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). 
The rain lays a cold shroud over Edo. This is the time they call the Shogun’s peace, a time of order, but for you it is only a different kind of war. The battlefields are teahouse tatami and shadowed alleys, the weapons are rumor and insinuation. You are a soldier in this war, but all you feel right now is the pricking of rainwater on your nape, where your sedge hat fails to shelter.
He arrives without a sound, a dark shape detaching from the deeper shadows. His indigo hakama is fine silk, pristine against the alley’s filth; his hand rests on the hilt of his sword. He does not greet you.
"Well?" The word falls like water on hot iron, brief and stinging.
You fix your gaze on a straw sandal half-buried in dirt and murmur what you overheard: Assistant Director Matsuda, drunk on sweet potato shochu at the Plum Blossom, cursing Commissioner Ito's mother for birthing such a "stone-headed fool," and boasting how he'd reallocate the district's tax rice once Ito "chokes on his own righteousness." A small, pathetic secret.
In the samurai's silence there remains only the patter of the rain and your steady pulse. "The fool has signed his death warrant in sake fumes." He might be discussing the weather. "It will serve."
His fingers barely move. Copper sen scatter at your feet, one rolling to rest against a fish head. The sum wouldn't buy half a bowl of buckwheat noodles.
"Keep listening," he commands, and then he is gone, melting back into the city's neat geometry.
You are alone again with the rain and the smell of the wet earth. The coins wink up at you from the mud. Here lies the worth of Matsuda's career, his family's prospects, his ancestral name. Here lies also your own worth, measured in base metal. How simple it would be to leave them for the next beggar, then to vanish into Edo's ten thousand faces.
But you can’t. Something holds you here, bound to this life. A reason you endure the cold, the contempt, and the filth. A reason you will, in the end, kneel and pick those coins out of the muck.
What is it?
[ ] Duty: You are bound to a clan, a family, or this spymaster himself. This servitude is an obligation you must fulfill, no matter the personal cost. Your life is not your own to command.
[ ] Grudge: This life of spying is merely a means to an end. The handler is a tool, the humiliations a whetstone. You are gathering the power and secrets needed to destroy a specific person who wronged you, and no price is too high.
[ ] Secret: You are a ghost, living a lie. The name you use, the face you show the world—it's all a fabrication. This dangerous life is a sanctuary compared to the truth you are running from, and your handler is the one who guarantees your continued existence. 
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: Cindy managed to convince the Kaiju King to aid her in eliminating Varnae, and forged an official contract of sorts with Mercy. But not soon afterwards, Monster Metropolis was attacked by an army of the undead! Together, with the help of Harpy, Deadhead, Shaggy, and, surprisingly enough, Louise the Nightguard, Cindy fought back against the undead menace and even spared time to rescue those in need.
The plan was going great, until Cindy was forcefully teleported back into the Kaiju King's palace, where she found her grandmother lying unconscious in the center of crowd of monstrous citizens! In an act of desperation, Cindy used the Bloodstone shard that Wilhelmina had granted her to save her grandmother's life!
Young rose from her comatose state soon after, and with her help, Cindy managed to convey her intention to eliminate Varnae to the rest of his victims. Now, the counter-attack can truly begin!
But what will happen to Cindy's friends? Will the Bloodstone have any long-term negative effects on her grandmother? Will Cindy continue to grow additional tails?
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
Costumes:
https://pastebin.com/5Jie54X2
10 Commandments of the Desperados:
https://pastebin.com/Qpr2jVPE
The Huntsman’s Travel Guide:
https://pastebin.com/PU6LWsip
Upcoming Events in the Maximum Universe:
https://pastebin.com/DceSEjiR Excerpts from the letters of Saint Sidonius Apollinaris
"And the dark mist settled upon the Isles like a blanket of doom. The Empire had left The Isles a generation ago and few from the continent dared venture across the channel, for the first few who tried never came back. The fools who went chasing after them all met the same fate. Dark things dwell in the waters and only on the summer solstice does the mist clear, it is an empty land bereft of God. There is nothing there for decent men, only for the desperate, the fools, and the wicked” 
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 have departed from Vault 54, the only home you've ever known, your whole world contained in an underground cavern, one high tide away from being a sunken tomb. Together with three others, you find yourselves inside a capsized ship, your raft having taken you across stormy waters. A rusty bulkhead stands ahead...
Not the QM, just doing them a favor It is a regular civ thread, but you can only choose a female human leader for your civilization.
Describe what kind of leader you want and the story we should write for her.
These threads usually have very few players, so feel free to go into great detail. Choose race, location, tech level, who is the leader, what makes the leader special and a goal for your civilization.
Also choose if gods and/or magic are a thing and what kind of gods/magic you want to see. 
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 achieve your fullest potential.
Richard had a plan. You didn't like the plan. The plan involved spending a lot of time with him, drilling your current weak points, and it's not that you thought it was a bad plan. It was a reasonable plan, and he said it all reasonably, like he'd been doing— he'd been reasonable ever since you learned he killed your father.
You couldn't tolerate it. You'd been tolerating it, admirably well, you thought, since you'd kill him later. Your father would be avenged, later. But it had been weeks, later was nowhere in sight, and Henry had picked the scab off the wound. Now when you thought of your father, Henry's voice in your head went He wanted more than anything to be good for your sake. And when you looked at Richard's new and stupid and reasonable face, you thought: He's trying to be good for my sake. Or the world's sake. Or something.
And it was too little and far, far, far too late and you hated him more than anybody else in the world. You hated his plan, too, and told him where precisely he could put it, and how deep. You told him you'd be taking Annie (well, you couldn't just leave her) and finding Cult HQ and getting Henry to help you practice. Because he said he'd help, and he didn't kill your father.
Richard was only a voice: you couldn't see his face. The voice sounded a little annoyed, but it said, reasonably, that if you had to be petty, at least Henry was likely the best alternative. As long as you actually stayed on track, Charlotte.
You wanted more than anything for him to call you a stupid bitch and shock you or possess you or knock you out and make you wake up a week later with a snake neck or something. But he didn't do that, so you wrote Gil a note and left for the Fen.
Several days of continuous worm-revival efforts had honed your Earth Powers. You still couldn't make earthquakes or sinkholes or anything, to your disappointment, but now when you stuck yourself underground and really concentrated you could sense pretty far. And distinguish different sources of vibrations, too, even if you didn't exactly know how. Through your Heroic Intuition. Anyways, you didn't need much Heroic Intuition to sense Annie, who was waiting pretty much where you left her. You'd given her instructions, but you were still pleased they got followed.
It was trivial, while underground, to tap into Annie's vast dim mind, and to say Up, and to return to your body just as her jaws snapped through the surface. You pet her rubbery bulk and chewed the gross gulfweed— strangely difficult with your teeth shaped the way they are— until you drooled brown saliva and went cold. You thought through a haze of Henry, Henry, come on, Henry, until Henry appeared.
(1/a lot) 
Last time, you stole one of the most damning documents this country has ever seen. You have a piece of paper that implicates every single influential figure nationwide and some internationally, with some of the most heinous crimes they can think of: offing each other. And in your (and your friends) hands you have the power to decide what to do with it…
But there’s no reason to rush it. You need a break, no matter what people say, Go-Karting is tiring! And you find the perfect place to rest here in the Former Prisoners’ home, and said girls are very interested in helping you relax. You’re their heroes!
Yes, that includes Vera. You’re both being pampered. Your head is resting on Beth’s lap as the rest of your body extends through the couch. Similarly, Vera is resting on Sally’s in a different couch. Zyra is going side by side offering her help.
…
Kushi and Vortexia are sitting on some comfy square seats of the same set as the couches. They’re watching…
Crossbill is busy figuring things out in her room. Due to the stuff that has been happening the last few days, her place is a mess! She’s hiding the Scroll to not worry about it for the stay.
You’re supposed to make lunch with Kushi, but…
“I told you two to enjoy it, but…” Crossbill peeks down from the second floor’s railing and watches you two have an impromptu spa session.
“I deserve this…” Vera loves it. The pirate girl smiles upon hearing it! Your soft nods make Beth happy too.
“They’ve been like this for a while.” Vortexia has been helping you when Zyra gets too busy with Vera.
“I prepared some ingredients.” Kushi shows up from the kitchen. “Whenever you’re ready to cook, Noon. I’m here waiting.”
You promised her you’re gonna help...
Since everyone is here, you can spark some conversation! You gotta learn about all the girls in here, including Vera!
Anything to ask?
>No, you lazy duck, go and make them lunch. Being pampered can wait a little!
>Maybe a few questions. It’s time to get to know each other!
>Ask Crossbill where the other members of the Prison Party are. You know there are more than 3!
>Write In. 
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.
In the three months you have spent in this foreign nation, you have overcome encounters with trained assassins, malicious cultists, former rivals from Fodlan, and even the ancient spirits that once ruled this land. Now, your path has finally led you to the Sorcerer Capital, where the world’s strongest warriors have gathered to compete. Your cousin, Bronte Weaver, whom you have not seen in over three years, awaits you.
>Tristain d’Rusalka
>Level 35/50 Wyvern Lord (EXP: 50/100)
HP: 69/69 (130%)
Strength: 37 (75%)
Magic: 25 (50%)
Speed: 25 (40%)
Defense: 27 (70%)
Resistance: 19 (50%)
Luck: 21 (65%)
>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), Bolt Axe (+14 ATK, Ranged, Targets RES) 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 damage 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)
Combat Art: Hit and Run: (Perform an attack that allows you to dodge the next harmful attack. Increases SPD by +7 for 1 turn. Costs 2 Crest of Indech Charges)
>Items: Concoction x5 (+20 HP), Light Rune x2
>Gold: 24,800
>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 
“Extensive.” You state a moment of thought later. “Forge-Master Kelbanx is to be assigned to zone…” You start to rattle off a series of orders, only to catch yourself. The Surewrought. The voidship seems odd, the damage being as extensive as it is, requires further investigation and research. Presuming xenos activity, it could very well be damaged by esoteric and so far, unknown weapons, or something even worse, perhaps worse than what the first Fabricator-general had encountered. This requires an expendable asset in the worst case, and one that could be controlled in the best case. ”No. Assign Forge-Master Kelbanx to investigate Surewrought.”
”As you command, Fabricator-General.” The Voxmaster swiftly responds.
”Forge-Master Belogophor is to re-establish contact with the planetary garrison within Special Military Exclusion Zone Alpha Alpha 1. Forge-Master Alsmer will secure the planetary capital of Nova Anveradon. Forge-Master Krahr is to disperse amongst farmlands and floodlands to investigate if production cycles have been impacted. Afterwards, they have full autonomy to pursue their objectives as they see fit.”
Having finished giving out your orders, you stand in silence, your bionic legs not feeling any discomfort from the task. Before you, the thick coverage of world-wide fertilizer and the ever-present bloom of green encompasses the world as the remaining voidships of your fleet begin to spread and prepare to either enter geosynchronous orbit or to take up defensive positions around said ships. Soon enough, the void will be ablaze with landing craft as thousands will be ferried to their destinations. You cannot help but wonder, how many of them shall perish…how many of them shall join the silent crowd in their judgement of your decisions.
