Nuju Metru

Here's a new present. Love, your friendly staffers. <3

IC: The sound of insects was no foreign noise to the dense expanses of Mata Nui's jungles; it was quite the opposite. The buzz of bugs pervaded everywhere, from within the thick soil itself to above the towering canopies of the Swamp Trees. The drone of the insect population was part of the background noise of Le-Wahi, as unremarkable and constant to its inhabitants as the air they breathed. One more or less subtle buzzing, deep in the forest, went unnoticed. Beside a stagnant pool of marshy water, crouched behind a thin lattice of cattails, Zaktan stayed as still as was possible for him. The Protodites that composed his body subtly shifted as always, cyclically melting and righting themselves, but aside from these constant flickers, the serpentine Skakdi did not move. His glowing red eyes stared with great patience at the pool before him, watching for the tell-tale flicker of movement. It came; a small dark insect, with a shell that reflected light like spilled oil, alighted on the algal growth atop the pool, barely rippling the surface. Miniscule hairs on its feet, which trapped air bubbles, let the water-skeeter bug traipse across the liquid surface with impunity. But, as Zaktan had hoped, the bug didn't zip off at once; its antennae twitched, and the predatory insect realigned itself on the pool, walked on water to its far edge, and then took off up into the air to soar around a tree. Zaktan sent a few Protodites to trail the little creature, extending his finest senses after it. After a few seconds' flight, the bug led him to exactly what he'd been looking for: a wealth of tiny, translucent eggs, the unborn spawn of a certain kind of elusive beetle, nestled in a hollow at the base of a neighboring tree. The water-skeeter rubbed its forelegs together in anticipation of an overlarge lunch... and that was the last thing it did. With terrible velocity, a fist-sized cloud of Protodites engulfed the helpless water-skeeter and pulled it back through the air to meet its end under the waiting flat of Zaktan's scissor. Zaktan twitched his blade, sending the crushed carapace of the water-skeeter into the pool - where it landed with a ploop and sank - then stood up and took a few steps through the undergrowth to reach the place where the beetle eggs awaited his influence. He crouched again beside the eggs, and painstakingly tipped a small vial over them, careful to only use a few wispy drops of the dark fluid therein. The Antidermis hissed and frothed when it struck the eggs. The process of a few hours occurred over the course of a few seconds before Zaktan's eyes; the eggs enlarged as the larvae inside grew with grotesque speed, and then hatched, loosing large, ugly black beetles into the world. The armored shells on their backs opened, revealing transparent, veined wings beneath; in turn, each new Entropy Beetle rose into the air with a harsh buzz. A noise quite unlike the beetles' buzzing - the snap of a twig - caught Zaktan's attention at once. Without taking any steps, he dissolved and warped in a full semi-circle to face the sound; but he saw nothing. Another sharp pop of cellulose, this time a broken leaf, made Zaktan very much aware that he was not alone. There were no Rahi or other large beings in his sight; that meant it could be an invisible assailant. Zaktan's suspicions were confirmed when he noticed a shadow move through the dappled spots of green light that littered the ground. He was being spied on by a Toa with a Kanohi Huna. Zaktan swiped his scissor laterally before himself, and watched and heard the Huna-bearer take a step back to avoid the scything blades. Something sharp and unseen returned the favor, drawing a hot, shallow line across the Skakdi's forehead. With a snarl, Zaktan ducked and felt the air of another blade swoosh above him. The vial of Antidermis, mostly full, was still in his hand; Zaktan splashed its contents in the direction of the Toa's shadow, and got lucky. As the Antidermis alighted on the Toa, his concentration over his mask power evaporated, leaving him visible as he fell to the ground. A purple and black Toa writhed before Zaktan as the Antidermis began to do its work on him. Zaktan didn't bother waiting to see what effect the liquid darkness would have on the Toa. He had better things to do. By the time the sun set, the Entropy Beetles' numbers had increased tenfold. And they kept breeding. The next day, the Swamp Tree closest to their nativity collapsed. It'd been eaten from the inside out. And the beetles kept breeding. OOC: Keeper of Kraata, you can now have Skorm undergo the Antidermis changes we talked about. For the rest of you in Le-Wahi, there's a new crisis on your hands: Entropy Beetles. They eat trees. What is Le-Koro made out of? What does the Village of Air stand on? You do the math. Find a way to stop them, and quickly!

This is correct.

I'm totes late to this party... But that's only because I hyped so hard that I woke up the next morning with a headache. As someone who oftentimes has to fight off the good ol' BIONICLE canon with a stick, while simultaneously stealing its treasures (RPG host is a heckuva job), I'm definitely interested to see what angle they take on the toy line's plot. I predict a reboot.

1. None of us are "professionals," and there's no shame in a short post (oftentimes, shorter is sweeter!). We all play on the same field, here, so feel free to start anywhere! Ko-Koro is jumpin' right now - there's a battle on! - and Ta-Koro is usually a pretty good place to find interaction. 2. You're allowed to employ NPC (non-player characters) including Rahi and Rahkshi in your posts (this is usually done to give your real characters some kind of obstacle), but you can't really directly play as them and say, attack someone else's characters. 3. Yeah, as long as they're not ridiculously large, wild or lethal; if you've got a specific Rahi in mind you can PM me to check if it'd be okay. 4. It's totally acceptable to play as a villain or mercenary; just remember that the actual Dark Hunters organization doesn't exist (as far as we know) in the BZPRPG. 5. That's allowed, yeah.

