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Eyru

Wasteland

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There is shadow under this red rock,

(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),

And I will show you something different from either

Your shadow at morning striding behind you

Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;

I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

-T.S. Eliot, "The Waste Land"

 

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness,
starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking
for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night

-Allen Ginsburg, "Howl"

 
* * *

 

1.0 – Intro
You awake.
 
When did you lie down to sleep, and for how long? You know not the answers. Your memory retreats to the darkest corner of your mind, leaving nothing but your name. You know your name... or you think you do. Perhaps it is only a fragment of sound, a piece of something you used to be called.
 
Whatever it is, that name will serve for now.
 
Your eyes are weak, but your surroundings come into focus as you blink the dust away. You lie upon grey sand, underneath a grey sky. Low-hanging clouds threaten rain, but the surrounding desert bears no witness to the threat. Everything is parched and dead. This land has been thirsty for so long, it has forgotten the taste of water.
 
You struggle to your feet. In the distance, you can make out mountainous silhouettes rising above the endless expanse of dusty land, their peaks lost in the clouds. Before them, yet still many miles away, you see a black tower jutting out from the sand. Its foundations obviously long decayed, it leans over the desert like a dead tree, perpetually on the verge of crashing to the ground.
 
Your gaze drifts downward; you see a settlement (if it can be called even that) only a mile or so off. There- that's where you must go. Perhaps the settlement will have water, and some shelter against the bitter wind that begins to pick up, pulling at the sand and at your skin. Perhaps its inhabitants can tell you where you are.
 
Or perhaps it is deserted, like the rest of this desolate land.
 
But you have no other options, so you begin to trudge across the sand. You are desperately thirsty, and your muscles ache; you feel like you have not used them for a very long time. But you are strong enough to walk, at least, and you reach the outskirts of the settlement within half an hour.
 
As you approach, you realize the shelters you saw from a distance are little more than pieces of rusty metal hammered together and erected over holes dug in the sand. One or two have four walls and a roof; the rest can't even be called huts. You attempt to call out, but nothing more than dusty cough escapes your throat.
 
It's enough to alert the inhabitants to your presence. First one pair of eyes, then another, then another; you see gleaming orbs appear in the cracks of each shelter, but their owners say nothing.
 
“Please...” you whisper. “Water...”
 
A long silence follows, then a Matoran emerges from one of the larger shelters. Clad in dark green-brown armour (the metal almost indistinguishable from the rust), he carries a crude spear in one hand and a canteen in the other. He eyes you warily, then speaks.
 
“Wh'are you?”
 
His voice is half-strangled by a thick accent, but you understand well enough. You tell him your name.
 
“Don'now you,” he says with a frown. “Where y'come from?”
 
You point back across the sand, and his frown deepens. “No'ne comes from there.”
 
You shrug. He waits, mulling this over, then tosses you the canteen. You barely catch it, fingers scrabbling greedily over its surface. The water inside is lukewarm and tastes metallic, but you don't care.
 
Sated, you hand the tin back. The Matoran takes it, then beckons for you to follow him deeper into the settlement. You figure he could have killed you by now if he wanted to, so you might as well follow. Perhaps you will find the information you seek.

 
2.0 – Overview
Welcome to the Wasteland.
 
It is a vast desert, dry and dead, overhung by dark clouds that promise rain but deliver only acid. Everything is bleached grey and brown, from the harsh sand to the bleak mountains to the handful of villagers who manage to scrape a living out of the rocks. Little lives here, and less survives.
 
You are a being who has awoken on the sands a little south of the Settlement. You do not remember how you got there or even who you are; all you remember is your name. Travelling north, you have been allowed to make whatever living you can in the Settlement, which its inhabitants call Canus.
 
Canus is populated by roughly two dozen Matoran who do what they can to survive. No Toa live here; the villagers say that all Toa serve the Queen, who lives in her Tower to the north. The Queen controls the only fresh spring in the Wasteland, trading water for artifacts and supplies scavenged from the desert.
 
The villagers are all half-mad —it's the only way to cope with an eternity of barely surviving— but most are relatively harmless until you threaten them or their belongings. Each day, some of them venture into the Wastes to scavenge what materials they can find to trade for water. At night, when the desert turns bitterly cold, they will stay in their huts and swap stories, each more outlandish than the last. Perhaps there is some truth in their tales, but it's not an easy job distinguishing the two.
 
