Freyd

"Lady, I've got a thousand mats right here, but noooooo.... go pick five more she says." Griping was a sure sign that Freyd felt like his time was being wasted. Having given up on flowers, he'd switched gears and moved to checking local trees and shrubs for usable resources. Bark, leaves, berries, even the sap had its potential uses. Never having spend much time on crafting - actual proper making stuff kind of crafting - had left him woefully unaware of just how many collectible items the game offered. Wiping a heavy bracer across his brow, Freyd chose to swap out his gear to more sui

"I don't know how Rai ever found the patience for this sort of thing." Distant memories resurfaced of endlessly picking assorted fronds and herbs during the First Lessons quests. It hadn't taken him long or far to travel to find a decent patch of suitable ground, no doubt restricted in proximity to the quest for the sake of new players desperate to cut their teeth on a new profession. Freyd's interest was similar, but purpose altogether different. "Shouldn't appraisal help with this sort of thing?" Prodding a cluster of dandelions to confirm that they were, in fact, nothing more than

The vial in question had been far more difficult to retrieve than most would appreciate, lost at the bottom of the Stygian River, dragged who knows how far by silent but relentless currents. It had taken him days to scour, collecting all manner of junk in the process, so much that Quip might have blown several gaskets at the mere piles of debris left strewn along the shore. So much unbelievable junk, oddly including a vast assortment of musical instruments. Freyd recalled wondering if it was where Performers when to die or throw in the professional towel. Maybe worth a mental note, if he e

"Felt. I can't even count the number of times I must have taken down this mob, or its alternate. It was practically a favorite pastime, for a while." Floor four had long felt familiar and welcoming to him, though Freyd couldn't say why. Maybe it was the harsh serenity of the place that appealed, or the fact that his friend Haine had her home here too. "I thought long and hard about making my home here, once, but was surprised by how many others already do. Something about this level seems to attract people, like a warm cozy hearth in a storm." Peering through shadow revealed the locatio

"Yeah. Cardinal tries to trip you up by scaling down player power on the weaker bosses to keep them relevant. Trick is to go for the sword arts without rank. They bypass the suppression." As if to demonstrate, Freyd pivoted on the spot, planting his foot forward as his charged his blade and unleashing the art in a wide arc of blue-black energy that swept the field, smashing every bug it touched, queen included. The rest of the swarm froze, droning in suddenly stillness as their matriarch was summarily executed and half their skin reduced to shattered pixels in an instant. "See?"

"No more tired than any other day. I take my breaks where I can find or make them, like this." A quick salute with his mug saw him down half the scalding contents, a clenched hissing behind his teeth as if he was somehow enjoying the brisk burning torture. Freyd wasn't entirely sure where things stood between them in the aftermath of the Lancaster debacle. Right now he didn't care, just being happy to spend time with his friend for the sake of offering her improved odds in her coming battle with Redemption. No one had ever faced the mob, to his knowledge. If anyone had ever tried, they'd

Not a far jaunt from his shop in Urbus, Freyd was either up early or just never went to bed. It was tough to tell which, since the man never seemed to rest. No wonder he drank so much coffee. Or was that just another bit of theatre for the masses? Truth was he actually drank it rather rarely, often saved for fireside chats or an occasional visit with Marv in the Town of Beginnings. Those opportunities had grown sparse of late. After the shit show that had developed at Mari's home, he felt he owed it to her to repeat the ritual, maybe even make it one of their signature things. She

2x Grindstone | [2 Tokens] -3 Field Boss Post Count requirements; reduces this value to a minimum of 1 post. Stacks with Spyglass. Applicable for one Field Boss Spawn, after which the buff expires. ID Tags: 248437a | 248437b

EAL: Artisan quest eval. Name: Replica Curse Compass Your Profession: Artisan Your Rank: Rank 0 Roll ID: 248430 Roll Result: LD 30+, CD 12+ Item Type: Trinket Tier: T1 Quality: Perfect Enhancements: LD 3 Description: A reasonable replica of Giovanna's cursed compass, synced to some strange connection between its wielder and their... Link:https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/42445-pt-sp-01-blueprints-to-old-magic/?do=findComment&comment=699625

