DISCONTINUED, LOCKED, SCRAPPED, AND LOOTED/RECYCLED FOR PARTS.


Lyra was spending this Tuesday afternoon the same way she tended to spend them all, lately:

Sitting in Orejin's office, muttering to herself, waiting for him to finish interrogating her latest victims and come out here to congratulate her on a job well done. She could care less about the whole affair, considering she didn't give two shits about the job in question, but unfortunately, she was stuck here until the Administrator deemed her work (or her wait, she wasn't sure which) sufficient and let her go about her business.

On the bright side, Nekkiko had mastered no less than six forms of solitaire in the last four months.

Actually, for the first couple of weeks, she'd started playing The World's TCG, but Naieira had unfortunately had a large obsession with the game, and Lyra'd been forced to abandon ship to avoid having her ear talked off. Orejin's assistant was a sweet girl, and the only person Lyra really felt she could trust or depend on out of the staff she'd met, but she seemed to have a need to outtalk the entirty of Delta and Theta servers at once – and that was on a quiet day. Friendly or not, there was only so much chatter the Heavy Blade could tolerate, so she defended against the Wavemistress the only way she knew: by being AFK.

Which was why Lyra was less sitting and more sprawled, taking up two of the three large plush chairs that inhabitted the room, her sword leaning haphazourdly against the third. It was a makeshift arrangement that always involved quite a bit of shoving and turning to get the chairs (and the adjacent coffee table where her feet inevitably wound up) into the proper positions for her to lounge, but it was worth it. Obviously, the comfort levels meant nothing to the fox; Lyra couldn't feel the furniture on which she was flopped, so she could have been equally content sitting normally or even curled up in the corner. No, she had a far more sinister reason behind her elaborate sleeping arrangements.

Orejin was the sort of man who couldn't put up with any of his stuff being out of place. She'd found out within her first two visits here that he became upset if she even turned one chair a couple degrees away from where he wanted it to be. Switching everything around drove the man absolutely bonkers. When she'd first figured this out, Naieira had asked her to please leave everything alone, so as not to anger her boss, and she'd obliged out of fear. But as the weeks passed, she grew increasingly bored with her weekly and at times daily periods trapped in that waiting room. Shifting things around was Lyra's way of exacting revenge on Orejin, both for making her a trap and for making her wait repeatedly.

Every once in a while, she'd leave everything perfectly in place, just to mess with him further.

Regardless of all the reasons behind it, there was one fox-girl sprawled across most the furniture in Orejin's office, asleep, labeled AFK, and mostly oblivious to her surroundings. In turn, Nekkiko's headset was off her head, sitting on her desk, where she could care less what was being displayed on it. Of course, the same scene was displayed on her desktop screen, just in case anything important happened, but she was doing her best not to care what might happen until Orejin came back in.

The faint sound of a door opening creaked up from her headset, and she glance over at the screen, trying to see who it was.

'...Oh for the love of god, no'

She groaned as Arpeggio waltzed into the room, slamming the door behind him. “Lyra! My dear friend, how're you feeling today?” He sat down on the arm of the chair her butt was situated in, leaning one arm onto the back of the seat.

Lyra didn't move.

“Oh, come now,” he insisted, his voice still rather muffled by the distance between Nekkiko's ears and her headset's speakers. “You and I both know you can hear me. I know Ore's got you waiting out here for such dreadful amounts of time, but the least you can do is say hi to Uncle Arpeggio, right?”

Nekkiko leaned onto one elbow, massaging her forehead with her palm. “How can one man fit so much sarcasm into a single sentence,” she wondered aloud, in as much frustration as jealousy.

Lyra still didn't move.

Arpeggio tried poking her in the nose, then shrugged, standing and wandering over to the desk Naieira was sitting at. “Tell me, how long has our dear little trap been unconscious? I was hoping to send her on another assignment tonight, but-”

The first six inches of Lyra's Dryad's Sword were buried into the desk within a hair's breadth of Arpeggio's arm, sending papers flying everywhere and causing poor little Naieira to nearly topple out of fright.

“What'd you call me,” she growled, not even bothering to make it a real question. She knew full well that Arpeggio had just used his favorite term for the fox, and she knew equally well that he'd only done it to anger her. It worked every time, but she didn't care. He could do it to get a rise out of her all he wanted; she'd never stop being insulted and enraged by the way he reffered to her as the Administration's little toy. To most of them she was just a trap, just another way to enforce their rules – the fact that she was a real player, a real person with actual feelings, didn't seem to occur to most of them. Or, more likely, they knew and just didn't care.

