OH SHIT NIGGA. You are lady Firemane. Of the (formerly) noble house of Fireborn! You were once the greatest wagon racer this side of the kingdom. Sadly due to shenanigans, you lost everything and went into debt with the Adventurer's Guild in order to survive. But then you found the Inexperienced Hero, Ezekiel "Kid" Rutebega ! You took him under your wing to mold him into the hero he's always meant to be: your devoted apprentice (probably)

Ezekiel's older brother has started his campaign of destruction, he leads his hordes of undead barbarians to ravage the lands. As members of the guild, your party has went on the quest chain to stop said undead barbarian horde.

In pursuit of said barbarian horde, the party is currently going through the SPOOKY FOREST™

<span class="mu-r">This is the end of the world.</span> It's also the birth of a new one, or an old one, depending on who you ask. Maybe it's more like an overdue arranged marriage.

You might not have been fully aware, but the world used to cast a Shadow: a separate realm of spirits, kept away by a barrier that only a certain few were ever meant to cross. Spirits are capricious, rarely logical, and often dangerous beings composed of the essence and energy of all things real; scuttling reflections with their own arcane hierarchies and motivations.

But every wall has its rats, and the barrier between your world and the spirit world was no exception. The Beshilu are a nasty manner of demon - derived from and connected to the spirit world, but fettered to the world of flesh, and gifted with many terrible abilities. They massacre and they multiply, and their only desire has ever been to tear down that wall between worlds... to gnaw at its foundations in greater and greater numbers, until the wolves could no longer keep them at bay.

They succeeded.

Too many tears. Too many crumbling wounds between worlds. The gauntlet was sundered, and when that wall crumbled away, the world of mortals and the world of spirits were merged into one. In those first terrible moments, everyone on Earth could hear a trillion shrill voices screeching out in triumph, and swarms of rats swelled across streets and forests in writhing tides.

The fabric of reality is now like a sieve, the threads wavering apart and stretching in new directions; space and time operate differently. The sun no longer rises, or sets, and light instead seems to meander from one place to the next according to whim. Places seem to stir and shift, reacting to their occupants in sometimes unpredictable fashion. The rules have changed, and will likely change more, but things will never go back to the way they were.

That was three days ago, and it would be a stretch to say the dust has settled, but you are adjusting to the chaos. You're a survivor, and while you may not fully grasp what's going on, you're not unfamiliar with the supernatural. You are determined to knuckle down and make your way in this fucked up new world....

>Cont'd

It's March 1945, you hear about a job in a kind of ‘secret city.’ You don't know what the hell these people are talking about, but it looks promising, even too good to be true. Still, you don't have much to lose after the Great War, so you take the opportunity.

After going through a lot of paperwork and a few other things, in less than a week you're put on a ship with no name and no clear destination. They just told you, ‘It's in the middle of the sea.’

Less than two weeks ago, you were a poor idiot living on the bare minimum, and now you're still a poor idiot, but now you're on a ship heading for ‘the city of the future’. You'd heard of its founder, Andrew Ryan, a rather unique man who was quite crazy about his ideals, which is nothing new in this world.

A couple of shitty days go by. You weren't used to such long boat trips, but you forced yourself to get used to it. The food on the boat is shit, but at least it's better than whatever you could scavenge from the rubbish.

One cold morning, you've lost track of time, sleeping in rooms the size of mouse holes, crammed in with a few other poor idiots like you, seeking a future in an uncertain city. A bell begins to ring, and the ship's crew start shouting announcements: "<span class="mu-s">We've arrived</span>!’ You look out the window and all you can see is sea as far as the eye can see. You run with the crowd to the upper deck.

The crew continue to shout ‘<span class="mu-s">we have arrived</span>’. This is when you see it: an enormous lighthouse, a huge tower, an effigy in the middle of the gigantic and infinite ocean, a shining golden tower rising above the waves.

A submarine appears out of nowhere from the darkness of the ocean, and the ship's officers make preparations to board the submarine.

<span class="mu-i">Once upon a time, there was a stricken land where there was no such thing as day, nor morning, no sunrise or sunset, but endless dark. It was alone and obscure, on an island surrounded by waters as black as the sky. Yet the wind carried whispers of warmth and light, so the sad peoples of this land, intoxicated by the drink called hope, entreated their king to find the mythical sun and bring it to their lands. The king of the dark vowed to bring the morning to his people, and departed.

After five years, while the king did not return, the morning did come, with all of the light and warmth that could be dreamed of. Yet while the people were happy, the new king’s heir, his granddaughter the crown princess, was skeptical of this new light. So, she ventured over the dark waters towards the light, and finally, she found a great tower atop which burned a sun nothing like had been spoken of, nor what seemed to create the new day.

