[F29-PP] The Light Within the Tempest <<To Shine a Light>>

[Jae 0]

The rumors wove themselves into the air like threads of smoke, drifting from table to table in the dimly lit tavern on Floor 02. They were fragmented, half-whispered tales that dissolved as quickly as they formed, leaving only the lingering taste of intrigue. Jae caught the murmur first as a stray thread—something about a quest unlike any other, a challenge that had broken even the strongest among Aincrad’s warriors. Even those who walked the frontlines, whose blades had tasted victory over countless foes, those under them spoke of the quest with hesitation in their voices and shadows in their eyes. "To Shine a Light," they called it—a name that seemed to mock the bleakness of its promise.  She didn't enjoy the tavern too much, but she couldn't deny how easy it was to obtain information.

Graycott Point, a lighthouse on the forsaken Floor 29, was its stage. A monolith battered by the fury of endless storms, perched above a sea that churned like a cauldron of black ink. The floor offered no reprieve: no safe zones to cradle weary players, no momentary shelters where fear could ebb. Just the relentless rain, the wrath of the winds, and the horrors whispered to stalk its waters and shadows. The quest’s name was almost cruel in its simplicity, a beacon for the desperate and the daring, yet no one had claimed its light. The jade-eyed sentinel of the night could feel the weight of their words, a pressure that settled on her shoulders like an unwelcome specter. But rather than crumbling beneath it, something within her burned brighter, igniting a flame she hadn’t realized was there. The challenge wasn’t just about the quest; it was a measure of her resolve, her right to even dream of the frontlines. How could she hope to stand among those legends if she couldn’t summon the strength to carve her path to the 29th floor alone? Her fists clenched at her sides, her breath steadying as determination coiled tight in her chest. The familiar weight of Veilpiercer at her back was a whisper of confidence, a reminder of her newfound strength and skill. This was more than a test; it was her reckoning.

For too long, she had let herself linger in the shadows of Aincrad’s lower floors, but now, as the whispers grew and the fire in her heart roared, Jae knew this was her time. The shadow of Graycott Point called to her, and she would answer.

The early stages of her journey were a symphony of the familiar, though the melody held a quiet tension. The lower floors thrummed with life—a patchwork of bustling markets, the laughter of small triumphs, and the clash of steel in the distance. Players wove through the chaos like threads in a tapestry, crafting their existence against the odds. The emerald-eye'd lass moved among them as a shadow, a lone figure carving her own line through the vivid tide. Step by step, floor by floor, she ascended with a silent intensity, her emerald eyes gleaming like distant stars fixed on the horizon of her goal. As the well-trodden paths of the lower levels dissolved into the surreal terrains of the higher floors, the air itself seemed to shift, heavier and more alien with every stride. The beauty of Floor 28 stretched around her, its skies crystalline and serene—a final reprieve before the storm. Then, as though crossing an unseen threshold, the world fractured into chaos. Floor 29 roared into existence with a fury that stole her breath. The storm was a living thing, its rain slashing sideways in relentless sheets, its winds howling like spectral cries. The air pulsed with an electric charge, thick and suffocating, as if the floor itself whispered of dangers unseen but always watching.

Jae’s boots scraped against the slick stone at the edge of the portal, her body braced against the ferocity of the elements. The storm enveloped her in its cold embrace, soaking through her cloak, chilling her resolve. For the first time, her steps faltered. Stories she had tried to ignore clawed their way to the forefront of her mind, each whisper painting vivid images of monstrosities lurking just beyond her vision. Her breath misted in the frigid air, a fragile testament to her presence in the storm’s domain.

Floor 29 welcomed her with a rage that felt alive. Rain hammered the cobbled streets as lightning ripped jagged scars across the sky. The taste of salt and metal, lingered on the tip of her tongue. The city at the portal's edge lay in shambles, its buildings sagging under the relentless weather. Pools of water shimmered with faint reflections of her silhouette, only for the images to ripple and distort, twisting into something alien before fading. Shadows stalked her path in unseen forms. The occasional sound of shuffling feet or guttural growls echoed from alleys, a reminder that not all things in this place were content to remain unseen. But Jaelynn pressed forward, her hand hovering on the hilt of Veilpiercer. Her journey took her through the drenched streets until she found a weathered NPC shrouded in a tattered raincoat, standing beside a small, storm-battered boat.

