Salem

Squinting at the bright and bubbly pink text before him, Salem struggled to discern whether or not the notice was a genuine invitation or some sort of recruitment scheme. After all, the writer's tone came off as obnoxiously sweet, deceptively helpful. Eyes continued scanning the text until they came to settle on two final details: a red-haired woman at a cafe in town. 

This couldn't have been posted by Nymoria, could it...?, he wondered as memories of their their breakfast together vignetted his judgement. No, he decided with little more hesitation, This doesn't sound like her at all. She's too shy to ask for help in this way.

Still, rekindled smells of roasted coffee in the crisp spring air beckoned him back to the patio of that familiar street corner. Learning how to gather and level up in combat would be crucial to his effort of becoming stronger. Whether feigned through ignorance or unimportance, no one need know his desperation for achieving those goals. Motivations spoken aloud carried with them the means of control, and Salem wasn't willing to play the pawn.

Stepping through a lopsided wooden door, he made his way toward the counter to order a coffee. Eyes scanned the room as he waited, his senses open to receiving any information indicative of their meeting place. 

The roar of a grinder subsided just in time for him to catch the tail-end of an introduction. "...Need to get my feet off the ground if I'm ever gunna make headway in this... prison.", said a woman with more ink than skin.

That would seem the place., he quietly inferred. Grabbing his drink, he gave a curt nod to the barista and made his way over toward the group.

"Got room for one more?", he asked with a lackadaisical sip from his mug. The red-haired woman appeared enthusiastic, her hands gesturing toward the platter of desserts before her. At least, that's what he'd hoped they were. She couldn't honestly expect him to eat something that looked like unicorn vomit whipped into icing.

And yet, the woman beside him reached forward, grabbing and biting into one of the morsels with little concern. A faint chime and fountain of shimmer seemed to indicate they'd granted her a bonus.

Some sort of status item...?, he wondered to himself. Another sip of coffee disguised a nervous gulp. Hesitantly, he accepted a cake and swallowed it as quickly as he could manage. Whatever intoxicating tsunami of sugar had ensued was immediately chased by another swing of bitter bean juice.


***

Vanity tag: @Nymoria

Salem consumes 1 portion of: Celestial Swirl Cupcake Platter | T1 Perfect Feast | ACC II | EVA I | ID: 239161 (4/6 Remain)

Salem | HP: 100/100 | EN: 28/28 | DMG:4 | ACC:4 (+2) | EVA: 1 (+1)

He scoffed at Nymoria's playful display with some amusement.  "If you'd had said that to me when we first met, I'd be none the wiser." There was something to be admired in her spontaneous, light-hearted banter. The way she found such simple joy in basic interactions, well, it felt fairly foreign to him. Every day in the waking world had felt like an uphill battle with little to be enjoyed. Funny how a setting disposed to combat seemed less dreadful by comparison.

Passing his volumes to the clerk, Salem purchased them both before exiting the store. "This is more than I've done in a day for as long as I can remember.", he answered, "I don't know what else I could want -- what else is even out there." For once, a quiet mind reigned supreme, bringing with it a tranquil appreciation for the present moment. "I think...I'll go back. Read a little, decide where to go next.", a smile flashed across his features, Find out where it is I want to live... Curling the books closer to his chest, he offered a brief bow, "Thank you for help today, and your company." A moment's hesitation ushered in a candid reminder, "The next Scents of the Wild quest -- I'll prepare for it and message you when I'm ready."

With the gleam of assurance in his eyes, Salem said, "I hope to see you then."

He'd all but returned to his search before Nymoria added further context to the brief reply. A universal translator was beyond practical, it was revolutionary. Of course, any publisher would want to disseminate their game as far and wide as possible. Allowing users to select their preferred language had been accomplished decades prior. The true achievement came from how this one was developed and implemented. Live translation. To every language. It seemed comical to regard with such awe considering how many other technological wonders he'd already encountered.

Tucking the philosophy book beneath his arm, Salem continued to review his previous selection. It seemed straightforward enough, a detailed but comprehensive guide on SAO's more complicated mechanics. Like many other MMOs, this universe appeared to have its own spin on status ailments and advantages consumables. He'd only been aquatinted with the basics of health, stamina, and damage thus far. This one seems useful enough., he determined, I could stand to do some research before I start fighting. 

A fleeting glance toward Nymoria caused him to freeze in place. With the agility of a sprinting shrew, the silent player reached around him and drew another novel from the shelf directly behind. She seemed content with her selection, meandering toward the sales clerk with a springy step. "I hear you in my mind, yes.", he began softly, tracing her path, "But your voice doesn't sound...there's a robotic quality to it." Another barrier between our worlds. He caught himself smiling wistfully for a moment. "Have you found what you were looking for?", he asked instead.

