Currently. You are and always will be. The light of my life. The escape begins. Ur objective is to escape.

Last time, you came to an International Hotel for no good reason, there you met with a bride planning to escape her wedding. Out of the goodness of your heart, your group decided to lend her a hand. In doing so, you got tangled into helping the groom pass the wedding off as legitimate, or else it’d be doom for everyone involved. High stakes all around.

At the moment, after swapping clothes with Matilda, you’re helping the bride and her suitcase (sister?) escape the building and move to the next part of their plan! You have everything figured out except this bit.

“There, you’re done!” You exclaim after you two ended up helping Matilda wear the dress. It’s a little loose, and it’s hanging low, but she looks great for what it is. Bridetilda is ready!

“I didn’t know how annoying it was to put this type of dress on...” Matilda is just wearing the relevant parts, but it took a bit. She’s a known cosplayer (to You!), so you thought it wouldn’t be an issue.

“Better not forget, because I’m sure it won’t be the last time.” Mat-nastasia pokes the fit girl’s nose. She has become flirty with both of you ever since she wiped her tears away.

“We’re leaving, right?!” The Talking Luggage has hope of seeing the outside world again.

“Mhm, we’re going to Angel Ando’s residency to meet his friend, and become proud Prancijanians.” Anastasia recalls the plan for her sister. She’s meeting Craig, to meet Sewel, to get the fake IDs since they won’t leave the country, because the money they have is in Gor$. Which brings you to...

“Before that, we need to figure out how to conceal the money.” Matilda pulls out a large briefcase that was hidden within the dress. It’s… a tacky thing. It has a big dumb Gor$ sign and sparkles with glitter. Ugolino handed it over to her this morning, and well, weddings are hectic. The fact she’s alone here is a miracle of her own creation, and time is of the essence. “I don’t believe they’re going to miss these bedsheets.” Matilda takes them from the bed. “And let’s put everything into a trash bag.” She’s being extra cautious. Not the most refined of ideas, but it’ll work. You assume.

Anastasia handed over her room’s card key. You need to figure out the logistics for the plan. Your priorities are to help Anastasia and her sister, keep the money with them, and not to ruin the dress for the second part of your plan.

<span class="mu-s">What do you do?</span>

>Take Matilda to Ugolino’s room with the dress. Then take Anastasia and her luggage to the nearest Cab.
>Matilda stays. Wilma and Ms. Cooldown come over. Someone has to tell Ugolino he’s off the wedding.
>You all go to find the taxi, then you and Matilda return to Ugolino’s room after. Don’t overcomplicate things.
>Write In.

<span class="mu-s">Will you turn invisible? [SP:30]</span>

>Duh. Why run the risk?
>No! Anastasia shouldn’t known about Super Powers! You’ll manage!
>Write In.

Everything feels off today. That's the feeling my waking mind reacts to as I exit dreamland. I can see the sun shinning immediately into my barely open eyes. As always it goes fuck this and commands my hands to reach out and pull over the blanket that had somehow slipped under my head. Only for it to grab nothing but my t-shirt.

Awareness starts to hit me. My back imediately starts groaning that the bed is far less comfortable for some reason. I feel around and no, I don't even have a mattress anymore.
More willing than ever before I sit up from whatever the hell I'm on. "What the..fuck!" Somehow I find myself not in my room or anything that resembles my home. The place was to put it politely some sort of cramped medieval apartment. That's the best I can describe the place, lacking in doors or appliances. I can barely spy what looks to be a sink deeper inside.
Where the hell was I? Certainly not home, or somehow transported into Skyrim or something. The place didn't look like some peasant hut that's for sure. It was alien but familiar enough to not be from another planet. My mind jumps to immediately rushing out of here or searching around my new prison...agh, but that light!
Wait, light. The outside. I don't need to go out anywhere first! I turn around and shove myself over to the window side, l pull myself up to look out as the hot sun hits my face.
Only to see not a prison yard or a zoo. But an entire village of strange houses. That partly answers that.

Wetting your lips, you once more take stock of your audience, scrutinizing their features. The eyes of these children watch you expectantly, waiting for you to offer them a glimpse of a world that they could only imagine. It is true, that you are strange to them; that much you have already acknowledged. Yet the gravity of your position becomes apparent to you only as you wrack your brain in search of a suitable subject to speak at length of.

You, Jezyrene Delyl, are the sole link between the culture of your people and these impressionable little ones. Raised isolated from their kindred in the Underdark and deprived of the teachings of their ancestors, they are surfacers in all but appearance. These unforeseen circumstances evoke an unusual sensation that radiates out from your chest, a burning need to remedy this error.

