Alkor

The darkness at the end of eternity stretched out before them. Moments after the raid group entered the blinding light, they could see the way that the monolithic being soaked it all in, a black morass that gorged itself on light refracted from all sides. Wushen was an enigma, a force of nature that acted against life itself. And yet, paradoxically, it was alive. Creatures eternally tormented by their own existence are the most wretched of all. They were kindred spirits in that regard. How long had Alkor felt like existence was a chore? The sight of an immortal spirit that looked no

Alkor had known going into the raid that the community suffered from a severe lack of people willing to take on the risks involved with frontline tanking. The people who stood in front of the people standing at the front were the most hearty of adventurers, but also, the ones who kept the rest of them alive. He didn't think he was quite ready to be the guy, but he was definitely coming to terms with the fact that he needed to be a guy. ...did that even make sense? It did in his head, so he went with it. He watched quietly as the others began to filter into the room, exchanging greetings,

The armor he'd donned for the event was bulkier than he imagined. It was every bit as protective in feeling as it was purported to be in statistic, but it felt foreign to him. Heavier. Sluggish. He was used to nearly dancing across a Battlefield, rather than sitting in harm's way and taking the brunt of enemy aggression. It was to be a new sensation for him, after nearly dying to the ire of a boss many Moons before, to face one down in earnest. But he had not come unprepared. Alkor took one look at the spread that had been prepared for the raid and went through to make sure all the

Alkor hurried back into the shop where he'd bought potions before, displaying nothing short of tried and true blue American learned brand loyalty. He perused the wares for a few minutes, all categorized by their function and potency, until he arrived at the ones that he needed. Mitigation potions, suited for helping to offset the immense damage that the system thew at them during boss encounters. This way, he could stand between the others and imminent danger and not feel too terrible about it. Or at least, it was a step toward staying alive. Col/Mats sent.

Alkor walked into the shop and glanced around briefly. He hadn't truly discussed his plans with anyone, so his understanding of how heavier armor worked or the Enhancements that it could benefit from functioned was severely limited. He had to hope for the good nature of the store's proprietor, and while he wasn't really sure who the man was, when he put the word out that he was looking for armor, the Blacksmith had reached out in response. So, Alkor raised a hand in greeting and exchanged words with the man to complete the agreed upon dealings.

Skill(s) Being Dropped: One Handed Straight Sword (r5), Battle Healing (r5), Light Armor (r5), Survival Mod(s)/Addon(s)/Shift(s) Being Dropped: Precision, Stamina, Energist, Vengeful Riposte, Combat Mastery: Damage, ST Shift, Emergency Recovery, Meticulous, Resolve SP Incurred Towards Limit: ~ SP Refunded: 158 (total SP after refund = 195) Cost: Free Skill Respec Ticket (Paragon Reward)

He didn't take her for the type to indulge in gossip or rumors, but then, Alkor was nothing if not a terrible judge of character. He lacked the social skills to make passing judgments of any real worth, and couldn't pick up on any other cues besides. "Huh," he remarked aloud, giving his small amount of surprise more voice than a dismissive grunt. "Suits me," he added after a moment. "If I'm being honest, I'd hate to have come all the way here for nothing." So he was a bit blunt, perhaps even rough around the edges. Honesty had always been Alkor's preferred poison, and he not only drank it

For Evaluations!

"In the end, the burden falls on the individual to determine the path they will walk." Alkor replied evenly, still making no attempt to pressure her to agree with him or change. "There is no such thing as a sword that can give life," he said. "Those who believe in the benevolence of steel are either idealists or delusional, or perhaps both. A weapon is a tool for taking life, there are no exceptions. Who a blade is turned on, or what, is ultimately a question that the swordsman alone can answer." The sudden and paradoxical statement came as bluntly as it was sharp. "To take lif

He pondered for a moment over the conversation. The way she saw the world, right down to her admission that murder was such a casual topic of thought. Alkor's sunset gaze remained stoic, locked on the moonrise and undaunted by the prospect of his own mortality. He had faced death before. He had taken life. He had all but slept the corpse's sleep. The chill that followed Setsuna was a familiar cold. A frightening cold, at least to those who were not used to it. The ashen taste in his mouth and the heat that still smoldered in his lungs offered no comfort. Alkor withstood it in other ways.

What happens when I do? A million or more questions across a million more lifetimes in a single sentence fell from her lips. The future was something people sought solace about even in reality. They paid psychics to divine it, pouring out fortunes. Even in ancient times, civilization looked to the skies, gazed into flame, and cast bones simply to glimpse the unknowable. Anxiety was this small girl, wondering what all of them had always wondered, and simply because no one had ever given her peace about it. Anxiety was Alkor, who knew her pain all too well. "Hesitation and fear ar

As @irisconcluded her appraisal, Alkor carefully withdrew his blade and stowed it at his hip. Her smile was bright, small though it was. Positively radiant. And her words matched the brilliance with no small amount of magnanimity. She wasn't like Alkor- beyond being reserved and quiet, perhaps. He respected and appreciated the way she treated him. Like he was a person. "It's because of what you and others do that this sword can help protect people. I'd be glad to speak with you more later." Alkor gave a bow as they were quickly swept back up in the tide of the meeting, and he was abl

"Reality is often disappointing," he said from a place of vast experience, watching the woman as she approached. He said little else as she espoused her thoughts of self-worthlessness and even hate, all but affirming the demonization of her entire persona. She fumbled with her weapon in the way of a murderer for a moment, but relented. The blade settled on the ground, and she relieved him of his pipe. Alkor studied Setsuna as she took an unprepared hit from the pipe and her eyes watered from the burn. She said that she wanted it to stop. She said that she didn't know how, but she wanted i

