Elora

A calculated leap from above saw Elora's soles plant softly in the sand before the rest of her teetered backwards in an unceremonious flop. Groaning from the soreness of every strained muscle, she begrudgingly lifted herself up and dusted off her ass. Wherever the sword wants. "Definitely North.", Elora answered Astra's question. "And I agree, the trees would provide the most coverage." For us and for the monsters. 

She took the initiative in leading them, or at least conjured some spectacle into playing the part. With her spear drawn, she swept every shadow, sliced away every dangling branch like they were in motherfucking Jumanji. Lightning continued to crash around them but the players' resolve remained unwaivered. Steadfast in their objective, they pressed on. Through pouring rain and uncomfortably wet clothes, they would see the weapon returned to its rightful place or dye trying.

Maybe.

Hopefully not.

Because that would suck.
 

***

Thread Summary:

Edict receives: 1,298 EXP (Word Count [6493/51]) 400 col (1 page [400]) 1 Mon

Sable receives: 1,298 EXP (Word Count [6493/51]) 400 col (1 page [400]) 1 Mon

Astra receives: 2,597 EXP (Word Count [6493/52]) 400 col (1 page [400]) 1 Mon

Elora receives: 8,180 EXP (Word Count [6493/56] +5% Guild Rank [389]) 1,708 col (1 page [400] + 15% P5 Reward [1,227] +5% Guild Rank [81]) 1 Mon

Fall damage was null...buffered, okay -- maybe negligible at worst. Drowning on the other hand? Elora had already watched that one play out before. Hands anchored to the side of the vessel before her mind could even conceive of an escape plan. Someone was briefing them on how to dive with proper form. She couldn't care less. It didn't matter how she fell, but where. And as far as she was concerned, there were only two options.

Like a cat frantically trying to escape a bathtub, she climbed over the boat's ledge. Time seemed to stand still for a matter of seconds as their perspective shift from horizontal to vertical. As their not-so-even keel breached its tipping point, she leapt from its side. Colossal columns of water came to a standstill beside her as Elora's confidence was curtailed by a terrified scream.

A sturdy THUD broke her fall as Elora landed on something awful. Lungs thoroughly depleted of breath, she laid there, wheezing and gasping for air. Gradually, a swollen vignette of scarlet began to retreat from her vision. She hadn't taken damage...but holy shit -- that landing had hurt.

Rolling onto her side, she hacked a few more times for good measure. Ears finally popped, she could hear nothing but the torrential rumble of water. At least...I missed it...somehow... It was a weird thing to be grateful for, completely contradictory to any action flick she'd seen attempt the same stunt. Fingers eventually splayed out to steady herself, then lug the rest of her body over to the edge of a half-buried boulder.

"IS ANYONE OKAY?", she called out through a shroud of moonlit mist.

"Is that where were headed --?", Elora blurted out after Sable's suggestion. Don't tell me the raid has already started. And so soon after the last -- 

“I would really like to avoid the water if it’s possible. I can’t swim all that well in heavy armor.”, came Edict's nervous reservation.

"I don't know anyone's looking to take a plunge in the Styx -- But we don't exactly have a choice here. The sword knows where it wants to go or something and I've got friends who need me on the front lines!" With a well-placed kick, Elora pushed them off from the shoreline and leapt to join the vessel. Blessedly, the concerning creek that followed was swiftly disguised by the rush of flowing water. Just like a trusty car., she marveled as the cognitive check engine light lost its focus.

Grabbing an oar, she got to work with steering. Well, what little of it she could manage, anyway. The river's edges swelled and flooded as spiraling eddies broke off and jutted in every direction. Working together, they did their best to keep the course. Sharp rocks snagged the floating debris of broken tree limbs and all manner of refuse swept away by the current. 

"Hey, uh, everyone.", a worried voice started, "Can you tell if we're still heading the right way?" 

"Astra I swear to god --", Elora replied, "Please don't tell me there's a waterfall ahead --"

"Elora.", she introduced herself bluntly. Meanwhile, her mind ran in frantic circles. She had been looking to them for aid, and suddenly she was supposed to be one in charge? What the hell are you doing on the HIGHEST LEVEL?!, she nearly blurted out. Under different circumstances, she would have hounded the trio for coming here. 

But there was no time to waste. Not for her sake and especially not for their's. 

Leaving the blue one to handle the sword, Elora would look for a way to make the others useful. "You know where to go -- so we just need to get there.", she thought aloud as eyes scanned their surroundings. Conveniently, there sat what seemed to be dingy nearby. Not so conveniently, it looked like a piece of shit. "I'd say anywhere would be safer than here, but sailing out into the open ocean would hardly be wise.", Elora cautioned as she made her way over to the beached boat. Slick hands did their best to undo a knot of rope before realizing the post it was tethered to had been dislodged from the earth. A disgruntled huff saw it tossed into the vessel.

"There's a chance this'll get us as far as we need, and not a meter further."

Elora's chewing slowed for only a moment as eyes grew wide at the revelation. You don't have to eat here? Had she ever really fasted enough to see? Suddenly sheepish at a perceived lack of discipline, her hand replaced its fork with the handle of a mug. I guess there were days -- when I was too scared to leave the inn...and also a little severely depressed. Even still, her appetite had rarely seemed to falter. If anything, traveling across Aincrad to sample every kind of taste and texture it had to offer -- it was one of the greatest pleasures of living here. If there was no breakfast, lunch, or dinner to look forward to...

