Azide

With a casual flit, Azide threw a glance to the furthest corner of his vision; he smiled upon confirming the time, and stretched his arms out wide as he sauntered on through the still-open gate. By the time he reached the rest of the group, his ears perked at the creak of a rusty hinge, followed by the hollow thud of gateway slamming shut. "You guys didn't really sit out here for the full two days, did you?" he asked, as he folded his arms across his chest. Brown eyes darted between the faces of all of those who'd assembled in the mostly-barren field, recognizing the look on some of those as a familiar sentiment: boredom.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to tremble and shake- although unsurprisingly, such theatrics seemed to elicit more muted reactions than they had in the past. With an apparent inability to actually topple any of them, the tremor of these titans had long since been accepted as more of a scare tactic than anything else. The PumpKing ascended from the loose soil in all of its putrid glory, before ascending once more- this time, to the throne. A tarnished crown appeared where one might expect to find a toughened stem.

 After a bit of scuffling done from both sides, three of the King's underlings lay dead and buried. Calrex stood injured, albeit on his feet all the same; though his injuries were not insignificant, his job had been done. With the threat of casualty lifted, it would only be a matter of cleaning up from here on out.

Azide freed Chemikaze from its place at his hip with a clean flick of his wrist. Fallen leaves the color of a fading day crackled and crunched beneath his boots as he shifted his stance, and the long blade of the dark knife glinted in the autumn light. The young man's fingers clenched tighter around the grip of dagger entrenched between them as he his eyes narrowed at the sight of the rotting, colossal gourd. In a burst of movement, the colors of autumn shot into the air, leaving a fluttering wake of red, brown, yellow and orange as Azide raced forward.

Once. Twice. Thrice- then once again, just to seal the deal. A quadruple axle rotation as he hurtled past the flank of the King left behind an equivalent number of long, gaping gashes down the side of the creature's rotting flesh.

---
ID: 37193 | BD: 4 + 3 = 7 (Hit)

<<Eternal Cyclone>> used = (4 x 4) [10 + 3 (Charge R3)] = 208

208 - 15 MIT = 193 DMG

«HP»: 981/1300
«Mitigation»: 15

Scarecrow: 80/80
Scarecrow: 80/80
Scarecrow: 80/80
Scarecrow: 80/80
Scarecrow: 80/80
Scarecrow: 80/80
Scarecrow: 80/80

(Enemy)
Calrex - Health: 96/189 Energy: 46/46 Hate: 3
Teayre - Health: 137/137 Energy: 33 Hate: 0
Ariel - Health: 145/145 Energy: 35/35 Hate: 0
Kalesh - Health: 92/92 Energy: 23/23 hate: 0
(Enemy)
Lowenthal - Health: 97/97 Energy: 23 Hate: 1
Ssendom - Health:170/130 Energy:18 Hate: 2
Opal - Health:96/96 Energy:24 Hate: 0
Zelrius - Health:145/145 Energy:35 Hate: 0
(Enemy)
Azide - Health:133/133 Energy:16/32 Hate: 1
Tristan - Health:136/136 Energy:34 Hate: 0
Rebekah - Health: Energy: Hate: 0
Jomei - Health:97/97 Energy:23 Hate: 0

There it was again- the unmistakable scent of smoke in the air; his nose twitched as it caught a whiff of a breezed subtlely singed. With a casual turn of his head, Azide peered upriver with a look over his shoulder. But even then, his eyes could not pierce through the night time obscurity, and he doubted that they would pick up on very much even if that were not the case. Though he himself was effectively blinded within the current environment, the same could not be said of Calrex- who at the moment did not seem overly concerned by whatever it was that lay ahead. "But what was it that he said about his skills? That there was a certain limit to their range?" 

Then again, he had spent the better part of this night in a state of near-paranoia. The village was lit by plenty of torches and candles- it was only inevitable that he would pick up on their scent at least on occasion. To even that explanation one better, it was entirely possible that the aroma was concocted entirely by his own brain; the ultramarine knight had made no indication of detecting it thus far- there was no reason to believe that this was not simply a classic case of phantosmia, perhaps triggered by stress or a lack of sleep.

"Just be sure to invite me to the wedding," said Azide, lifting his hands from the makeshift crossbar. He gave a shrug and a smile, before gripping the length of the oar once more. With confirmation of the pair's relationship being a only a recent discovery, the comment was made more in jest than anything- but if there were to be such a ceremony, he wondered who Calrex might choose as his best man. Would it be Oikawa? And more importantly, would Seijuro make his return for such an occasion? Perhaps it was by making noise that they would coax from hiding those who'd slipped out of sight...

He shook his head, clearing his throat as the man followed up with a question of his own. Looking someone beyond the blue-haired man, Azide paused to consider the light-hearted inquiry. As his musing came to a close, his eyes flickered back to life, and he returned them fully to the other player's attention. "Anyone interested in me?" he repeated. His fingers gripped the wooden pole just a little bit harder, before relenting. As he spoke, the digits of his dominant hand drummed repeatedly in lockstep, as if he were rehearsing a particularly interesting arpeggio on his parents' grand piano. "I guess you could say that it wouldn't be out of the question."

This was the place where it had all began. Azide shot a glance to his left, followed by another to his right; eyes a stolid brown swept the vicinity, bringing into his sights every player and building that fell into the range of his vision. He was no Calrex- the soft glow of <<Reveal>> did not fill his irises, nor was he even an X- searching and detecting was not something he considered to be his forte. But traits like those were superficial in nature; they were nothing more than the removal of arbitrary limitations imposed by both the game and the system which supported it.

Being observant was not something in this world that was determined by numbers or rolls. That sort of trait was something entirely out of the hands of CARDINAL, but well within the hands of a young man such as Azide. In his visual sweep of the bustling town square, he spotted not only the player whom he'd been arranged to meet, but also every face and sign of every building which his gaze had crossed- if even for only an instant.

There was the spot he'd been standing when Kayaba had made his now-infamous announcement; he could still identify the very set of tiles that he'd first spawned over by the distinctive pattern of cracks which textured their surface. Perhaps it was a side effect of having been in the middle of a study session beforehand, but when he'd first looked down, the cracks had reminded him of the structure of a very specific macromolecule.

