Freyd

Purchase:

Deliberate | [1 Token] x5
Gain +1 to CD rolls for one thread, or for a day's allocation of crafting. Stacks with consumables and enhancements.

244885a
244885b
244885c
244885d
244885e

Rank 5 Appraiser (Base: BD 10, CD 8+ for unique, 10 identifications per day)
+1 to CD from Hermes’ Scale
+1 to CD from Deliberate | 244885a
+1 to CD from Witch's Brew | 244267c
+2 EXP: Hard Working (also +1 IDs per day)
+2 EXP: Lucrative (Firm Anima) (also +2 IDs per day)
+1 EXP: Custom Ambition Tool (bought from own shop 2020-07-16)
Crafting Respite | Dragon's Breath | 174619

Identifications:

26x T4 Perfect Items (@3040 col) = 79,040 col
26x 1st Rerolls (@1,000 col) = 26,000 col
26x 2nd Rerolls (@2,000 col) = 52,000 col
23x 3rd Rerolls (@4,000 col) = 92,000 col

3x 3rd rolls offset by:

Total Cost: 249,040 col due to banker

Junking:

14x T4 Perfect Items (@1900 col) = 26600 col

Total Value of Junking: 26,600 col

Net Cost to Banker:  222,440 col 

Appraisal Rolls (Items 1-13)

Appraisal Rolls (Items 14-26)

Note: Post links for Acquisition IDs in the rolls below could not be confirmed as this feature is currently not functioning in the site roller.  All efforts were made to locate the source threads, without success, likely due to them dating back to nearly two years ago.  This matter was raised with staff for their awareness.   Staff understood and instructed me to submit for evaluation as is, without the post link info.

It wasn't a victory, but at least it once again stood a chance of becoming one.  As players from all corners of Aincrad rallied against the proliferating tides of glass and madness, the front lines found themselves gaining ground thanks to a few choice enemy defeats.  Organizing themselves into parties best suited to their respective tasks, Freyd had joined up with a few trusted friends to break the enemy lines near Donoghue's Inn & Tavern.  Not yet familiar with the area, they would have to improvise, as all had been forced to do since first setting foot on this accursed floor.

"Wulfrin.  Stop blowing her kisses and keep your eyes sharp."  The advice was sound, though the Whisper's tone was more lighthearted than any of them had heard in a while.  Shattering more than a few Spectral Knights had definitely livened the mood and improved morale.  Grief and mourning would come later, once the cloud of annihilation had passed.  Until then, even smirk and jibe that coaxed a laugh was fair game, and precious fodder in the field.

***

Note: CS (Shades of the Gemini) and CSA (Beckon the Void) are in use.  If any other player objects to these, please state in first post and it will be considered inactive.

Freyd consumes:

Elixir of Wrath (Potion) | Tierless Perfect | Damage 3 | 196575c
[Draught of Safeguard] - T4 Perfect Potion | Mitigation 3 | 218110-1

Freyd consumes and shares with party:

Gungir’s Shard (Untradeable/Unique/Reusable Consumable): Smokin' Hot Honey Bun Tray | ACC 2 | EVA 2 | Feast (6/6) + ACC filled

Freyd gives the following to KnightessCiela:

Troll's Blood | 202053f

Freyd | HP: 1320/1320 | EN: 164/164 | DMG: 24 | MIT: 212 | ACC: 8 (incl AA)  | TAUNT | F-SPIRIT | EVA: 4 | BH:73 | VAMP-D: 73 | VAMP-O: 145 | PARA-V | LD:5

"She also typically answers in half-truths and obscurities.  Not provably lies, but hardly ironclad truths either.  Be careful there."

Freyd suppressed a smile at Sam's mention of Hadgar. Rosaria never operated directly.  She manipulated others to do her dirty work and stuck to pulling strings in the background.  It was how she'd managed to keep a green marker, despite being one of Aincrad's more prolific players killers, indirectly at least.  The O&I captain's original offer had been a safe bet, since he already knew Rosaria's name never appeared anywhere on the monument.  What interested her more was that she called it 'his little black book' and not Raidou's. That spoke volumes, and he wasn't sure he was comfortable with it, serving only to reinforce his earlier combustive decision.  

"Rosaria's 'a' leader within their eclectic guild, but not 'the' leader.  That dubious honor belongs to another. As far as the rest of your details, you might have swayed me sooner if you'd started with those. This is more actionable intel, and reliably reinforces your other guesses and assumptions.  Sometimes, that's all we have, but it's always best to link together as many strands as possible before leaping onto the web."

Watching Sam wander and sit, she was still fidgety as a squirrel hopped up on cocaine, but at least she seemed to be slowing down.

"I'm already familiar with Tak, Simon, and Luke, and their fates.  Hadgar's too, truth be told.  You might be surprised by how closely I watch the monument, or that I appear there as a cause of death twice myself."  Not his proudest moment, but the only possible choice given the circumstances.  Now wasn't time for its retelling.  

"Okay.  So we have a prospective location: the Underdark.  That's still half a floor.  And all of Laughing Coffin's leaders are smart enough to remain untraceable.  So what else do we have available to help us narrow our search, and how do you plan to get around the fact that you'll earn an orange marker yourself if you kill her?"

Freyd let that one sink in while he took another sip.

"Yeah.  her marker is green."

Pouring the second drink, Freyd took her observations in stride.  Candor was rarely a problem, the man’s own brutal pragmatism having long since done away with any ease for getting under his skin.  

“You remember,” he replied, a pensive, pleasant smile spreading as the cool mountain winds dried and tossed stray unruly hairs atop his head. 

“Amari.” It felt familiar, like she’d somehow told him before and it had been buried in the snowdrift of a thousand lifetimes since they’d last just sat and chatted. Realizing how much had happened to him in Aincrad made it feel like forever, but not in a bad way.

