Corvo

"You know what I hate?" Corvo asked the wind wasp as it flitted too close to him, one too many times. He gripped it by the wing and tugged, hard. As he drove his dagger down its abdomen, it split into a million fragments of data. "You, mostly," he spoke to the deceased mob, "but pretty much everything else, too."

As the Rogue fell to the grass in a graceless mess of black fabric, he glanced up and spied a pink haired woman in the distance. That wasn't something he saw everyday.

...and the cursor that marked her was even rarer. "Hot damn," he smirked. This was either the quickest way out of Aincrad, or a good time. Or both. Corvo wasn't arsed one way or the other.

He hurried toward her, and just as she got close enough for him to hear, he thought he heard her say something about someone. Coulda been anyone, though. Not important.

"Howdy," he greeted with a curt wave. Her last words had been relatively audible, and so he seized the opportunity like any good scumbag ought.

Carpe Diem.

"That an invitation, gorgeous?"

"Fighting things and drinkin'?" Corvo replied with a hint of excitement in his voice. "Mother F**K, I LOVE THIS GUY." He took a step forward and extended his hand in a merry shake. "I got all the time in the world," he replied. "Not leavin' anytime soon."

The man seemed taken aback by his greeting, and Corvo blinked. "Why," he answered, "whatever it is needs killin', friend," the Crow spun his weapon deftly in hand and cut idly into the virtual data that made up his flesh. He didn't seem to pay any mind to how it diminished his health. "What else would I kill? I ain't fussed, and ain't much else to do."

Aereth seemed the type of fellow he could get along fine with. No abrupt qualms with his demeanor- hell, the man even seemed content to play along. He liked that. "Tell ya what," he lifted his pinky finger and pointer in the heavy metal 'devil horns' fashion, and grinned wickedly, "let's slay us a few boars, then see what happens when we get back to town."

@Aereth

The kid was lucky, this time.

Corvo snapped his head around and managed to completely miss seeing the would-be assailant. That was probably for the best. The Assassin had a glowering expression that spelled violence for pretty much anyone who pissed him off. That wasn't hard to pull off.

When his eyes fell on Lessa, his mood lightened just a bit. The cute blonde from before. He had hit on her and she hadn't seemed totally averse to him. That at least made her fun to talk to, if not interesting enough to drag to an inn and pretend to have meaningful conversations with her.

No, Corvo liked to keep it real. He wasn't gonna pretend to be in love with anyone. That didn't mean he wouldn't have some fun.

"Well, well, Blondie," he greeted, his grip on the dagger going lax. It slipped calmly back into its sheath and his cloak fell over it. "Must be fate, runnin' into you like this. What say you 'n me disable our ethics protocols and paint the town white."

He smirked. "Or we could just grab a beer, and see what else the night has to offer?"

It was about that time when another guy came out of seemingly nowhere- well, not nowhere; but lets be honest, Corvo wasn't paying any attention to him before that moment- and spoke to @Lessa. Corvo shot the man a dirty look, but didn't interrupt their heartwarming reunion. 

"Encountered eh? In a tavern? Two guys at once?" He winked over toward @Morgenstern and then looked back to Lessa. "Hell, I'm not opposed. Let's spice things up a bit."

"Mmmmm..." Corvo listened as the other man went on about existentialism for a moment, and preparedness for the futility of existence. Grade A positivity, this guy. His eyes glazed over with palpable disinterest before the other man seemed to react in confusion to what the Assassin had said.

He measured the look of obvious confusion and replied with a short, maniacal laugh. "Well let's get this party STARTED!" 

Corvo swiped the air in front of him and went through all the motions to form a group. He found Wolfie and added him. "Name's Corvo," he introduced himself, "cha can call me Crow if'n you prefer." He half bowed, and a hand slipped toward his waist.

He spun the dagger from its resting place near his hip and ran a finger along the blade, rising to his full height. "Long as I get to run a few sods through, I'll help with any quest ya like, monsieur Wolf."

His grin was feral, almost canine. "What say we bleed some bastards dry?"

"Well, smack my ass and call me Cindy," Corvo hooted, "that was unexpected."

He watched as the two creatures were removed from the playing field and turned his gaze toward the newcomer, Aereth. "I coulda taken 'em," he sulked for a heartbeat as the man introduced himself. "Oh well, though. They're dead, I'm not- that was the plan from the get go, so it looks like you done me a favor. I guess I owe you one." Corvo blinked. "I don't like that. How can I make it up to you so we're even?"

Where had the man come from? That' what Corvo wanted to know. His eyes moved between different angles of approach, and none of them made sense. At least, they didn't make sense in the straightforward way. If the man had literally appeared from nowhere, he could chalk it up to some skill that he hadn't encountered yet. Was stealth a thing in Sword Art? If so, then he needed to take the time to invest in it. No good killer wants to attack head on, after all.