A moment of silence for Aurax, one of the noblest casualties of the dark reign of Overlord Nuju... Xemnas, I'm pretty sure I promised you a blimp this arc as recompense - and you never claimed it!

IC: Nihi had followed Ayiwah up onto the deck at the start of the attack, but the Commodore had been quickly lost in a swirl of activity, leaving Nihi to stand dumbly alone in the midst of the impending crisis. Shocked, uncertain of the best course of action, Nihi had been unable to do anything but watch as first one, then two, then five, then more tentacles, huge suckered whips thicker around than her waist, had exploded out of the water and quickly set about feeling blindly for Dasaka aboard, presumably to feed the creature they belonged to. Nihi was suddenly very much aware that she was unarmed; not that her staff would've done much good against the tentacles, but as a warrior she felt naked without it. A terrible noise from the foaming depths around the Ryuu made her feel even more vulnerable. Somewhere between a waterlogged foghorn and a beating bass drum, the bestial rumble, a prolonged and predatory growl, emanated loudly enough from the water that Nihi could actually feel its vibrations in her knees. Not even her Kanohi Rau could turn the tentacled beast's cry into comprehensible words; instead, Nihi felt the creature's instincts, full and primal, as loudly as though they'd been screamed in her ear. Anger. Hunger. Pain. Fear. Fear? Before she could contemplate that anomaly for too long, a lashing movement before Nihi's field of view caught her attention. One of the tentacles had crossed the deck and shoved a Saihoko sailor off her feet, sending her stumbling inexorably over the edge of the Ryuu's railing. The sailor fell for a half-second, a gut-wrenching half-second, before Nihi regained her senses and acted. Invisible hands caught the Saihoko mid-fall, and carried her back up to the deck, depositing her roughly but not unkindly back onto its surface. As Nihi exhaled in relief and dropped her hands - which tended to rise sometimes when she used her power without thinking, a habit from the Yards - the Saihoko turned and met her eyes. It was the same sailor that Nihi had shoved off the gangplank on the day of the departure, seemingly ages ago. Somehow, Nihi hadn't seen her over the course of the whole voyage thus far. The Saihoko recognized Nihi too, and nodded brusquely in her direction. Thanks, the nod said. But there wasn't time for Nihi to smile back; the tentacles continued to thrash about. The beast was not dispelled.

This battle for the fate of a location topic sure promises to be a contest, doe

IC: "If ya find him," I noted as Skee-bob-a-doodle made for the door, "Keep him away from here as long as you can... we wouldn't want him to walk in on the middle of preparation for his surprise party, now would we?" I gave her a sharp smile that didn't reach my eyes.

IC: "Broken window?" I asked innocently, then craned my neck around on the chaise-lounge to peer back around that way. My eyes alighted on the shattered glass and went all wide with surprise. "Ooch, yeah, you're right... not sure how that happened, but I'd guess it was some collateral from when those Piraka sorts were 'round recently. You've seen the Lavapool, yeah? Straight wrecked. There's been all kinds of minor damages all over the place, too. Feel free to take a walk and catalog 'em." Skyga rudely disregarded my invitation. Aight, that was her prerogative; just meant that it was time for me to up the ante. "Dunno when Dor'll be back," I yawned. "And until Neffie returns with my party supplies, there's not a lot to be done around here. Meantime you should go freshen up, or something; you look way tired, chick. Don't we wanna be pretty for prettyboy?" Calling gals "tired" was an age-old trick. Even if she didn't take my suggestion to heart, hearing that sorta thing riles a person, and working with riled is easier than working with cucumbery (er, cool).

IC: Can't say I hadn't seen that one coming. I ducked most of the cloud as it flew towards me, but couldn't move quick enough to avoid getting a big, fuzzy facefull of lint before the tumbleweed-esque formation of grime blew over me and out the window (I'm officially calling bullpucky on her 'whoops'). I straightened, coughing and sputtering a little, then scrunched up my eyes and rubbed the dirt off my face out the window with long swipes. When my visage returned to Skittle's view, it was clean, and the Grokk Grin was back in full force. "We-ell done," I cooed, examining the place. It shone like my teeth; there wasn't a speck of dust in sight. Even the tops of the books looked scrubbed. She'd had her fun, but she'd been thorough too; can't say I woulda done things any different. "Ve-ery nice handiwork, darlin'. You're a good neighbor, that's what you are." With new impunity, I slouched into a chaise-lounge (of course he had a chaise-lounge), picked up a nearby deck of cards, and started flicking the little bamboo box between my hands as I strategized about the best place to hide the confetti cannon. Chickadee'd finished dusting but she hadn't left. Guess some people don't know when they've overstayed their welcome at someone else's loft. I spared her a glance, but returned unconcernedly to the pack of cards. "...Why are you still here, Sky's-the-limit?"