“You took me to your home, once.  Feels only fair that I should extend the same courtesy.”

Scissoring his legs like the stilts on some sort of powered lift, he stood on the spot and reached down towards her with an open free hand. It mattered to him that everything he offered was a choice.

“Warm bath. Warm blankets. Warm hearth. And no town guards or strings attached.”

Downing the rest of his drink, glass and bottle were both instantly consigned back to his inventory as he guided them towards the sheltered private refuge. As they reached the edges of the plateau upon which rested and ended the High Fields of Crossing, Mari would see a deep, broad green valley nestled into rocky cliffs and landscape etched by several small waterfalls that collected into a small pool at their base. Following the flow led the eye to a sprawling, homely abode of wood and stone, dimly lit as if simmering deliberately in its isolation.  Smoke trickled from a chimney or two as lights flickered with orangy warmth from within.  Waters fell further down to the lower tiers of the floor, just beyond, cloaking the entire area in a cloud of mist.  Fortunately, the dominant winds kept it away from the house, providing the perfect quiet shelter.

“We call it Witherwind Rest.  And you are always welcome here.”

***

Details and images on Witherwind Rest can be found here.
 

Glass clashed against steel, chips and razor shards spraying around like shrapnel as the knight's form poorly weathered the blows. 

"They're like sacrificial lambs, cannon fodder for something else, to keep us distracted and worn down."  A disturbingly effective strategy, not that Freyd could tell who he was meant to be addressing. “I have its attention.  Go now!”

Wounded players scrambled to safety behind him, their faces an awkward mix of terror gratitude and shame, though there was no call for the latter.  They’d already answered the call and done their part, price paid in the life of a friend.  No one would fault them their needed reprieve, though one blue-haired lad struggled, clearly wanting to help. 

Barely a moment sparable while wheeling mid-melee against their deadly common foe, Freyd’s keen eyes had already garnered enough detail from a skewed glance at their gear to deduce what had happened. None of them were tanks.  It didn’t take much to deduce what had happened.  

“Go with them,” he snarled more aggressively than he meant, a dozen vitreous shards raking across his blade and armor simultaneously.  “They’re going to need you to get through this.”  Blue met blue, eyes locking long enough to convey what time would prevent in words and the other nodded and fled after his companions.  And now, the price.

Getting hit by a bus might have felt similar, if the bus was a solid mass of glass and concentrated its impact entirely to his stomach.  His breath went one way while Freyd’s body flew hard in the opposite direction, smashing a Whisper-shaped hole into the canyon wall.  Whatever satisfaction the mob might have felt was short lived as shadow spewed the angry warrior out from the far wall.  Catching the same breath he’d just left behind, Freyd crashed into his enemy with the full force of its own blow, sending them both sprawling like a pair of colliding tops.

Skidding to an eventual stop, covered in cuts and scrapes, and no small volume of future bruises, he found himself looking up through the clattering amalgam of a familiar little rock golem to the backing silhouette of spear and elfin ears contrasted against a thin sliver of light between the canyon edges far above.

“Elora?!  When did you…?”

More figures rained down over the edges, like a flood of frontliners swarming onto the shattered knight, ready and willing to utterly void its warranty.

“I fucking love all you crazy people.”

***

“Y-You do that? Regularly?” 

"From time to time, yea. Ever since we fought Shadow in that raid, ages ago. Something passed on, I guess.  And I was already numb enough inside that it had little impact.  Speaking of which..."

Rolling over and up into a seated position, Freyd set himself akimbo before summoning two toblers. Each frosted and equipped with a single hunk of ice eerily similar to the familiar algid blue of her home's floor, Mari watched as Freyd summoned an ornately blown glass bottle filled with dark amber ambrosia.  he started to pour.

"Whiskey, if I sniffed it correctly.  The casque I nabbed was full of these.  Care for a dramm?"  Spinning the vitreous vials positions between fingers in a single hand, he offered her the first filled glass while topping up his own.  "And given the error messages I saw in the cellar, I'd say there's a fair chance that quest is completely glitched and fucked.

“I’m not entirely sure if I found peace or not…but…I think I’m better? Maybe? At least - I don’t hate myself.” Mari’s face fell into her hands with a small groan. “Too bad the rest of the world probably still does.”

"That last bit is Mari-just-Mari talking, and she's still supposed to be gone away.  Besides, the Mari-I'm-Mari I'm with certainly has a few friends left to call on.  Even if they're totally compulsive liars and  manipulative jerks who spend way too much time waxing philosophical about shit."  Ice swirled for effect, chiming off the glass in a way that made him wonder if an angel had just lost its wings, or a devil gained its horns. Too heavy for the now.  He really needed to just not think about anything for awhile, if that was even a possibility.

Taking a sip from his own glass, he let the viscous fire water swirl in his mouth, anaesthetizing any overactive taste buds and savouring the flavour/scent as one.  An appreciate moan rumbled through his chest as it went down, warming frosty innards nearly flash frozen by their passage through the void.  Probably not a good choice of travel methods when soaked. He made a mental note for next time.

"Is it actually... Scotch?  Almost tastes like a Speyside, single malt.  My father hated this stuff, which is why he never noticed when I swiped it from the bar."

Propping himself up against a nearby boulder, Freyd tapped Mari's sullen foot with his own, a smirk of concern visibly behind the thawing of his greying beard. 

"You getting mopey again?  I would have thought, by now, you'd have realized that most of the world doesn't give a shit about anything, including you, me, this moment, any moment, or just about fuck all except themselves.  If you don't hate yourself, that's good.  I'm prepared to call that a step in the right direction and raise a drink to the notion.  Or several, as may be required."

“You know…that’s probably one of the smartest things you’ve ever said to me.”

