Bzprpg - Ga-Wahi

[otter]

IC-Mila:

 

"You could've just poured some whisky down my throat, y'know," he replied, rolling his eyes. "The burn of that stuff is all it would have taken to pull me from my delerium. And it would have made the fact that I was getting a knife pulled out of my arm by a random Toa a bit easier to understand."

[ARROW404]

IC: NaroHe was glad he hadn't opted for "can I ask a question". He'd heard that one subverted too many times. Summoning what courage he had left, he dared to ask, "If you hate those who... Well... Like you said, then why haven't you killed most of the island already?"It was a legitimate question, and one he hoped against hope would stop him. At least for a bit, in the off-chance somebody might possibly pass by. But at this point, he doubted such a saving grace would be granted to him.

Edited January 1, 2013 by Draezeth

[Franco]

IC: "It is true that I hold scorn for many of this island," Wrath replied in his rasping whisper. "But all yet have a place in the Grand Work of Enlightenment. These roles vary based on deeds and circumstances.

 

"Some are remedied," He continued, "And take up my cause upon seeing the error of their ways. Some are allies on the field of battle if not in philosophy." He spread his arms wide to represent the full gamut of positions. "Others simply have yet to be contacted, while more like yourself are exemplified as those who have failed to defy the current system. There are many other services that can be provided by the people, these being enough examples, I hope, to prove that I do not wish to murder incessantly...That should answer your query."

 

His arms fell back to his sides. The berserker straightened totally.

 

"You may question why I have not killed you outright if all this is so. This is because I have given you honor: You are unbound and I am shackled so as to even our odds in conflict," Wrath explained. "I swear I will not use powers and that killing will be solely determined in unarmed combat; conversely, I have let you rise and wake so that you may act to combat my assault and fight or to flee into the jungle, wherein my large frame will inhibit my movement and you may escape without bloodshed."

 

His eyes pierced the matoran's with a laser's intensity. "Rest assured that this opportunity is given to you not out of a desire to live and let live, but to show you the verity of my view on this world. The machine will scythe you down regardless of any choice you take now, so death is inevitable." He paused. "The question is one of defiance: In the end, will you redeem yourself enough to confront your doom or retreat into craven acceptance?"

 

Wrath's helm lifted. His gaze flew beyond Haro's answering eyes now, into his brain and past that most clever of organs into the soul beyond.

 

"Fight or flight. Opposition or resignation. Make your choice."

 

Then his hand shot up and flew for the matoran's throat.

Edited January 1, 2013 by Jerry Renault

[ARROW404]

IC: Haro

The Matoran had only a split second to decide. He was not a fighter. He'd never held a weapon more dangerous than his coral knife, which he had been fingering as soon as the wrathful Toa had mentioned fighting. When the Toa leapt, instinct kicked in, and his pacifistic nature turned to flight. He leaped backwards, fueled by adrenaline. Had the situation not been so dire, he would have been impressed. But the situation was dire. No sooner had his feet made contact with the ground, than he was running into the jungle. He would let the Toa think what he would of him. Haro wanted to live another day.

 

As he dashed through the trees, leaves and branches whipped against his armor. He tried to repeat the Toa's words in his head. What had the Toa meant by resignation? And craven acceptance? Well, craven he understood, but acceptance? Of the so-called "order of things"? He didn't need these thoughts to come to the conclusion that the Toa was not all right in the head.

 

Haro dove over a fallen log. His foot caught on a branch, tripping him. He rolled down a drop on the other side, coming to rest in a concealed nook between two tree roots. Quickly huddling up and trying to calm his wild breathing, he listened for sounds of pursuit.

 

He now gripped his knife, the only remaining piece of the life he had left behind. He'd given his last carving away in exchange for the fruit earlier, and used up the only air bladder he had been carrying, while swimming earlier. He reflected again on the Toa's words. So he thought the world was just a machine that devoured people regardless. That there was no Mata Nui, only cruel, harsh fate. Haro shook his head. He wouldn't have it. He would run, but he would not resign. His fist clenched tightly, his knife roved over the tree's root until the symbol of the three virtues adorned it. He didn't know why he'd done it, but felt more at peace now he had. As if in doing so, he had defied his pursuer.

 

He focused once more on listening for the Toa. Before the Toa left for good, he wanted to tell him one last thing, but only once he felt safe in doing so.

[Snelly]

IC: Savina - Ga-koro -

 

"Welcome back, sweet dove," Anthyn cooed as she placed her bloodied hand on Savina's shoulder and pressed it lightly to give comfort. "You should tell me about your adventures in a short while. Why don't you stay with me for now?"

 

Savina's heart leaped at this suggestion, she had honestly been slightly worried that Anthyn might not care to have her around. This made her, happy. If she had even the slightest bit of guilt for seeming rather uncaring about Embok it was now forgotten. Savina nodded in response to Anthyn's offer. "Of course I'll stay with you!" She said, letting her excitement slip out a bit.

 

Anthyn had begun to lead Savina away from the haunting scene. Savina, having lived for more than a century alone in the jungle with just an Ash Bear for company, knew little if anything about who this Nokama was. Her sharp ears were hearing that name a lot, as people were yelling about her death and trying to hunt down her killer. Savina guessed that this Nokama was someone very important to the village, probably their elder by the sounds of it.

 

Savina had little care for these things though, the so-called 'civilized' world had long ago become quite a strange and alien place to her. She was rather out of her element here. Though now she was with Anthyn again, who was much more well versed in the ways of civilization and how to survive in it, or at least it seemed that way to Savina. Savina found it funny just how violent civilization was, it was a lot more peaceful in the jungle. Ga-koro, while normally seemed peaceful most of the time, had seen it's share of pointless violence and death. At least it seemed this way from Savina's perspective, and by Anthyn's example it seemed the way to survive the 'civilized' world was the same as the jungle, survival of the fittest, be the predator, not the prey.

