Nymoria

Three had fallen beneath her wide strike, the blade lashing inwards and outwards as it tore through smoke and core, causing the creatures to disappear in a smattering of shards. The final thing seemed to jump backwards without leaving the ground, before lashing out with a tendril of its form, catching Nymoria on the side of the ribs. The damage was, as before, minimal, but she didn’t want to continue to place herself into a dangerous position. Ducking around the form, she put some space between herself and it, her eyes darting as she glanced around the area to confirm no others had begun

She weaved in between the various forms, her sabre slashing around the mist that seeped from their bodies as she dove around half-hearted strikes in her direction. They seemed human like, at their core – the forms similar to hers, and others she had seen. Yet a darkness seemed to cover them, creating a shadow like existence that erased any form of humanity that may have once been the things that stood before her. It both intrigued, and repulsed Nymoria, and she felt an urge to run away even though she could see that they were almost destroyed. That’s assuming they can be destroyed. Who’s

The creatures had come forward suddenly, moving towards Nymoria as if they reacted to her sudden desire to engage with them. She barely had time to reposition herself as they surged towards her, their forms seemingly a balance between ethereal and corporeal, flowing in a way that reminded her of smoke coming off a stove. Were it not for the fact that she’d been aware of the danger they presented, Nymoria knew that she would’ve been enraptured by their existence, wanting nothing more than to simply sit and watch them dance on the air. The reverie was broken as they launched themselves at

The group had slowly made their way beyond the gates of the city, the fresh air of the plains and the soft wind that accompanied and brought it passing over Nymoria’s face and skin with a tingling feeling. She’d closed her eyes for a few seconds at the first touch, before turning back to find the group already at work collecting the materials they’d need for the quest itself. Their success, thanks in part to the fondue that they’d purchased, meant that Nymoria would likely have an easy time escorting them – at least on this part of the quest. Content that they were safe for the moment,

They were an odd group, Nymoria had to admit. The overly cheerful and engaging form of Kingsley, the reserved and yet somehow grandfatherly knowing Foyle, and the form of Hanzoku who seemed out of place compared to everything else. Nymoria found herself wondering, just for a second, how she had ended up leading this band of adventurers through one of the oddest quests in Aincrad that she’d yet to come across. Shaking her head, knowing she would likely never find an answer, she instead followed behind the trio as they made their way towards the alchemist’s small shop. The air was as acrid

Whomever the NPC was, Nymoria wasn’t going to be given a chance to find out. Rising to its feet, it spread its hands wide to show that the sabre had been left behind on the ground and it provided no threat to her. Still, Nymoria naturally shifted, her own sabre in her left quivering slightly as she angled the tip into a ready stance. Do not worry, I will not attack you again now. It is time I take my leave. You have won this fight, and as such obtained a skill most beneficial to you. I think. As it signed the words, a small box appeared next to Nymoria, confirming the receipt of a new sk

Her eyes passed back and forth between the two men as they chatted following the completion of the quest, watching their movements as they made jests and jokes about their survival, and something about insurance. Her expression changed, however, at Freyd's mention of reading the signs. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, and for the first time a slight frown crossed her face in a pointed way. Her hands moved quickly, a harshness to their movements that may have bespoken anger, in a more verbal tone. Was that a deaf joke? She held her expression for a few moments, staring at Freyd in an almos

Silence, if it could be called that, had fallen between the two of them as Nymoria tried to reconcile her control and composure. Something about the suggestion from the other player had upset her to a degree she was unfamiliar with, and she wasn’t entirely sure why. Her eyes had glared at their form, trying to decipher what in their words had been the cause of the feelings that had taken over Nymoria’s mind. I’ve never gotten upset at someone before. Not like this. Why…what is it…? Her eyes widened suddenly as she turned back to the figure kneeling before her, still in the same position a

Enough. The hand that held up the sign seemed to waver slightly, giving Nymoria pause. Something about the resigned form of the cloaked figure had caught her, bringing her downward slash to a halt as soon as the sign had appeared. She was on edge, that couldn’t be argued, but as she looked over the figure and saw the sabre laying on the ground, she couldn’t help but feel like the figure had given up entirely. I surrender. Please, spare me. Nymoria considered the figure for a few seconds, her mind racing as she fought the desire to strike it down to be safe, and her own internal necessity

No sooner had Nymoria stepped forward and offered her assistance to the player, than two other individuals had appeared; both looking old enough to be her grandparents, if nothing else. She smiled at each of them as rounds of excitement, commentary and a flurry of voices rushed past and beyond her true comprehension. She noticed, and was thankful, for the first player’s careful motions to keep their lips visible – an action that Nymoria didn’t see too often in the real world. She waited patiently as they determined whether the newcomers would be joining them or not, before introducing her

Either the translation software in Cardinal had finally failed her, or Nymoria had watched a phrase form that was well beyond her understanding. Whatever the reasoning, she found herself stumped, staring at the teal-haired woman as she tried to piece together the meaning behind the apparent rhyme. After a moment, her fingers moving with an almost exaggerated slowness to them, Nymoria decided to simply ask. What's...what's a cheese us? Her expression held a bizarre mixed of query, concern and outright confusion as she stared at Adelyte, waiting for some sort of explanation that would hel

Nymoria’s reaction had been slower than Freyd’s, her eyes catching the sight of Morningstar standing before the giant thing only mere seconds before it had lunged towards to greet him. She, like Freyd, had called out – or at least she thought she had, any sound she’d likely made lost between her own lack of hearing, and the winds that roared around the area. Unlike Freyd, however, she’d been rooted to the spot, not moving to help, not doing anything other than watching in horror as the form of Morningstar disappeared. Breaths turned into seconds as Nymoria waited to see the outcome, her e

Their blades had missed each other, the forms colliding and smashing their heads off one another before reeling backwards in utter shock and surprise. Nymoria had expected to land her blow, the movement so unorthodox compared to her regular fighting style that she had been certain of its success. She had, however, over calculated the distance she would need, and had been far too close to complete the movement. Knowing that every second counted, however, she’d forced herself back into movement. The precious breaths wasted trying to reconcile from her collision had placed her at a disadvan