About to object, Freyd’s lips parted to find no rebuke, no quip, nor sarcastic remark.  He had nothing, because she was probably right, and the realization of it had left him flabbergasted.  

Grabby hands yanked back her two rescued wards, Mari cradling them like they were newborns, save the suckling went the other way around.  Actual glee glowed behind her green eyes, made extra verdant with a sudden greed and hunger for their contents.  Freyd saddled the casque up beside him, trying to set it in a way that might survive any more unexpected surprises. So, of course, there were none.

“Oh no… you actually remember that?!" He cringed - the only time she had ever seen him flush with embarrassment, and possibly the only time he ever had. “I swear,t that was the weirdest fever dream ever, save that multiple people I spoke with had shared exactly the same one.”  Groaning, his brows arched upwards, resigned to acceptance that he could ever have been such a complete and utter noob.

“You and Cord were really cool about it, as I recall, especially given how much I must have seemed like a total raving maniac.”  it took every ounce of will not to yank his cowl over his head and hide within, plus it was still soaked and glacially cold.

“Well…whoever you are, Freyd…just Freyd. I think its about time we get that drink.”

“Look,” he added, sounding more human than he’d ever felt, “you spent two years trying to forget and find peace.  I really hope you did, Mari.  I spent that time doing the same thing for myself, just along a different path.”

She had already raced up the stairs, leaving him to collect his own crate and haul it into the cellar.  By the time he made to follow, several bottles of aged single-malt whiskey were already tucked into his inventory, and he could hear hiccups and giggling from above..

“This quest seems hinky. What do you say we go finish this in the High Fields of Crossing?  They should be safe for you. I can jiffy up a shortcut, like before, but it can get a little chilly in the void, so you’ll want to hold on tight.” Eyes darting first to a conveniently sized patch of shade, his hand reaching in like he was opening some sort of celestial doorway, Freyd wasn’t expecting to find Mari already well along when he turned to offer her his other hand.

All he heard was "Yanno..." in a semi-familiar voice before a flurry of frilly drink umbrellas and freckles body checked him through the intangible hole, sending both of them hurtling though the cold, black and oppressively silent nothingness to which the Whisper in Shadow claimed uncanny access.  Her drink chilled almost instantly, ice rimming the edge for the half-second they were nowhere before Aincrad sucked them back into the material world.  Stumbling out from the castings of a lonely oak on the rocky grasslands of floor two, Freyd tumbled and fell flat on his ass, sliding to a stop near a pair of very startled kingfishers, who  promptly squawked and booked it.

Flappy-fluff squawked and took off, probably terrified by Reliq's distraught wails - or at least so he thought.  Skipstones, by comparison, was getting frisky.  There were sparks, and everything.  And then fire.  Oh.  That was probably bad, right? Too distracted by the ill effects of his own antics, at first, his comrades efforts effectively dislodged the mimic's lapsing focus from its own plight by their efforts to actually deal with the problem.  Brittle and raw, flesh sloughing off like shedding snake skin, Borris' efforts at nudging him along were also making him extremely ticklish.  Regenerative in the extreme, a mimic's resiliency also meant added sensitivity along every surface of its rubbery flesh.

"Wooooaaaaaah-hahahaha..."

Squirming like mad as the stones struggled to magnetize to each other, they formed an improvised harness sufficient to corral and drive the frantic miniature abomination to higher ground where Hanami was actually trying to do some good.  Bent nail pinched between blubber and rock, the balled pair snared themselves to a guide wire and were soon airborne, sliding towards the very clay tube Flappy-Fluff happened to be squawking at furiously.  Like the laziest of guided missiles.  Sheer, miraculous fortune snuck their combined form - a strangely effective wrecking ball - straight through the core of the crumbling masonry, spewing them onto a threadbare thatches roof on the far side.  

One more push was all it would take for Hanami to get her wish.

“Who the fuck are you and what did you do wtih Freyd?”

“Freyd,” he laughed, raw essence of precious joy in his voice momentarily pushing back the floor’s oppressive malaise.  “Just Freyd.” Mari could see the same mischievous twinkle in his eyes. She’d been privy to it many times, but something in this new version of the man lost the ominous undertones of his earlier self. This was just joy for its own sake, without all the maniacal metaplots.

Turning her attention to their approaching destination, neither one of them expected the carriage to suddenly faceplant, sending her barreling forward into him.  Hands raised to brace with barely a moment’s allowance, they mostly caught the booze, blue eyes widening as he dearly hoped that whatever other wet and squishy things met his grasp were purely fabric based.  She didn’t kill him instantly, instead shoving the drinks in his lap, eliciting a sudden unexpected gratitude for his armor’s cod piece. 

The… uh… casque had sharp corners.  Or. so he told himself, following her out.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to do that if we both got out of the… WHOA!”

Grabbing the door jamb as deftly bent backwards - too far, as several things popped in his back that probably shouldn’t - it was still a close call.  Her tip twirled frantically mere inches from where his face would have been, and offering a far closer shave than was comfortable.

“Oww.”  

Stepping back, Freyd righted slowly and carefully, un-unfolding himself like a wronged origami piece, while also attempting to survey their surroundings. There was nothing. Of course there wasn't.  Sighing, he helped her secure the wheel's cap with a few heavy gauntlet pounds, nodding with understanding.

“I really really need that drink…” Mari said as she climbed back onto the wagon. “That’s the second time I’ve heard voices on this floor.”

“This place is like that. No one will fault you for it.” Slapping the coach's outer cladding signaled their nonexistent driver to resume course.  Somehow, the cart knew his meaning and ambled on as if nothing were wrong in the world. Pangs of envy rippled through him, instantly suppressed. He'd been numb and cold inside enough for one lifetime.