Eyes couldn't help but inspect the cover of her chosen literature. From this perspective, it was difficult to distinguish its title, let alone its genre.

Dull lanterns illuminated a low-lying ceiling as trickling candlelight licked the edges of hardcover books. A few moments proved necessary to override his mind's instinctual alarm to the potential fire hazard. Trailing in after Nymoria, Salem soon branched off to investigate a nearby nook. Labels seemed absent from the warped shelves, giving a much more eclectic feel to the collection's sorting, or lack thereof.

He almost preferred it that way. There was a certain adventure to be had in combing through titles to uncover the few that truly called to one's own curiosities. Ears only half-listened to his company's transpiring banter as his fingers plucked potential reads from the row before him. By the time he'd caught on to her sarcasm, a tracing finger had slowed to serve as an absent placeholder.

Slowly, he turned to regard her with narrowed eyes, a sardonic smirk plastered across his face. Gradual blinks indicated that he would make no effort to riposte. She was clearly having her fun, and he was in no hurry to stop her.

In a playful motion, she'd tossed another book his direction. A sloppily-performed reflex proved enough for him to catch the thing with his opposite hand. Fashioning his already-held handbook into...a left...hand-book, he pryed open the work to begin inspecting its contents. "The Non-Existence of the Real World...", he scoffed dryly, "Sounds like a real riot." Salem appeared to scan a couple of sentences before closing the book in his right hand and turning it to inspect the covers. "Seems to discuss ontology. Haven't heard of it before, or the author.", he considered before asking, "Does...SAO translate text for its players? Like how I'm able to hear your -- well, how I can hear the AI voice when you sign?" The prospect genuinely hadn't occurred to him until now. Up until this point, he assumed that everyone in this universe was native to Japan -- at the very least, everyone was speaking Japanese. That's how he heard it. 

A curt nod indicated that he'd heard her response and acknowledged an understanding. We're living in similar situations then. He honestly hadn't expected that. The way she'd offered to help him find a home...would it have been more suitable than her own accommodations? Passing through such picturesque neighborhoods was beginning to feel more bleak by comparison.

He opted to mull over Nymoria's rebuttal, taking each point into consideration as the cadence of footsteps carried them closer to their destination. "You're correct in saying they were built with a purpose, although it differs from the utility of traditional housing. And...I can see why the justification of 'how' quickly becomes less sensible to defend. I hardly see the merit in arbitrarily disqualifying intention based on which tools humans decide to use." Salem paused before adding, "Still, I'd have disagree with one philosophy -- If it isn't truly real, how could it be the same?" His eyes seemed to flicker with curiosity as he glanced in her direction. 

"I don't believe in 'true' reality. Someone could experience their entire life here, never knowing of what existed on the other end of a cable. For that person, this would be real. That being said, we know there's something else out there." All of this is just an emulation, the shadow of something more tangible., he stopped himself from saying.

Salem inhaled steadily, showing more restraint than was typically characteristic of him. Nymoria had already shown a sensitivity to discussing her history outside of the game. For now, it was best not to press any further.

It hadn't been long before the both of them reached the threshold of a ramshackle store. Dilapidated in its supposed age, the structure sat lopsided with window frames drooping inwards like the shelves of a well-stocked bookcase. An azure limewash did little to conceal the ever-spreading cracks of the exterior spackle. As they neared the entrance, Salem's nostrils were assaulted by the musty scent of dust mites and stale paper. Sparing a moment to recoil from the pungent smell, he declared, "Yep -- that's a bookstore alright."

"Yes", he quickly agreed, following behind her as they exited the cafe. Returning to the streets rekindled a certain excitement within Salem. Unlike the real world, venturing out to such unfamiliar surroundings felt rewarding rather than disappointing, invigorating instead of taxing. He would chalk most of that up to novelty. Such rare feelings were often short-lived, at least in his experience. Still, there was something intentional about how the town was structured. With roads jutting out from the city centre like spokes on a wheel, it felt as if the world around him was calling out from every cardinal direction. One hardly needed squint in order to see the grandiose outer walls, their towers rising to cast crisp shadows on the cobblestones below.

He marveled silently at the cool reprieve that came from the pair passing beneath a nearby cathedral. "I think it's strange", Salem said, "To think that none of the buildings here were built by human hands...Obviously someone needed to model and code them, but that's not the same. They weren't built with a purpose in mind, for the necessity of providing shelter." The realization made him feel like a miniature touring through a hobbyist's set. While many structures sported predictable decorations and basic materials, he would catch occasional glimpses of homes with more character. Vibrant paints and personable tapestries did well to distinguish many of the player houses from the rest in the village.