 

"I miss the jungle, I knew how things worked there. It was also a lot more peaceful. But here in this village...I don't know what to expect. I got chased out of here just for taking a couple fruit. " She said thoughtfully, thinking about how she had previous left the village. "I mean, if they had wanted it for themselves so badly they shouldn't of just left them sitting out in the open." Savina had no concept of what a merchant was, what 'making a living' was, or law and order. In the jungle if she found fruit, or otherwise created it with her element, she simply took it and no one came chasing after her angrily or yelled at her. This place was simply insane.

 

She glanced at Anthyn, who was looking around, like as if she was trying to find someone.

Edited January 1, 2013 by Snelly

[Mr. Coffee]

IC: Tohi

 

The toa of air was working on her for the better part of the night, or at least that was how it felt to Tohi. She knew she won't be able to stand it for much longer, as she felt her eyes shutting, all strength leaving her. The water toa didn't feel bad though, just tired, and so, against all nature, she fell asleep while a scalpel was cutting in her back.

 

Her mind slipped into the realm of dreams. For a long time, she was simply staring at blackness. But then, she saw a figure over in the distance. Curious, her dream self floated towards the scene. THere was a figure chained to a wooden frame. In horror, she recognized it was her. And behind her, a faceless figure picked up something from a fire. "No... No, stop!" her dream self yelled, as she saw a metal rod, with yellow hot plaque welded on it's end, thrust towards her other self's back.

 

She woke up with a twitch, her breathing fast and heartlight flashing like crazy. Daylight shone into her eyes, calming her down a bit. Daylight. She was out cold for a good amount of time. Tohi found herself in the room alone, with ho idea who's room it was, but that didn't concern her that much now. She carefully turned around and stood up. She felt stitching on her back, lots of it. OK, that part wasn't a nightmare... she thought, remembering the plaque. There was something written on it. She summoned a small sphere of liquid protodermis, manipulating it to form a flat vertical surface and making a makeshift mirror for herself.

 

Turning her head as far as she could, Tohi tried to get a glimpse of her back. Where there used to be the big scars were now rows of stitches. She would forever bear those marks, but Liara seemed to have done remarkable job. It should hinder her movement only minimally once her tissue regenerated. But deep down, she knew that it would take a long time before the phantoms left, no matter how cured her skin was. Looking more carefully, she found what she was looking for: Four rows of letters on her upper back, also burned in black. She would have to seek out the toa of iron to tell her the meaning of those, as they were the only link to her past she had, and she needed any explanation for why this was done to her. She shuddered at the thought that she was a criminal and this was a punishment, banishing the thought.

[sunflower]

IC: Embok

The broken Toa of Plasma moved after Decaia, his legs seeming to carry him on their own accord as they glided through the air without purpose. His movements were not rigid, nor were they strong and noble. They weren't fluid and graceful, there was no calculated movement that betrayed an inner depth of thought. His movements were lacking, in everything. There was no strength, no coordination, no smoothness that had formerly occupied his limbs. It was gone, deserting him like the rest. Like his soul now devoid of hope, his body was now an empty husk. A shell of a once noble and respect man. Even the highest fell, eventually. It was inevitable. Like the suns rising, or the ebb and flow of the tides.

 

Now, Embok saw it quite clearly. It was inevitable that it happen. There was no stopping it. Oh yes, one could slow it progress, but there was no way to completely rid of it. No matter what, darkness would always win. The light was only temporary. They days always gave way to cold, unforgiving night. Even when seemingly defeated, it lurked near the edges of consciousness, never gone completely. And then, like an awaking soul, it once again spread throughout. Blanketing everything in its path, smothering the light that opposed it, surrounding hope in its velvety depths, mercilessly crushing all else under its unbearable weight. There was no way the villages could hope to win such a threat. In the end, they would all fall. One by one.

 

Hope was gone.

 

Embok's hope.

 

The village's hope.

 

The Matoran's hope.

 

As Embok glided -no other word could describe the empty movements- after the Ga-Toa, it seemed as if everything that he had held within himself was washing away under the strain. The pain was unbearable, the fear was unbearable, the betrayal was unbearable, the loss was unbearable, but Embok was forced to bear it. The pain shot through his shattered body, the fear made him want to curl up, the betrayal caused his rage to simmer, the loss sent tears down his Kanohi. But he could not rid himself of it. Not now, not ever.

 

The Toa of Plasma barely registered where he was moving, where the traitorous Arete was leading him. He saw nothing but monsters where he looked. Monsters filled with the hopes of many. The demons of civilization filled the shadows, clawing out to him, drawing him closer into their inescapable maws. Embok pulled himself through them, the bright golden star that once drove him now twisted and oily black. It now him pulled him closer, rather than pushing him forward. But the star hadn't been replaced, no, the outer shell had merely been removed, the illusion giving way to her true image. Her? No, no, no, NO.

 

Go away.

 

Stop.

 

Stop!

[Franco]

IC: The foliage and the maze of boughs alike both slowed Wrath's running in the deeper jungle. He was too big to move quickly at ground level. Thus, he took the first opportunity he had to jump into a tree. From bough to bough and limb to limb he lightly danced, flying in pursuit. He moved not on sight, but sound, vision inhibited if his hearing was not. He soon heard the rustling produced by greenery in motion come to a halt and responded accordingly. The berserker's movements became furtive and silenced, no longer rapid but cautious in exploration.

 

He listened carefully from his perch on a bough. Fixed sounded beneath him and to the left, alongside the rasp of a blade meeting bark. His fiery gaze shifted slightly in that direction alongside his body. There, nestled in the network of roots, sat the matoran with knife readied.

