Ashrah

His first steps out of Urbus were greeted with the sounds of daily life in the field. Several players were engaged with the floor's weakest mobs, well on their way to increased strength. He had something similar in mind, though his work would take him a different route. It had long since become common knowledge that the fields closest to Urbus were filled with wasps, and in particular the hive's queen provided training in the form of a field boss.

Only after slaughtering her worker drones in droves, of course.

The mercenary eyed his stats for a bit before he concluded, "well, I can still put points into various skills, depending on what I want. I just can't properly train with the spear until I have one in hand." He fumbled absently at the sword on his back. "I'll just wait til I get one to do that. I'll have to go back and see Setanta once I do."

Arc pulled Levantine from his back and strode out into the field, looking around for his first victim. The telltale sounds of buzzing greeted him almost instantly. "Well, this'll be fun..."

"No, no," he nearly whispered as she said she'd been a bit harsh. His head shook slightly. "See, I like listening to you; and hearing about where you from is really cool." He tilted his head back and felt the breeze wash over them. "The states are pretty diverse. People are different everywhere, and the way of life varies drastically from one to the next. You'd have no end of new adventures."

Her fingers tightened slightly around his, and he ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "Mmmm... Aincrad, hmm?" He considered the question for a moment. "I have liked the thrill of fighting, because I've never quite done anything like it." He scratched his nose and glanced toward the Cathedral. "Something about feeling like a real warrior, and being able to protect people is absolutely awesome."

He bit his lip, then added, "and... then there was this pretty lady I met. I feel like every moment I spend with her is probably better than the last."

Tobias looked at the woman with a blush on his cheeks, and a sheepish smile.

"Well, normally I wouldn't have a problem going for a fight," he muttered, "it's against my policy to back down from anything, if I can help it." He leaned backward a bit and glimpsed toward the other player with a leisurely smirk. "But I made someone a promise to be more careful, so unless I'm chargin' someone hazard pay, I'm just not takin' any risks. Wouldn't want to upset her."

He watched Beatbox for a moment, the shape of the man just about the only thing he could see for the darkness that shrouded them. His lips flattened out into a slight frown. "Can't see a damned thing on this floor. Thank god this is supposed to be halfway simple, I guess." His gaze lingered on the man's silhouette for a moment before turning back to the path ahead of them. "I've heard tell that there are some right nasty things lurking out here," he said. All manner of demonic creatures and undead hordes, the sort of things you hope don't come out around Halloween."

There was no sign of any river, nor of light sources that might hint toward the direction they needed to head in. It would be some time before they ended up anywhere near Tartarus. Floor ten was, as alleged, extremely vast. And dark. "So, what do you do in this game?" he asked the man, trying to get a feel for what sort of role his companion would be able to fill.

"Feel free to rest here tonight," the spearman suggested. "You're welcome to browse all the volumes for as long as you like. Consider it a gift for starting to learn a new weapon."

Arc smiled at the man and nodded. "Sure thing," he replied. Part of him wondered if the NPC was lonely after the loss of his master, but Setanta seemed to be content. The lad sat in a chair and reclined himself, eyes closed. "What made you want to learn the spear?" the mercenary asked. It seemed relevant, since the man had dedicated so much of his life to the art. If there was anything to be learned of his tenacity, that was surely where to find it.

"Why do I?" the red haired warrior opened his gilded eyes a fraction and his lips flat-lined. "I wonder..."

Arc tilted his head. He would not press the issue if the man deigned it unfit to speak of. "I have always studied the spear," the man replied. "There was never a time I considered anything else. When I was a child, I remember my parents leaving and then... nothing. The spear was my life from the moment my master took me in."

"I have years of practice," Arc muttered, "before I can ever rival someone with that sort of pedigree."

Setanta smirked. "If you practice diligently," the NPC hinted, "it may come more naturally than you expect."

