Freyd

Plodding by comparison to his more nimble ally, Freyd strode forward with relentless purpose. Reaching to his side, the black samurai slunk a katana black as an eclipse from its sheath, the blade absorbing all light and casting no shadows upon the ground. Sando was a sitting duck... a sitting reptilian duck... weird... as Samael's Pride snapped its widthless blade across his chest, tearing a vicious streak of orange open on his avatar's mesh. The crowd roared. Some boo-ed, but they had likely cast bets in favour of the wrong side. This moment would teach them better for the future. I

"The man's an arrogant, abusive fop, but I'm not prepared to assign him greater moustache-twirling status than he hasn't properly earned." Freyd had simply opted to hide within the confines of his armor, penning the pseudonym of 'Kuro bara no kishi' - black knight of the rose - based on an emblem he'd manifested on his left pauldron. It seemed poetic enough to entice and satisfy the unsophisticated crowd, aided by an underlayment of accuracy. His rose would understand. No one else need be any the wiser. "Abdullah is manipulative thorn, but tweaking his thorns too readily may not be in

Watching Sam decimate the lingering remnants of the colossal crab's health bar, he grunted with satisfaction before turning his blade to sifting the sands. "This beastie has a tendency to leave bonus minions buried along the beach, as I recall. We should fan out and see if we can't find any. Their drops are well worth the added bit of effort and often better than their boss." Well, potentially. Like any other unidentified object, the virtues of any demonic remained at the mercy of chance and an appraiser's skill. Still winded from his efforts against the crustacious creature, Freyd f

"History buff? Museum? Shouldn't you be carrying a whip and wearing a fedora for that sort of thing?" It was an old reference, but if her claims were legit Bee would know what he was talking about. Persi pounced after a random bit of tumbleweed carried by the wind as they crossed the desiccated town's paltry gates, making their way towards an all-too-familiar destination. Nestled in the crook between two merging sandstone spits, Freyd had come to know the silty basin all too well. Shaped remarkably like an arena surrounded by rough, near-vertical cliff walls, the bowl housed on of the flo

"Katoka was kind enough to give me a few pointers." An explanation regarding his facility with the weapons. "Though I will definitely need some practice to develop an appropriate new style. You know me. The wheels are always turning." Tapping his left temple for effect, Freyd offered his protogé a mild smirk. Plans within plans within plans. Freyd was always layers deep in the chess game of their existence - far deeper than most would ever possibly understand. "She's another one who's come a long way. There are so many. It's...gratifying. And, don't feel bad for others making the

Barely a hint of a grin on his face before he drove himself through the ramshackle wall, reminded of Circe's debt, his focus was immediately elsewhere. Flying knives and whirling blades around him either meant the others had chosen to aid him, or all had exceptionally bad aim. Dissipating mobs soon confirmed it to be the former, to his relief. The intel he was after was too sensitive to risk waiting for reinforcements, and he'd taken a chance diving in with hostiles before him and unknowns to the rear. All three were passing acquaintances, at best, but only mildly better than total strange

Preferring a guaranteed hit over power, it was all the situation required. The rest of the party had already flensed the thing to bitses, every part handing on by a virtual thread. Har har. Swapping weapons as he moved, Freyd whirled and went for an unexpected weak spot: the pinky claw on its left leg - not back one, not the front leg it could also use as an arm, because dragons were weird. Centaurs never had this problem, being considerate enough to bring an extra, proper set of arms and keep their legs as legs. Where was he? Oh. Right. Dragon. He must have hit the giga-gecko, be

Drawing the blade fully, aware of his companion's professional interest, it only seemed courteous to indulge him. Resting its black blade against a matte charcoal vambrace, the blade hovered fractions of an inch above the actual material, as if the two refused each other contact and coexistence. Yet another way in which Freyd bore our the paradox theme of his existence. "I can't claim to have any skill at the forge or to put in the effort in the same way as those who toil at other crafts. Appraisers' arts are more akin to magic, in a way, trading in secrets and properties bound by o

