Athmos

IC: Thomast Thomast frowned. It could detect sound. "What else can you do?" he muttered, typing away. I > A stranger. I do not know of this stone tree you speak of. Nobody has been in the junkyard for years.

This is, without a doubt, one of the best descriptions of Chima I have ever read. Indeed. He does have a point. Although whether CHI qualifies as a drug is somewhat iffy. I prefer "Phlebotinium", especially since it gives powers to characters. It's more like a power rivalry. A drug is any chemical you take that affects the way your body works. Alcohol, caffeine, aspirin and nicotine are all drugs. It would be considered a drug, techically. Totally besides the point though(although I'm glad my DDR training is finally useful.).

IC: Thomast Thomast looked over his shoulder at the stranger that called over. "A computer of sorts. An artificial intelligence, I believe." He looked back at the feed on the computer and began typing. > I What stone tree?

Indeed. Alas, Greg is quite busy with other stuff. If Greg just said, "Gali is here, doing this, and this is what happens because of it." We can make the stories ourselves, just give us the cliff notes! If you're really dying to know...go ask Greg the question! I did not know that existed.

You: Don't Change the words in the National Anthem. Don't Change the tune of the National Anthem. Don't Style it to a specfic singing style. Do Step down if you can't sing it. Never disrespect it. People that screw up the National Anthem really lose a lot of respect from me. People that do it on purpose will never get my support again. *cough* Unlady Gaga *cough*

IC: Thomast Thomast rubbed his chin. "Jack? Interesting name." He needed more information from the machine. From Jack. > I What are your origins, Jack? Tell your story, if you will.

IC: Thomast Thomast was puzzled. How could a machine know how it was feeling? Prehaps it had a virus of sorts. Thomast knew that computers were capable of holding great amounts of information and programs. This machine could be the center of the revival of the city! First, it needed a name. "Actually, I should ask it its name first. If it has one." he murmered. > I What is your name? He hit the enter button, and waited.

Or maybe the Nuva's Toa Stones could turn regular Matoran into other Toa Nuva, so Matoran/Toa/Turaga Nuva could be like "The Matoran Race 2.0". And also would the Nuva become regular Turaga or Turaga Nuva? I don't think just because it came from a Toa Nuva, it would make the Matoran turn into a Toa Nuva. It's Toa Power, pure and simple. Toa Nuva just have a ton more of it. The Toa Nuva, I believe, would become Turaga Nuva. Slightly more powerful than their Turaga counter-parts.

If I remember correctly, Lhikan basically gave up almost ALL of his Toa Power to make six stones, the Toa Metru only gave up a small portion to make one each. And the Toa Nuva are the most powerful Toa team out there(I believe), so who's to say they can't make 12 each before they turn into Turaga? Tahu, with all his powers now, could make several dozen, in theory. Assuming there isn't some canon explanation for all this I haven't heard of.

IC: Thomast Interesting, the Glatorian thought. He placed his hands on the keyboard and quickly typed a response in the blinking field. > I Well. How are you? He hit the enter button, and awaited a response from the machine.

Author's Note: Found this little story in my story folders. I fixed it up a little, and I kinda liked it, so I thought I would share it. I am not aware when I wrote this, but it must have been recent. It's a short read, either way, enjoy! Beads of sweat dripped down his face. The voices of arguing staff members were steadily growing, irritating his headache. He wiped his face with a napkin before glancing up at the long table. “Where are we at?” he spoke, gathering the attention of everybody at the table. “Mr. President, we have narrowed it down to three options. We need you to make a decision.” a tall, highly-decorated general announced, holding several documents in his right arm. A woman in a tight business suit glared at the man before addressing the President. “Sir, with all due respect, the military is not the best people to make this decision. This is a matter of homeland security, and needs to be addressed with my people.” The general narrowed his eyes at the woman, clenching his fists. “Ma'am, I recognize your authority on the matter, but this issue won't just affect our nation, but the world, and as such it is up the military and her assets to make sure the decision the President makes doesn't weaken us against possible enemies.” The President slammed his hand down on the desk. “Shut up!” he shouted, silencing the room. “God bless it, explain the options, somebody, now!” A nervous aide approached the table and laid out three folders in front of the President. “Op-options one, two, and three,” he stammered, “covering all the data and details.” The President began to flip through the folders slowly, reading over the details. The words and numbers floated up to him slowly, “extra,” “87%,” “2 liters,” and “9.99” meant little to him. When he was voted as the leader of the free world, he didn't expect the intensity of some of the problems to be this high. He'd be dead from a heart attack at 53, he joked, but today, he felt it. “Sir?” The President looked up at the voice, and met the eyes of the general. “General?” “Sir, whatever decision you make, you need to consider what will happen to everybody alive, on this planet, today.” “I know that.” He returned his gaze to the folders, a drop of sweat falling onto the papers. He lifted his hand and pinched his temples, groaning softly as he did so. He closed the folders, and looked up at the awaiting crowd. “We will take decision two.” A group of people began voicing dissent but he cut them off with a bang of his fist against the desk. “I don't want to hear any backtalk! Bring me the phone!” The same aide from earlier walked up to the President and handed him a large, mobile phone. “Do you know the number, Mr. President?” “By heart, son.” He began punching a number into the phone, and called, holding it up to his ear. He cleared his throat while he waited for the phone to pick up on the other end. RING. RING. “Hello, Papa John's, how may I help you today?” “Yes, I would like a number two.”

