Azide

This is actually very similar to the system that Baldur, Tyger and I were drafting back in the day. Obviously our current equipment will only get us so far, so scale is definitely a nice thing to have. The only additional thing I can think of is that somebody in our group had pitched the idea of a sort of material conversion system, almost like currency. For example, being able to convert between tier 1 materials and tier 2 materials, and the other way around in order to keep everything liquid. The conversion rate was never firmly decided, but you could probably work out a factor that might be workable.

"A businesswoman, are you?" spoke Azide, with a raise of his brow. He eyed his opponent up and down, somewhat surprised to see that she had paired her katana with a turtleneck sweater. And perhaps it was just the heavily applied make-up, or the midnight hair which framed her face, but this lady carried an almost sullen vibe about her. For someone who carried the moniker of Opal, nothing about her seemed opalescent in the slightest. Everything about her seemed to be wrapped up in the color black, all except for a pair of bright red lips, which stood out amidst all of the darkness. Crimson-colored lips- the color of blood.

His lips curled into a wry smile as he answered with a shrug and a lift of his hands. "First time we've ever met, and you're all ready to have at me with that sword at your hip." A deep breath, followed by a sigh as his hands dropped to press against his hips. With a shake of his head, he sought out her eyes, and found himself gazing into a pair the color of old amber. "But yes, I am Azide. And I can assure you that nobody else is here, with the possible exception of Heathcliff himself, or at the very least someone reporting on his behalf. Hats off to you if you manage to find either of them, however, as I've had no such luck."

This was a player whom he knew absolutely nothing about- all he could glean was that she wielded the infamously versatile katana. However, all of the versatility in the world was not going to win her a one on one duel in which she herself had banned the use of stunning Sword Art. He couldn't imagine that multi-hitting moves would be of any use either, with but a single target for her to hit. No, in an environment like this, it was he who held the upper hand.

Azide raised his hand and swiped across the empty air in front of him, conjuring up the system's virtual interface. With a few more clicks and taps, a new dialogue appeared before his opponent, requesting a half-loss duel. With another swipe of his hands, his own menu was dismissed, and he lowered the hand until his fingers grazed the leather sheath at his own hip. "If it's business you want, then I'm happy to oblige. So let's get down to business, shall we?"

ID: 35629 |  LD: 8 (Higher natural LD gets first move, if latter roll wins, a double post is allowed)

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 (R2)

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

Familiar:

Lucifer: +1 Damage

Hearing the girl's comment, Azide proceeded to cross and uncross his hands quickly and repeatedly, looking like a frantic DJ in the process. "I didn't say anything about you looking fragile," he blurted. Of course, that was exactly the impression he'd gleaned over the course of however long they'd been together- but hearing the words from her own lips was rather unnerving. Had she read him somehow? He was aware that cold reading was very much a real and tangible skill, although he wasn't sure if it were even possible to read things such as micro expressions in a game like this. Would the NerveGear even pick up on those small and subtle gestures?

Pulling his plate closer to him, he unwrapped the silverware from the handkerchief enclosing it, looking back up at the blonde-haired girl. "But assuming that means you're no stranger to it, then at least I won't be seen as a bad influence- if you happen to be American, I mean," he continued. Serving wine to an eighteen year-old would hardly put him in the running for the next Joseph Stalin, but he was vaguely aware of how uptight American parents could be, even when their children were no longer children. "Although fun is something we could always use around here. God knows I'd appreciate a little every now and then," he remarked, smiling as his fingers closed around the stem of his glass. 

"Either way, I'm parched. I think it's about time we do our hearts a favor, don't you agree?" he asked, grinning as he raised the glass.

"If I weren't so strapped for time, I just might have taken you up on that offer," said Azide, as he leaned against the counter. Though he was usually not a fan of manual labor, cleaning was really something that ought to be done by everyone, no matter the color of their collar. Even though his own shop was used more or less as a makeshift residence and an occasional meeting place, he felt compelled nonetheless to keep it in tip top shape.

