Bahr

Bahr remained shrouded as Morningstar made his presence known, acquiring the man's attention exactly as they'd planned. No sooner had the morsel embedded within the snow at the warrior's feet than Morningstar was upon him, advancing with inhuman dexterity. A loud clang shattered the silence that had enveloped the area, with an intense flash to accompany it as the point of impact between the two pieces of equipment ignited. Impressed was Bahr with Morningstar's strength and agility, but equally impressed was he with the fortitude of the man they'd come to vanquish. It was no wonder Darian had fallen. But even as Bahr had the thought, he felt his body moving of its own accord, muscle memory and instinct manipulating his limbs at their whimsy.

Out of the corners of their eyes, they may have caught a glimpse of it. That ribbon of crimson carving an elegant loop through the air, swelling in size and momentum as it neared the two where they stood. All at once, a meteoric force would come crashing down against the man's cheek on his exposed side, the helmet that cupped it splintering into countless crystalline fractals before evaporating into nothingness. Black flames leapt forth from the red and seemingly grasped the mob in its clutches, ensnaring him in an unnatural way. Bahr's figure would flicker back into view shortly thereafter, revealing that his blade had been the culprit, still hot with the scarlet energy that was now gradually dissipating. A comically small boar rode the tip, its tusk protruding ever so slightly beyond the blade's edge. How it had held on through such a harrowing blow was anyone's guess.

The warrior staggered briefly, but stood his ground well. Bahr took the sliver of actionable space he had to plant his boot firmly against the man's chest plate and push as hard as he could. The warrior would stumble backward with a grunt, seemingly still reeling from Forgotten King's Spite, eyes filled with fire staring back up at the two swordsmen through a lattice of unkempt hair freed from the prison of his helmet. It was around now that the true weight of Bahr's attack would begin to take hold. The blood that poured from his wound did so in a sickeningly viscous way, congealing the moment it seeped from his skin into a ebony, gelatinous mass. The burn that now covered half his visage bubbled and popped, the heat still not having dispersed.

"Where is your king, soldier?" Bahr demanded, tone confident and authoritative. Despite the resolve in Bahr's presence, the question would only illicit gruff laughter from their adversary.

"Yours is not the sort to mingle in his presence," the man retorted, falling into a coughing fit shortly thereafter. "You attack from the shadows. You don't even show your face," he continued. "A coward such as yourself is not worthy of an audience in his court."

It was official. Bahr was lost.

Why had he come to the sixth floor, anyway? He didn't have anything to do there that warranted a visit. Yet, his curiosity had led him into the depths of the jungle, whimsy guiding his fate as he strayed ever further from civilization. And now, nature encircled him on all sides for miles, and he hadn't a clue which way led back to home. 

Just as the true hopelessness of the situation was settling into him, Bahr heard a sound. It was faint at first, but slowly grew in volume. It was someone singing, a sickly sweet tune that matched tones he'd never heard before. He found himself beckoned closer to the siren's song, which inevitably revealed a small cottage nestled within a small grove. Eager to find direction back, he opened the creaky door and crossed through the threshold.

Inside, he was met with warmth. Clearly, it was some sort of shop, and shortly after he'd entered he was greeted by the apparent shopkeep. "Hey. Yeah, definitely lost," he admitted, nervously scratching at the back of his skull. "I'd appreciate some directions back. I'll buy something for your trouble. Let's see..."

A short inspection of the potential wares quickly revealed that there were many products of worth for him to glean from this chance meeting. "I'll take these," he said as he submitted the order form. "Oh, and something else to sweeten the pot." Ten Crafter's Respite Potions were promptly issued as a gift to Xena's inventory.
 

Skill(s) Being Dropped: None
Mod(s)/Addon(s)/Shift(s) Being Dropped: Hiding Mod: Untraceable
SP Incurred Towards Limit: 4
SP Refunded: 4
Cost: 4,000 col. (Sent to Banker.)

Bahr had only accidentally found it, the quaint little brewery that rested somewhere between the Town of Beginning's center square and his own shop. He'd resolved to take a different route each time he traveled from the teleport gate to his own residence, to better learn the streets and which way they led. He'd been pleasantly surprised by more than a few shops so far, and this place was no different.

There was a familiarity to the scents that hung in the air, though he couldn't exactly put a finger on them. Wisdom, it smelled like. And magic.

"I'll take these," he announced, after reviewing the menu. "And, uh, any book recommendations you may have."

Bahr followed Morningstar's lead and accepted the quest invitation, which immediately dismissed the panel and activated the subsequent track for the NPC, which immediately began leading the pair out of Snowfrost and into the wilds. The trek there was a bit more lengthy than Bahr had anticipated, and the snow and trees that surrounded the group seemed to suppress all of the noises he had grown accustomed to on the first floor. There were no long blades of grass rustling in the wind, nor woodland creatures chittering and chattering about. The silence enveloped them like a thick miasma, blotting out any noise save for the ragged breath of the men as they trudged forward, and the squelching of half-melted snow beneath their boots with each step.

