Padishah Mehmet II

for something entirely new and surprising, I will now to you present my new standard for my character profiles. My profiles will no longer have profile forms in them.You heard that right.I will be using descriptions for profiles. From these descriptions, you can really glean all the information you need - heck, you can glean a lot about the characters' personalities from them, because they are all in first person.-Dovydas

for something entirely new and surprising, I will now to you present my new standard for profiles. My profiles will no longer have profile forms in them. You heard that right. I will be using descriptions for profiles. From these descriptions, you can really glean all the information you need - heck, you can glean a lot about the characters' personalities from them, because they are all in first person.Hello, people. My name is Cylund. Now, you'll find that the individual commonly referred to as my creator has found a new grandiose way to tick people off and force them to read the entirety of his characters' profiles. Merely reject the ridiculous and illiterate idea of using a form in your profile and write actual paragraphs about them, heck, not even about them - by them. So please, join me in sitting down in the padmasana posture. Here, have this little drink while you're at it. Be careful, though. I've known people who died after drinking it. If I were completely in command yet... you would indeed die after drinking it. I am Cylund's freedom, I am the darkness within his heart, and I will destroy--- nurgh! Like I said, my name is Cylund. I'm a Toa of Plasma, and so far I have spent my life being male. I'm tall, handsome, with a chin pointed just the right amount - nor too much nor too little - and a nose short enough to be effeminate. (Don't tell anyone I admitted that or I will shoot you.) I wear a Hau. Amusingly enough, some people have actually failed to realize that, like a duelist I once knew. Speaking of dueling, hold these two swords while I tie my shoes. I just had them sharpened. I was created by accident. It was on the day of the battle when the Rahkshi attacked Le-Koro, and Cylund stood, hoping to stem their tide. He succeeded, but at what cost? All it took was a Kraata of Anger. I showed him - me - the true errors of my ways, and now I, the Revenant, am Cylund. I have few hobbies, but the ones that I do have I love with all my heart. Snowboarding, drinking, women. More drinking. More women. And then more women. Drinking, women, and more women can also happen at the same time, I don't mind.What do I do in life, you ask? Well... I seek vengeance. I have for too long been bound by humaneness, morality, all those things are below me. I will conquer--- He's a mercenary with a penchant towards a difficulty towards finding actual work. Now then, Cylund, get out of the way. You've talked enough. With two minds talking, no less. Okay, now that we're rid of him for now... my name is Elianne. Who am I? I'm a Toa of Lightning wearing a Rau who has had a particularly bad year (the Rau has nothing to do with it). I've been put in a vat by a mad scientist, because, apparently, there's a power in my blood. Sounds cool, doesn't it? Yeah, well, it's a fat load of use to me, because there is one hugely important side rule to that. (O/T: have any of you seen my spear and shield) I will never be able to access said power. Heck, I will never be able to understand said power, because the aforementioned scientist is dead. And good riddance. My childhood - the childhood of an orphan found high in the mountains - I spent in a mountain monastery, trained in the arts of war and the sciences of nature. I left it once I reached the age of majority, with the goal I assigned to myself - that of finding my parents. A year later, I joined the Toa Astha; a month after that, I was kidnapped by that psychopathic scientist. I love the thrill of battle, more than anything more in this world. Once, I thought I would become a Toa like in the olden days, a glorious hero fighting for the peace of this island. I was wrong. Life turned out otherwise. But the point does not change. I am a warrior. And I will liberate this island of all its evils. Or I will die trying. Thank you, Elianne, that was most entertaining, now get off the stage. So, people. My name is Arkei. The overall majority of you may find that you know me as the Toa of Stone with the wristblades and the Pakari and the penchant for pillars that Perkahn and Grochi sealed in a plasma-filled cavern. There's just two details. One, the overall majority of you are huge nincompoops. Second, I got better. But anyway. For those of you who do not know me, I am Arkei. I am, quite frankly, an insurrectionary. Every step I take is filled with protest, with riot, with revolt at this world. This horrible world which will not change on its own, but which I must change. At any price--- *punch* Yes, well, people, that little mukau back there was Arkei. If anyone wants to talk to him, he'll be waiting for you, relatively somewhat unconscious, on the floor. I'm Perkahn. Perkahn Highwind. Son of Diarmuid Highwind, son of Duibhne Highwind. Husband of Arianna Highwind, father of Jolek Highwind. I am a six-foot-and-a-half-tall Kakama-wearing Toa of Iron with a battleaxe - to be specific, Rebellion - as sharp as Makuta's wits that I will definitely not allow you to see, let alone touch. That is the express privilege of Arkei and people like him that get on my nerves. Oh, they get to touch it alright, right at the neck. My armor is a mixture of the colors dark brown and dark red, and my mask is time-weathered, sometimes even scarred. My right hand is covered with a figurative net of mild, long-forgotten, no-longer-painful burns. But anyway. This has been a lovely year. I'm back home, after quite a while, and I seem to be actually living life as I ought to be. Living off helping the ordinary Matoran alongside my beautiful wife, and when that isn't enough, going hunting in the Charred Forest with my son. For once in my life, everything is right. Of course, since I'm part of the gloriously unfortunate Highwind clan, there's going to be some stuff that will quite definitely ruin my life some time soon. But for now, I'm hoping there won't be, because for now, I am the happiest man on this earth. I'm sure hoping there won't. It would be depressing to see you die after all the effort you went through to come back to me. My name is Arianna Highwind, and I am the happiest woman on this earth, the loving and proud wife of this lazy arse that happens to be my husband. By profession, I am a healer - came natural to me, being a Toa of Lightning with a Mask of Healing. Don't get deluded by the shape of my mask, which is that of a Huna. Despite being a healer, and thus a peaceful person most of the time, I am skilled with a longsword as well, that being my weapon of choice. A long, one-handed sword which I mostly use in conjunction with my lightning powers, when pushed into such an unfriendly situation as one where I would need to participate in battle. I prefer to assist the Matoran in more everyday tasks and tending to their healing needs than to openly combat threats to them, but when that is necessary, I have no qualms about doing what is needed. Nevertheless, me and Perkahn's adventuring days are long over - it's time to settle down already, spend time with our returned son, and raise, this time without interruptions, a proper family. Hopefully. ... We jinxed it, didn't we.