His eyes followed the tailor as she made her way to a workbench and began to pull out various fabrics and materials, while he himself pulled up a chair and took a seat. He found it difficult to stop his foot from tapping lightly against the ground while the girl worked. 

"Not exactly," he answered, with a shake of his head. "It'd be a bit of a shame to commission a uniform that nobody else would ever see, don't you think?" he chuckled, thinking back to all of the customers whom had entered his shop. The answer, of course, was none- as the laboratory had never opened to the public.

By the time he looked over to gauge her response, the girl had already finished, leaving him scratching his head. "Wow, quick work today, huh?" he asked, rising from the little stool. He eyed the garment up and down; it wasn't exactly his first choice of color schemes, but the design was snappy enough that he figured it might grow on him someday. "As always, it looks great, Ariel," he said, nodding.

His eyes darted back and forth between the virtual clock and everything that lay ahead of him. A sharp breeze sent shivers down his spine, but he braved the chilly bout and soldiered on. In time, his last remaining smidgens of patience were rewarded by a familiar sight- a snow-dusted shop known to most as The Lion's Den. A sight he had definitely seen his fair share of since the store's earliest days; it felt like just yesterday that he had walked in and placed an order at the front desk. In fact, this was an act he'd done so many times that he was hesitant to put an actual number on the routine.

Stepping through the door, he shook loose the powdery flakes which had settled atop his head, before making his way directly to the counter. Grabbing a form from the pile, he scrawled exactly what he was looking for, then looked up at the shopkeep. "Before you ask- yes, I'm back with another order," said Azide, preemptively transferring over five-hundred col.

Name: Uniform of the Knight
Item Type: Leather Armor
Quality: Good
Enhancements: None
Description: A fitted uniform consisting of a coat jacket coupled with a matching pair of trousers. Primarily white, the jacket is lined with a crimson trim that traces every edge and pocket. A stylized red cross runs across the bottom in repetition, each pattern outlined with a dark grey.

-500 col to Ariel

There must have been a downdraft that day, he surmised, as he watched an invisible hand lifted the smattering of leaves which had laid motionless at his feet. It seemed a fair guess to make, considering he was surrounded on all sides by the towering walls of the colosseum. Admittedly, the locale held a very different feel to it without the crowds of spirited spectators that would often arrive in spades for the purpose of observing organized duels and exhibitions. Though he rarely mingled with those nameless players, they seemed to have their favorites when it came to guilds, much like the sporting fans back on the other side. His eyes swept the arena clean, but found no signs of either those fans or anyone else, for that matter. 

The fact that the young lady had not yet arrived was of no real concern- he was certain that she would be here, what with her talk of honor and the like. But what about the man? Azide had been assured that the coming duel would be monitored, so that the skills of both him and his opponent might be properly judged. And yet for all of his rhetoric, the mysterious man was nowhere to be seen.

Both he and his guild were an almost unparalleled enigma, really only known to a select few players who were themselves a rather fleeting site in recent times. Vaguely, he could recall that one RyujinSeaLord had served as the man's right hand for a time, before abandoning the post. Rumor was that Shark, a veteran player he'd encountered in the company of Mari and the other guests of the tenth floor raid meeting, was allied with this man- but the full extent of their relationship was uncertain.

He knew almost nothing of either Heathcliff or the Knights of the Blood, but there was one thing that he did know; not a single broker had been able to recall a time before the latter's founding. Senior to even the famed Azure Brigade, it was an organization which had truly withstood the test of time.

"By the way, ever had wine before?" asked Azide, as he made a move for the corkscrew. Glancing casually at the device, he made a point not to let his eyes linger too long, so as not to give the impression that he'd never used one before. Naturally, there'd been plenty of price and vintage wines in the household back in the day, and all of them had needed opening- so why shouldn't he be well acquainted with the task? The answer was really quite simple when one stopped to consider it; he hadn't actually become of age until after he'd moved out. With the chilled bottle in hand, he furrowed his brow. So what if he'd never actually popped one open before today? How hard could it be?

