Morningstar

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Her instructor was a taekwondo professional in Korea until he was thirty-five. Then, when he moved to the United States, he retired and taught classes. At fifty-seven, he was still an active teacher, and challenged Willow to surpass her own efforts. Jeong Sang-hyeok always seemed to be at the dojang, even on his days off. He was wiping down mirrors when Willow came by. "Annyeonghaseyo," she bowed, slightly lower than Jeong Sang-hyeok. She admired him greatly. "Willow. We don't have lessons today, do we?" "I was hoping I could practice on the heavy bag." "Of course."

Willow was stronger than Star in a lot of ways. She was far more brave, and quite patient. She was controlled and focused. In a literal sense, she was a much better martial artist. They sparred often, ever since Star received his <<Martial Arts>> skill, and Star rarely came out on top. She was good before the doors of the video game sealed shut. She trained for many years, in a variety of styles. Taekwondo was her favorite. Sparring was fun, but sports like boxing and jiu-jitsu lacked the performative aspect that she so enjoyed. And, obviously, kicking things was a great way t

He stared at his now shorter arm. There was not much he could do about it. Wielding his sword was out of the question–at least, it would be far less effective than simply not. With the hand that was still attached, he took his blade from Acanthus, only to toss it back in his inventory. “No,” he told her. “No, keep going. I’ll manage. Hands grow back,” he joked, although they lived in a world where that was true. Freyd cleared past them, spectraling the Spectral Knight until it was completely spectraled. Morningstar could only repeat what the others told Freyd. He had been with t

and so morningstar gnna take this one thanks

free magical girl weapons!! @Arabelle damocles :: 245765 :: t4 demonic scythe (axe) :: holy 2 / keen / bleed CELUI QUI S'ÉLÈVE ON L'ABAISSERA. this weapon takes the form of a black scythe, far larger than its wielder. its structure is noticeably warped, the defect most evident in the unusual curve of its rod and the sharp spear-like points that tip both ends of the handle, an unsteady grip, and a difficult weapon in the hands of all but its wielder's. when channeling sword arts, weapon and master are engulfed in a black flame. when spun once in the master's hand, the weapon folds i

ok great work

Morningstar needs a fusion so he goes to his fusioneer.

ok fine

summary. | col: 9120 (id) - 1900 (junk) = 7220 | 06/27/2025 | total: -7220 | [link] rolls. data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAPABAP///wAAACH5BAEKAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAICRAEAOw== items. data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAPABAP///wAAACH5BAEKAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAICRAEAOw==

ok... time to craft again... 6.27.2025 Trading Hall III active - 1 free reroll per unid

thread summary Morningstar receives: 855 EXP | (475/5)*9 25748 col | 25620 [loot] + 128 [p15] 8 materials 1 mon 1 Demonic Shard Random Dungeon Map 245748 T4 Perfect Weapon 245740a, 245740b, 245740c, 245745a, 245745b, 245745c, 245746a, 245746b, 245746c

Willow tended to get mad when he came back without her groceries. He didn't make lists (because he was above that). He went purely off memory. He couldn't remember whether she said eight or nine catfish, but since eight was a round number, he opted for the former. In the nearby pool of water, Morningstar waded around, knee deep. These catfish were a bit skittish and wouldn't come near him, so he had to go to them. "C'mere. I'm on orders to bring you home with me. Dead or alive. Preferably dead. You look heavy." He slashed in a wide semi-circle, bursting through all four of the f

It swam in circles, slowly and methodically, as if it were doing something that required care. But it didn't--it was just swimming in circles. Stupid catfish. Swim faster. Morningstar drew back a sword art and after a few moments, blasted a hole through the fish's back. Nice hit. This seemed to rile up the rest of the catfish in the water. They flopped around with rage at the death of their fallen brother, which Morningstar took as them wanting to jump onto Willow's grill--she was into grilling these days, by the way. Morningstar wasn't allowed to touch the grill because he didn't ha

What a lovely day. No, not really. Morningstar hated swamps. He hadn't come to Floor 12 in... a while? Wulfrin might remember. He was there too, Star thought. Why was Morningstar there now? Catfish. Willow wanted to try her hand at cooking catfish, much to Star's dismay. Cooking at the Star house was very hit or miss; a coin flip, but instead of heads and tails it was yummy and terrifying. Still, he didn't argue. He ate her food without complaints (sometimes) and she didn't divorce him. If he wanted cafe treats and regular breakfasts all the time, he shouldn't have married a che

Paragon Level 50 - (1) Gleaming Scale, (1) Demonic Shard, x3 Paragon Tier Up Tickets, Custom Skill**

Approved

Approved

thread summary Morningstar receives: 2999 EXP | (1419/5) * 9 + 420 [field boss] * 1.01 17357 col | 386 [p15] + 16800 [loot] * 1.01 2 materials 1 mon 1x Watcher's Extract | (T4/Consumable/Single Use) | For the rest of the thread, consecutive attacks against the same target will raise the user’s base DMG by 1. This effect stacks up to three times and resets as soon as targets are switched, or an AoE attack is used.

Their weapons interlocked, and the scraping of iron on stone echoed through the tunnels. Rocks crumbled from the ceiling and walls, tumbling into the pool below. The water splashed and rippled. Morningstar weaved his blade past the Watcher's staff, slicing the boss' arm. In retaliation, it smacked him in the waist hard enough to crack something. Morningstar staggered backwards, nearly dropping into the pool himself. He raised his sword to strike once more but found his body to be stiff, unmovable. It's gaze was piercing, brighter than a glow stone in the dark of the cave. He concentrated

The audition was short. It wasn't his first time, but Stephen had been too young to remember much of his past auditions. When he was smaller--maybe three or four years old--he had done minor roles in film and television. They didn't make him memorize lines back then. Often times, scenes required kids to simply be there and exist. Maybe he was on screen for a few dozen seconds. Maybe a couple of minutes. Auditions for roles like that were quick and easy. He thought this one might be longer, but it was over after ten minutes and then he was on his way home. The assistant said something to M

For brief instances, the cave would light up upon the activation of Morningstar's sword arts. Then, it would fall back to darkness. Without his night vision, Morningstar wouldn't have been able to see much of the Watcher. The consistent attunement to light made it difficult to adjust fully to the dark. But the green filter over his eyes made the field boss perfectly visible. He could see it stone grey skin; its long, boney fingers; its filmy, bug wings. Its eyes were its most notable feature, though. Even drowning in the void, he could have seen those burning white eyes. They were pupilless, b

"Stand here, please," the assistant positioned him on top of a square of black tape in the center of the room. Fluorescent lights gave the room an ugly, yellow tint. They hurt his eyes, so he tried to focus on just one thing. He picked the camera. "Please say your name, your age, and a fun fact about yourself into the camera," the assistant smiled, taking a seat at a foldable white table. Clearly, and feigning confidence, he did so. "My name is Stephen Star, I'm seven years old, and I like to skip stones." Next to the assistant was the casting director. A man with glasses opera

Morningstar ducked below the Watcher's staff. He moved every which way, but the Watcher's eyes stayed pinned on him regardless. Using rocks as leverage, he leaped for high ground and dug his sword into the roof of the cave. Rock came loose and crumbled down on the ancient behemoth. It dazed him, but only for a moment. Its staff tore past Star's head, grazing his cheek and leaving behind a shallow red mark. Star moved right, dropping and driving Dying Sun into the field boss' side. He expected a groan, a shout, a screech--some indication that the monster felt pain--but nothing left it