You are GEROME. You have been jailed pending trial on the charge of the RAPEMURDER of multiple infant babies. You are in the LONGHOUSE PENITENTIARY. You want to escape.

What do you do?

Welcome back.

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.

Once per thread, if three or more people invoke it, a single roll may be re-rolled.

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

Discord: https://discord.gg/pR7q5Evf

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.

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

Last thread, you beat Daniel, the Greenshoot Gym Leader, evolved Coolie into a Hydrapple, trained a whole lot, prepared to head out in the morning, had some friendly battles with Sarah and Tom which you lost and groomed your team...

It has been 100 years since ancient beings, known as the Old Ones, walked the Earth with their two strong feet. Now they are gone and we animals now rule the remains that they left behind. With our new knowledge of sword and sorcery, we were able to survive in peace for a while, but then came the three factions.
The Apes: Strong giants, claiming to be as just as the old ones and believe they should be the ones to rule over the new world.
The Pigs: An intellectual but slothful group who wish to rule the world with an iron hoof and remain kings while the others remained as dumb animals.
Then there the Lizards: A fast and large group that want to set the world a blaze. Trying to forget the harsh past that the old ones left.
All three sides wishing to go war and destroy one another to bring in what they believe to be true peace.
But, unbeknownst to everyone, there was another group. One that was trying their best to find a way to heal everyone. To bring back order.
You found it.... and now you are taking care of it.

A D&D Homebrew Adventure.

Previous Quests:https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Rise%20of%20the%20Awakened

Welcome Back! Due to some new job shenanigans this is a bit late but I hope you guys enjoy the new cover art for this thread. Last time we played; Mark had accepted a night shift working the guard detail for Bruce Wayne, suspected target of Kal. C. Late and Anarky...

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

======

"Let's put Bunko and Chen in the car by the road. No offense to 'em but Bunko's a little lazy and if he can take a shortcut patrolling he will."

Hawthorne chuckles dryly with a nod.

"Looks like you already got the next lesson taken care of. It's important to know your strengths and weaknesses but it's better to know your fellow officer's. Because when shit really hits it, it helps to know what to expect."

"Like with you?"

"Right. You know to be there to help me pull the boot out of their ass when I'm done with em." He chuckles with a wry grin that could be taken as cocky. But the glint in his eye lets you know it's well earned.

A conflict of muffled voices at the front draws your attention and just as fast as he grinned, the smile is gone and his jaw is set as he marches stiffly to the front. You watch him freeze in the door and a vein begins to creep up his neck.

"Bunko." He says in a seething whisper. "The man said no shoes..."

=====

The meeting between you all is short. Hawthorne makes his position clear, outdoor patrol goes to Banks and his partner while Bunko and Chen handle the main road. There's hardly any time for small talk as the butler, Mr. Pennyworth, is less than subtle in his desire for their to be as few people in the manor as possible. Hawthorne sets the channel for your radio checks and sets them for the top of every hour. Everyone nods in quiet agreement and you break for your patrol routes until Banks catches you by the arm for a quick moment.

"Hey D, just wanted to ask you about Kimble real quick. I worked under him and everything but we aren't like... tight or anything. But I know he feels kinda shitty because he gave me a hard time over the undercover stuff and he didn't know about-"

You cut off his rambling.

"On the clock, Banks. Whaddya need from Kimble?"

"I just wanted to invite him camping. Let him know it's water under the bridge, y'know?"

"Sure thing man, I can let him know. I'm sure he'd be interested, military dudes love camping right?"

Banks shrugs but lets out a relieved chuckle.

"Guess we'll find out. Have a good shift, D."

"You too, Banks. Be safe."

You watch him head out with Costas but you can't help but notice Costas' expression as he glances at you over his shoulder. Eerily reminiscent of the first glance you got from Rogers at the gym. His eyes flick over your shoulder and he quickly turns away, you glance yourself and see a stern faced Hawthorne.

Good sirs and noble ladies, I know, I know, I should have been here in october but I am late like Charles de Valois when repaying his debts ! Such is life I would say, life is full of trials, more work, writer's block, a broken computer, heh, God puts trials on our way so we can overcome them in the most chivalric way. So ride on, let us go back on saddle and ride with Charles de Villeroi, our gallant hero, who has just left the capital to go to Tradnod, to give the duchess of these lands the locket that she has lost and that he has found after vanquishing awful men made of wood and other foul witchcraft.
For those who are new in our crowd, worry not, for I have here all the links to the previous scrolls detailing the adventures of Lord Charles de Villeroi.

>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5085315/ thread 1
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5134375/ thread 2
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5194246/ thread 3
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5314154/ thread 4
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5422744/ thread 5
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5422744/ thread 6
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5561322/ thread 7
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5561322/ thread 8
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5702984/ thread 9
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5785267/ thread 10
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5920163/ thread 11
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6011182/ thread 12
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6079405/ thread 13
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6157669/ thread 14
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6256761/ thread 15

Of course, as tradition dictates, we shall begin with a small prologue from another place of the world.

