You are Astra, a fledgling angel still in training, entrusted with your very first mission! A mischievous imp has slipped through the celestial veil and descended into the mortal realm, and it’s up to you to track it down before it wreaks havoc.

Though imps may seem like mere pests, their danger should never be underestimated. Given time—and enough harvested souls—even the smallest of these fiends can ascend to the rank of a demon lord, threatening to plunge the world into darkness and spark a full-scale demonic invasion. Failure is not an option.

Let's see... what the tech level of the world you've been assigned to?

> Stone Age – Tribes and survival, where fire is a newfound wonder.
> Bronze Age – The rise of kingdoms, chariots, and the first great cities.
> Iron Age – Empires expand, warriors clad in steel march to war.
> Medieval – Castles, knights, and the struggle between faith and power.
> Renaissance – A time of art, discovery, and political intrigue.
> Modern – The world of industry, firearms, and global conflicts.
> Cyberpunk – A neon-drenched dystopia where megacorporations reign.
> Spacefaring – Humanity among the stars, with technology beyond imagination.

Thread archives

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%20Imperium%20of%20Man%20Princess%20Quest

Pangea turned around.

“I’ll inform Father and wait with you for him, what he does after is up to him.

Under the covers of night, Pangea returned through the same route she exited the palace. A quiet footstep followed, one in an earnest effort to not be heard followed by another declaring its presence. Pangea turned around, Alpharius stood in his armor holding his power spear. Her shoulders stiffened, while Amar seemed completely unfazed.

“Alpharius… I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“When the sole princess is gone, people notice, Pangea.” Alpharius’ gaze aimed at Amar. “Who is this woman?”

“She is… our contributor to our genes. The other half.”

“What?”

“You must be Twenty.” Amar looked around. “Yet I don’t see Twenty-One. Where is your twin, my son?”

Alpharius’s eyes widened and Pangea gasped.

“Twin?” Pangea gasped. “Y—You have a twin?”

—That’s enough.—

The psychic message boomed, like a chime of a golden bell. At the other hall Father approached, flanked by his two custodians and Malcador. Chills ran up her spines. Malcador, her uncle, her mentor, approached with a furious and cold glare as did Father. They walked past Pangea and stood in front of Amar.

—Neoth.— Amar messaged with a frigid tone.

—Traitor.— Father said. —Pangea, you have disappointed me today. We will discuss your punishment at a later time. Attend the ball, and do not speak of this to anyone.—

Pangea’s shoulders drooped.

—At once, Father.—

At the ballroom, once the horns of the royal family blared so late, the people watched with extra attention.

“Presenting, Princess Pangea. Justice of Verona. Rogue-Psyker Huntress, and beloved sister to the primarchs.”

<span class="mu-i">"I was not born to have faith, and yet I believe."</span>
-K-444

There's something <span class="mu-i">right behind you.</span>

---

Read the previous threads at: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=False%20Woman

You possess an amount of Strain equal to your Conditioning score. When attempting actions beyond your current capacity, you gain a point of Strain. Attempting to Strain while at maximum Strain will result in a Strain Check. During a Strain Check, roll 1d10 for every point of the relevant Parameter. Results that are 6 or above count as one success. Results of 10 count as two successes. Three successes must be rolled to avert a critical failure. Fail or pass, after a Strain Check, you cannot Strain again until you restore your Strain by seeking shelter.

<span class="mu-s">This quest allows you to designate a second-choice vote on decisions with three or more options before Write-Ins.</span> When votes are totaled, the option with the least votes for it will be removed, with votes for that option instead being changed to the second-choice of those voters. Second-choice votes are also used to break ties. This helps increase the accuracy of votes, but is not mandatory. Please specifically mark your second-choice as such if you do so.

Vote stay open for a minimum of six hours, but will usually take longer.

A note: My writing style is pretty dry, but don't mistake that for it being serious.

Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Disappearing%20Hogwarts
Character Sheets: https://pastebin.com/0QLDFzTy
Twitter: https://twitter.com/head_qm

--

In the last thread, you:

> Took your friends on a shopping spree on the Diagon Alley

> Started your own Dueling Club

> Beat Merula Snyde in battle and earned discounted chips

> Told your parents about everything that happened to you

> Visited the remains of Camelot

> Stole a unbloomed Prophecy from a church

> Finished your exams

> Went with your girlfriend on an internship tracking a supposedly extinct dragon

> Got cornered by said actually-not-extinct dragon

And now…

<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">Thump.</span>
<span class="mu-i">Thump.</span>
<span class="mu-i">Thump.</span>
<span class="mu-i">Thump.</span>


<span class="mu-i">You feel it in a pattern, hitting your head, always in rhythm, like the march of a one-legged soldier. The swiishing sound of rustling leaves accompanies the beat as you are dragged by your leg, somewhere, by something, in a place you do not know. It remains foggy and unclear, yet you cannot think why, as if it had always been so. The visage above you is muddled into a sea of green. A forest, perhaps? You try to turn around and look, then try some more with little success, unsure of how to even move. The thing that hits your head must be the rocks on the ground, yes. You are certain of it. It is not an comfortable feeling. You feel you will be hurt seriously if this continues.</span>

<span class="mu-i">You try to raise your body, yet you cannot will it to do so. You feel so weak and lethargic. You feel so tired. Such a simple act seems impossible to you now, no matter how hard you try. But why were you trying? Yes, the thing carrying you, the man. You try to look, but yet again, your eyes themselves seem to be unable to comply, blinking slowly and tiredly, a blurry form just at the corner of its fields.</span>

<span class="mu-i">You try to call out to the man, to try to get him to stop, and what comes out is nonsense, garbled and unsure. Can he not hear you? You want to stop. You try to move your hands, to grasp upon a root, to stop these hurtsome rocks, but when your hand grasps upon the root, you feel pain, and quickly let go, quickly falling past you as you continue to be pulled. There must be thorns in the roots...if you hold on, you will surely be hurt. Yet if you do not, the rocks will do the same. Is there nothing else? Must all your choices lead to pain? You want to stop...you need to stop...stop...</span>

You open your eyes.</span>

The porcelain hordes are pushing from the north, east and south while the ever dwindling numbers of defenders, still loyal to the four, die, one by one, to stem the unending tide.