“And fully agreed. Let’s see what we manage to salvage from the wreck of this god-forsaken floor, and hope it can keep us hammered for another seventy more.”

Jeeves' panicked cry instantly caught Freyd's attention, the man's sardonic quips rarely giving way to such tones of concern.

"What the... did you feed it after midnight, or something!?"

Suddenly flanked by two boss mobs, with a horde of baddies barreling towards them on top of everything else, Freyd forfeit safety in favour of effect.  Blade swung wide, he aimed for maximum reach and effect, slicing deep into both foes and intended to draw them closer to him for control.  It worked.  Mostly.  And also hedged on the fact that both their health bars were deep in the red.

"Looks like they clone themselves with all damage and effects included.  We have a chance!  Just make sure we take them down quickly so they can't do it again, exponentially increasing our problems."

Tugging Ren to his side, his intent being to set them back to back, the whole plan literally went sideways when one of the Spectral Knight hoofed the Whisper into his own shadows and sent him hurtling through the void to God knows where...

***

Freyd ended up meeting @Sakura in Tomoika: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/42257-pt-f21-pp-the-return-of-the-king/?do=findComment&comment=697592

Spotting the spectral knight's attempt to snare their smaller companion, Freyd's hand flashed as he summoned a mangled mechanical contraption and snare the mob's entire arm.  With a vicious snap, the bear trap shut and pinned it in place, shattering half of the limb in the process, while his sword art would wreck the rest of it.  

"We're getting close.  Keep at it."  While the Knights were tough, he'd yet to see them actually do much.  The two fought to date had been effectively stun locked into oblivion.  That suited him just fine.  The wicked way he'd seen them first move, combined with their ability to multiply, left no room for games.  They needed to die, quickly - preferably by yesterday, were it only possible.

Foyle's warning threatened to spoil a battle that was otherwise turning to their favor.

"How long," came his reply, skewering various bits of its vitreous form.

***

"You want to be very careful with how you treat that word, Sam.  'Truth' is a very changeable thing, often revealing more about the person who claims to speak it than whatever it is they claim is true." A bold and Faceless statement from a man committed to a legacy of multiplied existence.  Freyd knew many truths, and forged from them many, many lies - most done with the best intentions, the rest out of necessity.

Watching the scene play out on Sam's mirror, he took it for what it was; its 'truth', as she described it. It was a scene playing out in a mirror. Nothing less, nothing more.  "Just because something makes sense, doesn't make it true.  The opposite also holds.  Details are always missing, dulled or void of context, or - at worst - fabricated for convenience by the producers or our own minds.  Personal desires are the greatest culprit." Returning the mirror to her, Freyd fought and failed to fully conceal his sympathy for her loss.  Maybe, in his heart, he really didn't want to be stoic about this, or believed that she deserved more.

"Truth or not, you seem to believe what this object has shown you.  Why?  What makes it compelling enough to convince you Lium lied?  What makes this more believable than him?" Freyd didn't know who to believe, the defaulted to no one and nothing, at least in this scenario.  "Great men once said: some watery tart throwing a sword at you is no basis for a system of government.  We need to consider the tales we are told from all angles, my friend. Not just the ones we'd most like to be true.  There is also a simpler way to corroborate what you've seen, though I suspect you'd have already checked this.  What does the Monument of Life record in the Town of the Beginnings.  Whose name or what cause appears besides those of your friends?  It's not a foolproof test, but when truth is less than perfect, we do what we can."

Pausing to take another dramm of tea, Freyd weighed his options internally, between gulps of vanilla flavoured bliss.

"I'll tell you what.  If all three names bear Rosaria's name as their cause of death, I will help you track her down and confront her.  If it does not, you will need to convince me before I take any action.  And blindly rushing in will only get you killed, especially against such a potent opponent.  These aren't mobs you're going after, Sam.  Please understand: no creature in Aincrad is more dangerous to players than another of their own kind."

Thread Closure:

Word Counts: 6457

Freyd receives:

23,245 EXP (Word Count [6457/5*18])
3,486 col (0 page [0] + 15% P5 Reward [3486])
1 mon

Acanthus receives:

10,331 EXP (Word Count [6457/5*8])
1,549 col (0 page [0] + 15% P5 Reward [1549])
1 mon

Baldur receives:

12,914 EXP (Word Count [6457/5*10])
1,937 col (0 page [0] + 15% P5 Reward [1937])
1 mon

Jomei receives:

15,496 EXP (Word Count [6457/5*12])
2,324 col (0 page [0] + 15% P5 Reward [2324])
1 mon

Morningstar receives:

10,331 EXP (Word Count [6457/5*8])
1,549 col (0 page [0] + 15% P5 Reward [1549])
1 mon

Lessa receives:

12,914EXP (Word Count [6457/5*10])
1937 col (0 page [0] + Loot [14900] + 15% P5 Reward [1937])
3 Mats
T4 Rare Trinket 244625
1 mon

More sky blasts detonated additional tree tops, tweaking Freyd's nogging to a disturbingly predictable pattern too closely matching explosives in controlled building demolitions.

"Seriously?!"  Grumbles from above sounded suspiciously like chuckling as one escape route after another closed itself to possible passage.  Leaping onto the carriage, Freyd slid his cargo inside with impertinent care before slapping the back of the infernal machine to kickstart its idling engine and send it lurching forward.  Sparing a glance behind them, flaming logs impacted the giant ship and tore a fatal gash in its already punky hull.  Instantly collapsing into a heaping orange-black mess of rotten kindling, it sizzled and hissed while steam plumed overhead to signal its drowning demise.  But they had other cares.

"Upsy-daisy," he called, grasping Mari's outstretched hand and lifting her smaller frame to the open passenger door.

"Hold on," he screamed, barely heard over the gale force winds trying to tear them from their only shelter. "I'm gonna try something stupid to clear us a way out. Just... keep the goodies intact as best you can until I get back!"

Riding a series of heavily worn ruts in the roadway, their carriage felt more like one of those crazy mine cart rides his parents had never let him enjoy at amusement parks, unless he snuck aboard with friends.  Except that, in this case, their current path ended abruptly a few dozen yards ahead in a crackling pyre of collapsed ruins and abruptly electrified landscaping, spontaneous combustion included.  Climbing atop the covered wagon, Freyd found what little footing he could manage and leapt high into the air.  Brackish black lighting struck, like it had been waiting for his blade to be exposed, running down the void-like blade as his own personal sword art channeled itself in the opposite direction.

Forces collided, rebounding against each other with fury to match that of the Abyssal Maw itself, reverberating through Pride's holy seals.  A slash of blackness, as if fabricated from energies abhorrent to the very nature of existence, swept forward like a tsunami, consuming everything in its path.  Nothing survived.  Even the ground itself was scourged and scoured clean, leaving only a giant breach full of nothing where a barricade stood moments earlier.  

Don't fuck with me, sky god.  I beckon the fucking void itself.

Below him, the carriage gained ground, his own pace slowing as he fell back to earth.  Flocks of shadows like murderous crows swept from every nearby corner, plunging into his falling form and wreathing it in a caul of nothingness no light could ever penetrate before winking out of existence completely.

*cough*

"Are you okay?"

Mari would blink, Freyd suddenly leaning forward from the shadows on the seat opposite hers, like he'd somehow been there the whole time.  Smiling in Cheshire-like manner, cakes in soggy soot from head to toe, he made to check both on her and their cargo alike.

***

Travel Back | ID 244610 | LD 8

EVENT SUPPORT ACTION: Collapsed trees and buildings, and the resulting fires, will form obstacles to the Spectral Knights' movements.

Having long since grown accustomed to Nisa's prankish sense of humour, Freyd chose to endure it in silence and focus on facts instead.  Anything more only encouraged her, and they'd done quite enough of that so far.

"Primordial water? Echostone?  Aer?"  None of these terms meant anything to him, though something withing felt like they should be familiar.  Too much haze got in the way, even his ample will and recounting failing to clear its obscurity.  "Is this some sort of ley line or something?"  Unbidden, the thought roused sensations from beyond the reaches of his soul, almost like they belonged to something... someone... other?

Sam's quips about chillaxing registered, but the sheer volume of chaos swirling in Nisa's - Morrighan's - wake kept any tension from bleeding out.  With azure eyes eerily matching the hue and vibrancy of the waters, Freyd listened as she recounted her findings. Pupils shifting back and forth, you could nearly here the hamster wheel within him head spinning up to ridiculous speed, heading for plaid. 

"A silver button... or a socket?"  Why did he ask that?  Orienting himself to Sam's bearings, Freyd spontaneously re-summoned his armor.  Its added wait causing him to skin like a stone.  A silver stone in a six-sided metal socket built into the pool wall, humming in a soft audible key that resonated within the viscous fluid. Reaching out, it felt like he'd become an observer in his own body, some solemn buried spirit within exercising unknown authority over subject matter beyond his comprehension.

You don't press it.  You tune it.  Like this...

"Okay..." Freyd had wondered purely because Sam had so often acted as a follower in the time he had known her. It made him wonder how she'd acted during her relationship with Katoka.  Had she been more assertive?  Kat was easy going, but he knew her temper could carry remarkable stubbornness.  It wasn't something to bring up, certainly not now, but potentially relevant to deciphering whatever was motivating all of this.  He'd also never seen any  key signs of Sam's claim and found himself curious.  

"So Lium and the others dubbed you grand pooh-bah.  Things go south and you feel responsible."  So much had been blasted his way all at once that Freyd felt compelled to disentangle himself from the pasta shotgun blast one noodle at a time.  "But then you get mixed signals in the aftermath of their tragedy and don't quite know why., but want to"  He wasn't sure why either.  The time skips and jarring leaps between events were a little tough to follow.  Repeating it back to her, he hoped she could clarify, confirm and course correct if he'd missed any key connections.

"If I'm following everything correctly, it sounds like you miss some aspects of leadership, but I'm not quite sure which ones.  It's why I asked what I did."

Which bomb, he wondered to himself.  There have been quite a few bombs...

Montjoy stayed uncharacteristically still and silent, leaving Freyd to wonder whether he was struggling to piece it all together too.  Sipping from the multi-coloured mess that was his mug, Freyd mulled and swallowed before continuing.

"It all came to a head when you ran into the Forest of Memories, saw Tuatha in a mirror, did some soul searching that led to certain realizations."  It seemed a stretch, plus a few extra leaps, but he wanted to give Sam the benefit of the doubt and hear her out, but beyond that point things became too hazy to follow.

"Sorry , Sam.  You're asking me not to lie to you, but I don't know what question you're asking me to answer.  Something about the PKers related to Lium? And what are you promising to do with or without me?"

Genuinely concerned, Freyd paused again to let her catch up and correct him, possibly filling in some pieces he might have missed. Speaking deliberately slowly, it was almost like the soft, careful pacing of his voice was meant to slow and calm the situation down to a more manageable speed.

More. A lot more. Every time he turned around, another pop-up window reported new knights spotted, and they were multiplying fast. Bent down on one knee, black armor soaked through to whatever layer was deeper than bone, Freyd was half catching his breathe, half digesting what could become a rout. Frontliners had rallied to the aid of this last patrol in responding to the threat's original emergence, and fortunately defeated it swiftly. Little time could be spared in the aftermath, as he'd risked the rest of O&I's available agents, committing them to stalling action likely beyond their means. Fewer, frailer, they'd fought with sheer audacity and somehow held just long enough for him to reach them. A narrow triumph. Too narrow. And now reports of losses were mounting as frontliner quality struggled against the surging quantity of enemies.  

