/qst/ - Quests

in a meaningless world, a girl finds heaven in scarlet mist

Welcome to /qtg/, a place to talk about quests.
Previous thread
>>6271040

>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/xGZAX9tAvx
>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:
If you allow write-ins, what are the best and worst you've ever gotten that received votes? How often do you get write-ins better than your actual options? If you don't allow write-ins, why not? Would you ever consider it?

>Player Question:
How much do you take in-quest discussion into your vote? Do you just show up and vote? What would get you to engage with quests more if you don't already?

>General Question:
How would you get more voters to engage with quests other than just voting? Have you ever done an in-quest event for your players? If so, what?

>Lurker Question:
There is no question, vote.

>Miscellaneous Question:
Any big plans for the last part of the year? Get anything big done over the summer?

Thread #2: http://thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6259613/

>Fed job takes you to a fairy tale.
>There is a robot in the fairy tale.
>Get cursed with a ghost.
>Met some of your co-workers.
>Broke ghost curse, sort of.
>Fed job takes you to fairy lands to find a missing person.
>Now, it's time to split up, team!

Threads 1, 2, 3, 4: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Halo:%20Spartan%202%20War%20Reports
Active Spartan Roster: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/12PTTzwcNVbQbIC101lrcrQQZKWhK3myTLWEQ0A1ybj8/edit?gid=0#gid=0
_
Sven-033's Qualities: [Special] Giant, [Special] Spartan-II, Maverick, Officer [Lieutenant], Wunderkind, Inspiring.
Sven-033's Advancement Paths: Brawler: Open Hand: 5/10 Bulwark: Unbreakable: 5/10 Grenadier: 4/10| Diplomat 1/6 Infiltrator 1/6 Scrounger 2/6 Tactician 1/6| Jotun 1/4
Sub objective Progress: Artificial Artisan 3/?| Blade Breaker 1/?
_
Current Mission: Mission 4: Operation: FALLEN- VALKYRIE

Mission Wide Optional Sub Objective : Accomplish primary objective without causing Alarm or alerting the locals/ rebel elements to the Spartan presence on black sands

Secret mission wide objective: Prevent the Einherjar on Black Sands from warning the others


Violet Team (Sven-033, Shika-108, Nesta-097, Illya-077)
Primary: Capture or Terminate VIP, Ingrid Askeland, Einherjar Political asset Codenamed Herfjötur, and retrieve her remains if she is neutralized

Optional Sub Objective 1: Capture additional Einherjar non combatants alive or dead

Secret objective 1: [FILE ENCRYPTED]

Secret objective 2: Capture or destroy the first and last shipment of "Bad Medicine"
_
Indigo Team (James-005, Daisy-023, Cal-141, Anton-044)

Primary: Neutralize the Elite Einherjar Unit, the Rødt skjegg, either through complete decimation or extreme loss of irreplaceable veteran fighters

Optional Sub Objective 1: Capture "Erik The Red" Alive

Secret Objective: Prevent a false flag attack planned by the Red Beards, intended to cause further public distress and lower trust in the trustworthiness of the UNSC's peace making efforts
_
Lilac Team (Naomi-010, Jorge-052, Solomon-069, Malcom-059)
Primary: Ensure the safety of non einherjar aligned insurrectionist leaders/ groups

Optional Sub Objective 1: Keep all the VIPs alive to Mission end

Optional Sub Objective 2: Keep more than 50% of non essential members of the delegation alive to mission end

Secret objective 1: [FILE ENCRYPTED
Secret objective 2: [FILE ENCRYPTED
_

"Illya, lets talk shop" You say, keeping alert and scanning the Landing Zone's perimeter

"About what, Sir?" She asks immediately, pausing her own watch to glance your direction to acknowledge your request. Which was important, as you hadn't ordered her to give her two cents

"The Covenant Elite Soldier Caste" You tell her and she nods, understanding that you want to have a tactical discussion

"We call them Svartalfar" Shika chimes in "Sven came up with it"

"So that's why the operation was called that" Illya ponders outload "Kurt and the rest of us took to calling them Alligators, Svartalfar is a bit of a mouthful"

"So is Alligator, in all fairness" Nesta butts in, running her hands through her red hair and shaking it as she enjoys the sun and the breeze washing up from the shore.
Cont

You are Marnie, an unwilling resident of City 87-O. After years of putting up with a stifling existence, you've finally managed to carve out a potential path to freedom. Thanks to the actions of you, your Digimon, and your allies, a way out of this digital ark is finally coming into sight.

After training hard, carrying out arduous missions, and defeating several powerful foes, your partner, Phascomon, has unlocked his Ultimate-stage Digivolution: Astamon. Only a few steps remain before you can ascend The Tower, enter the portal at its pinnacle, and make your way into the real world, where you can finally see the sights that have eluded you all your life.

Since your last excursion into the depths of a data center, you’ve been taking it easy at home, watching the news near-constantly while waiting for bots to bust down your door. Fortunately, no such thing seems to be incoming. The raid on the scanning facility has gone unreported, thanks to the lack of public-facing damage, and the city-sanctioned media has no reason to broadcast their own attempt to take you and your allies down.

==

Thread 1:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6216903/

Thread 2:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6254189

Since the arrival of the Eilistraeans, the entire Tenpenny estate has been refurbished, many of its rooms converted to dormitories and facilities all funded by Emitia. The girl spared no expense in providing for your people, ensuring that the building is staffed and adequately supplied, insisting that Sune will provide for them until the children are grown enough to provide for themselves. While you've not acquired the artisanal techniques of your people, there are many skills that you can impart besides fighting - the survival techniques from your ranger training and affinity for dance chief among them.

But you've a more immediate concern that demands your attention - impressing upon these children the culture of the Ilythiiri that was lost with their elders. They speak the local surfacer language, are ignorant to their illustrious history, and have no understanding of who they truly are, something that you have been working diligently to remedy as of late.

The old gallery, once filled with Tenpenny's vulgar paintings, has been completely redone into a library filled with fiction and realmslore. Rows upon rows of dark wood shelves sitting on white tile, surrounding a common area, the chairs arranged in a semicircle around yourself. In attendance are the children, who sit in anticipation of your lecture, their benefactor Emitia Rouzet, High Sorcerer Lael Lathalas, and his apprentices.

What, you wonder, will be the topic of today's lesson?
>Today I will tell them the storied history of Menzoberra the Kinless, one of Lolth's most powerful priestesses and the founder of the city Menzoberranzan itself.
>It is time for a lesson on Ilythiirra. They are learning the basics of our language well enough, but it is important to review regularly..
>I will tell them more of our homeland, the Underdark, Of its many cities and peoples that inhabit it.
>[Write-in.]

> While every world travels slowly towards its end, yours has just begun its journey.
> For this world, the cycle of Gods and Men spins anew, on freshly birthed lands awash with life.
> You are a being of creation, a God, among the first divinities born not long after a world’s genesis. You possess innate knowledge and immense power, with which you may seize dominance and carve out a place for yourself in these savage, untamed wilds.

Welcome to a spinoff installation of Beings of Creation, a long-running tactical civ-style hexcrawl based on your imagination. You are a non-omniscient divine being of great power. You find yourself spontaneously brought into existence in a prehistoric, primeval world, untouched by Gods.
The rules are relatively simple, and may be picked up as you go, but the document below goes into detail. Most players are familiar veterans of the game, so don't be shy and feel free to ask questions.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eOyLUfkbgVFHjIPmNmcW9G2wQE7CZenv69m9yQF_aMY
https://discord.gg/yd3KbdCZ

With a few gods already out of the running, feel free to post a god sheet in the thread if you’re interested in joining in.

>Turn 11 begins!

Grand Zen-Oh, the omni king and ruler of the omniverse has declared there will be a massive tournament to be held in his honor. A grand affair between several universes, each battling it out for the very right to exist. And at the forefront of this grand spectacle will be the Saiyans of Universe 7, who Grand Zen-Oh has grown fond of watching battle. Twenty eight years ago, the Saiyan race were annexed into the PTO as just another race, one of many sent to conquer other worlds. Now, the Saiyans are widely regarded as the strongest warrior race in the entire Seventh Universe, defenders of the PTO led by their strongest, the “Dragon of New Salda” General Karn and his family.