She was fairly certain that was the case with Arpeggio. The way he delighted in tormenting Lyra let her know that he was fully aware of her emotions, given the way he twisted them for his own entertainment. She was miserably easy to read, though, and at times – though not this specific one – she could honestly see the comedy in the situation, and understood why he'd call her out. She had a lot of maturing to do, in that aspect.

“Oh, look who's awake!” He smiled and ruffled her hair and ears. “I thought you'd be down here, so I came by to say hi. Maybe to wish you luck, hmm?” The Fist Fighter reached over and took hold of her blade, freeing it from the wood before it dematerialized and reappeared on her back; one of many Stupid Admin Tricks he liked to show off to her.

“Yeah, thanks,” she grunted, turning to lean her hips against the desk, grabbing a random paper from the mess to read over.

“Come now, if you act that way, I won't give you the healing items I promised you.” Lyra looked up and raised a skeptical eyebrow, pushing the paper into her armor's inner pockets. Arpeggio, keeping a promise? This one she wanted to see. “Now that's better. I've got them right here for you. I'm just sorry I couldn't get them to you before the first half the tournament.”

He placed a trio of items into her hand, which she started at intently in disbelief.

Two Healing Potions and a Mage's Soul. Like that was supposed to impress her.

She snorted and shook her head, stashing the items anyway. “Gee, thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you.” Lyra rolled her eyes, keeping her voice entirely flat as she wished she'd just stayed AFK.

“It's the least I could do for such a good little trap like you.”

She growled at him, crossing her arms. “Really now. Then what's the most?”

He smiled. “I could let you get out of here right now, and tell Orejin you just had to sign off.”

“But that would cost me, wouldn't it?”

He shrugged, skimming over a couple of papers and smirking before looking at the Heavy Blade from the corner of his eye. “You'll just have to do a couple of assignments for me next weekend... that's all.”

She took the sheets from him and read them over, sighing heavily. There were no names she recognized on those papers, and she had no plans after the tournament ended.

“Fine.”

She shoved the sheets into her pocket and stormed out of the room, leaving Arpeggio to chuckle and wave behind her. “Have a nice evening in the sheep suit!”

Naieira probably got the door back on its hinges about the same time Lyra arrived in Dun Loireag.

“HIYAAAAAAA”

Slllllllllllll….clink

Two halves of a bright and vibrantly decorated monster eroded slowly into the data stream whilst simultaneously the colors faded into a grayish white. Facing the opposite direction of the disappearing heap of blood and guts, a character stood with a small grin forming upon his face. The reason for the demonic grin could be from a number of different reasons. This could have been a one shot kill, the monster could have been a tough opponent, or it could just be fun for the character to kill things. After all, wasn’t that what the game was about? It exists to satisfy the animalistic needs of humans by giving them visual representation of killing so in normal society they can still manage to keep their cool and act less like the ‘beasts’ they really are.

However, what if a character is met with the unnerving reality which subsequently stated he or she lived in the game? Then, could the killing be justified since it was no longer kosher in the eyes of humanity? It was still a way to release the he tension created by stress to allow people to kill nonhuman objects, but there was in response no alternative world in which the character could react with others. The root towns were made up of other characters that had two realities. When these two converged, could a player be considered human?

The answer is obviously yes; even though one has no body to return to, their feelings and emotions still exist with a bound soul to the pixilated being. Thus was the true to happening situation in which the Freedom Fighters were accustomed. The Freedom Fighters were a veiled group of people who had the unfortunate exposure to a virus known as Twilight. The true effects and the virus itself are kept quiet to the public on the outside; in fact, only the higher ups have any knowledge of such a critical disease infesting the game. Due to this, the group had to fight for their right to escape the boundaries of the game. Of course, they really had no idea how to escape and only went on escapades to fight a group of hackers who supposedly had access to the key. To the player who just destroyed the monster, most of the information is unknown, but he knows he has to escape the game.

Pathetic…not even worth my time.

With the words said by the character, a set of three golden rings descended from above his avatar. Within moments, they encircled him and began to traverse his body in the typical vertical fashion. Closing his eyes, the character’s sight obviously diminished. The only sound which remained was that of the calming field: a whistling wind and crickets playing their miniscule violin legs. Soon, the sounds disappeared entirely and were replaced by the sounds of voices. High pitched, low pitched, and mid pitched were all distinctively caught by the audible receptors of the player. Even though the words all formed a mass amount of blah, the distinct notes of each voice continued.

