[PP-F24] The meaning of...

[Alkor 0]

After the Battle...

He stood there for a long moment, quietly. The light that filtered in through the windows and the fixtures above burned his eyes as he stared straight upward, gaze fixed on the ceiling. What had he come to this place to do, if not to challenge himself? Why, in the face of defeat, did he not just quietly accept? He had run from the beast that hunted him, that anxiety, so many times before. He managed to wear a mask over it, to push others away, and in the loneliness that followed he manage to convince himself that he had disconnected from the pain. The pain never left him, though. Every time, it returned, sometimes even stronger than before. In this last fight, all the demons came out to play at once. The overbearing voice of his father broke through the hold, and instead of fighting Lessa and climbing higher on wings of victory, he now stood in contemplation of his defeat.

This defeat was quieter than any one of his victories. The restless voices were still at last, a gentle calm that came after a long and relentless storm. How long had he believed that for a brief instant of validation, he had to endure a lifetime of criticism? How long had he believed that no victory would ever be enough? And now, without scoring even a single point, he could not bring himself to be disappointed.

His shoulders sagged, and he released the breath he forgot he had been holding. He blinked and looked away from the light, rubbing at his face, shaking off his dazed expression.

Quote

"Will you tell me what you're fighting for? Not just 'to win in duels' or 'to beat the game' - but what's at the heart of it. For as long as I've known you, you've been consumed by this endless need to be the best. Is there a place where you'll ever be satisfied? Where you can just acknowledge how far you've come? Because you are so, so much stronger than the Alkor I met in the Town of Beginnings, but in so many ways, you haven't changed at all. What will happen when you run out of people to compare yourself to?"

He had an answer now. At least, a better answer than nothing. He understood just a little more about what drove him to search for validation, even if it formed a thousand new questions in his mind. 

"Do I have to change?" he asked. "Will what I am never be enough? Not just for you, but for anyone?"

His eyes found Lessa, a small, soft smile on his face. "If I don't fight, every voice that told me I was useless wins. Every person who has ever told me that I am a failure, they're just right. There was a time when I accepted it, and I lived in my room with the door shut and locked up tight while life passed me by. I didn't meet new people, I didn't help anyone, and I couldn't possibly have saved anyone. If I'd never entered this game, I might have kept going like that forever. I might have died, old and alone, and never known that there was a different way to live."

Alkor staggered slowly, still numb to sensation as reality struck him. It was real. He was here, everything had happened, but he wasn't breaking down. He had weathered that storm and found himself at rest in a motionless sea. Him, Lessa, and no one else. He discarded the bokken to the side of the mat where someone else could find and use it later. "Then it happened. I was here. I couldn't escape to my room. There were people I had to meet, had to work together with- there were things I had to do that made me uncomfortable, and if I refused, the only alternative was to die. Work with others, learn to coexist with others, or die. I thought I wasn't afraid of death, but every time I came close, I realized that no one is ever ready for it. Even at the end of their life, I imagine that no one is prepared to let go of what they know and go on to something else- something we're not even sure about."

When he finally glanced back at Lessa, his golden eyes were weary, like he had been holding on to something heavy for so long and he was finally ready to rest.

"There's still so much I don't know," he admitted, "still so much I've got to learn. But my enemy isn't something so simple to overcome. It's not any number of opponents in a ring, or mobs spawned across the face of this world. I could fight those things to the point of exhaustion, but they would never yield a favorable result. In the end, I don't see anyone else. I don't want to be anything other than what I am. The best possible version of myself." He hesitated for a moment before he finally admitted, "I'm just waiting for the day that the rest of the world can accept that, as it is."

Spoiler

Stats

Level 32 // Paragon 30

780/780 HP  114/114 EN

23 Base Damage 30 Mitigation

5 Accuracy 3 Evasion 

32 Blight Damage (20 Mitigation loss for duration) 

48 Bleed Damage

Paralyze

42 Battle Healing 

Survival (10% increase to healing effects applied)

Equipment:

Witchfang : Tier 4 Demonic One Handed Straight Sword // CURSED / BLIGHT / BLEED / PARALYZE

"Forged from the fang of a Black Dragon, this blade promises ruin to those who are struck by it. The blade's edge is fashioned of Obsidian andinvested with a myriad of afflictions."

Cloak of the Wanderer : Tierless Perfect Light Armor // EVASION / EVASION / EVASION

 "Tattered from the wear of many battles, this cloak was once worn by a warrior who faced the trials of the Castle and through the flames found the strength to walk again."

Eye of Osiris : Tierless Perfect Accessory // ACCURACY / ACCURACY / ACCURACY

"A pin fashioned in the style of Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, depicting the eye of the god Osiris."

Skills, Mods, Addons:

<<One Handed Straight Sword>> rank 5
<<One Handed Straight Sword>> Ferocity Addon  
Stamina Addon 
Precision Addon 

<<Light Armor>> rank 5 
Meticulous Mod
Resolve Mod

<<Battle Healing>> rank 5
Emergency Recovery Mod 
Energist

Combat Mastery: Damage   
ST Specialist Combat Shift 

Charge 
Parry

Extra Skill: Survival

 

Edited February 19, 2022 by Alkor

[Lessa 1]

꧁༺Lessa༻꧂   Lessa, Guardian of Aincrad Level: 31 Paragon Level: 47 HP: 800/800 EN: 118/118 Stats: Damage: 28 Mitigation: 142 Accuracy: 4 Battle Healing: 44 H.M.: 8 HLY: 8 REC: 8 THRNS: 72 Equipped Gear: Weapon: Arcael's Might (T4 THSS - DMG DMG DMG HLY) Armor: Empress Armor (T4 HA - HM HM THNS THNS) Misc: Neutron Star Necklace (T4 TRINKET - ACC ACC REC REC) Skills: Straight Sword R5 Heavy Armor R5 Battle Healing R5 Energist Fighting Spirit Charge Active Mods: Impetus Emergency Recovery Justified Riposte   Addons: Iron Skin Ferocity Stamina Active Extra Skills: Parry Survival   Battle Ready Inventory: Teleportation Crystal x5 Mass HP Recovery Crystal x2 Housing Buffs: Well Rested: -1 energy cost for the first three expenditures of each combat Clean: The first time you would suffer DoT damage in a thread, reduce damage taken from DoT each turn by 20% (rounded down) Relaxed: Increases out of combat HP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts. Col Stash: +5% bonus col from monster kills and treasure chests Advanced Training: +10% Exp to a thread. Limit one use per month [1/1] Multipurpose: Gain +1 to LD, Stealth Rating, Stealth Detection, or Prosperity to one post in a thread. Can be applied after a roll Guild Hall Buffs: Helping Hand: Lowest-leveled guild member receives +10 bonus Exp at the end of the thread. At least half of the thread's participants must be guild members. Limit one use per month, per character. [1/1]

 

Like a man emerging from a trance, Alkor blinked owlishly against the bright sunlight. Lessa waited patiently as he scrubbed his face, allowing him the time to process her question. In truth, she expected the man to dismiss it, and her, altogether. He'd just lost a duel without scoring a single point, and the conversation throughout had been far from pleasant. Her final question, inappropriate in both its timing and personal nature, had likely broken the proverbial camel's back. Surprise registered clearly on Lessa's face as the man she had considered the Fort Knox of emotions began to speak.

