Freyd

With a little inginuity, Freyd rigged one of the overhead pulleys to a platform that could bear his weight, releasing the large metal bucket that had previously been attached, which promptly fell onto a solitary stone outcrop with a resounding *DONG*. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Freyd swung over top of the mired meat puppets, using his momentum to provide the needed extra force to make them really feel the full force of his thrusted fists and kicks. Too dazed to effectively resist, the mobs were left to flail aimlessly as he passed, taking a slow but steady beating until all s

If Ojib'we - or Owij'be, or whatever the thing's name was supposed to have been - was indeed the labyrinth guardian, and the Midnight Ripper was its field boss, what did that make Magistrate Aldenbrook?He'd never found any indication of a quest in his UI for any of them, though his current bout might require final clearing of his remaining foes to declare itself. Cardinal could be a weird-ass cranky pants about these things sometimes. The last of the caged meat fell apart, its bits and bobs having stuck themselves into inappropriate openings and paid the price. Glory to the fallen, etc

With half the mooks dead, and the balance being little more than mindless automatons, Freyd managed to maneuver them around the battlefield isolating groups for separate focus. All that remained was culling them one by one. The latest batch were hemmed in by a series of mangled cages where their progenitors were likely kept before being reduced to their present state. Reddish metal, part rust, but mostly blood, marred the pocked and pitted surface, as if acid had been sprayed upon them from the outside... probably to melt the skin. Eww. Tricking the golems into reaching for him throug

Savaging the forward ranks, Freyd finally broke though the enemy's lines. Free to roam freely, what first began as an awkward trap become a massacre. The poor meats were having to face death a second time, though it wasn't like they'd really left him much choice. Nor could he allow them to venture from this place and possibly endanger the populace of Glyndebourne. That place had enough issues already. It also reminded him to check these mobs for any red thread influence. Seeing none, and having found no trace of it on or in the Ripper, he resigned himself to the fact that this was a gut-

The herd... HORDE... The horde was thinning. Preferring to envision the shambling zombies from his old place in Angel's Point on Floor thirteen also helped. Not that they were much better, but the idea of fighting animated humanoid corpses was somehow still preferable. Maybe it was because his brain could never equate them with food? Odd as it might seem, that distinction made all the difference and kept his wrenching stomach from churning any further. Snaring one sack of sausages by its twistings, Freyd spun and smashed it into the nearest pressing foes, desperately trying not to th

They're just mobs like any others, Freyd. Beat them off and... *headdesk* "Great. My own twisted imagination is going to get me killed, and do the bloody Ripper's job where he actually failed." Freyd figured the weirder and less specific his names for them were, the safer his sensibilities. Another wave of zombie golem meat thingies fell by the wayside, spilling their digital guts all over the mucky ground. Does this turn them into fertilizer? Are the sausage-based ones simultaneously full of ass? *groan* He couldn't destroy the things fast enough, and was alre

Pressing his advantage, the Whisper whipped forward to tenderize the next row, snapping the blood soaked bits of string and occasional sausage casing holding different parts of his enemies together. At least one smelled like rancid bacon, only motivating him further to dispel such a thing. He even considered switching to TECH-G and having himself a good old style barbeque, but that sword art lacked multitargeting options. Plus, no marinade or sauce could possibly overcome this degree of stench. A few stray links of chain still remained, strewn all over the ground, providing an added to

The rotten seafood soon surged again, seeking to place an assortment of claws, suction cups and tentacles onto unmentionable places, only to be denied by the Whisper's desperate contortions. Two dozen assorted meats were closing on his position. It was as if he'd pissed off the deli and butcher counters at the same time, the two seeking to trap him in a pincer move, with the seafood folk having a natural advantage. So they had to go first. Smashing his way through the first line of enemies, Freyd resolved to treat this like any other grind, no matter how disgusting. He's swallowed La

"Are we really going to do this? You know I have no beef with y..." Facepalm moment confirmed. "Okay. That one's on me." Animal rights activists claim that inhumane slaughtering practices can affect the flavour of meat. Tasting the advancing meat-sicles was out of the questions, but a little shock and awe seemed highly appropriate. Unleashing a succession of quick strikes against the advancing tide, focusing particularly on a group that seemed suspiciously seafood-based, Freyd pounded them enough to stagger their advance and buy himself enough space to maneuver. "I am not get