I’m glad to be back to Dun Loireag.

Opening his eyes, Hac let his bright blue eyes shine as the warmth of the sun beat down upon his body. The refreshing feeling of warmth gave him a serene feeling which seemed to revitalize his self-esteem. The root town of the theta server always had that affect on the Heavy Blade. Even though he risked everything being in the open of a server where the Freedom Fighters’ hideout was found, Hac just always felt like returning. Dun Loireag called out to him. Maybe it was the high mountains with heavy hot air balloons attached by thin strings, or it could be the gently breeze which accompanied the height and atmosphere. He really does not even know what draws him to this place, but there is something.

Throwing his hands behind his head, the character slowly begins to pace in a straight line. He has no idea where his feet will take him in the area, and he does not really care. He is here to clear his mind of the actions from the last quest with the Freedom Fighters. Many unmentionable things happened in the progression, and stirred many emotions. Of course, that was usual. After every episode the Freedom Fighters went on, the group had a bit of tension between them. Everyone seemed on edge, and everyone needed their own time to cool off.

Ah…once again my mind is at…

…Peace

(OOC: Honey and Vinegar… can I be called Avocado?)

Calm orange skies and gentle white clouds was the forecast for the day. That was the forecast for every day, technically. In the city of Mac Anu, players never seemed to see a blue or black sky. Though the Heavy Blade had seen such a thing with the town had been over run by zombies; that was a night he wished to not remember again. The night of terror was something that had been burned into the Heavy Blade’s mind and he had buried it deeply. All he wanted to think about right now was how the weather in this town was gentle and had the smell of a new fall day. It was an appealing sight to the eyes.

The single Heavy Blade was lying on one of the stone benches in the Swordbreaker’s garden. Four of the gray structures circled around a water fountain. A statue with the current leader of the clan, Mr. KamiKazeKiwi3, was placed in the center of the fountain. He was posed magnificently with his trademark Momo slung on his back. His right hand was on the hilt of sword and his left was on his waist. Now, if water wasn’t coming out of his hair, the picture would be inspiring. Perhaps the real reason that for the water was to show the more humorous side of the clan leader and the clan in general. Honestly, who wouldn’t laugh at that statue?

The garden was an area of the clan that was somewhat secluded from the rest. It took a while to get to, so it was kind of pointless to go, unless you had some time to waste. Luckily for the clan house, Slicer was one of those people. He enjoyed the calm this place gave him whenever he had decided to come here. It was one of his favorite retreats from the rest of The World and it was good that no one else usually came here. The plant life around the benches gave it a very friendly feel, though half of them were the color of autumn orange. It was still a pleasant place to rest.

Slicer had been wasting his time here a lot today. He had finished with everything else, so there had been nothing for him to do. He wasn’t in the mood for duels and fighting monsters alone wasn’t the thing for him. So he had decided that it would be nice to retreat to the clan house. The Heavy Blade had spent the better part of an hour just staring at the sky. Thinking that he had probably wasted enough of his time here, the Heavy Blade decided it was about time to go. Pushing himself up, he gave the fountain one last chuckle before exiting the garden to go back into the Hall of Swordbreakers.

The corridor held pictures of past and present Swordbreakers. He saw faces he knew well, but also the faces of past players he had never met and possibly would never meet again. It was sad to think that such great players would be all but forgotten within this vast game and their only memories would be a still picture on this hall of memories. The Heavy Blade sighed, trying to keep himself from going down the route to depression. So many people had come and gone. So many more would follow that path. Slicer wondered if he would also be forgotten by the masses soon enough.

A few turns and hallways later, the lone Heavy Blade walked out of the castle. Looking back at the magnificent castle, he wondered how many memories lay within those stone walls. How many past lives had been tossed in there and forgotten. How many players would walk through the double doors and be welcomed into the clan. How many names will be made famous and then forgotten. Was that the fate of humanity itself? Were all those that lived in history to be forgotten, only remembered through other’s interpretations? Would anyone be able to be remembered for what they really were, what they really stood for? All these questions and yet… no answers.

