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Pinball

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  1. Mishiro stirred and took the still opened book from his lap. He opened one of his eyes just wide enough to watch curiously as she flipped through the old pages. He watched her eyes dart from sentence to sentence, page to page. Backwards. Briefly picking out the more interesting snippets from the long-winded passages he'd spent the morning poring over. Seemingly satisfied, she bumped his knee to catch his attention. And so she had it; he rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and his thumb, blinked twice, and sat up straight. His brow furrowed as she recited the line. Then the question. "Oh.
  2. And so it begins, he thought. He had never interacted with Raidou before -- nor had he ever intended to. They were both attendees at the Roundtable, to be sure, though Pinball had remained attached to the refreshments table while Raidou had immediately taken to the stage. They were taking up similar roles now, he felt. A thorough gaze swept the room for hidden threats. For escape routes. Classical music echoed through the house as Raidou capped a fancy pen and set it, along with a tome he'd been writing in, aside. The place was well furnished. Extravagant, even. He couldn't be sure if th
  3. He sat there for a moment, staring into his again empty cup. Bahr had made up his mind, but now Pinball's thoughts wandered, and he found himself stuck on his brief outburst. It was a normal enough thing -- sometimes, people got upset and reacted with a temper. But for someone with his history, who had struggled so desperately to deny himself any such release in fear of what he might do or what he might say... it troubled him deeply. Bahr stopped as he stood, asking if Pinball was coming along. He looked up, then, at his partner, and then back to the bar. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming." He slid the
  4. Pinball caught the drink sliding over to him and snorted. "No," he replied dryly, "sure haven't." His gaze shifted to his mug, where he absentmindedly swirled the liquid within. He contemplated the situation and sighed as Bahr's musings came to a close. The whole situation rubbed him the wrong way. Still, he knew better than to withhold his opinion. "I've got a hunch there isn't an endgame. Not one he knows about, anyway. Seems to me he's trying to do the right thing, in his mind. But that's a bad way to go about it. Left unchecked, well..." He let the idea wander, shook his head, and dr
  5. It wasn't long before the groan of the old castle door echoed throughout the garden again. Mishiro. Icy blue eyes flicked to the girl who took a seat beside him. "Good morning," he murmured. He couldn't help but notice that she seemed tired. He couldn't blame her. The lazy morning had probably gotten the best of the both of them. But he was happy that she was here. It looked like she was going to read with him, so his attention returned to his book, and he flipped to the next page. The book was an account of the rise and fall of some ancient kingdom in long and boring detail. It wasn't h
  6. His eyes flicked to the door as Bahr entered. He turned back to his drink, quiet, and allowed Bahr the time to sit down and get situated. Pinball's guess was that Bahr wouldn't like the drink. But he said nothing until he'd gotten comfortable and taken his first disappointed sip. Thought so. Pinball took one last drink of his own, and he felt Bahr's eyes on him. There was a long pause, and then it was straight to business. "Would it surprise you if I told you I was just feeling lonely?" He turned to look the man dead in the eyes, his expression completely blank. Pinball let that se
  7. Eyes of glinting blue-gold danced across the desolate streets of Aradennia, resting finally upon their quarry: a residence situated in the dead zone of Floor 23, the former Sun Elf Capital. He blinked once, and his gilded gaze was instantly purged of its glow. It wasn't often that the solitary scout found himself on any floor past ten-- but today was different. He gave the lonely home one last cursory glance before spinning on his heel, and he was gone. He'd gotten all the information he needed. . . . . The tavern was empty. Besides the taciturn bartender, quietly polishing a glass
  8. He walked easily through halls that betrayed every step with an echo. The cool morning sun streamed dimly through cracked and shady windowpanes, and the shadows of songbirds danced in its light. Held beneath his arm was a dusty leather tome, its title faded just barely beyond recognition. He chewed absentmindedly on a pastry. It had only been recently he started spending time at his home. His first purchase had been an apartment, but he'd later sold it to help him purchase Green Garden after learning about the useful buffs that a larger estate could provide a player. That didn't mean he
  9. She had a lot more thoughts on the matter than he'd even initially thought. He tried for a momen to wrap his head around it. The bureaucracy was giving him a headache. But it was plain and evident to see, especially after Mishiro spent the time debriefing him, that there was a fair bit of internal tension at that table. And it definitely wasn't helped by the fact that Raidou had sauntered up and taken a seat where he obviously wasn't welcome. Was that intentionally to get a rise out of them, or just arrogance? He thought it more likely to be the latter. Once Mishiro finished talkin
  10. He stifled a chuckle as they both made a beeline for the cocktail weenies. The frontliner would dig his own grave or climb out of it, after all. There was no point in worrying too much, he reasoned -- though truthfully, the back of his mind was still preoccupied with his thoughts of the man's arrival. He absentmindedly popped weenie after weenie into his mouth as Mishiro wrapped her arms around his waist. As he listened, Pinball hummed thoughtfully. He ruffled her hair for a moment and then murmured in her direction, "What're your thoughts on all this? You gonna get back into the discuss
  11. Things were heating up now. Despite the tactless way that Tiberius put things, Pinball could at least appreciate that the man spoke plainly. Although he felt a bit out of his element in such a bureaucratic discussion, he could tell that Tiberius was just looking out for his own. For a brief moment, he thought about intervening. There was no point in being here if the NPCs just got at each other's throats. Watching that happen could hardly be the point of an event so close in relation to the boss fight. But new faces on the scene were quick to interpose themselves between the bickering of