 

He has shown a will to fight. But it is too late to attempt combat.

 

Wrath leaped down. He twisted midair, spinning to land with arms outstretched and front facing the matoran. The nameless one couldn't back away, that path blocked by the tree; he couldn't move left or right for its roots so constrained him; and to move forwards would be to offer himself into his enemy's arms.

 

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

 

Ta charged into the nook as a moving wall. Arms forming a net about his side, he flung it, one striking for the villager's wrist to trap his knife arm and the other striving to encircle the smaller body in an iron grip.

Edited January 1, 2013 by Jerry Renault

[otter]

IC-Mila:

 

"Ah, Tohi, you're awake again!" Mila exclaimed happily, having just stepped into the room with a tray piled high with breakfast foods-eggs and bacon, pancakes, waffles, you name it. As to how he'd known to bring it just then, well...that didn't matter quite as much. He just had lucky timing.

 

"Good, now that you're awake, you can eat-need to keep up your strength, you know." He set the tray down on a small end table set beside the bed, before pulling out an iron sort of stand to line the plates of food all along.

 

"So. I trust you slept well?"

[Mr. Coffee]

IC: Tohi

 

The water toa shrieked in surprise at Mila's unannounced arrival, her focus breaking and the mirror splashing on the floor. "Sorry. And good morning." she said, though she blamed the toa of iron for that. She crouched and put her hand into the silver puddle, the liquid moving up her arm and sinking into her skin. In few seconds, the floor was dry. Sitting on the bed, she smiled on the toa of iron: "No, not well. At all. Nightmares." she shared, lowering her gaze to the floor. She picked up a piece of violet fruit from the plates Mila brought, biting into it without thinking. Her face turned into a grimace momentarily at the unexpected sourness of the bite, but in the end it tasted well, once she knew what to expect. "And about those... There's something burned to my back, isn't there? What is it, a mark of some sort?" she pried, wanting to follow with 'And do i wanna know?' For a while she thought her past may better be left forgotten. But if she doesn't confront it, her phantoms might never go away.

[otter]

IC-Mila:

 

"It was a message to anybody who found you," Mila said quietly, sitting next to Tohi. "Basically saying that you made somebody mad, and so they decided to scar you up, and kill your brothers...says your name was Akira." He shrugged, grabbing a biscuit from the tray and taking a bite.

 

"So. Nightmares. Those are never fun."

[Krayzikk]

IC: Liara

 

Groggily, the Le-Toa shuffled past the door to Tohi's room, just barely visible past Mila's body. Her feet barely left the floor, and her posture was reminiscent of a Tryna-zombie.

 

Shuffling into the kitchen, she pushed aside the pans left out by the guests and put a teapot over the fire to boil, before reaching up, and grabbing the canister of ground coffee beans out of the cupboard. Unlike Mila and Tohi, she had not slept that night. Or rather, had not slept for any substantial amount of time. The procedure to remove the gangrene from Tohi's scars had been time consuming, stretching far into the night and the wee hours of the morning. Once it had finally been finished, and the Ga-Toa transferred to the patient's room, Liara had returned to clean up. She had staggered the bed just as the sun was starting to come up, and awoke a few short hours later.

 

She needed coffee.

[Mr. Coffee]

IC: Tohi

 

"Brothers?" Tohi whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. It was like the nightmare was eternal. They killed her team, left her as a warning, and all because of what? Why did this happen? Those who tortured her made her suffer even beyond grave, providing no explanation for their actions, no closure for her. And that name... It didn't sound familiar at all to her. "You're right. Was. If i had to guess, she and her brothers must have caused quite some stir to deserve this fate." she whispered in a sad tone, "and now they're all dead. They even killed Akira in the end. All that's left of her is... Tohi." she said with disgust apparent in her voice. "Maybe... Maybe one day, I can be her again." she sighed.

 

Tohi pulled her mask off her face, turning it and looking at it. If she looked preserved as far as her body was concerned, the stress consistent with an overworked person with too much responsibility than they could handle was showing on her otherwise unmarked face. It didn't made her ugly, but she was visibly worn out, looking older than she should have. She made a mental note to rub the rust off of the mask the first thing when she gets out. "Who did this to us?" she asked absently, giving the thousand-bio-stare, as if addressing both her past and present self. Pushing the mask back, she finally noticed Mila sitting next to her. Another feeling crawled out of the depths of her soul, demanding attention.

 

"I need to ask you something." Tohi's eyes were shut, her voice a low whisper, as if she could hide from her shyness. "Back at the noodle stand," she begun, "When I was all sleepy, you didn't tell me to act like a Toa and get up. You didn't even helped me to my feet. You stepped over, and carried me. In your arms. Through your door." she continued, her voice becoming less steady, but she was relieved to get this question out, no matter the answer. "Then you were all flirty through the night. You seem to care. But then i think back to the noodle stand, and how causally you talked about a betrayal of the other Toa and the murder of your leader, like it was everyday's event." she kept on speaking, barely holding herself from stammering. "So tell me, toa of iron, was that just an attempt to steer my attention away from my condition you handled like a diplomat? Or is this - are WE - heading somewhere?" she finally asked, not able to bring herself to look the maroon and bronze Toa in the eyes, blushing behind her mask. Tohi didn't feel attracted to Mila. She felt downright drawn to him. It didn't matter to her that they just met. He seemed like he didn't give up hope for better days, even on an island this deep in shadows. He was ready to help and protect others at his own expense, a spirit she thought was kindred with her own. And even if he didn't feel the same way, she needed to know, for not having the answer would be another distraction she didn't need.