Arc gestured into the darkness. "I guess we find the river and follow it," he suggested. "It shouldn't be too hard. It is depicted as a "river of fire," and maybe that's not literal, but there should be some level of illumination to fool around with." He struck off without further ado from the safe zone and into the howling dark. As he led the way, he glanced back only one time to ensure the other man was in tow.

"While fighting may be inevitable, I feel like we can run if things absolutely come to that." He glanced along the path and strained to see the outline of several undesirables along the field. "We should be safe sticking to the path, just like on any floor. There's always the occasional mob spawn, but we shouldn't stress about that unless it happens." Arc made sure that his weapons and items were in place as he walked along.

"The system generally won't force you to use any skills you don't have," he considered, "so while it might have benefited us to have the sneak skill, it's most likely not necessary." He recalled another time, where he had assisted another player with a quest that required some discretion. "Oh, uh," he remembered something else. "We have to be careful," he told Beatbox, "rather, I have to be really careful, so if you do get into any trouble, make sure not to try to play hero."

"Yeah," he thummbed toward Beatbox as he walked away, indicating the man for @Birdie, so that she would know who he was talking about. "That's the guy who I went to the tenth floor with. He came nose to nose with a demonic hound, but I grabbed him and booked it." Arc watched as the man headed toward another player and opened a conversation as though it were a simple task. To be so socially inclined must have been nice. "And..." his gaze trailed to the center of his HUD as the message from @Oikawa popped up. He flipped it open and had a look.

I see...

Quote

To Oikawa:

I'm gonna sit this one out, I think. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve that I'd rather not go showing off this early in the show. Hope you find a few good prospects, bud. There seems to be a lot of hot blood down here today.

P.S: Any way you can craft me a quality two-handed spear? I'm more than willing to pay you, of course. Keep it on the hush hush.

He hit the send button and looked back to his blue haired friend with a blink. "Guild, huh?" he asked. "That's pretty cool. You've got a bunch of people to back you up, then." It made him worry a considerable amount less about the woman coming to harm- if she could take her allies into combat, there was scant chance that she would find herself in extreme danger. "I was in a guild, once, in another game," he pondered aloud. "But... I knew everyone in that from real life."

"Yeah, I'm not too fond of how pushy she is," the man replied. "It's almost like she has no grasp on boundaries or privacy." He took another sip from his rum and considered the other man's words. "She's very much like a princess in that way, getting what she wants. It's a bit annoying, if I'm being honest." Arc stared into the liquid and wondered just how many people he had met, and about how different they all were. It was a harrowing experience, and he could safely say he had never known that many people on the outside. Domarus was one of the few inside Aincrad he even took the time to talk to.

There had been that one moment, out on the fourth floor, where he met a girl that gave him pause. Inside of SAO, that was a first. He'd talked to girls before in real life, and he'd even flirted. Heck, he was famous among his friends as being perpetually rejected. It had been so bad that one day, he finally gave up on the idea altogether. But for the first time, he'd met someone who he didn't just want to make a fool of himself in front of. She had smiled at him.

When Domarus asked about it, he shook his head. "Not outside the game," he answered quietly. "Never had much luck with ladies." He laughed, then added, "but that don't mean I don't like nobody, I guess. There's probably someone."

Arc closed both eyes as they went, intermittently opening one to ensure the path ahead of them was clear of any obstructions. His thoughts were transcendent of that plane of existence they were trapped on, as though he and the lady with whom he shared warmth were free and able to do as they wished. It made the moment more beautiful when he considered that they were two adults, and that regardless of which world they were in had decided to connect on a deeper level.

Ava leaned against him and he peered down at her thoughtfully, his notions of embarrassment dismissed by her closeness. At some point, he ceased to be uncertain and awkward and happily lost himself in her presence. It was like she was the only other person in the world- well, perhaps not to that extreme, but Tobias had discovered that little else occupied his thoughts, lately. He had fallen into a despairing trap of living life one day to the next, and spending all of his time getting stronger and neglecting the rest of their ersatz society. 

