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], [i], and color tags [red], [green], and [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). 
In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.
——————
You are a crew member of the Claymore Class corvette, the Emperor’s Glory, one of the thousands of unsung workers on the mile long ship.
The Glory was part of the fleet of sector Zeta-Zeta, one of the many sectors on the wrong side of the Great Rift, and among those who was left with no choice but to try to flee the doomed sector.
The fleet was supposed to try to go through a thin part of the rift- but as many things had in this dark era, it gone terribly wrong. The storm scattered the fleet. Sensors and auspex failed, riots broke out as half the ship gone mad, you survive the week of hell.
We just dropped out of warp. From what you heard is that the Vox is down and that the Astropath is unable to reach anyone.
May the Emperor save us.
——————
You are a
>>Man
>>Woman
Your name is;
>>write in name
You are a;
>>Void worker
>>Tech-Priest
>>Auspex officer
>>Armsmen
>>Ship scribe.
>> =][=
>>Commissar
——————
>be prepared to boldly go where no man had gone before what sites i can use to learn satanism ? 
The world lived in a magocracy for as long as anyone can remember, the upper classes being those who have mastered the arcane arts and the rest of society being the peons who would do their dirty work. Every settlement had a powerful wizard who was the lord protector over the people there, with life and death authority. Many of those wizards used their prerogatives to do horrifying experimentations with the people.
One day, some kind of disruption in the flow of mana cut off the wizards from their powers. The people rebelled and started to murder their wizard masters.
What every wizard learns from basic arcane theory is that the energy that power magic has to come from somewhere. Most wizards drain the metaphysical plane of demons, just "below" our own world. This causes destruction in large scale and chaos to unfold there, but the wizards don't care - it is just a bunch of demons. But this simply ceased to work on that fatidic day, and most wizards were unable to adapt quick enough.
Many have heard some rumors that some wizards managed to retain part of their powers by using alternative sources of mana.
You're one such wizard, and your powers come from the forbidden art of:
> Soul drain. The soul of a being is located in their head, so if you capture and shrink heads you can use people's heads as material component for spells. Works with monsters and animals, but they tend to have far less mana than humans. The head of a wizard and some magical creatures causes far more powerful effects to occur.
> Blood magic. Blood contains a little bit of magic. By spilling copious amounts of blood - yours or someone else's - you manage to cast the simplest of spells. More complex or powerful spells require large amounts of sacrifices, preferably in rituals, so that you can muster all the power.
> Mana powder. By turning anything with magical powers into a fine powder and snorting it, you can use magic for a very short time. Grinded dry brains, dry blood, broken magical items, mana crystals, demon horn - anything with magic can be snorted and turned into magical power.
> Write in 
You are Tristain d’Rusalka, a noble from the United Kingdom of Fodlan born with unique abilities bestowed upon you by the Goddess. You have journeyed across the sea to the desert kingdom of Morfis after receiving an invitation to join a mysterious competition. Though you know little of the trials that lie ahead, the winner of this contest has been promised the hand of Morfis’ Princess, Yulia Xan Phanes, in marriage. Seeking adventures, thrills, and battles that would be worthy of your might, you embarked on this strange voyage with nothing but your trusted axe.
Your journey took you to Ithaca, a research camp situated in the midst of a magical sandstorm that barred intruders. Shortly after your arrival, the camp came under attack by a clan of desert assassins. They kidnapped one of your companions, Alvin, and took over The Keep, a fortress where Ithaca’s researchers performed their most dangerous experiments. You and your companions stormed the stronghold, facing enemies that included not just the assassins, but also monsters, ancient spirits, and even a skeletal clone of yourself.
Having rescued Alvin, you learned that he was the target of the assassins, who were seeking an object in his possession that would open the way to Tartarus, a great tomb that had been sealed away for thousands of years. With two more destinations to go before you reached Morfis, it was likely that you would face additional threats to your safety.
But this was a prospect that excited you greatly.
>Tristain d’Rusalka
>Level 26/50 Lord (EXP: 60/100)
HP: 54/54 (120%)
Strength: 28 (65%)
Magic: 18 (40%)
Speed: 17 (30%)
Defense: 20 (60%)
Resistance: 15 (40%)
Luck: 14 (55%)
>Personal Skill: Resolve (When HP falls to less than 35%, Strength, Speed and Defense increase by 7)
>Weapons: Steel Axe (+12 Attack), Hammer (+8 Attack, 3x attack vs Armor Knights)
>Spells:
Fire (+3 DMG, 5 Uses)
>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 x2 (+20 HP)
>Gold: 1000g
>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 
History casts a long shadow.
You’ve lived in that shadow for your whole life, tarnished by your father’s sins and misdeeds. But he lived in a shadow of his own, as had his father before him. Your entire family has carried the same burden, your blood poisoned by the taint of ancient decadence and illicit affairs. Rot, as Elle’s prophecy claimed, spreads from the tree’s roots. Not for the first time, you wonder how your father felt about it. Did he turn and flee from his tainted lineage, or did he embrace it? And what of you, what will you do?
Outside your bedroom window, the dense forest waits like a symbol of everything within your heart – one of the crude metaphors that your father used in the dreary poetry of his youth. Dark and dense though it may be, you finally know the path that leads to its heart. You know what awaits you within, a secret entrance to the Demesne and your lost sister. Yet, faced with this reunion, with the other half of your soul, you’ve hesitated.
What are you afraid of?
The forest is not empty, not without life. You know this now. You’ve seen the strange creature living within it, yet you feel no fear. Even knowing how the creature was able to lift Daniel aloft and throw him about like a doll, you know that it means you no harm.
The same cannot be said for anyone else, however. Another night, another job. The White Moon? Hitting a hospital downtown to draw attention to their cause is exactly the kind of thing of they'd do, and this makes the whole thing seem like one of their political setpieces rather than a corporate hit on anyone. But we know better - right now, witnesses we need are in danger, swept up in the grandstanding statements of armed paramilitants and gangers gone gun-mad. So your job, Agent, is straightforward in its excess difficulty: simply get in, get to the people in danger, and get them out. The porcelain hordes are pushing from the north, east and south while the ever dwindling numbers of defenders, still loyal to the four, die, one by one, to stem the unending tide.
Last thread:
>>6140211 
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Tuffle%20Quest
>You are Son Peppa, Son Gohan, and Izumi Mahogany, children of Earth’s heroes, Maple, Goku, Acer, and Chi-chi
>“Canon” has taken a radical shift from the series’ norm, you’re just one part of it, and things could go even further off the rails from here
>Mechanics and character details in the pastebins here:
Peppa: https://pastebin.com/zKv0PE9j
Gohan: https://pastebin.com/BgLug38n
Izumi: https://pastebin.com/wiKgqAi5
>Let’s all try to have some fun, ok?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sj5PGIqnaFs
Last time, on Dragon Ball Tuffle Quest Kai! Peppa finished up her Spirit Control training with Pybara and went to a Winter formal with Cocoa, while Izzy managed to finish the spell prep to rescue one of the displaced heroes! With the Time Patrol’s assistance, three teams were set up to rescue Chiaotzu, Shin, and Tien, with Izzy, Gohan, and Peppa joining the respective teams for each. Izzy, 19, 16, Chuu Lee, Raditz, Sala, and Hado all join up to rescue Chiaotzu, finding him him displaced all the way to a universe ruled and managed by powerful planetary Kami in elevated positions calling themselves “Archons” and opposed by the powerful warrior Hearts, who had been training Chiaotzu since finding him!
Teaming up with Hearts and defeating one of them while subduing and even convincing another, Zelos, to ease from his tyrannical path and join the fight against the others. Finally, in planning a move against the leader of the Archons, Yalbadoth, the group recruits the deceased son of the man, Ryuuno, in an effort to bolster their forces against him! However, Izzy caught on to something not being right with Hado, finding a being called the Promethean Chronicler taking up residence in his mind… and ready to offer him a deal. Will Izzy and co. manage to defeat Yalbadoth and bring Chiaotzu back home? What of Gohan and Peppa’s teams? Good luck, Izzy! Good luck, Gohan! Good luck, Peppa! I'm tired of uncertainty, is anyone still here? 
You were a black dragon, a terror that haunted the dreams of mortals, your presence alone enough to drive entire regions to despair. In other words, you did as a dragon does; you showed the weak why they ought to fear the powerful. And you took pride in it. Is it not a noble pursuit to teach those lesser understanding of the world?
As a tuition fee you collected all things beautiful. Not only gold and gemstones, but also fine works of craftsmanship, be they arcane or mundane. And, of course, beautiful women, and the occasional men too. Although the fleetingness of youthful beauty made you indulge. After all, they weren't objects to keep forever.
Of all things, it was that last fact that angered an elven goddess. You had always been under the impression that gods won't interfere with mortal affairs, and yet her avatar came to personally curse you.
You were transformed into a weak human, a woman. Impeccable smooth and soft skin, shoulder long and equally smooth black hair, supple mounds on the chest, and just enough fatty tissue on the arms and legs to show generous nourishment the likes of which only aristocracy or clergy can enjoy among humans. And, while you haven't been able to see your face yet, you know without a doubt that the elven goddess has chosen your appearance to mock you. A beauty that you would go out of your way to collect for your hoard.
That beauty is now adorned with leaves and twigs in her hair and scratches on her skin from traversing the forests undergrowth naked. You still think of this body as not yours, despite all the physical sensations to contradict it. The weakness, the cold, the pain. All sensations that you haven't felt in decades. You want your body back, and you want revenge on that goddess. You don't know how to do that. Informing the dragon god would be a big step, but right now you need to survive. It was a dark and stormy night, not that you knew or cared about the weather. You were too busy having been reborn from your past life as a
[ ] teenage McDonalds worker
[ ] mid-twenties office peon
[ ] middle-aged Hollywood star
[ ] retired garbage collector
[ ] write in
And now, here you were - a wrinkly newborn, born into what you would come to know as a peasant family straight out of a fantasy world. Expect, if you were living a fantasy, you wouldn't be placing yourself in it as a peasant.
Oh, well.
Where does your family live, anyway?
[ ] On a farm in the middle of nowhere.
[ ] In a village not all that distant from a city.
[ ] In the city slums.
[ ] write in 
It is the autumn of the year 1254, Anno Curia, with winter approaching ever so slowly from the frigid north upon the normally so pleasant valleys that you have nestled your armies in. There thankfully won't be much snow like there is back home. Nor will it be so cold as in Greifswald, but nevertheless you want to be prepared for the inevitable.
Yet there are dark clouds already gathered over the Mithradian Archipelago; the infidel has been put on the back foot. But now it is the crusaders themselves who threaten to jeopardise the war effort, and Mithradianans themselves have proven no aid either. That one of them has declared himself king is perhaps the worst thing that could have happened at that moment, but it would seem that ambition has won out over nobility in the hearts of man.
For now, you can only watch the developments down south with caution. Montpelerin has carved out for himself a very rich realm, and he will entrench himself in it with every day that passes. Your hopes are now focused upon the other three 'big' leaders of the crusade, Marlwick, Castelanne, and Westernesse, and the unaligned knightly orders. There are a lot of players in this game, you have found, and a lot of them are completely untrustworthy.
Yet that is not all that you are concerned with, nor is it the biggest problem ever. If you can manage to build a coalition of northern crusaders, you could force Montpelerin to come to terms; aside from that, you could also stand stronger against the imperial government, the Doge of Alotoro, and the infidels themselves. Though with the campaigning season behind you, it will have to wait until next year.
Now, you are combing through the bowels of a palace built upon the ruins of an ancient fortress, searching for any clues that may help you achieve your goals. The forge that you found there could serve as the main supplier of arms for the campaign of next year. And indeed, it is a grand thing; the furnaces stand empty, their mouths cold and deprived of their molten metal. The anvils and their tools stand rusted and decayed. Whatever was left of the products stored in the storerooms had also rusted. Getting this place running again might require you to invest some significant resources, both material and human, into this place. But there is an anvil unlike the other. Not black and metallic, but marble, with golden engravings. It emits a faint golden glow with a soft metal hum. It is broad, heavy, and pristine, untouched by time and neglect. A hexagonal hole in the middle, or perhaps it's better to call it a slot or a keyhole.
Obviously something belongs there, but when you came down here the first time, you couldn't find the damn thing; you discussed it with the Vilicus, a being who fills the same station as the seneschal back home. Nevertheless, after consulting him and looking around for any place such a thing might be stored, you, like many before and after you, spend a few hours in silent suffering searching for the key 
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.
Most of your jobs are from your Handler, a member of a powerful family who asks you to check up on things or 'clean' up messes for him.
All of this is taking place in the City, a massive megacomplex spanning across hundreds of thousands to hundreds of millions of square miles. Being a Cleaner is one of the most efficient ways to make money in this continental sized megacomplex if you know what you're doing.
You get the drill.
As for how that job is going? Not half bad!
You teamed up with a group of revolutionaries down at an abandoned underground facility and dealt with a handful of anomalies down there. In the process of working with them, you brought a soviet soldier from WW2 back into the future through anomalous time travel means.
You proceeded to head to a rave to unwind, got a new body for a body possessing ally to control and started to prepare for your next mission. This was hampered a bit by your apartment complex and the surrounding block turning into rubble thanks to the Spooks trying to mess with G-Corp.
You carried on regardless and started your latest mission: Checking up on your Handler's extended family to see how they're holding up. You have to travel all across the City to do so but the first stop at Q-Corp was quick and easy. You had to kill a sniper and deal with an android trying to defame you but you easily secured the first Foxtrot. That's when you moved to D-Corp for the second one.
D-Corp has been hell. Your allies have been slowly losing more and more of their sanity as you travel the district. You entered up at a spore infested facility in pursuit of the second Foxtrot. You dealt with a Spook there and entered a unsteady alliance with her before finding Seath Foxtrot.
It took setting the anomaly controlling him ablaze to snap him out of the anomalous trance he was in. He's with you now, though!
You're now busy dealing with a side quest about a missing dog that was kidnapped by a gang. You're on the way to the warehouse the gang is taking nest in order to rescue said dog. You can't wait to get out of D-Corp, man.
ARCHIVE: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Cleaner
PASTEBINS:
MAIN CHARACTER SHEET (Your stats/abilities/perks are written here): https://pastebin.com/3y638TfK
ALLIES (contains their stats, abilities, recruitment costs, and RAPPORT): https://pastebin.com/8gdVZBPe
MECHANICS: https://pastebin.com/A9nLYWP6
PARTY (Who's with you currently): https://pastebin.com/NeYKiyED
INVENTORY (contains your items, consumables, weapons, etc.): https://pastebin.com/n0MH6M17
CITY INFO (General information about the Alphabet Companies and other notable entities): https://pastebin.com/ZP2JN7mT 
The Church of the Sun uncovered an ancient secret about the world - the gods created a powerful ritual which when successfully performed can make a continent raise from the sea floor, but by doing so one or more existing continents might sink! Further research is needed, but it is possible that all major cataclysms in the past were caused by someone performing this ritual.
The ritual was uncovered by translating slabs from an ancient underwater Nagah temple recovered by an intrepid group of adventurers. According to these texts, the ritual can only be performed once per millenium at most. According to the sages calculations, the most recent ritual... was already performed a few years ago and no one noticed.
So there is a whole new continent somewhere in the Endless Ocean to be settled!
The Church of the Sun loses no time and finances an expedition to the unknown continent. Ten vessels, each with 200 crew, are sent to colonize the new land.
Many stormy months later, about half of the vessels crash land against the rocks of an unknown continent.
Sick, starving and cut off from the rest of the world, the new colonists must decide how they are going to live from now on!
But they must decide quickly - the land ahead is unforgiving, and all kinds of amphibious creatures are already beginning to claim it for themselves.
The people decide their new city will be called Naga. They get together and decide on a system of government.
> Feudal Monarchy. The traditional mode of government. Twice as much unrest can be quelled by garrisons. This means taxes can usually be higher.
> Trade Republic. No fancy nobles, all government roles are elective. Trade revenue is doubled, but corruption tends to be high as well.
> Tribal Confederacy. A loose alliance of clans. All tribe leaders meet in a council to organize mutual defense. Military units cost half to feed.
> Theocracy. A single powerful religious order controls the land. There is no unhappiness, but research progress is halved. 
The Third (don’t ask what happened to the second) Thread in Fatale Albion!
The First Thread:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6085308/
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 have already been selected in the first thread, one has quit and another took their place in the second. 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, the Witch was “Neutralised” and every civilian lost in the woods had been evacuated. Now the main concerns are whether Alba Appleton should follow up on Marisa’s invitation, and how Abigail is going to explain her deal with Claire. Along with Stephanie’s reaction to the “Soul Gem Talk”.
OTHER STUFF
>What happened to the second thread?
It fell off abruptly. Thankfully I keep a back-up of all relevant posts made. I’m also going to be posting the last active posts I made along with Abigail’s response.
>Can I also join in the suffering?
I’ve decided that I’m Not accepting new players because the pacing would become even worse than it already is. Apologies for anyone who got their hopes up. 
It is May 19th 0079, of the Universal Century, five days since your first two missions and the Federation's first victory against Zeon in the Australian front. Brigadier General Warren Keller organized scattered Federation forces into a formidable fighting force, launching an operation to retake a major port base in Brisbane to re-establish supply lines with the mainland Federation forces and build a solid foothold to reclaim Australia from the Spacenoid invaders.
Though Keller received credit for the victory, you are still widely recognized for the vital role you played in the Battle of Brisbane. For your pivotal contributions to the battle- successfully shooting down two Zakus, saving the lives of your squad mates, and convincing the Zeon base commander to surrender peacefully to prevent further bloodshed in a massive battle, you earned two promotions and a few shiny medals that you don't quite know what to do with.
You are now Corporal Jag Rommel- squad leader of your own anti-Mobile Suit specialist unit, one of three squads that make up the 7th anti-MS platoon lead by your former squad mate Yunnus Wynn. It's something you're still trying to get used to, both in responsibility and the way others now treat you. For your nearly unbelievable contributions, you have started to become a bit of a folk hero to your fellow infantrymen. The pressure of their expectations bear down on you, adding to the weight of the lost souls you feel obligated to carry on your shoulders.
Not only that, corrupt officers are beginning to pester and harass you. Some covet the fame and achievements you've achieved, convinced that your glory is nothing but tall tales and stretched truths that you somehow got Keller to believe. After all, how could a fresh recruit achieve so much in so little time, in the profession with the highest mortality rate?
Whatever the case, it sickens you that even in such dire times, there are those that only think of themselves and what they can stand to gain amidst the horror and bloodshed, but you try to keep yourself centered and focus on your goals.
It is currently midday, and you are:
>Out for a walk, thinking about the last time you spoke with Will and Helena
>In the mess hall, listening to Gaspa entertain the other soldiers as he recounts the Battle of Brisbane
>Looking through personnel dossiers to choose who will join your new squad
>Other- write in? 
WELCOME TO THE AMERICAN FEVER DREAM.
Have you ever heard such an eye-catching phrase? The poster before you certainly draws the attention of anyone who notices it. It's endearing, even. Yet you are filled with regret every time you look at it --- the landmine loaded with high-explosive cynicism could blow up in your face if you let your gaze linger upon it for too long.
You walk backwards, plunk yourself down into your office chair, and let out a long exhale out of deep relief, having finished moving the last of the boxes to your new Office in District P. Your wandering eyes drift upwards, following your invisible breath as one would follow a rising trail of cigarette smoke. Sometimes, it's important to mindlessly contemplate the eroticism of ceiling tiles. And some other pleasant-sounding nonsense.
Anyway.
You suppose you should introduce yourself.
OFFICE CALM (Atrium Carceri, Cities Last Broadcast, God Body Disconnect - A Thousand Empty Rooms) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5jfU1HN2pSQ
You are JOHN SMITH or, to put it another way, MISTER ANONYMOUS. Your name is not terribly important these days.
But, in the gaze of others, the work that you do has earned you the moniker of a TROUBLESHOOTER. Someone who finds trouble, and shoots it.
You do not have problems, but you have solutions.
So your sought-after peace of mind is fleeting. There are clients to be heard, work to done, rent to be paid, and you hate the future for holding the power of expectations over you.
Let's get to work. You're Larry, the hill giant, just chilling in your hill when suddenly you feel an ominous sense of impending doom, as if the entire world is going to collapse and reality is about to end.
"I'm hungry," you say out loud.
You open your giant sack to see if you have any food left. Nope, no food—just a bunch of worthless silver you accidentally got when you ate a merchant.
Well, time to get some bacon. You grab your club and decide where you're going to get your next meal.
> Into the nearby farmland. You could steal a cow. It's pretty safe, but the farmers might get angry.
> Into the forest. You could club a bear, a boar, or a wolf to death and eat it, but you might get harmed.
> Ambush another caravan. With some luck, you can eat a horse, an ox, or a donkey, and put the merchant in your sack.
> Write in. 
Long ago, this continent flourished under the reign of an advanced magical civilization, one whose unparalleled mastery of arcane arts allowed them to command the very forces of the infernal. These sorcerers bound powerful demons to their will, using them as tireless servants and conduits for their magic, reshaping the world with an almost godlike touch.
Yet, their dominance was not eternal. The heavens shifted in a cataclysmic cosmic conjunction—a rare and chaotic alignment of celestial bodies that unleashed devastation upon the land. The intricate bindings that held the demons in servitude shattered like brittle glass, freeing these vengeful entities. With a fury born of centuries of bondage, the demons tore through their former masters and their grand cities, leaving only ruins and death in their wake. The continent, once a beacon of wonder, became a forsaken wasteland haunted by demonic predators.
In the vacuum left behind, other civilizations across the world began to thrive. No longer overshadowed by the oppressive might of the sorcerer-lords, they grew in strength, ingenuity, and independence. The title "Demon Lord," once signifying a mighty magician who ruled with legions of infernal minions, faded into myth.
Generations later, tales of the fallen land's treasures and mysteries lured colonists from a distant western realm. Driven by ambition, desperation, or the promise of glory, they boarded ships and braved the seas to claim these cursed lands as their own. However, they were not fools—they knew the dangers that lurked. Among their number traveled a single, resolute Demon Hunter, sworn to protect the settlers and face the infernal beasts that still prowled the shadows.
That Demon Hunter is you. But who are you, truly?
> Duelist: You are a master of agility and precision, wielding twin blades in a deadly dance. A small crossbow rests on your back, reserved for moments of dire necessity. Armor slows the nimble, so you wear little, relying instead on your speed and skill to outmaneuver both demon and man.
> Arbalest: A sharpshooter of unmatched precision, you carry a colossal crossbow capable of devastating power. Its dual firing modes allow you to strike with singular force or unleash a volley of smaller bolts in rapid succession. Close combat is not your strength, but a short sword at your side provides a last line of defense.
> Peace Priestess: Blessed by divine grace, you walk unharmed among the demonic hordes, shielded by the Goddess’s Pact. As long as you do no harm to any living creature, no demon may lay a hand upon you. You carry no weapons but hold a satchel of healing potions and the knowledge to brew more. Instead of battling demons, you barter with them, offering your own blood in exchange for their magical aid. Yet, mortals are bound by no such covenant, leaving you vulnerable to human threats.
> Write in >Previous Thread
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6136563/
Previously on Alola Quest, Amon G. Sus, trainer extraordinaire, and homeless boy gifted with a 60 day all expenses paid vacation, found himself in a mock Totem Battle against Totem Ribombee! It's Blissey Partner hit the field. Can your Croagunk defeat such an impossible foe?
Croagunk managed to make more of a glancing blow to Blissey but it still hurt. The two back off away from Croagunk and give Croagunk another opportunity to strike. If he's quick.
>Blissey 12/15 hp
>Ribombee 16/20 hp
>What next? >Six sisters peacefully coexist in a house- at least four hours a day, which is when everyone is sleeping.
>No parents. No passive income. Cake is for special days only. The cake is rice with a candle, but with actual salt.