Arriving back into the main section of Mac Anu, Slicer walked underneath the bridge, to a place where he dwelled long ago. He smiled as he looked at the small hideaway underneath the arch that connected the two sides of the town. There had been a time when he had been happy just lying underneath this area, listening to the bustling crowd above him talking about their daily lives. The occasional splash of a newbie tumbling into the Mac Anu river would cause a wave to drench him. Those were happy days. He needed a break from everything.

Jumping onto the bridge, the Heavy Blade walked over to the Chaos Gate. Selecting the Theta server as his destination, Slicer clicked the transport button. He needed a distraction from his life right now. Hopefully the town would find one for him.

She wouldn't say it this time. She wouldn't. Not after the problems it had caused last time.

But she was still allowed to think about how much she hated Dun Loireag. It wasn't the look of the city, or the sky or anything – that was all pretty. It was the MONSTEROUS DROP OFF that drove her nuts.

She knew the game was likely programmed not to let her fall, or at least, fall very far. She didn't really want to find out if it was true or not, though. Instead, she just wanted to get to the shop in peace, maybe rally up a couple party members, and go about her life. Hopefully, she'd have a fairly normal afternoon. If things didn't seem to have that sort of potential, then instead she'd go ahead and pull out one of the missions she'd been set on by her damned probation officers.

'Speaking of which...' It was worth examining the files more thoroughly. She found a corner to tuck herself into and started to look them over, curious as to exactly what kind of mission she'd been sent on. Each file showed as a piece of parchment in her hand, with a brief code name of the mission (usually something entirely asinine, when it was from Arpeggio), as well as the PC names of those involved, visible on it. But when she actually accessed the information, it showed on the same sort of interface as her Flashmail window, with an in depth description of the problem, and in most cases, a picture of the player(s) the report was about.

The first file was the same sort of reconnaissance mission she tended to be sent on; some player had been reported to the administration, but they weren't certain yet if they were a problem or not. Lyra – and presumably, a few dozen interns working their way through various computing degrees – got to act as a spy in those cases, to figure out if the claim was baseless or not before anyone important had to get their hands dirty.

The last mission like this she'd been sent on had been a Whipmaster with absurd physical defense. At first, it had appeared that they'd hacked their stats, but after a short discussion with Lyra, she'd deemed the boy too young and stupid to realize there was anything wrong with his situation. In the end, she'd figured out that there'd been a minor glitch in the system, and that the boy had done nothing wrong. Rather, he'd been one of the first people to change classes, and when he'd transferred from Blademaster to Whipmaster, his heavy-class armor hadn't automatically been removed.

When Orejin had heard that Arpeggio had sent her to talk to such a case, he'd sounded disgusted. “It doesn't matter if the glitch was in our software. He was still deliberately manipulating the system, taking advantage of that error. Players like that should be dealt with far more severely.” Lyra didn't bother bringing up the fact that the boy was only 9, and thus probably not old enough to notice the problem, or that he was only allowed to play for three hours every Friday night, and so hadn't even gained enough levels to use better armor yet. Orejin didn't tend to listen to that sort of sensible talk, which was why as obnoxious as Arpeggio was, she preferred taking her problems to him.

This mission was something to do with a Long Arm using Heavy Axe skills. Interesting, but the player in question was nearly ten levels higher than her – she'd have to either gain a few levels or find an accomplice for that one.

The second mission was similar, but was labeled with greater urgency. This player had already been confirmed as a threat, and Lyra was required to deliver a tracking mechanism to them.

The administrator's tracking mechanisms came in three varieties of various permanencies. The most temporary involved using a special Knight's Blood on the player, which appeared to act as normal, but in fact served only to put a beacon on the player for the next ten minutes. The next one was far less temporary; Lyra had been given a small army of specially made Gold and Silver Grunties, each of which had a similar beacon in their programming. The particular items had been chosen because they were easy to convince any class to take, valuable enough for people to be willing to trade for, and likely to be kept instead of sold. It was the preferred tracking method, with the Knight's Blood being used only in an emergency, like when someone refused to trade or when the situation became too dangerous for Lyra to stay on the field with the player in question.

The final tracking method was Lyra's least favorite of the bunch, if only because it was the one placed upon her: a permanent marker, embedded in her very data, where nothing and no one could touch it except the administrators. In her case, the beacon was programmed not only to keep track of her whereabouts, but also set a constant data feed to Naieira's desk: who she was talking to, trading with, or partied with. Anything suspicious set up a flag in the system, and from there she was required to follow them to further investigate.

