File: SATQ #2 no audio.webm (602 KB, 1280x1080)

602 KB WEBM

Sing, goddess, of thirsty Argos, and of the glory of Hippomedon Aristomachides - sing of the folly of Adrastus, of the savagery of Tydeus and of Oedipal transgressions! Sing, O Muse, of Zeus’ designs, which even now come to fulfillment…

File: Threadop.png (4.19 MB, 1801x1800)

4.19 MB PNG

In times past, giants walked the earth. Now, they shall awaken and walk again.

The first nuclear weapon detonated in 1945, showering the earth in radiation that had gone unseen for millions of years. The opening of Pandora's Box led to countless explosions, twice against man, and many more in barren deserts and oceanic depths. As the crust of the planet became charged with energy once more, ancient things began to stir.

You play as one of these creatures: A young Kaiju, awakened by radiation and ready to feed on it. As one of many who are emerging into existence, the time has come for you and your ilk to reclaim your rightful place as the rulers of Earth.

File: 0.png (2 KB, 274x202)

2 KB PNG

You're a stick with a witches hat. Your name is Mazela. You're a queen of the witches forest.

>Stick around
>Become a bigger stick
>Grow other stick parts
>Other

File: Heretic Cultivator - Copy.jpg (475 KB, 1920x1080)

475 KB JPG

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
_

You are Huanliuxue (欢流血, Happy Bloodshed/ Happy to Shed Blood), She who touched and dyed the moon red, the rightful ruler of and most impressive amongst all beasts, the heir to the primordial throne of true primordial nobility, an popular amateur writer, the founder and first and current grand master of the palace of natural laws sect (宫殿的野生彝宪, Gōngdiàndīyěshēngyíxiàn) and creator of the cultivation technique following the dao of ghosts and grudges, there heretical art of the Ruler of the Great Wheel's Law(统治者的这重大轮回法律, Tǒngzhìzhědīzhèzhòngdàlúnhuífǎl), and you are also the rightful monarch of the kingdom of the buried army of those who dared oppose the order of the heavens, the aggressors and only victims of the bloodless war, a kingdom of graves, tombs and quiet catacombs filled to brim with vengeful spirits, hungry ghosts and ancient warriors turned phantom calamities.

However, the king who has lost his name and been forgotten by all outside of his cursed followers and soldiers trapped beneath the now split mountain you claimed and marked as your own years ago, still holds most of the lands of one of your rightful domain. And while it is but one of the many kingdoms and titles that are rightfully yours, the forgotten king and his toadies have earned your ire and enmity through all the wrongs they have committed against you and yours. They tried to attack you while you were in deep meditation and refining the ghostly essence saturating the tomb kingdom, and during your student's valiant defense of your cultivation chamber, one of those brute's cursed one of poor Qiang's eyes, forcing her to tear it out herself! And since everyone, men and beast alike, mistake her for your daughter, you may as well pay them back for that injury as if she truly was from a litter of yours! And that isn't to mention the insults the governor of his that you've been using like a caged canary and footstool has spat your way. And still is. Even though Yin Zhao has been your prisoner for quite some time, he hasn't once wept or wailed pathetically with the other loyalists you keep caged to sing you pretty and sorrowful songs while you hold court and appease your subjects by alleviating the agony of their wretched and cursed existence trapped here beneath the earth. Not quite in hell, but certainly not alive.

Subjects who are now braying and barking for "blood" and vengeance, the fury they feel towards their former leader for getting them trapped in this sorry state driving them all into a frenzy, even those who are usually cool headed, composed and mostly sane after the long centuries confined here by the heavens' spite.
Cont

File: Worlds Finest.jpg (1.76 MB, 1293x2000)

1.76 MB JPG

>>5970571
>Art: Dan Mora
>Alt-Text: Comic cover of The Riddler in the foreground. In the background, cut out newspaper letters spell “Riddle Me This” while Superman and Batman leap into action in front of a maze.

Batman: Superman! You have to fight it!
Ivy: The sun doesn’t fight. It feeds.

Clark starts glowing as a field of flowers spawns in a ring around him. The parks shudder and flexes, the ground itself pulsating.

Batman: You are stronger than this! Stronger than most people! You landed on a world of hate and violence and chose to make it better. It doesn’t matter if she’s sapping your energy. Your real power is your will!

Your ally grits his teeth, Failsafe buzzes in your ear about magnetic waves but it doesn't have to bother. You can taste electricity in the air. Leaves rustle, but this is no wind.

Sfx: SBOOOMMSHH!!


Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.

File: p15.png (8 KB, 650x450)

8 KB PNG

Previous thread: >>5952601

The weird thing that came out of the wall can talk. It tells you that she was just in a room like this, and asks you where she is.

