The city of Bordèu stirs, all its citizens are out in force, they march towards the cathedral of St Andrew, heeding the summons of a king.
A fortnight ago the King of Valland called a parliament in Bordèu. He stirs trouble, Bordèu and surrounding lands—indeed, the whole province of Guyenne—belongs in fief to his distant cousin, the King of Angla.
Oh but we are getting ahead of ourselves. You are not here for the politicking of the high nobility, you are here for your own reasons. Remind me where you come from. Remind me of your oath.
>Angla >Almain >Montera
— >As a young squire, you and your master were prisoners awaiting ransom. Your cruel captor left your master's wounds untreated, causing his death. Being of little value, your captor mockingly knighted you in his dungeon, he mistreated you and always made you thank him for his "generosity”. As his final act, he threw you out with only your clothes and a chipped sword. His men laughed from the walls: "Go on then, Ser Knight." They likely think you dead by now, but you remember your oath.
>Born an orphan, your miserable life changed when you met Fostin the Grey, a traveling Dwergz. Eccentric compared to all his kind, he and his company took you in. They taught you everything, made you someone, all without asking anything in return. Fostin was old by the reckoning of his people and time catches up with everyone, even those of the elder races. On his deathbed, you swore to return his clan's hammer to his children in the Pyren Mountains. You remember your oath.
>You were always equal parts poet and knight. A Troubadour as one would say in Guyenne. And in your homeland there was a particular lady who you were high in standing with, an heiress with too much wealth and too much love of song and romance. You got carried away, promises were uttered and deeds were done. A landless knight is no proper match for a heiress, she was imprisoned in a convent by her family. You on the other hand were hunted. But you shall return, you remember your oath.
Alright, Anon, you're a noble with a degree in administrative law and a mage specialized in vitreomancy - the art of glass control. Your name is (enter name). You and your troop were sent from the old continent to a small colonial port town of 50 inhabitants.
Next, I'll introduce your four advisors and draw dices for the nearby regions. Or would it be better if I let all vote for land surroundings?
Time and time again, you find yourself thinking about Lady Megistus. Though you’re aware of no bond of blood or lineage, you still feel a sense of kinship with her. In some strange way, you feel as if you might understand one another. It may be a futile hope, but you keep wondering. What if, by some remote miracle, she was still alive somewhere within the labyrinth? What could she teach you, and at what cost?
Questions haunt you, but dinner offers a fleeting sense of reprieve. No expense has been spared, either in the quality of the ingredients or the talent involved in the cooking. You suppose that small comforts like these are vital for life far up in the remote mountains. The old Martense family might have neglected them, but the new generation is not beyond the allure of fine food and wine.
Jan’s parents swiftly withdraw after the meal, as if sensing that they might be intruding upon private conversations or, perhaps, simply seeking out their own solitude. They are, after all, still Martense.
“So Bard, Jan tells me that you’ve seen that sister of yours!” Daniel announces, gesturing towards you with his fork, “Why didn’t you say anything? You know I’ve been wanting to meet her for years.”
“Why do you think I didn’t say anything?” you counter, softening the rebuke with a laugh. All jokes aside, you’re vaguely terrified of what might happen if the two of them were to meet. You’re not sure that both of them would come out alive.
“Hmm. You could at least tell me what she’s like. Elle?” the soldier insists, “I’m not going to ask Bard. He’s hardly an unbiased source, after all.”
“Oh, um, she’s very…” Elle hesitates, “She’s just a normal girl, really. There’s nothing to get excited about.”
You can tell that Daniel is far from convinced, but Jan clears his throat before any further questions can be asked. “How about a game?” he offers, “I forgot to mention earlier, we found some in one of the storage rooms. I think you might like this one, Isambard.”
“Lead on, then,” you urge, grabbing onto the excuse with both hands. Jan nods, getting up and guiding you through to another room. A map lies spread out across a long table, while a scattering of small metal models awaits your attention. You see cavalry sitting atop proud horses, and a mixture of infantry wielding archaic weaponry.
