The armour-clad player walked outside to the outskirts of the square, a weapon in each hand. He flipped Boomeraxe, then returned it to its place at his belt. Standing in a clear area, Turnip held his sword gently in both hands, gazing at the blade's surface. Then, slowly, he began to move. He stretched, and the sword seemed to stretch with him. The blade came down, around, around again, gaining speed and singing with a voice of steel on air. No-one would see it, but the armoured figure's eyes closed. The movements were faster, and in between stabs and swipes Boomeraxe was launched, caught, twirled and slashed. Turnip's weapons, hands, feet and elbows struck out at empty space – and yet they seemed so sure of themselves, moving so naturally and comfortably that it would seem they were designed for nothing else. Fluid, and in time to something – though there was nothing to be in time to. It was strange and somewhat lacking sanity, yes, but there was something… impressive about it all. Beautiful, even. Others glanced at him, not sure what to do about the other player twisting, turning, slicing and punching, fighting nothing. After a full minute, the armour-clad fighter jumped up, planting his sword in the floor and launching himself off of its hilt in a backflip, launching Boomeraxe in the air and landing crouched. The axe caught the upright sword as it returned, sending the blade sliding back to its owner. Turnip caught his axe and flipped his sword into his free hand with his foot, raising the weapons and finally settling, axe in front of him and sword above his head.

Turnip sighed happily, flipping his weapons one last time before sheathing them both, taking in a long breath of cool air. His bastard sword was too heavy for him to use Boomeraxe with it simultaneously, but if he got his timings right he could probably use them in tandem pretty nicely. There didn't seem to be much difference in the effectiveness of his sword-arm, but the grips did have more traction, and catching Boomeraxe seemed a little more comfortable. Ultimately the difference seemed minimal, but it was free and got him some forging experience, so why the hell not?

The armoured man breathed in again – there was an air of calm happiness around, and he found himself in an actual good mood, which was rare for the warrior. He knew that his attitude could probably change in a second, but he was content for now so long as there was nothing to spoil it or annoy him, particularly. He didn't know what it could be, but it was probable that now would be one of the few times when he was actually nice. The armoured figure was well aware that he was generally a force for good, but actually being polite and considerate of other people was something that was not really on his agenda, for the most part.

The helmeted player glanced back at the square, and – what? There was a large Christmas tree dominating the square, a feature that had been entirely absent just a minute ago when he'd gone to find the blacksmith. So that was SAO's Christmas season officially underway, then? Turnip resolved to keep an eye out for Easter Eggs and/or event quests. Under the tree was a large-ish chair, in which a large, jolly old man was sitting, clad in red clothing with white trims, wearing an odd yet awesome-looking hat. Could this be the fabled 'Santa'?

Turnip was pretty sure it couldn't be anyone else. He seemed to match the description… well, that, and he had a big name plate with the word 'Santa' above his head, which, unsurprisingly, was generally very helpful. The armour-clad player noticed that there appeared to be a line of sorts forming, not that big as of yet, leading up to the guy in red. An event-NPC he was, for sure, and with some quests to give to the players, definitely.

Making his way up to the line, Turnip looked out into the city of Urbus. The place was busier than it had been yesterday, or even this morning. He resolved to wait in the line, eager to see what Santa could possibly have to offer for him.

William Danielson||Godot & Rise Amagawa||Apathy
Lv. 13||Floor 2​

Godot felt a bit of sadness upon hearing Phoenix's response, but part of him expected nothing less. He opened his menu and sent her a friend request. "Well...my offer's always open. Shiren was always the type to solo without hesitation. I understood why, she was a confident player, and somewhat stubborn. But she could be reckless, too, and there was one time where I didn't think she'd make it..." Godot looked away momentarily. "I know you're no different, Phoenix, and that's why I'm not going to let you do this by yourself. I want you to trust me."

Just as he was about to close his menu, another friend request flashed onto his menu. It was from Apathy. She looked away and say, "Well since you're sending friend requests to girls you just met, I thought I might as well..." Godot put on the hammiest smile he possibly could and ran over to Apathy, who, expecting that he would do this, brandished her weapon and held it toward him. Godot clicked his teeth and sighed.

