The bunny holding a flower is key to the vision quest.
There is no spoiler in the image but the show is cancelled.

The stars blur past you as you make a tight turn around a barren moon. Your ship, the Viper Strike, hums with the familiar sound of its powerful engines, the vibrations running through your hands as you grip the controls. Your HUD flickers, updating the mission log: Locate General Raxos Valen and neutralize the threat.

But something doesn’t feel right. Your sensors ping, picking up an unusual anomaly just beyond the asteroid field ahead—something's off. There’s a faint distress signal, masked by an interference wave. It's not on any of the known frequencies and definitely not part of the bounty.

Curiosity gnaws at you. You've spent enough time navigating the underbelly of the galaxy to know when something doesn’t add up. This signal—it's too deliberate, too hidden. Whoever sent it didn’t want anyone to find it, and that’s exactly why you’re headed toward it now.

The stars ahead shimmer with a strange intensity, and as you glide into the uncharted nebula, you spot a debris field. Wreckage from what appears to be an abandoned research station. But there's no sign of Valen or his fleet.

Only more questions. You bring the Viper Strike in for a closer look, weaving between scattered metal pieces as the ship’s sensors try to lock onto the distress beacon. The signal grows stronger, pulling you further into the depths of space.

Suddenly, a new message flashes across your console:

“If you’re reading this, it’s already too late. The Core is real. Valen must not find it. You are the only one who can stop him.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The Core. You’ve heard rumors, old whispers about a powerful artifact capable of manipulating space and time. You didn’t think it was more than myth.

But now, you're not so sure.

What will you do next?

> Investigate the wreckage: You approach the research station's wreckage to search for more clues, hoping to find some information that will explain the message.
> Follow the distress signal: You decide to track the source of the signal, heading deeper into the nebula, despite the risks of what you might encounter.
> Contact your employer: You send a quick message to your employer, updating them on the situation and asking for advice on how to handle the new developments.
> Exit the nebula: Something feels off. You can leave now, heading toward the bounty’s original target and avoiding whatever lies in the nebula.
> Activate stealth mode: You engage the ship’s stealth systems, preparing to quietly monitor the area without drawing attention to yourself.
> Write in

Previous Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%202nd%20Primarch%20Quest
_

You click your tongue, and clasp your hands behind your back, temporarily forsaking the hunched posture you had adopted to lift up your head and breath deeply the corroded air thick with industrial pollutants and the faint whispers of burning ozone.

"Old stories are true" You explains somberly as you readjust and return to hunching as is the natural stance of the Alf-Harim "Humanity is real; Returned"

"Hoomahnaty?" The alf harim blinks slowly, forked tongue flicking out of their lips, parting the tongues of smoke rising from their last pull of their smoking leaf "Must hear, old, ancient stories in big clan house, yes yes? What is?"

You smile and bow your head in their direction, and whisper nearly conspiratorially

"Alien race, ancient, far flung, much scattered" you explain swiftly, flicking a single finger's illusionary claw in front of his snout as his eyes trace it with all the instinctive caution of a prey animal "Some good, others not. Mothers met good humans, humans heard plight, heard wish to return to warm sands"

"Selling habitat? trading electrical banks? Move work to mine world?" They ask rapidly, scratching at their snout, flacking away blue chips of pigment from their scales as they press you for answers. You hold up a hand and the tail of your guise, stopping him before he can present you with more wild theories and guesses

"Listen. Human spoke to matriarchs, snuck in, careful careful. Saw him. Gave me this" You say, pulling a extra copy of the translated journey from within the thread bear and oil stained robes of your alf-harim disguise and hold it up to the querying eyes of the smoker

"What is?" They ask impatiently, as their hands shoot out and take the book as you make it clear you're offering it to them "Doesn't explain what is happening"

"Might have something to do with that heavy book" You suggest with a whip crack of your tail, a gesture thought of as roguish to the Alf-Harim "Saw them, mighty, powerful, tricky?"

"Slave taken?" They ask and you snap your teeth and hiss through them

"No. Tricky, friendly, hopefully" You continue as they pull the book closer to their chest and flip open the first page of the journey, revealing intricate and detailed drawings of alf-harim beside the text, performing gestures and displaying stances to present what would other wise be lost in translation, an effort that is helped by the scents you incorporated into the very ink staining the parchment, mimicking the Alf-Harim's partially scent based language

"Then?" They ask as their eyes greedily devour the text before them, flicking back and forth as they gather all of the words before them and frantically work to piece them together as quickly as their physiology allows
Cont

Previously on With Great Power Quest: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=With%20Great%20Power%20Quest
and Rites of the Red Wizard Quest: https://archived.moe/qst/thread/5043544/#q5045606

I'm walking to the bus stop thinking how fucked my life had become since moving to Chicago, and how incredible it was too. I'd lost my mom, I'd seen things no one should ever see, I'd done things no one ought be able to do. I had a target on my back with the worst, most vile human beings in the world coming after me. And there was a weight on me, some kind of, I dunno, 'destiny' I only half understood threatening to crush me under it.

