Alkor

The impact jarred him.

Before they ever had time to cool their heads and have a constructive conversation, the destruction robbed them of all clarity. Some fell away while others embraced the momentum. All of them found themselves with footing, somehow. He could no longer see the strange, loud woman or the blonde who entreated with him to stop the horrific scene from unfolding. Aincrad never seemed to consider the hopes and dreams of its captives. This quest seemed no different, no less apathetic.

What it lacked in compassion, the game made up for in allowing the Players mutability. It replaced intense longing with dread and hopelessness, the embers that stoked rebellion. What else could he do but arm himself with the few weapons it offered him but defy fate?

His landing was rough. Heels hit first, then toes, and then knees to displace the shock as he rolled through to his feet. He started to run immediately, barreling through a group of guards who shuffled to block his path forward. Not so far away, he saw the gate and another set of armed responders staged perfectly to bar him entrance. That was when he spied the others- the belligerent woman with red hair, namely. He immediately surmised her intention as she began to turn her aggression on a statue nearby.

There was no time to think. No time to rehash whether or not the idea was a good one, or if it would work. It would work. They would make it work.

With the gilded energies of a Sword Art coalescing around it, Alkor hefted his blade and cast his lot to the system. His body hurtled forward free from inhibitors, spinning and slamming the blade into the leg of the stature and tearing through with scant little resistance. In perfect time with the attack from his compatriot, the foundations of the artistic rendition gave, and the Blonde youth followed through his spinning slash with a well timed side kick. It belted out and made contact, forcing the behemoth object to fall toward @Celeste. She wasted no time in utilizing the momentum to lob it into the wall.

It smashed through in an ear-shattering collision and dust plumed outward. He covered his face and coughed loudly, expelling the particulates that made their way into his throat. 

Nothing would get in their way.

This was their response to the world that had stolen everything from them.

Ready, Aim, Fire.

[201909] LD: 10

Round 4 Progress: 38/150

Alkor felt the jarring sensation through his head as yowling metal protested the red woman's efforts. He watched in disbelief as she handed him the door handle and told him to "jam it in" to the breach. "Yeah," he replied swiftly as he knocked aside the box he'd previously set in place to offset the loss of power, right, then." 

With a quick and precise motion, he wedged the metal into the rupture and stepped back. "All yours," he prompted to @Celeste just before he heard an explosion of voices from behind and a loud impact. Alkor whirred round to see the blonde woman barreling into the darker haired one and spouting something about crashing the tower. He was uncertain about any of it, but there was one thing he did know. 

"Both of you shut up and start working together, or we're all going to die," he stated flatly as he left Celeste to her work to make for the controls himself. They were sorely in need of some direction, and it was clear that everyone had their own ideas about what that entailed. Rather than arguing with them, Alkor was the type of person to make the decision for himself and deal with the ramifications of his actions later. It was always easier to ask forgiveness than for permission, after all.

The First Sword moved through the door to better assess the situation he was walking into, and whether it would be easier to go in with sword drawn or just make for the helm. 

@Nian @Krysta @Plini

[201876] LD: 6 

Navigation: 113/100
Power: 91/100
Supplies: 73/100

With the situation as fraught as it seemed to be, one would think the group would come together and work as a team. That did not appear to be the case as Alkor sauntered along the deck and saw a group anything but unified. Chaos reigned over the people making a mad dash in every direction around him. Their voices and movements drowned in the explosive reports of blasts from far below. Smog choked the Knight as he ascended toward the helm, only to see the confrontation between several Players. He barely understood the words, but their actions spoke loud enough to reach him through the haze of insanity that had set in.

He let out a cough, fighting in vain to clear his airway. There were tears at the edges of his eyes and dark bags under them. The ashen blasts gifted him the look of a perpetually tired man. As the wind picked up seemingly out of nowhere and buffeted the ship, Alkor caught himself on the railing and held fast. Part of him wanted to interject himself between the two women who appeared ready to go at each other violently, but the darker haired girl broke away before he had a chance.

That was good.

No matter how well they kept the ship on course, it seemed like the engines were stalling intermittently. It was the only feasible explanation for why they kept dipping lower at intervals, even with a more or less self-correcting course. It was a system event, after all- there was only so far it could deviate from the plans that Cardinal had... right? 

Alkor slid across the deck toward the power couplings that diverted steam heat into electricity to power the controls and keep the airship aloft, and he found where a concentration of heat was venting out, away from the intended course. Damn, he thought to himself as he looked for a way to mend the damage. It was likely that it resulted from the scuffle to steal the ship, but in slaughtering the crew, they had equally destroyed any chance of anyone on board having the tools or knowledge to deal with this problem adequately- unless one of the Players happened to be an Electrician, or an airship maintenance expert.

Damn damn damn. 

For the moment, he grabbed a crate and covered the venting steam to trap it inside the ship. Hopefully that would allow more of it to follow the proper channel until he could find a more lasting solution. "Someone grab me something I can weld a pipe together with!" he called out loudly, his voice carried on the wind so that anyone aboard could hear him. He couldn't feel the deck heating beneath him yet, so he wagered he had time before his solution became a bigger problem than the ones they already had.

