Freyd

Slouched in an overly comfy couch, empty tumbler slowly filling with melting ice at his side, Freyd stared at two translucent windows set to his default private viewing mode. It wouldn’t do to have people casually sneaking peeks over his shoulder and catching whiffs of sensitive business. Loose lips, indeed. It was the content of purest dichotomy split between the two that struggled to reconcile. On the left, a lovely and heartwarming invitation to visit Mari’s newly upgraded home. He’d been looking forward to it since it’s unexpected arrival. By way of contrast, an update from his man

A delightful, hearty cackle rang out across the post-apocalyptic scenery. She'd expected boastful bravado, but this was beyond the pale. "Tolerate? You have no idea what you're facing, do you?" Hood shaking side to side, even as the mysterious woman's shoulders shuddered with barely contained guffaws. "Allow me to enlighten you. Have a seat, just... don't dip your feel in the pool if you want to keep them." Waving a supple leather-clad hand through the air to summon a still image of the Monument of Life, a twist of the wrist reversed the image for better glancing. "People

Rumours were swirling through back channels that Magistrate Aldenbrook's filaments and fingertips had been snaking their way through Glyndebourne's back woods once again. Another purge of the Fire Woods found evidence that her insidious cabal of miniscule minions were working their previous mischief, but on a much lesser scale. Diligence would be key. Agents to be dispatched would monitor and report, managing the threat to keep it from weaving its was back into plague-like prominence, as it once had. Freyd, meanwhile, was looking forward to a quiet drink at the Naughty Pigeon. Sally's

“Uhm…just so yanno…I wouldn’t actually slap you that hard.” A quiet, berry-flavoured snort followed by slow lifting of azure eyes, worn, but not so easily defeated. Their mischief kindling beneath the rim of bushy grey and black brows as his face rejoined their tentative conversation. "I've done more than enough to deserve it, mistepping clumsily as I go. Sometimes, it's the only way we learn." Admission to them both for past failings, and those inevitably yet to follow. Freyd wasn't perfect. He stumbled like everyone else, but held the bar high for reasons beyond the reach of

"How?" The solitary word hung lonely in the silence. If Lancaster expected to get off the hook with empty promises, he was reminded that this wasn't some random thug in a side alley. More than some dismissive handwave was required. A mess had been made. His mess. His exposure. And he'd be made to squirm like his own subordinates, save without fire. A pall of dignity was preserved through the lack of obvious audience. Were this truly a reckoning, other fingers would be present to see the example made. A handful of digits, swiftly removed, might have been tossed as an offering to the u

Scouring the underwater ruins near Raitoboru Bay had proven less than fruitful. Any hopes of finding some connection between the Sahagin and various eldritch horrors from Ilridge and surroundings had produced only one thing: a very waterlogged Whisper who longed for a sunny beach and to remove the dive suit more passably calling itself his heavy armor. Dragging himself from the depths, Freyd groaned stiffly, rotating his right arm to loosen the effects an ocean's weight worth of compression had placed upon his joints. "Guess I should just be grateful for the water breathing potions and

ph ***

"FUCK YOU ALL!!!" Akir's rage bowed trees and grass alike away from her like a microburst snapping the wind in a sudden rotation all around them. The spontaneous proto-tornado wrenched the chains from her companion's grasp, loosening all hold upon the raging gloopy mess-of-a-Mari, who promptly tore the barbs from her inky flesh and hurtled them back at their bearer. Something akin to a tentacle spun around, spawned from nothing and existing only long enough to snare a wide-eyed Mari and toss her into Akir's only remaining way out: right through Montjoy. Detached from his caster in the c

Studying their opponent while the others battered it with their coordinated assaults, Freyd was watching for telltale systems signs. Blood and fire. Something about the way the boss' wounds were shaping led him to think there might be some added weight to the concepts. Unfortunately, none of them carried the right gear any longer to do much about bleed damage, but he and Foyle had access to fire. The archer had no luck on his more randomly triggered attack, preferring to crack the nut for the rest of them to break through instead. "Guess that means I get to light the match." Charging

"This was... not what I expected." The same held true for the rest of them. Far from some fire and brimstone infested underground torture chamber, they passed through the portal to find themselves in a farm field like so many others they'd seen during their sojourn around Ronbaru. A grain of some sort, unfamiliar to him, but closely resembling wheat, grew all around them. "So, where do we go now?" Freyd and Foyle exchanged glances, unsurprised that their academic friend had deciphered the initial puzzle, but struggled the moment he was actually in the thick of it. Ren was always

"Prudent and wise. Event-related content can be unpredictable. Thanks for letting us know immediately, Ren." Freyd was already passing around hot treats to warm their bellies before they entered the newly found gateway. "We found four of these sets. Presumably, each can be combined to open a similar portal. Everyone has teleport crystals? Good." Glancing over his companions, Freyd was grateful for an unexpected reprieve from combat near the outskirts of Ilridge. They were holding, but gaining nothing. It was exhausting, and even the most stalwart required rotation away from the f

“Akir…” Freyd knew where Montjoy’s title had come from: the haughty and ill-fortuned herald of a doomed army, ultimately compelled to eat his own words and suffer the ignobility of defeat to a lesser. What would this one’s story be, he wondered? “I’ll be your family, my sweet Montjoy.” There was a time when Freyd would have worried that his other half would have been tempted by her words, but Montjoy had too long served as his own conscience to so easily abandon the moral persona that had become his centre. Ever the pragmatists, both of them, Montjoy’s strength came from the h

"Isn't it curious, mio amico, that even with all of these other busy bees, that this bothersome nuisance should find its attentions drawn to our activities through completely random and alternative means?" Even through the audio distortions, her meaning was clearer than a cold, still Austrian lake on a winter's morn. Despite the oppressive literal furnace heat surrounding them, there was a sudden chill in the air, like the void before them had suddenly cooled its temperament. "It wasn't Bran's zeal, or Rosaria's entourage, or even Tybalt's deliberate distractions that required my direct att

It took more coaxing than expected, or that he would have liked, but Mari had at least managed to place the mask over her head and protect herself after the dark thing spilled from her guts in thick, viscous spurts onto his lap. It should have disturbed him. It would traumatize most people. Freyd filed it away for future forgetfulness, like a mental wood chipper-shredder for inconvenient truths and memories. There was a job to be done here. Letting his alter ego take the lead, at least it felt like it was part of him this time, and not some wayward doppel copy run amok, like the slime

"Nothing is ever too trivial, consigliere. But you know that." Unspoken, the obvious inference to Lancaster's own recent dalliances. It was both warning and permission in a single untaken breath. A missing explanation implied. Fingers were permitted their own diddling so long as goals were achieved. Loose ends, however... those might need to be tied off with a tourniquet, left to wither and die. Fingers themselves often didn't bear well against amputation, and functionality was too readily lost. Better a thousand thousand cuts to make the point. "What of the others? Know you of their

***SNAP!*** Freyd shook his head, finger pinching his nose as the vaunted raid boss made one of the classic blunders by shifting forms in plain sight. Mina had been locked in his sights since Yuki had stepped forth to engage with the enemy. "Ugh... I'm gonna go out on a limb here, gang, and tell you all that this here's our real healer." Thumb jerked over his left shoulder, he could still feel the pulsing power from her earlier buff tethering the group back to its point of origin. "Pro tip," he added, addressing the false vision and pointing a stray finger up towards his rig

Fire burns hottest before being smothered beneath its own ambitions or falling to the cannibalistic consumption of the very fuel it needs to survive. Fire it warmth. Fire is light. It is also fleeting, always and inevitably fading back to the eternal, silent stillness of night. Thus it was that the stage was poignantly set amidst the stagnant black blight known as the Font of Abhorrence on the outskirts of Fourteen. Said to be the origin of tragic calamity, there could be no better reminder of the stakes and themes for the day's discussion. Night had already set over the wrecked fuming w

“Freyd. You’re too analytical and smart sometimes.” “Sometimes?! Try always.” Hardly a revelation. They both knew it. Assurances and acknowledgements followed. It wasn’t her sincerity he doubted. It was her actions. Mari often said the right things, then went the wrong way anyway. It was her pattern, and so unrelentingly reliable you could plot your course by it. That’s what really bothered him. “If things progress. I promise. You’ll know." Misunderstanding. “I’m not your keeper, Mari, and hope I’m not coming across like I’m trying to be. You’re happier than I’ve ev

“I prefer Gooplinetics.” Eyes scanning her as she pulled the tatters of her shambliness together. Freyd knew full well what had transpired here. What concerned him was with whom, and whether she'd tell. Since he’d known her, Mari had consistently displayed colossally poor judgment. It had driven a wedge between them before, with a chaser of ChaseR as accelerant. To have found her knocked out and experimenting with virulent disease like it was a fresh tin of Playdough, after stumbling alone on the twenty ninth floor, had hardly settled his concerns. Darker tides in his brain threat

“Freyd…” He snorted. “Can’t be. Freyd would be way less clunky and loud than someone wearing all this ridiculous hockey paraphernalia. Although, I dunno… maybe I should have it chromed, since the subtle look seems to be out this season.” Even in the dourest of moments, and delivered deadpan, he couldn’t quite help himself. Hair tussles, features flushed and the surroundings more than slightly singed, Freyd raised an eyebrow as if to beg the inevitable question. A vague explanation given that did nothing to explain how this was some old favorite haunt, unless… the memorie

Last scion of the stray berry clan pinned and prone in a bed of smeared yogurt, Freyd stayed its execution as motion stirred beneath his other set of fingertips. Azure orbs articulating to the starboard, they caught a glimpse of dainty turtling, then felt the slow reprieve of spite snake its tendrils outward. So… maybe he could sleep in his own bed tonight, after all? Eyes still downcast, as if it might somehow make him invisible if he denied anything eye contact, he silently thanked the last of the granola gods that Reliq was snoring in the vacated cookie jar, sounding oddly like rice c

Dismissing the beacon of warmth and ghostly illumination with the wave of black plated gauntlet, Freyd breathed deep the damp, dead darkness of the dulled sea. Roiling, yet flat, it’s surface revealed no evidence of depth. Salt wafted, stinging the tongue. Like bitter tears welling up from the tainted land itself, a notion occurred that the island might be wading in a soup of its own liquidated mobs. A lovely thought. Eyes adjusting to absence near instantly, light’s vacation felt more familiar than ever. That alone was already disturbing. Mina barked her orders. Her hand’s blessing we

Pantry restocked, dust bunnies hunted to extinction, dried wood and kindling freshly chopped and stacked, Freyd was surprised by how much effort such a small house required after so long an absence. Devoting his uniquely obsessive resolve to housekeeping ensured the results were beyond meticulous. He'd even left a stash of Hollandaise and honey buns in a basket on the counter and a note under her sheltered mirror that read: 'It's here when you're ready.' Time spent with Elora had taught him to value the simpler pleasures of domestic life and how the littlest touches could hold power beyo

ph *** Start of new combat rotation. Double post permitted.

ph *** Frey'd Action: Enemy's Action