Morningstar

Another Phoenix dead, another Hellstorm collected. "Yeah. I've got time for one more of these. I think we're still short a few Hellstorms anyway." He took a seat on a rough boulder and watched his energy store tick up and up. It was a slow process, waiting for recovery to kick in. He looked up at the sky, taking notice of the sun's position. He frowned. Their shopping list was still so large and they were running low on time. They were going to have to settle with whatever they had. He activated Tracking to speed up the boss' respawn timer. They didn't have all day, and frankly, Star

It took them little time to find the grotto that the NPC broker had directed them towards. Two guards stood out front, knights in iron armor. What exactly they were guarding, he couldn't tell. The context of the quest was vague, and its value undetermined. "Okay," he stood back, allowing Nymoria to take the lead. She was a strange one—so nervous in conversation but so capable of sprinting straight forward towards a pair of metal giants that intended on squishing her like a bug. She did as she said, and both knights stumbled over, stunned. Morningstar sprung forwards, circling around

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Couldn't get a suit? Morningstar didn't dare show them his closet. "Red and black should work," he ensured, mentally planning each piece in advance. "Admittedly, I've had enough mob hunting for a while. The grind takes its toll. Food sounds good, though," he said, swishing his hand a few times and changing into something more appropriate for company. Jeans and a t-shirt were all he could manage today. Still, they beat his loungewear. He snuck in a hushed reply to Freyd. "You make a guest list, I'll plan a party, and then we'll reconvene." "Want to go out or eat in? I'll cook, if

Quest Every two hundred years, for a brief period, the frigid landscape of the fourth floor melts into a nearly temperate climate. Residents of Snowfrost, lucky to witness it, celebrate the coming of the warm sun solstice with a grand festival. The event lasts no more than a day but draws in merchants, performers, and artists like nothing you could imagine. The lantern-lit streets are packed with game stalls and food carts, and at night, beautifully crafted floats and kites soar across the starry sky. Morningstar was pretty sure this was his third festival, and he was nowhere near ce

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Star dusted off the old journal and turned to the last page. He skimmed it, not really reading the words, and not really listening to the old man either. Suddenly, they were being pushed out, and he shut the book in surprise. "My whole life is a risk these days," He mumbled. Outside, he took another look at the journal. They'd been tasked with uncovering what was claimed to be a "universal truth" and given an anonymous library donation to do it. "I feel like I missed out on a prerequisite quest or ten," he said flipping through aimlessly. Returning to the end, he read a few phrases aloud.

His paralysis lasted mere seconds before the king shrugged it off and returned to a state of animosity. Star clicked his tongue. He should have expected immunity, but was too caught up in the fight to think about it. He'd slipped up. The Slime King thrashed at him, and came close to hitting him a number of times. He was positioned too close for comfort, having thought the creature would be stunned a while longer. He weaved around the mob and circled back behind his frontline, where he waited for his next opportunity to strike. It came far quicker than he had expected. His party took turns

Morningstar stared at Wulfrin, awestruck. Morningstar was aware that they planned on marrying, and he was aware that he was invited to the ceremony. He was not aware that he was a candidate for best man. They'd met each other less than a year prior, and Star felt he knew so little of the man. Even so, there wasn't a fiber in his body that would have rejected the request—not in a million years. "It would be an absolute honor to be your best man." When was the wedding? Was there time for a bachelor party? If he was best man, he expected nothing less than perfection from himself. A flaw

The Iron Guardian. Yep. That was what he was looking for too. "All I know is that it's in the area. Not really sure where, though," he replied, glancing about at the wandering passersby. None of them looked quite like quest givers. A few steps took him further from the teleport pad, and suddenly a notification appeared before him. "Found it," he announced, surprised. The pop-up prompted him to either accept or deny the quest, and seeing as it was the reason for him coming, he chose the former. It didn't take long for an NPC to find them. Dressed in black garbs, a hooded figure approa

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In a cozy corner of Raitoborou Bay, lived a swordsman who enjoyed song and serenity. The days he took off were spent by himself, and he quite liked it. He found comfort in the solemness of alone time, and he had trouble finding it during the week. He was always on—quest, after quest, after field boss, after quest. Some days, all he wanted was to sit around with nothing to do. Today, he did just that. Sat on the couch, with his feet perched on the coffee table, he strummed John Mayer on a scratched-up old guitar. He picked at it lazily, and the chords rang out imperfectly because of it. He