Freyd

Blissful silence.  The chaos of battle drowned in the muffled pounding in his head and Freyd tried, unsuccessfully, to inhale the beach.  Using that particular trick always took its toll, but was worth it when it connected.  Fortunately, it had.  Crackling air, dulled by an overwhelming urge to sleep, bandied itself in the clouds overhead.  Except those clouds were a storm, and that storm was trying to kill them.

"Oh... right.  Still fighting," he mumbled groggily, lifting his face off the floor and leaving an imprint whose details he failed to notice.  Katoka was doing her thing, and well as always.  

"Gotta pound the angry sky."  His balance shifted unevenly as he lilted sharply to the left, reaching out to brace himself as he swore that gravity was playing tricks on him.  Stumbling awkwardly forward, momentum helped to refocus him on what was happening.  The next time lightning flashed, Freyd noticed the mottled pattern of shadows cast upon the shore by the mob's own shaded exterior, like its clouded body served as a lampshade to contain some of the light.  Perfect.  When the next flash occurred, he reached out and snared those shadows with his will, coalescing them into coherent shapes: and army of Whispers to overrun this bloody menace.  Launching themselves against the swirling morass, they dimmed its fury while they swarmed, Freyd using it all as cover to smash the thing with another hefty blow.

"It's waning!  Just keep at it!"

***

Freyd wandered the expansive halls in silent musing, wondering whether this place somehow existed outside of time.  There was no true connection to it, and everything else beyond.  It was as if one could exist here and simultaneously elsewhere, but such were the vagaries of a digital existence.  Who was to say that anything was as they perceived it.  The entire existence was an illusion, at its core.  

Approaching the same terminal as before, he renewed his previous order, having already consumed its predecessor.  It had served its purpose well, as would this one when the moment came.  That was what seemed so odd.  Wasn't he still also there, scrambling for dear life in some other corner of these infinite realms.  It was as if each and every aspect of himself could feel the other through the void, just the slightest bit too far to actually reach.

"Nah," Freyd declared, deeming the thought exercise too extreme.  "That would just be weird."  Claiming his prize, the dropped it into a vast yet never sufficient inventory, and turned back to resume whatever it was he was supposed to be doing.

***

2024-03-17

Weather the Storm | ID 220244
Applies PARALYTIC IMMUNITY to the user for a single thread.

"What do you mean," Freyd cried out in response to Katoka's query.  "Water conducts electricity, right?  Stab the fucking thing with lightning." To her credit, she did try. Fortune just wasn't smiling much in that moment.  Maybe it had sand in its eyes?  He knew his companion would rebound, possibly literally, given the opportunity.

"Okay," he huffed, still shuffling about clumsily trying to find his own bearings with a storm literally bearing down upon him.  "So we go with plan B?  Maximum effort!"  Launching himself high into the air in a manner taught to him long ago by the inestimable Oscar, and possibly borrowing a little from Deadpool, Freyd came crashing back down like a meteor.  Parts of his addled brain felt like he might have been channeling some similarly named ancient sword art, but he was too caked in sandy sludge-muck to focus enough.  On a brighter note, a giant orange streak had been blazed along one side of the whirling vortex, though it was soon subsumed back into the rest of its roiling mass. 

"Ugh...," Freyd fumbled, clearly exhausted by the effort.  "Keep it busy for a second, will ya?  Just need a minute."  And, with that, he flopped forward, face first onto the beach.

***

Freyd genuinely smiled as Nari struggled to explain her reaction.  Not because she was embarrassed, but because it was so very human to feel the need to conjoin the bond of emotions over such a moment.  Grace dictated a courteous silence and acceptance.  Mirth smiled in his eyes alone, revealing weary laugh lines few rarely realized were there, most especially himself.  They walked in the void again for a time, Freyd serving as guide once more and placing his companion's hand upon his shoulder, this time without reservation or hesitation. They were just emerging from the underground when Nari spoke once more, asking a very familiar existential question.  Something twinkled behind his eyes as she spoke the words, though he kept his cowl in place to hide it.  

"This is a death game, right?"  Not quite the response he imagined her expecting. "After all, those who perish never return - at least so far as we know."  He paused again, as if leaving space between his breadcrumbs. 

"And we know this because we were told.  But, who told us?  Our jailor?"  Mischief curled the visible edges of his lips exposed beneath the framing of his hood.  "This world is a lie, Nari.  As is everything we have ever been told about it.  Kayaba proved himself a liar dozens of times over in the very infancy of our digital existence.  Why should we possibly cling to any of his words as if they contained even an inkling of truth?  Because the best lies always do?  Meh.  Can our presence here make a difference?  Can we change things here?"  He laughed aloud at the rational absurdity of the questions.  "Nari, we don't even actually know if we are here.  Think on that.  Given everything that the Nerve Gear could allegedly achieve, would it be so far afield to consider that we might not even and truly be in here at all?  If they could create all this, couldn't they just recreate images of us in here as mobs, as well?"  Turning and tilting up his head so she could see, his eyes left no doubt that he meant every word with utter seriousness. 

"We don't even know that we are who we think we are.  We might be nothing more than figments within figments, playing out infinite permutations in the bowels of Cardinal's memory banks. Descartes would be very proud," he added, chuckling again.

"But we are more than mere doubting things - or, I am at least.  The rest of you can make up your own bloody minds.  I am also a very capable liar, most especially to myself when I don't want to believe a thing, or desperately feel a need to believe it over all other evidence to the contrary.  People are funny that way."

Turning his gaze forward again, he led them back into the woods, sights set upon the Groves at Baobab.  "It's a conundrum that I call 'The Thing Behind All Lies', and it lays at the core of our existence, behind all veneers including the questions you are asking.  Are we changing the world around us?  Of course we are, because we are changing ourselves.  Maybe we are real.  Maybe we are not.  What does any of that even mean?  What is 'truth' versus existence?"

They had reached the outskirts of the Treant's sacred place before either of them could register the full depth of the mind delve such thoughts could provoke.

"The only questions that really matter, Ms.Not-Lanreth, are: what do you want your world to be, and who do you want yourself to be while in it?  Everything beyond that is merely an obstacle or a tool towards achieving it."

Groaning against the inside of his own cowl, Freyd pondered Morningstar's words before grudgingly having to admit that he was behaving badly.  The thought of Elora glaring at him for being such a poor sport would inevitably haunt him, even if she never actually learned of the incident.  The very fact that she'd expect better was enough to set him straight.

