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IC: Votadox (Psyker) - Combat Arena My muscles were poised: I sidestep neatly. Then I frown disapprovingly. "Disgusting." I say simply and concisely. This creature is clearly ill. But with what? I let out an inaudible sigh. Then I inspect my weapon of choice, once again stationary. Being stationary is much easier, in my experience. I give my gun a good look over. I scan its surface. After all, this is a combat test. Combat will likely be involved. But I wouldn't call enthusiastic salivation 'combat'. I pretend to ignore my opponent. "Exactly what kind of rahi were you before you joined the Hunters?"

IC: Votadox (Psyker) - Combat Arena I observe some passing time. Then I observe what it's holding. Yes. It appears my opponent has turned into sand. Well, I've seen stranger things; this one seems ineffective and silly into the same bargain. I'm not entirely sure what it's planning on doing - perhaps boring me to death? Sand has never held much of an interest to me, it's true. Well, I think it'll be amusing to find out. And more amusing still to find out that there is, in fact, no plan. "Ready." I reply, after this brief interlude. I stay where I'm standing. I tilt my head to the side as I contemplate the pile of sand with very mild interest.

IC: Votadox (Psyker) - Combat Arena "This'll be too easy!" Let's have an aside for a moment. A brief instance of sincerity in my internal monologue. What I'm here to tell you is that I'm not scared, not scared of a big clumsy brute like this or a fast dodger like myself. I've seen too much, done to much, to be scared. I have fear, obviously. But I'm never scared. I can tell when I have fear: I know how to use it. But I never let it use me. Aside over. I nod to the instructor in thanks. Then I make my way over to my opponent. And yes, the word 'saunter' could well be used again here. I'm also wearing my best grin, the one I only take out on special occasions. Then I decide that this isn't special enough to be a special occasion. So I wear my second-best grin instead. "Ambivalent to meet you." I tell my opponent truthfully.

OOC: Oh yeah, I forgot that, soz IC: Kathok - Above the Wastes Aha! Drukann's kick sent his foot into Kathok's hand spike, and in the last moment Kathok pulls himself up and out of, at least temporary, harm's way. However, the jolt of the impact knocks Kathok back down again, leaving him hanging from the hand he used to stabilize himself for a moment. As the ship rises back up to a horizontal path, Kathok wedges his feet back into the frame. So he's hanging from the ship, partway between the underside and the side. Kathok is granted a split-second of reflection. Despite all his vitriol, and despite how much he loathes the feeling, he is beginning to respect his opponent. He still hates him intensely, but respect - at least in Kathok's mind - is a separate sphere from that. His enemy may have attacked him out of the blue, but isn't that what Kathok did to his quarry earlier? No, no, no! Kathok tries to put these thoughts out of his mind, no matter how much they persist. And that may be because the thought reminds Kathok, for the first time in a while, of his original goal. On the other hand, the situation's looking pretty grim...but all Kathok needs is hope. No, not hope - the word doesn't suit him. Stubbornness is better. With that in mind, Kathok clings on for dear life, muscles as poised as they can be with the pain.

IC: Votadox (Psyker) - Combat Arena I finally have reason to thank the Great Spirit: that reason being the premature death of the conversation. After the announcement I decide to spend a few seconds mentally preparing myself. For the exertion of moving, that is. Once I've done that, I decide to perform the aforementioned action. Later still, some important people have said some important things. Because of these things it looks as if I'll be engaging in a conflict, perhaps a punch-up, and maybe even a melee with an individual known as Metronome. I do hope he doesn't tick too loudly. That could get quite irksome. Now I'd think This'll be too easy! but if I'm not saying it out loud, what's the point? So instead I turn to Nidhiki and say "Ah." Then barely a moment later I say "Which one is Metronome?" I say this as I can't see one. So I'm left to assume it's disguised.

OOC: Ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy IC: Snake - The Rebellion, Kaam I awake with shuddering gasp, followed by a retinue of shuddering breaths. In the instant of me waking up I’d sat up reflexively, shivering and panting. Now I sat regaining my breath, angry at myself for probably waking Shield or one of the others sleeping near me. I rub my eyes in frustration and anguish, stopping after a few seconds with my hands over them, finding a sort of solace in the blackness. Ugh. This has happened quite a few times recently, so I can’t say I’m surprised. I let out a sigh, hopefully a quiet one.

IC: Kathok - Above the Wastes Kathok, plastered to the underside of a rapidly plummeting ship, had used the seconds he had to spare to tear up as much of it as possible. There wasn't much logical thought to it, it was mostly just out of spite and desperation. He ripped and gouged with one claw, shredding metal sheets, hacking and clawing, arm flailing wildly with desperate last-ditch intensity and violent strength. But in the instants before impact, Kathok has a sudden moment of clarity. He sees Drukann's foot above him, resting neatly on the frame. With wild, time-slowed, mind-blank movement, Kathok's hand, surrounded by the hand spike, lunges upwards to grab Drukann's leg and pull himself up out of danger. Kathok, body almost shuddering from the duel, puts all the vicious effort into this he can muster: after all, it's life and death. This will either lift him up to finish off his opponent, or they'll both fall overboard and most probably die. Either way, the now-vandalised ship's impact with the ground will maul it. But Kathok doesn't think about any of this. He just wants it to end. He's in luck: however things turn out, it will. OOC: clarification: if they both fall overboard there's still a good chance they'll survive, considering how close to the ground the ship is at this point.

IC: Votadox (Psyker) - Next to Obstacle Courses I look on in what may be described as a mild flavour of amusement. Clearly none of these recruits realise that I've just walked down from the ledge, opting to assume that I've shared in their trials. Quite gullible, it seems. And not very intelligent: an impression I derive from their argument. A lot can be told by a person's argument, or so it's said. And these beings' arguments are telling me things in grunts. After a few moments I freely admit to boredom. Yet more inanity appears even without me asking for it. The conversation reminds me of one of those annoying clockworks they make on Nynrah: you wind it up once and it's making an irritating ding for the next half an hour. Eventually I say "I think you do need heat for a blister though," just to add some tension to the situation.

OOC: So we can use our powers in-vehicle? Is the restriction just between vehicles? cos if so Kathok shoulda been able to use his vision power earlier, not that it made much difference to the situation... IC: Kathok - Above the Wastes Kathok is caught off-guard, or at least partially off-guard. The blow knocks him backwards with enough force to rip out three of his four connection points in a terrifying instant, leaving him hanging on by one metal claw. The momentum of the attack sends him swinging out over empty space. His heart skips a beat. They're falling so steeply now that gravity almost doesn't take over, but the air rushing past aids in swinging Kathok back in and under the ship's chassis. His other claw scrabbles desperately for a hold for a moment, but then both his 'hands' are lodged fast. He's freezing with the shock of the event, but manages to swing his torso up. Another second passes and his feet are attached, at least for the moment. He curses despite his drumming heart. Now he can't reach his foe.

IC: Votadox (Psyker) - Next to Obstacle Courses I inspect my nails for a few seconds. They look fairly decent. Then I get bored of that, so I turn to cracking my knuckles. Releases a lot of tension, you know. Cracking knuckles. Although it's often more effective if they're other people's knuckles. After a few seconds I think I've had enough of that. I mean I can't spend all day cracking my knuckles. I move on to a few stretches. I stretch my arms above my head, let out a yawn. Ah, that's better. Releases tension, does stretching. Then I stretch my fingers, working them in and out. Yes, that's definitely an improvement. I can feel it doing me a world of good. Eventually I work up the motivation to look at the scene just below me. I mean, it's quite funny. It gets a smile: not quite chuckle-worthy, though. I won't be guffawing any time soon. Can't say it makes me howl with laughter. Still, it's nice of them to put on the performance, even if the comedy is a bit hit-and-miss. I stand, which is quite an easy thing to do when you work up to it. Almost immediately I decide to lower myself down from this ledge and get a better look at the crowd. My hands, freshly stretched, scamper easily over the uneven rock beneath them. I approach the group, and I let my eyes wander over them, taking a glance and possibly even a gander. Quite a gathering. A murau here, a skakdi there, a hideous mutant here, a matoran there. I saunter up to one of the sub-gatherings. "That was quite a challenge, eh?" I inhale. OOC: Talking to Whisper, Spirit, Metronome, Idgaddiy, Skondh.

