<span class="mu-i">3rd of Sun's Dusk, 4E 171.</span>

The sun rises over the Goldmoor, along the southern coast of Hammerfell. Here, the harsh desert that the region is known for gives way to green scrubland, thanks to the humid air of the ocean and the pleasant chill of winter. This is where the River Tark flows into Hew's Bay, and where the city of Taneth stands proud. Thousands call this port home and ply their trades within its walls and as one of its many guards, it is your job to ensure the safety of these people.

You work for the Imperial Guild of Bailiffs, as a sworn officer and enforcer of the Emperor's law. You have been keeping the streets of Taneth safe for over two years and just a month ago, your service was rewarded with a promotion. You are now a sergeant, the leader of your very own patrol, comprised of yourself and two other officers. It's not much, but the responsibility that you have been given is still a sign of trust, and an opportunity for you to prove yourself in the eyes of your superiors. With a little luck, you'll continue to climb the ranks and eventually claim a position of true authority.

It won't be easy. Hammerfell is a vicious and unforgiving place and its people, the Redguards, are not unlike the land that they call home. They are divided into many factions, though most of the region is split between two of them – the Forebears and the Crowns. The Crowns claim to be the descendants of the Na-Totambu, who ruled over the lost Redguard homeland. They remain true to the ways of their ancestors and shun Imperial doctrine. The same cannot be said for the Forebears, who have abandoned the old gods in favour of the Eight Divines of the Empire. This cultural divide has been the cause of great enmity between the two groups for centuries, an animosity that is unlikely to die down anytime soon.

Thanks to its proximity to the Imperial heartland of Cyrodiil, Taneth is considered a Forebear city and most of its population are proud to call themselves citizens of the Empire. However, not everyone that lives within the city's walls has abandoned the old ways. There are a rare few who stay true to the traditions of the Na-Totambu and bury their resentment deep within their hearts, so that they may live among the Forebears.

At the heart of the Johnny convention, behind one set of curtains inside the cuddling zone, there lies a group of zany individuals sharing their stories. You’re among them. And as of now, you’re listening to the second culprit of this entire event happening: Lydie.

The former priestess of the Church of Beauty has revealed that you (and your seven Johnny Plushies) are the reason why she’s excommunicated. This creates a little shock in Dog Girl or Proto-Cow as, well, she doesn’t act like a proper religious girl. But there’s a mystery, why *you* (and the Seven Johnny Plushies)? The moment to find out is now.

“Thanks to me? What did I do?” You feel like it’s very irresponsible of Lydie to point fingers at you or anything that looks like you.

“Be chosen by <span class="mu-s">me</span>!” Lydie puts her hand on her chest. “I couldn’t continue my proper functions without stating your beauty! They’d ask me: <span class="mu-i">Who among these men is the most gorgeous?</span> And I’d say you! Then they’d retort: <span class="mu-i">pick one of the contestants</span>, and I'd say I’m not interested! They couldn’t accept you as an answer because you haven’t gone through the proper channels. They never spared you a thought! Never listened to me! But they’d be damned! I chose well.”

“I don’t want to come off as too forward, but isn’t this entirely your fault?” Proto-Cow Verity dryly retorts after reviving from the petting.

“She’s in love, who are we to judge?” Dog Girl Donna doesn’t see the issue.

“Partially intelligent beings.” Verity states.

“Regardless! I’ve been forced into a position I would rather not be in, but as it’s my nature, I always make the best out of my current dilemma.” Lydie explains.

“Right…” You don’t know if you feel responsible for this or not. You two have never met before.

“More questions, my jewel! More questions! I’ll answer anything you’re curious about!” Lydie wants more and more attention!

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

>Ask Lydie if there is a way to help her out. Extend a helping hand to this silly girl.
>Ask Lydie if she knows Nariko or Ichie. Look for more bovine connections.
>You have spent enough time here. Leave the Convention without causing a ruckus. Let your fans enjoy themselves.
>Give the signal. Bring Rora, Pansori, and Celia back. Plan together an incredible ending for the event.
>This event was fun. Time to ruin it. Open the curtains and create an unprecedented amount of mayhem.
>Write In.

Humanity has spread out into a massive sprawling empire throughout the galaxy. The edges of the sprawl remain poorly guarded and sparsely settled after all humanity throughout a thousand stars has always been alone save for their own creations which once waged war against them. This is no longer true now an unknown force has begun to attack sector 63 and other sectors and it is up to poorly supplied and desperate sailors to hold them back.


