Freyd

The screech came from above.  How the hell did get above him?!  Freyd's weary arms turned just in time, dealing it a glancing blow and forcing the Lure to scramble back into the darkness.  It tosses debris at him , as if to declare its frustration over the fact that he hadn't fallen yet.

"The feeling is mutual, buddy," he  jibed back.  "Now, get back over here so that we can end this already."

"What's going on in here?  I thought I heard someone scream?"

Freyd blinked as the watched a young boy, probably about twelve, enter the alley.  He was an NPC, by his icon.  What kind of sick mind creates an encounter like this, where child NPCs wander into dark alleys to get devoured by monsters?  Judged through the lens of his own predicament, he knew the answer.

"Get behind me, boy!"  Freyd stepped forward, placing himself between the child and Lure.  

It might as well have, given the feeble effort it made, tripping over loose garbage.  The keening stopped suddenly as it tasted a mouthful of trash, then promptly spat it out again.

Freyd's reaction wasn't much better.  His weak swing didn't even come close to making contact.  At least the numbness in his arm was fading.  Correcting his stance and grip, he re-centred himself and waited for his enemy to emerge.  This thing has proven resilient - better than a boar, at least.  Memories of Bacon Bits flooded his mind as he stood quietly in the spot lit area in the clearing, surrounded by refuse.  The Dark Lure had gone quiet.  He wasn't sure if it had slunk around to the shadows at his side.  The absence of its keening was somehow worse, increasing the growing tension.  Bits of dust swirled silently around him as he waited.  Even the sounds of the bustling city around them were gone.

Both of them were getting tired.  Freyd's advance had worked, at the outset, but he faltered about halfway across the square, misjudging the clearance to the nearby wall.  His elbow jammed as his clanged off its surface, jarring his entire arm.  He was fortunate not to have dropped his weapon in the process.  The little child-thing grinned wickedly, thinking it had found its opening and pounced.  Freyd pulled the blade up one-handed, just enough to brace it against his throbbing right forearm and use it to block the little beast, then fling it into the nearest pile of scrap.

Flexing his right hand, and shaking out the entire arm, Freyd sought to restore sensation and end the tingle that still pulsed through it.  Forgiven Disobedience's blade dragged unceremoniously on the ground, scraping loudly against the worn cobblestone surface.  Whoever had given it to him would surely have been unimpressed to see it wielded in this manner.  He leaned forward, resting his right arm against his leg to stretch it and catch his breath.

"Give me a minute," he said to the vile critter, as if it would actually consider doing so.

His sudden charge caught it offguard and gave purchase to his strike, but it slashed back at him with hatred-backed claws.  

On and on they fought.  Freyd could see his energy reserves dwindling, and he'd barely scratched the thing.  

'Persistence!' he heard his old karate sensei's voice berating him.  He'd dropped out late in high school and spent more time on gaming.  Here he was, wishing he'd taken his teacher's advice more to heart, for both options.  It might have paid off in some useful manner.  His enemy wasn't going to back off, and neither one of them had an easy route of escape.  The surrounding walls might be climbable, but you'd have to turn your back to make the attempt, and that seemed exceptionally unwise.

"Persistence it is, then." 

Freyd redoubled his efforts, raising his sword high and chopping in circular swings to let the blade do the work.  He pushed forward.

That might have been a bad idea.

The little hellion went crazy, hacking, biting and thrashing at everything around it.  Freyd took a swipe on the shoulder as he struggled to keep it at bay.  It looked even more hideous in daylight, with sunken eyes that seemed to withdraw even deeper into their sockets to avoid the brightness.  

"MINE! MINE! MINE!" it screeched.  Did it consider this junk to be its possession.  Freyd noticed a number of small humanoid skulls mixed in with the trash.  These were trophies.  The added detail put a considerably sicker tone over the battle taking place here. 