"Alright, alright," he muttered with a sigh.  "Yes, I have the tracking skill.  What was that fellow's name again?  Alvin?  Albion?  No... Alvion.  Got it."  The man's image would forever be etched in his memory as an armored chipmunk with a large yellow 'A' embroidered on a blood red tabard. Freyd didn't seem to be speaking to anyone in particular, moreso focused on catching up on the previous conversation.  Turning to stare at his own shadow for a moment, the others would see it splinter and shift, creating a duplicate of itself to run off in the same direction at the Cinnabar knight. 

"So, are we actually expecting this to end in conversation, or is there some sort of other plan here?  I'm not in the habit of picking fights with other players, regardless of their sinister intentions.  It's a waste of resources."  Spoken like a true appraiser.  "They also seem quite keen to unleash their little pets upon us to justify their own delusional conspiracy theories.  If this is who we're dealing with, I'm not sure that reason will get us particularly far."

The remainder of his shadow stretched an arm out, pointing in their direction of travel and completely independently from its caster's motions.  The scene was more than a little unnerving, if also somewhat comical.

"He's a few hundred yards off, dead ahead.  Can't we just unleash their own monsters upon them?  It seems like sweetly justified turnabout, if you ask me."  Behind the words, Freyd was more concerned that these maniacs were acting no better than the very worst of PKers, letting mobs do their dirty work and sparing themselves rightfully earned orange markers for their efforts.  Their self-professed vendetta against the alleged callousness of frontliners was such utter nonsensical claptrap that it actually made him irate just thinking about it.

Freyd's eyes widened to swallow saucers at Nari's outburst while he mentally struggled to decipher what had set her off.  Cowl swiveling to and fro, seeking some sort of external stimulus she might have noticed that he hadn't, it wasn't until he realized that she was basically tossing the guard's head his way that he finally clued in.

"You're... squeamish?!  YOU?"  A heartfelt guffaw bellowed out, completely inappropriate to the solemnity of the context - the mourning guard having just sacrificed itself for the sake of its woods.  "Huh.  Wouldn't have figured that," he finally added, his normally pale face actually flushed from the exertion, voice hoarse and raw and he struggled to croak out his words.  Collecting the faceless stump of a noggin the thing had left behind, from where Nari had dropped it, he dusted off its surprisingly smooth features and stared into their absence as if it were a mirror.  With his cowl up, it might as well have been.  A moment's pensive connection showed as he placed his open palm upon the surface, as if tracing strange, invisible lines.  The act drained any lingering mirth from him, replacing it with a saddened serenity.

"Yes, you're right," he replied, as she suggested they depart, still sounding throaty like he hadn't quite yet digested whatever frog he'd attempted to swallow.  Part of him wanted to push and ask what spurred such an extreme reaction, but that might prove more embarrassing or haunting than the outburst itself.  "Thank you, my friend," he whispered with unexpected reverence to the hunk of wood as he tucked it under his arm and turned to leave.

Wulfrin took the situation in stride, which in others might have been believed to be no more than bravado, but the man had shown more than a glimmer of awareness at the potential outcome of their situation and failed to flinch.  Likewise, Nari faced the dilemma of all tanks: thinking that if they just sacrificed more, then could deny fate its claim upon their wards.  Life didn't work that way; nor did Aincrad.  To her credit, that realization was equally accepted.  

"A second jaunt through the Cave of Wonders," Freyd mused aloud with lilting laugh and grin, masquerading around the truth of their circumstances.  "How could we deny ourselves such a treat?  Thank you kindly for the invitation. I believe we will accept."  They would all read through such thin veneer and understand his paltry effort, but he made it anyway.  Nothing should deny their opportunity to save face in the aftermath of their courage.  Facing the specter of ones own fate or potential role in setting it into motion was never easy.  Wulfrin and Nari had both acquitted themselves well. All that could be done had been done.  Now came the time to roll the dice.

"I will not let you down. It will be a great honor for me to fight along side all of my mentors at once."

"Well said.  The rest falls on all of us to skew the odds in our favour."

Turning towards the cavern depths, Freyd strode onward feeling like he was wandering once more into Wushen's lair at the start of the last raid.  Five lives rested on his shoulders that day.  If they could pull through that, this would be child's play.  Something called to him from within and he found his gaze drifting down to his own disappearing shadow, being swallowed by the murk beyond the last vestiges of light.  He found it staring back at him, slowly nodding as it faded from view.

It didn't take long to reach the outskirts of the main chamber where two large bronze effigies shaped like whirling dust devils stood still on either side of a narrowing gap. Such an obvious choke point only confirmed their arrival at the second stage of the dungeon.  Freyd was denied any chance to call out a warning.  Merely approaching proved enough to trigger their inner works and set them both to whirring and chuffing, gradually picking up speed.  Slipping through the void between them, the Whisper instantly streaked forward, hoping to catch the mobs before their mechanisms could fully ramp up.  Emerging out of thin air from a cluster of shadows over the leftmost automaton, he came hurtling down and smashed the thing knocking it back against the cave wall.  Its own accelerating rotations immediately sent it careening off and away, bits and parts flying in every direction. Drawing upon the added momentum, Freyd matched its motions and spun himself forward off of it even faster as he veered and crashed into its counterpart.  The cavern drowned in a blinding white light.  When it faded, moments later, nothing remained of their second foe save a drifting shower of scintillating sparks and a finger pointing them towards where the other one went.  

***

Loot Bronze Golem 2: ID #219994 | LD: 16+10+2=28 | CD: 2
4900 col (HP[700]*7 - incl. +4 CD/LD even, +3 Prosperity)
T4 Perfect Consumable 219994a
T4 Perfect Consumable 219994b
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 219994c
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 219994d

"Right? Right!"  Freyd first seemed to satirically question then seek to reinforce Nari's assertions.  "What she said.  All of it.  Good job."  A swift pat on the shoulder was made awkward by the pair of glaring orange punctures in this torso.  "Ned, says 'hi', by the way, and recommended that we should recover this 'cypher rune'-thingy as a means of ushering in said peace."  The lanky darkly-clade male bobbed and weaved around like a wet piece of spaghetti trying - and failing - in its efforts to remain upright against gravity.

"The elder tree is wise, if occasionally stubborn."  No explanation seemed forthcoming, conjuring the image of pots and kettles in Freyd's mind.  At best, it seemed to be some reference to whatever might have sparked the conflict in the first place, but he really didn't care. Even being the lore-fiend that he was, the prospect of more deaths on both sides was too pressing to allow for the sake of delving.

"Fill us in next time?  Yeah?"  Stuffing a pair of spindly-fingered hands into missing pockets, Freyd teetered back and forth on the heels of his boots, wondering if 'plodding' was somehow a celebrated trait among both factions.  No wonder the war had lasted so long.  They clearly had no concept of brevity or how to conceive a proper skirmish.  The faceless guardian merely surveyed him in stillness and silence for a few long moments.

