sword. The same rage and panic that had subsumed you upon manifestation returns, clawing at your mind, until you wrench yourself free and take a moment to breathe, your heart hammering in your chest.
It is during one of these respites that the instructor finds you. "Having trouble?" She asks taking a seat in front of you. She has tattoos on her cheeks, colorful lines that extend down her neck and vanish under her shirt, only to reappear on her hands.
"I don't think my Heraldry likes sitting around," you admit, still breathing heavily.
The instructor nods slowly. "That can happen," she says. "Some Heraldries are more excitable than others."
"I don't know if I'd call it excitable, exactly. More…" you pause for a long time, trying to find the right word, "murder-y?"
The instructor blinks once, twice. "Breathe," she says finally. "Focus on the rhythm of your Heraldry."
You close out the day with combat training, which is hell in a sparring ring but is so much fun that it's worth it.
In the old days, Knights would fight with archaic melee weapons – swords and axes, staves and hammers – and for tradition's sake you still do a little learning with those. But times have changed, and the current line of thinking amongst the Chivalry's top brass is the modern problems require modern solutions.
The practice guns they give you are designed to be as close to the real thing as possible, but instead of throwing lead at supersonic speeds, they hurl paint. You, June and Alaska spend the hours using your newfound super-athleticism to bound across a specially designed obstacle course, peppering each other with so much paint that by the time the exercise is over all three of you look like modern art exhibits.
Hand to hand is significantly less exciting and more painful. The paint guns aren't really capable of causing you pain through an expressed Heraldry, but the fist of another Knight is a different beast entirely. By the end of the first week, June and Alaska have broken your nose so many times that even your Heraldry-accelerated healing can't get rid of the crookedness, and even when the paint comes off, the sheer number and variety of bruises you bear mean it's hard not to draw the comparison to modern art
In combat, Mac excels…
[] In close quarters
+Melee
+Light Guns (Pistol/SMG)
[] At range
+Heavy Guns (Rifle/Sniper)
+Gunnery (Machine Gun/Grenade Launcher)
Had you not lived through the rape of Tintagel, the first month of training at the Sunlit Spire would've been the most miserable thirty days of your entire life.
Your days begin in the dark, long before the sun even thinks to rise. By lamplight you tackle your assigned reading – a pile of texts that only seems to grow taller, no matter how many you finish. History, magical theory, strategy and tactics, wartime journals written by Knights long since dead. Biology, chemistry, physics. Poetry, scripture, collected fairy tails. It seems as if the Chivalry wants you to read every book in Kumori's library, which you have since heard is rumored to be infinite.
After you get your fill of the written word you report to the mess hall, to receive a breakfast large enough to feed a family of five. That part isn't so bad, at least, though you could probably do with a little less of Alaska's chatter.
"I didn't get through the Thirty-third Revelation," the orange-haired girl says around a mouthful of scrambled eggs, already loading another prodigious bite onto her fork. You've never seen anyone eat as quickly or efficiently as Alaska, and it doesn't seem to even slow down her talking. "Can someone summarize it for me?"
June takes a much more measured bite of his own breakfast. "Honestly, are you ever going to actually finish a reading?" he asks. "You're almost a week behind already."
Alaska sticks her tongue out at him. "I was a week behind last week," she says, twirling her fork. "It's more like a week and a half now."
"You didn't miss much," you tell her. "The back half of the thirty-third reads a lot like the first thirty-two."
June closes his eyes and places his forehead against the table. "Both of you are hopeless," he says quietly, and you and Alaska exchange a small grin. "The thirty-third is foundational to the themes of the Revelation. It explains the eclipsing of the sun and the resulting famine."
"Ugh, I know," Alaska groans. "Don't even get me started on that. Like, what the hell is an eclipse?"
"Well nobody knows, exactly," June says, leaning forward. "The prevailing theory for years has been that it was some kind of ancient war-magic, but the Knight-Augur wrote a paper last year arguing it was more a natural disaster. The Revelations doesn't mention many specifics, but in Marcus Aphelios' Lamentation-"
Alaska's mouth drops open slightly, hash-browns falling from her lips. "Bluh?"
"Next week's readings," you tell her. "I think June's already done."
"Oh, no way I'm getting to that," Alaska says, rolling her eyes. "It's not like this stuff is important, right? They're just stories. Nobody really believes any of it anymore."
June bristles. "Even if that were true – which it isn't, since the Orthodox Equinoxists are still very much a thing – the Revelations are cultural and historical lynchpins of-"
Alaska makes a noise like a fart with her mouth and hands. You bend down over your breakfast and do your best to tune them out. You've been working on perfecting the micro-nap…
After breakfast, the three of you head down a few floors to start physical fitness. Your Heraldries grant you a near superhuman strength, speed, and coordination, but there are limits to the lengths you can push your bodies to, limits which you can extend by training your muscles the old fashioned way. The exertion is brutal, more physically demanding than anything you've had to put yourself through before, but you can't say that you entirely hate it. There's a serenity in the exhaustion it brings, a focus that only emerges once you've pushed yourself well past your limits. Whether it's running or swimming, lifting weights or stretching, the rest of the world seems to slip away, and for the first time since you lost your home you feel a semblance of peace.
