Previous chapters: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Heretic%20Cultivator%20Quest
MC info Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/x5rCdZpq
Sect/ disciple info Doc: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1A0Yghkqs4WxALnnlVJ2uPpphQk9NQ4ME32DzC1qWp7Q/edit?usp=sharing
Folklore: https://pastebin.com/AnbsrDcd
_
Today is truly a monumentous occasion, not only because it is one of the blessed days the palace of natural laws sect's tournament is being hosted, or because you've trained a bunch of toddler moon rabbits to be ready to cultivate years before any human kid could, or even because five colors came to visit and knock some sense into the five fallen dieties before they did something foolish like try to kill your, or even that you learned humans could be turned into cats if they were lucky enough to have the right spiritual root and physiques. No, today was especially important because the Thousand Lotus Hall sect had joined the Tomb, The Mountain, and The sea alliance, turning it into The Tomb, the mountain, the sea and the garden! And besides that, more exciting, was that it looked like the last few rounds of the foundation establishment realm martial arts contest would all be your disciples.

A sect wide achievement that would surely improve your temple's reputation as one of the most fierce. It isn't too surprising, either, since your students have cut their teeth and honed their claws fighting fierce ghosts and the other sects present in real, lethal combat before. And of course, their techniques, martial styles and talents are nearly unheard of in this era. Once more, like the master, the element of surprise and the unknown abilities they posses and train and hone is one of their greatest advantages

And, sure, you might drift off and nap for a few of them, knowing almost instinctively which disciple will beat who in any match up since you've trained them all and know pretty much all the tricks they keep up their sleeves and the levels they've trained and refined their technique and sorcery, but you do try to pay attention to the spars you haven't seen yet closely and to commentate excitedly for the duels that aren't as one sided as say, Huli verses the incredibly unfortunate wooden style rogue he got set up against after his first round win against Hong.

Qinxin and Ping, for example is most exciting, as the two are well informed of the others styles and have fought side by side often but never against eachother. That match comes down to Ping's ghost qi infused arm granting him a slight advantage over the former Ling subordinate, as well as the white haired monk's secret of an unbeating heart, which he uses to trick Qinxin into believing he struck him dead from a wild desperation attack of one of the Guardians of celestial sunlight's sword techniques, which Ping uses to catch him unaware and nearly blow his sword arm off with a cleverly used dying grudge shield barrier spell.
Cont

Eight-year anniversary edition.

With the majority of the Seventh Universe united under the banner of the PTO, Emperor Cooler at its head, the universe has known a time of unrivaled peace. But in the shadows threats have been growing, nursing grudges against the PTO and the Saiyan race in particular. And now those threats are rising, stepping out of the shadows to openly challenge the established order. Seeking nothing short of the destruction of New Salda and the extinction of the entire Saiyan race, can you prevent this outcome? Or will the Saiyan race be reduced to nothing more than memories, their heroes nothing more than ink in the pages of the history books?

You the players will (most often) control Karn; wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul and hope of the entire PTO, not only the Saiyan race. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has grown in power and skill, overcoming the world-ending threats that have come for the Saiyans to become the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759. From the massive Covenant empire to demonic incursions, mad cultists to vengeful gods, none have been strong or clever enough to put down Karn for good. But will one man's power be enough to protect everyone from the rising threats? Or will death come from those who you least expect it from? Your choices may mean the difference between survival and extinction, so choose carefully.


Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM

Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice
>One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun

SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tndKYpPz2RU


REVENGE OF THE BODY SNATCHERS

In the name of God, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful.

The Sultana was troubled. For a fortnight she had been suffering the same dream, grim, with a startling vividness, such as she had not experienced since her girlhood. They concerned her only son, the prince, now eleven years old, perched upon that precarious threshold between childhood and maturity. Only the other day the Sultana had been devastated to learn that the prince no longer wished to play Shatranj with her. "Shatranj," he had said, "is a game for men. It is not fitting that I should play with you." This, despite that she had herself taught him the rules of the game. They were parroted words he had picked up from one of his tutors, but that was little comfort.

