As the chaos of their gaming session unfolded, the party leader couldn’t resist shouting at their crew with the maturity of a prepubescent comedian: “That’s what your mother said last night, get shrekt!” Their exasperated teammates struggled to hear each other over the raucous commentary and the crunch of Doritos being masticated.
Aedyran forces roared in agony as the chaos continued. Their attacks were both wild and effective, reminiscent of a time when Xbox Live was riddled with unchecked aggression. Without aiming once, they pinned enemies down, dizziness no longer a concern thanks to their hardened resolve born of many battles. They pushed forward, driven by the allure of loot, celebratory dances, and the juvenile thrill of disrespecting fallen foes.
Back at base camp, their beloved arquebus received yet another upgrade. They dreamed of the day they could customize its entire appearance with the most garish skin imaginable. Their journey’s bizarre focus was to become the ultimate troll, accompanied by companions who barely tolerated their antics and a dedication to the gods of Major League Gaming.
These memories took them back to Fior Mes Ivèrno, where they first acquired their proud possession—a powerful firearm reminiscent of a Barrett 50 Cal. They saved up desperately for it, envisioning themselves using it to dominate foes in outrageous style, despite their face being comically hidden by enchanted wood.
“I’ll give you wood,” they quipped to themselves as they navigated the early days of Avowed, a journey fraught with lessons. Staying well out of melee range became critical, and they discovered the delicate balance between reloading their weapon and executing their signature spins, avoiding unnecessary reload delays.
They faced many defeats, relying on their team’s support as the disapproving gods rambled on about philosophy. Death loomed often, but they were more concerned with their disappointing kill-to-death ratio. Living with the shame of defeat while battling lag was tough, yet their spirit remained unbroken, and they knew there was room for growth.
Drawn to the challenge, they invoked the spirit of the Faze Clan, refusing to surrender. With time, their skills sharpened, and in lengthy battles, their accuracy improved. The satisfying sight of hitmarkers became more frequent, their aim true and deadly, filling the air with the acrid scent of teenage bedrooms. They were blazing a trail, defying convention at every turn.
They readied themselves for their first bounty, setting their sights on Old Nuna, a fearsome beast that lay in wait. Armed with a cacophony of air horns and backed by a soundtrack of iconic music remixes, they ventured into its lair prepared for anything.
As they entered the grotto, they fortified themselves with everything from their inventory and fired in a haphazard dance that would have made even Danny DeVito take notice. The shots that missed paled against those that struck true, and soon Old Nuna, the biggest target, was down. “Mom, get the camera!” They cried triumphantly, as their screen lit up with congratulatory hitmarkers and nods to secret societies.
Returning to Fior, they drew the gaze of everyone around, but no bounty was worth a lifetime of loot boxes, they were told. Unperturbed, they whispered a mock recording of a teasing rant in the bounty master’s ear before strolling away, revelling in the shock they left behind. Victory was their destiny, and they would grow stronger.
This was just the beginning. The legend of Avowed’s 360 no-scoper had begun. Fueled by energy drinks and undeniable truth, they were ready for whatever came next. Inquisitor Lödwyn had certainly overstepped their bounds this time.