"I never asked where you stay. Do you live somewhere in this town?", Salem was unsure whether or not that the question would border on engaging or intrusive.

Cardinal, he took special notice of the reoccurring detail, I remember seeing that on one of the starter screens. Is that...some sort of transcribing device? Figuring it best not to inquire about something he could investigate later, Salem focused instead on hearing out Nymoria. "Well you haven't exactly given me anything to dislike, yet.", he stated plainly, "We must have different definitions for what makes someone 'a lot of work'."

Sliding back his chair, Salem rose to his feet, lifting his mug away like a prize from a claw machine. He stood there silently for a moment before sparing a glance toward the other tables. What few patrons were cycling their way through the establishment had chosen to leave their dishes behind. Following suit, he set his cup back on the surface. Salem watched with widened eyes as the thing rippled in appearance, then erupted into a column of pixels.

"Oh yeah -- I've gotta get used to that.", he remarked with amusement. "If you're finished with your stuff, would you like to walk around?" It seemed that the earlier crowds had begun to thin as players scattered into colorful stalls in search of a hearty mid-day meal. "I was wondering", he started, "What there is for literature around here -- I can't imagine many works from the real world have carried over, but I might like to get my hands on an adventurer's guide, or maybe a story about a quest in a nearby land."

It was wholly possible that their interaction was due to end. Still, he wanted to extend the invitation to Nymoria. After all, she had expressed her desire for companionship and he could only benefit from the escort of someone who was already familiar with the area. 

Salem watched quietly as Nymoria appeared to wither and withdraw into herself. That seemed...unusual for her, and in stark contrast to the abundant enthusiasm she exuded mere moments ago. He'd said something wrong, or at the very least, chosen his words carelessly. I only brought attention to the fact this is fake. She looks sadder remembering that. Eyebrows furrowed slightly as he mulled over unforeseen implications.

He'd thought it important to not get carried away in the fantasy of it all. At the end of the day, he...was paralyzed. She was deaf and mute. Callously, he wondered, What would Nymoria have to lose, her senses haven't even been returned. She can hear and speak here just as well as there.

SAO had returned his greatest wish to him - the ability to walk, to run like a normal person again. By logging out, he would lose his legs, and with them, the freedom to do any of that again. His chest constricted as anger rose within him. Choosing to stay here is selfish - we can't escape what we are just by turning on a headset. And even if he could, what would that do to his parents? They'd already faced that tragedy before. He couldn't bare to put them through it again. Everyone has a life to return to, friends and family that would miss -- a realization clicked.

Tension bled from his digits as he relinquished unconscious constriction from around the base of his cup. Leaning back in his chair, Salem considered the best way to salvage his misreading of her situation. "I can see why you like this cafe.", he finally said, "And I'm glad you invited me here. I've enjoyed your company...." He did his best to craft a genuine smile from features still laden with uncertainty.

"It's been a long while since I've been able to get out like this...", he admitted as a finger tapped unsteadily on the side of his ceramic. Salem's lips drew to a line, his throat swallowing dryly as his gaze lingered on rings of stale coffee below.

The topic swiftly shifted to one of the shop they were visiting. Salem took a few additional sips of his coffee as Nymoria cataloged its discovery like it was some sort of scientific breakthrough. It was endearing to see how captivated she became with simple things, especially in a world teeming with whimsy. At least, he assumed there were more fantastical creatures and places to see on the floors above this one. 

Still, the discussion made him reconsider his relationship to this reality. As his gaze drifted from the streets to the faces of passing players, he wondered what it would even look like to settle down and begin a life here. How long would it be before he began to talk about the busy parts of town and the best places to buy a cup of coffee? His thoughts drifted outwards in search of an answer. 

 You said you'd awoken and met a lady who gave you some guidance? Have you been alone since then?

A pang of guilt coursed through Salem.

"Yeah", he absently answered.

Slowly, his gaze began to return to Nymoria and the table that sat between them. Another swig of coffee seemed to ground his wandering mind and dispel the distant expression he'd unknowingly adopted. "It still feels like a game to me, all of this. Everything is so real...but its so different from my life." For once, Salem felt like words were failing him. What emotions could normally be parsed out over several seconds were beginning to form a gnarled wad he could barely begin to unravel. "I think...that that the other players, people like you, are the only reason any of it makes sense. Otherwise, it would be too jarring. Too similar but too different in the most uncanny way." He sighed uneasily before concluding, "It's cruel to be trapped here, but the sh*thead did us a favor by putting us together."

