All Activity

"Messed up pseudo bird people? Maybe Kayaba left someone alone in the modeling shop for too long, and they went a little cuckoo?" Every ounce of normally abundant willpower was called into action, staying the urge to waggle his sword in her direction, or nip a blossoming bud from the local fauna. Poor Sam might get the wrong impression. "Mercutio certainly loved pressing buttons, no matter whose house they belonged too. Or so I vaguely recall. It's been a long time since high school English, and that play bored the absolute... Roxi?" Not what he'd expected. And, judging by the skewing o

* * * * * * Thread Closure: Word Count EXP (WPE): [Word Count]/10 * Group Factor Pages Col (PC): 400 * page (20 Posts) count <<PLAYER>> receives the following: Tier: Player’s True Tier EXP: [WCE * Tier] + [quest] + [other bonuses] Col: [PC/numPlayer] (unless otherwise agreed on by participants) + [other bonuses] Mats: (If applicable) Items: (If applicable) Other Thread Rewards: (Skills and such)

* * *

* * *

Hearing Freyd comment on the pictures surrounding the walls causes Sam's eyes to shift around. "They look like an untold story from the old," beginning to reach for a notebook in her coat pocket realizing that she left that behind her. Finger tips began to trace the carving. "I really did think Rose was it until you all said something, maybe Roxi. Need a screen name for when I become famous." There was a smile on her face while saying this follow by a small giggle to there bickering. Commenting on something that both Nisa and Freyd had said, "Yes I am an archer but that does not define wh

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

It was a quiet morning, the air still heavy with the scent of damp wood and smoke despite their efforts. The repairs had started, and Wulfrin had reinforced the deck with stronger beams while Ciela re-varnished the herb boxes and replanted the singed rosemary. She’d baked a fresh batch of cinnamon scones with clove and honey glaze, partly for comfort, mostly to reclaim the scent of her space. She had just set out the scones on a cooling rack when the front door creaked open. A small figure stood there. “Eliot?” Ciela asked, a little surprised. She wiped her hands on a towel and approached

The morning after the attack, Ciela was up before the sun. The bakery smelled faintly of smoke despite her best efforts to scrub every trace of it away. Still, she refused to let the events of the day before linger in her mood. If anything, it fueled her determination to reclaim the normalcy she had built here. She opened the windows wide, letting in the fresh lakeside breeze. Perlita, ever her tiny sentinel, darted between sunbeams on the floor while occasionally glancing toward the deck, as if daring trouble to return. Ciela got to work. The oven roared to life, and she slippe

The next day... The joy of the festival lingered well into the next morning. Ciela stretched lazily as golden light filtered through the windows of Wulfrin’s home. She was curled up in a blanket on the couch, half-asleep and still smiling from the night before. The memory of fireworks and Wulfrin’s kiss played in her thoughts like a cherished dream. From the kitchen, Wulfrin poured water into a kettle, and Ciela wandered over, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Through the wide kitchen window, the lake shimmered in the morning sun, and just beyond that, her bakery stood quiet and inviting,

Scanning along the statue quite feverishly, she'd all but come up empty. "Your most certainly welcome." spoken with a grin where it was obvious she knew he was being sarcastic, that chide smile of hers that would easily reveal the woman beneath the younger plaster. "A quetzalcoatl I think. Not much on make believe gods sporting feathers. Ironic given my tenure, don't you think?" Stepping away from the form of the beast, she'd begin to hover the pyres looking for a mechanism upon its surface as well. "All these toys and buttons, humans really like their buttons. I was partial to something more

A month later... Ciela was halfway through icing a fresh batch of berry tarts when she heard it, the unmistakable sound of a firework cracking in the distance. She looked up, startled, and then rushed to the back windows. From the bakery’s lake-facing view, she could see it clearly now: colorful banners flapping in the breeze, small boats with lanterns drifting out onto the lake, and townspeople, NPCs and players alike, gathering for something. "Oh my stars," she murmured. "Is that today?" Perlita let out a squeaky chirp and bounded toward the door as if confirming her suspicion

R9 Blacksmith (14 crafts/day - 10 from rank +1 from extended workshop +3 from Trading Hall III) Ambition Tool (+1 EXP per attempt) Ambition Food (+1 EXP/craft) | 174824 Extended Workshop (+2 EXP per attempt, +1 attempt/day) Hephaestus' Hammer (+1 CD) Trading Hall (+2 EXP/craft, Salvage on LD 6+, +3 attempt/day) Crafter's Respite | n/a ID 243889 | CD 1+1=2 | LD 14 | Salvage (+7 EXP) - mat lost ID 243890 | CD 3+1=4 | LD 19 | Salvage (+7 EXP) - mat kept ID 243891 | CD 11+1=12 | LD 11 | T4 Perfect Armor (+13 EXP) ID 243892 | CD 4+1=5 | LD 20 | T4 Uncommon Armor (+8 EXP) ID