Some rituals are harder to erase. When the prince fell sick one dark moon, his body trembling with feverish chills, it was his mother whom he called for. His mother, to come and wipe his brow and comfort him and whisper in his ear the tales she spun so skillfully and with so much love. So she came, passing through the dark hall alone by the light of a single oil lamp.

The scent of sandalwood and night-blooming jasmine hovered thick in the lavish bedchamber.

"Ummi," the prince said, in a little lamb's voice which smote the Sultana's heart, though she showed nothing of it in her face.

"I am here," she replied, sitting down upon a silken cushion beside the bed.

"Will you tell me a story?"

"Certainly. Of whom do you wish to hear? The hunchback? The fishermen? Perhaps the Vizier's daughter?"

"No, something new. Something I have not heard before."

"As you wish. A story of the great and the small, the wise and the strong and the cruel, the ordinary and the supernatural. But I shall need your help."

"My help?" So great was his astonishment that even in his fatigue he raised himself up on his elbows, his eyes alight with pleasure.

"We shall recount the tale together."

"How?"

"Well, to begin, tell me, ya ruhi, what sort of hero this story shall concern..."

Another day, another job. Never boring, for you are a Collector.

You are ERROR404 the Alien Collector.

Your boss is the ALIEN BUREAUCRACY, they send you into planets or sometimes stranger places to collect whatever it is that they need.

You usually collect exotic animals.

You are equipped with a state of the art FLYING SAUCER. It looks like a regular flying saucer. It can be upgraded, but you need CURRENCY. The name of your people's currency is HEADPATS, the symbol is "(>.<)". You currently have ZERO HEADPATS, you spent the last one getting a FIVE DIMENSIONAL BURGER WITH COKE AND FRIES at the local FIVE DIMENSIONAL FAST FOOD.

You're a five dimensional being, meaning you can become invisible, teleport and "edit" reality to cause matrix glitches when you are in four dimensional space. But if you tamper with reality too much, the REALITY POLICE will fine and maybe even arrest you.

What the boss wants this time?

> A Triglavian Rare Candy
> A Shinigami Ballsack Scab
> A Three Titted Fairy
> Just a regular old cow
> Write in

Earth-616, 2010.

Earlier today, you announced to the public the truth.

<span class="mu-s">You are Tony Stark, and you are Iron Man.</span>

The high from the media attention was almost worth revealing the fact. It wasn’t until you had left the press conference that the thought came to you that it was a mistake. Everyone from the military to gossip magazines would hound you now, you were sure of it.

You would worry about it later. Soon, sleep overtook you. You weren’t asleep long enough to have any real dreams, but for a few moments, you remembered. Afghanistan. Captivity. Dr. Yinsen. Him, bleeding in your arms. Then, nothing. You woke with a jolt. Happy was tapping your leg from the front seat.

“Home already?”

“Yup. Have a good night, Mr. Stark.”

He left you in the driveway, but wasn’t present long enough to hear what you heard. Alarms, coming from inside the house. Strangely, none blared externally. You walked to the door, noting it had been left open.

“Jarvis!”

<span class="mu-b">“Welcome home, siiiiiiirrr.”</span> The AI’s robotic voice slurred, then stopped. Across the front room, A man looked over the balcony, out at Malibu on the horizon. He was barely silhouetted by the light. You walked towards the steps, keeping your cool. Then, he spoke.

“I am Iron Man. You think you’re the only superhero in the world? Mr. Stark, you’ve become part of a bigger universe. You <span class="mu-i">just</span> don’t know it yet.” His voice boomed and carried even while facing opposite out towards the water. He turned to face you, appearance still hidden in the shadow.