I guess I could eat grass., she mournfully concluded.

Banishing the imagery of a condemned bovine existence, her attention rebounded to the conversation at hand.

"When I was in prison...there were only rations.", Mari continued, "I can't walk into towns to buy food. It's hard for me to find people willing to trade with..." 

Eyes followed her gesture upwards toward the glaring red flag. 

"Even friends...who tried to get me to eat better ended up hitting a wall. I was punishing myself. I kept telling myself I didn't deserve it. But. I don't want to feel that way anymore. I want to enjoy things again."

Pangs of remorse twisted in Elora's stomach as she recognized the behavior. Adopting a different form, it was never administered through avoiding her meals. Instead, she had retreated from the world to manufacture her own loneliness. It started by stowing away at the Hummingbird Inn, then in masking her deepest insecurities. Surrounded by strangers, she could be a character of her own making - confident, witty, and smart. Or at least, that was what she'd thought. It wasn't until those very strangers would see through her persona, and accept her despite her flaws, that she'd allow herself the comfort of closer connection. If there was anything that self-inflicted isolation had taught her, it was that there was no greater loneliness than lying to oneself.

She knew she was different now.
And the pain was still fresh.

"I don't know what you deserve", she finally said as her cup came to rest on the table, "But I don't think we can get better unless that it's something..." 

Thunder barreled overhead as streams of water carved smooth gullies through the compacted mud below. How long had she been out here? A few hours? A few days? It felt like wave after wave of phantom knights had spawned in to overwhelm them, and Elora was losing track of time. At first, she was cutting them down with friends. In the streets of shuttered towns, then the canyons that stretched beyond them. It hadn't been enough. More enemies crept to each corner of the floor. Freyd and Katoka had gone to help. 

And Elora...

Heavy footfall sent frigid water sloshing up her legs. Drenched and disheartened, she gave nothing more than a haggard sigh. I have no idea where they could be...and this rain is only getting worse., she reasoned with herself, It'd be better to find some shelter -- continue looking once it lets up.

Slender evergreens offered little respite from the torrential downpour. Whishing and whirring all around her, their sparse boughs looked like the outstretched arms of giants pleading for the storm's relent. A lightning crash would be their only answer. Wood splintered in harsh creaks as trunks broke in a domino of destructive collisions, their final impacts cut short by a deafening BOOM.

With nowhere to go, Elora wove between the standing pines. If the forest couldn't protect her, maybe somewhere else would.

Emerging from the trees, she came to stand along a rocky riverbank. No, this isn't right --, she huffed as eyes surveyed the peninsula, The lighthouse isn't here -- Ocean waves surged and slammed against a shoreline of basalt, but a ramshackled village was nowhere to be seen.

"Dammit.", she cursed, "I have no fucking idea where I am -- nowhere to hide --"

A faint glimmer crested a nearby hill.

Then....slowly....the spinning green of three player icons.

"HEYYYY!!", Elora shouted through cupped hands, "OVER HERE!" Eager soles guided her descent down the slippery slope. She had no idea who these people were, but there was a chance they'd know where to go.

***

Elora | HP: 760/760 | EN: 110/110 | DMG: 24 | MIT:78 | ACC:8 | AA | EVA:3 | BH:38 | REC: 4 | FLN: 8 | BLI: 32/-20 | STC: 40 | LD:2

  ♫  The Comforts of Home  ♫  

Unexpected warmth returned to her hand as the traces of Mari's had finally left it. Rugged at first, the sensation of a finger coursing across her's gradually chiseled away at Elora's emotional barricade. Surely, her signals had been obvious enough -- or perhaps...that was why Freyd was offering her this silent comfort.

Eyes slowly glanced sideways to see that his were turned downwards, methodically scraping some straggling berries from the sides of his bowl. It was clear that he was still upset. And yet...

"Gods…you two really love each other huh? It's so obvious…”, remarked Mari.

Freyd could feel her grasp swiftly curl closed beneath his, like a flustered snail ducking its head back into its shell. It was only after Mari began to busy herself with their kitchen that fingers coyly branched out and playfully brambled among the spaces between his.

“Hollondaise!”, the ginger player proudly announced before adopting a wistful tone, "I mean…its one of my favourite sauces......I don’t think I’ve had it for nigh on five years at this point..."

Elora shared a nostalgic comfort for recreating childhood dishes. Or at the very least, ones that were native to her homeland of Ireland. In Aincrad, it was often difficult to cobble together the ingredients necessary to cook non-Japanese meals, let alone purchase an adequate substitute. Sure, she had been introduced to countless new cuisines, many of which touted of achieving that coveted "Ooh mommy" flavor. Still, nothing compared to the simple succor of something familiar. Reveling in the scents and tastes of returning home. 

Holland...Daze? Hollan-naise?, she soon found herself questioning, Is that like...mayonnaise..from Holland...?

“I always thought of it as a sort of fancy ‘Dijon’ mayo.”, Freyd...somewhat...confirmed her assumption.