Finally, your mind does shift back to Deimea, and to Odysseus. With the fleet gone, your paranoia of a potential Orkish invasion of your home is flaring up, but you dismiss these thoughts as irrelevant to your current situation.
-
(End of POV shift.) 
You are Noel Tiberius di Hazaran, queen of the realm whose name you share. Until two days ago the “continent” was just some far-off place to you, a place from which armed soldiers and their war machines would arrive to do mischief in your homeland. But now, on the second morning after your arrival, it feels oddly normal.
Sure, the standard of technology is a hundred years ahead of your own home – two hundred in terms of military technology. That’s entirely by design of course. It wouldn’t help the old Organization to have your people using equivalent technology to their own, or else you might be harder to control. But beyond that technology, some of which is gradually being introduced even back home in Hazaran, there isn’t much other than the scale of the land itself that strikes you as being especially foreign.
Perhaps you could say that the prominence of Hazaran’s mountains is much more dramatic, rising as they do across a much shorter distance from the sea to dominate the center of the island landmass you’ve spent the balance of your life on. Maybe there’s more evidence of modern amenities visible from the streets, and the presence of automobiles is somewhat jarring when compared to the horses, wagons, and carriages you’d normally expect. You’re not even sure how many of the people walking between stores and cafes and private homes have even seen a horse. But more broadly their daily lives aren’t too dissimilar from your own subjects’.
There is however one difference that’s relevant to you – the complete lack of yōma.
They’ve been rare these days even in your homeland, though they still do certainly exist. It’s actually something of a mystery how any have appeared after the loss of the Organization’s labs at Lavinia, which by all accounts should have been the end of it.
Add that to the list of questions you’ll want to try getting answered while you’re here.
To do that, you’ve made certain arrangements with the local government. It was a bureaucratic wrestling match just to get the powers that be to consider letting you do what you’ve come all this way for, and even at that it’s plain to see that they don’t like it. Just the word “asarakam” carries such a weight here that at least in this country its utterance carries actual legal penalties under normal circumstances, and so the first challenge was to convince the representatives of the government that your case wasn’t normal.
Now comes the hard part. You’ve convinced the people you needed to convince to get information on the location of one of the asarakam. That means now you and your cohort get to go and find that asarakam, approach them, and establish a dialogue – hopefully without it coming to the sort of violence only awakened beings and partially-awakened warriors are equipped for.
>1/2 
Grand Zen-Oh, the omni king and ruler of the omniverse has declared there will be a massive tournament to be held in his honor. A grand affair between several universes, each battling it out for the very right to exist. And at the forefront of this grand spectacle will be the Saiyans of Universe 7, who Grand Zen-Oh has grown fond of watching battle. Twenty eight years ago, the Saiyan race were annexed into the PTO as just another race, one of many sent to conquer other worlds. Now, the Saiyans are widely regarded as the strongest warrior race in the entire Seventh Universe, defenders of the PTO led by their strongest, the “Dragon of New Salda” General Karn and his family.
You the players will (most often) control Karn. A man who has grown from his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733 to become not only the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759, but also personal friend to the former emperor Lord Freeza, father to well over a dozen powerful and unique children, a mentor and teacher to his fellow Saiyans, and the best hope for his universe's continued survival. No one warrior can hope to battle eight other universes' strongest fighters alone and hope to prevail, one man's power and skill won't be enough to overcome the looming threat of extermination. But this coming battle will be the ultimate test of how you've lived your life until now, the choices you made not only for yourself, but for the fate of your entire universe.
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 three correctly-rolled dice
>At ten minutes past your previous roll, and there are not yet enough rolls, you may roll an additional roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100
>99s or paired rolls may net you extra bonuses
>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 also find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j61ts42E2Ms
UNIVERSAL SURVIVAL 
You close your eyes and lean back in your chair, taking a deep controlled breath. The pitter-patter of rain against a window overseeing the lake had always calmed you. It was an indication of how far you had come, how far you had led your people, to go from but a scant few in prebuilt fabs, huddling together against the raging storm, to now have tamed the waters of your surroundings and not only built shelter from the merciless winds, but to have grown and prospered.
And now ? Now that your people are safe, now that their bellies are full and their heads empty of constant worry about the danger of the morrow ? They go and try to kill your son ! To add to the farce, as the bastard tried to blow Magnus’ head off, he had the gall to proclaim his respect for you ! Your wife, Celyn, understandably wants blood, rivers of it for every drop that Magnus had lost. You really cannot blame her for it, if it were you a few decades younger you too would have made sure that there was hell to pay in a more…brutal manner.
Seeing as how you will be sixty in a few years’ time, a lot of the fire and brimstone that had made up your gut had long since cooled. You have to admit, despite wanting to dig out Coen’s guts and use them as decorations, a curious feeling of serenity holds onto you.
It is rare for you to be so sure of mind and purpose without even a moment’s hesitation. The rule of law will be upheld. You will ensure that there are no calls of claims of tyranny, no abuses of power…well, bar maybe one, as Magnus will need a proper command of his own, and it just so happens that the recon corps is lacking a leader. But besides that, perhaps out of romanticized ideals of nobility, or just nostalgia for when you were much younger and naïve, the whole point behind nobles is that they are supposed be bound by ideals of honour, duty, a certain noblesse oblige. An ideal you hope to embody and set down the precedent for the generations that shall follow your own.
Opening your eyes, you look at Celyn. She seems so tired, so worn, her light brown hair already has streaks of grey running across them, wrinkles are apparent where in your memory there were none. She has gotten old, and so had you.
“Dear.” You say, your voice even, the list of names still slowly moving before your eyes. “I cannot become a tyrant. I will not become a monster that slaughters its own people out of paranoia.”
“It is not paranoia to take necessary precautions to ensure the safety of our children !” She says, her choler rising. 
Threads 1, 2, 3: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Halo:%20Spartan%202%20War%20Reports
_
Sven-033's Qualities: [Special] Giant, [Special] Spartan-II, Maverick, Officer [Lieutenant], Wunderkind, Inspiring.
Sven-033's Advancement Paths: Brawler 4/10, Bulwark 3/10, Grenadier 3/10| Diplomat 1/6, Infiltrator 1/6. Scrounger 1/6| Jotun 1/4
Sub Objective Progress: Artificial Artisan 1/?| Bladebreaker 1/?
_
Current Mission: Mission 3: Operation: COLLATERAL DAMAGE
_
Purple team (Sven-033, Shika-108, Jorge-052, Daisy-023]
Primary Objective: Safely Escort Dr Halsey to the ONI blacksite, end its lockdown, retrieve vital personal and research
Sub Objective 1: Repel the Covenant assaulting the research lab, and gather data on their tactics, troop composition
Sub Objective 2: Extract all the site personal and researchers, and retrieve all prototypes intact/ undamaged
Secret objective 1: Earn the trust of and successfully recover the Site's Ai, Amphitrite
Secret objective 2: Capture or Kill Commander Tag 'Zutam , leader of the Covenant Siege Force
_
Violet Team (James-005, Nesta-097, Dimas-012, Grace-093)
Primary Objective: Defend the settlement Black Reach and Neutralize the Covenant invasion force
Sub Objective 1: Discover why the Covenant are attacking the Mining settlement and what they're looking for, capture it and gather data on Covenant war operations
Sub Objective 2: Deal with the local United Rebel Cell Front.
Secret objective 1: File Encrypted
Secret objective 2: File Encrypted
Secret objective 3: File Encrypted
__
Mood Music: https://youtu.be/GLzKPacu5y0
_
But planning without knowing the full situation, how much time the colony had left, and what the odds were would be worse than doing nothing at all. Making your choice to swallow the bitter medicine and get it over with quickl; despite your personal feelings towards the Commander in charge of the defense of Alpha Corvi II, Commander Yao was your superior officer and was more knowledgeable about the defense efforts present circumstances
"Shika, I'll get patched up when there isn't any work that needs me on my feet" You say, patting the shorter girl on her shoulder, your face reflected in the gold tint of her visor. You could imagine and picture clearly the face she had to be making under her helmet.
"Fine" She said in a huff, and flicked her still wet with blood scalpel around, before securing it back into her medical kit "Not much I could do with all the armor on anyways"
"You really should stay off your feet, Sir" Jorge warned, looking up from staring gloomily at his hands, his wisp of a mustache stuck to his upper lip from sweat
"You want to be the one to force him to stay still?" Daisy asked, lifting up her head as you shakily rose to your feet.
"Where's the bridge?" You ask, turning to Squad Skua, who were still picking their jaws off the floor and gawking after seeing how young you and your squadmates were underneath your helmets.
Cont You are a racist queer. You don't know why you were born this way, but your goal is to become the most famous and popular entity in your community. Completing all your daily quests is important, along with planning rarer and more significant core moments. In racist queer quest, you are going to slay, rizz, and plus your way to the top.
Create your character:
>Gender
>Orientation Lesbian, Gay, Bi, T, Queer, Plus
>Race White, White-passing
>Nationality
>Religion Xtian, Halloween
After recognizing your existence, it's time to do stuff
>Do a daily stuff
>Try to get gay married 
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
_
After the bloody first contest of the Core Formation Stage of The Palace of Natural Laws sect's (宫殿的野生彝宪, Gōngdiàndīyěshēngyíxiàn) first tournament, the victor who overcame the most terrifying and vicious stellar monsters you could capture, Xie'e Mowangzi (Evil Devil Prince, 邪恶 魔王子) lays before you, recovering from his wounds and waiting to hear what virtuous deeds you expect him to perform to be allowed to enter through the gates of your shrine and join your heretical yet oft kindly sect.
As the reborn demons behavior and acts would reflect not only upon the Palace of Natural laws, but also its master, (欢流血, Happy Bloodshed/ Happy to Shed Blood), your very own illustrious self, and you don't want to welcome a heartless devil into your sect and give them free reign to terrorize the lands and people under your protection and rule, you need to give him a test that'll prove that he is capable of doing good and acting respectfully and won't meander off one day to slaughter and refine a village or go hunting his fellow daoists for sport without a good reason or excuse. Fortunately, you know exactly how to see if he is capable of acting right mindedly or not. A variation of the journey Magical beasts under go to attain their human for, except to see if the reincarnated demon is able to show empathy, mercy or any other quality deemed a virtue by wider society.
"Charity won't prove your heart is capable of containing something besides malice and bloodthrist" You sweetly tell him, wearing an imperious, domineering expression that is completely opposite to your ginger and silken voice "Even a miser can do charity work, if they think it'll make them wealthy, and demons I know can pretend to love someone until they've matured and fattened enough to their tastes"
"Aren't you friends with a spider demon?" He asks plainly, frowning and stroking his chin in thought
"One who is more human natured than demonic" You cackle "And I have nothing against demons living as they desire, until they piss me off, bother me or try to eat me. But, lets not get sidetracked. You need to prove your heart is, if not human, than not corroded by and controlled solely by malice. That you're a devil with at least a little nobility, enough to coexist with my subjects and other students"
"And how should I prove that I am not the most vicious of devils?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious
Cont 
Oh, that is just great! Here you go again.
Last time you were a small time thief. You did the best you could to rise with the hand dealt to you, but you were too dumb to learn magic.
So all you did was steal as much gold as you could and stash it all away.
Who knows, maybe it will come handy?
But this time around you're aiming big. You want to gather enough essence to be born at least an Elemental Scion.
