Killia

Lucky for him, the developers didn't see the necessity to include a bladder or bowel mechanic. Instead, he wordlessly nodded and I wordlessly stood up. I shot a narrowed glare at the two meat bags who kept company with a guy like this before I did exactly what I said I'd do -- walk away. I don't know what it was about today, but apparently I became the subject of people's interest. I get that we're all in the same boat here, but I'm perfectly content hanging out in the brig. By myself. In the corner cell.

"Hey, nice moves back there kid." Why does everyone like to call me kid? Am I really that young compared to everyone else? Really?

"Woah, slow down!" Again, the rules of personal space seemed not to apply today. I felt a firm grip on my shoulder which halted me in my tracks. To be clear, I didn't stop because he wanted me to. I stopped because that bubbling cauldron deep inside my chest was about to erupt. That usually meant someone's nose was about to break. So, I took a deep breath and a brief moment to turn the heat down on the front burner before turning to face the next of my acquaintances today.

"What?" I'm not fond of meaningful human interaction. Can you tell?

"Woah, easy." He was about my age, white hair, well built, and his eyes were honest. He held up both hands in surrender meaning that vein on my forehead was looking pretty beastly. "I'm not here to pick a fight."

"Then what do you want?"

"You handled yourself pretty good back there, but I couldn't help but notice you're not equipped with a weapon." The guy motioned to where the conflict happened. The three were long gone, but the memory of them was still fresh. "Those guys were armed with some decent beginner's gear. If they had any gall to challenge you to a one on one to the death... You'd be dead."

I sighed. "And?"

"What're you gonna do, huh? You want to fight?" He challenged, pressing his chest into mine.

"I'm going to walk away," I stated, pushing off him with a hand and turning away to leave. Little did he know, I never kept my guard down. Again, I've seen an angry bull once or twice and I knew I just fluttered the red flag its way.

"Where the hell do you think you're--!" He reached for my shoulder and found himself with his back against the cobblestones. Heavy or not, all I needed was a bit of momentum and over my shoulder he went. I took a kneel with his head just between my knees. The shadows of his two lackeys caught the edges of my vision, but nothing more.

"You're bad at picking your fights. You see, I'm ready to die here. I'm not afraid of that, but I'll be damned to do so by you or anyone else's hand for kicks and grins. I'm a loose cannon and the only reason I'm trapped in here with you is because my therapist thought it'd be a good stress reliever instead of hospitalizing jerks like you in school."

The shadows of the two lackeys backed off and the dazed look of confusion on my prey's face began to understand the gravity of my words. Bullies always had weak spines and I knew just how to get them to break.

"So, how about you find some other guy to piss off before I let off some stress in a safe zone. I've heard the knock back can be pretty brutal."

"It's all so ironic," I spoke aloud with a shake of my head. The soft roar and hiss of the plaza's fountain did its best to muffle my voice.

Activity settled in the Town of Beginnings over the past week. Already, hundreds threw their life away. In the raging storm of emotions, the aftermath finally settled and people began to build. Whether or not they liked it, this was their home now. Instead of going to school, grabbing food from the fridge, and kicking back, it was now a matter of eat, fight, sleep. Somewhere in the middle of this new lifestyle, people started leaning on one another. We all had something in common and the ice had broken. Guilds popped up left and right, shops started opening, and even the NPCs felt more like people than programs.

"Hey, you." The voice was gruff; I knew it well. "What's the matter, kid? Scared?"

"No." I kept it short because it didn't matter what I said. That much rang true at the sound of forced laughter from the three bullies in front of me.

"Pft, you're a shitty liar. Get up." His words were echoed by a shove into my shoulder. Were this my first rodeo, I'd be belly up in the fountain and washed with demeaning laughter.

Instead, I stood up. Calm. I kept my lips sealed and eyes locked on the big guy in the middle. Mr. Left and Mr. Right seemed content to play nuclear deterrent, but they did take a step back.

Aincrad. At first, the name of it sounded foreign. Soon after, it became the name of my cage. I always felt stuck in my own little world, isolated from everyone else. They never looked at me the right way. At first, sure but after they found out about... her... Anyway, long story short: people don't look at me here like they do at home. In fact, after the announcement of my jail cell, they all look like I did that day. I mean, some of them were disturbingly calm, but those will either be the ones to get behind or run from. Somewhere in that lot is where I fall.