“I tried, though now I understand your hesitation.” He had to play at ignorance, selling it as a distinction. “Few people appreciate how cages are safes working in reverse polarity.” Laughing Coffin’s tools were too well known to Freyd by now, and Lancaster was too wily to be so simply fooled. Unless the dupe lay behind the obvious. He needed to distinguish himself the nemesis Lancaster had fled. “But you’re too much of a coward to leave your fate in her hands, too reckless to wait for her sake, aren't you?" The words a deadpan realization as much as an accusation. "You’re comm

The scent was off. Fate, it turns out, has a metaphysical smell. It had taken him awhile to wrap his own brain around that one, especially the notion you could sense it at such distance. Maybe it was a celestial pheromone thing, or infernal by the local aesthetic? He knew enough to know both might apply. Freyd was no stranger to Knoriit, or the hike to reach it atop Mount Hellion, traveling south from Yogan's portal. He'd made the journey many times, in older days. Darkness provided the most convenient expressways, for those willing to dare oblivion's chill, or perhaps be native to i

Returning to the shop less than an hour after his departure, Freyd laid out all of his scavenged materials across the trainer's work table, eagerly engaging in speculative jargon and technobabble like some sort of DIY maniac, complete with excessive jazz hands. Carefully tinkering away, seeking the NPC's insights at every turn, he produced what was heretofore impossible: an appraiser crafting a trinket, not just identifying some randomly collected bit of dead mob paraphernalia. The components required considerable time and effort to individually shape and alight, several having to be re-work

One of the unique aspects of Aincrad's crafting system was that everything revolved around the ubiquitous 'material' as its raw protoplasmic currency. You could gather an eggplant and process it through the system mechanics into a vase, timber beam, sandwich or katana. As bizarre as it was, it worked, without carrying over any aspect of the original form or substance. At least, at the most basic levels of transmutation, the principles held true. Few people were eager to try a steel smelted hot dog, or chug sulfuric acid turned cider without some understandable trepidation. The close you w

Sundry other items collected, Freyd made the rounds of the environs, plucking from what others would ignore or discard. The recycling mascot from his old elementary school would be so proud. "Hrm... a glass face to suit? That might be a taller order. But, Malachi would surely have the proper tools and cutters. I just need..." Where to find a conveniently sized pane to serve his needs. It wasn't like he could just pluck one from somebody's window, at least not without unwarranted sanctions and consequences. Most of those would also be too thick for his purposes. Flat glass al

Pocketed and added to a running mental inventory for real time assembly in the not-so-distant future, Freyd's gaze turned to a nearby junk dealer's table. Stray, half-empty spools of fine wire mixed in with a buffet of other flotsam. Keen eyes instantly upon the prize, haggling to follow promptly while feigning interest in other fare. The Whisper's true intentions never revealed, yet components obtained through guile and misdirection. He was actually enjoying himself, trailing after nothing more than the barest of clues, wondering whether it might lead to something conceived in the darkest o

The salvage piles, often confused with refuse, seemed an obvious starting place. Most players disregarded the contents, thinking them to be little more than discarded waste. Freyd's edgy shop in Angel's Point made this place seem like table scraps by comparison. He'd filled an entire monastery campus with junk, tentatively organized with a complex piling system. Quip claimed he was just a hoarder. Probably accurate, but he still successfully leveraged his obsession to considerable benefit. "Hey Billy," words spoken in absence of a witness as he passed a side alley. Seconds later, a

Freyd's machine mind was a peerless analytical engine. It made him a good appraiser, though it was a skill he also often turned outwards, gauging companions and enemies alike. Giovanna's bizarre compass had snared his attention, along with the sudden addition of new skills previously inaccessible due to past choices. If the constraints on professions had been loosened... a smirk turned into open grin. Deconstructing the odd tool the NPC had provided to search the woods, he needed to recreate something similar for his own purposes. Something he could keep. "Malachi." Not someone

