[hider=OOC]Just closing off the conversation between Morningstar and Grey :) . Roll on the shutdown![/hider]

Ruin frowned lightly at Grey. Perhaps he was a bit out of sorts; everyone posed for a photograph. Even if it was only to smile brightly. “[b]I thought the whole point of this get-together was to be with other players at the end of the world? I'm not a guildmember; given the current settings I couldn't follow you to the throne room if I wanted to – and, looking around...[/b]” a casual flick of her fingers brought up both the local and global player lists, both of them slowly ticking down as more and more players called it a final night. “[b]...it seems that most of your fellow guildmates have already gone, and more are going by the second.[/b]” A shrug and an elegant resorting of ruffled wings. 

“[b]Still, if you [i]do[/i] wish to be alone and reminisce on the glories of your guild, then far be it for me – or anyone else – to stop you. I'll simply take the opportunity now and wish good luck to you in your future endeavours.[/b]” A little half-bow – ridiculous formality to many, perhaps, but Ruin had always liked a certain degree of formality. “[b]It's been fun, Lord Grey. It really has.[/b]” 

Privately, she wondered if she'd ever bump into him again. It was vanishingly unlikely in the [i]real[/i] world, of course; the teeming millions in every arcology assured that, if nothing else. Games-wise, it was more possible, although she knew little enough of his habits outside of Yggdrasil itself, and to say what hyper-real offering – if any – would draw his attention and his time was anyone's guess.

Nothing had really taken her fancy yet, so there'd be no cheery 'I'm still around on Asgardia, catch me there sometime!' either. Many of the more recent games were just too gritty, too urban, too gorged on gratuitous violence and – crucially – too focused on the grinding hopelessness of their settings and stories for her tastes. Real life was already quite grim enough, in her view, particularly if you took the global view, but nonetheless grimdark gaming was in the ascendant and so there was simply a paucity of titles for [i]her[/i].

The less said about World of Ponies the better.

Shaking herself slightly, Ruin idly took in the ballroom once more. It was definitely emptier than it had been, even with the guild NPCs valiantly doing their best to maintain the party atmosphere; only the truly dedicated remained – and what an interesting bunch they were. A lizardman, almost comically out of place amidst the white marble and fine furniture, for one, then the moody and brooding Sycthe – looking like a skeletally-malevolent, dark reflection of an angel, complete with blackened and shadowy wings, Reidy, of course – if he had a tail, surely it would always be wagging – and a possible evil sorceress. Her outfit was [i]certainly[/i] skimpy enough for it, and the collection of skulls at her belt was another pointer – but no, apparently she classed as a Witchblade. A rare – vanishingly rare, in truth, one of only a hundred across the entire game world - empowered leech, draining life and magic with her ensorcelled blade, and clearly a skilled one at that. Not that there were any [i]unskilled[/i] witchblades, to her knowledge – the class prerequisites rather excluded it.

They were, therefore, the very devil to fight – provided you didn't engage and destroy at range, closing them down without allowing them the opportunity to sap their opponents and empower themselves.