"Welcome to the world of grey shades, my friend. Truth is the Thing Behind All Lies - a phrase enshrined in the branding of a weapon I no longer wield." Slipping his new blade from its sheath revealed a katana of black steel sharp and as yet unused. Virgin, so to speak, and appropriately so. "Veritas. Quite the contrast." He neglected to point out the paradox called out by his armor's moniker, trusting to Wulfrin's curiosity. Flinching slightly at the compliment paid, Freyd was unaccustomed to receiving praise, and generally thought himself to be undeserving. Tough choices require

Helping Elora spread out the blanket and setting a few small stones at the corners to keep it weighed down, he was acting more on habit than necessity. Their clearing was relatively sheltered by the surrounding ruins and stone outcroppings, along with the lichen and intertwined branches that kept people from finding this place too easily. Was it even findable without having picked up the quest, he wondered. Aincrad had many layered secrets that required the right code or circumstance to crack, sometimes including pure, unadulterated, dumb luck - of either variety. "Fishing? Meh. The

A pun? That was supposed to be some sort of proof? Freyd didn't much appreciate the casual dismissal to such a potential threat, but he also wasn't going to turn away a possible ally. It was his nature to assess and mitigate threats. He didn't know Pinball, or whether he ought to be treated as one, but Mari had changed his perspective on such marked players long ago. Ever the pragmatist, he'd accept anyone in a group, provided they worked towards the common goal. As the others piled on against the overgrown shadow gecko, he hung back, waiting for an opening to grab aggro. Pin's sur

Slipping past the giant beast after his first, devastating strike, Freyd dug in his hand and steered his slide into the nearest part of the thing's shadow. Recycling the momentum already built, he slingshot himself through the void, reappearing behind Celeste and slapping her on the ass in passing. Riling her up always seemed to improve her performance. Twin beady eyes on the mob's colossal head still stretched towards its far side, searching for what collided against it from the near. Shell fractured, several spiky legs buckling under impact and upturning the monstrosity to leave it teet

"Nah. I wouldn't worry too much about that. The book is always there as a trigger for the quest, serving as a portal key that brings you to this particular instance. When the monkeys overpopulate, they just seem to eek out and cause trouble. As much as I think we'd all like to manufacture her potion, and spare everyone this unpleasantness, this is likely the only viable option." Examining the frame in greater detail, the Whisper muttered something to himself about a certain familiarity. "This looks like the elvish script they use in Kalanaes, or more specifically the older dialect use

A half twist at the unfamiliar voice, his blade would have been full out if there'd been more threat in the words, and less unexpected curiosity. "What the hell are you three doing here? Not the crowd I would have expect-" Wailing anguish of a kind brought about by the direst of tragedies split the dimming evening light. Shades of pinks and purples piled on long shadows that grew darker at the terror behind it, along with several disconcerting and sickening cackles. It was enough to pull the black blade to fruition. "Yeah," he resumed, replying to Bahr's nod. "I'm definitel

Freyd listened to those gathered offer insights. Just as in Firm Anima, all voices here were equal. His role here was purely as facilitator and one of several witnesses. "Owib’je’s abilities were similar to Wushen’s, from the last raid, in that their interactions were many and complex. Traits normally voided by immunity became clutch, albeit discreetly. Don’t underestimate the values of debuffs and like secondary effects. We’ve seen stuns and paralyze working in recent raids, even locksmithing proved its worth against Gabrandr's scathers. Our strengths are varied, and we’ll need the

Tension bled from Freyd's features as Wulfrin poured forth his vision and conviction. Years of wear lightened as the load on his shoulder lifted at hearing another answer the call. Wulfrin was a good man, and ready to take on the mantle he'd stumbled into assuming; one no longer suited to ambitions faded with time. Unaccustomed to even thinking of such things, Freyd felt old, yet rejuvenated in the same breath. "All of those are noble ambitions, my friend." A hand on his fellow's should signified the magnitude of the sentiment. Freyd wasn't the touchy feely type. He could have warne

"Err... yes?" Scratching at the back of his head, hesitantly, Freyd had been eager to join her on an outing, but wasn't quite sure how she was taking the suggestion that they'd run her through the Scents of the Wild quest series. As much as she would benefit from unlocking its totems, he was pretty sure he'd sold her at 'lunch.' In her typical, lovable manner, Elora hadn't blinked an eye at the fact that he was stomping around in clunky new armor. So far as he could tell, she ignored it on the basis that it was still black, and he always wore black. Does Batman have this problem, he

