[PP-F05] A Walk in the Desert <<The Traveler>>

[Mishiro 0]

  

a corpse is talking.

Spoiler // hey man how's it going. STATS: Spoiler LEVEL 21: HP 420 | EN 60 | DMG 19 | ACC 4 | AA | FLN 6 (6-8) | VO 10% WEAPON: RAPIER V + STAMINA + PRECISION + FEROCITY + ST SPECIALIST -- COMBAT MASTERY: DAMAGE III EXTRA 1 + 2: FIRST AID V + ADD-ON: FIELD MEDIC (total sp: 105 | used: 99 / unused: 6) EQUIPMENT: walpurgisnacht T3E4 WEAPON (RAPIER). CURSED, FALLEN, VAMPIRIC (OFFENSIVE), ABSOLUTE ACCURACY dioscuri T1E3 JEWELRY. ACCURACY III

sometimes sword art online rewrites the rules of its own reality and jolts them all with a cruel reminder. that everything in this world they have been living in for the past decade is just data. fallible. somewhere in a place far out of their reach, a governing entity decides upon these changes according to a purpose none of them have been able to discern.

and this is not peace. this is not bliss. she does not know how she could have believed otherwise. mishiro had awoken to a sky yet untouched by the sun and the flashing indicator of a system update @12am JST at the top of her notifications, and now she's pacing, barefoot and unsettled by her thoughts, up and down the cold halls of the castle, an ornamental rapier once gifted to her by sibyl in her right hand.

she tests the weapon's weight. the feel of its grip. tries to picture sinking it deep into an opponent's flesh. a rapier's damage is often concentrated on a single point, unlike the flexibility of martial arts that she so favored. but a wrongness had haunted her ever since lyudochka, a bone-deep uncertainty that she couldn't dislodge whenever she put on her gauntlets.

(does this make it any better?

–walpurgisnacht is shaped like a violin; light, graceful, and swift; the sword sings, and under its spell, all of its strikes land true. some spend years looking for such blades. she may never need another.

it does(n’t) (matter).

she can count on her fingers the number of times she has properly interacted with the combat system for the past four years. what have you been doing? what have you been doing? stuck in the orbit of a man guilty beyond reasonable doubt of three murders.)

a few steps behind her, a door swings open.

just as she had practiced the art of moving so quietly in the early mornings that the light sleep of her companion goes undisturbed, so had she (not by her intention, not to her knowledge) unlearned some of the restraint that she normally displayed around others. at the sound of the door, mishiro visibly goes rigid. she turns, just barely enough to place him at the corner of her eye, and a long silence passes where she doesn't speak, working her way through the sudden guilt clogging her throat to say, in a soft voice, "good morning? sorry for waking you."

the blue of the morning floods into the hallway. in this light, everything appears breakable.

Edited August 27 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

Her company was undeserved. 

He wasn't an idiot -- he knew that. He was reminded of it every single day. It was twisted. It was unfair. But he couldn't ask her to leave. He didn't want to. He'd never asked her to stay, but she'd never left, either. And maybe it was sick, or demented, or whatever other choice adjectives had been used to describe him before, but the fact of the matter remained: he wanted her around. 

Pinball opened the door. 

"Good morning." She apologized for waking him. He shook his head. "No, I've been up for a bit. Here." 

He handed her a cup of hot tea. He took a seat at a table that was littered with loose parchment and leather-bound tomes with his own. The lanterns were unlit, but it was twilight hours, and there was a high glass window that cast the room in hues of pale blue. It was cold in the dark stone halls of Green Garden. It warmed up in the afternoon, but they wouldn't be here then. 

Pinball was dressed for travel. A warm black cloak was wrapped around his shoulders, and he was wearing his boots. 

He blew on his tea, then took a sip and set it down. "Long day ahead of us. Are you ready?" 

                                                                                           

Player Stats: 

Spoiler

Level: 33 (Paragon Level 38)
Health: 800 | Energy: 118
DMG: 20  | ACC: 4  | EVA: 3  | BH: 44
Shift: Tech

Skills:

Combat Skills:
► Battle Healing [30/30]
► Energist [8/8]
► Combat Mastery: Damage [13/13]

Weapon Skills:
► Thrown Weapons [30/30] 

       Add Ons: 
► Precision 
► Focus 
► Stamina 

Utility Skills:
► Quick Change [8/8] 

Extra Skills:
► Disguise
► Survival
► Hiding [30/30]

Familiar Skill: 
► Rending Familiar [10/10]

Armor Skills:
►N/A

Modifiers:
► Sneak Attack: Trickster 
► Vanish 
► Emergency Recovery
► Untraceable

Miscellaneous: 
► +1 LD to Searching, Lockpicking, Treasure Chests (Paragon) 
► Earn Col Equivalent to 15% of player’s EXP earned in a thread (Paragon) 