[201856] LD: 12 Power

Navigation: 69/100
Power: 69/100
Supplies: 63/100

The ship lurched, and jerked round as the Players aboard fought to stabilize her. Where he made sure that the mouthy woman made her way safely aboard ahead of him, Alkor was still at the mercy of the throttling, wildly wailing chain. Thrashing to and fro, he found it difficult to gain purchase at all. The dull static sensation in his elbow warned the First Knight that he was perilously close to losing his grip. Thankfully someone managed to right their trajectory just enough, and he got his other hand on.

"Brutal," he muttered as the ship sputtered, struggling it seemed to stay aloft at all. It was a wonder they made it this far- were they completely winging it? This event seemed to become even more insane as it played out.

Alkor pulled himself slowly up the chain and to the railing, his eyes scanning the deck for the first person he saw. There were too many, and the only one he remotely recognized was the woman he helped board moments before. They were in the throes of running around like beheaded chickens, which seemed to help very little given their situation, but he was just as lost.

With a harsh tug, he pulled the chain over the rail and started to wind it into a pile on the deck. At the very least, one less awkward distribution of weight overboard would help to right them on whatever ill-fated course they deigned to plot.

He glanced toward the helm. That would be his next destination. Time to find out who was flying this damn thing.

[201803] CD: 3 Navigation

Navigation: 31/100

Power: 33/100

Supplies: 31/100

The rush to the Skyport was a blur of thoughts. Like a shell-shocked soldier, the Knight waded through the confusion only vaguely aware of what was happening around him. It was the loud sound from behind him that jarred his senses and stole him back to augmented reality. Alkor spun rapidly as someone yelled out to him. His eyes darted to confirm the threat, and when he found it his blade spun in the palm of his hand. In a reversed grip as he took two swift steps toward his vulnerable foe, the sword drove home. With the blade sunken into the guard's armor half of its length, Alkor waited for two heartbeats for the system to dismiss the tragic man. Data bled from the wound as he slowly turned his attention to the woman who had addressed him.

"..." At first, Alkor said nothing. The woman had a crass, almost overtly rude tone to her voice. Her words suggested she had done him a favor, but the way she was saying them did not make him feel thankful at all. How was he supposed to respond to them? "...thanks?" he asked.

The reality was that even if the guard managed to get the drop on him, it would most likely have ended in just as much of a mess. The paralysis from Witchfang had already set in, causing the guard's jaw to slack and spew saliva as his eyes rolled back. Caustic energies from the various debuffs coalesced in a storm of death that roiled inside of the NPC until finally he expired. When the fragments spilled out in every direction, Alkor withdrew his weapon at last. "Remember, they always get back up," he told her, sheathing his sword as he turned his attention toward the goal. "Meet lethal force with lethal force."

If he owed her, giving her valuable advice for survival in Aincrad was equivalent exchange... right?

They continued into the Port as though she had randomly selected him as a member of her group. And who the hell is Blondie? Wasn't that a band in the stone age? he wondered absently as they cleared the first obstacle and were promptly presented with another. There were myriad airships in various levels of disrepair; but the one that stood out was under serious duress. A handful of Players had converged on the skeleton crew and were attempting to commandeer the thing by force. "Looks like the place," he observed. The airship was tethered to the drydocks still, making the attempt to liftoff dead on arrival- not that any of the Players would have known that, unless they understood the mechanics of flight. Alkor severed the line with a quick Sword Art and quickly wrapped an arm around Lilik's waist. "Hold on tight," he commanded as he gripped the chain just before it snapped from being taut. The resulting whiplash propelled the two out into open sky, thrashing in air as the airship was forcefully launched from the dock.

He felt the resulting sensation in his arm in a way that might have been a break if this were the real world. Luckily in Sword Art Online, such things only resulted in damage, but there was no pain. The only limiter that might have caused him to fumble was removed by limiters within the world itself. He silently thanked the powers that be for that respite. 

"Climb up first," he told the woman, "I'll be right behind you."

Now free to soar through the skies, it would be much easier for the Players to navigate to their destination.

[ID: 201763 // LD: 8]

Progress:

Navigation: 8/100

Power: 0/100

Supplies: 4/100

He flicked through his inventory idly and summoned a towel. Dabbing the fabric against his body, the sweat began to dissipate and he felt the chill replaced with familiar heat. The false sensation of a digitized body burning off calories. It was a brief respite, but welcome. When her next message came, the blonde knight placed the towel over his head and folded his hands in his lap, seated on the ground. The rumors that began to circulate recently had created a massive influx in the number of info brokers. Where once they were relied on only for details about the floor boss, now they had a trove of new information about the ever changing world of Aincrad. Alkor rarely passed on the chance to explore. This would be no exception.

When he started to work up his response, Alkor paused only for a moment to consider what might make Lessa reach out to him specifically. They had talked briefly about being better about staying in contact. Was he overthinking again?

Quote

To: Lessa

A rumor? Exploring? Sure, sign me up.

At the very least, he could figure the rest out when they got to that point. If he let himself, his anxiety would just talk him out of agreeing anyway. That was something he wanted to avoid.

One more body to the pile seemed insignificant, but the weight of a life was never any less heavy. His duty to protect the innocent was not a license to take life. Even though the guards were data in the game, their purpose designated and outlined to the digit, they were not altogether mindless slaves to the system. They were doing a duty, no different from his own. This twisted world had its way of ripping pieces of the fabric that made up every individual away, leaving frayed remnants of the person they were behind. How many ribs were left in the fabric that comprised Alkor before the person he was before ceased to exist? He left those dark thoughts in his wake, burning with Ladonia.

