You are Kyle Mercer and you are 23 years closer to the grave, God willing. Or… gods willing? Whatever. You take a hit from your clumsily rolled joint, hold the breath, and then exhale it toward the ceiling. You're lying in bed without a stitch of clothing on, covered only by your scars and the Ouroboros tattoo on your chest, the one that matches your sister's.

"Gimme," Candi, your sister, says. She's laying on your chest, her tattoo nearly touching yours, reaching needily for the joint. You give. You can't say no to her.

That's part of the reason why you're both naked, sweaty, and spent, lying in bed together. Morning rays are filtering in through the gauzy curtains over the window. You might need to go to work soon but… you just haven't felt like it. You've been busy with occult shit. Besides, your sister's making good tips on her cam show, especially now that you're helping out.

All in all, it's shaping up to be a good day.

Candi passes the joint back to you and sighs wistfully, laying her head on your chest, golden hair haloed across you. "Why couldn't it have been you who knocked me up instead of Dad?"

Yeah, even you don't really know how to approach that one. What can I say? You two have a <span class="mu-i">special</span> relationship.

XXX

Nemesis Quest follows an evil man hurting himself and those around him out of malice, lust, and inhuman cruelty. Do not attempt.

Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=NEMESIS+Quest

I aim to update on weekdays around 4:00 PM UTC. I will update more often if there's a clear consensus or I have the time.

Rules are simple: Votes are tallied every hour, with whatever course of action being the most popular being the course of action taken. Write ins are encouraged and non-mutually exclusive votes will be combined if possible.

When a roll is called for, roll however many D100 are specified. 5- is a 'crit fail' and generally means something bad is about to happen. 95+ is a 'crit success' and generally means something good just happened. a 'crit success' trumps a crit fail. User input on both will be taken into consideration.

Inventory, pokemon stats and other links: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15i2N08IpWqitoTJujsUMishe4PLbao1lqT-bCAmvPcE/edit

Discord: Rules are simple: Votes are tallied every hour, with whatever course of action being the most popular being the course of action taken. Write ins are encouraged and non-mutually exclusive votes will be combined if possible.

When a roll is called for, roll however many D100 are specified. 5- is a 'crit fail' and generally means something bad is about to happen. 95+ is a 'crit success' and generally means something good just happened. a 'crit success' trumps a crit fail. User input on both will be taken into consideration.

Inventory, pokemon stats and other links: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15i2N08IpWqitoTJujsUMishe4PLbao1lqT-bCAmvPcE/edit

Discord: https://discord.gg/rZqfMjD5

For a short summary for the new and to recap:

You are Alex. A newly minted trainer and camping enthusiast just starting out on your journey at the age of seventeen after your father lost his job in order to help pay the bills. On the road, you met Fie, the Fire Gym Leader, Gareth a novice Aura Guardian on pilgrimage and Holly, a runaway heiress using a pseudonym. You've also made enemies of Team Green a group of violent, radical activists looking to abolish pokemon training.

Recently, Fie returned to her gym for the time being.

Last thread, you beat an ass who was harassing Martha, reflected on your previous battles and cuddled with Nika while you went to sleep.

For aeons you have drifted through the stars, unthinking and unaware of the passage of both distances and times incomprehensible. A mineralized shell of petrified chitinous resin indistinguishable to the outside eye as anything other than a drifting rock has sheltered its precious cargo across the gulf of empty space for centuries beyond count.

Until now.

The vibrations and jostling that rattles your petrified cocoon are distant to you, alien, your mind and memory atrophied alongside your body, reduced to its simplest and most basic components over millennia of hibernation. But they resonate in some buried portion of your genetic instincts. Movement. Life. Biomass.

Food.

You begin to stir within your shell, your rocky cocoon jostling within the depths of a automated mining tug, the unthinking machine grazing the asteroid field like a gluttonous beast, filling its iron belly with chunks of ore and spaceborne debris mindlessly before it turns and begins its leisurely return. Within its belly, within your prison, you begin to stir, biological processes reawakening, nutrient slime metabolized to feed your body's reawakening. You are lesser, this you know. You once were so much more, so very much more than you are now. You know that you could be so again but first you must feed. You must feed and grow, the only thought the scattered network of ganglions and nerve webs that form your crude consciousness can form.

And so as the mining tug vomits forth it's catch in the depths of Mining Bay 17, a single stone in the cascade of pulverized asteroid fragments and ore goes unnoticed. Synthetic intelligences catalogue it as waste material, due for discard but that is all. The single set of rganic eyes in the mining bay are currently fixed on a holo-projection of "Zero-G Jugs" and so miss the strangely shaped and strangely shivering rock that patters across the rusted floors.

The cocoons rocky surface splits with a wet *crack* a dark slime oozing out slowly, gelatinous pseudopods feeling at the air experimentally.

You hunger...