After fiddling around a bit, he lined the point of the screw up with the center of the cork and proceeded to twist away. He tittered as the sharp point slipped from its position dragged down the lip of the bottle, faintly scratching the dewy glass. Realizing that he must've been spinning the wrong way, he repositioned the tool at the indent and allowed his shoulders a bit of slack upon seeing the screw work its magic. Glancing sidelong at Adelyn, he continued, "It's pretty much the only alcohol I'll bother touching. If you've ever read any of the studies, it turns out that a glass of red wine every day actually does wonders for your health." With a sharp tug that nearly costed him his balance, the cork pulled free, and he poured a portion into each of their glasses in an exceedingly slow manner. "Of course, this is white wine," he said, clearing his throat as the pale liquid trickled down the side of the wineglass. "But same difference, right?"

Azide had always wondered how servers were able to balance so many fragile things atop those trays without dropping them. Sure, he himself had once run around on a regular basis carrying an incredibly sharp sword, but there was a sense of wonder in the more grounded coordination required for the job that this man was doing. It was true that their server was not currently carrying a particularly remarkable amount of objects, but he had still managed to navigate his way up the steps while juggling two piping hot covered plates alongside a pair of delicate and spotless glasses. Sometimes he forgot that not everybody in this world contributed to it through fighting or even crafting- there were plenty of people who had simply settled down in search of something resembling normalcy.

The rail-like man pulled up to the tableside and set down first the Chardonnay, the bottle still so heavily misted that fingerprints were left behind once he'd drawn his hand away. Next came the twin pair of glasses, placed before the pair so gingerly that the act might have gone unnoticed had it not been performed within their full view. Finally, two covered platters alighted the table, before being uncovered simultaneously. One braised halibut and a Cajun seafood pasta, still steaming and freshly prepared. 

Oregano, parsley, garlic freshly ground cayenne... and that was from the girl's plate alone. A little unconventional for a Cajun dish to be missing onion, but the aroma was to die for even then. And from his own, he could smell the warm and comforting combination of tomato, shallot, fennel, and a hint of something light. Sage, perhaps? 

The man produced a corkscrew from his front pocket, but as he moved to uncork the bottle, the young man in green waved him down. With a silent nod, the server set the device atop the table and retrieved the circular tray. "We hope that you enjoy your meal here today, sir and madame," he said, before taking his leave.

"Worried?" asked Azide, catching the eyes of the girl in front of him. "Right now, the only thing I'm worried about is whether or not our food will be getting here on time." Again, he laughed, more for the sake of the mood than anything. Admittedly, a few things were on his mind, but he had no doubt that every man and woman in Aincrad had their own demons. It was really no different from the other side, save for the more colorful monikers that marked the inhabitants of this one. He could only assume that Adelyn was one of the rare exceptions to this trend, although true to his nature, he had not even bothered to ask. "Too much time spent assuming, not enough spent actually confirming," he thought. It was something about him that still needed work.

He paused as footsteps approached in the distance, the steady steps catching the attention of his ears. As if on cue, the toothpick of a man soon emerged from over the final steps, carrying a loaded tray in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. 

-----------------------------------------------------

Topic Completed

+400 col each to Adelyn and Azide

+1 SP to Adelyn and Azide

Showing a refusal to commit to an attack, Hirru feinted with a stir of his sword before drawing away. For someone currently at an over one hundred point deficit, the swordsman was in desperate need of any hit he could manage- even the most glancing of blows would leave a mark, for Azide had neither the regeneration nor the mitigation which necessary in order to guarantee a complete blowout. He wondered what the man might be getting at. Was he attempting to bait out a sloppy counterattack, so that he could punish the mistake?