A week had passed from the initial chaos. While players were panicking, breaking down, or dashing for the first chance to clear this place, I remember taking a seat. I remember sitting crossed legged, laughing a bit to myself. I remember telling myself, "I deserve this." Suicide was a thought on my mind ever since I lost Lyssa, but it was wrong. That much I knew. So, I agreed to go to a therapist. Coping mechanisms, she called it -- outlets for my anger and sadness. To help "cope" with what happened, she advised me to try video games. This video game.

It's ironic really, and that's what I found so funny while people were losing their minds. I felt I deserved to die -- to be punished for letting Lyssa die. Now, here I stand, trapped in a cage where I will either serve my time, die, or take on the biggest challenge for survival. I'm sure that somewhere, Leon is smirking deep inside. Why? Because he loved to play these little survival games. He loved to push us, even putting our life on the line. I hated him for what he did, but now I can't help but laugh.

Noted and changed. 

Profile
Username: Killia
Real name: James Fennik
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Height: 6'1"

About: History/personality

James lived a tough childhood. His parents were from lower-middle class, working blue collar jobs to support themselves. Killia and his sister, Lyssa were born as twins. They were not planned. Despite this, his parents took on the responsibility to the full capacity of their abilities. Growing up, he spent more time with his uncle, Leon, than his mother and father. Leon served in the Navy for three tours before being honorably discharged after an IED ripped through his convoy and severely wounded him. Despite his injuries and haunting memories of his deployment, Leon provided a stern and moral platform for which the kids would grow up. Quickly, James was instilled with the knowledge that he is to protect his sister at all costs. As a man, it was his duty. Or so Leon continued to reinforce.

As time passed, and James began school, Leon would teach them on the side. He helped James and Lyssa with additional challenges in the form of games. Many of said games were backed with a core lesson related to survival, critical thinking, or challenges of the moral fiber. For children, these raw lessons were incredibly inappropriate, but as a game, they were easy to digest. In fact, the two rarely felt they learned the lesson at hand. Instead, they learned that winning felt right. It felt good. From these games and lessons blossomed the depth of James and Lyssa's bond to one another. With their parents busy providing for the family and Leon unable to watch them during the recoil of his service, James protected Lyssa. Lyssa, in turn, provided and cared for James. She learned at a young age how to cook, helped him with household chores, and loved to sing when Leon's emotions flared toward the soldier in him.

By the time the two were ready for Junior High, an incident during one of their games prevented Leon from seeing the two again. On a camping trip, Leon tried to test their ability to survive with limited food and water by pretending a bear had ransacked their campsite and injured their uncle. The game went too far, and despite his efforts to learn hunting and gathering, James wasn't equipped to provide the essentials. Lyssa passed out from dehydration and fatigue. She remained like this for hours before Leon stepped in. James had thought Lyssa died.

After her recovery in the hospital, Leon was banned from seeing them. Instead, the siblings were entrusted to watch each other as their parents worked the days away. James and Lyssa began to feel a void without Leon's presence. So many years of games and tests had sharpened them beyond their years and they craved the challenge. This would lead to a dark day for the siblings, James especially.

While their parents were away from home during a hot summer day, James and Lyssa decided to go to the lake for a swim. James had recently acquired his driver's permit and the two shared their dad's old pick up truck. They were told only to use the car in emergencies or to pick up food. Despite their parent's warnings, they left for the lake. It began like any summer retreat for two siblings: swimming, laughing, and even a picnic. However, the ingrained challenge from Leon's influenced edged them on to a game of stamina.

Who could dive the deepest in the lake?

James went first. He swam and swam until the light above struggled to penetrate the murky water's depth. His lungs burned and he turned for the surface. He told his sister that he went as deep as the light would go. So, it became Lyssa's turn. He watched her dive. One thing James knew about Lyssa was she held a strength of will that put his physical prowess to shame. Where James could overcome something with muscle, Lyssa could overcome it with the mind. He watched her try to break his record. Her silhouette vanished and only bubbles marked his sister's depth. Until, the bubbles stopped. A deep dread washed over James, but he wanted to believe in his sister. He waited for her to pop up to the water's surface with a new record. She did not.

James broke into a frenzied swim, deeper than the light would go. Weeds and plants from the lakes depth teased at his arms and legs. His lungs burned, but he thrashed in the darkness, hoping to feel his sister's touch. In his frenzy, the weeds tangled him, forcing to claim him as well. Unlike Lyssa, James' strength allowed him to break free. He swam for the surface, lungs giving out. His mouth gasped for air and instead found water. In panic and fear, James burst from the lake's surface, coughing, vomiting, and gasping. He caught his breath enough to dive again, and again, and again...

