Pinball
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Posts posted by Pinball
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{Disclaimer: NIGHT said I could, sniff}
Potions.
He needed potions.
At the same time, he was broke, and that was an unfortunate circumstance he unfortunately found himself having to cope with, of which he unfortunately didn't see an end to unless he could procure aforementioned potions, preferably of the Damage or Healing variety. He picked the lock quickly and cringed as the door swung quietly open and closed behind him.
Stealing was bad - but come on. He'd killed before. This really wasn't so horrible in comparison --
-- was what he kept telling himself as he shoveled potion after glowing yellow potion into a bag for him to sort later, his guilt gradually stacking with each clink of the glass vials falling atop one another. He finally broke around the twenty mark, swinging his pack over his shoulder and leaving the remaining twenty or so potions left over in the storeroom. Carefully locking the doors again behind him, Pinball quietly made his way through the shop and out the door again, taking off into a mad dash as soon as he was sure the shop was again locked and guarded against any further wayward thieves of his breed.
It was their fault for leaving them all out in the open, right?
Right?
Taking 20x Liquor of Light: DMG III
Works out because the bottom three rows of your links adds up to twenty thank you NIGHT I love you so much you are simply the greatest tytytytytytyty
-
Skill(s) Being Dropped: Hiding
Mod(s) Being Dropped: n/a (see above)
SP Incurred Towards Limit: 30
SP Refunded: 30
Cost: 30,000 Col -
perhaps some kind soul would like to slide me 11k col to fund my mischievous misadventures :point_right: :point_left:
-
Skill(s) Being Dropped: n/a
Mod(s) Being Dropped: [Vanish - Hiding]
SP Incurred Towards Limit: 6
SP Refunded: 6
Cost: 6,000 Col -
"Hm... Jesus."
He listened to Lessa echo his complaints and took some small comfort in knowing that his concerns hadn't been unwarranted. At least if he drowned and died here, he'd drown and die knowing that other people also thought the boat the quest provided was a piece of shit. Loathe as he'd been to leave the shore in the first place, he hadn't had the idea to point out the possibility of fishing for the creature on the shore until they'd started paddling away from it.
So, unfortunately, he was stuck there.
Casting his line, Pinball resisted succumbing to the wave of memories that rushed through his mind as his hook pierced the water's surface.
And he waited. And waited. But nothing bit.
Cursing under his breath, Pinball reeled the line back in. He would find then that Lessa had had similar luck with her attempt.
"Yeah, I've got nothing."
Fishing for Moretsuna:
ID#188075 CD: 7 (Naw) -
Quite literally, this was the worst.
"Okay," he replied, "that's fine."
If Lessa at any point felt as though she were talking to a brick wall, she wouldn't be too far off the mark. Even beyond the discomfort he felt in her general vicinity, Pinball was about as unsociable as they came. Right now, his one and only goal was to get the quest finished, fulfill the obligation he'd let himself slide into, and then get the absolute hell out of dodge. There was no fun to be had with the uncomfortable fear that he'd have Bahr breathing down his neck the second he let his guard down around her.
He settled into the boat, all too aware of the puddles at his feet, and would take up the oar should Lessa leave it up to him.
"Let's just hope it doesn't sink on us halfway there," he sighed.
Once the painstaking process of rowing out into deep water was finished, Pinball would set his oar back down in the boat and lean down to retrieve the equally as flimsy fishing rod from the bottom of the boat. Luckily, there were two, and so he'd slide the other towards Lessa with the flat of his boot.
"Alright then." He looked down and grimaced, muttering mostly to himself. "I really don't want to stand in this thing."