-You are the youngest of the sisters, and also the smallest, by far on both accounts. You can't talk. You can't read or write. But you can, at least, throw silent tantrums.
And your goal is to hold it all together. 
The ISS Halcyon drifts silently through the vast emptiness of deep space, its engines emitting a low, steady hum as it approaches the source of a faint distress beacon. The signal crackles with distortion, warped by radiation and gravity fluctuations, but its origin is clear: the Ark Horizon. Once humanity's greatest triumph in interstellar colonization, the ark was a shining symbol of hope when it launched centuries ago. Now, it’s little more than a ghost ship, drifting perilously close to the event horizon of a black hole.
In the cramped command module of the Halcyon, tension hangs thick in the air. A flickering holographic display casts pale light across the room, illuminating the image of the Ark Horizon—a behemoth nearly a kilometer in length. Its once-pristine hull bears the scars of its decay: dark scorch marks streak its surface, and strange, pulsing organic growths cling to its structure like a disease. The crew exchanges uneasy glances, the weight of their mission settling in.
Commander Elise Kael stands at the center, her presence commanding even in the dim light. Her voice cuts through the silence, firm but not without a trace of unease. “Alright, team. You know the drill. We’re here to investigate the Ark Horizon, figure out what’s going on, and stabilize its course if we can. Our own fuel’s tight, so we need to move quickly. Priority one is restoring navigation.” She pauses, scanning the faces of her team. “And keep your eyes open—something about this doesn’t sit right.”
As if on cue, the airlock hisses open, drawing every gaze toward the newcomer stepping through. Clad in a sleek, state-of-the-art survival suit, the figure moves with quiet purpose. They’re an intelligence officer, recently arrived aboard the Halcyon in an FTL escape pod—a desperate journey that drained nearly all its antimatter reserves. Their sudden arrival and mysterious assignment had already stirred murmurs among the crew.
The officer halts just inside the room, their expression unreadable. In one hand, they hold a small, secure data module. “Commander Kael,” they say, their voice calm and measured, “I’ve been assigned to this mission. My orders are classified, but I need to reach the Ark Horizon’s mainframe and upload this data. That’s all I can tell you.”
Kael studies them for a long moment, her sharp gaze probing for cracks in their composure. Finally, she nods. “You’ll follow my lead once we’re on the Ark Horizon. No going rogue, no surprises. Understood?”
The officer inclines their head in agreement, offering nothing further. The rest of the crew looks on, uneasy but silent. No one speaks as the Halcyon drifts ever closer to the derelict ark, the faint pull of the black hole’s gravity beginning to make its presence known. Whatever secrets the Ark Horizon holds, they’re about to find out. Another night, another job, another chance to let off some steam. This place is all algae in vats and pounding music, neon-stained walls to strobing lightshows, the kind of place up and coming new money goes to mingle with crashing down and falling old money. That guy in the corner? He's violating his NDA, trading trade secrets for a drink - and those two? They don't even work here, they just like to wear the clothes to pretend, maybe overhear some gossip. But you're not here for all that. All the intrigue and slow pulse-pounding joy of the dance and the band can pass you by. You're here for a job. Somewhere in this mess of mingling movers and shakers is a journalist, a source she's hunting and a whole gaggle of goons who'd rather she didn't. Time to dance, Agent. At least you get a bar tap this time... Your name is Cheryl Elmore. You are a Peace Keeper of Panopolis, stationed on level 4, the monetary and human-resource capital of the city, and currently you do not know what to do.
Before you, a man is using his body to keep an older woman cornered. He mentioned some money she owes his “organization”, and then using his straight razor, pantomiming shaving motions on his face, saying what a shame it would be if he slipped and cut her face.
“It would be just like that- whoops! Whoops! Unless you got that money we talked about, maybe I'd be a bit more careful, capisce?”
Is he attacking her? Is this a threat? He isn't directly causing harm but... that poor woman! Your training did not cover this, didn't cover most of the stuff you're dealing with on level 4. Criminal families, extortion, and organized violence. It's nothing like punk culture on Level 5...
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5826377/ 
Your name? Tiara Boobowski, Tiara the Manx, Princess Tiara, whatever, you were supposed to be Sonic's girlfriend but... Honestly you're not sure what happened with that, some dumb thing about "Your zone no longer existing" from some multi colored Sonic Wannabe. It was kind of annoying. You've mainly been slumming it here with your dad for as long as you can remember. It's nice enough, a lot of other people live here, there's some jerk Nack and his sister Nicolette always running around. A lot of folks who look like Sonic or act like Sonic but you know they aren't your Sonic. When you woke up today you didn't expect anything to be much different than normal.
"Good Morning Tiara." your father Gazebo remarks
"Hm." you nod in response, blankly staring out at the bustling city-space overlooking your home. You peer down.
There's a Vector walking hand in hand with a Vanilla, a version of Cream with them, you see an older Tails fly past a younger looking Sonic and... Wait a minute... who is that?
On the street below you see a hooded figure, not too uncommon a sight, any wanderer from any zone could be wearing a hood but something about the energy in this one was... off? If you didn't know any better... You'd think that there was a red glow around them.
"Tiara?" your father asks "Is something the matter?"
> Go down there and investigate guns blazing
> Go down there and investigate, being stealthy
> Leave it be, not your problem. 
With the absurdly long list of people you rescued from prison, you were bound to have some heartfelt reunions. Families were torn apart, romances were put on hold, and friendships were about to be lost to time. But not now, the bittersweetness of mending these bonds taste delicious! Yet, some are built better than others. The reunion of the Strangeloves has been long overdue before you even touched your first flame, and it was as touching as you wished it to be — you can’t imagine how Constance feels. And, well, Oliver and Jaylene, they are… well, not the most anticipated one… But that doesn’t mean it’s undeserving of a nice conclusion.
It isn’t as easy as it sounds. Long ago — after you touched your first flame — the despicable Jaylene invaded this very place (technically not this one, the old clinic) and tried to kidnap the sweet Constance. You had to give your word that Jaylene is Raccoon Tier threat level and friendly at that. One thing led to another, and now you’re learning about Odetta’s medical records through Kata, and in this very tale, a hidden truth has been revealed! The one Judge of enormous ears is related to the rest of the Larsens! Indeed, Esperanza is Jaylene’s aunt! You have no idea how she relates to Agent Spooky, but it might hold some significance!
It’s so obvious looking at her now… Jaylene’s ears are as huge as Esperanza’s! Even the nose is similar!
“We didn’t know Odetta’s name back then, but once we figured it out. My other cousin Heidi made the connection. I took care of Ms. Odetta Larsen here… And my uncle did the same with a poor girl named Esperanza Larsen… She’s your aunt, isn’t she?” Nurse Calamity retells with gusto.
“I-I had another aunt…?” Jaylene can barely keep her mouth shut from this revelation.
“Yeah, another one that you didn’t get to meet because of some freak accident. Great.” Odetta assumes something terrible happened to Esperanza. Which is kind of right!
“Tstststs… Johnny, did your mind get blown away from something else aside from our beauty?” Misty teases you. Seems like she’s spending a lot of time looking at you. “You appear to be a little… distracted.”
Maybe you should bring this up, maybe you should wait for later. Either way, you must say something…
What do you do?
>“I think this is the same Esperanza as the judge…” Reveal to the group. Everyone needs to be on the same page.
>“Sorry, I got distracted. I’ll bring it up later.” Apologize and continue listening to what Kata is saying. There are some spooky mysteries in there waiting to be revealed.
>“Hold on, I need to make sure of something…” Stylize Jaylene’s hair to match Esperanza’s pigtails to make sure 100% that they are related. Passing time with Ms. Cooldown taught you a thing or two.
>Write In. 
With the majority of the Seventh Universe united under the banner of the PTO, Emperor Cooler at its head, the universe has known a time of unrivaled peace. But in the shadows threats have been growing, nursing grudges against the PTO and the Saiyan race in particular. And now those threats are rising, stepping out of the shadows to openly challenge the established order. Seeking nothing short of the destruction of New Salda and the extinction of the entire Saiyan race, can you prevent this outcome? Or will the Saiyan race be reduced to nothing more than memories, their heroes nothing more than ink in the pages of the history books?
You the players will (most often) control Karn; wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul and hope of the entire PTO, not only the Saiyan race. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has grown in power and skill, overcoming the world-ending threats that have come for the Saiyans to become the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759. From the massive Covenant empire to demonic incursions, mad cultists to vengeful gods, none have been strong or clever enough to put down Karn for good. But will one man's power be enough to protect everyone from the rising threats? Or will death come from those who you least expect it from? Your choices may mean the difference between survival and extinction, so choose carefully.
Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM
Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice
>One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun
SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tndKYpPz2RU
REVENGE OF THE BODY SNATCHERS 
The era you're in began thirty years ago, A wealthy businessman by the name of Johan Mezzer, Who had held aspirations of exploring the cosmos had found allies in the political sphere, would be autocrats and industry moguls had agreed to back his ambitions in exchange for the resources they'd needed to carry out their own desires.
And so, through his wealth, His influence as the world's wealthiest man, Humanity was united into the Iron flag federation. And Johan was given the greatest scientists each nation that allowed his influence had to offer in order to research and develop the technology needed to explore the stars.. However, His ambitions outweighed his patience, Corners were cut, The phrase 'good enough' uttered a fair few times too many. Leading to the conditions of the nearspace colonies, And the lunar cities to be barely livable. .
The resulting unrest dug the state of this era an even deeper hole, With Johan developing the deadly 'Mobile suit' technology to suppress the dissident, Even so, A few rebels on the moon managed to capture one of these suits, And replicated it utilizing a ferrous metal found only on the moon for armor plating. These rebels would proceed to drive Mezzer and his budding Spacian nation away . The moon-folk having taken to calling their stretches of cities the 'rabbits colonies' Their own mobile suits, Called 'G-strafers' Valiantly defending their independence from their founder's ends.
This defiance had paved the way for other insurgents in the colonies too far for Mezzer's iron grasp to matter,
New Liberatatia: A veritable navy oh space pirates, Dozens of crews, each with their own desires dreams and ideals, bound together to protect these things from would be oppressors.
And the Colonial separatist union: A more organized group of insurgents that have banded together in an effort to actively liberate the colonies, And create a more permanent, Stable solution to the issues of this era with no hope.
This terminal century
Before we are introduced to our hero, We must take a vote. What faction was he born to? And what is his allegiance at the start? this result will be determined by the first ten replies. 
Section 1: The Outbreak
Jace had never been one for superstition. He’d grown up in a small, sleepy town where the biggest event of the year was the harvest festival. Life was predictable. Until that morning.
He'd been in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee, when the first reports hit the radio. The news anchor’s voice, frantic and shaky, had warned of a rapidly spreading virus. The government wasn’t yet calling it an outbreak, but it wasn’t hard to guess that something was terribly wrong.
"… citizens are urged to stay indoors. Avoid contact with the infected…"
Jace had turned off the radio. It wasn’t the first time a scare like this had been reported. Bird flu, swine flu, the countless outbreaks that always ended in nothing more than empty warnings and public hysteria. But this was different. The strange look in his neighbor’s eyes, the unnatural stumble of a woman down the street, something wasn’t right.
By noon, the world was already changing. Sirens began wailing, emergency broadcasts flooded every channel. By 3 PM, it was clear: the virus had spread rapidly across the country, and it wasn’t just another flu.
Jace’s phone buzzed. It was a message from Sarah, his girlfriend of three years.
"Jace, I’m scared. I’m at my apartment, I don’t know what’s happening. Please come get me." 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. 
You are the leader of a group of monsters trying to survive in a land overrun by adventurers. These adventurers, skilled and powerful, hunt down any creature in their path. The world around you is dangerous, not just because of the heroes, but because of the harsh environment itself, where monsters like you are seen as obstacles or targets.
As the leader, it's your job to keep your group alive. With limited strength and resources, you must outsmart the adventurers who want to destroy you. Whether it's hiding, using the terrain, or relying on your companions' skills, every decision counts.
You're not just a leader, but a strategist and protector. Your group looks to you for guidance in a world where they're outclassed, outnumbered, and hunted. The odds are against you, but with cleverness and resilience, you might survive long enough to show that even the weakest monsters deserve to live.
Are you
> a warchief
> a shaman
> a matriarch
> a beastmaster
What kind of monsters are you
> goblin
> kobold
> gnoll
> lizardfolk
And where is your lair
> abandoned mine
> cave system
> forest
> mountains Last one didn't go too well. We can always try again.
I still only wanna run civilized races, but I'll tweak the system a bit, it was kinda clonky last time.
Select race and biome from the picture. 
Prologue.
====
You are Nathan Drake. An ordinary person. Ordinary looks, ordinary life. At least, you think so, because you can’t remember.
No, not that Nathan Drake from the video games. You’re from Earth, so you know the reference.
You can’t remember anything else. As you open your eyes, you find yourself lying on the grass. You’re in the middle of a forest. The sun mercilessly shines over your face, prompting you to get up. It must be around midday.
How unlucky. You can’t remember anything, and you don’t know where you are.
Where are you? You look around. Tall aspens with white bark and golden leaves tower over you. And though the sky still looks like it’s summertime, you wager it must be fall, since the leaves have already turned.
You feel thirsty. Instinctively, you get up and start walking. One direction leads deeper into the woods. The other, towards a clearing. A way out of the forest, heading into an open area. As you’re still a bit disoriented, you can’t be sure of your location.
You start looking yourself over. You’re wearing a pair of jeans, sneakers and a shirt. Nothing out of the ordinary. An odd thing occurs to you however… but before you can figure out exactly what it is, a voice interrupts you.
“Hey you!”
====
==The following quest is a work of fiction. Any and all similarities to characters, groups or entities in real life are purely *laughs* coincidental.==
==Rules==
This will be a lighthearted Quest inspired by video games/movies, and classic choose-your-own adventure novels…
Note: The quest may move rapidly at the beginning, and during certain times. However, I’ll give major events and choices at least half a day to a day or so, so everyone can throw their vote in.
RNG will be kept to a minimum. Players need only to worry about a few things. One mechanic is Luck. Sometimes, the players will be given choices to either test their luck in a given situation or not. You will learn more about this eventually.
The choice with the most support is taken.
Some events have an opportunity for write-ins. The write-in with the most support is taken.
Some events with write-ins, players can write their own dialogue ideas (asking questions, actions, observations, reactions.)
Warning: May contain violence, explicit language, suggestive themes.
Enjoy.
==== 
Your name is Johan, a taxi driver that unfortunately attracted the strange and bizarre. And you were currently on a date. Or what may as well be one.
A certain playful and mischievous mime, whom you happened to meet by chance a couple of days ago in a carnival, was sitting on a chair close to your own, you were both on a table for two. Her name is Mimi. The two of you seemed to bond well, despite not knowing each other for long. This may not be much of a surprise, considering you escaped a fiery inferno with her.
"Johan?"
And yet, here your mind strangely wandered. It went to the past, one perhaps not too far away. You recalled a melancholy smile that greeted you, a woman with golden hair, and a box filled with ammunition.
"Johan!" a hand's waving calls you back to reality. You stare at a fair skinned young woman, two green eyes stare back at you with some concern. A frown adorns her thin lips.
"My apologies," you said "I must've been lost in thought."
It was a bad habit of yours to do that. You hoped it didn't mean anything serious. Perhaps you should start eating more...
You both smile at each other, and she giggles silently. A thought emerged--why did she tend to be so quiet? She was energetic in basically all other things.
You push the thought aside as you dig into your mean. The food was, some cinnamon bagels and coffee, quite nice. The coffee in particular was spectacular, the aftertaste didn't leave much to waste. Much better than that sandwich from earlier. Did she not consume your uneaten half of it? A rather rude act. Then again you did begin eating without her, no? Nonetheless, it seemed like she didn't have many qualms about sharing food and eating before others arrived.
A pleasant silence befalls you both. You think about something to talk with her about.
>"So, you work here part-time?" A relatively safe topic.
>"I've noticed you're pretty dedicated to being a mime. What got you into it?" You could get a better look into her personality this way.
>"How are you feeling?" She looks fine today, but last you saw her her eyes seemed tired and sad about the place she pantomimed in going up in flames.
>Write-in. 
Your grandfather was an adventurer and your father ressented him for it, because he was never at home. He didn't want you to become an adventurer, rather wanted you to tend to the family farm. But one day when you found a chest with some equipment from your grandfather, you realized you had to go out in an adventure!
You found (Choose one):
> A +1 dagger and a handful of minor healing potions
> A Shadowed Leather Armor +1 that subtly blends into shadows, granting a +2 bonus to Stealth checks.
> A Cloak of Protection (+1 AC and saving throws) and a lantern that glows brightly for 8 hours per day without fuel.
> A Bow of Precision, a +1 longbow that grants advantage on attack rolls made at long range.
> An Arcane Compass, a magical compass that points toward the nearest source of magic. Also functions as a spellcasting focus.
> A Dagger of Returning, a +1 dagger enchanted to return to your hand immediately after being thrown.
> Write in (one or more magical items worth no more than 1,500 gold)
All your life you've been preparing for this moment, in a sense. For you trained to become:
> A Fighter
> A Rogue
> A Sorcerer
You decide to depart on that very night, without warning, so that your father doesn't get a chance to convince you to stay.
Besides your findings, you have 100 silver with you.
Which direction do you want to travel?
> North, to the port city of Maphys where you could take a ship elsewhere
> South, to Fort Darkrock on the frontier with the elvish kingdom
> West, to the mining city of Krok near the mountains full of monsters
> East, to the walled city of Dagoba, the capital of the kingdom
> Write in
Also decide if male or female, pick a name for yourself and assign your attributes (they all start at 8 and you have 27 points to distribute. Atributes higher than 14 cost 2 points). 
Ionia, a land of unspoiled beauty and tranquillity. The First Lands are not a single continent, but a vast archipelago of many great islands. Here, the barrier between the physical realm and the world of the spirits is thin. The people who dwell here do not plunder the land for all of its wealth, in an effort to satisfy their greed. Instead, the inhabitants of Ionia bend to the will of nature and make humble requests of it in return. They do not build their own houses, they petition the spirits of great trees to grow in such a way that they might shelter their families. They do not quarry for stone or mine for metal, instead they only take that which the land is willing to provide to them. By living in harmony with Ionia and the spirits that rule over it, the Ionians lead peaceful and prosperous lives, devoid of senseless violence and vice, free to pursue enlightenment and true mastery of themselves.
Deva'le is a humble village, one of many that exist along the length of the great river of Navori, that flows through the province from the mountains in the north to the ocean to the south. The settlement rests in a lush and fertile valley, between towering hills that reach for the heavens, great crags that were sundered by an ancient conflict. Here, a hundred families enjoy the bounty provided by a tributary of the great river, and live truly tranquil lives. As long as they live in harmony with the spirits of the land, they shall never know suffering. This is what they believe with all of their hearts, as do most other Ionians.
You are Nayen, a young man born and raised in Deva'le. You know almost nothing of life outside of the valley that the village calls home, and truly nothing about the wider world beyond the shores of Ionia. Yet out of all of the boys of your generation, you are the one of the few who possessed potential. The village elders identified your talents while you were still young and sought to train you, so that you might best serve your people and the myriad spirits of Ionia.
Now that you are of age, what have you become?
>A wind-weaver. You have been taught the graceful dances that please the spirits of the wind and allow you to bend the weather to your will, to bless your village with clear skies during the day and nourishing rain during the night.
>A beast-speaker. You have achieved a oneness with the animals that call Ionia home. You are able to commune with them and earn their favour, to master them in a fashion that does not anger the patron spirits of these beasts.
>A steel-shaper. You have studied the five elements and the bonds between them. By honouring these fundamental forces, you are able to forge truly marvellous tools that will stand the test of time and serve your people well.
>A mischief-maker. You shunned your teachers and have no reverence for the spirits. You do not have the favour of Ionia, nor do you have any mystical abilities, but you are free, unbound by the dogma that shackles most Ionians. 
The Void is infinite. It is perfect Entropy, bringing an end to all eventualities.
Chaos and Order, Time and Space, Life and Death. All are extinguished.
Inside its vastness, there's no possibility of anything existing. Yet...
Sometimes, something does.
A new bubble has emerged. In its paradoxical, protective shell, a new reality is taking shape.
You are one of its shapers. Most would call you a god and most would be correct. The power to create or destroy is yours to use as you see fit. Just remember, the bubble is more fragile than it seems, and for all of your differences, you and your fellow gods are an existential family.
>God Sheet
>Name: Your chosen identity. This can be anything, including a title or nothing, but nicknames from others are likely.
>Visage: Your chosen physical form. This has no effect besides first impressions.
>Goal: Your plans for this reality. While this also has no direct effect, it's probably important to you.
>Domains: The concepts you have control over. Choose 1-5. They, too, can be anything. The more you have, the thinner spread you'll be.
It's been too long since a god game and I figure New Year's is as good a time as any to start a new one! There will be some crunch but not much. Major Updates will be weekly. I'll be accepting gods until Saturday. This should be fun to see. INSTRUCTIONS:
Select a name, color, and location to start playing
type "dice+1d9999" to roll the dice for your number of attacks or defenses
You Will receive a BONUS for every PROVENCE you completely occupy
>inb4
Unlimited Water Travel is allowed 
Ilvermorny Quest continues!
Last time, the girls made it to America, got a cool car, started making friends, got in fights with big spiders, discovered a disconcerting fact of their ancestry, and send three guys to the hospital!
Rules and character sheet: https://rentry.co/uoq4puv3
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=ilvermorny
New non-canon lewd-fic: https://rentry.co/4iehi5w8
--
Herbology was taught… well with a name like Lief, you didn’t really expect a black fellow. Half black?
Whatever.
An older black looking guy with a shiny bald head, aside from a bit of iron colored hair kept short around the sides.
“Hello students. Another beautiful day to get some time outside! Today? We will be looking at the plant used for patients having trouble feeding themselves, and also makes for some good elote once you take the teeth out; Macerating Maize. Blonde British girls! You missed class before; did you do your reading?”
“Yeah… yes sir.”
“Good, since you and that mirror image will be demonstrating how to pick these things, after a quick example by myself, after our lecture; be sure to wear your gloves.”
“Ah. Excellent. Corn with teeth. Fantastic.”
--
After a short lecture, you were out in the fields with the older black man showing you and the rest of the class a small patch of… well it just looked like corn up until he brought up a small stick and had the tip of it bitten off by a set of white kernels that were suddenly there after the green leaves that covered up the maize opened up.
Why did every thing in America have fangs?! Even some of the rabbits did!
Following a quick demonstration of how to grab the corn silk to paralyze the things, the Professor set you and the rest of the class to work harvesting them.
Emmy… she ended up discovering a different way to get the cobs off the stalk when she got her finger bitten and punched the offending maize hard enough it went flying across the garden.
Alright… maybe doing this high and coked up was not the greatest idea.
Regardless, you only got nipped once when you and Aubrey worked together to get a few cobs… she had obviously done this before.
Did she really take summer classes just to be with her friends? Perform her prefect duties? Keep an eye on Travis? She… she sounded lonely when you thought of it that way.
“Doing okay, Jenn? I don’t know if they have these over in Bongland.”
“Better than my sister. And no; never studied these before. You have, right?”
“Yep! A lot of the summer stuff is remedial or extra practice. Been picking these since first year.”
“Then why do you do it? You know all this stuff already.” The wretch stumbles through the woods, branches scratching at his face, as he tries not to trip on a root or large stone. The pangs of hunger are driving him mad. It is not easy to hunt squirrels and rats with a club and he has eaten the last of his acorns and berries.
It is very dark here. Hardly anything can be seen. A glint of moonlight upon metal catches the wastrel's eye, and he spots a figure in the shadows, unaware of his presence. Surely this will be an easy fight?
You sneak up upon the unexpecting foe! [bold]Roll 1d12[/bold]
Choose an attack.
