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About Bahr

  • Title
    The Kingslayer

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  • Guild Name
    The Tarot

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  1. Things had grown suspiciously quiet. The boisterous cries of his comrades seemed to have become deafened, as thought he very darkness itself was snuffing out any audible trace of them. Or perhaps the more likely reality was that they'd grown weary of hearing themselves grasping desperate any any mere modicum or semblance of relevancy. It didn't matter if the people here fancied themselves warriors or leaders or gods - they were but pawns in the Shadow's game. Orgoth still stood motionless. Was it possible that the Shadow had him tethered? Perhaps dispatching a few more of the minions would help to free the lumbering beast. Bahr only hoped that, when they did, it would join their side. A flick of the wrist, and three more of the monsters had been felled. Once the apparitions had been dispatched, Bahr once again perused the sheets of darkness in search of their ultimate foe. They seemed no closer to finding it than before.
  2. The minotaur was now taunting the Shadow. Good. It deserved it after such flamboyant posturing. Surely if the creature possessed the might it asserted it did, it would have no need to hide behind an army of puppets and underlings. The Frontliners were back to their heroic theatrics, each fulfilling the role of main protagonist in their respective headcanons, seemingly caring more for status and vanity than the increasingly desperate task at hand. Not that Bahr had expected any different. These people were a peculiar breed. As Bahr's eyes ignited crimson once again, the tendrils of darkness that had been slowly encroaching on the peripherals of his vision receded ever so slightly. He scanned the chambers for the Shadow, but couldn't locate it amid the horde of minions it had summoned. No matter. Sometimes the only way forward was through. Dawn's Demise hungrily agreed with this sentiment as it roared to life and shredded a pod of them instantaneously as they advanced, Bahr unmoving from his position. They were distractions. He had his eye on the prize.
  3. Bahr

    Elora's Evaluations

  4. Hoping to motivate Shannon to move a little bit quicker, John got up from waiting at the kitchen table, went outside, and sat down in the car. There was no particular time that they needed to be at Shannon's parents' house, but they had mutually decided on what was "now" about forty-five minutes ago, and John had been lingering in this antsy, anticipatory mood while he waited for Shannon to be ready. He now sat in the car, alternating through different VR apps, exhausting all recently available short form content and other relevant updates that didn't require his full attention, or much time. After about ten more minutes, passed, he went back inside to see what was going on. He found Shannon in the kitchen, eating a snack. "Are you serious?" John asked, "What are you doing? Let's go!" "I just needed a minute," Shannon replied. "Alright, well, are you good now?" John asked? "Yeah," Shannon let out with a ring of annoyed indifference. During the initial part of the car ride, John acted pissy toward Shannon, exhibiting some weird hybrid of both passive and active aggressiveness. Shannon knew he was frustrated about running late, and they briefly squabbled back and forth over the seriousness of it, or lack thereof. After just a little while, they mostly calmed down, and reset. Moving on to talk normally about a series of different topics, sharing each others' lives with a depth, clarity, and care that only really comes with a genuine deep connection. A little less than halfway through the thirty minute drive, Shannon opened her purse and sifted through it looking for a snack pill to hold her over until dinner. While she did, John looked over into her purse out of the corner of his eyes to double check if she had brought the portable SSD memory display drive that he had given her earlier to put in her bag. When he did not see it right away, he said, "You did bring the memory drive, right?" Shannon paused abruptly, looked up and forward with a blank stare, and quickly began sifting through her purse again. Then, her jacket pockets. The drive was for Shannon's father. John was an architect and interior designer who used 3D animated VR and AR software to create virtual models of residential and retail property designs that could be experienced as virtual or augmented realities within actual spaces. John promised Shannon's father that he would create some iterations for the new house extension and remodel that they were planning. He'd talked to him just a couple days prior, and said that it was all set to show him. It was one of the main reasons why they were going to visit. But this wasn't about John, Shannon, or her father. This was about Bahr, who stared blankly at the shrieking boss without attacking as he became lost in this ultimately meaningless tangent of thought.
  5. Bahr

