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[PP-F1] Terrible Ideas (Lessa)


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"This won't end well."

It began like every other day on Aincrad. Kyr hurried out of town and toward the forest, where he searched for new weak creatures to beat on for experience. Unfortunately, he had yet to accumulate enough experience to level up at all, and he had about as much skill as someone who had just logged in. It frustrated him that he never made any progress, and that he had contributed nothing toward clearing the game.

So when the large boar stepped out of the brush and stared him down with bloody red eyes, Kyr felt a chill run down his spine. "Woah there," he held out his hands in a warding gesture, "let's talk about this..."

A snort came in response as the beast reared its head and steam roiled out from its nostrils. Kyr hurriedly unslung the blade from his back and adopted the best ready stance he could. His staggered gait looked sloppy, and the uncertainty in his demeanor was on display for passers by to see.

"Easy, guy..."

The dire boar let out a warning howl, then began its charge.

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It was the howl that caught her attention. Given the amount of time that that the blonde had spent on the lower floors over the past year, she recognized the squeal instantly. It was a sound that froze the blood in her veins, and lifted goosebumps up and down her arms. This was the noise that boars made when they charged a player. For many players, that had been the last thing that they had heard before being killed. Like some sick funeral toll, all too often played out of earshot of anyone who might be able to intervene. Unfortunately, some player had made the mistake of venturing too far out. Fortunately, Lessa had once again found herself in the right place at the right time.

Long strides carried her bulky figure toward the sound. She crashed gracelessly through the pine trees that surrounded her, forming a wall to shield her from whatever tragedy she hoped to stop. Sure, there was the possibility that the player in question was capable enough to handle the boar on his or her own. But far too often, that was not the case. The first floor in particular was littered with good intentions and terrible ideas, and the ex-Guardian was not willing to take the risk.

Her gamble had paid off. In the seconds before she took action, her gaze rested upon a wide-eyed young man. Oh, she was familiar with that expression of sheer terror. How many times had she witnessed it? How many times had she worn it herself?

"Stand back," she commanded. At the same time, many things seemed to happen all at once. Her eyes began to transform, growing lighter in both shade and brightness. In only a matter of seconds, she appeared to stare back at him with a pair of blue, glowing orbs. <<Howl>> had been activated. She also drew her sword, freeing the massive weapon from its sheath against her back with a soft hiss. Finally, she reached out a single gauntleted hand toward the dark-haired stranger. Lessa had arrived just in time, but there was no way that she could place herself in the boar's line of attack - her heavy armor did not allow her to move so quickly. But she trusted the system, and she knew that in only a moment, the beast would round on her instead. He was safe.

Spoiler

<<Howl>> skill activated.

Lessa: 112/112 | 28 E | 3 H

Kyr: 4/4 | 1 E | 0 H

Boar: 4/4 | 3 DMG | 1 MIT

 

Edited by Lessa
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"Uh... huh?" He blinked as a woman appeared and gave him an order. From what he could tell, she was fairly strong, and she had activated some sort of skill. For a moment, Kyr tried to discern if it was some kind of damage skill- then when he realized that the boar had taken none, he recognized what had happened. It was a skill for generating hate.

The boar turned on the woman instantly, the nubile player little more than an afterthought. He watched with perspiration beaded on his brow as she faced down the beast without any sort of detectable emotional response. It was almost awe inspiring, someone having such a stoic aura within SAO.

It struck him that he had been compelled to inaction, and the weaker player composed himself quickly. "I can't just stand back," he began.

The boar hurtled toward the blonde woman with reckless abandon, and Kyr took the opportunity to ready his weapon. The bastard sword hefted in both hands, he let out a mangled howl- hardly menacing- and he ran toward the beast's exposed back. "No way I'm just going to let myself be useless!" he called out as he sliced toward the beast with a wild swing.

And his blade went wide, then dug into the dirt somewhere to the left of the boar.

"That... was embarassing," he muttered, and his face adopted a rosy hue. "I'm just gonna go somewhere and die, now..."

Spoiler

ID: 49307 BD: 2 (MISS)

Lessa: 112/112 HP | 28 E | 3 H

Kyr: 4/4 HP | 1 E | 0 H

Boar: 4/4 HP | 3 DMG | 1 MIT

Edited by Kyr
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"No one is dying today."

The boy's words had been delivered in jest, of course. She could safely assume that he did not plan to slink off to the nearest ledge and throw himself off purely out of embarrassment. But considering the circumstance, Lessa felt the comment was in poor taste. He truly could have died. Based on the depth with which he buried his blade in the dirt, he most likely would not have been able to hold his own. She did not know the stranger's name, but the thought of another word being etched into the monument caused her breath to hitch.

Even after participating in a boss fight, Lessa was endlessly surprised by the speed with which some of these low-level boars regained their composure. It was no wonder that so many fell to their dagger-like hooves and tusks. It was one of those tusks that scraped along her midsection. Unfazed by the other player's missed attack, the boar raked it's own weapons against her armor with a terrible grinding noise. She grit her teeth, casting a quick glance upward at her bar. Despite her heavy armor and her high level, the tiniest sliver of her health disappeared.