-
-
Where was home, exactly?What was a home, even?It was where you laid your head and slept at night, wasn't it? Somewhere safe and quiet, where you rested after a tiring day and awoke to the sun pouring through the curtains and started your morning refreshed and anew. Well, he hadn't had anything like that for a very long time. He slept when he collapsed of exhaustion, or when he literally couldn't stand the sights of the same well-walked paths he took across the floor, travelling without a purpose. He clutched his shirt, pulled on it. It felt like he was suffocating. He beat on his chest, as though if he hit himself it would stop the pain. It hurt too much.Well, maybe then it was the people you cared about, and the people who cared about you. The ones who were there for you unconditionally, helping you through the worst of times, knowing fully well that you would do the same for them without question. It was support, love, trust, you and them fighting against the cruel injustice of reality together. But he'd abandoned everyone he cared about. He'd crumbled them all up with his own hands and tossed them aside. He hadn't wanted a home. He didn't deserve it, after all. Even when it hurt him, them, when their hearts broke in unison, he pushed them away. He'd cut those threads. He'd burned those bridges. Tears fell from his eyes now, dribbling down his chin in waves even though he tried his hardest to fight them."Why won't you come home?"The heavy impact of a blade whizzing past his ear caused Pinball to flinch and scramble backwards. One of it's tendrils had launched towards him, trying to spear him through the eye, and it had only nearly missed. With a gurgle and a groan it inched closer, even as the blade-like appendage retracted, and left Pinball panting with a racing heart. He hadn't felt pain since the game had started, but for some reason, he had the unreasonable fear that if he got impaled by that thing, he would feel something a thousand times worse.Fight. He had to fight.Why did he have to fight?His body moved of its own volition and finally stared it down, his face slick with sweat and tears. He couldn't. And yet he had to. He didn't know why, but he had to keep living. He couldn't remember why. He didn't understand his own logic. But he glanced down at his hand and clutched tight in shaking fingers, he held a long, sharp pair of scissors. His eyes lingered for only a moment before flicking back towards the abomination of his own creation.A flurry of appendages came whizzing towards him and he charged forward to meet them. Ducking, tilting, hitting the ground and rolling out of the way, sending a spray of water-like droplets through the air as he slowly but surely closed the distance. They were quiet now. So was he. He pushed closer. A tendril cut his cheek, tore through his side, across his neck, through a leg. He pushed through it. And now that he was hooked he was speared from all angles and there was nothing he could do about it. His body came to a stop and jerked violently under the force of each accumulative impact. He swayed, as if he were going to fall over, but at the last possible second he righted himself, regained his balance, and pushed through it again, his eyes empty. He was driven by single purpose. And then he was standing inches away from it, littered with wounds. He placed his hand on it's shoulder. Slowly, with careful precision, he shoved the scissors through its gut and dug it in.And Cold Fervor erupt from its back, still glowing dimly as the remnants of his Sword Art faded from the blade's edge.It laughed. Its voice was one, singular, and kind above all else, if not carrying the slightest twinge of melancholy. Pinball held them close. Wrapped his hand around their back again, even as his sword was stuck through it, and held them tightly, shaking like a leaf, as though if he thought that if he let go, they would fade away and leave him with nothing but memories."Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Pinball took them both to their knees, his arms still wrapped tightly around them."Set me down easy, now. There..." They let out a soft sigh of relief. Of bliss, but also of resignation. It was bittersweet but he didn't want it to end."Listen. Tomorrow is a new day. When you're ready, come home, okay?"As their life slowly drained in his arms, Pinball let their head rest on his tear-stained shoulder, tilted his own head back, and screamed.
Action Taken: Sword Art - Shadow Explosion [-13 EN] {Well Rested}
Grief: ID#187732 BD: 8 (Hit) MD: 2 (Miss) ~ 20*15= 300-5= 295 DMG + FREEZEPinball: 760/760 HP | 101/114 EN | 20 DMG | 3 EVA | 3 ACC | 8-10 FRZ | Phase
Grief: 0/190 HP | 80 DMG | 5 MIT -
The world was melting around him. The very fabric of reality dripped and puddled into miasmic nothingness at his feet, chunks of space sloughing off of itself as if it were finally shedding its skin and revealing something much darker and more twisted beneath its discarded veneer than had originally seemed to be. It was confusing. Mind breaking. It sent him into a panic. There was no longer any bathroom, no apartment, no outside to speak of. There was still no SAO, no Aincrad, no ties that held him there.There was just that place, that moment, and that thing, and the very concept of substance spontaneously ripping itself apart."Y-you -- I don't..." But he couldn't even find the words. Honestly though, who would be able to while staring that sort of thing down? It was a morphing amalgamation of people he had known, people he had wronged, speaking at once and lashing out weirdly, unnaturally, clawing its inhuman mass towards him slowly with fleshy, spike-like tendrils that anchored onto what would be the floor if there was one to speak of."You left me," it groaned, and then it shuddered with unimaginable anger. "You left me!"He tried to speak again but physically couldn't. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move, he couldn't guard himself from the horrible feeling of dread and guilt and anxiety and fury and annoyance and sadness, sadness above all else, weighing so heavily on him that his knees buckled under the weight of it all, and he cupped his head in his palms and trembled. One after another, the memories that had driven stakes through his forehead flooded his mind again. Of Lucy, of Froppy, Dustin, Mishiro, of the what-ifs that could have been but now never could be, all because of the life he had lived and the choices he had made. It was terrifying. It held him back. Pulled him back, kept him from moving forward, and it was trying to drown him in the waters of anguish. And it was winning that fight. It always had been.There was no way out. It crept closer to him. He couldn't utter a single word in protest."Come home," it pleaded."Come home," it screamed.
