Bzprpg - Ta-Wahi

[- JL -]

OOC: Wrong. Toa can manifest their elements - and as such, sub-powers, just about anywhere. It's just that - I think - the farther you are from the place you are manifesting your energy, the harder it is.

 

IC: Axeron

 

Butra's purpose was purposeless. It wasn't hard to figure out he had no motivation other than 'it's the right thing to do'. And quite simply.......that wasn't just a lack of motivation. It was....cause for failure.

 

But Fehron's ideals.....

 

Signified stupidity.

 

Not only did Fehron have approximately 0 ideas as to who Axeron was, what he has done, and what motivation he has kicking him in the back and pulling him from the front, he also had the ignorance and arrogance to assume that he was correct - and insult someone.

 

Insulting Axeron was fine. But insulting him as saying he was evil? That was like telling the guy who got the highest scores in a test and saying 'You're the dumbest person I know, because you challenged me to do something.' The sheer arrogance required and intended for someone to say something so excessively stupid and thoughtless rarely happened in true heroes, to say the least.

 

And that just about explained why Axeron was testing each of them.

 

Rather than dodge each of the shurikens, Axeron instead used them against his enemies. Activating his mask, 2 throwing knives silently escaped from his loose grip, knocking the second and third throwing stars away, hopefully back at them. But his attention was focused on the first and fourth shurikens flying towards him. Twisting his body as he grabbed hold of the flying metallic star shaped blade, his turn allowed him to keep the weapon's momentum, and in time for him to throw it into the 4th shuriken, with Calix enhanced power, accuracy and prediction. As the 2 weapons impacted, it was clear which carried more kinetic energy - the one he had thrown. Even as it transferred from one killer blade to another, Axeron began manipulating the heat, making sure the blade would rise or fall in the right way, to let it fly in the right direction with the least resistance.

 

The target was Fehron's neck.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

I was sitting in my cell, door knocked askew like a pair of bifocals after a hard fall, when my heart finally gave up completely.

 

It’s amazing what details you can remember for the huge moments in your life, when you stop hard to think about them. I had a half-empty bottle of bourbon next to me, two shot glasses laid out on either side of my thighs, so when I breathed the leather of my pants brushed against the crystalline edges of the glass. One was chock full of alcohol, while the other – the one on my right side – had been filled and drained more times than my brain dared to count.

 

Who was the second one for? Ssssh. It’s a secret.

 

“Want to explain to me how you managed to get out of your cell to find some bourbon?”

 

Deputy “Dynamo” Drigton – or, as I’ve begun eloquently referring to her in my inner monologues, Triple D – was leaning against the doorway of the cell doing the Dorian Shaddix Disinterested Glare Slouch Combo™, her eyes ready to roll upwards in disbelief or irritation at a moment’s notice. I grinned and pulled away both shot glasses, setting them on the foot of the bed away from Tuara, so if she wanted to grab my bourbon she had to go through me.

 

“I managed to seduce a gang of expert pickpocket cockroaches into busting into the cafeteria and carrying me a bottle and some glasses,” I drawled, setting my head playfully against the hard metal of the cell wall and cooling my forehead on the emotionless cage. “It’ll be a sad day for the island’s drunk prisoners when the Guard exterminator finally whacks them.”

 

“Dorian.”

 

Not my full name. Not Shaddix. Not even “you poor, chauvinistic, fickle little narcissistic crazypants.”

 

Dorian.

 

I groaned and rolled my eyes before standing up with a lot more grace and control of my movements than most people who downed a half a bottle of straight whiskey would. From the way Tuara was positioned, I could catch a clean look over her shoulder: Tank was sound asleep, which meant we could talk without me being hammered by the self-righteous Wündertwins.

 

“Fine. I took my sunglasses, slid them through the bars, and used the reflection of the keyhole I saw in the lens to create a key that matched up with the door and then snuck into the cafeteria to get my fix.”

 

"You came to me wanting reconciliation right?"

 

My gaze fell from Tank to Tuara, then back to the bourbon, then to Tuara. Something thudded inside my chest as my gaze then jogged straight to my left hand, where the key was still clenched in my left hand. The little trinket slipped from between my grip, like sand through my fingers, and clattered to the ground; the sound was plainly audible thanks to the sudden stop in breath.

 

“I…well, yeah, I mean, I came to help me. And you. I wanted—“

 

"To get drunk in a prison cell?"

 

My lungs were rioting from all the breath they were holding in; Tuara’s eyes blazed with some sort of weird fire. I couldn’t…

 

I didn’t…

 

What?

 

“What happened, between you and Angelus?”

 

Water doused the fire in the crimson orbs set in her face; her very posture tensed up, made her seem like a sculpture. For the briefest of seconds, she was perfect: a word of art. Then it disappeared again, like a buoy bobbing in and out of the current, sucked under the waves, and she was just nearly-perfect again.

 

“That’s none of your business.”

 

“It is if I’m going to help you.”

 

“I don’t need your help.”

 

“There’s not much of an argument to back that up.”

 

I took a step towards Tuara, then another, and stopped about a foot in front of her, leaning against the wall and perfectly mimicking her posture (which, by the way, she totally stole from me…) with a knowing smirk. The ex-cop’s eyes steeled over for a second before going back to normal, and I reached out one hand to brush her cheek, much like she’d done to me before she yanked my mask off the previous day.

 

She had me beat; I knew it. There was no way Tuara would let herself lose in a game like this. I knew, for a fact, that she couldn’t stand it. That’s why she’d come galloping as soon as I sent word that I was interested in giving myself up: until she had the Mark Bearers that had wronged her locked up to drive themselves insane for all of time, she would focus on winning. So, the only thing for me to do was keep playing as though I were going to win, anyway.

 

The problem is, I hadn’t really wronged Tuara. The occasional sadistic threat here and there, me aiding and abetting Utu, okay, I was guilty of that. But I hadn’t done anything to hurt her. I’d made sure of it. And she knew it.

 

She not only needed my help, she craved it. That was the only reason she was so against me doing something like stealing a little bit of bourbon and cigarettes – something she knew I was going to end up doing almost immediately. Because if I could grab party materials, what was to stop me from going out and just grabbing my freedom?

 

Me grabbing my freedom meant me snatching Tuara’s. She couldn’t have that.

 

My hand lingered on her cheek for a few seconds before it started to heat up with warmth from her face. For a second, my smirk widened, because I thought she was blushing; I then realized she was actually superheating her body, because my hand was getting hotter and hotter and—

 

“ a!”

 

I hissed and drew my hand back, mouthing more curses in between silent bouts of laughter as I shook it and tried to suck away the heat from the burn. Tuara’s smirk was vindictive, where mine was still playful; she was now, more than ever, playing my game.

 

“Tell me the truth, Dorian, or I leave, right now. And then you’ll never see me again, whether you stick around in this cell or not. Do you want this? Or am I wasting my time on you?”

 

That depends on what you’re spending your time on me for.

 

What was I gaining, being here? Self-reflection? I could get that by locking myself in a hut deep on a Ko-Wahi mountain. Peace of mind? Drink more bourbon. Companionship? Adopt a puppy. There was a cure for everything I wanted to get out of this little self-help experiment. For every reason I could churn out of my head, a new solution popped up alongside it like kettle corn.

 

Everything I wanted could be cured with a snap of my fingers.

 

Except Tuara. She was terminal.

 

I not only needed her help, I craved it.

 

“It was just some bourbon…”

 

“No. It was more than that.”

 

Now I recognized the look in her eyes. It was disappointment, for me thinking that the cocktail of emotions she had blended up was all about some whiskey and smokes. It was a brewing disquiet that had been bubbling up inside her like stomach acid for months at the fact that she had continually failed at everything she had attempted: her relationship, her job, her vendettas, keeping herself together.

 

It was also fear. Fear of loss.

 

If she lost me, she had nothing to keep her going. Nothing to leave her mark on, nothing to work towards improving, no testament that she had ever been at all if she were to disappear tonight, after leaving this cell.

 

“Dorian, I’m gonna be honest. I don’t know why I’m doing this. I could be doing more with my life than coming to visit you every day and piece you together. I could try and fix my relationship, I could start up my own private detective business, I could do more than shackle myself to you. Can you change? This isn’t rhetorical; this is me, asking you a question that will change your life any way you answer it. Are you worth it?”

 

Is…that how she sees this whole thing? Her shackling herself to me?

 

She couldn’t hate me, because she was me. But that didn’t mean she could stand me.

 

I was wrong, and the realization was crashing down on me all at once that I had always been wrong. Tuara and I were birds of a feather, in a way, because we wanted to care a lot, and then, when we had the opportunity – like right now – we ran away scared.

 

Except I hadn’t run. For once, I’d dared myself to stick around, to try my hand at giving a , and then I had watched stock still as Tuara turned and sprinted away like a jogger, carrying herself as far away from me as possible on those amazing legs of hers. And now I was really up the creek, because I was still stuck here, alone, and I’d already given so much that there was none left not to give. It was actually, physically impossible not to care about her at this point, and then all at once it became excruciating.

And here I was, thinking I was worth it.

 

“No, I’m not,” I said, the playfulness gone, the slight hold the bourbon had over me vanishing like actors behind a curtain. “The fact is, even if you could save me, I wouldn’t let you, because it would only lead to you getting hurt down the road. Without me, tantalizing you all the time, you would inevitably get so fed up with the inactive mess that has become your life that you would end offing yourself by either your own hand or getting someone else to do it for you.”

 

As I spoke, I turned my gaze back towards the bourbon I had stolen and saw Mini-Grokk, swimming laps in the still-full shot of whiskey. My conscience, drowning itself in alcohol. What lovely poetry.

 

The Skakdi, I registered deep in the recess of my mind, had a lovely backstroke.

 

“The truth is, I’m fine with my niche. I will do whatever it takes, whenever I need to, if it means keeping the people I care about safe. I always have. Even if you hate me for it, even if you despise me and burn the pictures of me and erase my name from the annals of history, you will do so because I kept you safe. And that dedication – the dedication you used to have – is what makes me me. Not the vanity, or the clothes, or the weird aversion to letting people I hook up with live. The dedication.”

 

Tuara’s eyes were widening as I spoke, and her slouch metamorphosed into a soldier’s ramrod posture. I could see the tension in her body as I advanced even closer towards her, now leaving us with a phalange’s worth of space between each other. My eyes were brimming with power, and grit, and maybe even a bit of lucidity.

 

My conscience in manifest was standing on my shoulder, now, drying himself off with my scarf like a towel and bemoaning how he could feel the effeminacy scalding his soul. In a way, he was comforting. My bean-sized best friend.

 

“Have I ever told you that you have the taste of a Rahi without a tongue?” the megalomaniacal midget asked from his perch on my collarbone, staring up at Tuara.

 

Shut up, Mini-Grokk.

 

“Sorry, not sorry.”

 

I didn’t bother with a reply, because my gaze was still fixed on Tuara. Her eyes were unreadable fog, whereas mine were violent storms of emotion; her entire being was logical, based on rational thought, where the throne that claimed control of my actions was nestled firmly in my heart, gilded and decadent.

 

“If you want to come by tomorrow anyway, awesome. But don’t pretend that you’re doing me any favors, and I’ll give you the same courtesy.”

 

I reached out my left hand and moved up to Tuara’s neck, dropping the key into the inside of her jacket; the Toa of Fire turned on her heel, indignant, and went to leave before I stopped her with a single question.

 

“So, if you really came just to scold me, why couldn’t it wait until the regular viewing hours instead of the middle of the night?”

 

That one didn’t get a reply: Triple D turned again after a minute and began marching left. She was out of sight in seconds, and I hooked the door with one foot behind her and slammed it shut with a rattling BANG! Mini-Grokk slid down my chest and landed in the glass of bourbon again as I sat down, snorkeling and making a variety of fish-like shapes in the alcohol.

 

Finally, he surfaced again, and his face was curious; he was hanging onto the glass with the undersides of his arms, keeping himself supported as though he were doing a pull up.

 

“So…where DID you get this bourbon?”

 

I sighed.

 

*****

 

Two hours ago…

 

The bartender was pretty enough: she was tall and slight, a Toa of Lightning, with friendly, sparkling blue eyes like freshly squeezed Bula juice and a smile that could light up a cave. She was bright and charming, sharp as nails when she wanted to be, but her eyes had the timid look of an animal that had escaped from a zoo and was scared of returning.

 

“So, what’s your story?” she asked, sitting down across from me as she slid me the bottle of bourbon and two shot glasses I had ordered. I had chuckled to myself, pouring two shots.

 

Love, there’s not enough bourbon in the world for my story.

 

I shrugged, downed a shot, set the glass on the table; the bourbon marinated in my throat for a second before washing down the hatch, and I sighed, looking up at her.

 

“I’ve killed…a lot of people.”

 

Suddenly, her eyes couldn’t light much of anything. They were darker, more fearful, and I could see her reminiscing about something – something tragic – in her eyes. I didn’t comment, though, I just let her do her thing. Bam. Another shot of bourbon down. Then another. Then another. Then another. I wanted to get drunk, at long last. I’ve worked eighteen months to get drunk.

 

Please, someone up there. Take pity. Let me get blitzed.

 

“Like, I’ve killed…so many people. I get it, I get it, I know, it was wrong, but it wasn’t my fault! It’s just circumstance. It’s just that I can’t be what they want to turn me into – what she wants to turn me into!”

 

The bartender stood up and began to powerwalk – bordering on a run – away from her perch, towards the backdoor.

 

“No, please!” I called back, standing up and making an attempt to intersect her on her path. “Don’t go. I’m lost.”

 

“You’re in…the Lavapool Inn…” she whispered, choked, bordering on panting, as I caught the sides of her pretty, pretty, oh so pretty young head. “And I’m gonna call the Guard…”

 

Her eyes dimmed like the ghosts of stars coming off a supernova.

 

“No, not physically lost. Metaphorically. Existentially. I am So. Far. Gone.”

 

Mine fed off whatever light they gave, thrashing about like the whips of a lion tamer, weeping and moaning and gnashing their teeth in a choked, excited anguish.

 

Tonight, my year and a half long quest to end the curse for sobriety would come to a crashing, screaming halt.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“E-Emarosa…”

 

“Emarosa…can I tell you a secret? One I’ve never told anyone before, and might never tell again? It’s big. I need…I need to get it off my chest.”

 

The poor girl couldn’t shake her head, so I massaged her cheeks, brushed away the first instances of tears, and gently helped her nod.

 

“I care about people. I care…a lot about them. But I can’t care enough to change myself. I just can’t. It won’t let me.”

 

I was still carrying the bourbon: lifting the bottle to my chest like a traveler in the desert would a gourd as he slowly died of thirst. Bourbon washed down my throat and massaged away at the eye of the hurricane that I was slowly becoming before the bartender’s eyes. With eyes that were tearing up partially from alcohol consumption and partially from sheer internal agony, I regarded Emarosa as I would a goddess come to life.

 

Someone to listen. At last.

 

“Please…I don’t want any trouble,” Emarosa gasped between sobbing breaths; no tears fell, because I had my thumbs positioned in a way that I could effectively neutralize her tear ducts. That was good, because if we both cried, that would defeat the purpose of her listening to me. Being stronger than me.

 

“Sweetie, baby…love…I don’t, either,” I gasped, moving my hands down to her shoulders. “But all they’ve left me with – all I got – is trouble, trouble, cha-rubble.”

 

More bourbon. God, I was doing it, it was happening. I was getting drunk. I should have never talked to Tank.

 

I could feel my grip, already tenuous at best, starting to slip.

 

“I can be so many things. I can be a doctor, an actor, a writer, a psychologist, a detective, a lover, but you know what I can’t be? I can’t be good, Emarosa. I can’t be a good guy, because it’s the one thing I never sat down and learned how to be. And it turns out that people don’t want doctors, actors, writers, psychologists, detectives, lovers, they want good guys. They want a world full…of good guys. And it turns out that I’m not qualified. I mean, how would I be? What would I have to do to make her accept me? Open a soup kitchen? Make friends with an orphan?”

 

More bourbon and a bitter laugh. I could feel a weight lifting off my chest.

 

“And it took me a while to realize this…but there’s always a need for a bad guy. Someone who can even the scale, someone who gives the good guys and the people who love them a reason to exist. That’s why I do what I do, Emarosa. That’s why so many people have died – because I care enough about them to make them hate me, to give them purpose. And now she wants to change that – but I can’t tell her no, because that would hurt her, Emarosa. And I can’t hurt her, because I love her. That’s my secret. There it is.”

 

More bourbon. C’mon, c’mon, c’monnnn.

 

“I love someone. A lot. Because she knows everything about me, knows my mind, knows my feelings, knows what I do, and she still cares. So I can’t help but to love her, and now…I can either hurt her, or I can hurt everyone else. Do you understand where that leaves me, Emarosa?”

 

The tears were starting to well up in her eyes, so I moved my thumbs back up and crushed her tear ducts again. My vision blurred, both from bourbon and from tears, tears which started to stream down my face as my voice began to crack and it became more and more difficult to swallow.

 

“All I know how to be is a bad guy with purpose, Emarosa. All I can be is what I have to be, and that’s hurting them. So I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place: I can either hurt the people that I care about, or I can strip them of their purpose. I don’t want to have to make that choice, love. I can’t make it…but it’s making me. It’s got a hold on me, and it won’t let go, not anymore…and now it’s telling me that you have to die, or what I’ve just told you will come back to hurt you over, and over, and over. And I don’t want to hurt you, but there’s only so much that the average gal can take....”

 

Her voice caught, and somehow, tears escaped even though the ducts were crushed. This only served to break my heart more; more tears ran down my face in unison with hers, and I could feel us bond.

 

“Please…please, no, don’t…”

 

“But I have to, Emarosa,” I wept, my voice cracking like an adolescent’s. “Because by not hurting you…I’m hurting you even more. Do you understand why this is so hard for me? It’s hard because you have become a very existential problem for me. A crisis, some would call it.”

 

“Just…just please, no, please…just let me go…”

 

My tears began streaming even more, illuminating my bright azure eyes as I shook my head through quiet sobs.

 

“Al…alright,” I croaked quietly, look down and closing my eyes as I released her face. “Go. Thank…thank you for listening, Emarosa. I’m sorry.”

 

The Toa of Lightning began to run right past me, towards the front door. My knees shook with pain and sorrow as I took a second to support myself and readjust my posture—

 

And then I turned and activated my Calix, coming up from behind her with speed that she couldn’t possibly outmatch and grabbing onto her jawbone, ripping it to the left with a sickening crunch. Emarosa dropped like a sack of bricks, me coming down right after her; I sat and stared for a second at her body, frozen forever in a moment of gradually-dawning hope, before I took a sip of bourbon and leaned my head back against the barstool…drunk.

 

*****

 

“Found it.”

 

I took a final shot of bourbon, took off my blazer, and crumpled it up like a pillow on the foot of the cot, resting my head against it and closing my eyes. When the guards came by the next morning and checked my cell, they’d find a less-than-half full bottle of whiskey underneath the bunk, an empty glass next to it, and, still nestled against the wall, a full shot of bourbon. My conscience was doing a dead man's float on the crests of the waves created by the alcohol as dust settled onto its surface.

 

Who was the shot for? Ssssh.

 

It’s a secret.

 

-Tyler

[Mr. Coffee]

IC: Fiera

"Peaceful?" I said, my eyes narrowing in a piercing gaze. "If you say 'I spy with my little eye', you're gonna get hit." I warned him, knowing full well what kind of peaceful things to do are there. In my head, 'peaceful' and 'fun' were mutually exclusive.

[Dralcax]

IC Fehron

Fehron saw the shuriken flying back at him. He reflexively stopped them in midair. Throwing them back, he increased the torque of their spin, making them difficult to catch.

[- JL -]

IC: Axeron

 

But by then, Axeron was barreling away from Fehron's shuriken, and 2 throwing knives - red hot from heating it, was slicing the air in half on its path towards Fehron.

 

"You still don't understand, do you......" He said, and once again, he continued running around the group. By now, the heat was nearly self sustaining - granted, it would eventually dissipate, but in an area that is naturally warm already, heating would be slow. The creaking helped blind the sound of his voice, which moved as he went, and his footsteps were silent, his mask cleverly activated to allow a faster reaction - every step he made was pre-planned, and he knew exactly how to change his balance each landing to create as little of an impact as possible.

[Geardirector]

IC: Butra

 

But a surprise was in store for Axeron. As quick and agile as he was, there was little chance he would spot the crooked tree root that slowly nudged into position, prepared to trip him by his ever so swift feet. The trees nearby, which were surprisingly numerous, had branches at the ready, awaiting Butra's command.

[- JL -]

IC: Axeron

 

Agility and speed wasn't the only thing the Calix granted - and he had trained out of himself. It wasn't hard to spot the root. Although he didn't know if there had been an external cause to it, he did spot it, know what it could do - and decided to use it to test a theory.

 

He ran right on course, kicking his right leg forward, into the tree root, and smashed right through the dry, dry piece of wood like it was already used as a source of heat, burned.

 

Maybe that was why they called it the Charred Forest. Butra would have to do better than that.

 

But it had been enough time it was a stalemate. Axeron needed - wanted - to go on the offensive, to show Fehron and Butra exactly who he was....and why they couldn't compare.

 

"Happy Birthday."

 

Twisting his body and sliding for a bit, he held out his hands, and accurately blasted a long stream of fire at Butra's mask.

[Madu Cabolo]

IC: Kaldrus

The Toa of Ice remained silent. He reactivated his mask of stealth. "Stay here," he said to Ka'tru.

Kaldrus quietly walked up the slope, keeping in the shadows to maximize his mask power. He heared a pebble drop from the ledge above him. He turned just in time to see large Lava Ape leaping off the ledge above. It landed with a crunch, breaking the stones right in front of the Ice Toa. It gave a roar, and swiped at Kaldrus with its massive forearm. Kaldrus dodged just in time to get a glimpse of the infected masks that had been fitted onto its shoulders...

 

OOC: Kopekemaster, sorry for taking so long to respond.

[Elemental Ussal]

OOC: Keep in mind that dodging every attack, even with a cailix is still considered godmodding.

 

I.C. Kotahk's snow that he spread across the ground minutes earlier had completely melted from the fire by now. Kotahk fired a stream of ice at Axeron while he was hurling a firestream at Butra's disgruntled mask.

[Geardirector]

OOC: So, I have to do better, do I, how about this?

 

IC: Butra

 

The rapidly melting snow and ice had given Butra an idea, and he'd quickly gathered the muddy water in half buried pools made of leaf. These makeshift "containers" were held by wooden branches ready to throw the "water bombs" the way he ordered them.

 

When Axeron unleashed his attack, Butra sprung one of the containers, a spray of water quickly dampening the fire stream.

 

A few sparks flew past his mask, and he could feel burning stings peppering his mask.

 

"A small price to pay"

 

A cloud of steam resulted from the clash, one that Butra could easily see through.

 

Butra still had three baskets left, and immediately launched them simultaneously towards Axeron's general area, making sure to cover as wide an area as possible with the water splashes

 

OOC: So, combined ice blast and water bombardment, this is going to be fun to read.

Edited February 4, 2013 by Geardirector

[Kopekemaster]

IC Ka'tru:

Ka'tru had heard the sound of something landing on the rocky terrain. Something big. He then decided it would be a good time to run towards the sounds, his sword at the ready. He turned a corner into a small opening and saw Kaldrus fighting the largest Lava Ape he had ever seen. Ka'tru then used a small amount of his elemental energy to stun the creature for a few moments to catch up to them.

"Those masks.... The same as on the Muaka (OOC: That's what it was, right?)" Ka'tru said to Kaldrus, then looked back at the Lava Ape. It had started to stir again.

 

OOC: Shoulders? Is that where you think they would be? I just looked at the picture.

[Dapper-Sama]

[iC]Akamaru carefully surveyed Ta-Koro. Nothing seemed wrong. Seemed.

 

[OOC] I'm bored. Think I'll join the fray? Where is everybody!?

[- JL -]

OOC: Depends on how easy they are to dodge. And how good you make it so.

 

IC: Axeron

 

The problem with these water bombs was that they were nothing compared to a Toa of Water's pressure and adept control. And, despite how strong they were thrown.....

 

Leaves didn't make very good water balloons.

 

The main issue Axeron had was that he didn't like to get wet. That, and that ice beam coming right at him. In response to both of the attacks, Axeron played a simple, easy fix to both of them - an intense barrage of fireballs from the right hand, which easily cut down the baskets of leaves, evaporated some of the water and let the other just splatter to the ground - and a beam of fire from his left hand, placing the ice beam at a stalemate.......

 

Until the real fun began. "So....2 of you know that facing 1 person is easier with 4 hands. But you don't know unity. You only know....the easy stuff."

 

Twisting out of the way, he snapped his fingers, and out rose from one of the holes Butra had dug a vortex of fire. Axeron had happily located the spot, it being damper and as such much cooler than the area, and now that Butra didn't have any water holes left, AND the starting point for the flame was much closer to him, this got harder to dodge.

 

Of course, Axeron had yet to see Butra actually use his powers the way his powers were really meant to be used, so he didn't doubt Butra could stop it.

[Elemental Ussal]

I.C. Kranuka

The matoran was tired of watching this. He wasn't going to let a toa ruin his day. He rushed into the fight. Kranuka wielded a superior blade. It was sharpened to the point that it cut the sheath. It was more powerful than any other blade he knew of, but like all good things, it had a weakness. It was a very short blade. A dagger, more-so, and Kranuka had short arms because he was a matoran. These added up to a horrible disadvantage of range.

 

He wasn't doing this... It was stupid. It was reckless. It was how matoran get their faces mopped up off the floor after a battle. But Kranuka didn't care, he took the risk anyway. If there was ever an adventure Kranuka never took, it was in an alternate universe.

 

Kranuka charged like a Kane-Ra. Rushing toward Axeron, his skills at weaponry would be put to the test. He shoved his sword at the place where Axeron kept his knives hoping to spill the rest of them on the ground. He had to be about out of knives by now.

[Light]

IC: Erif grinned. "Nah, I was gonna suggest going for a walk or something like that." The archer shrugged. "May not be what you're used to, but better than sitting around."

[Guest X-G.12]

IC: [Kersill] [outside of Ta-Koro]

 

Kersill read the plaque outside of Ta-Koro, the heat from the volcano washing over his mask. according to it, there were Ta-Matoran guards watching everywhere. he dismissed reading it and walked into Ta-Koro. reading the characters on the armor from the Muaka cat cave, he walked to the address. Matoran outside were hauling furniture out and one was taking bids on it. he approached the crowd, wondering what the heck had got them worked up. "350 widgets! sold to Xsendir!" "what is this?" Kersill asked some matoran, but they flitted out without telling him. only a few remained, obviously the buyer of the house and a few friends. "who are you?" Kersill asked the owner. "Xsendir, of the Ta-Koro guard!" the matoran said proudly. "and you own this armor, I assume?" Kersill handed Xsendir the armor. after examining it, Xsendir handed it back. "not mine. I think it might have been Aven, who owned this house before me." he said. "and where is he now?" Kersill asked "and what was he doing in a Muaka cat cave?". "he's dead, or so people believe. as for the Muaka cat, well, he was sort of crazy to begin with". great, I journeyed across the island just to be told that the matoran that owned the armor is dead. "well, thank you anyways" Kersill said. "hey, you look like the adventurous type, can I join you on your quest?" Xsendir asked. "how do you know i'm on a quest?" Kersill asked. "oh please. everyone's on a quest nowadays". Kersill looked him over several times and nodded. "fine, you can come. but you've got to be quick, stealthy, and not stupid" "fine with me!" Xsendir said, as he went inside to pack.

[Dralcax]

IC Fehron

Now expecting something to fly back at him, Fehron more easily stopped the throwing knives in midair.

 

IC Botan

"Water balloons? Really?" Botan asked Butra. "This is how it's done." Botan grew several tall cacti as a barrier to keep Axeron in one place. The highly efficient root system soaked up groundwater, effectively protecting them from fire, and their prickly thorns stopped Axeron from touching them.

[- JL -]

OOC: What groundwater????

 

IC: Axeron

 

And so the Toa of Fire watched as an ambitious Botan sprung up walls of cacti around him as Kranuka rushed right at him.

 

BAM!Instantly, anger flared. And just because Cacti were wet, doesn't mean they weren't protected from heat. Drawing a sword, he sliced a perfect arc, cutting open the cage, and jumped out.

 

"You call yourself a Toa?" He said, and there was a noticeable anger in his voice, "And yet you just create random attacks without thinking of consequences. And now you, who claim to be defenders.....created a spiked plant for a matoran to smash into.

 

His eyes narrowed.

 

"Good job."

 

Twin fireballs flew at Fehron and Botan.

[Dapper-Sama]

[iC] Akamaru focused his abilities on a nearby clearing within Ta-Koro. Then, Poof. Not one full second later, he reappeared at the clearing he was concentrating on one moment ago. He observed his surroundings. There was audible conversation about cacti and water balloons. Hmm, is it worth my my time? Perhaps?...Perhaps not? It obviously hast been going on for a considerable length of time. Decisions, decisions... He mused.

[Madu Cabolo]

OOC: Well, I always imagined the infected masks would be on the shoulders.

 

Anyway....

 

IC: Kaldrus

Kaldrus froze the lava ape in its tracks as it tried to get up, with a flick of his hand. "It wil break out soon. It is too warm here to sustain the ice for long. We must leave." Kaldrus started to run up the hill to get out of sight of the ape...

[Kopekemaster]

IC Ka'tru:

Ka'tru followed. He kept running beside Kaldrus until they came to the end of a rock wall. Ka'tru then pulled Kaldrus behind it.

"Activate your mask. I will go in spirit form to see where he is." Ka'tru then stood up straight, activated his mask, and went out around the corner to find the Lava Ape. He saw it going down the mountain. He then went back to his body and told Kaldrus the news.

[Madu Cabolo]

IC: Kaldrus

"Okay." Kaldrus hoped that the lava ape wouldn't hurt the villagers in the town below. They continued up the mountain. "What I don't understand," said Kaldrus, "is why the monsters seem to be coming from here, the center of the island. Ice or jungle rahi would not be coming to the center of the island unless there was some dark force compelling them."

He thought for a while as they trudged up the barren slope.

"And another thing, why the fire mountain? There is a city inside it. It does not seem likely that the Ta-Koronans would be manufacturing a makuta virus. That means there must be some kind of lair below the city. The question is, how do we get down to the lair?"

[Kopekemaster]

IC Ka'tru:

Ka'tru thought for a moment.

"We need someone else. Someone who knows this area inside and out. Someone who might know of an unexplored cave."

 

OOC: I think we should work Vez in here.

[Elemental Ussal]

I.C.

The BAM sound was indeed there, but not the sound of Kranuka slamming into the cacti, but the sound of his sword crashing into it. Kranuka had held his sword in front of him as he charged, so the sword was the first thing to hit. Unfortunately, he was going so fast that he still made contact with a few thorns. It didn't hurt him. He wore good armor and cacti thorns aren't very sharp. Just prickly. He was kind of disgusted, but not mad about it.

[Dralcax]

IC Fehron

Catching them off guard, the fireballs struck Fehron and Botan. Fehron glared at Axeron. He formed a long chain, with a handcuff at the end, snapping like jaws, and whipped it at Axeron.

Edited February 10, 2013 by Dralcax

[Dapper-Sama]

[iC] After short bursts of Kanohi-Fueled teleportation, Akamaru arrived at the source of the commotion. He stuck to the shadows and observed in silence.

[- JL -]

IC: Flay

 

- Some time ago -

 

She looked up, at the roster list. Dorgath's name was listed at the bottom; originally given a set of 'default' armor, Flay had asked for him to receive a customized forgery; Soon, Dorgath was handed armor of his own specifications. He'd also been given a shiny new badge, and each member of her team was also given a small tag to signify service under her team.

 

Speaking of which, her team had also received a name - The 'Renouncers', named due to them each having 'renounced' the powers of a Toa (Not that they really had a choice, but meh, sounds cool).

 

And with the new member, refurbished gear and a whole new road ahead of them, The Renouncers.......took a rest.

[Makuta of Time]

OOC: Seeing that no one really responded, I'm just going to move them.

 

Flaredrick and Lavist to Po-Wahi

[Visaru]

IC- Dorgath - Ta-Koro Guard headquarters

 

Dorgath still couldn’t get over how amazing it was that he was now a member of a team of Ta-Koro Guard Matoran.

Yesterday he had been a lava farmer, complete with the boring repetitiveness of the job, the uselessness, the feelings of inadequacy. Now he was a fighter, part of an elite group, with a badge and beautiful new armor.

Dorgath still couldn’t get over his new look, and often found himself staring at the shiny new metal plates that covered him. The armor was fantastic, new, and he felt empowered while wearing it. The Ta-Koro torchlight gleamed off of it’s reflective surface and outlined it’s designs and craftsmanship.

He raised his eyes from the armor to look around at the Matoran team, sitting around in one of the many rooms of the Ta-Koro guard headquarters. Their current exiting mission: do nothing.

He leaned back in the lava rock chair, lazily watching ash particles drift through the air as his mind furiously working, dreaming up new ways to use his position to influence the thoughts of the public.

[Franco]

IC: Today, Torea reflected, was not a good day. She had finally pooled together the resources to move to Ta-Koro and escape her stagnant position in the Village of Water. Her old hut had been purged of possessions and bills paid in full. Tomorrow, she was to start anew completely. A new job as a representative of the Horsemen Company. A new home in a cozy apartment fitted with her tablets and a stock of sugary food for comfort. A new life, full of adventure...Just not too much. Old habits died hard, safety among them. Her 'adventure' would amount to the finding of a new group of friends and a tenure working a job she had little experience in. She only wanted a little variety. Today was not a good day not least because the above was the plan and not the reality. Torea had gone looking for a rebirth in the spice of life itself. Yet the spice had proven too strong for her. And it wasn't rebirth she had found, just death staring right back at her face. "Money. Now," Hissed Death. Its gaze was murderous as it prodded her with a launcher. 'Death' was, collectively, a gang that had beset her as she wandered the alleys of the koro en route to her new job. They had backed her up to a sooty wall and now stood in perfect position surrounding her. A handsome Fe-Toa with sharp cheekbones and a firm Calix' jaw watched the entrance to the alleyway. A scarred vortixx, leader of the group, hung back with lightstone rifle held casually. And before her was the brute force of a gargantuan Po-Skakdi and his similarly powerful zamor launcher. They demanded money, apparently convinced that she had some hidden in her armor, and threatened to kill her if she made a sound or did not offer it up promptly. And she had left her money in the apartment for safekeeping. Hence, the gang would kill her. If Torea had been in her hometown, or were there solely one present, she wouldn't be so distraught; she carried a concealed knife and had trained to beat muggers in case one thought her prey. Three-on-one and in unfamiliar territory was an entirely different matter. These guys moved as a unit. Calling for the guard, she'd die and they'd escape. Struggling, she'd die and they'd move on. Doing nothing was equivalent to a death wish. And so, in her mind, the quandrary was nigh complete. Karzhani, the only way she could be saved is if a hero, some bolt from the blue like a comic book first toa, dashed in to help her. But the first toa were dead. And comic books weren't real. Today was not a good day. Seemingly on cue, she watched a point of light fly through the air. It hovered over the heads of the gathered gang for a second, frozen in time. Then she watched it clatter to the rock floor as it descended in perfect completion of its arc trajectory. A distraction, she guessed. Perhaps a hero had come after all. That was how it worked in the books, wasn't it? A distraction of something thrown allowed an ally of justice to sneak in from the opposite direction, infiltrate the enemy, and defeat them. Hope glimmered in Torea's heart, giving it wings. She was therefore disappointed to see the criminals look in the other direction. Nothing moved. There was no hero, after all, only Rockhead the skakdi muttering again that she had three seconds to give him the money or she died. Her eyes stung with tears. The distraction wasn't intentional, just something tossed onto the road by Ta-Koro updrafts. Now she was going to die. And there was nothing to be done about it. No rescue. "Three..." Still she didn't move. She blinked the wetness away, apathetic towards the salt in her wounds. What did it matter? The world would consume her if she protested or she didn't. There was no good in the world in that moment. She was about to die. Her adventure was ending before it started. And all of this, because she had left her few widgets in her apartment. She just gulped down the lump in her throat and ruminated on the unfairness of it all. "Two..." Something glinted in the harsh light of the volcanic landscape. She blinked, torn from her thoughts, and zeroed in on the metallic reflection. It was right where the sparkling object had landed--no, it was the sparkling object. A...Pair of ray-bans? "One-" "HEADS UP, BUCKETFACE!" Several things happened simultaneously. Torea's heart leaped. A gust of wind pummeled her from the front. And the Toa of Iron whirled around, hands balling into fists and flying up- KRAK -And introduced his face to a flying foot in a spray of blood. A gray and black blur resolved into a humanoid, airborne form springing away from the staggering toa. It flew to the ground and landed on its feet with back to the small congregation. The shadow knelt briefly, retrieving something from the ground before it stood with straight back to lift it. Hope rose in Torea again as she observed the figure. It was clad in dark bandages wrapped neatly around its shape in what was less of armor than a sheath for a weaponized body, tall and broad enough to be a male toa. Its build was that of a boxer: Slight and lean legs conjoined at a narrow waist which supported a thick torso. Subtracting the bandages' thickness, she figured it was built regardless of race, though what it was had yet to be seen...The soundbite of insult she had just heard led her to believe, in conjunction with the shape, that it was a male of some sort. It didn't matter, really. There was someone here. Things weren't so grim. This guy seemed to oppose the gang. Maybe he was just a rival, she thought, maybe this one was out to get her as well. And maybe he's a hero. "Hey hey hey, listen up, you sons of piraka!," The shadow called without turning its head. Its voice was suave and utterly confident. "When you hear people talking about a wayfaring savior of the oppressed, conqueror of evil, slayer of untold makutaspawn, they're talking about ME!" Torea's jaw dropped. She suppressed a sigh. She hadn't gotten gang opposition. It was worse. The shadow's hand rose to its kanohi. It pressed forwards. "I rule this city, these be my people, and I'm hardly gonna let my subjects get abused by lowlife mongrels like you. So I won't give you the respect of my nom de guerre..." She'd gotten a pumped up kid high on toa power. His head was so full of hot air it could be a balloon. That was hardly a gift from the heavens. Silently, she cursed the name of Mata Nui. He spun around. Though the gray ray-bans left his eyes invisible, his gaze seemed to pierce straight through the air and etch bravado into her soul. He was so full of it, he even dressed up in full bandages, a grinning Miru, and ray-bans. All of it figured. "I'm here to kick ### and take names." He pointed one wrapped finger to each of them in turn, going from groaning toa to icy vortixx to jeering skakdi. You little jerks wanna screw with my girls, I'm gonna screw you up!" "I'm here to kick ### and take names." Yeah, right. You're here to die and lose your name without ever getting anywhere, you dungbottomed excuse for a toa. You should've just stayed home and read one of your little-kid supertoa stories. Torea glanced at the Fe-Toa. His pretty little nose had been flattened and bled as he lay limply on the ground. You've got skill, but you're too darn naive to use it right. Now I'm gonna die. And the last thing I'll hear before I do is some egotistical brat prattling on about how very COOL he is. Great. "You've got a lot of nerve, declaring yourself lord of Ta-Koro," The vortixx said with a cold glare to the newbie. His eyes flickered about, sizing up the situation. He seemed to be using the speech to analyze the state of affairs. He was good; he played along with the kid's game in order to delay rather than seriously fight. He had turned to face the threat like the skakdi and the toa. Torea saw that he had one hand closed behind his back and wondered why. Balance with the sword? It was meaningless. You tend to pick up on all the little details, when you're about to die. That was just another. "And you've got a lot of nerve, cornering someone three-to-one," Retorted the figure. He raised his hands and made them light fists before his chest. "Then again, not like it for VILLAINS to be cowards." "My, you're sarcastic today, little toa," Quipped the vortixx. He raised the sword a little in response. "My, you're astute today, now, aren't you?" The area around the sunglasses lifted in an expression that seemed to smile without lips. "This banter is pointless." Scarface the vortixx stepped forwards. Something felt fake about the movement to Torea, something in it seemed too aggressive and bold. This wasn't the movement of the cunning gang leader she had seen before. This was the movement of a comic villain about to deliver an evil laugh and engage the hero. His sword rose above his head. "We have the girl. You move, she dies. Now come quietly or we'll make you." "Uh-uh-uh." Superhero shook his head. "You aren't laying a finger on my girl. Step away now and I won't be forced to-" Torea caught a flicker of motion in her eye. The vortixx' hand opened to suddenly splay against his back. Instantly, the Fe-Toa and Po-Skakdi tensed. Armor clicked on metal. And it came together in her head. How could she have been so stupid? The closed hand was a signal. When the newbie jumped in, the hand had become a fist for inaction. Now that it was open, the criminals would move as one to do their jobs. And the skakdi's included shooting her. That was it. They were alive, she was dead, it was done, time to go take her tour of karzhani. She folded her lids over her vision and prayed for it to be quick. "OH NO YOU DON'T YOU RAHIFLIPPERS!" BANG Death... ... ... ... Wait, if she was dead, why did she still feel tired? Why did the sound of metal on metal assail her ears? And why hadn't she felt any pain when the launcher went off? Torea opened her eyes to check. Battle greeted her. The Iron Toa apparently had risen--no longer with perfect facial structure, to be sure, but his kind were hardy enough to recover from a kick to the nose--and had conjured a two-handed ax with which he swung at the kid. The pair cursed quietly, swipe and counterpunch each ineffective in a trade of attacks; the kid's speed balanced by his foe's agility, neither could get an edge over the other, and so the fight raged on. The vortixx was watching the current fight with analysis apparent. And the skakdi was charging for something meters away. None of this interested Torea so much as her survival, though. A few more glances and she pieced the story together. The kid's swearing had been his recognition of the attack at her. He had launched a length of bandage that whipped away the launcher, sending its discharge into the wall above her, where a sizzling crater sat. The skakdi ran to get it as the newbie charged to attack. He was intercepted by Mr. Cheekbones, cutting the bandage to prevent further control. And so the current fight was for newbie to beat the toa before both toa and skakdi could take him on at once. Torea focused her attention to the fight. Little had changed. Both fighters favored evasive movements, and both tried to flank their enemy. But neither one was more skilled than the other, it seemed, and the battle of speed versus agility was even as far as she could tell. They darted back and forth, in and around each other, but neither one landed a blow. And if either did have the advantage, it wasn't the kid. He didn't have the range afforded by the axes of the Toa of Iron's axes. If he was closer in the alleyway, it looked like he would win, but there was just too much space. The kid dashed forwards. Cheekbones' right axe swung forwards to greet him, and in short order was parried, letting the bandaged warrior speed on...Into the second axe, coming around to split open the kid. He was trapped in forwards movement by the two blades. Torea's heart sank. He may have been an idiot, but at least he had stalled a little. Not a hero, just someone who stalled for her. She couldn't have escaped into the fight before without a chance of injury. And now she couldn't escape without death. Then the kid slowed. No, time itself seemed to slow. He was skidding instead of running, halting instead of flying. One foot had come back behind him. It had only hindered his impetus a microsecond. Not enough to stop movement. But enough to spring past the axe in a pounce with fingers clawed and grab the toa with one hand while raking his kanohi with the other. The nose, already shattered, gushed crimson. The kanohi was torn from Cheekbones' face and crushed. His trademark sharp structure was smashed with a yell as he was thrown away, into a wall. This time, Torea was pleased to see that there was not even a groan out of the incapacitated toa. "One down," The kid proclaimed to Torea's leaping heart. At least he was skilled enough to beat one. "Only two more of you bloodsucking dungstains to go!" He spun around. The glasses stopped to look in front of him. And he was blitzing off again, the skakdi firing zamors right behind his every move. Out of the frying pan, Torea thought glumly, Into the fire. He was skilled. That was without doubt. He was agile, strong, fast, and tough. The kid certainly knew how to fight. He won his last battle by switching from a match of speed to power at the last second. But how long could he hold out? He was steadily slowing; assuming he was a toa again, his Kakama was running low. And then the skakdi would hit him. It didn't matter if the Guard showed up or not in this fight, because it was too fast for them to have an effect even if they were hearing this. And she doubted it. It wasn't just their isolation here, it was also that the Ta-Koro Guard had taken losses against the attack on the hospital and had withdrawn the main part of its force to protect its own following the jailbreak and subsequent assassination of Vakama. Like it or not, she had to count on this newbie to get her through the fight. The battle matched her thoughts. The newbie was now so slow that the zamors passed millimeters by him each time. He was getting led on and on into the alley, driven into a corner. Speed couldn't save him there. He'd die amongst the trash, made a molten mess by the sphere, and she'd die too. But in spite of it he persevered. He moved on, and on, and as she watched Torea felt her faith in him grow. He hadn't died before in a trap. He wouldn't die now. One step. He was meters away from the corner. Two steps. He blurred completely out of sight. Three steps. The kid flew in behind the skakdi. The criminal had predicted it, of course. He brought his launcher around. So depleted of speed by one last burst, the mystery attacker couldn't hope to dodge. Acid would melt his suit and body alike. Even if he survived, to beat a skakdi in close combat, with their advantage in strength, was not likely. The kid would die whatever the probable outcome. So he didn't do the probable. He did the unexpected. And Torea could only watch as he threw a bolt of lightning, too quick to aim, right into the front of the skakdi. His body spasmed to send the last zamors into the wall before collapsing. The kid breathed rapidly, slightly deeply, in through his mouth and out through his nose. He stood up to full height. And then he pointed at the vortixx. "You are my last opponent, you worthless piece of scum. You just watched as your comrades fell!," He cried. "You've got this coming to you, and who better to deliver it than rightful lord of Ta-, yeah?" "And you're no better," Snapped back Scarface. He lifted the broadsword again. "I've trusted them to buy me time to determine your fighting style and weaken you. They've done that much, and I, leader, owe them that." He paused. "But look at yourself!" Scarface shouted, pointing to the kid with genuine fire in his eyes. "You're arrogant, crude, and merciless. You don't fight for your people. You fight for yourself and show off to your people!" The vortixx took his sword in both hands. His eyes narrowed. "Sure, I'm a criminal, sure, I'm terrible, but you're a prideful son of a piraka who just dithers on about the impossible. And I. Hate. Pride." He let the last note of his speech hang in the air. The field was silent. And so it was also silent that the two charged, and the most furious of the skirmishes was joined. The broadsword slashed, always through empty air, but always ever so slightly closer to the kid. And always, ever so slightly, the kid found less room to fall back against the superior length of the weapon attacking him, no room for any of his close quarters tricks and no charge for his mask or element. His defense was being chipped away at bit by precious bit. And this time, it had little offense to back it up. Torea felt herself in a similar position. What did it matter if the kid saved her or not? What did it matter if she lived, anyway? Here she had almost thought she had found a hero. But what if the vortixx she called 'Scarface' was right? The kid was clearly prideful. He bounced in and bragged before seriously engaging foes, guessing that he could win, reckless and impulsive. Like an actual toa. They rushed in and tried to save people. Even assuming they did, what was to say they weren't just looking out for themselves? Selfishness could be inherent in them, too. To these questions, she had no answers. "I'm prideful, yeah." The words broke the rhythm of her thoughts. They cut into combat, not destroying it but instead imbibing it with something else. The words of the kid had brought its element of debate back. He looked up mid-dodge. She caught the stare, but it wasn't directed at her. He was looking at something a thousand miles away. "I'm impassioned, I'm arrogant, I don't look before I leap. But that's not a bad thing." He jumped away from a stab. He was being driven into a corner again. His speech did not reflect it. "A hero isn't supposed to be quiet and the bearer of shame, because how then is he supposed to inspire anyone? How can he get people to understand what's at stake and to fight for it?" The vortixx blinked. He did not falter in his relentless barrage of cuts and thrusts as he was nearly to the end of the chase into a dead end. Torea caught a lack of heart in them all the same. "A hero must be more real than anyone else, live more vivaciously than anyone else, feel more passion than anyone else, because as long as he is so, the people in supplication before him will aspire to be like him, the one who lives beyond the rest in a shroud of glory!," The kid declared. He fell back with the statement. Now his back was to the wall, same as Torea's. "A hero must be prideful to assure others that they can take enough pride to believe in themselves, too." "A HERO," He roared, plucking from the fallen zamor launcher a length of bandage and its end, "INSPIRES OTHERS TO BREAK THE VAULT OF HEAVEN AND REACH FOR THE STARS! NOT BECAUSE IT IS IMPOSSIBLE AND IMPOSSIBILITY MAKES IT BEAUTY, BUT BECAUSE 'IMPOSSIBLE', HE SAYS, 'IS JUST A WORD PEOPLE USE TO FEEL BETTER ABOUT GIVING UP'! "HE IS PRIDEFUL, AND HE IS ARROGANT, AND HE IS LEADER OF HIS PEOPLE!" Scarface swung in one last time with his broadsword. The kid couldn't dodge at the distance, and a blow to his torso without thick armor would be lethal. instead he caught it in a hook tailed with cut bandage, retrieved at the last second from the zamor launcher, before exploding a coiled fist into the vortixx' solar plexus. He withdrew both his weapons and walked away as the criminal clattered to the ground. "That is a hero." Torea looked towards him. Behind him was the sound of running feet and distant militiamen calling for surrender. The Guard had came after all. She smiled. She didn't need them. They'd won. Oh, Mata Nui, they'd won, and there were comic book heroes in the world, after all. "Hey, lady," The kid called. "You okay?" "Yeah," The matoran replied. He nodded and started to run. But Torea added: "Wait." The kid turned. He paused dutifully, stance relaxed and ready for anything. "Your name?" A pair of bandaged hands withdrew the sunglasses. His eyes shone, fiery gold and piercing. Then he drew up a few bandages around his torso, reconfiguring them to form a long and tie-like scarf across his upper body. He had a giant tattoo on his chest, all scales and in a circle coming to his neck, surrounding another of the Three Virtues. He grinned, showing perfect white teeth. Every inch of the young toa was a boxer invigorated by victory. "The name's 'Hero'. 'Hau' Hero." The hero turned away, revealing another scaled tattoo, with what looked like a snake head at the top and the same circle around the Six Principles. Then the toa was sprinting away as the guardsmen began to enter the other end of the alley. "And I've got a license to be awesome." Today, Torea reflected, as she agreed to questioning regarding the fate of the hunted criminals before her, was a good day.

Edited February 10, 2013 by Jerry Renault

[Dapper-Sama]

[OOC] Hath the fight broken up?

 

[iC] Akamaru slipped his hands onto the handle of his blade. Should he need to defend himself. He would be ready.

[- JL -]

IC: Axeron

 

Using this as a chance, Axeron reached out with his hand, placing it in the path of the chain but not in the path of the handcuff. Despite this, he still took another precaution; his other hand made sure to place flat throwing knives parallel against his hands, something Fehron probably didn't see. Hopefully he would think the chain wrapped around and was in contact with Axeron's arm; to stop him from fully trapping him without Axeron's way of escape.

 

Before the chain finally wrapped around his arm, Axeron unleashed his flame powers, using the metal as an easy conductor for heat.

[Elemental Ussal]

I.C. Kotahk applied his own ice powers to the chain from a distance, slowing down, but by no means stopping the heat conduction.

 

I.C. Kranuka

The matoran sliced through the cactus with his blade. He made his way past them to Axeron, and took a swing at his legs.

[- JL -]

IC: Axeron

 

The sounds of footsteps made Axeron turn in Kranuka's direction. As the matoran swung his sword, Axeron unleashed a side kick with his legs, catching the flat of the blade and pushing Kranuka away.

 

"This is not your fight. #$%& off, matoran, before I am forced to snap your neck."

[Dapper-Sama]

[OOC] I guess not.

 

[iC] Akamaru readied his blade. Should this conflict continue to escalate, someone is going to hit the ground, and Akamaru knew what would happen next. Surely, that unfortunate individual would receive further injury. He knew it was his duty to defend those who could not defend themselves. Who cares what 'side' they're on, if they should attack those who cannot, and/or will not strike back, the assailant will have many, many difficulties to deal with.

[Elemental Ussal]

I.C. Kranuka

"It's just as much my fight as yours. you fight one of us, and you fight us all." Kranuka cleaved towards him again.

[- JL -]

IC: Axeron

 

"I fight those I need to fight? You?"

 

Axeron drew his sword from it's hilt; blocking Kranuka's strike and holding both swords in a stalemate, and he quickly heated up Kranuka's sword through contact.

 

"Go home. Be 'defended' by these fools. Stop dreaming. This. Is. Not. Your. Fight."

 

He still held on to Fehron's chain, all of his remaining throwing knives still used as a cast to stop Fehron from utilizing the chain against him - a chain which still was conducting flames and heat to the Toa of Iron.

[Elemental Ussal]

I.C. Kranuka's short temper was roused. He had seen a chip of Axeron's sword fly off when the weapons clashed. Great. This fight couldn't last too long.

Kranuka felt the blade in his hands heat up, He twisted sideways to get out of the enemy blade trajectory while removing his sword from Axeron's, He set his stance, sword at ready, giving it a short chance to cool off.

 

I.C. Kotahk's cooling had finally given way to the heating of Fehron's chain. Kotahk didn't think Kranuka would last long in a fight against this new foe. He lifted his two-handed longsword above his head, and with insane speed, and pakari enhanced strength, brought it down at Axeron. His emotionless glare added to the fact that this powerhouse didn't care what pain Axeron could deal to him, through fire, sword piercing, or even death itself. The fight was ON, and Kotahk had no intention of backing down, or losing.

 

OOC: Dralcax, if you can respond soon, that would be great.

[Geardirector]

IC: Butra

 

The hole that Axeron launched a fire tornado from wasn't close enough to harm Butra so he ignored it.

 

He did, however, hear Axeron's snide comments to Kranuka.

 

"The defenders is open for all who wants to be a hero, not just Toa, arrogant fool"

 

"And while we're on the subject, there's something I omitted to mention when you demanded to know why we're doing this."

 

Butra took a step forward, so he could see Axeron more clearly,

 

"I, personally, joined this team becuase I have faith that it can work. For one very important reason: We already have accomplished good. Even when decieved by criminals, we were able to look past our differences and share others' point of view, something you've displayed a remarkable lack of interest in trying out"

 

"Eventually, we tracked our enemy to his lair, and prevailed against his traps and minions" We drove him on the run and imprisoned his foremost henchma... excuse me, henchwoman"

 

"What that tells me, is that we can do far better when actively working towards a common goal"

 

"That is all" Butra finished as he stared at Axeron.

 

With a quick snap of his fingers, Butra generated a bundle of the greenest vines he could muster, that quickly prooceed to tangle Axeron's legs, then started to tighten.

Edited February 12, 2013 by Geardirector

[- JL -]

IC: Axeron

 

He smiled. No matter how heroic they sounded, stupidity still ran in their blood.

 

Quickly, he willed the vines to burst into fire. Although they couldn't burn instantly, it was much easier to cut, and he had just enough time to launch himself forward -

 

And turn around casually and watch Kotahk's sword bear down upon the dirt.

 

His eyes flashed to Butra, and for a second, Butra could see the anger and pain locked behind the eyes and the emotionless face - and knew it was nothing like he had felt. "You don't have the right to call anyone arrogant, fool."

Edited February 14, 2013 by JL v2