Freyd

"It's not a talent Freyd, it's using the right tool for the job --",

"...and a tool is only so good as its wielder's skill and devotion," he added, finishing the thought while gratefully accepting her assistance.  Listening as she dissembled and downplayed her own way of living, Freyd simply shook his head dismissively.  "My life has too much structure. Even though I go to lengths to keep it changing, my constant focus on business lends to its predictability.  You would never normally find me doing... this.  Which is precisely why I need to do so."  A strange sense of serenity pervaded Freyd's words as he spoke them, laden with an equal measure of yearning for the unknown.  The spark behind his eyes mirrored her features as they gazed upon Elora with joy.  She'd given him the same thing he had promised to give to others: hope.

"So... boxty is... potato pancakes?"  He had no idea what flapjacks were supposed to be, and so gave it his best guess instead. A handful of spuds were thrust into his arms before any further clarification could be obtained.

"While you're doing that, I'll get all the other shit together."  An eyebrow raised. I really hope she doesn't mean that literally.

A quick tactical analysis determined the optimal angle of attack.  Freyd was about to devastate his first tater when Elora gave him one of those 'you're kidding right' kind of look.  "Oh, right... gotta skin the things first."  A grimace mixed with consternation wrinkled and twisted his features with confusion.  "Don't they have a self-peeling variety?  Seems like a design flaw, at least in this world."  A mental note was already made to scour Aincrad for potential potato monsters that might better fit the bill.

As the last grated traces fell into the bowl provided to him, Freyd eyed the sole remaining spud with a festering sense of mischief.  "Mashed, eh? Seems you might have missed one."  Denying any time for protest, his art had been building since the previous spud met its maker, turning in tiny narrow strips. 

"Here.  Let me help a little." Cupping his hand around the tuber, Freyd focused the energy inward at his palm, momentarily wondering whether microwaves worked on a similar principle.  The results were definitely kin, spraying baked mash in a cone aligned directly with a pair of startled and widening blue eyes.

Laughter filled the room as Freyd nearly busted a gut at her suggestion.  It took a while before he could even mouth any words.

"Haine tried to teach me to cook once," he finally eked out between gasps.  "I used a sword art on a bunch of veggies and nearly destroyed half her kitchen."  A cautionary wave of his hand dismissed any notion that he knew the first thing about the valued trade, or that he was making any fun over her suggestions.  "Pre-packaged meals have been the norm for me, for as long as I can recall.  If you say you know how to make these things, then please teach me.  I'll do my best not to nuke our new home while peeling the potatoes."  It was a pure guess, regarding the ingredients, hoping that playing to Irish stereotypes might actually net him a win.  

"Come on," he requested with the gentlest of tugs.  "Show me all these special talents you have hidden away.  I can't wait to learn."  Barely taking a simple step towards the door, Freyd paused and looked Elora in the eyes, his eagerness still bubbling, but shelved for a moment's consideration.  "And, hey, there's never meant to be any pressure here between us. I just really want to spend time doing things like this with you, especially those that matter most to you. I've spent too long being laser-focused on game-related goals since we've been in here.  This is a chance to learn to live a little along the way.  You've taught me how important that can be, but I need your guidance along the way.  I hope that's okay?"

An earnest smile spread over his simple features, their sharp angles slightly dulled by uncharacteristic warmth and exposure to deep reservoirs of sincerity normally kept concealed and off limits to the world.  Don't be afraid, Elora.  I just want to see you shine by being yourself.

*SNAP*

The entire crowd focused in Freyd's fingers, as fully anticipated and desired.  It gave Persi precisely the opening she required.  Having snuck into the crowd while the pirates were busy cornering their elusive prey, Freyd placed her as a trump card immediately after Katoka shish-kebabbed his tawny coat with her katana.  Racing between a forest of hairy legs and pantaloons, the little shadow mongoose wormed her way up Ulric's leg to a combination of great surprise and consternation.

"What the... GAH!"

Most mobs panicked at the feel of inky shadows darting up their underpants.  Drell jumped, but almost instantly recovered, reaching below his belt with lightning speed and snaring the unwelcome guest with disturbing ease.  By the twitch in his eyes, he was ready to toss her over the edge and be done with her forever, but Freyd had likewise made his move.  Plans within plans.  Persi was just part of the distraction.  Even as the pirate captain pivoted for the throw, the Whisper's leg swept low to knock his legs out from under him.  Landing hard released his grip, allowing the agile mongoose to wring herself free and escape onto the skiff.

"Bahahaha!  Shaking your booty for the crowd, Drell?  I never knew you had it in you.  Is that what keeps the whores in line, or is it that you've just lost the least number of.. AARRGH"

Freyd just facepalmed.  Ryland's forearm had just attempted to swallow Drell'ls flung cutlass.  

"We need to get this done fast, Kat.  Or loudmouth over there will get himself killed."

A palpable, irate glower emanated from beneath the cowl, aimed the foolhardy Dockmaster's way.

***

Watching as dizzying motion whirled around the lumbering undead mob, Freyd's HUD spawned its own secondary layer, as if the machine mind within himself could further deconstruct each element and action.  Vectors and trajectories played out a projected potential, each analyzed and countered a dozen times over even as his limbs and torso took corresponding action.  He'd always been good with numbers, coolly calculating even under the most dire circumstances and blithely setting aside any emotional influence.  The Whisper's fury was dire by the utter cold and ruthlessness of its nature, and the precision of its application.

There.