It was the curse that kept her from playing with her children or friends.

She'd gotten pretty used to it by now, and this time she didn't even sniffle at the thought. It'd be over eventually, after all; her sentence was far enough along in its course for her to feel like she could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

At any rate, that particular mission sounded like too much danger and not enough excitement. She'd deal with that some day when she could get an easier start.

Then there was the paper she'd snatched from Naieira's desk. Lyra had snatched it because the name had glowed with a “recent complaint” notice beside it; someone had reported about the problem within the last hour, which made the odds very good that she could track down these characters easily tonight.

The case was also an interesting one: the two characters, named SpirtZer and SeltZer, had been reported at least half a dozen times for being invincible. There were no specifics, but Lyra knew what types of hacks usually caused the appearance of invincibility: instant regeneration, 100% no damage, -1 defense or evasion (which the game read as infinite, a glitch she'd repeatedly asked to have reported to programming), and targeting invisibility were the most common ones.

Occasionally, though, it was just a level 99 player messing with newbies in the PVP practice arenas.

Given the eccentric style of their names, she guessed that was the case here.

Now that she knew what she was going to do for the evening, she needed supplies. The vixen stood again and traipsed around the corner, arriving briskly at the server's Magickery.

Something caught her eye before she could talk to the shopkeeper though; a distinctive head of blue and green hair, wandering past. She leaned back from the counter, holding onto it with one hand so as not to lose her balance, and eyed the man's retreating back.

Yep, the giant sword was there. It had to be him.

She forgot her purchase for now and chased after him, calling for him. “Slicer! Hey Slicer, wait!” Lyra slowed as she fell into step just behind him, putting one hand on his shoulder to grab his attention, her other still supporting her sword. “Whatcha doing here? You done with your matches for the night, too?”

He looked over at her and stared for a moment, as though trying to recall who she was. “I lost my moped to Davy Jones's Locker,” he informed her, his face completely straight.

“Huh?” was all Lyra could muster in response. “Moped?”

“Oh.” He blinked a couple times, as though coming out of a day dream. “Hi, Lyra. Wrong secret organization.”

She rolled her eyes, taking back her hand and continuing to walk beside him, though she made sure to keep the other Heavy Blade between herself and the cliff face. “Since when was the Sword Breakers a 'secret organization'?”

“Well, it would be, if people didn't know about it,” he concluded with a shrug. The smirk on his face told her he was trying to be silly now, and she smiled back, opening her mouth to ask what he was up to, when she got an idea.

Slicer was someone she'd known long enough to be sure he was both trustworthy and not hacked, both from her own experience and from the fact Kiwi had chosen him for his clan. And, from her understanding, he was equally into justice, or at least random destruction and secret agent activity, as the next nutcase that ran around in the Tavern. So maybe...

“Hey, Slicer... If you're not busy... how would you feel about a little PKing expedition?” It was the easiest way to tell him about the situation without letting on, for now, that she was involved with The Authorities; so far she'd only let Kiwi in on that little secret, and she wanted to test the waters, see how Slicer felt about hacked characters before she brought up her involvement with the administration.

His grin grew in response. “You seem to know me well.”

'So far, so good.' “Well, you see, I heard about these two characters... They've hacked their data, and now they fancy themselves to be invincible... and frankly, I think someone needs to prove them wrong...”

But even as she spoke, there was no telling if two people would be enough to take them down, if they really were so damage resistant...

((Sorry that took so long. My posting during weekends will be slow, but on week days I should be much faster from now on. Hac, we're just wandering around town talking about it... feel free to overhear on any part of the conversation. I'm pretty sure you and Lyra know each other at least vaguely, so feel free to assume you know any amount of information about her, except her probation. And for godssakes, keep your hacks hidden in front of her, or else we can't pull this off.))

(OOC: You spelt Avocado wrong XD)

The triplet of golden rings fell to upon the circular containment field of the Chaos Gate. As they touched down and moved back up, a lone blue haired Heavy Blade was revealed. The first thing he did, before he even opened his eyes, was to take a deep breath. The air up in Dun Loireag was some of the best one could find in The World. At least, that’s what one would most likely think if they were an air sampler in this game. That was a bit hard, to do, though.

