Pinball

Mishiro stirred and took the still opened book from his lap. He opened one of his eyes just wide enough to watch curiously as she flipped through the old pages. He watched her eyes dart from sentence to sentence, page to page. Backwards. Briefly picking out the more interesting snippets from the long-winded passages he'd spent the morning poring over. Seemingly satisfied, she bumped his knee to catch his attention. And so she had it; he rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and his thumb, blinked twice, and sat up straight.

His brow furrowed as she recited the line. Then the question. "Oh. Right." 

He thought hard, then harder still. His face eventually met the palms of his hands, half out of embarrassment and half out of intense focus. He was drawing a blank, the exact words eluding him. Maybe it was because he was put on the spot, or maybe it was because it was Mishiro who was testing him. He took a shot at it anyway. The knowledge was there, but the specifics were shaky. 

"Something about destroying human supply lines," he replied, doing his best to conjure up the words. "Uhh... the first settlement's destruction was just to get to the second. Most supplies passed through that settlement at some point or another. Wanted to finish the fighting as quickly and efficiently as possible -- uh, wasn't that simple though. As it goes on." He trailed off. The last bit wasn't entirely relevant. 

Pinball smiled loosely, looking to Mishiro as if he hadn't only answered one half of her question. But he was aware, of course, and had already made a mental note to give it a quick reread later.

And so it begins, he thought. 

He had never interacted with Raidou before -- nor had he ever intended to. They were both attendees at the Roundtable, to be sure, though Pinball had remained attached to the refreshments table while Raidou had immediately taken to the stage. They were taking up similar roles now, he felt. A thorough gaze swept the room for hidden threats. For escape routes. Classical music echoed through the house as Raidou capped a fancy pen and set it, along with a tome he'd been writing in, aside. The place was well furnished. Extravagant, even. He couldn't be sure if that was just the style of the homes on the floor or if Raidou just had a taste for the finer things. From what he'd seen of him, he figured either case was equally likely.

Pinball's eyes flicked to the teacup, the silver platter, and all the other finery, then to Raidou, and back to Bahr, wearing a strange expression on his face. Pinball hung back, tight-lipped, and instead leaned against a wall a short distance away from the two, choosing to quietly observe the conversation. He'd leave the talking to his companion. He trusted Bahr's judgement. 

But there was something funny about how Raidou mentioned his distaste for fat cats while sipping fine tea in his luxurious manor, enjoying a bit of writing and classical orchestration before breakfast. He was just missing the monocle and glossy moustache. Pinball quickly bowed his head, resisting the urge to smile, and allowed the exchange to continue uninterrupted. 

He sat there for a moment, staring into his again empty cup. Bahr had made up his mind, but now Pinball's thoughts wandered, and he found himself stuck on his brief outburst. It was a normal enough thing -- sometimes, people got upset and reacted with a temper. But for someone with his history, who had struggled so desperately to deny himself any such release in fear of what he might do or what he might say... it troubled him deeply. Bahr stopped as he stood, asking if Pinball was coming along. He looked up, then, at his partner, and then back to the bar. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming." He slid the empty mug across the counter and stood. Pinball lifted the hood of his cloak as they made for the door. "Isn't that far. This way." 

. . . . 

It was a bit of a walk, but the two would find themselves approaching the estate in just under fifteen minutes. Pinball would slow his pace, settling behind Bahr. "That's the one, just ahead." His eyes dulled in color as he deactivated his Tracking skill. "He should still be home. You lead. I'll follow." 

As was typical of the dark-haired youth, Pinball was not keen on taking charge when it came to conversation. Or confrontation, as of late. He hung back, his head low, but kept a deceptively watchful gaze on his surroundings. If anything changed in the city around them, Bahr would be the first to know. As they approached the door, Pinball retrieved a crystal from his inventory and activated it. He tucked it beneath his cloak and kept it hidden. He then nodded to Bahr. Time to get started. 

Pinball caught the drink sliding over to him and snorted. "No," he replied dryly, "sure haven't." His gaze shifted to his mug, where he absentmindedly swirled the liquid within. He contemplated the situation and sighed as Bahr's musings came to a close. The whole situation rubbed him the wrong way. Still, he knew better than to withhold his opinion. 

"I've got a hunch there isn't an endgame. Not one he knows about, anyway. Seems to me he's trying to do the right thing, in his mind. But that's a bad way to go about it. Left unchecked, well..." He let the idea wander, shook his head, and drank. His cheap jolly rancher beer couldn't quite wash away the bitter taste in his mouth. "You know. Making threats, demands, that whole persona, if it is one. It's just a slippery slope. It gets easier to do every time." And that, he thought grimly, is something that he could personally attest to. 

His scowl deepened as he recalled the events that followed. "Oh, forgot: when they started getting closer to who might have been responsible for the whole deal, he took a stance like he was going to cut the NPC down. Demanded again they arrest him, or he'd take care of it." Pinball's annoyance was palpable. But he'd spent a lot of time in his seclusion grappling with his temper. He had much stronger control over his emotions than he used to, and that showed when almost instantly he mellowed out. He lifted his drink and shrugged. Gave his head one last exasperated shake, like this time it would finally help dispel all those negative feelings. His attempt to relax was in vain, however, as he shot up defensively in response to Bahr's next question.

"I don't have a role in it," Pinball said firmly. The indignant reply even surprised himself. He softened. "You know that. I just watch. That's all." And it was true, though not quite the full reason for his attendance that day. He sank in his chair and worked on finishing up what was left of his second drink. 

The young man was grateful for the change in subject. "I just want you to talk to him. Figure out if he's got any motives or not. Try to get him to talk about his approach. Find out if there's a chance he becomes a problem or not. I tracked him before I messaged you. He's about a fifteen minute walk that way," he nodded in the direction, "if you're ready to head out already."

It wasn't long before the groan of the old castle door echoed throughout the garden again. Mishiro. Icy blue eyes flicked to the girl who took a seat beside him. "Good morning," he murmured. He couldn't help but notice that she seemed tired. He couldn't blame her. The lazy morning had probably gotten the best of the both of them. But he was happy that she was here. It looked like she was going to read with him, so his attention returned to his book, and he flipped to the next page. 

The book was an account of the rise and fall of some ancient kingdom in long and boring detail. It wasn't his usual choice of read, but since returning to Green Garden and finding an entire library at his disposal, he'd resolved to pick through every ancient, dusty tome that lined its shelves before he allowed himself to go out and collect easier, more entertaining books from one of the other floors. 

She fell asleep against his side not too long after that. 

He continued to read, but his mind wandered. How much longer could things stay like this? How many more lazy mornings with her were in his future? He had a bloody past. Although all was well and good with Bahr and with Mishiro, he had absolutely no way of knowing if he had been entirely forgotten by those who had wanted to see him brought to justice. For all he knew, he could be captured tomorrow during a morning walk. He could be caught by surprise and killed in his own home, if they knew where to find it. And it wouldn't have been soon enough. But even if that were the case, and his peace was to be ended in bloodshed, Pinball figured that he'd be able to accept it. 

After all, he'd been lucky. 

He sat his book, still open so as to save his spot, down in his lap, and settled more comfortably in the bench. Lazily, he swiped his hand through the air and navigated the menu to his inventory. In a click of a button and a flash of sparkling light, his long dark cloak materialized in midair. With a dexterous flick of the wrist, he whisked the cloak around and settled it gently across her shoulders. He watched her for a moment, ensuring that he hadn't disrupted her rest. And then he sat back and closed his eyes, and his melancholy musings made space for the more comforting songs of nature around him. 

His eyes flicked to the door as Bahr entered. He turned back to his drink, quiet, and allowed Bahr the time to sit down and get situated. Pinball's guess was that Bahr wouldn't like the drink. But he said nothing until he'd gotten comfortable and taken his first disappointed sip. Thought so. Pinball took one last drink of his own, and he felt Bahr's eyes on him. There was a long pause, and then it was straight to business. 

"Would it surprise you if I told you I was just feeling lonely?" 

He turned to look the man dead in the eyes, his expression completely blank. Pinball let that settle for a moment. Then he turned back to the counter and retrieved his drink. 

"Nah, just kidding." The scout drained the mug of the last of the elven brew and continued. "You know about a guy named Raidou? Made a bit of a splash at the Ronbaru Roundtable." He wasn't sure if Bahr knew about the existence of the floor boss's companion event. If he didn't, he'd fill him in... but for now, he continued. 

This time, Pinball's face betrayed amusement, his lips pulled back in the slightest of smiles. A shocking sight, even for someone like Bahr, who spent a good amount of time with the reclusive youth. "Practically busted the door down shouting Shakespeare, if you'd believe it. Proceeded to take a seat at the table reserved for the councilors and threaten the representatives. Completely threw the discussion off. 'The Frontlines acts on my behalf,' he said. 'Not a single one of your nations could stand against us... I've got a military that matches your best men 100 to 1,' or something." 

Pinball shook his head. His good humor faded to make room for his annoyance. His voice practically dripped with sarcasm. "He's got a couple cool titles he's pretty proud about, though. Calls himself the Red Wanderer. Real cute." 

He went to take another sip from his mug and was disappointed to find it empty. Instead he sighed, pushed the mug away. 

"Should have seen the NPCs' faces. Dude essentially told them to sit down and shut up, expecting them to listen. As if. Their faces just about turned purple. I was surprised he wasn't tossed in a cell for it. Guess Cardinal really didn't want players to muck it up. Wish I'd been recording." 

And with that, Pinball quieted down, with his head lazily propped up on his hand. He expected Bahr to have questions about it, and he was really interesting in hearing what he had to say. He left out, of course, why Pinball was there in the first place. It definitely wasn't to take part in a debate, that was for sure. But if Bahr had gotten this far without knowing about Mishiro, he figured it could stay that way. He wasn't going to bring it up. 

Eyes of glinting blue-gold danced across the desolate streets of Aradennia, resting finally upon their quarry: a residence situated in the dead zone of Floor 23, the former Sun Elf Capital. He blinked once, and his gilded gaze was instantly purged of its glow. It wasn't often that the solitary scout found himself on any floor past ten-- but today was different. He gave the lonely home one last cursory glance before spinning on his heel, and he was gone. He'd gotten all the information he needed. 

. . . . 

The tavern was empty. Besides the taciturn bartender, quietly polishing a glass behind the counter, the only soul sat in that dark bar drinking was Pinball himself. He sipped the brew almost robotically. He absentmindedly considered the sweetness of elven drinks, and then finally, having made up his mind, swiped his hand through the air and opened his menu. A few short button presses brought him to his contacts; he penned a quick message to Bahr and then dismissed the interface entirely. The note read as follows: 

Meet me at the dingy bar on Floor 23 when you get the chance. In that dead city.
Watched something interesting happen the other day, wanted to know what you thought about it.
Important.
Location's attached. 
. . . . 

He didn't like getting involved with the frontlines. In all honesty, the subject was a bit of a sore spot for him. But, whether he liked it or not, he had an unspoken deal with Bahr -- and he wouldn't shirk that responsibility. That responsibility he owed Bahr, Mishiro, himself. Countless others. Pinball leaned back in his seat, that dark and shady corner, and took his mug with him. How long had it been, since they'd been at each other's throats? How long had it been, since they'd managed an uneasy alliance? Bahr's companionship still felt strange to him. But, like all things, it got easier to accept. Day by day, hour by hour. 

And as the time slipped by, he took another drink. 

Player Stats: 

He walked easily through halls that betrayed every step with an echo. The cool morning sun streamed dimly through cracked and shady windowpanes, and the shadows of songbirds danced in its light. Held beneath his arm was a dusty leather tome, its title faded just barely beyond recognition. He chewed absentmindedly on a pastry. 

It had only been recently he started spending time at his home. His first purchase had been an apartment, but he'd later sold it to help him purchase Green Garden after learning about the useful buffs that a larger estate could provide a player. That didn't mean he cared to actually live in the house, though. For the longest time, he'd preferred wandering the floors and sleeping in shoddy makeshift campsites to a dry, warm bed. Something about how he hadn't deserved it. In truth, the serenity of the castle had once maddened him. Isolation had been his punishment. Now it brought him a certain sense of calm he found himself desperate to preserve. 