Morningstar and Levi chatted idly about something or other, but Bahr hardly paid attention. His eyes scanned the tree line, instinctively searching for any sign of movement. As they weren't going out of their way to stay quiet, any stealthier dangers would have the upper hand. But, try as he might, there were no creatures or people to behold. The tundra truly was as desolate as it seemed.

This is, until they stumbled upon the corpse. Levi let loose a gasp as he laid eyes on it, prompting Bahr to place a hand firmly over the youth's mouth and pull him into cover behind a boulder. Bahr tugged at Morningstar's sleeve as well, becoming the blond swordsman to join them behind the bulk of cobble. Once everyone was secure, Bahr peeked around the boulder, keeping his profile slim so as to avoid detection. It appeared the culprit was eating something near a fire he'd concocted, though Bahr didn't really see the point. With frostbite like that, chances were slim that he'd make it through the night. The upside was, that made him an easy target.

He turned back to the pair. "Darian's been murdered," Bahr summarized flatly, keeping his tone low and quiet. "I'm guessing the man at the fire is the guy you were talking to Hermy about?"

Levi nodded in the affirmative, his shaky breath evident in the uneven plumes of steam escaping his lips.

"We can make this clean and efficient. He doesn't look powerful. Morningstar will get his attention while I flank. Levi, stay behind cover, and use your slingshot only if you see an opportunity to take a shot that won't reveal your location."

"Y-you're not actually suggesting we fight that man, are you? He took down Darian, for God's sake!" The poor kid was shaken to his core, but still managed to keep his voice down. Bahr reached out and gripped his shoulder reassuringly. 

"We'll keep you safe."

Bahr pulled his hood over his head, shading his visage as the mask he'd been wearing the whole time finally revealed itself. It unfurled one tangerine triangular pixel at a time, until not a trace of Bahr's face remained. "I'll wait for you to engage, Morningstar," he stated, voice almost digitized through the mask. And then, panels of his frame began to flake away in the same triangular pattern as before, until he was completely imperceptible against the backdrop. If the pair studied carefully, they'd be able to track his boot prints as they trailed a line away from the boulder and around the other side of the encampment. Aside from that, he was air.

Exploring the fourth floor wasn't without its perks. Despite the stubborn frost that permeated the floor and soaked into its every surface, there were quite a few people that enjoyed calling it home - NPCs and Players alike. And while Bahr couldn't say he was necessarily a fan of the fourth floor for its climate, he couldn't deny that the litany of shops it housed were among some of his favorite in Aincrad.

"Everything looks delicious," he surmised as his scarlet eyes scanned the available morsels, practically drooling over them. There were so many foods here that he hadn't tried yet. And, as such, his eyes were far larger than his stomach.

"I'll take all of these," he announced, gesturing at... practically all of it. "Oh, and... these. If you can swing it." He jotted the order down on one of the order forms handy inside the cafe.
 

"Intriguing," Bahr mused as he happened upon the camp, eyeing the various snacks and meals that were strewn about. It was fortunate that he'd found the traveling cook, as the sun was now high in the sky, and he'd yet to eat that day. He was yet unsure as to the nature of hunger in this world, and whether or not he could actually fall ill from not consuming enough of it. Either way, he wasn't keen on finding out.

"Enough for the road, then." And so he grabbed as many things as his arms could carry, leaving adequate col to cover the costs.
 

Morningstar's mastery of the snowball toss, despite claiming he'd never attempted it before, was equally impressive as it was vexing. As someone who had only seemed to stumble to and fro in a haphazard daze since awakening, Bahr wondered if every 'normal' person was as naturally good at everything as Morningstar seemed to be. Perhaps even Bahr himself was, at one point. Or, it was possible that Morningstar actually was an exceptional shot. Either way, Bahr felt weary in having to follow such a splendid performance.

The NPC beckoned him and, not wanting to appear shy or cowardly, the swordsman took a step forward. The snowball settled into his hand much like a sea urchin, unfamiliar and setting his skin ablaze with its frosty pricks. He at first attempted to emulate what he'd seen Morningstar do, packing and condensing the ivory orb into something that fit his palm a bit more comfortably. Once satisfied, he sized up his target.

The nuance of the game was not lost on him. Larger holes that were lower would naturally be easier to sink the ball through. Higher ones that were more narrow presented more of a challenge. Though Morningstar had made it look effortless, Bahr's apprehension when taking a gander at the smallest target seemed to freeze him, much like the sphere in he held was starting to freeze him. But the sensation was approaching unbearable, and Bahr knew the longer he waited, the more likely he was to miss his shot when he finally loosed the ball from his grip.

So he took the shot.

It wasn't a spectacular performance, but he had surprised himself by sinking the snowball through the second highest rung - though he had aimed for the highest. Even still, there was an immediate pang of excited, and gratification, that came with the satisfaction of having succeeded. Even if to a lesser extent than his companion. 

With lesser feats came lesser prizes, and rather than a gigantic plush, Bahr was awarded with a simple coffee mug from the NPC (who was still kind in its deliverance, though decidedly less enthused than he had been with Morningstar). It seemed to thaw his fingers at the touch, in stark contrast to the uncomfortable cold he'd felt only moments earlier, as though the vessel was still warmed by the coffee that resided in it last. His scarlet eyes examined the prize as his thumb absently traced over the lettering. White Rabbit Tavern, it read, over a backdrop illustrating an inviting hearth nestled within a cozy parlor. Bahr could swear the visage, and title, bore some modicum of resemblance to him. Whatever it was, it was just beyond his grasp.