    [PP - F22] Such Great Heights

    It was three rapid fire messages, their notification pings ringing out one after another in steady procession. Though the rings were indistinguishable from another, they somehow seemed increasingly urgent with each successive chime, spurring Bahr into summoning the menu and navigating to the panel that housed their contents. They were from Lessa, explaining to Bahr that she had some sort of vague problem that she needed his assistance with. Though, despite having sent three messages back to back, she seemed reluctant to actually explain what this problem was. From the warmth of his bed, where he'd decided to spend most of his day, the idea of burgeoning into the cold of the snow-covered twenty-second floor sent a strange numbness down his spine. Though, if it was Lessa who was asking, he couldn't very well say no. He'd sulked following Oscar's departure from the guild for long enough, and it was probably time to develop the nerve necessary to fill her in on it. Helping her was a bonus, and just getting to see her at all was the icing on the cake. Location data swiftly led him to her location, where nothing seemed to be particularly amiss. "And what seems to be the issue?" he inquired through chattering teeth, probably coming off quite a bit more terse than he'd originally intended to. "I mean - what can I help with?"
  6. My pleasure. There was no clever quip. No speech. No corny soapboxing about what it meant to be a hero, or fighter, or warrior. Only Bahr, very suddenly placed in front of what remained of the pitiful boss, peering up at it with palpable indignance. Twin red orbs visually dissected the monster that stood before Bahr, studying its movements as he calmly and idly sank the tip of Dawn's Demise into its rough skin. There was no anger, malice, or strife in his eyes - at the very least, none detectable to the common observer. He was far beyond a point where his brain had the capacity to convey his emotions through facial expressions. They were merely open, alive, and focused. He'd entered a state of flow where the only things he could focus on any longer were the movements of the boss, and the movements of himself. It hadn't even yet managed to full stand up, yet Bahr had taken its moment of weakness, however short, to pick away at the sliver of health it had remaining. He hadn't even bothered to put any measure of real "oomph" into the attack. Whatever remained of its health, if not drained by his stab, would be wiped out by those who followed. After a moment, these crimson beacons peered again into the darkness beyond, searching for the grand architect of the whole charade. Bahr's efforts were wasted on the likes of a puppet like this - he needed to keep his eyes on the prize.
  7. Bahr graciously accepted the fellow crimson-clad warrior's hand, shaking it firmly. "And you're Raidou, evasion tank extraordinaire. I'm glad our flavor of sustenance is catching on - I was told for a long while that we rogues were the flimsy ones. Look who's laughing now." "I'd be interested in more team-ups between Firm Anima and the Tarot. It seems our skillsets marry well to one another." As he relinquished Raidou's hand of his grip, Bahr's eyes, too, glossed over the chamber. It seemed that Freyd's observation had been an astute one - NIGHT was nowhere to be found. "More than likely, she's already splintered off to aid our axe-wielding companion. I'm down for another round if you lot feel up for it. I'm running low on consumables, and it looks like the feasts from the beginning of the raid are finally starting to expire. Shouldn't be an issue, though." Without another word, Bahr boots began tapping away at the disheveled floor tiles as he began the trek back to the entrance. yo was that outro weak? it was weak wasn't it. let's try this instead. "YEET!" And he was gone. RAID COMPLETED Thread net gains: Bahr Raidou NIGHT Freyd Haine Kiluia 17 SP 17 SP 17 SP 8 SP 17 SP 17 SP 80000 col 80000 col 80000 col 1600 col 80000 col 80000 col 3 Spirit Shards 3 Spirit Shards 3 Spirit Shards - 3 Spirit Shards 3 Spirit Shards Horn of Battle Horn of Battle Horn of Battle - Horn of Battle Horn of Battle Duality Duality Duality - Duality Duality Gungnir's Shard Gungnir's Shard Gungnir's Shard - Gungnir's Shard Gungnir's Shard Huginn and Muninn Huginn and Muninn Huginn and Muninn - Huginn and Muninn Huginn and Muninn