"Enough," she growled. With ease, she plunged her heavy sword into the boar just as it passed. There was the briefest moment, a slight flash of light, and an explosion of data. 

As she sheathed Gram, the woman turned back to the other player. Though her blue eyes revealed concern, her tone was steady. "Are you alright?"

Spoiler

 

{[49433] BD: 6. Lessa's attack is successful. MD: 7. Boar's attack is successful.}

Lessa: 111/112 HP | 28 E | 4 H (takes 1 damage)

Kyr: 4/4 HP | 0 E | 0 H

Boar: -5/4 HP | 3 DMG | 1 MIT (takes 9 damage) DEAD

 

 

Edited by Lessa
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"Yeah, I'm fine," he waved a dismissive hand and abated her concern with a lighthearted repartee. He tugged at his blade for a few moments until it wrenched free, then hefted it over his shoulder. "Obviously that boar won't be giving me any more trouble."

A dry laugh erupted from his lips. "Not that it would have had much trouble with me, huh? How about that- a swing and a miss! I'm about as good as any of the Tigers, batting .100 when it counts."

All jokes aside, Kyr deflated and let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah... I'm not actually that enthused about how much I suck. Sorry if I seem like an idiot. I didn't intend to have any run ins with monsters, but... obviously, they made reservations without letting me know."

He glanced sidelong at the scattered data as it ascended toward the heavens. "That could have been me..."

His eyes shifted toward her sword, not unlike his own, albeit far more decorated and much more imposing. "I like your weapon," he commented in an attempt to assuage some of the awkwardness. 

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"You know," Lessa replied dryly, hands moving instinctively to her hips, "the Tigers won their division last year." The instant the words had left her mouth, those same lips turned downward with the faintest hint of a frown. "Well, two years ago," she corrected herself, her voice softer than it had been before. "I guess I don't know how they did last year."

It certainly was a sobering thought. How would she have any idea how Cabrera and her boys had played last season? Aincrad's taverns certainly did not carry ESPN, and it was not as if she could check the results on her cell phone. Every single day, she found herself reminded of the family she left behind. She heard her mom's kind words, her dad's laugh, and her brother's stupid jokes. She smelled the lilacs that grew out by the barn, and she saw the way that the bush moved beneath a cool, Michigan spring breeze. To be back there - that was what she longed for, and she rarely ever stopped thinking about it. But less often, she was reminded of the little things. What had happened in the most recent season of Supernatural? Did Spencer Smith end up leaving Panic at the Disco? How did the Tigers do?

The stranger stared at her, his eyes wide and expectant, and she knew that she needed to answer him. "You're not an idiot," she countered. "But you do need to be more careful. I don't think I need to tell you how dangerous these boars are." At his compliment, she gave a slight nod. "Thank you. It gets the job done." It also attracted a lot of attention. Demonic Gram was one of the flashiest swords that she had ever seen, and the same went for most players that she encountered. It seemed that everyone had something to say about it.

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He laughed. It was a rare day he ever met someone who was actually a Tigers' fan. "I'll be," he grinned. "It's not everyday you meet someone in SAO who likes teams out of Detroit. I wouldn't know how good they did this last season, either. But they always seem to choke when I want to see them win it big."

Baseball was one of the few things he and his dad actually agreed on. He found it nice to be able to talk civilly with the man, even if it were only while the TV was on and the game was turned all the way up. Whenever the Ump made a bad call, they both yelled. Whenever the team scored, they both cussed and cheered like madmen. When the game ended, he felt like a redheaded stepchild all over again.

Maybe that was what made the call of SAO so damn strong...

"That's my general assessment of weapons, aye," he replied when she was almost disinterested in talking about her blade. He decided it wouldn't do to press her for anything more about it, since she was quick to close the conversation. Of course, she had chided him about the danger of boars, so he offered the most simple head bob he could by way of reply.

"Either way, I guess I won't be wandering off on my own for a while. At least until I can get a few more levels to my name." He blew a long stream of air through pursed lips, then decided to poke the elephant in the room. "Say, would you mind walking with me, just until I get back to town? I wandered out pretty far, and I wouldn't want you to have saved me for nothing. You know." His eyes shifted. "I can't really pay you or anything, so I'll understand if you don't want to."

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So he was familiar with Detroit's teams, and not simply making a jab at the Tigers? Interesting. The slightest traces of a smile turned the corners of her lips at the thought. For the longest time, the only commonality between her and the other players had been their current situation - trapped in Aincrad, fighting for life, the usual. To meet someone with whom she could relate to on a deeper level was a welcome change of pace. Of course, she did not intend to commit fully; if her time playing Sword Art Online had taught her anything, it was that slow and steady was always the best option. Remain vigilant - that was the best way to survive this death game.

