You are a powerful magician who was once an adventurer. After amassing a large fortune, you recently finished building a tower near a small village. Now is the time for you to begin your research, whatever you're interested in researching.

Select race of your villagers.

Select name, gender and type of magic of your magician (can be any element or combination of elements)

Select one unique perk for your magician (could be special backstory, an unusual ally, membership in a strange society, a powerful artifact, etc)

Pick Race

>Orc

>Goblin

>Troll

>Bugbear

>Cyclopes

Pick Location

>Mountains

>Plains

>Forest

>Coast

Welcome to the Cygnus Sector, officer! Always good to see new people fresh from the Star Academy! I went there myself, you know?

I'm sure you read the mission briefing. Here in the Cygnus sector, we are battling the K'tharr, an advanced alien race. Capturing their ships for analysis is what every officer dreams to do. Unfortunatelly, simply surviving an encounter with them is already a challenge.

I'm not going to put you in the direct contact line just now. It is time you start commanding more than just training vessels and simulators. You'll get your very own fleet!

Of course, it comes with some managerial work. But you sure are prepared for that, from the Academy.

The Eagle Alpha Spaceyard (EASY) constructs corvettes and frigates for the war effort. Your starter budget for your fleet is ten million credits. That should be enough for a few decent ships.


Your mission is to Secure a mining colony output. There have been pirate attacks lately. They tend to attack near the dates when we send the compressed ore back for refining. This day is approaching, so your fleet shall escort the ships coming back with the cargo. You'll rendezvous with Colonel Frank, who is overseeing the mining operations.

Good Luck, Captain!

Sitting at Alvor's table and munching on a piece of bread, you mull over your situation for what must be the hundredth time this week. Sigrid, Alvor's wife, has been giving you the stink eye for the last couple of days, assuaged a little by the hours you've been putting in at the mill to earn some septims. You've overheard her argue with Alvor at night in their own language (which you guess is Nordic), in which you've heard your name spoken aloud a few times--and not with affection. You tear off another chunk of bread. You could murder a quater-pounder with cheese right about now, but meat is apparently the food of kings around these parts. Even so, you're getting tired of cabbage and leek soup.

"No work at the mill today?" asks Sigrid pointedly.

You shake your head and swallow. "Log jam. Hod's taking a look. Should be fixed soon." You know she means well. She was the one that nursed you back to health when you washed up at the riverbank. She had even spent some of her own savings to buy you a health potion from Lucan--if not for that, you might have died from the injuries. But, at the same time, hospitality has its limits. Her husband's a blacksmith, which means they're not exactly starving but an extra mouth to feed is never really welcome, especially one that's been so vague about where it came from and why. And so, you've been planning to move on, except every time you think about what's happened, how you got here, and what it all means, and especially what might have happened to Lem, you have a panic attack.

But anyway, here are the facts as far as you understand them:
One: Skyrim, for some reason, is real and you somehow washed up here (in Riverwood to be exact) after the kayak accident. You haven't seen Lem, your best friend, yet. Chances are he didn't make it.
Two: This version of Skyrim is nothing like the game. It's an actual world, not a computer program. There aren't stats, levels, skill points. There's no NPCs. Almost nothing is abstracted like it is in the game. The other day you tried picking some red flowers down by the river. In the game you just point and press a button and the flowers are in your inventory. Here, you actually have to pick them one by one, and you have to be careful not to damage the plant or cut yourself on the thorns. The locations and the places are still the same, there's Riverwood, and you've heard about Whiterun and even Bleak Falls Barrow from Lucan, but if Riverwood is anything to go by, those places should be much bigger and more complex than they were in the game.
Three: The dragons haven't shown up yet. There is a civil war going on between the Imperial Legion and the Stormcloaks as in the game, but when you asked about the dragons, Alvor just looked puzzled and started talking about the Throat of the World and the Greybeards.


1/2

You are James Underwood the Younger, and you are about to kill a man. You've never done that before. Not that it would be difficult, said man is pinned to the ground and already dying. Courtesy of James Underwood the Elder, your father. A ninety-four year old man, who calmly had you drive him into Mendig's northern projects to linger in a dark alleyway and wait behind a rancid garbage bin for this man to draw near. At which point he simply got up, strode out into the open, and drove a knife into the man. Once, in the back, then once again into his front after he fell. Puncturing the lungs to prevent him screaming, you figure.

Your father...Dad, was always an imposing figure in your life. A former soldier who never raised his voice and never needed to to get either his son or an entire room of suits to listen. You never got a full picture of what he did for Jefferson, even after the latter's fall, but there was a reason he did not oppose your wish to climb the company's ladder without his influence. Even then, he was trying to shield you. You were in your early twenties, but still a little boy to him. That hasn't changed, especially after Mom died. You sometimes compare yourself to those of his generation, who lived and fought in the war, knew the Rebuilding and golden years that followed. A tougher breed than yours, for sure. Dad never cared. You think he was just happy his only child would not know what he did. And now you are about to step into a war, a deadly game, though hopefully as a player and not an ignorant, unwitting pawn.

Dad is scared. The idea fills you with unease. This man fears not pain nor death, and yet he is afraid now. Scared of what is to come, scared that he is not strong enough to protect you. Of course, how could he, he's a dying old man, the thought still echoes in your head. Well, truly that is where your troubles begin.

A few months ago, Dad discovered something. He didn't tell you how, but he apparently found strange floating stones that no one else could see. They gave him power, unnatural abilities, a small part of his youth back, and the ability to get more. From what he knows, these stones are only found dormant in certain people who have taken another's life. Even fewer still may gain these stones, alongside the ability to use them, when killing the killer. You get the feeling Dad isn't telling you everything. But since he calls them blood stones, he figures that those of his blood may also be like him, able to use them.