-
While hearts prickled by despair would never easily mend, trying his best to focus on them and nothing else made the torrent of turbulent emotions somewhat easier to endure. Soon he would steady, and he'd take deep breaths, and the violent shaking would subside. Not once did they let go or leave him, nor did they even try to in the first place -- they were there for him, unconditionally, his anchor in a cyclone of madness. He returned to them."Thank you," he said, punctuated by a measured breath, "thank you. I'm sorry.""Don't be sorry," they replied, "I'm here for you. Always. How are you feeling?""Better.""Good. Come on, you should wash your face. Do you need help?"He didn't think so. But he wanted help. He hesitated for a second, but a second was all it took for them to start standing with him."Come on. Let's take it slow."They did. They were with him every step of the way, his hand in theirs, even as the pain in his head grew worse and he slowed, frustratingly cupping his eye and leaning against the bed post for support. But whenever he stopped, he grit his teeth and pushed forward. Their hand never left his. The bathroom wasn't far, but with every step the room seemed to stretch and they seemed that much further from it. But he didn't care. As long as they were there with him he could live with that pain."It was just a nightmare.""..." He mulled it over, then nodded in agreement. "Yeah.""A really bad one.""The worst.""Here. Just rinse off a bit. You'll feel a lot better after."Suddenly, they were in the bathroom, and he stood leaning in front of the basin, his eyes on the running water rushing across its edges and down the drain. He reached out for it, but stopped before his fingers touched the stream. He pulled away from it, troubled."About the dream.""...""It was so... dark. And lonely. And it felt like there was no end to it. Like there was no point to it, either. Not for others, but for me specifically, and I- I felt so lost. But here, I-""Well, of course it was dark. And lonely. And cold, too, right? I've heard it all before. It's all you talk about. All you think about."A chill ran up his spine. For some reason..."You deserved it. Every single second and every sleepless night. You deserved all of it, and so much more."He looked up, into the mirror, at the thing standing beside him, and he felt his heart drop."You deserved it for leaving me," it wailed.
-
Thum-thum-thum-thum-thum.The noisy rhythmic hum of an electric fan above woke him. Although the curtains were drawn and he could not see through them, he could hear the birds singing, and he knew that it was likely early morning, and that his neighbors were probably getting ready for the day and that if he wanted to have a productive one himself, he needed to get out of bed and do the same. He wasted too many days by sleeping in far too late, and even past that, many more were spent taking naps or otherwise lazing about the house. It was about time for a change, and with what sun was peeking through the blinds and brightening his room, he knew that there was no better time for it.Of course, getting up wasn't always that easy. Especially not when you're heavily inclined towards the allure of rest. Tiredly running his hands across his eyes and rolling over in bed, he held a silent five-minute long debate with the wall as to whether or not he should flip the blankets over and sleep in just a while longer. Unfortunately, the wall won the argument in the end, and all at once he got up in a hurry to get ready, telling himself that if he hurried and got it over with quickly, he wouldn't have to suffer through it as much.Or he would have, should he have been able to make it to the dresser before doubling over in a spontaneous fit of agony.Excruciating pain. Like someone was shoving a hot knife into his skull. Like his mind was simultaneously being gripped at either side and being slowly ripped apart. Letting out a strangled scream through clenched teeth, he slammed the top of the dresser as memories came rushing in. Thoughts and feelings and still images of scenes long since past. Of love and joy, but mostly of sorrow and grief and struggle and pain. There was no escaping it. There was no end to the flood that came crashing down on him, seemingly intent on uprooting the very foundations of his psyche, viciously and mercilessly turning everything to indistinguishable ruin. There was no end.Until he felt the touch of their hand on his shoulder."Hey. You're okay."And they embraced him, and he embraced them too, even while he was shaking like a leaf in their arms and he was desperately clinging to the back of their shirt as if he thought that if he let go, they would fade away and leave him with nothing but his memories.
