Ashrah

"Yeah, got it!" he called out as he chained immediately into his next swing. The first was powerful to be sure, but enemies seemed more resilient than he could have imagined. Aincrad seemed more real now than it had on the first day when he logged in and became trapped. There was no pain, but in it's place was a bar filled with color, a silent reminder that he was as fleeting as the pixels that made up his avatar.

Not that it did anything to deter him. This was his world now, and if he wanted to live on he had to learn to fight. In lieu of words, a powerful and guttural sound emanated from his throat as he swung through and sent the axe barrelling toward its target. It ripped a red line across the creature's side. Chunks of data gushed from the digitized wound.

Ashrah pulled back slowly, gritting his teeth. It was another trade, and the boar hit him hard. He watched his HP drop again, but ignored the spike of fear that threatened the pit of his stomach. It had no place here.

"Not quite dead yet," he grunted. "Guess you're up!" he called back to her begrudgingly. She had been somewhat supportive with her last words. He could probably manage to return the favor. "Show it who's boss!"

He watched in annoyance as she activated her skill and gave an enormous cry of effort. It was a shame to see someone with so much energy and attitude channel those things negatively. That only served to fan the flames of his rage as the boar exploded in a shimmering haze.

"Rrrr..." he stared her down as she stood victorious, then turned his gaze on the next closest boar. "Alright, fine." He gripped his weapon and rounded on the piggish enemy maliciously. Ashrah had hate in his eyes as he poised himself to strike. He felt the fire behind his eyes stoking itself, burning away his better judgement and he could not find it in him to care. This creature would kill him and think nothing of it. Why do it any favors?

The hothead threw himself headlong toward his quarry, ignorant even of the damage it did to him in the process. Two holes where the creature had gored him appeared in the center of his chest, but he still slammed his axe deep into the creature from above. It brayed wildly as he wrenched his weapon free and quickly turned to face it. If he'd had the clarity of mind, he might have activated a sword skill.

Ah, well. It felt good to savage the beast.

"Who's being stupid?" he asked as she went in for the first swing. Her weapon cleared the boar without striking properly. Ashrah steadied himself in that low stance and swung for the fences. His strike was a bit more powerful-looking as it arced through the air, but the weapon missed entirely. Not much better than the rude girl- and that only frustrated him more.

"If you don't take some risks and fail a few times, you'll never get better," he said as he stumbled past their target and managed to find his footing. Thankfully, the boar seemed to pay him no mind as he recovered, instead keeping its eyes on the woman who grazed it. 

That's what time in Aincrad had taught him anyway. It was his first time really putting it into application, so he wasn't showing progress just yet. Just in time to make a fool of himself in front of someone who really pissed him off. "Someone really oughta teach you how to talk to people," he muttered under his breath.

He growled as she spoke, getting more riled up with every acerbic word. The nerve of this lady! How could someone talk to someone they didn't even know like that? Her parents must have raised her wrong, he decided, but what came out was, "hey, what'd you say!?"

He waved the axe in the air wildly as he faced her, but the boars seemed to pay no need to their quarrel. Instead, they continued to circle and prepare for an attack. Ashrah seethed as he lowered himself back into a prepared position with both knees bent and his shoulders slightly forward. He was not about to lose to this stuck up bimbo!

"I'll show you," he muttered as he rounded on the creatures and got his mind right. There were two of them, and if he could manage to kill one or both, he would be able to throw it in her stupid little face! "Try not to slow me down!"

His breathing was erratic at first, heightened from the anger and excitement he was feeling, but ragged air turned to constant streams. Both ruby eyes focused on the task at hand and he let his rage become purpose, singular and simple. The skill points were allocated, so his avatar had some basic concept of movement in combat, but his mind was going to need to learn how to do it for real

Trial and error.

"Get back here!" he shouted as the creatures skittered and scampered away from his excessively loud demeanor. Well, some of them at least. There were a few that instantly took notice and veered into attack formation. That was good, at least. It was his first experience with a fight. "That's it, come at me!"

He crouched low, nearly to level with the boars as they careened toward him and dipped their heads. Tusks flared and rent at the air wildly. That was when it happened. He heard someone shouting off to the side, and his attention was torn away. "Wha-?"