"Could those have been players?" Freyd wondered, disturbed by the very notion.  He cleaved one of them in half with a broad stroke, just to gauge the effect.  The creature raged further, risking itself out in open light to protect its precious trinkets.  Freyd pulled back, luring it closer.

The two of them kept sniping at each others heels, neither prepared to enter the other's arena for fear of giving up their respective advantage.  Freyd tried lunging at it when it exposed itself, only to discover that he'd stabbed a broken coat rack with junk strewn over it.  His foe, meanwhile, was flustered by his growing agility.  Freyd hardly felt invincible, but recent practice was definitely making a difference.  Holding his ground felt good.  Now he needed to find and press some advantage.

He swung wide with his weapon, releasing the grip from his right hand just long enough to grab the slain coat rack and using the blade as a counterweight, he slung it up at the tarps, breaking some free from their anchors.  Light streamed down into the tiny square and the creature's imitative keening changed to the sound of its own personal agony.

"A creature of darkness, eh?" Freyd said aloud.  "Let's see how you like playing on my terms!"

Forgiven Disobedience's white blade practically glowed as it slashed and cut the air around Freyd, casting ornate patterns of light on surrounding walls whenever it swung high enough to catch one of the slim beams of light penetrating the tarps strung between the buildings and shading the alley.

"That's got to be a fire hazard, or something," Freyd complained.  This thing's grey flesh and quick reflexes made it a difficult target.  Every time he thought he knew where it was, its child-like voice would taunt hi, echoing off the walls to conceal its point of origin.  It made a flashing dash across the open floor, hoping to rake him with those nasty claws, but he managed to slap it away with the flat of his blade.  

It keened again - that same chilling scream that had lured him reflexively into the alley in the first place.  Freyd's nerves and pulse remained steady.  He was getting used to this.

A dark, wretched-looking thing with humanoid form shuffled from the darkness.  It was the size of a small child, but its grey skin was covered with oozing sores.  Its long fingernails more closely resembled claws.  It wore tattered clothes and reeked of decay.  Vile, yellowing teeth protruded in every angle from its over-sized mouth.  The filthy crop of hair green hair on its head barely concealed its malevolent yellow eyes that gleamed hatefully.

The creature giggled giddily, like a mischievous child, as it threw itself at Freyd, who barely managed to dodge behind debris for cover while he summoned his weapon and readied to defend himself.  The small fiend was fast, and literally climbed along the walls at it leapt from surface to surface, attempting to disorient him.  Having regained his focus, Freyd was not so easily fooled and quickly found more open ground where his long blade could move freely.

Zack's package safely tucked away, Freyd already had his head back in the user guide.  

"Hrm... merchant sounds right up my alley."

A clattering noise to his right drew him back to the present.  In keeping with his line of thought, he'd come across a dark and narrow gap between several shops.  Painted on the one side, in bright red letters was "SHORTCUT".  On the opposite side, in the same hand and colour, the author had added "...No... REALLY!!!"

"You have to be kidding.  There's no way that I'm..."

The sound of a child's scream echoed from the passage, and before he realized it Freyd had raced into its dim twists and turns in search of its source.

"What am I doing?!" he asked himself aloud, scouring dark corners for whatever might have caused the cry.

A system warning informed him the he had left the sanctuary safety of the Town.

"Oh, great..."

"Well done, my friend," Zackariah said, his soft, kind eyes beaming over Freyd as he admired his successful work.  

Freyd, for his part, was already trying to repeat the procedure with alternate variables, but was frustrated to find that completing the quest objective had locked out access to the bank of infinite materials.

"Rats,"  he added, having been bit by the addictive crafting bug.

"If you're that eager," Zackariah said, reacting to Freyd's disappointment, "why don't you help me out further by bringing this concoction to Lyle Tealeaf.  He's a friend and local blacksmith, and was also complaining to me just yesterday that he had his own challenges procuring materials.  I'm sure he would welcome your aid, as I have, and working for him could advance your knowledge further."  The animators had done a really good job on the old man's features, making him extra-likeable.  His expressions even managed to Freyd's semi-calcified heartstrings.