Inventory:
»[Equipped] [Demonic] Cold Fervor: +2 Freeze, Phase, Cursed 
»[Equipped] [Perfect] Warrior’s Focus: +3 ACC
»[Equipped] [Perfect] Dragon Skin: +3 EVA 

Battle Ready: 
» [2x] Teleportation Crystal 
» [x4] Lacrimosa - HP Recovery III Crystal {Instant}
» [Demonic TW] Hellfire: Burn, Bleed, Blight, Cursed
» [Demonic TW] Astral Blade: Holy, Fallen, Phase, Damage

Housing Buffs: 

Spoiler

Housing Buffs: 
Squeaky Clean: The first time you would suffer DoT damage in a thread, reduce damage taken from DoT each turn by 25% (rounded down)
Well Rested: -1 energy cost for the first three expenditures of each combat
Filling: Increase the effectiveness of a single food item consumed in a thread by +1 T1 slot. This can exceed normal Cook enhancement caps. Ex: A perfect T2 MIT food gives 35 MIT instead of 30.
Relaxed: Increases out of combatHP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts.
Item Stash: +1 BR Slot 

 

Edited August 12 by Pinball

[Mishiro 0]

at first, it is as though she hadn't even heard him. the silence returns, and it wraps around her, a heavy, tangible thing, the hum of the ornamental rapier sliding back into its sheath muted even amidst echoing stone walls. "here," pinball speaks again, and the expectation in his voice compels her to finally turn and meet him face to face.

he's fully armored, if one could call it that. her eyes wander from the clasp of his tall black cloak to the pair of identical teacups he's holding in each hand. the sight of it warms her a little and she accepts the one that he passes to her.

mishiro trails after him, but only a few steps further. that he's up so early in the morning must mean that his next excursion is far from standard fare. the anticipation of it draws his body into a languid line, one ankle crossed over the other knee, as he drinks from his cup. she feels exposed, in comparison, still standing in the middle of the hallway and in her nightdress. mishiro sets down her cup at her corner of the table, letting it cool for a moment. sometimes she asks. she doesn't always like the answers.

“long day ahead of us.”

us…?

“are you ready?”

the confusion shows on her face. ready for what? no distraction can ever make her forget these things. at a loss, she opens her menu, which immediately brings her to a bookmarked folder in her inventory titled today's date and a list of handpicked buffs, enough vanity food and water items to last them a day in the desert, and... a duplicated copy of a notepad she and pinball had passed back and forth as they plotted out a three-quest route. last updated: yesterday.

mishiro doesn't really remember what she had done yesterday. but it's right in front of her now and she wants nothing less than to continue to idle in her own thoughts. "everything is good to go," she confirms, closing the tab. "but..."

she looks down at walpurgisnacht, the half shaped in the semblance of a violin, and the other half that actually slides into its specialized sheath. how to put this into words when she couldn't even understand it herself? she had been practicing martial arts years before sao. she does not intend to use it again. she wars between different explanations in her head, but failing that, she leaves it all unsaid and keeps to what she knows. "just one thing. i switched martial arts for a rapier. the stats are identical, but we might have to adjust the way we fight together. our plan allows us a lot of extra time for each quest, so we could practice combat again before the hardest one."

cobbled together. but doable. she picks up her cup, feels out the temperature, and finally takes a sip.

it tastes bitter.

"sorry," she says again, fainter. "i should have waited."

Edited August 27 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

He had noticed the rapier at her hip. The slender sword had a curious design, but he didn't doubt its functionality. The decision to switch out of martial arts did surprise him though. Not that he was torn up about it either way -- it was her decision when it came down to it, and he was hardly the type of person to judge. He nodded. 

"Sounds good to me." He drank deeply from his cup and then stood, leaving what was left behind. "I'll let you get dressed. I'll be outside when you're ready." 

He'd start for the exit, looking forward to the sunrise and fresh morning dew. Before he left, she apologized again, this time softer. Without even realizing it, Pinball's face softened. He smiled. 

"Don't be silly. It's not a problem. We'll adjust."

The smile faded as quickly as it had come, reflexively, as if his body had remembered his face wasn't supposed to do that anymore.

"I'll be waiting outside. Take your time." 

Edited August 13 by Pinball

[Mishiro 0]

she listens to his steps fade into the distance as she polishes off her tea. she doesn't like leaving food (or drink) unfinished, even if it is bitter, even if the spoonfuls of honey that he added had settled at the bottom of the cup from her waiting and turned the last few sips nauseatingly sweet. he had made it for her. isn't it only fair to pay it back?

before she returns to her room to prepare, she gathers both cups and deposits them into her inventory. any leftovers will eventually dissolve, given enough time.