Ashrah hit the dirt with all the grace of a drunken three year old. He rolled, arms pulled to his face protectively, and barely managed to evade being trampled. "What the heck was that!?" he roared as he managed to get back to his feet. The boars did not seem amused. "Why would you come at someone like that!?"

Ashrah snorted and dusted himself off, but his eyes remained on the newcomer. "You gonna help me fight these things now, or are you satisfied with me almost getting stomped on by pigs?"

He turned the axe over in hand, studying both the shape and weight of its head. The whole concept of life in a world filled with weapons and combat always seemed natural when he was on the other side of a screen, but now that he could actually feel all of it, Ashrah was given pause. Orange-golden light bathed his clothing, weapon, and flesh as daylight drained away from the very lowest level of the Castle in the Sky.

It seemed ironic that all of this flowed forth from one man's dream. To every one of the ten thousand who had fallen victim to the sociopathic plot, this world was a nightmare. They watched as people they had known their entire lives and total strangers alike collapsed under the weight of anguish and terror. Those who gained the strength to fight had already fought their way up many levels, surveying the front lines of a battlefield that stretched for a hundred floors.

Ashrah was no different at first. Watching people disappear even in the form of data was disheartening. He holed himself up in bars and slept wherever he could manage for months. Occasionally tales from the boss battles made their way to the lower floors, and more of the initially conflicted players took up arms. Slowly, those trapped within the game began to fight back against it.

His own time had come.

Ashrah hefted the weapon, heavier than most other types of one handed types and weighted uniquely. His gaze travelled to the boars ahead of him in a clearing, and his lips turned upward in a smile. He was going to do it. Today, he joined the ranks of the resistance.

The firebrand charged forward with a new tenacity, albeit with no hint of finesse or skill. "Alright!" he called out as he came close enough to get their attention. "You're mine!"

@Moira

Profile
Username: Ashrah
Real name: Zack
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Height: 5'8"

About: History/personality

Zack was something of an odd all before Sword Art Online launched and his life turned upside down. See, through middle and high school, he had the same group of friends and all of them were tight knit. He was always sociable and acted as the "glue" that kept them all together. Graduation saw the end of that.

The group was heavily fractured when several of them got into more prestigious schools, while Zack and the more average students went to the local University. Devastated by the drastic change in his social life, the youth began to fail in his classes and withdraw from the friend group altogether.

While he was transitioning into a routine of work, sleep, repeat, one of the guys managed to talk him into gaming as an outlet for his depression, and for a while, they played MMO games online. Zack started to come out of his downward spiral, right before his parent's announced their divorce. His mother worked several states away, and his father had decided that since Zack was virtually an adult, they had no obligation to continue their marriage.

He stopped gaming altogether, and holed himself up. Not eating or sleeping, Zack began to waste away. He lost his job, and his father became desperate. He conspired with Zack's friends to get him the newest game on the market, Sword Art Online. A Virtual Reality type MMO and the first of its kind, they rationalized that it would be an opportunity for him to live another life, at least until he came to grips with his own.

None of them could have imagined how right they were.

Virtues:

+ Dauntless: Ashrah knows no fear, even in the face of certain death. If there is an enemy that needs to be fought or a puzzle to complete, he throws himself at it and applies all of his effort, regardless of how tall an order.

+ For my Friends: Possibly his most admirable trait, Ashrah displays fierce loyalty to anyone he befriends, even if he barely knows them. He would never put any of them in harm's way, and he would do anything for them.

+ Social Paragon: From real life to the game world, Zack has always been the most charismatic of his friends. He is able to lead from the front, and he is compassionate to a fault. It helps to have someone who can talk to others, for the most part.


Flaws:

- Recklessness: On the downside of his fearless nature, Ashrah is prone to feats of incredible danger. That is to say, he often puts himself unnecessarily into danger, or attempts things that are above his capabilities. Without someone to talk him down, he may be a risk to himself.

- Hothead: His emotions run high, which is fantastic when it comes to relating to others and learning to understand them- but when he gets angry, he gets extremely angry. This causes him to be extremely uncooperative, and even leads to open conflict with others.

