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Game Master
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About Lessa

  • Title
    The Violet Guardian
  • Birthday 05/28/1992

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  • Guild Name
    The Tarot

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  1. "RUN!" Lessa froze mid-step, sole of her boot hovering inches from the earth. That's never a good shout. She held her breath, ignoring the pounding of her heart in her ears as she listened for a follow-up sound. In fact, the woman found herself squinting, as if it might somehow sharpen her hearing. At her side, Lessa's wolf familiar cocked his head, mimicking her strained expression. Though Riker's ears were much better than his companion's, both of them were able to hear the crashing of bodies through vegitation. "Come on," the woman commanded, drawing her sword from it's place on her back. Riker fell into step beside her, and together, the pair plunged back into the mist. The forest was one of Lessa's least favorite places, but rumors of a rare mob had drawn her back there. All thought of white stags were forgotten as the Guardian screeched to a halt, an enormous spider seeming to materialize directly in front of her. Uttering a soft curse of surprise, Lessa's gauntleted hand tightened around Scarecrow Sickle's hilt. It wasn't that she was afraid of spiders. In fact, Lessa didn't even dislike them. But this particular arachnid was large, and hell-bent on eating whatever it chased between the twisted, towering trees. Once Lessa made out the form of two players through the haze, instinct took hold. With matching snarls, Lessa and Riker lunged in tandem. As she poured power into Sickle, the enormous sword began to pulse, glowing a mean scarlet. The beam of light arched and slashed, and though the beast was fairly low-leveled, Lessa opted for her most devastating sword arts. By the time it burst into fluttering fractals, merging with the fog as it fell, Lessa's blue eyes were wide and wild. She was forced to take two calming breaths before turning to the players. "Are you guys okay?" @Elora @Recon
  2. "I've been really well," Lessa replied, turning to face Cordelia at the player's question. As always, the long, lean, white-haired beauty caused Lessa to stare for just a beat longer than usual. Fortunately, however, Lessa was beginning to get to know Cord better, on a personal level. She even wasn't intimidated by the woman anymore. Mostly. Suddenly struck with the urge to stand a little straighter, Lessa looked to Oscar just as he congratulated her. And what a well-timed congratulations it was. Like the sun emerging from behind the clouds, pride lit every inch of Lessa's expressive face. "Well thanks!" she replied, simply beaming. "It's a shame you beat me to it, but I got there eventually, and that's what really matters." Whatever jitters Cordelia's presence had caused were quickly chased away by the girl's boyfriend. Lessa had something of a soft spot for the man, and his easy, light-hearted way. And his cooking. And yeah, probably because he'd basically saved her butt on a baby quest when he'd been half her level. At least he only teased her a little bit. Lessa strode over, plopping into a seat beside NIGHT as the woman tossed her own congratulations into the mix. "Thanks so much," Lessa replied, shifting to face her dark-haired guild mate. "You're really coming along as well! You have to be close to level fifty yourself!" Genuine surprise danced in the Guardian's sea-blue eyes as the realization dawned. When had her friends grown so strong? It was as if she'd blinked, and they'd all caught up to her. Or passed me completely. I need to train more. Speaking of which. Pivoting atop her chair, Lessa crossed one leg over the other, then leaned forward eagerly. "I'm game," she answered. "I've actually only done a handful of quests, so basically everything is still available. Whatever you guys decide, I'll join you."
  3. "Oh," Lessa breathed, watching the tiny gryphon take flight, then land neatly atop the player's head. "I've never seen a familiar like that before." She grinned, first at the small creature, then at it's human companion. "It's just adorable. What's it's name?" Riker appeared equally intrigued, staring up at the gryphon with wide amber eyes. His tail thumped in short, rhythmic strokes behind him, a sign he was eager to get to know the familiar better. Of course, Lessa was a bit hesitant he might still end up eating the thing. The blonde nodded as the blush-haired beauty spoke. "I'm out here for the witch as well," she explained, "so I'd be more than happy to help out. I have a couple levels on you, so I don't think we'll be in any danger." Lessa reached down to absently shift the belts that lay criss-crossed across her broad hips. Then, with a nod of her head, she motioned down the path. As she began moving, she added, "I'm guessing you've never done this quest, then? I feel like everyone has already cleared out their quest log, and I've fallen behind or something." With a warm smile, Lessa added, "It'll be a nice change to run this with someone who doesn't know what to expect. It's like a mystery." Finally, the Guardian accepted the party invite. "Pleasure to meet you, Yuki. I'm Lessa." @Zajcica
