Morningstar

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Approved!

Approved

Ty was already using her head, opting to shove over a cairn rather than spamming sword arts in vain. Realizing that she was fine on her own, he moved on to his next task. He didn't question the container full of rusted equipment that had apparently been given to them at the start of the quest. It was the premise of their first trap: planting rusted equipment. What did it do exactly? He didn't know. Maybe in the dark, they would step on a rusty sword and contract an ancient disease. Long term ailments--a tactical maneuver. He scattered the equipment along the path, making sure to place the

"What's the point of this quest?" A brilliant question. What was the point of any quest? Plot? Lore? Experience? Items? The latter two were a direct route to the frontlines, which would in turn lead to the escape of the game's player base. It was the whole reason they played, and so one could argue that was the point of the quest. The former, on the other hand, made life interesting on the inside. That was important too. "I don't know," Morningstar said. It was easier than monologuing. "I just do 'em." "There's caves outside of Charko. What does the quest log say to do?" He asked, sc

Morningstar liked to read. Fiction, non-fiction, cookbooks, poetry. Whatever the genre, he enjoyed it. While visiting Tomoika's (admittedly small) library, he found himself hours deep in an old history book. The most memorable chapters detailed a war between humans and dragons. It referenced a king, a battle, and a betrayal. He found it most interesting because it read like fiction, but it was sort of real. It had not happened hundreds of years before Morningstar picked up the book, of course, but the characters really did exist. At least, one of them did. The Lightbringer and the Time Ki

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-> finds AA

ph -> AA found on next post

Steel whistled in the soft wind. The shattering of the three Shamblers masked the sound of raindrops pittering against the stone street. The man’s breath was visible in the cold air. He huffed, marching back towards the dark, damaged home. The Shamblers perched on rooftops dared not move, lest they meet the end of their predecessors. He ducked into the house, wiping the water from his face. Somewhere, the injured creature hid away. Its bloody trail led back up the tower staircase, like it was doing some deranged hide and seek loop, always returning to previous locations. The man climbed o

Through what looked like magic, the man’s sword reappeared in his grip. It replaced the forearm rings and glowed as he brought it above his head. The Shamblers scurried into the living room, b-lining towards him, screeching all the way. He pulled down, cutting through the head of the nearest one. The rest swarmed him, doing everything they could to tear him apart. He charged, not to boost his own damage, but to escape their gnawing mandibles. His feet kicked up and with a loud crash, he blasted his way through the far wall. Outside, everything was worse. The bubble of safety that Astragal

Broken dishes covered the dirty floor of the rundown kitchen. Morningstar was left alone inside. Whatever had caused the plates and bowls to fall had long since run off. He took one last look around the house and left to reconvene with Crozeph. They stood at a dockyard at the edge of town, looking out over the ocean. The Black, it was called—an apt name, he thought. He wondered if the waves were ever calm, deciding that rough boating was likely the norm on Floor 29. Then, there was the behemoth, towering above the world, moving haphazardly along the horizon. He put it out of his mind. It

When the purple-haired woman of average height approached, Star let Acanthus do the talking. Teion, as she had introduced herself, spoke a prompt that activated Acanthus' neural network and enabled her search engine. Out came a flood of information related to Floor 9's quests. Star really needed to hire her. Without commenting on Acanthus'... comment, Morningstar replied to Teion's. "I think Bandit Camp's supposed to be kind of tough. The boss, at least," he shrugged. He figured that going alone was a bad idea. "Maybe we could join you? I mean, if you want. I'm Star, by the way." He

Did she say she'd joined Firm Anima? "Trucking along," he told her, leaving out the endless details of his past week alone. If she were to look at his calendar, she'd probably have a heart attack. "Good for you--joining Firm Anima. I know quite a few of their members. Freyd, Raidou, Foyle--that lot." It was clear that she had done some leveling since they last met. Her equipment was a level above baseline, and the rapier at her side looked quite nice. He set a mental reminder to ask who her blacksmith was. He reckoned Wulfrin, but without seeing the phoenix insignia, it could have ju