"If I give you the seed, this place will fade from splendor and I will wither with it - until the next cycle begins.  Be sure to mark the significance of its passing."

Mouth opening and words streaming to the tip of his tongue, they all remained unspoken as the wooden figure completely removed its head and handed it to Nari.  The sound of a snapping twig was all it made as he turned over his charge, causing the rest of his body to collapse to the ground and shrivel inward on itself.  The Whisper's mouth snapped shut in time with a wrinkled brow.

"A tad dramatic, Mourn," he added with a quiet, private smirk. "But your sacrifice is truly appreciated."  Strange, subterranean twilight was already settling over the cave, the power of the place having instantly been diminished by its loss.  "Let's hope it was worth it."

"We spotted the open hellmouth for the dungeon, which was unusual in and of itself," Freyd replied while summoning a small buffet of num nums and setting a bizarrely shaped platter with small round dishes of creme brulée laid out in convenient portions for each to partake.  "That only tends to happen when the full party doesn't pass through all at once, in my experience, or your group is undersized.  Glory guts over here," he jerked his thumb over his left shoulder, towards Morningstar, "rushed in before we could consider things."

Downing a few sundries as chasers, the Whisper looked like he must not have eaten for a week. The more experienced among them would notice it as a cause for concern.  Freyd didn't open the larder up for nothing.  "Did you open this place, Nari?  Because I'm really hoping you're about to tell me you just found it laying out in the open.  Otherwise, our friend here may be about to have a very bad day."  It was clear he meant Wulfrin. 

"Here," he added tossing an assortment of other consumables, having intuitively engaged his appraising nature to gauge some of the novice player's struggles.

"The portal closed behind me when I passed, and since I'm seriously doubting you want to waste your one and only shot at accessing this place, that means we're not likely breaking out the teleport crystals just yet.  Am I right?"  Judging by their faces, he probably was.

"A T4 dungeon," he whispered to Nari through clenched teeth while turning to tighten a boot strap he didn't have.  "This kid's good, Nari, but he could end up as a smear on the wall.  What were you thinking?"

Clearing his throat, and dusting a few offending crumbs from the edge of his cowl he resumed a more upbeat demeanor. 

"So, we doing this thing, or does anyone else need a minute?"

***

Freyd consumes:

Gugnir’s Shard (Untradeable/Unique/Reusable Consumable): Crème Brûlée Tray | ACC 2 | Feast (6/6) - takes 1 portion [filled] and shares rest with party.
Armageddon Juice (Potion) | Damage 3 | 197167
Madlad Muffin | Tierless Rare Meal | EVA 2 | 216700
Jackpot Pretzel (Snack) | Loot Die 3 | 197257
Divinity's Wait (Meal)| T4 Mitigation 3 | 188387
Hearty Soup | Tierless Perfect Meal | Overhealth 3 | 195558b
Mousse (Snack) | PROSPERITY 3 | 196147-1
Troll's Blood | 202544c

Updated Stats:

Freyd | HP: 1334/1334 | EN: 154/154 | DMG: 25 | MIT: 80 | EVA: 4 | ACC: 8 (inc. AA) | BH: 73 | LD: 9 | PROSP: 3 | BLGT: 32 | PARA IMMUNE | P.V.O | REC: 8 | STK: 40 | TRLBLD

Freyd gives the following to Wulfrin:

Concentrated Joy (Snack) | T2 Vitality 2 | 159103 | 160739
Fleeting Happiness (Snack) | T1 Vitality 1 |159466
Divinity's Wait (Meal)| T2 Mitigation 3 | 163167

Jerking reflexively as the guardian's spear left his body only to be thrust into a different part, there was a limit to how many free shots this thing was going to get.  Watching a similar attack have negligible impact when made against Nari, he wondered what sort of ordeal this might be for less experienced players.  Most of them would likely choose violence instead, and he couldn't really blame them.  Nodding in agreement to his partner's words, Freyd felt compelled to pile on.

"You could also really stop with the stabbing at any time, since it really isn't conducive to our purpose.  Or, you can keep at it, if you want, but after a certain point you're really just proving how fruitless this entire war has been."

A final pivot and stab against Nari's far heavier armor clanked sufficiently loudly to amplify his words.  This was the first moment since switching his own armor for lighter fare that he'd truly come close to regretting the choice.  Standing still in combat wasn't normally part of his repertoire.   A quick sideways glance confirmed that the mob's strike had done nothing to the knightess.  As quickly as they had begun, the attacks ceased.

"Oh good.  Much better.  Can we try with the words now?"

***

Freyd regains 63hp from BH.

Mourning guard automatically hits Freyd.  DMG (165-45=120)

Freyd | HP: 983/1160 (1040+63-120) | EN: 154/154 | DMG: 21 | MIT: 45 | EVA: 4 | ACC: 7 (inc. AA) | BH: 63 | LD: 6 | BLGT: 32 | PARA IMMUNE | P.V.O | REC: 8 | STK: 40

Freyd's cowl peaked out from behind a half-dozen glowing UI windows, the contents of which were obscured to anyone but the owner.  Morningstar's comments about the Cave of Wonders had piqued his interest, having encountered such phenomenon only once before.

"No," he started, hesitantly, as the screens containing his vast stores and inventory spontaneously shut.  "They are no naturally occurring, so far as I have ever heard.  And if they did, I'd have run them a dozen times over by now.  Those things are literal gold mines."  Swiveling to search, including glimpsing through the sights of local shadows, revealed no other presences.  Could some other player have simply opened theirs here?  The coincidence was possible, though highly improbable.  He was still debating whether or not to risk stumbling into someone else's dungeon when Morningstar's back vanished around the first tunnel turn and the portal began to shimmer.

"Ah, crap.  Can't leave him in there alone, can I?"  A lunge and dive slipped him through the closing eye just in time to tumble back to his feet on the far side, racing ahead to catch up.  Even the cowl itself seemed to flare wider with surprise, as did both Freyd's concealed eyes beneath said hood, in coming face to face with two known allies.  Morningstar had already engaged the four mummified goons making nuisances of themselves and carrying the signature tells of the first wave in the dungeon.  Wait... Nari's here.  That means... The Whisper's gaze fell upon Wulfrin with immediate concern.  Action first.  Words after.

Grabbing the first guardian from behind, by the wrappings around its waist, Freyd yanked harshly upwards to essentially jerseying the poor mob.  As it stood flailing, he spun and kicked it into another adjacent hostile, both of them popping like the dust cloud out of a freshly opened back of Doritos.  Said cloud provided him the cover he needed to scoot low, passing just under Morningstar's wide swing to grab the next mob by the throat and spear it into a sharp outcropping along the cave wall.  The last found Freyd's knee driven into its crotch, crumpling it like an under-stuffed build-a-bear, only to receive a swift follow-up punch to the face.  Violence promptly concluded, Freyd turned to casually greet their companions.  

