you, yes YOU will determine the fate of Our Hero! your prompts shape his destiny and his actions (almost) all suggestions will be considered! don't be afraid to get creative!

Another set of tyrns passes and begins again, bringing with it a new set of challenges. The threat of lunar invasion has passed, and with it a new era of peace begins. Of course such things rarely last. Already the nations of the world dabble in tremendous powers that could alter the world. Stolen lunar technologies, tremendous machines worked powered by magic, the holy light of gods and puppets stitched together from broken spirits. The world lurches toward great change, ready or not.

---

This a Multiplayer Nation Roleplay! Unfortunately we are full up on players at the moment with no openings expected. Apologies to anyone who wanted to join!

> Global
Across the land all breathe a sigh of relief as the great silver fortresses of the Lunites march into the ocean, never to be seen again. Even those few who can follow them find no trace a tyrn later.

> Turbans
Glorious victory at last! Though the battle rages day and night Turban ingenuity has won the day, developing horrific poisons that leave the invaders trembling and flailing while strikes against key locations of their silver fortress has sent it into retreat toward the ocean! Despite the usage of terrible weapons of magical fog the invaders have been driven back! At the height of the battle a great charge of biotitans slam into the fortress and hurl it into the sea! Glory to the Turquoise Turbans! Nothing remains of the invaders save their memory.

> Vencia
The great cataloging of Taxmoss is an exciting time for the explorers of Vencia as they cross the foreign jungles on the far side of the Tarn. It is of course also a somewhat terrifying time of course, because such activities inevitably lead into the territories of the Red Wall, a fearsome skrit war thing that is decidedly less friendly than the usual Skrit, it seems quite determined to devour everything in reach in fact.
A nutty new gourd is discovered in the jungles, one that curiously grows more like an onion than a normal squash, with most of the plant firmly underground. Getting them pulled free is quite the hassle, fortunately normal Skrit drones are usually handy to help dig them out. When the ants get into the leftover squash left as payment they change color to a curious metallic brown, at least when not near a venk. Is this some sort of magical thing?

Humanity has spread out into a massive sprawling empire throughout the galaxy. The edges of the sprawl remain poorly guarded and sparsely settled after all humanity throughout a thousand stars has always been alone save for their own creations which once waged war against them. This is no longer true now an unknown force has begun to attack sector 63 and other sectors and it is up to poorly supplied and desperate sailors to hold them back.


You are the Admiral of the naval fleet of sector 63 one of nearly a 100 rimward sectors on the edge of settled human space. The war has finally turned in humanity's favor the once unending horde of bird ships, who you now know are called the Argono have finally ebbed away. Your industry soars and the first of the friendly fleets have begun to probe from Mid Rim sector 63 in your own sector to hopefully soon relieve you.

You're currently on patrol facing off against a small fleet of enemy ships made up of 4 battleships, 2 battlescruisers and 12 Heavy cruisers facing off against your veteran picket line of corvettes, destroyers, and several light cruisers along with your freshly converted semi guided missile cruiser. The enemies' lasers dance around the picket line as the push forward even as your missile cruiser comes to a stop and turns to give the enemy their broadside. There's several large flashes as all 12 of its missiles fire and burn fast toward the enemy capital ships. There is some swearing over comms as the missiles zip past the picket line and your strike craft but the pilots and captains are too busy dodging incoming fire as they loose their own torpedo strikes to give too much complaint.

Could I get a 1d100 best of three please

Past Threads:https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=BrinkQM

Your name is Johan. And you have been a taxi driver for as long as you can remember.

Which is about less than a month, give or take. You are not truly certain anymore, as time had begun to behave erratically, quickening and stopping at whim -- the sight of strange shadows worsening these effects.

But that was neither here nor there, though one could argue that it was something that affected you recently.

Two people were standing before you:
The first, her skin unnaturally pale from makeup, had an impish spark in her eyes. A mime and a seeker of thrills, <span class="mu-r">just like you were</span> - Mimi.
The second was someone whom you could only describe as a jock and a gym rat. Like you, he was <span class="mu-g">beset and obsessed by the mystical</span> - Jeremy.

