First thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78475385/
Part 2: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78533839
Part 3: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78583130/
Part 4: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78620743
Part 5: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78673520
Part 6: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78741798
Part 7: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/78798673
Part 8: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4766508
Part 9: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4801549
Part 10: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4864481
Part 11: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2021/4980716/
Part 12: (Forgot to archive it waaa)

And the New Discord Link: https://discord.gg/bjwNytCRYR

>”Chief archivist, overlord, master-” Sannet reverently uttered.
>His chief curator Sannet, knelt before him as a show of obeisance.
>”Solemnace rejoices at your return, lord-”
>Trazyn carried on past his curator, deeper into the gallery chamber.
>Sannet would rise and carry on behind him “A successful endeavor, my lord?”
>”A most successful endeavor indeed.” Trazyn chuckled.
>Trazyn triumphantly held up the familiar shape of a vermilion cube, a tesseract labyrinth.
>”A most SUCCESSFUL endeavor indeed” He repeated.

You are Maple Son-Mahogany, husband of one and mother of two.
Your husband is missing, and your children have been tortured, physically and psychically.

>WARNING: This is an unofficial, unacknowledged, downright despised spinoff of Dragon Ball Tuffle Quest. Familiarity with Tuffle Quest recommended but not required, however this spinoff will also feature topics such as bullying, abuse, self-harm, drug use, grief, suicidal ideation, grooming, violence, and rape.

https://youtu.be/1mkBL39qxm8

From what you've gathered from your daughter through some psychic probing of your own, you have a list of things to look into.

Your name is Fido Ballthrow. In a stroke of bad luck, you've found yourself stuck between a rock and hard place. Your sister (whom you abandoned years ago) has come to live with you after your mother murdered your father and went to prison, and she is... not very happy with you. Your girlfriend, Lily, whom you promised to spend the rest of your days with, is now angry that it will no longer be just you and her. And, of course, to make it all worse, in three days, the world will end, and you will be dead. It's times like this that you wonder what it is you did to deserve a life like this.
Previous threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=downerquest

Nestled in the heart of the known world lies the vast and diverse continent of Telurya, a land where many races live side by side, each with their own customs, cultures, and ideals. From the towering mountains of the north to the sprawling forests and plains of the south, Telurya is a place of both harmony and conflict, where ancient traditions clash with new ideas, and untold adventures await those brave enough to explore its depths.

The continent is divided by two major factions:

The Northerners
In the frozen wilderness of the north, a proud and fierce people known only as the Northerners have made their home. These beasts, who come in all shapes and sizes—ranging from towering, muscular creatures to more nimble, wolf-like beings—are known for their connection to the harsh land that shaped them. Their society is built around survival, strength, and honor, where the bond between tribe members is unbreakable. Whether they are formidable warriors, powerful shamans, or expert hunters, the Northerners rely on their innate connection to the land and the beasts that inhabit it. They are a nomadic people, their clans spread across the tundra and mountains, always on the move, always adapting. While their ways may seem primitive to outsiders, they hold a deep respect for nature and the spirits that govern the land.

The Southerners
In stark contrast, the Southerners represent the more traditional races of the world—humans, elves, dwarves, and halflings. These civilizations have flourished in the more temperate and fertile lands of the south, where agriculture, trade, and magical innovation thrive. The Southerners are known for their advanced cities, rich cultures, and often complex politics. While humans are the most numerous of the southern races, the elves and dwarves maintain ancient traditions, and the halflings are known for their charm and hospitality. The Southerners value knowledge, diplomacy, and the arts, and their societies are governed by a mixture of monarchy, council, and merchant influence. Though they live in relative peace, the competition for power between these races is fierce, and not all is as harmonious as it may seem.

The balance between these two factions has been a fragile one, and as tensions rise, the future of Telurya hangs in the balance. Will the Northerners push southward, bringing their savage strength to bear? Or will the Southerners find a way to coexist with the beastly tribes, or perhaps even unite against a greater threat?

Select a faction, a theme appropriate race and a biome. If you so desire, point out in the map where you want to start out.

does anyone have a hacker course from 0?
i am trying to learn how to be a hackerman, but i dont know where to start and i dont have any money.

"Children of the stars, are you there?"
SEARCHING (Stone in Focus (Aphex Twin cover)) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rAnS57JF1J0

[You are MORDRED and you have just finished taking a quick shower at the behest of Merrick the maid. It's not that you smell terrible, sweaty, or anything at all for that matter, but you do need a refresher once in a while. Physical and mental.

Your PJs are warm, well-fitted, and fresh-smelling. Your water cup is filled to the brim. Sleep is tempting, so very tempting, but you want to finish your current game of DISFORTUNA before you go to bed. Your big beef computer system is still humming and the game is still paused. You idly wonder how the bizarrely meta character PSYCHOMPOMP feels in this world of frozen time - probably somewhat musty in there.

You sit down, get comfy, and try to pick off from where you last stopped...]

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.

Summary: You are Ninety-Nine, a tyranid hybrid made to combat the tyranid

She had to stay strong. This level of isolation was nothing compared to the roaring flames of battle. Ninety-Nine avoided the people in the ship, though once a day she moved with the servitors and pretended to be one just to feel part of a brood. Ninety-Nine watched the servitors move inside a cramped hallway. The ground suddenly rumbled.