You the players will (most often) control Karn. A man who has grown from his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733 to become not only the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759, but also personal friend to the former emperor Lord Freeza, father to well over a dozen powerful and unique children, a mentor and teacher to his fellow Saiyans, and the best hope for his universe's continued survival. No one warrior can hope to battle eight other universes' strongest fighters alone and hope to prevail, one man's power and skill won't be enough to overcome the looming threat of extermination. But this coming battle will be the ultimate test of how you've lived your life until now, the choices you made not only for yourself, but for the fate of your entire universe.


Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM

Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of three correctly-rolled dice
>At ten minutes past your previous roll, and there are not yet enough rolls, you may roll an additional roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100
>99s or paired rolls may net you extra bonuses
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun

SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can also find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j61ts42E2Ms


UNIVERSAL SURVIVAL

It was late in the afternoon, as staff were starting to wrap up testing, check-ups and other activities in the deeper parts of the facility. However, whilst most subjects were being brought back to their containment, this was not the case for Kaenum. In fact, she was currently following Catherine to a place she hadn't visited before. "So, who are you bringing me to?" Kaenum asked calmly, looking around and noticing that there were a few guardsmen around, which made her both curious and concerned. "Her name is Edith Astor. Codename, PW-87. I designed her with Roraima. However, after she refused to do what Roraima demanded of her, he... punished her." Catherine said in a regretful tone, Kaenum giving an understanding nod. "I fortunately managed to take full control of her, ensuring Roraima doesn't hurt her further. Unfortunately, she has been rather scarred by the experience. Which is why I was hoping that you could help her out. Perhaps give her some therapy to help her cope with things."

Whilst Kaenum was saddened that a subject had to suffer so much under Roraima, she was optimistic that she could help out here. After all, she had trained quite a bit when it came to therapy, and knew that she could help anyone out with enough time. "Of course, Catherine. I'd gladly help out." Kaenum responded, Catherine smiling with relief, as the two headed towards the secluded and relatively well-guarded chamber. Until finally, the two would reach the large set of doors leading to the chamber. "Will you be joining me?" Kaenum asked to Catherine, who paused before reluctantly shaking her head. "I want this to be between you and her. I've talked with her a bit, but... I could not get her to talk much. She needs someone else. Another subject..." Kaenum nodded again, taking a deep breath before looking ahead. "Very well then." With that, Catherine would give a nod to the nearby guardsmen, before taking a step back.

Kaenum stepped through the door after it opened, entering the small space which separated the outside world from the containment chamber. Though once the second set of doors opened, Kaenum was met with a rather neat and homely looking room. Clearly, Catherine had tried o decorate the room in such a way that it helped Edith feel more at home. Though, given how things looked eerily untouched, it had not been too effective. Not to mention, the fact that Edith wasn't really doing anything in the room. Kaenum spotted her in the corner, sitting on the floor and facing the wall. "Go away..." Edith mumbled in a worn-down voice, Kaenum remaining calm and quietly entering the room. Kaenum looked over the subject, quickly noticing all the combat features Roraima had clearly given her. Those large and long wings, those clawed hands and her stature all were traits meant to appear intimidating. And yet, Edith appeared more sombre than scary. "Edith, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Kaenum. I am here to talk to you."

Pick Race

>Orc

>Goblin

>Troll

>Bugbear

>Cyclopes

Pick Location

>Mountains

>Plains

>Forest

>Coast

Sing, goddess, of thirsty Argos, and of the glory of Hippomedon Aristomachides - sing of the folly of Adrastus, of the savagery of Tydeus and of Oedipal transgressions! Sing, O Muse, of Zeus’ designs, which even now come to fulfillment…

Another set of tyrns passes and begins again, bringing with it a new set of challenges. The threat of lunar invasion has passed, and with it a new era of peace begins. Of course such things rarely last. Already the nations of the world dabble in tremendous powers that could alter the world. Stolen lunar technologies, tremendous machines worked powered by magic, the holy light of gods and puppets stitched together from broken spirits. The world lurches toward great change, ready or not.

---

This a Multiplayer Nation Roleplay! Unfortunately we are full up on players at the moment with no openings expected. Apologies to anyone who wanted to join!

> Global
Across the land all breathe a sigh of relief as the great silver fortresses of the Lunites march into the ocean, never to be seen again. Even those few who can follow them find no trace a tyrn later.

> Turbans
Glorious victory at last! Though the battle rages day and night Turban ingenuity has won the day, developing horrific poisons that leave the invaders trembling and flailing while strikes against key locations of their silver fortress has sent it into retreat toward the ocean! Despite the usage of terrible weapons of magical fog the invaders have been driven back! At the height of the battle a great charge of biotitans slam into the fortress and hurl it into the sea! Glory to the Turquoise Turbans! Nothing remains of the invaders save their memory.

> Vencia
The great cataloging of Taxmoss is an exciting time for the explorers of Vencia as they cross the foreign jungles on the far side of the Tarn. It is of course also a somewhat terrifying time of course, because such activities inevitably lead into the territories of the Red Wall, a fearsome skrit war thing that is decidedly less friendly than the usual Skrit, it seems quite determined to devour everything in reach in fact.
A nutty new gourd is discovered in the jungles, one that curiously grows more like an onion than a normal squash, with most of the plant firmly underground. Getting them pulled free is quite the hassle, fortunately normal Skrit drones are usually handy to help dig them out. When the ants get into the leftover squash left as payment they change color to a curious metallic brown, at least when not near a venk. Is this some sort of magical thing?

“Honestly, I could name a thousand reasons: I don’t like Prometheus, and I don’t trust him to mold me like a piece of clay. I’m not you, and I don’t want to be— hell, I don’t think I’d even deserve to be.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“There’s only one person in the world I’d want to trust my soul with,” you interrupt, “And it isn’t your dead boyfriend. I have things I worked hard for that I want to keep, people who I really want to stay dead, and I owe a debt of gratitude to the Architect for giving me this opportunity in the first place. I like power, I like having more than other people, but, more than anything…

I want to be free, and I want to be myself. If that means I don’t get to be happy, then, fuck it, who even needs to be? I have a more powerful impetus.”

You spread your arms wide, the fake soul of the fake you conjured by the Grand Art creaking and chipping beneath the pressure exerted by your real might, crimson light pouring through the breaks like water from the cracks in a porcelain vase. Arms painfully burst from your back, skin tearing and blood pouring out from the ruins of your tattered sweater. The limbs flex their freshly minted muscle, caressing the soft, tender pink skin, newborn, almost infantile despite their long, sinister build, You topple forward for a moment the weight cracking your spine under its crushing weight until your body reorganizes itself, reinforcing and regenerating shattered bone and torn sinew with metal and divinity, your skeleton shivering and popping as your new anatomy settles into place.

“...I see. Well, it was a free choice, a true choice, so a number of possibilities exist. I guess this just happens to be one where things turned out wrong.”

“You’re too vertical, both of you,” you sneer, “Your world is dead. The man who killed himself was someone you never knew, and he died for someone he never met. As far as I’m concerned, all of those “what if”s are only as real as any other predictive model. A glorified simulation, really. Well, if it’s any consolation, I believe your wish to have been granted before you ever made it: you have never been me, and you never will be.”

The other you remains silent, but you press on, the constructed world tearing away as your Impetus overrides the Grand Art, its caster no longer present to protect it from your will. Your body lifts into the air, scarlet fetters burst from your fingertips, slowly taking the qualities of the Sunset, first hard to notice, vermillion and magenta, then, less subtle, gold, lilac, blue, white, black. The chains bind to the fabric of the incomplete reality itself, each wild movement of your arms tearing out another piece.

“The Southlands.” That’s what the races of the Northwest call them, as if they were one place—a realm unified under a single nation or people. In truth, the Southlands are a molten mosaic of humans, beastmen, and sundry others flowing over and through each other in coexistence and in conflict. The land itself is a tapestry of desert and jungle, of low savannah and high plateau, where even the Race of Man is far from uniform: the hides of the humans here range from a ruddy tan to a deep blue-black that nearly equals the Drow of Wevenore.

