At the entrance of the pyramid I find a being with power. A divine being. Similar to myself. I also notice that he's completely still, not moving, breathing or even looking at anything.
"Hello?" I ask him in a couple of the native languages, including the older ones.
I decide that if he doesn't respond, I'll move on to another location, checking to see if I could find any others a bit more evolved than the natives of this planet. OOC: If nmagane doesn't react/post within the next page, I'll assume he's went into another hibernation/time freeze and move on to a different location.
i.imgur.com/sgtqw.png [/img] Joined 21st June 2008 (Original Forum Member) 1# to 2K, 3K Posts and 30 Badge 1# in Evil-ness 1# in Crazy-ness
OOC: But we're north of the island we were just on... EDIT-OOC: Ok, it seems that my earlier post wasn't clear where I set off from the island. I intended it to read that the compass was facing south, so we needed to go around the island [to go north]. EDITx2 in response to edit to above post: Ah, I get it now.
"Well, I have a friend who lives down there, his name is Cameron Smith, he should be able to help us travel wherever we need to go, of course, I can't speak for him, but we could use Puerto Ayora as a base of operations until we figure this... this..." The word came to him, "...Nonja issue." David didn't know where he heard it, but he felt as though that was what the attackers were called...
Ink Manipulation The ability to move ink, write or alter ink, and create objects from solidified ink at will. Used by Martin to write stories, bend ink-based messages to change actions, and create a single utility ink golem. Specializes in grammar, instigation, and secrecy.
Martin uses his powers to stay hidden, while simultaneously altering events that take place by bending facts. His ability to move and re-write ink has incredible range, though he is unable to work at great ranges when distracted by things. At short range, he can make walls and shields of ink, as well as a semi-sentient mass of ink that stands as a utility golem and protector. He must be within at least 100 yards of ink walls and shields to maintain them, likewise for the golem. Under great stress, his abilities drop their range to almost 30 yards.
Martin Bannerkxerckt was apparently a- Hello, this is Martin. All I will tell you is that I am 28 years old, male, and you will never, ever find me.
I am the restless haunt of DBF.
I'm in ur walls, eetin' ur pilloes! So get away from mah corn! I'm in ur cornfield, WHISPERING IN UR EARS!!!
Martin awoke from another peaceful night's sleep, shrouded in an impermeable bubble of hardened ink. He cautiously removed the top of his shield, and a bright sun shone down on him. He removed the rest of his shield slowly and looked around at his surroundings. He was in a forest clearing, with leafy oaks and maples around him. He had a cart of supplies nearby, with what looked like tons of paper and ink wells. As he turned, he startled himself with his own utility golem, staring dimly at him. He'd given the thing a whimsically silly face, with white dot eyes and a squiggly smile. The place looked familiar, but he could not quite remember how he got here yet. He stood up from the makeshift slab of a bed he'd made from ink, and his golem instinctively went to the cart and readied himself to pull it wherever his master bid him to. Martin calmed himself and sensed for traces of ink nearby. Of course, he sensed the great amounts he stocked in his cart. He sensed some slight pigment of what were likely flowers nearby as well. He sensed further, however, a collection of pure ink, most likely on papers. He focused harder on how the ink was arranged, and he picked out a number of words. And. The. Ramen. Torture. Chains. Stupid. Nonja. 'What an odd array of words', he thought, 'there must be some sort of office nearby.'
I am the restless haunt of DBF.
I'm in ur walls, eetin' ur pilloes! So get away from mah corn! I'm in ur cornfield, WHISPERING IN UR EARS!!!
Post by Fringe Pioneer on Feb 8, 2012 14:39:27 GMT
*At David's utterance of the word "nonja," an image of Matthew dressed in black uniform torturing someone restrained with barbed wire to an operating table instantaneously came to mind. The image disappeared as soon as it came. Matthew was quite terrified, but not because of the image itself. That the image did not terrify him, terrified him.*
"Yes, that is who they are. They are known as 'nonjas' - I am sure of it. I don't know why, but I'm sure they are called nonjas."
Johnathan walked back up, clenching his teeth a bit. "I think that bullet's going to be stuck in my shoulder now. ...In any event, I don't think I know where I am. I'm not in the same... planet, world, what's the word... ugh ...I don't know how I got here, but I'm stuck now."
Poison glove, slowly robbing you of your health in a hail of poisonous punches.
"The bullet didn't pass through? I had a bad feeling I would do something wrong, although I guess I technically didn't do any wrong by virtue of whatever one calls what I have. In any case, I'm afraid I can't help return you to whence you came."
*Matthew paused for a moment.*
"From where did you come, might I ask? What's your story?"
As he waits for Johnathan to tell his story, David takes a piece of his hair (which is actually a well-disguised leaf) and places it on Johnathan's wound. "That should help with the lead poisoning," he says as he backs away.
