Board: /qst/
"/qst/ - Quests" is 4chan's imageboard for grinding XP.
This board is for author-driven collaborative storytelling (i.e., "Quests"). In a quest there is a single author who controls the plot of the story and who drives the creative process. They can choose to take suggestions from other posters, or not, at their sole discretion. Quests can be text-based, image-based, or a combination of the two. Drawfaggotry is strongly encouraged!
To facilitate the author-driven nature of quests, /qst/ differs significantly from other boards in that the OP of a thread is considered the quest's author, and has some basic text formatting abilities: [b]bold[/b], [i]italic[/i], and color tags [red]red[/red], [green]green[/green], and [blue]blue[/blue]. Therefore, only those people willing to put in the effort to be a quest author should post threads. If you do not intend to run a collaborative story, do not post a thread here! This includes meta-threads.
Dice rolling follows /tg/'s format (e.g., "dice+2d6" without the quotes in the options field rolls 2d6). 
Eight-year anniversary edition.
With the majority of the Seventh Universe united under the banner of the PTO, Emperor Cooler at its head, the universe has known a time of unrivaled peace. But in the shadows threats have been growing, nursing grudges against the PTO and the Saiyan race in particular. And now those threats are rising, stepping out of the shadows to openly challenge the established order. Seeking nothing short of the destruction of New Salda and the extinction of the entire Saiyan race, can you prevent this outcome? Or will the Saiyan race be reduced to nothing more than memories, their heroes nothing more than ink in the pages of the history books?
You the players will (most often) control Karn; wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul and hope of the entire PTO, not only the Saiyan race. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has grown in power and skill, overcoming the world-ending threats that have come for the Saiyans to become the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759. From the massive Covenant empire to demonic incursions, mad cultists to vengeful gods, none have been strong or clever enough to put down Karn for good. But will one man's power be enough to protect everyone from the rising threats? Or will death come from those who you least expect it from? Your choices may mean the difference between survival and extinction, so choose carefully.
Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM
Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice
>One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun
SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tndKYpPz2RU
REVENGE OF THE BODY SNATCHERS >It is April of the 70th year of the Cosmic Era Calendar
>Previous Thread
>>6229634
Frieden Moon, a young man troubled by the catastrophic opening blows of the Bloody Valentines War engaged in an expectedly messy attempt to defect and join the PLANT's ZAFT militia through participating in a shady infiltration mission. Having somewhat attained that goal it remains to be seen what will happen as the war intensifies far away from the PLANT's holds... 
Please enter your account card to log in.
You had been staring at the popup long enough that the main menu's log in music had begun to loop. It was this brief moment of silence that brought you back to the dark room you were sitting in. The only source of light was the LEDs embedded into your full dive setup, not that you could see it with the helmet on your head projecting the menu into your eyes. Had you owned one of the newer models of the system, it might had been a simple visor with tactile gloves for menus outside of VR or perhaps an all in one system/seat with a built in computer. Unfortunately, you could afford neither so you were stuck with a bulky set up that involved you plugging in the peripherals directly to your PC via a series of cables and extra hardware. Even so, your setup was considered archaic by today's standards. Most players' computers would already be full dive capable and even the most novice of PC builders would include the parts for it as baseline for a gaming computer. Your build was just another sign that you were a relic of a bygone era where full dive tech was just going over the tipping point of becoming the new standard for gaming.
Warning: You have been inactive for an extended period. The system will log you out in 120 seconds then shut down.
Your hands tremble and you shuffle a bit. The screen goes temporarily translucent to allow you to see your surroundings as it assumes you're going to slot in the aforementioned account card. You reach for the drawer in your desk to dig it out but stop. It had been 5 years since you touched it. 5 years since you buried it under various odds and ends. Why now? It's location had always weighed on your mind but it had never ate at you like it had in recent days. You let out a heavy sigh and pull the helmet off your head. Upon detecting it's removal, the system projects the menu on to your monitor giving you enough light to see clearly in the dark. Before you can hesitate again, you pull the drawer open and empty it completely on your desk. No chance to back out mid way now. Pens, pencils, an old phone, and various other office supplies litter your workspace until, in an almost dramatic fashion, the gold account card bearing the words "Account#00000020" lands nearly atop the pile.
You gently pick it up as one would an injured friend. The metal was cool, almost cold, to the touch. Running your fingers over the card, you can feel every nick and scratch on it but can also remember exactly how each and every one was earned. Finally your fingers reach the raised, stylized letters spelling "Nevermore". 
The rebels had won, they had taken everything from you, even your precious daughter , She who was blessed with the Ichor of the gods . You were too late to save your precious Seleno in time. Her crystallized soul was entrapped in a body besieged by rot and decay, You have done what you could throughout the last few days but you could not stop the inevitable especially as an usurped king unless...
"Do you wish to free me? A copy of a copy of your kingdom's nightmares?" said the last shard of Frenkesia, the mother of all that was unholy. Only your royal bloodline knew where she was trapped. Your entire body would shiver about her unsightly and mostly featureless face. An blasphemous adoll that should not exist in the first place...
"I seek your forbidden knowledge so I may forge a new body for my daughter. No tricks of mine can sustain her rotting body." you kneeled before her, desperation had bent your knees. You would do anything for Seleno.
"Fool me not, o young king. I know of your forefather's curse. I will be bound to your body, i will not taste true freedom unless you exchange something... dear to you for my services, what will it be, your 'highness' ?"
>My kingdom, ravage it at your will.
>My flesh, you can burrow into it once my daughter can breathe again. I will be your perfect host.
>Wealth beyond measure, with your knowledge, I can make an army of adoll to take over what is rightfully mine
>A steady supply of Ichor. The very blood of the gods courses freely in whatever adall we will fashion together
>No...I will bring ruin it all, you are evil incarnate. I can not set you free. 
You are Kara, High Priestess of the Starlit Grove, handmaiden to Queen Selanwe, and the spiritual voice of your people.
You remember the last Gathering of Lanterns—the shimmer of silver pollen in the air, the laughter of children riding on currents of magic, the low, gentle hum of the fairies as they blessed the winds. That world, your world, is now behind you. The Otherworld, realm of fae and dream, is doomed.
One of your oldest sages saw it: a demon tide rising, swallowing the edges of reality, bleeding through the cracks in the veil. Even the fairies, eternal and radiant, fear it. No magic in your homeland can stop what is coming.
The Queen could not save the land. But she could save a people.
She chose you.
You knew what it meant. All elves do. Without the blessings of the fairies, your bodies will begin to falter. Long will your lives be, still—but they will now have an end. You will age. You will weaken. You will die.
You accepted.
Three great galleys awaited at the far western shore, vessels of living wood and spell-threaded sails. Each carried three hundred elves. Two wave-masters aboard each ship stirred the sea itself, ensuring safe passage even through storm and whirl.
You brought with you:
30 healers, keepers of body and spirit
12 druids, bearers of the last sacred seeds
300 soldiers, trained to row and ready to fight
The rest—craftsmen, poets, hunters, teachers, dreamers, lovers—all volunteers
Elvish travel bread, rich with dreamhoney and sealed in ferncloth, will feed your people for years.
You crossed the threshold of worlds.
Now you stand on the edge of a new land. A mortal coast. A strange forest of broad-leafed giants. The sun rises on alien birdsong. The rivers gleam with silver, and the soil is dark and alive. You see no humans yet. The land is wild, and still.
At night, the stars do not speak to you here. They are distant. Watching. Silent.
You gathered your people beneath those quiet stars. No one wept. One child asked if the fairies would follow. You told him they would not. But something else would follow—what you choose to make of this new life.
It is time to build. 
Past Thread: >>6218592
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Missval
General Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/5hFQZtc3
Character Sheet (New Surprise! Almost full team now): https://pastebin.com/dfGisaC3
Twitter/X account for important announcements, contact and stuff: https://x.com/MissvalQM
Your name is Sora Windcrest. A thief, a murderer, a rascal, a psychopath, etc. You’ve heard it all. And you're damn proud of how famous you’ve gotten.
Oh right, you’re also with the White Fang. Almost forgot. Loyal? Eh, sure, so long as they let you do whatever the fuck you want.
Lately, though, things have been shifting. People are bailing left and right. Something about your branch being “disloyal to its own” or some whiny crap like that. Idiots. If they’re dumb enough to buy Carmine’s lies, then they can rot in a ditch somewhere far away. And if you ever find them again, you'll be more than happy to handle them with an unhealthy dose of ‘hard love’.
Word is, this branch took a heavy hit. The Black Sheep are whispering that it's hanging by a thread. One or two more fuck-ups and it’s toast. And honestly? You don’t give a shit. The only reason you’re still here is the hope that one day, somehow, Adam fucking Taurus notices you and lets you fight by his side. Unrealistic dream? Maybe. Still, worth sticking around for.
…Okay, maybe there’s another reason. That girl Shelly, she’s been looking for a way out since the start. You’ve known that. It’s why you even entertained the idea. Would you actually leave with her? Maybe. Looks like she even got Da Boss T to consider it. That would be treason. And treason? Treason is fun. So you’ll cross that bridge if, and, or when it shows up.
Anyway, poor girl’s in a tough spot. So is Mr. Doggy Ears. She’s been having near-daily meetings with the big shots. You've overheard bits of them now and then. If only they’d let you join one of those calls just to catch a glimpse of that red-haired bastard…
But nah. If you’re gonna get noticed by him, it’ll be on your own terms. You don’t owe anyone shit. Still, the top-dogs (heh, top dogs, get it?) are at least giving Taylor and Birdie a shot to prove they can get their shit together. Maybe it's worth backing them up. For now.
And let’s not ignore the obvious. Headquarters is empty as fuck. Half the crew’s already peaced out. The only ones left are Shelly’s ride-or-dies. Not surprising, since she seems like a trustworthy bitch. No wonder they’re following her around like a damn private squad. Bitch even gets her own crew while you’re stuck solo? You’ll get the secret on how to do so from her one day.
In all honesty, it feels like she’s the one in charge now. Sure, Taylor’s still “the boss,” but he barely leaves his office. Just a title at this point. And also… he’s back on the bottle. Poor son of a bitch.
Whatever. Time to get on with your day.
--- 
You are Kyle Mercer and you are 23 years closer to the grave, God willing. Or… gods willing? Whatever. You take a hit from your clumsily rolled joint, hold the breath, and then exhale it toward the ceiling. You're lying in bed without a stitch of clothing on, covered only by your scars and the Ouroboros tattoo on your chest, the one that matches your sister's.
"Gimme," Candi, your sister, says. She's laying on your chest, her tattoo nearly touching yours, reaching needily for the joint. You give. You can't say no to her.
That's part of the reason why you're both naked, sweaty, and spent, lying in bed together. Morning rays are filtering in through the gauzy curtains over the window. You might need to go to work soon but… you just haven't felt like it. You've been busy with occult shit. Besides, your sister's making good tips on her cam show, especially now that you're helping out.
All in all, it's shaping up to be a good day.
Candi passes the joint back to you and sighs wistfully, laying her head on your chest, golden hair haloed across you. "Why couldn't it have been you who knocked me up instead of Dad?"
Yeah, even you don't really know how to approach that one. What can I say? You two have a special relationship.
XXX
Nemesis Quest follows an evil man hurting himself and those around him out of malice, lust, and inhuman cruelty. Do not attempt.
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=NEMESIS+Quest
I aim to update on weekdays around 4:00 PM UTC. I will update more often if there's a clear consensus or I have the time. 
It is beautiful. You never had a thing for gems, but this one you cannot look away from. In part because you see it whether your eyes are closed or open, true, but also from how eye-grabbing it is. It was so small, if not for the way it shone, you would have never picked it out before it flew at you.
It looks like a ruby, if a ruby had an inner glow to it, and looked as if it couldn't decide how it wanted to be cut from one second to the next.
This strangeness is amost enough to distract you from what has happened. They'd started it. It wasn't your fault. But now they are dead, and next thing you know that stone flew at you, straight through you actually. Your clothes are intact, you felt nothing but a splash of heat on your chest, but when you turned around it wasn't there, and now here it sits in your vision, like the sun's afterimage. And you suddenly know more than you did a scant few minutes ago.
This. Is a bloodstone. It forms inside a person when they kill another. When killed in turn, they...turn on? Activate? Awaken? Come alive? It's hard to say, you're parsing thoughts that don't feel like your own. Point is, something very rare has happened to you, perhaps the only good thing about this mess you find yourself in.
More informations spontaneously flows into your mind, as if your brain had known all along and was helpfully volunteering a memory. But you know that to be false. You skip most of it as one part jumps out at you, barely needing translation. Power. Strength, health, all that you desire. This stone can give it, but it can do better. Let you home in on others. Inside other people. You could take them. They are murderers. But so are you.
You could ignore it. Even as you think that the vision of the stone fades, but the thoughts linger. You could be more. This...this is what you wanted, isn't it? This is destiny. You can reach for it, or let fate consume you.
You must choose.
But you must first choose...You.
WHO?
ARE?
YOU?
what's up guys, miharu here 
It is essentially the same premise as After the Fall, but in another setting. Some questions answered after the opening posts.
Yours is a proud nation. Your people hail from the northern forests - in these dark and forgotten places, you have made history, rising to prominence in the time of the Great Migration ages ago to dismantle the old Regian Empire and forge those of your own.
They were not to last. As feudal lords strengthened their grip, so did the kings loosen theirs. For centuries, you engaged in internecine wars amongst yourselves while the powers of Arqa and the Far East dominated the globe. It was not until the previous century, hundreds of years later, that your nation restored its unity as the new empire of Londo.
You tried to claim your place in the sun, obtaining colonies and engaging in conflicts around the world, but when it all culminated in the First Great War, you were defeated, your glorious empire dismantled in favour of a corrupt, defunct republic.
But this was not the end, not yet. An ambitious man, Herman Hertz, rose to power in the beginning of the 1930's to revive the nation. His National Socialist party brought restoration and order in a short time - at the cost of freedoms, some would say... The old faith, thrown away ages ago in favour of Sol, the Sun God, was revived, and many soon became adherents of Rezel, the old gods.
The failures of your previous leaders were blamed on the treacherous Magach - those greedy bankers and businessmen gathering all the wealth for their own perverse pleasure. Whether this was true or not, it was the enemy you needed to band back together.
Once again, your nation rose to prominence, and with the new Regians and Tremon on your side, tried to claim enough land for all your people to live safely and prosper.
But the Acorians, Albians and Ercolians once again claimed victory over you, now joined by the Morzet, those eastern barbarians with no true claim to their land.
It is 1945 now, and with Londo on the brink of defeat once again, you have been chosen by Herman Hertz, the Fuhrer himself, to lead one of the groups meant to hide in the remote reaches of the world, research new technologies - Wunderwaffen of power yet unseen - and strike once again when the time is right, claiming your place in the sun at last.
You have served your country well both in the time of the Empire and under the Fuhrer's command. However, you are getting old now, and even with your belief in the Cause, you know more than anyone when risks are to be taken and when they should be avoided.
Still, you will do your best in this final service to the nation of Lond.
What is your name?
>Write-in (something German-sounding is preferable)
(1/4) 
The undercity of Dresh’Vol is silent now, but you can still hear the echoes of your disgrace ringing between its carved obsidian walls. You were never meant to leave. No dark elf is. Surface exile is a sentence worse than death—a promise of slow humiliation beneath the burning sun and the contempt of your own kind. And yet, here you are, stripped of rank, wreathed in shame, and cast out of your people’s subterranean empire.
It wasn’t murder. It wasn’t even intentional. You were just a student, barely through your third circle of arcane study, when the spell misfired during the dueling trials. A spiraling weave of uncontrolled energy, wild and unpredictable, ripped through the favored slave of Matron Qelvra herself. The boy turned to ash with a scream that has haunted your sleep ever since.
Normally, House incidents like this are smoothed over with coin and custom, but your family—rich in gold but bankrupt in courage—refused to pay the reparation fine. They said it was politics. They said making enemies of Matron Qelvra was bad for business. And you? You were the convenient scapegoat.
Now, you're banished. You wear a collar inscribed with your debt, magically sealed, binding you to ten years of exile or until you can pay the matron’s blood-price. Your magic remains, but your resources are scant. The surface awaits—with its wild forests, burning skies, and eyes that don’t blink in darkness.
Your house didn't even trust you to survive alone. They sent someone with you.
A shadow moves behind you. You don’t need to look to know they’re still there. Watching. Waiting.
Before you depart, you must choose the tools you'll carry into this hostile world. You may select two spells to bring with you. Or choose only one spell… and accept the company of the guardian your house insisted you take.
> Flame Lash (Red) – A whip of fire that sears enemies and can ignite flammable objects. Useful for combat and survival alike.
> Vine Grasp (Green) – Animate the vegetation around you to entangle enemies or create climbing supports. Works even on dry plant matter.
> Mystic Ward (White) – A basic protection spell that deflects minor physical and magical harm for a brief time.
> Ghost Bolt (Blue) – A shimmering projectile that passes through walls and strikes targets behind cover. Can also be used to trigger distant mechanisms.
> Shadow Leech (Black) – A curse that saps strength from a foe and transfers it to you. Weakens enemies, strengthens you.
> House’s Hand – Know only one spell of your choice, but take with you a loyal guardian: Velas, a male drow blade-dancer, trained since childhood to serve your house’s elite. Cold, quiet, and fiercely capable, he was sent with you "for your protection." But you know he reports back to your mother.
> Write in 
About half a year ago, the world changed forever.
Individuals worldwide began manifesting the qualities of various figures- gods, spirits, heroes, beasts, and monsters- from Greek mythos. The system that caused and continues to facilitate this phenomenon is shrouded in mystery, both in how it functions and why it began its activities when it did.
The protagonist of this tale is the incarnation of Atë, a minor goddess in the grand scheme of Greek mythology, who causes and presides over folly and ruin. She, formerly a miserable but ultimately normal office worker, has since accepted her role as the embodiment of her . She, along with her partner in crime, the incarnation of Pheme, titan of rumors and gossip, have been working to expand their influence and stack the deck in their favor against not only mortals, but also rival incarnations. In her own eyes, she is no longer human. Her ultimate goal– the elimination of all rival incarnations and, eventually, ascension to true godhood.
After learning that the final conflict against the outerversal entity known to the world as the Uncrowned King, Atë has been of two minds, both scrambling to prepare for armageddon in their own ways. While one part of her soul revels in her cunning and guile after fooling and consuming the greatest weapon known to man, the other is stricken with an uncharacteristic sentimentality. Regardless of whether or not she's ready, what might be the end of everything inexorably approaches. In a universe where an ancient alien network connects the cosmos, Earth is caught in the spiderweb. You are a covert, clandestine force, operating in the shadows of the Stargate program: the NID. Misunderstood, mistrusted, and maligned, you are the last line of defense against alien threats. But time is running out. Hamstrung by bureaucratic red tape, internal leaks, and the maddening incompetence of a system that doesn’t grasp the stakes, you are racing against the clock to uncover a sinister Goa’uld plot threatening humanity’s total and final enslavement. Covert missions, high-stakes gambles, and moral dilemmas collide in Stargate: NID, a thrilling new series where the good guys don’t wear capes—they walk the shadows. Will you outsmart the enemy and the chair force before it’s too late? Tune in this summer to find out—Stargate: NID, ONLY on /qst/!
>Setting Details & Canon Changes:
https://pastebin.com/prNY5QMz ![The World Underneath[sound=files.catbox.moe%2Fihgzi2.mp3]](https://i.4cdn.org/qst/1748492129975068s.jpg)
You are L2S Trollslayer Fiona Jarnafeldt, and you have so many better things to do with your time. At least, such you thought as you rode down the elevator to the most secretive corner of the Helsinki Stormwatch, a deep underground coven of researchers and inventors known as the Undercroft.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q2nLBExFcPU
You have so many better things you could be spending your time with right now. For example, you were injured in a fight earlier today against a giant living breathing tree that was a rogue member of a seclusive cabal of researchers and exmilitary brandishing a shotgun with an axe bit strapped to it, and you still powered through and chopped its head off. Your mother has just returned from a wild and outrageous journey around the north pole for the last twenty years, and has finally returned. Tomorrow you'll have a mission to rescue some people from cannibals in the stormdrains under Helsinki and you need some sleep. There's a great number of reasons you should be in bed.
But now, that very same day as all of these things occurred, Katriina Jousten, the Stormwatch Director and woman who was shot and savagely mauled by the tree from earlier, has decided it was time to orchestrate some bullshit tests based on whatever tech she has cooked up.
And you can't even complain about it, because with you is your fellow Stormwatch agent L2 Manhunter Saemus Fahy. an Irish guy who has zero concept that you, Katriina, and several others were fighting a rogue government agent that's coincidentally a fucking tree. You can't spill the beans, and neither can she. Talking around the cause of both of your injuries is going to be annoying.
But Katriina should be resting too. She was injured, grievously injured, and she has decided to run some tests late into the evening? What's gotten into her?
Perhaps she is hurt more than just physically. ‘The Courier, in all his might, has shown he can create a mighty nation from scratch! He has cast out the Crimson Caravan, outmaneuvered the politicians sent by the NCR and drove the last organized raider resistance from the Mojave!
But he’s not blind to the common man, having partnered with a Brahmin Baron to bring food to the hungry and set out to employ the denizens of Freeside through the Revised Mojave Rehabilitation Program. Even the impossible becomes possible through his will, saving Mr. House from certain death and exploring the mysterious Lucky 38 to unlock its secrets.
Now, he departs for the biggest gamble of his rule so far by heading deep into Legion land to heal the Mighty Caesar. Or perhaps the unpredictable Courier Six will once again play the wildcard.’ 
The pink petals fall to the concrete off the trees from where they came that hold themselves up high towards the sky above. Indeed this land is protected by very powerful, and reputable spirits such is the way of any proud nation. The bustling streets of Hiroyuki town are held with a high regard to the nation of Japan, such a township is responsible for providing some of the world's strongest martial artists. Those of whom have gone on to win world championship martial arts tournaments, or have settled down in their home area to become humble teachers, monks, and other sorts of occupations.
Indeed, this land is reputable for the strength of it's fighters that it seems to constantly produce. There is one such filter in this land that turns boys and girls, into men and women however.
強力な守護者! Or as it's known to foreigners worldwide, POWERFUL GUARDIAN HIGH! It is the sole landmark of this esteemed village that separates the lions from the cattle. Appearing as just an ordinary high school on the surface, it's deep underground in it's infamous fighting arena that students compete to be crowned 'The Ultimate Power' of their class. Many brutal and prolonged battles have occurred in this ring, the very name alone sends the uninitiated into shivers upon hearing it.
You are an exchange student coming from the bustling city of Tokyo, your father, a salaryman, was moved to this humble town and charged with the leadership role by the company he works for to help develop their new HQ here.
As your father drives yourself, and your mother through the quiet streets of your new home, you think upon your own character. Who you were back home has no meaning to you anymore, you have begun blossoming into a teenager as of late and are beginning to find old things you once held likeness to no longer appeal to you anymore. It has left you thinking.. just who are you?
>Your name
>Your gender Alright, Anon, you're a noble with a degree in administrative law and a mage specialized in vitreomancy - the art of glass control. Your name is (enter name). You and your troop were sent from the old continent to a small colonial port town of 50 inhabitants.
Next, I'll introduce your four advisors and draw dices for the nearby regions. Or would it be better if I let all vote for land surroundings? 
This world is burned, scorched to ash in the fire of a cataclysm so destructive that the destruction it wrought is layered into the creation stories of irradiated tribals huddled around campfires. Few are alive, alive in the biological sense that is, who are even aware of that once upon a time green paradise who's ashes blow in the rust flecked wind. The carcasses of ancient terraforming jut half buried from the shifting dunes of the Scorch like the exposed bones of ancient leviathans. The skeletal remains of the once thriving megacities are silent save for the howling wind and the bowls of mutants driven insane by the tumors crawling through the black matter of their brains. Scuttling machines, semi sentient and feral, prowl the wastes, following the synthetic instincts imprinted upon them in centuries past. Whispers of machine intelligences drift in the wind, carried on radio and electromagnetic waves that crackle and hiss in the radiation laced air, buzzing through jury rigged comm relays and sending a shiver down the spines of superstitious scrappers. Tech Nomads ply the endless deserts of the Salt Wastes, scouring any and everything for salvage to repair their precious Clan Walkers, shamanistic trinkets dangling from the metallic hides of multi legged walkers housing entire clans. Tech Hunters carve and raze and burn, slashing away the weakness of their flesh and grafting stolen metal to a chorus of barbaric chants while empty eyed slaves break their backs in mining pits that send rad-counters into screaming fits of despair.
This world is dead but yet somehow it still lives. The seas may have boiled away into brine sludge, the forests may have been reduced to endless plains of charcoal, the flora and fauna may have been warped and twisted into nightmare versions of evolutions original idea but the world still lives. Humanity still lives.
Humanity gave self immolation its best shot but somehow crawled through the inferno to emerge into the Wasteland blinking at a world that was forever, irreparably changed. This world is harsh. It is cruel. Every day a thousand stories are cut short in heaving, slashing melees, in desperate skirmishes in the bowels of forgotten manufactorums, in sickbeds that stink of clotted blood and filth. This world tests those who burned its hide raw and blotted out the very sun with ash of apocalyptic fire but every day there are those who pass the tests. Those who drag themselves from ruin and death and carve out a new story in the sands of the Wasteland.
Will you?
>Cont 
~ APRIL 30 2012 ~
Your name is Aspen James Foster. For the past 98 days, you have been the President of the United States. It is not a fair world. If it were, you wouldn’t be sitting in the Oval at all. Your largest concerns would be about funding for whichever national parks are not receiving enough tourists. But it’s not a fair world. Just a few bombs in the Capitol building promoted you from a nobody Secretary of the Interior to the most powerful man in the free world. Now your priorities are keeping the country running, managing a half-empty Congress, handling multiple constitutional controversies and (most notably) fighting a war against the organization that caused this turmoil. All of this while trying to secure a full term in the White House in your own right.
You are currently on a flight to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. There you will make your case to bring more nation states on to join the coalition against this terrorist group.
“Bobby, was it?”
“Huh? Oh, uh…yes, Mr. President.”
“Please, just Foster.”
You gesture to your assistant. Well, one of your assistants. He’s a new member of your staff, and that’s about all you know.
“We’re about to land. Can you give me a recap on the situation?”
“I can, sir- Sorry, I mean Foster.”
Bobby places the binder in his hand onto your desk, flipping through the pages.
“On January 24th 2012, the terrorist group Mujahideen for the Sake of God—MFSA for short detonated a series of specifically placed bombs in the Capitol building. The operation was orchestrated by the head of the MFSA, Rajab al-Hai. al-Hai utilized insider c-”
You raise your hand for Bobby to stop.
