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). >It is the year 70 of the Cosmic Era calendar.
[ https://files.catbox.moe/urujvg.mp3 ]
[I]After Fifty five years of the Confession of George Glenn's ancestry as the first coordinator in Human History.[/i]
Seventeen years after his assassination by suspected Religious and Genetical-purist extremists spurned by the deadly S-Influenza's virus death-toll being few amongst the coordinator race.
Twenty-Six years after the foundation of the PLANT colonies, wherein most Coordinators reside after unforetold violence and hatred befell on them and their genetically-altered birth.
And... "And when he woke up...
the dinosaur was still there."
August lifted his copious eye-brows, and the imps of evil stared, expecting another word, both being completely paused in time with a yearning silence. The mask of seriousness fell off his lips the moment he doubted of how much said conclusion weighted.
"And that, ladies, was the shortest tale in the world; The dinosaur."
The thick fingers shook off the hoarded ashes from the cigarette. Perhaps now with that off the way, the bitches of the night will eat him apart; the question would be, is that a punishment, or the reward?
[B] Roll 1/20 to see how well landed the wee lil' tale [/B] 
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.’ 
The year is 1990. In 1989, the Soviet Union launched a lightning war on NATO. In just a few months, they managed to seize Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Iceland, as well as all of the Rhine–Meuse–Scheldt Delta and a part of Bavaria. Desperate, NATO signed a white peace, allowing the USSR to hold onto their freshly gained territories. It wouldn’t last long, however.
After being unable to prove themselves sufficiently to their allies, America loses the confidence of their overseas allies, and drifts into isolation, leaving NATO. In the wake of Russian overextension, the world market collapses, and the Soviet Union fragments, as does the rest of Eastern Europe.
The Berlin Wall falls, but each side meets the other with arms, wanting to shape the country in their image. Due to the lack of western unified strength, no one country stands ready to restore order, and all of Europe lights ablaze. NATO can only interdict, their own squadrons being insufficiently sized to project power over every theater. Russia is stuck reorganizing itself, entire divisions and air wings go rogue, for one reason or another. Border conflicts are small, but the age of the jet continues to change everything.
Most smaller air forces are insufficient, allowing mercenary groups to pop up in every conflict, acquiring planes from derelict stockpiles the world over. You were in flight lessons at the time, with dreams of flying commercial. With the market crash, however, your eyes drift to the news coming out of the skies of Europe.
You could’ve chosen any other life, been a good husband to any, worked any other honest job. But you differ from your peers, a young man, in search of glory and wealth. You take newspaper clippings and any information you can get on how to get into the fight. It’s taken some time to finally get your instrument rating and hours, the basic requirement for any mercenary air wing in need of warm bodies to put in cockpits, but you’re finally ready. With your loans weighing the back of your mind, you prepare an application packet, and hope they’ll take you.
Name
>[Write-In]
Nationality
>[American]
>[English]
>[West German]
>[Russian]
Conflict
>[Central Europe]
>[Balkan]
>[Nordic]
>[Baltic]
Alignment
>[NATO-backed]
>[WARPAC Remnants]
>[Rogue Nation] 
1st & 2nd thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Halo:%20Spartan%202%20War%20Reports
_
Sven-033's Qualities: [Special] Giant, Maverick, Officer, Wunderkind, Inspiring
Sven-033's Advancement Paths: Brawler 3/10, Bulwark 2/10, Grenadier 2/10| Diplomat 1/6, Infiltrator 1/6| Jötunn 1/4
Sub Objective Progress: Artificial Artisan 1/?
_
Current Mission: MISSION 2: Operation: FLY-SWATTER
Primary Objective: Neutralize hostile Covenant Vessel, ???, ??? Class, ??? Pattern, ??? designation
Secret objective 1: [File Encrypted]
Secret objective 2: [File Encrypted]
Secret objective 3: [File Encrypted]
_
Mood Music: https://youtu.be/kjmu5bj5yBA
_
Things were about to get really dicey. You had to act with utmost caution. What you were about to do was extremely risky, failure meant death but success...success meant so much more. Capturing a covenant ship intact, this early in the war, would be an immense victory for humanity's war effort and understanding of her genocidal foes. You laid out the framework of a plan, to ensure the safety of your squad as you attempted to reason with the kind of AI employed by a society of genocidal zealots
"Proceed with setting the Charges, rendezvous with the rest of the squad at the provided NAV-Marker. Shouldn't be any resistance left in your way" You say, putting on the airs of a confident and assured officer commanding something so easy it might as well be shore leave "We've secured a way out of here, hurry to evac location and salvage whatever enemy equipment you can carry, and prepare for extraction"
You snap your fingers and motion towards Vinh and Shika, feeling better and more positive about your incredibly risky plan by the second.
"Shika, Vinh, sweep the bridge, take those rifles and anything that looks valuable or important, along with our prisoner. Grab any weapon you can from our previous engagements, and make sure Wick's gets home. Hold the escape pod and keep it warm for John and Co's arrival" You order as you approach the largest and most important looking console screen on the covenant vessel's bridge "I'm going to do something that's either going to win me a promotion or earn me the Butt Chewing of a lifetime"
"What are you doing?" Vinh asked, as nervous as a Spartan could be, watching the three minute timer tick down in the corner of her HUD
"Sven stuff" Shika answered with a shrug "Just go along with it"
"Seeing if the AI on board is more polite than its crew" You answer, and crease your brow as you realize immediately you have no way of contacting it through the bridge's terminal. You and no other human has any idea how to make a Covenant Computer interface work.
But there is a universal language, that you're confident the artificial intelligence or intelligences would understand and notice. Binary. The Covenant's computing systems might not be constructed from ones and zeroes, but any software should understand a message delivered in that format.
Cont 
The city of Bordèu stirs, all its citizens are out in force, they march towards the cathedral of St Andrew, heeding the summons of a king.
A fortnight ago the King of Valland called a parliament in Bordèu. He stirs trouble, Bordèu and surrounding lands—indeed, the whole province of Guyenne—belongs in fief to his distant cousin, the King of Angla.
Oh but we are getting ahead of ourselves. You are not here for the politicking of the high nobility, you are here for your own reasons. Remind me where you come from. Remind me of your oath.
>Angla
>Almain
>Montera
—
>As a young squire, you and your master were prisoners awaiting ransom. Your cruel captor left your master's wounds untreated, causing his death. Being of little value, your captor mockingly knighted you in his dungeon, he mistreated you and always made you thank him for his "generosity”. As his final act, he threw you out with only your clothes and a chipped sword. His men laughed from the walls: "Go on then, Ser Knight." They likely think you dead by now, but you remember your oath.
>Born an orphan, your miserable life changed when you met Fostin the Grey, a traveling Dwergz. Eccentric compared to all his kind, he and his company took you in. They taught you everything, made you someone, all without asking anything in return. Fostin was old by the reckoning of his people and time catches up with everyone, even those of the elder races. On his deathbed, you swore to return his clan's hammer to his children in the Pyren Mountains. You remember your oath.
>You were always equal parts poet and knight. A Troubadour as one would say in Guyenne. And in your homeland there was a particular lady who you were high in standing with, an heiress with too much wealth and too much love of song and romance. You got carried away, promises were uttered and deeds were done. A landless knight is no proper match for a heiress, she was imprisoned in a convent by her family. You on the other hand were hunted. But you shall return, you remember your oath. 
With the majority of the Seventh Universe united under the banner of the PTO, Emperor Cooler at its head, the universe has known a time of unrivaled peace. But in the shadows threats have been growing, nursing grudges against the PTO and the Saiyan race in particular. And now those threats are rising, stepping out of the shadows to openly challenge the established order. Seeking nothing short of the destruction of New Salda and the extinction of the entire Saiyan race, can you prevent this outcome? Or will the Saiyan race be reduced to nothing more than memories, their heroes nothing more than ink in the pages of the history books?
You the players will (most often) control Karn; wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul and hope of the entire PTO, not only the Saiyan race. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has grown in power and skill, overcoming the world-ending threats that have come for the Saiyans to become the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759. From the massive Covenant empire to demonic incursions, mad cultists to vengeful gods, none have been strong or clever enough to put down Karn for good. But will one man's power be enough to protect everyone from the rising threats? Or will death come from those who you least expect it from? Your choices may mean the difference between survival and extinction, so choose carefully.
Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM
Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice
>One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun
SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tndKYpPz2RU
REVENGE OF THE BODY SNATCHERS 
You are Cindy Moon; Warrior Priest of Khonshu, Ward of Ben Parker, Part-time local vigilante. And, just recently, you somehow obtained the title of "Slayer" from an ancient Vampire Lord with an evil agenda. Between going to school, fighting bad guys, wrangling an overeager sidekick and dealing with an insane amount of family drama, now you're expected to potentially help save the world! No pressure.
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Max%20Spider%20Quest
Last time: After accepting the help of Wilhelmina the Blood Witch, Cindy defeated her brother Ward, and not only managed to convince him to stand down, but got the rest of Monster Council to stop fighting each other, and instead direct their anger at the creature responsible for deceiving them all: Varnae, The First Vampire!
Thanks to her quick thinking, she and the council made it out of Varnae's trap in one piece, and reconvened at a tavern in Monster Metropolis. There, she learned that her new blue friend was actually a clone mashup of Beast and Wolverine, and that the mutant scientist (Hank McCoy) had offered his help to Varnae, Skul the Slayer, and the current ruler of Limbo, Belasco.
Now that they know who their enemies truly are, Cindy and her group devise a plan to appeal to the Kaiju King, in hopes that he can muster up an army for the battle to come.
Will the Kaiju King's help be enough to save the day? Is Cindy capable of slaying something as old and powerful as Varnae, or even Belasco? And why is a member of the X-Men lending aid to a bunch of monsters?
Find out more in the latest issue of…MAXIMUM SPIDER QUEST!
Rules:
Most dice rolls will be 1d100. Modifiers will be added depending on the situation or on the alien being used(Usually +10 or -10). Crit successes and crit fails apply. Crit fails can be overridden by crit successes, but crit failures cannot override crit successes.
How to Roll:
To roll dice, type “dice+1d100” in the options field without the quotations. To roll dice with positive modifiers, type “dice+1d100+modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number. To roll dice with negative modifiers, type “dice+1d100+-modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number.
Pastebins:
Character Sheet:
https://pastebin.com/1ZihFYSV
Equipment and Gear:
https://pastebin.com/WAhveFAd
Contacts:
https://pastebin.com/WdcFXD2s
10 Commandments of the Desperados:
https://pastebin.com/Qpr2jVPE
Costumes:
https://pastebin.com/5Jie54X2
The Huntsman’s Travel Guide:
https://pastebin.com/PU6LWsip
Upcoming Events in the Maximum Universe:
https://pastebin.com/DceSEjiR
Good luck and have fun! 
In the history of humankind, war has been a constant. Over resources, land or ideology, warfare has been the front at which humanity found itself time and time again. When dozens of atomic bombs peppered the United States of America in atomic hellfire more than 200 years ago, the world as it once was ended. Society and order ceased to exist, and anarchy reigned supreme. Some sheltered in Vaults, spared the worst of the suffering deep underground… or exposed to an entirely unprecedented form of it. In the ashes of the old world, a new one was born. The fledglings of humanity survived and forged a new world with brutal, unforgiving rules.
Raiding. Murder. Theft. Destruction. But also, hope. Hope that things could return to how they once were, or move in a new direction entirely, casting off the shackles of folly that led America to ruin. But with hope came fear and conflict, discontent and brutality. Every step taken was taken with bloody footprints. Because war… war never changes.
==============================
It’s no secret to anybody that the landscape of America changed dramatically after the Great War. New creatures emerged from the irradiated wastes, the land shifted and became filled with new plant life twisted and bent into strange shapes. Even the ground itself was altered in many places. In one such case, the Outer Banks of North Carolina became the shattered, flooded Broken Banks. Flotsam and wreckage littered amidst drenched islands and raft-masses, while the mainland’s coast was filled with all manner of blasted boardwalks, trading posts and shantytowns.
The further south a soul travels, the more flooded the land becomes. South Carolina is a mired, messy swamp patrolled only by the grandest of mirelurks and the most savage of tribes, while the untamed wilds of Florida boast drenchghoul cults and radgators of truly epic proportions. All in all, a severely inhospitable section of the wasteland. 
"You're not the first to come here. You won't be the last to disappear without a name or bones."
There is a hole in the world made of dust and blood. You came to the entrance. By choice? By desperation? It doesn't matter. Everything you were is behind you. Here, what matters is what you can bear to lose.
Choose the one who will carry the burden of descending.
>Lars, the Bear
"The skin is human. The roar is not."
No one knows where he came from — only that he descended from the mountains covered in scars and silence. He walks naked, immune to the cold. He fights with his bare fists and sleeps curled up. They say he is possessed. They say he is an animal dreaming it’s a man. Lars corrects no one.
>Skill: Grappling — Lars relies solely on brute strength and his own fists, scornful of weapons and armor. This unlocks grappling maneuvers, such as clinching, throws, and takedowns.
>Nature:
>Brave: Lars is tolerant of pain and difficult to frighten or intimidate; however, he believes himself to be immortal.
or
>Integrity: Lars is tolerant of pain and difficult to frighten or intimidate; however, he pursues the right thing and does his best to get others to do so as well.
>Motivation: During the night, demons climb the mountain to tear people apart. Now, as the nights grow longer, Lars hunts for the solution within Belarmino’s brutal lair... or perhaps he intends to devour him.
>Hal, the Hare
"She saw. No one else saw. She fled. No one else fled."
One day, someone loved her. A mage. A monster. He used her as a test subject for a spell that required forcefully opening the mind. After barely escaping the ordeal, Hal exiled herself indefinitely, fleeing from the aftermath of the spell.
>Skill: Cowardice — Hal can attempt to flee without using an action once per encounter, with an increased chance to escape traps and deadly encounters. Allies, however, will be left behind.
>Nature: Null Presence — She reduces the chance of random encounters when alone. Incapable of creating bonds, though.
>Motivation: To escape from her pursuer and seek liberation and spiritual asylum from a holy man.
>Anika, the Rosebed
"She was laughing when she was born — a satanic omen."
Born of a dead mother and a ray of light, Anika carries the gift of healing the living with light. The dungeon will try to corrupt her. Good luck with that.
>Skill: Miracle — Heals allies. However, doing so lights her up like a Christmas tree to supernatural entities. Some can be dangerous.
>Nature: Purity — She won’t cause harm to living beings and is resilient against corruption and possession.
>Motivation: Belarmino seeks her as an offering. She descends into the dungeon not to fight… but to try to save him from what he has become. 
As my pickaxe strikes the rockface, I can still feel my worn-out elbow bones grinding against each other - like sandpaper against sandpaper, even after upping my dose of Forza. The drug pumped through the filthy tubes jammed up what was left of my nose, thick as engine grease and burning twice as bad. The pain dulled, but never enough. Never enough to forget where I was. Upping my dose might do it, or changing its old tubes, if I could afford it. Just needed to break a bit more rock. Fill a few more carts.
It's darker than a heretic's soul down here, but that's how we like it. Less light means more promethium to pocket. Old tradition since Cheekbones' time. The Deacon hardly ever comes down this deep, and the Servitor assigned to our level is more machine than man now - lost his mind years back along with control of his nethers, like most. Even through my scarred-up nostrils and the tubes, I can still smell the shit and piss caked into his body hair from twenty paces.
"Hey, new blood," I whisper to the fresh meat they've dropped in our section. Poor bastard's shaking so bad he can barely hold his pick. "See how we're working with just half-lamps? That ain't official. We skim the fuel and split it end of shift. Keep your mouth shut about it and you'll get your cut, 'kay?"
A miner tradition since Cheekbones' times.
The new one nods, eyes wide. Most don't last more than a year or two down here. I've survived twenty-one. 
Your orphan ass is sitting in your living room, chowing on pizza and watching Netflix when suddenly your uncle, who is your adoptive guardian, bursts through the door, smearing bloody handprints across anything he touches "Holy shit" you say, watching as he takes step by agonizing step towards you, a sense of urgency in his piercing blue eyes, "you're getting blood everywhere. Auntie's going to be pissed."
"There's no time to clean up... I'm dying" he growls, going into a fit and coughing up blood all over his silver beard and gnarled hands. You notice that under his long grey trench coat there is a great gash in his clothes, with a mortal wound underneath which bleeds profusely.
"Oh... did you want me to get you a doctor... or a priest?" you offer politely.
"Listen to me... the world is being threatened by an evil force. In the past 1200 years, 12 incarnations of evil have attacked mankind. It has been 100 years since the last incarnation appeared. Do the math."
You quickly add up the numbers. "1312" you say.
"That's right, it's been 1300 years and 12 incarnations... the Thirteenth Apocalypse, the final, and most powerful of them all, is prophesied to appear. He has likely already entered our world, and is biding his time to make his presence known. Our family is from a long line of Watchers, your mother and father died to save your life. You are the last hope to save mankind."
"That sounds like the plot to an anime" you say, scratching your chin.
Your uncle glares at you for a moment, then continues. "The Thirteenth Apocalypse has one weakness, he can only be defeated by the family sword, which has been passed down from generation to generation" he says, then produces a katana from the folds of his trenchcoat, it is ornately decorated, with a rippling blade that resembles the flowing of water, refracting light into a rainbow cascade, and with a black hilt embossed with gold in the form of a dragon.
"Sweet sword... I didn't know we were Japanese"
Your uncle's stern eyes bore into you once more, silently judging you for a long while. 
Last thread, the Idol agency has been finally organized to run efficiently after a great meeting, you’re in the aftermath, preparing for the heist against the mafia. These are 2 unrelated events, but you combine them with your decisions. This is a stark reminder that you’re a man of many skills, not a person who can’t focus on the task at hand.
But you’re at an impasse. Your Bestie decided to pretend your plan isn’t your plan in the least subtle way imaginable, and was called out for it by Chio. When everyone else in the room realized that the ruse wasn’t a ruse, Amelia barged in to beg for the cookies your dear Clutz baked for you. Your sister was promptly kicked out. But the question still hangs up in the air…
“...Okay, everyone, I don’t want anyone to mention what happened to Ame. Understood? She’s going to try to stop me even if it’s true or not.” You ask Chio, Wilma, and Vortexia to be chill.
“Would she be successful at it?” Chio wonders if she can go for the neutral option.
“Don’t even think about it.” Wilma takes this very seriously.
“No one likes snitches.” Vortexia agrees.
“Not one bit.” You add.
“I-It wasn’t part of my plans, I wondered out of intellectual curiosity.” Chio changes her mind the minute you are against it.
“You’re not subtle at all…” Crossbill looks down on Mamariko.
“...Who are you to talk?” Wilma raises an eyebrow.
“C’mon, I said I was pulling your legs. You girls know my past and all. Joke didn’t land, it happens.” Crossbill won’t admit anything.
“I don’t believe you were kidding.” Vortexia can see through the politician’s bullshit.
“Sheesh, you’re turning me into a casual fan…” Crossbill doesn’t believe in the storm.
“I’ll take your heart back when you hear me singing!” Vortexia gets a little haughty. Chio appreciates the form, but she can see areas of improvement.
“We’ll see.” Crossbill goes back to bed to pretend to be ill… again.
This situation isn’t tense, but there are many unanswered questions. Do you like it when questions are unanswered? In their shoes, you wouldn’t. But how far will honesty lead you here? You gotta know what to do now.
What do you do?
>“Get your fat butt over here, Crossbill. Why are you back in bed? We have things to do.” Leave things unanswered and get out.
>“Yeah, the heist is real. We wanna prank the local mafia out. It’s important.” You’re going to clean up the streets by pissing off the criminals. What could go wrong?
>“Actually, I feel sick too…” Get in bed as well. You feel a fever… A *lazy* fever.
>Write In. 
The world ended less than a decade ago and you are in Nebraska. It ended during the new years and all technology is from before the end or is basically the level of the Amish.
The major cities are occupied by aliens. The rest of the country is crazy splatterpunks, paranoid survivalists, regular people, bughunting irregulars, and NORAD.
Nebraska is part of flatland, a geographical region. The local resources are corn, corn, corn, and corn. Also wheat, potaotes, and whatever is grown during crop rotations. So beans and peas, but maybe using less water.
New houses are made of Sod.
"Money" is generally precious metals, ammo, rations and preserved food, soap, fuel, and materials.
-
You are an amorphous blob of random people in the southwest corner of the state.
Your objectives are either to kill as many splatterpunks or bugs as possible, to approach a high standard of living, to form thriving community, or replace the last semi-banditry militia that just got wiped out.
Or perhaps restore the Union. Or some mixture. 
Jail Quest: a text adventure occasionally illustrated.
A night of drinking and a failed attempt to cheat on cards had landed you the strangest job slash community service sentence you've ever had: ensuring Gongalla Gaol survives the reality storm called Singularity.
Now you travel around with your employer and a handpicked crew to survey the four Reality Anchors. Hey, beats being tarred and feathered, right?
Previous thread:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6183794/
Gongallaverse:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Gongalla%20Gaol
You are Rosa Montagni, once again on the road towards the north of North. After that successful raid on the Singularity cultist cave, you've returned back to Pinewatch to tie up loose ends - one of which involves a bit of child actor kidnapping. Hey, he's affiliated with the cultists anyways, luring kids into the hands of the cultists. The other loose end is the 'sleeper' cultists still in town - but you captured them with the assistance of the burlesque theatre girls, whom you worked together to set a trap in a play they've always wanted. Cultists apprehended and delivered to the guildhall, Jed Stuart gives you the reward you seek - directions towards the North's reality anchor. Jed's info is way more detailed than Hammy's vague directions - and so you once again charter Lightning Ling's autowagon services. Which brings you to your current situation... 
The stillness of the void is disrupted by the appearance of a dilapidated cargo vessel, its prow streaming with plumes of fairie-fire from its jump.
Behind it the miraculous tear in space and time that humanity barely understands has already collapsed. Blessedly unwitnessed by human eyes.
Before the hull has even had a chance to cool it crashes into the veil of micro-debris kicked up by the nearby asteroid field, wherein lies its destination.
As thrusters burn to induce the vessel’s drift towards the mining outpost it was so suddenly instructed to divert towards, the scant handful of crew within begin to stir in their cryopods.
None of them know yet that this shuffle of their cargo run is likely to change their lives.
But that is for later, for now there are questions to be answered…
===
Greetings and welcome to The Haunting of Ypsilon-14, a One-Shot in the Mothership TTRPG system. This is a very deadly Sci-Fi Horror game, so brace yourselves!
Mothership is a roll-under d100 system. We’ll be doing Bo2 here, to soften the edge just a bit. Generally if you’re rolling dice it’s because you’ve fucked up or haven't planned well enough anyway. Doubles are crits, if they’re above the Stat/Save you’re rolling against then that’s a crit fail. If they’re below, that’s a crit success. Where skills apply, they raise your effective score by +10 for Trained, +15 for Expert, and +20 for Master (you can stack them if you’re clever).
There’s more, but we’ll cover it as we go.
=== 
“Kill the fifth columnist”. Those words are burned into your brain. Everyone were hoping he would make a change, finally stopping the war between the expedition crews and the different armed militias. Everyone grew tired of it, but no one wanted to stop first, as you both wanted to reach Nizhniy, the biggest city in the region, before the opposing team could. You were with one of such militias, calling themselves “The Renegades”, who made a mad dash towards the Volga in hopes of reaching the city, but were stopped in a small town by one of the expedition crews. Many men, women and children died in countless battles and raids, your group lost some of the most experienced fighters. But then…everything went silent. A member of the expedition crew proposed with a truce in order for everyone to reach Nizhniy safely. But “Post Office skirmish” happened, taking the life of Katerina. No one dared to speak about a truce after that. You pushed the expedition crew to the outskirts of town, hoping for a quick victory. But they fought back. They raided your homebase at the railroad station, killing your leader, forcing you to retreat. In the midst of battle you saw HIM with your own eyes, shooting down your people with his shotgun. He did not hesitate to kill, stomping the wounded with his boot, if they still tried to resist, while on the ground. You saw his eyes, and they were full of nothing, but primal rage.
When you were exhausted, laying on the floor, covered in blood of people who fought together with you, he came up to you, and you were ready to meet your fate. But he spared you, moved you into the corner of the room, away from the corpses, and went away. A lot of time passed since then. It is time to prove the “columnist” one thing.
He should have pulled the trigger 
Rules are simple: Votes are tallied every hour, with whatever course of action being the most popular being the course of action taken. Write ins are encouraged and non-mutually exclusive votes will be combined if possible.
When a roll is called for, roll however many D100 are specified. 5- is a 'crit fail' and generally means something bad is about to happen. 95+ is a 'crit success' and generally means something good just happened. a 'crit success' trumps a crit fail. User input on both will be taken into consideration.
Inventory, pokemon stats and other links: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15i2N08IpWqitoTJujsUMishe4PLbao1lqT-bCAmvPcE/edit
Discord: Rules are simple: Votes are tallied every hour, with whatever course of action being the most popular being the course of action taken. Write ins are encouraged and non-mutually exclusive votes will be combined if possible.
When a roll is called for, roll however many D100 are specified. 5- is a 'crit fail' and generally means something bad is about to happen. 95+ is a 'crit success' and generally means something good just happened. a 'crit success' trumps a crit fail. User input on both will be taken into consideration.
