A buzzing sound woke you – not the usual alarm clock noise, more like a large bug flying right past your ear.
The scenery greeting you was unfamiliar. Trees. Bushes. Insects flying around. The sounds of cawing and croaking filling the air. “Shit.”
You usually spend your days holed up in your cramped apartment, playing videogames, shitposting. Drowning in your misery, finding comfort only through energy drinks and junk food.
Try as you might, you can’t seem to recall what could have possibly brought you to this place. Kidnapping? Finally having a psychotic breakdown?
You got up, brushing the dirt off your clothes. Being alone in the woods gave you the creeps, like at any moment some animal would jump you.
Something shuffled in the bushes. You flinched.
“Hello? Anyone out there?” you called, cautiously.
“Yes. I’m here. Watching. Just like I was watching when you typed down those words.” That didn’t come from the bushes. Sounded like a woman. Girl, really. Yet, hearing another person didn't bring you any comfort.
Your eyes darted all over, looking for the speaker. The realization set in that the voice was really in your head.
“You said, and I quote ‘I could take the gorilla solo.’ Well, here’s your chance, hero. Prove it to this one goddess,” she said, the poison dripped from her words.
Something straight out of a shitty anime burst into view: a game menu. Generic as hell, blue translucent UI, the works.
>[Mission Acquired: Defeat 100 Evil Gorillas and Save the World]
“Oh no…” you rubbed your temples. “I’m stuck in a shitty fucking isekai.”
Another menu popped up.
>[Status]
Class: Shitposter (Lv.1)
Might: -1
Agility: -1
Endurance: -1
Intellect: +1
Skills: Videogames +1, Shitposting +2
Now, what the fuck should you do in a survival situation? You think…
>A) I’m pretty sure I read online that I had to find water first… (Roll d20 best of 3)
>B) No wait, it said to find shelter. Definitely. (Roll d20 best of 3)
>C) Or perhaps it was to find a weapon? (Roll d20 best of 3)
>D) Freak the fuck out!
>E) Write-in

"Thule dissolves at 66.6. Card expired."

It begins with a woman, as these things often do. It was not her shapely figure, all sinuous curves, or her piercing grey eyes seemingly evaluating you, that originally caught your interest. No, that honor fell to the red dress, a thing made of hundreds of red ribbons all woven together and bound close to her flesh, showing little and hiding less. It was strikingly out of place, here on the half empty city bus as you waited for it to creak and groan and crawl across the city. Here, amidst the sour smell of last night's mistakes and today's sweat the red dress did not belong. No one else seemed to notice though, least of all the snoozing old man she stood next to.

But she noticed you. With a finger and a smile she looped a red ribbon around her finger and pulled, a strip of red coming loose, revealing a stripe of her midriff. Without quite knowing how, it is in your hands and she is gone. Life goes on. You step off the bus, you enter your office, you ride the elevator, you walk the halls, you force your face into a smile and you speak the required words of small talk.

Then, of course, you-

> Drink. Just a little of course.
> Steal. Just odds and ends really.
> Work. Just to break up the routine.
> Plot. Just one or two mad fantasies.

The year was 2091 when you left.
The technology was brand-spanking-new, and the corporations that owned it became the richest in all of human history by exploiting the fact that nobody on Earth was happy, getting the people who inhabit the serene valleys of the Bell Curve to sell off all of their worldly possessions and, prince or pauper, cram themselves into a sketchy freezerbox and be fired off at a distant sun, never to be seen again. (God willing.) This didn't just lead to dozens of official, government-sponsored colony missions with actual objectives and trained specialists of course, suddenly, any minority or fringe group whose (paying) membership could fill a sportsball stadium could crowdfund themselves their own 1,500-pod Colony Ship, made in bulk beyond the atmosphere in some vast staryard packed with increasingly-spindly Indians.
Representatives of every single ethnic group on Earth were to be found suddenly trekking across the Milky Way alongside ideological separatists, whether conservatives, liberals, religious pilgrim societies, monarchists, basically every Mormon, far-removed simps of some ancient civilization, vegans, every form of communist, and every form of fascist as well.
<span class="mu-s">And you.</span>
<span class="mu-r">And you quickly regretted it.</span>

Greetings, this is the "my first quest" disclaimer. Also I'll be using AI for some accompanying images, but not for the narrative content itself.

