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Setsuna

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About Setsuna

  • Title
    Creature of the Mist

Guild Information

  • Guild Name
    Firm Anima

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Female
  • Location
    Starting City

Profile Fields

  • Skill Points
    21

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  1. PH 198876, T4/Perfect/Cloth Armor + [Demonic Scale] Dark Messenger's Garb T4 Demonic Cloth Armor | MIT 1 | RISK 2 | REC 1 A matt black pairing of hoodie and pants, slightly reminiscent of real world casual wear mixed with the garb worn by some of Aincrad's most notorious assassins. At home in the light or shadow, it belongs in both worlds where its wearer once belonged to neither. Taking a chance also makes it, and him, that much more dangerous. Name: Dark Messenger's Garb Profession: Tailor
  2. 3/9/22 Materials Sent (Dated | 9/22/21) Materials Sent: 10/6/20
  3. 3/4/22 Roll: ID# CD: LD: Quality Count Experience Ambition Mod 1 204926 CD: 4 +1 LD: 12 Uncommon - 8 (+5 Ambition) 2 204927 CD: 4 +1 LD: 17 Uncommon - 8 (+5 Ambition)
  4. 3/3/22 (Crafting Respite: 186446) Roll: ID# CD: LD: Quality Count Experience Ambition Mod 1 204518 CD: 2 +1 LD: 3 Salvage Failure - 7 (+5 Ambition) 2 204519 CD: 6 +1 LD: 20 Rare - 10
  5. A somber tone, as she'd remove herself from that which was born again. The howling winds continued on around them, where not a moment before had become silent. Through thoughts and consequence or a clash of hope, a single moment of security betwixt its gaze. Caught on the taste of what might come, on the thought of what might be. And yet she chose this, chose to stay her blade for but a brief moment. The truth was the girl could not stand what she had become, and it was plastered on the still fleeting callousness stuck to her brow as if it was adhered there. The slight popping of her heel
  6. A quiver in her eyes, as the color starts to fizzle and fade out. "Who will have mercy on me!?" What an odd question, as she kept with that same intensity. The words fighting to be heard in the maelstrom that screamed around them. The snow threatening to bury them both under its magnitude. "I am already drowning in it, Alkor, It's all I can feel. I won't pretend I am not a monster, I hate myself." A scattering of something glimmers and is sucked into that wave, and the shout felt pained. Like an exposed wound in agony, it felt taxed and bleeding. She was lying to herself, to protect herself.
  7. 2/19/22 Materials Sent: 8/23/21 Materials Sent: 9/22/21
  8. YEET Given to Koga Given to Bismuth Given to Xena
  9. The bitter chill continued to blaze on around them, threatening to circumvent the player's survival as it howled. "Death is a lesson to those that survive it. You are so sure that they will learn, that they will witness their mistake or taste their own fear. What makes you believe that they will not seek out the easy solution again?" Hand resting on the handle of her blade, weighing her options. She knew damn well Alkor could keep up with her enough to make obliterating that scum difficult, and her element of surprise was all but gone. "Those that survive them will learn from their mistak
  10. A harsh grinding as her blade is dragged against a rapid moving Alkor's, casting a shower of lights and sparks as they connect. Another slam as she vanishes and reappears, to Alkor's immediate right. Past those angry slivers of metal, a locked gaze betwixt the two. "You would preach to me of violence, after what I've seen their kind do?" The words came off harsh and cold like sandpaper. A vorpal tear and blades ring out, it would look like a storm to which Alkor was in the middle of, even still the man didn't seem bothered in the slightest. All that he'd reflect, was that same stalwart stare a
  11. A click as she redirects, apparating out of thin air and pressing her back into a frozen stone. The crunching of footfalls as bodies began to shuffle. Peering out as clumps of fog join with that blizzard, escaping the inch of steel of a rime cold blade. A sharp exhale, as she reaches into her clothes and removes a small vial. Her saya just beneath her wrist lights with a sword art being charged. With a thumb, she plucks the cork and casts out a tiny red light that quickly manifests into a loose shape. "Use that potion." Biting her teeth together so aggressively, it cut the lining of
  12. The storm thickened, as bitter cold tore through flesh to bone. Bodies become buried in a sea of white. A predator in that white had robbed them of courage, and they'd succumbed to it. Nefarious purpose had set the dial on that clock far past the strokes of daylight. A slender draw of a blade from the scabbard on her waist, color becoming mixed within that flurry. Nestled in that white playing the part of camouflage easily, a ghost by all definition. A body becoming translucent and like vapor, as legs began to carry her. A vow carrying her. Faint cries from the boy still missing his
  13. A violent spray and a blood-curdling scream. A boy no older than 20 clutches his right arm at the elbow, and a glowing stump just past that. A weapon clatters to the ground and is quickly lapped up by the sleet. "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!" Shouts an older man, adorned in thick leathers and hide to stave against the cold. Eyes dart as he squeezes the shoulder of his comrade, burning above his head a nice little amber crystal spinning. Watching carefully into the flurry, trying his damned to pick out their pursuer. It had struck without warning, and the result. A slowly climbing parasite in the fo
  14. "Then you prove me right." She spoke to her words prior, that there were two types of people. Those that could kill, and those that could not. It came down to perspectives, and a question of if someone was redeemable. Koga would have tried to change them, protect them. To have a change of heart. Sliding a lid to a box and watching it vanish into a pocket dimension, she slides her katana back to the space on her back. An intense stare as she peers back at him, as if still stuck in the night before. "We shall see. My name is Setsuna. You are one of the few who know it, consider yourself lucky. I
  15. Echoes in the distance, as the floor would slowly begin to welcome a morning. Shutters on door frames slide open to greet morning air. "It is a question of 'if' as is all things. If it is relevant, or if it will ever happen. I focus on facts, cold hard truths. I leave others to do the dreaming, I do not have the luxury. Marotaru can continue to dream for me, hope for me. But do not mourn me when your dreams fail, keep that heart to yourself. Place it somewhere else, I do not want it." Watching the people as they moved, drifting a bit with eyes that were heavy and yet would never close. "I do r
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