"Myeah...alright."

Glass of every shape and colour clinked and rattled as he returned to Zackariah's shop.  He was muted and distracted, still dwelling on the red bandit.  Closing the door gently behind him to avoid damaging any of the man's goods, his hand lingered unexpectedly on the handle.

"Ho!  You've returned," Zackariah beamed from behind his work bench.  He hadn't moved from the place where Freyd had found him during his previous visit.  

"Hi Zack," Freyd replied, absentmindedly.  "Hey, is it a normal part of your quest to be attacked and have to recover the items you sent me to collect?  Some creep in red stone them from me on my way back, and I had to chase... her...or.. it down."

"You found them?  Excellent!  Now, let's brew ourselves a few helpful potions.  First you must..."  The NPC rambled on with its prescribed dialogue, ignoring Freyd's question.

Resigned to the fact that the NPC could not,  or would not respond, Freyd abandoned his inquiry and simply followed his instructions.

Clambering back to his feet, he raced back to join the battle, a switch having seemingly been turned on his head thanks to his previous strike.  Watching Yuki's movements, he waited for the lumbering monster to strike at her defenses.  Freyd found his opportunity and purchase with his blade.  The damage was more symbolic than effective, but it fed his drive and confidence.  Soon he was darting back and forth behind the behemoth, chipping away at small icicles and loose chunks, breaking whatever he could manage, but without doing anything that might garner its attention.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this!" he called out, withdrawing a bit to where he could better see Yuki  do her thing.  His grey, unremarkable cloak allowed him to blend effectively into the frosty surroundings.  He lingered a moment, catching his breath and readying to make another attack.

"Get him, Yuki!  You've got this!"

The last contents of the stranger's life bar steady bled out, as a pool of white spread beneath its red-clad form.  It was such an opposite to the normal contrast as to be almost beautiful. 

"Return what you stole from me," Freyd demanded.  Five glass vials containing the mold spored Zackariah had sent him to collect materialized in the hand he had pinned.

"Good.  Now, tell me who..."

It threw itself up at him, impaling itself on his readied blade, but stabbing him in the calf using a tiny stiletto concealed in its other hand.

*Glurb*

It shattered into a field of glowing light and disappeared, the five vials clattering to the ground when the appendage holding them vanished.  Fortunately, they didn't break.

"Damn," Freyd cursed.  He still didn't know whether this was part of the quest.  He'd simply have to find another player who'd completed it before and compare notes.

Both of them moved at the same time, the crimson figure weaving like a blur and attempting to get in close to put its dagger to use.  Freyd had realized that his sword's reach was his best advantage.  He chose a calculated risk and gave his enemy the opening it needed, exposing itself in the process.  It's short blade found purchase, digging deep into his arm, but at great price.  Forgiven Disobedience flared with holy fury, blazing white and it came crashing down upon the thief's collar bone.  White fluid burst forth from the wound as notes from an angry yet angelic choir echoed against the walls of the narrow space, drifting up to the sliver of sky above.

Freyd placed a booted foot firmly on his enemy's wrist.  It yelped like a wounded child, releasing its weapon, but unable to free itself.  

"I asked you who you are."  There was a decidedly harsh and unpleasant tone in Freyd's voice.

Both of them struggled to find their footing.  Freyd found it hard to property wield and swing his blade in the tight alleys, while his crimson foe appeared to have injured its ankle and lost much of its mobility.  Each sought advantage in position against the other, or at least tried to keep their opponent off balance as they tried to recover.  A few wild swings missed wide, Freyd managing to press his attacks enough to corner his enemy in a blind alley with tall buildings on all sides.  The smooth stone finish made escape impossible.

"Who are you?" Freyd demanded, his sword poised to strike at the slightest provocation.

