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Eyru

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About Eyru

Year 15
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    Real Canadian Maple Syrup
  • Birthday 07/24/1994

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  1. IC (Jin - Ko-Koro) The storm raged overhead, only getting stronger as the minutes ticked by. Where in karz had it come from? I wasn't exactly a meteorologist (although I've been told I could be a weather girl) but this wasn't normal, not even for Ko-Koro. An icy wind swirled down and raced me through the streets, carrying flurries of snow with it as the sky grew darker. I hurled silent curses at the storm to save my breath for running, then ducked into a nearby alley as another hail of bombs and disks struck the earth like lightning. Snow, ice and stone burst into the air, then fell like rain. I covered my head with my arms as the debris came down, feeling pieces of the street and nearby buildings glance off my body. Most of it was harmless, but I winced as one particularly big rock bounced off my shoulder. That's gonna bruise, I thought absently, but I was already shaking off the dust and moving again. The clock was winding down on this village, and if I stopped for anything then I was probably gonna go with it. I came to stop where two streets intersected in a large square, my breath coming in clouds as I watched a large group of people battling in the open space. Balls of fire burst against the sides of buildings and spears of earth buried themselves in the ground, and over everything rang the sounds of battle, the clashing of weapons and the screams of anger and pain. There didn't seem to be a reliable way of figuring out who was on my side and who wasn't, so I figured the best course of action would be to skirt around the edge of the battle and keep going, keeping my eyes peeled for Nika and Pae— A blast of ice almost took me off my feet, scattering my thoughts to the wind. I stumbled through the snow into something that might've resembled a ready stance and looked around for the moron who'd attacked me. It didn't take long. A gangly Toa of ice leered at me from behind a scarred Pakari, hefting a greatsword in both hands. With a snarl, he swung the blade up and unleashed another blast. He wasn't exactly being subtle, so it wasn't hard to dodge; I dove to the side, rolling to my feet just in time to see him rush up into melee range, swinging the massive sword as he approached. I'll be honest—I don't remember the last time I was in an honest fight. It's been awhile. Used to be I had my hands full either taking out my mark or dealing with the motley assortment of guards that accompanied them. These days? I usually operated in silence, working under the cover of darkness or with someone else drawing the heat. No need for fists with my kind of work—they worked too slow anyway. I needed bigger weapons than ones just a single person could wield. A girl with flashing fists and feet couldn't have sunk Xa-Koro on her own, not in a million years. That took something bigger, something calculated and worked over in secret. It felt less honest, which was kinda dumb, because it was all death in the end, right? It was all blood and violence no matter what way you took, no matter how small the gate or wide the road. Still... this felt better. More honest. More real. I ducked under the strike, twisting to see the Toa bury his blade in the ground. He cursed, then raised a hand and conjured a hail of icicles to rain down where I'd been standing a moment ago. I was already gone, a knife flashing in my fist, ready to sink it in between his shoulder blades when a fist of ice sent me sprawling, knocking the wind from my chest. I hit the ground with less than my usual grace, and he was already moving, the sword abandoned, wielding a spear as clear and sharp as glass. I got to my feet, then sprang backwards, the tip of the spear coming inches from turning me into a Vortixx-on-a-stick. I managed to fumble a second knife from my belt as he approached, then sidestepped the next jab and grabbed the haft of the spear to pull myself into melee range. The weapon was made of ice; I could feel my fingers going numb already, and then the spear turned into vapour and he caught my wrist in his hand and squeezed. I heard a strangled cry of pain and realized belatedly that I was the one making it. I tried to pull my hand free, but he wouldn't budge. The Toa raised his other hand and conjured an icy dagger out of nothing, like a magic trick, I thought blearily through the haze of pain, like it's not real, and I reached my hand out to touch him because maybe he wasn't real, maybe this was all just a dream and I'd wake up in a moment in my bed in Kumu, Liacada's peaceful breathing coming from the bunk below and my hands were still clean, Xa-Koro still stood, and there was still time to get out, get to a boat and escape before it all came crashing down— I felt armour beneath my fingertips. Under that, flesh and bone. He was real. Real as I was. Real as everything I'd done. Real as everything I wanted, and wished, and was gonna get from this world if I had to find Karzahni himself and rip it from his hands. I wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot. And there's no way I die in ##### Ko-Koro. I smiled through the agony and activated my buzzer. The Toa's body went stiff and he made a choking sound as the electricity coursed through his body, then he went limp and hit the ground as I easily escaped his suddenly nerveless fingers. I staggered to my feet and started to run, cradling my left hand like a baby bird. The chaos raged around me, then faded as I moved down a side street. Time seemed bendy, so I don't know if it was minutes or hours before I made it to another square, this one a little more peaceful than the first. I could still see people fighting, but there was nobody immediately threatening, and the airstrikes didn't seem to have hit this part of town yet. I was safe for now, or at least as safe as I could be in the karz-forsaken hole of a— "Jin." The voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise like a knife through butter. I turned and found them instantly, like my eyes were drawn by a magnet. I nodded once, then made my way over, biting back the pain. They didn't seem too banged up, but Nika was leaning on Pae like something had happened. Whatever. We didn't have time for status reports. We had to get out of this warzone. Everything else could wait. "Good. You made it," I said by way of a greeting. "We gotta hustle if we want to make our check out time."