Bahr's scrutinization of the mug was cut short as Morningstar nudged him, jarring him from whatever train of thought he'd been riding. He'd been brought back to his senses just in time to hear the tail-end of a conversation a couple of NPCs were having.

"Well what happened to him?" 

"Ran away after he snuck around the festival a bit. I think he was heading towards Darian's campsite by the lake." 

"Well if he's gonna run into Darian we've got nothing to worry about. That guy's as strong as they come."

"Intriguing," Bahr muttered as he shot Morningstar a glance. He was still unfamiliar with the ways of this world, but he still knew a cry for help when he heard it. These men may have put up fronts to hide the fear in their hearts, Bahr's perception cut cleanly through the facade like a honed blade through a burlap sack. They weren't trying to hide their conversation. Hell, they wanted someone to hear it. 

Bahr stepped forward, toward the men.

"Hello. My name is Bahr. This is Morningstar," Bahr said, gesturing toward the blond who stood beside and a few paces behind him. "We couldn't help but overhear. Do you believe this man to be a threat?"

"Warm greetings. I'm Levi," the younger, snowy-haired youth of the duo sounded. He then cocked his head toward the gruffer of the two men. "This is Hermy. And yes, almost certainly. Those heavily-armed sorts don't usually come around these parts, and when they do it's always trouble."

"I see."

Bahr turned back to Morningstar, brow furrowed with a twisted expression half worry, half inquisition. "It might be worth checking out," he asserted. "There's a chance this Darian fellow could be in trouble."

"Bah! As if," the more oafish of the two chided, his cheeks rosy with the influence of ale. "You've got nothing to worry about. Darian's among the strongest of us."

"No, that's what I was trying to explain to you," Levi interjected. "This man was inordinate. I don't know if Darian's shield would hold against him."

"Fret all you like," Hermy retorted bluntly, taking a hearty swig from his flask. "I'm going to return to the festivities."

The group watched as Hermy stumbled along, somehow meandering straight into a table that was in plain view before diverting and inevitably becoming lost in the crowd. Once he'd gone, Levi turned his attention back to the Players. "I would appreciate it if you could find the time to help. Darian is mighty, but there is only so much one man can do alone. I haven't the strength to fight by myself, but the two of you look strong. I can lead the way for you, if that makes it easier."

No sooner had he finished forwarding the request than panels populated before both Bahr and Morningstar. It was asking if they wanted to accept a "quest." Bahr gave Morningstar another glance. "Well?"

A ping heralded the arrival of Morningstar's reply. It appeared he'd answered in the affirmative. Not knowing how long it would take, Bahr took a seat against one of the cold benches that sat close to the teleport gate. He took the time to fully observe and appreciate his surroundings. Flakes of frozen moisture cascaded from the heavens, simply water loosed from its cloud prison and born anew. It collected in heaps on the ground, layer upon layer, a lattice of beauty and freeze. When one of these snowflakes landed on him, it quickly dissipated into nothingness. He wondered why that was.

It didn't take Morningstar long to arrive. Or, at least if it did, Bahr had been sufficiently distracted that he hadn't noticed. "What's all this?" the blond youth inquired, making his presence known.

"Not sure," Bahr replied with a shrug, eyes unmoving from the festival building itself before their eyes. "I had actually been hoping your insight would answer that question for me." There was a humorless indifference in his tone. Not necessarily frustrated or upset, but not exactly enthused, either. With an unflattering grunt, he stood and faced his companion. "Let's go see what they're up to."

Through their meandering and questioning of the villagers, the duo came to understand that there was some sort of festival that was starting. Something about how, every absurd-length-of-time, the perpetually frozen fourth floor would start to heat up just enough for a little snow to melt. The denizens of the space saw it fit to celebrate their brief reprieve from the elements, however minor, and throw a big ol' party. 

Bahr didn't really understand at first, but found it easy to slip right into the holiday spirit with the rest of them. "Looks like they're setting up games. Have you tried any of them, Morningstar?"

Not long after Bahr's mind had loosed itself within that wretched cave on the first floor had it wandered beyond. He'd first learned that there existed dimension outside the dimness of that hell. Then he'd learned space existed even beyond where the sky stitched itself to the far edges of those rolling hills. There was much to be had in that space. Caves, forests, towns. But he kept hearing talk of "floors." Floor ten, floor twenty. They spoke of them as though they were different worlds. And soon, Bahr would discover that was not far from the truth.

He'd observed the passersby as they operated the teleport gate in the main plaza, shouting commands into the very air that seemed to take shape around them and whisk them away. "Snowfrost," he'd heard one say. It was worth a shot. So he, with legs shaky as a fish-turned-man, approached the platform. He steeled his voice, croaked the command, and turned to smoke.