The police pulled Lyssa from the lake hours later. There was nothing they could do.

Lyssa Fennik Funeral Gown

The next two years, James wore the badge of "Sister Killer" at school when the news published the story in their small Montana town. The family plummeted into depression. His father grew to resent him. His mother, much like Lyssa, spent her weeks of grievance leave reinforcing to her son, it was an accident. 

Was it? James struggled with that answer.

As time passed, James saw several other Junior High Schools. His record became peppered with violence as the youth of today mocked and teased him. The story of his sister followed him like a ghost and no thanks to social media, any new place lasted for as long as it took a bully to use google. As James graduated Junior High by the skin of his knuckles, his parents decided it best to have him privately schooled at home. Further isolated, James grew inward. The violence stopped, but the guilt grew and festered. His studies suffered and despite their efforts, James' parents stopped his schooling entirely. Instead, enrolling him in therapy in an effort to cope with his loss. It was here that his therapist turned him to video games as an outlet for his aggression and an escapism from harsh reality.

One such video game that was suggested was the false reality inside a Nerve Gear, where a player could be anyone they wanted...

Link Start...

Virtues:

Courageous: Killia is bold. His uncle instilled in him a sense of fearlessness as they overcame challenges as children that others their age never had exposure to. He sees the world as an obstacle. As Leon often told him, anything can be accomplished with effort, willpower, and skill. Improvise, adapt, and overcome. Hoorah!

Righteous: Killia believes in the greater good. This also means he has a firm grasp of right an wrong. At his young age, he also knows the depth of gray that hangs between the two. Killia will always try to do the right thing despite the challenges ahead. However, he knows that a road paved with good intentions leads to fire and brimstone.

Cunning: Killia is far more shrewd than his documented education states. A high school drop out, his mind can compete with his college counterparts. Critical thinking and problem solving are not just skills, but a core part of who Killia is. Brashness be damned, he will maintain a sharp mind despite his emotional outbursts.

Flaws:

Guilty: Killia never forgave himself for his sister's death. He blames his lack of strength as well as his overzealous pursuit of being better. This guilt weighs him down and inhibits his full potential. As a result, it also affects his ability to relate to others. Things like swimming, softly sung songs, and a caring feminine hand are a constant reminder. A reminder that he is a murderer, despite others calling it an accident. For his sister's sake, he needs to attone.

Angry: Killia harbors anger from his sadness and his loss. Sadness and tears were a sign of weakness, or so Leon taught him. Instead, he is quick to light the fires of anger. His fists speak for him when his tongue cannot find the words. This holds especially true at the mention of his sister, his test of mettle, or those who call him a killer.

Isolated: Killia has been hurt by people more times than he cares to recall. His uncle lied to them and because of it, he had to watch his sister suffer at the hands of the elements. When his sister passed, his father grew cold and the others in school hounded him as a sister killer. Friends he made at each new place distanced themselves from him after learning the story. Those who tried to help him were met with his rage. He saw their sympathy as pity and told them to leave. Isolation is his companion and to gain his trust is no easy task. Death hinges as a constant thought, but one he is not yet ready to face.

Profession:

Tailor Rank 1
EXP 15/20

Skills

10/16 SP
Non-combat:
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Passive:
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Combat:

► Charge:
1/5 Ranks (5 SP)
Post Action
Effect: Attack action. +X DMG.

Description: Charge towards an opponent that is not currently in melee range. Deal bonus DMG of +1 per rank of charge on this attack and suffer -1 to ACC. You may only use charge once per opponent and only if it is possible via roleplay. You cannot disengage from a melee to perform a charge. This is considered an attack maneuver and is subject to success or failure based on the BD's results. Charge negates any similar modifying skill like surprise attacks.

The extra attack is added on before the sword art onto the base.

Weapon skills:
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Inventory
Weapons:

Name: Martial Discipline
Item Type: Hand Wraps
Enhancements: (+1 DMG), (+1 DMG), (+1 DMG) = +3 Damage

Name: Refusal
Item Type: Lucky Charm
Enhancements: (+1ACC), (+1ACC), (+1ACC) = +3 Accuracy

Roleplays

Relationships (optional)



Story Thus Far (optional)

Transaction Log: