Harvali

Wow, checking BS01 really reveals how little we know canonically about the races the Barraki belong to. We know Takadox’s species can hypnotize, and we know a rough description of Ehlek’s race, but the rest? We only know they can use masks. And their sets are of them post mutation, we don’t know their natural forms. Except Nocturne I guess, if he shows up. …Oh dang it, can Pridak use the Mask of Creation? Or is it Vahi rules where it’s difficult to control?

OOC: guess who previously didn’t know disks were reusable. IC Kanohi - the surrounding regions of the Coliseum Kanohi dived down as the building he had mended began to crumble, the Matoran below seemingly gotten to safety. As he swung beneath the falling building he swiped up his regeneration disk, before grappling away. His body lurched at he hooked another skyscraper, whipping himself upright. It was … his grappling guns had never had this much power, this speed, this range. The upgrades that Knichou had done were … awe inspiring. Not just to his gun, but to Kanohi’s body itself. It was clearer than ever how much greater a Fe-Matoran Knichou was that him. And yet, Knichou had trusted him with this upgrade. He had faith in Kanohi. And helmet Kanohi leave the plan. It was … it was a strange feeling. He needed to prove himself but it felt … different than usual. Less … corrosive? Is that what he was feeling? Regardless he spotted a bridge filled with a strange green mist? Poison? He swung towards the spot, slotting a remove poison disk into his disk launcher.

