Alkor

Alkor looked at his pipe for a long moment, realizing it was empty. He could have reached for another bit of the herb, but he ultimately decided against it. It wasn't like he was getting a buzz off of it, and he'd been drawing long enough to scratch the itch. Instead, he quietly pocketed it and rested his hands in his lap. "No point in dishonesty. It never sticks. People always figure out the truth behind the lies eventually, and it always ends making them more upset than anything else." His Grandmother had taught him all about liars and thieves. They sometimes got what they wanted, but i

NIGHT was taking too many risks. It was valiant for her to willingly stand at the Van, but without the proper equipment and allocated p"oints, there were far too many opportunities for things to go wrong. Too many more hits from the very obviously indifferent dragon and the DPS player would meet with an untimely end. And it was Alkor's job to prevent that from happening. All to eager to get into the boss' face, Alkor had lost sight of the real objective for a moment. Too much time spent doing the wrong thing was time spent throwing the rest of the team under the bus. He had to take actio

This manner of fighting was an entirely different beast. Instead of the tip of the spear, he was supposed to be the shield. What made that even more complex was that all the moves he practiced, all the speed and acrobatic movements no longer served him. His attempts to move with grace and fluidity took him over his own two feet when he practiced in his free time, and having never gone into battle after changing up his skillset, he knew that he had been a fool to take on such a monumental responsibility. And yet, though NIGHT volunteered, she was hardly equipped for the role. There w

Everyone had their own way of mentally preparing for stressful things. For some people, it was relaxation and reflection, meditation, some means of setting themselves at ease. Others were more fond of getting themselves excited, hyped up, ready for the challenge at hand. For Alkor, the anxiety had long since taken root. He'd grappled with several stages of despair already, the critical self-doubt that came with having nearly failed and died in this same situation before. He came to grips with that possibility and took the fear, and he swallowed it whole. It remained sour and bitter, stale, bur

"That is, ultimately, your decision Setsuna," Alkor replied as he watched her take a few mouthfuls of rice. She seemed to be struggling with the concept, reasoning through it like a logic engine. He could commiserate with that just a bit. Sometimes things that seemed completely normal or reasonable to most people felt alien to him. What he did understand, or what he had only recently started to understand, was that in life it was a person's agency that made the experience valid. Being able to make choices was the basic and most fundamental building block for freedom. Until now, he hadn't

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