After arriving in Teraburg, a city teetering on the brink of chaos, the party was forced to seek refuge there, but tensions rose quickly. Caleb, afflicted by a ghoul curse due to a vampire’s bite, was taken to the city dungeons, while the rest of the group, including Gris, attempted to find sanctuary. Meanwhile, the kobold in your group, wary of human cities, stayed hidden in the outskirts.

In Teraburg, Gris fell gravely ill, bleeding uncontrollably due to her resurrection through dragon blood. The group sought out a priest who, recognizing her unique predicament, provided her with a small vial of dragon blood—the last in his possession. He explained that Gris must consume dragon blood every few days to survive, a harsh reminder of the consequences of such a desperate resurrection. Despite her own financial struggles, Gris donated her last coins to the priest in gratitude, determined to support his work in the underfunded temple.

The group then negotiated Caleb's release from the dungeons, convincing the chief guard with a bribe and promising to take Caleb out of the city. Recognizing the dangers in traveling on foot, you purchased a wagon and horse, equipping yourselves for the journey ahead.

Before leaving Teraburg, you encountered a dark elf named Zamora, fleeing accusations of poisoning the local baron. Zamora shared her life story: a pacifist alchemist with seven children from various human partners, she had fled the oppressive society of her kind. She carried an adamantine charm—a gift from the Spider Mother—that extended her already long lifespan. Though cautious of bringing more trouble, you invited Zamora to join your group, valuing her skills in potion-making.

As you traveled, the bard in your group often sang alongside Gris, their music a welcome distraction from the hardships of the road. Heavy rain on the first day slowed progress, and on the third day, you passed an abandoned, fire-damaged tavern. It was there that you decided to summon Nabi, your dragon companion, recognizing that Gris would soon need more dragon blood.

Nabi, nearly recovered from his previous wounds, arrived but seemed uneasy, sensing danger. Moments later, a wyvern rider appeared on the horizon, circling ominously. The wyvern was massive, much larger than Nabi, and clearly searching for an opening to attack. Caleb speculated that Nabi had been fleeing from this creature when summoned.

Realizing escape was unlikely, you organized your group to prepare for battle. Ruth and Megara began crafting a powerful spell, while Zamora readied an explosive potion. Nabi and Caleb stood poised to defend, while Gris aimed to strike the rider if necessary. The wyvern descended, its screeches piercing the air, targeting one of you. The battle loomed as your party braced for the deadly confrontation ahead.

Previous Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6134429/
>>6134429

Welcome back to False God Quest - a relatively text-light fantasy quest with simple hex art. Both new and old players are always welcome!

<span class="mu-s">WELCOME TO THE AMERICAN FEVER DREAM.</span>

Have you ever heard such an eye-catching phrase? The poster before you certainly draws the attention of anyone who notices it. It's endearing, even. Yet you are filled with regret every time you look at it --- the landmine loaded with high-explosive cynicism could blow up in your face if you let your gaze linger upon it for too long.

You walk backwards, plunk yourself down into your office chair, and let out a long exhale out of deep relief, having finished moving the last of the boxes to your new Office in District P. Your wandering eyes drift upwards, following your invisible breath as one would follow a rising trail of cigarette smoke. Sometimes, it's important to mindlessly contemplate the eroticism of ceiling tiles. And some other pleasant-sounding nonsense.

Anyway.

You suppose you should introduce yourself.

OFFICE CALM (Atrium Carceri, Cities Last Broadcast, God Body Disconnect - A Thousand Empty Rooms) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5jfU1HN2pSQ

You are <span class="mu-s">JOHN SMITH</span> or, to put it another way, <span class="mu-g">MISTER ANONYMOUS.</span> Your name is not terribly important these days.

But, in the gaze of others, the work that you do has earned you the moniker of a <span class="mu-s">TROUBLESHOOTER.</span> Someone who finds trouble, and shoots it.

You do not have problems, but you have solutions.

So your sought-after peace of mind is fleeting. There are clients to be heard, work to done, rent to be paid, and you hate the future for holding the power of expectations over you.

Let's get to work.

You were just a regular person attending university in his 20s. Studies took up your days and on your free time you would choose to play video games or hang out with your friends.

That is until the intrusive thoughts came...

Friends in your dorm suddenly noticed you began acting strangely, fatigued, jumpy, anxious. Your studies began to suffer. Then your family started asking if there was something wrong as they received worrying reports from the school about your condition.

You tried to keep going as if everything was normal...and fine...and peachy....until one day you just couldn't do it anymore.

And. You. Just. SNAPPED!

(This is a CYOA where you play as a schizo in modern day and depending on your choices, your schizo can end up differently. Not all of them "good", not all of them "bad". Examples of different outcomes include being a Orthodox Christian Monk in a Monastry attempting to achieve unity with God or a O9A Satanic Neo Nazi insurgent or a wandering vagabond who collects spare bottles for cash and many more.)

For now choose the nature of your intrusive thoughts:

A.) Religious: Your Schizo is suffering from intrusive thoughts relating to that of a religious nature. Your schizo has never thought about religion before but now seems to be getting signs from the divine and has no idea what to do with it.

B.) Paranoid: It started with doubts whether your friends liked you but now it has blown into full paranoia over whether strangers want to harm you or not. Your eyes wander every corner, every nook and cranny for any possible means to bring damage to your soft supple body.

C.) Narcissistic: Your schizo is seeing himself in a brand new light. Some would say holy light if your schizo believes in such things. He at least believes himself to be a gift to humanity and sees himself as superior in almost every way and can't stand it when someone breaks his ego even in the tiniest of ways.