Then there was the Starlight Cafe; it was a location he associated closely with several colorful characters. Lucifer, X, and Oikawa- all three other co-founders of his previous venture had encountered each other for the first time within its walls. Even after that meeting, it'd become a recurring locale for each of them, as well as many of those who associated with them; Calrex, Teayre, Alyss, Baldur, Rebekah and even Adelyn had all paid visits over the seasons.

His eyes had also taken note of the alleyway where he had first met the young man known as Raeyliff, as well as the bench where the lady Alyss had first been sitting on as she'd gawked at a freshly born rainbow which had painted itself in watercolors across the backdrop of a cloud-strewn sky.

But most relevantly to more current times, there stood Ariel, precisely at the intersection of the coordinates which she had specified. It was a curious thing, to give coordinates for a meet-up; usually, exact points like that were given only when precision was of immense importance. It'd come as a surprise when he'd discovered that hers had belonged to none other than the town square. Even so, it was rude to keep anybody waiting- lady or not.

"It's been a long time since we've met up for something other than a commission or a quest," remarked Azide, as he stepped out from behind her, wearing a curious smile. 

"All I can say is that if you ever need to find me, and for some reason, you can't get a hold of my location data, then you know which floor not to check," said Azide, as his eyes caught sight of a familiar piece of rubble lying half-sunk within the sand by his feet. A flicker of recognition lit his eyes for just a moment as he promptly identified the object; it was the very same skull which Opal had earlier launched with a casual punt. He'd remembered darting his eyes over just in time to witness the artifact go flying into the air, only to be eaten up by a passing sandstorm which had rolled in from seemingly out of thin air. Just as quickly as the phenomena had come, it'd left only a few minutes later, before they'd even had a chance to set foot into the whirling winds.

 With a shrug of his shoulders, Azide took several paces towards the withered skull before scooping it into the air with a swift swing of his leg. He watched as the object took flight, and hurtled through the uncovered skies of the desert floor. With the bone-laden terrain that they had slowly transitioned to during their journey, it would be a pointless labor to pick out which of the mementos it was that they had treated with such respect. But as he traced the arc and path of the airborne skull, his thousand-mile stare fell upon a far off portion of the dusty field ahead. Where the air had previously been clear, if not heavy with rippling heat, a veil of swirling sand had raced in to obscure the distant patch of land. Only moments later, the old skull was swallowed whole by the impromptu storm, disappearing from view.

He shot a quick glance over at Opal as he recalled the details which had been recited to him on behalf of brokering parties. "Speaking of soon, I don't think it'll be much longer before we walk away from all of this with a couple more skill points under our belts." Azide gave a slight nod in the direction of the dust cloud, which continued to stubbornly persist, in spite of the raging currents. "And just to give you a heads-up, I'd like to ask that you take the first swing at our friend the Butcher," he began, giving a pat to the sheath at his side. "We dagger-users don't exactly have the most reliable stunning abilities, so I'm counting on you to incapacitate him for one round when the time comes."

OOC: Apologies for the scrub-tier post, had to grind this out without any muse xD

 "Two days?" muttered Azide. Brow furrowed and eyes narrowed, he peered around to see that his peers had apparently accepted the completely preposterous waiting period without so much as a bat of an eye. Like hell was he going to sit around on some pumpkin for a full forty-eight hours doing absolutely nothing. His gaze lingered for a while on the gates which had come loose as the which had spoken her thanks.

A hand dragged across empty air, triggering the appearance of a faintly glowing panel. A few taps later, and both the current time and location were recorded neatly into his personal records. Judging from the NPC's script, those very same gates would likely remain open until the full forty-eight hours had elapsed, sealing inside all of those who had entered- similar to the heavyset doors which had previously closed many of them inside with the likes of the Forsaken Crusader.

Azide dismissed the screen with a prompt swipe of his hand, casting a glance at the largest of the pumpkins situated in the distance, before turning around. Perhaps his colleagues possessed inhuman levels of both patience and stamina, but he had neither the time nor the desire to waste two days standing in a field. With that, the young man took his leave from the scene.

Two day's time would pass, regardless of whether he spent it here, or in a location of his own choosing. He would meet the King of Pumpkins when the time came, and no sooner.

Stats:

Level: 32 | HP: 133 | Energy: 32

Damage: 10 | Paralyze: 1 | Savvy: 1

Mitigation: 0 | Accuracy: 3 | Evasion: 4

Skills:

One-Handed Dagger (R5) | Charge (R3)

Athletics | Precision | Sprint & Acrobatics

Concentration | Survival

Equipment:

Chemikaze: +2 Damage, +1 Paralyze

Heisenberg's Uncertainty: +2 Evasion, +1 Savvy

Schrodinger's Pendant: +2 Accuracy, +1 Evasion

Uniform of the Knight: N/A

Familiar:

Lucifer: +1 Damage

Though their paths had crossed but a handful of times, Zelrius was the sort of player whose reputation preceded him; it had been clear from the very start that he was not the sort of guy who would be winning any awards for humility. Even in the handful of times that they had met, he'd neither seen nor heard anything that would make him think otherwise of the Commandant's infamous haughtiness. Even with the ridiculous artifact he wore as a helmet, the young man's cold smirk seemed to always find a way through the crevices of the hydra's skull.

Taking a cue from Calrex, Azide returned his paddle to the quiet waters and compensated the angle of their bow as directed. As an untrained rower, he was positive that the methodology he employed was neither nuanced nor graceful, but it seemed to at least be doing the job. And to his credit, Calrex was doing a fine job in maintaining his faith- they had not crashed even once, despite the blindness of the one doing the steering. There'd been a close call towards the beginning, but after that, it'd all been smooth sailing.

With a rotation of the pole, the paddle's blade position shifted from stubborn resistance to a much more passive relent; the flat of the oar sliced through the water like a wedge, allowing him to led it tread through the stream without significantly altering their direction. "Takao's got a good head on his shoulders," he offered. They had not really had much of an opportunity to familiarize themselves, in spite of the several times they'd teamed up for various quests and the like. Short work had been made of Cerberus, the Iron Guardian, and even the Sea Wyvern- all in part because of the efforts of one of Aincrad's rising stars. "I'd like to see how he handles himself when it's time to face the God of the Swamp."

