BBBBalta

me when arc 3 is near

This is the funniest thread on this website

https://www.timeanddate.com/

What did he mean by this

IC: Aksa, Silver Sea, Ripple Aksa spares two glances of concern, first for her broken spear, and then a much shorter one for her companion writhing on the floor. Then she turns and runs after Morah, feet pounding against the metal floor and heart pounding in her chest. There's more bugs to be squashed.

IC: Aksa, Silver Sea, Ripple Son of a— Aksa drops the splintered spear to the ground in disgust, mostly with herself. She knows immediately which component failed, surely there was no need to double check the stress calculations after the latest modifications, she'd told herself, yeah, brilliant move there, Aksa— Focus. She raises her shield squarely between herself and the visorak, eyeing it cautiously, scanning the room for more attackers. None yet. Her metal hand twitches in anticipation of burying itself in the spider's face, but the time isn't quite right, she feels. Instead, she triggers her mask, focusing on the creature's legs and attempting slow its movement by disrupting their mechanical components.

IC: Aksa, Silver Sea, Ripple Focused as she is on her task, Aksa is caught completely off guard by the creature's sudden attack. She crashes to the floor beneath its weight with a grunt of surprise. Sharp mandibles snap dangerously close to her neck as she attempts to hold the creature off with one hand; the other she extends toward her spear, which has fallen to the floor. The weapon flies to her outstretched palm and she shoves its point upwards with all the strength she can muster, hoping to pierce her attacker's carapace, or at least to get this thing the f*** off her.

IC: Aksa, Silver Sea, Ripple "We got company. Get to stations or hold on!" In an instant Aksa has drawn her shield and activated it. As the ceiling shatters, the device positions itself above her, deflecting the rain of glass. Well, that wasn't supposed to happen. To move at a run could induce panic – either in her traveling companions or in herself – and so Aksa elects to stride purposefully to the point of impact. As Morah examines the projectile itself, Aksa inspects the unpleasant scene left behind. Acid pools on the floor of the ship, the metal beneath blackening and bubbling worryingly as the liquid devours it. Aksa has dealt with such spills on occasion in her lab, but the standard practice of neutralizing the acid with an appropriate base is clearly impossible under these conditions; that is, the utter lack of laboratory-grade chemicals aboard the ship. A glance tells her that no Ga-Toa are nearby to address the situation more professionally. Aksa must improvise, a scenario she finds most inconvenient. Aksa extends an arm – the real one – and moves it in a careful circular pattern. A ring of stone forms around the pool, preventing it from spreading over a greater area. The acid laps menacingly at the narrow walls. Aksa extends both arms now, and raises them, attempting to grow a layer of rock between the metal and the pool. In theory, this task should be possible. Whether she can accomplish it without damaging the structural integrity of the floor is another matter – but then, its structural integrity wasn't doing great anyway.

I've only made a couple posts so far but I'm having a great time. Thanks for running the game!

IC: Aksa, Silver Sea, League airship Cruising speed reached. We should arrive in about an hour. "All right, then." Aksa turns from the window. "About time we got this boat on the road." OOC: open for interaction

IC: Aksa, Silver Sea, League airship "Yeah, glad to be here. You need someone with a ... delicate touch for these things." Aksa casts a meaningful glance toward the monstrosity that has just entered the airship behind them. Why a zyglak has been assigned to this mission is as much a mystery to her as it would be to all sensible people, she feels. "I mean, I suppose having some extra muscle along can't hurt, though I imagine they would've appreciated one of your light shows back at, uh." She thinks for a moment. "You know, whatever rock it was where we just got BTFO'd."