OOC: Keeping Natharius occupied for you, Nato; don't worry about him on your vacay. IC: "Aw, come on!" I cajoled, elbowing the chick playfully. "Nobody don't like a good surprise party! Nefcanoe, we're gonna need party supplies. I'm talkin' dunce caps, noisemakers - clackety and trumpety kinds, we're pulling out all the stops - a cake, balloons, a confetti cannon--" "Confetti cannon?" "Patero with confetti cartridges," I amended, rolling my eyes exaggeratedly for Skeeta's benefit. I tossed him a draw-purse of widgets. "Go bonanza, spare no expense, leave no survivors. Get to it!" Nattie nodded, and after setting down his bottle he exited the place again on a mission. He looked about ready to execute a midair bell-kick as he skipped down the lane with my shopping list. I turned back to Skyrat. "Don't mind him," I told her confidentially, with a sly wink. "He's never done anything this exciting with his life before... so! Onto dusting. Big shocker - you may wanna be sitting down for this one - I'm good at getting in the way of things. What do I do to not get in the way?"

IC: Doing her best to swallow the bile that could rise at any moment, trying to shove aside the primal wrongness about the corpse, Nihi stepped closer to it and took in details as objectively as she could. She did her best to make her observations coldly, in a way as detached as if she was in a Tower of Knowledge doing research; she forced herself to take slow exhales, and to disregard the drowned carrion stench on her inhales. The body was the size of a Dashi. Long exposure to the corrosive salt of the sea had pitted its reddish armor, leaving holes through which the cavities in its chest, thighs, skull, could be easily peered into. The limbs, some of them reduced to darkened stumps by the erosion of Zataka's waters, were clothed in seaweed (there was nothing about the limp, glistening seaweed that resembled clothing, though; to Nihi, the strands seemed more like deadly tentacles, or snakes, strangling, crushing, seizing) and other oceanic detritus. With the clarity of a moment that would forever be slowed in her memory, Nihi even noticed a few bright-pink barnacles that had taken up residence on the marred side of the body's face, just next door to its empty eye socket and greened teeth. The corpse's innards had been long since reduced to mush, slimy and wet, that would probably splatter all over the floor when it spilled out of the dead thing at just the merest touch-- Nihi tried to stop herself, but it was too late. She grabbed at the nearest receptacle - a bucket intended to hold used bandages - and retched into it, her body wracked by its instinctive gag reflex. The bile was rancid and bitter; tears welled in Nihi's eyes. She felt a strong hand lay itself on her shoulder as her heaves persisted. Finally, after she spit the last of her stomach into the bucket, Nihi wiped her eyes and mouth and stood up again, and the Commodore removed her hand. "Thank you, ma'am," Nihi said thickly. Ayiwah only nodded in reply, reminding Nihi that her duty was not yet complete. With apprehension, Nihi returned her eyes to the corpse; luckily, she had nothing left to vomit, now, and it was easier for her to be critical. "There are no Dasaka trappings on the body," she went on, relaying her observations as they came. "That wouldn't mean too much if it wasn't for the armor, which I think looks more red than anything else; no Dasaka are red like this. The rough shape of the body is consistent with that of a Matoran. Knowing what I know, I would conclude that this had been a Matoran at one point. There's nothing to suggest otherwise."

IC: :On my way, ma'am,: Nihi replied at once. She hadn't been doing anything before the shouts began on-deck; curiosity had pulled her up there in time to see a gaggle of sailors, holding a body that their own forms obscured from Nihi's view, leave for below decks. After only moments leaned against the rail, soaking up the sun - which was a treat, after the first part of the sub's journey - the Commodore's order (phrased, as most of Ayiwah's orders were, as a request) had garnered Nihi's attention. Nihi pushed herself away from the rail and swiveled about, making her way down to the medical bay. By now, every chamber and corridor of the submarine had become familiar to her (painfully so; the Ryuu felt so much smaller these days), so she navigated her way through the hull to meet the commodore without trouble. She opened the door of the medbay, and upon seeing the mangled shell of a corpse that lay sprawled on a bed before her, felt very much like closing it again, running back to her bunk, and screaming into her pillow. She didn't. "You called, ma'am?" Nihi asked, doing her best to maintain at least a facade of professionalism - especially important in the Commodore's presence; Nihi was determined to earn Ayiwah's respect one way or another - above her roiling stomach.

IC: "I don't know what a 'Molly Maid' is," I countered, the famous grin still as fixed as all the bets I've ever bothered making (boom!). "So can't say fersher on that count... Listen, er, Skyro? Skyri? Skyr-" "Skyra." "Skyre," I inclined my head. "Madam... Miss... or whatever. Like my associate prolly informed you, Skeera, we could use a hand with some, ah, how'd you put it Neffie? Yeah, 'spring cleaning.' It's part of a surprise housewarming present for our dear Dor, who I'm to understand is a mutual friend of ours? Yeah? Wonderful. See, nobody likes to come home to all this dust, do they? Being so next-level considerate, I figured hey, let's do the dusting for him, yeah? But between you and me, gal, I'm also next-level lazy; there's a lot of surfaces, eensy weensy teensy ickle crevices that my fat fingers--" Here, I wiggled my piggies in front of her face like a penny magician that just made a widget appear from behind your ear; that's something I know how to do, by the way. I went on "--can't fit into. So I had the brilliant idea - I'm just full of those, Nat'll tell you - to find a nice Toa of Air like you, doll, who'd help speed along the process, use all them fancy gusty things to straight annihilate, obliterate, decapitate all these dust bunnies... If it helps you to think of them as bunnies, I don't judge. So, Skylala, whaddaya say?"