The red figures beady glowing eyes narrowed as it realized its predicament.  Its dull, black dagger was held in a backhand grip before it while its other hand remained concealed behind its back.  He could see it searching its surroundings for options, turning its head only slightly as it also tried to keep its attention trained on him.

The chase blazed though the sidestreets and alleyways, across rooftops and even though one fortunately empty privy.  Freyd struggled to understand why that last one was even included in the setting.  Pushing the nauseating detail aside, he leapt, dodged, slid and bounced his way across the urban terrain in a manner reminiscent of parcour.  Amazed as he was that he could even keep up, it was a struggle to do so and might have been impossible, had his quarry chosen a less conspicuous colour of clothing.  

His analytical side was still processing the odds of whether this was a clever twist built into the quest, or indication of something far more sinister. The results remained inconclusive, but they did manage to reveal a pattern of movement.  Taking a chance that he'd read it correctly, Freyd altered course and made his move.

Striking from above, he clipped his foe one the shoulder and sent it sprawling, but not before its piercing dagger also struck him in the gut.

Freyd was looking forward to turning in his quest items and collecting the reward, already thinking ahead to what he should do next.  There were still so many options and opportunities left to explore.  Lost to his internal monologue, he'd completely missed the crimson-clad figure following him from the rooftops.  The slender figure pounced on him, using the momentum gained from tumbling down two storeys to send Freyd sprawling on the cobblestone street.  He looked up, scrambling to regain his wits and bearings just in time to see it physically reach into his back and draw out his five filled vials.  

The figure, which was small in stature and build, was covered in red cloth from head to toe with a shadowed horizontal gap near the mid-point of its face.  Two burning red eyes glowed with malice from within.

"Tag," it said, its voice far too deep and metallic-sounding, before it darted into a nearby alley.

"Hey!" Freyd cried.  How the hell had it reached into his inventory?!  That wasn't supposed to be possible, was it?

Scrambling to his feet, he raced after it.

*stub*

*CRASH*

Face down in the grass, Freyd curse himself for not paying better attention.  He spat out the clod of dirt in his mouth and wiped as much mud as he could off his clothes.  Between this and the two boars, he was completely coated in muck, including his face and hair.  If he stayed out in sun too long, there was a good chance he'd dry in place and have to be chiseled free.

*Sigh*

"Yup.  Clump."  Accessing the glittering little pile of soil, he found what he needed and filled his last vial.  Glad to have completed his task, he wandered slowly back towards the gate.  The guards made no move to acknowledge him as he passed.

"Stop judging me, Marv!" he hollered, bits of mud dripping from his cloak.  The guard made no move and offered no response.  He merely yawned in accordance with his regular 60-second programming and stared into the distance.

Actively thinking about it had probably jinxed his luck.  Freyd wasn't normally the superstitious type, but he was still clinging to the idea that the Cardinal system had it out for him.  His loot-driven win streak was broken by his next search.  The dominant, rational parts of his mind asserting that it was inevitable, and merely shrugged it off.  There were plenty of other candidate sites littered around the meadow.  He was literally tripping over them, there were so many.  This zone would have been designed to be swarmed with players during the opening days of the same, and had an abundance of spawn points to deal with the surge of traffic.

These days, it was a virtual ghost town.  Freyd chuckled at the double-entendre.  He was still the only player here.  No one had even traveled up the road from the nearby gates to the Town of Beginning.  Most players likely used the teleportation gate to reach other floors, having long ago done the longer trek on foot.

The chest de-materialized a few seconds after he had closed it, revealing another explorable sparkle mound for this ongoing quest.  The RNG might not have been Freyd's best friend when it came to combat rolls, but it was definitely on his side for loot today.  Four for four, he collected the spores from another batch of truffles.  Only one more was needed and he could return them to Zackariah.

It occurred to him that he should probably also be thinking about which profession to pick up.  His ever-organizing mind was already planning out how to lay out his inventory to better keep tabs on future resources.  "I wonder if there are stats available somewhere on how many players favour each profession?  It might be more advantageous to choose something other players are less interested in.  That would probably mean that the progression was too slow, with materials too hard to find or a payback that required more effort than most were willing to put in.  Neither bothered him.  He had always been content to take on the unwanted jobs without balking.

