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About Perp

  • Birthday 02/09/1996

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    buying bread from a man in brussels
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    men 6'4" and full of muscles

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Descending into Protodermis

Descending into Protodermis (127/293)

  1. IC: Baszlin - Iron Mahi If the sudden cascading peal of shattering glass failed to faze the Skakdi, as harsh and violent the sound may have been, it would come as no surprise that the resulting razor shards vaulting through the air to pelt his spine and shoulders with pinprick cuts suffered the same fate. In fact, Baszlin remained stock-still after delivering his lamentations to the assembled passengers, still staring into their eyes long after they had turned their attention elsewhere - to the cause of this sudden intrusion. Plainly visible to him, some recoiled at the threats verbally leveled at them - invisible daggers of terror thrown wildly and minuscule particles of spittle (also impacting Baszlin’s turned back) sharing a common origin. He - and therefore the plight of his patron beneath him - was no longer central to the attention of their small audience. This would not do. The air was still for a few beats. Some passengers shrieked, others stayed silent. Hands began to move, but Raaka Baszlin did not see where their motion ended. Still knelt down at Surdo’s side, it took only a fraction of a second to refocus the grief and rage displayed earlier upon a new, sole subject. In that same time, his torso and neck twisted so that he could look upon his new quarry, an outstretched arm and accusing finger added to his arsenal and pointed squarely at the– “Interloper!” he cried, the indignity in his voice palpable. “A crisis weighs upon us! ‘Tis a weight hardly borne by those whose spines doth already buckle ‘neath burden of evil doings! No further can one bend! No further! See you not the cataclysm on the cusp - that of poor Surdo, whose life leaks from a heart cleft by sinners of the same thread as thou! Thou, who beholdest the ailment of fair folk and seek chaos even so! Thine eyes betray thine cruelty! I spit upon your ilk! Vile mongrel! Cur!” A thick globule of mucus landed itself at Karmine’s feet a moment later.
  2. IC: Suzume - Sado Streets Beneath her robe, invisible to the others around her, she was clutching her shinobue. What was plainly visible, outside her robe, was her face - specifically the expression plastered on it, which was still a far cry from ‘reassured’. The one heading up the patrol - Toroshu Morie - shifted her attention from Suzume ever so slightly, though clear enough to the alert youth that she noticed. In response, the physical demeanor of the Menti under her command shifted a likewise subtle degree. Their changed posture, positioning and movement sparked a battle in her mind - the battle cry of one side bleating ‘Danger, retreat!’ and the other ‘Safety, surrender!’ She ignored both in equal measure, and gripped her instrument tighter. “What about my mom?” OOC: @Mel
  3. OOC: I’m not really a stickler when it comes to BZPTime but this conversation is probably happening a while before the shenanigans in the Koro tbh IC: Ember - The Fowadi Standing a little straighter and with her arms clasped neatly behind her back, the Ta-Matoran projected the obstinance of her age - old salt, barnacles and crust anchoring her to the deck. Or perhaps she just looked silly with her chest a fraction more puffed, compared to the enormity of the two considerable Toa before her. “Well could,” she started briskly, rocking on the balls of her feet ever so slightly. “But bein’ frank, Toa Rynekk, I knows the dockmaster ‘round these parts and it’d be bad fortune t’ lock horns with ‘er while she’s likely o’er-canvassed, savvy?” A mild jerk of her chin over her shoulder in the rough direction of the glittering mass of Dasakan vessels swamping Ga-Koro’s port. “‘Tis a gale I’d not weather. ‘Specially with as much cargo as we’ll be haulin’.” After a beat, the rigidity of her posture loosened, arms swinging forward to indicate the opposite direction - across the deck, past the gunwale, Forsi’s weather-beaten structures snaked up the cliff wall like petrified ivy, dark clouds hanging above the treetops at its apex, the shadowy streaks of rain already starting to obscure it all. “‘Sides!” barked Ember at long last, already beginning her precise mariner’s stride across the deck to a skiff dangling from its davit. Halfway there, she spun around and began walking backwards toward the smaller vessel, her eyes still on the two Toa and her arms splayed up and out. “Forsi’s naught but a few leagues away! An’ what better time to teach ye about fair-sailin’ in a tempest!” The barest hints of that ever-elusive grin would be visible for only a moment before she spun ’round again and climbed aboard the skiff. OOC: @Void Emissary @Krayzikk
