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Alakor

"Each and every life has a price. Thus, each and every life can be claimed."

0 · 577 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Frozen Soul

Description

Image



Description


  • Height: 6 foot 4
  • Pigment: Caucasian
  • Hair Length: Neck-length
  • Hair Color: Pitch-black
  • Eye Color: Emerald-green
  • Nose: Greek
  • Lips: Rose, kept in an arrogant smirk
  • Weight: 88 kilograms
  • Name: Alakor
  • Alias: Wraith
  • Age: 32
  • Gender: Male
  • Orientation: Straight
  • Zodiac: Cancer
  • Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
  • Class: Assassin
  • Religion: Christian
  • Hand-usage: Ambidextrous
  • Physical Condition: Prime, athletic
  • Voice: Articulate

Personality

Known Conditions, Mannerisms, Distinctive Signs



  • Chest: Battered skin, dozens of scars lay crested across a robust torso (scar)
  • Right Arm: Crescent Moon (art)
  • Back: Rising Sun (art)
  • Attire: Worn black suit (distinctive sign)
  • Health: Congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis (condition)

Equipment

Equipment, Abilities


  • Long-range: White-oak three-section-staff infused with alloy for greater resistance and impact damage. Section one and three have each been equipped with a Karambit at their ends as to increase the weapon's chance for wounding strikes. Dual carbon Kusarigama with sickles attached to both ends in exchange for the metal sphere used to entrap or immobilize foes (the Kusarigama is found strapped at the back-end of his waist whilst the Three-section-staff is latched across the male's back).
  • Short-range: Forearm length retracting blades (oiled and dipped in Curare) situated in bracers (please picture the AC weapon)
  • Tactical: 4 smoke-bombs
  • Abilities: Is well versed in a multitude of martial arts

So begins...

Alakor's Story

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
Character Portrait: Alakor Alakor says,
 “ Idle feet lightly collided with the polished floors as a rather tall and absent-minded figure poured its frame inside the well-lit chamber. Spores of toxic fumes emanated by blazing tobacco cloaked the male's visor, making one ponder if seeing through the cocktail formed by the pitch-black shades and cigarette vapors permitted the man to actually glimpse inside the bar. Numb arms briefly rotated clock-wise, as if mechanical limbs attempting to brush of a thin lair or rust as a robust torso made it's way to the counter: "Martini, white, on the rocks." ”

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
Character Portrait: Alakor Alakor says,
 “ Sinewy yet graceful fingers coiled around the glass' leg alike a constrictor as a pair of sharp nostrils inhaled the sent created by the chilling beverage. Dry lops united with a crystalline rim, mostly to fugitively taste the container's contents in order to adjudicate it's quality. Acceptable. A swift motion was all it took for the alcohol to vanish as if nothing more than a magician's trick, a arrogant smile now splattered upon a visibly conceited face. "Now, let us find a drop of company in this rather empty glass." ”

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
A brief gesture of his index brought the touch-panel to life, the automatized voice shrieking in an almost vivid discomfort: "Your order shall be brought to you momentarily." - a fleeting pause stood as the omen towards imminent curses, Alakor's lack of disapproval towards the replacement of young, and if he were to admit, quite enticing, waitresses with robotics visible.

"A drop of conversation, a drop of conversation."

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Master's Dojo: Advanced

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
Indeed you are. Let us proceed to post. As a note, the weapons I shall be using are Ulna-long retractable blades placed in his bracers. Please picture the extending weapon from Assassin's Creed.

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
Exactly. If that is acceptable, I shall proceed to post.

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
Pace after pace, absent sigh atop yet another absent sigh, so did he proceed towards the Dojo. A few words could suffice to describe the assassin known as Alakor: an athletic man garbed in the most sullied of suits with a rent silk shirt placed beneath a black velvet coat, the remains a hand-made cigarette carefully tucked between pale lips. "Pft." - the lingering scoff heralded what one could judge to be part disdain, part annoyance summoned by the spacious chamber which now unveiled itself before emerald orbs, the male's fingers coiling and uncoiling repeatedly as to relinquish the last few drops of a passing numbness.

Impolitely neglecting to discard the pair of leather shoes he proceed towards its center, a robust torso now gyrating left and right as the male obviously commenced his warm-up.

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
Curiosity.

Emerald orbs now stood fixated upon the petite frame which courageously rose to her feet against the towering male, smug features assenting for curved lips to display what one could only brand as an arrogant smirk. "You speak of preparation, yet I expected more of the Dojo's visitors. While I am not one to underestimate my foes, it bestows me little joy to fight the likes of a child." - words were conveyed by a belittling voice, agile fingers swiftly proceeding to dismiss both shirt and coat, the sight of a scarred chest and leather bracers bedecked with polished blades now visible to the naked eye. A nimble hop and his footwear now lay scattered across the floor, legs and arms parting by a meter each as Alakor adopted the well known (to those educated in these arts) mantis stance.

