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About EmperorWhenua

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Year 14
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    Senior OTC RPG Judge
  • Birthday 07/23/1992

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    Portland, Oregon

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  1. Are we going to have a Gregor Clegane [aka Ser Robert the Strong] sitch on our hands here?
  2. IC Leklo | Piraka Fortress Ruins, Northern edge of the Lake of Whispers The former alpinist had been deprived of things to climb and overcome thus far in his time on this land called Zakaz. Mountains were much larger there, but also rarer and slopier, not the sheer cliffs and towers Leklo was so used to having back home in Ko-Metru. Challenges—real, blood-roiling, heart-pounding challenges—had not been a vice he'd been indulging in the couple weeks on this strange land, so the prospect of intervening and assisting the closest thing to a toa-brother he knew was a juicy proposition. His mind was rushing through a variety of possible outcomes as he throttled his speeder forward in the night. Chilly, static air rushed past and pounded his eardrums as he charged across the nighttime terrain, narrowly avoiding a shattered tree stump here and a stack of rubble there in his haste. Who was the big brute? he wondered, then shelved the thought. There was no chance for asking questions. He rarely found the time to do so in his old vocation, either. Questions were for the placid moments of solitude and inquisition, not split-second margins for action and preservation. Life was a struggle and it was either do or die; his was to do or die, not to question why. Ataguy would explain after his life was saved. Hopefully. At the last second before Leklo would hit the wall he slammed the breaks and spun the handlebars hard to the right. The speeder hung a very hard turn and disappeared off to the side, but the sudden discharge of momentum effectively catapulted Leklo up from his seat and to the wall of the ruin, and for the split second between the speeder and the wall... he was home. Arms out, hands hooked, body soaring as he braced to catch a handhold and climb the rest of the way. Failure was never an option, and neither was it one there; a slippage and fall meant starting from the bottom. He wasn't likely to die or even get hurt if he didn't succeed, but for once it wasn't his life on the line. His body was ready for this scenario, however, and blinded by darkness or blinded by whiteness it was the same muscle memories that would help him seize a hold. He grasped the wall with incredible force and almost loosed his grips, and if he were a matoran it would have been a certain loss, but Leklo's stronger build as a toa gave him the strength and luck he needed and he managed to hold on. He strained his muscles and pulled himself up, quickly clambering the rest of the way and scrambling over the lip of the ruined wall. He slicked down, fell in a crouch, and instinctively pulled his swords out. Their edges shone with fluorescent hues as his plasma energies were minutely discharged through the blades—all he had been able to do, so far—and let off a soft glow that illuminated his immediate surroundings. And then Kor's demon shadow monster struck, throwing bricks and rubble with abandon. Through the chaos, Leklo caught sight of Ataman and the mysterious warrior a short ways away and charged, aiming to strike swiftly and accurately to maim and dismember the assailant. IC Stannis | Coliseum The wind whipped around Stannis’s body as he fell, fell, fell, tumbling and spinning with the inertia he’d built up. The wind felt harsh, painful even, and the chill nighttime air cut to his bones without the meager shield of his great grey cloak. The city of Metru Nui, a shadowy monolith of death and decay, was glimpsed with regularity, and each time he saw it the city’s horizon grew larger and more constricting as he fell, fell fell. The silverine sheer walls of the Coliseum, a polished gunmetal grey in the crepuscular setting, reflected Stannis’ toa body and his brilliant grey eyes back at him, and with every passing rotation he could observe his powers at work and his mortal body healed bit by bit. The wind sliced through the hole in his chest like some atmospheric razor wire ripped back and forth through a gap, though it was permitted in ever lessening quantities with each spin his body took. Slowly, the howl in his chest narrowed to a whistle—but oh! how it hurt!!—then finally became a whisper and stopped altogether. The massive gash hewn into his chest by the rebel king was woven back together again by the healing abilities of his true nature, the nature to endure and recover; to him setbacks were only avenues and deaths mere experiences. Would he die? He could; he could perish—as Stannis—but Who He Was would return, live on, and grow as it was, after all, his nature to do so. The cycle would go on, on, on. There was no such thing as an End. Not anymore. If Stannis could pray to a god who would hear he would do so, but he was the answer to those same prayers. He was the hunger for knowledge, He was the cry for help in hopelessness, He was the answer to the pleadings for second chances, to “what if?s” and “what now?s” asked by Builders across the eons. He was a god of his own creation and there were no questions to which he would not know the answers. Would he die? He could—and yet