Wrote this a while back, not sure it belongs here since it’s LEGO not Bionicle, but hey, folks need something to read during the pandemic. The Ultra Agents sublime came out during my dark age, but I loved the look of the villains. Sadly the agents felt generic. In fact it always bugged me that the only superheroes in LEGO were licensed, there were original Lego supervillains, but not heroes. And at the time Red Ranger would not be announced for a while yet. So a few years back I wrote this little story about a toxic vigilante. Far warning, as the tag implies there is lgbt+ content, because a lesbian friend of mine has opinions on Toxikita, though I will say there are no burying of gays hereof anything nsfw. Also warning that there are allusions to real life politics, so be aware of that. Also be aware I was in a mood when I wrote it, so this has about as much subtly as a brick. (Get it, because LEGO?) Anyway, it’s something to read, so enjoy. Interview with a Supervillain A short story about a toxic vigilante … A lone minifigure walked the streets of Chood City, she was wearing a long cloak, the hood obscuring her face save for a few glimpses of green. She stepped across the sidewalk, a cracked and chewed up place, the surface uneven and faded in color. Her feet clicked across the ground as she walked, her head sweeping back and forth. She scowled under her hood at the clicking, it was completely out of rhythm, thanks to the lack of repairs to the street. She clutched her head to try blot out the annoying offbeat sound, tapping her head loudly with her hands, trying to keep herself calm with the better more musically sound noise. But then even though her hands she felt a scream echo from a block away. The autistic minifigure sighed, and then she began to sprint across the rough unkept sidewalk. She clenched up at the clicking, but she did not stop running. As she ran her cloak was swept behind her, the hood pulling back to expose her bright green hair and her unnaturally lime green eyes. Her eyes lacked pupils and specks of green covered her body, her lips were a bright green, and she was wearing a shirt with a strange symbol on it, not unlike a fusion of a biohazard symbol and the skull and crossbones of a pirate. She wore a spiky collar, and dangling from her leg was several glass bottles full of a noxious green fluid. The strange woman ducked into an alleyway, taking a shortcut through the city. As she excited she hugged the wall, peering around the edge to look for the source of the scream. She could see armored cars parked outside of the homeless shelter, a place for minifigures who couldn’t afford bricks, had missing parts, or were too clumsy to build with them. She tightened, before sprinting forward towards the cars and the shelter. With a touch she swept her hands against the armored cars, and from her hands cane a toxic fume that made their tires hiss and deflate. She did not stop, just running straight in. She could see the police throwing the homeless minifigures to the ground, disassembling their wheelchairs and crutches, kicking the minifigures as they fell. “Lousy parasites,” one of them spat, right before the green woman tapped his shoulder. He turned only for her to clutch his wrist in her hands. Immediately he tremble as poison spread through his body, before he collapsed to the ground. “Its Toxikita!” A cop shouted, turning around and firing his gun wildly. She ducked behind the poisoned cop before lifting him up as a makeshift shield. She ran at the other cops, reaching for one of her glass bottles dangling on her side. She hurled it at the cops, unleashing a cloud of toxins. The police began to gag and cough as she threw her ‘shield’ at another officer. The two of them fell in a heap, and she ran over, poisoning the one pinned by the poisoned cop. More studs flew the air from their guns, and Toxikita ducked behind a pile of disassembled wheelchairs. She stretched, before reassembling some of the bricks, turning their wheels into a crude shield. Toxikita then sprinted at the police, slamming into them with her shield. As they were staggered she clutched their sleeves, poisoning them too. They went limp, and soon the building was filled with the sound of moaning, from both cop and victims. Toxikita then turned and ran towards some of the injured homeless and the volunteers at the shelter. She grabbed a glass vial and began to work with her power, concocting a paste. She then began to plaster it on their bruises, and they murmured at the touch, even as their yellow bodies began to mend. “Thank you.” “Don’t,” she muttered, looking away as her cheeks blushed green. She moved among the homeless victims, helping their injuries mend. As they recovered she returned her crude shield to the pile of disassembled bricks, before she began to rebuild them into wheelchairs, crutches, and the like. She carried them over to the homeless and disabled, letting them settle back. She suddenly heard a crack, darn it when they broke in they damaged the foundation. She walked out and began to strip down the armored cars, disassembling them into pillars, before planting them inside to secure the building. Finally Toxikita was satisfied and pulled her cloak back over her face and clothes, before beginning to head back outside. “Thank … thank you,” a woman called after her, shivering as she staggered on her crutches, her peg leg still a bit trembling, “it’s … it’s good to have a superhero looking after us.” Toxikita sighed without turning back and stated, “I am not a superhero. Call me a vigilante if you won’t, but don’t kid yourself, I’m not like those kings.” “Not … all of them are wealthy.” “Maybe,” she dismissed, before walking away. She stepped into the street, before walking back to the armored cars. With a twist she pulled off more of the bricks, before assembling them into a crude skateboard. She kicked off and rode across the street, her whole body shaking as the skateboard rattled against the rough ground. She tensed up at the noise, but at least it was better than the clicking. “Me, a superhero?” She laughed bitterly at the thought, turning down another jagged street. Only this side of Chood City was this damaged, the richer parts of town were a lot better maintained, they got new fancy parts to replace the old, even though their oldest parts were only a few years old and still functioned perfectly. And they called their victim’s parasites? The vigilante glared in frustration, before she sighed in an exhausted voice. Toxikita reached under her hood and began to tug at her rubbery green hair, flicking it began so it it would spring back into position. The autistic did this for a few minutes, using the sensation to calm herself down She rolled down the street, kicking periodically to send herself moving forward. Finally she skidded to a halt in front of a sewer hole. She dug the skateboard into the lid, using the board to pry the hole open. The board didn’t even creak or crack, the police had a lot better pieces that the poor of Chood City. It made her want to drop a bomb of Pollutonium on their police station, ruin all of their bricks and force them to feel how the other half lived. But Toxikita didn’t do stuff like that anymore. She hadn’t in about four years. She descended into the sewer, the vigilante was immune to the noxious fumes and fluid that flowed here, and admittedly she liked the sensation of the goopy gunk rubbing against her, felt a bit like moisturizer oozing over her skin. She chucked the skateboard into the gunk, at least she could ruin some of their bricks. Then she began to wade down the sewer, following the toxic burn marks she made made into the walls. Finally she made it to her makeshift home, a small thing cobbled together out of bricks raided from the police and other bullies. She opened the door and walked in, before flopping down on her double p-decker couch. Admittedly she only used the bottom half to sleep and rest, the top she instead used as storage. She did not have the larger amount of space down there. The autistic reached besides her couch, before scooping up some slime. She rubbed the goo against her face, smearing it in as she settled into her home. On the wall was a photo of Adam Acid and Retox from their wedding. Hopefully her old minions were doing well nowadays, it was dangerous for the three of them to interact much, especially since Toxikita was definitely the bigger target. She pulled off her cloak and hood, before folding them nearly on her couch. Then she turned over onto her back, laying flat. She would need to hide for a bit, air until the heat died down. Then when the police began to recover, she would strike again. … Toxikita chopped up an old apple into studs, before picking up a piece and eating it. She went dumpster diving every so often, scavenging bits of food thrown away by restaurants and grocery stories in the richer part of town. The apples weren’t great, but they did their job. As she ate suddenly she became aware of a beeping, one with a horrifically uneven tempo. The autistic vigilante winced at the heat, before recognizing it as her alarm. Someone was trudging through the sewers, and they were close to her home. She stretched and began to head outside, hopefully she wouldn’t have to move her home again, she built it on tractor wheels and a motorcycle, letting her drive it away as needed. Still she hated to move, took weeks for her to figure out exactly where everything was, and it was just stressful in general. She pressed herself around a sewer wall, letting her peer over the edge. Whoever was coming was heading right this way, steadily sounding closer. Dang it did they know where she was? She needed the burn marks to find her way in the sewers, but if someone else had noticed them… Did not sound like a police battalion though, admittedly she was not the best at recognizing people but it sounds like only one set of footsteps. A curious maintained worker? Toxikita sank down, laying down into the goop until she was almost completely submerged. Her body was covered in gunk, letting her blend in. She breathed slowly, her head tilted slightly to look for the source of movement approaching. If it was a maintenance worker, he would be not worth poisoning. But suddenly she was unsure if she remembered to seal the sewer hole behind her, and it was best to be cautious here. As she laid there she spied a flash of pink, a woman was wading through the ooze, her hair was dyed in a mix of pink and blue, and was tied up in a way Toxikita was familiar with. Caila Phoenix. The vigilante tightened, an Ultra Agent, here? But the agency had been disbanded for years? The autistic tried to lay still, though her heart struggled against her chest. Toxikita could take that pencil-pusher no problem, but if the Ultra Agency was still around, and investigating her… It didn’t help matters that Phoenix was admittedly a good martial artists and skilled with a bomb or two. Toxikita had never really had to fight her, she was confident she could take Phoenix, but if the agent could fend her off long enough to contact other agents. As Toxikita looked through the waves of sludge, she realized Phoenix was not wearing an Ultra Agent’s uniform. She was dressed in a brown trench coat, and while she had a gun it was just a pistol, and an old one too. Looked a lot less up to date that the Chood Police Department’s military gear. It could still be a trap, so Toxikita moved slowly, using her hand to drag herself through the gunk gradually. As Phoenix trudged through the sewer her legs created waves in the noxious fluid, which helped mask Toxikita’s movements. Finally Toxikita was right besides Phoenix. With a thrust Toxikita’s hand shot out, grasping Phoenix’s ankle. Phoenix stumbled as the poison traveled up her body, before the woman passed out, going limp in the sewage. Toxikita stood up and flicked her hair, splattering gunk everywhere. She stretched and smirked at the Ultra Agent, before hauling her onto her back. Then the autistic carried her off, headed towards her makeshift home in the sewers. … Caila Phoenix awoke with a groan, her body clammy and covered in sludge. She felt faint, and was propped up against a mismatched wall of bricks. She was sitting on a few bricks too, elevating her body above the gunk that lapped her legs. She started to move only to hear a voice remark, “don’t move around, you need to give time for the antidote to work. Caila looked over to see Toxikita lounging on a double-decker couch, the poisonous villain staring straight at her. “Reinforcements are coming, they will—” “Doubt it, I searched you. You are just a P.I. now,” dismissed Caila, “nice explosives by the way, good to see your skills haven’t dwindled away.” “…” “…What are you going to do with me?” asked Caila, staring up at Toxikita. “Life isn’t all about you, you know,” dismissed Toxikita, “but you know where I am, and you still were hunting for me. Can’t just ignore that.” “So you are gonna corrupt me?” “Yeah let me just turn you as toxic and ruthless as me, how could that go wrong?” “Then what?” “Well it’d be smart if I had just let you die of poison then disassembled you, but I’ve been moving away from that kind of stuff these days. So instead I figure we’ll just talk a bit. It’s not like you Ultra Agents really had a chance to interview one of us before.” “So you just want to villain monologue?” “Something like that,” Toxikita answered, “though I have been moving from that term. First I need to know, did I forgot to seal the manhole?” “Yes.” “Ah click,” sighed Toxikita, “though I’m guessing you were already searching for me?” “You and your henchmen were the only villains to get away. So what’s your plan?” “Ain’t got a plan,” Toxikita stretched, “no scheme, nothing like that. You know it’s funny you left Astor City for me, and not Chood City. This place has been getting worse and worse for ages, would have thought a hero like you would have tried to help the people here.” “Chood has one of the strongest economies, there are new jobs every year…” “And the CEOs pay their workers less and less. There are more people living in poverty than ever, more folks can’t afford homes or even storage crates, and the bulk of minifigures work so many jobs that their parts wear down.” “…Didn’t think a villain would care about that?” “You know, the one time you Ultra Agents caught me and my boys, I didn’t tell you what it was like the day I became Toxikita.” “No, you didn’t.” “First, I’m gonna ask you not to use my old name. I know you Ultra Agents probably figured out my old civilian identity, but it’s not me now. Well, that’s obvious. But if you hadn’t bothered to do any research, I was an environmental scientist, studying the effect pollution had on the planet.” “I know.” “The day AntiMatter sucked me into that vortex, I was having a bad day. I had spent years studying pollution, how it corroded bricks, rubbed off faces, and it was growing. I had estimated we had maybe thirty years before it grew irreversibly out of control. Of course now I know we really had half that back then, but we only figured that out recently. And even then, I could already feel the pressure of a mere thirty year deadline pushing down on me.” “I had spent months trying to get people to begin to transition to cleaner fuels, to pollute less and recycle more. And the average citizen was working as hard on it as they could. But the politicians and CEOs didn’t care, and they caused the most pollution. They could squeeze more money out of the limited fossil fuels in our world, they would rather doom the planet than make slightly less money. After all plenty of them could just flee to Mars if worse came to worse, they wouldn’t be trapped on a dying world like the rest of us.” “I tried fruitlessly to convince them to give a darn, and just I kept getting beaten more and more beaten down. That day I was depressed, defeated, anxious, and hopeless. And that’s when AntiMatter sucked me into that vortex.” “What was it like?” “Despite your agency’s propaganda, it didn’t suddenly make me evil. You can’t just flip a switch and drain someone of ‘good.’ But it did destabilize my body’s chemistry quite a bit. Everything was bleak, no one seemed to give a darn, the world was doomed, and the worst minifigures were going to escape unscathed, I got bitter and self-destructive.” “There was no hope for our world, so I decided to make sure there would be hope for the kings of our world either. I would make them suffer, poison them and our world until all of them were just as sick and corroded as everyone else. Make them regret their apathy and cruelty. I was gonna make every minifigure equal in the face of Armageddon.” “…That’s bad logic, but it … explains some things.” Toxikita nodded, flicking her rubbery hair back, “Oh nowadays I know it was bad logic, I’m not in denial. At the time I was defeated, and wanted to just dump the world in the trash. But I wasn’t just magically turned evil. I take responsibility for my many attempts to poison Astor City.” She reached below her and scooped up some sludge, before massaging it into her face. “When Invizable broke us out, me and my boys skipped town, deciding to lay low for a while. We shared living space here in Chood City, forced Retox and Adam Acid to deal with their unresolved issues. We stuck to the shadows, didn’t pollute anything, kept clean, paid off the cops who saw us, that lasted about a year.” “And then?” “Then one day I was downtown in disguise, doing some shopping, when I stumbled upon a rally being held by Mayor Karup Leeder, then just another CEO in the crumbling city. He was one of those CEOs who had always denied my warnings, called it fake news.” “And at that rally he was … using my image. He was using me as a prop, discrediting my past self’s environmental research because of my villainy, and to spread fear. He used me as evidence that autistics were violent, that people with vibrant hair were freaks and dangerous.” “Yeah, I’ve seen some of that,” Caila nodded. Aside from her dyed hair, she was also autistic too. That I was still loose, and was really the cause of the city crumbling. I hadn’t done anything to the city, that was all his pollution. He rallied Thad City needed stricter laws against undesirables, keep them in their place. He was using me, using my image as just a tool. I hadn’t been tearing down the CEOs and politicians to our level, they were using me to hurt the most vulnerable.” “…I was horrified and ashamed. And I … resolved to not let Karup use me as a pawn like AntiMatter had. That I would stop letting monsters use me to beat down.” “It was too late by then to stop Karup getting elected, and I won’t forget what my misanthropy caused. So I resolved to get healthier, and to stop hurting their victims.” “Just like that?” “Just like that.” “…Then why not get purified? We had the cure—” “It’s not a cure, it’s a regression. I liked being Toxikita, and I did not want to move backwards to be a helpless scientist who couldn’t change the world. I wanted to move forward, and grow. Not be cleansed of the person I had become. And the fact is that the villains who were purified don’t seem all there, they seem hollow, less like a minifigure, more like computers.” “…” “But I made the choice to get better, and the first step was getting some stability. So I studied my toxic powers, you know a lot of medicines are made from poisons, from Ipecacs to anti-venom. I knew chemistry and biology from my helpless past as a scientist, and I was able to synthesize a medication. You see, I had been taking my meds the whole time I had been Toxikita, the only time I didn’t was when you Ultra Agents had me locked up. I wasn’t irresponsible. But my body chemistry had changed, they were no longer that effective on me, my antidepressants didn’t work for one thing.” “… I understand how destabilizing it is to have bad meds. But you know that does not justify what you did as a villain.” “I agree and accept that.” Caila was feeling a bit healthier, but remained sitting down propped against the wall. Finally she said, “I … respect your ownership of your own actions.” Toxikita’s cheeks suddenly blossomed a bright green, and she looked away. “I didn’t do it to impress you agents, you know.” There was a pause before Caila asked, “you have had a number of altercations with the police, every officer has been poisoned by you at least twice. Why?” They are bullies, brutes,” dismissed Toxikita, “you Ultra Agents had thorough training on all you equipment, you were taught never to escalate a fight, and if one of you crossed a line he was fired, just like Lux was. Even as a villain I respected you. But the ChPD, they are barely trained, they use equipment intended for the military or agents that they don’t have experience with, and they use their military gear to respond to everything from loitering to making too much noise. They protect each other too, if a cop disassembled someone for sleeping on a park bench, the rest cover for him, and the cops who try to weed out corruption get thrown off the force. The police are just another gang terrorizing Chood City. “…” “Look at how good the police equipment is, polished bricks, rare parts, flick-fire missiles, solid armor, they are Karup’s private army. Same with the gated communities Karup and his friends live in, not a single brick worn down. Now look at the rest of the city, corroded streets, cracked buildings, shaky foundations, most folks are homeless despite plenty of homes in the rich parts of town. People who had only minor injuries can it afford to replace them, so their bodies just get worse until they break. And just yesterday the police raided the town’s only homeless shelter, disassembled their wheelchairs, taking what little the poor had. There is no justification for that, it’s just evil. A worse evil than I ever was.” Caila breathed slow, trying to betray nothing in her face and said, “they attacked a homeless shelter? Why?” “Doesn’t matter.” “Humor me.” “Look you know as well as I do a lot of folks who are mentally ill or have ‘colorful hair’ end up homeless, especially in Chood City. Few businesses want to hire difficult workers, the ones that have jobs get barely any pay, prevents them from affording housing. Pushes them out to the fringes, the ones who can come here, the ones who can’t sleep on the streets, and then the cops lock them up for loitering and vagrancy. Leaves them with a criminal record, harder to get a job, and gives the minifigures here ‘justification’ to consider all of them crooks at best. All it takes is a excuse and the cops can ravage any shelter they want with little judgement. Just another way the city is oozing with .” Caila coughed at the vulgarity, before saying, “you care a lot about this.” Toxikita blushed again and looked away, before murmuring, “Yeah well, I won’t if they hadn’t used me as a prop. Without permission.” “Of course,” Caila tried not to smile, before settling on another poker face, “but if you are attacking police openly and so often, sending more of them to the hospital every week, that just gives Karup more excuse to call you a monster, and to use you as a prop.” “Yeah well he was doing that when I was just minding my own business,” snapped Toxikita, “He didn’t even have proof I was in the city, just used me as a scapegoat for the corrosion and the grime that coats the streets. If I did nothing he’d keep it up, at least now I am letting the weak know someone gives a darn and I’m costing him and his gang plenty of bricks and money. And any moment they spend searching for me, less chance they can be beaten up the helpless. That’s what they were doing at the homeless shelter, cracking their hands and smudging off their faces.” Caila did not respond to that comment yet, and instead said, “You do sound pretty noble for someone fighting him out of spite.” “Yeah well you’re wrong,” Toxikita looked away, trying not to show her green cheeks, “I just have standards. The world stinks so much that I look better by comparison.” “And why have you told me all this?” “I like to complain about how the world sucks, consider this venting as my therapy.” “Alright. Then what happens now?” “…Still thinking it over,” muttered Toxikita, “can’t risk you telling anyone that I’m down here, I probably should disassemble you.” “Makes sense.” “Agreed.” “You could probably make a poison that would make me corrode to dust.” “Well, no.” “Still I’m sure if you disassemble me and soak me in the sewage my clothes and face will all bleed out, no one could identify me then. Brick me up in the sewer walls, it could be quick.” “That would take too long,” snapped the vigilante. “You are right, what’s your plan then?” “…” Toxikita looked away, her hands clenched. “If I may,” Caila stood up and sat down on the couch besides Toxikita, “I might have a suggestion. If you would be interested.” … Toxikita flicked her rubber hair as Phoenix began to speak. “You know, almost every city has some grime and chewed up bricks, especially the bigger ones. There also tends to be gaps between the poor and the rich, and the police tend to have better equipment that a civilian, getting old equipment from groups like Ultra Agents and the old Mars Mission fleet. But none of them have a gap on the scale of Chood City. It’s possible you could have caused it, you have the power, especially if you have the resources to strengthen your power.” “Humph.” “It doesn’t look like you have the resources to devastate a city, no helicopters or mechs or even henchmen, but you also like the filth, and you could have taken me to a fake lair.” “That what you think?” “No, because I am not an idiot. I did consider it, I have to in my line of work. But there are reasons I came down here alone without alerting the ChPD of my suspicions.” “…Alright.” “I had come to Chood City a few weeks ago, getting evidence. By the time I would get to a crime scene the police had already cleaned everything up, and they aren’t welcome to even a local P.I. Me an outsider with bright hair and my own disabilities, I could feel their contempt for me.” “Yeah they suck.” “Yesterday I got there early, and saw something’s they didn’t want me to see. Cop reinforcements were tearing down the only polished bricks from the shelter, ripping them out. They got violent quick, and well, I’m still pretty good with a fist. After I knocked out most of them, many of them fled, but I caught a rookie. He said you and the gang’s had stolen those bricks from the police, they were just taking what was theirs. They didn’t seem too bothered that tearing it out might collapse the building.” “I know demolitions, so I also know the weaknesses in architecture. I mended the building, and then looked over the homeless there. They were bruised and wounded, but they had already had their wounds treated. Some of them were healthy enough to explain what what you had done for them. They called you their only superhero, if a violent one. And you know, if you were secretly hoarding bricks to corrode the city, it didn’t make sense for you to leave all those parts there, or for you to have reassembled their medical equipment for that matter. And why help treat them, I know they were beaten not poisoned, and either way why would you waste poison on helping them when you could use the stuff to devastate Chood City. The cops’ story didn’t add up, and I trust my eyes and those testimonies to know the truth.” “Great. Bet you were surprised when I poisoned you.” “You only knocked me out.” “Yeah. Still poisoned you.” Phoenix continued, “it was a bit frightening I won’t lie, but since I woke up things have gotten back on track.” “Still might disassemble you.” “Of course. Or, we could also let each other go?” “Pardon?” “You could let me go, move your home too if you feel you need to, and I would just not tell anyone what I heard down here, say this was a false lead, maybe even encourage the newer agencies not to look too much into their affairs.” “You are just gonna let a vigilante loose in this city? Not to mention one who regularly attacks law enforcement? Doesn’t sound like something an Ultra Agent should do. More like Lux.” “You don’t have to keep up the tough girl act constantly you know? I already know you can be dangerous when you want to be.” “I could crush you.” “Of course. But this city is broken, the laws have been twisted to hurt the most vulnerable, and the worst minifigures become cops. It’s like if AntiMatter’s plan had succeeded in Astor City, only there are still plenty of victims to be terrorized. In a place where evil is law, I think … you might just have to have a rule breaker to bring hope to the people.” “…I am not gonna just trust you. That would be stupid.” “I know. But if a former Ultra Agent helps dismiss the claims you are damaging Chood City—” “Won’t work, Karup owns the news stations.” “Yeah in this city. But other cities like Astor City could listen, and they could start to put the pressure on Chood City. Maybe even get some activists to come in to try and help.” “…Yeah well when they see me they’ll call you a liar.” “Let me worry about that. If I can use what power I still have to help, I should.” “…You know if you were a detective I wouldn’t even consider it.” “Lucky I am not then.” “…Well I suppose I could easily hunt you down and crush you if you double-crossed me,” Toxikita muttered, “and even if you rat on me, I can relocate somewhere else and make the cops waste their time looking here. And you are probably too much of a goody two-shoes to lie.” “Card-carrying for the last five years.” “…If you do double-cross me I will smear off her face until you can’t speak or even breathe, got that? No explanation, just smudging off your face.” “Understood. And even if I beat you, your boys would hunt me down and free you anyway.” “Fine then. You heard anything about them?” “Yeah Jack Fury ran into them about two years ago, rubbing a bank. Retox was calling the shots, Jack said he seemed pretty frustrated with Acid, but less vicious.” “Imagine that.” “There is one thing though. Jack detonated a special grenade to purify them. They were caught in the blast, but it didn’t work. They were immune. Now neither of them are smart enough to inoculate themselves against the tech, but you might just be.” “Yeah, I might just be.“ “How did you do it?” “…It was in the first year I was in Chood City. Corrupted a bunch of rats, experimented on them with poisons and then purified them. Gave the boys their powers didn’t I? After long enough I could inoculate the rats, then did it to the boys and then me.” “Appreciate you didn’t experiment on people.” “I was laying low at the time, new super villains, disappearances, or people getting brain damage would only have attracted attention,” Toxikita dismissed, her cheeks still flushed green, “speaking of brain damage, how is that old professor doing?” “Dr. Brainstein is still recovering from being purified,” Phoenix looked away and Toxikita smirked a little, “he’s as smart as ever, but he now struggles to make decisions, even simple ones like what to eat for breakfast or what sock to put on first.” “You can see why I don’t want to go back. Besides I feel a lot better about myself since becoming Toxikita, and not that helpless damsel. Besides the name is much better. And don’t you dare say my name sounds ridiculous, Ms. Phoenix.” “Wasn’t going to,” the P.I. answered, “I know very well what it is to chose your own name. No one is just born Caila Phoenix. But you know, the doctor still does research, groundbreaking too. For the past few years he has been studying other dimensions, worlds of minifigures like us but different. Not aliens like the few surviving Martians or the alien fleet who nearly wiped them out, more like different versions of our world.” “Not sure how that’s groundbreaking or even relevant. Got enough problems here.” “When in one dimension there is a woman called Tox, who looks a lot like you and she also has poisonous abilities. She’s different in some ways, she inherited her poison powers and she was never a super villain, but I could still see bits of you in her. Last we saw her she had become a part of a resistant movement, fighting against an evil warlord who had conquered a great city and ruled by fear. It wasn’t even her city, she just came when the people needed her.” “…Yeah well I’m not like that.” “I think you are.” “Well thanks,” muttered Toxikita, “in how many dimensions am I a remorseless super villain?” “Many,” Phoenix said with a smile that made Toxikita blush at how genuine it was, “Tox doesn’t define you, just shows one way you could be. Like you said being good was your own choice, she just taught us that you could make that choice if you wanted to.” “Yeah well she was never a super villain.” “Doesn’t mean she didn’t grow from when we first watched her.” “Still, like you said she doesn’t define me, I chose to spite Karup and his cronies. Anyway I need to move my house, so I think you should get going.” “Alright,” Phoenix stood back up, before saying, “you know, if you ever need some help, I can do some investigating, help you find weaknesses in Mayor Karup’s reign.” “Don’t trust you like that. But thanks, I guess.” As Phoenix walked to the door Toxikita muttered something. “What was that?” “Just, your hair blends together in the back, looks purple.” “Yeah I think the sewage smeared my hair into a big mess.” “…Purple looks good on you,” Toxikita’s cheeks were a solid green, “Maybe, dye your hair purple more often, Caila.” “Sure, always looking to reinvent myself,” Caila smiled before walking out of the door and back through the sewers, her feet wading through the gunk. Toxikita waited until the door closed, before slapping her cheek. “Easy there,” she muttered, “she’s a former Ultra Agent, you’re a vigilante at best. It wouldn’t work.” She would wait a bit longer, then she should drive her house elsewhere in the sewers. She … she still couldn’t trust Caila, of course she couldn’t. But it … she wasn't great at reading people but it felt like the P.I. might trust her, at least a little. And that idea made the vigilante’s chest squirm. Though it … it wasn’t exactly a bad feeling either.

