Freyd

Kneeling down at Delilah's side, Freyd had watched the last of her health bar vanish, a telltale sign of impending and inevitable end.  

"You're okay now," he consoled, more gently and quietly, taking her hand in his even as her skin began to flake away and turn to dust.  "It's gone, and can't hurt you anymore." 

Delilah cried, her body convulsing in the motions but voice already gone, tears streaming down the broken orange mesh of her avatar, revealed along the near side of her face. 

"I'll find your mom, Delilah.  We'll stop the thing that did this to both of you, I prom..."  She placed a solitary finger on his lips to halt his words, terror wide in her eyes.  Her head shook rapidly to the negative, though he couldn't be entirely sure why.  Did she not want him to do so?  Was it a warning about how powerful this thing actually was?  Or was her parent truly  the greater evil that she didn't want spared?

Freyd couldn't help wonder which came first: the monster spreading across floor 28 or the one that might have been its magistrate.  The last of Delilah crumbled to dust and spilled into the wind still shrieking its way through the gossamer blanket smothering the woods.  Freyd flinched, unexpectedly.  These things didn't affect him.  Not normally.  But today?  Perhaps.

"Just a mob," he claimed, swallowing hard while assertively attempting to dismiss the wave of emotion sweeping through him like those very same winds, knowing that he didn't believe his own words.

***

EN recovery (2/2)

Red thread monster clashed against Whisper in Shadow, both roiling, dancing, stabbing and thrashed violently, each seeking to gain the upper hand.  Delilah kept trying to engulf her target with her weavings, only to have them unravel in the face of a swift parry or dodge.  Freyd was just too many places at once, too quick for her to corner. Beyond that, his own strikes now turned her strength against her.  Every blow drained a little more colour from her sinewy armor, restoring Freyd's health in the process.  All of the cuts and contusions inflicted upon him were slowly fading as his health bar rose in precisely the opposite manner to the thread's intentions.

"I've learned a few valuable lessons along the way," he added speaking to whatever overlord controlled the child and held the puppet strings.  "Do I call you magistrate?  Aldenbrook?  Scarlet Yellow-Yarn-Belly?  That last one has a certain ring to it."

"We are the weave and the woven.  We infiltrate.  We spread.  We control.  All of this existence will be ours.  All of you, will be us!"

Dipping low, then leaping high, Freyd crashed back down with a blow the ruptured the last of the thread's grasp upon its victim.  Glass-like fractals burst outward, exploding like shrapnel made of light and leaving only the broken form of a child laying, weeping on the ground in her night clothes.  Eyes still steaming with rage, Freyd's pulse thundered in his ears, dimmed only gradually as he stared down at the defeated pawn laying at his feet.  A dozen bits of red filament, lamprey-like inch worms slithering away, scattered in all directions.

"So that's what you look like."  A snap of his fingers had Persi ripping the stragglers to shreds.  None would survive.

***

EN recovery (1/2)

Freyd recovers 60 hp.  Now at 1139/1311

Freyd consumes Lich Loogeys (Salve) | HP Recovery 3 | 169214 (+196 hp).  HP now at 1311/1311

"I'm sorry, kid," Freyd started, climbing back to his feet after having spilled out of Persi's digestive tract in reverse.  He never wanted to do that again.  "I can't pull this same trick on you.  And that only leaves on option.  This thing," he added, pointing at the lattice of interwoven filaments overhead.  "It needs to die. And I am very much afraid that doing so might kill everything... and everyone... who is still connected to it."

Pangs of something unfamiliar gripped Freyd's chest as he spoke.  Though he never realized it himself, the Whisper had a serious soft spot for children, and he didn't know why.  Maybe he saw in them the potential to live as he was denied the opportunity to do himself.  Maybe it was their resilience and wonder, still persistent in advance of being swallowed by the cruel tides of life and reality.  A yearning to protect that innocence had always been nestled deep inside him, emerging in rare moments like these.

"You will join the fabric," the child screeched, its voice far too deep and sinister for such a small frame, even embellished as it was by the grafted filaments.  "You will hear our song and OBEY."

Freyd just shook his head.  

