[PP-F27] In the wake of Rebellion

[Alkor 0]

Thematic Music

I've spent all this time destroying things
Could I have saved anything?

The streets were acrid, riddled with plumes of sulfuric smog and rubble from myriad blasts. Careful steps over large repositories of debris eventually gave way to the Ladonian's best efforts at restoration. Wherever one stepped, the future was bright, but shadows of the past loomed. Fear had ruled in the Empire for so long, the very thought of peace was fragile and beggared belief. An offered hand more often earned a distrusting look, as though Razwell had put the bearer up to the perceived kindness. As though it were a feint, a test of their integrity, and failure could spell death- or worse.

Their tyrant was dead, but the horrors of his reign waged war eternal in their hearts and minds. Those at the lowest echelons of society had known little kindness during the times that came before. Sleepless nights fell over Ladonia in the days to follow. Man and woman alike were unified by many causes- some in the advent of a new, beautiful, freer and happier homeland. Their efforts though noble often were stunted by those who hate had spread through like wildfire. Contempt for the man who had robbed them of contentment for so long. They still remembered the terror they felt when the Ifrit took flight, and the relief that felt nothing like relief when it was unmade.

Razwell was gone, but his imprints had buckled society at the knees. 

Alkor watched quietly as he passed by at the seeds of dissonance long sown as they bore fruit. Peace was a lie in Ladonia, even between those who had no real cause for quarrel. The youth slapped at the armored woman's palm, like a dog snapping at a friendly hand. With a scowl on his face, the boy shouted, spat at her feet, and the fear in his eyes spoke to Alkor. Surprise overtook the female knight, who reached for the blade at her hip on instinct. The boy threw up his hands defensively, winced as he braced for an impact that never came. The First Sword had the woman by the wrist, calm writ on his face.

"Is his fear so unexpected?"

"Merely reflex," the woman relaxed her grip, setting a wary gaze on Alkor- his actions could have been interpreted as violent, from a certain point of view. "Unhand me, ser."

The blonde let her free with no struggle or argument. "Go on then," he spoke to the boy, eyes still on the female Knight. 

"He had taken a fall," she said, "and I meant to help him to his feet again."

"I saw." The boy had taken off running the moment he had been offered a chance. His dark clad savior watched impassive, silent.

"Then why-?"

"Like so many others, that boy has been falling down for years and getting back up on his own." Alkor watched as the boy disappeared from view down one of the city's many alleyways, a veritable labyrinth that had only become more complex and dangerous after the downfall of the Grand Imperator. The Knights that patrolled the broken streets were disjointed, demoralized, confused. Control had shifted hands, but trust had to be built over time. Gabrandr would not command his men as one for some time to come. And in the gaps between Razwell's fall and Gabrandr's consolidation of power, cracks broke out across the city's foundations. "If you want to help them, you first have to learn to understand them."

"I was born Ladonian, outlander," she scoffed. "What would you know of their struggle?"

Alkor's jaw set in a frown. 

Will my sins eventually meet their end?
Only the things I've broken are reflected here, overflowing

 

It was unfortunate, but understandable. Defensiveness, getting offended- the culture of Ladonia, their shared struggles, even from the lowest boy to a decorated knight- all of them had shared the experience of a terrible leader. The trauma varied, but it was a link forged in the chains that bound each and every citizen. "Of our struggle," the woman quietly corrected herself after a moment, her softened voice and look of hurt not lost on Alkor. "You're telling me to understand someone, but who better to understand a Ladonian than a Ladonian? Your kind rid us of one Tyrant, but left the power vacuum that followed for us to sort out alone."

He was reminded of American history, of how the Founding Fathers struggled, grasping at anything they could to form a unified front, to build an infrastructure that would unify the former Colonies in the days that followed Revolution. It had not always been bloodless. Men died to bring them to the precipice of freedom; yet more died once they found their footing. It was said that the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of Patriots and Tyrants. The Players had watered the tree, but left the people of Ladonia to cultivate it. She was right to begrudge them that.

It hadn't been an oversight, though.

The Players were hardly a government unto themselves. They found ways to keep some semblance of civility, but they were divided by their own devices. They couldn't give Ladonia what it needed. In reality, things might have gone better for everyone if the outsiders had never been involved. But Aincrad was a fickle castle, and its denizens were at the whims of both Cardinal and the anomalies with free will who trespassed on their floors. "I'd be remiss to call the state of affairs you've been thrust into a gift," Alkor admitted, "But complaining about it and holding grudges won't make it any better."

"Obviously," the woman snorted. "Grudges and complaints have ever been the status quo. Ladonian, Galtean- the division has ever been at the core of this land's every problem. And even if you made things harder for us, you gave us the opportunity to make things better. It's an opportunity we never had before, and probably wouldn't have without you. I won't thank you for it, but..."

"We didn't do it for thanks anyway," he murmured. The woman stared vacantly at him for a moment, then shrugged. There were always things that the outsiders said that didn't make sense. This would just be another one.

"I will never understand your kind," she stated flatly. 

"You're better off for it," he assured her. "Most of us don't understand ourselves, either."

All these torn seams were a fate that I had chosen
Even if I'll be captured unaware by pursuing it endlessly

He raised a hand in parting as he turned from the Knight, continuing his aimless trek through the broken streets. 

Spoiler

920 HP 136 EN

Base Damage: 9 Mit: 170 Acc: 4 Eva: 0 Blight: 32  In addition, a target afflicted with Blight loses 20 Mitigation for 2 turns Bleed: 48 Paralyze Battle Healing: 92/turn 8-10 Critical chance 10% increase to healing received

• Total EXP:  272,145
• Total SP: 205
• Current Level: 33
• Paragon Level: 50
• Unlocked Paragon Rewards:
  • Lv. 5 | Gain additional col equivalent to 10% of EXP earned in that thread.
  • Lv. 10 | +1 LD to looting
  • Lv. 25  | Free Skill respec
  • Lv. 50 - (1) Gleaming Scale, (1) Demonic Shard, x3 Paragon Tier Up Tickets, Custom Skill

Inventory

Equipped: 

Item Name: Witchfang
Item Tier: 4
Item Type: OHSS
Item Enhancements: CURSED / BLIGHT / BLEED / PARALYZE
Description: "Forged from the fang of a massive Black Dragon slain by a nameless hero in ancient times, it was given
as offering to placate a Sorcerer intent on bringing low the Kingdom. He struck a deal with the hero, in exchange for
a reprieve in his generation, the fang would return to haunt their world one day. Witchfang promises ruin to those who
are struck by it. The weapon's edge is fashioned of Obsidian and invested with myriad afflictions. 
One of Aincrad's Cursed Weapons, its very presence inspires fear and invokes the chill of darkness."

Item Name: Titan's Ward
Item Tier: 4
Item Type: Heavy Armor
Item Enhancements: Mitigation 2, Taunt
Description: very long 

Item Name: Eye of Osiris
Item Tier: Tierless
Item Type: Accessory
Item Enhancements: ACC III
Description: A pin fashioned in the style of Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, depicting the eye of the god Osiris.

 

Edited August 4 by Alkor