Not that you got to see much of it.

You are James Efron, Senior Initiate of the Hawksong Mages’ Tower. At your age—twenty-three—you really ought to be a Mage Apprentice. You should be studying in some stuffy laboratory back home in the big city like Izirina Henzler, or maybe taking a practicum under some smaller adjunct Associate Tower like your old pal Testa. But nooo, you craved a life of action, of adventure! ‘ is meant for the field!’ you used to boast of your favourite spell. So you’d taken the field, first as a formal Field Researcher and then later as a freelance adventurer-for-hire.

And that had led you here. To the Southlands. To this dungeon.

It isn’t the cool kind of dungeon, full of monsters to kite and for coin, alas. It’s the kind where Southrons store their prisoners-of-war, for that seems to be the size of your sad situation: a prisoner, at the beginnings of what is shaping up to be a full-scale intercivilizational conflict.

The Men of the South may be myriad, but tensions between their ilk and the fairer folk of the Northwest—your homeland, Hawksong’s aegis—have been a unifying cause as of late, and not only for the human races. Relations have been fraying since before you were born, when a sinister cabal of dark-skinned demon-worshippers staged a terrorist attack on the Mages’ Tower itself, assassinating the Archmage and destroying the much-beloved Eternal Fountain.

Howdy everyone this quest is inspired by Tower Dungeon, Dark Souls and gritty fantasy. With a rather flexible take on the Basic roleplaying Universal Game Engine is the basis for characters, skills and combat.

_

One Hundred years have passed since the last Vexana Cosmesis influxia - The alignment of stars necessary for the correct partitions of the many seen and unseen angles of reality, allowing the beyond to grasp the physical once more.

Since that moment every hour, minute and second has been counted as Kingdoms heed the awaited dirge. For the First City has returned to the world for just ten years until it is swallowed back by the accursed void, bringing with it relics of the past and horrors of a prophesied future. Dancing along the manic death spiral of time with little reason.

Within the fabled Bed of Incongruity promises immense power and eternal life for all that sunder their way to the hidden cavity. Countless named and forgotten treasures of equal might and greater also await those mad enough to brave the damned metropolis.

The First City lies within once blessed lands, yet the centuries of isolation and exposure to distant dimensions has taken its toll, scattering the returning landscape with foreign contaminants, alien threats and unnatural constructs.

The City's interior itself is a celestial hovel of unnatural geometry as reality bleeds away at the very point where the veil between the many planes awaits, existence is only a second thought here. Many such explorers claim to have witnessed their compatriots simply uncoiling from reality and ascending to the heavens without warning.

The stars have aligned and the way is known, through the hazy miasma the Insane, Brave and Desperate rush like a tide of crashing waves against its walls.

See someone on discord by ncr, tell them pickles is trying to message them, I'm getting tired of retyping this due to something

It is nearing a year since you, The Courier, fought and secured independence of the Mojave from domestic and foreign powers. Mr. House was put on ice, the NCR got sent packing and even the mighty Legion tucked tail and fled back East.

Now, the New Vegas Directorate, your new government, faces as many challenges as it does opportunities. Industry is rapidly expanding and agriculture is now firmly established while migrants from around the wasteland flood in looking to change their fortunes.

But the Boomer Blight, an engineered plague from parts unknown, is spreading throughout the Wasteland and little looks uncontainable. You continue to walk the line in courting both the NCR and the Legion, seeking to be a stable power between the two warring giants.

A new player comes into the picture and he brings with him hundreds of Enclave descendants eager to start again. You have agreed to welcome them into the NVD but time will tell if you can hide their influence from the NCR while keeping other factions happy.

With the looming NCR election, the hostile President Kimball seems poised to lose to the unknown Allgood Murphy while Caesar continues to see you as his Augustus, urging greater cooperation between both nations.

The one-year anniversary is rapidly approaching and while a grand celebration is planned, existential threats lurk everywhere and with Mr. House on the loose, you can be sure you’ll see him one last time.

This is the end of the world. It's also the birth of a new one, or an old one, depending on who you ask. Maybe it's more like an overdue arranged marriage.

You might not have been fully aware, but the world used to cast a Shadow: a separate realm of spirits, kept away by a barrier that only a certain few were ever meant to cross. Spirits are capricious, rarely logical, and often dangerous beings composed of the essence and energy of all things real; scuttling reflections with their own arcane hierarchies and motivations.

But every wall has its rats, and the barrier between your world and the spirit world was no exception. The Beshilu are a nasty manner of demon - derived from and connected to the spirit world, but fettered to the world of flesh, and gifted with many terrible abilities. They massacre and they multiply, and their only desire has ever been to tear down that wall between worlds... to gnaw at its foundations in greater and greater numbers, until the wolves could no longer keep them at bay.

They succeeded.

Too many tears. Too many crumbling wounds between worlds. The gauntlet was sundered, and when that wall crumbled away, the world of mortals and the world of spirits were merged into one. In those first terrible moments, everyone on Earth could hear a trillion shrill voices screeching out in triumph, and swarms of rats swelled across streets and forests in writhing tides.

The fabric of reality is now like a sieve, the threads wavering apart and stretching in new directions; space and time operate differently. The sun no longer rises, or sets, and light instead seems to meander from one place to the next according to whim. Places seem to stir and shift, reacting to their occupants in sometimes unpredictable fashion. The rules have changed, and will likely change more, but things will never go back to the way they were.

That was three days ago, and it would be a stretch to say the dust has settled, but you are adjusting to the chaos. You're a survivor, and while you may not fully grasp what's going on, you're not unfamiliar with the supernatural. You are determined to knuckle down and make your way in this fucked up new world....

>Cont'd

The loss of one's memory is a terrible thing. You're not in the strictest sense dead, but you may as well be for anything and everything you could call yourself is gone. And, you are left like a needle on a record player listlessly following a groove with no music. Yet, still the record turns and so does your meaningless experience continue second by second.

You're alone in a padded cell. You're bound in a straight jacket. A gag fills your mouth and is locked behind your head. It takes a great deal of effort to even stand because you're arms aren't free. You can think, feel, and express yourself clearly. Define the things you experience as if you've always known them. But, you have no memory of who you are, how you got here, or even where you're at. All you know is that you're restrained.

Something shuffles outside your cell's door. It sounds like somebody walking and brushing against the wall at the same time. A strange clicking noise accompanies the odd stride, like teeth chattering in the cold.

>Try to call out to them and get their attention

>Hold your breath, remain silent, and stay perfectly still

Your name is BrightReef Grover and you are finally a Science Scout!

Among the youth of Swallia; public service is considered a great mark on a resume for a future career, and a great use of a young person's time. Before being mated or mature enough to engage in the workforce; it is a method to expend youthful energy towards something useful. But you wouldn't know much about that; you're more interested in the merit badges, the sash, and the cool stuff you get to do.

The Scouts are a direct subsidy of InterCon; the governing body of your independent planet. Swallia and its two moons are in an autonomous zone and are free from the predations and exploitations of other powers in space. This is guaranteed by your protector-in-all-but-name state; the Jaxtian led Hegemony. But once again, you don't really know much about that. You're just a kid, you're much more excited about summer vacation on the last day of school. You even get to meet the representative from the Eugenic & Science policy department of the Swall government. Cool!

Monday
Grid Sector 11873, Defensive Position "Razorback"

The Bradley 1A5 kept firing with it's auto-cannon at the incoming target. One of it's tracks, the left one, was damaged. The rack of guided missiles had been emptied days ago and there hadn't been the chance to refill them.

Quartermaster "Godmother" was inside the basement of a ruined house, missing it's second floor and portions of the first. The structure of plywood would provide minimal protection or cover, which was why he was underground.

Beside him was Jack Price, the Engineer from MARS Incorporated, now a Lieutenant in what remained of the Armed Forces.

Finally, if he was still alive, was Capt. Harry Grand from the Air Force.
-
-
In the basement was a Javelin guided missile, loaded, but with no available reloads. There was also MARS MPAR, a laser guided upgrade of the FGM-172A SRAW project. That system and a single reload were bundled together. Both would require firing from outside or the precarious top floor.

