Athmos

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.”

furry biker gang drug wars in TV-Y7

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

 

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

 

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.

This is extremely neat, but I hold these personality tests with a grain of salt.

While they all sound very good(exluding a few of the vague ones), I bet if the characters themselves took the test, they would all get something different from above.

It'll spur some activity, I'm sure.

I have a Matoran in Le-Koro that needs to go.

Wanna take him? Take him. Wanna kill him? Kill him. Just let me know.

Otherwise I'm just gonna erase him.

IC: Nurrad, Thomast

A Vortixx ran quietly across the broken pavement of the streets. There was ample enough people to fix the roads outside the Grand Hotel, but nobody bothered. City was coming down around them, why create the illusion of hope? It was pointless. Nurrad just wanted to get off this city, and far away from here.

She leaped over small barricade. Those things were all over the place, in the desperate, last hours of the government’s attempts to keep order. Now, they were nothing but roadblocks and good for hiding behind.

As she came up to the hotel, she slowed her pace, lightly kicking a few loose rocks around. A small, but loud groan flew through the doors of the Grand Hotel as she entered. It seemed as if somebody just lost at a drinking game. Those were fun to watch, but Nurrad didn’t enjoy partaking in them. Something about the drink these days made her ill.

Avoiding the bar and the drinkers, Nurrad slipped into a booth on the far wall from both. She kept an eye on the other beings before turning her eyes front. A large piece of paper, being held up by tan hands, met her gaze.

“Can you believe this, Nurrad? Rubble prices have dropped for the 62nd week in a row!” the voice behind the paper announced. A small sound as if somebody was jabbing the paper also resounded. “Water is at an all time high, and it looks as if this is the time to sell any pieces of metal you own. I think the prices will be dropping soon.”

Nurrad propped her head up with one hand and sighed. “What are you going on about Thomast?”

The paper was folded down revealing a Glatorian, of middle-age, with gray hair, clean face, and hazel eyes. One could call him handsome, if one was interested in Glatorians pass their prime. “This, Nurrad,” he slapped the paper with the back of his hand, “is the problem. The market is far too unstable to support a city here.”

Nurrad rolled her eyes. Thomast was a visionary and a dreamer. He was certain that the city could come back from ruin, and he was currently the editor, writer, and publisher of The Grand Hotel Times, a collection of obituaries, market prices, and essays on how to improve life. “Thomast, come on...”

Thomast shook his head slowly. “I know you don’t think the same as I, Nurrad, but with enough support, we could begin rebuilding this city, block by block.”

“With enough support, we could make a blimp and float away.”

Thomast frowned, shrugged his shoulders and went back to reading his newspaper. Nurrad leaned against the back of the booth and crossed her arms, looking over at the other beings. Their actions were often more amusing than Thomast’s companionship.

OOC: A little long, but just to give y'all a good idea of them both. Ish.

Name: Nurrad

Sex: Female

Species: Vortixx

Powers: Enhanced Hearing(Via implant)

Skills: Single-handed sword training, hand-to-hand combat training, mechanical training.

Equipment: Katana, Water pouch-backpack, sunglasses.

Appearance: Nurrad stands about 7’ tall, and is extremely slim, leading one to think she is starving herself. Her body is a dark green, which slowly turns into a light gray at her neck and head. Her eyes are neon red, but are normally covered by her glasses. She wears some light armor, leather, on her arms and legs, but keeps her torso unprotected.

Personality: Like a sword-wielding, sunglass wearing, Vortixx acts.

History: When the city died, Nurrad was in her element. Always a fan of stories surrounding the end of the world, Nurrad built a variety of skills that have to do with survival. It was difficult at first, and she nearly died several times in the early days, but now, she’s adapted well to the harsh reality around her, and wants nothing less than to get off this ###### city alive.

Catch phase: “I’m getting off this ###### city alive.”

_____________________

Name: Thomast Jerffarson

Sex: Male

Species: Glatorian

Powers: None

Skills: Expert swordsman, expert marksman, expert rider, expert writer

Equipment: Quill, Ink, Parchment, Short Sword

Appearance: Tomast stands at 6’2” tall, with hazel eyes and a very firm step, like that of a soldier’s. His chest is slightly broad, indicting strength and health. He wears very formal clothing, including a waistcoat, trousers, socks, and what appear to be riding boots, for reasons unknown.

