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Everything posted by Zasshu

  1. one year = one name change.  reblog to save a life.

  2. new fic still droppin in 2022

  3. couple'a wanderer girls are looking for survivors of the dragons' awakening and trying to get them to safety. been a minute since anything happened there, a new face might be a good shakeup
  4. IC: NPC's [Tohmarr, Hadeel] - The Eyries - Jabbar Peak "Mind your tongue, prey," Hadeel snarls. His voice is harshly accented, his dialect archaic, yet he speaks with enough clarity to cut through the din around him. "The Hunt does not venerate the profane." It would seem as though the Lesterin expects the same treatment as her Skakdi partner- an up-close-and-personal type of confrontation. She will be sorely disappointed; inebriated prey does not deserve such a privilege. Hadeel releases the arrow at her leg, then leaps back and releases more at her shoulder- the same shoulder she foolishly tore the arrow from a moment ago- aiming to pierce it further and wear it down quickly. His volley loosed, he whistles, and his mount comes running. In an easy motion he reseats himself and begins to circle, another arrow at the ready, enough distance between them for him to be reasonably safe from whatever drunken stumbling she intends to do. True to the Skakdi's intent, the burst of flame does frighten the mount, if only for a moment, but it is a moment that Tohmarr could spend fighting. At his mount's falter, he rolls off to the ground, managing to avoid the worst of the burst of flames. The headless end of the splintered spear catches alight; Tohmarr aims it low, knowing full well that burned legs and feet are agony to stand on. The steel head of the intact spear remains aimed at stomach and chest, occasionally slipping through the parrying to meet flesh. Tohmarr is a fervent warrior, but he is not stupid; he has not survived his Hunt this long on bloodlust alone. One of the weapons the Skakdi holds is unfamiliar, and unfamiliarity means danger. Capturing it or disabling it will be a priority. He swiftly closes the gap and increases the pressure himself, jabbing and sweeping, weaving in and out of the bursts of flame (though some do singe his skin), keeping all hands occupied and the Skakdi's attention on him alone... At a crucial moment, he gives a shrill whistle, and his abandoned mount leaps at the Skakdi from behind, aiming to snap and tear at the arm that ends in the unfamiliar weapon. OOC: @BULiK @Goose
  5. IC: NPC's [Tohmarr, Hadeel] - The Eyries - Jabbar Peak Hadeel's hunch turns out to be correct- no competent Skakdi warrior would go down with a single arrow. (He draws some amusement, however, from the place where the arrow has struck.) The Lesterin being thrown is, admittedly, surprising. Hadeel barely has time to register what is happening before he is hit and knocked off his mount; he hits the snow, the wind knocked out of him temporarily. The mount yelps at the sensation of being separated from its rider, and circles around warily to observe where the Lesterin has landed, ready to strike if she should make another hostile move. Hadeel himself rises soon after and prepares another arrow, aiming for the Lesterin's leg. Tohmarr, however, holds no reservations. At the sight of his companion being unseated so suddenly, he lets out a mighty bellow to answer the Skakdi's and makes his charge. He surely seems a frightening sight- bare-chested and oblivious to the bitter cold, still covered in fresh blood, astride a ferocious lizard- but he expects the warrior constitution of his spiky neighbor to remain firm. It will make the first blow a savory prize. Once near, amid his mount's snapping and snarling, the spearman makes several hard thrusts at the Skakdi's stomach and chest, both with his intact spear and with the splintered pole of a previous one. OOC: @BULiK @Goose
  6. IC: NPC's [Tohmarr, Hadeel] - The Eyries - Jabbar Peak The main village lies down the slopes, in the valley that marks the border between Jabbar Peak and the territory of another clan. It will be a challenging ride, but with speed and care, the outriders should make it back before the sun rises again. Tohmarr and Hadeel near the spot where they have made camp; today's Hunt necessitated that they spend much time away from it. As they draw closer, the mounts pause to sniff the air, then snap at it and yip uneasily. The scent that worries them reaches the riders as well- a faint scent, but distinct, belonging to neither beast nor fellow Kaiakan. They share a concerned look between them. Strangers. This is not good. Pausing their ride to administer the proper punishment will delay the ceremony, which must be done while the death is still fresh. Yet leaving the strangers to wander means that they might uncover things they were never meant to find, things that belong to the Okhotnik alone. And unlike beasts who may stumble across secrets and leave without understanding, strangers have minds that can think and tongues that can speak, which may tempt others to trespass after them. The clan is not welcoming to those who come to lay claim to the peak without Hunting for it. Hadeel makes the first move, edging his mount toward where the strangers sit. It would be wise to at least see who dares to intrude, he reasons. Perhaps they may be so weak that a proper punishment will not be needed, only a well-placed arrow or spear. This is optimistic thinking, however- whoever made it here is likely strong in will and body, and something more will have to be done. He motions for Tohmarr to stay put, which he does reluctantly. The archer sees the strangers, on the verge of descending to the outrider campsite, marked with clan banners. He draws his bow and fires four arrows, two for each of them. OOC: that'd be @BULiK and @Goose