"Uh, hey, you two.  Doesn't it kinda seem like a bad idea to take on a dungeon at this tier without any backup?"

Behind him, the last remaining mob twitched and writhed in electrically induced seizures while Freyd playfully counted down its final few second on his right hand fingers.

***

Note: Mega-Slime Farm used.

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

Freyd | HP: 1160/1160 | EN: 154/154 | DMG: 22 | MIT: 20 | EVA: 2 | ACC: 5 (inc. AA) | BH: 63 | LD: 6 | BLGT: 32 | PARA IMMUNE | P.V.O | REC: 8 | STK: 40                                                

***

Loot Cave Guardian 1: ID #219915 | LD: 5+7+2=14 | CD: 1
+4 materials (+4 CD/LD odd)
1200 col (HP[400]*3)
T4 Rare Trinket 219915

Loot Cave Guardian 2: ID #219916 | LD: 5+7+2=14 | CD: 12
+2 materials (+2 LD odd)
2800 col (HP[400]*7 - incl. +2 CD even, +2 from roll)
T4 Rare Armor/Shield 219916

Loot Cave Guardian 3: ID #219917 | LD: 6+7+2=16 | CD: 2
2800 col (HP[400]*7 - incl. +4 CD/LD even)
T4 Rare Trinket 219917

Note: These values exclude the +50% col bonus at the end of the Cave of Wonders dungeon.

"None shall near the Tree of Mourning! Not while I still have life to give!" 

"Uh... sure?  That's a little overdramatic, don't you think?"  Freyd chuckled internally at the paradox.  "We've come to help put an end to the war between the elves and treants, at the request of Queen Haelia herself.  Rest easy, big boi.  There's no need for us to fight."

"LIES," barked the wood-clad guardian, even as it dawned upon the Whisper how much this figure resembled both parties to the conflict.  "Your kind have wrought nothing but harm since your arrival in these lands.  Elves and treant alike have been afflicted by your greed, fighting over the cypher rune and the powers it grants.  If you speak true, then you must endure what the forest has endured, for she will be the one to judge you."  Rushing forward before either player could respond, it made its attack, Freyd sidestepping it with ease.

"Hey, now.  There's not need for any of that.  Dial it back a bit and maybe we can talk this out?"  It wasn't in Freyd's nature to simply accept getting stabbed without due process.  Another player - one he'd counted as a friend had struck him once, in reactive haste.  He'd nearly turned her into dust for the incident, the look of abject terror in her eyes freshly stirred up in his memories.

"No," came the guardian's abrupt retort.  "Blood is the basis and nature of the trial.  To deny the sacrifice is to declare yourself an enemy."  It moved with speed and precision akin to a dungeon boss, forcing him to wring himself about like a pretzel to keep clear.  

"Fine!"  Freyd snarled back, surprising bitterness soon replaced with calm as he snatched the tip of the thrust spear in mid air.  "Fine."  Echo to his own word, it came the second time without the vitriol of its predecessor.  "If that's what you require, then you can have it."  Standing from his crouched stance, the Whisper pulled the tip of the spear to align with his chest, and thin layer of black cloth he wore as protection. Tilting its large mask-like helm in response, the Mourning Guard paused, then thrust with all its might.

***

Mourning guard automatically hits Freyd.  DMG (165-45=120)

Freyd | HP: 1040/1160 (1160-120) | EN: 154/154 | DMG: 21 | MIT: 45 | EVA: 4 | ACC: 7 (inc. AA) | BH: 63 | LD: 6 | BLGT: 32 | PARA IMMUNE | P.V.O | REC: 8 | STK: 40

Internally, his machine mind logic was screaming at him not to trust, not to risk, and keep all possible distance and precautions in place.  Countering the harshness of those instincts was an empathic and familiar voice tinged with female and Irish overtones.  She was the one to nurture his fledgling humanity to emerge and assert itself against the cold and dark defenses that had forged themselves around his heart.  Somewhere between paranoia and understanding, there stood a Freyd, who amazingly reached out to take a risk.

"We both lead the blind on a regular basis - notably including those who still think themselves sighted."

Nari would feel the warmth and gentle press of spindly fingers on her vambrace, lifting her arm to place her palm upon his shoulder.  His back was open and vulnerable, and he knew it.  In this death game, there was no greater risk and it was one the Whisper understood completely.  Part of him wondered at how much the inner tension carried through the muscles in his shoulder.  Cardinal could be surprisingly precise and meticulous with such details, when it chose to be.  

Setting himself to the task at hand, he led them slowly and steadily deeper into the tunnel, offering occasional warning or instructions regarding outcroppings, trip hazards or open ledges.  After a half an hour of slow creeping, the two spotted a subtle phosphorescent glow ahead, emerging into a large open cavern overgrown with lichen and other organic growths.  A virtual fungal forest spread out beyond the extent of their vision, sprawling into adjoining side caverns and tunnels in a manner that would have pleased any Jules Verne enthusiasts.

"Not what I was expecting," Freyd breathed, struggling to keep the wonder out of his voice.  Despite his practiced calm, the scale and splendor of the place was undeniable and only grew more intense as they wandered deeper into the subterranean wood.  Various flights of insects flittered about the space, providing ambiance and believability to the scenery.  It even felt alive.

"So, if you were a mystical cypher rune, where would you hang out?"  

***

ID 219839 | LD 5+7=12 | Searching for Treasure Chest (Failed)

Freyd heard some, but not all of what Nari whispered to herself under her breath.  Judging by her demeanor and the conversation to date, they held compatible perspectives on their circumstances.  Her comment about refusing to chase after divinity earned her a smile and chuckle.  He knew what she meant, and took the declaration to heart.  This manner of candor was refreshing after the endless and ineffable dance required by most others. Both of them scanned the derelict war camp as they entered, Nari's wary eye surveying for dangers while he set about poking and prodding with black-gloved hands.  

"Speak for yourself," came a jovial retort when she claimed they were similar.  "I'm..."  Whatever witty retort was brewing died in his throat, Freyd's shoulders slumping ever so slightly.  Nari deserved better than his endless routine of deflection and misdirection.  She was right.  They were akin, or at least as much as two individuals from different branches of fate could arguably be. 

"No.  You're right.  We are broken, and in similar ways.  It's a rare thing to find someone else who truly understands what that means.  It would be insulting to pretend otherwise after the truths we've exchanged.  You're an unusual bird, Nari-not-Lanreth.  I'm glad those pesky winds along the castle's edge never succeeded in claiming you.  Let's both keep howling back against them and see how far  defiance carries us."