“I need to get to Graycott Point,” she said, her voice carrying over the howl of the wind.

The NPC’s hollow eyes regarded her in silence, and for a moment, the silver-haired vixen wondered if she would be refused. But then he nodded, a hand outstretched for payment. She handed over a meager handful of col, some of the earnings she had saved up. Without another word, the NPC gestured for her to board. The boat swayed violently as it cut through the black waters, the storm above a relentless tyrant. The emerald-starred nomad clung to the edge, her knuckles white, as waves crashed against the hull. The lighthouse loomed in the distance, its beam slicing through the darkness like a solitary promise. As they neared the shore, the boat seemed to groan in protest, as if the very ocean resented their intrusion. When her boots finally touched the slick, rocky shore of the island, Jae gazed up at the towering silhouette of Graycott Point. Its light continued to sweep the storm, indifferent to her presence. The only sound was the relentless drum of rain and the distant crash of waves against stone. This was it—the beginning of her trial.

The quest window appeared as soon as she stepped toward the lighthouse.
<<To Shine a Light.>>

She stared at the words, her heart pounding as she pressed 'Accept.'

Quote

***
[Jae] | Lv. 4 | HP: 80/80 | EN: 26/26 | DMG: 5 | ACC: III | EV: - |
***
Skills: Straight Swords (Rank 3)
***
Sword Arts:

• [x8] ST-I (8 EN) | A single-target sword art.
• [x11] ST-II (11 EN) | A powerful single-target sword art. Only available for use when ST-I was used and successfully struck an enemy the previous turn or if ST-II had been used and had missed the previous turn.
• [x7] AOE-I (7 + [2 * targets] EN) | AOE | A sword art that strikes multiple targets at once.
• [x8] TECH-A (9 EN) | STUN | A single-target sword art that stuns an enemy.

***
Battle Equipment:
Veilpiercer (ACC III) (Equipped)
Rare Longsword (Paralyze/ACC)
(3) Starter Healing Potions (Heals 50 HP)
Black Cloak w/ Hood (Vanity Item | No Benefit)

***
OOC:
Activating Yui's Grace [T5 Donor] 3/4 Remaining

 

Edited January 27 by Jae
Going to use a Yui's Grace

[Lilik 0]

The rain pounded the earth incessantly. Thunder boomed and crackled like fireworks sizzling across the black sky. The warped cries of hellish, inhuman creatures came from all directions, a bastardization of the natural night music. And above it all rose a peal of high-pitched, full-bodied laughter. 

Lilik stood among the trees, her arms outstretched, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Drops pelted her, tiny bullets that stung her exposed skin and soaked her already water-logged clothes. Her lavender hair lung in long, wet tendrils, while her bangs lay plastered to her flushed cheeks. An expression of sheer, unbridled joy lit her features, a stark contrast to her dreary surroundings. Her yellow eyes danced, and the grin that curled her lips was almost sexual in nature as the Player opened herself up to the downpour.

"It's soooo good," she howled to no one in particular before finally standing upright again. The woman gave a little shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. Both hands went to her face and she scrubbed the water from her eyes, then raked her fingers through her hair. The gesture was so commonplace, and to anyone watching, she looked like a woman entirely at ease. Or entirely vulnerable, given her complete lack of visible armor or weapon. And that assessment would be correct. As a level seventeen Player with only vanity gear and no formal training, Lilik had absolutely no business crossing the most dangerous floor currently available. The same floor that had nearly chewed up and spit out the Frontliners upon their initial arrival.

So why was Lilik on Floor 29?

Simple.

Because she wanted to be.