Just for reference, I was picturing Ka’s acid as less potent than a Lehvak’s, since those bugs can freaking melt protosteel, and that seems super unbalanced. Also that maybe her acid glows like phosphorus paint, because she’s part Av-Matoran? It’s not charged with elemental light energy though, it just glows. It wouldn’t be useful against shadow. Edit: Dang I might have to go back and reread Varxii’s scenes, @That Matoran with a Vahithat was a good moment.

OOC: let me know if anything about Ka or Kanohi needs adjusting IC Kanohi - the Coliseum Kanohi was at the fiftieth floor of the archives, and from here he could see the surrounding metropolis well. Or at least, what was left of it. Smoke billowed up until the sky blackened, skyscrapers cracked and crumbled, it was … it was a cataclysm. He … he couldn’t abandon this city, the Matoran. But he couldn’t abandon the Taku Team either. But Knichou’s words reached him, and he made a decision, “I … I trust in Toa Stannis. I have to go. But tell him, tell him that an island chain will flood, the shan’t towns destroyed. And there is a red banner. I … maybe he would know what it means.” And with a hook of a ball of gravity he hurled away, soaring across the sides of the Coliseum. If his optics could cry, he would be weeping. He … he hated to abandon this group. But he had a duty, and he had to help the Matoran. And this was a team of mighty Toa and a Nynrah Ghost. If anyone could complete it, they could, whether or not he was there. He couldn’t give much help to such mighty heroes. But to the less powerful, he could help there. With a twist Kanohi spotted a skyscraper cracking as Matoran ran below. With a twist he fired his regeneration disk, but as he was in motion the disk started to go wild. He closed his eyes, and the Ga-Metru disk shifted around, striking the tower. The power of regeneration seeped into the building, mending some of its damages. Not enough to prevent it from collapsing, but enough to slow its destruction so the people below could flee. IC Ka - Onu-Metru As the army of the league marched into the Archives, one of the soldiers startled as his Lightstone lit up a a terrible Rahi not unlike a rotting carcass covered in strange rubbery organic growths. He stumbled back, thumping against a stasis pod. There was a hiss as the pod behind him opened, and he turned around as a terrible mechanical beast, squat and yellow like pus. The creature snapped her claws at him, acid drooling from the pincers, and then spoke in a strange empty voice that was more like gears grinding than actual words.“Awakening, processing… You … what have you done?”

Since I might have a new character, I have to ask, how do you change font color on mobile? Because I’m going to need to be able to distinguish between Kanohi and the new character. (Ideally I would want to use green)

You know what, I’m social isolating, might as well try a new character to help pass the time. Name: Ka Species: Bohrok/Matoran hybrid Faction: Metru-Nui Brief Description: A strange yellow bulky creature, something not in like a Matoran but with strange insectoid features like large shield-like pincers and a bloated torso, her head fused to her torso, and a Krana Bo held in her head. Background/Occupation: Ages ago, an Av-Matoran had the destiny to transform into a Bohrok, in particular Lehvak. However as she began to transform a strange fluid splashed into her, locking her in mid transformation. Whether Energized Protodermis, Pit Mutagen, or something else entirely, she became a hybrid of Bohrok and Matoran, her natural gold armor and the green of a Lehvak merging into a pale yellow. She was still teleported into the Archives, but did not fall into sleep, instead wandering about in confusion. Because of her appearance and the sense of “wrongness” she emits, Matoran ran from her in terror, leaving her bitter. She preferred to live on her own, hiding far from the gaze of Matoran. She was eventually caught and put in stasis by a group of terrified Onu-Matoran, where she has slept for millennia. But as the invasion begins, she awakens from her slumber… Flaws: Most of the time she has free will, but if ever given an order by the swarm, she must fight the urge to obey. Likewise she is monstrous and considered little more than a Rahi by most Matoran, and bitterness leaves her to want to avoid all contact with other people. Powers: Able to create a very corrosive acid and to use Krana, her Krana Bo allows her to see in the dark, and thus navigate the darkness of the Archives.

OOC: apparently that’s a yes IC Kanohi - the Coliseum Kanohi grappled his way across the towering center of Metru-Nui, swerving around the curving structure like a snake encircling it’s prey. And then he spotted something in a room close to the gardens on a balcony. He hooked himself off the side of a nearby part of building, peering in. ”Mr. Ghost,” he activated the radio in his mask, “I see … Turaga Dume, and … I think there are four Toa here, another Turaga, a Matoran, and a giant person. Maybe others too, I can’t see everything. I think … I believe Turaga Dume has got a disk, can’t see the level, but it might be a Great Disk. Okay, the room is in…” As he gave the rough description of where the room was, Kanohi winced at the sound of explosions in the distance. He … he needed to help.

OOC: @BULiKdoes Kanohi’s upgraded mask now had a short range radio built into it? That way he can contact the group with what he finds? Or was there anyone way he was meant to contact them? IC Kanohi - the Taku Kanohi swallowed, feeling a bit lightheaded. Not from grappling around, he was used to more violent lurching but … he felt like he had misspoken. He … he knew the Matoran had to be protected, that was the right thing to do. But he … he didn’t want to bail on the Toa of Knichou. It was … he felt like one of the fabled Kaita, one strained to the point that they were about to split into three parts. Finally he squeaked out, “I-I-I will look for Turaga Dume‘s Office.” He … he could do that first at least, whether or not Dume was misguided, he was a Turaga, and the leader of Metru-Nui. And the device, it was important. It was the least he could do for the Toa and the Nynrah Ghost Knichou. He stowed away his disk launcher, he … he would only scare folks with it drawn. With a leap he lunged off the Taku, his armor jingling as the wind rustled them. With a blast he fired a sphere of gravity at the Coliseum, pulling him towards it in a rush of force. He then fired from his other hand, letting him swing in motion. He hurled across the side of the Coliseum, traversing along the walls and windows like some sort of hyperactive Fikou. His heartlight flickered underneath his armor, a frantic beacon as he searched for the office of the Turaga.

IC Kanohi - the Taku The small Fe-Matoran looked at the city below, as it shattered and broke like clumps of sand against the tide. Kanohi swallowed, he had to do something, at least try to help. He … what was the point of all of this if the Matoran were lost? They were the Heart of Metru-Nui, the soul of the universes. He … he had a duty. To his people. He rubbed his Hau underneath the layers of broken masks he wore. His disks couldn’t fly far, they weren’t from Le-Metru. But up here, if he arced them, and with the control a Ga-Metru disk gave him… He pulled out his disk launcher, with his grappling guns now merged with his arms, he could hold the weapon while he grappled around. He began to hook and fling himself around the airship, searching the battlefield below for any Matoran and Toa at risk from the crumbling terrain and collapsing buildings. He would try to help them from above, as best that he could manage.

IC Kanohi - the Taku Kanohi barely noticed Knichou at first, his heartlight a blur of flashing. What … what had he just seen? Those islands, that red flag, the flood, what did it mean? Was … was his mind finally breaking down? And then he felt cold metal squirm into his arms, followed swiftly by squirming into his face. The Fe-Matoran stumbled in shock, as displays flicked in his sight, and his arms settled. He panted, catching Knichou’s words. Right this … this was more important. The fate of Metru Nui and the Matoran depended on what happened here this day Later he could ask Toa Stannis for advice, maybe that Toa of Psionics too. Swallowing he fitted in the firing pins, and moved his arms. His grappling guns felt … lighter, more responsive, and his mask seemed to show where to aim. It was … this was the power of a Nynrah Ghost - the best of the Fe-Matoran. The best of the Matoran crafters. Humbled, he was suddenly aware of … thumping? Knichou’s words flashed in his mind, and he grappled his way outside of the ship, he should get some practice in. He grappled around the airship, jerking and stumbling, it was … very responsive, but less violent. He grappled back and forth like a Brakas in the trees, glancing down at the— The city was … in ruins. He could only see so far, but his perch on the top of the airship gave him quite the view as Karzahni came to Metru-Nui. Fires breaking out, buildings toppling, Matoran getting mowed down by strange weapons, it was a bloodbath. So much liquid Protodermis spilled from attackers and defenders alike that it pooled into mock lakes. Toa and Vahki were struggling to evacuate Matoran to safety, some Matoran themselves were hurling disks of freezing, weaken, and reconstruct at random as they fled, trying to take down at least a few of the Leaguers. It … it was too late. He had failed Metru-Nui and the Matoran. The end had come. He … he had to do something. He took a deep breath he returned to the airship’s entrance and called out to the passengers of the Taku, “the city is … the invasion has come. It’s … it’s worse than Okoto. So many lives, so many Matoran … I … I think I should try to help the Matoran get to safety. I … Mr. Ghost, Toa Nale, Toa Stannis, I … we can’t let the city burn. If … if the city must burn we must at least save the Matoran, take them to safety.” He swallowed, his whole body quivering, “if you need me to, I will scout the Coliseum, but I-I think I have to try to help our people get to safety. At least try. Hopefully that makes sense.”

You thought it was Kanohi, but it was I - Dece!