> Strike him on the head
> Push him to the ground
> (Suggest) You are Runner. This is your room. You get the feeling that a notable incident is going to occur today. 
ITQ you will buy and sell goods, find a place to live, basic Jobs, and things to do to live through a zombie apocalypse. Zombies are slow. Plenty of things can maim or kill you. Zombie bites can be treated, but there are side effects, or you may screw it up and die. So let's avoid that, OK?
You stand in line among several other people, anonymous faces, you didn't count them. You've not seen them before. Some in shoes, some barefoot, one with a blood stained spear, and all of you dirty and unwashed in the cool of the last day of December. You're on the outskirts Northwest of Houston in the shell of what was an old big box store, in the Greens Point area (Guns Point as the locals say). The proprietor has a fan blowing across the line of you, and he has been good enough to put up a pop-up tent outside the entrance to shield everyone from the sunlight, but it's stuffy with all of you crowded together and waiting. On either side of the Line, are cages full of dead eyed ghouls, locked in for now, but watching you.
The Merchant calls out "Next" and you step up with your goods. You walk up to a bullet proof Plexiglass window with a pass through container, and big sign over the glass stating:
>The outbreak was started on borrowed money, No Credit.
You are yourself, just yourself. Your actions are your own choice, but the outcome is determined by post ID roll.
Roll for your saleable goods layout by final digit.
Subsequent rerolls to determine simple value, 2nd to last digit = quantity, final digit of simple pass fail 1-5 poor, 6-0 good
1-backpack of junk, can be sorted for valuables
2-live wild animal, must be examined to determine value
3-Clothing, must be checked for damage
4-Food, may be packaged or raw
5-Contraban: cigarettes, alcohol, pornography, drugs
6-Weapons: may be functional, broken parts
7-Ammunition: may be boxed or loose, good or bad
8-Medicine: may be prescription or over the counter
9-Chemicals: wet or dry, labeled packaged or not
0-information: he may or may not care
Doubles= special item
poor items are worth 1/2 head, good items are worth 1 head
Your ID characters, in order, determine the quality of your starting gear
>Head
>Backpack
>Chest
>Arms
>Pants
>Belt
>Shoes
>Weapon
Letter=Nothing
Number=common variety, used condition
Symbol=Superior variety and New Condition
>IMPORTANT
>[Returning Players, please use your old name from the previous game, if you want to keep your progress, and so I'll know it's you. New players, go as big as you like with your character, I write fairly in depth scenes to keep the game interesting. You can die, but I'm not out to get you. I play as the Merchant, and narrate the game. If you want to talk IRL, ask a question, or suggest something, use these square brackets [ ], so I'll know. Welcome]
See previous chapters
>>6046391
>>6087641
>>6128116 1: A Dangerous City
You are a Private Detective living in Victorian London.
Crimes are common and you are frequently called upon to assist the policemen in Scotland Yard. You have been a Detective for a few years now and by combining hard work with intelligence you have had a few successes in uncovering the information that has enabled the Police to arrest wanted criminals. This has earned you a good Reputation but you must be careful not to lose it: if you do Scotland Yard will no longer trust you to help them.
One evening you are at home when Commissioner James Monro, an experienced Policeman, visits you.
"We would like your help again," he tells you. "A lunatic murderer called James Kelly escaped from Broadmoor Asylum for the Criminally Insane ten days ago. My detectives have investigated and found no trace of him. Perhaps if you look into the case you might be able to find something?”
What do you do?
REPUTATION is 3.
A) Search for the escaped killer
B) Turn down this case 
The cough comes out silent this time, it's timbre lost among a sea of sounds, the moaning too. There to the left girls are beating deerskin drums barehanded. Young naked women run around and shriek a song on a forgotten dialect, filling the air with potent dread that alarms the heart to beat faster. The trusts gain vigor. The wives are to the right and guide a stallion in estrus, yoked in a plow that pulls through the barren stony earth, they encourage and tease the animal while it shows its frustrated strength, they mock it whenever the plow slows down and give his member a few jerks for encouragement to go faster again...
The men are wind beaten and watch from afar down there at the beach, where the ship waits patiently, after all too much masculine energy will disrupt the synergy of the feminine ceremony.
A fire rises swinging in all directions, it's almost dawn, it needs to be fed more to match the upcoming sun.
In the center of all this mad cacophony a man and woman become one, naked and bruised, moaning and grunting, they lay under a pregnant mare held in place by old crones, all in order to create a life. And behold! In reaching their peak a crone splits the belly of the mare and profound quantity of liquid goes all over the two lovers. All that is female in attendance stops it's doings and howls a hair raising shriek, the ceremony is complete. There, covered in bright red arterial blood, covered in dark venous blood, covered in placenta and guts the two beloved are as if wed again and kiss most tenderly. The woman's messy white hair is now red and sticky with coagulating blood, she takes great care in not spilling the seed inside of her and raises crossed legs on the carcass of the dead animal. Somewhere in the far distance Thor approves with a thunder, she caresses the hammer resting on her breast.
A short cough, and she announces "From this day forth I, Rannveig, will no longer be known as Purple-Eyed, but Blood Bride! The bride of my noble jarl... " 
You are Malkuth, a necromancer bound by duty and ambition, serving a master consumed by the quest for eternal life. This dark figure, driven by the allure of lichdom, has uncovered tantalizing rumors of a lost tome: The Art of Phylactery Manufacture. This ancient grimoire, said to contain the secrets of crafting a lich’s eternal vessel, disappeared when an arcane library deep in the desert was ransacked centuries ago. Your master, unwilling to let such a prize elude him, has entrusted you with the mission to recover the book—at any cost.
To ensure your success, he offers you a choice from his treasury of magical artifacts. Each staff is a masterpiece of necromantic power, attuned to different forms of undeath:
> The Staff of Bones, amplifying your control over skeletal warriors. With it, you could command a disciplined army of 100 skeletons, their sharpened blades and shields unyielding in battle.
> The Staff of Decay, allowing you to dominate 200 zombies. Their relentless, shambling forms would overwhelm foes with sheer numbers and tireless resolve.
> The Staff of Shadows, granting mastery over 50 shadowy wraiths. These silent, spectral assassins strike unseen, dragging their victims into darkness.
Also decide if you are male or female and your name. The first thing you are aware of as you gain consciousness is that you are lying face down on a gritty sidewalk. The second is that four people are around you, looking concerned and asking if you are okay.
Are you? It takes you a second to get your bearings.
Who are you?
>Please Choose a gender
>Please Create a name. You are a human being living in a mid sized city in the southwest United States.
>Please Carefully assign these five dice (D4, D6, D8, D10, and D12) to these stats (HP, STRENGTH, INTELLIGENCE, DEXTERITY, CHARISMA).
>Please Care about one of these things more than the rest (Art, Literature, Film, Cooking) 
You're the leader of a barbarian tribe that recently found a new continent full of ancient catacombs filled with loot. Though there is some weak undead in there, it has been a breeze to acquire the loot, it is just that there is an awful lot of it.
But on your third trip to the island to grab loot, you find a bunch of wizards snooping around. You promptly attack them, but the damn wizards are crafty, they use their ranged spells to murder many men ten times better than them with their cowardly witchcraft.
You cannot allow those wizards to keep breathing, you must put an end to their magic. Worse still, some useless trinkets from the ruins seem to empower greatly the wizards, making them even more dangerous.
One of your men discovers that if we break the artifacts, crush them to powder and snort the powder, we gain a temporary powerful boost in battle!
So now we have a good reason to collect all those trinkets!
You have two boats, 40 men on the island and 200 food (each 1 food is food for one man for one day).
The trip between your home and the island takes 1 week, so if you send for reinforcements, they will take at least 14 days to arrive.
What do you do?
> Gather food
> Raid a catacomb for loot
> Raid a catacomb for magic trinkets
> Search for the wizards to put an end to their misery
> Write in
You estimate there are still over 1,000 catacombs unexplored in the island.
You can divide your men and send them to do different tasks.
Roll 3d100 for each group doing a task.
Name leader and select if male or female. I feel like running a civ thread, but I want to run one with civilized races. You may pick amongst the races from the picture only. Time for another civilization quest! But first, I need to know what kind of civilization game do you want to play, so please answer the following questions. 
The quest for the Gems of Power consumed your master's entire existence. His life revolved around collecting ancient tomes about these mystical artifacts and gathering resources for endless expeditions. The gems became his obsession, his curse.
When he finally uncovered the location of the first gem, bitter disappointment awaited him. The precious stone rested in the possession of Archmage Mykor, a wizard whose reputation for power was matched only by his desire for solitude.
Your master refused to let decades of research go to waste. He spent months preparing, strengthening both mind and body, before challenging Mykor to a duel for the gem. The Archmage declined repeatedly, but your master's relentless assassination attempts finally forced his hand.
You were there the day of the duel. You witnessed your master's final moments as Mykor's awesome powers reduced him to ash. The Archmage, weary of the bloodshed, declared he would accept no further challenges. The gem, he announced, would either be destroyed or hidden beyond mortal reach to prevent such madness from claiming more lives.
Years have passed since that day. Your master's estate was sold to settle his mountainous debts, leaving you nothing but a chest of worn books. You've kept them in your merchant's wagon as you traveled the trading routes, building a modest but honest living.
Yet the Gems of Power remained a persistent whisper in your thoughts. Then one day, while studying your master's old texts, you solved a riddle that revealed the location of the Fire Gem. It lay hidden on a frozen island in the far north, deep in barbarian territory.
Now, as you stare at the decoded message, you know your life as a merchant must end. Your master's quest calls to you, demanding completion. The search for the Gems of Power beckons once again! 
Your village was a quiet, humble place nestled in the shadow of a mountain, known for its verdant fields and peaceful way of life. The villagers were simple folk—farmers, shepherds, and artisans who lived in harmony with the land. Everyone knew one another, and festivals were celebrated with laughter and song. But in the weeks leading up to the fateful night, something had begun to shift. Strange figures cloaked in shadow were seen near the outskirts, livestock began to disappear, and mutilated remains were discovered in the woods. A sense of unease settled over the community, though no one could have imagined the horrors to come.
The attack came on a moonless night, shrouded in unnatural darkness. Villagers were roused by clanging bells and guttural chants, and flames erupted from the square where hooded figures gathered around a glowing rune circle. Their leader, a gaunt man with glowing red eyes and a voice like the echo of the abyss, raised a wicked blade and declared the dawn of a new age. Cultists moved methodically, dragging people from their homes to the square. Resistance was met with brutal efficiency—those who fought were slaughtered or subdued with dark magic. Helpless, you watched as your neighbors were bound in a massive spiral around the runic circle. The leader began chanting, his voice rising as each villager was sacrificed, their blood feeding the glowing runes. The air grew thick with sulfur, and the ground trembled. When the final scream faded, the circle erupted in a column of fire, and from it emerged a monstrous entity—a towering demon wreathed in flame and shadow. Its presence was overwhelming, and with a wave of its massive hand, the entire village was engulfed in hellfire. Homes, crops, and people were consumed in moments. Friends and loved ones burned before your eyes as the cultists laughed and walked willingly into the flames to join their master.
Amid the chaos, you remembered the old tunnel beneath the chapel, used long ago by clergy to escape danger. In the confusion, you broke free and sprinted to the chapel, flames licking your heels as the inferno raged around you. You pushed aside a loose stone slab behind the altar and plunged into the narrow, pitch-black passage, choking on smoke and fear. The screams of the dying faded behind you until there was only silence. When you emerged hours later, you collapsed, staring at the distant glow of your village’s destruction. You were at the village farms tilling the soil in preparation for the sowing when a giant black flying lizard descends from the sky. Mounted on it there is this guy in a dark armor and cloak. He says in a spectral voice "I've come for the tribute!", then his lizard grabs a couple girls and he flies away.
You wouldn't give two shits about it, but one of the girls he grabbed was your crush and the other was your cousin! I mean, both were your cousins, but only one was your crush.
Infuriated, you decide that you're going on an epic journey to get your cousins back.
Right now you just have a hoe and no money to your name though. The hoe isn't even yours.
What do you do?
> Find a stout club and go raid a dungeon for riches, you hear adventurers do it all the time
> Consult the village elders for guidance on your new adventure
> Join a group of brigands for equipment and training
> Write in ROUND 41:
>The Menace takes NC without contest and donates the remainder of his roll of (40) and then donates his remaining (33) moves to the Cannibals who attack the Emu's (33) vs (8)
>The Ayys make no roll, so the fellowship gives up their own roll have them progress (29) spaces. 
You were a black dragon, a terror that haunted the dreams of mortals, your presence alone enough to drive entire regions to despair. The adventurers who dared invade your lair were no match for your might. Their swords clanged harmlessly off your scales, and their magic fizzled like raindrops against a roaring fire. One by one, you dispatched them, your strength undeniable even as their blows left painful scars across your body. The last one, the leader, lay at your feet, gasping his final breath. His defiance burned brighter than his life force. "You will pay for all those girls you kidnapped," he rasped, blood trickling from his lips. "If not in this life, then the next!"
You sneered, the sound like distant thunder. "Your curses are as pitiful as your swordsmanship." With a swift, merciless strike, you silenced him, his body falling limp in a pool of crimson. Turning, you prepared to bask in your victory and indulge in the spoils of your conquest—the captives you’d taken, trembling in the shadows. But before you could take a step, a blinding light illuminated the cavern, its radiance cutting through the darkness.
From the golden glow emerged the avatar of the elf goddess. Her form was ethereal, her silver hair flowing as if caught in a divine breeze, and her emerald eyes burned with righteous fury. You let out a growl, the deep rumble echoing off the cavern walls. "What do you want?" you demanded, your voice weary yet laced with venom. "I’ve had enough interruptions for one day."
"Return the girls, dragon," she commanded, her tone unyielding, "or I will see to it that you are punished."
A low chuckle escaped your maw. "You’re not supposed to meddle in mortal affairs, goddess. Stick to your forests and let me enjoy my spoils. The god of dragons will hear of this interference."
For a moment, the goddess hesitated, doubt flickering in her eyes. But her resolve solidified, her voice ringing out like a blade striking steel. "Your atrocities cannot go unanswered. You will know the suffering you’ve inflicted."
"Wait," you began, raising a claw, "perhaps we can—"
But the goddess’s spell was already upon you. Pain seared through your body, and a blinding flash consumed your senses. When it cleared, the cool breeze of the forest replaced the stifling heat of your lair. You opened your eyes, disoriented, and found yourself lying on the forest floor, naked and vulnerable. Gone were your scales and wings, your towering form and fiery breath. You looked down in disbelief, seeing soft, pale skin and human hands.
Rage and panic surged through you. The god of dragons will hear of this, you vowed silently. But first, you had to survive. The forest around you teemed with unfamiliar sounds, and every rustle in the underbrush felt like a potential threat. Your new form was weak, fragile, and unprotected. 
Previously on Breadwinner Adventurer Quest:
>You escorted Helmod, a blind old man with a tragic past, to the Oracle of the Moon
>Along the way, you fought off a deadly and unnatural creature with a barbed tail and a human face
>Having completed your task, you decided to return with your earnings to your home in Hobley
>You encountered the party of Odneyn the Otter on the road, who appears to be going to the same place
Although you could easily lie and send them wandering off in the complete opposite direction, you decide not to impose your own personal grudges with the reeve on a group of complete strangers. Remarking that Odneyn's reputation precedes him, and that you would be happy to guide him and his company to what is, in fact, your own destination, you take your position at the front and start leading the way.
You quickly get a sense of their various personalities: Odneyn is unspoken leader, easy-going in his manner, and gregarious to a fault. He chatters away to no one in particular about the travails of the road, the beauty of the countryside, even a rather heated debate on the virtues of hounds versus housecats (Odneyn is firmly in the hound camp, while his bald companion violently insists on the superiority of the feline).
The others are more reserved, with varying motivations for their reticence. The woman in white seems to regard it as beneath her to participate in such mundane discourse. Her younger attendant tries to emulate her mistress, but you catch her smiling once or twice at Odneyn's more comical refrains. The Suthermann, on the other hand, is silent because his entire attention seems to be spent scanning the dimly lit environs of the road, as though he expects an ambush any minute now. He is very different from the Suthermann you met in the mountain, not nearly as unnerving in his bearing and lacking those strange glowing eyes and the smooth, ageless visage. If not for the long white hair you would not have even recognized him as a member of his race. Finally, the mousy man with the bow seems completely content to just listen and watch, only breaking his silence to offer a sardonic comment or two. You get the impression that nothing escapes his notice, it is all being scrolled away in some mental ledger for later use.
Eventually, Odneyn exhausts his store of conversation and falls silent--with still a ways to go on the road. Now would be the perfect time to bring up some matters of your own and seek Odneyn's counsel. He is after all quite well-travelled. You could ask about the strange coins you received from Samuel Longsword, or the unnatural beast you fought on the mountain. Or perhaps it is wiser to hold your tongue and keep your own counsel. 
You are Noel Tiberius di Hazaran, the warrior-queen of the mountain kingdom whose name you share by birth. And this is what you hope will be your last return to the land where you and the rest of those who share your blood and your training were created. ‘Enhanced’ with the blood of monstrous yōma at a young age, you and the other survivors of that process completed a brutal training regimen meant to turn you into the ultimate monster-hunters.
That is what you were told, and as the truth has come out that was not entirely false. Certainly you always knew that the Organization was suspect, but learning that they had your father overthrown and killed to ensure that you had nowhere else to turn was eye-opening. That was even before you started to learn even more about what they had been doing – creating the very monsters you were ostensibly meant to destroy, deliberately pushing its own warriors to the edge of emotional collapse, and eliminating potential troublemakers. They had wanted to create a warrior with powerful yōki and regenerative abilities, but who they could control to use against their enemies.
Now you’re on the verge of pushing them out of your homeland, apparently once and for all, with the surprise invasion of their last major facility on the island of Lavinia. Two of the moving parts for that invasion plan fell into place the way they were meant to, with a raiding party of your own kind slipping ashore to mark targets for two armed corvettes that sailed in behind you, also under cover of night.
The third prong, an infantry push into the hills overlooking your enemy’s last port in the region so that a number of modern mortar teams could hit targets that the corvettes might miss due to their firing angle. After helping to get that infantry advance back on track, you’ve arrived on a hilltop that has a view down onto the port – specifically, you can see several locations where your enemy has cover against the shelling from the waterfront, and has begun a counterattack.
“Well,” you muse aloud, “we can’t have that now can we?”
You turn to Cameron, the senior officer among this formation of soldiers. “You can see those positions from here, correct?”
Sometimes it’s hard for you to judge – since your vision, especially in the dark, is so much keener than a normal human’s is.
Cameron nods. “I see the flashes, yes. But I can’t judge the range.”
“I can do that for you,” you assure him. “I want each crew to focus their efforts on a single position. When they hit their target I want a callout, if they miss their target with their remaining rounds I want a callout for that too. Go ahead of me and let them all know, I’ll be following after.”
>1/2 
You are Uzumaki Naori, formerly a member of the mercenary organization Akatsuki, now the ‘great Sage’ of the Hidden Rain and of the ancient Shrike clan. After turning against that organization due to a difference in moral compasses – you had one and too many of the Akatsuki did not – you faced many strong enemies in the span of one extraordinary year. That year ended with you facing the awakened Ōtsutsuki Kaguya-hime alone, a duel in which a single misstep could cost your life and quite possibly the freedom of every single living person in the world.
Now, more than a decade after the end of the old Akatsuki largely at the edge of your blade, the top-level terrorist organization of the day is Kara. Divided into the ‘Inners’ off the organization proper and the ‘Outers’ who serve as their business associates, Kara has kept a far lower profile than Akatsuki ever intended to.
Your daughter Makoto has long been helping your village as it’s spearheaded the effort to deal with the Outers, dragging them out into the light for judgment, while your son Shiki almost seems like your favorite kind of ‘lucky idiot’. He played an outsized role in the defeat and capture of an Inner, the foul-tempered artificial woman named Delta, as well as securing the peaceful surrender of a former Inner going by the name Ōga. You should probably be teasing him more about the fact that he’s somehow managed to weasel his way into the good graces of the only two female members of Kara that you know of, but there will be plenty of time for that later. After all, it’s more important in your mind to finish cleaning up after your own generation’s messes while you’re still in your prime.
“Are there any other targets?” you press.
Kashin Koji, an enhanced clone of the legendary toad-sage Jiraiya, is apparently part of some kind of internal schism within the organization and therefore represents your best avenue for advancing against them. After besting him in a fight, he event seems to be cooperative.
“There are plenty of people who have been given advanced prosthetics,” Koji tells you. “If you wanted to go for some kind of ‘clean sweep’ you could target them. But aside from that… there are two. I’m not certain about them however.”
“Why not?” Fū asks.
“Because they were meant to be ‘decomissioned’ by Boro some time ago,” Koji clarifies with a slight frown. “I know I always suspected he could not do so the way Jigen intended.”
“… why not?” Sasori repeats.
>1/? 
After years spent braving dark dungeons, traversing treacherous wilderness, and uncovering ancient mysteries, you’ve decided it’s time to lay down your sword, hang up your cloak, and leave the life of constant danger and adventure behind. The allure of gold, glory, and thrilling discoveries no longer calls to you as it once did. Instead, a new dream has taken root in your heart—a dream of stability, solitude, and the opportunity to finally focus on the passions you’ve long deferred in favor of survival.
You’ve begun to search for the perfect place to build a tower that will serve as both your sanctuary and your workshop. No longer will you be interrupted by roving bandits or called upon to fight the battles of kings. Here, in this haven of your own creation, you’ll have the peace and quiet needed to conduct experiments, study ancient texts, and perhaps even craft marvels of magic or technology that will one day leave their mark on the world. The dream of settling down doesn’t mean abandoning your adventurous spirit entirely—it simply means channeling it into a new form, one defined by discovery and creation rather than combat and peril.
But finding the right location for your tower is no simple task. It must be isolated enough to grant you the tranquility you crave yet close enough to civilization to ensure access to supplies, apprentices, or the occasional visitor curious about the wisdom of a retired adventurer. It might stand atop a windswept cliff overlooking the sea, a testament to your resilience, or rise proudly from a dense forest where the whispers of nature will accompany your work. Perhaps you’ll claim a piece of history, building upon the ruins of an ancient keep, imbuing the stones with the knowledge and magic of a new age.
Whatever you choose, this will be more than just a home—it will be a monument to your legacy, a place where the next chapter of your life begins. For though your adventuring days may be behind you, your greatest achievements may still lie ahead.
===
Select a Biome, a Population level and a Danger level.
Biomes:
> Mountain
> Forest
> Coastal
> Swamp
> Plains
> Desert
> Tundra
> Jungle
> Volcanic
> Underground
Population Level:
> Low
> Medium
(you're not interested in a heavily populated area)
Danger Level:
> Low
> Medium
> High 
In the parched, rocky desert, where dry winds blow dust from one hill to another, there was a gnoll.
You, the gnoll, were a slave. You scarcely remembered the time when you weren't. A trial of power lost and your fate sealed by the leader of the pack was everything you could gather from your early years. You were weak then.
Years of labour in the copper mines and oasis farms made you strong. Those that couldn't become strong didn't survive here.
In your time at this and several other work camps, you learned some things from fellow gnolls that could be useful in later life... (pick up to 2 skills or none at all)
>You were not allowed a weapon, but you learned from a disgraced martial artist the traditional gnoll ways of combat. (You learned barehanded close quarters combat used against both armed and unarmed enemies)
>You learned from a priest, branded and enslaved for malicious magic, the heresy of Razzalbewz - the worship of demons and the basic seals that grant its warriors their strength. It has been spreading in the past decades among the gnolls, but the old faith remains strong. (You learned seals - signs associated with demonic lords that, when worn with a cloth, cut or otherwise born on the body, grant supernatural powers. It is, however, a dangerous craft, working with powers many civilizations consider evil...)