A gentle tap on the wrist from an open palm skewed the mob's angle of attack by the merest fraction of degree.  It was enough to foster an opening just wide enough to sidestep under the monster's guard, brace his lower body and deliver a cutthroat strike with full force straight into the King's centre mass.  Samael's Pride obliged, both handwraps flaring blinding white as a pulse of purest force and energy was forcefully expelled and launched his enemy across the room with the concussive force of a miniature supernova.  It was the King's turn to leave his imprint on the wall, several bits of his dilapidated armor having been strewn and scattered all over the surround floor along the way.

"Better," Freyd mumbled to himself, content to have rediscovered his mojo and finally turned the tide.  "Might have been better yet if I'd actually remembered that you can't shatter his dumb ass."

No sooner spoken than the scattered armor floated back to the FTK-shaped impact crater to reform the boss' defenses.  Widening his stance and extending a hand in his best Morpheus guise, Freyd leaned into the borrowed imagery, hard.

"Bring it, Bob."  His fingertips beckoned the enemy to right itself and give him its best shot.

***

Smiling and listening attentively as she recounted her day's activities, something glimmered silently at her from behind the blueness in his eyes.  His cowl sat loosely resting upon his shoulders, the shield it represented equally lowered in a rare and deliberate moment of vulnerable exposure.  Only with her.  No one else had ever  truly reached so deep into his core, nor convinced him that there was someone in there worth finding... and rescuing.  Could that be the magic that had led them here, together?  Reflections glanced his way in the nearby window.  She is my opposite, staring back at me from the far side of the looking glass.

"I don't know where to start. How do you return to something you've haven't even started?"

There it was again, always present just below the surface.  Where he clung to the slightest semblance of fleeting feelings, hers ebbed and flowed like a tide, ever threatening to overwhelm.  

"I have no idea."  A plain admission and also honest truth delivered with mild chuckling.  "This is just as new to me, too. Think of how sparse and sterile my old place was. I haven't the slightest clue how to live a life I've never allowed myself."  Chasing off her doubts with smiling eyes and nod to the negative, he chuckled softly at their shared absurdity.  "Don't worry about it.  Just let it be."  Soothing her anxieties as best he could, it thawed his natural chill the moment she took his hand and reminded him of a recent impulse.

"Oh," he added with a growing nervous grin, "I might have scrounged a little something to help get you started.  Call it... inspiration."  Cheeks burning like they'd be lit by Cerberus' breath, a conjured bunch of ruby roses manifested in his hand.  "I found these at the base of the cliffs on my way back, clinging to an outcrop and misted by the spray of the falls.  I... Róisín..."  Words croaked and failed him as a lump caught in his throat, having no idea what he was doing, but hoping it was right.  Is this how it works?  Ugh... I'm probably doing this all wrong.  She'll prick herself on the thorns or something. This is so fucking...

"I'm completely lost," he blurted out, deepening his blush to nearly purple.  It wasn't like Freyd to be so far beyond his calm and calculating self.   Nyahhh... so embarrassing. 

"I feel... exactly like I probably should?"  Blinking realization as the words stuttered out in slow staccato.  "Maybe that's the whole point?  Right?  Maybe that's what we both need?  To let whatever happens happen, and accept that neither of us knows what we're doing? We're both going to mess things up - and that's okay.  Let's just promise that we will both try and keep trying, always."

Swallowing the lump as best he could and depositing the flowers in a nearby vase with his spare hand, only then did it become obvious how clammy his palms had become.

"Maybe... maybe starting with something small, and simple would be best?  Have you... uh... eaten?"

Peering through the shadowed bowels of a nearby potted fern, the notion that he was somehow invading the thing’s privacy, or hers, never even occurred to him.  Neither did the fact that ferns had no bowels, but they did have shadows, and that was all he really required.  It should have felt odd, he knew, gazing beyond sight in such ways; like standing on the far side of the looking glass to catch glimpses of this world from another. Yet, it never had. Like Takeshi in Simmone’s famed mirror, life felt more natural when viewed from such perspectives.

Hrm.   

Pondering why was never fruitful, save to disturb brief peaceful moments within an ever over-agitated mind.  The truth was 'Shadow', that irksome floor boss whose essence he’d touched during his very first  floor raid. Plunging his life-drinking blade into the flesh of a possessed minotaur legend had seemed a good idea at the time, and it had worked.  Freyd had never fully realized the price he would pay for that gambit, and was still discovering the truth of it. Beyond the marking of arrival to the front lines, the moment had been personally formative, along with many others, including those spent with the elfin-eared woman with whom he now shared a home.  

Our home.

A pang of something from inside set everything intangible tumbling with a warmth and gooey sense of uncertainty.  This was a new frontier for which Freyd had minimal experience. Elora was the expert on these grounds, but he desperately wanted to learn.  In this, she was his teacher, and he had finally come to realize how much that meant to him; how much she meant to him. Feelings don't come with manuals to be decrypted with codes or algorithms. Emotional epiphany had taken a while to process.

“Maybe I need to lay off having only Freya’s honey buns and black, vanilla-scented coffee for breakfast.”  Sure. Only he could possibly confuse the stirring feelings of an ever growing bond between them for indigestion. So naive.  Stray wisps of hair tinged like verdigris, a flit of pointed ear drooped with odd admixtures of self-doubt and resolve, the intoxicating scent of fragile uncertainty molding itself around a core of unfathomable passion. Beautiful.  All were familiar traits amidst a roiling, distorted blur.  Shadows were not precise, nor was any sight granted through their umbral underlayment.  But he knew her instantly in the dark, the memory of a head leaning against his shoulder beneath the boughs, and threats of Valentina's murderous threats, never having been forgotten.  Good times.

