Them

"It's a deal." Cleo, impressed and glad for having run into the other player, nodded. The arrangement was good, if not far more beneficial to Cleo, as Krysta could certainly blow past a quest like <<Earning a Living>> alone. A little time later, outside the bounds of the starting city, the players would wander along a beaten path, traversed by many of the game's remaining players in its time, if not all of them. The day was calm, quiet. A steady breeze hung in the air that caused the trees and the flora to sway back and forth, carrying the occasional leaf up and into the sky.

Despite pricking a thumb on the numerous shards of glass in her clothes and hair, Cleo managed to get rid of them all, save for a few possible stragglers she couldn't see. It gave her time to reflect on what the hell she was thinking, venturing away from the Town of Beginnings for the first time and to such a high floor, far from any town and semblance of safety. In truth, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, a whim after eavesdropping on a party's conversation near the portal in the starting town. 'An easy quest,' they said, 'better to take at a lower level.' And what was not to love about t

Out from the darkness and into the light, Cleo left her old dorm room and came out onto the stage once again, the planks creaking beneath her feet. When the player reached the centre of the arena, she took around at the remaining portals, and then back to the first one, which had since disappeared. The entity, sitting one row down from where it sat before, clapped, in the same rhythm before. Now, though, it was louder, reverberating around the perimeter of the arena, a thump to it. "Enjoying the show?" retorted the purple-head, now realising the shards of glass wrapped up in her clot

A stand-off, a moment of calm. Was the demon looking at Cleo or through her, trying to peer inside and learn all that it could? Whatever it was doing, Cleo readied up, trying for another attack. She targeted the demon. As she stood ready, so did the imitation, mirroring her movements, right down to her trembling fingers wrapped around the hilt of the rusty dagger. A glow, a push forward. Slash!- "Ah!"- A thud, a shattering. The demon, reduced to zero health, faded away. The door, casually, opened, allowing light from the Elizabethan theatre and its numerous

A respite in the battle had let Cleo size up her demon, an imperfect shadow of herself. Its skin, pale against her own, even in the dingy-lit room. Its eyes, while familiar, were washed out as if the colors had faded. Its clothes, worn, ruined by days of wear without washing, were typical for Cleo back then. At least it hadn't kept her sharp tongue and was limited in what it could spout. Or, at the very least, it was holding back. For now, the vague insults and empty threats were easy for Cleo to brush off. She'd thick enough skin for that. The being, not yet worn from battle, took a

Lunging into action, Cleo would line up another attack against the demon as it drank. Her rusty dagger illuminated the dark corner of the room, though another expert dodge from the demon saw the player strike wide and the tip of the blade pierce the mirror behind instead. It shattered and sent shards of silver glass raining across the floor, some catching in the folds of Cleo's robes and hair. In the only piece of mirror that had been left unscathed, she could see the edge of the entity's piercing white smile. It was watching every battle, every move, taunting her at every waking moment.

Slowly, Cleo would come to realize what the demon was. Who the thing was supposed to be, and when it was supposed to be. It was herself toward the end of her time at University, shortly before checking into a hospital for substance abuse. A low point, one of the weakest in Cleo's life, a time which she worked tirelessly with a therapist to forget, to help her move on. It was a ghost of her past, a part of herself that she thought was gone forever. And the fucker had just stabbed her. Slash!- "Ah!"- Her attention fixed on the demon, Cleo attempted a sword art in retaliation,

Soon, the silhouette would stop clapping. It would stare, unnaturally still, unwavering in its smile. Then, it would beckon the player to the first door. Cleo, uncertain of what to make of the situation, yet teetering on caution, began toward it, which was at the very south edge of the stage. It had a number on it, 8C, a handle, yet no hole for a key. During her approach, a vague familiarity would overwhelm her, but why? She asked herself, Why the hell is it familiar? It struck her, the realization. It was the door to her University dorm. No. I loved it there, the ex-student rea

