[PP-F01] The First Few Lessons for the Weak

[Bael 1]

The plains stretched endlessly before them, an ocean of green swaying beneath the pale afternoon light. Far beyond, the floating fragments of land drifted lazily across the sky, their shadows cutting dark shapes over the grass. It was a peaceful sight, deceptively so.

Bael moved at the head of the group, his hood drawn low, the long poncho swaying with each measured step. The cloth concealed most of his frame, save for the faint metallic glint of the greataxe strapped across his back, a massive, single-edged weapon whose broad glade gleamed like a threat half-spoken. The six players trailing him took comfort in his calm stride, mistaking composure for safety.

"Are you sure this path leads to better spawns?" asked Aliwyvern, the self-appointed second-in-command. His rapier dangled loosely at his side, its tip occasionally brushing the tall grass.

Bael didn't turn. "Trust me," he said evenly. "The outer herds gather near the ridges. You'll gain levels faster there."

Bbunnie, the party's healer, let out a relived laugh. "Finally! I'm almost out of potions. Please tell me these things drop something decent."

"You'll have your share," Bael replied. His tone carried warmth to sound convincing.

They had met by chance outside the Town of Beginnings, or so they believed. Six eager faces, all low-leveled and desperate for guidance. Bael had offered advice, direction, and just enough charisma to pull them into his orbit. It hadn't taken long for them to follow his lead. Hope was a powerful leash.

Ahead, the ground sloped gently toward a widen stretch of open grass. A pond shimmered at its center, reflecting shards of sunlight. Nearby, a small pack of Forest Boars grazed their tusks dull, their movements lazy and predictable. Perfect targets for new players.

"There they are," Bael said, stopping at the crest of the ridge. "Six of you, six of them. Keep tight formation and don't scatter. The moment you panic, you die."

Axon stepped forward, straight sword drawn, shield lifted high. Erickk and FinnLin followed, blades catching the light as they took flanking positions. Meryan and Bbunnie readied their bows, while Aliwyvern twirled his rapier with eager precision.

"Let's do this right," Axon barked, and they surged forward.

The clash broke the calm, grunts, shouts, and the low thunder of hooves tearing through grass. Arrows whistled. Steel rang. Bael watched from the ridge, motionless beneath his hood, the wind tugging gently at his poncho.

They fought better than he expected. The tank held firm, blades cut true, and the archers coordinated their volleys. They bled, staggered, recovered. For a brief moment, Bael almost admired their effort. Almost.

When the last boar fell, the plains fell silent again. The group's cheers filled the emptiness, pure, breathless relief.

Bael's hand found the haft of his greataxe.

"You did well," he said softly. His tone was calm, but his words fell like the first chill of dusk.

Then, almost kindly, he added, "Now for your next lesson."

* * *

Spoiler

Level 1:
HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 6

WC: 492

[Arsine 0]

Quest Objective: Roleplay interacting with Zackariah.
POST ACTION: Eat the Fondue +3 LD

 

She had never bothered with these 'quests' before...

Why should she? Arsine wasn't planning on fighting, on leveling up, on rallying the troops to get out of this place. That wasn't her problem, that was the problem of the doctors and scientists out there, in the real world. Here, she was trapped and so she may as well enjoy it. But lately, all those late nights, decadent foods...it just seemed...boring.

So after asking around she found out about the starter quests, something bout first few lessons? She'd try it, if not just to tick it off a list. After all, she had nothing better to do right now. She had already spoken to some no name NPC - (It was Dorian, Arsine simply did not care to learn it) He mentioned something about giving out money, and forgetting who it was. The woman thought it a tad silly. But it seemed about right, fetch quests and all that.

So she now stood in Zackariahs store, arms crossed, a bored look on her face.

 "Are you here to order something? I’m sorry, but I am currently swamped with orders, and I’m running out of supplies.”Zackariah said from over the counter, he then brightened up, begging the woman to gather materials. Flowers..Herbs.... At this, Arsines ears perked up. This she could do.

"I can do this for you, yes."

In his thanks Zackariah hands her a pot of fondue, and without thinking much of it, the woman consumes it. "Bland." She muttered, dropping the empty bowl to the counter. 

WIth that, Arsine walked out of the store.

 

Now in the fields the woman was crouched down, she could hear the sounds of battle in the distance, players fighting boars. A glance up at the rowdy group of people, and a small nod to anyone who would see her. Arsine wasn't trying to hide after all. She held tight to her basket, checking the base of the tree for any mushrooms.

"Death Cap would be fun, no?" She asked herself.

WC:337

Arsine | HP: 320/320 | EN: 50/50 | DMG: 8 | LD +3  True Tier 2 

Spoiler

 

"Name: Arsine
True Tier: 2
Level: 16
Paragon Level: 0
HP: 320/320
EN: 50/50

Stats:
Damage: 8

Equipped Gear:
Weapon/Armor/Trinket: 
  - 
Armor/Trinket: 
  - 
Shield/Armor/Trinket: 
  - 

Combat Mastery:
  - 

Combat Shift:
  - 

Familiar Skill:
  - 

Custom Skill:
  - 

Skills:
  - Claws R5

Extra Skills:

Inactive Extra Skills:

Addons:

Mods:

Inactive Mods:

Battle Ready Inventory:

Housing Buffs:

Guild Hall Buffs:

Scents of the Wild Totem:

Wedding Ring:

Crafting Profession:

Gathering Profession:
"           

 

                                                                                                                

                   

Edited 2 hours ago by Arsine

[Bael 1]

Their cheers echoed faintly across the plains, carried by the wind like a song already forgotten. Axon's voice rose above the rest, triumphant, "That's how you do it! We're getting the hang of this!"