“Ah, there your are!”  Slipping with ease through the same viewport of nothingness, making it effortlessly serve as both window and door, it never even occurred to him that she might be enjoying a private moment.  Whispers were just bad with that sort of thing.

“Hey you.” he started chipperly and without warning, probably scaring the pants off her by appearing at her side with only the wafting of vanilla to announce his arrival.  “Are you settling in okay?”

"You're asking me!?"  Freyd managed, half-joking and half-incredulous, too busy dodging an assortment of pilfered blades to pick either one in whole.  "What the heck would I know about skyships?"

"Ryland," he snapped, interrupting the Dockmaster's next idiotic retort before it could even leave his lips.  "Get your ass in that raft and make it ready to save all of our collective cheeks.  I can keep them off you for another few seconds."

When dust and fractals alike finally settled, Freyd reset his stance in readiness for the next wave... which didn't come.  Crowding around them like a solid wall of eye patches, molting parakeet and salty peg-legs, the throng of threatening pirates held back while on the precipice.  Freyd stared them down, fists and kata at the ready, waiting to take on the horde, if necessary.  Instead, the field of second-hand clothing desperately in need of a laundromat finally parted, making way for their grand poohbah.  

"Drell?  You're looking a lot less dead than I would have expected.  Respawn timer treating you well?"

Shifting his stance, Freyd was signaling madly for Ryland to put a rush on starting the skiff.

***

Part 2 requirements have been met.  Part 3 triggers on the next post.

Loot:

Change, they say, is never easy.  Freyd had no idea what that was supposed to mean.  People were weird in the way they clung to things because they were afraid to explore the unfamiliar or unknown.  Yet that was where he stood, himself, staring down at the capped opening to his former home.  It was a well, or meant to look like one, hidden away of yet another forgotten ruin on the edges of Angel's Point.  A lost hole in the corner of a lost floor, where no one would ever have thought to look for him or sought to bother.  The Liminal Blind had been his hideaway for years, pristinely minimal in style and clutter - sterile might have been a better term.  He could could on a single spider-fingered hand how many people had ever seen the interior, including himself.  But those days were gone, as was the Blind.  A smile swept across his hawkish features, the high arch of his slender brows curling outward to ease their usual harshness.  

Hardly the normal measure by which Freyd gauged any action, let alone his own, but things were changing.  He was changing too.  Wandering back out to wander among the bleached limestone ruins, a pang of loss drifted through his heart as he crossed the place where his pond and slime farm had once lain.  It was little more than a sloping meadow now, with wafting humours from beyond the city's walls carrying the same miasmic haze and odour of fungal decay that pervaded all of floor thirteen. Nostalgia failed to sink its teeth in, the lanky man just striding through on his way to the teleportation plaza, sparing only a moment to wave goodbye to Miri and Quaestor as they opened up their shop across the way.  He'd still be back, regardless, the cobbled mess of trays and tables that was Freyd Edges still remaining near the ruin's gatehouse.  

A single word and flash brought him to Urbus's central square, its bustling activity having become much more familiar in recent weeks, and certainly a stark contrast to the sparseness of his former home.  Wandering through back alleys, and stepping through a few shadows to throw off any potential tails, he would eventually reappear on the outskirts of the waterfalls looming over Witherwind Rest.  That same smile, having never once left his lips, was joined with a deep breath and sense of unfamiliar joy as he made his way down from the cliff face to the valley proper.  A handful of natural pathways, cast in the thin grasses by local wildlife, made the trek easy and pleasurable to hike.

"This still feels strange," he admitted aloud, standing only a few dozen feet from the newly minted manse, its rich timbers and soft lines emanating warmth and welcoming that spoke to the true meaning behind his words.  Home had never been a comfort before - within the confines of the floating castle or beyond.  But also good.  Right.  What else have I been missing all these years?

Turning the solid brass handle to the front door, a load was lifted from the Whisper's shoulders as he passed over the threshold.  A cosy welcoming sensation pervaded the place, fully credited to the passions that came so naturally to his partner.  Elora simply exuded a rawness of emotion which he still struggled to understand within himself.  He wanted to, more desperately than he had ever realized.  Placing a hand over the hidden broach kept over his heart at all time - the Shadowed Rose - Freyd sought to capture some semblance of that essence to carry with him.

"Elora?  Are you here?"  He'd left her puttering in her room while he was out, not quite sure what she was up to.  Both had agreed to settle their own chambers before tackling the common areas.  It was fairer to say that he had no idea where to begin when it came to those spaces, never having been one to entertain or dare to actually cook his own meal.  Past attempts had proven to be traumatic, especially for the cookware and ingredients.

***

Freyd | HP: 1160/1160 | EN: 154/154 | DMG: 21 | MIT: 45 | EVA: 4 | ACC: 3 | BH: 63 | LD: 6 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | REC: 8 | V.D.: 127

Note: CS (Shades of the Gemini) is in use.  If any other player objects to this, please state in first post and it will be considered inactive.

A shade pulled itself from the stillness of the chamber, rent from the fabric of absence to stand upon its own two feet and appointed with a task.  Lean and lanky, it walked in silence to the terminal to convey its master's wishes in silence and solitude.  Selection made, its umbral digits wrapped around the conjured item and absorbed it into the void.  Staring at the polished walls and surfaces, its reflection was unfamiliar, even alien, to its unseen eyes.  There was no substance in shadow, only the opposite.  Pausing to survey and memorize the ornate, pristine features of the hall, its presence marred the opulent magnificence of the space, yet was permitted or even outright ignored.  The Hall of Champions did not discern, or did not care to do so.  Duly noted.

