Acanthus

This was a bad idea. Acanthus returned with another set of crafts. The beautiful saree she wore seemed much less beautiful with her in it. She felt clumsy as she stepped on the hem of the garment time and time again. And people kept staring. Everywhere she looked, people were staring at her, only to quickly glance away. I’m wearing it wrong. I must be wearing the stupid thing wrong. And everyone here is too nice to say something. She met with Hiten one last time. “As much as I’ve enjoyed making all of these songs, I don’t know that I have many more of these in me. I’m spending a lot of ma

Acanthus took a different path to Hiten today. She wasn’t sure what had sparked the deviation, but to Acanthus, it felt nearly criminal. She’d already measured out the shortest path; doing anything else cost her time in the game. By her count, it was about 47 seconds longer. And the time was about to stretch even further. One of the festival NPCs approached her from a purple marquee, drawing Acanthus to her with a gentle, enamoring voice. "Hello. How might I be of service today?" “Nothing, thank you.” Despite her rush, she felt compelled to stay and chat just a little longer. She did

Crafting for 10/30/2024 Extended Workshop. (+3 EXP total from Trinket | Tuning Fork + Hard Working) Roll: ID# CD: LD: Quality Count Experience Ambition Mod 1 237160 CD: 8 +1 LD: 10 Rare - 8 (+3 Ambition) 2 237159 CD: 2 +1 LD:

The Pallankuli tables called to Acanthus. She hopped over like a curious bird to see what had been done since the last time she’d been here. Crestfallen, she observed the stones in mostly the same places as before. Were other people not taking these games seriously? She reached for another large pile of stones. She’d prefer that every pocket have the exact same number of stones, but she knew that wasn’t the way the game was played. Some irrational part of her just liked the way everything looked so even on the board. The tables began to crowd around her, she began to feel a little crowded

Crafting for 10/29/2024 Extended Workshop. (+3 EXP total from Trinket | Tuning Fork + Hard Working) Roll: ID# CD: LD: Quality Count Experience Ambition Mod 1 237110 CD: 7 +1 LD: 16 Rare (Mast) - 8 (+3 Ambition) 2 237109 CD: 4 +1 LD:

The younger boy seemed content to dig on his own for now. “Let me know if you change your mind.” And so she continued her orderly line across the surf. There was a foot where her next hole was supposed to go. As if awakening from a dream, Acanthus exited her self-made subroutine and examined the person to whom the foot belonged. A melancholy man with a mop of ginger hair nursed a bottle, staring contemplatively out at the sea. He seemed like he was deep in thought—it would probably be best to work around him. With a slight circular arc, she continued her line of holes behind the brooding

Fighting grew fierce in the fetid mire. Each team held their own, but it was clear even this early that a prolonged fight would spell disaster. The players fought not only the boss, but the terrain as well: deep, sucking mudholes underneath the stinking water made charging and attacking the bear difficult. But Callisto was right at home. He roared, charging the second and third teams. Rearing up on its hind paws, he let out another howl, unlike the rest. It reverberated through the arena with a force so grating that Acanthus nearly dropped her weapon to cover her ears. Her hand moves auto

Another day of crafts. Acanthus enjoyed the growing routine; she might even miss it over time. Ronbaru’s trappings changed slightly from day to day, ribbons and lights slowly changing color. A young lady in light robes introduced herself as Dayanita. “I manage the lights of the festival, making sure they are ready to be replaced by others once they are extinguished. Would you be willing to help out? It would prove an excellent way to reflect on your journey leading up to this moment.” Oh, a quest designed for self-reflection. “No thanks.” Acanthus moved on. Emerging from Hiten’s

Crafting for 10/28/2024 Extended Workshop. (+3 EXP total from Trinket | Tuning Fork + Hard Working) Roll: ID# CD: LD: Quality Count Experience Ambition Mod 1 237050 CD: 5 +1 LD: 19 Uncommon (Mast) - 6 (+3 Ambition) 2 237049 CD: 10 +1

Acanthus found herself drawn back to the lights and wonder of Ronbaru. The little game she’d played the other day interested her in particular—Pallankuli, was it? She dropped by the tables again to look over the board and make a move. Some of the kuli were starting to pile up, which irked Acanthus for some indescribable reason. She chose the largest pile on the board and spread it across the other kuli. She was reminded of dropping seeds in a garden. Having partaken in her scheduled fun for the day, she moved back towards Hiten and his gathering pile of crafts. She nodded to a familiar pl

Crafting for 10/27/2024 Extended Workshop. (+3 EXP total from Trinket | Tuning Fork + Hard Working) Roll: ID# CD: LD: Quality Count Experience Ambition Mod 1 236948 CD: 12 +1 LD: 15 Perfect (Mast) - 11 (+3 Ambition) 2 236947 CD: 8 +1

A player, vaguely familiar in her mind, arrived and greeted her. She recalled him from the raid meeting, as well as the beach party. He’d remembered her name, but Acanthus was embarrassed to find she could not remember his. If she could just hold out until someone else recognized him and said hello… “That’s correct—my name it Acanthus. We haven’t had much time to talk yet, although I have seen you a few times. I think I recognize you from somewhere else as well… Did you happen to meet a girl named Tiye on the first floor? About my height, blond hair, green eyes." She managed her w

Surround Sound: TWO soundtracks for Acanthus, baby Round 1: Some Old Evals Name: Edict's Threnody Profession: Performer Rank: 5 Roll ID: 232324 Roll Result: CD: 12 LD: 14 Item Type: Debuff Song Tier: Tierless Quality: Perfect (Masterpiece) Enhancement: Perpetuate (Instant) Post Link:

Link to quest Part of Acanthus felt guilty for even being here. These kinds of quests weren't exactly an efficient use of time. She'd given up two and a half crafting sessions and a morning jog to make time for this; what's more, other quests offered twice the rewards in half the time. But the festivities were so bright and colorful. She admired the dancers as they spun through the streets, and watched with reverence as players lit diya with silent, thoughtful prayers. There was EXP, and then there were experiences. She had to remind herself to seek out both. Besides, she deserved a

The streets of Ronbaru looked like streaks of stars set in the sky. Acanthus walked slowly, taking in the sights and sounds. She’d never seen anything like it. The city was electric with singing, and dancing, and other activities put on by the myriad of citizens. She strolled through the streets with an armful of special recording crystals. A man by the name of Hiten had put out the call for crafts made in the name of the festival, and Acanthus thought she would oblige. It probably would give her some good experience. Sure, the crafts allowed her to experiment with a compositional genre o

Crafting for 10/25/2024 Extended Workshop. (+3 EXP total from Trinket | Tuning Fork + Hard Working) Roll: ID# CD: LD: Quality Count Experience Ambition Mod 1 236657 CD: 9 +1 LD: 5 Rare - 8 (+3 Ambition) 2 236656 CD: 12 +1 LD:

THREAD SUMMARY Experience: Acanthus | [Word Count: 8608/10 = 860.8] * [True Tier: 6] * [Group Factor: 1] = 5165 EXP Col: 774 (Laurel Wreath) + 800 (Bonus Pages) + 767, 014 (Looting) = 768,588 Col (282) Materials Item totals Perfect Weapon Perfect Armor Perfect Trinket Perfect Consumable Rare Weapon

Acanthus returned to Angel’s Point, her pockets much heavier than when she started. I could never have made this much strolling around picking weeds and flowers. She remembered how scarce the shards and scales had felt whenever she took her time, gently floating from gathering point to gathering point. It had been one of her many idiosyncrasies—that somehow, pretending she was in the real world would keep her tethered and sane. Without those strange little tics, she had amassed a small horde of end-game items. All it took was throwing away the things she loved about the game. “You best wa

She crammed a fist into the nearest rotting villager’s mouth. With a firm downward motion, she ripped its jaw off. Then, taking the mossy jawbone in her offhand, she bashed in the softened skull of another nearby villager. The fallen creature’s stomach bloated as she stepped on it, caving it in as she approached the third villager. She recognized the face as the person that had handed her tea the morning she left. The last person from camp she had talked to. Useless, pathetic sacks of loot. Meant to be harvested by players. By real people. She’d done the unthinkable. She had killed an ent

She had been too weak to fulfill her promise last time. “You’ll take care of Wanderer’s Rest, won’t you?” Grile smiled weakly. Too horrified to speak, she nodded. “Great. That’s great.” Grile exhaled. “You’re gonna have to kill me. I’ll turn soon. Can you do that for me?” Acanthus was finally back to take care of Wanderer’s Rest. She couldn’t do it. The faces, the people… Acanthus almost vomited from the anxiety as she stumbled out of the camp. She couldn’t bring herself to kill them all. Even one night at their camp was long enough to grow attached to them. Dead as they were, i

Acanthus recognized some familiar ruins. Wanderer’s Rest was just beyond the bend in the road. She tore around the bend in the road. All she had to do was warn them that the caravan had died, right? She could even bring back whatever they needed. She could help. She could still help. But in the few short hours she had been gone, so much had happened. The settlement appeared abandoned. Vines and foliage crept through overturned seats and crates, and knocked over tents gave the impression that those who had been here left in a hurry. But they hadn’t left. Ambling through the camp were

Acanthus ran back to the village in a state of near panic. If Greyson and the others couldn’t keep the village safe, then it was only a matter of time. She couldn’t have all this blood on her hands. NPC, player, whatever—she couldn’t do it. Acanthus strolled along the path, slaughtering the occasional mob as she returned to Wanderer’s Rest. How long had it been since her failure with the caravan? In Aincrad, time did not flow like a river. It was a vast ocean at high noon, a merciless sun beating down on the drifting players, further adding to their disorientation. Each player was despera

When she exited the meadow, the mangled form of Grile shocked her. He grabbed Acanthus’ leg. “You…” He coughed violently. “You have to get back to the village. Tell them we won’t make it. They need to know so that someone else can bring materials back to the village. Kara… I don’t know how, but she followed us. We… we hesitated for a moment too long.” The previous pack was already gone, and Acanthus had already moved on to the next ones. They weren’t people anyways. Acanthus took a few moments to register the tree that had birthed her first real sword, Wormwood. It was enough for a

It had been exactly as it was the first time. A thick canopy obscured most of the light in the clearing, except for a single spear of sun that struck the middle of the meadow. The light shined on a single tree, far bigger than any other in the area. The Strongoak Tree. The Strongoak Tree, Greyson said with some reverence. You go ahead and gather what you need. The rest of us will be outside the meadow. Don’t worry about us—we will be fine. “Are you sure?” Acanthus worried that they were trying to get rid of her. She’d already caused the death of one of them. They assuaged her, telling her

Try as she might, she couldn’t pick the sounds out from the wall of noise in the grove. Birds cackled and leaves shook, but it felt like a sticky mess of a singular noise, like a bag of candy left in a hot car. It was nothing like the beautiful tapestry of natural sounds from the real world. All the game succeeded in doing was making her realize how fake everything here really was. Acanthus was crying. It was a steady, silent flow of tears, dropping directly into the soil beneath her. She told herself it was just exhaustion. Maybe frustration from not being up on her feet and killing. But