Oz

As he'd suspected, all he needed was a bit of practice to learn how the system intended to guide him. He cast his line out a few more times, each attempt a tad better than the last, until he hit his eureka moment. He flicked the stick, and the system carried his line out an absurd distance, plopping into the tepid waves like a professional diver landing a perfect 10. Almost immediately, there was a stiff tug on the line, Oz's entire body lurching forward as though carried off his feet. "Woah, Nelly!" He dug his heels into the sand to prevent himself from sliding into the water, his t

As Oz reached the water's edge, it occurred to him that Dickballer McGill had neglected to provide him with a fishing pole. Some instructor... The verdant-clad goober took a brief gander around, looking for anything he could conceivably use as a substitute for a true-blue fishing pole. As luck would have it, there was indeed a discarded fishing line (which he only found once the attached hook had imbedded itself within the sole of his boot), and a sturdy-ish stick on the beach which he could tie it off to. He affixed some of the (absolutely rank smelling) bait to the hook and cast the lin

All of the low-level quests were a little hokey, but this one definitely took the cake. Oz was expected to meet up with the himbo fisherman of Aincrad's first floor and get a lesson or two in fishing. If the intel he'd gathered were any indicator, the "lesson" may as well have boiled down to, "Where's some bait, figure it out asshole!" Though, such was the case with much of this game. Usually, the system would guide his hand somewhat, and he hoped this would be another such instance. Speak of the devil, here he came now. "Anthony Gill, at your service," Captain Himbo said with a bow.

Oz's glossy gaze remained transfixed on Kyra as she recited her almost certainly canned response to his fabricated disclosure. He'd seen a glimmer of recognition in her eye once he'd mentioned Chunk's name, hastily concealed has she went on to go through the motions of explaining how this was natural, and common, and difficult, etc. Yuck. It seemed she could be just as disingenuous as he, when it came time to play ball. Oz could hardly believe people actually paid for this sort of shit. They would have been better off putting their coin into a warm body in bed beside them, or a decent pack of

Buying the following item: T1 Immolation Potion [300 col] Total: 300 col

Mired in the smog exuded from his tea leaf cigarette, Oz poured over the vestigial remnants of a report cobbled together by one of his now-passed informants. Or, at least, if she wasn't dead yet, she surely would be soon. It had been a shame to see Conciliator go, but she had understood the danger of her assignment. The further the days, weeks, and years stretched into their stint in Aincrad, the more such incidents seemed like a foregone conclusion. The animals on the Frontlines could somehow bear the brunt of this world's deranged flavor of cruelty, the hourglasses representing their lifespa

It never ceased to amaze Oz how expedient a fully-leveled crafter could be. He'd no sooner stepped out the door after placing his commission than he'd received a message detailing the completion of his request. Perplexed, he turned around and re-entered the establishment with measured apprehension. Inside, there was still nothing humanoid to be found. However, the cat had decided to take a nap - seemingly clutching the very item he sought. He tiptoed to the other side of the room, paying care to avoid the plants which dotted the path, and gently finessed the craft from between the kitten'

"Why in the hell'd he name it a 'hot dog stand' if it isn't a stand?" Today's venture through the Town of Beginnings was just full of surprises. His first visit to a dim, abandoned wing of town had turned up new shops in previously vacant buildings. Seemed this even seedier section of town also bore new shopfronts, though seemingly more ridiculous in stature. A hot dog stand that isn't a stand? The 'Crusty Bahrnacle?' Who was naming these joints? Regardless the ridiculous naming conventions, it seemed these shops were the real deal. Any crafters who could acquire maximum level in the

"Evenin' Star, huh?" Oz could have sworn this were a different sort of joint, once upon a time. A shuttered place which housed squatters and cretinous criminals alike. Now its lights were illuminated once more, and the dim interior which was once visible through its windows was now obscured by thick layers of healthy vegetation. Someone had moved in. While it annoyed Oz that he wouldn't get what he'd actually come for, it couldn't be a horrible idea to venture inside and soak in the new digs. Upon stepping through the threshold of the front door, he felt slightly amused by how the be

Stats. Level: 25 HP: 515 EN: 68 DMG: 4 ACC: 1 EVA: 4 LD: 9 Vampiric Offensive 2 Vampiric Defensive 2 Paralytic Venom 2 Holy Blessing: 20 Stealth Detection: 7 Guild Buffs. Lucrative. Reduce LD needed for Salvage rolls by 5 +2 Alchemist crafting EXP per crafting attempt +1 crafting attempt per day at Rank 9 +2 crafting attempts per day at Rank 10 Col Deposit. +5% bonus col from mob loot +10% bonus col from treasure chests Housing Buffs. Well Rested.

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"Don't be fooled - I was raised in hell." "Or maybe, I raised hell itself." ♦ Oz "All it takes is a spark to ignite my bad intentions." NAME: Bellamy Tressler GENDER: Male AGE: Thirty-ish HEIGHT: 6 foot WEIGHT: Lol BIRTHDAY: March 8th BACKGROUND Look at you, snooping. Figures you'd come to an info broker's profile for details. You thi