Edited January 1, 2013 by Nohiki

[otter]

IC-Mila:

 

Mila raised an eyebrow, slightly, thinking. Did he like her like that? He wasn't sure. He hadn't ever really had any reason to like somebody like that, and if he didn't at the moment, well, it was possible that he could. Slowly, he smiled, pulling Tohi into a hug. She certainly needed the hug, after all, and he could tell she likely needed the emotional intimacy to go with it.

 

"Ah...sure, I guess," he said quietly. "You might say that the last part is true, assuming that's alright with you."

[Mr. Coffee]

Edit

IC: Tohi

 

She allowed herself to be pulled in, putting her arms around Mila's shoulders, a genuine happy smile appearing on her face for the first time since she woke up at the beach. She kissed him on the cheek, savoring the moment. It might not work out between them, it might. She didn't know. But what is life without taking a chance once in a while? And at least, no one will take this morning away from her. "Yes, i thought it was." she whispered to his ear, but didn't really mind that.

 

She broke the embrace, hoping no one saw them. Matoran may be good people all around, but when it came to gossip, only one rule applied: What they didn't knew, they won't tell. "Sorry for jumping at you like that," she said, "but i couldn't help it." she went from desperately sad to in love in a nanosecond, but instead of causing more of an emotional turmoil, it left her calm and at peace. "Thank you. For everything." she said, taking his hand. "I... I'd like to thank you in actual words. I think i can manage at least that now." she smiled. One step at a time.

Edited January 1, 2013 by Nohiki

[otter]

IC-Mila:

 

"Oh, memories of the old language coming back to you?" Mila jokingly asked. "Sure, go ahead. I'll make sure to correct you if it's needed."

[Mr. Coffee]

IC: Tohi

 

Tohi coughed theatrically, humming a few times to set herself up and taking a breath. "Thank you, Toa Mila." she said, sounding like a broken record, knowing it very well. "I could really use guidance. It's not memories, it's more like trying to pronounce what i heard since coming here." she confessed, "What is the verdict? It will be easier to carry around a bunch of Raus for others to use, right?" Tohi joked while getting up, moving towards a window. Her steps still weren't too steady and she leaned on the edge for support, looking over at the sea. And a feeling long forgotten called. "Tell me, do you like swimming?" she turned her head around, wearing a nasty grin.

[otter]

IC-Mila:

 

"I get the odd feeling that swimming isn't the only thing you're planning," Mila said, his eyes narrowing as he looked over to Tohi. "Something about that smile."

[Great Being Velika]

IC: Nuurikan

 

Nuurikan decided to return to Ga-Koro. He figured "might as well take some more time to relax!"

[Mr. Coffee]

IC: Tohi

 

"Yes. I believe that if toa of stone and iron have one thing in common, it's this." she said and picked up one of the heavier items in the room, dropping it from the window. A sound of a splash could be heard as the item sunk into the depths, demonstrating what she thought. "Catch me if you dare!" she teased and followed the item, falling out of the opening with her arms stretched out sideways, piercing the water's surface gracefully.

 

For the first time she felt at home. The depths were calling out to her, luring her to discover their mysteries. She was glad her suit and mask didn't let any of the water through, preferring not to get salt poured into open wounds. She surfaced momentarily to catch a breath and then dove, retrieving the item she tossed out of the window recklessly. Then she headed away from the village at a rather impressive speed, popping in and out of the water like a dolphin as she did. Blue lights went up her arms as she absorbed the water around her, restoring her elemental power that have been depleted over the long time she lied still, more color returning to her skin, changing from dark blue into a slightly lighter navy color.

[EmperorWhenua]

Ic: Anthyn busily looked about at the crowd. All the other Daedra were accounted for, save one...

 

"I miss the jungle, I knew how things worked there," Savina said. "It was also a lot more peaceful. But here in this village...I don't know what to expect. I got chased out of here just for taking a couple fruit."

 

"Well, then, it's time you learn to live in this new world," Anthyn said, leaning a little to look into Savina's eyes. "I'm not from this world, either. You can adapt to it if I could. After all, we are very much alike." A cunning little smile peered from Anthyn's face with a knowing expression. "You will learn, little dove."

 

She stood back up and led Savina further into the village. She came upon Dico who seemed a little disappointed in a recent event, but she didn't ask about that. Instead, she asked, "Dico, have you seen Baruk at all since the kindly old man visited us?"

 

"Negative."

 

"Amusing..." she said and trailed off just as she walked away. The embodiment of Gluttony had been as mute as Baruk and as invisible as a snow hare in the Ko-Wahi wastes. Indeed, while the other Daedra were occupied with keeping the peace, negotiating with terrorists or "protecting" Turaga, Baruk was doing absolutely nothing. In fact, even the personal messages sent to him were left unread for weeks and there was no sign of improvement. And in the view of the Daedra, and Lust in particular, if one did not contribute, even a little, they were unfit for membership.

 

And if they were unfit to represent the bottom rungs of what a person could be they were only fit to die. "Come, Savina."

 

"Where are we going?"

 

"We're going to have an adventure."

Edited January 1, 2013 by Littlefinger

[otter]

IC-Mila:

 

"Right, well..." Mila watched closely as Tohi swam off, before frowning. Did she really think...? She must have. He shrugged, setting aside the scarf and cloak he had with him, before stepping out onto the beach. He watched as she swam farther out from him, and he smiled.

 

"One doesn't live in Ga-Koro," he called, forcing Tohi to stop and listen to him, "Without learning how to swim!" That said, he quickly ran, diving into the water, and looking as though he sunk like a stone.