FinnLin laughed, bending over his blade to wipe away the last traces of pixelated boar's blood. "Man, I actually thought we were dead back there."

"Not with Bael leading us," Meryan said, smiling up the ridge. "You called that one perfectly. Thanks for watching our backs."

Bael didn't answer immediately. The breeze pulled at his hood, rustling the hem of his poncho. His hand rested on the haft of the greataxe strapped across his back, not gripping, merely touching. The way one might touch a familiar companion before a conversation begins.

He descended the ridge, slow and measured. The others turned, still catching their breath, sweat glistening along their brows from the effort of the fight.

"Good work," Bael said, his tone even. "You adapted quickly."

Aliwyvern grinned, sheathing his rapier. "Guess we're not so hopeless after all."

"No," Bael replied, stopping a few paces short of them. "Not hopeless. Just.. untested."

Axon frowned, tilting his head. "Untested? What's that supposed to mean?"

Bael reached back, fingers curling around the greataxe. The weapon came free with a low, metallic whisper. Its edge caught the afternoon light, a cold shimmer against the golden grass.

"Lesson one," he said quietly, "Never turn your back to what you don't understand."

Meryan's bow lowered, confusion flickering into unease. "Bael.. what are yo-"

The greataxe moved.

It wasn't a wild swing, it was clean practiced. The ground split where the blade struck, sending a shock through the earth. Grass and dirt erupted in a burst as the players stumbled back.

"Whoa, woah! Are you serious!?" Erickk shouted, sword flying to his hand.

"Get ready!" Axon barked, shield snapping up instinctively.

Bbunnie's voice cracked, "He's gone mad! He's attacking us!"

Bael's hood shifted slightly as he tilted his head, studying them. There was no fury in his eyes, only curiosity, and something colder. "No," he said softly. "You're just finally seeing what you should've known all along."

He lifted the greataxe again, it's massive blade humming through the air. "This world doesn't need heroes. Only survivors."

The archers took aim. The tank braced. FinnLin stepped forward, teeth clenched. "Then we'll survive you."

Bael smiled faintly, lowering his stance. "Good."

He moved.

The clash of steel shattered the quiet once more.

* * *

WC: 408

[Arsine 0]

The groups cheers continued, and Although the woman wasn't involved, she was close enough for her to hear them. The taller hooded figure, Bael had lead them to fight a group of boars, they cheered. Is that something worth celebrating? She didn't quite think so, but - to each their own. Much like the woman would not celebrate the slaying of a few mangy boars - they would not celebrate nor find joy in the simplicity of foraging. Creating something from nothing. Arsine's pace was slow, languid. She was in no rush.

The woman straightened, standing tall amidst the grass, barely obscured by a nearby tree. Green eyes watched as a fight broke out - their leader taking the charge in 'testing' his comrades.

"Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer...." Arsine whispered to herself. The players had turned on each other. Not her clowns, not her circus. She was smart enough to not get involved. To keep to her own task at hand. Although, to be safe - she pulled out a single teleportation crystal. The fields weren't too far from the town, so she had options

"He's gone mad! He's attacking us!"

She could run if the cloaked figure - what was his name? Bael. if Bael approached her, but if she weren't fast enough then a crystal would do just fine. If the man were attacking other players his crystal would become orange - and he'd be barred from safely entering the town.

It baffled her, why they fought. Why not just leave?

"So noisy." She turned, shifting to forage further in the forest. It would be best to not get involved in any of that. 

"WAIT! YOU!"

Arsine paused, a glance over her shoulder, one of the players had spotted her. 

"HELP! PLEASE HELP US!"

"Am not healer." She simply tossed her teleport crystal toward them. "Sorry. I am not a fighter.  I wish you best." Arsine turned away from the fight, pulling her last crystal out of her inventory and holding it in her hand, prepared to use it if need be. She didn't understand why they did not do the same. Picking fights they could not win. For what? To what end? Glory? Bragging rights?

It made no sense.

WC: 369

[Bael 1]

Bael's black eyes followed the glint of the crystal as it tumbled through the grass, catching the light like a tiny, mocking sun. The players froze for a heartbeat, uncertain whether it was a trap or a blessing. Then, almost predictably, Aliwyvern lunged forward, rapier drawn, desperation and hope flickering across his face.

"Wait, don't!" Meryan shouted, loosing a shortbow arrow, but it sailed wide, harmless. Bbunnie's hands trembled on her bowstring as she muttered a barely audible, "He's crazy.."

Aliwyvern's boots crunched against the dry grass as he snatched the crystal triumphantly. Relief painted his features in stark contrast to the terror beginning to ripple through the others. He spun slightly, intending to run back toward the party, unaware that his moment of confidence had painted a target on him.

Bael descended the ridge, each step deliberate, controlled, the edges of his poncho brushing the tall grass. The greataxe rested lightly across his shoulder, almost casual, yet the sheer size of it spoke of overwhelming force. "Careful," he said, his voice low, flat, almost conversational. "Not everything that glitters is safe to hold."