Where he arrived, it was cold. He didn't know the word cold, yet, but he recognized the sensation. Scarlet hues darted around as he attempted to familiarize himself with his new environment, which was a stark difference from the one from whence he came. Almost none of it bore recognition for him. Yet, there was a melancholy familiarity to all of it. I've been here. he caught himself thinking. He couldn't remember it, exactly, but he knew it was true. There was something special about this place. He just didn't know what.

As his nerves settled, and the cold soaked his skin, he noticed that the townsfolk were acting a peculiar way. They seemed to be preparing for something, lighting lanterns and setting up stalls. He didn't know what any of it meant. But, he knew someone who might have an idea. He opened his messaging panel.
 

Quote

To: @Morningstar

Hey. I'm in a place called Snowfrost. Something's going on. Want to come check it out?

- Bahr

It was simple, and direct enough. He sent it, dismissing the panels afterward. He'd wait a moment before proceeding, in case the shaggy-haired youth came. If he were busy, Bahr would have to investigate alone.

STATS:

I simp for Arabelle because it is the right thing to do.

Bahr's ruminations were bedeviled by the hearkening of screeching bells, their panicked toll a far cry from the whimsical jingle he'd observed upon first entering the shop. The door would have surely loosed from the cradle of its threshold had it not met, ferociously, with the wall adjacent its flung trajectory. The impact prompted the appearance of a panel which heralded the smashed wood's immortal status, but Bahr wouldn't notice. His eyes would be glued to the vision that stood before him, in all her fury, where his door once had been.

His crimson eyes would first settle upon her hair. Even in that dim light, her blonde locks seemed so luminescent he could swear they were lit from within. Whatever loose strands of molten gold that weren't held back by her ponytail spooled into perfect curls upon her shoulders. They cascaded past her ears, hugging the smooth contours of her face, upon which sat two identical jewels of vibrant azure. Etched in venom, they were, with an intensity that rivaled the glow of her mane.

As he scanned her, he'd take in her features one by one. Her slender frame. The peculiar armor she wore, which seemed to reveal enough to make men wish they could see more. The weapon she kept stashed at her hip, which could surely loose itself and lance through any foe faster than they could make a wry comment about said armor. The comfortability, and air of confidence, within which the entire ensemble was wrapped. A beauty. A threat. A force.

Since he had awakened, Bahr had felt the kiss of the sun. He had felt the heat of coffee as it burned down his throat and traced a line of acid through his stomach. He had experienced the radiance of a lit hearth, and the comforting embrace of a thick blanket. But he could say, with confidence, that it hadn't been until he had seen her that he'd truly been warm.

Whether that was from the heat that filled his cheeks, or the rage that emanated from her, he could not say. But just as it seemed she readied herself to unleash the inferno that had built in her chest, something else caught her eye. The creature from before had come to Bahr's rescue, it seemed, scampering across the hardwood floor in a frenetic gallop toward the intruder. The anger that had once masked her visage seemed replaced by another emotion, though Bahr couldn't say he recognized it. She marveled at the boar as it encircled her feet, picking it up and nuzzling it. Whispering sweet nothings, planting a kiss upon its snout. 

But this reprieve was short-lived. It wasn't long before those spheres of blue sliced through the dimness back at him. He must have looked so dumb, then. Mouth half agape, likely some incomprehensible squeaking from the back of his throat leaking between his lips. Wide, scarlet orbs dashed with confusion, and inquisition, and excitement, and anxiety. The light from overhead seemed to glow on his brow, as if it wished to illuminate his idiocy. A man who had no idea what to do with a woman who broke down his door and planted herself in its stead as though she'd grown there fifty years.

"What happened to you?" he heard her ask, the sweetness she'd offered his pet decidedly absent. However he might attempt to balk at her tone, there was still a sick sweetness to it that still made him weak. He felt small beneath her indomitable will.

"That's..." he croaked, unsure what sort of answer she would find satisfactory. His gaze averted hers. "... a complicated question."

Instinctively, his eyes flickered back, this time searching for anything he could use to help solve this puzzle. Above her head oscillated a verdant crystal, which he had learned indicated someone good; or, at the very least, not evil. Even that, supposedly, could be a trick. Beneath it there was whatever information the game was willing to offer up. Her level, which immediately struck him as high, despite not having ample context to compare again. And the name. "Lessa," it read.

He thought back to days prior, when he had, at the direction of Morningstar, investigated his friends list. There had been one among the list that had particularly stood out to him, and now a woman stood before him sharing the namesake. Lessa. There was a familiarity to it that was impossible to shake. This was someone important. And, based on everything he'd come to know about her in those brief moments they shared his parlor, it was likely for all the wrong reasons.

"Please, come inside," he beckoned, inviting her with a wave. He would recede silently into the back office, taking a seat at his desk and turning the chair so that it faced the lush couch that lined an adjacent wall. He would wait for her to enter, and sit, or stand, or whatever she felt like, hoping that by the time she'd come he would have bought enough time to think of what to say next. He hadn't, of course. He didn't know who this person was, or what their relationship was, or why she seemed to loathe him so. And while the Town of Beginnings was a "safe zone," he ventured a guess that one of her tricks was to inflict damage upon a man in other ways.

"I know I presume," he started, eyes finding hers. He held the contact, this time. "But what are you, to me? What are we, to each other?"