 

Now, he was really just holding his breath, and sinking down to the sea floor, before proceeding to swim off in the direction of Tohi. A takea shark, thankfully docile, moved past him, and he nearly laughed at what it said. Waiting until he was sure that Tohi would be starting to worry, he popped back up, getting a lungful of air, and looking Tohi right in the eyes, with a grin. They were less than three feet apart, he'd covered so much distance.

 

"Having fun?"

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

Liara leaned against the window sill, watching her patient and her guest swim in the bay. Normally, she would have objected. What if Tohi tore her stitches? But, there was little to be done. Besides, the saltwater could be good for her. It would help keep the wounds clean.

 

As she sipped her coffee, her mind wandered back to the injuries the Toa had sustained. She'd been tortured, of that the Le-Toa had no doubt. No other occurrence left such marks. The verse burned into her back all but confirmed it, too. It was sickening, what beings would do to each other. What she herself had done to others in the past, and what she'd allowed to be done.

 

She sighed, and took another sip of her drink. "Nothing to be done about it now." She muttered quietly to herself.

[ARROW404]

IC: HaroNowhere to run or hide now. The Ga-Matoran felt a pang of fear, but also anger and frustration. He thought he was hidden! He was sure the cursed Toa wouldn't be able to see him, especially from above. Flight was no longer an option. So his instincts drove him to fight instead. Brandishing the knife, he leaped forward, desperately flailing it to hit anything it could. He closed his eyes, not wanting to grow squeamish in his last moments. As he flew forward, he bellowed what likely would be his last words, "MY NAME IS HARO!"

[Franco]

OOC: The way you described it didn't sound like his nesting place was totally concealed from above to me. But I suppose that may be just Haro overestimating his hiding abilities.

 

IC: Wrath's arms collided with the matoran's body and latched on. The knife hand was held at bay with one hand to the wrist, caught without having successfully cut. He grabbed Haro with his other arm and roughly slung him across his shoulder's in a fireman's carry. Regardless of how much the Ga-Matoran struggled, he held tight without fighting back or letting go. His grip was as inexpugnably definite as was the inevitability of his prey's imminent demise.

 

The berserker turned around. In his ears was yet the faintest far-off whooshing, coming back to where he now looked. He stayed perfectly still for a second. Then Wrath, slow and deliberate as the daily grind of seconds to minutes and minutes to hours, began to tread through the jungle.

[shadow pridak money gang]

"I like the Walrus best," said Alice: "because you see he felt a little sorry for the poor Oysters."

"He ate more than the Carpenter, though," said Tweedledee.

*****

IC: Dorian (Inn, Ga-Koro)

Boredom.

I had come down with sudden, paralyzing, makes-you-wish-for-straight-up-death boredom after Kynaera had gone off to be a "hero" and told me to rent out a room. I did so at the recently revamped Tidalpool Inn which, after a dreadful fire months back, been completely refurnished with new rooms, employees - after all, ask any employer and they'll tell you that burned out husks of the old doorman aren't quite as polite as the smiling new Toa of Plasma who's ready to take your coat 24/7 - and room service menus. So here I was, chilling out in one of the suites towards the very tippy top of the Tidalpool Inn, and all I could think about was throwing myself smack dab over the edge. How many couples would see me fall as they lounged around and watched the horizon? Would I traumatize some kids? What if the old folks home down the road was hosting a walk, trying to get the elderly out and about? Would I induce a couple heart attacks?

Possibilities, possibilities, decisions, decisions.

From my spot lying on the single, king size bed, head propped against an aesthetically pleasing iridescent purple wall, I could just turn my head and see Kynaera talking to some Toa of Air who looked noble and handsome and everything you'd expect from a man who climbed his way out of a storybook; even from here, though, I could see the corruption in his red eyes, the black aura that surrounded him and suffocated the decency around him and then had the gall to call itself a soul. And he was standing next to my Ky. Was she, too, a terrible person? Was guilt by association a thing? I suppose it is, seeing as in a matter of weeks, perhaps months, I might well be carted into prison for the rest of my life for a murder that I didn't even attempt to commit, as well as any number of crimes committed by Bad Company that I wasn't around for, but did that make me a terrible person?

Short answer: Yes. Long answer: No.

Kynaera was different, though: she was scarred, hurt, beat up emotionally and completely, totally lonely. I had left her alone for forty years to go off and do my own thing, live my hedonistic roller coaster life, get myself beat half to death and then pretty myself up all over again. She had done nothing but give and give for me, over and over again; Ky had never once abandoned me, and I knew she never would. She loved me; I loved her. And I'd betrayed her by leaving, when I would bet my life's fortune on the fact that she'd never leave me in turn. Even now, she had taken me into her heart yet again, a feeble wretch off the street who was just a burned out husk of the old Dor-man - teehee! - and she loved me. Through all of it, through everything I had done because of her, Kynaera still loved me.

Man, I needed a smoke.

For some reason, I had bought some rolling papers and enough for just a couple cigarettes in my pocket - God bless, Xa-Koro - and it was in one of these papers that I put together one of my favorite copper rolls. I drew a matchbook from the dresser by the bed and flicked one out, examining it for the briefest of moments before brushing it against my forearm and creating a small flame, just enough to light the tip of the cig. After crushing the match in between two fingers, I tossed it into the trash can - littering's bad, mmkai? - and leaned back, cig in my mouth, as I blinked a couple times to try and clear my vision, which had been fogged ever since I got out of Ta-Koro. One more blink. Vision's 20/20 again.

One more blink, longer this time. I was exhausted, and I didn't even feel like attempting to open my eyes, but at last, I did so, and when I did, I came the closest to screaming that I had in forty years, for crouched over me, like a feline, a sickened look of the utmost disappointment on his face, was a man in the throes of middle age; his otherwise handsome face was beginning to show signs of starting to sag, like an old fruit buried underneath new product at a market, and the beginnings of permanent indigo circles underneath his eyes were so visible that I could actually punch him directly in the face and you wouldn't even tell he had a black eye.