A stranger in this land, your destiny is up to you. Whether you wish to brave the Wastes or merely survive another day in the Settlement, the choice is yours. Be wise in your decision: the desert holds many mysteries, but it is not forgiving to those who dare to seek them.

 
3.0 – Locations
The Settlement, named Canus by its inhabitants, lies on a plateau of sorts, elevated above the Wastes. The ground is rocky and barren, but some few things manage to survive here, including the villagers. The Settlement itself is little more than a collection of shacks built of rusty metal and canvas, material scavenged from the Wastes.
 
To the north of the Settlement stands the Tower. Once a proud iron spike that rose high into the sky, it now leans precariously to one side. It is here that the Queen makes her court, and it is also here where the only spring in the Wasteland can be found.
 
To the north, beyond the Tower, lie the Black Mountains. Tall and jagged, their peaks pierce the clouds. No one in living memory has scaled them, or crossed through them to see what —if anything— lies beyond.
 
To the west and the south lie the Wastes, a vast desert bordered by low cliffs. It is a deadly place, ever threatened by acid storms and terrifying sandstorms. It is here the villagers scavenge most of their metal and inorganic supplies, but few dare to venture farther than a mile or two, fearing the storms that may rise up at any moment.
 
To the east lie empty sands. Beyond them, Raka, a legendary city made entirely of metal, is said to have been taken over long ago by nightmarish beasts. No one is sure if the city or the beasts really exist, but anyone desperate enough to make the journey is never seen again.

 
4.0 – NPCs
NPCs (or Non-Player Characters) are characters played by the staff to advance the plot and give colour to the world. These characters usually stay in the background, speaking only when spoken to or when the plot demands. More NPCs may be revealed as the game progresses.

4.1 - Major NPCs
These NPCs are played exclusively by the staff and may have a role in the game's plot. They are “major” only because they're named; you may attempt to attack them, kidnap them, bargain with them, etc. However, be wise in your decisions, as some of these NPCs are much more powerful than you.
 
The Blue Queen is the self-proclaimed ruler of the Wasteland. No one would say it to her face, but this Toa of Water is often referred to as the Mad Queen, as she is unpredictable, pleasant and hostile by turns as her fancy pleases. At some point in time, she took control of the only spring of fresh water in the Wasteland and has kept it under close guard ever since. This is the key to her power: without that water, nothing in the Wasteland could survive.
 
Takava is the right hand of the Queen, guarding the Tower and the spring it houses. Thin and menacing, his armour is bleached white as bone, lending him a skeletal appearance.
 
Nua has led the Settlement since time immemorial. It was this Turaga who first struck the bargain with the Queen to allow his villagers to trade scavenged goods for water. That was many years ago; now he spends most of his time in his hut, lost in dreams of the past.
 
As Nua slips deeper into his memories, Maru, his right hand, has taken on more and more of the Settlement's responsibilities. This Matoran is thoughtful and cautious, and seems more sane than most.

4.2 - Minor NPCs
The Settlement is populated by roughly two dozen Matoran. These NPCs are entirely average. They can be played by the staff, but regular players may take control of them for brief interactions.

 
5.0 – Player Characters
The two primary rules regarding character creation: players may only play as Matoran, and each profile must include a legitimate weakness. For best results, use the profile template below:
 
Name: (what are you called?)
Race: (what type of Matoran are you? See section 5.1 below for available types & passive abilities)
Gender: (male, female, neither, or other?)
Mask: (you may possess one powerless mask.)
Abilities/Skills: (what are you good at?)
Weapons/Equipment: (what weapons & equipment do you carry? See section 5.2 below)
Appearance: (what do you look like?)
Personality: (what are you like? List your likes, dislikes, pet peeves, etc.)
Weaknesses: (list any flaws you have. This section is mandatory. See section 5.3 below)
 
5.1 - Matoran Types & Passive Abilities
Ta-Matoran (Fire): enhanced heat tolerance.
Ko-Matoran (Ice): enhanced cold tolerance.
Ga-Matoran (Water): able to hold breath for longer periods of time.
Le-Matoran (Air): enhanced agility.
Po-Matoran (Stone): enhanced strength.
Onu-Matoran (Earth): enhanced night vision.
Vo-Matoran (Lightning): resistance to electric shocks.
Fa-Matoran (Magnetism): internal compass & good sense of direction.
Su-Matoran (Plasma): eye protection against bright light & limited heat tolerance.
Ba-Matoran (Gravity): resistance to gravitational pressure.
De-Matoran (Sonics): enhanced hearing.
Bo-Matoran (Jungle): innate understanding of plants & resistant to poison.
Fe-Matoran (Iron): enhanced endurance.
Ce-Matoran (Psionics): resistance to mind control & telepathy.
Av-Matoran (Light): able to instinctively alter armour colour.
Shadow Matoran: not permitted to play. Shadow Matoran profiles will not be approved.
 