It is estimated that over 5 billion species have gone extinct throughout Earth's history. In the year 21XX, Humanity came to join that number. The chain of events leading up to this exodus has long since been forgotten, but a silver lining remained: Mankind would cease to exist on Earth, yet avoided total eradication by shunting itself into a hidden sanctuary known as the Digital World.
Your dying race discovered the sprawling infrastructure of this virtual ark right as they reached the event horizon of global biosphere collapse. Myriad wars had already broken out over the remaining resources, cutting down substantial portions of the population and resulting in the fall of numerous states. When news broke of this alternate world's discovery, nations looked up from their bloody squabbles, sick of fighting over scraps like dogs, and listened well and hard. Then came the final cooperative effort humanity would undertake: A project to move the minds of every living soul into the network, where trailblazers were working tirelessly to establish a new frontier for mankind. One without borders, without limits, without the contrivances of a material world that was dying thanks to their actions. This effort was a resounding success.
And now, God knows how many years later, you're sick of it. You want out.
The undercity of Dresh’Vol is silent now, but you can still hear the echoes of your disgrace ringing between its carved obsidian walls. You were never meant to leave. No dark elf is. Surface exile is a sentence worse than death—a promise of slow humiliation beneath the burning sun and the contempt of your own kind. And yet, here you are, stripped of rank, wreathed in shame, and cast out of your people’s subterranean empire.
It wasn’t murder. It wasn’t even intentional. You were just a student, barely through your third circle of arcane study, when the spell misfired during the dueling trials. A spiraling weave of uncontrolled energy, wild and unpredictable, ripped through the favored slave of Matron Qelvra herself. The boy turned to ash with a scream that has haunted your sleep ever since.
Normally, House incidents like this are smoothed over with coin and custom, but your family—rich in gold but bankrupt in courage—refused to pay the reparation fine. They said it was politics. They said making enemies of Matron Qelvra was bad for business. And you? You were the convenient scapegoat.
Now, you're banished. You wear a collar inscribed with your debt, magically sealed, binding you to ten years of exile or until you can pay the matron’s blood-price. Your magic remains, but your resources are scant. The surface awaits—with its wild forests, burning skies, and eyes that don’t blink in darkness.
Your house didn't even trust you to survive alone. They sent someone with you.
A shadow moves behind you. You don’t need to look to know they’re still there. Watching. Waiting.
Before you depart, you must choose the tools you'll carry into this hostile world. You may select two spells to bring with you. Or choose only one spell… and accept the company of the guardian your house insisted you take.
> Flame Lash (Red) – A whip of fire that sears enemies and can ignite flammable objects. Useful for combat and survival alike. > Vine Grasp (Green) – Animate the vegetation around you to entangle enemies or create climbing supports. Works even on dry plant matter. > Mystic Ward (White) – A basic protection spell that deflects minor physical and magical harm for a brief time. > Ghost Bolt (Blue) – A shimmering projectile that passes through walls and strikes targets behind cover. Can also be used to trigger distant mechanisms. > Shadow Leech (Black) – A curse that saps strength from a foe and transfers it to you. Weakens enemies, strengthens you. > House’s Hand – Know only one spell of your choice, but take with you a loyal guardian: Velas, a male drow blade-dancer, trained since childhood to serve your house’s elite. Cold, quiet, and fiercely capable, he was sent with you "for your protection." But you know he reports back to your mother. > Write in
It is the 41st century. Great star empires that span galaxies make up the Factions of known space. Two decades of war saw the Factions united against a common foe; the Neeran Empire. With the Empire's defeat the Factions are once again at peace, but few are willing to risk falling into complacency and malaise once more.
Great star fleets still ply the space lanes, keeping the peace and keeping a watchful eye for new threats. These fleets, once built for war, are increasingly being turned towards exploration. The neutral Navigators Guild leads the expansion, plotting new safe routes to distant galaxies. Meanwhile the Factions Alliance military act as their guardians, protecting the explorers and evaluating threats to Faction space.
