Freyd

"None, really," the answer genuine and forthright, yet underpinned with a strange and uncharacteristically gleeful optimism. Freyd actually sounded excited about the prospect of learning about this thing in a way she'd hardly ever seen in him. The wonder in his eyes was nearly child-like, innocent and hopeful, devoid of fear or doubts of any kind. The contrast to his earlier mood at the raid's aftermath was especially striking. Attuned to her as he was, Freyd sensed the shift in Elora's breathing, the relaxation of tense muscles. What must that have taken inside her mind? Calm draw

"You'd think I'd have spent more time here, given the ambiance." Speaking to no one in particular, Freyd stood in the central plaza of Yomi, scouring its eerie haunted streets with a determined blue-eyed gaze. Something had been nattering at the back of his mind ever since the frontlines battered their way into Ilridge upon accessing twenty nine. Something about that place had felt familiar, though he hadn't quite managed to place it until this morning. Staring at the idle bowl of ether from which Persi had once fed, he hadn't yet brought himself to the point where he could toss the linger

"How do we know that's really what it looks like??" He flinched at that one, the barb sinking deeper than she intended, in a place she hadn't meant to strike. "What if it goes back into the walls -- we don't know where it will go next --!" Snaring an open mid-sized jug and a wholly inexplicable plunger from amidst the refuse, Freyd stuffed the wee beastie though its funnel-shaped opening and plumbed it inside. A quick pop and corkscrew cap sealed it in, promptly reinforced with a convenient clamp top. Stuff too tightly to move, all the mini-mimic could do was slowly squirm and

Taint from his last encounter with the darkened crystal still stained his essence, like that damnably indelible spot from a certain Scottish play, and oft fortuning the same sort of doom. He'd learned to use it to great effect, but contact with Shadow's Malevolent blight through Orgoth's veins had forged an umbral tether that resonated to his core. Staring into the empty black orbs of the amber stranger's mask, Freyd saw only the familiar reflected in their voids. A garbled welcome sent hairs on the back of his neck to pinpricks sharp enough to stab with. That voice... like the screechi

Still struggling to catch his own elusive breath, Freyd was only half-aware of Elora's miscellaneous plights. One never seemed to suffice. Instinct warned him that her weapon was in play, she having nearly skewered him more than once with some variation of sharp stick during their adventures. Partners develop a certain innate danger sense for such things, apparently. Somehow, amidst all the unravelling chaos, he managed to catch a better glimpse of the thing as it poured itself from steel casing into occupied elven-shaped leathers. "It's a mimic! I fought one ages ago with Freya, I thin

Freyd listened silently, recalling an eerily similar and recent conversation with another player. He'd found her name on the Monument of Life a week later; killed by a random bandit. Raging at the injustice of it had tested his convictions, but ultimately led him to the same conclusions, and a sigh. "I have grown numb, but am thankfully also aware enough to realize that it's happened. That let me work against it." Gently steering their ride towards a ramshackle stables, Freyd turned to look upon their sleeping wards when they came to a stop. "Aincrad and Cardinal test us by forci

Flailing and failing to find purchase against his nemesis face-sucker, Freyd spun sideways and smashed his face into the nearest solid surface he could feel in a vain effort to get the bloody thing off. It didn't work, triggering instead the avalanche whose initial seismic precepts Elora had already elaborately queued. At least he'd found the chest piece of some gaudily ornate suite of plate mail, and not accidentally mashes himself up again an axe, resplendently pointy morningstar, or a piece with more thorns enhancements than an infernal briar bush. Gong resounding loudly, if also somewha

"Well, to be fair," he began, grateful for her tender touch, yet also impressed by the sheer wall of gathered goods arrayed against them, "my shop actually used to be my backyard, and surrounded by a zombie-infested wilderness. It didn't feel right leaving all of this stuff stacked out in the open in Urbus, when I relocated. And you wouldn't want to see everything else I already keep in my inventory." Sheepishly scratching at his own bearded grimace, Freyd hesitated momentarily. "I might also have stirred the old Angel's Point mess on purpose, occasionally, just to drive Quip crazy an

