Previously on Helena's Quest.
Our protagonist, Helena, after defeating Strawberry Cookie in a Bogemon:D combat, gifts her the potato she sought so much. With it Strawberry Cookie will be able to get even more potatoes like in Minecraft.
The Potato wasn't King's wife.

What's all this?
Read >>>/i/817964 at your own risk.
I'll post the archived threads below.

<span class="mu-i">In spite of your efforts you may be apart.</span>

I have a quest for the team that responds to “Foxtrot Nova”.

Burn the singularity equation on a blank CD, then play it in QuickTime Pro. Any version of the program is fine.

The following will be mostly be based on factors of real life, excluding Eastern Europe and the events after the main divergence point, which is during the 2003 Invasion of Iraq.

<span class="mu-s">Who are we?</span>

You are political and economic leaders in Iraq. You have access to the ability to form militias, based on your ability to draw recruits and form a broad coalition, and/or get outside backing.

With these militias, you can defend your people / rights, and/or exert power over other groups and make demands.

<span class="mu-s">Who are the people?</span>

Iraq is about:

<span class="mu-s">55%, Shia Arab</span>
These Shia are torn between being aligned with religious leaders in Iran and religious leaders in Iraq. There are two Ayatollah's (Similar to the religious power of a pope), and a major cleric popular among the urban poor.

<span class="mu-s">20%, Sunni Arab</span>
The Sunni spent decades privileged under Saddam, but their areas are devoid of oil and major resources. There is the "Sunni" triangle which is up the two rivers and northwest of Bagdad, and a massive desert area in the west of the nation. The Coalition fired a lot of the former army, filling the country side with angry and unemployed Sunni soldiers.

<span class="mu-s">20~%, Kurds (Sunni)</span>
The Kurds are a distinct mountain people who live in the north and are divided amongst four nations. The have risen up against Iran and Saddam multiple times, and suffered for it. They have two major political factions that hate each other.

<span class="mu-s">5%, Christian Assyrians, Turkmen, and everyone else</span>
The remaining population is about 3% Turkmen, half a million Christians or less, and various groups with specific languages or religions.

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2026/6402615/

Last Time on 3rd Born Son:

The Latterborn chose to escape with their loot rather than risk venturing deeper into the Doom in search of Brightroar. During their escape, they lost many of their number and almost the whole of the expedition to an apparition of the Many face God, a Thing that sought to have them take on the debts owed by those within the doom.

With Jason's lead, the Latterborn denied the debt and managed to escape, only for Asha and Jason to be cast into the boiling sea of Old Valyria. Miraculously, they awoke off the shores of Tolos safe and sound, where they made the decision to walk the demon road to return to Volantis.

On the way there, they stopped at Mantarys, where they discovered a branch family of the Blackfyres ruled over the forgotten city of mutants and the twisted of form, the Lady of Blackscales rules. Haenora Blackfyre, daughter of Maelys Blackfyre, was informed about the fate of her father, and became distressed.

x

“Sers,” you said, standing from your knee and holding your arms out “I must tell your lady the truth, but it is a harsh one, one that she will need support to bear.” You say, looking at each of the black cloaked men, then to Lady of Blackscales with your kindest eyes “Please, search me for weapons or threats as is your duty, but allow me to step closer, so I may support your lady in this telling.”

Asha looked at you with a mixture of confusion, astonishment, and the annoyance only a spouse could hold for their partner.

“No, no, y-you can stay away, Just…I d-don’t need,” The lady said, the imperial tone she had before gone, and the scared woman lost to time was laid bare.

Balarys, the black cloak closest to the Lady, stepped forward and took a knee, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. She seemed to calm, though her breath still showed signs of panic. He then looked at another Black cloak and nodded, who returned the gesture. The second black cloak stepped forward, his hand on his sword, which looked to be a curved blade meant to fly out of one's sheath with ease and speed. You had no doubt that if a man were to charge any one of them, or their lady, Seven forbid, their blades would see their work before the attackers heard the grind of metal on leather.

