[CLOSED] counting crows

[Princess Ozma]

MADE MYSELF AT HOME IN THE COBWEBS AND THE LIES look what you made of me Corrupted class: Heretic. That was what she had become, madness sinking into the bits that made up what she was now. There was no one to explain it to her, just a frantic rush of hate that she didn’t understand from the people around her. But they weren’t really people, no more than she had been truly born this way, these ‘People of the Land’ that faced her at every turn. People die when they are killed, but not in Elder Tale. Death was an inconvenience, a trip to a cathedral that would always lead to a mad dash to exit town for her. Heretics were an abomination (she had to guess at what that word meant and she didn’t like the context clues) that needed to be purged from the system and reality. Princess Ozma cried herself to sleep the first time she had heard that, fresh from the expanse of miasma that she had gotten so hopelessly lost in. She had been terrible at asking for directions before; now she couldn’t even bring herself to try. Hannah missed her brother even as she balanced her scythe so carefully in her hands. It was just a game, a horrible game that she didn’t know how to play and was dreadful at. The first time she had walked into a field of adorable animals all she had wanted to do was pet them and laugh at their softness. Now, fresh from painful corruption, Ozma bared her teeth in a silent snarl of promised violence before she spun her weapon in her palms. It wasn’t her fault she was like this: corrupted, mad as the Queen of Hearts (and a hatter besides), and just as wicked as the Witch of the West. Curiously, the sun always burned the most when she opened herself to the miasma and let it strangle her slowly with pain. She cast her magic and let it eat away at the world, couldn’t bring herself to care and laughed when the bunnies ate each other. Heretics were abominations, corrupted the very order of nature just by existing. Ozma always tried to level as far away from People of the Land as possible, quietly avoiding the inevitable rage. Sometimes she even succeeded. Once, Hannah and her brother had watched a Monty Python film on a particularly rough day. Now, she felt like the woman with the false nose every time the People of the Land found her. She did things she wasn’t supposed to, desperate to avoid drowning but not desperate enough to fill them up with miasma until they popped black and ooze on the grass. The last time the People found her, Ozma had cried and cried as they slammed the bolt home on the cellar door. “I’m not bad! Please let me go!” But the light in her eyes and the darkness that dripped from her fingers down her scythe to trickle off the blade told them all they needed to know. (Once, the old man who tied her to the pole and fed her broth that tasted like water told her that they would have killed her outright if she had been one of them, but being a child Adventurer gave her a special kind of immunity.) She’s dangerous as long as she used magic… but she couldn’t bear to stop. Her brother wouldn’t want to see her like this. Princess Ozma was as much Hannah as Hannah was princess Ozma. It was almost an anagram, just like her name, but of an idea instead of a proper noun. She hated how Ozma had gone so wrong in the miasma; away from her brother she had lost her mind. And when the miasma reached up to her, Hannah couldn’t find herself for all of Ozma’s need to crush them all under her booted heel, laughed and laughed even as her body burned and broke from the inside out. The pain made her feel alive, like all of this was real and not a product of her own insanity. Ozma always liked it best when her corruption level dipped past three, when her fingers ached and her body felt like Hannah’s had. The People of the Land did not agree with this sentiment. So here she found herself with her scythe in her hands and a bunny rabbit looking monster twitching its nose at her. Was it too high level? Ozma could never tell. It never really mattered when it boiled down to it really: everything corrupted just as equally. It was almost hilarious how easy rabbit hunting was when one was a Heretic. The trick was to stand still and think of nothing until one or two of them hopped by, then wait some more. Ozma was good at pretending to be a tree, she really was. She was so good that she had developed a system based on her ability to stand absolutely still. A Frenmic Rabbit hopped by and she smiled as she cast her magic. Shackles of the Sentenced, slice with scythe, Humoral Stigma. Try not to die as the bunny got cranky. Shackle again, smack with scythe. Rinse and repeat until the nice bunny was dead and her body felt like it had been run over by a lorry. It was a good plan, really. Especially when she had the common sense to not siphon off the miasma from the dying bunny and just finish it off. Ozma did her best to stick to a hit and run style of killing bunnies in wide areas to avoid the chance of encountering People of the Land or even other Adventurers (one never knew who wanted to burn the witch), but sometimes her luck ran out. words 0954 tagged ANYONE notes idk violence

CODED BY MIDDY OF GS

[Steel]