Pinball pushed through the castle's doors and stepped immediately into a lush and leafy garden. He breathed in the crisp morning air and settled into the bench, which was sat central in the garden and protected from the elements by the wooden shelter built around it. He sat and for a moment he considered the slowly falling leaves and petals and the soft breeze that swept through the castle grounds. He let out a content sigh and relaxed. The morning had all the markings of a good day. 

And so he got comfortable, picked up his book, and flipped it open to the first page. 

She had a lot more thoughts on the matter than he'd even initially thought. 

He tried for a momen to wrap his head around it. The bureaucracy was giving him a headache. But it was plain and evident to see, especially after Mishiro spent the time debriefing him, that there was a fair bit of internal tension at that table. And it definitely wasn't helped by the fact that Raidou had sauntered up and taken a seat where he obviously wasn't welcome. Was that intentionally to get a rise out of them, or just arrogance? He thought it more likely to be the latter. 

Once Mishiro finished talking, he responded in murmurs. "So it's just a matter of focusing the discussion, then? Guess it's hard to do when each one seems offended by something." Without interruptions, things would probably go a lot smoother. Pinball could see that Mishiro intended to get back into the debate, so before she left him to speak once more, he'd give her head a quick pat. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help..." Not the politicians specifically, but her.

And he'd slink back off to the refreshments. 

He stifled a chuckle as they both made a beeline for the cocktail weenies. The frontliner would dig his own grave or climb out of it, after all. There was no point in worrying too much, he reasoned -- though truthfully, the back of his mind was still preoccupied with his thoughts of the man's arrival. He absentmindedly popped weenie after weenie into his mouth as Mishiro wrapped her arms around his waist. 

As he listened, Pinball hummed thoughtfully. He ruffled her hair for a moment and then murmured in her direction, "What're your thoughts on all this? You gonna get back into the discussion?" It had seemed like she'd had some things to say, earlier. 

Mishiro would go on to tell him to try some of the heavier foods, asking if he'd eaten breakfast. Pinball exhaled, a gloomy smile on his face. "Oh, no, but I'm alright. I don't really have an appetite." He plucked one last weenie from the table as he was directed to the other foods, anyway. "Ah. Did you?" He couldn't help but notice she was only sipping on juice. "If you're hungry later, I could probably make us something..."

Things were heating up now. Despite the tactless way that Tiberius put things, Pinball could at least appreciate that the man spoke plainly. Although he felt a bit out of his element in such a bureaucratic discussion, he could tell that Tiberius was just looking out for his own. For a brief moment, he thought about intervening. There was no point in being here if the NPCs just got at each other's throats. Watching that happen could hardly be the point of an event so close in relation to the boss fight. 

But new faces on the scene were quick to interpose themselves between the bickering officials, and so Pinball again kept his mouth shut. He was surprised that he even had the desire to speak, though. 

He caught Mishiro coming back up the aisle, meeting her halfway. 

"Did you know that they have a refreshments table?" If she'd let him, he'd turn her attention to the snacks and drinks set out for the attendees. He pointed out Raidou, who was speaking now in blatant threats. "That guy needs an ego check bad. And cocktail weenies." And to go back to the frontlines, if he was so powerful and important. Another entitled frontline gas bag. Quoting Shakespeare, too, as if that made him sound cool and not like an out of touch dork. What an asshole, actually. Pinball's mood was soured, but he didn't want Mishiro to see it. He'd lead her to the refreshments, if she'd let him, feigning a smile as best he could, trying to ignore the fact that she could probably see straight through him if she wanted to. Trying to ignore the fact that adrenaline was already being pumped through his veins like an icy river. 

Pinball found his head buried in his hand. A man of standing? He might as well have called the dwarf a man of great stature. It might have had about the same effect. It still might, if he doubled down and hurried up with it. How embarrassing. The longer he spent the more he questioned if he really should have even came. He looked again towards Mishiro, only to find her seat empty. 

He shot up in surprise, catching the top of her head moving through the crowd down the aisle. 