That she didn't simply dismiss his philosophical musings spoke volumes, but she'd already proven the sharpness of her wit and mind by their interactions to date. Few rose so quickly in the Whisper's esteem. Even the formal tone by which she transacted with this world had loosened, likely the result of peril shared. Life did that when it rattled you and another in the same cage. If there was common ground between all Aincrad's players, that was most likely the vector to find it. Some, sadly, would simply never bother listening. "This place reminds me of a sociology experiment I heard

As Kandy charged, forcing the sand shark to veer wide to avoid her spear, Eulogy and Sable both found purchase and pride as they plunged their weapons into the beast's thick hide. Blood spurted across the sands as Terra Firma frenzied, its giant gnashing maw chomping its way into overdrive in a most terrifying way. His last blow had hurt it, but also left him exposed. Freyd knew the drill, and how much the system loved as temptingly vulnerable target. That was the whole point. Thrashing wildly as its slapped away the other players with sheer bulk, the mutant sand shark flailed itself

"Yue Hua?" He seemed surprised and caught slightly off guard by the drastic change in her appearance. "I suppose this explains some of your distaste for the desert, but also much more common ground with Xena than I might have previously thought." She might have thought him just as much in costume by the beard and added bleaching of his nominally unruly mop, the black having been inexplicably drained to white by Callisto's near-fatal blow. "D&D, you say?" Brow furrowed yet buoyed by a broadening smile as he picked up his preferred molds of prismatic forms for inspection. "I haven't

...killed by Faultwarren bandit Ghostly embers of two other names hovered over the same spot on the hated monument: Wulfrin's and his own. Both had nearly adorned its blasphemously pristine white surface. Both were saved by inexplicable quirks of fate. Now one named after a goddess of the same vein found herself affixed in their stead. 'It should have been me....' Wulfrin's words, muttered near silence in the raid's aftermath had not and could never be forgotten. But, where his friend had made an error, Freyd had made a choice - one he should not have survived. He'd come to the

Preoccupied by the fog of war waging its way through the backalleys of his own mind, Freyd was moving on instinct, following steps retraced a thousand times over through the thinning crowds and familiar streets of the Town of Beginnings. He'd been to the Hummingbard more times than he could count, knew the way like the back of his hand, even having tried it in his sleep once or twice, though that was more often on the return trip after his business had been concluded. Thus it was, with great surprise, that he found himself standing in some place utterly and complete not where he expected to

Sheer determination drove him, tempered by care that no action might further endanger the poor souls within, Player and NPCs alike. Lines and distinctions faded daily, wrapping around each other like the din of steel on stone to create the background fleshing out the meat of their digital existence. Ever since the first clues and evidence found of the accursed Sundered Spire, a noobish, fledgling Freyd had struggled to think of mobs as naught but disposable things. Especially if they could remember their treatment at players' hands. Some had. Some did. Ferocious conviction in that belief

A wry smile was Xena's only reward, this particular case of cat and mongoose having played out over several recent escapades. Too many raids had gone horribly lethally wrong to be spreading that kind of information around freely. If she kept pressing, he'd have to make up some intricate lie for her to feast upon, enough to sate the woman's relentless curiosity. From Pollux's comments, he managed to discern her trade as an alchemist, making mental note to add her to the list when his potion and crystal stock ran low. Finding a reliable source could prove difficult, especially in the rus

"Sticking to the shadow, eh? Good. That might actually make it easier to spot." Whoever or whatever this thing was had chosen to conceal itself in that which was brightest and most vivid in his sights, save a certain green beacon whose guiding light had always steered him right. But she was already visible, having laid herself bare, in heart and soul, beyond anything he might ever have hoped. Even as Elora followed him into the quaint and cozy depths of their handcrafted home, Freyd scoured every nook, cranny, crack, crevice and hole that might somehow conceal an intruder. Plumbing the v

"Am I okay? What the fuck was that thing!?" All things considered, he thought it quite reasonable a question, even if his eyes had widened more than he'd meant and voice cracked awkwardly in the process. Elora was worried about ghosts and ghouls of a brand you might find in advertisements for children's breakfast cereal, but he'd encountered far worse in this world. Freyd's version of Aincrad carried perils the likes of which would terrify most players by their horrific natures and motives alike. Having just come from a newly unlocked floor entirely overcome by nightmares wasn't exactly h