“Who the hell are you?” You looked back incredulously. How had he gotten in, and disabled J.A.R.V.I.S., at that? Happy couldn’t have been more than a mile down the road.

“Nick Fury. Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Oh.” Right, like you were supposed to know whatever the hell that was.

He smiled for a moment, then spoke again.

“I’m here to talk to you about the Avenger Initiative.”

It was a blur. Earth’s ‘mightiest’ heroes, defending the weak. It sounded like shadowy, pseudo-world police. You liked the idea of being <span class="mu-i">called</span> a hero, but you did it your way. Whoever this guy was didn’t understand that.

He left you his card, and you threw it into the trash.

Terrifying. You couldn’t be left alone with your thoughts and nothing to do or no one to talk to you. A bottle of whiskey stood half-finished on an end table. You knew you shouldn’t indulge.

“Jarvis.”

<span class="mu-b">“Yes, Sir?”</span> A response, thank God.

“I want a full security system reboot, and an analysis on how that guy managed to shut you down. That’s not happening again. Oh, and-”

>”Call Pepper.”
>”Prep the Mark Three. I’m going out.”
>”Run a background on Nick Fury, and this ‘shield’ thing. I’m gonna’ go tweak the suit.”

Roll one 1d100 to avoid drinking as a part of either choice. Success DC is >=80.

(Reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2oKUsna2yvA)

The TV glows and lightly illuminates the dark room. You sit hunched over yourself, anticipating the program that comes on right after the commercial break ends. Every second of waiting is worth it to you when the loud, hard rock music starts blaring from the TV speakers.

"RND ... RAPID NON-STOP DESTRUCTION!" A burly voice screams from within the screen. Many fast clips of various legendary and newly rostered wrestlers play as they perform finishers, scream, deliver signature taunts, and point at whoever is watching the program through the lens of the camera.

This is what you've been waiting for all week, the intro music blaring and the videos playing along with it gets you hyped, causing you to jump up from the spot you were sitting from and jump around your bedroom. Though this day exactly doesn't fall on any special event or finished storylines within the program, you've always loved just being a witness to the tension and fights that break out from each live event.

Just as you manage to compose yourself and sit back down, your mom calls out to you from the kitchen.

"Honey, dinner is ready! Come down here," she yells from outside your room.

You sigh, groan, and put up a little bit of a fight with yourself before complying. Standing up and opening the curtain to your room the afternoon sun lights up the previously darkened room once more, a last ditch attempt before it slowly begins setting away for the dark sky to take it's place.

When you go down to the kitchen and take a seat at the table dinner progresses by as it normally does. Your parents both ask how school was today, you simply just reply with a grunt or give a simple & diplomatic answer.

It's not until you finish your plate that your little legs race back to your room and once again you're seated in your previous state before the television. Too late to witness the beginning of today's program, an ad is blaring from your TV.

"Hey kid! Love our program? Write a letter to us and enter a chance for us to come to your city for a show!" The voice yells. Shortly after a sped up version is accompanied with a long list of fine print words like 'minimal demographic range', or 'subject to location', though you don't really understand what any of that means.

Immediately you run to the small desk in your room and pull out a piece of paper, a pencil, and get to writing.

>Your name
>Your hometown

You are Cindy Moon; Warrior Priest of Khonshu, Ward of Ben Parker, Part-time local vigilante. And, just recently, you somehow obtained the title of "Slayer" from an ancient Vampire Lord with an evil agenda. Between going to school, fighting bad guys, wrangling an overeager sidekick and dealing with an <span class="mu-s">insane</span> amount of family drama, now you're expected to potentially help save the world! No pressure.

Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Max%20Spider%20Quest

Last time: After accepting the help of Wilhelmina the Blood Witch, Cindy defeated her brother Ward, and not only managed to convince him to stand down, but got the rest of Monster Council to stop fighting each other, and instead direct their anger at the creature responsible for deceiving them all: Varnae, The First Vampire!