If that were the case, he'd simply have to be cautious. However unlikely, the hunter's bleed enhancement made it just barely within the realm of possibility for him to actually clutch out the match- and so Azide would have to deny his sword the opportunity to act. 

Staying light on his feet, he crossed over to Hirru's flank, his dagger glowing red as he readied his next move. Once more, he plunged Chemikaze into his opponent's armor, this time aiming at his side. A man of science, he'd experimented with the stun cool down times enough times to pinpoint when the effect would once again become active. He twirled the knife between his fingers, looking the petrified man up and down. From the looks of it, his observations had not failed him yet.

ID: 35165 | BD: 8 + 3 - 1 = Hit

Armor Pierce (1x1) (10) = 10
10 - 5 (MIT) = 5 DMG

Azide | 429/429 HP | 12/31 EN (+1)(-4)
Hirru | 239/369 HP (-5) | 15/16 EN [Stunned]

[Concentration Cooldown: 1/5]

The red-haired girl rose to speak, and although that in of and itself was nothing special for a raid meeting, his ears perked at the sound of her words. As she rebuffed Mack's praise of a certain player in their midsts, he lifted his head, glancing at the boyish swordsman out of the corner of his eye. It was rather difficult to glean anything from the commandant's expression, considering the ridiculous thing on his head that he'd claimed as a helmet, but he couldn't help but wonder what the man might be thinking at the moment. Azide himself had always suspected pride as the motivating factor behind Azure's absence during the tenth floor raid. Would Zelrius be too proud to take their criticism? Would he slap down a hasty declaration of non-participation before storming out of the room?

His fingers rolled softly against the table in arpeggio as he awaited the end of the girl's musings. When the time came, he appreciated in retrospect her more position and order focused approach, rather than resorting to the buzzword of teams. But for the time being, he turned his eyes to Mack, who looked just a little too big for his chair. With a furrowed brow, he answered the man, "While I'm sure we all loved that party in the Fields of High Crossing, I can't say that I was in love with the Buccaneer's leadership back there on floor eleven." Azide turned both hands over, so that his palms now faced the ceiling. Lifting them from the table, he continued, "Let's remember to give ourselves some credit, shall we? And while we're at it, we should probably thank those dregs for attacking Tristan Delaney instead of almost anybody else when we'd first entered the cathedral, because otherwise somebody would have died right there and then. Or perhaps we can give our thanks to the Forsaken Crusader, who instead of attacking us in its first move, decided to go on the defensive. Because for some strange reason, Tristan Delaney was placed on the second team instead of the first, leaving all us without that wonderful sixty mitigation completely open at the time."

He paused for a much-needed breath, releasing it slowly in the form of a sigh. His eyes fluttered open as the last of the air left his lungs. "But to be fair, I myself had not considered the possibility of either the dregs or the boss attacking first, so I'd like to remedy this with a solution inspired by the Crowned Lion herself," he said gesturing to the blonde-haired girl across the roundtable. "If there's anything that we have in abundance, it's alchemists. So I figure that it would not be unreasonable to ask that any capable alchemists out there focus on producing as many safeguarding potions as possible, with crystals as a secondary goal. Those of us made out of paper and cardboard may enter the battlefield with peace of mind, and leave the tanking to those who can actually take a punch."

Applying safeguard as a precaution would allow for them to completely negate a single hit, reducing the risk of being picked off before the tanks could do their job. Perhaps he himself would whip up a potion or two, provided he found the will to hunt down a handful of materials beforehand.

 An absence of colored light from the the drawn blade signaled that Hirru had not sought to invoke the use of a Sword Art. Considering the situation that his opponent was in, coupled with the man's expression, he could at least strike out the possibility that the swordsman had simply given up. Calm brown eyes rushed to catch sight of a more fiery pair. No, Hirru had clearly not thrown in the towel. So just why had he attempted to hit him with a normal attack? Sure, those freestyle swings had once been the bread and butter of offensive technique, but as of the latest patch they'd lost much of their old luster. Nowadays, their only remaining utility was as a means to conserve energy. 