The compass clicked in his hand, needle flicking back and forth erratically between his torso and the shard in his hand, like it was trying to tell him something. Brows furrowed, trying to follow its meaning, suddenly pulled between two equal poles, yet it wasn't spinning like before. The pull had become more strongly polarized with some strangely familiar affinity. Blue eyes narrowed, then flared in glimpsing possibility. "Here? How? Why? Which one...?" The needle flicked back and forth "Shit. Is it already out?" Racing back to the nearby village, Freyd dropped of

The compass seemed broken, its needle spiraling without purpose or obvious intent. "Seriously? How does a compass get lost? Is this some sort of weird Jack Sparrow shit?" The thought of Disney copyright infringement somehow proving to be the source of their rescue from this nightmare held its own twisted appeal, but no dice. Turning it every which way made no difference, the things clearly lacking motivation to fulfill its purpose. Choosing instead to rely on his own skills and senses, Freyd backtracked Giovanna's woodland travels to the site of her mishap. A broken log laid where i

Most players would have simply picked up the quest, ignoring the NPC's condition to go on about their business. It was true that he reserved a certain deliberate spite towards certain specific ones, Abdullah in Fortaleza foremost among them, but mild mannered quest givers like Giovanna and Zackariah in Tolbana had never done anything worthy of such disrespect. He knew they weren't actual 'people', whatever that even meant in the world gone mad and explained with nothing more than the words of a mad jailor. More than a few times, Freyd had mused to himself how none of them might be people, or

"Are you sure you're alright?" The old woman clung to his arm as he escorted her back from the woods to the village. "It's not safe in these woods at night, Giovanna. But you know that. Why were you out so late by yourself?" Head bandaged, long skirt scrunched into her gnarled hands, guided by the warrior's lantern, she'd pat his black bracer sympathetically. "Nothing notorious, I promise you. Just gathering along my daily routes. I must have taken a spill at some point and bumped my head, spilling my basket in the process. In the time it took to re-collect everything I'd dro

"Hmmm...?" Akir wheeled at the curious looks from her surrounding kin, as if they wondered what she was doing. Forest greeted her sight, then shrieks, her victim having flow the proverbial coop. "Ohohoho.... so it's to be hide and seek, is it? I have a better version." Hand outreached towards a random silhouette in the penumbral crowd, her fingers curled as if upon a leash and tugged. One bidden by a mistress' invisible tether stepped forth, its vagueness of form giving way to pale leonine features, a cocky smile and brash fiery mane "Yes...what could we make this one do, I wonder?"

♪ ♫ ♫ ♪ Mari made quick exit, emotions overwhelming her. Freyd suspected trouble imminent. She would never leave these two alone without some other exacting scheme to set the cindered world alight anew. “You really love her, don’t you?” Words rang out as conflicted as their speaker, they pained him just to voice aloud. Freyd hated this man, for reasons more than two lifetimes’ memories could validate. Knowing every facet of his callous monstrous nature, this was the first and only moment he’d ever glimpsed even a modicum of decency in the bastard conqueror’s heart. S

"The head of the guild thinks rather highly of you, and the fact is. I respect it." Bold. Stupidly bold, though half a truth was wiser in its own right. Mari might lap up this sort of spreadable schmooze like Hollandaise. Freyd remained firmly unmoved, and was actually more of a mustard man. Maybe he and the King in Yellow held more in common than originally thought? "I could prattle on and on about all the little details, but given how much you are feared amore. I would imagine, there is a reason for this. I will not waste your time" Too late… and stop calling me a moray. Th

Watching the two of them awkwardly enter like a pair of dodling teenagers instantly conjured images of an older brother being introduced to his sister’s newest badboy douche bag sweetheart. If he was also one of the nation’s most wanted murders, an unrepentant thief, thug and arsonist - all of which Freyd knew to be true, and far worse. However touching, it was hard to think of the man before him as anything other than a selfish, callous, craven thug. He could be both, but the acceptance of it was hardly an improvement. "Guess looks can be deceiving. No offense. Amico" That he wo