The unveiling of new floors had never impressed her much. Oh wow, another forest! More dark floors lit by colorful crystals! Another mountain! Whoopdie-fucking-do. Lilik could not care less about any of it. She did not lie awake at night, wondering just how many Defiled Churches the creators could cram into one floating castle. All that mattered to her was that each floor cleared meant one step closer to freedom. With that being said, she had dropped everything the moment she heard that Floor 29 was ripped straight from the pages of a HP Lovecraft story. Literally. She had pushed back from the table, sprinted from the tavern, and raced to the teleport gate, leaving her bewildered date waiting for their drinks at the bar. It was no great loss, as he'd been a bit of a dud.

Floor 29, on the other hand, exceeded her expectations. The horror aficionado couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so free, felt so alive, since getting herself locked in Aincrad. It was the buzz that in-game alcohol simply couldn't give her, and the high she hadn't felt since her last hit in her little Tokyo apartment. The lightning that zinged through the clouds above couldn't hold a candle to the electric hum singing through her veins. This, she thought to herself, is where I belong.

She moved into a jog, long strides eating up the distance to the edge of the forest. When she broke through the trees, Lilik found herself pinned between the woods and an endless void. The dark waters, oily in their blackness, thrashed and tumbled with the howling winds. It was as if the sea itself was alive, an enraged animal hell-bent on unleashing its wrath upon the rocks it crashed against. A single entity stood between the Black and the rest of the floor, a silent, stalwart protector. Its beam sliced through the night, guiding lost souls to safety as its kind had for thousands of years.

"A fucking lighthouse," Lilik mused aloud, her hands on her hips as she gazed appreciatively up at the tower. "That's so goddamn perfect."

When the quest window populated, she didn't even pause to read it before slamming the accept button. 

Spoiler

Lilik
Level: 17
Paragon Level: 0
HP: 340/340
EN: 52/52

Stats:
Damage: 8

Equipped Gear:
Weapon: Vanity Whip
Armor: Vanity Armor

Skills:
Whip R5

 

[Abellio 0]

"GET YOUR FLIPPER OFF OF ME!"

You could count on three things: Death, Taxes, and Abellio sticking his head right smack. dab. into the bear trap. Such was the case - and the reason - for his presence on Floor 29. The man couldn't possibly tell you what possessed him to take such a risk. But from the moment he set foot onto Floor 29, he was beset by monstrosities from all directions. Shambling masses, mutated freaks, all with a flipper or a fin or a set of gills they should not have. Perhaps the most ominous thing about them (other than everything about them) were the black crystals floating over their heads. This was the Forgotten Time King all over again. Only there was no Oscar to pull his ass out of the fire.

But thankfully, there was a mercy to be had.

They were so goddamn slow.

Though that didn't help much when a half-walrus came crashing through a boarded-up door and caressed his face with a massive, slimy flipper.

"Why is it wet???" Abellio lamented as he juked the group of horrors down a back alley. A rather big mistake, that. Given there were a couple guys with sharks for heads waiting for him at the end of the narrow corridor. Behind him, the walrus shuffled towards him and before him were the two sharks. All of them looked like they wanted Abellio steaks for dinner. But rather than freeze, Abellio knew the only way out was through. Or, in this case, up.

He turned on his heels, barreling towards the walrus. The creature lunged, trying to trap Abellio in a bear (or is it walrus) hug. But the fireball didn't give it the chance. He took a leap and used the creature's face as a springboard to send himself sailing up towards the roof of one of the ruined structures flanking him.

And who said white boys couldn't jump?

"Haha!" Abellio rejoiced as he took hold of the side of the roof and swung himself up to stand above the mass of horrific creatures. "Get fucked Waldo!"

Waldo was a good name for the creature, Abellio thought. Black beady eyes drilled into him from below, flippers stretched out toward the heavens. It tugged at his heartstrings a little. It just wanted a hug. And Abellio might have been keen to oblige if he wasn't absolutely certain Waldo would kill him. He tore his eyes away, a light in the distance catching his eye.

"Ooh," he said excitedly, forgetting the danger he'd just extracted himself from immediately. "What's that?"

Things seemed safe enough so long as he kept to the rooftops. And that light in the distance was all but calling his name. Or maybe it was actually calling his name. He was too focused to tell. He had to be careful running along the rooftops. If one collapsed and dropped him into a waiting den of monsters, he would be in real trouble. But finally, as he neared the structure, he could make out that it was a Lighthouse. And when he could make out that it was a Lighthouse, a quest window populated.