"Anyway," Godot started, "I have a few things to get done. There's a sea-dwelling wyvern that I need to fight and Christmas presents to get." He pointed to both Phoenix and Apathy. "That means you two are getting some as well, and I won't settle for just sending money. You don't have to give me anything for Christmas, but in return, I expect something for Valentine's day."

Apathy rolled her eyes. "Oh, so you trap people into giving you..." She paused and gave him a sharp look. "...Certain sensual favors..." She looked at him with a dry expression. "...By giving them gifts. Again, you're despicable."

"I just like to give presents is all," Godot shrugged, "and when I was younger Valentine's day wasn't much of a gold mine for me." Apathy looked away again, mouthing something under her breath. "Anyway, I have to go fix my fishing rod. C'mon, Apathy." Godot waved for her to come over and started to walk away, but he soon noticed that she wasn't following suit. He looked back to see that she was making easily the most expressive pose yet. She seemed to be in shock and covering her mouth out of disgust.

With her eyes swinging left and right, Apathy started speak in a slightly less deadpan voice. "Godot needs help fixing his fishing rod and he asks me to go with him...what type of girl does he take me for?" Godot scowled with very visible irritation. "Clearly Phoenix is the classier of the two of us...because she would surely never do..." She shot Godot a sharp look covered by crocodile tears. "...that. And we've only just met! Oh, what has the world come t-"

"I'm leaving," Godot said dryly, walking in the other direction.

"Ah!" Apathy exclaimed in her signature deadpan voice. She ran in his direction and walked next to him. Godot looked back to Phoenix and said, "Remember, I'm always here to help. If you ever face a member of the Black Azaleas, or if you just wanna belt me one, just shoot me a message!" With that, he waved and headed off to find the Silver Salmon.

As expected, Lucina was the first top break the ice between her & Robin. She started with asking if he had any brothers or sisters. Robin is still relieved he has none, but maybe he would've changed if he did have any. "No," he replies, leaving it at that. As she said sometime ago, Lucina has an innocent sister in the real world. They both were in that incident. From what Robin's hearing, her little sister must not be holding out well without her sister with her.

Lucina also mentions she has few friends. That sounds like Robin himself. Lucina further presses Robin if he has any friends of his own. This conversation is pointless. "I have a few," Robin starts, "& a best friend too." Robin paused for a while before continuing, thinking he's saying to much. "I don't spend too much time with him much." Robin hopes Lucina won't press him further about his life. It's embarressing. His friend, though...

How does Clay feel about all this?


Finally, they're at their destination. «Urbus» This city was only reached yesterday, thanks to the defeat of the 1^st boss. "We're finally here," Robin states, finally relaxing. Their first stop should be the inn, then Robin should find an NPC blacksmith to repair his «Anneal Blade». "Let's take you to the inn now." Robin already heads towards the nearest inn. They need to heal soon too, plus Robin's fatigue is kicking in. He'll need some food to regain some energy.

Urbus. This place is pretty cold. Their's the Santa NPC with the spirit. Robin should take the opportunity to take the quest soon. Putting that thought aside, Robin doesn't take offense to Lucina's comment about having friends. Typical answer. "Hmph, it's only logical to think I don't have any friends from my status. It's not like I wanted to make friends anyway, they insisted," Robin explains himself, deciding to drop the topic.

Robin saw Lucina attempting to look at his eyes inside his hood. Robin looks away from shyness. Is she trying to get friendly with him? It's pointless if she ever dies when they're friends. As they enter the inn, Lucina proposes an offer: she cook him something. Robin doesn't know how to cook, but should he take up her offer?

...Where else can he get food like hers? Of course, they'll have to talk...more. Then again, they still have to discuss a few stuff, specifically, that mafia group.

