Freyd

"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

A beam of something crackled through the air directly over Katoka's snow-filled hair, striking the ice behemoth directly in the chest. A crisp scent of ozone filled the air. It hurt to gaze upon the darkness, as if witnessing its presence, or absence, was abhorrent to a living soul. Avalanche lurched, then stumbled back with a heavy footfall, trying to brace itself against the impact of the nothing that had pierced its heart. Freyd stood upon its chest, having appeared out of nowhere, gazing hard into the empty, shadowed sockets that doubled as its eyes. In his hands, the dark shaft of Sa

“You speak to us of Fate, and denying its designs?" Freyd's words simmered with barely controlled anger, barked out between clenched teeth in outrage at the system's flagrant attempt at a feint. "But you're the agent of that fate, are you not? You're not a man, Gabrandr! You've no soul, or body laying in some unknown, wasting state beyond the confines of this prison world. You're a figment conjured to challenge and delay, spinning a tragic tale so that we feel bad. Your deeds contradict your words, and what you spout as noble intentions falters in the face of ignoble action. Raidou

A hollow smirk adorned the Whisper's face, partially concealed beneath his familiar cowl. Baldur scored points for good sportsmanship, though he and Lessa seemed to have no shortage of unexplained history together. The way they danced around each other reminded him of the coy manner of a certain aunt and uncle he'd once had, save the pledge and finger bindings. Maybe the two were courting, after a fashion. It really wasn't something he would normally bother with, but it paid to know the nature of the relationships between those with whom you travelled. Baggage had a way of flying out of l

"To be perfectly honest," Freyd chimed in after swallowing his latest golden ball of gummy mouth balm, "I feel like a bit of a fraud pretending to spout some semblance of profound wisdom about these things." Not the words one might expect to hear from the ominously clad warrior, but Freyd had a penchant for delving into the unexpected. Pursing lips and a brief exhalation made it hard for his companions to read whether the pause signaled some difficulty in the admission or other underlying intent. The truth was, typically, somewhere in between. "This is only my second raid," he ad

Racing up behind his companion, Katoka felt a further spray of snow as Freyd planted his staff in packed snow at her side, using it to vault himself high into the air an on a solid trajectory for the ice golem's face. Its icy features cracked as it furrowed its brow, the snapping sounds echoing off the frozen cliff walls and reverberating back towards them, threatening to cause a real version of the monster's namesake. Giant clawed hands reached up and smashed together with a resounding clatter, catching the darkly clad figure between them, seeking to squish him like some sort of bug. It ev

"Ah, so that's it. Dude's got his zealot and martyr fuses swapped." Freyd sucked a breath through his teeth, shaking his head at the tragic trope in full display before them. "There's no helping him, then. Our goal lays on the far side of his doom." A lunging feint converted at the last minute to a tumble as the dark clad figure skittered beneath the giant warrior's shield and battery of gossamer armaments floating with excess auras of lethality over his head. They were a tanking problem. His personal challenge was to find spots of sufficient squishiness to deliver the same quality o

Opportunities to decipher the truth behind Galtea's defeat by Ladonian hands had been few and far between, but Freyd had scrounged a few glimpses - enough to form a primitive picture of shattered national and personal pride. Given what was happening before them and the quad of Death Star lasers this dude had pointed at the ceiling, he wasn't feeling particularly sympathetic. A shared glance with the vanguard was enough to know that their flank was solid even as the other took the brunt of the king's assault. They needed to draw his ire back this way and give the other group the time require

ph *** Freyd | HP: 1160/1160 | EN: 150/150 | DMG: 24 | MIT: 78 | EVA: 2 | ACC: 4 | BH: 63 | LD: 5 | AA | BLGT: 32 | P.V.O | REC: 8 | STK: 40 Full Stats:

"Barely anyone came. I had to find the only person that wanted to talk about it, and it wasn't even for the thing they stated they wanted to talk about. I swear, I feel like I'm never going to live down that day." The flicker of firelight dancing across his features gave Freyd a veneer of warmth that often seemed lacking. For this moment, at least, he wasn't the cold, distant, ceaselessly logical machine that churned through content like a fat kid through their collected Halloween treats. "Then you need to stop trying to live it down." Still blunt, apparently. "Seriously, if p

"The blonde boy's name is... was Tuatha Dé Danann Escheté. He was Simmoné's real life brother." The girl deserved to know the truth, no matter how utterly bizarre. Something akin to sympathy crossed the Whisper's carefully guarded face. "I can't explain it. Whatever this strange series of events represents, or how Nisahime is bound up in all of it is still too convoluted to make clear. But you have basically been haunted by the twisted guilt and sorrow of her loss, which was also the very same spirit that somehow saved Freya's life here in SAO." Lifting his hands, palms open, Freyd

EXP Award: 3534 words / 30 = 117*5= 589*Tier x T8 = 4712 EXP +30% = 6125 EXP to @Hirru