Something seemed to stir in Nymoria as the woman sat down her items and began to sign towards Salem, My...situation makes it hard for me to engage with many people. I was left to...do what I could. She gave pause before adding, As you can imagine, I am not the most reliable member in a party when it comes to combat. Or anything, really. Communication is key in partying, right?

Humans really were uniquely capable of getting in their own way, and he wasn't impervious to that. In truth, Salem resonated closely with what Nymoria had described. Such an impairment made it all too easy to feel inadequate, incomplete, and undeserving of respect. In many ways, his outward limitations had carried a much more substantial threat. That was, the fear of knowing that anyone could isolate you from the pack. Part of him was astonished by the propensity to pray on those who were so clearly weaker. Another part of him wondered if that was the fairest part of all.

...But the good news is, this world carries many wonders., his company optimistically continued, ...I may not be up front fighting with the best of the best, but I'm helping myself - and some others - back here. Working towards a goal of escaping back to the real world, right? That's what matters...

He gave an agreeable nod to that. 

"You seem reliable enough to me. I sure as hell wasn't about to find that cave.", he assured her. "And honestly,", Salem found himself saying, "You do what you can, and that's enough. No one gets to tell you otherwise." His voice undertook a certain nonchalance, contrasting with a stare that communicated greater seriousness. 

Salem awkwardly accepted the chunk of muffin from Nymoria. Several small crumbs flaked off from its surface, falling and fizzling out of existence as he raised the rest of it to his mouth. It tasted as he would have expected, its texture much more nuanced by comparison. I don't understand how our senses work here, he reflected, It makes sense that we'd be able to taste foods that we're familiar with, that's just like dreaming. But what about things we've never tried before? How would our bodies know how to interpret those? He'd have to give it more thought later on.

Where have you spent the last while? Do you have a home? A place to sleep and stay? Most of us stay in hotels. Do you have a hotel?, Nymoria asked, If you don't have a place to sleep. I know of one. I can show you. Not expensive.

"Yeah", he vaguely answered most of the questions at once, "I spawned in a small tavern called The Hummingbard Inn."  His face seemed to indicate that he was considering adding more context the response. "I met another player there after I woke up", Salem continued, "She said that it was a starting home, but that it'd been awhile since someone had woken up in one of the rooms." Pausing to drink more of his coffee, he glanced at her hand to check whether or not she was preparing to sign. With both of her hands moving at once, it was somewhat difficult to anticipate when she was ready to reply. "We ran a quest together, and she gave me enough Col to move somewhere else." A hand raised to comb through the side of his hair as he admitted, "I haven't done anything with it yet since I don't know where to go. I haven't left the first floor yet, but I imagine some of the other ones are preferable to this."

He couldn't shake the feeling that he was out of place here. Even as the introductory level, this town was teeming with talented craftsmen and seasoned warriors. How was he meant to catch up when Elora said he had slept in - how many years - "Two or three"? He would have regarded his hesitance as cowardice had it not been for the warnings of those more experienced. In the couple of days since he'd woken up, Salem was warned on more than one occasion about the dangers of venturing in areas outside of a certain radius. His only plan at this point was to level up enough in the hope that it would grant him that freedom.

The small cafe seemed a place of respite in a bustling sea of NPCs and battle-hungry players. Salem had only been in The Town of Beginnings for a few days now, but that time had proven enough to acquaint him with its hectic atmosphere. In a way, it reminded him of his visits to Tokyo, albeit a much older and more fantastical version of the neon metropolis.

He did his best to keep up with Nymoria as the player darted around bodies and obstacles to reach the entrance to the establishment. It seemed welcoming enough, though the noticeable lack of occupants made Salem acutely worried about the shop's reputation. We can't get food poisoning here...can we?, he wondered between steps. By the time he reached the counter, Nymoria had already begun to recite her order.

I'll take a dark roasted with a side of chocolate chip muffin, please., she stated with more conviction then he'd expected, What would you like? You can order anything, consider it my treat.

The offer had caught him off guard. "Uhh...", he stammered before sparring a brief glance to look at the menu, "A dark roasted coffee for me as well." He would have been disappointed in his originality if the preference wasn't true to his tastes. To him, most teas tasted like a harmonious combination between dirty water and spoiled herbs. Coffee, on the other hand, was so much more decadent and savory in its profile. As long as it wasn't too watery or too burnt, it appealed happily to his senses.

Their hostess prompted the transaction along, providing each of them with the goods on a nearby tray. Salem offered to carry it to their table, encouraging Nymoria to determine where they sat. Despite his new circumstances, he still found himself scanning the room, crafting a strategy to take the path of least resistance. With narrow spaces and sardined seating, settings like these were more than often a source of a stress rather than one of recreation.