A quietness, eerie, filled the air, choking out any sounds that deigned to occupy the void. Cleo, calm, in touch with oneself, was cross-legged atop a rock that poked out from the shallows of a pond, her fingers creating ripples in the water as they disrupted the current. The journey there, nauseating, sufficed to say, was quick. An escort provided safe passage through the dense brush of the sixth-floor jungles and into the Waterfalls of the Sage, and would do so on the way back, provided she concluded her business in time.Time passed, units uncertain. The quietness ceased to be. Dul

Purchasing the below item 1x Teleport Crystal | [800col]

A pragmatic reason for wanting to be a tailor, Cleo thought. "Makes sense." Early impressions of the blonde woman were that she was resourceful and, more importantly, knowledgeable about the game. She assumed the player was a higher level, high enough to have seen a few of the floors above at least. After she accepted, the quest dialogue disappeared with a bloop, and she exited Richard Textillion's boutique alongside her apparent quest buddy. The other player had been first to speak up, and to what she said, Cleo agreed. Krysta was assuredly more experienced than Cleo. Her attention glide

The other player, a woman of blonde hair and blue eyes, was clad in a set of striking, finely detailed armor. It was in stark contrast to Cleo, who wore a body-length duster jacket and a pair of worn boots for an almost vampiric appearance, akin to a grave-keeper more than anything else. Krysta spoke softly, friendly, to which Cleo smiled in kind. "Cleo. Nice to meet you, Krysta." At that point, the purple-head noticed her mistake, recovered the trinket from the ground, and joined the other player, offering a nod as thanks for holding the door open. Richard Textillion had taken notice of

Cleo's wish to pursue tailoring was simple, if not incredibly naive. As a former drama student in the real world, she wanted to bring theatre to the death game to help raise morale in the Town of Beginnings, where the mood could often be bleak. To do this, one would need to create outfits, many outfits in a variety of sizes, with accessories and props to go with them. That would be too much work to bother the game's leading tailors with, who were already in such short supply, so she decided to take the initiative and become one herself. And so it was that Cleo made headway for Richard Tex

"I'm busy," spoke the gruff, bearded man, who Cleo had already decided was her least favorite of the tutorial NPCs. Not one so easily dissuaded, she launched into conversation. "I promise this will only take a second! See, the Mayor," was as far as she got. "I don't do anything without payment. Go kill a couple of those pesky boarlets for me, and bring back their tusks. They're pretty weak, so even you shouldn't have any trouble. Do that, then I'll hear you out." Cruscius wasn't wrong; I gotta kill something. Bummer. Lyle had returned to whatever it was he was doing before the p

It had been long since Cleo wished for a reminder of home, of what life was like before. A spur-of-the-moment decision led the player to The Evening Star, having eavesdropped heard of the famed artisanry from a party of passerby's earlier in the day. The variety of odds and ends on display caught Cleo's attention, and she casually strolled across the shop floor, boots thumping with each step. The player didn't know what she was browsing for or if she was even looking to make a purchase, as it was equally likely that nothing in stock could provide the comfort so desperately craved.

Thread Finished Thread Rewards 675 EXP (4,076 words / 30 = 135~, 135 * 5 = 675) 400 Col <<The First Lesson>> Rewards 450 EXP 500 Col 5 materials (5) T1 Uncommon Health Potions: Heals 5% of Maximum HP. (1) T1 Uncommon Damage Potion: +1 DMG for an entire thread. (1) T1 Uncommon Overhealth Potion: Adds 5% of Maximum HP to users Maximum HP for a thread. (1) T1 Uncommon Health Potion, quality is based on Crafting Results. Total EXP and Col 1,125 EXP 900 Col

Friends: 1. It was not a bad day overall. She had finished her first quest, made her first friend in Sword Art Online, and learned a valuable tidbit of information that would help her set off outside the city and into the greater beyond. "Yeah, anytime. See you around!" Cruscius bid the other player adieu with a friendly wave and headed off down the same street Yrden had minutes ago. Once again, Cleo was alone. However, it didn't feel the same as it did before. Back when she'd been lounging around on a fence post, nary a thought running through her silver head, she'd be