- Hidden Depression: At the core of his reason for playing SAO is a deep depression caused by drastic changes in his life outside the game. Because he tries never to think about or discuss this, he often bottles up those feelings and allows them to teeter out of control. He puts on a brave face, but sometimes the strongest of us are the ones who need the most help.

- Martyrdom: Zack puts others needs and wants before his own. Period. This ties in with his depression- in order to forget about it, he often takes on the problems of others and busies himself with fixing them. He does not know when to stop, and it tends to exhaust him and exact a toll on his mental state.

Profession: 

Skills
Non-combat:
»

Passive:
»

Combat:
»

Weapon skills:
» One-Handed Battle Axe (Rank 1)


Inventory
Weapons/Tools:
»

• Berserker's Tomahawk (Rare, +2 DMG)
• Vanity Brawler's Garb
• (3) Starter Healing Potions (Heals 50 HP)

Roleplays
» 

Relationships (optional)



Story Thus Far (optional)

The bleak reflection stared back at him, and Tobias recognized the tired look despite every attempt the game made to distort the truth. Like everyone else, he was pixelated, perfected, and free from the myriad weaknesses real life might have afflicted. There was something in every player's eyes that revealed the truth, however.

His helmet rested on the countertop beside him as he looked inside himself, at memories of the time before Sword Art Online. Memories that reminded him he was still alive, and not just a character on a server like his mind gradually came to believe he was.

The hour had grown late, though. Others who frequented taverns and drank their fill at night would crawl in soon, and his face might be recognized.

Messy blue hair and dark blue eyes slowly disappeared behind his helmet as he stepped back out into public and donned the guise of Vanguard. The simulacra of deep crimson dyed his world bloody, and the other players he could see appeared only as cursors, not names.

But he remembered the face of Domarus.

The two spoke, one more Green than the other for sure. Something about drinks. Vanguard was here primarily to restock consumables, but also, to rest. He took a seat not far from the bar, and rested his arms on the table.

Gonna take this one.

"When she died, we were still getting used to the game," Jiro explained. He looked cold, like heat had drained from his bones and could not get back in. Arc noticed him shiver. "It was the second floor, a minor quest involving killing mobs and collecting their drop items. We didn't think anything of it, and we were almost done..."

The second floor had been a learning curve for many players, Arc recalled. Straightforward algorithms like the ones on the first floor became increasingly rare as time elapsed, and as the players learned the game, the game in turn learned them. If someone wasn't smart enough to recognize that, then...

Well, Annabelle.

"They swarmed us, spawns quicker than before, and far more numerous. We made a break for Urbus, but there were too many. I started to run back, to buy her more time."

"But she was already gone, huh?"

Jiro nodded faintly.

"You accepted a long time ago that you couldn't have her back." Arc's words were flat, but contemplative. Jiro winced at the direct man, but he still smiled. "So, when you heard about this rumor, you wanted to believe it, and you started getting yourself excited?"

"No," Jiro said quietly. "I... probably should have left this one alone. But I spoke up about it, and that person started talking. The rumor started- well, I guess it started with me. I heard it first."

Arc blinked. "From where?" he asked. 

It suddenly sounded shadier than it had first let on.

"We're going to meet at the far edge of the floor, just after the sun sets for the last time today." If you weren't in Taft, Arc realized, it was easier to make that distinction about the sunset. Where the clock tower was involved, all affairs of time lost their sensibility.  He quirked a brow as he listened to Jiro. "The others are off checking out rumors on higher floors," he explained. "I picked you to help me here, Arc, because I wanted to ask you a few things."

"Sure." The blue haired player shrugged a bit. He had nothing to hide, so he thought. "What about?"

"How can you make yourself do this?" Jiro asked. The skepticism in his voice slammed into Arc like a wall that came up out of nowhere. "You seem so certain that it's not real, it's almost like you just convinced yourself to sign on just in case you were wrong. I feel like no part of you actually thinks there's anything to this rumor."

"It's not like that," he explained as they walked along the dirt path. "I want to believe it. Like the rest of you, this game has beaten me down, left me all but broken, and thrashed all of my beliefs. I want to believe, genuinely, that there's something I can take back from it. At the same time, I'm a practical man. If it's not an error on the system, even if it's not the life of my best friend, I'd settle for knowing the truth."