  8. "You might be durable, Raidou, but don't make the mistake of thinking I can't poke a hole in that armor of yours," Bahr chided. "Playing dumb will only get you so far." "You were right about one thing, though," he surmised as he gazed upward, catching hints of the final glimmering remnants of blue polygonal dust before they were fully annihilated by the entropy of the system. "We did good work. I'd heard this dungeon was supposed to be hard, but I've faced quests that were tougher." Then, as though suddenly realizing, he added, "Then again, I'm usually flying solo. Doubt I would have gotten past the chained gimps on my own." Crimson and verdant irises flickered from the now empty air toward the rest of the party, identifying a bizarre comfort in the mismatched hooligan company. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say we make a pretty great team. Raidou, most of these kids are your guildees, right?"
  9. Scattered throughout the chamber, each member of the party was contemplating the reality of their situation. Beyond the scorched tiles of the floor and fires stoked by the beast's raw might, a brighter flame that rested in each of their hearts manifested through the fierce gaze shared between their eyes; filling the expanse with a harsh glow and illuminating the circumstances of their triumph. Ones and zeros had folded beneath their cumulative power and perseverance, yielding to their preparation, skill, and determination. The Players stood tall, eyes affixed to their prey, thoughts brimming with ruminations of treasure, and glory, and victory. All of the Players, that is, except for one. "YEET!" The sudden memeful declaration pierced through the meditative silence with a somewhat shrill undertone. Bahr, airborne by this point, sailed directly toward their shared adversary. Crooked grin stretched across his face, wide mismatched orbs glued to the creature's health gauge, and a massive sword raised above his head ready to crash down to snuff its remainder out the moment the distance between himself and the entity of his disdain closed adequately. He'd been embarrassed by his recent blunder, and aimed now to forever solidify his legacy as the prince of all Saiyans Crimson Goofball, all with a flick of the wrist. Splick! And it was done. The monster let loose one final, pitiful roar before bursting into a miasma of azure crystalline fractals, each cascading and gliding against nothingness until they evaporated and became one with it.
  10. "I can't get the damn thing open man. Give it a shot real quick, will you?" Had memeification really paved the way for Oscar to inquire assistance from a mere mortal like Bahr? Say it wasn't so. He obliged silently, tapping the chain with Dawn's Demise and watching as it disintegrated into countless polygonal shards and wafted away no unlike the dandruff from an American otaku. "That oughtta do it," he remarked most unceremoniously, almost as though the writer wasn't sure what more to add. Weird how that happens sometimes. With the chain destroyed and the submissive gimp relinquished from his demon dominatrix's hellish grasp, the swordsman's dual-toned eyes refocused on the enemy of the group. There she stood - or hovered, rather - dumb face agape with what almost looked to be genuine surprise that the warriors had managed to dismantle her BDSM party. "Come now," Bahr challenged, "You can't honestly expect us to believe that you've done the punishing all your life. Nobody develops a habit quite like this if they've always been in control."
  11. Three long strides brought Bahr ever closer to his immobilized target, Dawn's Demise blazing into a fierce crimson as whatever distance between himself and the overgrown mutt disintegrated. Before he could capitalize on the approach, however, a figure flashed into existence before him. "Oh SHI-" Crash! When had NIGHT appeared before him? Such was always the quandary when working with the more elusive types. He'd rammed into her at full tilt rather than strike anything meaningful with his blade. The resulting impact had sent the pair skittering across the floor in unceremonious fashion, Bahr's face flushing with a deeper scarlet than possessed by his jacket. When they'd finally come to a (rough) halt, Bahr clambered to his knees and stared at the small woman incredulously. "When... How..." He struggled to process what had just happened. "WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?" As though she knew. For both of them, it was almost certainly a blur of colors and vertigo. Whether by the grace of Cardinal, or the fact that humans' brains were never designed to handle speeds such as this, they'd wound up a pile on the far side of the arena. There was no fault to give other than some unseen force that had been quite unkind to Bahr as of late.