"I spent enough time working on my subclass stuff, it's time to go hunting!" Steel said as he walked around town. The day had already turned into afternoon but Steel thought he still had some time to hunt. He took out the map he had made a few weeks ago and began searching for the gate leading into the woods. I'm glad I made this map. I still have trouble finding my way around town since I'm more accustomed to the Japan server. It also helps me chart out new areas I haven't explored yet. Steel thought to himself. He was feeling glad for having chosen the scribe subclass. The Courtesan subclass however was another story. He hasn't found too much of a use yet and hasn't really used it much, on purpose anyway. Once in a while, it activated the skill 'Allure' on its own as if it were a running gag from some manga or anime, attracting other's, mainly of the opposite gender, attention despite his simple attire and how he normally isn't noticed. Attracting so much attention was unnerving to Steel from time to time which is why he immediately turned it off when he noticed that it was activated. He felt bad that such a skill could manipulate people in the first place. Even though he couldn't see any use for it, Steel was stubborn and refused to change subclasses until he found a practical use for it. The reason being that an acquaintance of his from the Japanese server had told him that there was potential for every subclass.

It didn't take long for him to reach the gate leading to outside the safe zone and he proceeded to walk through the forest. After some time, Steel came across the sound of whacking and magic use. Steel rushed over and soon found the sight of a girl using Heretic skills and whacking a poor bunny with her scythe until it burst into anima fragments. The girl seemed to look tired as well as in pain afterwards though. After seeing this, Steel decided to walk over. "You sure look like you're having fun." He said to the girl as he approached her. Anima fragments were still floating upward in the air around her. "You look tired though, are you sure you're okay?" He asked a bit out of worry. Steel has met both good and crazy people of the Heretic class so he knew not to judge her based on it but he had to prepare himself in the case that he might be attacked. However, he didn't draw his swords or gun as he didn't want to start this off on the wrong foot. If he made any wrong moves, he might have to fight this girl. While the fight itself would be easy due to the huge level difference, him being level 32 and the girl being level 1, Steel would rather not have to send someone to the cathedral. "My name is Steel, what's your name?" Steel introduced himself in a friendly manner before asking curiously.

Words: 513
OOC: I'm going to be level 32 after my latest AP claim gets approved so I'm going with this

Princess Ozma

[Princess Ozma]

MADE MYSELF AT HOME IN THE COBWEBS AND THE LIES look what you made of me The bunny died. Painfully and horribly, blood splattered and dripped as she whittled away its life, the bunny died. It was anticlimactic really, the burst of particles that drifted about like snow. Ozma smiles, part in triumph and part in appreciation for the pretty little things, tired and worn from her struggle. But she had won, all by herself (she missed her summons desperately at times like this) with no one to share in her victory. Her stomach grumbled and she ignored it in favor of running her fingers through the sparkling glitter dust of life that had been a bunny once. It burned her hand as she touched it, the miasma in her body reacting to the anima until it glowed darkly. She snatched her hand back and clutched it to her chest; let the blade of her scythe slip into the dirt. Boil, bubble, toil, and trouble: they will kill her again if she can’t stop herself. A voice made her stop in her tracks, legs sprawled all akimbo as she tripped in her panic. She was caught, fair and square, right in the act of heresy. People die if they are killed, but Adventurers wake up in a Cathedral. Ozma knew better than anyone what the fate of a Heretic was, and tears sprang to her eyes as she looked upon the face of her murderer. Fun? This game wasn’t fun. It was kill or be killed, a desperate cycle of violence that was nothing but tragedy. “Ah! No, no, you’ve got the wrong idea!” She waved her arms frantically, tucked her legs under her as she stared up at the stranger. “I’m not tired! I’m just… um… a little bit lost?” Ozma was terrible at lying, honestly and truly, even in the face of a perfect stranger. (Steel, his name was Steel and he was so very many levels above her it wasn’t even funny.) Her scythe was on the ground next to her, the basic materials of the starter weapon looking like so much cheap plastic garbage. Ozma was pretty sure it wouldn’t even leave a smudge if she tried to smack him with it. But there was etiquette to this, one that had been super interesting to figure out. As long as she was in the body of her avatar, Hannah was Princess Ozma and she didn’t really want to find out what would happen if she said her name. “Ozma. I’m Princess Ozma.” There was another bit of etiquette to this exchange that she didn’t engage in as a rule, that crucial bit of gaming called ‘information sharing’. But she kept her mouth shut when she should have revealed her class and level, folded her legs to get to her feet and tried to look nonchalant about it. There would be no outrunning this person. “Are you… going to kill me? I don’t… I don’t want to die!” The unspoken ‘not again’ made the conversation just a little bit more awkward than it needed to be, balanced out by the loud growl of her stomach. Ozma blushed and folded her arms over her belly before bending down to pick up her scythe. She was starving and filthy from her fight and she knew it, but when faced with her own demise there was no choice. Besides, it wasn’t like she was looking forward to another meal of food that was nice to look at but tasted like nothing but wet cardboard. words 0578 tagged Steel notes behold the panic

CODED BY MIDDY OF GS

[Zyrune]

Gazing out through the vast lush green forest, Zyrune sat and enjoying the evening sun light filter though the trees. The grass was soft and comfortable and the sun cast an orange glow on the area.. Despite all his worries about this virtual world, he was quite astounded by how beautiful it was and how the actual game representation did it little to no justice.

