Oscar

Oscar had nothing to refute Lessa's jab. He had overplayed his ribbing about their first encounter a bit too much and now he was suffering for it. Well, more accurately, Lessa was suffering for it. He clicked his tongue, his gaze narrowing on the task at hand. He hooked his foot under his weapon, kicking it into the air in a rapid spin. Alright now. Deep breath. Eyes closed, lungs filled. Chaos Eater slowed and began to descend. Oscar's hand bolted out and took hold of the haft. Exhale. Eyes open. Focus. His target was the size of a barn and he needed to tag it at least once if he wanted to keep pace in this Hate race. Oscar dashed into range, keeping as low as he could to prevent a repeat of the last attempt.

Chaos Eater flashed as the blade drove deep into the giant's thigh. The sheer density of Ugzeke's muscles held fast to the keen edge. Feeling resistance, Oscar dug in his heels and poured on even more steam. Flesh resisted at first. It was as if carving through solid stone. Oscar pushed in, Chaos Eater trapping itself further. He paused for a brief moment, stepped forward, and ripped the weapon towards his front. Had this been reality, Oscar would have probably found himself showered with crimson as his weapon tore its way free.

For all of his efforts, the giant didn't seem to be very concerned with the gash Oscar left. Indeed, the creature stalked (as much as a giant could) towards Lessa. He raised his club over his head and brought it down and around, swatting the blonde warrior like a human-sized golf ball towards the nearest wall. In an ironic role reversal, it was Oscar that was stepping in to halt her involuntary momentum. As she'd done once in the dunes of Floor 5, Oscar moved quick and plucked her out of her crash course with the cavern wall by the arm. He pulled and pivoted, swinging Lessa out and around and back onto her feet. Such a maneuver would invariably rip his shoulder from its socket in the real world, but it seemed well within the realm of possibility within the confines of their prison.

"Things don't seem to be going to plan," Oscar said calmly as he dusted off his suit. "Call a Switch. Your health is too low."

‘’Keep up the preeassure! We are taking him down.’’

And they most certainly were. Oscar was surprised at the rate in which the team they'd put together was shredding the boss. They were even down a member to boot! Heeding Zandra's words, Oscar rushed forward, Tesseleth's Fury ablaze with ebon fire. He stepped forward, entering into a batter's stance. And like a trained baseball player, Oscar swung up and around. His axe clocked Hrym under the chin, a burst of black fire punctuating the blow. The already-battered health bar of the giant took another significant dip as Oscar's blow connected, leaving the creature open for one of his allies to deal the killing blow. With much pomp and fanfare, Oscar stepped aside and beckoned the path up to the boss in an overstated and haughty manner. If he’d had a trumpet, he would have heralded the potential last hit with a blast from it.

"Alright, who's gonna get that last hit?"

Against a crew of high-level players, even mobs such as these couldn't be remotely considered a challenge. Though they mobbed and flailed around them, the hideous congregation were cut down the moment they entered into range. The party moved through the waves of afflicted horrors, their blades singing in all directions. Together, the four of them made their best rendition of a blender and it showed. Through the din of melee, Oscar heard a voice call out:

"A little distraction?"

Haine had found herself annoyingly gummed up by a trio of Diseased Ones. A brief look at their health bars almost made Oscar chuckle. He stepped forward, Money Shot glinting in the crimson twilight and carving a path through the enemies. One by one, the foes shattered as glass, leaving the blue haired warrior free to proceed. "Watch your feet," Oscar began as he draped his weapon over his shoulders. "Never know what you'll wind up stepping in."

Oscar knew that Hell would rain down upon the trio upon Ox's death, but he couldn't have prepared himself for it to be so soon. A one desolate swamp was now a hot spot of action. Red crystals aplenty shimmered into view. The first had commited to his attack, but was met with powerful resistance from the Red Wanderer. The rest, it seemed, elected to break their stealth and watch the demolition of their comrade. As Raidou handled his "opponent" in a brutal fashion, Oscar took in his surroundings. One... Three... Five... Se- Oh twelve. The first into the fray fell to the ground and shattered like glass. Eleven. Was this really the best Tyson had to throw at them? 