Guessing that no more further adjustments were necessary in the near future, Azide dragged the paddle back into the boat, before leaning his forearms against its length as if it were a railing. Even in the darkness, he noticed the way the swordsman's face had grown a few shades lighter upon hearing the inquiry. Azide gave a slight tilt of his head as his lips twitched into a grin, and amusement flickered in his eyes like the dancing flames which accompanied many a window sill in the creekside village. "To be honest, I had no idea that you had a lady friend. Of course, I had my suspicions when I noticed how close you two were back at the Himawari Cafe..." he remarked, as he lifted a hand to cradle his chin. "But I hadn't finished putting two and two together until after I caught a glimpse of you guys at the Starlight Cafe." A finger stroked his chin as he gauged the young man's reaction.

"Also, just knight and fair maiden?" he asked. "I'm not going to lie, that's almost too precious."

A brief glimpse of Opal's face revealed that it was flush, and the observation raised a brow on his own face. "You alright over there?" asked Azide. The young lady had coughed dryly before trailing off, and he had to wonder if perhaps the heat was getting to her. Admittedly, he was not exactly enjoying the desert life himself- but as far as he could tell, neither the heat nor the sand-laced winds were of any serious concern to those who had claimed the Survival skill. That didn't necessarily make them any less unpleasant- the discomfort was all too real, and it showed in the sheer frequency with which he found himself lifting a hand to wipe the glistening sheen from his brow.

From there, he listened as the woman effective pledged her loyalty to the Knights of the Blood, and nodded at her promise. If he were to be true to himself, he would admit that he himself was still not entirely sure of what he wanted- either from this guild, his position within it, or even from this world as a whole. His application to the Knights had been a leap of faith, or perhaps the leap of an air-logged fish flopping into the first body of water that it could find. While it remained to be seen whether that body was an ocean or a shallow puddle, he could appreciate her devotion nonetheless.

It was looking like that time again- trails of sweat lined his face, making it look as if it were a field freshly plowed. He blinked his eyes thrice in quick succession, raising an arm only when his vision remained just as blurry. With the end of his sleeve, he dabbed at his eyes and forehead as Opal steered the conversation towards their enigmatic leader. "While it's true that I would also like to see the Commander marching alongside us, it has not escaped me that the man who leads us is a deliberate one indeed. I have reason to believe that Commander Heathcliff is capable of holding his own against the best and brightest among us," he remarked, drawing upon a few tidbits that he had picked up here and there. It was all very much conjecture, and transitive conjecture at that, but it was unlikely that the Crimson Knight would be a slouch on the battlefield.

"But at the same time, history has shown that the player known as Heathcliff has been absent from each and every raid. And while it might be a simple matter to claim that the earliest raiders simply forgot his face, I think we can both agree that our Commander is not the easiest man to overlook. So I can only conclude that, at least for the time being, we will be attending in his place."

Opal voiced her uncertainty as to what she should be searching for, and he gave yet another nod of his head. "If these brokers are worth their salt, then what we're looking for is a large ring of spears implanted in the ground, former a makeshift arena. The site was last reported to be somewhere within the northern desert, hence the reason we departed from the northernmost gate."

"I have a strong suspicion that even if we were to convince our colleagues to unite behind a singular leader, a certain golden-haired young man would find himself as the front-runner for that position." He was referring, of course, to the de-facto leader of Aincrad's most renowned guild; it seemed unnecessary to use the name outright, as every credible member of the clearing group was deeply familiar with the exploits of the veteran front-liner. With that kind of mass exposure, alongside a reputation of nigh-invulnerability, the former Blood Buccaneer would no doubt be an obvious candidate as far as the general populace was concerned.

He lifted his hands from the resting oar, before laying his elbows across the length of its pole. Folding his fingers together, the slender digits intertwined, and he fidgeted the pair closest to him as a memory came flickering into the eye of his mind. "Then again, perhaps this young man isn't quite as untouchable as I'd once thought. Not on the battlefield, mind you- his record there is quite good, from what I've been able to find. But I'm referring to the once-unshakable faith which had been given to him from the community itself." Azide gave a tilt of his head, but did not lift his eyes from the man in front of him. "If you'll recall the previous raid meeting, there were definitely a few signs that his armor was cracking. While Mack was quick to offer praise, both Lowenthal and a red-haired girl expressed their dissatisfaction with his capabilities as a leader." He scratched his head, but quickly returned his fingers to their interlaced position as he shifted in his seat. "In any case, Takao was quick to shut things down before it could become a proper fiasco. The way I see it, the events of that day could be seen as either a litmus, or an outlier. But take from that incident what you will."

Azide glanced around, his eyes surveying the shadowed edges of the water. Where were they right now, exactly? It was a mystery to him; although to be fair, even if it were not so dark, the twelfth floor could hardly be considered a very familiar one to him. But for now, he supposed the issue wasn't of any particular concern. For now, he could instead take comfort in the fact that no swarm of mosquitoes had immediately descended upon them the moment they stepped off of dry land. Perhaps they were driven off by the occasional smoke which had been drifting in this very direction. And come to think of it, there was the smell of smoke once again- it seemed awfully prevalent for a few burning torches, and made him cough into his sleeve.

"I suppose the train has already left the station when it comes to the twelfth floor boss raid- meaning that we should aim to present our ideas during the following meeting. It'll be easier to curry favor with the majority if you first raise the idea to those you trust- appearances matter, and it'd be best for our cause to have some support right out the gate when the time comes." A frown came upon his face as Calrex made a passing reference to the state of their physical bodies. He wondered if his parents had bothered to step in when the news had broke- but then again, of course they had. It would be terrible publicity for the Navarres if they hadn't come rushing to the aid of their only son with all of their bundles of money; he wouldn't be surprised if they'd made a donation towards the care of other victims as a gesture of goodwill.

Making every attempt to wipe the downward tug on the far corners of his lips, he met only a partial success, ending up with more of a neutral-looking expression than anything. "Speaking of that red-headed girl, I don't suppose you two are an item?" asked Azide, although his tone was more declarative than interrogative. After all, from what he remembered, the two had opted to share a seat, even when seats had not been in short supply.

Words were spoken, just as they always were; that in itself was not something new. All day and everyday, people said all sorts of stuff, and claimed all sorts of things. But these statements she shared- they seemed genuine, and showed signs of a silent sincerity. Azide looked to the woman as she shared with him her story, his expression stolid and steady. But rather than the uniform that the woman addressed, it was her eyes that he met. She wore a golden stare, which in spite of its gleam, bore even still the subtle signs of a tarnishment since past. To these polished orbs, he turned his own eyes- sharp and cool. Despite their steeliness, a warm ring of color stood at their centers, gazing outward while revealing nothing of what lay behind them.

