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paradigm

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About paradigm

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    â—¦dollmaster
  • Birthday September 30

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    tuspiddyslexia
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    https://tuspiddyslexia.wordpress.com/
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    Flo-rida
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    Alterion Board Leader

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  1. Sir, when you are most available, Nadia wishes to speak with her brother :kiss:

    1. paradigm

      paradigm

      Hot dog! Point me in the right direction! Do we have a link or do we need a link? 

    2. Aleksei

      Aleksei

      I can make us a thread! I just wasn't sure if your plate was too full, cuz I don't want to overwhelm you and all that jazz.

  2. [TOG] The Floor of the Test [North]

    It was obvious, beyond evident really--for anyone who possessed the barest amount of sensory perception, that yon Crocodilian, with his bounding bouts of booming and shit wrecking--held himself in high esteem. Perhaps too high? A faint voice inquired in the back of Arsene’s mind, prompting the hooded rapscallion to shrug his shoulders. He’d allowed the horned child to drag him along in her pursuit of glorious murder and dispatched the poor opposing soul nearest him with a swing of the mighty beast’s fang--still handled quite awkwardly due to the absence of a true hilt.The cacophonous shit storm of the wannabe dinosaur’s attack might have seemed impressive to the Crocodilian, but for all the power behind the attack and the earth shattering and hot air blowing that occurred, Arsene stood before Hyorin, unmoved by these forces. Speaking of shinsoo re-inforcement… Bare fingers bore down on the root of the fang, where pearly white did connect to gum and with severe force shattered the small outcropping of bone, forming the root into a makeshift hilt. “Hrrrrrrr” he muttered at the announcement. It seemed he had little choice but to team up with the two, now--though the crocodilian’s latest display seemed to have awakened something in Arsene...something dark and powerful. Amongst warriors of repute, it’s worth noting there are at their core two types of individuals. Those who burned bright, oft called hot steel, and those who sapped that warmth, oft called cold steel. The aforementioned display and the crocodilian’s ear shattering roar made it clear that the dichotomy played out upon the floor of test. For a power bubbled within Arsene, something festering and menacing--unlike others...Arsene didnt need to bark about it. Lowering his gaze to the horned girl, Arsene smoothed the handle of his new blade and slung it through a loop in his coat. “Hrrrr. Gatorface isn’t much a thinker, is he?” It’ll get you killed...was the unspoken warning he levied to Hyorin before crossing his arms and peering out across the floor of test. Something had set the hooded man on edge, but it was not the giant crocodile--Arsene had no need of crocodile skin anything in his wardrobe. No, there was something else, something further south that caught his attention. Something odd. Something off. “Hrrrr, abbie someone.” Abnormal.
  3. [TOG] The Floor of the Test [North]

    Eyes widened and something whizzed by Arsene’s head at phenomenal speed, very nearly blowing the youth’s hood back. Had the sniper missed? Or had the hooded figure merely moved imperceptibly fast? Preternatural speed was not uncommon amongst the test floor’s participants, given the varied backfrounds and walks of life Headon plucked his chosen from. “Er…” Arsene grunted, in the wake of the crocodilian’s mad dash towards the gunman. “Gatorface isn’t one for patience, hm?” It was more of a statement then a question, but he turned his head towards Hyorin regardless. Hands never leaving his pockets, the hooded noisemaker was content to watch Deuce clean up the mess, whether this inaction was out of interest or sheer laziness, had yet to be revealed. For the most part, he seemed to be following the smaller girl’s lead, having inadvertently found himself a new member of the pack. “Hrgh, does he need help?”
  4. [TOG] The Floor of the Test [North]

    Arsene could only arch a brow in curiosity as the horned girl literally threw him a bone. The tooth was long enough and of an ideal shape to replace the needle he'd hurled skyward and through the creature's skull, if perhaps a bit thicker. Wrapping one hand around the base, whilst keeping the other in his pocket, he raised it and studied the tooth before hefting it to test the weight. "Hrrrr, Needs a proper handle," he muttered before letting it rest over his shoulder. The blood spatters concerned him, not at all--like Hyorin, he paid no mind to the creatures ick splattered upon his person. Arsene turned towards the crocodilian, the large figure's question fresh on his mind. "Tch. We either wait til the rest of them are killed, or reach the magic number ourselves." Arsene shrugged, his mood indiscernible from behind the hood. "Ffffffff. Neither of you is from one of the Families, hm?" His grip on the tooth tightened. Would their answer destroy this uneasy alliance? The hooded head tilted to the side, and a lengthy groan escaped. "Doesn't matter, I suppose. Not for now, at least."
  5. [TOG] The Floor of the Test [North]