Though the fuckers do gatekeep hard.
Once you were one of them. In your first life. But you figured you wouldn't have enough time to complete the great work.
So you bound your soul to a soulstone and hid it in the ethereal plane.
Whenever you die, your soul is pulled away from the afterlife towards the soulstone.
After awhile, you regain your consciousness.
Then you need only traverse the endless expanses of the ethereal plane to gather enough essence, wait until a stillborn baby's soul leaves a free body for you, then you can incarnate again.
The thing is, in here, you gotta get creative to find yourself some essence. There is a lot, but it is always hidden, protected or some kind of trap to eat YOUR essence.
Where are you going to gather some essence?
> The Essence Mine. Ran by chained specters working for some lich, they recruit anyone capable of mining essence from raw emotional geodes they pull from the material plane using a stable warp portal. Very fancy stuff. They charge 50% of all the essence you can mine. Sometimes other miners try to steal your essence. The safest option. The only problem is that it takes FOREVER. And who wants to work all day forever? You will be born incredibly lazy.
> The Debt Collector. You... er... kinda of owe a lot of essence to some shady shades from the shadow dimension. You could always try to get a little bit more essence squeeze out of them. Even if they don't lend you any essence, they could have a good idea of how to get some. The danger is they might trap you into a Pain Crystal for all eternity for being such a bad debtor. Pain essence, you heard, is almost as good as actual essence. But it is useless to you. Once they release you, it is game on again! You will be born cold and psychopathic.
> The Ethereal Beast. A colossal, invisible leviathan glides through the endless ethereal skies. It feeds on residual essence, like a whale feeds on krill. Lots of creatures drift near it to eat its droppings. After a few eternities of eating leviathan shit, you might be able to get enough essence. The problem is there are competitors, even for eating shit. You will be born very beautiful though. Maybe with a propensity for coprofagia.
> The Gate of Neverborn. A locked gate leads to where all the unborn ideas live adrift. Sometimes, a little scrap of Pure Potential escapes. Over many eternities, you may be able to gather enough essence. But you'll be reborn with a mind full of stolen dreams, yearning to be accomplished. That can be dangerous.
> Write in (come up with ways to get essence, and a trait) 
You are Uzumaki Naori, leader of Amegakure village – something you did not come by easily.
There have been many moments over the years when you’ve come close enough to Death to feel his breath on the back of your neck, and you have the scars to show for it. Some days it’s come to feel as if you’ve become his right-hand woman. But some days… some days you actually face a genuine challenge that reminds you why you’ve fought so hard to get where you are. This day is rapidly shaping up to be one of the latter.
“Well then,” you sigh, rubbing idly at the back of your neck. “I wish that’d left me more time, but here we are.”
“How do you mean?” Fū asks with a little frown. “I mean I get you think he’s gonna make an attack today, I just didn’t follow the reasoning all the way.”
“If I had to guess he’d be after that brat my son ran into,” you reason, “the one Delta went to Konoha chasing after. He’s never shown any urgency, but either this fight’s put some urgency into him or it’s cleared the way depending on how Naruto and Sasuke fared.”
“Cause now Konoha’s weaker,” Fū nods.
“Konan-sensei and Kakashi-sensei are nothing to sneeze at, but they’re short of the raw power to face an enemy who can fight Naruto and Sasuke at the same time.” That’s not an indictment of either of them, to be fair. But they exist at a level of ‘extraordinary’ that doesn’t reap the benefits of close spiritual ties to demigods, which is what Naruto and Sasuke have both inherited after meeting with Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo.
“Correct me if I am mistaken about this, Naori-san,” Matatabi-han interjects, speaking again through Yugito’s voice, “but is conventional wisdom not that you are the ‘weakest’ among the three of you?”
You ponder that for a moment – it’s not exactly untrue. Naruto has Kurama while Sasuke has ‘natural’ rinnegan and fully-matured sharingan, and both of them have been enhanced by old man Hagoromo’s meddling. Not having a tailed beast means you’ll always be weaker than Naruto in terms of raw power, since that raw power magnifies the effects of senjutsu chakra to a point you can’t match even with your enhanced variation of the same basic form. Sasuke’s a bit harder to estimate, since much of his power comes from his dōjutsu rather than raw power, but the end result is about the same in many regards. Both can use massive chakra avatars that can level mountains for example.
You shrug. “So yeah, you know as well as I do, Matatabi-han… sometimes ‘conventional wisdom’ isn’t.”
Matatabi-han blinks Yugito’s eyes slowly, with a distinctly cat-like air of satisfaction. “Quite.”
“Then can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
>1/? 
''Great and powerful he was, tempered in the ways of war from a young age, full of vigour and ideas. But in comparison with his father, he was overbearing and autocratic, though clever enough to hide it. His time in Mithras had given him a taste for absolute rule, and he would do his best to replicate it."
-Brother Dietpold of Marlhof monastery, Gesta Adlershorstenorum.
It was the summer of 1260 Anno Curia. After the initial setbacks suffered by the Duke of Greifswald, his eldest son and heir had brought back home new successes. Albrecht von Adlershorst had, with some success, reversed the gains made by the order since the unfortunate battle of Kleist, which saw his father crippled. Now, he had brought upon the Order of the Argent Star a new blow which erased the previous disgrace from the minds of the Greifswalder nobility.
Now, with the initiative once more on the side of the Greifswalders, the energetic heir of the duchy has resolved to use the gap in the enemy as best as possible. If he were to succeed and trample all the Vollinger Mark and Prauthia beneath the hooves of his steed. While Duke Dietrich recuperates in Rittersbach, his son Albrecht may very well claim for him a new crown….
General links of varying importance.
Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/u/Adlershorst
DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/adlershorst
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Settler%20Lord%20Quest Thread #1: http://thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6212686/
>Found Egg
>Hatched Egg
>Grew a Daughter
>Got kidnapped by the Fed
>Forced to work with the Fed 
The demon lord has been enslaving your people to dig in the obsidian mines for who knows how long. Something about gaining one soul for all eternity, and then multiplying it somehow.
One day you discovered quite by accident that the laws of hell allow your people to have a representative.
You voiced to the demon that was whipping you that you wished to become your people's representative.
He just laughed and continued whipping you.
However, a few days later, a dark wagon showed up in the mines. Those usually came full of fresh prisoners, who would be ravaged and then put to work.
It came empty.
The dark knights within singled you out and brought you into the wagon. You were took to a torture chamber.
That night, your eyes were plucked out.
You were taught to read with your hands. Ancient clay tablets. Thousands upon thousands of them. You were whipped every time you recited them wrong.
Somehow, you stopped aging. Took centuries of torture, but eventually you memorize all of Hell's Laws and Customs.
Then you were taken to the presence of the Demon Lord.
"Speak now. What is it that your people crave?"
"We crave to be Free!"
Now was the turn of the demon lord to laugh. It started as a minor chuckle. And then it became a booming laughter. And then all the demons started laughing as well.
"Very well. You owe me two souls for everyone I am freeing. The souls cannot be taken, they must be willing sacrifices. I will simply employ them in the same fashion as I've employed your people. If you cannot repay within a thousand years, I will reclaim all your people as slaves again, and also the entire plane in which I will release you. You will have to serve me for ten thousand years without complaint before you can strike a new bargain."
All his terms were in accordance to Hell's Laws and Customs. You couldn't help but agree.
He formed an island in the middle of the ocean in one of the myriad human planes. He then opened a chasm portal all the way from Hell into that island, somehow.
"Go forth and conquer this world for yourselves. Spread and remember to sacrifice the required amount. Once you pay your debt, we'll trade sacrifices for magical boons."
According to Hell's Law, a Representative must know all of Hell's Law. Merely by knowing it, he becomes Immortal. You don't understand how it works, but this is the sort of magical forbidden knowledge that changes your very being. There can be only one Representative, however. Being immortal doesn't mean you can't be destroyed. If you are destroyed, someone else Could take your place, but the spot could also be vacant for many millennia.
You have around Two Million People, unskilled, starving, who have known nothing all their lives but toiling in the obsidian mines. The island is huge, but the grimm reality sets in. Many will starve to death before you can figure out a way to eke out a living. You owe the Demon Lord Two Million Souls, give or take. 
The golden petals of many sun kissed flowers coat the stone pathways stretching for miles towards the Kingdom of Glengarrow. Many watchtowers and warrior lodgings posted along the way and throughout the outer town bustle with activity, today is the day that King Theo 'The Vulture' Helmson and his wife welcome their child to the world. The much sought after land that inhabits and grounds this very kingdom has gone through decades of war with various kingdoms. It's only the past few years that peace had been established and the area was allowed to rebuild under the iron fist of King Theo's rule and the brutal tactics that brought his dynasty victory over the other houses.
Many vines dance and are spread across the protective walls surrounding the kingdom and it's bustling town. Inside the white, stony castle walls, the Queen pushes intensely and screams out in frustration. Stains of her own blood soak the royal bedsheets as the Kingdom's best doctors and scholars work away at ensuring the soon to be newborn's safe delivery.
"Gods be praised! My lord, your babe begins to crown!" One of the gathered helpers tells King Theo.
Urgently the king gets up from his seat, intently watching as you very slowly make your first appearance outside your mothers womb. Your father's long, black hair is slick with sweat, his brow is furrowed, the stress of this hours long delivery keeping him on the edge of his toes.
Slowly and safely as possible, the medical practitioners very cautiously handle your naked body as the final preparations are made in the background of the torchlit room for your birth.
With a high pitched scream you announce your newly borned presence to this world. King Theo, your father is the first one to hold your body, now wrapped in the soothing and comfortable silk garments provided by the esteemed academics who helped delivered you. Your father passes you to your mother, Queen Ilyana Helmson.
"Theo, my love... the babes eyes are as light and blue as our crest." She says, a smile cracking across her face and resting you on top of her bosom as she lays back.
"My lord, congratulations on the birth of your son," the doctor says, drawing a fist and holding it to their own chest. "As is the custom of these lands, and just as your father had done for you. It's time to name the boy." He finishes.
King Theo grasps and rubs at his own chiseled jawline in thought..
>What is your name? 
In the name of God, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful.
The Sultana was troubled. For a fortnight she had been suffering the same dream, grim, with a startling vividness, such as she had not experienced since her girlhood. They concerned her only son, the prince, now eleven years old, perched upon that precarious threshold between childhood and maturity. Only the other day the Sultana had been devastated to learn that the prince no longer wished to play Shatranj with her. "Shatranj," he had said, "is a game for men. It is not fitting that I should play with you." This, despite that she had herself taught him the rules of the game. They were parroted words he had picked up from one of his tutors, but that was little comfort.
Some rituals are harder to erase. When the prince fell sick one dark moon, his body trembling with feverish chills, it was his mother whom he called for. His mother, to come and wipe his brow and comfort him and whisper in his ear the tales she spun so skillfully and with so much love. So she came, passing through the dark hall alone by the light of a single oil lamp.
The scent of sandalwood and night-blooming jasmine hovered thick in the lavish bedchamber.
"Ummi," the prince said, in a little lamb's voice which smote the Sultana's heart, though she showed nothing of it in her face.
"I am here," she replied, sitting down upon a silken cushion beside the bed.
"Will you tell me a story?"
