Padishah Mehmet II

IC: (Cylund, Bar) act natural, the semimonstrosity in Cylund's head hissed at him as he slowly, half-drunkenly, swerved his head towards Eva. "Pretty," he absentmindedly muttered under his nose, before smiling and stretching his hand out in welcome. "Hi. Who are you?"

I've been told by people who supposedly know what they're talking about that this is the right forum to make this sort of topic, if there is a right forum to make this sort of topic at all. If those people were mistaken and consequently deluded me, moderators, I'm sorry and feel free to impale me with the sword of locked topics. So yeah. Hubert, in other words, Content With Life, our local Chinese-Australian Confucian anime fan and roleplayer, has 15,000 posts now. Congratulations to him for sticking it out on this forum long enough to acquire such an amount. Now, Hub, get off the computer, you need some air. -Dovydas

IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) Perkahn shot a serious, long glance at Loren. "Loren, this is the Lavapool Inn." "As a loyal Ta-Koronan you should very well know that its owner apparently has innumerable wealth, because the last sixty nine times someone caused a fight that destroyed half the tavern he rebuilt it within two days without a scratch. The man's got incredible stamina for this sort of thing, I'd have given up and actually tried to stop it at least one of those times." He took a long look around. Damage, for this sort of battle, was pretty minimal. "You know, you're right," The Toa of Iron said, while taking out a pouch where he kept his money and almost politely placing it on the bar still chock full of the entirety of the portion of his money that he had here. "It's time to move on to the courtyard. I'm sure you'll have no problem with that, right?"

IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) Smart kid. Unfortunately, she did not account for just one thing when she attempted to slap him. His sword. The weapon, alongside its wielder, initially staggered off the metal wall, but Perkahn's timely activation of his Kakama enabled him to steady himself much faster and strike back, swerving to the right and slashing with his blade at Krii's approaching hand. "You're welcome."

OOC: I was largely going by the fact that Toa of Iron can create metal and/or metallic protodermis, according to Biosector, which I always understood to mean "creating them from thin air" IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) A bash from the rear of the scythe could, essentially, only mean one thing - Krii was trying to push him off his balance. Naturally, Perkahn jumped back, dodging the attack - unfortunately, the unexpectedness of the jump had the unfortunate side effect of him tripping over a table that was just behind him. Before Krii could use this to her advantage, he stretched his hand out towards the bar, activating his elemental powers, sending a dozen metal cups flying out of the cupboards and towards her as he jumped to his feet, steadied himself and engaged her in another melee attack with his sword.

IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) The Toa of Iron vaulted backwards over a table, generating and launching a dozen narrow iron spikes back at his opponent while he was in the air. She averted them easily enough, engaging him again in a contest of who would outdance the other's blade. "The name is Perkahn," he said, punctuated by the sound of clashing blades, "Perkahn Highwind."

IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) Meanwhile, Perkahn was reforming Rebellion - albeit in a slightly different shape than before. The historic, nigh legendary battleaxe had now, for the sake of convenience, taken up the form of a greatsword, long, wide and if necessary capable of slashing the very support poles of this building in half. The audience, namely the guys who were drinking at the bar - completely unsurprised by yet another battle that may destroy (yet again) the inn - clapped enthusiastically at Perkahn and Krii's display of their crafting skills. Perkahn's Kakama glowed as he darted forward, swerving round in a wide pirouette around her just a step from Krii, aiming to hit her from behind.

IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) Okay, this was the last straw. You could punch Perkahn in the face, sure. But lay your hands on (and deform) Rebellion? The same battleaxe that currently holds the island-wide record for number of Muakas tamed simply by repeatedly bleepslapping them with the flat of the blade? That was too far. Too far. His own Kakama flashed briefly as he darted forward, snatching the bat from Krii's hand and immediately turning around, aiming a kick at this irritating little kid.

IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) Perkahn tossed a glance at the bartender, whose sole reaction was a deeply emotional sigh which probably translates into common Matoran as 'Again.' Taking that as permission, he drew his battleaxe, took a step back, gripped it tight, and swung it in a relatively close, controlled arc towards Krii's left shoulder. No tricks just yet. He needed to see how she'd defend herself.

IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) That, simply put, was not something Perkahn expected. The action was so unexpected, that he literally jerked back - and, since he was on a bar stool, he fell back first onto the ground. Regardless, he got up without major damage. Well, if this kid wanted a fight, she'd get a fight. "With or without weapons?" he said, standing up.

IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) Perkahn stared at this weird foreign kid for a few seconds, and then said: "What?"

IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) "These scars are past healing. Even my own wife couldn't help it, and she's a healer. Either way, don't think I've seen such a guy in Ta-Koro lately."

IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) To be honest, Perkahn rarely even remembered that those burns exist. They did not affect his wellbeing in any way, and at first, he didn't even get what the girl was talking about. "They're for life, I'm afraid. Anyway, this Sucogu fella you're looking for. Describe him, will you?"

IC: (Perkahn, Lavapool Inn) Perkahn, meanwhile, was killing time at the inn. He wasn't drinking - he did that rarely nowadays, usually because he never seemed to have a need to drink, at all. Upon Krii's entry, he rapidly scanned his memory for a Toa called Sucogu, and just as rapidly came to the conclusion that he had never met such an individual in his life. This individual, however, posed several questions, not nearly the least important of which was what she was doing in Ta-Koro. With the rising tension between the villages, Perkahn found himself slowly becoming suspicious of travellers. Especially well armed ones. "Who are you? Where do you come from?" he asked, awhile later.