>You learned the craft of storytelling and bargaining from a traveller that visited even human lands, enslaved upon returning to his homeland for betrayal of the pack. You enhanced this ability by trading stories with other gnolls. (You will be a decent talker, capable of negotiating even with men that would otherwise kill you.)
>Write-in?
Through luck and perseverance, you lived to escape enslavement. The rebellion was quick and brutal. Seizure of ill-protected blades from guards, deep in the night. Murder of the slavers. Looting of the camp. Then, freedom. The gnoll slaves scattering, like desert winds.
What did you loot, if anything, from the guards? (as previously, pick up to 2)
>A weapon. Gnoll weapons are a crude craft, but they do their job. (specify what kind of weapon. Perhaps the simple, effective spear? Or the powerful sword? Or something ranged?)
>A book. A rare find among the mostly illiterate gnolls. The shaman of the camp, keeping the magic users inside in check, died from a simple strike to the head. You couldn't read, but perhaps there was knowledge there that would open up paths in the future.
>A steed. Desert gnolls ride giant lizards and camels to battle. This animal, however, is meant not for riding, but for hauling large shipments of goods. It may not be as fast as a war camel, but it's better than travelling on foot. (specify animal: giant lizard or camel)
>A bunch of supplies: some food, a waterskin, a rope and an oil lamp - all in a rugged bag.
>Write-in
(1/2) Another night, another job, another chance to shine. This place is all winding roads and twisting warrens, commercial exchange, commerce, creativity and a smidge of commotion. The implants are struggling to keep up - layered advertising spam in neon-colours flaking away into glitching rainbows at the corner of your eyes. Certain sense of festivities around here. Voices raised in shouts and song and praise and everyone - everyone! - will try to peddle you a barter with the soft assurance you are definitively the very best of their many friends and deserves such splendid offerings. Special price. Just for you. Tonight might not be as dangerous as some jobs, but the threat to your wallet is definitively real... 
The year is 2021, and Civil War rages across America. Across major cities, communists rise under the banner of the Proletariat Revolution. In the Northwest, a fascist warlord state has emerged to provide order and security. The East Coast is consumed by fighting between military remnants, warlords, and U.N. Peacekeepers. Texas has formed its own republic, and the West Coast has turned into a Chinese puppet managed by corporate fiefdoms. The world's going up in flames, and nobody knows what tomorrow will bring...
You are the Messenger (former name: Walter White) and you lead the Sun Belt Crusaders. Your group is best described as a radical Catholic cult claiming the papal throne backed by meth, violence, and cunning. Having fled your native Southern California, you have established a presence in the Arizonan village of Mobile southwest of Phoenix.
Your faction has had some success since settling down. You've secured a patron in the nearby town of Maricopa, which provides significant support in exchange for your services. You also enjoy a close relation to Maricopa's autonomous Reservation after helping a local figure execute a coup and establish a new government. Militarily, your faction has won a number of small skirmishes, has taken over (at Maricopa's behest) a mountain base previously used for raids, done mercenary work in Phoenix, and has violently seized a small town in battle.
The Crusaders are currently in a period of growth. Threats such as the prison-warden turned raider seem to have set their sights elsewhere, and the cult is building up its numbers and infrastructure. It's a precarious situation, as each boon has its respective cost, be it expanding infrastructure with funds from a pyrrhic victory (a reminder of your faction's current insignificance to Phoenix) or population growth that's stretching housing and other resources thin. Even the recent victory over and unexpected military seizure of Sacaton threatens to rouse the POZ's overwhelming might if the aftermath is not handled carefully...
Beyond your small territory of Mobile lie the many dangers of the Badlands. These range from yet more convicts turned raiders, the Cartel, hostile government agents (perhaps even in your own faction), and a myriad other groups you're slowly discovering. Looming over all is the former capitol of Phoenix, consumed with a massive war raging between the revolutionary Phoenix Occupied Zone and a loose coalition opposing it. If either faction takes control of the city, it will become the regional hegemon and likely seize the Badlands. All the while an outside faction such as Chinese-controlled California or Mexican warlords could start making moves in the area any time.
Your short-term goal is to continue surviving and expanding. Your longer term goal is to somehow secure Phoenix and the Badlands. Your ultimate goal is to bring the Glory of Christ to the entire country no matter the cost in blood, meth, or tears... 
Turn 14
The world of Pavilion falls under a pall. Mortal meddling strains the fabric of the world as wizards war with increasingly uncontrollable magics. To the west, a new land arises, ushering the Vizari into a harsh yet protected refuge from raiders and pillages. A presence stirs in the deep wounds they left behind, feeding on blood and souls, seeping through cracks in the firmament. The Northern nations seek glory in other lands, sending their armies outside of reality itself to fight wars in a strange new world. The Tyrns Without Summer march on all the while, food stores deplete, emergency measures turn to mitigation, and hunger yields to famine. Dark times indeed.
>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.
GLOBAL DISASTER: The night sky darkens, the stars torn from their seats in the heavens and cast into the western seas. The earth itself quakes with indignation, stirring up great waves that batter the coast. The days that follow are unseasonably cool and dry. The sun is enfeebled by a dry fog that reddens and dapples its shining light. Crops fail, lakes freeze, animals starve to death for want of grazing ground. 
You sit across from the leader of the magical girls Bryta Durwitz. 24 years old. Eyes sparkle like snowflakes. You can't believe that this beautiful woman. A local celebrity basically wanted to be with someone like you. Just an average guy working as a janitor. She and her friends attend Snowfield University, a massive, towering facility with pearlesant gates where all the magical girls in the city attend. You're starstruck, finding it hard to even form words as she sits across from you outside at the cafe table. Come on, surely you can manage something. You weakly choke out,
"I-it was a surprise, when I saw you save that guy... F-from the monster, when... When we met. I can't believe, the real Winter Gleam is really sitting here with someone like me..."
She twirls her finger lightly conjuring a magical vanilla ice cream cone, floating it towards you. You awkwardly catch it giving it a clumsy lick. Its... Delicious... So rich and pure... Shes smiling cutely at you.
"Hehe, you look like you're enjoying it. I wanted... To find someone who didn't have any abilities. Its hard, to find people to connect with, that aren't at my school that don't already know me. I guess I figured, why not take a chance with someone new?"
Clearly the whole city knows of her at least somewhat. But at least that makes sense. Still, theres gotta be something you can say or do that won't fuck this up for you...
------------
A) Whats it like, being a magical girl? Is it fun? Do you have any favorite spots to go monster hunting with your friends?
B) Whats your home life like? Do you have any family? I bet you life in a big fancy schmancy place huh?
C) Must get lonely at the top, even with your friends huh? Having the whole city looking at you, thats gotta be a lot of pressure.
D) Write-In Achieving overbind is not the easiest thing. 
We are going to play a civilization game. Our starting race will be humans, but we can find non-humans out there. There is magic and rapid technological development. Every 30 turns you get to choose a new leader, unless the old leader dies first (it can be its descendant, but not necessarily).
Select Starting Terrain:
Select 21 Tiles for your city, choosing one to be the Center Tile. The Center Tile gets +1 to food and production.
Also choose a location in the map for your starting settlement, give me a number.
You can choose as many tiles as you want to be water tiles of the type Sea or Lake. But if you choose Rivers or Oasis (which must be superimposed to some other type of tile; oasis can only be in deserts), for each 5 tiles of river you get one additional Sworn Enemy (as river tiles are highly coveted and draw attention). Notice that you start with one sworn enemy, get one sworn enemy simply by having any river or oasis tile, and an additional one on 5 and every multiple of 5 river or oasis tiles.
Other than river tiles, you can choose up to three Special Resources. The resource must be adequate to the tile, as follows:
Plains: Grain, Horses
Forest: Fur, Wild Game
Mountains: Silver, Gems
Hills: Stone, Iron
Swamp: Herbs, Swamp Roots
Desert: Salt, Spices
Water (Sea, Lake, Oasis or River): Fish, Pearls, Gold
Jungle: Tropical Fruits, Rubber
Tundra: Fur, Oil
Farmlands: Wheat, Livestock
Volcano: Gold, Obsidian
Select your starting conditions!
Slow Start:
1,000 population
Fast Start:
4,000 population
Advanced Start:
10,000 population, divided in up to three settlements (generate 2 or 3 of the 30 tiles option)
-
Also select a Leader for your civilization:
Isolde von Berghoff
- Backstory: Known for her intelligence and passion for the arts, Isolde turned her capital into a cultural hub.
- Bonuses: +20% research output, +1 science per city.
- Starts with Writing technology
Otto von Reichenbach
- Backstory: Otto is a pragmatic and shrewd leader known for his deep understanding of economics and commerce.
- Bonuses: +30% gold income, +10% production per city.
Starts with Trade technology
Friedrich IV von Löwenburg
- Backstory: A seasoned ruler who rose to power during a time of great conflict, Friedrich IV is known for his ability to unite diverse factions and build a mighty empire.
- Bonuses: +20% production in all cities, +1 influence per city. (influence is how many actions each city can make per turn) 
YER a Goblin of the GoblinSlayer universe. By sheer astronomical odds, while fleeing GoblingSlayer, aka the GobboCaust, you meet anuvva unlucky bastich: Yang Wuhan, 殃污琀, "Calamity-Corrupted Corpsepearl", also known as Divine Demon, Wyrmacide, Sword Specter, Wind Incarnadine, Gore Walker, Blade Emperor, the Absolute™, &c &c, who just got BTFO'd by an alliance of Righteous and Deviant Cultivators from his home universe.
In exchange for the lifesaving Thousand Year Lingzi you just happened to find just now, he swears to do you no harm and take you as his Disciple - Tudi - or, Toady, as your Teacher - Shifu - or, Seafood.
Since then you've been busy:
Getting Seafood a little-girl Pall Body to operate in while he seeks to restore his fatally damaged real body; learning the [Thousand Segment Carrionpede] form to the Fourth Moulting; killing a whole town for funzies n lewtz; got shotgun married to a ghost bint who tries to kill you in your dreams every 10days or so Seafudds sez it'z to dodge karma n build character; you think it might also be juzt because he'z a roit kunt; temping with the Rhean (GSverse Halflings) Resistance as a SoB for hire against Myrmid (GSverse literal bugmen) expansionism; exploring and destroying an ancient Dimm City; joining Orc Fight Club "with consent"; get bodymodded without consent; bag a Blew Bewbd Efreet from an Ice Dunjjon; investigated, with partial failure, a lead about sumfin sussy in va state 'a dem Orks.
PREV EPISODES
1: http://thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6051761
2:
http://thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6068523
3:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6083225
4: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6126087
RIGHT NOW:
For his last major success, Toady has been given a holla-die by Seafood to do as he likes, and chose to stirr shit up in Orky Country.
Seafood has "requested“ Toady get the Orc ShammyBoss Dulugtangor's hedd or staff as a gratuity for making Toady a new indestructible GIGA GLUGGZ Helff Potty container.
Dulugtangor is strongly tied to Clewfinda aka Jinx Finx, a sussy foot scout who may be involved with Dorf Peacekeepers and Humie Green Cloak Rangers.
Toady has just been registered and released as a trespassing non-belligerant in the Orc-cupied Zone by the Peacekeepers. If he gets detained by Peacekeepers again before clearing his name by reporting to an Adventurers' Guild and working off his trespass, he will be Interrogated at -25% disadvantage.
Having all his kit confiscated by the Dorfs has alerted Toady to the possibility that his pending {{{WEESH}}} from the captured Blew Bewbd Efreet might still be taken from him, and is strongly considering cashing it.
The {{{WEESH}}} has to be in 7 words to be at full reality-bending strength. QM gives its word there will be no traps in the {{{WEESH}}}. Natural narrative consequences notwithstanding. 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've just cleared out a major Barbarian encampment, stopping their siege on a nearby city. Currently the party is basking in victory. 
The North is falling.
That’s what some say, at least. There are many and myriad reasons to say so, some more compelling than others. The shining silver and unyielding iron of the Paladin Pece has lost is lustre, they say:
There are monsters in the lakes and rivers, creeping through the hills and dales from the Bloodrise Mountains.
Shapeshifting lizardmen spy from the shadows. Demon cults perform dreadful rites in forsaken farmlands left barren by dragonfire.
Goblins beset caravans to the east, emboldened orcs expand to their north, and the Southmen have cut off trade and stage military drills along the lowest border of Civilization.
A weak-hearted woman sits upon the throne of Hawksong, greatest jewel of the North, with an absent husband and a mongrel heir.
The Archmage is dying.
Everyone has heard at least some of these rumors, seen some evidence that they are more than the tall tales of pessimistic drunkards…
But for some, chaos is opportunity. An age of instability is many things, but to an adventurer, it means two things above all else: glory, and gold!
… 
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 - half a step above other genius of your age? Lucky encounters leveraged to the best and a knack for navigating social situations.
You own a trove of technic 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 nationwide 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. Alright, the Primordial Wolf might have helped you on that point.
Recently, you and your Stable Lotus Harbor friend partook in a capital city tournament organized by the Empress.
This required ample amount of training : all of you broke through 2nd stage before 8, the mark of genius-talent. You had to took strategical decision, and are pretty confident you could hardly have done better. Your fights seems to entrance a bored-to-death audience, giving you the new moniker of "Heartpiercer" - and a theme song https://suno.com/song/18f62c64-7ac6-402f-b6f2-30158f9a51dd
You were even granted the privilege of bowing at the feets of the 15-year-old 4th-stage young Empress - which you gifted a mystical karmic thread.
Now, you're checking on one frenemy and two of the foe that share a trait : all were deeply wounded and you bear some responsibility in the matter. 
You are Charlotte Fawkins, dashing heroine, detective, adventuress, heiress, sorceress, heraldess, etcetera. Three years ago, you drowned yourself in a quest to find a long-lost family heirloom; nowadays, you're still working on that heirloom thing, though you, trusty retainer Gil, and snake(?)/father(?) Richard have had plenty of other adventures. Inexplicably, you are plagued with strange omens and vile nemeses, even though m̶o̶s̶t̶ ̶p̶e̶o̶p̶l̶e̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶o̶k̶a̶y̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ y̶o̶u̶ ̶n̶o̶w you're beloved by everybody you know: after all, you've never done anything wrong in your life.
Right now, you've successfully imploded the villainous corporation Headspace (and its Management), and have returned to a larger audience than you expected.
Also, a louder one. There's a lot of people in a small area and they're all looking at you and clapping and cheering for you, because you did it. You did what you said you would. You saved people, and Headspace is no more, and... you think you need to sit down. There's still a possibility you're dead.
You glance down at Gil, slumped, knees out, hand loosely clutching your boot. He looks exhausted. Which is your fault, you think. You did that to him, because you didn't plan enough, and you went all stupid and Managery, and you didn't even blow it up properly, just imploded it, which is way worse and less—
Gil, seeing your glance, has reached up and slid his fingers into your forgotten open hand. He is tugging slightly. It takes you another moment to realize what he means, and then another to stiffen and help pull him to his feet. The instant he's up, he yanks your arm above your head, and the cheering swells feverishly. You spot Eloise, two fingers in her mouth, wolf-whistling.
Oh God. You might not be dead. This might be real. You might really be a...
Gil drops your arm, and Madrigal comes out of the front of the crowd, waving hers. "Okay! Okay! Cool it! Give her some fucking space! Does she look like she has anything to say right now?!"
She looks at you. You can't think of how to respond. Gil has dropped your arm, but not your hand, and he speaks for you. "...Maybe later."
"Maybe later! So if you don't have anything you need to tell Miss Big-Dick right this fucking second, you can all go off and get into— Monty! Corral them!"
"Okay, folks, if we could back up..." Monty launches into his natural-born role of traffic cop while Madrigal turns back to you, hands on hips. Is she angry at you? She doesn't look angry, but... "So."
You process. "So?"
"So you did it, you fucking nutcase! You did it! Not that— I mean— I know you said you would, but there's a big difference between that and, I mean—" She rakes her fingers through her hair. "I mean, that's a power move. That's a big-dick fucking power move. That and Bug Man's—"
"I didn't do that much," Gil demurs. "All Lottie."
(1/3) 
The Caretaker Quest - Part 4
This is part 4 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.
Potter’s daughter also had a powerful wizard inside her head.
Tactically used your enormous penis to somehow turn said wizard into a metaphorical vegetable by erasing his mind.
You have a sportsy German girlfriend.
And you are now in a coma and she is the new MC for a bit.
What will happen now? Let's find out!
Part 3 here >>6122821 
Last time, you dealt with *most* of the fallout after the prison break to leave the way clear for an amazing celebration! This Jackey Frosties has never seen this amount of activity before, and with the bill being covered, who can’t help but be in a good mood? Well, there’s a certain someone who hasn’t been in a partying frame of mind, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be cheered up. That’s right, you’re talking about Suan De! But she can wait for later. You actually want to talk to the second most miserable person in this room, and their name is Solomon. He’s due for a huge surprise.
While the party continues to rage on, you decide to wind down by approaching those two hanging by the window. They’re not even interacting with each other but are watching what is going on at a comfortable distance. You notice that Suan De is eating a Chocolate Bufu, you wonder why…
The Slob Dragon has noticed your presence, but you can’t say the same about the former prisoner, Solomon’s eyes are busy watching the sunset, seems enamored with the view…
You have to say something to grab his attention.
“Hey.” You say to break the ice.
“What a beautiful sunset, isn’t it?” Solomon looks longingly at it.
“Yes.” You say without much thought.
“You know what would make it prettier?” Solomon grins just thinking about his answer.
“What?” You play along.
“A mushroom cloud.” The man cackles at his own joke.
Suan De continues mildly enjoying her ice cream…
No man who used a rocket launcher on a giant monster should be this depressed! You gotta tell him about Constance, but you must do it tactfully. Choose your words wisely.
What do you do?
>“How would it compare to your daughter’s smile?” Be a little cheeky. Just a little.
>“Sir, there’s something I need to tell you.” Be really formal about this news.
>“Guess who is in the ‘Still Alive’ Club? Your daughter, Constance!” Spit the good news like an idiot! His wife still has her membership revoked, but who knows for how long!
>Write In. Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Disappearing%20Hogwarts
Character Sheets: https://pastebin.com/0QLDFzTy
Twitter: https://twitter.com/head_qm
--
In the last thread, you:
> Took your friends on a shopping spree on the Diagon Alley
> Started your own Dueling Club
> Beat Merula Snyde in battle and earned discounted chips
> Told your parents about everything that happened to you
> Visited the remains of Camelot
> Stole a unbloomed Prophecy from a church
> Finished your exams
> Went with your girlfriend on an internship tracking a supposedly extinct dragon
> Got cornered by said actually-not-extinct dragon
And now… 
The Lands Between are broken, the demigod children of Marika fracturing and fighting over their Shards of the Great Rune. Great betrayals and catastrophic battles have rocked the kingdom, dividing it politically and physically. Queen Marika is nowhere to be found as war consumes the land whole.
You are the last of the Silverwing Warriors under Malenia's command. When she besieged Stormveil Castle to bring punishment upon Godrick the Grafted, he, through Black Knife treachery, dealt her a fatal blow with dark weapons. You watched the horror unfold. The Scarlet Rot bloomed over the castle and hills. The flood of red wiped out nearly all combatants. It sent you down the castle stairs, down the gate, down, down, down…
Stranded behind enemy lines in a war torn land…
~-~
Welcome to the War of Broken Gold, an Elden Ring Quest set during the events of the Shattering. The Greater Will has not abandoned the Lands Betwixt quite yet, and Tarnished have yet to return en masse. There are still heroes in the land, like you, who may rise or aid the demigods back into Grace.
>We will be using a simple d20 system. Most rolls will be like Skill checks from DnD. All rolls will be done by players.
>Roll 1d20
>Best of 3 unless… Roll result is 1 (Fumble) or 20 (Critical Success)
The Silverwing Warriors, under the banner of Malenia, were the irregular troops when compared to her Cleanrot Knights. As a whole they were jacks of all trades, offering new options for combat. You wear the distinct silverwing helm and blue armor, but the way you fight is up to you.
>We’ll be voting between different arrays of stats to build our Silverwing Warrior. Once an array is chosen, we will plug in the number to the stats.
Health and Focus Points. 20 points between the two of them.
Arrays:
> 1. Balanced (10/10)
>2. Specialized (15/5)
During play we will have Flasks, which heal HP or restore FP. You begin with 3 charges, which refresh when you rest at a site of grace. How we’ll distribute flasks will be determined later. 
It was rather silent in the staff room where Mik had left all the girls, as the girls were all spending their time alone in ways they hoped would be meaningful. Chrysidus was busy reading some old brochures and newspapers from the facility, trying to improve her reading skills. Oreas was testing her powers on some metal wires to try and see if she could power electronics, hoping she could use her abilities to later help Lydia. Anofelis was curled up one of the beds, snoring softly as she was taking a little nap. Laura was double-checking all the rations and also preparing for Vinisha's arrival, having already set up a bed for her. Kamara was crawling on the ceiling, practicing her colour and shape shifting whilst actively on the move. And Morgan was busy playing chess with Ingmar. "Hmmmm, your last move was your unfortunate downfall!" Morgan would say proudly, Ingmar bumbling in response. "You're really good at this, Morgan."
The compliment would make Morgan chuckle heartily. "Well, I am a master tactician! Now, I suggest you think your next move through, lest your king ends up at the end of my blade!" Ingmar would look at the board, before playing a rather defensive move to protect his king. "How predictable. But you missed one important detail..." She'd make a single move which essentially gave her the checkmate. Ingmar kept thinking about his move, before responding calmly. "Well, uhhhh, I don't think I can really do anything? I can move this, but... then that frees up your knight, I think. I'm not sure. I'm not really that good at this chess stuff." Morgan would put her hand on his shoulder. "Nonsense! You're learning well! It is just that you are facing a tactical genius! I am certain that in no time, you will know all the tricks in the book to defeat your opponents!" Ingmar smiled, before speaking more softly. "I honestly prefer the whole... sword training thing we did earlier. Can we do that again?"
Having someone else interested in learning sword-combat was truly wonderful to Morgan. "Why, I'd love to, Ingmar! How about you put the chess pieces back in place?" As Ingmar did such, Morgan would form a smaller blade from some of her own metal armour. Though Chrys was quick to bud in, speaking softly as she looked up from her newspaper. "If you two are gonna play with your swords again, please do it in one of the rooms of the back, please. I really am not fond of all the noise... or the fact Ingmar accidentally threw his sword the last time you did this." Morgan nodded, as she signalled Ingmar to follow her to one of the storage rooms in the back. "Laura, Oreas, did you two know that... Roraima got a prize for being the first to have worked on at least 30 subjects?" Chrys would soon say, making Laura scoff. "With a guy like him holding that title, it's not even a surprise that this place went to hell." It made Oreas chuckle a little, before she'd put some energy into a lamp she had taken, actually making it glow again. 
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 Another day, another suit to stand and stare at while he clacks click clack clicks his keys on his little terminal.
Oh well. At least this one sprung for catering. Mark of a highly mannered client, isn't it? 
Thread archives
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Krypt-Chan
“It has been… Sister Celestine.”
Celestine eyes drifted toward the thing. Should she be in a different location, she would have cleaved the thing in half. Seeing that the thing was inside the most holiest of places with Chaplain Gabriel, she doubted she was facing a foe.
“And what is this?”
“Subject Ninety-Nine, creation of Ordo Xenos under Lord Inquisitor Kryptman to combat the ongoing tyranid invasions.” Chaplain Gabriel said. “She is here as the conclave is being prepared.”
“I see.” Celestine said.
“On what mission have you been sent to be summoned in Terra?” Chaplain Gabriel said.
Celestine’s beautiful visage twisted into a holy hatred in her worrying grimace. Ninety-Nine flinched at the bright searing light emanating from Celestine. The light that touched Ninety-Nine did not damage her, but the warmth of the radiance instead swelled her heart with an energy that she did not understand.
“The heart of Terra is in danger, a great calamity will occur and the threat is within the Imperium’s high command. The God-Emperor has sent me to find the heretic shrouded by foul magic.” Celestine said. “I suppose I will be needing your assistance once again, Chaplain.”
“Then it will be brief.” Chaplain Gabriel said. “I am here to represent the Chaplaincy of the watch fortress I reside in in this conclave.”
“What is the conclave about?”
“Imperium Nihilus, and who shall be sent to investigate the lost inquisitors. Perhaps there is corruption within the inquisition, those with vile intent influenced by the dark powers.”
Celestine glanced at Ninety-Nine.
“Yes… it will not be the first time an inquisitor has been tricked into creating something that would condemn billions of souls when it was meant to save the Imperium.” Celestine withheld a sigh. “But I also know there are righteous inquisitors as well. I will first speak with the Lord Commander.”
Celestine noticed the intense focus of Ninety-Nine.
"What is it, Subject Ninety-Nine?"
>“I like your wings!”
>“You’re very pretty Lady Celestine!”
>Write-in 
Holà gentes dames, belles demoiselles, nobles seigneurs et gentils damoiseaux, the Local Lord is back, as promised. I greet our veterans and for the new knights that flock to our banners I give you the links to the previous quests as a festuca.
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5085315/ thread 1
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5134375/ thread 2
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5194246/ thread 3
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5314154/ thread 4
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5422744/ thread 5
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5422744/ thread 6
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5561322/ thread 7
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5561322/ thread 8
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5702984/ thread 9
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5785267/ thread 10
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5920163/ thread 11
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6011182/ thread 12
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6079405/ thread 13
If I remember well good sirs we were just arrived to Lasthold, fief of our beloved lady Takable, to pass some good time with her and train her new household guard. But as per tradition our quest shall begin with a prologue about events in different parts of the world. Here we shall follow Mahmud and the other saracens that because of some inexplicable and probably ungodly phenomenon were transported to Bifuria while they marched against the devious mongols. Previous Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6134429/
>>6134429
Welcome back to False God Quest - a relatively text-light fantasy quest with simple hex art. Both new and old players are always welcome! 
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
_
A very exciting match is about to start, the finale of the martial arts tournament of the Qi condensation bracket of the tournament being hosted at the Garden of the Wild Empress temple. Your temple, in your arena. Two of your disciples at the pinnacle of the Qi Condensation stage are about to face off, and you can practically feel your blood boiling from the anticipation alone. Lian Luli, who might be the most talented of the generation behind yourself, and the vengeful ghost of Yujijiao, who has grown into a most ferocious spirit and far surpassed the legacy of her short life as the Oasis guarding beast princess that was dubbed the Jade Horn. A young girl, who is overflowing with vitality, spunk and a strong determination to survive despite how heavily the odds are stacked against her, and a girl who died and lingers on in death, fuming about how tragically short her life was cut down but whose found a second life in death.
Oh what the hell! Why not share your excitement with the crowd! Slapping your palms down on your knees, you shoot up from your seat, startling two of your five guests, He Ping and Ehuang, while the more well traveled Liao Gang, the heretic who is hiding behind inside the robes of a long ago extinct sect and Xue Long, your mother's annoying son who unfortunately could be called your brother, remain cool and composed as you rush to the ledge and throw up your hands
"This is the peak of this event!" You declare loudly voice booming and crashing like thunder as you lift your hands above your head and clench them into fists before hopping onto the ledge, teeth lengthening to fangs in your delirious excitment as your tail sprouts just above your, currently, very human buttocks as you yowl with delight.
Swinging down on hand, you point down at the ghastly visage of a human woman stapled to the neck of a giant serpent at the neck, Yujijiao preferred look and signature style!
"In the northern side! We have the tragically slain princess of beasts, the protector of desert oasis, one of the numerous victims of that foul tempered ogress!" You cheer, lips parted into a grin that doesn't quite fit on your human face, as starlight glimmers from your now lifted and flowing crimson hair "Yujijiao! The Jade Horn! My regent down in the crypts I own and the fairest princess of the dead. A young, fierce spirit, who spreads famine wherever her baleful gaze falls! And the princess born of curses, to whom the lesser dead bow! THE SOLE PRACTIONER OF JIEDIQI (The Famine of Breath, 饥饿的气,) Outside of the blazing cauldrons of Daiyu! She who suckled upon the vendetta born of her own demise!"
Cont Feels like yesterday when you discovered the chest with the old grimoires of your great grandfather hidden on the family barn. You read it with curiosity at first, and then you practiced it with intent. But after eight years of practice, all you managed to learn was a very minor spell.
> Fire magic
> Ice magic
You realize you need an actual master to teach you further, so you decided to travel. The chest is too heavy to carry with you.
> Bring your favorite grimoire along
> Better leave the grimoires where they are safe
Where will you head to further your magical learning?
> To the cold north
> To the verdant west
> To the desertic south
> To the savage east 
Quest Resources (including current inventory, date, time): https://rentry.org/PokepocalypseQST
Quest Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Pok%C3%A9pocalypse%20Revival
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.
<><><><><>
It is the Year of our Lord 1884, and the United States has just been invaded by creatures beyond modern comprehension!
With power beyond any mere mortal's and ubiquity beyond any eathly species, it's only natural that all of America has taken to calling these fresh invaders "demons". And yet, even with such a title to their name, there arise sympathizers. Sympathizers who insist that, despite their ability to rain down fire and lightning from the heavens themselves, these demons are worth human companionship! That they are not to be feared! Even, somehow, that they can help humanity if we just give them a chance...
Walter Buchanan, our humble protagonist, is one of these sympathizers. He has set out for New York state with his two human companions, Thomas J. Steele and a mysterious "Andrew", alongside a sizeable posse of demonic acquaintances, seeking the safety of his family and a return to his home village of Cooperstown.
We return to him in the current moment, across the country and in America's westernmost state, wrapping up his paid studies as he pursues his smaller goal of reaching Sacramento...
<><><><><> 
2510, the Office of Naval intelligence reexamines the Carver Findings and the improved report building upon the prior findings by one civilian scientist, Catherine Elizabeth Halsey, then aged eighteen. Oni's projections matched the grim conclusions of Carver's report up to the year 2525. However, the independent research performed by Halsey predicted a far darker outcome of the projected conflict between the Inner and Outer Colonies of Mankind, that the inaction of the UNSC would spark a war that lasted at minimum for three decades and with the lowest estimated causalities surpassing five billion. The worse case scenario Dr Halsey predicted, the collapse of space fairing human civilization. Upon presenting her independent research to the Office of Naval Intelligence, Catherine Halsey accepted a position within Section III's Special projects division, to conceive a solution and counter to the anticipated interplanetary conflict.
2511, The second generation of the failed super solider project ORION, is initiated, and swiftly renamed by Halsey into the SPARTAN II Project to distance it from the deficiencies of the prior program and the radical shifts from the original project. The most controversial being the selection of the candidates, Young Children selected for their genetic disposition to superior physical and intellectual traits, raised from age six upon and taught warfare and militaristic values to achieve a supreme understanding of war and instill utter loyalty to the UNSC's interests. To screen for select suitable candidates for the program, a database was constructed through the Outer Colony Vaccination program. Initial funding allowed for three hundred candidates for the program, but budget cuts and relocation to other covert and top secret projects, reduced the candidate pool by half.
2517, One hundred a fifty children suitable for conscription into the SPARTAN II Program had been found through the Outer Colony Vaccination Program. However, before the collection of the subjects could begin, the funding available to Halsey and her project was further reduced. In another timeline, the initial suggested reduction of halving the Program's available resource again by half, may have gone through, reducing the tally of the first class of Spartans to a merely seventy five. However, coincidental factors, including the disappointing results of other blacksite projects and a certain high ranking official being caught suddenly ill when budgetary discussion were held, had reduced the loss of funding to the SPARTAN II program by one third instead, for a total of one hundred candidates. Children who would otherwise have lived their lives as civilians, ignorant of the horrors of war, both between the colonies and a threat yet to emerge, are in this version of events, instead chosen and taken from their homes to be trained and raised into SPARTAN super soldiers
Cont Previous Thread: >>6149613
>>6151518
You don't know exactly how to introduce yourself if you don't know anything, so you just ask her if she's got any ideas.
She doesn't.
>>6151534
She didn't even know there was somebody in the other room, and she says she only woke up after she saw you.
You sigh and surrender to a moment of unknowing while both of you stand around. You don't know anything, she doesn't know anything. It's like a frustration you've felt before, and yet you don't know if you've felt anything before you woke up. You hope maybe things become more clear as this series of events unfolds itself, and you're also not sure if you knew what you meant by that. 
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 possibly others 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 last few days have seen you destroy nearly forty unknown ships piloted by what your men already refer to as birds. Your Escort Carrier the Essex and her escorts have dealt not just one but two serious blows against the enemy and even now your escorts move in to deal the killing blow to the enemy fleet you had ambushed while scavenging a new water purification system for your flagship.
The enemy is doing its best to back away from the ship graveyard even as your corvettes and destroyers stalk out of the mess of broken wrecks hunting the damaged and fleeing ships. The enemy does something you think and human officer would probably be executed for doing they lose all cohesion and begin to run leaving the sole remaining battleship to receive the full wrath of your airwings torpedoes, the last of them you have onboard actually. The rest of the enemy force is just meat for your escorts to rip into with their coil gun turrets and the last of the torpedoes the destruction is so total that none of them even make it halfway to the systems jump point before becoming radioactive hulks after being struck by the torpedoes.
The enemy fleet now lays destroyed and your did so without a scratch but your ammo is gone and you still need to retrieve the replacement water purification system on the derelict cruiser
>Encourage the engineering team to work fast
>Take your time 
Thread archives
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%20Imperium%20of%20Man%20Princess%20Quest
Pangea turned around.
“I’ll inform Father and wait with you for him, what he does after is up to him.
Under the covers of night, Pangea returned through the same route she exited the palace. A quiet footstep followed, one in an earnest effort to not be heard followed by another declaring its presence. Pangea turned around, Alpharius stood in his armor holding his power spear. Her shoulders stiffened, while Amar seemed completely unfazed.
“Alpharius… I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“When the sole princess is gone, people notice, Pangea.” Alpharius’ gaze aimed at Amar. “Who is this woman?”
“She is… our contributor to our genes. The other half.”
“What?”
“You must be Twenty.” Amar looked around. “Yet I don’t see Twenty-One. Where is your twin, my son?”
Alpharius’s eyes widened and Pangea gasped.
“Twin?” Pangea gasped. “Y—You have a twin?”
—That’s enough.—
The psychic message boomed, like a chime of a golden bell. At the other hall Father approached, flanked by his two custodians and Malcador. Chills ran up her spines. Malcador, her uncle, her mentor, approached with a furious and cold glare as did Father. They walked past Pangea and stood in front of Amar.
—Neoth.— Amar messaged with a frigid tone.
—Traitor.— Father said. —Pangea, you have disappointed me today. We will discuss your punishment at a later time. Attend the ball, and do not speak of this to anyone.—
Pangea’s shoulders drooped.
—At once, Father.—
At the ballroom, once the horns of the royal family blared so late, the people watched with extra attention.
“Presenting, Princess Pangea. Justice of Verona. Rogue-Psyker Huntress, and beloved sister to the primarchs.” 
What is the pinnacle of sorcery, magic, the arcane arts?
After fifty-seven years of long, ceaseless toil, poring over hundreds of arcane volumes with single-spaced size 10 font, performing thousands of experiments, spending millions of silver, and suffering from a number five on the Hamilton-Norwood scale, you stole fire from the gods. You achieved that long-held dream of all wizards: the means of resurrection, eternity, immortality!
Alas, thaumaturgy is not an exact science.
The theoretical underpinnings of your magnificent enchantment had suggested a duality of spirit and flesh upon which you had staked your own life. Although that duality has been all but confirmed, its true nature has proved less transparent.
You have indeed reversed your years. Your withered seventy year old body has been replaced with a youthful one, free of crow's feet, cataracts, and moderate to severe Crohn's disease. But where you had hoped to reverse fifty merciless winters, bringing you again to the peak of virile manhood, you seem instead to have reversed sixty, bringing you a second time into the midst of tedious boyhood.
If that were the extent of your troubles, if you were still locked away in your tower with your tomes, and servants, and talking birds, it might have been endurable. But trickery of time and fate seems to violate reality itself, and in its amendment strange distortions may occur. Case in point: although you awoke again in a tower, it was not your own. Although you kept your face and even your name, it was at the expense of your history. And although you were (and shall ever remain) a wizard, you appear to have been recast as a squire in a house of meatheaded knights.
It is now the third day since your resurrection (or metempsychosis, as the case may be). You have not adjusted well to this new life. Case in point: your current confinement in the bowels of the southeast tower, with only a chamber pot and a straw mattress for company.
>What was the cause of your imprisonment?
>Insubordination. You had refused to shine the boots of Sir Gideon, a visiting knight.
>Theft. You had been caught trying to work the lock on the lord's strongbox.
>Indecency. The lord's daughter claimed you had been spying on her in the bath.
>Write-in 
Long ago, when mankind was young, torn from the chaos of the world by the light of the Judge of All Things, they struggled to understand the world that had been given to them. As order overcame nature, they were surprised and dismayed by the unpleasantness of their world. It was cold, ferocious, and desolate, where the strong devoured the weak alive, and life before the division of heaven and earth was a mad struggle to kill, or die.
“Judge Above,” Mankind lamented, “Is our lot truly naught but to suffer? If so, then take from us this curse of life, so we may at least find peace.”
In those days, the Judge was said to not be silent, as he was even when the First Saint was bequeathed his law, as Mankind was pitifully young. “Despair not,” spoke he, however he did so, “Warm yourselves with the strength you find in one another and that I have given you yourselves. The darkest day shall pass, and afterwards, the light of Judgement and Order will set aflame a new morning, and your world will be a beauteous paradise beyond your imagination. So it shall be forevermore.”
The people were doubtful of the latter claim, but did believe a day darker than they had known would come. So they stood against it, resolved to endure, and survived, but indeed, that day was the darkest to ever descend upon Mankind. Afterwards, the great cold and dark was broken, never to return, as Mankind was fully freed by the light of Order. In celebration and reverence, Mankind would celebrate the Darkest Day of each year as what is known as Langenachtfest in the Grossreich. For what better cause to celebrate could there be, than the beginning of the end of winter? The remembrance of the terrible times of old, and how they came to an end- whatever grim tides may rise, shall be endured, and in its wake, stand Mankind resilient…
-----
December 21, 1933
Langenachtfest season, here in Ysenhof. A city in the heartlands of the Grossreich of Czeiss, the most powerful, greatest nation on the continent, but one that wasn’t so big, and rather west to be anywhere happening and hip. A blanket of snow rested atop the canopy of the city, a fresh dusting covering surfaces previously swept and scraped clean. Twinkling, warm lights were hung alongside holly and winterbloom wherever it could be fit, paper recreations of fruit dangling from the branches of park trees regardless of if they were even the sort to sprout it. Couples could be found all over- most of them fresh in the making, which would be lucky to last. ‘Twas the season. 
Cursed from birth with silver hair, the sign of evil influence, you play as Argia Candente, a Knight-in-training determined to finally earn your valour and save your family… and protect your friend’s terrifying secret.
# # # # # #
Welcome to thefourth threadof Argia Candente's thrilling adventures, our scatterbrained, silver-haired (busty, as the players decided) Holy Knight-trainee with a penchant for daydreaming and plagued by self-doubt. Together with three other trainees who have become your fire-forged friends, you are now approaching an abandoned Temple of Flame inside a desert made of scorched glass…
During the latest thread you received a mission by the Angel of Ansàrra, crossed the sea to the heathen lands of the Treviri Throne, met with an Asterite mage who got on your nerves, and discovered that one of your friends is not of this world. Yes, the brunette skirmisher who you admired so much, Salicera Fors, is actually one of those so-called Stranders, and comes from another world— and her actual name is Willow Stark!
This has left you baffled, but you are positive that Willow will come to terms with her troubles and hold on to the true Faith.
Especially now that you are so close to achieving your goals.
Complete this mission, and you will be ordained a Knight… and you’ll be able to invite your family to live in the Holy Land.
So close. You can almost grasp it…
>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/
>Voting Link (please vote, we’re almost golden!): https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Silver%20Knight%20Quest
(thanks everyone for voting! My mom reads these threads and she’s so proud of this community!)
Update schedule:usually one update every 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.
As for what happened last time onSilver Knight Quest… Pick race and location, except for those I marked with a big X, I don't wanna run those.
No write-ins for the race, please, just stick to the ones in the picture.
I'm on vacation so I'll be running sessions daily, I hope to run at least one full thread, later on we'll see if it goes anywhere.
First to three votes goes, or if we don't have enough in one hour I'll just roll with whatever votes we have. 
You labor beneath the glittering towers of the Elvish Kingdom, where light reflects endlessly on crystal spires, mocking the darkness below. The mines are your prison, and you are one of many—dark elves condemned to extract the precious ores that fuel their grand enchantments. They call you "lesser," "second-born," treating you as tools rather than people.
But you are no tool. You feel it in your bones—literally.
It starts with the discovery deep within the mines. Your pickaxe strikes something strange, something that isn’t ore. You uncover the remains of a great beast, its bones ancient and forgotten. The sight of them stirs something in you, an energy that feels alive, though the creature is long dead. You touch the bones, and for the first time in your life, you sense power in your hands.
You experiment in secret. Small constructs rise at your command—a scurrying hand, a twitching ribcage. The magic flows naturally, as if it had always been a part of you. The other workers watch you cautiously, but they say nothing. No one wants to draw the overseers' attention.
You know the wards in the mines are unyielding, built to keep you trapped. No teleportation, no tunneling to freedom. But magic like yours—magic they don’t expect—offers a chance.
You study the layout of the tunnels, memorizing patrol routes and weak points. At night, you practice with your bone constructs. A skeletal raven takes to the air, silent and swift, scouting paths you cannot tread. The raven brings back knowledge: the enchantment nodes that power the barriers, the location of the nearest exit, the patrol schedules.
Patience becomes your weapon. Weeks pass, then months. The overseers grow lax, assuming you are too broken to rebel. You bide your time, gathering bones piece by piece, building an ally for your escape—a massive skeletal beast formed from the remains of creatures long dead.
The night of the new moon comes, the mine bathed in absolute darkness. The guards are celebrating aboveground, their laughter echoing faintly through the tunnels. You seize the moment.
You summon your skeletal beast, its hollow eyes glowing faintly in the dark. With a whispered command, it charges forward, its claws tearing through enchanted barriers. Alarms blare, and the air hums with magic as the overseers' wards activate.
You don’t stop. The guards appear, shouting orders, their blades drawn. You raise your hands, and the bones of long-forgotten workers stir beneath the ground. Skeletons claw their way to the surface, their jagged remains forming a vanguard. The guards falter, unprepared for the rebellion of the dead.
You ride your beast through the chaos, your constructs buying you precious seconds. The mine's exit looms ahead—a crack of moonlight spilling onto the forest beyond. Freedom is within reach. 
You are an inhabitant of the Nameless Realm. This land is a land of countless paths to power, strange locales, powerful artifacts, and people who take them.
Cultivators on the path of ascension.
This is not who you are. You are one of the many more people who lead normal lives, far from the ones who grasp endlessly for power and their matters. Farmers, medicine men, nobles, whatever.
Yet the past few hours of your life elude you. You wake up in a strange place with 4 others, equally confused. The floor and walls are a cold smooth marble white, pillars rising far into the darkness above.
There are 3 paths ahead you, each one leading into a chamber...full of books. Tomes, manuals, and scrolls on topics which elude you. Though you're certain the contents within are invaluable, should you choose to study it.
Each chamber is marked with an intricate symbol. One of a sword. One of a pond. One of a mirror.
---
This game will take 5 players, first come first serve. Provide a name and 3 aspects of your background or personality from which to draw insight from, excluding any familiarity with cultivation.
For example, you could be a bullheaded person with a history of butting heads with people, an unfortunate quality for someone of a noble background and upbringing. You were disowned for your impudence, going on to become a mercenary who favors an axe. Three aspects.
Each cycle, you gain 3 Actions. For now, it can only be used to explore one of the 3 rooms, revealing a random book inside. Often, but not always, it can be advisable to take actions one by one.
When you explore a room, roll a dice with a size equal to the number of books not yet found. Naturally, this dice lowers as more books are found.
As you explore a room, unexpected events may occur.
More mechanics will be revealed as they come up and become relevant.
- Sword Chamber: 4 books.
- Pond Chamber: 4 books.
- Mirror Chamber: 4 books. 
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
You feel it in a pattern, hitting your head, always in rhythm, like the march of a one-legged soldier. The swiishing sound of rustling leaves accompanies the beat as you are dragged by your leg, somewhere, by something, in a place you do not know. It remains foggy and unclear, yet you cannot think why, as if it had always been so. The visage above you is muddled into a sea of green. A forest, perhaps? You try to turn around and look, then try some more with little success, unsure of how to even move. The thing that hits your head must be the rocks on the ground, yes. You are certain of it. It is not an comfortable feeling. You feel you will be hurt seriously if this continues.
You try to raise your body, yet you cannot will it to do so. You feel so weak and lethargic. You feel so tired. Such a simple act seems impossible to you now, no matter how hard you try. But why were you trying? Yes, the thing carrying you, the man. You try to look, but yet again, your eyes themselves seem to be unable to comply, blinking slowly and tiredly, a blurry form just at the corner of its fields.
You try to call out to the man, to try to get him to stop, and what comes out is nonsense, garbled and unsure. Can he not hear you? You want to stop. You try to move your hands, to grasp upon a root, to stop these hurtsome rocks, but when your hand grasps upon the root, you feel pain, and quickly let go, quickly falling past you as you continue to be pulled. There must be thorns in the roots...if you hold on, you will surely be hurt. Yet if you do not, the rocks will do the same. Is there nothing else? Must all your choices lead to pain? You want to stop...you need to stop...stop...
You open your eyes. 
Ensuring that you have no direct sight of the unknown foe, you instead look through the various sensor data to predict enemy fleet movement. They appear to be hell bent trying to close the distance, burning at full speed even when one of their destroyers is brought low by concentrated lance fire. Seemingly ignoring the loss, the enemy, either brave, cold, or mad, continues its advance.
Due to your peculiar situation, you are incapable of proper coordination. Considering how extremely you were affected by just looking at the foe, you naturally have strong concerns about the humans aboard the Deimean vessels.
Considering all dangers, you had reached but just single solution for the issue – nuke the bastards, as an old saying goes.
Now, the biggest issue at hand is of course the fact that you have no means of control. You would be unable to deploy more powerful weapons that would require your direct guidance. The issue for autonomous weapons is also out, you’d rather avoid the worst-case grey goo scenario.
Everything combined leads to the simplest of weapons. In this case, a dumb weapon, a nuclear device. Sundial – the most powerful nuclear weapon available to you, easily capable of cracking planetary crusts and potentially destabilising entire worlds. Generating enough force to wipe out entire continents at its lowest charge and cracking worlds open at the strongest, this is the most primitive and powerful of your weapons. Just the shockwaves generated by these weapons are powerful enough to potentially level entire mountains and level the terrain into smooth plains. Of course, lacking atmosphere, the destructive capability is vastly reduced, which is why this specific variant is a two-stage device, creating temporary gravitical distortions, pushing the explosions away whilst at the same time moving nearby hostile vessels towards the explosion. 
The camera pans across a dimly lit room filled with scattered papers, a torn wrestling poster, and a single, battered championship belt sitting on a desk. A figure in a sharp, if slightly rumpled, suit stands up and adjusts his tie, staring directly into the camera. It’s The Commish.
“Alright, listen up, folks. If you’re here, it means you’re ready for something different. Something wild. Something… Smack Talk Wrestling Saga.
