Legolover-361

IC: EnaEarly afternoonMining Shaft Alpha, OlfordTornados. I hate tornados.Sometimes, when the sun beats down too hard, we get what we call a dust devil or, more commonly, a duster. Olford's proximity to what desert remains of Bara Magna, behind the rain shadow of the mountain range, makes us a prime target for dusters. Dusters, however, while an annoyance and a cause of some delays in surface work, possess not the power to tear apart buildings and shatter bones as tornados do.I dive to the side as the rock I had used for cover flies like a missile into the mountainside. There are a couple cries as the four guards remaining in my entourage duck and run, hoping to divide the Toa of Air's attention. It won't work, I decide as I drop to one knee and draw an arrow: Our attacker is too focused on wanton destruction to care for picking out individual targets.I hear the sharp whistle of a tornado bearing down on me from my two o'clock and give myself two seconds. I concentrate briefly on our attacker, magnetizing his armor so it sticks uncomfortably together. One. I stick my tongue out, estimate the effects of the wind on my arrow's flight, shift my position accordingly...Two.Twang. Off it goes. I watch its flight path bend with the wind just as I had predicted--And off I go as the tornado I had noticed slams into me and flings me first into the air, then into the ground.* * *GM IC: Turaga TahuEarly afternoonPanel HQ, Central City"Thank you for being prompt, fellow Turaga," Tahu greeted them. Gali, Pohatu, Onua, Kopaka, Lewa -- their faces were so familiar now that Tahu's memory of their names was merged with that of their respective Kanohi. With the exception of Lewa, who had arrived before the others, Tahu nodded to each Turaga in turn."I called you here because I believe it's time to take drastic measures. We know thanks to active security and our Census that members of our society are missing. We know, too, that the Kanohi Vahi has disappeared. The citizens of Mata Magna aren't safe, and that, brothers and sisters, is a serious problem. Kopaka" -- for the Turaga of Ice had perked up as if to say something -- "I know it's obvious, but please, brother, let me finish my little spiel without interruption."Kopaka acquiesced, though his gaze still rested intently upon Tahu's eyes. Maybe he was using his Akaku to examine Tahu's head as he waited for Tahu to finish speaking. The Turaga of Ice could be patient when he wanted to be, but now seemed to not be one of those times."Then speak!" said Gali.Tahu inclined his head. "Very well, sister. Now... I ask that none of you call me crazy, because I already know I am, and I want to deprive Kopaka and Lewa of any possible jokes they hold at my expense." Kopaka flashed a brief smile as cold as the element he commanded; Lewa stifled a chuckle. "In light of recent events, and thanks to Professor Kora's insistences that time travel is a very real and very likely possibility... I think the time has come to use the Kanohi Olmak."Silence.Tahu had expected disbelief, but the other Turaga's reactions were not of disbelief. No, they were of ambivalence, of scales weighing pros against cons and finding a wavering balance."It's dangerous, brother," said Gali. "What if we assign a team of scientists to the Olmak and find ourselves short another great Kanohi?""We'll watch them," said Tahu."Who will watch them? Us? How closely? How long?""I know this is a dangerous idea, but what other choice do we have?"Another silence, this time more thoughtful. The ability to travel from dimension to dimension was far too dangerous an ability to exploit, so the Kanohi Olmak, the Turaga had decided long ago when they were still Toa, was to be locked in a place secret to all except them. To reveal undeniable proof of its existence, even to only a few people, was a concept alien to the Panel -- yet Tahu still repeated to himself, What other choice do we have?