Following his lead, Elora secured another sausage to dunk it, unceremoniously, into a small helping that he had portioned for himself. It tasted...eggy. That was to be expected. But also -- "It's surprisingly bright.", she commented as tangy notes melded with the savory meat, "Somehow a little sweet, in a way. It's kind of like if movie theatre popcorn was emulsified into a gravy." Before she knew it, her fork was reaching out to fondue any combination of foods it could find. Ham, bacon, bread, and cheese -- most importantly of all, her beloved potatoes.

“Honestly...I feel…a little spoiled. I don’t really eat hot food often.”

"Why not?", Elora asked, recalling the lackluster accommodations of her former home, "Don't have a kitchen?" 

A hard lump formed in Elora's throat as heat finally began to bleed from her forehead and cheeks. After securing a sausage, something smothered in sauce, and a variety of fruit through the hasty stabs of a fork, she took her seat at a nearby stool. At least happenstantial convenience proved that one still remained perched, stationed equidistant between her partner and their guest.

“If our roles were reversed…I’d probably have slapped him.”, Mari attempted to reassure her.

Instead, shame sunk even deeper into Elora as she bit her lower lip. You've fucked it up again., an inner voice admonished the outburst, First it was Elora. Now it's Freyd. You tried to restrain yourself -- it wasn't enough.

Her posture deflated. Hunched over what should have been a breakfast to outshine all others, she felt so extinguished. Awkward flicks of the wrist struggled to un-stab each shish-kabobed hors d'oeuvre from the end of her utensil.

“Hey.”, came Mari's voice as she approached, “Did you…need help?” 

Where do I even start? With breakfast? With mending my relationship? With dislodging these stupid fucking sausages from the end of my fork?

Admittedly, those were the only three things she could come with at this moment.

"No.", Elora wearily rejected, as fingers fidgeted beneath the woman's touch. She gave a soft, uncertain sigh, followed with a faint, "Thank you..." before pulling them briskly away. It was too soon for her to allow that kindness in. Her emotions were far too raw, her spirit wounded and withdrawn. As pathetic as it was, she didn't feel like she deserved anything right now. Not Freyd, not their home, or any of the delicious food he'd provided for them.

“Please…”, Freyd seemed to plead with them both, “Can we just start by sharing a meal?” 

As if finally resigning to that state of indifference, Elora took one heaping bite from the vertical smorgasbord grasped in her hand.

Rubbery, gritty. Slimy? Smokey, starchy, and sweet, all at the same time.

Well.

If nothing else, her palette would start this meal excited.

Elora watched the chaotic scene play out before her with a stupefied expression. The squelching smack of a soggy sandal met with a cursing shout as her partner entered a desperate grapple with the other woman's ankle. What she'd first assumed a floundered execution quickly began to resemble a wrestling match between two feuding siblings. 

Freyd's hands released their grip, towing a stool to rest beside their kitchen island. “Mari, I’m Mari, meet stool. Sit. Get to know each other, and we’ll have ourselves a perfectly reasonable, decent meal.”, he barked, his anger palpable. Daggers shot in her direction, chiding her in equal measure, “Mari, Elora.  Elora, Mari.  You can both be pissed off at me now and bond over how much of a jerk I usually am.”

A column of fire climbed through Elora's chest as her face turned a deep red.

“Look.  I know this is all far from ideal, but Mari is a friend.  And, right now, she could use is a bit of comfort and to let herself accept being treated as a normal, decent human being.  I know it's awkward, but that doesn't really seem like too much to ask, or to provide, does it?”

"Don't fucking talk ti me like I'm seem petulant child!", Elora erupted, her hands slamming to anchor on the counter below, "Yew wanna have her here — fien! I don’t care! Bit showing up here in the mid'dle of the night, blasted off yir ass, rambling on about all this shit I can barely even understand — passing out on the fucking floor before I can even get a single god'demn word in. What kind iv an introduction is that?!”

Further rebukes curtailed from Elora's flinching lips as the question echoed its own merit. Limbs shook ferociously as her chest heaved, breath hissing with a rage unlike any he had witnessed before. Blurred shapes smeared the corner of her vision as tears welled without her awareness.

Several moments passed before her eyesight finally broke from his — a brief glimpse to fall on a shaken Mari. Scorching frustration suddenly doused by a sense of shame and regret. Not for what she had said to Freyd, but by how she had treated Mari. Consciousness thrust into a sudden panic -- the stinging remembrance of a memory too painful to revisit -- her instincts screaming at her to leave.

Elora shook beneath the weight of it. Forced, measured breaths. Controlled. She could control. 

In one crude motion, she released a white-knuckled grip from the corner of their counter, hand shooting out to loudly clang against the tray whose contents she’d shakily grabbed.

Tea. Mint tea. And it was sloshing everywhere.

A spinning cinnabar cursor captivated Elora's attention as soon as she turned to regard Mari. If only for a moment, her eyes became transfixed by its scarce appearance. Then, the gravity of what it signified. 

I wonder who she killed., came an immediate curiosity. It was strange, novel even, for the thought to carry any weight. Every day, players eagerly slaughtered monsters and pre-programmed characters. Killing, like most of their lives in Aincrad, had become routine. Just another day's work.

“Uhm….”, she barely heard above the cognitive noise, “Hi? E-Elora Right? Mari. I’m Mari.”

So Freyd had already mentioned her. Should she be surprised?