  4. IC: Ember - The Fowadi She could feel the deck shuddering beneath her feet as the larger figure trundled up behind Rynekk - the same one she had met hours earlier before retiring to her cabin for the night, having stumbled upon the hulking figure grabbing some shuteye in the ship’s hold during a self-guided tour. They’d exchanged a few words, but nothing more than pleasantries. It was clear there was a lot more to the ship - in terms of both construction and crew - that she’d need to familiarize herself with. “Ah, Toa Brukin, nice t’ see ye up and about. Seemed ye were a hull apart from keelhaulin’ last I saw.” OOC: @Krayzikk @Void Emissary
  5. IC: Baszlin - Iron Mahi Scrutiny and curiosity struck the Skakdi in equal measure, causing his brow to furrow and his eyes to squint. Certainly something was going on here, but what? All eyes were on the two of them now, the car’s passengers, some with mouths agape, watching the two of them. You might think him uncomfortable to have so many eyes pointed in his direction, but curiously a strange comfort washed over the Skakdi instead - a feeling probably not shared by the Matoran writhing on the ground at his feet. Baszlin knelt. The plowed troughs dominating his forehead became distorted by the upward motion of an eyebrow; as did the lines at the corners of his mouth in a confused grimace, and the rest of the lines making up the scars on his face followed suit. That old, familiar rumble at the back of his throat emerged halfway when he spotted Surdo’s own eyes, not directed at him, but elsewhere within the cabin. Baszlin followed the gaze to its likely end - the Vortixx who he had confronted mere hours earlier; sharp dark lines of an onyx fa- Something snapped. Snapped? Maybe not the right word? Broke? No. Shifted? Maybe. Whatever it was, something changed, roiled and ballooned to the front of his conscious mind. It was almost audible - a muted peal of thunder that rang out from a distance… but this was not the storm visible out the car windows right now. It was something only he could see. The lines of his face smoothed again as his expression twisted into a visage of grief and rage, head shooting up to stare back into the eyes all upon them. “Are none among you able of spirit, of compassion!? Before me lay a man dying! Can there be no greater injustice than to let men perish through the inaction of the meek and weak-hearted!? Villains, all! Villains!”
  6. IC: Baszlin - Iron Mahi The Skakdi watched his charge with mild confusion as he rose from his seat and began toppling over, in the way a puppet does when its strings are cut. Questions wracked his brain, though any answers failed to appear. Practiced? Practiced what? I don’t remember practicing anything. Now everyone in the train car was staring at them, or rather staring at Surdo, writhing on the floor and clutching at his chest, as if some sort of ailment had crippled him. Bazslin tutted at the dithering, almost embarrassing quality of the performance, almost invisibly shaking his head in bemusement and befuddlement as the Matoran called out his name, clutching at the air as if he were in some low-budget Saturday-evening soap. “What are you doing? Stop that.”
  7. IC: Ember - The Fowadi CRAKKK! CRAKKK! Ember’s heart seemed to fall a good foot down through the bottom of her gut as she flinched in reaction to the piercing thunder of a firearm unloading rounds across the deck. If she were in worse shape, she’d have been doubled over as a tightness in her chest squeezed tighter from shock. That isn’t to say that her chest was not at all feeling that anxious pain - the annoyance of an unannounced discharge of arms was enough to at least spark a flame there, but it was the sight of who exactly was responsible for those shots and the raucous laughter thereafter that worsened the sensation. A deep scowl twisted her features into one of the more ugly visages one could find aboard the Fowadi. Ember’s fists balled, jaw clenched, lungs filled, and finally mouth opened to shout her impolite displeasure at the one-not-deserving-his-title, but the first syllable was cut short as the gargantuan shadow of a larger-than-life Toa - actually deserving of that title, mind you - veiled her from the midday sun. "You all set then, Ember? Noticed you head belowdecks before -- you get a grocery list from ol' Muuk?" She spun around to face Rynekk, struggling to untangle the lines which crossed her face. A look of slight annoyance was all she managed as she began to reply, eventually morphing into a more neutral expression upon the end of her sentence. “Ah, Toa Rynekk, there ye are! Aye, got meself the docket right ‘ere.” She patted the satchel on her hip. “Scannin’ for ye just now, was I. Got any other business or shan’t we head outboard, lad?” OOC: @Void Emissary @Krayzikk
  8. IC: Gorro - Onu-Koro, The Unfortunate Fikou A turbulent silence befell the three gathered beings for a mere moment, permeating their conscious minds as each comprehended their present circumstances in ways unique to each individual. Having no access to the light behind the eyes of Savis and Montague, Gorro solemnly enclosed himself within the prison of his own mind, walls of bone and protodermis enclosing the flesh and containing his very being. The sole portal to the world outside those curved walls, the eyes upon which the crags of stone floor were presently imaged, saw now with a new purpose. A glaze of equal parts determination, fear and longing cascaded over them, diffused through them, and infected- nay, galvanized the mind to which they interpreted existence. And so, that determination formed a new foundation upon which the young Toa began to build. “So,” he began at last, his voice croaking from a throat dry with anticipation, “when do we depart?” OOC: @Goose @Nato G