"I'm not going to tell you that the past is unimportant; if you're ever in need of that sort of empty rhetoric, feel free to drop by any corner downtown and take your pick of the Chinese buffets," remarked Azide. He recalled having bitten off the corner of one of those curiously shaped cookies, only to have spat it out into a nearby napkin upon finding it stale and unpleasantly sweet. But this was not about day-old deserts, or even the nonsensical gibberish which had been waiting for him inside of the so-called 'treat'. "What I'm getting at is that whatever may have transpired before today- it's all old news, and it'll only get older from here. So while you may not have been the type of girl my mother would've approved of..." he trailed off, with an airy laugh. "It's not nearly as important as how you are now. And besides..." he added, shrugging his shoulders. "You'll never truly be alone. Not as long as the Knights are around."

His eyes darted around the uniformity of the desert, surveying the surrounding area for any signs of interest. For now, all he could see was the same sand that had been prevalent on this floor from the very moment he'd arrived. That, and the occasional cactus standing in the distance. With a sigh, he returned his full attention to Opal, and noticed that she had since taken the end of a fingernail between her teeth. She couldn't be nervous, could she?

Whatever the reason, he listened as the woman returned to expression, speaking first of her own actualizations, followed soon after by earnest aspirations. As these too came to an end, he found himself nodding- the core of her message was one that struck a chord with him. It had not been too long ago that he too had realized the need for stability in this uncertain world.

"If that's what you truly desire, then I ask only that you lend the full extent of your passion to the Knights of the Blood. Let that fervor be observed just by Heathcliff, or even myself, but by all of those who have yet to join us- as well as those who sympathize with our cause. I think you'll come to find that we're not so different when it comes to our goals in this world." He slid his hands from his neck, and stowed them away in the pockets of his jacket. "Maybe I'm just too too proud, but I was never going to sit back and leave my fate up to the Azure Brigade. Aincrad has long been overdue for a second entity capable of leading it."

Within the folds of his pockets, Azide could feel his fingers curl and tense as he aimed his gaze skyward, before returning it to the woman dressed in red and white. "It might not mean much, coming from someone who never had the chance to meet your master- but I feel as if Myoga would be proud of the woman you've become, and even prouder of the one you're becoming."

He could've argued the finer points with the man- could've pointed out that each person added to the leadership would be yet another variable when so many of their numbers were already an uncertainty. In any machine reliant on so many cogs, it took only one with rust to bring the whole process to a grinding halt; they could not afford to play the game of hoping that those in power would not suddenly go missing, or even simply lose interest. Even in more recent times, time had proven to be the enemy of what had once been the most rapidly growing guild- the Crimson Blades. The eventual lull of the Blades served only as a reminder that even those showing the most exuberance and promise were not immune to the weariness that nipped at their heels. 

In a system like that, a wider leadership would be nothing more than a show- something that they could pat themselves on the back about at the end of the day. But it could never be much more than just that; progress would be too slow, and the logistics would likely prove to be unsustainable. Under the banner of a single figure, decisions could be made quickly- not to mention that should they waver in their commitment, it would take only a fraction of the time and effort to replace them, as opposed to the constant shuffling they'd no doubt experience with a panel.

What's more, Aincrad was not entirely unfamiliar with the idea of unilateral leadership; both Mari and Lessa had led their guilds unflinchingly, with no council or analog of any sort that could challenge their oversight. True, these guilds were not exactly among the most active as of late, but he felt it was fair to say that they'd enjoyed just as much success as the majority of the guilds in this world- which seemed to come and go as often as the day. 

But he held his tongue, because ultimately, Calrex was not wrong. It didn't matter how much thought or consideration that he had put into these ideas; Azide was only one man on his own. The issue was not in his hands, but rather, the hands of all those who he would have to convince. How likely did they seem to welcome the ascension of a top dog amongst their ranks?

A simple nod acknowledged the concerns of his guest as valid. "It's too easy sometimes... to forget that your own thoughts are often a world apart from those of everyone around you. I'll admit, the road towards a more centralized leadership is looking to be a steep one at the moment." He paused, considering his response to the man's final question. Who would be tall enough to fill the shoes of this hypothetical individual? "As much as I'd like to give you an answer on that, I'm at a loss for any specific suggestions. I'm afraid I'll need more time to figure out which of the front-liners I'd be willing to stand behind."

ID: 33652 | CD: 10 (Not blown back)
BD: 9 (Crit +1)

It was of no importance whether or not a bird had knees- Ziz had been brought to them regardless, clinging to the last remaining slivers of its health bar. It no longer seemed to matter how many wings the colossal creature possessed; they'd all been clipped just the same. There was no grace in the desperate flailing of its talons, each careless strike looking as if it would've had trouble hitting the broadside of a barn, and failing to come within even a few meters of the gathered trio.

When the dust had settled, he saw that Ziz had not even made an attempt to retreat- had it perhaps resigned itself to its fate? In any case, Rebekah had missed her opportunity to bring the occasion to an end; with the three of them all in good standing, it would ultimately be a bigger blow to their patience than their safety.

With little energy left to work with, he held no illusions of vanquishing Ziz with his next maneuver, or even the next ten after that. He braced himself in the face of an oncoming wind, refusing to budge as the beast made every attempt to incapacitate him with every anguished flap of its massive wings. His eyes narrowed on the ailing avian, and he tightened his hold on the dagger in his hand as a sloppily aimed gust was thrown right over his head. It rustled his hair, but failed to have the same effect on the player himself.

In that moment of opportunity, Azide raced forward and shot through the air. Spinning once, his knife found the exposed underbelly of Ziz, leaving a trail of orange where the blade had struck. As his boots struck the ground, so too did Ziz. Falling somewhere between a shriek and a yelp, the once-proud creature gave a shrill cry as it fell from the skies.

10 (Base damage) + 1 = 11 
11 - 60 MIT = 1 DMG

HP List
Calrex: 177/177 | Front
   Energy: 13/43
Rebekah: 126/126 | Front
   Energy: 13/29
Azide: 129/129 | Front
   Energy: 1/31 (+1)(-1)

Enemies:
Ziz: 10/500 (-1) [Paralyzed]

"Speaking as someone who once made daily use of a council, I can vouch for the merits of a group-based system. Square One existed for only a handful of months, but I'd like to think that it accomplished a respectable amount in the time that it'd been around. Then again, with people like Rebekah and Oikawa at my side, it's not hard to see why we never encountered any of the difficulties that would normally accompany that sort of implementation." He had neglected to mention the council's final member- X, and not because he'd simply forgotten the rambunctious young man. No, X was not the sort of person you simply forgot. But he was not above leaving out a few details, as long as it made for an easier path towards illustrating his point.