The Alliance fleets still act as the defenders of Faction space, guarding against external threats. Called on to police the borders of the former Neeran Empire and support exploration efforts, they are stretched thin on all fronts. Fortunately there is no shortage of old soldiers and adventurous youths looking for a cause if the price is right. Some are more sought after than others.
In the Neeran Wars all the Factions suffered to some extent. Entire worlds were destroyed, stripped of life or reduced to rubble. The heart was torn out of the Shallan Federation while the Terran Alliance and Dominion of Royal Houses staggered from lost worlds and a refugee crisis. Worse the Dominion fell into civil war at the worst possible time.
The Dominion civil war saw many dozens of Houses conquered by their neighbours or otherwise overthrown. Some simply saw a change in government, changing sides and aligning themselves with their former enemies. Others would be annexed or dissolved outright. Even years after the conflict its remnants still linger. The dispossessed are Knights and nobles of Dominion Houses that have lost their lands and territory. Many still have personal fortunes and enough resources to be dangerous.
Knights Errant are made up of those dispossessed still determined to take up arms in some cause. Entire chapters of Knights Errant exist, some choosing to defend the Dominion, others simply banding together for safety. Regardless of reason these knights are often some of the best warriors in known space and a resource the Alliance does not hesitate to draw upon.
Your House may have long ago fallen but there is still hope for the future. Work for the Alliance protecting the exploration fleets will be dangerous but could provide the tools and opportunity necessary to some day restore your House.
<span class="mu-i">"Happy Birthday, Our Brave Boys. You are now twenty years of age and it is time you embark on your Youthful Journey so that you may learn and grow to return home as men. Make farewells to your family, your friends, and your neighbors, for they will surely miss you, but never forget the Memories you made with them, so you can share them to new friends you will make from across the nation. Make us proud and become the man we need to preserve and continue Our Memories." </span>
Every month, around 10,000 boys are shipped to Sleepy Waters for their twentieth birthday. They travel by rail or paddle streamer from their home village or town, most taking no longer than 16 hours on their voyage. It was a common sight to see so many old boys traveling during the last day of every month, carrying nothing but the clothes on their back, some cash for when they become hungry on their way to Sleepy Waters, and a slip of paper containing their personal details.
Sleepy Waters was not a pleasant sight to behold, entirely devoid from the expanse of farm fields and meadows nearly all boys are accustomed to. Those from the capital aren't as shocked as their rural counterparts but it was sill undesirable for its dull colors and muddy tracks, though the chimneys of smoke was more familiar to them. The boys entered Sleepy Waters on foot, forming a few of the longest lines under a canopy, turning and weaving to fit as many under to get away from the unfortunate rain.
Upon approaching the head of the line, one would come across an older gentleman in a dark uniform demanding each boy's slip of paper in exchange for a metallic tag with a string of numbers. He would copy the number onto the slip of paper given to him and call for the next boy.
***INTRODUCTION*** Greetings, this is not meant to be a conventional quest, instead mimicking some previous threads on /tg/ where I just shared my worldbuilding while drawing cute soldier boys. Often times people will ask questions about the setting or project themselves as a character in the threads, writing their thoughts, dreams, desires, and fears. I almost always entertain every remark and comment in the form of a drawing as the threads move onto a short story following the anons' until into a story's conclusion.
The real purpose of this quest is just for me to draw cute soldier boys.
The bad-ass adventures of two losers under the great big Arceusdamn ball of fire. ==================================== "Dan?" "Yeah?" "I think we're gonna die out here." "Yeah." ==================================== HANGOVER: Lisa: The Timeless OST - Allsides (OST Version) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CdtYefRxPc
When early SUNROSE appears with rosy fingers and pokes you right in the eye...
You wake up with a burgeoning headache and the most peculiar sense of déjà vu.
A warm sunbeam is shining through the cheap plastic window blinds and directly onto your face, teasing you like a beautiful woman away from the pleasant noise of your dreams. You grimace and shut your eyes tighter.
Perhaps if you keep your eyes closed for a little while longer, the unpleasant morning sun will vanish and the comfortable duskiness of the room will return to engulf you once more, just as a shroud of leaves is draped around a Swadloon. Your room, a fortress against all that is sadness and misery. That sounds good.