A brief impulse of his left wrist extended the blade forward, its polished tip oh-so-gently poking at his forearm, the crimson pearl now trickling across rough skin the signal to commence the spar: "First blood has been drawn. Come at me, child."

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
"Don't toy with your fate youngling, 'tis not the time to test the grounds you walk upon!" - the baronial voice bellowed alike thunder, the male still as tone whilst jagged metal screeched across bare-skin, a left hand dashing in a mere trice towards the wrist which had now traversed his chest whilst an arched leg straight-aimed at the child's left knee in an attempt to secure his target no matter which way she chose, Alakor changing towards the crane stance in a matter of moments

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
Ah, how delicious. 'Twas because he was either a gentlemen, or simply because he had not sparred with such a skilled partner in quite some time, yet no matter the motive, Alakor had utterly refused to indulge himself in the grand opening given atop a silver platter by the woman's pirouette. Only a honed warrior's experience would permit one to retract his hand as swiftly as he did, fingers waltzing inches away from the gleaming wakizashi. Abruptly altering his leg's course, the combatant had now directed his limb upwards in an arc meant to fully block the female's incoming slash. Gaining the momentum delivered through his defensive action, sinewy arms now extended towards their full reach in order to permit the left blade to emerge in unison with the closing distance between his palm and the woman's abdomen area, a right fist now performing a crescent attack towards the upper-right area of her neck, the second blade mimicking the first's actions when it came to unleashing its body. Neither a leap to the side nor one to the back could be fast enough as to avoid the incoming projectiles due to their length, thus was this perhaps, the spar's aftermath?

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
The blades had ceased inches away from both the woman's abdomen and neck, a warm smile now plastered across unshaved features. Briefly regaining his composure Alakor had now retracted both weapons with only but the slightest of gestures provoked by sturdy wrists. Placing arms behind a titanic back, a fleeting nod was offered as a gift to the child before him for the minutes of entertainment provided.

"We are both aware of how this spar would have ended. Continue to train your skills. Perhaps we shall enjoy each other's company at some point in the future." - and with those few words lethargic hands proceeded to collect his belongings, the man now exiting the Dojo.

The setting changes from Master's Dojo: Advanced to Gambit's Bar

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
Sturdy fingers found themselves waltzing across the flickering display yet again, surely in search of yet another liquor to quench the male's seemingly unending thirst. He had been 'entrapped' in the tavern's confines for what one judged to be at least two days, the dozens of empty containers messily scattered atop a tarnished table and across what once was a polished parquet the witnesses to the gentleman's intoxicated state.

"Psht.." - the gurgling vociferation conveyed itself in annoyance as the scotch was set before an almost dormant gaze, Alakor torn between vomiting or fainting due to the absurd amount of alcohol already ingested. Sluggishly permitting an index finger to scratch unshaved cheeks, an athletic torso commenced to helix towards the left in an effort to better prop the man against the reinforced walls, a loud *THUD* the herald to advent the murderer's collapse atop the floor.

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
"Are you alive, down there?" - the nebulous inquiry lingered, its question-mark a stimulant for a right palm to hoist itself upwards, a four-inch-thick, forearm-length blade violently ejecting its tip only centimeters from the female's collar. Alcohol could indeed forfeit one's judgement, yet it could not gain dominion over an assassin's reflexes.

"I a.. am.." - a turbulent cough imposed a short adjournment to the male's monologue, elbows stuttering in an effort to locate a prop which would withstand the body's weight. "I am.. quite.. quite, I am. I am, thus, I must.. drink?" - the drunken mixture of a statement and an inquiry delivered itself with a jester's humor, Alakor clearly in need of either a bed or a glacial-cold bath.

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
"Scotch, single-malt." - the rugged voice absently spoke whereas fingers now propped a cigarette's filter in between pale lips, tobacco brought to life as crimson flames united with its paper phial. Enjoyable liquor and oddities - the two well-known reasons for which the man had visited the timeless tavern year and year again, albeit his ever-growing disease.

"Sir, smoking and drinking are not advised in your current state. Liver damage has reached a new critical point of 38%. Your left lung is no longer able to filtrate air properly. Continuous smoking shall cause you to fully loose it in a total of 186 days." - a mechanized voice impolitely erupted from the male's nearby pocket, narrowed eyes one of the many signals used to portray Alakor's growing annoyance with the object.