Zyrune had explored the surrounding areas, he wanted to get in as much experience as possible and unfortunately anyone he had grown to know didn't share his ideas. Most his level were either too afraid to leave town for getting pk'd or killed by another player to leave or left when an adventure of high enough skill agreed to babysit their training sessions.

Despite being level one and having little to no attacks in his arsenal, Zyrune was sure if he played his skills right, he could take on low level monsters. He had gotten it down to a science at this stage. First he would find an enemy on their own, one that had drifted just enough away so that if he attacked, he wouldn't draw much agro from any others. Then from a distance he could attack one maybe twice with Brilliant Prism before it got close enough. Suffering an attack or two, he would cast Cure Bloom before binding the target to the ground with Willow Spirit. He would retreat somewhat and repeat the steps. It was taxing and he had to take long breaks between each enemy but he was making progress.

However his training session was soon coming to an end, Brilliant Prism although a decent attack move, it required a light source to use and once the sun retreated, he would have no means to attack. Sighing, he clutched his staff and rose. Still he was thankful he had even included an offensive move when starting. When he created Zyrune, he was simply a part of a team, a cog to be used in a greater goal. They were going to record the series as a team and just by chance he had included Brilliant Prism and now that he was trapped here, alone and no actually friends to count on, Zyrune thanked himself for his choice.

Frowning, he brushed his butt clean of any lingering dirt and turned, heading off towards the town. He still hadn't found a guild, well one that wasn't out to abuse his newbie status, hopefully he would be able to find a quite place to stay the night, monster hunting gave enough goal, but rooms in the taverns filled up quick and he needed money to buy new items. Pushing it aside he quickly lost himself in a daydream as he trudged back towards town, one of many he had started to have since becoming stuck here.

Most of the time they revolved around his sister, what he would say should he return to the his normal life or what they would do together. Though sometimes his daydreams caused him to worry, he often wondered what if it had been her and not him that had been trapped or what if she had created a new character, one that wasn't on his friends list and was currently trapped here. He shuddered at the thought, hoping and praying that it wasn't the case. He could deal with being here, once it meant that she was safe, if he found out she was here, he wondered if he could manage.

Right now he was playing solo so to speak, not a good role for a support role, but as long as he played it smart, thought about each move, each target and planned for everything that could go wrong, he might succeed. So far he had made it without dying and he planned to keep it that way. He had heard rumors that resurrection was possible, but still it was uncertain, how many lives did he have... one? A hundred? He couldn't know, nor could he know what the cost of dying would be. Would he keep his items, his experience?

A noise nearby broke his train of thought, coming to a halt. He clutched his staff tightly. It sounded... he didn't know what it sounded like to be honest. At best he assumed another player may be nearby, hopefully they wanted or needed a support, that way he could train some more. Plus he needed contacts, people he could trust during his stay here. Right now he had no one. Slowly and regretfully he began to move towards the area where he had heard the noise.

Eventually he came to a small clearing in the woods, two individuals could be seen. Judging from their clothes, he assumed them to be adventurers, players like himself, but still he couldn't be sure, they could have easily been people of the land. He wasn't close enough to hear everything, but one, a female waved her hands frantically, she seemed to be in a panic. Accessing the menu, Zyrune could see a significant level gap, which also confirmed that they were adventurers like himself. Still his heart jumped, perhaps he had stumbled onto something a little unsavoury. Biting his lip, he crept forward, hoping to learn more.

“Are you… going to kill me? I don’t… I don’t want to die!”

Zyrune's heart jumped. She expected the second player to kill her. Zyrune didn't understand what she could have done to deserve such a fate, but she looked awful, her class too was quite unfamiliar to him, perhaps this girl had been on the run for some time. There had been many a rumour among the weaker players that high level adventurers were hunting any weaker ones outside the safety of the town for sport. Player killers were disgusting creatures and he hated them, they ruined game-play for everyone and for what the thrill of hurting another.