5.2 - Equipment & Weapons
Your character wakes on the sands with nothing. Therefore, any equipment and weapons they possess must have been scavenged from the Wastes, or made with scavenged materials. Advanced technology is nonexistent, and basic tech is unreliable.
 
5.3 - Weaknesses
All characters must possess a minimum of one legitimate weakness or character flaw. Perfect characters are no fun to interact with, and they quickly become boring to play (trust me). Your character doesn't have to be paralysed from the waist down, but should have some flaw more hindering than an allergy to chocolate. Below are some examples, but feel free to come up with your own!
 
Some examples of appropriate weaknesses
Easily influenced by others.
Gets tired quickly.
Easily influenced by emotions.
Hot-headed.
Poor vision.
Missing left hand.
Doesn't know how to fight.

 
6.0 – Rules & Guidelines
This RPG is largely sandbox, with character allowed to go and do whatever they like. That said, there are a few things to keep in mind:
 
i. All BZP rules apply.

ii. Play fairly. Coming up with new equipment or skills out of nowhere, dodging or blocking all attacks, and dishing out absurd amounts of damage are all examples of godmodding, which is no fun for other players. Getting your hands on functional weapons and equipment should be difficult; simply pulling them out of your back pocket is frowned upon. (Remember: this is a Wasteland. It's not supposed to be easy!)

iii. Keep in-character and out-of-character knowledge separate. This is an important distinction to make: your character's knowledge is separate from your own knowledge as a player. A Matoran living in the Settlement won't be aware of another Matoran discovering a haven beyond the mountains unless someone comes back and tells them.

iv. Play your own character. You may control some NPCs to a degree, but leave player characters to their owners, unless you have their permission. This is especially important in combat: you do not decide whether your attacks land; that is up to the player of your opponent.

v. Use the acronym 'IC' (In-Character) when speaking as your character, and use the acronym 'OOC' (Out-Of-Character) when speaking as a player in the game topic. This helps to distinguish between character knowledge and player knowledge.

vi. All profiles must be approved by staff before playing.

 

* * *

 

Discussion Topic

Edited by Eyru
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Chapter 1.0 – Come In Under the Shadow

 

Boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Ozymandias”

 

 

IC

He watched the sands, and the sands did not change.

 

They were grey and brown and shifted with the bitter wind, but they did not change. Never had he seen a spark of green blossom against the expanse of empty wilderness, and he did not believe he ever would. He could watch the desert for a thousand years, weary eyes never blinking, and never see a change. Never see life bloom where it had not before. Never see a finger of cold, clear water trickle through the dead earth.

 

The sands did not change, and Maru knew it well.

 

Thrusting his spear into the sand, he reached for the canteen slung over his shoulder on a leather strap. The water inside sloshed gently as he pried off the cap, and his practised ears could tell how much was left without looking. Almost half empty.

 

The scant mouthful of water was tepid and sour with the taste of tin, but Maru couldn't remember ever drinking anything else. He licked his lips, careful not to waste a single precious drop. Water was life. He was one wasted mouthful away from dying on the ground.

 

This, too, he knew well.

 

As he replaced the canteen, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He peered carefully across the sands, and watched as a figure gradually crested the ridge to the south. It was still a mile or so away, but he thought he could make out its shape. Two arms, two legs. Upright. Clad in armour – blue? Green? Hard to tell.

 

Maru picked up his spear and turned back to the Settlement, the only thing resembling shelter in this barren place. His slow, steady steps carried him through the shacks that passed for houses, each rickety structure built of what few materials the Matoran could afford not to trade away. Two of his villagers were here, mending weapons and reinforcing shelters. The rest were scavenging the Wastes.