 

 

the heavy wooden door slides shut.

the sky is still dim, the grass wet with dew. mishiro immediately finds pinball at the shaded area of the courtyard and takes him by the arm. she's changed into the breezy laced dress she prefers to wear into battle and a white cloak is folded over her arm. "i'll say the address," she says without preamble -- so get ready to enter stealth as soon as i do. -- and from her pair of teleport crystals, she presses one into pinball's hand.

doesn't let go until she's shattered both.

"teleport: fortaleza."

a sensation of weightlessness, their surroundings wiped clean as a slate. she feels the change in the air before floor 5 is even finished loading in, and by the time she opens her eyes, blinking to relieve her momentary dizziness, pinball had already departed, slipping into the shadows of ramshackle buildings. mishiro tries, as always, to scrutinize her surroundings, to parse out, if perhaps there is any difference in the way the light hits certain areas, as if through their closeness alone, she could see past the veil cast over him. she doesn't find anything out of place.

she doesn't look any further and simply heads in the opposite direction. the intent is to finish this before the sun hits its peak and turns the temperature into scorching. they're trying to expedite the more troublesome parts of the process. luckily: the desert starts counting damage in the early hours of morning. and another point in her favor: there is the bearded npc before she even makes it halfway out of the center of the town -- on its way to one of the roads near the southern gate.

@PIN

MSH: >>
MSH: has shared her current location.

Edited August 16 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

He was familiar with this routine. She exited the castle and took him by the arm, and pressed a pair of teleport crystals into his hands. He closed his eyes. Let the darkness, and then the weightlessness, envelop him. By the time he opened him, he was gone. The feeling of her hand in his own was still fresh in his memory as he slipped between houses, his dark hood pulled low over his face. There were a couple different locations the old man could spawn -- Pinball had been sure to gather information on each, and they'd split the responsibility of seeking him out methodically. 

Pinball hardly had time to look before he got the message: 

@PIN

MSH: >>
MSH: has shared her current location.

He was quick about turning around. Meanwhile, the old man locked eyes with Mishiro and his whole demeaner seemed to shift. "O-oh! Young lady! Excuse me, young lady!

"I am terribly sorry to bother you, but I need help. I-" A violent coughing fit seemed to rack his frail body. After the attack subsided and he took a few shaky, steadying breaths, he continued. "I have a treasure chest of sorts, buried in the desert, at the base of some uniquely shaped rocks. The contents are incredibly important to me, but I am too ill to make the journey alone. Would you escort me there? Though I cannot offer you much col.  But, should you offer your assistance, I would be eternally grateful."

It was at that point, Pinball exited stealth. He seemed to simply phase into existence behind him, where he loomed over the sickly, hunched old man like his grim reaper had come to collect. "Yes," Pinball said curtly. He didn't exactly have a whole lot of time to waste when he was plainly visible within city walls. "We will assist you. Come." 

The old man nearly jumped out of his skin. Pinball wondered briefly if NPCs could have heart attacks -- no, that would be ridiculous. The NPC looked hesitant around Pinball, trembling, a combination of his orange cursor and sudden appearance giving him pause. Zamek, the old man, would then look to Mishiro for reassurance. He was confused, startled, and probably on the verge of another coughing fit. 

Pinball's brow furrowed. "Come," he insisted. 

[Mishiro 0]

at least the girl looks harmless, something in the intelligence driving this npc must have decided. it looks to her after receiving the fright of its life and, miraculously, it isn't excusing itself yet.

it is driven by urgency. sands trickling down to the bottom half of the hourglass. who knows if another willing adventurer would soon pass this road?

she has no sympathy for these creatures, but if pinball's sudden appearance had barely provoked a change in her expression, this wouldn't either. "we happen to be leaving town as well," mishiro amends, "for a simple gathering expedition. if you don't mind a few stops along the way, we can escort you to where you need to go."

it wavers with indecision, looking from her, to pinball, then giving a jolt of fright when he so much as turns his eyes its way, then back to mishiro, quietly awaiting its answer. "i thank you for your kindness, young lady," the old man, still, has a stammer to its voice, but it is less poised to run, or keel over and faint -- and it had relaxed slightly at her measured tone, enough that it falls into another fit, letting out the deep and dry coughs that had been building up in its lungs.

she approaches pinball, notably the space between him and the old man. when the old man recovers its breath, it speaks again; and its nervousness of pinball is blatant in the way that its head lowers to address mishiro exclusively. "i am zamek. and are you and this man...?"

"he's my partner."

mishiro hits the [accept quest] button as soon as the window appears.

"let's go -- before the sun rises."

 

 

the [sandstorm] effect appears as a status condition as soon as they step out of the gates. this close to the main settlement, the wind isn't as strong, but she feels a slight sting where the sand hits her, and she quickly unfolds her cloak and secures it over her shoulders, pulling the hood over her head. pinball rejoins them, and zamek, peering out at the distance, points them in a general direction and starts their trek, coughing all the while.

mishiro lingers for a long moment, adjusting her cloak. and without another word, she follows.