Aliwyvern froze mid-step. His crimson eyes widened as the truth of the warning hit him, too late. Bael swung the greataxe in a single, precise motion. It cut through the air and the small defenses Aliwyvern had hastily raised, striking with an almost surgical finality. The rapier clattered to the grass as Aliwyvern's body crumpled, shock and disbelief frozen across his face.

The remaining players recoiled in horror. Bbunnie staggered back, shortbow shaking in her grip. Axon's shield rattled as he tried to block the wind from the strike, but no barrier could stop it. FinnLin and Erickk's blade wavered in their hands as panic flared. The sudden realization that their companion was dead, and gone so fast, was enough to paralyze them.

Bael straightened, greataxe resting against his shoulder, hood shadowing his black eyes. His voice was calm, detached, almost teacher-like. "Lesson one: greed and haste are enemies. Always."

From a distance, Arsine watched silently, crystal in hand, green eyes narrowing in cautious observation. Her stance remained relaxed, but the subtle tightening of her grip on the crystal betrayed her awareness of Bael's danger. He could have turned his attention to her at any moment, but for now, she remained a silent witness to the carnage.

The plains, once peaceful beneath the sun, now seemed smaller, constricted, as though the earth itself had tightened around the remaining players. Bael's presence was oppressive yet eerily controlled, a shadow moving among the grass, the black eyes of a predator appraising every quiver, every breath, every hesitation. The game was no longer about monsters. It was about survival.

* * *

Spoiler

Aliwyvern etched onto the Monument of Life.

WC: 450

[Arsine 0]

Post action: Gathering Attempt LD15+ To Succeed
ID: 256915 LD: 9 + 3 =12 FAIL

Arsine's eyes locked with the hooded figure for but a mere moment. Neither moved. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, couldn't even see a face. Instead of running, and creating a bigger mess she simply rose her shoulders in a shrug and turned her back on the man, shifting away from the fight. Perhaps that would be enough to show him she was not a threat, would not get involved any further than she already had. Maybe she shouldn't have thrown the crystal their way, a single one would not save them all. It'd only cause more chaos, no? Unless they worked together, but it seemed the group was well beyond that. A glimmer of hope amidst a sea of turmoil, may just be crueler than none at all. But Arsine strongly believed that death here, did not mean death outside. How could it? The entire concept was simply absurd. Perhaps that's why she was less than moved by the screams that continued behind her, the strike of steel against steel, and the cries of anguish. It was all just so noisy.

Now well enough away from the group, she shifted her attention to the ground, near a tree she saw something. "Is death cap!" A small shout of glee as she knelt down. The woman was careful in plucking it from the ground, practiced. Delicate. To make haste was to make waste, and yet ... despite the delicate care she had the thing disintegrated between her fingers. Her smile faded as she sighed, standing. "Is why I dislike mechanics of the game..." she muttered to herself. If she weren't gathering for a quest- the precious fungi would have been hers.

WC: 281

Edited 6 hours ago by Arsine

[Bael 1]

The screams cut through the plains, sharp and raw. Axon's voice rang above the rest, desperate, trembling. "Aliwyvern! No! Stay with me!" His shield raised instinctively, hands shaking, sword poised, but skill alone could not undo the inevitability Bael brought.

Bael's black eyes scanned the group with detached precision. Every instinct, every flinch, every hesitation was noted. He didn't speak; he didn't need to. He simply moved, greataxe swinging in a single, overwhelming arc that shattered the ground and sent Axon stumbing backward.

FinnLin adn Erickk surged together, blades raised with coordinated hope. They struck, angles calculated, but Bael was already where they thought he wasn't. The greataxe met their efforts with forceful blocks and crushing steps, pushing them apart, staggering them, showing with brutal clarity the futility of their defiance. Each swing of the massive weapon forced them back a step, then another, and their confidence cracked with every clang.

"Impossible!" Erickk shouted, stepping back, blood streaking his forearm where Bael's swing grazed him. FinnLin's knees buckled, long sword trembling in his grip as he tried to hold a line with his friend.

Meryan froze mid-draw, bowstring taut, green eyes wide with disbelief. Bbunnie, behind her, clenched her teeth and whsipered an apology, duckign behind a patch of high grass. "I'm sorry.. I can't help," she murmured, before sprinting away from the chaos, teleportation crystal ready in her hand.

Bael turned just slightly, noting the fleeing archer. His voice carried, calm and deliberate, cutting through the panic. "Run, if you wish. Some lessons are learned through survival, others through failure."

Axon cried out again, attempting to rally the group. "Stay together! Don't let hi-"

But the words never landed, Bael's greataxe swung again, narrowly missing Axon's shoulder as the tank dove backward. FinnLin and Erickk attempted another coordinated strike, blades meeting with a clang against the immense edge of the weapon. The force sent both staggering. Every step, every swing, every block, Bael was untouchable, slow, deliberate, overwhelming.

The plains echoed with the chaos of a dozen desperate movements: cries, metal against metal, the stamp of boots on grass, and the faint shuffle of Bbunnie's retreat. Bael didn't pursue her. Not yet. The lesson here was already in motion.