"Name's Corvo, by the way. Corvo the Crow. I kill things." Abrupt and crass as ever, the man split no hairs about who he was or what he did. He looked Aereth up and down, noting the light armor and his choice of weaponry. They had a similar skillset, at least. Aereth was slightly ahead in terms of level.

"So..." he began, not sure where to go from that point. Talking to people was literally the last thing on his to do list. It happened sometimes, obviously. "...know any hot chicks?"

It takes three seconds for something to go from "good" to "really, really bad."

In about half that time, Corvo managed to score the killing blow on a boar and find himself faced with two others. "You've got to be kidding me," he growled as data streamed away from his victim and scattered back to rejoin Aincrad in wide open white space. Two at once? I'm good, but I don't know if I'm that good just yet." His gaze moved from one to the other, then away as he considered a third option. "Gahd dammit," the assassin muttered, "I can't just run away."

He spun the blade deftly in hand and twisted his body to face both beasts in a low, balanced stance. "Dunno how I'mma pull this off," he said, "but I'M HAVIN' PORK FOR DINNER TONIGHT, LADIES!" With that, he rushed forward into the thick of two very grumpy boars, both of whom wanted nothing more than to fill him full of holes and send him packing right off Aincrad. In their bestial red eyes, he saw his own expression reflected.

"Let's do this," he hissed as his body moved completely on instinct. It would be several moments before he engaged them proper, more than enough time for someone to notice his predicament and wedge themselves into it, if they felt the unction. That said, he fully expected to go this alone, and he wasn't going to go begging for help. He'd made his bed, and he'd lie in it.

"Okay," he huffed as he dodged out of the way of one attack, "you're definitely a Sally," he pointed to the first boar with the tip of his blade, spinning his body out of the way of its vicious attempts to gut him. "And you?" he called as the second boar flailed its head in his direction. "You're a Bob. No one likes Bob. I'm gonna have fun kickin' your ass." Corvo launched himself airborne, a quick spin that took him over the creature's head and landed him at its flank.

"Sally," he nodded, "Bob. Good to meet you both. This here-" he stroked his dagger with one hand, "this is Victoria. She's good an' hot, and she wants to taste yer blood. Don't be shy."

Both boars snorted their indignation, though neither understood what the hell he was saying.

WHY WAS HE TALKING TO BOARS ANYWAY?

"Yeah, okay, I'm bored, and I'm stuck inside a video game. Sue me."

Dude. Don't talk to the narrator. Fourth wall breaks aren't cool.

"You're not cool."

@Aereth

Was this guy... talking in the third person? Corvo folded his arms and stroked his nonexistent chin hairs as the tone of the other player shifted from thoughtful discourse to drab exposition, and he cut in. "Hey, hey, Edgar Allan woe is me, this is a two way conversation, let's not take a detour through existential dread."

He pulled once more from the pipe and puffed it quickly without ever taking the device from his mouth. "And let's not pretend I know anything 'bout you, or you 'bout me. We all not what happens when you assume." His fingers wavered somewhere near the dagger at his belt, not threateningly but as a sort of unspoken promise.

"You wanna know somethin' 'bout someone, most folks'd agree that the best way's to ask 'em. Ain't never gonna figure out nothin' by tryin' to guess, or defining who they are in your mind. Expection..." he made a gesture with one hand curled into a fist and the other palm open. The two collided, and the open hand swallowed up the fist. "...reality."

He pulled the pipe into hand and closed one eye, appraising the other man with obvious criticism. "You know what I think? You're stuck on this whole calculatin' thing to the point where you ain't functioning proper in the emotional sense. This calls for a jump start."

He threw up a finger as an idea came to him. "...we gotta get you laid." Corvo shook his head, "but first, you gotta put a blade in something. Nothing gets the blood pumpin' like a good 'ol fashioned stabbin'. ...like, literally. Gettin' stabbed throws yer body into overdrive and the blood starts pumpin' harder."

Corvo stopped for a moment and cleared his throat. "Anyway, the important thing is, chicks dig stabbins."

God knows, Corvo wasn't a paragon among socialites. What drew him toward this crowd was less a desire to interact and more a vague, if morbid interest in what people trapped inside video games came together to talk about. As anticipated, they maintained hold of his attention span for the time it took to spin his pipe twice and lift it to his lips.

When his eyes slipped shut, the deviant youth took a seat amid the snow drifts and folded his arms, body language that spoke to the tune of "screw off."

Despite his frankly unkind demeanor, Corvo listened as different things happened all around him. Snowball fighting kids more prominently than anything else. "Feels like Michigan," he spat in monotonal disgust. "I hate Michigan."

The smoke cleared his head as he let it out all at once, a practiced release that almost felt like he was exhaling every care in the world. "Wonder how the fam's doing," he pondered absently. He thought of them fondly, and often. 