It doesn't matter.

Oscar was no longer Oscar. He was no longer the man who built others up. His compassion burned away into wrath. His goals extended far beyond his feud with Tyson. He was The Beast now. Nothing short of the extermination of the unredeemable could satiate his appetite.

"Gah!  I knew it!  I should have gone with my gut and brought my vacation shirt!  Oscar, you always bring on the very best romps.  Let's do this thing."

Oscar flashed a grin at his compatriot. "Very well."

Oscar raised Tesseleth's Fury above his head. The black flames of the Tyrant roared to life around the obsidian blade. They roiled and writhed, screaming to pass judgement upon the afflicted. They were in it now. Regardless of how this played out, Firm Anima was now drawn into this feud. And, because of that, he could offer nothing but his very best. His most powerful. His greatest brutality. And with a single downward slice of his blade, such was delivered.

A sea of red swallowed up into a sea of black. Like a tsunami, ebon fire crashed down into their midst. Some, he guessed, would have the presence of mind to get out of the way. Others would not be so wise or so lucky. Through the chaos, he watched as three health bars drained to zero. Three lives snuffed out. He hadn't bothered to get their names. They would be mourned in the real world. Their real families would bury their real bodies, ignorant of the pain they had caused others; of the blood on their hands. But in here, in Aincrad, they would get what they truly deserved.

They would be forgotten. No one to mourn. No one to care. Such was their fate.

On 2/17/2021 at 1:01 PM, Snow said:

Oh! Can I take the:

<<FROSTED NECKLACE>> - (T3 PERFECT TRINKET) - ID: 154770
     ➥ LIFE MENDING
     ➥ REC
     ➥ REC

It would help me out when I get up to the T3 Heal/Tank build I'm looking to do! I'm only T1, almost T2, so it really won't help me currently so... Just checking!

If you've been waiting for permission, you're fine to take this item. I'd been checking the thread semi-frequently to mark off items as they were taken and this is the last one. Enjoy.

The following items are up for grabs. One item per person, please:

<<IVORY GOLD LEAF RING>> (T1 DEMONIC TRINKET)
     ➥ACC
     ➥ ACC
     ➥ EVA
     ➥ EVA

<< TACTICAL OUTFITTING MK.III >> (T3 DEMONIC LIGHT ARMOR)
     ➥ VAMPIRIC (DEFENSIVE)
     ➥ PARALYTIC IMMUNITY
     ➥ REC
     ➥ REC

<<SHINING BATTLEAXE>> 2HBA (T3, DEMONIC)
     ➥ HOLY
     ➥ BURN
     ➥ +3 DMG
     ➥ +3 DMG

<<FROSTED NECKLACE>> - (T3 PERFECT TRINKET) - ID: 154770
     ➥ LIFE MENDING
     ➥ REC
     ➥ REC

<<SPEAR OF THE WARRIOR>> - (T3 PERFECT 2HAS)
     ➥ ABS.ACC
     ➥ ACC
     ➥ ACC

<<MONEY SHOT>> - (T3 PERFECT 2HBA) - ID: 155241
     ➥ ABSOLUTE ACCURACY
     ➥ ACCURACY
     ➥ BLEED

Oscar returns << Tessleth's Fury >> T3 Demonic 2HBA - 2FLN/2BRN  to @Zandra. Many thanks for letting me hold onto it.

Now it was a party. With the Shadow seeming to abandon his flesh suit in order to take the Raid on personally, Oscar couldn't help but feel excited for what else the fight would bring to bear. But, it seemed that they were being a bit of breathing room by the System. The boss hadn't elected to make a move. A perfect time to Meditate if Oscar had ever seen one. Rarely was one afforded such an opportunity as this. He closed his eyes, channeling his focus into replenishing his vital energies. All of that being a fancy way of saying that he activated the skill and waited for the conditions to be fulfilled. If, somehow, the boss got a preemptive strike on the lot of them, then this wouldn't restore much more Energy than a Recovery proc. He felt fairly confident that he could let his guard down in the moment, however. Even if he couldn't, his energy bar had been shredded by trying to stabilize Ariel. If the party needed healing, he felt more confident in being in the position to do it himself. With any luck, he would nearly fill his bar back up before the fight resumed.
 