It was the low groan of Airships that caught his attention. As they went winging into the firmament, the impending dread that seized the people mixed with their resolve. Nothing made sense anymore. Whether they lived or died, they had decided. With the Skyport behind them, the war machines glided into place. A rain of iron foretold their advance. 

Whether the sky was blotted out by ashen clouds or day had forsaken them in truth, not a soul knew. Alkor made his way through the charnel piles that now leaned against ramparts and barricades, shoveled out of the path to make way for the Imperator's guardsmen. Blood rivers swelled between cracks in the cobbled street and pockmarks stained the once immaculate thoroughfare. With freedom on one side and tyranny on the other, equilibrium exacted its unfeeling tax.

Still, he advanced.

Alkor knew what had to be done the moment he saw that the Empire had chosen to take to the air. They could not be allowed to establish that kind of superiority. As the Skyport grew closer, he thought he could see other Players already on their way. Good. He would not be alone in this.

[LD: 201747 // 13]

Progress: 80/125

A sea of madness swallowed the city.

Where once the turmoil existed only in the form of cracks across chiseled marble, now Ladonia was fractured obsidian, blackened by the flames of rebellion. Alkor navigated perilous streets, dodging and ducking the charred detritus of former Imperial holdings. The citizenry cast off their chains, and the things that collared them were kindling for the blaze that set the backdrop to the floor boss battle. The dull roar of a crowd became mind-numbing screams, chanting, and cheering as they trampled guards. En masse, their unpolished and unrefined numbers swallowed the rank and file. 

One after another, they threw themselves at the seat of power on the floor. They were rebuffed and then gained ground in a bloody waltz, painting the streets red. Guards that once stood to bar his way no longer had interest in him as the First Knight of Aincrad fought his way through the struggle. If the worst feeling associated with being trapped inside the game was helplessness, it now blossomed within him more than ever. "For Galtea!" came a scream of defiance from somewhere nearby, "for freedom! For vengeance!"

If their were shouts to the contrary, they died on the lips that conceived them. 

"Razwell will fall this day!" the certainty in those words brought both hope and despair. The determination was admirable, but the resignation that followed was palpable. The die had been cast. It was the Frontliners who stood to  lose everything from failure. If there was any way to prevent that, any way to increase the odds of victory, or decrease the odds of player death from the outside, Alkor was resolved to find it. His sword was in one hand in a flash of steel, diverting a blade away from one of the commonfolk who was awash in the sea of chaos. The woman was dazed, staring up at her assailant with abject fear in her eyes.

"No harm will come to those who have no part to play in this act," Alkor said solemnly. The woman shook violently, but fear rooted her in place. The owner of the parried blade turned on him. Ladonian, Galtean- all words, all divisive terms for two sides of a single coin. Aincradian. "Go," he called back over to his shoulder to the woman, who turned to look at him. He did not face away from his opponent. He did not turn his face from death. "Blood waters the fields that prosper in the wake of rebellion," he said, "but someone must live to tend those fields. Hurry."

After a moment of uncertainty, his words seemed to dispel her shackles, and she fled the scene. 

"The Imperator protects!" screamed the guard as he raised his blade and made to strike at Alkor. Two swathes of crimson appeared across his chest in a cross pattern as Alkor executed his Sword Art, no longer hindered by a ward in need of protection.

"When you see him in hell," Alkor muttered as the man scattered into fragments, "tell him to do a better job of it."

Alkor

 Level 31//Paragon 21

 740/740 HP 100/100 EN

23 Base Damage 30 Mitigation

5 Accuracy 3 Evasion 

32 Blight Damage (20 Mitigation loss for duration) 

48 Bleed Damage

Paralyze

50 Battle Healing 

Survival (10% increase to healing effects applied)

The seconds that ticked away until the battle were even more prominent in his mind. In the last Floor Boss battle he faced, Alkor was certain that nothing would go wrong. Experience and time had taught him to value life more than that. The anxiety that came with gambling one's life for the chance at freedom was exacerbated by the stinging uncertainty that surrounded the encounter ahead. He hadn't gone to the meeting, or even considered coordinating with the others because he was afraid to face them. He still had yet to reveal that he was alive to many of the others, and the confusion that it caused might rattle them. No, that meeting was a time for strategy, not for making dramatic entrances.

Which meant he was woefully unprepared. 

Armed with his hard work and dedication to training, he felt confident that things would go well as the fetid stench of sewer water overwhelmed his senses. He felt his eyes watering as he navigated the turgid mire, following the sounds of movement in the distance. The splashes of many footfalls, the voices of a group, surely this was the clear team sent to deal with the floor boss. The underground was a labyrinth in the truest sense. Just as he begin to see shadows taking shape against the stone walls by torchlight, the telltale sound of a system message stole his attention away.

               Rebellion has broken out in Ladonia.                   
           The Central Tower has been left unguarded.             
      Will you take advantage of this rare opportunity?     

He froze. There were a million possible meanings for this, but the most likely of them was that everyone was being prompted. The frontliners had breached the boss room, and now the game was reacting. The world of Aincrad was lashing out again. Alkor stared hard into the flickering shadows as they diminished. While they needed all the help they could get with the boss, there was always the chance of greater danger to those outside. Players who were not ready for the trials of the frontlines would be called up, unexpecting prey for the unforgiving Cardinal system. With a frown on his face, he turned his back on the clear and present mission. Several words echoed through his mind as he turned back, breaking into a sprint that would bear him to the overworld. 