Again, he shot a cursory glance behind him, spotting yet another low-hanging branch just in time duck beneath its sweeping range. With that out of the way, he dipped the paddle briefly into the water and gave a handful of strokes to the left of the hull before before retrieving it. As the oar was lifted from the mild current, he watched idly as slick beads rolled across the the smooth face of the whittled blade. As they fell, they left ripples upon the surface- nearly imperceptible in the darkness, but the soft plop of speckled droplets assured him that they were there. For all of its faults, the world was a remarkable one; he wondered what the man Kayaba might be like. He supposed that he should hate the man who had claimed their lives as his own, but a part of him was admittedly intrigued by the enigma of his character; the sort of madman who could create a world such as this was still a genius nonetheless.

Resting the wooden rod against the framework of the canoe, he realized that he had dazed off yet again, and wondered if the other passenger had noticed. Though a lack of sleep was not exactly unfamiliar to him, this was only the latest in a series of late nights. Regardless, he lifted his eyes back to meet the faintly glowing set of Calrex. "Like I was saying, groups can often be a fine idea- and I'm not opposed to council-like organizations in the least. But in the context of leading front-lining efforts? I myself would favor uniting behind a single, trusted, figure. Leadership on this scale has to be sleek and lean- we can't afford to have our momentum slowed to a crawl by a sluggish bureaucracy." He leaned forward in his seat, keeping his weight balanced upon the wooden dowel. "It'd be too much of a hassle to elect people in and out of such a group, in an effort to maintain active representatives. And even if we could manage that in a timely manner, the issue of properly representing solo players would almost assuredly be a divisive one." 

His eyes fell upon the small trinket which Calrex had produced- it was a simple thing, and a familiar shade which glinted as it caught the light. As dark as it was, he recognized the color as the one worn most often by the blue-haired swordsman himself. Before long, the crest disappeared in a flash of light, and he was left staring at nothing. "I think an overarching alliance is definitely the place to start. But it's easy to declare an ally in name- how do you suppose we'd get people to actually believe in them?

A few quick taps was all it took to disappear the bottle from his hands; in a flash, the object faded to a silhouette of white, before blinking out of site. With so many days in the field, it was not surprising that his body had become intimately familiar with the motions. After all- if he were to die in this world, he'd prefer it if the reason wasn't something along the lines of retrieving his items too slowly. The last thing he needed for his legacy was to be remembered as the guy whose unfamiliarity with the in-game menu caused to him to draw a sandwich from his inventory instead of a crystal.

"If you had to wear any uniform out into the desert, that would probably be the one to take," quipped Azide. "Dressing light- in every sense of the word, really. For a place like this, there's not much I could complain about." The new look was considerably more flamboyant than the plain black sweater she'd first worn to their duel- although aspects of the young lady's battle armor from that encounter carried over in ways which they'd both already alluded to. His eyes drifted to the lengthy blade balanced upon the crook of her shoulder- the thing had be as long as several of his serpentine familiars on end. Subtle did not seem like a word to be using when describing Opal.

With a lift of his hands, he pulled them into an easy shrug. "As far as fashion goes, I'm about as conservative and old-fashioned as it gets around these parts. And although I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this, believe me when I say that the clothes we wear are hardly a good judge of character." Despite not having declared it outright, the woman had seemed almost jaded when describing her usual wears. He wondered if perhaps she'd been on the receiving end of one too many comments from both men and women alike- he knew how they could be. "Some of the finest men and women I've ever known were dressed in clothing that most people would probably use to mop up a spill without so much as a second thought. By all means, those dresses and shirts should've been tatters- but you'd be damned to spot even the smallest of holes in them. It got to the point where it was pointless trying to figure out where the original fabric ended and where the patches began; they might as well have been wearing quilts. But for what little they had, you can be sure as hell that they took care of it. Those patches were like badges to these people." 

Lifting his head, his eyes stared out into sky. It was almost blinding, without the protection of shade- but he could make out the shapes of two creatures circling above them. It would be ignorant to call them mobs- they were, after all, still within the confines of a safe zone. But he recognized the pair of dark shapes; they were vultures. With a sigh, he lowered his gaze back to the young lady.

"On the other hand, I'm sure you're familiar with those big brands that everybody seemed to go crazy over back on the other side. I love an Armani suit as much as the next guy, but then you've got names like Gucci and Prada, or Chanel and Louis Vuitton. But you could dress a hog with a hundred layers of any of from the bunch, and all you'd end up with is one overdressed pig. I knew people just like that; they were a reckless sort that would muck up everything, and then scurry off to hide behind their piles and piles of money. Everything that ever came into their hands came back out broken, and they would toss it aside. The next day there'd just something else sitting in its place, as if nothing had changed." He shook his head, in hopes that the motion would dislodge the memories of the unpleasant bunch just as easily. "So whatever people might insinuate, the way you dress speaks nothing about you in the least." 

Azide slid his hands into his pockets, and shook his head a second time, more softly than before. "Sorry for going off on a tangent there," he said, looking off to the side. By the time he turned back, his usual smile had returned, and his eyes took on their usual softer watchfulness. "But one more thing, real quick. I promise," he said, punctuating the words with a laugh. By now, the tall gates of Armadillo were nearly upon them.

"For a while, I used to think that it was the title that I wanted." said Azide, as he clasped his hands behind the crook of his neck. "But it's not nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be. I guess you could say that it's one thing to play the part of a soldier, and it's another to have the heart of one." As they made their exit from the settlement, he watched with mild interest as Opal unsheathed the staggering weapon, though he refrained from drawing his own just yet. "My heart has never strayed from my old guild- something I'd prefer to go unmentioned, especially to our Commander. But we were far from soldiers, our merry little group. So until the day comes- when I must adopt the heart of a soldier- just call me Azide."

Judging from the Calrex's even tone and calm demeanor, he could guess that no sudden obstacles were within their immediate vicinity. With no curveballs to duck or dodge in the immediate future, Azide allowed his grip on the long shaft of the paddle to relax as he straightened himself up in his seat. He wondered if it would be a good idea to inform his company that he was not the best swimmer. Or if perhaps he should be more frank, and clarify that he didn't know how to swim at all. Although he had never tried his luck, there was always the chance that any swimming motions would be automatically detected and assisted by the system- but even then, it seemed unlikely that the inevitable flailing of his arms would be recognized as 'swimming'.