Inventory, pokemon stats and other links: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15i2N08IpWqitoTJujsUMishe4PLbao1lqT-bCAmvPcE/edit
Discord: https://discord.gg/v8nRWG4p
For a short summary for the new and to recap:
You are Alex. A newly minted trainer and camping enthusiast just starting out on your journey at the age of seventeen after your father lost his job in order to help pay the bills. On the road, you met Fie, the Fire Gym Leader, Gareth a novice Aura Guardian on pilgrimage and Holly, a runaway heiress using a pseudonym. You've also made enemies of Team Green a group of violent, radical activists looking to abolish pokemon training.
Recently, Fie returned to her gym for the time being.
Last thread, you caught a Rotom for the roadhouse nurse, had some lunch, meditated with Gareth, introduced Nika to battling and stopped a guy from bothering Martha by challenging him to a battle. Darkness.
You wake with your cheek pressed to wet stone. The air is thick with rot—human and otherwise. Your mouth tastes like iron and ash, your head rings with a pain that feels… old. Heavy.
You try to sit up. Your limbs respond slowly, as if they’ve forgotten how. The world tilts. Your stomach lurches, empty. You catch yourself against the wall—rough-hewn and damp with something foul.
The smell here is ancient: mold, sweat, shit, smoke. You are not alone, though you can’t see anyone. You can barely see at all.
There’s no light. No fire. Not even the ghost of moonlight. You’re deep—deep—underground.
Somewhere nearby, a rat skitters. A chain clinks. A voice coughs. But none of it feels… familiar.
Not this place.
Not your body.
Not even your own name.
You reach for something—anything—a scrap of memory, a face, a word. Nothing comes.
No.
Not nothing. There’s something there, clawing at the edge of your mind. A flicker. A sound. A smell. A name, half-spoken in a dream.
You just have to reach for it. 
"I took my first breaths long before there was rain."
-Unknown source, possibly an Astropath attached to the Xi-40 Explorator Fleet
This shouldn't be working. It's impossible for it to be working.
---
Read the previous threads at: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=False%20Woman
You possess an amount of Strain equal to your Conditioning score. When attempting actions beyond your current capacity, you gain a point of Strain. Attempting to Strain while at maximum Strain will result in a Strain Check. During a Strain Check, roll 1d10 for every point of the relevant Parameter. Results that are 6 or above count as one success. Results of 10 count as two successes. Three successes must be rolled to avert a critical failure. Fail or pass, after a Strain Check, you cannot Strain again until you restore your Strain by seeking shelter.
This quest allows you to designate a second-choice vote on decisions with three or more options before Write-Ins. When votes are totaled, the option with the least votes for it will be removed, with votes for that option instead being changed to the second-choice of those voters. Second-choice votes are also used to break ties. This helps increase the accuracy of votes, but is not mandatory. Please specifically mark your second-choice as such if you do so.
Vote stay open for a minimum of six hours, but will usually take longer.
A note: My writing style is pretty dry, but don't mistake that for it being serious. Previous threads can be found on archive.moe.
Recap:
>You are some weird fuckin' amphibian creature. You're stuck in some weird fuckin' prison of sorts.
>You've met a talking, walking artillery shell, by the name of Shelly. She has some sort of fear of chairs.
>You've also met a tall, puffy-haired dude named Jim, who's in the cell next to you. He says the only thing in his room is a big red button.
>Your goal? Figure out what's going on and then get the hell out of this place.
(1/3) 
Previous Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%202nd%20Primarch%20Quest
_
In the depths of the warp, two princes of daemon-kind uplifted and ennobled from human stock, one of the grandfather of plague's teeming brood and the other a prized son of the lord of excess, competed against one another to claim two prizes. A spirit descended from Isha and Kurnous' stock, and the branded head of the wandering dragon, the mist lurker, the truthseeker, Lieren. They flew to confront you, from the citadel they both claimed and held, each racing to beat the other to be the first to cross their blades with you and be the first to draw blood.
But as the corpse flower knight and swan knight both left their shared keep, you knew the departed souls of your friends and companions, the brave souls of heroes of Long-Jia and mankind, slipped through the defenses and walls of their fortress of pitted, rusted iron and mirror polished silver. And as you flew at your two enemies, upon a nimbus of the white wind of the empyrean Hysh, holding within one of your hands the paradox of emotion and rationality forged into a spear and in the other a joyful tear turned to a jade mercy, contained within the protocol taught to you by the long hidden wisdom of the old ones, you considered the most efficient means to distract these anomalously brotherly wicked spirits of two of the six competing discordant courts.
The progeny of Na Gou, lurched up a stairway formed of crawling slime molds and withering rotten spines, donning a heavy armor over their body of bones entangled into creeping vines and roots. The scion of Se Nie, however, flew upon deceptively pristine and fair wings. The Swan knight would reach you first. And that was a obstacle in your plan. They both needed to be near so they both may be caught in a mist of true and honest mercy and innocent joy. Both of which were deadly poison to the black natured spirits of chaos. But that complication was easily resolved.
"Fly, oh cloud of purity" You whisper and urge to the nimbus of light you stand astride upon "Fly and bring me to the shadows who bring gloom and corruption to all they touch"
Upon your command, the white wind beneath your feet sword, shooting through the ever changing skies of the empyrean realm like a bolt of lightning. The swan knight's wing spread and they turned, adjusting their trajectory as you shot past them but out of reach
"See, oh swan of the lakes of debauchery! The panther child seeks their doom by my hand and hammer!" The corpse bloom knight chortles and warbles as you fly closer to them, then with a sudden change of the position of your feet within the nebula of pure light, curved your path over their head and out of reach of their swinging hammer and the groping molds that sprung from its cracks like weeds in a garden
Cont 
Ten years ago King Aiden Perenolde betrayed the Alliance and sided with the Horde of Orgrim Doomhammer. Nine years ago Prince Alric Perenolde, the second heir of Alterac was sent into exile for his own protection. This exile turned permanent and Captain Normand Garside, your guardian for the past nine years made sure that you were safe and learned the useful skills that would help you in the future.
Now you are ready to carry the responsibility and unite the scattered Alteraci people and reclaim the lands that were once the Kingdom of Alterac.
For Eligius the past several days have been rather dreary days. Since revealing to others that he is in fact a warlock, he has been forced to be more on his toes than before. And when they got into Strahnbrad, Pai decided that their cover story would that of a married couple, and of course later that night she tried to get close to Eligius. That didn’t work to Pai’s disappointment as Eligius was revealed to have the fear of being touched. Now the unlikely duo have enlisted themselves to help the Syndicate in Strahnbrad as things there are going to get more busy.
For Malevus the campaign has been full of work. To bury and bless the dead according to the rites and rituals of the Church. To console those who are dying or have lost their friends. To heal and patch up those who will survive their wounds. The work she did wasn’t easy and she knew that more work would be ahead of her. At least she managed to acquire an assistant that lifted a bit of work from her shoulders.
For Alric the campaign has been full of fighting and marching through the ancient forest. Battling both the gnolls and the influence of Fel, Alric metaphorically knee deep in dead gnolls and blood carved a path of Total Gnoll Death through Durnholde. He fought against a gnoll mage and its warband in the north, he brought the Alteracis against gnolls in the clearing and burned them all alive. Hundreds of gnolls dead for very few of his own at the end of the day.
And now he is ready to finish the job.
Welcome to Alterac Resurgent Quest!
…
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MedivhQM
/qst/ Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Alterac%20Resurgent%20Quest
Prince Alric Stats: https://pastebin.com/rysxdRsv
Quest Mechanisms: https://pastebin.com/CyD88qqf
Character List: https://pastebin.com/FkYd6wkJ
Side Character Stats: https://pastebin.com/aRfyksUG You step into the sand-filled shoes of Courier 6 on the eve of the second battle of Hoover Dam. Your plan is to single-handedly kick the two powers out and create the society New Vegas deserved. This is a soft reboot of the same quest from 2021 that can be partially found on SupTG and moe.
Much like a first love, I could never get this quest out of my head and have committed to restart it. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO KNOW ABOUT OR HAVE PLAYED THE PREVIOUS ITERATION. God knows there’s not enough players on /qst/ as it is.
The Courier has 10 in all S.P.E.C.I.A.L. stats, as well as 100 in all skills. He also has access to all equipment and loot not exclusive to a faction quest. Companions will depend on player choices. Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=40kai
Refresher/Infodump: https://rentry.org/416641021
Big Recap: https://rentry.co/40kAIRecap >Opening Animation:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOGtHrj8Kts
>Thread 1 Archive:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5873422/
>Summary:
You are the SOLSTICE, the final remnant of the treasonous 12th suppression fleet. Retrieve your scattered crew and seek redemption. 
DC Quest: The New Blood #1
Metropolis, Gotham, Star City, Atlantis, Themyscira. These were once the homes of just some of the world's finest heroes, now these places are nothing but dust. Corpses of humans, metahumans, and aliens all from a previous variety of alignments, lay defeated and finally at rest across these many places, leaving only one being standing amongst them.
>HAIL DARKSEID
The sound of chanting and applause is so powerful it's as if this universe itself was rejoicing in his victory. Somewhere on this conquered planet, this world's new king sits atop a throne of his defeated adversaries. The few inhabitants of this planet who somehow survived this massacre have either submitted themselves to the whim of it's ruler, or, are hiding and biding their futile last moments. Among the king, his loyal servants. A monstrous creature with a vice like grip in one hand around the throat of a dead kryptonian. The next, an alien garbed in yellow standing
stoic and looking off into the chanting crowd. A cackling jester, caged, but rejoicing in the desecrated environment around him. A shapeless and everchanging being is the last among them.
>HAIL DARKSEID
Somewhere out in these ruinous cityscapes, a speedster, beaten and barely holding on for his life wakes up and gasps for air. Taking in his surroundings the sound of the cheering drives the pain ringing through his head to a threshold never reached before. "This.. this is all wrong, he speaks to himself, barely being able to finish. Finally, he gathers the strength to hobble back onto his feet, trying his hardest to make a breakneck pace, though what is barely a jog is all he can seemingly do right now. "I can change this, I HAVE to fix this", he says, slowly gaining more speed as his attempts continue.
>HAIL DARKSE-
Time slows, bolts and crackles sound off underneath the speedsters feet, "I know there's something.. we missed, someone must know something", he says. Finally after his accelerated healing had kicked in enough,
he makes a mad dash and is.. gone? The world turns backwards, previous lengthy battles flash by in mere seconds, those once dead are standing once again, the world is healed, the scales have been tipped,
something feels different though he cannot place it. At the end of his run backwards through time he stops and looks around quickly once more, breathing raggedly he says, "A little further back than I mean to go but..", he slumps to the ground. Everything fades to black.
>BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
Your digital alarm sounds off, rousing up from your sleep you stretch and yawn as your eyes grow accustom again to the daylight filling your bedroom. Your mother calls you from downstairs, feeling like it's a good idea
to not keep her waiting, you get up and prepare for your day. Standing in front of your mirror you get a good look at your;
>Male Body
>Female body 
This will be a short one dungeon campaign. The entire game will be set in the dungeon without the ability to retreat to civilisation (you'll still be able to camp in the nearby wilderness). Since editing the battlemap every time a character moves to another square would be an utter pain in the ass, combat will play out a bit differently, the details of which will be revealed throughout the campaign. Don't be afraid to ask questions.
~CAMPAIGN INFO~
----------------------------
Game: BECMI (Rules Cyclopedia) (Archive link: https://archive.org/details/tsr01071theddrulescyclopedia305pages)
Setting: Mystara
Module: In Search of the Unknown
Players: 4
Player level: 3rd
Campaign goal: find the treasury and escape the dungeon with the loot
~HOMEBREW~
----------------------
Mana: Vancian memorisation is replaced with mana where 1st level spells cost one point, 2nd level 2 points, etc. (since a 3rd level magic-user can cast two 1st lvl spells and one 2nd lvl spell, now they have a mana pool of 4 points)
Men & Magic: for each level above 1st you can choose a random henchman or a random magical item
Multiclassing: you must sacrifice a level to add a level from another class (example: you can be a lvl 3 fighter or a lvl 1 fighter and lvl 1 magic-user)
Weapon limitations: mages and clerics can choose which weapons they can use instead of just daggers and blunt weapons, mages can choose one weapon and clerics three
Playing as a monster: you can play as a monster of no more than 3 HD, weaker monsters can add class levels (example: a 1 HD goblin can add 2 class levels)
~CHARACTER SHEET~
---------------------------------
Name:
Class:
Alignment:
Level:
Hit points:
Armor class:
Strength:
Dexterity:
Constitution:
Intelligence:
Wisdom:
Charisma:
Saving throws: DR/P ,MW ,P/TS ,DB ,R/S/S
Movement rate:
THAC0:
Equipment:
Spells & powers: 
What seemed to be the calm before the storm has become a different type of natural disaster. Casually introducing Crossbill to your friends and family has rapidly evolved into a Family Reunion, a wide Agency meeting, and a random recruitment session. The actual heist you were planning on doing is on the back burner for now.
After Chio’s unfortunate relapse, she was brought back to her room with your stupid ass portrait placed on the wall. Collectively, you all decided to move it there because she loved it! In fact, her devotion was so great that she kicked everyone out of her room except for Wilma to spend time ‘alone’ with it. You never thought you’d be overshadowed by your own portrait, but here you are.
Even if initially this meeting with Punk-P was meant to be serious from beginning to end, she ended up appreciating the turmoil, and didn’t mind how the events unfolded. Not having to look at it on the wall must’ve been a plus.
That doesn’t mean that this tomato duo is out of the equation, no, Chio wants to have a talk with everyone involved. She wants them to come to her room in pairs. Ones she designed. Just a friendly exchange of words, maybe words of gratitude…
Crossbill and Yu Yan are more than satisfied by what their mysterious box accomplished.
...
Who shall be sacrificed?
>Yu Yan and Crossbill. It was their idea!
>Nariko and Amelia. You already spent some time with them!
>Write In.
Pumpkin is here! What now?
>Have a serious 1-on-1 conversation with your star talent. One of.
>Let the surviving pair join the talk. It’s the preamble before the Meeting.
>Tell Pumpkin you can talk in the Kitchen while you cook some Chicken Wings for Huge Irma.
>Write In. 
"Happy Birthday, Our Brave Boys. You are now twenty years of age and it is time you embark on your Youthful Journey so that you may learn and grow to return home as men. Make farewells to your family, your friends, and your neighbors, for they will surely miss you, but never forget the Memories you made with them, so you can share them to new friends you will make from across the nation. Make us proud and become the man we need to preserve and continue Our Memories."
Every month, around 10,000 boys are shipped to Sleepy Waters for their twentieth birthday. They travel by rail or paddle streamer from their home village or town, most taking no longer than 16 hours on their voyage. It was a common sight to see so many old boys traveling during the last day of every month, carrying nothing but the clothes on their back, some cash for when they become hungry on their way to Sleepy Waters, and a slip of paper containing their personal details.
Sleepy Waters was not a pleasant sight to behold, entirely devoid from the expanse of farm fields and meadows nearly all boys are accustomed to. Those from the capital aren't as shocked as their rural counterparts but it was sill undesirable for its dull colors and muddy tracks, though the chimneys of smoke was more familiar to them. The boys entered Sleepy Waters on foot, forming a few of the longest lines under a canopy, turning and weaving to fit as many under to get away from the unfortunate rain.
Upon approaching the head of the line, one would come across an older gentleman in a dark uniform demanding each boy's slip of paper in exchange for a metallic tag with a string of numbers. He would copy the number onto the slip of paper given to him and call for the next boy.
***INTRODUCTION***
Greetings, this is not meant to be a conventional quest, instead mimicking some previous threads on /tg/ where I just shared my worldbuilding while drawing cute soldier boys. Often times people will ask questions about the setting or project themselves as a character in the threads, writing their thoughts, dreams, desires, and fears. I almost always entertain every remark and comment in the form of a drawing as the threads move onto a short story following the anons' until into a story's conclusion.
The real purpose of this quest is just for me to draw cute soldier boys. 
With the majority of the Seventh Universe united under the banner of the PTO, Emperor Cooler at its head, the universe has known a time of unrivaled peace. But in the shadows threats have been growing, nursing grudges against the PTO and the Saiyan race in particular. And now those threats are rising, stepping out of the shadows to openly challenge the established order. Seeking nothing short of the destruction of New Salda and the extinction of the entire Saiyan race, can you prevent this outcome? Or will the Saiyan race be reduced to nothing more than memories, their heroes nothing more than ink in the pages of the history books?
You the players will (most often) control Karn; wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul and hope of the entire PTO, not only the Saiyan race. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has grown in power and skill, overcoming the world-ending threats that have come for the Saiyans to become the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759. From the massive Covenant empire to demonic incursions, mad cultists to vengeful gods, none have been strong or clever enough to put down Karn for good. But will one man's power be enough to protect everyone from the rising threats? Or will death come from those who you least expect it from? Your choices may mean the difference between survival and extinction, so choose carefully.
Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM
Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice
>One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun
SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tndKYpPz2RU
REVENGE OF THE BODY SNATCHERS 
For as long as there has been human civilisation, there has been competition, cooperation, rivalry and wars. For all the great heights our ancestors carried us to, they could fall greatly as well. Their legacies, whatever works and scraps their successors manage to gather, will lead to the next great heights, and so the great and eternal cycle shall continue.
From the cradle in Sumeria to the poleis of Ancient Greece, the great empires of the classical period, the feudal mediaeval kingdoms, the competing early modern proto-states, the great imperial powers of the 19th century, and the ideologically charged nation-states of the later eras. Throughout it all, there has been one truth: man can never unify with himself unless the situation would become truly dire.
And so it was; with the coming of interstellar travel would come an era of unity and prosperity. The next two and a half millennia would be a time of great bliss for all of humanity, one where man would come into contact with the alien life that had so greatly captured man's imagination. There would be friendships, there would be wars, and above it all else, there was adventure and advancement. The federation would proudly uphold and exalt its democratic values and would help to share these values with whoever wished to listen.
But all good things must come to an end. And a great malaise would come over this once-great republic. Economic downturns, rampant piracy and a variety of technological setbacks would lead to several successful but costly wars with the alien species, costing man both his neighbours and whatever few friends he had left.
Man was once more alone, something he had better not have been. What followed was half a millennium of coups, secessions, and civil wars. There would be no recovery, not this time. A galactic dark age would descend upon all of humanity, as attempts to recapture something of the past came and went.
By the time you were born, semblances of states had been in place for a while.
The Pan-Solar Empire of Humanity now rules over the largest rump state in the vicinity; it formally claims dominion over all of humanity, though these pretences are often forgotten, even by their own emperors.
You were fortunate enough to be born into a prosperous position among the lower nobility. Your father was, in his time, an able and diligent gentleman who made his career in the civil service, a career he finished with a large estate covering a continent and the title of baron.
He was also a shrewd investor too and kept many connections with the imperial government over the years. Perhaps that is why you were eventually selected for the post on that fateful day.
Your youth was one of idle leisure and gifted study; no matter what happened, as your father's eldest son, you could always fall back upon the idle life of a country gentleman. Your name is Hoik Broadback, a young Vetucker man in the Hegemony. While your exact age by solar cycles is difficult to determine, due to being born on a far away planet from your homeworld with an elipitcal orbit; you are categorized by your Jaxtian-Standard Biological Aging rate to be Eighteen Years old.
As with all Hegemonic citizens, your time is evenly split between training, work, social time, and play. You have a pretty busy schedule with a scarce few hours a day for leisure, but that's okay. It's expected for guys your age, plus you volunteered to help clean the workshop today. You put some of your things into a locker as you hear a musical voice call out from behind.
”Hi Hoik~!”
You feel flushed as you turn and see the owner of that voice, one Ophia Ulantri, a Jaxtian girl who's been in a lot of your classes. And she works in the facility too, just in a different department. You try to lean back against the locker, but can't figure out where to put your hands. 
Fourth Thread, First Post:
The Fourth Thread of Fatale Albion!
The Fatale Albion Thread Archive:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Fatale%20Albion
Other Threads by Lumina Canima:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=meguca+royale
INTRO (Please do not skip this)
◕ Fatale Albion is a Spin-Off of Lumina Canima’s “Meguca Royale”, taking place in the U.K. Three players are currently taking part in this game. They each will answer to their own prompts with their own characters. This Quest will have major spoilers for PMMM, so if you haven’t watched it yet and don’t want me to ruin it for you, watch it right now or else. If you still want to read and participate in this quest then I’ll have something to show you.
◕ In the previous thread, Abigail learned some of the details related to her new Soul Room-mate, learned some new techniques to utilise her Magic, and initiated a date with her boyfriend. Stephanie and her sister almost got mugged with a knife (it’s the UK, what did you expect?) but Stephanie still had her longsword as it didn’t disappear with her Magical Girl outfit and she fended off the cur after insulting him furiously, she then agreed to binge Anime with her sister after getting home. Alba learned that she is a goddamn Magical Girl from her friend/personal tailor, was offered to be part of a mission to get rid of Grief all over the UK by said friend, and learned an obscure, occult, nearly unusable language by said friend as well.
Stephanie’s actions were posted last thread, Abigail’s actions were given to me through an alternative communication channel, and we have been waiting for Alba’s return.
OTHER STUFF
>Can I also join in the suffering?
I’ve decided that I’m accepting new players for now. Just fill in this Contract Form and you’ll be all set.
Name: (The name of your character. Shameless Self-Insert or not)
Appearance: (The garish looks of your character. Clothing descriptions are also welcome.)
Quirks: (Personality traits, how they behave. Examples of how they act in specific situations are good. This space is vague intentionally, but remember: Simplicity is power and Brevity is the Soul of Wit.)
Wish: (The Wish that you made with your Incubator. Your magical ability and theme is influenced heavily by your Wish. Make sure to be careful, some wishes have unforeseen consequences.) 
Past Thread: >>6183798
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Missval
General Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/5hFQZtc3
Character Sheet (Back to the good old days, for now): https://pastebin.com/xA4G6LMk
Twitter/X account for important announcements, contact and stuff: https://x.com/MissvalQM
Your name is Shelly Suzume. A member of the White Fang. You didn’t start out this way, and you certainly never expected to join them, but at least it’s temporary. Probably. Then again, you did receive an offer to lead one of its branches. The idea is… enticing, but it’s something you still need to think about, especially since that branch happens to be in one of the scummiest places imaginable.
Speaking of scum, you just witnessed one of the most… interesting meetings you’ve ever attended. You saw most of Kuchinashi’s underworld big shots with your own eyes. Then again, at this point, the entire city is the underworld. You probably left a good impression on them. Maybe.
Your boss, Taylor, just allied himself with the Black Sheep. That doesn’t exactly sit well with you, but, well… politics aren’t really your thing. Or at least, you haven’t had much reason to deal with them, yet. If you accept Taylor’s offer, that might change.
Oh! And also. You infiltrated a Black Sheep’s underground weird warehouse-gallery-tunnel thing. Nothing too bad here. Just a few bodies here and there. Poor souls, victims of… something.
And to top it all off with a golden brooch, you accidentally ran into (most likely) the two most dangerous people in all of Kuchinashi. Maybe even Mistral. Just skulking around, exploring the same warehouses as you.
--- 
“The Krieger Corp is the life for me,
A gun, a bed and a grave for free.
That’s my lot in the Black Company.”
It took the Earth 10 long years to die. Like every planet afflicted by the pervasive sentient plague that swept the galaxy at the turn of the 23rd century, aptly named The Rot, Earth’s demise was slow and agonising at first then violent and sudden by the end. The seas boiled and the air turned to ash in the wake of the continent-shattering orbital bombardments that cleansed her and a hundred other worlds.
20 years later, the dust of the Purification Wars has settled and the surviving xenos empires have finished carving up the remaining colonies of those less fortunate races between them, including those few left from Earth’s initial phase of expansion. Just rewards for the victorious alien’s part in saving the galaxy. The surviving human population, once many billions, now numbers in the mere millions. An entire race of refugees, vagrants and backwater outcasts begging, stealing and labouring as second-class citizens, servants or slaves under uncaring alien masters.
A lifetime of backbreaking work for stale recycled oxygen units and a handful of credits is the best fate most humans can hope for. Little wonder then that the violent but lucrative life of a mercenary holds such appeal. As the novelty of peace wears off and the rival alien nations rattle their sabres once more, human mercenaries are in high demand for their crude effectiveness and affordable prices.
And of all the human mercenary firms, there are none so infamous and so highly sought after as the services of the Black Company…
=============================================
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BlackCompany666
/qst/ Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=2230AD
2230AD Annal Entries: https://pastebin.com/zBic3fPQ [Updated!]
Recorded Xenos Species: https://pastebin.com/vdG01RzG
The Last Human Colonies: https://pastebin.com/VA3nHbTm
Advanced Firefight Rules: https://pastebin.com/NATmyFSw >You are Erman Fish, a young, sprightly fisherman looking to catch them all! On this sunny morning, you've been given a rod and a hat by your father, and your fishing journey has begun!
>Catch numerous species, obtain upgrades, and defeat the boss of each locale to carry on!
>Whether it's for eating, trophies, or keeping, every fish has a purpose, and nets you some money!
Catalog:
Powerups only apply the next day
>Chum Bucket: Eliminates the risk of duds (Min roll)- $10
>Ice Bucket: Allows you to store 1 fish until it becomes CATCH OF THE DAY and can be sold for double- $5
>Twin Hook (T2): Chance to catch double fish- $5
>Reinforced Rod (T2): Flat +1 bonus to reel dice- $10
To fish:
>Roll 3 d10s (one per anon)
>1st dice is Fish variety
>2nd dice is Reel Strength (Beat a minimum per fish to capture)
>3rd dice is Size The university raid is finally underway as William and his party fights off the security as they make their way to destroy the headmaster's research. 