"Certainly. Of whom do you wish to hear? The hunchback? The fishermen? Perhaps the Vizier's daughter?"
"No, something new. Something I have not heard before."
"As you wish. A story of the great and the small, the wise and the strong and the cruel, the ordinary and the supernatural. But I shall need your help."
"My help?" So great was his astonishment that even in his fatigue he raised himself up on his elbows, his eyes alight with pleasure.
"We shall recount the tale together."
"How?"
"Well, to begin, tell me, ya ruhi, what sort of hero this story shall concern..." 
Another day, another job. Never boring, for you are a Collector.
You are ERROR404 the Alien Collector.
Your boss is the ALIEN BUREAUCRACY, they send you into planets or sometimes stranger places to collect whatever it is that they need.
You usually collect exotic animals.
You are equipped with a state of the art FLYING SAUCER. It looks like a regular flying saucer. It can be upgraded, but you need CURRENCY. The name of your people's currency is HEADPATS, the symbol is "(>.<)". You currently have ZERO HEADPATS, you spent the last one getting a FIVE DIMENSIONAL BURGER WITH COKE AND FRIES at the local FIVE DIMENSIONAL FAST FOOD.
You're a five dimensional being, meaning you can become invisible, teleport and "edit" reality to cause matrix glitches when you are in four dimensional space. But if you tamper with reality too much, the REALITY POLICE will fine and maybe even arrest you.
What the boss wants this time?
> A Triglavian Rare Candy
> A Shinigami Ballsack Scab
> A Three Titted Fairy
> Just a regular old cow
> Write in 
Previous Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%202nd%20Primarch%20Quest
_
"Philosophy?" The Engine Near of Environmental Rejuvenation, the newest of that most esteemed council of technological sages, Exhaust 72, said as if testing the word. Ever fair Kanzeon, leaned down and with a smile that could cleanse the heavens themselves of strife, giggled and explained
"You should know my scholar is rather fixated with philosophy. You've read his attempt to preserve his kindhearted beliefs and share his world view with the world"
"Yes, The pamphlet titled the Journey was one of the first cultural exchanges we received. I find its tales to be a great source of wisdom, even if the poeticism of its lectures are somewhat overblown" The Engine Near hummed "So, you wish to discuss philosophy? Should've prepared for this, when hosting a philosopher"
"Among other things. Like your experiences with the natural world, will allow us both to understand eachothers three views much more clearly" You answer, smiling brightly despite the grunge and grime of your surroundings deep in the quarry of the soil revival center of Eternal Celestial engine
"I do not see how the that will promote deeper comprehension between our beliefs, of which I have more than three" He states, as the guided tour stops to admire a machine threshing long infertile and polluted soil to break it up, soften it and allow for its ease of transport to a different facility to cleanse it of its contaminants
"And that is because you are no philosopher. And three views is a term from Long-Jian" Kanzeon once against explain "To broadly refer to an individuals beliefs about life, the wider world and their personal values"
"Shangralan idioms baffle even the most studious minds, yet I still do not see how discussing nature will expedite our mutual understanding" Exhaust 72 states soberly, their three mechanical eyes staring towards the distance ceiling
"Much can be learned through meditating and ruminating on nature, one can learn much of the nature of the importance of struggle against seemingly unsurmountable odds by watching Carp try to swim upstream to challenge a waterfall" You answer, clapping your hands thrice in the manner Guozhi used to do "You have a fondness for nature, and speak of its designs, let us speak at length of what you, I and Kanzeon have borne witness to in nature and wax philosophical as we walk"
"I suggest our dear Engine Near leads the discussion" Kanzeon said with a jackalish smirk and Exhaust let out a drawn out sigh as he gathered and arranged his thoughts, trying to discern how best to begin a discussion of a subject he was nearly entirely unfamiliar with.
"Struggle. One flaw in the biological systems of the Ever Running Engine that I have noticed, is that more oft than the failures experienced by the manufactured replicas of their grand designs we maintain" They start
Cont 
Welcome back to Our Brave Boys, a quest that is more about worldbuilding (or loredumping) but also a somewhat light RP setting. You are all young men of 20 years of age and are part of the Nation's Apprenticeship Required for Male Youths, otherwise known as ARMY. The Nation is one of many countries of the Empire, but after decades of suppressing Republican Revolutions, the Nation emerged as the leading faction championing the Monarchy, placing the late Princess of your Nation on the throne as Eternal Empress.
The Nation has a mandatory conscription policy for all young men, who must serve for 5 years after conscription at 20 years of age. Nearly a year has passed since the quest has started, although new boys are welcome. You might want to skim through the archive to understand the lore.
To get conscripted, please take a look at the instructions in the first thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6220569/
I used to write up a short story from every post, but it's been getting difficult for me to keep up. Maybe it's because they're more thoughtful than my previous projects so it's difficult for me to add anything significant to your posts, but I am always happy to read your characters' thoughts. This thread is a good example of what I've done before: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/2021/78944717/ 
It begins with a woman, as these things often do. It was not her shapely figure, all sinuous curves, or her piercing grey eyes seemingly evaluating you, that originally caught your interest. No, that honor fell to the red dress, a thing made of hundreds of red ribbons all woven together and bound close to her flesh, showing little and hiding less. It was strikingly out of place, here on the half empty city bus as you waited for it to creak and groan and crawl across the city. Here, amidst the sour smell of last night's mistakes and today's sweat the red dress did not belong. No one else seemed to notice though, least of all the snoozing old man she stood next to.
But she noticed you. With a finger and a smile she looped a red ribbon around her finger and pulled, a strip of red coming loose, revealing a stripe of her midriff. Without quite knowing how, it is in your hands and she is gone. Life goes on. You step off the bus, you enter your office, you ride the elevator, you walk the halls, you force your face into a smile and you speak the required words of small talk.
Then, of course, you-
> Drink. Just a little of course.
> Steal. Just odds and ends really.
> Work. Just to break up the routine.
> Plot. Just one or two mad fantasies. King Protolau had three daughters, who all became adventurers. Upon learning of his death, they came back. The people discovered that one became a necromancer, another a paladin, and the youngest a gunslinger.
The council gets together to deliberate what to do.
Choose one of the daughters to be, name her, and determine what the council decided for you:
> You shall be crowned the new queen of Protoland
> You shall receive an out of the way County to rule and not annoy the new queen
> You shall be stripped of rank and forced to take the vows. However, you rebel, gather some misfits and go start your own thing in the Misty Forest 
From atop a grassy knoll, you look down upon a border town.
It's a small little village, with thatched roof cottages giving way to town houses with tile roofs as they get closer to the stone church that stands at its heart. To the ungrateful worms who call this place their home, it must be an impressive structure. A black monument of stone and steel placed to honor the demons who so graciously allowed their inferior lives to continue in exchange for a pittance in tribute. To one who has grow up amongst the demons in their cities, who received their blessings from a young age, it is nearly as pathetic as the worms you've been sent to crush beneath your heels.
"You appear to be enjoying your first command, Lady Clearwater," a rumbling voice approaches from your side. You do not need to turn your eyes to know that it is the lich Dormandal. A wise old sorcerer, and the closest thing you have to a father. "Does the prospect of slaughtering your fellow mortals truly bring you such joy?"
"Of course, my lord," you cannot keep the excitement out of your voice. "Nothing would bring me greater joy that to see all of these pathetic traitors laid out for the slaughter. To see the menfolk butchered like pigs. The woman turned into playthings for our brave soldiers..."
Dormandal gives a hollow chuckle. "Hah, I think you're the only one looking to get her lance wet. The rest of the men..."
He waves a bony hand at the forces set out behind you. One hundred rune carved skeletons split into four platoons of twenty five, each led by a skeletal champion with sufficient wits about them to lead their mindless brothers. Their bones glitter in the morning sun, dipped in steel and carved with magic runes that grant them strength and speed beyond the ken of ordinary undead. A force that cannot be scoffed at, yet at the same time insignificant enough to entrust to a freshly minted knight, thrust into command not one week after receiving her armor and her lance.
"...well, they lack the means to enjoy such things," he finishes. With a hollow chuckle, he continues. "Even I, who retain far more memories of flesh and life than they... I can appreciate what comes after a battle on an aesthetic level, but it truly doesn't do it for me."
You wave him off. "Even if my soldiers can't enjoy themselves, I'm sure the patrons of the military brothels in the capital will appreciate the spoils of this victory."
"I'm sure they'll be thrilled to receive your leftovers," Dormandal says with a shake of his head. "Ah, to be young and vigorous again. Just remember that the fun comes after the battle is won, and not before, my dear Lady Clearwater."
Your fingers drum upon the hilt of your sword. Your blackened lips curl into a frown. "I haven't forgotten, my lord. I'm simply still getting used to the Ravager's blessings. It's a truly fine lance that I've been given, but it stirs a certain eagerness in my heart that I've yet to become accustomed to." 
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/rZqfMjD5
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 beat an ass who was harassing Martha, reflected on your previous battles and cuddled with Nika while you went to sleep. Your character awakens cursed with gayness by a hag he insulted the night before when she offered herself to him.
1. What race, class, sex, and alignment are you?
2. What do? You solved it! The enygma is over when the Sphinx let her nipples shoots openning the vaultgate.
Chamber down, you see the giant being with enourmous tits! This is what you came for, as tell the tales: 
Your great great grandfather was a wizard, once an adventurer then had a tower and everything. You dream of becoming a wizard too, you have the aptitude, but you lack the training. You discovered how to cause a random burst of magical energies every other time you try on average, the main problem is that it hurts you too. That's the full extent of your current magical powers.
You live in the village of Hetyon. This village has existed for over a thousand years and never grew too big, as the youth tends to go look for opportunity elsewhere - the land is good, but the village is nestled in a valley between two mountains, so there isn't much room to expand.
They call those mountains Twin Peaks, even though they aren't the same size. The one to the west is much taller and its top is shrouded in mist. In there, your ancestor once had his tower, but now only long looted ruins remain. The one to the east is home to a lone elderly frost giant who sometimes comes down to steal cattle but otherwise stay out of people's way. There are many caves winding through these mountains, and even some mining tunnels from two old copper and silver mines, long depleted, which sometimes attract monsters. The forests around the village have also been home to many kinds of creatures, but at least for the time being seem to be pacified, or at least the local poachers don't report anything out of the ordinary.
Your ancestor was the only person from this village who ever been a wizard in all of its history. When he retired, he built the tower, but his enemies assassinated him and eventually the tower fell into disrepair and was repeatedly looted. Unbeknownst to them, his son, born from a local barmaid, live on, and gave rise to a dynasty of men who always had "strange things" happen near them.
So far none has been brave enough to pursue this gift, but you're about to change that.
It is your sixteenth birthday and you're now an adult.
"Father," you say, in a tentative voice, "I am now old enough to choose my fate. I desire to pursue the ancient craft of grampa Archibald."
"Son, I wish I had this kind of courage when I was your age. I don't have much to spare, but have my dagger, it has saved my life many times. Fill up a sack with as much provisions as you can carry and head north, for it is said there are wizards there in the legends."
You thank your father for his parting gifts, and then you ponder what to do next.