For a second he considered following, and then he decided against it. She knew what she was doing. He could get there quickly if he needed to, so long as his fear of a dragon ripping the ceiling off didn't come to pass. He sat back in his seat, a little - no, a lot - more on edge than he was when he'd first accompanied her here. Pinball still wasn't sure what to make of all this discussion, but he still followed. For now, he kept his mouth shut and he bided his time. 

Pinball watched with quiet eyes as Mishiro pointed out each individual on the podium, and gave a bit of context as to what he'd walked into. He felt like he knew enough about the floor to follow what was going on. Contribution, though? He wasn't so sure yet. 

"Thank you," he whispered to Mishiro. His eyes didn't leave the stage. He was still half-expecting a dragon or something to rip off the roof and burn everyone alive. 

His perpetual discontentment aside, Pinball was lucky, still, that the other players in attendence were keen on listening to their own voices and acting like what they were talking about was going to matter in any way. No, no, that wasn't fair. He caught himself, exhaled through his nose, and leaned back in his chair, trying to keep an open mind. Trying to stay reasonable. He had an incorrigible bias and he knew that. He'd steal a glance at Mishiro before returning his attention to the stage, this time in earnest. If all he could do was watch and fight to keep his own cynicism at bay, he would do it. 

Alright. Now, something about a fire... 

He was a light sleeper. The soft click of the front door locking was more than enough to pull him from unpleasant dreams. He laid there for a moment, blinking the weariness from his eyes. His head lolled to one side, then back to the ceiling. She was gone. Another moment passed as the silence settled and then he rolled out of bed. 

Pinball didn't concern himself with the affairs of the frontlines anymore. Not really. There had been a time where he'd longed to be there more than anything, then a time after where he'd despised everyone who took part in it. Nowadays he'd rather just forget it existed altogether. Some would call that complacency, ignorance, or apathy. To him, it was peace of mind. Suffice to say, he hadn't spent much time on Floor 27. But he could tell he didn't like Ronbaru. With a distaste for crowds and guards alike, Pinball stuck to the alleyways and the side streets, following the traffic from afar. 

By the time he'd arrived, the introductions would be complete. Pinball realized quickly that he was missing context, but he wasn't sure how much he actually cared. Bickering NPCs didn't really tickle him like they used to. He lowered the hood of his cloak, ending the use of his Tracking skill, and slid easily into the seat beside Mishiro. He'd share a quick glance with her before silently turning his attention to the stage, and, in his peripherals, the attendees around them. If she was right, and this was an event pertinent to the boss fight, he was going to remain on high alert. 

Stats and Buffs and Such: 

mish goes pin follows :^) 

Pinball consumed the items at a meticulous pace. Not too slowly, but not too quickly either. He felt so strongly the need to appear as normal as possible in this group that he probably succeeded in appearing as anything but. He was aware of this, and he felt very uncomfortable in his own skin. The longer he remained sitting there, silently chewing and drinking, the more his face burned up because of that encroaching embarrassment. Finally, he threw caution to the wind and sped up, intent on finishing as quickly as possible. 

He was already finished and wiping the corner of his lips when Lessa spoke to him, accepting the buffs. 

Surprised she was even talking to him, he at first said nothing. Then he shrugged, turning away. "It was nothing," he replied, in that same artificially offhanded tone. It was nothing. Pinball straightened himself proper and kept his eyes ahead as they walked, clearing his mind. They were almost out of the city now, and it was about time Pinball did the job he'd signed up for. He felt a brief stab of panic through his heart, and some voice in the back of his mind doubted if he'd actually be able to do what he'd set out to. As it so happened, he'd never actually searched for a labyrinth before -- his skills were usually reserved for the targets of his worried clients. 

But he pushed through it easily. At the end of the day it didn't matter what he thought himself capable of. Cardinal did it for him. 

His eyes glinted with light, shining green and yellow as the mesh of the world was revealed to him. He considered the paths laid out before them and picked the one he thought was best, noticing a treasure chest not at all far off the beaten path in the direction they were heading. Pinball paused for a moment, hesitating, and then shook his head, pressing forward. He wouldn't look back to check if anyone else had noticed it or not. 

"We've only just started," he said, explaining himself unprompted. "Don't need to take a detour already. This way." 

There would be plenty more opportunities for loot on their journey there, he was sure. 