There was silence for a moment. Perhaps elaboration was in order.

"There must be some way we know each other, but I'm at a loss as to how. I remember nothing more than the past handful of days."

Name: In Noctem
Your Profession: Tailor
Your Rank: 10
ID: 206718
Roll: CD11
Item Type: Light Armor
Tier: 3
Quality: Perfect
Enhancements: MIT | MIT | EVA
Description: Resembling a starless night sky, this armor was dubbed "In Noctem." A combination of leather and metalwork gives the armor a tough, protective outer leather. The chest piece is sleeveless but a metal guard protects the left arm of the user. Black boots, gloves, and a belt bring the armor together.
Post Link: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/17882-f1-r10-tailor-the-crusty-bahrnacle/?do=findComment&comment=651274

Bahr had heard the man call out from the parlor while he toiled away in his back office, something about being a villain. He smirked at the young man's jab, trying to think of something clever in response. But as Bahr wasn't known for being particularly snappy with his comebacks, and because he took his sweet time removing his ass from its plush seat, by the time he ventured out into the shop to speak with Morningstar the lad was gone. It did, however, appear that he had left behind some sort of commission paperwork for Bahr to take a look at. And, so, the crimson-clad tailor scooped up the sheet of paper and inspected its contents. 

The design for the armor was solid, albeit complicated. Nothing the old Bahr would have had trouble with, certainly. But this new Bahr wasn't sure he was up to the task. Still, a companion was asking for his help, and it felt slimy to deny him that. 

It took a few tries, the first couple attempts resulting in grotesque amalgamations of mismatched leathers and cheap tin. But, on this third try, all of the pieces lined up beautifully. He could hardly consider himself the sort of artisan that held a candle to the original Bahr's work, but this had to come pretty close, he figured. 

When the item was complete, he sent a message to @Morningstar to let him know his commission was ready for pickup. 

Bahr stood, likewise making an attempt to avoid eye contact with the cafe's patrons, all of which were now silently gawking at the pair. His hands snaked their way around the shaft of the instrument of destruction, a grunt of exertion escaping the swordsman's lips as he attempted to lift whatever foul artifact had brought so much destruction and disruption to the establishment. And certainly, he could lift it. But just because he could, didn't mean he wagered that he should.

"This isn't the sort of thing I would have used," he surmised, crimson irises combing the exterior of the weapon for clues. "It's bulky, and unbalanced. Unwieldy. I don't know much yet, but I know that either this isn't mine, or something happened to it." 

His eyes returned to Morningstar, and then flickered to the agitated patrons that still all had their eyes glued to the pair. From what he could tell, they were all impatiently waiting for them to leave. Which made sense. They probably weren't welcome in a place they'd brought such undue destruction to. "Let's head outside," Bahr suggested, his eyes still ping-ponging between the various customers. "Don't think we'll get much privacy here anymore."

He summoned his menu again, this time a bit more easily than before, and tapped on a number he had seen before that was supposed to represent 'col,' which he only assumed was the currency of this world. He selected an amount of twenty-five thousand, and sent it directly to the NPC that had been assisting them previously. "My apologies," he stated, nodding toward the girl. "Hopefully this will cover everything."

As they made their way outside, Bahr fiddled with the menu again until he managed to find whatever dispelled the hammer and brought his sword back. The near weightless weapon slid into its sheath on his back, locking into place with such elegance that he'd forget it was even there after only a moment or two. When they'd distanced themselves from the cafe, he turned again toward Morningstar, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips.

"I'd like to thank you for all of your help, Morningstar," he said flatly, which may have served to dissuade the man from taking his words of appreciation at face value. "It seems I have a lot to learn about this world. If possible, I'd like to rendezvous with you again at a later date to discuss some of these things in more granular detail." He paused for a moment, then summoned his menu again, fiddling with it as he continued to speak. "If it's alright with you, I'll add you to my friends list now. That way it will be easier to get in contact in the future. For now, though, I think it would be best if I spent some time on my own and familiarized myself with the customs of this world a bit better." As he concluded, a request was shot Morningstar's way. It was up to him whether or not he'd be willing to accept it, after everything Bahr had put him through.

Prompted by Morningstar's suggestion, Bahr again attempted to summon the menu, fumbling just as clumsily with this attempt as he had the last. But when he finally managed to bring it up again, his eyes scanned nervously for the options that had been suggested to him. He started with skills, thumbing through all of the options and taking note of what was already unlocked.

"If I were to wager a guess," Bahr began, eyes still glued to the screen, "I'm some sort of rogue. Or not. I don't know. There's a lot of stuff in here about stealth, but I'm not really following how any of that works. Based on my muscle memory from before, I don't think I was the sort of person to shy away from direct physical confrontation."

Not having found the skills to be particularly illuminating, he moved onto the inventory. First, what was equipped. 

"I have a lot of 'Demonic' equipment. Is that supposed to be good? Or was I... evil?" His eyes settled on the currently equipped sword. "Looks like the sword I stuck in your face earlier is called 'Forgotten King's Spite.' Sounds pretty cool." He moved onto the rest of his inventory, scanning for anything that could be of use. There were a lot of odds and ends, that didn't seem to be organized in any sort of discernible fashion. Potions, crystals, keys, armors, weapons. But nothing like a journal, or notes, or anything of the sort. His eyes did settle on a particular weapon that gave him pause, however.