“Translating into real space.” The ship’s vox announced.

The ship’s interior pipes and walls creaked heavily. Ninety-Nine whipped her head left and right in panic. Suddenly, the sounds stopped. There was a pulse of silence before the ship’s quiet hum resumed. She shrugged and followed the servitors until they reached a wide space, where tech priests and skiitari gathered. Ninety-Nine climbed on top of a cogitator, then grabbed onto a pipe above, then skulked in the dark to find a way back into her room.

“Subject Ninety-Nine to the command deck. Subject Ninety-Nine to the command center.” The voxes set in many corners announced. “Subject Ninety-Nine to the command deck. Subject Ninety-Nine to the command deck.”

Thanks to following the servitors, Ninety-Nine knew the basic layout of the ship, enough to know the important locations filled with people so she could avoid them. First, Ninety-Nine returned to her room to retrieve her hooded robe, then arrived at the command deck.

<span class="mu-i">Gotta hide it, need to hide it…</span>

As she walked, Ninety-Nine tugged robes to cover her hands and her tail wrapped her waist. She was at the command deck, though she was not sure what she was supposed to do.

>Ninety-Nine looked for Faustinius
>Ninety-Nine looked for Inquisitor Greyfax
>Ninety-Nine approached the tall battle-master with metal tendrils on his back
>Ninety-Nine stayed where she was, she was in the command deck after all and no one told her where she was supposed to be specifically.

Thread 1
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6099832/

<span class="mu-s">It is a time of conflict.</span>

Driven by greed and by justice, by a righteous and sheer self-interest, by whatever else reasons conjured from the minds of men, a conflict has gripped the very soul of your world. It is a war that spans states and empires, battles fought seas apart for the name of the same cause. It's justifications are manyfold, it's goals even more so. In the end, there is but one certainty, and it is of the death that shall come. The lance is drawn, the sabres rattle, the memory of peace fades, leaving naught but the fog of war.

In this age, warfare has changed - long gone are the days of archers and catapults, replaced by the inaccurate yet powerful firearms and earth-shaking cannons of the modern era. Where there once were men wielding shields and swords there are now pikes and halberds, woven in tight unassailable formations once thought to be ancient history. Monumental walls of stone, once thought to be unassailable, are torn down as if they were made of straw, and in their place, earthen fortifications begin to rise. Though the might of the armed noble cavalier continues to hold it's place, for how long shall it last? Yes, war has changed, but in the end, men still die, cities still burn, and to the victors are left the spoils...

You are but one of the many officers of the many nations of the many fronts that span this war. You are no king nor emperor, no doge nor duke. You hold no lands save for a meagre county whose administration you no longer practice and whose visage you have long forgotten, so many years has it been since you last saw it. Your side and allegiance does not matter. You are the Field Captain of your Army, and for today, that is enough.

Your army, yes - what <span class="mu-i">**is**</span> your army?

Quest’s Summary: You play as Pangea, the daughter of The Emperor created to be an emotional support for the primarchs after Malcador convinced the Emperor that the primarchs, while powerful, are ultimately human. Pangea would act as a way to secure the primarch’s loyalty to The Emperor by having the primarchs relying on Pangea as their emotional support… if Pangea remains loyal that is.

As the sons of The Emperor return to the fold, Pangea created a bond with Alpharius, Horus, Fulgrim, Sanguinius and Angron. She still sees the future of Horus and her brothers’ betrayal but knows in her heart this is just one future, one that can be avoided. After bringing peace to Verona, she faces The Hermit, and eventually learns of Chaos.

With that knowledge, she is under Malcador’s tutelage once more to become the first inquisitor, to protect the budding Imperium and her Father’s dream.

People roamed the markets. Laborers carried crates of goods fresh off the ships. Merchants and customers haggled. Children held their mother’s hand as their eyes wandered from vendor to vendor. And the Princess stalked through the crowd, her gaze focused on a man with shaggy stubble and unkempt hair dressed in a tattered jumpsuit. She tapped into the man’s thought with ease, like entering an unguarded fortress.

<span class="mu-i">They’ll pay for what they did to House Capulet, this will be my vengeance!</span>

Pangea gently pushed through the crowd as she followed the man. She clicked her tongue twice, then paused, then clicked her tongue again. Luna broke from her side and skulked into the alleyway. Pangea parted the crowd quicker, using her psykic power to compel the people to move away.

<span class="mu-i">Verona, oh my beautiful homeland… I’ll take many as I can with me!</span>

Pangea stalked through the market in a hooded robe. The man approached the Albian Crusaders closer. Pangea tasted the man’s rage and disgust. In lieu of more offensive capabilities, she sharpened the subtler psykic powers. The Albian Crusaders continued to be vigilant about the goings on in the market, but were still unaware of one single man amongst the many.

<span class="mu-i">This is for the Capulets and the Great Hermit!</span>

Pangea…

>Waited for the attack. The man pulled his pistol and grenades, but no destruction followed. Instead, the man’s limb froze up. Pangea held the man with her telekinesis. The man screamed in pain, loud enough to grab the attention of the Albian Crusaders and her presence.
>With her divination, she moved in before the man could act. Pangea jumped past the crowds and landed right in front of the man as he pulled two grenades. With a single twirl of Palatine, the grenade and the man’s hand dropped on the ground.
>Write-in