OOC: wall of text below, permission give by @Silvan Havento make the trade, and from @Unreliable Narratorfor the plot point. also sorry for the text being weird, copied this from a word doc and it went weird. IC Kanohi - the Taku The Fe-Matoran nodded as he handed over his disk and took the speed disk in his hands. He bowed, hands wringing as he descended into the room Knichou described. He pulled out the torch he had used to mend the hull, and stared at it. It … it should work. Right? Kanohi swallowed, looking down at the speed disk, and the tool in his opposite hand. He … he had done some good things recently, fixed the statue, mended the hull, fixed that levitation engines, and the latter used disks. He … he could do this. Just … just move slowly, carefully. But not too slow. Just slow enough. He felt his hands tremble, no this … this is what caused him to break so many masks. He … he used to be able to make simple masks, but the fear, the anxiety, his hands couldn’t be steady, his mind became overwhelmed, and inevitable the disks snapped apart. But he … he couldn’t break this disk, too much was at stake. The Fe-Matoran rubbed his head, okay, think. Think back to Okoto and Turaga Bomahri’s wisdom. Small tasks, easily manga or tasks. But this task was simple, it would be simple for anyone, anyone but him at least. His anxiety was all consuming, where was it coming from? He had done good, fixing the hull… He was moving when he mended the hull, grappling around it. And … and at the ti,e he just been stressed by the Taku Team and the newcomers possibly fighting, and then when he went to work polishing off the hull he felt better. It was a simple manageable task, but could the movement have helped? And at the end of patrol after a stressful day, he tended to feel better? All living things needed fuel to live, could his anxiety be the same? If he tired, and kept focusing on small reachable goals… He paced around the room for a time, his fingers drummed against the air, listening to the flatter of his metal feet and jingling armor. The sounds reminded him of the wind blowing through Fe-Koro’s chimes, a reminder to take shelter from the winds that whipped around the village. The winds weren’t as common in Bo-Wahi, the trees broke up the air currents. Sometimes the metal huts began to erode, but Toa Fehagah always managed to mend them, she knew how to grow the iron walls like a thicket, weaving them together with little metal flowers blooming. She spent plenty of time exploring Bo-Wahi, trained under Bomahri when he was still a Toa. His mind was wandering. Kanohi sat down, and began to work. Sparks danced from his welding torch like spores in Bo-Wahi, twirling on the wind. His hands moved with his thoughts distracted, moving on some old instinct. A mediocre instinct, one with little skill, but skill enough. It was skill enough. Right? He … he wasn’t utterly useless, focus on his achievements. He … he fixed a statue, that anyone could have fixed with a regeneration disk. But he fixed the hull, as poorly and sloppily as possible, shaming the Nynrah Ghost. B-but the engine, he only fixed one. His hands trembled at his racing thoughts, his heartlight flickering. Just … just work slow. Steady, steady, simple tasks. And then finally Kanohi collapsed, panting, his metabolism like a bioquake. But in his hand he clutched the finished firing pin. He lay there for a time, hyperventilating, exhausted. Still he … he had finished it. And he could keep trying these techniques, small tasks, draining his anxious energy, and he … he had been distracted by wandering thoughts. Maybe he could use that in the future, listen to music, or a recording of a speech of Stannis. Something like that. He bowed his head and thanked Mata-Nui for helping steady his hands, before shakily stumbling out, handing the firing pin to Knichou. And then Kanohi’s mind exploded. Not with the violent shockwave and force of a Toa of Fire going Nova, but like a dam had ruptured and now a tidal wave was slamming into a small Koro. Like Fe-Koro. He clutched his head, his eyes shut tight enough to shatter. The world vanished for Kanohi, shards of glass erupting from his eyes. He stumbled backwards, to see the shards of glass drifting in the void. As if a playful Garai user was making them dance. He stared and the shards bumbled and struck each other, with each collision green sparks striking between them. Until before his eyes the image had merged into a small chain of islands on the ocean. Kanohi … his hands moved on its own, reaching out towards the island. As his hands extended the image rippled, like the fumes of the Great Furnace. Before Kanohi’s gaze he could see waves slamming into the islands, small huts pounded by the ocean. The water drew higher and higher, smothering the shanty-towns on the coast as a dying flame. The Fe-Matoran felt his heartlight beat as a lighthouse, and his hands shot out, trying to push away the waves, shove the water aside. But the water slipped through his fingers, forcing his hands open. His optics shook in horror, he kept trying, but water was beyond him. He could only look as a marble of water spread across the islands like an infected mask, until the last town was pulverized into powder. As that town was shredded a solitary crimson flag was uprooted from the force, and slammed straight into his eyes, coiling around his head. Kanohi clawed at his face, struggling to get the banner off— And then the flag was gone. The islands were gone. The town were gone. And Kanohi was back in Metru-Nui, his eyes unmanaged but trembling, and his fingers clutching at his head like a Po-Matoran hanging off a a tree branch, lost in an environment not his own.