As he was reading it over, Abellio vaulted from roof to tree. But as he was distracted, he missed his handhold. Abellio wasn't going to accept the quest. If there was any fighting, he was not able to catch that smoke this high up. But rather than deny the pop-up, when his hand slipped, his finger smashed the green circle instead of the red x, locking him into the mission. And to make matters worse, the ground was coming up quick. Like a red-and-white meteor, Abellio smashed into the ground face first. A rain of dust and debris puffed out in all directions as he remained frozen, stunned, with his face literally kissing floor.

Eventually, he kicked his legs and the momentum sent him into a backwards somersault, slamming him down into the ground on his back with another smaller puff of dust. He looked skyward, expecting to see the rainclouds and - maybe a twinkle of stars in the night sky. But, instead, he found himself staring into the gilded irises of a woman.

"Please for the love of God tell me you don't have a fuckin' flipper."

Spoiler

Name: Abellio
True Tier: 2
Level: 11
Paragon Level: 0
HP: 220/220
EN: 40/40

Stats:
Damage: 11
Mitigation: 58
Battle Healing: 2
Stealth Rating: -5

Equipped Gear:
Weapon/Armor/Trinket: 
  - 
Armor/Trinket: 
  - <<Spiked Pauldrons>> 2 THRNS
Shield/Armor/Trinket: 
  - <<Chainmail>> 3 MIT

Combat Mastery:
  - Combat Mastery: Damage R3

Combat Shift:
  - 

Familiar Skill:
  - 

Custom Skill:
  - 

Skills:
  - Battle Healing R1
  - Heavy Armor R5
  - Straight Sword R2

Extra Skills:

Inactive Extra Skills:

Addons:

Mods:

Inactive Mods:

Battle Ready Inventory:

Housing Buffs:
  - Bathroom: The first time you would suffer DoT damage in a thread, reduce damage taken from DoT each turn by 20% (rounded down)
  - Basic Workshop: +2 EXP per crafting attempt
  - Basic Kitchen: 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.
  - Storage Closet: +1 Battle Ready Inventory Slot
  - Living Room: Increases out of combatHP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts.
  - Slime Farm: +5% EXP to a thread. Limit one use per month. Must be used on a player's first post in a thread. Cooldown begins counting down when used in a post.

Guild Hall Buffs:

Scents of the Wild Totem:

Wedding Ring:

Crafting Profession:

Gathering Profession:                                                                                                             

 

Edited February 8 by Abellio

[Jae 0]

The shore was little more than jagged rock and restless water, slick with rain and foam, the wind carving merciless fingers through the darkness. Jae stepped from the swaying boat with stiff limbs, her balance shifting as she landed on uneven stone. Her fingers uncurled from the boat’s edge, knuckles pale, stiff from the cold. She had gripped too tightly, a reaction she hadn’t fully registered until now. The NPC boatman said nothing. He had barely spoken at all, and even as she turned her head slightly, she could feel his vacant gaze on her back, waiting. Perhaps for her to leave, or perhaps for something else entirely. She didn’t linger to find out.

Yet she heard the boatman sail off once she made enough distance. Maybe he was picking up others? Maybe he goes elsewhere once someone starts the mission? Jaelynn's thoughts only briefly lingered on the notion. For now, she was alone.

Graycott Point towered above her, its skeletal frame stretching into the black sky, its beacon slicing the darkness with surgical precision. Each sweep of the light illuminated the storm, but it did nothing to push back the abyss beyond it. It was a lighthouse that did not guide—only revealed. Her breath was a phantom in the air, barely visible before the rain swallowed it whole. Her body, soaked to the bone, sent sharp protests through her senses. It was different from the simple status effects SAO typically inflicted—this cold felt real, insidious. It curled beneath her skin, seeped into her very core, and she had never before considered that the game could mimic such a sensation so precisely.

