Jump to content


  • Posts

  • Joined

  • Last visited

Everything posted by Wade.

  1. Name: Raymel the Worm Species: Skakdi of Earth Gender: Male Appearance: Raymel looks like any other Skakdi warrior trying his best to survive: worn, rugged, scarred, perpetually ticked off, and packing just enough muscle to make anyone think twice about picking a fight. He stands a little over average height and wears black armour interspersed with subtle hints of grey. His eyes glow red, though just barely in the dark, and his spines are short, blocky spikes bent low to his back. Powers: Elemental power of earth (in conjunction with another Skakdi), and thermal imaging. Equipment: Raymel carries a shortsword and dagger, both sheathed at the waist, in addition to a quiver full of arrows. Foreign Tech (approved by Ghosthands): Defective Ghostcloak: a cloaking device won during the Siege of Qlaluht. It renders its user fully transparent while also muffling any noise they might make. The device was damaged when Raymel killed its previous owner and now rarely functions as intended; activation causes him to rapidly flicker in and out of the audiovisual spectrum, almost as if he were stuttering in and out of reality itself. (Hand-sized, strapped to his belt) Shrieker: a strange bow of Vortixx make, and yet another faulty piece of tech damaged in battle. Arrows fired from its shaft are imbued with an incredible amount of power, capable of piercing through even the thickest armour with horrifying ease. Unfortunately, due to the permanent damage it suffered, only three arrows per hour can fired in this manner. They make a distinct shrieking sound mid-flight and leave a trail of shimmering-hot air in their wake. History: Raymel was never picky about who he followed. If they could guarantee his safety, they were king in his eyes. He flip-flopped between a great many warlords for the longest time, until he eventually fell in with Fekris and his pack of northerners holed up in the mountains. Soon after joining, they set about conquering their rivals, pillaging and growing their numbers while making a name for themselves. Raymel proved his value early on when he covered himself in mud and single-handedly crawled his way across no-man’s land to sneak into a fortress. Unseen and unheard, he scaled the keep’s walls under the cover of night, slit the throats of its sentries, and threw open its gates. Ferkis and his Northerners came pouring in after that to finish the rest of the job, slaughtering their enemies in an overwhelming show of savagery that’s still spoken of to this day. On that very same night they threw a feast in his name, toasting his cunning and bravery with copious amounts of alcohol. Somewhere in the process, the Northerners got a little too drunk, and decided it would be fitting (and hilarious) to grant him the title of Worm. Weakness: Terrible luck, more of a tactician than a fighter, doesn't particularly excel in any area of combat despite being a solid all-rounder.
  2. IC: Step, step, step. The sound of his own breathing. A rush of anticipation, building in his chest. Alfon followed close to the rear, listening to each of these things in turn. An oppressive kind of silence had descended upon the group since they entered the tunnel. That left him alone with his thoughts. Worst case scenarios stampeding through his head. Not the sort of thing that usually crossed his mind, but the task ahead wasn’t like anything he’d faced before. Even with the Hive Assault on his resume, friends and a Toa Maru to watch his back, he felt bits of his confidence slowly fragmenting, letting all the bad ideas seep in through the cracks. Step, step, step. The sound of his own breathing. A rush of anticipation, turning to ice in his chest. Alfon tried to grit his teeth—they’d been chattering nonstop from the cold—and was surprised to find his jaw already clenched hard enough to ache. Ril kept marching up ahead. Skrihen and Reordin formed a tight line. Only Plagia stood behind him. He worried about her the most. Relax, he thought, working a deep breath out of a sniffle. Something like this would have excited him years ago. It should have still excited him now. Ever since he’d started travelling the island, little more than a mercenary taking on small-time gigs, a part of him had always longed for greatness; a chance to truly make a name for himself. It was a pipe dream, sure, juvenile and a tad idealistic. Better reserved for preteens than for a grown man wizened on the ups and downs of life. But, at the very least, he'd make something worthwhile of himself. The ILF, for all its faults, had been his answer to that for the first time. This is where I’m meant to be. Words for someone who believed in destiny. The thought almost made him crack a smile. He didn't think of himself as such, and yet the words comforted him all the same. “Easy, guys,” he whispered. “Any louder and the whole Koro’s going to know we’re here.” He got a couple of smiles out of that. A look that said, I would slap you but #### splatters. The air seemed to weigh just a little less. That was more than enough for him.
  3. Can't wait to see what's in store. It's good to be back.