It only made sense that the first person to really reach through to him got an immense amount of attention. That was how he rationalized it, at least. There may have been more to it, but he wasn't going to question those things.

"Not at all," he waved a hand, "you want to know me, and I think that's wonderful." His fingers rose to his nose and scratched at the tip of it. "I come from the East Coast US," he began. "Midway along the original thirteen colonies, in Virginia. On the ocean itself, in fact."

If he had a map, he could have pointed directly to the southeastern corner and had a finger directly on where his house probably was. "In Virginia Beach. Right near the Oceanfront."

His thoughts drifted to the city where he'd grown up, to the extremes it varied from at any given time. "In the summer, tourists are everywhere, so locals rarely go to the beach proper; but in the winter, it can go from 21° C to 0 in a day's time. It'll snow, too- though never too much."

How to describe it...? "It's massive," he told her, "there are eleven high schools that span the city, sectioned off into districts." He wondered if that quite covered how many people were in the city. "And you can go from one part of it to another and see totally different cultures. Farmland to the south of where I am, and the beach due east... it's a massive suburban biome."

"The people vary from real nice to absolute jerks," he said, "but that's true anywhere. He glanced over at her again and tilted his head. "What about you?" he asked. 

"No, it's not that at all," he assured her quickly. "I just, I feel really... special, I guess is a good word." He accepted the ring in short order after her reasons were given, and he equipped it to have a look at. "Kind of reminds me of one of the Knightly Order signets," he mused. "Tobias of the Knights Templar. What do you think?" He flashed the ring in a way that made him feel almost like Sauron, a thought which forced him to suppress a guffaw. "I think I disagree with you on one point, though," he pondered aloud, albeit quietly. "Sometimes light blues and black go very well together." 

The idea of her out on a date with someone else had him wondering whether it had been in the game or otherwise, but the thoughts weren't motivated by jealousy. After all, in Tobias' mind, who wouldn't want to date this girl? She was a sweetheart! "I'm still processing it all," he laughed. "I was blown away when you wanted to come out with me. I can't really express how happy I am."

Arc glanced over her sapphire gaze and gestured toward the inner city. "I don't suppose you want to take a stroll through the market," he prompted as he caught her anxious body language out of his peripheral vision. "We can talk while we walk, if you're amenable?"

He offered his hand for her to take so they wouldn't get separated at they walked. After all the struggle to get past his awkwardness, this portion at least seemed easy. "You can ask the first question, if'n you like," he added after a few seconds pause. "After all, ladies first, right?" he offered her a smirk coupled with a wink.

"One day," he spoke wistfully in response to her agreement about travel expenses. His eyes were on the sky, almost like he sought to glimpse a world far removed from that one. She sounded gently reproachful when broaching the topic of his soirée into the tenth floor; and he couldn't really blame her for it, either. The problem with Tobias was that he held the truth in high regard, even when it was ugly. He wasn't going to lie to her. 

His gaze fell to meet with hers. "I won't do anything crazy," he replied calmly. "I did promise I would be more careful." And a promise was a promise, regardless of who he made it with. The vow he'd made to Ava carried exponentially more weight than he'd probably admit. "But I'll make sure to call you, sometime. That time, I was helping out another player, so I wasn't alone."

She promptly explained she'd made something for him, and it struck him that he had never asked about her profession. An Artisan... evinced by the high quality item that she'd just offered him. His green eyes widened as he looked from the item up to the girl. "A-are you sure?" he asked. "This is... a really great item, Ava." He paused with his hand away from the accept button, letting her consider the offer. 

He calmly hid how flustered he was at the notion of proposal. "So-" he cleared his throat and glanced away, then back at her. "I, uh," he failed to seem cool in the least, but he was certainly happy to be there nonetheless. "I... wanted to know more about you," he said timidly. "I mean, this may come as no surprise, but I've never been on a date before."