Welcome back.
Seeing as we got cut short last time I am going to start off with the final update from Thread 12 and include the update I had planned for the day the site went down at the very end. So if you want to skip the 'recap' and get right to the new vote you can scroll to the bottom.

Past Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Gotham%20City%20Beat%20Cop%20Quest

=====

"Kimble, toss me the shotgun. I'll pull guard while you head up first, then the Warden'll follow after you, then Hawthorne." You state confidently with a hand extended.

"You can't be serious, I-I'm handcuffed!" The warden shouts at the same time.

"Yer hands are in front of ya, quit whining." Hawthorne barks, shaking his head. Kimble, however, looks at you with a raised brow.

"You sure?"

"You've got the most experience. At least I'm guessing." You turn to the warden. "Which is exactly why you'll be following him. Anything goes wrong he's your best chance at getting saved and with Hawthorne right behind, I think you'll be shocked how easy it is to get up that ladder."

"And if you do anything slick you'll have a long time to regret it on the way down." Hawthorne growls.

The warden gulps quietly and nods his head. You accept the weapon from Kimble and toss the sling over your shoulders and get used to the weight of it. "Any quirks I should know about?"

"It's got slugs in the tube, so if you have to shoot.. y'know. Aim."

"I'll try." You state as you check your sight picture.

You all stand there, outlined in dim moonlight, dark silhouettes on the edge of Blackgate. Yourself on the edge of something, at least you have a lingering feeling you will be. You push that feeling and your thoughts on the mysterious vortex away as you take your place by the door, weapon in hand, and Hawthorne looses a gravely order.

"Get ready, Kimble. Don't let this softbody fall."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Kimble replies with a dry bite.

You hear the clatter but only allow it a brief glance as the aluminum rungs of the rope ladder drag across the rough roof. Kimble takes a few steps and hops up, grasping a high to mid-bar and ascending, the warden hesitates for a few seconds before you hear a dull thud and a hiss of pain.

"Move your ass." Hawthorne barks, followed by the haphazard scuffing of shoes and punctuated by a shrill exclamation as the warden manages to grab a bar and slowly begind to pull himself up.

"Running out of roof here, Kimble." Hawthorne shouts, you can't help but notice how much closer he is to you now than a few moments ago.

"Get.. the..fuck... UP!" Kimble spits through gritted teeth as his fingers close around Quinn's tie and he pulls with all his force.

There once was a king, a king from a small but prosperous island.

The people were happy, the fields grew with abundance. The ports were bustling as the palace gleam with riches accumulated over generations. But the king was not satisfied.

He wish for more, with ambition and envy he eyed the islands around hem.

One day he found a crown, from whom or were been lost, but the crown allowed hem to control any monster he wish. To instantly tame any monster he lay he’s eyes on.

One after another, islands fell, entire cities massacred due to the resistance they put up, those who surrendered seeing an entire generation turn spades into spears. A entire generation of mothers, fathers, sons and daughters marched to war to satisfy the ambitions of a single man.

One kingdom fell after another, until the entire Shining Archipelago was under the kings thumb. But such was not enough for the king, he crave the world. A fleet of ships was constructed to move he’s entire army to the nearby contents. Fortresses was built to increase the numbers of he’s monsters. Mages, Wizards, and Alchemists were hired, kidnapped, and blackmailed to make the beasts more deadly, more numerous.

Eventually group of heroes rose up to challenge the Mad King. They go from island to island, disrupting the planned invasion, slaying monsters, and setting fire to the fortress hatcheries. At the final battle one by one they fell until on he’s last blow, the last hero slay the King.

The King was dead, but not all was won. The monsters the King once controlled were no longer subservient. Without warning, without direction, the King’s army was slaughtered by their own war beasts. The remaining fortress hatcheries spilled monsters onto the lands as the sea monsters for the invasion sunk most of the fleet.

One by one the islands fell once more. Creatures prowled and hunted those who fled, on land and by air those who stayed were devoured. Entire families starved, trapped in their own homes as day and night became too dangerous to tired. (1/2)

-3E 140, 3 years after the War of the Red Diamond-

Your father forged the armor. Your mother wore it into battle. Your uncle lost it.

