silo

I would definitely be up for renewing the outsiders tbh. It's been a while since I've done anything BZPRPG-related, so I'd be happy to give you a hand.

IC: Kathok - Near Tesera Kathok's entrance was studiously ignored, but he doesn't care too much: unbeknownst to Silvana and Taurek, he has been watching the exchange with some amusement. He finds it amusing particularly, how up-himself the steltian is, and how over-serious the vortixx is. Now he raises the arm onto which his zamor launcher is attached. It is leveled at Silvana. He clears his throat with great gusto. He voice is loud, clear, concise: "Hello. I don't think I formally introduced myself. Kathok Hann, at my service." He pauses, watching his two quarries intently. "Hand over everything valuable you have or you die quickly but painfully." It's matter-of-fact, but you can tell he's enjoying this.

IC: Kathok - Near Tesera Kathok curses in the language of Old Zakaz: he had hoped the aerial encounter would have been more prolonged than this. As it was, they'd been in the sky measly minutes - his blood had only just started pumping properly, his mind only just begun to wake up. And now, they land. Get out some weapons maybe, shout some inane insults. Maybe one or two people end up dying, who knows. And then someone crawls back into their ship, and everyone's day resumes. How dull, how tedious. Kathok curses again. He really had been hoping for something more exciting than this. Seconds before he lands, he sees the figures climbing out. He spies the ridge between them: not too pronounced, but the lay of the sand, coupled with his sight of the surrounding outcrops, tells him that the dust is deep here. One second before he lands, he is standing in the cockpit, torso protruding through the gap between its two metal bars, hands braced against them...and not on the controls. Half a second before he lands, his body tenses, muscle binding together with crackling energy. As he lands, Sunmaker tears through the dune, tidal waves of sand splintering and shuddering into a desert tsunami as the jetrax cannons unstoppable forwards. The two already on the ground may be caught in the withering storm of metal and grating dust, or may be out of harms way if they moved fast enough or are close enough to their landed vehicles - Kathok isn't paying much attention to them. When the sand inferno thins and clears, Kathok Hann stands, teeth bared, hands almost crushing the metal structure he holds. But he isn't grimacing, he's smiling: he always did like to make a dramatic entrance.

OOC: I'm sorry this has taken so long ;__; IC: Torch - Halls My eyes widen. "That sounds...really...wonderful!" I exclaim. Despite my life not being all that interesting most of the time, I never found the time to do something like that. But now it seems so obvious, so clear. For a second I see The Vision of the world on fire, flames raining down from the sky - it's the only way I can die happy, I'm starting to realise. To make that vision a reality is the only way I can die satisfied. But first...I need to live to take us there. "What do you need?"

IC: Kathok - Near Tesera Kathok maintains a steady distance - its obvious that the pilot ahead of him is trying to evade him. The flyer ahead seems to be swooping downwards, preparing to land. Kathok accelerates, priming his weapons for firing if need be, although he'd rather not have to use them. His eyes dilate and then flicker, his vision power coming into play as he tracks his two targets' movements. There once was a jet-black jetrax Who was prone to risky attacks By adventurous wand'rers And foolhardy plun'drers That silent old jet-black jetrax Hmmm, he makes a mental note to practice ending limericks better.

IC: Kathok - Near Tesera Kathok pulls on the acceleration lever, matching the Rockoh's speed but maintaining distance. With the flick of a switch, he opens radio-av communications lines on an open channel. His voice is beaten into a thin line by the buffeting wind, but an edge of mad exhilaration can still be heard: "What's all this then?" He assumes there's something he can gain from helping this stranger take their target, or from taking it himself. "Is there something interesting on that ship?!" The voice is screamed over the howling gale, its accent mismatched - on average, from nowhere in particular.

IC: Kathok - Near Tesera Kathok Hann, self-styled king of the skies, freeblade, sellsword and bombastic soldier of fortune, feels his jagged heartlight skip a beat as the stealth fighter slices the airspace above him into a pair of neat slabs. A wickedly sharp smile splits his face, barbed fingers idly rattling a metallic tattoo in reply. Insolently sluggish, his mind slides words together: shadow in the wind fog of silence thick in mind bites the air in two No, no. He shakes his head. Haikus were never his strong suit. His hands lazily trace the controls, but it takes the second aircraft, in obvious pursuit, to put them to use. Electric excitement detonates within him, talons dancing over the panel with lightning speed and stiletto precision. Levers are pulled, buttons pressed, and engines shudder into a symphony of abrasive resonance. Sunmaker stabs the sky, the day's newborn solar shine glinting off of Kathok's silver-flecked fangs. shadow shadows fear tear them from the burning sky boom boom boom boom boom OOC: Following Taurek and Silvana ( )