"Very well." Robin steps in with Lucina & chooses a room. "Also, that sandwich was..." Robin couldn't finish his sentence as he was too embarrassed to say it was good. He looks away & covers his mouth, his whole cheeks blushing red. Lucky no one can see through his hood. He enters the room already thinking as he takes off his hood, his embarrassed look subsided, "If you could...a Fruit Sandwich..." he asks for hesitantly, taking a seat near a small stand. Besides his mother, he's never had anyone else cook for him. Well, their was that one girl he tried to save with his friend when he was sick at the time, & the girl tried to be friends with him, starting by cooking something for him as thanks. What is everyone's life without him in the real world?

"Euuuaaaaaggghhhh… Huuuuuuhhhhhhh... Buhaaaaaaaaagh-"

"Can you shut up, please?"

"I'm boooorrreeed. There's no reason for this, it was the shortest bloody line in the world!"

"Just be quiet, alright? Complaining won't help anyone."

"Hmph… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … Uuuuuuueeeaaaaggggghhhh…"

The bystander sighed. Being behind Turnip in line wasn't a good thing to be. The vegetable in question had been making various complaining noises for almost half an hour now. It was true that the line hadn't been long at all, Turnip having joined it a mere five minutes after the Christmas events actually began, but for some reason this last person – the very last person before Turnip in line – was taking an age and a half. And then, in a moment Turnip almost never believed would come, the man on Santa's lap (he was actually a fully grown man, which makes the situation a little weird) finally got up and left. Turnip was, of course, the first to notice, and the first to complain.

"YOU'RE DONE. OH MY GOD, FINALLY. YES. YOU TOOK SO LONG."

The man, slowly, turned to look at Turnip. He opened his mouth – that's how slow he was, you noticed that he opened his mouth before any sound came out – and then spoke.

"S-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-so-so-so-so-so-s-s-s-so-so-so-so-so-sor-sor so-so-so-sor-sor- sorr- sorr- sorr- sorr-sorr- sorr- sorr- sorr-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-so-so-so-so-sorr-sorr-sorr-sorr-sorr-sorr-sorr-sorri-sorry…"

The slowness seemed to be infectious, as it took several seconds for the man's speech to sink in.

"… One word. Really."

"I-I-I-I-"

"Please don't try to speak. It's just because it's… just don't. It's… don't. Don't."

The man simply looked down and walked away. Slowly. Turnip's mood was a little worse for wear now, but he figured it would pass. Just being forced to wait for a little while wasn't something that would weigh heavily on him. He addressed the red-clad man in the seat before him.

"If you're not Santa, I'm going to bloody kill myself."

… And a happy new year…

"Ho ho ho!" Santa chuckled, "Of course I'm Santa Claus! What would you like for Christmas, little boy?"

"'Little boy'? What are you, blind and deaf? Is that tree hiding poisonous spores or something?"

Santa chuckled again, "No, no, my good man; it's just that I can see the child in you, as I can in see in everyone!"

"Yeah, sounds great- Anyway, you asked me what I'd like for Christmas?"

"Certainly, what does your heart desire?" The old man smiled warmly.

"A demon."

The smile disappeared immediately, "A demon?"

"Yes. For Christmas, I'd like to know the name of the demon-sword who calls himself Vengeful Acts, so that I can take control of him. Or will you deny a poor little boy's Christmas wish?"

"Are you sure there's nothing else? Maybe a ball or a toy car of some kind? Everyone likes toy cars."

"Well, I suppose I could go for some kind of thing with lasers and sharks an- nope, I- yeah, just that. Name of the demon-sword, please."

"Well, I… I suppose, if it is your Christmas wish, I shall do my best to see that it is fulfilled. At least it's only one request… that fellow before you had quite a few. A name is hardly the most difficult thing I'll obtain for a gift this year."

"Cheers, Santa. So, uh, is there anything I can do for you? Quests 'n' stuff?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I could use some help in delivering some presents… and my poor Rudolph…"

"Rudolph?"

"One of my reindeer, he's gone missing. I think he must be somewhere in the dungeon near the Lone Tree."