"Is that it, Hirru?" he wondered, edging out the warrior's blade by hair; the sword had been a little too close for comfort, so that it appeared as if Azide had simply phased through the strike entirely. "Are you trying to measure my evasion?" It would almost make sense- to hedge one's bets with a less energy intensive attack, as anything more would be wasted in the case of a target possessing higher-than-expected evasion. But even still, what could be done with knowledge alone?

Azide mentally traced the remaining arc of the youth's swing, triggering the appropriate Art only after selecting a technique that could be executed before the man's missed attack could be carried to completion. With a bit of quickly channeled concentration, he elected for the activation of Cross Edge. His dagger acquired an aura of red, before before tearing twice into Hirru's armor, leaving behind two orange lines running perpendicular across the man's torso.

ID: 35104 | BD: 2 + 3 (Equipment) + 1 (Savvy) + 1 (Concentration) - 1 (Evasion) = 6 (Hit)

Cross Edge (2x4) (10) = 80
80 - 5 (MIT) = 75 DMG

Azide | 429/429 HP | 15/31 EN (+1)(-8)
Hirru | 238/369 HP (-75) | 14/16 EN

[Concentration Cooldown: 0/5]

If Azide had actually known this man, perhaps he would have been more likely to exchange with him a bit of banter- there'd certainly been time for a quick remark in the previous instant, where Hirru had stood stunned on his feet. But with little inspiration to draw from, it was probably better for everyone involved that they let their blades do bulk of the talking. And indeed, Hirru had been at a loss for words as the dagger met his skin; a look in his eyes hinted at confusion. Was the man confused as to why he had chosen the Art that he had?

His eyes fell upon his opponent's health, taking note of the fraction which had been regenerated- nearly the entirety of it. Either his opponent sported regen enhanced armor, or he had access to the oft-neglected combat heal skill. Useful, perhaps, for minor injuries sustained in the field, but not nearly as much when faced with a more credible threat.

A crimson light enveloped the length of his dagger as the system recognized the combination of his position and gesture- his grip reversed, his arm reared back and ready to go. When the glow reached its peak, Azide slashed his immobile target broadly across the chest, following the momentum of his swing into two spinning kicks.

ID: 35044 | BD: 4 + 3  (ACC) = 7 (Hit)

Shadow Stitch (3x2) (10) = 60
60 - 5 (MIT) = 55 DMG

Azide | 429/429 HP | 22/31 EN (+1)(-6)
Hirru | 313/369 HP (-55) | 16/16 EN

Like an arrow with a tailwind, Azide came flying at his opponent at a blinding pace, wielding a precision which was not quite cutthroat- actually killing this man was not something he wished to be held accountable for. But even so, nobody had ever died from pure speed alone- other than those who had overdosed, but that was beside the point. There was no way in hell that a man in a metal suit was going to lay so much as a finger on him, and he would be more than happy to provide a demonstration.

Mid-stride, his fingers snatched up Chemikaze into their clutches, and he bared the blade firmly in hand as Hirru came within reach. Glowing red, the dagger was driven swiftly through a chink in the swordsman's armor with a single well-placed thrust. Cold steel bit into warm flesh, before exiting the fresh wound as Azide twirled from left to right. His knife freed and his target neutralized, he raised his weapon once more as the crowd exploded around them.

ID: 35023 | BD: 7 + 3 - 1 = Hit

Armor Pierce (1x1) [10 + 2 (Charge)] = 12 
12 - 5 (MIT) = 7 DMG

Azide | 429/429 HP | 27/31 EN (-4)
Hirru | 362/369 HP (-7) | 16/16 EN [Stunned]

"What the hell was that?" wondered Azide, as he drew his hand away from the gently glowing orb. He took a few steps back, blinking slowly all the while, and staring at his palm and fingers as if they were a solid purple. His eyes drifted all around, catching sight of the green-haired man before him, along with the roaring crowd around them. A quick shift of his gaze confirmed that his health had been increased by a good three hundred points- presumably temporary, and it now sat at a lofty four hundred and twenty-nine. "I wonder if anybody would notice if I made off with that thing after the match," he thought, eyeing the sphere.