 

He ducked into one of the larger shelters, a hovel he'd built with his own hands a long time ago. He wasn't sure how long ago – time was slippery when nothing changed. He had once tried to count days with scratches on a piece of metal, but gave up when he realized there was no point. There was no day to count down to, and no day to count forward from. Every day was the same, every night was the same, and the sands did not change.

 

“Nua,” he said. “Another'on.”

 

A pair of green eye blinked awake. Their owner sat in a crude chair with a square of ragged canvas for a blanket. The Turaga rubbed his eyes.

 

“What?” he said at last. His voice was low and rough like gravel. “What is it?”

 

“Another'on,” Maru repeated. “Matoran. From south. Not here yet.”

 

Nua frowned. “Another? How many is that?”

 

The Matoran shrugged. “Too many. The more come, the farther we need'a go.”

 

“What else can we do? Turn them away?”

 

Maru shrugged again.

 

The hut was silent. Nua stared at the ground, then sighed. “Go welcome the traveller. If Atanu sends them under this shadow, then we will be faithful to watch over them.”

 

The Matoran nodded. Leaving the Turaga to his chair, he ducked back out into the grey light.

 

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OOC: Watch me screw up. If I do let me know. Anyway, here goes.

IC: Keoni

Nothing but sand. Only sand, as far as she could see. Or, at least as far as her dusty visor let her vision go. She roughly wiped it with her arm. Distant mountains. She supposed that there would likely be more there than there was here, because as much sand as this wasteland had, sand didn't amount to much. Just a whole lot of nothing and frustration. Off over there. A...village, she surmised. Some ramshackle huts, made of scrap iron and metal beams. More cover from the elements than a sand dune, she supposed. Perhaps the residents were friendly. Or at least not hostile. She hoped for the former. She took one last look around. Nothing else. It wasn't much of a choice to make. It was barely a choice, considering her situation.

 

She headed off, towards the village.

 

After a minute or two of walking, a gravely crunch under her every footstep, the tone changed a little, to something a little more solid. This was the village, alright. As she had observed, a few ramshackle huts. For now, it was more than anything she was likely to find by stumbling out into the wastes and dying. She was fine with this. Considering her surroundings, she was surprised they had gotten it to this size. You could say 'pleasant' surprise, but such things were probably a rarity in reality. Only a few other Matoran appeared to live here. Not much of a surprise. This place was probably the most densest population center for several mio, if not more. If there were other settlements. For now, unless the locals decided they didn't like her presence, she decided she would stay.

OOC: Keoni open for interaction

Edited by SnowyAegis

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IC: Krahno

 

Brown. Brown everywhere.

 

That was the first thing that came to my head. There was brown everywhere.

 

I opened my eyes. Where am I? I felt blank. I knew I had some sort of knowledge, but no experiences to apply it too. Like the knowledge to process thoughts. Or just to know. I knew I could know. It's truly and interesting feeling. I couldn't quite make sense of it, so I stopped trying.

 

Who am I?

 

Krahno. I sat up with a jolt. That word came naturally, almost as if it were spoken. What's a Krahno? After another second of comprehension, I realized that the word came to me as soon as I wondered who I was. So was that...me? All of these thoughts made my head hurt. I shook my head and attempted to rise.

 

Once on my feet, I was able to get a better view of my surroundings. Not that that helped much. It all still looked very brown. Except... I squinted to see; some small structures lay silhouetted in the distance, barely visible on the gray skyline. That, I decided, would be my destination. There was nothing where I was, and I was beginning to get restless to find something, or else I think I might lose my mind.

 

OOC: My apologies if that was a tad extensive; I never quite know how to begin these kind of things.

Open for interaction, btw.


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IC: Moega

Where am I?
Flashing lights, concussions...

That's all I could remember.

I looked down on myself.

My form looked....different, yet familiar.

I was surrounded by brown, featureless sand.

Everywhere.

Everywhere is sand.

A figure, over there.

I decided to walk towards it, in hope of answers.

OOC: Approaching Krahno

Edited by The Wolverine

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IC (Maru)

 

Sand crunched underfoot as Maru made his way through the settlement, canteen slung across his chest and spear in hand. He nodded to Nix as he passed -one of the few Matoran who had remained behind today, electing to build or mend instead of braving the Wastes. Nix was a good worker, and Maru liked her for that reason. The desert did not forgive the lazy, and neither did he. He hoped the newcomer would be industrious, for its own sake. While Nua was inclined to be generous, Maru knew that there was little room here for anyone who couldn't pull their own weight.