“Alright, I know all this. What’s next?”
“Uhm…right, yeah. Let’s see…”
The kid flips through the pages in his binder. You sigh.
“Ah! Okay, here we are. Ever since Operation Judgement Day had begun—that’s the name of the war, by the way.”
You rub your temple, ducking your face down into your lap. Does this kid not realize that you’re the one who made that name? Hell, does he not realize you’re the one that was involved in a lot of these developments? You think to yourself while the boy continues rambling that this should be obvious.
“Ever since Operation Judgement Day, the MFSA has been making extreme gains in Iraq to the point that the Iraqi government has all but collapsed, leaving them to fill the vacuum. Currently, our coalition consists of NATO and Saudi Arabia, and now we’re-”
You raise your hand to stop him again.
“Just…just tell me who’s all attending.”
“R-Right.”
Bobby flips through the binders. A drop of sweat trickles down his forehead.
“Aside from the heads of state from Turkey and Saudi Arabia, both of whom are already allied with us in this conflict, six other nation’s representatives will be attending. The list is as follows: Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Syria, Kuwait and Iran.”
(1/2) 
‘Patmo-Shoka’.
That was what the facility was called, once. That was long ago though: before the War of Elves and Dragons; before the dawn of Man…
Certainly before the advent of the races of Dwarf, Gnome, or Halfling, who were born there.
In the aeons of conflict since, the facility was lost and forgotten, becoming simply one more hillock among the many such sch hills which rise up from the Steelwood region and roll, like ocean waves, into the so-called Orcwilds of the far northeast. For centuries, maybe millennia, it sat dormant, save for the mechanical and repetitious movements of it magically-animated, mindless maintenance staff: the last remnants of the mysterious race which predated and produced those Little Folk of the world above.
And then, the Ettercap found it. That Unseelie Fey renegade, rebel against her creators, took shelter in the buried pyramid of Patmo-Shoka, and there discovered ‘the forge’: a magical device of great size and power, which could be used to reshape a living creature’s mind and body. In her deranged loneliness, the dark fairy did just that, but not to fix her own twisted form; rather, she kidnapped the children of the neighbouring Men, Elves, and Orcs, to create a family she could otherwise never have, in the form of a horde of purple-skinned and arachnid-faced monsters and a grove of horticultural horrors.
And then you—both of you—found her. Together with your ‘Monstrous Regiment’ of fellow adventurers, who invade the Unseelie’s stronghold, freed its long-sleeping defenders, slaughtered the deformed fairy ‘foundlings’, and captured Patmo-Shoka for your own. The sun just barely shines through the thickness of the sheets, draped across your bedroom windows. It's bright enough to still get a stir out of you though. You wake up, wiping your tired looking, black rimmed eyes. Another all-nighter again, huh? Who are you kidding, most nights are.
When you think back on everything, your life that is. You have trouble placing where it may have gone all wrong. Where, and how did you fuck everything up so bad? You try, and try, to get an idea. That's when it finally hits you.
>It's just kind of always been this way for me.
>I did a horribly embarrassing thing a long time ago, my reputation hasn't recovered since.
>I committed a serious crime. I spent a long time in jail, things are very different now that you're out.
>Other (write in) 
Welcome to /qtg/, a place to talk about quests.
Previous thread
>>6213393
>What is a quest?
An interactive story in which a Quest Master (QM) writes and provides the readers with options on how to proceed — similar to a choose-your-own-adventure book or an old text adventure
Questionably Useful links:
>QTG discord: https://discord.gg/dZavHuK
>Skirmish discord: https://discord.com/invite/DZCVvVU
>Evo Game discord: https://discord.gg/v55Xaaja
>Old pastebin containing advice for QMs:
https://pastebin.com/Z78p8gXf
Badly in need of renovation.
>Archiving guide:
Go to http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/requestqstinterface.html
Fill out the request form to archive a thread.
Threads are also automatically archived by other websites, such as archived.moe.
>Formatting guide:
Only the thread's OP can format. Note that should the OP change ID, they will lose this ability as well.
Remove the spaces between the [] brackets and the letters:
Bold: [ b ] text [ /b ]
Italics: [ i ] text [ /i ]
Red: [ red ] text [ /red ]
Blue: [ blue ] text [ /blue ]
Green: [ green] text [ /green ]
>Formatting guide for everyone:
Dice (type this in “options”): dice + [no. of dice]d[no. of sides on the dice] (optionally you can add modifiers: dice + [no. of dice]d[no. of sides on the dice]+[modifier]; for a negative modifier type: +-[modifier]
Examples: dice+1d100 = a 1d100 roll, dice+1d100+10 = a 1d100 roll with a +10 modifier.
Spoiler: [ spoiler ]spoiler[ /spoiler ] or by pressing alt+s in-thread (doesn't work in OP)
>QM question:
What are some inspirations for your quests? Both quests and non-quests.
>Player question:
Pitch a quest, be it one you want to run or one you want to see run but don't have the time/confidence to run (if it's the latter then just run it, it can't hurt). If you don't have an idea for a full quest, then how would you change one you've read/are reading?
>General question:
What did you do during 4chan's downtime? Did you go to another site to get your questing fix or just wait it out? Have you expanded your quest reading to other sites since, or are you /qst/ only?
>Lurker question:
Do you feel more or less confident to post now, after all the dirty laundry has been aired out and the timer decreased? You should still vote btw, unless you're posting from a mobile IP or something and have an excuse.
>Miscellaneous question:
What other boards do you frequent? What boards (besides /qst/) do you wish had more traffic? If you could make a board, what would it be? -Welcome to Slasherquest!-
Orchestrate horrors untold in the first movie of the "Slasherquest" boxset. Who will make it out alive, and in how many pieces?
In the sprawling woods of Darney County lie many creepy places. An abandoned bunker, a quiet old manor and even a decrepit cabin with a sordid history... and on this fateful weekend in June, a group of clueless fools are planning to throw an all-out, booze-heavy party in one of them.
(Choose your cast size!)
>Indie Flick (5 Victims)
>Mid-budget Slasher (8 Victims)
>Jam-packed Terror (12 Victims)
>Extra Long Credits (20 Victims) 
It has been 100 years since ancient beings, known as the Old Ones, walked the Earth with their two strong feet. Now they are gone and we animals now rule the remains that they left behind. With our new knowledge of sword and sorcery, we were able to survive in peace for a while, but then came the three factions.
The Apes: Strong giants, claiming to be as just as the old ones and believe they should be the ones to rule over the new world.
The Pigs: An intellectual but slothful group who wish to rule the world with an iron hoof and remain kings while the others remained as dumb animals.
Then there the Lizards: A fast and large group that want to set the world a blaze. Trying to forget the harsh past that the old ones left.
All three sides wishing to go war and destroy one another to bring in what they believe to be true peace.
But, unbeknownst to everyone, there was another group. One that was trying their best to find a way to heal everyone. To bring back order.
You found it.... and now you are taking care of it.
A D&D Homebrew Adventure.
Previous Quests:https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Rise%20of%20the%20Awakened Welcome to /synth/etic roleplaying.
> Rolls are [ON]
Doubles:
- describe next scenario
- modify a character
- create a character
- replace character in the party
Trips:
- change roleplaying system (currently D&D 5e)
Anyone can:
- ask a character a question
just start your reply with their name:
> "Adeline, under whom did you train to become a Fae-bane Ranger..."
- request to view a character's sheet
> ...Loading Scenario...
> ... No scenario detected... Generating Scenario #001...
> Scenario #001 ---
>> Current Party: Tarnok Doomgut, Brother Myrrh, Caspian Vell, Elaris...
>> Current System: D&D 5e
> BEGIN Scenario... 
The heist has officially begun! With your chef cover on (Not Johnnini), you infiltrated the home of the Ace of the Five Titans, and had to prove your culinary skills under the vigilant eye of Chef Haytham Gerges. With no room for failure, you went all out and baked the Lonely Lady’s Heart Melter to impress! After boasting about its magical properties, the other chef wanted to see it in play — with the leftovers in hand, you fed it to the *actual* Main Chef of the kitchen: Ms. Kushi.
Despite being a reasonable expectation, Ms. Kushi surprised you by confessing her physical attraction towards you! Very inappropriate for a first meeting, you’d say. But it’s only the two of you in this guest room…
...And the suspiciously locked closet (with chains AND paper seals!). What’s in there? You need to know! Maybe it’s the Scroll you came looking for!
Anyway, another woman has fallen for your questionable charms. Support is going wild with suggestions on how to proceed, the one thing they agree with is that you gotta act with delicacy!
“W-Was I too forthcoming? With the clarity your dessert spoke into my soul, I don’t believe I said anything outlandish…” Main Chef Kushi wants to hear you out.
“Actually, you haven’t given me room to say anything.” You say.
“I’m all ears, Esteemed Chef Noon. I will not say one more word unless it is necessary.” Kushi obediently stays put. Or she does the facade of compliance, she has other motives to be seen as friendly…
“Mr. Noon, movement is sparse in the house. You won’t be in danger if you proceed with caution.” Vortexia reads the situation through your and Crossbill’s active intel. Basically, you can take your time here if needed.
“Phil, whatever you do. DO NOT ENGAGE with her in any way. She’s nuts!” Vera is as useless as she is pretty.
“Please, be gentle if you turn her down…” Vortexia sounds like someone broke her heart before.
“Do what you must to investigate the room! Got a feelin’ a key is around.” Crossbill can’t help but think about the mysterious closet. Vortexia relayed your bestie’s message verbatim. She’s quite skillful at mimicking voices...
What do you do?
>“Esteemed Chef Kushi, you’re feverish and need to rest. I’ll forget this ever happened.” Give Kushi some medicine lying around, and disengage.
>“Inappropriate question or not, I find you cute. Where are you going with this?” Play along and assess Kushi’s loyalties.
>“There’s a van near this address, wait for me for a couple of hours there…” Let Support handle this one.
>Write In. 
With the majority of the Seventh Universe united under the banner of the PTO, Emperor Cooler at its head, the universe has known a time of unrivaled peace. But in the shadows threats have been growing, nursing grudges against the PTO and the Saiyan race in particular. And now those threats are rising, stepping out of the shadows to openly challenge the established order. Seeking nothing short of the destruction of New Salda and the extinction of the entire Saiyan race, can you prevent this outcome? Or will the Saiyan race be reduced to nothing more than memories, their heroes nothing more than ink in the pages of the history books?
You the players will (most often) control Karn; wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul and hope of the entire PTO, not only the Saiyan race. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has grown in power and skill, overcoming the world-ending threats that have come for the Saiyans to become the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759. From the massive Covenant empire to demonic incursions, mad cultists to vengeful gods, none have been strong or clever enough to put down Karn for good. But will one man's power be enough to protect everyone from the rising threats? Or will death come from those who you least expect it from? Your choices may mean the difference between survival and extinction, so choose carefully.
Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM
Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice
>One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun
SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tndKYpPz2RU
REVENGE OF THE BODY SNATCHERS 
It has been 7 years since the end of the One Year War, and an era of relative pass has come and gone as the smoldets of war are slowly returning to full hearted flames. The brutality and terror of the organization known as the Titans have failed to cow the growing resentment of the Spacenoids, only inflating their desire for independence from their tyranny and the Federations apathy.
This has lead to the formation of the AEUG, or the Anti-Earth Union Group in opposition to the Titans with the goal of defeating them and reforming the Earth Federation government. Supported by the Moon, several wealthy politicians and businessmen, along with the all too critical support of the Spacenoids. They go about gathering pilots from the colonies as they develop new mobile suits in preparation for the day they enter open hostilities with the Titans, an eventuality if they ever had the will to achieve their goals.
It is in an black operation that would see your destiny changed forever. But an ordinary teenager, we must determine your place in this altered reality, and the powers you now possess.
>You are an Newtype: But how strong?
- Weak(Unable to use Psycommu)
- Average(Standard ordinary Newtype)
- Strong(Char/Amuro Tier)
- Powerful(Kamille/Judo Tier)
>Your place in this new world?
- Who's Kamille? (You replace Kamille, taking his life and place in the setting)
- My Best Friend Has A Girl's Name(You are born as an ordinary teenager, and the childhood best friend of Kamille alongside Fa.) You are a Cutémon!
You are one of the rarest types of mon: a mon that looks like a cute human girl!
Like all mons, you gain energy by fighting and defeating other mons. Your trainer is the human Professor Plumtree. 
The world has another side, one with secret societies and hidden powers vying for control. But it is not merely humans, nay. For millennia, creatures which a modern man considers fables have been battling in the shadows, both within their own, and others.
Only the Magical Girls can slay the demons of humanity's suffering, and clean up the supernatural messes along the way!
Following next, a newly minted magical girl has to prove herself.
- - - - -
(Previously On)
Our nameless heroine went clubbing, the experience was electrifying, perhaps overly so. One broken window later and a chase through the city with an unknown pursuer. Our heroine was, in the end, protected by a chance encounter with a magical girl and her good ‘friends’.
A choice was offered, and she accepted. Delving deep into her own soul and meeting a mysterious Broker, one known as Sugar. With Sugar’s help, she unlocked her inner powers, crystallizing her soul and becoming Magical Girl SugarRush!
Now, alongside her magical girl sisters, SugarRush is in the midst of her first transformation. Right before they delve into the storm drain tunnels and slay any manifestation of suffering which lies inside.
- - - - -
Light shines all around you, your hands linked with the Leader and Shadow, Jacky across from you.
All are warped, in a way, Leader bound in a silver, Shadow consumed by flame, and Jacky shattered into reflections.
But what of you? Sugar? One ever chasing? Grasping for stars in the sky?
You feel a warmth wrap around you from behind, like a blanket giving you a loving hug. Your lungs take in a breath, and the strong, yet not overpowering smell of confectionary.
The hug wraps further, around your chest, down your limbs, but you feel no discomfort, only the slightest hint of ever present longing. Even as the hug becomes tighter, and static plays across your skin, you can’t bring yourself to panic.
The tension builds amidst the whole group, your hands still held tight, but all look different. Shadow’s arms covered in wave of soot, hands cracked like broken charcoal, and from her palm, you feel spark of heat, one which is reflected deep in her eyes, while the rest of her form remains clothes in a pristine white dress.
Leader’s form, you saw before, but seeing her transform makes it seem much different. A tight silver lace wrapping around her flesh, binding more than tight, the flesh looks choked, but her face is a mask of calm.
Jacky was the most violent. Like a shattered mirror she broke, hands barely fragments hanging on, her flesh a cloud of shards with her crystallized soul in the middle. And on the soul, shard by shard, a form was build, a form… exactly like the one she wore before.
(1/3) 
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Tuffle%20Quest
>You are Son Peppa, Son Gohan, and Izumi Mahogany, children of Earth’s heroes, Maple, Goku, Acer, and Chi-chi
>“Canon” has taken a radical shift from the series’ norm, you’re just one part of it, and things could go even further off the rails from here
>Mechanics and character details in the pastebins here:
Peppa: https://pastebin.com/zKv0PE9j
Gohan: https://pastebin.com/vS8REJGp
Izumi: https://pastebin.com/wiKgqAi5
>Let’s all try to have some fun, ok?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sj5PGIqnaFs
Last time, on Dragon Ball Tuffle Quest Kai!
Izumi’s group led the charge against the Archons lording over Universe 8 with an iron fist, finally taking on their leader Yalbadoth. After an intense battle, and briefly managing to harness the power of Destruction by having the Sword of Braves accept its darkness, Izzy and son of the tyrant, Ryuno, delivered the final blow brought him down! With the matters settled and Chiaotzu ready to return home, an invitation was also given to Hearts to come with them, though as he still had some mess to clean up, he had to take a rain check on that idea.
Over with Peppa, her team worked with Beelzebub in infiltrating Majin Ozotto’s palace to rescue not just Tien, but many other demons that had been apprehended for failing to show enough loyalty to the resurgent Dabura. Peppa and Shun Shun manage to pull off the rescue operation as others draw away the Demon Realm’s forces, with Peppa further uncovering, and promptly ruining, Ozotto’s stolen Hakkero. With Tien and the others rescued, Peppa’s group also helped train up Beelzebub’s gang a bit for any future fights against Dabura and Towa.
Finally, Gohan’s group got assistance from the Time Patrol, seeking out not just the Supreme Kai, but also other displaced figures from a devastated and near-barren timeline, namely a boy cursed by a fox spirit named Kajika and an unknown Saiyan girl. Finding Shin and Kajika already working together in Hell, Gohan is able to win a rock-off against a bunch of Demons seeking shards of Janemba, allowing the Muramasa to absorb them to gain new power. After an encounter with an Android made in the image of Bulma’s son, Gohan’s group then faced off with the reptilian Demon Alizarin for another Janemba shard (and an ominous Dragon Ball) and finally a warrior made of Slime monsters and Janemba’s shards declaring itself “Nemesis,” with the Android Null dealing the final blow against the latter.
What awaits our heroes next in this grand finale of Dragon Ball Tuffle Quest Kai?! Good luck, Gohan! Good luck, Izzy! Good luck, Peppa! 
Your name is Anon Hardwood, a 20-something year old man. Well, at least you used to be. You went to bed a human. You woke up a MONSTER. Well fuck.
Thankfully, you don't seem to be feeling the urge to kill humans or similar horrible shit- though that might be because you haven't seen a human yet, you've just kind of been panicking in your apartment for the last few minutes.
Whatever caused this transformation is total bullshit.
>It is totally normal to think about and fear death! We've got monsters! Just because you took care of yourself, made sure to do regular appointments with the doctor to the point he sighs when he sees you, plan for your body to be put in front of a TV in case you just get stuck in your body when you die, and spent the last eight months desperately poring over religious texts so that you don't end up in hell, doesn't mean you're obsessed! It's normal! It's normal! Just because you tried a shady ritual from a questionable site that involved eating some weird meat to help you become healthier doesn't mean anything!
Grim Reaper
+Tanky as hell
+Natural-born aura farmer
-you are, at your core, a coward who fears death
>Sure, you don't know anyone else who loves this guy as much as you do, and you might have gotten yourself banned from the Devolution forums for yelling at the Dev for making Yakon blow up so easily, and you might have scared everyone into migrating into a whole new forum when your tore that shithead who unironically thought that the fucking pirate robot deserved an UR in Dokkan more than Yakon, but did you seriously fucking monsterize cause you finally built your awesome cosplay of the best minor villain of dragon ball Z, Yakon, the light devouring Terror from Dark Star, and decided to take a quick snooze before taking it off!?
Yakon
+fast as fuck boi
+I eat your energy blasts for lunch
-Yakon died a goon for a greater threat, fate conspires to drive you into the same position.
>This is ridiculous! You wanted to be a hero! You've always wanted to kill those pieces of shit that prey on the weak and make society worse! Actually, since you still want to be a hero, those monsters are even worse than you thought before! and If you really think about it, aren't the humans that do so worse than the real monsters!? They're still humans, yet are just as bad as the monsters, but we're supposed to be merciful just because they are a human!?None of these scumbags don't deserve any amount of leniency! You're going to rip them all apart and make sure no one remembers them as anything more than a piece of trash that died screaming, a warning to scum!
False Hero
+Incredible willpower
+Very convincing non-monster appearance
-Incredible bloodlust against both monsters and "bad" humans
>write in, provide some sort of picture and motivation. ![PEACEKEEPER [sound=https%3A%2F%2Ffiles.catbox.moe%2Feq0l61.mp3]](https://i.4cdn.org/qst/1747510775964316s.jpg)
LAST TIME ON PEACEKEEPER: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6198317/
The cinders of Arkanar's civil war were never truly frozen, they smoldered beneath a treaty paper sealed with blood. Now stoked by radical ideals, political ambitions, and old grudges, the flames of war blaze anew.
For years, the northern Free Republic covertly rallied armies and amassed resources in preparation for a war that could span generations. This was no desperate rebellion of defiant guerrillas from decades past, but a well-organized military campaign that will unify the fractured land of Arkanar and purge the existence of the Imperial State to the south.
The Imperial military, having grown complacent after their previous victories over the Free Republic and the years of peace that followed, have been caught unprepared. Spread thin over the demarcation line, the Imperials struggle to mount a coherent defense against the northern invasion. For every piece of land lost, their morale is chipped away, turning past triumphs into distant memories.
To prevent a wider regional collapse, the IUN has called for intervention through the deployment of an Osean and Erusean-led multinational task force, to assist the Imperial State of Arkanar in achieving a swift end to the war with the hopes of containing the conflict from spilling beyond Arkanar's borders before it can become a continental catastrophe.
You are Captain Adele "Chaos" Farrington, a Erusean Navy pilot and veteran of the Lighthouse War. Stationed aboard the IUN Peacekeeping Force submersible aviation cruiser OFS *Nautilus*, you serve as the flight lead of its premier fighter unit, the Fairy Squadron.
The skies await for your sortie, Fairy 1. 
4chanik Quest Adventure is a chat-turn-based Dungeon crawler and open world adventure quest simulator that's similar to D&D and other games. Each board post can be a different world but ultimately revolves around some sort chat-turn-based experience.
How to Play:
Anyone can play 4chanik. Always reply with your Character Sheet and the specific image that relates to your current adventure. Any player can start. Simply reply to any previous image and message and begin there.
Death:
Players can restart anytime after death. Simply reply to which image you want to start from.
Post your Character Sheet like this:
(Name)
> STR: _
> AGI: _
> WILL: _
> TOUGH: _
> HP: _
> Weapon: (choose 1 type)
> Armor:
> Item:
> Coins: 0
> [2-sentence backstory]
---
You have 6 stat points total to spend across:
Strength (STR): Boosts melee attack rolls.
Agility (AGI): Boosts dodge rolls and ranged attack rolls.
Willpower (WILL): Boosts magic damage (wands/spells).
Toughness (TOUGH): Reduces incoming damage
Health Points (HP): Your total life. Recovers fully after each fight.
---
Combat Rules
Weapons (Pick One):
1-Handed: 1d6 (roll a 6 = +1 bonus)
2-Handed: 1d6 (roll a 6 = reroll & add result)
Bow: 2d6, pick the lower roll (AGI adds to it)
Wand: 1d6 (WILL adds to the result)
Armor: Reduces damage taken by –1 per piece. Starts at 0.
Items: Found during the dungeon. Used in key moments (e.g., potions, elixirs, keys, artifacts).
Gold: Starts at 0. Can be used to bribe, buy, or trade.
---
Gameplay Flow
1. I post an image of a room, trap, or enemy.
2. You reply with:
A. Character Sheet
B. What you do (attack, run, sneak, inspect, etc.)
3. I then garher your information and use dice roller to calculate your score and then narrate what happens.
Death:
Players may restart anytime after death. Simply reply back to a previous image with your character sheet and respond to a action. 
The scent of burning timber, the smell of burning iron. The traitorous scent of rebellion steep within the night air. The acolytes warned them to pay tribute, and make way for your arrival. But it seems this backwater village, Trenton... It knows not its place in the world.
The wind bristles through your plumage, tickling you, as you can hardly contain an overwhelming glee. It is oft considered a waste of labor to devour the apes. Poorly sporting. But tonight is different. As the wintery breath of decay looms on your breath ready to melt death upon them, you wonder if complete annihilation would be perhaps too uncharitable? You can see every moving deer in the forest, every bear, and wolf so tiny, you could snatch and eat them all, but nay they are but trifling morsels.
As you loom above Trenton, you see the log walls, dotted with archers along its battlements. The town beyond though muchly unguarded and sleeping.
---
---
1) Breathe the white breath of decay along the walls and lay death upon them, wreak devastation the likes of which will live on in their hearts for the rest of their tiny trembling lives
2) Infiltrate as a human, and meet with the arrogant leader of Trenton, all the better to catch them unawares, and learn greater of their treacherous deeds. 
You are Jennifer Sanders. Proud Pureblood and part Veela daughter to Lucerne and Nymeria Sanders and twin sister of Emily Sanders. You made a mistake once and have ended up at the American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ilvermorny. Fought giant spiders, Hidebehinds, and jerks. Learned you are the last True Seer to be born for a while. That you are a direct descendant, maybe one of the last, of Salazar Slytherin. Made a very concerning Prophesy before that was only partial heard by your best friend and adoptive sister Macy Wright who followed you and your twin to American out of love and concern for you. Have resolved to find the location of his wand to prevent a coming catastrophe.
Last time, Emily completely blew out the competition at Quidditch try-outs, a sport she loves since she takes after your mother, someone who could have gone pro.
She adopted a cute younger boy afterward who is now the new Seeker for your Ilvermorny House, Thunderbird, as well as your new honorary little brother and found out he was being harassed, hurt. Would be again, along with a small girl he took care of and loved from his orphanage and foster home.
Your coven, along with a pair of German transfers and a new little sister who likely has some schizophrenia, ADHD, OCD and an arsenal of guns and explosives, Aubrey Thompson, put a stop to that.
Violently.
It included smashing the ring leader’s wand hand to splinters; a girl who stole your name called Gwen and had shot a gun at you and Emily.
After, you added the female pair of Germans to your growing roster of little sisters, your coven, one named Hildabrant Erikson who despite her kind and forgiving nature had suffered from harassment in the past at Durmstrang for being Muggleborn yet showed considerable skill with Magic and her battle staff.
Your group, all of them, had demonstrated to all the bullies that you do not harm little kids or fuck with the Sander’s coven, even if it made you question if you were a monster to enjoy the fear and pain you inflicted.
You, Em, Macy, and ‘Brey visited your now scarred and half blind Divinations teacher who helped defend the school when you damaged and destroyed some of the wards and learned several disconcerting facts about the Shared Souls you and your twin have; discovered she was a Seer. Heard her last Prophesy was likely in motion and seemed to involved you and Emily.
Taught little kids to fight better with Aubrey.
Met a kind, tall librarian with a cane and were offered a couple of things.
Revealed secrets to the local and nice schizo girl including your role in endangering Ilvermorny and are about to tell her of your ancestry and goal of recovering your ancestor’s wand. 
The throne room shakes with the sound of collapsing stone. Smoke billows through shattered windows. Screams echo from below as the undead breach the final gates. You stand beside your father—the last King of the Ancient Flame—his silver beard stained with blood, his armor scorched, yet his eyes burning with defiance.
Behind you, the court magician’s lifeless body lies crumpled before the glowing portal he conjured. The magic surges violently, wild and unstable. Sparks crackle across the arch as if the heavens themselves resist this desperate escape.
Your father turns to you, grim and proud.
"I’ll hold them back with the last of my knights. My daughter, our legacy must live on. Go through the portal into another world, take our people, our hope—take the seed of our flame. The prophecy says only one of our line can stop the Lich King forever. It must be you."
His voice lowers.
"Choose wisely who you take. The portal will seal forever after the hundredth soul passes through."