IC: ...was astonished by how flippin' fast that'd happened; for lo and behold, standing in the foyer were Neftoo and a little Toa chickadee whose coloration betrayed her as being of the air persuasion. To be frank (as I always am... can I help myself? What do you think!) I was both surprised and a tweensey bit disappointed... I'd been banking on having had at least enough time during Nephen's errand to arrange a little prank - I dunno, a confetti cannon or something - to throw at him upon his return. Alas, you can't always get whatcha want (but hey, confetti cannon, that's a good idea. And noisemakers. Ooh. Yeah. Noisemakers. I was already making a shopping list in my head, I'd have to send Neddie back out). The bigger part of me was stoked at the alacrity of my young grasshopper, though, of course: we were one step closer to throwing 'Dorable for a complete loop. I let my enthusedness show all over my face as I welcomed my latest accomplice. "Ho-owdy there!" I crowed jovially at the Toa of Air, swooping up and kissing her hand before she could spell "unexpected" (how long does it take you? I clocked in at seven seconds). I gave her my best smile and extended my bottle arm. "You wanna drink?"

IC: "Freezing him to the ceiling is too, yaknow, mundane," I dismissed. "Besides, 'round here, you use your powers on someone, next thing you know there's a gun to your head or a fireball scorching your caboose. Everyone takes those things so seriously, it's actually a shame; says a lot about the society of the 'peace-loving' Matoran, now doesn't it? Hey, don't gemme wrong, I'm not afraid of a scuff; quite the opposite, and don't test me. But if I'd wanted to fight Dor-Dor, I'd have already laid him out near the Lavapool with my killer left slap. I wanna prank him, that's why we're here. Anywho, point is, prank's gotta be non-combata...ata?...ative." I smiled to myself over the dumb word ("non-combative?" who knows how to pronounce that anyway) then stood up from the couch, setting my bottle down on the little table beside it. Doing my best to leave things in their proper places, I started peeking around the loft in more depth, looking for sources of inspiration. I kept addressing Ned as I sifted through the carefully sorted books and other articles around. "Don't get too hot on yourself yet, kid. I'm in accordance in that I think a surprisey-type prank is better, so yeah, let's do some dusting. Go outside and find me a Toa of Air." "Toa of Air?" "What, dya expect me to swipe all the dust off with my fingers? Toa of Air. C'mon, I'm on a schedule."

IC: "Know the enemy," I cackled. "Brilliant, Nerf, that's exactly what we need." Not bad, really. He got straight to business, and cleverly; I could appreciate that. Would I ever tell him so? Eh... nah. I sat up and swung my arm up over the backrest of my couch, then with my other hand - still strangling the neck of my bottle between its fingers - I gestured for Neh-ne-neh-ne-boo-boo to take a chair across from me, which he did; however, he brushed the dust off the seat before he took it. I cavalierly crossed my legs and sipped from my bottle, gesturing towards that act as we began to strategize. "First decision," I posed. "Do we dust the whole place, or leave the smudges of our imposition - yaknow, in layman's terms, our footprints, our hoo-marks on these chairs, etcetera - all over the dust coat? I see value in both options; if we dust the whole place, then we get the element of surprise, which is pretty crucial - see, through my next-level understanding of psycholosophy, I know that he won't think it's weird if there's no dust when he gets back, nobody thinks 'oh wow, back from prancing about all over the island, can't wait to get back to my now-dusty home!' - but dusting every nook, cranny and granny of this place would take work... On the other hand, leaving marks will make him aware that someone was all up in his stuff when he was gone, putting him automatically on edge as he comes through that door, which we can work with too--" "You still haven't told me how you know he's coming back," Neftie broke in. "Ri-ight," I grinned. "I haven't. Well Nefoleon, I just saw him on the street; he'll have to make a pit stop here eventually, and when he does, we'll be ready. So anyway, it's a question of whether we want to play with surprise or fear. Both are perfectly respected by the prankster's handbook." "...There's a handbook?" "Yeah, I wrote it myself. It goes a little something like this: 'Surprise and fear are both perfectly respectable ways to prank. The end.'" Another swig; it tickled my tongue. "Well," Nefoolius said, "If I knew the person we'll be pranking better, like I said, how they'd react--" "--You'd be better able to advise on our course of action," I finished knowledgeably. "Guess I'd better tell you a few things about our intended target; hooboy, he's a good one. We're currently in the Ta-Koro residence of the one-n'-only Dor-Dor Shaddick, pretty-boy extraordinaire, preeminent collector of neck-rags, my sometimes compatriot in questionable acts, and a crazy sunuvagun. He's got many vices - women, booze, gambling, substances, terrible puns, he got that one from me, and poor fashion sense - and thinks pretty highly of himself, when he ain't a goopey pile of slobbering emotional excesses. For our tremendous act I was thinking either we set him up against some kind of obstacle course, or do something to reduce him to the aforementioned goopey pile of slobbering emotional excesses... but I'm open to just about anything."