Oscar rather felt like a dog chasing a car. Now that he had it, he didn't know what to do with it. It would be useless to ask the man how much he knew, now that he had time to think about it. Oscar had to assume that Tyson knew everything. The more important question was what was going to happen now. Oscar's eyes narrowed, his steely gaze locking onto the unfortunate man. "We found you. What's the plan for that? I know he has one."

The man's shaking stopped. Oscar must have reminded him of something. He threw his head back, cackling madly. Oscar waited patiently for the man to cease. There wasn't any point in pushing any harder. If he just stood there, feigning confusion, the man wouldn't be able to help but gloat. He had knowledge the three of them lacked and given his situation, he would be just itching to share it. "You guys are so fucked," he said. "If something happens to me, the boss'll just send someone to wipe you out. Won't be like Megin-Fi's gang either. You won't stand a chance."

Oscar cracked a smile. "So you're saying that if I kill you, Tyson finally brings his big guns out to play?" Tesseleth's Fury shot to the man's neck. "Good. I was getting tired of the petty shit." Oscar grabbed the man by the collar and threw him some distance away. Just far enough to be considered out of the safe zone. Before he could rally, Oscar was upon him. He pinned the man to a tree, stabbing him with one of the fangs of Hebinishu he'd obtained from a prior completion. To his credit, the man managed to fight off the paralysis, but his health was fading fast. "You got two options here. One, you call in your goons now. Two, you die and they show up anyway. There's only one option where you get to walk out of this. You haven't actually hurt anyone. You have one chance. Make your decision quickly, though. That poison looks nasty."

The fear sank in once again. As his health bar approached zero, the man lifted one trembling hand to access his menu. Then, it balled into a fist and he delivered a punch to Oscar's face. A move of pure defiance. Oscar sighed. "Very well. Your name's Ox. I'll remember that. You picked the wrong side, but loyalty is always commendable." Then, Oscar delivered a blow of his own. Combined with the poison, the damage was just enough to end the man. His avatar shuddered for a moment. Glitching out before inevitably shattering. Another name would soon be carved into the Monument. Oscar turned to Raidou and Freyd, his expression softening into one of apology. "I should apologize here for roping you guys into this mess of mine so suddenly. I'd hoped I would have time to explain things before we got jumped. I'll understand completely if you two want to get clear. They're after me anyway. If you stick around there's going to be a fight and I can't speak to whether we'll walk out of here." he said.

Just as Oscar was about to launch into his explanation, Raidou appeared suddenly on the platform. He opened his mouth to greet him when Raidou suddenly yoinked a dude out of a tree. It didn't take much interrogation before the man tapped out and spilled the beans. All this time, Oscar had a feeling that there had been eyes on him at all times. The moves that had been made against him just seemed too precise otherwise. More recently, however, Oscar had begun to question his own sanity. Even in the face of all of the evidence, the fact that it hadn't been confirmed had weighed heavily upon him. That weight was immediately lifted as he felt absolutely vindicated by the discovery of his stalker. In a flash of light, Tesseleth's Fury snapped into his hand. "Well, this is what I wanted to talk to you about Freyd. I was worried you guys might have thought I was crazy though." He took a step forward, resting the edge of his axe against the man's neck. "Clearly that isn't an issue anymore."

Oscar removed his weapon from his collar and yanked him up by his shirt. Lifting him up to eye level with one hand, Oscar bored a hole into the man's eyes. "I'm going to make this real simple. You saw what I did to that hit squad, right? You're going to spill everything you know or the three of us are going to re-enact that day in the woods. Only I'm going to take your legs first."