Thanks

Ok, thanks, I'll make those changes in a bit

Name: Votadox Codename: Psyker Species: Takadox's species Appearance: Votadox is lithe and sinuous, partway between a toa and a vortixx in height, weight and posture. His armour, which looks to be a mixture of crustacean-like organic shells and mechanical implants, retains a clean, sharp aesthetic and is coloured dark and light grey under sand red, with silver and chrome details and red highlights. His face is expressed by means of a stylised Kanohi Crast. Powers: Votadox has the hypnosis of all of his species (although it requires eye contact and concentration), hence his codename. His mask also grants him the ability to telekinetically push beings and objects away from him with considerable force. Backstory: No matter what else has changed, Votadox has always been an adventurer. When fighting for the League he was often seen to bend his commands into something better suiting his whim. After wandering off to pursue his own goals once too often, the order was given for his punishment: luckily for him, the Barraki were toppled before the sentence could be executed. Along with other shards of the shattered empire, Votadox turned to a life of crime and delinquency. One day a smuggler, the next a soldier of fortune - Votadox was never quite satisfied. Although he often tried to hide it, he felt he had lost his purpose. He also became accustomed to loss, with many of his friends, not to mention widgets, being lost in his multitude of escapades. Rolling with the punches, Votadox nevertheless continued his rollercoaster of a lifestyle. But he couldn’t dodge destiny forever. When working as a corsair off the coast of one of the western isles, and after a particularly unsuccessful raid, Votadox was captured by the islanders and forced to work as a slave in mines under the land’s protodermic crust. Some time later the Dark Hunters attacked the island in search of its bounty, scooping up any potential recruits they could find in the process. Once freed, Votadox took it upon himself to kill a particularly cruel guard, taking his mask and launcher as reparation. Moments later he was leaving the island, ready to join his new employers in whatever exploits awaited... Tools: Votadox carries two items looted from the guard he killed. The first is a Mask Of Repulsion, while the second is a weapon he insists on calling a Bludgeon: it’s a substantial but light ballistic weapon whose spherical projectiles create a cloud of pummeling, hammering wind around their target. The area of effect is a two meter sphere, lasting ten seconds, whose force is equivilant to repeatedly being punched by metal hands. Although the cloud does not move, its effect is immediate upon impact, while the gun itself can fire once every four or five seconds for ten shots, before needing to recharge for about eight or nine seconds. As you can imagine, it was a favourite of Votadox’s guard. In addition, Votadox carries two simple protodermis knives - just in case. Skills: Votadox is of vortixx-like strength but above average speed and agility. He is an adept marksman, but is fairly standard when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. He is a good climber.

This looks interesting, I'll have a profile up soon-ish. On a side note, good to see you around again Lorax - you GMed the first ever RPG I played (that wasn't the BZPRPG).

OOC: Soz, I think I missed your post Onaku IC: Kathok - Above the Wastes What's this fool doing? Kathok clings on with both hands for stability, muscles still pointed to lunge if need be. The ground races ever closer. It crosses Kathok's mind that his opponent might be planning to crash and teleport away, in which case Kathok needs to get into the pilot's seat or smash the teleport centre, forcing the other Skakdi to avoid a collision. Or just kill him, of course. Most of Kathok's mind, however, is taken up by the feeling of utter adrenaline-joy as the wind whips past him. This is what life is meant for.

Oh. Well ok then.

IC: Kathok - Above the Wastes Kathok internally chuckles at the unworthy-of-skakdi-name attack as he darts down, the sudden movement pulling his weapon clear of Drukann's hand with a squelch. Speaking of the weapon, Kathok quickly lunges upwards at the exposed and overbalanced Drukann with it. By his calculations, the diamond-hard spikes should stab deep into Drukann's underside or neck. Meanwhile the movement brings Kathok back to his full height and pushes his opponent away.

I already chose tex; I think you missed my message.

(I find something deeply sinister about this)

Claiming a spot in Fire... this should be interesting

IC: Kathok - Above the Wastes This time Kathok is ready, and darts down to dodge the punch. Taking a second to rip his weapon from Drukann's damaged hand, he slashes it downwards once again. And he'll do so another time, and another, and another, until this nuisance is a broken bag. Kathok sees the ship's course, but is feeling confident: a nose dive or fancy twirl will only add to his enjoyment, and Kathok knows that he can take any altitude this maggot can, and more. What's he planning then? Kathok saves the thought for later - at the moment his interest is taken up by the weapon whizzing towards Drukann's face.

OOC: Permission to double-post given by Onaku. IC: Kathok - Above the Wastes The brutal swipe misses, mainly as a result of Kathok having to tear his weapon savagely out of Drukann's arm. Instead, the enemy skakdi's reinforced punch cracks into Kathok's jaw, snapping his head back. A moment later his head has whipped back to face his opponent, roaring with pain and anger. Blood is trickling from one side of his proud skakdi jawbone where Drukann's metal knuckledusters have dashed his flesh out of place - and he thinks he might feel deeper damage too. But Kathok is intent on his goal, so he focuses his efforts on bringing his free arm - across his body due to missing the block - back across and outwards at lightning speed, aiming to slash for Drukann's chest. His jaw's pain spreads upwards, but internally Kathok is sneering through the agony: it's only a matter of time before this vermin falters - after all, he has to pilot as well.

IC: Kathok - Above the Wastes Kathok swipes his razor-spiked arm across his body to block the punch. The motion is swift and fluid, and there's force in there to slam back against his opponent. Hanging on with this other arm and spiked feet, Kathok displays a look of manic glee about his jagged features. His eyes are wide and focused with a terrible, inevitable certainty.