IC: CorinthiaMiddayStarbucks; Alameda, CAThe latest Starbucks entrant was a young man, maybe Corinthia's age, tall and sharply dressed. As though following unwritten protocol, she glanced to him and proptly returned to her homework, which currently consisted of scrolling through her dictionary for a vocabulary word that didn't even appear to belong to the English language.Even through her earbuds, Corinthia could hear the conversations of several other customers. She trapped her lower lip between her teeth and wondered if she should move once her coffee and cookie were finished.When the blonde newcomer glanced over his laptop at Corinthia, a second passed before she realized she was meeting his gaze. He smiled. Her response was a quirk of the lip and a hasty retreat to her studies -- or maybe the coffee -- or, she decided on the fly, both, and she passed over her pencil, sipped her drink, nibbled some more on her chocolate chip cookie, and resumed leafing through her dictionary.Curiosity never wanes, however, and Corinthia found herself wondering about the young man. If he was as old as he seemed, which was Corinthia's age, seventeen, then why had she never seen him at school? Maybe he was a new college student (why someone would come to Alameda for college was a question she would ponder later), or maybe he had just moved here.She stopped herself before looking back at him. She was not a stalker; she was just another teenager studying over coffee and two-thirds of a giant cookie.The young man passed out of her mind as she copied the vocabulary word's definition into her notebook in meticulous print.

IC: CorinthiaMiddayStarbucks; Alameda, CAAt least once every week, a certain girl would slip into Starbucks seeking refuge from winter's nip and a place to study. She would lug her backpack to the front counter, order a mocha with whipped cream, and, once in a blue moon, one of those chocolate chip cookies half the size of her head, and retreat to a corner where she would lay out her orders and homework on the table and sit, one leg curled against her side while the other dangled off the chair. Sometimes, when she didn't have a lot of homework, she would brush her hair from her ears and insert her iPod's earbuds; the next thirty minutes would be spent nibbling and sipping while her head nodded a rhythm to her actions, eyes half-closed as if she were dozing. Such were her actions this day of latter January.She was always alone and looked it but seemed either not to notice or to prefer solitude. She almost never spoke except in a quiet voice to the cashier on duty when she ordered her coffee. Perhaps she was shy, for she avoided eye contact whenever possible and strove to look absorbed in whatever she was doing at the time; perhaps not, for her vocal inflections and body language never hinted at a desire to get away from other people, only at a preoccupied mind and a lack of anything meaningful to say.Every time the door opened, she would glance to it and the entrant who had passed through it before continuing her homework. She wrote with a light hand, never stressing her pencil's point -- she understood both the need to erase mistakes (especially in math) and the acute discomfort of standing during a test to sharpen a dull pencil. She would stick out the tip of her tongue half the time she was in deep thought; her foot would tap; her pencil would twirl between her fingers.Whatever bubble Corinthia Lancaster imagined herself to occupy -- psychological or physical -- it offered no time for mirth: The rare upward twitch of one corner of her lips was the only hint of happiness she displayed during her studies.

Name: Corinthia Violet LancasterCodename: N/AAge: 17Gender: FemaleFaction: NeutralPower(s): Increased hearing sensitivity to the point where she can accurately pinpoint the location and pitch of any sound (this makes choosing proper headphones a pain and transcribing a breeze) and notice even minute differences between sounds. She can also, with her near-perfect audio memory and flexible vocal chords, very accurately replicate any sound she hears.Appearance: Round face. Doesn't wear makeup except on special occasions. Straight dark brown hair, shoulder length; short bangs, parted on her left. Light but not pale skin. Stands about 5'5" and weights about one hundred eighteen pounds. Turquoise eyes. Wide smile. Generally dressed in jeans, a shirt, a black jacket, and sneakers; wears a scarf in low temperatures; garb (apart from denim-blue jeans) is generally in blacks and whites.Weapons: N/ASkills: Stays athletic by running track. Plays soccer on a casual basis. Decent chef.Personality: Withdrawn around strangers but talkative with friends. Honest, polite, all in all a very nice girl to know. Subdued sense of humor. Very into music, mainly indie, acoustic, and classical genres (think artists like Death Cab for Cutie, Silversun Pickups, Radiohead, The Postal Service, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart). Likes Starbucks. A bit of a bookworm. Likes the arts in general, though she's only a decent pencil artist and has only written several simple songs and fewer short stories. Big fan of Joss Whedon's TV show Firefly.Weakness: Loud noises affect Corinthia more than other humans due to her sensitive eardrums (partially why she prefers laid-back music). While athletic, she has little to no fighting experience.Bio: Corinthia (sometimes called "Corin" for short) was born and still lives in Alameda, California. As a child, she was raised Catholic, went to a Catholic private school, and learned how to play piano and viola. When she became a teenager, she switched to public high school and became more agnostic, though she remains on very good terms with her parents. She took up acoustic guitar and became more interested in music. She's studious, and that, coupled with her apparent introversion, leave her generally unnoticed in school. Corin has little idea that her hearing and vocal abilities are beyond any normal human's.