Do I have to change?, he asked her, and the simple question cut like a blade through her heart. It might be best if you did, came her knee-jerk response, but Lessa silenced that line of thinking. In fact, she blocked out every other sound, color, and flurry of movement in the dojo. She saw only his face, and the picture his words slowly painted her. A lifetime of competition, orchestrated by his parents. Those who were responsible for forging him, shaping him into the man he would become. The result was a sleek, sharp, deadly blade with a stress crack straight down its center.

How could they do that to him? How could those closest to him make such a demand? How could they expect him to become someone he's not, simply to fit their own image of what he should be. What would make them more comfortable.

Guilt slammed through her with so much force that it tore the breath from her lungs.

"Alkor," she began slowly, his name falling strangely from her dry mouth and chapped lips. "Would you mind if we took a walk? Just get out of here for a while." At his agreement, Lessa turned her back on the other duels, the fighters, the spectators. While she felt their gazes on her retreating frame, likely waiting to celebrate her victory, she found she didn't have the energy for any of it. She felt rung out, exhausted, and more than a little nauseous. Alkor likely felt even worse.

Lessa didn't turn, but she sensed him beside her as they left the tidy dojo, and emerged into the sun-warmed, flower-scented air. She found she couldn't look at him. How selfish of her, to focus on her own misfortunes after Alkor had finally, finally, confided in her? Making it about herself, and all the ways that she had wronged him, would likely earn her a Worst Friend of the Year award. But would locking those feelings away do us any favors, either? 

Find a balance.

That was one thing she and Alkor had never seemed to be able to do.

"No, you don't have to change."

Finally, atop the pretty bridge that connected two little islands, she turned to him. "If this is a part of who you are, and a part you're content with, then no one should ask you to change. Least of all, me." She had hoped to formulate a response on their walk, but found the words simply would not come. So Lessa did what she had a tendency to do anyway - she spoke directly from the heart. "There's a lot that I need to learn, too. How to better protect my heart, for one. How to ground myself when I feel like I'm drifting. How to cook." The smile that quirked her lips fell away as quickly as it came. "Maybe the most important thing I need to learn, at least where you're concerned, is what you need."

"I don't understand you," she stated, then lifted a cautionary hand. "I don't mean that as an insult or anything. What I mean is that I don't know how your mind works. You've always been a mystery to me, but I always attributed that to some elusive, mysterious persona. Like you had locked your heart away in some castle, and all I had to do was bust down those walls to really know you. To learn your secrets." Though she had meant to keep her emotions in check, pain twisted her face, and regret swam in her wide eyes. "I romanticized it, of course. I thought I could be your shining light, or your savior, or some other bullshit. The truth is, maybe I saw you as some sort of conquest. I think that's why it hurt so bad when you left. I thought I'd lost. I thought she'd beat me to you. That she'd succeeded where I'd failed."

As if coming to her senses, Lessa drove the heels of her hands into her eyes. "I don't mean to make this about myself, or bring any of that back up again, especially after everything you told me. And I'm not trying to be all 'Chivalrous Lessa' and take the blame to make you feel better. I just want you to know, need you to know, that I can't stand here and criticize those people who tried to make you something you weren't. Because I was one of them."

[Alkor 0]

Fatigue sank into his body as they walked. He felt lightheaded, physically drained. The path they trudged led away from the group, and the heavy gazes that only made him even more uneasy. When the sunlight hit them and they were away from prying eyes, he finally felt some stability. What came next was unscripted- it had to be. He knew that because of how many times they had this conversation, or some iteration of it, where Lessa spoke with utmost certainty that she knew a better way. Her way. Alkor had admired her way- but it had never been his way. He was ready to hear it again, but it never came.

Quote

"No, you don't have to change."

His sigh was heavy, so heavy. It felt like he had been waiting for a lifetime for anyone to say those words. He slumped against the railing of the bridge and his legs gave out beneath him. Reclined with only the intricately carved wood to support his weight, Alkor soaked in the sunlight. Unlike the comfort of his room, the solitary and unending darkness supported by blackout curtains, the warmth of the sun brought a cleansing feeling. He did not need to crawl beneath sheets to seek it.  When he opened his eyes, they shared the heat of the sun that was reflected in them. She started to talk about what he needed again, and he felt like laughing. Was she still going to be on about that? About what she had to do? Maybe for Lessa, that was how she approached every issue, like there was a solution and she just had to find it. Alkor didn't see a world filled with questions and answers. That was, perhaps, one of the most fundamental differences between them.

Quote

I thought I could be your shining light, or your savior, or some other bullshit. The truth is, maybe I saw you as some sort of conquest. I think that's why it hurt so bad when you left. I thought I'd lost. I thought she'd beat me to you. That she'd succeeded where I'd failed."

"If you find 'me,' please tell me about it," he said honestly, "tell me what that's like. Tell me what he's like, because even I haven't found him yet."

The battle Lessa yearned to understand, to know so much about, was such a simple thing. There was nothing elaborate about Alkor. The only elaborate aspect of him were monumental walls he put up around himself to keep anyone else from reaching him. Beyond that, the conflict was exactly as he'd stated before. There was only one enemy, and it shared his face.

He'd constructed and worn a mask for so long, when it finally came off, there was another beneath it. Like one of those Russian dolls, every layer was a face he'd learned to wear for someone else. Every layer was a lie that he told to placate the expectations. Who he was beyond that, people only caught a glimpse of when he was in the throes of combat when he threw himself headlong into the fight and looked for the distant answer to the question, "am I worthy?"

Worthy of what?

To live. To exist. To continue where others haven't been able, simply because he was still alive. Where people who knew what they wanted, who knew who they were and had families, friends, loved ones- had died- Alkor remained. 

Thom, the Player, the being with a consciousness and the ability to reason, had no specific or tangible personality. He was a beast, a creature that existed on instinct and adapted to its surroundings to survive. But if that had kept him alive for this long, was it wrong? Did it mean that he did not deserve what he had? He did not want to die. He learned that when he looked death in the face. He did not want to change. He refused, again and again. That was the answer he found. The only one he had to give.

"My conflict might never end, Lessa," he answered her initial question at last. "I just want to know the people around me accept that, and don't expect anything else."