You are the Admiral of the naval fleet of sector 63 one of nearly a 100 rimward sectors on the edge of settled human space. The war for that is what this truly is now apparently has seen you as the last of the remaining Rimward commands in the area. The food situation handled youve also collected a much more advanced but smaller Escort carrier that was sent by MidRim command as reinforcement. The enemy who you still call birds are apparently some sort of forceful colonization effort sent force by some sort of priesthood.

Agent Barry has asked what you want the NAI to focus on when it comes to research on the birds, Technology, fully translating their ;language and written word or perhaps something else?

>Technology
>language
>Write in

As the twenty eighth tyrn of Pavilion begins much of the world is embroiled in a desperate war of some sort or another. The Domo empire collapses, a titan emerging from its corpse, leaving a path of death in its wake. The jungles of the west are thick with blood and broken chitin as two monstrous hives wage bloody war. In more distant corners of the world scholars study the mysteries of the world, spirits of magic and the sometimes thin veil between worlds. Wizards brood in their towers, the adenic elves retreat from the world, and peaceful Vencia watches the wars to the south with concern. But for a moment let us consider the actors on the stage.

> The Holy Kingdom of Barza
Wielders of mighty geomantic and divine power, smiths, missionaries, and above all else soldiers, the Kingdom of Barza has worked tirelessly for many turns to contain threat after threat to Pavilion. With arcane metals that purifies darkness and can cut magic itself they stand as protectors of this world.

> Orcmanie
Far to the north Orcmanie stands as a bastion of peace, a stabilizing force for the region raising their considerable martial might only ever in defense of others. Armed with finely crafted steel and accompanied by mighty beasts they have accrued a vast empire.

> Vencia
A peaceful people, yet one ready to defend themselves the people of Vencia concern themselves more with fine food and the contemplation of the divine than the art of war, though considerable construction of mighty walls speaks to the war filled lands to the south.

> Ordalan
A land of fierce warrior women, divinely empowered by fire and lightning. Some are called demons, horned and silver skinned. Others are called weretiger, never fully human again. All call themselves Nixen, defenders of Ordalan, sworn to vengeance against their many enemies.

> Krovia
A surprisingly spiritual people, the hulking sharkmen of Krovia are fierce warriors to be sure, using blood magic to both heal and empower. Nonetheless the sharkmen are cunning diplomats as well, striking deals as often as they launch their fearsome raids.

Soon, the world is going to end.

All around the world, various individuals have been empowered by a mysterious influence known as the Incarnation system, granting supernatural abilities and strength designed to emulate the divine might of the classical pantheons. Even as humanity gained strength, another influence hellbent on devouring the universe, the <span class="mu-s">Uncrowned King</span> prepares to transgress into the confines of Earth’s reality using its foolish worshippers as a door.

The protagonist of this tale is the incarnation of Atë, a minor goddess in the grand scheme of Greek mythology, who causes and presides over folly and ruin, though her title and its implications are now mostly in name only as she sheds the training wheels of the system to finally, truly enter the realm of godhood. Now, in the final days of Earth as she has known it, Atë makes the finishing touches to her new source of strength while enjoying what may be the rest of her life as a human.

Here it is– the <span class="mu-r"><span class="mu-s">end of the line</span></span>.

>Past Threads
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Olympus+Incarnation+Quest
>Rentry masterlink, includes character sheets, shop information, inventory, and general information
https://rentry.org/olympus-quest-links
>Inquiries: [email protected]

~

>Calculation Speed
>Fuck it, all three?

You and Pheme float down the ice-cold waters of the lazy river, warm sun wrapping your skin in a comfortable heat as you splay out on a double-floatie lackadaisically training your eyes on a couple (seemingly) bickering in the frozen margarita line.

“Drinking problem?” You take a shot in the dark, “The chick has a glass but the guy doesn’t. Might be a refill?”

“Swimsuit’s pretty skimpy, and she’s flaunting it too,” Pheme shakes her head, miming the tiny strings barely covering her sunkissed skin with her fingers, “Maybe jealousy.”

“Maybe it’s the guy, actually,” you continue her train of thought, “Promised he wouldn’t be jealous, changed his mind when he saw hotter guys drooling over his girl?”

“Maaybe,” she lets her arm flop down onto your face, forcing you to dip your own hand in the river and splash her in retaliation. She recoils like a cat hit with a spray bottle, nearly tumbling out of her seat and into the water. You see her begin to retaliate, but she changes course, instantly whipping around and covering you with her body as she cranes her neck to meet the person behind her. “She’s not interested,” she hisses at presumably a guy who was presumably staring at you.

“I’m not here to flirt,” a familiarly obnoxious British voice chimes back, “Unless, of course, she’d be into that sort of thing.”