"... I recognize the name of this one."

He tapped on it, which populated another panel that contained additional information. 
 

Quote

Item Name: Dawn's Demise
Item Tier: T4
Item Type: Warhammer
Item Enhancements: Holy | Holy | Fallen | Phase
Description: "Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves."

He couldn't put his finger on exactly why, but this thing was definitely ringing a bell of some sort. And, for some reason, he could tell that it was wrong. A warhammer? He didn't seem the sort to use such a weapon. Or, at least, it didn't appeal to the current version of him at all. If he had a history with this weapon, why was it in a shape he disagreed with?

"I don't know why, exactly, but I know this item. Something's wrong with it."

Before he could elaborate, his finger touched something which caused the screens to dissipate. A moment later, the gargantuan warhammer materialized in the air between the two men, cascading into the table and shattering it instantly. It appeared that he'd summoned the weapon, and consequently destroyed a portion of the cafe in the process.

"... Not what I expected to happen."

"I guess you could message somebody, although I'm not sure what good that would do. I doubt they'd be able to fix anything."

He could message them? That was handy. Though, Morningstar was likely right. How many of these people knew what he was going through, let alone how to fix it? And even if one of them did know what to do, how was he supposed to know where to start?

His eyes returned to the list, pale blue highlighting the scarlet of his irises as they slowly panned downward. They came to a rest on a name that felt familiar, that being Lessa. He couldn't quite put a finger on why, but that name in particular resonated with him. There was a certain warmth he felt in his cheeks just seeing it on a screen. That being said, he couldn't tell who this person was truly supposed to be to him. There was no way of knowing for sure.

By the time he'd opted to dismiss the screens and deal with that quandary later, Morningstar had already retrieved a journal and a pen from... somewhere. "Truthfully," he told Bahr, "I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm kind of winging it."

Gee, that's reassuring. He hoped his face did a better job of hiding his irritation than his monologue did. Though, even in this frustrated state, he recognized that it was unfair to charge this man with the responsibility of 'fixing' him. He was just some random passerby, who didn't ask for any of this. Likely, he didn't want any of it, either.

"Are you... taking notes? On me?"

Item Name: Dawn's Demise
Item Tier: T4
Item Type: Warhammer
Item Enhancements: Holy/Holy/Fallen/Phase
Description: "Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves."

This item is being converted from a Warhammer to a Straight Sword with the use of a <<Gleaming Stone>>, which was acquired here.

End result should be as follows:

Item Name: Dawn's Demise
Item Tier: T4
Item Type: Straight Sword
Item Enhancements: Holy/Holy/Fallen/Phase
Description: "Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves."

Bewilderment masked Bahr's visage as Morningstar's was illuminated by the translucent azure panel. It seemed that he had summoned some sort of menu, which only solidified his argument that they were in a game of some sort. How was it he had done that again? Some sort of swishing motion. Bahr warily attempted to replicate the technique, but didn't seem to have any luck. Maybe if he tried his other hand?

Jingle!

Ah. There it was. Now, he'd mentioned something about a friends list... which seemed to be one of the very first options. He tapped on it, and another panel populated.
 

Alec
Arabelle
Cordelia
Dagger
Kityuisa
Lessa
Macradon
Morgenstern
NIGHT
Oliver
Olivia
Oscar
Solei
Yukiro

It was an admittedly a short list. Perhaps Bahr was the hermit sort before all of this.

"Alright, there. Now what?" he inquired, eyes flickering back up to the man who sat across from him. The NPC returned with their coffees, left them at either side of the table, and bowed before departing again. Bahr scooped up the mug and sipped at it thoughtfully, waiting for the man to respond.

The sign read "The Crusty Bahrnacle." It had his name. That couldn't have been a coincidence, right?

Peering through the dusty and muck-coated windows revealed nothing, the interior remaining a mystery to the man perched outside. If it was true that he, or at least a version of him, existed before he woke up in that cave, then it could be true that he'd staked his claim on certain parts of this world. Land. Monuments. Storefronts. There was no way to tell unless he found a way inside, and saw for himself what was hidden behind these grimy and unkempt walls.

He patted himself down and started checking his pockets for keys, stopping when he felt a bulge against his chest. It seemed that his coat had an inside pocket that he'd been previously unaware of. He unzipped his jacket slightly, just enough to stuff his hand inside and fumble around in an attempt to discern what had disturbed the uniformity of his garb. Whatever was there was... soft. And furry. And warm. And moving.

After a moment, whatever was nestled within that pocket emerged. A tiny, pigmy version of what Bahr could only assume was a swine creature of some sort. Like a baby pig, or maybe even a boar. It stared up at Bahr and blinked slow, sleepy blinks, before yawning right in the Player's face. It then lazily looked up to the storefront's sign, its beady little eyes seemingly lighting up when it saw it. Bahr traced the animal's gaze back to the sign, before redirecting his attention back at the vermin who apparently called his pocket home.