Eyes peeled away from the suspended crystal, drifting down to scrutinize the woman below. Orange hair., she noted for its uniqueness. Straight sections of thick, unruly locks framed a pale and freckled face. Chiseled, yet somehow soft, her tired features suggested a depth beyond those of a caricatured serial killer. 

Elora's sights settled to a definite focus on a set of gorgeous cerulean eyes.

Silent seconds passed as blue bore on blue.

A prolonged and unsettling exchange.

"Geidmirning.", she managed to greet through tensed jaw, a subdued Irish accent lilting her words. Motion in the form of a brief wobble coaxed her to glance further down. Hunched in an awkward pose, Mari set her opposite foot and slowly reached to reclaim a renegade shoe.

Why was -- had she been carrying her shoes...?, wondered Elora. A sweeping glance confirmed the other to have tumbled quite a bit further away, resting just before a now-stirring Freyd.

Sights returned to Mari to find her looking....apologetic.....ashamed..? Brows furrowed as Elora unexpectedly found herself in the other woman's shoes. Memories of nights spent out far too late, downing far too many pints of alcohol, staggering back into her parents' house, and praying not to get caught. For all the fun that came with adolescent's reckless flings of escapism, there was always the gamble of a harsh and sobering consequence. To think she feared a similar retribution in their home...it somehow didn't sit right with her. 

Suddenly uncertain of her own judgements, Elora found herself shifting balance between her legs; a chaotic dance between the stubbornness to intimidate and an instinct to diffuse the thwarted scheme.

"We don't have a genkan.", she bluntly stated, aptly recalling one of the many architectural terms that Freyd had espoused to her during their home's construction. "You can keep your shoes on inside..."

With a held stare, Elora forced a crudely congenial smirk, offering the feign of a cultural misunderstanding.

A comforting patchwork quilt gently swaddled around her beloved as Elora resisted the teensy-weensy urge to straggle him into an eternal slumber. Surely, a simple knot and a concerted twist of the wrists would see the job done. There was plenty of leverage and more than enough strength to -- she dismissed the intrusive thought with a sharp drawing in of her breath.

What in the actual hell was he thinking? Bringing a player-killer into our house?! How are we going to -- how can he think that that's safe?" Elora was acutely familiar with the disorienting nature of a few stiff drinks. Even still, they couldn't have excused such a severe and utter lack of judgement, and by the likes of Freyd, of all people! Scenes of a maniacal ringmaster flashed across her memory as she stalked from their kitchen and out into the hallway. Sparing only a moment to glance in the direction of their guest room, she silently hastened to the second floor.

Unexpected gratitude came in the form of a fastened deadbolt as she spun to rest against their bedroom door. Mari, the name echoed in Elora's mind, Wasn't that...the player involved with Chaser? She remembered the day Freyd had called that guild meeting, the evidence he had shared - a slew of messages exchanged between the three of them. An anxious pace carried her to the far wall as she struggled to recall their contents. There was an invitation to talk, what has truly served as bait to an ambush. It was something to do with Mari...the way he'd hurt her? No -- Chaser had accused Freyd of hurting her. So she...sent Chaser off to challenge Freyd...?

Flopping onto the mattress, she rolled onto her side. Perhaps she was misremembering details. Had Freyd explained his interaction with Mari? There had to be a reason he had hurt her. Maybe he was defending himself. Maybe she had tried to hurt him. He could have...gotten too close...

Suddenly awash in a current of worry, she seized the empty pillow beside her and clung to it tightly. As the last halos of twilight were lost to darkness, a racing conscious skewed ever-slowly into the rhythms of a blurry lullaby.

--- 

Heavy eyelids found difficulty in greeting the morning as searing columns of light beamed directly into her retinas. A beleaguered yank of the cotton sheets caused the translucent fabric to balloon around her. Cold air billowed across her skin as she curled into a shivering ball. Disgruntled and exhausted, she muttered beneath her breath, "weirb dream..." 

Remembrance dawned on her as she roused from her sleep. Wait -- did that really -- is he still --? Scrambling to leave bed in a decent fashion, Elora felt like a firefighter racing to douse a potential flame. Or in this case, prevent a fatal stabbing? Buttons haphazardly fastened; she threw on a black shirt with a lopsided overhang. Feet quickly, quietly, shuffled their way down a wooden staircase with a carpeted runner.

Another second spared to glance down their hallway.

Making her way into the kitchen, she nearly stumbled over the crumpled form of a sprawled out drunkard. Had he migrated in his sleep? In either case, guttural snores signified that he was still breathing -- if only barely.

***

Elora | HP: 760/760 | EN: 110/110 | DMG: 24 | MIT:78 | ACC:8 | AA | EVA:3 | BH:38 | REC: 4 | FLN: 8 | BLI: 32/-20 | STC: 40 | LD:2

Uneasy eyes shot glances from one player to another as they attacked with unexpected coordination. By the time she'd struck the knight and stepped back to reclaim her distance, a different player had rushed in to assume her place. As usual, Freyd had goaded their enemy into a false sense of superiority before flipping the switch to render it stupefied. Meanwhile, a stylish man in a red duster seemed to dance around the drunken stammers and swashbuckling staggers of a comparatively plain-looking soldier. Katoka spared only a moment to extinguish her lingering fears before lunging in to finish the job.