You are Tristain d’Rusalka, a noble from the United Kingdom of Fodlan born with unique abilities bestowed upon you by the Goddess. You have journeyed across the sea to the desert kingdom of Morfis after receiving an invitation to join a mysterious competition. Though you know little of the trials that lie ahead, the winner of this contest has been promised the hand of Morfis’ Princess, Yulia Xan Phanes, in marriage. Seeking adventures, thrills, and battles that would be worthy of your might, you embarked on this strange voyage with nothing but your trusted axe.
After having arrived at the mountain town of Hima, you were quickly pulled into a confrontation between the local garrison and the dreaded Cult of the Serpent. In your attempt to learn more about the Cult’s activities, you inadvertently caused a religious schism which found you as the new figurehead of one of its branches. Partnering with Hima’s defenders as well as one of your rivals in the competition for Princess Yulia’s hand, you defeated the Cult’s main army. In doing so, you acquired a new mount for yourself; an exceedingly rare white wyvern capable of sorcery, whom you named Fionn.
Grateful for your assistance, the Governor of Hima offered to train you in the art of fighting atop your newfound companion. You have now spent the last five days familiarizing yourself with Fionn and growing accustomed to his movements. You will soon leave for your next destination, Shangri-La. The fabled “Palace of Debauchery” will be your last stop before finally arriving at the City of Morfis.
>Tristain d’Rusalka
>Level 30/50 Wyvern Lord (EXP: 0/100)
HP: 61/61 (120%)
Strength: 34 (65%)
Magic: 20 (40%)
Speed: 25 (30%)
Defense: 26 (60%)
Resistance: 16 (40%)
Luck: 15 (55%)
>Skill: Resolve (When HP falls to less than 35%, Strength, Speed and Defense increase by 7)
>Dragon-kin Wyvern (SPD based chance for Fionn to launch an ice attack, dealing ½ MAG Damage.)
>Weapons: Silver Axe (+16 ATK), Hammer (+8 ATK, 3x DMG vs Armor Knights), Devil Axe (+21 ATK, -20 HP when Used) Iron Bow (+6 ATK)
>Spells:
Fire (+3 ATK, 5 Uses)
Elfire (+7 ATK, 3 Uses)
Wind (+3 ATK, 5 Uses, 3x DMG vs flying)
>Abilities:
Crest of Indech: You are able to make a follow-up attack on one foe, regardless of Speed. (4 Charges)
Crest of Macuil: Double the attack power of a magic spell. (3 Charges)
Combat Art: Earthsplitter: Cleave all enemies standing two rows in front of you. (Cost: 1 Crest of Indech Charge)
Combat Art: Throw: (Toss your weapon at an enemy and return it to your hand. Ranged attack.) (1 Crest of Indech Charge)
>Items: Concoction x5 (+20 HP)
>Gold: 300g
>Tristain’s Party: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1mrlj-c7Oe51qIoat3LJfDSv0Bw2nmExQT2EqlKlWPGw/edit?usp=sharing
>Combat Rules:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1m_UvIqCmBRzmrlu0mvttVkGRRI8bIkT6iTTrDR_J5zo/edit?usp=sharing
>Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Sorcerer%20Kingdom 
It is estimated that over 5 billion species have gone extinct throughout Earth's history. In the year 21XX, Humanity came to join that number. The chain of events leading up to this exodus has long since been forgotten, but a silver lining remained: Mankind would cease to exist on Earth, yet avoided total eradication by shunting itself into a hidden sanctuary known as the Digital World.
Your dying race discovered the sprawling infrastructure of this virtual ark right as they reached the event horizon of global biosphere collapse. Myriad wars had already broken out over the remaining resources, cutting down substantial portions of the population and resulting in the fall of numerous states. When news broke of this alternate world's discovery, nations looked up from their bloody squabbles, sick of fighting over scraps like dogs, and listened well and hard. Then came the final cooperative effort humanity would undertake: A project to move the minds of every living soul into the network, where trailblazers were working tirelessly to establish a new frontier for mankind. One without borders, without limits, without the contrivances of a material world that was dying thanks to their actions. This effort was a resounding success.
And now, God knows how many years later, you're sick of it. You want out. 
To wit; it cannot be gainsaid that the Many Mysteries are well-without the purview of Flegmat, or any other author herein this Canon; truly, it is that they would write of Mysterious Medicine and Healing Arts with the same authority as a Counter-Clerk would of chirurgery! However, here Flegmat wrestles – gainfully, mind – with the long-historied role that those who Delved had on the mundane study of Humorous Nature. His accounting of the rise into good-grace of the Fourfold Theory is well-fleshed, though not novel to anyone passably read. The account of the subsequent fall from good-grace and the too-incremental acceptance of its successor, the Comprehensive Theory - elsewhere named as the Singular or the Singular Comprehensive Theory - is novel, controversial, and in the eyes of some, perhaps even dangerous. As its inclusion was not a decision gently made nor borne, so it may be said that it being rendered here at all is testament to the strength of Flegmat's argumentation, and the butcher's bill that the slow adoption of Singular Theory has needlessly wrought.
- A preface from a Stricken printing of The Canon of Medicine, a collection of writings on medical history by a number of authors. The Fourfold Theory held that for man there is an internal alchemical balance of phlegm, blood and bile - both yellow and black - and that when balance between these four is lost, illness and malady are inevitable. The Comprehensive Theory holds that there is but one 'family' of Humors, not four - hence Singular - and that it is the presence of these Humors, not the balance of them, that are responsible for illnesses. Medical interventions that ascribe to the Comprehensive Theory of Humors are more successful than those that ascribe to the Fourfold Theory, though as the Comprehensive Theory was developed by Witches as opposed to Physicians, its adoption in the fields of Mundane medicine has been slow, partially on account of the inclement association, but primarily as any benefits from implementing the theory in practice were misattributed to Mysterious Medicine, and were assumed to be beyond mundane practitioners.
In Scrimshaw Mount, all graves are shallow. Even on the Promontory, where Nature, through the permutations of the Pattern had placed soil on the otherwise nude basalt of the Mount, the bone white stone was never more than a few feet down, commonly less than one. As such, getting graves to the standard depth of eight feet was simply not practical for those interned in the Mount's public burying grounds. But those that lived their lives and died their deaths on the Mount didn't take overmuch umbrage at their shallow graves. For both the practical and pious among them understood full well that under the panopticonical Gaze of the Patternmaker Above … all things are shallow. 
For House and Dominion: A Knight's Tale
https://houseanddominion.fandom.com/wiki/HouseAndDominion_Wiki#Upcoming_Games_and_Shorts
https://twitter.com/ThatSlowTypingG
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJD5yRdvg1U [Transformers One Theme]
It is the 41st century. Great star empires that span galaxies make up the Factions of known space. Two decades of war saw the Factions united against a common foe; the Neeran Empire. With the Empire's defeat the Factions are once again at peace, but few are willing to risk falling into complacency and malaise once more.
Great star fleets still ply the space lanes, keeping the peace and keeping a watchful eye for new threats. These fleets, once built for war, are increasingly being turned towards exploration. The neutral Navigators Guild leads the expansion, plotting new safe routes to distant galaxies. Meanwhile the Factions Alliance military act as their guardians, protecting the explorers and evaluating threats to Faction space.
The Alliance fleets still act as the defenders of Faction space, guarding against external threats. Called on to police the borders of the former Neeran Empire and support exploration efforts, they are stretched thin on all fronts. Fortunately there is no shortage of old soldiers and adventurous youths looking for a cause if the price is right. Some are more sought after than others.
In the Neeran Wars all the Factions suffered to some extent. Entire worlds were destroyed, stripped of life or reduced to rubble. The heart was torn out of the Shallan Federation while the Terran Alliance and Dominion of Royal Houses staggered from lost worlds and a refugee crisis. Worse the Dominion fell into civil war at the worst possible time.
The Dominion civil war saw many dozens of Houses conquered by their neighbours or otherwise overthrown. Some simply saw a change in government, changing sides and aligning themselves with their former enemies. Others would be annexed or dissolved outright. Even years after the conflict its remnants still linger. The dispossessed are Knights and nobles of Dominion Houses that have lost their lands and territory. Many still have personal fortunes and enough resources to be dangerous.
Knights Errant are made up of those dispossessed still determined to take up arms in some cause. Entire chapters of Knights Errant exist, some choosing to defend the Dominion, others simply banding together for safety. Regardless of reason these knights are often some of the best warriors in known space and a resource the Alliance does not hesitate to draw upon.
Your House may have long ago fallen but there is still hope for the future. Work for the Alliance protecting the exploration fleets will be dangerous but could provide the tools and opportunity necessary to some day restore your House. 
(To everyone who signed up, I hope you are ready. I know I am. I have decided to start us in the northern mountain kingdoms. The 'group' has not yet formed, but everyone is here. I will leave it up to you (mostly) as to why. If you want to join and have not gotten your character verified yet, please do so here:
>>6214296.
Elsewise, please enjoy!)
The Grimstone Inn, is located on the eastern mountain range of Saxondy, the easternmost of the Northern Mountain Kingdoms. First established 20 years ago, it serves as the farthest one can get away from civilization, outside of troll country, of course. While in the most technical of senses, it was located outside of the boarders of the kingdom, the only way to was through a mountain pass, which split off from a road to one of the boarder fortresses. The location served to provide it with some measure of privacy, for those eighter looking to disappear, or to glean information. The Order of Pendrake, the chapter of monster hunters who patrolled these parts, was far more concerned with incursions into troll country or preventing voidspawn from sneaking past the boarder, then with the Grimstone. Furthermore, because of its location, it was provided some measure of protection by the Garison, roughly 3 miles south and 5 west. Then again, there was a reason why they kept arms locked up in the basement. Regardless, for any looking to hide, looking for those hiding, or looking for information, a better place could not be found. Who are you, and what would you like to do? 
Time and time again, you find yourself thinking about Lady Megistus. Though you’re aware of no bond of blood or lineage, you still feel a sense of kinship with her. In some strange way, you feel as if you might understand one another. It may be a futile hope, but you keep wondering. What if, by some remote miracle, she was still alive somewhere within the labyrinth? What could she teach you, and at what cost?
Questions haunt you, but dinner offers a fleeting sense of reprieve. No expense has been spared, either in the quality of the ingredients or the talent involved in the cooking. You suppose that small comforts like these are vital for life far up in the remote mountains. The old Martense family might have neglected them, but the new generation is not beyond the allure of fine food and wine.
Jan’s parents swiftly withdraw after the meal, as if sensing that they might be intruding upon private conversations or, perhaps, simply seeking out their own solitude. They are, after all, still Martense.
“So Bard, Jan tells me that you’ve seen that sister of yours!” Daniel announces, gesturing towards you with his fork, “Why didn’t you say anything? You know I’ve been wanting to meet her for years.”
“Why do you think I didn’t say anything?” you counter, softening the rebuke with a laugh. All jokes aside, you’re vaguely terrified of what might happen if the two of them were to meet. You’re not sure that both of them would come out alive.
“Hmm. You could at least tell me what she’s like. Elle?” the soldier insists, “I’m not going to ask Bard. He’s hardly an unbiased source, after all.”
“Oh, um, she’s very…” Elle hesitates, “She’s just a normal girl, really. There’s nothing to get excited about.”
You can tell that Daniel is far from convinced, but Jan clears his throat before any further questions can be asked. “How about a game?” he offers, “I forgot to mention earlier, we found some in one of the storage rooms. I think you might like this one, Isambard.”
“Lead on, then,” you urge, grabbing onto the excuse with both hands. Jan nods, getting up and guiding you through to another room. A map lies spread out across a long table, while a scattering of small metal models awaits your attention. You see cavalry sitting atop proud horses, and a mixture of infantry wielding archaic weaponry.
It’s one of THOSE games. 
Amongst the squat, broad, and thickly-forested hills north and east of Hawksong, between the savage barrier of the cold Orcwilds and the lush plenty of the elves’ shrinking Silver Realm, there is a land called The Steelwood by those who live there. For centuries, it has been a place of constant (if often low-level and intermittent) conflict. Elf and Man, Man and Orc, Orc and Elf, all have fought and shed blood there, and their fallen swords, shields, and spears litter the land and give it its name. Each of them claims a birthright to this inauspicious area. Eash of them claims that their ancestors staked their claim first, before the others arrived.
But if you ask the Dwarves, they are all wrong.
Your party—The Monstrous Regiment—came to The Steelwood to earn a cut of a lucrative dwarven corporate contract. The contract was initially taken by another adventuring outfit calling themselves ‘The Delvers’, whom you met after an unexpected team-up hunting lake monsters, and whose technical focus would complement your party’s particular skillset: goblin grit, the Feycraft of a faun you found, a shrewdness born of a difficult and colourful life, and a certain occult secret up your sleeve. The Steelwood Expedition’s purpose: to find and explore the ruins of a buried pyramid among the hills, a mysterious megastructure belonging to the last of the long-defunct dwarven. After a brief break detour to pick up some local orc muscle by making a deal with local orc horde, you journeyed into the hills to survey for some potentially quite valuable ruins.
What you found was far greater, and much stranger, than any archaeological discovery you could have anticipated.
The pyramid had been plundered and illicitly inhabited by The Ettercap, a spider-faced fairy defector from the Chaotic Good gods of elvenkind. Deep within the hidden hill-fort, the disturbed demigod had laid claim to ancient wonders of a technology that predated even the dwarven race—belonging to a blue-green breed of GOBLIN, of all things—and turned the transformative power of the great bio-magical forge at its centre to a terrible purpose. Using the same processes which (as you discovered) had been used to give ancient goblins new soul and substance, and to create the races of Dwarf, Gnome, and Halfling, she has made purple-skinned and bug-eyed ‘foundlings’ from kidnapped kids taken from all over the Steelwood.
One half of your party was kidnapped, and nearly suffered the very same fate. 
Last week on Secret Weapons of the Empire, we covered the Angel-pattern Walkers. This week, we cover their arguable predecessor in Project Warden.
More commonly known as the Core Frame, the thin, spindly figure represented a radical departure from traditional Ferrum designs.
The inception came from a design request for a fast mech able to modularly mount weapons systems from other Special Warfare Projects in development, while retaining the ability to switch between those available for adaptation to a changing battlefield.
Mired in bureaucratic hangups and competition for scarce resources, the design was rewritten no less than 14 times before construction of a prototype was even started, continuously reworked to incorporate more and more cutting edge technologies.
This culminated in a 15th and final redesign under a new project lead, the visionary Dr. Anokhin. Incorporating a new experimental piloting interface proved a double-edged sword. Even in simulators, early testing of this Man-Machine interface showed the problems that would plague Wardens throughout their whole operational life.
Pilots would commonly report fatigue, nausea, vertigo, increased numbness or loss of feelings, and bloody noses upon disconnection from the simulator. Prolonged use could result in unconsciousness, stroke, seizures, or even death.
Nevertheless, promising results pushed Project Warden forwards, even expanding the project into three separate prototypes: a scouting and recon model, a trooper model, and a close assault model.
A mandate from the highest authority to prioritize and push something to the frontline in time for the next offensive forced the project to cannibalize the recon and close assault model in favor of the ‘trooper’ design. However, it took cues from the scrapped designs in the form of the fixed Predator Jamming array, and it often carried the close assault design’s Demon Claw into battle. The former piece of technology caused the iconic crackling over communications on combat recordings of the machine.
As work intensified on finishing the Warden prototype, information was leaked to the ASF, who executed Operation Dragoon, a deep-cover commando raid into the heart of the Empire.
The raid was initially considered quite successful, destroying the underground facility and capturing several high-ranking scientists, including the aforementioned Dr. Anokhin, the prototype nevertheless had been completed and moved via underground rail transport before the attack was carried out, along with design plans.
The completed prototype, nicknamed ‘Beta’, would make its debut on the southern front as part of counter-raiding forces. A series of lightning deployments against the 3rd Allied Command and Home Sector Command would be the first live-fire tests, and the ‘Thin Man’, as nicknamed by soldiers, would swiftly gain a fearsome reputation. In this world many tribes of mortals can be found. As they try to make sense of the world they began to believe in many gods. You play as the first pantheon. Will you work together to shape the world for the sake of your followers, or will you kill everyone that doesn't pray to you. The choice is yours.
Character Sheet
Name: What do your worshippers call you.
Domain: What is it you are primarily worshiped for. Can choose up to five.
Location: Pick a color and mark on the map where your worship begins.
Backstory: While the first Gods are born from the faith of their believers, they tend to believe in the myths that birthed them. Tell us what you and your followers believe to be true.
Culture (optional): Give us some information about the tribe that worships you. 
You’re ANTON PEAS: a Grill Jockey at GREASE MONKEY: THE DEEP-FRIED EVERYTHING FAMILY RESTAURANT! Well, you were, anyways. Thanks to a demonic ritual gone wrong, you were whisked away to ZORAL: a fantasy realm shrouded in perpetual darkness–the surprise trip leaving you with a plate full of troubles and a head full of holes!
To say you’ve been busy would be a rhino-sized understatement. In your quest to scrounge up the 20,000 BELLS that’ll supposedly buy you passage back home, you somehow managed to run afoul of an all-you-can-eat buffet of plots and plans! Chief among them a sinister scheme penned by the mysterious CULT OF THE WORM... the goal? WORLD DOMINATION!
Probably. You had to dip out of the meeting you snuck into a little early, but you got the gist of it!
You also found out that the cult was planning another summoning ritual in a secret hideout near HJALL’DAH’S PLUNGE to the South… just like the one that brought you here in the first place! Their goal? Summoning a DEVIL to aid their menacing machinations! Having tangled with a demon at a fraction of her power, you can only imagine how much damage a fully-charged hellspawn could do!
Before you could talk shop about your next move, however, you were waylaid by assassins sent by the sinister SPICE CARTEL: Zoral’s golden boys when it comes to organized crime! Spurred into action by your new abyssal amiga REZALITH, you decided to add a quick stop in GOLD TOWN on your road trip down South… Why?
To toast one of the Cartel’s casinos like a marshmallow!
As for how you plan on doing that, well, that’s still up for discussion!
Fueled up by hoity-toity spa treatments, ‘quality time’ with your new gal pal TZAH-TZIE, and your memories slowly trickling back into your head, THIS is where your tale continues…
https://youtu.be/1lR8VLt1Xlk 
The only things you were given in life were the visions the Dark Gods bestowed upon you. You felt their voices through your mind, to your very bones. To become their cleric—ha! Was there any other choice in life? You joined the throngs fleeing the Galgen Empire, preached to them about the Three Who Were Once Four. You fought tooth and nail, first for survival, then alongside fellow worshippers in formation.
Your brothers and sisters in the southern wastes welcomed you to the League of the Valknar. A people dedicated to the Dark Gods. You took your place as a cleric, proving in combat and in faith that you were worthy. You ARE worthy. You will prove it by magic, by sermon, and by the blood of your enemies.
~-~
The Tyrian Desert sun greets you as you step out of your manor. The air came bearing sand on the wind, bouncing harmlessly off your red cloak and crimson scales. You let the elements wash over you. You never realized how sluggish the northern climes of Galgen made you feel until you journeyed this far south. Your mouth twitches in a smile. From refugee rags to wearing cleric robes. From terrified hatchling to warrior-priest.
But becoming Lord of Tyrport was something you did not expect. A new frontier town in the war against the damnable Galgenites. A settlement once neutral - but when the imperials took hold, the League couldn’t ignore the port. The Valknarri swept down on the town. Those Galgenites captured in the battle were already sacrificed to the Valknar.
It was your first day as the lord - you had arrived last night. The town was repairing and getting ready for their new lord.
“Good morning, my lord,” a familiar voice spoke to your side. You look down, as most times you do, at the tiefling hellknight. Elkaza was not short, you simply stood over most at eight feet tall. Her ebony armor gleaned in the sun. “How was your first night in Tyrport?”
”The bed was ostentatious and much too soft. Like a mattress you’d find in a brothel.”
She gave you a knowing look.
“An, uh, upscale brothel. All silk and lavish,” you wring your hands. “I’m still used to my cot back in the Grand Keep of the Three.”
Elkaza could not hold back her chuckle. “You’re so peculiar, Rhogar. Did you at least sleep well?” You shook your head, and before she could reply, another figure entered the manor courtyard. He was followed by an entourage. Your guardsmen around the yard stood at the ready. Bearing no hostility, you wave the guards to let them in.
>cont 
As an inhabitant of the magocracy of Parsifal, nestled in a valley surrounded by tall mountains, it was a good surprise for your family when you displayed magical abilities. You were sent to the Archmage's Academy to study and become a wizard, but your grades were poor and you got kicked out. Seeking knowledge wherever you could, you joined the Adamantine Daggers, a guild of thieves and assassins. They financed your self-education in magic, bringing you stolen tomes from all over the realm. In exchange, they demanded you use your magic to further their goals.
One night, as you were doing your arcane calculations, you realized to your horror that a demonic portal was about to open in the middle of the largest city in the region. The consequences would be dire for everyone involved, so you decided to inform the guild.
They dismissed your calculations as nonsense, but you've redone them several times and they all pointed to next month as the date of the incoming demonic invasion.
No one seems to be taking this threat seriously but you! You have a month the get the fuck out of the valley!
The problem is the surrounding lands are full of barbarians, and you'd get slaughtered out there alone. You need to find people that believe your story willing to break out the valley and survive out there with you.
How are you going to proceed with this endeavour?
> Go through the streets screaming the end is near
> Find people you helped in the past within the guild
> Go look for some priest they dig these kinds of stories
> Find a very poor settlement and tell them they are the chosen people
> Write in 
Nina stares at her reflection, the water perfectly recreating her image despite the immense amount of steam emanating from it. The unblinking wraith looking back at her should cause some form of distress; rage, anguish, anxiety, yet none of it comes to surface.
She undresses, unsealing her robe with a single spell and letting it fall down on the ceramic floor. Naked, vulnerable, pure. Nothing.
All the spite and self-loathing that guided her every action is now gone, not from any big singular event, but from the constant erosion that a continued existence inevitably brings with it. She puts her index finger on her cheek, and slowly runs it down her neck, then her chest, and finally her thigh. Smooth and soft, this should bother her, it always did. She raises her hand back to her face, she bites into her hand, but it's painless, her teeth going straight through as if she's made of soft candy.
She hears a portal open behind her. There is only one other person that should have access to those baths, but maybe she hoped he would come to interrupt her as he does.
"Bad time?" Kit asks, hopping closer to the water. "I need to finetune the water, but I can come in later. Work, work, work, ya know how it is."
She kicks him into the water, with the difference in size, it was like shoving a pebble out of the way. He yelps as the almost boiling hot water sears his skin, unfortunately, he quickly adapts to the sudden shift in temperature.
Nina lets out a quiet giggle. "If you're going to take a bath, at least have the decency to undress," she says, lowering herself into the water next to him. It's a lot deeper than it appears, as she can submerge herself fully despite being much taller than nearly anyone in the school. The heat hurts, but she doesn't mind.
Kit takes off his cloak and throws it to the side. "This water doesn't wet clothes, not all students are comfortable being naked next to each other, or being cooked alive, that last part is what I came here to fix. Didn't I tell you that? Maybe I didn't, oops!"
"You did, I just don't care if you show up or not." She splashes a little bit of hot water on him. "Since you're here, what are your thoughts on the students this year?"
"Pretty good bunch. Potential here and there, few unique cases like the human and that bird girl, but nothing too worrying. I think most of em will pass, but next year might be..."
"We might need to suspend classes for the next year," Nina states, her gaze wandering over a vision only she can see. "The risk of wars has increased exponentially, and the pressure we've received from other parties to add a duel exam to our curriculum is clear, they want soldiers. The question is, are we going to give them what they're asking for." She rests her back on the border of the bath, awaiting Kit's answer. 
This is Gob. He is a goblin going to Fantasy University in the year 200X, and he wants a girlfriend!
Like his peers, he is looking for love and validation. He has no idea how to achieve either, but he is willing to try most things to achieve his goals.
Graduating would also be nice, but that is currently Gobs priority number two.
First day of school is about to start. Gob takes a look at the school pamphlet all new students receive:
---
Pre-start seminar on study techniques and other handy tips (9:15-10:30)
Library opens. Curriculum books sale and trade (10:00-18:00)
Introduction to speaking Common: The bridge between cultures (10:00-10:45)
Headcount and registration at the auditorium (11:00-12:30) (MANDATORY)
Pizza for new students and faculty (12:45-14:00)
Language and culture exhibition stands (12:45-18:15)
How to maintain mental health during hardships and setbacks (14:15-15:15)
Volunteer program introductions at the auditorium (15:00-18:00)
Forest walk, sponsored by Save the Unicorn Foundation (16:15-17:15)
---
Quite a lot of things the school has to offer first day. None of them about how to get a girlfriend unfortunately.
The clock is currently 8:00.
What does Gob start the day with? (You can vote for multiple at a time)
>Eat breakfast
>Brush teeth
>Shower
>Sleep a bit longer
>Check out the university grounds
>Attend event (which one?)
>Write in 
You are Nicole Smith. You are a SHIFTer, a person capable of using anomalous abilities to alter the world around you. You are a Cleaner, a deniable asset used by massive mega-corporations called the Alphabet Companies and anyone else willing to pay you.
And you're on the cusp of the most dangerous part of your career. Two major events you've been worried about are only a day away from happening: The HEAD MEETING (a massive corporate meeting between all twenty six of the Alphabet Companies) and the BASE ASSAULT (a self-assigned mission where you plan on raiding one of the Silver Agent's main bases to take them down).