Swiping away the multitude of soft blue holograms, each painting mostly depression, only replaced them with a view of the pervasive gloom that was the twenty-ninth floor.  Lightning crackled overhead as black thunderheads collided in an atmospheric bumper car ride of celestial destruction.  Static from their temperamental bouts made his spine tingle tenuously at the wisdom of clinging to the curved metal lightning rod in his hand, its tip resting inches in the ground to bear a growing burden. Beyond the ridge's edge, below, another scene of devastation where sword arts of mass destruction had laid waste to the latest horde of eldritch horrors spawn by the layer's miasmic maleficence.  Decimated, but not defeated, the sinister metal-glass infection has spread between the few surviving mobs, from which spawned another spectral monstrosity within spitting distance of Ilridge's outskirts.

"We're losing ground, and still have no idea where these things are coming from, or why."  Calm and steady, even as he stared down at the latest abomination skulking in the narrow gorge below, Freyd felt tension building beneath every bit of correspondence.  "If one of these things breaches our beachhead, they will become impossible to contain." 

Right.  Because we're so effectively containing them already.

Panicked shrieks rang out across the chasm as a group of wounded players reached the far end of the passage. They'd likely heard it had been cleared and were looking for a safe route back to town. Only three of them, he noted.  Veterans and well-equipped by his accounting of their gear.  These weren't tourists, but capable fighters who'd met their match, or more. Anguished faces bore fresh signs of tragic and unbearable loss.  Each one of their avatar bodies bled and decayed visibly, still under ailments their polished tormenters were known to inflict. Another depleted party. Another grim loss in a growing number of unsustainable defeats. Bearded whiskers bristled with added grey as ghostly memories of a raid boss' claws ripped through his flesh and bones.  Azure eyes wincing, Freyd spared only seconds to scrawl and send a hasty message:

That trio has no time.

Their nerve was shattered, sanity buckling under the floor's relentless and brooding assaults.

"Someone will answer."  

Maybe.

Ripping Veritas from the mucky, ichor-sludge that passed for soil, the black blade's schlorping made an unconvincing battle cry as Freyd dove recklessly over the edge and hurtled towards the Knight below.

***

Note: CS (Shades of the Gemini) and CSA (Beckon the Void) are in use.  If any other player objects to these, please state in first post and it will be considered inactive.

Freyd consumes:

Elixir of Wrath (Potion) | Tierless Perfect | Damage 3 | 196545a
[Draught of Safeguard] - T4 Perfect Potion | Mitigation 3 | 218110

Freyd consumes and shares with party:

Gungir’s Shard (Untradeable/Unique/Reusable Consumable): Smokin' Hot Honey Bun Tray | ACC 2 | EVA 2 | Feast (6/6) + ACC filled

Freyd gives to Elora:

Elixir of Wrath (Potion) | Tierless Perfect | Damage 3 | 196575c

Freyd | HP: 1320/1320 | EN: 164/164 | DMG: 24 | MIT: 212 | ACC: 8 (incl AA)  | TAUNT | F-SPIRIT | EVA: 4 | BH:73 | VAMP-D: 73 | VAMP-O: 145 | PARA-V | LD:5

“WHOA!”

Eyes widened at the sudden jostle and poke between his legs, something firm manifesting that hadn’t been there an instant before. Two uncertain seconds passed standing on his tippy toes until realization came that Mari now held a spear firmly erect in hand and pointed at something that took a moment and reboot of his heartbeat to catch.

“Hey, watch where you- WHAT THE…?!”

Black blade instantly upright in a low guard, the appearance of his grip and positioning might have been more awkward if the dead fish custodian weren’t quite so in their faces about a few muddy footprints.

“Uhm..You’re…seeing this too?”

“Seeing it?  I’m also smelling it.  Where’d he come from?!  And can we send him back?”  A grimace of palpitating lips failed to cleanse the foulness of its odour - one you could taste, like that particular trait reserved for vomit or necrosis.

Mari reeled, a bit, walking back and bumping into his breast plate, forcing him to loose turn his grip on his own blade or be accused of getting frisky.  One freed hand pressed against the small of her back, the schlorping cold wetness of her cloak bleeding through the last of her dry clothes.  The other waved the weapon wide, nary preventing misfortune.

“You - can’t blame me for deflecting this time, right?” 

Snorting nearly made him barf, the whiff of rotting fish dude invading his nostrils with pungent disdain for his jocularity.  Freyd momentarily turned green beneath his whiskers, something in the pit of his stomach threatening mutiny if they remained.

“Forget this..” he horked out, grabbing a nearby intact casque as booty and tugging his partner's hip to bee-line for the exit while fish dude gurgle-blorbed at the top of his perforated lungs over the mess made by their hasty retreat.

Swiftly returned to the deck, they found that blackened skies turned sickly green as clouds spiraled into an ever-tightening maelstrom overhead. Rumbling like the crushing of mountainsides beneath sky tantrums shook the ground and whipped the inky waves into roiling rage threatening to pull the mysterious ghost ship away from shore, or simply tear it apart.

“There!  The carriage... we can-”

***CRASH***

A colossal oak from atop the nearby ridge exploded in a brilliant flash of purple-green light, each remaining half toppling with a complete lack of grace plus ill-chosen timing.  Both parts were heading for their ride at increasing speed, spraying lethal splintered shrapnel everywhere as the remains of petrified limbs shattered and the trunks themselves burst into flame.

“... find a new exit!  Go, go, Go, GO!!!  Move it, Lady Koi Fish, or I'll pick you up and carry you myself!”

***

Action: helped to resolve Mari's roll for Unloading the Cargo (handled as a group)

“Well… that was… a lot.”