Labyrinth Search: ID#209734 
LD: 11+18= 29 (Sussy Treasure Chest found, and ignored)
   29/300 LD Rolled 

[373]

He'd taken his time glancing the two over, and thought he had a pretty fair grasp on the situation. As such, he was aware of a couple things. 

Nari was unfamiliar to him. But that wasn't entirely surprising. While it felt like the rate at which new players arrived at the frontlines had slowed when compared to when he'd started, there would always be a somewhat steady stream of new faces arrived ready to fight. There had to be. Without them... well, things would get pretty bleak, pretty fast. Her skepticism was warranted, he'd suppose, if she'd never heard of him -- or even more so if she had -- and Pinball, for the most part, kept his eyes on her. "Not unless there's reason to worry about you," he replied evenly. He'd match her gaze until she pulled away. The message was clear enough: he didn't have interest in causing trouble, unless they felt like causing trouble for him. 

Throughout this, he was aware of Lessa and her reaction. Or lack thereof. It was the sort of thing you felt in the air around them, that sudden hush in a person that spoke louder than any one or two words. The stiffness in their posture. The intentional aversion of their gaze that betrayed their awareness. She'd been talking moments before he'd stepped up. Now her willingness to speak had seemingly left her. And although his heart certainly wasn't the hardest it had never been, Pinball knew better than to let his guard down. He kept the wall up, and people at an arm's length. There were many reasons for this. But despite that, he couldn't help but feel the sharp twinge of sadness that pierced his heart in those few moments. 

Of course this, including Pinball's icy demeanor, was all completely obliterated upon his arrival. 

"You're kidding me," he mumbled, reflexively yanking his hood further down his face. 

He had history with Dustin too. They went way back. Close friends, bitter enemies, unsuspecting allies; there wasn't any predicting how any one interaction between the two would go. This chaotic ebb and flow of their relationship exhausted him. Annoyed him? He wasn't sure exactly what it was, really, but there was a whole lot of something vaguely unpleasant he felt whenever Dustin showed up. Maybe. With a newer, more exasperated expression on his face, Pinball glanced in Dustin's direction, but didn't respond. The longer it took for him to recognize him, the better. Instead, he turned back to Nari, speaking quickly even as he stifled a sigh. "I'm a scout. I don't do combat, though. I can lead the way, but the fighting will mostly be up to you guys." He paused, then quietly added, "I'll try to help where I can."

Pinball turned away from the group, and started to walk. He swiped open a menu with his finger. Tapped through its interface. He thought of a spot that they could quickly stop by, and then considered the bounty of tooth-rotting, sugary feasts in his inventory. If the dangers of a scouting party had gotten any dangerous with the update, as most other things had, it'd do them well to leave prepared. 

"Let's get outside city bounds. I've got buffs for the party." 

                                                                                                                 
Pinball consumes a share of each Feast presented. 
Using House Buff: Filling on consumption of Pilk Feast: +3 LD -> +4 LD buff for Pinball 

Evasion Cake Feast: +2 EVA [#209562] -- (5/6)
Eye-Spy Cake Feast: +2 ACC [#209563] -- (5/6)
Pilk Feast: +3 LD [#209564] -- (5/6)
Chocolate Coins Feast: +3 Prosperity [#209565] -- (5/6)

[542]

Of all the floors he'd travelled, the twenty-seventh was most likely the one he'd frequented the least. 

It wasn't only because of its newness that he hadn't had the opportunity to check things out, but also because of what new floors attracted. Those on the frontlines tended to gather en masse to plan out their attack on the next boss. Information brokers, gatherers, merchants, and explorers all flocked to the wilds in search of fortune or adventure in some way, shape, or form. Consequently, the lower floors had a way of emptying out in comparison. It was quieter, and there were less crowds in the busier areas. That was how Pinball preferred things. A hermit, a vagrant, a guilty conscience; he wandered the floors aimlessly, without any real end in sight. 

Or at least that's how things were until recently. 

