Complete Dunnstads I'm the Drama

Lune

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2 Ebon Fever Stack
-20HP from Ebon Fever
-108HP from The Flock
60 Mitigation from Ultra Counter



"If he was, I've never seen a magia this organic." The texture she felt upon slashing through his flesh was different, even if he was a synthetic-skin magia. The enemy maneuvered, before unleashing more of his weird magic, quickly pulling her towards him while Fiora got yeeted into the Purple Haze.

Even after a strike to the head that ought to be fatal, he shrugged it off like he didn't possess a head. And for once, he finally focused on Lune.

"What is this?" Loud, loud haunting moans by the countless dark entities that Lune could feel swarming around her. Blocking her ear did absolutely nothing, so she tried to ignore it and continue attacking.

But the more damage she dealt to the knight, the louder the echoes of thousand ravens around her became, to the point that everything hurt. Her brain was on the verge of a sensory shutdown before she had enough and suppressed her own nervous system with control of her body, paralyzing herself in the process.

"Ugh," Slowly bringing both of her palms forward and aimed toward the foe, the white-haired woman charged a black, purplish ball that gradually grew in size. "Make it stop."

The orb cracked, releasing a directed high-gravitational burst toward the knight with enough force to push the caster herself back a few feet.

Rolls


Movement: C3

Ultra Counter
1d100 (81) + [60] + 25 + 25 + 25 = 216
216 damage
Ultra Counter successful, effects doubled!
Gain 60 damage and mitigation.
You are Vulnerable.
Gravimancy | Lune | Drama

BA: Evolve
+25 flat bonus
to Gravimancy




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@Fiora Di Angelo
 

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There was a burst of energy, gravity sending both the knight and Lune in opposite directions, with Fiora forced to drop prone least the monster of a man drags her along. The distance worked, or so it seemed as the voices begun to die off, their ring fading away just as quickly as they came, with only leftovers to remind Lune of their pain, before they finally were shut when the source could no longer hold claim of them.

The first to meet the ground with a clank would not be the armor of their foe, but his blade, dumped where he was once standing, as his limp form crashed unceremoniously onto the dirt, surrounded by the suffocating mist he called forth. Fiora's lungs didn't feel any better however, if anything they grew more irritated at the toxic fumes, reminding her to drag herself away from the danger, desperation only falling short when met with the fresh air past the blinding mists.

"It's not moving," She voiced out in between panting, rolling on her back as she coughed what little's left of that accursed air. "-The mist." She corrected herself after taking a deep breath. Far be it to claim their foe dead, yet what little of it's silhouette could be seen remained static as far as her blurred sight could tell from here.

She didn't give it another thought when the purple haze crawled across her foot, instead dragging herself away a few meters before standing upright once again. Before she could even suggest to retreat, her eye caught the amethyst glimmer of the knight's blade at arm's reach. The weapon shines on it's own, training anyone's gaze on it like it deserves the attention. Like a living entity beckoning them.

Yet the intrusive thoughts only made it all the more apparent that something was off, turning her back to it instead to retreat back to Lune, tracing her form with eye alone to find any wounds beyond the superficial.

"Don't know if he's dead or not but that sword screams cursed and I'm not buying we are clear just yet. How you holding up? Anything broken?" Her concerns were the least in her tone, far more at edge with the prospect of a second round coming their way, and the feeling that something was just about to happen should they turn their backs on the supposed body and the blade.

As seconds passed, no movement, no reappearence of the juggernaut they just faced; It made it seem as if he were truly dead, and yet there's that lingering feeling that something's alive, yet the only thing she can't take her eye from is that very same sword, calling for them in silence.

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The deafening blast sent the knight away, leaving his sword behind as he fell to the ground unmoving, although still enshrouded by the mysterious mist. The voice gradually stopped, lifting some of the headaches that were echoing in Lune's head.

She wouldn't be surprised if a 'Great Enemy Felled' text suddenly appeared soon afterward.

"It's not moving,"

"I don't think it's over." It screamed too much of a 'second phase', really. She expected of the purple haze and mist to instantly disperse once he went down, but it didn't seem to be the case. "How you holding up? Anything broken?" The green-haired elf asked, to which Lune showed her right hand, with fingers that were snapping back in place after handling the gravity blast. "All good."

Both waited in silence, ready in case anything jumped at them, but there wasn't anything. It was then that she decided to focus on the sword. "You feel that?" Hear would be the wrong word, as the sword pulls them, without sound or visual. Like it was beckoning them to come closer. "It's... calling?"

