Freyd

"What happened to you guys last night?" Freyd had spent most of the night by the fire, swapping stories with the Braso Bros, unexpectedly finding them a friendlier bunch than their reputation had suggested. Foyle was still looking pretty rough in the morning, leading them all to speculate that his marriage fever dream might have involved post-nuptual celebrations. No official records had been filed, no ring or other bindings found, suggesting he might have gotten lucky, in every way. "Just be grateful you didn't break any bones. Those ladies had more meat on their bones than half the

At first glance, Torgok itself might have been a bandit camp. Braso's polar welcome already left much to be desired, including the freak and sporadic blizzards that ended as suddenly as they began, often with a bonus cold snap to freeze any potentially lingering moisture. Combined with the ever-present, ambient winter's dark, it made for quite the cozy hellhole. "People actually live here by choice? It makes Snowfrost look like a summer paradise." What might have otherwise elicited a chuckle barely garnered a shivering clatter of teeth from his traveling companions. "Wow. To

"Isn't this a bit of an obscure route, going from the far east to the western edge of the floor? We'll be passing back through Ronbaru along the way, I thought we'd be heading to Ordsea next." Foyle and the wagon master had other plans, preferring to alter their plans for the sake of breaking predictability. It was a good idea, though proved to be for naught, another band of brazen bandits spawning up ahead to bar their way. It was the first time Freyd heard the old man curse. "Don't feel too bad. At this point, I'm wondering whether this quest simply summons them after a fixed

"What? You've been giving me that sideways glance since we dealt with the goons at the border. What's the problem?" Ren had been dour since he'd picked the fight. "Was there truly a need for that? Could we not have actually bothered to try?" "What makes you feel we didn't?" Already unloading their next set of good from Ronbaru, Freyd was more intrigued by the wares and decor of Yvlon, having a greater sense of industrial quality about it. Even the white haired smith struggled not to be distracted by it. "Did you even notice the dozen archers waiting on the ridge, befor

Ushering the caravan out of Dagan and towards its next destination, Freyd took the lead with Foyle at his side, scouring the countryside for the inevitable trouble to follow. "Is it the same group?" Loosening his blade in its sheath, he readied to be called upon for any mayhem to follow. "Doesn't look like it. Their dress is regional, and likely linked to some of the abandoned mines we spotted earlier. I see picks and pikes. Their weapons look more akin to tools." Crouching atop a nearby rise, Foyle's trim white hair gave him an air like some bird of prey in search of its next

All four players in the escort were readily surprised by the enthusiasm of Vesh's welcome. Garlands full of yellow flowers shimmering with a pleasant bioluminescent glow were strewn over their shoulders, the farming community modest, often dour dwellings having been spruced up with the same. Every street glowed with runway lights dangling from eaves, posts and whatever else they'd had to cobble together to make an unbroken chain from one end of town to the other. Nodding in muted appreciation, Freyd busied himself with unloading their cargo, leaving it to the wagon hands to celebrate wi

"I'm not sure if I hate or admire that you were right, Jeeves." Charging forward, Freyd turned the tables on their ambushers and decimated their front ranks with a single wide swipe that sprayed their avatars all over the terraced landscape. Thanks to Foyle's keen reading of the hillside, they'd been able to bypass the first two groups completely and catch the brigands' main force from behind. "The sheer amount of noise this bloody armor makes is definitely on the hate list, though. And it chafes like crazy." Turning to face their remaining foes, Freyd paused and held his ground to gi

"Seriously? You want us for a standard escort and trade route patrol?" Freyd eyed the attendant like he'd just requested a flight of next-gen stealth fighters to escort a courier pigeon. "Are you sure? This seems more like a thing for local security." Jeeves was already plotting their most efficient route, complete with risk-reward analysis. Foyle was speaking with the caravan master about cargo and logistics, examining their gear for optimal travel speed and defensive potential. Ren was staring at the nearby statues, attempting to translate its completely irrelevant engravings. Nerd.