Yes, you remembered now. You were talking with these two fellows about meeting an <span class="mu-s">old friend</span>. He made an arm spring out of the television recently. You remember that-

<span class="mu-r">You used to love going on nature trails with all your friends. All</span> <span class="mu-s">seven</span> <span class="mu-r">of them.</span>

<span class="mu-g">You recall, when you were young, your parents would take you out to the forest every summer. And you would journey out into the wilderness, looking for something, anything, that remained unexplored.

There was a squalid passage, beyond a gate in decay, that led to a small grotto. You left the town's chaos then and there.</span>

<span class="mu-b">But you never found a path that wasn't tread before.</span>

You frown at the thought. Another wandering memory. One of many. Though this one felt melancholy.

You couldn't say how true or false it was, or how innocuous they were. Last time you'd entertained a memories, death almost took you by the neck. But was it truly the fault of the people here? Perhaps another wandering shadow took the moment for itself, and laid claim upon your life. Or attempted to, at least. Perhaps it was someone else, the evidence was muddled but extant, you felt.

<span class="mu-b">Alas that it might have appeared from the outside perspective that, as you were twisting and turning in your sleep, you'd almost strangled yourself with your blankets.</span> A perfect accident.

But not one you nor your closest companions believed.

You knew of many shadows. You had seen them, shifting and sinewy, attack you and reveal wound an essence deeper than any feeling. Not to mention the physical injury, which was cured overnight for some unexplained reason. Yet you suspected a <span class="mu-g">dream</span> had something to do with it.

But none of the aggressive shadows, which Jeremy claimed to be mara, had made attempts at your life while you were unconscious. They tried to kill you -- that went without saying -- but you felt that none had yet attempted to kill you as you entered another realm as you slept.

Nine years ago King Aiden Perenolde betrayed the Alliance and sided with the Horde of Orgrim Doomhammer. Nine years ago Prince Alric Perenolde, the second heir of Alterac was sent into exile for his own protection. This exile turned permanent and Captain Normand Garside, your guardian for the past nine years made sure that you were safe and learned the useful skills that would help you in the future.

Now you are ready to carry the responsibility and unite the scattered Alteraci people and reclaim the lands that were once the Kingdom of Alterac.

Politely saying everything had gone to shit. King Varian in his melancholy and delusion had arrested Prince Alric for what he saw in Alric's part in Lady Katrana Prestor's attempt to wrestle the control of the Kingdom of Stormwind to herself. In reality Alric had been the voice of reason and tried to negotiate a peaceful solution to all this.

What had followed was a swift counter-coup and Malevus found herself being chased by a bunch of thugs wearing the King's tabards. Danger, intrigue and diplomacy filled her days as she was steadfast in her mission to rescue Alric.

And now she is on her way to the Stormwind Keep, into the Lion's Den to rescue the man she loves so much.


Welcome to Alterac Resurgent Quest!

…

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MedivhQM
/qst/ Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Alterac%20Resurgent%20Quest
Prince Alric Stats: https://pastebin.com/rysxdRsv
Quest Mechanisms: https://pastebin.com/CyD88qqf
Character List: https://pastebin.com/FkYd6wkJ
Side Character Stats: https://pastebin.com/aRfyksUG

This is but one of the legends of which the people speak...

Long ago, there existed a kingdom where a <span class="mu-s">golden power</span> lay hidden. It was a prosperous land blessed with green forests, tall mountains, and peace.

But one day, a <span class="mu-r">man of great evil</span> found the golden power and took it for himself. With its strength at his command, he spread darkness across the kingdom. But then, when all hope had died, and the hour of doom seemed at hand...

...a <span class="mu-g">young boy clothed in green</span> appeared as if from nowhere. Wielding the blade of evil's bane, he sealed the dark one away and gave the land light.

What became of the hero is lost to myth, another mystery of the past casting a long shadow. In one village, it is customary that when children come of age, they make a pilgrimage to the <span class="mu-s">nearby ruins</span>, and bring back an <span class="mu-s">artifact</span>. In doing so, they bring what was left in the dark to the light, and keep their history alive.