The other explosive options were the drum fed, six shot 40mm Milkor MGL.... OR three disposable AT-4ERs.

There was closed crates that may or may not have additional supplies, but the three of them didn't know how to operate that many weapons outside the rocket launchers and a basic M16A4.

There was the blowtorch and Quik Patch case, if Jack wanted to try repairing the Bradley.

A world where might makes right. A world of Jade and Gold, of Phoenix and Dragons, of Pills and Talismans, of Martial and Spiritual arts.
A world where diligent training yield strength, meaning freedom. A world where loneliness means death, meaning social chains.
A world still unfair, as the ones reaching the heavens are most likely born rich - be it political riches of the aristocrats, power of secret knowledges and hidden realms of clans, or lucky enough to be born one-in-a-thousand genius.

This was not the case of Quiet Word - that is, (You).
Your current skill level is on par with other genius of your age. But where they were graced with secret techniques and special care, you just had lucky encounters leveraged to the best and a knack for navigating social situations.

You own a trove of techniques and treasures for such a young cultivator - more than you can study efficiently, but your strength lies in the impressive amount of Bonded Spiritual Beasts - A Phoenix spirit, a Horse spirit, a Snake spirit and a Wolf spirit.
Speaking of that last one, you didn't told a world about him to anybody. As a scion of the Primordial Wolf spirit, its father warned you of its worth and how people could want to rip it away from you. Especially in such a ruthless and public environment than, say, a townwide cultivator tournament.
Previously mentionned worth comes from its ability to Fuse without restriction - fusion being a secret of the higher ranking of your sect, secret you have almost completely rediscovered on your own, and freely shared with your sect-siblings (but not your masters). Alright, the Primordial Wolf might have helped you on that "figuring it out by yourself" point.

Recently, you chased some precious treasures in the Stormwood rare event, and delayed a breakthrough for helping your little sect-siblings.
Right now, You are in a succesfull seclusion.

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.

The competition for Princess Yulia’s hand has finally begun! Its first stage saw you and your rivals forced to fight through a horde of violent prisoners in order to reach the fabled Tower of Illusion. Teaming up with two of your foreign counterparts, you cleared the goal and were able to advance to the second stage, where a written exam on kingly matters awaited you. You were forced to put your axe aside and rely on your intellect and knowledge to tackle this trial.

With the second stage completed, you now await your grading, and the impending third stage, which promises to be your most rigorous challenge yet.

>Tristain d’Rusalka
>Level 38 Wyvern Lord (EXP: 0/100)
HP: 72/72 (130%)
Strength: 38 (75%)
Magic: 32 (50%)
Speed: 28 (40%)
Defense: 31 (70%)
Resistance: 25 (50%)
Luck: 28 (65%)

>Skill: Resolve (When HP falls to less than 35%, Strength, Speed and Defense increase by 7)
>Dragon-kin Wyvern (SPD based chance for Fionn to launch an ice attack, dealing ½ MAG Damage.)

>Weapons: Silver Axe (+16 ATK), Bolt Axe (+14 ATK, Ranged, Targets RES) Hammer (+8 ATK, 3x DMG vs Armor Knights), Devil Axe (+21 ATK, -20 HP when Used) Iron Bow (+6 ATK),

>Spells:
Fire (+3 ATK, 5 Uses)
Elfire (+7 ATK, 3 Uses)
Wind (+3 ATK, 5 Uses, 3x DMG vs Flying, 5 Uses)
Sacred Fire: (+12 ATK, 3x dmg vs. Terrors. 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 damage of a magic spell. (3 Charges)
Combat Art: Earthsplitter: Cleave all enemies standing two rows in front of you. (Cost: 1 Crest of Indech Charge)
Combat Art: Throw: (Toss your weapon at an enemy and return it to your hand. Ranged attack.) (1 Crest of Indech Charge)
Combat Art: Hit and Run: (Perform an attack that allows you to dodge the next harmful attack. Increases SPD by +7 for 1 turn. Costs 2 Crest of Indech Charges)

>Items: Concoction x5 (+20 HP), Light Rune x2

>Gold: 1800

>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

To most, the idea of being reincarnated into another world was a mere fantasy.

But to you...

It was reality.

Your name is John Doe, and a few months ago you got hit by a truck. After your death you met Herta, the beautiful (and perverted) Goddess of Artifice. She told you that you needed to pick a cheat skill before she could send you to one of the many generic isekai worlds available.

"Because that's heavenly policy!" She'd said.

But instead of picking between those boring options, you took the Goddess Herself and brought her with you to a world of her own creation.

This universe of hers was slapped together with 'tags' and generic fantasy themes. Some might scoff at the abundance of stale tropes and cliched genres, but things were just the way you liked them.

Well, you were still getting used to the unfamiliar logic and morality of this brave new world. Beyond being mere ideas that were held by people, these conceits extended deep into cultural thought, sculpting history and even shaping the laws of physics.

But that wasn't all this universe had in store: Soldiers, airships, mechs, clockwork robots, walking artillery units, all of these and more marched from their homeland's borders to fight in a neverending skirmish against their enemies.

Yet these modern conflicts were petty when compared to the Demon Lord's invasion. So great was that war, that the scars from that era lingered like a thorn on the side. Corruption magic threatened to destroy everything if not purged whenever it was found, despite it being many millennia since the demons were vanquished. This evil magic will grow and fester if no precautions were taken. Thankfully there were many organizations in the world that dealt with these sorts of things.

Today, gold poured from the coffers of nations as everyone clamored to get a slice of the goods and weapons available. In spite of the constant wars and battles, commerce flowed through the planet, giving and taking away fortunes in an instant.

These realities gave testament to some of this universe's priorities - war, trade, and steampunk tech.

And that didn't even mention what is blatantly the most important of this universe's conceits: Slavery. It was a fact of life. Everyone you'd met in this world approved of it and spoke about it like it was the most common thing in the world. Which, in this world's context, made perfect sense.

As Freeborn Men are people, thus women and the lower classes are considered property. Although one could argue that slavery in this world was not the same type of chattel slavery that might pop into your mind whenever someone in your old world mentioned the word 'slave'. Providing evidence to support that theory, the Bondage Accords, which are a sort of international agreement most nations adhered to, granted certain protections to the enslaved despite their legal status as objects.

Quest Resources (stats, party, location, neofauna information, date, time, etc.): https://rentry.org/PokepocalypseQST

Quest Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Pok%C3%A9pocalypse%20Revival (Start here if you want to catch up on the quest's previous threads!)

Updates will be attempted every 2 days! Ideally, I will be back to daily updates by the end of this thread. Absences will be announced in advance and given definitive end dates if I can manage it.

<><><><><>

Within the Year of Our Lord, 1884, upon a world quite similar to our own, all civilization is at war with a peculiar breed of creature...

...all civilization, that is, save for Walter Buchanan and his companions. Walter, an aspiring naturalist, sees the good in these creatures: these demons of earth and sky, able to command the very heavens themselves, privy to the inner thoughts of man and the very souls that animate them. He has tamed four such creatures, all of whom walk by his side: Aster, his flaming foal; Mary, his electric sheep; Taylor, his silk-spinning caterpillar compatriot; Florian, his aromatic flower sprite.

These creatures, whom he dubs "neofauna," are not his only company. Walter is further joined by two human travelers: Thomas J. Steele, a businessman and state representative of Indiana, and "Andrew," a former buffalo hunter now employed as Steele's own bodyguard. All three of these men share a common cause: a desire to return to the East Coast.

This trio is further bound together not only by shared experience, but by their shared allegiance to the Staters: a movement led by a group of rebellious Californians looking to upend the most recent state governor, C. P. Huntington, for his atrocities against the state of California. The treacherous governor has used the state militia to launch a coordinated raid on the Staters' former headquarters, and suspicions abound that he is now responsible for multiple deaths within the movement-- deaths which the Stater's stalwart leader, Aaron Muyr, now seeks to avenge...