File: Kulx2.jpg (1.82 MB, 3984x3928)

1.82 MB JPG

The great hosts of chaos marched towards Karag Dum. Thousands, tens of thousands made their way towards the ancient ruins of a proud dwarven bastion that had held out for so long. Its cannons had roared, its mithril clad warriors had cut and hewn and cleaved and shot the warriors of chaos. Its forges churned out endless suits of armor, countless weapons, endless stockpiles of bolts. Its mighty walls, placed atop a lone mountain domineered over the landscape, the towers seeming to pierce the very sky and disturb the gods above. And for that, it had to fall. The dwarves fought, and yet, they had fallen to the hordes of chaos. Despoiled, ravaged, raped, as all lands ought to be, sooner or later.
You had never seen the Karag before. And now, only crumbled ruins remained. Maybe, the next time you visit it, it won’t be so far in the future, for the crumbled walls and broken towers more remind you of the rotten jaws of a warhound than of a proud bastion overrun by brave soldiers of Chaos.
As you crest the bleak ocher hill, you see what you long expected. Beneath a burning orange sky, a gathering of armies, warbands and hosts. Spitting on the ground and uttering a oath, then continue forwards, order your host to make camp while you head for the centre of the gathering, towards the lone tent overlooking the countless hordes.
As soon as you step in front of the tent and try peering inside, you feel a shove from behind. Tumbling forwards and already drawing your weapon out, you turn to strike at your assailant, but to no avail, as you fall through the tent flaps, which close shut behind you. A cleave at them leaves your blade harmlessly bouncing from the magical cloth. A rough chuckle emerges from behind you.
“Another one!” A Hung chief laughs. “Settle in friend. We all wait long.”
A quick scan of the massive tent reveals a impressive gathering of warlords, chiefs and champions, of Kurgan, Hung and Beastmen types, all eyeing each other with doubt, suspicion and spite. Yet, all keep their weapons by their belts. They must have been here for long in order to have relaxed so much in such company. A moment of thinking later, you choose to follow their lead, but keeping your gaze on a bestigor with a head crowned with 3 pairs of horns.
You think of speaking to the mob, yet before you can, a female voice booms in the room. “You won’t wait for any more.”
In a flash of motion, every blade is drawn and more than twice that many eyes are anxiously glancing around the tent.
“A whispering on the steppes had called you all here.” The strange cloaked figure spoke as it appeared in the center.
Within a moment, the champions and warlords and reaves and warriors all surrounded the figure, distrustful of each other, but afraid of the figure that just appeared between them.
“I called you here.” The figure continued, concealed by the dancing shadows too thick to be natural. “I called you here so that you may wage war upon the southlands.”

File: 1703183477934837.jpg (463 KB, 2000x1221)

463 KB JPG

"Wake up." You open your eyes to the familiar, yet always somewhat imposing, stone walls of your room in Blackthorn Keep. Your name is Caden Blackthorn, the eldest son and heir of Lord Edric Blackthorn and his dear wife Lady Agatha. At fourteen, the weight of your future responsibilities as the lord of Blackthorn Keep already presses on your shoulders, a constant, if not entirely unwelcome, companion.
The morning sun barely filters through the narrow window, casting long shadows that dance across the floor. You rise, the cool stone beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed you reluctantly leave behind.
Today, unlike most days filled with the rigorous studies and training expected of a lord's heir, promises a brief respite. It's the day of the Autumn Festival, a day when the entire keep and the surrounding villages come alive with music, laughter, and the scent of fresh harvests.

>A) A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you, leaving you with the eerie feeling that this moment has unfolded before.
>B) Fragments of a half-forgotten dream flash through your mind, hinting at terrible things on the horizon.
>C) Memories of another life, filled with a decade of pain and heartbreaks, the adventures of a prodigal son, flood your consciousness vividly.
>D) Your mind is clear, with a focus solely on the present, unburdened by the past.

File: 0a249bfc-7f97-4a13-8150-7(...).jpg (55 KB, 600x400)

55 KB JPG

You're a modern Western man who was transported to 1600's Japan. What isekai powers did you get?
>High stats
>Save scumming
>Other

File: disputation of the holy walt.png (108 KB, 2800x2800)

108 KB PNG

Your name is WALTER HARTWELL WHITE. You have just woken up after your 50TH birthday. It's time to go to the hospital.

File: pap_op.jpg (34 KB, 563x729)

34 KB JPG

One day, while searching the woods for a sparrow to crack with your pocket of stones, you come across a small cave at the base of a mossy hill. It smells like wet stone inside but as you venture deeper, you get whiffs of an odor like the one that hangs over the village cemetery on dry summer days.

It is then you see it. There is a man sitting against the cave wall, his legs outstretched. Sleeping, you think. The light from the mouth of cave is not enough to make out his face and hailing him does not rouse him from his slumber. You inch closer. A rusty gauntlet glints from his hand, resting just above his knees. You reach out to shake his shoulder and small mouse jumps out from his head and runs into the darkness making you yelp and jump back. You can make out now a white skull, picked clean of all flesh, and masses of cobwebs in the hollows. A cruel black arrow sticks out from the man's belly. He is most certainly not sleeping.

In the other hand, you see a leather scabbard clutched close to the chest. It is with a great effort that you wrench it from the chewed fingers. It is covered in dust and smells vaguely of rat droppings, but the blade inside, when you draw it out, is as sharp and shiny as the day it was forged. You've never seen anything so fine.