The color blanched from the man's face. He began to kick his feet - trying in vain to escape Oscar's hold. But not only was Oscar a vastly higher level, but he was also fueled with hate and rage enough to collapse a star. He wasn't going anywhere, but neither was this conversation. "Freyd. Buddy. You got any enhanced interrogation techniques we can use? I think I broke this guy's brain," Oscar said.

Oscar could at least breathe easy on his own inside the bounds of the safe zone. He sat down on a bench to await Freyd and Raidou's arrival. As he did, he couldn't help but allow his mind to wander. He'd been doing a lot of that lately. He was pretty sure he would look like an absolute mess right now if the system allowed for it. Hair disheveled, unkempt beard, blood-shot eyes. The works. He hadn't really explored the implications of his departure from Tarot as thoroughly as he should, but he had expected some growing pains as he knocked the rust off and started to get his hands dirty again. Of course, this whole new dichotomy of his freedom of movement between having a Guild backing him and not threatened to put an end to the whole operation. He didn't know how he'd convince Raidou to let him join Firm Anima, but he knew that he had to. It would probably exhaust every iota of clout Freyd had with the group if he chose to vouch for Oscar. That was a whole other beast that couldn't be considered right now.

Eventually, Freyd burst into existence upon the floor in a flash of light. Oscar rose from his seat and strode over, plastering a smile on his face as he greeted his friend. "Hey Freyd," Oscar began as he offered his hand. "Been a minute. What's new?"

Quest

Oscar hadn't gotten out of the house in a while. Given how everything had gone down recently, he'd decided to stick himself indoors for a while. At least long enough to formulate a plan beyond "kill them all." He really hadn't got very far past that. Going stir-crazy in his home, Oscar knew that he needed some fresh air. Or, at least, what amounted to "fresh air" in this game. That, and he needed supplies. His weapon of choice didn't avail him very well when it came to fighting other players due to the fact that it only came stocked with damage and not much else. An idea had formed - vaguely, but an idea nonetheless. There was a certain Field Boss that dropped a consumable item that could offer him some stun potential on his weapon. Given that he had none - and the fact that getting the SP together to spend on a different, more suitable weapon - was unlikely at this juncture, Oscar decided to take it on. But he wouldn't go alone. Much to his chagrin, Bahr had been right. It was difficult to move when an entire organization could come crashing down on him at any moment. It seemed that he needed backing from a Guild regardless. If only he'd considered that before he carved a chunk out of Bahr's ass. Regardless, he was still on good terms with another Guild. Friends with their members, even. Perhaps they could come to some mutually-beneficial arrangement. But first things first.

Quote

To Freyd:
Heading to Floor 16 to farm Snake Venom. Perhaps an Intermediate Dungeon after. Up to you. Maybe bring Raidou along. I got a business proposition.

With that sent, he gathered his things and made his preparations. Mega Slime Farm? Check. Hot Dog? Check. Statue? You better believe that was a check. And then he headed out. This time, he dashed straight to town in a dead sprint. Lowering the likelihood of him being attacked before he could even get out and about seemed prudent. He stepped onto the platform and disappeared in a flash of light, carried off towards Floor 17.

Now that the chains were broken, the goon squad could get back to what they did best: curbstomping this psycho bitch into the ground with extreme prejudice. Freyd and NIGHT paved the way for Oscar to get his licks in. Considering her penchant for dominance, Oscar thought the sudden reversal of fortune was ironic. He strode forward confidently, dragging Tesseleth's Fury along the ground as ominously as he could. Which - as it turned out - was quite so. A goliath of a man dressed in a suit walking toward you with a wicked-looking axe dragging along behind him? Yeah, pretty spooky. Another reversal on what was supposed to be a Halloween-themed dungeon. Was the larger message here that the Players were the real monsters? Probably. Oscar didn't register that thought, though. Instead, he carved a deep gash into Hel's side punctuated with a streak of black fire.