<><><><><>

You are Charlotte Fawkins, Herald and heroine. With the power of your positive spirit, you have overcome deceit, defeat, and divine possession, and now you are going to save the world. First, though, you need to defeat your nemesis Jean Ramsey in single combat.

Your fall through Ramsey's cloak is short, and your landing is soft (though you're displeased to discover the tail interferes with any cool forward roll). You are in blackness. You're not certain what you anticipated.

When you stand, you spy the Crown first, then the mask, then the snake, then, and only then, do you make out the rest of Ramsey: she's 20 feet away, her cloak camouflaging her near-perfectly. You suppose this is her head, or pocket dimension, or... wherever. Ramsey's axe, taller than her body, glossy black, is camouflaged too, only visible by its glint: the Crown is shedding faint white light.

You draw The Sword— its flames do nothing to illuminate the space, but it seems like the appropriate thing to do. Ramsey cocks her head. "Boy, you sure are a pain in the ass, aren't you?"

The snake, glossy beige, loops down around her shoulders. =Like father, like daughter. Isn't that right, Wingnut.=

God-damnit! How much have you been spied on? You clench The Sword, refusing to rise to the bait, but it wasn't set out for you— Richard shimmers into existence by your side. His hand is on your shoulder. "She is my client. Do not drag her—"

"Hey, who the fuck is that?" Ramsey says.

=Wow. What the hell is that. I'd be laughing if I wasn't in-chassis, so use your imagination. Or don't. Here: ha ha ha ha ha.=
=This is what you have been reduced to. Human. And an inferior physical specimen at that. I don't know what I expected. Ha ha ha ha.=
=This is how your -daughter- thinks of you. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.=

"I dunno, Snickers. They don't really look anything alike?" You get the impression that Ramsey is squinting. "Is that actually your snake? Shit! I didn't know they turned into people!"

=The competent ones don't. Isn't that right, Wingnut.=

"I am perfectly satisfied with my current state of affairs, Snickers. It has posed no obstacle to my success with my client."

=You mean it's posed no obstacle to -my- success with -my- client. Thanks for the Crown, by the way. Couldn't have ushered in the Dawn without—=

"Oh, yeah! The Crown! Wow! Talk on your own time, Snickers, thanks bunches." Ramsey pushes the snout of her snake upwards. "Charlotte Fawkins."

You've been trying to think of cool things to say. "Yes, evildoer?"

"Ohoho! Evildoer! Nice one. You stole Wayne's crystal, didn't you?"

You did, and thank God for it. It's under the armor, against your chest, hidden by your Magyckal Aura. "No."

(1/2)

Welcome back.

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.

Once per thread, if three or more people invoke it, a single roll may be re-rolled.

Inventory, pokemon stats and other links: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15i2N08IpWqitoTJujsUMishe4PLbao1lqT-bCAmvPcE/edit

Discord: https://discord.gg/pR7q5Evf

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.

For the time being, Fie returned to her gym for the time being.

Last thread, you beat Daniel, the Greenshoot Gym Leader, evolved Coolie into a Hydrapple, trained a whole lot, prepared to head out in the morning, had some friendly battles with Sarah and Tom which you lost and groomed your team...

>It is January 23rd of the Year 71 of the Cosmic Era

>Thread Archive:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Errant+comet

>Tip Jars: If you enjoy the writing, consider sparing some dimes if you're able.
>patreon.com/Maxwelllallwell
>ko-fi.com/maxwelllallwell

Frieden Moon, Greencoat Pilot of the Zodiac Alliance of Freedom Treaty (ZAFT) militia enters into potentially the most impactful revolution of the Bloody Valentines War... And so it would be that the War, having entered a standstill. Begins the tentative turn of the page over its outcome

Last time, the Johnny convention came to a close, including the after party. Everyone had a great time, mainly you! Free from the love of your fans, you’re on a quest to make it up with Bagna, who desires cake and nothing more. You guess, anyway, anything to make up for keeping her imprisoned in cloth.

To bake the one above all, you sought the ingredients at the nearest convenience store! But you found more than you bargained for, and had a violent encounter with some low tier thugs. Nothing happened to you, but to them? It wasn’t pretty. Mama Bodil dealt with the fallout.

Now you’re at the steps of the Prison Party House! You figured this is a good place to bake the dessert, and Lydie wanted to know about Beth. So here you are!

But to your surprise, something is afoot, after the former prisoner and actual Pirate Sally opened the door — you noticed a heatwave coming from within the house. It’s summer, but Global Warming doesn’t happen in the entirety of a room.

The scarcely dressed sailor takes a moment to come to her senses after breathing some fresh air. She welcomes you!

“Ahoy!!!” The melting pirate opens her arms in exuberant excitement! “Welcome, welcome...!” She’s still melting!

“Woah! With these attributes, I know why you wanted me to meet Beth in person, my dear trophy! You surround yourself with quality people!” Lydie looks at the bounty of this pirate. “I’m one of Johnny’s greatest admirers, Lydie! Nice to meet you! ”

“Huh? Beth? I’m not Beth.” Sally snaps out of her joyous state. “I’m Sally! Nice to meet you though! And, um, I like to admire him too.” Sally returns to her happy ways with an added hint of confusion. She wonders what being an admirer means in this context. “I’m sure you’re here for more than just Beth, right? Come in!”

“Yes! But also, above all, what’s going on in there? Something’s up?” You notice that the couch inside is warping thanks to the heat.

“Oh, the thermostat broke! It’s only spitting fire! It’s terrible! We tried to fix it, but only made it worse!” Sally scratches her head in frustration.

“Oooh! That explains why you’re light on clothes!” Lydie really likes putting emphasis on other people’s bodies.

“Huh? Y-Yeah! It’s ‘cause of the heat” Sally chuckles. “You like it?”

“I think you look great!” You nod. “I’m planning on baking a cake, do you mind if I use your kitchen?”

“Feel free! My treasure is your treasure!” Sally smiles.

You got the place and the ingredients. What you only lack is help! You don’t want to get all exhausted baking this cake all alone again…

What do you do?

>Keep your priorities. Bake the cake first. Find a tag team partner! Kushi is still in here, isn’t she? Find her!
>Keep your priorities. Bake the cake first. Find a tag team partner! Kata is the one and only for this recipe, isn’t she? Call her!
>Help fix the thermostat. Somehow. Can you do any better?
>Ask Sally what she’s been up to. You can tell she’s been busy!
>Write In.

Hi! This is my gay larp story. Please don't laugh at me. It's not quite as fantastical as everything else here but I hope you enjoy it. Decisions will either be from a presented set that can be overridden by popular will at my discretion, or by simple suggestion. Will use d100, applying "Degrees of success" rules that may be familiar to some. For those unfamiliar, rolling a 50 on a dv 40 is 1 degree, 60 2, 70 3, and so forth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IT IS 2026

THE "AMERICAN REVOLUTION" FAILED 250 YEARS AGO.

YOU HAVE LIVED IN BRITISH OCCUPIED AMERICA FOR YOUR ENTIRE LIFE, AS DID TEN GENERATIONS BEFORE YOU.

26 YEARS AGO, A COORDINATED SERIES OF ATTACKS ACROSS NEW YORK, PHILADELPHIA, AND BOSTON LEAD TO PARLIAMENT PASSING THE "ANTI-TERROR AND SECURITY ACT OF 2000", GIVING CROWN POLICE, ROYAL ARMED FORCES, AND THE VARIOUS INTELLIGENCE MINISTRIES BROADER POWERS THAN THEY PREVIOUSLY HELD. SURVEILLANCE IS A FACT OF LIFE.


IT IS 8:00 AM ON MONDAY, IN [Boston/NYC/Philadelphia]. YOU HAVE JUST LEFT THE FRONT DOOR TO YOUR HOME/APARTMENT. YOUR SHIFT AT [Retail store/Industrial Facility/Office] IS IN AN HOUR. TODAY YOU WILL [Walk, Take the bus, Take the subway, Take a cab]. THE AIR IS CRISP AND COOL, THE SKY A STEELY GREY. AN URBAN-CAMOUFLAGED ARMORED CAR TURNS LEFT ON THE BLOCK BEFORE YOU, IT'S DIESEL ENGINE WHINING MONSTROUSLY. AS IT PASSES YOU, THE EMPTY PUPIL OF IT'S REMOTELY CONTROLLED 12.7MM TURRET MEETS YOUR GAZE, TRACKING YOU FOR A FEW SHORT SECONDS BEFORE PIVOTING TO REGARD THE POTENTIAL THREATS AHEAD.