I wasn’t going to post this one yet, but since the world is in quarantine I felt like I might as well share a story so folks have something to read. This story was inspired by … kind of a canon alternate universe, but not really. I was hit with inspiration by the vision Jaller experiences in Bionicle Legends: Dark Destiny, the world where he did not sacrifice himself for Takua. Makuta over, the Matoran enslaved, one thousand years later the Turaga are killed in an attempted assassination, and Jaller and Hahli are broken servants of the Makuta. Dark times. Now that vision … doesn’t exactly gel with the canon. I’m not sure Makuta would wait over a thousand years ruling the isle of Mata-Nui, or kill the Toa Nuva, not when he would know that Mata-Nui would die soon after MoL. Karzahni visions aren’t always accurate, so I’m not surprised it may have some continuity issues. So I used that vision as the basis for this story, but made some adjustments and changes as I plotted it. I have other ideas for this AU, Versions of the Toa Inika, someone using the Vahki with the willpower to use its full power, what really happened to the Toa Nuva, just rough ideas I haven’t really polished yet. Maybe they will appear as either an epic or a few short stories, not sure which, but leaning towards the latter. Also this story features my OC Kanohi, because I like him, though Macku has a bigger role in the story. Anyway without further ado, here is the Company of Cowards. … There was no dawn through this storm, the black clouds reigned above as they hurled their weapons down like a swarm of hornets. The rain was a barrage of arrows, thunder was the battering ram, and lightning had all the force of a ballista. Nature itself was tearing at the makeshift raft, striving to destroy it in an unnatural fury. The boat was made of everything they could find, parts were scavenged from the huts of Ga-Koro, others from their boats, others from trees of Le-Wahi, even the six Toa Canisters were used to build the craft. It was held-together more through prayer than the vines and ropes that lashed around it. Seaweed was plastered across its sides, until it looked more like a particularly large clump of algae than a ship. Shivering in the storm were thirty seven Matoran, all hiding underneath tarps of seaweed. Their metal frames were blasted with saltwater, only the Ga-Matoran and Ko-Matoran braced the weather with any real resistance, all the others struggled each to stay conscious, their heartlights faint. Only their heartlights and eyes glowed, no other light was lit in this ship as it plunged through darkness, Most of them were rowing, others adjusted the crude rudders to steer through the endless ocean that encompassed their world. And a few Matoran peered out through gaps in the seaweed canopy with spyglasses, daring to pry into the skies about. “Rahkshi,” a faint voice managed, pointing to the port side of the boat. Macku held up her finger for silence, before squeezing under the canvas of kelp to stand besides him. The Ga-Matoran held out her spyglass in the direction that he pointed, even as she unholstered a throwing disk from her back. Up through the lens of her telescope, Macku could see three reptilian shapes streaking through the sky. Each had sharp spines jetting out of their hunched-back, and their heads were all but serpentine. Each held a double-sided staff in their claws, which they swung and gestured with periodically. Their armor was a vibrant gold, almost mocking the memory of the Avohkii. She tensed up as the thought of that Mask, she had only seen it once, seven years ago. During the last Kolhii Match, when it fell out of the Chronicler’s bag, illuminating Jaller with light. Turaga Nokama had translated it, revealing it was the Mask of Light, heralding the arrival of a seventh Toa. But a seventh Toa never appeared, and the island of Mata-Nui was enslaved by the Makuta. And now she and all the other Matoran who could were fleeing their homes, abandoning their sisters and brothers to their horrible fate. Cowards. Just like Jaller. The Ga-Matoran swallowed, holstering her disk. “Spread the word to keep quiet, Tamaru,” she urged the Le-Matoran, and he nodded. They might be cowards, but there was no way they could win a fight with three Rahkshi. They were just … Matoran. Macku pressed her way back through the bowels of the ship, crouching low to not disturb the vessel’s disguise. Finally she squeezed over to Hewkii, Hafu, and Kanohi. The first two brandished a throwing disk in one hand and a Kolhii staff in the other, standing guard. Kanohi meanwhile was huddled low to the ground, staring deeply into his lighter. He was covered in wooden masks carved in the shape of Ruru, using them for armor. Besides him were three objects, the first was Turaga Whenua’s Drill Staff, the second was a Volo Lutu Launcher; last of its kind. And then besides the Turaga’s Badge of Office was something wrapped tightly in canvas and cushioned atop a pillow. Most Matoran did not know what it was, but Macku knew all too well what lay underneath it. “Three Rahkshi are on the port side,” Macku whispered, “I don’t think they have spotted us yet, but I’ve told Tamaru to pass the word to keep quiet.” “Karzahni,” sighed Hewkii, “we are tens of miles away from Mata-Nui, how did they find us?” “The Makuta’s reach is great,” answered Kanohi, “but he has not found us yet. All he knows is where we might be headed.” “And this other land, there are Matoran there?” “Many Matoran, though their bodies are weak, like ours used to be. I think between me and Nuparu we could upgraded their bodies too.” “And are there Toa? Not false Toa like Vezok and Zaktan, real Toa. Heroes.” “There … may be Toa, I see two strange beings, titanic in size, both wearing masks and brandishing powerful weapons. One is stout with armor of red and silver, the other is lean and is plated in gold and silver. I fear they are at odds however.” “Are they strong enough to challenge the Makuta?” Macku interrupted. “My visions are rarely easy to understand,” answered Kanohi, “I understand your frustration. To be blindsided by this tragedy, it is … humbling.” “To say the least,” muttered Macku. “Well, it’s not all hopeless, Macku,” Hewkii huffed and forced a grin, “we’ve smuggled some of our brothers and sisters to safety.” “Yes, until the Makuta decides to track us down,” she shook her head, before her face reddened and she added, “still, you’re right, we’ll probably have the Makuta dead in days and soon enough we’ll be after the seventh Toa again. She contorted her face into a smile beneath her mask. “Macku, you don’t need to hide your fears with me,” Hewkii said quietly, before cracking a more genuine grin, “and it looks like the effort is hurting you.” “True enough,” she shook her head, her smile not quite as forced now. “Excuse me,” a slow voice said. Macku turned to see Kapura, his crimson body covered in a thick cloak. The Ta-Matoran spoke like the slow approach of a glacier, even as his body trembled from the frigid cold, “the Rahkshi have diverted course … to the west.” “Then have they missed us then?” Hafu blurted out with a grin as big as the ocean. “…I think so,” answered Kanohi as he stared into the fire, “keep everyone quiet for now, but I think they are heading elsewhere.” “You are sure?” “Give me a moment to focus,” he said, gazing into the flames, “it’s not easy to steer my power enough to see what I want to know. Kapura, Macku; thank you for your messages.” “It’s the least we can do,” Macku sighed, sitting down, “I should return to my watch, keep an eye on the Rahkshi.” “What color were they?” Kanohi asked suddenly. “Golden, like the Avohkii.” “Before the Toa Nuva were overwhelmed, Turaga Vakama confided in me the types of Rahkshi. I believe the three of them would be Rahkshi of Weather Control, this storm is their work.” “They can even twist nature against us.” “Yes. Oh, sorry, I was thinking out loud. I … I can see nothing, but I will stick to my fire. For the meantime, watch the storm, and be careful leaving the ship. Macku, have your Ga-Matoran forage seaweed when they can, I’ll drill a hole in the ship to dive from.” Macku nodded, “I will pass it alone.” “And I will pass along your orders,” Kapura interrupted. Macku turned to look at him, but he had already vanished into the recesses of the ship. … Kanohi could see Vakama screaming, the Turaga being blasted by the power of fear. The manifestation of raw terror smothered him, as a voice snarled. “The Mask. Where did your pupil hide the Mask?” The waves of gaseous fear blotted out the stars, snuffing them out as Kanohi stumbled in the dark. And then he felt water splash into his face. He looked down to see a Ga-Matoran flailing in the rocky ocean below him, her leg engulfed by a Takea, the shark dragging her down— “Kanohi?” The autistic Matoran lurched away from his lighter, spinning to his feet and thrusting Whenua’s Drill Staff behind him. His optics darted around as the drill whirled. No one was there. And then he spotted Kapura, standing besides him. “You had a vision.” “Yes,” Kanohi admitted, “a Ga-Matoran drowning, a Takea attacking her. I couldn’t tell who she was, it was hard to see.” The starlight outside was all but extinguished, the only light came from the blasts of lightning striking the ocean.” “It may be happening.” “Karzahni. Who?” “Macku has not returned, Hewkii is considering diving after her.” Kanohi nodded, handing over the Drill Staff. “If you have to, shatter it.” “Yes.” Kanohi crouched and made his way through the ship, his Volo Lutu Launcher already back in his hands. It was meant for the jungles of Le-Wahi, but he had made it waterproof, at least as best he could. There, peering over the hole was Hewkii, his hands squeezing his spear until it nearly snapped in half. The hole had been drill in only a few hours ago, the rim bent upward as water splashed inside the boat. Seaweed lay stacked in mounds in this chamber, sloppy and wet. “Move,” said Kanohi, as he pulled out a bundle from his pack. “Please, just … bring her back.” Kanohi nodded and dived in, sinking into the water. With a whip of the cloth he uncovered the Lightstone, illuminating the darkness of the stormy sea. Clutching it in one hand he swam through the gloom, searching for any traces. He was no Ga-Matoran, he couldn’t hold his breath for long. He would have to hurry. … Macku moved her hands towards the object, formerly lost to the waves. It … it looked like a curved blade, a similar shade of silver to the Toa Nuva’s weapons. But it was small, seemingly built for a Matoran’s use than a Toa or a Turaga. As she touched it it radiated light, and a mild shock of electricity zapped her hand. She recoiled, her hand sore, what … what kind of Matoran tool has that kind of power? This could be useful. She grabbed the seaweed from her pack, and wrapped some of it around her hand. She reached over, grasping the tool, it singed the plant fibers but they held. Strange, was it damaged by the erosion of the sea? How long had it been here? As she held the blade in front of her, through its sparks she spotted something swimming through the gloom. She immediately kicked off the rocky patch and swam away, heading back towards the ship. The water curved behind her, something huge was getting closer, shoving aside the ocean like blades of grass. Macku swallowed and turned around, just in time for her blade to illuminate a Takea’s jaws, the teeth glinting from the electricity. She stared in horror just … not responding, as the Takea chomped down on her leg. Somehow she was numb to it, the teeth pierced her leg and she felt nothing. She just stared there. Then suddenly the water rippled, and a Matoran slammed into the Takea. The shark released her, and she drifted through the water, bubbles popping out from under her mask, her eyes motionless. … Kanohi wasn’t sure if Macku was already dead, but he couldn’t dwell on that much, ramming into the shark had staggered him, he had almost released his breath. He swerved in the water and fired a sphere of gravity besides Macku, and with a flurry of bubbles he flew besides her. Her heartlight was still lit, she was still alive. He grabbed her hand and squeezed, trying to help her store, and she almost strangled his fingers. He flinched, before feeling the ocean bend behind him. With a twist of his wrist he fired his Volo Lutu Launcher again, and grappled out of the Takea’s jaws with Macku hanging behind him. He winced at the strain dragging her weight behind him, but he held on. He was … he was different, he could endure it. Kanohi fired his Volo Lutu Launcher over and over, grappling across the ocean floor. Up ahead he could see the hole in the ship, they were almost there. He could feel his head burn from lack of air, not literally but metaphorically. He … he did not have much longer to make it through the water. Then with a rip Macku slipped out of his hands, throwing him off course. He sailed past the hole, struggling to right himself. He … he needed to get her. Finally he hooked something and went flying, before flying up back into the ship. He panted as fresh air filled his lungs, his hands trembling. He swallowed, Hewkii was shouting at him, but his words were utterly unintelligible. “Going back,” Kanohi managed to say, before diving back underwater. He grappled down to the seabed, before using the Lightstone to search for Macku. Through the gloom he spied a flickering light, she was standing up shaking, some tool in her hand flashing while the Takea swam around towards her. He grappled at her, hand outstretched. … Macku stared up at the shark, it’s jaws were nothing like a Rahkshi, but in its rage and aggression, she could see a resemblance. She blankly looked at it, her hand trembling. She used to be in the Chronicler’s Company, she was a great Matoran, she broke the blockade to get help when Ga-Kori was overrun. She defended the Toa themselves when they descended into Kini-Nui. She was … she used to be strong. But now … she felt like a Turahk was blasting her with raw fear, until her servos and joints couldn’t move. No matter how much she wanted to. The Takea barreled down on her, before Kanohi slammed into it again. He knocked the shark off course, missing her and smacking into rock. Macku stared as the shark shook itself off before swimming away from her, now pursuing the Po-Matoran. Macku’s optics followed after Kanohi, his Lightstone illuminating his movements. He grappled again and again across the jagged seabed, the shark gaining on him, its jaws opening up to engulf him. The Ga-Matoran she … she couldn’t let him get eaten. He was a hero. He had protected Mata-Nui long before the Toa landed on their shores, rescued Matoran from dangerous beasts. She … she couldn’t let him die. The Matoran would need him. Look at her. Weak, cowardly. She belonged in Karzahni, with the rest of the failures. Then suddenly she felt a hand grasp hers, and a familiar Mask of Speed greeted her. Hewkii. She hung to his hand tight, and he squeezed back equally hard. His hand seemed to speak in her hand, not with words but with feeling. You are not alone. She felt her heartlight tremble as she stumbled upright, getting a mild shock from her blade, as a Hewkii grasped her hand too. Then with a shove they swam at the Takea, Macku took the lead, she was a better swimmer after all. With a thrust she slammed the electric blade into the shark, and sparks ignited the ocean like a thousand heartlights. The shark gurgled out bubbles, and then with a powerful swish of its tail it turned and swam away into the ocean. Macku released the blade, which Hewkii caught. Trembling she grabbed Kanohi’s Volo Lutu Launchet of his hand, he barely fought her, woozy. She grabbed his hand and Hewkii grabbed his other, but not before pocketing his Lightstone. With a squeeze of the trigger she hooked the hole of the ship, and the three of them grappled into the watercraft. With strain Hewkii threw first Macku, then Kanohi inside the ship, before climbing inside the crude vessel himself. The three of them laid there panting, heaving as a few Matoran looked over them. Finally Hewkii stumbled upright with his spear for balance, and began to speak. Not that Macku could hear his words, she was numb to the world around her. She