Rinse Cycle A clang — the darkness is thrown over you like a blanket. Where—? You’re crowded against several others in a small cage, unable to speak or otherwise move. The chamber proper is much larger: walls towering straight up and joining at right angles with the ceiling. How—? All you can remember is being surrounded by skin before being deposited into this cage. Before that... everything is a blur. Darkness. Dampness. Light. Why—? You stop yourself. “Why?” is a question far beyond your comprehension. Besides, the chamber has just shuddered. There — it shudders again. You hear a noise from its rough center as if something is being pushed forth. The sound of water rushing becomes clear. A click. A hiss. The same water you heard now slaps you in the head; you fall against a couple of your unseen companions, unable to hold yourself upright against such a vicious, burning torrent. You’re drowning, aren’t you? A whoosh. Something foamy is mixed into the water now, covering you and, you presume, the rest of the chamber. Abruptly, the streams of water pause; they start again in a different pattern, blasting the foam off your surface with uncomfortable force. More foam — more water — you lose yourself in the cycle; it’s easier to forget yourself and succumb than to think too hard about what you cannot understand anyway. When you think you can stand no more, when the water and foam have torn every speck of foreign material from your body, the cycle stops. You listen; no more water, save for the clouds of steam that feel as heavy as weights. Is it all over? When you start to think it is, the temperature rises. Steam is vented through an unseen filter as the remainder of water resting on your skin is brushed away by the heat. The heat would be comforting save for two problems: how preternatural it seems, and how much it increases. You burn. You burn till any remaining moisture has been stripped from the air, and then a little longer. Then the heat, like the steam before it, dissipates. You suddenly feel alone. The question “why?” presents itself again, and this time, you do not refuse it: In the dark, lying at an awkward angle against cold metal and plastic, you have nothing better to do than think. So you think, and you wait, and you think while you wait, and you wait while you think— Click. O, glorious fortune! — the light returns, and you feel the touch of free air and are assuaged. Even when a giant’s grasp reclaims you and bears you into the unknown, you don’t have fear. You are laid upon a light paper bed. “What’re we eating, mommy?” queries an eager voice above you; you both hear and feel vibrations of excitement through the table, courtesy of a little girl’s bouncing. “Spaghetti,” is the reply. Thump, and the plate lands beside you. “With meatballs?” “With meatballs,” the mother assures her daughter. “But you have to eat up before they’re cold!” You’re lifted again. You feel the vague impressions of skin, air, light, and tomato sauce in rapid succession as if they’re a blurred film strip.

Ramblings of a Writer has had a good run, but it's almost time to put it to rest again. The premier membership voucher I won in a contest expires on January 28. I wish I had done more with this blog, probably with premier membership altogether, but at least I got some use out of it. Thanks to all who have read this blog and commented; maybe I'll return in the future.