Shuffling in silence back to the dark corner from which it had come, the shade faded from view and existence alike, waiting to be called upon again.

***

2024-04-20

Memory of Battle | ID 222958
Doubles the bonus from Scents of the Wild totems for a single thread.

Falling in alongside Katoka's charge, Wrath burst forward to chase the arrow loosed from her bow only to veer left as the temporary archer's shot found its mark.  Fortunately, there were others.  Reckless abandon jointly unleashed with ruthless calculus manifesting both aspects of Freyd's psyche in a single instant.  One mob felt the concussive gravity of Samael's pride in a brilliant flash of white.  Its counterpart felt the sting of the infinite hunger within as the weapon's sword form cleaved clean through, leaving a massive glaring wound where its digital flesh should have been.  Behind both, the keening, maddening wail of oblivion screeched, and Freyd still made no sound.  He might as well have been a ghost of himself, riding down everything in his path, all features and evidence of humanity vanished - sunken or swallowed into his guise to leave only the silent shell of war.  The more observant among his allies might also have noticed that the green icon, ubiquitous to all players, was gone from over his head.

The cowl itself swiveled robotically, surveying the field for more targets, analyzing the few that remained and how best to obliterate them all.  Inside, a fledgling voice screamed in panicked, silent alarm, achieving nothing.

***

"Damnit, Bob..."  The words were somewhat muted by Freyd's face currently being embedded in the previously solid stone wall at the rear of the chamber.  Peeling himself out of a personally stylized crater, the lanky Whisper staggered for a step or two while trying to get the duplicate mobs in his wobbly vision to recombine into one for targeting purposes.

"We've talked about this, at length, Bob.  Manners maketh the man.  So man up!" Stumbling while reaching into his cowl, the feign instantly turned to recovery only to launch a very startled inky black mass from its comfy sleeping quarters straight at the boss mob's face.  Splattering against the King's decrepit chest plate with a dull 'thud', Persi's outrage manifest as a whirling maelstrom of shadowy teeth and claws that proved completely ineffective against the villain's unnatural resilience.  This only made her madder. 

Palming her entire head with his giant gauntleted hand, the irate familiar was just as soon flung aside with disdainful disinterest, her pride tumbling to the floor and coming to rest upright at Nymoria's feet.  Though her blue eyes blazed with indignation at the prospect of having been so casually dismissed, there was little more she could do.  But, Persi had already served her purpose.

Swiveling its skull back towards Freyd's point of impact, its gaze returned just in time for introductions with the Whisper's punitive fist.  Not quite as potent as the blow he'd just absorbed, Freyd's intentions were less direct and obvious.  The strike wasn't meant to kill, but rather stagger the target back through Freyd's waiting shadow, which stood waiting behind it with open arms. His fellow party members would see injury vanish as the shade partook of the larger mob's essence by mere passage and somehow restored it to its master instead.  In a blink, Freyd was back up to full health.

"You can make amends by kindly playing the part of pincushion for my friends here," he added, rolling his shoulder as if loosening up, and seemingly wholly recovered from his rocky start to the fray.  "They came a long way to see you and deserve a proper show."

***

Seizing a moment's advantage as Kat went all... whatever electric magnificence it was that she'd just pulled out of wherever and managed to shove Ryland forward to the end of the dock.  The skiff was there... kinda. 

"Ugh... it looks even worse than I remember from last time."

It wasn't much to look at.  No, actually, it was barely anything to look at, given how punky the tiny vessel's deck boards looked, bits of shy shining through the absent hull below in a few places.  It was only modestly redeeming that skyships didn't really need to keep any water out.  The heavily corroded contraption in its centre pretended to be an engine, but looked as though it hadn't been fired in Freyd's lifetime.  There was barely enough room for Ryland, let alone all three of them, but that was presently a secondary problem.

"Get her started," Freyd barked, whirling to dodge and counter a buccaneer's thrust, driving a high knee into a jaw lowered by lunging.  "Kat, get ready to make a break for it, and hang on to... err... whatever you can.  Looks like options will be a bit limited." 

***

Freyd's turn:

Mob's Turn:

Loot:

"I really hate this bloody dog."  Groaning after a searing, magma-drool laden bite had tried to sever his left shoulder Freyd watched as the glowing globules of bile sloughed off thanks to Zandra's timely intervention, adding to those already melting parts of her instead.  "Oh, uh... thanks?  You're okay there, right?"  The unhinged healer's maddened, yet cheerful, grin signaled disturbingly to the positive.  Healers. Weird, but effective.

"Fine, puppers.  You want to play it that way?  Let's see how you like this."

Clenching the void-like wraps hard, Freyd's teeth audibly clenched and ground against one another as oblivion within the artifact weapon sought to devour the digits daring to squeeze at pure nothingness.  As though it might somehow relent to existence?  Purile.  Even the pain suppression algorithms struggled with that one.  All around them, shadows and darkness bent, as light suddenly fell prey to an alternate attraction or distraction.  Each of Cerberus' heads, and those of its newly spawned minions, found themselves yanked by the leashes of their own shades to turn and force their gaze upon the Whisper.  Freyd's eyes, meanwhile, had faded to utmost black, as if the void had consumed him from within, just like it almost had with Orgoth.