The outskirts having been dealt with, at least for a time, Freyd drifted deeper into the grounds where many were jeering and taunting each other over games of Pallankuli. Not overly familiar with its rules, he kept to the periphery and watched the action play out at a distance. It seemed simple enough, once he'd watched a few moves, his eyes eventually snaring upon a familiar face. Wulfrin was just departing a table, politely excusing himself to explore the rest of the event to the playful dismay of the other participants. He hadn't know the man long, but had grown to admire his persis

Wandering the busy streets, it was soon apparent that Dayanita had successfully enlisted others to the cause. Players carrying similar trays chased after flickering lanterns all over the grounds, some turning it into just another source of fun, racing to reach the next in need of rekindling. Light was hope, and this subtle task, quest or otherwise, gave their thirsty souls a drink of that ambrosial emotion - just enough to keep them going awhile longer. A few familiar faces passed among the crowds, greeted with smiles and nods corresponding to levels of familiarity. Freyd was hardly

Twin statues, soaring high above the nearest tents and booths, facing each other in their loving embrace while smaller versions dance a played around them. It was a lovely sentiment, played out repeatedly throughout the festival as families wandered to and fro. More mischievous youngsters wove and darted beyond their parents' warding gaze, slipping the leash of authority to run amok with gleeful exuberance. Some would laugh it off, while others yelled ineffectively for them to return, their frustrations lost amidst the teeming throng. Freyd had met with the lamplighter; a frazzled youn

Wandering through the festival as if he were no more than one of its many maintenance workers, busily buzzing back and forth like an armada of bees keeping affairs in order and no one any the wiser. He'd considered donning a disguise to match, but it wasn't necessary. It was also nice to be seen, yet not be seen, despite the awkward clanking of heavy armor. People were too busy, the ambient music and droning chatter suppressing any one person's contribution to the whole. Jeers and cheers rang out with laughter throughout, and was comforting. A white-haired man called out at one point,

Staring silently as brows arched upward in realization, so much of what he knew suddenly made more sense. "That's why you're so hard on yourself all the time." An explanation made as much for his own ears to hear, as for hers. It wouldn't feel real unless spoken aloud. "That's it, isn't it? You're more afraid of what you feel are your own flaws, and that they might somehow push me away?" Stone thudded loudly beneath their feet, an ancient mechanism triggered by Elora's gesture, yet also perfectly timed to match a different epiphany. Ruins shifted, slabs peeling back from overgr

Self-pinning to the boss' putrid form left few options as its flesh unraveled all around him, swallowing Freyd in a deluge of gunky raw decay. Even getting bits of Slime King in his mouth, or sliding past the underside of the Monkey King's crotch had not been quite so nauseating. One last desperate gasp of fetid air was all he managed before that sticky, dark miasma fell and engulfed him. It got a few other tanks too, by way of fleeting glance, though there was little he could do for them. Drawing upon his connection to Shadow's insipid darkness, touching that vast, oblivious void conn

Could sentiments ring out in echo? Hearing his thoughts given voice through her words was unexpected, though also heartwarming. Old Elora would have smiled awkwardly, contrived some excuse or self-effacing lie to smother any risk of exposing her own perceived flaws or felt inadequacies. Hints curled upward at the edges of his lips even as careworn edges weathered down the default arch and harshness of his brows. A ring of truth. A touch of the bond slowly yet still burgeoning between them, delivered through the tenderest of touches and the image of fairest skin. Understanding. Pri

Freyd entered the hall and stared at things because the sign on the door said he couldn't just wander in and pick up what he'd wanted. The prescribed time since his last visit had lapsed. He stood around waiting and wasting time, because some arbitrary rule meant he had to, even though there was absolutely no point to it, whatsoever. It was dull, meaningless and felt like a complete waste of time, because it was. Running a mailed gauntlet along poorly traveled surfaces was in no way to test for dust, but if you needed to kill a few minutes, then ensure that they were utterly slain, why not

A giant clawed mitt wreathed in raw, pungent decay wrapped itself around his leg, ensuring hurt would follow. Freyd felt Callisto's massive claws bite into his leg too deep to easily escape. Then the horizon went on a topsy-turvy joy ride, spinning every which way as he was tossed around relentlessly. Whatever rage had twisted this creature, blighting and rotting its body and mind, he'd clearly gotten under its skin - not that it was that hard to do. Half of it was sloughing off already anyway. Resigned to the strange realization that things were going exactly to plan meant his situati