"You're going to find that I am really, REALLY stubborn, though I'm far from the only one.  We don't want your stupid 'fabric' if it's to be forced upon us.  You can't just take people into yourself.  That's called... nevermind.  Too creepy.  Now, release the child, or I will take her back by force."

"You can try, fool, and fail."

Freyd's hands shifted, the wraps surrounding them replacing the sealed darkness of Samael's Pride with worn and beaten handwraps stained red with blood and brutal necessity then tempered by the scent of blossoms and the pure silence and clarity of the frozen morn.  They look to have once been part of a larger garment since adapted to another's use and legacy.  Hope's Covenant - Resolve - the same wraps he'd worn in the raid against Wushen, and crafted from a tattered shred of the Wanderer's red coat.  There could be no more apt implement with better potential to break this awful curse

***

Loot Sentinel 4: ID #218947 | LD: 15+14=29 | CD: 3
+4 materials (+4 CD/LD odd)
7200 col (HP[1200]*6 - incl. +3 Prosperity)
T4 Perfect Consumable 218947a
T4 Perfect Consumable 218947b
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 218947c
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 218947d

Scouting can resume.

A chorus of screeching voices cried out as Persi's bindings were ripped from her through the force of Freyd's attacks.  Clenching his teeth to fight back doubt, he lunged for the ground behind Delilah, entering her shadows in a desperate gambit he prayed might somehow spare his longtime friend.  She was the one who'd shown him how to navigate the void between shades, his eyes finally opened and understanding after touching that very substance in the battle against Shadow the Malevolent though its possession of Orgoth, the minotaur champion.  His target was they very shadow he was trying to save: Freyd's goal was to burst out through Persi herself on the far side.

Still dazed from being beaten against the forest wall, Persi stumbled to recover her footing, her normally blue eyes currently tinged vibrant, burning red instead.  Those eyes suddenly widened to the size of saucers as her diminutive body suddenly bloated like a balloon, the threads lacing her inky being exploding or disintegrating, lacking any ability to contain something the size and magnitude of a player emerging from within.

Delilah screamed, furious at her new toy being ripped from her control, even as Persi vomited out her true master and spill him back onto the field.  All traces of the red thread menace faded from her as the last of the woven filament dissolved into nothingness.

"Mine!  She's mine and you can't have her.  You can't have any of them.  They're all MINE!"  Rage reverberated through the gossamer weave overhead, making it clear that Delilah herself was also just a pawn.  Someone... something... else was pulling the strings.

***

Post reference, where Freyd touches Shadow: 

Loot Sentinel 3: ID #218943 | LD: 15+14=29 | CD: 6
+2 materials (+2 LD odd)
18000 col (HP[1200]*15 - incl. +2 CD even, +7 from roll, +3 Prosperity)
T4 Perfect Weapon 218943a
T4 Perfect Weapon 218943b
T4 Perfect Weapon 218943c

A whip-like lash struck at him from the right, Persi streaking across the field and trailing unraveling threads like she was weaving a dreamcatcher as she went.  Several strands snared and cut at Freyd's form, sizzling with acrid smoke wherever they touched.  Their affliction was less pain and more numbness, as if the red threads sought to drain its victims very identity to absorb it into its own.  Every such moment matched a pulse in the gossamer filaments overhead.  This thing was learning, growing, becoming more dangerous with every entity it touched or absorbed - woven into itself, quite literally.

"YOU'RE MEAN!"  Scrambling back onto her stomach, Delilah came charging at him on all fours, her bloated body resembling a cross between an angry Ki-raion and some T-virus mutant out of a Resident Evil franchise.  Pouncing on him, she wrapped her lower limbs around Freyd's waist while raking at him with the rest.

"Yes.  I AM!"  Plowing his forehead straight into Delilah's childish face, he broke her hold and sent her reeling backward.  Spinning in place, Freyd reversed Persi's ploy and made it work against her, winding the very thread she'd sough to snare him with and using it to whip her against a half-dozen trees on the outskirts of the clearing.

***

"And now it's going to be your turn, mister.  You've made a mess of my room, and I'm going to make you clean it up."  Delilah stood, filaments still linking her fingertips to Persi's gradually corrupting form, her voice reverberating across the webs wrapped all around the clearing and linking to what he'd first thought was the base of a massive tree.  

"The Labyrinth."  It all came together now.  This wasn't even its heart, merely the gatehouse to the true threat that lay within, meaning that Delilah was just as likely a victim.  "What happened to your father?  Where is he?"

"Father? He never came with us.  He's been in the ground for a long, long time, but mother is still near.  She sings to us!"  The strands sang ominously overhead, their words spoken to the wind in a shrill yet distant voice tinged with the slighted feminine lilt. 

"The magistrate is your mother."

"Yup!  And she's really, REALLY cross with you.  So Muffet, here, and I, are going to have to kill you.  Won't that be fun?!"

Freyd tried to seize the initiative and failed, his own corrupted familiar darting between he and Delilah to smash him in the chest, raking her claws along as she went.  Delilah, meanwhile, sought to stay at range and lance him with spear-like coiled strands from her fingertip.  Too slow to catch Persi, Freyd focused his efforts on the 'girl' instead, dodging and grabbing her projectiles, then yanking forward to throw her off her feet.  A swift kick to the gut folded her in half and sent her sprawling across the yard.  Freyd was mad.  Very mad.  And wasn't about to pull any punches.  Nobody messed with his family.

"I'll show you what it means to be cross."

***

Bursting into a web-laced clearing from where he'd last heard sounds of combat, Freyd finally found his enemy, and also his worst nightmare.  Sickly slurping sounds echoed around the open space as a small hunched figure wrapped in coiled sinew-like fabric, bearing an overwhelming similarity to muscle flayed free of any covering skin.  It was feasting, or sounded like it, causing Freyd's heart to drop into his stomach at the thought of its potential victim.

"You get away from her," he growled, the timbre of his voice darkening to a low and hateful growl.  The slurping stopped as whatever this was slowly lifted its head turning an ear to his direction.

"But we wants to play," came a twisted, girlish voice that might once have been melodious and heartwarming.  Now it was anything but, sounding more akin to wrenching rusted metal apart while slicing through violin strings with a hacksaw.  When it turned its face his way, Freyd recognized the face from the painting in the magistrate's office, its dainty lines and freckles marred by bloated, fuzzy sinew and mass like coiled wool wrapped around a tiny frame.

"Delilah?!  What happened to you?  WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

"I made a friend.  See?"  Standing and stepping aside, Freyd saw the twitching, reddening form of his familiar, her silky inky form pierced and laced with the same red threads that coiled sickeningly around Delilah's tiny body.  She looked like a half-way patchwork doll, as if bits of her had been replaced by this vile crimson menace that continued to twist and force its way into her digital mesh even as he watched.

"Persi. No..."

***

Scouting | 218927 | LD 4+16=20 | Two elite mobs
Total: 276/300

Sparing only an instant, Freyd snatched and spread a pair of healing salves over his wounds as he ran.  

'These thing were ancient, having sat in his inventory for some unfathomable duration.  I really hope they don't expire,' he thought, inwardly cringing at the concept of 'lich loogeys gone worse.'  While he carried a ridiculous assortment of these things, Freyd forever clung to what-if scenarios playing out in the back of his mind, hinting that they should always be preserved in case they were needed for more dire circumstances.  Nope.  Not this time.  This whole mess officially counts as 'worse' enough.

Most importantly, he didn't want to face whatever lay waiting up ahead at anything less than full strength, if it could be avoided.  Feeling the healing effects take hold, he charged forward  at full speed again, channeling his best inner Oscar superhero moves to reach Persi's position as quickly as he could. 

***

Freyd recovers 60 hp.  Now at 1151/1311

Freyd consumes Lich Loogeys (Salve) |HP Recovery 3 | 166170 (+196 hp).  HP now at 1311/1311

Landing with an awkward tumble managed to dull some of the impact, but still left him surrounded by a host of angry spectral dread wolves.  Startled and leaping back from the crash, he knew their moment's hesitation would be all he had to make his break and try to reach Persi's position.  Hopefully, she had managed to lead their foe somewhere more manageable for a final showdown.  He just needed to give these beasts the slip.

"Sorry pups.  No time to play today."  Raking his hands across the leaf-covered ground, Freyd took full advantage of the Fall's offering and filled the air with clouds of fallen leaves.  It wasn't much, but it gave him the briefest of moments to dash forward and obscure his movements long enough to get away - maybe.  Jaws snapped, their eerie toothy canines flashing brightly in the darkness against the backdrop of leaves and shadows.  At the pace he was running, Freyd left a turbulent wake behind him that might just be enough to throw them off his trail.

***

Freyd recovers 60 hp.  Now at 895/1311

Freyd consumes Lich Loogeys (Salve) |HP Recovery 3 | 166161 (+196 hp).  HP now at 1091/1311

These aren't what attacked me.  But who or what are they hunting?

The grim beasts meandered along the floor, sniffing as they went, but it wasn't clear that they were actually looking for him.  Could whatever was playing cat to his mouse equally provoke the native mobs?  Could whatever twist and turn these filaments contrived conspire even against Aincrad's unnatural order?

Wouldn't that be interesting...?

As one, every wolf's head turned in a common direction. The pack moved as single unit, of one mind and guided by instincts combined with programming.  Sensing opportunity, Freyd followed silently from above, hoping to catch a glimpse of their prey, and perhaps and opportunity to return its previous favour.  And maybe, to find what had befallen his familiar.  He wouldn't have to wait long.  More splintering could be heard in the distance.  She was still at it.  Lunging and leaping from branch to branch, just below the pulsing ceiling webs, Freyd kept up with the hunters on the ground below, until fortune snatched once handhold away and left him plummeting through the air.

***

Scouting | 218925 | LD 8+16=24 | Stealth challenge 
Total: 256/300

Freyd recovers 60 hp.  Now at 1163/1311

Stealth roll | ID 218926 | LD 6+2=8 (Fail).  HP reduced by 328 to 835/1311

Snarling at his own indecision, Freyd turned back to his original course.  If something had happened, there was little he could do about it while fighting on enemy ground and on the enemy's terms.  Flitting across the twilight terrain in the manner his shadow mongoose had taught him, Freyd blended in with the undergrowth.  No footstep, no broken branches or snapped twigs.  No sign that he even existed was left behind.  Finding a safer perch and observation among the higher boughs of the trees, he had previously avoided climbing out of concerns about the increases presence and density of the gossamer cloud.   Taking a chance, he'd found himself a vantage where there existed a bit of a gap in their coverage and he could better scan his surroundings, searching for whatever was after him.

Nothing was visible below, at least for the first few minutes, until at last a pair of spectral wolves with grisly, ghostly miens rounded a nearby rocky outcrop.  Several more emerged from out of nowhere.  An entire pack.

***

Freyd recovers 60 hp.  Now at 1103/1311

"Persi," he called out, his trusty familiar never having wandered too far afield, "See if you can buy me some time."  Her scurrying form was instantly lost among the other roiling shadows, their enemy likely using the same for cover.  And be careful, he added, only to himself.  They had faced countless dangers together, but something about this mysterious threat seemed to break or even exist outside the regular rules and conventions of Aincrad's digital existence.  Anything could happen.

Dashing deeper through the tree line, Freyd was searching for advantage - any advantage - he could use to turn the tables on whatever had just sprung itself on him a few minutes ago.  Wild crashing and thrashing behind him signaled that Persi had found her target and was hopefully making its life miserable.  A smile died stillborn on his lips at the sound of a bloodcurdling scream, explosive splintering of wood and the tumbling of heavy trunks bouncing off of their neighbours.  Stopping to listen, tempted to turn back and rush to his familiar's rescue, Freyd knew this wasn't the right place to do so.

Please, Persi.  Be safe.

A lump of unfamiliar concern lodged itself in the Whisper's throat.

***

Freyd recovers 60 hp.  Now at 1043/1311

It was small, fast and light on its feet, crawling about in the treetops and clever at hiding itself.  The strands provided a passing degree of ambient light.  Freyd's darkvision managed the rest, giving him a clearer view than his pursuer might realize. Moving as quietly as he could to put a few of the more substantial tree trunks between himself and their suspected locations, he sought to lose them by manipulating shadows to create duplicates of himself.  Nothing happened.  A second confirmation that something was off, but he'd taken the chance and risked tipping his hand.

Snarling from above!  A twist and a tumble met with searing pain in his right leg, below the knee.  Sheer intensity signaled a significant wound.  Freyd had taken enough pummelings to recognize the signs when pain suppression's thresholds were exceeded.  Barely able to make out his assailant, it scurried away before he could react.  Given the circumstances, it seemed a prudent action for himself as well.

***

Scouting | 218923 | LD 6+16=22 | Stealth challenge
Total: 232/300

Stealth roll | ID 218924 | LD 7+2=9 (Fail).  HP reduced by 328 to 983/1311

Racing recklessly through the underbrush, Freyd couldn't even tell what he was meant to be running from.  No enemy had shown itself.  Other than the ruddy gossamer netting strewn overhead and all around, and a few stray wolf calls, he hadn't actually seen a single soul.  The house that tried to eat him was an obvious exclusion, that being more a facet of weird vector-based environmental hazards, at least in his tech-addled mind.

Slowing his pace, and his breathing, it felt weird to feel his pulse crashing against his temples like a hurricane.

What the hell?  This isn't like me.

Checking himself all over, he wondered whether he might have been drugged or poisoned by some secret toxin, even going so far as to down an antidote on the off chance it was something never encountered before.

Stillness also sharpened his senses, confirming that he was not alone after all.  Something, or someone, was prowling nearby, though it stopped shortly after realizing that he had. 

I'm being hunted.

"Not a place to linger," Freyd instantly decided. Dashing into the woods instead, his general lack of familiarity with the floor left him with no destination in mind.  Glyndebourne was still too hot, and he'd not yet heard from Foyle or the others.  Haunting woods filled with creepy fibrous badness in the dead of night really also didn't seem like the best place or time to check his messages.  

I need to find shelter, then hopefully contact the others.  They may have found out more while I've wandered aimlessly into the wilderness.  At least the notes he'd found in the Lord Magistrate's presumed home might offer some additional insights, once he had more context and time for study.  High ground.  A vantage with multiple points of escape.  Should I just portal out of here?

The though had harried him since parting ways with Morningstar, but he couldn't quite bring himself to shatter the requisite crystal.  Something ominous was happening here, and the longer it was permitted to persist, the more NPCs might share Sally's fate, let alone the dreadful possibility that it could spread to players.

The day's final rays peered through the gossamer, ushered along by another rising cloud of dust and the thunder of a storm growing decidedly less distant.  Only once the last of the light had gone did he realize that the remaining filaments carried a soft reddish glow that seemed to pulse along them.  It would have been invisible in daylight, but now he realized how far these things extended.

"Fuck.  They're everywhere."

The wolves agreed, howling with promise and delight in the distance.  Freyd just wanted to facepalm.  This really wasn't turning out to be a great day.

"Y'know," he called out aloud the floor in its entirety, "you could have just kept your issues to yourself.  I would have been perfectly content with a cup of cider and a cosy campfire dedicated to the roasting of something tasty."

Whipping winds stirred to protest against his desires, screeching through the strands to sound like the worst of novice violin players.  Freyd nearly broke a tooth clenching his jaw at the awfulness of the sound.

***

Scouting | 218922 | LD 20+16=36 | Nothing happens
Total: 210/300

There was no warning.  No ominous creaking, splintering of heavy timber or dramatic, slow-motion leaning.  It just... fell over, with him inside.  Springing to action was essentially pointless.  There was nothing firmly fastened in the room and the decorative wall panels were too shallow in profile to offer any hope for a handhold.  Freyd found himself sliding once more into darkness as the surrounding room crashed into the basement, along with most of the remaining outer manor walls.

Horrid keening screeched split his ears as Freyd stepped through shadows to reappear in the darkness of the treeline at the edges of the manor grounds.  It was either that, or get buried beneath another pile of pointy rubble.  'I might even have gotten a splinter,' he thought, jokingly.  Everything about this place still felt off.  Looking back at the ruined building, he realized whence the screams had come: the strands.  Most of them had been severed during the impromptu demolition, now flailing like drifting pennants in the wind. 