-
He found himself greedily gasping for air as his eyes shot open.There was nothing around him. Or more specifically, there was an absence of anything.Fathomless void surrounded and enveloped him. With his hand on his throat, Pinball staggered and stumbled his way forward through an endless expanse of darkness, his head on a swivel, searching for something - an exit, a person, some hint or clue as to where he even was. The floor beneath him was merely a reflection of the void above, and with every step sent receptive ripples throughout as though he were walking across water. But it wasn't water, and there was no depth to it or anything else, and although he travelled for what felt like hours, by the time he finally came to a stop there was no obvious sign that he had even made progress in the first place.Pinball had found absolutely nothing.But there was also something else to it. It was very obvious to him that he couldn't focus. And despite knowing that, for the life of him, he could grimace and grit his teeth and furrow his brow in frustration all he wanted, because he didn't know why. He didn't know where he was, or why he was there, how he had gotten there, or what was happening to him. It almost felt like someone had blindfolded the eyes of his conscious mind, and was now quietly shepherding him along through the darkness for a purpose unknown; he quite simply couldn't make heads or tails of anything past the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach that something was terribly wrong, and that there was something horrifying waiting for him just around the corner.Was he still in Aincrad? Was he dead? He had so many questions but nothing to draw answers from, and when he tried to connect the dots that cloudiness settled in and he found himself horrendously incapable of doing so. And it felt like the longer he dwelled on it, the harder he tried to break free of that sickeningly imposed blindness, the more severe his questions became. "Where am I?" eventually twisted into "Who am I?" The realization was unsettling beyond comprehension, and it dissuaded him from any further attempts to peek beyond the veil.So he kept walking, because there was nothing else he could do.Seconds stretched into what felt like years, years to centuries, and eventually he collapsed and could go no further.That's when he saw it. As if had simultaneously placed itself right in front of him just as he had fallen into hopeless despair. He pushed himself to his feet again just so he could stand frozen in awe at its base: a colossal oak stood stalwart in the middle of an eternal, miasmic night. Its roots were gnarled and thick and strong, and it stretched up into powerful, sturdy branches supporting a massive canopy of glowing, golden leaves. It was beautiful. It was comforting. No, it was comfort. He wanted to curl up against its mighty trunk and sleep knowing that he was protected by its defiant independence -- that no matter what happened, no matter where he was or wasn't, he would not be swept away by the world's omnipresent gloom.And then the tree reached out and spoke to him, and it told him a story of: "R E G R E T."
-
Players Stats:
SpoilerLevel: 31 (Paragon Level 36)
Health: 760 | Energy: 114
DMG: 20 | ACC: 3 | EVA: 3
Skills:
Combat Skills:
►Combat Mastery - Damage [13/13]: Rank 3
►Energist [8 SP]
Weapon Skills:
►One-Handed Straight Sword [30/30]: Rank 5
►Martial Arts [8/30]: Rank 2
Utility Skills:
►Searching [30/30]: Rank 5
►Extended Mod Limit [10 SP]
Extra Skills:
►Hiding [30/30 SP] ~ Rank 5
►Parry [10 SP]
►Survival
Familiar Skill:
►Grappling Familiar [10 SP]
Armor Skills:
►N/A
Modifiers:
►Vanish
►Justified Riposte
►Night Vision
►Detect
►Tracking
►Reveal
►1HSS Ferocity
Inventory
»[Equipped] [Demonic] Cold Fervor: +2 Freeze, Phase, Cursed
»[Equipped] [Perfect] Dragon’s Skin: +3 EVA
»[Equipped] [Perfect] Warrior’s Focus: +3 ACC
Battle Ready:
» [2x] Teleportation Crystal
» [Demonic 1HSS] Jack’s Hellfire: Burn, Bleed, Blight, Cursed
» [Demonic 1HSS] Astral Blade: Holy, Fallen, +2 DamageHousing Buffs:
Spoiler“Well Rested”: -1 energy cost for the first three expenditures of each combat
“Squeaky Clean”: The first time you would suffer DoT damage in a thread, reduce damage taken from DoT each turn by 25% (rounded down)
“Filling”: Increase the effectiveness of a single food item consumed in a thread by +1 T1 slot. This can exceed normal Cook enhancement caps. Ex: A perfect T2 MIT food gives 35 MIT instead of 30
“Relaxed”: Increases HP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts.