Looking briefly at the weird hair at the shoulder ("Uhh, OK..."), Johnathan began to tell his story. "Where I come from, there are these things called rocket-tubes reaching from the ground to waaay high in the sky, made of solid green blocks, slowing brown blocks, and speeding-up yellow blocks. We've always piloted the tubes in rockets, in six distinct levels. Noone ever thought there was a 7th, but I crashed through the roof of the 6th one and I got there, a new area noone'd ever found, with these purple blocks. They sped me up very fast, my ship came apart from the unbelievable speed, and before I went out I hit a strange multicolored block. Then I woke up on a cliff, and under it was a beach with this guy *jerks thumb towards Raegus*. I found that my inertia resistance and physical strength were really a bit higher than Rocket Pilots are, and at this point I frankly don't know what's going on/"
Poison glove, slowly robbing you of your health in a hail of poisonous punches.
Through an exhaustive search among the ink upon the documents, Martin can only conclude that a Nonja base is here. He also gathers that a series of torture chambers and holding cells are a part of what is the compound in which the documents are contained. 'Dealing with Nonjas... not my cup of tea.' On that thought, rather than investigating the facility like a normal human of any moral values, Martin decided to simply sabotage the documents. Within a few moments, all of the documents were turned into piles of useless Rorschach tests, not quite as an act of mischief, but as an act of instigation. 'Perhaps,' Martin mused, 'they will think they've a saboteur among them. Or at least a specter about. It should suffice to distract them until I vacate the immediate area.' Martin climbed into his supply cart and motioned for his golem to pull. His servant dutifully obliged, and began to tow the cart in the opposite direction of the facility.
Tempy's gonna love me.
Also, I find it eerie that when I hit random page on the wiki, I got the power of "Death Sense" thrice in a row. Should I be concerned?
I am the restless haunt of DBF.
I'm in ur walls, eetin' ur pilloes! So get away from mah corn! I'm in ur cornfield, WHISPERING IN UR EARS!!!
Yes, you should be VERY concerned. The Nonjas are mildly annoyed, but then they print out the digital copies. This IS the Nonja base after all: Everything is stored digitally and the hard copies are a backup. They torture the person that prepared the ink some.
Also, please no pulling random immunities from hammerspace.
Johnathan started to talk and then thought for a moment. "Not random people, most people are trained to do it, and the tests are pretty selective-" Here is where he began to ponder. "...Why? I never thought about that..."
Poison glove, slowly robbing you of your health in a hail of poisonous punches.
Post by Fringe Pioneer on Feb 10, 2012 2:38:44 GMT
"You know, I have a question. Puerto Ayora isn't too far away from where all these 'nonjas' are, right? I take it that means that Puerto Ayora has had visits from nonjas and ergo are either nonjas themselves or terrified victims of nonja atrocities. Now consider that we are in a nonja boat. Should we be concerned about the citizens of Puerto Ayora trying to fend us off or killing us?"
The citizens were visited by Nonjas, and while there are none there now the people there are part of the resistance, the "Nonja Fighters" of the game. Not that this game is intended to revolve around Nonjas, per se. They're a resistance scrapping up a living and if they see your Nonja boat they will most certainly try to stop it.
Of course, you don't know any of that yet, so pretend you don't.
Raegus: So this is definitely a nonja boat, yes? *turns to David* Raegus: Then how can this be your boat? OOC: Yes, Raegus doesn't like David for no particular reason. Mostly because of the boat thing.
Post by Fringe Pioneer on Feb 10, 2012 5:10:30 GMT
"Let's not worry too much about it. If we can just stop the boat before we reach the shore, get onto a flotation raft, and go to shore on it, then we shouldn't have a problem. Better safe than sorry, don't you agree, or do you think that the natives of Puerto Ayora will recognize you, David?"
Post by Fringe Pioneer on Feb 10, 2012 6:00:43 GMT
Oh, even I almost forgot about that. This is going to be a really entertaining - albeit awkward, as Temporarily9 (user) previously mentioned - portion of the game, although only being greeted by some nonjas or Temporarily9 (character) himself could possibly be better...
"It's not a... Nonja... boat. It's mine, and they commandeered it from me. I... I don't remember it... I just know someone took it... (was it me? IS this my boat? I don't know anymore...)...Anyway, Matthew, they wouldn't recognise me, unless they knew Trent, my contact."
Post by Fringe Pioneer on Feb 10, 2012 13:31:27 GMT
The Guilty Party, reading from here onward a little bit, the ship that Elmach and Owned by Glove entered is described by Temporarily9 as being painted in black and red colors with the Nonja Insignia. This is why we keep insisting the boat is a Nonja boat, although it wouldn't be contradictory to believe that you had a boat that, once taken by the nonjas, was given a paint job.
"I thought you said you knew a few people? Well, be it as it may, here's to hoping someone you know is part of whomever we meet. Shall we head to shore now? If so, in the raft, or in the boat?"