 

The newcomer had made it to the edge of the village. Brown armour. Looked strong. Carried a makeshift axe. Maru kept his own weapon at the ready, but tried to look friendly. None of the newcomers had been violent. Yet.

 

"H'llo," he said to Keoni. "Who're you?"

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IC: (Hekua)

i believed
in a world right in front of me,
​but now, that's gone


​Her eyes flickered to life.
The black-armored Matoran rose from the sands. She wasn't sure how she had ended up in this position, but she was sure that a dulled, damaged sword sticking out of the ground nearby belonged to her. She grabbed it and dusted it off a bit. The familiarity of the weapon was comforting. She looked over the horizon. There was sand for miles, but she knew there had to be something out here, somewhere to go.
She began her trek.


​OOC: Hekua OFI.

Edited by Pat Lee

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IC: Krahno

 

As I walked toward the structures up ahead, I began to feel a most unpleasant sensation washing over me. My throat began to turn dry, and I developed a dull pain in my head. My aching amnesia brain told me that I was dehydrated, and I needed water. I started lengthening my strides. I felt that I must get to the structures I saw up ahead, seemingly the only somethings out here in this wilderness.

 

The seconds dragged on. I cannot say how long I went on for, though I didn't think it was particularly long. The structures were slowly coming closer, and for a second I thought I could just make out some smaller shapes moving around it. I quickened my pace. I needed to reach there, I thought, where I could finally meet whatever lived here, and possibly get something to drink.

 

Something caught my eye. I skidded to a halt, kicking up a gray-brown tinged sand. I strode closer, dropping to a crouch in investigation. It was a small piece of some sort of black material, buried halfway into the earth. I stretched out my hand and picked it up, letting the sand fall from it's folds. It was nothing but a small piece of some sort of canvas material. I carefully folded it up and clenched it tightly in my fist. If this wasteland was as barren as it seemed, then anything I could find would be helpful.

 

I stood back up, intending to resume my journey, when something made me stop dead. From behind me I could hear the distinctive crunch of sand being trodden on. I wheeled around to see what was approaching me.

 

It was another figure, slightly larger than me in worn black armor. They walked toward my location with their head turned in my direction.

 

"Hello?" I called out in what I hoped was a friendly sounding tone, "Who're you?"


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IC: Gapori

 

There's not a lot to keep you busy in Canus.

 

No books, no boardgames, no anything. Just scrap metal, sand, sand, more sand, rocks, and a bunch of deranged vagabonds with imaginary friends. 

 

'Course, I'm not one of them.

 

Not yet, anyway. I mean, I've only been here a month, and my armour's already lost most of its pigment. If I'm not dead in a few weeks (which I most likely will be), it'll start to rust. Next up is me losing my mind, and after that, probably my dignity. Little does anyone know that I'm only a few months away from turning this place into my own private bathroom.

 

Not like they'd give a hoot. They're insane, y'know?

 

So yeah, life's looking pretty swell. Here I am just chilling in this dirty hut, hanging out with Jazz Hands. Dude's hands won't stop shaking, and he looks like he's about to shank someone half the time. I'd play a game of bloody knuckles with him but I think the stress would get to me, so we've been playing roshambo for the past hour.

 

Thrilled to be here.

 

OOC: Gapori open for interaction.

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IC: Krahno

 

Up close he looked much larger than from a distance.

 

"The name's Moega, I think. I just got here." He looked about twenty times a strong as me, but the tone of his voice sounded friendly. I was worried he would crush my hand in a handshake, but I outstretched my hand to meet his.

 

"M'name's Krahno." For a second I was shocked to hear myself assume the name that I had...thought only moments before. I shook my head and continued on. "I'm headed over to those things over there," I said, indicating the structures, "maybe we can travel together. Where're you headed?"


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IC: Moega

Structures...

Structures....usually mean life, right?

"I don't know. Structures usually mean life though, so I think that's our best bet."

I suddenly noticed the weight on my side. I opened the satchel on my person, and inside was a rusty axe. I left it in there for the time being.


