Morningstar

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Approved! Welcome to Aincrad.

The evening's events had brought yet another player to Kineallan Parish. Spectral Knights were a thing of the past, and the players who fought them off had all but retired for the night, so it appeared she had missed out on all the fun. She stood outside the church, drenched by the neverending downpour, presenting herself as an ally. The wind kicked up over Morningstar's voice. "I'm Morningstar, leader of the Trackers Alliance! We're friendly—don't mind her cursor. Where are you coming from?" The wind tore through the cemetary like a living force—howling between cracks in the church,

denied because you spelled desserts wrong. jk this is approved.

approved

He stalled, compensating for the loss of momentum. Her attention drifted from him, affixed on the stage. They were close enough to touch, but he could hardly tell she was there. The song ended, replaced by whatever was next in queue—another fast, pulsing rhythm that failed to spark anything in him. Stella had ceased dancing altogether, enthralled by something beyond the crowd. He felt Castor slip away. He was Morningstar again, and suddenly, dancing with a stranger felt foreign. “Everything okay?” Morningstar asked. ”Ah, sorry… Must be the wine getting to me.” He matched he

Approved! Welcome to Aincrad!

Fights like this made him want to retire. There was no glory, no reward. Numb fingers tightened around his sword. He clashed against a soldier's, deflecting an obvious attack. Star lunged, slipping on a hidden patch of ice. Metal shot past his head, sticking into the snow-buried dirt. He collected himself, drawing an upward slash through the soldier's leather armor. Some soldiers made it past the trio. They picked and pulled at the wooden wall, ravaging all the players had set out to build. Flames ate away at the only real defense that Snowfrost had. Star blitzed back, eliminating th

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”You’re very good at this.” And so was she. She blossomed as the song went on, her body loosening until matching his tempo came easily. It was like she had found the switch in her head that turned off the voice telling her to slow down; to be more careful. Her stiff shoulders dropped, and the dance became fluid. ”I don’t suppose you do this sort of thing often?” Castor's lips tugged at the corners as if to mimic Stella, and suddenly he was somewhere else. It was the same in many ways—bright lights, music he could feel in his heart. But he was someone else, and so were the peopl

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@Astra gives u 1x Devaloka Fragment (1) | Consumable Allows its user to skip the searching portion of the <<Feeding your Enemy>> quest. If the player fails to tame the creature, they will have to find it again by the searching rules in the quest. Can also be used to change a familiar’s appearance to a form of itself based on illusory light. Single-use item.

[MORNINGSTAR & WILLOW] — lvl 101 | tier 11 — Willow poked her head through a broken window. Shadows danced along the walls, cast by a lit wood stove near the back. Her heart raced. “If ghosts were real, this would be the place to find them.” “Ghosts are real,” Morningstar said firmly. The howling wind drove them inside. Fire crackled at the end of the room; the floorboards creaked and groaned with each step they took. Willow knelt close to the stove, soothing her icy fingers. “It’s ambient. Floor 29 has a similar effect. You can find lanterns in places where nobody liv

Of course Oscar was the host. Who else could have orchestrated such a unique event? He and Willow separated. She took to the bar; he to the dance floor. Heat radiated from the crowd, and regrettably, he had worn a suit. He pushed his way in, cutting past the outer wall of dancers and finding a place near the center. The classical ballroom melody he enjoyed so much shifted into a polar opposite electropop track, and with it went the sophistication of the dance floor. That was fine. It was more suitable to dance alone to. He stepped in tandem with the beat, ignorant of those around him. Mas

[MASKED] — lvl 101 — “It says we’ve been cordially invited to a Masquerade ball.” Morningstar leaned over the kitchen counter, twirling his coffee with a spoon until the milk turned it beige. He yawned, half-listening. “That’s nice, dear,” he murmured. Willow, still eyeing the ornate card, wandered into the kitchen. “Could be fun.” “Mm. Not really my scene,” Wobbly, he shuffled to the table across the room. The look she gave him could have frightened a tiger. “What do you mean? It’s exactly your scene,” she argued. “Sounds loud,” Star continued foolishly. Wi