Of course, never around people he didn't know. There was Corvo, and there was the man behind the mask. The two were separate. They had to stay that way.

This world couldn't have the real him. It didn't deserve him. He wouldn't give it the satisfaction.

When a stray snowball struck him upside the head, Corvo's eyes snapped open. "Okay," he hissed. "Who's the wise ass what's about to get strung like a fiddle?"

"Still too much thinkin'," Corvo replied intently as he gnawed thoughtfully on the stem of his pipe. "Someone comes to hurt my friends, I hate 'em. That's easy. I fight 'em, I stop 'em." He took in another draw of the smoke and plucked the device from his lips, using the butt end to point toward the other man. "He makes it to where I can't stop him, then hell with it. He better not let me go free, 'cause I'll kill his ass."

Make no mistake- Corvo was a thinker, but he understood the merits of human emotion more than most people. His own experience was stifled well into his teen years, so the moment he was given freedom, he reveled in it. To Corvo, this man was the epitome of his former life, the one that he left behind with a smile. That didn't make him mad- it made him want to understand why someone would do that to themselves.

"But if you want a process analysis of happiness, might be you ought to do something that you enjoy. Unless yer one of them emo kids what don't enjoy nothin' and bleeds black, blah blah feckin' blah."

The Assassin replaced the pipe in its proper position and closed his eyes, a languid smile on his face. "'s why you smoke, right? Gives you a release, or an escape from the worst parts of this world. Ain't no point if it don't, is there?"

For Corvo, it didn't matter if the world burned. Not so much. What mattered was his own experience, and the few people who managed to touch him.

...sexually or otherwise.

The sunlight felt warm, just like back home. It felt like the whole world was mocking him, sending cool air that felt like Fall weather back home to jeer his predicament. The pale youth tugged at his scarf and brought the vivid pattern up over his mouth to obscure the virulent scowl he almost always wore beneath. Aincrad was a sick divine comedy, and Kayaba the sick god pulling at the strings.

His mood was destined to remain bitter and bleak, it seemed. Unlike the other portion of his friends in the game, this had been intended as a way to pass time. He wasn't nearly the hardcore some of the others were. He had things to do outside the game, things that were fun and that involved other people. Corvo had always been more social than the others.

So being trapped in this world, where he hardly liked anyone- this was like being young and in a harsh, unforgiving enviornment all over again. The difference was, this wasn't the same boy who went through that youth with blinders on. This was Corvo. "Here I stand," he muttered dic... erm... dagger in hand."

It was about that time when he heard someone above him prattling on about something. His gaze shot upward, along with one of his eyebrows. "The NPCs?" he asked aloud. "I think you're overthinking it."

He turned so that his back was to the tree, and he leaned backward. With a slow motion, Corvo drew the pipe from his inventory and joined the other man in the silent ritual of bonding called 'smokes.' Technically, there was no actual bonding, and no one really got anything out of it but a good buzz- but it's the thought that counts, right?

With a quick puff, Corvo added his pollution to the enviornment and his glassed-over eyes watched the dark cloud dance rhythmically overhead. "Yeah," he muttered. "Definitely overthinking. Happiness ain't a thing you can put labels on or drudge up on force of will. Fact is, tryin' to do that'll only put you farther from it. Feelings ain't logical. Ain't rational. Can't get to 'em by thinkin'."

He made an obscene gesture with his hips, like he was pressing forward into something. "Gotta take 'em, if you know what I'm sayin'."

When he came down on one foot, Corvo felt the weight sag backward awkwardly. The soft dirt threatened to swallow him up, and he quickly balanced himself with the other leg in a hurtle stretch, one hand against the lush green grass. "Gah," he spat as he gave up the advantage he had won early in the fight. His speed was impressive for a new player, sure, but that meant next to nothing if he wasn't on the move. "That was embarrassing."

The boar rushed at him with its head tilted low, intent on poking two holes in his prone form. The nimble youth was not about to let that happen. He ducked backward in his low crouched position and allowed the beast to rush over his head, eyes intent on the creature's fattened stomach as it raced overhead. That was the meal ticket. A good stab or two in its weak spot would put an end to the immanent threat.

How to get to that point, though? In light of his most recent dodge, Corvo had all but sacrificed mobility in favor of safety. He had to take back the initiative, lest the boar overtake him and force him onto the defensive. He snapped upright and gripped his weapon tightly, eyes focused on the target. This would be fun, he decided.

Of course it would be. He got to stab something.

Boar: 7/10 HP

Corvo: 20/20 HP // 0/2 E

He moved with the swiftness of a master murderer. Corvo surged toward the boar at high speed, his dagger clutched in a reverse grip as it trailed along behind him. The beast seemed alarmed by his hurry, and it twisted to keep eyes on the fleet footed threat. 

