broodboy

Bastion followed the group into the clearing, his steps deliberate and quiet. The faint gurgle of the river and the rustling of leaves lent the area an almost serene atmosphere, though he never let his guard down. His gaze flicked to Wulfrin as the man confidently cast his line into the water, seemingly at ease in the game’s wilderness. Bastion noted the casual but thorough approach to avoiding mobs and the quick tips about their attack patterns. It was effective, even if Wulfrin's upbeat demeanor grated slightly against his preference for less bubbly company. "Safe is relative," Bastion

The sun filtered through the forest canopy, dappling the soft earth with light as Bastion knelt to inspect a cluster of familiar herbs. His attention was focused, his fingers brushing the leaves as he cataloged their properties. He harvested the plant, then movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention. He straightened, sharp eyes narrowing as a figure approached—a woman with an air of ease, her tone light as she greeted him. Bastion immediately recognized her from the mini-map: not a threat, but a player. Her question—direct and unexpectedly bold—broke the quiet between th

The acrid, tangy smell of the moss clung to the air as Bastion crouched near the rocky crevice, carefully scraping the strange, blue-cheese-scented plant into a vial. His fingers moved with mechanical precision, his mind preoccupied with cataloging the material for future use. And then, the buzzing began. At first, it was faint, a low vibration that resonated somewhere deep in his chest. He dismissed it, chalking it up to one of the neutral critters flitting about the mountainside. But as the sound grew louder, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His mini-map pulsed with

Satisfied with his small haul he was able to acquire the desire for better materials that would aid in raising his future alchemy skill quickly. That meant finding better herbs in higher level areas. He briskly exited the cave making sure to move as fast as he was able while maintaining caution. Not before long he arrived back at the Town of Beginnings and stepped onto the Gate. His hand gestured over the interface selecting the next floor above. ‘Here we go,’ He anxiously thought to himself. Bastion stepped through the shimmering light of the teleportation gate, the air growing no

The scent of herbs and chemicals struck Bastion as he stepped into the alchemist's shop, a faint haze of steam lingering in the air. Sunlight filtered through the window, catching on an array of colored glass bottles that lined the shelves, their contents glowing faintly with artificial brilliance. Bastion’s gaze scanned the room impassively, cataloging the details with his usual sharpness. The NPC, Evangeline, breezed into view with vials of violet liquid in her hands, her animated greeting bouncing against the quiet hum of the shop. Bastion gave her a polite nod, his expression unreadab

Bastion pressed his back against the gnarled trunk of a tree, every muscle tensed. The forest boar continued its search, rooting noisily through the underbrush just a few meters away. Its movements were unpredictable, but Bastion remained perfectly still, even as a bead of sweat threatened to trail down his temple. His feet primed to dart away quickly if need be, but the boar gave no indication of noticing him. After what felt like an eternity, the creature snorted and ambled deeper into the forest, its presence fading from Bastion’s mini-map. He exhaled quietly, the tension in his should

The forest stretched endlessly before Bastion, its towering trees weaving a canopy that filtered the sunlight into fragmented patterns on the ground. As he moved with deliberate caution, his gaze caught a faint, ethereal glow further ahead. Curiosity tugged at him, and he adjusted his blindfold slightly, sharpening his focus. Nestled against the base of a gnarled tree was a cluster of mushrooms, their caps radiating a soft, pulsing light. The glow illuminated the surrounding moss in a faint halo, like a beacon beckoning him closer. He knelt down a few steps away, inspecting the mushrooms

The quiet hum of early morning filled the air as Bastion adjusted the fit of his new navy blue kimono, Midnight's Chill, its fabric settling comfortably across his frame. He tied the matching blindfold around his forehead, letting it rest just above his eyes. His fingers brushed across the pouches at his belt, confirming their contents: empty vials for samples, a bundle of clean rags, and a small satchel of basic healing supplies. All of which was outlined in his inventory display. He drew a deep breath, his movements methodical and deliberate. The memory of his last foraging expedition—

Bastion stepped into the blacksmith shop, his movements purposeful but tense. His gaze darted briefly to the shimmering lake outside, its beauty lost on him as his unease simmered beneath his composed exterior. Being so far from the Town of Beginnings felt unnatural—reckless, even—but the smith had assured him it was safe. That assurance, and the promise of a unique weapon, were the only reasons he had ventured this far. The young smith looked up from his workbench, a welcoming smile tugging at his face. "Bastion! Glad you made it. I knew you'd come around." Bastion gave a curt nod,

Bastion stepped into the shop with his usual quiet demeanor, his eyes scanning the interior before landing on Morrígan and her raven companion. Without a word, he approached the counter where the kimono lay neatly folded. He picked it up, inspecting the garment with a critical eye. His fingers traced the fabric lightly, noting its smoothness and the subtle sheen of the dark navy blue. The raven design on the blindfold caught his attention for a moment longer than the rest. Satisfied, Bastion gave a small, precise nod—first to Morrígan, then to Phantom. His expression remained unreadable,

Recalling the exotically elaborate meal he ate during his first quest Bastion made it a priority to get some food of his own. He thought it was just basic food that replenished his energy and fatigue but, there were hundreds of thousand food combinations that provided various combat, defensive, and utility buffs he would need for his future trials. He entered a cookery that was non-descript with almost no decor. Minimal seating and a single one page menu. However, that was not why Bastion chose this particular venue. They had a new adventures special where your first order was heavily

Bastion stepped into The Morrígu, the quiet hum of the shop's atmosphere immediately settling around him. His eyes scanned the room quickly, noting the mixture of designs and the soft movement of Morrígan and her raven. He noted its intrigue but made no obvious indication of it. He wasn’t here for small talk or pleasantries. “I need a rush job,” he said, his voice blunt and steady as he approached the counter. “A dark navy blue male kimono. Matching blindfold. You may design the blindfold.” She was used to his demeanor from previous interactions but, today he was particularly sharp.

Bastion entered Breath of Life, the dim light of the tavern flickering against the mismatched furniture. His gaze swept over the grimy interior, taking in the odd assortment of patrons and the faint flicker of candlelight. The sour scent of beer lingered in the air, and the dull hum of conversation barely registered with him as he made his way toward the bar. Oz was behind the counter, looking as unremarkable as the place itself, but Bastion knew better than to judge a book by its cover. The quiet atmosphere suited him. He had no interest in lingering. “I need Memory-Whisking W

Bastion remained perched in the hollow, his sharp eyes fixed on Morrigan as she danced with the remaining gorilla. Her movements were precise, her focus unshakable, but even from his vantage point, he could see the tension in her posture. She was tired, though she hid it well. The halberd flashed in the dim forest light, and with a decisive strike, she drove the blade deep into the creature's chest. Its roar of defiance quickly faded, and the beast collapsed to the ground, lifeless. For a moment, the clearing fell silent, save for Morrigan's heavy breathing. Bastion exhaled, easing the

Bastion stepped into A Familiar Tune, immediately taken by the cheerful ambiance and the soft, distant sounds of Beethoven’s 7th Symphony echoing through the air. The bright studio felt almost out of place in his otherwise pragmatic world, but he couldn’t deny the allure of experimentation. His eyes scanned the rows of instruments scattered about the showroom, but his attention quickly turned to the recording crystals. He’d heard about the giveaway through a community message board—a chance to experiment with buff and debuff tracks. Bastion wasn’t much for music, but the idea of gaining a