You are from that village, and today you turn 18, and must make your own pilgrimage. Your father was an archeologist at <span class="mu-s">Hyrule University</span>, and now that it is your day to recover an <span class="mu-s">artifact</span>, you are determined to follow in his footsteps with your diligence.

But shadows hang over more than the past, now. A <span class="mu-r">ruthless warlord</span> has rallied an army, and has laid siege to <span class="mu-s">Hyrule castle</span> for nearly a year, seeking to claim the golden power. Darkness gathers across the kingdom, and shadows stretch ever farther each passing day...

<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-g">Welcome to LOZ: Umbral Tower, where you will play an unlikely hero destined to save the kingdom from a neverending shadow. In this game you will roll pools of D6s based on your stats, which will improve over time, against competing pools of D6s, where 5's and 6's are considered successes. Ties normally go to the aggressor, not the defender. I may tweak this as we go.</span></span>

<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-g">This quest will probably roll very slowly and sporadically. I will roll a 1d2 or similar to break ties if they drag.</span></span>

<span class="mu-i"> In times of old, there stood many a great kingdom or realm, their lines proud, their kings great, and their works were legendary. It was a time of greatness for all, from all classes and races, for it was a time when the yields were abundant, the cattle fat, and the weather favourable.

This changed, however. A creature with a heart pitch-black and eyes of darkness and despair that rise and shrink with hate. All despaired at his coming and the hordes and legions he brought with him. Crowns were broken, castles slighted, and the kings lay broken. Like a vile black hand, his reach seemed boundless; with his fiery red eyes, his gaze kept his subjects obedient, and from a dark tower, this lord of evil watched over his realm as the land fell into darkness and despair, with hope fading like a dying ember.

But embers can flare up, and like the phoenix, a new generation of heroes and their hosts of light broke the chains, shattered his armies to the winds and finally brought an end to his reign of terror. As the morrow broke once more, it was thus proclaimed that nevermore should his name be uttered, nevermore should his remains be seen, and nevermore should there be fear of his tyranny. And so, the people rejoiced in their newfound freedom, rebuilding their shattered world with hope and determination for a brighter future. His artefacts and symbols, buried deep beneath the sands and earth, were so well hidden that not even the most fanatical cultist would find anything.

And yet in that lies the danger; dead though he may be, there are still those who revere him as though he were a god-king upon this earth, and his ilk have a tendency not to stay dead… There are still whispers, mutterings and vague prophecies about his return, though none have come true as of my writing this tome…. His name was struck from the lists of both paper and mind, so one would never again say that name which struck deep grief into the hearts of all peoples…. I shall end this book with a warning: if he does return, do not try to fight him; run. Run to the nearest authorities and alert them; fighting him alone shall surely be your doom, even if he's weakened, but the worst thing you can do is to let him speak; his words shall gnaw in your mind, his arguments shall be so persuasive that you will drop your weapons, and he shall weave a web of deceit that will ensnare even the strongest of wills. Hearken unto him, no matter his guise and form, and before too long you shall find yourself in eternal servility. </span>

Archive link: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%20Shadow%20Rises%20Anew
DeviantArt link: https://www.deviantart.com/adlershorst

Well, here we are.

You were woken up from a midday nap by the grinding of the brakes as the train arrived at X-X Station (pronounced "Double Cross," according to a clerk), and thus missed the first opportunity to queue for a quick exit from the car, as you were still quite drowsy and groping around to ensure that your possessions had (also) arrived unperturbed. Now you have queued behind a pair of rotund priests (Reformists, you think), as they gingerly step onto the platform and lose themselves in the sea of people. There are more people here than you've ever seen in once place, at least since you were a child. It's hot: hotter than it would ever get in Iscthymia. At least it's a dry heat there. Here you can feel every layer of clothing beginning to drip. But you can't take off your jacket just yet. It's dangerous, you think.