lay there limp and exhausted, before a Hewkii crouched besides her. He spoke to her and she stared up at him, unable to process his language. A Ga-Matoran bent over her, looking at her leg with a shaking head. “What’s wrong?” asked Macku, though she couldn’t hear her voice. What could be wrong with her leg, she couldn’t even feel it? … Macku slammed her makeshift crutches down, swinging her body around on her good leg. She lumbered through the gloom, with a Hewkii following her, his arms outstretched. “I can handle this much,” she said shakily. “I know. But you don’t have to, alone at least.” She sighed, “I know. Thank you.” “Hey, you Ga-Matoran value Unity most of the Three Virtues, if anything I learned it from you.” “Po-Matoran treasure Unity highly too.” You just treasure Duty more than I ever could. The two of them made their way to Kanohi, who was sitting down, Drill Staff at the ready. At his feet was the electro-blade, partly dissected. “Any luck understanding this weapon yet?” “Not really, the technology behind it is incredible, beyond anything on Mata-Nui, save the Bohrok and Boxers. Nuparu has made progress though. It must be from Voya-Nui. I … in my visions of the island I have seen Matoran with strange but powerful weapons, it must be one of theirs.” “Then we are close?” “Maybe. More importantly, the storm is dwindling, and I have had another vision. The Rahkshi have stopped searching these waters, for the moment at least?” “Really? What … what did you see?” Macku briefly couldn’t see the glow of her heartlight, too stunned for it to flicker. “From what I could understand they spotted a drifting patch of seaweed with Takea feasting on fish inside. I think they believed we perished and that was the wreckage of our craft. Again, we should lay low for a time, avoid fishing or repairing the hull, but I think we might have escaped.” Hewkii practically tackled Macku in relief, and she embraced him too, the two Matoran squeezing each other in a whirl of clinking armor. Their bodies almost seemed to intertwine with each other. Then finally they pulled back with a nod, and Macku said, “I should resume searching the skies, this time keep watch over him, alright?” “Of course,” nodded Hewkii, saluting her, and slamming his throwing disk into his forehead in the process. She laughed as he winced from the blow, and he blushed too. “I will go to Tamaru,” Kapura added slowly, “inform him of your vision.” Macku startled at his voice, she hadn’t even known he was there. “Of course—” Kanohi began to say, but Kapura was already gone. Macku shook her head at her fellow’s strange speed, before ducking under a beam and squeezing back through the dank ship. Her metal feet splashed against the floorboard drenched in saltwater and slime, puddles sloshing back and forth as the craft swayed from the dissipating storm. … By the fifth week of travel the Matoran had voted and had decided to name their ship the Voya-Suva; the Voyage Shrine. It seemed fitting, as they carried the prayers of the Matoran with them on this long journey, and Kanohi had had a prophecy claiming the island they sought to be named Voya-Nui. “What do you think?” asked Hewkii as Macku surfaced. She carried a net in her hands, full of seaweed to be ripped up into fibers. Hewkii held a net too, hauling in fish for the Matoran to eat. Turaga Vakama had empowered Kanohi’s lighter with some of his elemental power, easily enough to cook the fish the Matoran caught on their journey. “About what?” She asked. Her crutches lay besides Hewkii, her leg had ultimately needed to be amputated, and they did not have access to the tools to make a prosthetic. Still, she could still swim fairly well, and her lungs were still stronger than other Matoran “The latest vision Kanohi shared with us. That the Makuta may not only have cast the Great Spirit into a deep sleep, but that the Great Spirit might be dying.” She looked away, “I’m trying not to think about it. The last few days have been so tranquil, it’s best we do not dwell on a prophecy that is so … distant.” “Yeah, I guess we need to keep our senses sharp,” Hewkii agreed, “The last thing we need is to be gloomy on a day like this.” The two Matoran stole a glance at the sky. It was a bright blue, but worse it was clear. If a Rahkshi flew overhead, it would not be hard to spy their boat, and to discover its true nature. But for now, no Rahkshi could be seen. “Besides, Kanohi said so himself that his prophecies are not easy to understand, it might have been a metaphor for the Matoran being … beaten.” “Yeah, might be just them losing faith in the Great Spirit.” They both fell silent, Macku awkwardly treading water. Neither Matoran brought up the simple truth. Even if the Great Spirit was genuinely dying, or worse, if he already had, there was nothing they could do. The Makuta’s reach was as endless as the ocean, Mata-Nui belonged to him, his Rahkshi, and the false Toa who enforced order in the six villages. “…Do you think Hahli is alright?” “You want the truth?” “No, I already know it.” Then came a thunderous sound, and both of Matoran flinched, drawing their throwing disks at the rumbling. Their heartlights flashed violently, as they stood there watching. Finally they heard a Matoran shout in the distance, “Razor Whale scraping against the ship,” and the pair of them slowly stowed away their disks. But their heartlights continued to pulse. “…Hahli.” “She continues to resist to her dying breath, leading a guerrilla battle against the Makuta, using Volo Lutu Launchers to slip past the Rahkshi and throwing disks to shatter the false Toa’s masks.” “Lie better,” muttered Macku, “the false Toa don’t wear masks.” “I know. But there is not much any Matoran can do against those strange beings. Even if the Toa Nuva had still been alive when the Makuta first unleashed those Piraka, there is not much even the Toa could have done against them.” “Heh, here we are, we want to ignore those problems, and we are obsessing over them. Guess my cowardice is all consuming.” “You are not a coward.” “What do you call a Ga-Matoran who abandoned her sister to be ruled by a monster?” “So did all of us. We are leaving to get help.” “But are any of us coming back to Mata-Nui afterwards? No, we all will hide in our new refuge like good little Matoran, hoping these two Titans can fight our battles.” “…” “Some Chronicler’s Company we are. Our Chronicler dies and the six of us flee our island, not only forsaking our brothers and sisters but his own memory.” “I know … your guilt,” Kapura interrupted, coming up from behind them. Macku nodded towards him, hauling her catch onto the deck. As it slapped onto the deck Kapura started to speak again, but by then Macku had already dived back underwater. She was tethered to the Voya-Suva by a cord woven of seaweed fibers, to prevent her from drifting away. The Ga-Matoran had been in the Chronicler’s Company alongside Tamaru, Hafu, Kapura, Kopeke, and Taipu. They had worked with the Chronicler to help the Toa, famously defending the entrance to Kini-Nui so the Toa would not be ambushed. Oh if only the Toa had actually defeated the Makuta then. Shortly after Macku resurfaced, with another net of seaweed behind her. As she climbed up Kapura began to speak, but Hewkii spoke first. “Kapura says that we’ve spotted land in the distance, looks mountainous and icy, like Ko-Wahi back home. Might be the northern tip of Voya-Nui.” Macku let out a tightly held breath, before sitting onto the deck facing the ocean, her foot dipping in the saltwater. She reached behind her and pulled out her spyglass, scanning the endless waves. “I think I see it,” she smiled, then frowned, “it looks … thin. Is it really so small?” “No … just the tip … of the island. Its size rivals Mata-Nui.” “Incredible,” she shook her head, “ a whole other island of Matoran. Matoran who have never had the wisdom of a Turaga, or the protection of a Toa. And they live together, not separated into different villages based off their element.” “So Kanohi says.” She sighed, “even for the thousand years before the Toa, we still had the Turaga. To not even have that, not to mention how none of them know of the Titans on their island…” “They have been alone in a way we never knew.” “We know it now.” “They will have experience … to share.” “Yes. And if we can … work with the Titans … we might be able to overcome … the Makuta.” “And someone as large and mighty as the Titans might even be able to use Kanohi’s secret.” “Don’t speak it,” muttered Hewkii, and Macku nodded. The fewer knew what Kanohi had smuggled with them, the better it would be. As far as Makuta knew, Turaga Vakama had told Kapura to hide it. And hopefully the Makuta still thought it was on Mata-Nui. It was the only thing that could stay the Makuta’s hand from destroy the Voya-Suva. After all, the Makuta was a god onto himself, but he was no match for the raw force of time. But it was still unwise to mention it. Not even Toa Nuva Tahu could control its full power, maybe only the Great Spirit or the Makuta could. So Kanohi guarded it, ready to shatter the artifact with the full force of Turaga Whenua’s Drill Staff. And the resulting chaos … the universe would never recover. … Macku and the other Ga-Matoran struggled underwater, pushing the Voya-Suva across the shallows. The others had insisted she just rest, but she could not. She could do this at least, stand united with her fellow refugees in one task. And with all of them working together, the weight was less. In front of the Voya-Suva, the group’s Onu-Matoran and Po-Matoran strained, using their enhanced strength to drag the boat on the mountainous terrain of the shoreline. They meant to drag the boat onto the shore of Voya-Nui, to repurpose it as a crude shelter. It would take time to fully explore the massive island, alone find the Matoran. And then finding the Titans would be another problem altogether. So in the meantime, the Matoran refugees would need a place to hide and escape the predators on this strange island. They have traveled down the coast for a number of days, trying to find where the shore was shallow enough to land on. Finally they had reached such a spot, and had resolved to make it a base of sorts. It helped that landscape was a lot less frigid here. Still the Ko-Matoran remained the Matoran best suited for this landscape, able to endure the cold of the peaks. Kopeke had led a number of them into the icy mountains, to at least do some scouting. Kapura was scouting south, hoping to find a village in the more temperate regions. Hopefully down there, where it would be comfortable for more types of Matoran, there would be the village of the people of Voya-Nui. It would take time, but the Ta-Matoran’s strange speed made him great at trekking vast distances quickly, and he needed to stretch after his time cooped up in the Voya-Suva. Macku looked over to see Kanohi, grappling across the cliffs. The Po-Matoran was using his launcher to sling from ledge to ledge, pausing only to take in the view of the shore. He was watching for danger, as well as scouting the surrounding area. On the shore Ta-Matoran were standing guard, brandishing their bamboo disks and any other weapons they had carried. They were to ward off any Rahi, they could at least handle that. The thirty seven refugees were tired, hungry, coated in grease and saltwater, but they were alive and free, and that was better than most of the Matoran back home. Hahli … Macku prayed to the Great Spirit as she strained to push the boat, please let Hahli’s spirit endure. Don’t let her break. And then as Macku lifted her head to get air, she heard shouts. Her heartlight began to pulse frantically, and her hands trembled. She wanted … wanted to run, but where to? Ga-Matoran or not, on a good day she couldn’t swim long enough to get far away without her leg, and she was too exhausted to swim at all. But those shouts … she froze there, half-submerged. Her hand reached behind her to her throwing disk, pulling free the weapon of bamboo. She … she didn’t know why she clung to it, perhaps it was some old instinct from before destiny went astray. An instinct that Hewkii resurfaced with the Takea. There were more shouts, and the other Ga-Matoran swam away, heading inland. She just … were those cries from Hewkii, Tamaru, Taipu, Kapura, Kopeke, Hafu - even Hahli? They all blended together in her mind, roaring into her face. “Hey—” Macku swung her throwing disk with all her strength, thumping against someone. “Ouch,” muttered a small blue being with a mask that Macku had never seen before, one who held two long blades in her hands, each silver like the weapons of a a Toa Nuba, or the blade that Macku had found on the journey. . “You … you are a Ga-Matoran?” Macku managed as she flopped over, laying limp against the boat. Her chest heaved up and down, as the short stranger eyed Macku’s lower torso. “Yes. I’m a warrior, name’s Dalu. Piruk spotted you sailing in, I came to investigate. Glad to see some of my sisters from across the waves have spirit left in them.” “Not much,” sighed Macku. “Eh, more than most of your crew. Most of them look like they’ll just lying on the shore, waiting for the tide to drown them. While it looks like life has chewed you up, and you aren’t dead. Come on, big sister, let’s get you out of the water. Looks like you need to rest for a century.” The smaller Matoran shoved Macku upright, though she couldn’t stand, just prop against the boat. “But, the Voya-Suva—” “We’ll help you haul it ashore, once you all have had a chance to breathe. And we really need to discuss what happened to you.” “But … the Makuta?” Macku managed as Dalu handed her the crutches. Macku blankly stared at them, then back at the warrior. “Makuta?” Dalu shook her head, “You northerners keep saying that name with such fear, like se’ll sense you by his name alone. Although, I swear I have heard that name before. Maybe it was something Velika said, he’s always muttering stuff that makes no sense.” Shakily Macku stood up on her crutches, as Dalu slotted her bamboo disk back into Macku’s pack. The two of them began to lumber forward, inching their way to shore. As Macku drew closer to the shore she could see Hewkii wave to her, starting to run to her. She shook her head and he stayed back. Mustering her strength she let out a sigh, before wading towards him and the shore. Dalu glanced back and forth between the two of them, then grunted before sprinting off through the water, running to stand guard among some Ta-Matoran. As Macku stumbled ashore Hewkii tried to catch her, before they both collapsed. “Ugh, my body aches all over,” Hewkii shook his head. “I can’t even see my heartlight,” agreed Macku with a bitter laugh, as they lay there on the rough jagged shore. “”Neither can I, it’s so faint.” Dalu grunted and walked back over to them and held out her blades. The air around them seemed to ripple, and then Macku felt … different. Like her metal skin was crawling, and her arms were denser, but somehow lighter. As they stood back up, Dalu stumbled, before walking back to shore. “How … how did you do that?” Macku called after. “My Chargers. Let me temporarily enhance an attribute of a person, Rahi, or object. Can make a Burnak too heavy to move, or make a killer aware of all reality until they go mad. Used them to make your stamina increase. It’s draining to use them, I need to rest afterwards.” “How … how did you get that artifact?” Was it like the blade she had found? “Always had it, long as I can recall at least. Come on, we all need to rest now. Once you’ve told me your stories, I’ll head back, see if we can help haul your boat to shore. Then we’ll worry about hunting down this Makuta.” Macku nodded shakily at the strangely powerful Matoran. If a mere Ga-Matoran could have the power she claimed to have, even with such a weak body, and if Nuparu and Kanohi could upgrade the bodies of these Matoran too, and then build more weapons like Dalu’s Chargers and the electric blade… Macku smiled faintly despite herself. She hoisted herself back up on her crutches, and she and Hewkii followed after Dalu. The two Matoran did not even need to look at each other, both certain that the other felt a tiny glimmer of hope in their heartlights, one that had endured despite everything.