Part of it felt like a trap, but perhaps it was something they needed to do to dispel the mists and the haze away. Stabbing her greatsword into the ground, she turned to Fiora before walking towards the sword, right hand reaching towards it.

"Cut my arm off if the sword tries something funny."



@Fiora Di Angelo
 

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Things weren't usually this easy, so when Lune pointed that out, the sentiment became mutual. Either they go down fast or they don't go down at all, and given this one felt more like the latter than the former, the strain that the haze's existence brought only seemed to herald something else entirely.

Her eye locked in on the snappy fingers as they aggressively set themselves straight, "Really fits the 'Skinwalker' vibe you got." She pointed out, which only now made her think about the idea a little further; Unlikely, but wouldn't it be a shocker if Lune truly wasn't a Traveler but a creature pretending to be one?

Humouring the idea didn't feel appropiate right now, as they both zoned onto the large blade as it demands for their attention, "I don't think talking with strange magical weapons is a good idea honestly." Yet it's either that or destroy it, and one cannot be with the other if done in the wrong order, something that stopped her from trying entirely as she opted to tighten the grasp on her own blade instead, "No chance it won't, but well, your arm not mine." If Lune is confident on growing back arms, who is she to doubt it? That things would get funny was a guarantee at this point, just looking at the blade's mesmerizing colours made her senses twitch in danger, the raw power stored within almost blinding to look at for the perceptive.

Which only made it all the worse for Lune whose eyes clearly pick up magic a thousand-fold better than the average.

Sparks bursted from the weapon the moment Lune wrapped her fingers around it's handle, locking her muscles on place. It wouldn't let go now, as if the accursed item had found a new victim to take from in a similar manner to the fallen knight that was once it's wielder.

She could feel it just then, how her chest's might rip itself open with the magical pressure expelled from the weapon, yet unimpeded it did not; It had to fight with the silverhead for control, which would explain Lune through instinct alone the nature behind it: A parasite, seeking to latch itself onto any magical source it could find.

And despite the way it fails to eat away at the animancy powering her up, it begins to shift, becoming indistinguishable from Lune's own body, as if the blade's curse were simply hers and no one else's. The pain it came with, however, would be excruciating as a reminder of the battle warring within between the blade's influence and her autonomy...


Roll Result
1d100 (37) 100 = 137

Lune Will Check | Drama


It itches all over, and yet digging your nails in wouldn't make a difference. It's always one layer deeper, but crossing that line always reveals another. It's not so different to you, and it's only behind this revelation that you understand- Nothing really is. You just never once tried to go that far. Don't go one layer at a time: go two, go three, all at once even. Just like the sword does, just like you could.

It would go the other way around instead, as Lune's own magic would assimilate the sword's. This curse, this parasite, ended up taking too long, long enough for her mineral heart to discern it's methods and apply them on it's own. Just like her bones would simply understand how to fix themselves back to how they once were, so did her body react on it's own.

The one layer she couldn't peel through her own metamorphic abilities, that of her own magical essence, was now in reach thanks to the blade's own. By now, it's clear the metal was merely a container for it's living power, nothing but an empty shell barely worth swinging at this point compared to her own greatsword.

"Blink twice to not get your arm cut." Fiora called out as she kept her blade ready to swing, waiting for any signals that the woman was, indeed, fine... Or at least not possessed by the sword, that is.

And then a voice would erupt, yet given Fiora's lack of a reaction, it only seemed fair to assume only Lune could hear it.


"A new hand... Touches the beacon."



It's a masculine voice, gentle but commanding all the same, as if it were there and not all at once, and holding a minimal surprise for the turn of events.


"And it's none other than the Scourge of Ilmea's Lament in flesh and bone. I'm not surprised at all that you could tame the blade rather than fall prey to it's... Malfunction."



And yet the voice quivered, turning the closest to magical static as it could be described. Something was interfering with whatever connection this man had managed to summon, and following that was a dreadful sentiment, like a terrible fate would fall upon them should this linger on for even a second longer.


"Let instinct guide you to my coven..."



And then it vanished, despite there being words floating in the air, they would be lost as the link simply cut short between them, and this very same feeling haunting Lune's heart would disappear with it...

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Ignoring Fiora's remark about skinwalker, Lune walked closer to the sword, hand outstretched.

"I don't think talking with strange magical weapons is a good idea honestly."