  7. CALLING ALL SONS OF OKHOTNIK. YOUR FATHER IS DEAD. IT IS TIME TO COME HOME. this was due a long time ago holy cow
  8. IC: NPC's [Tohmarr, Hadeel] - The Eyries - Jabbar Peak The stench of hot blood is strong in the air. Tohmarr and Hadeel, two outriders of the Okhotnik clan, pursue their prey eagerly. Their prey- an enormous cat beast with a long tail and a thick black pelt- flees from them desperately. Blood pours from the wounds made by arrows and spears bristling from its hide; where blood falls, the snow goes up in steam. Tohmarr- a spearman, strong in the arms, missing an eye- bellows in excitement. Hadeel- an archer, lithe, missing three toes on his foot- licks his lips at the intoxicating metallic smell. Their mounts- bipedal, hairy lizards with fanged maws- near the point of frenzy. All relish this Hunt, for it is a good one. Hadeel lets fly three arrows, one of which pierces the prey's eye. It yowls in pain and turns to snap at its attacker; while it does, Tohmarr urges his mount to the prey's unprotected side, then dismounts it to roll into the snow. The mount, eager to taste the blood it has smelled, lunges forward and clamps its jaws onto the prey's neck. The two beasts claw and snap at each other, but the mount has been trained for this, and it inflicts more wounds on the prey than it receives. It eventually forces the prey onto its back, exposing its soft underbelly; arrows and spear shafts snap off and lay abandoned. With his last spear in hand, Tohmarr reaches the prey and drives his weapon into its great heart. A fountain of blood pours forth, splashing onto this arms and chest, and a great cry is torn from the beast- a cry that is silenced by Hadeel firing more arrows into its throat. The prey twitches madly, then is still. The Hunt is over. And it was a good one. The outriders, now both dismounted, reach for their carving knives and make to strip the prey for meat and pelt and bone to make weapons... and trophies, of course. Such a good Hunt demands a trophy of equal value that they may show to the clan and receive veneration for. They set to their work with a howl, a salute to death, who claimed the greatest trophy from the prey before they began their work. A sound from over the horizon cuts through their howl, a sound that sobers them up almost instantly and drives whatever pride they had in their conquest away- three loud blasts from a hunting horn. The three blasts mean that the Ohkotnik's chingghis eh-chingghis- the chief of chiefs, the greatest of the living clan fathers- has died. According to clan legend, Belet the Blessed, father of the Okhotnik, was the greatest Hunter to ever travel the peaks. In his hubris, he sought to Hunt the Bull of Tur, a beast with a hide so thick and a disposition so fierce that no Hunter who pursued it had successfully put their spear in it. Belet's Hunt led him across the peaks for many years, and he slew many beasts and carved trophies from them, but he did not reach the Bull until he was old and gray. In Gulgalla, which would come to be called Jabbar Peak, he found that the Bull was also old and gray, and tired of its existence as merely a prize to be Hunted. It asked Belet to put it out of its misery, and Belet accepted. Their battle shook the ice from the Highest Eyrie and carved a canyon that reached the lands below the mountain. In their battle, the Bull gored Belet through the stomach with one of its horns. With a burst of strength, Belet tore the other horn from the Bull's head and drove it into the beast's neck, finally killing it. Belet took the horn as his final trophy, and with the last of his power he hollowed it out and blew three great notes upon it, summoning his sons. By the time they arrived, death had claimed Belet as its greatest trophy. Since then, it has been clan tradition to blow Belet's horn thrice to mark the chingghis eh-chingghis' death and to summon all back to the village to partake in the ceremony of honor and succession. Hunts, prayer ceremonies, scouting- all is suspended when the chingghis eh-chingghis dies; his final honors take the utmost priority. Tohmarr and Hadeel bury their kill deep in the snow to preserve it, sit astride their mounts once again, and wheel themselves around to face the clan village. It is time to go home.
  9. imma keep it real with you DuckBricks changing one letter isn't going to repair or prevent the massive amount of damage this community's already sustained

