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About Hakkums

Year 15
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  • Birthday 09/29/1992

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    Washington, USA
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    I spent a lot of time on these forums when I was in high school; I was involved in the creative outlet community, and especially the text-based role-playing games. I have a lot of fond memories and am looking forward to getting back into it. Other hobbies and interests include running, hiking, photography, reading, video games, playing with my cat, and spending time with my girlfriend. I am an emergency medical technician and want to go to medical school. I will have limited time to engage in the forums, but I'll make a concerted effort! Welcoming new people to talk with and play with, so hit me up if we have any common interests or we start role-playing together.

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  1. Name: Hakava Species: Atzoul (Ba-Matoran / Toa) Description: Hakava is a man with a wary demeanor, and he appears both young and old given his stature and age. He is an average-sized Toa with the typical purple-and-black appearance of the gravity people of the south, clad in black plate armor. He wears an obsidian Kanohi shaped like a Great Hau, clearly aged, and he has emerald green eyes. He appears world-weary, observant, and thoughtful much of the time. He wears white and beige robes as he roams the desert, and traditional garments when he visits the temples and villages. Gender: Male Kanohi: Kualsi, Mask of Quick Travel Elemental Power: Gravity Weapons: One longsword and one throwing spear. Personality: Hakava is introspective, observant, thoughtful, reasoned, and moral. He is a philosopher and a humanitarian. He is compassionate and loyal. He will be honest, and he holds his associates to a high standard, but none higher than himself. He is equal parts skeptical of the gods and humble to the larger logos of nature. He values virtue, duty, and reasoned thought. While his lifestyle has given itself over to hermeticism in the past ten years, he is a cosmopolitan at heart and longs to be present in the world again. Weaknesses: Hakava is a thinker more than a doer, or so he has been for the past ten years. A battle is secondary to diplomacy, but he has trained in martial arts and gladiatorial combat. He is afraid of his past, as he can sense there has been a colossal tragedy and personal trauma there. He is a moralizer, and he will seek to live in accordance with the virtues, yet he can sense his forgotten heartbreak has led him down darker paths in the remote past. He dedicates himself to self-restraint and discipline. Background: Hakava originated on an island far to the south of Mata Nui, removed from much of Matoran civilization. Many of the details of his life before arriving on Mata Nui are shrouded, as he suffered a great bout of retrograde amnesia after he departed his homeland. He vaguely recalls life as a Matoran and philosopher/monk during the height of the Atzoul empire. Atzoul was a cult, and later a civilization, of Matoran dedicated to the virtues of Creation. They abandoned the mundane (used in the religious sense of worldly, daily affairs) culture of the larger mainstream Matoran populous and sought the sacred in the deserts of the far southern reaches of the known world. Braving treacherous, unknown lands, and having an eon to construct, they built an empire that flourished and thrived in harmony with nature. Hakava belonged to a sect of philosopher monks who consulted in government and spiritual affairs during the height of this empire, and he saw it collapse due to what he only knows was a great disaster. On the eve of the disaster, he laid himself in a sarcophagus and awoke a Toa. The remainder of that life is shrouded in mystery, even to himself. He has spent the last ten years largely in isolation, training, studying, and examining his purpose. He has spent much of his time on Mata Nui removed from global civilization, roaming the wastes of the Motara desert between Naho Bay and Leva Bay, as well as the Papa Nihil Reef. Literary & Historical Inspirations: Geralt of Rivia / The Witcher series by Andrzej Sapkowski; Marcus Aurelius and the main bulk of Stoic philosophy; Roman history; the Mediterranean and other classical history/culture.
  2. IC: Kraeis scoffed at the word Toa as he hardly appeared to fit the role. But even through the smoke he could smell the excessive, disgusting amount of alcohol that had gone down the waking man's throat in the last few nights. After a brief pause, he replied quickly to the point. "Collection," he said. He grasped the pole of his halberd and swung it half circle around his shoulder to a cautious, defensive stance, as pirates continued to frolic out the corners of his eyes. "What about ye?"