"Why am I not surprised at you, boy?" asked the man as he took me by the forehead and straightened up my posture in the same way that he had hundreds of times before in a previous life; my spine instinctively recognized the movement and fought against him, but his grip was strong, vice strong, stronger than I remember, and then I was helpless, copper roll hanging slightly out of my mouth and deep, flirty azure eyes wide with shock, fear, and a bit of some long buried emotion that even now threatened to well from my throat and drown both of our blackened souls.

"Dad?"

*****

"What do you mean by that?" said the Caterpillar sternly. "Explain yourself!"

"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir," said Alice. "Because I'm not myself, you see."

"I don't see," said the Caterpillar.

*****

"Are you enjoying Kynaera's company?" the apparition asked me, standing up and circling the bed to and fro. This is what David felt like as the lions circled him, in those brief moments between the time where he cried and screamed and pleaded with God to hear him and the time where the big man finally got bored of hearing him whine and sent down a healthy can of divine intervention for David to pop open. This is what you feel like in the brief seconds between the time where you can't hold your breath underwater after your boat capsizes and the time where the water starts to fill your lungs and gradually and gradually you get more and more screwed.

This is what it feels like, those brief, few seconds of a strange, unholy hybrid of fear, anxiousness, uncertainty and understanding, to know that somehow, somewhere along the road, you really and truly failed.

"Hm? I asked you a question, Dorian, look up at me and answer it like a man," my father - no, my perception of my father; this was not the man who gave birth to me, no, he was either dust or bone or some fragment of soul still ambling directionless through Ko-Wahi - continued as he stopped at the foot of my bed. Something, perhaps a small glint of approval, glowed in his eyes as I stood up and faced him: it was a type of look that I'd seen so few times I could probably count them on my real phalanges. "Are you enjoying Kynaera's company? She gonna make you a real boy again? Well, I'll be, Dorian, what's the matter? Didn't like the little chart that you drew up for your life anymore? Pretty boy painter doesn't exactly get turned on by the killer's lifestyle the way he used to? Well, color me surprised, kiddo. I always knew you didn't have the sack to really get your rocks off by causing pain, but I figured at least even you had some form of event horizon. You really are still an idealist after all this time- or you're just pathetic."

"A while ago I broke him in mind. I showed him that strength and power were not everything a warrior had to be. I taught him this by way of letting him win, but I arose again unharmed. Then I broke his body by showing him justice and equality, by severing his likeness of me and giving him a gift that would require his initiative after making him sacrifice his abilities. And now, in the presence of his friends and colleagues, I broke his spirit by showing how worthless he is after all his exploits. Absolutely worthless. Pathetic. Foolish."

"I am NOT WORTHLESS! IAMNOTPATHETIC! IAMNOTFOOLISH! YOU ARE!"

I had been worthless, for the longest time; I had contributed nothing of worth to Mata Nui, merely destroyed, burned, taken people, places, concepts that were truly beautiful and crushed them underfoot with a pretty smile and an apathetic shrug. Only when I, too, had been crushed by Brykon had I realized the way I was wasting my life and my potential: yes, my potential. I was a bastion of it, and the resume of my accomplishments in life only served to prove that. Brykon had helped me realize that, even while he crushed me and degraded me and left me to die underneath Xa-Koro. Dragging myself up from the muck and the methane with all those walking dead men who served Aurelia brainlessly...that was power. That wasn't pathetic; that was me, finally becoming a man. But that wasn't something I had been taught by the apparition before me, nor was it something I had the potential to learn myself. Brykon had done it for me, at a time when I needed it truly more than ever.

"I love her, old man," I said quietly, finally breaking my vow of silence; I felt my father's head snap like a bullwhip towards me, felt his eyes meet mine, and though I saw him stiffen up with rage and pure shock I knew there was confusion in there, too. "Yes, love. It was always a concept foreign to you, but to me, it means something. Family means something, something that obviously never really clicked with you otherwise things would have been inconceivably different. There is not a day that goes by that I don't regret what I did to our family, but don't you ever expect so much as a grain of remorse from me for killing you, because if I could, you hellish little cretin, I would do it again."

That was the last straw: instantly, whatever pride had been in his eyes disappeared, and suddenly he was the man who gave birth to me again, disgusting, abusive, in my face. He was on me in an instant, holding my cheekbones in his hands, eyes wild and feral like those of a rabid animal's. "Do it, then!" he cried out to the heavens. "End it! Huh? You think you'd really do it again, Dorian, you really think that you'd wash your hands with your own family's blood again? Try it, then! We both know you don't mean a word of it, a single threat, a single cutesy depressing little metaphor, a single word of your family schtick! Your brother's alive, after all. Malik? He ran off and joined a circus. Despite his many, many dishonorable qualities, at least your little brother knew where he belonged, but you...you belong nowhere."

Something cold and metallic was pressed into my hands: Naryth's - no, my - revolver, whole and cold and just as much an instrument of death as the day when I had first picked it up from beside the Vortixx's body in the alleyway near the casino at Xa-Koro. That was a different me, a Dorian that should have never existed - may have never existed at all, really, had it not been for this disgusting sack of meat that passed himself off as sentient. My old man must have sensed the revulsion rolling off me as I held the weapon, because his smirk became vindictive then and he took both my hands and pressed them against the gun before pulling it to my forehead.

