Acanthus

Putting up barricades with one good hand frustrated Acanthus. Her abilities were limited to short distances and light boxes. She tried testing her bound hand once, only to find it totally numb. Her HUD told her that she could reclaim her hand in another sixteen hours. She knew a real broken wrist would be much worse, but losing access to her hand still felt humiliating. Saitou, easily thirty years her senior, was running laps around her. He was currently balanced on a wall of conjoined boxes about two meters tall. “Hand me the hammer, girl. Mine just lost durability.” Acanthus looked up i

“I’d like to help as well, Argent.” Acanthus pushed up with her good hand, swaying as she stood. “I can’t do much, but it’s better than sitting on the crates uselessly.” “I’m honestly just shocked that you’re not trying to slip away while I’m busy. You seemed pretty reluctant to stay under observation in the first place.” “It’s not like I can do anything with my arm and leg messed up like this,” Acanthus complained. “I’m too screwed up to go on a real quest. I’m basically useless.” Argent’s familiar hand squeezed her shoulder, and he frowned at her. “Acanthus, stop saying that.

“What’s Saitou’s problem?” Argent walked towards the boxes where Acanthus sat uncomfortably. “If I had to guess, he doesn’t like being told his home is a dump.” “But it is. I didn’t mean to be rude, but look at this place. I know it’s a Safe Zone so it’s not falling into the swamp anytime soon. But what do they like about Eriwald?” Argent plopped down on the boxes next to her. “I don’t know. I would never want to live here. But that doesn’t deprive Saitou and the others of their right to settle down in Bug-opolis on the Swamp.” “It’s a terrible decision.” Argent made a non-

“Backup? Where do you think we are? The Aincrad Liberation front doesn’t come up this far, and the frontlines don’t come down this low.” “Then why don’t you just leave? This looks like a terrible place to live anyways.” Saitou’s glare turned murderous. Acanthus realized she had said something she shouldn’t have a moment too late. Thankfully, Argent stepped forward. “Saitou, let’s head over and drop these off together. After that, let’s talk about getting some barricades up, and discuss some long-term solutions to your Spectral Knight problem. Acanthus, wait by the plaza for me. I’ll

“Lucky girl. Ours seems hellbent on finding NPCs to eat. Jokes on them—Eriwald ain’t nothing but a dozen shacks and two NPCs. One NPC, now.” Saitou’s assessment was on the mark. Eriwald might have been the smallest Main Settlement Acanthus had ever been in. The whole place was barely a row of houses, each built on stilts that leaned dangerously into the murky water. Two dozen players stood behind Saitou, looking fearful and hopeful all at once. “Well, I’m keeping ya, Argent. If you could drop the crates off at Muck’s, Thrymr and CrowHunter will sort through ‘em and hand ‘em out.”

“Things? There’s more than one?” Acanthus wormed her way into the conversation once again. Saitou gave her a dull look. “Yes, girlie. There was just the one, and then it went off and ate Grundar the Blacksmith. No, it didn’t literally eat the damn thing,” Saitou interjected before Acanthus could speak. “That’s just what the kids called it when it… when it did whatever it did.” “Did it look like he was… breaking, I think it the best word for it.” One immovable eyebrow raised slowly. “Yea, that’s about right. Cracked like a bad mirror. Bad luck, my grandfather always said. Bad luck to

“Got yerself a sharp one, Argent,” he drawled. “She can name all the colors in a crayon box. Even shows a few when she gets embarrassed.” The heat in her face suggested a flush apparent to both Argent and Saitou. Acanthus did her best to recover. She bowed appropriately, saying, “my apologies, Mr. Saitou.” “Saitou is fine. You can bow, but it’s a waste of time. Did you bring the crystals, Argent?” The tavern keeper stepped forward, eager to reclaim the conversation and spare Acanthus. “Five crates: three for healing and two for antidote. Hopefully it will last.” “It won’t. Those

Of all the floors to visit, Acanthus had ranked the Eighteenth as the least likely, alongside the other inhospitable ones. There was no part of the floor untouched by bog and mire. The bogs differed from Floor 29 in that they contained some trace of life, but the life they contained left no room for players. Large creatures lurked below the swampy green waters, and the incessant swarms of bugs were somehow worse than their real-life counterparts. To Acanthus, the floor was uninhabitable. Surprisingly, that hadn’t stopped players from inhabiting it. Argent greeted the leader of the sm