He gulped. "And- I mean- it makes sense to know someone you like... better, right?"

Virginia Beach, Virginia.

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeah.

Arc flipped through the treasure trove of tomes that littered the floor of Setanta's home as the man prepared a veritable feast. "A spearman must be hearty, you know," he called out over the sound of boiling water. "Do you drink grog? Mead?" The young man glanced back at his protege as he stepped away from cooking to pour drinks. "I have no shortage of the drink."

"I'll have mead," the mercenary replied as he turned another page. "There is some information in here I've never seen before," he confessed. "There's a lot available if you know where to look, granted, but some of this stuff must have been dug out of archives and-"

"Those books are extremely rare," Setanta cut him off. "In all this land, they are the only ones of their kind." The spearmaster brought Arc a flagon filled to overflowing with viscous, frothy fluid. He bumped cups with the man and took a long drink. After he took a breath, Setanta smirked. "Not that it matters. These legends are all founded in some measure of truth. If you look hard enough, scour the dungeons and seek them, I firmly believe that you can find the truth of any one of those legends."

Arc glanced at the man. "You really love these stories," he observed.

"My master..." the Merc glanced at his teacher and tilted his head. "She was killed in battle by a hound. Not just any hound, but a powerful hound. She lost her life because the creature was able to heal more quickly than she could do it harm."

"So you want a weapon that does not allow for its victim to heal," Arc considered, "so that you can avenge her death."

Setanta nodded.

"Well, err," he stammered, "where I grew up, we had this concept called 'Southern Hospitality'. Everyone's sir or ma'am, mister, missus, or miss. You say please 'n thank you, and-" he cut himself off and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous."

Their eyes met, and he smiled. "I can handle that, I think, Ava," he replied. As she pulled him close, he wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. She felt warm, and he felt his heartbeat increase in tempo slightly. 

When she pulled back, he slowly reopened his gaze to the sight of her. It is real. This is happening. "Could be I've done the Merc thing so long I just consider everyone a paying customer," he joked lightly.

Birdie described how she loved the scenery and that this city was far and away better than the second floor for a meeting and dinner. "I thought you'd enjoy it," he said, "but your idea was just as good! I'm sure dinner would have been just as good either way." Arc shoved his hands into his pockets to assuage some of his nervous fidgeting, then followed her gaze toward the city. "It looks to be modeled after Italian Renaissance architecture," he said. "I've always wanted to go to Europe and visit, but things can get pretty exorbitant with international travel."

When asked how he'd been, Tobias glanced back at her and put a finger to his lips thoughtfully. "Well, I had a job on the tenth floor," he recalled. "Springing a guy from the darkest part of Tartarus, narrowly evading mobs nearly 15 levels higher than me- you know, the fun stuff." When he thought about it, the whole quest seemed a little risky. She might not like that part. "But I was careful," he added quickly. "Didn't take any unnecessary risks, and definitely didn't try to engage any of them."

He put on a dubious expression, as though expecting to be chastised.

"But..." he finally turned his gaze back toward her. "I gotta admit, I've been thinking about you a lot, too." That's almost certainly why I didn't run headlong into any fights. She wouldn't have been happy with it.

He listened to the conversation intently, as though he were seeking a point where making a comment wouldn't be considered a social faux pas; obviously, Arc had not seen one or was just incredibly bad at finding them. He was aware of weaknesses in enemy ranks and armor, but he couldn't find a way to interject himself into societal gatherings at all.

Then, she took a step toward him and he smiled calmly at @Birdie. Whether she noticed his discomfort with the situation and sought to ease it by  bringing him into the conversation with a cue, or she just wanted to talk to him, it didn't really matter too much one way or the other. Tobias was extremely thankful, and he mouthed the words 'thank you' so that she'd catch that fact.

When she said she'd enjoyed their date, his expression bloomed into something much brighter. "It's always nice to spend time with you, ma'am," he told her. "We'll have to go out again soon."