Clenching both fists, Freyd unleashed his sword art through the layered shadows that bound him to the surrounding mobs, a wave of bone chilling cold sweeping across the battlefield to dim the oppressive heat of Cerberus' den.  Their attention focused upon him, a most subtle nod was offered to his companions to finish the job.  He would hold the enemy off as long as was necessary.

***

In a surprising act of courtesy for someone renown for irreverence, Freyd actually pulled back his trademark cowl to expose an unruly mop of black hair slovenly draped over a pair of piercing blue eyes.  Slender, arched brows gave him a slightly predatory appearance, but his face was otherwise surprisingly commonplace.  

"Erm... I'm pretty sure the king is the one that did said betraying, actually," he offered Wulfrin, eyes boggling a bit by way of explanation, "but the quest provides little to no detail.  It might explain the dilapidated castle motif and bloodstained upholstery surrounding his throne.  Just a guess."

Offering a short, informal bow in response to Nymoria's introduction, he made sure to wait until the action was complete before responding to other outstanding queries.

"We're going to challenge the Forgotten Time King, or FTK, as some prefer to call him.  He used to be considered one of the game's most dangerous mobs, but seems to have suffered some setbacks on that count since the last patch."  He shrugged, as if there was no other way to explain it.  "For all we know, this whole simulation has been running for years without any downtime maintenance.  Maybe his code is just breaking down over time?"

Ciela's gift of armor brought a mischievous grin to the Whisper's plain face.

"Functional.  I like it.  Dude must really have a hots for you," he added with a wink.  "If a guy brings you a box of chocolates, he's either inept or desperate.  If he fixes your car or brings you housewear or defrags your hard drive, those are signs of true love."  He completely left out how he'd randomly given Elora a copper rose during one of their first encounters, having no idea the significance it would later come to hold.  Such admissions were far too sappy for a proper ribbing, and the two neo-novices had certainly seemed to be spending a lot of time together.  Best to just tease them a bit and let nature take its course.  Having just discovered the power such feelings could evoke, he would hardly interfere or deny them the same hope and opportunity.

A small shadow stirred in his resting cowl at the offer of treats from Ciela, Persi's azure eyes with telltale horizontal slot irises glimmering from within the folds.  Darting out from beneath Freyd's hoody the instant the honey bun was revealed, the inky mongoose devoured every crumb before perching herself on hind legs and observing the newly-minted sea otter counterpart.  Freyd couldn't help but wonder whether they were secretly sharing war stories on some familiar-only chat channel that their owners could never access.

"Right... so... FTK.  Yeah.  Just make sure he stays focused on me and everything will be fine.  Probably... mostly.   Err.. he's this way."  Leading them through the twisted mine-cart strewn pathways and tunnels of Tomoika, Freyd soon had them passing beyond the gates and into the wilds of floor twenty one.  

"Don't go that way," he added, pointing towards a series of darkened tunnels overrun with iridescent blue webs and replete with glowing red eyes sequestered behind them.  "Chittering Halls, or somesuch.  Lots of badness.  Good for loot, though.  We can hit that another time."  Traveling with speed and purpose, Freyd led them to the appointed site while purposely avoid other potential hazards.  It was plainly obvious that he'd spent more time than most scouting or scouring this floor.

"Honey!  I'm home!"  Cheerful words echoed hollowly off scorched walls now barely more than barren stone marred by the trappings of strife. Striding unceremoniously as they passed beneath the barbican and making their way towards the central keep, their odd guide paid no heed to the dozens of corpses strewn about the courtyard, many clad in armor or sharing their weapons with each other in most unsportsmanlike manners.  A coup seemed the most likely inference, especially since what little remained of their clothing matched in the ways that mattered.

"Oh, thank goodness.  Bob!  You're still here."  A lone figure slumped in its throne failed to stir, the spear thrust through its chest and piercing beyond the wood chairback made sure it wouldn't topple over.  Bones from a more regal figure laid slumped and partially toppled down the dais at its feet.  "It's that time again, friendo.  And I'm pretty sure you already shit yourself, so it's long past due that you got off the throne."

As if on queue, baleful blue fire sparked to unlife within the dead thing's mostly skinless skull, a rictus grin offered as its only response as it pulled itself off the implement of its mortal doom, ready to add to the local body count.

"Just give us a minute, would you?" Freyd's shadow stood in his place, the man himself having somehow already traveled across the room to piledrive the epic-looking baddie from behind.  Sadly, the would-be King was not amused and whirled with uncanny speed to smash and splatter the sprawling Whisper into the far wall.

"Ouch.  Make that two minutes."

***

ph for grind thread

***

stats go here

"Bitch got what she finally deserved!"  Ryland just couldn't help himself once Calas had fallen, calling out his old nemesis though she was now nothing more than a sprinkling of glitter on deck boards some fifty feet back.  All of her men had fallen with her, leaving them all still being swarmed by an especially surly bunch of pirates.

"Dude," Freyd barked, smashing a random swashbuckler hard enough to send him flying back against the advancing throng like a wrecking ball and slowing their chase.  "You really need to shut it."

Glancing sideways, Freyd managed to pull out a healing crystal to benefit the lot.  And, somehow, fate seemed to be smiling on the mouthy dockmaster as none of their assailants managed to find purchase in his hide with any weapons.

"Please tell me the service skiff is still at the end of the span, Ryland, or we're all just taking an extended sprint off a very long plank."

"It's there.  It's there!"  Repeating it somehow didn't make his words any more reassuring.

