Foyle

Following Wulfrin's instructions, Foyle speared the overgrown, flaming cockatoo seconds after it was stunned and before its feathers had even hit the ground. he even sacrificed his own footing to ensure a suitable blow was dealt as early as possible, fumbling and tumbling to keep from snapping his bow in half by accidentally bowling it over. Instead, the aged, white-haired scout stretched out into a lateral roll, thankful not to have accidentally speared himself on any wayward shards of protruding obsidian. "Did I hit it?" Face and body covered in Stay-puff worthy levels of soot and as

"A fine plan, Master Wulfrin." No sooner had the swordsman's shatter taken effect than Foyle loosed another arrow towards their foe. But where the first had taken advantage of the demon's dazed state, it had already recovered and interposed its own unnaturally solid arms to block his shot. "Jeeves! It's getting up. Quick, see if you can't finish it off. I don't like the idea of what those blades could do if its bears them down on our tank." Rolling left to flank the boss, in case another shot were somehow required, Foyle cursed his poor fortune while pushing the outcome into the

"Oh, yes, erm..." "Wulfrin," Freyd chimed in, filling in the awkwardly obvious fumble. "I know," Foyle retorted, albeit free of harshness. "I was just trying to recall when we'd last met. It was the mountaintop near Urbus, along with that other fellow. The martial arts training mission." Eyes scanning Wulfrin's paradoxically imbued blade, he stared at its wondrously. "Amazing, isn't it? What this world renders possible? Hmmmf. Makes me wonder what I might do with this trifling trinket, when the time comes." Icingdeath led the charge and to excellent effect, breaking the

"Our friend is correct," Foyle added, their elder pointing out several symbols woven into the mandala towards which they were being ushered. "Ren and I saw these markings in Lichten, and drew some unwelcome attention while doing so. I had to usher our academic companion towards safer quarters before the knives came out." Grunting gruffly at the memory, the scout warily scrutinized the dancers still gyrating all about them before drawing and nocking his bow. "I'd wager on a fight waiting for us on the other side." Their masked hostess gave nothing away, favouring the less engaging deme

ph *** Event Quest: Foyle assembles a Veena from strings collected here: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/41439-ev-pp-27-making-the-rounds-for-ronbaru/?do=findComment&comment=691060 [Waiting on updated gear to post stats]

Finding some of the event crates scattered near the edge of the square, Foyle set them right before adding his own modest contribution to the pile. Not dramatically substantial, he was still proud to have contributed in some way. Grabbing a nearby broom he set to sweeping up the floral deluge, righting the mess his friends had setup, more out of habit than any sense of guilt. It was his nature to do so. "Freyd. Ren. Let's give them a hand, yes?" Nothing more was said as the others collected tools and crates of their own, setting to work beside him. If they were contributors to the c

Wary by virtue of the proxy vibe emanating from his captain, Foyle's nature kept him close and alert. Ordsea seemed the more urban of the regions they had visited, and he had long been one to prefer the wilds. Time with Sewallus and his kin might have reinforced that particular bias, if unintentionally. Seeing to the cargo, and ensuring that proper payment was made, Foyle spared himself a moment to collect a small sample of local offerings and return to share them with the others. Each was appreciative, not having expected the kind gesture. Ren, especially, seemed touched. "It was al

"I swear that they're not even trying anymore." Three marks floundered and fell a hundred yards out, Foyle's weapon relentlessly pummeling before they could even begin their advance. The last of the latest ragtag mobs standing between them and their final destination would be mowed down by Freyd and Ren within moments. Jeeves was still napping in the back of the wagon, wrapped around a bag of flour like some sort of adorable kitten. The others hadn't had the heart to wake him for what turned out to be a near-instant rout of their latest laughable opposition. "I almost feel bad. Almos

"Seriously?!" Foyle's beard was so caked with snow and ice that he looked like the secret bastard child of Avalanche and Santa Claus. Cheers erupted from the nearby bonfire as the first crate was opened and fluffy white sugar puffs were violently speared before being roasted to charred perfection over open flame. "You know... it might actually make more sense than I first appreciated." Grabbing another load from the wagon, the scout made his way over with his offering, greeted like some hero returned from myth and legend. They soon had him in various forms of headlocks, jeering an