A shiver ran up Elora's spine as she recoiled, flicking her hands outwards to dispel the harsh sound of glass scraping across metal. Satisfying electrical crackles applauded the specter's death as it disappeared into the surrounding abyss.

The once-lamentous valley suddenly came to a bittersweet stillness as raindrops smattered against the tired players. Exhaling in synchronous relief, they spared a few seconds of silence to appreciate the fleeting peace it would offer. 

"Well, I suppose that's another one down.", Kat eventually concluded, "Anyone need an escort back to the gate?"

"I'll take you up on that", agreed the woman who had assisted them in their assault.

With an uncertain sigh, Elora walked over to check on Freyd. "I'm not sure if I'll be staying or going, but in either case...", she spoke to them all, "I think we could all use a moment's rest."

Once again lobbed into a mixed media janga tower of cuteness, the furry, slimy, and rocky familiars slowly got back onto their paws, tentacles, and pebbles - respectively. A series of disgruntled noises morphed into pleased acknowledgements of the enemy's defeat. Pale blue fog oozed from beneath the former chimney's bricks as they swore to have heard the faintest, "NOOOOoOoOoooo..." caress their digital eardrums, auditory canals, whatever --

All that mattered was that the stupid knight was squished and that they were still perfectly voluptuous. Magically, the storm clouds offered their congratulatory reprieve from the pelting rain as sword on sword slapping noises dwindled on the not-so-distant horizon. That probably meant that the desperate battle had ended. Or that everyone was dead. Hopefully not the later.

Stoney joints popped back into place as Borris reformed his structural integrity. Rolling itty bitty fists into Reliq's face, he encouraged the mimic's wobbly eyeballs to return to roost in their sockets. Hanami's head quickly perked up as ears began to decipher the sounds of an encroaching commotion. Spurred by a spontaneous excitement, the recently-exhausted familiars swiftly nyoomed, schlorped, and rolled their way over to reunite with the trio of players that they had come to trust.

Surging commotion drew her closer to the battle as a group of dazed players hobbled past. The oppressive darkness, dispelled by the intermittent flash of steel on steel, smothered their sights as soon as action had extinguished. Like air splitting from the lighting strikes overhead, thunderbursts and players alike rushed to fill the vacancy in a crumbling defense.

Elora's mind flooded with a million fears as rain began to fall. Exhaling in ragged breaths, a tightened chest remembered the rising waters, the sensation of air escaping her lungs for a final time. Instinct feuded with her aspiration to help, causing her knees to buckle, her spear trembling within a white-knuckled grasp. 

A sudden hand spiderwebbed cold shivers from her right shoulder as a familiar voice offered reassurance, "You've got this. I'm not going anywhere this time." Turning to meet Katoka, Elora couldn't help but marvel at the woman's tenacity, how much she had grown from an anxious foot-soldier into a legendary samurai. She was sure, not even the old stories had detailed the journey of one as skilled or as remarkable as her. Squeezing firmer, she gave Elora a nod before ushering them both to enter the fray.

Muddy ground could not offer her the steadiness to dispel every worry, but then again, it didn't need to. Surrounded by the resolve of strangers and loved-ones alike, she knew they could face this threat together, or find some perverse comfort in the fate of a shared ending.

Releasing her left hand from the slippery hilt, Elora brandished her weapon and followed Kat's every footstep. Soon they would both be face-to-face with a monster.

***

Dark droplets began to stain the ground as an encroaching thunder rumbled overhead. Stringy and disparaging, the forbidden calamari appeared to have fallen victim to its haphazardly-executed assalt. Sporadic drizzle swiftly swelled to steady shower at the soon-to-be expense of the makeshift sea-bear circle. Between the craggy gaps of fractured cobblestones, water channeled and dissolved tiny ravines through the spilled crystals, weakening their protective power.

Hanami had already identified the looming threat, and moved to strike before opportunity evaded them. Climbing atop a nearby building, she heaved and slammed against a teetering chimney. A series of concerned chirps communicated her need for additional help. Borris was certain he could make the ascent, but the sniveling mass of purple spaghetti...

Attention turned to the wooden barrel he'd pried apart. Still dry and sheltered from a convenient overhang, the pile would serve as a useful diversion to buy them more time. Fashioning a nail into a fantasy matchstick, Borris struck the sharpened steal against his arm. A tiny slew of sparks shot outwards, searing the wood with scattered embers that whooshed into a growing flame.

As the homunculus crawled toward the sudden disturbance, Borris rushed over to assist the struggling mimic. While Borris was far too small and the other familiar far too weak to easily reach the rooftops, there was a chance that their combined efforts could make the journey easier.

Once again disassembling, each of his stones scouted to tuck beneath a separate withered tentacle. A series of tugs guided his comrade to reach for magnetic fixtures above. With any luck, they'd be able to scale the slick exterior and assist Hanami in thwarting the knight.

***

Support action: Borris lights a bonfire in the middle of the street too make the knight go "ooh shiny" and get distracted.

Creepy, dank, and unnervingly wet. As if Aincrad didn't have enough of that. Sure, the swamp floor had its share of rank bogs, but at least it had some sunlight now and again. On the other hand, Floor 13 had been cloudy, but there were still some cool craggy landscapes and crumbling cityscapes to explore. This place was just...depressing. 'Nightmarish' may have been more apt a description. 