  2. IC (Oreius) (Inu) The curtains swayed in the breeze. Footsteps echoed from beyond the door. "No promises," he replied. "But I'll see what I can do."
  3. IC (Caerus, Aila — Onu-Koro) How long has it been? Seconds march into minutes, days muster from hours, and time rolls on like an advancing army—yet the Matoran at his desk is oblivious to the tireless pace. He writes slowly. Carefully. His strokes are usually driven by feverish passion, but tonight he writes with all the time in the wide world. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, he slows to a stop. He lays his pen down and gently places the lid back on the the inkwell. The parchment lies before him, meticulously marked with lines and dates, each carefully drawn in thick black ink. He stands, looks down upon his work with tired eyes, and frowns. Raises a glass of honey-coloured liquid to his lips. Sips. His other hand plays idly with a chain around his neck, from which hangs a little crystal vial. He is not a man for jewelry, but he permits this one piece. It has not left his breast since he first put it on. "Having fun?" He turns at the familiar voice. Smiles. She enters the room like a breath of fresh air and places a gentle kiss upon his cheek. Steals his hand from the vial. "Is it done?" he murmurs. She nods. "To the letter." "Good." They stand in silence for a long moment, inspecting the parchment together. He feels her eyes trace each letter as if they were his own, like she is an extension of himself. He is a fool, he knows—a fool to remove his heart and place it in such a fragile vessel, and then to send that vessel out into the world and merely hope that will return. But he cannot refuse her. For that, too, he knows he is a fool. "Finished?" she asks. "Very nearly." "What's missing?" He exhales. "I've collected everything the island knows, but it remembers little from before the Makuta. I was hoping to find a clue to these Dasaka, but I've found nothing." "Maybe they were never here." He shakes his head. "They seem to worship a Great Spirit of a sort, like the Matoran, and they bear no small resemblance to our race. They wear masks. They even speak our language. History flirts with coincidence, but doesn't traffic in it. There must be a link somewhere in our past. Either they left us, or we fled them." The silence returns, and rests over the room a long while before she breaks it again. "What if you find the link? What does it mean?" He lifts his eyes to hers. "I don't know." She has never heard him speak that phrase before, even to her. He always portrays himself as a man of infinite secrets, masking his ignorance—if it exists—in sly smiles and half-speech. But tonight, she sees a weary honesty in his eyes. "The island rushes headlong towards something that I can't see," he says. "My webs are failing me, Aila. They tell me what happens, but they can't tell me what it means. They write the poem, but it's up to me to solve its meaning." He releases her hand and brings his fingers again to the vial. The little crystalline vessel holds something caught between liquid and vapour, something viscous and dark. "Sometimes, I'm sure this is the key," he breathes. "What powers might it bestow—what knowledge could I gain? Perhaps I've had the answer in my hands all along." "It's too dangerous," she says. "We've seen its effects, Caerus—you know what it does. It corrupts. It kills." "Yes," he replies. "But never both. It calls like to like." "You can't. It's not worth the risk." They stand in silence once more. The lightstones flicker. The shadows dance in the corners. "No," he says at last. "It's not. But perhaps, someday soon, it will be."
  4. Wow, Tyler and Ghost (and Nuju, I see you there) have really taken it to the next level with these plot posts. Some fantastic writing happening! Great job guys. And I always wondered what happened to Grokk. After his mad spree through the topics, I remember his last post ending with him being needed for one last thing before he could truly die, but the "one last thing" never happened. At the time, I just thought Nuju forgot about it. I've never been happier to see that I was wrong.