“Item Stash”: +1 Battle Ready Inventory Slotonce, there stood a tree by the road.high. proud. strong. it stood away from everyone,doing neither harm nor good to anyone. it had never loved anyone,nor had it ever flowered. it was dependent on no-one,and no-one was dependent on it.the tree knew how to keep everyone at bay.the forest, the field, and the road with all its travelers.
and it had always been like this.
Shit.His vision was spinning. His head felt fuzzy. There was no worse time for it.Shit.If exhaustion could kill someone in Aincrad, Pinball would have been dead on his feet long ago. He knew that. It was why he was still running, barreling through hanging vines and snagging underbrush with an unabashed sense of urgency. But it couldn't kill him. This was something different entirely. So why here? Why now? It wasn't like he'd even been awake for very long. His sleepless nights were behind him -- at least for the most part. With a frustrated shake of his head, he tried to wrest the imminent wave of nausea away. He had to stay up. He had to keep going.His body disagreed. Overtaken by a dizzy spell mid-stride, his vision blanked and he felt himself stumble. His boot snagged on something, and he lost balance, uprooting thorny brambles as he fell over and slid across the forest floor. Where pain would have been was replaced with the dull sensation of being poked, courtesy of the ever benevolent Cardinal. At least there was a bright side.And then all was still. The young swordsman flipped onto his back, heaving, his body riddled with bright red tears and cuts and pricks, his health lower for it. But that was the least of his concern. He couldn't run. Pinball blinked slowly, still wheezing and coughing and struggling, unable to move himself. Above him the canopy swayed with the wind, and birds fluttered above and below thick branches. The sunlight was in his eyes, and what golden rays around him could pierce the close-knit mesh of trees above dappled the forest floor in splashes of brilliant illuminated color. Slowly, with much effort, he winced and brought the back of his hand to cover his face. He closed his eyes, just for a moment.But he must have blacked out. When he opened them, he was on his side, and he could now hear the steady crash of a waterfall and see the bubbling stream of a river beside him. Despite himself, he was crawling towards it. With staggered movements, he used his knees and elbows to push and pull towards it. He had to get there. Why did he have to get there? For some reason, in spite of the painstakingly expended effort to try and remember, he couldn't. He blinked again and he felt his balance tilt.When he opened his eyes this time, he was on his hands and knees, sagging limply in front of the rushing water. And he was thirsty. So thirsty. His throat felt like it was on fire. Pinball scooped up water in cupped palms, but instead of drinking from it, he splashed it across his face and rubbed it in. Again. And again. His eyes were burning. But he had to get up. To wake up. And although the water was simulated and the sensation on his skin was not quite like the water he remembered from all those years ago, he had hope that it would do the trick. He reached out again for another cup but stopped.There was something in the water. His eyes widened. Pinball reached for it, his hand breaking the surface of the water, the sound of the waterfall in the background slowly fading away -- and like a rug being pulled out from under him, he was gone, descended suddenly into the blackest depths of unconsciousness. -
SUMMARY
Mega Slime Farm Bonus: +10% EXP Gain
Paragon Level Bonus (36): +3% EXP Gain, +10% Equivalent to EXP Col Gain7,779 Words / 50 = 155
3*4= 12*155= 1,860+241 (% Increases) =
2,101 EXP Gained3,300 (Treasure Chest) + 210 (%gain) =
3,510 Col
8 Materials
T3 Perfect Cloth Armor <<Unidentified>>
T3 Perfect Consumable <<Unidentified>>Requesting Unique Skill Roll upon closure.
Bahr
ID# 187804 results:
Battle: 1
Craft: 8
Loot: 16
MOB: 2
US Roll Failed. -
How was this done again?
Right. Flip the latch, flip the lid. There was a key-hole to insert if you had one of the items you bought from a merchant, and he knew that it'd give you better chances at better loot if you did use one of them, but he didn't have any, and so he rolled the dice and kept his fingers crossed that he wouldn't have another fight on his hands so soon after his failure in the dungeon.
As fate would have it, he was lucky. A small amount of Col was gifted to him, 8 Materials, of which he noticed were no longer tiered items, and a set of Unidentified Cloth Armor and a Consumable that he would never ever use, ever. To the point he made a mental note to find out whether or not merchant junk sales were still a thing. But he'd worry about that later.
Kicking the empty chest over, Pinball turned away and returned to the dirt path ahead of him. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets again and he continued to walk, walk, and walk, until his feet gave out from underneath him and he needed to stop and rest.