He successfully dispelled the unnecessary caution and followed her to a wooden table. The two of them settled into their seats, grabbing each of their items to try in turn. Salem was pleased to find that the coffee was inoffensive, and surprisingly, complex in its flavor. "Huh", he remarked, "Coffee usually burns me on the first sip. Somehow, it's perfectly temperate here."

***

Salem | HP: 100/100 | EN: 28/28 | DMG: 4 | ACC: 2 

All he could do was offer another nod of affirmation. There was no reason for her to thank him, but she extended gratitude in spite of that. If she acts this indebted to everyone, she's gonna be taken advantage of., he found himself assuming. Maybe that's unfair., came the immediate reflection. It seemed nonsensical to praise her capabilities one moment only to ridicule them the next. He just couldn't shake the feeling that she was someone who needed protection. She seemed...too bright for the world, too uplifting with the gravity of their current circumstances. The instinct was unfounded and misplaced. I'm the weak player here, he was sure to remind himself. 

Shall we head back to town?, he parted from his thoughts to listen,...Maybe we can find somewhere to have a coffee?

Salem was caught off-guard by the candid invitation, as if his personal thoughts had seeped through and dispelled their chances of continuing a conversation. "Sure", he found himself replying, "That sounds...really nice." With the curt bow of his head, he ushered them forward and back toward that winding path. "Let's take care not to wander into any boars", he jokingly remarked, "I haven't actually engaged in combat yet, and I don't think either of us is ready for that sight."

A sequence of softly-heralded alerts tumbled through his interface as Nymoria signed their titles to him. For a brief moment, he felt overwhelmed, or perhaps it was the pangs of exasperation. Are we meant to do all of these at once?, he grumbled as each menu was expanded to skim the details.

Looks like you can do them as you wish., the female player had speculated, Maybe...together? Salem looked up from the text to regard her as she had finished posing the question. Unless you do not want to do it with me. I would understand. You must have other friends here to find., she quickly deferred. 

"I'd like to.", he insisted with a nod. Although her assumption of his popularity had been inaccurate, he made no effort to correct it. "You're not an ear-full, I appreciate that.", he offered as an uncertain hand raised to rustle the back of his head. The unintentional ambiguity of that statement hadn't occurred him until after he'd said it. A rising embarrassment indicated that it was his turn to evade her glance. "Ah -- not like that, what I mean is, you know how to handle yourself. You make for good company." With a pointed inhale, he waved his hand to motion their departure. "If we're done here, let's head back to the surface." There's no reason to wait for monsters to spawn and attack us. Carefully, the two of them made their way back to the tunnel they'd descended from. Salem was careful to keep a watchful eye on Nymoria as they hobbled over slippery stones and ducked beneath low-hanging passageways. By the time they'd exited the cavern, the sun had skirted across the sky to a marginal degree. How long was that? An hour? Haven't gotten a grasp on the day-night system here... 

Salem felt a similar excitement as the two of them swiftly translated swathes of symbols into recognizable letters. He appreciated the strategy of it all. There was an infectious nature to the challenge, an unexpected deviation from the usual adrenaline of combat. At the very least, battles that were waged from the other side of a computer screen. Tilting his head, he followed her examinations of the text. Line by line, it was beginning to sound like...

"I swear to god, if this translates into a riddle --", he remarked to her with a sarcastic smile.

Casting his speculation aside, he continued to pick apart the text. This time, he'd left the template of his message open just to write out, erase, and rewrite each attempt at deciphering a word. I'm seeing "free", "forest", "harness", "benefit", "Keepers of Nature". Uniting his new findings with Nymoria's seemed enough to provide the remainder of what they needed. Ever so slowly, new letters began to reveal themselves, until eventually:

"...the unmoved titan who is callous and free; a sly shadow high in the branches of the forest; and lastly, that which prowls and safeguards the sky. Only once vanquished will you harness their power to your benefit. These are the Keepers of Nature.”, he had successfully interpreted and shared with her.

"Nym, I think we did it.", he declared with a contented sigh. Now, he pondered with a second reading, What does it all mean?

***

ID:222943 | LD: 10 | Cipher Attempt | Result: [62/60]

The cipher has been decoded!

Nymoria immediately became immersed in the challenge of it all, her hands tracing an invisible line in the air as her mind began to unravel the code. Rather than lurking over her shoulder, Salem instead took a moment to examine their picturesque surroundings. The grotto's ceiling was dappled with columns of stalactites that occasionally dripped into the deep cerulean spring below. Countless ripples of refracted light undulated across the limestone walls while others still spilled and twisted across his body like some sort of lovecraftian horror. Maybe I was wrong about this world., he marveled silently as his gaze drifted upwards to follow the fading projections. Swaying above them were wispy vines that sliced apart what few sunbeams had made their way through the overgrown vegetation. Compared to the matted-down moss that clung to the sides of the cavern, they appeared more eloquent and free.