A swift kick to the nearer target's head sent it spinning sideways, only to end up with a shot in its ear an instant later. "Some sort of escalating difficulty, I imagine?" Ren seemed to think so, likely being the most avid gamer of the group. "Sounds like event logic to me. Let's just hope we reach Ordsea before they break out the atomics." "I don't know," Freyd added with a scheming tone. "Might be fun to get our hands on to be used in the next raid fight." "Just keep the blast 'raid'-ius in mine, Jeeves chimed in," the pun oozing with self-evidence. "Yeah

"Ren. Do you think we should stock up for the guild while we're here? You and others would surely benefit if we resupply our stocks. Most of these ingot are fairly mundane compared to some of the metals I've seen Griswold and others use, but..." "You've actually spoken to Griswold?! All he ever does is glare at me, like he's peering into my soul in search of worth and coming up empty. It's intimidating as hell." Mere mention of the senior smith's name had been enough to settle his companion. "He's actually quite genial. Maybe it's an age thing? The two of us get along quite w

"That was a decent thing you just did," Foyle offered, once again surprised by Freyd's uncharacteristic consideration towards NPCs. "Thank you for thinking of these people." "That's just it, isn't it? People. I'd rather treat them as if they are, at least the ones who act like it. Too many are no better than the worst among us. You'll find me far less willing to offer them mercy or consideration." Grabbing crates from the rear of the wagon, Freyd busied himself with the voluntary distraction. Foyle soon joined, glad to have a digital back that wouldn't require a dozen heating pads

Death-tipped shafts with falcon fletching zipped by Freyd's shoulder, most finding perch in centre mass. Three of the advancing mobs disintegrated in an instant, their motes sprayed like shiny fertilizer on the crops beneath their feet - possibly cabbage. It was too soon to notice, and standard veggies might not be on Dagan's menu given the unusual growing conditions. A muttered curse under breath, Foyle called out a warning, but his captain was ready. Despite his self-critique, Foyle had come a long way since their previous outings. Learning his martial trade at the hands of Ellesmer

"Much of this floor is mountainous. Dagan, particularly, is prone to long shadows and ever-present night. You should feel right at home, Freyd." The captain offered a wry grin, partly just admiring Foyle's increasing openness, as demonstrated by the rise of sarcastic jabs over his usual formality. He seemed to think it suited him. "I can't say I understand how crops grow without light, or how crystals somehow do the trick. Sounds like magic, or a one-way trip to your oncologist's office to me." Bending low to inspect the condition of the axles on the merchant's wagons gave him an ai

"Are you sure there isn't a mahjong table nearby?" A simple, wistful smile graced the old man's face when invited to partake. The game was a trifling too simple for his tastes, but reminded him of his granddaughter. That may have been the problem. How long had it been since the two of them had last chosen to play a game together. A simple game. She'd laughed with glee while placing the helmet on his head, giggling madly. He'd just let her do it, wondering what he was getting himself into. But it didn't matter. She was happy, and that was all that mattered. Tears inexplicably poole

Skill(s) Being Dropped: Curved Sword Weapon Skill R1 Mod(s)/Addon(s)/Shift(s) Being Dropped: None SP Incurred Towards Limit: 4/50 SP Refunded: 4 Cost: 4,000 col

"We're fine, I think?" Mad cackling laughter made Jeeves sound a tad unhinged, but also implied that he was no worse for wear. "Yeah. He sounds like his usual self, though maybe a tad more on the giddy side than we're all used to seeing." "You good there, goggles?" Freyd's epiphet was intentional, avoiding any mention of 'kid' or other similar nickname he knew got under Jeeves' skin. Foyle had already picked up on the undertone, but wasn't much the type for informal references. "What happened back there, captain? One second the mob was on top of us, and the next you'd obliterat

