Freyd

"If this gets any more complicated," Freyd grumbled, "we're gonna need flowcharts or something." His ire was roused on Sam's impulsiveness, not her zeal. Teaching agents to temper one while fostering the other might bring him to drink, and that didn't even account for the @Blueberryfactor. "Cardinal, through the NerveGear, could have gathered an unprecedented quantity of metrics on its incoming player base. And who knows what other lengths Kayaba might have gone to while laying the groundwork for his trap? Hacking government records and private databases is small potatoes when you'r

Freyd's face remained unchanged, despite the fact that the room's other occupants seemed to have donned their cranky pants this morning. They may have had legitimate cause. Whoever had kidnapped the kids from this place had also put theirs on inside out, because no one should be stupid enough to try pulling a stunt like this. Making an enemy of Oscar was tantamount to mistakenly signing your own death certificate while thinking it was an organ donor card. It wouldn't end well. "I keep forgetting that everyone around here already knows everyone," Freyd added, speaking to no one as his e

A flutter of wind wrought flickering flames, causing shadows to dance upon the nooks and crannies of the space. Something creaked while the ambiance calmed and re-settled into stilled perfection of place at peace with itself, undisturbed by the bumping of NIGHTly things. Twin azure eyes opened and closed at the light's edge, purring a silent frustration at the chill outdoors and venting by her gaze frustration that she would soon be dragged there again. Fingers, spiderlike in length with a cladding of supple black hide, grasped the package prepared and paid for. An instant later, it was go

Rank 5 Appraiser (Base: BD 10, CD 8+ for unique, 10 identifications per day) +1 to CD from Hermes’ Scale +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) Consuming: Crafting Respite: none Witch's Brew: none Identifications: 1x T1 Perfect Items (@640 col) = 640 col 1x T1 Rare Items (@320 col) = 320 col 1 x T1 Perfect Consumable (@320 col) = 320 col 1 x T1 Rare Consumable (@160 col) = 160 col Total Cost: 1440 col Junking: 1x T1 Perfect

"Billy's not all bad," Freyd replied unexpectedly. Many players reacted to his own dark demeanor in much the same way as Bismuth was to the NPC. "He comes across as far more sinister than he really is. In truth, he just pushes us to realize the value and potential of many things we all tend to take for granted, including things beyond the material. These range from the benefits of having friends and allies, the value of loyalty, the true measure of sacrifice and a gift given with no strings attached. Billy just provides us with contrast." Freyd had never quite laid out that realizati

Freyd bid them all farewell and good luck. It wasn't exactly like they'd be going far. But the rest of the teams were stirring and static tension was building in the air around them as the dawning of the raid was imminent. It was hard to describe and impossible to ignore, like a nervous tick growing in intensity behind your eyes, eager to see what would be revealed once the curtain lifted. It could be magnificent, nightmarish, or even both. They were about to find out. "Interesting, isn't it Montjoy, how all of us can be so different from one another." Freyd's shadow curled slo

Freyd entered the familiar store with a large bundle of carefully wrapped items, each carefully balanced against the rest in his arms. Some were quite long and took an extra bit of effort to bring in without accidentally knocking any of his colleague's precious tools or works in progress from their respective places. He needed the man's help in crafting a pair of special gifts, and could trust no others with their making. *Cough* "Erm... Griswold. I need your help with a pair of special projects. It's taken quite a bit of effort to gather the right materials, but I think you'll a

Something flashed darkly in the shadowed rafters over the main hall where Oscar stood dismissing the other new arrival. No one spotted holes in the darkness, which made a properly stylized custom order teleportation crystal so ideal for such uses. Fortunately, he'd spent years hiding in every back alley, paranoid that Cardinal and its agents were hunting him at every turn. It didn't take long to figure out which orphanage Oscar's message meant. Scolding himself for the foolishness of past fears, the Whisper descended from shadows landing silently on booted feet to survey the state of their

A single arched eyebrow lifted in response to Bismuth's comments, even as Freyd and Billy exchanged a silent, surprised look with each other. The Whisper broke it off first, shrugging his shoulders and tossing his empty mug to the tiny devil-thing, who make to whip it back at him only to have the cup disintegrate into its component pixels in his hand. "See you around, Billy. Good luck with the whatever it is you're scheming!" A casual handwave, made without looking back, ended their bizarre interaction with the NPC. Freyd's long, purposeful strides soon closed the distance and had him

"You said you wanted to learn to be an appraiser," Freyd replied candidly. Taking a sip of his drink, Freyd sat with legs splayed, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees. It was an odd look, him holding the glaring arctic white cup against a background of so much darkness. Even more strangely, his shadow stood by his side, seeming to lean against the edge of a nearby post and yet poised in a manner completely different than its caster. Blue eyes watched from beneath his cowl as Bismuth worked, sketching his own internal assessment of the man, and seeking to gauge his mer

It wasn't the reaction he'd expected. If anything, it was better. Freyd was quite impressed by Bismuth's genuine curiosity, but even more so by his oblivious disregard for the fearsome miniature devil thing to which he'd just been introduced. "Hehehe. Hold still, Billy. I think you're about to become famous. Give the guy some credit. He knows the value of information." The diminutive demon mob opened his mount as if about to protest, but halted himself before any sound emerged. Black fingernails pinched his own chin between them as he suddenly pondered his former student's poin

"This is Billy," Freyd replied with a wide grin on his face, "the original merchant profession quest trainer, and the NPC who taught me the art. He's also the best scoundrel and devilishly good liar in the game, who will scam and bleed you dry if given half a chance." "Hey that's not-" "He's also the best damned source of secret code cheats in the game and knows every developer's back door, which he shamelessly uses to his own advantage every chance he gets." "Slander! Gross exaggeration! Maligning my character! How dare yo-" The kid's features were changing, the angrier an

Freyd smiled a knowing, playful sort of smile, glancing over at Bismuth's cast shade and luring his companion by his gaze to do the same. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but by the time they turned to look back at each other Freyd's shadow had inexplicably returned. "Montjoy's the mischievous sort," he added without further explanation, as if something should have been self-evident. Long, lanky strides kept up their pace even as Bismuth complained jovially about it. "Sorry. Occupational hazard. Sitting still isn't really for me. Too many things to be done, people to stab, infor

A single slender eyebrow arched as the man spoke. No one had ever really flirted with him in this manner, except those that did it with everyone. Perhaps that was simply the case here? "Hrm. The trinkets should be simple enough." Looking down at the assortment of odd items on the table between them, Freyd seemed to be searching for something specific before finally settling on what looked like some sort of metal spear shaft or pipe section. "This should do the trick." Grabbing the rod by one end, he gently pressed it to a mass of goods tangled in various strands of hefty rop

A flicker of shadow darted in the back of the shop, sending several high piles of what looked like little more than junk clattering as it spilled. "Hey! Na running aff 'n' shirking yer business-ly duties! FREYD!" Stocky Quip went charging into the background, nabbing a cast iron frying pan like some sort of improvised battle axe as she ran. The shop itself was an absolute mess, consisting of little more than assorted piles of indeterminate items. It dawned on Bismuth that his struggle to describe them in any more meaningful way was likely deliberate. These were all unidentified item

A small, slinky thing made of inky black darkness hopped casually up on the counter, preening as it gingerly pranced along its surface and surveyed the local assortment of goods with disinterested azure eyes. Everything else about Persi was an amorphous mystery, but those eyes were akin to displaying her soul rather than just serving as windows. Maybe shadows have no ability to contain souls? It would explain a great many things if that were so. Perhaps they could only serve as vessels or reflections to the souls of others? Now, wouldn't that be interesting? A gentle clink of fine me

Rank 5 Appraiser (Base: BD 10, CD 8+ for unique, 10 identifications per day) +1 to CD from Hermes’ Scale +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) Consuming: Crafting Respite: None Witch's Brew: None Identifications: 6 x T1 Perfect Items (@640 col) = 3840 col +12000 col for re-rolls. (4 * 3000 for 2 rerolls apiece) +1000 col for re-rolls. (1 * 1000 for 1 reroll apiece) Total Cost: 16840 col Junking: X x T1 Perfect Item (@400) = X

"Noble ideals," Freyd whispered in response to Baldur's eloquent answers, a hint of something concealed behind well-practiced masks. "Such things are not a luxury a janitor can allow himself. My inglorious task is to complete the dirty jobs and clean up the messes that follow, including the blemishes and stains left in the wake of the pursuit of honour." No mocking jibes or condescension carried behind his words. He meant what he said, and how he said it, bound with silent envy and admiration that he denied himself. Perhaps he didn't feel worthy. Perhaps the crisp, cold scalpel of machine

Watching tempers flare and weapons bristle, Freyd felt the slow sizzle of oblivion gnawing on his hands. The arguments were sound. The logic was clear. The peril was real and ominously looming. If Gabrandr’s threat of Razwell’s looming scather activation was true then they really might not have time left to argue over this. Looking into the faces of his gathered peers, he saw passions roiled to their boiling points. Baldur, who had so righteously proclaimed that he fought to save lives simultaneously scolded those who raised their blades in defence, yet claimed the right to suffer

“You obviously wanted to die here, but now that you've given us that choice instead of your suicidal attempt at vengeance, it's going to be some time later." Had Gabrandr really been the one to grant us that choice, or was it his master, stalling to save its piece on the board and buy time, or perhaps just to draw things out as long as possible? Freyd listened while Hirru made his case, but found it clung to optimism over evidence. “You’re not wrong, in that these scathers need to be eliminated, completely. But, this one’s solution was to make his own and then turn it on his enemie

Katoka's enduring spirit had always been her most admirable trait. He always knew she'd be faster than him in a ground race. The woman's raw speed was akin to a flash of lightning when she set her mind to it, and refreshment seemed to be high on her list of motivators. "Okay, okay. I'm coming!" Turning his gaze up towards the dull winter sun, Freyd went limp and allowed himself to fall softly into the snow field on his opposite side. But, instead of making snow angels, he simply fell through when he landed on his own shadow, swallowed into nothing. A hand tussled Katoka's h