"I think we can both agree," she continued slowly, her gaze finding his and monitoring it closely, "that the Wings probably made it to the playoffs again. I don't think even SAO could ruin their twenty four year streak."

Then he asked her to escort him to the town. She opened her mouth to answer that yes, of course she would. She had been planning to since the beginning. How could she, in good faith, simply leave him there? But Lessa paused as he spoke the final words. Her smile disappeared. "I don't want anything from you."

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"The Wings always go," he waved a hand dismissively when she casually offered the statement, "if nothing else, we can rely on them to do great. Wish I could say the same for the Lions..." he growled lowly at the admission, then glanced around himself. "It's a tough thing to be, a Lions fan."

When her attitude shifted to a more cold, dissproving glower, he held up his hands. "Hey, hey, no harm, no foul. Most people who are good at something don't do it for free. I just wanted to let you know up front that I was a charity case, since that seems to be par the course. It isn't a statement about you or anything."

With a sigh, he let his hands fall. "I guess I get it... this place changes people. It's easy to get caught up in different things, and expectations. I didn't mean nothing by it, honest."

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For a moment, Lessa found herself completely speechless. She could only stare at her companion, gaze studying his expression for any clue to his thoughts. He had responded so easily to her concern, first shrugging it off as a non-issue, and then even validating her behavior. This place changes people? He had no idea. But another thought caused her to pause, and her gaze narrowed slightly. Or maybe he did. So often, the low level players she encountered had no concept of how the game could transform people, as they had changed very little themselves. Two years of flitting about the first floor, hanging out in the taverns, and remaining in the safe zones brought about very little character growth. The simple fact that the stranger before her even mentioned the change might suggest that he knew something about it.

"Charity cases are my specialty," came her simple answer. Then, she turned, motioning with one gauntleted hand for the man to follow her. "Town is back this way." She took a few steps away, but moved slowly, ensuring that the boy could fall into step beside her. Once he did, she finally allowed curiosity to take over. "So are you from Michigan then?"

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"Yeah," he nodded, "from Grand Rapids." It was weird to be able to talk to someone about home. He realized instantly that it meant someone else was stuck in this game, in some hospital bed, maybe even the same state as he was. He blinked as that registered with him. "Does that mean you're from Michigan?" he asked, hopefully. 

Then he bit his lip. "Let's talk and walk," he added, "I don't want to hold you up any more than I have to. I really appreciate your doing this," he added thankfully.

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Her blue eyes widened. "Whoa," she breathed, her gaze slowing so she could turn to face the dark haired boy. "Grand Rapids?" The other player's unconscious body lay only a couple of hours from hers? The thought tightened the knot in the pit of her stomach. Two very different emotions warred within her. First, she felt a bit nauseous envisioning her prone form, hooked up to whatever wires and tubes kept her alive. Was she in a hospital, or her own home? Were her parents standing over her, or had they stopped visiting after so much time had passed? Thinking of it made her queazy. But as she continued to stare at the man, her second emotion became more prominent. It was a strange comfort, suddenly feeling as if she had met a connection to the outside world. Had he seen the Griffins play, or a concert at Van Andel? Had he visited the John Ball Zoo? Had he stood on the beach of Lake Michigan, listening to the murmur of the waves on the shore, and trying to see Wisconsin?

"Yeah," she answered him finally. "I'm from Manistee." 

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"That's not far at all!" he proclaimed excitedly. Then, it hit him. "Woah... well, that's pretty weird to think about. Y'know, when we get out of this place, we'll have to grab a beer or something. I..." he paused and glanced down at his hands. "Well, it's been two years. Outside, I'm old enough to drink now."

It hit him that he had missed his twenty first birthday, and his stomach sank. He wondered if his parents had taken the time to visit, to celebrate. He wondered if there had been cake, and celebration, and even a drink at the most recent in his honor. That's what he would have wanted. None of that silly sadness. They could do that every other day if they wanted to, but his birthday was a happy time.

That's how he would have had it.

"I guess that means we have to make it out alive, huh?" he smiled as best he could. "I... have enough Col for a beer, in the meantime, if you want."

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"Yeah," she whispered, nodding slightly. "Not far at all." Her battle attire allowed her no pockets, but out of habit, her thumbs hooked themselves in the waist of her leggings. It had been an incredibly long time since she had conducted such a personal discussion with another player, and she found it difficult to find the words. He was from Grand Rapids. She had visited the city so many times. Maybe they had interacted once in that other world. Their cars had passed on the street, or they had unknowingly brushed by each other in a crowded store.

Then something that he had said caught her attention. "Wait, you missed your twenty-first birthday?" What a shame it was, for a young man like him to be stuck in a place like this on such a special occasion. Two years, huh? Had it been that long? If that's true... "Jesus. I guess I missed mine too."

"Save your col," she commanded, appreciating the boy's smile, but struggling to mirror it. "I've got this one."

Edited by Lessa
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