She had come halfway toward him and stopped, and he'd come the other half- a bit awkward when he realized it- and they were mere centimeters away from each other. His eyes blinked several times in rapid succession, and he let out a nervous chuckle. "Whoops," he said quickly, "looks like we had the same idea, then didn't follow through."

Arc put an arm around her in a warm embrace, nothing too excessively intimate, just to ensure the woman wouldn't feel out of place. After a moment, he released her and fell into step at her side. "So... I feel like I'm in the middle of a bunch of friends, and I'm the random friend of a friend."

His eyes moved between @Beatbox and @Itzal, and he wondered what he was missing. 

Just as quickly as he'd met the two players, they dispersed. Well, that counts as the easiest social interaction I've ever experienced. He watched as the man, @Itzal moved away toward a group of players nearby, among whom were people he actually knew. His eyes flicked first to Beatbox, the man who  had accompanied him on a daunting test of courage into the tenth floor's wicked darkness, then...

Arc blinked several times as he noticed Birdie talking to the others, and he gulped. How should he approach the situation? He didn't want to make things awkward in front of other players, and well... he was already pretty bad in large groups.

He settled on joining them and listening, which he did at a slow walk. Itzal spoke up and greeted the other two, Beatbox and Birdie seemed to know the man from somewhere, and Arc felt a bit out of the loop. 

He was definitely a fifth wheel.

"Maybe the fighting will start soon," he hoped with a grumble as he finally joined them. His hand moved with obvious insecurity through his hair as he looked across the gathered players.

There were so many faces. Some he knew, others he didn't, but none of it spurred him to speak much. "Hey, folks," he muttered, almost unintelligibly in greeting. From the sound of things, they were all a part of some group or something.

And here he was, largely a solo player.

The maid, who identified herself as Rin, welcomed them and Arc gave a respectful, slight bow. A man came closer to the Mercenary and extended his hand, then introduced himself as Itzal. "Arc," he returned the gesture with a brief shake. "And no," he added, "I've never met her before now."

That the man assumed he was romantically involved with the girl was amusing to be sure, but also somewhat embarrasing for Rin, no doubt. Arc folded his arms and faded into the backdrop of the conversation, one of his many talents born of social ineptitude. He listened to another woman interact with Itzal, who in turn identified himself as some member or another of a guild.

Arc never took the time to keep track of all the guilds in Aincrad. He had never joined one himself, nor was he particularly interested in doing so. There were others present, including...

"Oikawa," Arc murmured as he saw the man above. That was interesting. He had not seen the blacksmith in some time, but the more curious notion was a miscolored cursor that loomed over his acquaintance's head. He must have had to attack someone. Life gets pretty crazy on those frontlines, I guess.

He hammered out a quick message.

Quote

To Oikawa

Hey man, long time no see. Didja decide to take a few levels in "brooding over the lowbies," or are you just happening by?

Once he hit send, the mercenary turned his attention back to the group. He didn't want to bring unwanted attention to the higher level player, especially since he hadn't deigned to join them yet.

He listened to them speaking about the tournament and dancing, the second of which made him wholly uncomfortable. "I'm just here to watch the fighting," he murmured discontentedly.

Arc flipped through his menu idly as he waited, going over the morning's routine and reflecting on experience and items he'd procured. It was almost necessary to ensure that details were memorized in Aincrad, like where you got something or what enemies you've fought. Little things like that helped to keep you alive, and in turn they helped keep others alive as well. It was a habit he got into when he was doing virtually nothing else in order to make best use of his time.

He did look up periodically for the girl, since that was his main reason for being in Taft at all. Tobias looked forward to seeing Ava, and partly distracted himself simply out of the need to not feel nervous. At the same time, he was immensely excited and couldn't wait.