A few moments passed before an alert commandeered his attention. Opening the message, he began to read Nymoria's findings, perhaps more accurately, speculations.

'Seeking' seems a safe assumption., he wrote after some consideration, There aren't many other words with two ee's placed together in that configuration. They could be two o's...but let's explore this possibility for now.

"Wait a second...", Salem halted his typing and lifted a hand to cusp the bottom of his chin. Those two characters appear again at the very end here, but -- not the same word. He continued typing to include the observation in his message. Besides that discrepancy, we can assume that the end of 'Seeking' is an 'ing'. Let's try to apply those letters elsewhere. His first instinct was to work from the beginning. 'I_' -- 'If'... 'If seeking' 

'I~' 'I-' similar words with different spellings. 'In', he determined for the one that shared the first two characters from 'ing'. That leaves... 'Is', was his guess. If these are correct, we've unlocked the letters: s, e, k, i, n, g, f, and s so far. That should give us a solid trajectory.

By the time he'd finished writing the message, Nymoria was already scouring the text in search of additional connections. Still, he thought it best to send his summary as he had written it out.
 

***

ID:222802 | LD: 5 | Cipher Attempt | Result: [41/60]

To: Nymoria
From: Salem

There's probably a lot that I don't have experience with. I woke up two days ago.
 

He took pause to consider if there was more to add to that statement. A change in their path prompted him to send it as is. Only a matter of seconds lapsed before the two of them meandered around and into a flooded basin. At the cavern's center rested a singular elder tree. Even from afar, one could appreciate how the cascade of roots had tirelessly snaked around a pile of boulders to prop itself beneath a beam of light.

If that's not the most videogame-looking waypoint I've ever seen..., he mused upon seeing it.

Salem figured it best to linger back and await the onslaught of whatever traps would inevitably be set off by Nymoria's interaction with the relic. When nothing spawned, he cautiously chose to accompany her by the base of its trunk.

This look like a cipher?, she asked, motioning to the bark.

Leaning forward, he began to examine the strips of runic carvings. "I'd say so, but it's not written in any language I can recognize.", he noted. With hand outstretched, he borrowed the tablet to have a closer look. "These share similar markings, that's good at least. We could start with decoding the shortest articles, though that assumes its alphabetic. Their characters could just be symbolic." He passed the object back to her before inquiring, "Have you encountered anything like this before?"

***

ID:222704 | LD: 9 | Cipher Attempt | Result: [28/60]

Nymoria seemed uncertain in how to respond. After a look of consideration, she signed, Not a lot of information, sadly. Could have been given everything about the quest, for the right price. Beyond my price range though...

Like a micro-transaction then? Seems odd to stunt progress so early on with a paywall, especially if we're not exchanging real currency... "Who do you pay?", he asked while she was still facing him. It seemed an important subject to be informed on, especially if the majority of quests were unlocked that way.

The pair continued searching the forest floor for any signs of the cave. It proved to be a difficult endeavor, however, because of the sheer number of roots, shrubs, and vines clambering across every surface. Salem determined to pay special attention to any rocks that seemed to protrude upwards and out of the multitude of mossy knolls. Eventually, his companion emitted an excited squeaking sound, tugging at the end of his sleeve to get his attention. He turned her way to see a large recess in one of the slopes, its opening concealed by draping grasses like a more whimsical entrance to a 70s bedroom.

"That appears to be it", he remarked to himself before praising Nymoria, "Good job!"

You must be good luck!, the belated woman began to sign, I've been searching all morning for this! Finally found it, after finding you!

Salem smiled at that, partially because the sentiment made no sense, mostly because of how enthusiastic she seemed at the discovery. He couldn't recall another point in his life where he watched someone get so excited over something as dank and depressing as a glorified hole in the ground. Her curiosity demanded he pick up his pace, lest he lose sight of her at a moment's notice.

The pair descended into the cave as light quickly dwindled from the tunnel behind them. As far as caves went, this one was easy to navigate. Sure, there were a few slippery rocks and crevices where he had to contort his skeleton to sidle through, but at least they hadn't encountered any monsters. Salem was certainly surprised by how navigable his surroundings were. With a dim radiance encompassing them, the atmosphere was less like a real cave and more like a closed-off closet with a light on the other side. 