Attention! Attention! Evildoers, scourges of society, scumbags, villains, cheats, cultists, and motormouth merc types, this concerns you! Attention! Are you a baddie in the BZPRPG, hoping to enhance your power by joining up with the alliance between the Legacy (Echelon's nifty troupe of ne'er-do-wells) and the Piraka (the gang that is now very much, one might say, on the loose)? Are you hoping to get your hands on some of that sweet, sweet Vault loot? Well, this is the chapter of the BZPRPG for you, because all the baddies of the game are throwing a party, and you're invited! The alliance, [title of group], is using its loot to buy (and coerce) new cronies, and you could be one of them. In the post below, I'm gonna present an inventory of what exactly was in the Vault, describe the procedure of how you can get some, and outline how the loot can/can’t be used once you have it. This post is an official reference, so don't worry, I'll put links to it in important places (Profiles Topic, Starter Topic) so you'll be able to find it again. Without further ado, let's get to it! ~DA LOOT~ There were three main kinds of loot discovered in the Vault: Masks, Technology, and Antidermis. I’ll catalog the specifics of each category below. Masks Here's a list of the Kanohi that the Piraka discovered in the Vault. When one is traded to a character, I'll put that character's name beside it. Komau (Echelon)Jutlin (Derlath)JutlinShelekShelekCrast (Eisen)Crast (Lunefeld)Elda (Sylus)Rode (Iiasmir)Mask of Possibilities (Joske)Mask of Emulation (Rekhan)Mask of Scavenging (Kriigata)Technology The Vault holds a mountain of advanced technological junk. The contents of the pile were intentionally unspecified IC so that new, extra pieces of foreign tech of any/every sort could come out of it. This is like a big junk-pile genie: if you want something, just wish for it, and we can feasibly say that it's either already in the pile or can be hobbled together out of the miscellaneous parts therein by the resident tech guru, Avak. Antidermis What exactly is Antidermis? Well, as you may or may not already be aware, Antidermis in the BZPRPG is a creation of Makuta’s, rather than his intrinsic stuff (does the god of darkness have an intrinsic stuff? I don’t think so). In our game, Antidermis is “fluid destruction,” a pseudo-intelligent substance that, when it comes into contact with sentience, will pursue the most economical way to cause more destruction in the world. What does that mean? I said something to this end in the Chapter III intro (which can be found in the first post of this topic), but it means that Antidermis eats away good guys (who are unlikely to bring about more destruction), while it gives bad guys (potential instruments for lots and lots of destruction) enhanced abilities that will make them better, faster, stronger. When Antidemis comes into contact with a morally neutral or dependent sentience – a prime example of this being the Abettor, and other examples including Rahkshi and some Rahi – it will corrupt that neutrality towards evil purposes. What are the ways that Antidermis enhances its baddies? Well, results may vary. Several variant effects of Antidermis already around IC include Echelon’s Dark Magnetism, Kohra’s feather claw, and Zaktan’s Protoditic structure (this extreme alteration being the result of what should have been a lethal dose; don’t try it at home). Antidermis affects all conscious beings differently. The way Antidermis augments the powers of evil beings, as such, depends on the size of the dose as well as the wickedness and personality of the individual. A whole vat of Antidermis sits in the vault. For our purposes, the vat is basically bottomless, seeing as Zaktan only gives out Antidermis in small vials. ~DA DISPERSION~ Characters joining up with [title of group] are allowed to have ONE (1) piece of loot, meaning a mask or a piece of technology or a vial of Antidermis. Loot, once gained, must be immediately added to the recipient character’s profile. The way to get a piece of loot is pretty simple. The first step is PMing a Piraka player asking for something. Do you have your eyes on a particular mask from the list above? Have a piece of tech you’ve been itching to acquire? Let a Piraka player know by titling your message “Loot Request: ______” (the blank here indicating whatever it is you’re after). Here are the Piraka players; a parenthetical after a Piraka name below indicates that requests for that kind of loot are to be sent exclusively to that Piraka’s player. Zaktan (Antidermis) Avak (new tech items) Thok Reidak Vezok Hakann It’s up to you to sell the Piraka player you PM on your character’s worthiness of joining Team Evil. Piraka players reserve the right to refuse you on the grounds that they don’t trust you, don’t like you, or for any other petty reason that catches their fancy. If that happens, you can always try one of the other Piraka with the same request. Piraka players also reserve the right to demand IC payment for loot that they give you, and different Piraka will ask for different things, so playing the field can be to your benefit. You’re also allowed to engage in tech requests/bartering with Piraka IC; I’d actually encourage it, because it’s more fun! If this happens, though, you must notify me via PM that your character has obtained a piece of loot, and say in your message what has been obtained. Here’s how each kind of loot gets handed out. Masks Masks are available on a first-come, first served basis. If/when a Piraka player approves your request for a given mask, it becomes that Piraka player’s responsibility to notify me of the exchange so that I can amend the earlier part of this post to indicate that the mask has been taken. As soon as you see your character’s name next to the mask you requested, you may adopt that mask at your leisure; however, before your character assumes the new mask, you must lose/destroy your prior mask, so as to avoid an illegal duplicity. Technology To (mostly) avoid a slew of new tech requests, the rule about tech loot is that, from most Piraka, you may only request a tech item that has already been approved by BZPRPG staff somewhere in the Profiles Topic. In other words, the selection of tech items you get to request is limited to the things other characters already own. When pitching your loot request to a Piraka player, you are required to present them with a link to the Profiles post containing the gadget you want. There’s a customization exception: if you want a piece of new tech, you must request it from Avak directly, and do so IC. Synthesizing Avak’s own capabilities/motives as well as staff discretion, Tyler will then approve or deny your request. Antidermis Antidermis requests must be directed towards Zaktan (me), and those are the only loot requests that Zaktan (I) will take. If I approve your request, your character will be considered to have obtained a small amount of Antidermis. A vial/sphere (it comes in Zamors, of course) is enough to significantly affect one being, and the Antidermis you receive may only be used on one being; this one affected being can, however, be either your own character, an NPC (a Rahkshi, a Rahi, etc.), or another player’s character. You may only affect another player’s character with their expressed permission. If you decide to use the Antidermis you’ve obtained on another player’s character, your character may barter for a replacement piece of loot. Unless you’re choosing to use your Antidermis to enslave a Rahkshi, the way Antidermis affects your character is not wholly within your control. If/when your character gets a dose of Antidermis, you must PM me so that we can have a discussion about how the Antidermis would affect your character (and if you’re the person who traded for it originally, please just keep this conversation to the same thread we’d been using). My ruling will be final, but I’ll do my best to allow your character to have a new power you actually like. ~~~ If you have any questions, please feel free to post them below, and I'll provide answers. That’s about all I can think of to say about the Vault loot… so get to it, Foe-Drinkers Anonymous! Carpe Diem! YOLO! Etc.!

