Time for another civilization quest! But first, I need to know what kind of civilization game do you want to play, so please answer the following questions.

**Chapter 1: Blood and Ashes**

It was early dawn when the abbess had roused us. I was still rubbing rheum from my eyes when we'd unceremoniously shuffled out of sullen halls of St. Elise— the orphanage I'd spent the 16 years and three seasons of my life— and into a truck, cramped and packed with about two-dozen or so prospective soldaten for the Emethian war-horde.

The gruel we'd eaten early in the morn stung acrid at the back of my throat for each lurching turn we took towards Raubzpich. I was doing my best not to stain my clothes, pressing my face into my moth-eaten rucksack with the little belongings I still had. I remember the deafening pitter-patter of rain against canvas, the flickering shadows cast by the singular swaying oil lamp illuminating the cabin, and the occasional flash of lightning that burned through my eyelids before the boom of thunder would rattle my bones. When we'd arrived at our destination, they said it was only noon, but the storm had blocked out the sun, and I could scarcely avoid tripping over my worn shoes as we were herded into the fort, a lumbering crowd of children no older than eighteen, shivering and smelling of rain trudging through the mud, following the lights of the officers like giant silken moths.

We were first forced to relieve ourselves of our belongings, then our hair, then our clothes. After that, we were *inspected*.

No, measured. Holes violated, eyes, ears, teeth, and gums scrutinized, dark blood drawn and spit collected into twin glass vials. The crook of my elbow still stung when we were forced into the showers, as the mage who'd drawn my blood took a sample of my humors twice after the first needle had bent painfully into my flesh.

I shuffled under a waiting showerhead, averting my eyes from the nude forms of conscripts readily chatting away around me, preferring to stare at the blotches of scarlet rushing down my skin, between the tiles, and into the drain. I reached out, fingers grazing the copper dial, twisting it slowly. My eyes fluttered shut as a torrent of warmth surged over my skin, driving the chill from my bones. St. Elise didn't have warm baths, just a rag and a bucket you had to draw water from the well outside yourself.

I wasn't quite sure if I could get used to the life as a conscript just yet, but this was a definite plus.

1/3

The Lands Between are broken, the demigod children of Marika fracturing and fighting over their Shards of the Great Rune. Great betrayals and catastrophic battles have rocked the kingdom, dividing it politically and physically. Queen Marika is nowhere to be found as war consumes the land whole.

You are the last of the Silverwing Warriors under Malenia's command. When she besieged Stormveil Castle to bring punishment upon Godrick the Grafted, he, through Black Knife treachery, dealt her a fatal blow with dark weapons. You watched the horror unfold. The Scarlet Rot bloomed over the castle and hills. The flood of red wiped out nearly all combatants. It sent you down the castle stairs, down the gate, down, down, down…

Stranded behind enemy lines in a war torn land…

~-~

Welcome to the War of Broken Gold, an Elden Ring Quest set during the events of the Shattering. The Greater Will has not abandoned the Lands Betwixt quite yet, and Tarnished have yet to return en masse. There are still heroes in the land, like you, who may rise or aid the demigods back into Grace.

>We will be using a simple d20 system. Most rolls will be like Skill checks from DnD. All rolls will be done by players.

>Roll 1d20
>Best of 3 unless… Roll result is 1 (Fumble) or 20 (Critical Success)

The Silverwing Warriors, under the banner of Malenia, were the irregular troops when compared to her Cleanrot Knights. As a whole they were jacks of all trades, offering new options for combat. You wear the distinct silverwing helm and blue armor, but the way you fight is up to you.

>We’ll be voting between different arrays of stats to build our Silverwing Warrior. Once an array is chosen, we will plug in the number to the stats.

Health and Focus Points. 20 points between the two of them.

Arrays:
> 1. Balanced (10/10)
>2. Specialized (15/5)

During play we will have Flasks, which heal HP or restore FP. You begin with 3 charges, which refresh when you rest at a site of grace. How we’ll distribute flasks will be determined later.

Your name is David "Gunny" Rockefeller, no relation.
A veteran of the united states marine corps, you find yourself in a far-out situation after an all-too-close encounter of the third kind!

In the last thread you captured some live samples of the insects infesting your station for Lyna to study, giving you a bit of information on an otherwise unknown threat.
You also managed to get your mom into custom skinsuit, which has more or less returned her mobility to her, allowing her to walk and act on her own.