All that time alone had finally caught up to him. His regrets had grown too heavy to bear. He couldn't turn back time. Making things right was impossible. If he wasn't so cowardly, he would have let himself fall off the edge of Aincrad a long time ago. No -- it was precisely because of that cowardice that he returned to the communities of SAO (albeit quietly, and under a growing collection of false identities). Pinball had shifted gears. He'd gone from floor to floor and helped in whatever ways he could. He'd track down supplies for the weak, the scared, the young, the elderly. He'd find lost persons, or more often than not just the people who stopped messaging their friends or relatives they'd left behind on the lower floors. He never accepted reimbursement. He had trouble accepting thanks. If he couldn't fix the past -- if he couldn't reverse the atrocities he'd committed, and the hurt he caused -- then the absolute very least he could possibly do would be just trying to do better. It wasn't enough. It never would be. But it was something.

He'd wrestled with the idea of assisting the frontline effort for a long time. Ultimately, despite his distaste for the majority of people who fought there, and a relatively new aversion to any form of combat, he'd decided to include himself in the next labyrinth search that popped up. Would he regret it? Maybe. Would he back out at the last minute? Nah. 

Even if one of the people there, he'd quickly realize, were one of the many he'd wronged in some way or another. 

Still, he came up beside them. He was a tall, dark, and gangly sort of young man with a tired look in his eye and a general droop to his stature. He held a sword off in one hand, and wore a black, tattered cloak with a faded insignia over unarmored cloth.  The city was dark. Dark enough it made tiptoeing through settlements just a little easier to do. Pinball listened for a moment. Held his breath. And then he revealed himself. He moved slowly and spoke languidly, but kept a deceptively sharp gaze between them. "I can scout," he said. His eyes flitted from Lessa to Nari. "If you'll have me." 

And while the whole floor was draped in darkness and lit in a way that made colors a bit harder to distinguish, a cursor noticeably darker than most spun lazily above his head. 

Stats: 

[555]

Back once more. He wanted to help more. He needed to. It wasn't just about himself anymore -- not with what he was planning. If he wanted to last or make a difference in any way in the labyrinth search, consumables would be key. Pinball moved quickly. Using the Cook's ability to combine just two identical consumables into a feast for many, he created most of what he thought would be necessary in a crawl through unexplored territory, and then a bit more after that. As soon as he'd finished, he'd gather his things and hurriedly clean his shop. It wouldn't be much longer now. 

Crafting Evasion Cake Feast from #209532, #209532a -- Evasion Cake Feast: +2 EVA [#209562] 
Crafting Eye-Spy Cake Feast from #209552, #209552a -- Eye-Spy Cake Feast: +2 ACC [#209563] 
Crafting Pilk Feast from #209551, #209514b -- Pilk Feast: +3 LD [#209564] 
Crafting Chocolate Coins Feast from #209555, #209555a -- Chocolate Coins Feast: +3 Prosperity [#209565] 
Crafting Hard Candy Feast from #209509, #209509a ---  T4 Hard Candy Feast: +3 MIT [#209566] 

Name: Junk 
Your Profession: Cook
Your Rank: 7
Roll ID: [#209553] [#209554] [#209556]
Roll Result: 7/10 // 7/8 // 7/4 
Item Type: Dessert
Tier: 4
Quality: Uncommon  
Enhancements: +1 MIT 
Description: I hate it 
Post Link: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/15508-f8-r7-cook-~-closed-msg-4-order/?do=findComment&comment=653384

Name: Eye-Spy Cake 
Your Profession: Cook
Your Rank: 7
Roll ID: [#209552] [#209552a] 
Roll Result: 11/13
Item Type: Dessert 
Tier: Tierless
Quality: Rare
Enhancements: +2 ACC  
Description: Better than carrot cake. 
Post Link: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/15508-f8-r7-cook-~-closed-msg-4-order/?do=findComment&comment=653384

Name: Chocolate Coins 
Your Profession: Cook
Your Rank: 7
Roll ID: [#209555] [#209555a] 
Roll Result: 12/17
Item Type: Dessert 
Tier: 4 
Quality: Tierless   
Enhancements: +3 Prosperity 
Description: An assortment of flavored chocolate coins individually wrapped in gold foil. 
Post Link: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/15508-f8-r7-cook-~-closed-msg-4-order/?do=findComment&comment=653384