"Hmm, I think I was just about to check that tree place out, too. I could have a look for you, though my last dungeon experience wasn't too great- anyway, what does delivering presents involve?"

"Oh, thank you. For delivering, I just need you to give these presents to five children around town. Could you do that for me?"

"Sounds easy enough. Thanks." Turnip took the five presents from Santa, then waved and left. The man in red shouted after him about triple garden instruments and having a merry Christmas. He soon spotted an NPC child in the streets, and promptly chucked a present at him.

"Merry Christmas, you prick!" Turnip cried in triumph as the present collided directly with the back of the child's head, doing nothing other than granting an <immortal object> notification. The child seemed completely unfazed, shouting a thanks and gazing fondly at the present that had just recently been hurled violently at him.

Wow, that was really harsh of me. Oh well, one out of five. It doesn't seem to bother them, actually, so it's not a bad way of getting this done quickly.

Turnip continued his innocent-pelting, his annoyance at the line wait fading to nothing. He soon came to the realisation that throwing the presents wasn't really saving him much time, which caused him to stop after just another two throws. Two children left to deliver to. Surprisingly, they were becoming a little more difficult to find. After about two minutes, Turnip managed to find another NPC child, but with that child found it was becoming even more difficult. He spent another two minutes still, searching for the final child, before making his way back to the main square again, one last present still in hand. Then, through a shop, he spied one – a child! He raced to the door of the shop in the hopes of completing his quest.

"Aha! You're a child, I must gift- Nnnnope, not an NPC, don't mind me!"

Turnip clattered noisily into the door, but stopped and swivelled away immediately upon noticing the word 'Princess' - the player's name, obviously - above the character's head. He was about to stride away when he snapped immediately to his left.

"YOU." He said in an almost demonic voice, "I've got a present… with your name on it!"

In one swift motion, Turnip threw his last remaining present into the air, then turned and roundhouse kicked the object directly into the NPC child's face. It made a slight thudding noise, provoking no reaction from the child other than a 'thank you, merry Christmas'. Turnip revelled in his victory – with Santa nearby, his quest was pretty much done.

"Nailed it." He said, "High five? Anyone? NICE."

A random person from the square accepted Turnip's high-five. He didn't know who they were, but supposedly they were pretty awesome and appreciated Turnip's skill at roundhouse kicking objects into children's faces. Others appeared to be frowning at the armour-clad player, but to that he simply said, "What? They're totally immortal and everything."

And thus, the time came to confirm his quest's completion. He thundered up to Santa, announcing in a booming voice:

"I have completed one of your tasks, Christmas man! Five presents delivered to five children, as… REQUESTED!" Speaking with such grandeur and unnecessary pauses granted him a bit of attention from the line, but after a quick 'thank you' and a reward from Santa, Turnip was soon out of the line's way.

That didn't stop one guy from complaining, though, "Hey, there's a line for a reason, idiot!"

Turnip turned to him, miffed, "What was that? I'm sorry; I couldn't hear you over the sound of me already being done and no longer delaying anything. It's pretty loud."

"Oh, yeah, well, screw you!"

Turnip shrugged, "Ooh, you got me there." The armoured figure, notified of his completed quest, decided to check what he'd gained. There were five pieces of <Iron> and a <Christmas Hat>. Turnip simply stared, for a minute, switched to his inventory to view the items, then stared again. He looked on for several seconds, then seemed as if about to cry out in rage…

"OH MY GOD THIS HAT IS AMAZING."

Turnip took the hat and thrust it enthusiastically atop his helmet. It rested there, slightly out of place – well, very out of place – with the rest of his gear, but somehow fitting.

"I mean, yeah, I can probably use the iron to some effect, but the hat? THIS IS PHENOMENAL."

And so the helmeted and hatted player proclaimed to the world the amazingness of the <Christmas Hat>. Right in the middle of the Urbus streets, uncaring for now about the many weird looks he may or may not (seriously, he's definitely getting weird looks) be receiving from others around. Perhaps Turnip being in a good mood isn't so good for everyone else anywhere even slightly near him.