Legolover-361

Name: VoloSpecies: Ta-MatoranGender: MaleAppearance: Average height and weight; deep red Noble Matatu, chest, and extremities; yellow-orange under-armor and limbs.Powers: NoneSkills: Twenty-twenty vision. Quick talker and attentive listener. Volo has years of experience digging for news.Weaknesses: Almost no combat experience. Also addicted to cigarettes (bad for your lungs).Equipment: A tape recorder and camera.Bio: Volo’s a gumshoe through and though. He lives like he has his foot on the accelerator: He talks fast, eats fast, drinks fast, thinks fast; he listens carefully and listens well. He knows what he wants and will stop at almost nothing to get it. Volo has been a reporter for several years now, and his experience makes him confident. Confidence, he’s learned, helps him get places.

Congratulations to the winners! I hope to play at least one of the RPGs this season.

I really hope this isn't an April Fool's Day joke.

IC: LoriNighttimeCave, mountains north of OlfordLori gestured to the other Toa's suit. "Teleportation," he said. "I think Scorum would be interested. I know I am."

KAKARU HAPPY BIRTHDAY AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

I listened to "Day of Glory" and am now listening to "Horizon". I really like this music.

I voted for 1, 6, and 8.

That's A-okay, then.

I voted for 1, 3, 4, and 7. 1 and 7 are the ones I'm most interested in playing.

I voted for 2, 4, 5, and 6. Entries 4 and 6 particularly interest me.

NuvaTube, are you talking about implying a non-canon character exists, rather than actually showing the character "on-screen"? If so, your inclusion of her in the plot sounds fine to me.

It's about time I entered an FFFC theme!Name: Legolover-361Theme: A Canister AshoreWord Count: 893Link: http://www.bzpower.com/board/index.php?showtopic=9154&st=0&p=523208(A note: I only edited the post to add the tag "A Canister Ashore".)

Message in a Jar A faint glimmer on the horizon swelled from a line of light into the burning disk of the sun: the dawn of another morning. Warihu was already awake, sitting on a log at the edge of the tiny island’s forest and watching as the sky turned first indigo, then velvet, then the warm hues of fire that lit the water with a billion brilliant sparks. He had long ago given up hope that any seafaring vessel was likely to come across him and Koraia on the island they now called home, for here, hoping only interrupted surviving. The shipwreck he still remembered foggily: Their small sailboat had been tossed and turned about so many times by the storm, and so much time had slipped by without notice, who could know where they were? They had no dependents to mourn their losses, only a few casual acquaintances who had never understood why a pair of Onu-Matoran would take to the waves, anyway. He took up a stick, looked over it indifferently, and drew circles in the sand between his feet: the Matoran letter for S, followed by O and then another S. He only let it sit a moment before scuffing the sand with his right foot, casting the stick from him, and standing to stretch. Then he saw the glint of glass on the border of water and sand. * * * “Koraia? — have we something to write a message on?” Koraia shifted on his bed of leaves underneath a leafy overhang. He showed about as much inclination to answer Warihu’s question as the trees surrounding the Onu-Matoran campsite. “Koraia!” Again Koraia shifted, but this time he offered a response muffled by drowsiness: “Nn — what?” “Do we have anything we can use to write a message?” Koraia opened his eyes and looked blankly at Warihu, who was digging through the pile of items salvaged from the shipwreck. The pile was small but disorganized: Neither Onu-Matoran had bothered to sort it in the week they had dwelled on this island. Warihu continued: “Tablets — anything.” “Oi — what? Why?” “Because a jar washed up on this shore. Here” — Warihu halted his search and hefted the jar for emphasis — “it has a lid; we could stick something inside...” “So? Throw it out.” Koraia appeared to think the same of the conversation, for he turned over to face away from Warihu. Warihu didn’t relent. “So, we can send a message. For help.” “To whom?” The question gave Warihu pause. Half a minute passed in silence before Koraia’s breathing again became slow and heavy. Warihu inhaled deeply to calm his nerves and resumed his search. “To whomever,” he responded. * * * The firewood, engulfed in flame, crackled and popped from heat. The faint halo it cast reached outward a couple meters in a rough circle. Warihu sat just within the light’s perimeter, his legs tucked against his body, his right hand holding a piece of bark whilst his left carved Matoran lettering onto its surface. Koraia sat on the opposite side of the fire, the center of his face illuminated by the amber light while shadows wrapped around the rest of his head and gathered above his brow like a second mask. His yellow eyes watched as Warihu worked. HELP — SHIPWRECKED ON ISLAND BETWEEN SOUTHERN CONTINENT AND XIA. “You think anyone’s going to come?” Koraia suddenly asked. Warihu paused. “Probably not.” A chance in finding one star out of a million, he added to himself. “Then why bother?” Warihu glanced to the sky. “Because there’s a chance it will.” Koraia acquiesced, but hesitantly, turning his gaze first to the night sky and then the flickering patterns of flame as if looking for a satisfactory answer. He must have found none, for his lip twisted slightly, and he remained silent. Warihu finished his message on the opposite side of the bark: PLEASE SEND ASSISTANCE. He stopped. His message was brief, but he could fit no more of worth onto the small piece of bark, and bark of bigger size wouldn’t fit within the glass jar. Koraia looked up just as Warihu closed the lid over the message. “I’m going to send it off,” said Warihu. Koraia nodded, though his focus seemed to be elsewhere. “You can come with me if you’d like to.” Another absentminded nod. Warihu, assuming his friend meant to remain by the fire, stood up to leave. Koraia stood up, too. * * * Warihu checked the jar’s lid twice before he began wading into the water. Koraia stood on the shore, not offering to help but also not returning to camp. Both Matoran were silent. When the water reached Warihu’s waist, he reared back and threw the jar. It somersaulted through the air and landed with a splash some meters out to sea. A second passed before its glassy glint was again visible, bobbing atop the water like some strange marine creature. Warihu watched it go. Then he turned and half walked back to shore, half let the waves carry him thither. “We’ll make sure the jar didn’t wash back in tomorrow,” said Warihu. Koraia nodded. Warihu waited for him to say something, but he seemed too tired to speak. Thus silenced, the pair trekked back to the periphery of the inland trees as, behind them, the tide drew nigh over the shore like a blanket tucked over the chin of the sleeping island. * * * * * I have nothing to say apart from the title of this story being blatantly uninspired because I was blatantly uninspired. Constructive criticism is welcome.