  12. “I’ve noticed that you haven’t struck the minotaur a single time. Why is that?” It was cold. The shadows had coalesced into a sort of viscous sludge, swirling about Bahr and tugging at the peripherals of his coat. While the physical discomfort threw him off balance, it did not sting so much as the Shadow's taunting. It wasn't enough that Bahr was failing - the Shadow had made it its mission to highlight his shortcomings and bring them to the forefront. As the obsidian liquid oscillated about in revolting fashion, Bahr hung his head shamefully. “Is it all a part of your plan, or are you simply failing yet again? Failing, just like you failed to protect your friend from that goblin? Just like you failed to protect your girlfriend from me?” Like a jolt of electricity, the true meaning of the words surged inward from all of Bahr's extremities to his core, then raced along his spine and straight through the top of his skull. Everything became hazy as he did everything in his power to inhibit his natural inclination to rush headlong into the heart of the darkness and square off against the heinous creature himself. To seize the Shadow by its neck and thrash it against every surface in the arena until nothing remained. Or were the welling tears in his eyes the culprit of his vision loss? Try as he might to understand, or decipher, or comprehend, he couldn't. The anger was the first thing he felt. Bubbling like a witch's cauldron, hot and unyielding, its ingredients hatred and unbridled contempt. As the concoction stewed, new ingredients entered the mix. Dismay. Regret. A fear unlike anything he'd ever felt. He himself had been on the brink of death before. He'd witnessed firsthand Lessa in an identical situation. None of it compared to the cocktail of dread he currently felt. Though, through all of it, the most familiar of the emotions roiled to the surface. A lens through which he was comfortable expressing the tension. Rage. Eventually, he felt its heat in the palm of his hand. His eyes, both dyed in scarlet, flickered to the source of the numb throbbing it produced. Without having noticed, he'd charged up a Sword Art. How long its high pitched whine had been humming away was lost on him. Its crimson glow bathed the surrounding liquid darkness that had now gone tepid in an unsettling mosaic that only seemed to stretch its unnatural shadows further and further the brighter Dawn's Demise became. Smoky obsidian tendrils crept along the blade as streaks of ivory shot back and forth, both the weapon and its owner unsure which myriad of explosive energy to unleash upon the poor, misguided entity. Whatever moisture had filled his eyes moments before, too, had been boiled away. Somewhere nearby, he vacantly heard someone trying to get his attention. Trying to tell him it would all be alright. But he was fixated on the steam that now rose from his glove, the odor it carried that of scorched fabric and flesh alike. Absently, he wondered how many health points were being wafted away with the smoke. There was no pain or buzz to accompany the damage - only the numbness that had pervaded his every pore since the initial jolt had passed. Twin fiery orbs remained fixated on this steam as though his life depended on it. And in a way, it did. Somehow, amid the violence and carnage and yelling and everything else that had filled the chamber with chaos, the self destructive burn was the only thing that kept him grounded. That reminded him that doing what he wanted to do would only lead to further self destruction. And oh, did he want to do it. He'd held onto this Sword Art far beyond typically allowed. The burn was there to remind Players to allow the system to take them through the motion, else the Sword Art would be wasted. No doubt it was a powerful one. Bahr half expected that, should he find his mark against the Shadow's neck with an attack like this, he'd watch its head skitter across the shattered floor. His eyes left Dawn's Demise and slowly searched the darkness beyond, a dual red glow that could bring a ship to port in a storm. If the Shadow was there, it was imperceptible. There was nothing he wanted more than to follow through with this desire, even in knowing the inherent danger and risk it presented. Nothing, except to make sure she was okay. "Floor Seven," he breathed, voice barely audible to even