    “Hrrrrrr” Canting his head towards the pint-sized would-be princess, Arsene sighed. “I know a lot, little horny person.” The hooded man paused to weigh the implication of his statement before grunting and moving on. “That thing is definitely angry. I’m certain of it.” Thankfully his position didn’t necessitate repositioning, but he was nevertheless seized by a blend of confusion and fear as the crocodilian raised his arms to intercept the incoming foot. The smaller partner of the duo had the good sense to flee, at least--prompting Arsene to let out a “tch” of disbelief as the foot hovered over the crocodilian’s raised arms. Regardless of the brute’s intent or actions things were working out for the hooded man. Finding himself with a split second to decide whether he would deliver a killing blow to one of three targets, he let his gut make the decision. There was little to be gained in assaulting either of the duo, at the moment. Besides, he wasn’t entirely certain a single blow would pierce the crocodilian's hide, nor was he certain he could actually land a blow on the bouncing midget mistress of murder. From a pure mathematical standpoint, the numbers were with the monolithic beast. “Tck. Rock Lobster.” Flipping the needle until the blade pointed downwards from his thumb, he hoisted it like a mini-javelin. Redistributing his weight, Arsene pivoted on his foot, gathered his shinsoo and let the weapon loose with alarming force. Positioned as he was, and from his angle of attack the spear was on course to strike the beast’s underside just below the chin and above the throat. Ripping through the creature’s skull the needle soared off in an arc to land somewhere else in the grassy field. “Nice work, Gator-face. Hrm.” With the barest modicum of luck, the creature would be dead by the time it came crashing down. It was a shame, he’d liked that needle too. Returning his hands to his pockets, the hooded man waited to see if the enemy of his enemy wished to be friends, or if there were to be hands thrown.
  6. [TOG] The Floor of the Test [North]

    He spent a considerable amount of time studying the events that unfolded before his eyes. The monolithic beast’s awakening, the crocodilian’s desperate struggle shuffle for survival, the pint sized princess’s toddler tantrum and the subsequent thrashing as the beast attempted to remove the interlopers from its person. Eventually, the gravity of the situation struck him, prompting an already heavy head to tilt to the side. Were they continuing to pester the beast? Were they insane? Perhaps they were just that confident in their abilities, regardless it only gave Arsene further pause in seeking them out as prey. “Ooooooooooorrrrrrrrrr….” There were opportune moments in life that, if left unseized, haunted a soul into the afterlife and for all eternity. This moment seemed the absolute best time to engage the pair. After all there was distracted and then there was DISTRACTED. Arsene doubted he would find the pair “giant fuck mothering monster” distracted again for quite some time. “Pretense of friendship?” He asked himself softly, only to immediately confirm: “Pretense of friendship.” Await an opening and exploit it, these were the tenants of--no, best not to dwell on the past. Gripping the needle, Arsene moved towards the beast leaving roughly 20 meters between the creature and himself and 10 meters between himself and the murderous duo. “Congratulations, hnnn.” He his voice grated from behind the hood. “Tch, you’ve managed to piss it off.”
  7. LEGEND | Lands of Alterion

    The Grindstone
  8. LEGEND| Izral

    Placeholder.
  9. [RB] —a drop in the pool

    At no response, the figure placed skeletal digits on either side of the doorway. A moment passed and bits of marble soon began to crumble to the floor. The building in immediately proximity to the abomination rapidly fell to ruin—or perhaps it was always in a ruined state. Further invading the premises, the sallow figure gave pause to study the vast antechamber before his sickness overtook it. The creature reached out, took hold of the nearest door and ripped it from its hinges with a simple tug. A mess of stringy ebon tresses clung to the pale scalp, and a pair of rheumy yellowed eyes peered out from behind hollowed sockets in search of the source of of this reality. Gaunt features tightened into a sneer as the abomination continued his hunt. "You seek paradise, nemesis—but do not fathom the cost of your utopia." The Nightreaver stormed into the empty sitting room, hurled an orb of emerald energy at the wall and upon finding no living souls within stalked out. Moving to another door, the necromancer let out a frustrated groan. "Shall I make your utopia mine? Perhaps after every child in this realm has drawn their last breath I'll keep a few as pets." Sniffing the tall gaunt figure scratched furiously at his forearm, jagged and broken nails marring pallid flesh. "Children make the best footstools, you know. Just the perfect height to pry off a boot."
  10. [RB] —a drop in the pool

