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Year 16


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 (128/293)

  1. IC: Suzume - Sado, The Yards Detail flooded ever faster into the world around her – the figures before her were no longer blurred shapes, the subtle lines of their faces discernible. To Suzume, it was almost as if she were waking up into a dream, rather than out of one. What little she remembered of her previous waking moments in the street felt equally surreal and fragmented. Had those events really happened, or were they imagined? It was hard to tell at the moment. Beneath the turbulent glow of the world clarifying around her, Suzume could feel that it was all painfully real. Something bad had happened, and it wasn’t a dream she could be rid of by simply waking up. The words spoken to her by the remaining figure in the room registered, but were not fully grasped. Unconsciously, she patted her hands around her person, searching for something that wasn’t there. “My shinobue,” she muttered, cotton-mouthed. “My flute. I need my flute…” Through the stupor, something sparked the faintest echo of a memory in her mind. At once, Suzume realized what had triggered it – the faint smell in the background. Salt and brine, unmistakable. The kind of scent that permeated everywhere when you were in proximity to the ocean shore, near piers or dockyards or other structures that stretched out into the waters, foaming and churning. Hadn’t she been somewhere like this before…? OOC: @Mel
  2. IC: Shavrakk - The Rift For a brief moment, Shavrakk wondered if he had blown it - an instant of nervous fear down his spine as the Lesterin’s tone changed. He really should’ve expected some pushback, considering his appraisal of the other fellow’s motivation for taking a detour through the rift. There was a common thread among the grand majority of Lesterin on the mainland. What greater motivator to run far, far away, and keep running, than that? But he didn’t stop walking. He was still following the Skakdi out of the Rift. The moment of fear had passed, and a quick calculus followed. It was unwise to assume continued compliance. The chance that the Lesterin could simply shake him the moment they passed out of the Rift was suddenly much greater. To refuse the outstretched arm of someone untrustworthy when you were drowning was stubborn, foolish insistence on suicide. This stranger was clearly neither. The situation was still a volatile one, and wouldn’t guarantee success, but there was only one thing Shavrakk could do, and one place they could go, unaccosted. Both his hands shot up, palms out towards the other in the universal “calm down” gesture. “Hey – relax. There’s a hostel on the outskirts I’ve visited from time to time. The owner will look the other way, for a price.” Walking backward was making him uncomfortable. He wasn’t keen on keeping his eyes in one direction for long. He slowed his pace as to walk astride the Lesterin, giving the path ahead a cursory scan, ensuring his newfound travelling companion never left his peripheral vision. OOC: @oncertainty
  3. IC: Jokaro - Po-Koro Engineering Department The Po-Matoran nodded as Lenat spoke, absorbing the information laid out for him. “Hmm. I see. Well, I think that this–” he tapped the blueprint on Lenat’s desk again, “–is something the Onu-Koronans would definitely be eager to get their hands on, should it ever be completed. Legally or otherwise. But with this initiative in place, it’s perfect for looping them in. With their industrial base, they’ll be primed for the manufacture of any complex parts… or perhaps even producing finalized parts in numbers, should the opportunity arise.” A critical junction had been reached. Again, Jokaro looked into the Vortixx’ eyes, glancing ever so briefly at the mug perched atop Lenat’s desk as he turned to finally sit in one of the seats across from the Department Head. His next proposition might be a tricky one to propose – the scales were balanced precariously. He cleared his throat. “I think it’s fairly obvious that it can’t be constructed or tested either here or at the Emporium – or really anywhere near a population center. Safety and security concerns, you know how it goes. That would necessitate the implementation of facilities in a remote location. Deep in the Motara would be obvious. It’d require a new station off the Po-Koro-Ostia rail line, too. That’s a whole project in and of itself. Can you swing that? I can forward a brief to the attaché at the Emporium, send him back to Nuparu. If you can get Renaka to talk to him, it might ease the pressure on the Engineering Department. It’d depend on how much Onu-Koro is willing to contribute.” OOC: @Silvan Haven