  4. IC: “Yo, Monkey Muffin.” Alfon sidled up close to Plagia, until they bumped shoulders and stood shivering together. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a pair of cute little eyebrows shooting for the moon. “Monkey Muffin,” Plagia parroted, her tone flat in its appraisal. “Is that where we’re at now?” “Uh huh.” The Toa of lightning tried his best to smile through a mess of chattering teeth. “Unless you’d rather fight Reo for Snoochie Boochie.” Plagia snorted. “No thanks. God forbid I come between you two lovebirds.” “Since when do you listen to the big man upstairs?” “Since he turned six midgets into the hottest people on the island.” Alfon clutched his chest. “You think Korero's hotter than me?” Plagia ignored the posturing, and turned to face the desolate snowfields across the waterscape. “What do you want, Casanova?” “I want to know if you’re more into green and gangly than blue and bougie.” Plagia cocked her head and shot the mercenary a mild look. He quickly brought up his hands as if to concede, before turning one into a finger that said, Gimme a second, and shoving the other into his pocket. A moment later, he was holding up a shiny brown bag of N&N’s. “Melts in your hands, not in your mouth.” Plagia’s eyes went wide. It was the look of someone who’d spent an entire week eating nothing but limes, salt beef, and way too much hardtack. “Where did you get those?” She reached for the bag, but Alfon immediately drew away and crammed the chocolates back into hiding. Her eyes swerved to his. “Come with me and find out?” A sly backpedal had him inching towards the wooden staircase leading to the Infernavika’s crew quarters. Plagia followed, shedding her rum-stained cloak as they passed her cot and disappeared into the pantry. The N&N’s bag opened with a satisfactory rip. Alfon swallowed a handful of the multicoloured candies, then handed over the bag for Plagia to hold. “Right here.” He bent down to a stack of boxes in the room’s far right corner, then shoved one aside ever so slightly. His fingers pried at the board which had been hidden under the box, until it came out and revealed a dark little alcove. “What are you in the mood for?” he asked, digging a hand inside a pile of crinkly plastic. “We’ve got, uh…” “Picolocos.” “Caramellows.” “Snackers.” ... "Actually, I'll take the Snackers." Alfon grabbed the bar, then waved it at the pantry's hidden goldmine. "By the way, none of that's my stuff," he said through a mouthful of chocolate. "Anyone asks, your favourite candies are dates, raisins, and scorpion lollipops."
  5. IC: Rungui “I’m going to tell him you said that.” They found the quartermaster a few minutes later. Most of the time he was running a checklist in a storeroom, but apparently he was hiding in his office today. The lunch lady, Ms. Hona, had warned them that he was in a bad mood when she told them this. Rungui chuckled, saying, “He’s always in a bad mood,” before grabbing a tuna sandwich on the way out. Rungui knocked on the door once, then a second time when no reply came. “Rodie? You in there?” he asked, knocking one last time. Rungui waited, glanced at Dalrin, and shrugged. “Maybe he’s dead.” With no regard for privacy, the doctor reached for the door. It was unlocked, and swung open on creaky hinges to reveal demoralizing stacks of paperwork and the stale air (of depression) that came with it. Amidst the thick of it was the old quartermaster slumped over his desk, pen in hand, looking like he finally kicked the bucket and took off to somewhere that didn’t resemble corporate ####. His chest rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic fashion, accompanied by muffled breathing and a speck of drool running down his chin. Rungui and Dalrin both got the picture in a heartbeat. “Well, he looks dead,” Rungui noted through a mouthful of his sandwich. He walked over to Dalrodie and gripped him by the shoulder, giving him a good shake. The sleeping Skakdi didn’t budge, at least not for a good ten seconds. Suddenly, a lazy groan rumbled in the old man’s throat, and he began to stir. “Hnnnn…nnnnnnh…uhnn…” “Rise and shine, Rodie." “…nnnhoozat?" “Doctor Rungui.” “Who…?” “Pink-Eye.” At this, the quartermaster stiffened. “Go away.” “Can’t do that. I need you to authorize this fine gentleman a holster and some ammo.” Dalrodie considered this for a moment. “Come back tomorrow.” “Rodie.” “Tomorrow, Pink-Eye." Rungui sighed. "I’ll leak your ###### history to all of Light Cavalry.” Dalrodie considered this for a moment too. Slowly, he sat upright, knowing deep down inside that the Vortixx meant every single word. “I swear to god, I’m going to a file a report about your bedside manner.” “You wouldn’t be the first,” Rungui said dismissively. “Anyway, you remember Dalrin, right? Dalrin Stratos? ‘Cause he certainly doesn’t remember you.” He watched the quartermaster for a reaction but got none. “He needs you to sign him a requisition order for a pistol holster and two boxes of .44 rounds.” Without so much as a second thought, Dalrodie fetched a requisition slip from his desk and got to work with his pen. After a final signature, he handed the paper to Dalrin. “There. Now #### off.” “Always a pleasure, Rodie. Give my regards to the ladies.” Rungui waved and left the office with Dalrin. "You didn't hear this from me but," Rungui started. "I treated him last week for ######## he got from a ######."
  6. IC: Rungui "...Close," Rungui admitted mildly. "His name's Dalrodie." OOC: What a rollercoaster of papers this semester has been.
  7. Silv, you have my blessing to put Dalyn in prison. To the rest of the heist crew, my humblest apologies and good luck yeet
  8. IC: Alfon Something about that apple triggered a wave of fear to come crashing into me. My eyes went wide, my skin broke out into a cold sweat, and I felt my stomach do a somersault. Suddenly, I was on the ground, quaking like a soldier with PTSD, a horridly blank stare glazed over my face. In my mind's eye, images and sensations flashed erratically. A fastball throw. The swooshing of death. A wall fissured by wholesome goodness. Each and every one chipping away at my fragile psyche. I wanted to cry. And as I'm sure you've already figured out, I am an unreliable storyteller whose words should be taken with a grain of salt. I did flip her off, though.
  9. IC: Alfon "I see a land covered in Mother Nature's dandruff."
  10. IC: Rungui "Dal. His name."
  11. IC: Kaigal "Do you know what the problem is?"
  12. IC: Rungui "Please tell me you at least know his name."
  13. IC: Alfon "Very vaguely," I replied, recalling our time in Ko but drawing a blank when it came to 'Shadow Puppies'. "Might have to refresh my memory, brain fluids are starting to freeze."
  14. Slide with your boy to the bar / Slide with your boy to the car