"So you're a cautious hopeful?" Jiro raised a brow.

"More like a jaded cynic," Arc made a gesture with his hand to indicate that it was neither here nor there. "You sound like you're not entirely convinced, either. Yet here you are, leading the charge." The spearman glanced sidelong at his companion. "Care to explain that?"

He kept the group alive, but what Jiro didn't tell them was that he struggled with his own smile. The blonde confided in me later that day that he took up the search because he lost his lover, Annabelle to Sword Art early on. The toughest tales are the ones without hope, and Jiro went a very long time believing that there was none. He told me that he sometimes stared over the edge of the first floor, and once even thought to jump.

This world has stolen the will to live from many of us. There was even a time when I wasn't sure it was worth the fight. I wouldn't admit it, not to anyone who asked, but when I found out about... 

I guess I should start at the beginning. My whole reason for all of this. The reason I left for the fringes, chasing a rumor that might well be baseless.

On the ninth floor, during the boss raid, my best friend Thom was killed. Whether by a careless error on his part, or a failure on the part of his party, the player known as Alkor ceased to exist inside of Aincrad. We all know what's supposed to happen when a player dies.  I was fully ready to accept it, too.

Then, I heard the rumor.

Hope is dangerous. I say this knowing full well the devastation I will feel if it turns out to be false. That I even believe it is foolish, and my willingness to take up the cause makes me feel outright stupid. But if there is a chance-

Thom lived, for the most part, alone. We went to school together for years, and I visited with him during weekends and when he wasn't working. For the past few years, right up until the release of the game, he moved in with his grandmother to take care of her when she took ill.

Dementia is a terrible disease. Watching her fall apart cracked something inside Thom. He hardly wanted to go places anymore, or to do anything. We played games. It was his only outlet. His grandmother meant the world to him. Other than me, she was the only person in the world who he had any connection with.

But we both logged into SAO.

God only knows what happened after that. Did his mother take up the duty? Did anyone? Did they come home to find her dead, and him trapped inside a game? 

And even now, is he dead?

There are some questions that only beating this game will answer, and I will focus on those when the time comes. I just want to see my friend back to his grandmother, if I can.

But Jiro...

I'm not sure how together that kid really has it.

The first thing Arc noticed about Jiro was his enthusiasm. Where the blue haired youth was reserved and stoic, the blonde was outgoing, passionate, and constantly radiating positive vibes. He was a good ringleader for the ragtag group, because their entire mission hinged on blind faith.

It helped that he constantly prattled on about what he would do when he saw his girlfriend again, though the thought made Arc somewhat sad that he had left his behind. Jiro never let the mood sour for more than a few moments though, and when he saw the darkened expression creep onto the other boy's face, he brilliantly changed the subject. 

"We're all here because Aincrad took something from us," he declared. All eyes fell on him at the bizarre statement, waiting for his point. Arc hoped he would be impressed. "A friend, a loved one, or maybe just the first person you met in a game where you felt all alone?"

A murmur rippled through the group. Several heads nodded. Jiro clenched his fist tightly. "So, what I've heard is that there is an item that allows a player to return to life after dying."

Everyone collectively sucked in a breath.

"Some stories say it's an event item," the boy held up a single finger, "and others say it's a reward for clearing a dungeon. The problem is, there's not a single broker that has all the information, and what brokers have most are holding out for the highest bidder."

Of course.

"But don't lose hope just yet!" Jiro yelled out, intent on silencing the dissension. "We're going to split up into teams, and we're going to find that recovery item. Where there's one, there's bound to be more, aren't there?"

"Yeah!!!!!"

The blue haired man stepped out into the forest, and no sound at all greeted him. Taft was notoriously surrounded by a colony of massive ants, all of which were intent on taking the eleventh floor for their queen. Despite the fall of the floor boss, none of the creatures seemed any less enthusiastic about their toils.

Large nests that burrowed deep underground and formed dungeons constituted the dangers of the floor. Despite that, none of those dangers interested Arc. He set out beyond the furthest of the hives, trekking past the fringes of the forest to the outermost reaches of the floor.