IC: "Finder's keepers," I winked. We'd entered an average-size Ta-Koro dwelling, cast mostly in darkness but for grey light that seeped through the windows. Around the walls, subtle yellow glows hither and thither indicated where lightstones, housed in standard turney-gurneys, the cylinders' emitting sides facing the walls and thus "off," resided. It wasn't hard to find on the wall of the foyer - I say foyer, I mean "space next to the doorway," ain't I fancy - the turney-gurneys' turney crank; I wheeled the thing, and on their gear mechanism, the half-dozen lightstones all turned around simultaneously, illuminating the loft and revealing everything. There were a lot of everythings; the space was cluttered (like the original resident's mind - yeah, simile!), but surprisingly clean, aside from a coating of dust that lay over everything like a skimpy hostel blanket (more simile!). Comfy couches and lounge chairs, which had probably seen enough action to sue for an early retirement, advanced in a menacing half-circle on the dead fireplace... which I guess made the chairs' positions overkill. Behind their low backs, a few game tables - these full-sized, with a familiar logo on their faces - squatted morosely, probably feeling left out from the Chairs' Club, with their applicable accessories put away all nice and pretty nearby. Against the far wall, next to the steep wooden stairwell that could only lead up to the chamber of sin, a piano watched the jealous tables with a the kind of haughty detachment only to be found in the large musical instruments. So I anthropomorphize furniture; so sue me. Where structural features like lights, windows, and bookshelves didn't steal vertical real estate, the walls were painted (pretty shoddily, may I say... I do some construction contracting on the side, so I'd know; oh, thanks for asking, my favorite tool is the reciprocating saw) in an eye-scorching bright blue. Wall deco didn't give us much reprieve, because there wasn't much of it, aside from some charcoal drawing of some chick framed (framed! egad!) over one of the bookcases. He really needed to hire an interior decorator, someone who could tell him to lose the blue, and get a freakin' professional to paint over it. I would have opted for steel grey, something to go with a retro industrial theme, all classy iron, stained wood, and distressed leather, add a few strategic rough-looking crates with something ironic printed on them, a few motif paintings, that sort of thing; I've got good taste, yaknow, and if he'd ever pay me, I could do wonders with his place. If I'd had the idea a few weeks earlier to crash over here I woulda mercy-killed the "mismatched sentimental artifacts" theme and straight renovated. But hey, this was what I had to work with. I jump-flopped down on one of the couches, producing a hefty pwooft and a cloud of dust, but something caught my eye as I did so, and I immediately stood up again. On a shelf by the door (the Dor door, stop, I'm too good), I fetched twin bottles of amber liquid, and tossed one of them at Neffrey (who cares if he caught it), before repeating my jump-flop on the same couch. I raised the bottle to my mouth and took a piratical swig, then rubbernecked around a bit, considering my options. To my disappointment, there was no scarf collection rack in sight, so that already eliminated a few ideas. Hm. Time to test the new guy. "Neft-not-Right," I summoned, raising my bottle grandly. "It's entirely possible that you were fated to be right here, right now, to provide me with a little divine inspiration... I normally do my best work - that is to say, the best work - alone, but way I see it, there's no hurt in plumbing the depths of the untested property: you. So tell me, Neffhead, what's the best way to totally prank the owner of this place when he comes back? Answer carefully, it'll totally shape my perception of you for all eternity."

