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Year 06

About Zasshu

  • Birthday 05/12/1999

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    BIONICLE (duh!), model kit collecting/building, reading, drawing, writing, anime

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Nuhvok-Kal Attacks!

Nuhvok-Kal Attacks! (147/293)

  1. IC: Long Hyan-Fei - Odaiba - Western Wilderness, heading south A long stretch of silence passes between them then, each too absorbed in their thoughts to break from their tasks until they are completed. Hyan-Fei's hunger keeps her rooted to the riverbank, her eyes peeled for another big catch. The current makes it slightly more difficult; it is wilder at this point of the river, and it churns the water into cloudy white foam around her feet. The sight causes her mind to drift, reminds her of an exercise she repeatedly failed at during her time in the Long monastery... ~ The greatest Long Menti have honed their Dragon's Scales refinement to such a degree that they may sit beneath a raging waterfall and not only remain still, but not get wet. It is the temple sisters' desire for their fledglings to emulate this discipline, but as there are no waterfalls on Koshiki, they have to make do with the River that Runs Down the Mountain. Every sunrise, the temple sisters bring the monks-in-training to where the River's rapids kick up the largest splashes and wear down the stones the quickest. A large stone juts from the waters there. The exercise is simple- sit on that stone, empty your mind, and endure the River's battering as long as you can. Hyan-Fei never stays on the stone for more than a few seconds. She finds it impossible to empty her mind when the chill of the waters and the risk of being swept away command her constant attention. When she inevitably does get pulled into the depths, she fights it. She does not wait to drift down to the calm where the temple sisters can fish her out. Reorienting herself with the help of her mask power, she swims against the rapids with all her might and emerges, sodden, only a short distance from where she started, where she can see everyone frown at her. Hyan-Fei chooses to twist her "failure" into a new kind of exercise. She shortens her time in the water. She closes the distance between her and the assembly on the bank. Her body grows stronger, allowing her to put more power into her Soulfire techniques unaided by her Menti power. Her eyesight improves, allowing her to pick out important details in a sea of clutter. Her bond to her mask power increases, allowing her to complete her exercise quicker each time. She no longer feels affected by the scorn the temple sisters show her; in fact, she comes to almost relish in it. This continues for months. A temple sister takes Hyan-Fei out to the River alone one day. She instructs her to repeat the sunrise exercise, except she must return to the stone when she gets swept away, instead of to the riverbank. Hyan-Fei attempts to obey. She feels confident as she approaches the stone and breaches the surface to reach out to it. But the rapids have worn the stone's edges impossibly slick and smooth; she cannot get a hold on it to pull herself back up. The waters pull her under again, and again she swims against them. Again, and again, and again she is knocked away, until her strength finally runs out and she has no choice but to let the current sweep her down the River and into the calm. The temple sister is waiting for her when she flops onto land. Her lesson that day is clear. You must have the discipline to remain on your life's foundation, because returning to it once you are swept away from it is an exercise in futility. Hyan-Fei decides that day that she cannot be swept away from her life's foundation if her life does not have one. ~ And so Hyan-Fei has wandered over Odaiba, aimless, with few people to lean on and few ideals to pursue aside from vague impressions of what she thinks Taajar freedom is like. And she has almost nothing to show for it. Here, now, on an island thrown into the Dragons' den, with a new companion by her side and something of a goal to pursue, she will need more than a sloppy martial art and a broken quarterstaff to stay afloat. She will need to fight with all her strength to not get swept away by the current of chaos. ... After what seems like hours, Hyan-Fei decides that her hunt is done for the evening. Three decently meaty fish sit on the riverbank next to her; she and Kura will not go to bed hungry. Packing up her pole again, she returns to where Kura has begun assembling their campfire. She tries to rid herself of her "thinking expression," but a trace remains for her companion to see. And it looks like she has not been alone in thinking. OOC: @Palm yooooo
  2. one year = one name change.  reblog to save a life.

  3. new fic still droppin in 2022

  4. 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
  5. 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
  6. 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
  7. 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
  8. CALLING ALL SONS OF OKHOTNIK. YOUR FATHER IS DEAD. IT IS TIME TO COME HOME. this was due a long time ago holy cow
  9. 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.
  10. 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. 

  11. 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
  12. 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.

  13. 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."

  14. 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:

  15. 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.

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