When he saw the others gathered, he raised a hand to greet them. "Hey there," the smiling face of a quirky young man stepped forward to meet him. "Glad to have you on board again. We lose people every day, so-"

"It's understandable," Arc waved him off. "Most people don't believe it's possible. I'm not even sure I do. I just can't ignore the possibility."

"And that's exactly it," the other man sighed. "What if it's real, and we miss the chance? Sure, Akihiko laid it all out in the beginning- but there's always something he might not have said. You know?"

Arc just shrugged.

"What did the broker have for us?" A taller man asked, arms folded. Arc glanced over. Did he know this one? Maybe.

The following is an excerpt from the journal of Tobias Palmer, stored in the memory banks of his NerveGear in the event that he did not make it out of Sword Art Online alive.

Or, to be kept as a reminder if he did.

What does it mean, 'to do the right thing?' Not to be existential, but our parents tell us from the time we're very small that we should always "do the right thing,"  and they remain notoriously bleak on what they expect of us.

At times, examples are given situationally, to not lie, or not to steal. Killing others is also traditionally accepted as "wrong." But once you cross over from childhood into adult life, there are not handicaps. Gone are the advantageous context clues about what is allowed and what is frowned upon, and we are left to decide for ourselves what qualifies as "right."

So, in this world where everything is stacked against us, and those trapped alongside us are slowly slipping into madness, do the rules change? Is the right thing firm and absolute, or does it become fluid like humanity and adapt to it's circumstances?

Many of the others argue that survival far outweighs the standard to which we once strived, and that to adhere to a single notion of "the right thing" is a fool's errand. A shortcut to a shallow grave, so to speak. I contend that Sword Art Online, and Kayaba himself have defeated those people.

Maybe that's a bit ridiculous, coming from me.

Still, to further address the question, we have to ask innately, "what do you believe is right," and utilize that answer as our standard. For me, I was raised to believe that no matter what happens, and without question, it is the responsibility of a human being to do good to his fellow man under all circumstances. You don't need a reason to help someone, and you should be willing whether or not you are fond of them.

I struggled with this as a boy, and well into adulthood. I was never a talkative man, and despite my desire to help people, I found difficulty relating to them. There were bullies and people I just didn't get along with who, at times, I even bickered and fought with. So, maybe I didn't always do the "right" thing, looking back.

Now, I have been faced with a decision between two things, and I am not sure which of them is "right."

So I have deferred to my feelings, against my better judgement.

This segment takes place chronologically before Arc disappears without telling anyone.

Taft was the place where Arc went to think. He often stopped there and remembered the happiness he had found within the game, something so few people found the time or ability to do. 

When seated by the water's edge, the blue haired player would stare off for hours and watch the sun shift from one direction to the other, at the beckoned call of the clock tower in the town center. 

Taft was like nowhere else in Aincrad.

He glanced over his unread messages, noting many names and browsing past them until he found the only one that interested him. Often, he'd read over her words and even send her messages to let her know he was well, and safe.

Arc had gone mad with zeal when he heard the info broker say it. "There's a possibility that dead players can be revived." Unlike most of the players in Aincrad, except maybe a few, SAO had taken something from Tobias. The very idea that his best friend might live again was more than enough reason to try.

And he felt like he was getting closer.

Dear Ava, his message read. When you get this, I'll just be leaving Taft. I came to buy some items and repair my gear. I promised I would be careful-

He chuckled to himself.

You remember, I know. I just... I'm writing this because I've never been good at apologies. I just...

If there's any chance at all that my best friend can see his family again, I have an obligation to try.

He hesitated for a moment, finger hovering over the send command. Tobias opted to add more.

I just don't want you to think I don't value your opinion. I do. I care a lot.

The spearman heaved a sigh.

So, please, forgive me for being hard headed.

Love, Tobias.

He tilted his head slightly as the other man spoke, and something vaugely familiar crept up on the armored player. There was a time when he knew this player- probably. He might have been wrong. Still, Vanguard did not know him, and that was all that mattered.

"Sorry," he said simply. "You've got the look. Honest mistake."

He was prepared to leave it at that when the player decided to oblige him anyway, and Vanguard folded his arms intently.  "I'm following up some leads about the increased difficulty of certain mobs appearing on lower floors, as they've been linked to the fatalities of weaker players. The brokers might have information that could save lives, and I was going to pay them to make it public."