[Lessa 1]

For a moment, all Lessa could do was stare at him. She had just confessed to treating him like a trophy, not a human being, and he hadn't batted an eye. In fact, he seemed to ignore her words entirely, simply latching on to what she considered a less important part of her speech. Even his closing statement, my conflict might never end, felt like the echo of a long-ago declaration. How many times had she heard him speak those words, or similar ones? How many times had she attempted to change his mind, to provide comfort, to offer guidance. Her lips parted to do so again, but only a slow exhaled slipped past. If he were a broken record, what did that make her? And if he didn't care about her sins... well, then why should she?

Shifting so her back rested against the bridge's railing, she meant to mimic his stance. Instead, she simply let herself slip down the ornately carved wood. Her head rolled back with a gentle thunk, and she closed her eyes as she mulled over Alkor's reaction. It hadn't been what she'd expected, but then again, why should that surprise her? 

She'd apologized. Or, at least, drifted into the vicinity of an apology before Alkor skated over her. Her train of thought, laden with anecdotes and advice, plunged off the tracks and into a nearby ravine. As it burst into flame, Lessa realized she had nothing else to say to him. Was he hoping she'd say something else? 

"Alright." For the second time in the span of an hour, it was all she could muster. But this time, the single word felt uncomfortable as it hung in the air, as if she would have been better off staying quiet.

Unsettled, her hands worried the fabric cinched across her waist. Why, even now, did she feel like every move she made near him was the wrong one? Friendships couldn't exist on eggshells. Still, she found herself coming back to him, time and time again. Did that mean he was worth the anxiety? On her imaginary scale, did Alkor outweigh the negative feelings that he often brought out in her? Or was it her responsibility to simply stop overthinking everything?

"I won't go looking for 'you' anymore," she stated when the silence finally grew too oppressive. "At this point, I don't think it's a journey either of us want me to go on."

[Alkor 0]

This marked as quiet as Lessa had ever been around him. She was always filled with questions, she always wanted to know more. She sought to understand things. The woman was filled with so much passion and warmth and she had gone looking for something she thought was hidden, only to find that it was never there to begin with. When Lessa apologized, Alkor had felt no need to accept or even acknowledge the apology- because for Alkor, there was nothing to apologize for. She, like so many others had acted in the same way. They expected- even at times demanded of him- something he did not have the power or capability to give. For Alkor, silence was comfortable. It was companionable. It occurred to him that this was not true of everyone, especially when Lessa awkwardly cut in to continue.

"What is a friend, Lessa?" he asked, suddenly. 

"My parents always told me that I should make friends, and that being alone was painful, awful, undesirable. They said that one day, when I wasn't home anymore, when I was older, if I didn't have friends, I would be sad. Life would be hard." Alkor glanced over his shoulder to the water. "But when I met new people, they always wanted to 'know more about me,' or 'understand me,' or they wanted to have deep and meaningful conversations about the things we cared about."

Alkor only had vague, abstract concepts of 'love.' His experiences with it were disjointed and even when he could see the shape of it, that shape never took on a definitive form. He saw Lessa's kindness, but in the same heartbeat, he was not enough as he was. Lessa wanted more, and she told him so- just now. That she would stop looking. Her voice sounded filled with defeat. Was this what friends were? 

"It's never been comfortable for me to just exist." He said those words firmly. "Everyone lives their lives so quickly, wrapped up in the things that they care about, fully understanding and conforming to society's notions of how they should be, or what they shouldn't do- and it's terrifying," Alkor let his arms drop and his body slumped against the rail. He pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them. "I've never felt like part of that world, even though I was born in it. I don't know what I want to be. I don't know who I am. I don't know anything," he reiterated.

"Isn't it okay, sometimes, just to be quiet and relax?" the man asked at last, eyes closed. "I ask myself every day, ever waking hour, who I want to be. I fight a war inside myself against the voices that tell me I'm not good enough, and the idea that I'll never amount to anything. Is it wrong of me to not want to answer those questions for other people? Is it wrong that I don't know what answers to give them?"

He sighed. "I don't know what you want from me," Alkor added, finally. "I have nothing to give you."

[Lessa 1]

Lessa tilted her face to the sun, focusing on the way it warmed her skin throughout Alkor’s dialogue. So many times, she wanted to interject. Every time, she caught herself before she could do so. He asked for quiet, even begged for it, when all she knew how to do was speak. He might as well have asked a bird to stay grounded, or a fish to cease its swimming. It was no wonder he drained her.

He fell silent, and for the longest time, she said nothing. A splatter of applause from the nearby dojo marked the end of another fight, and the twinkle of windchimes and gargle of a water feature painted a peaceful picture. An observer might think Lessa fit in, with her eyes closed, her face relaxed, her boots crossed at the ankles. They had no way of knowing the war that raged inside her. 

“I’m not sure what a friend is,” she admitted. “I figure it changes from person to person, because everyone has their own expectations. For me? Well, I know what it’s not. It’s not closeness. I’m not sure you and I have ever been close. If it’s not a malicious Player driving a wedge between us, it’s a murderous Hydra.” She smiled, but her voice held no amusement as she continued, “Hell, we’re sitting side by side, and I’m pretty sure I’d feel closer to someone in Antarctica.”

She drew a deep breath, filling her lungs with the floral air, then exhaled again. “And it’s definitely not understanding. I thought I’d begun to get to know you better, but I was wrong. And since you’re convinced there’s nothing to know, I won’t keep trying to get blood from a stone.”

Finally, finally, she opened her eyes. She turned her head so that she looked at him. And she shrugged. “But I will keep trying to be your friend. Because I think trying is what friendship is. It’s effort. It’s showing up. It’s fostering an environment where the other person never has to feel alone. It’s constantly answering the question ‘do I matter at all?’ Because yes, you do matter. If nothing else, if to no one else, you matter to me.”

Now for the hard part. The part that tore at her, and swirled like a storm in the pit of her stomach. “I do think friendship requires active participation on both sides, though. It’s not a game you can play alone, and trying to hold up both sides of a relationship always ends in disaster.” Her eyes found his, and for once, she didn’t find herself transported to another time. This moment was far too important. “So I’m going to ask you to meet me halfway. I know it will be hard for you, and that it’s a huge request, but I’m going to make it anyway. Because I’ve spent almost my entire time in Aincrad chasing people, and asking myself what I did to push them away. It’s a flaw of mine, I recognize that. But after Bahr disappeared, I realized I couldn’t keep trying to fit myself into someone else’s box. I wasn’t being true to myself. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t healthy.”

With a small flick of her fingers, she gestured to Alkor. “I guess, in that sense, we’re a lot alike. We’ve both felt like we needed to change who we were to make others more comfortable. When we first met, I felt like I had to constantly police myself around you. Damn it, I still feel that way. With Daeron, I had to pretend like I didn’t realize the games he played with me. And with Bahr… I’ve spent way too much time being understanding of things that I don’t understand. That I’m not comfortable with. That fly in the face of who I am and what I believe in.”

