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"-alla nostra" As the man placed the bottle back into the nest of grass Mari grabbed it. Alla Nostra Huh? An odd notion between two strangers, but none Mari would take nonetheless. She took another long drink from the bottle and let the liquid sit in her mouth, washing away the final pungent fruity nectar of the chartreuse. Mari swallowed, and it burned as it fell down her throat and settled in her stomach. Mari inhaled slowly and closed her eyes. Enjoying the moment. The sun was warm, the air smelt loamy, like fresh earth. Even if it was tinged with hints of sulfur and burnt charcoal

Watching on his peripheral the moment she opened her inventory, gauging each and every motion. Ready to spring up and create chaos if she opened up that little friends log of hers. But instead she dug through a pile of random crap in a massive list denoting her inventory. This was why he stuck to pockets, which equated to quick slots that allowed him to find it. A flash of blue light and a bottle appears, a squared thing in a rich brownish gold. As she'd uncork it and offer it in the space, he'd lean down and pluck it up in a limp hand. The cigarette smoking as it hung from his lips, he'd pass

"Ugh, no offense Angioletto, but is syrup." Mari snorted, then laughed. "Yeh. No shit. Hang on." She opened up her menu - where was it...Ah... Mari had originally been saving it for when, if ever Oikawa had returned...but...she began to doubt that would ever happen. Now, Mari was just waiting to her about his name being on the monument of life. Whiskey. "The best way to describe this...ahhh...Sullivans Cove?" Mari inquired. It was a brand of Whiskey, back in the real world. Expensive. Very. Known for being incredibly smooth with hints of floral vanilla. Then ending with a hint of malt.

The paladin yawned heavily as she received the late night message. Couldn't they ever decide to message all the frontliners at noon or something? Oh well, her duty called. Time to keep all those frontliners alive. She was sure they could handle themselves without her but having more bodies, especially those who specialize a tank definitely wouldn't hurt. So the Paladin showed up at the assigned meet spot at the allocated time. Some people had beaten here there. A few who were in her party too. Of course Freyd was already here, he was in her party this time as her off-tank. He brought with

Reaching out and taking the bottle by the neck, he'd pull the cigarette out and down a mouthful. The taste immediately caused some bone in his body to jump to refusal. He'd cough almost dropping the chartreuse, quickly handing it back to her. "Ugh, no offense Angioletto, but is syrup." taking his hand he'd rub it on his tongue, finding the salt a fair counter balance to it. She clearly wasn't joking. The man rubs his hand on the tree at his back, running his tongue around in his mouth to dilute the taste. "Burned through the last of my whiskey about an hour ago, now I am filled with....regret.

Don't mind sharing Amore? Little parched over here." Huh Mari straightened her back at the thick accent. Italian? Mari blinked. Crap…she knew some Italian - she knew a lot of phrases in a lot of languages. Linguistics…Language…Science…the violin… all things she loved. Instead of failing to introduce herself in Italian Mari pulled a second small bottle out of her casque, handing the man the entire bottle. “It’s frustratingly sweet.” Mari said. “I’d rather something like whiskey, but this was free.” Mari would never be one to knock a free gift. She hadn’t realized th

The gentle rustling of grass immediately put the man on edge, unfurling his fingers and shoving the many rings on his fingers closer to his palms as he made a gesture like he was popping his knuckles. Back pressed to a large oak tree, he was under the understanding that he would have been left well enough alone out this far. Tapping at his chest as he'd look out toward the direction of the sound, the moment he hones in on it he notices the little floating icon of an orange player. At least it wasn't going to be that annoying, as normally they'd just flee to the town like little mice the moment

Floor 11… Taft The place Mari broke her creed. Her decision to never willingly step into a town with her orange cursor. Yet here she was again - on the outskirts. A half hour walk from the large, thriving city - and yet - not a soul was nearby. Rarely anyone walked this far out. Why would they when they could just fucking teleport? Mari didn’t really have that luxury, she only had the one crystal left and needed it for the upcoming boss fight. With her current status, there was no real way to just wander into a city and buy another. Friends would have spares, probably. Maybe.