June doesn't share your zen embrace of exercise, something you can't really blame him for. After a particularly painful set of squats he collapses to the ground, skin slick with sweat, every muscle shaking. "Sun's light," he swears, putting his face in his hands. "Just let me die already." He leans his back against the wall and glances over at Alaska, who is entering hour two on the treadmill. "How in the hell does she do it?" He wonders. "I swear, I don't think I've ever seen her get tired."
"She grew up on a farm," you say, adding weight for your turn with the bar. "A lot of long days in the hot sun, it'll toughen anyone up."
"A farm," June murmurs, his eyes not leaving Alaska. "I think my family used to own a few of those." You would expect a shade of bitterness in his words, you find only weary resignation.
"They did," you tell him. "Hailong Agricultural Works. A couple of my cousins drove your harvesters." June glances up at you, and you shrug. "My dad worked in the mines, my mom in one of the factories."
"I'm sorry," June says, looking away. "I didn't mean to drag up tough memories."
"You didn't." Though the rest of your family had never been overly concerned with company loyalty, your father had been a Hailong man through and through. Hailong money had saved Tintagel when nothing else would, he had been fond of saying. And when the Unseelie had come...well, you had seen the stock reports. June's family hadn't been caught in the attack personally, but they hadn't escaped unscathed. You extend a hand to June and do your best to smile. "Come on," you say, as he clasps your hand with his own. "Miles to go before we sleep."
Fitness is followed closely by lunch, and then by the closest thing you get to a break – meditation. But even sitting cross-legged in a candlelit room for two hours doesn't offer the rest you crave, because you're forced to spend it repeatedly slamming your head against the scholastic wall that is learning your Heraldry's name.
Ever since it manifested your Heraldry has been with you, simmering under your skin, always eager to burst forth into the physical world in an explosion of light and power. Every time you call it you can hear it speak to you, an insistent whisper that you're never quite able to make out.
"Breathe," your instructor tells you, her tone level and practiced and endlessly irritating. "Focus on the rhythm of your Heraldry." The rumor is that Kumori's younger apprentices who draw the short straw are stuck overseeing meditation, and you can see why that would be – it's a job that seems to consist mostly of repeating the same clichéd platitudes often and loudly enough that the students don't fall asleep. The girl working today seems especially bad at that, considering she hasn't yet noticed June and Alaska have fallen asleep leaning on each other, but perhaps she just doesn't care. You certainly wouldn't blame her.
Even your Heraldry seems annoyed by the exercise. It stalks back and forth within you as if agitated, and every time you try to match yourself to its rhythm you feel the rising urge to leap into the fray, feel iron crack against the strength of your armor, feel flesh part before the sharpness of your sword. The same rage and panic that had subsumed you upon manifestation returns, clawing at your mind, until you wrench yourself free and take a moment to breathe, your heart hammering in your chest.
It is during one of these respites that the instructor finds you. "Having trouble?" She asks taking a seat in front of you. She has tattoos on her cheeks, colorful lines that extend down her neck and vanish under her shirt, only to reappear on her hands.
"I don't think my Heraldry likes sitting around," you admit, still breathing heavily.
The instructor nods slowly. "That can happen," she says. "Some Heraldries are more excitable than others."
"I don't know if I'd call it excitable, exactly. More…" you pause for a long time, trying to find the right word, "murder-y?"
The instructor blinks once, twice. "Breathe," she says finally. "Focus on the rhythm of your Heraldry."
You close out the day with combat training, which is hell in a sparring ring but is so much fun that it's worth it.
In the old days, Knights would fight with archaic melee weapons – swords and axes, staves and hammers – and for tradition's sake you still do a little learning with those. But times have changed, and the current line of thinking amongst the Chivalry's top brass is the modern problems require modern solutions.
The practice guns they give you are designed to be as close to the real thing as possible, but instead of throwing lead at supersonic speeds, they hurl paint. You, June and Alaska spend the hours using your newfound super-athleticism to bound across a specially designed obstacle course, peppering each other with so much paint that by the time the exercise is over all three of you look like modern art exhibits.
Hand to hand is significantly less exciting and more painful. The paint guns aren't really capable of causing you pain through an expressed Heraldry, but the fist of another Knight is a different beast entirely. By the end of the first week, June and Alaska have broken your nose so many times that even your Heraldry-accelerated healing can't get rid of the crookedness, and even when the paint comes off, the sheer number and variety of bruises you bear mean it's hard not to draw the comparison to modern art
In combat, Mac excels…
[] In close quarters
+Melee
+Light Guns (Pistol/SMG)
[] At range
+Heavy Guns (Rifle/Sniper)
+Gunnery (Machine Gun/Grenade Launcher)
- Location
- The End of Glory
[X] At range
[X] In close quarters
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X] In close quarters
SWORDS SWORDS SWORDS SWORDS
SWORDS SWORDS SWORDS SWORDS
JoshieWoshie
Mister Doge
[X] In close quarters
I am uh... getting real worried about the state of this world.