"I know."


The moment she gripped the hilt, it felt like a claw was gripping her hand and wrapping itself on her wrist. There was nothing physical, but through her attuned eyes, she could see the form of magic hidden inside the blade pulling her.

Eyes opening wide, Lune gritted her teeth. The sword was alive; it threatened to take over her body by pouring an enormous amount of magical energy unfamiliar to her, trying to make her body its own. She quickly realized that the knight they fought seconds ago succumbed to this fate. The magic in her core retaliated, supplying an almost endless stream of energy in return for fighting it back.

It all seemed like a losing fight for an eternity, even though barely one second had passed. Slowly but surely, the dark force pushed through, threatening to take over her magical reactor.

But it was enough time for Lune's body to adapt; the crimson unknown magic, now flowed naturally through her body as if it was her own. She could feel the symbiotic weapon's surprise, its fear and awe.

Mine.

Her own magic, now entwined with the dark energy that she took over, began to weave around the blade's curse, reverse-engineering it the same way it tried to take over her. It fought, but eventually, it resigned to its fate, radiating a feeling of newfound respect.

Lune's eyes snapped open red, and she looked down at the blade. She could feel its power within her, and in turn, the weapon felt like an extension of her own body.

"Blink twice to not get your arm cut."

"What if it took over my body and blinked twice?"
She raised her eyebrows but blinked twice anyway. "Don't worry, I won." Holding the sword horizontally in front of her, Lune molded the sword into something smaller, but still with a great length that she's accustomed to, forming an odachi. All the purple haze around them was absorbed into the long sword, before sealing itself in a sheath. Pretty neat, she thought.

As she looked around, she finally noticed something changed about her. Her snow-white hair seemed to have turned purple for the most part, but not completely, leaving silver strands on the edges.

Suddenly, a masculine voice rang inside her head. Alert, Lune tried to focus, but couldn't detect the trace of where the voice came from. The mention of Ilmea shocked her, as she wouldn't think anyone could link her back to her blue-haired form back then.

Who is this?

She tried to ask, but no clear answer was given, other than to 'meet him in his coven'. The feeling subsided, but somehow Lune knew exactly where to go through the nameless blade's magic inside of her.

Pausing, the woman turned to Fiora. "I don't think this is the end of it," She made her way toward the knight they just defeated, the previous vessel of the parasitic sword, "I gotta see this through. Perhaps you should go home, it might be dangerous." She warned the elf, before kneeling down to check on the guy. "Hey, you alright?"



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A weary sigh broke past her lips as soon as Lune blinked, lowering the blade down until the tip touched the earth "I'm still not sure if it's you or not. Can barely understand what I'm looking at." Fiora admitted. The fact she lot track of the inner power struggle only put her more at edge than ease, but if one thing she's sure of: Somebody won.

Hopefully It was Lune and not the imposter, yet given the lack of any subtlety their foe had, she didn't think too far ahead for that matter, let alone how the mists merely decided to dissipate and return to the weapon. A cool detail, one probably the grape-head was responsible for.

Before Fiora could even get to touch the limp knight, her attention went back to Lune as she claimed there to be more, "We did what we have to, anything else is extra." And an extra that doesn't pay on top of that. However, checking on the person seemed to be like the least they could do, even if her suspicions ran high that they accidentally murdered him.

And it's when Fiora flipped him to the side that the helmet fell off, revealing there to be nothing above it's pale neck, the blood long dried out and the wound that decapitated him was pitch-black, with nothing but rotten flesh visible.

"...This explains why he wouldn't go down that easily, huh." Her eye shifted over to her partner's arm, as if connecting the dots already that the weapon had -something- to do with it, and the purple-head had a clue already on where to look, based on her warnings, "It was dangerous before, it's still dangerous now. So let's go pay a visit to your hair stylist, two of us is better than one." She stood back up, sheathing her sword back, folding her arms against her chest, figuring Lune would be the one to know where to move next.

Better this than to deal with Chamsae, that's for sure.


It was a pathless destination straight through the darkness. Duunstad had many dangers awaiting those who follow it's roads, which only emphasizes how reckless their journey would be. Despite there being a clear direction for Lune to follow, it didn't make it any easier to traverse this twisted lands. Their only respite being the quietness with which they are met along the way.