    1. Mushy the Mushroom

      Mushy the Mushroom

      *Baffled of Bionicle happenings outside of BZP*

    2. Mushy the Mushroom

      Mushy the Mushroom

      Happy birthday! 🥳

      ~vigilante calendar checker. 

  10. IC: Chiaki - Ta-Wahi - The Charred Forest > Ta-Koro It would seem that the time has come for the parting of ways. A shame, really; even if it was a bit too eventful for my liking (as my leg can attest), the time we spent together was enjoyable. I find that I'd rather like to continue traveling with this lot, perhaps help the Lesterin or the gray one uncover more of their missing memories. But the gray one's duties, and the Lesterin's troupe's destinies, lie on a path that isn't my own. Far be it from me to keep them from them. "A pleasure while it lasted, friend," I say to the gray one as I shake his hand. "Let's run into each other again sometime." I turn to give similar, proper farewells to the other three, but they're already far down the road to Ga-Wahi. All the questions I had for the tree man about his nature go with them. I linger a few awkward moments more before I finally make my own way down the road, nothing more new on me than a hole in my hat and whatever scant goodies I picked up during the fight with the Skakdi. (Thoughts of a mentioned reward for that fight flit through my brain for a second. Whatever happened to that offer, I wonder?) My time on the road proper is about as uneventful as my time wandering through the forest. At least here, I don't have to keep climbing trees to check if I'm going the right way. True to the gray one's words, it leads me straight to the Koro. A wave of heat and a smell of burning stone greet me as I reach the borders. Both things I could do without, but my pleasure at reaching proper civilization overrides my discomfort. The thought of a proper meal and an actual bed to lay down in as I prepare for my next move fills my head- Wait. What next move? I find that I've quite forgotten what it was I decided I was going to do once I got here. I guess the goal of "just going forward" I've had over the past however long it's been superseded my grander goal a while ago. I hope I can remember what it was before the time to leave comes again; as much as I've grown to like wandering, I don't think I can do it aimlessly for much longer. OOC: see ya guys. open for interaction
  11. just as you cannot have a coin with one side, you cannot have peace without violence, nor violence without peace.  in peace, you must continuously use violence to cut away that which would break it, both within and without.  and in violence, you must have inner peace enough to perfectly measure your actions, lest you reach too far or not far enough.  the fate of you and those who depend on you hinges upon this balance.