"That's riiight," he sighed. "You never really killed anyone with this thing. Well, Dor, it's simple, you just take it like so, place it against my forehead like so, and then SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD. DO IT. END THE MISERY AND THE DISGUST AND THE DISAPPOINTMENT THAT I WAS FORCED TO CHOKE DOWN EVERY TIME I HAD TO ADMIT THAT YOU ARE MY SON--"

The gun cocked, ending his ramblings where they lay in the air between us. When his eyes met mine, there was no pride, no hatred, no nothing. Just empty mirrors into an empty soul.

"You choked for nothing, old man," I whispered, holding back tears. "Because I'm not."

I pulled the trigger, and suddenly my dad's heartlight, his eyes, the room around me, everything went white and I knew no more.

*****

"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.

"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."

*****

Xa-Koro didn't look at all like I remembered it.

If you were visiting the place for the first time, you would be well within your rights to call the place a shanty town, a monument built not of marble and rock, but of wood and muck and ; the people were not demons, not yet, but nor could they really be called a true people. They were halflings, floating endlessly through a life that they both merited and did not merit. This, however, was not the Xa-Koro I knew, for at least the Xa-Koro I knew was intact: this place hit you all at once with the smell of charred flesh and a bitter, false dream, Aurelia's dream. She had been the Queen of Xa-Koro, and her will be done across the Kumu Islets: just as this place had started to become something, had been worthy of notice of the mainland, it had been snuffed out, as though it were a scratched diamond on one of her gaudy rings.

Here, in this Xa-Koro - my Xa-Koro - burnt corpses lined the streets like doormen at Ga-Koro hotels. The buildings were like trophies you give to the last place finisher at a swim meet, for on first glance they looked respectable, but then you stared at them for more than a second and you could see the falsity to them, watch them fall apart like a baby bird's skeleton falls to dust in all but the lightest grips. Not even the streets were truly streets: as I looked down Xa-Koro's main road, on my way to the docks, I could see that they were full of scribbles and drawings that I recognized after a second to be mine. They were the pages to my journal.

This was my mind, in all its raw beauty and its disturbing brittleness. We're selling postcards at the gift shop, if you want to bring your friends sometime.

A war cry, fierce and long and full of pain, and instantly there was a butterfly knife in my hand, though I couldn't remember conjuring it, and the last thing I remembered was me holding the gun to Papa Shaddix's head. Now wasn't the time to worry about the knife, though: I looked up and saw Tank charging at me, black Mark of Pain glowing and whipping up a frenzy. His eyes led to nothing, could be construed as tunnels at first glance, and truly, for a second, I knew fear, and I knew how Utu had survived so long, become so powerful and in tune with his Mark. It was a feeling that I had truly never felt before, and it was something that I never wanted to feel again for as long as I lived, whether it be a few months or an eternity.

Then instinct took hold, and the knife lifted up almost by itself, cutting right into Tank's diaphragm and stopping his little Pickett's Charge all at once. Grab him by the neck. Stabbity stabbity stab stab. Down went Tank in a little heap, the glow of his Mark fading away, followed by the Mark itself, as all his blood spilled out onto the pages of my journal in minutes: a little portrait of Nikarra, playing guitar peacefully as the sun shone over her head and her name shone over the sun, was obscured completely by the life-giving deep red liquid of the Toa of Sand.

No. Please. No more blood. Not on my hands.

Utu next. Him, I could hear coming from a mile away, because Utu was massive and his broadsword cut like a windmill through the air as he came at me from behind: spin around quick, knife upwards into the jugular. He never had a chance to fight back, and suddenly his blood was spilling down my sword arm, too, and wherever his blood touched my skin it left an odd, tribal looking tattoo that I could probably interpret if I wasn't so busy fighting for my life. Other Mark Bearers next: Yuru. Jikal. Iris, in Tuara's body. Poor Tuara has just enough time to look at me in the eye and smile, thanking me for freeing her. She knew what it was like to be me, be a prisoner in this kind of place, more than anyone else on this island, and I had to smile back because I knew she was in a better place.

Then the people start getting more personal, because we're bonded by more than just being experiments of a mad Makuta-affiliated scientist with a grating voice and a bad taste in fashion. Jin leaped down from the rooftops - oh, Jin, always on the rooftops, always on top of things - and I had no choice but to snap her neck through teary eyes as she tries to electrocute me with those hand buzzers of hers, those buzzers that I thought were so cute when she had first electrocuted Grokk with them. Please forgive me, Jin. I know I don't deserve your pardon, but I need it.

Then there was Aurelia, and Jin was still in my hands so I lifted her hand buzzers and then threw the Vortixx's corpse at her to distract her. Since Aurelia was small, she managed to duck under it, but then I grabbed her by the neck and squeezed hard. Her eyes rolled backwards and began to twitch inside their sockets, shaking around like gumballs in a machine. Crackling sounds, a gross smell like someone's got chicken on the rotisserie, and still Aurelia's eyes rolled back until finally they stopped seizing around and there was a weird, muffled popping sound that might have been the voltage overloading her heart and squashing it like a tomato in a food fight. Aurelia was released, and dropped to the ground of her kingdom: black char marks were visible where I'd held her pretty little electress neck and squeezed with the buzzers.

I saw Grokk next, then, saw him dive out from a side alley, Zamor launcher raised, Containment Sphere primed, and spun around him so that I could see his back and I could watch as I drove my butterfly knife right in between his spinal column, like sliding a piece of bacon back into a cheeseburger after it falls out onto your plate. Deep red blood bubbled up and ran over my hand: for a second, I was surprised he wasn't spilling bad puns out of the vicious hole in his back.

Yank the knife out, spin around: a long surgical draw along the abdomen, deep, probably nicking a vital organ or two, followed by an unceremonious cut to the throat, and down Grokk went, blood spilling out of three jagged slices in his body. That last Mad Hatter grin was still on his face, and if I'd given him another five seconds, he probably would have gotten out a last scarf joke. The light left his eyes as suddenly as his blood, and a cold feeling doused my gut.