IC: (Chirox's Quarters) While there were no keys or anything in the drawers - understandable, because Chirox, when he was still alive, would no doubt check them often - there were a few documents. Some of them seemed like letters, and the most peculiar was a brief message, scribbled down quickly on some parchment. It was so old, it was probable that just touching it would turn it to dust, so that particular course of action was ill-advised. However, the words were rather clear and... written in Makuta, with the Matoran script.

a) stop stealing my ideas kthxbai b) gimme gimme gimme -Dovydas

what is this about knights on hoverbikes I hear -Dovydas

IC: (Elianne, Somewhere in Po-Wahi) Hope. It was the only thing she could remember. Not even the emotion, gods no, that emotion was long gone. That one word resounding in her head, however, remained. Every breath she took was taken whilst mentally repeating the word, "hope". Hope. Hope. Hope. She wasn't sure why she was doing this anymore. She wasn't quite sure where she was, why was she there or who she was. Every second of life seemed pointless, grim, and dark, mainly because she wasn't quite sure that a life where her consciousness had no effect and no relation to her mind was an actual life. Every breath she took was pointless, grim, and dark, and her mind, devoid of all memory and consciousness by now, remained in command of just one word in the entire Matoran vocabulary. Hope. Hope. Hope. Her breathing wasn't exactly normal either. She couldn't remember what normal was, but it definitely wasn't this. Her breathing was automatized, forced into action by the machine that kept her alive to be used as a guinea pig for some experiment she wasn't sure of neither the goal nor the reason for. Hope. Hope. Hope--- and it shattered, the veil that was cloaked across her consciousness, separating her from all the functions of her body. She wasn't sure what happened, at all, but something powerful, something overwhelming seemed to resonate through the entire universe. This last breath, she felt, and she felt the single word escape her now moving lips. "Hope." Barely believing her own eyes, she saw her fist clench, despite the resistance the liquid in the vat was giving her. Suddenly, she realized. She knew, once again, who she was. She was Elianne of the Toa Astha, and she was alive. She felt her eyes open, and her skin suddenly felt cold, and she suddenly was very aware of her nakedness. Her fists were clenched, clenched so strongly that they hurt, and she suddenly realized she could, right now, bend this situation to her will and break free. Her fists launched forward, shattering the vat that she was kept in, and she felt herself flying through the air, amidst a million shards of glass. Screaming like a wildcat, she landed flatly atop the computer screen she now remembered was responsible for maintaining her being locked within that vat, and extended her fist out to the face of the guy sitting right in front of said screen, knocking him straight out cold. Descending with a small jump back to the floor of this underground facility, she observed, calmly, the guards gather in the chamber, surrounding the fat little Piraka of an Onu-Matoran responsible for this whole operation, still dressed in a white lab coat. "Impossible!" the guy hissed, his voice trembling with what Elianne rather correctly read as fear. "This is... impossible!" "Impossible? Oh, no," the Toa of Iron replied, taking a single dagger from the limp body of the man she had just disabled, as well as a threatening step forwards that had the Matoran's three mercenary guards scrambling into a defensive position, their swords drawn and shields ready. "You know what's really impossible? It's impossible that I would find myself, stark naked, put in a vat and hibernated by some fat Matoran pervert. Yet it seems that's what has happened." One more step, and one of the mercenary