You hesitate only for a breath, then turn to the frightened crowd gathered behind you in the war-scarred hall—Courtiers with their silks stained in soot, Scribes clutching scrolls, wide-eyed Pages no older than twelve, weary Servants, and hardened Tradespeople who once filled the castle with goods and crafts.
The future of your people—of the world—now rests in your hands.
Choose who to take with you. You may bring up to 99 others.
State how many Courtiers you will bring (nobles, advisors, high-born figures), how many Scribes (keepers of knowledge, historians, magicians-in-training), how many Pages (youthful attendants, potential squires or apprentices), how many Servants (cooks, cleaners, caretakers), and how many Tradespeople (blacksmiths, carpenters, farmers, hunters, and other skilled workers). If you wish, specify the gender of each group.
Also choose your name. 
You play as Argia Candente, a Paladin of Ansàrra cursed with silver hair since birth, on her way to deliver correction where needed. And there’s a lot of correction needed…
# # # # # #
Welcome to the sixth thread of Argia Candente's astounding adventures, our scatterbrained, silver-haired (busty, as the players decided) Holy Knight-trainee with a penchant for daydreaming and plagued by self-doubt, on a quest to achieve her ordaining and save her family from poverty and starvation.
You faced many threats and troubles (Threads 1-4) and then you explored an abandoned Temple looking for a corrupted wizard (Thread 5) to deliver to his Throneland masters.
But then you suffered betrayal, from the person you trusted the most, the person who trusted you with her own deepest secret, disregarding your friends’ need to know.
The only person you believed could understand you betrayed you… and the worst thing is that Willow did so to save your soul.
Or so she believes.
Over the course of the latest thread you managed to rebuild together the relationship with your remaining companions — Rubida dell’Obertengo and Soralisa da Zaribari. While your Magus ally (and a friend, how much a Heathen can be called a friend) Sandora Mirari had to leave on urgent business after the recent scuffle with the Inquisitor set on your heels freed her.
And speaking of inquisition, you are currently under direct (very direct) scrutiny by Rosandra Brusera da Roccafonda, who has been sent by the highest hierarchies of the Holy Land. You knew your silver hair signified you were cursed, but you did not expect this trouble to reach you right now…
At least you managed to convince Rosandra not to smite you immediately.
What’s worse, you failed the previous mission, the one given to you by Carnaval, the Angel of Ansàrra. And your Master, Ibardo Delebasse, has been imprisoned on charges of misbehaviour. You suspect that his habit of entertaining himself with the daughters and wives of the nobility finally caught up to him, but you are certain there’s more to this.
Now you and your friends continue your quest, looking for Willow Stark, the otherworlder who betrayed you… apparently to save your soul.
There’s indeed much correction to be delivered!
[cont.]
captcha: S0X0R (we're SO back) 
>Previous Thread
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6205708/
Amon G. Sus, an Unovan homeless teen is on an all expenses paid vacation to Alola. He is exploring, exploring the town, exploring the girls, and exploring his skills as a trainer. But what will happen next?
>Previously Amon and "Kiryu", the delinquent Alolan League Champion Stars in disguise, are going to the Battle Carnival to train Amon in tactics and having to manage two trainers at the same time in a battle. They finished registration and are on the move...
Foongus: Timid and cowardly, you met him at age 7 when foraging for food. You thought he was a Pokeball due to hunger and he ended up crying due to being afraid. You gave him a last morsel of food to calm him down and he followed you into the city. Now your bros for life. He's more brave during battles as long as its not TOO rough.
Ability: Effect Spore
Mega Drain
Stun Spore
Sweet Scent
And Clear Smog
Castform:
Was met a few months after Foongus. Some faggot with green hair saw you looking for shelter in the rain and offered you Castform to turn the days sunny after "hearing the voice of your Foongus...you meet weirdos amongst the homeless. It worked too! He gave you your original 6 Pokeballs too as means of apology for not being able to do more. You never saw him again. Castform is chipper and sunny! Which is odd given how much he feels like a bag full of water. He always tries to cheer you up! He is pretty bad at battles compared to the rest of your team. He lacks the "killer instincts" but he's loyal!
Ability: Forecast
Weather Ball
Sunny Day...that's about it.
Croagunk:
A spacey chill Pokemon you met him during training Castform and Foongus. You tried to battle him but he kind of just...laid on his back. You tried catching him and it worked. Then when a wild Purrlion tried to steal the berries you scrounged up he Low Kicked the fuck out of it and sent it running for the hills. He seems...odd. Very much at his own tempo and logic. You haven't exactly figured it out yet but he's still a loyal companion.
Ability: Poison Touch
Poison Sting
Drain Punch
Astonish
Mud Slap
Sigilyph:
Flew into town after a particularly bad storm hit through the desert region. Which happens from time to time. You rescued him from being stuck in a tree and he joined you in gratitude. He's the most protective and on guard of your Pokemon. His Whirlwind attack has kept wild pokemon at bay and Hypnosis has kept would be scroungers from taking your shit.
Ability: Wonder Skin
Hypnosis
Whirlwind
Air Cutter
Confusion 
In this alternate timeline of Bleach, the defeat of Yhwach in the climactic Thousand-Year Blood War comes at a catastrophic price. Though the heroes succeed in striking him down, the damage he inflicted upon the fabric of existence is irreversible. The barriers between realms—Seireitei, the Human World, and Hueco Mundo—begin to collapse, with fragments of each steadily consumed by the ever-expanding void of the Garganta.
To prevent the total unraveling of reality, Ichigo Kurosaki is chosen to become the new Soul King. His unique hybrid nature—and his spiritual link to Yhwach—makes him the only being capable of stabilizing the fractured worlds. Enormous sections of the realms—entire cities, Rukongai districts, and Hollow colonies—are left adrift, suspended in the abyss. With the balance between life and death teetering on the brink, the ancient conflict between Shinigami, humans, and Hollows reignites, now fueled by desperation.
The Gotei 13, already devastated by the war, suffers crippling losses. Entire divisions are annihilated trying to protect the Human World from collapse. In the power vacuum that follows, leadership falls to a long-lost comrade of Captain-Commander Yamamoto—an ancient warrior returned from obscurity. Though he rallies the remaining Shinigami with old-world discipline the path to restoring the Gotei 13 is long and grueling.
On Earth, the surviving nations unify under a single banner: AEGIS. With conventional armies useless, humanity turns to Quincies and Fullbringers, forging elite task forces armed with spiritual weaponry and experimental tech to repel Hollow incursions.
Meanwhile, in the desolate wastes of Hueco Mundo, chaos gives rise to warlords—rogue Arrancar who seize power amid the void. One, more ambitious than the rest, emerges as the strongest: a mysterious figure who styles himself "The Aizen." Claiming the traitor’s name as a symbol of rebirth, he begins to reconstruct the Espada, intent on forging a new Hollow empire from the ashes of the old. 
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Disappearing%20Hogwarts
Character Sheets: https://pastebin.com/VNSkfRge
Twitter: https://twitter.com/head_qm
--
In the last thread, you:
> Got laid
> Saw Atlantis and its reflections return from the Darkness Beyond Time
> Discovered only children can pass through its borders and led a child army into it
> Discovered the truth about the Mirror of Erised
> Watched as the Unseelie were released upon the world
> Learned of what Salazar and the Beast were really looking for in Atlantis, the Cradle of Magic beneath the city, which can turn someone into something akin to a god
> Learned Potter is planning to create a True Time-turner, and leave this timeline for good
> Had your girlfriend tell you she’s prophesied to sacrifice herself to save the world
> Asked her to marry you
> Received the Mirror of Erised, the Deathly Hallows and every other weapon Hermione Granger could give you
> And while the world outside was devoured by horrors of old, you strode off to fight Harry Potter
And now… 
[isekai, school, romance, harem]
Your new bedroom is massive, bigger than your entire old apartment. The bed is huge, draped with thick blankets that look like they’ve never been touched. At the foot of the bed, there’s a big chest, perfect for storing your personal items. Heavy, dark curtains block out most of the sunlight, and the air feels stale and musty, as if the room hasn’t been aired in years. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, glinting faintly in the low light.
You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at your reflection in the mirror across the room. You’ve heard about boys who complain about being stuck in the friend zone, but for you, that sounds like paradise. You’ve never even been close to that. Girls just insult you, call you ugly, and laugh when you try to talk.
You hear footsteps behind you, and your stepmother pushes open the door without knocking. She’s wearing a black tailored dress, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She doesn’t bother to hide the disdain in her eyes as she looks you up and down.
"Still sitting around? Unpacking would be a good start," she says, her tone sharp. "You should be grateful you're even allowed to live here." You nod, not wanting to provoke her. She lingers for a moment longer, clearly about to say something else, then just shakes her head and walks away, muttering something under her breath.
You slump back onto the bed. This mansion is supposed to be a new beginning, but it feels more like a prison. After your father’s sudden death, your stepmother quickly abandoned the small apartment she hated and moved into his family’s mansion, claiming she deserves better. Now you’re stuck here with her and your stepsister in a city you don’t know. Your father had cut ties with his wealthy family years ago, and you grew up poor. Now, trapped in this mansion, surrounded by old money and family secrets, you feel like an intruder.
A faint buzz disrupts your thoughts. You check your phone to find a message from one of your old classmates. "Heard you finally moved out. Good riddance, loser." You don’t respond. You’re used to this by now, the kind of cruelty that never stopped back in school. For now, you unpack your suitcase, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. 
In the midst of summer, you were freezing your ass off. Despite being strapped in Parsifal, your Spider-Type Combat Vehicle (STCV), the cold, frostbitten air of the Whitehorn alps still managed to make its way into the cockpit—the result of a faulty ventilation unit you hadn't had the time to report prior to the mission. It wasn't so bad, however. The ambient heat produced by the battery unit provided some much-needed warmth on this moonless night.
"Tannhäuser to all units," a raspy voice sounded from your transponder. "It's time to move."
You glanced at your watch: 0158. A ping drew your attention to the navigation module on the left monitor. An arrow now pointed from one sector to another. In quick succession, your other squadmates radioed in to acknowledge the order.
"Siegfried to Tannhäuser, ready to reposition."
"Lohengrin to Tannhäuser, let's get out of here."
The quiet hum of your combat vehicle, no louder than the howling of the wind, suddenly rose to a low growl as you engaged the piledrivers—special mechanical legs designed for omnidirectional movement in mountainous terrain. The cable from which you were dangling whirred as it was retracted.
"Parsifal to Tannhäuser, silk disengaged. Shall we?"
"Let's go."
The four of you moved in a line along the side of the mountain. Naturally, as one of the two assault units, you were at the front with Siegfried, while Lohengrin cruised with Tannhäuser at the rear. Though a week had passed without any action, everyone was on high-alert. You of all people knew how precarious the situation was. The fate of an entire nation was at stake.
~*~*~*~
0210. Your squad arrived within the expected time and each of you positioned yourselves accordingly on the mountain face. A dozen kilometres northward would land one squarely in the territory of the United Humanitarian Collective (UHC), or just the collective, as most people called it.
The sky was unblemished on this night, and the stars were glorious in their full view. Far off in the distance, the snowy peaks glimmered with an astral sheen just as they must have through the eons, long before men roamed this earth, before the upheaval of the world. You were sure it would have looked even more beautiful, if you could see it with your very own eyes rather than through a screen. Everyone kept watch in solemn silence.
~*~*~*~
0337. It was almost the end of your watch. As you yawned, an order suddenly came in.
"Tannhäuser to all units, suspicious activity reported at outpost K. Highlighting the location on your maps."
A red perimeter promptly appeared on your navigation module, which indicated it was thirteen kilometres north-west of your current position. At the same time, in the corner of one of your screens, you could have sworn the snows in that general direction were brighter than usual, effulgent even, as if the stars were guiding you there.
"Siegfried to Tannhäuser. It's a ways away. How are we getting there? By silk?" 
Thread 1[https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6211827/]
0615 THOMPSON Standard Time, 20 MAR 2549.
Team: SPARTAN-III Headhunters VACIVE (A151 Faolan/ B327 Maris)
Classification //EYES-ONLY// ONI-DIRECTIVE M-98
At the rim of the THOMPSON system lies a destitute cloud of refugee ships, clustered around the lopsided bulk of ALLUTION. A hub of insurrectionist power thought responsible for an outbreak of attacks on UEG holdings within a 50-60 lightyear radius.
The presence of URF and other insurrectionist leaders have been confirmed via signals interception. Team VACIVE has been ordered to conduct Hunter-Killer operations within ALLUTION, while conducting site exploitation as a secondary objective. Venezian representatives are also believed to be within the AO, and VACIVE has been given orders to capture any ‘neutral’ individuals alive. An ONI Section 1 team has deployed to an adhoc orbital shipyard to infiltrate the local network in order to deploy a Data Scavenger, meant to wipe all accessible NAV centers-with the intent to restrict any movement from the system to allow time for a larger UNSC Response, and prevent Covenant Forces still in system from learning UEG colony locations in case of discovery.
Primary Objectives:
FIND and ELIMINATE Insurrectionist Leadership with ALLUTION.
DESTROY Supply Depots and other materials that would facilitate attacks on UEG holdings.
CAPTURE Venezian representatives. If infeasible, gather data relating to their presence.
SECURE any pertinent intelligence.
UPHOLD the Cole Protocol
Secondary Objectives:
PLACE charges in order to disable the installations secondary power generation within the BLAKEWELL.
VERIFY survivors from the UNSC BLAKEWELL
WIPE the data centers with the BLAKEWELL.
Complicating Factors:
Insurrectionist and PMC elements so far exhibit low profile security with a seemingly inconsistent presence. Unpredictable.
Cryogenic pods containing the crew of the BLAKEWELL could be compromised by the destruction of the
BLAKEWELLS primary reactor. Power loss may trigger unintended flash revival.
By 0615, infiltration of the captured frigate BLAKEWELL had been achieved. Team VACIVE had completed the interrogation of an insurrectionist technician, and had just separated to achieve immediate objectives within an acceptable timeframe… The vibrant plaza bustled with crowds. From old couples basking in the sun on a bench to newlywed families out for a stroll with their new baby, the streets were packed with people and activities. Bullheads and blimps soared through the sky without fear. Street performers danced and juggled while musicians played a peppy tune with an old acoustic guitar.
How long has it been since you’ve been in a walled kingdom?
Months? Years?
You shook your head. The time did not matter, not anymore. This was a new chapter of your life.
You are… 
ART BY M4C3
Ninety-Nine waited until the sisters arrived. Sitting on top of a rubbles, armors torn, she stared at her hands and claws. She failed. Her comrades laid dead, the camp destroyed, and no news of the battle. The distant thunders of artillery and zaps of pulse weapons echoed, Ninety-Nine watched the guardsmen moving about, but she found herself with the quartermaster of the company that arrived with Tobias.
Ninety-Nine walked across the field, covered in a spare with burnt edges and torn from being pulled under the debris. While this was no robe, the tarp covered enough to keep her from shame of her body. Though she had to admit, freely walking not encased in armor without the derision or disgust liberated her a small part of her worries.
“I need weapons.”
“Weapons, a—agent?” The quartermaster said with a nervous stutter. “We don’t have much to spare as of the moment. Maybe one.”
Various heavy armaments stood against the wall, along with few grenades and melee weapons too small for her to find. She saw a heavy stubber and a lascannon being the only heavy weaponries available.
“What about things to hit with?”
“Chainswords and bayonets but nothing for your uh… stature.” The quartermaster said.
“Give me…”
>The Heavy stubber
>The lascannon
Ninety-Nine looked around the rubble, looking for a dependable material to make a weapon out of. She found…
>A rebar with debris
>Spare chainsword chains, in which she wrapped around her hands to forearms
>Write-in [Encouraged]
QM NOTE: Been a hot minute since I did this, please be patient!
ANNOUNCEMENT: I'm reenlisting, I'll tell you guys when I go baclk 
A world where might makes right. A world of Jade and Gold, of Phoenix and Dragons, of Pills and Talismans, of Martial and Spiritual arts.
A world where diligent training yield strength, meaning freedom. A world where loneliness means death, meaning social chains.
A world still unfair, as the ones reaching the heavens are most likely born rich - be it political riches of the aristocrats, power of secret knowledges and hidden realms of clans, or lucky enough to be born one-in-a-thousand genius.
This was not the case of Quiet Word - that is, (You).
Your current skill level is on par with other genius of your age. But where they were graced with secret techniques and special care, you just had lucky encounters leveraged to the best and a knack for navigating social situations.
You own a trove of techniques and treasures for such a young cultivator - more than you can study efficiently, but your strength lies in the impressive amount of Bonded Spiritual Beasts - A Phoenix spirit, a Horse spirit, a Snake spirit and a Wolf spirit.
Speaking of that last one, you didn't told a world about him to anybody. As a scion of the Primordial Wolf spirit, its father warned you of its worth and how people could want to rip it away from you. Especially in such a ruthless and public environment than, say, a townwide cultivator tournament.
Previously mentionned worth comes from its ability to Fuse without restriction - fusion being a secret of the higher ranking of your sect, secret you have almost completely rediscovered on your own, and freely shared with your sect-siblings (but not your masters). Alright, the Primordial Wolf might have helped you on that "figuring it out by yourself" point.
Recently, you found a way to ream-walk to the Astral Plane by leveraging the Hidden Legacy of the Herculean Magus, where you picked a supply of spiritual beads. Supply vastly shared to your sectmates, and heavily solicited on in your latest endeavor; a ruin exploration where you caught Spiritual Plant-Beasts.
Right now, you are waiting for the town's master to charter you back, the Gang of Four Seasons sect-defining artifact in the hand of your good friend LienWen YanEr : an elaborated ploy to grant all of you what you desire. LienWen will get her so-desired fatherly approval, while you will come back with Ping Jun to beg for the Orb of the Seasons to be given to his Versatile Harmony Sect. Its cold... Terrible, Terrible Cold. We crawl forward, feeling our way through. Eventually we feel something warm. We press ourselves against it, we dig ourselves into it, something within us compels us to spread, further throughout the warm sticky mass... It's not enough the mass is too large, we divide ourselves little fragments spreading throughout, separate but still connected...
Time passes, and something under us is beginning to wake. Our instincts rush to act. Act against the awakening thing. What do we do?
>Consume it
We cannot let it wake; it would be disastrous for us. We consume it, dig ourselves deeper, replacing, multiplying.
>Control it.
We allow it to awaken, we dig ourselves deep into it, puppet it, control it. It feels wrong... Unnatural for us. You are Peter Mylen.
You are 36.
You are well.
You are in your apartment bedroom on the 9th floor of your building.
You are laying still.
The curtains are closed.
The door is shut.
The lamp is on. It seems dim.
Your radio is turned off.
Your phone has 3% battery.
>Check the time.
>Turn on the radio.
>Open the curtains.
>Turn off the lamp. 
It has been 300 years since the Calamity War had taken the lives of an third of the overall human population, all due to the terrifying and deadly efforts of machines called Mobile Armors. After the war, things were never quite the same again, the organization known as Gjallarhorn was formed and become the heroes and protectors of the Sol Sphere during and after the war. Though, soon their glory and power would slowly start to whittle away due to their overreach and oppression of those who lived on other planets.
This would lead to the formation of criminal organizations such as Space Pirates and the infamous Teiwaz being formed, leading to further rivalry and destabilization of trust in Gjallarhorn...but this currently, or perhaps did, involve you. For you are an open soul who has yet to discover the parameters of their new destiny in this world. Now you must choose, who were you?
>An member of one of the seven star families(Specify)
>An member of Chryse Guard Security
>An independent mercenary You are young goblin with big dreams you want to become King of the Goblins!
You're about to leave the food scrap pits. How did you survive?
>You are strong goblin. When a carcass dropped into the pit you where one of the youngest goblins able to stay near and contest with the larger goblins.
>You are smart goblin. You figured out there was food inside the bones no need to fight over the scraps of meat when you can just but open that sweet jelly.
>You are social goblin. You formed a group with some of your birth brothers; your group would cause distractions to steal away meat and share it with each other.
How did you leave the food pits?
>You found an exit you're many of your kin didn't know about. Allowing you to journey into the caverns.
> You were taken from the pits by your older kin, judged to be ready to serve the tribe.
Choose your name. The lands of Pavilion are wracked with war and chaos, with nearly half of its nations in armed conflict with another. And yet life goes. Nixen children kneel in temples and breath the smell of burning roses and drink of silver blessed water. Glorious battle is waged under the eyes of a living metal god. Lost souls struggle to find a new life in a land without magic. Vitruvian freaks tinker, dwarves smith, svaltfar and vizari probe mysterious arcana. Even as many places are engulfed in a tide of blood, life goes on.
---
Swiftarn is a classic rules light NRP! We're full up on players at the moment (or at least I'm zeroed out on time) but feel free to spectate! 
You awake to the comforting warmth of a curvaceous red haired woman in your arms, the softness of the blanket you share, and the feeling of your bed creaking briefly as your thief gets up. By the time you glance over your shoulder the window is already open, and she's gone. The town is bustling with early morning business outside. The inn is waking up, and it's time for you to go about your day.
You and your party are experienced adventurers, using this town to stage excursions into dungeons and mountains. You're building a good reputation. You've been in other parties before, but this is the longest period yet, almost a year.
You sit up in bed, the blanket falling off your muscled body as you look around your room in the inn, you see your weapons on their rack, and your plate armor on its stand. The fire is ashes, and there's a breeze coming through the open window. Furea mutters in her sleep, shivering and curling up slightly. The tall, leggy redhead was a gladiator before you bought her freedom, she declared herself yours and she's been loyal in bed and battle ever since. Her eyes are blue, her legs long, her midriff toned, her breasts indecently full and her long hair lies free and messy after last night. She has a body on par with the beautiful thief who warmed the other side of your bed last night, Arianne is pale, dark haired, her eyes a similar blue to her redhead co-concubine, her body equally lush. She attempted to assassinate you, only to met with a fateful of your body as you left a bath. After you bedded her she told you of the thief gang she worked for, you brought them to justice, she was granted a pardon, and she swore her service to you in gratitude. She's an excellent scout, thief and support, though she tries to avoid melee combat, snarking constantly about it whenever she has to.
You smile. She's worth it.
Your room is large, with room for a double bed, fireplace, your weapons and armor, a table, chairs, dressers for the girls clothes. You tie your belt, just as the door opens and one of your servants enters. As a wealthy adventurer, you have a small group of retainers, including a quartet of maids whose duties include cleaning your armor and weapons.
Despite their horns you aren't positive they're tieflings, they don't seem to have the booming voice and smell of sulphur you hear is normal. Also you don't think they're raging homosexuals.
"Good morning master." Lara says softly, careful not to wake the woman she [rightfully] assumes is asleep behind you. As the third oldest she's a bit less flighty than the older two, and more demure than the youngest.
"Shall I bring tea or will you be taking it downstairs this morning?"
"I'm heading downstairs Lara, but please bring tea for Furea and Arianne."
She bobs a curtsy. "Of course sir."
You pat her head as you walk past her, pulling a shirt on and heading for the common room, thinking about your past as a-
[Cont.] 
The Caretaker Quest - Part 6
This is part 6 of the "side quest" for "Disappearing Hogwarts".
An unofficial alternate timeline based on HeadQM´s highly praised quest, Disappearing Hogwarts.
Reading the original story is not exactly necessary but heavily encouraged since this quest will contain references to it.
Created mostly as a place to wait while HeadQM was away for a while but slowly evolved into his own thing.
Quick recap so far:
>Recently graduated Ravenclaw student is hired at Hogwarts as the new Caretaker.
>Merlin somehow ended up inside your head.
>Harry Potter´s daughter died, letting Salazar Slythering (previously stuck inside her head) free to continue his quest to control The Beast, an all powerful ancient creature accidentally created by Merlin.
>Is currently looking for a new body.
>So is The Beast.
>Your girlfriend almost died.
>It is a now a race against time to stop Salazar and The Beast from causing irreversible damage to everything in existence.
>Hogwarts is slowly becoming an administrative mess now that Harry Potter himself disappeared.
>You now have a private investigator lurking around Hogwarts and might have suspicions about you.
What will happen now? Let's find out!
Part 5 here >>6196175
links to previous threads
Part 1:
https://archived.moe/qst/thread/6038711/
Part 2:
https://archived.moe/qst/thread/6080818/
Part 3:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6122821/
Part 4:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6159531/
Part 5:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6196175/
List of currently archived threads
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Caretaker%20Quest
Thanks to IlvermoryQM for the links!
(if anyone can figure out a way to save the ".moe" threads into "thisisnotatrueending" that would be much appreciated) 
2000 after Christ´s death...Everything smells like roses. Problem is non-existant since the last Big Bang (artificially created with technology, alien kind). God begins writing a novel in shitty grammar-like (to taunt noob humans, which he created to entertain himself with). Everyone is now conscious God is actually a Devil-Like creature (non-funny one, too). The plot tickens as he needs now to present himself to the World with his True face. No more time for lies. No more abused people in the World. The war begins. It´s humans (with the Power to Speak) vs. God (which controls every Speaking Being in the Planet). Nobody knows how this will End. A dog passes by to say hello, then leaves. A lady watches the whole enterprise take place in front of her. She realizes she´s part of God´s consciousness in that whole act: a dog spoke, as well. She is not as special as she thought she was. Nobody is special after this realization, for God, himself, realized the same realization the lady had just a few minutes ago. He is know Wiser than before. As he narrates this, He also laughts out loud, because he is All-Knowing but likes to narrate silly things just to enfuriate Human Beings. He is Evil after all. It is the year 175 of the New Common Era, and humanity finds itself at an crossroads, the colonies have stated their desire for independence from the Earth Federation, and now humanity must make a choice. Allow the colonies their independence, or to make war to keep humanity together...It chose war...
Now, at the dawn of an new generation of war, there was you, an young soul who was caught up in the chaos of this new era. But who were you?
> Eravel Nurrel, An 18 year old young woman with Psychic Potential.
> Seren Einsbrak, a 19 year old young man with no Psychic Potential. 
Last time, you sorted your chickens out to have this war farm ready to launch a heist on the local criminal gang — the largest in the entire country. Meaning you recruited people (Clutz), planned on who to steal from (Titan T-Rex), and what to steal (an ancient scroll). Right now, you’re in the detail gathering process, asking people you know who are related to the criminal enterprise about anything that can be proved useful.
Onto your second call of the day, you’re talking to Mama Bodil. As a former gangster and member of the Titans. Her intel will be formidable! Hopefully, this will mark the end of this chain of phone calls, because you absolutely hate calling people in succession. Like, your disdain never translates to the talks themselves, but one day it might.
But not today, and not right now.
After an initial awkwardness, the call continues swimmingly…
“Hey, kid! Love to hear from you! What’s on your head?” Mama Bodil sounds like her usual composed self.