In any case, he lowered a hand to his hip, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing the flap of his leather pouch. Whatever had happened before was unimportant- it was time to face Hirru, and he would not be caught dazed and off guard. He nodded at the man's words, as he readied himself to take off at a moment's notice. "We'll give them a show," he answered, the corners of his lips twitching as the timer struck zero.

Stats: Same as above.

Azide HP ---> 429/429 (+300 Over-Health)
ID: 35022 | LD: 13

Like a glove one size too small, his fingers remained tightly wrapped around the grip of his dagger. The knuckles showed their pearly whites, and the clenched hand shook as if it were rather unsuccessfully making an attempt to hide a tiny motor. Making an attempt to release the knife, Azide instead found the muscles locked, as if the system had not yet finished with them. He looked away, trailing the river all the way into the horizon, and took a deep breath. Holding it at first in his lungs, he expelled the air slowly through slightly pursed lips. When the deed was done, he found that his hold had loosened just enough to pry the knife out with his opposite hand. 

Once the weapon had left their clutches, it was as if a switched had been flicked on- he flexed the once stiff fingers. "Still numbed, but it's a step in the right direction," he thought, as he returned the blade to its humble sheath. Realizing that Takao was now addressing them, Azide looked up, only to answer with a firm shake of his head. "Don't be ridiculous. You cleaved off roughly a third of the thing's health, so clearly you pulled you own weight," he said. "Besides," he patted the sheath at his hip, "my weapon is plenty capable of paralysis as it is."

It was Ariel who had spoken next, chiming in with a chipper comment on his weapon of choice. She seemed to be in better spirits now, at least when compared to before. "Yeah," Azide said, rolling his neck. He slipped his hands into his pockets. "So, we finished here?" he asked, eyeing the other two.

Ariel's claim was a bold one. But as far as assertions went, hers was most definitely a head scratcher, as well as lacking in citations. Jomei getting one-shotted by the Butcher? He'd done his research on the boss in the past, and such a scenario seemed incredibly unlikely. The suggestion of packing safeguard crystals seemed like a stretch against something they could likely kill in single round, but it left him with a solution for a certain quandary in the future...

For the time being, however, he turned to Ariel. "By any chance, did you happen to receive an item drop from the big guy?" he asked, recalling the girl's earlier comment. If this were a retrieval mission, then surely they were not yet finished with their objectives. Azide glanced off in the direction of Vulcan, averting his eyes from the low-hanging sun. "If so, then we should probably make our way over to our client before it gets dark." He doubted that any of them had invested in nightvision, considering the skill's more situational advantages.

For one, the hot streak had earned him a mastery of the dagger; in that short span of time, he had clawed his way from the lowest rung to the highest peak. The final step to grandmastering had managed to elude him for a while, limiting his damage potential to what turned out to be a mere half. But even that rift had been crossed, and he had only furthered said capabilities by channeling his continued efforts into the charge skill. The Iron Guardian had fallen victim to his razor-edged blade, and the Sea Wyvern had only served to add another body to the grisly count. And yet, why could he not say that this had not all been for himself? That his actions had not been motivated by a selfish pride?

Thirty skill points and seven level levels later, he now sat at a respectable level thirty-one- all over the span of a couple of weeks. It had been a short-lived renaissance of fire which had lifted him to relevance in the first place; for a while, no matter how brief, he had felt as if nothing could stand in his way. The looming deadline of a confrontation against a certain titanic Crusader had pushed his back against a wall, and made him hungry for every ounce of strength he could scrape together. Hell, he had even enjoyed a stint as a freelance contractor, doing odd jobs more for the experience than for the money. All in the name of cultivating his own ego. And for what, ultimately?