He had caught a glimpse of something fleeting, a resistance to his touch, a factor left uncalculated. Whatever hint of fear that he identified was quickly circumvented by a wave of...laughter? For what felt like far too long, Salem stood there, engrossed in embarrassment as the woman keeled over and nearly hacked out a lung at his expense. Probably the better alternative, he reassured himself through a veil of crimson, At least she hasn't run away or attacked me.

He did his best to crack a candid smile as she regained her composure and began to sign. You did get your point across, but...sorry. Not many people try and...make it work. I appreciate you for that. The thanks evoked a more genuine smile, though bittersweet in origin. Salem understood all too well how scarce seemingly obvious accommodations could be. He was thankful many of those hinderances were no longer applicable to him here. 

Oh, my name is Nymoria. It's spelt with the symbols for 'broken' and 'flower'. It's a pleasure to meet you., she introduced herself.

Salem, he typed out and sent to her account. Blessedly, the system had auto-suggested her after a couple of attempts at spelling the first half. A pretty unique name, he noted to himself with a returning bow. 

The caves are never so dark that I can't readhear what you're saying, but I can type fast., Nymoria assured, So messages would be good. That way you can readhear what I'm saying back, without needing to watch me. The woman seemed to reabsorb whatever color had finally left his features in another another bout of insecurity -- or something, he hadn't entirely identified what that was.

With a wave of his hand, he motioned her toward, what was hopefully, the direction of the cave. In actuality, he had no clue where he was going. Was it...Secrets of the Wild she had said? He opened his UI to search for a tab on quests. All that could be seen was the First Lessons quest he had already completed and a few others that had been issued from spontaneous interactions with various NPCs. No information then..., he surmised. 

Do you have any leads?, he started to write, What sort of cave is this? Hole in the ground cave? Hole in a mountain cave? His questions felt juvenile and undeveloped. He sent them over anyway, then looked to Nymoria for a response.

Salem could feel his muscles constrict as the woman moved toward him with a deadpanned stare. As moments passed, he quickly understood why the reflex was misplaced. She's reading my lips. Under any normal circumstance, the limitation would be easy to identify. His condition in the real world had made him more receptive to that. But in SAO? Isn't the game...supposed to fix that?

A frustrated flurry of signs implied his question had lacked the appropriate etiquette. Yes. Can understand you. A bit. If looking at face. Hard to hear. Impossible sometimes., she responded with flushed features. Looking for cave., she rapidly continued, Quest near here. Are you also looking for cave? Scent of the Wild? Have you heard of it?

"A cave?", he questioned the concept aloud.

Maybe...we could look together?, she suddenly suggested.

She wants to go on a quest together?, his mind began to simulate the logistics of that. Well, she should definitely have a guide if she's going to descend into a cave. But I don't know any sign language. She'd need to be able to read my lips. Maybe I could go in before her -- no, that wouldn't make it any easier. She could walk in front of me. For some reason, ushering her down into the monster-ridden abyss didn't seem the right solution. That's not the issue, it would be way too dark for her to see anything I was saying, anyway. I could -- His eyes shot down to glance at her hand. Not ideal., he discounted with a slight frown. Maybe -- A realization caused his eyes to widen. "Is there an in-game --" 

By now, the timid player had already ducked to shuffle her way past him. Without consideration, Salem extended an arm to halt her. Clasping one hand carefully around her shoulder, he did his best to guide - not force - her way back to facing him. He took special care to lean forward so she could understand his next statement.

"Message", he said bluntly. The emphasis on annunciation felt foreign and more demanding than he intended. Was tone going to be an issue with her? Provided it was, he offered a follow-up. Releasing her shoulder he lifted his left hand to summon his UI. After a few stalled moments of unsuccessful navigation, he eventually found his way to creating a new DM. 

Salem raised his right hand to cover his eye before lowering it to conceal his mouth. 'Neither of us will be able to see', the charade seemed to imply. He couldn't deny that all of the motions made him feel pretty ridiculous and somewhat Neadrathalic. His only hope was that it came off as helpful rather than demeaning.

An icy glance shot her way as Salem flinched in turn. It wasn't like him to startle easily, but in some ways, this world had put him more at a disadvantage than the waking one. Another player., he quickly determined. Tension gradually bled from his features as he inspected her appearance. Small. School-girlish, docile., were his initial instincts.

Her hand lifted to offer a candid greeting before cycling through a series of gestures. You. Here. Alone?, came the projection of a feminine voice. Its cadence, although soft, sounded off, like a computer's rigid recreation of human speech. 

Did her lips even move?, he reflected apprehensively. The green icon above her head seemed to denote her as another player. Still, he considered, Could be a trap. 

"I'm not an enemy.", came his avoidant response. There was no reason to dispose of whatever precious leverage he had.