There she met her grandfather, and demanded of him the truth. Was there a sun, or no? Were they living in a day that was just night under a mask? Her elder, sad and weary, asked the simple question of if she could tell the difference. What distinguished the False Light from the Dawn?

She could not answer, and returned home, keeping the secret to her grave. Yet, friends and followers of Ange, what if the Dawn that comes is false? What if it is so convincing that none of us can tell it true? What if indeed, the facsimile created is the true one after all?</span>

-The Heresy of the False Light, Apocryphal Speech said to be performed by Disgraced Socalist and Disciple of Anton Ange, Aster Du Langue

Spring, 200X. Evening.
_______

There is a ringing behind your ears. Your senses are dulled, and are wrestling with an internal static preventing you from regaining your grip on reality. For a moment you are stunned into forgetting the where and the why of the drama: that is what happens when you get caught in an explosion. Before numbness invaded your system a mysterious force smashed into the walls of your school. A villain appeared. You could never have predicted a villain showing up in your town of Hauteville.

You and your class had little time to react. The entity collided with the building at lightning speed; demolishing one side of the school a flashy figure appeared. <span class="mu-s">A rogue magical girl.</span>

The floor offers stability for your hands and knees to rely on, currently the most reliable object for support. The fuzz in your head vanishes at a snail's pace as teenagers scream in the chaos.

"This is revenge! I'm sick of being looked down upon! You only have yourselves to blame!" the magical girl reasons. She looks familiar. There must be some sort of supernatural barrier from being recognized; but her looks and tone invoke a visceral response to your psyche. "Where is she!?"

Clarity of mind returns little by little while the magical girl sows destruction. You also feel a mysterious energy inside you as well. Is it the sensation of your life in peril? Or something more?

One of the first shards of clarity returns: your name is Gana. In this world, there are good magical girls and bad magical girls with monsters in between.

Your reputation in school is known for:

>A girl from a pretty rich family. Richer than the normal standard in Hauteville. Materialistic, arrogant, antagonistic against classmates who have less. You have bullied others for having cheap clothes or bad makeup.
>A girl leading a clique in your part of school. You have been political with your classmates; others that stand against you often find life hell afterwards. Intriguing, manipulative, antagonistic to rebellion.
>A girl frequently envious of others. You are a popular talk for boys; you exude a need for attention and hate it when someone prettier comes along. Contenders frequently run into bad rumors about themselves, in class and over the net. Vain, shallow, antagonistic to modesty.
>write-in
______

<span class="mu-s">Magical girl Encountered: Montesinos, the Indignant Magical Girl</span>

War War Never Changes.
They finally fucking did it. The bombs fell not long ago. The world is over. No more people. Just shambling radioactive corpses. No more nations, just glowing craters, dust, and shadows of people that once were. No more seasons, just nuclear winter. Shopping? No such thing. Have fun struggling to find a drop of water or a crumb of food that won't kill you. The RADS oh god the fucking RADS, inescapable and everpresent. Truly the end of the world. Rapture maybe happened and whatever is left...well, most people are quickly giving up on God. Kinda hard to keep believing when the world ended, and you were left behind. Except for the zealots, anyway, but those guys are crazy as the cannibalistic raiders.

That isn't even getting into all the weird shit that keeps happening and becoming. Makes you wish it was 'just' a nuclear winter. Walking corpses. Mutants. Inexplicable anomalies. Unnatural terrain. Strange whispers that you aren't the only one hearing. Honestly, it just keeps getting worse...especially with everything you have to do just to 'survive'. Living...living is just a luxury that only the pre war world got to enjoy. You meanwhile, are just another poor sucker caught up in this clusterfuck, trying to survive.

(This quest will be ripping heavily from games like Fallout, Metro, Stalker, and Bioshock basically anything that fits within the setting theme to keep things interesting)

>Character Creation
You may choose any trait from any game OR include a custom option that may be vetoed by me IF it's too unbalanced. Custom traits MUST include both positive and negative effects otherwise, it's an automatic veto.

The first character will be a young male because this is about a dynasty over the generations. So long as you have a living family member the game will not end however, your characters can and WILL die over time.

Anyway the last character DIED without offspring, resulting in game over, so now it's a restart with some adjustments. So here we go again. I wasn't joking about the difficulty...

It has been millennia since humanity became a star faring race. Enough time for stellar regimes to have risen and fallen, for technologies to be forgotten and relearned and for a diaspora of life; both human and alien to spread across the galaxy.