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IC: Krahno

 

"Indeed they do" I said, anxious to get on with our journey. I was starting to get very thirsty. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have some water on you, wouldja? I have a, uh, a nice piece of canvas I can offer in enchantment" I joked, in order to get a judgement of personality. Unless, of course, he did have water and was willing to trade for a scrap of cloth, in which case win-win situation for both of us.


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IC: Aurelius - Canus. 

 

Sometimes, the Fe-Matoran wondered what kinds of things the other settlers of Canus thought about. Were they desperately trying to remember their pasts? Searching hopelessly for some way out of the wasteland? Feeling empty and dead inside, overcome by dejection and misery? 

 

Aurelius felt none of that. He was a creature of habit, and had grown used to his place here. He'd been here so long that he felt like part of the Wasteland. He didn't know any other life, thus he had nothing to compare this one to. He was content with the monotonous slog through the sands each day, scouring the wastes for anything that might be of use, then traipsing back through the dunes to Canus. 

 

Right now, he was doing exactly that, returning to Canus with a fresh haul of scrap hanging from his bandolier. His heavy footfalls left deep prints in the sand behind him, the sun overhead mercilessly blazing down as always. Just another day in the Wasteland. 

 

OOC: Open for interaction. 


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IC Dessimus

 

Life is a dream, and so far we've only had nightmares.

 

The hardened Matoran stared out into the endless wastes, watching the two figures meet and approach. His right arm ached with the wear of a hundred escapades, all ending in disappointment or death. For some odd reason, he was still alive.

 

Grabbing a very small canteen, he strode out across the sands, cursing the grainy material under his breath as he walked, heading towards Krahno and Moega.

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 IC: Agonos

 

 The sand and dirt and rocks and whatever else the Gods above decided to settle onto the earth Agonos knew now as home was a real pain in his back.

 

 But that was the life of a scavver. Dig, sift, and maybe if he was blessed he would find something worth dragging back to the creaky settlement. He brushed away some dust from a rock he uncovered and frowned. "More rocks." he muttered. He tried digging his small spade under it, but it wouldn't budge. He pushed back in exhaustion, breathing heavy. He squinted under the heavy light, gazing out over the surface of the wasteland.

 

 His sight, however hazy from the intense light, settled on a lone Matoran trudging back from the distant wastes. "Ah, if it isn't Aurelius." Agnonos muttered, waving at the figure. "Looks like he's had better luck than me."

 

 OOC: That's you, The Old Master

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IC: Aurelius - Approaching Canus.

 

He spotted a figure waving to him, and adjusted his course to approach them. "Agnonos?" He stopped in front of the other Matoran, "How goes the scavenging?" 


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IC (Fulmen-Approaching Canus):

 

The Vo-Matoran trudged across the coarse sand in search of another life form. The flaring sun made it exhausting for him to move & made him envious of fire & plasma Matoran. He also had lost complete track of time, simply assuming it was midday since the sun felt like a toa of Fire was trying to cook him. Fulmen was relieved to see another Matoran & set off to approach them. "Hello!" He called out to other person. "Where are you headed?"

 

OOC: Fulmen interacting with Pat Lee/Hekua


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IC: Agonos

 

Agonos had to tilt his head upwards as Aurelius came closer. Sitting on the ground, besides being short as he was, didn't help. "Well, if you know anybody that'd be willing to barter for rocks, let me know." He gave a small grin before nodding at the scrap Aurelius had on his being. "I see you've done well. Anything good today?"

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IC: Aurelius - Approaching Canus.

 

"Nothing but scrap, unfortunately," he gestured to the twisted chunks of rusty, pitted metal dangling loosely from his bandolier, "But it's a big Wasteland. I'm sure one of us will get lucky someday." 


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Legends Don't Last Forever

 

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IC Dessimus

 

Closing the distance between the two, eyes blazing, the desert dweller stopped a good twenty yards off, intending to give the pair a strict impression.

 

"Speak now." His rather scratchy voice cut through whatever peace was in the air. "From where do you come?"

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IC: Torpaq - Canus

 

I'd awoken no more than an hour before, back to grey-brown sands and face to grey-brown sky. I had looked around me - of course I was confused at first. The clouds overhead, I had seen, were heavy and dark, and timelessly still. The sand my hand dug into was dry, but cool, and motionless. There had been no noise, just dead silence that seemed louder than the clash of metal, or shouting voices, or cracking stone, or any other sound I have heard since that time.