Thanks to her quick thinking, she and the council made it out of Varnae's trap in one piece, and reconvened at a tavern in Monster Metropolis. There, she learned that her new blue friend was actually a clone mashup of Beast and Wolverine, and that the mutant scientist (Hank McCoy) had offered his help to Varnae, Skul the Slayer, and the current ruler of Limbo, Belasco.

Now that they know who their enemies truly are, Cindy and her group devise a plan to appeal to the Kaiju King, in hopes that he can muster up an army for the battle to come.

Will the Kaiju King's help be enough to save the day? Is Cindy capable of slaying something as old and powerful as Varnae, or even Belasco? And why is a member of the X-Men lending aid to a bunch of monsters?

Find out more in the latest issue of…<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">MAXIMUM SPIDER QUEST!</span></span>

Rules:
Most dice rolls will be 1d100. Modifiers will be added depending on the situation or on the alien being used(Usually +10 or -10). Crit successes and crit fails apply. Crit fails can be overridden by crit successes, but crit failures cannot override crit successes.

How to Roll:
To roll dice, type “dice+1d100” in the options field without the quotations. To roll dice with positive modifiers, type “dice+1d100+modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number. To roll dice with negative modifiers, type “dice+1d100+-modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number.

Pastebins:

Character Sheet:
https://pastebin.com/1ZihFYSV

Equipment and Gear:
https://pastebin.com/WAhveFAd

Contacts:
https://pastebin.com/WdcFXD2s

10 Commandments of the Desperados:
https://pastebin.com/Qpr2jVPE

Costumes:
https://pastebin.com/5Jie54X2

The Huntsman’s Travel Guide:
https://pastebin.com/PU6LWsip

Upcoming Events in the Maximum Universe:
https://pastebin.com/DceSEjiR

Good luck and have fun!

You wake up from a lucid dream, choose what happens next (img unrelated)

You are Kara, High Priestess of the Starlit Grove, handmaiden to Queen Selanwe, and the spiritual voice of your people.

You remember the last Gathering of Lanterns—the shimmer of silver pollen in the air, the laughter of children riding on currents of magic, the low, gentle hum of the fairies as they blessed the winds. That world, your world, is now behind you. The Otherworld, realm of fae and dream, is doomed.

One of your oldest sages saw it: a demon tide rising, swallowing the edges of reality, bleeding through the cracks in the veil. Even the fairies, eternal and radiant, fear it. No magic in your homeland can stop what is coming.

The Queen could not save the land. But she could save a people.

She chose you.

You knew what it meant. All elves do. Without the blessings of the fairies, your bodies will begin to falter. Long will your lives be, still—but they will now have an end. You will age. You will weaken. You will die.

You accepted.

Three great galleys awaited at the far western shore, vessels of living wood and spell-threaded sails. Each carried three hundred elves. Two wave-masters aboard each ship stirred the sea itself, ensuring safe passage even through storm and whirl.

You brought with you:

30 healers, keepers of body and spirit
12 druids, bearers of the last sacred seeds
300 soldiers, trained to row and ready to fight
The rest—craftsmen, poets, hunters, teachers, dreamers, lovers—all volunteers

Elvish travel bread, rich with dreamhoney and sealed in ferncloth, will feed your people for years.

You crossed the threshold of worlds.

Now you stand on the edge of a new land. A mortal coast. A strange forest of broad-leafed giants. The sun rises on alien birdsong. The rivers gleam with silver, and the soil is dark and alive. You see no humans yet. The land is wild, and still.

At night, the stars do not speak to you here. They are distant. Watching. Silent.

You gathered your people beneath those quiet stars. No one wept. One child asked if the fairies would follow. You told him they would not. But something else would follow—what you choose to make of this new life.

It is time to build.

You solved it! The enygma is over when the Sphinx let her nipples shoots openning the vaultgate.

Chamber down, you see the giant being with enourmous tits! This is what you came for, as tell the tales: