Corvo

His expression shifted quickly from confusion to thinly veiled rage. "Well, I'll be god damned," he uttered acerbically, ruby gaze locked on Alkor's own gold. "I finally found something you're wrong about, Cap." Corvo took a step closer to the man, which caused the Knight to instinctively give ground. With anyone else, he may have stood his ground. Evan, however, knew Thom far too well for that. If there was any ground for him to stand on, Corvo had ripped it out from under him in an instant. "Apparently hitting the fucker can bring people back from the dead. You know, I heard a lot of things. You were alive, you were dead, you had a girlfriend- don't even get me started on that," he jabbed a finger at the man's shoulder accusingly. "But for all the shit I heard, none of it came from you."

He stayed in the blonde haired player's face, giving him no chance to back down. He'd break him. That was already a foregone conclusion. He'd break him the same way that his ghosting had broken Evan. It was as much as he deserved.

"I ain't seen my parents in years, Cap," he continued. "I joined this god forsaken hell to be able to half out with you, and within a day of the nightmare, you weren't anyplace to be found. Do you know how lonely it is? Do you know how alone I've been?"

His eyes moved up for a moment and he caught sight of the other man's hair. "And what the hell is that? You dye your hair for some bitch? Pah, throw you behind the screen of a game console and your balls start dropping, is that it? Not once in all the time I've known you have you shown any interest, not since you were a kid and you pissed yourself when that girl talked to you. See, Cap, you can hide from these people who don't know you, but people like me? People like me already know what you are."

"You're being unfair, Eva-"

"Don't you fucking call me that. Don't say that name. That's too good for you."

Corvo felt his hands shaking as his voice raised, as spit flew from his lips and peppered the other man realistically. He reached up and cuffed the man, twisting and tossing him so that his back was pinned against the monument.

"No, you don't get to say my name," his eyes were wide now. He shoved harder, weight against the man's chest. Though he couldn't hurt him, he could see the fear in his eyes. Levels meant nothing here. Not like this. "You've literally fucked me out of years of life. Your actions have robbed me of my family and friends, just as much as this accursed game. You need to take some kind of responsibility, you know."

"What do you want from me?" Alkor shouted back. "It's not like I can just make you log out! It's not like I can apologize and make the past go away. You're just yelling at me!"

"And it feels good, too." Corvo hissed through his teeth as he leaned closer, his mind racing over thrilling, exciting, bloody ways to slaughter a man who was once his best friend. He knew that if this weren't a safe zone, he wouldn't beat Alkor in a fight. Still, it was more than he'd been able to do in several years. This was a slow burning inferno that had built up pressure for far too long. "Yeah, I got it. I thought your name was on this slab," his finger jabbed against the monument, just behind Alkor's ear.

"I reckon that'd make everything right, don't you Cap? If the last two years of my life weren't a waste because my best friend abandoned me."

Everything about the monument made his skin crawl.

Graveyards were culturally normal in most modern countries. The names of people who had been killed, like some veteran's memorial, mocked the survivors. This wasn't some kindness, it was a Reaper's Tally. How many more Aincrad had to claim before its work was finished. That was how he looked at it.

There were no familiar names, but many familiar causes of death. Boar, PK, suicide... all of them had in common that with a helping hand, most of them may have survived. Many of them were abandoned in their hour of need by their closest friends and loved ones. Corvo stared idly at the names, the causes of death, and he found himself less angry than pensive.

In some way, he was no different. Abandoned by everyone who he'd known, alone and prone to the inevitable with no hope of salvation. The only thing that spurred him forward was pride, the knowledge that he was better, that he could do something so many others had been wholly incapable of. The Frontline Players may have had things to be proud of. Their accomplishments seemed to get thrown in the faces of the weaker Players, like they weren't equal to the task of felling powerful enemies and clearing the path to freedom.

It almost made Corvo not want to be free.

Freedom meant that he'd have to thank those graceless bastards for something that had been lorded over him like some legendary tale. Freedom meant that the Frontliners had done him a favor, that he'd have to acknowledge that someone other than him contributed to his survival.

Those were lies. The filthiest kind of lies. With a scowl, his eyes darkened. If things had been different, maybe he would have been at the top, looking down. Maybe he would be the Hero, the Savior everyone looked to for guidance.