Elora had made no haste to come to this place. Not after Freyd's harrowing encounter with death. She hadn't been there when he had needed her most, and to imagine, rushing onto a level without safezones soon after? There'd be no higher risk to souring their cherished reunion. While she didn't pride herself in being tactical, Elora understood the advantage of waiting. The trouble was that her ambitious partner was, charmingly, the complete and utter opposite.

Briskly summoning her holographic mini-map, the elven-eared woman dashed her way to a nearby waypoint. At least, it hadn't seemed all that far-off until she had come to a sudden halt above a desolate ravine. Desperate screams echoed sharply from below as Elora's hairs bristled to stand on end. Anxiously pacing the chasm's edge, she hesitated to plummet into the soupy darkness below. Surely, there had to be a safer way down, or some method to assess what the hell was actually going on in its obscured depths.

Another bout of terror reverberated below, prompting Elora to action. Repelling off the steep ledge, she carved her spear into the shale walls. Sparks tore from the serrated blade as she braced her fall into the inky pit. All around her, the husks of eldritch corpses illuminated with stark and eerie shadows. Broken spiral ribcages. The hollowed out sockets of cyclopses and cerberuses alike. 

After what felt like only a second, her leather boots thumped against solid ground. In the interest of concealing her position from an unseen enemy, she tucked close to the nearest wall and continued her advancement toward the solitary cursor.

***

Elora accepts & consumes: Smokin' Hot Honey Bun Tray | ACC 2 | EVA 2 | Feast (5/6) + ACC filled, Elixir of Wrath (Potion) | Tierless Perfect | Damage 3 | 196575c

Elora | HP: 760/760 | EN: 110/110 | DMG: 24 | MIT:78 | ACC:8 | AA | EVA:3 | BH:38 | REC: 4 | FLN: 8 | BLI: 32/-20 | STC: 40 | LD:2

Jumbled pebbles reunited atop a furry waterbed as magnetic attraction fused each segment into place. Feisty and prepared to exact his vengeance, the tiny terrestrial golem catapulted from his flubbery cushion to survey the surrounding area. A sharp chirp goaded his attention over to a narrow stretch of path. Littered with toppled bricks and rickety barrels, it would serve as an excellent trap or barricade for their newly-forged common enemy.

Borris wasted no time, his rocks reconfiguring to flatten and roll out like a flinstonian transformer. The improvised chain swerved and snaked its way up the hill until it eventually reached Hanami. Yes, he had recognized her now, her appearance distinct and unmistakable from the familiar who aided Katoka. Gestures quickly indicated her intention to weaponize the barrels, though he wasn't entirely certain as to how. 

A series of pitiful sploots announced that their dilapidated comrade wished to aid in this unorthodox operation. Perhaps together, they could find a way to stop or hinder the ghost from spreading further. 

Attention turned to a pile of disheveled kegs, their planks too rotted or contorted to plomp a domp absolutely anywhere. A polar hand firmly latched itself to one of rusted nails as the other stones searched for additional leverage. Finding a sturdy metal ring, Borris's opposite end contracted to pry the pin free from its board. Working his way up the ream, he continued to pluck what could later be fashioned into a crooked spike strip or tetanus ammunition.

Piece by piece, the scattered perspectives of each wayward stone began to merge into one. Embarking on a treacherous mission rescue to liberate their Leg, Arm and Shoulder trudged ever-forward across Reliq's undulating skin. What seemed like rolling across a firm tarpit must have felt a full body message to the rambunctious polypus that wriggled beneath. Their combined effort, however heroic, was quickly overshadowed by a the threat of an unexpected adversary. Not so far away, the frenzied skirmish carried on. Amidst the commotion, Head was no longer sure who they were fighting, if they were winning, or if retreat had become critically necessary.

Shouts rang overhead as panicked simulacrums deviated from their usual programing. Like a sloppy rendition of the River Styx, the jumbled appearances of various NPCs began to stream across the ground. It was as if the world around them had tugged on a loose thread, unraveling lines of code until their original outcomes resembled nothing but the makings of a phantom chimera. Gnarled and mutated, its smoggy skin bubbled forth and bursted with the curdled faces of friends and familiars alike.

The raging battlefield, now reduced to a morgue, became the hunting grounds of a creature that knew no satiation. Palpable wrongness oozed from the accursed amalgamation as it hungrily towed itself toward another feast.

Exposed and isolated, Borris's headstone skittered in a frantic attempt to flee from the encroaching mob. As he maneuvered around scattered debris, a sudden crack had sent a series of loose boards soaring through the air. One by one, they smacked into the knight, seeming to stun it, if only temporarily. 

Arm became schlorptioned stuck, lodged firmly into the gooey rind of the twisting invertebrate as it sputtered forward. Like a chopper locked in a high-speed chase with a DUI basket case, the baby mimic launched and pursued the pebble that birled above. Leg did not have a mouth, therefore, he could not scream. Instead, the igneous reeled in the nauseating sensation of intermittent weightlessness. Rocks weren't meant to exist in the air. Not now. Not ever. 