After that, you spent a fair bit of time checking on equipment and training the new pirate raiders for the upcoming extermination campaign.
The topic of marriage also came up with Cylia, from whom you learned that Caithans mate for life, and her staying with you forever was just a given in her mind.

But then, you learned something unpleasant that you're currently in the middle of blocking out of your mind forever.
After a quick little three or four day mental breakdown, you drowned yourself in Kyla's embrace and forced yourself back onto your feet.

SHODAN hasn't spoken to you much since then, but the other girls have been taking good care of you.

You decided that the only way to pull yourself up was to just move, and with work to be done in the bug squashing department, that's what you decided on.
The very next day, you were suited up and now find yourself balls deep in mostly unmapped tunnels in the middle of a gigantic, hollowed-out asteroid.

One of the raiders you took with you almost immediately got injured, which you somewhat expected, but that also served to put the remainder of the men on their toes.
That also made them quite slow to move, and it seems neither bribery nor threats are enough to make them eager to do their jobs in the face of mortal danger.

So you currently find yourself leading by example, putting yourself on the front line for all to see.

Will things go according to plan? What will you find deeper in these tunnels? Will David's mental state hold up over time?
Find out this time, on (probably the last) Humanity Fuck Yeah!

>Last Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6091170/
>All Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=humanity+-+fuck+yeah%21
>Google Doc: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1rNxD6ccWY5M48dLWuTWdr5LiYLuS_YIAMKlTLw42eeo/edit#gid=0
>Discord Link: https://discord.gg/PYJ7Aa3zQF

<span class="mu-i">"The United Kingdom is home to many different kinds of dangers.</span>
<span class="mu-i">In particular, York and the area surrounding it have a Witch Manifestation every</span> <span class="mu-r">=</span> <span class="mu-i">days. Magical Girls are a needed resource in that area, but are volatile within it.</span>
<span class="mu-i">I would wish all living there good luck, but luck will not save you from their clutches."</span>

<span class="mu-i"> - Excerpt from The "Territory in The U.K Guide" by £&!*@ *&"^^#@</span>

<span class="mu-i">"Life really can be pretty fairy-tale like at times, if you just try hard enough!"</span>

<span class="mu-i">- Miharu Fukugawa's Mind</span>

<span class="mu-i">"This new world is full of grace and wrath alike. I prithee a grand question: What to do to remind the world of virtue and modesty?"</span>

<span class="mu-i">- Viktoria Walker's Current Dismay</span>

<span class="mu-s">Previous (and first) Thread:</span>
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6085308/

<span class="mu-s">Other Threads by Lumina Canima:</span>
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=meguca+royale

You were at the village farms tilling the soil in preparation for the sowing when a giant black flying lizard descends from the sky. Mounted on it there is this guy in a dark armor and cloak. He says in a spectral voice "I've come for the tribute!", then his lizard grabs a couple girls and he flies away.
You wouldn't give two shits about it, but one of the girls he grabbed was your crush and the other was your cousin! I mean, both were your cousins, but only one was your crush.
Infuriated, you decide that you're going on an epic journey to get your cousins back.

Right now you just have a hoe and no money to your name though. The hoe isn't even yours.

What do you do?
> Find a stout club and go raid a dungeon for riches, you hear adventurers do it all the time
> Consult the village elders for guidance on your new adventure
> Join a group of brigands for equipment and training
> Write in

ROUND 41:
>The Menace takes NC without contest and donates the remainder of his roll of (40) and then donates his remaining (33) moves to the Cannibals who attack the Emu's (33) vs (8)
>The Ayys make no roll, so the fellowship gives up their own roll have them progress (29) spaces.

Previous thread is at the bottom of the catalog and OP will not return in time.
I'm rolling the game back to round 32 just in case

ROUND 32

>EV 15 vs. Ayys 21, Hobbits 22; Ayys +3, Hobbits +25

>YM 15, PC 10 vs PG 35, Pine Gap +25, Cannibals +10

> Emus 5

THERE'S STILL TIME TO JOIN IF YOU'RE NEW
CLAIM A COLOR AND A TERRITORY
type "dice+1d9999" in Options to roll the dice

You are Kara Zor-El, one of the last living remnants of the once proud Kryptonian Empire. When you were but a babe, the empire fell. You were taken in by another of its remnants: The artificial intelligence known as Brainiac. It nurtured you when you were little, taught you lessons of your Kryptonian heritage, trained you to fight as they did. Direct and unforgiving.