> Go visit your ancestor's tower
> Go find a companion
> Depart promptly 
Yumigawa Rushorou was plunged into a life-or-death struggle in a surreal otherworld when, one day, he went to sleep in his familiar bed and found himself thereafter in the burning ruins of a nameless city. After ten days of struggle, he emerged victorious, standing as one of very few survivors of a crucible called the Akeldama. His enemies, one way or another, were dead. His allies had been protected. The ultimate prize was his. Then he woke up.
After a 5 year gap, the promised remake is here. Sequel to Fate/City Akeldama, originally run from March to May 2019, and remake of Fate/Awakening Mirror, originally run from May 2019 to October 2020. Both quests can be found here:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Sweets-Loving%20QM
A note regarding Nasuverse canon, a sometimes confused subject even within official releases: the only things I will confirm as definitely canon to this quest are the 2004 visual novel Fate/Stay Night and the quest Fate/City Akeldama. If you bring metaknowledge from other Nasuverse sources into this quest it may turn out to be accurate, but there's an even chance it will be wrong. This can be treated as a wholly separate timeline, in the same way Tsukihime is cut off from the rules of the setting as they function in most Fate works. 
You are Booba Fett. You don't know anything at all about where the name came from, someone just called you that once and it stuck. You live in a post apocaliptic wasteland. The nukes went off and history finally ended.
You live in a Pueblo called San Björn. There is radioactive desert in all directions. Forty people live there, most of them Redskins.
The people there share what they get and are used to doing long fasts. Maybe that's why they survived this long. They built a wall with scraps and car parts, and the settlement been holding.
The village has a well, but it isn't very deep. It works more as a water storage than a water source. There is an old abandoned well ten miles to the north, deep enough to draw brackish water from. The village has a bunch of solar stills, and people often go to the abandoned well with bikewagons and jerrycans to fetch the saltwater. Could we dig a deep enough well? Maybe. But so far it proved elusive and too labor intensive to attempt. Should we move to the other site with the well? Well, genius, this was proposed many times, but the point is the damn place is built on top of rock. Nothing grows there.
What takes us to our little garden. We plant some stuff, mainly squash. It looks weird, and tastes weirder, but is good enough to feed us.
For meat, we have a pigsty. Our pigs are slightly mutated due to all the radiation, but no one complains.
Most people in the village have some kind of mutation. In your case, you just got a bunch of extra toes, abnormaly large breasts and a fucked up face. You wear a helmet you found to hide the radiation damage in your head.
Radiation also gave you a small boon:
> Fast Reflexes. You can react faster than regular humans. It is almost catlike.
> Regeneration. Your flesh regrows at an astounding rate - provided you eat enough protein. Can even regrow lost limbs, but it won't fix your fucked up face. If you're not well fed, you can't regenerate at all.
> Psychic Burst. You can subvocalize a screech that gives instant headache to everyone who can hear it. They can't actually hear it. May cause internal bleeding in their heads. Occasionally lethal. People consider you a witch.
> Write in 
Nine 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.
Strahnbrad was a quiet city, as quiet as a city full of soldiers could be, no one said anything that didn't need to be said. The civilians minded their own minds and stayed out and away from the Syndicate business. And this all suited Eligius well. For the past two weeks he had been working as a scribe to Malgren, the leader of the Syndicate forces in Strahnbrad with his “wife” Pai the Assassin helping him with the work. This had gotten Eligius close, but not close enough, at least not yet.
Durnholde had turned silent as well. The ancient forests once full of gnolls and their bickering had ceased with the campaign having reached its goals. The gnolls were dead, their warbands and camps destroyed, leaders killed. What had gathered the different armies of Hillsbrad and Durnholde together had vanished under their combined might. But with the victories came questions and obstacles. How long is the reach of the Syndicate? Are they connected with the pool of Fel found in the forest and how many swords and blades did they really provide the gnolls with? For Prince Alric a lot was ahead of him, but he wasn’t the only one who was on a mission.
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 
The TV glows and lightly illuminates the dark room. You sit hunched over yourself, anticipating the program that comes on right after the commercial break ends. Every second of waiting is worth it to you when the loud, hard rock music starts blaring from the TV speakers.
"RND ... RAPID NON-STOP DESTRUCTION!" A burly voice screams from within the screen. Many fast clips of various legendary and newly rostered wrestlers play as they perform finishers, scream, deliver signature taunts, and point at whoever is watching the program through the lens of the camera.
This is what you've been waiting for all week, the intro music blaring and the videos playing along with it gets you hyped, causing you to jump up from the spot you were sitting from and jump around your bedroom. Though this day exactly doesn't fall on any special event or finished storylines within the program, you've always loved just being a witness to the tension and fights that break out from each live event.
Just as you manage to compose yourself and sit back down, your mom calls out to you from the kitchen.
"Honey, dinner is ready! Come down here," she yells from outside your room.
You sigh, groan, and put up a little bit of a fight with yourself before complying. Standing up and opening the curtain to your room the afternoon sun lights up the previously darkened room once more, a last ditch attempt before it slowly begins setting away for the dark sky to take it's place.
When you go down to the kitchen and take a seat at the table dinner progresses by as it normally does. Your parents both ask how school was today, you simply just reply with a grunt or give a simple & diplomatic answer.
It's not until you finish your plate that your little legs race back to your room and once again you're seated in your previous state before the television. Too late to witness the beginning of today's program, an ad is blaring from your TV.
"Hey kid! Love our program? Write a letter to us and enter a chance for us to come to your city for a show!" The voice yells. Shortly after a sped up version is accompanied with a long list of fine print words like 'minimal demographic range', or 'subject to location', though you don't really understand what any of that means.
Immediately you run to the small desk in your room and pull out a piece of paper, a pencil, and get to writing.
>Your name
>Your hometown 
The gods were not born—they were.
Timeless and terrible, they shaped the void with thought and gave it order through song. Where their voices harmonized, land rose from the deep. Where their wills diverged, seas churned and the stars cracked. And when they had made a world fit for beauty and pain alike, they wove beings from golden light and named them the High Men.
These radiant children were not like the lesser beasts. They were given form eternal, bodies immune to time, and minds sharp as the storm’s edge. For thousands of years, the High Men built cities of living marble and floating stone, where music never ceased and sorrow was but a word in ancient texts. They learned to speak to fire and command the tides, and they dwelt close to the gods, basking in divine favor.
But nothing perfect lasts.
No one remembers precisely what shattered the age of glory. Some say the gods quarreled and turned their faces from the world. Others claim a great wrong was done by one of the High Men—a theft, or a murder, or a forbidden love. Whatever the truth, the Cataclysm came. Mountains split. Rivers turned to acid. The sky wept ash for a hundred years. And immortality cracked like fragile glass.
The High Men died in droves. Their shining cities fell into the sea or were swallowed by the earth. Some of the survivors pleaded with the gods for mercy. None answered. In desperation, a few turned elsewhere—to older powers, darker names carved into the bones of the world. They drank blood. They swore oaths. They became Vampires, no longer truly alive, but no longer dying. They fed on others’ lifeforce to survive, trading sunlight for eternity.
A cure was eventually discovered. It burned the curse from their veins—but not without cost. Those who took it became known as the Primeval, their skin forever marked with a bluish hue, their hunger undiminished, though no longer for blood. Their bodies healed fast, sometimes too fast. They were changed, and their children were born changed too. Neither god nor man would claim them. So they claimed nothing—and no one.
In the thousand years since, the world has shifted again. The High Men, though fewer and mortal now, have rebuilt some of their ancient halls. The Vampires brood in hidden places, fractured into cults and courts. The Primeval wander or form enclaves where the wild grows thick. And outside these crumbling legacies, the world keeps birthing the strange.
The Barbarians of the far west, unmarked by old glories, have come raiding, wielding iron and prophecy.
The Aberrations, born of warped magic and cataclysmic exposure, slither in the forgotten reaches of the world—each one a living riddle.
And the Witches, those rare few who have found power not from gods or curses, but from within—walk the line between reverence and exile, their fingers stained with the threads of fate. 
Humanity has always been famed to continue pushing the limits of the known. So when a rift in reality appeared in a nearby island, the senate quickly mounted an expedition to investigate it. You took your ships and your men and started to go through the rift. Your mages began to understand its mechanism.
However, during the transfer of a large stockpile of supplies, the rift mysteriously closed! You became stranded in this weird land.
You are Septimus, the General. You have at your disposal about half of a Legion. (some 2,000 men or so).
There are, however, no women.
The exact place were you got stranded was:
> Mana Crystal Wasteland - a vast wasteland full of many crystals, but where no plants grow. Weird monsters that feed on mana or sunlight wander the place.
> Blue Fungus Cave - a vast cave system with walls lined with blue fungus. Some exits to the surface have been located, but they are mostly out of reach, either due to height or the strange burrowing creatures that plague the region. The fungus is edible, if a bit bland, and is everywhere.
> Vast Plains - a vast field with what looks like endless amounts of wild wheat. Some of the men thought it was afterlife. Gazelles and strange predators prowl the land, and your scouts have ascertained that they saw either horsemen or centaurs in the distance, though they never approached.
> Write in 
Good morning, or evening good sirs and fair ladies. Finally, finally after an excruciating period of exams and trials and a battle against the administration of my university (but what to expect of non ordained clerks) worthy of Lancelot I graduated and I can write again this glorious quest ! Gloire !
To the veterans, and the new bannermen who join our ride against the saracens, the witches and the perfidious flemish burghers I shall give the last threads.
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5085315/ thread 1
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5134375/ thread 2
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5194246/ thread 3
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5314154/ thread 4
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5422744/ thread 5
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5422744/ thread 6
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5561322/ thread 7
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5561322/ thread 8
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5702984/ thread 9
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5785267/ thread 10
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5920163/ thread 11
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6011182/ thread 12
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6079405/ thread 13
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6157669/ thread 14
Meanwhile you, Lord Charles de Villeroi, were travelling towards the queen, who had summoned you in her mysterious Guelphish ways. had decided, in your wisdom, after vanquishing the tentacled beast of the village of Weeb, to expand your protection to their village, since their lord was distant. The land was isolated but you liked the portrait of your lady Rose that the local artist, Ankama Bing did and as a patron of the arts and great lover of having more lands and receiving more taxes from your peasantry you were sure that the locals could make good subjects. So you swore to drive away the bandit Dark Sasuke that terrorised the good people of the village and then, after returning from the Capital, to speak with their count about being his vassal and protecting this isolated place for him.
But enough talking about Lord Charles, the tradition is to begin here by a small prologue, and we shall do so for the perpetuation of Tradition is the first duty of any power. 
You wake up surrounded by a veil of clouds
'it's a dream' you think to yourself, you're incorporeal, your body seemingly unimportant, all of your sensations are dulled out, but most importantly of all,
you feel strange, extremely strange, something is not right, but it's alright, you guess, there is nothing you need to worry about, but you just cannot shake of this feeling, this *esoteric* sense of strangeness, but you're stoic, you'll figure this out.
As you come back to your senses, back to reality, you feel like you haven't left the dream world, this feeling of 'strangeness' comes back to you, it sticks to you like water, you will have to figure this out, but before that, reality comes first.
You need to prepare and get to school, you stink, but there is no time to shower, you get out of you bed and go to the toilet, your fatigue weighing heavily on your shoulders,
but the feeling of relief from pissing is a small comfort in these long days of tediousness,
you put on the same clothes you wore 2 days ago,
same with the crusty socks and raggedy shoes.