"Oh, good," Freyd grin, sensing opportunity in the vile gelatin's division. Strike at nothing, but directly between the two newly hatched halves, the Whisper wrenched his wrist like he was unlocking the back door to the universe. Not far off point, a screeching wail flooded the dungeon as a pinprick hole manifest in the space occupied by his fist: Samael's Pride the gateway to oblivion somehow loosing its seals. Slime kings collided with a sickening squelch, like eggs splattered against a sidewalk, then battered against each other by dueling cosmic leaf blowers. One was pulverized insta

"It almost seems tragic, doesn't it?" Even with an army of avian-simian-doohickeys outside, this particular quest mob never put up much of a fight. "Honestly, I'd leave her completely alone if the monkey's didn't periodically spawn out of control and start shitting all over the guild hall lawn and stealing roof ornaments. And if Rai hasn't managed to duplicate her special brew after all this time, then it probably can't be done." Rifling through the lair's reams of useless kitchenware and miscellaneous sundries, he arrived at the same conclusion. Still nothing. A sideways glance spared f

A wry grin several layers deep greeted the strange woman's comments. It bothered him that he knew who she was and what she meant. He shouldn't. It wasn't real. She and her story were merely part of some fever dream that had been haunting him since the last raid. 'Freyd' looked down at his shadow, it's form broadened at the shoulders and donning a wide cape and cowl, the silhouette of wings cast behind it. Cichol. It was a name and vision he shouldn't know, nor remember. Patting his midsection, the one called 'Whisper' remembered the anguish of fragmented identity the only Montjoy and Ni

Thing's weren't quite spiralling, but there was a definite circular pattern in the layered waves of slime around the room with which he was uncomfortable. Getting flushed was not an option, not that he expected it with this caliber of companions, but the slime hoard were as valid a slog as he'd encountered outside of any raid. While the others regrouped, Freyd thought it best to see if he could re-level the keen by doing exactly what everyone was expecting. That shouldn't be hard, right? "Thank goodness for you, Wulfrin. Nice timing on that stun!" Freyd's initial flurry struggled a

With the giga-Chad gecko found, Freyd sauntered over to a suspiciously familiar-looking Lotus, preferring to help the old man out than compete with him. Patting the old fisher on the back, Freyd pulled out his replica rod, its green mallard head looking perfectly at home in the 1950s. "It reminds me of the one my grandad used, okay?" Deflecting the odd and incredulous looks, he baited his hook, offering Lotus an equal share and casting out his line. "Come join us, Wulfrin. I know you've got the skill." Thanking Ciela for the snacks, he snarfed down one of the honeybuns like he'd bee

A whorl of shadow opened like a gaping maw into nothingness, darkness stepping out of the hole to flatten itself out on the sands and resume its more common complacent role. The herald, Montjoy, had played his part; to guide his counterpart between worlds and the void between. Freyd emerged next, unfurled as the portal collapsed behind him, restoring shape to something that moments ago had been little more than the shade it now cast upon the ground. Girded in heavy plate that roiled like it was slick with the intangible soulstuff of oblivion, only a certain telltale cowl would confirm f

Freyd smiled, listening to Wulfin work it out for himself. That was the ultimate point. He had to choose what he believed and who he wanted to be within those sets of beliefs. It was all anyone in here could aspire to. "We don't know anything beyond ourselves in here, so why bother stressing over the unknown. Either the world outside will help us, or it won't, or can't. Nothing we do will change that. So, let's focus on what falls within our purview." Grinning solemnly, Wulfrin's observations were keen. "Yes. I think it's fair to say that there's some torch passing happening h

The Galtean Refugee Zone hadn't changed much since the abrupt end of Emperor Razwell's iron fisted reign, and what little movement had occurred was largely for the worst. Local residents had long been left to the mercy of gangs and other ruthlessly self-serving bodies, many verging beyond the predatory to the depraved. Desperation had that effect on people, and its soured scent attracted those most likely to feast upon misery. Agents had been watching a particular ramshackle building at the western edges of the zone for weeks. To call it a structure was a severe disservice to the least of