Allowing the refreshing breeze to wash over his body, Slicer finally allowed his eyes to scan the calm scene before him. The Theta Server had less people than its little brother, Delta, for obvious reasons. The second server of The World was normally the least populous because players either didn’t like the height or they didn’t like the lack of activity that occurred here. Players here were usually just coming for a certain item or a specific field to search through, before going off to their designated servers. Delta was far more peaceful and exhilarating. Still, Theta had the leveled fields that would allow the Heavy Blade to earn levels quicker, so he had decided to search the area, hopefully finding something or someone to entertain him.

Walking over to the Dun Loireag Magickery, Slicer seemed to scan the items that were vibrantly displayed. He was, however, not really looking at anything in particular. They didn’t seem to have what he needed. He felt a soft brush of fur stroke his jacket, but he thought nothing of it. The Heavy Blade didn’t have a very big personal bubble. He wondered if it was perhaps contained within him. Still, when someone called your name, you did have to turn to greet them.

“Slicer! Hey Slicer, wait!”

Hearing his name called and the sound of footsteps coming up to him, the Heavy Blade turned around and his eyes fell upon a vixin. He knew her pretty well, considering how they had been in the same clan for more than a little while now. Slicer had also had the (mis)fortune of dueling the furry little creature a few times in the past. Not the best memories he held within him, but they had been friendly matches, so he held no ill will towards his former opponent.

The current expression on Slicer’s face was that of someone whose head was in the clouds. If he were in a competition for facial expressions, he would give anyone by the name of Loony Lovegood a run for their expression. He then remembered something. “I lost my moped to Davy Jones’s Locker.”

The fox couldn’t seem to really think of anything to come back with that. And that was also when the Heavy Blade snapped out of his own mind and came back to reality. “Hi, Lyra. Wrong secret organization.”

“Since when was the Sword Breakers a ‘secret organization’?” While they talked, they started walking around, though he wasn’t sure where they were talking to. A nice walk, though, was always welcome in the Heavy Blade’s book.

“Well, it would be, if people didn’t know about it.” The Heavy Blade smiled at this, wondering how cool the Swordbreakers would be if they could all get suits and sunglasses and secret code names, like L or Kira or Splinter or Racer X.

The female Heavy Blade seemed to pause in thought for a few seconds before asking something. The question seemed defensive, as if she didn’t want Slicer to know everything that was going on.

“Hey, Slicer… If you’re not busy… how would you feel about a little PKing expedition?” The Heavy Blade smiled at this. Even if Lyra was hiding something from him, he doubted anything could go too wrong if PKing was involved.

“You seem to know me well.” Even as he said this, something caught his… nose. They were still walking, but Slicer knew there was something here. Moving his head up, aiming his nose around, he said something slightly odd.

“I smell water.”

Glancing around the entirety of his surroundings, the Heavy Blade tensed his muscles a minute amount as one hand drifted from a loose dangling position to the one of a kind katana at his side. The city was filled with officers known to belong to the organization named the Knights of War. These tyrannical players were not directly employed by Cyber Connects Corporation, but were under the direct order of the administration. They were military dogs who were more or less brainwashed and corrupted with power; they would do anything to see a fellow human cower in front of them and beg for their lives. This group of so called ‘peace keepers’ had been a thorn in Hac’s sign for a spell already. The Heavy Blade had even had a scuffle with a few in the Root Town before the tragic series of ‘accidents’ which left his mind stranded in the game, to forever wander for an exit. Sliding his mouth to one side, two of Hac’s teeth slid out of his mouth and were noticeably biting down upon the pink skinned lips.

Pacing a little further, a sly remark could be heard reverberating within his ears. Shifting his glance slightly, the Heavy Blade saw the back of a male figure, as well as the front of a female figure. Oh god no… Hac thought as he tried to take another step. However, his body would not move, and slowly his body began to pulsate in minute proportions. Sliding his two white chompers back within his mouth, the character slowly began to grind the teeth back and forth; he was trying to hold his smart ass side from escaping. After all, when faced with an idiotic remark from a character who once cross dressed for what was an already abnormal event just would send anyone soaring like a rocket. What would happen to any other player if faced with the idiotic words of…

“I smell water.”

To answer the question imposed, any other player would most likely continue walking while admitting a small chuckle, but not Hac. He could not. Why? Because his element of choice just so happened to be water (and of course, the male’s voice who said the phrase was the same). Even though Hac had not met the fellow player in a long time, he knew my hearing the sound of his voice that it was his undeclared rival for water Heavy Blade supremacy in ‘The World’, Slicer. The two have an undeclared rivalry due to the fact that neither has really discussed a true race to being the lead water based Heavy Blade in the game, but both pursue the same goal. However, thanks to being around for longer (as well as being forced into situations not common to a normal player), Hac has come to possess the Oceanic Aura. A blade forged in the icy fortress of Melzas the hacker Elite. The Blade was made by mistake, but has been used by the Heavy Blade ever since.