The young man had dismissed his weapon, but his cloak and bandages were practically ever present. He did, notably, wear the hood draped down his back to reveal his face. Dark hair and vivid green eyes were his most prominent features, and he had a soft smile that reflected the placid nature of his surroundings. Tobias glanced down at the river for a moment as the bustling crowd ambled past, and he ran a hand through his hair.

Naturally, of course, his hair was a darker brown. He'd used the system's aesthetic features to change it to black in honor of a fallen comerade, but no one ever asked about those things. He glanced up from the scenery to look for his date, and he saw the blue haired beauty headed for him at a quickened pace.

"Miss Birdie!" he greeted with a wave. "It's good to see you-" he took in her attire and felt woefully overdressed, but then, he didn't really take the time to collect new clothes. His drab black/gray gear was almost trademark at this point. "...you look great," he appraised as she approached

"Come," Setanta gestured for Arc to follow him. "Rest here for a while. We will discuss things and share drink. There is no reason you ought to spend all your time in training on your first day." The long haired bow smiled eagerly as he led the mercenary toward the nearby house and opened the door for him. As Arc stepped across the threshold, he marveled at what he found there.

"These are..." Arc looked around at runic symbols and depictions of great and ancient battle. Setanta spared a glance in his direction as the player stared on in abject wonder at different myths from throughout the distant past. "...Balmung," he whispered as he pointed to one image of a sword that had been lodged in the bark of a great tree, "and Excalibur." The telltale imagery of a sword sheathed in stone glimmered with faint light as he traced its lines with a finger, then looked to his mentor. "This is a collection of famous weapons," he said. "Swords and..."

"Spears, too," Setanta patted the image of a shaft stabbed deep into the heart of a foe proudly. "This is Gaebolga," he said. "Have you heard of it? Tell me you have, Arc."

"Gae Bolg," the young man uttered, "a spear that lodges in the body and cannot be removed but by-"

"You have heard of her," Setanta murmured affectionately. "The spear that will slay any foe. She is a treasure beyond words, and I firmly believe that her existence in this world is more than mere myth."

Arc thought that it was strange; if Cardinal truly created these quests, what was it attempting to tell him by leaving such a cryptic message? Was Setanta trying to tell him to seek out a mythical weapon? But he lacked even the beginnings of the skill to wield it!

"It will be mine," the man said as he looked at Arc. "I thought I should show you this," he said. "It gives you some ambition. Something to seek. Would you be willing to devote your training toward this cause?" he asked. "Or is there something else that drives you, Arc? Do you have some greater motivation?"

The mercenary smiled. "Yes, I reckon I do," he answered softly. "I want to slay powerful enemies, a weapon for my allies and a swift death to those who threaten them with harm."

"Well said, Arc," Setanta clapped merrily. "Well said."

"How do I train to get that quick?" he asked as the other man lowered his weapon and took a seat on the ground. Setanta looked up at him and smiled in amusement, but said nothing. "Is this one of those Miyagi things? Are you going to tell me that I'll eventually figure it out on my own and watch while I make a fool of myself?" The boy proceeded to let out a laugh.

"What is a Miyagi?" the NPC asked with a look like he was about to break into a fit of laughter. "And what are you talking about? I was going to wait for you to realize that the answer is always going to be the same when it comes to getting better. Practice. Come now, Arc, did you think that there was some sort of secret method that only I can give you? What is this, a game?"

You're hilarious, Cardinal.

"Continue with the same fundamentals until they are your own," Setanta answered with a yawn. "The only way to become a Master is to first be a beginner. That much should be obvious to anyone, no matter what the weapon." Arc listened intently, and he leaned his weight against the shaft of his weapon. "Also, you will want to get a spear to practice with. It does not have to be anything of great quality, mind. The ability to use a weapon does not depend on the make, but on how acclimated you become to it. Gradually get used to weightier spears until you can use the finest of them in battle. A spear with more weight is a spear with more innate power. Your body will continue to progress until it can resonate with your weapon, and you are a rival to the strongest indeed."