Oscar had tuned out the lion's share of the boss's gloating. There was just something about railing against a non-sentient entity that just didn't do it for him. So, instead, he focused on more tangible pursuits. Like continuing to heal Ariel who - at this point - was out of the danger zone. While Oscar was certain that another hit from Orgoth wouldn't absolutely demolish her, he wanted everyone to be as full as possible without overhealing them. Conscious of his energy value, he'd realized that the previous Field Medic had cost him almost the exact same amount of Energy as a full AoE cleave. Oscar simply couldn't sustain that level of healing output - least of all not without the literal mountain of Recovery foods that he had completely forgotten to add to his Battle-Ready.

Regardless, a single First Aid would get Ariel out of the danger zone and quell the "Friend Hurt" sensation that was radiating from his amygdala that was sparking over his brain. His hands took on a green glow as he approached Ariel. It wasn't until he was about to touch her and allow the healing energies to flow into her character that he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He quickly turned his gaze toward the thing. Then he froze for a moment.

It was him.

In a maid outfit.

And it was the sexiest goddamn thing he had ever seen in his life. His heart actually (not actually, his avatar was basically polygons) skipped a beat. He blinked once. Then twice. On some level, Oscar still hadn't forgotten that his goal was to heal Ariel. But it was purely subconscious in the face of this glorious sight. So, he did apply his hands to Ariel. Specifically, to her face. To push her out of the way so he could get to himself. As he stepped past Ariel, the mirage disappeared. Oscar frowned. Can't have nothing in this game!

But perhaps not. The Shadow had conjured this vision in an effort to mock Oscar. It had completely missed. Oscar may have not been able to add two more notches to his bedpost in some weird paradoxical mystic way, but he could definitely fuck with Shadow. Because that was his thing to the public at large. Jokes, memes, and hot dogs. Oscar grinned and looked up towards the ceiling at nothing in particular. He inhaled deeply and then bellowed:

"Joke's on you buddy! I'm into that shit!"

Because, honestly. If you don't have self-confidence, what do you really have? Is having the self-confidence to find yourself attractive enough to do bedroom stuff with not the goal? Oscar vaguely registered some noise about Teleport Crystals not working. Not entirely unexpected. But Oscar was confident. Not just in himself but in the fact that the group they had assembled was competent enough to not need to Teleport in the first place.

PARTY I

PARTY II

"Fantastic choice," Oscar said as he handed off one of the sandwiches. Deftly maneuvering the conversation away from the heavy stuff, he led the way down to the bench and took a seat. Ever the gentleman - or at least someone with a modicum of common courtesy - he politely waited for Jevi to join him before he began to unwrap the monstrosity that he had created. Oscar like to make his dishes as true to form as possible within the bounds of the game. A sandwich like this defied the laws of physics and portion size. A bun - no matter how well it was made and toasted - simply would not be able to hold the volume of meat, cheese, and veggies that he had crammed into it. Of course, this was no different than turning a literal pile of diamonds into a feast that provided a Mitigation buff so perhaps he didn't stay as close to reality as he thought. Regardless, the moment he took his first bite, the juices started flowing. Quick as a flash, he produced a napkin from his pocket and elegantly dabbed away the rendered fat from the corners of his mouth. Another feat that should not have been possible was eating this sandwich without wearing half of it. That was more a matter of skill than any system preventing the accidental implosion of his culinary magnum opus. If ever there had been an elegant method of eating a Philly Cheesesteak, Oscar had discovered and mastered it.

As one does when experiencing good food, Oscar was silent throughout the meal. Pulling oneself away from eating for conversation was indicative of a poorly-crafted dish. He polished off the sandwich in short order, balling up the foil and tossing it away. The item shattered like glass upon the ground as he went into his inventory and produced two glass bottles with a red striped label. He offered one to Jevi with a slight grin? "Coke? It's about as close as I can get without an alchemist's skillset." He popped the lid from his own bottle and took a swig. It was good, but it was still off. He made a mental note to bug Warren and moved on - there was nothing to be done.