So, this goes first you type what we would what (can be anything. literally from a wizard in a world made of weed where you dungeon endlessly or that you are a literal rock.) After that we decide what goes next
FIRST COME FIRST SERVE
if you are unsure of what to do look at the OP post

FIRST COME FIRST SERVE ALWAYS

hello, can someone of u pls hack my mail cause im trying to play one game but i forgot the pass and i also cant reset it because i losed this mail, i cant prove thats my mail but u can check that this mail is not conected to any of social media. the mail [email protected]

“Honestly, I could name a thousand reasons: I don’t like Prometheus, and I don’t trust him to mold me like a piece of clay. I’m not you, and I don’t want to be— hell, I don’t think I’d even <span class="mu-i">deserve</span> to be.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“There’s only one person in the world I’d want to trust my soul with,” you interrupt, “And it isn’t your dead boyfriend. I have things I worked hard for that I want to keep, people who I really want to stay dead, and I owe a debt of gratitude to the Architect for giving me this opportunity in the first place. I like power, I like having more than other people, but, more than anything…

I want to be free, and I want to be myself. If that means I don’t get to be happy, then, fuck it, who even needs to be? I have a <span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">more powerful impetus</span></span>.”

You spread your arms wide, the fake soul of the fake you conjured by the Grand Art creaking and chipping beneath the pressure exerted by your real might, crimson light pouring through the breaks like water from the cracks in a porcelain vase. Arms painfully burst from your back, skin tearing and blood pouring out from the ruins of your tattered sweater. The limbs flex their freshly minted muscle, caressing the soft, tender pink skin, newborn, almost infantile despite their long, sinister build, You topple forward for a moment the weight cracking your spine under its crushing weight until your body reorganizes itself, reinforcing and regenerating shattered bone and torn sinew with metal and divinity, your skeleton shivering and popping as your new anatomy settles into place.

“...I see. Well, it was a free choice, a true choice, so a number of possibilities exist. I guess this just happens to be one where things turned out wrong.”

“You’re too vertical, both of you,” you sneer, “Your world is dead. The man who killed himself was someone you never knew, and he died for someone he never met. As far as I’m concerned, all of those “what if”s are only as real as any other predictive model. A glorified simulation, really. Well, if it’s any consolation, I believe your wish to have been granted before you ever made it: you have never been me, and you never will be.”

The other you remains silent, but you press on, the constructed world tearing away as your Impetus overrides the Grand Art, its caster no longer present to protect it from your will. Your body lifts into the air, scarlet fetters burst from your fingertips, slowly taking the qualities of the Sunset, first hard to notice, vermillion and magenta, then, less subtle, gold, lilac, blue, white, black. The chains bind to the fabric of the incomplete reality itself, each wild movement of your arms tearing out another piece.

https://starwarsintrocreator.kassellabs.io/#!/FOIIZe8eGgMAvXw8Wm06

<span class="mu-i">A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...</span>

<span class="mu-s">STAR WARS</span>
<span class="mu-s">AGAINST THE REPUBLIC</span>

War has engulfed the GALACTIC REPUBLIC
Two months have passed since the CLONE ARMY captured the strategic world of GEONOSIS, but the Republic has been unable to press its advantage.

The Republic has won most of the pitched battles fought so far, but all have been at the periphery of SEPARATIST space, and at a steep cost. Already, hundreds of thousands of clone troopers and over two hundred JEDI KNIGHTS have fallen in battle.

Robbed of the initiative by the Republic’s surprise attack, the Separatists leverage their resource and manpower advantage, only committing their DROID ARMY to force the Republic into bloody, wasteful campaigns.

After a series of daring raids by independently Separatist commanders, both sides reevaluate and reposition themselves for the long war ahead…

=====

Welcome to Star Wars: Against the Republic. This quest, as the name implies, takes place during the Clone Wars. This quest is be basically entirely Legends (i.e. from the old EU) with very little if anything taken from the canon outside the movies. Yes, this includes the 2008 The Clone Wars cartoon, which is impossible to fit into the Legends continuity. Darth Maul is dead, barring anything unforeseen, Anakin Skywalker will remain a Padawan until the middle of the war, Mandalore is CIS-aligned and is not a pacifist monarchy, Nightsisters are a minority on Dathomir which as minimal contact with the Galaxy at large, Asajj Ventress is a Rattataki, and General Grievous is both a master strategist and a serious personal threat, etc.

It's been a while since the last thread, but this one is intended to cover a lot, so I'll try to be more consistent with updates.

Previous threads:
Thread 1: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5853066/
Thread 2a: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5929453/
Thread 2b: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5981826/

Feel free to ask questions and clarifications below. With that out of the way, let's get started.

You're a plague rat.

You don't remember much about your past. Your life before the plague settled within you is a mystery. The plague doesn't affect you, and you're not sure how it would affect others if they got infected. You feel an itch to spread it though. You also feel like you'll grow stronger and maybe learn something about the plague if you do.

Your little body still aches, not from the plague, but rather as if from a long journey making your muscles sore.

Around you, in the dark, is flowing waste, the pitter-patter of water drops on wet stone, and the stench, the unmistakable stench of the sewers. You think you also hear the squeaking of other rats. The stone tunnels stretch before you.

What will you do, little rat?
>Find someone to spread the plague to. A misfit dwelling in the sewers? Other rats?
>Map the area. Check what's above the sewers. Maybe there's something of note within them as well.