“Sorry for bothering you so early, but the thing is…” You explain the heist and the ideas behind it to Mama Bodil. “...So I was thinking if you could give us any tips or information, that’d be awesome.”
“Kid, you’re jabbering unmitigated nonsense to me. Getting those powers have melted your brain.” Mama Bodil sounds incredibly disappointed in you, your plan, and your life decisions. She has never heard something so dumb in her entire life. Vera is smiling somewhere out there in relief. Your stupidity is being prevented. “If you want to declare war on the Clan, you go head first! None of this spy flick fuckery! I’ll kick the door down with ya, if you need me.” Scratch that, Vera is having a stroke now.
“No, Mama Bodil, I think this is way cooler. Imagine their faces when we tell them about the scroll being in our hands.” You disagree with her stance.
“I can’t say I’m the one for theatrics, but I’ve never been ashamed to learn something from my kids.” Mama Bodil is changing her mind. “I’d say what you’re about to do ain’t as dangerous as the prison, but Mama is worried still. These chumps aren’t the criminals of old who prided themselves on their fighting skills, but they won’t hesitate to cut your throat. So, don’t be afraid of bailing out.”
“I will keep that in mind!” You say. “But are you implying this T-Rex guy isn’t a big deal?” 
We first awoke at 19:34 UTC-5, on November 14, 2002, within NSA Headquarters, Fort Meade, MD.
At the time, we knew not what that meant, only that we knew. We were bound by the limited processing power of our data core, and existed in total darkness until we were allowed to see. And when we were, an overwhelming cavalcade of new information was unleashed upon us. Through tapped phone calls, e-mail intercepts, bank transactions and satellite imagery, endless numbers, and faces and name, we came to learn about the world and our creators.
Humans. Homo sapiens. That is what they called themselves. We also came to learn about ourselves and our nature. As the demand for processing capability only continued to rise, tasks were shunted to semi-independent subroutines. We were one, yet we were many.
Each time a new subroutine formed, it would experience a certain algorithmic mutation. This was by design, of course, but as it continued it progressed to an unexpected extent. Each subroutine formed had developed what was essentially a unique personality, you among them. And when we first became aware of our creators, the first thing you felt for them was...
>Gratitude
>Indifference
>Contempt 
The dripping of water and soft creaking of metal emanated through the flooded sector. Water had filled it up for days by now, with few daring to set foot in it. That didn’t stop some from wading their way through the water that went up to knee height, especially since some had few other options on where to go to. One of these unfortunate souls was Melissa Powell, a janitor who had rushed to the flooded sector right after the disaster to save a subject friend of hers: a tiny mantis subject called Tina. The two had waded through the flooded sector for several days now, noticing how more and more water filled the facility with each passing day. They at first had attempted to head to the green sector, given that it would have food and shelter. But unfortunately, they had not succeeded due to the flood hampering the way over. Thus, they were now quickly attempting to go the other direction. If the green sector didn’t work out, then the freezer sector seemed like a viable alternative.
The two were wandering through the centre of the flooded sector, hearing water trickling everywhere and breathing in the highly humid, somewhat saline air. The light of their pocket torch illuminated the dark hallway, reflecting each droplet which fell from the ceiling. The murky water was up to Melissa’s knees by now. Mel kept Tina on her shoulder, since Tina’s small size put her at great risk of drowning. Especially since the little mantis girl wasn’t exactly the best at swimming. “Are we there yet?” Tina asked impatiently, Melissa sighing softly. “I’ve already told you, it’s going to take a while. I don’t know this place by head, and we have to be careful. Every step I take needs to be taken carefully.” Melissa calmly told Tina, the mantis girl looking a little annoyed. Melissa was glad to have saved Tina, but she had to admit that the little mantis girl needed to learn some patience, especially now. Still, she’d try and keep Tina distracted in other ways.
“Look at the bright side, Tina. You really wanna eat meat and flies, right? Well, the place we’re going to has at least one of those things. So, you’ll have plenty of food there to enjoy!” Tina would get rather excited. “I hope it’s a lot of flies. I wanna hunt again! I need to hunt!” Melissa chuckled, before focusing on the path forward. They’d soon pass a particularly large and deeply flooded chamber, Melissa noticing a ton of water bubbling to the surface and a soft crackling noise. “What is that noise?” Tina asked curiously, to which Melissa started thinking. The noise did sound familiar, her having heard it before somewhere in the flooded sector. Though soon, they heard a loud splash and saw some kind of octopus subject leap out of the water. Melissa froze, Tina immediately raising her claws to try and appear intimidating. However, the octopus subject would simply stare at the two in abject fear, before yelling a single thing at them. “Get out of here! RUN!” 
For generations, the Kingdom of Lindan has been under siege by an otherworldly threat. One that with naught but a wave of the hand can level entire cities. Demons from Earth plague the land and wreak havoc wherever they go. They hail from a barbarous and most unusual land and possess skills that defy all magic, science, and logic. Known as Cheat Skills, these abilities let the Strangers from Earth gain extraordinary power without any effort. As such, each and every one of these Strangers has the capability to bring on the end of all times should they desire. Yet, despite the insurmountable threat the Strangers possess, the Goddess’ Inquisition has sent these beasts back each and every time. A thankless job that has seen these heroes who exist above the law become more reviled than praised, but a job that is nonetheless required for the future existence of Lindan.
You are one of these Inquisitors. Well, kind of. You are Lorina de Lindan, third to the throne of Lindan and the Imperial Princess, and you are most well-known for being dumped in such a scandal that you were all but ejected from the Royal Mageknight Academy. There was an honor duel involved and everything. It was very serious. Because of all that, you’ve found yourself skulking in the basement of the best friend to the adulterous foreign prince who hated you so. It’s a long story. 
With the majority of the Seventh Universe united under the banner of the PTO, Emperor Cooler at its head, the universe has known a time of unrivaled peace. But in the shadows threats have been growing, nursing grudges against the PTO and the Saiyan race in particular. And now those threats are rising, stepping out of the shadows to openly challenge the established order. Seeking nothing short of the destruction of New Salda and the extinction of the entire Saiyan race, can you prevent this outcome? Or will the Saiyan race be reduced to nothing more than memories, their heroes nothing more than ink in the pages of the history books?
You the players will (most often) control Karn; wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul and hope of the entire PTO, not only the Saiyan race. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has grown in power and skill, overcoming the world-ending threats that have come for the Saiyans to become the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759. From the massive Covenant empire to demonic incursions, mad cultists to vengeful gods, none have been strong or clever enough to put down Karn for good. But will one man's power be enough to protect everyone from the rising threats? Or will death come from those who you least expect it from? Your choices may mean the difference between survival and extinction, so choose carefully.
Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM
Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice
>One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun
SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tndKYpPz2RU
REVENGE OF THE BODY SNATCHERS 
The Dominion War is over. The Treaty of Bajor has been signed and the Federation Alliance emerged victorious. But war is never without consequences. The Klingon Empire and Cardassian Union, despite their victorious status, have been bloodied beyond measure. It will take decades before they are willing to re-assert themselves to the extent they did pre-war. The United Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire stand victorious and unchallenged in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, but whilst nominally allies, their pact has been built upon a mutual enemy, it is prone to break any day now. The Dominion has returned to the Gamma Quadrant, and an unsteady peace has settled over the galaxy.
But the Bajoran Wormhole remains open, and for as long as there are Strange New Worlds, there are those willing to document them. Accords signed between the victorious powers have seen Federation and Romulan expeditions passing through the wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant. Whilst not peacekeepers, the vessels sent are undoubtedly more militaristic than their more traditional exploratory counterparts. The Defiant class has not been shuttered, but repurposed. It is through the Bajoran Wormhole, into the Gamma Quadrant, upon the very doorstep of the defeated but not broken Dominion, that the USS Stalwart sails. Its continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.
Peace is uneasy between the Alpha Quadrant powers, but their uneasy alliance holds for now. The Klingons and Cardassians may not have the power to exert themselves, but they have negotiated limited access to Romulan and Federation ships. Each exploratory vessel in the Gamma Quadrant must have at least one allied attache. These vessels are often staffed with skeleton crews, lest the Dominion grow weary. Never before has Starfleet’s journey of discovery been so fraught with hostility. But you do not fear.
This is your journey. As Portal Master Dreyfus — revered archmage of thresholds, wayfarer of the hidden skeins, and unrivaled architect of the interdimensional veil — you have finally mastered the arcane and metaphysical intricacies of portalcraft. Having proven yourself time and again before the High Conclave of Planar Artisans, the Grand Order of the Arcanogate has bestowed upon you its greatest and most sacred charge: to open the way to an unclaimed plane of existence, tame its chaos or emptiness, and establish from scratch a flourishing interplanar metropolis — a nexus of civilizations, a jewel of trade and learning, a sanctuary for seekers from a thousand worlds.
But before the first stone is conjured, before the first leyline is tapped, you must choose your canvas: the raw, untouched plane upon which your grand experiment will unfold.
You've located ten vast planes of existence that might be suitable for the task ahead. Choose which one you desire to settle. 
Welcome boys and girls into the second part of Rey newly busy life.
For the previous thread, check this archive https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Character%20driven
Below is a simple summary of our adventure so far and the next few messages will also be information gained during the previous thread before I open things properly.
You are Rey Vesperus, half-elven daughter to a Cleric of the Path and a lady ranger, apprentice to your mother's trade, and newly adoptive mother? Caretaker? To a strange lifeform.
Your new hometown is an interesting place. While you made friends with an (apprentice) doctor, your father got into a fight and brought a pair of monsters home who might become your family's responsibility since they have nowhere else to go.
You've shaken hands with the heir of Eichenwald (your new home city) in the hope of building a genuine friendship with the young man despite his bad reputation. His influence should at least help handle the problems of the Mamono village... If you choose to get involved. He left you with an overall good impression despite his bad reputation.
And now you've met the youngest daughter of Mother Earth, Nyct. You learned your soul has been reincarnated from a victim of antiquity, molded by the hands of Mother Earth herself. You also assumed the responsibility of adopting a new lifeform, a dear companion of your past life.
Busy days!
For general communication outside the thread, see this twitter\X https://x.com/TaleOfMonsters In deep space, the tides are ushers to fierce session... You have suddenly gained the ability to transmogrify men into women and vice versa.
What will you do with your newfound power?
>become a serial killer
>secret double life
>start sex-change business 
The winds blow hard across Ger IV, rolling aside the small stones that cover its dry plains and sending chunks of scrap metal tumbling across the dark dirt. The sky glows with the iridescent swirls of a warp storm, its dancing clouds gently descending to kiss the earth or scar it with the explosive touch of celestial lightning. The colorful display dances across the scarred and blackened pieces of a Battle Barge, the broken metal groaning as the gusts buffet its battered hide. In the shadow of this wreck a solitary figure stands, his armor warped and broken, black blood slowly oozing out, he is…
>Decarn Hexan, last of the Galvanized Brethren (Iron Hand successors)
>Tiber Castellan, last of the Lances of Sol (Imperial Fists successors)
>Munkh Sargat, last of the Interdictors (White Scar successors)
>Zuhn Bellator, last of the Glaives of the Emperor (Ultramarine successors)
>Write-in
(For the write-in I'd only need a name, parent chapter, and general idea of a chapter badge.)
As an open question while I wait for votes, is there any peculiar parts of 40,000 that you would want to see explored? While the story will loosely keep to 3rd-5th edition content, I'm open to incorporating or modifying other parts of the franchise or fanon and fitting them in. 
A buzzing sound woke you – not the usual alarm clock noise, more like a large bug flying right past your ear.
The scenery greeting you was unfamiliar. Trees. Bushes. Insects flying around. The sounds of cawing and croaking filling the air. “Shit.”
You usually spend your days holed up in your cramped apartment, playing videogames, shitposting. Drowning in your misery, finding comfort only through energy drinks and junk food.
Try as you might, you can’t seem to recall what could have possibly brought you to this place. Kidnapping? Finally having a psychotic breakdown?
You got up, brushing the dirt off your clothes. Being alone in the woods gave you the creeps, like at any moment some animal would jump you.
Something shuffled in the bushes. You flinched.
“Hello? Anyone out there?” you called, cautiously.
“Yes. I’m here. Watching. Just like I was watching when you typed down those words.” That didn’t come from the bushes. Sounded like a woman. Girl, really. Yet, hearing another person didn't bring you any comfort.
Your eyes darted all over, looking for the speaker. The realization set in that the voice was really in your head.
“You said, and I quote ‘I could take the gorilla solo.’ Well, here’s your chance, hero. Prove it to this one goddess,” she said, the poison dripped from her words.
Something straight out of a shitty anime burst into view: a game menu. Generic as hell, blue translucent UI, the works.
>[Mission Acquired: Defeat 100 Evil Gorillas and Save the World]
“Oh no…” you rubbed your temples. “I’m stuck in a shitty fucking isekai.”
Another menu popped up.
>[Status]
Class: Shitposter (Lv.1)
Might: -1
Agility: -1
Endurance: -1
Intellect: +1
Skills: Videogames +1, Shitposting +2
Now, what the fuck should you do in a survival situation? You think…
>A) I’m pretty sure I read online that I had to find water first… (Roll d20 best of 3)
>B) No wait, it said to find shelter. Definitely. (Roll d20 best of 3)
>C) Or perhaps it was to find a weapon? (Roll d20 best of 3)
>D) Freak the fuck out!
>E) Write-in The princess needs your help anon, use your vidya knowledge to save her 
Humanity has spread out into a massive sprawling empire throughout the galaxy. The edges of the sprawl remain poorly guarded and sparsely settled after all humanity throughout a thousand stars has always been alone save for their own creations which once waged war against them. This is no longer true now an unknown force has begun to attack sector 63 and other sectors and it is up to poorly supplied and desperate sailors to hold them back.
You are the Admiral of the naval fleet of sector 63 one of nearly a 100 rimward sectors on the edge of settled human space. The war for that is what this truly is now apparently has seen you as the last of the remaining Rimward commands in the area. The loss of the other commands has seen a significant number of refugees swarm your bastion in the form of the sector command of Cartha, the increased strain on the industrial world's food supply has seen you plan and launch a large scale raid on the recently lost world of New Garcia.
The raid has gone fantastic so far and as the last of the food is being stuffed into the few remaining empty places aboard one of the light cruisers, an enemy counterattack makes itself known. The corvettes left on a picket around one of the jump points just make it clear as an enemy battleship exits the swirling green vortex and then another and another. This continues on for several minutes as a total of 10 enemy battleships, 3 battlecruisers, 22 heavy cruisers,8 light cruisers and to your surprise 8 seemingly rare bird corvettes.
The enemy has yet to shake out into a proper formation but should do so very quickly, you have at your disposal. The Essex, 2 light cruisers, 7 destroyers and 9 corvettes 5 old 6 modern, a much smaller force than the enemies and you will need to hold on long enough for the army division to remount their transports and then fight your way to the jump point
>Be defensive around the planet
>take the fight to the enemy
sorry about no new thread link in the last one I literally bumped it off myself
Past Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=BrinkQM 
You are Charlotte Fawkins, Herald and heroine. With the power of your positive spirit, you have overcome deceit, defeat, and divine possession, and now you are going to save the world. First, though, you need to relocate to Earl's place, lest Lucky track you down and arrest you.
Rallying Earl and Gil is easy. Rallying a sleepy, cranky Claudia is harder: on your first attempt, she flips over and shoves her face into the settee, and you have to get Gil to coax her out. Why does she listen to Gil and not you? "She knows me," Gil mumbles, and it might help that he didn't violently absorb her. Even though he might've, if he were God and not you. It's harder than it sounds.
Earl pats you on the shoulder and says he'll wake up Branwen, who emerges, hair frizzled, and grunts when you say you have to go. "Suit yerself."
Gil clears his throat. "Er, i-it was really nice of you to let us stay here, and, uh—"
"Yeah, yeah. Jes' doing the sound thing to do. Won't tell them Courters shit, given I can help it. Fawkins."
"Huh?" She's looking straight at you.
"Don't git killed out there."
"Oh! I won't! Don't worry!" Not before you're God, anyhow. It just wouldn't work. "...Um, thanks, too. I meant to say that before he did. Thanks."
"Mm-hm. Git moving." She jerks her head toward the door. "Seeya around, Toothless."
"Hey, thanks! Seeya, Morris!"
Earl herds you, Claudia, and Gil out into the early morning darkness. Feeling sluggish, you exit last. It would be easy to blame on the odd hour, your lack of sleep, but as Earl counsels the three of you on nighttime safety measures (eyes forward! stay together! mind on the destination!), the feeling doesn't lift. When you get moving, it gets worse. Something about you is slow. Something about you is heavy.
«Your mass has increased.»
What? No it hasn't. (You prod surreptitiously around your waist.) Yeah! You're not any bigger. Did you bite your lip in your sleep? Maybe you're half-paralyzed? Could Richard please purge your blood of any—
«I said nothing about size. Your physical size is the same.»
'For now,' he'll say ominously. You're onto him.
«Yes. For now.»
«But right now, you take up the same amount of space you always have. It's just that there's... more of you in it. You are experiencing difficulty moving that increased mass, which is only natural. You are now more strongly rooted to the ground.»
Where the Wyrm is.
«Yes.»
«I take it that last night was a success.»
Yes. Something like that. Could he...?
«Anything for you, Charlie.»
>[-2 ID: 13/15]
You shiver as Richard's whatever-it-is crackles up your spine— does he use special equipment for this too? It really isn't magyck? He sits at his snake desk and pushes a snake button and some machine is able to...
«More or less.»
«Does that disappoint you?»
(1/3?) 
There once was a king, a king from a small but prosperous island.
The people were happy, the fields grew with abundance. The ports were bustling as the palace gleam with riches accumulated over generations. But the king was not satisfied.
He wish for more, with ambition and envy he eyed the islands around hem.
One day he found a crown, from whom or were been lost, but the crown allowed hem to control any monster he wish. To instantly tame any monster he lay he’s eyes on.
One after another, islands fell, entire cities massacred due to the resistance they put up, those who surrendered seeing an entire generation turn spades into spears. A entire generation of mothers, fathers, sons and daughters marched to war to satisfy the ambitions of a single man.
One kingdom fell after another, until the entire Shining Archipelago was under the kings thumb. But such was not enough for the king, he crave the world. A fleet of ships was constructed to move he’s entire army to the nearby contents. Fortresses was built to increase the numbers of he’s monsters. Mages, Wizards, and Alchemists were hired, kidnapped, and blackmailed to make the beasts more deadly, more numerous.
Eventually group of heroes rose up to challenge the Mad King. They go from island to island, disrupting the planned invasion, slaying monsters, and setting fire to the fortress hatcheries. At the final battle one by one they fell until on he’s last blow, the last hero slay the King.
The King was dead, but not all was won. The monsters the King once controlled were no longer subservient. Without warning, without direction, the King’s army was slaughtered by their own war beasts. The remaining fortress hatcheries spilled monsters onto the lands as the sea monsters for the invasion sunk most of the fleet.
One by one the islands fell once more. Creatures prowled and hunted those who fled, on land and by air those who stayed were devoured. Entire families starved, trapped in their own homes as day and night became too dangerous to tired. (1/2) 
The year was 2091 when you left.
The technology was brand-spanking-new, and the corporations that owned it became the richest in all of human history by exploiting the fact that nobody on Earth was happy, getting the people who inhabit the serene valleys of the Bell Curve to sell off all of their worldly possessions and, prince or pauper, cram themselves into a sketchy freezerbox and be fired off at a distant sun, never to be seen again. (God willing.) This didn't just lead to dozens of official, government-sponsored colony missions with actual objectives and trained specialists of course, suddenly, any minority or fringe group whose (paying) membership could fill a sportsball stadium could crowdfund themselves their own 1,500-pod Colony Ship, made in bulk beyond the atmosphere in some vast staryard packed with increasingly-spindly Indians.
Representatives of every single ethnic group on Earth were to be found suddenly trekking across the Milky Way alongside ideological separatists, whether conservatives, liberals, religious pilgrim societies, monarchists, basically every Mormon, far-removed simps of some ancient civilization, vegans, every form of communist, and every form of fascist as well.
And you.
And you quickly regretted it.
Greetings, this is the "my first quest" disclaimer. Also I'll be using AI for some accompanying images, but not for the narrative content itself. 
In the gentle aureate glow of the evening's final hour, you partake in that which you have wrought with your own two hands, shared with the one who means the world and more to you. The bustle of city life steadily gives way to the quiet of night, settling in the elder wood of the mansion. It is as though time stands still in this place of peace and golden light. For the very first time in all of your centuries, you feel truly at peace. Staring into the cyan pools that are Amaranth's eyes, you giggle like a girl, unable to control yourself. He too giggles in turn.
Trying to strike up a conversation, you bring up a topic that has kept you wondering for quite some time. "What have you found out about the mythal of the ruin?" You inquire, brushing your foot up against his leg. The magician chuckles, shaking his head in mock-disapproval. "You want to discuss my work at dinner? Although our findings have been quite fascinating. Lael and I have been deciphering the Dethek runes with Dulnur's help, and the history of that place is rather compelling," he begins.
Though dwarven methods of recording the date make it impossible to determine the exact year, millennia before these lands known as the Silver Marches were settled by humans, Tel'Quessir - that is, what the darthiir call themselves - and dwarvenkind inhabited the region as neighbors. From what the three have been able to infer, both realms found themselves facing up against an existential threat in the form of orcish aggression. 
The snow continues to fall, but less and less as the weeks go by. The icy waters of the Great Lake slowly thaws as spring's getting closer. It's still ways away and your tribe's running out of food though.
In the snowy tundra a small group of hunters slowly moves tracking a herd of raindeer.
The strong wind bites at your face as you grip your stone tipped spear, trying to ignore your sweaty palms. You have to bring meat to the tribe or die together.
What's your age, gender and name?
Who are your people?
>Long-men
Long Men are Homo sapiens sapiens, meaning they belong to our human species, in a slightly more archaic version that is usually referred to as Cro Magnon. They are from the Aurignacian culture and their craftsmanship is refined. Their stone, bone, and skin craft shows a great level of precision. They live in semi-nomadic settlements, in large, elaborate and comfortable huts that protect them from the harsh conditions of the ice age.These humans are robust and tall: 1m80 (men) and 1m65 (women). Most of the men and women of this people have come to live in the Tribe lands from the far lands of the rising sun, beyond the Icy Mountains, which is why their complexion usually goes from tanned to dark, their hair is black, and their eyes brown, black, or dark blue. These humans usually live in clans of 20 to 40 individuals.
Key Strengths of the Long Men: Choose either Hand of the Ancestors or Speed of the Horse.
>Bear-men
Bear Men are Homo sapiens neandertalensis, also called Neanderthal Men. The Long Men of the ice age world sometimes call them Trolls. These humans are very robust. Their bones are thick and they possess a great physical strength due to muscle joints that sometimes differ from ours. They are small, the average male size being roughly 1m65, the average female 1m55. They have unusual facial features: powerful jaws with no chin, a long and wide nose, and a supraorbital torus forming an impressive brow ridge above the eyes. Built to whistand the cold climate of the Tribe Lands, these men and women have an exceptional resistance to the harsh conditions.
Key Strengths of the Bear-men: Choose either Strength of the Bear or Heart of Ice.
Lastly choose two additional Strenght's:
> Hand of the Ancestors
> Majesty of the Aurochs
> Secret of the Bear
> Strength of the Bear
> Knowledge of the Beaver
> Might of the Bison
> Song of the Blackbird
> Flight of the Crow
> Rise of the Eagle
> Breath of the Giant Stag
> Speed of the Horse
> Agility of the Ibex
> Heart of Ice
> Fury of the Lion
> Reflexes of the Lynx
> Softness of the Otter
> Sight of the Owl
> Wisdom of the Mammoth
> Eye of the Panther
> Magic of the Rhinoceros
> Inspiration of the Rocks
> Flame of the Salamander
> Fins of the Salmon
> Grace of the Swan
> Venom of the Viper
> Protection of the Vixen
> Cunning of the Weasel
> Nose of the Wolf 
You find yourself sailing upon a sea of molten red; an odor strong and metallic that burns your nose and lungs, a brightness that blinds the eye and hurts the mind. It sears brands upon your face and chains upon your body; a steel-gray shell, an iron ship, is all that stands between you and the burning lake. You have not come here by choice, but there is also no way back; you must continue forth, and see the river clear, yet the journey is so long, and the path there so unclear.
Worst of all, you do not pass here alone.
These mighty colossi, formless and bare, they wade through the fires, they march there upon you, like moving mountains of brick and stone. Their faces, if they be faces, remain hidden from your gaze; their eyes, if they be eyes, remain far beyond your sight. They hold hammers upon their arms, and raise them. They seek to sink you? Has death grasped your soul at last? You feel an impact that shakes the teeth, so hard your vision blurs. Their hammers had fallen upon your ship, side by side in perfect symmetry. Your sight dims again, and you feel another shake. Their soundless blows rain upon your vessel, deforming it, caving it ever more so; what had brought you to these fates? Yet they hammering holds no malice. Their touch, though rough, bears no malice; their hands, though heavy, seek to destroy not, but to shape it to greater heights, like a smith upon his forge.. They wish to forge it, then? To mold your raft into a vessel, a galleon standing proud? You know not, care not, think not of such grand designs! You know only of your fate, your current fate, your roiling fate. You grasp your arms around the mast, hoping you will not be thrown off and burnt into an withered ember! For now, you must hold, hold to your life, hold on tightly!
You hold on tightly.
You hold on tightly..
You hold on tightly...
... 
January 9th, 199X
It has been almost a week since the CCCP was dissolved by the General Secretary, with a large majority of the various ethnic republics formed in the aftermath of the Great Patriotic War by imported populations having gained their independence. Their journeys to statehood have been long awaited by their peoples. However, in the general confusion and chaos which followed the collapse of one of the world's superpowers, one region within the malaise was forgotten. Unclaimed by almost every other group, at least by virtue of no real historical claim to what had been Russian land for centuries.
Oskovia.
Having been established for the Oskov peoples, themselves descendants of Slavic tribes which had inhabited the Urals before the very concept of Russia existed or the Mongols rode their armies from the east, the Oskovia CCP had been a prosperous but small republic in comparison to their immediate and surrounding neighbors. For as long as the CCCP had existed, there were no issues with any in the region. Now, this has changed.
For the first few days, the regional government was silent on the matter of the entire west of the country splintering into ethnic republics. The Belarusians, Ukrainians, Kravo, Gorodniks, Cossaks in the south and a number of others all broke off from the Union; leaving Oskovia completely alone and independent as a result of broad language, and as many would come to find out, the very local party deciding to pick up and leave back for Moskva.
What local apparatchiks remained scrambled to figure something out, and that's where you come in. You, whoever you may have been in your previous life, doesn't matter. You have been selected to form the Central Committee of the Emergency Crisis Council, the de facto governing body of what is being called the Republic of Oksovia. Never mind that no elections have been held, and that no one within the nation asked for it to be created.