Your duty is to the people of Aincrad.

His fingers moved deftly through the air and dismissed the message by fiercely tapping the blue circle.

Quest Accepted.

Beads of perspiration clung to his body as he spun. The blade tore across the straw dummy, drawing a line of crimson that indicated his blade struck true. His other foot stepped forward and he brought the blade upward in an arc, and droplets rained to the floor beneath him. How many times had he executed the Sword Arts, now? How many times had he seen his own actions and deemed them too slow, too sloppy?

Alkor screamed his frustrations to the universe, and the loneliness of the training yard answered him. The swordsman had shed several layers to compensate for the heat of the ninth floor, the site of his greatest failure in Aincrad, but the memories robbed him of all the respite he'd gained from the small act of defiance.

He dismissed the blade and fell promptly to his haunches, head buried in both hands. "Why am I struggling this much?" he asked. Was it so hard? The system took over automatically. It registered the very thought of which Sword Art a player wanted to execute, and with only a vague amount of doing, it actualized their intention.

But he had almost managed to break free from that. 

His foundations deviated from the integrated data. The system's shortcomings, in his view, failed to allow him room to adapt. Instead of a single, powerful, disconnected blow, it was possible for him to combine a series of smaller attacks for greater effect. So why couldn't he just cancel the activation of a Sword Art mid-way? Or was there a trick he just couldn't pin down?

He wiped the towel he'd brought with him across his brow as the familiar sound of a message chirped in his ears. It wasn't rare to hear from an Info Broker, but when he opened his eyes, the name he saw captured his attention.

The blonde knight stood up and started to wipe himself off as he opened the missive. He hung the towel across his shoulders and sat cross-legged in the dirt. Lessa wanted to know what he was doing...?

He scratched his head idly for a moment. Admittedly, he was bad with these things, but he'd promised to work on it. So, he started to respond.

Quote

To: Lessa

Training. Nothing special. How about you?

Alkor

"Kochira koso, yoroshiku onegaishimasu." For someone with a laid back attitude, his linguistics mirrored a more cultured, respectful upbringing. It was an odd dichotomy. He watched as Hikoru left them to their business and once he was gone, Ariel set about her work immediately. Business as usual, and for Alkor, that suited him just fine. When she pulled the map data, he glanced it over thoughtfully.

Not much had changed about the topography, but it felt like other things were in flux. At one time, there was no danger from the Gryphon unless its nest was disturbed; but now, it seemed that wasn't the case. He frowned. What other things might be different when they got there?

"We should assume that the situation might be dangerous," he said. "If there is a mechanic like that at play, there's not much we can do other than get the hell out of the way. Best case scenario if we get grabbed, we get moved to the nest. Worst case scenario, death by fall damage." Alkor took a sip of his coffee and placed it back down on the table. If only they served booze. "I'd rather avoid either, honestly, so keeping an eye out is a big part of this. I think we should actually go up to the nest and see what's going on- or at least, get as close as we can. If you're willing to?"

She was ready to go, so he nodded and stood to follow her. "Figured I didn't need to ask, but formalities aren't a bad thing," he said with a shrug. 

With that, they headed to the teleporter, and to floor 7.

"Waruikedo, ano otokowa sono yōna kotode yoku shirarete imasu." Alkor's lips peeled up in a slight smile. For a Japanese person, blonde hair was general seen as symbolic of rebellion or delinquency. Since she spoke the language, and they were in a predominantly Japanese game, it was probably safe to assume she was either fluent or a native speaker; and if the latter, then they had at least one cultural faux pas in common. Because of that, he felt no real need to apologize for not initially introducing himself. He glanced back toward the waitstaff, who hurried a refill to his cup as he added, "if only he were as good at brewing coffee as he is flighty."

By then Hikoru had gone to check on something, but Alkor heard him faintly from an adjacent room as he sneezed. He closed his eyes for a moment, then when he reopened them, gold met silver. He'd seen an expression like that thousands of times. In a mirror, slammed into place by hammers wrought of determination, uneasiness, and anxiety. She was more a master than he was, admittedly. If not for the pencil spinning habit, he might not have noticed it at all.

He wouldn't speak on that. Instead, Alkor returned her formality. "Alkor," he gave his name. "In this situation, since the Broker was unlikely to divulge the information to us individual, I figured speeding up the process would serve both of our purposes better. You don't strike me as a woman who likes to have her time wasted," his gaze wandered to the pencil and lingered there a moment before they moved back up to make eye contact. Nonverbal cues were powerful, if used properly. Your impatience is showing.

"Which suits me perfectly, because I can relate to that. Now," Alkor took a sip of his coffee, letting the heat course down through his throat before he continued. Hikoru had returned by that time and seemed to have plotted everything perfectly to facilitate a conversation that only tangentially involved him. Of course he did. "Since everything is in order now, we can begin with your explanation of the rumor," he shifted the focus back to Hikoru, who looked almost exasperated in response.

"Right," he groaned, then coughed once. Then, "you know about the Eye, right? Floor seven, the peak of the highest mountain? Yeah, so, word is something strange has been going on up there, something dangerous- or, at least, spooky enough to make someone not want to investigate."