You know, it's not fun being a Ta-Koro guardsman.TBH - that's how they tell me the kids say "to be honest" these days - it's pretty much worthless. When they targeted me and asked me to sign up, I was told there'd be wine, women and song, and every day would be like a moment in paradise. I mean, look at Jaller. The guy's got it all. He's got a girlfriend in Ga-Koro, been travelling with the Mata Nui-forsaken Toa at some point, and to top it all off, he actually has a house. There was no reason to believe the job would be as interesting as cleaning up kavinika dung from the gates of the city.There was especially no reason to believe the job would be cleaning up kavinika dung from the gates of the city, but hey, life's full of surprises. Surprises like, well, actually being below the kavinika-dung, and no, you may not ask how it happened. Make up your own story, if you must. Better yet, don't. Don't think about it at all.The rest of my job, really, isn't even the slightest bit more interesting. Remember when Jaller lead the Ta-Koro guard in an aesthetically beautiful assault on the greatest hikaki hive this side of... well, this endless ocean that surrounds us? Yeah, me neither. I, however, remember seventeen hours a day of checking passports. Passports, passports, passports. Whose stupid idea was to install passports on this island? I swear to Mata Nui, if I have to see another stone tablet with "I AM INSERTNAMEHERE" written on it (as if such a thing could not be fabricated, for the love of the Great Spirit) I will burn something.Probably Jaller. I'll probably burn Jaller."Kalama, change shifts."Yes, you sneaky mahispawn, with your calm and relaxed voice as I SINK IN KAVINIKA-DUNG. Keahi is the one person on this island I hate more than Jaller. It's not like a comrade in arms should stretch out his hand and drag me out or something. Just, you know. Kalama, change shifts. Bah. And this is supposedly the best guardsman in the city.I will not tell you people the story of how I swam out of said kavinika dung. I will not. All you need to know is that afterwards I head to the Guard's communal shower, in other words, the rain currently pouring down on Ta-Wahi's beach.Afterward, I head to the place people like me occasionally call "home", for lack of a better term - in other words, the island's largest homeless shelter. In yet other words, Tahu's canister.You have no idea how useful that thing is. Aside from me, two nameless NPCs that Greg Farshtey occasionally refers to as "interesting characters who need more air time as opposed to anyone whose storyline was ever left unfinished and hanging and leaving us hungry for more", live in the place. We make food by heading out to the Charred Forest, catching some little Rahi, and tying it to a rope and tossing it down into the Lake of Lava. Usually, the Guard would be ticked off, but the Guard has no legal capability to be ticked off at a Guardsman.Life is beautiful when you're a Guardsman. Yep. Sure is.

IC: (Elianne) "Elianne," she said, calmly and politely, to the receptionist. "Just Elianne. No surname."

Yeah, this is pretty much dead and will be closed in a few weeks by default anyway. Dangit. Sorry, guys. Messed this one up. -Dovydas

IC: (Terra-Erde-Tianxia Border) Arsalan sighed at the appearance of this new splinter of a universe, turned to John, and muttered, "Oh, and, uh, this universe colliding thing? It still happens from time to time."

IC: (Terra-Erde Border) "... what the even" The incomprehensible, not particularly expressive, statement emerged from Arsalan's mouth just as he saw Abraham descending upon them.

IC: (Border between Erde and Terra) "I'm Arsalan. Son of Ertugrul," the Tlúnian said, shaking the Doctor's hand. "I hail from one of these, hrm, collided worlds, called Tlún. Now I live in Terra." He moved aside, so as to not block the path for the newcomer who was seemingly trying to get to Erde.

IC: (Border between Terra and Erde) "... This has been this way for like a year now, mate."

IC: (Border between Erde and Terra) "Nope." A voice echoed from behind him. T'was a tall, olive-skinned human male, a blaster rifle slung over his shoulder and a sword strapped to his back. The youth was smiling, but not by much. "Not good at all. Just one question." Arsalan, son of Ertugrul, grinned. "What's not good at all?"

On the little matter of Tlún, I realized I forgot to talk more, when I submitted it, about the species that populate that splinter of a universe, as well as some other things, so I'll post them here for anyone who wants to know stuff. In Tlún as such, there are two main species - human and elf, as well as people born from inter-species relationships, such as halfelves, quarter-elves (quadroons), quarter-humans and so on. Most of the nobility are elves, while the lower classes consist of both humans and elves. Humans function pretty much as humans function in our little world - only thing that I think notable enough to mention is the fact that the Tlúnian human population consists, mostly, with few exceptions, of people of more or less dark skin (basically, olive). The elves are much like typical high fantasy elves as far as biology is concerned. For all intents and purposes, they look like humans, just with three distinctive traits - long, sharp ears, no canine teeth, and their facial hair grows a lot slower and starts growing a lot later, usually around 25 years of age, than human facial hair. Distinctly unlike humans, they can live for around three hundred years, and some individuals have been known to survive a whole four centuries. Signs of aging only appear around the two-hundredth year of their lives. Despite their longevity, they have a relatively brief period when they are able to reproduce - ranging from around the age of sixteen to about the age of fifty for both males and females. The people speak two almost unrelated languages, called High Tlúnian and Low Tlúnian, respectively spoken by the nobility and by the commonfolk. High Tlúnian is a language of elven descent that evolved from the tongue of the Arthmar people that founded Tlún, and Low Tlúnian is something of a jargon of a language that evolved from the merger of many languages that came from many of the peoples that moved to Tlún, most notably the Cerethi, the ancestors of most of Tlún's human population, a people that came to Tlún to escape persecution for being followers of a cult that worshipped magic. Low Tlúnian has only a negligible strata of linguistic influence from Arthmari, unlike High Tlúnian. -Dovydas