The throne room shakes with the sound of collapsing stone. Smoke billows through shattered windows. Screams echo from below as the undead breach the final gates. You stand beside your father—the last King of the Ancient Flame—his silver beard stained with blood, his armor scorched, yet his eyes burning with defiance.

Behind you, the court magician’s lifeless body lies crumpled before the glowing portal he conjured. The magic surges violently, wild and unstable. Sparks crackle across the arch as if the heavens themselves resist this desperate escape.

Your father turns to you, grim and proud.
"I’ll hold them back with the last of my knights. My daughter, our legacy must live on. Go through the portal into another world, take our people, our hope—take the seed of our flame. The prophecy says only one of our line can stop the Lich King forever. It must be you."

His voice lowers.
"Choose wisely who you take. The portal will seal forever after the hundredth soul passes through."

You hesitate only for a breath, then turn to the frightened crowd gathered behind you in the war-scarred hall—Courtiers with their silks stained in soot, Scribes clutching scrolls, wide-eyed Pages no older than twelve, weary Servants, and hardened Tradespeople who once filled the castle with goods and crafts.

The future of your people—of the world—now rests in your hands.

Choose who to take with you. You may bring up to 99 others.

State how many Courtiers you will bring (nobles, advisors, high-born figures), how many Scribes (keepers of knowledge, historians, magicians-in-training), how many Pages (youthful attendants, potential squires or apprentices), how many Servants (cooks, cleaners, caretakers), and how many Tradespeople (blacksmiths, carpenters, farmers, hunters, and other skilled workers). If you wish, specify the gender of each group.

Also choose your name.

>>6243495 (OP)

Here are some options:

> Courtier-skewed: 40 Courtiers, 15 Scribes, 10 Pages, 20 Servants, 14 Tradespeople – Strong leadership and influence, but weak in survival skills.
> Scribe-skewed: 5 Courtiers, 50 Scribes, 5 Pages, 15 Servants, 24 Tradespeople – Magic and knowledge focused, but lacks authority and resilience.
> Page-skewed: 5 Courtiers, 5 Scribes, 50 Pages, 20 Servants, 19 Tradespeople – Builds for the future with youth, but vulnerable early on.
> Servant-skewed: 3 Courtiers, 5 Scribes, 6 Pages, 60 Servants, 25 Tradespeople – Prioritizes support and care, but lacks strength and vision.
> Tradespeople-skewed: 2 Courtiers, 4 Scribes, 3 Pages, 10 Servants, 80 Tradespeople – Built to survive and rebuild, but low in guidance and legacy.
> Balanced: 10 Courtiers, 15 Scribes, 10 Pages, 24 Servants, 40 Tradespeople – A stable, adaptable group ready for both survival and the long war.
> Write in

>>6243499
> Balanced: 10 Courtiers, 15 Scribes, 10 Pages, 24 Servants, 40 Tradespeople – A stable, adaptable group ready for both survival and the long war.
Idk maybe take the Court magician's lifeless body, he doesn't have a soul anymore but hes probably got some useful stuff on him, also he was a dear friend we can bury on the other side.

Name I'm thinking Petra

>>6243499
>10 Courtiers, 15 Scribes, 14 Pages, 20 Servants, 40 Tradespeople – Just slightly more Pages over Servants.
When in doubt, balance it out. And if we can't take his body as the one who made this whole scheme possible, take a personal effect and one from our father as well, as a final memento.
>Ione

>>6243499
>> Balanced: 10 Courtiers, 15 Scribes, 10 Pages, 24 Servants, 40 Tradespeople – A stable, adaptable group ready for both survival and the long war.

>>6243499
> Balanced: 10 Courtiers, 15 Scribes, 10 Pages, 24 Servants, 40 Tradespeople – A stable, adaptable group ready for both survival and the long war.
Adelaide.

>>6243499
>Page-skewed: 5 Courtiers, 5 Scribes, 50 Pages, 20 Servants, 19 Tradespeople – Builds for the future with youth, but vulnerable early on.

Rolled 3 (1d3)

>>6243506
>>6243562
>>6243573


1 - Petra
2 - Ione
3 - Adelaide

>>6243663

As the great stones of the castle crack and groan under the weight of war, Princess Adelaide gathers the chosen—ninety-nine souls entrusted with the legacy of a dying world.