BETTER HURRY UP, YOU DON'T WANT TO GET FIRED

It has been millennia since humanity became a star faring race. Enough time for stellar regimes to have risen and fallen, for technologies to be forgotten and relearned and for a diaspora of life; both human and alien to spread across the galaxy.

The Raihan Empire is but one splinter of the human diaspora. At its height the Empire spanned eight star systems but eventually corruption and decay set in. The Empire collapsed, its great works crumbled, its worlds became isolated. For a thousand years it was so…

Until a new warlord arose on Raiha, one that managed to quell the disparate factions fighting over the Throne world. When all his enemies were vanquished he marched upon the palace district where the remnants of the Imperial family cowered. However, instead of seizing the throne for himself Arcturus Garan pledged himself and his army to the service of the remaining Empress and took the title of Lord Commander.

Together the Empress and Lord Commander began the process of rebuilding the Empire, first securing the home system, then bringing each of the wayward colonies back into the fold.

Five out of the original eight colonies have been absorbed back into the resurgent Empire. Only the systems of Noto, Higg and Kornen actively resist annexation. Together they have formed the NKH Defence Pact, or simply the Pact.

Now the Pact must guard its independence against the growing might of the New Raihan Empire. The odds are not in their favour, they are outnumbered and outgunned, but the Imperial Forces have not yet regained their full power and the war is not over yet…

((This quest is an indirect sequel to Space shipyard quest, knowledge of previous threads is not required but it will do much to add context. Previous threads can be found here: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=space+shipyard))

THE MONSTER KING ROARS!

A hundred years ago, during a GREAT WAR, Maou, THE MONSTER KING, has been defeated and sealed away by human HEROES. For a hundred years, he was biding his time, and recovering his strengh.

During that time, MONSTERS didn't dissapear from the world, but with MONSTER KING sealed, a person would need to be exceptionaly evil to transform. Places with evil aura can also spawn monsters on it's own! But not often. And with monster population low, the HEROES could always beat them back.

But now THE MONSTER KING stirs in his prison. He releases his power into the world in a terryfying roar! Humans who's heart is black on the inside, the ones harboring EVIL within them, cannot withstand the call of their inner monster, and by the power of MONSTER KING'S ROAR they transform!

ANTON PEAS: that’s your name, don’t wear it out! Originally a mild-mannered grilljockey, a botched demonic summoning brought you to ZORAL: a fantasy world shrouded in perpetual darkness!

You get used to it!

The memory loss and everyone trying to kill you? That’s the tricky part. See, your unexpected trip landed you in one Hell of a mess: not only did you lose a huge chunk of your memories, but you also forfeit your soul to RED--you don’t know the specifics, but essentially your summoning granted you some DEMONIC POWERS, so it’s not all bad!

What IS bad is what you’re up to now: your hellish helper can restore your memories, but he won’t do it for free! The price: delivering the heads of THE FOUR LORDS OF ZORAL: tyrants and titans that rule the darklands with iron fists, claws, and… you dunno, tentacles, maybe? There’s a reason they’ve ruled for so long, however, and despite your platoon of pals and plentiful powers you can’t help but feel a little apprehensive about the whole thing!

Exhibit A: ARCHMAGE TRIER. Arriving in UMBERAL: Zoral’s very own city of tomorrow, you were swiftly introduced to the TEKSOULS: menacing magitek that follow every whim Trier can think up… and you met the guy–he thinks a LOT!

Not to be outdone, you also ran into THE SPICE CARTEL--not only is Umberal their home turf, they’re also running some kind of deal with the Archmage… as for what it is, well, you shudder to think!

Your search for leverage over the Archmage took you to TRIMBAULT ACADEMY: Zoral’s most prestigious magical academy, and whole you managed to snag some goodies and teach a surprisingly-decent class (don’t ask), you didn’t manage to find notes other mages took on their Archmage adversary! Even worse, all signs point to The Cartel snatching them up for their own perfidious plots!

Luckily you had an in: TZAH-TZIE, skilled songstress and your current beau, has an axe to grind with her musical rival LUTZA. Having saved the starlet from a kidnapping on the Umberal Skyrail, you earned your way into holding a concert in Umberal, and some of the biggest names in The Cartel just happen to be huge fans!

You were just about to plot out the details at the glitzy CRYSTALMELT HOT SPRINGS LODGE when you ran smack-dab into The Cartel’s higher-ups… and the big cheese himself, VHALE NESSURMOS.

Did we mention he’s also your girlfriend’s husband? And that she freezes up like a clam on Pluto at the mere mention of his name?

Cornered by the Cartel, THIS is where your tale continues…

https://youtu.be/1lR8VLt1Xlk

>CONTD.

It's been a while, hasn't it? Let's start from the top.

You are Kyle Mercer. 23 years deep into a life of suffering. Though, you gotta admit it is far better to give than to receive.

It's reductive to say you "hear" voices. Truth is, you don't hear shit. You feel it, and it feels good, don't it?

Past Thread: >>6281756
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Missval
General Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/5hFQZtc3
Character Sheet: https://pastebin.com/x0sZyPY3 (New's here!)
Twitter/X account for important announcements, contact and stuff: https://x.com/MissvalQM


Your name is Shelly Suzume, and you’ve finally discovered what really happened to you all those years ago. About your condition, your mind, and the mess it’s become.

Unfortunately, the truth isn’t good news.

After a retrieval mission was abruptly changed at the last minute, you decided to take matters into your own hands and infiltrate the Black Sheep Family’s headquarters. You’d been here before. Partially, at least. But with the city under blackout and Grimm swarming the outskirts, this seemed like the perfect time to go deeper.

And, somehow, it paid off.

You found her. The scientist who once worked as a nurse back at Haven Academy. Cerise. You interrogated her, accidentally broke her nose, and finally learned what really happened to you. Why your mind fractures the way it does. Why children flinch when they see your eyes. Why… you’re the way you are.

To put it bluntly, Grimm-infused Dust emits waves that warp the brain in unnatural ways. That’s what happened to you. No cure, at least not yet, and considering how experimental this whole thing is, you’re not even sure if one even exists. But you’re not about to stop looking.

Cerise asked for your help finding someone. An associate of hers. You agreed, partly because you’re not a monster, partly because you needed her alive and cooperative if you wanted answers.

Then came the elevator. A tight, hidden shaft buried deep beneath the mountain. Halfway down, the power started to flicker. You tried to stabilize things with your Semblance, but it didn’t hold.

Long story short, the elevator crashed. You got off light. Just a few broken fingers and toes. At least you’re alive.

Cerise isn’t… that well. She’s unconscious, with a hit in the back of the head, and without Aura to heal herself.

Now you’re trapped deep in the Black Sheep’s hidden laboratories with a dying scientist in your arms. Given what you’ve heard about this place (The experiments, the lack of ethics, the vast number of unholy secrets), you have no idea what’s waiting for you down here.

But one thing’s clear. You have to save Cerise. Mostly because she’s probably the only person in Remnant who can help you fix what’s been done to your mind.

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.

With the campaign in Durnholde over and the loose threads there and back home in Dawnholme tied up, Alric for a moment could turn his thoughts towards enjoying a nice trip to Stormwind City with Malevus as this grand date.

But of course nothing can go as he wants and after dueling Grom Hellscream and getting wounded in the process, Alric realised the political reality in Stormwind being a much bigger and more complex obstacle. The melancholy of King Varian had for all purposes dragged the City to halt and only drastic measures could help the Stormwind City to recover. At least that was his and Lady Katrana Prestor's thinking.

