Edict

“Maxwell? I’m—” A moment of hesitation. Should I be giving out my name here? The whole point is to avoid notice. Who could be watching, and how?” —Edict. It’s nice to meet you too.” Maxwell was a fascinating character. He seemed eager to throw himself into understanding Edict; and what was strange, something in Edict said he stood the best chance of not ending up with the rest of his partners that had tried. Never having met the man before, he felt they shared a kindred core. Edict could not explain it. It might have been the inscrutable way Maxwell had reacted to talking about

Edict glanced up. In the dimness of the Blackroom, a young man stood over him, dressed as Edict’s opposite; a black overcoat with silver and amethyst jewelry. His carefully(?) ungroomed hair made Edict wonder if he cared about appearances, or cared that other people thought he didn’t. Edict motioned to the chair next to him. “Please sit! I came here to feel a little less lonely, but it turns out the masks are having the opposite effect.” Edict was nor prepared to ask why he’d chosen to wear one. “It’s from a vendor on floor 21. The catch is she unlocks after some easy-to-miss ques

"Black, or white?" A doorman asked. "Black." Edict stepped into the party, overwhelmed by the movement and the people. It was easy to forget 10,000 people entered this game. It was rare to see more than ten people together outside of a floor boss or important event. The hundreds of strangers here made Edict feel like he was back in the real world. It was the mask that made him feel safe enough to mingle. Large groups always made him nervous, and ever since—well, as long as he'd been alive, he felt the best course of action was to avoid people. His own avoidance left him feeling

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