Tightening his grip on his staff, he was sure that no matter what he did, surely the two of them would end up flat on the back, victims of this player killer. Visibly shaking, he stepped out from his hiding place. Thinking quickly, he hoped this wasn't what he thought, but signs were it looked like this guy was going to kill her. Her weapon lay at her feet, she was tired and torn apart, while he seemed confident. Zyrune was sure that he could give her a fighting chance, perhaps if she ran she could make it to town, player killing wasn't allowed within the towns borders. If he distracted the player, perhaps even used Willow Spirit to bind that high level character even for a few seconds, she might have a chance, a slim one but it was still a chance.

"You player killers should be ashamed of yourself!" He called hoping to catch attention from the high level player. If he was successful, the girl could run, he would then cast Willow Spirit. It was a long shot but with the player binded to the ground, even for a second, then maybe the two of them could lose him in the forest. He could cast Cure Bloom, maybe the floral aroma would further add to the distraction but he would have to play it by ear though.

Word Count: 1218 words

[Steel]

Man, she's a lousy liar. Steel thought to himself. And here I thought I was bad at it. Steel could obviously tell that this girl was panicking as she began to wave her arms frantically. She seemed scared for some reason. I can already guess why. Steel thought to himself. She thinks I'm going to PK her just because she's a Heretic. Oy vey, she must have been through a lot. Despite what this girl was thinking, he had no intention to hurt her at all. Somehow, she still managed to introduce herself as Princess Ozma although she kept glancing at her scythe, probably either thinking to attack him or that it wouldn't have much use in the first place. It was the Princess Steel just met began to just say her thoughts out loud and asked whether he would kill her. Steel could only sigh in response as he was about to say that he wasn't going to kill her. Before he could do even that however, a shout rang through the area.

"You player killers should be ashamed of yourself!" Steel glanced towards the newcomer and did a light face palm.

"Both of you are just plain idiots." Steel said in an annoyed tone as he drew one of his swords. "Kofuna Shizen Ryu: Samidare!" With that, he performed a kendo technique he had learned in the real world, the strike aimed towards Princess Ozma's direction. However, the girl herself was not the target and the blade of Steel's sword went past her face and struck a snake monster that was about to land a bite attack on the girl if not for Steel's sword piercing through it, causing the monster to burst into anima fragments. "Don't just assume that people are going to PK everyone they see." He said to the Druid standing a little but away as he sheathed his sword. He then turned to the Heretic and put his hand on her head to calm her down. "I'm not going to kill you, whether you're a heretic or not. If I was planning to kill you, you'd be at the cathedral already. Anyway, it's nice to meet you Princess." He said with a smile assuring her that he did not have those hateful feelings most other people had about Heretics. It was then he heard the girl's stomach growl. Steel laughed a little. "Well someone's hungry isn't she?" Steel said with a smile before taking something out of his bag. He soon took out a wrapped sandwich. "I was planning on saving this for lunch but you seem to need it more." He said as he held it out for the girl. "It's not much but it's at least better than that tasteless food."

OOC: Because the sandwich won't do anything, I think this should be fine.

Words: 459

Princess Ozma
Zyrune

[Zyrune]

"Both of you are just plain idiots."

The higher player spoke. Zyrune stood stunned by the comment still gripping his staff tightly. All in an instant, the player extended his weapon forward and uttered an attack. Zyrune waited for the girl to slump backwards, impaled with the incoming attack. About to react and cast a spell, he realised his was too late, it would hit her. But to his surprise he saw the flash pass just past the girl towards an enemy that must have creeped up on the them. It light up in an instant and just as fast it was gone from this world leaving behind anima fragments.

"Don't just assume that people are going to PK everyone they see."  The swashbuckler said casting his gaze towards Zyrune. Pursing his lips, the druid blushed, frozen until he broke into laughter."What was I supposed to think?" He managed between chuckles. It was true, no matter what way you looked at it, it did look worse then it appeared much to Zyrune's relief. "You are way too bad ass to take chances with."
Zyrune managed again gesturing to the black clothing. "Might want to through in some colour there." 

As Zyrune's laughter subsided, he watched the swashbuckler withdraw some food from his bag and offer it to the young girl. Taking a deep breath, he tried to regain his composure while watching to see if the girl took his food or not. Taking a few steps forward, the druid held out his staff and aimed it towards the girl.

