Freyd

Three for three!  That was a welcome break.  Freyd suspected that the algorithms governing the spawn rate of the spores might be skewed towards easing the complexity of an intro quest - not that he minded in the least.  

"I should really find out where this sword came from," he thought to himself.  While he fully expected that better items existed at higher tiers, its power was quite noteworthy for anyone of his level.  Someone had done him a great favour and he meant to track them down and thank them.  It wasn't the sort of gesture he'd expected, from anyone really.

"I'll need to do the same, when the time comes."  He made himself a promise to do so, then added it as a reminder to his task list, as was his way.

A cold chill spread across his back as a shadow loomed over the pile he'd just finished exploring.  Bacon Bits had respawned.

Gathering wasn't as unpleasant as he'd originally expected.  There was something soothing about taking the time to collect with care.  The next pile revealed another source of spores which was likewise carefully placed into another vial and then returned to his storage.  Taking a quick look about, the grasslands were free of players, other than himself, at the moment.  Most had likely long since moved on to higher floors and more complicated content.  How many players still hadn't done these quests, he wondered?  How many, like him, might one day find courage enough to overcome their fears and try?

Freyd replayed his battle with Bacon Bits in his mind, considering different options and variables, analyzing how certain moves had worked out.  He was genuinely impressed by the variety of responses built into the AI.  It had even seemed to convey mood and emotion, which he hadn't expected.  Were they in any way real, or just part of the simulation?

Clearing out the boar had taken longer than he'd anticipated, but had proven useful.  Turning his attention back to the various piles of glittering soil, Freyd set himself to the more delicate task of searching them for the quest truffles Zackariah had sent him to find.  

"This could take a while," he mumbled, but started digging nonetheless.  

His instincts turned out to be good, finding some of the sought spores in the first pile.  Calling up one of the quest vials, he simply touched it to the truffles and let the game do its thing.

"One filled and four more to go."

It would help that the mobs in this area were spread wide apart and largely non-aggressive.  Freyd swore that the nearest boar gave him a jealous look as he placed his first filled vial back in storage.  He looked around for another nearby pile to search, preferring to keep his distance from other pigs, for the moment.

Bits swayed and staggered for a moment before steadying itself.  Its knees struggled mightily against the strain of gravity upon its bulk and it shook its head as if to pull its wits together for one, last effort.

Frey, meanwhile, stared it down, his weapon at the ready.

*RAWRRR*

The beast's run started slow, but gathered speed as it threw every ounce of its remaining energy into one final attack.  Sword and tusk clashed once more.  When the dust settled, Freyd had another fresh slash on his leg, but Bacon Bits' battered form lay split in twain, shimmering for a moment before exploding into glittering motes of lights that vanished as they touched the ground.

Freyd parted his lips and released the breath he'd held for longer than he could recall.  He needed to work on that, but this was good progress.  He looked upon the mysterious sword that had fallen from the sky, offering silent thanks for their victory.

A sparrow flew overhead, and suddenly the meadow grew silent.  Bacon Bits sneered, its thick hide groaning loudly in the sudden silence.  Twenty feet away, Freyd's hands clenched tighter on Forgiven Disobedience's leather-bound hilt. 

The two warriors gazed upon each other, locked in a contest of wills.  Both sprang into action simultaneously. Bits flailed its tusks wildly as its short, but powerful legs propelled it forward.  Freyd cleaved downward with lightning speed as his opponent rushed into range.  Their paths crossed.

Following the flowing movement of his sword, Freyd spun and faced his foe.  Bacon Bits, on the other hand, was now short one tusk.

The beast snorted and thrashed in agony, but refused to be defeated.  Pulling itself back to its feet, steam-like wisps of ragged breath rose from its badly broken snout.  Its tail swished violently back and forth behind it, revealing the extent of its growing anxiety and desperation.

The boar slumped into the mud, looking defeated.  Perhaps it was resting, or preparing its own cunning quips?  Freyd didn't fall for it and easily dodged as it sprang at him, attempting to smother him under its bulk.  The mud had made it sticky and slowed its bizarre belly-flop maneuver enough that it looked more like it was happening in slow motion.

*splat*

Mud sprayed everywhere, including all over Freyd's cloak and face.  Keeping the hood up might have limited his field of view, though, and he couldn't risk it.  Regardless of what his opponent looked like, it was meant to be a challenge for him.  The fight was dragging on long enough to prove that it was.  Bits regained its footing and the two of them glared at each other as if facing off in some samurai standoff.  Images of Kung Fu Panda flashed through Freyd's mind, despite his best efforts to resist them.

Kicking a nearby clod sent a spray of mud into the beast's face and gave Freyd the momentum he needed to swing the blade high, striking deep into its snout.  It squealed again in protest at the indignity.  Wallowing in the mud was likely perfectly acceptable, but get hacked at by some sword-wielding noob was surely not in its day plan - or so Freyd allowed himself to think.