  12. the great enemy that is called "I" desires self-preservation.  with hands, one enacts the violence necessary for self-preservation.  for these reasons, the great enemy lives in your hands.  but left to instinct, they will thrash about meaninglessly, and the only violence enacted will be against you.  for what do hands know of discipline?  discipline is found in the teachings sealed in your mind and heart.  you must allow the teachings to break free and flow into the rest of you.  allow your mind and heart to reach your hands.  the desire for self-preservation will inform your discipline, and likewise your discipline will subdue the instinct to thrash.  in this way, your acts of violence will be well-measured.  this is unity. this is destruction of the great enemy that is called "I."

  13. the april fools joke this year is that this site still exists

    1. Mushy the Mushroom

      Mushy the Mushroom

      Words like that may tempt the poor creature to crash again! :ziplip: :lol:

  14. what know you of the hundred-and-eight precepts of the toa code?

    1. Mushy the Mushroom

      Mushy the Mushroom

      nothing, I'm afraid.

    2. Zasshu


      good.  then there is little for you to unlearn.  listen, girl.  the hundred-and-eight precepts are meaningless.  a true toa lives by one principle alone: violence.

  15. IC: Long Hayn-Fei - Odaiba - Western Wilderness, heading south Hyan-Fei does hear the waver in Kura's voice, sees her turn away just a little too quickly, feels the aura of doubt radiating off her. She can tell that her companion is thinking that roping her into this expedition, or maybe even the expedition itself, was a bad idea. The reiteration once again of her, Hyan-Fei's, intact status sounds even more like she is trying to convince herself that it is a good sign, when in reality, it is almost certainly not a sign at all. Perhaps lingering and looking for survivors is a bad idea. But an even worse idea is lingering and looking for survivors by yourself. After all, in times of danger, the only way to guarantee that someone comes out alive is to have that someone be you. And that is much easier to do with someone watching your back. For this reason, Hyan-Fei does not regret coming along. (Plus, bad idea or no, she finds that she enjoys Kura's company more than she thought she would.) She sees that Kura needs some comforting words; alas, her brusqueness will likely mangle any she could offer. She settles for giving a small smile and an encouraging, if somewhat rough, pat on the shoulder, hoping that that will be enough. Leaving her companion to her task, she retrieves her fishing pole and begins trying to catch their dinner- seated on the bank, feet dipped in the water, in exactly the same pose she was in when their paths first crossed. OOC: @Palm
  16. IC: Long Hyan-Fei - Odaiba - Western Wilderness, heading south "If you try tossing me back on there without permission, I'll toss you in the river," Hyan-Fei replies with just enough bluster to indicate that she is likewise teasing. Her serious expression lasts for all of a few seconds more before she starts to laugh along with Kura. But her laugh is interrupted by a small groan of pain as her muscles remind her that they need some relief; she answers their call by doing some lower-body stretches. As she stretches, she looks a question at Kura. Wanting to know what her companion thinks of their first day of journeying so far, she makes her question verbal. "So. Do you still have a good feeling about this?" OOC: @Palm
  17. bionicle fans stayin on that losing grindset (100 emoji) (bicep emoji) (crying emoji)

  18. IC: Chiaki - Ta-Wahi - The Charred Forest The Lesterin's and the gray one's comments are enough to finally break the dam holding my questions back. From the way they phrase it, it sounds like they both started from somewhere else, somewhere they forgot in their journey from there to here, somewhere that they've only remembered since being here. "What could possibly be out there to make you forget something so important?" I ask, mostly to the Lesterin, but also to the gray one and whoever else in the group might also share the experience. "And if you're remembering again here, is whatever made you forget not here?" The idea puts a slight damper on my potential desire to sail off at some point- as bad as I've had it here sometimes, I don't want to forget where I came from. I fumble around in my bag and pull out my notebook of odd magical snippets. The comments, and whatever answers come with them, are too interesting to not jot down. OOC: @Razgriz @Geardirector @Harvali @Snelly @ARROW404 sorry about fallin off the wagon lads
  19. IC: Long Hyan-Fei - Odaiba - Western Wilderness, heading south Is it nearly sunset already? Time must fly when lost in thought or having fun, and Hyan-Fei is not sure which of those applies more to her. Regardless, the time to stop for the day has apparently come, if a little earlier than she would like. But she supposes it would do no good to wander about in the dark when there are dragons and spined things to look out for, and it would do the same to drag her new companion into her bad habit of staying up too late. At the pointed boulder, which looks remarkably like an ancient sundial, Kuar offers her hand and warns about the dismount. Hyan-Fei gives a smile and a small "Hmph" in return, as if to say, "I've got this." She does not, however, have this. As she begins moving to dismount, the muscles of her hips and lower back tweak and seize from the pain of being worked more than usual over the bumps and bounces of Naiana's gait. She begins losing her balance so badly that her still-activated mask power cannot compensate for it, and it is only the last-second grabbing of Kura's hand that keeps her from landing sprawled on her back in the dirt. Back on her feet, trousers dusted off, and mask power deactivated, Hyan-Fei crosses her arms and pouts, fully expecting Kura to giggle at her... less than graceful dismount. OOC: @Palm no worries mate. i think a hearty "welcome back" is in order
  20. canon contests are dead let's gooooo