Unable to shake loose his unease just yet, Azide snuck a quick glimpse over his shoulder, but managed to take away nothing of use from the darkness. He said nothing as Calrex spoke of their old friend Oikawa, regaling him with the missing player's various exploits over the months. It was a strange feeling, to regret an absence so deeply, and yet be left unable to truly mourn that person. Nobody liked to grieve- but at least such a process held a discernible end. There was no guarantee in the case of these vanished players; all there was left to do was to hold out on a vague hope that perhaps one day they'd turn up again.

"I don't meant to politicize Oikawa's departure, but I think what you described parallels many of the things we take for granted," he began, his eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly as the gears in his head continued their steady spins. "Tristan's title as Aincrad's strongest man is both flawed and ambiguous- not that I mean to take a shot at the man's competence. But that aside, I'm sure he bears that moniker proudly- regardless of whether or not he would've been capable of defeating Seijuro. And almost blindly, the man's title is both accepted and acknowledged by the masses, with no reference to the asterisk that comes naturally with a win by default." 

He paused to clear his throat, then wrapped his fingers back around the oar in front of him. As he opened his mouth to speak, he drummed lightly against the wooden pole with soft taps of his fingertips, stopping just as the words came to his lips. "Again, I say this not as a jab at Tristan. He could call himself God, if he wished, and I would take no issue. But the same asterisks linger around many of those held above us, only they're not nearly as obvious as the colors that do just the same. Think of all of those who we trust unblinkingly- what exactly is that faith built upon?" Lifting a hand from the oar, he gave an upturn of his palm, as if he were presenting to Calrex a  plump sack of coins. "Is it the number of times that they've managed to luck out with the final hit on a dying boss? The fact that their journeys from the starting town were a bit earlier than ours? Or perhaps it's because they've managed to win contests against people who are no longer even relevant." He shook his head.

"I'll never follow anyone so blindly. But if we'd like to keep our numbers from petering out, somebody's got to step up and lead- not just their own guild, but our efforts as a whole." He wasn't prepared to discuss any candidates for such a role just yet- but he would not be lenient when it came time for the discussion. It would take more than simply being in the right time at the right place to inspire confidence in Azide; he could only hope that his peers would not be so easily impressed.

I will be participating in this raid. 

As Vice Commander to the Knights of the Blood, I also grant my approval for Opal to join the raiding parting, should she express interest.

Not only was it the woman's outfit which had brightened, but from what he observed, so too had her disposition. Perhaps it was just the weather playing tricks on his eyes and mind, but he swore that her temperament seemed sunnier today; though her behavior around him still lingered in comfortably within the realm of business, it helped that she was smiling this time around. Moreover, the flicker of life which had flashed across her eyes could still be glimpsed even now, despite the squinted position forced upon them by the harsh rays which struck them from all around.

It was one thing to stand in the city and talk about a sunny day, but it was another thing entirely when that light hounded one's retinas from every angle imaginable in a place such as this. With the lighter complexion of the sandstone floors and sandstone structures, the rays bounced all around, making a downward glance nearly as unbearable as its upward counterpart.

But that was beside the point. What was remarkable then and there was the vitality in the lady's honey-colored orbs. It was as if those once hardened eyes had begun to flow once more, like spheres of amber held to the light. He had to wonder what those eyes would reveal when the process was more thoroughly complete. For now, however, they were eyes that he could trust, and would have to trust.

"I like the way you think," remarked Azide, as his fingers wrapped around the top of the bottle. With a snap, the cap was released, and he helped himself to a generous sip of the quenching liquid inside. "Not just for being prepared, I mean." The bottle was sealed with a few quick twists of his fingertips. "But also in the sense that I'll gladly take substance over style nine times out of ten." He flicked the collar of his coat as an ironic smirk found its way onto his face. "Of course, that doesn't mean that I can't occasionally have both. When in doubt, keep things simple- that's my line of thinking." 

The air before him shuddered for a moment, before revealing a shimmering screen. Azide skimmed briefly through the panel's contents, darting his eyes in alternation between the quest information and the woman standing behind it. Finally, he dismissed the window altogether with a wave of his hand. "As for this particular quest, I wouldn't lose my head over it." He chuckled softly, having already analyzed the probable events of the ensuing battle. "From the looks of that blade you're holding, you just might end up outranging the Sando Satsu himself. I'd like to see how this Jevi's craftsmanship holds up against a savage like that. But we'll be finding out soon enough." With an empty palm, he motioned towards the northern gate of Armadillo. "By the way- outside of more formal occasions, feel free to just call me Azide," he said, glancing at the woman sidelong. With that, he set off.

Nearly fumbling the paddle entirely, he managed to steady his grip on the oar just in time to wedge the blade against a crevice in the side of the rock. With a great heave, he pushed off against the infringing rock and let out a sigh of relief as their course shifted towards the left. He was almost certain that this was not how hardened sailors steered their ships, but the result had been favorable enough all the same. It'd been a crude, desperate method of question efficiency, but at least they'd remained afloat for at least another few minutes. He lifted the oar back into the body of the canoe, and let it rest atop the sides of the vessel, at least until another change in course was necessary. For now, a current seemed to keep them moving, even if it was not exactly the most robust means of transport on its own.

"Just keep doing what you do, and we just might make it out of this thing in one piece," said Azide, with a roll of his shoulders. The constant rocking of their boat was nothing something that bothered him- he'd never really been the sort to experience motion sickness, whether it had been cars, boats, planes or trains. But a certain antsiness came with handing the reigns to the man across from him, so to speak. He was entrusting Calrex with the responsibility of keeping things running smoothly for the entirety of their ride through the flowing canals. What reassured him was the knowledge that the swordsman would be keeping an eye out not just for his company, but also for his own interests; they were, after all, in this boat together.

A shiver was sent down his spine as he something grazed is the top of his head, and as his eyes shot skyward, he realized that the prickles to his scalp had been nothing more than the low-hanging branches of a weeping willow. From the way it reached out across the channel, it looked as if it had been blow aside in its younger years by some heavy wind, only to continue growing undeterred. He hadn't been lying when he'd mentioned to Calrex that the voices had faded from his ears- but that was not to say that the experience had not left feeling more tense by the end of it.