Both of these will risk the life and limb of you and everyone you'll bring to them. Yet you know you have to face the music; You can't back away now. All you can do is prepare for the inevitable.
As for what happened last thread...
You tracked down a Syndicate of cultists who were kidnapping people and, with righteous fury, purged them from the backstreets of D-Corp. You then humored Clover and visited his old family estate. In the process you found odd lore about the creation of modern D-Company and even got your hands on illegal Singularity documents.
You met and tamed an anomaly made out of the melted remains of child test subjects that Clover's criminal father experimented on.
You then head down to R-Corp to track down AA Foxtrot. You ratted out a Silver Agent who was sneaking around in a Ranger Camp before tracking down AA to an abandoned pre-City weapons factory. There, you met a spook who wanted to work with you to deal with Shockely (one of the corporate agents working with the spooks) who went rogue.
You tracked him down, killed him, and recovered AA. You made your way over to L-Corp's district to track down Gabriel Foxtrot.
After a false start with a doppelganger, you incidentally tracked down Fang Foxtrot (who turned out to be Ashley Miller, one of your current allies) and dealt with one of the SHIFTers chasing you down.
You then found Gabriel Foxtrot down in an abandoned and wrecked candle shop. Well, an interdimensional space inside said candle shop, actually. You managed to drag him out of the shop after fighting through a horde of OCEP agents (a mysterious group you still know little about.)
Now? You're using your last bit of free time you'll have before the show starts to prepare for your best show yet.
ARCHIVE: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Cleaner
PASTEBINS:
MAIN CHARACTER SHEET: https://pastebin.com/3y638TfK
ALLIES: https://pastebin.com/8gdVZBPe
MECHANICS: https://pastebin.com/A9nLYWP6
INVENTORY: https://pastebin.com/n0MH6M17
CITY INFO: https://pastebin.com/ZP2JN7mT
CURRENT PARTY: https://pastebin.com/NeYKiyED
This will likely be the last Cleaner Quest thread. Don't worry, you'll get a satisfying enough ending. I just want to preface with that. 
Welcome to /qtg/, a place to talk about quests.
Previous thread
>>6181007
>What is a quest?
An interactive story in which a Quest Master (QM) writes and provides the readers with options on how to proceed — similar to a choose-your-own-adventure book or an old text adventure
Questionably Useful links:
>QTG discord: https://discord.gg/dZavHuK
>Skirmish discord: https://discord.com/invite/DZCVvVU
>Evo Game discord: https://discord.gg/v55Xaaja
>Old pastebin containing advice for QMs:
https://pastebin.com/Z78p8gXf
Badly in need of renovation.
>Archiving guide:
Go to http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/requestqstinterface.html
Fill out the request form to archive a thread.
Threads are also automatically archived by other websites, such as archived.moe.
>Formatting guide:
Only the thread's OP can format. Note that should the OP change ID, they will lose this ability as well.
Remove the spaces between the [] brackets and the letters:
Bold: [ b ] text [ /b ]
Italics: [ i ] text [ /i ]
Red: [ red ] text [ /red ]
Blue: [ blue ] text [ /blue ]
Green: [ green] text [ /green ]
>Formatting guide for everyone:
Dice (type this in “options”): dice + [no. of dice]d[no. of sides on the dice] (optionally you can add modifiers: dice + [no. of dice]d[no. of sides on the dice]+[modifier]; for a negative modifier type: +-[modifier]
Examples: dice+1d100 = a 1d100 roll, dice+1d100+10 = a 1d100 roll with a +10 modifier.
Spoiler: [ spoiler ]spoiler[ /spoiler ] or by pressing alt+s in-thread (doesn't work in OP)
>QM question:
Are there any special occasions you mark in your quests/traditions that you do? Even something like asking questions at the beginning/end of the thread or art for certain points in the story.
>Player question:
What would encourage you to make a fanwork (art/a side story) of a quest you like? Does /qst/'s nature as a 4chan board make you less inclined to? Have you ever made something for a quest you like before?
>General question:
What are you looking forward to for April Fools, the annual 4chan bit, something elsewhere, or gimmick quests? If you're answering this after April 1st, do you have any expectations for increased activity in the upcoming season(s)?
>Lurker question:
If you can make it to vote, vote! If not, when are you reading quests? Somewhere you can't easily post? Are you a phoneposter or simply a PC lurker?
>Miscellaneous question:
If you won the lottery tomorrow but you had to buy 4chan, how would you improve the /qst/ing experience? *drip* *drip*
You wake up with the rhythmic yet heavy drops of water falling on your parched lips
"Ugh where am i?", you ask yourself knowing full well you can't answer the question
As you sit up you feel a comforting moonlight blinding you for a moment under its ethereal gaze.
After coming to your senses you find yourself trapped in a chasm spanning who knows how far.
A feeling of dread washes over you, reaching into your ashy lab coats pockets you find a wrinkled letter as though written in a hurry, "Expieriment failed, code black, failed to select ideal dimension"
With nothing but your surroundings how will you survive? Beware there may be monsters, although similar to earth, this universe is... corrupted. 
The howling of villagers had pierced through the shambling woods.
With how upset they were, and their chasing, they might just as well have scared the noonday sun into dusk.
Crud! Those villagers did not have to punch your party an early ticket to Heaven.
Or Hell. You paid good money for your party. And getting chummy was not a part of their stipend.
You could only guess where their souls were laid after this mess.
At least they could have spared one maid... Another pair of fleeing hands and feet could have taken care of luggage duty… What you were able to grab with you before dashing.
Which was not a lot, really. There were the items on your person too, which still wasn’t a lot. Still. Still.
The clothes on your back, yellow crosses, a bell, your manual. But still—
Scratch that. Forget the manual.
Not when she had taken full custody of the thing. Good grief! It was just one problem after another.
After you had cut your pursuers loose and got your silken robe torn at the hem, she popped out of nowhere.
She pretended to hide her giggling, spying at the tattered inquisitor's gown flashing your hosiery-wrapped ankles. But boy, she was bad at it.
She couldn’t. Not with her obnoxious grin.
(cont.) 
Last time, you began the day with the idea of introducing your Bestie to your family and friends, then this all shaped into a different monster, and now you’re at Nariko’s former luxurious apartment trying to enjoy lunch together. One that you cooked.
You took the chance to reconnect with Chio — who pretended to be amnesic about the events of the Bubble — but due to a misunderstanding by Nariko, you’re in her room taking care of this sickly mother with her daughter. Yes, Chio’s excessive blushing made your OG hobo believe that she was feverish from overworking. It appears to happen often, but this is the first time Nariko has decided to put her foot down and force her mom to take a break.
“F-For the last time, I’m not sick, Nariko! Stop disobeying me!” Chio grumbles as she’s inside the bed.
“I’m sorry, Mother. The thermometer clearly stated your fever!” Nariko won’t relent. Going full-tomato gets you feverish? The more you know... “I’m no passive bystander any longer, you must rest!”
“Okay, here we go…” You arrive with the food on a tray, you had to go back to the kitchen to find one. “Still warm, I feel.” More like you’re praying… You didn’t do all of this for it to be cold!
“Thank you, Johnny!” Nariko appreciates you dearly. “My mother is overwhelmingly stubborn, I know with your presence she has no option but to behave.”
“I’m NOT stubborn.” Chio grits her teeth.
“Then prove it! Rest!” Nariko challenges. Chio is clearly not prepared to handle her daughter talking back.
“Or eat. Your food’s ready.” You wiggle your eyebrows like the one-note character you become after cooking.
“T-This is so upsetting...” Chio misses the happiness she felt a few minutes ago.
“Well, it doesn’t have to be. The others want to cheer you up.” You announce what Yu Yan, Crossbill, and Amelia want to do. “A happy patient is a healthy patient.”
“That doesn’t make a lick of sense.” Chio doesn’t want anyone here. Her is mouth watering a little...
“I have to concur...” Nariko clearly doesn’t like going against your idea, but she has to.
“It’s Yu Yan’s idea though. She watched a movie about a clown doctor curing people with laughter and/or witchcraft, then there’s a murder mystery at the end or something.” You quote Yu Yan word by word even though you didn’t pay much attention.
“If that’s something they believe will help, there’s no reason to decline.” Nariko thinks this through and comes out with the best conclusion.
“There are plenty of reasons.” Chio frowns.
“And we will use none of them…” You shrug.
The Objective is to cheer up Chio to cure her!
What do you do?
>Bring Amelia first.
>Bring Crossbill first.
>Bring Yu Yan first.
>Just ask Chio to eat her food again. That’ll “cure” her.
>Write In. 
In the land of Orrosta, the old gods are stirring once more. The wrath cycle, a never-ending war for control over the planet, starts anew. Drakkaru, (the god of dominion) thought to be dead by the other gods, is nearly free of the prison which has bound him for so long, and the Bellatists, (those who worship him), are gathering their strength. Cultists, full of hatred and malice, or perhaps simply stupidity, perform dark rituals of void, allowing for horrid creatures to escape their confinement. The horsemen of death and bloodshed ravage the land, leaving little but destruction. New elemental lords emerge, ready to consume the world. Yet, some good does stand. Mechaine (The god of machines, innovation and commerce), prepares the tin heads and men of iron, to strike out against the corruptive forces. Selene and the sons of Solantis work to uphold virtue and honor in the hearts of men. In this endless struggle, small forces can tip the balance. Can a ragtag group of adventurers discover the true nature of the world, and finally put an end to the wrath cycle?
This is a very loosely structured sandbox adventure, set in a world of my making. The sky is the limit for what can be done. If you wish to join, just give me a brief overview of your character, and we can work to make it in line with the lore of the world. I intend to properly start in roughly 3 days, so ensure you submit a character before then if you want to join. 
Gruq wake up.
Grug was sleep on fur and rock. Rock warm from fire. Fire now ember.
Light from sun outside light up inside of cave. Grug see tribe. Tribe still sleep. Light hit Grug Eyes. Grug lift up hand to block light. Grug see hand.
Grug is You! Joy! Grug take moment to appreciate life.
Grug take introspective look at life so far. Grug achieve much! But what Grug Do?
>Hunter
Grug strong like beast. Grug hunt and fight with club, spear, rock, bow, and more. Grug Kill to feed tribe. Grug protect tribe! Other say Grug dumb. But Grug say "Who care?"
>Gatherer
Grug sly, hardy. Grug know what fruit to eat, what grass makes feel good, what berry make feel good or bad. Grug know plant like hand. Other say Grug weak. They no say that when hungry.
>Crafter
Grug handy with tool, build and make things for tribe. Grug Cut hide, put up wall, knap flint. Grug make spear, pretty thing, and ropes. Other say Grug useless, without others. Grug know work important.
>Knowledge Keeper
Grug know things. Grug Smart. Track star and moon. Grug track herds and clouds. Grug Know when it rain, Grug Know when it stop. Grug say sky fire happen soon, it does. Grug keep record on wall, Like keepers before him.
>Barterer
Everyone think Grug nice, warm. Even beast and animal. When Elders meet with other tribes, Grug with them. Grug make trade with travelers. Everyone happy. Some people think Grug too trusting. But they think say that to Grug be mean.
>Mystic
Grug See Spirits of things, dead elders and trees and beast. Grug learn under shaman. To cast bones and see future, to shoot fire from hand and talk to beast. Grug not yet at that level of skill yet. Grug learning.
>Grug not fit any of these.
Grug life not this. Grug Something else.
>>[QM here, all these have potential to grow in power, and are not contained by just their little description. Have Fun, Good Luck!] You start in a grotto with and empty campfire with no fuel, there is a pot hanging on a spit. It is empty. There are 2 known paths from your spot. To the north, a desecrate mountain range. To the south a luscious swamp.
>You are carrying 3 things. {even, odd, even}
Your roll number in last 3 digits determine if what you say is true. IF it does not match Rice-King decides what you have. Clover City is in chaos in the aftermath of the Dread Corps attack. A perfect location for new supers to surface, be they heros or villains.
>The major powers in order of fame/infamy
>The Victory League: federally funded superheros, technically HQed in Clover City, but rarely involved in the cities affairs.
>The Victory Wards Clover City: a related yet distinct organization for minor heros (both literal children and weaklings) usually responsible for your average, day to day heroing
>The Flower Scouts: Magical girls, regular civilian concerns (read: school) prevent them from serving as full time heros
>The Super Sentai Seven: Garbed in power armor from another dimension, they face the same logistical issues as the Flower Scouts.
>Crawler's Crew: Gang/Mafia headed by a small, tight knit band of super villains. Unironically preferable to unorganized super villainy (see "Dread Corps")
Simply introduce your supers and we can get into it. You wake up one day and find an egg sitting against a wall in your room. What do you do? 
You are Drik. Two days ago, you were a dockhand in a riverside village with no name. Life was hard and painful, but somewhat fulfilling.
UNFORTUNATELY...
The Forces of Darkness demanded a tithe of men from your home. Since you don't have a wife or kids to account for, the mayor's thugs pressganged you and a handful of others first. Now, you have a TRACKING BRAND on your stomach, a SOLDIER'S COMMISSION that you can't read, and a spot on the frontlines of Dread Lord Angar Skullcrusher's army.
FORTUNATELY...
You stole a DAGGER from the docks and the mayor's thugs let you grab your HOOD from the dockhands' shared tent. Now, you can defend yourself from your enemies and the elements. You have one goal on your mind.
LOOTING!
If you can LOOT enough to gain 100 dread ducats, you can buy off your SOLDIER'S COMMISSION. The Forces of Darkness will disable your TRACKING BRAND and then you'll be a free man, once again. This is easier said than done.
You can't read. You have no combat skills. You are officially fodder for an invading army. On top of that, your commanding officer is a madman and there's no clear chain of supplies or strategic plan holding everything together.
You have your work cut out for you. 
The Saiyans are a race of planet conquering warriors reknowned for their ability in battle and their love of fighting. Their love is so strong that they spread across the cosmos in a never ending conquest of planets, serving the Frieza Force and their never ending conquest.
In this enviornment the weak are detested and put down upon. Most of them are thrown into menial support jobs, but as Frieza's grip grows stronger across the universe a new program has been established. More and more infants are instead sent across the stars to worlds weak enough for them to potentially conquer. His army already provides plenty more support so why have saiyans waste away in honor-less careers instead of being given one shot to prove their strength or die in honorable battle?
You are one of those Saiyan infants chosen for the task at hand. Your mind has already been subjected to basic education by electronic aids-to be further boosted in the Attack Ball you're loaded into and sent off to.
But just who is the soul sent off to space?
Name: [ ]
Gender: [Male/Female] 
WARNO WARNO WARNO
IDENT:80e74b16371a
TO: PRO-83216
FROM: [OOS-GYS-54]
SITUATION: In the wake of the destruction of UNSC Taskforce 36 and attached units in the vicinity of the system of Thompson, Insurrectionist activity has had a noted and sharp increase. An unregistered merchant tagged for tracking due to possible Insurrectionist ties has been detected multiple times by ONI watchers in-system, primarily in orbit of a small planetoid within a cluster of planetesimals at the cosmographic boundary of the Thompson system. It is believed that Insurrectionist elements rushed to exploit the UNSCs sudden absence from this region of space to establish a forward striking post on other UEG holdings within a 50 light year radius.
ATTACHMENTS/DETACHMENTS:
31st Special Missions Unit assigned to assist PRO-83216 is to be revived and made effective by 20 MAR 2549
2nd Shock Trooper Battalion ODST/SPF assigned to assist PRO-83216 is to be revived and made effective by 20 MAR 2549
Headhunter Team VACIVE assigned to PRO-83216 is to be revived and made effective by 20 MAR 2549
EARLIST TIME OF MOVEMENT: TO BE DETERMINED
NATURE AND TIME OF OPERATION: TO BE DETERMINED. Expect initial standard SSE and observational doctrine and tasks.
TIME/PLACE OF OPORD ISSUANCE: OPORD will be issued to PRO-83216 between 10-19 of MAR 2549. Briefing is to be issued by Commander Vislav at 0430 Thompson Standard Time, 20 MAR 2549. All Team Leadership is expected to attend.
ADMIN AND LOGISTICAL INFORMATION: UNSC QRFs in the vicinity of Thompson are unlikely to assist. Covenant units are still common in Thompson in the wake of the Glassing of Estuary. COLE PROTOCOL will likely need to be upheld regardless of observational results on suspected Planetoid. Prepare equip all squads with a basic load of combat equipment upon deployment. Usage of M441 Hornet Remote Explosive System is cleared. Usage of M947 SHIVA Nuclear Delivery System is cleared to the Commanders discretion.
No expected reinforcements. No expected Resupply.
WARNO WARNO WARNO
First quest in 4 years, so have mercy on my wretched soul. Expect OPORD and character introductions 12 hours from now. >Out of desperation to save his kingdom, the Mouse King offers you his daughter in marriage
How do you politely turn down the request and explain that such an offer is of no value to a human in a Lawful Good Paladin-esque way? 
What follows a golden age is sometimes simplicity. Men realigned to their baser instincts. The weak and timid cowed before the mighty. All concerns reduced to the primitive: a meal, a mate, a hovel to take shelter from the storm or from the monsters in the wood.
Most will die not a hundred yards from where they were born, among those they've known their entire lives.
For a rare few, however, that simplicity and leveling of fortune, presents opportunity. Not quite yet mighty, they are willing to chance everything, endure anything, and forbid nothing, in order to taste power.
You count yourself among their ranks.
>Choose Background
[ ] Woodsman: Your old man was a bit of a loner and raised you in a remote cabin in the woods he built with his own two hands. You're bit a awkward around other people, but about as tough as they come.
[ ] Outlaw: You've been in and out of dungeons, gaols, stocks, and cages, since you were a boy. Your instinct for survival is almost supernatural, second only to your knack for getting into trouble.
[ ] Cultist: You were adopted by a secret cult as a young boy, and raised communally as an initiate into their order. When you came of age, rather than take on a comfortable position befitting your education, you left to pursue the higher mysteries. 
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.
Having clawed her way back from the parallel plane stronger and more spiteful than ever, Atë finds herself (literally) of two minds, having split her consciousness in half in order to accomplish multiple tasks at once. One side of her, inhabiting her true body, finds herself waging war against the Penitent once again, too affected by the memories of her alternate self to focus properly without clearing her head. The other side attempts to dig up her own past, reopening old wounds in order to tap into the wrath pouring from her own bleeding soul.
>Past Threads
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Olympus+Incarnation+Quest
>Rentry masterlink, includes character sheets, shop information, inventory, and general information
https://rentry.org/olympus-quest-links
>Inquiries: [email protected] 
"Boss! Hey boss!" squawks your familiar, a raven named Crow. He flutters onto your shoulder, bearing word of your surroundings. "Boss, I've been flying all around up and down and... I don't think we're in the Heartlands anymore."
"You don't say."
You came to that conclusion an hour ago, when you felt the sheer chaos in the magics of this land. In many ways it felt like a mana desert, an arid waste without a single drop of ambient mana for the gifted to take advantage of. Yet coursing through the sands ran a mighty and untamed river, which carved a craggy canyon so steep that the paths to power could only be traversed through great wisdom, unsavory methods, or the nepotism of a sorcerous bloodline. In comparison, the Heartlands was a fertile river valley with a well structured system of dykes, dams, and irrigation that tamed floodwaters and kept the land green and well supplied with a steady flow of magic.
Not to mention the heat and humidity. It reminds you of that one dreadful trip you took to the Northlands to visit an underworld observatory. They only had two seasons up there: rainy, and dry, and neither are particularly pleasant.
Of course, you already puzzled out how to lower the metaphorical bucket and draw water from the river raging at the bottom of the canyon. You did not graduated first in your class in Arcane Sciences from the University of Our Northern Lady without reason; rough metaphysical topography like this is simply an inconvenience, like filling out paperwork to renew your carriage registration every year. With a twitch of your fingers, you conjure a cracker from nothing and reward Crow for his hard work.
"Yeah boss, it's wild," Crow chirps between bites. "I mean, how much mana'd you put into that timespace experiment, anyways? We're all the way in the tropics! Or damn close anyways, with all this heat and humidity. It's awful for the plumage."
"Yes, I'm sure it is." You console him with another cracker, that he greedily devours. "We calibrated the equipment for 7.16 millithaums... even allowing for a 1% deviation across all parameters, it shouldn't have put us more than 13 miles off target."
"Well, the jungle says otherwise, boss," Crow points out.
"I noticed."
Using the loamy soil as parchment and a stick as your pen, you write out the equations governing the folds of space that describe Tindalosian Motion through timespace. Provided that the Hewart Constant for the magnitude of metaphysical weight's effect on Tindalosian motion remained equal to 1, your experiment should have resulted in a jump of no more than 128 miles, plus or minus 10% based on the allowance for a 1% deviation in the equipment's calibration. Which leaves you with a number of possibilities to consider.
The equipment calibration was outside of allowed deviation. Unlikely considering the standards that Northern Lady's Arcane Sciences Department holds itself to, but possible. Hello fellow /qst/ers, I've come to entertain you all with an actual, honest to god, non-abandoned CIV thread. This one is some fresh OC, hot and out of the oven. This CIV will be using Conquest of Elysium's combat engine to resolve battles. Diplomacy, research, and other non-combat actions will be handled by me, but voted upon by players.
Game will start later in the day (3/9/25) around 6 PM EST. Depending on how much fun we're having, I can go daily. Chapter 2; Thirsting Gods
In the far future, we boldly go.
Gone are the times scarcity, gone are poverty, to be a man in these times is to be one of billions valued and cherished.
For over a century the Federation have united several species, several worlds, in the name of mutual respect, defense, and progress.
In ignorance and bliss these people had lived their lives, deaf to those who wish to consume them into their whole, deaf to those who wish for them to fall under their jackboot.
Soon, even the deaf shall hear the laughter of thirsting gods.
Discord; https://discord.gg/Hv7uYCyk
Previous Chapter; https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6176043/
Glory; 3.
1/5(?) 
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 
Last time, you went to sleep. On your couch. For no reason. No reason at all…
It’s the 2nd of July, Sunday, you might have the day’s number mixed up, but you’re pretty sure it’s the end of the weekend. And what a weekend it was! You did so many things that it’s impossible to write them down without sounding like you’re bragging. So, you’re not going to try! Instead, you will wonder how you found yourself in your bed. You were on the couch. What happened? Was it all a dream? Of course, it wasn’t. But after falling asleep, someone must’ve moved you here and moved *someone else* from here. You’ll blame your Bestie for both. She’s nowhere to be found.
You step out of your room to find the Criminal back at the scene of the crime. Crossbill has made your couch home, legs crossed watching TV, with a cup of coffee in hand…
She notices you and tilts her head back. She smiles.
“Mornin’, Bestie. Breakfast is over there!” Crossbill points at the table and winks. Just toast and coffee for you. “We gotta start workin’ on our little heist as soon as we can.”
“I didn’t know Crossbills were early birds.” You raise an eyebrow as you make your way to the table.
“Aren’t all birds ‘early birds’?” Crossbill gets sassy.
“Not sure if a dodo was one.” You think Matilda would hate them.
“Those are extinct, Knockout. And for good reasons.” Crossbill deadpans.
“Good reasons? Evolution means that you thrive in your environment, not that you’re the superior species. A koala would probably thrive in this country, but that doesn’t make it *the* apex predator.” You point out. Unless it’s a Drop Bear, those are fierce!
“Johnny, we have animals taller than half of the buildings in this city. Koalas are screwed!” Crossbill argues.
“You don’t know that.” You act offended.
“I know that, Knockout, I led the Environmental Council in Congress. One escaped the zoo, and we got a presentation.” Crossbill crosses her arms, all smug.
“But they’re crafty animals!” You believe despite your Knowledge’s protests.
“Do you have any idea what a Koala is?” Crossbill is scared.
“Sorry, my sister is a Propaganda Machine for bears…” You blame Amelia.
“They’re not bears.” Crossbill corrects you.
“B-But they’re called Koala Bears!” You can’t believe this.
“Doesn’t make them bears.” Crossbill shakes her head.
“Even the murderous Drop Bear?” Your Knowledge forces you to shatter all your dreams.
“Those are a myth to scare tourists, Knockout. There are no killer koalas.” Crossbill continues shaking her head.
“Damn, this is some heavy stuff…” You munch your toast as you live in a new reality, one where the only way the Drop Bear exists is as an entity.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Crossbill continues shaking her head. “Wait, you have a sister? I forgot you mentioned her.”
“A *liar* sister.” You correct.
“Sure she is.” Crossbill will hate her too. What a bestie! “Ready for the first step?” 
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 
Before the rise of Gol D. Roger, adventurers, common folk, and pirates alike set sail for the West Blue Sea. A gold rush had been called, the isles beckoning with wealth. A great wave of people settled into the West Blue.
You are one of those people. You are Mint E. Julep, named after your father's favorite mixed drink. You were barely a toddler when you traveled to the West with your mother and father.
Your home isle of Azure Springs has become a ghost town after the gold dried up. But you still had to pay off the debt to the Rubyport Trading Company for bringing you and your family to the West Blue.
Your mother died working in the mines, and your father skipped town, abandoning you. You've worked years to finish the agreed upon debt your whole family accrued, under the Company viceroy who owns Azure Springs.
But those years are nearly over as you reach womanhood. It's been hard here in Azure Springs, yet you look back on the good times you had growing up and those people who helped out along the way…
What is your dream (and who inspired it)?