  21. bzpower forums stop crashing every month challenge (impossible) (100% fail)
  22. all of the problems i have with the contests can be traced back to the people at the TTV running them. between their almost total lack of transparency, their introduction of arbitrary new rules in the middle of the contests being run, and their inability to take genuine criticism or playful ribbing, they've made the whole thing a disaster for everyone involved. but their biggest offense, in my opinion, has got to be the culture they've cultivated surrounding bionicle lore and canon, which can be summed up as "greg's word is law, we must only operate off of greg's word, therefore we must harass him at every turn for his insights on (insert inane thing here)." why does it matter what the yesterday quest gang's weapons are, which direction the barbs on tuyet's broadsword face, what lariska's cup size is, or whatever other obscure and pointless piece of trivia they're obsessed with now? are these questions really so monumentally important that they have to force greg to take time away from his real life to answer the questions of a handful of frothing neckbeards about a children's toyline twelve years dead? i've said it before and i'll say it again- "don't mess with us bionicle fans, we're devoted to making sure absolutely no intrigue, mystery, or room for creative interpretation exists in our hobby." screw the TTV, screw the canon contests, and screw bionicle canon. just make your own stuff if you're so interested in it, and don't let daddy greg saying it is or isn't allowed stop you. okay, this made me seethe. do you have any earthly idea how entitled and selfish you sound here? there's this thing called "real life" that everyone has- even your precious greg- which is currently being affected by a thing called "a global pandemic." those two things deserve much higher priority and much more devoted time than a toy photography contest where the only prizes are bragging rights and your jpeg on a website. not everyone wants to be, or can afford to be, as single-mindedly devoted to bionicle as you. you make it out as if you are owed more of these trainwrecks. you are not. you are owed nothing.
  23. i am the night
    i am vengeance
    i am driving a panzerkampfwagen through your house