It was never to be. Corvo didn't want the limelight. The only freedom he ever wanted was freedom bought by his own hands. He'd accept no pale imitations. With that resolve, he took a step forward and threw a punch at the monument- fully aware that it wouldn't flinch, or be damaged at all.

The impact that followed shook him, but he took no damage. Instead, the words 《Immortal Object》appeared, as if to question his sanity. 

Skills

0/45 SP Remaining

Rank 4 War Axe 22 SP
Rank 3 Cloth Armor 14 SP
*Athletics Mod 4 SP

Base Damage: 8  Mitigation: 12 Accuracy: 3 Evasion: 0 Bleed: 12 Risky: 8 Recovery

"Yeah, uh," he blankly stared at the man for a minute as he rattled off something that sounded more like self-satisfaction than actually goodwill, but then, Corvo was jaded enough to know most people trapped in this world had developed hero complexes and probably thought they were doing god's work. "Thanks... I guess?" In reality, the words were only slightly kind, so it wasn't strange that the red haired Player took them sourly- even if that wasn't really the intention.

This guy didn't really seem like the type to say something he didn't mean, though. People who looked like Christmas trees were flashy and wore their hearts on their sleeve. It was textbook extraversion, at least, that was Corvo's prognosis. Someone who wasn't afraid to tell the world they felt pretty and there was nothing anyone else could do about it. Hell, sometimes Corvo felt pretty, too. Usually when he was stabbing something.

"Yeah, dumbasses," he repeated the sentiment albeit with some uncertainty about which direction he intended it. Absently, he glanced one last time to the others before he accepted the piece of armor. "You keep up the... work," Corvo shot Bahr finger guns as he backed toward the door, wary that some catgirl would jump out at him. When he made it to the exit, he saluted one last time before he turned and left, lighting up a cigarra as he went.

The smoke plumed behind him like a locomotive.

He showed up at the Tailor's shop quietly, or at least, more quiet than most of those who knew him might have expected. Corvo wasn't one to mince words when it came to results, and he needed better items if he wanted to make it in this world. The man who'd offered to craft him armor hadn't exactly been much for conversation at the time, but both of them probably appreciated that fact. Bahr seemed like the type of guy who wanted to keep busy and waste little time on idle chit chat.

Idle chit chat only made Corvo less tolerable, so that worked out best for both parties. When he arrived, he did so with just enough time to see an exchange between the shopkeep and a woman who he did not know. Corvo glanced between the two Players, but kept his thoughts to himself. He had a reason to be here, and it wasn't to heckle other people.

It wasn't... to heckle... other...

"Thanks for this," he said in the obligatory fashion to the man who he barely knew. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

If he kept it at that, he'd be fine. Part of him wanted to speak up about the purple haired woman who arrived just before him, but to start a scene in someone else's shop was bad manners... right? "Fuckin' shojo protagonist," he muttered to himself as he tore his gaze away from Arabelle and trained it on Bahr once more. "Whatta I owe ya?" he asked, readily counting out materials in his inventory to exchange goods for labor.

Now that he got a better look, the proprietor of the store had oddly colored eyes and white hair. It was like he'd died an ended up in an episode of AMV Hell. Was this some new trend he'd missed out on because he'd spent so much time sulking about his shit luck on the First floor? 

He didn't need a better motivator.

Current Level: 5
Current SP: 12
Link to SP Tracking: Here.
Item Upgrades:

Notes:
Updating Corvo!

The worst thing about the First floor of Aincrad were all the people who loitered there. Since most of the people had graduated to scaling the tower to some degree, the leftover dregs spent their time wasting away anywhere between the Town of Beginnings and Tolbana, and while he had some contempt for that kind of person, Corvo also thoroughly enjoyed having a laugh at their expense.

Cheap laughs were the only easy thing to get in Aincrad, after all. He was still low level himself, a product of enmity for his surroundings and existential emptiness that combined to drag him into a depression that lasted several long years. As a result, now he hated himself as much as he hated all the other people who had pissed that time away.

The natural recourse was, naturally, to lash out. To go out and look for the people who were lolligagging around and promptly rain on their parade was his vengeful respite. Today, he found it in Tolbana, surrounded by a Cadre of Players he had never met. Some of them didn't look new. In fact, some of them looked like they were strong, and suspiciously like they had no real business here at all.

He sneered as he looked among them for any of them who seemed like they did belong. The firebrand could smell weakness. He licked his chops as he slid into the group like he'd belonged from the start and listened for a moment, gauging the conversation.

Was there anything here worth taking the piss out of?

When Sketch spoke up, he snorted. "Wage slavery, huh? Man, that's a real incentive." 

There was something morbid about this world that crept behind even the brightest optimism, and Corvo loved to poke holes in it whenever it came up. But it wasn't until the man said that he wanted to watch the world burn that the red-eyed rascal really lit up. He wore a savage grin as he drove his weapon into the table. That solicited a barking series of words from the barkeep, to which Corvo paid absolutely no mind. His eyes were centered completely on Sketch. "You don't, do you?" he asked, a haunting madness in his words. "After everything this world has taken from us, you don't want to watch it burn. You're a real saint, aren't you? The kind of guy who just looks for the best possible outcome and holds on to the hope that it'll all work out. How's that going for you?"

He pulled back slightly as his gaze softened just a bit, and he moved his eyes toward the woman, Dazia. "You'd be cuter if you stopped trying to be edgy," he drawled, more dismissive than anything. Corvo rested his chin on the hilt of his dagger, not bothering to look up at the woman as he rocked back and forth, visibly bored. "You might be high and mighty where you come from, but in here, you're just like the rest of us. Trapped, helpless." He pulled back, stretched, and let out a mighty yawn. "Your threats are adorable and all that, but really, you're not saying much worth listening to. I just hate the sound of your voice."

Corvo glanced back to Sketch before adding, "and I was here first anyway."

The door bell jingled to herald the arrival of a player. Unfortunately, the Player was Corvo, and he looked more frustrated than anything. He glowered all the way to the clerk and placed a fistful of col on the counter. "I need an accuracy boost," he said. "This is all the money I've got. What can I get with it?" 

His eyes moved around the shop carefully as he waited for the response and listened carefully. Artistic and ornate, the wares seemed more like baubles than accessories; but inside of this game, even something like that seemed endearing. It was enough to make him want to throw up in his mouth. He muttered something unintelligible about how annoying some of the aesthetics were, but anyone trying to make out his words might only glean a string of profanity fit to humble a sailor.

After a few moments of visible annoyance, he took a deep breath and then sighed. None of his grumbling would change that he needed to improve his stats in order to move forward. He had to move forward in order to... well, why was he doing it? Didn't none of this actually matter? No- it wasn't that it didn't matter. He was tired. Tired of the others doing whatever they wanted, acting self righteous, treating him like he was less of a person because he hadn't gotten right to work becoming a frontliner.

He didn't care about any of that.

Corvo just wanted to stab something.

Quote

Small Peppermint Sack | In stock: 3 | 500col / 3 materials | TIER 1 PERFECT TRINKET | ACCURACY III
A small transparent sack of Peppermint; albeit, the candy inside isn't actually edible.

• [25/2/21] | #183849

"Tch."

Everything was loud and obnoxious. Not that he hated the atmosphere; if anything, Aincrad needed more excitement. It just made the booze taste worse, and that was a tragedy. "God, cry about it, why don't you?" he snapped at Dazia when she sulked about people who might try to kill her. "I've been listening to you bitch about it for as long as you've been sitting here. If you care so much what people think, don't give them a reason to hate you. By the way, you're doing a shit job of that. You're already the most annoying person I've met in this game."

He took a breath and exhaled, the bags under his eyes more evident as he released the tension that he'd let build a few heartbeats too long. Why let them get to him? They mattered about as much as he let them, and once he didn't even give them that much, things felt immensely better. When he glanced back to Koga, did so with a much more lazy expression. "You make it sound pointless to even have a job," he drawled, a bemused expression plastered across his face. "God, it almost sounds like this isn't such a bad place to be. Ain't that just peachy?" Corvo's shoulders sagged as he felt the part of him that hated this world burn with even more intensity. It sapped the realism from life and made things insane. 

Just like it had with him.

"God, well, now my beer tastes even more like piss," he sneered as he finished another healthy gulp. "And it doesn't even get me wasted. God, what a ripoff."

He slammed the mug back down on the table and looked from Koga to Sketch. "Think the Pils is any better?" he asked abruptly.

"Did I ask if you-"  Corvo started to become irritated with Koga's attitude. Did this lousy fuck seriously assume he wasn't listening to the conversation before he interjected himself? Pah! "Kids these days and their lousy manners, just assuming everyone only hears what they want to. I heard you say that you got the damn thing from a quest."

He began to lazily pick between his teeth with the tip of the blade, eyes glossing over as the man picked up his shitty sales pitch again. What, was everything in this game so bad that it drained the life and happiness out of people? God, that Kayaba Akihiko was a sadistic man. "So what you're saying is that professions are more like gambling than actual jobs," Corvo inferred from the way Koga was talking about probability and statistics. "That suits me just fine. I'm built for that kind of sinning. Gets my rocks off and all that happy shit."

Just a hair closer he leaned while the others started to get a little more rowdy. The girl peddling cookies got involved now, and she vocalized that she didn't know Koga despite what he'd said about selling her items. Around that same time, some odd guy dropped materials in front of the lot of them, and Corvo looked down at the table. His face scrunched up in confusion before he looked up again. "Man, if I never see another of these fuckin flowers again, it'll be too soon. You some kind of closet schadenfreude loving freak?" he asked of Raidou, affixing the man with a cold stare. "I mean, more power to you man, just don't pull your c-"

Before he could finish that thought, the emo kid that everyone seemed to be calling Dazia grabbed Raidou by the wrist and started to give him a stern talking to about touching her. Corvo exhaled, annoyed. He wasn't the most abrasive person in the room, for once. At any rate, he hadn't stabbed anyone yet, so they were actually doing fantastic.

"Anyway, looks like you've got ladies lining up to grab you. Won't even have to do all that."

He let out a snort, full of frustration. It was chaos in this room. Not that he didn't absolutely thrive on it.

Corvo started spinning the blade between his fingers, his cheek resting in the palm of his other hand. "You know what he's gonna tell you, right?" his crimson gaze turned to Sketch. "Come to my shop. I can handle all your needs for starting your adventure off right.' Something like that. Of course he's going to push his business- if the market's as fucked as ya'll said, predatory advertising is the only realistic option."  He shrugged and tapped the blade's edge on the table toward Koga. "No offense, obviously. I appreciate the new shank and all, I just thought I'd save you a few steps."

Items

Item Name: - Reaver's Edge
Item Tier: - 1
Item Type: - War Axe
Item Enhancements: - 2 Damage 1 Bleed
Description: - An axe with a serrated edge, guaranteed to leave a wound that will continue to bleed after it strikes.

Name: The King's Lament
Your Profession: Tailor
Item Type: Cloth Armor
Tier: 1
Quality: Perfect
Enhancements: Risky | Risky | Recovery
Description: "Once the loose fitting vest of a great king. When he was killed by his enemies, his spirit would not be laid to rest. That rage and despair linger, fueling the wearer's killer instinct."

Item Name: - Death God's Favor
Item Tier: - Tierless
Item Type: - Trinket
Item Enhancements: - Accuracy 3
Description: - A talisman fashioned in the shape of a skull with a blade driven through it. It emanates a foul aura, said to ensure the lethality of the bearer.

Thread List

Threads

The Frost Bites 

Where'd you get that stick? 

The first few lessons are free 

Together, now!

Profile

Username: Corvo

Real Name: Evan

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Height: 5'7"

Bio: Before SAO, Evan was a mild mannered teenage kid with a penchant for doing what he was told. Sounds pretty boring, right? Well, he grew up in a pretty traditional family, kept his nose clean, and did everything by the book. By the time he was considered an adult, life felt pretty boring. Like, cookie cutter, I'm sick of this shit, give me something interesting to do levels of boring.

He loved his parents, don't get him wrong. They wanted the best for him, and right up til he was able to make his own decisions, their way seemed sensible. The moment he was allowed to deviate from the course plotted for him, he did.

It was small at first. Rebellious energy focused toward drinking, smoking, hanging out with the wrong crowd- all the things he'd been deprived of struck at once. He got pretty saturated in a double life, and it inevitably caught up with him. Evan didn't his parents finding out about his bad habits, and so, he started to find better ways to hide them. By channeling that deviant behavior into new mediums, he was able to break away from the more negative influences and start playing MMOs. 

The friend group online was a bit more bland than his colorful friends in the outside world, but they didn't get him in trouble. He could cuss freely and do all the degenerate garbage his heart desired, so long as his family didn't glance over his shoulder. That's where he met some of his closest friends- which'll be on the test. Write that down.

When Ev heard about Sword Art Online, he was down. Hook, line, sinker. Virtual reality, a world where he didn't have to be himself, where that degenerate could come to life and do all the horrific shit that he wasn't able to do in the real world? He bought the NerveGear with his savings and didn't even bother listening to his parents when they put their foots down.

It was time for him to escape. While the helmet was on his head, none of their opinions mattered. At least, that was what he'd thought… before release day.

Virtues

The Faintest Glimmer: His memories of his family and friends are ever present. Though he generally overtly rejects them, there are times when fond thoughts enter his mind. In these moments, he is more gentle and easy to deal with, and at times may be prone to less volatile action. These things pass quickly, but they make for the best time to talk to Corvo and exhibit a glimpse of humanity in the void of his mind.

Stocism: For someone as overtly chaotic as Corvo, he doesn't wear his emotions on his sleeves. He hides his real motives and thoughts behind the facade he's carefully created. Where others see madness, his vision is clear. Even the things that hurt him drown in it, at face value.

Pride: The best and most effective way to appeal to Corvo is to stroke his ego. A proud man by nature, he will do everything he can to be the best at what he does. While the world is just a game, it's a game he's playing. He hasn't forgotten that part. Though pride does carry a hefty cost: when someone insults his, he has to make sure he can throw it back in their face. A man never backs down from a challenge, after all.

Ultraviolence: Corvo loves to fight. There's nothing he loves better than a brawl, and so, he looks for any and every opportunity. As a veteran DPS Player in other MMOs, he intuitively knows and understands his role and in that capacity, he's absolutely perfect. If only he wasn't such a bastard.

Flaws

I am whatever I want to be: Corvo is the manifestation of absolute self-indulgence. When Evan joined the game, his entire mentality was that he wanted to escape from the expectations placed on him. Instead of a healthy coming to grips with the reality of Aincrad, Evan rejected everything. The world had forced itself on him, and he vowed that he'd force himself back onto the world. He refuses to relate to the general person with any sort of human empathy. They're Players. This is a game. If they don't like it, they shouldn't have logged in. 

Haunting Echoes: Evan's closeness to his family is a soft spot. He has no support system in Aincrad, and even the closest people to him keep him at arm's length. He doesn't actively reach out for help, though occasionally he seeks new information from those who will readily part with it.  People who dig too deep into his personal life generally get burned: he doesn't want to connect with people in this world. He doesn't want anything to remind him of what was left behind. If the day comes where he makes it out alive, he'll consider regretting it then.

Carpe Omnia: Seize Everything. Give nothing in return. Evan's self-indulgence has grown into debilitating, narcissistic nihilism. He doesn't see any light, and whenever he does, his lost hope quickly eclipses it. Instead of hanging on and seeking a positive outlet, he drowns in a darkness that no one can reach through. Because of this, he's content to drag others into the darkness- misery loves company.

Manifest: Corvo is the Fool. His essence is one of depravity, a man lost and beyond salvation. Outwardly, he exhibits signs of irritability and volatile rage, mixed with perversion and a notoriously foul mouth. He can be the funniest man in the room, or the most vicious. It all depends on the timing.

Story so far: When he logged in, he didn't know anyone. He didn't log in because he wanted to know people. Evan had his core friend group, and all of them planned to meet and play together once they were in game.

That never happened.

His friends Tobias and Thom allegedly joined, but embroiled in the chaos of day one, he never found them. While they went on to gain strength and had their own adventures, Evan lost himself in depression. A mix of drinking alcohol that didn't give him a buzz and thoughts that brought him to the edge destroyed his mental health.

Fortunately- or perhaps unfortunately- Evan was a proud man. Too proud. He refused to lose that battle to himself. The demons in his mind couldn't drive him to end his life. Instead, they twisted him. Filled with hate and rage, he started his journey and even met Arc, one of the two friends that he was supposed to find at the beginning. With the tragic news of their mutual friend's death, Tobias became obsessed. He started looking for ways to revive the dead, despite fully knowing that it was futile. With both his friends lost to the game, Corvo began to sink. He only had life outside to look forward to- but would he ever make it?

He met Mari, a woman who claimed to be in love with Thom at some point, and eventually discovered that one of his closest friends had not died, but was alive and well. Armed with that knowledge, he fully embraced that he'd been betrayed. Tobias had left to find Thom, and Thom was alive- with no intention of reaching out.

Evan didn't need anyone. He was alone- and that was just fine with him. Hell or high water, he'd find his way home.

Someday.

Corvo - Level 9

180/180 HP 36/36 EN

• Total EXP: 4182
• Total SP: 45
• Current Level: 9

4 Damage 1 Bleed

Previous Journal found here

Directory Post

The blade that lodged in the table in front of him immediately triggered Corvo.

As if the day wasn't bad enough, he now had to worry about someone tossing a weapon at him. Ineffectual though it would have been in the safe zone, it was another experience to add to his list of reasons why today was awful. He gripped the hilt of the blade and ripped it free, brandishing it menacingly as he turned to vent his frustrations at the first person he saw. Then, Koga apologized and told him that he could have it. With a priceless expression on his face, the Red-Haired youth glanced back at the weapon and scrutinized it with all the skill of a blade enthusiast.

It appeared to be the top quality of weapon that someone his level could use. From what he knew about the game, getting this thing was like the best possible thing that could happen. Suddenly, he couldn't be quite as mad about it flying into his face and almost cutting a chunk out of his flesh. He was conflicted. "Hell of a way to give something to someone," he settled on that, because it was about as argumentative as he could manage without sounding entirely ungrateful. "You must enjoy throwing random weapons at people." He noted the rest of the group as he took his mug from the counter and swigged off it. The conversation overall sounded pretty boring as he got closer, so he didn't engage about cookies or studying, but the Blacksmithing stuff? Now, that might be something worth hearing.

Corvo spun a chair around near where Sketch and Koga were sitting and reclined with his arms folded on the back of it, legs straddled on either side. He leaned forward, bringing the front legs off the ground so he could get a bit closer to the two men. It almost seemed like a clandestine meeting, and they were discussing some kind of great secret. 

"I'll take what he's having," Corvo crooned, pointing with the tip of his new knife toward the other new Player, Sketch. "I wanna hear more about Blacksmithing."

Corvo equips <Dagger of the Sands>

Updated Stats: 100/100 HP 20/20 EN 4DMG 1 BLD

He wobbled into the bar just after finishing a quest, visibly grumpy. It would be one thing if the swill in this god-forsaken place actually gave him a buzz, but all he ever got out of the deal was the flavor. He was already let down and he hadn't even sat down yet. With a scowl, he pulled a stool out from under the bar and took a seat, lifting a finger to sign the to barkeep that he wanted a mug. When the drink came, he hammered it back like a thirsty man slogging water. His crimson gaze found the man, startled by the vehemence with which he slammed the alcohol and tapped on the counter. Another drink came ready within several seconds. "Ought to pace yourself," the man warned.

Corvo eyed him. "I am pacing myself," he retorted venomously. The man put his hands up to signal that he meant no harm, and Corvo turned his attention back to the drink. Doesn't even taste decent, he glowered in silence, back still turned to the group of Players that gathered seemingly to celebrate something. 

After a moment, the red haired Player gleaned something about what they were talking about. Friendship. Working together, trusting each other- all the bullshit that made him want to scream. Friends? In this place? He didn't even have the ones who he thought would be there until the end. They were in the world, evidently. They hadn't reached out. Only Mari's word gave him any certainty about that fact, and he did have a reason to believe that the pink haired... no, orange now, wasn't it? Anyway, he didn't think she had any cause to lie to him about that. All the knowledge she had about Alkor couldn't have just been a coincidence.

But if the Captain was here... then he'd abandoned the Brotherhood. He'd abandoned Corvo. 

"Fuck'im anyway," Corvo slurred, polishing off his second drink within a minute. When the next came, he let out a growl. With a click of his tongue, he turned to glare at the group, which only got louder as the other newcomer offered everyone samples of her baking. He stared hard at each member of the group in turn. Newbie... newbie... newbie... a couple of them looked out of place, but most of them looked like the starry-eyed type, the ones who would talk so carefree about friendship and magic like they didn't have a care in the world. He'd have done them the service of a blade to the throat already if the System didn't prevent such actions inside the city.

Nah. On second thought, they weren't worth the trouble, or the effort. When the guy who called himself Sketch mentioned different types of booze and weapons, it occurred to Corvo that he might just have written them off too quickly. Maybe listening to them talk might actually turn out useful. "You want another?" the man behind the counter questioned. Corvo glanced back at him.

"Keep 'em coming," he replied icily. The man rolled his eyes as he turned back to the tap and poured another round.

Corvo 

Level 5 100/100 HP 10/10 Energy | 2DMG

Thread complete

Corvo gains (1<page>+2<quest>+1<bonus>)4 SP and 400 Col

AND

- 5 Tier One Health Potions of Rare quality. (+40 HP)
- 1 Tier One Damage Potion of Uncommon quality. (+1 Damage)
- 1 Tier One Over-Health Potion of Special quality. (+50 HP to maximum HP for remainder of thread)

Corvo pulled the dagger from its sheath again, this time with every intent to use it. He broke into a proper run. This world ain't so bad sometimes, he thought as the wind blasted against his face and through his hair. The first floor was only the beginning, but it gave him a good taste of what this world had to offer. He felt his lungs fill with air and his heart pound against his chest, even the blood in his veins.

He'd not felt this alive in a long time.

In the days when he was young, the man behind the avatar spent his time sparring and fighting in a reckless attempt to be the best among his peers. He got competitive, he threw himself headlong into any conflict just to taste victory; but to Evan, even defeat was sweet.

He only felt alive when he was fighting.

Now, his fight was about to begin in earnest. It was a for his life; and he wouldn't have it any other way.

He found himself questioning the extent of his goodwill by the time the conversation ended. Readily accepting every quest as they were offered was a good policy for gaining experience, but he wasn't strong enough to handle some of the things thrown at him alone. He needed to find a healthy way to improve himself, something that had a low risk and high reward. This chain was about to throw him, very literally, to the boars.

Corvo was facing the world outside the safe zone again, and this time he wouldn't be avoiding the mobs. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, imagining what life would be life if he hadn't logged into the game. Where would he be right now? Would he be fearful of his life every single time he walked out of his house?

No.

It was that answer that told him what he had to do. Corvo had never been the type to shy away from a challenge. Even in the real world, he tackled things head on and enjoyed the struggles that were thrown his way. The fear of death did not dissuade him then, and it wouldn't do so now. He took that first step with a bit more swagger, smirking even.

This was gonna be a good ass time.

Corvo walked through the Town with the package in his arms, carefully plotting his course toward the destination marked on his map. Once he was there, he placed it down on the porch and knocked. "Hey there," he called out, "I've got a package for Lyle Tealeaf? It's from-"

"Ah, yeah, the package from Zackariah! He told me he'd be sending someone. Bring it right on in!" Lyle stepped away from the anvil with hammer still in hand, waving Corvo on in. "Thanks so much, I've been waiting on those tempers. Special orders take a bit of extra love to complete, you know how it is."

For once, Corvo did know how it was. He understood exactly what Lyle was talking about; but instead of starting them down a conversation rabbithole, he only nodded. "Yeah, don't mention it," he said with a quick wave. "I've got some other stuff to take care of, so-"

"Actually, if you have a few minutes, I've got something I'd like help with. You seem pretty reliable, so I figure asking you might actually be the move."

He stretched out his arms and gave a loud yawn. With his task complete, the quest was done. He watched the experience bar tick up gradually, somewhat let down by the fact that it didn't actually feel any different to level up. With a VR experience, he halfway hoped that becoming stronger had some actual effect, like puberty or something.

(Ok, so it wasn't a perfect parallel.)

Idly, Corvo pulled his dagger from its sheath and began to examine it. The weapon wasn't anything special, it was just the one he got upon creating his character. "Sure would like something prettier," he muttered to himself as he picked his teeth with the tip of the weapon and scowled. Aincrad was bigger and more difficult than he ever anticipated it would be.