 

I had found the strength to stand, and I had felt heavy and inert, and lifelessly leaden. There had been no dizziness as I stood, just the bleak silence. But in time, the whispering wind had shaped the silence into something I could hold in my parched throat and declare. I had heard it as Torpaq, and I had known that it was my name. And then I had stared across the bleached sands, a landscape at the end of the world, and I had seen the others. I had seen ones like me, who I had known were matoran.

 

My body had been bruised and torn, but my spirit had been free. So I had trudged across this eternal, desolate wasteland, to a place where the others had gathered. Its was called as Canus, and its name had signaled refuge, and perhaps hope.

 

But there was nothing here.

 

I could not call Canus a village, even with all reference points of what a village should be stripped from my mind as with all memories. It mirrors its surroundings in its emptiness and desolation, and in its despairing weariness. It would be windswept if a wind strong enough to move a grain of sand had stirred since my arrival. But as it is, it's just stark and slight and barren.

 

And so its inhabitants follow the same pattern. The matoran of Canus, of whom I have learnt few names, are as cold, and bitter, and unflinching as the world before them. But they are afraid too, a lonely island of civilization in an immeasurable abyss. It is an abyss into which I am very sure they will fall unless they put their fears behind them. But it is not just fear that holds these people back - it is ignorance. And this is the problem I must solve first, if the matoran of the wasteland are to learn bravery. For it was ever-written that every being's greatest fear is that which he does not understand.

 

There are many mysteries in this place, and I intend to solve them to the last. 

 

 

OOC: Torpaq open for interaction in Canus :D

Edited by The Silent King

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Kathok

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OOC: Ask and ye shall receive. Interacting with Torpaq.

 

IC: Gapori

 

If you're wondering who's winning, it's Jazz Hands, though I can't tell you by how much. I lost count when his lead hit something in the thirties. Anyway, the game's been a blast but now I'm starting to get bored, so I call it quits with a final loss when his paper beats my rock.

 

"Aight Jazzy, I'm gonna go check the mail." I say, dusting myself off. "Still waiting to hear from my girlfriend."

 

"We don't get mail, moron."

 

"And I don't have a girlfriend. It was a joke, bud, get with the times."

 

I wave and exit the hut, wondering whether I actually did have a girlfriend before coming here. The fact that I can't remember anything doesn't bother me so much as the fact that I'm forced to starve in the world's biggest dump. Either that or I go test my luck against the wastes, and we all know that's just a one way ticket to a lonely death without answers. I'd usually consider that out of the question, but frankly, it's just a matter of time before we get desperate.

 

I look around and notice a grey figure with pink eye (ba-dum-tss!), so I walk over to him. Got nothing better to do.

 

"Yo Paq!" I shout. "What's good, little man?"

Edited by Burgerpants

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IC-Revenant

 

The Frail, skeletal figure stood on the grey sands. He felt weak, like his legs could collapse at any moment. but despite this lingering feeling of collapse, he soldiered on, looking for at least some salvation in this barren wasteland. Ahead of him, he saw a run-down looking camp. so maybe there was a place to rest in this desolate waste. Slowly but surely, he made his way into the camp, hoping to find food, shelter, and if possible, some answers...

 

OOC

Revenant open for Interaction.


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(I'll do this eventually, I swear...)


 


My BZPRPG Characters


Corpus Rahkshi Characters: Kol Arsenal Swarm Amalgamation


Skyrise Characters: Zavon


 

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OOC: Sorry, I had school to contend with

 

IC: Krahno

 

Well, that was fast. No more than half an hour in this dump and already I felt like I might have a fight on my hands. I bounced on the balls of my feet and mentally prepared myself to run if things got too hostile. The structures were closer now, and I was almost sure I could outrun our new broad-shouldered friend here if I needed to.

 

"That's right, we're, um, headed over there" I pointed over my shoulder, not risking taking my eyes off him, "care to come with us?"


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IC: Agonos

 

 Agonos rose to his feet and brushed off the dust from his legs. "Doubt it. You said it yourself. It's a 'Wasteland' and there ain't anything out there worthwhile." He slung his moldy rucksack over his shoulder and nodded to the near settlement. "Come, I'll walk into town with you. Maybe something interesting has happened while we've been out here, looking for nothing."

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IC Dessimus

"I live there." He grunted. "And we've been receiving boatloads of you people for the past month. More mouths to feed, more casualties in the Wastes... And more wasted water."