Sifting through ash and rubble with his boots, he caught a glimmer of something metallic - unusual among elven and treants alike.  Wiping more debris aside revealed what first looked like a decorative plate or bit of filigree embossed over some discarded placard.  

"This is iron," Freyd added, running his spider-like fingertips along the rune.  "Sylvan folk aren't overly fond, as I'm sure you're aware."  His appraising skills were showing again.  "To get this level of detail would have required fine craftsmanship.  I don't pretend to understand the full meaning behind the symbol, but elf and treant alike would have shied away from this."  Slipping two fingers into revealed slots, he pulled, and the leaf dislodged, revealing a tight, narrow passage descending into the dark.

"I can see just fine down there, and can serve as scout if you need a free hand to work a glowstone.  But I'm guessing that whatever this," his eyes scanned the desolate camp, "was meant to cover for, is actually down here."

***

ID 219818 | Searching for trap door | LD 10+6=16 (Success)

"I have heard it said, Bob, that war can turn lives upside down, but I wasn't really expecting you to demonstrate it quite so literally."

Flailing like the heaviest pinata imaginable, here hung what should have been one of the most imposing mobs of the game.  War looked positively laughable, flopping around like a turtle on its back, his massive sword hissing and steaming as it lay on the ground a few feet away and out of reach.  Raging with boundless fury, the mob couldn't even reach the saddle straps that somehow miraculously kept him attached to his horse.  The mounts itself had lost most of its furor, sniffing around in a futile search for hellgrass, or whatever a beast of this type might prefer to graze.  

"Now, the sporting thing to do would be to cut you down and make this a fair fight, wouldn't?  War has rules, after all?  Don'tcha Bob?"  Inverting himself had peeled open War's metal skirt plates from the  rest of the knight's carapace, making it look like some sort of mechanical flower had bloomed to reveal a stubby pair of thick legs and embarrassingly oversize cod piece.  Freyd flicked with with his fingers, producing an obnoxiously loud and resoundingly hollow clank.  "Ooof.  No worries, bud.  We'll keep this strictly between us.  But, unfortunately, I'm not very good at following rules, which I suppose fits in well with all of your unwritten ones."  Air quotes were added for emphasis.

Driving his knee hard into the figure's face plate swiveled him back like the flap on a pet door.  When the pendulum action reversed its direction, Freyd matched his initial strike with a solid blow from his fist paired with the screeching keen of oblivion's hunger.  Samael's Pride flared in its notoriously apt manner, driving its way through War's helm as if it were a hot iron piercing cotton candy.  Wrath's load suddenly became a lot lighter, as the rest of its rider melted into motes and spilling to a wide, glowing pile all around it.  The horse had found its grazing ground after all.

"You deal with that," Freyd pointed at the ground, running his hand along the thing's mane.  "I'm gonna go help some buddies and then we can finish this thing together.  Sound good?" Wrath whinnied playfully, eager to have found an oddly kindred spirit.

"Nice job, Morning," he shouted across the field.  "Go help Kat.  I've got Nari."

***

Note: War's DMG had increased to 260 prior to being defeated, rendering it eligible for looting.

Loot War: ID #219816 | LD: 12+7=19 | CD: 7
+2 materials (+2 CD odd)
6750 col (HP[1350]*5 - incl. +2 LD even)
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 219816a
T4 Perfect Trinket  219816b

Freyd had wandered over to the shattered container from which the flaming elemental had emerged, righting it and using it as a stool while Vigilon and Krysta said their peace.  Throughout each player's replies, he just sat there, chin resting against this loosely curled fist, eyes half-lidded and glazed over.  When the latest Cinnabon-dude wandered out of nowhere, Freyd's face slipped down into his open palm, thumb and index fingers pressed to opposite temples for a moment before sliding back down to cup over his mouth.  A single arched eyebrow gazed in staggered amazement as this 'knight' laid out his case against the frontliners, acting suspiciously like a shill Vigilon might have put up to whatever all of this was actually meant to be.  Allowing his eyes to dart sideways momentarily to glance towards Morningstar, the Whisper said nothing before returning to his initial pose, save bringing up his second hand for apparent moral support.  

As Alvion left, Krysta urged them to wait, not that anyone appeared ready to rush off after the man.  Freyd just looked at his wrist again.  

"Forty five minutes," he added, tapping his sleeve with disinterest.  

Freyd's appearance shifted before them, his bizarre leisure attire darkening then bleeding into inky liquid before reasserting itself into his more conventional attire.  Trademark cowl now firmly in place, the Whisper offered no reaction to Vigilon's aquatic conundrum.  Any intended barbs found no purchase.  Whatever he was thinking, he simply kept to himself.  Only the odd mallard-handled fishing rod remained of his previous getup, which he promptly tugged at to collect one final catch before being dismissed to the ether.  

"Don't be so quick to dismiss the value of a guild, Kyo," he offered quietly.  "Trust and allies can go much longer in this world, and what it has become, than can be accounted for in any amount of game marketing or whatever Argus' original design intentions might have been.  No one will survive this game alone." He turned and withdrew from the edge of the lake, nabbing one last sandwich for the road when Vigilon delivered his message.

"Cardinal says Hello."

Half-turning his cowl so that the lower half of his face could be seen, Freyd's lips were pursed in a confused half-smirk.  

"Uh.  Okay.  Not sure what that's supposed to mean, but please remind him that he still owes me five bucks and few hundred players' souls."  Stuffing his hands into his pockets, the enigmatic fellow started walking back towards the nearby Forest of Memories.  "Thanks for the break, gang.  It's been a slice.  See you out there, and give me a shout if you need anything done about that serial killer.  Might be something to it... or not."

***

Fishing ID 219787 | CD 11+1=12 | LD 1+1=2 | +1 Material 
Practiced Angler: (+2 EXP/attempt, +1 CD, +1 LD when fishing)
No Olympic Fishing Tool
R5 Fisher | CD 4+ for mats; LD 8+ for Chest, CD 12+/LD 17+ for Gleaming Scale; +5 to LD when opening fishing treasure chests)

***

Thread Closing:

Kyo receives:

804 EXP (Word Count [16089/10*1*0.5])
400 col (1 page [400])

Vigilon receives:

5,628EXP (Word Count [16089/10*7*0.5])
844 col (1 page [0] + 15% P5 Reward [844])
3 Materials (Foraging [3])

Morningstar receives:

4,020 EXP (Word Count [16089/10*5*0.5])
603 col (1 page [0] + 15% P5 Reward [603])

Freyd receives:

12,864 EXP (Word Count [16089/10*16*0.5])
1,929 col (1 page [0] + 15% P5 Reward [1929])
3 Materials (Fishing [3])
T4 Perfect Weapon 219190a
T4 Perfect Weapon 219190b
T4 Rare Weapon 219190c
T4 Perfect Weapon 219605a
T4 Perfect Weapon 219605b
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 219605c
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 219605d
Random Dungeon Map 219605e

Stabbing the open palm of its steaming gauntleted hand into the smokey air, war grasped at the swirling smoke of detritus and debris that served as its retinue as it faced off against the irreverent Whisper.  Clenching the ashen air, the rider conjured a blade of pure blackness and forced the cinders in the congealing smoke to alight with the power hatred and rage within itself.  It was the very embodiment of carnage and fury, astride its red wrath and ready to unleash countless untold atrocities upon the poor fool standing dumbly a hundred feet in the distance.  Baleful laughter echoed within the thick plate armor encasing its form, resounding like an artillery barrage rising to cacophonous crescendo.  Raising the sword over its head, a flash of lightning struck at the tip sending sparks raining down over its imposing form.  One might be forgiven for wondering how such a massive steel-clad creature could even be borne by the steed beneath it, yet wrath seemed as uncaring as it was ready to be unleashed.  Flames spewing from the crimson nightmare's mouth as it bucked and pull against its bridle.  Only the rider's will kept it in check, even then only barely.

Freyd, meanwhile, stuffed his hands in his pockets.  The most ignoble insult he could imagine by which to insult his eager and belligerent foe even further was to utterly dismiss his pomp and douse his ego with a cold shoulder.  So, he looked bored, tapping at a random cobble from the ruined street beneath his feet and tilting his cowl as he shuffled it around like an improvised hockey puck.  When thunder crackled in the wake of War's calling, the Whisper raised an open hand towards his enemy, lowering all but a single finger - possibly urging it to wait.  No.  That would have been a different finger.

A deep, unsettling rumble of a gathering storm reverberated from within the rider's armor.  Lowering its weapon towards its target, War raised its thick, plated legs to dig its spurs into Wrath's haunches and decimate this impertinent little...

*tink* *tink* *tink*

Something had tapped its left shin guard, effectively ruining the moment.  Confused, the mob looked down to find a second and much closer Whisper standing inches away on its flank.

"Hey.  Miraak says 'hi!'"  Instantly, Freyd drove Samael's flaring pride upward and straight into the underside of the hulking knight's jaw.  Gravity pulsed at the impact, which would have launched him airborne were he not actually strapped to his mount and weighed down by an Abrams' battle tank worth of steel plate.  The buckles holding the saddle were less resilient, snapping loose and swiveling the armored figure comically clockwise to pivot head-first into the ground.

The shadowy, distant Freyd gave them both a thumbs up before winking out of existence.  The opening salvo was a hit.

"Don't believe your own hype, Bob," Freyd muttered aloud, rolling his eyes as War's legs flailed helplessly, pointed straight up into the air.  "War ain't all it's cracked up to be."

***

Even as Katoka finished off the other mobs, artfully returning her katana to its sheathe and stylishly flaring her thumbs up at her companion, the decidedly anime-worthy finish fell a little flat.  Freyd wasn't looking.  Instead, the spoopy moron was staring up towards a suddenly sullen and rapidly darkening sky.  The whole thing had a very Oz kind of feel, of the variety with potential to launch you from Kansas to Aincrad in about 3.2 seconds, probably ending in a very jarring and violent impact.

"Uh... I'm thinking this is that other thing that I may, or may not, have accidentally poked in the eye while I was down in the depths.  Maybe."  The ever-growing morass taking shape over their heads started to swirl, picking up speed and setting the lake spilling over the beach as increased air pressure pushed down upon its surface.

"Oh, that cannot be good," he added, redundantly.  Lighting crackled beneath the waves as a massive arm of inky black water reached up as if to grasp the sky.  Snatching only air, both players were distraught to see the forming funnel siphoning the emerging creature up into the air.  Yanking itself from the lake in the least orthodox manner imaginable, a twenty foot tall oil slick in humanoid form  shambled angrily towards them for having disturbed its slumber.

"You got a stash of wet naps, or something?"  Before Katoka could answer, Freyd and Persi had already launched themselves against the surging foe, driving themselves with sheer brute force against the unthinkable horror and staggering it with apparent sheer audacity.

***

Absorbing Krysta's and Vigilon’s comments with the same calm he expected would be required against the upcoming raid boss, Freyd's brow furrowed only modestly.  Mulling over both of their perspectives, he glanced sideways to Morningstar before looking back to both of the other players.

“In the coming raid, if a member of your party spots additional mobs off to the side from the main chamber and runs off randomly after them instead of focusing on the boss, how would you react?” Raising a single eyebrow to Krysta, the parallels to their present situation were obvious. “Please consider the different stakes in play at the moment.  I’m not dismissing the risk that these mobs could be too dangerous for other players to handle.  But there are literally hundreds to thousands of other players available to handle such threats.  How many of those are qualified and promised to participate in the front lines?  Maybe fifty?  How many showed up to the pre-raid meeting?”  They all knew the answer.  It was barely a dozen.  

“The four of us represent nearly a quarter of the entire raid group.  Without us, they and their efforts are at risk.  I'm not prepared to do that for the sake of chasing after these cretins.”  Jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the large box from which they’d loosed their monster, Freyd was stern without sounding unsympathetic.  In his mind, it was a matter of triage.

“Please reserve your moral indignations," he suggested, coldly. "Reprehensible? Maybe. But these are also the harsh realities of war.  Look around, princess, because that is our life here. They call them the front lines for a reason. Best get used to these types of choices if you intend to join them.”  Crossing his arms over his chest, Freyd’s mop of unruly black hair swiveling Vigilon’s way before continuing.

“And as to that mess on floor six,” he added with a sigh, “we were both within sight of Krycim when those idiots tried to provoke a fight - which would have been suicide while within reach of the city guards.  A few strides away from provoking them and you’d also have been perfectly safe.  Instead, you chose to challenge them to a duel, as I recall.  You poor choices are not my responsibility or burden to bear, Vigilon.  Poking the bullies back only made you stoop to their level, and I wanted no part in it.”  Pursing his lips to clamp down his tongue before there was any chance of him actually growing irate, Freyd allowed himself a sigh followed by a deep breath and slow exhale.  Rotating his arm and looking down at his wrist for just an instant, he chose to offer a compromise rather than indulging in any more distractive nonsense right before they all had to go face a floor boss together.

“Alright.  Look.  We have about two hours before the raid is meant to begin, and it will take us at least thirty minutes to reach the labyrinth guardian’s chamber as conveyed by NIGHT.  That gives us about an hour to investigate and save the world before we actually have to go save the world.  Unless we find anything more compelling by then, I’m out.  Deal?”