"Look familiar?" he inquired, still a bit shocked that he was currently talking to a surprise boar. He couldn't tell what exactly was going on behind the eyes of that tiny beast, but it felt like it was answering in the affirmative. So, Bahr gave it a nod, prompting it to retreat back into the hole from whence it came.

It occurred to Bahr that, as had been briefly demonstrated to him before, inventory was digitized in this "game." He dragged downward with his finger though the air which, miraculously, brought about the UI he needed to navigate through his belongings. After fumbling for a bit, he did come upon a couple sets of keys, one of which he hoped provided entry into the small shop. He tapped on one, it materialized, and the UI dismissed itself. He muttered a curse under his breath as it did so, noting he'd need to repeat the entire process again if this wasn't the right key - assuming he even had the right key. But, as it inserted into the keyhole flawlessly and freed the latch with a turn, it seemed his chagrin was all for naught.

The interior of the shop was dim, muddled light barely peeking through the soiled windows. His hand fumbled against the wall until it found what felt like a light switch, which he promptly flipped. Easy light filled the space, revealing a long, narrow room with beautiful mahogany display cases lining either side. Dusty glass lining the tops of these display cases encapsulated what appeared to be a varied assortment of clothing, each article completely unique and separate from the last. Dark oak shelving hugged the walls above the display cases, with various threads, fabrics, and proof-of-concepts populating them. Soft lighting illuminated all of these fixtures with a soft glow, wrapping together the shop's overall ambiance with a neat bow.

At the far end of the room rested a counter, centered in front of backlit lettering attached to the back wall, which spelled out "The Crusty Bahrnacle," with a font to match the sign outside. On either side of this signage were masterpieces of armor that seemed to exhibit the skill and attention to detail of a true artisan. Were they not, too, coated in the thick layer of dust that blanketed the rest of the space, he was certain that they would literally gleam even in the mellow glow. Beside a particularly fanciful hooded tunic was a door that seemed to lead into a space at the back of the shop, where it remained too dark to make out any real details.

He meandered slowly into the space, inspecting every facet of it in its totality, scanning carefully for anything he recognized. And while it all seemed familiar, he couldn't say for certain that he knew any of the things there. He eventually passed through the threshold leading into the back, found another light, and flipped it. The same soft light of the parlor filled what he could only surmise was an office of some sort, with a rich mahogany desk at one side and rolls of various fabrics against the adjacent wall.

Once the lights had activated, the small pig from before once against emerged from his inner coat pocket, hopping down and scuttling its way toward the desk. It jumped up onto the chair, its plump body teetering on the edge of the seat's fabric for a minute before it stabilized itself and crawled all the way up. It then jumped onto the desktop, waddling over to a small, lush pet bed that rested on the corner of the space and laying down. At the base of the bed read "Swine Bajesus," which Bahr could only assumed was the creature's name. What a trip.

With the small monster properly accounted for, Bahr ventured back out into the main room, a pang of anxiety striking him as he feasted his eyes on the mess that lay before him. There was dust everywhere. Whoever had been charged with keeping this space clean had been neglecting it terribly. Though, if that person were supposed to be him, he supposed it made sense. On the counter rested a slip of paper, which he scooped up and inspected (after blowing the fine layer of dust that coated it away). It seemed to be a commission form of some sort, but he could hardly make heads or tails of it. All of the complicated material and aesthetic demands looked like Greek to him. Had he really been some sort of grand clothing architect? And if so, why was it that he didn't even know where to start in a shop like this?

"An... NPC?"

Even Bahr found his own lack of vernacular understanding nearly laughable. Morningstar kept using words like this so flippantly. "Safezone," "NPC." Bahr felt out of the loop. But as they settled into their seats at the cafe, and the ambiance started to settle in, Bahr did feel himself slipping into a state of alert ease. He no longer felt as though his life was on the line. To the contrary, the way that Morningstar had described this place went great lengths to put Bahr's mind at ease. And, while he almost hated to admit it, he liked being around so many people.

His crimson orbs scanned the room, taking note of the various Players that inhabited the cafe. It was a stark variety. Some people looked normal - or, whatever Bahr assumed looked normal. Others looked more dramatic, or extravagant, sporting spikes or shining armor or mysterious garb. Some were serious, others more jubilant. The vast majority of them looked at ease - the same ease Bahr felt - chatting and smiling and overall having a good time. He wondered if this was how it was supposed to be, instead of a living nightmare twenty-four-seven.

His eyes flickered back to Morningstar, who didn't exactly seem to share this sense of ease. Locks of golden hair curled over furrowed brows, which framed amber eyes filled with stress and anxiety. It was clear that something was bothering the young man. But why?

"Do you remember anything at all? From before we met, I mean."

Perhaps it was that he didn't trust Bahr, or believe him. Which he supposed was understandable. After all, he had held the man at sword-point. Bahr probably wouldn't be too trusting of anyone who did the same to him.

"I remember... sounds," he began. "I heard them. Crawling, hissing. Then smell, then taste, each equally horrifying. Then sight, but I didn't know it at first. Blackness, devoid of detail or dimension. Then, I could feel them." He squinted, trying to recall more details. But, as fresh as everything was, it still felt fuzzy.