"Cure Bloom!" Zyrune ordered as the girl erupted in a gentle pink mist. He knew it wouldn't heal much, at least not at his level. But it would help heal her slightly over time, plus the floral smell was always a plus.
While approaching them, Zyrune lowered his staff ready to cast cure bloom once the cool down had ended. "I've never seen someone of your class." He spoke to the girl, not sure what really was the matter with her. Surely she got those cuts from something and it couldn't have been the enemies in the area right? Zyrune stopped just short of the two unsure whether he should stay or go. He frowned taking in the girl before him, her skin and entire body seemed to have a dark aura, something was very wrong and it made him uneasy, he couldn't quite place it but he knew she was sick, but he couldn't tell in what way, Zyrune wasn't even aware adventurers could fall sick. However the more experienced swashbuckler appeared much more at ease and friendly closer than he did far away. 


Steel Princess Ozma

Word Count: 445 

[Princess Ozma]

i fear the fever It knows the weakness deep in my soul; It keeps me hostage; I'm never alone [attr="class","postm"] There was always a certain estimable level of panic that a human being could manage before giving up the proverbial ghost. She had never managed to hit that level of panic before in her life, instead preferring to keep to a strict regime of meditation and medication to keep her balanced. Hannah doesn’t know when the last time she could go without taking a handful of pills like other girls her age ate Skittles, but she hasn’t had to take one since this incident. She’s lost, so lost, and it is no one’s fault but hers. She should have stayed put. Should have, would have, but didn’t bother when faced with the glimmer of sunlight that peeked at her fingers. Run, run, little girl lest the sun burn you alive. They call them the Children of the Night, the forever pale children who can only dance and play in moon and star light. It takes an awful lot of money to keep them alive, pretty little things that can never leave their gilt covered cages without pain and suffering. Hannah hasn’t seen the sun in the length of her memory, windows long since boarded and covered with thermal drapes. Hannah Williams was not a social creature by the very nature of her illness. She lived in books and magazines, relished the limits of the Internet once she was old enough to navigate it. Now she dwells in Elder Tale, reaping the consequences of her own actions. Her name is Ozma, and she has died countless times for the relative sin of existing. And it isn’t surprising that human beings that bore miasma had bounties on their heads, nor was it surprising that her first reaction was never going to be unbridled trust. The sun was a necessary thing to survive, and it was out to kill her just as surely as the People of the Land. And People of the Land gave quests to Adventurers for money and gold… She didn’t want to lose more than she already had. Hannah was born in… Wales. She had never had a pet and lived alone with her brother in a tiny apartment with boarded windows and her parents had loved her very much before they died. Ozma had a middle name once, but that wasn’t important enough to keep. And so she had developed a kneejerk reaction to the sound of ‘Ozma’ and ‘Princess’ when compared to being addressed as ‘Heretic’ or ‘girl’. Trust no one, not even when they came bearing sandwiches and smiles, and no one could take Hannah away from Ozma. The miasma sings in her blood and she focuses on the thrill of battle that still thrums in the tips of her fingers. There are two of them now and she is desperate to listen over the pounding blood in her ears. Tick tock, tick tock, down counts the timer as she claps a hand to her mouth and tries to scoop up her scythe with her foot. Tick tock, tick tock. The trick is to keep your mouth shut, shrink down and become nothing more than background static, to let the thrumming in your veins pull you in. Ozma was good at letting the miasma that always lingered in her tattoos and eyes flicker fast and low, pulling on her clever threads of plans without a sound. She let her fingers tighten on her scythe, skin going whiter than milk as the sword flashed past. Danger, danger, for there is special providence in the fall of a sparrow. Tick tock, tick tock goes the clock she watches out of the corner of her eye. She keeps her hand over her mouth even as the tears threaten to spill down her cheeks. The miasma makes her cry blood at this stage, this precarious dance between levels three and four. But she needs it and it needs her. The world shines pink and the blood on her fingers goes drip, drip, dry. But the time counts down to zero and the terror kicks in. Her brother called it an emergency spell, that special skill all new Adventurers should know. It was a strange spell; one she learned how to recast after far too many incidents with People of the Land and their overzealous need to punish her for things that weren’t her fault. “Call of Home,” she whispers as the two bicker, screwed up her eyes and tried to pretend this wasn’t happening. Tick tock, tick tock tick- There are no words to describe the rush of terror that faced her once she arrived in her home city. Keep her hood up and the miasma reined in, and run like you have a place to be. She’s got a head start on the headhunt and she’ll take it for as long as she can. [attr="class","wordm"]words [attr="class","wordm2"]0805 [attr="class","wordm"]tags [attr="class","wordm2"]Steel Zyrune [attr="class","notem"]notes [attr="class","notem2"]ozma’s out bai

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