IC: EnaEarly afternoonMining Shaft Alpha, OlfordFwoosh -- as we charge out the lift of Mining Shaft Alpha, Kilayox's water shield explodes out with us as steam, effectively drawing a curtain between us and the enemies. That's not what I had in mind by stay out of the way, Kilayox, but I can live with it.The ground is hot and my bowstring taut as I dart to a metal pillar in the center of the shaft's protective building. The officers with me spread out, finding cover of their own. I start a mental countdown: five, four, three...I hear footsteps and the clash of metal on metal somewhere ahead, and I abruptly remember I didn't keep an eye on Kilayox.My bad."Hold!" I call to the officers and peek around my rock.The mist is dissipated. There's Kilayox in the midst of five Toa, presumably our attackers. She isn't bad, I have to admit, but I still make a mental note to provide her with a dictionary later so she can look up the definition of caution.I lock onto one of the Toa attacking Kilayox, a crimson one whose armor color screams "target". Aim. Breathe. Let the arrow fly...* * *GM IC: Turaga TahuEarly afternoonPanel HQ, Central City"Yes, brother," said Tahu, standing and nodding to Lewa. "But I'd prefer to wait for the others before speaking."

GM IC: Turaga TahuEarly afternoonPanel Headquarters, Central CityTap-tap-tap went Tahu's fingers on his virtual tablet's keyboard.To the Turaga Nuva: I want to speak with you within the quarter-hour.He paused to think, leaning against the rigid back of his chair and gently squeezing his tongue with his teeth. There were no writing prompts on the table; he stared at it anyway.It's about the thieves...Tap-tap-tap: backspace.It's about an idea for stopping the Vahi thieves. I'd appreciate -- wasn't "appreciate" a funny word for Tahu to use? he must be getting old -- your input. Thanks. -TahuThe Panel Meeting Room's white, domed ceiling reached far above Tahu's head like the roof of a cathedral. He sat at the middle of a semicircular desk that overlooked from atop its dias a small room with several chairs: all empty because the doors of the Panel Headquarters were closed to visitors today, which was part of the reason Tahu liked to be here. Especially when writing letters. Writing was not his forte.He sent the message, laid his tablet on the desk, and closed his eyes in rest.

I think so. The names might be considered, but I don't know for sure. Its probably best to assume that the names wont be canonized, because thats the most likely outcome. Hope this helps This is correct. It's highly doubtful any names will be canonized, so it's best to assume they won't be. There's also a serious chance the stories themselves won't be considered for canon if Mr. Farshtey isn't able to look them over (rules, too busy with other projects, etc.).

It's good to see you around again, TDH! Remember me from Mata Nui Inc.? (Sadly, the project is pretty much dead now.)

I'm glad to see my list hasn't yet attracted any death threats. I figured I should give a nod to Dead End Kings' symphonic qualities in its genres listed. I can't vouch for my genre approximation skills. The Birthday Massacre was pretty close to making the honorable mentions list if you were curious. Crystal Castles I didn't dig, though.

Takanuvainika, I'm afraid the Biohesive is too powerful a substance. Remove it from the picture and perhaps give Susik better fighting skills to compensate and your profile should be fine.

I listened to so many good albums in 2012, I couldn’t stand pruning my list to only the top ten. Thus, below are listed my top ten favorite albums of 2012 and ten honorable mentions, making the list an even twenty albums in total. A disclaimer: I made few attempts at being objective in my rankings. I chose my favorite albums on the basis of how much I enjoy them, not how technically proficient their musicians are or how unique they sound. Feel free to leave feedback on my choices, but I won’t change them except on my own terms. The honorable mentions and top ten are enclosed in spoiler tags not only for convenience but also for those who don’t want the list to be spoiled while they’re scrolling through my blog. Asterisks denote albums with any curses (albums with more than a few profanities aren’t counted in this list). The sum of applicable 2012 albums I’ve heard (forty-four total), listed in alphabetical order of artist: A Method of Symmetry by Agent Whiskers Awake in the City by The American Dollar Weather Systems * by Anathema Vital by Anberlin Hide and Seek by The Birthday Massacre Wrecking Ball by Bruce Springsteen Violent Waves by Circa Survive The Afterman: Ascension * by Coheed and Cambria (III) by Crystal Castles Away from the World by Dave Matthews Band In Currents by The Early November The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver of the Screw... by Fiona Apple New Horizons by Flyleaf Some Nights * by fun. Scars & Stories by The Fray Ground Dweller by Hands Like Houses Thrift Store Jesus by Heath McNease Cold Hard Want by House of Heroes Night Visions by Imagine Dragons Blunderbuss * by Jack White Dead End Kings by Katatonia Strangeland by Keane Battle Born by The Killers Les Friction by Les Friction Almería by Lifehouse Living Things by Linkin Park The Lumineers by The Lumineers Soundtrack for a Great Adventure by Maximalism Ten Stories by mewithoutYou Portal 2: Songs to Test By by Mike Morasky Babel * by Mumford & Sons The 2nd Law * by Muse Summer Cycle by My Shadow and I The Midsummer Station by Owl City Gossamer * by Passion Pit ThePianoGuys by ThePianoGuys What We Saw from the Cheap Seats * by Regina Spektor Clockwork Angels by Rush III by Shiny Toy Guns Neck of the Woods by Silversun Pickups Oceania by The Smashing Pumpkins King Animal by Soundgarden Beacon by Two Door Cinema Club Southern Air by Yellowcard Honorable Mentions: Top Ten of 2012: (P.S. My apologies for the delay in posting this list: I was sick for all of last week.)