>What do you do?
[ ] Show the blade to your father, it'll surely fetch a fair price at the market, and your family will be glad for the coin.
[ ] Hide the blade inside your tunic and present it to the old watchman, Delaney Halfhand. Perhaps he'll teach you how to use it.
[ ] Wear the sword on your back and swagger triumphantly to the village well, showing it off to the other boys. You can't wait to see the green in Thomas Bishop's eyes!
[ ] Other

File: esoterica7.png (6.43 MB, 3898x3949)

6.43 MB PNG

Old Maple Hill. That’s what they call it, mostly because that’s what you called it, and even then only because it is centered around... Well, a small hill, with an old maple tree, and you were a child, and you never thought it would be the center of an entire community.

Funny how things change.

Your name is Ezreal Mious Van Houtzmann. ‘Mious’ means ‘wisdom’ in the language of your mother's people, the Sylvan Elves of Dappulyet, whom you may never see or visit again; you can only hope she got your last letter, before you fled your homeland in the pursuit of world peace and personal freedom (it’s a long story). “Van Houztmann” is your human father’s surname... Well, sort of. He was born merely ‘Rudolfo Houtzman’, and seems to have added the ‘van’ and the extra ‘n’ as some form of dramatic flourish. You adopted it much later. It means ‘of the strong men’. Despite all your hereditary strength and wisdom, however, sometimes you feel like a leaf on the wind—a summoned wind, a night-wind, generated by the beating of great wings beating in the unseen dark.

Under your stewardship—and that of Izirina and Costella Fanucci, the women whom you love—Old Maple Hill became first a sort of sanctuary and rehabilitation center for those humans of Hawksong—the world’s preeminent metropolis—who had been afflicted by the chimeric plague better known as ‘the dragon-pox'. As a reward for your good works, your trio was granted the hill itself and the land around it was gifted to you in trust, to preserve and protect in the name of the fairy court upon that eponymous hill. After a year-and-a-half abroad—first in homeland and then upon the sacred moon itself!—you returned with divine knowledge of the holy arcane, to share with those grateful and newly-sorcerous subjects of Hawksong who had decided to remain there. Partly this was out of pride, and out of solidarity with Izzy and Costella, and partly due to a sense of responsibility for what you had wrought.

More and more, though, you wonder if you really had any say at all...

Almost four months ago, you undertook a diplomatic expedition to the Sylvan Realms to rescue the monstrous son of Hawksong’s prince Cosnort—secretly some form of ‘aragonborn antipaladin’ in service to the Gods of Darkness. You hadn’t done this out of any love for those horrid entities, or even the Prince Consort or her majesty Queen Ekaterine, but because you believed it the best way to keep the peace between your peoples.

You’d succeeded, but at a great cost.

File: witch-fantasy-art-uhdpape(...).jpg (90 KB, 914x514)

90 KB JPG

You're Mazela, the queen of the witches. You live in a hut standing on chicken legs deep in the forest and use your psychic powers to defend women who have been abused by men. Today the miller's wife has come to you with a black eye. "My husband beats me when he is drunk," she cries about her abusive husband. How do you help her?

>>Grant her psychic powers to enslave her abusive husband.
>>Teach her a curse to kill her abusive husband so she can find someone better.
>>Write In

File: grape flavor.png (300 KB, 3000x2000)

300 KB PNG

>After many moons, the Narrator returns from actions which would make the most homo of fags tremble.
>The Narrator, that amorphous blight, will not divulge into this further. Spinel's world has enough faggotrous activities at present.
>GRAPE FLAVOUR is back and has undergone slight mutation in how to play.
>GUIDELINES;
>Players will submit suggestions they'd like to see!
>Narrator will choose ONE suggestion out of all sent to guide the direction of the quest.
>Narrator may take handful of suggestions at any time to present for a vote to decide how we progress.
>You are currently Spinel and last we saw you had been presented some options....
https://archived.moe/qst/thread/5707323
>Dig yourself a hole and crawl into it in the feral position
>Was there any cool and strange technology Pink Diamond left behind? Go press some buttons
>What will you do?

File: Duel on the Front.png (3.14 MB, 1920x1080)

3.14 MB PNG

The tides of history have called upon the line of Marik once more to remove an imposter from our country’s throne. I call upon all patriots, at home or abroad, and ask that they rise against the Empress. So with iron and blood, we may reclaim our future from the hands of a mad despot. So that their children, and their children’s children can live in a secure, safe world.
-Jaime Marik, Patriot’s Address

The Ferrum Empire has descended into Civil War. The weapons built to subjugate the world and decisively crush their neighbors are instead turned inwards.

You are one of those weapons. Beta Core, an Artificial Intelligence built to operate the Empire’s most advanced mech frames against their enemies in tandem with a human pilot. Only together with a pilot, can you move the frame, merging the raw processing power and reflexes of an AI with the knowledge and restraint of a human.

This mission, your pilot is a teenager named Sophie.

You, along with your AI sister Delta, currently are operating for the Patriots. Your other sister, Gamma, is presumably operating for the Loyalists, but you are uncertain of her whereabouts.

Prior threads can be found at:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Core%20of%20Steel%20Quest
—-----


Comment too long. Click here to view the full text.