As he had done yesterday and the night before that, and as he would continue to do.
Opening Treasure Chest:
ID#187619 LD: 18Loot:
- 3,300 Col
- 8 Materials
- T3 Perfect Cloth Armor <<Unidentified>>
- T3 Perfect Consumable <<Unidentified>>
-
What was he even doing?
His aimless wanderings beginning to take a toll on him, Pinball would eventually have exited the Forest of Memories and came to a stop beside one of the many glittering lakes that populated the 22nd Floor. For a moment he stood there on the path, not daring to inch closer to its shore. Silent. Watching. The blue waves were still. Tranquil. And he knew then that this life, one spent basking in the warmth and radiance, was something much more beautiful than shivering and chipping away in the frigid tundra and thickly layered forests of snow. But a break, allowing himself to stop and smell the roses, was not something he deserved. Lately it had been harder and harder to keep reminding himself that, but he was stubbornly persistent, and he would not give into temptation until his job was done and he was gifted the coward's death that he deserved.
For the sake of it, Pinball's eyes flashed yellow and he gave his surroundings a quick once-over. A treasure chest? There was something buried beside the water, and so Pinball begrudgingly moved closer and dug through the sand and mud and muck to unearth the box.
Searching for Treasure Chest:
ID#187618 LD: 10+5= 15 (Success) -
While his walk had originally been intended as something aimless, he eventually decided to revisit a few of the new key locations of the floor.
First was the Reclaimed Sentinel. He headed towards the giant statue and saw it looming in the distance before he got there. Once he was, Pinball simply stood in the center of the area, at the base of the destroyed golem, staring up at a statue that was as crumbled as it was still imposing. He brushed his hand against its cool, smooth cut surface and let him pull away at some of the vines that were particularly gnarled and overgrown in the area. He'd heard a couple of NPCs talking about it earlier, when he'd passed the farmer's market. Something about a benevolent guardian.
It was at least something to think about.
He turned around to leave, and as he walked beneath them briefly considered climbing some of the stone spires surrounding before dismissing the idea as childish and pointless. Pinball didn't look back and promptly returned to his dull and monotonous trek through the floor, his head down and his spirits low; of which was his normal state. His mind wandered as the breeze granted some reprieve from the intense sun up above.
-
"So, what did you learn?"
Pinball walked the dirt path alone, though Zomekko floated lazily along beside him, staring up at her master with a blank gaze. If anyone had been around to see the player with an orange cursor walking near towns and muttering to himself, they'd surely give him a wide berth or attempt to apprehend the totally crazed murderer - but there were no such people nearby, and Pinball wasn't really all that crazed anymore. Just tired, and depressed, and very, very guilty. He closed his eyes and finally responded to his own question.
"Well, for starters, I probably should have brought a damage potion. Or something with Protein. Probably both."
He scratched his neck and rolled his head, sighing.
"Yeah, probably both. I probably would have been able to finish it if I had. I also hate spiders now, so that's new. Super fun stuff all around."
That ever-present light breeze brushed against him now, causing Pinball to slow to a stop and the gaseous Zomekko to retreat to the jar at his waist for fear of blowing away. Pinball looked out across the burbling stream that ran alongside the path and breathed in the fresh air. He was getting frustrated over nothing. With a quiet exhale, he resumed the walk.
"Great update, Kayaba."
Alright, maybe he was still a little bit annoyed.
-
Fish up a big fish. Pinball winced. Lazy writing was one thing. Fishing was something else entirely.
"Not sure," came the quiet response, "but I've been starting to wonder that myself."
His eyes were on the path and nothing but the path. The thought of looking at the woman beside him made him super uncomfortable - hell, so did talking to her - so he was inclined to keep his neck stiff and his mouth shut. Unluckily for Mr. Doom and Gloom, it was already too late. He'd made his bed by opting to continue that conversation and now he had to lie in it. Begrudgingly, he formed some sort of passable reply. "Yeah. Me too."
And then silence. Sweet and beautiful silence.
But he wouldn't get to enjoy it for long. Not five seconds after he'd finished speaking, the trees began to rapidly thin into an abrupt stop, leaving nothing but sand and ocean waters in front of them. Once he'd left the forest's protection, multiple sensations hit him all at once. The smell of the ocean, the sound of its waves crashing against the shore, the borderline unpleasant tingle of the virtual sun against his unguarded skin. A weaker part of him almost wanted to slink back into the shade and make himself sparse in the shadows, but Pinball knew all too well that he wouldn't have been able to do it without a guilty conscience -- and an even guiltier conscience was something he most definitely did not care for.