Personality: Thomast Jerffarson is one to control his temper at all times, and only unleashes it when the time calls for it. He is normally cool, collected, and silent, not partaking in large parties or loud discussions. He prefers reading over anything else, and is known for never giving up on a plan, idea, or a friend.

History: Tomast Jerffarson was a writer at a newspaper when the city failed. He was one of the people responsible for spreading the news, good and bad. The very fact he stayed inside the newspaper building was what kept him alive during the early hours of the riots. Who would steal from a newspaper, after all? These days, Thomast Jerffarson has taken it upon himself to document the final days of the city, for future civilizations to find.

Catch phase: “We the people of this city, have vowed to see it to its end, and to prevent all enemies, domestic or foreign, from bringing about an early end to its life.”

Thank you!

Characters. Personalities are a little slim, but I've never been one to write a large personality page, as I like to see where the character takes me versus where I take the character.

Name: Nurrad

Sex: Female

Species: Vortixx

Powers: Enhanced Hearing(Via implant)

Skills: Single-handed sword training, hand-to-hand combat training, mechanical training.

Equipment: Katana, Water pouch-backpack, sunglasses.

Appearance: Nurrad stands about 7’ tall, and is extremely slim, leading one to think she is starving herself. Her body is a dark green, which slowly turns into a light gray at her neck and head. Her eyes are neon red, but are normally covered by her glasses. She wears some light armor, leather, on her arms and legs, but keeps her torso unprotected.

Personality: Like a sword-wielding, sunglass wearing, Vortixx acts.

History: When the city died, Nurrad was in her element. Always a fan of stories surrounding the end of the world, Nurrad built a variety of skills that have to do with survival. It was difficult at first, and she nearly died several times in the early days, but now, she’s adapted well to the harsh reality around her, and wants nothing less than to get off this city alive.

Catch phase: “I’m getting off this city alive.”



_____________________


Name: Thomast Jerffarson

Sex: Male

Species: Glatorian

Powers: None

Skills: Expert swordsman, expert marksman, expert rider, expert writer

Equipment: Quill, Ink, Parchment, Short Sword

Appearance: Tomast stands at 6’2” tall, with hazel eyes and a very firm step, like that of a soldier’s. His chest is slightly broad, indicting strength and health. He wears very formal clothing, including a waistcoat, trousers, socks, and what appear to be riding boots, for reasons unknown.

Personality: Thomast Jerffarson is one to control his temper at all times, and only unleashes it when the time calls for it. He is normally cool, collected, and silent, not partaking in large parties or loud discussions. He prefers reading over anything else, and is known for never giving up on a plan, idea, or a friend.

History: Tomast Jerffarson was a writer at a newspaper when the city failed. He was one of the people responsible for spreading the news, good and bad. The very fact he stayed inside the newspaper building was what kept him alive during the early hours of the riots. Who would steal from a newspaper, after all? These days, Thomast Jerffarson has taken it upon himself to document the final days of the city, for future civilizations to find.

Catch phase: “We the people of this city, have vowed to see it to its end, and to prevent all enemies, domestic or foreign, from bringing about an early end to its life.”

IC: Merzt

Merzt headed back home.

His home was like most other Le-Matoran homes; a bee-hive shaped hut, with a single, open doorway with a window perhaps. Merzt had a window, but it was filled with a few potted flowers. Merzt adored flowers. Pretty little things, with various smells. They made him happy when he saw them.

He stepped inside the doorway and lit a torch hanging on the wall. It brought lit to the small hut, and all his possessions. There was his bed, run-of-the-mill style. He had a few pieces of metal art he made himself. Nothing good, but Merzt figured it was a good idea to at least try.

IC: Kaheri

Kaheri sat in the corner of the dark, little bar. He drank his cheap little liquor silently and slowly. He didn’t have an idea what he would do next, but there always were beings seeking other beings to do their work. Whether dirty or not, Kaheri would take it. He needed to be active again.