"Then that's our only chance." The distance wasn't far, but fending off several dozen angry mobs while they boarded a vessel barely larger than a dinghy was going to take some doing.

"Thin them out a bit, Kat.  If you can.  I'll grab the rest of their attention and buy us all as much time as I can.  Don't hesitate," he added, with dubious finality.  "We'll only get one try at this."

***

Mob's Turn

Loot:

Bustling in through the front door, Freyd carried a long ream of paper that might have passed as annual gift man's naughty and nice list, the tail end trailing out into the street behind him.  Persi was playfully batting at it like some sort of string toy.  The Whisper, meanwhile, was wholly absorbed by its contents and clearly crunching some serious math behind that silly cowl.

"Hey, Kat.  Need to restock the larder before we get too close to the next raid, and everyone else at the guild is tied up with other business these days.  Not to mention that your goods have always proven reliable, so I'm sorry in advance."

A flick of his wrist produced a pre-populated order slip as for twenty antidotes.

"Somehow, this one also made me think of you."

She swore he was grinning madly as he left to continue his shopping barrage, the jingling bells of the shop door signaling his equally swift departure.

***

(Need 20)

Name: Squelch
Your Profession: Alchemist
Your Rank: [Leave Blank]
ID: [Leave Blank]
Roll: [Leave Blank]
Item Type: Salve
Tier: 1 (tierless)
Quality: Perfect
Enhancements: Antidote 3
Description: A soft spread with a pleasant odor that makes a disturbing suction sound once applied, and is considered inappropriate for younger players.
Post Link: [Leave Blank]

Having wrapped up a quick visit to The Knight Shift while he waited, Freyd continued his clandestine patronage of Ren's shop in the hopes that they would continue to bear fruit and foster the growth of new players.  Stationing an agent to watch his back had also kept opportunistic riff-raff and a few disgruntled neighbours off his back, to good effect.  'Plans within plans,' he thought, quoting one of his favourite novels, even as he spotted the gaggle of newbs gathering in Tomoika's square, two of them already known to him.  Not so newb no more.  Good.

Nodding as if just finishing a hands-free call, Freyd smiled from beneath his black trademark cowl, hints of his steel blue eyes glinting at them with mischievous mirth and fellowship as he approached.  Dressed in overly casual dark clothing that looked more like lounge wear than battle armor, he looked especially and deliberately under-dressed to be taking on what had once been called one of the most feared and ferocious mobs outside of a labyrinth, anywhere in Aincrad.  Only the black-on-black, void-like ribbon wraps tied meticulously around his palms belied an otherwise informal and falsely irreverent appearance.  No one takes the fool seriously.  It was a lesson taken to heart.

"You've both been busy," he began, nodding in satisfied admiration at the visible changes in Wulfrin and Ciela's gear and demeanor.  The Whisper's trade was appraisal, but he worked hard to extend that talent to measuring players as well as their gear.  It frequently proved a more useful tool and application than merely for bartering wares.  The newcomer quickly drew his attention, and especially her notably unconventional charm.

"Who might this be?  Another new companion?"  

First meetings were so important, and carried their own formal cadence, especially in Japanese culture.  How each participant to the conversation replied would reveal much about themselves, their backgrounds, and their facades.  Or, he could just be stuffing his foot in his mouth.  Either worked.  Fools never need to be perfect, and should actively avoid any such impression.

Spewed forth from a harrowing dive through the thin veils and shades cast by the Magistrate's throne, Freyd had escaped a solo fight with a boss he felt might otherwise have been much beyond his own abilities.  Suppressive effects of the gossamer webs spanning the treetops about her lair prevented complete success and shunted him sideways into never-never land.  In this case, that meant emerging from a crook between two butt-cheeks of a particularly gnarled oak on the outskirts of the Fire Forest, darker, nastier cousin.  The Flaming Heebie-Jeebies Forest?

Farted out the ass of the tree, Freyd gracelessly tumbled the extra two dozen feet to the ground, thoughtfully snagging every single branch along the way.  So nice of them to try to break my fa...OUCH. A minor mushroom cloud formed from displaced fallen leaves marked the Whisper's unceremonious point of impact, feet and hands sticking out like he'd been drowned in a giant bowl of pretzels with his head and torso buried beneath the pile.

"Uuuuuughhhhh..."

It was a long and exhausted groan, the type that often carried a story or twelve in its backstory, not that he had anyone yet available for the telling.  So, instead, he just flopped back and let his cowl rest upon the pillow provided by these ever-thoughtful trees and let the last of the lattice of razor-sharp cuts lacing his battered form heal while he took a much-needed moment for himself. And then a hand grabbed his and yanked him out of this cushy repose, because fuck if the universe can every grant a man even a fraction of a moment's rest.

"Oh, for the love of..."

The sword art already building in his other injured hand fizzled the moment he recognized the figure staring him in the face - or at least her chest was from this angle.

"Booba?!"  It was familiar.  "Wait. Mina?"  Something thumped him in the forehead as his rescuer dumped him back into the pile for his candor, sending up another crunchy puff of tree dandruff.  Yup.  Definitely Mina.

"What the fuck are you doing here?  Alone?!  ARE YOU NUTS?"  Scrambling awkwardly back to his feet, she could see that he was ripped and shredded, like he'd lost a fight against a swarm of bees, if bees were actually flying Ginsu knives.  It was rare to catch Freyd off guard.  It was even rarer - nay, unfathomable - to actually find him worried to any degree matching his present state.  And what could possibly have dealt him this kind of damage? His head snapped around to look up at the canopy, limned with the same familiar red-streaked gossamer drifting lazily in decay-scented breeze.

