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About Baltarc

Year 09
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    FFM OTC Winner
  • Birthday 07/11/1996

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  1. IC: Vaíl, Le-Wahi, jungle We return once again to the woman with the bandana on her forehead to find that the bandana is tied now around her neck. What forces could have prompted such a change in the accessory's position is a mystery that shall perhaps never be penetrated by mortal minds. A crack of thunder peals in the distance and, as if on cue, the heavens open their floodgates upon our wearied traveler. Thick droplets stream down Vaíl's mask, clouding her vision. The bandana is returned to its initial position. Vaíl is walking again, and she is again alone. The remainder of her conversation with the leaf-running Lesterin was of passing interest – pleasant but insubstantial. It became clear that their destinations were not aligned; they parted ways accordingly. In hindsight, this outcome was to be expected. Such is Vaíl's curse. To find one's own path is to follow no one and to be followed by no one. Vaíl's path finds her at the base of a small rock outcropping. Night has fallen, and the storm darkens the moon and stars. Vaíl makes camp by the light of both her lightstones. Branches twist out of the wet ground at her command, taking the tarp from her hands and wrapping themselves slowly into a crude shelter against the rock face. Vaíl is hungry again. She withdraws a handful of trail mix from her pack and eats as she works. Something within her has changed without her understanding. The jungle is no longer a suitable home for her. She can no longer stand to be alone. Vaíl is hollow. The rain has soaked through the bandana and drips now into her eyes once again. Thunder once again cracks and the downpour redoubles its efforts. Vaíl grimaces and her branches redouble theirs. The shelter is completed. Vaíl collects her lightstones, removes her pack, and climbs into its marginally drier embrace. Mere miles away, a force of incomprehensible evil enters the world. Vaíl does not and cannot notice its coming; nor can she – nor I – predict the ways in which Makuta's return is soon to alter her path. But perhaps, in time, we both – along with you, reader, should you be so inclined – will find out. Vaíl curls up around her heatstone and drifts into an uneasy sleep.
  2. The prophecy is fulfilled...
  3. Do you all know the story of Bionicle? It's so cool.
  4. We did it lads It's been real
  5. IC: Lekua – on top of volcano or something? What is going on? That's what Lekua had been asking at various levels of his consciousness for the past several-dozen hours. It was an exceedingly long and exceedingly strange journey that had brought him from his treetop home to a dragon's lair on the other side of the world, but there had been much time for reflection on the trek here, and his thoughts were elsewhere. He watched two of his new companions – Seven and Kellin, their names still slightly unfamiliar to him – tend to the crab. Lekua wished desperately that Cyclone were here now. He hadn't seen the bird since they'd descended into the tunnels at Kini-Nui. Kellin spoke up. "So I'm not too caught up with these prophecy things, but is the hangtime normal, or did we mess something up? Because I was feeling really smart about refraction back there. You guys got any clue? I don't want that feeling taken away from me, I liked it." If there was one guaranteed solution to any problem, Lekua felt, it was talking, and talk he did. "OK, I think we can agree on a couple things here. One, something is supposed to be happening right now. Two. Uh. Nothing is happening." Pause. "Which means, three, we probably did something wrong. Or the other possibility, which is that somebody else did something wrong?" "Four—" "That's all I've got right now."
  6. In night mode, the like/upvote counter stays black, so you can't see the number of likes/upvotes.
  7. IC: Vaíl - jungle gang "Howdy." In an unexpected development, we return our attention to the woman with the cool bandana almost immediately. For our convenience, it should be noted that the woman's name is Vaíl.* Vaíl is currently wearing a bemused expression as she gazes upward. The source of her bemusement and the subject of her gaze is an energetic face that materialized above her moments before. Vaíl has already deduced that the intrusion on her solitude does not represent a threat. She deduces now from the shape of said intruder's head that the woman above her is a Lesterin, and deduces further from the grace of her descent that she might be dealing with someone else who understands what it means to look cool. "I killed a--" Vaíl at this point says the name of the squirrel rahi, whose name to us shall simply remain 'squirrel' -- "a ways back." "Um." "What are you doing up there?" *That's V-a-Alt-0237-l to you.
  8. IC: Vaíl, the jungle A woman stands at the crest of a mossy ridge. She is tall and lean, and her pale green armor is scuffed and smeared with dirt. The red bandanna tied around her forehead, however, is in excellent condition. It should be noted that, to members of our readers' species, bandannas serve two primary purposes – to hold back the wearer's hair and to protect the wearer from the sun. The woman atop the ridge has no hair and, in all likelihood, needs not worry about sunburn. Her bandanna, then, serves one major purpose in this instance: it makes her look cool. The accessory succeeds in this purpose to an incredible degree. Some thirty feet below the ridge a bubbling stream cuts its way through the forest and widens lazily into a pool, and at the bank of this pool there is a rahi that most esteemed readers of this text would liken closely to a squirrel. The squirrel does not know that it will in short order become the woman's dinner – it is just a squirrel, after all – but the woman knows this fact quite well; her empty stomach has been so informing her since she laid eyes on it. The woman draws her bow and slides an arrow from her quiver. She takes the beast's life in an instant. She leaps from the ridge, aiming for the far bank of the pool, the power of her mask slowing her descent. In her haste to reach her meal she drops too quickly and finds herself suddenly hovering a foot above the water, ten feet from the shore, and very much not in the mood for a swim. In comparison to how cool she was looking a few seconds ago, on top of that ridge with her bandanna blowing in the wind, her current predicament would probably be quite embarrassing if she had any way of knowing that her actions would be relayed to an audience. The woman sighs and extends a hand toward a tree near the bank. A vine snakes toward her, wraps itself around her ankle, and pulls her to shore. The woman cooks the squirrel's meat with onions and potatoes of her own creation. The dish is filling but bland; in a tragedy of national proportions, she ran out of salt three days ago. Night has not yet fallen, but the woman nonetheless prepares to make camp for the night. As she fills her second canteen, however, she pauses and contemplates matters unknown. And then, for reasons unknown, she repacks her bag and sets off again into the jungle. Where does she go, you ask? Well, when I figure that out, you'll be the first to know.
  9. IC: "I don't suppose I've ever been known to refuse summons from mysterious strangers, so--" Lekua jumped in surprise at a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to see Cyclone's head pushed through the open window. The bird's black eyes watched him expectantly. Lekua shook his head and scratched the bird's feathers with a soft chuckle. He turned back to the visitor. "I don't know about faith, but you've got me curious, and I don't expect you're going to give me any straight answers unless I show up to your party." He shrugged. "I'll be there."
  10. IC: "I've gotta say, in that ... hypothetical scenario, I might find that hard to believe." He turned, now facing the stranger directly. "What exactly are you getting at, friend?"
  11. Logged on today and found by complete coincidence that August 6 was the day I had joined BZPower back in 2010. Thought that was interesting. Then I looked at my last blog entry and realized that I unknowingly made that one on the sixth of August as well, two years ago. Weird. Of course as I write this it's now past midnight were I live.
  12. IC: There was a time when Lekua would have answered the question without hesitation, but now-- He was unsure of the stranger's intentions. How do I "feel"? Is this some kind of psychology test? An interview? He had no interest in either, and besides, the feelings that this Matoran claimed interest in were not so straightforward as they had once been. Thoughts Lekua had not pondered in months swam through his mind as he crossed the hall to the window where the Matoran stood. The city bustled below. "Duty, that was always Stannis's big thing. I don't know if you've met him, but..." With a faint smile he glanced at the stranger, but he couldn't gauge his companion's reaction. "Hm. Unity was pretty convenient, until it wasn't. Destiny--" He shrugged. "It's pretty meaningless, I guess. Me and Stannis were on the same path, we thought, and now I'm here and he's, you know, Stannis." A pause. "Lepidran too, and, well..." He was still having trouble getting a read on this guy. There was more he could say, but - "I'm sorry, I still don't know who you are."
  13. IC: Lekua's curiosity overcame his misgivings. He followed. "Stannis is important, yes," he said carefully, "but I'm far from it. So - who are you, exactly? What do you know about Stannis's companions?"
  14. IC: Lekua frowned, almost imperceptibly. Of all the places he may have anticipated a conversation with a stranger beginning, his travels with the Wanderer were not among them. "I don't have anywhere to be at the moment," he said. "Did you have somewhere in mind?"
  15. Baltarc


    what the cee it's 2017 already
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