D.) Violent: Your schizo is suffering from violent intrusive thoughts which constantly fill him with the visualization of harming others. Cutting people, bashing their heads or breaking their bones are all thoughts that have made it to your schizo one way or another. What your schizo does in response to this is up to you.

E.) Write up your own option of what intrusive thoughts your schizo has been plagued with.

Pick race and location.

<span class="mu-i">Another night, another job, another chance to let off some steam. This place is all algae in vats and pounding music, neon-stained walls to strobing lightshows, the kind of place up and coming new money goes to mingle with crashing down and falling old money. That guy in the corner? He's violating his NDA, trading trade secrets for a drink - and those two? They don't even work here, they just like to wear the clothes to pretend, maybe overhear some gossip. But you're not here for all that. All the intrigue and slow pulse-pounding joy of the dance and the band can pass you by. You're here for a job. Somewhere in this mess of mingling movers and shakers is a journalist, a source she's hunting and a whole gaggle of goons who'd rather she didn't. Time to dance, Agent. At least you get a bar tap this time...</span>

The era you're in began thirty years ago, A wealthy businessman by the name of Johan Mezzer, Who had held aspirations of exploring the cosmos had found allies in the political sphere, would be autocrats and industry moguls had agreed to back his ambitions in exchange for the resources they'd needed to carry out their own desires.

And so, through his wealth, His influence as the world's wealthiest man, Humanity was united into the Iron flag federation. And Johan was given the greatest scientists each nation that allowed his influence had to offer in order to research and develop the technology needed to explore the stars.. However, His ambitions outweighed his patience, Corners were cut, The phrase 'good enough' uttered a fair few times too many. Leading to the conditions of the nearspace colonies, And the lunar cities to be barely livable. .
The resulting unrest dug the state of this era an even deeper hole, With Johan developing the deadly 'Mobile suit' technology to suppress the dissident, Even so, A few rebels on the moon managed to capture one of these suits, And replicated it utilizing a ferrous metal found only on the moon for armor plating. These rebels would proceed to drive Mezzer and his budding Spacian nation away . The moon-folk having taken to calling their stretches of cities the 'rabbits colonies' Their own mobile suits, Called 'G-strafers' Valiantly defending their independence from their founder's ends.

This defiance had paved the way for other insurgents in the colonies too far for Mezzer's iron grasp to matter,

New Liberatatia: A veritable navy oh space pirates, Dozens of crews, each with their own desires dreams and ideals, bound together to protect these things from would be oppressors.

And the Colonial separatist union: A more organized group of insurgents that have banded together in an effort to actively liberate the colonies, And create a more permanent, Stable solution to the issues of this era with no hope.

This terminal century

Before we are introduced to our hero, We must take a vote. What faction was he born to? And what is his allegiance at the start? this result will be determined by the first ten replies.

Ostrosk has fallen. The weakened hosts of Chaos march, dispersing in the north and the east, exhausted from their march and conquest of Ostrosk, the crow-headed sorceress roasted and her ashes scattered and her sister, still in a cage, being dragged behind by Rue'Vahn eastwards towards Chamon Dharek.

Previous thread:
>>6106280

You were a black dragon, a terror that haunted the dreams of mortals, your presence alone enough to drive entire regions to despair. The adventurers who dared invade your lair were no match for your might. Their swords clanged harmlessly off your scales, and their magic fizzled like raindrops against a roaring fire. One by one, you dispatched them, your strength undeniable even as their blows left painful scars across your body. The last one, the leader, lay at your feet, gasping his final breath. His defiance burned brighter than his life force. "You will pay for all those girls you kidnapped," he rasped, blood trickling from his lips. "If not in this life, then the next!"

You sneered, the sound like distant thunder. "Your curses are as pitiful as your swordsmanship." With a swift, merciless strike, you silenced him, his body falling limp in a pool of crimson. Turning, you prepared to bask in your victory and indulge in the spoils of your conquest—the captives you’d taken, trembling in the shadows. But before you could take a step, a blinding light illuminated the cavern, its radiance cutting through the darkness.

From the golden glow emerged the avatar of the elf goddess. Her form was ethereal, her silver hair flowing as if caught in a divine breeze, and her emerald eyes burned with righteous fury. You let out a growl, the deep rumble echoing off the cavern walls. "What do you want?" you demanded, your voice weary yet laced with venom. "I’ve had enough interruptions for one day."

"Return the girls, dragon," she commanded, her tone unyielding, "or I will see to it that you are punished."

A low chuckle escaped your maw. "You’re not supposed to meddle in mortal affairs, goddess. Stick to your forests and let me enjoy my spoils. The god of dragons will hear of this interference."

For a moment, the goddess hesitated, doubt flickering in her eyes. But her resolve solidified, her voice ringing out like a blade striking steel. "Your atrocities cannot go unanswered. You will know the suffering you’ve inflicted."

"Wait," you began, raising a claw, "perhaps we can—"

But the goddess’s spell was already upon you. Pain seared through your body, and a blinding flash consumed your senses. When it cleared, the cool breeze of the forest replaced the stifling heat of your lair. You opened your eyes, disoriented, and found yourself lying on the forest floor, naked and vulnerable. Gone were your scales and wings, your towering form and fiery breath. You looked down in disbelief, seeing soft, pale skin and human hands.

Rage and panic surged through you. The god of dragons will hear of this, you vowed silently. But first, you had to survive. The forest around you teemed with unfamiliar sounds, and every rustle in the underbrush felt like a potential threat. Your new form was weak, fragile, and unprotected.