Floor 10 Mari was kneeling over the bioluminescent lake on the 10th floor. Staring into its deathly still surface. It looked so inviting in a way - mystical almost. The shimmers reflecting on the surface reminded her of all manner of fairy tales one was told as a child. But, that was a lie. Most often - the pretty things in the world - were the most dangerous. This was no different. Mari would sit against the wall sometimes, and watch creatures wander in, never to return. She had a feeling she knew what was in it. At least in theory. The water was stagnant. There was no telling wha

The dimly lit altar of red velvet, with lights that drew brightly across a stage. A dreary eyed player fumbles into consciousness after quite the night in a bottle. The first thing she notices is her arms bound tightly to the chair she was sat in, one like many in cascading rows on both sides of her. Ropes coiled around her wrists and upper arm in multiple wrappings to confirm security. They scrunch as the girl pulls against them, and with horror she tries to cry for help. Instead she'd discover the handful of cloth jammed into her mouth and affixed there with a ring of leather. Only her eyes

PH Mari | HP: 960/960 | EN: 130/130 | DMG: 21 | MIT:44 | ACC:5 | AA | EVA:4 | BH:53 | BLI: 32/-20 | ENV-O: 32 | PARA-V | LD:1 Name: Mari True Tier: 10 Level: 34 Paragon Level: 61 HP: 960/960 EN: 130/130 Stats: Damage: 21 Mitigation: 44 Accuracy: 5 Evasion: 4 Battle Healing: 53 Loot Die: 1 Stealth Rating: 5 AA BLI: 32/-20 ENV-O: 32 PARA-V Equipped Gear: Weapon/Armor/Trinket: - Paralytic Contagion | T4 | Absolute ACC I | Paralytic Venom I | Envenom OFF I | Blight I Armor/Trinket: - Infernal Shadow-Redemption | T4 | EVA

“Sorry.” Mari accepted Acanthus’ paper-thin excuse quietly, a wounded acceptance marred by the dark thoughts moving across her face. Shit. Shit shit shit. The excuse was terrible, but she had still hoped. Acanthus opened her mouth to explain herself. It’s me. I’m a jumpy idiot. I really am sorry. But they had already moved on. Mari took one last swig of the fruit juice before Acanthus polished it off and swapped over to sake. She enjoyed her own cup slowly while Kat spoke to Mari. “Not every day you run into someone so striking off the beaten path like this.” Acanthus sputtered

...not smack? * * * Post Action: Grindstone Reduces search time for boss. 5 Posts -> 2 Posts.

A smile pulled at the corners of Katoka's mouth as everyone arrived one by one. She reached out and traded grips with Wulfrin, the man that had changed so much in such a short amount of time. Even since the fight with Callisto he had become someone that anyone in Aincrad could rely on. Freyd had complimented them both, giving the samurai a swelling sense of pride in her chest. Of everyone that was here he had changed the most of course, having brushed so close to death. She pouted as he mussed her hair, making sure to dig her elbow into his ribs despite the armor. She still smiled, she wouldn'

*ready to heal the boss become as gods What the fuck am I here for again?* Buffs MIT III - His gungnir DOTE III - Tiger Balm he got from Lessa last raid Non-craft Field Ration = +16% (Filled) Max HP Immolation = +40 Thorn Consumables available for anyone Gungnir | T4 MIT III FEAST | 5/6 uses Stats

The sound of steam, the overwhelming smell of coffee fills the house. A repeated chime of her HUD, Sam had figured out how to put a timer on her coffee pot and a alarm to go off everyday at 5 am. The blanket is thrown off her head, she lays there staring at the ceiling blinking every few second. With a deep inhale and a slow out puff with her lips formed into a tiny little oval. A few minutes pass, throwing the covers off and hopping out of bed the minute she hears the machine downstairs ding to say it's done. Making her bed really fast and running out of the room, down the black carpeted stai