But there was also love like I'd never known existed. Ivy and Ayesha, who were too much for simple words to describe, but not just love like that, there were my friends too. Fire-Watch, my classmates, all the strangers who'd become friends and allies since I'd pulled on a mask to stop a shotgun totting psycho from blowing a whole in one of the prettiest girls I'd ever met. The indescribable joy of slipping off gravity's grasp and lift up into the clear blue sky with the inevitable, exhilarating plunge back to earth coming after it.

A life split down the middle. How could give it up?

One thing I needed right now, a shower and a change of clothes. I might be late to school but I wasn't going to skip, not for no good reason. I fired off a text to Dad, promising we'd talk tonight. We'd been fighting and a day later after so much horror it all felt a little stupid. He deserved to be happy, and deserved my support. He was expecting a kid with a good woman.

My step-mother. Thinking of Miss Flores like that was too weird, not least because I'd crushed on her pretty hard when I'd first started in her class. Didn't need the 'Family Therapy' vibes.

It was a couple transfers to get home. I'd be racing the bell for gym class.

I got in, got changed, got out.

Which reminded me. I needed to get my jacket back from Ayane.

Halfway to school I got a text. Remix. One word: Bingo.

Ok. That was important. Then another from Ms Grant: Need to talk. Water Tower. Tonight.

That was just as important. Fuck.

Whatever either one was, they'd have to wait until after school.

>Arrange to visit Remix at the Farm
>Arrange the meet with Ms Grant

Hello again!

Last time we were here, you reached the wizard, and officially locked in the half-dragon form. No more mutations, no long do you have a strange, gangly form. Instead, you are simply something... a little stronger than the average human. Your companions have also decided to try out a few different forms. The twins and William, for instance, are human now, while Paracelsus has folloed you in being a Dragnborn.
Snikt... She will be a full-on dragon, when she emerges. You can only hope it goes well.

More pressingly... Onyx is on his way. The eldest of the dragons, and likely the main reason that dragons have such a stick up their collective asses, if you can be funny about it for a moment. You can't, really.
He is going to wreak havoc on the land here, and it's up to you to find a way to kill it. You likely only have days.
================
While it's quite obvious Pink doesn't like the people she knows and loves turning themselves more human... This is something that she will learn to live with, in time. Especially considering you expect quite a few of these transformations might not be permanent. William sure didn't seem convinced.
"You feel about someone becoming a human the way I feel about someone becoming a dragon. I get it. Give them a chance, though, Pink. For me?"
Pink stares at you... And shakes her head.
"I love them, still. Even if they make mistakes. Even if they choose to be ugly apes."
She hops off the chair, and you give her a little bit of room.
"I'll... give you some space, okay? I've got to go talk to a few people, I suspect. We need to prepare for Onyx."

Pink stops.
"Onyx... The biggest dragon of them all. We will... Kill him?"
"I sure as hell intend to."
"If you do so..." Pink says, stopping. "If... If you can kill the eldest dragon. I..."
She forces a smile.
"You will be the ultimate dragon. No matter how much you limit yourself, that will be an undeniable fact."
Well, if that's all... Nothing too new there, you suppose. That said, you feel there is something else to what she's saying. Your silence was enough of a question, however, as she turns to you.
"Dragons are as Onyx made them. His spawn, and the others. Once he is gone... They might be a bit more like you."

Oh. But on the other hand.

"And if somebody else kills him?"
Pink smiles. You suppose it's foolish to ask questions you know the answers to. It also means that you need to be careful. In fact...
Does the court mage know?

This makes this altogether more complicated, unfortunately. But you need to prepare. You have the armies of this country at your side. Your friends, as well.
With the sheer power of magic, perhaps you could even gather people from your own country, as well. But the more people there are, the greater the risk that they will be the ones to affect the dragons.
Though, to be fair...
ANYTHING is better than Onyx.

For centuries, in the cradle of civilization, the faith of man has been rocked back and forth like the salty tides of the Red Sea.

Once the Gods of the Old Age allowed themselves to be conquered by modern kings, mankind found itself without purpose or direction. Soon, mankind realized they were yearning for supernatural intervention.

Minor Gods arose from man's abundant faith and began to learn to enforce their divine will as belief in them grew. In their nascent state, the Gods do not yet have the power to directly speak or show themselves to mankind, yet they still find ways to lead new believers to their Domain and Commandments. Which Gods will be elevated into the Pantheon of this New Age?

In this quest, each player takes on the role of a God, and attempts to expand their supernatural reach. Players can join at any time!

Create your God!
>Name
>Domain
>Appearance
>Commandments

The year is 1374 DR. Sixteen years have passed since the Time of Troubles, when the gods were made humble, and forced to wander the Realms as mortals. With the ascension of the mad god Cyric, Prince of Lies, and the recent return of the tyrant god Bane, Lord of Darkness, the future of Faerûn seems increasingly uncertain. It falls to bold individuals who possess an abundance of cunning, might, and determination to shape the future... should they be up to the challenge.