    Perfection? Indeed perfection was subjective by its very nature. What one son of the the Brand considered a great and noble calling, another son might consider a burdensome punishment. One man's dream could easily be another nightmare. The nature of subjectivity aside, Eudoxia appeared every bit the paradise and that sparkling gem of a building was the paradigm that all sought to emulate. With its denizens enraptured in the haze of euphoria, Eudoxia stood as a metropolis of wonder—the pinnacle of achievement. But, as the blissful and the content roamed through their lives, a darkness seized hold. Beneath that facade of happiness came the ache behind the overly long smile. He walked among them, against the flow of foot traffic, shattering their illusory happiness with every breath. Boot heels collided with marbled walkways only to reveal solid earth as the momentum of one foot's movements carried the other forward. Footsteps gave way to shifting realities and in the wake of each step, glimmers of what were and what might be flashed like fluttering shadows on a wall. Those souls unfortunate enough to cross his path were forced to a jarring halt, their minds struggling with the existence of two realities colliding at once. The stairway leading to the entrance crumbled beneath his feet, spreading out into a series of spider web cracks that shattered and faded to earth. The man stood in the large doorway and raised an accusatory finger towards the denizens within. "You, bearer of the cursed blessing! Step forward and answer my challenge." A forbidden and dark power emanated off of him, the sickly sweet scent of the Nightreavers clung to the walking corpse and demanded an answer from the leader of his mortal enemies.
  11. [TOG] The Floor of the Test [North]

    A part of Arsene—that deeply ingrained lizard brain part, did not want to stand his ground before the charging man. His knee jerk instincts were to flee, something he fought with barely conscious effort. For, as much as his baser instincts demanded he run, his training forced him to wait. Arsene learned that through rigorous training and repetition, it was possible to adapt ones muscle memory to respond nigh instinctually. While he wasn't to the point that his body always moved of its own accord, he was damn close. The axe wielding maniac gave an oddly placed shove with his axe blade, a tactic Arsene easily avoided with a brisk back step. The horizontal swing that came next, proved trickier, forcing the tall hooded youth to leap backwards and pray for sure footing. "Eh." He grunted, as soft earth crunched beneath boots. Grabbing the axe, as he had the needle, didn't sit well with him. The needle, far lighter than the axe simply didn't generate the same kinetic force. If Arsene reached for the axe, he expected to pull back a bloody stump. Playing it safe, the hooded figure danced around the older warriors, using the corpses surrounding them to stumble the larger man up where he could. Now he knew the game. This was where he shined, where his reflexes did the work for him. Footwork proved key in the wake of the crocodilian's rampage as bloodslicked grass and piles of gore tended not to grip the footing as well as unmarred earth. "Tch, tch, tch." He clicked his tongue, circling back to where the attack originated. Arsene's attacker noticed this too and let out a heaving groan as he renewed his feral rush, albeit much slower now. Fatigue began to show, on the man's weather worn face. Sweat shined off his brow and fell in rivulets down his face. Aiming a heavy overhand blow at Arsene, the man lurched forward. Eyes shut against the stream of sweat blinding him, mouth agape in an aching search for air, and arms above his head—the man was ready. With astonishing alacrity, Arsene burst for ward and slammed into the man's chest, ramming the up into his throat. Blood splattered against the side of his hood, as the man let loose a wheezing gasp and fell to the earth. As though on cue, the earth rumbled—promoting Arsene to peer down at the heavyset warrior. "Eh, he didn't look that heavy." It took him a brief moment to realize that the rocky outcropping the distance was, in fact, a living breathing fuck mothering humongous moving monster, but once he did , Arsene awarded it his full attention.
  12. LEGEND| Izral

    Crypt of the Shadow Witch Placeholder.
  13. [TOG] The Floor of the Test [North]