guards rushes to block her advance, lunging with his sword. Silly little moron - all Elianne needed to do was dance away from the strike, extend her fingers outward, channeling her Electricity powers out through the guy's sword. Up the blade. And up the hilt into the merc's hand. "And now..." The next merc stood up to greet her. Seeing what she had done to his currently electrocuted colleague, he opted for a simpler choice - put his shield in front, stab with blade. Once again, Elianne danced away, this time dancing right over his head: The Toa of Lightning sent a small lightningbolt towards his face, distracting him long enough for her to jump back, use the computer panel as leverage, and push herself through the sky in a most impressive somersault to the other side, where she promptly backstabbed the second merc with her dagger, only to swing a full 180 degrees and stab the last merc in the throat just as he was raising a sword. He gargled briefly and then quickly and without much delay slumped to the ground. Elianne, with a few quick steps, found herself grabbing the fat little Piraka by the throat, raising all of his sheer mass into the air, and slamming him, hard, into the nearest wall. "... and now I'm going to leave this place. You, filthy, little... you know, I killed because of you. I just killed three men who did nothing wrong and were just trying to earn a living doing what they did best. Because of you, you little filthy Piraka. I am sure as Karz making sure you die with them." Elianne dragged him to the next room. This wasn't a small facility - she couldn't remember it that well, but she soon found that the next room, to her great enjoyment, had a fuel tank - and an elevator out of there. The fuel tank was a large one. Easily enough to blow that whole facility to bits. Using a bit of rope she found in a side room, she tied this little son of a fat Piraka to the fuel tank, rather casually, for an escapee from a containment vat in their workplace, pointing a dagger at the group of scientists that was gathered in said side room - which looked rather like a cafeteria - indicating for all of them to get out. Elianne kindly waited for them to use the elevator - in the meantime, she could look for her equipment. Found it stashed in a locker in another side room. Putting her armor back on after so much time felt somewhat nice. Once the elevator returned, Elianne had just finished using some gunpowder to make a trail on the floor from the fuel tank to the elevator. This base was packed with stuff that was a hazard, really. It was even so convenient as to provide her matches. It was now that the little Piraka reached his high point of begging for mercy. "Please! I'll do anything you say! Just let me live, I beg you!" For a moment before hitting the elevator button, Elianne seemed genuinely curious. "Anything I say?" "Anything!" "Good. I say you should die." The elevator started rising. It was not a stable thing - wooden, very basic, and there was a wide crack in the floor. For Elianne, however, that was very convienient, as she could drop the burning little match down to the trail of gunpowder. Minutes later, Po-Wahi felt another tremor, not quite like the doom of Makuta, which was, if a tremor at all, then a mental one. This tremor was physical. Aspiring seismologists in Po-Koro later claimed that it was a small magnitude earthquake. No one could say for sure, because no one was in that particular heartland bit of Po-Wahi's desert at the time. However, if they had been, what they would've seen was a Toa of Lightning covered from feet to forehead in ash emerge by way of flight, alongside an explosion of fire and granite, from somewhere deep underground. Landing cleanly and more or less painlessly due to being snuggled by the sands of Po-Wahi, Elianne smiled as the sun, once again, shone on her face. Panting heavily, it was not for another fifteen minutes that she stood up.