"Tell me you didn't pay someone who pissed their pants and ran away from a loud noise and you're trying to pass it off as Information," Alkor sighed. "Is business really that bad?"

"Quiet you," Hikoru hissed. "You know I don't just take info willy nilly. I'm actually proud of this job. Anyway, I went to collaborate the story myself, but you know, the whole Griffin that supposedly spawns up there thing- I didn't want to take the risk by myself. There's a lot of moving parts to this one."

Alkor studied the Broker for a time. There was honesty in his words, at least. He frowned. "Did you get close enough to confirm anything useful?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely a Griffin up there. Eagle head, Lion body, the whole 9. Word is that it circles the eye and swoops down if you happen to get too close. Not sure that there's much else to it than that, but that seems pretty bad to me. Also- there's been a few Players who went up there and never came back down."

He glanced to Ariel and caught her eye for a second before he turned his attention back to Hikoru. "Could be related to the Griffin," Alkor suggested, "but that would mean it was able to move a lot more freely than people previously thought."

"The game has changed around us," Hikoru shrugged. "Nothing we used to know is certain anymore. Anyways, I gotta get back to work- other clients to talk to, you know? Let me know what you find out, I'll pay you for the trouble, as usual."

Hikoru left the table in a hurry, and Alkor folded his hands on top of it. 

"You ready to check it out?" he asked. No reason to waste any more time guessing or wondering.

His gaze moved sideways toward the woman Hikoru indicated, and he watched as she quickly recovered from her blunder. Unintentional movements were rare among the stronger Players in Aincrad. It meant something had caught her off guard. Alkor couldn't tell by looking at her just how powerful she was, but he could hazard a guess. 

If Hikoru knew who she was, she was probably one of the Frontliners. "Loud and clear," he said as he stood up. "Then at this point, the conversation is much better served if we just include her, right?" he questioned. 

"Yeah," the Broker shrugged. "Just needed an excuse to make you suggest it."

Alkor blinked. What a surprisingly petty notion from the King of Secrets. The two of them must not have gotten along in the past. With a series of quick blinks, he dismissed his amusement and started toward the blonde woman's table. Hikoru fell into step behind him, and when Alkor sat down, the Information Dealer stood above the table without coming too close.

"So," Alkor said without properly introducing himself. By this point, everyone was almost certainly on the same page. The First Sword would give a proper handshake and his name once Hikoru was out of the picture. "About that rumor..."

Alkor's gaze moved toward Hikoru expectantly, which placed the pressure  and spotlight entirely on him. The other man gave a long, heavy sigh. He'd wanted to avoid undue attention. Ah, well...

3 hours ago, Oscar said:

Current Level: N/A
Current SP: N/A
Link to SP Tracking: N/A
Item Upgrades:

2.6 | PRE-CONVERSION	3.0 | UPGRADED
ITEM #1 Item Name: Money Shot Item ID: 155241a - 155978/155979/155980 Item Tier: 3 Item Type: Two-Handed Battleaxe Item Rarity: Perfect Item Enhancements: Abs.Acc/Acc/Bld Description: A gilded weapon of a jagged edge fitted on only one side. White and gold and frankly a bit gaudy, each strike sounds like a handful of coins falling to the floor.	Item Name: Money Shot  Item Tier: 4 Item Type: War Hammer Item Enhancements: Abs.Acc/Acc/Bld Description: A gilded weapon of a jagged edge fitted on only one side. White and gold and frankly a bit gaudy, each strike sounds like a handful of coins falling to the floor.

Approved

On 3/28/2021 at 7:22 AM, Bistro said:

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Item Name:	Dragon's Breath
Profession:	Alchemist | Rank 10
ID | Rolls:	ID: 187062 | CD: 12 | LD: 1 | Success! (Perfect) ID: 187065 | CD: 11 | LD: 9 | Success! (Perfect) ID: 187066 | CD: 11 | LD: 5 | Success! (Perfect) ID: 187068 | CD: 11 | LD: 19 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 4 ID: 187070 | CD: 12 | LD: 17 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 3 ID: 187072 | CD: 12 | LD: 8 | Success! (Perfect) ID: 187080 | CD: 12 | LD: 17 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 3
Item Type:	Tier 1 Perfect Potion
Enhancements:	Crafter's Respite
Description:	A signature concoction of the Cintamani. There are no signs of liquid in this vial, only a swirl of periwinkle smoke seems to sit at the flask's center. When taken, however, it tastes of cool air, revitalizing the drinker's wakefulness and urges them to continue crafting; an alluring call from a foreign muse.
Post Link:	[28/3/21]

  Hide contents

Item Name:	Divinity's Wait
Profession:	Alchemist | Rank 10
ID | Rolls:	ID: 188373 | CD: 12 | LD: 20 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 4 ID: 188374 | CD: 11 | LD: 4 | Success! (Perfect) ID: 188375 | CD: 11 | LD: 9 | Success! (Perfect) ID: 188377 | CD: 11 | LD: 7 | Success! (Perfect) ID: 188383 | CD: 11 | LD: 16 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 3 ID: 188387 | CD: 11 | LD: 8 | Success! (Perfect) ID: 188391 | CD: 11 | LD: 14 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 2 ID: 188394 | CD: 11 | LD: 4 | Success! (Perfect)
Item Type:	Tier 4 Perfect Potion
Enhancements:	Mitigation III
Description:	"You see right through me." A bottle of white translucent liquid. It tastes like milk, though it flows like water. Its effects are unnoticeable until pain kicks in, numbing the sensation even further than the system had originally intended.
Post Link:	[14/4/21]