"Come on, big guy, you still have some fight in you.  Let's keep at it."  

The pig had practically dug itself a little redoubt in the mud, with sludge-like walls built up around it as it turned its bulk to keep facing Freyd.  He, in turn, circled it continuously, waiting for an opening.

"Your move, Bits," he taunted, spitting out the nickname.  "What's it going to be? Shish kebab?"  Freyd's unruly brown hair swayed loosely in the breeze as he waited. 

"Wait?  What?!" he cried as the thing unleashed some sort of battle cry and launched itself at him again.  "Did that actually work?!"

The boar's charge went wide, though more likely because Freyd had given himself more space and thus more time to react.  Bits was mad.  Its cloven feet were slipping in the soft soil, tearing up the grass as if seeking purchase.   Its breathing was more laboured and froth bubbled along the edge of its mouth.  The thing's entire left side was now caked in slick muck from where it had stripped a swath of grass as it had skidded past its target.  Watching it stumble as it struggled to recover and regain its footing was almost comedic as it repeatedly fell back into the mud, or churned it up to create even more.

He needed to watch his own footing now, lest he find himself dancing the same jig.

'Bacon-bits' was more way this time, and Freyd's next strike only managed to trim a few bristles on the boar's back.  The two opponents began circling each other once more, each having struck blows, but neither gaining any decisive advantage.  Freyd made a few more false lunges to see if he could provoke it into faltering, but 'Bits' wasn't buying it.

"Need to try something new, huh?"  he said, watching as its beady black eyes peered at him beneath its thick, leathery brow.

"You know that my last real meal was your cousin, right?"  His stomach growled as if eager to join the conversation, or perhaps reminiscing over the idea of real food, or maybe he was still a bit unhinged and just imagined it.  It didn't really matter.  He was in his element and having fun.  This was proving a tougher fight than he had expected, but improving the accuracy of those expectations was the whole point.

His tactics played out perfectly.  Blinded by the leaves and aggravated by its frustration, the boar made a bee line out of the brush and right into Freyd's parry.  It lost its footing and tripped on a large exposed root, colliding into the oak with a yelp of surprise, then tumbling back into the meadow, sprawled on its back in a particularly undignified position.

As satisfied as he was that his plan had worked, Freyd's face remained passive and fixed.  He got this way whenever he was focused on a task.  His parents used to tease him that he was zoning out, but they didn't realize just how aware he was of his surroundings whenever he was in this zone.  It was like every sense was hyper acute and aware, and all distractions fell by the wayside.

Forgiven Disobedience shone brightly as he brought it back up again in a guard, poised and ready for more.

He darted, but leapt unexpectedly, swinging his blade upward and wide.  The pig merely moved aside, not realizing that it had fallen for his trapped.  Freyd's gleaming blade sliced clean through the massive tree branch that came crashing down upon his unsuspecting target. 

*WOMP*

A very agreeable squeal of pain and surprise accompanied the impact. 

"Okay, come on back, now." Freyd said to it, daring it to come back at him., trying to position himself back near the tree's trunk for advantage.  The edge of his right foot tapped against it to confirm his placement while his eyes remained focused on his foe.  He couldn't help admire how much like a dance the mechanic felt - an impressive feat accentuated by the sense of mortality that was normally lacking in other MMOs.  He turned the grip on his weapon, lifting it high and ready to deflect an incoming blow.  If he caught it right, he could direct its next charge right into the trunk.

"Damn!" he cursed through clenched teeth as it charged at him with surprising speed, catching him slightly off-guard.  He'd managed to partially mask his stance with his cloak, but it wasn't quite enough.  It clipped his right side with one of its tusks, spinning him momentarily off balance.  He sprang after it, trying to keep it from repositioning for another charge.  It wasn't especially large, but it was nimble.  

He spared himself a moment to glimpse at a mesh-wound to that he had inflicted upon it, appreciating the armor skill he'd picked up before starting out.  

The boar rounded a nearby tree - one of the few grand oaks dotting the grasslands - and seemed to be playing a bizarre game of peekaboo with him as they both circled around it.

"Come on out, Bacon-Bits," he taunted it, inside his own mind.  It helped him focus and organize his strategy with clarity.

Freyd soon found himself back at the gates, sword in hand.  He nodded his acknowledgement to Marv, who stoically ignored him.  Small patches of soil now glittered softly in the fields - likely spawn points for the truffles he was sent to fetch.  The boars wandered lazily back and forth, snorting and snuffling as they went.  They were not especially aggressive, but he sorely needed practice, and they made excellent candidates to refine his limited skills.