The Assassin took a single step, and the swine let out a panicked yelp. He brought the blade round in a vicious arc that the boar was too slow to evade. A red line blossomed into view across its features, and Corvo threw himself backward just before the mob managed to swing its tusks in defiance.

"WELL, I'LL BE," the red haired riot called out as his adversary stumbled. "LOOKS LIKE IT DO." 

With a wild look burning in both eyes, the knife fighter rolled the hilt of his weapon between three fingers in rapid succession and turned the blade over and back. His tongue swept across the blade, which would have been bloody under less digital circumstances.

"DANCE WITH ME, ANNA!" he called to the boar, having decided it needed a pet name.

Boar: 7/10 HP

Corvo: 20/20 HP 1/2 E

He'd seen a lot of things in his life, but Corvo was definitely not used to midgets with huge racks.

The impact caused him to fumble his pipe, and the apparatus hit the ground and scattered into data. His eye twitched ever so slightly at the loss. "You ought to work on that," he commented without so much as a thought for propriety. It occurred to him that most people might apologize profusely, or ask to be sure that the other person was alright.

Corvo was definitely not most people.

"So, hey," he quickly followed up his brusque retort with another, totally unrelated thought. "I've got to ask, do you have back problems?"

The Assassin turned his gaze from the woman toward the inner city, where he would probably have to go to find a replacement for his favorite item. The lack of smoke would not bother him for an hour or so, but his mind had an addiction that the game hadn't fostered. It gave him a sense of security that helped the lad to deal with the obvious issues inherent to being trapped inside a video game.

He absently ran his fingers over the hilt of his dagger, still sheathed at his hip. When he looked back, the girl who had bumped into him was still standing there, albeit short enough that he had to look down to realize it. "You're still here?" he sounded skeptical.

There wasn't much to be said for the first floor. People came, people went, and people sucked. Technically, they sucked a lot less than Corvo would have liked. At least that would have been interesting. This whole back and forth with NPCs all day routine got old, quick. He noticed one or two faces more often than others, which meant that those were the players most likely to move on from the lower levels quickly. If he stuck with that lot, he might even run into someone he knew.

Or, he could avoid people like he'd been doing and smoke a pipe. That sounded like the winner.

With a deft motion, Corvo plucked the pipe from his inventory and lit up the cheap tobacco that he'd bought from the general store. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as its counterpart in the real world, but the semi-euphoric effect it afforded did help him disassociate from his surroundings for a limited time. As he puffed away at it, his gaze moved across the field just outside the starting area. "Wonder if the others are doing alright?" he thought aloud. "Maybe they got lucky and didn't log in? Maybe they saw the news beforehand and realized it was a bad plan?"

He wanted to hold on to that hope. If they had managed to avoid this deathtrap, he would have felt a little less bad about hounding all of them to log in immediately. He was more adamant than most of his friends about Sword Art. Part of him knew they hadn't, though. He knew those guys wouldn't have missed this. Not for anything.

Corvo wondered if the inability to log out would have even been a deterrent for half of them.

"Probably not," he mused aloud as a stream of gray roiled off his tongue. "Still, I ought to start looking for a quest. No use sitting on my ass."

@Monso

That's what they said about the world of Sword Art Online.

State of the art. Top of the line. Cutting edge tech. Of course he'd been roped in. Games were the best way to pass the time, and a game like this where it all seemed real sounded much more interesting than the alternative. The raid culture got boring pretty quick in those other games, where he had sat for hours listening to people he'd never even met talk about different ways to kill pixelated characters who dropped intangible goods that would never benefit him in the real world. He did it for the friends he'd actually met, those few people who meant something to him in that world. He came to Aincrad thinking of nothing but having a way to feel like his best friends were right there next to him, instead of on the other side of a computer screen.

He never expected that they'd be stuck that way. Corvo never once thought that he'd have to fight for his life with the very men he'd said he'd lay his life on the line for. It was one thing to say it and another entirely to make good on it. It wasn't that he wouldn't- it just unnerved him that he had to.

Them's the breaks, Ev.

Corvo spun the blade deftly in hand as he walked through the field outside of the Town of Beginnings, testing its weight with a certain familiarity that the system assist had nothing to do with. "The weight's off," he muttered. Two quick slices through the air answered his unspoken questions. "It'll cut, I suppose," he muttered discontentedly.

The squealing of a boar piqued his interest, and the rogue turned his gaze toward the creature with a wry smirk. "I'll just have to test it out," he said.

Boar: 10/10 HP

Corvo: 20/20 HP // 2 E

Corvo, the Crow

Weapons:

One Handed Dagger

Items:

• (3) Starter Healing Potions (Heals 50 HP)
• 2,500 Col and (10) Tier 1 materials
• 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)

Skills:

One Handed Dagger Rank 1 (5 SP)