You are not poor per se, but you hardly care about appearance and you cannot be bothered with getting new shoes, you are pretty conservative about change.
you brush your hair in front of the mirror, it's gotten pretty lengthy so you started brushing it some time ago, it's thick and oily, not exactly the prettiest sight to behold, same situation with the face, oily, and nerdy due to your glasses.
You don't eat breakfast, you prefer to eat a big lunch after school, getting a good breakfast takes too much time, time that is needed to catch a bus in time to get to school in time.
As you leave your home, the cool wind eases a bit more of your fatigue. Today will be a long and boring day, these solaces cool your nerves, "well, here I go" you say to yourself.
You get on the bus and sit by a window in the back of the bus, you got your favorite spot on the bus, it's a nice feeling. As you ride the bus you reflect a bit on *Time*, the word stuck with you ever since you thought about breakfast, you sacrifice your stomach for time everyday, even if you are late decently frequently, whatever, it is what it is, you just need to get through this day, you can't be bothered with philosophy in the morning.
You leave the bus and walk to your school campus, it's modest but nice, it's the town's biggest high-school, but your town isn't too large so the school is modest all the same.
You get to your class a couple of minutes late, the class ignores you and you sit by your classmates, as the class goes on.
(1/2) 
Your name is Johan.
It is a name you gave yourself.
And you are a taxi driver.
It's all you've known. At least, it was all you'd known until recently.
A chill creeped down your back as you looked around the place. It made you memember what you'd forgotten--for a split second. And then it was gone. All you've been through recently, and all the places you've been to, the people you've met, and the experiences you've felt: From forgetting everything you've ever known, to surviving murderers and carnivals and fires, to strange dream-like mazes and sinewy shadows.
And through it all you've decided to, instead of looking over things alone, you've decided to make friends and involved them in your life. It couldn't be a bad thing, right?
A glance at the mime next to you--Mimi was her name, and she was a person that you had become extremely close to in the past few days--told you that you were in good company. She frowns as she returns the glance.
Around you, beside you, sitting in chairs, some casually eating and drinking, were the people you could call friends. Maybe you're being too generous here, considering how the Noirs were undoubtedly strange--but acting, dressing, and talking like they'd just come out of some detective movies didn't seem to help their case. Meanwhile, Jeremy--the paranormal seeker and local gym rat--had only been recently met a couple of days ago, and was interacted with for only a fraction of that time.
That same chill from before became a numbness in your thoughts, and then began to fade away. Not completely, since you had the ghost of an idea that seemed to be more like you'd recalled. Though it would be more accurate to say that you didn't recall anything new from what happened from before you'd subsequently forgotten about everything. And that was fine by you--considering you had a policy of waiting and watching and accepting any memory that you happened to chance upon you. But still, you couldn't help but smile at the thought of having all of these friends alongside you, potentially supporting you and getting your support.
"Are you alright?" The pantomimicry of Mimi silently conveys to you. "This is the second time you've spaced out."
"I'm alright." You reassured her. Your words, and her silent concern, seemed to go without acknowledgement in the table.
This was because the others were discussing what to do about Hotel Oasis--which was your current place of residence.
"Say, we ain't never did get to go to the big fish's office. Why don't you three sneak in there with the info we gave ya, see?" Mike said.
Of the Noirs, thought with their leader Jamesfield still missing, most supported double-checking everything and making sure all ends were closed and dealt with. To this end, it was suggested that you and/or Jeremy make a quick search of the place, as well as conversing with the staff there in order to see if anything suspicious was happening. You are Nicole Smith.
You're in the final frontier of your story. You're about to fight one of the four CEOs of the STILLE DAG ORGANIZATION.
The organization that has been pestering you for the last month. The organization that wishes to reclaim its old spot as B-Corp by any means necessary.
The organization that threatens the people you care about.
Let's cut to the chase, okay? We all know why we're here.
ARCHIVE: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Cleaner
MAIN CHARACTER SHEET: https://pastebin.com/3y638TfK
YOUR SQUAD: https://pastebin.com/iuaajHP0
THE OTHER SQUADS: https://pastebin.com/te2Y73Bx, https://pastebin.com/7G7zN51n, https://pastebin.com/N0AEBBFF, https://pastebin.com/75eDGWXg
INVENTORY: https://pastebin.com/n0MH6M17 
At the heart of the enemy base, when you felt you were cornered into an uncomfortable situation, you went straight to the boss and challenged him… to a Go-Kart Race. Since they began, Flame Duels have been all over the place, and this one is no exception. And what puts it over the edge is the rest of the competition. You’re not in a 1-on-1 duel with Jielun, but a full race with 8 participants — and all of them are your allies in what feels like the luckiest coincidence ever. To be fair, some were orchestrated; most of them were not.
It’s You, Jielun (your target), Vera, Aurora, Nina, Constance, Suan De, and Jesse. What an odd group.
Still, spiritually, your sole opponent is Jielun. The only objective is to beat him and no one else. Everyone else is here for flavor, or to make the race more fun! Esperanza’s flying referee was ordered to make this both entertaining and efficient. Probably all inspired by your feedback during the Tournament at the Bubble Dimension.
With no previous experience behind the tiny wheel, you’ll play it slowly to understand the vehicle’s nuances.
“Welcome, everybody, to the EXTREME… Go-Kart Racing! Codename’s Crossbill, and I’ll be commentating alongside the ever-trustworthy but totally unprepared, Clutz!” Crossbill enthusiastically starts the broadcast.
“Huh? Are we streaming this?” Vortexia is utterly confused.
“And also… this woman we found waiting outside the van!” Crossbill points at Kushi. “Why did you let her in? Was she eating some trash and you felt bad or something?”
“What is this? What are we watching on this tiny screen? Is this some kind of… video game?” Kushi sounds disgusted.
“She’s the ally Mr. Noon recruited. Like the whole thing with the cake.” Clutz explains. “I’m not entirely sure if it’s a good move, but I told her who we are.”
“And I’m here to help, I suppose.” Kushi doesn’t know if she can do much at this point.
“Oh, I imagined her older. Being such a grump and all.” Crossbill chuckles.
“Watch your tongue, woman.” Kushi didn’t like that.
“Let’s do this over. I’m Crossbill, Phil Noon’s bestie. Nice to meet ya.” Crossbill extends her hand for a handshake..
“Bestie? Like in best friend?” Kushi raises an eyebrow.
“Mhm, we’re so tight, he helped me escape prison.” Crossbill laughs.
“You keep mentioning that, and I’m beginning to think that it’s not a joke.” Vortexia wants definitive lore. 
Earth-616, 2010.
Earlier today, you announced to the public the truth.
You are Tony Stark, and you are Iron Man.
The high from the media attention was almost worth revealing the fact. It wasn’t until you had left the press conference that the thought came to you that it was a mistake. Everyone from the military to gossip magazines would hound you now, you were sure of it.
You would worry about it later. Soon, sleep overtook you. You weren’t asleep long enough to have any real dreams, but for a few moments, you remembered. Afghanistan. Captivity. Dr. Yinsen. Him, bleeding in your arms. Then, nothing. You woke with a jolt. Happy was tapping your leg from the front seat.
“Home already?”
“Yup. Have a good night, Mr. Stark.”
He left you in the driveway, but wasn’t present long enough to hear what you heard. Alarms, coming from inside the house. Strangely, none blared externally. You walked to the door, noting it had been left open.
“Jarvis!”
“Welcome home, siiiiiiirrr.” The AI’s robotic voice slurred, then stopped. Across the front room, A man looked over the balcony, out at Malibu on the horizon. He was barely silhouetted by the light. You walked towards the steps, keeping your cool. Then, he spoke.
“I am Iron Man. You think you’re the only superhero in the world? Mr. Stark, you’ve become part of a bigger universe. You just don’t know it yet.” His voice boomed and carried even while facing opposite out towards the water. He turned to face you, appearance still hidden in the shadow.
“Who the hell are you?” You looked back incredulously. How had he gotten in, and disabled J.A.R.V.I.S., at that? Happy couldn’t have been more than a mile down the road.
“Nick Fury. Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”
“Oh.” Right, like you were supposed to know whatever the hell that was.
He smiled for a moment, then spoke again.
“I’m here to talk to you about the Avenger Initiative.”
It was a blur. Earth’s ‘mightiest’ heroes, defending the weak. It sounded like shadowy, pseudo-world police. You liked the idea of being called a hero, but you did it your way. Whoever this guy was didn’t understand that.
He left you his card, and you threw it into the trash.
Terrifying. You couldn’t be left alone with your thoughts and nothing to do or no one to talk to you. A bottle of whiskey stood half-finished on an end table. You knew you shouldn’t indulge.
“Jarvis.”
“Yes, Sir?” A response, thank God.
“I want a full security system reboot, and an analysis on how that guy managed to shut you down. That’s not happening again. Oh, and-”
>”Call Pepper.”
>”Prep the Mark Three. I’m going out.”
>”Run a background on Nick Fury, and this ‘shield’ thing. I’m gonna’ go tweak the suit.”
Roll one 1d100 to avoid drinking as a part of either choice. Success DC is >=80.
(Reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2oKUsna2yvA) 
ANTON PEAS: That's your name, don’t wear it out! Whisked away by a cult ritual gone wrong to a fantasy land shrouded in perpetual darkness, it’s safe to say your life has gotten a LOT more interesting as of late.
Sure, you’ve got a few new friends to back you up: TZAH-TZIE: a spinner of songs, stories, and shenanigans, VOLKA: gentle giant and Grand Marshall of THE LAMPLIGHTERS: a volunteer group working to keep the city safe, MOROOK: a big-eyed bushman you managed to spring free of a cult base and Volka’s adopted brother, and REZALITH: a feisty fiend who decided to rush off on her own due to… well…
Look, things have gotten hairy, okay? Barely surviving an all-you-can-eat buffet of close calls during a raid on one of the infamous SPICE CARTEL’S casinos, you immediately turned your attention towards preventing a summoning ritual by THE CULT OF THE BURROWER: a group of conspirators aiming to take over the world by any means necessary… including summoning DEMONS!
During your cross-country trek, however, you were visited in your dreams by an unfamiliar voice asking for your aid! The request?
”LORDS… END….”
Every inch of your being hopes they aren’t talking about THE FOUR LORDS that rule ZORAL, but you have a habit of being wrong these days! Still, it’s either be a hero or cough up 20,000 BELLS for a lead on how to get home… and that doesn’t even begin to address the fact that you inadvertently entered a contract with a devil upon being summoned!
Oh, and did you mention your ex-girlfriend LIZ apparently found her way here? Yea, you’re not gonna be buying any lottery tickets any time soon, THAT’S for sure…
Trudging through slush and muck to an Inn that owes you a well-deserved reward, THIS is where your tale continues…
https://youtu.be/1lR8VLt1Xlk 
Autumn wind blows through ugly rags, a rough scraping sound can be heard behind a barefooted figure, it's nighttime. An old man carries a rusty sealed shut iron maiden, his heavy breathing betrays the weight of his load, metallic bottom plows deep into the dirt road that the old man is traversing.
Far behind him is a booger-faced child, just as filthy as the old man, with bare legs and feet covered in lesions, only the small torso is protected by a simple linen cloth. It's head misses hair and eyebrows and the child occasionally blinks rapidly his huge green eyes.