  24. Hear! Belet’s horn heralds the coming of a new dawn. It praises those still left to Hunt in the day, and it mourns those who have been Hunted in the night. It instructs the weak to become mighty, and it instructs the mighty to reach greater heights. It calls us all to Hunt- for game, for glory, for godhood. To live is to Hunt. To Hunt is to kill. To kill is to live. The Hunt gives, and the Hunt takes away. Praise be to the name of the Hunt! for your consideration: KAIAKAN CLAN- OKHOTNIK EYRIE Jabbar Peak, east of the High Eyrie, is generally regarded as the Okhotnik clan’s territory. A frequent victim of blizzards and avalanches, it nevertheless houses a great many resources for those with the tenacity to Hunt for them. The clan’s decently sized main village consists of many dome-shaped huts made of bone, hide, and fur, able to be collapsed for relocation. Hunters’ huts form a protective ring around the yard, which houses the cookfires, stables, and leaders’ huts. Offshoot “villages”- little more than outriders’ campsites- can be found close by, or far away from, the village, and follow it wherever it goes. The clan frequently travels up and down Jabbar Peak, going where the resources are, never lingering in a spent spot for too long. Their emblem- the skull of a great cat beast, thrust through with a spear- marks every resting place, new and old. Okhotnik was here. CULTURE The Okhotnik clan and its responsibilities are divided into three groups- Hunters, priests, and administrators. Each group is overseen by a chingghis (Kaiakan word roughly translated as “chief”), who are themselves overseen by a chingghis eh-chingghis (“chief of chiefs”). While everyone is expected to know how to Hunt, Hunters Hunt as their primary job. They seek out resources in the region they have settled down in- primarily beasts, to use as food and construction material, but also lumber, valuables, and sometimes other sapient beings- conquer what they can each day, and bring it back to the village. Some Hunters take on the role of outriders, surveying as-yet untouched territory to see if the village will be able to survive there. Priests are charged with conducting religious ceremonies and overseeing other traditional rituals. Administrators are the closest thing the clan has to royalty. They oversee the allocation of resources and manpower, uphold clan law, and in general makes sure that the clan survives another day. Administrators also tend to be the greatest of the clan’s Hunters, and are always at the head of the caravan when the village relocates, ready to act as the first line of defense. TRADITIONS The Okhotnik clan has taken the Kaiakan mantra of survival to its logical extreme and turned it into a religion. Eschewing the idea of cosmic beings that embody good and evil, they instead worship the Hunt- a metaphor for the daily chance to prove that one can weather the constant hardships of life and make themselves worthy of seeing another sunrise. As famous clan scripture says, “To live is to Hunt. To Hunt is to kill. To kill is to live.” Every aspect of clan life is tied in some way or another to the Hunt. The closest thing they have to gods are their folk heroes, whom they exalt as prized trophies claimed by death itself. The chingghis eh-chingghis is expected to be knowledgeable in matters Hunt-related, religious, and administrative. When he dies, his first male heir is tentatively named his successor. The clan is then assembled to witness a ritual of challenge, where the heir and the eligible chingghis fight bare-handed in a ring of stones. The result of the ritual can only be determined by bloodshed. If a chingghis spills the heir’s blood, they become the chingghis eh-chingghis. But if no drop of the heir’s blood is spilled, he remains the successor. There can be- and have been- female chingghis, but the chingghis eh-chingghis is always male. Holders of the former title are addressed with the honorific gol (“sir/ma’am”), and holders of the latter with the honorific tem-gol (“great sir”). ATTITUDES The Okhotnik clan believes that outsiders should remain outside unless specifically allowed in. They see an uninvited guest as a challenge to prove that they are still the dominant force on Jabbar Peak. It is not uncommon to see strange and foreign weapons scattered among their more traditional arsenal, trophies taken from defeated outsiders. When everyone is in their place, however, clan opinions soften somewhat. They at best tolerate the other Kaiakan clans, begrudgingly respect the Skakdi- especially those who have gone the way of the warlord- and view non-combatant types like the Lesterin as pushovers who did not earn their lives through triumph in the Hunt. good evening bzprpg, it's ya boy capMARVELOUS. are things on seprilli happening just a little too slowly for your tastes? do you feel as if your profiles post is missing a certain rustic flair? do you want to take advantage of a currently unexploited niche like the filthy capitalist you are? do you like snow? if you answered yes to any or all of these questions, then congratulations! the okhotnik clan, the first(?) player-created kaiakan clan, is for you! the tl;dr on these guys is that they've basically spent the last however-long-it's-been mucking about in the eyries of seprilli and doing their best to survive- the usual kaiakan shtick. but with all the weird goings-on going on lately, and with a massive clan shake-up on the horizon, just surviving may end up becoming much harder than it already is. if you're interested in making important clan figures, or clan figures in general, graduate from mere npc's to full-fledged characters (and by extension, helping lighten the load of running this entire thing), then don't hesitate! apply now!
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