It wasn't until that moment that Freyd caught a glimpse of something shining in a small hollow beneath the trunk of the oak that had become the datum for his current search pattern.  It must have been exposed when Bits 2.0 crashed into it.  Pulling some of the dirt away revealed a sizable wooden chest with ornate brass hinges and trim.  He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that no one was watching, then cleared enough ground around it to get access.  His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he opened the lid to reveal its contents, placing them immediately into his storage before anyone could pop up and attempt to feed him some line about having staked out the spot or months on end and only wandered off to go to the bathroom.  It happened to him in another game once, and he wasn't about to allow a repeat!

Freyd walked slowly up to the dying creature, watching it flail helplessly as his weapon's poison finished it off.  The reincarnated Bits, in a final act of spite, reared up and bit him for his trouble, then collapsed and lay still beneath the oak for a second time.

Shaking his injured hand, Freyd watched the creature burst into shard of light and vanish one more.  It had proven to be an interesting day after all.

Leaning his blade casually on his shoulder, he scanned his surroundings once more.  The other boars had taken no more interest in the second battle than the first.  Each moved  short distances in stunted increments across the meadow without regard.  So long as they were left alone, they would ignore that might occur around them, not matter how strange.

He hoped to finish his search quickly enough to spare poor Bacon Bits the embarrassment of another encounter, and so set his gaze back on the ground to search for those two remaining spore samples.

Neither combatant would be satisfied with another extended mano-a-pig-thing showdown, resolving to settle their battle quickly.  They charged each other directly, colliding next to mud-pit graveyard of Bacon Bits 1.0.  Freyd's blade sang a keening wail as he launched himself from a crouching position, impaling the board with the tip of the sword and leaving a wide gash along its flank and back.  The wound oozed white fluid, where one might have expected blood.

His onslaught was not without risk, however, as Bits thrashed madly and caught him in the abdomen, leaving Freyd prone after his devastating blow.

The pig hauled his injured body over to the oak, propping himself against it as fire spread through his veins, or whatever might pass for his digital equivalent.  This fight was already over, it was just a matter of deciding the specifics of their final clash.  Regardless, another pig was about to die.

His trick didn't work twice, though Freyd suspected it was really just a function of the random number generator and its general disdain for his health and well-being.  His luck was apparently concentrated on finding spores, rather than hitting things that were trying to kill him.  He wasn't sure he could appreciate the selective distribution, especially when Bits 2.0 gored him in the arm.  The pain suppressors were remarkably effective, but they came with the caveat that you remained lucid as you were dismembered and couldn't count on shock to let the darkness take you.  He batted the pig across the snout, successfully getting it to back off, but didn't manage to deal it injury.

"Back off, Bebop," he spat, attempting to bolster his fortitude by referencing 30-year old cartoon characters.  Was comparing a boar to an anthropomorphic warthog considered fair game?  Did it matter?  His mind just shrugged and carried on.

This time, Freyd allowed himself a grin.

His greatsword materialized in his hand as he sliced upward at the boar's throat, cutting deep and triggering its aggro mode.  Bacon Bits 2.0 unexpectedly bowled him over, pancaking him with its girth and weight.  Freyd recovered his footing quickly and the two of them began their dance anew, though this time the pacing seemed considerably faster.  Noticing that the oak tree had also recovered its cut branches, he lured his opponent near it once more.  His analytical mind was curious to see if the mob retained any knowledge or awareness of tactics from their previous engagement.  

Bacon Bits snuffled and growled at him, but followed.  The two of them were soon beneath the tree once more.  Freyd thought he saw bits hesitate when it moved under the same spot where he'd previously crushed 'him' with the fallen bough, but he quickly dismissed it as his own projected expectations.