He fell back, crystal in hand, and sunk into the sand. Occasional splashes of waves soaked the sleeve of his shirt, but he didn't mind. He followed along with the white clouds that floated by, sometimes dropping his gaze to Willow. She was still about ankle deep, crouching as low as she could without getting her shorts wet. Something was in her palms—a shell or a crab, maybe. From behind, he couldn't tell what she was thinking. He huffed, climbing to one knee. "Will you marry me?" Maybe he had taken in too much sunlight for one day, but in that moment, his words rang clear. Wil

Morningstar and Willow escaped the crowd and found solace on the beach. Willow was ankle deep in the ocean, looking out at the horizon. A distant fishing boat passed by, not much more than a tiny dot on a blue canvas. "I'd love a boat," she commented, kicking up water. Star was digging in the sand like a toddler. He had taken inspiration from Acanthus, who had left to do the same sometime earlier. Since crystals were up for grabs, he thought it was a good place to look. "I wonder where you get them on this floor. Maybe we can buy one." "Where would we park it?" "I don't know. I'

Survival wasn't a strong enough skill to alleviate Star's hate for Floor 9. On a stone bench, he sipped from a flask, parched. "I'm firing Bistro. And everyone else. And then I'm going to Floor 4 and digging my grave in the snow," he groaned, in a deep state of overreaction. Four hours prior, Bistro had hand delivered a rumor to his office. When he saw its location, he immediately tried to pawn it off on someone else, only to find that the two of them were alone in the guild hall. According to his treasurer and (at the moment, least) favorite broker, it was time sensitive and too dangerou

THE TRACKERS ALLIANCE | 12/17/24 | GUILD QUEST EVALUATION

More Shamblers climbed through the windows, snapping their inky black forms to fit. They writhed, quick on their feet as they lunged at him, clicking and buzzing all the while. What warded them off previously was beginning to break, and although many of the monsters remained outside, their confidence was growing. Soon enough, the swarm would flood the house in its entirety. The man drilled his blade through the chest of a Shambler, moving on before its body hit the floor. He danced his way into the living room and saw Astragalus Anathema crouching behind the couch, gripping its broken ank

Morningstar’s hand dropped to his waist, his fingers hovering above his blade’s hilt. Before he could draw, the injured monster and the bug creature both vanished. Pixels floated from where the Shambler perished, rising through a hole in the roof, past its brethren. Shortly after, the traveling Shambler returned to its swarm. Alongside it were others—a dozen, at least—all famished and eager to feast. Some met with those early to arrive at the top of the house. The rest watched from below, crawling disgustingly around the walls, staring in through sealed windows. The man left the bedr

The man was left crouching behind toppled crates. Visible amounts of dust hung in the air, and he swatted at it between heavy coughs. He stumbled through it, making his way through the attic, back to the staircase. Descending the tower was worse than climbing it. He was slow, and chose his steps wisely. Without anything to light his path, each stair was as dangerous as the Shamblers that watched. They kept their distance, afraid of where Astragalus Anathema may have gone. The insect-headed beings knew that they were not being hunted, but feared that in the blink of an eye, that could chan

Behind his desk, Morningstar tinkered with a toy boar. Uncovering its traits was simple enough. Repairing its broken pieces was more complicated. The gears inside were old and wouldn't turn correctly, its hind legs were missing, and the paint job needed redoing. He was almost starting from scratch. Like a surgeon performing an operation, he slaved over his work station, pining at the pieces of boar spread across the table. This work had become a hobby to him, and the time he spent doing it grew shorter and shorter every day. Guild duties had overtaken it, as well as raid preparation. His sched

why thank you ms takes: x11 imperial quarter blend | TIERLESS PERFECT POTION | DAMAGE III Smoke and gunpowder, with lingering scents of exotic jasmine and bergamot. Razwell himself would enjoy this blend.

12.26.2024 ids