Not a single noise, no marks on the trees, no eyes within the bushes. It's as if no animal dared to follow a bee-line like they did, and the life within Duunstad itself decided it was unhospitable enough. It wouldn't be long until they clashed with the mists once again, yet the haze lacked it's distinctive purple. Alarming, but nothing Fiora couldn't shrug off given it would offer no resistance. Quite the contrary in fact; It invites them.

As deep beneath the fog, civilization arises, with lanterns hanging from every house, and the many of it's villagers going back and forth with their lives. Fathers, daughters, sons and mothers, their eyes never peeling from their tasks, some more mundane than others, some more fun, given the many little ones running around for what must be a game of tag.

None seem to be concerned with the murky waters nor the slithering beasts within, their golden gazes almost felt like a warning whenever it reached their direction, much like the hooded rangers which had their bows trained on them now the moment they got a little too closer...

Fiora's hand rested idly over her sword's pommel. No one seemed to want to do a first move and that's clear, and yet there was no one sounding any sort of alarm. Far from it, the guardians of this village were far more keen on waiting with trained eyes on both of them, at least until one of them finally stepped from within the rightmost hut and jumped down onto the mud, the hood pulled off by gravity alone to reveal his scarred visage.


"My apologies, I didn't tell them two of you would arrive, so they are obviously at edge." He bowed his head lightly, hands behind his back as he kept a fair distance between the duo and himself "I'm Oros, the one who spoke to you only a few hours ago. I'm glad you could make it, and in one piece nonetheless."



"You make it seem like you two know eachother." She cut straight to the fishy part of the conversation, specially given the lack of details thus far. Even without a set of arrows aiming to skewer them, it didn't make her any more comfortable knowing things are amiss between Lune and this man.



"Not at all. But I figured Moonsong already told you a little of the circumstances, correct?"



"What did you just say?-" Her head quickly turned back to Lune with a questioning frown painted all over her face, as if the woman had been the imposter the whole time and the real Lune died back then with the sword, "You..?"



"Drama I wasn't aware of..?" He covered his lips, shameful of awakening what must be either old scars or merely a reveal not yet to be made. "Oops..? But this is no time to stand idle infront of the village. If there's anything to be discussed, we should do so in private. It's dangerous around this time." A little lie, but one to try and defuse the situation a little.



Which was something that didn't entirely work, as even Oros's words weren't enough to convince Fiora to keep her golden eye from the purple-silver head right now, something that felt almost remarkable to point out in her mind given the similarity with this Oros person. But she let that die off, if anything, because it didn't make a difference to her: only that there was an unecessary lie, really.

Oros guided the pair down the central bridge, the closest to the water and the one that practically connects with the rest of the compact village, spreading akin to branches from a tree, which matched the fact some of the largest of them were used as a home.

"The people from Duunstads does not know of this place, so I trust you two will keep it a secret. For their sake and ours..."



Falderen,
Light's Hope: The Village in The Mists,
Night.


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"Long dead."

So who the hell spoke to her about returning to the flock, and that the witch would hold council to her kind and all that? The sword? Shivers ran through her body, but she decided to pursue the answer later.

"Fine. We should get going then, follow me."

Something definitely guided her along the way. She didn't know how, but she just instinctively made several turns in the weirdest place, before they went deeper into the fog-covered woods. It was a few minutes before some civilization finally showed itself before them. Whatever this place was, not even the Guild had information that it was there.

Despite being an unusual sight, the guards around just eyed them from a distance. It was then a man with a somehow familiar hair color introduced himself to both of them. Lune recognized his voice; he spoke to her as soon as she conquered the blade.

Perhaps the more surprising thing than this man knowing about the Ilmea incident, was how he suddenly referred to Lune by her own name. A name she hadn't heard for so long. "Sigh..." She facepalmed, exhaling deeply. She could feel Fiora's eyes on her. "... We'll talk about this later, alright? We have more important things right now." The purple-white-haired woman turned to the man. "I just go by Lune nowadays. So you can call me that."

"So, Oros."


As they walked, Lune struck up a conversation. "I think it is to be expected that I have several questions for you to answer, if you would." It is natural, after all. "Who are you? How do you know so much of me?" But then quickly jokingly added while chuckling, to lighten the mood. "But I suppose you don't know me that well if you used that name."

"What is your connection to the blade? Why did it tell me to get judged by a witch?" Both he and the blade kind of demanded the same thing; to go to a specific place. She then motioned around.

"And ... what is this village? How is it kept hidden from the world outside?"