  Hide contents

Item Name:	Dragon's Breath
Profession:	Alchemist | Rank 10
ID | Rolls:	ID: 188473 | CD: 11 | LD: 6 | Success! (Perfect) ID: 188482 | CD: 12 | LD: 17 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 3 ID: 188488 | CD: 12 | LD: 10 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 2 ID: 188492 | CD: 12 | LD: 20 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 4 ID: 188493 | CD: 11 | LD: 10 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 2 ID: 188496 | CD: 12 | LD: 18 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 3
Item Type:	Tier 1 Perfect Potion
Enhancements:	Crafter's Respite
Description:	A signature concoction of the Cintamani. There are no signs of liquid in this vial, only a swirl of periwinkle smoke seems to sit at the flask's center. When taken, however, it tastes of cool air, revitalizing the drinker's wakefulness and urges them to continue crafting; an alluring call from a foreign muse.
Post Link:	[15/4/21]

  Hide contents

Item Name:	Dragon's Breath
Profession:	Alchemist | Rank 10
ID | Rolls:	ID: 188666 | CD: 12 | LD: 10 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 2 ID: 188672 | CD: 11 | LD: 19 | Success! (Perfect) | Yield: 4 ID: 188678 | CD: 12 | LD: 7 | Success! (Perfect) ID: 188687 | CD: 12 | LD: 9 | Success! (Perfect)
Item Type:	Tier 1 Perfect Potion
Enhancements:	Crafter's Respite
Description:	A signature concoction of the Cintamani. There are no signs of liquid in this vial, only a swirl of periwinkle smoke seems to sit at the flask's center. When taken, however, it tastes of cool air, revitalizing the drinker's wakefulness and urges them to continue crafting; an alluring call from a foreign muse.
Post Link:	[16/4/21]

Total:

• [28/03/21] | TIER 1 | (14) | Dragon's Breath
• [14/04/21] | TIER 4 | (13) | Divinity's Wait
• [15/04/21] | TIER 1 | (15) | Dragon's Breath
• [16/04/21] | TIER 1 | ( 8) | Dragon's Breath

Approved

On 4/14/2021 at 4:05 PM, iris said:

[Cosmic Devourer+0]

Reroll count: 1 -> 1,000col
Final product: [Cosmic Devourer+1] | ABS. ACC, ACC, ACC

[Weathered White Duster+0]

Reroll count: 4 -> (1000 + 2000 + 4000 + 8000) = 15,000col
Final product: [Weathered White Duster+4] | MIT, LM, HB

[Tsukuyomi's Odachi (Alpha)+0]

Reroll count: 5 -> (1000 + 2000 + 4000 + 8000 + 16000) = 31,000col
Final product: [Tsukuyomi's Odachi (Alpha)+5] | FLN, ACC II

[Tsukuyomi's Odachi (Beta)+0]

Reroll count: 5 -> (1000 + 2000 + 4000 + 8000 + 16000) = 31,000col
Final product: [Tsukuyomi's Odachi (Beta)+5] | FLN, ACC, KEEN

[Acid Rain Coat+0]

Reroll count: 3 -> (1000 + 2000 + 4000) = 7,000col
Final product: [Acid Rain Coat+3] | HB, EVA II

Total: 1000 + 7000 + 15000 + (31000 * 2) = 85,000col

Approved

10 hours ago, Macradon said:

Name: Neptune's Tidings
Your Profession: Blacksmith
Your Rank: 10
ID: 12
Roll: 188602
Item Type: Weapon - Claw
Tier: 3
Quality: Perfect
Enhancements: DMG | DMG | DMG
Description: hen equipped, gives the wearer the ability to eviscerate surronding enemies. Comes with an inscription in the native language of Atlantis that says "The Raging Oceans sends their regards."  [image] 39.83 kB · 0 downloads
Post Link: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/1065-shop-f1the-blazing-typhoon-rank-10-grand-master-blacksmith/?do=findComment&comment=639419

 

2 hours ago, Macradon said:

Name: Tactical Under Armor
Your Profession: Blacksmith
Your Rank: 10
ID:  188642
Roll: 10+1=11
Item Type: Heavy Armor
Tier: 4
Quality: Perfect
Enhancements: MIT | MIT | MIT
Description: At first glance, the most pliable of cloth. Looking closer, one can see the dense collection of almost microscopic chainmail rings. The design allows this armor to be worn under one's clothes, but provides the same protection as the stoutest of plate.
Post Link: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/1065-shop-f1the-blazing-typhoon-rank-10-grand-master-blacksmith/?do=findComment&comment=639477

Approved

On 4/14/2021 at 9:48 AM, NIGHT said:

Spoiler

Item Name:	Obsidian Shard Necklace
Profession:	Artisan | Rank 10
Roll Result:	ID: 188096 | CD: 12 (11+1) | Success! (Perfect)
Item Type:	Tier 4 Perfect Trinket
Enhancements:	EVASION I, RECOVERY II
Description:	Tied with a leather strap, this necklace dangles a small black shard of obsidian, held in safety with a silver metal band.
Post Link:	[12/4/21]