IC: "Hate to burst your bubble, Neftickle," I calling back over my shoulder, as I'd since let go of him and skipped ahead, letting him follow me to our new destination (which was where, you ask? You'll find out in a sec, it'll be worth the wait). "But there are a few problems with this, ah, insinuation of yours." I sauntered over to a fruit stand, the Matoran curator just having managed to pick up his cart and prop the spoke of its broken wheel on a spare crate. I leaned heavily on the crate side of the cart, and pulled a juicy morsel from a basket. I started to eat it, and continued shooting down his dreams between chews. "One: there's no 'we' in this insinuation of yours. See me, I couldn't care less about what the people of this or any other Koro think of me, so why should I want to involve myself? If you feel like paying me, of course, that's another matter - me, I burn stuff down for a living; I also occasionally do other odd jobs, including yard work and kid's parties - but someone as pragmatic as myself, I'd see a field trip to the beach to fight with people... well, actually, sorta appealing, now that I say it that way. But that doesn't matter; I've seen a certain special someone back at that sad, smoking remnant of a bar, so I consider it extremely important to stay in town at least long enough to do a certain something." What something? Patience, silly, I'm not even there yet. "Two," I went on, taking a particularly large bite from the fruit. "There's no way--" "Hey," the Matoran broke in, all pout and scrawniness and oh-so-kickablility. "Are you going to pay for that?" "I'll decide in a sec," I said through my full mouth. I'm pretty sure some juice sprayed into the Matoran's eye. Score. I turned back to Neffers. "Two," I said again. "There's no way you get enough quality Skakdi together to fight the likes of those guys. See what they did around here, when they were just playin'? Without someone like me along, everyone who goes will probably be ki-- on second thought, actually, do round up a gang and storm in there, guns blazing. I heartily approve of this plan. I'll even bless the mission, I'm an ordained priest. Assemble all the second-raters around here and there just might be enough of you to last long enough for me to finish my bag of popcorn... no? Okay, you're no fun. So like I said, it's a suicide op. Funny as it would be for me to watch you throw yourself like water at the Piraka, who are the rock in this analogy... well, I've just realized there's no catch here, far as I can see." "Mister," the Matoran growled. "Pay for that fruit you just finished." "Make me," I grinned, licking the last of the juice from my lips. "Go find a Ta-Koro guard. I'll make sure no one else steals anything while you're away." "There's one right around the corner." I didn't have enough time to fight the pushovers of the Ta-Koro Superfriends. That special someone would be that special somewhere pretty soon, and I had to prepare for his arrival. I rolled my eyes and passed the Matoran a widget from my satchel. "Was that so hard?" the little Kohlii ball asked, way too smug for his size. In reply, I leaned over and loudly chomped my teeth within a few inches of his face. The curator recoiled instinctively and, squeaking, tripped over the curb as he did so. I laughed, and pulled 'Nef Said along with me as we continued on our way. "Three," I concluded, leading the other Skakdi further into the residential part of the Koro. "If I was going to give you real advice, I'd say that the people of this place probably don't think two lefts make a right. The enemy of their enemy is also their enemy if said enemy uses the tactics of the first enemy to repay the things done against the not-enemy. Or, that's how I'd assume these nauseating bastions of morality think. Prove me wrong, give me a good giggle." We arrived at the special someplace, and I dug around in my pocket for the key. He'd left the extra under the mat (and by "under the mat," I mean within view of the window around back that I smashed; and by "within view," I mean a few rooms over from said window, hidden in a locked drawer); rookie mistake. I unlocked the place, and turned back to my would-be moral compass. "Well, Nefamous," I asked, turning back to him. "How do you feel about being part of the greatest prank in recent history?"

By my timey-wimey calculations, I can't say definitively (thanks, BZPRPG time). What I can do is talk about the relativity of the event to current Dasaka characters. The last rebellion finished some time before Kuno was born, and occurred midway through Yusanora's tenure as Rora. Thinking about the last attempted coup as having happened a generation ago - when the "Grandmother" characters like Nera, Yusanora, and Yomiken were in their primes, and someone like Sheika was young - is the best way to place it in our always-shaky timeline.

IC: "Pleased to meetcha, Nefarious," I smiled, ever-so-polite, that's me. You know me. You know I can pretend. I went on, fixing a look of mock shock on my ace face. "Skakdi? Unpopular? Who toldja that? Look, Neffie - do you mind if I call you Neffie? I feel like 'Nefarious' is presumptuous... no? Okay, great, Neffie it is - look, Nef-Nef, unpopular just means unappreciated. They can't fathom my genius, and they can't fathom your physical proximity to genius. If they could, they wouldn't be up in our business so much." I reached down into my man-purse and extracted from the miscellaneous debris - including a little piece of metal slag that'd once been a wind-up toy, a few nabbed pieces of jewelery, someone's journal (with several pages dog-eared for my future enjoyment), a knife or two, spare widgets, my shades, and someone's finger (how did I get tha-- oh yeah, that was a laugh, good story... remind me to tell y'all later) - a single heroic toothpick, miraculously unbroken by the heavier items in the bag. Well, not too miraculously... I have a toothpick pocket. I raised the itsy bitsy wooden stick to my mouth and picked at a piece of food stuck between some of my back teeth. I don't settle for less than perfection. "Those Piraka sorts give the rest of us a bad name," I went on between strategic scrapes. The food wouldn't lose without a fight. "Yeah, they rolled up and made the Koro their playground, without any evident cause, which is cool and all, but so dull. Makes us all look uncreative. I bet none of them have a sense of humor, Nefadoodle. Not a single one. Where'd they go? Karz if I know, I was watching something else at the time. Lemme tellya, Nefallus, cockroach racing is the sport of kings--" Hold up no freaking way. No freaking way. Across the ruin of the Lavapool, a sudden motion - like, mask-level sudden - caught my eye, and made me look up. Somebody was about to fire-slap somebody else, but the slappeur had been stopped from getting to the slappee by a cushion of air. The slappeur didn't interest me. It was the slappee, his smizey focus wholly drawn by the had-been-impending, flaming palm, that made me almost loose my toothpick. Behind the quarter-dome of protective, wavering air, I recognized the dark armor, the prissy stance, the prettyboy face (but no scarf below it; that'd have to be fixed). A stroke of genius (classic me) made my temporarily slack mouth bend slowly into a deliciously devious expression. Once again, my hand graced Nef-Narf's shoulder, but this time I steered him away from the scene, the gravest urgency in my voice. "Nefaland we gotta go. Now. Follow me."

