Acanthus

Acanthus had hoped to impress the crowd a little longer, but she needed to save some effort for the final fight. Health aside, her stamina was beginning to wane. The boxer, a figment of Cardinal's imagination, had no such restrictions. It continued its assault against Acanthus, who weathered the blows as best she could. But her luck was giving out, and the crowd knew it. They were now cheering for this nameless nobody. It infuriated her. Botan lay in the dirt just a few meters behind her. Turning entirely would expose her to a potentially quest-ending rain of blows. But more importantly,

Without a sound, the boxer ducked into range, elbows tight and high. He jabbed fast, aiming for the head. Acanthus pivoted back, raising her forearms to block the flurry. Her body tingled as the pain indicators sounded their pathetic alarms. The rock had hurt more than this. The boxer continued his assault, throwing some lower shots into the mix. Acanthus' armor made it harder to move, but also blocked the brunt of the boxer's beating. As he wound up for a low hook, Acanthus seized the moment. Palm out, she wrapped her arm around the boxer's outstretched hand, struck his chest twice, and

Her second opponent stepped spritely into the ring. He was much more compact that the broad-chested trident user, sporting only a loincloth and an ungainly helmet to hide the important bits. Acanthus initially thought he had been sent out into the ring weaponless, until she saw the leather straps wrapped around his hands. A boxing match, then. With a theatrical shrug, she tossed botan aside, and the crowd gasped as it tumbled in the dirt. Breathe. In, and out. Acanthus swung her leg back and bent her knees, adopting the solid footwork imparted by the master on floor two. The boxer's

There was a reason for all of this, she repeated to herself. After talking with Baldur and some of the other veterans, she realized there was a kind of experience did not have: the experience of fighting other players. It was foolish of her to assume that her toughest opponents would always be monsters, or beasts, or other nonhumans. Bandits and low-level mobs didn't count: they could be dispatched in a swipe or two. But should a floor boss—or even another player—ever try to kill her, she would have little experience to defend herself with. A grasp of the sword arts and game mechanics would no

In an opening that lasted only a fraction of a second, Acanthus cut through the gladiator's torso in two brutal strikes, causing him to vanish before the thud of his body on the floor could satisfy the crowd. They cheered for her anyways. Acanthus buried the tip of botan in the sandy ground. It was a careless way to treat the gift, but the audience loved a careless spirit. Feigning a wipe of her brow, Acanthus looked around the empty arena floor. "Was that it? I'm not even warmed up. Tell them to send me another!" Acanthus wondered if there were any real players in the stands, watc

How is that not clear? I killed her. Over and over again, I killed her, until the only thing left was the part of me able to clear the game. The gladiator stood weakly, gripping his trident. His face remained hidden, but his stance told her everything; he had already given up. It's not my fault that whatever remains enjoys this. She stood back, preparing to kill the man with a move that would appease the crowd for sure. A deep vermillion warmth radiated along the blade, pouring from the tip of her sword. Rose petals rose and fell on an invisible breeze, and the cheers of the

"Are you done watching this man fight for his life?!" She barely had to raise her voice; the acoustics of the coliseum and the game itself carried her voice. Her eager fans could barely contain themselves. So what if they were all NPCs? They loved her. "I hope you aren't, because I'm not done making him work for it." The gladiator raised his weapon to strike, but she tore the trident from his hands. With a flourish, she lifted the weapon above her head and brought the butt down on the man's jaw. The crack of his bones barely sounded above the raucous crowd. He collapsed into the dirt. Ac

The more Acanthus delved into the system, the more fascinated she grew with it. What she had initially perceived as cascading series of binary finality was really something more lifelike. Cardinal could be cajoled. It could be imposed upon, pleaded with, even argued with. She noticed it most in the sword arts. To a novice, the arts were rigid, mandatory paths that created Cardinal-sanctioned combos. A player comfortable with those combos could mold them: hold a stance for a second too long, or twist a stab into a slash. By the time her sword stopped glowing, Acanthus could change the art into