Cruscius drew up his arms in caution, "Okay, okay! Can't say that it's the most exciting story in the world." Cleo gave him a stern look. "Sorry, not a word more about the questline. If you're interested, though, there are lots of interesting quests out there to do, and most of them involve combat in some shape or form. If you level up a few times, we can hit some of those together if you want?" A friend? Ecstatic, she nodded, perhaps too vigorously. "Yes. God knows I'm screwed if I go out there by myself." A window appeared in front of Cruscius and, a coup

Cleo sat on this new information, pondering for a while. A weapon skill, was that a good move? Could the guy be trying to screw her over? It felt like the first logical step to do damage and defend oneself. "Alright, guy, you got it. I'll get myself some metal and, I guess, slice up a couple of piggies. I never thought I'd be saying that outside of a production." Noticing a little bit of confusion from Cruscius, Cleo elaborated. "Theatre production, I'm involved with a lot of that at University. Well, I was, before the game, and some other stuff." She shook her head, "Unrelated. Sorry, enough

"Yeah, get out of here, buddy," laughed Cleo, "I saw a guy on the first day get impaled by one of those things, right through the chest. Sad, now that I think about it." Cruscius just shook his head. "Don't let day one impressions put you off. Many people died then. That was before anybody knew what to do or that there were even any consequences to dying. Poor guy was probably trying to test out the death mechanic." Cleo watched him sit up. "The next time you get the urge to go out there, try going out with a weapon and spec into a weapon skill. For the most part, they're all good, so it'

Anything holding you back? Yes, Cleo wanted to say. Crippling unease of the unknown, of things that lurk in the shadows in the open world outside the starting city. Of the blood-stained people who had slain another, living person under the faux-anonymity the game provided them. The fear of dying, of not seeing her family ever again. Of wasting years of life in a world which she had only entered in the first place due to feeling bad for her father's misguided gift, the NerveGear. "Maybe. No. Kinda," started the player, putting her thoughts together. "I'm not about to go run out ther

"Nice," blurted Cleo, "Cool name, a little better than mine. I'm Cleo, but my username's Them. Level 1." The two exchanged a handshake when curiosity overcame the higher-level player. "Them, huh? I bet that gets a little confusing sometimes for others." After contemplating that thought for a second, she shrugged. "Maybe, I guess. I wanted it to be ambiguous, mysterious even. When you hear somebody say the word, then you'll never know who they're talking about, that kinda thing." Cleo felt immersed in a rare sense of comfort from the conversation and found herself genuinely relaxing f

"Oh, where to start." Exasperation was rife in his voice. Cleo was enthralled, listening. "Me and Yrden, that asshat, met a little while ago on a quest. I saved him from a pack of wolves, damn close to death too, and we've been buddies ever since. Guy's a little cocky, but he seemed alright." There was a noticeable shift in his tone. "Until this morning, that is. We're on the third floor grinding monsters for perfect items when two of them drop at the same time, and he gets the last attack on both of them. I weakened them down to nothing, so I deserve at least one of them, right?" Cleo

At first, distracted from the pain, Cruscius ignored the approaching Cleo and was much more concerned with the consequences of his misguided action. He turned pretty hastily, an annoyed glint in his eye, which softened on seeing who the other person was. Or at least, who the other person wasn't. "What? Oh, yeah," he shook his fist, seeming to have outlasted the pain. His eyes, a dark brown, were partially obscured by strands of black hair, which he brushed to one side. "It's fine. Thank you for caring, I guess. At least there's one decent person around here!" The man then made a rude gesture a

"Come on, don't be a dick!" yelled a shorter man, clothed in a set of basic leather armor and a beautifully embroidered cloak, with long black hair streaming below his shoulders. His aggression seemed geared to another player, who was far taller and clad in a set of armor with a distinct lion shape pressed into his chest piece. The taller man snorted. "I keep tellin' you Cruscius, finder's keepers. Get back to me when you got the Col." With a flash of a hand, he waved the other player goodbye, a smirk plastered on his face when he turned to leave. Cruscius, as the now-departed man had ref