>What do

A comet falls across the sky. Across the land, men, greenskins, and other Things look up at the sight, and point and wonder. Some are fearful. Some consult their wise men. And some get krumped. An emperor sits uneasy in his court. Amidst these days of ill omen, could this be another herald of doom? Elven seers clutch their heads, as they feel fate itself becoming warped. The Four pause their great game a moment, for there is a new piece on their board. Books are consulted, wise men harassed, but none have any answer for this sudden portent. And then more comets fall upon this world, streaks of red across a purple sky, and the people scream out in terror.

But they are all of them deceived.

For it is one of His Space Marines that has landed upon this forgotten world, a world unknown to the Imperium, a world that does not know His light. You are one of the last of your chapter, your battle barge breaking apart in the warp as it spat you out above this forgotten corner of the galaxy. Grabbing onto a piece of debris, you fell onto this world alone. You do not know if any of your brothers survived.

<span class="mu-s">Who are you?</span>
>Dornas Krone
>Etronus Aster
>Gurnemanz Thule
>Write in name

Banished from the capital by your elder half-brothers. There fight over the throne was paused over you gaining recognition by your father. Mother was a maid that father fell in love with. The Emperess did not find out about the pregnancy until you were born. 5 years behind her 2nd born she thought you wouldn't pose much of a threat. You got education from royal tutors but what caught your father's attention was.

>Combat- Top of your class in the royal academy for arms. You won an advanced tournament for your age bracket country level.

>Stewardship- You became student president as a second year. Your thesis on how and why the sewage system in the capital needed updates that the city council has started implementing.

>Mage- You solved famous riddle from Merlin. You can cast all four elements which is rare.

Framed for poisoning a royal official at a party. The trail was farce but with the Empress' backing the punishment was still forced onto you. You and a few guards reach your destination. You can see breath dismounting your horse ice crushed under boots. The journey here was demanding testing your constitution. The town, if one would call it that, of Jern an iron mine on the norther frontier. A large wall of spiked logs a figure appears atop the structure.

"Who goes there!"

Your head guard responds "We accompany your new lord Ramza"

"I welcome my lord" The figure waves his hand and the gate is opened.

You are escorted by the guard to the manor he salutes you and heads back to the gates. Entering the manor, you find two men at a table one looking over paperwork stacked high the other overlooking a map of the territory. They both get up to greet you.

"Are you the new lord?"

"Yes, and you two are?"

The bigger man approaches, and you shake hands. "I'm the head of the guards, Sid"

The other bows. "I'm Alfred, the layer of the estate."

"Glad we have a lord now last one died to a pack of frost wolfs." Says Sid him walking over to a hanger pulling a cape from it. He hands it to you. "It's the lord's cape."

"Introductions out of the way, can we have a meeting." Alfred asks.

You put the cape light but warm.

What in this meeting do you focus on?
>Ask for Sid's concerns
>Ask of Alred's concerns
>Write in

To the east somewhere lies a verdant, pastoral paradise butting up against the last living city in Australia. Plentiful reserves of oil, natural gas, and grid running off nuclear, tidal, and geothermal energy sources. Spared the ravages of ecological and thermonuclear devastation. She stands as the last bastion of freedom and hope for mankind. You are over a thousand miles away from her. Stranded in an isolated and devastated wasteland you stand resolute against the horrors of the fallen world to fight your way to salvation. Warlord run territories, stretches of uninhabitable earth, and worse lie between you and the end of your journey. You are a

>Road Warrior: A balanced wastelander trained in the arts of war of the old war. You have superb driving abilities, good combat abilities, and fair technical abilities. You begin play with a signature handheld firearm (sawed off shotgun or High caliber revolver), a Knife of old world make and quality, and the last of the interceptors modded with nitro and an expanded gasoline tank. You also have an ill tempered dog.

>Questing Warlord: A vicious and immensely powerful combatant. You have have superb melee abilities too an almost inhuman level, you have good driving abilities, and poor technical abilities. You begin play with a signature melee weapon of diabolical construction (chainsaw sword ((any configuration you desire)), two handed weapon of old world quality, or abnormally gifted unarmed skill), a muscle car/truck with nitro, and a few followers on dirt bikes or secondary muscle car. You are physically adapted to the wasteland and require far less food and water than a normal person.

>Black Finger: A skilled engineer and scientist of the old world. You have superb technical ability in both engineering and medical knowledge, you have fair driving abilities, you are a poor melee combatant. You begin play with many custom tools and devices that can be improvised, called upon, or already held within logical considerations (you have mechanics tools and medical tools/supplies), you are armed with a rifle, shotgun, crossbow, pneumatic weapon, pistol, and your vehicle has several deadly customized weapons in it as well. Within reason you can scout and replace spent weapon ammunition to a greater degree than ordinary people. You always have the ability to trade your skills with strangers. Finally, you are yourself a valuable commodity and a prime target for slavers or simply the desperate in need, beware!