  4. Lessa sucked in a breath as the serpent slammed into Snow. Despite years spent in Aincrad, terror still plagued her as she watched the fellow player smash lifelessly into the dune. A quick glance at the spearwoman's health bar revealed very little damage taken, which was something of a relief. Of course, it didn't work to entirely settle Lessa's galloping heart. Jaw working, Lessa's gaze shifted from Snow to their enemy. Both of the serpent's heads bobbed and weaved in the air, their piercing blue eyes glued to Snow's prone form. Cursing under her breath, the heavily armored woman began a slow jog closer to the creature. Each step threw her slightly off-balance, the fine grains of sand shifting beneath her boots. I hate the sand, she thought to herself for the umpteenth time. How many strikes had she missed due to the blasted desert terrain? She couldn't always count on her partner to pick up the slack. "Alkor," she called over her shoulder. "I wonder what happens if we take out one of it's heads." With that musing lingering in the hot air, Lessa once more activated <<Howl>>. The force of it blew her long hair back, and her robes flapped like the the canvas sails of a ship in a storm. "Over here!" she taunted, lifting Scarecrow's Sickle defiantly. "Come get me."
  5. Can I tell you something just between you and me? When I hear your voice, I know I'm finally free. Every single word is perfect as it can be, and I need you here with me. Spring filled the house. The riotous lilac bushes that surrounded Manderley exploded with color and scent, and their rich purple blooms beamed proudly from vases in every room. A far cry from the occasional chirp, the birds surrounding her home seemed to ramble on, a seemingly endless serenade. The underlying hum of insects provided the bass, accented by the sporadic croak of a wayward frog. Evening sun spilled through the countless windows, splashing across the tidy space, and setting the white furnishings aglow. If Lessa had seen anything so wonderful, so magical, she could not recall. "It's perfect," she breathed, "and it's mine." Disturbed by the sudden commentary, Riker opened a single eye to gaze wearily at his human. Sleep dulled the brilliant amber color, like perfectly aged whiskey, but it disappeared as the wolf got his bearings. Once he had, he smoothly found his feet, and padded over to Lessa. With a gentle nudge of her calf with his damp nose, he settled back on his haunches to study her expectantly. If she didn't know better, Lessa might have thought he was waiting for dinner. Instead, she suspected her familiar was waiting for something a little different. Sometimes, she swore the thing could not only understand her perfectly, but also read minds. "Alright, alright," she told him, her smile deepening the crows-feet at the corners of her sea-blue eyes. "I'll message him. But he might be busy, you know." The wolf's sneeze was so freakishly close to a scoff that Lessa laughed as she composed a new message.
  6. There was no transition, no shift from one scene to another - the stadium was just there, and then it wasn't. Lessa knelt atop the crystal-clear water, gaze on the hands resting limply atop her legs. Horror painted her face sheet-white as she gazed at where Alkor's body had been. "Does it-" she faltered, then tried again. "Does it get easier?" "No," replied the voices in near-perfect unison, once more violating her mind. "But you will get stronger." Silence sprawled, as endless as the sea, until Lessa finally heaved a heavy sigh. "Enough with the motivational poster BS," she muttered, still trembling as she climbed to her feet. The woman wrapped her arms around herself, and though the action provided little comfort, she remained like that for a long while. "I thought I was fighting demons, not friends." An uncomfortable swirling sensation filled her head, as if the presence there moved about before answering, "You are fighting the demons that held the most control over you when you met each individual." Lessa frowned. "What was Alkor then?" "Weakness," came the answer without pause. "Were you unable to see that for yourself?" "In the battle information?" Apparently, she hadn't paid enough attention during the fight itself. I'll be sure to check that out next time. Shaking her head, the Guardian continued. "But I don't understand." Mounting impatience leaked into her voice as she said, "Why do I have to fight the people themselves? Why can't I just fight the demon? What do they have to do with-" Further explanation, it seemed, would have to wait, as Lessa again tumbled into the ocean.
  7. Lessa

    [F04 - PP] Where do I Begin?