The old man approaches a tavern on the road and sees a single soul outside, a bard tuning his lute. He is tall and handsome, his clothing shines in the dark, his long fingers run easily across the wooden neck of the lute. The bard has been observing the two wretched nightly stragglers. Soon he decides to...
>play a single annoying note over and over again, *brimmm* *brimmm* *brimmm*
>bow down to the old man
>enter the tavern and finally perform the song that required the tuning 
You are Drusila the Archmage. You enjoy a good reputation in the kingdom, living in the spire palace surrounded by the garden of white acacias, a retreat for tired souls. In actuality, it is the center of your spy network. People from all walks of life come here to meet from all over the kingdom and beyond, and the entire place is warded against external scrying while at the same time monitored by your petal elementals, who dutifuly record everything in thin acacia paper in the archives underneath your palace. Every morning and every night they give you a report on what is going on in the kingdom. One night, you receive a report that a group called "The Red Hand" discovered a way to summon a demon lord. Intrigued, you decide to research further. An old acquaintance of yours, a mage by name or Zerlok, who adventured alongside you briefly in your early days, seems to be responsible for the attempt. You believe they are going to attempt the summoning in a few short months and have mobilized massive resources in order to do so!
Your first and most important decision is this: will you help Zerlok summon the demon lord or attempt to stop him?
> Help Zerlok summon the Demon Lord
> Attempt to stop Zerlok
> Stay out of this
> Write in 
Humans are gone, the rats remain.
You were once but a small mischief of rats living in the dark corners of humanity's mighty architecture, scrounging around for food and a place to sleep among trash. Then one day, the humans were gone, as if vanished from the earth. What remained was the rat, a grand spark of light gave them the gifts of sentience, intelligence and the ability to walk on two legs relatively well.
It was time for the rat revolution, time to take over the remnants of humanity and become the new rulers of the earth. One step at a time, of course, a mere man-house could be a mighty kingdom for the rat-kin.
Your mischief lived in...
>A rural house. Surrounded by wilderness, your ratkin will face gigantic animals in their attempts to survive, but there will be few other ratkin to challenge your dominion over your Kingdom.
>An apartment building. Many rats dwell among the grand apartment buildings of mankind, their newfound sentience will soon lead to confrontation over the resources that men left behind.
>A house with a backyard in a residential area. While these rats' position will initially be ideal, their grand homes will be greatly coveted by other ambitious mischiefs!
Welcome to The Rat Civ™! This civ isn't about crunching numbers, it's about vibes, rule of cool, and rats! The idea here is to make rat history together, and make it something to remember. 
You are Mila, the human rogue. Orphaned in the walled city of Terk, you soon learned your craft with the local gangs. After getting in trouble with the authorities one too many times, you decided to hit the road. You heard of a distant port city called Amabel where you could start anew. But the problem is getting there.
***
CHARGEN
Your main stat is DEX. It allows you great proficiency with finesse and ranged weapons, plus a good chance of evasion. You can also do sneak attacks.
You may choose a secondary high attribute, if you pick two dump stats.
Secondary attributes:
STR - your damage with melee weapons is increased. You can do a power attack, and this ability could be used alongside your sneak attack.
CON - you are hard to kill. You get a second wind if you are ever incapacitated. You also have advantage in intimidation checks.
INT - you are good with magic. You get a single cantrip you can use once a day, and you can read magic scrolls without an ability check.
WIS - you have advantage on perception checks and a strong affinity with nature. Choose a common animal as your companion. If it dies, you're sure you could tame another.
CHA - you have advantage on seduction and bargaining checks. On a critical hit when parlaying with a monster, it becomes your henchmen.
DUMP STATS
STR - you're weak. You better do those sneak attacks with a crossbow.
CON - your body can't stand much punishment.
INT - you can't read
WIS - you have poor sense of direction
CHA - you are annoying and people tend to dislike you 
A strangled gasp desperately claws at air, forcing oxygen into needy lungs that have not felt its embrace in long months. The ragged, animalistic inhale enunciates to the world that you still live. The cold air you greedily suck in burns your throat like swallowing shards of razor glass. Your world is pain, but pain is good, pain means there is still life in your body, and you have survived this forced resuscitation. As soon as you’ve flooded your body with much-needed oxygen, your chest spasms violently, wracking your frame as wet coughs replace the gasp.
Locked in a cycle that oscillates between deep, hungry inhales and violent coughing fits, your eyes open and see nothing. The darkness is complete and total. You spy no source of light in the void that wrestles against the inevitability of night. Your mind is dull and numb. It still lagging from your awakening, struggling to do anything more than its base functions. Cold enshrouds you, wrapping you within its horrid embrace. Goose pimples cover your naked flesh as the chilled air caresses you, sucking out all your natural warmth. Teeth chatter within your mouth, and you crawl up into an even tighter foetal position; your body is trying and failing to beat back the cold that has infected your soul.
As the icy numbness recedes, the pain returns, coating every inch of your body like a cruel reminder of your suffering. You spasm wildly as pain intermittently shoots through different parts of your body, mimicking lightning never hitting the same spot with the agony-inducing stab, at least never hitting the same place twice in a row. Each involuntary twitch is confined, restricted, and imprisoned; the movements are halted from completion by an unyielding force.
Still blind, you register the constraints that bind you, with the realisation you fight against them like a rabid Sullus-Tiger. Pushing upwards in an attempt to get to your feet, you shove your face into metal wire that does not give. Your hands blindly claw at the cage that keeps you pinned to the ground, fingers fruitlessly fight the durasteel. They fail to find a weakness or to scythe through the metal. Now you notice you are not even able to lie straight, your cage has you trapped in this foetal position with only a few inches of space on any side. Kicking at the prison, you are as successful as a child stomping in protest against their parent. The woven metal that holds you captive will not break under your hopeless, infantile assault. 
You are Marnie, of no last name, and you want nothing more than to escape your artificial life. For the last several weeks, you’ve been training alongside your Digimon Partner, Phascomon, and have recently bonded enough to unlock the secret of Digivolution.
With the combined strength of you and your allies, you seek to ascend The Tower and defeat its mighty guardian, so you can leave City 87-O and live your life as a human should; out there in the real world.
But first, you have to survive the many threats coming your way, whether they take the form of hostile Digital Lifeforms, or the iron claw of the City’s enforcement units.
Where last your story left off, you entered a network subsystem in search of your missing friend— enigmatic Code Cracker Doc Cracker. With the help of a City-employed pair of Digimon that you threatened into cooperation, you managed to locate him, as well as the old enemy of yours that abducted him.
Now, it's time to fight back.
==
Last Thread
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6216903/ 
-3E 140, 3 years after the War of the Red Diamond-
Your father forged the armor. Your mother wore it into battle. Your uncle lost it.
“You what?” Your voice dripped with venom as you glared at him. “How do you lose daedric armor?”
Your uncle frowned, resolute. “It was just gathering dust on that mannequin. I had people to pay.”
“Mother left it to me in her will.” You soften your look as best you can. “Who did you owe money to?”
His eyes glanced down before he told you. You took in a deep breath and sighed. It was better than lashing out. It wouldn’t do any good. “…And I knew that was the most valuable set in the collection. I didn’t want everything to go.” It was true. As you look around the basement, many were the display cases of artifacts, weapons, armors, clothing. Your mother and father both traveled all over Tamriel, first as soldiers for the Empire, then as sellswords and adventurers. They planted roots when they had you. Mother continued to adventure in the region, but your father tended to you and the house.
“There’s a lot of history here. Every corner of the Empire is represented,” you walk between the aisles as you speak. Old Imperial newt-scale armor across from Alik’r desert garb. Khajiti carved walking staffs resting in a Dwemer vase. Skaal hunting gear atop Argonian stone pedestals. Wanderers and collectors - you recall a few pieces you added to the collection.
But that daedric armor was special. It was the only thing here that your father smithed himself. Everything else was for the shop. But not that. Not for the armor his wife wore, and now his child. If it was here, of course.
But where exactly is here?
>A) Vote for the starting province.
>1. Black Marsh
>2. Cyrodiil
>3. Elsweyr
>4. Hammerfell
>5. High Rock
>6. Morrowind
>7. Skyrim
>8. Summerset Isles
>9. Valenwood
As you pass by a large High Elven mirror, you give yourself a quick lookover.
>B) What is your gender?
>Male
>Female
>C) What is your race? Vote for one.
>1. Argonian (+1 rank to Lockpicking)
>2. Breton (+1 Conjuration)
>3. Dark Elf (+1 Destruction)
>4. High Elf (+1 Illusion)
>5. Imperial (+1 Speech)
>6. Nord (+1 Blunt)
>7. Redguard (+1 Blades)
>8. Khajiit (+1 Sneak)
>9. Orc (+1 Heavy Armor)
>10. Wood Elf (+1 Archery)
>Ranks in the different Skills will be explained alongside tge rules in the next update. The ranks are Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, and Master.
(Okay, that was a lot. I'll be answering questions after I get off work. Thank you for your interest, and welcome to Inheritance Lost!) 
See Our OCs' OCs Edition
>What is this?
"The Mystery Dungeons 2e" is a text-based role-playing game created to expand on the setting created by the spinoff series, Pokémon Mystery Dungeon. This has no story relation to the first quest, and is its own new story. Players still isekai themselves into the world and become Pokémon, going on adventures with their newfound guild mates! SFW ONLY
A deeper explanation of rules, related pages, and whatnot can be found here:
https://rentry.org/tmd2many_rules
>I'd like to participate!
Currently, we're at full capacity as far as threads on /qst/ are concerned. However, there's always the chance that space for another player may grow in the future, or that you simply wish to play outside of /qst/ and the quests hosted here. There are other ways to participate, about which you can learn and do here: https://matrix.to/#/#the-mystery-dungeons-2nd-edition:matrix.org
>Okay, now what?
After you've read up and familiarized yourself with the rules and setting, be sure to hop into the Element: https://matrix.to/#/#the-mystery-dungeons-2nd-edition:matrix.org. Everything that doesn't involve Main Quests occurs here and is helpful for coordination.
Character sheets and the guide to making them can be found here: https://rentry.org/tmd2many_characters
If you feel you might need help, feel free to ask!
Previous threads and summaries can be found here:
https://rentry.org/tmd2many_days
Our LIVE main adventures start on Tuesdays/Saturdays around 6:30PM CST in this thread!
Namefag as your character, with your item and level!
e.g. Sparks, Lv. 56 Pikachu
e.g. Sparks L.56 (Sneak Scarf/Team Shock) 
Another winter ice has broken through the fjords of northern Falheim and those who still call themselves loyal - to you, your father’s name, and to the blood in your family’s veins - look to you for direction. Spring has always been a hopeful time for your people and as the snows halt and the waters’ icy surfaces begin to crack and melt into pristine flows, the clan is eager to rebuild.
This winter has been a particularly harsh one and to think on it is to mourn.
Gone with the long winter, how did your father, the previous elder of this small clan, pass away?
>> Valour - he was slain while raiding the lands of Earl Ufisson, a sworn enemy to your family-line
>> Ailments - his time had come, even if it felt too soon, and it was old age and sickness that finally took him from you
>> Betrayal - he was slain by his kin when your uncle, Aleifr, led a mutiny against the old man and seized control of his clan
>> Retirement - knowing full well the end awaited, your old man took to the mountains for pilgrimage, a sombre knowingness about him when he left, and was never seen again Pick race and location.