  3. IC: Kraeis waited a moment for one of his isolated fires to burn a hole in the wall. While he would be paid for services rendered, Kraeis was told he could make the choice between an easy accomplishment and a more entrepreneurial adventure. In other words, money was coming his way either way, but the majority of his profit was aboard that ship. When a chunk of the wooden hull had burned through, a few planks at the top burned away. Breaking off, splashing when they met the water below and sending steam around the ship, embers burning out in midair, a fair sized hole was formed. Using the cargo as steps and a sort of springboard minus the spring, Kraeis sprinted, climbed, and vaulted, his glowing Calix carrying him the extra few yards required. He crashed onto the floor below deck, sprawling in the embers and scraping to a halt. As he lifted himself up off the ground, he noticed Eidolon, his target not much earlier, lying in a daze. And bandits and raiders below deck were waking up, scrambling, scattering in a violent panic.
  4. OOC: Kraeis from Po-Wahi. IC: Never had stealth been a strong suit for armored Kraeis, and yet he crept through the densest brush of the jungle. He had only followed Eidolon a short distance before it became blatantly clear that they both had the same destination. And so now Kraeis left Eidolon to his own path, darting through the woods to the lip of the waterfront, all of the moon's gleam hidden by the thick canopy of the jungle's trees. There, he saw the ship. The beach and dock it was held at were stacked with wooden crates containing arms and cargo. And the most basic thing Kraeis could think of to do was burn down the ship. And so he extended his hands. They exhibited a faint orange glow and smoked every so slightly, and several small projectiles erupted from each hand, sailing and spiraling through the air, whistling all the way into the wooden hull, the mass, the sail, and the night. And at Kraeis will, the smallest embers and a few flickering flames erupted into an intense blaze engulfing the ship.
  5. OOC: Kraeis from Ta-Wahi. IC: An ever dry and blistering wind continued to whip Kraeis' cloth veiled mask. His boots sank into the sand as he struggled to walk against a desert gale, trudging high and low toward the far off rock formation, cutting across the horizon like a stone wall with a door down into the crust. Kraeis had an abundant amount of time to think about his goals on Mata Nui during the voyage from the coast of Ta-Wahi to the sandy beach of the wilderness. He was no mercenary. He had been one in the past, during his travels, and his hand had been forced a few times, but he was freely making the choice to carry out this task. It was because he needed a connection. He would soon find it. The village. Huts were splashed with blood, the ground was splattered. It did not disgust Kraeis because of the massacre. He was barbaric himself, the sight was not foreign. But he was not going to leave such a mess. This work he likened to that of a serial killer. Altering his plan to account for the slaughter was not hard, it just required him to improvise. Kraeis did not hesitate in setting the village on fire, reducing the corpses to ash and scorching the orange sands. He grimaced as he looked through the liking flames into the quarry entrance. Perhaps he would get some attention, perhaps not. Kraeis assumed the pirates were responsible for the killings, an illegal operation gone wrong between cohorts. At first Kraeis agreed to the mission because it was profitable with a low chance of danger, resistance and violence. Now everything was different. He was hired to stop an illegal transfer of weapons, and now the miners were dead, the weapons were gone, and an interception had him involved in a mass murder. All of the sudden, everything shook. Through the flames, Kraeis saw a great plume of dust and debris fly up through the entrance. He thought cave in when he first saw it. But the plume was quickly followed by the crumbling of the ledges. A cave in's worth of dust was replaced by an entire shroud and a massive pile of rubble. The entire mine and all of the formation on top of it had been made unstable by something, or someone. Kraeis walked into the dispersing cloud, climbing high onto a mount of rubble, and then snaking down into the adjacent valley, climbing yet a higher pile of debris. The cloud lingered longer lower, where the cavern had been, and something was shimmering brightly - something large and metal. A mine's worth of minerals appeared through the obscurity. And Kraeis spotted the man he now had to confront. OOC: Kraeis to Le-Wahi.
  6. IC: Like any other settlement, Ta-Koro was bound to have its slum, its avenue of decadence and poverty. Plenty of people ended up living and operating in the back-alleys because they found opportunity prevalent there. Others were prone to self-destructive living and association. And some people were just curious, and they wanted to see the grime at the bottom of the tank. Kraeis was potentially all three. The cobblestone huts piled up, resembling some sort of flavela or mound. At the sound of Kraeis' boots scraping, alert and paranoid eyes glanced from cracks, windows, and keyholes. He saw them duck back behind walls. It was like everyone deserted when he walked in - but that was just how every individual reacted to every other individual. A malnourished Matoran slouched against a wall in the gutter, his arm strung across his withering gut. He looked up shakily when Kraeis approached, and he smiled. "Hail," the Matoran whispered in