If there is one thing you hate it's traveling over-encumbered, so, in the spirit of new beginnings, you packed only the bare essentials. There's a nagging feeling of regret as you begin to intuit that perhaps you wouldn't know what would really count as essential in this new chapter of your life, in Chaotzakka, with its fourteen million people. These are things you would've pondered on the train ride had you not dozed off immediately. You're carrying a hardshell briefcase, a backpack that's coming apart at the seams, and a little bum bag crossed over your shoulder. You lift your patrol cap to see more clearly; you don't want to remove it as your hair is almost certainly a mess, but the material is itchy. The cap and bag are from your year of mandatory civil service. The backpack is from your school days. The briefcase used to be your dad's.

You're trying to get used to the smells and sounds. It seems like everything ticks, rings, or thuds in this city. You are buffeted by a blast of hot steam and struggle to breathe for a moment. Unlike a country bumpkin such as yourself, city-dwellers know to back away from the train as soon as they get off. That's why they call the station the "sauna." Just a little sample of that big-city wit for you.

You thought you'd checked that you had everything before getting off the train, but a sudden irrational panic grips you and you fear having left your most important possession behind. But of course this isn't the case; you can feel its weight on your right hip. Still, just for assurance, you reach down with your free hand and grip your

>Blade
>Pistol
>Staff

It has been millennia since humanity became a star faring race. Enough time for stellar regimes to have risen and fallen, for technologies to be forgotten and relearned and for a diaspora of life; both human and alien to spread across the galaxy.

The Raihan Empire is but one splinter of the human diaspora. At its height the Empire spanned eight star systems but eventually corruption and decay set in. The Empire collapsed, its great works crumbled, its worlds became isolated. For a thousand years it was so…

Until a new warlord arose on Raiha, one that managed to quell the disparate factions fighting over the Throne world. When all his enemies were vanquished he marched upon the palace district where the remnants of the Imperial family cowered. However, instead of seizing the throne for himself Arcturus Garan pledged himself and his army to the service of the remaining Empress and took the title of Lord Commander.

Together the Empress and Lord Commander began the process of rebuilding the Empire, first securing the home system, then bringing each of the wayward colonies back into the fold.

Five out of the original eight colonies have been absorbed back into the resurgent Empire. Only the systems of Noto, Higg and Kornen actively resist annexation. Together they have formed the NKH Defence Pact, or simply the Pact.

Now the Pact must guard its independence against the growing might of the New Raihan Empire. The odds are not in their favour, they are outnumbered and outgunned, but the Imperial Forces have not yet regained their full power and the war is not over yet…

((This quest is an indirect sequel to Space shipyard quest, knowledge of previous threads is not required but it will do much to add context. Previous threads can be found here: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=space+shipyard))

<span class="mu-i">Once upon a time, there was a stricken land where there was no such thing as day, nor morning, no sunrise or sunset, but endless dark. It was alone and obscure, on an island surrounded by waters as black as the sky. Yet the wind carried whispers of warmth and light, so the sad peoples of this land, intoxicated by the drink called hope, entreated their king to find the mythical sun and bring it to their lands. The king of the dark vowed to bring the morning to his people, and departed.

After five years, while the king did not return, the morning did come, with all of the light and warmth that could be dreamed of. Yet while the people were happy, the new king’s heir, his granddaughter the crown princess, was skeptical of this new light. So, she ventured over the dark waters towards the light, and finally, she found a great tower atop which burned a sun nothing like had been spoken of, nor what seemed to create the new day.

There she met her grandfather, and demanded of him the truth. Was there a sun, or no? Were they living in a day that was just night under a mask? Her elder, sad and weary, asked the simple question of if she could tell the difference. What distinguished the False Light from the Dawn?

She could not answer, and returned home, keeping the secret to her grave. Yet, friends and followers of Ange, what if the Dawn that comes is false? What if it is so convincing that none of us can tell it true? What if indeed, the facsimile created is the true one after all?</span>

-The Heresy of the False Light, Apocryphal Speech said to be performed by Disgraced Socalist and Disciple of Anton Ange, Aster Du Langue