I was going to hang Hubert from a rocky outcropping on the Niagara Falls, but then Naona didn't die. Good. Pleased Dov is pleased. -Dovydas

I'm betting there's a special circle of Karz just for you where you will be repeatedly flogged with shoelaces for all eternity, you genius in a psycho's clothing. -Dovydas

[11:00:52 PM] Dovydas: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF[11:00:52 PM] Dovydas: GABE[11:00:55 PM] Dovydas: YOU MAGNIFICENT [11:01:03 PM] Dovydas: #%*&&%#*#%&*%*&*&%#*&%#[11:01:07 PM] Dovydas: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF[11:01:09 PM] Dovydas: OH MY GOD[11:01:12 PM] Dovydas: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF my feels, as expressed on skype moments ago. -Dovydas

Possibly also the awesomest. This is why I love wrap-up topics. All these feels. -Dovydas

There. I am finally done. the final chapter Considering this is (probably, hopefully, utterly) the final post involving Perkahn in the 2012 arc, let me just say a few final words about him that you may or may not care about. You probably won't. No worries, though, because caring about things that go on in an online roleplay about a dead children's toyline isn't exactly high on most people's priority lists, especially things that do not actually involve most of your characters. Writing Perkahn has been fun. It has. This is the character I have, through his successes, failures, failures due to me being asleep at the time when important plot stuff was going on, occasional drunk ramblings, with huge help from my excessive time spent on the computer, my getting high on apple juice, and every idiotic idea I've had for the lulz but then pitched to other people and they told me that the idea was amazing and I should totally do it (they said it for the lulz as well, yeah, but I took it seriously) fleshed out into the most complex, most realistic character I've got. I would be lying if I said I was disappointed with the way I made this guy. I would honestly be lying if I said I had any major regrets when it came to telling this story of a guy running around the island like a squirrel on caffeine trying to get a proper amnesty for past crimes (that he didn't do) and always being one step behind everything. So, if you want to read the happy ending to this incessant squirrel run, read that last chapter. -Dovydas

IC: (Perkahn, Ta-Koro) the (presumably, hopefully, utterly) final chapter. Watching his long-lost wife embrace his long-lost son, Perkahn felt his heart stir within his chest. Warm blood coursed ever louder within his veins, a blood that had seen hundreds of years of life, hundreds of years of anguish, suffering, pain, hundreds of years of anger, disdain, hate. Hundreds of years of love, of dedication, of belief and of faith. In the last twenty-something years, Perkahn often felt as if the world was repeatedly hammering him with some pretty horrible stuff he could not do anything to stop. First, Jolek disappeared, and Perkahn was helpless; and then Perkahn was exiled, for reasons he could not help either, because he didn't do anything! And then someone tried killing him in that jungle - he realized that he still didn't know who that was, but it didn't really matter right now. That jungle he left under the pretext of needing to find whoever wanted to kill him, but that wasn't really it, was it? No. He left that jungle because sitting in one place, complacent with the fate that this world had given him, had long grown to be a moot point entirely. I live, he could now finally say. I finally live. There was just one more loose end. Unfortunately, this one he couldn't do anything to fix, because this one end was dead. "Perkahn Highwind, I sentence you to exile." Vakama, you old... fool. And mentor. And protector. After Diarmuid's death, surrogate father. You lived with the deeply-held belief that Perkahn had gone over to the dark. Why? Not once in his lifetime was Perkahn ever tempted to join the forces of the Makuta. Everything he loved, everything he believed in, was in the Light. Maybe Vakama foresaw Perkahn's life? Maybe Perkahn needed to be exiled so he could come back as he did, bringing twenty years of frontline experience fighting in various strategic backgrounds he would've not experienced if he had stayed in the city guard? Bringing back twenty years of bottled up emotion so acidic it could just melt the Rahkshi entirely? Twenty years of undoing a curse the past had given him. Twenty years of bloody struggle. Twenty years that end with victory. Twenty years of not being home have seen him back home. "I knew I'd see you again," Arianna whispered to her son and released him, turning towards Perkahn. She gave him a single smile of equal parts exertion and happiness. "You," she took a step closer towards him, her finger stretched out towards him in an accusing manner, but a smile not leaving her face, "You bloody moron. Are you crazy? What got into your mind to get exiled to the middle of nowhere and not come back for twenty years? Karz, I want to know what insanity got into me for me to initially have refused to come with you, because, for the love of Mata Nui, do you have any idea how hard it is to live without you?" She pushed him against the wall with that accusing finger of hers, and now that there was nowhere for him to run, she hugged him, and he held her, feeling her heart beat beside his. "I'm more or less certain it's not that bad. Without you, however, life has been horrible." "I can imagine. Shut up and kiss me." Perkahn, for the first time in twenty years, felt, stirring within his gut, something that he remembered very well as the emotion - the queen of all emotions, without whom the world entirely is a moot place - called love as he kissed his lovely wife for the first time in twenty years. "I love you," he whispered to her as she placed her head upon his shoulder. "******, Perkahn, I wanted to say that first," she replied, tears of joy in her eyes. And then she dragged herself out of his embrace and glanced at Jolek. "Still, I can assume that we're embarrassing our son quite a bit by making him the sole observer of our reunion. So I'm not going to subject him to more of this - we'll have more time to continue this later anyway - and instead ask you two something else. Are you hungry?" For the first time in twenty years, Perkahn actually felt hungry. Not the generic need for some sustenance, because you know that if you don't get it you'll die, but an actual civilized, cultural wish to eat food, and preferably good food, too. And Arianna's cooking definitely fit that bill. "Starving." OOC: and with that, radies and gentermen, Perkahn's story for this year (probably) finally concludes.