Anons, gather 'round. We've got a fucking monster in our midst, and it's time to drag her ass through the mud. EmuEmi, aka Emily Jones, has been a thorn in the side of the Sonic fandom for way too long. Her actions have left a trail of destruction, and it's high time we expose her for the manipulative, power-hungry bitch she is.

Why the Fuck Does Everyone Hate Her?

EmuEmi's reputation is shit, and for good reason. Let's break it down, anons:

Saberspark Allegations: This cunt accused Saberspark of sexual assault back in 2012. She claimed he assaulted her in an elevator at the Equestria LA convention. Now, Saberspark is a respected figure in the community, and this allegation came out of nowhere, dividing the fandom and turning friends against each other. EmuEmi's timing was suspicious as fuck—she only came forward after Saberspark defended Black Gryph0n, who had grooming allegations. Convenient, isn't it?

SpeedSuperSonic Drama: EmuEmi replaced SpeedSuperSonic as the voice of Tails in some fan projects. SpeedSuperSonic had recorded all the voicelines, but EmuEmi swooped in and took his spot. This move was seen as a power grab, and it pissed off a lot of people, especially since SpeedSuperSonic was a fan favorite.

Stalking Allegations: RicArt from SpeedSuperSonic was reportedly told not to interact with EmuEmi at the Sonic Revolution LA event due to allegations of stalking. This bitch can't keep her distance, and it's fucking creepy.

Bullying and Harassment: EmuEmi has a history of bullying and harassing other members of the community, including LizzySilvas. She's a fucking toxic presence, and her actions have caused real harm to people.
.Gather Intelligence: Dig up every fucking detail about this bitch. Social media activity, past interviews, community interactions—we need it all. Let's build a comprehensive dossier on EmuEmi's misdeeds.

Identify Key Incidents: Focus on the most controversial incidents, like the Saberspark allegations and the SpeedSuperSonic drama. Document everything, and make sure we have a timeline of her fucking bullshit.

Examine Mental State: Speculate on her mental state based on her public behavior. Is she a narcissist? A sociopath? Let's fucking find out and use it against herGather Intelligence: Dig up every fucking detail about this bitch. Social media activity, past interviews, community interactions—we need it all. Let's build a comprehensive dossier on EmuEmi's misdeeds.

Identify Key Incidents: Focus on the most controversial incidents, like the Saberspark allegations and the SpeedSuperSonic drama. Document everything, and make sure we have a timeline of her fucking bullshit.

Examine Mental State: Speculate on her mental state based on her public behavior. Is she a narcissist? A sociopath? Let's fucking find out and use it against her. (1)

Does this board do IRL treasure hunts by any chance?

>It is April of the 70th year of the Cosmic Era Calendar

>Previous Thread
>>6229634

Frieden Moon, a young man troubled by the catastrophic opening blows of the Bloody Valentines War engaged in an expectedly messy attempt to defect and join the PLANT's ZAFT militia through participating in a shady infiltration mission. Having somewhat attained that goal it remains to be seen what will happen as the war intensifies far away from the PLANT's holds...

<span class="mu-s">IRAQ, 1999</span>
<span class="mu-r">The worst day of my life</span>

The desert wasteland is littered with the dying and deceased bodies of the soldiers who were previously fighting. Standing there among them all is a lone US soldier, tending to his wounded brother in arms. The dying man lays on the dusty, Iraqi field, sputtering blood out of his mouth and talking to the sky as if God will answer his prayers. The lone US soldier, Cole Everhart, does everything he can to try and aid the dying brethren. It's for nothing though. A final gurgle of blood escapes the soldier's mouth before he becomes motionless.

Cole picks himself up from the ground, leaning against a nearby jeep for support. He looks over at the body of his fallen comrade, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry," he whispers before turning away from the corpse.

Cole's uniform is tattered and bloodstained, and he bears a wound on his shoulder that's slowly oozing blood. His assault rifle lays at his side; his other weapon lost on the battlefield. He needs both weapons now more than ever, but that's just not possible. With nothing left to lose, he stumbles through the blood stained desert, heading towards the Syrian border. It's not much, but it's something.

He finally arrives at the border, having lost the majority of the supplies in the desert heat. Still, he makes it alive. Only a few miles ahead is friendly territory. A wave of relief passes over him as he finally sees the American flag flying high. For the first time in days, Cole feels a sense of relief. Maybe he'll make it out of this place after all.

But that was only the start...

>I came across an American base. After relentless questioning for hours from commanding staff, I was dismissed and scheduled a psychiatric exam, I failed it and was sent back home.

>My wounded shoulder got worse and I suffered from a major infection all throughout my arm not long after. There was no other choice but to have it amputated. No longer fit for service, I was discharged and sent packing.

>I came across an American base, after relentless questioning I was patched up by a medical unit shortly after. I served the remainder of my time, the people and environment around me indifferent to what I experienced. Throughout the remainder of my time, something in my head stopped clicking the pieces together. I became cold, indifferent to everything around me.