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Azibo

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About Azibo

Year 15
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    Seeker
  • Birthday 07/21/1995

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    Indiana

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  1. IC: Gaius, Fau Swamp Gaius spent much of the morning traversing the swamp in silence. It wasn't until after noon that he heard some bird calls somewhere. In the Fau Swamp, being by yourself was better than being found by some beast or Skakdi, he knew. Gaius had wondered all throughout the swamp several times over in his long life. Within the dangerous jungle biome lurked monsters and predators eager for their next meal, and Gaius new old legends of beings worse than that. Somewhere, supposedly, shadow monsters lay in wait for their moment to destroy the world and all within it, and even more obscure were the original purposes of the ancient ruins all throughout the swamp. Gaius himself had been to one such temple before, along with some of his old Toa Team, but, for safety reasons, it was better to live as far away from known locations as possible. There had to be some maps that still marked those old structures, and Gaius was more than fine not even being close to being close to such markers. Speaking of ruins, Gaius rested for a minute on some stone bricks embedded into the ground. It looked like some old stone archway had collapsed a few centuries ago. Who built it? Why was it built? When was it abandoned? Why was it abandoned? Questions Gaius would never learn the answer to. In truth, there were plenty of sights like this scattered all throughout the Fau Swamp, and maybe even all of Zakaz, though Gaius hadn't left the Fau Swamp in the centuries since Mar-Koro needed him more than ever before. His duty was protecting his Matoran, not exploring. Presently, that was a bit muddied, though. Gaius pondered if he was doing the right thing. He decided it was for the best to honor that dying titan's last wishes, lest he attract someone's attention to his village, but part of him wished he could turn back now and pretend nothing ever happened. Quiet life in Mar-Koro was a life worth living for all eternity. Heading north meant heading into the unknown. Maybe the Skakdi had formed a mighty empire by now and would simply kill him the moment he emerged from the jungle. Maybe that giant, falling head had crushed the only remaining Skakdi settlement, and the rest of the island was now barren of sentient life. Maybe that head contained armies of new invaders, worse than even the Skakdi had been. Who could say, really. His breath caught and muscles relaxed, Gaius began his march north once more. For better or worse, he would discover what civilization or lack thereof was waiting for his discovery beyond the familiar Fau Swamp he called home. Not much else happened that day, nor did anything eventful happen while the Mar-Toa made camp for the night. As Gaius drifted off to sleep, part of him dreaded getting up and doing it all again the next day, but the entirety of him knew he had no choice. Gaius had a duty, and while working to fulfill it, he may even discover his destiny.
  2. IC: Gaius, Mark-Koro/ Fau Swamp Gaius awoke before dawn. Bad dreams. The kind where the five faces on the wall were more than just masks. His dreams brought Gaius back to the last nights he saw his brothers-in-arms alive. The first to fall was Valens. Mar-Koro had suddenly become beleaguered by the largest swarm of Nui-Kopen any of them had ever seen. For an entire day, the vicious wasps swarmed the village. Matoran had been carried off and never seen again. Exposed food stores were ravaged and most buildings damaged to some significant extent. At last, the Toa had used their elemental powers to safely bury the Matoran underground before unleashing an elemental fury in the skies above. Vespasian torched the canopy, Majorian buried the beasts alive, and Gaius dissolved any Rahi that flew too close. When the sun set, the remaining swarm was dispersed, never to be seen again. Yet so was the life in Valens eyes. No one heard any last words or even saw him fall; only a lifeless body with a stinger snapped off inside his stomach remained. The village mourned him for a month. It was decades before tragedy struck once more. This time, no foe other than Zakaz itself claimed the life of another. An earthquake doomed a mineshaft, and Majorian rushed in to hold the exit open long enough for most to make it out. It took three days of clearing rubble before his bruised body was retrieved. Another month, another mask on the wall. The dream world swirled, and Gaius was transported to the final fight of invading Skakdi. Thrax must've felled a few dozen Skakdi on his own, but eventually, they got him. Gaius was next to him as an axe buried itself in the grey-and-orange armor. Vespasian and Marcus killed every Skakdi too slow to escape their fury, while Gaius held Thrax in his arms as the warrior bled out. "Never Surrender," the Fe-Toa left for him as a final epitaph. The years between then and the fall of Marcus were too long to count. In his dream, the time passed in an instant. He was transported to the bedside of of the aged Toa of Stone. No medicine nor divine mercy seemed to halt his rapidly deteriorating condition. Gaius never left his side, yet the Po-Toa slipped away in his sleep all the same. Vespasian cried so loudly even the birds in the canopy took flight to escape his wailing. He was never the same after that. Gaius and Vespasian were as close as any brothers could be, yet the Toa of The Swamp couldn't penetrate the flames surrounding Vespasian's heart. Gaius feared the worst for the fate of his comrade, but time has its way of cutting short any plans made for good or ill. The final stage in these dreams manifested. Vespasian and Gaius, out alone in the jungle, searching for a lost Matoran expedition. Gaius would eventually find and recover the wayward workers. Vespasian would be claimed by a stalking Muaka that neither of them ever heard behind them. Gaius lived the rest of his days knowing that Rahi flipped its own coin before it struck; who would be crushed in its jaws and who would live to remember that day was as arbitrary a choice as any ever existed. It was the sound of the Muaka's jaws snapping around his last brother-in-arms that jolted Gaius awake. He kicked the damp sheets off his body and nearly jumped away from his bed. The moment his body realized it was awake and in the present was the same instant he fell to his knees and sobbed quietly into his hands. It was as if the pressure of existence itself forced him down into the ground. And then, the world controlled his actions once more, and the rays of the morning sun caused his tears to cease flowing and his legs to stand once more. Gaius bowed his head as he approached the wall of masks, then stared each empty face in the eyes. Some coffee flowed, some oats were consumed, and soon Gaius had gathered his sack of camping supplies, his two throwing spears, his shield on his arm and his sword on his belt. The villagers saw the stoic Toa calmly walking through the village as he made for the exit. Inside the gates, he turned back, elapsing a minute of his time to simply enjoy the view of the bustling Mar-Koro rising in the morning to continue another day's work. He smiled, then turned back towards the marshy road ahead of him. Gaius had a mission; adventure was calling. Alone in all but spirit, the Mar-Toa proudly strode forth, heading north.
  3. IC: Gaius, Fau Swamp Normally, the trek through the boggy jungle mess was a pain. But it rained for a bit during the middle leg of the journey, which turned the ordeal into REAL pain. The ground was squishier than normal, and with all his extra weight being carried, his progress was extremely slow. He had expected to reach the spot on the map by twilight, instead, the moon was already high in the sky by the time he reached the shoreline of Zakaz. Gaius had been south, and west a bit. Here, the jungle crept so close to the ocean's edge there was hardly a strip of sand between the two biomes. Also bordering the jungle trees and the ocean were various rocks, carved by the ocean into smooth surfaces and sharp points. It was in these tide pools that Gaius would find his next ore; the mark on the map was labelled "Enlarge." The map didn't include any explanation for why such an ore was needed, but Gaius didn't need to know. He had a job, and was gonna get it done. Setting up camp sucked, plain and simple. The Swamp Toa decided to pitch his tent close to the canopy's edge in a somewhat clear spot. A mild application of his acid powers to the stump of the one tree corroded its base to the point of pushing it over. Gaius hauled the tree towards the edge of his camp before further melting away the remainder of the stump, clearing a space large enough for his tent, at last. After an hour, his tent was up, a rough outline of sticks jutted around the tent, and Gaius was asleep on the floor under his rough-yet-cozy blankets. Gaius rose with the sun, and strode along the beach to inspect the rocks to be mined. One thing about living in the jungle: it doesn't prepare you for an aquatic lifestyle. Gaius only barely understood the tides, and ocean currents, and aquatic Rahi. As he waded his ankles into the water, he felt out of his element, and lost. He knew he was looking for the milky streaks of protodermis inside the stones, but thus far, the water covered most of the stone. After an hour or so of walking back and forth, Gaius stubbornly walked back towards the beech and sat in the sand. "It must be high tide," he reasoned. "I'll give it some time." Gaius waited until about noon to wade into the water again, this time with much more success. Little pools of water were trapped in tiny, concave spots atop the rocks along with small sea creatures. It was hardly ten minutes before he spied that elusive ore vein. A ravine carved between two larger stones revealed the ore underneath. Gaius retrieved his pickax, then alternated swinging it with mild application of his powers to weaken the rocks between strikes. Gaius worked like this for a few hours. He hauled his latest load of stones onto the beach, placing them inside his knapsack. It looked fairly full and certainly heavy. Gaius pondered calling it quits here; it's not like he couldn't ever come back. Gaius dropped his pickax and strode towards the water's edge. The ocean was rising again, and the water level was necessitating a break anyways. Gaius sat in the wet sand, allowing the waves to softly crash around his feet and legs. Gaius never really took time off anymore. There was a time when he could slouch in his duties and rely on his brothers to pick up the slack, but that time had been a lifetime ago. Watching the clouds and the distant Rahi in the skies, listening to the crash of waves on the shore, and feeling the sand and the surf beneath him made the Mar-Toa feel more relaxed than he had been in some time. Ever since that pearl-armored Titan had died in his village, Gaius had been on edge. A giant head crashed into his world, and with it had come untold masses of newcomers. Clearly, some were good, or at least intelligent enough to unite against a shared threat. But they couldn't all be, realistically. Zakaz was full of evil as is; the island had no need for further wrongdoers. Gaius thought of his village- his friends and family- which was all he had left tying him to the world. If not for them, he would've fallen on his sword and followed his brothers-in-arms into that dark, new world. Yet he had cause to remain, and would continue to live and fight as long as a single Matoran remained in his care. As fearful thoughts of what may happen to the Matoran without him intruded into his consciousness, Gaius shook his head and rose back to his feet. Such thoughts wouldn't do any good, so Gaius got back to work. He went back to his knapsack full of rubble and retrieved his pickax, then walked back towards the water. He carefully made his way across the slippery rock surfaces before arrived back at the now large gash in the stones. He was more just inspecting the job site to see if any more ore could be easily extracted- which didn't seem to be the case. So Gaius turned and walked back towards the shore. That's when the Tarakava struck. Gaius felt a strong punch to his back that sent him flying face-first into the surf. He landed hard on a rock, and tried to stand when he slipped, falling again. Gaius rolled around instead, turning to look up as a mighty blue punching-lizard towered over him. Another punch descended, yet Gaius activated his Kanohi Hau, blocking the attack. The beast backed a step, and Gaius turned to rise again. He deactivated his Kanohi and sprinted towards the beach. By the time he reached his knapsack, he turned to see the Tarakava half-submerged in the tide pools, staring back at the shore. Gaius was in no mood for a pointless fight with an animal before having to lug all of his stuff back to Mar-Koro, so he just stared back, allowing time for the Rahi to slink off somewhere. Gaius gathered his ores, and decided to sleep early and without supper. He'd rest without disturbance, and wake before the sun began to rise. Through the morning twilight, Gaius disassembled his camp, and as the sun rose in the sky once more, the pink-and-yellow Toa strode into the familiar, swampy jungle once again. Traveling back was about as slow as traveling down in the first place; the added weight of the ores made progress as slow as it was during the downpour. By the end of the day, he had returned to the familiar faces within Mar-Koro, many of them even greeting him. This time, Gaius knocked on Ollodor's door and waited to drop the ores off inside, rather than just drop and go as previously. Gaius would've liked to, but he felt like he needed some sort of update to keep his own morale up. "It's going well," Ollodor assured him. "We've got a regeneration disk ready to go, and two-thirds of a mind control disk. As I said before, we'll need a freeze disk to complete that one, but I'll get to that in a second. Moving on, the spirit disk. As I warned before, I'm only making an educated guess as to the steps needed to even craft such a disk..." Gaius' face was unchanging as the Fe-Matoran described his concerns. "These enlarge ores you've brought me should allow me to forge what I believe to be one of the three needed components: a disk of translation. The other two parts, in theory, are disks of flight and illusion. We actually have most of what we need for those, but... well, we're gonna need a few disks of teleportation and reconstitute at random for the flight disk. You see, to make a disk of flight, we actually need two disks that we combine, those being levitation and speed, so we need to first craft those disks which are actually pretty similar-" "The point, Ollodor, get to the point." "Right, sorry. In short, we need a freeze disk, and a few disks of both teleportation and reconstitute at random. Assuming I've even got the correct formula for this disk of spirit, or even this disk of reanimation. The catch: I have no idea where to find the right ores for the teleportation or reconstitute at random disks. I can't recall ever even handling such disks or talking to anyone who had. Well, actually, I can vaguely remember those De-Matoran who used to live way out on the seas on that floating village using teleportation disks to make noisy Rahi go away, but I haven't seen or heard from those people in literal centuries." "So you're saying, we have to give up?" Gaius tried bringing the Iron blacksmith back to the present. "No, I wouldn't say that. Look, we'll have to get creative for the other two, but a freeze disk, well, think about it. Where would get something like that? Well, up in the frozen wastes, of course! All you gotta do is wonder about in the snow for a bit, and I'm sure you'll find something." "Well, I thought the beach was a little uncomfortable, but a pleasant change of scenery. Maybe the snows will feel the same." Gaius knew in his heart this would not be the case. "Thanks again, Ollodor. I'll head out tomorrow and try and be back as soon as possible." The two said goodbye, and Gaius returned home. Hungry from skipping so many quality meals, he indulged in some of his decent cooking. While he ate, he stared at the five masks on the wall, and thought back on the meals the six of them shared together. Those thoughts of the past followed him into bed.
  4. IC: Toa Sans, Long Ago in Long Forgotten Lands ****** Toa Sans' Voyage Across the Seas had been interesting, to say the least. Thus far, he'd touched The Mountain of Xia, spat into the volcano in the center of the Southern Continent, passed on an offer from a mysterious Titan to visit the cursed land of Karzahni, accepted an invitation from a fabulous Matoran to visit the fabled land of Artahka only to get lost on the way before giving up, and witnessed the Nynrah Ghosts working on their projects on their island. He'd seen so much, but Sans craved more. He saw the best and the the civilized world; rich merchants on Xia obscuring the records on who they had working for them, decorated nobility of Stelt overseeing brutal battles in their gladiatorial pits, he dared not step foot on Zakaz but even offshore the smoke could be seen rising from some harsh work camps or possibly mines. Sans never found ample reason to visit the City of Legends, but he did visit many other Matoran settlements. All thus far were pleasant, and most were even comfy, but Sans supposed that's the success that came from being the Great Spirit's chosen. Maybe someday, Sans would settle down into one of these villages and be its Toa defender, or maybe even a Turaga leader. Such thoughts always made Sans chuckle to himself, "Huhuhuhuhu." Retirement was a long ways away for Sans. All of these travels had been to see what good he could do in the world, as well as some excuse for adventure for adventure's sake, but Sans wanted to do something more. So Sans set off to the south in a one-man sloop. He wanted to see for himself what mysterious and hidden places could be uncovered, what adventures could be had, what good could be done. After several weeks, Sans had arrived at the southernmost tip of the southernmost island. He had expected a boring nature scene. He found a smoldering ruin of a city. Toa Sans docked his sloop a kio down the way then walked back towards the city ruins. There was still some smoke rising from a smoldering, collapsed house. Ash covered the entirety of the village. Never the most cautious Toa, Sans bellowed out, "Heelllllllooooooooooooooooooo?" He expected no response, and was surprised to hear a whispered "psssst!" He turned towards the next nearest house and saw a pair of crimson eyes peeping out from a cracked-open cellar door. "A Toa? Here? Come down quick!" A black hand flung open the iron latch as the eyes disappeared below. Confident he could handle any trap possibly within, Toa Sans ventured down into the cellar, closing the door behind him. It was pitch black, save for the dozens of eyes and heartlights cramped inside this underground abode. A cloth was removed from a lightstone lamp, illuminating a basement full of primarily black Matoran, with highlights of darker reds and blues and greys and even more blacks marking them. "Shadow Matoran? Don't take offense, but I've never had the pleasure." "Few have, but none have had our pleasure. We've been alone in our home for all of time, except for now. We prefer it that way, so if you make it out of Hunakra alive, then we'd appreciate it if you kept this place to yourself." The Matoran speaking was all black, save for his red knees. "Sure thing. I'm Sans, by the way. Would you mind telling me why we're all in this basement and the city above looks like such a dump?" "The Kanohi Dragon. One day it just appeared in our skies. We used to have such a nice flock of Nivawk who made their home in the trees atop the cliffs blocking off the island interior from our village. If you look there now, all you'll see is a flattened waste. None of us have been up there, but we all heard the fight in the skies. No Nivawk have been seen since, either, so it's not hard to imagine what that dragon has done to them. That was just the first day," the red-kneed Kra-Matoran warned. "The second day, the Dragon attacked our fishermen out off the coast. I was the only one to make it back from that, I'm afraid." The entire room grew silent for a moment as the Shadow Matoran bowed their heads. "I'm Rikarr, by the way. We have no leaders in our village, but I'm the best at story telling, heh." The room's vibe was lifted some as a few laughs escaped the otherwise sorrowful mouths. "This Kanohi Dragon has been attacking us for months now. We even tried offering it food, but it was never enough. It seems to love destruction for destruction's sake. As you saw above, we haven't been able to live freely in too long. We all hide down here around this time, because the Kanohi Dragon usually appears around this time. Suffice to say, we were all shocked to hear your voice, Toa Sans " Rikarr moved towards Sans, holding blue hand in black hand. "I don't know why you came here, Toa Sans, but perhaps it was the Great Spirit's will. Would you help us, Toa Sans? Please." Toa Sans didn't need two seconds to think it over. "Of course I'll help you. Stay down here; I'll let you know when its safe to live outside once more." Sans heroically climbed out of the cellar and strode throughout the village. Ash covered everything, several buildings collapsed, some smoldering still; it was a sad sight, indeed. Sans took some time to consider a course of action, but couldn't devise any plan better than defeating the beast in battle outside the city. So Sans went a bit outside the village, and waited. It wasn't long before he heard the cry of the Kanohi Dragon. It soared through the horizon, darting to and fro as it slithered towards Hunakra. "Not today, fell beast!" Toa Sans equipped his protosteel staff then activated his Kanohi of Enlargement. Rapidly, his muscles expanded and his frame grew. Toa Sans lumbered 60 feet tall by the time he was done growing, and by the Kanohi Dragon's flight pattern, had clearly drawn its attention. "Your days of destruction are over, dragon! Today is the day you meet your maker!" The Kanohi Dragon circled above, before roaring so loud the earth beneath Sans' feet shook. Then it attacked. The Kanohi Dragon spiraled downwards towards Toa Sans before veering off at the last instant before impact, unleashing a blast of fire from its maw as it turned away. Sans used his free hand to create a wall of water which intercepted the attack. Now, it was his turn. Sans pointed his staff towards the flying Rahi and unleashed a spear of water from its tip. It blasted the beast in the back, causing some amount of pain, evidenced by its shriek. It must've made it angry, too, since it immediately whirled around and flew straight towards the Toa. Sans dove into the dirt to avoid the attack. Before he could rise, the Kanohi Dragon was on him again, flying above and breathing fire below. Sans dropped his staff to use both hands to spray down the flames. Through the stream, he could see the beast flying down towards him again, seemingly about to land on top of him! Toa Sans grabbed his staff again before rolling to the side a few rotations. The Kanohi Dragon landed where Sans used to be, then whipped its tail around to slap Sans, which it did. Sans couldn't rise fast enough, and was beat by the beast's decorated appendage, sending him back on his back once again. The Kanohi Dragon lurched forward, yet Sans jumped up in time to dodge this attack. Now standing firm, he gripped his staff with both hands and swung it with all his might, smacking the Kanohi Dragon in the face as it turned to blast him again. The crack of the impact echoed through the sky, and a few teeth flew from the great Rahi's jaws. It brought its head back towards Sans, but the Toa had dropped his staff and raced towards the beast. As it started spewing flames once more, Sans wrapped his arms around its neck. Then the thrashing began. The Kanohi Dragon wriggled, and rumbled, and even tried to take off into the sky once more, but Toa Sans refused to let up. He squeezed, and endured the struggling Rahi, until after a minute, the beats rolled onto its back, bringing Sans on top of it. The dragon's claws began to dig at the Toa, and he knew his armor wouldn't protect him indefinitely. He got... unconventional.. and yelled at the beast, except instead of screams, water gushed out of his lungs. Sans spewed this water into the face of the Rahi, until the kicking gave way to spasms, and a different sort of struggling. It took a few minutes, but between the choke-hold, and the drowning-on-land, the Kanohi Dragon finally stopped moving. Sans allowed his hold to linger a minute more than probably necessary, but this was quite the encounter and he had no desire to fight the same dragon twice. It was done, though: the Kanohi Dragon was dead. Toa Sans returned to Hunakra before shrinking down to size. Three knocks on the cellar door, before shouting out, "it's done! The beast is dead! I give you back your homes!" When the Kra-Matoran emerged, they saw an ashy Ga-Toa a little worse for wear, but no Kanohi Dragon in the skies. The villagers rejoiced, and for the next few days, helped repair Sans' armor and give him rest and supplies for his continued voyages. When Sans was ready to depart and sail the silver seas again, Rikarr walked him back to his ship. "Thank you again, Toa Sans. We will never forget all you did for us." "'Twas my pleasure, huhuhuhuhu. Until we meet again." After a shared wave, Toa Sans took to sailing his sloop once again, looking for his next adventure in unknown places not found on any map. ****** IC: Sans, Metru-Koro Turaga Sans' eyes twitched beneath his swollen eyelids. His heartlight grew from nearly-faded to dimly-lit. IC: Lrrthxx, Ruins of Air "Then to the other rooms I shall go." Lrrthxx abandoned his attempt to read the writing on the floor; he would come back once he learned what was in the other rooms. An Aspect of Birth, though... Miserix? Lrrthxx had not seen the head of their association for some time now. He added "find Miserix" to his ever-growing list of things to do while he paced back down the hallway he came from, this time going down the left hallway, leaving the center way for last. He needed to know the entirety of what he was dealing with inside this temple before he could accurately decide which next step needed his attention the most. OOC: @Unreliable Narrator
  5. Happy to be returning to Gaius. Writing up an incredible re-entry into the character proved too intimidating so I settled for just something short and sweet for now. I hope the rest of this summer sees me getting to jam out some really nice work writing for that character. I'm excited for my own progress... and for what lore and world building is yet to come from it >:)
  6. IC: Gaius, Fau Swamp/Mar-Koro The village hadn't changed since Gaius left it. The Swamp Toa had, though. Superficially, at least. His armor was muddy, his tools unpolished, and the sack on his back swung heavy with raw ores. He let the sack fall hard on the porch of Ollodor, the blacksmith, pounded on the door, then directly marched towards the public bath without so much as waiting for an answer. He left his tools at the wall then climbed inside the largest of the few pools inside the large building. The mud dissolved into the water, though he didn't mind at all. "Hey, do you mind?" A Le-Matoran looked at the Toa disapprovingly. "Sorry, some things can't wait, I guess." "Whatever Guy." The Le-Matoran left to enjoy a less muddied pool, leaving Gaius alone with his thoughts and aches. Twice he asked the attendents to reheat the water, and he enjoyed every moment in the basin he could. Gaius skipped dinner, going directly to bed once he ignored the world long enough. He inscribed a few lines in his journal before tucking it back under his pillow and drifitng off into sleep. When he woke up, it was already noon, and a note had been slipped under his door. "Thanks for the ores, Guy. Work has been going well while you've been gone. Included in this note is a map from Mar-Koro to an old (abandoned) mining site. I should need about another sack full's worth, I'm afraid. Good luck, see you when you're back!" After one elongated sigh and two cups of coffee, Gaius had his things prepared and supplies gathered for another rock quest.
  7. IC: Sans, Metru-Koro Skies "HUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHU-" The laughter abruptly ended due to Sans crashing into the ground.
  8. IC: Lrrthxx, Ruins of Air "Can you give me a reason as to why you shouldn't assist me?" Lrrthxx looked down towards the ancient text, beginning to try and decipher it's meaning. "Can you just tell me what this all says and describes or even depicts, or am I really going to have to take the time to read the floor all myself?" OOC: @Unreliable Narrator
  9. IC: Sans, The Razorfish Sans felt some impact against his thrashing leg. He must've hit his foe. Sans realized the ship was finally affected by his size now, and his damage, so he went all in. His growing now complete, the 40 foot Turaga jutted from the Razorfish like a stalagmite. Sans ripped his staff up through the ship and drew it overhead before slamming it down as hard as his old arm would allow, trying his best to smash the engine as best as he could- or at least make it look really ugly. When the staff slammed into the metal, maybe it was his pent up rage, or pain, or any emotion or feeling, really, but something inside of Sans came out. Out of every orifice, the entirety of Sans' elemental energy burst from within, as if every inch of the mighty, blue Turaga was crying out. He could feel this water pushing stuff around beneath him, but what drew his focus was feeling the ship crack all around him. His massive frame had done its work, and he felt himself slipping to the side. The wobbling Razorfish tilted too much to the side, and the Turaga heard thunder as the floor and walls supporting him gave way. A crevice of metal formed as if the ship was spitting him out. Sans didn't even try and reach for anything. Surround by sparks and splintering, wet metal, Sans began to fall through the wall. He looked back up to see the large hole in the hull above him. He hadn't exactly ripped the ship in half like he expected, but then again, he hadn't exactly thought this all out from the beginning. Still, the damage was done, Sans hoped, and as the gaping ship dumped him out into the sky, Sans looped back around from feeling pain and fear and sorrow to only feeling the laughter. "HUHUHuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu..." OOC: @Nato the Traveler
  10. IC: Sans, The Razorfish Sans expected further attacks; it's not like any foe would just quit after the first attempt. As his torso started protruding, what was left of his conjured water alerted him to some new attack. Sans braced for the pain, which came in the form of a stabbing sensation in his lower tummy. No going back now. He started gyrating his staff as much as he could with the limited space between him and the shredded ceiling of the ship, catching some object. The staff ricocheted so hard he might've dropped it entirely was he not holding on for dear life. Sans had to adapt, so he stood on one enlarged leg while the other thrashed its nearly two bio length all around the ship's insides. He could feel the thud of the walls and floor being stomped and kicked, and hopefully his foe would be caught up in this latest professional attack maneuver. Sans was about 8 bio tall by now, with only a little left to grow. The ship's hallway groaned under the pressure and weight and the fury of his kicking. His bleeding stomach let drips of blood fly past his dripping tears. The ship started to rock and sway dangerously. He took his hand off his mask and began pounding at the roof and sides of the ship, knocking whatever he could loose and damaging whatever was more stubborn. Some holes were mashed into the siding and some sparks and steam would spit out from ruptured engineering. He seemed about in the middle, and could nearly reach either end long ways. Sans ignored the feeling of his punches smashing the ships armor, reminding himself, "This will all be over soon, huhuhuhu." OOC: @Nato the Traveler IC: Lrrthxx, Ruins of Air The Aspect of Makuta didn't appreciate this "Administrator" calling him apostate. Almost as much as he didn't really care. Still, Lrrthxx was caught off guard; he hadn't expected this place to house any type of sorcery such as the hole in the ceiling which displayed such an accurate starry sky. Lrrthxx calmly paced about the room, and waited for his newfound to companion to make the next move. And waited. And waited. He made a sort of game about it. To his surprise, this Toa was a natural at waiting. Lrrthxx wondered if, in time, he may prove himself a worthy devotee. Lrrthxx waited an entire day, standing still as a statue, and only after his companion slouched himself against the wall for a few hours- all without further response from the voice within the temple- did Lrrthxx cancel his statue-like trance and begin to move again. Lrrthxx approached the center of the room and stared directly into the space above. "Administrator, it is I, Lrrthxx, whom you call Apostate. My domain is the murk and fog. I have left my ancient pools to come to you. Do you allow me within your sacred site? May I read these words along the floor and learn your secrets? OOC: @Unreliable Narrator
  11. IC: Sans, The Razorfish When the attack came, it stung. Zaliyah unleashed energy from her blade, which Sans' water wall intercepted. If only he was a Toa again, he could've stopped it out right. The energy dissipated... mostly.. and only kinda stabbed into his body.. but the pain was very, very real. Sans cried and winced as the attack penetrated his body enough to make Sans wonder what the upper limits of a Mask of Healing were. He left a tugging at his Kanohi; Sans was right to judge Zaliyah a Ce-Hordika. He removed a hand from his enlarged staff to press his Kanohi firmly against his head, just in case. Still, he grew, and his shoulders caused creaking as they forced themselves outside the hull, the wind blowing about his body. His wounded torso, too, began to emerge atop the metal canopy. He must've been more than two toa tall by now, and ever more did Sans grow.
  12. IC: Sans, The Razorfish "Then let that snuffing out start here." Sans watched Zaliyah, on guard for any offensive movement. And again, Sans concentrated inward, activating his Kanohi even further. Sans began to grow. Thoughts of that lizard came to mind again, scurrying about, oblivious to the changed world. How Sans wished he could be that lizard and hide away from the troubles of life. The Ga-Turaga imagined how the news would be received by those below and those far away. Would the defenders of Metru-Koro mourn him? Would they resent him for throwing his own life away? Would they honor him for his sacrifice? Would they understand? A thousand thoughts and more raced around his head. What kind of world was Sans leaving behind? Would the Matoran and the Toa and all the other types of good people work together to build a new society on this strange new continent? Sans thought of all the faces he'd seen and the names he'd heard. There was so many people to keep track of; Sans wished he lived in simpler times again. Threats used to be Rahi attacks or natural disasters, not war and invasion and crashing giant robots. Sans grew ever more, his frame now reaching the ceiling of the ship. The tears flowed once more. It hurt to keep growing. His wounds grew same as all parts of his body, and with that came the growth of pain. The air racing around his exposed frame, the heat of the burns, the scarring on his nerves, even the broken bones he was sure hid inside his old body. It was hard to be so ready, so active. All Sans wanted was to sit quietly in his home and play some banjo once again. Yet still, Sans grew. The metal creaked as his head began to force itself outside the hull. He brought his hands even closer to his face, guarding it from attack. His mangy hands grasping his staff so tightly he would probably feel some cramping had they been capable of feeling anything other than the dull burn of such singed appendages. OOC: @Nato the Traveler
  13. IC: Sans, The Razorfish "I didn't realize you were so eager to die." As Sans prepared himself for some Steltian brute to bull-rush him, or maybe some squad of Vahki to pounce from all around, or even some unknown Southern Islander to manifest, he was surprised to see none other than that Toa Hordika who had come to parlay some time ago. Sans hoped that somewhere behind his burnt and crisped frame was an intimidating Toa-sized hero greeting this challenger. "Why did you come back? Why couldn't you have stayed back in Metru-Nui?" Sans conjured a thin wall of water before his firmly held staff, at least creating the illusion of defense from some surprise projectile. OOC: @Nato the Traveler
  14. IC: Sans, Metru-Koro Skies Sans was prepared for the worst, but not for the less-than-worst. The ship had ceased firing directly at the village, instead aiming for him. There wasn't much he could do to maneuver, so he just reduced his frame what little it could, back to his normal size. Then the blasts came. All around, flurries of bright energy whizzed around him. Frightening, but Sans couldn't turn back now even if he needed to. He was on a collision course for the ship, and nothing would stop him now. A large clump of plasma tried, though. Among the firing, this ball of energy slid beside him. Had Jephro been any less than an expert of his craft, Sans might've been hurled into what amounted to a star. Instead, Jephro's aim was spectacular, leaving Sans only hit by the blast, not incinerated on sight. His flesh boiled and stung as the attack grazed his frame. Sans would've cried out had the wind not taken his breath away. He did cry though. Tears came naturally for any water elemental. The authoritative robes he borrowed from Dume's wardrobe fell away as their front side threads singed away. Sans felt his limbs searing and his chest mangling under the heat of the plasma. His tears fell away like a misty rain on a field and still he flew. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open at any level, and to hold onto his staff, though it may have been fused to his hands by now. Sans was about to meet his target and possibly even his maker. He concentrated through the pain and enlarged his frame again, until a Toa-sized hero crashed through the side of the airship. Mata-Nui must still be protecting His people, because Sans didn't crash through the other side as he feared. Instead, he only left a huge dent in the wall. His frame falling to the floor let him know that Jephro had ceased his use of elemental energy on him, or maybe he was out of range by now, or maybe some foe had somehow switched it off. Sans didn't really care for the how or why, all he cared about was not falling unconscious as his body fell on the floor. "*Cough. Cough.* " Sans stayed curled for a moment as his senses returned. He hacked up Mata-Nui-knows-what liquid as he started to rise. He exerted some of his own elemental energy to douse his own body, and as the steam rose from his burnt body, so too did his resolve rise inside his mind. No matter the odds, Sans would defeat any foe. The Matoran needed him to be the hero he always has been. "For the Matoran," Sans said through a smokey voice box as he crossed his arms before him, staff planted in front of him as solidly as a stone. His broiled feet stood firmly on the ground, and he waited for his first foe to come and fall to his fury. OOC: @Nato the Traveler
  15. IC: Sans, Metru-Koro Sans watched as the purple Toa gave a thumbs up to the Le-Matoran manning the cannon. The next thing he knew, he was flying. Sans never had serious experience tampering with gravity, so the sensation of weightlessness was strange. He wondered if all Ba-Matoran felt the same strangeness when they used their powers, or if they were naturally immune to that sick feeling in the stomach. His thoughts cut short from the sound of the cannon blasting behind him. He hoped he wouldn't be blasted by his own side, though his squinting eyes seemed to reassure him that the blast wasn't going to hit his feeble, blue frame. Sans raced through the sky and looked below at the fledgling city. The upstart streets, the makeshift homes and the buildings borne of Matoran ingenuity. He thought of home, there, and of homes he'd once known. The rocky shores, the grassy plains, the mountains and the fields and the beaches. The Matoran below and the Matoran above trapped and left behind inside that giant robot hovering somewhere out in space. The faces he'd known and would never know again, both there and here. Sans felt the impact of blasts around him. The bombs bursting in air, and the glare of assault bringing war down onto Metru-Koro. Sans remembered why he was doing this. For Korruhn, and Leklo, who he might never see again. Taja, that humble hero who he knew would never fail to protect the good left in this damaged world. Sans remembered Dume and his tattooed frame that hid mysteries that would forever go unsolved. That big blue brute and that even bigger blue lady. Sans had met so many good people in such short a time. War has that effect. As Sans saw his target growing in his squinted sights, he thought back to that lizard in Le-Metru. Did it survive the crash? Was it stomped by some invader without a second thought? Could it have escaped the crash site and that silver sea to start anew in this world just as he had? Sans would spend the rest of his life questioning the fate of that lizard- which may not be long at all. The Razorfish was almost upon him. Even weightless, Sans knew his momentum would carry him through one side of the ship at least. He hoped it wouldn't crash him through both sides entirely, or else he may not get to fight his fight at all. Who could say what foes waited for him inside. How many skulls he had to crack and how many bodies he had to leave behind him. That ship must be turned around and sent back to the warlords who ordered its departure. Destiny called, and again, Sans answered. His Duty was clear. His people, united. The ship was approaching, and Sans braced for impact.
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