Freyd

Could sentiments ring out in echo? Hearing his thoughts given voice through her words was unexpected, though also heartwarming. Old Elora would have smiled awkwardly, contrived some excuse or self-effacing lie to smother any risk of exposing her own perceived flaws or felt inadequacies. Hints curled upward at the edges of his lips even as careworn edges weathered down the default arch and harshness of his brows. A ring of truth. A touch of the bond slowly yet still burgeoning between them, delivered through the tenderest of touches and the image of fairest skin. Understanding. Pri

Freyd entered the hall and stared at things because the sign on the door said he couldn't just wander in and pick up what he'd wanted. The prescribed time since his last visit had lapsed. He stood around waiting and wasting time, because some arbitrary rule meant he had to, even though there was absolutely no point to it, whatsoever. It was dull, meaningless and felt like a complete waste of time, because it was. Running a mailed gauntlet along poorly traveled surfaces was in no way to test for dust, but if you needed to kill a few minutes, then ensure that they were utterly slain, why not

A giant clawed mitt wreathed in raw, pungent decay wrapped itself around his leg, ensuring hurt would follow. Freyd felt Callisto's massive claws bite into his leg too deep to easily escape. Then the horizon went on a topsy-turvy joy ride, spinning every which way as he was tossed around relentlessly. Whatever rage had twisted this creature, blighting and rotting its body and mind, he'd clearly gotten under its skin - not that it was that hard to do. Half of it was sloughing off already anyway. Resigned to the strange realization that things were going exactly to plan meant his situati

Thread Closing: Typhoonflame receives: 3,301 EXP (Word Count [4312/10*1*0.7] + Quest [5000]) 26,900 col (1 page [400] + Loot [16,500] + Quest [10000]) 1 mon 1 Guild Token [Firm Anima] Unlock <<Forgotten King's Authority>> Extra Skill Freyd receives: 5,430 EXP (Word Count [4312/10*1*0.7] + Quest [0]) 814 col (1 page [0] + 15% P5 Reward [814]) 2 Materials (Loot [2]) 1 mon 1 Guild Token [Firm Anima] T4 Rare Consumable 237355a T4 Rare Armor/Shield 237355b FTK Party Leader Reward | ID 237696 | LD 20 | Forgotten King's Spite | T3 Demonic Weapon

Freyd took in Ty's response with little more than a curious raising of his left eyebrow. There was no right answer. Everyone picked up something different. The point was to be able to answer with any kind of insight at all, otherwise, he'd have just taken a beating for no reason. Sheathing his blade, the Whisper returned to his ward's side, seemingly content. Their goals had been achieved, and she'd be stronger for it the moment they left this frigid, stagnant hall. "As long as you learned something," he merely replied with a smile, dusting off dregs of old mob dust from his armor.

"We're holding our ground and keeping a good pace at the same time," Freyd replied, grateful to Baldur for a moment's respite. "This bear seems to have my number, but as long as I can keep soaking up its damage without other ill effect, that lets the rest of you do what you need." Wulfrin had already charged forward, dutifully resuming his assigned task, and the rest of the team quickly rallied behind. "Looks like the other groups have also recovered. I'm not sure if there's more to this thing or not, or if we're simply meant to endure and wear it down while keeping our fingers crossed

Clashing steel against shadow, Freyd spun and switch wielded Pride for Truth instead, the more tangible blade emerging as if from the former. A swift, unexpected kick to a known weak point in the King's shin guard snapped a brittle bone, made vulnerable by age or frozen in that static state by the ravages of undeath. Either way, the mob's leg snapped, toppling him sideways and right into the arc of Freyd's downward swing. Foot stomping against hard flagstone, itself broken by time and design, Veritas returned to a guarding stance out of habit more than necessity. A skull rattled by, turnin

Mental images of a version of himself jumping through the air, gobbling healing Scooby-snacks out of the air, spread a goofy grin across the Whisper's face. Such absurd moments were always the best. But it was time he properly shattered Bob's ambitions, snatching away any dreams of victory the mob might actually have allowed itself. Sidestepping the latest swing of its massive, rusty axe, Freyd's blade parried and offered a swift counter with an upward strike. Samael's Pride loosed its reigns once more and shrieking filled the stale ruin's air as the black sword carved a swath through the

The King advanced, seemingly convinced that he had Freyd on the ropes and the initiative was his to command. One resounding step after another brought with it the clash of steel on steel as the mob's massive greataxe swung down like a guillotine blade intending to slake its thirst of player blood. A rumbling, raspy cackle wheezed from the villain's undead throat. It hadn't felt this glorious in ages, and reveled in the rare sensations of euphoric vigor, pressing its advantage to the fullest. Freyd, meanwhile, seemed unusually calm, giving ground gradually as he measured his breathing a

"Uh... do you think I have it's attention," Freyd quipped, Callisto having just attempted to gather his spleen without even asking permission. He'd made mobs mad before, but this time was aiming for some sort of unofficial record, and they were barely a quarter of the way through its health bars. "I just keep picturing it rolling around on a unicycle, wearing a pink tu-tu." Twin claws made of pure putrid foulness raked their way across his chest plate in response, apparently unappreciative of his imagination. Freyd found himself wishing he'd brought a dozen of those little pine-scented

"It's alright," he replied. "You kinda get used to ~OOF!" The butt end of the king's axe handle smashed into Freyd's abdomen, lifting him a good two feet off the ground with some appreciably uncomfortable hang time before he stumbled backwards to find the ground with his ass. "Ughhh... I hate it when you do that, Bob." Rolling sideways to avoid the mob's follow-up swing, the Whisper soon regained his footing to the tune of a shrieking banshee as Samael's Pride loosed its wards to unleash the black void within. Swinging low, taking advantage of his own compromised position, Fre

"Sorry Freyd.." All pretense to cloak and dagger solutions fell prey to lethal necessity in an instant. A companion blind and vulnerable, fighting at close quarters with numbers in heavy favour to the enemy, Freyd saw only one remaining option. Dashing forward from their flawed foxhole, a shield grabbed and yanked toppled the first unsuspecting knight over a cliff with a drawn out cry of surprise as his final words. The rest reacted faster, closing ranks, or at least making the attempt. Their tactics were better suited to open ground where a phalanx might find better purchase. Narrow

Like an orchestra tuned and primed, each section delivered its intended part to the benefit of the whole. Zandra was first, her infectious zeal imbuing each of the others' spirits with fire and fury to be unleashed upon their gnashing and decrepit foe. Its decomposing scent? Bearly tolerable. Also fortunately flash frozen by Wulfrin's timely strike, and the wretched hankering to hurl subdued to the point of tolerating an angry algid turd. Mac and Baldur didn't disappoint, each devastating their foe the moment it lay exposed, with Crozeph building up momentum behind them both. All tha

“Callisto was a nymph in Greek mythology, wasn’t she? Transformed into a bear for the transgressions and duplicity of others, as I recall. My parents went on about these things at length,” he added, with a mirthless chuckle. “She was later cast into the sky as the constellation of Ursa Major to prevent her son from hunting her. And all of this occurs just as another Tanabata-like event beings? The coincidence seems unlikely and concerning.” Keeping pace as each group moved forward into position, his muse was racing ahead of his steps. “All of the oddities and mutations I’ve obse

He could see the signs though the welling glaze over her sea-blue eyes, their downturned edges warning of a pending collapse. Keep talking. Don’t let her sink into that darkness. As Elora’s knees wobbled beneath her, his arms were there to cradle and support her. No crashing. Not this time. She was not alone. He knew her. Trial end tribulations, shared, had fostered him out of the denseness of his own dimmed awareness just enough to know one heart in this world: hers. In that moment he finally knew for certain: he would die to protect it. When did that happen? For a