himself. "She said she was going to be on Floor Seven today." Finally, the glow subsided. The steam perished. Crimson flooded from his left eye, and he was left with the typical Christmas combination he'd come to be known for. One shaky hand reached into his coat pocket and produced a rectangular azure crystal. He stared at it for a moment, wondering if what he was about to do was the right thing. Would he really forsake the Frontlines, and the party that relied on him, for the sake of hearsay issued by a floor boss that was almost certainly contorting Bahr's whims to fulfill its twisted machinations? Yes. "Teleport, Nimbus," he finally announced, waiting to be whisked away in the following seconds. Instead, he was greeted with panel, heralding an insidious message. What? As his eyes repeatedly scanned the alert and burned its words into his mind, he could not fathom, nor comprehend, how this was the case. Nonfunctional? Was this also the Shadow's doing? "Teleport, Florenthia." He'd use the stairs. If that was what needed to happen, then it was what he would do. Again. This was no accident. Something was going on. "We're trapped," Bahr said aloud, as though anyone in his vicinity was actually listening. "Something's happening to the rest of the castle. The Teleport Gates are cut off." He dismissed the panel, eyes blank, mentally searching for any alternative to ascertain his love's wellbeing. After a moment of contemplation, an epiphany arrived. He summoned his menu, the typical chimes drowned out by the ensuing noise that encircled him, and immediately navigated to the friend list panel. He scrolled until he found Lessa, tapped on her name, then breathed a sigh of relief. It was there. Her location data. She wasn't gone. Immediately, the rage burst to the surface once more. The Shadow had lied to him. Referenced the passing of his best friend, then transitioned straight into a threat on Lessa's life. It was inexcusable. The tension had grown so powerful that it locked Bahr in place, frozen like a statue, unable to heed his instructions to charge forth and annihilate everything before him. But the moment Bahr took his first step, he knew it be over for everything that stood in his path. The Shadow had just tapped into a fury of which it could not comprehend. Bahr wasn't sure how it knew the things that it did, but clearly it hadn't been paying enough attention. It would be smote by Bahr's righteous opposition the moment it reared its grotesque head for the chopping block.
  13. "Yo. Legit question. What the fuck is happening here?" Each individual member of the party (save for NIGHT) was acting like they were high on a mixture of cocaine and battery acid. Surely, whatever was happening here was bad, both for the mind and the soul. "Are you... Are you guys okay?" It was half question, half statement. The absurdity had reached a level that seemingly barred meaningful interactions between the participants of the raid. Were they to continue down this route, Bahr felt they risked turning into actual memes before the fight was over. Which, if it were to reach that point, Bahr hoped they would at least be a good meme. Something that would stand the test of time. The Good Guy Greg of Sword Art Online memes. If such a thing were possible, that is. Though, he knew in the back of his mind that nothing would ever outpace the legacy of boars.
  14. Bahr

    [PP - F1] Episode 3: Thorn Prick

    As Lessa showered him with praise, he felt a scarlet hue flood his cheeks no less palpable than the color he sported on his coat. "She jests," he blurted, awkwardly gesturing toward her with an outstretched, upward-tilted palm. "She's been doing this for way longer. Whatever lead I have in raw power, she makes up for in unrivaled experience." After a slight pause, he added, "And smarts." "At any rate, I'd hate to go head to head with her. She's sharp as a tack and surprisingly nimble in her armor. I'm not totally confident I'd be able to hold out against her for long." Though, things were getting a tad off track, weren't they? He couldn't get away with gushing about his girlfriend forever. "Anyways, no charge," he concluded, holding both hands up at chest level and shaking his head. "You'd be surprised how often this sort of thing happens. Those took me but a short while to cobble together - they'll get more use in your hands than they will in mine. Whatever money I could have made, I can retrieve from a single mob on the higher floors. It's not worth it to gatekeep survivability."