  15. IC: Alfon "Oh c'mon, it's not that bad. Look, we have cloaks!" As per cue, a ratty blanket smelling of rum suddenly enveloped Plagia from behind. The culprit, none other than yours truly, stood a few feet away shivering in his own bundle of what might as well have been thick burlap. The frigid wind cut right through it and straight into my bones, and a solid minute of racketing teeth breathed new life into my longtime hatred for Ko-Wahi. "Fighting in this weather's gonna suck," I groaned, staring at the glacial waters. "Any idea on how we get inside?"
  16. IC: Kaigal "Excuse me!" From a few meters away, I watched the pair receptively veer their attention to my approach. Even the crab looked. Unslinging my diskette rifle, I rested its stock end against the ground and gave the Matoran a curt smile. "Sorry to interrupt but Farzan, right?" I asked, pointing a finger his way. "Would you mind looking at my rifle when you have a sec? I think there might be something wrong with the firing mechanism."
  17. IC: Rungui "Oh my god." Rungui pinched the bridge of his nose. "What did you think he was?!"
  18. IC: Rungui "He's the guy who handles most of the Ussalry's equipment and supplies," Rungui pointed out, somewhat incredulously. "And you're telling me that, in an entire year, you've never paid him a visit?"
  19. IC: Rungui Rungui paused mid-stride. "Dal," he started. "How long have you been with the Ussalry?"
  20. IC: Alfon I lit up at Plag's orders. "Alright, let's get this baby moving!" I whooped, setting off to work alongside everyone else. OOC: Infernavika to Ko?
  21. IC: Rungui "Good idea," Rungui said, walking towards the exit. "The quartermaster should have one, I think."
  22. IC: Alfon "Alright Plag, you're captain now. Orders?" I was basically begging to leave.
  • Create New...