  4. IC: Jokaro - Po-Koro Engineering Department “Oh yes, I agree completely,” replied the Po-Matoran, retracting his hands as Lenat took the pages into his own, poring over the contents intensely. “These aren’t even my designs; these prints are exactly what the Commander supplied us with. I can think of several glaring issues without even doing the math. Speaking of…” Delving into his pack once again, Jokaro withdrew his notebook. He had to thumb through a considerable number of pages until he found one that was blank. “Cost is always of utmost concern on projects of this scale,” he sighed, diverting his attention as he began scribbling a few figures in the notebook. “The good Commander did say that he would return soon, and I could direct him to you to make the proper arrangements for funding. I don’t expect him to be able to fund the whole project, but I barely know anything about the man, to be honest. He mentioned having resources at his disposal.” Frown lines creased the Po-Matoran’s brow, coinciding with some rather intense scribbling on the notebook page. “No, no, that wouldn’t do…” he muttered to himself before continuing his previous thought. “And, well, no offense to the Commander, but costs aside… the mechanical, chemical, and metallurgical effects don’t scale proportionally, either. Farzan and I would have to do a lot of legwork with the research and development on that front.” At last, he seemed pleased with his scrawlings, and turned the notebook towards the Vortixx opposite. On it were a dozen different calculations, some scratched out, others circled. “If we’re to design a working prototype, scaling it down roughly ninety to eighty percent would certainly save on material resources, and the values required would remain within the realm of feasibility once scaled back up – if the sun hasn’t baked my brain yet.” Unceremoniously, he dropped the notebook atop the sheaf of blueprints depicting the Conceptual Nightmare. He leant in, tapping the page with a finger, once again looking into Lenat’s weary eyes. “This need not represent the extent of our capabilities, however. There is another avenue to consider. An attaché from Onu-Koro stopped by the shop yesterday. He spoke about a technology-sharing initiative between our two Koro. Sound familiar to you?” OOC: @Silvan Haven
  5. IC: Jokaro - Po-Koro Engineering Department This was… not the Lenat he had first met roughly a year ago. It was almost sad to see him in this state, chained by duty to a desk. Bureaucracy really didn’t suit him. Depending on what exactly weighed the most on his mind in recent days, the blueprints that Jokaro had brought him today would either restore some life within the Vortixx, or crush his soul completely. No use in delaying any further. He crept forward, approaching the wide desk with trepidation. “Well, yes, uh… I do have something here for you. See, we were approached yesterday by one, uh, Captain Dehkaz? Commander Dehkaz? At the Emporium. He had a… request.” For the first time since yesterday, almost as if prolonged exposure to them was inadvisable, Jokaro withdrew the documents from his backpack, unfolding them with exaggerated care as he spoke. “Now, I understand why he came to us specifically, and not you – you’ll see why soon enough – but… I told him, straight up, there was no way Farzan and I could possibly build it. At least, not at the Emporium, and not alone.” He set the pages down in front of Lenat, smoothing them against the desk, hands pinning the far edges in place. Only a moment’s worth of admiration was spent on perusing the specifications again; he broke away, staring expectantly at the fellow engineer opposite him, watching his eyes for the tell-tale reaction. “You realize what that is?” OOC: @Silvan Haven
  6. IC: Jokaro - Po-Koro Engineering Department Were he a petty man, Jokaro wouldn’t have hurried into Lenat’s office. He would’ve taken his time, dallied, wasting minute after minute just to let the old Vortixx stew, give him just a minuscule taste of the relative eternity he’d been held up for. But Jokaro wasn’t that kinda guy. Irritable as he was at that moment, waiting any longer would’ve been more self-imposed torture than any kind of inconvenience on another. Presently, he almost jogged down the corridor to where Lenat’s office was situated, and nearly fell through the door. The first thing he noticed was that the temperature was a few degrees cooler within the office. Air conditioning? Of course there was. Renaka poured more widgets into this place than any other Department, which the whole Koro was