Charging straight at the nearest one, he triggered his first sword art driving his blazing white blade into the beast's side.  It squealed in pain and surprised, then veered angrily towards him, a large grid-like pattern glowing red along its flank.

"That's better!"  Freyd celebrated.  His first few forays into melee had been fraught with misfortune.  Turning to let his cloak fall over his shoulder, like a matador's, he prepared to receive its counterattack.

"Ah, there you are," came a voice from behind a mess of glassware, half of it lay shattered and strewn about the table, as if from some failed experiment.  "You must be here to assist me with my work!  I tasked the guard to send those with strong arms and keen eyes my way."

Freyd glanced dubiously at his own reflection in a nearby mirror.  "It's an intro quest,"  it seemed to remind him, "just go with it."

"Yes," he replied politely.  "That's precisely why I'm here.  How can I be of service?"

"Good, good," the old man replied, his blue tabard covered in fine silver dust and the scent of cinnamon wafting around him as he waved his arms about.  There was too much clutter around to permit him to move more than a foot or two in any direction, and glassware clinked angrily every time he bumped into his work bench.

"I need samples of blackrot spore that grow on the truffles in the fields around the city.  They are particularly difficult to spot, but the wildlife may help you out if you're observant!  Bring me five filled vials and I shall reward you handsomely!"  He pointed to five empty glass vials on the near side of the table to Freyd.

"Go now," he waved, dismissively.  The nostalgic simplicity of the intro quest actually made Freyd smile.  He'd played this type of start quest so many times in other games.  It felt nice to be gifted with memories of life before SAO by its very first quest.  He touched the vials and noted the pop-up adding them to his inventory, then walked back out the door.

"Urgh... This must be it."  

The building was bright yellow - sickeningly so.  If it was any more cheerful and obvious, it might have made him wretch.

"They really didn't want anyone to miss it, did they?  It's like architecture and a fashion disaster had a baby," Freyd added with a sigh.  The building interior was the very meaning of clutter, and seemingly also bigger than the exterior would imply.  Freyd dismissed it as one of those quirks of design creep.

"Yo!  Zack-master!  Where are you hiding, bud?  I hear you need something fetched or slain in fixed and predictable quantities!"  Was it cruel to tease pre-programmed NPCs?  Perhaps.  There was also the potential that the digital characters could be more aware and capable than he'd observed to date.  Better to be cautious and treat them with a bit more courtesy.  Social graces could suffer unintentional degradation in SAO, over time.  Keeping up appearances was probably also good practice.

His shoulders sagging, Freyd resigned himself that the quest would probably grant better rewards than slaughtering entry zone fodder.

"Okay," he said, approaching the guard, "spit it out, Marv.  What do you have in store for me?"  He couldn't tell when he'd picked up the habit of naming generic NPCs.  It might have been something he picked up in one of the indie MMOs he'd tried out, where the detail level of the content was so abysmal that the mobs only had ID numbers.  Tragic.

"The illustrious alchemist, Zackariah the Great, has need of your services.  Kindly seek him out in the Crafter's district, where he will provide you with additional instruction."

"Your voice is about two octave too high for your girth, bud," Freyd chirped, chuckling as he said it.  "Voice acting casting could have done better for you, Marv, but I'll take the job."

Looking up at the nearby waypost to find his bearings, he turned and walked back into town.

Having wasted an inordinate amount of time meticulously sorting out his very limited quantity of gear and loadout options, Freyd stood at the ornate outer gate of the Town of Beginnings, ready to set out and learnt he basics the game.  His recent near-disastrous exploits on floor six had amply demonstrated that he needed to grip some essential concepts if he wanted to survive elsewhere in Aincrad.  Being the neurotically methodical type, the first floor seemed the obvious - no, necessary - place to start.  It was crucial that he avoid his prior misadventures.

Eyeing the assorted critters grazing in the grasslands just beyond the walls, he raised Forgiven Disobedience high and scanned for the best targets.  Analysis was just inherent to his mindset.  Every detail and nuance had to be considered to generate options, scenarios and contingencies.  His right foot had barely taken a first step forward when a *ping* sounded from the nearest guard and a quest icon appeared over its head.

"Seriously?" he thought, annoyed that it couldn't just have been revealed the whole time.

Freyd had just removed the tip of the starter sword he'd tried to casually flip from his own hand - his attempt at stylish flair having failed spectacularly.  He was just glad that no one other than the guards was around to see it.  It was clearly time for him to invest in some weapon skills if he didn't want to keep impaling himself.  The pop-up menu had just opened when a *Woosh* came at him, followed by a loud *thunk*.

Tilting his head to peer around the menu, he saw the most magnificent, brilliant two-handed straight sword standing before him, its tip buried in the ground to support it, casting small motes of heavenly light to drift up and off with the breeze from where it struck.