“So I’m going to ask you to be patient with me. There will be times when I offer advice, even when you don’t want it, because that’s what I’ve done all my life. I’ll probably ask you questions, or try to understand something, even though you don’t want that from me. And I’ll always wish, more than anything in the world, that you could just show me how you felt. But if you say there’s nothing there, I’ll try to accept it. I’ll just sit here, next to you, and let you just exist. I’m going to do my absolute best to respect your wishes, Alkor, because you mean something to me. I care about you. I have no idea if you feel the same, but I’m willing to try if it means this friendship moves forward. The thing is, I have to respect myself, too. I can’t turn my light off just because you prefer the dark.”

[Alkor 0]

He lifted himself off the bridge and turned to look out over the water as she spoke. Lessa answered his question as honestly as she could, and she came up with a better answer than he had despite claiming to know just as little. With his arms folded and his expression set in stone, he let her continue. She said that she'd spent so much time chasing people, she talked about pretending to be something she wasn't or doing something her heart wasn't in just to make others happy. It occurred to him, she understood his pain. Where he chose to cleave from expectation, Lessa had slaved herself to it. She'd become malleable and met every expectation placed on her, head on.

Regardless of whether or not it tore her apart inside.

Until this moment. She was telling him, flatly, that she refused to meet his expectations. She was refusing for her own good, her sanity, her happiness. Alkor couldn't possibly see fault in that. He gave a quiet sigh. A precious, handful of times in his life had anyone ever said that he meant something to them, and he still did not understand why. What it truly meant, or how he was supposed to feel- but what he did know, was that the ones who said it and truly meant it: those were people who cared if he lived, if he died, succeeded or failed.

He had known Lessa long enough, and she had persisted just as long, to pursue him. "Why do that to yourself?" he asked. For as long as he'd been alive, Alkor had fled society's expectations. He'd slammed doors in the faces of potential friends and enemies. Hell, even most of his family he kept at arm's length. Not just pain, but broken trust- all the things that disappointed him."Why even chase after something if it's just going to hurt you?"

He struggled to understand. It seemed so simple, so natural for Lessa to extend this olive branch. But as he looked at her, as he'd listened to her words, the woman sounded tired. It couldn't possibly be that she didn't feel all the same things he did. They had the same experiences. She just willfully walked a different path.

She was- as he'd always known- a much stronger person than him.

He let out a sigh, longer than any that preceded it. "No, forget that. Don't answer. I don't think I'd understand even if you did," he told her as he looked down to where she sat. "That's something I have to experience for myself. You're here, trying your hardest to just be my friend, even though it's exhausting. Even though I can't possibly imagine that you have anything to gain from it. You said you care about me, and even if I don't completely understand that, even if I don't get it-"

Alkor held out his hand, and offered to help her stand.

"I can't learn if I don't try."

[Lessa 1]

Even as Alkor corrected himself, and encouraged her not to answer his question, Lessa lifted a hand to quiet him. “No,” she interjected, “I’ll answer it, because I do think you’ll understand.” That same hand found his, and as he drew her to her feet in a swirl of blue fabric and blonde hair, she offered him a smile as warm as the sun-streaked sky. And even if the expression was a bit sad along the edges, it was still a smile. “It’s just instinct. It’s that voice, telling me that if people love me, I must be doing something right. And if they’ve left me, then I must have wronged them somehow.”

She dropped Alkor's hand, then shifted to lean out over the water. Studying it, she said, “I know it isn’t healthy, but I don’t figure it’s any different than fighting to drown out the critics.” Though she cut him a sly glance, she quickly returned her gaze to Baldur’s stunning estate. “I guess we all have our issues, don’t we? Mine just manifests in the form of needing people. Needing them to let me in, and needing them to accept me.” She paused to loose a short laugh, then shake her head again. “You and I,” Lessa began, “make quite the pair. You need people to accept you, too, but in a completely different way. You need them to keep their distance, but I…”

Lessa pressed a hand to her chest, the color draining from her fingertips as she dug them into the rough fabric. “I need to close that distance. I need to win them over, to show myself that I can. To prove to myself that I’m worthy of their time and attention. Basically, just to determine if I’m good enough to be their friend.”

As her hand moved to rub at the back of her neck, massaging the knots that never went away, she blew out a breath. “You’re right it hurts. It hurts like hell, chasing after someone who I know wouldn’t do the same for me. Because, yeah, nine times out of ten, they wouldn’t. But fighting to prove your worth, even just to yourself, must hurt sometimes, too. Maybe it’s just the pain that we choose for ourselves, because neither one of us is perfect. You could open yourself to the world, and I could close all my doors, but that just isn’t who we are. We’re different sides of the same token. I don’t think friendships like this are meant to work out, but if they do, it’s got to be something special.”

Lessa turned to study him for a moment, the uncertainty in her blue eyes betraying how carefully she weighed her next words. “I do think what we have is special, and not just because of the time that has passed. I’ve stopped romanticizing those old interactions, and if we’re being honest with ourselves, a lot of them weren’t really great. We weren’t even oil and water back then, we were like…” her voice trailed, and when she finally decided on the comparison, she gesticulated with both hands. “... two magnets with the same pole, blasting each other back whenever we got too close. We weren’t good for each other. But I have hope we can be now, because I have so much respect for you. I applaud your drive, though I don’t always understand it. I admire your kind heart, and your strong sense of justice. I appreciate your willingness to try, even if it’s hard. And hey, there aren’t too many people who I can just sit around and talk history with.”

She leaned over, and in a gesture that was so completely Lessa, gave Alkor a gentle shoulder bump. “You say I gain nothing from this friendship. I say anyone would be lucky to have you in their corner."
 

[Alkor 0]

He remembered most of the past, as much as he did not want to. There was a fundamental disconnect between them, even from the beginning. He recalled how she looked to lean on him for direction, and how he had no idea what to tell her. She'd hung on every word, like the advice he gave was good as gold. Here she was today, a heavy armored bruiser who hefted a two handed sword around. He remembered suggesting that. Survival combined with damage- the best of both worlds, without being directly in the line of fire as a tank.

Lessa had come far from that. She had made that advice into something of her own, and only the memory of it remained. It was the best thing he could think of to stay alive. Back then, that really was all there was. A desire to stay alive. A drive to keep others alive. Then came the rocky times Lessa alluded to. Alkor felt his smile fade a bit and he looked away when she started to compliment him immediately after talking about how positively opposed their ways were.

"We weren't," he remembered his words, dramatic though they were in retrospect. The way he'd called out for her to just let him go, because he was in agony over trying to be something he wasn't. He remembered how much she needed something he couldn't give. Now, these things were in the open- and it was better to be honest, he'd learned. "And maybe we never will be, but I'm not worried about it. I don't go looking for myself in anyone else. I don't think Alkor needs to be good for Lessa, or that Lessa has to be good for Alkor. What I do think, is that at the very least, we're not bad for each other anymore, and that's all that matters," he said, succinctly as he could.