(Cont)

Part 1:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6313302/

You are Ted Kazador, hunter and amateur engineer from the town of Salmon, Idaho. Your town elected you to investigate rumors of an army of robots killing and capturing people.

Previously:
Our hero traveled to Boise in search of answers, disposing of a communist and some raiders on the way and picking up Kira, a survivor of the robot attacks. In Boise he gathered information and uncovered another communist infiltrator from the west, before teaming up with Oswald, another investigator researching the robots. Together they ventured East with a caravan to Twin Falls to learn more, where the mayor offered a bounty for information on communists in the town. On the way back west the caravan was surrounded by a force of robots, who demanded surrender and stated that they place people in a chemically-induced state of extreme bliss in their facility, as their goal is to maximize human happiness by eventually placing all humans in such captivity. Those who fight are killed, as this sacrifice of human life serves the greater good of the mission. Ted cleverly convinced the robots to let them go since they could inform the other humans of the robots' "benevolent" intentions, ensuring others will agree to be taken later on.

Previous chapters: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Heretic%20Cultivator%20Quest
MC info Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/x5rCdZpq
Sect/ disciple info Doc: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1A0Yghkqs4WxALnnlVJ2uPpphQk9NQ4ME32DzC1qWp7Q/edit?usp=sharing
Folklore: https://pastebin.com/AnbsrDcd
_

An innocent and curious witch is looking up at you, with eyes so bright that they almost contain as many stars as your hair does. However, while you do want ghost cultivation to spread, nothing good will come from giving away a blueprint or step by step guide for other daoists to practice, making it easy or cheap goes against your ambition and would kneecap these young, newly minted ghost fanatics before they could even dream of retracing your steps through the graveyard! In a mischievous mood, and wanting to scare off those dabblers who were only caught up in the excitement and don't really have the mindset or half the courage necessary to follow the Dao of Ghosts, let along the dao of grudges as well, you decide to give the students from the other sects a little scare.

"Here is one" You say, beckoning the excited witch closer, not missing the smug look she shoots her martial siblings and peers from other sects. Her confidence and big head both deflate as you slap an open palm on her meager chest and use a principle you use to trap rebellious or annoying ghosts into specially prepared pots or boxes, trapping them inside. But rather than forcing something in, or pushing your way to take residence yourself, you instead grab hold of her soul directly, covering your hand in a gossamer thin glove of pure ghostly yin Qi as you grab and yank out her soul.

"This" You tell the flaring, living soul in your palm, spreading out just enough ghostly yin Qi into the air to pull down the curtains between life and death enough for the other disciples trusted to you to see her as her body goes limp and falls into your arms "Is what it feels like to be a wandering soul"

Cooing and purring, you stroke and pet the soul held in your hand, eyes glowing with gravetorch fire as the rest of the crowd of novices goes quieter than an empty grave. "Isn't the sensation enlightening?"

You stare down into the witch's spirit, cackle and shove her back into her mortal vessel, the red strings tying her soul to her body going slack the moment you release your grip on her soul. Then you drop her, leaving her to blink awake as her body remembers it is supposed to be alive, her sun kissed cheeks drained of color and a bit of drool crawling out of the corner of her mouth. Certain you've taught her a lesson in prudence, you turn to face the other students whose eyes flick between her and you as you place your hands on your hips and cackle as creepily as you can manage, while haughtily declaring "Heh-Heh-Heh! I'll do it for free, if any of the rest of you wish to experience it"
Cont

Previous Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2026/6358836/

First Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6212686/

>Your party goes on a tour of a spooky mansion.
>Your group finds a meth lab, also the anomaly
>You return to base, and eventually find your tour guide was turned into a zombie.
>It's the weekend!
>Time to go shopping!

It has been 2000 years since the Black Knight tore open the last of the great portals and trampled the worlds of the Weld with his unstoppable warband. As his band crushed the native kingdoms and nations, burned the banners of ancient orders and sects, and laid to waste the effigies of the gods, the Black Knight did not remain to rule over these broken lands. He rode ever onward, allowing the shattered peoples to rebuild under the shadow of the dark rider. New standards flew over reconstructed walls, men of arms kneeled at the feet of new monarchs, cities rose to glisten in the moonlight, and all throughout the Weld those who had rode alongside the Black Knight departed to carve out a niche that they saw fit. But none would find dominance, for without warning or reason the Black Knight and his cohort would ride again to despoil the realms.