ayy thanks

'ere we go: Name: Kathok Hann Gender: Male Species: Skakdi Element: Plasma Equipment: Four fighting knives - roughly 7 inches long each, made of hard metal. Two hand spikes - the shape and size of Nuju’s crystal spikes (held as they are portrayed in LoMN), except with barbs radiating outwards as well as downwards. Each barb is made of solid protosteel salvaged from the matoran universe, and is inseparable from the light metal of each weapon’s body. As well as use at deadly close quarters, each can also be used as a climbing tool, as their barbs can penetrate sheet metal with force. Artificial climbing talons, attachable to Kathok’s clawless feet (unusual for a skakdi). Also tipped with protosteel. Rhotuka launcher - can produce rhotuka of searing heat (hot enough to burn flesh). Supplies, including tools for repairing his jetrax in an emergency. Powers: Sharp Vision - Kathok can see much further and clearer than other beings, to the extent that he is able to find people and structures on the ground far below with relative ease. Obstinance - for between half a second and three seconds, Kathok can fortify his body to withstand extreme force or blunt physical trauma, including making his bones sturdy and his muscles iron-hard. Unfortunately this power takes roughly twenty minutes to recharge, and so is only used as a last resort or in special situations. Elemental Plasma when used in conjunction with another friendly skakdi. Personal Aircraft: Sunmaker Allegiance: Adventurer/freelance/occasional mercenary for Tesera and New Atero Physical characteristics: Surprisingly lithe and wiry for a skakdi, Kathok often claims he has some toa blood in him. He is still fairly tall, however, and as agile as he is athletic. His movements are springy and full of vitality, but also honed and - when he needs to be - precise and sudden. Wearing the glittering grin of his race, his armour, while partially mismatched and scavenged, holds the eye-catching bright reds and purples of poisonous creatures, shot with scathing oranges and blisteringly bright blues. His natural armour’s shape is formed and sharp-edged, while his eyes and heartlight are fierce turquoise. The spines running from his head to his residual tail are almost feather-shaped - half like leaves, and half like knives. Weakness: Kathok may be dexterous and strong, but his armour is fairly light. Mental characteristics: Kathok is a thrill-seeker, an adrenaline junky. He lives to live fast, and to live dangerously. Why does one born into war crave risk so much? Maybe he has become so used to peril that he must continue, or maybe it’s simply that his morals have been warped by the world to reflect its equally warped existence...in any case, only he can answer that question, and he may not always answer truthfully. But he can take life seriously, and often does: the perfectly timed attack, the precision of a carefully placed dive - these things hold as much satisfaction as mindless mayhem. Weakness: Occasional claustrophobia, tendency to get into unnecessarily dangerous situations. Bio: Kathok doesn’t talk about his past much - he doesn’t care much for sob stories, or gaining points for having been a victim of his environment. In fact he usually laughs at those who act in that way. However, it can be gleaned at length that he was created in the matoran universe, not long before its destruction. Zakaz was a place rife with destruction in those days, as it was for a significant portion of its existence. Kathok likely didn’t hold the same reverence for adventure at that time, and most likely joined one or more of the multi-faceted Zakazian War’s many sides. The destruction of the universe, and the disarray it brought, were the tools that shaped an impressionable young warrior into the part-time sellsword, privateer, smuggler, daredevil and wanderer known today. Name: Sunmaker Model: Jetrax Weaponry: Two Sunspear lance lasers - focused, long-range cutting beams that can maintain a continuous beam for a few seconds at a time before needing to recharge for a minute or so. They have no ability to pivot whatsoever, meaning that Sunmaker must be directly behind its target to use them. Force cannon - shaped like a Skyblaster and mounted on a 360° turret on the underside of Sunmaker, this weapon fires football-sized bolts of heat and force at its target. Strong enough to dent most metals, the cannon can fire at a rate of two bolts a second for roughly five minutes before having to recharge for one. It is mid-short range. Customisation: A pair of auxiliary thrusters on ball joints to aid with maneuvering. Appearance: Very similar to a standard jetrax, except that its colour scheme consists of lime green and that its armour plating appears more compact, with less gaps and more cohesion in terms of the armour’s overall shape.

aw, this is a shame ;_; twas fun

IC: Torch - Halls "Uh, sure..." I reply, intrigued, fascinated, engaged, curious, inquisitive, compelled, enthralled, captivated and interested.

IC: Torch - Halls "Maybe we should try to teach some other people though..." I say thoughtfully.