Spinning in search of shelter the moment the impact occurred, Foyle's instincts had triggered for self-preservation, but too quickly to grab the boy and protect him. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Both hands occupied with his weapon, he was somewhat amazed that he'd managed not to let loose a stray shot that might have ended up in a friend's gut. A blast of FTK-based pixel dust exploded, scattering the mob to every corner of the room, save those shards close enough to be scooped by the Samael's Pride's gaping, abyssal maw. He'd come to recognize the shrieking wail of its hunger unleashe

No sooner had Ren delivered a second impressive strike and an equally enhanced shot rang out as Foyle's shot struck the mob directly in the eye - precisely as he'd intended. A satisfied smirk adorned his face, partially concealed beneath the white of his beard, yet visibly hanging around the creases at the corners of his eyes. Already drawing for another shot, Foyle was finding the necessary rhythm he'd need for sustained combat. Pluck, nock, pull, aim. Friendly fire was too real a possibility, so he'd only loose the moment he was assured no ally might be struck by his missile. "He's

Drawing and aiming, as he'd been taught by the elven archery masters of Ellesmora, Foyle hold and controlled his breathing. The rest of the world fell aside as his sword art harnessed power to the tune of his granddaughter's lilting laughter. A twitch of his cheek infected the shot with a charge of carefully suppressed controlled emotion. Ren's cry called and he released. The shaft blew across the chamber in an instant, striking the mark in its left shoulder. He'd been aiming for centre mass, but it was still a miss, and the first time Foyle had felt good about any aspect of this game's c

"Reporting in, Sir." Foyle's traditionalist mien was getting the better of him again, right down to the curt military bow, like one might offer a superior officer. Freyd was constantly tempted to push back against it, but worried he would offend his elder's fragile sensibilities. Better to just let him have this, especially if it made it easier to forge the digital worldview he'd desperately need to survive in Aincrad. Properly armed and armored, this time around, Foyle felt far better prepared to face any foe they might encounter. The others could tell he had no idea what they were a

Even the ever-stoic Foyle couldn't keep a grin from his face at Kingley's urging, opening the twin tabs holding shut the rusted metal coffer he'd drudged up amidst Larkin's junk. "Hah! This stuff might do nicely after all." Though he struggled to determine the precise properties of each item, it seemed like a potentially valuable array of goods. Expecting to have to gather each item in turn, the old man reached for them as Nymoria had taught, only to discover that the whole lot had been transferred to his inventory. It took him another minute to figure out what that meant, and where to

A clock? A lefthand bracer with a bite taken out of it, in the pattern of human teeth? A jar filled with coloured glass from other broken jars? "How did Lyle even catch this stuff? I'm not even going near where any of it came from." Rummaging through the drowned garage sale of derelict doo-dads, Foyle was unconsciously sorting everything he found into 'useless' and 'possibly useful' piles, in a manner that previously drove his wife nuts. As the local building super, he'd often had to make due with whatever was on hand, and had a whole storage room full of cast-offs hoarded in cas

"Hah!" Foyle cheered at Hanzoku's master stroke, sheer brutality aside it was an innovative solution. "If messy works and keeps you alive, then that's just what it takes." Patting him on the back as encouragement, the older man seemed to have found his stride, reservations and hesitation bleeding into the background as he led them back toward Lyle's shop with nonchalant ease. Nymoria's sudden invitation, likewise barely startled him and was accepted without hesitation. Since the menu was already open, he took a moment to extend the same courtesy to Kingley and Hanzoku as well. Their

"Those sound like valuable tools. Freyd's also already offered to take several others and I to face to sort of giant angry ape. Something about shattering, but I wasn't quite sure what he meant. I look forward to putting both to good use, once I find my proper bearings. Thank you again, Master Wulfrin, and please forgive the epithet, this one time. It seems appropriate to the moment." Placing his fist into the opposing open palm, Foyle offered his tutor a sincere bow to demonstrate his gratitude. "This must mean it's time for me to set about getting myself some proper equipment. As