@Fiora Di Angelo
 

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"Yeah, let's." It was whatever at this point, yet Fiora didn't had it in her to continue pushing the matter. It's not like it would make a difference at this point on, and their time spent in this village probably was being counted down ever since they stepped in; Best not to let it go to waste.

Oros on the other hand cleared his throat, trying his best to redirect the attention back at himself, if anything to take the aggro off 'Lune' now that she took the opportunity to drown the drama with questions. "And most importantly, why did you drag us here." The greennette added one of her own to cover all the bases.


"Through not-so-reliable sources of information, sadly." He played along with a smile, walking over a large set of stairs that lead straight to an oval-shaped entrance, covered by a curtain. It lead straight to one of the largest abodes carved into the bark of a tree. "Whenever any god's influence acts directly in our world, we track it down; Why, how, when. It all lead to a woman of your description, who suddently vanished, yet we caught the scent of. You've been to places, and magic tends to be a scent only few can pick up. Well, with the exception of a magiahound." He paused, spreading an arm out to push open the curtain and let the duo inside.


It was nothing to sing songs about; The interior was just as humble as the outside, being composed entirely of one round-shaped room, where in the center lies several sets of pillows all facing towards a large one on the center, and in between a tea set waits, with one cup meant for each 'seat'. On the East there would be a rather conservative kitchen, working mostly through a cauldron, to the north there would be a bed and a nightdesk, where several books can be seen piled together, and an open one left laying over the sheets, and to the west another curtain, transparent enough to tell the inside had some kind of statue facing a window, with several objects spread across a curved table, impossible to tell apart given the distance, yet possibly linked to the canvas held on place right next to it.

"I'm the leader of a group whose name has long been forgotten, a community found before I was even born. They are all just as discarded as the name of our kind was. We are all people who found virtue in being forsaken by the gods, or simply found themselves incapable of living with those who do. We do not follow any of the deities, and some were cursed by them, even. Much like you carry Tyldr's Wrath on your shoulders." He waved back over to the pillows, far from the most comfy bunch, yet certainly spongy enough to make do given the prospect within the rest of the town. Only when the duo sat down did he follow suit.



"The sword you found is made by Skagg, the smith in town. Not a good fighter surprisingly, but that ogre can temper any weapon with magic in ways only Tertorians could match." He offered a smile to the pair, his fingers snapping and fire engulfed his thumb moments later, which he carefully rested over the teapot along the rest of his palm. "To not waste your time with intricacies, the blade is offered only to the strongest of our members, those willing to become paragons, to keep our people and the village within the mists safe, yet it's power requires temperance, something Navar lacked..." Regrettably so, Oros couldn't hide the guilt showing up on his face.. "I am glad you could free him from that torment. The blade eats away at those who lack the abilities to control it. Yet compared to Starcalled, it's hard to tell which are capable or not, and thus only the bravest even attempt to claim one."


"Alas, you found the witch Navar spoke of. One of us at least. There are more of us scattered throughout Arcia. We tend to be located in places where the air is heavy with magic, yet we are not united per say. It's safer if each village is completely disregarded by the rest, as a means to keep each of us safe should one fall."



"And why exactly are you telling us all of this as if we weren't just two strangers you just met?" That, perhaps, felt like the most dubious aspect of this all, the one thing to get her quirking a brow in both alarm and curiosity. Certainly they didn't believe they were the charitable sort just out of the blue, did they?


"No offense, but I do not trust you. However, Lune here clearly has a bond with you. She trusted you not to stab her in the back thus far, so you are no mere mercenary, or at least not a heartless one, despite the plague you carry within. On the other hand..." A pause, enough to let his eyes slide back to Lune, "I trust someone who suffers the same fate as I, followed by the ire of Tyldr wherever they go. And as good lookin' as I am, even." He jested with a smirk over his face, shooking off his head a second after, "But if anything, the Adventurer's Guild makes sure not to send their people our way, and in exchange, we keep certain 'things' from reaching out through their windows."




"Ah, I hate explaining too many details. Any of you up for a drink? Sing your song now, least it gets cold."


@Lune
 
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Lune

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She already knew that the form-changing disguise wouldn't fool anyone for long. After all, she couldn't hide her magical trace all the time. But to find out some people were keeping track of the gods' curses was a surprise.

"Pretty comfortable place you have here."

The white-purple-haired human looked around the humble abode. As they were cut off from the outside world, they didn't have those weird medieval-with-modern-touch things that people somehow got in a span of four years. She lowered herself and sat on a pillow, before motioning for Oros to follow suit.