I am truly, utterly, and paralytically mortified. I kindly request that you edit that and traumatize no one else with such sheer horrible. -Dovydas

GM IC: Chirox's quarters were not as secure as Mutran's lab in this day and age. Their door had been ripped out of its hinges entirely by something of truly inhuman power, and the entrance lied unguarded, trapless to a room which the refugees had mostly left alone because of its sheer uselessness.In the cold, damp air of the room, it felt almost as if in this chamber, shadow itself curled up and died in a corner.There wasn't much left here, under a thick layer of dust and spiderweb. There was a bed, a desk, a wardrobe. On the wall hung a single Rahkshi staff that looked more decorative than anything.Chirox was long dead, after all, and unlike for Mutran, for him, that was a problem when defending his property.

Yeah, exactly.It's just an imho thing based on the fact that, dangit, I liked Angelus/Tuara more.-Dovydas

In a weird way, SkyraxTilian works. Probably better than most pairings.In4someonesays,"BLASPHEMY".A pairing that I rather do not approve of is DorianXTuara.-Dovydas

;____________________________________________; ^ my emotions right now. -Dovydas

Actually rather excellent, especially among posts by you, if I do say so myself. What's that supposed to imply? That most of your posts were worse. Not to say they were bad. Just not as good. Well, I still have on character left in Ta, so... sure. Good. I'll try to get something organized, if everyone else is okay with it. -Dovydas

People, I think we should throw an official feast for the victory before this week ends. Ta-Koro can hold the feast in Perkahn's house, I don't mind. -Dovydas

Actually rather excellent, especially among posts by you, if I do say so myself. I rather like how the wrap-up has everyone do psychologically relevant stuff to their characters. -Dovydas