Ten Courtiers walk beside her, once proud nobles now soot-streaked and grim. Among them is Lady Meriane, her sharp mind undulled by panic, and Lord Halven, wounded yet standing tall. These are the voices that will help her guide a new people in a foreign land.

Fifteen Scribes hurry close behind, their arms full of tomes, scrolls, and ink-stained satchels. High Scribe Enlor clutches a worn book of prophecies, eyes haunted by all he’s read. Young apprentice Mira carries a half-finished grimoire bound in silver thread.

The ten Pages—some not even in their teens—stay close together. They carry only light packs, their faces pale but determined. One of them, a freckled boy named Torren, keeps glancing back at the throne room door, lips moving in silent prayer for those staying behind.

Twenty-four Servants, the invisible lifeblood of the castle, move with practiced coordination. Old Martha, the cook, has tied a bundle of herbs to her belt. Several caretakers help the smallest Page carry his too-large pack. Though none wear armor, they form the steadiest ranks.

And forty Tradespeople bring the muscle and means to survive—blacksmiths, farmers, hunters, carpenters. Among them is Varn, the stonemason, who carries his chisel like a relic. Kessa, the archer, keeps a bow slung across her back, eyes sharp with readiness. There are tanners, weavers, brewers, and even a beekeeper.

As they begin to file through the shimmering portal, Princess Adelaide hesitates at the edge.

She turns to the court magician’s body, twisted where it fell, his face at peace despite the storm around him. She kneels beside him, brushing the ash from his sleeve. She considers dragging his body through—to bury him in gentler soil—but the portal’s magic pulses ominously at her touch.

What if it counts him? What if one of the living is left behind because of me?

Instead, she unclasps the silver rune-charm from his neck. It’s small—barely larger than a coin—and warm with residual magic. It once glowed when danger was near. She hangs it from a cord and ties it around her wrist.

Then her father, already striding toward the barricaded door with sword in hand, turns one last time. He removes his royal signet from his finger—gold, set with a ruby shaped like a flame—and presses it into her palm.

"For when you reclaim our name. Let them know whose blood runs in your veins."

She grips it tightly.
"I’ll light the fire again, Father. I swear it."

The castle shudders violently. The portal ripples and shrinks slightly.

With the rune-charm at her wrist and the royal signet tucked close to her heart, Princess Adelaide steps through the glowing veil—
—into another world.
A new beginning.
A last hope.

The portal closes forever.
Your journey begins.

>>6243668

To where does the portal lead you?

> Temperate Forest: You emerge beneath towering trees, the air thick with birdsong and the scent of damp earth. Sunlight filters through a shifting green canopy. Wood is abundant, the game is plentiful, and rivers snake through the land—but there’s an ancient hush here, and you soon notice stone altars swallowed by moss, and strange symbols carved into bark. Something old sleeps beneath the soil.
> Highland Plateau: The portal opens onto windswept heights, where the sky stretches wide and wild. Rolling hills and jagged ridges offer clear views in all directions—ideal for watching your enemies, but also exposing you to the bitter wind and storms. There’s little wood, less water, and no one around for miles. But in the distance, the bones of a ruined fortress promise shelter… and perhaps danger.
> Coastal Dunes: Salt clings to your skin as you step onto pale sand under a cloudless sky. The sea roars nearby, and gulls circle overhead. Small shrubs and wind-blasted trees cling to life among the dunes. Fishing will be vital here, as will salvaging driftwood and seaweed. It’s a place of trade and exploration—if you can tame the unpredictable tides and find a way to anchor civilization in sand.
> Volcanic Valley: A deep, cracked basin welcomes you with warmth that radiates from the very stone. The ground is dark and rich, perfect for planting, but it hisses and steams from vents and shallow magma flows. Precious minerals glitter in the cliffs. It is a place of power, both promise and peril. One wrong step could mean death, yet it may be here that your people grow strong and unbreakable.
> Misty Marshlands: Your feet splash down into soft, wet earth. Mist coils like serpents through a world of still water, mossy trees, and haunting birdcalls. Healing herbs grow in abundance, and strange lights flicker in the distance. But this is a place where paths shift and sink, where the dead might whisper in the fog. Settling here means listening closely—to the land, and to whatever else stirs in it.
> Shattered Desert: You fall to your knees on cracked stone, the air dry as bone. Towering red cliffs rise around you, carved with runes long forgotten. Heat beats down from a merciless sun, and sand creeps into everything. Survival will be brutal. Yet ancient ruins lie half-buried here, and you sense power sleeping beneath the dunes. To claim it, you must endure. And endure hard.
> Write in

>>6243672
>Temperate Forest

We will be able to fortify ourselves easily, and survive while we build our strength. What beauty does this land hold! But we must remain on our guard, we know not what lies just out of sight, hiding behind trees unseen. Father, how I wish I had your guidance....