He watched and listened, because that was his nature. Be seen and not heard, learn, and adapt. The social anxiety had taught him to survive by making himself malleable but not conforming. In the group, yet not truly a part of it. He was working through it, little by little. It was with several comments from starkly different perspectives that he finally got a sense of where he was, and who was around him. Ariel, who's information it seemed rivaled the direct source, felt that raid meetings should be more exclusive; and Freyd, who he had met briefly, thought that they were scant few for a

He'd almost assumed people stopped trying to progress. Everything had fallen into a pattern, a monotonous rhythm that felt almost comfortable in harmony with their discomfort. They did quests, they ate, they slept, and on fancy occaisons, the game deigned to throw social events at them. For a prison, it did a good job of keeping the masses sedated. So when news spread that someone had defeated the Labyrinth Guardian, he was startled to hear it. The Frontlines were moving again. Those same Frontlines he had left behind, shadowed by the guise of death. That was then, though. Alkor

"I answered a question that you didn't want answered, because the one you asked is subjective. There is no good answer. 'Enough' is quantified by a person's appetite. Yours is insatiable, because you've created a ceaseless hunger for justice. Enough will never be enough. Not until they're all dead, or you are, or this world ends." It would have been so easy to get caught in the trap of circular logic, the game that the victim creates to justify their abused mind's rationale. Alkor didn't have the ability to empathize with that. He was a machine when it came to logic. The correct answer, parse

Alkor sighed. He was the last person on earth who could help someone struggling with their identity, yet here he was, faced with someone who probably needed help more than he did. The way she was talking was indicative of something deeper than "take a timeout" or "go walk it off." But how many licensed therapists had logged into this game and gotten trapped? That would have just been too convenient. "I can't sleep," she said, "I can't eat." So the logical recourse was then to kill people? He watched her with his pipe dragging smoke into his throat. The burn ached in a good way, the

He cast his eyes toward the floor. How many times did it matter? How many times had he been late, admonished, but ultimately been able to continue on from it? How many times had it altered the very course of fate? He couldn't know, or he couldn't remember, but to put that kind of weight on something seemed like the effects of anxiety than anything firmly rooted in reality. It smacked of his panic attacks, things that seemed massive in the moment, but that held no real bearing on his life. At the same time, it was an experience they did not share. Her Survivor's Guilt drove her to tak

Alkor blinked. The woman mentioned something about how it wasn't an elaborate scheme to get the two of them alone, but that wasn't logically consistent anyway. Alkor had met the woman perhaps once before, and he certainly didn't know her well enough for anything like that. She was joking, obviously. He gave a 'heh,' trying to be kind despite not finding humor in the joke. "I didn't figure you meant anything hostile by it," Alkor replied when she stated that she didn't mean to interrupt. "Honestly, there wasn't much business involved. She wanted to check out some kind of rumor, but it seem

She spoke of hell and of paradise, and Alkor wondered. Where did the barrier between the two begin to fray? Christian depictions of Heaven for thousands of years described it as Paradise, as a perfect place where pious souls spent eternity. Yet by contrast, those souls gave up debauchery and fulfillment in life to find their way there, casting aside precious experience, beauty, all the things that made life living. In pursuit of a dream, they spent their fleeting moments on Earth denying themselves humanity. What was paradise? What was damnation? Did any of it matter? Alkor looked ag

"Normal people," she said again. The way she spoke inferred that she included him in that grouping, and Alkor smiled faintly. Setsuna was probably one of the only people who would ever place him into that category. He reached into his cloak and rifled around the contents of his inventory until his fingers rested upon the prize he sought, and when he found it, the long, rustic pipe spun deftly between his fingers and into plain view. "Normal people," he repeated once more, whether or not to agree with her. With a quick motion of his left hand, the pipe was between his lips. He leaned forwa

He didn't seem surprised to find someone in this place. It may have been more accurate to say that it was more surprising that whoever or whatever was here did not immediately attack him. Alkor was of course glad for that fact, but he seemed more preoccupied with the state of the world around him than anything else. He came here for the view, for the ambiance that was the silence at the end of the world. To be alone with his thoughts. Most people came to places like this out of a sense of dread fascination. Fear, loathing, a reminder that they were alive and that this was the altern

The sky was a fire, eternally lit over the ashes of civilization. Orange and red hues bled across the mottled, dusty landscape where trees once thrived and Elves nourished and revered the land. Where trees like jade once stretched toward the sky, now only the husks of buildings and whispered memories of a time long lost remained. Alkor stared out at the ruin with vacant eyes. This was a truth, unmitigated by the system's proclivity for beautiful lies. The first in a series of grim reminders that their fate was controlled by a power outside of their realm of control, and with each day tha

He wasn't sure of what she meant, but Alkor managed a slight shrug in response. "Yeah, if you say so." No one was telling him what was going on exactly other than that it had something to do with the Sanctuary situation Lessa had explained to him, with what he vaguely recalled to be some kind of Kool aid cult. If that was the case, he had to assume that these women were invested, and there were some details that probably skirted the line of personal privacy. He knew better than to press his luck asking questions. Realistically, it didn't matter if he did. Thom had always found it funny

...had he heard that right? The way she talked about not leaving her house reminded him of life back in the real world for him. The way it had been for several years since his Grandmother's health declined. It was hard for him to picture Lessa as the kind of person who could succumb to depression, but then, Alkor had to admit his pool of things to compare it to was woefully limited. He had little choice but to believe her- especially because if he didn't, wouldn't that be ignoring what was essentially a cry for help? ...but who in their right mind would come to him for help?? I