He paused for a heartbeat, greataxe resting across his shoulder, black eyes sweeping the group. "Fear is not your enemy," he said quietly. "Complacency is. And you.. You were all far too comfortable."

Every player still on the field felt it, the oppressive weight of inevitability pressing down, and the sense that their survival had already been measured.. and found lacking.

* * *

WC: 431

[Arsine 0]

Post action: Gathering Attempt LD15+ To Succeed
ID: 256916 LD: 9 + 3 = 14 FAIL

Another mushroom was plucked from the earth, only to disintegrate in the woman's hands. Wasn't she supposed to find three of those things for the NPC? She supposed she may just come back empty handed if this continued. Not that she would care. Zackariah himself seemed to not mind if she wasn't able to complete the task. The woman wondered if she should invest in the gathering profession. Many were doing that these days, no? And she hadn't really planned on becoming much of a fighter. Gathering would suit her.

Arsine turned to look elsewhere but a small pink haired woman bumped into her, she was trembling, crying. One hand clutched Arsine's clothing in desperation, tugging her toward the battle. "P-Please..." She begged, tugging on Arsines clothes with more force, causing the woman to step forward once. "H-H-He....I...my friends..." Arsine put a hand on the small womans shoulder and pushed her away. "Calm. Cannot understand when you talk like that." English was not her first language, and even with the aid of Aincrads translation system the woman struggled to understand the incoherent sobs.

BBunnie sniffed, and pointed behind her. "M-My friends! They're being attacked you gotta help them! please!"

"And why am I helping, and not you?" Arsine asked. She didn't mean to sound callous, she simply just did not feel the same urgency the other player had. Did not like the hypocrisy. Arsine then pointed at the womans bow. "You have weapon. Were you not celebrating your victory over boars earlier? I am not fighter. If you run, so be it. But do not expect others to fight in your place."

BBunnie didn't seem to like that answer, tiny pink brows furrowed at Arsine, and she shouted at her, angry, hurt and scared. "You'd just let them DIE?" she screamed. And the irony was not lost on Arsine. The woman had done just that, but she also understood the fear. So didn't point it out. Instead  Arsine waved the woman off with a gesture of her hand. "Go Malyshonok. To safety of town. Tell guards, tell those stronger than me."

WC: 351

Edited 6 hours ago by Arsine

[Bael 1]

Bbunnie stumbled backward, face white, breath coming in quick, shaky pulls as she dashed away through the grass. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she cried, voice breaking until it was only a frightened sob swallowed by distance. She didn't look back as she fumbled for her crystal and sprinted toward the town's horizon, the tiny globe of light in her hand flaring orange with every step until it blinked out of sight.

The field narrowed to the five left in its wake: Axon, shield clutched like a talisman; Erickk, blade trembling; Meryan, bow slack in her hands; FinnLin, keeping himself between the archer and danger; and Bael, a dark, hooded silhouette whose black eyes were the only visible thing beneath his hood.

"Don't, don't run!" Axon bellowed, try to rally them. "Stand, stand together!" His voice cracked, raw with panic and something that smelled like hope.

FinnLin moved without a word. He planted his feet, long sword raised as if the weight of it could steady more than his hands. "Get back," he said to Meryan in a horse whisper. "I'll hold him." There was no bravado, only a young man doing the one thing he could think to do: protect someone smaller than himself.

Bael watched the motion as one would watch a predictable mechanism click into place. He stepped forward two paces and spoke so softly the words barely left his lisp. "Narratives of heroism are quaint." He tilted the greataxe, testing its balance, like a scholar weighing a specimen.

FinnLin's answer was a shaky glare. "We defend one another. We don't run from monsters, especially ones who pretend to be guides."

The smile that crossed Bael's face was almost imperceptible under the hood. "Brave. Foolish. Necessary." Then he moved.

It wasn't a battle; it was an execution. The greataxe descended in a single, immense arc, no flourish, no wasted motion. The force collapsed the air between them. FinnLin's sword met the edge and splintered like a twig. The long sword was knocked from his grasp by the shove of impact. He tried to step back. He didn't make it.

The moment the greataxe landed, the world fractured into pixels and light, the unmistable dissolution that marked an avatar's death in Aincrad. FinnLin's form blinked, a few final shimmered frames of disbelief, then disintegrated. Silence snapped into a new, harder scream.

"FinnLin!" Erickk shouted, lunging forward in a blind, useless charge. Axon howled, shield raised, movement powered by fury rather than sense. They struck at where Bael had just been, metal ringing against air and the faint echo of a place already emptied.

Meryan sank to her knees, bow dropping to her lap. Tear blurred the plains into smears of green and gold. Bbunnie's cry could be heard like a distant thing, apologies torn from her throat as she ran.

Bael took no pleasure in the noise, he listened to it as a man listens to an experiment conclude. He set the greataxe against his shoulder and looked, briefly, toward Arsine's distant figure, already half-bent over another fungus, indifferent and small against the horizon.

"Lesson," he said, voice flat, "Is best taught with certainty." He turned back to the remnants, black eyes like pits in the shade. "Run, plead, bargain, whatever you choose, choose quickly. The world does not wait for courage to learn its price."

* * *

WC: 557

[Arsine 0]

Post action: Gathering Attempt LD15+ To Succeed
ID: 256917  LD:15+ 3 = SUCCESS
+1 Material.