IC: Torch - Halls "I'm not sure..." I say uncertainly. I think for a second. "I always thought that maybe I could teach other people about it, but I never really had any friends to teach...and when I tried to teach strangers, it never seemed to end well." Honestly, I never cared very much: not about the friends thing or the teaching thing. But now I feel a bit guilty that I didn't try harder - after all, the Fire has done plenty for me, and it's always a Good Thing to be nice to people who are nice to you.

OOC: Sorry @CoconutFanatic, I must have missed it D : IC: Torch - Halls "No, no, I'm not a pretender..." I mumble, words stumbling over each other to reassure this person of my genuine devotion. But I do feel a bit annoyed that this newcomer is telling me how to be devoted. Never mind, I shouldn't get angry. I should have p o s i t i v e t h o u g h t s. "I'm a disciple, through and through." I pause for a second. "I'm so dedicated, in fact, that the fire communicates directly with me." There's a hint of pride in that last bit. IC: Fíor - Nynrah I'm hauled back into reality by Nymph's words, eyes flickering across to him. I can see that the shadows of the night still linger on him, metaphysical black tattoos etched across his spirit. The eye of my mind fixates on my Change for a moment, and thoughts form from the amorphous cloud of memory. I think of my fear, directly after that event, that every glance I took was filled too much with unconscious analysis, that every notion was false and I'd never really left my old self behind. But the days of travel, seeming like years and running together like water, have given me time to think, to paint myself on my inner mind's walls. I've realised that I've evolved into something maybe greater than I ever could have been. And I've realised that certainty in all matters is the only way forwards now. With this in the forefront of my thoughts, I resurface once again. Smiling inadvertently, I say "Yes, of course." before standing and offering my hand to Nymph, still lying where he woke up.

IC: Fíor - Nynrah I nod, reassuring me and my compatriot both. Then I get up, the world orbiting my eyes for a second before easing to a halt, the zoetrope's images paused in their flickering display. I yawn, sleep pushed from my lungs, and I stretch, sleep pulled from my frame. My fingers wriggle in their sockets as life permeates my body once more, expelling the last shadows of the cold night, and I smile. Then I look at Nymph again, almost as if he might have disappeared in the few seconds my sight was off him. But he's still there; like me, he's pushing out the dark hours and letting the light flood in. I sit down on a log, chopped ages ago when this forest was still used for timbre. Its seat was once sheared clean, I can see, but now its surface is rotted and melted by time, encrusted with ironsalt and fikou webbing. I rub my temples, still transfixed by the molten gold light dripping through the canopy. My mind turns slowly towards what we've got to do today. At the moment I'm uncertain, but behind the uncertainty is a certainty that it'll all work out, that we'll do the right thing, that we'll choose the right path. My voice is relaxed when I ask the forest: "Where should we go from from here?"

IC: Torch - Halls "A disciple...yes..." I'd never really thought of it like that before. "I suppose I am too." I say reflectively.

IC: Torch - Halls I look sidelong at this rahk. I'm intrigued, for maybe the first major time in my life. It's also maybe the first time I've been Complemented for something, if that's what you could call it. Kind of hesitantly, I ask the question: "So...I take it you're a fan of...fire, too?"

IC: Skylor Sparrowhawk - Hero Factory "Uh, OK..." I reply through the comms. I honestly hadn't been planning to fly off: I've already had multiple opportun'ties and I admit I'm not one for self reflection: in other words, if I decided not to at the beginnin', that's prob'ly still gonna be my decision now. The mention of an adviser does stand out to me though...The way they're treatin' me like someone who needs to be Looked After an' Worried About both irritates and mystifies me: in the past I've been shouted at, told I'm a disappointment yadda yadda (it all becomes the same meaningless jargon after a while...), but acting like this case is somethin' different or special worries me a little, not gonna lie. I maybe misjudged a situation (not that I'll admit that to them), but is this all really necessary? This hint of an anxiety lingers at the back of me mind. Earlier I was so annoyed that I just thought 'Sod it, I don't care - even if they fire me', you know how it is. Now, though, I'm still annoyed but more in the sense that I'm in unfamiliar territory. Still, you won't catch me asking these glorified caretakers for specifics...

IC: Torch - Halls I stagger backwards, but not too much: my eyes widen as I stop in time to let the flames' heat wash over my face. Did I ever mention that there are few things better in life that feeling fire around you after a wet, gritty, slushy, muddy day? Feeling it seep through you bones and invigorate you? Warm you and nurture you? Well consider it Mentioned. This feeling reminds me of that, although it's like a droplet of molten rain...incomparable to the ocean we could all let in if we dedicated ourselves to breaking down the sea wall. I stare back as Real Life drips through the cracks in my mind, threatening to drown me and extinguish the fire forever. "Yes..." I reply vaguely, "...I suppose that's intentional." I look the newcomer up and down. They look fiery too.