Now I wish I'd been around during the old days.

IC: KynaeraDaytimeGa-KoroThe wind grew oddly chilly. Kynaera retreated a little farther into the cover of her cloak and, from there, observed Nokama's casket sink as though she were watching an animal be dissected: emotionless as always, but also unaffected by the gravity of a life lost. She had not been part of the event; nor had she known Turaga Nokama; thus, she felt no empathy toward the crowd of grieving Ga-Koroans, only a subconscious understanding that the Matoran, having known Nokama, had a right to be sorrowful.She thought then of being at a funeral for Dorian, but immediately shoved the thought back into the darkness from whence it had emerged. Besides, he wasn't dead. Right?For the moment, no one present said a word. The casket had already disappeared, but perhaps the fond memories of Nokama hadn't yet faded. It took effort, time, or both to leave those memories in the dusty attic of the subconscious mind and remember them, and the death of the person in them, as only shadows of the actual events. It was like tossing a rock into water: The splash was large and loud but soon disappeared in favor of small, unremarkable ripples.Kynaera turned her eyes, not her head, to glance across Anthyn at Ketan; the Toa of Air's expression was dignified and regretful and somehow hilarious, all simultaneously. Anthyn's expression was perhaps more comical, for Kynaera hadn't known the Valkyr could look so somber. Anthyn was also, however, taller, and her presence was more commanding than Kynaera's.The casket was ten seconds gone now. Kynaera waited for Ketan to speak again, wishing a little guiltily that the event would soon conclude.

IC: LoriEveningOutside bank, Central City"I can't," said Lori. "It doesn't work like that." He withdrew from the edge of the roof and lifted himself to his knees. "We do, however, have a contact who has offered to keep his basement clear."Standing but crouching, Lori rushed to the other end of the roof and dropped silently to the alley below. He took point, the other two serving as rearguard as they darted across several lanes. Finally, when the group was at the outer wall, Lori pulled open a door, ushered the other two through it, and ensured they had reached the bottom of the steps before shutting the door behind them.The room in which they found themselves was pitch-black, save for a single lightstone resting on a desk opposite the back door."Go ahead, Naka," said Lori.He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, except the lightstone's glow suddenly became fuller, the heretofore unnoticed window to his left was now filled with the soft blue of early morning, and both light sources illuminated a sleek hover-cycle resting in one corner of the worn, stony lower room."Naka, fire up the cycle," he said, returning to the door and opening it a crack to peek outside. Apparently satisfied, he opened the doorway fully. More faint sunlight flooded in; from the doorway of this house, the easternmost of all the cities of young Mata Magna, nothing obstructed Lori's view of the vast plains that stretched to the horizon and the fuzzy mountain range that crowned it.The hover-cycle hummed as Naka maneuvered it up the stairs and out the door. Lori mounted behind Naka and motioned for the female Toa to get on the seat behind him, despite her obvious dissatisfaction with the idea. Thus arranged, Naka's Vahi glowed and the cycle jumped forward almost simultaneously.The journey to the mountains north of Olford took only minutes. The wonders of time travel...Up a mountain and into a cave drove the hover-cycle, and down the dark tunnel that stretched beyond like the throat of a giant beast. Midway down the tunnel was a fork. Naka took the right path, rounded a sharp corner, and emerged into open space: a giant, artificially-carved cavern. It was mainly empty, save for a few people either eating a small meal, exercising, or slumped against the wall in an attempt to rest. A rickety table stood against one wall with the signs of depleted refreshments -- empty cups and bowls, a couple scattered paper plates and cups. Numerous other tunnels lined across the back wall led, Lori told the stranger over his shoulder, to living quarters.Naka parked deftly in a smaller offshoot of the cavern in the back-left corner, and the three dismounted. Lori muttered something about "stupid empty celebrations" before turning to the newcomer."Our home," he said, as if it was the least interesting home in the world.

IC: LoriEveningBank, Central CityLori's smile widened a little. "Then I think we're off," he said, "before anyone else comes." And, with that and with the Toa's face preserved in his mind, he disappeared into the shadows.He reappeared by the elevator doors. "Wait," he said to the other Toa, and he disappeared once more to reappear by Naka's side."We're going out.""Why?""Cargo. Living. We do not want her as an enemy. You climb back up the elevator shaft, and we'll go up the stairs and meet you."Naka's gaze was questioning, but she accepted Lori's word and began climbing. Lori paused for a moment, then transported himself back to the hallway."Going up," he said. "Stay close."They ran down the hallway, their footsteps echoing. Lori paused before they reached the doors, though, because too many footsteps were echoing. His and the other Toa's footsteps stopped. The others continued. Cursing, Lori muttered for the other Toa to hold her position, then ran for the doors, kicked them open, and threw a veil of shadow across the guards' path.As expected, the guards fired at abandon. They stopped quickly, as any competent guard would, unwilling to risk shooting each other. They also, as any competent guard would have been, were overpowered quite easily in utter darkness by a Toa of Shadow trained in ambush.Lori didn't bother rearranging the bodies; he simply led the female Toa by them, ignoring her wary, wandering eyes and focusing on the hope that the cops weren't lying in wait yet.They weren't. Lori slammed open the ground floor doors without contest. Naka stood, faintly fidgeting, by the front desk; sirens blared from behind her, somewhere outside the bank.Karzahni. They were close."Can we transport?" asked Lori.Naka shook her head. "It needs to be in an isolated area."Lori swallowed to calm himself. It didn't work. "Then let's find one--"He stopped himself, remembering rather belatedly that Naka was his superior. The Toa of Stone didn't seem to mind the mouthing off, though. Maybe she was thinking about how to best dissect Lori when they returned to the gang's hideout."Back door," he said, pushing the other thoughts from his mind.The three of them ran past the front desk and down the hallway again. Lori opened the stair doors, cut to the right, and ushered Naka and the newcomer through the emergency exit.They had surmounted a rooftop by the time the cops arrived for good.

No worries; this is indeed the discussion topic for this RPG.To the first question: I do not plan to re-enter Loophole in the next RPG contest, so as Canis said, this RPG should be alive for maybe another two weeks.To the second question: No. There may be some RPGs that do require genders be bound to elements, but I haven't seen them, and this particular RPG does not have such a requirement. Heh, uh, I've never actually been in a bank beyond the counter in a small one. I was thinking of film portrayals of vaults as I wrote my posts. My only alibi is that banks in Bionicle aren't necessarily modeled after those in the real world.

IC: LoriEveningBank, Central CityCheck and mate. She was good.Lori gritted his teeth, but his lips, closed over them, were curled in a faint approving smile. "Fine," he said with a step back. "But there's a question I need to ask you. How can I trust you aren't going to betray us?" His eyes he affixed on the stranger's visor, and his head he canted to one side as if his query were no more important than, How's the weather?

IC: LoriEveningBank, Central City"Not anarchy." Lori glanced again to the stairwell doors, speaking quickly and softly. "Freedom. The Turaga are senile. They think we're just their grandchildren. We have no say in whether they continue ruling or not. And how many secrets do you think they keep from us?"He walked slowly by her, his footsteps making almost no sound. "We aren't anarchists. We're freedom fighters. The ends justify the means, don't they?"Now standing by the doors, he faced the woman once more. The space behind the doors was dark enough for him to slip through if necessary. "Well?"