The crowd waited for Acanthus to make her next move. All eyes were on her. Their chests rose and fell with one collective soul, breathless with anticipation. And I am ready to give them the show they deserve. "Iuguoli te salutamus!" She bellowed to the crowd. She was disappointed that she didn't recall much from her brief dive into Latin. "Iuguolo" wasn't the root word she was looking for, but it was the only one that had come to mind. It was like a bomb had gone off. The stands erupted in a cacophony that shook the stones beneath her feet. With a single phrase, Acanthus had moved f

What had she despised about fighting in the first place? It was everything she loved. Fighting shunned the social niceties she struggled to navigate. Acanthus had ignored the gladiator's salute, and the crowd didn't care. She didn't care! All this time she thought she would never be able to get out of her own head, but it turned out she just needed a way to escape. And combat was the perfect avenue. It was a simple, primal thing that turned off the most debilitating parts of her hesitance. But it didn't turn everything off. To the contrary, fighting was far from thoughtless. A good fighter was

The crowd had already forgotten her earlier transgression, and was now fully on her side. They screamed for the death of the last two men. No, not death. I'm real, they aren't. Her blade cut clean through the first man's temple. I'm real. They aren't. They last man vanished in a gasp of pain as she pulled her sword slowly through his torso. She stood victorious and untouched. Someone did, at least. A girl that looked strikingly like Acanthus, talked like her, and thought like her. Almost like her, that is. But it was someone else. Acanthus wasn't capable of this, after all. Whoever it was

Acanthus prowled the edges of the arena, waiting for the iron bars to raise one more time. The last round of beast tamers barely had a moment in the light before Acanthus was on them. She pounced, ripping the spear away from one who had not even raised his weapon, eyes bulging in surprise. She impaled the disarmed man, tore the spear from his gut and hurled it at the second. He faltered while dodging the haphazard spear, reeling while Acanthus closed the distance. In three large steps, she was inside his reach, smiling joylessly as botan sliced him apart. The people around her roared in a

"Look at her go! She doesn't give a damn—" "Killed 'em right during the salute! I love a good bad guy—" "Ugh, woke games featuring unattractive females—" Okay, so the crowd wasn't totally won over. But her display of power had shifted something in the stands. And as much as she despised her feelings, she enjoyed it. Maybe she could tolerate the attention for now. Four more bestiarii entered the coliseum. They did not make the mistake their predecessors did. Forsaking the crowd, they proceeded immediately to an offensive formation, keeping Acanthus on her back foot. Patientl

The bestiarii surrounded her with spears, trying to keep their opponent at bay. Acanthus stalked their makeshift confine, testing its limits with swipes from botan. When one swipe knocked the spear just far enough away, she seized on the moment. Like a flash, she vanished from the center of the circle, cutting down one of the gladiators. More boos from the crowd. That's fine. I'm real. They aren't. The two remaining gladiators now took the offensive in tandem. But at half strength, they proved weak. Even with the benefit of range, Acanthus batted away their stabs. They were strong togethe

Just when she started to ignore all the voices, the gates at the far end of the area screeched open. Out into the light stepped four lithe, nameless figures. They wore light leather armor that covered their lower half, but left their well-muscled chests bare (and oiled) to the crowd. It seemed like a foolish oversight, but the crowd seemed to love it. Acanthus drew botan and began to walk towards the enemy. It was time to begin. Or so she thought. The four men drew their spears and faced outward towards the crowd, ignoring Acanthus. Uncertain, she held position, waiting for whatever secr

The iron bars in front of her shuddered and groaned. Acanthus shot out of her seat, thankful for the quest to move forward. Ducking through the rough stone gate, the gladiatrix stepped into the light to the sheers of the crowd. Acanthus blinked as her eyes adjusted. She was in the coliseum on Floor 24. She had heard the commotion from her shop, but she had never been so close. She was now part of the storm wall fueled by bloodlust and violence. The stands may have been populated by NPCs, but she could pick out individual voices. "Fuck them up, girl! I want to see some blood." "A

Link to Quest On a bench in the dark, Acanthus bounced her leg restlessly. Trickles of sun inched through the bars, teasing her with their warm rays. The swordswoman ignored the light, head bowed in thought as the clamor of the coliseum rose. The bars reminded her of time in the bandit's keep, and someone else's memories flashed in her mind's eye. A scared girl had fallen into the bandit trap looking for a scared NPC, and the two of them fought their way out of the enemy's stronghold. Or rather, one of them had. Acanthus had torn through the men like they were paper figures. It was the fi