Having rested enough to recover his strength, Freyd bade them move towards the nearest exit. Glyndebourne was still some distance from their present location and night was setting in. Best to be clear of added dangers. He still hadn't made it off this floor since his original encounter with the red threads, Morningstar at his side. Hopefully, Star and the others had made it back to the gate without interference. Snapping a teleport crystal remained an option, but something inside him kept hesitating against the idea. "It isn't far. We can make the rest of the trek on foot." Ba

Mere moments passed before the rest of the Midnight Ripper joined its already ruined head, crumbling into little more than glittering diamond dust. Even that soon vanished into oblivion. A strange silence reigned over the stillness of the slaughterhouse that this part of Aincrad hadn't known in ages. This was the first time the Ripper had ever died. Even its meat puppets stood in frozen vigil, as if waiting for instructions on how to proceed. Their vengeful spirits having been sated or quelled, or maybe just confused by the fulfillment of a possibility they had no precedent upon which to

Freyd was already sitting by the shores of the Lake of Reflections when he received Mina's invitation. Recent events with Elora and Oscar in Snowfrost had brought darker memories of this place to the forefront. Given the nearby woods, such things were not easily dislodged once they took root. Yori's bloody shirt hanging off the tree at Tanabata had been haunting his dreams ever since, verging them towards nightmares. He'd have to fill Elora in on what happened, when he got the chance. Right now, they had a contest to win, which probably meant Freyd was about to get swallowed and spat

Panic gripped the Rip, but as his struggling increased so did his chains bind him tighter. Bloodshot eyes bulged, desperation growing as sensations of impending doom bloomed, combined with awareness of his role in his own undoing. Powerful as he might be, the Ripper's chains had been forged to keep even the strongest in line. How ironic. Screeching now, his voice having upped its game by three octaves, Freyd watched on as time ticked to the clock of a conveyor heading for the crunch. It was going to be messy when this clock struck noon. Something in him called to let it happen; to pu

By now, Freyd had pieced together a strategy for the fight, divining what tactics would be needed to keep his enemy off balance until he could put him down for good. Best laid plans came to fruition as the chains he'd previously tossed into that conveyor grew taught. Already struggling against his own embedded weaponry, the butcher jerked and slipped into the much once more, now being dragged ever closer to the meat grinder to whom he'd previously fed so many meals. Their descendants, or a kind, stood drearily watching, mostly though rib eyes. "Oof. Bud. I almost feel bad for you, cu

"Sorry, bud, but that's a definite 'nope.'" Skating by in the sludge, Freyd scooped from below and sent the fearsome Ripper flailing, then falling on his ass once more. As his arms went up in his failed efforts to catch himself against the air, so did his meathooks. The Whisper was more than willing to abscond and add a little insult and injury. Flipping acrobatically over his fallen foe, Freyd caught and supercharged the enemy's weapons with his sword art, punching downward to drive them into their master with painfully powerful intent. The Ripper howled, thrashing about as his ow

"Laugh it up, puppet. I'll have you back on my hook n a minute, and then it'll be time to fillet you." Freyd snorted. "I'm more of a striploin kinda guy, actually. Just ask Aldenbrook. She'll be sure to tell you all about it once she gets her panties un-knotted. Come to think of it, that could take awhile." The hearty bellow that followed shone an unexpected sense of humour, and opportunity. Freyd lunged mid-guffaw, his legs spinning like a helicopter as he slid through the mucky slime soil, tripping his enemy and flensing a good chunk of his groin away with a devouring pa

Persi tore through the ranks of shambling meat - more like scampered, actually. Freyd couldn't help wondering whether she thought it was some kind of buffet. The distraction was enough for him to have lost focus, even if only for an instant, which was all the Midnight Ripper needed to recover. The man-thing roared, drawing a pair of jagged, deeply stained hooks with chunks of prior victims still attached. Freyd zigged when he should have zagged, missing his own attempted strike. The Ripper didn't. Snaring the Whisper by the back of his cowl, it flung him sideways into a pile of rusty, bl