"That was the least we could do. His rampaging husk would eventually threaten people around."
Sighing, she shook her head. As 'unworthy' as the Navar man was, no one should deserve that kind of fate. "I reckon that was not the first time this happened?"

"Also, this was not meant for mine. Perhaps you should take this back."
The woman reached to her side, taking the dangerous weapon, and presented it to Oros. The weapon itself was already in a vastly different form than the greatsword that Navar wielded; now it's a long, heavy odachi in a white sheathe.

In the middle of the explanation, Fiora quickly cut the man off. Perhaps she was already tired of the sudden exposition dump, but escalating it like this might not be the smartest thing. "The oreo hair works, what can I say." The woman quickly joked to lighten the tension between the village leader and Fiora, who was as impatient as ever. "Also, you can trust her. You have my word." She nodded towards the green-haired elf.

"I'll take the drink." Lune accepted the tea offer, as a gesture of respect and hospitality.

"But now with that other questions are out of the way..." Dropping all the joking tone, Lune went straight to business with the man. "What do you want with me, exactly? Obviously, you didn't guide me here just for a chit-chat and tea." She picked up the cup, sipping the tea while keeping her gaze locked on Oros' purple eyes.



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"It was much more humble than this when I arrived. Nothing a few personal touches can't help, of course." The mere mention had him admire his own work once again, proudly so despite how little he has. Merely a matter of perspectives, given how half-full of a glass this abode felt to him.



"It's not. Unfortunately, It's very difficult to gauge whose worthy or not until the weapons themselves dictate it. Think of them as 'spirits', or a 'force of nature' if you are so inclined to believe in the likes of Gwyndolainn's followers." He explained, lifting his cup up to take a sip from. "Once it finds a worthy host, it cannot unbind itself unless we destroy it. It would not be my right to do so either, as while this blade has been forged here, it belongs to a different witch."



Fiora kept the cup on her hand as a mere formality. She wasn't very keen on having a drink given by some stranger with cultist vibes and a hair dye that leaves much to be desired. If anything, it all seemed like one big scam in her eyes, which made the conversation all the more harder to follow through without scrutiny pecking at the back of her mind.

The pun flew over Oros head, of course, the man giving Lune a confused smile, yet at least it added a new word for him to learn about. Needless to say, he wasn't about to point out or ask for an explanation, far be it to make the woman feel awkward about her failed attempt at humour, latching onto the last question as if the conversation depended on it.

And it sort of did, anyways.


"I had to thank the both of you for putting a stray soul to rest." He felt obligued to briefly bow his head to the duo, "But given the circumstances, I have something to ask of you. There is a village up within the Hylands. The witch who owns that blade." It wasn't needed to say no more, given they could probably connect the dots by now, yet the way his face contorts is far from chill. If anything, concern could barely hold itself back on his visage



"Many coincidences are happening, one after another, and I fear inaction is going to bring along consequences. Perhaps it's a matter within the realm of the gods, perhaps not, but I wish to act regardless." He felt obligued to briefly bow his head to the duo, "Which is why I'd like for you to make the journey with me to meet the Hylands Witch. I'd rather not decide the fate of another witch's sword." He furrowed his brows, letting the cup back down, crossing his arms against his chest. "You both did plenty for me already, and I know this is asking for much, specially when gold is not part of the deal."



"The sword, however, has bonded with your spirit already, so regardless of what your answer is, you can keep it least you don't want it at all. No witch would get in the way of a kindred spirit. Besides, It's company may fit a soul as lonely as yours."



@Lune
 

Lune

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Listening to Oros yapping explaining more about the sword, the more shivers she got. A living weapon didn't seem... morally right. But she wasn't one to talk about morals, obviously. Not when she was willing to cause Ilmea a disaster to gain power.

Also, she kinda forgot that 'oreo' wasn't a thing in this world. But at the very least it confirmed that he was indeed a lander and not some player trying to pass as one.

"Hylands." Ugh, that shithole. "... I'll go there. I need to see this through." It's not like she would say no, especially when she could feel the blade urging her inside her mind, telling her specifically where to go to seek this 'Hylands Witch'.

Not that she already had enough voices in her head.

Lune broke her gaze off the odachi when Oros mentioned that the sword was bonded on a spiritual level. "Ouch," She chuckled at the mention of the lonely soul. "That hits deep."

"As much as I want to stay here and look around the village, I think we must take our leave for now."
Placing down the empty teacup, she slowly got up from the pillow, signaling Fiora to follow suit. "Thank you for the hospitality, I hope you will welcome us the next time we visit." The human bowed slightly, before saying her farewell to the village leader.

They proceeded to walk slowly out of the village, into the mist in silence, before Lune stopped halfway.

"Right... We gotta talk about the elephant in the room." Sighing, the woman clutched her face. Her face slowly shifted, to the ones the other woman had seen before. The red-haired figure at Hylands, the blue-haired swordswoman during the fight against Szofrit, before settling on the visage of none other than Moonsong.

Dropping the artificial deep voice, she turned to the green-haired elf. "... Yes, I'm Dayeon. I didn't tell anyone that I kept playing. But did I have to?" Lune shrugged, before turning her back, slowly walking while circling Fiora.

"You know how Luth is. That 'friends go through hell with you' thing with her? It'll get her killed someday, or Yugam."
Her steps slowed, as she pointed at the elf. "Or you, or Ronja." By mentioning that name, Lune was sure that Fiora would share the same sentiment as her. "She hasn't experienced loss yet. And she doesn't have to."

"Some paths are just meant to be walked alone. This was the one I chose."
Her face went back to how it was, now the pair of red eyes were meeting Fiora's yellow gemstones. Just by looking at it, the elf would have felt the hollowness behind the gaze. The eyes of someone who lost too much.

"You'd understand."



@Fiora Di Angelo
 

Fiora Di Angelo

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The burden on his shoulders felt a little lighter once Lune agreed, a fresh smile pushing up at the corner of his lips, growth held back by temperance alone, then nodded back at her, a pinch of sadness pushing through his face as Lune laughed off what must have been an old scar he poked.

Or perhaps the right guess, sometimes a curse rather than a blessing. Too much knowledge with too little awareness only makes him wish to wind back time to avoid putting words in his mouth.

"I'm sorry, it's easy to forget I shouldn't try to read too much into others." Sincere but brief, as Lune intended to depart rather than stick around any longer. "You are always welcome to return, company included. Hopefully we'll cross paths again, without urgent matters in the way." He bowed, his eyes set on the duo all the way until they left his abode.


And then he sat down once again, exhaling a deep, weary breath, gaze set upon his cup, half-full this time around. With little restraint left, Oros picked it up once again, taking a careful sip before placing it back down, turning it a little to face north...



Fiora tagged along, eye dead set on Lune, both knowing full well the moment to stop would come soon, it was all a matter of when the half-purplette felt like to be the best. By the time she turned back, Fiora had to watch all these different masks the woman wore all until now, from the last to the first.

Even then, it didn't felt like the same person. It was hard to call her 'Moonsong' at this point. That face just didn't fit her anymore.

She opted for silence, letting her fully explain herself first, gaze following her around as she moved, and even when Moonsong got by the very corner of her vision, something kept tracking her movements regardless of the elf.

And then it came to the mention of Luthien, of death itself and how it was practically awaiting all of them. It was hard not to agree with it, borderline impossible with how hard the guillotine hangs over Luthien and Ronja.

"It would have been nice to know who I shouldn't point a sword at, for starters. Not every player is some lawful do-gooder." Fiora folded her arms against her chest, keeping her gaze fixated in these painfully hollow eyes the idol has been forced into.

"Ronja wasn't even part of a fight and look what happened to her. With how much Luthien likes to poke her nose where she shouldn't, it's just a matter of time until she bites it." She nodded in Lune's direction, head tilting a bit to the side as to give a better look at that face of hers, or rather, 'Moonsong's. "-That face doesn't suit you anymore." Death wasn't the only form of loss. Perhaps Luthien could ignore it, but it felt hard to think of this person as Moonsong anymore.

She pushed a few locks of hair aside, careful to keep the bangs over her missing eye, "Do whatever you want, just remember that this is still a 'MMO'. We can't kill every problem on our own." A hand reached out to open her UI, finger hovering upon her inventory, until her hesitation turned into a defeated sigh as she let go of the vice this time, closing off the UI.

"Give me a call if things go to shit and you need an extra set of hands. You are still my favourite of the Slime Girls so I ain't gonna charge you." The smirk she gave didn't even fit Nico. It was hard to even call her the same person, just like Dayeon and Lune don't feel like the same person anymore either.

@Lune
 
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