Arabelle

"his name was callisto and he was dead, too." flowers. a corpse. stars. delicate lives were smote by the mere scent of the bear's curse and the waters of the shallow lake were brown with filth. strip the carcass of the last of its rotting flesh and it would have been a picture-perfect match with the rest of her friends, only, a bear is a bit too much for their first pet and margaret doesn't want it anywhere near her garden. her friends could only destroy themselves if handled correctly. "when we broke half, he started to project some kind of sob story. no one really looked thoug

she does anyway, and they all startle. the skeletons at her legs scamper off like frightened dogs, quite literally, as some of them fall over in the stampede and have to gallop on all fours, and the two that had been dozing on her lap push and shove at each other as they race to join the rest. a soft ‘thud’ out of her sight impels her to turn. halfway past the wide sliding door leading back to her house, a skeleton dressed in a doctor’s coat had dropped her med bag. its jaw drops comically low in surprise and it scratches its bald head with both hands. then it jumps up and down a couple of tim

(be with me in the sacred witchery of almostness which may makes follow soon on the sweet heels of passed afterday, margaret barely makes it a few steps into her villa before hangover sickness and exhaustion take reign of her and she faints right where she stands. she wakes up in a completely different part of her house surrounded by her friends. they are on the front porch overlooking the gardens and the artificial sun that keeps them all alive. there are arms around her: she is being loosely hugged from be

she doesn't drink. (sending the following to pollux.) (5) Rumbling Rum Party Favor | 10% INSTANT MASS HEAL | [>>] 234141, 234142, 234143, 234144, 234145 (5) Rumbling Rum Party Favor | 10% INSTANT MASS HEAL | [>>] 234105-2, 234105-3, 234108, 234112-1, 234112-2

some motherfucker. their backline is barely holding against the swarm and its parent is only three-fourths dead. jomei rushes forward to assassinate shub-niggurath. she flares out the side of her cloak, shaking off excess rain, the menu bubbles at her fingertips bright and thrumming, and she throws herself back into the dance. nine meters in front of jomei, an insect’s head snaps backwards, a needle embedded between its bulging thousand-eyes. its mouth opens in a wordless scream and a blade carves it permanent. the shadow of amaterasu, extending, slashes a half moon of space for her and her pa

half the first health bar on non-modified tech. and, her wound reopened the moment she hit it, some thorns. why all the fanfare, then? dozens of shub-niggurath's empty eyes fume at her, the flesh of its eyelids flowering open and shut. it is lying on a bed of butterfly corpses and she hears their fellows crying in grief. she bids the rest of them to depart and shifts her red eyes sidewards to a menu bubble she is holding open beneath the folds of her cloak. jomei, coming from the wrong side of town, is now circling back to meet her. she draws her cloak tighter around herself and drop

it doesn't move. it doesn't regard anyone in particular. it begins and ends its short address to the audience collective when the key in her hand reaches seventeen full rotations. fear bubbles through the crowd. a man spills out from the portal and hacks and coughs out water before struggling to a stand. he finds that half the tide has reversed, the wiser of the remaining lot clamoring for the exit. many had twisted around to face the source of the voice at their ear only to find that it wasn't there. the faceless entity raises its hand upwards to the sky. her red eyes follow the mot

forgot its entire face. always so annoying when that happens. "go. go." gloved hands shove a pair of stunned players to the side. she crosses the gap as the light of the portal winds down behind her -- it takes a mere second's rest, then it flashes again, bringing forth another group of eager yet unprepared adventurers -- and she pulls off her hood to bare her face; her tempestuous red eyes. she pushes her way to the front of the arriving crowd, sweeping an arm out to deter any player behind her from moving forward. everyone who had been near the entity had more or less bac

she cuts her--- it open from- shoulder to torso-- it staggers, breath heaving, inches an agonized step from the door towards jomei's silent taunt; its three limbs are twisted in all the wrong ways and it fruitlessly attempts to feel about its chest for the measure of the inflicted wound, and from the neck up, the clasp falling open and a muddied cloak spilling to the ground, its head is an insect's, membrane and exoskeleton sewn into human skin. a thin reedy whine whistles from its throat. the last sound it ever makes before the woman crushes its offending head with the blunt of