He didn't say anything else, but instead stepped out into the sand, looking both ways for the dock. His gaze locked onto a shabby looking pier with an even shabbier looking dinghy tied to it. Nestled inside the boat were likely the fishing rods they needed for the quest, but looking at it, Pinball was not too confident on the thing's ability to stay afloat for much longer. Driftwood looked sturdier.
"Right... there it is."
Player Stats:
SpoilerLevel: 62
Health: 1240 | Energy: 124
DMG: 15 | ACC: 3 | EVA: 3 | BH: 62
Skills:
Combat skills:
►<<Battle Healing>> [50/50]: Rank 5 - Grandmaster
Weapon skills:
►<<2H Assault Spear>> [50/50]: Rank 5 - Grandmaster
►<<1H Straight Sword>> [50/50]: Rank 5 - Grandmaster
Armor skills:
►N/A
Extra skills:
►<<Familiar Mastery: Fighter>> [18/18]: Rank 3 - Grandmaster
►<<Martial Arts>> [0/50]: N/A
►<<Survival>> ~ Active
Utility Skills:
►<<Hiding>> [50/50]: Rank 5 - Grandmaster
►<<Extended Mod Limit>> [2/10]: Rank 1 - Novice
Modifiers:
►[Active] <<2H Assault Spear: Ferocity>>: +1 Base DMG
►[Active] <<2H Assault Spear: Finesse>> ~ Rank 3
►[Active] <<Sneak Attack: Trickster>>
►[Active] <<Hiding: Vanish>>
►[Active] <<Hiding: Untraceable>>
►[Active] <<Hiding: Blindside>>
Inventory
»[Equipped] [Demonic] Jack’s Hellfire: Burn, Blight, Bleed, Cursed
»[Equipped] [Perfect] Dragon’s Skin: +3 EVA
»[Equipped] [Perfect] Warrior’s Focus: +3 ACC -
But it just wasn't meant to be.
"Squee!"
"Fuck yourself."
Flicking a TP Crystal from a pouch on his belt, Pinball lifted it high above his head. With a simple phrase, his avatar shone bright and exploded in a flash of vibrant color, briefly illuminating the dungeon's final chamber in a display the likes of which the sheltered little Needlessly Swole Spiderling had likely never seen before, and likely never will again, although mostly because it would probably despawn once most players left the areas around it.
The whole TP Crystal business was old news. He'd said the first thing that came to his mind, which was Coral, the floor's main settlement, and so he hurried off towards the border of the Safe Zone before any of the haphazardly armed "guards" in the town saw him and decided to remove him forcefully. He didn't need to get the boot. It was a practiced song and dance for a PKer. At this point in his life, he didn't even have to think about where to go, how to go, and how quickly. The evasion of the authorities was a craft that he had perfected, for better or for worse.
He left the area and resumed his leisurely stroll.
Action Taken: USING TP CRYSTAL
-
One more attack.
Right. He'd unleash one last sword art, one last strike, and maybe - just maybe - if he got lucky enough, he'd be able to pull something out of his ass that would completely turn the tides of the battle. Oh how absolutely unaware the cutesy-but-undeniably-jacked spirderling was of Pinball's life or death predicament. Ignorance truly was bliss at times, and what Pinball would give to revert back into that shitty "I'll fucking kill everything" state of grief for just that moment. Just so he didn't have to deal with looking at the rotten bastard in front of him for a minute longer.
Alas, Meteor Break came and went.
In the end it was not enough. Pinball watched even as his most powerful available Sword Art but the Needlessly Swole Spiderling at a precarious level. Agonized over how if he just had that much more energy, that much more damage, he would have been able to conquer the dungeon's keeper and return to the surface stronger for that struggle.
Action Taken: Sword Art - Meteor Break [-16 EN/+1 EN]
Needlessly Swole Spiderling: ID#187569 BD: 6 (Hit) ~ 20*16= 320-150= 170 DMGPinball: 674/970 HP | 39/114 EN | 20 DMG | 5 ACC | 5 EVA | 8-10/FRZ | Phase
Cooldowns: Shadow Explosion (1/3) | Meteor Break (0/2)Needlessly Swole Spiderling: 435/1,200 HP | 270 DMG | 150 MIT | 2 ACC | 1 EVA
{STUNNED} -
He unleashed Shadow Explosion. There was no point in letting it go to waste.