IC: Torch - Halls I whirl around at the sound of a voice addressing me. Eyebrows raised in a mixture of confusion and intrigue, I say "Uh...I painted it myself." I give an earnest smile.

IC: Fíor - Nynrah How long have I been alive? The question lingers in my mind, hazy and nebulous like the seconds trickling by, turning into days and months and years. A strange rhythm to my thoughts thuds blearily in and out of sleep, the muffled ticking of a clock. My eyes scan this setting, edges ill-defined as memories blur and run like sand through my fingers. Muted voices, deadened, dampened, speech around me slurring and seeping by as slowly as the rise and fall of continents. They form words, I think, but my reeling mind can’t fathom them through the thick, numb fog. Green light, flickering hypnotically. Forms slithering and crawling, shuffling like cripples. The mind crafts its first thought with imprecision, fighting through the dense unconsciousness: Like me. A moment lingers still. But even now the silent stream like mercury ebbs and flows around me, leaden and heavy. My head tilts back and I see the steel being. And then I’m pulled away. Now my mind swirls and shudders into place, cacophonous, clanging, voice beside me flushed with cutting discord. Panes of glass shatter across my senses, their forceful shards splintering and slicing deep. I whirl and spin with jerky, mechanical movements, fracturing violence disgorged from my lethal weapons. Yet the recollection is convulsive, spasmodic, memories jolted and shaken until the flesh is torn from the bone. The eye too is shaken until lines become indistinct, even if once they were seen with clarity. It is into this oblivion that my consciousness descends, until it is worn down to nothing but a core of desperate nihility too catatonic to shiver or shake or move from the pre-ordained path at all. And so a deadly stillness encapsulates me, surgically clean and defined, but blank. A softer light dawns, brushing away the systematic destruction with organic realism. But my laws impose on the world, my mind, cut like an ugly diamond, following its creator’s agenda with robotic monochromatism. In my memory the building looms, casting a thick, palpable shadow, while the skin of the sky into which it soars is pierced and incised by jagged spires. Such an opportunity for a life missed and washed away: Corpus Rahkshi, a place of learning, is merely a target for this living weapon. I stalk through the halls, form shifting and shimmering like the half-forgotten truths and half-remembered half-truths whose words echo uncertainly even now, doubting their own existences. But everything is calculated even so, mechanical certainty guiding my logic and action and word. Methodical and efficient, the crowd parts for me at the Causeway, and I allow a brief brush of satisfaction. Perhaps it is this that saves me. Images and sounds scintillate past me, time reeling forwards. Meaningless. Anger builds inside me, unrest. The air feels thick again, and hot and gritty. But I am bold, and I push through it, grabbing at the constricting, geometric schism in my head and tearing at it. Nymph stands there, and I understand: I understand the mind, I understand myself. My eyes widen as I realise the purpose of my existence, the heavy purpose that sluggishly uncoils itself to strike over the course of a lifetime. And I feel the seconds ticking past, each hulking moment a wrong I must right. I feel the very stream of time, inevitable and ponderous. I take the flame of hope and burn the old to ashes, releasing myself from my maker. Light flickers into my bleary vision once more, but it’s golden this time. The fog of sleep clears quickly now, swirling and dissipating easily. I feel refreshed and...alive. I listen for a few moments to the sounds around me: the other alive things and the forces that govern them...the wind in the thick forest’s myriad of trees, the wildlife clicking and buzzing and clanging. And I look across at Nymph lying next to me, still apparently sleeping. This day will make a difference, it has to. After all, the first chapter in the rest of my life...our lives... has only just begun.

IC: Torch - Hallways I stumble, vision clearing. These last few weeks have been devoid of meaning. So I wander aimlessly, seeking purpose in my life. OOC: Bringing him back and seeing how it goes: Torch open for interaction in the hallways

IC: Skylor Sparrowhawk - Makuhero City I listen to the exchange wearily. The more they talk the more bored, tired and ####ed off I get.

IC: Skylor Sparrowhawk - Makuhero City "Um...a second ago you said you didn't care if I flew off, I'd just be fired. At least be consistent with your empty threats..."

IC: Skylor Sparrowhawk I stare at her for a second, head on one side, before saying: "Y'know, I was actually planning to fly off before you said that...but now you've convinced me not to."