Last thread:
>>6140211

Cursed from birth with silver hair, the sign of evil influence, you play as Argia Candente, a Knight-in-training determined to finally earn your valour and save your family… and protect your friend’s terrifying secret.

# # # # # #

Welcome to the<span class="mu-s">fourth thread</span>of Argia Candente's thrilling adventures, our scatterbrained, silver-haired (busty, as the players decided) Holy Knight-trainee with a penchant for daydreaming and plagued by self-doubt. Together with three other trainees who have become your fire-forged friends, you are now approaching an abandoned Temple of Flame inside a desert made of scorched glass…

During the latest thread you received a mission by the Angel of Ansàrra, crossed the sea to the heathen lands of the Treviri Throne, met with an Asterite mage who got on your nerves, and discovered that one of your friends is not of this world. Yes, the brunette skirmisher who you admired so much, <span class="mu-s">Salicera Fors</span>, is actually one of those so-called <span class="mu-i">Stranders</span>, and comes from another world— and her actual name is <span class="mu-s">Willow Stark!</span>

This has left you baffled, but you are positive that Willow will come to terms with her troubles and hold on to the true Faith.

Especially now that you are so close to achieving your goals.
Complete this mission, and you will be ordained a Knight… and you’ll be able to invite your family to live in the Holy Land.
So close. You can almost grasp it…

>ARCHIVES:

>First Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6012263/

>Second Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6049645/

>Third Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6098808/

>Voting Link (please vote, we’re almost golden!): https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Silver%20Knight%20Quest

(thanks everyone for voting! My mom reads these threads and she’s so proud of this community!)

Update schedule:usually one update <span class="mu-s">every 48 hours</span>. You can expect between two and four posts depending on narrative pace and player interaction. I will do my best to reply to questions and suggestions though.

As for what happened last time on<span class="mu-i">Silver Knight Quest…</span>

You are a SKELETAL MAW - a person (?) reincarnated as a monster in a fantasy world.

Initially spawning as a Bone Turtle, you have done quests and wandered the Deadlands, levelling up your skills and even evolving one time.

In more detail, in the previous thread you:
>got acquainted with a reaper adventurer, Arthur, while dungeon-diving
>got quests from a strange guiding voice to recover your memories
>intervened in battles between a lich girl and her nemesis (2 times)
>traded with a skeleton caravan
>killed an undead tiger
>looted some magical power crystals from various sources
>put the undead of a border fortress to rest
>killed a mad wizard on request from the reaper
>agreed to assist a group of bone scouts (they're not made of bones, they're searching through bones for profit) in looting a secret treasury by protecting them from undead

Currently, you're with the scouts in the fortress where the portal to the secret treasury has been opened. And there are some monsters on the way for sure...

(I'm back and fixed all the technical problems <span class="mu-i">for now</span>. Let's roll.)

Previous thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6125909/

“We’ll be back in a year, just remember your job lad. The lamp is in good order, as is the horn. You’ve plenty of provisions, oil, and coal. You should be able to take care of any issues with the workshop. Stay sharp though lad, don’t get complacent. The storms will start up in a few more weeks, and Saint Brendan’s has a way of getting to you after a while. Keep your hands busy and stay on top of things though, and you’ll be fine.”

The Captain extends his hand, which you accept in a farewell shake. It is a weathered appendage, worn from a lifetime of voyaging across the seas and from his advanced age, but there is still a weary strength to it. He gives you a few firm shakes before releasing his grip.

“Mind the light and hold fast lad.”

With this final dispensation of wisdom the Captain turns and makes his way up the gang plank to his small tramp freighter. The Cape Rose is aged, covered in rust and barely worthy of the honor of being a ship. Black smoke rises as her boilers set to turning her screw, and a handful of her crew members wave at you as she slinks away.

They were the same men who unloaded the tons of supplies needed for you to see to your task on Saint Brendan’s Isle. To man the lighthouse that even now loomed at the periphery of your sight, ensuring that it warned off nearby ships from the jagged black rocks that surround and make up the isle.

You wave back to the men, they had done their job well and provided some company on the long voyage from the mainland. Turning from the small ship as she heads out to sea you take in the sight of your new home.

Saint Brendan’s is a relatively small land mass, made up of sharp volcanic rock that thrusts up from the ocean in dramatic cliff faces and curving coves. You are standing on a weather-beaten quay, made out of decidedly non-native grey granite blocks, in the largest of these coves. Dark sand makes up a miniscule beach around the edges of the manmade structure, and you had spied a few similar landings from the Cape Rose as she made her initial approach. But those shores were guarded by more of the volcanic stone, with menacing spires reaching from the depths, breaking rolling waves from the open ocean before they could assault the land proper with their full fury.

All manner of seagrass, kelp, and sargassum clings to these sentinels, bringing some dull color to the black rocks while barnacles and other mollusks add to their sharpness. While above the roiling currents moss and lichen lurk in crevasses along the cliff face.

Next to the quay lies a small boathouse, made up of the same granite and barred with a heavy metal door. It is a squat and thickly built structure, armored against the wrath of crashing breakers that presumably thunder against the landing during winter storms.

You are still William. Currently framing several mages as arsonists for breaking school property to get the school hall monitors to come and beat their shit in.