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

Planet Dump25... Widely known as one of the worst planets in the galaxy, but not as bad as Dump26. The sickly glow of a diseased star irradiates this misbegotten place daily, providing a feeble facsimile of sunlight to the two and a half species of MISERABLE FUCK that live there.
the ELLY is a photosynthetic creature that uses its big veiny EARS to gather SUNLIGHT
the PHANT is a CARNIVORE, it EATS the ELLY
the BUTTLEECH is a FREELOADER, it SUCKS poop from the PHANT's butt
Perhaps in time, these genetic rejects will give rise to a thriving ecosystem... But probably not

Rules:
1. Find a creature suffering from environmental pressures
2. Copy it into MS Paint (or any other anti-aliased drawing program, if you're fancy like that)
3. Add a feature to the creature that will make it better at not dying
4. Reply to the post that had the old creature with your new, improved creature (and describe how it's different)
It's that easy! And they told me you needed a degree to be an evolutionary biologist...

You are Lorinda de Lindan, Princess, Inquisitor, and soon-to-be Tournament Champion! Well, not really, for you see the Inquisition is sending you into the Grand Tournament of Bloodgrave’s Fall as an agent to see if any otherworldly Strangers from the wicked and barbarous dimension of Earth sneak in to gain lands and glory right from under your father’s nose. Regretfully, the Inquisition has banned you from seeking victory as once your analysis of the competition is complete, it will be time to make a dramatic exit fitting of your desire to be the tournament’s underdog hero. Currently, there is a mere 14 days before the preliminary rounds begin for the duels where you shall compete. Now if only you knew the best way to prepare…

Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%20Isekai%20Inquisition

War War Never Changes.
They finally fucking did it. The bombs fell not long ago. The world is over. No more people. Just shambling radioactive corpses. No more nations just glowing craters, dust, and shadows of people that once were. No more seasons just nuclear winter. Shopping? no such thing. Have fun struggling to find a drop of water or a crumb of food that won't kill you. The rads oh god the fucking RADS, inescapable and everpresent. Truly the end of the world. Rapture maybe happened and whatever is left...well most people are quickly giving up on God. Kinda hard to keep believing when the world ended and you were left behind. Except for the zealots anyway but those guys are crazy as the cannibalistic raiders.

That isn't even getting into all the weird shit that keeps happening and becoming. Makes you wish it was 'just' a nuclear winter. Walking corpses. Mutants. Inexplicable anomalies. Unnatural terrain. Strange whispers that you aren't the only one hearing. Honestly it just keeps getting worse...especially with everything you have to do just to 'survive'. Living...living is just a luxury that only the pre war world got to enjoy. You meanwhile are just another poor sucker caught up in this clusterfuck trying to survive.

(This quest will be ripping heavily from games like Fallout, Metro, Stalker, and Bioshock basically anything that fits within the setting just to keep things interesting)

>Character Creation
The younger you are, the more bonus SPECIAL points you will start with. However the older you are, the more bonus skill points you will start with. You may choose any trait from any game OR include a custom option that may be vetoed by me IF its too unbalanced. Custom traits MUST include both positive and negative effects otherwise it's an automatic veto.

The first character will be a male because this is about a dynasty over the generations. So long as you have a living family member the game will not end however, your characters can and WILL die over time. A male starter character will provide insurance. So if you are an elderly grandpa, the minimum is 21 SPECIAL points. Just keep in mind old age is a real bitch, especially in such a hazardous environment(debuffs for age are a thing).

Sitting at Alvor's table and munching on a piece of bread, you mull over your situation for what must be the hundredth time this week. Sigrid, Alvor's wife, has been giving you the stink eye for the last couple of days, assuaged a little by the hours you've been putting in at the mill to earn some septims. You've overheard her argue with Alvor at night in their own language (which you guess is Nordic), in which you've heard your name spoken aloud a few times--and not with affection. You tear off another chunk of bread. You could murder a quater-pounder with cheese right about now, but meat is apparently the food of kings around these parts. Even so, you're getting tired of cabbage and leek soup.

"No work at the mill today?" asks Sigrid pointedly.

You shake your head and swallow. "Log jam. Hod's taking a look. Should be fixed soon." You know she means well. She was the one that nursed you back to health when you washed up at the riverbank. She had even spent some of her own savings to buy you a health potion from Lucan--if not for that, you might have died from the injuries. But, at the same time, hospitality has its limits. Her husband's a blacksmith, which means they're not exactly starving but an extra mouth to feed is never really welcome, especially one that's been so vague about where it came from and why. And so, you've been planning to move on, except every time you think about what's happened, how you got here, and what it all means, and especially what might have happened to Lem, you have a panic attack.

But anyway, here are the facts as far as you understand them:
One: Skyrim, for some reason, is real and you somehow washed up here (in Riverwood to be exact) after the kayak accident. You haven't seen Lem, your best friend, yet. Chances are he didn't make it.
Two: This version of Skyrim is nothing like the game. It's an actual world, not a computer program. There aren't stats, levels, skill points. There's no NPCs. Almost nothing is abstracted like it is in the game. The other day you tried picking some red flowers down by the river. In the game you just point and press a button and the flowers are in your inventory. Here, you actually have to pick them one by one, and you have to be careful not to damage the plant or cut yourself on the thorns. The locations and the places are still the same, there's Riverwood, and you've heard about Whiterun and even Bleak Falls Barrow from Lucan, but if Riverwood is anything to go by, those places should be much bigger and more complex than they were in the game.
Three: The dragons haven't shown up yet. There is a civil war going on between the Imperial Legion and the Stormcloaks as in the game, but when you asked about the dragons, Alvor just looked puzzled and started talking about the Throat of the World and the Greybeards.


1/2

Totemists, one of the first lines of defense against the malicious and monstrous, famed slayers of Behemoths which are perhaps the most dangerous examples of such, and bridge to the domains of spirits and magic unseen. The role is not an easy one of course, but it must be done and has been since time before almost all written history.

You are Capran, young man of the Four Peaks mountains, pupil of Oranya Skystrike.

There has been a lot of unrest on the mountain slopes lately, the issue growing further with each day it seems, but with your teacher still guiding you, there will always be a way to deal with it the trouble.

Such as this post mimic, which stands on thin wood-splinter-like legs and angrily spears them into the ground beneath it at the failure of its ambush. You stand nearby your teacher and her friend Heyra, ready and willing to destroy this mimic.

Awful thing. You're rather happy you three are the one who found it rather than some poor patrol guard or villager.

>Cont

Use your knowledge of Cartoons to steal the F-16.
What will you do after you've stolen it?

PRELUDE In the third decade of the 21st century, the nations of Mankind contested Cislunar Space, the vast darkness that begins 35,000 kilometres above Earth in geosynchronous orbit, approaching beyond 380,000 km to reach the surface of the Moon.

Your name is Vincent Cruz. You work in a shady government-backed facility in the middle of the New Mexico desert. By all accounts, you are still a complete and total nobody.

You've spent the last five days struggling to survive in this new world. Your new job now involves studying and researching various anomalous entities in order to make money for the Abnormality Regulation Coalition (also known as ARC).

Somehow you've managed to do a good job over the last five days, despite having no formal experience being a researcher. It's been a struggle to get adjusted to everything but you're shocked at how good of a job you've been doing.

You suppose it's not your first time dealing with anomalous entities. You have vague memories of this chained, bleeding heart that you encountered in the past. You don't know why but you feel like that thing is watching you. You're not sure why it's so interested in you, you're a nobody after all.

Maybe that's part of the reason ARC dragged you off the streets? Who knows. Nothing about your new job makes that much sense.

As for a recap of what happened, you just finished your latest shift. You had to fight for your life against a heavily armed man who wanted you dead. You managed to beat him thanks to sheer dumb luck and in the process, you're earnt the mild respect of some of your coworkers. The rest of the day went over pretty smoothly, all things considered.

You also met two new weirdos, Moxxie and Edward, who might be trustworthy enough to hire in the future. You need as many friends as you can in a place like this. Even if most of the 'friends' you have here are way too weird for your liking.

You owe Colt a favor now after you got him drunk because of an experiment. You need to find a way to get some rifle ammo for his gun. That'll be a headache to deal with but you do owe it to him.

