Oscar

It was a blissful Tuesday afternoon. Or was it Thursday? Time twisted in on itself - blended together like oozing paint upon a palette - within the confines of Oscar’s digital prison. He liked to think that whatever day sprang to mind when his feet hit the floor in the morning was the most accurate one. It was difficult to know for certain, but it felt like a Tuesday. It wasn’t droll like Monday, neither was there rising anticipation that accompanied the weekend. The air was charged with a sensation of ambivalence. Thus, Tuesday. As he did every Tuesday - or every day that ended in ‘y,’ t

Oscar took only two things seriously. This was not one of those two things. After the initial shock of the Thorns causing his health to dip, things quickly played out just as they always did. Boring combat against enemies who either couldn't hit or could deal any real level of damage. This Quest was just another one of those hand-holding ones. The NPCs focused their attention on Ryland, sticking the man with their weapons instead of the actual tank of the party. He was almost insulted. Oscar had gone through great pains to build himself up to this level and now everything he'd worked towards d

Oscar could have opened a shop with the sheer amount of swords that were junking up his inventory. But he was no Appraiser. It was Jackpot's job to handle that nonsense. Oscar had located the strongest twine in the game and bound two dozen of the things together into a neat bundle. A neat bundle that was then javelin-tossed through the mouth of the cave that served as Jackpot's front door. The swords slammed into the counter like so many darts, remaining stuck in the front. There was a sticky note attached to the multitudes:

"Unfortunately," Oscar said with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head as Ryland marched on towards his pre-set path to the next Quest destination. "I fail to understand why Cardinal has suddenly decided we need our hands held. Didn't have these sorts of issues when we were on the come up." Red text flashed across his screen: Warning: Do not get too far away from Quest Companion. He was certain that Cordelia had got the same message. With a groan, Oscar shook his head and pushed forward. As he did, his hand sought Cordelia's. Linking his fingers with hers, he

“I’ll hold you to that,” Oscar said as he wrapped his arms around her once more. Not once did he think that things would turn out like this. After everything he did and everything he was willing to sacrifice, he expected the shoe to fall. He expected the consequences of his actions to force a wedge between him and the people he cared for. And most of all, he never expected Cordelia’s return. And yet, here she was. In his arms once more. He was fit to bursting, chest swelling with raw emotion. But it was in this state that he was never more keenly aware of who - what - he was. A killer - a mons

“Hate you?” Oscar’s hands moved to her shoulders as he took a step back. He held her in place, moving his gaze down to lock eyes with her. He was almost offended by the notion. And no sound was quite so terrible as her weeping. After everything, he didn’t know whether they could simply pick up where they left off. His expression was inscrutable, almost steely as his eyes narrowed in focus. His right hand moved from her shoulder. His fingertips ghosted across her cheek, wiping away her tears as they streamed down her face. “I could never,” he said softly as his lips stretched outward

He was missing something. Why was Cordelia apologizing to him? He was the one who disappeared in a self-imposed exile. His heart ached at the thought of how long he’d kept her waiting - the idea that she would have been up nights, listening for the slightest creak that might indicate his return. What torment he had put her through? But from the way she spoke, it was as if the shoe were on the other foot. That she had wronged him. And that simply couldn’t be further from the truth. Ryland stepped in, threatening to derail the reunion. Oscar’s brow furrowed in irritation, but he elected to

It was rare that Oscar found himself scolded over his treatment of NPCs. He cared little for the fluff they offered. An NPC was not adequate company, barely even worth his time. And they always droned on about the Lore and the situation. Things he cared even less about. Reality remained at the fore of his mind, fixed and immovable, that this was little more than an illusion. Their words were designed to distract. He would have none of it. Nothing was more important than remaining focused on the task at hand: escaping this game. His resolve did waver as the person spoke. The voice was fami

With his new weapons finished, Oscar took a moment to admire Macradon's work. It was, of course, peerless craftsmanship as always. He added both items to his inventory with a smile. It was a mixture between the satisfaction of owning two fantastic weapons, but also seeing the gusto with which the man consumed the food Oscar had brought. Not wanting to be rude, Oscar indulged in a cup of tea and a couple biscuits. Macradon's hospitality was almost as legendary as his skills as a blacksmith. "You know," Oscar said. "I've been coming here since I was level one. You've always been a great help not

Pirates. Whether pillaging the seas or the skies, it mattered little to Oscar. Regardless of verticality, they were always good for a bit of fun. He recalled fond memories of combating the ocean-bound ruffians. A screaming fireball of a ship colliding with their cove, the larger-than-life acrobatics. All the cutscenes he skipped in the name of dogwalking some scurvy dogs. He wondered whether the Skyrats of Floor 26 would be quite as interesting. The NPC questgiver had droned on and on about the problems that the guard were facing. How the Skyrats were taking advantage of the power vacuum

Oscar was nothing if not a creature of habit. The same places, the same people. One might think that he was unwilling to venture out of his comfort zone. And, one might be correct. But when it comes to craftsmanship, once you find someone dependable, you stick with them. That's the way it is with landscapers and mechanics. So why would it not be the same with Blacksmiths in a virtual reality death game. Oscar made his way to the Blazing Typhoon after a successful haul from Jackpot's shop. Macradon was the only one that Oscar trusted enough to put hands on the weapons that he would carry i

Oscar looked over the items that Jackpot had managed to produce. There was definitely plenty to work with here. He made his selections from the assembly, picking out those with enhancements that he might be able to get some use out of. The bar was high, set against The Vampire as it was. But, he saw plenty of potential here. Oscar added more Col to the pile to fun the Appraiser's work before turning toward the door. "I'm gonna make a quick pit stop and get these worked into something useful. Feel free to take your time on this next order." As Oscar stepped out of the shop, he raised one hand a

"Indeed," Oscar replied with a smile as he dropped yet another pile of weapons onto the counter. They clattered across the wooden surface, slipping and sliding and cascading to the ground along the edges. "Just got back from a big hunt. I'm gonna be here a while. This should cover your costs." Oscar capped off his delivery by plopping a comically large sack of Col atop the precarious peak formed by the mountain of weaponry. It even had a dollar sign painted on the side, even though these were not, in fact, dollars.

After Oscar's dissociative looting spree, he decided that now was a good time to get himself a weapon that enemies could actually feel. His standard weapon hadn't failed him and it was very good for tanking. But it didn't fill that niche for something with a little oomph. So it was time to brave the spiders and go to that cave that no one every looked at on the floor no one ever went to. Simmone had, until now, been his go-to. But with a haul like this, it was important to share the love. And Jackpot did not have an entire Guild that Oscar could swear was multiboxed behind him.

Skill(s) Being Dropped: Custom Skill: Veteran Mod(s)/Addon(s)/Shift(s) Being Dropped: N/A SP Refunded: 10 Cost: 10,000 Col

Skill refund request Custom Skill: Veteran - 10 SP

THREAD TRANSCRIPT

Thank u for this kindness I owe u my lif

Thread Summary Oscar | [Word Count: 13477/10 = 1347.7] * [True Tier: 9] * [Group Factor: 1]*[Exp Bonus: 0.1] = 13342 EXP, Laurel Wreath: 2001 col <<Shatter>> Tech 1,015,337 Col 502 Materials 10 Demonic Shards 34 Gleaming Scales T4 Perfect Trinket: 224487, 224488, 224570, 224639, 224661, 224671, 224726, 224750, 225534, 225535, 225547, 225606, 225608, 225657, 225681, 225682, 225694, 225883, 225926, 225934 T4 Perfect Armor/Shield IDs: 224421-1, 224421-2, 224431-1, 224431-2, 224447, 224453-1. 224453-2, 224456-1. 224456-2, 224485-1, 224485-2, 224487, 224503, 22451

“Still, it’s gonna be a hard road. A lot of people are going to have differing opinions on how you should have handled it.” “I know. But it was my fight and my mess. I should be the one to decide how it all ends up.” “True. But you need to be ready to defend yourself. But who knows? Maybe Tyson will surprise us both. Maybe he grows into the role he made for himself.” “Maybe. But I don’t think he’s realized the full scope of it all. I don’t think he ever did. Holding back Laughing Coffin? They’re going to come for him.” “And us. Need to get him ready. For everyone’s sake.”

Oscar returned to himself, standing within that dark corridor. And when he did, he saw his Twin. But unlike the other interactions, the doppelganger was smiling. “Have fun?” Oscar returned his twin’s smile, shaking his head in the process. “I’m gonna be honest, I never held much stock in vision quests or hallucinations like this. But I have to admit, it was helpful.” “Good. So you know what you have to do?” “Of course,” Oscar replied, his tone a bit more chipper. A bit more himself. “Just need to avoid fucking it up again. Easy.” “Easy,” his twin agreed. “Most difficu

But his Twin had been right. If Oscar was going to do this and try to redeem someone with a history as bloody as Tyson, he would need to approach it with the same confidence that he approached everything else. It was difficult to admit to himself, but he’d failed the kid once. He should have been there. Maybe he could have shielded him. Or, failing that, they could have undertaken Tyson’s burden together. Or maybe this was the way everything was supposed to play out. Maybe he simply needed to fail in order to eventually succeed. Because despite everything, Tyson’s goal was almost noble. Grim a

It seemed that everything was tied up with a neat little bow. Oscar, and by extension, his friends and allies, were no longer threatened by a puppetmaster and his shadowy organization. But many sacrifices had been made on this road. Oscar wasn’t so delusional as to think that he left this ordeal the same as he’d gone into it. That his relationships had survived the process. If he were being honest, he couldn’t think of a single one that had survived. Not a single relationship remained as it was. He would need to try to fix that. Oscar had his own demons to battle and his own sins to atone for.

It was decided that Tyson would take charge of custodial work in the Orphanage. Many eyes would be upon him. He wouldn’t be allowed to move freely. Quite the opposite, in fact. He would be more or less left to languish in the Town of Beginnings, running errands for the caretakers and being relentlessly bullied by the children. Oscar loved kids, but they were a handful. He wondered how long Tyson would make it before he began to wish to be suddenly struck deaf. The craftsmen and the Players that frequented the town were instructed to notify Oscar immediately if Tyson tried to leave the walls. I

It was all a pretext for keeping an eye on the kid. Oscar dared to allow himself to be optimistic. Maybe he could do better by him with this second chance. There was no undoing what he did. They couldn’t turn back the clock. But he could begin to atone. Oscar couldn’t say that the kid was irredeemable. He wasn’t yet certain. That was the key difference between Tyson and all the men Oscar had killed. Tyson had a reason. He had a purpose. He wasn’t killing for the sake of killing. And while his methods could be construed as barbaric, Oscar couldn’t say that they weren’t effective. In this and in