IC: Kathok - Above the Wastes Time trickles by. Kathok leers as the bolts rush in an unstoppable torrent towards this scum. He lets the feeling fill him: the utter, self-assured satisfaction of getting this irritating fool out of his way, removing this slug of a pilot from the fight, eliminating this annoying variable from the equation. It's nothing personal, Kathok gloats. Of course maybe he'll let Drukann live, maybe not. He supposes he could let this miscreant scamper back to the sands, maybe even spread the word of his immortal enemy: Kathok Hann, pirate-king of the skies, the crimson hunter. Kathok lets his eyes go wide, taking in every detail of the scene brushed in the scathing desert light. He wants to remember this. Then the pilot dodges. It's like having a slap in the face: Kathok's conscious mind is sent reeling with the absolute shock. Only his deep-etched reflex muscle-memory drags him up in time to avoid the sand strewn jagged plateaus below. If Kathok had time for self reflection he would see himself shaking: but I'm sure he'd tell himself it was with rage. That isn't to say he isn't angry. He's furious. He's screaming, shouting, roaring, matching the wasp-whir of the engines, facing his opponent head on, teeth gritted hard enough to cut diamond. This fool has wasted time turning ahead of him, the primal subconscious Kathok hisses. This fool. Kathok's body shudders with the adrenaline. If he keeps on like this he'll die on his own. But that isn't important. Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter if this body dies, doesn't matter if everyone here dies. All that matters is the chase. All that matters is removing this infection. All that maters is killing him! Killing him! Killing him! "Die, die, die, die, die!" Sunmaker lunges towards the other ship. In the moments before the two ships rip past each other, the pilot of the Irnakk's Inferno shoots at point blank range. Fire bolts rip into the Sunmaker, gouging smoking craters into its surface and detonating to release lingering flames that, while whipped by the wind, remain. The pilot doesn't care though. He's occupied with more important matters. From Drukann's perspective, this is what happens. He rolls to the side, evades the hail of fire from the ship above him. After a brief maneuver he's facing Kathok, speeding towards Sunmaker, preparing to fire at point blank range. There's no way the other pilot will escape. He can either be engulfed by the all-round storm of fire or be rammed by a ship with much thicker armour. In the last millisecond before Sunmaker speeds past, a pilot sitting in the cockpit would be able see the ship as a blur of venom-green motion. As the pilot unleashes the volley of fire bombs, they might even allow themselves a small amount of satisfaction, who knows. And when they finally see their opponent plummeting to the ground behind them, strands of fire streaming from their ship, when they see that poor sod going into a nosedive which might save the ship but will leave the pilot shattered, they could conceivably feel smug. Yes, indeed, they might feel all those things, they might even feel joyous. They might smile or grimly chuckle. They might do a fist pump. They might feel happy for a job well done. That is until they see the figure hanging on next to them. Now this is what happened from Kathok's perspective. As the two ships sped towards each other, he - or the primal part of him - had known that they would fire. It was obvious, but this fight was already lost on obvious terms. So he had got out of his seat, hung on with a grip of steel and, when the time was perfectly right, when the window of opportunity sped towards him, when every instinct, every nerve, every atom of his body screamed at him to, he jumped. As Sunmaker slid away, he used the forwards momentum to swing through the air towards his opponent. And the very thrill of the motion brought him back to reality, he had thought. As the wind whipped through him and he became a very part of it, he used his Power, and became untouched by the force that was about to be unleashed. While Drukann's eyes would understandably follow the ship he still believed Kathok to be on, Kathok himself broke from his ecstatic dive, speeding into the Inferno. His hand spikes and climbing talons, tipped with protosteel, bit deep into the metal of that ship's hull. He had held fast for a moment, as he had practiced in the past. Then, before even Drukann could realise, he pulled himself upwards and swiped down at the pilot with one of those razor-sharp tools, hanging on tightly with the other. He intended to kill. And behind him Sunmaker dived towards the ground. He could spare a thought for it later.

Don't forget that -he- just got attacked for no reason by someone who appeared to have no justification for an assault. He's simply anticipating the satisfaction of eliminating some annoying thorn in his side, I dont think it's anything personal. As for Taurek, I'm pretty sure I played it as if he just wanted to get Taurek out of the fight, not kill him. And yeah, maybe he is a bit of a psychopath, I don't know - I haven't been playing him that long. I generally see the personality section as a starting point, not a code that has to be strictly adhered to. And whether or not his actions match his profile, I believe I've been pretty consistent. So I don't see much of a problem here, but dya want me to change it?