"Shit, Mina.  We can't be here.  Do you have any idea where you are?"

***

Sharing remaining portions of Gugnir’s Shard (Untradeable/Unique/Reusable Consumable): Crème Brûlée Tray | ACC 2 | Feast (5/6)

Notes:
1. Mega Slime Farm activated (+10% EXP for thread)
2. CS is inactive for this thread
3. Stats retained from scouting thread: here.
4. Freyd also consumes Terra Firma scale from: here.
5. Changing totem from Yamata no Orochi to Tanos
6. Consumes Mega-Duper Anti-Everything Sauce (Salve) | Antidote 3 | 197145
7. Consumes Flavoured Yogurt Shot (snack) | T4 Perfect Snack | Probiotics 3 | 217008

Freyd | HP: 1311/1311 | EN: 152/152 | DMG: 24 | MIT: 123 | EVA: 5 | ACC: 5 | BH: 72 | LD: 12 | PROSP: 3 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | TXV: 32 | TRLBLD | PARA IMMUNE | REC: 8 | V.D.: 144 | Dote: 3/3 | Prob: 36

Full Stats:

Sitting in solitude at a small table set in a remote corner of the newly minted Witherwind Rest, Freyd stared at two objects resting on the table before him.  The first was a chest board of simple make, with pieces painstakingly carved by hand from random pieces of wood collected from across the explored levels of Aincrad.  Judging by the layout of its opposing birch and black walnut factions, the game had been in progress for some time, though there was no evidence of a second player in the room.  Both teams were deadlocked with moves and counter-moves layered a dozen deep in twice as many different ways.  Had it actually been a real battlefield, everything would have been ready to explode in a frenzy of violence that would have laid waste to everyone.

Beside the board, held open by slender, spider-like fingers, was a little black book filled to the brim with secretive scrawlings - a recipe book, of sorts, for Armageddon.  Tracing the lettering with a fingertip, Freyd reached for the page's edge and delicately closed the book like one might replace the panel on a ticking bomb.  A sigh escaped his lips even as the same hand pushed a pawn forward, setting catastrophe into motion, or may... just taking a chance.

Pocketing the book, Freyd quickly surveyed his inventory to ensure that all required items were at the ready.  Like they were ever not.  The man was a structural redundancy, buttressing half the player base without most of them knowing it because that was what was needed.  That was his word - his vow: to offer hope.  Hope required an arsenal, and its component parts were people.  

:Come on, Persi," he called out, rousing the tiny black blob curled on a nearby cushion.  "Time to go hone some weapons, before they are really called upon to fight."

***

Freyd consumes:

Gugnir’s Shard (Untradeable/Unique/Reusable Consumable): Crème Brûlée Tray | ACC 2 | Feast (5/6) - takes 1 portion and shares the rest with the group
Armageddon Juice (Potion) | Damage 3 | 197239
Madlad Muffin | Tierless Rare Meal | EVA 2 | 220090a (+filled)
Stalwart's Stew | T4 Perfect Meal | MIT 3 | 216152
Shrimp Gumbo | Tierless Perfect Meal | Overhealth 3 | 216723
kintsugi. | TIER 4 PERFECT SALVE | TOXIC VENOM | (5/20) https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/19383-f01r10-alchemist-cintamani-open/?do=findComment&comment=676877

Freyd | HP: 1334/1334 | EN: 154/154 | DMG: 24 | MIT: 105 | EVA: 7 | ACC: 5 | BH: 73 | LD: 6 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | TXV 32 | REC: 8 | V.D.: 146

Moving like an ethereal wraith between the triad of barking, snapping maws, Freyd faded from view again and again only to reappear and resume his assaults mere moments later.  Inferno's rage had lost interest in the other two players, which had been precisely the point.  The only catch was that all three heads were now clearly and furiously focused on him instead.  "Frikkin life of a tank," he muttered to himself. "And here I am dancing with death in an outfit that could be mistaken as pajamas."

Seeing Morningstar resume his fighting stance and clip the first head in just the right manner brought a smile to the void beneath his cowl.  "Nice work, Z!  As always."  he'd never admit it, but some part of him had worried she might press her berserk attack and put their companion at further risk.  Fortunately, her healer's instincts seemed to have won out.

Snaring the wolf by its chinny-chin-chin, a tug reinforced by an overhead punch forced the third head to eat dirt and plunged its health into the critical range.

"One more," he hollered hoarse.  "Another basic attack on the first should do the trick. But nothing more!"

Tumbling away to a safe distance, he moved away to draw Cerberus' attention away and expose its flanks for the final puzzle piece to be locked into place.  

"That's right. barbeque-breath.  Come and get me..."

***

Streaking past his allies like dusk chasing a setting sun, Freyd explodes through the centre of the remaining mob scattering it to the corners of four completely absent winds.  Only then did his companions notice what he hardly seemed to have.  The Whisper's goal had never been the lone remnant from their current fray, but a locked bead on yet another pair beyond already surging forth from tainted soil to challenge them.  Eerily, neither horse nor rider made the slightest sound as they rained methodical chaos down upon the field, large swaths of amorphous, monstrous wrongness being smeared every which way as the man's slender blade swung to devour or spray whole sections of their prey about the ground.  One might wonder whether the lot of them had become shellshocked, save that their own voices cut through his wake's emptiness like clarion calls.  It all felt unnatural, which was saying something given their circumstances plus the amply twisted environs.  