Like a midnight missile, streaking silently through the night, Persi struck the bilious butcher square in the small of the back of his knee. Buckling instantly, Freyd seized the opening created and leapt high to deliver his first blow. Snaring and tossing one of the thing's chains into what looked like a massive meat grinder, he flicked a lever with a passing foot and started the steam-driven conveyor, all the while pummeling his foes to keep it from regaining its balance. It managed to rise to its knees again before a well placed pile driver flattened the Ripper's face back into the bl

Great, stinking piles of putrid meat, staked like cordwood, lined the outer edges of the camp, most bled to grey and wretched with flies. Nearby pits filled with offcast bones and skins too gruesome to explore amplified the level of gore to beyond extreme. A charnel house might have been more welcoming. In the centre of it all, a massive, hulking thing on two legs, layered in chains and wielding cleavers, heaved its bulk as it stomped about the place with perverse, demented glee. Though it bore none of the treacherous red threads he'd encountered across the floor, this place certainly foll

A wisp of dark, fowl-smelling fog wafted over the broken marsh where Katoka waited. When it passed, the shade of a lone figure remained. Leaning casually against the trunk of the dead tree solemnly marking the stark harshness of the landscape, he might have been just another figment or stray calling in the wind. Such was the way with Whispers, summoned or not. He stood in silence, observing her in silence for several minutes before a stray glance noticed him hugging her peripheral vision. Freyd couldn't imagine the state of his friend's heart. He had no frame of reference. Though he

A solemn shadow loomed on the threshold. No one could say how long he'd been there, pensively watching the smith toil towards his good intentions. Freyd admired the young knight, full of zeal and optimism. He'd always been more dour and morose himself, at least until recently. It made his choice both easy and obvious. This was a man he could trust, with altruism and hope to guide his way. Had Raidou seen the same in him once? Doubtful. Freyd had always been more ruthless and bloody minded in resolve, than anything else. Ren's approach was always easier on relationships. Feeling t

That one extra step was all it took for the stench to waft through the forest and assault his nostrils with pure decay and rot one might normally associate with the aftermath of a massacre. Freyd nearly wretched on the spot, clenching his abdomen hard to keep his avatar from upchucking his latest round of buffs on the spot. "What the hell is that?" Whatever it was bypassed Survival's common protections, meaning that the system didn't consider it an environmental effect. Fists clenched and taking on a defensive posture, the Whisper waded forward with as much stealth as could be mustered

Chuckling at Mina's comments about having three damage dealers in the group, Freyd had to admit she wasn't wrong. He was less a tank, and more about just being good at getting under mobs' skins. Precisely why was open to debate, but at a better time. "War fans, huh? Neat. I had Samael's Pride swap from a sword to a staff to bits of cloth wrapped around my hands." He shrugged, by way of explanation. "If you feel it suits you, then all the better. They're also beautiful, which really never hurts." Wulfrin had already done his thing, leaving the lion dazed and vulnerable. Freyd

"Oh, it doesn't so much sell leeches, as it's simply full of them," came the odd man's casual response, a wave of his hand dismissing Abdullah's establishment with disdain. Two others approached, attracted by signage or spectacle, possibly both. The Whisper had a talent for showmanship, or maybe it was just that people could always be counted on to gravitate towards a freebie. "Ah. Excellent. This will make a full group. Welcome all." Party invites appeared before Acanthus, Typhoonflame and Forgotten-Ember, to participate in a quest labeled <<Bloodstained Land>>. As a s

Emerging from the Fire Woods, having only just broken off from the rest of the party that had faced off against Owib'je, Freyd found himself near familiar ground. A farmstead he'd encountered during his initial escape from Glyndebourne lay several hundred yards to the east, barely visible through the tree line. Morningstar, Hirru and Mina were already safely clear of the forest, having regrouped with Ariel, but he preferred to make his own way. It seemed prudent for him to approach the town separately in case whatever crimson menace had afflicted his previous passage somehow still afflicted