he could not. His Destiny was not yet completed, his Duty not yet done, his Wish not yet granted. The cycle was not meant to reset yet and the leylines of Fate still led him to places far and times long—he was certain of it. The fight and subsequent punishment Stannis received from it had weakened his constitution severely. It wasn’t the exertion of the fight, no, there still were plentiful reserves of elemental energy within his body to employ, but his essence was been diminished and evaporated through the injury he’d sustained. Like flax chaff thrown into the breeze the wind had ripped his antidermis from the toa body he possessed and dispersed it into the atmosphere, even as that same viridian spirit earnestly stitched the gap shut. He could still wield his Aspect powers but it took more focus now, and took more time to use them. He was too weak, too weak to fight, too weak to rouse his courage and participate directly again just yet. The Wanderer was always present when he needed to be, no sooner, no later, or at least that was the way things had been. Still… he could still see through his once-brother Oreius’ eyes, the only privilege he’d cared to enjoy with any abandon against his strongest and most honor-bound Desecrated. It was through the seeing-eyes in Oreius’ mind that Stannis could survey the ravaged battlefields of the Northern Continent, the terribleness of Carapar’s jihads, and the dilapidated remnants of the Archives, and finally the slow assault against the Coliseum. Stannis shut his pearly eyes and saw through Oreius’ once again. The deadly duels were splintering. Pridak was removed from his exo-suit, humbled but not yet defeated, and Oreius' skirmish with Achro had been interrupted. A return to the throne room would mean certain combat if Stannis were not careful, but there was not much option for the Wanderer as the last window of opportunity to return was near and not large; it would take much of his dwindled might and addled mind to muster his second defenestration before the ground would embrace him otherwise, which it was also sure to do if he did nothing. He straightened his body and pulled it upright, aiming to drop himself foot-first into an inky hole of shadow that was all but invisible in the nighttime sky. The most glaring thing detectable was the sudden simple omission of his falling body. …
  3. IC Leklo | Abandoned Fortress, Northern edge of the protodermis lake "Ataman," Leklo eked under his breath, more a verbal processing than for anyone else's benefit. "Ataboy? Atamai." He knew that man—briefly, albeit, but he was familiar enough that he recognized him in an instant as a fellow survivor from Metru Nui and another of the Great Disc searchers. It seemed like Dume's newly created team of toa had better survivorship odds than anyone in this land called Zakaz. "I see them. The toa is one Atamai. He was created toa shortly after Kor and I." The former alpinist only studied the lay of the land for a second before he nodded once to Ultan. Whatever Atamai was doing with whoever that was was not going to go well from the looks of it, and the telltale motions of aggression and defense were easy to notice. Atamai was not a friend, but he likely suffered the same basic sense of wayward destiny as the rest of the Toa Dume, lacking a real focus for the powers they were so suddenly bequeathed and instead roving the world for answers and solutions. He was a man worth helping, if for nothing else but principle and to aid another Metru Nui native. "I will climb the walls and flank them. Climbing... is my speciality." He took off on the speeder, sprinting across what space was left between he and the ruin, and then he vanished under the cover of night.
  4. IC Leklo | Between Metro-Koro and Metru Nui While they had been traversing the lands between the two cities the former alpinist had been considering matters of logistics. Their speeders were fast and skimmed the ground with levitating repulsers, but they were not airships or gliders in truth and there was no telling how well they would operate over the waters that held untold dangers within. Thankfully, he and Korruhn had scouted the region well and thoroughly in the days succeeding the cataclysm, and from those misadventures they'd gleaned some information though they had no way of telling when it would turn to be advantageous to know. "Just a thought," Leklo's gravely voice garbled over the intercom between the speeders, "but the lake-moat-thing is thinner and shallower on the north side. It would be easier to cross to Metru Nui from that angle. Let's check it out. I have no intention of us joining the living corpses within the waters." @The Captain @Crimson Jester
  5. I'll leave the discussion open and won't rebut anything here, but I do want to offer a perspective to this remark, Nato: Yes, we are admittedly on a time crunch. But in my opinion, that's reason to be creative, not desperate. This game isn't about any one character achieving their bucket list, it's a collaborative effort featuring all our characters across this setting; we cannot prioritize our own PC to the detriment of everyone else's, and especially not to the detriment of good storytelling. Every role-player should be working to collaboratively engage with each other and not push our own agendas just because we see the time tick away. EDIT: Also, that hastiness is a direct pull from the metagame. We should not be using OOC information to direct our IC actions.