Total

• [12/4/21] | Obsidian Shard Necklace | [188096]

---

Applying to [link] Gungir's Shard:

Missing You | TIER 3 PERFECT SUPPORT SONG | INSTANT | HP RECOVERY III
| [obtainment]: [link]
| [desc]: [ref]

Approved

"Honestly, I'm a little disappointed," Alkor said quietly. "Of all the people I know, he was the least likely to succumb to depression. Or at least, that's how he always seemed. Maybe it's true what they say, that the people who smile brightest are the ones with the most to hide." Their personalities were like fire and ice. All the time they knew each other, Evan ran counter to virtually everything Thom stood for. Quiet, level headed, and focused versus loud, hot tempered, and erratic. Both of them were good, both at different things. The main thing that kept them glued together was that they could balance each other out. "I know he's going to do great, though."

He slowly stood and turned toward the exit. His respects were quiet and never lengthy, but they helped him sort through his thoughts. If he remembered his actions, he wouldn't be likely to repeat them. That was the logic he used to dictate his actions. It wasn't because he was sentimental. Not like Evan. The man had clung hard to the memory of his family and let it hold him back. Alkor dove right in absently, obsessive. The game was more of a challenge for him than a setback. This kind of world was built for him, as a gamer.

Someone who lived with a family who cared for him, someone who had a halfway decent upbringing couldn't empathize with the struggle that had turned Alkor into a NEET. That was one of the reasons that they clashed so hard. Alkor didn't seem to care about anything from the outside looking in, and Corvo had an overbearing personality. They bickered and fought, but when they worked together, they handled things extremely well. Alkor knew the things that Corvo was suited to, and Corvo was exceptionally reliable in a pinch. They were perfect compliments. 

But now, what would happen? They weren't working together this time. They couldn't create a plan, nor could they optimize. Evan had essentially told him, I want to make it on my own. He wanted to prove his worth.

For once, Thom respected that decision tremendously.

Perspective: Alkor, at the Monument 

As Corvo left, Alkor turned back to the Monument and sat down on his knees. There were lessons to learn, from the living and from the dead. Corvo was an exercise in patience, in understanding. They were opposite personalities. Alkor was a quieter, meeker, yet driven individual while Corvo wanted the whole world, and he wanted it his way. Both of them understood the value of hard work and determination, but they applied that knowledge in vastly different ways. Truthfully, when Alkor had heard that one of his friends was alive and trapped in the game with them, he'd hoped that the other man had shown strength of spirit and a resilience to the Death Game. From what he'd just seen, the other man had fallen prey to it in totality, and it had skewed him further down a dark road.

Alkor couldn't follow him down it. He respected him, even loved him as a friend; but there were some things that even friends couldn't sacrifice. For Alkor, being that bright light had become part of who he was. He wanted to save others. He wanted to share the mercy and grace he'd seen. Now, he had friends on the other side.

"Honestly, even though you hate it when people set expectations, I can't help but anticipate great things when you go popping off with shit like 'I'm gonna be the King,' Ev. I bet you will, too. I know when you say something, you mean every word. That's why we make such good friends," Alkor mused as he reached down and grabbed a stick of incense that rested in front of the monument like a sacred altar, and he ignited it carefully. He held the herb out and upright, slowly and methodically moving it to waft in front of the names that represented the souls of the departed. Thankfully, Corvo's name didn't populate on that list.

Thankfully, neither did his own.

"Now I guess I've got expectations of my own to live up to," he sighed, both eyes now closed. "You've always had a way of making me step outside my comfort zone, haven't you?"

He wanted to speak, but he understood and respected the other man's tenacity. Since they'd known each other for so long, he knew that Evan wasn't the type to flinch on something like this. If he felt that seriously, the most he could do was begrudgingly agree. "I get it," he said, more quietly. There was a part of him that was sad they'd be parting so soon after finding each other again, a few years later. Sad, but excited to see what would come out of it when Corvo finally got serious. The other Player had spent so much time wallowing that he'd forgotten how to live. His rage, his sadness, his empty spirit all made sense and were justified- but if he had nothing to use that fuel for burning, he was just burning himself out.

"I wanna see grandma, too. I know the odds aren't in my favor, but I at least want to put my best foot forward. I know that's the same for you. When you get out, you want your dad to be proud, right?" Alkor knew there was more to it with Corvo's family. How protective they were, and how vehemently they'd been against him playing Sword Art Online- they'd be overprotective, and they'd never want him to play another video game again. But Corvo was too strong of a personality to simply fold under that pressure. If nothing else, this whole experience would have given the man wings with which to fly toward the sun. He'd become the Icarus he was always trying to fashio"n out of himself.

"Just don't forget that I'm here if you need me, man," he said, a bit more softly.

"I'm not relying on you," Corvo said as he turned away and waved a hand. "I'm through with blaming other people, and getting mad at a world that doesn't care how I feel. It's done taking from me. I'm done letting it. I'm going to be the King of this fuckin' castle, Cap. Just you wait."

"The King, huh?" Alkor smirked. Leave it to Evan to come up with the most ridiculous statement in the room. "I can't wait to see that."

"When you see me again, it's gonna be on the Frontlines," Corvo told the man, shooting a smile back over his shoulder. "And by then, better or worse, whatever I've become, I hope I'll have made my family proud."

"One of us already is," Alkor smirked.