Oh, boy, now he was sweating bullets.
"Squee!"
And that annoyingly persistent fucker really wasn't helping. Since when had his total Energy values been that low? He was practically scraping the bottom of the barrel now. There weren't exact numbers listed beside those two important bars, but Pinball had gotten pretty damn good at mathematical approximation by just looking at it since his time spent in the game. He had two, maybe three Sword Arts left at his disposal, tops, before he hit empty. And that third strike was pushing it. By then, his Shatter stacks would have been burnt up and used completely, and he had little to no faith in that last strike's ability to finish the job.
Pinball grimaced. Dodged another attack. Now just what was he supposed to do now? Shit. I'm...
Action Taken: Sword Art - Shadow Explosion [-14 EN EN/+1 EN]
Needlessly Swole Spiderling: ID#187568 BD: 4+4= 8 (Hit) MD: 7 (Miss) ~ 20*15= 300-150= 150 DMGPinball: 642/970 HP | 54/114 EN | 20 DMG | 5 ACC | 5 EVA | 8-10/FRZ | Phase
Cooldowns:Meteor Break (2/2)| Shadow Explosion (0/3) |Nova Ascension (1/1)Needlessly Swole Spiderling: 605/1,200 HP | 270 DMG | 150 MIT | 2 ACC | 1 EVA {STUNNED}
-
Shatter was an Extra Skill unlocked with the completion of that one quest he couldn't remember the name of.
But he knew it was the one that he'd finished with Reinholt all that time ago, and he knew what it allowed him to do. It went as follows.
First, Pinball willed Shatter into the blade. Cold Fervour would begin to glow bright as though he were activating a Sword Art, but that effect would only last until the conclusion of his next successful attack. So, to get the maximum oomph out of it, he activated Nova Ascension with it. As the spiderling mindlessly charged its opponent, Pinball eagerly laid another series of strikes into its already riddled-with-wounds body, mercilessly cutting through its natural defenses all the easier. To the sound of crunching, fractured air, Pinball drove the monster's HP further and further into dangerous depths.
Although the same could be said for his Energy. He noticed its significant drop now out of the corner of his eye.
Action Taken: Sword Art - Nova Ascension [-12 EN/+1 EN]
Needlessly Swole Spiderling: ID#187567 BD: 7 (Hit) MD: 8-4= 4 (Miss) ~ 20*13= 260-150= 110 DMGPinball: 642/970 HP | 67/114 EN | 20 DMG | 5 ACC | 5 EVA | 8-10/FRZ | Phase
Cooldowns: Meteor Break (1/2) |Shadow Explosion (3/3)| Nova Ascension (0/1)Needlessly Swole Spiderling: 755/1,200 HP | 270 DMG | 150 MIT | 2 ACC | 1 EVA
-
And all of a sudden the fight had regained some miniscule semblance of normalcy.
The Needlessly Swole Spiderling jumped to attack him again, but with a far superior sense of dexterity and agility Pinball sidestepped, unleashing a furious barrage of sword strikes against the spiderling as it hung suspended by the force in mid-air. As it was pressured backwards Pinball pressed forward, slamming it up and down and around like a ball he was juggling across the edge of his sword, but instead of juggling he was trying to kill it. Finally the Sword Art reached its conclusion, and as Pinball's body registered that brief moment of delay between the usage of such arts, the boss mob's body went ragdolling across the room, kicking up clouds of glittering silver webs as it went.
But it jumped back to its feet with that same "no thoughts, head empty" enthusiasm about it and started skittering towards him again unprompted.
Action Taken: Sword Art - Meteor Break [-16 EN/+1 EN]
Needlessly Swole Spiderling: ID#187566 BD: 2+4= 6 (Hit) MD: 7-3= 4 (Miss) ~ 20*16= 320-150= 170 DMGPinball: 642/970 HP | 78/114 EN | 20 DMG | 5 ACC | 5 EVA | 8-10/FRZ | Phase
Cooldowns:Parry (3/3)| Meteor Break (0/2) | Shadow Explosion (2/3) |Nova Ascension (1/1)Needlessly Swole Spiderling: 865/1,200 HP | 270 DMG | 150 MIT | 2 ACC | 1 EVA
hey im learning how to pick locks and i need funds pls
in Player Request Board
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also taking the little t3 field ration ty bb