Acanthus felt her heart pulse rhythmically. It was not the steady, biological warmth she knew from reality. In game, focusing on her pulse gave her the feeling of a stiff, ticking clock. As Argent’s fingers pushed delicately into her carotid, she felt her clock quicken for a fraction of a second. “Six seconds is enough to track a pulse,” she said quietly, and Argent’s hand slipped away. “I’m sorry. Would you like to be done for now?” Acanthus shook her head. “You’re fine. I just wanted to make sure nothing was the matter.” “You seem to be in perfect health, fractures and sprains asid

Sure enough, Acanthus saw three debuffs remaining (outside of the ever-present “Lightweight” effect): A sprained leg, a fractured wrist, and Disease - Blackblood. “The first two explain themselves. The last one is… confusing. It’s not causing any damage that I can see or that the game can register. It didn’t exacerbate your other debuffs as far as I could see. Now that you’re awake, I’d like to run some tests. May I touch you?” “If you have to. Haven’t you already been doing that while I was out?” “Just enough to get you here and make you drink potions. But now that you’re awake, I’d

Despite her bedridden frustration, Acanthus found the way Argent explained the system fascinating. She’d never taken the time to parse the intricacies of healing in the game. His thorough understanding reminded her of the time she wished to catalogue all the flora of Aincrad. She listened silently. “That distinction saved your life two nights ago. One of your debuffs was the infamous ‘Infection IV.’ Standing alone, it ticks away at your health like any other poison debuff. But it has a lesser-known effect: whenever another debuff hits zero, it triggers a moderate burst of damage. If I’d c

Acanthus' indignance subsided in the face of Argent's calm rebuke. Finally, she offered an apology. "Thank you." Argent let the response hang in the air before speaking. "I'm just glad you're ok." "You did a good job with the splint. Did you already know how, or did the game help out?" “Yes. To both.” Argent pulled up the party menu and talked as he reviewed her health bar like a patient’s chart. “I served for about two years as a medic in the army. I didn’t see a lot of action, but I saw enough that the training stuck. You’d be surprised how much of it applies to video games.”

Acanthus sucked in a week's worth of oxygen in a single breath. Her left arm slammed the headboard behind her; she tried sitting up with her right, only to find it fixed firmly in a cast. Her instincts told her to channel a sword art, but botan rested on the other side of the room. A hand gripped her shoulder tightly and squeezed once. Argent stood over her with sunken eyes and a relieved smile. His other hand held three different bottles, all nearly empty. "Hold still. I have another round of potions." Deftly, he uncorked each of the three bottles and administered them to the unwilling p

The Spectral Knight relented under the Player’s onslaught, toppling to the ground. Lessa’s encouragement spurred their progress; Acanthus watched with a distant satisfaction as the others worked together to bring down their strange opponent. As Morningstar moved away from their quarry, Acanthus took the opening. She rushed in, taking the quickest path to the fallen Knight, and flew past Morningstar, stirring up dust in their wake. Alcohol doesn’t smell in-game, does it? The thought nagged at her, causing her to miss an otherwise perfect opening. Botan still connected for almost half

The little girl shook her head and repeated herself. "You're not done. I need you." Both pairs of eyes brimmed with tears. "I need you to find <<The Root>>." The demand sparked a sudden wave of anger. I'm not going. Find it yourself. But the little girl again shook her head. "I can't. I'm not allowed to. It has to be a person… like you." I don't care! If Acanthus could have spoke, she would have been screamed. The intrusion disrupted her peaceful kingdom. The room itself rebelled against the girl: every step she took made the fantasy waver. Acanthus' peaceful surroundings

Despite what her mind regarded as absolute truth, her heart ached with emotion. She would take whatever solace the hallucination offered her. Exhaling, she closed her eyes, ready to remain as long she was allowed. <<You have a visitor.>> The pleasant, neutral voice piped directly into her brain, and Haru's eyes snapped open. She accepted the disembodied voice without question or curiosity, and simply trained her eyes on the door, waiting for her guest. A young girl entered the room. She looked remarkably like a young Haru, although Acanthus remained certain that she

Continued from <<A Bottle a Day>> Everything was normal. And that wasn't normal at all. Haru's heart monitor beeped steadily. The birds outside chirped, crowed, and sang just like songbirds should: there was no cackling, no rumbling, nor chittering from any fantastic, oversized creatures. Taeko Onuki gently accompanied the birds, smooth pop playing through the radio by Haru's bedside. And a clean, antiseptic scent clung to the sheets. The same smell that clung to Haru every day she returned home from work. Every part of the room was familiar, and everything she saw felt