His fingers clasped around the length of the paddle lain out in front of him, as though he were preparing to do a pull up of some sort. "I regret that I wasn't able to see Oikawa before he left," said Azide, as he shifted his grip on the wooden pole. "Although my knowledge from the past six months or so is still full of gaps and holes, I was told that Seijuro made quite a lot of progress while I was away. It was a twist of fate, that I'd turned up just late enough to miss him, but not so late as to make his leaving old news. But you can't blame yourself for not catching the signs. After all, Oikawa had things on his mind that I'm sure even he wasn't aware of," he continued, reminded of a certain collection of episodes which had taken place in the jungles of floor six.

"As for the next step?" he asked. "I'd like to think that we still have room for improvement, as a clearing force. Right now, all that we are is a network of militias. There's no framework for a more coordinated effort, and we all seem content to idolize those who've arbitrarily been deemed the strongest. I think it's safe to say that Aincrad could use more closely linked alliances than it's seen in the past."

The cap for damage enhancements across all equipment is still 3, regardless of however many weapons you might be wielding. At best, you could pull off something to the effect of a +2 DMG/+1 Bleed, +2 Paralyze/+1 Bleed combination with a +1 DMG familiar. 

Of course, you'd basically have to pray for a roll of 8 or above to do anything of significance, but it'd probably be your best bet for a non-Sword-Art-using build. 

He spat as a gritty wind left him feasting on grains; it was not that he didn't think that grains were a vital part of the average diet, but more so out of a personal distaste for this sandier variety. Instinctively, a hand slid down to his hip, but his fingers were left grasping at empty air. Somehow, he'd forgotten to pack something as simple and obvious as a canteen or a waterskin- no-brainers for a floor like this. Was it another sign? Of course, he'd like to dismiss it as the heat messing with his head, although obviously that hadn't been a factor until after he'd arrived on this floor. And so he was left to wonder- was he slipping?

Taking a handkerchief from one of the inner folds of his jacket, he wiped clean his lips and folded up the small square of cloth before stowing it away. In the process, his eyes caught a glimpse of a figure out of their corners. With a quick shift of his position, it was now obvious that this was the player he'd been waiting for- albeit, dressed quite a bit differently compared to the last time their paths had crossed.

A far cry from the black which had once garbed her, the red and white which now emblazoned her garments was unsurprisingly a much bolder palette to sport. And though the two of them shared the same color- that of the Knights of the Blood, it would not be a stretch to say that uniform worn by his comrade possessed a personality much less subdued than his own. But for all of the flare, he had to say that Opal managed to pull off the look rather successfully.

Seeing as how she had apparently failed to spot him, he whistled once cleanly, accompanying the action with a wave. Interestingly enough, he recalled being incapable of whistling back on the other side, but perhaps this was yet another field in which CARDINAL provided compensation.

Realizing that it would be counterintuitive to ask the young lady to meet him up on his perch, Azide raised himself to his feet before sliding down the rough curve of the rocky structure. Puffs of debris took to the skies as his boots struck the ground with a hollow thud, and he continued to wave. 

"It's always a treat, seeing the different takes that people can have on just a handful of colors," he remarked, as he dusted his own armor with a few swipes of his fingers. "Me? I'll be honest- I'm not nearly as creative as the rest of you." Two fingers jutted out from his hand, and he tapped them against his covered shoulder. "I swear, I've worn the exact same design ever since I first spawned into this world; even this uniform is just the latest incarnation of my favorite jacket design." With a shrug, he sighed. Slowly, a smile slid from one corner of his lip to the other, edging one side upward ever-so-slightly. "In any case, I hope that new sword of yours is as sharp as your outfit," he remarked, gesturing to the almost absurdly long blade clutched between her fingers.

Weaving a hand past his face, Azide stroked gingerly at his temples using the flat of his thumb. Ever since he'd first returned, he'd felt it prodding at him time and time again, until he'd eventually move on shut the persistent sensation out with more permanence. Considering how dull the feeling had been in the past, it hadn't exactly been a difficult task to tune it out completely. Whether his answer of choice had been reading, meditation or old fashioned training, he'd found relief in each. But now, what had once been a low buzzing in his ear had seemingly become amplified to the point of provoking the onset of a migraine.

It had bothered him, the way that so much was changing all around. The Azure Brigade had somehow only grown even more prominent, no doubt in part because of the vacuum left behind by the fall of his old guild. Though he had never brought it up, it had irked him that day- the sight of that emblem which had once floated over the head of Zelrius, hovering over that of an old guildmate, and a former council member at that. It'd crossed his mind for just a second that perhaps Oikawa's absence had been an act of mercy, as he had trouble imagining how he might've reacted upon discovering that two of his most trusted allies had been claimed by Azure. But he'd regretted the sentiment before the thoughts had even left his mind; it was wrong to trivialize Seijuro's disappearance over a subject so petty.

It was natural for people to move on, and sure, he'd come to accept the choices his old comrades had made. It was, after all, well within their rights for Oikawa and Rebekah to jump ship when he had left no indication that he would even return. But that had not been the end of it; that very same day, Calrex had been there as well. The so-called Ultramarine Knight, who he'd once known only passingly, through exploits which had involved mutual acquaintances. Back then, the blue-haired swordsman had been something of a rising talent- somebody on the come up. Even still, Azide had been stronger- and by no small margin. These days, Calrex was looking like one of the strongest men in all of Aincrad- and there was Azide, standing in the wake of his dust. If it hadn't been for the man's good faith and kindness, he supposed it wouldn't have been difficult to resent the strides that the swordsman had made during those long five months.

Azide shook his head and blinked slowly, finding himself faced with an already-seated Calrex. "Sorry, I must've dozed off there for a second," he remarked, as he grabbed a pair of oars behind him. He handed one to the bluenette, before slicing the rope which tethered the boat with a flash of his dagger. Looking back to the other player, in part out of the necessity of their seating arrangement, he was silent for a few moments as he considered the the words more fully. After a time, he spoke, as he pushed off against the stilted pier using the flat of his paddle. "Guys like us, swinging around swords and daggers... it'd be an awful waste of potential, if we hadn't ended up being so crucial in the end," he remarked. Whereas Aincrad seemed to raise some to higher lofts, in others, it played the role of an uncompromising oppressor.