“West wind,” you frown, “What do you want?”

YOU are SPIGOT and you are BORED.
It's Friday and there's still some sunlight to burn.

What will you do today?

>a)ASSEMBLE THE TEAM:
>[1]Start with your pal PANTS
>[2]Or your old chum DEUCE
>[3]Maybe ATANDT?
>[4]Or your main man R-wait who...?

>b)STAY HOME and PLEASURE YOUR DONG

Your name is <span class="mu-s">Vincent Cruz.</span> You work at a small accounting firm somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Texas. By accounts, you are a complete and total nobody.

You've spent the last five years of your life doing the same monotonous routine day in and day out.

Wake up. Catch a bus. Suffer the indignity of underfunded public transportation for an hour. Arrive at work.
Get a cup of coffee. Go to your cubical. Work on financial and tax paperwork for eight hours.
Go home. Watch TV. Get a restless six hours of sleep.

30 GOTO 10.

That's the way it's been up to this point. The job pays well enough and the other options weren't much better.

Today begins as much as any other day. You step off the rolling hunk of steel which you could call a bus and into the looming shadow of your workplace, a grey steel and glass monolith that holds nothing but human misery inside. Just how you like it. Ha.

Your body and mind prepare to go on autopilot to get through your routine. Your legs carry you forward automatically and your face is set into the daily mask of impassivity.

You're stopped by the receptionist before you can even step foot into your office.

"Mr. Cruz." The chipper receptionist offers her usual plastic smile. "Mr. Cantwell would like to speak to you."
Oh. <span class="mu-i">Great.</span> Your manager wants to talk to you? You can already imagine the dragged out conversation he's going to put you through.

You slump your shoulders. "Okay. Thank you." Your body swerves down the hallway opposite of where your office is. It doesn't take long to find yourself in front of his office door. Lucky bastard actually gets an office all to himself. You knock on the door. No answer.
You check the doorknob and it's...<span class="mu-b">unlocked?</span> Huh. You open the door to reveal a room completely shrouded in darkness. You can't see a damn thing in here.

You have half the mind to leave right now... but you might as well see this little jape all the way through. Why not? You step inside and the last thing you remember is <span class="mu-r">two metal prongs being jabbed into your back</span> and the <span class="mu-r">accompanying surge of electricity flooding through your entire body.</span>

You wake up after God knows how long. You can't see anything and, as you try to get up, you realize your arms and legs are tied to something. There's a few whispers and footsteps then the bag gets removed from your head. It's still too dark to make out much of your surroundings, but you can make out what's immediately in front of you.

There's a man sitting on the other side of the stainless steel table that you're forcefully sat at. He's an older gentleman wearing a simple white labcoat with a turtleneck sweater underneath, late 50s if you had to guess. He adjusts the desk lamp (the only source of light in this room) to get a better look at you.

"I apologize for the, erm, troublesome circumstances that surround our little introduction." He lets out a forced chuckle. "<span class="mu-b">To keep it brief, you've been promoted!</span>"

Ilvermorny Quest continues after a brief hiatus due to life!

Archive link: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=ilvermorny

Non-canon lewd-fic:

https://rentry.co/4iehi5w8

The time Emily got banned from the internet:

https://rentry.co/68e94bro

What-if which may end up canon:

https://rentry.co/d7qyhmm6

New character sheet:

https://rentry.co/7obcbksu


You are normally Jennifer Sanders. Twin sister to Emily Sanders. Proud Witch and part Veela daughter to a line of Purebloods that can go back 1000 years on your dad’s side; all the way to Lord Salazar Slytherin. Your dad, sister, yourself are likely his only remaining pure descendants it would seem. Are the last True Seer to be born for quite a time following part of your soul being hurt and put back in wrong.

Right now, you are attending Ilvermorny school of Witchcraft and Wizardry which your twin who you share part of your soul with, and your genius if slightly autistic and abused best friend, Macy Nicole Wright both of whom followed you to America. Begun to make many new friends, new members of your Coven, including a kind, paranoid schizo with enough guns to start a war named Aubrey Thompson who has abnormal strength and toughness.

Once cast the Killing Curse to save your sister and male best friend David Adams and were strongly encouraged to take time abroad when he nearly died due to his parent’s ire after he saved you and nearly died.

And? After a handsome, sandy-haired boy got you on the trail? You have begun to search for your ancestor’s wand to keep it from the hands of someone who would use it for Evil. Will claim it with your sister to stop a disaster you were told of by a tiny version of yourself born from the Curse in your dreams and who may be Evil.