Since his appearance was distorted by the armor, @Aereth  likely would not notice Vanguard studying his features, despite the distortion of his mask. It appeared neither of them wanted to be known. He would not press the issue.

"Thank you for the information," he added after a moment's pause. "You have been more than helpful."

He stared blankly at the two hooded players for a moment as they finished their business. It wasn't that he heard anything they said, but on the frontlines, anyone who looked conspicuous most likely was. Vanguard had no reason to question it- what people did in their free time was of no consequence to him.  

Brokers dealt in shadows as much as orange guilds. Because of that, he decided to approach once they we're finished to inquire about some of the newer quests, and the increased difficulty of older, pre-existing ones. The second hooded figure disappeared just before the armored player approached.

"I'm looking to buy some information," he told the man, who he did not recognize as @Aereth- a player he knew, once. Likewise, he would also be unrecognizable. "About the changes that have been happening since the front liners pushed into the twenty first floor. I'll pay well."

Vanguard spent the few hours after the initial Dragon Hatchling quest to do some research. The second floor had several new quests as well, in addition to the chain quests seemingly added in response to the players clearing the twentieth floor. Aincrad seemed to be responding to their determination with a vile, strategic mind of its own.

Survival moving forward would require a strong, cunning mind, some level of teamwork, and sheer luck in some cases. It was difficult as even the weakest of mobs transformed into pack animals, banding together and culling the weakest remaining players in Sword Art Online. 

The armored player made it his goal to seek out a way to fight back.

When he walked past another player and an NPC in the throes of combat, Vanguard stopped short when something strange happened. If he had been slower on the uptake, he might have missed the blink- green turned to menacing red as the woman lashed out, and to her dismay, the man proved much, much stronger.

A single blow lay waste to the errant foe, scattering her data to the wind.

Vanguard stopped only long enough to be sure the other player was unharmed, and that the AI did not have any friends to finish what she started. This is really none of my business, he thought as he turned to continue along his way. 

That their armor was similar did occur to him, however. I wonder if he found that quest, as well? It was strange; when he had come across that armor, it was from a system generated quest somewhere on the higher floors. While it was possible they did the same quest, Vanguard was certain no one else bothered to search the fringes of the more dangerous parts of Aincrad.

It was bad for their health, after all.

"They're becoming more bold lately," the armored player called out, his voice distorted and unrecognizable. "And getting better at it."

He invited the other man to speak to him, which was rare for the loner.

@Domarus

He watched the two pixelated figures trade blows for nearly a half hour before the dragon finally succumbed. The other player looked worse for wear, however. "Whew," the older looking man let out a harsh breath. "That was not an easy fight."

Vanguard refrained from comment.

"This isn't something I feel like the others in my guild would be safe doing just now," he stated, "so I'll go ahead and let them know to get stronger before they try. Thanks for your help, mister armor guy."

Vanguard shrugged. "You did all the fighting. I just watched."

"Something like that." The player walked up and offered his hand. "I get the feeling not a lot of people show you sincere gratitude."

It's more like I'd rather not give them the chance.

Vanguard shook the offered hand firmly once, not wanting to be rude. "Can we be friends?" the other player asked. "You seem like someone who's dependable and good to be around."

Vanguard shook his head. "I don't do friends," he said flatly. "Sorry."

"Well, uh, at least let me thank you some other way," the man offered. "Do you want Col? Maybe drinks?" Everything he tried, the armored player responded in the negative.

"It's fine," Vanguard stated. "You don't have to owe me anything. It wasn't a long walk anyway." 

I need to get out of here. He's persistent.

Before he could continue his speech, Vanguard held up a hand. "Sorry, but I've got somewhere to be. I might see you again sometime."

"What should I call you?" the man laughed. "You didn't give your name."

"Vanguard."

With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd of the Town of Beginnings.

This world was mad enough when people started dropping like flies.

Vanguard watched the man approach the dragon Hatchling warily, searching the same way he had and failing in several attempts to uncover its hiding spot. The idle chatter about player killing had passed, and the man seemed disinterested in further pursuit of the topic. Vanguard's chosen attire may have intimidated him into the belief that this man might be a player killer, but he had since learned better.