Now, he just needed...

"Could you do me a favor?" Zackariah asked him suddenly.

Corvo glanced back. "Depends," he answered, "if it involves brewing another potion, I'd honestly rather gouge my eyes out."

"This package," the man produced a neatly boxed item and handed it off to Corvo. "Could you deliver it to the Blacksmith, Lyle Tealeaf for me? I would really appreciate it."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. No problem buddy."

Instead of argument, Corvo immediately threw himself into the labor once more. He knew the motions, the grinding with pestle and mortar, the proper ratio for emulsion, and the carefully churned viscosity that gave the craft its particular flavor. While health potions weren't necessarily delicious, there was an art to making them palatable. Zackariah taught him that.

Now he'd know what to give the Alchemists shit for, later.

As he toiled over the table, the old man crowded him and watched intently. "Ah ah! That's enough, that's enough!" Corvo pulled his arms back reflexively when Zackariah spoke. "Almost overdid it there! I commend your audacity though! Not many people take quite so long to figure it out, but you've done it!"

"Yeah, that's... not a complement."

"I have some things for you, since you've successfully completed the task I've given you," Zackariah told him, unshelving several potions which he turned over to the low level Player. "These will be useful to you in your travels. Feel free to use them however you like, as a token of my appreciation."

"Yeah, thanks," Corvo said as he sent the items to his inventory. 

ID# 183522 Craft: 6 (Success! Uncommon potion crafted)

He felt the scream welling up in his throat, but managed to bite it back. Did he really have to do this? It felt unnecessary, especially given that he had no interest whatsoever in alchemy. If he was going to choose a profession, it'd be something that let him play around with knives and swords. Y'know, the good stuff.

Corvo watched intently- or, as intently as he could manage- as the man went through the motions another time and nodded vacantly. "You know, I just don't think I got what it takes to be a Master Drug Dealer." Old Man Zackariah only laughed and continued to brew the potion, then when he finished, set it to the side and gestured for the Player to take the wheel.

"Now..."

"Fine." Corvo threw up his hands and set to work grinding the herbs down to a paste. That part, at least, was easy enough. The more times he attempted it, the easier it seemed to get; but the small details still escaped him. Once he got to the emulsion, too much liquid diluted the mixture, and yet again he failed to craft the intended potion.

He shot the old man a venomous glare.

"Again!"

He moved toward the burner and stared down at it incredulously. "Yanno, man, I gotta be honest with ya, I failed chem class twice in High School," he said, backing slowly away from the workstation. Zachariah caught him by the shoulders and spurred him forward with just a bit of extra push. 

"Nonsense, it's much easier than you might think," the old man never stopped smiling and chuckling as he spoke, moving toward the flame and guiding Corvo's hands toward the bottle, then the materials in turn. "First, you..." he made a movement that the redhead only slightly saw the whole of, but continued regardless. "...and then...!"

"Yeah, I missed that whole thing," Corvo shook his head, "look I'd be glad to pick you some more flowers, but I really don't wanna burn your house down."

"I'll show you one more time," Zachariah told him, "and I'll slow it down a bit. Pay close attention, you're going to give it a try."

When he returned to Zachariah, the man greeted him warmly. "Ah, you've returned! I trust you were successful in gathering the reagents I asked for?"

"Got 'em right here, as requested," Corvo held out the items to the man, who accepted them with a broad smile. "Weren't no easy thing, lemme tell ya. Swear to Christ if I had it to do again I'd just as soon pay someone-"

The kindly old man only chuckled as the young firebrand waxed poetic about his woes. "Here, here, I promise it will all be worth it if you just follow me. I'm going to have you help me craft a potion."

"Eh? A potion? With flowers? This ain't some kinda weird Aincradian Meth is it?"

"Healing potions are the most commonly used items by Players in their adventure," Zachariah explained, "so I thought you might benefit from knowledge on how crafting works here. I've taken the liberty of preparing a work area for you, fully stocked with everything you will need. Are you ready?"

"Well, it'd be rude of me to say no at this point," Corvo shrugged helplessly. "Alright, old man. Show me how to break bad."