“Yeah, I used to run the show over on Substack, and let me tell you—it was legendary. But legends don’t live forever when the platform pulls the rug out from under you. No matter. The Commish doesn’t quit. And now, I’m here, ready to rebuild the greatest wrestling universe this world has ever seen!”
He slams his hands down on the desk.
“But I can’t do it alone. A league needs wrestlers, rivalries, and a whole lot of chaos. That’s where YOU come in.”
How It Works
This isn’t your average wrestling league. Here’s how the Smack Talk Wrestling Saga will unfold:
1 Weekly Schedule:
Wednesday Nights: Matches at The Hey Barn—home of the wildest, rowdiest crowds you’ll ever see.
Saturday Nights: Premium events at The Rusty Pelican, featuring title defenses and special matches.
Sunday: Granny’s Supper Recap—a wholesome, chaotic look back at the week.
2 Interactive Gameplay:
Create your wrestler. Submit their name, backstory, strengths, weaknesses, and signature moves.
Control your wrestler’s fate by posting promos, calling out rivals, and suggesting match ideas.
Watch as your choices shape storylines and bring chaos to the ring.
3 Weekly Prompts and Mysteries:
We’ll toss in curveballs—cryptic messages, Aelorian mysteries, and challenges that only the bold can solve.
Meet the Crew
The Commish
That’s me. I keep this circus running. You’ll see me setting matches, stirring the pot, and occasionally refereeing when things get really out of hand.
Granny
She’s the heart of this league—a little old lady with a big attitude. Don’t let her apron fool you; she’s got a ladle that’ll knock sense into anyone who steps out of line. She also serves pie, but only if you’re on her good side.
PeeWee
Our resident high school misfit and conspiracy theorist. He’s in charge of tech and digging into the weird mysteries that seem to follow the league wherever we go. If there’s something strange in the air, PeeWee’s got a theory (and it probably involves Bigfoot).
Open Tryouts: Join the Smack Talk Universe!
Think you’ve got what it takes to step into the ring? The Commish is officially announcing open tryouts!
How to Enter:
Reply to this thread with your wrestler’s details:
Name
Gimmick (hero, villain, or wildcard)
Backstory
Signature Move(s)
Strengths/Weaknesses
The Commish will personally review your submission and roll you into the league. Matches begin this Wednesday at The Hey Barn, so don’t wait! 
You find a an ancient map from the old continent your people came from a long time ago, fleeing from an ancient undead plague. The plague seems to have stopped, and so the continent should be rife for conquest!
You assemble a team and traverse the waves!
You have up to 1000 points to prepare your voyage (you can spend less if you want, but not more).
Ships (you need enough ships to carry all your people and stuff, otherwise some of it will be left behind):
Caravel (capacity for 30 people - it is a sailship, can't move without winds) - 50 points
Rowship (capactiy for 50 people - it is fast but has no weapons, can only ram) - 100 points
Galley (capacity for 200 people - big and slow, but carry several ballista, can sail and row) - 500 points
Population:
Skilled Laborers (5 points)
Masters (20 points)
Legendary (50 points)
Apothecaries
Craftswomen
Diplomats
Engineers
Farmers
Fishermen
Gatherers
Hunters
Jewelers
Managers
Medics
Metalsmiths
Miners
Sages
Schoolteachers
Soldiers
Stoneworkers
Strategists
Tamers
Woodworkers
Other (specify)
(1 point each)
Unskilled Laborers - these people have no particularly useful skills, but they can still haul goods just fine
Leader
Charismatic - little more than a peasant leader, but the people love you and follow you (100 points)
Courtesan - leading through your female wiles, your ease in making allies is unparalled (100 points)
General - you're recognized amongst the best military strategists in the world (100 points)
Optional:
Noble - a member from one of the ancient houses, adds legitimacy to your claim (+100 points)
Monarch - a direct descendant of royalty, who are fabled to descend from the gods themselves (+300 points)
Magician - someone with proven supernatural powers, possibly a half-demon (+500 points)
Resources (each 100 units takes 100 population worth of space; the number listed below is cost in points per unit):
Cattle – 6
Cloth – 12
Cotton – 8
Dyes – 15
Furs – 10
Grain – 4
Hemp – 5
Herbs – 7
Horses – 14
Lumber – 3
Mana Crystals – 20
Ore – 7
Rum – 13
Silver – 16
Sugar – 6
Tobacco – 11
Tools – 9
Trade Goods – 10
Whale Oil – 17
Wine – 12
You may also choose your landing spot on the map. 
Thread #1 Archive:
https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fo/7fem18ut3cdvwtl023tk1/AFSvBTcmGh-HIWJReZVB-vw?rlkey=7i5c5fe3d3jrft2771yqz3g23&st=lhj8ip04&dl=0
//i've never used dropbox for filesharing before so please let me know if it works. i have the first thread downloaded and i want a full archive to be available. lmk if there's any issues here (or if you can see my decade old uploads lmao)
Reconstruction Site (Fire Door) summary:
You woke up in a room with no memory of your previous self. Your room was filled with countless books and a small number of personal effects. You met Iris, a middle aged woman with a prosthetic arm and eye; your childhood friend. She gave you a letter from your old self, explaining that your memory loss is due to them "wishing to undo past wrongs". You can use magic, you enjoy art, and you employ several people for a goal which Iris will tell you once you meet them all. Whether not you will pursue this goal, though, is up to you. You eat and perform a simple spell and learn about Iris' past as a soldier and assassin. You decide not to smoke with her, taking advantage of your new lease on life, despite your resentment towards your previous self. You examine yourself in a mirror, revealing a short stature with a smooth face and large nose. You hair is various shades of brown, with brown eyes and thick eyebrows. You wear black jeans, a big green coat, and a t shirt with "LIFE IS ART" emblazoned on the front. You find out the old version of you was named "Pluto", although you don't believe Iris on that one. You decide to meet up with Cairo, a former member of a religious order, and make your way to a spaceship which Iris pilots. You explore the ship a bit, checking out the fridge and opening some drinks.
You still have some time left on this trip, but according to Iris, there shouldn't be more than 40 minutes left. You've just had a weird drink from the fridge, and gave Iris her sparkling water, which you didn't enjoy. There's still some ship to explore, some self to explore, and some Iris to explore. What do you do? ![The Measure of Souls[sound=files.catbox.moe%2F5qd9vr.mp3]](https://i.4cdn.org/qst/1733490638557916s.jpg)
You are L2S Trollhunter Fiona Jarnafeldt, and you think you’re in trouble. Big trouble.
Earlier today, you were directing a pair of engineers through the stormdrains with your compatriot, L2S Manhunter Saemus Fahy, as the workers installed a drone nest used to observe the squatter city and plot out the encroaching attack on the city. The mission went fine, that’s not the issue. The squatters have successfully reverse engineered the technology from a pneumatic suit they stole months ago, you put them down handily, and a team is on the way to pick up the bodies for processing. That’s perfectly fine.
But something happened.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alCtsl65y3o
While on the mission, your radio transmission was hijacked by a strange caller who claimed to someone named Zephyr, a member of a clandestine research team serving Mother Nature’s Providence known as the Old Oaks. On the call he made a mortifying claim: that no amount of hard work or effort will get you to the promotion you seek, that no number of slain monsters however fierce and fearsome they once were really matters to your ends. The only way to earn this promotion to earn the life and family you’ve been fighting to earn is to sell your soul and morals and to kill a child of the city’s overpopulation. A brand of loyalty seared in to the back of your mind for the rest of your life.
Zephyr went on to say that everyone around you in any place of authority has done this. Your mentor, the stormwatch director, even your parents had to have done this. It was either this, or winning the lottery, if you wanted to bring that child that you always wanted, always seeing, haunting you like a ghost, into the waking world. He then made you an offer to try and destroy the system. You took off your radio; you did not want to hear any more of that seditious thought.
You thought that a complete dismissal would be enough to prove loyalty for anybody who happened to hear what was said.
But then a man in black arrived to direct you to an L4 operator’s office. 
"It all comes in threes, in threes, threes..." the caged one cackles as the crusaders finish their third barefooted lap around the mine. The sun scorches the skin and blinds the eye, it's noon in the outskirts of ancient Eridu. Just short of twenty men they are, the long road has tattered them in numbers, in garments, in meat on bone. Yet they persist in their tiredness, performing penance only days after the finish of their long journey.
There is no other way, two nights have passed here, two nightwatch squires have gotten sick. The bishop Adhemar blames his own sins, Ceolmund blames the dirty water that gathers in black puddles everywhere, some blame the one in the iron cage, that is dangling off of rudimentary mine crane high in the sky. Away they were from the glorious battlements of Francia, Adhemar knew, now the humble wooden structures for transport of broken rubble made long ago were their new palisades.
"If Jericho's walls fell after three rounds of encirclement, now let our walls never fall, Saint Michael, as we are paying the same price for the opposite... " Adhemar, leading the procession, finishes their barefoot penance with churchly monologue, extorting health and success from worship worthy figures from the cannon. Behind him are the three knights in the expeditionary group - the german twins Godrick and Gebehart, stuck shoulder to shoulder as always, and behind them - the englishman Ceolmund the Paragon, who is now ordering something to the men...
"Osbert and Thorley, fetch fresh water from the hills we passed as of late, as to rid our bloodied feet of those black pebbles and to bring relief to the two sick boys in the tents... Riley and Aldwin, send the Assyrian to those native abominations and get them back to mine work..."
Someone needs to stand guard tonight, the leaders decide it should be one of them this time.
>Ceolmund the Paragon
>bishop Adhemar
>the twins Godrick and Gebehart 
"Please?"
You cross your arms.
"No."
"Pleeease?"
Your arm remained crossed.
"No."
Your old colleague, Lux, spread her arms on the circular table. She clasped her hands and shook with her head flat on the table. Her blond hair shimmered under the cloudless sunny day. A gentle breeze waved past, cooling the surrounding area of the outdoor cafe you sat in. Her canine ears drooped down.
"How did this come by anyways?"
Lux pulled herself back up. She ate a mouthful of her slice of strawberry cake. Her eyes closed tight in a brief, blissful, sugar high. The coffee, topped with five sugar cube and cream, was raised by Lux, she jerked her head back and downed the sugary abomination of what was a Lunarian Coffee. Lux let out a long and content sigh.
"Our headmistress wanted us faculties to look for new teachers, not from our usual alumnis or the list of candidates. Someone outside of the student's... lifestyle. They need a teacher who needs to ground them in relaity."
"You mean they're bunch of children w you haven't been in the city for years, you enter the market district and take a cursory glance, when your fleeting glance happens to fall on the stall of an old goblin woman, her eyes light up and she rubs her hands together as she looks at you with her bile-green eyes. she engages you in conversation and shows you her wares. some of the 'knives' are simply broken, rusted swords, some of the more well-kept pieces have clear signs of use such as dried blood or pooled poison that has clearly passed its expiration date that stains the bronze. "come, come see my wares and trinkets, they will serve you well and mighty" she flashes her yellow uneven teeth. what is your next move? 
You stare at the door outside. It would be easy to put all this out of your head and just keep it moving. But it doesn't feel right.. you cast a glance at Batman and find he's already staring at you. The unsettling glow of Batman's eyes from beneath that cowl of his make you nervous. Hell, everything about this place makes you nervous. An hour ago you still thought of 'magic' and 'spirits' as possibilities. Chances in an infinite universe, things you never really believed fully but still left the door open for. Only now the door is wide open and you've stared into what's behind it directly and according to John it's done it's share of looking back. Is this really your place? No. It isn't, you weren't meant for dark delves into haunted asylums with masked crusaders. Yet it seems every time you fight to return to normalcy, for the privilege of an honest job, you're exposed more and more to how much deeper the rabbit hole goes. How comically small your role in the world is. You'd laugh if it didn't always feel like the joke was on you. But through all of this bullshit you've never lost sight of what you've stood for, the world wasn't your problem; Gotham and the people in it are. You look again at this man, this Batman, and it feels like another reflection.
Maybe he's meta, maybe he isn't but he's still a person. Someone who had desires, maybe the same ones as you. Just a man who wanted to protect his home. You remember when you first saw the photos in your dad's paper, his suit wasn't much more than stitched kevlar and sports pads despite it his presence was inescapable in the City. He seemed like a manifestation of Gotham's anger, finally fighting back to halt the grinding boot that was turning everyday people into a paste and looking at him now you aren't sure you recognize the man clad in pristine body armor, trimmed with technology that borders on science-fiction. It makes you think, would you from a few months ago recognize yourself? Your own words to Question echo in your head, maybe it's better to just focus on the things you can act on. This is out of your depth and it may be out of his as well, but you can still help where you can.
"You're out of your depth too." You start. "Your utility belt won't be as helpful against the things John's looking for as you think, and given everything he's said about you, you'll just end up drawing attention to both of you if you go with him."
"Maybe." Batman grumbles. "But I don't trust him to wander that place by himself. Even if it was empty."
"Gee, thanks mate." John mumbles, rolling his eyes wildly as he reads his tome.
"If anyone should be his backup, shouldn't it be another magician or wizard or something? He can't be the only one, you guys mentioned someone earlier."
"No." Batman says firmly. "I'm not bringing anyone else into this, I won't risk them."
"But you'll risk me?" You ask, genuinely taken aback.
"You were already in, whether you liked it or not." 
Previously on With Great Power Quest: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=With%20Great%20Power%20Quest
and Rites of the Red Wizard Quest: https://archived.moe/qst/thread/5043544/#q5045606
Down we went into the dark, and into a terrible heat. It was a tropical warmth, the air thick and humid. I was uncomfortable in my jacket, but kept it on. The only light to see from was the fire in my fist. It cast long shadows down the descending stairs. The walls were stone, at first. So were the stairs. Then the next step beneath my foot became sticky, and the light gleamed a halo off the grool that dripped from the walls. A gloved finger slid along the surface just long enough for me to not want to ever touch it again.
It was fleshy, and wet.
"Fuck this," Grit muttered behind me as we descended into the living nightmare that was the Flesh-Smith's lair.
I don't know how far down we went, but the time we reached the foot of the stairs, we were breathing hard through the baking heat. Ahead of me Ayane's neck glistened, a sheen in her black hair. When the Living Dead Girl looked back, she wasn't frightened, her cheeks and her neck glowing from sweat. Her dark eyes were hard, determined, ready to meet the monster head on.
Putting a hand to her shoulder, I pulled myself in front.
If anyone was going to slay this dragon, it wasn't going to be here.
"We're nearly done with this," Dusk whispered to her sister, squeezing comfort Ayane didn't need into her palm. The sinister mask had dropped from Dusk's voice, for the first time she had the tone of a woman scared for her little sister.
Ayane nodded. "One way or another," she said, more fatalistic than I'd like.
Down a corridor we came to a closed door. A door red and veined, and in its center, a face.
I knew it, or I recognized it. Ferrara, a capo for the Outfit. He had come on bended knee to beg the Flesh-Smith for help in the gang war tearing up Chicago. He'd found out the hard way who he was dealing with. Weeping eyes closed shut, the gangster sobbed in his prison. Poor bastard.
When he opened those horrified eyes, tears running down his wretched face, he gasped.
"Get outta here, go, run," he sobbed, "You don't want what's in here. Not even you, Hotspur."
"Yes, we do," Dusk said, an obsidian talon raised.
He squeezed his eyes shut and began to sob again. The once powerful Chicago gangster, now warped into a grotesque door knocker.
"You don't want this, you don't, you don't..."
>Open the door to confront what lies beyond
>Cut through the door and put Ferrara out of his misery 
Previous Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%202nd%20Primarch%20Quest
_
Yushan, the first world explored by the courageous Celestial Explorers League sent out into the stars from Long-Jia's newly constructed space ports, and the first of Shangrala's sister worlds colonized and the furthest along in the process of being made into a proper habitat for its people and the others who found shelter upon the world you call home, be they human or not. After Guozhi proceeded to the next in the line of his thousand lives and you mourned with your fellow psykerists, and wept many bittersweet tears into the shoulder and hair of your beloved Kanzeon, the colonization and inspection of the world of Yushan had quietly proceeded and rather uneventfully. Now taint of discord or Empyrean energy wellspring was found lurking in its further reaches, and while its lack of fog and mist was unpleasant to the native Shangralans amongst its colonists, there had been no danger beyond what was expected in settling a new world, the threat of treading into and seeking to tame wilderness.
However, you and your most esteemed brother hood of panther hunters, and your sons of the legiones astartes and their own subordinate regiments of baseline humans from Terra, along with a smattering of various abhuman and xenos auxiliaries, had been requested to solve an unexpected problem. The threat posed by the suddenly aggressive wildlife of Yushan, that the colony guard and imperial army of Long-Jia found themselves incapable of overcoming even with their advance weaponry and finely wrought armor and well honed tactics.
The most veteran amongst your space marines, and the survivors of the original brotherhood of panthers, all agree that amongst the many unique and fascinating strains of life present upon Yushan, four pose the greatest and most imminent threat to the brave and selfless colonists, whom have left behind their homes and the stability and safety of modern society to spread both humanities' dominion further across the stars as well as the values and wisdoms that had brought the people of Shangrala together to bask in shared prosperity only made possible through their unity and solidarity.
The habitat flattening "Town Crushing Serpent", with a hide toughened through the incorporation of the minerals that make up the majority of their diet, a natural defense strong enough to resist even sustained plasma fire. A formerly docile one horned brute of a creature prized and selected for domestication for their hardy, insolating fur and protein and vitamin rich milk, that has in recent cases of aggression revealed of previously unknown toxin produced within its singular horn that is singularly lethal and capable of causing deaths most prolonged and agonizing. A gargantuan reptilian beast that resembles the crocodilians of Prospero, that through yet to be determined means, is capable of, with a stare, paralyzing its prey.
Cont 
Lucia threw back her head, snubbing at Miranna’s words.
“I ought to thank you, Harpy, for scaring the villagers into hiding,” she said, one hand steadying the magical tendril at your ankles, while raising the other towards the Nettle Harpy’s head. “It’s less of a trouble for me now.”
“You promised me five minutes,” you called out, nearly stepping out of her snare. You trusted your friend not to punish you for a mistake.
She clenched her fist, leaving it hanging. Glancing your way, she nodded, quickly returning her eyes to Miranna’s.
You lifted both palms to your neck and cleared your throat.
“Miranna. The prophecy says that it’s the Demon Generals I am destined to slay. If those demons cease to be Generals, the prophesied death will need not to befall them.” You turned to Lucia. “Wouldn’t it be best for all? No need for bloodshed.”
Lucia’s lengthy eyebrows brushed together.
“I never said I’ll join your side, young Niklos.”
Miranna let out a heated snort, searing embers flickering at the sharp ends of her claws. “That’s the response you’ll get, Niklos—from all of them. They, unlike myself, hold little care for their lives, or are too naive not to take the prophecy seriously.” She pointed a talon between you and Lucia. “But how do you know her?”
Lucia murmured, her voice gentle and fleeting. “Four … ”
“I don’t want you to join my side, Lucia,” you said, bringing up the hand clutching the knife, your fingers tangling in your hair. You yanked at the locks, not letting go until you felt pain. “Why can’t you women just play along?” Releasing it, you looked back at both of them. With a sigh, you added, “You just have to relinquish your role as Demon General."
“I fail to see how this pertains to what you promised to talk with her about, young Niklos,” Lucia admonished. “Will you?”
“Yes, that was the follow-up part of it,” you said. “Miranna, in return, Lucia wants that you refrain from damaging the trees. Not to claw them with your talons, nor to scorch them with your flames.”
You rubbed at your temples, casting a glance back at Lucia. "Is there any other harm she ought to avoid?"
“The buildings, and everything else made out of cut wood.”
Miranna waved her hand through the air, fiery trails following her nails. “She just said that she won’t join you!”
“She will, she will, trust me.”
“And why is the welfare of trees of such importance anyway?”
Lucia’s expression hardened, her eyes narrowing like owl’s.
“Because life courses through every tree, Harpy. Every. Tree.”
“That doesn’t stop me from harming everything else though?”
“Miranna,” you pleaded, “you only need to avoid landing in forests or villages, and in case we need to, hold back on using your fire magic. Surely that won’t be that much of a problem for you?” 
"In need of money? Unemployed? Join the POLYTECH expedition to the old planet of Old Earth! No need to buy equipment or weapons! Recruiting...recruiting...recruiting..." You slowly gain your senses, as you wake up on a snowy field. You look around and you see a crashed airplane-sized spaceship, broken in two and covered in flames. There are bodies around it...Must be your crew. You see a man In the distance, but he is far away. You have time to prepare for his arrival.
>Name: Nathan Cooper
>Role: Mechanic
>Personal: An Englishman. Dreamed to be an engineer, but dropped university. Is very good with repairing radios, weapons and technology. Analyses every move and is keen to diplomatic solutions.
>Difficulty: “We got this man! We got this by the ass!” Your skill in analization helps you predict the possible outcome of the fights. You are more likely to find a peaceful way to resolving the conflict. Your skills in repairing can help you in reaching out to any other survivors here
>Name: Yuriy Kovalev
>Role: Squad leader
>Personal: Russian. Used to be an officer in the army, taking part in the uprising against the new POLYTECH government. Accepted the job, due to hitting his rock bottom. Aggressive, but is still a team player. A professional in unarmed combat and leadership.
>Difficulty: “God, help me” You are a good leader and have a lot of skill in fist combat. But you are still a very aggressive person, which can lead to conflicts inside your own group 
For generations, the Kingdom of Lindan has been under siege by an otherworldly threat, that of demons. Hailing from a barbarous and unusual land and with skills that defy all magic, science, and logic, known as Cheat Skills, these Strangers all have the capabilities of bringing on the end of all times if they use their talents improperly. As such, an organization was formed, known as the Inquisition, to combat these hellspawn and send them back from the depth they’ve come from…
Currently, however, there’s one small issue. That being said, you happen to be both a Stranger and an Inquisitor. You are Asher Riven and while normally you’d be babysitting the seemingly much more important Princess Lorina de Lindan, it’s about half a decade too early for her to join the Inquisition and she's probably too busy whimsically frolicking in the blissful ignorance of still thinking her fiance, the one she always keeps raving about, loves her you’re stuck at a minor noble party in a creepy backwater fishing village. Yippee... 
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: After Ben and Ana thwart a candy-themed crook, and Ben is entrusted with a gumball that's meant to psychically implant a memory into his head, Cindy Moon finds her life turned upside down when a black dog comes looking for her, bringing news that her grandmother is alive and requests her assistance. But before she even gets a chance to visit her, Cindy is attacked and kidnapped by a new and mysterious organization known as "Cradle", that employs the use of young superheroes to do their dirty work. And to Cindy's surprise, she discovers that her mother is not only alive, but she's actually running this organization!
Ben, still under the impression that Cindy was in mortal danger, managed to convince the Kaiju King to summon his ward down to Monster Metropolis. And Cindy, now ripped from her mother's grasp once more, is left with the staggering realization that she possesses the spiritual power of a particularly dangerous fox demon.
How will Cindy's life change from here? Can she trust her family, or even her own patron god, not to hide the truth from her? Will Ben be able to protect her from Skul and his army 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! 
Nine years ago King Aiden Perenolde betrayed the Alliance and sided with the Horde of Orgrim Doomhammer. Nine years ago Prince Alric Perenolde, the second heir of Alterac was sent into exile for his own protection. This exile turned permanent and Captain Normand Garside, your guardian for the past nine years made sure that you were safe and learned the useful skills that would help you in the future.
Now you are ready to carry the responsibility and unite the scattered Alteraci people and reclaim the lands that were once the Kingdom of Alterac.
The push into the gnoll held territory has started with a flanking maneuver. Taking the army west towards Darrowmere River and then into South Durnholde Hills. Your cavalry had hopefully fooled the gnolls to think of you coming directly at them, while in reality your army slips past the gnolls and you can strike into their soft backsides.