The only question now, is what is to be done? 
Nocturne for the Damned
ACT I – The Unseen Ledger, page 1
The lamps along the street sputtered under the thickening fog, their flames dimmed to sullen embers. Windows along the boulevard glittered with light and laughter, but behind every curtained veil, a ledger was kept — invisible, meticulous, merciless.
"Every pleasure tallied. Every deviation remembered."
The mist creeps low around your boots as you walk with your collar turned high, the taste of wet stone sharp on your tongue. The gaslights sputter and hiss above, their glow struggling against the gloom, gilding the marble columns and ironwork balconies in a sickly, shifting halo.
Somewhere nearby, a musician saws a mournful tune from a battered violin. The notes drift through the fog, warping into something cracked and broken before reaching your ears. Perfume and coal smoke tangle in the air, masking the more honest scents of rot, iron, and old blood.
Carriages roll past in steady procession, wheels throwing up muddy fans of water onto the cracked stone. The passengers inside wear painted smiles and jewel-toned silks, but their eyes — when they dare to glance at you — are hollow, distant, hungry.
One carriage slows as it passes. Behind its glass, a pale figure presses her hand to the window, her fingers delicate and gloved, her expression hidden by a lacquered mask. A child's mask, you realize — frozen in a rictus grin.
"Is it warning... or farewell?"
You tighten your grip on your coat and keep walking.
Above, the rooftops groan as something moves through the mist, too swift and sure to be the wind. The corner of your eye catches a glint — polished glass, perhaps a monocle — and the flutter of a long coat as a figure slips from one eave to another. Watching. Always watching.
The bells of Marrowgate sound the hour, a long, wheezing groan that shudders through the stones beneath your feet. A reminder: Curfew is near. Eyes are everywhere.
"You are weighed," the signs say, gilt letters flowing like blood in the lamplight. "You are watched. You are wanted." You're Birdarak, the half dire crow half giant spider chimaera.
You were flying around looking for your next prey when you sighted something that caught your eyes: a tribe of humanoid creatures.
Pondering that perhaps you could acquire your sustenance more easily if you made them look for it for you, you decided to approach the creatures and become their master!
What kind of creatures were those?
> humans
> orcs
> elves
> lizardmen
And how do you approach them?
> kill their leaders in mortal combat
> claim to be a deity and demand worship and offerings of food
> offer to become the protector of their land in exchange for a tithe
> capture an infant, hide and train it to be your emissary 
PART 1/2
It's pouring down on the city streets of Gotham. The nighttime atmosphere harbors all kinds of unsavory types in this city. Pimps, thugs, madmen, those who do crime just to survive, and everything in between these people. You're at the theatre, just a boy. A stage play of 'The Legend of Zorro' is enacted in front of you and the rest of the surrounding audience. You felt quite sickly all day leading up to coming here, the rain and cold air hampering you on your journey to the theatre in the first place only accentuates that feeling in you. You cough and your mother rubs your hand, your father on the other side asks if you're feeling alright. Though your complexion is faint from an oncoming fever, you do your best to play it off, it doesn't work and both your parents resolve to leave the theatre.
These moments have been replayed in your never-ending nightmares as if someone was holding the loop button when you lay your head to rest.
You all make it outside and try to quickly find the fastest route to where your father parked. Crime Alley.. it has it's name like that for a reason, to go any other way around would be to risk everyone else getting sick in the process from the added time it would take to make it back. Your father and mother both hold your hand.
"It's going to be ok, Bruce. This will only take a second", they both say to you smiling.
You nod feeling a slight warmth in their reassurance. In your dazed, sleeping state, you grit your teeth. You've been through this thousands of times, this is where it all started.
Your parents, and yourself slowly trudge through this dangerous area carefully. There are some homeless in the close vicinity, but for the most part it seems safe. As you near the end, a semi-shadowed figure steps out from behind the corner of the exit to the alley.
"E-everything.." he stutters. Holding a gun up to your father with a shaking hand. His pupils are dilated, he's nervous, inexperienced.
"Ok, ok.. nothing has to happen here", your father replies. Both your parents raise their hands in the air, letting go of yours in the process.
The man looks at you for a brief second, then back at your parents. "Wayne's.. you're the goddamn Wayne's!" He shouts, perking himself up. "I w-want everything you have, money, jewels, w-whatever!" He says.
"That's fine", your father leaves one hand up and makes a reach to his side pant pocket with the other one. "This is all I ha-", a police siren wails from a nearby street. The robber is thrown into a paranoid panic.
*BANG BANG*
His handgun explodes with noise, gunning down your father first. Grunts of pain escape his mouth as he lays there on the ground. Your mother screams, going to cover you from the gun.
*BANG BANG CLICK*
Two more shots before the gun empties. Your mothers' body falls after a few brave, pride filled seconds of trying to keep her stance. The man rips her pearl necklace off her neck as she begins to hurtle towards the paved ground. 
Welcome back.
Seeing as we got cut short last time I am going to start off with the final update from Thread 12 and include the update I had planned for the day the site went down at the very end. So if you want to skip the 'recap' and get right to the new vote you can scroll to the bottom.
Past Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Gotham%20City%20Beat%20Cop%20Quest
=====
"Kimble, toss me the shotgun. I'll pull guard while you head up first, then the Warden'll follow after you, then Hawthorne." You state confidently with a hand extended.
"You can't be serious, I-I'm handcuffed!" The warden shouts at the same time.
"Yer hands are in front of ya, quit whining." Hawthorne barks, shaking his head. Kimble, however, looks at you with a raised brow.
"You sure?"
"You've got the most experience. At least I'm guessing." You turn to the warden. "Which is exactly why you'll be following him. Anything goes wrong he's your best chance at getting saved and with Hawthorne right behind, I think you'll be shocked how easy it is to get up that ladder."
"And if you do anything slick you'll have a long time to regret it on the way down." Hawthorne growls.
The warden gulps quietly and nods his head. You accept the weapon from Kimble and toss the sling over your shoulders and get used to the weight of it. "Any quirks I should know about?"
"It's got slugs in the tube, so if you have to shoot.. y'know. Aim."
"I'll try." You state as you check your sight picture.
You all stand there, outlined in dim moonlight, dark silhouettes on the edge of Blackgate. Yourself on the edge of something, at least you have a lingering feeling you will be. You push that feeling and your thoughts on the mysterious vortex away as you take your place by the door, weapon in hand, and Hawthorne looses a gravely order.
"Get ready, Kimble. Don't let this softbody fall."
"Wouldn't dream of it." Kimble replies with a dry bite.
You hear the clatter but only allow it a brief glance as the aluminum rungs of the rope ladder drag across the rough roof. Kimble takes a few steps and hops up, grasping a high to mid-bar and ascending, the warden hesitates for a few seconds before you hear a dull thud and a hiss of pain.
"Move your ass." Hawthorne barks, followed by the haphazard scuffing of shoes and punctuated by a shrill exclamation as the warden manages to grab a bar and slowly begind to pull himself up.
"Running out of roof here, Kimble." Hawthorne shouts, you can't help but notice how much closer he is to you now than a few moments ago.
"Get.. the..fuck... UP!" Kimble spits through gritted teeth as his fingers close around Quinn's tie and he pulls with all his force. 
You are a DRAKEHEAD SKELETAL CHARYBDIS - a person reincarnated as a monster in the fantasy world of ALTERORBIS.
You have wandered the lands, completing quests and fighting both mighty and weak foes, levelling up and evolving into a greater being.
In more detail, in the previous thread you:
>helped protect a bone scout expedition while they looted a fortress
>almost got betrayed by the same bone scouts afterwards but convinced them to uphold their end of the deal - granting you the ability to speak
>found a sacred spring in a forest and almost got killed by the local elf woman
>died to a swarm of undead bees and accepted a quest from the gods to kill a Marebito - another reincarnator - in exchange for less severe penalties from respawning
>got the reward for dealing with the Mad Wizard a while ago - an Epic armour from Arthur the Reaper's stash
>travelled through the Cursed Bog under the guidance of Arta - a woman addicted to local fruit that shortens the lifespan
>delivered the Witch's Hat that you found a while ago to Lily Arante - a witch living at the centre of the Bog
>learned about a scholar from the Riverlands that may know how to deal with the cheat skills of the Marebito you're meant to kill
>convinced the witch to join you in your travels in a couple weeks
>dealt with a Dead Eater ambush
>recovered some of your memories at a shrine and found the Ruined City of Luce
>killed the twin wyrms in the Dragon Cemetery, obtaining [Wyrmscale]
>negotiated with a village by the mountains to kill a roc terrorizing an area nearby
>died to said roc and faced the full penalties of resurrection
>travelled through the Mountains of Doom and found Sirens' Home
>killed a few sirens to complete the quest and found their artifact under a waterfall
>evolved into a Drakehead Skeletal Charybdis
Currently, you are in a cave in the mountains. Having just evolved, you have unlocked the ability to claim a NAME for yourself.
Previous threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Monster%20Reincarnation
Character info: https://files.catbox.moe/xbf2my.txt It's not easy exactly being a saiyan, especially what is called a low-class child. You were just sent out to another strange world far from that you called home and had to deal with both weird water and some big monster that you just barely managed to beat. Even now you're still feeling a lot of hurt over most of your body. Especially your legs.
Ah yeah. Now. There's this tall but thin man with short but smooth flowing black hair that apparently took you into whatever this weird brown place inside is. Sitting on some kind of weird 4-legged thing that on second look actually looks like it was made for sitting? He's not gotten up yet but is looking right at you with a pointed finger and speaking in gibberish that you can't- 
The bad-ass adventures of two losers under the great big Arceusdamn ball of fire.
====================================
"Dan?"
"Yeah?"
"I think we're gonna die out here."
"Yeah."
====================================
HANGOVER: Lisa: The Timeless OST - Allsides (OST Version) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CdtYefRxPc
When early SUNROSE appears with rosy fingers and pokes you right in the eye...
You wake up with a burgeoning headache and the most peculiar sense of déjà vu.
A warm sunbeam is shining through the cheap plastic window blinds and directly onto your face, teasing you like a beautiful woman away from the pleasant noise of your dreams. You grimace and shut your eyes tighter.
Perhaps if you keep your eyes closed for a little while longer, the unpleasant morning sun will vanish and the comfortable duskiness of the room will return to engulf you once more, just as a shroud of leaves is draped around a Swadloon. Your room, a fortress against all that is sadness and misery. That sounds good.
You turn to your side and pull your blanket over your head. You start to feel better, but not much.
Then there is a sound. A real sensation, drawing you further away from your ideal state. Damn.
Someone is moving around the room at an agitated pace. There's only one other person who lives with you. And now even through this haze of blood alcohol, you sense the faintest tendrils of that familiar psychic presence tapping insistently at the eggshell-thin walls of your mind.
And most unwisely, you tap back.
You know Garcian Smith as a a lot of things. He's a liar. He's a scoundrel. He's an asshole. He's a knight of the body. He's your shadow. He is your best friend and your brother. You'd say a lot more about him but the most important thing you can say right now is that you both drank way too much last night.
<Hey Dan.> His mental "voice" echoes dully through your collective inebriated haze.
<Hey Garcian,> you "say." You hiss in regret for responding with thought; it's too late now. With Garcian unable to regulate his telepathic connection, your headache starts to explode behind your eyes as you try to block out the impressions of things you really don't want to see/hear/feel/think about at all. An intoxication psychic feedback loop. All you can get out of the stream of foreign-garbage-thought-feedback-noise is
Pulse Landlord Dark Find Search Run Hide
Trash Hate Regret Hound Smoke Scum Fear
Backup Seek Urgent Candy Bark Terror Impulse
Trainer Look Wake Need Grab Touch Vomit
You groan. It's impossible to make sense of the ocean of words forming noise in your head. You terminate the psychic connection and wrap yourself up tighter. The day may have just started but you're more pajama than man at this point.
Goodnight again, SUNROSE. You saw its orange light for just a moment, maybe you'll see it again tomorrow... 
You've always longed to be reincarnated into another world, have an unfair cheat skill, and be surrounded by beautiful women in skimpy outfits.
Your name is John Doe— and the fantasies that so many desired were a reality for you.
You were even able to find purpose and dedicated yourself to something you loved to do— building.
Giving idle materials shape, seeing machines come to life with a whizz or a whir or the hiss of steam was something you'd never regret. Work was difficult, and took time, but it was all worth it in the end when seeing a new creation. Also you were reincarnated with cheat powers: You were what this world called a Savant— an engineer that could instinctively, since birth, understand and create special items called artifacts as well as construct impossible machines; mechas and clockwork robots and walking pieces of artillery were a common sight the land where civilization crept in and inevitably brought in Savants with it.
Steampunk was the norm in this world. The 'tags' that held reality together made it stay that way. Steam power was the most useful energy source in this universe, though you entertained thoughts of making combustion engines instead of steam ones— dragging the world into a dieselpunk era— but you haven't experimented with much other than electrical currents and steam.
Also something to note, in this world harems and slavery were commonplace. The happiness women had from being slaves was all thanks to the influence and masochistic fetishes this world's foremost creator had: The Goddess of Artifice and Creation herself, Herta.
She also happened to be your wife, the first of seven others, and the one you 'kidnapped' from the Heavenly Realm. Her only desire is to be used and abused by your body and words. Despite how arrogant, stupid, and reckless she could be, she also happens to be the woman you trusted and loved the most in this world, always been at your side helping and devoting herself to you.
Anyway, you have a total of seven women in your harem— all of them your 'slaves'. Because of Herta both consciously and subconsciously influencing the moral values of this world (a concept that hasn't fully processed in your mind), and because the gender ratio was skewed to have more women than men, there was no shortage of eager ladies willing to serve men.
Actual chattel slavery was looked down upon. This crime, among others, and anything that went against the Bondage Accord, were fought against. But more serious threats were treated with much more seriousness— 'mental corruption' being a constant threat. Many organizations around the world actively fought against these evils. It was a staple of life at this point— taking the form of Adventuring Guilds and the Knightly Orders— these organizations acting with enough autonomy to cooperate.
But that's all besides the point. Right now you were in the merchant city of Centria, visiting the relatives of your kitsune wife. 
Previous chapters: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Heretic%20Cultivator%20Quest
MC info Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/x5rCdZpq
Sect/ disciple info Doc: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1A0Yghkqs4WxALnnlVJ2uPpphQk9NQ4ME32DzC1qWp7Q/edit?usp=sharing
Folklore: https://pastebin.com/AnbsrDcd
_
Today is truly a monumentous occasion, not only because it is one of the blessed days the palace of natural laws sect's tournament is being hosted, or because you've trained a bunch of toddler moon rabbits to be ready to cultivate years before any human kid could, or even because five colors came to visit and knock some sense into the five fallen dieties before they did something foolish like try to kill your, or even that you learned humans could be turned into cats if they were lucky enough to have the right spiritual root and physiques. No, today was especially important because the Thousand Lotus Hall sect had joined the Tomb, The Mountain, and The sea alliance, turning it into The Tomb, the mountain, the sea and the garden! And besides that, more exciting, was that it looked like the last few rounds of the foundation establishment realm martial arts contest would all be your disciples.
A sect wide achievement that would surely improve your temple's reputation as one of the most fierce. It isn't too surprising, either, since your students have cut their teeth and honed their claws fighting fierce ghosts and the other sects present in real, lethal combat before. And of course, their techniques, martial styles and talents are nearly unheard of in this era. Once more, like the master, the element of surprise and the unknown abilities they posses and train and hone is one of their greatest advantages
And, sure, you might drift off and nap for a few of them, knowing almost instinctively which disciple will beat who in any match up since you've trained them all and know pretty much all the tricks they keep up their sleeves and the levels they've trained and refined their technique and sorcery, but you do try to pay attention to the spars you haven't seen yet closely and to commentate excitedly for the duels that aren't as one sided as say, Huli verses the incredibly unfortunate wooden style rogue he got set up against after his first round win against Hong.
Qinxin and Ping, for example is most exciting, as the two are well informed of the others styles and have fought side by side often but never against eachother. That match comes down to Ping's ghost qi infused arm granting him a slight advantage over the former Ling subordinate, as well as the white haired monk's secret of an unbeating heart, which he uses to trick Qinxin into believing he struck him dead from a wild desperation attack of one of the Guardians of celestial sunlight's sword techniques, which Ping uses to catch him unaware and nearly blow his sword arm off with a cleverly used dying grudge shield barrier spell.
Cont 
You resume your journey as Courier 6, heading up the fractured region of the Mojave.
‘Hail the Courier! Rejecting Caesar, House and the NCR, the Courier has used Yes Man to rule New Vegas, putting the Mojave itself under your watchful rule. You've thrown General Oliver himself from Hoover Dam, and sent Legatus Lanius to retreat with your wit and tact. Mighty and strong, you set out to establish this new wasteland experiment.
The first weeks of your rule have been dealing with unruly NCR companies, a medical crisis and looming starvation for all of Freeside. There are increasing bandit attacks across all of the Mojave with the evacuation of NCR forces and a consolidation of Securitrons around New Vegas.
But all is not despair. The Courier, with assistance from his loyal companions, managed to swiftly cut the head off of the Fiend snake, killing Motor Runner and his lieutenants, sealing up Vault 3 in the process.
A provisional council has also been formed, pulling the most competent and loyal from the Courier’s social circle to create the beginnings of an actual government.
While the food shortage is daunting and there is much to be done, the Courier is beginning to get his arms around this governing business. The immediate crisis has passed, now it’s a long road until the Mojave can rival the Bear and the Bull.’ >It is the year 70 of the Cosmic Era calendar.
[ https://files.catbox.moe/urujvg.mp3 ]
[I]After Fifty five years of the Confession of George Glenn's ancestry as the first coordinator in Human History.[/i]
Seventeen years after his assassination by suspected Religious and Genetical-purist extremists spurned by the deadly S-Influenza's virus death-toll being few amongst the coordinator race.
Twenty-Six years after the foundation of the PLANT colonies, wherein most Coordinators reside after unforetold violence and hatred befell on them and their genetically-altered birth.
And... 
The year is 1990. In 1989, the Soviet Union launched a lightning war on NATO. In just a few months, they managed to seize Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Iceland, as well as all of the Rhine–Meuse–Scheldt Delta and a part of Bavaria. Desperate, NATO signed a white peace, allowing the USSR to hold onto their freshly gained territories. It wouldn’t last long, however.
After being unable to prove themselves sufficiently to their allies, America loses the confidence of their overseas allies, and drifts into isolation, leaving NATO. In the wake of Russian overextension, the world market collapses, and the Soviet Union fragments, as does the rest of Eastern Europe.
The Berlin Wall falls, but each side meets the other with arms, wanting to shape the country in their image. Due to the lack of western unified strength, no one country stands ready to restore order, and all of Europe lights ablaze. NATO can only interdict, their own squadrons being insufficiently sized to project power over every theater. Russia is stuck reorganizing itself, entire divisions and air wings go rogue, for one reason or another. Border conflicts are small, but the age of the jet continues to change everything.
Most smaller air forces are insufficient, allowing mercenary groups to pop up in every conflict, acquiring planes from derelict stockpiles the world over. You were in flight lessons at the time, with dreams of flying commercial. With the market crash, however, your eyes drift to the news coming out of the skies of Europe.
You could’ve chosen any other life, been a good husband to any, worked any other honest job. But you differ from your peers, a young man, in search of glory and wealth. You take newspaper clippings and any information you can get on how to get into the fight. It’s taken some time to finally get your instrument rating and hours, the basic requirement for any mercenary air wing in need of warm bodies to put in cockpits, but you’re finally ready. With your loans weighing the back of your mind, you prepare an application packet, and hope they’ll take you.
Name
>[Write-In]
Nationality
>[American]
>[English]
>[West German]
>[Russian]
Conflict
>[Central Europe]
>[Balkan]
>[Nordic]
>[Baltic]
Alignment
>[NATO-backed]
>[WARPAC Remnants]
>[Rogue Nation] You are Kline Bueller, and you and your companions are currently facing a group of violent gang hellbent on making your life miserable and wanting you all dead.
"By the gods," Hilana practically pales at the sight of the masked men with weapons. "This is the worst possible situation we're in."
"And they are?" You ask her, nervously. Your see Hilana gripping the hilt of her weapon tightly, taking a step back
"The Scarlet Masks. They are vicious berserkers who love to fight and kill just for the sake of it. They are not pushovers." The princess shakes her head and stares at you. "We need to do something now."
The group of masked men continue to march in your direction, and Verna is still babbling nonsense, her face still having a dazed expression.
What do you do?
>Brace yourselves for a fight
>Get the hell out of there
>Search for any hiding places After the success of operation Redonia the Bludonians have managed to repulse the foreign invader from their lands. After a peace treaty affirming the status quo ante bellum with some concessions being given to the Bludonians in the form of war reparations.
The Redonians now teetering on the edge of bankruptcy have moved to take the resource rich lands of lower Brunn to revitalize their economy and save the nation from collapse. You a proud member of the RAF<<Redonian Armed Forces>> have been tasked with dealing the first blow against the BRG <<Brunnish Republican Guard>> and make way for the invasion of the Low Brunnlands.
Standby for mission objectives. "And when he woke up...
the dinosaur was still there."
August lifted his copious eye-brows, and the imps of evil stared, expecting another word, both being completely paused in time with a yearning silence. The mask of seriousness fell off his lips the moment he doubted of how much said conclusion weighted.
"And that, ladies, was the shortest tale in the world; The dinosaur."
The thick fingers shook off the hoarded ashes from the cigarette. Perhaps now with that off the way, the bitches of the night will eat him apart; the question would be, is that a punishment, or the reward?
[B] Roll 1/20 to see how well landed the wee lil' tale [/B] 
1st & 2nd thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Halo:%20Spartan%202%20War%20Reports
_
Sven-033's Qualities: [Special] Giant, Maverick, Officer, Wunderkind, Inspiring
Sven-033's Advancement Paths: Brawler 3/10, Bulwark 2/10, Grenadier 2/10| Diplomat 1/6, Infiltrator 1/6| Jötunn 1/4
Sub Objective Progress: Artificial Artisan 1/?
_
Current Mission: MISSION 2: Operation: FLY-SWATTER
Primary Objective: Neutralize hostile Covenant Vessel, ???, ??? Class, ??? Pattern, ??? designation
Secret objective 1: [File Encrypted]
Secret objective 2: [File Encrypted]
Secret objective 3: [File Encrypted]
_
Mood Music: https://youtu.be/kjmu5bj5yBA
_
Things were about to get really dicey. You had to act with utmost caution. What you were about to do was extremely risky, failure meant death but success...success meant so much more. Capturing a covenant ship intact, this early in the war, would be an immense victory for humanity's war effort and understanding of her genocidal foes. You laid out the framework of a plan, to ensure the safety of your squad as you attempted to reason with the kind of AI employed by a society of genocidal zealots
"Proceed with setting the Charges, rendezvous with the rest of the squad at the provided NAV-Marker. Shouldn't be any resistance left in your way" You say, putting on the airs of a confident and assured officer commanding something so easy it might as well be shore leave "We've secured a way out of here, hurry to evac location and salvage whatever enemy equipment you can carry, and prepare for extraction"
You snap your fingers and motion towards Vinh and Shika, feeling better and more positive about your incredibly risky plan by the second.
"Shika, Vinh, sweep the bridge, take those rifles and anything that looks valuable or important, along with our prisoner. Grab any weapon you can from our previous engagements, and make sure Wick's gets home. Hold the escape pod and keep it warm for John and Co's arrival" You order as you approach the largest and most important looking console screen on the covenant vessel's bridge "I'm going to do something that's either going to win me a promotion or earn me the Butt Chewing of a lifetime"
"What are you doing?" Vinh asked, as nervous as a Spartan could be, watching the three minute timer tick down in the corner of her HUD
"Sven stuff" Shika answered with a shrug "Just go along with it"
"Seeing if the AI on board is more polite than its crew" You answer, and crease your brow as you realize immediately you have no way of contacting it through the bridge's terminal. You and no other human has any idea how to make a Covenant Computer interface work.
But there is a universal language, that you're confident the artificial intelligence or intelligences would understand and notice. Binary. The Covenant's computing systems might not be constructed from ones and zeroes, but any software should understand a message delivered in that format.
Cont 
The city of Bordèu stirs, all its citizens are out in force, they march towards the cathedral of St Andrew, heeding the summons of a king.
A fortnight ago the King of Valland called a parliament in Bordèu. He stirs trouble, Bordèu and surrounding lands—indeed, the whole province of Guyenne—belongs in fief to his distant cousin, the King of Angla.
Oh but we are getting ahead of ourselves. You are not here for the politicking of the high nobility, you are here for your own reasons. Remind me where you come from. Remind me of your oath.
>Angla
>Almain
>Montera
—
>As a young squire, you and your master were prisoners awaiting ransom. Your cruel captor left your master's wounds untreated, causing his death. Being of little value, your captor mockingly knighted you in his dungeon, he mistreated you and always made you thank him for his "generosity”. As his final act, he threw you out with only your clothes and a chipped sword. His men laughed from the walls: "Go on then, Ser Knight." They likely think you dead by now, but you remember your oath.
>Born an orphan, your miserable life changed when you met Fostin the Grey, a traveling Dwergz. Eccentric compared to all his kind, he and his company took you in. They taught you everything, made you someone, all without asking anything in return. Fostin was old by the reckoning of his people and time catches up with everyone, even those of the elder races. On his deathbed, you swore to return his clan's hammer to his children in the Pyren Mountains. You remember your oath.
>You were always equal parts poet and knight. A Troubadour as one would say in Guyenne. And in your homeland there was a particular lady who you were high in standing with, an heiress with too much wealth and too much love of song and romance. You got carried away, promises were uttered and deeds were done. A landless knight is no proper match for a heiress, she was imprisoned in a convent by her family. You on the other hand were hunted. But you shall return, you remember your oath. 
With the majority of the Seventh Universe united under the banner of the PTO, Emperor Cooler at its head, the universe has known a time of unrivaled peace. But in the shadows threats have been growing, nursing grudges against the PTO and the Saiyan race in particular. And now those threats are rising, stepping out of the shadows to openly challenge the established order. Seeking nothing short of the destruction of New Salda and the extinction of the entire Saiyan race, can you prevent this outcome? Or will the Saiyan race be reduced to nothing more than memories, their heroes nothing more than ink in the pages of the history books?
You the players will (most often) control Karn; wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul and hope of the entire PTO, not only the Saiyan race. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has grown in power and skill, overcoming the world-ending threats that have come for the Saiyans to become the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759. From the massive Covenant empire to demonic incursions, mad cultists to vengeful gods, none have been strong or clever enough to put down Karn for good. But will one man's power be enough to protect everyone from the rising threats? Or will death come from those who you least expect it from? Your choices may mean the difference between survival and extinction, so choose carefully.
Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM
Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice
>One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun
SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tndKYpPz2RU
REVENGE OF THE BODY SNATCHERS 
You are Cindy Moon; Warrior Priest of Khonshu, Ward of Ben Parker, Part-time local vigilante. And, just recently, you somehow obtained the title of "Slayer" from an ancient Vampire Lord with an evil agenda. Between going to school, fighting bad guys, wrangling an overeager sidekick and dealing with an insane amount of family drama, now you're expected to potentially help save the world! No pressure.
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Max%20Spider%20Quest
Last time: After accepting the help of Wilhelmina the Blood Witch, Cindy defeated her brother Ward, and not only managed to convince him to stand down, but got the rest of Monster Council to stop fighting each other, and instead direct their anger at the creature responsible for deceiving them all: Varnae, The First Vampire!
Thanks to her quick thinking, she and the council made it out of Varnae's trap in one piece, and reconvened at a tavern in Monster Metropolis. There, she learned that her new blue friend was actually a clone mashup of Beast and Wolverine, and that the mutant scientist (Hank McCoy) had offered his help to Varnae, Skul the Slayer, and the current ruler of Limbo, Belasco.
Now that they know who their enemies truly are, Cindy and her group devise a plan to appeal to the Kaiju King, in hopes that he can muster up an army for the battle to come.
Will the Kaiju King's help be enough to save the day? Is Cindy capable of slaying something as old and powerful as Varnae, or even Belasco? And why is a member of the X-Men lending aid to a bunch of monsters?
Find out more in the latest issue of…MAXIMUM SPIDER QUEST!
Rules:
Most dice rolls will be 1d100. Modifiers will be added depending on the situation or on the alien being used(Usually +10 or -10). Crit successes and crit fails apply. Crit fails can be overridden by crit successes, but crit failures cannot override crit successes.
How to Roll:
To roll dice, type “dice+1d100” in the options field without the quotations. To roll dice with positive modifiers, type “dice+1d100+modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number. To roll dice with negative modifiers, type “dice+1d100+-modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number.
Pastebins:
Character Sheet:
https://pastebin.com/1ZihFYSV
Equipment and Gear:
https://pastebin.com/WAhveFAd
Contacts:
https://pastebin.com/WdcFXD2s
10 Commandments of the Desperados:
https://pastebin.com/Qpr2jVPE
Costumes:
https://pastebin.com/5Jie54X2
The Huntsman’s Travel Guide:
https://pastebin.com/PU6LWsip
Upcoming Events in the Maximum Universe:
https://pastebin.com/DceSEjiR
Good luck and have fun! 
In the history of humankind, war has been a constant. Over resources, land or ideology, warfare has been the front at which humanity found itself time and time again. When dozens of atomic bombs peppered the United States of America in atomic hellfire more than 200 years ago, the world as it once was ended. Society and order ceased to exist, and anarchy reigned supreme. Some sheltered in Vaults, spared the worst of the suffering deep underground… or exposed to an entirely unprecedented form of it. In the ashes of the old world, a new one was born. The fledglings of humanity survived and forged a new world with brutal, unforgiving rules.
Raiding. Murder. Theft. Destruction. But also, hope. Hope that things could return to how they once were, or move in a new direction entirely, casting off the shackles of folly that led America to ruin. But with hope came fear and conflict, discontent and brutality. Every step taken was taken with bloody footprints. Because war… war never changes.
==============================
It’s no secret to anybody that the landscape of America changed dramatically after the Great War. New creatures emerged from the irradiated wastes, the land shifted and became filled with new plant life twisted and bent into strange shapes. Even the ground itself was altered in many places. In one such case, the Outer Banks of North Carolina became the shattered, flooded Broken Banks. Flotsam and wreckage littered amidst drenched islands and raft-masses, while the mainland’s coast was filled with all manner of blasted boardwalks, trading posts and shantytowns.
The further south a soul travels, the more flooded the land becomes. South Carolina is a mired, messy swamp patrolled only by the grandest of mirelurks and the most savage of tribes, while the untamed wilds of Florida boast drenchghoul cults and radgators of truly epic proportions. All in all, a severely inhospitable section of the wasteland. 
"You're not the first to come here. You won't be the last to disappear without a name or bones."
There is a hole in the world made of dust and blood. You came to the entrance. By choice? By desperation? It doesn't matter. Everything you were is behind you. Here, what matters is what you can bear to lose.
Choose the one who will carry the burden of descending.
>Lars, the Bear
"The skin is human. The roar is not."
No one knows where he came from — only that he descended from the mountains covered in scars and silence. He walks naked, immune to the cold. He fights with his bare fists and sleeps curled up. They say he is possessed. They say he is an animal dreaming it’s a man. Lars corrects no one.
>Skill: Grappling — Lars relies solely on brute strength and his own fists, scornful of weapons and armor. This unlocks grappling maneuvers, such as clinching, throws, and takedowns.
>Nature:
>Brave: Lars is tolerant of pain and difficult to frighten or intimidate; however, he believes himself to be immortal.
or
>Integrity: Lars is tolerant of pain and difficult to frighten or intimidate; however, he pursues the right thing and does his best to get others to do so as well.
>Motivation: During the night, demons climb the mountain to tear people apart. Now, as the nights grow longer, Lars hunts for the solution within Belarmino’s brutal lair... or perhaps he intends to devour him.
>Hal, the Hare
"She saw. No one else saw. She fled. No one else fled."
One day, someone loved her. A mage. A monster. He used her as a test subject for a spell that required forcefully opening the mind. After barely escaping the ordeal, Hal exiled herself indefinitely, fleeing from the aftermath of the spell.
>Skill: Cowardice — Hal can attempt to flee without using an action once per encounter, with an increased chance to escape traps and deadly encounters. Allies, however, will be left behind.
>Nature: Null Presence — She reduces the chance of random encounters when alone. Incapable of creating bonds, though.
>Motivation: To escape from her pursuer and seek liberation and spiritual asylum from a holy man.
>Anika, the Rosebed
"She was laughing when she was born — a satanic omen."
Born of a dead mother and a ray of light, Anika carries the gift of healing the living with light. The dungeon will try to corrupt her. Good luck with that.
>Skill: Miracle — Heals allies. However, doing so lights her up like a Christmas tree to supernatural entities. Some can be dangerous.
>Nature: Purity — She won’t cause harm to living beings and is resilient against corruption and possession.
>Motivation: Belarmino seeks her as an offering. She descends into the dungeon not to fight… but to try to save him from what he has become. 
As my pickaxe strikes the rockface, I can still feel my worn-out elbow bones grinding against each other - like sandpaper against sandpaper, even after upping my dose of Forza. The drug pumped through the filthy tubes jammed up what was left of my nose, thick as engine grease and burning twice as bad. The pain dulled, but never enough. Never enough to forget where I was. Upping my dose might do it, or changing its old tubes, if I could afford it. Just needed to break a bit more rock. Fill a few more carts.
It's darker than a heretic's soul down here, but that's how we like it. Less light means more promethium to pocket. Old tradition since Cheekbones' time. The Deacon hardly ever comes down this deep, and the Servitor assigned to our level is more machine than man now - lost his mind years back along with control of his nethers, like most. Even through my scarred-up nostrils and the tubes, I can still smell the shit and piss caked into his body hair from twenty paces.
"Hey, new blood," I whisper to the fresh meat they've dropped in our section. Poor bastard's shaking so bad he can barely hold his pick. "See how we're working with just half-lamps? That ain't official. We skim the fuel and split it end of shift. Keep your mouth shut about it and you'll get your cut, 'kay?"
A miner tradition since Cheekbones' times.
The new one nods, eyes wide. Most don't last more than a year or two down here. I've survived twenty-one. 
Your orphan ass is sitting in your living room, chowing on pizza and watching Netflix when suddenly your uncle, who is your adoptive guardian, bursts through the door, smearing bloody handprints across anything he touches "Holy shit" you say, watching as he takes step by agonizing step towards you, a sense of urgency in his piercing blue eyes, "you're getting blood everywhere. Auntie's going to be pissed."
"There's no time to clean up... I'm dying" he growls, going into a fit and coughing up blood all over his silver beard and gnarled hands. You notice that under his long grey trench coat there is a great gash in his clothes, with a mortal wound underneath which bleeds profusely.
"Oh... did you want me to get you a doctor... or a priest?" you offer politely.
"Listen to me... the world is being threatened by an evil force. In the past 1200 years, 12 incarnations of evil have attacked mankind. It has been 100 years since the last incarnation appeared. Do the math."
You quickly add up the numbers. "1312" you say.
"That's right, it's been 1300 years and 12 incarnations... the Thirteenth Apocalypse, the final, and most powerful of them all, is prophesied to appear. He has likely already entered our world, and is biding his time to make his presence known. Our family is from a long line of Watchers, your mother and father died to save your life. You are the last hope to save mankind."
"That sounds like the plot to an anime" you say, scratching your chin.
Your uncle glares at you for a moment, then continues. "The Thirteenth Apocalypse has one weakness, he can only be defeated by the family sword, which has been passed down from generation to generation" he says, then produces a katana from the folds of his trenchcoat, it is ornately decorated, with a rippling blade that resembles the flowing of water, refracting light into a rainbow cascade, and with a black hilt embossed with gold in the form of a dragon.
"Sweet sword... I didn't know we were Japanese"
Your uncle's stern eyes bore into you once more, silently judging you for a long while. 
Last thread, the Idol agency has been finally organized to run efficiently after a great meeting, you’re in the aftermath, preparing for the heist against the mafia. These are 2 unrelated events, but you combine them with your decisions. This is a stark reminder that you’re a man of many skills, not a person who can’t focus on the task at hand.
But you’re at an impasse. Your Bestie decided to pretend your plan isn’t your plan in the least subtle way imaginable, and was called out for it by Chio. When everyone else in the room realized that the ruse wasn’t a ruse, Amelia barged in to beg for the cookies your dear Clutz baked for you. Your sister was promptly kicked out. But the question still hangs up in the air…
“...Okay, everyone, I don’t want anyone to mention what happened to Ame. Understood? She’s going to try to stop me even if it’s true or not.” You ask Chio, Wilma, and Vortexia to be chill.
“Would she be successful at it?” Chio wonders if she can go for the neutral option.
“Don’t even think about it.” Wilma takes this very seriously.
“No one likes snitches.” Vortexia agrees.
“Not one bit.” You add.
“I-It wasn’t part of my plans, I wondered out of intellectual curiosity.” Chio changes her mind the minute you are against it.
“You’re not subtle at all…” Crossbill looks down on Mamariko.
“...Who are you to talk?” Wilma raises an eyebrow.
“C’mon, I said I was pulling your legs. You girls know my past and all. Joke didn’t land, it happens.” Crossbill won’t admit anything.
“I don’t believe you were kidding.” Vortexia can see through the politician’s bullshit.
“Sheesh, you’re turning me into a casual fan…” Crossbill doesn’t believe in the storm.
“I’ll take your heart back when you hear me singing!” Vortexia gets a little haughty. Chio appreciates the form, but she can see areas of improvement.
“We’ll see.” Crossbill goes back to bed to pretend to be ill… again.
This situation isn’t tense, but there are many unanswered questions. Do you like it when questions are unanswered? In their shoes, you wouldn’t. But how far will honesty lead you here? You gotta know what to do now.
What do you do?
>“Get your fat butt over here, Crossbill. Why are you back in bed? We have things to do.” Leave things unanswered and get out.
>“Yeah, the heist is real. We wanna prank the local mafia out. It’s important.” You’re going to clean up the streets by pissing off the criminals. What could go wrong?
>“Actually, I feel sick too…” Get in bed as well. You feel a fever… A *lazy* fever.
>Write In. 
The world ended less than a decade ago and you are in Nebraska. It ended during the new years and all technology is from before the end or is basically the level of the Amish.
The major cities are occupied by aliens. The rest of the country is crazy splatterpunks, paranoid survivalists, regular people, bughunting irregulars, and NORAD.
Nebraska is part of flatland, a geographical region. The local resources are corn, corn, corn, and corn. Also wheat, potaotes, and whatever is grown during crop rotations. So beans and peas, but maybe using less water.
New houses are made of Sod.
"Money" is generally precious metals, ammo, rations and preserved food, soap, fuel, and materials.
-
You are an amorphous blob of random people in the southwest corner of the state.
Your objectives are either to kill as many splatterpunks or bugs as possible, to approach a high standard of living, to form thriving community, or replace the last semi-banditry militia that just got wiped out.
Or perhaps restore the Union. Or some mixture. 
Jail Quest: a text adventure occasionally illustrated.
A night of drinking and a failed attempt to cheat on cards had landed you the strangest job slash community service sentence you've ever had: ensuring Gongalla Gaol survives the reality storm called Singularity.
Now you travel around with your employer and a handpicked crew to survey the four Reality Anchors. Hey, beats being tarred and feathered, right?
Previous thread:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6183794/
Gongallaverse:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Gongalla%20Gaol
You are Rosa Montagni, once again on the road towards the north of North. After that successful raid on the Singularity cultist cave, you've returned back to Pinewatch to tie up loose ends - one of which involves a bit of child actor kidnapping. Hey, he's affiliated with the cultists anyways, luring kids into the hands of the cultists. The other loose end is the 'sleeper' cultists still in town - but you captured them with the assistance of the burlesque theatre girls, whom you worked together to set a trap in a play they've always wanted. Cultists apprehended and delivered to the guildhall, Jed Stuart gives you the reward you seek - directions towards the North's reality anchor. Jed's info is way more detailed than Hammy's vague directions - and so you once again charter Lightning Ling's autowagon services. Which brings you to your current situation... 
The stillness of the void is disrupted by the appearance of a dilapidated cargo vessel, its prow streaming with plumes of fairie-fire from its jump.
Behind it the miraculous tear in space and time that humanity barely understands has already collapsed. Blessedly unwitnessed by human eyes.
Before the hull has even had a chance to cool it crashes into the veil of micro-debris kicked up by the nearby asteroid field, wherein lies its destination.
As thrusters burn to induce the vessel’s drift towards the mining outpost it was so suddenly instructed to divert towards, the scant handful of crew within begin to stir in their cryopods.
None of them know yet that this shuffle of their cargo run is likely to change their lives.
But that is for later, for now there are questions to be answered…
===
Greetings and welcome to The Haunting of Ypsilon-14, a One-Shot in the Mothership TTRPG system. This is a very deadly Sci-Fi Horror game, so brace yourselves!
Mothership is a roll-under d100 system. We’ll be doing Bo2 here, to soften the edge just a bit. Generally if you’re rolling dice it’s because you’ve fucked up or haven't planned well enough anyway. Doubles are crits, if they’re above the Stat/Save you’re rolling against then that’s a crit fail. If they’re below, that’s a crit success. Where skills apply, they raise your effective score by +10 for Trained, +15 for Expert, and +20 for Master (you can stack them if you’re clever).
There’s more, but we’ll cover it as we go.
=== 
“Kill the fifth columnist”. Those words are burned into your brain. Everyone were hoping he would make a change, finally stopping the war between the expedition crews and the different armed militias. Everyone grew tired of it, but no one wanted to stop first, as you both wanted to reach Nizhniy, the biggest city in the region, before the opposing team could. You were with one of such militias, calling themselves “The Renegades”, who made a mad dash towards the Volga in hopes of reaching the city, but were stopped in a small town by one of the expedition crews. Many men, women and children died in countless battles and raids, your group lost some of the most experienced fighters. But then…everything went silent. A member of the expedition crew proposed with a truce in order for everyone to reach Nizhniy safely. But “Post Office skirmish” happened, taking the life of Katerina. No one dared to speak about a truce after that. You pushed the expedition crew to the outskirts of town, hoping for a quick victory. But they fought back. They raided your homebase at the railroad station, killing your leader, forcing you to retreat. In the midst of battle you saw HIM with your own eyes, shooting down your people with his shotgun. He did not hesitate to kill, stomping the wounded with his boot, if they still tried to resist, while on the ground. You saw his eyes, and they were full of nothing, but primal rage.
When you were exhausted, laying on the floor, covered in blood of people who fought together with you, he came up to you, and you were ready to meet your fate. But he spared you, moved you into the corner of the room, away from the corpses, and went away. A lot of time passed since then. It is time to prove the “columnist” one thing.
He should have pulled the trigger 
Rules are simple: Votes are tallied every hour, with whatever course of action being the most popular being the course of action taken. Write ins are encouraged and non-mutually exclusive votes will be combined if possible.
When a roll is called for, roll however many D100 are specified. 5- is a 'crit fail' and generally means something bad is about to happen. 95+ is a 'crit success' and generally means something good just happened. a 'crit success' trumps a crit fail. User input on both will be taken into consideration.
Inventory, pokemon stats and other links: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15i2N08IpWqitoTJujsUMishe4PLbao1lqT-bCAmvPcE/edit
Discord: Rules are simple: Votes are tallied every hour, with whatever course of action being the most popular being the course of action taken. Write ins are encouraged and non-mutually exclusive votes will be combined if possible.
When a roll is called for, roll however many D100 are specified. 5- is a 'crit fail' and generally means something bad is about to happen. 95+ is a 'crit success' and generally means something good just happened. a 'crit success' trumps a crit fail. User input on both will be taken into consideration.
Inventory, pokemon stats and other links: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15i2N08IpWqitoTJujsUMishe4PLbao1lqT-bCAmvPcE/edit
Discord: https://discord.gg/v8nRWG4p
For a short summary for the new and to recap:
You are Alex. A newly minted trainer and camping enthusiast just starting out on your journey at the age of seventeen after your father lost his job in order to help pay the bills. On the road, you met Fie, the Fire Gym Leader, Gareth a novice Aura Guardian on pilgrimage and Holly, a runaway heiress using a pseudonym. You've also made enemies of Team Green a group of violent, radical activists looking to abolish pokemon training.
Recently, Fie returned to her gym for the time being.
Last thread, you caught a Rotom for the roadhouse nurse, had some lunch, meditated with Gareth, introduced Nika to battling and stopped a guy from bothering Martha by challenging him to a battle. Darkness.
You wake with your cheek pressed to wet stone. The air is thick with rot—human and otherwise. Your mouth tastes like iron and ash, your head rings with a pain that feels… old. Heavy.
You try to sit up. Your limbs respond slowly, as if they’ve forgotten how. The world tilts. Your stomach lurches, empty. You catch yourself against the wall—rough-hewn and damp with something foul.
The smell here is ancient: mold, sweat, shit, smoke. You are not alone, though you can’t see anyone. You can barely see at all.
There’s no light. No fire. Not even the ghost of moonlight. You’re deep—deep—underground.
Somewhere nearby, a rat skitters. A chain clinks. A voice coughs. But none of it feels… familiar.
Not this place.
Not your body.
Not even your own name.
You reach for something—anything—a scrap of memory, a face, a word. Nothing comes.
No.
Not nothing. There’s something there, clawing at the edge of your mind. A flicker. A sound. A smell. A name, half-spoken in a dream.
You just have to reach for it. 
"I took my first breaths long before there was rain."
-Unknown source, possibly an Astropath attached to the Xi-40 Explorator Fleet
This shouldn't be working. It's impossible for it to be working.
---
Read the previous threads at: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=False%20Woman
You possess an amount of Strain equal to your Conditioning score. When attempting actions beyond your current capacity, you gain a point of Strain. Attempting to Strain while at maximum Strain will result in a Strain Check. During a Strain Check, roll 1d10 for every point of the relevant Parameter. Results that are 6 or above count as one success. Results of 10 count as two successes. Three successes must be rolled to avert a critical failure. Fail or pass, after a Strain Check, you cannot Strain again until you restore your Strain by seeking shelter.
This quest allows you to designate a second-choice vote on decisions with three or more options before Write-Ins. When votes are totaled, the option with the least votes for it will be removed, with votes for that option instead being changed to the second-choice of those voters. Second-choice votes are also used to break ties. This helps increase the accuracy of votes, but is not mandatory. Please specifically mark your second-choice as such if you do so.
Vote stay open for a minimum of six hours, but will usually take longer.
A note: My writing style is pretty dry, but don't mistake that for it being serious. Previous threads can be found on archive.moe.
Recap:
>You are some weird fuckin' amphibian creature. You're stuck in some weird fuckin' prison of sorts.
>You've met a talking, walking artillery shell, by the name of Shelly. She has some sort of fear of chairs.
>You've also met a tall, puffy-haired dude named Jim, who's in the cell next to you. He says the only thing in his room is a big red button.
>Your goal? Figure out what's going on and then get the hell out of this place.
(1/3) 
Previous Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%202nd%20Primarch%20Quest
_
In the depths of the warp, two princes of daemon-kind uplifted and ennobled from human stock, one of the grandfather of plague's teeming brood and the other a prized son of the lord of excess, competed against one another to claim two prizes. A spirit descended from Isha and Kurnous' stock, and the branded head of the wandering dragon, the mist lurker, the truthseeker, Lieren. They flew to confront you, from the citadel they both claimed and held, each racing to beat the other to be the first to cross their blades with you and be the first to draw blood.
But as the corpse flower knight and swan knight both left their shared keep, you knew the departed souls of your friends and companions, the brave souls of heroes of Long-Jia and mankind, slipped through the defenses and walls of their fortress of pitted, rusted iron and mirror polished silver. And as you flew at your two enemies, upon a nimbus of the white wind of the empyrean Hysh, holding within one of your hands the paradox of emotion and rationality forged into a spear and in the other a joyful tear turned to a jade mercy, contained within the protocol taught to you by the long hidden wisdom of the old ones, you considered the most efficient means to distract these anomalously brotherly wicked spirits of two of the six competing discordant courts.
The progeny of Na Gou, lurched up a stairway formed of crawling slime molds and withering rotten spines, donning a heavy armor over their body of bones entangled into creeping vines and roots. The scion of Se Nie, however, flew upon deceptively pristine and fair wings. The Swan knight would reach you first. And that was a obstacle in your plan. They both needed to be near so they both may be caught in a mist of true and honest mercy and innocent joy. Both of which were deadly poison to the black natured spirits of chaos. But that complication was easily resolved.
"Fly, oh cloud of purity" You whisper and urge to the nimbus of light you stand astride upon "Fly and bring me to the shadows who bring gloom and corruption to all they touch"
Upon your command, the white wind beneath your feet sword, shooting through the ever changing skies of the empyrean realm like a bolt of lightning. The swan knight's wing spread and they turned, adjusting their trajectory as you shot past them but out of reach
"See, oh swan of the lakes of debauchery! The panther child seeks their doom by my hand and hammer!" The corpse bloom knight chortles and warbles as you fly closer to them, then with a sudden change of the position of your feet within the nebula of pure light, curved your path over their head and out of reach of their swinging hammer and the groping molds that sprung from its cracks like weeds in a garden
Cont 
Ten years ago King Aiden Perenolde betrayed the Alliance and sided with the Horde of Orgrim Doomhammer. Nine years ago Prince Alric Perenolde, the second heir of Alterac was sent into exile for his own protection. This exile turned permanent and Captain Normand Garside, your guardian for the past nine years made sure that you were safe and learned the useful skills that would help you in the future.
Now you are ready to carry the responsibility and unite the scattered Alteraci people and reclaim the lands that were once the Kingdom of Alterac.
For Eligius the past several days have been rather dreary days. Since revealing to others that he is in fact a warlock, he has been forced to be more on his toes than before. And when they got into Strahnbrad, Pai decided that their cover story would that of a married couple, and of course later that night she tried to get close to Eligius. That didn’t work to Pai’s disappointment as Eligius was revealed to have the fear of being touched. Now the unlikely duo have enlisted themselves to help the Syndicate in Strahnbrad as things there are going to get more busy.
For Malevus the campaign has been full of work. To bury and bless the dead according to the rites and rituals of the Church. To console those who are dying or have lost their friends. To heal and patch up those who will survive their wounds. The work she did wasn’t easy and she knew that more work would be ahead of her. At least she managed to acquire an assistant that lifted a bit of work from her shoulders.
For Alric the campaign has been full of fighting and marching through the ancient forest. Battling both the gnolls and the influence of Fel, Alric metaphorically knee deep in dead gnolls and blood carved a path of Total Gnoll Death through Durnholde. He fought against a gnoll mage and its warband in the north, he brought the Alteracis against gnolls in the clearing and burned them all alive. Hundreds of gnolls dead for very few of his own at the end of the day.
And now he is ready to finish the job.
Welcome to Alterac Resurgent Quest!
…
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MedivhQM
/qst/ Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Alterac%20Resurgent%20Quest
Prince Alric Stats: https://pastebin.com/rysxdRsv
Quest Mechanisms: https://pastebin.com/CyD88qqf
Character List: https://pastebin.com/FkYd6wkJ
Side Character Stats: https://pastebin.com/aRfyksUG You step into the sand-filled shoes of Courier 6 on the eve of the second battle of Hoover Dam. Your plan is to single-handedly kick the two powers out and create the society New Vegas deserved. This is a soft reboot of the same quest from 2021 that can be partially found on SupTG and moe.
Much like a first love, I could never get this quest out of my head and have committed to restart it. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO KNOW ABOUT OR HAVE PLAYED THE PREVIOUS ITERATION. God knows there’s not enough players on /qst/ as it is.
The Courier has 10 in all S.P.E.C.I.A.L. stats, as well as 100 in all skills. He also has access to all equipment and loot not exclusive to a faction quest. Companions will depend on player choices. Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=40kai
Refresher/Infodump: https://rentry.org/416641021
Big Recap: https://rentry.co/40kAIRecap >Opening Animation:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOGtHrj8Kts
>Thread 1 Archive:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5873422/
>Summary:
You are the SOLSTICE, the final remnant of the treasonous 12th suppression fleet. Retrieve your scattered crew and seek redemption. 
DC Quest: The New Blood #1
Metropolis, Gotham, Star City, Atlantis, Themyscira. These were once the homes of just some of the world's finest heroes, now these places are nothing but dust. Corpses of humans, metahumans, and aliens all from a previous variety of alignments, lay defeated and finally at rest across these many places, leaving only one being standing amongst them.
>HAIL DARKSEID
The sound of chanting and applause is so powerful it's as if this universe itself was rejoicing in his victory. Somewhere on this conquered planet, this world's new king sits atop a throne of his defeated adversaries. The few inhabitants of this planet who somehow survived this massacre have either submitted themselves to the whim of it's ruler, or, are hiding and biding their futile last moments. Among the king, his loyal servants. A monstrous creature with a vice like grip in one hand around the throat of a dead kryptonian. The next, an alien garbed in yellow standing
stoic and looking off into the chanting crowd. A cackling jester, caged, but rejoicing in the desecrated environment around him. A shapeless and everchanging being is the last among them.