"That understanding alone is enough."

Maybe it was disappointing to put it that way, but Alkor didn't want any false pretenses or disillusionment between them. Never again. "What we have to be is ourselves," he said finally.

If they were opposites, then their quest wasn't to compliment each other. It wasn't to tear one down so the other could thrive. The purpose of opposed forces in nature was to achieve balance. Alkor remembered that now. Where there was yin, there must also always be yang.

Unlike Lessa, Alkor was not a person who offered many compliments. He preferred fo speak sparingly where he could, and because of his upbringing, he had a hard time showing affection of any kind. Instead of listing off any number of things positive about her, he took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, then exhaled.

"You can hug me," he told her, "once. If you want to. No pressure."

[Lessa 1]

She'd showered him with compliments, and he hadn't responded in turn. In fact, he'd made quick work of reminding her that they weren't actually good for each other, and probably never would be. Charming, a small part of her thought wryly. But in truth, Lessa found she didn't particularly mind the lack of a response. Granted, a significant reason behind that was sheer exhaustion - why keep drilling in a field when you know there's simply no oil? But she also figured, just maybe, she was truly beginning to come to terms with what he was - and what he wasn't.

And maybe that was enough.

When he offered the hug, real, genuine laughter bubbled through her. "Nuh-uh," she countered, jabbing a finger in the blonde man's direction. "No way. I know a trap when I see one." She tsked, then shook her head. "Bring me in for a hug so you can complain about how clingy I am. It's a devious plan, really. A very twisty plot twist."

Instead, she reached out and clapped him on the upper arm. A single pat that lasted only a heartbeat. And if she took some pleasure in the physical contact, she gave no indication. Instead, in a voice meant only for Alkor, she said, "I know you better than that."

Then she passed him, blonde hair tumbling as a warm breeze blew through the garden. A similar breeze had blown that day on the second floor, as they'd stood beneath the tree and talked of love. Of hate. Of broken people. She had looked at him through those rose-tinted glasses, wanting so badly to make him hers, no matter the cost. No matter what he'd really wanted. She had loved him, hated him, grieved him, longed for him, and cursed his name in equal measure over the years. She had let her emotions cloud her judgement, over and over again.

When she paused at the foot of the bridge to turn back to him, nothing dulled the intensity in those lake blue eyes.

"Now come back inside and watch me with this thing."

[Baldur 0]

The dojo was dark at this hour, though the sun was still setting, it was obscured by trees and the buildings of Baldur's home. It was meant to greet the rising sun, not the setting. A subtle symbol that there was always a dawn to another day. Practice was for the morning, and rest for the evening. When first light hit, it came through the open panels and met the small Kamidana, and below it, the rows of wooden nafuda, showing the names of all those who were recognized members of Baldur's dojo, along with the name of the dojo: Musha Shugyo - Training in Warriorship. The eastern equivalent of a knight errant's quest for nobility.

Baldur passed through after getting everyone settled for food. His papers had been cleaned up, and someone attended the weapons, putting everything back in an orderly way. The gaijin samurai was already half a dozen paces into the room, when he noticed a solitary figure standing aloof in the room, wrapped up in the shadows of the setting sun. Watching the crowd, but apart from it.

The wanna-be samurai slowed his otherwise hurried pace, stopping handful of tatami-mats into the room.

He hung there a moment, trying to make out the figure. It wasn't that it was too dark to see him, but rather than the lights and the noise of the party were all around them, but did not exist in the room. They were both backlit, by noise and by light.

"You're Alkor-sama, aren't you." As he had been without the party, he did not have his sword at his side. He moved to rest his hand there, as he normally would have, but found its absence a bit uncomfortable in this particular moment. He didn't feel threatened by Alkor, but it made him feel their footing was off.

"I must say, it's not often a ghost visits my home." A smirk twitched at Baldur's lips, imperceptible due to the backlight. That's a lie. Ghosts visit here most of all. He felt the need to say more, however.

"Please, be welcome in my home."

---

Baldur:
 

Spoiler

» Baldur, The Gaijin Samurai 

• Modified HP:
• Modified EN:
• Modified MIT:
• Modified ACC:
• Modified DMG:
• Modified EVA:
• Battle Heal:
• Search:
• Temp Buff:
• Temp Buff:
• Temp Buff:
• Temp Buff:
• Temp Buff:

» Base Stats

• Base HP: 920
• Base EN: 126 (includes 20 for Energist)
• Base MIT: 78
• Base ACC: 5 (includes AA and does not automatically miss on 1s)
• Base DMG: 23 
• Base EVA: 2
• Battle Heal: 46 HP
• Keen: +1
• Recovery: +4 EN

» Items Equipped:

• Warden's Fury - Absolute Accuracy/2 Paralyze
• Muramasa - Absolute Accuracy/Fallen/Blight/Burn
• Ethereal Tether - Zanshin - Absolute Accuracy/Keen/Freeze/Burn
• Montsuki haori - 48 DMG MIT/+1 EVASION/+4 EN RECOVERY
• Emerald Matagama | Perfect | +3 Accuracy
• Hammerspace Backpack (HB) +1 BR item (allows stacks up to 7)

» Battle-Ready Inventory:

• Medium Damage Potion ^x7 | Rare T2 Item | +2 Damage
• Basic Teleportation Crystal ^x1 | Good Item | Teleports player to the Town of Beginnings
• Max Mass HP Recovery Crystal ^x7 | Perfect T2 Item | +30*Target Tier (30/60/90)
• Max T2 HP Recovery Crystal II ^x4 | Perfect T2 Item | +180 HP
• Safeguard Potion ^x3 | Perfect Tier 1 | Safeguard
• HB: Max Vitality Snack ^x2 | Rare Tier 2 | Grants +12 Energy
• EWL: Medium Antidote Potion ^x1 | Rare Tier 2 | Immune to negative status effects for 2 turns
• EWL: Muramasa or Warden's Fury
• EWL:
• SC: Emerald Teardrop - +2 ACC/+1 EVASION
   

» Skills:

• One Hand Curved Sword | Rank 1/5 | 
• Katana | Rank 5/5 | 
• Battle Healing | Rank 5/5 | 
• Light Armor | Rank 5/5 | 
• Charge | Purchased | 
• Quick Change | Purchased
• Extended Weight Limit | Purchased
• Energist | Purchased
• Combat Shift | ST Specialist
• Searching| Rank 3/5

» Extra Skills:

• Concentration | Equipped
• Survival | Un-equipped
• Meditation | Equipped
• Parry | Equipped
• Forgotten King's Authority | Equipped
• Shatter | Not Yet Unlocked

» Mods:

• Meticulous: Equipped
• Emergency Recovery: Equipped
• [Mod Slot Empty
• [Mod Slot Empty]
• [Mod Slot Empty]
• ADD-ON Ferocity: Equipped
• ADD-ON Stamina: Equipped
• ADD-ON: Precision: Equipped
• ADD-ON: Resolve: Equipped