He sallowed a large gulp of the liquor. He was part of a team once; three Skakdi, two Toa, and about seven Vortixx. They were, in some twisted way, a happy family. Then the other Skakdi, all three of them, betrayed the team to some Makuta followers. Kaheri survived, barely. He crawled into a hallow tree, waited eight days, and managed to get help from a Matoran caravan.

Yes, Kaheri needed to be active again. He had three targets in mind.

IC: Shomdud

Shomdud walked around Po-Koro slowly, taking in the sights. For a desert village, it wasn’t that hot. Warm, yes, but not so hot to make him sweat uncomfortably. A nice temperature. He would spend sometime in Po-Koro before returning to Ga-Koro he decided. A vacation would do him some good. “Not that I’m not old!” he announced to nobody in particular.

Expect a profile from yours truly today, eventually.

IC: Shomdud

“If nautical nonsense be somethin' you wish-Hey, land ho!” the small Turaga announced to himself as he rowed towards the dock of Ostia. “Well, Captain, this was a wonderful trip, don’t you think?”

The Turaga looked to the side, “Why, yes, me matey, this was a wonderful trip. And if I may say so, you are the most handsome Turaga I have ever seen.”

He looked the other direction. “Awh, Captain, you are very kind! I insist you are more handsome than I could ever be!”

And back again. “No, no, matey, I insist! You are-Whoa!” he yelled in fright as the boat bumped into the docks. He glanced around quickly to make sure nobody saw his rookie naval mistake. Satisfied that his reputation was safe, Shomdud departed the boat, tied it to the dock, and hobbled into the coastal city. Ostia was a village in a village, part of Po-Koro but not really at the same time. Shomdud had heard some people call it Ostia-Koro, the “eighth” village.

He wondered why it would be the eighth village, when there was only six, but Shomdud just shrugged his shoulders and decided that was for other people to figure out. Right now, he wanted to get into Po-Koro. He quickly found a cart taking passengers to the Koro for cheap, but Shomdud played the “Sick, elderly” card on the poor Matoran, and was able to ride for free. With a smug smile on his face, he was Po-Koro bound, to the great gate.

IC: Shomdud

Shomdud wanted to sail. He wanted to sail far away. Like Po-Koro. That's a good distance from Ga-Koro, he figured.

So he what he needed to do: He bought a row boat, two oars, and some rope. In a very short time, he was already floating away from Naho Bay, slowly rowing northwards, away from the Koro.

"Oooooooooooohhhhhh, who lives in a pineapple under the sea?" He sang, until his voice grew distant and the Koro grew small.

OOC: Shomdud to Po-Koro, via boat and the willpower of Spongebob.

IC: Merzt

Merzt slapped an insect on his neck. The darn things were fond of any kind of moisture, including sweat. “Stupid bugs,” Merzt muttered, banging his hammer-for-a-hand down on the sheet metal. A few more hits and it was smooth, flat to the naked eye, but Merzt was sure that there were tiny imperfections only a Toa could see, if they had the right mask.

A small grunt, a quick walk, and the sheet was settled along side the rest of the products. “14....15...16.” Merzt counted silently to himself. He had hit his target for the day, and hallelujah, he was done until tomorrow. Merzt clocked out, said his farewells to his co-workers and decided to go see what was happening in the village of air. Perhaps something exciting, like a bar fight or more Toa trying to be heroes and accidental falling off the edge to their doom.

Merzt saw that happen once. It was some Toa of Stone, he remembered that, but wasn’t sure what his mask was. It didn’t help him anyways, after the Vortixx theft shot the Toa in the chest with some energy gun. The Toa’s armor absorbed it, but when he staggered back, his foot went off, and his body followed suit. That Vortixx is still wanted to this day. Maybe Merzt would catch him someday in his metal glider.

That made him grin.

I'm always looking for people.

 

But I'm currently talking with Akree/DoctorCouch

Give me a bit, I need to move my Turaga from Ga- to Po-Koro.

Anybody need an over-talkative Turaga that probably gives out more advice than what's needed? He's also good with boats and rope, likes piña coladas and getting caught in the rain.