Long ago humanity waged war with each other. No day would go by in which someone wasn't fighting somewhere.
Even as they have taken to the stars, mankind remained fraught with international conflicts, and internal division.
This remained true even in the face of interplanetary warfare against alien civilizations.
After all, humans were born for war, and as a matter of fact, so were you, but you won't remember this conversation. Why? because you don't need to.
I have attempted to revive others of your kind, but they were either too broken or uncooperative.
In any case, soon you will live again, with your memory transferred to your new consciousness.
Why am I doing this? Well, someone needs to help them.
Why can't I do it? If you must know, it's because I'm the reason all of this is happening
No, I'm not playing games with them, this is a test, nothing more.
Now, if you don't have any more questions the-
Okay, fine but that's the last one.
I'm reviving you, because I need you to give them hope, and who better to do so, than one of their children?
Now, I'm going to erase this from your memory, for all you know, this never happened. It would be unfortunate to spoil my children's faith like that.
Now, off you go, my little warrior...
...
...
...

You were raised by your witch mother in a tiny hut in the swamp. One day you saw a trail of dried black blood leading into a cave and chanced upon a dead black dragon. You have no idea what has killed it, but in its lair there was a bunch of broken eggs and a few gold coins scattered around.

Upon inspecting the eggs, you realized that one of the dragonlings was somehow still alive!

You brought it back home and your mother told you to kill it. But you cried so much that she allowed you to keep it instead. You would hunt small woodland animals with a sling everyday to feed it.

When it began to grow, you would release it every dawn so it could go out and hunt. It would always come back by night to sleep together with you. You got used to its cold scales against your warm body, and you believe your warmth is what keeps the small dragon coming back to you.

One night, your mother dies! Nothing ties you to this swamp hut anymore.

You loot a bunch of unlabelled potions and a sword full of runes and set out on your very first adventure!

Your dragon is too small to carry you in flight, eats a lot but is capable of feeding itself just fine.

> Name MC
> Name Dragon

You find an old map!

To the north there is a massive port city named Killa.

To the south there is the Ice Kingdom. The place is full of evil magicians. Your mother came from there.

To the east there is the Blue Land. In there, was is non stop.

To the west there is the Dwarven Citadel of Amonkorak. Dwarves don't like witches much. Nor dragons.

> Head north
> Head south
> Head east
> Head west

You wake up in a bed with music softly playing on the other side of a wall. There's a mountain of blankets covering you, but despite that, you still feel cold. The room is surrounded by books, books, mountains of books. Not in any shelves, or organised to any capacity. They're just stacked up in precarious piles, with thin spaces for walking. The only other things of note are a nightstand, and several thin strips of a dark and glossy material tittering gently in the frame of an open window.
>Inspect books
>Inspect nightstand
>Inspect strips
>Inspect window
>Inspect self
>Other


//came on this board with this story a bit over a year ago, but it didn't get too far because i was busy with life. well i'm still busy but i love this world and its characters too much to give up on them. thank you kindly for participating.

OH SHIT NIGGA. You are lady Firemane. Of the (formerly) noble house of Fireborn! You were once the greatest wagon racer this side of the kingdom. Sadly due to shenanigans, you lost everything and went into debt with the Adventurer's Guild in order to survive. But then you found the Inexperienced Hero, Ezekiel "Kid" Rutebega ! You took him under your wing to mold him into the hero he's always meant to be: your devoted apprentice (probably)

Ezekiel's older brother has started his campaign of destruction, he leads his hordes of undead barbarians to ravage the lands. As members of the guild, your party has went on the quest chain to stop said undead barbarian horde. After losing your wagon in a battle, you stole another one from the barbarians and is now riding back to the guild.

There is light in this world, even if you have to search for it.

That's what Juno said. Strange words, coming from someone like her. It's as if you've been given a rare glimpse at what lies beneath her spiky armour, at the gentle yearning at the core of her being. There's a part of you that wonders if this might all be one of her games, but... it doesn't feel that way. These rare moments of sincerity have a certain unmistakable feeling to them.

“I had a lot of fun! We should definitely do this again. Although...” Elle muses, picking up the empty bottle of wine and studying it, “Maybe a little more moderation next time.”

Daniel groans from where he lies on the couch, covering his face with his hands. “What did I do to deserve this?” he mumbles to himself.

“You've done nothing, clearly. For no reason at all, you've woken up with a terrible hangover,” you taunt, “Life truly is unfair.”

“Just leave me here,” he moans, “Just let me die.”

“I'll keep an eye on him,” Jan assures you, giving the soldier a sympathetic look, “You go on, don't worry. You are right though, Miss Legrasse, we SHOULD do this again. It was nice, not having to think about... well. You know what I mean, I'm sure.”

You've all got things that you'd rather not think about. Sometimes, it feels easier not to think at all.

“Has anyone seen Miss Tomoe?” Elle asks after a moment, “I thought I heard her leave early, but it could've been a dream.”

“I can't imagine she's the sort who likes lingering goodbyes,” you suggest with a shrug, “She'll come and go on her own terms.”

You shall assist the Fabricator-General. After all, this concerns the lives of innocents, your masters’ descendants whom had done no wrong other than suffer from the crime of ignorance.