Made an article for Kanohi too.

IC Kanohi - the Taku Kanohi’s optic widened like a camera shutter. He … Knichou the Nynrah Ghost was working on his makeshift gadget. Beneath his layers of broken masks he tried to pay close attention, as the liquid metal was shaped. Then as his grappling gun was disassembled he briefly felt fear. He … he trusted Knichou’s cuts and adjustments, but what if his poor craftsmanship electrocuted Knichou? Then Kanohi realized that Knichou had spoken to him. “I … I think so. Um, it’s … okay. I-I will do my best. I … I will ask.” Oh Karzahni, was this all coming down to his skill at forging? He … he could handle the basics, he had some skill, he could do it. He bowed and then quietly approached Tallea. “Is it alright if I use one of your speed disks for Knichou’s plan? I … I can give you a Ga-Metru Disk of Remove Poison in exchange, I … it is low level, but…” He didn’t have much else. OOC: @Silvan Haven

It’s a little frustrating, Kanohi will probably just agree to whatever the group decides to do with Nuparu’s device, thinking they know best, but I really want to use that bad boy.

OOC: @BULiK IC: Kanohi - the Taku “Um, sure,” Kanohi handed over his grappling gun, his face under his many masks a crimson tint, “I know it’s um, a bit crude, sorry.” As he handed his modified Volo Lutu Launcher over, he could hear some of the conversations being said in the ship, snatches. It was … the speakers said enough, even even if he was worthy of these powers, he definitely wouldn’t have the mental fortitude to use them. But Knichou was a Nynrah Ghost, he might be able to use those powers, whatever they were. …Kanohi might be a failure of a mask maker, but he still remembered the basics. He raised his hand, “Um, excuse me but um, the Great Disks we have, there um, I think they are Reconstruct at Random and Weaken? I think that Kanoka of those types could be forged together to make a mask of Illusions. So um, if we used only these Great Disks in the machine, would they gave those who used it the ability to make powerful illusions? If … if we can find noble folk with the mental fortitude to use those powers, they could maybe trap the League in illusions, not killing them but distracting them so they couldn’t hurt anyone else?” Then to the rest of the passengers he asked, “um, do you know what exactly is happening in the city right now? I … we have been pretty isolated out here recently, is the city okay? Where exactly is Dume? Will we need to worry about the Vahki?”

IC Kanohi - the Taku Kanohi had been panicking in the corner, until Nuparu’s memories began to play. From then on his was transfixed, staring with trembling optics. He … he had never considered this. He … he expected … he didn’t know what he expected. Maybe a great mask? Perhaps a machine that would grant all Toa access to powers, like a Suva? He had feared a disk cannon that could pulverize armies, unleashing the powers of the Great Disks in a powerful blast. Something … expected, easily related to the Great Disks. But this… ”Toa Stannis,” he squeaked out, “this is … if this device can empower a Matoran with the power of a Disk, the Great Disks … this … I don’t know what to do. What do we do? It’s not a weapon, not some monsters, it’s a way to empower Matoran. Matoran can know the three virtues, they can follow the Toa Code while a cannon couldn’t. But … is this against destiny? And would noble Matoran actually be given this power? Would they even want this power? What if unworthy Matoran were empowered? I … I know I could not be trusted with this power, too cowardly and clumsy. And some Matoran might be worse. Not all, but some. And if the Great inventor Nuparu was horrified, and he understood this machine better than anyone … but if it could end the war, end it by empowering noble Matoran , but they aren’t Toa. Does it not work on Toa? I just … and if Turaga Dume only recently took over the Dark Hunters, and now they aim to kill him, does that mean … he didn’t have Nuparu killed? Or did he? I just…”

IC Kanohi - the Taku Kanohi nodded “Okay, we can wait, we can wait. We have time. Good, good, okay, okay.” He … he was okay. It was fine. They had time. They had time. He slumped against the wall of the Taku, panting. He was fine. It was fine. What was happening in Metru-Nui? Who had wanted Nuparu dead? Was Turaga Dume uninvolved? And the Dark Hunters were after him was … what if he was he dead? Even if Dume was misguided he didn’t deserve to die. No Turaga did. He … he muttered to himself. He had done good, he had fixed the hull, a levitation engine, he had even fixed the statue that had led the Toa to the Great Disk. He … he could do this. Simple tasks, do what he could handle. …But what could he do this far out in the Sculpture Fields? What if … what if Metru-Nui had collapsed when he had abandoned his duty? S-simple tasks. Simple tasks.

@Unreliable Narrator oh my bad, I thought I heard that an airship had crashed into the great furnace and blew up a chunk of Ta-Metru.

IC Kanohi - the Taku ”He — Turaga Dume allied with the Dark Hunters?” Kanohi saw his heartlight pound in the corner of his eyes. “When did … did he do this? We … we thought he might have ordered Nuparu assassinated, because Nuparu would not work on his machine. But … but if he wasn’t actually working with the Dark Hunters back then, and if now they wanted to kill him…” There was so much they didn’t know. And they needed to know now. ”Um, Atamai? I … how good are you at understanding … data crystals? I think that’s what it is? The heroes I’m with recovered one from Nuparu when he … passed, and we haven’t been able to look at it yet. I’m not much of a Fe-Matoran, not great at machines. But if you … do you think you could figure out what it says? That way we can maybe understand what’s happening?” Then he spied another Matoran, one with a tablet of sorts. Was it one of those iStones? “Um, Mr. Matoran,” he called over to Jutori, his heartlight trembling, “that device you hold, can it access the broadcasts of the city? Do you know what’s happening now? We’ve been away from the city, we don’t know what’s been happening. Is … is the city okay?” OOC: like say, has the Great Furnance exploded?

OOC: hey our two teams have a Great Disk of Weaken and Reconstruct at Random — we could forge a Mask of Illusions. IC Kanohi - the Taku “You got a Great Disk? Before the Po-Metru one?” Kanohi shook his face in amazement, “I … I didn’t know two had already been found. Let alone both were here. I thought … there was more time. Not that I know what the disks would be used for. Or why Turaga Dume wants them. I … I haven’t even been in the city proper in a long time, have I? We … we were in Onu-Metru before we headed here, the great inventor Nuparu had just been killed. I kind of just tagged along. Do you know what is happening in the city?” Kanohi’s heartlight began to speed up. He … he hadn’t even realized it, the chaos of everything had overwhelmed him too much. But his … he hadn’t patrolled the city in a long time. Who knows what could be happening in Metru-Nui? The League could have mounted an invasion. Metru-Nui might have already been conquered for all he knew. He … he had gotten so distracted with the Great Disks and Nuparu and Turaga Dume and engines and puzzles— He had neglected his duty.

OOC: @~Xemnas~ IC Kanohi - the Taku As some of the newcomers climbed aboard the Taku, Kanohi shook his head from his confusion. Whatever this was, the Toa and Knichou could solve it, and he ... he would try to support them. In the meantime, he had not really gotten to meet the newcomers yet. And in fact he just spotted another Matoran walking up, holding a Kanoka. Maybe a Onu-Metry one? Not only that, but the villager looked like a Fe-Matoran. “Um, hello,” Kanohi waved nervously, “how are you doing? Um, my name is Kanohi. You um, like to use disks too? I get mine from Ga-Metru.” Kanohi was covered in chunks and pieces of broken masks, all jingling and clinking together as he moved around like a crude mimicry of armor.

From a character perspective, and this might be ambitious and require help from another player, but I know I would love for Kanohi to get some engineering lessons and help from Knichou on upgrading his grappling gun, maybe so he can fire a second grappling “line” from his gadget even if he was already hanging from the tool, as well as making it harder to drop his grappling gun. That way the recent incident with him stuck on the airship’s hull could be more easily avoided. Only issue is we would need some downtime in the plot to do it, and it’s the final stretch.