Most of the contents were reports of various kinds from around the rest of Floor 28, referencing seditious activities, belligerent defiance of his Majesty's soldiers, and a seemingly coordinate effort to deny the royal tax collector his due.  Additional guards had been assigned, but local resentment was brewing, and had apparently been for some time.  Most of it was mundane and fit within the floor's historical theme.  A few of the latter reports were notably stranger.  A shipment of new goods from afar had recently arrived in Glyndebourne, causing quite the stir among locals and loyalists alike.  The details were vague, but mentioned vibrant new fashions that complimented existing palettes.  Freyd cast a sideway glance at the colour-drained chair, realizing at the same moment how long shadows had grown throughout the room.  There were no other lights in here.  Folding the papers and tucking them into his jacket, it seemed prudent to leave this place before night fell, except that the building suddenly did, instead.

Feeling around the edges of the painting's ornate frame, Freyd studied the features of its subject for clues about her parent's features. 

"Nothing prevents this Lord Magistrate from being a woman," he reminded himself, thinking that the sort of twist that Cardinal might introduce, just to play against prejudice.  Find the clips holding the painting in place, he released them, then unhooked and removed the painting.  No one was around to notice the unusual care or gentle manner of his handling, which seemed uncharacteristic.  Few knew of Freyd's soft spot for children, though Cardinal did and had used it against him in the past.  Despite his relentless detachment, this was one 'weakness' he just couldn't shake, or maybe didn't want to.

A simple concealed compartment was revealed, recessed into the paster surface of the wall.  No safe or other elaborate mechanisms needed to be hacked.

"It would have ruined the painting," he realized, imagining a dial and handle project from the surface of a metal door.  Delilah was indeed precious.  Collecting the contents, most automatically transferred to his inventory, the rest were brought back to the desk for examination.

***

Open treasure chest | 218921 | CD 7 | LD 4+13=17

7,000 col
12 materials
T4 Perfect Weapon 218921a
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 218921b
T4 Perfect Consumable 218921c
T4 Perfect Consumable 218921d

The note looked to have been torn into pieces before it was set alight.  Whoever tossed it in the bin wasn't thinking.  Air-tight, the canister would have suffocated the flames and prevented the arson its completion.

"Alright," Freyd whispered, wondering what it could possibly mean.  The cursive script itself was firm, bold and eloquent, signaling a refined education and practiced hand.  "Sounds like traits you'd associate with someone expecting to be sitting in this chair."  Pushing the chair aside, he kneeled and looked out across the room, trying to imagine himself in the place of the person penning the mysterious missive.  Freyd's eyes quickly fell upon the painting on the wall to his left, depicting a young girl in a pretty yellow dress with petticoat, a parasol draped over her shoulder.

"A daughter?"  He looked at the note again.  "Hello, Delilah."

***

Scouting | 218920 | LD 13+16=29 | Treasure chest found
Total: 174/300

Having pulled back the chair, Fred noticed a tarnished silver ash bin tucked in deep beneath the desk, where the room's master could conceal evidence of a potential vice, if they felt it necessary.  Pulling it out, the canister seemed neglected compared to the rest of the room's immaculate level of care.

"How did none of the dust and debris from the rest of the manor's collapse get in here?"

The house groaned and protested at his words, as if speaking them aloud had reminded it that it was mortally wounded and should already have fallen apart.  Pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, Freyd scolded himself internally for giving Cardinal ideas.  The bloody murder machine did well enough on its own without him adding suggestions.  Lifting open the tin's lid, he'd expected to find ashes from a set of cigars, not mostly scorched scraps of paper.  Pulling them out, Freyd spilled the bin's contents all over the desktop and reconstructed the writings as quickly as he could manage.

Several things stood out, immediately, to the keen-eyed Whisper's survey.  The room was completely devoid of strands and filaments. Despite their overwhelming concentration outside of its very walls, this place was bare.  Their absence was jarring, compared to the exterior.  There should also have been carpets and tapestries in here, quite obviously by the patterned discolorations on certain parts of the floor and walls.  Things had been spread and hung within that were obviously absent.  Everything remaining in the room was made of something other than fabric, except the cushioned seat and back of the ornate chair behind the desk. Looking like it should have once been lush and vibrant, the plush texture had been bleached to near-translucent white.