  6. I have to air some grievances—sorry not sorry—and call a slight foul about the last Okuo post. I wonder if anyone else shares similar trepidations. @Onaku, is Okuo a Disney princess? I ask because it's wholly implausible for anyone less than Cinderella to charm a wild bird-thing with a few pieces of jerky and claim it as a friendly steed in about as much time to watch the opening theme to LOST. That's just not how that's supposed to work. Even a D&D ranger character at high level would not be able to do such a feat without some practice and really good rolling, and Okuo is definitely not a ranger-type character with animal handling skills—his profile doesn't suggest that at all, anyway. Finding a weird creature wandering alone in the underworld is fine enough, as is traversing across a subterranean border, and even befriending the creature is cool storytelling, but the sheer number of things done in such rapid succession is troubling to me. And I find any of this incredibly unlikely to have been cleared by either of the GMs, either. It seems cheap, doesn't it? A deus ex machina that not only begets a character an ally but also conveniently was used to allow said character traversal across three (at least) whole hexes into a whole other section of the game. All that in the course of a single post. If this were an epic-style story where Okuo (or any other character who does such stunts) was the singular protagonist this would be A-okay, but this isn't just Okuo's story, it's everyone's, and the narratives should be governed by what we write and plan well in advance or worldbuild after getting inspiration and clearance from what we already know about the setting. This chapter of Okuo's story does not appear based at all on what already exists in the setting and if anything stands in stark contrast to the mechanics already set in place for mass-traversal. Once could make a comparison between this bird-thing to an airship, but airships (or mutated wings) are pre-ordained by GMs and have mechanics for how quickly they can carry someone over land. All in all, I just want to point out how this latest stunt purely abuses the freedom of worldbuilding we already possess in this game, and thoroughly appears to be a simple asspull of a random perk that doesn't add anything interesting to the character and instead invalidates the careful, measured storytelling of arcs done for characters like Korruhn, Stannis, and Knichou (to give but a few examples). If we all could just make stuff up without caring for the plausibility of it and dump our characters willy-nilly about the landscape this game would be a lot less fun—a fun that the post was not. This is a collaborative game where everything takes roleplaying and time to keep things fun and exciting for everyone involved. Leg godt. And yes, I'm directly wondering what other people think about this sort of thing.
  7. As long as the narrative demands it, methinks. You don’t have to depend on the GMs to role play every environmental obstacle, just play through the Command function, verbally process it IC, and if Rose’s words strike some more primordial thought process or memory in Saybo’s head then use that to overcome the Command function. Just write stuff out and see what sticks.
  8. So who's going to actually make Pridak bite the dust? C'mon, hit him! XD
  9. IC Stannis | Coliseum-ish Stannis fell.
  10. IC Yumiwak | Panda II I set my cake back down on the plate. It had only scarcely touched my lips. My mind whirred with ideas and conjectures big and small—mostly big—on the ramifications of Zataka's statement. I threw the whole slice of cake in my mouth. Finally, after what seemed like a long moment of her stewing and me chewing, I asked, "Sho exactly hoo an' whart are you? An' whart augh ooo doing here??"