That is at least the plan, but you know that rarely plans go as intended. Soon the troubles started, you got caught in a magical trap laid by the mages of Dalaran during the Second War, but you managed to escape thanks to your magic training and the Fel inside you.
Next you faced Lord Colonel Othmar Garithos trying to claim the campaign's leadership position in a duel. But that buffoon had underestimated you badly and you branded, quite literally, his buttocks with the Cinder Sword. Without that ass around being a pain in the ass, your position as the Lord Commander of the Expeditionary Force was on a solid foundation. No one could threaten your position and you could concentrate fully on removing the gnoll threat once and for all.
Welcome to Alterac Resurgent Quest!
…
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MedivhQM
/qst/ Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Alterac%20Resurgent%20Quest
Prince Alric Stats: https://pastebin.com/rysxdRsv
Quest Mechanisms: https://pastebin.com/CyD88qqf
Character List: https://pastebin.com/FkYd6wkJ
Side Character Stats: https://pastebin.com/aRfyksUG 
The King, St. Klaus IV, is dead, at the age of 114. He has Fathered No heirs. He has named No successors. His Wife, Queen Majesty Gertie II, has not been seen in the public eye for 2 months. There are rumors she has contracted Peppermint Rot, A ghastly plague, That makes bones brittle, Movement difficult, and death, certain. St. Klaus IV was a robust man, a fearless warrior, and a beloved king. His Subjects adored him, and his enemies, At worst, respected his ability to rule. He is to be given the sobriquet, The Uniter, for his deft hand in war and diplomacy.
However, with the king dead, and the Count of Jollyforst, Edwin Gumdrop, A kind, but weak elf, next in line for the throne, the Empire sits at a precipice.
Speak of secession billows through courts like a Highwinter gale.
Grilla, High-Chief-Matron of the Ogre Clans, Sallies her forces.
Grinch bandits, Sensing the weakness, plunder from merchants crossing the Plum Road.
Rogue Sorcerers Dominate isolated who-villages and Craft-Warrens
The High Krampus is calling for another crusade.
Tomten Holds Bar their doors.
Kallikantzaroi, like vultures, begin to appear, watching the goings on with unspoken malice.
All manner of monster ebb from the Snow frosted Forests
And more...
Naughtiness shall prevail, unless... 
"God was confused. Why did man not want to be saved?"
-Unknown, dated M26
You may have made a mistake.
---
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. 
Past Thread: >>6115274
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Missval
General Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/5hFQZtc3
Character Sheet (As of the end of Thread #5): https://pastebin.com/xA4G6LMk
Twitter/X account for important announcements, contact and stuff (It has cobwebs! I also am in the Quest General discord). https://x.com/MissvalQM
Your name is Shelly Suzume. You’re now officially a member of the White Fang. You’re still adjusting to it, and it has its ups and downs. You’re not that much into the ‘anti-human’ thing. You just want to help people, and right now Faunus are the group most in need of your support (plus, you owe a few favors to Taylor, the leader-boss of this branch here in Kuchinashi).
You recently had a tense conversation with the leader of the entire organization, Sienna Khan. Unfortunately, the talk wasn’t what you would call comfortable. The discussion stemmed from a recent tragedy. One of her family members (Aunt?) was killed by someone… or something. Plenty of other members of your branch lost their lives too, and so you went to go enact some justice for the fallen. You promised her that.
And to put it mildly, this has been one of your worst days you’ve had so far.
------ 
Welcome to /qtg/, a place to talk about quests.
Previous thread
>>6120952
>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:
How do you carve out around the holidays (or whenever you're busy) for questing, or do you just take a break? Do you have any advice for aspiring QMs who might not have the same time management skills?
>Player question:
Do you ever not contribute to discussions in-thread because it feels like other players are more into it/more knowledgeable? Or do you try to drive discussion no matter what? Is there anything you wish QMs were more clear on?
>General question(a):
If you could give one thing, even something immaterial, to one QM (including yourself) what would it be and who would you give it to?
>General question(b):
Have the recent changes to the site made you less eager to quest? Do you sometimes open the post box and just close the window and walk away if you have to wait?
>Lurker question:
Don't be a scrooge, vote!!!
>Miscellaneous question:
Do you celebrate a holiday this time of year? If so, how do you celebrate? 
The disfigured colossus drops to the ocean with one last hellish scream as a parting gift, with a burst of water swirling up as a bonus, and issuing a calming rain as the astonishment settles in everyone’s faces. All it took was a missile hitting the weak spot created by the giant fireball to slay the beast once and for all. Whatever happens to what’s left of it is for the waves to decide. Agent Beef and the others delivered the final blow, and your escape is all secured!
“[HAEIOU, HAEIOU, HAEIOU, HAEIOU, HAEIOU!!!]” The terrifying laughter of a Calamity echoes through this victory! “[MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.]”
The exuberance is in the air, your ears are almost drowned by the cheers coming from HQ!
“HAHAHA! Yeah! Get fucked!” Odetta loves her explosions! She’s grinning like you haven’t seen her do ever since the painting became a thing. What a way with words she has.
“It’s dead! It’s really really mega dead! Oh my god! Oh my god, yes!” Aurora claps excitedly, then high-fives with Spooky, and she matches her excitement! Then Honey Bunny goes back to clinging onto you.
“I’ll never get used to being chased by this kind of crap…” You half-joke. Neither your Courage or Philonune can convince you otherwise.
“I was… so concerned for a moment.” Lady Steen puts her hands over your shoulder and sighs in relief. She wasn’t having a great time, and it wasn’t merely due to Rora being all over you. “But what was that?”
“Reinforcements…” You smile. “Sweet, sweet reinforcements.”
“The Buffalo… came here with a bazooka…?” Dossenius can’t believe this.
“I… I N-NEVER SAID A W-WORD ABOUT SACRIFICING HIM!” Hubbard covers his bases.
“Shut up. We’re not safe yet. Let’s get out of here before we get too comfortable.” Suan De puts everyone’s minds back on the mission.
“All eyes on the job, huh? You’ll become a really useful recurring business partner.” Lady Steen believes she got another worthwhile contact. As long as she doesn’t leave your hobo drained like the guy she’s carrying, you don’t think anything bad will come out of this.
“Y-Yes! Got it! That’s my cue!” Aurora leads her entity towards Agent Beef and the others. Crossbill, Agent Mage, and Solomon Strangelove are waiting.
Honey Bunny leads you all towards the grand exit through what remains of the bridge. It doesn't take long as you covered a lot of space during the escapade. There isn’t enough space for everyone on the Buffalo, you got 5 more heads dangling on — so the bunny keeps on working! You can catch up with the people on the horned buddy by matching their speed. 
You were reincarnated into another world, got overpowered cheat skills, and were surrounded by hot women. Pretty bog standard isekai stuff, but you wouldn't change this life for anything.
Instead of spending your empty days alone in your room, you found purpose in this new life as a tinkerer and a pilot. Gone was your fear of intimacy, your wife carrying your child inside of her as the ultimate proof of that conquest. Also you had six wives, and they all happened to be your happily consenting slaves.
Hey, that's just how this world worked, you (probably) didn't make the rules. Your first wife did, along with the rest of the universe. Her name is Herta--the Goddess of Artifice and Creation--and she was the biggest masochist you knew. Despite all her quirks (and almost paradoxical arrogance) she was still your first wife and closest companion, happily following your every order. All of your wives obeyed and desired you, but none went as far as your cute goddess.
Yeah, life is pretty good.
===
You're in the middle of working yourself to a sweat, Lunacy Savantae giving you the energy and inspiration to create great things. You had already made a mech, a point of pride for you. Sadly it was locked in your estate's dock, too large to carry along. It might not be a terrible idea to make an airship specifically designed to carry it someday...
Anyway, you used iron ingots--provided kindly by your fit catgirl wife, Cattleya--and other materials for your latest creation: an airship.
(Used up 1,300lbs of metal ingots to create the airship)
(1,000lbs of scrap turned to ingots from Cattleya's work)
It's a beautiful vessel, one that you've been working tirelessly to form.
You probably wouldn't have enough ingots to finish it were it not for the technical improvements done by Ruby Rose, another wife of yours and a self-proclaimed mastermind schemer (although privately you'd come to realize most of her plans tended to fall flat on her face from her love of overthinking things).
On it's sides are small retractable clockwork cannons that pop out of the hull. A larger, more intimidating, iron cannon on the deck could be manually manned. It didn't compare to the BoatMech's firepower but they were a good deterrent for any enemies you might happen to encounter.
Small pods with retractable propellers acted as lifeboats, just in case you all needed to be evacuated.
It was designed to be large enough to comfortably hold wives, guests, food, and cargo to sell. Of these products you'd mostly brought cotton, textiles, clothing, iron, and the giant pearl (mostly to get it appraised rather than sold, since it was a gift from a friend). A few clankers and some automatic sewing machines Herta made were brought along as well.
Finally, it was done. Though you couldn't celebrate yet, you still had to leave for the Centrian City. 
"You are watching BNN, Brython News Network!" The words bouncing around the empty classroom, "Following President Saie'di's invasion of the tiny nation of Hajazz, Alliance forces have mustered along the border to drive out the Ashuri Ground Forces." You remembered the words that you told yourself back in the officer's academy: the best officers ensure the least amount of losses are required to accomplish their objectives. Pulling some strings, you managed to get your hands on an excerpt about yourself that higher-ups would look at before shuffling you around on your first combat experience.
>Name:[Lucian Bedford]
>Formation:[Taskforce Dragoon]
>Note:[Following the family tradition of the Saphidic North West from the Unified Estates of Merica, he copied his father and uncle, who would become officers in the Merico Army. Unfortunately, the stubby horns on his head are a dead giveaway to Tiefling ancestry, and he would face constant bullying from his peers. We believe that this has led to him being more than willing to take offensive options when given the chance. For this operation, such a trait will be a boon.]
>Difficulty:[Wolf] This is a traditional story of leading multi-national troops of the Alliance through a progressively harder war with plenty of firepower to compensate for any mistakes. Where things may get stuck, you can always rely on brute strength to overpower your opponents.
>Name:[Emilio d'Armas]
>Formation:[14e Legionnaire Chasseur]
>Note:[Although coming from potionally organized crime, his relatively rapid progress shows that he is one of the brighter graduates. The Extérieur Légion and the proud tradition of allowing any foreigner membership has worked in our favor this time. This operation will be the first time in over 2 decades that the Legion will be facing conventional warfare. We need officers who will think outside the box since we won't have an endless supply of resources at our disposal.]
>Difficulty:[Fox] The Ashuri Ground Forces you will face will outnumber you. They are entrenched, and you will be progressing through unfavorable terrain. You must be able to outwit and outmaneuver enemy forces if your Alliance forces are to stand a chance. Thankfully, at least all your troops speak the same language.
>Name:[Alif Başir]
>Note:[Confirmed to be of Elfri ancestors, clan Başir is the direct line of the Mamaluk slave warriors from the time of the Ozerman Empire. It should come as no surprise that, like her mother, her grandmother, and all the mothers before her, she would have some tie to the military. Make sure she doesn't rise too far in the ranks. Her aunt, Derya Başir, was a member of the 4th army coup back in the 70's. We must keep an eye on her. 
Earth. Fire. Air. Water. Only the Avatar can master all four elements and bring balance to the world. But the new Avatar, a timid young Water Tribe girl named Itiqqa hasn’t even begun to master herself. Can she bring balance to the world?
=====
Welcome to Avatar: The New Age! As the opening and name of the quest imply, this will be taking place in a similar timeframe as Legend of Korra, though Aang died a few years later and a lot of the stupid shit from the comics and Korra won’t be making an appearance. I’m not saying this will be a fixfic, but I am saying that the only good part of this franchise is the original series. A couple of Korra episodes and like 2/5ths of the contents of the novels are okay too, I guess. What I’m saying is, don’t expect magic carpets, dykes, enbies, or to be able to metagame too hard. Now, without further ado:
=====
Previously on Avatar: During a tour of Air Temple Island, Ainu, a Kyoshi Warrior and new arrival in Union City, had a chance meeting with the new Avatar. The new Avatar, Itiqqa is a diffident young girl who feels unready to take on the responsibilities of the Avatar. Ainu, along with Itiqqa and Noyon, a streetwise teen Ainu met who turned out to be an airbender, quickly found themselves on the run from both the Union City police and the White Lotus who were both searching for the missing Avatar. After escalating encounters with the city’s gangs and the radical Equalists, the trio was seemingly saved by Tarrlok, a member of the United Federation Council.
>1/3 
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 758. 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 
In the Luxion Empire, convicted criminals are made to repay the damage they have done to society through labour. After all, the state cannot be expected to provide food and lodgings for free to the parasites of society at the expense of the honest contributors, to whom it gives no such luxury. The work done by criminals as atonement by law must be toward public services. Petty criminals are given the option to do manual labour for the duration of their sentence, building and repairing roads, walls, railways, and other public works. However the worst criminals, the murderers, the rapists, the traitors, if they are not executed, are made to join...
The Prison Battalion.
A lone wooden cart trundled along the old flagstone road, the bumps jolting the uncomfortable occupants in the back. You are one of these condemned men...
>Vateus Aren, disgraced former military official and convicted traitor. You were found guilty of aiding the recent failed military coup against the Empress. Normally a man guilty of this crime would be executed, however the evidence against you at your trial was not strong enough to warrant a death sentence. Only one conspirator named you as a co-conspirator, and all other evidence against you was circumstantial. This was, of course, because you are innocent.
>James Dixon, an innkeeper. You had always been an honest man and obeyed the law your whole life. But when you found your wife in bed with that louse, you lost control. The betrayal was too much for you. You admitted everything at the trial, apologised, and begged for the mercy of the court. At least they spared you the noose.
>"Quiet" Tom Wiggins, a serial thief and burglar. You might have landed a safer sentence on a chain gang if that last job hadn't gone wrong. But regrettably, that new crew were rookies. Regrettably, those idiots alerted that guard. And regrettably, you acted quickly and did what you had to do to stop the alarm being raised and stay free. Or so you thought. While you were preoccupied with hiding the body, you were the only one to not escape the warehouse before the patrol came in. Now you've copped a murder conviction, and you're guilty as sin.
>Ned Tanner, a simple tanner as your name would suggest. When girls started to go missing from your village, eyes were turned towards you straight away. You were always an outcast, always distrusted. Everyone always thought there was something wrong with you. Someone might have been forgiven for pitying you as a victim of baseless rumours, until the constables found the bodies in vats in your tannery. 
"The honour of knighthood came first among the civilised people among the Latins of the Middle Kingdom. The art of sword and lance was birthed in the iron years when the kingship was abroad with the barbarians. The Frankomen of the great kingdom have forgotten them, since - though we remember." - The Chronicle of San-Koryu Abbey, The Writings of St. Go-Apsimar the Bladesman
You drink from a laquerwood cup and hold your chest tight to keep from coughing. The conversation around you has dulled - your fellow gentlemen knelt at the low table have emptied their cups and plates both, and look around muttering as if not one has any further tale to tell - at last a young northerner, fellow with the Emishi look about him, looks to you, and asks if you've any tale for the company - from whence do you come?
>You are of noble blood, for certain, but from where did your family come?
>The northern marches of Kyumar, the great-isle, an aristocrat settled among the knights there when the shoguns first marched north.
>The Isle of Pearls, in the distant south - you are of foreign stock, merchants of tea and lacquer with the burghers of Baek and Sildon
>The Curia itself! You are descended from a distant offshoot of the consecrated line of Christ's daughter, from whence the Saint-emperors spring. Certainly you are poorer now. You wake up in a room with a small stool, a large artillery shell and a barred window.
What'chu gonna do? 
Nestled in the heart of the known world lies the vast and diverse continent of Telurya, a land where many races live side by side, each with their own customs, cultures, and ideals. From the towering mountains of the north to the sprawling forests and plains of the south, Telurya is a place of both harmony and conflict, where ancient traditions clash with new ideas, and untold adventures await those brave enough to explore its depths.
The continent is divided by two major factions:
The Northerners
In the frozen wilderness of the north, a proud and fierce people known only as the Northerners have made their home. These beasts, who come in all shapes and sizes—ranging from towering, muscular creatures to more nimble, wolf-like beings—are known for their connection to the harsh land that shaped them. Their society is built around survival, strength, and honor, where the bond between tribe members is unbreakable. Whether they are formidable warriors, powerful shamans, or expert hunters, the Northerners rely on their innate connection to the land and the beasts that inhabit it. They are a nomadic people, their clans spread across the tundra and mountains, always on the move, always adapting. While their ways may seem primitive to outsiders, they hold a deep respect for nature and the spirits that govern the land.
The Southerners
In stark contrast, the Southerners represent the more traditional races of the world—humans, elves, dwarves, and halflings. These civilizations have flourished in the more temperate and fertile lands of the south, where agriculture, trade, and magical innovation thrive. The Southerners are known for their advanced cities, rich cultures, and often complex politics. While humans are the most numerous of the southern races, the elves and dwarves maintain ancient traditions, and the halflings are known for their charm and hospitality. The Southerners value knowledge, diplomacy, and the arts, and their societies are governed by a mixture of monarchy, council, and merchant influence. Though they live in relative peace, the competition for power between these races is fierce, and not all is as harmonious as it may seem.
The balance between these two factions has been a fragile one, and as tensions rise, the future of Telurya hangs in the balance. Will the Northerners push southward, bringing their savage strength to bear? Or will the Southerners find a way to coexist with the beastly tribes, or perhaps even unite against a greater threat?
Select a faction, a theme appropriate race and a biome. If you so desire, point out in the map where you want to start out. In the world of Hainei, there are many groups in many places, always stirring with machinations unfolding as they move. The goals of the many often lead them into conflict. The probability is always high.
~~~
This quest is a side story that takes place in the universe of Chaos: The Quest for Redemption. New readers are encouraged to start from the beginning to grasp the context of what you are about to witness.
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Levelman
Questcord: https://discord.gg/JFAMdJskHn
Wiki: https://chaosquest.miraheze.org/wiki/Main_Page Risk Straya is going pretty slow so I'm opening up a parallel game
This map was proposed by TED during the summer game and I've been excited to see it played
INSTRUCTIONS:
Select a name, color, and location to start playing
type "dice+1d6" to roll the dice for your number of attacks or defenses
You Will receive a (+1) for every area you completely occupy (Marked by the thick boarders) The conception. The miracle of life. This is where it all begins. You are the egg that was released at the right time and you are the first successful sperm to meet the egg. You start your existence now.
>Roll 1d2 to determine if you implant successfully in the uterus. 
The light of the full moon shines upon you and your peers as you stand in the open courtyard of the academy. The sky is clear, with not a single cloud to obscure the gaze of the stars.
A name is called---but not yours---and a child steps forward onto a stone platform.
"Place both hands on the orb," says the archmagus.
The child complies. As his palms make contact with the glass-like surface of the orb, a faint white glow lights up from within its hitherto pitch black interior.
The light gradually grows brighter until its luminosity stabilises, whence it begins taking on a pale blue sheen, like that of hydrangeas. Throughout the entire process, the child remains motionless, as if in a trance.
"A very fine result." The archmagus strokes his long grey beard. "Welcome to the academy."
With a gleeful smile, the child skips back to the crowd and more people are called. Not all elicit a reaction from the orb, but among those that do, the light emitted varies wildly in brightness, colour, and intensity.
Finally, it is your turn. The orb up close is far larger than you expected, almost twice the diameter of your thirteen-year-old cranium. You glance at the archmagus. His figure towers over you; and from where you stand, his visage appears obscured by the wide trim of his pointed hat.
"Go on," he prods, gesturing with his staff for you to proceed.
As your hands get closer to the orb, a sense of unease begins building in the pit of your stomach. It reaches its zenith as you make contact, culminating in what you can only describe as a jolt of pure energy bursting from every inch of skin on your body that leaves you disoriented.
When you come to your senses, you find yourself in a space of infinite blackness, stretching on and on in all directions. However, you still feel your feet planted on firm ground.
Before you can react, a blinding light violently forks towards you, accompanied by a great roar. It fills you with a vision of...
>A fractured sky with obsidian clouds thrashed about by howling winds.
>A colossal wave marching through the void, bringing along with it effulgent sparks on its crest.
>Folds in the void opening up like eyelids, revealing a massive eye staring right back at you. You are still William sparred with self-lighting firefighters, beat the shit out of the voices in your head, and now preparing to go back to university that descended into a multi-way gang fight. 
First thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78475385/
Part 2: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78533839
Part 3: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78583130/
Part 4: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78620743
Part 5: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78673520
Part 6: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78741798
Part 7: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78798673
Part 8: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4766508
Part 9: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4801549
Part 10: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4864481
Part 11: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2021/4980716/
Part 12: (Forgot to archive it waaa)
And the New Discord Link: https://discord.gg/bjwNytCRYR
>”Chief archivist, overlord, master-” Sannet reverently uttered.
>His chief curator Sannet, knelt before him as a show of obeisance.
>”Solemnace rejoices at your return, lord-”
>Trazyn carried on past his curator, deeper into the gallery chamber.
>Sannet would rise and carry on behind him “A successful endeavor, my lord?”
>”A most successful endeavor indeed.” Trazyn chuckled.
>Trazyn triumphantly held up the familiar shape of a vermilion cube, a tesseract labyrinth.
>”A most SUCCESSFUL endeavor indeed” He repeated. 
Summer has finally arrived, and with it, the chance to dive into the digital worlds that promise adventure and escape. You’re Jack Malone, a high school sophomore with time to burn and not a lot of cash to spend. After hearing the buzz about *Battle for Athera*, the latest MMORPG captivating players across the globe, you’re ready to give it a try. The game boasts sprawling landscapes, intense battles, and a unique twist: you can choose to fight for justice as a valiant hero—or embrace the darkness and play as a monster.
But there’s a catch. Playing as a hero costs a steep $20 monthly subscription, not to mention the temptation of endless microtransactions. With your wallet nearly as empty as your fridge, the choice is clear. You'll be starting your journey as a monster. It’s free-to-play, after all, and you relish the idea of clawing your way up from the bottom, earning your power the hard way.
The game boots up with a fanfare of orchestral music, and soon, the character creation screen appears. Five grotesque, low-level monsters glare back at you, each with its own strengths and weaknesses.
The question looms: Which monster will you choose? 
In the dawn of civilization, where humanity takes its first faltering steps toward order and progress, you rise from the mists of obscurity, a being of unparalleled might and mystery. You are no mere mortal—your very presence inspires awe and terror. Whether born from ancient magic, forged in the fires of the earth, or summoned by forces beyond comprehension, your power eclipses that of the common folk like a blazing sun outshines the stars.
The villages are fragile and disorganized, their people too preoccupied with survival to dream of greatness. They huddle together, building simple shelters, planting meager crops, and whispering fearful prayers to spirits they cannot see. Yet you stand apart, your strength undeniable, your potential limitless.
The world itself seems to acknowledge your presence. The earth trembles beneath your steps, storms gather at your command, and the faint-hearted flee before your shadow. You see the cracks in the fragile order of early society, and you realize this nascent world is a blank slate—a canvas on which you can paint your legacy.
Why should you bow to the whims of lesser beings? With your gifts, you could forge an empire, become a deity in the eyes of mortals, or bend their fledgling societies to your will. Whether you will rule with wisdom and justice, reshape the world in your vision, or crush all who oppose you beneath your heel, the choice is yours.
But power does not come without its burdens. For all your strength, there is something within or around you that holds you back—a curse, a flaw, or a challenge that even you must face. This weakness, small as it may seem now, has the potential to unravel your plans if left unchecked.
The world is yours to command, but greatness comes with a price. What will yours be? 
You are Kuroda Haruka and King Lot of Lothian, Orkney and Camelot.