    "Hrm." He had a fondness for strange noises. 'Ticks' or 'quirks' was the preferred nomenclature, but regardless of the name--the habit was considered strange to many. These little idiosyncrasies, however, assisted Arsene in his day-to-day living. They helped him get by, stay focused--to function, in general. "Eh." His breathing evened out after the event with his geriatric attacker and his gait, while at first hesitant and erratic, became the smooth and measured pace of a beast on the hunt. The pair that caught his eye, seemed to have spied him in return. However, they made no attempt to approach, seemingly content with dispatching their current troubles and moving along. With the murderous pair, on the move, it seemed prudent to make smart and follow suit. Keeping his distance, Arsene slowly made his towards the pile of bodies left in the pair's wake. His chief goal was to keep them within line of sight, while keeping himself out of harm's way. His journey through the murder blossoms was interrupted by a hand lunging out to grab his ankle. Arsene's arm moved in conjunction with his body and before the hand could fully tighten its grip, the hooded figure dropped to a knee and rammed the needle into the meat of the unknown assailant's arm. There was a strained cry, but it was hardly discernable beneath the mound of bodies. "Tck." He grunted and returned to his full height, staring at the pair in the distance approaching a rocky outcropping. "H-hey, Mister Hood." A voice called to him from within the grass. "I-I-I'm not gonna hurt ya. I was just thinking...maybe we could team up, like they did. You seem to be able to handle yourself pretty well." Tilting his head, Arsene turned towards the source of the voice the blade in his hand raised and ready for an assault. When nothing came, he exhaled and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Tch. Why would I team up with a coward?" He asked, his voice remained passive, but it was evident from the genuflection in his tone that he sought an answer. "Better odds, right? We could watch each other's back." "Hrm. I don't want you washing my back." "No...I meant like-" "Eh. Either come out and fight me or slither away..." The grass rustled and the voice did not speak again. From the opposite side of the pile a large man with an even larger axe, barrelled towards Arsene flourishing his blood stained weapon as he charged over and aroudn bodies. "Hrrrrm." Arsene grunted. "That's more like it."
  14. [TOG] The Floor of the Test [North]

    And so, at the behest of the administrator, the predators set about devouring their prey. Such was the nature of the tower, though--in one’s constant climb towards the top, it was expected to lay boot prints upon corpses. The culling of the weak, while no doubt cruel, was all part of natural selection and the only way a lowly regular could ever hope to walk amongst the Rankers of the higher floors. Two such predators, already in the midst of their feast, caught his eye in the distant horizon. Best to steer clear of them for the time being, let the big one tire himself out first. The hooded figure was tall, if a bit broad shouldered, making it difficult to place whether he was a large youth or a grown man, but the shape of him was decidedly masculine. Arsene peered about the floor from within the confines of his hood, his lips pursing before exhaling a quiet sigh. He walked along the sea of grass, content in the chaos swirling about him. Despite his best efforts he could find neither blood lust, nor sympathy for his fellow regulars, leaving him in a quiet state of inaction. The end result was not, as many believed, to stack bodies--but rather to survive the selection process. With such a large entry pool, however, it was only a matter of time before… He became dimly aware of a throbbing in his hand, a dull ache that grew to a burning fire. His body reacted, and arm drew up and towards his chest to clutch at the wound. Spinning around the hooded youth, leapt backward to avoid the point of a needle shaped blade aimed at his shoulder. An older woman, crouched and bearing the blade cursed and slowly advanced. Arsene studied her movements, she was a practiced tracker--otherwise he’d have heard her, but she did not seem accustomed to killing. “Still,” He said, his tone accusatory. “The intent was there.” She lunged again, this time at his groin. Prepared for the attack, Arsene sidestepped the strike and reached out grasping the base of the needle, just above her grip, with his left hand, while twisting and slamming his bloodied right fist into her nose. There was a crunch, a cry of pain and the woman fell backwards. No doubt there was some pleading, but Arsene didn’t hear it. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. The hood tilted ever so slightly to peer at the blood dripping from his palm, before he flipped the needle into his hand, stepped forward and drove it into her throat. He took no pleasure in her death, but it made him feel somewhat better. Vengeance had a way of being cathartic. The wound will need to be dressed. For the time being, Arsene needed to keep moving. Gripping the needle tightly, he slipped his bloodied hand into his coat pocket and veered left, slowly circling the first two regular’s he’d noted ripping into people.
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