  11. For everyone's reference and information: Stannis, Aspect of Fate & Control Species: Aspect of Makuta (in a Toa of Stone’s body) Faction: Himself, Aspects, Mata Nui (ostensibly, actually in pretense) Brief Description: Stannis has possessed the body of a toa for almost forever. His body stands a little taller than most toa and looks strikingly heroic in appearance, with long bones and lithe muscle in a combination of blacks, browns, and tans. He wears a large mottled, dense dark gray cloak, however, and most of the time the only things visible are his, mask, hand and feet. His eyes are a uniform grey and impossible to catch subtleties in, though they seem to drink in everything in front of Stannis. He only has one spear left which he wears slung across his back when not using it as a walking stick. Background: Stannis, or rather the man known by that name, is a former member of an ancient team of Toa Hagah under Helryx who eventually led the separate team called the Toa Maru, a man who’s adventures are long since forgotten in the Histories, but his Destiny seems to remain unfulfilled even though his former teammates have all been turaga for centuries now. Talk about him is a strange mixture of emotions, and depending on who you ask Stannis is either a hero or pariah, wizard or illusionist, high priest or false prophet, selfless historian or selfish warmaster. One thing almost everyone agrees on is that Stannis is an enigmatic figure who travels and intercedes with no pattern, and always—somehow—is always where he needs to be when he needs to be. The truth was that Stannis was not really “Stannis”—but instead a malevolent spirit who long ago possessed a willing Toa Hagah in Helryx’s employ, then devoured the toa’s psyche and completely inhabited the body as his own. Since then, he had run under Mata Nui’s radar, gaining the trust of the Matoran, playing as a high priest for Mata Nui while secretly trying to undermine the Great Spirit’s power supply of deaths. His goals were always nebulous and closely guarded, and insofar as anyone understood he was simply Stannis, leader of the Toa Maru, a weird old toa and a wandering historian of the world. When the other active Maru transformed into turaga Stannis declined to do so, saying he was not ready, but in truth he simply did not possess the knowledge or ability to sacrifice his toa energies like the others. Powers and abilities: Despite starting out as a user of Shadow elemental powers, he can currently only access the inherent Stone element of the body because his psychological synapses meshed completely with the toa body’s physiology. After millennia of practice, however, Stannis became an accomplished elementalist with incredible power and finesse with his powers capable of almost every feat imaginable with Stone. As a bonus of his body’s element, Stannis is extremely physically strong, surpassing most save exceptionally brutish species or beings boosted by Pakari. As an Aspect of advanced station and progress, he has the ability to use kanohi and a Kraata power of the 5th level. His power is in Quick Healing, which causes him to immediately recover from any serious wounds or injuries. He can also still desecrate followers, gifting a Kraata ability at the 4th level to his whim in exchange for a favor. Furthermore, he possesses the following powers and taboos: —“Wandering,” the colloquial term for his ability to sense the leylines of fate around him —The ability to telepathically communicate with his desecrated followers on the same plane —The ability to see through the eyes of his desecrated on the same plane —The ability to possess his desecrated on the same plane through shadow puppetry —The ability to teleport to the shadow of his desecrated while on the same plane Grand Wish: Stannis wishes to become a God of Soothsaying in order to be the fount of knowledge for the universes, to be at the crux of the past and the present, a living Oracle deity. Why: When does one cry to the heavens to petition a force they cannot see, a deity they cannot hear, and a god they have no proof of? When does one beg for mercy or power or second chances? It's only when at their most powerless and desperate hour that one asks for help from a power they cannot prove exists. Stannis embodies the Builder's desire to understand why things happen, and the basal wish to control their uncontrollable fortunes. Stannis understood the follies of gods before him and the errors of Builders from the past and wants to do things better by exercising the loose-leashed but deeply conscious control other deities have failed to wield. How: Infiltrate the Ark Possess a toa Desecrate a follower Gain the trust of the Builders [not revealed yet] [not revealed yet] [not revealed yet] Mask and tools: Stannis wears a Kanohi of Conjuring, which allows him to very carefully program a power into the mask if he verbally specifies the power and its limitations. He usually does this in the form of a prayer or litany, and typically before a battle as programming the mask in the midst of fighting is extremely hard to do. His chosen weapon is a spear with elaborate tips, which he is very proficient at using as both as throwing and melee weapon. Flaws: Stannis is hampered somewhat by the body he possesses, and as a result of his age is slower and less agile than he used to be. Like all Aspects, he is a creature of gaseous substance, and while his quick healing ability has preserved his life many times he must still replenish his essence if it has been injured too much. If his body were to be destroyed to the point that his healing could not save him he would perish with his body and not be able to simply remain incorporeal.
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