Even the low level players on the first floor are terrified of being killed by other players. It's turned from a high stakes game of Russian Roulette into a full on, morally black gang war. If these players are so concerned with taking the lives of their fellow survivors, then they will reap what they so when Aincrad ends.

Unlike other, more passionate players who took Player Killing as a serious offense and actively decided to punish or reform those who committed the atrocity, Vanguard took a hands off approach. Aincrad itself was the enemy. They died because of an inconsistency programmed into Sword Art Online, and the whole world was out to get them all from the start.

Players who took to blood sport, or who lost their sanity in the process of acclimating to this new, no rules society were victims in their own right. They may have been true bastards in the real world as well, but even that was not his concern.

He folded his arms as the hatchling rose from the grass and leapt at his low leveled tagalong. Vanguard watched the man's moves, and when his health began whittling away, he called out. "Don't be ashamed to run," he said. "Discretion is the better part of valor. Live to fight another day."

"I'm not done yet!" the man cried back, determined.

"You wouldn't try to kill a lower level character trying to get ahead, right?" It was an odd question, and Vanguard half expected it to be leading. He sighed loudly, and shook his head. "It's been a weird trend lately, players no one expects use strange circumstances to lure victims out into the open and PK them. A lot of players on the first floor are really worried about it."

Now I understand. He approached me less out of a desire to do this quest, and more to see if I was one of these Player Killers. "You did your research to get close to me," Vanguard replied. "Are you sure that you're not one of those infamous Player Killers?"

The man grinned a bit. "If I was, I wouldn't waste my time on someone who could fight back."

"A trait all the cowards seem to share," Vanguard replied curtly. "And one I have no time for. The dragon spawns this way. Keep up, or don't, I'll not show you the way a second time."

"You're sure of yourself," the man commented.

Vanguard stopped and fixed a sightless gaze on his companion. He said nothing, but he studied the man's features from behind his visor. "This world has taken enough from me," he said finally. "It won't take any more. I won't let it."

I won't let you, either.

The bar was his first choice, once upon a time. He used to listen to stories of mob combat and laugh at the blunders of newer players, then offer advice on how to improve their skills and increase their chances of survival. Now, that crowd of players still laughed, only he was alone.

Sat at a lone table, he dismissed the barmaid with a wave of his hand as he stared intently at the long list of items he had accrued. With Col, he had sufficient funds to get stronger gear, and he desperately needed the upgrade. He was less than a level out from the second tier of weapons and armor, and he would soon need all the stat boosts that entailed.

"You don't look like someone who I've seen around here before," a masculine voice approached him, and Vanguard looked up. The player was gruff, gray haired, and bore several aesthetic scars. He appeared to be a curved sword user, but the armored man did not care. "What brings a high level player to the drudges of the first floor? Reminiscing?"

Vanguard ignored the man.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" he asked. "Well, I got a tip about a quest chain not so long ago, and the guy pointed you out as his most recent buyer. Said you had some luck with it. Would you be willing to take me out that way and give me a few pointers about the beastie?"

Finally, he had Vanguard's attention.

"I'll take you there," he said. "But I won't fight it for you. If you're not strong enough, you run."

"No promises about running," the man laughed heartily. "I've never been much good at giving up."

That makes one of us.

A message popped up in his HUD entitled "Second Chain Quest."

Vanguard paused and glanced at the sender, noting the name of the player and recalling the information broker from before. This isn't a system message, he noted. That broker must have an extremely high level search skill, if he knew my name.

It did not bother him. Brokers didn't care what your name was, as long as your money was good. This one in particular seemed partial to Vanguard, because he was extremely liberal with his funds. The money didn't matter to him anyway.

"Mister Armor Guy," it started. Adorable. "I found more information on the second part of the dragon egg quest, and I will be forwarding it to you as soon as I verify. Thank you for your business, and have a nice day."

Vanguard cleared out the window and let out a snort. How many nice days have you had in this world, I wonder, Information Broker?

He started toward the nearest tavern, where he would plot the next leg of his journey and sort through his skills and inventory. I should try one of those field bosses, he considered. Maybe that will give me the boost I need to get back in the mix.