>HAIL DARKSEID
Somewhere out in these ruinous cityscapes, a speedster, beaten and barely holding on for his life wakes up and gasps for air. Taking in his surroundings the sound of the cheering drives the pain ringing through his head to a threshold never reached before. "This.. this is all wrong, he speaks to himself, barely being able to finish. Finally, he gathers the strength to hobble back onto his feet, trying his hardest to make a breakneck pace, though what is barely a jog is all he can seemingly do right now. "I can change this, I HAVE to fix this", he says, slowly gaining more speed as his attempts continue.
>HAIL DARKSE-
Time slows, bolts and crackles sound off underneath the speedsters feet, "I know there's something.. we missed, someone must know something", he says. Finally after his accelerated healing had kicked in enough,
he makes a mad dash and is.. gone? The world turns backwards, previous lengthy battles flash by in mere seconds, those once dead are standing once again, the world is healed, the scales have been tipped,
something feels different though he cannot place it. At the end of his run backwards through time he stops and looks around quickly once more, breathing raggedly he says, "A little further back than I mean to go but..", he slumps to the ground. Everything fades to black.
>BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
Your digital alarm sounds off, rousing up from your sleep you stretch and yawn as your eyes grow accustom again to the daylight filling your bedroom. Your mother calls you from downstairs, feeling like it's a good idea
to not keep her waiting, you get up and prepare for your day. Standing in front of your mirror you get a good look at your;
>Male Body
>Female body 
This will be a short one dungeon campaign. The entire game will be set in the dungeon without the ability to retreat to civilisation (you'll still be able to camp in the nearby wilderness). Since editing the battlemap every time a character moves to another square would be an utter pain in the ass, combat will play out a bit differently, the details of which will be revealed throughout the campaign. Don't be afraid to ask questions.
~CAMPAIGN INFO~
----------------------------
Game: BECMI (Rules Cyclopedia) (Archive link: https://archive.org/details/tsr01071theddrulescyclopedia305pages)
Setting: Mystara
Module: In Search of the Unknown
Players: 4
Player level: 3rd
Campaign goal: find the treasury and escape the dungeon with the loot
~HOMEBREW~
----------------------
Mana: Vancian memorisation is replaced with mana where 1st level spells cost one point, 2nd level 2 points, etc. (since a 3rd level magic-user can cast two 1st lvl spells and one 2nd lvl spell, now they have a mana pool of 4 points)
Men & Magic: for each level above 1st you can choose a random henchman or a random magical item
Multiclassing: you must sacrifice a level to add a level from another class (example: you can be a lvl 3 fighter or a lvl 1 fighter and lvl 1 magic-user)
Weapon limitations: mages and clerics can choose which weapons they can use instead of just daggers and blunt weapons, mages can choose one weapon and clerics three
Playing as a monster: you can play as a monster of no more than 3 HD, weaker monsters can add class levels (example: a 1 HD goblin can add 2 class levels)
~CHARACTER SHEET~
---------------------------------
Name:
Class:
Alignment:
Level:
Hit points:
Armor class:
Strength:
Dexterity:
Constitution:
Intelligence:
Wisdom:
Charisma:
Saving throws: DR/P ,MW ,P/TS ,DB ,R/S/S
Movement rate:
THAC0:
Equipment:
Spells & powers: 
What seemed to be the calm before the storm has become a different type of natural disaster. Casually introducing Crossbill to your friends and family has rapidly evolved into a Family Reunion, a wide Agency meeting, and a random recruitment session. The actual heist you were planning on doing is on the back burner for now.
After Chio’s unfortunate relapse, she was brought back to her room with your stupid ass portrait placed on the wall. Collectively, you all decided to move it there because she loved it! In fact, her devotion was so great that she kicked everyone out of her room except for Wilma to spend time ‘alone’ with it. You never thought you’d be overshadowed by your own portrait, but here you are.
Even if initially this meeting with Punk-P was meant to be serious from beginning to end, she ended up appreciating the turmoil, and didn’t mind how the events unfolded. Not having to look at it on the wall must’ve been a plus.
That doesn’t mean that this tomato duo is out of the equation, no, Chio wants to have a talk with everyone involved. She wants them to come to her room in pairs. Ones she designed. Just a friendly exchange of words, maybe words of gratitude…
Crossbill and Yu Yan are more than satisfied by what their mysterious box accomplished.
...
Who shall be sacrificed?
>Yu Yan and Crossbill. It was their idea!
>Nariko and Amelia. You already spent some time with them!
>Write In.
Pumpkin is here! What now?
>Have a serious 1-on-1 conversation with your star talent. One of.
>Let the surviving pair join the talk. It’s the preamble before the Meeting.
>Tell Pumpkin you can talk in the Kitchen while you cook some Chicken Wings for Huge Irma.
>Write In. 
"Happy Birthday, Our Brave Boys. You are now twenty years of age and it is time you embark on your Youthful Journey so that you may learn and grow to return home as men. Make farewells to your family, your friends, and your neighbors, for they will surely miss you, but never forget the Memories you made with them, so you can share them to new friends you will make from across the nation. Make us proud and become the man we need to preserve and continue Our Memories."
Every month, around 10,000 boys are shipped to Sleepy Waters for their twentieth birthday. They travel by rail or paddle streamer from their home village or town, most taking no longer than 16 hours on their voyage. It was a common sight to see so many old boys traveling during the last day of every month, carrying nothing but the clothes on their back, some cash for when they become hungry on their way to Sleepy Waters, and a slip of paper containing their personal details.
Sleepy Waters was not a pleasant sight to behold, entirely devoid from the expanse of farm fields and meadows nearly all boys are accustomed to. Those from the capital aren't as shocked as their rural counterparts but it was sill undesirable for its dull colors and muddy tracks, though the chimneys of smoke was more familiar to them. The boys entered Sleepy Waters on foot, forming a few of the longest lines under a canopy, turning and weaving to fit as many under to get away from the unfortunate rain.
Upon approaching the head of the line, one would come across an older gentleman in a dark uniform demanding each boy's slip of paper in exchange for a metallic tag with a string of numbers. He would copy the number onto the slip of paper given to him and call for the next boy.
***INTRODUCTION***
Greetings, this is not meant to be a conventional quest, instead mimicking some previous threads on /tg/ where I just shared my worldbuilding while drawing cute soldier boys. Often times people will ask questions about the setting or project themselves as a character in the threads, writing their thoughts, dreams, desires, and fears. I almost always entertain every remark and comment in the form of a drawing as the threads move onto a short story following the anons' until into a story's conclusion.
The real purpose of this quest is just for me to draw cute soldier boys. 
With the majority of the Seventh Universe united under the banner of the PTO, Emperor Cooler at its head, the universe has known a time of unrivaled peace. But in the shadows threats have been growing, nursing grudges against the PTO and the Saiyan race in particular. And now those threats are rising, stepping out of the shadows to openly challenge the established order. Seeking nothing short of the destruction of New Salda and the extinction of the entire Saiyan race, can you prevent this outcome? Or will the Saiyan race be reduced to nothing more than memories, their heroes nothing more than ink in the pages of the history books?
You the players will (most often) control Karn; wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul and hope of the entire PTO, not only the Saiyan race. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has grown in power and skill, overcoming the world-ending threats that have come for the Saiyans to become the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759. From the massive Covenant empire to demonic incursions, mad cultists to vengeful gods, none have been strong or clever enough to put down Karn for good. But will one man's power be enough to protect everyone from the rising threats? Or will death come from those who you least expect it from? Your choices may mean the difference between survival and extinction, so choose carefully.
Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM
Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice
>One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun
SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tndKYpPz2RU
REVENGE OF THE BODY SNATCHERS 
For as long as there has been human civilisation, there has been competition, cooperation, rivalry and wars. For all the great heights our ancestors carried us to, they could fall greatly as well. Their legacies, whatever works and scraps their successors manage to gather, will lead to the next great heights, and so the great and eternal cycle shall continue.
From the cradle in Sumeria to the poleis of Ancient Greece, the great empires of the classical period, the feudal mediaeval kingdoms, the competing early modern proto-states, the great imperial powers of the 19th century, and the ideologically charged nation-states of the later eras. Throughout it all, there has been one truth: man can never unify with himself unless the situation would become truly dire.
And so it was; with the coming of interstellar travel would come an era of unity and prosperity. The next two and a half millennia would be a time of great bliss for all of humanity, one where man would come into contact with the alien life that had so greatly captured man's imagination. There would be friendships, there would be wars, and above it all else, there was adventure and advancement. The federation would proudly uphold and exalt its democratic values and would help to share these values with whoever wished to listen.
But all good things must come to an end. And a great malaise would come over this once-great republic. Economic downturns, rampant piracy and a variety of technological setbacks would lead to several successful but costly wars with the alien species, costing man both his neighbours and whatever few friends he had left.
Man was once more alone, something he had better not have been. What followed was half a millennium of coups, secessions, and civil wars. There would be no recovery, not this time. A galactic dark age would descend upon all of humanity, as attempts to recapture something of the past came and went.
By the time you were born, semblances of states had been in place for a while.
The Pan-Solar Empire of Humanity now rules over the largest rump state in the vicinity; it formally claims dominion over all of humanity, though these pretences are often forgotten, even by their own emperors.
You were fortunate enough to be born into a prosperous position among the lower nobility. Your father was, in his time, an able and diligent gentleman who made his career in the civil service, a career he finished with a large estate covering a continent and the title of baron.
He was also a shrewd investor too and kept many connections with the imperial government over the years. Perhaps that is why you were eventually selected for the post on that fateful day.
Your youth was one of idle leisure and gifted study; no matter what happened, as your father's eldest son, you could always fall back upon the idle life of a country gentleman. Your name is Hoik Broadback, a young Vetucker man in the Hegemony. While your exact age by solar cycles is difficult to determine, due to being born on a far away planet from your homeworld with an elipitcal orbit; you are categorized by your Jaxtian-Standard Biological Aging rate to be Eighteen Years old.
As with all Hegemonic citizens, your time is evenly split between training, work, social time, and play. You have a pretty busy schedule with a scarce few hours a day for leisure, but that's okay. It's expected for guys your age, plus you volunteered to help clean the workshop today. You put some of your things into a locker as you hear a musical voice call out from behind.
”Hi Hoik~!”
You feel flushed as you turn and see the owner of that voice, one Ophia Ulantri, a Jaxtian girl who's been in a lot of your classes. And she works in the facility too, just in a different department. You try to lean back against the locker, but can't figure out where to put your hands. 
Fourth Thread, First Post:
The Fourth Thread of Fatale Albion!
The Fatale Albion Thread Archive:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Fatale%20Albion
Other Threads by Lumina Canima:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=meguca+royale
INTRO (Please do not skip this)
◕ Fatale Albion is a Spin-Off of Lumina Canima’s “Meguca Royale”, taking place in the U.K. Three players are currently taking part in this game. They each will answer to their own prompts with their own characters. This Quest will have major spoilers for PMMM, so if you haven’t watched it yet and don’t want me to ruin it for you, watch it right now or else. If you still want to read and participate in this quest then I’ll have something to show you.
◕ In the previous thread, Abigail learned some of the details related to her new Soul Room-mate, learned some new techniques to utilise her Magic, and initiated a date with her boyfriend. Stephanie and her sister almost got mugged with a knife (it’s the UK, what did you expect?) but Stephanie still had her longsword as it didn’t disappear with her Magical Girl outfit and she fended off the cur after insulting him furiously, she then agreed to binge Anime with her sister after getting home. Alba learned that she is a goddamn Magical Girl from her friend/personal tailor, was offered to be part of a mission to get rid of Grief all over the UK by said friend, and learned an obscure, occult, nearly unusable language by said friend as well.
Stephanie’s actions were posted last thread, Abigail’s actions were given to me through an alternative communication channel, and we have been waiting for Alba’s return.
OTHER STUFF
>Can I also join in the suffering?
I’ve decided that I’m accepting new players for now. Just fill in this Contract Form and you’ll be all set.
Name: (The name of your character. Shameless Self-Insert or not)
Appearance: (The garish looks of your character. Clothing descriptions are also welcome.)
Quirks: (Personality traits, how they behave. Examples of how they act in specific situations are good. This space is vague intentionally, but remember: Simplicity is power and Brevity is the Soul of Wit.)
Wish: (The Wish that you made with your Incubator. Your magical ability and theme is influenced heavily by your Wish. Make sure to be careful, some wishes have unforeseen consequences.) 
Past Thread: >>6183798
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Missval
General Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/5hFQZtc3
Character Sheet (Back to the good old days, for now): https://pastebin.com/xA4G6LMk
Twitter/X account for important announcements, contact and stuff: https://x.com/MissvalQM
Your name is Shelly Suzume. A member of the White Fang. You didn’t start out this way, and you certainly never expected to join them, but at least it’s temporary. Probably. Then again, you did receive an offer to lead one of its branches. The idea is… enticing, but it’s something you still need to think about, especially since that branch happens to be in one of the scummiest places imaginable.
Speaking of scum, you just witnessed one of the most… interesting meetings you’ve ever attended. You saw most of Kuchinashi’s underworld big shots with your own eyes. Then again, at this point, the entire city is the underworld. You probably left a good impression on them. Maybe.
Your boss, Taylor, just allied himself with the Black Sheep. That doesn’t exactly sit well with you, but, well… politics aren’t really your thing. Or at least, you haven’t had much reason to deal with them, yet. If you accept Taylor’s offer, that might change.
Oh! And also. You infiltrated a Black Sheep’s underground weird warehouse-gallery-tunnel thing. Nothing too bad here. Just a few bodies here and there. Poor souls, victims of… something.
And to top it all off with a golden brooch, you accidentally ran into (most likely) the two most dangerous people in all of Kuchinashi. Maybe even Mistral. Just skulking around, exploring the same warehouses as you.
--- 
“The Krieger Corp is the life for me,
A gun, a bed and a grave for free.
That’s my lot in the Black Company.”
It took the Earth 10 long years to die. Like every planet afflicted by the pervasive sentient plague that swept the galaxy at the turn of the 23rd century, aptly named The Rot, Earth’s demise was slow and agonising at first then violent and sudden by the end. The seas boiled and the air turned to ash in the wake of the continent-shattering orbital bombardments that cleansed her and a hundred other worlds.
20 years later, the dust of the Purification Wars has settled and the surviving xenos empires have finished carving up the remaining colonies of those less fortunate races between them, including those few left from Earth’s initial phase of expansion. Just rewards for the victorious alien’s part in saving the galaxy. The surviving human population, once many billions, now numbers in the mere millions. An entire race of refugees, vagrants and backwater outcasts begging, stealing and labouring as second-class citizens, servants or slaves under uncaring alien masters.
A lifetime of backbreaking work for stale recycled oxygen units and a handful of credits is the best fate most humans can hope for. Little wonder then that the violent but lucrative life of a mercenary holds such appeal. As the novelty of peace wears off and the rival alien nations rattle their sabres once more, human mercenaries are in high demand for their crude effectiveness and affordable prices.
And of all the human mercenary firms, there are none so infamous and so highly sought after as the services of the Black Company…
=============================================
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BlackCompany666
/qst/ Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=2230AD
2230AD Annal Entries: https://pastebin.com/zBic3fPQ [Updated!]
Recorded Xenos Species: https://pastebin.com/vdG01RzG
The Last Human Colonies: https://pastebin.com/VA3nHbTm
Advanced Firefight Rules: https://pastebin.com/NATmyFSw >You are Erman Fish, a young, sprightly fisherman looking to catch them all! On this sunny morning, you've been given a rod and a hat by your father, and your fishing journey has begun!
>Catch numerous species, obtain upgrades, and defeat the boss of each locale to carry on!
>Whether it's for eating, trophies, or keeping, every fish has a purpose, and nets you some money!
Catalog:
Powerups only apply the next day
>Chum Bucket: Eliminates the risk of duds (Min roll)- $10
>Ice Bucket: Allows you to store 1 fish until it becomes CATCH OF THE DAY and can be sold for double- $5
>Twin Hook (T2): Chance to catch double fish- $5
>Reinforced Rod (T2): Flat +1 bonus to reel dice- $10
To fish:
>Roll 3 d10s (one per anon)
>1st dice is Fish variety
>2nd dice is Reel Strength (Beat a minimum per fish to capture)
>3rd dice is Size The university raid is finally underway as William and his party fights off the security as they make their way to destroy the headmaster's research. 
You are Tristain d’Rusalka, a noble from the United Kingdom of Fodlan born with unique abilities bestowed upon you by the Goddess. You have journeyed across the sea to the desert kingdom of Morfis after receiving an invitation to join a mysterious competition. Though you know little of the trials that lie ahead, the winner of this contest has been promised the hand of Morfis’ Princess, Yulia Xan Phanes, in marriage. Seeking adventures, thrills, and battles that would be worthy of your might, you embarked on this strange voyage with nothing but your trusted axe.
After having arrived at the mountain town of Hima, you were quickly pulled into a confrontation between the local garrison and the dreaded Cult of the Serpent. In your attempt to learn more about the Cult’s activities, you inadvertently caused a religious schism which found you as the new figurehead of one of its branches. Partnering with Hima’s defenders as well as one of your rivals in the competition for Princess Yulia’s hand, you defeated the Cult’s main army. In doing so, you acquired a new mount for yourself; an exceedingly rare white wyvern capable of sorcery, whom you named Fionn.
Grateful for your assistance, the Governor of Hima offered to train you in the art of fighting atop your newfound companion. You have now spent the last five days familiarizing yourself with Fionn and growing accustomed to his movements. You will soon leave for your next destination, Shangri-La. The fabled “Palace of Debauchery” will be your last stop before finally arriving at the City of Morfis.
>Tristain d’Rusalka
>Level 30/50 Wyvern Lord (EXP: 0/100)
HP: 61/61 (120%)
Strength: 34 (65%)
Magic: 20 (40%)
Speed: 25 (30%)
Defense: 26 (60%)
Resistance: 16 (40%)
Luck: 15 (55%)
>Skill: Resolve (When HP falls to less than 35%, Strength, Speed and Defense increase by 7)
>Dragon-kin Wyvern (SPD based chance for Fionn to launch an ice attack, dealing ½ MAG Damage.)
>Weapons: Silver Axe (+16 ATK), Hammer (+8 ATK, 3x DMG vs Armor Knights), Devil Axe (+21 ATK, -20 HP when Used) Iron Bow (+6 ATK)
>Spells:
Fire (+3 ATK, 5 Uses)
Elfire (+7 ATK, 3 Uses)
Wind (+3 ATK, 5 Uses, 3x DMG vs flying)
>Abilities:
Crest of Indech: You are able to make a follow-up attack on one foe, regardless of Speed. (4 Charges)
Crest of Macuil: Double the attack power of a magic spell. (3 Charges)
Combat Art: Earthsplitter: Cleave all enemies standing two rows in front of you. (Cost: 1 Crest of Indech Charge)
Combat Art: Throw: (Toss your weapon at an enemy and return it to your hand. Ranged attack.) (1 Crest of Indech Charge)
>Items: Concoction x5 (+20 HP)
>Gold: 300g
>Tristain’s Party: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1mrlj-c7Oe51qIoat3LJfDSv0Bw2nmExQT2EqlKlWPGw/edit?usp=sharing
>Combat Rules:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1m_UvIqCmBRzmrlu0mvttVkGRRI8bIkT6iTTrDR_J5zo/edit?usp=sharing
>Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Sorcerer%20Kingdom 
It is estimated that over 5 billion species have gone extinct throughout Earth's history. In the year 21XX, Humanity came to join that number. The chain of events leading up to this exodus has long since been forgotten, but a silver lining remained: Mankind would cease to exist on Earth, yet avoided total eradication by shunting itself into a hidden sanctuary known as the Digital World.
Your dying race discovered the sprawling infrastructure of this virtual ark right as they reached the event horizon of global biosphere collapse. Myriad wars had already broken out over the remaining resources, cutting down substantial portions of the population and resulting in the fall of numerous states. When news broke of this alternate world's discovery, nations looked up from their bloody squabbles, sick of fighting over scraps like dogs, and listened well and hard. Then came the final cooperative effort humanity would undertake: A project to move the minds of every living soul into the network, where trailblazers were working tirelessly to establish a new frontier for mankind. One without borders, without limits, without the contrivances of a material world that was dying thanks to their actions. This effort was a resounding success.
And now, God knows how many years later, you're sick of it. You want out. 
To wit; it cannot be gainsaid that the Many Mysteries are well-without the purview of Flegmat, or any other author herein this Canon; truly, it is that they would write of Mysterious Medicine and Healing Arts with the same authority as a Counter-Clerk would of chirurgery! However, here Flegmat wrestles – gainfully, mind – with the long-historied role that those who Delved had on the mundane study of Humorous Nature. His accounting of the rise into good-grace of the Fourfold Theory is well-fleshed, though not novel to anyone passably read. The account of the subsequent fall from good-grace and the too-incremental acceptance of its successor, the Comprehensive Theory - elsewhere named as the Singular or the Singular Comprehensive Theory - is novel, controversial, and in the eyes of some, perhaps even dangerous. As its inclusion was not a decision gently made nor borne, so it may be said that it being rendered here at all is testament to the strength of Flegmat's argumentation, and the butcher's bill that the slow adoption of Singular Theory has needlessly wrought.
- A preface from a Stricken printing of The Canon of Medicine, a collection of writings on medical history by a number of authors. The Fourfold Theory held that for man there is an internal alchemical balance of phlegm, blood and bile - both yellow and black - and that when balance between these four is lost, illness and malady are inevitable. The Comprehensive Theory holds that there is but one 'family' of Humors, not four - hence Singular - and that it is the presence of these Humors, not the balance of them, that are responsible for illnesses. Medical interventions that ascribe to the Comprehensive Theory of Humors are more successful than those that ascribe to the Fourfold Theory, though as the Comprehensive Theory was developed by Witches as opposed to Physicians, its adoption in the fields of Mundane medicine has been slow, partially on account of the inclement association, but primarily as any benefits from implementing the theory in practice were misattributed to Mysterious Medicine, and were assumed to be beyond mundane practitioners.
In Scrimshaw Mount, all graves are shallow. Even on the Promontory, where Nature, through the permutations of the Pattern had placed soil on the otherwise nude basalt of the Mount, the bone white stone was never more than a few feet down, commonly less than one. As such, getting graves to the standard depth of eight feet was simply not practical for those interned in the Mount's public burying grounds. But those that lived their lives and died their deaths on the Mount didn't take overmuch umbrage at their shallow graves. For both the practical and pious among them understood full well that under the panopticonical Gaze of the Patternmaker Above … all things are shallow. 
For House and Dominion: A Knight's Tale
https://houseanddominion.fandom.com/wiki/HouseAndDominion_Wiki#Upcoming_Games_and_Shorts
https://twitter.com/ThatSlowTypingG
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJD5yRdvg1U [Transformers One Theme]
It is the 41st century. Great star empires that span galaxies make up the Factions of known space. Two decades of war saw the Factions united against a common foe; the Neeran Empire. With the Empire's defeat the Factions are once again at peace, but few are willing to risk falling into complacency and malaise once more.
Great star fleets still ply the space lanes, keeping the peace and keeping a watchful eye for new threats. These fleets, once built for war, are increasingly being turned towards exploration. The neutral Navigators Guild leads the expansion, plotting new safe routes to distant galaxies. Meanwhile the Factions Alliance military act as their guardians, protecting the explorers and evaluating threats to Faction space.
The Alliance fleets still act as the defenders of Faction space, guarding against external threats. Called on to police the borders of the former Neeran Empire and support exploration efforts, they are stretched thin on all fronts. Fortunately there is no shortage of old soldiers and adventurous youths looking for a cause if the price is right. Some are more sought after than others.
In the Neeran Wars all the Factions suffered to some extent. Entire worlds were destroyed, stripped of life or reduced to rubble. The heart was torn out of the Shallan Federation while the Terran Alliance and Dominion of Royal Houses staggered from lost worlds and a refugee crisis. Worse the Dominion fell into civil war at the worst possible time.
The Dominion civil war saw many dozens of Houses conquered by their neighbours or otherwise overthrown. Some simply saw a change in government, changing sides and aligning themselves with their former enemies. Others would be annexed or dissolved outright. Even years after the conflict its remnants still linger. The dispossessed are Knights and nobles of Dominion Houses that have lost their lands and territory. Many still have personal fortunes and enough resources to be dangerous.
Knights Errant are made up of those dispossessed still determined to take up arms in some cause. Entire chapters of Knights Errant exist, some choosing to defend the Dominion, others simply banding together for safety. Regardless of reason these knights are often some of the best warriors in known space and a resource the Alliance does not hesitate to draw upon.
Your House may have long ago fallen but there is still hope for the future. Work for the Alliance protecting the exploration fleets will be dangerous but could provide the tools and opportunity necessary to some day restore your House. 
(To everyone who signed up, I hope you are ready. I know I am. I have decided to start us in the northern mountain kingdoms. The 'group' has not yet formed, but everyone is here. I will leave it up to you (mostly) as to why. If you want to join and have not gotten your character verified yet, please do so here:
>>6214296.
Elsewise, please enjoy!)
The Grimstone Inn, is located on the eastern mountain range of Saxondy, the easternmost of the Northern Mountain Kingdoms. First established 20 years ago, it serves as the farthest one can get away from civilization, outside of troll country, of course. While in the most technical of senses, it was located outside of the boarders of the kingdom, the only way to was through a mountain pass, which split off from a road to one of the boarder fortresses. The location served to provide it with some measure of privacy, for those eighter looking to disappear, or to glean information. The Order of Pendrake, the chapter of monster hunters who patrolled these parts, was far more concerned with incursions into troll country or preventing voidspawn from sneaking past the boarder, then with the Grimstone. Furthermore, because of its location, it was provided some measure of protection by the Garison, roughly 3 miles south and 5 west. Then again, there was a reason why they kept arms locked up in the basement. Regardless, for any looking to hide, looking for those hiding, or looking for information, a better place could not be found. Who are you, and what would you like to do? 
Time and time again, you find yourself thinking about Lady Megistus. Though you’re aware of no bond of blood or lineage, you still feel a sense of kinship with her. In some strange way, you feel as if you might understand one another. It may be a futile hope, but you keep wondering. What if, by some remote miracle, she was still alive somewhere within the labyrinth? What could she teach you, and at what cost?
Questions haunt you, but dinner offers a fleeting sense of reprieve. No expense has been spared, either in the quality of the ingredients or the talent involved in the cooking. You suppose that small comforts like these are vital for life far up in the remote mountains. The old Martense family might have neglected them, but the new generation is not beyond the allure of fine food and wine.
Jan’s parents swiftly withdraw after the meal, as if sensing that they might be intruding upon private conversations or, perhaps, simply seeking out their own solitude. They are, after all, still Martense.