  12. Pinball found his head buried in his hand. A man of standing? He might as well have called the dwarf a man of great stature. It might have had about the same effect. It still might, if he doubled down and hurried up with it. How embarrassing. The longer he spent the more he questioned if he really should have even came. He looked again towards Mishiro, only to find her seat empty. He shot up in surprise, catching the top of her head moving through the crowd down the aisle. For a second he considered following, and then he decided against it. She knew what she was doing. He could ge
  13. Pinball watched with quiet eyes as Mishiro pointed out each individual on the podium, and gave a bit of context as to what he'd walked into. He felt like he knew enough about the floor to follow what was going on. Contribution, though? He wasn't so sure yet. "Thank you," he whispered to Mishiro. His eyes didn't leave the stage. He was still half-expecting a dragon or something to rip off the roof and burn everyone alive. His perpetual discontentment aside, Pinball was lucky, still, that the other players in attendence were keen on listening to their own voices and acting like what
  14. He was a light sleeper. The soft click of the front door locking was more than enough to pull him from unpleasant dreams. He laid there for a moment, blinking the weariness from his eyes. His head lolled to one side, then back to the ceiling. She was gone. Another moment passed as the silence settled and then he rolled out of bed. Pinball didn't concern himself with the affairs of the frontlines anymore. Not really. There had been a time where he'd longed to be there more than anything, then a time after where he'd despised everyone who took part in it. Nowadays he'd rather just forget i
  15. Pinball consumed the items at a meticulous pace. Not too slowly, but not too quickly either. He felt so strongly the need to appear as normal as possible in this group that he probably succeeded in appearing as anything but. He was aware of this, and he felt very uncomfortable in his own skin. The longer he remained sitting there, silently chewing and drinking, the more his face burned up because of that encroaching embarrassment. Finally, he threw caution to the wind and sped up, intent on finishing as quickly as possible. He was already finished and wiping the corner of his lips when L
  16. He'd taken his time glancing the two over, and thought he had a pretty fair grasp on the situation. As such, he was aware of a couple things. Nari was unfamiliar to him. But that wasn't entirely surprising. While it felt like the rate at which new players arrived at the frontlines had slowed when compared to when he'd started, there would always be a somewhat steady stream of new faces arrived ready to fight. There had to be. Without them... well, things would get pretty bleak, pretty fast. Her skepticism was warranted, he'd suppose, if she'd never heard of him -- or even more so if she
  17. Of all the floors he'd travelled, the twenty-seventh was most likely the one he'd frequented the least. It wasn't only because of its newness that he hadn't had the opportunity to check things out, but also because of what new floors attracted. Those on the frontlines tended to gather en masse to plan out their attack on the next boss. Information brokers, gatherers, merchants, and explorers all flocked to the wilds in search of fortune or adventure in some way, shape, or form. Consequently, the lower floors had a way of emptying out in comparison. It was quieter, and there were less cro
  18. Back once more. He wanted to help more. He needed to. It wasn't just about himself anymore -- not with what he was planning. If he wanted to last or make a difference in any way in the labyrinth search, consumables would be key. Pinball moved quickly. Using the Cook's ability to combine just two identical consumables into a feast for many, he created most of what he thought would be necessary in a crawl through unexplored territory, and then a bit more after that. As soon as he'd finished, he'd gather his things and hurriedly clean his shop. It wouldn't be much longer now.
  19. Name: Junk Your Profession: Cook Your Rank: 7 Roll ID: [#209553] [#209554] [#209556] Roll Result: 7/10 // 7/8 // 7/4 Item Type: Dessert Tier: 4 Quality: Uncommon Enhancements: +1 MIT Description: I hate it Post Link: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/15508-f8-r7-cook-~-closed-msg-4-order/?do=findComment&comment=653384 Name: Eye-Spy Cake Your Profession: Cook Your Rank: 7 Roll ID: [#209552] [#209552a] Roll Result: 11/13 Item Type: Dessert Tier: Tierless Quality: Rare Enhancements: +2 ACC Description: Better than carrot cake. Post Link: ht
  20. Purchasing: x2 T4 Blank Dungeon Map 800 Col sent to Banker
  21. More consumables. More crafting. He had way too many materials to work with and way too much time on his hands, and ever since he'd stepped foot into his old workshop, the urge to cook had thoroughly had its way with him. So every morning, as early as he could, he made his way back into the kitchen and baked, mixed, and did whatever he wanted. Fizzy drinks and desserts were his preferred specialties -- anything and everything that could rot your teeth were what held his interest. It was a good thing most of the consumable buffs applied to desserts.
  22. THREAD COMPLETE Rewards: <<Fisher>> Profession Unlocked 1 Gleaming Scale Loot: 8 Materials Unidentified T4 Perfect Weapon x2 T4 Rare Consumables Experience and Col: 3,480 Words/10*4*1= 1,392 + 300 (Quest Reward) + 800 (Yui's Grace) +10% (Mega Slime Farm) = 2,741 EXP 2,741*15% (Paragon) + 150 = 561 Col
  23. Pinball took a knee beside the chest's lock. He whistled. "Zomekko." Emerging from the jar was a cloud of shadow that quickly coalesced and took shape. The ghostly shade of a cat stood beside him as Pinball fiddled with a golden key and his lockpicks, staring up at its master with wide, empty eyes. He palmed the Golden Key, and without a word shared between them, Zomekko launched into the tree, her form warping and condensing to surround the golden key in an inky blackness. What was once gold was now an inky black, and Pinball stuck the key into the lock where it vanished, consumed, and
  24. With that, the Quest Completion panel popped up in front of him, and Pinball made a quick tally of the results. Anthony Gill coldly turned away and busied himself with his supplies again. It was clear he didn't really want to talk to him, and that was alright. Pinball was about done talking to Anthony himself, at that point. He'd pretty much exhausted everything that could have been done. Preparing to leave, he took one last look at the scenery. He just really stopped to take it all in. To breathe it all in. But something shiny caught his eye. Nestled among Gill's assortment of crates an
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