» Housing Bonuses:

• Rested: -1 EN on first 2 uses
• Tasty: Turns 2 food into feast for 4
• Advanced Training: +2 SP to a thread 1/month
• Filling: Add 1 extra tier 1 slot to food
• Item Stash: +1 BR item slot
• Relaxed: OOC regen 5*tier, recover EN out of combat after 2 turns in lieu of 3
• Angler: +1 Mat when fishing

 

Edited March 9, 2022 by Baldur

[Alkor 0]

The fighting had passed and people convened for the party that their host had graciously prepared. It was a rare time in Aincrad when someone went out of their way to accommodate others like this, so most of them were more than eager to indulge. How Baldur suspected Alkor might not be one of them was anyone's guess. Still, the man found him and quickly identified him by name. Like everyone else, Alkor had dispensed with his weapon upon entry to the tournament out of respect for the rules and safety of everyone; and so, when the man approached, his arms were crossed. Something told him it was not likely to come to blows between them, so he made no movement to change the situation. 

"Please," Alkor bowed his head more than a bit, in the customary respectful deference owed to a host. "Just Alkor is fine, Baldur-dono," he replied with a title that awarded respect but afforded them equal status. Alkor never saw anyone as above him, nor did he look to place others beneath him. It felt foreign to be addressing someone who had seen the frontlines for so long, and stood where Alkor always felt he should have been standing. It was almost like looking at one's own shirked duties and feeling the guilt of failing in those responsibilities. 

When the man called him a ghost, he acutely recalled the conversation with Jomei that he'd had earlier that day. It seemed a hot topic for conversation, the method with which he managed to survive. Or perhaps it was that he survived at all that unnerved them so. How many others might have cheated death? How many more deserving than Alkor- 

No, he'd decided never to follow that line of thought again.

"I am as much flesh and blood as anyone in this place can claim to be," Alkor mused dryly, "which is to say, as much as we can be certain that we are in the world outside." To speak on the concept of mortality in this world seemed so morbid, and yet, they were more than a bit liberal with the notion. Both men seemed at ease with making light of it. "I thank you for your hospitality," he added finally, with another bow to accentuate the statement. The man comported himself in the manner of a Samurai, so regardless of the pallor of his skin or the pattern of his speech, Alkor was inclined to treat him that way. Samurai did not care about what one looked like, where one was born, or how one dressed in reality. Samurai was a way in which a man lived his life.

Bushido was a code. It was easy to understand, even if the people who followed its tenets were not. Alkor had tremendous respect for things that were to the point, and this particular thing was one that he was quite familiar with.

The room was dark, both of them outlined by the luminescence of the party.  What he could see of Baldur's features were a shadow of what they might have been by daylight, muted of tone and devoid of color. In this space, there was no pretense between them. With the warmth of the sun ripped away, their darkness was exposed.

"Has the host tired of his guests?" Alkor asked, though he knew better. It was more likely that Baldur sought him out intentionally. "Or was there something else that drew you away?"

[Baldur 0]

Baldur approached Alkor, an amused curl to his lip when the man commented about being as flesh and blood as anyone could be in Aincrad. No one had ever given him reason to doubt the system designated marker over their head other than Alkor. The man had been dead. Baldur had helped people grieve for him. He had visited and left flowers for the man at the Monument of Life, yet here the man stood. It was something worth investigating, but he would not interrogate the man who as a guest in his home at their first meeting. His curiosity, at least over this, would have to be sated another day.

"Believe it or not," Baldur said with an amused smile as he leaned against the door frame opposite Alkor, the lights and sounds of a party on one side of the pair, and the quiet darkness of the dojo on the other, "I am an introvert. I need quiet moments to recharge, even in the midst of my own party."

He looked back over at the shadowy man. His combat displays had been quite impressive. He fought in a pure way that Baldur taught his students was a piece of fudoshin, it was all fire with none of the restraint that Baldur taught. It gave Alkor a wildness about him, and energy that was almost palpable. Perhaps lacking restraint wasn't the right word. Alkor was restrained right now, but when he fought, he took the gloves off and released the hulk inside.

"I apologize, I have you at such a disadvantage. I know so much about you second hand I almost feel like I know you. I have helped people, well... Mari and Lessa... grieve over you. I have left flowers, and poured sake at the monument of life for you, and now here you stand. It is a... strange, surreal sense that is hard to reconcile in a game."

The gaijin let his head rest back against the frame of the door behind him.

"I am glad you joined us here tonight." He thought back to the fight with Koga, and then the fight with Lessa. "The whole point of this evening  is healing wounds. Healing wounds in the frontlines, healing wounds in the community, healing wounds of loneliness. I hoped that by coming together with something like this, building bonds between people who had never seen one another outside of a fight, might remind us that we're all human, and we all are in this together."

He turned his steel blue eyes back on the shadow of a man before him.

For a moment, he just let them stand there in companionable silence. How did he talk to this man? How did he introduce himself? It felt strange to introduce himself to someone he already felt he knew. So perhaps that's where he should start, forget what assumptions he had, and get to know the man himself.

So Baldur turned, and walked over to the weapon rack, picked up the sword he had seen Alkor use in his duels, picked up a wooden katana for himself, and when he knew the man had seen what he did, he tossed the wooden weapon to him.

Then he stood to the side, lit by the red light of the setting sun coming through the doorway, and held up his katana in a basic one handed guard stance. 

"If you would mind indulging me, I'd like to get to know you." 

[Alkor 0]

When Baldur confessed to being an introvert, Alkor had to chuckle silently. They shared that in common, and yet, Baldur found it within his abilities to host this type of event. He was even able to reach beyond the norms of his limited social capacity to function as the master of ceremonies. Alkor wondered whether if his own experiences had been different, if he had adjusted to life differently and learned those skills, he might have been capable of similar feats. It might drive another man to envy, but Alkor found only a certain respect for it. Rather than strive after what he did not have, he looked inward, for the things he could. Even if they were at the end of a long, painful, and oft lonely road.

This man exhibited a softer, almost compassionate face that many of the rougher and hardened denizens of their shared prison had lost along the way. Baldur spoke of offering at the final resting place, where all names went to rest in silence, and he forced himself not to think of all the tears that were wasted on him. He could not rewrite the past. 

"I offer my apologies," he dipped his head slightly. So much wasted time, so many difficult feelings to process. Alkor could not give any of it back.

Lessa, for all of her goodness, her kindness, and positivity, had built him into something that he wasn't. At the first chance he had, he tried to break away from it. Mari called on him to be something as well, but in the end, he had told her that he couldn't. These were sins that kept building on his burdens, mistakes he'd made that he had no idea how to undo. These unreciprocated feelings, the monumental expectations, they led him to understand that the truth was- albeit pain- always better than the lie.