You're now ready to start another day. To face the music, to endure whatever ARC throws your way. All you can really do is to find a way to keep surviving. Day after day, week after week, month after month. This is your new life now, whether you like it or not.

Oh well. You're a wageslave, all you really know at this point is work. You might as well do a good job while you're stuck here, right? There's not really any other path for a husk like you. Haaa.

ARCHIVE: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Low%20Rung
VINCENT SHEET/INVENTORY: https://rentry.co/VINCENTSHEET
ALLIES: https://rentry.co/COWORKERLIST
ANOMALY NOTES: https://rentry.co/RESEARCHNOTES

Welcome to CBF, a game set in the cyberpunk future of Charleston, SC, using the horror/urban fantasy world of Changeling: The Lost (and most of the rest of World of Darkness) as it's larger backdrop.

You will be a Changeling, someone that was taken by the True Fae to an alien realm, Arcadia, across the hedge between reality and dreams. They left a Fetch behind in your place, a simulacrum that took your place among your friends and family, making your disappearance unnoticeable. While in captivity, you were traumatized, and forcibly transformed into a creature, or perhaps a decoration, or tool. You've since escaped, back to the real world, back to Charleston, SC, now, in the year 2198.

You command certain supernatural abilities by making contracts and pacts with the forces of nature and reality, and can also make magically binding bargains with other Changelings and mortals. To non-fae creatures, you are by all appearances a human, maybe quite similar to your original self, but possibly older, younger, scarred, or with certain traits having since been altered - time passes in strange ways within Arcadia, and the marks left by the True Fae vary in their subtlety. Other Changelings, fae creatures, and certain other supernatural beings, however, can see past the Mask of concealing faerie magic, and view your true self - be that a musclebound troll, or an automaton cobbled together from wax and copper in your own former image.

Megacorporations and stranger monsters than yourself pull the strings of society in these neon nights, and you will struggle with maintaining your humanity, and sanity, while navigating the maddening world of the fae, and the soul-crushing dystopia that's been produced by generations of greedy, sociopathic humans. You escaped from the creature that abducted you some ten years ago, and have survived in that time by honing your skills and picking your battles.

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
_

Your nap is a fitful, restless thing, filled with nightmares and feverish dreams that you lose memory of quickly even though they trouble you greatly and prevent you from waking up energized and bright eyed. When you do wake up, your elder sister is sitting over you with a warm smile on her ghostly, frost flecked fur. And for a moment you wonder how much of your recent memories were a dream, before sensing withing yourself the power and technique that proves that most of them were in fact real.

"Did the spiders enjoy my bouquet of bone and meat?" You ask tiredly, fluttering your eyes as you sit up and lazily lick the back of your paw as you sister, who isn't shy about showing her distaste for your method of bribery and payment clicks her teeth and whines irritatedly

"Oh they were overjoyed by the delicacy of your flesh sister, and after I managed to convince them to try your...fruit, they found it most pleasing to their monstrous palate. In fact, they found it so tasty and spiritually rich and potent, they nearly abstained from eating your guts and limbs entirely" She told you, grimacing as she looked away "Did..did you have to slice of your breasts along with your thighs"

"Fatty meat is the most succulent and delectable" You answered with a sneer "Besides, both grew back as readily as any other part of me I cut off. It was the arms and legs that took the most energy and effort to sprout again"

"I really hope you aren't becoming like that mushroom girl or her family. You're a cat, not a rose bush" Xuebai hissed and you laughed

"I am Huanliuxue and I can be whatever I choose or aspire to be!" You declare loudly "But I'm glad the spider demons accepted my payment and..."

"They've given you an extra visits worth of protection, they were so pleased. Though, the way they devoured the fruits to their pits, makes me worry they might try and plant you in their garden as a permanent guest" She cuts you off, eyes sharp and icy

"Well, at least they're right minded enough to know to properly admired and nurture one as magnificent and beautiful as I" You brush off that actually somewhat disturbing thought of being potted like an orchid flower "And what generosity to extend the warranty of this red string wrapped tightly around my finger"

"They're making cat meat preserved in bloody wine in that manor over the refuse pit they live in"

"Must be a lovely vintage, always wondered how I'd taste pickled" You snicker, delighting in the sickened and nauseas look that crosses over your sisters face "Oh lighten up, I'd pay them in kind and eat them if I had the chance"

Cont

You're a plague rat.

You don't remember much about your past. Your life before the plague settled within you is a mystery. The plague doesn't affect you, and you're not sure how it would affect others if they got infected. You feel an itch to spread it though. You also feel like you'll grow stronger and maybe learn something about the plague if you do.

Your little body still aches, not from the plague, but rather as if from a long journey making your muscles sore.

Around you, in the dark, is flowing waste, the pitter-patter of water drops on wet stone, and the stench, the unmistakable stench of the sewers. You think you also hear the squeaking of other rats. The stone tunnels stretch before you.

What will you do, little rat?
>Find someone to spread the plague to. A misfit dwelling in the sewers? Other rats?
>Map the area. Check what's above the sewers. Maybe there's something of note within them as well.

Humanity has spread out into a massive sprawling empire throughout the galaxy. The edges of the sprawl remain poorly guarded and sparsely settled after all humanity throughout a thousand stars has always been alone save for their own creations which once waged war against them. This is no longer true now an unknown force has begun to attack sector 63 and other sectors and it is up to poorly supplied and desperate sailors to hold them back.


You are the Admiral of the naval fleet of sector 63 one of nearly a 100 rimward sectors on the edge of settled human space. The war has finally turned in humanity's favor the once unending horde of bird ships, who you now know are called the Argono have finally ebbed away. Your industry soars and the first of the friendly fleets have begun to probe from Mid Rim sector 63 in your own sector to hopefully soon relieve you.

You're currently on patrol facing off against a small fleet of enemy ships made up of 4 battleships, 2 battlescruisers and 12 Heavy cruisers facing off against your veteran picket line of corvettes, destroyers, and several light cruisers along with your freshly converted semi guided missile cruiser. The enemies' lasers dance around the picket line as the push forward even as your missile cruiser comes to a stop and turns to give the enemy their broadside. There's several large flashes as all 12 of its missiles fire and burn fast toward the enemy capital ships. There is some swearing over comms as the missiles zip past the picket line and your strike craft but the pilots and captains are too busy dodging incoming fire as they loose their own torpedo strikes to give too much complaint.

Could I get a 1d100 best of three please

Past Threads:https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=BrinkQM

Our bittersweet farewell to youth.

You are Fiona Jarnafeldt, L2S Trollslayer, and you are in serious trouble.

Today you were deployed on a mission to save dozens of kidnapped citizens from the starving squatter city under Helsinki. You saved dozens from a sect of cannibals, only to come across a strange realization; they may have been receiving aid from a rogue government agent who wanted nothing but to see the system you work for destroyed. This rogue agent, a living tree by the name of Zephyr, operated within the Stormdrain to provide... something to the underdwellers. Information, probably.

Maybe it was him that helped pull strings to delete camera logs. Covered the tracks of the thieves. Maybe he even told them about what was carried on a train that came into Helsinki the month before you joined, causing a battle that killed dozens of Stormwatch members.

On the train was a suit of pneumatic powered armor, fashioned from kevlar and carbon fiber components from the stormy city of Chicago by their advanced heavy robotics division. This suit was made exclusively for an elite member of the Stormwatch of lanky proportions. The intended owner, L4 Nonoka Sumika, has an unusual and atypically tall and thin stature that should have made it so, even if stolen, no regularly shaped human could be able to wear it without so much modification that it couldn't work.

And yet, that suit stands in front of you, fully operational, standing eight feet tall, its broad hat casting a black shadow over the thing that has come to possess it.

That thing is an aberration of humanity, that goes by the name of "She." Given its stature, it would be rated as a Troll, but being armored in what it is, it's far more dangerous than its class suggests. Though sources had claimed She was a Finnish river spirit by the name called a Nakki, this is something else entirely. The sensation of water observed by others was misinformation gleaned from the pneumatic exhaust of subliminated hydrogen radiating from the suit and sound She seems to keep uttering, a verbal tick similar to the sound of residual hydrogen mixing with air to form water.

Po, po, po.