"Once, tens of thousands of years ago, when dragons still ruled the Realms, our people came to this world from another and made our home here. We found a place in a far-off land and built a country for ourselves, the ancient realm of Ilythiir," you begin, drawing upon the education that you received in centuries past. "This is why the true name of our people is the Ilythiiri."

You wake up with a throbbing head and a funny taste in your mouth.

It takes your eyes a moment to get adjusted to the darkness of the unfamiliar surroundings. The only motes of light come from fungi on the walls, dimly glowing lichens that give the unlit masonry the look of a starlit sky, if you squint hard enough. Just enough light to see the contours of hewn stone stacked up to make the walls and ceiling, held together by their weight more than any mortar or cement. Barely enough to make sense of your surroundings, but that might be for the best.

Your nose can pick up the dour stench of rotting corpses that hangs beneath the must of a mossy cavern. Drips of water into a pool ring out like a distance chime. The air feels still, weighing down upon you like a heavy blanket that refuses to let you stir.

The cold makes you shiver. The shivers return feeling to your numb body, and with feeling comes a soreness that seeps past every muscle and into the marrow of your bones. Your arms, your legs, your head most of all, the soreness brings a pain to every inch of your body that nearly makes you cry. To say nothing of your more delicate and womanly places; your bosom feels as though it's been savaged by a tiger, and the less you say about what you feel below the belt, the better.

You swallow dryly, and shudder at the taste.

Perhaps it's for the best that you don't know where it came from. Perhaps it's for the best that you don't remember how you got here, nor why you've not a stitch of clothing on your person, nor exactly how every inch of you - inside and out - became so terribly sore. Best to put such thoughts to the back of your mind, where they cannot bother you until you're safe enough to let it all out. You went beyond the Wardenstones to pick medicinal herbs, and you now know why the elders always warned you not to, that is all.

Yes, that is all. Consequences for girlish foolishness and ignoring the wisdom of the elders. You can live with a few consequences for your stupidity, you're a woman grown. Those thoughts steel you enough to let you pull yourself out from the shelter of an overturned cart, and pick at the corpses of your captors. (Roll 1d100)
>Kobolds. Lowest danger zone, worst equipment.
>Goblins. Low danger zone, poor equipment.
>Duergar. Moderate danger zone, good equipment.
>Drow. High danger zone, excellent equipment.
>Illithid. Extreme danger zone, best equipment.

After taking the best of what you can find from corpses, you realize that your captors left you with a gift that will be very difficult for your to remove.
>A slave collar wrapped around your neck.
>Piercings in strange and delicate places.
>A brand of ownership beneath your navel.

>PREVIOUS THREAD!

https://boards.4chan.org/qst/thread/6002748#bottom

>Team info will be kept here
https://text.is/QY4NK

>Spaghetti points are used for all sorts of boons and special usages for options in dialog and battle. But they also affect dice checks and other things. So earn em but spend them when you can!
Current Spaghetti level is 6

Amon G. Sus was a homeless pokemon trainer of 13 years of age. He won a local tournament in Castelia City and managed to win a 2 month all expenses paid trip to Alola! After a long struggle to get to Alola you've met an interesting fate for arriving. You've met the oddball trainer Stars who has called you his "pupil" and taken an interest in you. You met some "Kahuna" named Nanu who seems to a bit more then he's saying about the former. And you've met the Unova Champion Hilda and a chance encounter turned carnal has struck you with a case of "what do I even do now?"...Back to the story

You get out of bed. Feeling stronger now. But also light headed. Was last night real? You look at your Pokemon playing about. You have no idea what to do next. The clock says 12 pm.

>Go out and get some food
>Write in

You don't need to look at the time to realize the World you knew ended long ago. Just stare into the barren, snow-coated horizons showered by white blizzards, where pollinated currents permeate in between like ominous tendrils looking for something — anything to lay their accursed touch on. To make matters worse, there is not a single soul in sight, save for the frozen bodies that lay dormant under the barren fields, slowly enveloped by the all-reaching roots craving for sweet, reddish nectar. Maybe it's better this way, risking coming face to face with another "Living" One would be the last thing you'd wish for in this quiet hell.

Before everything went fubar, you recall the news spread by broadcast towers on that frantic day, congratulating some team of scientists for successfully cultivating Flora to become more efficient, stronger, and adaptable amidst the rapidly worsening climate of industrial society. Only, they had no idea of the sprawling behemoth they were about to transform nature into.

The nuclear winter landed hours after the Spread occurred, but even so, it was too late to completely erase The Rosebed. Rather, thanks to its many genetic improvements, and a considerable lack of humans to hinder its efforts, flower-based lifeforms expanded even further, being quick to affirm their infant organisms as the apex predators of this new world, and to relentlessly pursue those who still aren't one with its blossoming petals...

