Oscar

10-6 <<Gungnir's Shard - Crafter's Respite>> Used

It came to him in a dream. A feast of legendary quality and proportions. An event where the meat was plentiful and the drink flowed freely. A festival of sorts, friends summoned from all over merely for the simple enjoyment of a shared meal. He awoke with a start, gripped with a sudden realization. He was a Grandmaster Cook. What, exactly, was stopping him from cooking bosses? He had the skills. He had the power. And he had people whom he could summon for his newfound goal. Without even taking a moment to think it through, a flurry of messages was sent out. To @Freydand to @NIGHT

“No more secrets,” Oscar agreed. The man found it funny how he was so easily able to commit to other things. It simply came so naturally to throw himself - his entire self - into the thick of things. He made no half measures. Except when it came to her. And it was tragic. Perhaps it was fear of the unknown or of his own happiness that held him back. But it did hold him back. It was an untenable notion. His actions needed to follow his words. They needed to telegraph his feelings. Oscar had never felt so profoundly about anyone. It was something he said to her and to himself time and time again

At his core, Oscar wasn’t a man that liked to be kept waiting. There was always so much to do and so few hours to do it in. So much so, that Oscar had settled into a routine that ensured that he managed to get it all done. His mornings had always started the same, bled into his midday in the same manner, and finally ended as they always did. Everything was meticulously scheduled and planned down to the minute. Though one wouldn’t peg him for such a conscientious person at first glance. He was not wont to take much of anything seriously. Fortunately, this fell firmly within his free time. Usual

After what felt like an eternity, Oscar returned to Jackpot's shop to accept his fusion components. He mused to himself how sometimes things seemed to be done instantaneously but then sometimes they seemed to drag on weeks. Almost as if there was an unseen puppetmaster tugging the strings. A puppetmaster with limited availablity, not often willing or able to engage with his obligations. It seemed ludicrous to imagine such a thing. That his actions were not his own. But he figured that if such an entity did exist, they were probably bald. Components accepted

Transferring 1 Demonic Shard and 2 Gleaming Scales to @Jomei

Cordelia’s reaction was as over-the-top as it was adorable. He wondered whether she was flustered so because of Oscar’s poor attempt at flirting or because it sailed over her head initially. Some combination of both, he imagined. Still, Oscar didn’t want to laugh at her plight. But despite what he wanted to do, the low chuckle escaped him anyway. He decided not to give her time to react to it. Without a word, he lowered himself down to lay at her side. She could have her moment of mortification - their resources were not quite restored after all. But he wouldn’t have her go it alone. Osca

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Their light-hearted banter made one forget that they were in the midst of a very chaotic situation. Other Players had a tendency to read into the NPCs. Engage with them as if they were real people. Oscar, on the other hand, saw them for what they actually were. A balm for the painful reality they were stuck in. Created by some artificial intelligence to keep the Players from completely losing their minds. They were a balm that Oscar neither needed nor wanted. To him, they were set dressing. At best, something to interact with as little as possible to get to his end goal. Cordelia, however

How quickly they fell back into old habits. Their teamwork had always been peerless. There was zero hesitation as Cordelia took advantage of the window Oscar provided. After the cutest of tantrums, of course. With a smile, Oscar took off after her. Weapon at the ready, the man sliced through the enemy host a split-second after the damage that Cordelia had dealt registered. The result was the whistle of two slashes, each in quick succession. Both attacks delivered with such speed and precision that the targets would have scarcely had time to react even if they weren’t stunned. “Oh I’m abso

“And here come the next four, right on cue,” Oscar said. Their fighting had attracted another group of rogues. These seemed to be more rough around the edges. With what little attention Oscar was giving the story, it was clear that these were the pirates that the guards were paying off. Ordinarily, Oscar might complain about things. How the quest gave him little time to catch his breath or regenerate his resources. But that would fall on deaf ears given how much disdain he had for their NPC escort. He wondered whether there would be any additional reward if they kept the man alive.

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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.