"If I told you once, I told you a fuckin' million times. I do not care. Bother me with another 'health' or 'biological' or whatever name it may hold warning again and you have my word that I will use you as a wine opener. Are we clear?" - "Yes sir."

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
"Scotch, single-malt." - Alakor torpidly spoke yet again, a slithering tongue now gallantly striding between the corners of a curved mouth in an effort to leech away the last few golden pearls of liquor. "Some pay a hefty price for studying me with oh so inquisitive eyes, M'dame." - the male addressed the rather blond-ish female, a sarcastic tone clearly meant to deliver a warning with it when coupled with the armament which lay veiled by a velvet coat.

Company, as lusting for it as he was, should only attempt to approach if worthy of his time.

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
"That object was not used to carve my scar. Yet, again, if you would wish to learn how to perform a cut such as this one, I suggest you obtain a pistol, load it with the aforementioned item, place it at your temple, inhale, close your eyes and press the trigger. You should meet the one which did this in a matter of moments." - ah, how ignorant she were to not even understand the simplest of metaphors. It seems too much credit was given. "Withal, you should not trouble yourself with such things, M'dame, as even words can be lethal if used wrongly. Perhaps I have said too much. My sincere apologies." - with that and with the mannerisms of a half drunkard, the gentleman tipped his hat, arms now extending to the sides whilst knocking down several of the containers placed in the nearby vicinity. With an abrupt shift of his torso, he had returned towards the polished counter, elbows propped against glinting wood as emerald orbs thieved the hour: but a few more hours in which he could drown his sorrow. "Scotch, single-malt."

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
"First and foremost: if you had even for the slightest of trices compared me to any of the blundering idiots dwelling in this tavern, I indeed pity your judgement. Secondly, I have no intention of drawing your interest through those so-called sob-stories. Though they may be put cheesy pick-up lines for the most average of Joes which step past the threshold, they are yet another blackened event I would rather not remember than use to bathe myself in the company of a mildly attracting woman. Thirdly, yet not last -"; a brief gesture had raised the scotch in the air, an abrupt flex of his wrist unfettering the liquor upon the woman's shirt whereas the male now stood up, palms gently removing the velvet coat which rested atop broad shoulders only to discard it in the woman's lap: "Consider me enraged, M'dame."

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
"It seems I find myself needing to apologize yet again, M'dame. You have my word that next time, in exchange for scotch I'll use yet another bullet. Perhaps then you could compare to a more appropriate character, gender wise?" - he smirked, a rather sly grin now fugitively traversing past unshaved facial features. Perhaps she could show herself to be a worthy distraction, more or less. A brief adjournment brought in the gentleman's monologue heralded the on-going contemplations vis-a-vis the torn state of her lacks and qualities.

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
"Scotch, single-malt." - the fifth glass was expeditiously delivered before the man, emerald orbs plagued by both haze and a slight dizziness. Clumsily lifting himself from atop a nearby stood, the male was now prone to a self-induced-alcohol-coma if a few more glasses were to be engulfed. Alas, 'twas neither the first nor the last time when such events would occur.

"Rabid wolves.." - a visibly distressed Alakor murmured in unison with a performed pyroute, golden drops of liquor now impacting with tarnished garments as to add yet another few freckles to the already existing stains and blemishes which decorated the aforementioned garments.

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#, as written by Frozen Soul
Had she been gone? She had indeed stated something amongst the lines of acquiring a change of clothes, yet had she been gone and returned with him not even glimpsing? How odd. Or was it the liquor taking its toll upon both the psyche and physique? Nevertheless, no assignments were to be present until Saturday if his contractor would respect the given word, thus, as he had previously calculated several hours were still to be spent in bad quality and what now seemed to be worse alcohol. Withal, perhaps this shall not be as an aggravating of an eve as he first portrayed.

Expanding both arms whilst slightly bowing, a sinewy torso leaned forward as to provoke the hat hoisted atop charcoal threads to collapse and topple across the floor: "As much as I would miss a wound, M'dame, and seeing as I have several engraved upon my skin, you could take that anyway you wish."

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to The Infinite Void

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Character Portrait: Slyantar Thomas Copper Character Portrait: Kinea Character Portrait: Issuka Character Portrait: Liesha Kennicot Character Portrait: Ruhe Character Portrait: Holy Soldier
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#, as written by le-terryer
Quickpaw Hurojo awakes after having been asleep for several years. Around the area was only void. It was empty. Dark. Cold. "Where... where have the spirits placed me?" He started patting his body all over; ensuring that he was corporeal. "Not dead; that's a plus." Though there was no time to lose. If he was corporeal, that likely means that he could return to the world he knew, and hopefully return to his king. He began running, hoping to find an exit to this ethereal obscurity.

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