  5. Echelon and Nightfall controlled Ko-Koro because they took hostages to prevent the other Akiri from attacking them. The Toa Maru have found the hostages and are escorting them out of the village. Now that Nightfall doesn't have the hostages as insurance, the other Koros are free to take Ko-Koro back. Le-Koro has launched a fleet of Riders who are carpet-bombing the Koro with little regard for friend or foe. Meanwhile, Stannis and Eisen are fighting in a warehouse, and other heroes and villains are fighting throughout the city. If your character is good, they'll probably take this opportunity to fight some bad guys and help reclaim Ko-Koro. If your character is bad, they'll either fight back or run. Hopefully that's helpful. In any case, the arc seems to be barreling towards its conclusion, so you can always just wait to see what happens and then post what your characters were up to in the wrap-up topic.
  6. IC (Oreius) (Inu) "There are six of us, but I'm the only one with a—what you call an Ora. His name is Inu."
  7. IC (Rorg) I fire, but I do not wait to confirm if the shot lands. The riders are too many, and their next approach threatens the integrity of my location. I pull the rifle from my eye and turn, reaching for the door handle as another wave of birds falls from the sky. They loose their cargo as I pull the door open, and the street erupts as I stumble through, half-carried by the force, the door slamming shut behind me. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness of the warehouse; I activate my thermal vision so as not to be caught off guard.
  8. IC (Oreius) (Inu) Is she talking about me? Inu was caught between surprise and offense. Surprise that the little creature seemed able to recognize him from afar, and offense that she would dare refer to him as—what was it? What is an Ora? I am Inu, strength-drinker and shadow-stalker. I am Father-slayer and brother-hunter. I am— Easy, Inu. She didn't mean anything by it. "He's nice," the Toa replied aloud. "Nicer than most." Nice? Inu's voice dripped with the blood of slaughtered prey. You are nice, Oreius. I am menacing. "Yeah, nicer than most," he repeated with a half-smile. "As for me, I'm a Toa Maru. I've got a bit more juice than your typical Toa, I guess."
  9. Maybe if you made that extra line its own stanza? It could be focal point of the poem, with three equal stanzas both before and after? Just spitballing. Either way, love what you've done here! Please share more of your work sometime!
  10. IC (Oreius) (Inu) "Go ahead."
  11. IC (Oreius) (Inu) From the Red Star? Now Oreius was beginning to wonder if this was all just a hallucination brought on by whatever herbs that doctor had made him chew a couple hours ago. It definitely couldn't get any stranger. Maybe he should call a nurse and let them know he was seeing things... "I see," he said. "Well, it's been good talking with you, Luten. Sorry for all the questions."
  12. IC (Oreius) (Inu) A little bemused, the Toa reached down and gently shook Luten's hand. "Likewise." He decided to relax his guard. The being seemed harmless, and the ability to sense the presence and energy levels of nearby Toa could make it a useful ally. "I've never met anyone like you. Are there more of your kind?"
  13. IC (Oreius) (Inu) "No, my name's Oreius," the Toa replied, suddenly very curious. Two of this being's offhand comments had snapped into alignment, and he wanted to know more. "You said I look different. That I was giving off energy. You can see energy?"
  14. I really like this! Your use of repetition creates a comfortable rhythm, and you have some good imagery here. I like how you've played with the idea that being alone physically doesn't necessarily mean being altogether alone, and how it can even be exhausting to be alone with your own thoughts for too long. Some critique: each stanza has three lines, except for the fourth stanza, which has four. I found this to be a little distracting; I think a good deal of this poem's power comes from its repetition, and changing the length of a stanza breaks that flow. I wonder if you could find a way to reduce it to three lines. And while I'm on the topic of repetition: have you thought about beginning the lines in the fourth stanza with "I hear" like you do in the third stanza? Leaning harder on that repetition might really help drive home the ceaseless, relentless nature of these thoughts. I like how the fifth stanza repeats the first with that small change in the third line. Again, a big fan of your use of repetition here. And the sixth stanza provides a welcome relief from the relentless thoughts. You could've chosen to end this poem in many ways, but I like that it ends hopefully, with the suggestion that it's healthier to live outside your own head, alongside other people. Thanks for sharing!
  15. IC (Oreius) (Inu) The creature was growing stranger by the second. Oreius hadn't really figured anything out—all its answers were muddled. Either the being was deliberately being untruthful, or... well, he got the feeling it didn't really know what it was saying. It seemed innocent, like a child. That could be a trick, Inu reminded him, his suspicion accompanied by the sharp bite of a trap and an anguished howl. Oreius silently agreed, but found himself doubtful. If the being were malicious, surely it would have done something by now? Struck while he was surprised? Instead, it seemed perfectly content to stand by its mask and answer his questions. "Don't worry about it," he said, deciding to to change the subject. "So... you said—you are the mask?"
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