 

> sandstorm: 226281: CD 10

Edited August 27 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

Once outside of the gates, Pinball didn't feel nearly as pressured. He nearly instantly felt more relaxed. Not only were player onlookers a worry, he really didn't appreciate getting thrown out of the city by guards. It was almost never fun. Zamek had looked to Mishiro for reassurance, and he'd found it -- kind of. Regardless of how the NPC may have felt about it, they'd accepted the quest, and made their way into the desert as a group. 

Pinball was already hooded, but he waited patiently for Mishiro to adjust hers. He remained quiet. So did Zamek. There didn't seem to be much trust between them, but the quest had been started regardless. That was good. He just wished that the man could walk a little faster. He shuffled along across the dunes, pulling his tattered cloak tightly across his chest. Every so often he would stop, seized by a coughing fit or the echoes of one. Pinball walked, matching pace with Mishiro, unbothered by the sandstorm raging around him. He'd completed this quest years ago, with people whose faces he found hard to remember... 

He didn't say anything. He didn't have anything to say. His eyes were on the horizon, the storm, and the golden dunes that stretched out endlessly beyond them. 

<<SURVIVAL ACTIVE>> 

Edited August 15 by Pinball

[Mishiro 0]

they pass the skeletons of structures once stood in the lands surrounding the settlement, now destroyed by sand.

zamek doggedly walks on, battered, yet untoppled by the intensifying winds, the ends of its cloak flapping like a banner. it walks at half the speed of an ordinary person, and mishiro learns to dread every ascent along the dunes, where its pace slows to a crawl and they have to trudge along one step at a time. if they let it out of their sight for too long, zamek will simply vanish and cardinal will materialize another copy of it -- all the way back in fortaleza.

they do keep to their premise of gathering, but mishiro's searches turn up empty. she's weary after a mere two hours and determined not to fail. the sun had risen at some point during their walk, and she feels the ghost of a headache from the combination of the sand, the hot air, and the strain in her eyes from watching their surroundings for danger. they're breaking for water at the base of a hill, their backs momentarily shielded from the wind, when mishiro, handing pinball a canteen from her inventory, looks him over thoughtfully. 

"one of us should be taking point," she gently reminds. they'd seen small clusters of mobs on the way and none of them were hostile if left unbothered. that isn't always the case. "and you're used to scouting, even without the skill points. i can hold my own here if anything happens -- you know what my build does."

 

-> sandstorm: 226473: CD 2
-> gathering: 226474: LD 9

Edited August 27 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

They stopped for water at a well. It was a wonder it hadn't dried out. Sweat beaded his face as he accepted the canister. He was faring a bit better than the other two, thanks to his Survival skill... but just because he wasn't going to collapse of dehydration or get ripped apart by sand didn't mean the heat didn't absolutely suck. He took a small sip from the canister for courtesy's sake before passing it back to Mishiro. Zamek, it seemed, had his own water, and drank it silently by himself. 

Mishiro told him he should take point. He nodded. "Right." They'd spotted plenty of mobs on their journey, but they had kept their distance and continued their journey uninterrupted because of it. She was right, though. It was better to be safe than sorry. As they readied themselves to set out again, Pinball would hurry ahead. It was about time he made good on his word and did a little gathering himself, anyway.

He bounded up the sandy slopes like a dark streak across a golden canvas. Armored worms, twice the size of him with mandibles to match erupted from the earth and swam across the dessert like eels chasing him. He danced atop hills of sand, dodging the knife-like maws of the worms, grouping them up, waiting for his moment, getting closer, waiting for his moment... 

And there it was. All at once, the worms collided into each other -- into where Pinball had been but was no longer. The hooded assassin had leapt into the air, raining a hailstorm of daggers down on them. There was a rush of cool air as his blades found their homes in the bodies of the monsters below him. His cloak whipped in the wind as he descended. The worms were a jumbled mess, a veritable pastabowl of legs, chitin, and mandibles. Half of them were stunned, their movements slowed and disoriented. The other half was completely immobile, their bodies encased in a thin but deceptively strong layer of ice. 

Pinball landed and slid swiftly down a dune. He wasn't yet in position for a follow-up attack. His eyes flicked to Mishiro. 

"Your turn." 

