Turnip
HP 100% | LV. 12 | XP 72% | Col 2855
Location - Floor 1: Dungeons
Turnip listened as Nirvana explained his predicament. A tragic story indeed – if it was true. To be honest, it relied a fair amount on coincidence, so Turnip was a little doubtful.
That doubt, though, was soon solidified.
"Thank you for intrigue of my weapon," the PKer said, "but that adds to the suspicious nature of a masked figure trying to cause discord in a group. It would be really convenient for me and dotcom to be ousted from the group if you yourself had a group that wanted my weapon. Two player killers are a lot easier to kill than an entire group of players, and it just so happens that I even know of a guild that specifically wants my weapon. So I must ask, who are you really?"
So now this Nirvana bloke is trying to shift the suspicion onto me? Yeah, he's bullcrapping.
Turnip planted his bastard sword in the ground and looked up indignantly, "'Masked figure'? It's called a full-face helmet. You know, one of those things that you put on your head to stop it getting hit. Generally they're useful."
Of course, Turnip knew full well that his helmet concealed his identity. In fact, he considered it a merit of the helmets he wore. However; he was generally surprised that more people didn't wear them. He considered them to be the seatbelts of the RPG world, and yet no-one seemed to invest in them. They preferred to look at their character, he supposed – still, that was no excuse for it in this world. It's hardly intelligent to risk your life at the expense of following a fashion. On the other hand, the headgear of this game was all based on stats anyhow. A sturdy looking steel helmet from floor one could easily be outmatched by a hairclip or something at higher levels. Despite that, though, for Turnip, heavy armour and heavy helmets were the way to go.
And they protect against critical hits… he mused. "At any rate," He continued, "firstly, I'm not a moron. I'm not taking a level fifteen and a level eleven at level twelve." Turnip folded his arms, "Second, I'm not a murderer. Let's see you say the same."
Turnip glanced back down, satisfied, but realised that he'd been speaking at the same time as someone else. It was that same guy from before, the older potential duel-ee; Godot, apparently, level 11. The one on his back, Shiren (level 13), moved to a different back – Lucina's. That was, like, maximum kid level. How old was she, three?
"… Recommend that you two get the hell out of our sight." The man finished. And by "man", I mean Godot, not Shiren.
The conflict seemed to go a different way, now; they were talking about… cure-alls? Why? Turnip, naturally, hadn't been listening.
He thought he'd stay out of it, until Nirvana seemed to get angry with the group. He said something to dotcom, then rushed at Lucina.
Lucina was a level fourteen, and so could probably handle the level eleven. Still, just to be sure, Turnip caught his sword and ran towards the fray.
He stopped, just short of the lot, when he realised Nirvana – or the image of Nirvana or whatever – wasn't actually doing anything. Turnip lowered his sword to the ground and spoke, miffed.
"Hmph, what an ass. Those things were always annoying." The "attack" must have been a sword art of some kind, launching a decoy. He remembered things like that from the Halo series wasting several valuable sniper rifle bullets. Nirvana, he presumed, would be in <Hiding>. "If anyone has good detection, that'd be great, just in case he wants to try anything stupid against a group of six."
Turnip turned as Godot began to speak, addressing dotcom. It didn't seem anyone had really heard him, again. He'd have to get used to that.
"I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll take care of this out-of-pocket. I still can't trust you, and she's in far too fragile a condition to be taking chances."
Turnip had no idea who he was talking about, because, as mentioned, he hadn't been listening. He guessed people not listening to him was a sort of penance for that sort of thing. Turnip resolved to listen more in the future.
Godot continued, "Since dotcom isn't intent on leaving first, I'd recommend that the rest of you head back to town,"
"I would like to accompany you back to town," dotcom replied, "MY only, uhm, accomplice left me for no apparent and obvious reason. If you want, I can leave first thing once we reach town. Just allow me to go with you."
"Uhh," Turnip wasn't really sure what to say, so he more-or-less just 'fessed up, "I sort of may have been talking and not listening at points-in-times-thing-ness-maybe." He smirked underneath his helmet, "But if you're doing alchemy, don't you need a transmutation circle?"
He paused for laughter, whether or not any actually came.
"I don't know what you guys are doing, but I'm probably going to be staying here to grind. And for the record, no, I'm not a player killer." Turnip turned to Robin, "Yeah, I could see the looks you were giving me. Maybe if you'd been wearing a full-faced helmet, I wouldn't have seen." Turnip turned back to address the group in general, "But yeah, not player killer here. You guys can see that, right?"