Fitting the cart upon which the alchemist's womb rests through the portal leading into the High Sorcerer's tower proves a laborious task. Mustering the strength of every sinew of muscle in your body, you manage to force the blasted thing through the other end with a mighty heave. Exerting yourself to guarantee that your precious cargo gradually comes to rest in a stable position, you take in a lungful of the supernaturally clear spire air and shut your eyes, enjoying a brief respite before ascending the spiral staircase leading to the pentagonal main chamber.

Opposite to you is the overlarge bookshelf. Once packed from end-to-end with esoteric literature, a veritable army of what you reason to be invisible hands work tirelessly to pack away each work inside of a trunk. The sheer volume of books stored away inside leads you to conclude that the interior is larger than the exterior would suggest - a common feature of magical containers, although the mechanics of this function elude you.

In the dawn of civilization, where humanity takes its first faltering steps toward order and progress, you rise from the mists of obscurity, a being of unparalleled might and mystery. You are no mere mortal—your very presence inspires awe and terror. Whether born from ancient magic, forged in the fires of the earth, or summoned by forces beyond comprehension, your power eclipses that of the common folk like a blazing sun outshines the stars.

The villages are fragile and disorganized, their people too preoccupied with survival to dream of greatness. They huddle together, building simple shelters, planting meager crops, and whispering fearful prayers to spirits they cannot see. Yet you stand apart, your strength undeniable, your potential limitless.

The world itself seems to acknowledge your presence. The earth trembles beneath your steps, storms gather at your command, and the faint-hearted flee before your shadow. You see the cracks in the fragile order of early society, and you realize this nascent world is a blank slate—a canvas on which you can paint your legacy.

Why should you bow to the whims of lesser beings? With your gifts, you could forge an empire, become a deity in the eyes of mortals, or bend their fledgling societies to your will. Whether you will rule with wisdom and justice, reshape the world in your vision, or crush all who oppose you beneath your heel, the choice is yours.

But power does not come without its burdens. For all your strength, there is something within or around you that holds you back—a curse, a flaw, or a challenge that even you must face. This weakness, small as it may seem now, has the potential to unravel your plans if left unchecked.

The world is yours to command, but greatness comes with a price. What will yours be?

Past Thread: >>6083581
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Missval
General Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/5hFQZtc3
Character Sheet (As of the end of Thread #4): https://pastebin.com/xA4G6LMk
Twitter/X account for important announcements, contact and stuff. https://x.com/MissvalQM

Your name is Shelly Suzume. You are an ex-huntress—at least, you think so. It’s complicated. A lot has happened over the last few weeks. You’ve discovered a conspiracy that may be affecting the entire kingdom of Mistral, you may have a lead on what’s happening with your mental condition, and last but not least, you’ve joined the White Fang.

Yeah, you know how wrong it sounds. They’re a vicious group and all of that, but it’s not like you’re a formal member. It’s more like you’re hanging out with them, helping with tasks now and then, living with them, and helping the new recruits by teaching them some self-defense.

Now that you think about it, perhaps saying that you’re not a part of them may be just coping. But it’s not like you did it out of hatred for humans or anything. It was all because of the circumstances. There are some genuinely good people among them, and they are helping you with your investigation in return. You help them, they help you. And your hands are still mostly clean. It’s not like you’ve started robbing people, assaulting convoys, or taking hostages…

Maybe joining was a bad idea. You’re starting to have doubts. Is this truly the right path for you? Well, you’re not really that tied to them, and you don’t owe them anything. You can easily walk away whenever you want. You’ll stay in touch until it stops being beneficial to you, maybe. Gods, this is stressful. Maybe you shouldn’t think about it too much.

-----

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.

Your interrogation of Astu of Laughing Skull Clan had proven to be useful. You had learned that he was a messenger between Grom Hellscream and Thrall, but out of want to uphold your honour you didn’t pry into the messages he was carrying. But what made the interrogation really useful was what happened after it. Pai the Assassin had eavesdropped you and Eligius talking and had heard nearly all the details. In her want to get away from The Syndicate, she easily lockpicked her way out of the cell and gave you a proposition. She would deliver the messages and stay hiding with the Frostwolf Clan.

But she also revealed something more important, something you have to act upon. Pai told you that you have a little sister Alicia Perenolde and that she is being held by Lord Creedy of The Syndicate as a royal hostage. And so you hatched a plan. Pai and your spymaster Eligius with the help of Sir Cyrus, Otto Wanz and Bill Rover, would venture into Alterac, rescue Alicia Perenolde and try to assassinate Lord Creedy. While Pai was delivering the message to the Frostwolves, Eligius would prepare the rest of the mission. And while you were out campaigning, that mission would be launched.

And now you are in Durnholde Keep taking the last few steps before the combined force of humans march into war against the gnolls. With Lord Colonel Garithos again having lost his temper and having embarrassed himself, you claimed the command of the campaign without much opposition.

The success of this campaign and the fate of hundreds of men was now on your shoulders.

Welcome to Alterac Resurgent Quest!

…

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