IC: KynaeraAfternoonHut, Ga-KoroTo any observers, Kynaera would appear to be lounging in a comfortable chair and reading a book. She was indeed scrolling through the words on the pages, but her thought processes were focused on other subjects: namely, Dorian's whereabouts.He had left her in the middle of the street soon after their kiss, leaving her victim to the stares and whispers of passers-by. Even her coldest gaze hadn't stopped the staring. She had retreated as nonchalantly as possible to the hut provided her as a member of the "Toa Arete", locked the door, and begun reading almost immediately after.Dorian would know where to find her, right? If he didn't come within the hour, she would search for him. No need to worry. Right?Kynaera abruptly realized the book in her hands was garbage and placed it back on the shelf with a groan.

IC: EnaMiddayLift, Mining Shaft Alpha, OlfordI'm thinking hard about Kilayox when the crack of a gunshot shatters the calm. Several others follow in quick succession with a sound like firecrackers.My first instinct, strengthened by years of experience, is to generate a magnetic field around our group. Kilayox's water shield is already activated, slowing the bullets enough to prevent them from being lethal; my magnetic field protects us completely.Too late. "Man down!" says one of the officers; he crouches by the limp, rather bloody body of another officer whose heartlight is already dark.I curse. "Those Brakas will pay. Lock and load, boys; we're hunting today."My focus returns to holding my magnetic shield in place, though I still hear and see as if through fog my officers preparing for battle.The enemies cease their spray of bullets; only a second passes before the first fireball slams into Kilayox's water shield with a hiss. I swallow another curse and lower my magnetic field. "Kilayox," I say, tightening my jaw every time flame connects with her barrier of water, "when I say go, you're going to lower the shield and run with us. Try not to get in the way; we've been trained for this sort of thing.""Ready, ma'am!" an officer informs me."Good," I respond.The officer who had tended to the dead body now speaks: "What about--?""We're leaving him here till we've dealt with the immediate threat--"Another hiss. Kilayox doesn't look like she can hold the shield much longer. We've delayed far too long; the enemies could even now be beating a hasty retreat."Stay behind me!" I bark, nocking an arrow in my bow and raising it. "Ready -- hold -- go!"We charge out of the lift, me taking point, the officers immediately looking for prime firing positions.

IC: EnaMiddayUnderground, Mining Shaft Alpha, OlfordI can feel Kilayox's eyes on me as she moves to my right and appears to examine the lift controls. I'm not short, but even I notice the Toa of Water seems even taller up close. Maybe that's her point.I pretend not to be bothered by our size difference, simply nodding and hitting the button that will bring us back to the surface. The metal doors shut with a clink; the lift hesitates a moment, shudders, and ascends."Please keep your limbs inside the vehicle at all times," I say more to myself than to Kilayox.