 

This wasn't a death cap mushroom, no, this was a regular King Oyster - but maybe that's why when she picked it up, it transformed into a material - it wasn't poisonous, nor dangerous. Arsine twirled the tiny gem in her hand before lifting it up to the light. "Is pretty." She said softly, watching the light bounce and reflect off of its surface, scattering across her face. She could see why such things were a hot commodity within Aincrad. Such a tiny little thing, and yet it was the basis for everything in the digital world. If she were the working type, Arsine would collect many of these, thousands perhaps - and live in the lap of luxury as she held the majority of stock within the game.

But she was not.

Just the thought tired her. 

The notification popped up in front of her <<Return to Zackariah.>> 

"Oh."

The woman dismissed the message with a flick of her wrist. She supposed she didn't have to keep searching then. But if she returned to the town now, she'd need to deal with that pink haired girl. She could still hear the screams and sobs in the distance. Although behind her, the sound of violence and fighting seemed to have ceased. An eerie quiet fell upon the forest. No birds, no sounds of nature, not even the scurry of player. Pausing, Arsine turned to glance toward the field. Had this Bael person killed the others? Or was the silence some sort of stand-off. 

Curiosity urged her toward the fight, but logic kept her feet firmly planted on the ground.

"Am not a fool." She told herself as she shifted to return to the village.

WC: 281

Edited 5 hours ago by Arsine

[Bael 1]

The plains had grown eerily still, the echoes of battle replaced by the faint, digital hum of a dying field. The grass shifted gently around them, whispering against armor slick with pixelated dust. The sun hung low, bleeding amber across the horizon, a sunset made for funerals.

Axon and Erickk stood shoulder to shoulder, breathing hard, their weapons trembling under the weight of fear. Behind them, Meryan's shortbow wavered uselessly in her hands. Her eyes darted between Bael's hooded silhouette and the dissolving remains of her fallen comrades. Somewhere in the distance, the faint cries of Bbunnie carried on the wind, fleeing, desperate.

Bael's head turned slightly toward the sound. Running never saved anyone.

He faced the men again. "You should have stayed in the safe zone." His voice carried no anger, only calm inevitability.

Axon gritted his teeth. "Shut up!" He raised his shield and charged, desperation overtaking strategy. Erickk followed, blade low, trying to flank.

Bael stepped forward, one pace, measured, deliberate. The greataxe rose and came down in a single, thunderous arc. The strike cleaved through Erickk's parry as if it were mist. The man froze mid-motion, eyes wide, before his form fractured into crimson light. His scream cut short as his data scattered into the wind.

"Erickk!" Axon bellowed, lunging again, his sword sparking as it met Bael's weapon. The two collided, raw emotion against mechanical precision. Bael's movements were smooth, minimal; he wasted nothing. Every deflection, every step, every shift of weight spoke of a mind detached from the chaos it created.

Meryan screamed something unintelligible, an arrow loosed from trembling fingers. It missed, grazing Bael's hood. The black eyes beneath shifted to her, and in that glance, she felt the temperature drop.

"Run!" Axon barked, blocking another swing. "Get out of here, Meryan! Run!"

But Bael was already moving. The greataxe spun outward in a sweeping arc, forcing Axon back and clearing a line straight toward the archer. The woman stumbled, tried to retreat, but Bael's stride was too long, too sure. His weapon cut through the space between them, stopping just shy of her neck.

"Do you love them?" he asked softly. "The one who ran?"

Meryan couldn't answer, only cry.

"Call her back," he said. The tone wasn't cruel. It was instructional. "Call her, or I end you first."

Through choked sobs, she shouted Bbunnie's name. The sound carried, desperate and sharp. For a moment, nothing. Then, faintly, movement. Bbunnie turned back, visible between the waving grass, guilt and panic warring in her steps as she ran toward the sound.

Bael waited.

When Bbunnie broke into the clearing, he stepped aside and let Meryan reach for her. Their hands nearly met, nearly. The greataxe moved once. A blur.

Both women froze.

Pixels rose like ash.Far off, Arsine paused mid-step. The soft orange glow beneath Bael's hood flickered across the plains, a distant, silent brand of what he had become.

* * *

WC: 487

[Arsine 0]

A man approached, caring not for stealth. Sticks broke beneath broad and heavy steps.

Arsine straightened her back. Seeing his cursor. "I see you are the reason it is silent." She would not fold to this hooded man, one who refused to let the world see him for what he truly was, hiding behind a cowl of darkness. It did not impress Arsine, nor did it truly instill fear within her.  The woman kept her distance, noting the axe he carried upon his shoulder. His attacks would be devastating, but broad - if he tried to strike her she simply had to move closer toward him. She flexed her free hand, golden claws clanking lightly against each other. Despite there being no real fear, there was still a heaviness in the air. The man commanded attention. She had to give him that. His presence was stifling. "Bael, yes?" She asked with a tilt of her head, her jewelry catching the dappled light of the sun. 

He didn't respond, not straight away. So Arsine continued. "Am Arsine, pleasure." A small nod of her head in introduction. Normally she'd extend her hand with a warm smile, but this situation did not call for such pleasantries. 

"I care not for being involved in your dalliances. Do please keep out of mine." The more she spoke, the clearer her Russian accent became, and more notably, that English was not her first language, the mannerisms in which she spoke, the lack of contractions...