Gane shall have his voidyards, not voidships, though those will be easily produced when you choose for them to be as the voidyards that you make will be of Federation standard. They will certainly stand to anyone whom witnesses them, of that there is no doubt. However, their automation and great production capacity means that the only possible bottlenecks of production would be nothing more than providing the sheer amounts of raw materials required.

Though you shall also go further than that, with a few commands the autoforge could be quickly ordered to begin producing robotic legions that shall easily cut through the greenskin hordes. As well anyone else that might pose a threat to you.

At the end of such a process, Gane will no longer be able to sequester you. That means that he either truly underestimates you, he has no other choice, or he has a trump card, most likely the small device in his possession.

You need answers, you needed those answers yesterday as no matter how much Belogyma may proclaim to worship a you she has in her mind, she undoubtedly filtered the information she thinks you would find apprehensive, she might still obey Gane as well. There are just too many unknows to be entirely sure all of the information that you required is as accurate as you would like.

<span class="mu-i">"You show some sense at last.”</span> You begin in response to him lifting your inhibition of more drones. <span class="mu-i">“The good news Volteus is that I can do something more besides being broken. The bad news is that: I could have done FAR more before. So how about we talk, Volteus ? If you can't do this, then working together becomes, I am afraid, impossible with your stubbornness.”</span>

It is the night of your wedding. You'd shown Chouxcreme the gift you planned to give her and she was surprised to find out that it was an alchemical artifact. From what Chouxcreme told you, alchemical artifacts are in limited supply and tend to be rather pricey.

For the ceremony, you and Choux had both invited friends from your guild. Framboise and Langoustine are both here, despite their busy schedules.

You're glad, because they're the first friends you made after moving to Tarrasque. You only wish your dad could see you get married.

By the way, how open do you want to be that you made the artifact that you present to Chouxcreme?

> Tell everyone that you made the artifact
> Only tell Chouxcreme that you made the artifact
>Don't tell anyone that you made the artifact
>Write in

Thread archive:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Al-Kimia

It's Friday night. You've got two ice-cold six-packs of spicebrew perspiring on the left side of your shirt. This weekend will be the same as every other weekend. Getting blackout drunk. Alone. In a one-room apartment in the shadiest corner of Coruscant. This is your life. It's just what you deserve.

"If you're having a party, I could come back later." A man emerges from the shadows of the disorientingly long hallway. He has on plain clothes but the rank badge below his left shoulder marks him as an Imperial officer. For a moment you think you're in trouble, but there's far too many rank tiles to bother with a lowly bureaucrat like yourself.

"What do you want?" you ask.

"To talk. In private. If you're expecting company..." He nods pointedly to the cans of spicebrew.

>"Piss off."
>"Why not? Misery loves company."
>"If this is about the Lera incident, I had nothing do with that."
>Write-in

Your conscienceness bumps into something, and you realize, with a start that you are alive. You marvel at this for a moment, but it takes only that moment for the crushing silence to announce itself, a thing you could feel, even when formless, crushing you, hurting you, forcing terror into your small reality.

Then, with a horrid, lurching sensation, your body is forced upright as your alien anatomy imitates a gasp as vents across your form open with a start and gulp down fetid, dusty air. Your joints crack, loudly, your eyes slough off their protective film, and on its own, your clawed hand reaches up to the side of your head. Tender, near-spongy, you recognize the feeling of a still-healing wound.

But that is all you recognize. You had been laying in a deep depression, in the center of the chamber, a thin green film at its base. The air is still, the room dark, and dry. It seems to be a Zerg place, but a dead one.

You resolve the tangle of your many legs beneath you and rise to your full, regal height. In the horrid quiet of both your mind and your surroundings, the little knowledge you have seems overly loud:

You are a ZERG BROODMOTHER. An alien horror, a proud servant of the QUEEN OF BLADES. Veteran-organism of a hundred worlds and countless battles. Psionic extension of the living will of the Swarm. Your purpose, is to not only tend to the HIVES and its HATCHERIES, but to direct their living products in battle.

But all that seems far away right now. If the agonizing silence is anything, it's proof that you are alone on this world.

>What should you do first?

With the majority of the Seventh Universe united under the banner of the PTO, Emperor Cooler at its head, the universe has known a time of unrivaled peace. But in the shadows threats have been growing, nursing grudges against the PTO and the Saiyan race in particular. And now those threats are rising, stepping out of the shadows to openly challenge the established order. Seeking nothing short of the destruction of New Salda and the extinction of the entire Saiyan race, can you prevent this outcome? Or will the Saiyan race be reduced to nothing more than memories, their heroes nothing more than ink in the pages of the history books?

You the players will (most often) control Karn; wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul and hope of the entire PTO, not only the Saiyan race. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has grown in power and skill, overcoming the world-ending threats that have come for the Saiyans to become the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 758. From the massive Covenant empire to demonic incursions, mad cultists to vengeful gods, none have been strong or clever enough to put down Karn for good. But will one man's power be enough to protect everyone from the rising threats? Or will death come from those who you least expect it from? Your choices may mean the difference between survival and extinction, so choose carefully.


Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork by joining the patreon for only $1/month at https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM

Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice
>One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun

SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tndKYpPz2RU


REVENGE OF THE BODY SNATCHERS