Shoulder didn't envy his limbs' subjugation. From nearby, the determined stone rolled its way over treacherous molehills, skipped across vast puddles of stagnant street water. A distorted shadow cast from above appeared like the body of a skyward centipede as it wriggled around to follow his path. Through no small effort, he'd located the gremlin responsible for the perilous joyride. Closing the gap was only a matter of waiting for it to become enamored by another reclaimed treasure. Stone magnetized to stone in one decisive motion, administering a stern pinch to the critter's rear. At least, whatever part of it was currently unoccupied by fangs and eyes. 

Clamoring and chaos all around, an abrupt contrast to the serenity of their secluded forest home. Valkyrie cries from above ushered in the calculated swings of an emerald spear. Cool and ornate, its serrated edges cut crude gauges through the bodies of the swarming meat-stuff. Screams called the blade to retreat from its holster as its wielder spun to regard another group. For only a moment, she appeared to hesitate. Frantic steps staggered backwards, then carried her forward once again.

"SOD OFF!!", cried Elora. 

Suddenly, her fingers had curled around his body. In a single motion of brute force, his magnetic bindings had severed, his disparate stones soaring through the air in a bombardment of biblical proportion. It wasn't long before his head reverberated with a deafening metal "TWANGNGNG".

Soon, an impact would find his shoulders, then his arms, and finally, his legs.

Like a pouch of dilapidated marbles, they poured across the ground. Scattered in every direction, each explored the subtle characteristics of an unfamiliar terrain. Shoulder was pleasantly surprised by the soft landing that followed a series of ricochets against wooden supports. Arm was concerned by how quickly a collection of goo had halted its roll. And Leg...

Where was Leg?

Head did its best to keep an earth to the ground, fashioning the overwhelming onslaught of armored clangs and metal scrapings into a sort of sensory landmark. Luckily, Arm was not too far off. Eager to reassemble, the lone rock tilted toward the leftward commotion, then began to...

Strange...it felt as if he was being pulled toward something. But the grooves of his gravel weren't stuck in the slimy substance, just simply plopped atop it.

He supposed that Shoulder might have more information. Reluctant to leave its oversized heating pad, the other rock thudded across a stretch of rickety floorboards. This place was quiet, insulated from the dangers posed to the other pieces. Exactly the sort of clue that could help him regain his bearings.

The little pebble embarked on its survey, traversing the woodgrains in search of a path. If players had walked here, there would be a pattern, a steady slope that gradually descended toward an eventual exit.

The gentle cadence of a wrist stirring an aromatic tea below roused the slew of little rocks from their programed bout of drowsiness. Crisp steam billowed upwards, condensing along the rounded pebbles as peppermint fragrance welcomed the beginning of another day. They hadn't always started this way. Sometimes, Borris would find himself in hot pursuit of a vagabond bust bunny, rumbling across the rickety floorboards with the determination of an underdog racer. Other times, he would awaken within the translucent tunnels of a gathered bedspread, ever-shifting as its narrow passageways opened and closed around the unpredictable dance of stirring limbs. But today....ahhhh, today was peaceful.

Except --

A sudden jerk yoinked him away from his routinely sauna as comforting dewdrops flung from his porous surface. There was a wave of panic, followed by the usual confirmation of a high-pitched whine. Heat rapidly encased him as emotion thrummed through a morse code of heartbeats. Elora was shocked -- afraid. No, angry..........excited...?

Chair legs creaked and squealed like chalk on pavement as his player abandoned her seat in search of...something...perhaps, someone.

In the blink of an earth, he was transported to a cosmos of colors. Musty scents and elaborate patterns smudged in space as the two of them embarked on a desperate journey. Their only objective? To heed the call of another invigorating quest.

***

Elora | HP: 760/760 | EN: 110/110 | DMG: 21 | MIT:78 | ACC:5 | AA | EVA:1 | BH:38 | REC: 4 | FLN: 8 | BLI: 32/-20 | STC: 40 | LD:2

A cocktail of uproarious reactions swirled within her as she struggled to suppress her dislike of the tiny devil. What right does it have to invade our home? Ruin our reunion? Destroy what we've built --?, came an onslaught of angry thoughts. Staggered huffs escaped flared nostrils, teeth sinking into the trembling edges of her lower lip. You're fine -- neither of us are hurt, it's in a bottle. Freyd has it under control., she reinforced his assurances. Regardless of whether or not they actually instilled any comfort, Freyd deserved her patience. At the very least, whatever traces of it she could muster.

Lingering scowl followed his stare as both inspected the creature with opposite conviction. Where fear and disgust arose in her esophagus like the unwelcome return of an earlier meal, Freyd's eyes seemed to brim with an unbridled sense of...wonderment. Instinctually, the harshness of her gaze began to soften, her fists finally loosening as they relinquished their strangle-hold around her staff. Dismissing the spear, Elora inched closer.

"Do you have...any clue...?", she reluctantly muttered. Resting her chin over top his shoulder, she glanced down at the captured homunculus. Like an oversized fish trapped in a too-small tank, it circled the glass, gelatinous appendages twisting in an indistinguishable mass as jagged teeth attempted to devour its slippery prison.

Palpable worry gave voice to a quiet groan as Elora remained apprehensive to its eventual release. 