“You what?” Your voice dripped with venom as you glared at him. “How do you lose daedric armor?”

Your uncle frowned, resolute. “It was just gathering dust on that mannequin. I had people to pay.”

“Mother left it to me in her will.” You soften your look as best you can. “Who did you owe money to?”

His eyes glanced down before he told you. You took in a deep breath and sighed. It was better than lashing out. It wouldn’t do any good. “…And I knew that was the most valuable set in the collection. I didn’t want everything to go.” It was true. As you look around the basement, many were the display cases of artifacts, weapons, armors, clothing. Your mother and father both traveled all over Tamriel, first as soldiers for the Empire, then as sellswords and adventurers. They planted roots when they had you. Mother continued to adventure in the region, but your father tended to you and the house.

“There’s a lot of history here. Every corner of the Empire is represented,” you walk between the aisles as you speak. Old Imperial newt-scale armor across from Alik’r desert garb. Khajiti carved walking staffs resting in a Dwemer vase. Skaal hunting gear atop Argonian stone pedestals. Wanderers and collectors - you recall a few pieces you added to the collection.

But that daedric armor was special. It was the only thing here that your father smithed himself. Everything else was for the shop. But not that. Not for the armor his wife wore, and now his child. If it was here, of course.

But where exactly is here?
>A) Vote for the starting province.
>1. Black Marsh
>2. Cyrodiil
>3. Elsweyr
>4. Hammerfell
>5. High Rock
>6. Morrowind
>7. Skyrim
>8. Summerset Isles
>9. Valenwood

As you pass by a large High Elven mirror, you give yourself a quick lookover.

>B) What is your gender?
>Male
>Female

>C) What is your race? Vote for one.
>1. Argonian (+1 rank to Lockpicking)
>2. Breton (+1 Conjuration)
>3. Dark Elf (+1 Destruction)
>4. High Elf (+1 Illusion)
>5. Imperial (+1 Speech)
>6. Nord (+1 Blunt)
>7. Redguard (+1 Blades)
>8. Khajiit (+1 Sneak)
>9. Orc (+1 Heavy Armor)
>10. Wood Elf (+1 Archery)

>Ranks in the different Skills will be explained alongside tge rules in the next update. The ranks are Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, and Master.

(Okay, that was a lot. I'll be answering questions after I get off work. Thank you for your interest, and welcome to Inheritance Lost!)

Just look at the image,
Untitled

ART BY M4C3

Ninety-Nine waited until the sisters arrived. Sitting on top of a rubbles, armors torn, she stared at her hands and claws. She failed. Her comrades laid dead, the camp destroyed, and no news of the battle. The distant thunders of artillery and zaps of pulse weapons echoed, Ninety-Nine watched the guardsmen moving about, but she found herself with the quartermaster of the company that arrived with Tobias.

Ninety-Nine walked across the field, covered in a spare with burnt edges and torn from being pulled under the debris. While this was no robe, the tarp covered enough to keep her from shame of her body. Though she had to admit, freely walking not encased in armor without the derision or disgust liberated her a small part of her worries.

“I need weapons.”

“Weapons, a—agent?” The quartermaster said with a nervous stutter. “We don’t have much to spare as of the moment. Maybe one.”

Various heavy armaments stood against the wall, along with few grenades and melee weapons too small for her to find. She saw a heavy stubber and a lascannon being the only heavy weaponries available.

“What about things to hit with?”

“Chainswords and bayonets but nothing for your uh… stature.” The quartermaster said.

“Give me…”

>The Heavy stubber
>The lascannon

Ninety-Nine looked around the rubble, looking for a dependable material to make a weapon out of. She found…

>A rebar with debris
>Spare chainsword chains, in which she wrapped around her hands to forearms
>Write-in [Encouraged]

QM NOTE: Been a hot minute since I did this, please be patient!
ANNOUNCEMENT: I'm reenlisting, I'll tell you guys when I go baclk

It is a regular civ thread, but you can only choose a female human leader for your civilization.

Describe what kind of leader you want and the story we should write for her.

These threads usually have very few players, so feel free to go into great detail.