“So Bard, Jan tells me that you’ve seen that sister of yours!” Daniel announces, gesturing towards you with his fork, “Why didn’t you say anything? You know I’ve been wanting to meet her for years.”
“Why do you think I didn’t say anything?” you counter, softening the rebuke with a laugh. All jokes aside, you’re vaguely terrified of what might happen if the two of them were to meet. You’re not sure that both of them would come out alive.
“Hmm. You could at least tell me what she’s like. Elle?” the soldier insists, “I’m not going to ask Bard. He’s hardly an unbiased source, after all.”
“Oh, um, she’s very…” Elle hesitates, “She’s just a normal girl, really. There’s nothing to get excited about.”
You can tell that Daniel is far from convinced, but Jan clears his throat before any further questions can be asked. “How about a game?” he offers, “I forgot to mention earlier, we found some in one of the storage rooms. I think you might like this one, Isambard.”
“Lead on, then,” you urge, grabbing onto the excuse with both hands. Jan nods, getting up and guiding you through to another room. A map lies spread out across a long table, while a scattering of small metal models awaits your attention. You see cavalry sitting atop proud horses, and a mixture of infantry wielding archaic weaponry.
It’s one of THOSE games. 
Amongst the squat, broad, and thickly-forested hills north and east of Hawksong, between the savage barrier of the cold Orcwilds and the lush plenty of the elves’ shrinking Silver Realm, there is a land called The Steelwood by those who live there. For centuries, it has been a place of constant (if often low-level and intermittent) conflict. Elf and Man, Man and Orc, Orc and Elf, all have fought and shed blood there, and their fallen swords, shields, and spears litter the land and give it its name. Each of them claims a birthright to this inauspicious area. Eash of them claims that their ancestors staked their claim first, before the others arrived.
But if you ask the Dwarves, they are all wrong.
Your party—The Monstrous Regiment—came to The Steelwood to earn a cut of a lucrative dwarven corporate contract. The contract was initially taken by another adventuring outfit calling themselves ‘The Delvers’, whom you met after an unexpected team-up hunting lake monsters, and whose technical focus would complement your party’s particular skillset: goblin grit, the Feycraft of a faun you found, a shrewdness born of a difficult and colourful life, and a certain occult secret up your sleeve. The Steelwood Expedition’s purpose: to find and explore the ruins of a buried pyramid among the hills, a mysterious megastructure belonging to the last of the long-defunct dwarven. After a brief break detour to pick up some local orc muscle by making a deal with local orc horde, you journeyed into the hills to survey for some potentially quite valuable ruins.
What you found was far greater, and much stranger, than any archaeological discovery you could have anticipated.
The pyramid had been plundered and illicitly inhabited by The Ettercap, a spider-faced fairy defector from the Chaotic Good gods of elvenkind. Deep within the hidden hill-fort, the disturbed demigod had laid claim to ancient wonders of a technology that predated even the dwarven race—belonging to a blue-green breed of GOBLIN, of all things—and turned the transformative power of the great bio-magical forge at its centre to a terrible purpose. Using the same processes which (as you discovered) had been used to give ancient goblins new soul and substance, and to create the races of Dwarf, Gnome, and Halfling, she has made purple-skinned and bug-eyed ‘foundlings’ from kidnapped kids taken from all over the Steelwood.
One half of your party was kidnapped, and nearly suffered the very same fate. 
Last week on Secret Weapons of the Empire, we covered the Angel-pattern Walkers. This week, we cover their arguable predecessor in Project Warden.
More commonly known as the Core Frame, the thin, spindly figure represented a radical departure from traditional Ferrum designs.
The inception came from a design request for a fast mech able to modularly mount weapons systems from other Special Warfare Projects in development, while retaining the ability to switch between those available for adaptation to a changing battlefield.
Mired in bureaucratic hangups and competition for scarce resources, the design was rewritten no less than 14 times before construction of a prototype was even started, continuously reworked to incorporate more and more cutting edge technologies.
This culminated in a 15th and final redesign under a new project lead, the visionary Dr. Anokhin. Incorporating a new experimental piloting interface proved a double-edged sword. Even in simulators, early testing of this Man-Machine interface showed the problems that would plague Wardens throughout their whole operational life.
Pilots would commonly report fatigue, nausea, vertigo, increased numbness or loss of feelings, and bloody noses upon disconnection from the simulator. Prolonged use could result in unconsciousness, stroke, seizures, or even death.
Nevertheless, promising results pushed Project Warden forwards, even expanding the project into three separate prototypes: a scouting and recon model, a trooper model, and a close assault model.
A mandate from the highest authority to prioritize and push something to the frontline in time for the next offensive forced the project to cannibalize the recon and close assault model in favor of the ‘trooper’ design. However, it took cues from the scrapped designs in the form of the fixed Predator Jamming array, and it often carried the close assault design’s Demon Claw into battle. The former piece of technology caused the iconic crackling over communications on combat recordings of the machine.
As work intensified on finishing the Warden prototype, information was leaked to the ASF, who executed Operation Dragoon, a deep-cover commando raid into the heart of the Empire.
The raid was initially considered quite successful, destroying the underground facility and capturing several high-ranking scientists, including the aforementioned Dr. Anokhin, the prototype nevertheless had been completed and moved via underground rail transport before the attack was carried out, along with design plans.
The completed prototype, nicknamed ‘Beta’, would make its debut on the southern front as part of counter-raiding forces. A series of lightning deployments against the 3rd Allied Command and Home Sector Command would be the first live-fire tests, and the ‘Thin Man’, as nicknamed by soldiers, would swiftly gain a fearsome reputation. In this world many tribes of mortals can be found. As they try to make sense of the world they began to believe in many gods. You play as the first pantheon. Will you work together to shape the world for the sake of your followers, or will you kill everyone that doesn't pray to you. The choice is yours.
Character Sheet
Name: What do your worshippers call you.
Domain: What is it you are primarily worshiped for. Can choose up to five.
Location: Pick a color and mark on the map where your worship begins.
Backstory: While the first Gods are born from the faith of their believers, they tend to believe in the myths that birthed them. Tell us what you and your followers believe to be true.
Culture (optional): Give us some information about the tribe that worships you. 
You’re ANTON PEAS: a Grill Jockey at GREASE MONKEY: THE DEEP-FRIED EVERYTHING FAMILY RESTAURANT! Well, you were, anyways. Thanks to a demonic ritual gone wrong, you were whisked away to ZORAL: a fantasy realm shrouded in perpetual darkness–the surprise trip leaving you with a plate full of troubles and a head full of holes!
To say you’ve been busy would be a rhino-sized understatement. In your quest to scrounge up the 20,000 BELLS that’ll supposedly buy you passage back home, you somehow managed to run afoul of an all-you-can-eat buffet of plots and plans! Chief among them a sinister scheme penned by the mysterious CULT OF THE WORM... the goal? WORLD DOMINATION!
Probably. You had to dip out of the meeting you snuck into a little early, but you got the gist of it!
You also found out that the cult was planning another summoning ritual in a secret hideout near HJALL’DAH’S PLUNGE to the South… just like the one that brought you here in the first place! Their goal? Summoning a DEVIL to aid their menacing machinations! Having tangled with a demon at a fraction of her power, you can only imagine how much damage a fully-charged hellspawn could do!
Before you could talk shop about your next move, however, you were waylaid by assassins sent by the sinister SPICE CARTEL: Zoral’s golden boys when it comes to organized crime! Spurred into action by your new abyssal amiga REZALITH, you decided to add a quick stop in GOLD TOWN on your road trip down South… Why?
To toast one of the Cartel’s casinos like a marshmallow!
As for how you plan on doing that, well, that’s still up for discussion!
Fueled up by hoity-toity spa treatments, ‘quality time’ with your new gal pal TZAH-TZIE, and your memories slowly trickling back into your head, THIS is where your tale continues…
https://youtu.be/1lR8VLt1Xlk 
The only things you were given in life were the visions the Dark Gods bestowed upon you. You felt their voices through your mind, to your very bones. To become their cleric—ha! Was there any other choice in life? You joined the throngs fleeing the Galgen Empire, preached to them about the Three Who Were Once Four. You fought tooth and nail, first for survival, then alongside fellow worshippers in formation.
Your brothers and sisters in the southern wastes welcomed you to the League of the Valknar. A people dedicated to the Dark Gods. You took your place as a cleric, proving in combat and in faith that you were worthy. You ARE worthy. You will prove it by magic, by sermon, and by the blood of your enemies.
~-~
The Tyrian Desert sun greets you as you step out of your manor. The air came bearing sand on the wind, bouncing harmlessly off your red cloak and crimson scales. You let the elements wash over you. You never realized how sluggish the northern climes of Galgen made you feel until you journeyed this far south. Your mouth twitches in a smile. From refugee rags to wearing cleric robes. From terrified hatchling to warrior-priest.
But becoming Lord of Tyrport was something you did not expect. A new frontier town in the war against the damnable Galgenites. A settlement once neutral - but when the imperials took hold, the League couldn’t ignore the port. The Valknarri swept down on the town. Those Galgenites captured in the battle were already sacrificed to the Valknar.
It was your first day as the lord - you had arrived last night. The town was repairing and getting ready for their new lord.
“Good morning, my lord,” a familiar voice spoke to your side. You look down, as most times you do, at the tiefling hellknight. Elkaza was not short, you simply stood over most at eight feet tall. Her ebony armor gleaned in the sun. “How was your first night in Tyrport?”
”The bed was ostentatious and much too soft. Like a mattress you’d find in a brothel.”
She gave you a knowing look.
“An, uh, upscale brothel. All silk and lavish,” you wring your hands. “I’m still used to my cot back in the Grand Keep of the Three.”
Elkaza could not hold back her chuckle. “You’re so peculiar, Rhogar. Did you at least sleep well?” You shook your head, and before she could reply, another figure entered the manor courtyard. He was followed by an entourage. Your guardsmen around the yard stood at the ready. Bearing no hostility, you wave the guards to let them in.
>cont 
As an inhabitant of the magocracy of Parsifal, nestled in a valley surrounded by tall mountains, it was a good surprise for your family when you displayed magical abilities. You were sent to the Archmage's Academy to study and become a wizard, but your grades were poor and you got kicked out. Seeking knowledge wherever you could, you joined the Adamantine Daggers, a guild of thieves and assassins. They financed your self-education in magic, bringing you stolen tomes from all over the realm. In exchange, they demanded you use your magic to further their goals.
One night, as you were doing your arcane calculations, you realized to your horror that a demonic portal was about to open in the middle of the largest city in the region. The consequences would be dire for everyone involved, so you decided to inform the guild.
They dismissed your calculations as nonsense, but you've redone them several times and they all pointed to next month as the date of the incoming demonic invasion.
No one seems to be taking this threat seriously but you! You have a month the get the fuck out of the valley!
The problem is the surrounding lands are full of barbarians, and you'd get slaughtered out there alone. You need to find people that believe your story willing to break out the valley and survive out there with you.
How are you going to proceed with this endeavour?
> Go through the streets screaming the end is near
> Find people you helped in the past within the guild
> Go look for some priest they dig these kinds of stories
> Find a very poor settlement and tell them they are the chosen people
> Write in 
Nina stares at her reflection, the water perfectly recreating her image despite the immense amount of steam emanating from it. The unblinking wraith looking back at her should cause some form of distress; rage, anguish, anxiety, yet none of it comes to surface.
She undresses, unsealing her robe with a single spell and letting it fall down on the ceramic floor. Naked, vulnerable, pure. Nothing.
All the spite and self-loathing that guided her every action is now gone, not from any big singular event, but from the constant erosion that a continued existence inevitably brings with it. She puts her index finger on her cheek, and slowly runs it down her neck, then her chest, and finally her thigh. Smooth and soft, this should bother her, it always did. She raises her hand back to her face, she bites into her hand, but it's painless, her teeth going straight through as if she's made of soft candy.
She hears a portal open behind her. There is only one other person that should have access to those baths, but maybe she hoped he would come to interrupt her as he does.
"Bad time?" Kit asks, hopping closer to the water. "I need to finetune the water, but I can come in later. Work, work, work, ya know how it is."
She kicks him into the water, with the difference in size, it was like shoving a pebble out of the way. He yelps as the almost boiling hot water sears his skin, unfortunately, he quickly adapts to the sudden shift in temperature.
Nina lets out a quiet giggle. "If you're going to take a bath, at least have the decency to undress," she says, lowering herself into the water next to him. It's a lot deeper than it appears, as she can submerge herself fully despite being much taller than nearly anyone in the school. The heat hurts, but she doesn't mind.
Kit takes off his cloak and throws it to the side. "This water doesn't wet clothes, not all students are comfortable being naked next to each other, or being cooked alive, that last part is what I came here to fix. Didn't I tell you that? Maybe I didn't, oops!"
"You did, I just don't care if you show up or not." She splashes a little bit of hot water on him. "Since you're here, what are your thoughts on the students this year?"
"Pretty good bunch. Potential here and there, few unique cases like the human and that bird girl, but nothing too worrying. I think most of em will pass, but next year might be..."
"We might need to suspend classes for the next year," Nina states, her gaze wandering over a vision only she can see. "The risk of wars has increased exponentially, and the pressure we've received from other parties to add a duel exam to our curriculum is clear, they want soldiers. The question is, are we going to give them what they're asking for." She rests her back on the border of the bath, awaiting Kit's answer. 
This is Gob. He is a goblin going to Fantasy University in the year 200X, and he wants a girlfriend!
Like his peers, he is looking for love and validation. He has no idea how to achieve either, but he is willing to try most things to achieve his goals.
Graduating would also be nice, but that is currently Gobs priority number two.
First day of school is about to start. Gob takes a look at the school pamphlet all new students receive:
---
Pre-start seminar on study techniques and other handy tips (9:15-10:30)
Library opens. Curriculum books sale and trade (10:00-18:00)
Introduction to speaking Common: The bridge between cultures (10:00-10:45)
Headcount and registration at the auditorium (11:00-12:30) (MANDATORY)
Pizza for new students and faculty (12:45-14:00)
Language and culture exhibition stands (12:45-18:15)
How to maintain mental health during hardships and setbacks (14:15-15:15)
Volunteer program introductions at the auditorium (15:00-18:00)
Forest walk, sponsored by Save the Unicorn Foundation (16:15-17:15)
---
Quite a lot of things the school has to offer first day. None of them about how to get a girlfriend unfortunately.
The clock is currently 8:00.
What does Gob start the day with? (You can vote for multiple at a time)
>Eat breakfast
>Brush teeth
>Shower
>Sleep a bit longer
>Check out the university grounds
>Attend event (which one?)
>Write in 
You are Nicole Smith. You are a SHIFTer, a person capable of using anomalous abilities to alter the world around you. You are a Cleaner, a deniable asset used by massive mega-corporations called the Alphabet Companies and anyone else willing to pay you.
And you're on the cusp of the most dangerous part of your career. Two major events you've been worried about are only a day away from happening: The HEAD MEETING (a massive corporate meeting between all twenty six of the Alphabet Companies) and the BASE ASSAULT (a self-assigned mission where you plan on raiding one of the Silver Agent's main bases to take them down).
Both of these will risk the life and limb of you and everyone you'll bring to them. Yet you know you have to face the music; You can't back away now. All you can do is prepare for the inevitable.
As for what happened last thread...
You tracked down a Syndicate of cultists who were kidnapping people and, with righteous fury, purged them from the backstreets of D-Corp. You then humored Clover and visited his old family estate. In the process you found odd lore about the creation of modern D-Company and even got your hands on illegal Singularity documents.
You met and tamed an anomaly made out of the melted remains of child test subjects that Clover's criminal father experimented on.
You then head down to R-Corp to track down AA Foxtrot. You ratted out a Silver Agent who was sneaking around in a Ranger Camp before tracking down AA to an abandoned pre-City weapons factory. There, you met a spook who wanted to work with you to deal with Shockely (one of the corporate agents working with the spooks) who went rogue.
You tracked him down, killed him, and recovered AA. You made your way over to L-Corp's district to track down Gabriel Foxtrot.
After a false start with a doppelganger, you incidentally tracked down Fang Foxtrot (who turned out to be Ashley Miller, one of your current allies) and dealt with one of the SHIFTers chasing you down.
You then found Gabriel Foxtrot down in an abandoned and wrecked candle shop. Well, an interdimensional space inside said candle shop, actually. You managed to drag him out of the shop after fighting through a horde of OCEP agents (a mysterious group you still know little about.)
Now? You're using your last bit of free time you'll have before the show starts to prepare for your best show yet.
ARCHIVE: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Cleaner
PASTEBINS:
MAIN CHARACTER SHEET: https://pastebin.com/3y638TfK
ALLIES: https://pastebin.com/8gdVZBPe
MECHANICS: https://pastebin.com/A9nLYWP6
INVENTORY: https://pastebin.com/n0MH6M17
CITY INFO: https://pastebin.com/ZP2JN7mT
CURRENT PARTY: https://pastebin.com/NeYKiyED
This will likely be the last Cleaner Quest thread. Don't worry, you'll get a satisfying enough ending. I just want to preface with that. 
Welcome to /qtg/, a place to talk about quests.
Previous thread
>>6181007
>What is a quest?
An interactive story in which a Quest Master (QM) writes and provides the readers with options on how to proceed — similar to a choose-your-own-adventure book or an old text adventure
Questionably Useful links:
>QTG discord: https://discord.gg/dZavHuK
>Skirmish discord: https://discord.com/invite/DZCVvVU
>Evo Game discord: https://discord.gg/v55Xaaja
>Old pastebin containing advice for QMs:
https://pastebin.com/Z78p8gXf
Badly in need of renovation.
>Archiving guide:
Go to http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/requestqstinterface.html
Fill out the request form to archive a thread.
Threads are also automatically archived by other websites, such as archived.moe.
>Formatting guide:
Only the thread's OP can format. Note that should the OP change ID, they will lose this ability as well.
Remove the spaces between the [] brackets and the letters:
Bold: [ b ] text [ /b ]
Italics: [ i ] text [ /i ]
Red: [ red ] text [ /red ]
Blue: [ blue ] text [ /blue ]
Green: [ green] text [ /green ]
>Formatting guide for everyone:
Dice (type this in “options”): dice + [no. of dice]d[no. of sides on the dice] (optionally you can add modifiers: dice + [no. of dice]d[no. of sides on the dice]+[modifier]; for a negative modifier type: +-[modifier]
Examples: dice+1d100 = a 1d100 roll, dice+1d100+10 = a 1d100 roll with a +10 modifier.
Spoiler: [ spoiler ]spoiler[ /spoiler ] or by pressing alt+s in-thread (doesn't work in OP)
>QM question:
Are there any special occasions you mark in your quests/traditions that you do? Even something like asking questions at the beginning/end of the thread or art for certain points in the story.
>Player question:
What would encourage you to make a fanwork (art/a side story) of a quest you like? Does /qst/'s nature as a 4chan board make you less inclined to? Have you ever made something for a quest you like before?
>General question:
What are you looking forward to for April Fools, the annual 4chan bit, something elsewhere, or gimmick quests? If you're answering this after April 1st, do you have any expectations for increased activity in the upcoming season(s)?
>Lurker question:
If you can make it to vote, vote! If not, when are you reading quests? Somewhere you can't easily post? Are you a phoneposter or simply a PC lurker?
>Miscellaneous question:
If you won the lottery tomorrow but you had to buy 4chan, how would you improve the /qst/ing experience? *drip* *drip*
You wake up with the rhythmic yet heavy drops of water falling on your parched lips
"Ugh where am i?", you ask yourself knowing full well you can't answer the question
As you sit up you feel a comforting moonlight blinding you for a moment under its ethereal gaze.
After coming to your senses you find yourself trapped in a chasm spanning who knows how far.
A feeling of dread washes over you, reaching into your ashy lab coats pockets you find a wrinkled letter as though written in a hurry, "Expieriment failed, code black, failed to select ideal dimension"
With nothing but your surroundings how will you survive? Beware there may be monsters, although similar to earth, this universe is... corrupted. 
The howling of villagers had pierced through the shambling woods.
With how upset they were, and their chasing, they might just as well have scared the noonday sun into dusk.
Crud! Those villagers did not have to punch your party an early ticket to Heaven.
Or Hell. You paid good money for your party. And getting chummy was not a part of their stipend.
You could only guess where their souls were laid after this mess.
At least they could have spared one maid... Another pair of fleeing hands and feet could have taken care of luggage duty… What you were able to grab with you before dashing.
Which was not a lot, really. There were the items on your person too, which still wasn’t a lot. Still. Still.
The clothes on your back, yellow crosses, a bell, your manual. But still—
Scratch that. Forget the manual.
Not when she had taken full custody of the thing. Good grief! It was just one problem after another.
After you had cut your pursuers loose and got your silken robe torn at the hem, she popped out of nowhere.
She pretended to hide her giggling, spying at the tattered inquisitor's gown flashing your hosiery-wrapped ankles. But boy, she was bad at it.
She couldn’t. Not with her obnoxious grin.
(cont.) 
Last time, you began the day with the idea of introducing your Bestie to your family and friends, then this all shaped into a different monster, and now you’re at Nariko’s former luxurious apartment trying to enjoy lunch together. One that you cooked.
You took the chance to reconnect with Chio — who pretended to be amnesic about the events of the Bubble — but due to a misunderstanding by Nariko, you’re in her room taking care of this sickly mother with her daughter. Yes, Chio’s excessive blushing made your OG hobo believe that she was feverish from overworking. It appears to happen often, but this is the first time Nariko has decided to put her foot down and force her mom to take a break.
“F-For the last time, I’m not sick, Nariko! Stop disobeying me!” Chio grumbles as she’s inside the bed.
“I’m sorry, Mother. The thermometer clearly stated your fever!” Nariko won’t relent. Going full-tomato gets you feverish? The more you know... “I’m no passive bystander any longer, you must rest!”
“Okay, here we go…” You arrive with the food on a tray, you had to go back to the kitchen to find one. “Still warm, I feel.” More like you’re praying… You didn’t do all of this for it to be cold!
“Thank you, Johnny!” Nariko appreciates you dearly. “My mother is overwhelmingly stubborn, I know with your presence she has no option but to behave.”
“I’m NOT stubborn.” Chio grits her teeth.
“Then prove it! Rest!” Nariko challenges. Chio is clearly not prepared to handle her daughter talking back.
“Or eat. Your food’s ready.” You wiggle your eyebrows like the one-note character you become after cooking.
“T-This is so upsetting...” Chio misses the happiness she felt a few minutes ago.
“Well, it doesn’t have to be. The others want to cheer you up.” You announce what Yu Yan, Crossbill, and Amelia want to do. “A happy patient is a healthy patient.”
“That doesn’t make a lick of sense.” Chio doesn’t want anyone here. Her is mouth watering a little...
“I have to concur...” Nariko clearly doesn’t like going against your idea, but she has to.
“It’s Yu Yan’s idea though. She watched a movie about a clown doctor curing people with laughter and/or witchcraft, then there’s a murder mystery at the end or something.” You quote Yu Yan word by word even though you didn’t pay much attention.
“If that’s something they believe will help, there’s no reason to decline.” Nariko thinks this through and comes out with the best conclusion.
“There are plenty of reasons.” Chio frowns.
“And we will use none of them…” You shrug.
The Objective is to cheer up Chio to cure her!
What do you do?
>Bring Amelia first.
>Bring Crossbill first.
>Bring Yu Yan first.
>Just ask Chio to eat her food again. That’ll “cure” her.
>Write In. 
In the land of Orrosta, the old gods are stirring once more. The wrath cycle, a never-ending war for control over the planet, starts anew. Drakkaru, (the god of dominion) thought to be dead by the other gods, is nearly free of the prison which has bound him for so long, and the Bellatists, (those who worship him), are gathering their strength. Cultists, full of hatred and malice, or perhaps simply stupidity, perform dark rituals of void, allowing for horrid creatures to escape their confinement. The horsemen of death and bloodshed ravage the land, leaving little but destruction. New elemental lords emerge, ready to consume the world. Yet, some good does stand. Mechaine (The god of machines, innovation and commerce), prepares the tin heads and men of iron, to strike out against the corruptive forces. Selene and the sons of Solantis work to uphold virtue and honor in the hearts of men. In this endless struggle, small forces can tip the balance. Can a ragtag group of adventurers discover the true nature of the world, and finally put an end to the wrath cycle?
This is a very loosely structured sandbox adventure, set in a world of my making. The sky is the limit for what can be done. If you wish to join, just give me a brief overview of your character, and we can work to make it in line with the lore of the world. I intend to properly start in roughly 3 days, so ensure you submit a character before then if you want to join. 
Gruq wake up.
Grug was sleep on fur and rock. Rock warm from fire. Fire now ember.
Light from sun outside light up inside of cave. Grug see tribe. Tribe still sleep. Light hit Grug Eyes. Grug lift up hand to block light. Grug see hand.
Grug is You! Joy! Grug take moment to appreciate life.
Grug take introspective look at life so far. Grug achieve much! But what Grug Do?
>Hunter
Grug strong like beast. Grug hunt and fight with club, spear, rock, bow, and more. Grug Kill to feed tribe. Grug protect tribe! Other say Grug dumb. But Grug say "Who care?"
>Gatherer
Grug sly, hardy. Grug know what fruit to eat, what grass makes feel good, what berry make feel good or bad. Grug know plant like hand. Other say Grug weak. They no say that when hungry.
>Crafter
Grug handy with tool, build and make things for tribe. Grug Cut hide, put up wall, knap flint. Grug make spear, pretty thing, and ropes. Other say Grug useless, without others. Grug know work important.
>Knowledge Keeper
Grug know things. Grug Smart. Track star and moon. Grug track herds and clouds. Grug Know when it rain, Grug Know when it stop. Grug say sky fire happen soon, it does. Grug keep record on wall, Like keepers before him.
>Barterer
Everyone think Grug nice, warm. Even beast and animal. When Elders meet with other tribes, Grug with them. Grug make trade with travelers. Everyone happy. Some people think Grug too trusting. But they think say that to Grug be mean.
>Mystic
Grug See Spirits of things, dead elders and trees and beast. Grug learn under shaman. To cast bones and see future, to shoot fire from hand and talk to beast. Grug not yet at that level of skill yet. Grug learning.
>Grug not fit any of these.
Grug life not this. Grug Something else.
>>[QM here, all these have potential to grow in power, and are not contained by just their little description. Have Fun, Good Luck!] You start in a grotto with and empty campfire with no fuel, there is a pot hanging on a spit. It is empty. There are 2 known paths from your spot. To the north, a desecrate mountain range. To the south a luscious swamp.
>You are carrying 3 things. {even, odd, even}
Your roll number in last 3 digits determine if what you say is true. IF it does not match Rice-King decides what you have. 