Item #1: Name: Black Regalia (v.IV) Crafting ID: 243891 Item Type: Armor (Heavy) Tier: 4 Quality: Perfect Enhancements: MIT III Description: Heavy armor comprised of black iron and dyed leather plates interwoven for maximum protection. Royal purple cloth provides trim and accent in a priestly style, combined with a matching mantle and battle skirt. The final result is both practical in combat and ceremonial in appearance. Bears the mark of Ren. Post Link: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/39174-f21-r8-blacksmith-the-knight-shift-open/?do=findComment&comment=696144 Upgrade

Grind thread combat template Some notes on this grinding thread: I am simplifying the math for my own sanity. I will list BD values for the rolls although results it won't matter. Because I'll be spawning in monsters with no evasion, ACC 5 and AA will always hit. In the dice roller, I will be noting rolls as AoE1/Looting [Monster Name] [Number]-[Number]. I don't think it matters which roll lines up with which mob because they all have the same loot values, and all will die to one hit. In case it matters, low Roll ID matches low numbers to low numbers. For example, if Roll IDs 100000—10000

A week later... Ciela hummed softly as she rolled out a sheet of dough, the scent of vanilla and sugar already clinging to the air. It was a quiet afternoon, the sort that wrapped around her shoulders like a soft blanket. The sun filtered through the windows in golden beams, and Perlita napped lazily near the oven, her little paws twitching in a dream. Then came the knock. It was soft, timid even. Not the usual confident rap of a player, nor the clumsy pounding of a delivery runner. Curious, Ciela dusted the flour from her hands and opened the door to find a small NPC child stan

The next day... The morning dew clung lazily to the grass outside as Ciela opened the front door of Fondante’s Inferno. A cool breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the ivy that curled along the bakery's wooden siding. She stepped onto the deck, a cup of coffee in one hand and a delicate plate of powdered jelly donuts in the other. The day ahead was mercifully clear, no special orders, no irate adventurers, no dungeon runs to plan around. Just peace. At least, it should have been peaceful. Perlita, her ever-mischievous otter companion, had other plans. The little furball

Two weeks later... The morning mist was still clinging to the lake when Ciela tucked a few extra loaves of honey-butter bread into a tin. Floor 16 was colder than Floor 22, and she wanted to make sure her customer had something warm to enjoy with their view. This would be her first personal delivery to Atalina, and despite the effort it took to navigate its winding walkways and gravity-defying bridges, she found herself looking forward to the trip. The floating village still felt like a dream. Perched on its branch-like stone outcroppings above a pale blue lake, Atalina shimmered in

Months later... Ciela was halfway through decorating a fresh batch of rose-shaped meringues when the bell chimed once more. She looked up, expecting another wide-eyed newbie or soft-spoken wanderer looking for Wulfrin. Instead, the man who stepped inside was anything but. Tall and broad-shouldered, his armor bore the polished crest of the Crimson Fang guild, a group known more for aggression than manners. His name hovered above him: Varris. Right above his name, an orange cursor. He didn’t greet her. He didn’t glance at the pastries. He walked straight to the counter, leaned an

The next morning started with a system notification: New Order Received: 12 Honey Cakes, 8 Savory Rolls. Delivery requested: Floor 16, the village of Atalina. Atalina was a quiet village nestled atop a breathtaking series of massive stone outcroppings, each resembling gnarled tree branches stretching over a crescent-shaped lake. The view was ethereal, floating homes and walkways built right into the rock, connected by narrow bridges and winding staircases. It wasn’t the easiest place to reach, but Ciela adored its charm. This was her first time visiting, and the awe in her eyes was unmist

A month later... It was late. The warm golden glow of the bakery had dimmed to soft candlelight, casting flickering shadows along the wooden walls and countertops dusted in flour. Outside, the lake rippled gently beneath a sky painted in indigo and silver, its surface reflecting the stars with an almost magical stillness. The wind was still, the world hushed, as if Aincrad itself had paused to breathe. Ciela leaned against the doorframe of her bakery, arms folded and gaze distant. Her apron was still dusted with powdered sugar, a streak of cinnamon smudged across her cheek. The air w

A few days later... The bell above the door jingled, mechanical and charming, and Ciela nearly dropped her piping bag. Her first customer. A tall, nervous player with messy auburn hair shuffled inside. His gear was worn, not frontline, likely a mid-tier gatherer or low-level crafter. "Um, hi," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Are you open?" Ciela’s face lit up with a practiced but genuine smile. "Sure am. Welcome to Fondante’s Inferno! I’ve got tarts, tea, and enough sugar to give Cerberus a stomach ache." He blinked, then laughed. "I’ll take whatever you recomme

A few months after remodeling and setting up... Ciela never expected to find comfort in flour dusted counters and the soft hum of warm ovens. Her bakery, Fondante's Inferno, perched near the edge of Floor 22’s shimmering lakeside district, was her personal sanctuary amidst the chaos of Aincrad. Decorating it had become her new quest, one far less dangerous than the dungeons and bosses of higher floors but no less meaningful. A place where she could lose herself, not in battles or strategy, but in buttercream and fondant ribbons. The exterior resembled a rustic lakeside cabin, with wa