*** 

Action Taken: {Well Rested} [TECH-F] [-13 EN] 
Worm 1: ID#226681 BD: 10 - 22*12= 264 DMG + FREEZE 
Worm 2: ID#226682 BD: 3+4= 7 - 20*12= 240 DMG 
Worm 3: ID#226683 BD: 6 - 20*12 = 240 DMG 
Worm 4: ID#226684 BD: 8 - 20*12= 240 DMG + FREEZE 

[H:2,1,1,1] Pinball | HP: 800/800 | EN: 105/118 | DMG: 20 | ACC:4 | EVA:3 | BH:44 | LD:5 | FRZ 8-10 | Phase 
[H:0,0,0,0] Mishiro | HP: 420/420 | EN: 60/60 | DMG 19 | ACC 4 | ABS. ACC | FLN 6 (6-8) | VO 10%

Worm 1:  132/396 HP | 132 DMG {Stunned} [FRZN] 
Worm 2:  156/396 HP | 132 DMG {Stunned} 
Worm 3:  156/396 HP | 132 DMG {Stunned}  
Worm 4:  156/396 HP | 132 DMG {Stunned} [FRZN] 

Edited August 17 by Pinball

[Mishiro 0]

"stay back," mishiro tells zamek, who nods frantically in understanding, its eyes wide.

she's leaving it behind. it won't come to any harm as long as they kill the sandworms fast enough.

by the time pinball vanishes, she's already racing forward to assist. she unsheathes her blade, resists the instinct to sharpen her eyes against the dust kicked up into the air by the skirmish as the sandworms collapse into a massive writhing mass of tangled bodies and snapping jaws, each thrashing about in search of their prey. he can handle it. he does. daggers rain down from the air, nailing the monstrosities to the ground before any of them could wriggle out of position. to him, it's merely routine. to her, she feels the telltale skip in her heartbeat before it begins to pound and she takes in a long, deep breath through parted lips.

"i've got it."

the system recognizes her stance. with its control, it's no issue closing the remaining distance and piercing through a frozen sandworm's armor. the shell of ice bursts, triggering a companion explosion in its pair. trapped and stunned in between, the other two can do nothing more than twitch as they are caught in the blast.

the top of the dune becomes glittering intangible dust and lingering cold air. bits and pieces of the mobs' remnant data are blown swiftly away by the harsh winds. mishiro straightens and sheathes her blade, the motion silent despite its design. atop her left hand hovers a spinning feather-light crystal -- spoils from the battle.

 

-> sandstorm: 226911: CD 11
-> combat: aoe-i vs worms 1-4.
-> looting: *

Spoiler

ACTION: AOE-I vs Worms 1-4 [17 EN]
226912: BD 4 + 4 + 1 + 1 = 9: 19 * 11 = 209 DMG + 64 FRZ -> Worm 1
226913: BD 1 + 4 + 1 = 6: 19 * 11 = 209 DMG -> Worm 2
226914: BD 10: (19 + 2) * 11 = 231 DMG -> Worm 3
226915: BD 5 + 4 + 1 + 1 = 10: 19 * 11 = 209 DMG  + 64 FRZ -> Worm 4

Pinball | HP: 800/800 | EN: 105/118 | DMG: 20 | ACC:4 | EVA:3 | BH:44 | LD:5 | FRZ 8-10 | Phase 
Mishiro | HP: 420/420 | EN: 42/60 | DMG 19 | ACC 4 | AA | FLN 6 (6-8) | VO 10%

Worm 1:  0/396 HP | 132 DMG
Worm 2:  0/396 HP | 132 DMG
Worm 3:  0/396 HP | 132 DMG
Worm 4:  0/396 HP | 132 DMG

--

LOOTING: Worms 1-4
226916: LD 3: CD 11: 396 * 3 = 1,188 Col + 4 Materials
226917: LD 12: CD 2: 396 * (3 + 2 + 2) = 2,772 Col + T4 Rare Trinket
226918: LD 12: CD 10: 396 * (3 + 2 + 2 + 2) = 3,564 Col + T4 Rare Armor/Shield
226919: LD 19: CD 9: 396 * (3 + 4) = 2,772 Col + 4 Materials + T4 Perfect Weapon

CURRENT TOTAL:

Quote

• 10,296 Col
• 8 Materials
• T4 Perfect Weapon [ID:226919]
• T4 Rare Armor/Shield [ID:226918]
• T4 Rare Trinket [ID: 226917]

 

 

Edited August 22 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

Pinball watched from the bottom of the dune as Mishiro finished mopping up the mess he'd made. 

He was impressed. He didn't get to fight with her often. Certainly not with a rapier. Pinball opened his mouth to speak, but before he could make a sound, the deep, reverberating hum of a horn gave him pause.

Figures on all sides emerged from the sands. They were humans, dressed in light browns and tans, wielding an assortment of weaponry: spears, bows, curved blades, and knives. They were a ragtag group of bandits, for sure. But each and every one of them had a cruel look in their eyes. The one who'd sounded the horn was a tall, muscular man, whose sleeves were cut off at the shoulders. His skin was dark and his voice was strong. 

"My friends, my name is Ahsan Kazi," he declared, "and you have made a grave mistake. You have entered the territory of the Desert Bloom, and we shall see you relinquished of your valuables." 