becoming increasingly reliant upon. There was scarcely a construction project, business venture, agricultural initiative or any other number of figurative pies the DREAD had ties to, subsidized, and dipped their fingers into. DREAD was everywhere in Po-Wahi, their reach extending as far as the new railways would take them. Of course they’d set aside a fraction of those widgets for just a little more comfort. Were he a petty man, and a real self-righteous hypocrite, he would’ve made a snide remark about the privileged position that allowed Lenat those comforts. But, of course, Jokaro wasn’t that man. He would’ve done exactly the same thing. And? And, he was gonna need those same widgets. A lot of them. Enough to make that A/C system’s budget look like a popsicle-stick bridge project for schoolchildren; he was going to have to be a little diplomatic. If all went well, by the end of today, the aforementioned far-reaching influence of the Engineering Department, and Po-Koro as a whole, would be marginally longer, but that promise alone was no easy guarantee. Yes, diplomacy, showmanship, good business sense… a whole secondary set of skills the Po-Matoran would have to tap into to accomplish his mission today. “Lenat! Long time no see!” All the same, he could not help but inject a little professional sarcasm into the air between the two engineers, right off the bat. It was bordering on three hours, cut the guy some slack. The snark was well deserved. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of looking Lenat directly in the eyes before committing. “Uh… busy morning?” He wondered if the Vortixx knew exactly how bloodshot they were. His mildly-accusatory query came out a lot more genuine than intended. OOC: @Silvan Haven
  7. IC: Baszlin - Iron Mahi Where were we, where were we…? Deigning not to sit, the Skakdi stood in the aisle, leaning against the side of the seat across from the Lesterin, crossing his arms. “Ah! Right, yes. See, you’ve got it backwards. He’s doing me the favor in exchange for protection of his person. It’s a noble and just duty that I’ve been charged with.” Grunts of pain and displeasure, mingled with verbal threats and warnings of impending violence emanated from the direction of the engine car, forceful enough to be heard over the howl of rushing wind. The shattered window, as well as the open connector doors, made their current leg of the journey fairly breezy. "Baz, that crazy Toa's trying to kill people." “Hmm. Well, worry not. His manners may be quite rancid, yes, but be assured – I will politely convince him to leave if he misbehaves.” OOC: @Krayzikk
  8. IC: Shavrakk - The Rift Slowly, deliberately, Shavrakk settled the revolver back into its holster. Notably, however, his hand did not leave the grip afterwards. He had plenty of confidence in his quick-draw, for sure – but you took whatever insurance you could in an uncertain situation. With his other hand, in a much less threatening manner, waved casually for the Lesterin to follow. He took his first few steps backwards, not wanting to take his eyes off the other figure. “If camp is not suitable after we make our ascent, then we will trek to Irnakk’s Tooth.” No matter what circumstances presented themselves, Shavrakk would determine that camping for the evening was not going to happen. Camping implied rest, and neither of them were going to get any, suspicious of each other as they were. Both would pretend to sleep, and neither would actually do so. It would be fruitless. In the Tooth, still hours away by foot, at the very least they could find lodging, and were marginally less likely to end up having their throat slit in the early hours of the morning. Either way, there would have to be a lot of questions asked and answered before either of them got any shut-eye. OOC: @oncertainty
  9. IC: Suzume - Sado, The Yards Bundled in a nest the slumbering sparrow wakes she will sing no song Perception returned slowly, and in chunks. Sound was the first to begin rousing her, in bursts of intensity; the bark of orders issued, yelping of the injured as they were attended to, the omnipresent warbling drone of hushed conversations. All of it seemed a dull roar to the waking Daikura Suzume, who was used to solace and quiet. Her eyes fluttered open, and the world was a monochrome blur – colour lagged behind, gradually seeping back into the little she could see. Awareness was even more gradual, the thick fog within her head slow to dissipate. Suzume remained groggy and disoriented. She could feel her tongue now, dry, thick, and heavy. A faint metallic taste; blood, or maybe bile. Her limbs ached, and every inch of her