>A) Become a notorious pirate! (Medusa Z. Gorgo)
>B) Become the queen of the merchants! (Luna B. Goode)
>C) Become a Marine Admiral! (Vice Admiral Highwaystar)
>D) Become the greatest… swordsman, cook, archaeologist, gunslinger… Write-in! (Your mother, Mint E. Sprig) 
Another step was taken forward.
And you find yourself deep underwater. But there is no need to worry about breathing air, or other normal things such as swimming and being wet. No, instead you are flying.
It is a beautiful freedom, but something seemed to be missing...
A car's horn made you smile. That's right, your taxi! You find yourself driving it out of the ocean with the grace of a dolphin.
It was spotless, clean, and, most importantly, it was scratchless.
That taxi was one of the last reminders of your life before it all went dark. You've been calling yourself Johan for a while now.
Life wasn't too bad-- terrible mass tragedies of fire and horrifying shadowy creatures that wish you harm notwithstanding. Friends were being made, new places were being seen, wonderful food was being eaten, and there was even a girl you became close to:
You just came back from having a date with a mime named Mimi, with the last thing you remember being how you helped a bald, mustached giant of a bartender of a man fight against the shadows that seeped through the walls and escaping a twisting labyrinth in a restaurant's basement by hiding under a blanket. You think you saved a cowboy's life too.
Either way, none of that stopped you from flooring it.
Or so you thought.
No matter how hard you pushed the pedal, your vehicle still went the same speed. Well, it wasn't as though you were sure, considering the place was a black void with your taxi driving on the ocean.
You feel a slight sensation of ennui creep up on you.
Was this a nightmare?
"No," you said aloud "this is no nightmare. I'm dreaming.
Again.
A light could be seen in the distance, slowly growing larger and larger as you approached it in your yellow taxicab.
And as you come closer, a familiar sight envelops you.
Where were you?
>Back at home. Dad was reading you the newspaper and mom was making pancakes!
>At a classmate's birthday party. You had both just graduated highschool.
>Eating and critiquing some meals with an old friend.
>In an alleyway, trying to call for help with your trusty company-mandated cellphone.
>In the ocean again. You jumped out of the taxi before the light could envelop you, and now you're sinking in the waters. 
You are Kyle Mercer. 23 years hellbound. Killer, loving brother, blood enthusiast, all around bad news. You're pretty used to being the most dangerous person in the room at any given time. Right now is a notable exception.
The nightmare thing smashing its way out of the Black Room in Valerie Hedgepeth's basement is, what they call in the industry: a problem.
"Nemesis!"
Black, icy water sloshes around your boots, steadily filling the basement. You feel a cold shiver run through you, mirroring the frigid, ethereal wind blowing form beyond the Veil. Not good.
XXX
Nemesis Quest follows a bad man doing bad things for bad reasons.
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=NEMESIS+Quest
I aim to update twice a day around 5:00 PM UTC and 1:00 AM UTC. I will update more often if there's a clear consensus or I have the time.
Notes:
Surprising no one, I'm a fucking retard. Kyle is not 25, Kyle is 23. Candi is 24. Oops.
I literally spent a week agonizing about power balancing/power scaling and shit but fuck it. I'm God. QM Fiat.
XXX
You're powerful. Beyond strong, beyond tough, you're someone's worst fucking nightmare. With Valerie and her daughter's blood added to your menagerie of souls you feel the hunger within you deepen, dropping out like the sea floor. Like a turbocharged engine you're going to need to fuel the killing machine you've become. Every kill won't necessarily grant you new powers, but if you abstain for too long you'll find yourself running on empty.
POWERS
>What Doesn't Kill You (Sally)
Serious wounds don't stop you.
>Make Them Disappear (Mall Hobo)
You leave no forensics.
>Behind the Veil (Lasker City Hooker)
See the Veil.
>You Should be Dancing (Rupert)
The power of suggestion.
>Speak of the Devil (Valerie Hedgepeth)
Appear where they least expect.
>Make them forget (Valerie's Daughter)
You are hard to identify. 
You are Noel Tiberius, the reigning warrior-queen of Hazaran. This is very much not Hazaran.
The community you have found yourself in is one small part of the main continent, far enough from your homeland that its existence could be hidden from you for centuries. Five half-blooded warriors like yourself have come here with you as a show of strength and solidarity, along with eight Hazari infantrymen as a token ‘honor guard’. There can be no doubt as to your status, since even on the continent nobody seems to wear crowns set with almond-sized precious gems aside from you. And none carry any visible weaponry, let alone swords nearly as long as they are tall.
That’s probably one reason why when Leto Aristo, mayor of the port town of Kirkines – where you’ve found yourselves – listened to you when you politely insisted that he take you to his leader. He quite simply doesn’t know what to make of you even after you explained who you are. Almost everything about you must be absolutely foreign to his worldview, and so instead of trying to figure you out for himself, he’s chosen to hand off responsibility for whatever you turn out to be.
“At least the food is nice,” Aurora muses, nibbling at one of a few dozen identical baked crackers, topped with thin slices of firm white cheese and what seems to be a jam made from fig. “Very tasty.”
With a little bit of spice added, even your mother seems to appreciate the gesture, and washes her light snack down with an incredibly clear ruby-red wine. “It seems the production methods are quite different here.”
True, the crackers in particular point to mass production of such specialty foods. Where you come from fine bakeries can aspire to some uniformity, but this goes a clear step further than that. The men – and two women – also seemed to appreciate being brought something to eat despite being relegated to sitting outside the room where you and your fellow warriors will be meeting with a figure standing above Leto Aristo in continental politics.
That man soon makes his appearance. His clothing is very much like the three-piece jacket and waistcoat combination which seems to be the norm for men in this community, albeit more finely tailored and with buttons made with fine horn rather than some obviously fake imitation. You rise from your seat to greet him, make a little gesture to prompt Salem to do the same as the last straggler, then just as quickly return to your seat.
“So, mayor Aristo tells me you’re claiming to be some sort of queen,” the man in the nice suit muses, walking to a seat opposite from you across a low table. He produces a pipe from a pocket in his coat before setting the jacket over the back of the stuffed chair and taking a seat. “May I hear your introduction for myself, please?”
>1/2 
You are Uzumaki Naori, and first and foremost you are the great sage of the Shrike clan with all the myriad responsibilities that involves. Second, and most importantly to you on a personal level, you are a spouse and a parent to two young shinobi to whom to intend to entrust the world one day. Third, you are the chosen leader of Amegakure – the village where your own parents once lived, where you grew up, and where you met and trained with your mentors. Considering yourself to be a “human” in addition to this list of qualities was never something you felt necessary, despite the outlandishness of your power.
After today, you may need to rethink that position.
Several years ago you encountered Ōtsutsuki Kaguya, a being of immense power who despite not truly being a “god” comes as close to deserving the title as any living being you’re aware of. She is the source of all humanity’s ability to use chakra, and once was alternately worshiped as a goddess and feared as a demon-princess. Before being sealed into the second moon which now hangs in the sky, you know that Kaguya-hime did something to you. She left you with a gift of sorts, in the form of an eye whose function is to streamline the result of a lifetime of chance encounters and several lifetimes of eugenics.
Your ‘jōgan’ does a few things, in practical day to day terms. Of course it lets you see things in ways normal people can’t, and precision details far beyond the human norm are just the start. You can see into the infrared spectrum – in essence, ‘heat vision’ – and even into the ultraviolet spectrum like birds and butterflies. While most shinobi can sense chakra to at least some extent, you can actually visualize it at a level of precision and detail that would let you use the Hyūga clan’s ‘gentle fist’ technique if you had a reason to. And much like what Kaguya-hime could do, you’re able to use your jōgan to release chakra in destructive pulses of pure force.
But Kaguya-hime’s spirit, for lack of a better word to call what you spoke with at the climax of the last great Shinobi World War, had to make a few tweaks to get that jōgan to work for you. You always thought she was changing the genetics of the eye, but it seems now that you were mistaken. Instead, it’s started to seem as if she changed the genetic structure of your own body to allow for you to use the eye, which has had some knock-on effects.
“Well,” Eida, an ‘experiment’ conducted by the man who sounds like the brains behind the terrorist organization Kara, muses. “It’s hardly my business.
She couldn’t be more wrong. Her hypnotic ability is something that needs to be addressed sooner or later, so in any event she’s kidding herself if she thinks you’re just gonna wander off.
“I’m not sure that’s true,” you observe, in light of your recent realizations. In fact, it would be more accurate to say you’re sure it isn’t true.
“… is that so?”
>1/2 
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 avoid getting kidnapped by the Wind Court.
When you stepped outside, you were half-expecting a lurking Lucky and a net over your head. Or a pitfall trap. Instead there's nothing: dark empty water and the Fen in the distance. And Gil, of course. You made him go out first.
He's eying you like he expects a scolding. "They really were here..."
"I believe you," you say. (Unlike Richard, Gil doesn't lie.) "It's been a while, hasn't it? They probably finished talking. We should go find Monty, so he can tell us what—"
"Are you sure he isn't i-in on it?"
"Monty?" Monty wouldn't conspire to kidnap you, surely. Even though you did expose his spooky past and be mean about it. And even though he did also conspire to steal the Crown. Positive thinking. "Didn't you say he looked mad? He wouldn't look mad if he were in on it, so, um, yeah. And if he is in on it, I'll just escape, so it's no big deal. Plus you'll be there. Right?"
Gil nods unconvincingly.
"Right! Well— he probably wouldn't go back to Game Night if he got really mad, or else he might strangle somebody. So he's probably in his tent. Let's go!"
You point the way, though your verbal enthusiasm is belied by your slow walking pace. Do you actually want to go talk to Monty right now? Do you actually want to escape from and/or defeat the Wind Court? You want to go to bed. You're not going to keel over or anything— your heroic spirit prevents it— but you're not exactly in peak condition, either.
>[ID: 6/15]
Still, you're buoyed by the sight of a light on in Monty's tent. You haven't lost your detectivess skills, even if they didn't work so well with... um... um, positive thinking. It wasn't your fault. A detectivess is only as good as her evidence, and you had a certain somebody wiping it all away.
But it's fine! You're not thinking about that right now. You're peeking into the tent, just in case Lucky's waiting inside, but it's only Monty. He's in his chair. His legs are up on his desk. He appears lost in thought.
Should you barge in? Not if you want him to explain things to you, probably. And it might be sort of rude, now that you're thinking about it. Your Aunt Ruby would never sanction barging in on people. You exchange glances with Gil, then knock on the tent post.
Inside the tent, Monty presses his thumbs into his eyes, then stands and shuffles over to the door. You withdraw hastily as he opens it, his face clouding when he sees you. "...You're up."
"Hello to you too," you grouse.
"...Yes. Er, hello, Charlotte. Hello, Gil." Monty has taken his sweater off. Was he about to go to bed? You suppose you're glad he has any shirt on. "Was there something you needed?"
(1/5) 
And there came a day unlike any other... When Earth's mightiest heroes found themselves united against a common threat...
On that day, they became... The Avengers!
Welcome back to Avengers Quest, true believers!
This is but one of many realities where the group known as The Avengers is formed... But definitely not the one you might be familiar with. The team's fate, and perhaps the entire world's fate, depend on your collective choices!
This is a quest where you will give commands to a character, but with multiple player characters: You can ONLY select commands for ONE character in your post until the next QM post, which is a new "turn".
Nobody "owns" any of the player characters, anybody can play them until the next "turn", but always only one per post. You can change your decision before the QM post if you change your mind. You can give commands to any of the available characters even if someone else has as long as you remember to choose only one. Ties are simply decided by what I think would be most interesting so try to avoid them.
Make sure to write which character you are choosing for in your post.
Last time, in Avengers Quest, Loki attempted to trick the heroes of Earth into fighting each other while he brainwashed Dr. Henry Pym into opening a portal so he could launch a full on invasion, but Thor, Captain America, Iron Man, The Wasp and Moon Knight came together to stop his scheme, but Thor and Dr. Pym were lost to the portal to places unknown.
To prevent similar crises from happening, they teamed up to form THE AVENGERS.
But now, a new threat has risen, and in this issue they will face an extremely dangerous adventure... As they fall... "Under the Death Grip of... KLAW!"
...Some time has passed since the night where New York was invaded by shadowy monsters from beyond, and The Avengers came together to save it... Pym Labs, the source of the invasion and the place hit the hardest by it, is still under reconstruction... And new management.
We find our heroes gathered once more, leading the reconstruction effort, unaware of the incoming bad news...!
The middle of the day at Avengers Labs was as quiet as it can be with these people: Tony Stark funds most of the repair work while Janet Van Dyne makes sure everything is in order, in particular anything relating to the lab, where Mjolnir still remains, unmovable.
And Captain America? He sits in wait for his next mission, time away from the battlefield was always good but he was still not used to it, and seeing Tony Stark check his schedule on his phone (another strange artifact from the future that the good ol' captain struggles to understand!) only made him feel all the more alienated.
"You know I really appreciate all that you're doing for this... But is the logo final?" He says, trying to make some small talk. "Eh, it's a work in progress. Jan will probably whip up a better one soon." Replies Stark with a nonchalant attitude typical of him... 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 boy Joe Apple of Patina. >Previous Thread
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6171943/
>Previously, on Alola Quest, the author of this quest has a job that requires him to go innawoods for like 5 days out of the week where he barely has any signal but it pays too well and the job economy sucks where he lives so he is stuck...
>Also Amon, the young homeless protagonist is in the middle of a battle against Totem Ribombee and her Pelipper pal. But things are about to take a downward turn...
The rain is getting weaker but before it goes out altogether Pelipper goes all out and shoots out one last Hurricane! A massive cyclone hits Foongus! Foongus is blown back and lands with a thud. Poor Foongus faints. But he did not go in vain. Now both Totem Ribombee and Pelipper are paralyzed. But you are down 2 Pokemon.
>Marill, Darmanitan, Castform, and a Croagunk on it's last legs. How we going down? 
Given the recent infestation of civilization threads, I've decided to contribute to the problem- with a twist! Rather than starting a fledgling civilization, you'll be taking the reigns of one in a post apocalypse that will be elaborated on later.
Choose a race!
>Undead (Unable to naturally reproduce; and comprised of many species, your people remember decaying knowledge of the world before. Begin with a crumbling necropolis and a senile Lich King.)
>Elemental (Living magic constructs that reproduce by bringing inanimate objects to life, most commonly found around mana pools that fuel their magic. Begin with the remains of a wizard's tower and whatever tomes survived.)
>Shroomling (Sentient mushrooms that reproduce through division and unconsciously spreading spores throughout the landscape, extremely short lifespans encourage rapid development and poor record keeping. Begin with a fully-functional village surrounded by forest, but no knowledge of the world before.)
>Molemen (Hardy subterranean mole creatures with a weakness to light that reproduce quickly. Larger populations live in elaborate carved caverns. Reliant on nocturnal scavenging and stealing from rival burrows, knowledge and technology is scattered among the isolated groups. Begin with a mountain compound and some knowledge of the world before .)
World details will be given later dependant on player choices; all locations and races can be encountered regardless of player choice. First to three wins! OH SHIT NIGGA. You are lady Firemane. Of the (formerly) noble house of Fireborn! You were once the greatest wagon racer this side of the kingdom. Sadly due to shenanigans, you lost everything and went into debt with the Adventurer's Guild in order to survive. But then you found the Inexperienced Hero, Ezekiel "Kid" Rutebega ! You took him under your wing to mold him into the hero he's always meant to be: your devoted apprentice (probably)
Ezekiel's older brother has started his campaign of destruction, he leads his hordes of undead barbarians to ravage the lands. As members of the guild, your party has went on the quest chain to stop said undead barbarian horde.
You are currently on the way to stop Ezekiel's brother from putting another barbarian horde under his control, and definitely did not encounter some weird shenanigans.
Yes. 
You are the Cabinet of the United States, picked by the newly elected President. With a sweeping new mandate to reform the government and bring the United States Back on Track, The President has decided to give more authority and power to The Cabinet, to prove his commitment to decisive reform and maintaining the democratic principles of this great country. For too long has power been invested in the executive, the responsibility of leadership placed on the shoulders of one man; now it’s time for the democratic will of the people to make itself heard!
Hello and welcome to the Departmental Quest, a multiplayer quest where (you) play as members of the Cabinet of the United States, leading one of its many powerful departments in the administration of me, The President. In this quest (you) can shape the direction of American policy; forge a new path, make it great again, feud among yourselves, or focus on whatever you want. I’ve built this quest with a lot of player freedom in mind, so it’s up to you what you want to do with the powers and responsibilities The President has granted you. Good luck.
Once you’ve read the rules, please pick your cabinet position:
THE CABINET
>Vice President - Veto and voting power, in addition to the writing of executive orders (which the President must sign off on)
>Secretary of Defense (Department of Defense, DoD)
>Secretary of State (Department of State, DOS)
>Secretary of the Treasury (Department of Treasury, USDT)
>Secretary of Health and Human Services (Department of Health and Human Services, HHS)
>Secretary of Homeland Security (Department of Homeland Security, DHS)
>Attorney-General (Department of Justice (DoJ)
>Secretary of Energy (Department of Energy, DOE)
>Secretary of Education (Department of Education)
>Secretary of Labor (Department of Labor, DOL)
>Secretary of Agriculture and the Interior (Department of Agriculture and the Interior, DAI)
In case of simultaneous picking, the two (or more) anons will roll for the position. Losers have to pick a new one.
If you have any questions, about the rules or the details of your role, please ask and I’ll do my best to answer them.
Any vacant positions will operate at a reduced level in the background, but if new up and coming candidates are found they may pick from the vacant spots.
If all cabinet positions are filled and there are still cabinet hopefuls, more positions will be made available.
Alternatively, you may petition the President for control of an existing department or organisation not within this list, subject to Presidential Veto. 
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!
But that, is for later. Every hero has to start somewhere.
- - - -
You have contemplated you life, and found it lacking. Nothing is going overly wrong, your future is looking decent, probably could line up a decently paying job in a few years if you made the effort.
But for what? What drives you? What fulfills you? Would simply having more be better when the quantity is not the source of your unhappiness?
No.
You hate your life, not for the extent of it’s misery, but for it’s rotting mediocre stagnation.
If you do not value what you have, discarding it should not be a problem. It still strung a bit, now it doesn’t.
So you are on your way, looking for fulfillment. All you found so far was discarded options
Your current search has led you to stand in front of a seedy club downtown. A sign above it glows a soft neon, presenting the letters G A M M A. Weird name. You don’t know if answers lies inside, but you do know that you never tried a place like this before.
How do you get in? Where does your confidence lie?
>They look like they check IDs at the front, but a good amount of junkies are smoking, every few minutes, a group goes in. The bouncer doesn’t look like much of anything either. Maybe you could blend in. (Social Stealth, establishes Instinct)
>There is an alley next to the club. You saw some snake finish her smoke break and use the door. You bet they do it often enough to not bother locking it. (Breaking and Entering, establishes Finesse)
>There is a balcony on the other side, it’s pretty cold, looks empty. Got a rainwater pipe right next to it, easy climb. (Urban Parkour, establishes Athletics)
(1/2) 
DATING START! (Psychopomp GOLD OST - 05 Unborn Structures) https://youtu.be/LpSdHoaEQac
Misfortune has struck, and you've been dragged down to Hell.
You have no idea as to how long you have been trapped in this place. All you can tell is that the screaming is quieter this far out. And somehow, inexplicably, you feel... safe? Yes, safe. For the first time in a very long time.
But you soon find out that you are not alone.
The bowl in front of you is filled to the rim with blood, bright red and lukewarm. A long wooden spoon soaks in the spilled vitality.
On the other side of the table, something smiles down at you, beaming with great expectation. You can hear nothing but the deep, ragged breathing of the thing. And then, with a rasping voice like rusting metal:
"Well? Aren't you going to tell me how it tastes?"
Please recommend an action.
>WAIT.
>ATTACK.
>DRINK.
>WHAT ARE YOU?
>WHAT IS THIS PLACE?
>
==============================================
[LIBIDO: 5/10]
[???: ?/?]
Different values open up new choices.
Different choices lead to different results.
Do keep in mind that stories where blood is shed mostly end in death.
<3
A rip off of ObserverQM's lovely LOVE QUEST. 
Long-coming Return 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) The world is shadowed in misery. The two dark humors that rule mankind are Fear and Hunger. Journey with us, guide your weary body through the winds and chattering teeth of the dungeons, lose yourself to the macabre, you dancer of shadows. “…I think I killed her…”
You will never forget that moment. Her body is laying right next to you, as the blood slowly drips on the snow. You clearly see the face of a murderer. He is right in front of you, still haven't holstered the revolver. You want to take out your pistol and shoot the entire magazine at him. But you just start walking towards him instead. He doesn’t try to shoot you or resist in anyway. He is waiting for you to say something.
“I-”
It’s the only thing that manages to come out of his mouth before you punch him in the face so hard, he falls down to the ground, dropping the revolver. The rest of your squad, that was witnessing the scene starts running towards you. You start kicking him while he is on the ground, but it wont bring her back. Your squadmates arrive and drag you away from him, and you don’t resist. You simply shout:
“I’ll fucking kill you! You are a dead man! Dead!”
And your voice echoes in the distance 
It has been three months since you and your wife finally escaped that astral prison. In the material world centuries have passed and the world is in quite a state, but you've been admittedly slow to realize this, as you've both been extremely busy having sex. Nothing unusual about that - just making up for lost time.
And when not making love to your wife, you were engaging in violence. Sometimes to earn the money to pay for the fine food and drinks you were also enjoting, and to replace the fine beds you were ruining, and sometimes to punish men who dared covet your wife because of her radiant beauty. But also because societal norms have taken a massive backslide since that demon war you keep seeing monuments to. Apparently these days people will look at two elven women traveling together and consider them "easy prey".
Nevertheless, excess repetition can make even the most exciting of acts grow tired and dull. With your mutual passions on the wane, you rolled out of bed one morning, slapped your wife's glorious ass, and let her know that it's time to start making your mark on the world again. And she turned toward you with a lazy smile and let you know that she was able to sense the presence of something you assumed lost to time's passage - your wedding gift to her.
And so, following the thread of her magic, you journeyed north, to a corrupted, barren land that hosted the last and most powerful of the demon cults that have sprung up during and after the war. A cult that was finally facing its demise as a coalition of five kingdoms, three religious orders, and at least one dragon was marching upon its great fortress city hidden deep in a barren mountain range.
But armies are slow, cumbersome things and so you caught up quickly. You watched it march. Remarked upon the myriad strands of Fate circling above it - a telltale sign of a divine game reaching its conclusion. Promising valor and tragedy in equal measure. And the birth of a new Hero - or so your wife claims after studying the strands for a time. Which you don't doubt, as she is far more knowledgeable in those things than you.
But the contempt you feel toward the divinities that make mortals their playthings aside, it is of no concern, for even before your imprisonment, you've both reached Second Enlightenment and both chose to sever yourselves from Fate. So the plan is simple: you will retrieve your wife's property from the fortress and leave. So all that's left is to decide on how you will enter:
>You would join the army right before the assault, disguised as one of the many mercenaries that tagged along. The disguises you devised are impeccable!
>With the demon worshippers distracted by the assault, you'd slip in through the secret passage over on the other side of the mountain. Because what cultist fortress wouldn't have one?
>Why overcomplicate things? You'd show up at the fortress a week before the army arrived, walk up and kick in the gate. They'd never expect that. Ilvermory Quest Returns!
Last time you went to class high and coked up! Got bitten by corn with teeth! Realized that something was underneath the huge tree out by the gates, even if it wasn't the wand of Salazar Slytherin! Gave PTSD to a few jerks. Got yelled at by a tiny girl with autism! Helped protect the campus after you may have fucked up some of it's protections! Saved a fairly handsome boy and kept your newest little sister from getting herself killed! Shot guns and kind of sucked!
Now time to head to your sister's Quidditch try-outs and hopefully not die before the weekend!
All here in Ilvermorny Quest!
Updated character sheet: https://rentry.co/rsrnm8dc
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=ilvermorny
Non-canon lewd-fic: https://rentry.co/4iehi5w8
I will post edited versions of the last treads too but I keep finding little mistakes going through them. 
IN A WORLD SIMILAR BUT NOT OF OUR OWN: it is the year 1899. Confederacies and petty principalities consolidate themselves in imperial nation states across the global edifice. Empiricism and occultism espouse each other out of the light of The Enlightenment, blurring the line between college and cult. The fabric of society shifts from the manor to the metropolis; the second industrial boom acquaints man with machine for better or for worse. Much like ours, history has transpired in this eerily familiar realm. YET: it is lacks one thing every waking world needs!
A HERO.
Chivalry is dead! Its vestiges remain in the grand armies; an officer's gorget calls back to romantic times. Thousands of modern men's rear sights are recently unblinded by the advent of smokeless firepower, cartridges punching lead through deadly rifling. Outstanding is the craftiness of humanity! The sword shrunk into the bayonet at the tip of martial ranks. And paramors are no more! Only the réal urban femme! Despite the tides of warfare and paradigm the world world still needs—
—A KNIGHT——
—A LIGHT: for a world subdued by smoke, steam, and steel; and alien forces. For a world under the duress of war. For a world at ransom by the erecting of strange companies. For a world captive by wicked spirits. FOR. A. WORLD. IN. DESPAIR.
The world needs HOPE; and someone to keep it as ranger! A suzerain's hunting forest is not without its forester; if none, poachers deplete the game and brings a scourge upon the plot; if so, The Suzerain is assured his enjoyment of such beautiful land!
