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The directions that Reytac had received had been very specific on how to look for this place. He'd been warned that the proprieteress might not be in, and he was already planning how to best get back to the safe zone and back to familiar grounds if they weren't. Thankfully the tent was very close to the safe zone, so unless something happened within a step or two, he'd be able to make it back safely. The perpetual night of the floor had felt odd at first to him, but after a few minutes of time it had actually grown kind of pleasant. Out in the real world he'd long been a night owl, and t

Using: Custom Ambition Tool | Bunsen Burner | Obtained here -extended workshop active Rank 8 - Provisional Master Alchemist: Alchemist | Enchancements 1726/2559 --> 18232559 CRAFTING: 02/09/2024 Perfect T2 Dessert 251686| Cheesecake Brownie | Ambition Roll: ID# CD: LD: Quality Count Experience Ambition Mod 1 252083 CD: 5 LD: 19

"two of the smaller ones at best. i haven't been to a gym in years.” night made a sound. “wait, how did you say that—” star didn’t answer, but they agreed upon her waiting behind. so there she was, idling on her lonesome, making sure the injured didn’t pick at their wounds. gravel sifted and fell through the cracks of the ceiling, but there was no sign of any activity that would send her to be on alert. then the message game. NIGHT: wym she paused to think. NIGHT: can we destroy the rock w/ a sword art it was probably the worst possible suggestion for

how dared she ignore firefly? night shifted on the spot with a nod to the player, heeding her regard towards exploration rather than the offensive. her enthusiasm for new places seemed unparalleled. “just a few,” night started. “i haven’t tried being an escort for higher floors before. but if you think you can hold your own — at least, to stay out of danger — i’m sure i can lend a hand when i’m free.” she couldn’t help but stare when firefly revealed her notebook, only to discover the language within was just a sequence of strange dots. but what mattered the most to night was the mention

It had been nearly a week since the announcement, since they had all become trapped in this digital fantasy, since the names began to be crossed off the list. The list, it's a joke really, The Monument of Life, a sick monolithic stone scorecard the game was keeping as a joke at players' expense. First went those who had been beta-testers, they had experience on their side, they knew where they were going. With them went the foolhardy and headstrong, becoming the first names to leave the list. Then came the floods, hundreds upon hundreds of scared players, not knowing what else to do withou

Approved

Approved

9/1/25 (Crafting Respite: 248550, Ambition: 250312-1, Chef's Kitchen (Ext.) | +2 EXP, +1 Attempt, Cooking Spit (Tablet) | +1 CD) Roll: ID# CD: LD: Quality Count Experience Ambition Mod 1 252050 CD: 6 +1 LD: 18 Uncommon (3) 9 (+6 Ambition) 2 252051 CD: 3 +

THREAD SUMMARY Experience | 16,673 / 5 * 1 = 3334 Experience Col | 400 (Bonus Page) = 400 col Other | 1 mon (EV thread) Sword relay word count | 3,115 (Thread #1) + 6,493 (Thread #2) + 7,520 (Thread #3) + 16,673 (Current Thread) = 33,801 words. Sword Returned! (Hyperlinks go to summary post on each thread.)

Scattered light formed at the surface of the water, calling to him with a myriad voice that soothed whatever he called a soul. "Rise." [OOC: I'm writing the "Lady of the Lake" as a combination of all the players that helped in this fight. (I'll leave how much of a hallucination it is to your personal preference.) I'm avoiding direct references to avoid writing other characters without their consent, but I am using text colors for all the players involved. If you do not want your character's likeness used (in the form of the Lady of the Lake's dialogue color), reach out to me and I'll remo

Three other Users stood beside him. A sharp-tongued but deeply caring elf. A young, enthusiastic guide. Another young man that had encouraged and protected the group as they carried the sword along their way. Edict managed one more step. The dragon was howling, but the sword-bearer could no longer hear the words. Instead, he focused on the people around him. They were the reason the sword had made it this far. If he was not worthy, then they could be. Another step forward, urged on by the thousands of steps made by those who came before. Edict was now close enough to see the dragon carcas

You. Are not Worthy. The words were a command, simple and inexorable. Edict’s legs froze in place. His eyes darted towards the pedestal. Far as it was, it seemed so close enough after everything that had happened. He could nearly throw the damn sword back into place. You are. Not Worthy. The words silenced his own thoughts. They echoed through the room and into his mind, forcing out the parts of him that begged to run or fight. So he responded, careful to keep the tremors out of his voice. “I’m all that’s left.” The dragon took a moment to absorb Edict’s response. Then

--Waldo's Interlude-- But it was not what he received. Edict coughed up seawater as a weird, fleshy thing pounded his back. He was covered in equal parts water and black goop, and a mixture of seaweed and fish bones flesh from his hair. Wait. Go back a sentence. What weird, fleshy thing? Edict jolted awake, rolling away from the strange feeling behind him. He rolled up into a fighting stance, ready to finish off whatever was about to eat him. His left shoulder still hung limp at his side. A large walrus man stared at him quizzically. Edict stared back. The walrus waited pat

"You... you brought the beast to us!" Tom threw a punch that caught Edict in the jaw. His already meager health bar dropped. "This is your fault!" "This is NOT my fault!" Despite his impending death, Edict's attention was entirely on the Aincrad's worst escort NPC. "If you had just sat down—behaved—" Edict brought his forearms up to guard the sides of his face. He didn't want to kill Tom if he had to, but the NPC's sanity was rapidly deteriorating. Spittle flew as Tom threw punch after punch, whittling away at Edict's health. When Tom saw that punches were no longer connecting, he kicked