"So," he began. "Where are you from? I know talking about real life is considered bad form, but the game is just ones and zeroes. Being as this is still technically a date, date questions would be on the table no?"

"Yeah it's kinda shitty," Oscar admitted. "I couldn't imagine doing this solo either. These Drakelings are just sticky enough that my base damage isn't enough to put me over the top. If I'm good at judging health bars, which I'm not, even if I came in with the maximum possible damage buffs available to me, they would still survive by a sliver of health." Oscar swung into a trio of Drakelings - one softened from Bahr's AoE and two fresh. The first exploded as his axe came into contact with its model, its skin flying free of its corpse and landing like a hot towel over Bahr's face. It was as if Aincrad were trying to hide the Crimson Marauder's visage. Perhaps it frightened and disturbed these juvenile drakes? Either way, one more Drakeling had died and yet another had been added to the pile. "Hey, maybe we'll get lucky and you'll get two in one go from these guys?"

"What would you have me do, Bahr? Tyson's doing all of this because he thinks he can get away with it. Because the first time he shot me - yes, shot me - I showed restraint and took him in. He mistook my mercy for weakness. Me swinging back? Taking out his gang? That's the absolute last thing he expected," Oscar said. "You live in a different world, Bahr. You've never had your conscience die bit by bit while you worked with scum of the earth just to put food in your belly. Have a night with a roof over your head. I was lucky enough to hold onto mine long enough to fall into the hands of someone who gave a shit." Oscar put away his weapon as Bahr did, both of their tastes for the conflict turning to ash in their mouths. Much to his surprise, Bahr was the first to concede. It wasn't the win he wanted, but he would take it. At least if it meant they came to half of an understanding. "But, as I said, this isn't just about Tyson. It's about the Orange Guilds that prey on Players just trying to make their way in this game. This is about those Assassin Guilds who exist solely to kill others. I don't know which Tyson's group is yet, but I intend to find out. Psychopaths don't fear prisons Bahr. Prisons are guarded by people. People can be bought and manipulated. They are by no means a guarantee. I intend to send a clear hardline message that if you go out of your way to kill other Players without remorse, I will put you in the ground. Eye For An Eye is the only justice we can count on here. I would hope that you would do the same for me if I ever fall too far." 

With that, Oscar held a teleport crystal aloft and allowed it to transport him back to his usual haunt in Deepedge. There was nothing more to be said between the two of them. Oscar was going down a path that Bahr couldn't follow. With everything that had transpired between them today, it seemed like there was only one thing left to do. He swiped with his right hand, opening his menu. After navigating through a few interfaces, a message box popped up before him:

His fingers lingered over the confirmed button for a long moment. Even after everything he'd said and done, it was still one hell of a cord to cut. Regardless, it needed to be done. He pressed the button, confirming his resignation from the Guild. Perhaps this would be enough to keep them out of Tyson's crosshairs. At least until Oscar could come up with a more permanent solution. Chances were though that the permanent solution would forever stain him in the minds of his friends - cursing him even as he fought so hard to keep them safe. Indeed, Oscar was going down a path Bahr couldn't follow. For this was a fight for him and him alone.

Thread Summary
Oscar and Bahr both receive SP (2 for Oscar, 4 for Bahr), 200 Col, and a lot of hurt feels

This was an opportune moment to take some of the heat off of Lessa. If he could land a hit, then he could get Ugzeke to swing into him instead of his prone and defenseless companion. Maybe then they could get the fight back on track and according to plan. Of course, since he needed to tag the brute, the universe had different plans. As he swung his axe, the blade got caught into a random stone, jerking the weapon out of his hands. As Chaos Eater clattered to the floor, Oscar let out a groan of frustration. "Am I fucking drunk? I gotta be right?" A stream of expletives flowed freely from his mouth as he picked his weapon up. Mercifully, Ugzeke seemed rather confused, strained to make out either of the Players in the darkness. Perhaps it was because Lessa was stuck on the ground and Oscar had yet to land even the slightest of blows to the beast that it had trouble locating them. Given the way the fight was going at this point, Oscar wasn't going to look a small mercy such as that in the mouth. "Hey Lessa! Can you feel your toes yet? I think I made too many Sand Shark jokes because I'm on some rookie shit right now."
 