Teeth clenched, Jae forced herself forward. The one-story building sat hunched against the lighthouse’s base, half-consumed by the shadows it cast. There were no signs of life, no flickering in the windows, no creak of movement beyond the storm’s endless dirge. But it was shelter. Her boots struck the stone path with uneven steps as she ascended toward the door, the weight of rain pressing down on her. Wind clawed at her cloak, dragging it against her shoulders like a desperate hand, as if the storm itself wished to keep her from stepping inside.

Then she crossed the threshold.

The howling fury dulled into a muted moan behind her as the heavy wooden door swung shut, cutting the storm’s claws from her back. The silence that followed was not empty, but watchful. The kind of silence that belonged to a house long abandoned, but not forgotten. Water dripped from her clothes, pooling onto the wooden floor, the sound unnervingly loud in the stillness. The air inside was thick, heavy with damp stone, charred wick, and something older—something that smelled of dust, neglect, and lingering things that did not belong to the living.

Candles flickered to life at her presence, lining shelves and corners, their glow hesitant, stretching the room’s features into elongated, ghostly limbs. The furniture was sparse—an old wooden table, chairs that seemed untouched for years, shelves filled with aged tomes whose spines were cracked with time. Shadows stretched long against the walls, shifting with the wavering flames, moving just a little too slowly, as if reluctant to retreat entirely. Jae exhaled, though it did little to steady her pulse. It wasn’t fear—it was the awareness of being somewhere that did not belong to her. A place that remembered, even if it had no voice to say so.

She peeled off her cloak, the heavy fabric resisting as she pulled it over her shoulders. Water clung to it, dragging it down with sluggish weight. She wrung the material in her hands before draping it over the back of a chair near the fireplace. The fire itself was small, flickering like a breath in the dark. Not roaring, not warm, but present. It would have to do. The cold still lingered. Jae rubbed her hands together, the friction barely easing the stiffness in her fingers. Her breath came slower now, the sharp chill dulling slightly as she stepped closer to the fire’s weak embrace.

Her eyes flicked to the room again, taking in its details, its stillness. 

The shadows moved restlessly, twisted by the flicker of the hearth as flames leap up, hungry for air. The stack of firewood is untouched, but the heat presses in regardless, pooling around the room like something alive. The storm pounds against the skylight above, and when lightning splits the sky, the room is briefly bleached out, leaving an afterimage of its sharp brilliance.

Jae’s gaze lingers on the couch and armchair, their cushions sagging in quiet familiarity. The rug beneath them swirls with color, but even now, it’s the muted shades that catch her attention—the ones that have been worn thin over time. The grandfather clock ticks methodically in the corner, though the hands remain frozen at 7:35. She almost expects the second hand to lurch forward, as if the time might still matter. Beside it, the chessboard seems to mock her in its stillness. The white King is missing, as if someone forgot to finish what they started—or perhaps never intended to.

Another fish hangs on the wall, smaller and redder than the one in the bedroom, but the sight of it doesn’t stir anything in her. A herring? She doesn’t linger long enough to care. Instead, her eyes fall on the jewelry box resting on the coffee table, its melody sputtering weakly, as if it too is locked in some forgotten loop. Four notes. Over and over, but never enough to finish.

On the edge of the table sits a sketchbook, one page bent and smudged, a pencil’s jagged bite marking the paper. A grid, numbers—an unfinished thought. It pulls at something in her, but she ignores it. Not yet. Her presence had disturbed something here, but it had yet to make itself known. The building felt like a waiting thing, patient and unmoving, its walls holding their secrets close.

After a long moment, she turned toward one of the candles that had lit upon her arrival. The wax dripped down its length in sluggish trails, pooling at the base like melted remnants of time itself. She reached out, fingers closing around the holder’s cool metal, lifting it from its resting place. The flame barely wavered, clinging to the wick as if it, too, had been waiting. The lighthouse loomed above, but for now, its secrets could keep. There was warmth to find first, a moment of reprieve before she pressed deeper into the unknown.

The candlelight trembled in her grip, casting unsteady shapes across the walls. Somewhere beyond, the storm raged on, indifferent to the lone figure who had stepped into its domain.

Edited February 12 by Jae