Name: Pilk 
Your Profession: Cook
Your Rank: 7
Roll ID: [#209551] 
Roll Result: 12/7
Item Type: Dessert
Tier: 4 
Quality: Perfect 
Enhancements: +3 LD  
Description: Pilk 
Post Link: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/15508-f8-r7-cook-~-closed-msg-4-order/?do=findComment&comment=653384

Purchasing: 
x2 T4 Blank Dungeon Map 

800 Col sent to Banker 

More consumables. More crafting. He had way too many materials to work with and way too much time on his hands, and ever since he'd stepped foot into his old workshop, the urge to cook had thoroughly had its way with him. So every morning, as early as he could, he made his way back into the kitchen and baked, mixed, and did whatever he wanted. Fizzy drinks and desserts were his preferred specialties -- anything and everything that could rot your teeth were what held his interest. It was a good thing most of the consumable buffs applied to desserts. 

DATE: 6/14/2022
Rank 7 Cook | Daily Crafting Attempts: 8 
Crafting T4 [Dessert]s
ID: 209551 | CD: 12 | LD: 7 | Perfect
ID: 209552 | CD: 11 | LD: 13 | Rare, x1 Extra 
ID: 209553 | CD: 7 | LD: 10 | Uncommon 
ID: 209554 | CD: 7 | LD: 8 | Uncommon 
ID: 209555 | CD: 12 | LD: 17 | Perfect, x1 Extra 
ID: 209556 | CD: 7 | LD: 4 | Uncommon 
ID: 209557 | CD: 1 | LD: 16 |  Fail 
ID: 209558 | CD: 3 | LD: 12 | Salvage, Success 

Result: +33 EXP | EXP: [1,107/1,279]
 

THREAD COMPLETE
Rewards:

<<Fisher>> Profession Unlocked
1 Gleaming Scale

Loot: 

8 Materials
Unidentified T4 Perfect Weapon
x2 T4 Rare Consumables

Experience and Col:

3,480 Words/10*4*1= 1,392 + 300 (Quest Reward) + 800 (Yui's Grace) +10% (Mega Slime Farm) = 2,741 EXP
2,741*15% (Paragon) + 150 = 561 Col

Pinball took a knee beside the chest's lock. He whistled. "Zomekko." 

Emerging from the jar was a cloud of shadow that quickly coalesced and took shape. The ghostly shade of a cat stood beside him as Pinball fiddled with a golden key and his lockpicks, staring up at its master with wide, empty eyes. He palmed the Golden Key, and without a word shared between them, Zomekko launched into the tree, her form warping and condensing to surround the golden key in an inky blackness. What was once gold was now an inky black, and Pinball stuck the key into the lock where it vanished, consumed, and a black smoke began to rise from the lock. Taking his tools, Pinball fiddled with the lock for a moment, felt them click, and then let the chest fall open, revealing his treasure. Zomekko promptly removed herself from the lock, reappearing in her semi-corporeal form beside him. 

Which... admittedly, wasn't much. But what could you really expect from Floor 1 loot? Kicking the chest to the side, Pinball pocketed his goodies and hit the road. There was still much more to be done elsewhere. 

Opening Treasure Chest // Using Golden Key (+2)
ID# 209550 LD: 3+10= 13 

150 Col 
8 Materials
Unidentified T4 Perfect Weapon 
2 T4 Rare Consumables 

With that, the Quest Completion panel popped up in front of him, and Pinball made a quick tally of the results. Anthony Gill coldly turned away and busied himself with his supplies again. It was clear he didn't really want to talk to him, and that was alright. Pinball was about done talking to Anthony himself, at that point. He'd pretty much exhausted everything that could have been done. Preparing to leave, he took one last look at the scenery. He just really stopped to take it all in. To breathe it all in. 

But something shiny caught his eye. Nestled among Gill's assortment of crates and barrels of provisions and tackles was a chest that very obviously didn't belong there. Pinball glanced between the man and this chest before silently moving forward, shoving boxes aside, and began to drag it away from the pile. Gill didn't respond, but gave him the stink eye the entire time he pulled it away. 

Searching for Treasure Chest 
ID# 209549 LD: 19+11= 30 (Success!)