"Up until Mina addressed you, I thought you were just a manifestation of the custom skill. My own shadow has been strangely silent after the raid." Unphased by the comment, any response of speculation remained locked tight behind an inscrutable facade. Not because it wasn't a fair point. Freyd was just too uncertain about his own fate to offer any real insights, and that was gnawing at him. Whispers like secrets. They also dislike when secrets about themselves are kept from them. Wincing at Mina's kind words for Persi, he still hadn't come to terms with the loss. Pursing his lips, a

Freyd glanced over his shoulder to check on their passengers. Between the heat, gentle rhythmic motion of the wagon, or the trauma of their recent ordeals, all had been overwhelmed and passed out. Tugging lightly on the reigns to keep their reptilian locomotives from driving off a cliff, he chuckled as she wondered what they were. "I dunno... mega-geckos? It has a certain ring, and they seem genuinely harmless. The name might stick," he added with a laugh. that dimmed into a more pensive smile as she revealed her concerns. Fortunately, the blazing sun above was already in it

Admirable courage, and smart. She hid it well, but anyone would have had at least a moment's hesitation before entering. Anyone who didn't wasn't suited tot he task. Morrigan was truly starting to impress him, and in a way not frequently encountered. The administrative angel on his shoulder was already hinting at potential for recruitment to Firm Anima. A compelling suggestion, but hardly the time to enact it. Ah…would it be wise to clear from the inside? Considering the instability out here, it’s plausible that we may room some of the main supports that are holding this up as it is…

Freyd remained silent as she posed her questions about Cassim's potential fate, helping the man up into the wagon along with the others. If anything, he seemed to be assessing her reactions, the dance of her eyes on the others as they ambled across the courtyard with difficulty. Imagination alone couldn't fill all gaps with how her existence here in Aincrad compared to what she'd lived beyond it. Hope offering some reprieve from those difficulties. "If anything happens, keep your heads down and stay in here," he offered as reassurance to their wards. "It will be the safest place for y

Genuinely surprised by her clever suggestion to use her familiar in such a manner, he'd never encountered one that could be relied upon to communicate in any detail. "Impressive," he added, brow already caked with an encrusted mixture of sweat and stone dust, eyes assessing the avian as he readied to bark orders to his assistants. "Is it a scouting familiar, by any chance? That degree of intel gathering is better than I've seen from any other." A small shower of rocks broke loose from the cliff face, Freyd tossing aside one of the NPCs on impulse to take the blow against his armored hi

Demonic dust bunnies? It felt like much was left to unpack there, but he abandoned the thought just to try and keep up. "Why wouldn't we use our names?! I thought Fae were more of a floor three thing? Is the floor above us leaking faerie mojo?!" Where is this all going? "And which names? Am I supposed to start calling you pooky or something?" Part of him, hidden behind his chuckles, couldn't help wonder whether this was some elaborate Irish ruse designed to foster the creation of affectionate nicknames. As much as Elora carried an air of innocence about her, they'd come

Flashes from behind caused him to whirl and face the newcomers, worried that the wrong sort would already have gotten word and chosen daring over prudence. Right hand outstretched before him, the Whisper strode forth calmly to intercept, his other hand already tightly grasped around the hilt of his blade, concealed by a half-turned torso and carefully chosen posture. Eyes darting between swirling icons over the new arrivals' heads, he spoke quietly and steadily as he advanced to corral them near the archway. "A word of caution. The arch is unsecured and this area unsafe. Unless you've

The thought of barbecue-chicken flavoured coffee did not appeal, Sussing out little more than a grimace and a chuckle, he assuming that was her objective. Preferring not to push the matter of her heritage, he’d respect her privacy and leave it to fall from presence of mind. Instead, the not-captain found his head tilting in a beagle-like manner as she caught herself mid-habit, looking like a nun who’d just realized she’d forgotten her rosary at prayer. "Keep at it." A patient and encouraging reply. Lifetimes of indoctrination would hardly be overcome overnight, his smile growing as