 Only Morningstar would have noticed that Freyd had no watch on his wrist.

Freyd was actually in his shop for a change, doing the unthinkable and sorting through the vast assortment of miscellaneous junk he'd accumulated over years of grinding and questing across every imaginable corner of Aincrad, and then back again.  Dingo had been given the day off, mostly to keep him from interfering.  The kid meant well, but was so lazy that sloths looked like hyper-caffeinated squirrels by comparison.

"Spare weapons?!  Pfft.  You'd be doing me a favour.  Here," he added, calling into existence a massive pile of mishappen objects, each of which held the potential to injure someone.  "See what you can do with those.  They should... uh..."  He tilted his head, as if that was somehow meant to provide additional insight.  "Yeah... they should all be tier four, maybe... probably... I think.  Just bring me back a handful of mystic essence at some point and we'll call it even."

***

Freyd gives Morningstar 30x T4 UNID Perfect Weapons:

[202575b] [202575c] [202586a] [202586a] [202592a] [202592b] [202592c] [202601a] [202601b] [202601c]
[213804c] [213804d] [213290b] [214161a] [214162] [216163c][214163d] [214381b] [214410a] [214410b]
[214410c] [214978a] [214978b] [214978c] [214978d] [214978e] [214979a] [214979b] [214979c] [214979d]

"We are all monsters," he repeated, as if this perspective had yet to be considered to its fullest.  Doubt flooded his mind at the prospect and ran a dozen simultaneous scenarios, knowing what he knew about those he considered most noble or innocent in this world.  The mental effort expended to reconcile the outcome in so brief a time might be considered epic, under different circumstances.  Such was the abundance of data to be processed, tabulated and compared.  So many of the variables were subjective, denying attempts to quantify or even qualify beyond the realms of instinct or opinion.  People were so hard to model.

"Evelyn," he echoed, burning the name to memory, the bulk of his attention still hyper-focused on Nari's other words and determination, both blazing with fierce fire behind the armor of her eyes.  "We are in agreement, in principle.  I'm not some reckless madman tearing through the universe like a raging bull towards a distant bloody curtain obsessing my focus and driving me to oblivious destruction.  The potential and consequences of my actions are crystal clear, and tempered by measures of wit, prudence and subtlety.  I aim to be a scalpel, not a tenderizer.  Our goals sound very much aligned, as do our promises, and you can rest assured that I will never throw lives away with callous disregard.  But," he interjected sternly, "I am prepared to make the inevitable choices when they come; the leader's burden, if you will, where fates are decided.  It is the true test of anyone who would take on such a role, and few are properly prepared to face it."  Calm afflicted every word, devoid of any negative emotion or inkling of ego.  It was as if the man had none, functioning instead upon a rare and contemplative self-awareness that had led him towards a place of zen.  He mused a moment while she barred his passage, content to entertain her resolution.

"Do you know the tale of Paul Atreides?  He's a character from a series of novels called 'Dune' that has long been a favourite of mine.  Paul was unique in his ability to accurately foresee the future - all potential futures, in fact - and steer the course of human history towards or away from certain outcomes.  He could manipulate fate.  I'm not suggesting that either of us has that power, though perhaps our vows cause us to share some sense of similar responsibility.  The peril of prescience is that some outcomes remain inevitable.  No matter what decisions or moral choices you make, certain consequences cannot be evaded.  They can only be postponed.  That is our dilemma.  How far will we go to protect the ones we love, the lives of others, our principles, and ultimately our very selves for the sake of that promise.  How much or how many can be sacrificed?  There is no right answer.  There are only choices, extending into infinity and reflected upon by those moments of inevitability."

Crossing his arms as he spoke, Freyd gently stroked his chin with the oddly synchronous beat akin to the pacing of a metronome.  She could have set a clock to it, with certainty.

"The author offered a mantra by which some characters in his stories could prepare to face such monumental choices, including Paul.  They called it the Litany Against Fear."  Clearing his throat, Freyd summoned a massive greatsword from thin air, holding it upon two open faced palms.  The blade was polished black steel, with a an elongated hilt and wide cross guard.  Fine and elaborate script was engraved along the black blade's fuller, which he read aloud on the assumption that she was not already familiar.  That he carried such an item spoke to the importance and consideration be placed upon the passage.

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Dismissing the blade as swiftly as it had been summoned, Freyd took a deep breath as if refreshed by its refrain.  Was he telling her this to provide Nari with some sense of comfort when facing her fears, or trying to quell his own?  In effect, regardless, it served to restore and reinforce his perspective through review.  When Freyd finally continued, he seemed at ease with himself once more, a hint of joy and warmth finally spilling into the space behind his words.

"I will not cast aside love for foolish pride.  Nor will I set aside wisdom or need for the sake of selfishness.  I will choose hope.  If it means that I must be cut to reach the end, then so be it.  I accept that as inevitable consequence for daring  to walk so brazenly along fate's cruel knife's edge.  And, to whatever extent it may be in my power, she, along with every other soul that we can spare, will reach the end alive.  Does that satisfy your concern, Nari?  Would it be worthy of Evelyn?"

Accusations of 'dad-joke in the third degree' brought an ear-splitting grin to the Whisper's face.  He was no father, and certainly had no father figure to look up to in his youth, though certain lingering doubts pointed memories towards the efforts of his grandfather.  That was about as close as he'd ever got.  

Quiet and resigned as Nari laid bare her speculations about his fears, Freyd simply listened, staring at the ground before them as they walked beneath the shuffling bows of the forest canopy.  Streams and beams of light danced before them as a gently, nudging breeze swayed the forest to its silent tune merely by its passing.  Nari's revelations of her own fears and doubts about Onora were dutifully absorbed, including her own path to reconcile what she assumed were similar origins for his own concerns.

"I'm glad you found each other," he replied sincerely, once she had said her peace.  "It sounds like your feelings for Onora might provide you with a path forward previously obscured by grief. I mean that only in the most hopeful manner, and not to diminish the details of your prior loss.  Nothing can truly do that.  But thank you for sharing those thoughts and insights.  They ring as both wise and true, in the context you describe."  Pausing as he walked, Freyd seemed to be gathering his thoughts before continuing.  

"My fears, as you call them, may not be what you think.  I'm not afraid of suffering loss, but more of causing its effects and consequences.  It's a reality we all contend with every single day, in this life or any other - though perhaps acutely so in here."  Waving his hand around, the contrast of such ominous talk against the beauty of their surroundings felt jarring.  "I'm less concerned about external threats than I am about the one I represent, myself.  I have no illusions, Nari: I am a monster, for no other reason than my willingness to do whatever it takes to get me to my goal - even a selfless one.  It was precisely what drew my friend to ask me to swear my oath in the first place.  He knew, as I did when I made it, that I would take absolutely any action necessary, even if meant sacrificing those things I care for the most in this world.  That isn't fair to them, and it's what terrifies me - knowing I could... would, make that choice. Doing so would validate every accusation of being a heartless abomination that I have or may ever face.  And I know that I would still stay the course, because it is my nature."