It is under these times that our tale brings us to a busy inn along the road Ghenthun, linking the odd trails of Onsev to its two largest portals. Sleeping gravcars and beasts of burden huddle within the confines of the stables as the warm lights of the inn shine against the haze of the cool and cloudy day. The patrons of this meager establishment turn or shiver as the door swings open, bringing in a breeze and…

>A figure suited in plate armor, a knight in unassuming grey bereft of heraldry or insignia. His gaze lingers on the crowd a few moments too long (Young Questing Knight)
>A coated man who swiftly moves from the door, his hand passing into the insides of his garment as he grasps the stolen collateral he brings for tonight’s game. (Outlaw Gambler)
>The cloaked figure of a larger being, followed swiftly by a another shrouded biped escorting a thinner hood who takes in the sights of the crowded tavern (Traveling Princess)
>An unassuming being wrapped in cloth against the cold, slipping swiftly and quietly into the shadows of a nearby booth. (Aspiring Thief)
>The clank of metal tipped combat boots and the clink of loose rigging as their weary owner shambles to the bar (Free-of-Company Mercenary)

"Wait, you mean you knew <span class="mu-i">THE</span> Giovanni? As in THE leader of Team Rocket? The one that disappeared a few years ago? I don't-"

<span class="mu-g">"You brats don't got hardly any attention spans left at all, huh?! Ain't you been listening, kid, we didn't just know him, we practically put him on the map!"</span> Says a stout, gruff old man with a comb over and patchy stubble in charcoal black and silver-grey. The cigarette in his mouth falls out and into his coffee. His eyes have been scrunched shut the whole time, but they go wide and bloodshot at this. <span class="mu-g">"Ah, cripes, see whatcha made me do, brat?!"</span>

<span class="mu-b">"We got our start alongside his father, see? Rolled together and helped build the family business. We're the finest cat burglars in the region."</span> Adds the woman next to him, who seems every bit as old, with noticeable laugh lines on her face, and a small nose, with grey wavy hair that falls down to her chin in a bob cut. Her eyes are bright, sharp blue, and a little mischievous.

The kid sitting catty-corner to them at the long counter of the diner quirks one eyebrow, and lays his menu down flat in front of him. "I'm sorry... But aren't you a little old to be climbing up buildings and stealing things?"

Comb-over slams his fist down on the counter and points accusingly at the child with the other. His eyes are scrunched again, but angled down angrily. <span class="mu-g">"YOU AIN'T GOT A CLUE WHAT WE'RE TOO OLD FOR YA SNOT! WE'RE THE REAL DEAL PROFESSIONAL CRIMINAL AGENTS AND WE GOT DECADES OF EXPERIENCE, WE'RE SHARPER THAN EVER!"</span> He pulls three poke balls out of his pockets then, rising out of his seat and stepping back. <span class="mu-g">"I oughta teach you a lesson right here, right now, about respectin' your elders!"</span>

A black leather glove grips his shoulder, and another man, with a deeper voice, speaks up from behind him. <span class="mu-r">"George, you're making a scene. Smooth moves, right? Let's make it all smooth moves today."</span> He says calmly. He's got a leaner, more athletic build than the bruiser he's talking down, with a thick white mustache and mutton chops, a black scally cap on his head... And a black eyepatch with a bold, red letter 'R' on it. His gaze extends past the man's shoulder and to the woman. <span class="mu-r">"And Leslie, I told you not to let him have more than one cup of coffee - you know how he gets."</span> He chides with a slight smile. His good eye is a dull green color, and something flashes behind it when he speaks to her.

<span class="mu-b">"Good morning, Leonidas."</span> She says with a smirk. <span class="mu-b">"His wife told me not to let him have more than one side of bacon, either, with his blood pressure where it's been lately. But, well, you know how he gets."</span> She smiles then, showing a silver tooth on the left side that glints in the morning light.

>1/3