acanthus nods and goes straight to business. "--and check it out? ara--" “arabelle.” "--your presence would make things easier--" a mining site? boring and irrelevant. if acanthus were confident enough in her abilities to enlist in the frontlines, she was likely correct in her assessment that she could solo any trash she and her partner may run into. but arabelle doesn’t take long to consider the opposing position, her shoulders lifting in an unbothered shrug. why not take the bait? she’s already here. “oh! i don’t mind! you wouldn’t happen to be an appraiser too, would you

-> POST ACTION: AOE-II vs Shamblers 21-24. yeah no more well-rested tracking it literally doesn't matter.

-> POST ACTION: AOE-I vs Shamblers 17-20.

-> POST ACTION: AOE-II vs Shamblers 13-16.

-> POST ACTION: AOE-I vs Shamblers 9-12.

-> POST ACTION: AOE-II vs Shamblers 5-8.

-> POST ACTION: AOE-I vs Shamblers 1-4.

heavens above. not again. arabelle had chanced upon the boy's camp whilst out on an excursion. she also happens to be looking to restock her array of consumables since floor 29's opening and bargain deals to her are like a siren call. old habits die hard and such. so, with great consternation, smoothing her expression into the usual friendly smile, arabelle wanders over to the menu and indicates her choices. she has five servings of laddu but she wants to keep one, if she wants to replenish them all at once when they run out again... "four of each. thank you."

non-linear narrative (?). (received.)

oh, it's just the new floor messing everything up. nothing to see here, she supposes. (accepted.) (trading the following to night.) 10 mats. 2 demonic shards. wayfinder LOOT DIE III [SHOP] | TIER 1 PERFECT TRINKET | [state]: crafted a star-shaped charm made up of various translucent teal-coloured petals, framed with silver and held together with taut strings. at its center is a stylized metal heart, and at one of the petals' ends is a loop tied with a knot, so that the charm is capable of being hung or locked around another object. the item calls back to a foreign myt

i wear no mask. "sit down," he says. she sits. she takes the only upright stool at the bar, the one where he had also lain his cloak, and her hands unthinkingly follow an old, well-loved motion of gathering up the ends where they might graze the flats of her dirty shoes, folding them instead over her lap. this floor is under quarantine, she wants to say, primly, like the newly decorated frontliner she is, like he will never be, but somewhere between the first step past the cracked threshold and the thence bitter recognit

misplaces an entire demonic shard. (traded to ariel.)

"not an off base assumption ara--" "arabelle." "--wasn't callisto supposed to..." she listens, her red eyes following the man as he appears to assume headship of the group, but where wulfrin fully loses her is in the second part of his guess. not to mention how pretentious it is to think their hunt had any bearing. even when cursed, callisto had done nothing but sit pretty in His lair, maul the occasional unlucky hunter or animal, until the frontlines had gone and poked the proverbial bear. would anything have changed in a month? a year? oh, this was the one that brought a raid

for His last act, callisto had looked to the sky. they thought Him mindless, a puppet, a corpse cursed to sate its once-soul's rage, but in the end, what little that remained had finally bid the body to lay itself to sleep and His eyes searched for comfort in dispassionate stars. He had no place among them. after, arabelle, standing distant from her party after her last attack, collapses. the water is still there, and with her legs folded beneath her and her palms braced on the hard ground, almost half of her ends up soaked. it's over. she killed the bear. she's trembling u

-> claiming: (2) maddening hex.

"no, thank you, an," arabelle corrects. she takes the demonic from an -- heavy! -- and hefts its blade to point upwards, running a finger down the sharp edge. a thin red line slits open the flat of her index. she continues, careful to lighten her tone. "absolute accuracy and vampiric... only to land on a sword." "ehehehe-- sorry, sorry!!" "i'll find some use for it. actually, an, keep a record of this one's enhancements. if a straight sword user comes looking for this combination, you can send them to me." an straightens, her shyness ebbing away at the talk of another transactio