It's been an interesting week, you've sparred against Dread Agreste, learned a bit more about the personalities populating Camelot like the Candy Maker and Spy, tried to figure out more about the Romans and their empire and got gifted a very useful Relic by Emperor Lucius Hiberius.
Of course, getting something nice and useful doesn't mean that Lucius Hiberius is genuinely interested in befriending you. It seems more like the opening of trying win an oath of fealty to make her Kingdom more powerful. Also, she placed a bounty on capturing 'Queen Guinevere' alive because she fancies the boy... No matter how you think on that, it's not a comfortable discovery.
Oh, and you discovered that Avalon is the grave of many Lost Children gone widdershin'. You've learned the existence of such Blessed as King Urien of Gorre, Augustus and King Pellinore.
Depressing.
Better to focus on the potential to Gate to the island of Romulus through the escaped slave Arminox. The enslaved dollman escaped from the Roman ship, Zama, and is in your custody. If you get gather enough Mana, the Anarchists will attempt to make the journey.
With that goal in mind and the return of the Guides from the Quarries and their resupply of Stones, you are ready to start raiding the World in the morning!
But first, you need to discover who died and cause the stars to fall. Yatagarasu the Guide has suggested going to the Temple...
Past threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=villainess
Character sheet https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cAkKYIXfbFfyBIXMxgzBtCFPGWJTBrFQe0b2hoQZfKw/edit?usp=sharing 
-- -- -- ? X X X
You wake up before the alarm rings, that's a first. However, for perhaps the first time since you've been trapped in this timeloop, you look forward to today, that's because your spirit finally managed to get you a way to remember a certain someone. All that's written on that note is that you have a girlfriend, that you're forgetting her, and that you should not betray her trust here, but that's enough for you.
Sure, you can't remember her face, or what she sounds like, or what kind of person she is, or why you even loved her, but that's fine! As long as this note exists, you know that you have someone to come back to, so you won't do something you might regret later in this temporal prison. Speaking of temporal prison, now would be a good time to reiterate what you know about your situation thus far.
For one, it's possible for someone in the loop to figure out that something is wrong using those fumes that Claire inhaled. You're not sure how helpful of an info that is, but it might at the very least convince some people here of what you're going through. Another is that 'M', a powerful being you've interacted with for a short time, is as described by your spirit 'knowledgeable, powerful, immature' and to 'not listen to them, find your own solution'.
You've also found out that Claire has a crush on you, but you doubt returning her feeling is enough to get out of the loop, not like you would even if you had to. Worst case scenario, you can stall until a teacher wakes you up from this nightmare.
That should cover most of what you've learned about the loop, you cover your loop immune note with a book, so your parents don't mess with it, and get prepared for school. Usual banter from your parents, Claire waiting for you at the door, offering the brush- damnit, you forgot to brush your hair AGAIN.
Claire smiles at you on your way to school. "You look happy today, did something happen?"
You DO feel in a good mood now that you don't need to constantly strain your mind remembering that girl. You should ride that happy feeling while it lasts.
>Going through the school as normal doesn't do much, maybe you could skip classes while staying inside the school instead?
>Explore the city with Claire
>Go through the school as normal, maybe you'll get an opportunity to talk to your parents about something if they aren't angry at you for skipping.
>Maybe you should treat Claire a little. You don't need to return her feeling, you can just try to be extra nice today.
>Something else? (Write in) ...ah. It appears as though you are a THANKSGIVING TURKEY. Your demise is imminent. What will you do?
>Accept your fate.
>Do not.
>Write-in. 
His wail was liable to wake the dead. His brother and two others held him back with a tender expectation that any moment he might test their grip. He did. It seemed he might even make it to her, but his brother caught a wrist and wrestled him back. The muddy thoroughfare was laden with people, silent but for an occasional sob rising into the cold morning air. All eyes were on the palanquin.
It was flat, open-topped, solidly built, unadorned. On it lay seven bodies, eight now as the Sonziz lifted her into the last of the open space. Fourteen, maybe fifteen years old. The cheeks gave it away, though they’d already started to wither despite the effort put on her by whichever amateur took the task. Skin brushed and clean, powder and pale cream, lips daubed bright. The other half of her face was sallow though, lips receding, skin starting to fall down into the canyons of her skull. There was a harsh line at the nose where the amateur had stopped, shaken no doubt by the sound of the bell. Nobody expected a second tithe.
The man wailed again. Higher pitched than one would think him capable considering his bulk. He spilled small, fragile pieces of her name into his hands as the fight left him, drop by drop.
“Mi-mir-m-e.”
His breath began to race, the fact that she was being taken becoming real. It did to everyone eventually. Some small, small spark of hope blossomed in him. It did for everyone, eventually. His eyes turned towards you. Everyone’s did, eventually.
“M-marcel! You can’t let them! She was free…they can’t take her, we already paid. P-please. GIVE HER BACK TO ME!”
He lunged for the palanquin with every mote of wrath left to him. He slipped his brother, the butcher, and the chandler, red-eyed with wet cheeks. He reached for her before you could speak…but it wasn’t fast enough, it never was. One of the Sonziz moved like a sunlit snake and the man’s arm was cracked in half at the elbow, flapping back toward his shoulder as the momentum spun him into the mud at your feet. The splatter sprayed out over your boots, his stoppered breaths made bubbles. He started crying again as you lowered yourself to sit on your heels.
“It’s over, paire. It’s over. There was nothing you could do. Remember that.” 
The stars blur past you as you make a tight turn around a barren moon. Your ship, the Viper Strike, hums with the familiar sound of its powerful engines, the vibrations running through your hands as you grip the controls. Your HUD flickers, updating the mission log: Locate General Raxos Valen and neutralize the threat.
But something doesn’t feel right. Your sensors ping, picking up an unusual anomaly just beyond the asteroid field ahead—something's off. There’s a faint distress signal, masked by an interference wave. It's not on any of the known frequencies and definitely not part of the bounty.
Curiosity gnaws at you. You've spent enough time navigating the underbelly of the galaxy to know when something doesn’t add up. This signal—it's too deliberate, too hidden. Whoever sent it didn’t want anyone to find it, and that’s exactly why you’re headed toward it now.
The stars ahead shimmer with a strange intensity, and as you glide into the uncharted nebula, you spot a debris field. Wreckage from what appears to be an abandoned research station. But there's no sign of Valen or his fleet.
Only more questions. You bring the Viper Strike in for a closer look, weaving between scattered metal pieces as the ship’s sensors try to lock onto the distress beacon. The signal grows stronger, pulling you further into the depths of space.
Suddenly, a new message flashes across your console:
“If you’re reading this, it’s already too late. The Core is real. Valen must not find it. You are the only one who can stop him.”
Your breath catches in your throat. The Core. You’ve heard rumors, old whispers about a powerful artifact capable of manipulating space and time. You didn’t think it was more than myth.
But now, you're not so sure.
What will you do next?
> Investigate the wreckage: You approach the research station's wreckage to search for more clues, hoping to find some information that will explain the message.
> Follow the distress signal: You decide to track the source of the signal, heading deeper into the nebula, despite the risks of what you might encounter.
> Contact your employer: You send a quick message to your employer, updating them on the situation and asking for advice on how to handle the new developments.
> Exit the nebula: Something feels off. You can leave now, heading toward the bounty’s original target and avoiding whatever lies in the nebula.
> Activate stealth mode: You engage the ship’s stealth systems, preparing to quietly monitor the area without drawing attention to yourself.
> Write in 
Welcome to QUEST ART GENERAL, a quest for showcasing the art of your quest and its characters! Players of all skill levels are welcome!
Quest mechanics:
1. Don't be a spamshit. Multiple posts are fine but keep it below Souv level.
2: You are free to draw/post work of others' characters, but no begging.
3. Keep it SFW. This is a blue board. If you feel the need for otherwise, link it in the thread so it doesn't get nuked.
4. No dramafagging/vendettafagging, or blatant shitting on others' art. Again, this is a quest to draw and vibe about art, /qst/ OCs, and their respective lore.
5. If someone does give you fanart of your quest/character, be sure to thank that anon for their hard work as soon as you can, it's just common courtesy :)
Drawing Resources:
https://pastebin.com/Dbyjxmfd
LOOMIS:
> https://alexhays.com/loomis/
Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain (user recommended):
> https://www.drawright.com/
Animation resources:
> http://www.theanimatorssurvivalkit.com/
Iterative Drawing - The Fastest Way to Improve:
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0ufz75UvHs
How to Draw Interesting Poses:
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1nxf5KQ2Js
Anatomy Quick Tips: Hands:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hzl3eaxAJpo
Painting like a Sculptor:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zC3OxonJcXQ
Basic Drawing for Digital Painters (Shape Control):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyu-bbWkGTU
How to Draw Hair:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHewz3JbKrQ
User-recommended art channels:
https://www.youtube.com/@Sycra
https://www.youtube.com/@sinixdesign 
Welcome back.
We're back. Sorry for the long hiatus but life got a bit hectic there.
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 time, Fluffy learned Body Press and Cosmic Power, you reflected on the Golden Rule, you got to know Martha a bit more and you got in a double battle with a pair of triathletes. 
The world felt unreal, a dizzying descent into chaos. You were walking home from school, your mind preoccupied with trivial worries—homework, what to eat for dinner—when a drunken man staggered into your path. His glassy eyes locked on you, his movements unsteady but deliberate. You tried to sidestep him, but he lunged, grabbing your arm with surprising strength.
"Get off me!" you shouted, kicking and struggling against his grip. Despite your resistance, his sheer weight began to overpower you. Panic surged as you realized this wasn’t just a random assault; his gaze was wild, feral. He lunged for your neck—not to punch or grab, but to *bite.*
A blur of motion interrupted your terror. Uzuma, one of your classmates, appeared seemingly out of nowhere. With a fierce yell, he tackled the man, dragging him off you. Relief flooded you, but it was short-lived. The struggle turned gruesome as the man sank his teeth into Uzuma's arm, tearing into flesh.
"Run!" Uzuma shouted, his voice strained but urgent. Without thinking, you obeyed, adrenaline propelling your legs forward. Uzuma was right behind you, clutching his injured arm, but as you ran, his pace slowed. His breathing grew labored, guttural.
"Uzuma?" you called hesitantly, looking over your shoulder. To your horror, his face had twisted into something inhuman—his eyes glassy, his teeth bared in a snarl. He lunged at you with unnatural speed.
Heart pounding, you sprinted down the street, weaving through the chaos. The world had descended into madness. The once-familiar roads were now filled with grotesque creatures—people turned into monsters, their flesh mottled and decayed.
You darted into an alley, your chest heaving as you screamed, the sound echoing off the narrow walls. Just when you thought all hope was lost, a door creaked open beside you. A man, dressed head-to-toe in latex, peeked out. His appearance was bizarre—like he’d stepped out of some underground nightclub—but his wide, fearful eyes reflected your own terror.
"Get in!" he hissed, pulling you inside. You stumbled into a dimly lit stairwell and followed him down into what could only be described as a dungeon. Chains, whips, and all manner of equipment hung on the walls. You hesitated, thinking you’d traded one nightmare for another, but the man was oddly gentle. He stammered as he spoke, his voice nervous but kind.
"Stay quiet. They’ll hear us."
Before you could question him, the monsters broke through the door upstairs, their snarls echoing down the stairwell. The man’s face paled. "Follow me," he whispered, guiding you through a hidden exit. As you ascended into a building above, he lingered behind to secure the door.
"Go!" he shouted, but his words were cut short by a scream. You glanced back to see him overwhelmed, his body convulsing as the monsters bit into him. 
**Chapter 1: Blood and Ashes**
It was early dawn when the abbess had roused us. I was still rubbing rheum from my eyes when we'd unceremoniously shuffled out of sullen halls of St. Elise— the orphanage I'd spent the 16 years and three seasons of my life— and into a truck, cramped and packed with about two-dozen or so prospective soldaten for the Emethian war-horde.
The gruel we'd eaten early in the morn stung acrid at the back of my throat for each lurching turn we took towards Raubzpich. I was doing my best not to stain my clothes, pressing my face into my moth-eaten rucksack with the little belongings I still had. I remember the deafening pitter-patter of rain against canvas, the flickering shadows cast by the singular swaying oil lamp illuminating the cabin, and the occasional flash of lightning that burned through my eyelids before the boom of thunder would rattle my bones. When we'd arrived at our destination, they said it was only noon, but the storm had blocked out the sun, and I could scarcely avoid tripping over my worn shoes as we were herded into the fort, a lumbering crowd of children no older than eighteen, shivering and smelling of rain trudging through the mud, following the lights of the officers like giant silken moths.
We were first forced to relieve ourselves of our belongings, then our hair, then our clothes. After that, we were *inspected*.
No, measured. Holes violated, eyes, ears, teeth, and gums scrutinized, dark blood drawn and spit collected into twin glass vials. The crook of my elbow still stung when we were forced into the showers, as the mage who'd drawn my blood took a sample of my humors twice after the first needle had bent painfully into my flesh.
I shuffled under a waiting showerhead, averting my eyes from the nude forms of conscripts readily chatting away around me, preferring to stare at the blotches of scarlet rushing down my skin, between the tiles, and into the drain. I reached out, fingers grazing the copper dial, twisting it slowly. My eyes fluttered shut as a torrent of warmth surged over my skin, driving the chill from my bones. St. Elise didn't have warm baths, just a rag and a bucket you had to draw water from the well outside yourself.
I wasn't quite sure if I could get used to the life as a conscript just yet, but this was a definite plus.
1/3 
The city of Astralor has long since fallen from grace. Its towering spires, once symbols of unmatched power and wealth, now loom over a decaying labyrinth of corruption, darkness, and despair. The elite indulge in their decadence within gilded halls, while the streets below fester with the forgotten, the damned, and the desperate. Beneath the glittering surface, there is no light, only shadow — and in that shadow, The Hollow Garden thrives.
The Hollow Garden is a brothel like no other. Here, the city’s most powerful men and women come not only to satisfy their desires but to bury their darkest secrets. And for Agna, a woman cursed with a strange gift, those secrets are what keep her alive.
Agna’s eyes do not see what others see; they peer into the soul. She can read the deepest desires, the unspoken fears, and the hidden truths of anyone she touches. This ability has made her both a prized possession and a prisoner to the city’s elite. The powerful come to her with their burdens, seeking release — but it is Agna who bears the weight of their sins, their shame, their hidden cruelties. It is a curse that leaves her cold, hollow, and disconnected from the world around her.
She plays her role, feigning a life of luxury and submission, but always with one foot poised to flee. There is no escape from Astralor, no way out of the prison she has been trapped in — until one evening, when everything changes.
A figure steps into The Hollow Garden. The Collector, they call him. His presence is unsettling, a chill in the air that clings to the skin. His eyes glint with knowledge and power far beyond that of any mortal. And he has a proposition for Agna. A dangerous proposition.
"Your gift is wasted here, Agna," he says, his voice smooth, cold — as if the words themselves are laced with poison. "I seek to bring down the corrupt rulers who have enslaved us all. But to do that, I need someone who can see beyond their masks. Someone who can guide me to their darkest secrets. You, Agna, are that someone."
> Join The Collector’s plan: Accept the Collector’s offer and use your gift to uncover the city’s most guarded secrets.
> Refuse and escape: Walk away from the Collector’s proposition and attempt to flee Astralor.
> Confront the Collector: Reject both rebellion and escape. Dig into your own past, uncovering the truth of your curse and the dark forces that have shaped your destiny. You are falling from the sky. The terrible howling of the void fills your head - you stare fixedly at the blue-white wanderer, Kar Moraeg, the planet below, and ignore the voices from between. Your distant home, the green pearl, falls away into the dark between worlds as you drop like a thunderbolt. Solar sails fan between your limbs, and you have a moment to turn before the sky-fire burns up the sails.
>Turn north, aim for the snows.
>Aim for the warm swamps of the inner belt
>Let the Moraeg guide you as it will 
After arriving in Teraburg, a city teetering on the brink of chaos, the party was forced to seek refuge there, but tensions rose quickly. Caleb, afflicted by a ghoul curse due to a vampire’s bite, was taken to the city dungeons, while the rest of the group, including Gris, attempted to find sanctuary. Meanwhile, the kobold in your group, wary of human cities, stayed hidden in the outskirts.
In Teraburg, Gris fell gravely ill, bleeding uncontrollably due to her resurrection through dragon blood. The group sought out a priest who, recognizing her unique predicament, provided her with a small vial of dragon blood—the last in his possession. He explained that Gris must consume dragon blood every few days to survive, a harsh reminder of the consequences of such a desperate resurrection. Despite her own financial struggles, Gris donated her last coins to the priest in gratitude, determined to support his work in the underfunded temple.
The group then negotiated Caleb's release from the dungeons, convincing the chief guard with a bribe and promising to take Caleb out of the city. Recognizing the dangers in traveling on foot, you purchased a wagon and horse, equipping yourselves for the journey ahead.
Before leaving Teraburg, you encountered a dark elf named Zamora, fleeing accusations of poisoning the local baron. Zamora shared her life story: a pacifist alchemist with seven children from various human partners, she had fled the oppressive society of her kind. She carried an adamantine charm—a gift from the Spider Mother—that extended her already long lifespan. Though cautious of bringing more trouble, you invited Zamora to join your group, valuing her skills in potion-making.
As you traveled, the bard in your group often sang alongside Gris, their music a welcome distraction from the hardships of the road. Heavy rain on the first day slowed progress, and on the third day, you passed an abandoned, fire-damaged tavern. It was there that you decided to summon Nabi, your dragon companion, recognizing that Gris would soon need more dragon blood.
Nabi, nearly recovered from his previous wounds, arrived but seemed uneasy, sensing danger. Moments later, a wyvern rider appeared on the horizon, circling ominously. The wyvern was massive, much larger than Nabi, and clearly searching for an opening to attack. Caleb speculated that Nabi had been fleeing from this creature when summoned.
Realizing escape was unlikely, you organized your group to prepare for battle. Ruth and Megara began crafting a powerful spell, while Zamora readied an explosive potion. Nabi and Caleb stood poised to defend, while Gris aimed to strike the rider if necessary. The wyvern descended, its screeches piercing the air, targeting one of you. The battle loomed as your party braced for the deadly confrontation ahead. 
You awaken to the silent hum of machinery and the steady glow of sterile lights that fill every corner of this strange, alien space. Metal walkways crisscross above and below, a network of endless conveyor belts and surveillance systems operated by your captors. Towering, grotesque figures, their flesh a sickly green hue, ooze with a slow, deliberate fluidity. Multiple bloodshot eyes blink in unison, casting a constant, watchful gaze across the vast chambers. These creatures wear space suits that are patchworks of bronze, copper, and chrome—complex machinery wired directly into their monstrous forms. Each suit bristles with countless mechanical arms, giving them an eerie sense of omnipresence and control, as though they can tend to a thousand tasks without breaking their unfaltering stare. (edited)
[10:56 AM]
You feel the cold weight of a chrome band encircling your wrist—a mark of your confinement here. Those around you bear the same bands, a bleak symbol of silent obedience enforced by an unseen power. You’ve heard the stories whispered among the other prisoners, stories of those who dared to question, resist, or tamper with the prison’s foreign architecture. They were met with a swift, merciless end. When the guards’ many eyes flare with a chilling, synchronized glow, the chrome bands activate. Screams echo, bodies contort, and in a matter of moments, defiance is met with decay—an agonizing transformation into a hollow, desiccated husk. The creatures show no remorse, no satisfaction, only a detached, mechanical precision. They are not here to study you or to torture you beyond the confines of this silent surveillance; they simply enforce.
This place is no ordinary prison. The boundaries of your cell are undefined, seemingly open, yet escape is a mirage. These beings, with their many eyes and tireless gaze, create an invisible barrier as strong as any wall. No one recalls how they arrived in this forsaken place, only that they are here, caught in a web woven by creatures who need neither rest nor relief. They do not seek to understand you or make you suffer.
In this cold, alien confinement, surrounded by unfamiliarity:
Who are you? 
You were just a regular person attending university in his 20s. Studies took up your days and on your free time you would choose to play video games or hang out with your friends.
That is until the intrusive thoughts came...
Friends in your dorm suddenly noticed you began acting strangely, fatigued, jumpy, anxious. Your studies began to suffer. Then your family started asking if there was something wrong as they received worrying reports from the school about your condition.
You tried to keep going as if everything was normal...and fine...and peachy....until one day you just couldn't do it anymore.
And. You. Just. SNAPPED!
(This is a CYOA where you play as a schizo in modern day and depending on your choices, your schizo can end up differently. Not all of them "good", not all of them "bad". Examples of different outcomes include being a Orthodox Christian Monk in a Monastry attempting to achieve unity with God or a O9A Satanic Neo Nazi insurgent or a wandering vagabond who collects spare bottles for cash and many more.)
For now choose the nature of your intrusive thoughts:
A.) Religious: Your Schizo is suffering from intrusive thoughts relating to that of a religious nature. Your schizo has never thought about religion before but now seems to be getting signs from the divine and has no idea what to do with it.
B.) Paranoid: It started with doubts whether your friends liked you but now it has blown into full paranoia over whether strangers want to harm you or not. Your eyes wander every corner, every nook and cranny for any possible means to bring damage to your soft supple body.
C.) Narcissistic: Your schizo is seeing himself in a brand new light. Some would say holy light if your schizo believes in such things. He at least believes himself to be a gift to humanity and sees himself as superior in almost every way and can't stand it when someone breaks his ego even in the tiniest of ways.
D.) Violent: Your schizo is suffering from violent intrusive thoughts which constantly fill him with the visualization of harming others. Cutting people, bashing their heads or breaking their bones are all thoughts that have made it to your schizo one way or another. What your schizo does in response to this is up to you.
E.) Write up your own option of what intrusive thoughts your schizo has been plagued with. 
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/2024/6098726/
Gongallaverse:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Gongalla%20Gaol
You are Rosa Montagni, and the raid on the Singularity Cult's cave had began in earnest. Working with an ex-lawman and a bandit gang with a grudge towards the cult to prevent the cultists from escaping, your team incidentally joined forces with a mime - a sort of clown special forces - to rescue the kidnapped clown kids and apprehend the cultists. But soon after freeing the kids, you face the boss of this cultist cell: a rabbit whom Millie is quite familiar with. And he's a serial killer! 
At the top of the Shotgun Kiss, where the prisoners don’t see the light of day, a painting hangs on the wall. Trapped within its colors is the spirit of a horrified girl. A group of idiots wants to set her free. This is where you are.
With the former cultist (and active prisoner) Hubbard’s power to see spiritual potential, you were able to track down Agent Spooky in her spirit form, leading you to the Solitary Confinement part of the prison. Into an old dungeon cell to be more specific. Here, a prisoner is chained to the wall, poor guy is wearing a heavy iron mask, and is in a rough shape — but he’s far from the only suffering soul within these walls. Odetta’s cousin, Jaylene, is trapped within the painting by some type of curse. You have little to no clue why there’s a painting inside this cell, but it’s not the time to ask questions! There are more issues to be concerned with… Mr. Explosion-Earthquake man, aka, the other intruder is here! The person causing havoc through the prison who has nothing to do with the havoc that you and your friends have been causing! Your morally superior chaos!
Hubbard wants you to run away with the painting. Agent Spooky thinks you should handle this directly with the intruder, violently or not. And the prisoner… the prisoner weeps because you’re ignoring him. You’ll keep doing that. But what else?! Your options are limited!
From what you hear, the old guard is not in the best track to stop the interference. Very diplomatic old man, not very effective! Gotta think fast!
What’s the plan now?!
>You think diplomacy is failing because you’re not in charge. Talk to the Intruder, negotiate. You’re both intruders, you’re bound to have something in common.
>Break the wall, and jump out of here with the painting in hand. Climb to the nearest window, the closest to the locker room where Aurora is waiting.
>Even if you are unsure that the intruder is coming into this cell, prepare for a sneak attack in case it happens.
>Write In. 