One final pull heaved the man into Edict’s boat. The waterlogged survivor spat up a surprising amount of saltwater into the boat. Edict fished a mostly intact bucket from the wreckage to bail some of the water. A cheery buzz sounded in his ears. <<Quest Accepted: The Plight of Thomas Dudley>> “You saved me life. Name’s Thomas Dudley.” “I…” Edict sighed. “Thanks, Thomas.” “Just Tom’ll do.” “Then why did you—” He sighed harder. “Of course, Tom. What happened to you?” The shipwrecked man peered out into the icy black waters with the requisite sense of fear. “I

--Doldrums-- Edict found himself wishing for the rain. In its absence, a stifling humidity settled over the boat. It pressed down on his chest as he lay flat in the dinghy, doing his best to recover from… whatever had just happened. “You know, if I had a nickel for every time I ended up in a tiny boat while carrying this Sword to its resting place, I’d have two nickels.” A dry laugh rocked the boat as Edict finished the joke in his head. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. Humor was the only thing keeping his spirits afloat. After being forced into the tiny boat

Frannarf gathered all of the town's cultists into the town square. There were more than Edict had expected; about fifty or so by his count. And based on the quest he had somehow picked up, they were missing five more. The practical jokes had been light today—they were eager to make it to the evening festivities. "My fellow Cultists! Our festivities tonight are marked by a special guest! We have our very first Jeweled mob! He, our... hm." Gnung turned and whispered to Edict. "What's your name again? Don't think I ever got it." "Edict." "Oh wow, that's terrible. Can I just call yo

"So this is the town! Best to let me take the lead. We like our practical jokes. Fun for us—not so fun for you." A nameless figure disappeared into the small shack behind them, and a sturdy *shhhhhhck-WHUMPF* erupted from inside. <<Kill Mad Cultists 2/20>> Nearby cultists hooted and cheered. Gnung sniffed, and wiped a tear from his eye. "Ah, the threshold guillotine. A classic." "Ok—definitely sticking behind you." "Not too far behind. Some of the pranks are a little finicky. They go off late." "Got it. Not too close, not too far. So... how far behind you,

Edict sat in a dilapidated building that once passed for a schoolhouse. Forlorn winds whistled through the holes and cracks, and steady drips of water fell into a rusty bucket in the corner. It was one of the six buildings in the location the Cultists claimed as their town. "This is... cozy," Edict offered. "We were really holding out for a desecrated church," Gnung explained. "But we got a firm no on that. There's a quota on desecrated churches per floor, and the last open slot went to the Mad Cultist sect up near Miremore." "They aren't even real cultists," Skuks griped. "They

--Me Next! Me Next!-- The ruins of the smokehouse lay behind Edict, but the images persisted. The wooden walls took to the flame naturally, feeding the greedy conflagration until the entire house was one large campfire. Smoke billowed and rose into the black clouds above, coating the entire landscape in soot. Worse than the images were the sounds. Edict recalled the snapping of dry timber, and crackling of the dried flesh as it flaked to ashes, and Donner, laughing and screaming as his world burned down around him. Until, with a hellish roar, the roof collapsed, and all that remained was

Donner busied himself like a maid at work. He scooped ashes and delicately arranged aromatic logs in the central fire pit. All the while, whistling a cheerful tuneless tune. He checked the blackened walls, running a fastidious finger up a few of the planks to ensure the airflow was just right. Then, he reached up to check the meathooks for any stains or rusting. Rusty hooks weren’t food-grade, after all. Finally, Donner walked over to the corner of the room, crouched down on his haunches, and peeled a burlap sack off the whimpering man. “Ah, the blood’s just about collected, I think. Now

Edict dumped the aromatic wood on the ground at Donner’s feet. His hand returned to the sword. “Ah, you’re a good kid after all.” Donner scooped up the wood, and the quest objective faded from Edict’s HUD. “I guess I was wrong about you.” “So we’re good? I can take the ferry across?” Donner beat his breast. “I’m a man o’ my word, I am. You go and get yourself settled on the raft, and I’ll be right down. I’ve just got something to take care of first.” Here it is. The other shoe is about the drop. Edict nearly drew the sword. He shook from a mixture of fear and exhaustion.

So far, the quest had been nothing but running into the woods for, well, wood. The first round required him to fetch pliant wood. “You see how my poor river pole is at its end. Fetch me some more wood so I can make a new one.” The man even gave him a small, brass amulet that gushed a sickeningly sweet smoke. “I gotta hand it to the Devs, the localization team is top-notch. And the pun, Donner’s Party? I wonder how that carries through Cardinal’s language engine.” Not to mention the American history reference in a global video game with a largely Eastern audience. How many of them would kn

--The Ferryman-- The forest was much easier to navigate in the day, dull however the light was. Edict moved east at a determined pace, following Sayor's directions. Follow the sun until you hit the river. If you don't see the ferry house, walk south until you find it. The only other way around the river will add half a day of walking, and take you through some peculiar mob spawns. And you're way too underleveled to risk those. Your luck has held out this far, but it's only a matter of time. "Sometimes, pragmatism isn't what you want to hear." Edict grunted as he made his way thr

The pair sat long into the hours of the night, holding their hot beverages and staring into the fire. Calling the caffel root a coffee substitute was like boiling dirt and calling it a meal. The resulting beverage was so thin that Edict could see the bottom of the mug, even in the dim light of the fire. But the beverage had calmed Sayor. He sat hunched forward, with his nose practically perched on the edge of his cup. By the time the sun began to rise, Sayor sported his soft smile again. "Thank you for stopping by. Feel free to send Users my way—I really enjoy meeting people. But also, do