“You have a keen sense of smell my friend…and what do you happen to be doing he…hh”

Hac paused for a brief moment as he turned his body to face the back of Slicer. In doing so, the Heavy Blade’s peripheral vision was also changed, and the woman’s figure also became fully into view. Damn, what luck I have today… Hac thought as the fox ears and tail quickly made his eyes shift to the ground. The player who was now thrown into the mix was Lyra, a character Hac had almost dueled in the past, and may duel in the future. It was unbeknownst of what was help in that time, but Hac did know one thing, she was strong. How strange it seemed, three of the most known Heavy Blade’s stumbling upon one another in a root town. It was…almost too coincidental. In fact, it could be. Lyra and Slicer, being both of the SwordBreakers, could have planned a meeting, but still….Hac believed it to be quite odd.

“here…” he finally finished as he moved his feet to position his body so he could see both player’s faces with only the slightest shift in his neck. In doing so, the three made a makeshift triangle, but unless one of the birds flying throughout the skies of Dun Loireag cared about geometry, no one would really notice.

(OOC: Short, Sweet, sucky, but most importantly a post ^^)

Hacorie's appearance was apparently the cue for everyone to stop what they were doing and stare at each other. Lyra had to wonder what the big deal was, as she crossed her arms and waited for one of the boys to talk. The odds against the current situation went way over her head, far enough to not even come to mind.

“What, were you avoiding me or something, Hac?” she mused, tapping one foot impatiently. “You seemed shocked to see me.”

He would have been right to avoid her, though; to anyone omnipotent about the situation, it would have been far more logical for the two to be enemies than friends. She was now, essentially, employed by CCCorp, while Hacorie was the exact sort of character she'd made it her mission to hunt down. Thankfully for them both, though, Hac had only vaguely heard of Lyra's predicament, and she knew nothing about the stats of his primary weapon.

“Are you asking if I'm afraid of you, Lyra?” Beads of sweat began to form on his brow as he debated his answer. “If I say no, will the consequences be bad for me?”

The truth of the matter was that Lyra did put a minute sense of fright into him, though he tried not to let on. Lyra seemed oblivious to this fact, though – or at least, she took his words as a joke. “We'll duel again soon enough,” she assured him with a giggle, grinning his way. “But I think with how you've out-leveled me lately, I'm the one who should be afraid of you.”

He seemed mysteriously oblivious to what she'd said, as though he was struggling to deny his fear. “Oh no no. Afraid? Not me. No ma'am.” He shifted to his other foot. “And a duel? Whenever you want. We all know who the best male Heavy Blade is.”

She raised an eyebrow, studying him in slight confusion. What had him so nervous? Was he plotting something? Did he owe her or Kiwi money and she'd forgotten? She grinned for a moment, realizing the boast he'd just made, and how little sense it made in context. “Unless you're questioning my gender, I really don't see what you being best male Heavy Blade has to do with me. Or are you just afraid of being second best?” The vixen chuckled devilishly, considering dragging Kiwi's name into things while she was at it: as far as she was concerned, he still had Hac beat by a thousand miles.

“Nope. The best male Heavy Blade is just cooler than the best female.” Hac laughed, seeming to lighten up a little.

Lyra hesitated for a moment, torn between thanking him for calling her the best female and beating him for still thinking himself more awesome.

Slicer reentered the picture before she could decide: “Um... you two shouldn't talk like that to each other. You're both very strong Heavy Blades. Besides,” he smiled at them, pushing into the argument, “the position of best has already been taken by your's truly.”

She swung around to glare in Slicer's direction, the violence previously meant for Hac now taking aim at him instead. But she stopped without much more than an eye twitch, sighing; this debate wouldn't end without some sort of a fight, and she didn't feel like wasting any items on a duel before the tournament was over. “Eh, I'm sure there's plenty of other people who could beat us all right now. We're still pretty low level. We should save this debate for, y'know, level 99. Then you two can see how much I can own your asses.” The fox turned slightly away from the other two, her tail twitching in irritation. How dare they all claim to be the best... That was going to be her title, and hers alone...