<span class="mu-r">[This quest features ReptoidQM and other QMs as characters. We are going to play the d20 module "Adelie 14" set in Antarctica.]</span>

You are Thaamarai Naidu, better known by your online alias, "ReptoidQM". Following a tumultuous divorce, you found yourself with an abundance of free time and a need to rediscover your purpose. You initially turned to running RPGs, but the organizational challenges proved too much. Instead, you found enjoyment in writing quests. Your unique, erotic stories quickly gained a following, often delving into themes of "love hurts," race mixing, humiliation, and threesomes. Writing became your way of healing and reconstructing your identity, ensuring that you would never be vulnerable to romantic pain again.

Despite the darkness, your life holds some bright spots. Through the writing community on 4chan, you formed a few close friendships. One of these friends is Siraphong, "SchizoQM", who sent you a pet monkey named "Bananas" from the jungles of Thailand. Despite Siraphong's claim that the monkey is a story writer sounding bizarre, Bananas has proven to be a loyal and intelligent companion, often sitting on your lap as you write and bringing joy with his playful antics.

Another friend, Langit, known online as "Indonesian Gentleman", is a talented artist who has illustrated some of your stories. In 2022, he stumbled upon an /x/ thread detailing remote viewing techniques. Initially dismissive due to his staunch skepticism of the paranormal, Langit decided to try it out. He found, much to his surprise, that he had a natural talent for it. Together, you, Langit, Siraphong, and a few others practiced the skill extensively, eventually mastering it.

This newfound ability led you down a transformative path. By mastering remote viewing, you learned to peer into the hearts of others, discerning their deepest secrets and manipulating their emotions. Channeling your desires and sensuality, you became a glamourist, a seductive succubus who could effortlessly charm and influence anyone you encountered. This transformation brought you immense confidence, making you a masterful dancer, liar, and social manipulator. Now, you thrive on the thrill of deceit and seduction, a dopamine addict constantly seeking your next high. This is taken from Ismena Rosgard’s description >>4999767, a character created by ReptoidQM.

What type of lingerie are you wearing?
>Write in

<span class="mu-r">[This is just an ice-breaker question. Choosing very seductive lingerie will grant a +1 circumstantial bonus on your next Charm check.]</span>

<span class="mu-r">[In this Session 0, feel free to share your triggers to ensure a safe experience for everyone. Also, you may discuss your hopes for the quest’s direction. If you feel that ReptoidQM or any other character has been misgendered or mischaracterized, please let me know, and I will make the necessary corrections.]</span>

I wanna find out everything about my friend, from people he's fucked and countries he's been to, to how many cigs he's smoked, etc. His full name is El-Motaz Bellah Hefny Othman Hefny

<span class="mu-g">Part 5 has successfully loaded!</span>

<span class="mu-s">Character sheets, shopping lists, and more:</span> https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1V0eqo-5JEuUwZ-AODD9jkxGMwEhkvn77?usp=sharing
<span class="mu-i">Archive:</span> https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Lodestar:%20Dawn%20of%20a%20New%20Age

Last time, we took control of Captain Ramza Valentine as he navigated the social structures of a Gaoth Raidship. Having joined them on a successful hunt that ended in the execution of every single black pirate serving aboard Captain Lore's ship, the sickened Ramza was invited to join in post-mission celebrations aboard the Skyseer by Captain Jaghatai. There, he learned the finer points of one of the games native to Gaoth, purchased a handcrafted Concertina from one of the soldiers playing music for the party, and ended the celebrations by getting blackout drunk to forget the ruthless slaughter he'd seen just hours ago. Upon waking up, he was back upon his ship with the Skyseer nowhere to be seen, and Aito's own ship was fixed up enough to set sail once more.

Once he was on his way back towards Threespice, he encountered a True Dragon inhabiting the icefields that seems to have been responsible for hunting the local monster population, and attempted to entice it closer to the ship to harvest one of its valuable parts without having to hunt it. He saw minor success in that he was able to acquire some of its hairs that snagged on the ship, but more valuable was perhaps the demonstration of the curious creature as it emulated the function of Ramza's mageblade without needing one of its own - one disconnected from its body, as well.

As we resume our adventures, the crew had just arrived at Threespice once more. There's no time to rest, however, as Ramza has a plan for the next immediate course of action: finally acting upon that Recruitment plan that Lobo gave him and filling up your roster of men, as you have three entire ships to see to now. There is only question that remains...who will we be playing today?

>Ramza Valentine. You're cocky, charming, and killer with a Mageblade.
>Val Lasombra. You're great with magic, but even better with a pistol. Not one for words, you think actions speak much louder.
>Gigas. You've yet to meet anyone that can best you physically, or resist your infectious cheer.