Arsine didn't know this man beyond his name, and that he now wore the monkier of a Pker. She was sure that if she were to check the monument of life, several names would be etched on there due to his actions today but the woman was just as certain that hers would remain off of it. Perhaps that confidence was her own hubris. Because it was the reason Arsine turned her back on the man, almost outrightly ignoring him as she shifted to move back to the town to complete her quest. 

WC: 340

 

[Bael 1]

Before Bael could open his mouth to answer, a roar shattered the forest's hush, raw, angry, and desperate. Axon. The man refused to die quietly.

Bael turned his head slightly, the edge of his hood shifting just enough to catch sight of the fool charging through the clearing, sword raised high, the sun glinting off the blade like a dying flame. He let the sight linger, the struggle, the futile hope, before finally stepping forward, his axe scraping against the air with a low metallic growl.

The clash was brief and brutal. Bael met Axon's charge with one effortless swing, their weapons colliding with a shriek that echoed through the trees. Axon's blade splintered. His body followed. A single follow-up strike carved through his torso, and the man dissolved into a cloud of fading pixels, his final gasp devoured by silence.

Bael didn't even glance toward the spot where the man had fallen. He exhaled slowly, lowering his weapon until its blunt end rested against the soil. "Pathetic."

Then his gaze shifted back to Arsine.

She hadn't flinched. Not once. Her golden claws glimmered faintly, her posture still proud, cautious perhaps, but not frightened. That alone earned his curiosity.

Bael stepped closer, boots crunching against stray fragments of digital bark. The shadow of his hood darkened his face, but his grin was audible, a slow, lazy stretch of interest rather than amusement. He crouched down, one hand resting on his knee, the other loosely gripping his axe handle.

"You don't seem to be afraid," he said softly, voice thick with the rumble of unspent violence. His eyes traced the gold of her claws. "Digging through dirt when you should be using those claws to dig into these.. weaklings."

A pause followed. His tone wasn't mocking, more like an observation, a test.

He tilted his head, studying her with cold curiosity. "You know the kind of silence that follows after slaughter?" he asked, gesturing toward the clearing. "Most run from it. But you.. you linger."

Bael's grin widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "So tell me, Arsine, are you just brave?" His tone darkened. "Or are you simply waiting for your turn?"

The air around them grew heavy again, not violent yet, but suffocating with potential. Bael didn't move. He was staying.

* * *

WC: 382

[Arsine 0]

He stepped forward, and Arsine stepped back, slightly to the side to avoid trapping herself between Bael and the tree, very aware of her surroundings. He asked her, no... stated that she didn't seem to be afraid. Arsine kept her gaze on him, unflinching. Was she afraid? She wasn't sure. "I feel something." She admitted quietly. "Do not know the word for it....Ne budi likho, poka ono tikho? Not waking no sleeping beast." In other words, don't cause trouble. Don't make a scene. "Not enough to run. Enough to be wary." That seemed like a good answer. Despite Arsine being tall herself, the man still stood taller at his full height.

Instead of towering over her, he knelt down - shrouded face seemingly interested in her weapon. The woman splayed out her hand, allowing him to see. "I have no interest in that." She didn't see the joy, the point in cutting down players, causing chaos - why would she kill when she could enjoy a night beneath someone instead? "My interest lies in Toxicology. Not murder." With a sleight of hand the woman would pull a sprig of nightshade from her inventory. "Belladona, for the ubiytsa - Nightshade." She'd toss it toward him.

"The berries, poisonous, but the stem - used in medicene." A tilt of her head and a small smile. "That is what interests me, little paslen."

 "-Tell me, Arsine, are you just brave? Or are you simply waiting for your turn?"

She took another step back at his words. "I may not believe in the finality of death here, but I do not seek it, paslen." She had to calculate...would she survive a single attack? It was likely, the woman had leveled up considerably despite not doing any quests. His axe looked old, worn. So he was either sentimental, prayed upon weaker players, or - worst case scenario was strong enough to not need the higher tiered weapons. 

"We leave each other be, yes?"

Another cautious step back.

WC: 327

[Bael 1]

Bael caught the sprig mid-air. The moment his gloved fingers closed around it, the plant shimmered faintly before settling into his palm, an item notification flickering at the corner of his vision. Belladonna.

He turned the stem slowly between his fingers, inspecting it as though it were some strange offering. "Poison," he murmured, tone low and reflective. "A pretty name for something that kills slow."

His hood tilted slightly toward her, the faintest curve of a smile beneath the shadow. "You'd rather watch them suffer quietly than end them cleanly?"

The question wasn’t accusatory, more curious, probing. The kind of curiosity that came from someone who dissected people not with scalpels, but through words and silence.

He rose to his full height again, towering over her once more, but not closing the distance. His presence filled the space between them like smoke, heavy and lingering. "You think I enjoy it?" he asked, voice calm, deliberate. "Slaughter?"

The silence that followed made it unclear whether he was asking her or himself.

After a long pause, he flicked the stem of the nightshade aside, letting it vanish into the grass. "People talk about chaos as if it’s something you start. But chaos…" He glanced at the clearing, the fragments of light still fading where Axon once stood. "..it’s what’s left when everything else stops pretending to matter."