Fire had driven him to the forefront of the front-lines nearly half a year ago- he had risen to prominence over the span of a few months, driven by nothing more than a desire to become the best in all of Aincrad. Fire had driven him to chip away at the secrets of alchemy, and to hone his craft until he had become arguably the most skilled alchemist in the field, rivaled only by the orange player Mari. It was fire which had hurtled Square One into the spotlight, and which had once made it so promising as a fledgling guild. So what had coursed through his veins as he'd reintegrated himself after a five-month hiatus? The answer was all too obvious.

It was poetic, he thought, that he should find himself here today. It would be blatantly dishonest to deny that he had lost some of the fire which had burned upon his return to form; now, here he was- on the coldest of floors. Though he had never attempted the experiment, he wouldn't be surprised if this frigid tundra were capable of freezing even the most passionate of flames. He swept the barren snow-covered fields with a discerning gaze, narrowing his eyes as a point of interest was spotted in the distance. What it might be, he couldn't say for sure. But something was lying out there in the snow, half-covered, and he was getting tired of trudging around without so much as even the most minor of leads.

Again, the girl giggled, and it reminded him of chiming glass. Perhaps it traced back to the motif of fragility he had noted earlier, but it was the first comparison that had come to mind. Was she humoring him? He'd noticed that a lot of girls tended to laugh at everything, as if the act were going out of style; yet, there was always the chance that her laughter was genuine. He found himself hoping so, as Lucifer never even bothered to humor him, no matter how witty or clever the remark. "So many jokes, squandered," he thought, picturing the blank stare with which the snake had given him each time.

His fingers swept aside rogue strands from his face as he paused to consider her remark. So this was a date after all?  Or perhaps he was simply reading too deeply into a playful retort. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened, after all. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that all of telltale signs were there. "Hell, we're even about to break out the wine, even though it's closer to lunchtime than dinner." He consoled himself with the knowledge that it was five PM somewhere in the world. 

"I'm afraid if you're looking for col, you've got the wrong guy," he answered, pulling his pockets inside-out. It was more of a symbolic gesture than anything, as he doubted anybody actually materialized their col for the purpose of carrying it around on their person. With a shrug, he added, "It's a little hard to make money as an alchemist if you've never actually sold any of your crafts." A twinkle in his eye suggested that he was still more on the side of playful than serious.

"By the way, I think it's probably about time I asked a question of my own," he continued, with a laugh. "Excuse the lack of originality, but my question for you is the same as the one you had for me."

On one hand, he found himself deeply intrigued by Takao's description of the boss: a scaly reptilian which had taken to the skies, flanked by six underlings of an indeterminate appearance. At the most superficial level, Azide couldn't help but wonder how a winged alligator would even achieve lift off- with their underbellies constantly riding so low, it would take nothing short of a miracle for its wings to beat with thrashing against the ground. Furthermore, a gator's underbelly was the only part of the creature that was normally not armored; hovering mid-air and leaving the softer tissue open to the elements sounded like evolution gone wrong. But ultimately, he would have to drop all of his transgressions, owing to the fact that he himself regularly conversed with a snake, while another man in the room regularly wore a hydra skull as a helmet.

On the other hand, what he'd been hearing up until this point had consisted mostly of suggestions relating to the issue of teams- a puzzling concern, to say the least. Had none of them been paying attention at the previous raid? His elbow propped against the table, his head resting atop a curled hand, Azide spoke. "Before anybody else decides to hop aboard the team train, I'd like to point out that our encounter with the Crusader did not revolve around teams nearly as much as it did around order." Chestnut eyes swept the room, making contact with all that had looked to acknowledge his words. 