You turn to your side and pull your blanket over your head. You start to feel better, but not much.
Then there is a sound. A real sensation, drawing you further away from your ideal state. Damn.
Someone is moving around the room at an agitated pace. There's only one other person who lives with you. And now even through this haze of blood alcohol, you sense the faintest tendrils of that familiar psychic presence tapping insistently at the eggshell-thin walls of your mind.
And most unwisely, you tap back.
You know <span class="mu-s">Garcian Smith</span> as a a lot of things. He's a liar. He's a scoundrel. He's an asshole. He's a knight of the body. He's your shadow. He is your best friend and your brother. You'd say a lot more about him but the most important thing you can say right now is that <span class="mu-b">you both drank way too much last night.</span>
<Hey Dan.> His mental "voice" echoes dully through your collective inebriated haze.
<Hey Garcian,> you "say." You hiss in regret for responding with thought; it's too late now. With Garcian unable to regulate his telepathic connection, your headache starts to explode behind your eyes as you try to block out the impressions of things you really don't want to see/hear/feel/think about at all. An intoxication psychic feedback loop. All you can get out of the stream of <span class="mu-i">foreign-garbage-thought-feedback-noise</span> is
<span class="mu-i">Pulse Landlord Dark Find Search Run Hide Trash Hate Regret Hound Smoke Scum Fear Backup Seek Urgent Candy Bark Terror Impulse Trainer Look Wake Need Grab Touch Vomit</span>
You groan. It's impossible to make sense of the ocean of words forming noise in your head. You terminate the psychic connection and wrap yourself up tighter. The day may have just started but you're more pajama than man at this point.
Goodnight again, SUNROSE. You saw its orange light for just a moment, maybe you'll see it again tomorrow...
Your name is Anon Hardwood, a 20-something year old man. Well, at least you used to be. You went to bed a human. You woke up a MONSTER. Well fuck.
Thankfully, you don't seem to be feeling the urge to kill humans or similar horrible shit- though that might be because you haven't seen a human yet, you've just kind of been panicking in your apartment for the last few minutes.
Whatever caused this transformation is total bullshit.
>It is totally normal to think about and fear death! We've got monsters! Just because you took care of yourself, made sure to do regular appointments with the doctor to the point he sighs when he sees you, plan for your body to be put in front of a TV in case you just get stuck in your body when you die, and spent the last eight months desperately poring over religious texts so that you don't end up in hell, doesn't mean you're obsessed! It's normal! It's normal! Just because you tried a shady ritual from a questionable site that involved eating some weird meat to help you become healthier doesn't mean anything! Grim Reaper +Tanky as hell +Natural-born aura farmer -you are, at your core, a coward who fears death
>Sure, you don't know anyone else who loves this guy as much as you do, and you might have gotten yourself banned from the Devolution forums for yelling at the Dev for making Yakon blow up so easily, and you might have scared everyone into migrating into a whole new forum when your tore that shithead who unironically thought that the fucking pirate robot deserved an UR in Dokkan more than Yakon, but did you seriously fucking monsterize cause you finally built your awesome cosplay of the best minor villain of dragon ball Z, Yakon, the light devouring Terror from Dark Star, and decided to take a quick snooze before taking it off!? Yakon +fast as fuck boi +I eat your energy blasts for lunch -Yakon died a goon for a greater threat, fate conspires to drive you into the same position.
>This is ridiculous! You wanted to be a hero! You've always wanted to kill those pieces of shit that prey on the weak and make society worse! Actually, since you still want to be a hero, those monsters are even worse than you thought before! and If you really think about it, aren't the humans that do so worse than the real monsters!? They're still humans, yet are just as bad as the monsters, but we're supposed to be merciful just because they are a human!?None of these scumbags don't deserve any amount of leniency! You're going to rip them all apart and make sure no one remembers them as anything more than a piece of trash that died screaming, a warning to scum! False Hero +Incredible willpower +Very convincing non-monster appearance -Incredible bloodlust against both monsters and "bad" humans
>write in, provide some sort of picture and motivation.