Grind thread combat template Some notes on this grinding thread: I am simplifying the math for my own sanity. I will list BD values for the rolls although results it won't matter. Because I'll be spawning in monsters with no evasion, ACC 5 and AA will always hit. In the dice roller, I will be noting rolls as AoE1/Looting [Monster Name] [Number]-[Number]. I don't think it matters which roll lines up with which mob because they all have the same loot values, and all will die to one hit. In case it matters, low Roll ID matches low numbers to low numbers. For example, if Roll IDs 100000—10000

"Hey Acanthus, sorry to ask, but would you message your friend Argent and tell him I found you? He's been blowing up my inbox and I couldn't respond while fighting." “Argent?” So he *hadn’t* trusted her to find a party. She bit her lip in frustration, trying to tamp down her annoyance. Argent was only trying to help, and after saving her once, Acanthus begrudgingly owed him. Stiffly, she opened her messages and sent a quick confirmation. <<Argent. Made it here. I found a party. Baldur sends his regards.>> Acanthus thought better of expressing her anger through the me

THREAD SUMMARY Experience | [Word Count: 7960/10 = 796] * [True Tier: 8] * [Group Factor: 1] = 6368 * 1.1 (slime farm) = 7004 EXP Col | 955 (Laurel Wreath) + 400 (Bonus) + 315,510 (Loot) = 316,865 Col Materials | 100 (Loot) = 100 materials Mon | 1 Mon earned. Looted Items: (Note: I am not listing all the Rare and Uncommon items. It's just too much bookkeeping, and not worth holding onto them for appraisals. This is my formal notice that I am intentionally not listing them because I am not claiming them. Consider them destroyed.) T4 Perfect Weapon | [243800a][243800b][243

Argent stood at the bar, wiping it down one last time. It had been a good evening: plenty of people and plenty of good conversations. Around 2:30, he had sent the last three patrons, a friendly group of older men, on their way. They paid their tab cheerfully and tucked their chairs in as they left. Now that Argent stood alone in the bar, he could begin to clean. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to only clean when no one was around. Part of the feeling stemmed from a desire to be present with the patrons while they were here. Many of them came here to talk and socialize, and when they d

Her return to the teleportation plaza was a blur of pain. Acanthus had the distinct sensation of her mind and body as separate entities, firmly detached and refusing to communicate. Her body processed physical sensations—the swampy roads back to Illridge, the violent vibrations of her left leg and both of her arms. Other parts of her body she could not name twisted in pain as well. The litany of debuffs remained even outside of battle. She did not recognize half of them, but she did see her health bar slowly draining, battle healing be damned. Her mind took these sensations and archived

A clarion call erupted from the knight, overwhelming and terrifying. The volume and intensity increased until a small *pop* signaled the end of her hearing. Acanthus could feel the vibration of the horn shifting the organs in her body, and the paws of each individual rat as they scattered. They were no longer biting; they seemed more terrified of the knight that they were hungry for Acanthus. All at once, the infinite rats vanished like a cloud of soot, leaving her alone on the belltower with either her savior and executioner. The knight regarded Acanthus with a sense of intelligence she

The reality of the situation settled in. The rats, an end of her own making, was so close that it pressed against the hatch. The tower was tall enough that even if she could survive the fall, she would almost certainly be paralyzed long enough for the rats to reach her. The hope she had chosen to chase dangled over a ledge of her own, eager for escape at any cost. Her final thoughts were a steady stream of practical concerns. Who’s going to keep my shop open? I’m not married, so none of my items will pass on either. What a waste. I spent a long time getting all of my gear together. This i

Acanthus lay there, stunned. She had always wondered what it would be like to finally convince part of the game that it was crafted. Seeing the results left Acanthus terrified. “There’s something wrong here. On Mire—M–ire… Floor Twenty-Nine.” Her voice stuttered like a lagging internet connection. “I’m supposed to die every day. But I’m not supposed to remember it.” She held up her fingers and began to count. “Drowned. Cut down. Suffocated. Crushed by debris. Eaten. Eaten alive. Drowned again.” Her laugh echoed, causing the bell to ring faintly. “The list goes on. I didn’t always remember