He raised one eyebrow before slowly craning his neck upwards to see if some angelic being was going to swoop down and pick it up.  The soft blue sky and fluffy clouds gazed back down at him, as if smiling and saying, "this is a gift-horse moment, dumbass, don't tempt fate."

Staring back at the sword for a moment, he turned back to the skill selection menu in his pop-up and selected 2HSS.

Rewards.

The sun was nearly overhead by the time Freyd reached the main gate.  Wide open grasslands spread out to the horizon before him.  He nodded pleasantly to the guards as he walked by, admiring their simple regalia.  The slight tingle washed through him as he breached the safe zone threshold and entered the wilderness.  In the open meadow, assorted brown-bristled boars grazed while mangy black and grey wolves eyed them hungrily.  Fluffy white clouds dotted the bright azure sky and gentle waves caused the wild grass to sway like waves lapping at a sandy shore.

Freyd drew his sword again, flipping into the air like some flashy pro juggler.  He messed up the catch, and the blade drove itself halfway to the hilt into his right hand.  He hung his head, shaking it from side to side as he started laughing uncontrollably, managing to get out a single word:

"Ouch."

Freyd buried his growing frustration and harnessed it into crystalline focus.  There was a blemish on the creature's leg, just above the knee.  Gripping his blade with both hands, he charged forward, leaping across nearby stones to help propel his momentum.  Launching himself into the air, he drove the tip into the mass of ice and pierced it!  Hanging briefly from the embedded sword, elation swept over him.

"YEAH!!!" he bellowed, as if he'd slain a mighty goliath.  Even the smallest of victories prove extra rewarding when tempered by patience and effort over time.

"Took bloody long enough, but I'm finally in the fight!  Get'em Yuki!  I've...err," the steam seemed to be fading from his strike, "well, at least I don't feel so useless anymore!"

His sword broke free from the Frost Beast's form and Freyd tumbled unceremoniously onto his backside.  A boyish grin still shone across his face, relishing the thrill of battle.

A small reflecting pool nearby caught his attention.  Walking over to its edge, he could see coins shining in the sunlight just below the rippling surface of the shallow water.  The wind stilled and so did the surface, revealing to Freyd his own image in the liquid mirror.  Drawing his simple weapon from its sheath, he touched the tip of the blade to its translucent double.    Small concentric rings emanated from the point of contact as if to say: you are here.  He returned the blade to its scabbard, thinking that he should just be placing it back in his storage instead.  Maybe that just wasn't his style.  He'd need to figure out what that was.

"I guess that's what the next adventure will be about," he told himself.  Turning, he made his way along the main boulevard, admiring colourful banners, decorative topiary and various mercantile wares strewn across window and booths to be on display.  

The Town of Beginnings was just as he recalled.  The merchants still called out, hawking their wares.  Sunlight reflected brightly off polished paving stones.  The Monument of Life shone in the distance, a handful of additional names having appeared since he last reviewed the list.  It no longer felt like the mausoleum where Freyd's shattered mind had consigned him to face his fate by fading into obscurity.  His self-imposed shackles were gone and the world seemed brighter. 

Taking one step forward, then another, he drew a fresh breath and marched off the teleportation platform with his head held high.  Scanning the plaza for quest-givers, then quickly calling up his notes, he took stock of his plans and made ready to implement them.  A gaggle of children raced by, laughing and playing.  One of the young boys among them stopped and waved at him.

A small smile creeping across his face, Freyd waved back to him.

As he strode towards the teleport gate, Freyd turned to survey the jungle town.  This place had inadvertently become the point of his own beginnings - the place where he had finally stepped out from his own shadow.  Perhaps, instead, it had stepped out from him and forced him to confront it.  He let himself feel the sensation of warmth in light and dampness in air.  He drew breath, like a newborn acclimatizing to an entirely new environment.  It felt good.  It felt right.  It was also way overdue.  Checking his simple sword and cloak, he wore them as badges of honour, now, not symbols of shame and shattered confidence.  Exhaling his held breath, Freyd felt a shivering shudder dancing up his spine.   He gripped the hilt firmly as he reached for the arch, awaiting the tingling sensation of teleportation, watching the scene before him fade into the muffled darkness of transit.   

"Okay, so it looks like there are a series of basic intro quests back on the first floor."  Freyd had his screens up again, each filled with reams of notes.  "I'll need to get those out of the way as quickly as possible to get a grip on the content."  He was trying to crunch all the math and watch for easy routes to skills and advancement with a minimum of time and effort - the golden formula to nearly every similar game. 

"There must be useful catches and strategies to bypass some of the fillers in the quests and mechanics."  This line of thought went on for a while before he finally reached conclusions for every thread, but it was his way.  He hadn't felt this zeal and drive in ages, and it felt good.  Finally looking up from his interface, he realized that he had no idea how long he'd been there.