    "And you set out to be the one to stop him." There was something poetic in the fact that Bahr's journey concluded where their's had begun. Unfortunately, Lessa was not in the mood for appreciating such things. Instead, she stared at the monument's slick, reflective surface. Her gaze flicked across the nearby names, and though none said Pinball, the pit of her stomach still roiled. There was absolutely no reason for Bahr to lie about the multiple murders, especially when it was so easy to confirm for herself. And if that were true, it was likely he didn't lie about Kirbs' boyfriend, either. Besides, she trusted Bahr. Right? Her blue eyes slipped closed, and without sight, her warring emotions took center stage. Pinball had saved her, a completely undeniable fact. Yet perhaps she was giving the man far too much credit. Would she excuse Jack the Ripper if she learned he'd saved a life while killing so many others? Forgive Jeffrey Dahmer his sins because he might have had redeeming qualities? Why was her life worth more than those that Pinball had ended? What was it that carried the most weight, and better yet, why was it she who held the scales? What right did she have? How much goodwill can someone like that be afforded? Of course I trust him. Her eyes opened. All thought of Pinball's heroic rescue was shoved aside, locked away to be brought back out later. Or not. If she were to share the information with Bahr one day, it would be at a time when he might better process it. He didn't need any more on his plate, and god only knew that she didn't want to be the one to break him. Bahr mattered. Kirbs mattered. She, and the rest of Pinball's victims deserved better than Lessa's excuses. Pinball may have had his reasons, but so did Bahr, and she was beginning to understand them. Lessa's first instinct was to turn Bahr away from the monument, a fruitless attempt at distraction, but something stopped her. Instead, Lessa slipped her arm inside her best friend's jacket and around his waist, taking up her post beside him. "I can't pretend to know what you're going through," she finally told him, looking back to the perfectly etched name of Bahr's lost companion. "And I don't really know what to say. What I do know is that you're not a monster." She paused for a moment, allowing her words to sink in, before she added, "For any of it. Not for what you said to Kirbs, not for the way you two left things, not for the fact she's dead, and not for what you almost did to Pinball." Without even recognizing the action, Lessa's hand groped for something to hold, before clutching a bit of his shirt's loose fabric. "I saw something that I wasn't meant to see, and I didn't understand it. I probably still don't, so I'm not going to say that I do. None of my friends were killed by other players, so I have no idea I would have done in your shoes." Her voice trailed, and she fell silent for a moment before she circled back around. "But you aren't a monster, and I'm not afraid of you. I just - well, I want you to know that."
  8. Lessa

    [F04 - PP] Where do I Begin?