Thread Closing: Typhoonflame receives: 3,301 EXP (Word Count [4312/10*1*0.7] + Quest [5000]) 26,900 col (1 page [400] + Loot [16,500] + Quest [10000]) 1 mon 1 Guild Token [Firm Anima] Unlock <<Forgotten King's Authority>> Extra Skill Freyd receives: 5,430 EXP (Word Count [4312/10*1*0.7] + Quest [0]) 814 col (1 page [0] + 15% P5 Reward [814]) 2 Materials (Loot [2]) 1 mon 1 Guild Token [Firm Anima] T4 Rare Consumable 237355a T4 Rare Armor/Shield 237355b FTK Party Leader Reward | ID 237696 | LD 20 | Forgotten King's Spite | T3 Demonic Weapon

Freyd took in Ty's response with little more than a curious raising of his left eyebrow. There was no right answer. Everyone picked up something different. The point was to be able to answer with any kind of insight at all, otherwise, he'd have just taken a beating for no reason. Sheathing his blade, the Whisper returned to his ward's side, seemingly content. Their goals had been achieved, and she'd be stronger for it the moment they left this frigid, stagnant hall. "As long as you learned something," he merely replied with a smile, dusting off dregs of old mob dust from his armor.

"We're holding our ground and keeping a good pace at the same time," Freyd replied, grateful to Baldur for a moment's respite. "This bear seems to have my number, but as long as I can keep soaking up its damage without other ill effect, that lets the rest of you do what you need." Wulfrin had already charged forward, dutifully resuming his assigned task, and the rest of the team quickly rallied behind. "Looks like the other groups have also recovered. I'm not sure if there's more to this thing or not, or if we're simply meant to endure and wear it down while keeping our fingers crossed

Clashing steel against shadow, Freyd spun and switch wielded Pride for Truth instead, the more tangible blade emerging as if from the former. A swift, unexpected kick to a known weak point in the King's shin guard snapped a brittle bone, made vulnerable by age or frozen in that static state by the ravages of undeath. Either way, the mob's leg snapped, toppling him sideways and right into the arc of Freyd's downward swing. Foot stomping against hard flagstone, itself broken by time and design, Veritas returned to a guarding stance out of habit more than necessity. A skull rattled by, turnin

Mental images of a version of himself jumping through the air, gobbling healing Scooby-snacks out of the air, spread a goofy grin across the Whisper's face. Such absurd moments were always the best. But it was time he properly shattered Bob's ambitions, snatching away any dreams of victory the mob might actually have allowed itself. Sidestepping the latest swing of its massive, rusty axe, Freyd's blade parried and offered a swift counter with an upward strike. Samael's Pride loosed its reigns once more and shrieking filled the stale ruin's air as the black sword carved a swath through the

The King advanced, seemingly convinced that he had Freyd on the ropes and the initiative was his to command. One resounding step after another brought with it the clash of steel on steel as the mob's massive greataxe swung down like a guillotine blade intending to slake its thirst of player blood. A rumbling, raspy cackle wheezed from the villain's undead throat. It hadn't felt this glorious in ages, and reveled in the rare sensations of euphoric vigor, pressing its advantage to the fullest. Freyd, meanwhile, seemed unusually calm, giving ground gradually as he measured his breathing a

"Uh... do you think I have it's attention," Freyd quipped, Callisto having just attempted to gather his spleen without even asking permission. He'd made mobs mad before, but this time was aiming for some sort of unofficial record, and they were barely a quarter of the way through its health bars. "I just keep picturing it rolling around on a unicycle, wearing a pink tu-tu." Twin claws made of pure putrid foulness raked their way across his chest plate in response, apparently unappreciative of his imagination. Freyd found himself wishing he'd brought a dozen of those little pine-scented

"It's alright," he replied. "You kinda get used to ~OOF!" The butt end of the king's axe handle smashed into Freyd's abdomen, lifting him a good two feet off the ground with some appreciably uncomfortable hang time before he stumbled backwards to find the ground with his ass. "Ughhh... I hate it when you do that, Bob." Rolling sideways to avoid the mob's follow-up swing, the Whisper soon regained his footing to the tune of a shrieking banshee as Samael's Pride loosed its wards to unleash the black void within. Swinging low, taking advantage of his own compromised position, Fre