If there was ever a time to be thankful for a pain-suppression system, it was beneath the torrent of a thousand different plates and blades. A waterfall of assorted weights barreled onto them both until she was certain that neither was capable of resurfacing for air. Despite her overdramatic resignation, Elora swore she could hear -- feel the motion of something rummaging through the cataclysmic clutter. A sudden squeeze around her calf startled her as she attempted to wriggle her weapon free from its gooey prison. In the aftermath of it all, whatever thing had possessed her clothes was now schlorping across her chest and arm.

Hands failed to tread the sea of discombobulated refuse amidst its oppressive pressure, her voice squealing and making vague threats toward the tentacles that tickled her skin. "W-when I get out of this -- I'm turning you into a calamari hors d'oeuvre!", she swore with vengeance.

Successive grasps urged her to reconsider her original assessment. The gentle caresses, now constricting her thighs, then her waist, were not the product of another spirit gone rogue, but the touches of her lover, scaling her body like some sort of prehistorically-oversized jungle vine.

How romantic.

"You're okay,", came Freyd's belated reassurance as he attempted to salvage her from the pile of debris.

An obstructive cloak swept from her face gave way to a considerable inhale as Elora feigned an otherwise-inevitable suffocation. "Freyd!", she called out with coquettish spectacle, "You saved me!"

Precious moments flitted away before Elora registered his attention on a much smaller, much more dilapidated item perched in his palm. Turning to regard her with one bulging, mischievous eye, she immediately reciprocated its sight with the tip of her serrated blade.

"Wait... Wait.  WAIT!", cried Freyd as he lunged forward to shield the inky homunculus, "It's just a baby!"

"A BABY WHAT -- ?!", she yelped, "A BABY MIMIC -- That could be anything, Freyd! LITERALLY anything!!" Withdrawing her weapon, she did her best to explain to him, "How do we know that's really what it looks like?? What if it's not the only one --" The rosy color of her face went pale at the thought. "What if it goes back into the walls -- we don't know where it will go next --!"

Elora yelped in equal surprise and terror as the suit of armor suddenly hoisted her from the ground. With arms pinned to her side, she resorted to kicking her heels back and into the mail's scalloped plating. The fruitless effort did little more than create a cacophony of clangs and scrapes. "You mangey, cunt, I will END YOU!", she threatened with a fuming hiss. Taunting and downright infuriating cackles were its only response.

Normally, biting would have proven a viable next resort. Unfortunately, the thought of sinking her teeth into a steel vambrace filled her with a comparably, far greater sense of dread. "F-FREYD, DO SOMETHING!!", she commanded as her partner appeared to come to his senses.

"Let go, you little menace!  Or, so help me, I will peel you open with a spoon!", he threatened in equal measure.

Well thanks -- I could have said that!, she scowled as Essential Verdigris coalesced into her hand. "Let's see how much you like the taste of steel!", she huffed, prying the blade of her weapon between the connection of kneecap and sinew. In an instant, the insidious laughter was transmitted into squeals of agony. Elora would have almost felt bad for the creature if it wasn't such an elusive asshole. As if out of panicked desperation, tentacles released from the armor, sliding down the length of its forearms and tunneling directly into her...

The sequential crackle of ripping seams was immediately disguised by the sounds of a cataclysmic collapse. Thudding and clamoring echoed from all around, ricocheting from the walls with a prolonged and deafening crescendo.

Amidst the avalanche of chaos, Elora had been released from the soldier's strangle-hold. Falling onto the ground, she brandished her spear overhead, instincts demanding a shield from the impact of plummeting objects. 

That was easier than I expected., she mused, admiring Freyd's own conviction and willingness to change. Or, at the very least, to consider the prospect of undertaking such a monumental endeavor. Fashioning her spear into a sort of walking stick, Elora slinked behind her trailblazing partner. Their 'path' ahead, however, appeared more obscure than the majority of Aincradian forests she'd ever had the displeasure of bushwhacking through. Clutching the weapon even closer to her chest, she did her best to squeeze between towering stacks, maneuver around strewn piles of potions and armored plating. All the while, she went against Freyd's instruction, sending cautious taps from the pointed blade or its hefty hilt to test the integrity of anything she dared traverse.

By the time they'd trudged only a few meters in, items had begun to slide and fall from their perches atop many others. It was as if journeying through the junk was like entering a living organism, one whose sensory network sent distress signals to every other corner of the room. An unexpected squeal diverted her attention from exploring the metaphor any further. 

"What was --", she exclaimed just as Freyd had done the same. Before she could even ask, whatever poltergeist they'd been chasing had lurched into the air. Like a sticky hand slapped onto the underside of a ceiling, the creature suctioned around Freyd's face, reducing his screams to a horrific muffle. Elora immediately brandished her spear, her mind, blessedly, sparing the seconds necessary to refrain from severing her boyfriend's head from the rest of his body.

"WHAAA --! F-FREYD, HOLD ON! DON'T PANIC --!!", she cried out, her brain in limbo between several different responses. "W-WHAT DO I DO?! STAY STILL FOR A SECOND!", she demanded as limbs erratically swayed and slammed into their surrounding objects. As if by some hilarious and cartoonish law of nature, the piles around them began to shake. Elora watched in disbelief as mounds of the horde began to teeter and cascade into one another like calico dominos in the distance. Shaking hands tried and failed to aim between the slim hit box of the the insidious abomination and her lover's countenance.

With no other means to save him, she cast her polearm to the current of clutter and dove into the fray.