    Pinball cut down Kirbs’ boyfriend in cold blood? And for no reason whatsoever? The concept clashed so completely with what she knew of the man, and a part of her longed to say as much. There must be more to the story, she nearly said, the words dancing on the tip of her tongue. But she pressed her lips together, drawing them into a paper-thin line as Bahr continued his tale. Arguing with him would be both inappropriate and insensitive. Instead, Lessa clenched her jaw, drawing in a deep breath through her nose, and squeezing back when she felt his hand tighten on hers. ”I’m grateful he didn’t kill you that day,” she eventually commented, then regretted it immediately. What a lackluster reply to such devastating news; it was the real-life equivalent of replying to an important text message with “k.” So the blonde turned, watching the clouds drift across the lake’s mirror-sheen surface. A fish leaped, splashed down again, and waves of shimmering sunlight rippled out in seemingly endless circles. It was beautiful, but not to Lessa. Not in that moment, for though she watched it all, her mind was somewhere else entirely. She saw the lakeside as Bahr described it, and the brush with death he’d received there. She saw a frozen clearing, where he’d nearly dealt the final blow himself. She saw a boy In the shadow of a towering monument, reaching for comfort. Reaching for her. Now she reached for him, placing her other hand gently on his shoulder. “I’d suspected you had your reasons,” she told him, “even back then. Something had to motivate you to fight so hard. I figured it had to do with what you saw on the Monument that day but now-“ Her voice trailed, and she realized she wasn’t entirely sure how to end that train of thought. “Well, it makes more sense.”
  9. Lessa hadn't expected to enjoy the Guild Hall as much as she did. She had her own home, a house she absolutely loved, so she didn't really need the real estate. Plus, the cost of the hall was, in Lessa's mind, astronomical; she'd been more than a little embarrassed to watch Bahr cover the lion's share. Frankly, she'd encouraged the purchase simply because of the buffs it provided, and she hadn't planned to spend any time there. She'd been pleasantly surprised. There was something wonderful about hanging out in the House of Cards, and running into your best friends as they came and went. The hall provided a place for Lessa to socialize, without the stress of taverns or parks, and the crowds that lurked there. In fact, spending time there was a bit like being in a dorm in college. The camaraderie was something she didn't even know she had needed. Plus, she could just lie on the couch, listening to the voices that filled the halls, and know she was safe. She was safe, and happy, and a part of something larger than herself. That was worth all the col in the game. As the now-empty wrapper of her chocolate bar burst into pixels, Lessa rolled off the plush sofa and onto her feet. Voices carried - Oscar and NIGHT, if she weren't mistaken - but she couldn't make out what they were saying. Finally, the blonde had reached the point when her curiosity was simply too strong. Following the sound of discussion, she eventually popped her head into the Training Room. "Howdy," she greeted warmly, lifting a hand for a quick wave. "Would you guys mind an audience?"
  10. Instinctively, Lessa opened her mouth to politely reject the accuracy food, and thank him for the kind offer. The words were nearly formed, perched on the tip of her tongue, before realization struck. Her jaw clamped shut, lips smacking with an audible slap before pursing with distaste. "I see what you did there," she muttered, only partially feigning insult. She had made an absolute fool of herself the first time she'd met Oscar, allowing the far lower-level player to carry her through a pitifully simple quest. Even more upsetting had been the performance itself. How many times in a row could one person whiff it? Slipping on the sand might have been an okay excuse once, but good lord, she'd practically made failing into an Olympic sport. But Lessa wasn't the sort to hold onto those negative emotions for long. At least, not anymore. So she loosed a casual shrug, and shot back, "Apology accepted, but there will come a day when I save your ass, and I reserve the right to give you hell for it afterwards." For the second time in nearly as many minutes, Oscar left Lessa speechless. Spiders? Pockets? "I- I guess I'd never really put that much thought into it," she confessed. "No, not even 'that much' thought. I've committed exactly zero brain power to where the mobs keep their loot." Reaching up to rub at the bridge of her nose, Lessa added, "But now I figure I'll be asking myself that same question every time I kill something. So, yeah, thanks for that." She grinned over at him. "You're an odd one. I see why Cordelia enjoys your company so much." At his mention of grinding, the blonde nodded her agreement. "I'm honestly way behind when it comes to quest completion. Most level fives have done more than I have, and its for precisely that reason - it's boring alone. I hardly ever solo anything, because it just puts me in a bad mood. I'm really glad I have people like you to run through things with." "You ready to get mobbed by a bunch of munchkins?" Though it hardly seemed possible, her smile grew. "Absolutely."
  11. In the ten minutes since they'd left Rig, neither player had spoken. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but she wouldn't go so far as to label it companionable, either. Instead, Lessa simply deemed the quiet a necessary evil. A trench ran between herself and Alkor, and bridging it entirely proved difficult. Of course, progress had been made, as they no longer stared at each other across the Grand Canyon. But years apart, preceded by months of misunderstandings, left the once-best-friends on rocky ground. We can figure this out, she decided, cutting the dark-haired boy a sideways glance. If he wants to. But nothing is going to be the way it used to be. And honestly, that was likely a good thing. Neither she nor Alkor would benefit from resorting back to their old ways, even if it would make shoe-horning a friendship easier. Instead, the pair was forced to rebuild from the ground up. Likely, they would be stronger because of it. "This is a really low-level quest," she mused aloud, finally shattering the silence, "so it's easy experience. We'll knock it out real quick, and-" Lessa's voice trailed as movement up ahead caught and held her attention. Blue eyes squinting, she stated, "Oh, looks like someone beat us to it." Typically, Lessa would allow the party to finish their fight, then jump in herself when the mob respawned. She was content to do so this time, but tendrils of unease licked at the back of her mind. "Something doesn't seem right," she heard herself mutter, unconsciously putting voice to her thoughts. Concern etched across her flushed face, the woman eased Scarecrow's Sickle off her back even as she jogged nearer. "Hey," she called out tentatively. Armed, and decked-out in full heavy armor, was not Lessa's preferred type of arrival. But the fist of unease clenched around her heart prompted her to ask, "Can I give you a hand?" The nod came like a green light on a dragstrip. Lessa exploded into action, positioning herself between the other player and the mythical monstrosity. Throwing her arms wide, Lessa activated <<Howl>>. Her eyes glowed eerily, green light blasting back from the soles of her brown boots. "Eyes on me," she barked, squaring off against the Amphis Serphens.
  12. This quest is way too low level for me. The blonde studied the quest information as she walked, the grass crunching pleasantly underfoot. Really, she should have knocked the quest out years ago. Why not, when it was on the same floor that her house was? She had no excuse, and yet, Lessa had found dozens of reasons not to track down the Witch of the West. The primary reason? Lessa hated the Wizard of Oz. No, honestly, "hated" was an understatement. There was not a single thing about that entire story that she thought was okay. She despised the songs, the story, the munchkins, and oh god did she despise the flying monkeys. This was going to be a real challenge of will, and frankly, she'd been less anxious walking into a battle against a floor boss. So engrossed in her HUD, Lessa nearly strode right off the path. Riker, her trusty wolf familiar, carefully positioned himself at her side. With a gentle bump of her leg, he steered his human back in the right direction. When another voice carried, however, the creature's ears melted into his head. A low, guttural growl of warning finally grabbed Lessa's attention. "What is-" she began. Then, catching sight of the blush-haired player, she quickly put two and two together. Smiling, Lessa lifted a gauntlet-covered hand in greeting. "Hey there. You killing the witch, too?" @Zajcica
  13. Lessa