[Initiative 240654: LD 1] On a bench in the trees, Acanthus bounced her leg restlessly. A different fight in a different arena, but the same warm beams inching towards her, begging her to believe in the game that surrounded her. It hadn’t worked the first time, and it was not working now. She had hoped that the quest in the arena would help her sort out her thoughts. If I kill enough things that look human, I can get used to it, right? But the mantra that had soothed her before held no sway. I'm real, they aren't. Except this time, her opponents were real. They had names and lives, h

Request @Wulfrin Fractured Heart | Shield | 236206c | Paralyze | Regen | Holy Blessing A shining kite shield resembling half a heart. Despite its sturdiness, the wearer feels every hit. Fractured Heart | Shield | 235657a | Regen | Holy Blessing | Flame Aura A shining kite shield resembling half a heart. Despite its sturdiness, the wearer feels every hit. Fuse to Create: Fractured Heart | Shield | FUSEID | Holy Blessing 2 | Flame Aura A shining kite shield resembling half a heart. Despite its sturdiness, the wearer feels every hit. Payment. 1 Gleaming scale se

“I see.” Silence hung heavy in the air. The women made their way back to the Town of Beginnings. Acanthus tried to move on from the conversation gracefully, but she had taken the wind out of her own sails with such a heady topic. And with such a new friendship as well. Morrígan had tactfully kept up with Acanthus’ attempts at conversation, but she couldn’t help but feel that she had soured the mood by asking a question that had no answer. Acanthus realized that she had led the pair back to the respawn area on the first floor. Or what should have been the respawn area. The etched obsi

Acanthus slapped her forehead. “Right. Dogs have plenty of jobs in the real world. I was too locked in on bears for whatever reason.” Kumaki waddled up beside her. “The thought of Kumaki assisting law enforcement or the army is… interesting. But she’s such a gentle soul, I really can’t imagine her doing much hunting or attacking. And I would feel terrible putting her in harm's way. I’m not sure what happens if a familiar’s health drops to zero. I would hope that they simply retreat for some amount of time.” Her paced slowed, and she looked up at the floating castle that served as her prison. “

“I’m back. Hold off on your other identifications for a little bit. I have something urgent for you.” She waved off Eulogy’s indignant cries. “Yes, I know about Pinball. I told him about you. It’s not like you have any other work on your plate, right? You have to level up somehow. Not to mention you may need to take some time off to go through the Challenge of Olympus. I could take some time off dungeoneering to drop by and help you out. But the quest tends to be very personalized so I wouldn’t be a lot of help.” “Anyways,” she said casually, “I have some unidentified shields I need from

Skill(s) Being Dropped: Hiding R5, Parry Mod(s)/Addon(s)/Shift(s) Being Dropped: Justified Riposte SP Incurred Towards Limit: 45/50 SP Refunded: 45 Cost: 45,000 col

“A false, digital reality…” Acanthus echoed the words back to her companion. For a moment, she had forgotten where she was. Despite the absurd premise of her current adventure—teaching a bear to sing?—she had lapsed into belief for a moment. She deflated as memories of her real life trickled back to her. Morrígan interrupted her thoughts with soothing words. “Thank you.” Blood rushed to her cheeks. She was uncomfortable with abject kindness, certain that it would sour eventually. But in the moment, she was grateful. “I will take you at your word. But I do hope it will not take muc

Acanthus listened along as Morrígan told stories about Phantom, as if letting her in on a secret. She was a gifted storyteller, and Acanthus couldn’t help but nod and grin as Morrígan described Phantom’s habits. The puffing chest, the splayed wings… Acanthus couldn’t help but picture the bird spying out the window with a humanlike curiosity. “That sounds fun to watch. I’m sure she sees the most interesting things. If only Phantom could talk. I wonder what she would say.” Morrígan glanced up, her fingers gesturing towards the raven, who appeared to be locked in on an area. Acanthus’s