But as silent seconds passed, his assessment began to feel misplaced. Here he was, a six foot vagrant dressed in all black trudging along the backcountry of the first floor. The girl before him looked like a goddamn deer in the headlights, with trembling legs and darting eyes, it was a wonder she hadn't succumbed to cardiac arrest. 

The realization hit Salem like a brick to the head.

"I'm just out for a walk. Came to recently and looking for a way to level up." He paused before asking, "You sign everything you say?"

Scents of The Wild: Keepers of Nature

Sticks snapped beneath the soles of the solitary player as he made his way to a nearby forest. Still new to the circumstances of this simulated world, Salem found himself in search of substance, perhaps more importantly, something to do. If this game was like any other he'd played, he'd have the opportunity to beef up his stats in a matter of days. Advised against combat, he instead sought to hone his skills through other means.

Best not to leave the first floor until I've completed some quests., Salem cautioned before adding, Seems restrictive, but I'm not about to die to a baby boar.

Floor 1 seemed as vanilla as it got: grassy fields, blue skies, and a modest helping of deciduous trees. Snaking across the prairie was a dirt road that connected The Town of Beginning to...well, wherever he was going.

Salem was soon enveloped by the cool shadow of a leafy canopy that rustled overhead. With hands in his pockets, he allowed himself to bask in the ambience. The humming of bees, croaking of frogs, and whirring of cicadas formed a melody made evermore pleasant by the fact he wasn't being eaten alive by mosquitos. So there are some benefits to the game's limitations, he quietly considered.

*crack*

Hands drew from Salem's jacket in an instant as the sudden sound commandeered his attention. 

***

Salem | HP: 60/60 | EN: 24/24 | DMG: 4 | ACC: 2

Salem stared at the notification, blinking a few times before giving a slight bow to Elora. I have no idea how much this 'col' will get me, but "Thank you.", he said anyway, "If this is enough to move out of the inn, I appreciate your generosity." Though, he continued to speculate, I'm not sure she can afford to hand out this much currency to every player she encounters.

"Let's get this quest finished.", he ushered them to return to the NPC's establishment. Zackariah greeted them cordially, his attitude still optimistic in the odd hours of evening. After being prompted to cast all the materials he'd gathered into a large cauldron, Salem had successfully crafted his first consumable item. The potion was lackluster in appearance, its off-green contents sloshing carelessly through the walls of a simple glass bottle.

"That healing potion could help you in the next leg, but it's been a long day.", stated Elora. "I'd recommend getting some shut eye -- and some daylight -- before initiating your first fight." 

She gave him a curt wave before saying her goodbyes, "Message if you need me, otherwise, good luck."

Salem nodded as the woman slinked out from the shop and into the cool night. Now, to find a place to crash.

Thread Summary

Elora recieves:

2317 EXP (Word Count [8,277/10*4*0.7])

Salem recieves:

1029 EXP (Word Count [8,277/10*1*0.7] + Quest [450])

• 500 Col (+50,000 from Elora)
• 5 materials
• An Assortment of Potions:
  • (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 Health Potion (Uncommon)

Salem's hand reached to remove a bulbous purple flower from the corner of the cottage's foundation. Momentary pause soon gave way to a triumphant alert.

    ALL ITEMS GATHERED!    

The translucent notification quickly faded, its fleeting congratulations immediately curtailed by a reminder to return to the quest-giver.

"That was remarkably tedious for an introductory quest.", he commented dryly as a hand waved to dismiss the menu.

"Yeah -- but they say it's necessary, I guess -- I don't know. Just one of those things you gotta slog through to get to the meat of this game."

That doesn't bode well for the rest of this hell.

"Come on!", yelled Elora with a slap to his shoulder, "Let's get this shit back so you can start killing dragons and shit. Actually -- it's probably the baby pigs next. Don't worry, they deserve death --", she was sure to console him.

"Right...", he feigned his agreement. Should I be concerned?

Salem carefully knelt down to pluck one of the many plants from the interactable flowerbed. Unlike many of his previous attempts, this item promptly left the patch of soil and entered the pockets of his digital inventory. Seems like we just needed to find the correct materials. That, or the system is being a prick and railroading me into "earning" my reward. "What's that? Number four?"

"Yeah, only one more to go.", Elora reassured, "It blows that this has to drag on for so long. At least now you know why I insisted to help."

"You can't even help."

"Well -- obviously, but it's better to have someone to talk to while you meander for hours in search of weeds. And again, to make sure you don't die."

He gave a stifled sigh before saying, "Thanks for looking out for me. It's gotta be a total chore for experienced players to play chaperone."