IC: LoriEveningBank, Central CityThe fact that this woman felt the need to ask Lori why meant there was a chance to make her empathize. To be fair, Lori was not a particularly empathetic figure, and Lori robbing a bank even less so. That didn't stop him from trying."A couple casino owners have accounts here," he said, thinking quickly. "All I'm doing is getting a loan for my -- our revolution. 'We' being the people who have decided protection doesn't also involve infringement of privacy."

IC: LoriEveningBank, Central CityBam.The Karz--?Lori tumbled to the ground, barely catching himself with his arms before he landed on the black-clad feminine figure beneath him. His mind caught up with his body a second later, and he abruptly remembered there had been no one in the hall a second before.He froze."Here for the sights or for the cash?" asked the woman, her body language suggesting suspicion. That, and the lightning whips that extended from her arms."I came expecting one and got the other," responded Lori, standing a little more slowly than was prudent and backing away, hands held up, palms outward, to show his unwillingness to harm her. Naka would probably throw a fit -- that is, if she were capable of acting outwardly angry, which many people doubted -- but this stranger had appeared out of thin air, a nifty trick..."And you?" asked Lori, glancing to the stair doors.

OOC: My fault for the confusion, Lev and Canis. Sorry.IC: LoriEveningBank, Central CityThere were more guards ahead, Lori was certain, but they were hiding somewhere in the hope of an impromptu ambush.Lori almost laughed, but he was on a tight schedule that didn't include mirth.He stuck his retrieved throwing star into his belt as he ran down the hallway. Naka followed stealthily enough a ways behind: in Lori's eyes, like a nanny watching her young charge play. Lori could almost hear her unspoken insistence of testing him and grimaced. His ebony armor gleamed underneath the harsh glare of the hall's artificial lightstones like a beacon, and his grimace extended.If the Toa of Shadow was right, the elevator at the end of the hallway would bring him and Naka down into the vault. He slid to a halt by the sliding doors, paused in consideration, and reluctantly hit the down button.As the elevator doors opened, Lori heard the faint sound of sirens."Be fast," he told Naka as she boarded the elevator with him; "hit the button for the vaults and follow me" -- and he set an example by opening the panel at the top of the elevator before the doors had shut. He leaped up and through the opening, waited for Naka to clamber through as well, and placed the panel back into position.A second later, he heard the hiss of the doors opening. He waited. The guards who were surely stationed in the vault also waited. Seconds passed.Then he heard a voice, muffled by the metal but not inaudible: "Steady. Probably a trick."Yes, Mr. Officer, this is a trick. Thanks for noticing.Cursing his shortsightedness, Lori looked back up the shaft to the set of doors just above. "Hold on," he told Naka, and he leaped so he could grip the bottom edge of the door. He pulled himself up and peered through the gap between the doors. If the other side was dark enough...It was, but barely. "Hold tight," Lori whispered to Naka before letting himself be dissolved by the shadows.Dissolution was a curious feeling. Suddenly, Lori's body was no longer inhibiting. His body had become darkness. He was darkness. His only barriers, albeit ones he felt significantly, were those of light. He flowed through the shadow between the elevator doors and materialized -- if you could call it that -- on the other side.Now Lori activated his Volitak and ran down the hallway to the set of doors that led to the stairs. If he was quick enough, if he was silent enough, if he was lucky enough, and if the vaults were dark enough, the security guards below would never see him coming.

Good list. Sadly, I've only heard a few of the albums you included -- namely, Cold Hard Want, Vital, Babel, and Scars & Stories. I don't think Scars & Stories deserves its place, which is a bit surprising considering my overall fondness for the band, but to each his own (and, a postscript, Cold Hard Want is awesome).

To continue the conversation about outlines: Outlining has only helped me indirectly when writing stories. The few times I have written a decently detailed outline, the final product has deviated from my original plan. As I normally only write short stories, writing only skeleton outlines (e.g. one-line establishment of each scene) or winging it doesn't inhibit my writing too much, though I think writing a novel would require, at the very least, a skeleton outline.Speaking of novels, I feel I would be able to write one if I treated it as a sequence of short stories; I have procrastinated far too long on writing a novella and have an idea for a potential novel, so I hope my changed perspective will encourage me to ignore the intimidation factor and just write. Has anyone else used this viewpoint to write a multi-chapter story, or do most of you treat such a large story as a single, continuous tale?