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A Drink on The House | 243585, CD: 9 -> Dry, Red Wine PH

A Drink on The House | 243584, CD: 9 -> Dry, Red Wine PH

A Drink on The House | 243583, CD: 11 -> Cinnamon Vodka PH

A Drink on The House | 243582, CD: 10 -> Whiskey PH

Travel Back | 243581, LD: 5 -> The storm becomes severe and downs a tree in the road before you. PH

Travel Back | 243580, LD: 14 -> Only you hear a murder of crows cawing your name over and over from the trees above. You swear one calls you by your real world name. But there are no crows. Or anything, as far as you can see. PH

Travel Back | 243579, LD: 2 -> You pass a scarecrow that moves every time you take your eyes off of it. It disappears as you enter the bar. PH

Travel Back | 243578, LD: 18 -> One of the wheels pops off the wagon. As you rush to fix it, you hear the sound of something giggling and scampering towards you. You never see what it is as you get back on the road. PH

Unloading the Cargo | 243577, LD: 5 -> You see a small creature about the size of a rat, but some otherworldly monstrosity you could never even imagine. It shrieks and runs away into the shadows. PH

Unloading the Cargo | 243576, LD:13 -> You hear a voice that only you can hear. It speaks in tongues but you understand. Terrible things whispered into your ear, Once you depart from the vessel, the voice is no longer with you. Helping Raidou with the cart, the quest would appear at first glance to be no different then most. The sheer amount of delivery quests they'd undertaken confirmed it, despite their differing surroundings. Out of all, these usually were the easiest and Simmone welcomed the simplicity. Third up, she would ensure that Shiina didn't wander into who knows where and f

Unloading the Cargo | 243575, LD: 2 -> You find one person on the ship, if you can call them that. An undead, fish-person with eerily long arms. They clutch a broom in their hands and they slowly sweep the deck, specifically behind you (the roller) as you explore the ship. Going through the stack of documents, the nomad sets his gaze upon a manifest. Confirming the establishments dealings while also causing a corrupted quest to insert itself into his vision. "H.P. given the context. Is Howard Phillips. The author of countless eldritch oriented novels." He'd set down the paper and accep

Unloading the Cargo | 243574, LD:10 -> You find a barrel of wine that is leaking profusely. Its flow seems never ending. It tastes a bit flat. Upon the galleon that had run aground, now perched precariously inside a unfortunate building Setsuna slides. A quest prompt appears, sending a fuzz across her screen. <<Escort the booze us...>> It cuts away in a distorted mess but provides the necessary markers. Some even conveying that they lingered beneath her very feet. "Fine" Setsuna spat in a cutting whisper, hovering her hand over her weapon's hilt as she'd pierce into the da

*Thump Thump Thump* Like a bull in a china shop, the girl was extremely subtle. Plate armor on crappy wooden duct taped together docks wasn't exactly going to give her any amount of secrecy. "Kinda lame." She'd quip in a dismissive twist of her tone, given out here there wasn't much to do. No NPC's to bother, it was like legit going to a birthday by yourself. Floors in the past had something to interact with, yet in this hodunk there wasn't and Shiina was instinctually bored being the social butterfly she was. Outside the door, she picks up a sheet of wood, a bit of chain still dangling off of

Pulling the strands of her hair apart to shove her pony tighter together, Simmone's heels click upon the wood. It is disheartening, the way it creeks makes her feel as though it is on the brink of giving way. Yet even still, she keeps pace with the others. Shortly into the door after the wanderer. Her nose would scrunch up. "This place reeks." as the potent fragrance of rot and dried something assault her nose. Couple that with the wet murk from outside and it was a world of bad flavors. A twist of her frame as she'd use both hands to raise a panel of wood and help herself behind the bar. The

A pair of burning orange eyes, studied through time held fast to their environment. A studious guide in ripe new horizons, he'd play to his strengths with a small book and pen. A crash in the distance has him seek his companion from the roof, offering her a nod as she'd jump out of sight. "Setsuna is on the move, it came from the left." The swordsman offers as he'd begin to paddle their vessel deeper into the bogtown. Adrift they'd find a patch of ground dry enough to stand upon, and inside not a soul in sight even still. "Empty..." The nomad would glean, beginning to move chairs and cups. Not