The blazing heat roared on in an overclocked display of candlelight. Windows break and wood burns as the heat continued to rise. The man stood idle with a cold inflection as he enjoyed watching on as it would dance for him. NPC's come barreling out of it, shrieking in a panicked state unsure how to respond. Fumbling and falling to their knees, some losing their footing and rolling to a gentle stop. The fleshy smell would cause most to be sick to their stomach, but Lancaster found it mildly amusing. Taking the bottle of whiskey clutched by the neck in his left hand to his lips, a remainder of w

The rasping wretch reared back, all remaining chain whips ready to lash and bludgeon Wulfrin to pieces for his boasting, no matter how warranted. What should have been a danger had proven little challenge for the two of them, its health bar clinging to hope with the thinnest of cellophane. Ready to heave, the Pallid Mask's hood suddenly jerked back exposing a mess of rotten flesh once called its head, the worst of it concealed behind a grimacing porcelain face. Yanked roughly, it teetered, all four arms flailing and failing to find purchase as it fell backward toward the greetings of a keen

"But I'm faster," Wulfrin grinned as The Pallid Mask moved to intercept him. Wulfrin's blade was bright with the familiar stunning sword art granted to just about every player in Aincrad, assuming they maxed their weapon skill. Wulfrin bobbed and weaved between lashes from the undead horror's many arms. His foe was quick, but not fast enough as his blade plunged into the shadowy mass. The Pallid Mask stumbled back, its attack successfully halted by the technical specialist. Wulfrin planted his feet and readied his blade as the health bar dropped to a sliver. "Aw come on," Wulfrin huf

Wulfrin had invited her to a last minute boss run with Katoka and Freyd. Definitely a team that would be unforgettable. Their target was the Floor 29 boss, the Midnight Ripper, and while the name alone would make most players shudder, Ciela wasn’t as nervous as she might’ve been. Freyd had apparently soloed the boss before, which gave her a strange sort of reassurance. If anything, she was just happy to be included, to matter enough to be invited into a squad like this. She hadn’t seen Katoka since the wedding, and now that she thought about it, she really missed her. Life had been a whir

"That would be Reliq," Freyd replied, watching as the gaunt horror resumed its movements to the clink and clatter of bells and chains. "Elora and I found him in my workshop, playing in all the unidentified gear I keep laying around." He left out the bit about how Elora had freaked out, thinking their home was somehow haunted because of all his clandestine puttering around. It had taken nearly a week to clear out all the anti-voodoo tchotchkes she'd layered all over the place. "I think he's some sort of mimic, but can't get him to sit still long enough to be sure." A flash of deep blue

"Ditto," Wulfrin added as he quickly spun around, celestial steel blade ready to strike. "Who or whatever you are." Wulfrin's blade arced through the air towards the frantically waving four armed figure before them. The Blade of Zariel's holy aura caused a blinding surge of radiance as it clashed with the monster's hide, amplified by the divine light of Wulfrin's crystal. In an instant the eldritch horror grave keeper's health bar depleted. From the skies above, Wulfrin's familiar Solaris got in on the action, raking talons across the mob as well as plucking at what would have been its ey

New Items Fafnir | T1 Perfect Straight Sword | ID 246997 | DMG 3 Desc. A deep black longsword honed for battle. Heimdall | T1 Perfect Heavy Armor | ID 246999 | MIT 3 Desc. Deep blue colored heavy plate armor designed to provide superior defense to the user. Post Link for Crafts

DATE: [7/4/25] RANK 9 BLACKSMITH | [EXP: 3498/5119] | Daily Crafting Attempts: 10+4=14 CRAFTING BUFFS: Ambition Tool +1 EXP per craft Extended Workshop +2 EXP per craft Trading Hall 3 +2 EXP per craft | Salvage on LD 4 | +4 crafting attempts Crafting T1 [Straight Sword]s: ID 246997 | CD 11 | Perfect Crafting T1 [Heavy Armor]s: ID 246998 | CD 7 | Uncommon ID 246999 | CD 11 | Perfect ID 247000 | CD 4 | Salvage | LD 3 | Material Lost ID 247001 | CD 12 | Perfect ID 247002 | CD 11 | Perfect ID 247003 | CD 8 | Rare ID 247004 | CD 12 | Perfect ID 247005 | CD 1