Foremost in Freyd’s mind had been the sheer uncanny valleyness of drinking coffee out of a glass.  A mug, thermos, or skull, no problem.  But glass?  Eww. No. Essence of wrongness. Coffee was meant to be tasted, not seen.  Clandestinely searching cupboards for less anathema drinkware while Sam laid out her autobiography, he finally found a kitty-shaped mug with big blue eyes staring accusingly at him for all his failings in life.  

Nope. Too soon.

Nudging it silently sideways, he chose another that more closely resembled a deranged child's Father’s day gift. Its exterior, excessively glazed as if attempting to eternally contain the rampant use of crayon and acrylic, utterly failed to conceal what looked like a re-enactment of rainbow-coloured slime king murder set to song and dance, complete with confetti cannon and fireworks.  

Shiina.  Has to be.

Stirring in vanilla, imported directly from the farthest reaches of his multi-dimensional inventory, not a word or gesture was made to risk interrupting his dark-haired agent’s recounting of wherever all of this was going.  Even Freyd’s mind, accustomed to weaving plans within plan within plans, was having a little trouble following the plot, though he could never be so careless as to let that struggle show.  Sam was bearing soul, here, and he didn’t want to tread on any extra sensitive bits - an uncharacteristically considerate reaction from him, in itself.

“So… I’m certainly glad you’re doing better.”  Genuinely true.  The last time he’d seen her she was threatening murder with jazz hands while running off half-dressed and crazy-eyed into the Forest of Memories. By comparison, her current state was a definite improvement.

“And I hadn’t realized that any of that had happened to you prior to entering Aincrad. Lium’s sharing was… limited, to say the least.  To be fair, trust would be a challenge after what he endured, so I can’t fully fault him.  But, before we deal with all the rest of what you said, and… this…” Freyd casually waved his borrowed spoon around in circles ensnaring the rest of the elaborately synergized intel strewn about the room. “I feel a need to ask, purely out of curiosity, what was it that made you their leader?”

What a weird moment to pick up their earlier conversation, though heartwarming in a completely unexpected way that she would circle back to it.  Old Mari would have carved the topic to pieces using only sheer with, burned it, buried it, then salted the earth to make sure nothing ever grew there again.  But not this Mari. It was eerily refreshing.

Prison…  Two years….

“Wait… whut?”  

As much as he wanted to absorb every detail, they were still in a fairly precarious position, and far too exposed for Freyd’s liking.  Reaching back and snaring the edge of her water-logged cloak with his hand, a sharp tug signaled for her to follow as she spoke, and hopefully also remind her to keep her voice down.  Still wanting answers, he probed super-punky deck boards with his heavy boots as they made their way towards the stairs leading below.

Underground… high security… Raidou?!

“Raidou?  Visiting?  What kind of pri…oh. Oh, I get it. That's clever.”

While not privy to all the details of their conversations, he’d once spotted the growing pile of broken glasses in his friend’s workshop and detected a certain brand of calamity.  Mari exuded that brand, living it as readily as most people would breathe.  Their troubled past told  tales and revealed the toll they inflicted, all concealed behind venomous wit and sassy quips wrapped in tangerine and peppered with freckles.  Mari, just Mari, and always tired…

“He took you to a dungeon to keep you safe.  Good call.  People often forget how the same things that make them hard to leave can also make them hard equally hard to find and enter.  They’re cut off from teleports, messaging… so many things.  Smart.”

A glow flickered from around the open stair, Freyd pausing a moment to let his night vision adapt.  One lantern wasn’t going to do much to light a ship this big, and shadows here felt strange, even to him.  They clung around every corner like malignant spirits, waiting to pounce upon the decrepit remains of a once-hale and hearty host.  Sickly.  Rotten.  Dying...

“In a way…it was nice. I was breaking Freyd. I had given so very much of myself away to everyone. Every single person demanded more and more of me, I kept tearing away pieces till there was nothing left.  I was at that precipice. I don’t think I’d have survived if I hadn’t been thrown into that cell.”

Pausing as he reached the bottom step, his cowl turned to starboard just enough for her to see his silhouette from whiskered nose down. Lips pressed, there was no harshness in him, despite the creaking tensions rumbling through the galleon’s weathered wood and frames.  Lighting flashed outside, turning the world a blueish white and black that left a glare and haze upon their sight.

“I know you were. It was horrible to watch and be unable to prevent it.  You could never stop yourself, even when some of us tried to reach out.  The maelstrom was too deep; its current too strong.  You were drowning in too much Mari.  I guess the question is: were you thrown, or did you throw yourself?”

Watching Flappy-fluffy-thing and Pile'o'skipstones with a pair of separately placed purple-irised yellow eyes, the rest of Reliq's attention was on the flagstone upon which he'd been pancaked.  Twice.  And, in the process, he'd somehow managed to wedge one of his longest and most wriggly tongues in a nasty-tasting groove.  Normally, he'd just slice it off and grow another, but Mr.Wiggles had been with him a very, very long time.  At least three buckets, two chests and seven helmets ago!  You might say they'd even grown attached.  Blowing hard into the tip of another appendage, trying in vain to re-inflate himself, it might have worked better if he'd kept the rest of his gibbering mouths shut.  No dice.  Silence was really not his thing, and the others were having fun with the big snotty man without him!

Spotting their machinations from below, all his gazes eventually fell upon teetering stack of poorly sealed and dusty barrels.  Bird-loogey man had already flown the coop, clambering over the top of the wall in search of more tasty chews to sneeze on.  Eww. Their boogers looked gross.  Yanking as hard as he could, Reliq momentarily resembled some sort of eldritch elastic dog with too many limbs, all of them greases and slipping ineffectively again the ground.  Until the flagstone dipped, suddenly releasing Mr.Wiggles and snapping him overhead.  Whiplash spun the tiny manic mimic around, hurtling him in a tumble towards the barrels.