Walking carefully around the desk, feet touching the floor boards as gingerly as possible, Freyd was wary of potential traps.  He even stooped to check that the chair itself wasn't on some sort of pressure plate or tilting trigger before sliding it back for closer inspection.  Nothing.  Only fuzzy colourless fabric remained as he ran his leather glove over its surface.

"No dust?"

Looking around the room once more confirmed it.  Not a single speck on any surface.  Either someone Pledged excessively, or something very hinky was going on.

"A good choice," Freyd replied, flicking his wrist to set fresh bait on his latest aquatic murder spree.  At least, that was how Quip tended to describe them when he unloaded all of the collected materials at the shop.  "I'm an appraiser, myself.  Being able to craft your own weapons and armor definitely has its perks.  And, while most players pick up a trade at some point, not all that many keep up with them.  You'll see plenty of shops scattered across this floating castle.  Few seem to have active keepers."

The line tensed as something poked at his bobber, causing the slightest creak as Freyd increased the firmness of his grasp.  

"Let me know if you ever find gear that needs identifying.  I'd be happy to help, and typically do so at cost.  Making a profit is hardly a worthwhile goal when all of our existences are on the line."  A dour grin set itself firmly on the man's features.  "There are also much better ways to collect materials than picking them from tree branches and finding them under rocks, but sometimes the systems simply imposes its will.  You'll be better off for having completed this quest, and the many others that follow it.  We can probably also carry you through a few of them to give you a leg up on leveling.  Combat tends to be unforgiving, at first."

***

Fishing ID 218919 | CD 7+1=8 | LD 1+1=2 | +1 Material (+10 EXP)
Practiced Angler: (+2 EXP/attempt, +1 CD, +1 LD when fishing)
R4 Fisher | +3 to LD when opening fishing treasure chests
No Olympic Fishing Tool

+46 Fishing EXP this thread

Scanning the contents of the room revealed no obvious or imminent threat.

"That would be too easy, right?"  Obvious enemies were easy to deal with.  The sneaky, insidious types were far more bothersome.  He knew it all too well.  Freyd counted himself among the latter, as did a good many others who'd crossed him, Firm Anima or their allies.  Few people even realized that the renown crafting guild had a clandestine division, which was the whole point.  They wouldn't be worth their name if everyone knew about them.  Straying thoughts also reminded him of the tiny black book that had been burning a hole in the back of his soul for some time now.  Freyd's features unconsciously retreated into his cowl just by thinking about it.  Aincrad could not afford to remain without its Faceless Lord forever.

This room might have prompted those thoughts, appertained as it was to such potential.  Mastermind vibes abounded, as did a sense of symbolically reinforced hierarchy.  Every detail in the chamber had been crafted to assert a subtle dominance over all other occupants.

***

Scouting | 218915 | LD 20+16=36 | Nothing happens
Total: 145/300

Cooldowns: Grappling (5/5)

Careful not to disturb the web-like threads, Freyd fully expected some sort of phase spider to leap through the remaining walls and try to bite his face off.  With most of the dust settled again, only the whistling of the wind against the interior offered any sound.  This place felt like a tomb, or like it might be ready to become one.  Stepping through shadows to bridge the final gap, the Whisper had reached the small section of floor that remained outside the door leading to the only surviving part of the upper floor.  The door itself was free of filaments, but every inch of the surrounding walls and ceiling we lousy with them, the vast majority pulsing with that deep vermillion he had come to recognize and dread.

Pressing his index finger to his lips, he signaled Persi to be ready and reached for the tarnished brass knob that would reveal their fates.  Swinging open easily, on well-oiled hinges, the portal revealed a lavish study replete with trophies, mementos and other commemorative trinkets celebrating a long and lavishly decorated career.  An opulent, stained oak desk dominated the centre of the chamber, clearly set as the focal point of the room and facing a half-circle of six smaller and notably mundane chairs. 

"This was where people came to get schooled, or otherwise bullied about by whatever master claimed title over the space."

***

EN regen 2/2
Cooldowns: Grappling (4/5), Charge (3/3)