This is, without a doubt, one of the best descriptions of Chima I have ever read.

Indeed. Alas, Greg is quite busy with other stuff. If Greg just said, "Gali is here, doing this, and this is what happens because of it." We can make the stories ourselves, just give us the cliff notes!

IC: Thomast, Nurrad Thomast was more than a little embarrassed that Nurrad knew what it was, and he, one of the city’s intellectuals, didn’t. Moving on from that, he gave his thanks to Ajuni, and marched over to the small machine. He was slightly hesitant in touching it, and was more than happy to examine it from the outside for a little. “You should turn the crank.” Nurrad called out from her booth. “Yes, I was planning on that!” Thomast snapped, as he reached for the crank and began to cycle it. A most interesting piano piece began playing from the depths of the machine. It was the first time Thomast had heard music since the city fell. It was beautifully frightening, a song of despair and hope, Thomast thought.

IC: Thomast, Nurrad Thomast had laid down his newspaper when he heard the bartender/owner, Ajuni, point out an interesting device in the one corner. Thomast wasn’t one to butt into a conversation, but his curiosity overtook him. “Excuse me, sir,” he called to Ajuni, “but what exactly is that?” By this time, Thomast had straightened his clothing, as if he was about to greet the King of the Junkyard. Nurrad glanced over her shoulder at the object. “Looks like a computer, Thomast.”

IC: Kaheri, Shomdud “Kaheri.” “Duddy.” The Skakdi and the Turaga stared at each other over a small table, a drink in each of their hands. Kaheri, the Skakdi, took a drink from his cup before expressing his thoughts. “What brings you to Po-Koro, Duddy? I thought you had business in Ga-Koro.” The Turaga shrugged slightly, accidentally spilling a portion of his drink. “I got bored. Wanted to go sailing again, like in my youth.” “I was under the impression you were always this old.” Kaheri replied, handing Shomdud a napkin. “Always a kidder, Kaheri,” he smiled, mopping up the liquor. “I just didn’t expect to see you in Po-Koro. Did you finish your job in the village of ice?” Kaheri leaned back in his chair and thought back to the past few weeks. The Skakdi had a “clean up” job in Ko-Koro. Several undesirables needed to be remove, and Kaheri got rid of almost all of them. Except the last one. He blew up his factory, with Kaheri in it. Kaheri escaped before the Guard arrived, but so did his target. “Almost.” Shomdud raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like you, Kaheri.” Kaheri leaned across the table. “I’ve tracked him to Po-Koro. I’ll find him before long.” Shomdud took a drink and thought on what Kaheri said to him. “Do you need help?” Kaheri laughed. “From a Turaga? No thanks.” Shomdud smiled softly. “Not me, bonehead, but my friend. He’s in the Guard here. We fought together when I was a Toa.” Kaheri frowned. “I rather not be in contact with the Guard.” “He owns me a favor. I’ll just see if they know where your target is at, and I’ll pass the information onto you.” Kaheri stood up, placed a few widgets on the table, and put his cloak up. “What’s his name?” “Maxiam Kilanewb.”

Loose story-lines create unneeded stress for us. We need a canon ending to these things, dang it!

The idea is extremely interesting and thought provoking. I enjoyed your writing, even though the written story itself was vastly confusing at points. However, for your first story, this is a fantastic piece of work. I wish to see more from you!

That's an excellent question, Lorax, and I have a pretty good answer. All of the ELs could be described as arrogant, cocky, or prideful. All of them desire power, to put it bluntly. The idea is that the ELs reach the point that they believe their lands are too small. So, bit by bit, the ELs begin annexing(or otherwise conquering) smaller lands around them, and eventually snowballs into a desire for the other ELs lands, but all are waiting for one spark to set it all off.

Had this idea for a RPG: Basically, Energized Protodermis is never found on SM, preventing the shattering. But the Element Lords have fallen into a cold war(pun intended.). This begins to heat up, and the players can play as either: diplomatic leaders, trying to prevent war; spies, destroying the other Element Lords war-plans; or soldiers, fighting where they need to win. I was toying with the idea of having all of the element lords as a faction, but I think I'll close it down to only a few playable sides(not including those lone wolves.). Just a bunch of ideas now, but I'm hoping to get a story together soon.