As you grew up, Brainiac reestablished the Empire. He started out only with a few derelict space stations and ships and soon grew to encompass a few systems, bringing under heel various civilizations who owed their growth to Krypton. They were rebels, traitors, they refused Brainiac’s mercy and Brainiac taught them to respect their betters.

You watched it often, orbit bombings. Wars fought between Kryptonian war machines and whatever these species could muster. Whole species punished to toil to pay back for their crimes. Your heart hardened, the Empire was in dire straits, terrible things had to be done for a brighter future.

Soon enough, you were convinced. Krypton had to return. The resources and skills of the civilizations that once bent the knee to the homeworld had to be united to continue its purpose. To expand, to enlighten.

And you reached adulthood. 21 years of age in Kryptonian society. Brainiac outfitted you with an armour made of the best composites from the New Empire, and the most up to date technological advancements the AI could muster.

“Zor-El.” His robotic voice rang from the comms console below you. “My most precious asset, how I longed for you to feel the pride that stems from fighting for the Great Cause.”

“Thank you, Brainiac.” You replied. “I have anxiously waited for this day myself.”

“It is good to hear. Allow me to remind you of your mission: You will be dropped into the government building of the Kazarrian Empire, the foremost polity on planet Racker V after the Empire’s collapse.”

You watched the planet below you as the ship approached the landing zone. A grand urban sprawl appeared below. Brainiac went silent for a moment as the dropship’s shields were taking fire from ground-based orbital lasers. The ship shook for a moment, but soon stabilized under the heavy fire.

“Worry not, Zor-El. Their technological level cannot match ours. Our shields will hold.”

“Yes, Brainiac.” You replied.

“As I was saying, with the taking of the Kazarrian Emperor, Racker V’s united front will collapse. They will understand there is no point in their defiance. Whatever pockets of resistance will remain will be dealt with accordingly. I expect this new strategy I have devised with you as its spearhead to reduce the damages caused by planetary reclamation by…” The console goes silent for a moment. “One hundred a thirty thousand, five hundred and thirteen point five eight zero…” Brainiac drones on with the decimals.

“Brainiac.” You cut it off.

“Zero three percent.” Brainiac says. “I have rounded off the last decimal for your cognitive system’s convenience.”

What is the pinnacle of sorcery, magic, the arcane arts?

After fifty-seven years of long, ceaseless toil, poring over hundreds of arcane volumes with single-spaced size 10 font, performing thousands of experiments, spending millions of silver, and suffering from a number five on the Hamilton-Norwood scale, you stole fire from the gods. You achieved that long-held dream of all wizards: the means of resurrection, eternity, immortality!

Alas, thaumaturgy is not an exact science.

The theoretical underpinnings of your magnificent enchantment had suggested a duality of spirit and flesh upon which you had staked your own life. Although that duality has been all but confirmed, its true nature has proved less transparent.

You have indeed reversed your years. Your withered seventy year old body has been replaced with a youthful one, free of crow's feet, cataracts, and moderate to severe Crohn's disease. But where you had hoped to reverse fifty merciless winters, bringing you again to the peak of virile manhood, you seem instead to have reversed sixty, bringing you a second time into the midst of tedious boyhood.

If that were the extent of your troubles, if you were still locked away in your tower with your tomes, and servants, and talking birds, it might have been endurable. But trickery of time and fate seems to violate reality itself, and in its amendment strange distortions may occur. Case in point: although you awoke again in a tower, it was not your own. Although you kept your face and even your name, it was at the expense of your history. And although you were (and shall ever remain) a wizard, you appear to have been recast as a squire in a house of meatheaded knights.

It is now the third day since your resurrection (or metempsychosis, as the case may be). You have not adjusted well to this new life. Case in point: your current confinement in the bowels of the southeast tower, with only a chamber pot and a straw mattress for company.

>What was the cause of your imprisonment?
>Insubordination. You had refused to shine the boots of Sir Gideon, a visiting knight.
>Theft. You had been caught trying to work the lock on the lord's strongbox.
>Indecency. The lord's daughter claimed you had been spying on her in the bath.
>Write-in