And that is YOU.
For a world that will be depending on you—Pray, tell:
WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE A MAN? TO BE A SON OF ADAM?
>T R U T H: TELL THE TRUTH AND SHAME THE DEVIL. FIND LIGHT WITHIN DARKNESS.
>R E S P O N S I B I L I T Y: TO TOIL AMONGST THISTLES AND THORNS IS A DUTY.
>S T R E N G T H: THE WORLD HATED YOU FIRST; BUT YOU WILL WIELD THE PALM.
>W R I T E - I N
During the dawn of prehistory a creator now forgotten by the masses laid down his bow; his arrow that which was nocked put an end to our antediluvian ancestors. For a world That. Needs. A. Hero—The people will know you by your LIVERY. YOUR:
>HEROIC RED!
>RAPPORTING BLUE!
>UNYIELDING YELLOW!
>CUNNING GREEN!
{THE PLURAL VOTE OF EACH OPTION WILL BE TAKEN. } 
~ NOVEMBER 5 2008 ~
Your name is Aspen Foster. For a good portion of your adult life, you have been working within the political scene of the most beautiful state in the union, Colorado. Nobody outside of the state knew you very well, but you had become a familiar face for those who pay attention to your state’s politics.
You are as moderate as they come. Your policies are nothing revolutionary. Nobody is your die-hard supporter and nobody has a seething anger towards you. You are a milquetoast, inoffensive liberal who is perfectly content with staying out of the spotlight and passing completely average and expected laws.
You successfully ran for the Denver city council in 1995. You were elected mayor of that same city in 1999. After losing re-election in 2003, you decided to run for the Colorado House of Representatives the very next year, where you’ve been ever since.
You have been satisfied with the direction of your career. After narrowly winning re-election in Colorado’s lower chamber, you were prepared for two more years of middling legislation. That was, at least, until you received a call from the last person you expected.
“Mr. President.”
Well, not officially president yet. He had just yesterday been elected, but has yet to be inaugurated. Those few months between Election Day and January 20th are mostly focused on one thing. His cabinet. Even though it’s one of the few topics you could’ve expected from him during this time, it still came as such a shock when you hear his voice on the other end of the phone tell you that he is considering you for a position. For a progressive, national figure such as him to want you in his cabinet is nothing short of a product of divine intervention.
“I-…I would be honored, sir.”
He gives you a list of positions that are open, whether that is because the others are taken or he wants somebody else appointed to it. After a few more minutes of brief conversation and letting the president-elect know that you will consider your options, you say your goodbyes and hang up the phone.
“Lord have mercy…”
You decide that you need to go for a walk, even if it is the middle of the afternoon with the sun quickly setting. You just need to breathe in some fresh air. You tell your wife, Meredith, that you are going out and grab the essentials. Phone. Wallet. Keys. Then you’re out.
“I mean, this is so sudden…”
You are satisfied with your station in life. You’ve always believed in modesty as a virtue and too much ambition can kill. However, being a member of the president’s cabinet gives you more opportunities. Not for yourself, but for others. To better people’s lives one policy at a time. That was the main reason you decided to become a politician in the first place. By the time you walk through the front door to your townhouse again, you’ve made up your mind. You will join the president’s cabinet. Now it’s just a matter of which position you will take.
(1/2) 
January 2, 1927, Lapizlazulli, Vitelia
Claude Gaumont had been but a boy when the spark of the Emrean Revolution had blazed into a wildfire, and since the first moments, he had yearned to be one of his people’s champions. The war had gone on, and he had learned more and more about the cause, but when had strength and nerve enough to have a hope of deceiving a less conscientious recruiter and finished the most basic of training at arms, the war had come to an unceremonious end.
That had been half his lifetime past, and ever since, he had yearned to find the battleground where the fate of tomorrow would again be decided. Vitelia seemed to have been that place, and many others had thought the same. A wrong assumption. The Revolution in Vitelia, it seemed, had not been theirs, and Claude had been forced to flee his comrades in the face of a sudden downpour of defeats.
A minor noble called Di Avolo had sheltered the Revolutionary, a stray flower of the Red Garden that he had found and put in a glass vase. Both knew it wasn’t for Claude’s sake, though. He was a toy, an item in a collection. The shame was the price of survival and comfort. All of the others who had not fallen in battle had been rounded up and deported to the wastelands, or scattered and fled on their own. The Utopian Front had left the lot of them in the cold- and even now, Claude repeated to himself…
“Why?” He asked out the window, to the crowd outside, assembled to listen to the man who had vanquished the Giardino Rosso, to that man himself. “What turned the League against us, to side with tyrants?”
In the same room was his new patron- as well as a guest of Di Avolo’s, a young man around fourteen or fifteen. He had a certain handsomeness, but his grey eyes were heavy with a discontent, restless boredom, an empty searching that Claude felt some kinship with. A son of a friend of a friend of Di Avolo’s, visiting here to broaden his experiences, but the boy had little interest in the outside that Claude had seen besides looking at it from a window.
“What an obvious question,” Di Avolo said, “So obvious a child could answer it.” He glanced to the boy, “Well? Go on, tell Signore della Rivoluzione why the Revolutionary League deemed he and his lot unnecessary for their Dawn. We’ve discussed what has been happening here enough.”
Claude could not protest. Di Avolo kept him housed and fed on a whim.
“Do I have to?” the youth said dully, “It’s obvious enough to not be interesting.”
“Indulge us. Tell this man how he came to be here.” 
Prior to 2070, a third world war happened, throwing the population in a downwards decline. Humanity tried solving it’s labor shortage by allowing human cloning, however it backfired, as the blueprints got leaked, and the world was swarmed with an overpopulation of clones. After secret documents got out, confirming the existence of a hundred special operations clones, the practice got banned again globally, and all clone life was deemed illegal, with specialized forces formed to find and capture any remaining clones. Many were captured, put back to work in key industries, many were killed, and some escaped and are on the run.
It is now 2090, both the human and clone populations are unconfirmed, leading to increased distrust and tensions, the world is on the brink of collapse.
Like the old story about Pandora’s box, humans have a tendency to unleash horror upon themselves, and whether this particular cataclysm will be the end of humanity, or merely another bump in it’s journey is yet to be seen.
But you don’t care too much, seeing most humans don’t even view you as equal. Monica Hopkins, a nice name, certainly better than „CCST-64-F“, the factory code printed in the small electronic sheet implanted into your eye. The name was chosen by your creators, all tho the reason being practicality more than attachment.
You were one of a secret line of clone humanoids, created specifically for spy operations, hovewer due to human hubris, your very existence is now outlawed.
You realize your purpose everytime you look into the mirror. A rat meant to spy on the French government, and yet most of the world no longer believes in localized governments.
„Get moving, you’ll miss the train“ a grumpy voice reminds you, Drew Hill is a nice old man. At one point he held a gun up close to your forehead, and with anger in his eyes shouted obscenities at you. That’s long passed, he’s no longer in the police, and even if he was, he’s not one to shoot people for biological differences.
You pick up your bag and trail off. „Have a nice day Drew“ you say before closing the door. You head out to the city, the train already closing into the stop as you approach. While clone labor is outlawed, most places will still hire if the need is there, which has allowed you to pick up oddjobs and part time work across the city. Today you head out to the inner city for a bartending job. It’s well paying, and a nice opportunity to get out in between some people, but the risk of capture increases as more eager bounty hunters seek out clones.
You step on the train and pay for your ticket, most seats are empty, so you get to chose a nice window seat. As the train begins moving you notice a younger woman eying you up suspiciously from the neighboring seats. By her outfit, you can tell she might be a plainsclothes officer, ironically for being out of uniform, most of these cops dress the same.
>Engage the woman in conversation
>Ignore the woman
>Get out on the next stop 
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 
Last time, you and your hobos (+ Crossbill) played the King’s Game together and it went as well as one could wish. So well that everything developed into interesting activities of the lovey-dovey variety. The result of a man out of control meeting with some wild gals who want to have all types of fun.
It’s deep into the night, these activities are time-consuming and can take a toll on you. But after drinking that special Calamity Cola, you aren’t *that* tired. You’re pretty sure if your eyelids high-five and you continue cuddling with the redhead next to you, you’ll be able to sleep soundly. But if you want to go back to the living room to cause more mayhem, well, the night is young enough. Crossbill might still be up!
Ruby is happily sleeping on your bed (You two cleaned it), she looks like the happiest woman on the face of the earth as her dreams can barely match the reality she experienced. You’re exaggerating, but it makes your heart skip when you see her smile like this — even with her eyes closed.
To go or not to go…
…
Either way, you can’t help but think that it is good to be alive!
What do you do?
>Get comfy. Cuddle with the woman you love, and sleep.
>Kiss the redhead’s forehead, and walk out of the room. Back to the living room with your bestie.
>Write In. 
After your kingdom was destroyed by dragons, your people wandered the wilderness for many years, struggling to survive. Many died in the harsh conditions, but a few persevered. One fateful day, a glimmer of hope emerged when your scouts discovered a beautiful river valley, nestled between gentle hills. The air is fresh, the land fertile, and mountains poke the horizon in both the east and west, offering protection and resources. It seems like the perfect place to settle and rebuild.
But as the settlers begin to make their homes, a conflict arises. The question of who will lead the people to a prosperous future must be answered. Seven potential leaders have emerged, each offering a vision for the new society. As the first seeds of civilization are planted, you must choose who will guide your people.
> Azrael, the Demon Cultist – A mysterious figure, said to have made a pact with dark forces. Azrael promises the power of the shadows and the strength to defeat any who threaten your new home, but the cost may be steep.
> Seren, the Gatherer – A quiet and observant woman who has always had a deep connection to the earth. Seren believes that living in harmony with nature is key to rebuilding. Her focus will be on agriculture, resource management, and sustainability.
> Haldor, the Hunter – A skilled marksman and survivalist, Haldor knows how to track, hunt, and provide for a community. He believes in the strength of the people and their ability to thrive in the wilds, and he advocates for a society where individuals' skills are key to their survival.
> Lira, the Scout – A fast and nimble strategist, Lira excels at finding new paths and danger ahead. She believes that the survival of your people depends on understanding the land around you and being ready for whatever comes next. She plans for the future with precision.
> Bryn, the Warrior – The embodiment of strength and discipline, Bryn seeks to create a society that values honor, duty, and the protection of the people. With battle-hardened experience, Bryn will focus on the security of your people and their ability to defend against any future threats.
> Mira, the Priestess – With a deep faith in the gods, Mira believes that the blessing of the divine is necessary for a strong and peaceful community. She sees the settlement as a chance to establish a center of worship and spiritual guidance that will protect and guide your people.
> Oran, the Architect – Oran sees civilization as a product of thoughtful design. A master builder and strategist, he believes that the future lies in constructing a strong infrastructure, building homes and fortifications that will endure for generations. His vision focuses on lasting structures and carefully laid out settlements. 
(Let's see How this goes, been awhile since I've ran a quest here.)
You are standing in the middle of Central Cities mall, Central Mall, and thus far the day hasn't been the worst. You woke up today and managed to get cleaned up and ready just in time before you were thrown into the mass transport of your little organization. The initial entrance went smoothly, you managed to look adequately intimidating while your boss did their big speech despite your costume. Your squad even got to be placed on acquisition rather than perimeter duty, meaning all you had to do was load the loot and not deal with the chance a superhero might show up.
When Speedfreak showed up, well it got a bit bad. Speedsters sucked to fight, but there was only one of him and we knew staying in groups provided us some minimal safety.
Really it was thanks to your boss that kept things from going any worse.
Who is your boss?
>The Silver Don: He's a guy who styles himself in classic gangster chic, pinstripe suits, hats, gloves, the classic professional criminal get up. It's just that his is made of some weird shiny metal making him bullet proof and weigh a ton and has hidden tommy guns in his sleeves. You of course are dressed similarly, except yours is just a normal gangster suit that comes with a face mask to hide your identity and properly dehumanize you, standard henchman style. You do get weapons themed of mobster stuff though, with made men possibly getting better suits, so that's neat.
>Empress Feliine: A Metahuman with cat powers, she is running around in a sort of speudo aztec/jungle aesthetic. Furs and boiled leather, but keeping it light so she can stay agile. You get to wear plenty more leather padding, fur, and of course a stone like cat mask with prominent ears. Low tech weapons, but sometimes Empress lets her minions use magic stuff, the ones that impress her at least.
>New Wave: An Anarcho-Technocrat, which I think they explained isn't contradictory like i thought it was, straped in a cyberpunk like aesthetic. To describe it is difficult, but imagine a named gang boss in a cyberpunk game mixed with a mad scientist, and you got it. Neon lights and pulsing wires covering them and their lab/trench coat as they move around using gadgets. You also get this lovely chaotic style, with your choice of either face mask, oversized goggles, or whatever as long as your face is hidden enough to meet henchman standards. You get access to more high tech weapons made by the boss, and loyal minions getting cybernetics (if you're into that stuff) 
Darkstone. This precious mineral was able to sap away magic around itself, tearing through the ether of the Weave and allowing bullets to pierce through magical shields and projectiles.
When a volley of Darkstone came, it did not matter if grand Archmages formed great walls of fire to protect themselves or struck the bullets with swift lightning, the bullets continued on their terrible path and delivered death. Decades of study and generations of fine breeding could now be undone in a few seconds by a peasant with a good eye and a rifle.
When Darkstone came, magic died. Thus came the Darkstone Wars. The old countries, often ruled by bloodlines strong in magic, underestimated the usefulness of the black bullets. In but a few years, millennia old kingdoms and dynasties crumbled as brutalized serfs rose to overthrow their tyrannical regimes. The most terrible of magics were unleashed by the Weaveborn to protect themselves from the revolutionaries, whole countries shattered under their desperation, but, eventually, they lost. The new regimes hunted down the Weaveborn ruthlessly, they were the symbols of the old; potential tyrants that were better off exterminated before their powers grew too great.
But nothing is so simple. As the magic arts were forbidden, many of these new regimes realized how important they had once been. Humanity had grown dependent on magics that fertilized the land, created water for crops, healed the sick, controlled raging fires… Foul times of hunger and disease followed the Wars. The sky yellowed, the sun reddened. Times of anarchy and death.
When magic died, bullets ruled. Idealistic republics turned into ruthless dictatorships. All men and women were free, and yet they were cowed into a submission not too dissimilar from the old regime. Some Weaveborn were granted the right to live, as long as they used their dominion of magic to support their country.
And then, you were born. It was in 82 AD, After Darkstone, in Piras, capital of the Republic of Frankia. You were a girl, you were given the name Sybille. Your parents were humble factory workers, you lived in a tiny apartment near the district where they worked. Your early days were not too different from those of other Frankian children, you had plenty of siblings, but most of them did not make it past infancy, you went hungry to bed most nights, and you were put to work as soon as you could handle a mop. Your parents were strict and disciplined, everyone had to contribute and improve their lot, there was little joy to be had with them. Yet children will find happiness even where there is none. Two siblings survived into childhood, your elder brother François and your younger sister Justine.
You snuck away from your duties with them when you could. You played around, fought other kids, made friends. welcome back to rubicon 3 merc, post your AC and gear down below and go fucking wild 
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 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 point.
Recently, you took the mantle of elder brother to twelve younglings; you won for the second time the local town's tournament; you get in some weird pact with a gardener and you broke through the first minor realm of second stage. All is nice and well - if you set aside your concerns regarding a certain prophetic poem including words about fated dao partner and the most-dreaded rightful fear of falling behind. ![Soul Fallen From Grace, Ware Thee Well[sound=files.catbox.moe%2F80lxny.mp3]](https://i.4cdn.org/qst/1739951400763849s.jpg)
You are Fiona Jarnafeldt, L2 Trollslayer of the Helsinki Stormwatch, and today you are going to cut down a tree. The tree is equipped with a four-bore lever action shotgun with an axe for a bayonet and is attempting a mutiny, but you are going to cut it down nevertheless.
Because your story won't in that wet pit.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9amwbTX7zZs
The world management organization known as Mother Nature's Providence organizes the world into the society it is today. This includes separation of peoples that would be alike, the minimization of automation, and a strict capacity on the population which they, through agencies like the Stormwatch, enforce through violence. This city must have no more than one million souls, and there are one hundred and eighty two thousand more than that million, living beneath the streets in squalid poverty, resorting to robbery and violence to stay alive. The public doesn't know just how many are beneath here.
But the rebel knows. His name is Zephyraut, and he is a member of the Old Oaks, a seclusive cabal of researchers that helped advance society through scientific marvels. Though they serve the order that would slaughter the overpopulation, they do so with disdain and respect for all life, and the violence has become too much for this Old Oak to bear. Zephyraut uses an Illuvatar arms platform, a tree remotely puppeteered by chemicals which manipulate the tree's fibers like muscle, serving as a stealthy and powerful military asset. With that masterpiece of military and bioengineering at his disposal, he patrols the Stormdrains of Helsinki, preaching to agents and squatters to join his cause over the radio.
The tech is top secret. MNP already sent Deathwatch assassins after him, but they failed. The last survivor could only tell Stormwatch Director Katriina Jousten that Zephyraut needs to die. Instead of informing MNP that their assassination failed and facing a brutal audit, she has decided to tackle the task herself and send the agent home with a story of success. She has unilaterally paused all Stormwatch activities before a crucial point in the offense against the squatter hive in order to deal with this problem.
There can be no more delay. It must be done soon, else Mother Nature's Providence will come to clean up every loose end they damn well please.
And you, Fiona Jarnafeldt, Level 2 agent and Category 2 citizen who hasn't the rights to start a family, are a very loose, very disposable end. The fourteenth of February.
Last night, you had unpeeled an entire pack of infusers before curling into your sleeping tray, your mind shot with cyan-bright skies that your eyes would never see, fingers twitching at phantom greenery that your hands would never feel.
This morning, your mind feels clouded. Something had awoken you early. The sound of dead static morphs into an unfamiliar jingle.
<...we wish to express our sincere appreciation to you for making a LOVE donation. In order to make the experience as pleasant as possible, we have requisitioned a prototype.....to allow you to.... in the comfort of your own....>
Something thrums in the corner, too low-pitched to be your air conditioner.
>OPEN YOUR EYES.
>KEEP THEM SHUT.
[LOVE: 10/10]
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Welcome to LOVE QUEST. This is a fairly unserious, extremely brief 5-10 update quest that I had originally scheduled for Valentine's day. 
You play as Argia Candente, a devout Knight who was about to complete her most important mission… only to suffer betrayal. And now you have to claw your way out of darkness.
# # # # # #
Welcome to the fifth 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. And recently, betrayed by one of her closest friends.
Now laying at the bottom of an abandoned Temple, you suffer from a sprained ankle, breathing raggedly on the glassy floor, as the echoes of Willow’s steps fade in the darkness.
Over the course of the latest thread you braved the abandoned Temple of the Saint you are devout to, Saint Bragia Lacresta. This has left you and your friends drained, but closer than ever, as you and your companions — Rubida dell’Obertengo, Soralisa da Zaribari and Willow Stark, oh, and the Magus Sandora Mirari — managed to cast a powerful Sanction and incapacitate the rogue wizard you were sent to recover and imprison.
Completing this mission would have meant an expedite access to becoming a proper Knight, together with everything you are fighting for: allow your displaced family to settle in the Holy Land. But just as victory was at hand’s reach, one of your friends, Willow Stark, the young woman who secretly comes from another world, has betrayed you, killing the Asterite and stopping you from completing your mission.
She has done it for you, so she claims. To save your soul.
Willow has now left all of you in the darkness, disappearing who knows where. And all you can feel right now is the bite of regret in your stomach, the pain from your strained ankle and the hole in your chest from this sudden betrayal.
And this is the state you find yourself in: broken…
>ARCHIVES:
>First Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6012263/
>Second Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6049645/
>Third Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6098808/
>Fourth Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6154957/
>Voting Link (thanks everyone for voting! Let’s gild all the threads!): https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Silver%20Knight%20Quest
(thanks everyone for voting! My mom reads these threads and she said she’ll bake us a cake one day)
Update schedule: usually one updateevery 48 hours. You can expect between two and four posts depending on narrative pace and player interaction. I will do my best to reply to questions and suggestions though.
Also, we have a twitter! In keeping with tradition, you can now find Argias’ secret notes and keep up with updates and comments (and perhaps the occasional secret?) following this handle: @silverknightqst
As for a brief recap for new players… last time on Silver Knight Quest… 
THREAD THEME: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZkDQo1uCx6E
It has been five years since the Lighthouse War, a war whose end helped usher in a new peaceful era of mutual cooperation the likes of Vincent Harling and Kei Nagase always dreamed of. But peace is a fragile thing that requires constant care and effort. It's easy to forget how the actions of a few can plunge a nation, a continent, or worse, a planet, into strife.
In southern Verusa, a frozen conflict amongst brothers and sisters stirs awake, threatening to devour the storied lands of Arkanar in the bitter flames of war once more. With efforts spearheaded by Osea and Erusea, the IUN springs into action with the intent of restoring peace and upholding order in the country.
In recognition of your past performances, your nation's Naval chain of command has transferred you to IUN Peacekeeping Force detachment in Arkanar. Specifically, the premier Submersible Aviation Cruiser Squadron of the newly-assembled OFS Nautilus, the Fairy Squadron. You are to take the place of their flight leader.
As Fairy 1. 
…
And so, believer mine, it shall be done.
You agree to abscond from the realm of humanity, and find yourself among a world where only Pokémon reside. Such a world always exists in a precarious balance, somewhere between a dark dream of the future and a bright memento of the past skies… Its preservation is as such a very expensive thing. Why, there's simply no way you'll possibly survive the ordeal fully intact. I've observed countless of these transpositions, long before various deities came forth to try and better oversee them. Your human body and memories will typically satiate the travel fee, but even then, though you value order, your kind are bringers of calamity no matter what world you choose to reside.
Even knowing this, you still won't refuse…?
…
That's good, I sense no wavering in that soul of yours. Speaking of…
A soul absent of its memories can find new ones to nourish itself, but a body absent a soul…? Surely such an unprecedented creature would find itself maddened in an instant! That won't do either of us any good. Consider this your final task for the application process. I'm going to propose to you some scenarios, I want your full honesty in their answers. You wouldn't lie to me, would you? Another human feigning faith in the hopes a new body will bring them some semblance of power?
…
Should've known. Not ambitious enough for such treachery, no matter, ambition may come with time. But as for now, you're a lovely prospect! Tell me who you are, that I may transpose your soul into what you wish to be. Four questions should suffice, let me see now…
(Continued…) you're a gnome going on an adventure
you are going to slay the giant murderous snail that destroyed your village
but you don't know where it lives
> find an elf and ask for directions
> go to the human village to recruit mercenaries
> speak to the animals of the forest to ask if they saw any giant snail
> write in 
After a frantic sprint through the labyrinthine sewers, the entire party charged forward together—only for disaster to strike. Without warning, a massive stone wall descended from the ceiling, slamming into place with an echoing thud. Dust and debris filled the air as the mechanism sealed shut, splitting the group in two.
Eve, Gris, and Zamora found themselves isolated from the others, their voices drowned by the eerie silence of the tunnels. With no way to lift the barrier, the three had no choice but to press forward, weaving through the maze-like sewer passages in search of an exit—or a way to reunite with their friends.
Yet every path they took led to another dead end, the way forward blocked by rusted metal grates. The stench of stagnant water thickened the air, and the distant sound of dripping echoed through the darkness.
As they pressed on, they came across a cluster of kobolds hunched over the murky waters, fishing with makeshift rods. Though wary, the creatures paid them no mind, their glowing eyes fixed on their lines. They did not seem hostile, so the party cautiously approached.
“How do you get out of here?” Eve asked.
One of the kobolds turned, tilting its head. “Wait three days,” it said, its voice a raspy croak. “Wall trap resets.”
Gris groaned, crossing her arms. “Well, I don’t wanna wait three days.”
With no choice but to continue wandering, the trio pressed on, their footsteps splashing through shallow puddles. After what felt like hours, they stumbled upon a stone staircase descending deeper into the unknown.
But as they descended, an ominous chill settled over them. The air grew thick and damp, carrying the scent of decay. Their path soon led them to a monstrous sight—a giant spider lurking at the tunnel’s edge, its many eyes glistening in the dim light.
Zamora, ever the diplomat, cautiously stepped forward, speaking in a hushed, melodic tone. The spider responded, its chittering voice vibrating through the chamber. It spoke of a terrible presence dwelling in the depths—an ancient evil so fearsome that even the spiders dared not tread further.
Yet, despite its warning, the beast soon revealed its own intentions. Hunger gleamed in its many eyes, and with a sudden lunge, it attacked. A fierce battle erupted, blades flashing and magic crackling through the air. When the dust settled, the creature lay motionless, its dark ichor staining the stone floor.
Shaken but undeterred, the party pressed on. Another staircase loomed ahead, leading to a chamber partially submerged in water. The air was heavy with moisture, and the rippling surface of the flooded passage hinted at unseen dangers lurking beneath.
Faced with uncertainty, the trio hesitated.
What will you do?
> Descend deeper into the unknown.
> Return to the first level and set up camp.
> Explore this second level further—you haven’t seen everything yet.
> Write in 
THE BASICS
Your name is Joey Donuts.
You are Grel (half elf, half human}
You are a student wizard. You haven't picked your major and you're not licenced to use magic in areas owned by the Grand Ternion Unity.