Waiting at the Docks | 243573, LD: 16 -> The brigantine does not dock, and instead tears through the dock, before beaching itself. The dimly lit bog of a town, the brand new floor was a reflection of another much lower. Bits of debris float harmlessly in stagnant water, offering a bit of earthiness to the mildew funk. A small barge toward the far end of town, the other players would ride. Setsuna hops from roof to roof in the manner to which she was accustomed. Scouring the local, trying to get a sense of what new dangers could be lingering just out of sight. The town was empty, not a

"Quite the sweet tooth." the man offers as he'd take the tea offered into a cup and it causes the lenses on his brow to become opaque with heat. "Best be careful, too much sugar can be the death of you." The clatter of a tea cup back to the platter, the tension could be felt like a thick blanket pulled taught. Sounds of their surroundings begin to slowly fade, becoming a faint memory of existing like an whisper down a long corridor. Here and now, despite it all they were alone. Busy streets, nothing more then a painting in motion. "In Two Gentlemen of Verona. A tale of two men, as the title im

♫ A simple splash of a puddle, as the blow struck deeper then most would realize. It breaks the silence between the flashing overhead light in its static pops. A somber strobe that casts vision into pieces like lightning strikes. A man face first, drowning in his own despair. Drifting and motionless. What would be left is the flesh burning chill that ravished the skin, every breathe visible but for a brief hot instant. The creeping cold that attacked at heels, like shackles upon the ankle destined to contain a prisoner. The room belonged to the victor, and it would be they who would write

4/8/25 Desolate halls ring ad Infinium, an echo that could extend for miles if it was allowed. Golden filigree that gleamed in aggression at the light cast through gateways to sunrays that beat upon their very surface. The pungent stink of emptiness glazed the senses, and every footfall breathed a life that felt alone in its solidarity. An ode to a time begotten, waiting desperately for its next intrusion like a museum to the damned. Duty bound armors stay their arms in a silent array of sentry, guarding podiums a plenty of gifts of ages. As if waiting for another to breach its halls and

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"I know" Jomei's voice breathy as he took heavy breaths in and out. "I know I know. I'm sorry. I'm not-" he released a much longer, smoother breath as his nerves finally calmed, "Too much of a fan either." Thick rain drops, like bullets made of water, pelted him in the face making it hard to keep his eyes open for more than a second. Though, the falling rain was the least of his worries, now that the back of his head waded in murky, dank sea water. "I didn't see many other options, and with the fire-" He hadn't even processed that Lessa had fallen on top of him, until he felt the weight of her

In the romcoms Alyssa had inhaled before Aincrad, the gentleman was always offering his jacket to his date at the faintest sign of a shiver. It was romantic, really, that a man might give up his own comfort to take care of someone he cared about. In actuality? Well, it kind of just frustrated Lessa. Granted, these were different circumstances. Most of those movies hadn't featured gale force winds, torrential downpours, or creatures that had crawled straight from the bowels of Hell itself. Come to think of it, none of them had. Also, actuality didn't feature Matthew McConaughey or Hugh Grant, s

Himiko flinched at the sudden outburst, instinctively shrinking back, she leapt like a scared cat, bolting away she hadn’t meant to startle the woman, but she supposed most people didn’t expect to be watched so closely. That was her mistake. Still, there was no anger in Adelyte’s reaction, only surprise, and soon enough, that gave way to warmth. The invitation was clear. A shift of belongings, a pat to the blanket, an opening in the moment. She hesitated, just for a second. Then, quietly, she moved forward, settling onto the soft fabric with her legs tucked beneath her.

The sudden realization of the girl's presence, even at a slight distance, was startling. Others walked the park's paths, keeping to their own devices. In a world of swords and monsters, a lone woman sketching wasn't exactly an exciting sight. Yet, here this young, ashen haired girl crouched, her gentle gaze locked onto the dark scribbles of charcoal on the page. "Gah! Don't look!" was her first instinct, nearly toppling over as she pulled the book into her chest. The girl appeared young, maybe about half of her own age, and timid given the volume of her voice and the space she gave Adely