Last time, you had a good day at the Library, met a kind man, revealed your goal to Aubrey and others. Investigated a famous tree and recovered the necklace of the Dark Witch Gormlaith Gaunt, another relative of Lord Salazar, since you felt it would be important.

But? For the moment, you are not a girl with two grim Prophesies hanging over you and your twin sister.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[>OOC Sorry for the absence. Mega update time!

>POV Shift!

>You are Anna-Beth Williams. Proud daughter to a no-maj father who served with one of your DADA professors doing somethings he could not talk about and a Witch who worked as Wizarding PI and occasional Curse-Breaker. You are the unwilling bearer of Lycanthropy from an attack when you were seven. It took 9 years and the help of the kindest girl you ever met; you best friend Aubrey Thompson, but you had come to terms with the Curse. No longer believed it made you less than human and with all their help? You had learned to control it very well; to use it to your advantage.

To not hate or fear yourself.

Not much at least.

And right now?

Grand Zen-Oh, the omni king and ruler of the omniverse has declared there will be a massive tournament to be held in his honor. A grand affair between several universes, each battling it out for the very right to exist. And at the forefront of this grand spectacle will be the Saiyans of Universe 7, who Grand Zen-Oh has grown fond of watching battle. Twenty eight years ago, the Saiyan race were annexed into the PTO as just another race, one of many sent to conquer other worlds. Now, the Saiyans are widely regarded as the strongest warrior race in the entire Seventh Universe, defenders of the PTO led by their strongest, the “Dragon of New Salda” General Karn and his family.

You the players will (most often) control Karn. A man who has grown from his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733 to become not only the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759, but also personal friend to the former emperor Lord Freeza, father to well over a dozen powerful and unique children, a mentor and teacher to his fellow Saiyans, and the best hope for his universe's continued survival. No one warrior can hope to battle eight other universes' strongest fighters alone and hope to prevail, one man's power and skill won't be enough to overcome the looming threat of extermination. But this coming battle will be the ultimate test of how you've lived your life until now, the choices you made not only for yourself, but for the fate of your entire universe.


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 three correctly-rolled dice
>At ten minutes past your previous roll, and there are not yet enough rolls, you may roll an additional roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100
>99s or paired rolls may net you extra bonuses
>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 also find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j61ts42E2Ms


UNIVERSAL SURVIVAL

The gates of Felcross are behind you now. The city where you were raised, the city of your first failures and rare achievements, the last great city on the way east. You look back, as if to say goodbye. There is nothing of worth left for you there, only your bickering family and your more successful peers.

You are a wanderer now. On your belt is a sword, on your back - a bag with tools, travelling gear, some money - whatever was left after your purchases - and rations. They won't last long, but you'll think of solving this later. Two javelins fit nicely in the quiver, slung over your shoulder close to the travelling bag.

Barely a man, not a youth, you start down one of the roads. You don't know much of the world, but you've had dreams. Dreams of power, people bowing to your might, of... freedom, to do what you want, however indulgent your desires may be. Of immortality, like in the tales of the Flower Harbringer and the Collector of Names.

They are far away, but one who doesn't begin his journey will most certainly never see its end.

You possess basic ability in the way of the sword and the javelin, having been given basic training for the militia, like any able man of the kingdom. You also know your way around the streets, courtesy of your upbringing. You can repair and take care of your weapon, and know the basics of crafting, having helped around the smithy for a time. You think you can survive on the road and subsist if need came. That's about all you are capable of.

You heard the road east leads to the frontier, the outlands. Not completely devoid of settlement, it is, nevertheless, a dangerous place - some of the monsters manage to sneak into the heartlands of the kingdom of Hien, not to speak of these wild lands, where they may have greater reign. Their distance from the heartlands means all kind of folk flock there, sometimes good in heart, but often dark. It also means greater freedom, whatever the cost. At least, that's what the caravans and travellers from that land told you when they passed through Felcross.

"Only madmen go east," your grandpa once said spitefully. "Those that don't know the worth of a family at your back or a proper home you can return to." Didn't stop one of your elder brothers from going there. Didn't stop you.

The road is calm for a few days as you pass by caravans going west. You didn't have enough money to buy your place in one, so you're going alone.

After the sun sets on the 4th day of travel, you consider making camp, like the previous days, but see a light further down the road. Approaching closer, you see a person sit by the campfire, a man, if you read their build correctly. He doesn't seem to have noticed you, tinkering with something in his hands. A tent is pitched nearby, and a spear rests by the fire. The faint scent of herbs and medicine drifts in the air. The smoke, too, of course.
(1/2)