"I'll cut your throat out, you sick fu-" Arc began to speak in a cold, almost utterly rational voice before someone grabbed him by the mouth and whispered in his ear. His eyes traveled toward the offender, as if to say 'out of my way.' The eyes his met with shook slowly from side to side.

"Don't fall into that trap, guy," the man told him. "People like that, they want you angry. They want you to stop thinking and make mistakes. Do you want to play his game?" Arc knew the fellow was right, but that didn't stop him from seeing red. His gaze moved back to Addel and burned with malice he could not quite have conjured of his own volition. He still had fingers over his mouth, but the muffled curse words and promises of slow, agonizing death were almost too clear to visualize.

He almost never cursed, or when he did, he never did so in public or in mixed company. His father was vehement- you never do that sort of thing in front of a lady. In that moment where his anger was unleashed, he forgot every pretense of decorum and wanted so badly to put his weapon into the other man. He wanted to watch the health meter of his intended victim watch to zero, to witness his avatar scattered to all seven winds, and imagine the satisfaction of Addel in the real world as he suffered from the horrific brain death Kayaba had promised them.

Arc knew all of these things were wrong, yet with all his mind he wanted them. His soul cried out in anguish as he recognized that the darkness was winning, but he could not fight back. There was nothing in this world worth killing over- he thought. He had thought that. But this? This was certainly emeritus. Surely that man, the one who robbed Esther of the light of life, of the vigor that gave her the will to be kind, loving, and to give of herself to all those who sought aid was deserving of death?

That question made him waver in silence.

His rage continued to burn, but it burned colder with each moment that passed. He watched Esther as she struggled, and part of him ached to put the man to death as the other was torn away and shredded by the pain of knowing he had let the monster run free once more. God, what would she say if she saw me like this? I need to reign it in. I need to get it together. Come on, Tobias.

"A man grows weary, at times," Arc admitted. "I'm not the biggest fan of Urbus, but I'm still fairly low level and it was the closest town," he said. "And hell, anyplace I can get a drink is fine by me when it comes down to it."

He understood the reason the man slowed down and shifted topics. Subtle. I won't chase. This time. No reason to make him panic. "I have been here, on occasion," he said. "A drinking contest once, and then a meeting with another player. Nothing too special. It's not like this is some highlight of my time in Aincrad." Don't think there are too many of those, to be frank. Maybe one, at the most.

Arc bothered the man behind the counter for another drink. "Sounds like you're fond of Esther," he shifted suddenly. The man had taken time to notice nothing else beyond that woman's name the last time it had been mentioned. It would be good to see if it caused him to fumble a second time. "You into her, man? I didn't peg you for the type to go for damsels in distress."

The mercenary sipped at his drink when it came out to him, both eyes shut as he listened intently for the other man's response.

He felt pressure as his weapon was slapped away, but it did not fly from his hands. Arc kept his grip and twisted his body through the motion to maintain control of the stick, and Setanta praised him. "Good!" the youth called out as Arc came around again, and the blunt end of the weapon struck out in a quick thrust. "You're getting better with the reaction timing. You're starting to feel the weapon as though it's a part of you, just like a sword."

Arc turned the haft of his weapon hand over hand, sending it into a quick spin as Setanta deftly deflected his riposte. "You're a fast learner," his instructor remarked. "But you're still quite slow, I hate to say."

The blurred image of a spearhead barely registered as it stopped in front of his eyes. Arc felt his jaw slack as he reeled in contemplation over what he'd just witnessed. "So, Arc," Setanta asked him. "How many spears did you see?"

"Six... twelve... there were twelve," the mercenary murmured. He could barely grasp the images that still burned in his mind. "Easily twelve. How did you-"

"Wrong," Setanta held up a single finger. "There was only one. You can see it plainly, right here." The boy held up his weapon and allowed Arc to assess it. "You're focused heavily on response time and defense. A spear is a weapon for all out offense, Arc. You need to know how to defend yourself, but when you use a weapon designed specifically for the task of breaking through defense, you train to do that with all of your soul."