"It is a beautiful sentiment," Alkor replied genuinely, "and certainly, a noble pursuit. I know there are those who will benefit from what you have done here tonight." 

But some wounds do not heal. It would have been tasteless to say that part, but he thought it nonetheless. Because it was true. 

His own truth was much more humble, and perhaps unexciting than what Baldur might have come to know of him. Alkor's amber gaze followed the man through the shadows, over to the rack of weapons where the training swords were. What came next surprised him.

This man seemed more interested not in what he knew of Alkor, but what he could learn. Whether or not that meant disappointment for Baldur, it was all that Alkor could have asked of anyone: to accept him as he was, not as what they thought he should be.

Alkor snatched the weapon out of the air like it was destined to find the way to his palm, and deftly stepped back into a high guard. With the blunted edge pointed toward Baldur, he nodded. "I feel that I owe you at least that much."

[Baldur 0]

"A noble pursuit..." Baldur echoed Alkor's words with a smile that showed he welcomed the fight, "My code, what I teach... it's not something you can achieve, but the striving for it is what makes us better. The most important step a man can take, it's always the next one. Otherwise, your journey is over and you've accepted defeat."

With barely so much as a ready stance, Alkor was suddenly upon Baldur. Without having seen the man in action before, he would have been more unprepared for such a maneuver, but it seemed Alkor was not one to squander opportunity. In his casual one handed grip, Baldur didn't have enough leverage to parry the blow and instead took Alkor's wooden bladed attack deep on the blade near the tsuba where he had the most strength, their blades locking for a moment as Baldur used his left hand to support the back of the blade before Alkor's power threw him back even further. Had they been fighting in a ring, the man might have pushed him out, or at least to the edge where his maneuverability would be limited. As it stood, they had the whole of the large dojo at least.

There was no relenting, no quippy back and forth, as soon as Baldur had distance, Alkor was on him again, giving his all to show. But Baldur had been put on his back foot before, he had been beaten within an inch of his life by player and monster and floor boss. He had fought in losing battles and in winning ones. He knew as soon as he felt the first blow that Alkor would give him no quarter, and none was asked. So when Baldur's feet struck the ground, Alkor wasn't greeted with a man on the defensive, he was face with a man on counter attack, interrupting the traditional rhythm of the fight, striking in such a way that forced Alkor to choose if he would be willing to trade blow for blow, or to defend himself and relent on the attack. Baldur knew. He had taken that blow before.

ID205435 CD4 Rock

Edited March 9, 2022 by Baldur

[Alkor 0]

Always striving, never arriving. He'd heard that before from someone he knew. It was the same, difficult, at times frustrating mantra that drove him. Like the heart of a forge, Alkor burned through himself and hammered away the imperfections. One at a time, he chipped away a flaw that brought him ever closer to the complete being he wanted to be. He did not want to die, but with those words, he was reminded that there was only one final destination for them, as humans. It was that mortality that made their efforts precious. It was that fleeting spark that gave rise to the fire inside of him.

Every blow was met with its equal. Wherever he tore an opening, Baldur summarily closed the gates. It was a siege- not won in an instant, with a decisive blow, but over a thousand cuts that fractured the walls. Or would it be the walls that endured, and the flames that dwindled?

In Baldur, he found the strength of someone who had faced down the same challenges- perhaps more than he had- and persevered. There was no fear in the man's eyes, they were a calm sea in the middle of a growing storm. In contrast, Alkor was a tempest, the fury that whipped up the waves and broke against the rocks. The story their bokken told was ancient. It was as old as time itself: of the primordial darkness that lay at its beginning. In that void, there was no difference between fire and water, or of earth and wind. They were as one, and it was through breaking them down into their own parts, through making them imperfect, that all things were born.

A man could not become nothing in his lifetime.

It was the bittersweet nature of their curse. They were damned, always, to amount to something- even if it was something inconsequential. Whether they were remembered or forgotten, their footprint existed for a moment in time. Just like a flame. Fire was born of the passion of man. It was through man's ingenuity, his desire to survive, that it was discovered. It was Alkor's lack of passion for anything else that drove him to seek understanding of himself. His passion for that alone gave him meaning. It was that meaning that guided his movements. He eschewed finesse for intensity. 

His blows wove together with the other man's, each a question and an answer.

Even as the heat came down against him, Baldur flowed with it. Not against it. Rather than try to match his aggression, he waited for the precise moment, and he responded. His strike belted out at Alkor, who found the faintest trace of a smirk at the newest query. 

Will you defend? Will you sacrifice to claim victory?

Alkor defied both outcomes. His blade surged upward from his side, he caught the attack on the outside without cancelling his momentum. He barreled right toward the man, shoulder first, and sought to take him off balance. The blade was not his only weapon. It was an extension of his body, another tool to be employed. In the same way that Baldur closed the gates, Alkor made himself a battering ram. The siege continued into its second phase.

ID: 205441 CD: 3 Rock

Edited March 9, 2022 by Alkor

[Baldur 0]

Alkor chose to counter attack, crashing towards Baldur like a battering ram at the gates, or like the crashing of a massive wave on the shore. He redirected Baldur's blade to the side and threw himself at the wanna-be samurai, but the gaijin was somehow both light on his feet, yet always stable and well balanced. As he had learned many years ago, when the wave was too strong to fight against, to tall to go over, and too powerful to resist, you dove under. Alkor tried to knock Baldur off balance, but instead the blue haori whirled low, and would have taken a lesser man down and sent him crashing to his feet, but Alkor kept the momentum going, the two rolling against each other like a yin and yang of shadows and white fire, both of their blades whirled around once more, both men seeking the point to be gained by striking at their opponent's back. Neither one of them flinched as their blades played chicken with one another, until wooden edge met wooden edge in a blow that would have been exceptionally rare in any two other hands than these.

And the blades shattered, leaving both men swinging wide as the grips they held on their weapons vanished as well.

The moment's unexpectedness flashed across both men's eyes, gold and steel catching lantern light outside.

Without a word, unneeded in the moment, Baldur and Alkor each walked to opposite ends of the dojo and picked up another sword then met close to the halfway point again. They both took a moment to hold a stance to show that they were ready for the fight, but this time it was Baldur who seized the initiative.

Where before he had been water, crashing like a wave against Alkor, surging like the sea against the wild winds of the tai-fun, now he was the wind. Not the raging storm of Alkor, but the leaf on the wind. He flew across the distance between the, his blade darting in and out, seeking to keep Alkor on the defensive, always moving and never being where the dark knight expected him to be, their blades kissing, but never meeting with force as they two each turned aside the others blade until somehow Baldur had managed to close the distance between then, the handles of their blades locking against one another as Baldur attempted to use his not to strike, but to cut, drawing the blade against the man.