body was cold and on the verge of shivering, despite the warmth of the air. Everything in her vision was dim, but she could just about make out two or maybe three person-shaped blurs before her. It was wrong, something was very wrong. A snap realization sheared through her fugue, as her other senses began functioning again. Little details like the texture of the fabric beneath her fingertips, the scent of a place foreign to her, non-recognition of whatever voices she could pick out – it all painted the suddenly clear picture that Suzume was not where she was supposed to be, if wherever that was was a place she felt safe. This environment was alien. Panic and fear threatened to overwhelm her again, had confusion not been the sensation that had taken root immediately and grown. Pushing against the futon that was not hers, Suzume struggled against her sore muscles to right herself into a sitting position. She immediately regretted it once she succeeded – a new wave of light-headedness almost toppled her again, and she noticed the figures before her stir. “Where…” she rasped, and swallowed. No improvement. “...Where am I?” OOC: @Mel
  10. IC: Baszlin - Iron Mahi “Mmmm, not really. I’m doing it for a favor. The company’s been appreciated, though. That, and a couple of decent meals for once. Not so bad when you don’t have rabid junki-” At once, the metallic screeching emanating from the aft end of the train began to intensify, sending shudders down the line of cars. It was a struggle to hear Surdo over the din. Baszlin’s head swiveled in the Matoran’s direction, but it made little difference. He simply saw Surdo’s hands clamped over his ears, mouth moving. “What’s that?!” he shouted over the noise. “Want me to tell them to quiet it down?” He spun around without waiting for a reply, heading towards his charge. However, he passed him by, sticking his head through the open doorway of the engine car where there was a ruckus between a Toa and the psycho from earlier. They’d gotten into some sort of fracas, and it was clearly disturbing the peace. The compartment emanated with the sounds of sizzling flesh and electrical discharge. People were floating around and zapping each other with electricity. Total chaos. It was up to Baszlin to sort it out. Player 2 has entered the game. “Hey! Could you keep it down?! We can’t hear ourselves think! Thank you.” His deed done, Baszlin turned back towards the passenger car. Player 2 has left the game. “Now, where were we…?” he muttered as he approached the Lesterin once again. OOC: @Morgan Yu @Krayzikk @Tarn
  11. IC: Baszlin - Iron Mahi “Sure. Name’s Baszlin,” the Skakdi remarked casually over the sound of gunfire and shearing metal. He jerked his chin in Surdo’s direction. “Currently in the employ of that fellow over there, as a bodyguard. Is this a formal interview?” OOC: @Krayzikk @Tarn
  12. IC: Baszlin - Iron Mahi The horrendous metallic screeching, followed momentarily by tinny thumping that slowly wound its way overhead… well, Baszlin didn’t have to be a sonics elemental to tell that the Vortixx Problem was still indeed just that. For now, there was nothing to do about it. The mind of a substance abuser was one whose logic was nigh impossible to fathom, beset by monomania and compulsion. He shrugged. Cross that bridge when they came to it. Besides, the inanimate cardboard had now learned to speak. Bizarre! He whipped around to locate the source of the new voice, scanning for a brief second before resolving the Lesterin in question - and it was indeed a real person now, not some lame facsimile. Her arms, trembling, in the air… A wave of familiarity washed over Baszlin. It wasn’t quite a memory, but he could smell it – the must of sweat, the iron stench of blood so thick you could taste it on your tongue without opening your mouth… He stared at those wrists, raised heavenward. It was like a snapshot out of a history book, something ancient that dredged up the sense of something base and primordial, but for one missing component. Manacles, metal bindings – those were missing from the wrists, accompanied by the reverberating metallic crinkle that could be produced by nothing else but a long length of chain, stretched taut. It was so clear in his mind, the iconography of suffering… and then it was gone. “Hmmm…” All that remained of that image was the pair of trembling arms belonging to the figure before him, terrified and exceedingly real. “Hm? Oh, yes, of course,” he said at last, voice low and soft. He gingerly took one of the arms in his hands, lowering it himself ever so gently. “You’ll get a cramp if you keep them up like that. Very bad on the shoulders.”