    [PP - F3] The Cult of the Dragon

    Her companion's soft chuckle elicited a smile of her own. The expression was slight, the smallest sliver of silver moon in a black-velvet sky, but it held light nonetheless. It would be easy enough to attribute the statement to Alkor's dark, brooding tendencies. But the truth was that some days, being alive really was enough. She could hardly fault the dark-haired swordsman for finding himself in a rut, even on a day so beautiful. Lessa tilted her head back, turning her face to the sun like a flower seeking it's warmth. Then she clicked her tongue. "Can't be all bad," she agreed, though she never looked at him. "Lot of people can't say the same these days, so it's always good to keep things in perspective." She paused to shake out her blonde hair, then twisted it over her shoulder in a quick, practiced motion. Alkor seemed... tired. He didn't yawn, the obvious indicator, but there was something distant in his actions. Not apathy, Lessa decided, and that was something. He wasn't ignoring her, or dismissing her, as he'd occasionally done before. He was just.... thoughtful. And as that was an enormous step up from apathetic, Lessa didn't mind. "I'm good," she answered, finally turning to face him. "I'm better than I have been in a long time.
  14. Lessa

    [PP - F3] The Cult of the Dragon

    "Great," she answered with a small nod, then began the short walk to the teleportation gate. She moved slowly at first, lengthening her stride only when she felt him fall into step beside her. Months had passed since their last dragon hunt, but the distance between them felt even wider than that. The irony wasn't lost on her, as she'd gone years without seeing him once before - what were a few measly months? But after their strained interactions during the Obsidian Invasion, Lessa wasn't entirely sure how the day would progress. It didn't help that, every time she looked at him, she recalled the feel of his blood-drenched body in her arms. She heard the words he'd spat at her, their truth as explosive as the pain from his blade. She remembered the lesson he'd taught her. Is that damn Calming the Soul quest going to haunt me forever? "So," she began conversationally, "how have you been?"
  15. Humming with pleasure at the use of her nickname, Lessa gave Bahr's midsection a quick squeeze. "Getting stuck here forever wouldn't be so bad," she mused, mock thoughtfulness in her tone. "I mean, the company isn't terrible, and we're right here when the banshee respawns." She slanted him an upward glance, smirking a bit, before adding, "We could do the whole floor a favor by constantly ridding the place of the menace. We'd be heroes." As they emerged into the cavern once more, leaving behind the stink of decay of the jail, Lessa drew in a long breath. Despite the outrageous circumstances, the couple hours they'd spent together had been... nice. Normal, even, though that was a ridiculous notion. Was fighting a banshee and her zombie friends with a wolf, a teeny swine, and a goofy swordsman was her new definition of 'the norm?' What a strange world, Lessa marveled, enjoying the feel of Bahr's fuzzy PJs on her cheek when she leaned into him. "We'll find our way home, one way or another."