He stepped closer again, slow enough that she could move if she wished, deliberate enough that she would feel his attention sharpen like a blade’s edge.

"Still," he said, voice lowering, "You're right not to run." His hand lifted, not in threat, but in a subtle motion of dismissal. "I've no quarrel with you. Yet."

He turned his head slightly toward the treeline, the direction of the village she meant to return to. "You'll go back, finish your little errand, turn in your shiny mushrooms to your friend Zackariah." His tone carried faint mockery, not cruel, but weary. "You'll think you've escaped the beast by leaving quietly."

His eyes, black and empty, caught hers beneath the hood’s shadow. "But remember this, Arsine, you called it by name when you spoke it aloud."

He took a single step back, the axe sliding off his shoulder. "Don't wake it twice."

* * *

WC: 373

[Arsine 0]

Quest objective: Return to Zackariah with the materials.

 

"You'd rather watch them suffer quietly than end them cleanly?"

"Bold of you, Bael." Arsine said, a hint of frustration in her tone. At no point did she mention she enjoyed the suffering of others. "You do not know me." She threw his own words back in his face. "You think I enjoy it, quiet suffering?" She shook her head dismissively. Denying the thought. She did not. Her interest lay in the chemicals, toxins, reactions - but not suffering. Perhaps, she had been too quick to judge him too. Arsine did assume much the same of him. "I assume. I apologize." She said quietly, shifting her gaze away from him for the first time. Feeling a little guilty at accusing him of such. Granted she never outright said the words, but she had very heavily implied them and it was clear he caught that implication.

Arsine blinked, listening to his words. Translating them, trying to understand them, she followed his gaze to the clearing. "Chaos comes from complacency?" She asked. It made sense, when people stopped caring about things, that apathy - that is what caused dysfunction in society. Arsine supposed she was rather guilty of that. "Colour me guilty, palsen."  Bael stepped closer and this time Arsine did not step away. She caught the scent of fresh steel, the kind of scent you'd find from a newly sharpened blade- and wet. She couldn't quite place it, but it reminded her of a storm. Odd. She caught the way his shoulders tensed. Coiling muscles as though he wanted to strike, but there was a stillness.

"I care not for the trials of this world. A good drink, a good lay - decadent food. Is all I seek. Not suffering."

Arsine turned away from him, his mocking words a grace for her to leave and the woman was smart enough to not linger further. "Is shame - the beast cannot tread safely in the town." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "I know best, not wake the beast again, Bael. Goodbye. May you find what brings you satisfaction."

The walk back to town was slow, almost leisurely. Arsine didn't look back, but she didn't run either. It wasn't till she set foot into the town that she exhaled, realizing that she and been tense. "Oy..." She muttered, rubbing her shoulder and rolling it back. "Need a massage after today."

She headed to Zackariahs, returning with but a single material gem which she tossed carelessly across the table. He sighed in disappointment, pulling the glasses from his face and rubbing his old and weary face.

"Leave it to Dorian to forget something so important. No, I'm afraid it wasn't me that borrowed the col. You might try Lyle, the blacksmith. I've seen him talking with the mayor frequently the past month or so, and he's just up the road. I wish you luck!"

Arsine stared at the man blankly...

This...wasn't over yet?

No, Arsine would do the rest after, her first priority was getting something good to eat.


-Arsine completed Part: 1-

WC: 511

Edited 3 hours ago by Arsine

[Bael 1]

The quiet between them was long enough for the wind to stir the grass. Bael's hand rested loosely against the haft of his axe, the metal catching what little light still pierced the clouds. Her defiance didn’t draw anger from him, it drew stillness. That, more than rage, was the danger of him.

"You misunderstand me, Arsine," he said finally, voice low, a grind of gravel beneath calm waters. "I do not enjoy their suffering." His head tilted slightly, black eyes unreadable beneath the hood. "I only strip away the lie that there was ever safety here."

He followed her gaze toward the plains, where digital dust still lingered in the air. "They believed they could live quietly. Hunt, eat, laugh. Pretend this place was a game." His fingers tightened around the axe. "But quiet breeds rot. I gave them truth."

When she admitted her own guilt, apathy, indulgence, something faint flickered at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile, exactly. A fracture in the mask. "Then you understand more than most."

Bael took a single step closer, boots crushing the soft earth. The faint scent of rain and iron thickened between them. "Decadence. Comfort. You think those things make you free? They make you slow. They make you blind." He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering to a whisper that carried a hint of menace, but also curiosity. "But perhaps not you, Arsine. You.. look back at the beast instead of running from it."

Her parting words, mocking him, warning him, drew a quiet sound from his chest. Not laughter, but something that could have been.

"The beast treads where it pleases," Bael murmured, the edge of his hood glinting faintly in the fading light. "Even when the town gates close."

He didn't follow her. He didn't need to. Watching her silhouette fade into the distance was enough. The tension in his shoulders eased, and for the first time since the screams had died, Bael exhaled.

He turned back toward the field, where the scattered drops of light from fallen players still shimmered weakly before fading into nothing. "Complacency," he echoed under his breath, almost as if the word itself lingered in his mouth like a prayer. "It spreads like a sickness."

The axe swung once through the air, a single, practiced motion before resting across his shoulder again. His hood shifted in the breeze as he began to walk, not toward the town, but deeper into the plains, where the wind carried no sound, and no one dared to celebrate.