IC: Aksa, Silver Sea – League-controlled island A woman sits on the edge of a dock, watching the sun set. This scene would be at home in many stories, but evidently this is not one of them. Aksa, in spite of her relaxed demeanor, would much prefer for the mission to hurry up and get underway already. Carapar's speech was less than inspirational, and she is currently being subjected to the inane chatter of a pair of Toa behind her. The gentle hiss of the descending airship ramp brings Aksa's vigil to a welcome end. As she stands, one of the Toa makes a declaration. "The time for philosophizing is over for now. We have a mission; it is time to perform our duty to the League of Six Kingdoms." She snickers as she turns. "And thank the spirit for that." OOC: @Keeper of Kraata speaking to Skorm

Name: Aksa Species: Toa Powers: Element: Stone – creation, control, and absorption of stone, rock, and crystals; enhanced strength. Kanohi: Mask of biomechanics (form: great Rau) – The Mask of Biomechanics is a Kanohi that allows its user to mentally interface with machinery and control or influence them, depending on range and complexity of the technology. It also gives the user a minor enhancement of their mechanical strength. The user cannot control the mechanical parts of other beings without their consent but can slow them down. (BS01) Faction: League of Six Kingdoms Description: Matte silver body with pale blue armor and mask. Aksa is shorter and slimmer than the average Toa. Her left arm is a mechanical prosthetic and is of copper and gunmetal coloration. Background: Aksa is an engineer and inventor originating from the southern continent. She is employed by the League of Six Kingdoms for the development of weapons and other technology useful in the war effort. Aksa prefers to field test her own creations. Aksa harbors no strong moral convictions and is primarily concerned with her personal advancement and that of her research. Her loyalty to the League extends as far as their sponsorship of her work. Aided by the use of her mask, Aksa has deconstructed and rebuilt some of her own mechanical components with the intent of improving their strength, durability, and dexterity. These modifications have resulted in chronic minor pains that tend to flare up under heavy exertion. Her left arm was lost under traumatic and mysterious circumstances; Aksa created a mechanical replacement with various enhancements, described under the "equipment" section. Special Equipment: Mechanical arm. As described above, Aksa's left arm is a mechanical prosthetic. The arm may be detached at the mid-forearm and launched at high speeds. The detached section can be controlled remotely. The arm also features a retractable grappling hook and a flashlight. Animated shield. When activated, this shield hovers near Aksa, protecting her while keeping her hands free. This functionality is especially useful when her left hand is detached. The shield's position is controlled via the movement of Aksa's left arm. Mask enhancements. Like most Kanohi in the form of the great Rau, Aksa's mask has lenses over its eyeholes. These lenses may be adjusted to enable telescopic or microscopic vision, though not to the extent enabled by the lenses standard in a great Akaku or Matatu. The lenses also feature experimental night and thermal vision modes. The lenses may be adjusted mentally, but this process takes several seconds. Spear. This is Aksa's Toa tool and primary weapon. After throwing the spear, she can concentrate on it for several seconds and cause it to fly back to her hand. Other equipment. As Aksa is an inventor, she will likely develop more equipment as the game progresses. Such items will be approved by the GM prior to use. Flaws: Aksa is prideful and suspicious. She spends more time in the lab than in the field and has limited combat experience. As most of her equipment is experimental, it is prone to malfunction.

Nobody's happy about it but saltposting in N&D isn't gonna change anything Sure does make it feel like it's 2012 again though

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.

The prophecy is fulfilled...

Do you all know the story of Bionicle? It's so cool.

We did it lads It's been real

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."

IC: Vaíl / jungle A faint smile crosses Vaíl's lips. "Mhm. That's good. Wouldn't want to have to worry about you falling over." Vaíl is rarely talkative around strangers, but this woman's good taste in modes of transportation softens her disposition. "What do they call that in Le-Koro … leaf-running? I've tried it a couple times." Though she has, in fact, tried it more than just a couple times, Vaíl opts to downplay her proficiency for the sake of a possible dramatic reveal.

Seems to happen when viewing any profile

In night mode, the like/upvote counter stays black, so you can't see the number of likes/upvotes.

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.

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 bandana tied around her forehead, however, is in excellent condition. It should be noted that, to members of our readers' species, bandanas 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 bandana, 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 bandana 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 over the water, 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. 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.