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Kimba’s ear twitched first. Ariel’s gaze snapped from her familiar’s lazy grooming to the figure stumbling toward the pinned coordinates. Wobbly gait. Slurred hum. She knew that walk—not injury, but intoxication. Impossible. SAO’s systems filtered alcohol’s effects; players tasted wine but never felt its bite. Yet here was Freyd, hiccuping into the autumn night, pajama-clad with a sword scraping cobblestones. Ariel melted from the shadows. "Are you drunk?" No disapproval—raw, hopeful intensity. Her eyes scanned his glazed expression, the loose sway of his shoulders. Real buzz. Memori

The trek back was quieter, save for the soft shuffling of hatchlings clustering close, trusting in the steady rhythm of footsteps and the calm presence that had saved them. At the entrance to the lair, the wounded mother stirred. Fuzziel’s eyes brightened the instant she caught sight of her brood—an unspoken relief flooding through her scarred features. She lowered her head respectfully toward the group, voice trembling with gratitude. “You have returned my children… my hope.” Her breath was ragged, but her tone carried the strength of a mother’s enduring will. A pause followed

The trek back was quieter, save for the soft shuffling of hatchlings clustering close, trusting in the steady rhythm of footsteps and the calm presence that had saved them. At the entrance to the lair, the wounded mother stirred. Fuzziel’s eyes brightened the instant she caught sight of her brood—an unspoken relief flooding through her scarred features. She lowered her head respectfully toward the group, voice trembling with gratitude. “You have returned my children… my hope.” Her breath was ragged, but her tone carried the strength of a mother’s enduring will. A pause followed

Ariel couldn’t help but smile at her companion’s bluntness. To be fair, she’d walked this road too—at least two or three quests in, back when the chain was half-written and the reward was bugged. As Acanthus turned away, Ariel offered the wounded mother a short bow, formal and unhurried. “I’m in the same boat,” she said calmly. “Started this before it was finished. Got updated. We lost interest.” Her gaze lingered a moment on the dragon’s exposed wounds before stepping past her. She only showed a slight smirk before she vanished. No system alert. No flash of light. One step forw

PH * * * Riardon SP: 185 Riardon takes: 63 SP for base skills. Takes 6 Ranks in Inspiring For 120 SP (+12 En recovered for party). Riardon | HP: 260/260 | EN: 54/54 | DMG: 1 | MIT:6 | ACC:3 | EVA:3 | REC: 2 | Inspiring

"Alright, Alela..." He slid the spyglass shut and the item turned to dust in his hands. "I think this is as good a spot as any." He hadn't actually gotten to take a great look through the spyglass, but then again, he didn't need to. Half these floors felt the same: yeah, yeah, this is the like... plains-slash-mountains-slash-forest floor. Right. And there's like, a bunch of woodland beasts, and maybe like elves and stuff. Sure. "Alright!" He grinned and clasped his hands together. Alela jumped a few inches higher into the air, surprised. "Let's get you trained, huh? And I think the best

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PH * * * Note: CS Shades of the Gemini is active. if any player objects they should note it in their first post and the skill will be considered innactive. Wulfrin Consumes and shares: Gungir Shard | Sharkcuterie Board | T1 Demonic Feast | ACC 2 | EVA 2 | Portions: 5/6 Wulfrin fills EVA Wulfrin takes 1 rank in Haste for 10 SP Wulfrin SP total: 210 Wulfrin | HP: 850/850 | EN: 102/102 | DMG: 16 | ACC:8 | AA | EVA:5 | LD:9 | PROSP:3 | QTY: 2

Roll: ID# CD: LD: Quality Count Experience Ambition Mod 1 247906 CD: 1 +1 LD: 15 Critical Failure (2) 4 (+3 Ambition) 2 247905 CD: 10 +1 LD: 19 Rare (3) 8 (+3 Ambition) 3 247904 CD:

Acanthus looked to Ariel, and the Gambit. And then the dragon. With a sigh, she sheathed her sword. Three times she’d done the quest, and every time she had been the one stuck talking to the dragon. She liked dragons, but her fascination with the quest had ended a while back. She spoke plainly to the wounded dragon, like asking a stranger for directions. “Hi, yes. Acanthus. You don’t remember me because it’s a new quest instance, but—” “Be ye friends or foes?” The dragon rasped. “I—we’re friends. And who talks like that? They didn’t even talk like that in the 1400s.” Fuzzie

"Sounds like a deal," Wulfrin said as he leaned back in his chair. "I'll power through whatever you need me to. Same for gear requests. For now they'll have to be handled out of my forge on Floor 22, but if we ever get an armory, I'll probably set up a small on site forge." Wulfrin interlaced his fingers behind his head and placed his feet up on the table. Wulfrin's mind began to wander as he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments as the others would chime in with questions of their own. He was fixated on what rumors he had heard about across the floors. One stood out as importance.