They were both weapons, finely honed to their craft. The craft of fighting, of turning every situation to their advantage, of always persisting, because their lives were on the line. The change in the wanna-be samurai's style seemed to force a question upon the man, seeing how well he could adapt to changing situations. What would Alkor do when there was nothing to wail his force upon. When the target of his strikes just wasn't there to be hit.

ID# 205443 CD: 5 Paper

Edited March 10, 2022 by Baldur

[Alkor 0]

Another aspect of the swordsman came to life in that instant. A man was a lifetime of experiences, and his feelings and thoughts changed with age. Baldur shifted like the seasons, from a Spring shower to a Summer breeze. After the initial clash of their blades that left them reeling, it was obvious that a different approach was necessary. It was obvious that the hammer was the wrong tool. So, for lack of efficacy with his inner flame, something raw substantiated. His grit evolved into stubbornness, and the wind buffeted against rock.

Instead of giving chase, Alkor entrenched himself and dug in. Speed would not win the day- they were equally matched, with the Samurai remaining just outside of reach. Alkor, on the other hand, willfully became the target. If he could not go to the wind, then the wind would be made to come to him.

This time, rather than a simple defense, Alkor brought his weapon up and another powerful clashing of wooden blades echoed sharply. It was far louder than the last. As they ricocheted off of one another, Alkor brought his weapon back under control, tempering it in an overhead grip now with both hands. Baldur took on the aspects of wind, of water- yin, light, softness. Alkor countered with what came naturally- the hardness and sharpness of earth, and the heat and passion of fire. He was yang to Baldur, just as he was to Lessa. In this way, they balanced and countered one another, almost perfectly.

It made sense now. This man was like still water and soothing like a breeze, a gentle and calm place to go and seek refuge. He was not like Alkor. 

But that was not all there was. In his immutable response to Alkor, Baldur displayed characteristics of Earth. In his movements to respond to Baldur, Alkor flowed like Water. In this exchange, however brief, both men found aspects of themselves that filled in the gaps. 

Still, they were perfectly balanced. 

Baldur was a refuge. Alkor was a weapon. Both were necessary to fight the daemons of Aincrad. Both were necessary tools to be used by humanity, one for carving a path forward and the other for healing the wounds they incurred along the way. 

ID: 205445 CD: 5 (Paper)

Edited March 10, 2022 by Alkor

[Baldur 0]

Baldur was impressed as Alkor subtly changed his approach, responding to Baldur's change in tactics with a change of his own. As Baldur became fasters and rained quick, shallow blows on him, Alkor shifted to a firmly rooted defense, not giving rising to the baiting attacks and faints, and instead picking him moments to strike. The man was much more accomplished than even Baldur had credited him. He had seemed far more wild and feral in his fight with Koga, yet he was more contemplative in his fight with Baldur. It seemed either Alkor matched like with like, knowing the counter of each style, or that Baldur wasn't driving him hard enough to draw it out. The Gaijin Samurai was holding back, not much, but this was not truly a life or death fight, nor would he make it one.

Baldur took as step back from the fight, giving them a moment of a breather as he considered his next steps. Alkor had solid footwork, but it was time to see if he could be put on a bad back foot. Few relished the opportunity of fighting in retreat, and when pressed tended to break rather than the constant reevaluation needed. So Baldur stood beside the sword rack on his side, opposite the one on Alkor's and added more of the wooden blades to his own battle ready inventory.

"I am impressed, Alkor. I am quite enjoying this."

Baldur raised his sword to indicate he was ready to re-engage.

Once more Alkor tried to seize the initiative, but so did Baldur, letting the two of them clash in the middle of the dojo, both men baring down on one another in a ferocious charge. This time, however, Baldur used steps of the earth, and as he struck, the sound of his foot stomping the wooden floors filled the dojo almost as much as the clack of their blades. Again, Baldur struck, his fumikomi seeming to draw the strength of the earth, turning Baldur into an unstoppable force as their blades met, both of them shattering upon impact. The man did not stop at this, instead, summoning two swords from his battle ready inventory and tossing one to Alkor, and easy loft allowing the blade to seemingly hover in the air for a moment in front of the man. To his credit, he was not phased. Alkor grabbed the blade, but Baldur was just that little bit faster, driving his attack down and forcing Alkor to parry the attack.

They were close now, closer than the ideal range of a sword, but Baldur continued his stomps, assaulting Alkor's footwork, not by trying to step on his feet, but by driving pressure. Any time Alkor was able to pick up space, Baldur's attacks went towards his legs. A relentless cacophony of blows, almost rhythmic in their attacks, until they weren't. Just as a rhythm, a back and forth, had been set up between the two, Baldur intentionally broke it. It left him open to a counter from Alkor, but more often than not, the break in the rhythm was jarring enough to a fighter that they wouldn't be able to capitalize on the maneuver. In fencing it was a called a disengage, and it was one of Baldur's favorite techniques. It worked wonderfully against AI, but against a human player it required them to be sufficiently skilled that they could feel the rhythm and attempt to anticipate their opponent, but not so skilled that they were familiar with the maneuver.

How would Alkor deal with his sudden thrust?

 

ID205567 CD:5 (Paper)

Edited March 11, 2022 by Baldur

[Alkor 0]

Every breath came and went in an instant. 

The same was true of openings, of opportunities, of a single moment in time that could change history. The average man thought nothing of the forces that perpetuated his life. The steps he took, the air he breathed, the water he drank- these things were natural, common, expected, even calculated. But what would happen without one of them? These were the questions not often asked, and more often than not, their answers were more important than the credit they were given.

Strikes intended for his legs brought Alkor toward one of those inevitable questions. What happened when his legs were not able to produce the necessary steps? What would happen if he gave a single inch of ground, or allowed Baldur to debilitate him? 

The rhythm broke, and the question hung in the air between them. The monotony of the steps they'd taken fused together with the excitement of a new query, and Alkor stepped in without hesitation. Unlike before, where he drove with his body in an effort to unbalance Baldur, this time his blade thundered in two distinct cadences. The first, a thunderous downward blow to shunt Baldur's thrust aside and make room for the second, a shallow, oppositional cut that flowed along the dull edge of the blade toward Baldur's arms.

There was no pain, just the sound of impact. 

Deadly closeness. With just a single pull of his arms, Baldur could have brought his blade back to cut Alkor. The difference between their movements was no more than a fraction of a second, a hair trigger response. Alkor's eyes were on that narrow margin, not on his single scored point. With any of Aincrad's beasts, it could have spelled doom for the blonde man. A single hit, a single point, meant nothing in a world where blood was the currency and life hung in the balance.

It was clear, there was no satisfaction in it. Only harsh introspection. Unspoken criticism and chastisement toward the method he'd chosen. His eyes were narrow, fixated, tired.

"What happens when you ask a good question," Alkor pondered aloud, "but get a dissatisfying answer?"  

ID: 205949 CD: 12 (Scissors)

Edited March 14, 2022 by Alkor