"If you'll recall, our tanks have always been tanking for the clearing party as a whole, not for any specific team. So I'd like to suggest that we place our two strongest tanks in the initial group, in order to draw the fire of both the boss and its dregs right from the start. Any others with tanking abilities should be positioned somewhere further down the line, in order to generate hate, should our primary mitigators fall beneath a certain health threshold." Azide paused to lift his head, then weaved together the fingers of each hand before resting his jaw on the resulting bridge. "Any players intending on using stun should be separated by approximately three groups, in order to compensate for the period of post-stun immunity. And ideally, we should place one to act directly after our tanks in the initial strike."

This time, Azide drew his gaze to Takao. "As long as our tanks do their job properly, nobody will have to hesitate on drawing the ire of surviving dregs or otherwise." He had not forgotten the curious moment in which the green-eyed youth had opted to target the solely Crusader himself, rather than making use of his weapon's multi-hitting capabilities. In hindsight, the mix up certainly made sense when factoring in the inaction of a certain other player.

When the timer reached zero, it was Hirru who had moved first. When the duel had started, Azide had been able to gleam that his opponent was of a significantly lower level- which was not to say that he could be underestimated, but that there was only so much that the swordsman could do. With his fingers wrapped around the handle of his dagger, Azide stood in wait, hoping to leverage the very same counterpunch-based style he had used in the past; it was a strategy in which maximum evasion and accuracy were a crutch, but his faith in the two had not failed him yet.

But as the green-haired hunter rushed forward, he had moved beyond the degree of speed in which Azide had been expecting; his eyes widened as Hirru came within striking distance at a moment's notice, and he could have sworn the man still wore the same grin which had stretched across his face from the beginning. But he was not about to stand around and find out. Leaning back, he pushed off against the ground in an effort to reposition himself, only to be caught by the very tip of the man's sword.

At that instant, he ripped his dagger from its sheath- only he didn't. His entire body had gone rigid, as if it were just barely out of reach from his own will. He could practically feel his fingertips grazing against the grip of his knife, all he needed to do was draw it... To make matters worse, the orange wound on his chest had not closed, signalling that his opponent had instilled within him the notorious bleed effect.

It was all a troublesome ordeal, but he had no illusions on the disparity present in this duel. The fact that Hirru had not felled him in one blow spoke to that, and so ultimately, he took the opportunity to formulate a plan of action for the moment he regained control of his legs.

Hirru: 69/69 HP | 9/16 EN
Azide: 101/129 HP (-4 Bleed) | 31/31 EN 

[Stunned]
[1 turn of Bleed Remaining]

 As Azide emerged into the arena, a thunderous round of applause erupted from the crowd; their numbers were so vast that they could have surely swallowed him whole, were they to descend from their perches in the towering Colosseum. From the sidelines, Zelrius raised two blank flags, eliciting a raised brow from the dagger-wielder. From what he'd been told, there was precedent for presenting the flags of each participant's guild- but cookie cutter systems had a tendency to break down when it came to exceptions to their rules. He belonged to no guild, and from the looks of it, neither did the man opposite of him. As a result, the former Blood Buccaneer was left looking somewhat ridiculous.

He eyed his opponent appraisingly as the hovering timer ticked closer and closer to an inevitable zero. A man of roughly the same stature as himself, from the looks of it, albeit the green on this man was in his hair, rather than his clothes. Any parallels ended there, as this player appeared to be wielding a one-handed straight sword, and donned a lustrous suit of armor, as opposed to his own razor and Kevlar-based jacket. Moreover, the swordsman was a face he had only seen once- at a recent raid meeting.

He rolled his neck before doing the same with his shoulders. Looking the other man in the eye, he smiled slightly. "Let's have a clean fight, shall we?"

ID: 34908 | LD: 3

Stats:

Level: 31 | HP: 129 | Energy: 31

Damage: 10 | Paralyze: 1 | Savvy: 1

Mitigation: 0 | Accuracy: 3 | Evasion: 4

Skills:

One-Handed Dagger (R5) | Charge (R2)

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

Familiar:

Lucifer: +1 Damage