The Raihan Empire is but one splinter of the human diaspora. At its height the Empire spanned eight star systems but eventually corruption and decay set in. The Empire collapsed, its great works crumbled, its worlds became isolated. For a thousand years it was so…

Until a new warlord arose on Raiha, one that managed to quell the disparate factions fighting over the Throne world. When all his enemies were vanquished he marched upon the palace district where the remnants of the Imperial family cowered. However, instead of seizing the throne for himself Arcturus Garan pledged himself and his army to the service of the remaining Empress and took the title of Lord Commander.

Together the Empress and Lord Commander began the process of rebuilding the Empire, first securing the home system, then bringing each of the wayward colonies back into the fold.

Five out of the original eight colonies have been absorbed back into the resurgent Empire. Only the systems of Noto, Higg and Kornen actively resist annexation. Together they have formed the NKH Defence Pact, or simply the Pact.

Now the Pact must guard its independence against the growing might of the New Raihan Empire. The odds are not in their favour, they are outnumbered and outgunned, but the Imperial Forces have not yet regained their full power and the war is not over yet…

((This quest is an indirect sequel to Space shipyard quest, knowledge of previous threads is not required but it will do much to add context. Previous threads can be found here: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=space+shipyard))

>It is January 24th of the Year 71 of the Cosmic Era

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<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">Frieden Moon, The Mind-Killer. Black-Band pilot of ZAFT.</span></span> Has found himself participating in a covert infiltration of the Atlantic Federation's G-Project using his background as a former EA pilot... Though unfortunately caught in the crossfire of ZAFT's operation to steal the Mobile Weapons in Heliopolis Colony. A deceived partner uncovers a secret of the Nation of ORB. <span class="mu-i">Which now lays on Frieden's own hands to pilot.</span>

You are Tristain d’Rusalka, a noble from the United Kingdom of Fodlan born with unique abilities bestowed upon you by the Goddess. You have journeyed across the sea to the desert kingdom of Morfis after receiving an invitation to join a mysterious competition. Though you know little of the trials that lie ahead, the winner of this contest has been promised the hand of Morfis’ Princess, Yulia Xan Phanes, in marriage. Seeking adventures, thrills, and battles that would be worthy of your might, you embarked on this strange voyage with nothing but your trusted axe.

After surviving the deadly third round of the competition, you have made it to the top eight of Princess Yulia’s suitors. The final round consists of a tournament, which sees you up against the strongest warriors from four different nations. Whoever comes out on top shall be crowned the next King of Morfis. Do you have what it takes to rule?


>Tristain d’Rusalka
>Level 42 Wyvern Lord (EXP: 20/100)
HP: 78/78 (130%)
Strength: 42 (75%)
Magic: 32 (50%)
Speed: 29 (40%)
Defense: 33 (70%)
Resistance: 28 (50%)
Luck: 29 (65%)

>Skill: Resolve (When HP falls to less than 35%, Strength, Speed and Defense increase by 7)
>Dragon-kin Wyvern (SPD based chance for Fionn to launch an ice attack, dealing ½ MAG Damage.)

>Weapons: Silver Axe (+16 ATK), Bolt Axe (+14 ATK, Ranged, Targets RES), Dragon Axe: (+12 ATK. 3x Effective against wyvern riders.), Hammer (+8 ATK, 3x DMG vs Armor Knights), Devil Axe (+21 ATK, -20 HP when Used), Brigid Bow (+12 ATK, 15% Crit Chance) Iron Bow (+6 ATK),

>Spells:
Fire (+3 ATK, 5 Uses)
Elfire (+7 ATK, 3 Uses)
Wind (+3 ATK, 5 Uses, 3x DMG vs Flying, 5 Uses)
Sacred Fire: (+12 ATK, 3x dmg vs. Terrors. 5 Uses.)

>Abilities:
Crest of Indech: You are able to make a follow-up attack on one foe, regardless of Speed. (4 Charges)
Crest of Macuil: Double the damage of a magic spell. (3 Charges)
Combat Art: Earthsplitter: Cleave all enemies standing two rows in front of you. (Cost: 1 Crest of Indech Charge)
Combat Art: Throw: (Toss your weapon at an enemy and return it to your hand. Ranged attack.) (1 Crest of Indech Charge)
Combat Art: Hit and Run: (Perform an attack that allows you to dodge the next harmful attack. Increases SPD by +7 for 1 turn. Costs 2 Crest of Indech Charges)
Combat Art: Soulblade - Your next physical attack targets RES instead of DEF (1 Crest of Macuil Charge)

>Items: Concoction x3 (+20 HP)

>Gold: 1800

>Tristain’s Party: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1mrlj-c7Oe51qIoat3LJfDSv0Bw2nmExQT2EqlKlWPGw/edit?usp=sharing

>Combat Rules:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1m_UvIqCmBRzmrlu0mvttVkGRRI8bIkT6iTTrDR_J5zo/edit?usp=sharing

>Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Sorcerer%20Kingdom