Freyd paused, as if struggling to reconcile that reality inside himself once more, like it was weighing down his very soul and tearing him apart from within.  Looking upon him, only now did she notice that none of the dancing beams of light from above managed to touch him where he stood, moving everywhere save the place he occupied at any given moment.  Shadows crowded against him, around him, as if cradling and jealously sequestering his presence for themselves.  Maybe there was more to his nickname than most ever assumed?

"So, to carry forward your words, knowing that I would make the wrong choice for the right reasons, can I live with those regrets?"  Without answering, eyes still downcast, Freyd resumed his forward march.  The very light of the forest parted once more against his resolute and relentless advance.

"Having an orange mark is no joke," Freyd replied with dour bitterness.  "I've known a few players who have had it, and it carries significant drawbacks.  Imagine not being able to enter any town for simple provisions, or access teleportation portal.  We take for granted the simple task of moving between floors, but asking someone with an orange icon to go from the Town of Beginnings to this floor is a lengthy, risky and potentially exhausting ordeal."  Glancing over towards Kyo, he nodded in general agreement.  "You're not wrong about justice in this world.  It's fleeting, at best.  And fickle enough that people can earn themselves that same damning badge over their heads for the simplest of infractions."  Leaving the rest of the exchange around design intent untouched, Freyd saw little point in speculating.  This was the world they had, whether it was meant to be otherwise or not. Watching Vigilon continue to flail with the flounder trying to eat his arm, instead, he flicked his rod back out to open water while whispering something under his breath.

Without warning, a tiny black shadow slunk out from under his hat, darting towards the open picnic basket, nabbing another sandwich.  Persi's brilliant blue eyes opened wide as she pounced on her prey, proudly returning to her master with her prize.  Freyd wished he'd been more clear and took the now-soaking snack in a free hand, muttering a half-sincere thanks as he squished it between his fingers trying to wring out the water.  Letting slip the discussion of a potential serial killer, Freyd knew too well how common such reports could be.  The terrifying truth was that such individual existed throughout all of Aincrad, and more were added daily as people succumbed to the psychological pressures of their torment.  It was too dire a conversation and would ruin their relaxation to delve into it deeply.

"Plenty of people have found ways to reach for a sense of normalcy.  One woman I know started an orphanage for younger players who were without or have since lost their parents.  Another friend took a gaggle of youngers under his wing and taught them to survive.  Plenty of players make due with their trades or push the limits on what the system will permit just through sheer creativity.  You'd be surprised, I think."

"I highly doubt you could make a sword out of fish. Trust me, I've tried your theory about materials being universal for crafting...it doesn't work. 

Something bit on Freyd's bobber with suspiciously conspicuous timing, as if prompted by Vigilon's remark.  The fisherman yanked, reflexively, pulling a massive marlin out of the shallows - far too large to have ever possibly have been swimming in their midst.  And yet, there it was, hovering in gloriously slowed bullet time over their heads, its giant gleaming sword-like nose glaring against his companion's statement.  The fish popped, mid-jump, turning into a series of system reward prompts that included both weapons and armor that were instantly added to Freyd's seemingly endless pile of such items stored in some ephemeral, otherworldly inventory.

"Hrm," he added, somewhat smugly.  "I think Cardinal just disagreed with you."

Freyd started laughing as Morningstar laid out his plans for a gardening guild.  "Actually, I'm already in one of those.  Firm Anima is a crafting guild started by Raidou, among others.  I swear that man amassed half of his mad skills just by wandering Aincrad picking plants, petals and roots one by one.  It's an oddly impressive accomplishment for someone who became one of the most renown tanks on the front lines.  Sadly, my own duties in the guild are a little less...uh... floral?"

***

Fishing ID 219604 | CD 10+1=11 | LD 13+1=14 | +1 Material | Critical Catch!
Practiced Angler: (+2 EXP/attempt, +1 CD, +1 LD when fishing)
No Olympic Fishing Tool
R5 Fisher | CD 4+ for mats; LD 8+ for Chest, CD 12+/LD 17+ for Gleaming Scale; +5 to LD when opening fishing treasure chests)
Opening Fishing Treasure Chest | ID 219605 | LD 19+5=24
T4 Perfect Weapon 219605a
T4 Perfect Weapon 219605b
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 219605c
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 219605d
Random Dungeon Map 219605e

"Eh?"  Face scrunched up in an expression that might have been best described at delightfully offended, Freyd held the pose for the entire duration of Sbruce's (possibly Ned's) entirely too lengthy explanation.  Only when the all the treants had departed did he finally relax, massaging his cheeks with both hands to loosen the rictus that was setting in.

"Oh, goody.  This quest also has a fetch component.  How nice.  Should we gather some boar tusks and dandelions as alchemical fodder while we're at it?"  Clearly joking, Freyd was already heading towards the appointed location.  "They were also all 'Ned', by the way.  I'd pinged the name with Tracking on our way here and gotten multiple returns.  It might explain why the elves have never had much success in rooting out the treant leadership.  Rooting... pfft."  Snickering at his unintended play on words, he led them back into the woods and away from Baobab's heart. Growing pensive again, and revealing a hint of blush at Nari's question, Freyd struggled to find the appropriate response.  

"It's not a topic that I'm particularly good at.  I've spent a lot of time studying people, learning their collective tells, patterns, motives and idioms.  You can get to reading people much like you can predict the idiosyncrasies of mobs, with enough practice.  It's really remarkable how similar the two can be.  Suffice it to say that it's led me to comfortably anticipate what people will do, but not always why - especially in matters of the heart.  Those observations are rarer and more... difficult.  The logic is... fuzzy."  He walked in silence for a few moments.  "I also have someone special in my life.  Like you, it just happened over time, and my ignorance kept me oblivious to the feelings for a very long time.  It felt more... natural, as a result?"  The question seemed aimed at Nari as much as himself, as if searching for confirmation.  "Part of me recoils from it, considering the attachment as a weakness to be exploited by enemies and placing the one I care about at risk.  The rest of me doesn't give a damn and wants nothing more than to have her at my side during every waking moment.  Does that make any sense?"

From anyone else, the entire tone of the conversation might have seemed absurd, but his words carried a desperate hint of need for confirmation mixed with the uniquely sublime state of bliss that can only be known when one truly cares about another being.  The entire exchange was oddly child-like in nature, veering slightly towards a touch of the uncanny valley.