IC: (Perkahn, Ta-Koro) "Lead the way, old man." Perkahn's face was contorted, at these words, by a smile that had equal parts of exertion and happiness. This was definitely his son. For just a second, his distant, distant memories beckoned him, demanding he give into them, listen to what they had to say, to remind him of a day in a past age, long, long ago. The wind was howling that day, as the two silent figures, father and son, slithered through the quiet of the Charred Forest, which then was not yet charred, but a green, lush jungle. Diarmuid led his young son, Perkahn, through the forest's pathways and through its clearings, until they finally saw their target. It was a Kane-Ra, enough to feed a family for a month and also enough to, when infected by Makuta, destroy a family within a day. Diarmuid turned to Perkahn and asked, quietly, "Are you ready, son?" "Lead the way, old man." If he wasn't sure there would still be a thousand opportunities, Perkahn would've shed a tear. But for now, they had more important things to attend. The house that Perkahn had built with his and Arianna's own hands such a long, long time ago still stood nigh unchanged, with a carefully tended, quaint garden planted in a small patch of green that they defiantly, with no small intervention from their and others' elemental powers had maintained in spite of the volcanic terrain, and a wooden porch not one bit larger than was necessary, a second wooden floor atop a stone ground floor, the building itself leaning against the Ta-Koro city wall. As Perkahn took one step after another - sanctified, slow steps to punctuate about every fourth beat of his heart - he felt the past breathe in him. But no longer did the past wound him. Now, the past gave him new life, a chance to live yet again. The door he opened, and found himself in a familiar, very familiar hallway. The walls were still decorated with shields. Tons of shields. Back in the day, Perkahn had a pathological obsession with collecting decorative shields bearing the crests of noble or powerful families - a very strange obsession, given the fact that he never used a shield to begin with. At the end of the short entrance hall, they reached a door, which they pushed aside, and found themselves in the common room - quite enough place there was for a feast, by a long table surrounded by benches, stretching nigh across all the hall to the fireplace at the other end. To the left, there was a stairway up, and to the right, there was a door to the house's kitchen; and on the bench sat a silent and beautiful as ever Arianna, her hand locked around her chin, a thoughtful expression etched upon her face. "Arianna," Perkahn spoke, in a low and somber voice, "We're home." She turned at his voice, not saying a word, and stood, quiet, but smiling. "You're back," she said, and Perkahn smiled back, and nodded. She took a step closer, a single tear of happiness in her eyes... and then she saw Jolek and froze, quite obviously unable to believe what she was seeing. "Jolek?" she finally asked, after staring at him for two seconds, tears welling up in her eyes. "Son?" Perkahn's smile widened at the expression of mixed shock and almost inane happiness that his wife was having. He didn't quite react with such surprise; possibly because he was going through the most confusing couple of weeks of his life and anything seemed like a rational event to happen when it did. Seeing Arianna as happy as often as possible, Perkahn, slowly, realized, that's what really matters.

IC: (Cylund, Le-Koro) Cylund didn't know if he was breathing. To be perfectly honest, he was pretty sure he was dead by some meaning of the term. His right hand he couldn't really feel, and he was pretty sure that might've just had something to do with the pile of assorted empty Rahkshi armor crushing it. His left-hand sword was broken, lying, to be perfectly exact, right atop his nose. At least, one of its shards was. His nose... his nose, aye, it felt different. His whole face did. Something was off. It was irrelevant, anyway. Back to the subject matter, Cylund felt different. He did not have many clear memories of the battle, just being surrounded by an entire squad of Rahkshi that quite enthusiastically took to using combinations of different powers on him, hoping for success. The Toa of Plasma fought on valiantly, but that's difficult when you're floating in midair, poisoned, and your left hand is slowly being disintegrated. And then they all suddenly turned on each other. Irrelevant, anyway. Cylund, lying under that pile of Rahkshi, was feeling... angry. For the first time in his life, he was feeling angry. Why didn't anyone help him? Why didn't anyone assist him when he needed help? Right now, his right arm remains bleeding, and he is given no help despite having fought on when all those cowards were pushed back! What is this treason? He deserved better! Better! The Toa of Plasma felt his anger fill him, reach to the furthest areas of his body, and he smiled, a dark, dark grin. He felt this anger envelop him in warmth, no, heat, no, power! His rage boiled within him, and he awoke. He rose, the Rahkshi's corpses pushed aside, no matter how many of them at once lied atop him. When he could not simply push through, he incinerated them with his plasma, and, when he was finally straight up, he took a look at the village they were rebuilding around him. Simple Matoran, simple fools! He'd show them yet. As Cylund stormed off and out of the village, an intrepid soul with a liking for engineering took to the pile of Rahkshi corpses that Cylund had just pushed off himself. He was quickly shocked to find a Kraata, presumably Stage 2 or 3, slithering around the armor pile. The aspiring engineer logically deduced that the Kraata must've lost its own suit of armor but survived, otherwise it would, naturally, still be a Rahkshi - right before stabbing said Kraata with a pocket knife. It let out a quiet squeal as it died.

Bright side is, this is finally over. -Dovydas

IC: (Vican) "Oh, no. No, no, that shark head is perfectly normal, I can assure you."

No. Not the only one.