OOC: Natogreavesy, here's a little staff hospitality... If we're lucky, it won't end in hospitalization. IC: A hand, scarred and clawed, slapped down on the black-and-red Skakdi's shoulder as he turned away from the wreckage of what'd once been Ta-Koro's number one watering hole. His pale blue eyes followed the hand up its arm, and eventually alighted on a dirty-brown (notice the hyphen; I may be brown, but I pride myself on being clean as a wet whistle... that is, except in a couple spots) Skakdi, all lean muscle and casual swaggoo. The newby Skakdi's gaze observed in turn a handsome mug, a super-sweet green tattoo around one eye, a killer jawline, peak physique (I could go on, but I'll stop there); and when the aforementioned mug that was handsome broke into a smile, it revealed perfectly-kept pearlies, accented tastefully here and there with gold compatriots. The scarred hand squeezed on its new perch with a friendly dose of force. "Couldn't help noticing a weird-lookin' fella like you, following you around a while for kicks, keeping a less-than-respectful distance during that conversation you just had, and accidentally overhearing what transpired therein--" the immaculate teeth told him. As the pearlies clacked up and down and all around, the newcomer watched them in fascination. Can't say I'm not used to it. "Hey, bud," the toothy Skakdi snapped, interrupting himself and rounding about (which was a rather roundabout way of saying "turning") to stand in front of the newcomer and tap his dark face with a few fingers. "My eyes are up here." Mr. Traveling Skakdi met and held the gaze for a moment, but something in what he saw made him look away first. Mighta been the evident lack of any and all morality (I've been told so many times, "you do you, Grokk!" so I never pretend to be what I ain't, haters); coulda also been the fact that the dirty-brown Skakdi had closed his glorious mouth, once again throwing the surrounding world back into the days of darkness. There was an audible cry of unadulterated misery from somewhere, honest to karz. But the world didn't suffer for very long; suddenly, a charming grin split my face, and I removed my hand from the newcomer's shoulder, opting instead to flick him there a few times as I continued to speak. "Was only joshing, yeesh, no need to be so serious. Do you think I - me, of all people! - would actually be the sort to draw attention to the social unacceptability of objectifying someone's body, let alone know what objectification is? As if... Come on. Really." I chortled a little to myself. "I'm too good. But then, I s'pose you don't know me yet." My index finger and thumb put a cease to their hostilities for long enough to retreat from newby's shoulder and extend instead as part of a handshake. "The name's Grokk... "It's good to be back." "...Back?" he asked, puzzled. "Ooch, sorry," I apologized, my face a grimace that only could've been classified as ornate. "That last part I didn't mean to say quite like that... See, it was intended to be part of the narration - and therefore said in the narrative voice - probably separated from that last line of dialogue into a separate paragraph, y'know, for dramatic emphasis. At least, that's how I woulda done it. I'm a little rusty." "...Narration?" "Don't mind me. Just doing what I do." And doing it just as well as you could've possibly hoped.

OOC: Catastrophe time! IC: Days got hot on Po-Wahi. But even by Po-Wahi standards, today was a scorcher. Atop the wall of Po-Koro, the guard lookouts fanned themselves shamelessly with trinket fans that they'd bought from the bazaar below. The noon sun gave them no respite, and the flat parapets' meager shadow offered little help. Miles away, at the edge of their field of view, the dunes shimmered as though they were doused in water. The air, though blessedly without humidity, hung in place and broiled against their bodies, extracting sweat with the mercilessness of a tax collector. Most of the Koro's denizens had retreated to the insulated shade of their homes, but the guards' duty was diligence, so they couldn't wait out the heat until evening like everyone else. A bit of a breeze started to pick up, to the guards' relief; admittedly, it gusted hot air across their faces, but it was better than no breeze. The wind picked up even more, but this was, the guards knew, a bad sign. On the horizon, one spotted something like a distant, round little wall, which approached the Koro on ponderous wheels. The guards' faces went slack, and some lost grip of their cheap fans; the paper instruments were blown off the turrets by the same wind that had created the strongest sandstorm any of them had ever seen. Like a cloud that had deigned to float along the ground, the sandstorm rolled across the desert. Tan and puffy, it consumed the dunes in its wake, augmenting its strength. The wind upon the guards reached gale force as the storm, higher than even the towering walls of Po-Koro, approached in formation, consuming their whole field of view. Billowing masses of sand in the sandstorm's path were sucked up by its whirling winds, then tossed around in every direction inside the angry cloud; these whizzing chips of rock would subject the famous statues lining Po-Koro's entrance, and its walls, to accelerated weathering, and would blister the exposed skin of anyone caught within. Insouciant, arrogantly unaltered in its pace, the sandstorm finally swallowed the Koro, blotting out the sun behind a brown-orange blanket as it raged overhead. Po-Koro's walls did it a tremendous good, sheltering the settlement from the worst of the storm, but this only meant that the dunes transposed by the roiling wall of sand rapidly reformed against the stone shields, burying the Koro's gate and shortening its stature on the outside. Much merchandise that had been left in the bazaar was eaten at by eddies of sand-carrying wind. Outside the walls, the proximate tracks of the Iron Mahi were quickly buried. The sky whirled, the wind screamed, and the sand lashed; the sandstorm showed no signs of abating.