  9. IC: Baszlin - Iron Mahi “Start what?”
  10. IC: Baszlin - Iron Mahi Far to the south, the starchy blue sky was bisected by a wall of gray - storm cells that mushroomed up into a high shelf, the complex structure within fleetingly marked by flashes of lightning. It was storming in Forsi right now. Their destination, shrouded in a curtain of rain, hours away. He could pretend that the rumbling of the train’s motion was the peal of distant thunder if he let his mind wander, though such a feat was made difficult by certain… environmental distractions. Even here, in the relatively-sealed railcar, the dry heat soiled all novelty of traveling over the desert at blinding speed and disturbed his fantastical rain-soaked daydreaming. All that remained were the basest desires to be in the midst of that faraway maelstrom, to close his eyes and open his mouth, hands raised above his head and bask in the chill of the downpour. He loathed this desert. It was that loathing that persisted in his memory, even if the events that had perhaps transpired here were missing. This place was the worst. “Yes, of course,” he replied to the Matoran seated next to him. His voice was coarse and he sounded on the verge of whining. “Been all over this island. The Ko-Wahi Drifts. The Motara. All the Koro. Seprilli. That godforsaken swamp in the south.” Actually, yeah, scratch that. The Fau Swamp- wait no, scratch that. Let’s just lump all of Le-Wahi in the “absolute trash” category, shall we? He’d take Po-Wahi’s dry heat over the jungle humidity. He felt dirty after just a half-day walking from Ta-Koro to Le. rumble rumble Ah, that sound again. Wasn’t the train, nor the thunder. That was his stomach. His throat suddenly felt drier, too. He tore his gaze away from the distant rainfall, probably wasn’t helping any. He fiddled with the canvas bag containing his shotgun within, trying to distract himself, pulling at a loose thread. “Mmh. They got any sort of food service on this thing? I’m starving.”
  11. IC: Suzume - Sado Streets More fear, more confusion. Another step backwards. Under siege? What does that even mean? A thousand other questions blinked into existence, overworking the already-taxed cogwheels of her mind. “Um, no. I haven’t- I mean yes, um, that’s… correct?” OOC: @Mel
  12. IC: Verakastian - Fortress Khy;Barr "Whit d'ye mean fetch, lad? A'm right 'ere!" He wished he wasn’t.
  13. IC: Suzume - Sado Streets Ever since her subconscious mind had picked up the peculiarities that had magnified over the past few weeks and culminated with her epiphany in the streets moments ago, Suzume had been swept around in a cycle of fear and confusion. Now was no exception, the realization that she stood alone on one street corner, with a gaggle of Menti opposite her on the other. It was the conception of, through their separation, that she was alone and that street was otherwise empty, that stuck the biggest chord. A primal part of her brain cried ‘danger!’ “I- I… uh…” she stammered, taking a step back, cycling though fear and confusion yet again. “I went to go get breakfast and… um… there was nobody around, maybe it was too early in the morning or a holiday or… or something like that.” OOC: @Mel
  14. It's not about the size of your Disk - it's how you use it. Folks, it's that time again where we whip out the Native Tech 3D renders, and once more we're serving up diskettes - pistol(?) edition. Hope you like toggles! The Diskette Pistol Three Quarters Profile Front Top Toggles Open Close-Up Aiming The "Hans Olo" Three Quarters Profile Front The "Wauser" Three Quarters Profile Front Bottom The Artillery Three Quarters Profile Front Aiming Once again, thanks to @Geardirector for coming up with the darn thing in the first place.
  15. IC: Gorro - Onu-Koro, The Unfortunate Fikou Deathly still, remained the youthful Toa of Crystal, his face a pallid bust of contorted lines arranged into a visage of pure terror. Truly the trembling affliction which had so plagued him previously was progressed to such a gross degree that it was replaced entirely with the morbid placidity of a corpse. His wide-eyed glare bore into the stone flooring and watched the mild patterns shift and twist in the motion of waves stretched across the surface of seas. When he finally found his voice, it was but a whisper: “I have seen it...” The other two beings swiveled their heads to look upon Gorro, though he did not meet their gaze. “I h-have seen that… monolith… in my dreams. Dark and towering and awesome and terrible! I could- I could not look at it for long before it started to- to speak to me… to whisper in my mind…” Clapping his hands up to his temples, the iridescence of his slender digits paled as if they were mere bones, he snapped his eyes shut. The world was beset by darkness, though the watery patterns remained visible on the back of his eyelids. His hands squeezed vice-like upon his head, as if to dispel the entoptic illusions by pressure alone. “Must we t-travel there…?” he murmured.
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