* * *

WC: 422

[Arsine 0]

Quest Objective: Roleplay interacting with Lyle Tealeaf 

The next day...

Arsine entered the blacksmith, and the clang of metal on metal, and the scent somehow reminded her of Bael. A man she met the day before. Much like Zackariah, this man was old. But he took one glance at Arsine and turned away in disgust. She crossed her arms, feeling frustrated.

"Is this how quests are?" She muttered to herself, then a shake of her head as she went to talk to him, explain that he, or someone at least owed someone money. But he snapped back at her. Stating he would not do anything without payment. Battle?

Arsine...had to battle? She..wasn't too keen on that. Her whole schtick was avoiding it. Still, the man threw her another set of claws, these ones had stats on it, that the woman wouldn't normally have. "Fine.." She muttered. Placing these ones, silver in colour over her left hand. He also threw her a bag of Truffles that had been laced with something to send the boars to sleep. Arsine picked up the bag, wondering if it'd affect people too.

The woman was a little more disheveled than yesterday, she hadn't slept well, hadn't eaten well. And now she had to venture back out of the safe zone, to fight boars of all things. She had to wonder, was this the part of the quest the other players had gotten to, is that why they died to Bael?

Were they too complacent as he stated, or simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Arsine found herself in the fields once more; the same as yesterday. Quiet, peaceful. One would never know the carnage that occurred but a day before.

 

WC: 281

Arsine receives:

• T1 Perfect [Weapon of Choice] | ACC 2 | DMG 1
• Bag of Tranquilizer Truffles (puts a boarlet to sleep on BD 5+, requires a post action to attempt using)

 

 

[Bael 1]

The plains stretched wide beneath the pale morning light, untouched, calm, and yet somehow hollow. Bael sat upon the ridge, greataxe leaning against his shoulder, hood pulled low, eyes closed. The faint wind tugged at his poncho, the coarse fabric brushing against the metal of his weapon. He inhaled slowly, tasting the air, dry grass, distant earth, and the faint copper tang of iron that lingered like a memory.

In the distance, the squeal of many Boars carried over the grasslands. Their movements were predictable, lazy. His pulse tightened at the sound, an anger that had nothing to do with hunger or survival. It was the emptiness of the world itself that irritated him. The lack of challenge. The absence of prey. The void left by absence.

Bael's hand brushed the haft of his greataxe. The metal hummed faintly under his fingers, a subtle resonance that mirrored the beat of his heart. No players. No chaos. No noise. The thought alone made the ridge feel too quiet, suffocating even, as if the plains themselves were holding their breath in fear of what could come.

He opened his eyes slowly, black, unreadable, still beneath the hood, and let them wander across the swaying grass. A flock of birds took to the sky, startled by a passing breeze. He watched without thought, without interest. Not yet.

The anger surged again, low and coiling, like a storm building behind the horizon. The satisfaction of yesterday, of the screams, of the trembling faces, had already faded. Only the pulse of anticipation remained, the knowledge that life, chaos, and fear were waiting somewhere just beyond the ridge.

Bael exhaled, a sharp, quiet sound that scattered dust across the ridge. He leaned back, letting his weight settle against the earth. The world is empty without it.

Even as he sat, he could feel the subtle threads of disturbance in the plains, small ripples in the calm. It wouldn’t be long. Someone would venture out again. Someone would think themselves safe, alone, untested. And when they did, he would be ready. Patient. Lurking.

The squeal of a boar echoed again, nearer this time. Bael's fingers tightened around the haft of his greataxe. His lips curved, just barely, and the hood shadowed it all. Soon, he thought. The plains will scream again.

For now, though, he remained motionless, a figure of shadow and stillness against the rolling green. The only sound he made was the subtle shift of fabric against metal, the calm before the storm, the predator waiting for the foolish to return.

* * *

WC: 426

[Arsine 0]

Post Action: Equip T1 Perfect [Starter Claws] | ACC 2 | DMG 1


The woman of green stepped onto a field that matched her, boars frolicked in the fields before her - squealing in glee, shuffling around. She quietly made her way to a nearby rock, almost as though it were made to perfectly jut out over the field. Just high enough for the woman to be able to sit upon it, and allow her legs to dangle freely in the warm breeze, blades of grass only just kissing the tips of her feet.

Arsine wasn’t really one for battle, so she took the time to secure the claws onto her hands. Silent and methodical. The woman wondered if she would run into that Pker again. If she would, she had something in her inventory that would perhaps placate him. A marked man could not enjoy the same luxuries as she, a green player could.

Arsine drew in a deep breath, turning her face to the sky. Few clouds littered it, it was bright. Early morning. So the fields were empty. There was a certain calm to this. It wasn’t the same as the hustle and bustle of the town.

It was…peaceful. A small smile crept onto her lips as she sat there for several minutes, basking in the warmth of the sun as its heat kissed her exposed skin. Another several minutes passed before Arsine finally pushed herself off the stone, pulling out the bag of truffles. She held one up. Contemplating on eating one herself to see if it’d make her tired, or paralyzed.

“Is just a truffle?”

 

Arsine | HP: 320/320 | EN: 50/50 | DMG: 9 | ACC + 2  | LD +3 

WC: 256