"But as much of an advocate as I am for well-roundedness, I do hope that you plan on teaching that player as much about the game itself as you will about life. All the well-roundedness in the world won't get us through the next eighty-some floors if the guy can't throw a punch or take one in return." Azide could hear the sound of rippling water as the canoe glided across the murky surface, but he was at a loss when it came to actually rowing the vessel itself. For now, he would just have to hope that the boat did not drift too closely into the stilts of the walkway.

Despite the humidity which hung in the air and clung to his skin, Azide's smile was dry as he'd made his quip. But he nodded slowly, the faint curl of his lips retreating back to the shadows as a solemness overtook his face. "Thank you for that," he said, clutching the oar in his hands, as if brandishing a weapon with questionable effectiveness. "I'd like to think that I would have stayed with Square One, if things had played out just a little bit differently. Perhaps then, it would've been Oikawa and Xanatos accompanying me tonight..."

Topic Complete

+200 col to Azide and Calrex

+1 SP to Azide and Calrex

Boredom was a funny thing, which seemed to make a fool of all that was standard and normal. Not only that, but it held a candle to the status quo, and revealed just how fickle it truly was. A candle not unlike the ones which glowed dimly from inside the hobbled homes of Lazaro's scripted residents, and bled their lights out into the darkness just outside their fragile confines; in a similar way, the status quo was bleeding, at least for Azide. Everything which had once been taken for granted seemed to bleed out; the wind was blowing, the tides were turning, and a storm seemed to be prowling just beyond the horizon. But even then, Azide stepped into the canoe, making his descent both slow and steady. The boat rocked from side to side as he'd entered, and continued to rock even after he'd seated himself across from the blue-haired man.

But even for all of his trademark caution, he'd still entered it all the same. Unplanned, unchecked, and in unfavorable conditions. He could barely even see at this hour, let alone navigate a canoe through a network of canals. To accomplish anything more than desperate spinning circles, he would have to rely almost solely on Calrex. That was not how his world had worked; and yet, here he was now. It was as if he were bleeding, and the world was bleeding back.

"I can't exactly say that surprises me," Azide said, catching sight of something in the water ahead of them. Keeping in mind that no mobs had ever spawned within the confines of a safe zone, he neglected to mention the observation to the player beside him. Besides, if it'd been anything of concern, then Calrex likely would've alerted him to it long before it'd even had the chance to come into his view. For the time being, he pictured Oikawa- the young man who had once been at his right hand; not only had Seijuro been loyal as a guildmate- he'd proven to be every bit as loyal as a friend. The former councilman of Square One had in fact been one of the few people in Aincrad that he had not hesitated in labeling with that designation.

In the next instant, he swore he'd tasted blood, with inattention lying at the center of what had almost been a nasty fall. There were a few things which were shed in a world like this, but blood was not among them. As he regained his footing atop the slick terrain, Azide noticed a thin orange line towards the end of his tongue, which quickly began to fade just as soon as it'd appeared. Just like so many other things in a world like this.

He adjusted his jacket, flicking blinding at the sleeves with a vague feeling of accomplishment. "Anyway," he started, squinting his eyes at the silhouette in the distance. It seemed to bob gently at the far end of the pier, but he carried on regardless, moving forward in both the conversation and the more literal sense. "That's just the plan I had in mind myself. Though she's hardly a slouch when it comes to swordsmanship, I've put it on my own shoulders to see to it that a certain guild member of mine grows into a fine front-liner. And although I'm aware that you yourself are in no particular guild, I think you might find it worthwhile to mentor anyone you come across that might hold staying power. It's true that we haven't had the chance to familiarize ourselves with each other until more recently, but I think such an apprentice would have a lot to learn from you, Calrex."

Finally, the shadow on the horizon was no longer a shadow, nor on the horizon. Instead, in its place, he spied an old canoe which had almost certainly seen better days. But despite the nicks, scratches and general state of disrepair, it seemed to have no issues with floating. Azide turned to the man beside him with a slight smile, and gestured to the vessel. "I don't suppose you're in the mood to venture out on the water?"

With Calrex following suit, Azide slowed his pace, putting them side-by-side on the ailing avenue. Admittedly, the previous arrangement had been closer to the ideal- the path was not exactly narrow, but a single file march certainly left each person with much appreciated clearance, considering the watery plunge which awaited anyone caught slipping. Still, at least this way, there would be a pair of eyes in the front actually capable of seeing a significant distance ahead.

"The more time we spend in this world, the slower our progress will become," said Azide, catching a quick glimpse of the swordsman before returning his attention to the rickety pathway. "The clearing group doesn't exactly have the best retention rate. Our best and brightest are either retiring or on the decline; even if they were to someday change their minds, the time that it'd take for them to catch up and readjust would not be insignificant. It'd be mad to think that we could maintain the kind of pace we accomplished on floor eleven."

At most times and in most places, the flame which flickered off to the side would be written off as slight or faint; it was a different word entirely here and now, and Azide scrunched shut the eye closest to it as they passed by. "But as I was saying," he began, rubbing at his eyes as they refocused in the low light. "That's why I believe our objective should be geared towards retaining our numbers in anyway possible, as well as taking those who hold promise under our wings. Finding those we thought to be lost would only make all of this easier."

It is with great enthusiasm and pride that I declare a return to prominence for one of Aincrad's oldest and most unshakable guilds- the Knights of the Blood. 

For too long, the colors of our organization have gone underrepresented in both the front-liners, as well as in every step and rung below them. Regrettably, our name, once respected, was allowed to become almost foreign to the masses. But despite all of these setbacks, the humble red and white of our uniforms have never been allowed to fade. We don them just as proudly as any self-respecting soldier.

As the longest continuously running guild in the game, take pride in the knowledge that by taking up arms alongside fellow Knights, you too can be a part of something greater. Far too many guilds rise and fall as predictably and as often as the sun. We, on the other hand, are a castle: resilient, strong, unmoving. 

Never in a million years will we fall.

To those of you who find your interest peaked, message myself, Vice Commander to the Knights of the Blood. You will be working not underneath me, but beside me- as a Knight no less deserving of the colors than any others in our noble service. 

If I myself cannot make stronger the strong, or make strong the weak, I assure you that both tasks are well within the power of our Commander and founder, Heathcliff himself. To those of you gracious enough to lend us your strength, do not be surprised when you find yourselves receiving twice the amount in return.

Respectfully, 
Azide