“I think we’re still headed the right way. What’s the problem?” The problem became readily apparent. The rain, which had washed out the edges of the river, picked up in its intensity. Their speed steadily increased, and something strange began to match the roar of the downpower. The distant darkness was no longer a strange artifact of unknown forces. The land simply vanished. “So if I’m not Astra, does that mean I’m allowed to tell you there’s a waterfall ahead?” The party strained against the pull of the river, but an sturdy oar and a cursed sword were weak opposition to nat

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"Is that where were headed --?", Elora blurted out after Sable's suggestion. Don't tell me the raid has already started. And so soon after the last -- “I would really like to avoid the water if it’s possible. I can’t swim all that well in heavy armor.”, came Edict's nervous reservation. "I don't know anyone's looking to take a plunge in the Styx -- But we don't exactly have a choice here. The sword knows where it wants to go or something and I've got friends who need me on the front lines!" With a well-placed kick, Elora pushed them off from the shoreline and leapt to join the vesse

He had to have read the message about sixteen times to make sure it was what he thought it was. Free at 1 p.m.? Boy, am I! Once he'd confirmed the validity of the message (how exciting!) he hurriedly typed up a response. GAMBIT: SIR YES SIR! O7 It was only after he'd clicked send that he began to worry that maybe emoticons didn't reflect well on his maturity. Oh, no. Had he made a grave mistake? For the next two or three hours, Gambit went back and forth on whether he should send a follow-up message (stupid, stupid, stupid) or if he should make up an excuse (his dog died?) and

The music took over, the way it always did, and Su leaned hard into it. Unspeakable horrors were playing out all around her. A kaleidoscope of color flashed as sword arts triggered, and as the the raindrops distorted the light, she bore witness to the most magnificent and morbid lightshow ever. It stood in in sharp contrast to their upbeat lyrics, as did the terrifying bastardizations of human beings that continued to throw themselves at their hastily constructed barricade. Things with two heads, or half a head, or no head... and there were so many tentacles. Like, so many. But when Su cl

"Errr.... let's see. Triangular head, with spotty mottling and the wiggly neck tentacle thingies... that would be fire." Ripping off the protective sheath exposed the chemical-laden dart to the air, instantly igniting its tip. Meant most for fire and forget mode, Jeeves had found a way to entertain himself amidst the chaos by taking notes and pairing weapon types to enemy weaknesses. Striking right in the pulsing pustule on its back, the flaming bolt sparked the dubious concoction brewing inside, instantly causing the mob and its surroundings to combust. Cackling silently from his hid

Acanthus grinned back. Nicknames were not really her thing: they were so informal. And she didn’t really know how to be informal. But she had engaged with the bit for a little too long, and now Mari—Marigold—had accepted the name. Ah, a little informality won’t kill you. Kat extended her shotglass with a playful pout. "Another?" Acanthus laughed. “Enjoy it for now; once we’re done, you’ll have to pace yourself.” * * * The cart hobbled along with its familiar pace. The three girls rode in the carriage side by side, with Acanthus crammed to the side like nori in a bento box.

3ulogy fumed as another pile of weapons dropped at the table in front of him. He hissed at the donor as they wandered out of sight, looking for more. “Come up to Floor 29, you said. There’s a STY/L concert, you said. And people might die. Fuck me.” Another pile of weapons appeared while he complained to himself. He locked eyes with his dreaded benefactor and offered a calcified smile. “Hopefully that’s the last of them.” The stranger shook his head. “It’s been hell holding the town. No casualties yet, but we’re burning through equipment pretty quickly. There won’t be another round of

*Note, Yuki forgor to fix her hate, and everyone else forgor to account for horn EN Regen aside from Freyd, Kat, and Ariel (both have been added here) :0c Violet felt her skin start to crawl as she watched the boss take on her appearance. The nerve of this guy, snatching up the mechanic of a quest mob just to further frighten the other raiders - to act as a deterrent, a hope that friends would be too afraid to strike their own in order to handle the threat. Freyd, however, had almost instantly called the boss out - shattering the illusion in an instant. It made sense, seeing as how he wor

Abellio never realized just how much work went into making all those cool effects you saw at concerts. I mean, sure. He was improvising. Waldo was bringing in the whale oil and dousing preset piles of wood. But that was the easy part. The timing. The punctuation of the verses. It was like he needed to be everywhere all at one time. And, to make matters worse, there were Shamblers slowly trickling in through his barricades. Perhaps he should have spent a little more time on those, but time taken away from the stage was unacceptable. He’d been on a time crunch. They’d been holding. Been h

The rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil from the nearby smithy was a grating counterpoint to the new, far more offensive noise assaulting the besieged western gate. My fingers, meticulously layering powdered mending crystal along a stress fracture in a vanguard’s greave, faltered for a split second. A discordant wail, amplified by some infernal crystal, shredded the already oppressive atmosphere of rain and monstrous howls. "By the gods," I muttered, the words dripping with aristocratic disdain. I didn't need to look up to know the source. The garish techno beat and the piercing, artificial

Bliss left the comfort of her cozy little book nook with a determined heart. She wasn’t built for the frontlines. But she was built to support the people who had helped her rediscover her voice and carve a space for herself in this chaotic, insanely dangerous world. Ciela and Wulfrin had done more for her than they probably realized, and now it was her turn to show up for them. As she stepped outside, she fired off a quick message to Astra, who was already off delivering the sword. She took a breath, gripping her huge wrench tightly. Time to be brave. Floor 29 wasn’t what she expected.

The path from the red torii gate to the dock by boat, from the dock to the Coliseum by foot, and down memory lane by heart went quietly. He wasn't sure if he would ever hear from Acanthus again. He liked her. He had hoped they could have spent more time together, and she had seemed enamored with his garden. He had hoped, like many wounded souls before her, they could keep each other company and fend off the darkness together. But she didn't reach back out to him, and he didn't push. Perhaps she felt like he was too broken to be worth the time, but Baldur knew that was fragile perspective.

Ahri hadn’t performed in a hot minute, and her nerves were very loudly reminding her of that fact. Her heart was jackhammering in her chest, throat tight, palms sweaty despite the cool ocean air of Floor 29. She hated feeling like this. Unsteady. Small. This wasn’t how she did things. She was supposed to be untouchable. Bold. Confident in the way only stars could be and still get love for it. But now, standing on a makeshift stage with the sky cracked open above them and the threat of total annihilation lurking just off the coastline, she felt… human. Too human. God, get it together. She