Luckily, a small woman came around to their table just in time to break the awkward silence. "Hi, welcome in! What can we get started for you?" she asked, voice fueled by simulated jubilation.

"Coffee, black," Bahr replied without skipping a bit, much to his own surprise. He shot Morningstar an inquisitive look, as though to ask, RIght? That's what I like? But it's not like he would know anyway. 

After the NPC had finished taking their orders, Bahr resumed. "I'll be frank - my knowledge of this reality begins in that cave. I don't know anything before that. As far as I'm concerned, I began there. All this talk about us being stuck playing a game or whatever sounds like nonsense, because I never started playing one. I was born here."

"This is a video game. Everyone playing is stuck here until we can beat it. You don't bleed or feel much pain but if you die within the game, it's over; you die outside too."

Preposterous. Trapped in a game? The man was clearly lying.

Yet, there were a few things that Bahr was struggling to explain. The fact that his hand did not bleed, the wall that rejected damage from his blade, slain monsters that leave no bodies, and the fact that his hand would not bleed. There was also floating, descriptive imagery around everything if he looked hard enough. Morningstar himself was titled, and even seemed to have a visible level. Apparently, Bahr had similar imagery hovering above his head, along with a strange crystal to accompany the one the man before him had adorned.
 

"I don't know who you are or how I can help, but I can try. We should go somewhere else, though. A safezone, maybe."

"Yeah... Okay."

- - -

As they wandered, Bahr could see a large civilization of some sort forming on the horizon. It seemed like a massive, walled town. He wasn't sure exactly what it was meant to be, but he surmised that that was going to be their destination. 

"So, there, then?" he inquired, pointing ahead to the Town of Beginnings. "And it's safe there?"

"I guess, for starters, your name is Bahr."

Upon hearing the word 'Bahr,' snippets of audio flooded the swordsman's mind. A multilayered cacophony of voices, each whispering his name over and over. He could tell he'd heard it before, but couldn't tell where. He buried his hand further into his hair, absently grasping at it as the noise consumed him, growing ever louder until his expression had contorted into one of confusion and anguish.

"Your level's pretty high. You must know someone else in the game, right?"

Morningstar's voice broke the spell, jostling Bahr free of the ghostly murmurs. 

"Game?"

He lowered his hand and scrunched the bridge of his nose, gawking at the man with indignant confusion. The body language would suggest that Morningstar had been stupid for suggesting they were playing a game - though, it was true that Bahr didn't have any way of knowing whether it was the truth or not. 

Level?

Yet again, Bahr seemed to be at a disadvantage. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Things hadn't quite been 'right' since he'd woken up. Though, he had no memory of what 'right' was meant to feel like. Whatever was right, wrong, up or down about it, Bahr had difficulty believing that all of this was just some sort of fabrication. 

"... Okay, okay, let's say we wereplaying a game," Bahr began, "Then I suppose I would be able to do something like this, risk free." He rose the sword and placed its blade against his open palm, dashing a slice clean across it. But when the thin red line left behind didn't bleed and, even stranger, didn't hurt, even he, in this infantile state, knew that things weren't adding up.

"What... the hell?"

Again, he shot Morningstar a puzzled look. 

"I don't understand."

"What the hell am I supposed to say to that—a human?"

Human.

The word played through Bahr's mind on repeat like a scratched record. It sounded familiar enough. Human. He supposed it was possible that this man - and by extension, Bahr himself - were human. Human. Weird word. But it made sense. Sorta.

"My name is Morningstar and I mean no harm."

The statement seemed true enough. If anything, Bahr was the more threatening of the two in this situation. After a moment of contemplation, he slowly lowered the blade, keeping a wary eye on the stranger - er, "Morningstar" that stood before him.

"I'm..."

Who was he again? He hadn't given it much thought yet. His palm met with his forehead, fingers lacing between strands of unkempt hair as he tried to remember. 

"I don't remember. I don't know who I am."

Blood flushed his cheeks as he realized how ridiculous he must have sounded. He didn't know anything.

"Everything okay?"

Somehow, Bahr had completely neglected the clomping of the approaching stranger's feet against the soil. The intrusion of his voice zapped through Bahr's senses like a jolt of electricity, spurring him to spring to his feet and leap away. His body, having seemingly acted of its own accord during the whole ordeal, also managed to snag hold of is idle sword in the grass when he rose from his prone position. He rose the tip of Forgotten King's Spite toward the mysterious fellow, less a threat than a promise that he would feel its wrath should he not obey the following command.

"Not another step!" he bellowed, his voice's baritone doing well to mask the pants-shitting fear he was experiencing. So far, the only living creatures he'd come into contact with had tried to eat him alive. How was he to expect that this thing wouldn't do the same?

Crimson hues darted frantically across the fellow's figure, coming to rest against the namesake hovering idly above his head. Morningstar. The fuck is a Morningstar? There was a number next to it. Sixteen. Not a threat, he heard his inner voice say. But how did he know that?

"W-who are you? What are you?" he stammered, demanding the man somehow make sense of the situation for him. When met with the man's puzzled gaze, he shook the sword. "Answer me!"