Atop the dune, Mishiro stood alone -- but two bandits were approaching her, their spears raised. A third followed close behind with a weighted net. She wasn't surrounded like the other two, but that didn't by any means mean that they were about to let her go. Far from it. They spoke between themselves in an unrecognizable language. 

Pinball glanced over his shoulder at Zamek. They were encircled on all sides. The old man was white as a sheet. Pinball began to back up, trying to put himself into a better position to protect the shaking bastard. The bandits with bows drew them taut, aiming their weapons at the both of them. It was clear they had no intention of playing fair. Pinball clicked his tongue. What an annoying situation. He knew he could handle a group of bandits from the fifth floor. He wasn't sure if the same could be said about old Zamek. Where had they come from, anyway? It was as though they had just appeared out of thin air. Maybe they had. 

Ahsan spoke again. 

"Your clothes, your armor, your weapons, and your money," he said, his voice nearly as deep as the horn he had blown, "or it will be your lives that we take instead." 
 

[Mishiro 0]

none of those demands were addressed to her.

mishiro backs up a step, her hand frozen over her weapon's hilt. the sandstorm picks up speed, obscuring her view of her companions down below, and the desert dwellers, unfazed, jeer at her in a loud and harsh tongue as they advance. they jab the points of their weapons at mishiro, sending her skittering backwards as she snaps her rapier out of its sheath, but they don't press the attack. she doesn't, either. she's paralyzed by indecision and can seem to do no more than draw back in retreat.

a grave mistake. she runs out of level ground and her back foot sinks an inch lower than she had expected.

her heart is in her throat in the brief moment that she has to recenter herself. she doesn't even know if they had turned her onto the other side of the dune. the two bandits at the front take the opportunity to pounce.

she feels the first spear rip a long gash through her arm and the shock that reverberates throughout her senses jerk some of her combat instincts back into motion -- unfamiliar weapon or not -- and she shakily catches herself in a system-assisted stance that allows her to deflect the other spear that comes mere seconds later. before the sword art even dies down, she sees the drop in her hp.

 

-> sandstorm: 227641: CD 2

Edited August 26 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

Pinball exhaled. There was a moment where he hesitated, his brain working overtime trying to find the easiest solution out of this situation. 

Then Mishiro attacked, and that certainly narrowed down his options. 

He didn't hesitate this time. Pinball's knives went flying, nailing both archers in the head. They fell backwards from the impact, exploding into fractals before they hit the ground. Pinball replenished his blades. Ahsan blew his horn once more, calling for reinforcements. Zamek cowered in fear. Bandits charged across the dunes, weapons raised, shouting obscenities in a language Pinball didn't -- and would never -- know. And then they were on him. 

His mind went blank. His whole world devolved into slash, stab, throw, duck, step, dive, throw, slash, stab, parry, stab, stab, stab. A flurry of blades, a jumble of bodies. His heartbeat the only constant in this dance of violence. The give and take of combat was a thrilling thing, though he'd never admit it. He'd been here before. Countless times, against countless foes. These bandits from the fifth floor stood little chance. He was killing them faster than they could hurt him. Eventually the crowd thinned and he spotted Ahsan, scimitar drawn, charging towards him. Pinball exploded out from the group of bandits to meet him. He caught the leader's blade with a knife and twisted, hurling another at a robber coming up from behind with a spear. The weight of Ahsan's blade was too heavy to hold so he adjusted his weight, diverting the trajectory of the sword, and created more distance between them. There were a total of eleven bandits left. Seven surrounded him, including the leader Ahsan. 

The rest remained with Mishiro. 

[Mishiro 0]

in the distance, the horn sounds once again.

she forces another sword art. a mind connected to a body connected to a weapon feels the soft warning tap as it knocks against the absolute limit of its abilities. the wild, uncontrolled burst that comes out clears half the two bandits' hp and allows her to break away. lurking behind, the third begins to shout in a different tone.

heart racing, she skids further down the slope, the bandits following in hot pursuit. a single hit takes out a third of her hp. a third. they're scaling off of pinball and he isn't here to deal with them. she can't fight them while they're on higher ground and she isn't confident in her ability to outmaneuver them. she can't shake them off either. her only option is to bring them down with her and hit them hard. less than a few meters before the bottom, she tosses a glance over her shoulder and clears the rest of the distance with a swift leap, landing a ways into flat ground. the sand crunches beneath her shoes as she spins.

she catches a glimpse of the first spear that comes for her but the system has already acknowledged her stance. her rapier stabs through the soft flesh of its wielder's neck and the spear turns into shards before it can even reach her.

 

-> sandstorm: 227830: CD 8

Edited August 23 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

Grit teeth and a frown. The bandit chief grinned maniacally. Sweat dotted the brows of both. Pinball ducked beneath sword strikes and the spear thrusts. He exhaled. Ahsan's scimitar was thrust towards his chest. Pinball twisted and avoided it narrowly. He buried two knives in his chest and kicked him away as the other bandits attacked. There were a lot of them. He knew on their own he could handle each of them handily. In a smaller group, too, the fight would have already been over. But there were many more than what he was used to fighting and their attacks took decent chunks out of his healthbar and Mishiro -- Mishiro needed him to hurry. 

Duck, weave, counter. He spun around and danced within the group of them. A writhing mass of bodies. They attacked with wild abandon, all pretenses dropped. Pinball was cutting through them now. One, two. A bandit exploded into a cloud of light. Three, four. His daggers flew and buried themselves within the chest of another two. They, too, were defeated. Five, six. He parried the spear of one and killed the other, twisted the weapon out of the hands of the bandit he'd parried, and finished him by sweeping his legs out and sending a dagger to follow him as he fell. 

Then all that remained was Ahsan. The bandit leader opened his mouth to speak -- 

-- Pinball left him behind and rushed to Mishiro's aid. He darted up the dunes at a blistering pace, catapulted into the air, and rained daggers down on her attackers.  

[Mishiro 0]

the remaining two are furious. alone in the middle of a sandstorm, she had looked like an easy target but now their companion is dead. their attacks embolden. she tries to chain her sword art onto the second spear wielder, but against her expectations, the bandit doesn't care about taking a hit. she does. the blood in mishiro's veins turns into ice. another moment of indecision locks her into the system assist and directly into the weapon's path.

and then -- a dagger through its back. another takes out the third. pinball lands halfway down the dune and mishiro races up to meet him. "zamek," she gasps; she notices the absence of their third as soon as she draws close. if anything, she can't forget about why they were here in the first place. she shifts sibyl's rapier to her other hand and grabs pinball's arm, her grip tighter than she had intended, and she steers them back the way they came.

zamek is pale-faced, trembling, ahsan's scimitar against its throat. zamek is unscathed and ahsan is barely hanging onto a sliver of hp. a short distance away from them, the vague shape of a horn lies half-buried in the sand. they can barely see each other through the dust in the air.

mishiro drops pinball's arm.

"no sudden movements," the bandit chief's voice booms over the sound of the wind, "and do exactly as i say or your friend suffers the consequences."

she can't cross that distance. pinball can't throw his knives faster than it would take ahsan to kill zamek.

"you will drop your weapons and back away slowly--"

she has no sympathy for these creatures.

"--you will not stop walking until you reach the end of the desert bloom's territory--"

but they had already come so far.

"--and should you follow these conditions, i will release this man unharmed--"

if they let it out of their sight for too long, zamek will simply vanish and cardinal will materialize another copy of it -- all the way back in fortaleza.

"now, move."

if she were to back away now, she would be discouraged again and nothing would change. everything would slide back into stasis.

mishiro breathes out slowly. she takes her parrying dagger out of its sheath. she moves her hand further down her rapier's hilt to press down on its strings. raising her own sword to her neck is not a usual sign of aggression, but it is strange enough that ahsan digs his scimitar deeper into zamek's throat and yells. "you, over there! i said put down your--"

the flat of the smaller blade slides down the violin's strings, and a single clear note slices through the air.

ahsan's grip on zamek loosens. it falls backwards. its corpse hits the ground in two separate pieces.

all told, it would not have killed its captive unless they were pointing their swords at it themselves. it was outnumbered, outmatched. it was negotiating for its survival. it was not going to relinquish the only advantage it had.

ears ringing, mishiro lowers her dagger.

“i can't do that again. let’s get out of here."

 

-> sandstorm: 228350: CD 9

Edited August 26 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

Pinball didn't dwell on it. He nodded and led the way. Behind them, Zamek recovered. Though he was pale as a sheet and looked completely bewildered, the old man was wise enough to keep any comments to himself. He coughed, wheezed, and followed. It wasn't like he had much of a choice, now. 

There was a storm coming. 

They fled across the desert. Pinball had swapped his cloak for one longer, tattered. It bore the insignia of a forgotten guild. His eyes shone gold from beneath his hood. "There," he said. Ahead of them, the desert flattened; the sand gave way to stone. There was a shallow cave -- more of an overhang, really, one that would only barely protect them from the elements, but it would serve its purpose. They didn't have the time to be picky. 

- - - 

The sandstorm raged. Whipping winds carried flakes of sands across the desert at blistering speeds. The sand would fill your lungs, cut your skin like glass -- and though you would feel no pain, the harsh conditions would take a toll on your health total. Thanks to his skill, Pinball was safe, but Mishiro wouldn't find herself as lucky. Thankfully, they'd found shelter in time. Zamek hugged the wall, his cloak pulled tight around his skin. The sand did not help his condition. Aside from his frequent coughs and ragged breaths, which seemed to grow worse by the minute, he was silent. 

Pinball was quiet, too. He stood while Zamek sat, and examined the furthest wall of the cavern. There was a crack in the stone, maybe large enough to squeeze through if he really tried... 

But it led to nothing, and Pinball left it be. 

The storm had begun to die down, and it was time for them to finish their journey. 

*** 
Free Action: [Quick Change] - Black Cloak: +3 EVA -> Cloak of the Harbingers: +3 LD 
Action Taken: [Searching for Dungeon] 
ID#228538 LD: 2+8= 10 :( 

Edited August 27 by Pinball

[Mishiro 0]

all evidence of their skirmish, or that they had even been there at all, will soon be buried by the storm.

mishiro, pressing her back against the inmost wall of the cavern, lets herself slowly slide downwards until she hits the ground. she hasn't let go of sibyl's rapier since. hadn't returned it to its sheath when the battle was done, hadn't quite realized what she was doing until they found shelter at the overhang. so, she does it now, detaching the longer sheath from her belt and sliding the bladed half back in. she sets it down beside her, strings side up, her wrist delicately balancing atop its hilt, and she wraps her other arm around her legs as she draws them close to her chest.

she can't stop her fingers from trembling.

it's over already!

she digs her nails into the side of her thumb. she feels the bite of it but the system dampens all sensation of pain. for one, twisted moment, her psyche dwells for too much on that gap and nothing feels real.

she has to stop this.

"pin...?" the voice that escapes her is high-pitched, forlorn, so different from her restrained tone -- and she cuts herself off, surprised that she had even spoken at all. she doesn't stop watching the storm. a moment passes, and she finds her next words in a direction adjacent to her thoughts. "thanks for earlier. you're good at this... at fighting, i mean."

she hadn't witnessed most of it, but she had seen how badly he and zamek were surrounded before she was attacked. and yet, he had been the one to come to her aid.

"i feel safe with you around."

i wish i didn't need to.

 

 

they know they are nearing the destination when zamek starts to hobble faster. it gets a considerable distance away from mishiro, who had been matching its pace all this time, before she also speeds up or rather -- resumes walking normally, to her great relief.

"ah, here it is." it had called the rock formation unique, but with her lack of knowledge of things in the desert, she could not differentiate its appearance from the rest of the structures they had passed. beneath it is a patch of softer ground, which the npc drops down into, digging with its bare hands.

she doesn't offer her help. she merely regards the small wooden chest it uncovers with mild interest. "these belonged to my late wife," zamek's voice trembles with emotion as it takes out a stack of parchment bound together by a string. letters? "as did these." jewels. "between the bandits that frequently raid our village and our greedy family members, i knew my most valuable items would be taken from me. that's why i hid them."

mishiro watches, silent, impassive. then she remembers that she had rarely seen her companion interact with npcs, given how little there are outside of safe zones, and she peeks at him to see if there is any change in his face.

"but the years are passing, and so i want my dena with me as the end approaches." zamek places the items in its lap and doesn't stand. it's dissolving from its fingertips, mishiro realizes, and light is beginning to pass through it. a gentler erasure, before cardinal brings it back to take another pair on a quest again. "thank you."

what a long spiel. perhaps it is meant to tug at a player's heartstrings, evoke in them a compassion for the artificial entities dwelling in this castle. but she finds it insulting, in a sense, that cardinal can even presume to relate with them in any way.

 

lyudochka deserved to die in the world she loved, too.

 

soon, zamek is no more and they are finally alone.

a quest completion window appears in front of her and she silently confirms her rewards. she gives pinball a nod, then she turns to her skills tab to equip [survival]. a small glow of accomplishment blossoms in her chest upon switching to her overall stats and seeing its first change in years. "one out of three," she breathes.

 

-> sandstorm: 228542: CD 8

Edited August 27 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

Pinball's head shot up. Mishiro calling for him had snagged his attention. Something about her voice. She thanked him -- she told him that he was good at fighting, and that she felt safe around him. Pinball's eyes lowered. "Of course," he replied. His voice was almost sullen, yet strangely resolute. Most days he wished that he wasn't, that she didn't. On others he caught a glimpse of her and remembered why he couldn't stop. 

 

Pinball watched as Zamek dropped to his knees, unearthing his most treasured possessions in the world. Letters, jewels, and other trinkets had been locked away in that little box beneath the sand. He clutched them close to his chest, tears welling up in the virtual man's eyes. Pinball remained cloaked, hooded. He was unaware that Mishiro was looking at him, searching, perhaps, for any hint of emotion breaking through the unchanging wall of ice that was his face. 

There was not. He was not as gentle as he once was. 

Zamek was gone. They were alone. He regarded Mishiro with a brief nod as she opened up her menu to equip her new skill. 

"One out of three," Pinball echoed. A part of him was proud. But he remained focused. "Good. Alright, on to the next."