IC: EnaMiddayUnderground, Mining Shaft Alpha, Olford"They are not bottom-feeders," I respond, perhaps a little coldly. "They're citizens, and it is my responsibility to protect them. As a Toa, you ought to think the same. Officers!"I gesture with two fingers back to the lift; the guards board it promptly, moving to the back and sides to leave room for other boarders and me. I enter the lift and indicate for Kilayox the open spot beside me. The other beings aren't my concern. They can find another way up or board with us; I don't care.

I've been sick since Tuesday, so my mental capacities are not operating at one hundred percent, but hopefully my belayed responses to Lev below will still make sense. You're speaking of morals as if they are dependent on the amounts of light and shadow rather than the ratio of light to shadow. A morally neutral person ought to have a light-to-shadow ratio of 1:1, a true Toa of Light such as Takanuva a ratio of 1:0, and a Makuta such as Teridax a ratio of 0:1. (One is the highest number possible for either side of the ratio.) Your choice of the word "incline" is why I say Toa of Shadow can be more morally neutral. The moral light-to-shadow ratio of a being is not the final word on that being's morality.Consider the Av-Matoran. As they are beings of light, they ought to be moral paradigms (a ratio of 1:0) or near enough (1:0.1, perhaps?); yet, in Karda Nui, Gavla was unable to socialize with the other Av-Matoran.Consider Makuta Krika. He was able to show Gali mercy in Karda Nui; rather than kill her, he asked her to flee and save herself. Would a truly evil being care at all for the lives of his or her enemies?Consider Toa Takanuva after the shadow leech drained at least half of his light. He was more aggressive in his fighting and quicker to anger when trapped in a corner, but he lashed at the people who attacked him, not his friends (at least, not on purpose), and elsewhere in the story was remarkably clear-headed for someone saturated with half moral shadow. In brief: A single criteria cannot by itself define a character's morality. Light and shadow are on equal terms, yes, but the conscious mind's decisions are not ruled by those elements.If you still feel a need to continue this discussion, PM me. I would prefer Loophole's discussion topic to remain a discussion topic for its respective RPG, not for elemental philosophy.

IC: EnaMiddayUnderground, Mining Shaft Alpha, OlfordI hesitate, then order, "At ease." The guards comply, straightening a bit but not moving from their cover. It doesn't hurt to be careful.I now address the Toa of Water. "I know the robot is no threat, Toa Kilayox. Forgive me if I'm cautious about unknown Toa, especially Toa of Water who are in close proximity to an area where a flash flood occurred. Olford is not an island; it is a city of Mata Magna, and I would like to know what you are doing in one of its mining shafts."

I don't understand what you're asking me to clarify. I said Toa of Shadow can be morally neutral though a little on the dark side -- as I said and Krayzikk quoted, if you assume Toa are naturally morally gray, then Toa of Shadow are naturally morally dark gray. Also, why mention an example wherein yin is replaced with another yang?

OOC: There are six Toa altogether, for the record.IC: EnaMiddayUnderground, Mining Shaft Alpha, OlfordI pull out my bow but don't load it. The other officers take precautionary positions in the limited cover offered by the rocks jutting from the tunnel walls at irregular intervals, their rifles lowered but ready to aim at the Toa of Water on a moment's notice."We're officers of the city of Olford's security forces," I announce, advancing slowly but nonchalantly. I stop three meters from her and size her up. She's tall but stooped. Dangerous-looking. "I'm Ena, captain of those forces. Who are you?"

Chillax, guys. Yet even after the Makuta purged themselves of the rest of their moral light, Makuta such as Krika existed, Makuta -- considered the evil masters of shadows -- who actually showed the qualities of pity and mercy. Certainly Makuta Teridax was twisted beyond belief, but not all Makuta were so devious.While beings of shadow do tend to be morally darker than their brighter peers, Toa of Shadow are not automatically evil. They're touchier, they're more morally ambiguous, but they aren't all villains.