Jail Quest: a text adventure occasionally illustrated.

A night of drinking and a failed attempt to cheat on cards had landed you the strangest job slash community service sentence you've ever had: ensuring Gongalla Gaol survives the reality storm called Singularity.

Now you travel around with your employer and a handpicked crew to survey the four Reality Anchors. Hey, beats being tarred and feathered, right?

Previous thread:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6274911/

Gongallaverse:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Gongalla%20Gaol

You suddenly jolt wide awake in an unfamiliar room, with no recollection of the past few hours. It even took you a few seconds to remember you are Rosa Montagni, and another few seconds to realize the other person in the room is your crewmate, Valencio. Slowly, hazy recollections piece together a loose narrative of previous events: you've reached Viridis, the first leg of your journey to the East's Reality Anchor, when you receive news that your go-to destination slash transport, the walking city Freeport, had problems with its engine. Then you were sidetracked into a casino, where you played cards and unwittingly aided a truant Hexbourne student against a haughty twin Hexbourne students sent to retrieve him. Then you got entangled in a complex emotional... something with the casino owner, Don Bosco. Something about your mentor, Sierra (no relation to Sierra, the deity of the South anchor) and copious amounts of drinking? That must be why your memory's so hazy.

"JESUS FUCK." A bit of spit leaves the girl's mouth with the utterance of the expletive. The thin blonde man shoots an annoyed look at his coworker as he leans on his broom, watching her wipe the spit from her chin.

"Hey, management said we couldn't curse. Get that side for me." The brunette gives him an indifferent glance, grabs a dustpan, and starts sweeping in various things: rose petals, scrapped, <span class="mu-s">badly framed photos</span>, a dust of cocaine that had slipped from some celebrity's torn pocket. She scoffs at the discovery of a used condom leaking all over the concrete.

"Just saying. You'd think that at a big event like this, people would be a bit more dignified." She turns to look at the big black block letters that burned boldly on the arena sign.

<span class="mu-s">MILLER V HAWKE</span>
<span class="mu-s">FATHER V SON</span>
<span class="mu-s">TONIGHT</span>

(1/5)

Your name is Harold Eadric, and you’ve just signed up for war.

You don’t quite know what it is about, but at this point, you will take anything to get out of your village. Years you have been longing to become a man of the world, yet your circumstances have never allowed you to venture much farther than your local village with a name you cannot pronounce. At least you have been able to read stories about the world, and they only made you want to get out of this town more.

Sucks then, that your existence up to this point has mostly been concerned with growing wheat. There isn’t much else you can do in this village, really – if you didn’t plough the fields, you’d have a hard time finding anything to eat during winter. So you wasted your childhood away in the drudgery of this eternal routine, just like your father, grandfather and those before him had. All the while, you hoped you’d find a chance to get out. And just as you had recently turned into your eighteenth year, fortune struck.

"The King is looking for brave men to join the Fight against the treacherous Laumey de Galamad! His men have attacked and slaughtered our people! Answer the King's call and join his armies!"

Your family had protested, your mother had cried when you packed your stuff and left the home and fields which had formed the entirety of your existence up until now – it was all in vain. There you were, speaking to the man in his tent; having mentioned your literacy and fitness brought on you by your years in the fields, he now requested… something else? Something else you could do? You already mentioned literacy, didn’t you?

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

>Previous Thread:
>>6321520

>Thread Archive:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Errant+comet

>Tip Jars: If you enjoy the writing, consider sparing some dimes if you're able.
>patreon.com/Maxwelllallwell
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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>

A Tale From The World Of Frostpunk

The year is 1909, and the Great Frost hangs over the heads of every living man, woman and child. In the previous decade, global temperatures dropped to an unsustainable point, and the geopolitical landscape of Earth was changed forever. Mass refugee crises. Starvation. Hypothermia and frostbite. War. Nobody survived unscathed, and billions perished in the chaos.

Many of those that survived huddled around grand Generators, built by hundreds of engineers, acting as mechanical monuments to warmth and survival. Others sought out bold new technological developments, endlessly-running trains, subterranean colonies and grand zeppelins flying above the clouds. But for the majority, there were the Generators.

You never knew the world before, having been one of the “Frostborn” — those that felt their first breath of air in this icy world. Your parents were British refugees, fleeing north from Newcastle with thousands of others. Things were very hard growing up, and you feel strange absences in your memory, repressed parts of your youth locked away by your developing brain. Mum and Dad always told you that the less was said about the White Years, the better. That was the worst time, you’ve gathered.

Since then, many cities have fallen, crushed beneath instability, lack of resources or sickness. Others have developed into busy, industrious centres that now begin to hesitantly chart out the Frostlands beyond just the immediate scope of their perimeter. Your own city, Beacon, is one of the latter.