a worn out voice. "Hail," Kraeis responded. From behind him, another Matoran slinked out of the shadows. "Hail," he too said. "Toa come to these backstreets for one reason, when they're looking to do something Toa don't do. Every time, they want a reward in silver or arms. Yet you always start here, where we have neither." Kraeis began to move along when the Matoran stopped him. "And yet I can. I'm a speaker for someone looking to deal with an occupational hazard." "Hazard," Kraeis repeated. "You wear foreign armor, your affiliations are few. You're looking for work, preferably clean and profitable. You have mercenary and agency experience, no? We need to divert an arms sale from a small colloquial mining village in Po-Koro. Would you be interested in sorting this out for us?" "Colloquial?" was Kraeis' only response. "Borderline backward tribals splintered from the greater Po-Matoran society selling weapons they manufacture from ore they mine. It's an illegal operation, but not very high profile - yet." Kraeis smirked at the description of the dealers."As long as I get paid." OOC: Kraeis to Po-Wahi.
  7. Name: Kraeis Oiliumus ThoerstiusPronunciation: KRAY-iss oy-lee-OO-muhs thow-HEIR-stee-uhsNative Location: Nonuses KrepictRace: ToaGender: Male Alignment: RenegadeClass: MarauderAffiliation: N/AOccupation: N/AStatus: Active Primary Power: FireAbilities: N/AKanohi: Calix, Great Mask of FateWeapon: Halberd Appearance: Kraeis’ armor is barbaric. He dons plated metal boots and greaves, and he wears a tattered hide skirt and loin clothe from hip to knee. He wears a hefty buckle with Krepict runes etched into it, and he wears a hide belt from his left shoulder down across his chest; otherwise, his torso, albeit muscular and powerful, is left vulnerable. He possesses bulky, imposing metal pauldrons with spikes protruding asymmetrically. He wears hide straps around his biceps and hide gloves, and he dons metal gauntlets. His Calix is cast like a traditional Rode but proportional to his face, and he often wears a helm with a slit face plate and two bone horns over it. All metal is black fired steel, all hide is a muted, dark biege, and his muscles are a sort of muted orange color. His eyes are bright orange, a piercing color from behind his helm. However, unlike most in this violent world, Kraeis does not dress anticipating battle after breakfast. He often removes his pauldrons and helm and instead carries himself with a charismatic pose draped in dark robes and a sash. Background: Kraeis was at one time a rogue and a soldier. He was a defender of a barbaric tribe of Matoran living on an obsidian flat upon Nonuses Krepict, a remote, volcanic southern island near Artidax. When he became a Toa, he was banished by the priesthood in conjunction with his ruling chief and council under the commandment of the gods, barbaric gods he worshipped himself. Sometime after, he picked up a bloodquest he wholeheartedly, aimlessly, blindly claims to believe that his barbaric gods gave to him. Kraeis has seen slave pens, gladiator arenas, strategic battlefields, and exotic lands; he has survived all of his northbound travels and endeavors. His time in exile has tempered his desire to fulfill his bloodquest, but it remains at the back of his mind. Otherwise, he is a compassionate teacher and lover, yet an ever brutal fiend in times of strife. He is intelligent and curious, fascinated by culture, ideas, philosophy, and comedy. This sets him apart from the barbarians that banished him. Name: Phaeus Akronz MosirulcPronunciation: PHAY-us ACK-ronze moss-EER-ulcNative Location: Azarab, Dor RennaRace: ToaGender: Male Alignment: ParagonClass: Warrior, PriestAffiliation: N/AOccupation: N/AStatus: Active Primary Power: GravityAbilities: Can sense mass because of the effect gravity has on it.Kanohi: Hau, Great Mask of Shielding.Weapon: Sword, Shield Appearance: Phaeus has the build of an average Toa, strong and agile but not bulky or massive. He stands straight and tall, charismatic, and wears a compassionate, curious expression at all times, a reflection of his stable, level personality, his wonder and ideas, and his desire for knowledge. He wears armor that looks foreign and ancient compared to contemporary Toa armor, but it looks new and not well worn. He was once black and purple, like most Ba-Matoran, like most Atzoul, but his colors have faded completely due to the years he's spent in exposure to the sun and sands of the southern kingdoms. And now he looks like a perpetual statuesque guardian. His Hau has runes marked on the back of it, but they are not apparent to the naked eye. His sword and shield have cultural inscriptions on them as if they were purposely decorated. And his eyes are an ever gleaming astral blue, a characteristic of the Atzoul and their whole bloodline after them. Background: Unknown
  8. Hey! Brutal Legend is awesome!

  9. Hey Hak, long time no talk. What's up?

  10. Lol Merry Christmas to you too, bro. Diggin' the Assassin's Creed emblem, btw. :P Have a great holiday and New Years. :)

  11. merry Christmas Hak ol' buddy

  12. hey hak. my thanks giving was great. i hung out with my cousins and and other relatives. so how about yours?

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