Corvo gave a shrug, turned away, and walked toward the door.

"Think nothing of it," Alkor waved a hand dismissively. "It's important that every Player in this world does their part to make things a little safer for everyone else. That's what I think, anyway." He took a look around at the garden and ran a hand through his golden hair thoughtfully. "But, you did kind of get lucky. I'm not here to do the quest myself or anything, I just came to get a good look around since the latest update drastically changed everything about this damn castle It's good to have as much information as you can get, and sometimes you just can't get the information you want from a broker."

He turned his gaze back toward Randal, who'd given his name and now seemed to think he owed Alkor a favor. "I'm Alkor," he introduced himself. "But you don't need to worry about paying me back or anything like that. Every life this damn game doesn't manage to take is a win to me. That includes yours." He slid his weapon back into its sheath and offered his hand to the other man. "If you need anything, or you want to run quests, there's request boards in town that you can use to form groups. It's safer to take on larger, more difficult quests with a group than to try to take on the world by yourself. Trust me, I've learned that lesson the hard way."

Alkor didn't take time to worry about the dragon's health. At this point, it was far beyond survival. As it's form slowly withered toward oblivion, he watched the other Player interact with the creature. Nothing would delay the inevitable for Nemo now, slowly fading in the company of the flowers that he loved so much. It was almost sad, or would have been if Alkor knew anything about this place. All he knew was that there was an enemy trying to kill a Player, and that was cassus belli.

When it came to lives in Aincrad, those who were logged in and trapped took absolute precedence over those who were automated parts of the system. That was clear and cut for Alkor. Even if the creature was mostly pacifistic by nature- it had erred. He watched as the beast relinquished a strange gem, which Alkor would have liked a better look at, but he stayed silent. It was up to the other Player to engage with him. He'd already thanked Alkor, and for the Knight, that was more than enough.

"Are you done here?" he asked the other man. "If so, I'll walk with you to the exit just to make sure that you make it out alright."

Nemo: 10/515  HP 162 Damage 75 (-20) Mit  0  Eva [Blight 32 (1/2),  Bleed 48 (10/2)]

[10]  Alkor: 740/740 HP 95/108 EN Base Damage: 19 Mit: 30 Acc: 4 Eva: 3 Blight: 32 [afflicted target loses 20 Mitigation for duration] Bleed: 48 Paralyze
[0] Randal:  297/440 HP 49/65 EN 11 Dmg 20 Mit 3 Acc 4 Eva

"Oh, yeah, that's mature," Alkor slumped down the face of the monument and took a seat. "Look, man, I'm sorry that I suck at communicating, and I'm sorry that it came this far and got this bad. I wish there was something I could do to make up for all of it, but honestly, I know that's unrealistic. I just want to find a way to make things better. If you're willing to do that."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure that we're on the same page," Corvo snapped. "If you think saying your sorry makes me feel any better, you're still a child. This is gonna take a long time for me to even begin to work through. But," he lowered his voice now, so quiet that if anyone entered, they wouldn't hear him. "I am glad you're not dead, I guess."

Alkor snorted. "Yeah, okay," he chuckled. "You know what? I'll take that. That's more than you usually give me to work with."

"You haven't built the guild in this wretched hellhole, have you?" Corvo asked.

Alkor shook his head. "Nope. Just ain't the same without you guys," he said. "Some bonds run deeper than guilds, and I ain't about to spit on that by recycling it for Aincrad."

Corvo closed his eyes. "You sad sack of shit. Sappy, always sappy lines."

"So, what do you plan on doing now?" Alkor asked. "You can't just keep going on like... that."

"The fuck you trying to say?" Corvo narrowed his eyes.

It felt like a hot knife lancing through his chest. The words, far more than the vicious onslaught by Corvo, made Thom want to scream back. He understood all too well what it felt like to be alone, but he couldn't relate to the hardships that his friend described. All he could understand was the feeling of betrayal, and yet, Alkor had become so good at that during his time in Aincrad. First Lessa, and now Corvo. He was better at running away than he was confronting his problems.

But he was done with that.

"So what?" he asked, "I die, and you magically feel better?"

"No," Corvo seethed, "but it's a start."

"To what?" he questioned the man. "Are you even thinking about what you're saying? You want the only person who knows who you are, your only connection to the world outside, dead? You want everything that you've been wanting for two years to die for what? Self-satisfaction?"

"Maybe I do." Corvo bristled as he punched the monument once more, this time inches from Alkor's face. "Maybe all I've got left is that anger. I don't know anymore."

"Then why even bother struggling?" he asked calmly. More than anything, Corvo seemed infuriated that Alkor was so calm in the face of this anger. His eye twitched as the Knight continued. "Why survive in this hell for all this time if you've taken leave of your wits? Other people have tossed themselves off the edge. They've gone and let enemies batter them until they were flecks of data, only remembered by the wall of text behind me. You could have done that, too. You could have given up any time. If you're really so empty, what was the point?"

"Because," Corvo whispered. Then, his voice rose again. "Because I've got my family's pride to consider, asshole. Unlike you, there are people who are proud to call me their son. They're looking on with hope for me to make something of my life. And here you are, my friend, and I decide to throw advancement aside for the sake of spending time with you and the boys. I picked my friends over my family. You know what my family means to me."

Corvo sobbed, unbidden. "You were family to me."