Arc felt his body shivering.

Arc heard the word "tournament" and figured it was in his best interest to watch. Other potential frontliners- particularly the damage dealer sort- enjoyed friendly competition to fine tune their builds or decide on what path they wanted to take moving forward. While he wasn't a master of any weapon by any means, seeing how other DPS used their point spread might offer him some insight into his own decision-making. 

Arc's emphasis had been on speed, thus far. There was some strength in the Athletics mod, but it was mostly conditioning and strength training that involved the means to best utilize his range of motion and considerably unhindered physique.

Perhaps most interesting to the Mercenary was how the game toned his avatar up once the points had been allocated. Muscles rippled with his movements, and his skin was tighter than it had been initially. He felt stronger and quicker than he did in real life, and it almost made him want to take the NerveGear off immediately in order to replicate the effects.

He let his cloak fall down over his abdominal muscles as he approached the location that the person had specified. The <<High Fields of Crossing>> were a popular dating spot for couples, but the scenery was easily enjoyed by any player. He glanced out over the pristine waters and smiled softly. "Not a bad choice for it," he remarked as a cool breeze washed over him. "It's a nice change of pace from dungeons and deep mazes."

He saw a girl in a maid outfit, and Arc tilted his head. "What an... interesting choice of attire," he muttered to himself, still too far away to be heard. "She must be the hostess."

Arc raised a hand in silent greeting, his intention to show he meant no harm. "Hopefully there's a decent turnout..."

"I can't imagine going into Tartarus without encountering any enemies," Arc muttered, mostly to himself. "Still, why would the game go to all the trouble of a quest with these parameters and give us virtually nothing to go on? It won't do anything to explicitly endanger our lives, but it also won't stop us from dying if we do it ourselves..."

He stopped after a moment and his brows knit together in a deeply contemplative expression. "It's a prison break," Arc announced, "so the idea is probably get in, get out, and avoid encounters if at all possible. I don't have any luck with my sneak and hide skill, but I'm quick on my feet."

Arc's eyes moved over to Beatbox, and he considered the man quietly for a moment. "I get the feeling we'll get some kind of 'hints' from NPC activity. We should be extremely observant, especially once we get inside."

Taft offered players who ventured there a rest after ten floors worth of hellish struggle. The previous floor was a literal hell, sculpted in nightmarish honor of he Underworld from Greco-Roman myth. It's polar opposite was the mirror of Tuscan life that awaited beyond the floor boss' chamber; the eleventh floor central city was magnificent in all of its rustic beauty. Of all things in Aincrad he had witnessed, Tobias enjoyed the atmosphere of Mediterranean culture most of all.

It was a place where people could forget their troubles and melt into the zest of a feeling akin to holiday. Herbal infused foods filled the city streets with their pungent, artful scents and beckoned to the empty bellies of hardworking players. The sounds of marketplace commerce were common here, though there was little stress overall. A bridge that spanned between two sides of the city stood over a gently flowing river, the bringer of life around which all life had arisen. It was a monument to the human struggle, something which all those trapped in Aincrad deserved to see, even if only once.

The cathedral that loomed in the distance from where he agreed to meet Ava had a distinct, protective allure. Those who sought refuge within were offered sanctuary in the olden way; while it was no substitute for a proper home or an inn, it did provide for some of the more destitute players to make ends meet. After all, Starting City could only house so many.

It was the autumnal leaves which capitvated Tobias the most. The seasons in Aincrad shifted in real time, and the chance to see those brilliant reds, oranges, yellows, and browns like back home called out to the deepest parts of his soul. He hoped they would touch Ava as well, especially after their last brush with death.

It's nearly time. She wanted to meet around 3- spend an afternoon, see the city at night. I thought that was a fine idea.

@Birdie