  13. IC: Shavrakk - The Rift It wasn’t wise to put blind faith in the certainty of one’s observations in the place that routinely deceived them – making a decision informed by perceived but ultimately illusory stimuli was the leading cause of death in the Rift. Stories of soured water or soiled provisions were commonplace, and countless deaths could be attributed to starvation or dehydration. Perhaps that was the fate of the Lesterin’s own ration of water, though it made little difference. It was the mind that was affected, not the object. At least, that was Shavrakk’s understanding of the way in which the Rift accrued its victims. There was little empirical that could be said about the Rift, and few with the wherewithal to test hypotheses. Despite these caveats, the Skakdi could not help but to trust those senses in the present moment, and thereby his intuition. There was a tangible change in the tension between the two standing figures, like a knot in a rope tethering them to each other had just come undone. It wasn’t so much the Lesterin’s body language that had betrayed him, but it certainly helped cement Shavrakk’s appraisal. Something familiar in his voice… the way he carried his words. There was an anxious energy to them that perhaps hadn’t been there before, or perhaps that he hadn’t noticed until now. When that knot came undone, Shavrakk could see, quite clearly, that the Lesterin was very, very nervous; who wouldn’t be, in an environment such as this? It was rational, natural. But what had pushed him to come here in the first place? That was the Skakdi’s appraisal, the true source of the Lesterin’s anxiety. It was the urge to run very far away, and keep running, no matter where you ended up. The pieces started to fit together. His certainty grew even further - the Lesterin was not the predator that Shavrakk had guessed he might be, initially. He was prey, and that was just as dangerous. Desperation was not conducive to mutual trust. The revolver felt much heavier in his hand now. “No,” he said at last, “but I know the way out. We’ll take it from there.” OOC: @oncertainty
  14. IC: Suzume - Sado Streets Alive, or dead? Alive, or dead? Alive, or dead? In great, audible heaves, Suzume breathed in and out. Her chest felt over-pressured, on the verge of bursting. Her heart pounded in her ears. The stars were out and flitted this way and that, though it was daytime. Toroshu Morie and the band of Menti accompanying her were scarcely present – the words were very far away. Everything was far away. Colourless. She opened her mouth. Her throat was stuffed with cotton. “I’m-” The world faded from view, and a moment later she was on the ground, crumpled in a pile of gangly limbs and cloth. She slept dreamlessly.
  15. IC: Shavrakk - The Rift “Three days is my personal limit. Any longer and you put yourself at a great deal more risk than an unquenchable thirst.” A momentary sideways glance tracked along the trail of viscera leading towards the cave entrance. The speed at which he returned his attention to the Lesterin before him blurred the black opening with the sharp outcroppings around it, leaving the uncanny image of a toothed maw in his mind - even more vivid a conception than when he was staring directly into its depths earlier. It was a bad omen. If the Lesterin had indeed traversed the Rift for three days, he might have already done Shavrakk’s job for him, provided he was coherent and willing under interrogation. Water was a small price to pay. Such are the benefits of outsourcing. Additionally, it would go a ways toward softening the blow when he eventually got stiffed on payment later. Unless the Lesterin could tell him something extraordinary. Something that couldn’t simply be dismissed or ignored out of hand. “We should leave here–” he continued, jerking his chin over his shoulder in the direction he’d come, “–and have a proper conversation where our senses are not under siege.” OOC: @oncertainty
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