Wound and launched like a ball of rubber bands, he crashed into the keystone bin, spilling and scattering the whole lot.  Fine white granules sprayed in all directions, like a pressurize sand blaster scouring every inch of the battlefield. The Knight turned towards,  blaring its fog horn voice in anguish as the simple substance seared its unnatural existence.  

Salt.

'Aaaaaaaiaiiiiiaiiaiaiaiaiaia!!!!!"

A parched - no, desiccated purple string bean came screaming from the cargo's wreckage, looking like pasta uncooked and every eye bloodshot in stinging agony no amount of tears could possibly clear.  Scampering in abject desperation, Reliq climbed his allies' improvised chain to reach them and the steadily drizzling raindrops a mimic's equivalent to poison ivy.  Unfortunately, if the salt got wet, their accidental trap would also falter.

***

SUPPORT ACTION: Temporarily contain a spectral knight

“I saw it. But -I don't know who told you but- it is not my story to tell.  Sorry”

Temptation to pry instantly dismissed, the evidence poorly concealed across the wincing lashes and droplets winked away at the edges of her eyes. The rain should stay outside.  Freyd had already done too much to her to push a sore spot further.  Maybe someday, if she was ever ready.

“Prison?”

Who would actually have the guts or the gaul to dare?  Mari was no slouch, even in a self-proclaimed state of reclamation.  Few other than NIGHT or Raidou could match her skill.  Maybe Macradon and Baldur, but the list was far from long.

“How?  Who?!  Walk backwards for a second.  That one needs an explanation.”  In typical fashion, she’d deflect to talking about Elora instead, not unexpectedly.  Too naive in love to know where they might once have stood with each other on the subject, he knew enough to glean the void in Mari’s heart just by tone of voice.  Freyd knew more about such absences than most realized, having explored and confronted his own over the plumbing of many internal and abyssal depths.  Stare into the void long enough, and eventually you find it staring back.  He’d gone a league or two beyond that point, and paid prices.

“So she’s why you’re…”

“Barely, passably human?”  A derisive snort, aimed solely at himself. Still self-critical and full of existential scorn, on that point, he couldn’t fault her comment in the slightest.  

“Yeah.  Progress, right?” Tone too neutral, she'd find one lacquered metal hand clasped in the other, the finger plates of his armor fidgeting to the play of muscles meaning to relieve an unknown tension. Their ride ended abruptly, lurching them both forward, his companion practically tripping over herself to get out the door as if to change the subject.  It took a minute longer for him to squeeze himself out the tiny door.

“Whoa.  Cart cut things a little close, don’t you think?”  Having missed Mari’s dimensional jump scare, Freyd had already snared one of the thick mooring lines and was clambering aboard. Seconds later, the proverbial plank slid over the side at a broken gap in gunnels, offering her an easier way up.  

“I can see light below deck.” Ushered quietly, he already knew their presence would be known from his own heavy footfalls and the clanging of his climb. Guarding their vanguard, he waited sword in hand while maintaining watchful guard on a ship already far too dead for his liking.

Something in the water.  The spot marked by sonar waves delivered by the shrilling cry of pursed lips as an unusual source of revelation.  Their guide's added taunts were overlooked as Whisper instincts kicked in.  Another puzzle to solve.  Anything to get away from the trajectory of their earlier conversation seemed a blessing.  Nisa's shamelessness would win out over all, he was certain.

"Huh... would you look at that." Freyd thought it wise to avoid disturbing the water any more than necessary. The ladies had already done their share with their playfighting, yet Nisa somehow still sensed whatever might lurk within. Mostly, he felt like she was baiting him, seeing if he'd bite and play along, but exploring the white haired witch's view of the world often proved enticing beyond practical reason.  It was so against his nature, and yet Freyd found himself wading in as slowly as he could manage.  Even through Sam's teasing and re-tuning of her damaged musical treasure, he dismissed his armor in favor of a dark blue haori and charcoal pants soon soaked through.  At least it made fewer waves.

"Who stole what?  The bird people?  From who?" Keen eyes scouring the surface and mirror world below, the constant ripples hindered as much as they helped.  Knowing where to go was one thing, but also made it impossible to see beneath the miniscule waves.  And then the bottom gave out on everything, dunking him a good twenty feet below.  Thank goodness he'd actually doffed the armor.

Emerging like the proverbial wet cat, Freyd's blazing blue eyes glared daggers as the bassist while seriously considering consigning her newly repaired guitar to the void.

"You called me, Sam.  Seems like poor cricket to knock an arrow towards my face."  Stepping out of the shadows, the Whisper kept his hands at his sides, in plain sight.  She was wise to be careful.  Appearances could too easily be altered in this world, and one poor choice could quickly cascade into calamity.

"Freyd.  You know.  Your friendly neighbourhood PK exterminator?"  Leap taken, but nobody ever asked about that damnable book unless the subject of player killers was involved.  "What's all this about?  Your message made it sound urgent." Swiping a gauntlet over the darkness in his wake, whatever doorway lay there closed as silently as it had opened.  Seeing the room in its current state did little to assuage his concerns.  The rest of O&I had picked up the slack in the aftermath of her breakup with Katoka, willingly sharing the added burden while she took time for herself.  No grudges.  Everyone understood, at least to the extent that they could understand her circumstances.  Sam had always been a very private person.

Realizing that the timing of her request had put him on edge, likely without cause, Freyd forced himself to relax and let the edge in his voice fade. "Sam.  You've been AFK for a bit.  Why don't we start with where you're at and how you're doing.  The last time I saw you, with Lium, you ran off into the woods raving like a... well, you know what you sounded like.  He's been worried.  I have been too.  Fill me in, please."