Oscar had brought up the rear, having to put away his cart and tools before delving into the bowels of the ship. To his surprise, the party had managed to deal heavy damage to the towering behemoth before Oscar had even stepped onto the main deck. ChaseR's sudden departure had left them down a source of damage but the boss was approaching the yellow at a rapid clip despite that. It wouldn't last an entire second round at this rate. He let out a sigh. I wasted all of that food on that dude. Fantastic. Rather annoying that a party member wasted all that food before dipping out suddenly. Promises of assistance were all well and good but Oscar had little faith that the dude would come through. He would make a point to remember this if their paths ever crossed again. He'd either get compensated for the food or he'd take a plug out of ChaseR's ass. But there would be time for grudges after the fight. For now, there was a giant that needed to be cut down to size.

His agitation seemed to resonate with Tessleth's Fury. He hefted the weapon, resting it on his shoulders as he strode onto the field. He could feel wrath radiating from the weapon, just itching for target to unleash itself upon. Oscar cracked a smile and spun the weapon down to a ready position. The blade sparked against the deck of the Naglfar, black fire roaring to life. He broke into a sprint, dashing past the rest of his party - leaving a trail of flames in his wake. He right foot came down. Oscar shifted his weight onto it. He stepped forward with his left, swinging his axe along an upward arc as he did. His strike caught Hrym on the chin, an explosion of black flame punctuating the blow. Hrym staggered backwards, throwing a blind fist out in response. Oscar danced around the attack, pivoting on his left foot and watching the blow sail past him. Hrym's health bar tanked firmly into the yellow. Not a bad first round.

With their mistress distracted by having her spine shattered by Night's attack, the rest of the party busied themselves on freeing the rest of the chained soldiers. To be completely honest, Oscar didn't know exactly how it affected the battle. All he knew was that when she was stunned or paralyzed, the chains on the soldiers became interactable. Obvious mechanics being obvious, clearly the thing to do was to try and get the remaining pair freed before the paralysis wore off. Freyd had freed one, so Oscar trotted over to the remaining one and started fiddling with the locks. He managed to get most of them undone, but the final lock remained absolutely obstinate. Oscar scowled and tossed the lock down in frustration, stepping away and gesturing to @Bahr. "I can't get the damn thing open man. Give it a shot real quick, will you?"

Oscar would not abide this harlot's existence any longer. If his mom groups on Facebook found out that he had stumbled upon this den of perversion and didn't do anything about it, they would cancel him on all of his social media, including Twitter. Oscar couldn't afford to be Twitter canceled. So, he rushed in and followed up Night's attack with one of his own. Tesseleth's Fury carved a dark arc through the air. Then, it sliced a deep red gash across the center of the boss's model. Then, he hopped back a few paces to leave room for his party's follow-up attack. Bahr liked to go balls deep and Oscar wasn't about to get caught up the whatever anime protagonist move the man brought to the table next. And then there was Freyd. Honestly, he had similar concerns about what Freyd would do. It was almost like they were living in an anime or something. 

Oscar sighed as Bahr delivered yet another strike. Oscar had spent all this time trying to convince Bahr that whatever opinion the man had formed of him hadn't been entirely accurate. He snapped his fingers, a pulse of emerald energy engulfing him. The energy seeped into his body, the red gashes still marring his avatar fading away as his health bar was topped off with his skill. "Were allies? I suppose you might be right. Consider this my resignation, then."