 

"Yet, every single traveler cursed to come here has but one thing in common. Lost memories, barely remembering anything but their names." His face immediately scowled as a small blast of sand swept across his face. "We're still waiting for someone to come with enough memory to know from where they came."

 

"So I restate my question. From where do you come?"

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OOC: Thankee

 

 

IC: Torpaq - Canus

 

"Ah, greetings Gapori." I utter distractedly, hiding my true weariness with this individual. The Ce-Matoran had been the first of this village's inhabitants to meet with me on my arrival. In honesty I can say that his mentality seems unhinged, and I have no doubt that these timeless, unchanging sands induce such madness. But I am sure too that I will not fall to hopelessness as so many here have, seemingly including Gapori.

 

When Gapori had met me no more than an hour before, I had been adust and athirst, and he had supplied water. For that I am, admittedly, thankful. Clutching a scrap of metal salvaged of this wasteful land, I had explored the place in which I now stand, and the dunes that surround it. But this task was completed before a half of an hour was up, no matter my curiosity or urge to investigate. As I was infuriated in such a manner, this matoran told me of others who came as I had. This interested me to more of a degree than any of the terrain of my environment.

 

So now, as I stare across this landscape as forlorn as it seems to have ever been, I see them. "Look," I utter to my companion, "Others!"

 

 

OOC: That'll be Moega, Krahno and Dessimus...

Edited by The Silent King

.


Kathok

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IC Dessimus

 

"No. You didn't."

 

Dessimus grumbled angrily under his breath. "Fine. You two had better be prepared, because by the end of the day you'll be in the wastes looking for water."

 

"Speaking of which, you two look parched." He took the small canteen off of his pouch.

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IC: Gapori

 

"Oh goodie," I deadpan, not encouraged in the slightest. "More people to share in our misery."

 

My hand reflexively reaches for my canteen. There's not a lot of water when I swish it around, so I'm not gonna be too happy if I have to share what little I have left. Who knows, maybe Paq'll save the day this time, he's a better guy than I am.

 

"Well, let's go check it out then." I say, getting a move on. It's not a long walk to where the figures are standing, and eventually I make out three of them, recognizing Dessimus right away though I'm not familiar with the other two. Obviously he's beaten us to the punch, which is amazing because from the look of things, he's already offering them some water.

 

Taking one for the team. Good guy, Dessi.

 

"Yo!" I wave upon approach. "Dessi, looking dapper as always. You got some new friends with you, I see."

 

OOC: Ayo, Dessimus, Krahno, Moega.

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OOC: 'Sup.

 

​IC: (Hekua)

 

The slightly startled Onu-Matoran turned to Fulmen.

​"Ah! Hello!"

She looked around.

​"I'm...not sure."

IC (Fulmen - Talking with Hekua):

 

"My name's Fulmen & I am sure glad to see you." Said the matoran of lightning. "We both know it's not easy surviving in a place like this, but I think somewhere out there in this ocean of sand, there's a place full of matoran just like us. Would you object to teaming up with me?" 


If you like Pingu & want to support a good project, click here. Also, I've rejoined the BZPRPG & I have a new profile for a new game. Click here to see it.

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IC: Agonos

 

 Agonos laughed. "Such a pessimist, Aurelius. You should be more like me. Half optimist, half pessimist, always tired." Agonos lifted a finger and pointed at the collection of shacks they were approaching. "See? Some activity buzzes in Canus. Probably nothing important, but it is interesting nevertheless."

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IC
 
Keoni. Maru didn't know the name. Not that he expected to: the arrivals were always strange to him. At best, their names were flickers of distant recollection, like bits of a dream he only vaguely remembered. But most of the time, they were strangers, and they never knew him either.
 
"Name's Maru," he replied, but as he spoke he noticed more strangers coming into view. This was a big arrival. Bigger than usual. He bit back a sigh between his teeth. Not good. More people meant more mouths, and by extension more scavenging. But they needed to be welcomed, for Nua's sake.
 
"There'a Matoran o'er there," he said to Keoni, gesturing towards Nix. "She'll get y'water. I'll be back."
 
He moved towards the other new arrivals, where it looked like Dessimus was already handing out water.

 

"H'llo," he said. "I'm Maru, n' this is Canus. Y'welcome to stay for now if y're peaceful."

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