My schedule is a bit random so I may not update every single day. 
Domestic Security Coordination Council Quest... Cancelled
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>Username: ***************
>Password: **************
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Welcome Operator, to Task Force Vanguard
While the world and our beloved nation is in crisis, we are the ones who handle the greatest threat to our fellow citizens and perhaps the world.
The Containment Box is fully online in a secure facility with two companies of Marines, a platoon of SF qualified personnel, and a nearby National Guard base on standby. Nothing gets into the underground facility and nothing gets out. The landing spots around the C Box are filled with trained killers, ready to pacify or slaughter anything that lands from other timelines or dimensions.
As long as the Box is running, humming along, our goverment is sale from an assassination team popping into existence in the Capitol. As long we do our jobs, spies and saboteurs can't sneak into our world.
Now then? You are using a placeholder sign-in code that is being shared with multiple people. There isn't any proper documentation yet about if you're going to be a small team or some squad leaders or what. Did you even figure out your call signs yet?
>Time to pick
1. Make your decisions as a collective. You might be a small team that coordinates missions together.
2. Make your choices alone. This step is harder and more difficult. Instead of the risk of not agreeing to things, you run the risk of losing interest in doing things by yourself, even if you network with others.
>Optional Choice
1. Handholding. This limits you to less options and makes it slower for you to progress as a physical/mental entity. It also means that you get promoted slower.
2. No handholding. You have to enter in a general sense of what branch you come from, and in the future you have to think about your choices. 
The bell rings loud and true throughout the village, signaling to all who populate this humble land that it's safe to come out now. Life wasn't always like this, in fact things used to be quite peaceful, sure the occasional war might've broke out from a particularly power hungry king. The times were never this dire though. The first occurrence of the end times took place in the exotic lands of the east, it was in a land known as Japan when the first horde showed itself and devastated an entire culture of people. Through the co-operation and unity of many renowned and accomplished wizards, the eastern lands had been closed off from the rest of the world, sealed away by an impenetrable magic barrier.
The ringing throughout the village continues, it takes it's toll on your eardrums as you shake your head and try to rule out all the noise around you.
"It's them! The bloody militia got more o' them bastards!" A distant bystander screams.
Though you can't see the nearby area around you, you can make out the noises of a large crowd gathering around the buggy you and a few others are forcefully being held inside. The bag over your head is tightly wound from your neck, nearly suffocating you to the point that even to look in a different direction causes you discomfort.
"Freaks, impure! Why'd ya bring em here then eh?!" A woman from the gathering crowd furiously yells.
You feel the horses dragging this buggy along stop abruptly. It's only moments after where you feel a burly person grab you and haul you back onto your feet.
"Come on now, get a move on then! Ain't got all day out here." A deep voice booms from just outside your door.
You can't tell exactly, but you think you can make out the gasps, and muffled words of three others in the same situation as you inside this buggy. Wrongfully accused of aiding the impure hordes, you've been brutally beaten and arrested by this lands local militia. In earnest truth who you really are is.. 
Sidewaysyllphonea~ [email protected]
]}(Grand Lord Czar Valkary Glorfindel Mazika Zeal Alexander Kyûiñ AL Fittir Sylvanosa Escåflõwne LaQuilavouxx Archambeault){[
([Z Shin Zeal-L Shen-Ying-Jhe Buun Song-Ké Shintari-Lao Kung Tzu-Tsing Tseng Tsuun-Joseph-Azrael-Elwing-God-Kai-Sol-Zïl])
[MaGiCkZaL StaRKniGHt] [RoyAL DraGoN TARoT] [TraNsVeSTiGaL Pixi FoX NyMPh] [TROLL HunTER] [Gypsy LEadER] ([SKiLL])
[TACTICIAN] [STRATEGIST] [GENERAL] [MEDIATOR] [ADVISOR] [STARGAZER] [CHANCELOR] [WAR COUNSELOR][§] ([SKålD])
)[SUPER ELITE BATTLE WAR KNIGHT TACTICIAN COMMANDER ULTIMAXEXTREME]-[VoRPaL]-[MaSTeRMiND]-[MeRCeNaRy](
[T - 99]-[Solid Magical Ground]-[Realistic High Fantasy]-[One Wish]:]No Books][No Autos][No Stakes]-[ResurrectioN] ([SkülD])
[BALANCE:9999] [S:501] [POWER:9867541329618] [STR:999][AGI:899][INT:98000][SMA:20000] [FORTITUDE:28563] ([Rangr])
[FORCE:9765432171][MIGHT:9999999] [DEFENSE:3999][ATTACK:9991][DODGE:911] [AP:998] [BLINK][BLINK][BLINK] ((KniFE])
[RULERSHIP][LEADERSHIP][COMMAND][JUDGEMENT][SURVIVAL][WARRIOR OV LiiGHT][BALANCE][NATURE][§§] ([LLyFF])
[RETRIBUTION][RESTORATION][REVELATION][JUDGEMENT][PRESERVATION][CREATION][MaGiC][MaGi][MaSTER] [§]TAT[§]
[RESSURECTiON][CALLIGRAPHY][SCHOLAR][ALCHEMY][ENCHANTMENT][SORCERY][ILLUSION][CHARM][ART] [§]KoN[§]
[NOBLE BENEVOLENT VIRTUE : KIND GENEROUS UNDERSTANDING WISDOM : HOLY RIGHTEOUS JUDGEMENT][§§] ([Gypsy])
[IMMUNE TO]:[PAIN]:[DEATH]:FEAR]:[WEAKNESS]:[MIND] [INVULNERABLE TO]:[DESTRUCTION] [RESIST:1000000] ([SYlYS])
[ADMINISTRATOR: GUIDE: OWNER: HEROES OF MIGHT AND MAGiC]:[Telicell, Lorien, Seychelles, Gaia, Ksjiialand] ([TaRoT])
([Janus Perun Ruain Arcus Garth Ahika Orlen Nikon Rowan Venus]) [FEL=DEAD=O]-[GÖD=LiFE]-[WAR MAN ELF TAR] ([TraCK]) 
You are the USS Enterprise, CVN-65, the First, the Finest, the world’s first nuclear supercarrier, and you are stuck in the middle of a hostile sea.
When last we left off, you, Long Beach, Bainbridge, and Nagato were steaming for Hawaii out of Bikini Atoll, Prinz Eugen was effecting emergency repairs after taking a glancing torpedo hit that put her down a screw, and your ASW squadrons hunted the Abyssal sea monster/sub. Though your VFA squadrons annihilated one Abyssal fleet and fended off an attack from the second, that second fleet managed to escape.
In Pearl Harbour, Raleigh has been giving you the rundown on the broader war. Energy and goods are flowing along the main trade routes, but Abyssal attacks are still common on the high seas, and in recent months they have made the leap to sophisticated guided weapons and in increasing numbers. A steady trickle of shipgirls flowing in over the past eighteen months has helped to turn back the tide, but until now, all of them were launched before mid-1945.
From here remain nearly 2200 nautical miles to Hawaii, around five days on the mighty Pacific where anything could lurk.
(Note that this world is an alt-history where the Cold War persisted until 1995, and many world events after around 1985 are different or never happened.)
Previous thread (not recommended - the editing on my end was atrocious, including entire story-critical paragraphs missing in places, and half the time I accidentally used the past tense instead of the present): https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6100557/
Story-only archive (properly-edited): https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/uss-enterprise-quest-a-kantai-collection-quest-with-shipgirls-both-old-and-modern-archive.1196330/
Current Air Wing:
23 F-14E Tomcats
12 F/A-18E Super Hornets
12 F/A-18F Super Hornets (2-seat var.)
5 E/A-18G Growlers (electronic warfare)
8 S-3B Vikings (long-range patrol, ASW, light attack) (2 away in Hawaii)
4 E2-C Hawkeye (airborne early warning and control - AWACS)
8 MH-60S Sierras (general purpose, SAR, light attack)
12 MH-60R Romeos (ASW, light attack)
Fixed-wing flight ops are normally flown in pulses or 'events' of 12-20 sorties, spaced 60-90 minutes apart, with around 10 events per day. Each event's planes are staged while the previous one's are in the air and the deck has more room for reconfiguring. Launching at will can result in long delays for the cats or lost airframes and pilots if the wires aren't cleared in time. Helicopters must work around the launching and landing schedule for safety reasons but can operate at all hours of the day or night. A typical carrier BARCAP, Barrier Combat Air Patrol, consists of roughly 12 fighters flying in pairs, orbiting arbitrary positions 200-odd miles from the fleet.
Long Beach and Bainbridge each carry a pair of MH-60R Romeos, while Prinz Eugen and Nagato both carry floatplanes for scouting. 
Scribbling noises furiously sound off across the worn pages of his journal, the scratch of pen against paper echoing in the dimly lit room. His gaze rarely left the crumpled photographs of Wilson Fisk, aka The Kingpin, plastered haphazardly across the walls. Each image seemed to exude an aura of menace and corruption.
"The Kingpin," Frank wrote, "A cancer on this city. Feeds off its desperation, breeds more suffering. I've been chipping away at his empire, one pawn at a time. His thugs, his enforcers - they're all just steps in the way of who I really want."
He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "His organization is vast, deeply entrenched. But I've managed to infiltrate it, using some reluctantly donated tech, courtesy of a Stark Industries supply truck. I know Kingpin's routines, his hiding places, his most trusted lieutenants. It's only a matter of time now until the New York streets are a little less dirty."
Frank's jaw clenched as he recalled the countless lives ruined by The Kingpin's greed and brutality. He had seen the worst of humanity during his time in Vietnam, but Fisk's reign of terror was a whole new level of depravity.
"I'll make him pay for every innocent life he's claimed," Frank vowed, his pen stabbing into the paper with renewed ferocity. "I'll tear it all down, piece by bloody piece, until there's nothing left but a corpse and a legend of the man who brought him down."
As the last rays of sunlight faded, casting the room in an even darker hue, Frank closed his journal and rose to his feet. He knew the road ahead would be long and treacherous, but he was ready. For he was the Punisher, and punishment would be served.
>Plan an attack on a lieutenant
>Send a message and prepare to blow up one of Kingpin's hideaways
>Review the people to keep an eye out for with each mission >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... 
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. 
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. Your name is Adam. You are twenty six years old.
You work at the grocery three streets down, you’ve been home for three and a half hours.
It’s 9pm and Kaitlyn is still on her closing shift at the pet store-the one on the corner down the road, you’ve been together for three years.
You sit in your chair, singed glass pieces and a displaced grinder on the low set coffee table in front of you.
the flashing waves of colors from the television glaze over your eyes and you sit locked-motionless.
Your laundry room’s walls indent into the neighbors’ apartment.
In this moment you feel as if you’re behind your own vision, watching footage of your life play out from behind plate glass. You are unsure of agency.
The lights are off, your limbs feel numb and your circulation is slowed.
you will wait until she comes home. Thirty minutes or so.
> he will sit and wait until Kaitlyn comes home
> I will go to the laundry room 
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 
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". 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 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. 
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.
--- 
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. ![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.’ 