>>6243672
>> Volcanic Valley: A deep, cracked basin welcomes you with warmth that radiates from the very stone. The ground is dark and rich, perfect for planting, but it hisses and steams from vents and shallow magma flows. Precious minerals glitter in the cliffs. It is a place of power, both promise and peril. One wrong step could mean death, yet it may be here that your people grow strong and unbreakable.

>>6243672
> Volcanic Valley: A deep, cracked basin welcomes you with warmth that radiates from the very stone. The ground is dark and rich, perfect for planting, but it hisses and steams from vents and shallow magma flows. Precious minerals glitter in the cliffs. It is a place of power, both promise and peril. One wrong step could mean death, yet it may be here that your people grow strong and unbreakable.

>>6243663
That’s what I’m talking about.
>>6243672
> Volcanic Valley: A deep, cracked basin welcomes you with warmth that radiates from the very stone. The ground is dark and rich, perfect for planting, but it hisses and steams from vents and shallow magma flows. Precious minerals glitter in the cliffs. It is a place of power, both promise and peril. One wrong step could mean death, yet it may be here that your people grow strong and unbreakable.

>>6243672
>> Highland Plateau: The portal opens onto windswept heights, where the sky stretches wide and wild. Rolling hills and jagged ridges offer clear views in all directions—ideal for watching your enemies, but also exposing you to the bitter wind and storms. There’s little wood, less water, and no one around for miles. But in the distance, the bones of a ruined fortress promise shelter… and perhaps danger.

>>6243672
>> Write in
mid-90s Tokyo

>>6243672
>> Shattered Desert: You fall to your knees on cracked stone, the air dry as bone. Towering red cliffs rise around you, carved with runes long forgotten. Heat beats down from a merciless sun, and sand creeps into everything. Survival will be brutal. Yet ancient ruins lie half-buried here, and you sense power sleeping beneath the dunes. To claim it, you must endure. And endure hard.


We going Dune now.

You stumble out of the portal into searing air and a land shaped by fire.

The Volcanic Valley stretches wide—cracked black stone underfoot, with glowing veins of magma beneath a thin crust. Steam hisses from vents, and the air stings with heat and sulfur. Behind you, the portal vanishes with a final gasp of magic. It is gone. This is your new world.

Your people stand in stunned silence. Then High Scribe Enlor steps forward, raising a trembling hand.

“By the light of the Old Flame, and for those who stayed behind—we give thanks. Let this land remember them in fire and in stone.”

A few weep. Most begin moving, driven by survival.

Scouts quickly find a hot spring—its waters clean and steaming gently. To the north, young trees rise around the flanks of a sleeping volcano. The ground is rich and black, perfect for crops—though no one forgets it could all be buried in flame tomorrow.

“Good dirt,” says Old Martha, lifting a handful. “But fickle.”

Then, as dusk falls, the moons rise—green, red, and blue—casting strange light across the magma flows.

And there, near the lava pools, you see them.

Fire Elementals, graceful and glowing, shaped like dancing women of living flame. They laugh like crackling fire and toss molten streams at each other, playing.

They haven’t noticed you. Or they’re pretending not to.

What will you do next?

> Approach the elementals peacefully – Try to speak with them. They may be more than they seem.
> Observe from a distance – Study them for a few days before taking risks.
> Move camp further away – Avoid them and settle somewhere safer near the spring.
> Send a scouting party – A few brave souls to approach and report back.
> Fortify your camp – Prepare for trouble—better safe than burned.
> Make a magical offering – Use your heirlooms to reach out with respect and ritual.
> Write in

>>6243841
>> Observe from a distance – Study them for a few days before taking risks.

>>6243841
> Observe from a distance – Study them for a few days before taking risks.
> Fortify your camp – Prepare for trouble—better safe than burned.
Surely we can do both.

>>6243841
>>6243910
Seconded

>>6243910
+1

>>6243841
>> Move camp further away – Avoid them and settle somewhere safer near the spring.
Get situating ourselves seems prudent.