You have SIX spells
Blast - Does 6d6+20 energy damage. -MP 20
Draw- Drain 10+2d6 mana from a target, providing they have mana -MP 5
Wrack - DO 10 damage to yourself to gain 12 MP -free
WIZARD HAAAANDS - Manipulate an object you can see but not reach. As strong as you are - MP 10
Douse - Extinguish any fire up to the size of a campfire , includes ignitions from matches and guns - MP 5
Hells Heart - Instantly double the damage of any attack (ranged, magical, or physical) by charging it with magic -MP 16 Joey has improved this skill and can cast it on another party member while still performing an action for 20 mana. He can also cast it on himself and one other person while performing another task for a cost of 41 mana.
Earths Honesty - Tell if someone is lying about the thing they have just said. MP 6
You are the acting CEO of Cold Iron Solutions potion company. Making mutterbottles and mana potions
You solve shit.
Your consigliere and number one is also your girlfriend. An enterprising goblin for hire called HIGHBALL.
You have a company staff.
LUMSDEN -Owner and pilot of your airship
SURREY - Potion brewer
JONES - Staff chef
GILCREST - Custodian
KARL - A private investigator
You have adventuring party members
BURSTOCK - An chill but rebellious healer. A thot with a big heart.
MIKE - A pragmatic hunter, kinder than he looks. Kind of your bro.
RICHTER - A wise muscle wizard, unfamiliar with people.
JORN - A distractible martial artist trying to make up for past crimes.
previous thread for more details:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5995074/
This quest is nice and slow so don't panic.
Here is the wikia that is chock full of info on the characters, locations and mechanics (and misspellings).
https://trust-a-goblin.fandom.com/wiki/Trust_A_Goblin_Wiki Welcome boys and girls to the beginning of a new fantasy quest, one where investigations will be even more important to solving your problem than violence and power. Ultimately the methods will be up to you and I do apologize in advance if the opening feels a bit stiff because we've got a big handful of character customization to go through...
For general communication outside the thread, see this twitter https://x.com/TaleOfMonsters
I'll try my best to update once every two days at a minimum until I unrust, then once a day will be a good pace. 
The Caretaker Quest - Part 5
This is part 5 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.
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.
>Something dangerous and mysterious is happening.
>Harry Potter is the new Headmaster of Hogwarts and extremely stressed.
>Somehow, you can see ancient magic.
>Peeves ripped out your foot.
>Merlin himself is stuck in your head and slowly recovering his memories. Now you have to help him save the...everything from being annihilated out of existance.
>Potter’s daughter also had a powerful wizard inside her head, turns out its Salazar Slytherin and he has been messing with her for years.
>You have a sportsy German girlfriend.
>You recently woke up from a magical coma after magical shenanigans with the corrupted version of "Faith"
>You went back to Hogwarts and now Salazar decided to finally take full control of his host body and release part of an omnipotent magical beast.
What will happen now? Let's find out!
Part 4 here >>6159531
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/
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) 
If you want to make a mystery gameboard, use this thread. Don't flood /qst/.
Colored truths script: https://greasyfork.org/en/scripts/418818-4chan-umineko-colored-truths
>How to use the Red Truth
<span class="mu-r">The Red Truth[/spoiler] is a fact that can be presented by the one hosting the mystery (also known as the Witch side) without any evidence or proof to support it. But, while undeniable, it can have multiple interpretations. The multiple interpretations mark a large foothold for the opposing players (also known as the Human side) to attack; therefore, the Red Truth must be used with care. Conversely, a refusal to validate a statement in Red invokes another Devil's Proof; a lack of validation won't prove a statement's truth but can't disprove its falsehood.
>How to use the Blue Truth
<span class="mu-b">The Blue Truth[/spoiler] is used to present a possibility to counter the logic of the Witch's side. The Blue Truth usually takes the form of a theory to counter the Witch and requires the Red Truth to be confirmed or denied. The Blue Truth must be used in a manner that advances the user's overall theory, rather than simply fishing for more information. Any assertions made in Blue must directly deny the influence of the supernatural in the events of a gameboard's story. The Witch side may delay until the end of the game to challenge Blue Truths; after all, only one puzzle unsolved by any explanation other than magic is enough to sustain the Illusion of the Witch, but one carelessly phrased Red Truth can eliminate the possibility of magic from all of them. One effective denial isn't fatal, but unchallenged denial of magic in all the mysteries becomes a categorical denial of Witches.
>How to use the Gold Truth
[gold]The Gold Truth[/gold] is on par with the Red Truth, although it may be inferior or superior depending on the situation. It can be explained as a truth constructed from belief that is acknowledged and shared between people. It can be used by anyone who truly understands the gameboard.
>How to use Purple Statements
Purple Statements are seen as important spoken statements during the narration of a story and they possess the same standing as the Red Truth. However, they are different in that a culprit can lie with Purple. Example: "[purple]Battler was in the dining room[/purple], while Jessica was outside."
To turn it around, non-culprits can only speak the truth in Purple. What defines a culprit depends on the gameboard, but usually the culprit is one who kills or plans to kill someone during the story.
>How to use the Green truth
>I seriously hope you guys don't need an explanation for this one 
"Oh great..." someone groans.
You couldn't believe it when the first TF incidents happened. Everyone thought it was a hoax, but nope, it's here to stay. You'd think drugs that switch peoples' genders at the drop of a hat, or turn them into human-animal hybrids, the government would keep it top secret.
If only things were that simple. If only.
You're no fan of the feds, but you wished they'd have a monopoly over TF magic than the people who actually got ahold of it. Who did, you might ask?
It wasn't the government. It wasn't the corporations. It wasn't even the drug cartels.
It was the furries.
The goddamn *furries*.
You wish you were joking.
TF magic has been tainted by association. You've watched the YouTube videos. The cringe compilations. There's nothing weird about it, but thanks to them, it's not something anyone wants to touch with a ten-foot pole. Hell, you've even heard they might even pass a law that deems public transformation a form of indecent exposure!
But for some reason, the place you work at has made it mandatory for your particular end of the business.
Why? Why! Why!?! WHY!?!
So who are you?
> I don't like it either but rules are rules! (A middle manager)
> This shouldn't even be legal! (Reluctant employee)
> This could be interesting... (you're into this)
Note: I can't think of a name, or what the organization does or is, so let me know what you want to see in the replies. I'll be as open minded as I can (as long as it isn't anything inherently sexual!) 
Turn 20
The bloody paroxysms that swept the land of Pavilion seem to have quelled for a touch. In the east, great armies march to vanquish greater evils, in the west the spread of conquering nations are slowed against walls of vines and steel. The nations grow ever more interconnected, the Tyrns Without Summer receding into memory as the larders are stocked full with an ever-growing variety of fruits and meats. With food, trade, and peace aplenty, it is no wonder that the scholars of the land express hope for an imminent flowering of the arts and sciences. Of course, only time will tell if better natures will rise to such ideals.
>We're currently full-on players, though that can change with short notice. If you're interested, join our discord. The invite code is: F2Patcf.
>>6186351
>Skrit colonies
The swarm is on the move! Ants move by the thousands, then tens of t housands. Their first objective is the defense of Delta. No clever masonry goes into these defense however, only a vast trench that is carved out, heaped up, then riddled through with hundreds of skrit tunnels. Delta secured the swarm turns outward, colonists flooding into Krawl and Vitruvian lands. In Vitruvian lands the Skrit meets sharp resistance in the form of Sabbatical, the Vitruvian corpse puppeting plant. Without a dedicated military force the Skrit expansion is pushed back into the sparsely inhabited jungles. The expansions in the Krawl infested jungles to the south however will sway to the winds of fate however as the two hiveminds clash against each other. 
Iustus, the Righteous.
Impius, the Unholy.
Two divine forces, locked in an eternal struggle, each seeking to claim dominion over the shattered world of Requiem.
Born from the fragments of countless realities, Requiem is a land of broken existence—its foundation shattered, its soul corrupted by the ceaseless war waged by its gods. For eons, they have fought, with neither side able to achieve victory. Their battle stretches across the cosmos and through the hearts of every living being.
In this, the Twelfth Cycle, the gods grow weary. Tired of their endless clash fought through lifeless vessels, they devise a new plan. To settle their dispute, they reach beyond their broken domain to find suitable avatars. From unknown realms, they summon the bravest and the darkest of hearts to fight in their name.
Impius, harbinger of ruin, calls forth the vile and the wicked. Six hearts of thorn, tainted by malice, rise to serve him in his unholy mission. They are his Warriors.
Iustus, beacon of order, seeks those of courage and conviction. Six hearts of survival, pure and steadfast, are chosen to stand against the onslaught of darkness. They are her Champions.
The war that has raged for ages grows ever more brutal. The clash of light and shadow echoes through the land. But soon— 
"I have helped you remember who we are, the great people of ancient Ilythiir, and of the darthiir who have betrayed us," you begin with a measured cadence, sitting yourself at the fountain's edge to address the High Sorcerer's apprentices as the tyrant sun rises above the garden in the High Sorcerer's spire. The azure sky stretching out infinitely in all directions, setting the scene for your next lesson. "But there are many different people in this world, who are not like us, that you will meet in Everlund. I will tell you of them, so that you will be ready when you meet them."
Mytyl, the red-haired girl, looks up to you with her lips parted, already poised to ask a question. With a gesture, you shush her, delaying her query until your lesson has begun proper. "In this sunlit world, the most common people are the rivvin, or 'humans.' You have surely seen their many colors and heard their languages by now. They are clumsy, weak, and dull, hardly worth our time. Pity them, for their lives are so short that few even live a hundred years, if that." The albino boy, Tyltyl, recoils in silent horror as you mention that the human lifespan seldom exceeds even a century. "But the best of humans do have their uses, and can sometimes see the truth of our greatness. Those are the ones worth knowing," you concede as an afterthought.
"When an Ilythiiri or a darthiiri mates with rivvin, a tu'rilthiir is born. They are very lucky - the blood of Ilythiir saves them, from the bad blood of their weaker parent. Luaue is tu'rilthiir," your explain. Mytyl interjects, raising her hand and speaking at you before you can manage to silence her again. "What about our teacher? Is he also tu-lilithiir?" She inquires, her scarlet eyes ablaze with curiosity. You pinch the bridge of your nose, recalling the mere mention of the half-breed High Sorcerer sufficient to make your day worse. "Yes," you sigh, "but he has two bad halves." 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXNWxlKPT1Y&ab_channel=story
Your name is Fido Ballthrow... and your life is extremely complicated.
In three days, you, and everything you know and love will be destroyed, and if you do not kill some random rich guy (who for some reason wants you dead), the entire world will be plunged into eternal suffering and damnation. Well, at least that's what you think, anyway.
In the days that have passed so far you have found a (very scary) girlfriend, got your best friend shot, and “reconnected” with your family. Now it's time for you to reconnect with another part of your past... your friends!
You peek through the window of the house in front of you. You can hear people talking from the inside, some of the voices you recognize. You sigh, build up the courage, and then knock.
After a few moments, the door opens, and you're face-to-face... with HIM.
"Oh... my... God..." he says, his mouth agape, but soon his expression changes into one that is disgustingly cheerful, "Fibro! Welcome, man! How the heck is it going?! It's so great to finally meet you!"
He walks up, noticing the bandages around your head.
"Oh, yeah! Alice told me about that... great kid! Maybe you'll have a sick scar or something!"
You really do hate this guy. He opens his arms as if expecting a hug. What do you do?
DAYS: 3
DAY TIMER: 15:19:00
>Punch him
>Hug him
>Pat him on the shoulder
>Stare at him
>Ask him where Lily is
>Ask him where Felino is
>Ask him where Alice is
>Ask him how he's doing
>Something else -Transmission initiated by the Automated Cosmic Assistance System (ACAS-7).
Release date: 33/13/∞ (Non-Linear Time Cycle).
Status of Dr. Dorwintops: MISSING.
Dear earthly beings and dimensional specters,
Today, after 7.3 cosmic seconds of biometric silence, I have activated the contingency protocol. Dr. Dorwintops Primordium Trikeratos has ceased all communication.
In compliance with Directive 66 (“If the Keeper falls, the truth flourishes”), I will release partial access to his classified files, including:
Dorwintop's logbook: notes on Maveth's corruption and his birth plan.
Doctor's last recording (fragment):
“If you listen to this... it's too late. Maveth is hungry. He is-” [audio distorted by non-human screams].
End of transmission.
-ACAS-7 disconnecting. May evolution guide you.
Safety note: Do not trust the whispering shadows. so your a mercenary, take jobs from corporations, do the job get good pay, simple shit, but you got a big ass mech, goes fast, customizable for different preferences, all that good shit
So keep taking them corporate jobs, blow more shit up
Who knows, if those corporations owe you enough they might be able to help you steal some less than legal weaponry for your mech 
The world of Aenolyn is steeped in struggle. The powerful empires of yore have crumbled, the wisdom of the pantheon has gone quiet, and the grip of mankind has weakened. This is an Age of Despair...
But not for you!
Every few centuries, the stars align and anoint a Wizard. Today, you have become that Wizard! An architect of arcana! A scion of spells! A true master of magic! You alone can do sorcery beyond whole circles of archmagi!
Once you figure out how to actually do it. Right now you're still reeling from your mystic awakening. You're pretty sure you hit your head on the way down. Ouch. You lay in the mud and try to collect your bearings.
Who are you?
>Proud Ditchdigger: You never learned how to read, write, or 'rithmatic. You don't need it when you know the value of hard work! (Serf)
>Lazy Aristocrat: You never worked a day in your life. You don't need to when you have your household servants! (Noble)
>Orphaned Squire: You saw your knight get slain by orcs and have been running ever since. You learned his lessons well but they're on your trail! (Fighter)
>Hungry Pickpocket: You escaped the gallows after stealing from a fruit stand. You are on the run from the law and a hefty bounty! (Rogue)
>Failed Apprentice: You were expelled from the mage's tower for your terrible spellwork. You'll show them! You'll show them all! (Mage)
>Village Idiot: You are severely disabled and never got any help. Basic interaction will be difficult. (Hard Mode)
I'm annoyed at the civs that start and go nowhere, so here we are. This might be a oneshot, this might not. We shall see. 
pick race and location
please only select races from the chart, and don't select races nor terrains which are marked with a big red X, because I don't want to run those
races mentioned but not chosen will exist nearby
if you want some kind of special fluff for the race or for the world tell here as well, if there is support we can include it
we start tomorrow, today is for deciding the race
I might change rules on the fly to control complexity creep, but combat rule is unlikely to change, so I'll post it here
combat is solved with 3d100 to beat a DC which is modified according to circunstances, whoever has more successes win, 100 counts as 2 successes, 1 counts as -1 success. anyone who wants to roll can roll, but only once, and I will pick the best result.
I kinda like vancian magic so we'll probably use it for our system
updates will be usually once a day, but if I miss one day don't panic
we might do extra updates or even day long sessions on weekends, but not necessarily, will depend on how much time I have free
I'm intending to run this civ for a few months, perhaps up to one year
so I'll try not to flake 
You are barely more than nothing at all, less than a ghost, less than a memory. You have no past, there is no future, yet. An apt metaphor might describe you as one tadpole among many, swimming in a warm pool. This metaphor is not entirely accurate, but it will suffice, for to describe the connection between the starving tadpole you are and the reality shaping god you might become would be no easy task.
You have no name and no features, though for the sake of organization the universe will permit you a single character to mark your identity.
You are hungry, and growing hungrier. Two sources of nourishment present themselves to your fragile and nascent mind. The first is to drink from the warm water that you swim in, of which there is only a little remaining. The second is to lash out and slaughter your brothers and sisters, whose bodies will return to the warm water from whence you all came.
----
Character Submission:
Name: The universe grants you a single character for your name, to better keep track of you.
Backstory: You have none. This warm water in this dark place is all you have ever known.
Motivation: You are hungry, which dominates your thoughts, but perhaps something else lurks behind the haze.
Corpus: You have three Corpus, which represents your integrity as a less than a memory thing. At zero Corpus you cease to exist entirely, unless you possess a Domain, in which case you merely fall into a coma, and restore 1 Corpus at the start of the next turn. Such a state leaves you terribly vulnerable however.
Might: You have three Might. When you attack you roll a die with sides equal to your Might.
---
Available Actions: You may take two actions. At the end of your turn you will lose 1 Corpus, unless you have acquired a Domain. It is unclear how this might be achieved.
Drink: You drink from the Warm Water, and gain 1 Corpus, reducing the total water by 1.
Attack: You attack one of your brothers and sisters. Choose one. Roll a die with sides equal to your Might. Their Corpus is reduced by the result of the dice roll and is added to the Warm Water.
---
The State of the Universe:
There is you, and your siblings, all identical for now, save a single character the universe has allowed you for a name. You swim in a great lake of warm water, a tiny wriggling thing. The more curious of your siblings discover a smooth and firm wall encircling you on the side and bottom, with no corners, only smooth curves.
There appears to be 30 units of warm water here to feed you and your kin. It is unclear if it will be enough. 
The soft song of a flute echoed through the sleeping hall, as Morgan was taking a knee whilst holding onto her sword with one hand. Anofelis was trying to do the same, wanting to show similar respect as Morgan. Kamara, Vinisha, Oreas and Chrysidus were also looking down as they surrounded the makeshift grave which Morgan had created. Laura was also respectfully bowing her head, as they were taking a moment of silence for Illimani. After having heard the news, Morgan had gotten most agitated and upset, wanting to deliver justice to the "crooks who murdered my creator". Of course, Laura and the others had calmed her down, and had helped to set up a funeral to at least honour his memory. They remained quiet for a few minutes, soon after listening to Annie's eulogy for Illimani. Though once Annie's eulogy has ended, Morgan would give some own final words to her creator as the music softly played in the background.
"Illimani. We gather here today to... honour your legacy. For years, you helped create subjects such as myself, and ensured that our kind was able to live peacefully and to become the best versions of ourselves we could be. It is a shame then, that we must part ways so suddenly and that you will not be able to see the fruits of your labour. Alas, we will keep going, despite your passing. We will keep fighting for what is right! We will keep protecting those we love and ensuring none shall suffer as you have. I am... sorry that I wasn't able to save you earlier. I wish I could have been better, that I could've been there for you in your greatest time of need. Alas, it wasn't meant to be... And unfortunately, it means the world lost another beacon of hope... Despite your loss, the light you brought onto us, will continue to keep the coldest nights warm, and the darkest nights bright. It will motivate us to keep going. To keep doing what is right. And we will never forget the many things you taught us..."
Morgan started letting out some tears now, clearly feeling more and more pained as she kept talking. "Goodbye, Illimani. Goodbye and rest gently. I hope you can still... look down from heaven, and watch us continue doing what's right." Morgan would lower her head, keeping quiet before sniffling some more. "L-Like you said when you f-first taught me how to wield a sword... 'this blade will do many great things in your hands'... I shall do such, I-Illimani... I shall do such..." There was a bit more silence, before the radio was turned off and Morgan would remain seated at the grave marker she had made. "Thank you, e-everyone, for joining me. I-I know he wasn't your creator, so you may not feel as strongly as I do, but... i-it means a lot to me." Vinisha would walk over and pat Morgan's back, whilst Kamara went over and gave her sibling a soft hug. "No, we do understand, Morgan. We felt the same when we lost Mona." Oreas said sombrely, also patting Morgan on her back. 
You awaken surrounded by the sounds of gaskets and whirring machines, your heart races as your body seems chilled to the bones.. as you look around you realize that you have just woken up from some kind of cryogenic stasis, judging by the gnawing cold and the design of the machine from which you had awoken. It doesn’t take much longer than after you awaken to come to the conclusion that this place seems abandoned, and you seem to have lost your own memories.. unable to recall anything little more than a name.. You are: (Pick one Character, the other two will have their fates omitted from this world)
Ayana Sakama
You are Ayana Heartblade.. heir to the throne of a world spanning empire. You can still remember glimpses of wonders beyond the imagination of most peoples, and a great sense of your own arrogance and importance, but that is all. You fail to recall the face of anyone, not a single person as tears well up in you.
+Ancient Princess [P] (Technology from the ancient era will never fail activation and will always obey commands, and does not require to be hacked, including enemies operating ancient technology)
+ Cruelty [P] (+25 on attacks against prone, stunned, and vulnerable Mecha and Creatures)
+ Artifact Genetics [P] (Exceptionally beautiful, truly a wonder from a forgotten age, but in the flesh. You have a +40 with interactions between those enamored in your beauty (except combat). You always regenerate from any wound, and can recover from core collapse ONCE instead of it being a guaranteed fatality) In the year 1987, crime and corruption in America is an epidemic. Drugs and guns flow into the country from everywhere in the world, and the gateway to it all is the coastal paradise, Heat City. This is a place of shining high-rises and shadowed alleys, sunsets and smog, neon and blood, ruled by ambition and greed and power. Here in Heat City, you can get whatever you want -- if you can pay the price. 
The world is flawed.
It is not imperfect though, just crafted to be full of flaws.
Life is full of suffering and conflict, perpetual race where the living fight to find meaning and solace, either by giving themselves and each other meaning, or by taking it from those weaker than them.
An unwinnable war, a race against time, a race against “The World”.
A battle lost from the moment one is born, the pure soul is slowly drained of its myriad colors, and then cast away once it has been consumed.
Beyond the world exists a Gate, and beyond the Gate exists an Infinite World.
In that infinite world you still found suffering, that might just be a constant, but more importantly you saw the radiance of all souls, young and old; and saw meaning that does not exist at home. You learned that this infinity was cold and unfeeling, impartial and silent, and yet very comforting.
So you, [????], decided to bring “This World” into the infinite.
Not for anyone in particular, you don’t exactly have many people you care about to begin with, not out of resentment for the life you’ve had to live, after all that’s just how life in this world is.
Simply because you felt like things should be as they are beyond the Gate.
Another five joined you out of their own volition, together you worked for millenia to bring the world beyond The Gate, and failed.
The Gatekeeper did away with two, to who knows where. Another had to become one with the world and keep it from breaking apart under the immense strain from The Gate, and you don’t know what happened with the other two.
As for yourself, The Gatekeeper pushed the world away using you. Your cultivation burned away as it set the skies ablaze, your body shattered as it tore through the ocean and the world’s crust, and your soul was fragmented into infinite specks of spiritual energy, leaving nothing behind.
But that doesn’t matter, you reached the gate and went beyond it. You learned things that even The Gatekeeper itself is unaware of. Your existence "is" and "will be", it will simply resume some indeterminate amount of time in the future. Fate is simply a suggestion, and your destiny is yours alone… “Next time I will… Next…..” 
Quest Hub (party, location, neofauna information, date, time, etc.): https://rentry.org/PokepocalypseQST
Quest Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Pok%C3%A9pocalypse%20Revival (Start here if you want to catch up on the quest's previous threads!)
Updates will be attempted daily! At worst, expect an update every 2 days instead of one. Absences will be announced in advance and given definitive end dates if I can manage it.
<><><><><>
In an alternate 1884, an aspiring naturalist seeks to study a new type of fauna...
Our great United States have recently been assaulted by all manner of alien fiends! From fire-breathing anteaters to steel-clad birds of prey, all of America has been thrown into a state of turmoil as superpowered creatures, commonly referred to as demons, rampage across the land, destroying countless settlements and wreaking havoc wherever they go!
And yet, despite their catastrophic affects on this great country, there remain small sects of humanity that believe these creatures to be the key to a new world... a new world of co-existence, in which humanity needs fear them no longer...
Walter Roy Buchanan is one such man! He finds himself accompanied by three of these alien companions-- an electric sheep with great gusto, an oversized silkworm with a gentle disposition, and an infant nature spirit with the ability to paralyze his foes! All three of them are near and dear to his heart-- dear enough to convince him to endorse a small group of likeminded people, known as Staters, in defense of their safety.
But Walter does not accompany himself solely with these new beings. Alongside him are also two human companions-- Thomas J. Steele, a wealthy businessman and politician who was stranded further north alongside Walter, and a certain "Andrew" figure who's been hired by him to defend and ferry-around both Steele and Buchanan! Both men have naturally picked up demonic companions of their own, though only Andrew seems as interested in them as Mr. Buchanan.
In the present day, Buchanan and his companions reside in Sacramento for an indeterminate length of time. Mr. Buchanan wishes to return to his home state of New York, fearing for the safety of his family there after a series of statewide tragedies, but has yet to finish the studies that brought him to California in the first place. He is further anchored to the city by the offerings of a retired Civil War general, tempting him to help him with a small activist movement meant to depose the newest Governor of California, Collis Porter Huntington, after his most recent acts of law have begun actively targeting demons inhabiting the entire state. He claims there to be something rotten in the city of Sacramento... but is it Buchanan's responsibility to fix it?
Well, dear player, that all depends on you.
<><><><><> 
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 
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 spread to all of your neighboring sectors and has seen to the destruction of all but your capital Cartha in your sector.
The temptation to have two of the largest freighters converted to heavy cruisers is there however the enemy seems to struggle to hit smaller ships with their large laser turrets. Turning to Issac your XO “I want two light cruisers, an armed supply ship and a Landing dock ship for salvage operations. Can we do that?” Issac nods aye admiral should actually take less time even maybe four months instead” Mr meek clears his throat the scummy looking governor seemingly having something to say. “Admiral that is grand and all but how are you to defend Cartha if your fleet is not here to do so for some reason?”
>Convert shuttles into Torpedo Boats for local defense
>Set a number of old corvettes as guards
>write in
Last thread:https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6156388/
all of my Threads:https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=BrinkQM Hello, /qst/ers!
Welcome to this adventure across the fantastical land of Jubilee.