"Fair enough, though I think you've switched around a few words there." The blue haired Heavy Blade shot his partners a disarming smile. He wasn't sure whether the two were serious about the status of strongest Heavy Blade, but Slicer had never been one who cared much for such a title.

She cast him a bit of a sneer; he was a true Swordbreaker in that he could fight with words just as easily as weapons, so his verbal barbs actually stung a bit. The fact that he could argue that he was the best without blatantly boasting like Hac did... "Meh," was all she could manage, crossing her arms. She stood for a moment and considered both the boys, giving them one of her trademarked "talk before I tell you to and I'll cry or something worse" looks, before sighing heavily. "I still have shit to get done, that's right..." she realized, muttering to herself. She had no idea what to do about the two men in front of her, though. Did she invite Hac along now? Did she grab Slicer and go? Or did she just take off, sans assistance in general?

The statement had been nothing more than an observation. The Heavy Blade had allowed his sense of smell to organize the molecules around the air into such a way in which he would be able to understand. The end result of his brain’s ability to perceive things in the outside world with his nose was the peculiar scent of water that was slowly covering the pleasant Theta server. Perhaps it was just the Heavy Blade’s odd imagination, but he was able to smell the power of water becoming more intense as the seconds past and thus his proclamation of the element came forth.

“You have a keen sense of smell my friend… and what do you happen to be doing he… hh”

Slicer’s signature eyebrow raise appeared at that moment. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but this sense of awkward silence definitely had to do with Lyra’s presence before Hacorie. The lowest leveled Heavy Blade’s eyes darted between the players attempting to assess the situation in a manner that would hopefully not seem too much like prying. Though he was seeing something, he couldn’t quite place his finger on what it could be.

“here…”

Well, it certainly did take him a while to finish that sense…

When he finished his sentence, Slicer moved back a step, allowing Hac into the circle, causing the three Heavy Blades to be positioned in such a way that each of them would be able to see the other clearly. There was another uneasy silence that soon followed the meeting of the three. Lyra took this time to cross her arms in a fashion that oozed annoyance.

The two other players began a friendly exchange of words. Well, the term friendly seemed to depend on who was actually looking at the two warriors talking. It began with calm intentions; Lyra asked Hac if he had been avoiding her or something, which then lead to a discussion about which of the two was the best Heavy Blade this game had to offer. This wasn’t a chance that Slicer could easily pass off. Allowing a cat grin to go off in his mind, he stepped up to the plate.

“Um… you two shouldn’t talk like that to each other. You’re both very strong Heavy Blades. Besides, the position of best has already been taken by your’s truly.”

Slicer had no delusions that the two before him were probably better than him. He wasn’t the worst Heavy Blade, that fact was obvious, but these two had not only been around more, but seemed to be players who knew more about this World than anyone else. Their experience not only came from levels, but also from being in this world. Though the Heavy Blade didn’t know the situation neither Hac nor Lyra were in, he could sense that these two players had a hidden story to them. Of course, he wasn’t one to pry. All would come in good time, or so he kept telling himself.

When Slicer had let his statement out, he was immediately glared at by his clan mate. The Heavy Blade allowed his cat grin to surface from his mind, replacing the unsure position his lips seemed to take.
“Eh, I’m sure there’s plenty of other people who could beat us all right now. We’re still pretty low level. We should save this debate for, y’know, level 99. Then you two can see how much I can own your asses.”

The Heavy Blade’s amused smile stayed for a while as those words were taken in by Hacorie. Lyra seemed to have become slightly pissed by the Heavy Blade’s little joked; she must have taken it seriously.

“Fair enough, though I think you’ve switched around a few words there.”

If one looked into it, the statement would have seemed like tossing fuel onto a fire, but Slicer allowed his mischievous smile to turn into a genuine one, showing his party that the previous statements had been nothing more than him joking around. The Heavy Blade received a sneer from the vixen, telling him that she had understood Slicer’s true intentions. The fox went back into a lost train of thought while talking to herself.

“I still have shit to get done, that’s right…”

Slicer heard the words, though he was completely sure whether they had been meant for him or only the foxes’ mind. Whatever the case may have been, the Heavy Blade was getting bored of just standing around here.

“Well, then lets get some shit done. Hac, you in the mood to kill some stuff?”

The Heavy Blade had never gotten the concept of shutting up when he was suppose to.