Freyd might have been cackling madly as he surged, but who could tell or know for certain - if even himself.

***

Loot Blightbound Monstrosity 3: ID #222034 | LD: 16+7=23 | CD: 2
14000 col (HP[2000]*7 - incl. +4 CD/LD even)
T4 Perfect Trinket 222034a
T4 Perfect Weapon 222034b

"Well... that certainly explains the nickname."  Watching Zandra charge recklessly into battle in complete contradiction to their plan should probably should have surprised him more, but they'd actually fought side by side before.  Freyd was also preoccupied dodging his appointed head while flailing about in full Matrix bullet-time mode.  Cries of alarm nearly broke the concentration required to maintain such a state, along with a preconditioned alarm from his party status tracker  Star's slumped and injured form rolled to the ground next to him, instantly raised both hackles and concern.  Not good.

Even the slightest hint of amber in a player's health bar was never taken lightly, especially in a fight requiring such precision and against a potentially lethal foe.  Sidestepping into a lunge, Freyd slammed into the offending mutt with a full body tackle, wrapping his arm around its massive throat and wrenching its neck awkwardly around as he tumbled over top to place himself closer to Zandra. 

"I'll keep the first two focused on me," he called to the berserker, a commanding tone replacing his less reverent default.  Tank mode had taken over by necessity.

"Heal Star or tag that other head - your call."  Locking his fierce blue gaze with hers, eyes burning with intensity beneath that charcoal cowl, Freyd wasn't kidding around.  "No games this time, Z.  He needs us."  The Whisper's tone brokered no tolerance for shenanigans. He'd tackle all three heads on his own if he had to, but no one was getting vaporized on his watch while he could prevent it.

Belching flame and furious snarls matched the snapping of giant canine jaws to find only absent shadows in the wake of the Whispers' movements.  The man seemed to be in several places at once, shimmering between shades that mingles across the battlefield to distract and confuse.  Cerberus raged and frenzied, but found no greater purchase.  If anything, its efforts seemed less effective than ever, even managing to bite its own paw and howling with further growing frustration.

"GO!  I've got this," He barked sternly.

I'd better have this, for Star's sake.

All the while, he watched the reading across the three enemy health bars, never quite taking his eyes off his friend's prize.

***

Listening attentively, the natural tension in Freyd's shoulders seemed to ease slightly.  So it is the same for most of us.

"You'd be amazed to discover how many people feel the same way when in your situation.  I know I did, back in the day, and it really doesn't feel like it was that long ago."  The bobber on his reel swirled momentarily, caught in a minor eddy forming in the brook's meandering motions and gone just a quickly.  Epiphany could be just as quick and subtle. "Don't feel like you need to rush.  The joy is in the journey.  It's cliché, I know, but with good reason.  I felt the same sense of urgency - the need to rush and help the front lines."

Fishing something out of his inventory, instead, he tossed it to Xlear. 

"Here.  Take this and use it.  It might help your odds a bit.  Can't have you wasting away picking up rocks while the universe pressures you to peak performance."  One wry grin later, Freyd returned to his task, feeling unexpectedly good about the transaction.  Charity wasn't really his style - or was it?  How many times had he done similar things to help others without realizing the motivation.  It had always been about achieving victory, but maybe it was also more than that?  Maybe it was just a decent thing to do.

***

Post Action: Freyd gives Xlearsight:

Sweet and Sour Licorice Bites | Tierless Perfect Snack | Loot Die 3 | 215014 | Tiny morsels of strawberry cream flavoured licorice

"They're a weird bunch, that's for sure, but good people and it works."  Poking his head through a beaded curtain marking the entrance to one of the few luxurious buildings to actually exist in Fortaleza, Freyd yelled something at an NPC inside.  Both players instantly received a quest completion pop-up message, certifying that Abdullah's task had been done.  "Give me a call anytime, Kyoto.  You seem like a good guy, and I'm always happy to help.  If I hear anything about Itzal or the others I'll be sure to let you know, but your best bet may be to retrace their steps and see if you can pick up where they left off."

Nodding respectfully, Freyd politely withdrew and started walking towards the portal arch in the centra plaza, it's pristine polish shining with a piercing glare as it reflected the afternoon sun.  

"Oh, and go see Ren at The Knight Shift, on floor 21 - Tomoika.  He should be able to set you up with gear, if you need any.  Just tell him to put it on my tab."

***

Thread Closing:

Note: Conditions were not met to unlock Assault Mode extra skill

Kyoto receives:

3,134 EXP (Word Count [4534/10*2*0.7] + Quest [2500])
13,000 col (1 page [400] + Loot [7600 from Freyd] + Quest [5000])
1x Terra Firma Scale 221735a (T3 - Unique Consumable - Gain additional Mitigation equal to one T3 slot of the Mitigation Enhancement. This can exceed Mitigation Enhancement caps. The effect lasts one thread.)

Freyd receives:

5,073 EXP (Word Count [4534/10*16*0.7] + Quest [n/a])
761 col (1 page [0] + Loot [Given to Kyoto] + Quest [n/a] + 15% P5 Reward [761])
2 Materials (Loot [2])
1x Terra Firma Scale 221735b (T3 - Unique Consumable - Gain additional Mitigation equal to one T3 slot of the Mitigation Enhancement. This can exceed Mitigation Enhancement caps. The effect lasts one thread.)T4 Rare Armor/Shield 220670