Quaestor

"I wonder if they're such a place for cooks somewhere on this floor," he mused, drinking in the excessive decor. If there was, why wasn't Maggie's shop there instead of where it was? Maybe that meant there wasn't? Doubt prompted a quick check of his HUD. "Not even halfway? Damn. Either this quest got harder or even my gathering skills got rusty." "They call it foraging now." "Whut?" It took him a moment to even realize who had spoken to him, let alone realize that he'd been musing aloud. "Oh, uh, hello. Didn't see you there. Sorry about that." The skinny young boy

Approaching the edge of town, the dark, crimson red of his centurion's uniform clashed harshly against the more predominant pink. Some random woman in an elegant sari simply fainted as he approached, aghast at the very notion that he would dare enter their pristine village. "Oh, uh? Is she gonna be okay?" He asked innocently, eyes wide that people could take fashion so seriously. Who was he kidding? His youngest sister had always been just as dramatic about fashion, which made the whole thing more dismissible. Only the dedicated illuminati of the craft could possibly understand, r

Putting his back to the past, Quaestor resumed his walkabout, searching long the shores of a nearby creek and through the thin foliage and underbrush of the first floor's mostly cultivated landscape. All the recipes he'd developed remained in his menus, he simply couldn't reach or activate any of them. Frustrating as it might be, he'd hardly allowed himself passage beyond the threshold of his shop and home until more recent days. He'd moved there to hide away from the world and found his hopes rekindled instead. Maybe there was something to be said for faith, after all. Tolbana fell b

Setting aside the demands of his quest, for but a moment, Quaestor scoured the ruined woodlot in the area that once was the great hall of the Madrigal. "It might still be here. And if it is..." A small depression in the corner, filled with water and overgrown with weeds. The position was about right. Pulling back the fronds and reaching down, he drew forth a badly worn crest, most of its colour faded to gone. Not much remained of the sculptural relief, but there was enough. Just as its members had faded, and few now remained, they too would regain their standing and clarity. The

Gripping the stone, he swore his oath to the legacy of those who fell in this place. Such an act would mean nothing to the digital overlord that governed this place, but it meant something to him. It would mean something to his family and any others who might have survived the brutal purge. Likewise, he'd find who did this and made sure they paid for their predatory ways. The lone centurion sat in silence a while, pondering the meaning of everything he'd just promised and how he could possibly made good on his words. The guild would have to be reforged, for sure. The others were al

"How could I have let this happen?!" He knew the truth. Miri's loss had ruined him and any good he might have offered to his fallen guild mates. Despite all past efforts, his strength had left him in the aftermath of her disappearance. It had left them all. Seating himself on a stack of broken blocks near where the main hearth once stood, his mailed hand patted it softly, as if soothing a child. "Sorry, chums. I let you down, and I'm going to have to live with that." Looking about, memories filled in most of what reality was missing, at least to the extent that this place was ever

"We'll bring it all back," he swore to himself. "The Madrigal can rise again, and be even better than before." Brass plates creaked and squealed as Quaestor clenched his armored fist, the gauntlet long overdue for a bit of oil and attention. A tug at the horse-haired plume on his helm turned his head, like some sort of strange destiny-driven weather vane. Bits of shaped stone poked out from the edge of a nearby copse of trees, supporting timbers long since burnt were barely visible in the thick underbrush. A few quick cutting slashes from his axe. "Is this... home?" Rooting

"I'll need to make peace with Jeeves," he admitted aloud, scolding himself while kicking a few stray pebbles along the dusty road. He'd already punted that apology too far along. The man had lost his sister, and all Quaestor could manage was to shut him out. It wasn't like him, and he owed better - especially to family. "When I get back." A sailor's promise made, and debt owed. Such things were not taken lightly. The burbling of water caught his attention. Ahead, a shallow stream crossed his path, its stony bed having seen ample traffic over the years. Nearby outcrops of gr

Skirting the edges of the sleepy village, Quaestor waved to a few fellow players as they went about their business. A light breeze swept over the landscape, setting the grassy plains aflutter. It reminded him of the sea, where he'd spent so much of his life. News had reached him that some of the upper floors had wide expanses of water, and even sailing vessels, but they were unlocked long after he'd retired from the adventuring life. Perhaps, with things changing, he might drag Miri up there - not that he would likely have to do so. She'd just as soon race him and take a dive off the firs

A few shimmering fronds on the edge of a nearby brook caught his attention. Herbs line the dazzling water's edge, commanding his attention. They would serve Maggie well. Bending low, Quaestor observed a group of players walking and talking nearby: three men and one woman, laughing and playing as they went. It brought a smile to his mustached lips to see that such bonds still survived. Retreating to Angel's Point had been a deliberate withdrawal from the world and people still left in it. Granted, it provided the space and time he'd needed to recover from Miri's disappearance, he'd al

Reaching the outskirts of Tolbana, Quaestor recalled its walls in flames, assaulted by seemingly endless hordes of ravenous kobolds. Jeeves mocked them, at first, 'til one nearly bit his nose off. The mental scene drew forth a hearty chuckle as the elder warrior wandered through farmers' fields, savouring the scents and scenery laid out before him. It had been so long since wanderlust had last claimed him. "Damn! This quest doesn't have a time limit, does it?!" Summoning the details in his UI afforded a sigh of relief. Expecting to be winded for wandering so long in his heavy bronze

Eager as he was to return to his beloved, the allure of nostalgia soon claimed him, setting him adrift in the rolling hills and valleys on the outskirts of the floor. Wide green fields and pastures littered the landscape. It felt strangely like returning to the lands of an artificial youth - one thought forever lost to an oblivion of despair. Clouds floated overhead, casting shade like blotchy bad memories over the landscape. Like fate, they could not be avoided. The good and bad of his own fractured past caught up with him: early battles with boars, Tython's first epic costume fail, and

It took little time to find the fields that would produce what was required, but Quaestor was picky about his ingredients and always had been. Most ship cooks mashed together anything they found, much of it questionable, or else boiled it until all taste or hint of original identity was unrecognizable. He had always held himself to a higher standard and earned the love and loyalty of this shipmates for it. So had it been for his kin in their first forays into this magnificent, murderous cage. They'd held strong, even thrived in the early days of SAO, despite the chaos and uncertainty. Th

It took a while to find the right place. Quaestor's forays beyond the bounds of Angel's Point had been rather limited since the Madrigal's decline. Hours were lost to wandering the streets and plazas of the Town of Beginnings until he finally found his destination. "Oh, sure, this one opens with no trouble," he muttered under his breath as he entered the establishment. "Ah! Good lady! Nice to see that you're in. I was hoping that you might be able to-" "Can't," barked a slender blonde, beauty as she spun past him carrying three different platters to a nearby table of drooling p

"What do you mean 'inaccessible'?! I've been tending this shop for years!" Flustered and frowning, the normally chipper and friendly man had soured on the spot when a system error spawned in the window to his own treasured venue: Quaestor's Quisine. Despite the strength of his grip and vigorous shake, the damnable knob wouldn't budge so much as a fraction of an inch. "I was in here last night!" A furrowed brow signaled trouble for anyone found or deemed to be responsible for this nuisance. As good-natured as he was, nobody messed with his kitchen. Rapid inspection discovered no

____________________ name quentin harbridge age 30 gender m origin english (uk) height 187cm weight 113kg birthday orientation hetero guild none ____________________ document [sp tracking] [inventory] [consumables] [shop] [housing] alt characters [alts] Quentin Harbridge is the bastion of the Madrigal, or he was. Hearty and broad-shouldered, he wa