"I've told you before. When a child has a gun on you, they cease to be a child. They're a threat. All your 'no one has the right to be judge, jury, and executioner' isn't going to save you when he makes his move. You're drunk on your own power. Past victories against unthinking, unfeeling opponents have made you cocky. You think you can win against a conflict with Tyson and his organization because you've won every fight you've picked in this game. You haven't played his game though. Trashing my store? Kidnapping Conciliator? Those were love taps. I know what this child is capable of. You're expecting a straight fight. A one-on-one where you get carried by your flashy little sword. You won't even see him until he's already taken away everything you give a damn about. The Guild? It'll be gone. Lessa? She'll be dead. Where will your fight be when that happens? Your morals?"

Oscar looked up towards the sky. A flash of lightning lit up the horizon. One... Two... Three...

The clouds overhead began to rumble. A loud thunderclap resounded. Oscar spoke again, his voice half drowned out by the sound of thunder. Bahr would still hear him, but whatever eyes Tyson had to have on him wouldn't. At least, that's what Oscar hoped. "At least, if they think I don't care about you all anymore, I can buy you guys some time to prepare."

Oscar wasn't a martyr. He wasn't trying to be. But if he could take some heat off of them - even if he severely damaged his relationships in the process - it would be a role he would gladly fill. The rain began to abate, the storm disappearing. "This goes well beyond Tyson anyway. His isn't the only organization that wants to sow death and destruction among the players. I'm declaring war on all Players who wish only to harm the innocent. You can try to stop me but you and I both know that you aren't going to kill me."

"Well this is kinky," Oscar said. "Are we certain that the box rating was accurate? I don't much think kids need to be seeing a dominatrix and her three gimps." Good Christian values were something that Oscar only held close to his heart when it was convenient. When he needed to be outraged about something. And if the Christian Moms Against Video Games could see the scene that had unfolded before them, they would be apoplectic. They had to do something about this den of debauchery, boss fight be damned. It seemed, however, that saving the gimps from their unholy, torturous existence was part of the fight itself. Night freed one, his soul ascending towards the heavens now that it wasn't weighed down by the feminine wiles of Hel. Oscar made his way over to another of the soldiers and, with deft hands, undid the lion's share of the locks that bound him to this place. "Hold on, my brother. We will keep your virtue safe from this harlot."
 

Oscar laughed. "If that be the case, I might start manning the shop again. I really only show up to fill the occasional order. It would be nice to have some customers again." He left out the part about most of his business being driven away by the homicidal loose end from real life. Oscar slid the money back to Valentine and shook his head. "Keep it. The things I kill for Col drop far more than this in a fraction of the time. I'm not doing this to get paid. My business hasn't been profitable since I started it. 400 isn't gonna change that." Oscar said the last bit with a laugh. True, the odd request from Frontliners or questers gave him a small cash infusion, but it was all almost immediately spent via his acts of philanthropism around the game. Val's sum would be a drop in the bucket compared to what he'd already lost. It was mob grinding that kept him in the black. "I'll catch you later though. Like I said, if you need a hand on anything, you know how to reach me."

Thread Summary
Valentine - +3 SP [+1 Quest, +1 Page, +1 Bonus], 900 Col [500 Quest, 400 Page]
Oscar - +4 SP [+1 Page, +1 Bonus, +2 Mega Slime Farm]

His team's health bars resided in the upper-left corner of his vision. While everyone had taken some minor damage as a result of Orgoth's last attack, it wasn't enough to panic over. Even with the loss of their collective Battle Healing, the team could easily work through it. With one major exception. Like tumblers in a lock, each of the individual events that led to their tank being almost immediately reduced to under half of their health clicked into place. Oscar stopped cold and cast his gaze over to @Ariel - The Crowned Lion, exasperation plain on his face. Oscar didn't have the time to criticize the woman's rationale for switching out of her tank set. Or Howling in the first place. There would be time for that after the fight. For now, Oscar would press his thumb and middle finger together of his free hand and snap. Restorative energy pulsed out from his hand, washing over the members of his party and healing the wounds they had sustained thus far. Ariel was still too low for comfort, but they had another healer. Hopefully Zandra would be paying attention.

PARTY I

PARTY II