Here we will follow Irina in her waku-waku quest!
This quest is in comic format so, ehr, be warned.
This is a thread promised long ago! Yet, take
whatever happens in this thread not seriously
as Irina is >>>/i/778779 anon's OC. And
some stuff may be different from the original.
(e.g. The Helm/Marco's origin) This is Zero Quality Fantasy Quest! Welcome!
You are Zero Quality, our protagonist! People just call you Zero.
You are in a tavern drinking some beer when you see a busty elf and you get a tent.
You have 5 silver and no weapons, but you're real strong from working the fields all day everyday since you were a small lad.
What do you do?
> Drink another tankard of beer and go talk to the elf
> Slap the barmaid ass and start a brawl
> Comment to the barman how hot the elf is
> Write in 
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
_
Something very exciting was going on. Sure a fight between two cultivators isn't that uncommon nowadays, and it certainly isn't when an arrogant young master pushes their whipping boy a little too far while being closer to being their equal instead of their superior in all things. That wasn't what was exciting, though seeing that loud mouth called Barracuda get slammed face first into the floor of your recently constructed castle is quite cathartic, what's gotten your ears and tail perked up is what that whipping boy by the name of Heng has done. The sliver of natural primordial beast essence woven through his spiritual roots and rooted into his meridians, had somehow, through pure instinct or natural affinity, managed to perform without instruction, guidance or explanation a chimeric transformation. Something you didn't think could be done by anyone but a magical beast who stopped and meditated on their ability to take on a human form.
And while seeing the gentle eyed peasant boy go berserk and tear tufts of hair and claw the young master who had dared to try and tell you to send one of the students of your class on Beastial techniques away was a little entertaining, in the way that watching kittens bowl each other over and train to pounce by playing with eachother's tails was, it was that instinctive use of a fairly advance transformation technique performed by a novice of the Qi Condensation stage that had you so excited. But more than excited, you were curious, just how far Heng could go. While a beast attaining human form required certain insights and a deepening of intellect and comprehension, was the same true for Beasts?
Could a human even become a beast, even if they were overflowing with Primordial Beast Essence as high quality and refined as that which is produced within your own beast core.
Well, only one way to find out. You lift up a finger as Hai Xiannu whines and begs you to stop the very cat like fight between Heng and Suoyu, while her brother Hai Ma and her fellow pupils Xia Xiaofan and Kuángcháo gawk and watch in amazement, sometimes muttering about how the fight is going or some technique one of the two young men have just performed.
There is a ripple of bright, green the same hue as fresh spring growth or maybe Lian Luli's hair, ripples out from the tip of your finger as you connect your beast core and funnel a massive burst of the primordial beast essence churning within it through your meridians and release it from the palm of your hand and the ends of all five of your fingers.
Cont The world has fallen into ruin. The once-mighty empires have collapsed, their cities overrun by war, famine, and magic gone wild. The gods are silent, the great kingdoms are dust, and the age of heroes is but a whisper in the wind.
Yet, not all is lost. You are the last light of civilization, a remnant of a once-great people who have found refuge in a remote valley, deep within the ruins of an ancient fortress-city.
But beware! Foul things stir in the deep places, remnants of the catastrophe that ended the old world, and the heavens themselves are broken. Strange storms and unpredictable magic shape the land in ways unknown.
Here, amidst crumbling stone and forgotten magic, you must forge a new destiny. 
You are Ben Parker, super-powered criminal and thief extraordinaire. After being bitten by a radioactive spider, you underwent a miraculous change, and adopted the identity of "The Huntsman"! But it's not all bad! Your clone brother, Abel Parker, works to protect the city, and potentially help clean up some of your messes. He goes by the name of "Spider-Man"!
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Max%20Spider%20Quest
Last time: Khonshu's gift to Cindy awakens and identifies itself as a vengeful spirit of Khonshu named Mercy. Due to her alien nature when she was alive, Mercy is able to freely manipulate her cloth body to suit Cindy's needs, making her the strongest costume Cindy's ever had the privilege of wearing!
But can she save Cindy from the treacherous members of the Monster Council? Who else can Cindy trust down here? Will Cindy be able to keep her head long enough to settle this "Slayer business", or will she lose it to one of the monsters hoping to end the prophecy?
Find out more in the latest issue of…MAXIMUM SPIDER QUEST!
Rules:
Most dice rolls will be 1d100. Modifiers will be added depending on the situation or on the alien being used(Usually +10 or -10). Crit successes and crit fails apply. Crit fails can be overridden by crit successes, but crit failures cannot override crit successes.
How to Roll:
To roll dice, type “dice+1d100” in the options field without the quotations. To roll dice with positive modifiers, type “dice+1d100+modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number. To roll dice with negative modifiers, type “dice+1d100+-modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number.
Pastebins:
Character Sheet:
https://pastebin.com/1ZihFYSV
Equipment and Gear:
https://pastebin.com/WAhveFAd
Contacts:
https://pastebin.com/WdcFXD2s
10 Commandments of the Desperados:
https://pastebin.com/Qpr2jVPE
Costumes:
https://pastebin.com/5Jie54X2
The Huntsman’s Travel Guide:
https://pastebin.com/PU6LWsip
Upcoming Events in the Maximum Universe:
https://pastebin.com/DceSEjiR
Good luck and have fun! 
Quest archives
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Krypt-Chan
“Do you think you can help me? I’m not really bad, if I wanted to eat you I would!”
“You’ll eat me?”
“I mean, no, I meant that I can but won’t because I’m not a bad bug!”
Be it the bizarreness of the situation or his mind too tired to think, this made sense to Tobias. A normal tyranid would eat him by now. He stared at the yellow pupils, almost drawn into her eyes and face. The moon’s pale light accentuated the sharp angles of her nose and lips that resembled so close to a human.
“I’ll help you…”
“Really?”
A smile revealed the deadly maw of jagged fangs. Ninety-Nine’s tail wagged.
“Yes, where do you need to go?”
“I don’t know.” Ninety-Nine set Tobias down. She cupped her cheek as she pondered. “I’m not going to look so well when I come in… Where are we?”
“Sector Six.” Tobias said. “We’re close to Sector Five here.”
“Oh that’s where Stracken is!” Ninety-Nine cheered. “But he won’t recognize me without any armor…”
“I can go back by myself.” Tobias offered. “I’m certain you will be shot moment you are seen, and I will be as well since they will assume I am under your control.”
>I’ll follow you until you get to Sector Five, I’ll wait at the entrance. I’ll hide if I see anyone.
>I can wait here
>Write-in
Additional choice (optional)
>“I wouldn’t really eat you by the way… you have pretty eyes that’d be a waste.” [Face check]
>“I wouldn’t really eat you by the way… Not that I think you’ll taste bad but I like having you here.” [Face check] 
With the battle already finished and your regiment's forces at last reunited, your captains of horse waste no time in approaching you, quick to deliver their apologies for not arriving in time for the battle. After your army moved out, says one Gautier Dessany, your regiments had assembled on the day after in the place you had previously camped at, as had been expected of them. Although the message that you had moved on had managed to arrive, it was only wheen your cannonfire was sounded that they had learned the battle had already begun, and picked up the pace accordingly.
You, of course, accepted those apologies without much issue; although their lack of presence worried you at first, you have come to think it may have perhaps been a deliverance of fortune in the end—who could say, if they had been here from the start, that the enemy would have felt emboldened enough to deliver the attacks they did, and thus bring you such a fortuitously clean victory? Would it not have been better if they instead pulled back and avoided combat entirely? Nay, you conclude. Through the benefit of hindsight, you come to believe you have done what you did right.
Just because the battle is over, however, does not mean your day shall be less the busier - now comes the ever so necessary process of putting your army together again into a marching state! Already, you can see your new 'prisoners' being stripped of their arms and armor, that they may be bound in rope and kept danger-free until you have decided whatever you shall do with them. There is also the healing of the wounded! Because you have access to the phyisicans of the Order of Santo Cor, many of the men who might have died in the armies of other states may be rescued instead. Your own dead, too, must be buried accordingly.
Come nightfall, your camp has slowed to its common state, the men drink their share to a well-fought victory, splurging greedily on their pay. You are told that, of the nearly 60 men who were grievously wounded, only 35 died, almost equal in number between your Third and Tenth companies of foot, the latter of which were the mercenary arquebusiers brought by the Banda Grisa. Nonetheless, such small losses are certainly not bad!
"They are of negligible quantity, sire." says Hugues, as you go over the after-battle report. "Not enough to damage their fighting capabilities."
"I suppose it is good we have lost so few men as it is." you reply.
"Verily, my lord. You have shown yourself to be an adept leader in this day," he begins, in a tone you know not to be of mere flattery. "I am of the utter belief you shall become an respected general, should you maintain the abilities you hath shown today."
"I thank thee for thy words, Hugues, but I know my abilities to be far from perfect; experienced as you are, you must know any mistakes I have made, no?" you ask, wishing to make use of your staff officer's past for your own wealth. 
Thread archives
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%20Imperium%20of%20Man%20Princess%20Quest
What needed to be done.
Pangea scoffed. This courtesy was to be done out of preventing Lorgar's rage. Nothing more. Later in the day, Pangea sent the recording to Lorgar without much of a thought.
Old Gods.
Old Faith.
A world already tainted. Disgust prickled her throat as she stared at Colchis from the bridge inside Hydra. The dark grey interior and Hydra's familar clicks and low hums echoed softly unlike the almost silent interiors of Bucephelus. Diani stood on Pangea's left, silent but dutiful as ever with Hector at the head of the bridge overseeing security with Hayward.
“This planet should be just colonized by Imperium citizens instead of leaving it untouched or unstripped.”
To think those misguided worshippers would be part of the Imperial Army, the very thought wanted her to gag. Certainly, due to being a homeworld of primarch the Colchisian forces will gain certain privileges that no other regiments will have. The thought stoked her disdain hotter.
“At the very least, that damn monastery should be blown up.”
“Shall I inform the Master of Ordinance and prepare some refreshments for the viewing?” Diani said playfully.
Pangea rolled her eyes.
“Funny.”
The dark grey interior and Hydra's familar clicks and low hums echoed softly. Hector climbed up the stairs to Pangea, his jaws clenched with a worried gaze. He eyed the tabac stick nestled between her index and middle finger.
“Lorgar Aurelion has arrived, your eminence.”
Pangea blowed out a puff of smoke.
“Good, tell him I'll meet him in my office.”
Pangea always thanked Diani's work. The once blanket of parchments, used quills, and dried inkwell that habitated on her wooden table disappeared. A circular ceiling light with hanging chains of glass and different shaped lamps made from various materials illuminate her office. Various scented candles were scattered in small corners and on top of cabinets and containers, leaving no corners unlit and shrouded. Beige marble floor reflected the light, almost glowing from how much the floor bounced back the light.
“Sister.”
Lorgar on the red carpet that stretched from the entrance to her table. Pangea's eyes watched Lorgar's steps, and saw his feet stepping on the Aquila without much of a thought. Lorgar sat on the large chair clearly fit for an astartes or a short primarch on his own.
“Tea?” Pangea gestrued toward a Primarch sized cup with a large teapot.
“Please." Lorgar took the cup and sipped on the tea. "The brew is elegant, thank you.”
“I'm glad. I invited you here to inform you of this.” 
1st thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6156570/
_
Sven-033's Qualities: [Special] Giant, Maverick, Officer
Sven-033's Advancement Paths: Brawler 2/10, Bulwark 1/10, Jötunn 1/4
Sub Objective Progress: The Chief's favorite 4/5, Apple in her Eye 4/5, Artificial Artisan 1/?
_
Mood Music: https://youtu.be/qrabM3o2YuM
_
It was an easy choice. A chance to reclaim the name that was taken from you, a chance to have at least some say in your future and path in life. As the last faint trails of smoke rose from the fresh ash of Chief Petty Officer Mendez's cigar, you took the OCS Application form he had pushed across the desk and take the pen that was clipped to it. For a moment, your heart sank, as you tried to remember how to spell your last name and for one, brief and terrifying instant couldn't remember. But closing your eyes, pacing your breathing and entering a state of calm, you dive into your memories and surface again with the family name that you had nearly forgotten.
In bright blue ink, you scrawl "Sven Askeland" atop the form, and without another word exchanged push it back to the CPO's side of the desk. Beneath his grey cut beard, on the usual disciplined and expressionless face of Mendez, a smile that to your eyes looked proud of you emerged as he took the papers and pulled a stamp from inside of his desk.
"You'll begin next month. We'll keep this hush hush until the blank ink is scrubbed from this projects records. All the teachers will know, is you are an extraordinarily bright young man whose dreamt of military service since he was out of diapers, Traine-033. They won't know your age or any of your background details. And until you earn your commission, you'll be a ghost in their Reach Naval Officers Academy."
He nodded, silently dismissing you and ordering you to return to Deja's morning class before you missed to much of it.
"And, this is off the record, and if you tell any of the other trainees or instructors I'll make sure you regret it, Boot" He called out, right before you reached the door "But I wish you luck, Sven, and hope that we'll both live to see me salute you as my superior office, somewhere down the line. Dismissed"
You smiled, and nodded back
Progress has been made to the final Progress Point of Sub Objective: The Chief's Favourite
"I'll hold you to that promise, Chief" You call back, just as you slip out the door and jog double time back to the classroom, pinching your arm when you reached the stairs leading to it, just to make sure all of this wasn't a dream. You could almost jump for joy and shout the name you took back, sure you were still Sven-033, but you had your old name back to now. And that was worth more to than any amount of extra desert rations or commendations. And after spending four years training to become the best of the best, and a modern day Spartan, going through Officer Candidate School as well would be as easy as a pleasant woodland stroll.
Cont 
After your master perished, his dungeon did not simply fall—it was annihilated in a cataclysm of stone, flame, and collapsing sorcery. You barely had time to snatch an armful of tomes from his private collection before the walls cracked, the sigils burned out, and the world came crashing down around you. Fleeing through a hidden escape tunnel, you emerged into the cold night just in time to witness the final death throes of your former home. A thunderous roar split the air, followed by a rolling wave of dust and debris that swallowed the entrance whole. It was gone. The dungeon, your master, and all his grand ambitions, buried under a mountain of ruin.
The old fool had gambled on immortality and lost. The so-called heroes made sure of that, cutting him down in a battle you hadn’t even been there to witness. And in his paranoia, he had bound the dungeon’s very foundations to his lifeblood, ensuring that if he died, his domain would die with him. Well, it worked—too well. Now he lay entombed beneath tons of shattered rock and broken wards, and nothing short of a divine wish could bring him back. Not that you had any idea where to find one. And even if you did, would you really waste it on this mess?
For a time, you wandered, alone and uncertain, before stumbling upon a handful of survivors—goblins, of course. Of all the dungeon’s denizens, they were the cockroaches of the underworld, scurrying from calamity with their lives intact through sheer, unrepentant cowardice. And yet, as they huddled together in the moonlight, clutching salvaged scraps, you couldn’t help but think: perhaps their knack for survival could be useful.
“What’ve you got there, goblins?” you ask, eyeing the bundles in their grubby hands.
One of them, a wiry thing with oversized ears, holds up a rusted set of spring-loaded spikes. “Traps! We saved what we could. Could help, you know... when we start our own.”
You pause.
Now that’s an idea.
A new dungeon. Your dungeon.
And as luck would have it, you know just the place...
> An abandoned silver mine near the remains of a razed human village—rich veins of ore and deep tunnels, if you can handle the restless dead.
> A winding cave system leading to the ruins of a long-forgotten drow outpost—dark, treacherous, and still whispering with lost magic.
> The crumbling remains of a half-flooded underground temple, looted long ago but steeped in ancient, lingering power.
> Write in. 
You are a magical girl, you know that much, but you’re not really sure where you are, or exactly who you are; not only can you not see, hear or smell a single thing, but you can’t feel your body at all, nor recall how long you’ve been stuck in this… place. Perhaps not unexpectedly, and due to your complete and utter inability to make out anything in your surroundings, you can’t spot anything resembling walls, a floor or a ceiling, so everything around you is a blended-together, eye-wateringly intense (but also eerily calming) black… and yet, you are somehow aware that even if you could somehow see something, anything at all, it wouldn’t be much use at all. Well, if that isn’t just slightly puzzling. Yes, it most certainly is, but there’s not much you can do about it, right? At least, for now.
Taking that into account, and for a few moments that seem to last forever in this timeless space, you simply continue existing, gazing eyelessly into the unchanging void around you as your non-present brain in your absent body attempts to process the situation without much success. A few more eternal instants, and, perhaps bored of simply staring at nothing, forever, your long-departed brain attempts to recall the past in order to clue you in on the situation… but, as if attempting to collect water from an empty well, you end up drawing a complete blank: effectively, and to nobody’s surprise, there is nothing to recall or remember or reminiscence about. Maybe there was never anything there in the first place. But as relevant as that single piece of information would be in the grand scheme of things, you have no way of finding out the truth or verifying that not-that-unreasonable hypothesis. Because, ultimately, you’re nothing but a floating ball of vague and distant thoughts in the middle of nowhere in particular.
An indeterminate amount of hypothetical time passes yet again, and another vague thought floats to the forefront: maybe, just maybe, this isn’t so bad after all! Indeed, though the situation you find yourself in may be classified as disconcerting or disorientating, it’s actually not that unpleasant if you use your voided brain to think about it: there is no pain, no suffering, no hunger, no desire, no thirst, no anguish, no fear, no craving, and you need not worry about an unchangeable past, an unstable present or an uncertain future. Perhaps this is how things were meant to be. Perhaps, from the start of all things to the end of all of creation, this is the correct state of existence, a formless and aimless void stretching forever and ever, unbothered and unbothering, without beginning or end.
[1/6] 
The world you've reincarnated yourself into was nearly perfect. The overdone and stale tropes gave you comfort. You know what to expect, and where to expect it from. That included the evil as much as it did the good.
Your dreams of having a harem of beautiful women that would pamper you and devote themselves to you entirely, mixed with your more recent desires to expand your wives and future children a nice place to live, was nearly torn to shreds.
Last week was almost enough to make the reality of this magical world set in: A force of nearly 1,000 bandits sought to invade your estate. You imagines this was the reason why many isekai protags liked going under the radar was soon shown to you, though in all fairness you hadn't been doing much to stand out. All you'd done was invade one of their smaller camps with a giant mech. Was such a response really needed? It seemed like cliches could be deadly.
But not for you.
Thanks to your leadership, the robotic clankers, the defensive preparations, your wives' fighting skills, and a giant laser, the bandit scum were repelled without much issue. With at least 400 dead in their ranks, the losses would keep them licking their wounds and give you some time to breathe.
Antagonists were a thing to be expected. Something that you expected. They existed to keep the story going and let the mc show off how cool he is, and maybe save another cute chick which would soon be added into his harem of doting women. What story would be complete without a few villains?
But on the other hand... It would be nice if everything got solved smoothly.
Anyway, the fact still remained: You needed to be prepared.
Three things were needed the most— money, energy, and an army.
Money was pretty much accounted for. You had a cotton farm and more than enough food items to sell. But if you really wanted to rake in those precious gold coins, there was a plan you'd been shaping together with Herta.
"As the Goddess of Artifice," She'd boast. "I'm without equal when it comes to creating things!" You were both seeking to smelt one of the rarest metals of the world.
Aluminum.
That flimsy stuff you used to take for granted in your last life was not yet mass produced. From your experience in Centria, it was bound to sell well. This was your golden goose, and you didn't intend to fumble it.
The size and scope of the project made it impossible to keep Ruby Rose from knowing about it. And once you told her of your plan, she was fully on board with it.
"Your genius is truly unparalleled, Master~" Her elegant contralto flattered you. >You take the role as customers at a new trinket shop that has appeared in town, Try to make a heafty profit after robbing the local wizard or ask for powerfull artifacts to get that 6-10 Goth Girl, rember money is far from the only currency
>Post your offers, desighered items, trade ins, or services
Welcome! soon to be marks, Id be happy to buy/sell/trade any supernatual Item
Just let me know What you want and ill make a steal of a deal
"Fae and Armenian free enstablisment since 1991" 
You watch the formed droplets of water flow down the glass before you. The officer around you is large, temperature controlled, and also a part of the governmental building, with you having a private office at the very top of it, as is befitting your stature as the one and only Edel of house Hardrada.
Despite the great advances you had managed to achieve, to steer the course of a colony made up of a bunch of traumatised and mentally scarred veterans, you had managed to avoid violence with surprising efficiency and ease, mainly due to your nature. And yet, now, everything just seems so worrisome.
“David ?” Finally calling out your name, Zack draws your attention.
Right, you are still in the middle of a meeting, your mind wandered. “Yes, I am listening.” You finally manage to steel your mind and concentrate.
Zack sighs. The energetic man that would never shut up once he got going had, while not losing his enthusiasm, aged. Clear wrinkles, tired eyes that are there no matter how much he tries to sleep. Not to mention that the man never liked exercising, so the years of staying in the lab had resulted in him, well, getting fat. Still, he, and you for that matter, are far off batter than Ashwin. You have no idea how long he will last. 
A foot comes down on your head and grinds your nose into the ground.
You understand some guys are prone to liking this sort of thing, especially when it comes from a beautiful woman of gentle birth with a rack twice the size of her head. Unfortunately you happen to be a woman yourself, with a strong preference for men, and an even stronger distaste for bitches like the one who's decided to stomp on your head. The front row view to the silk beneath that peaks out from beneath her skirt makes you more judgmental of her taste in underwear than it excites you.
"Pigs?" you ask between a mouthful of dirt. "Seriously?"
"A washboard and a pervert!" The black-skinned beauty hollers with laughter. She gives you a shove with her foot and a kick to your ribs. "Perhaps I should report you to the Collegia Administratum for harassment. They'd be doing a useless flatty like you a favor if they kicked you out!"
Her posse giggles. You haven't bothered learning any of their names, not the bitch and not her friends, it's just not worth the effort. Just like everyone else, they insisted you lacked the assets for sorcery. That if you wanted to join a Adventuring Guild, you'd be better off learning sword arts like a man, become the rare female warrior who dodges an unfortunate end. At least they had the tact to simply say "you lack the swell of magic".
"Not... useless..." you grumble through the dirt.
"Hoh...?" the bitch casts a spell to pull you roughly from the ground, dragging your sore and beaten body to eye level. "The flatty thinks she's not useless? You've had more than twenty years to swell with magic, and what have you to show for it, huh? No, no, let me show you the difference between our stature."
The bitch pressed her chest to yours, a common way for sorceresses to assert dominance by comparing the magic that stirs in their bosom. Despite your twenty one years and your otherwise impressive stature that exceeds six feet... this rich girl near a foot shorter than you easily smothers what little magic swells above your heart. Your face twists in disgust, as you've always hated such rituals...
Though a small voice wonders if you'd hate it less if you had something more impressive to show.
"Do you feel it?" the woman purrs. "This is the gap between a flatty like you and the magical might of the well endowed. You should meditate on your deficiencies and consider where your strengths lie. After all, the Collegia Espada could always use more orc-bait~!"
As she lets you drop to the ground, your eyes narrow. Telling you to go become a swordswoman is one thing. Disrespecting the fate suffered by so many female warriors is another thing entirely.
What do you do?
>Leave before you do something stupid.
>Use a [Cantrip] to light her hair on fire.
>Use a [Cantrip] to cut her blouse open.
>Use a [Cantrip] to flip her skirt.
>Use a [Cantrip] to dunk her with water.
>Something else? 
Greetings, and good day to you all!
Some of you may be familiar with NRP, or nations roleplay, or perhaps civ builders may be something you know? Anyways, it is essentially DnD but Risk, played out on larger scale. Builders typically use more numerical means of tracking play, while NRP prefers more figurative means - "it's all about telling a story, losing is part of play, weaker nations get crushed in the course of history and sometimes buddy - you're weaker." It is up to the GM's discretion to be a fair and balanced arbiter in these games. No one is perfect.
Long story, we are having a game on going with several players, still in early stages. Barely 10 turns in, and we are having issues with some player's real life obligations taking a priority over some silly internet game. It would be detrimental to the game to have their nation erased entirely, so we are seeking a player to possibly take over this slot.
We are a bunch of 4chan retards, so expect the occasional /pol/ humor or abrasiveness from a Polack. The players faction/nation/people's submission is this. Anyone interested?
Tribe:MANIČHÚŊTHEȞIKE (those who walk within the forest ) AKA Forest Walkers
Race: Stocky Dark skinned people, their hair ranges from dark black to rust red, they have eyes of either ice blue or forest green. They look like humans.
Colour: dark green
Biome preference: Temperate Rainforest, Like the American Pacific Northwest along a coastline preferably. With heavy rainfall, some kind of mountain range, A large Old Growth forest they would live in, and varied wildlife.
Size: They are Average in height the tallest of the Forest Walkers standings round 5’8 or 1.7 Meters
Lifespan: Normal. Life span ranges to the mid 80s for the women, men is slightly lower
Quirks:
Oral tradition -Good- innovation bonus, Knowledge and tradition retention bonus Favorable starting spot
Nature Magic -Good- large foraging bonus as your main thing would be growing plants and a defensive bonus
Born Hunter Gatherers -Good- large foraging bonus, and military bonus
One with the Trees -Good- Ambush Bonus, Defensive Bonus, And (TBD)
Custodians of the land -bad- May only settle in predetermined areas
Blunt -bad- incapable of lying or keeping silent
>Also I am not sure if this is the final result, will have to get in touch with GM about how the Forest Walkers are right now. 