And now I had no friends.

These were the people that had made me what I am: the old man had been the levee that started it all, with his distaste for Kynaera, and when things had gone haywire with her and the old man had abandoned me to die, he'd opened himself - and the island - up to a whole new world of hurt. He had been right, in a way: even as I longed for change, for redemption, still I crushed these people underfoot as I finally stepped foot on the docks, my ultimate destination. A lone man was standing, back to me, on the tip of the dock, where a boat would usually be moored: before he even turned around, I knew who he would be, and before my eyes he blinked out of existence and then showed up in front of me again.

His face was beautiful to even behold, a masterpiece I couldn't have conceptualized and laid down on canvas if you gave me a hundred years and a million widgets. His very body was exquisite, perfectly and distinctively muscled, and everything about him save his eyes was a deep matte black save his eyes, deep yellow pools which drew in all light around him and then shot it out like fireworks. It was a man who literally could have been borne of the devil himself, so rich was his charm, his very manner of existence, and still in my heart of hearts I couldn't help but obsess over him.

Heuani smirked, as if he were nothing but aware of this, and took my sword hand: the blood had all dried up and turned into tattoo ink, so he took the time to examine the markings, smile up at me occasionally, and then nod to himself, as if he weren't surprised in the least. Then, when he was done, he slowly and casually took my Protosteel phalange and ripped it away. Instantly, an old wound was opened up, and the blood began to pour anew from the other half of my finger, except this time it didn't turn into ink, it just stayed blood, and it dripped across the docks as above us the sky turned a deep, deep crimson to mirror the carnage that lay in my wake.

"What a shame," Heuani sighed in disappointment, clucking his tongue. "Now we can never be married, Dorian."

I could still wield a knife, though; even as Heuani drew his flamberge suddenly out of seemingly thin air, waved the dark, beautiful sword around, I prowled the docks around him like a cat. A deep glimmer of pride in his eyes, discordant with the vicious nature of the fight, shone out of the deep golden lighthouse beacons that were the Toa of Shadow's eyes; for a second, I was reminded of the old man, and suddenly a prickle of anger blossomed into full on rage as I leaped from behind. All the incubus had to do was snap his fingers: instantly, I was on the ground, pinned by my own shadow, and the scar on my abdomen shaped like the path of a droplet of condensation opened up again, expanded, spilled my blood out of my perfect abdomen and out onto the docks. The force of my fall sent the knife falling right by my foot, out of reach thanks to the shadows. I was pinned, and Heuani, ever the predator, knew it; as he leaned down, brushed the holster where once I had kept my revolver, ran his hands along the path of my reopened wound, my rage began to sedate itself, I calmed down, and...

No. I have NOT come THIS far to die NOW.

My legs still had some form of motion to them; I flicked my right foot upwards, sending the knife into the air: quickly, reaching out with my mind, I sent the weapon zooming right at me and watched with a gleam in my eye as it cut right through Heuani's shadows and left a small cut on the back of his hand. Weapon firmly in place, I managed to dig the knife into the tabula rasa underneath his armpit for all of about two seconds before the Toa of Shadow yelled out in pain and kicked me away, towards the edge of the dock, and tossed my knife with expert aim through my left hand. My cry of pain mimicked his, and us two masters of seduction stood as one and faced each other.

His face was impassive, a little on the vindictive side but mostly emotionless; nevertheless, I had spent too long as the Mark Bearer of Rage to not tell when a homeboy was giving off some serious angry pheromones, and Heuani was practically bathing in his fury by now. Stop; don't think about Heuani bathing. The Toa seemed to take advantage of the moment, weaved forward expertly with his flamberge and kicked me to the ground again as I ducked out of the way. The knife landed right beside my hand this time as he bent down to decapitate me, as he'd had me do to Echelon so long ago. Then I struck, with all the grace and speed afforded to me by the Calix plus my own top-notch instinct and reflex afforded to me by years of physical conditioning and assassin work.

I stabbed through Heuani's right elbow, first, coming up behind him and putting him in an arm bar. My weapon slipped out of the top of his arm as I moved the bone, trying to break it, and slid waiting into my right hand. Push the hilt forward with right hand: the butterfly knife flew like a North Korean rocket, shaky, probably not very good for anything longer than ten seconds, but still long and straight and true enough that it stuck itself through Heuani's neck. My adversary froze up, straightened his posture in shock; I took advantage of his moment of weakness to dig the knife further through until the point of the weapon could be seen sticking out of the other side of his neck.

By this time, the blood was really spilling, and I could feel the tight grip of his oh-so-soft hands - I wonder if he moisturizes or if that's just natural - slacken on his flamberge, allowing me to kick the weapon out of his hands and giving us both ample time to watch it slice through the night sky, leaving a long, smooth rent in the air behind it. In a brief second, words from another lifetime, spoken silkily, seductively, aiming to please, came back to me.

"The way you swing swords, you shouldn't be wasting your time on these. It's a far less effective - and attractive - weapon. It's an ugly machine."

A laugh. God, that laugh.

"But, then again, I may have a bias towards firearms..."

As I had the last time Heuani had offered the weapon to me, I plucked it out of midair fluidly, flicked it once in a pinwheel, and then brought it down while it was highest in the air, stabbing it through the top of the Toa's head and pushing down until I could see the tip. Instantly, I could tell he was gone to whatever fate awaited him: his eyes rolled slightly, closed up halfway, and then he dropped the instant I pulled the flamberge out. No blood spilled from the beautiful corpse; there was no telltale sign of a dying heartbeat, and in that instant, I knew I had won not only over Heuani, or those who I had blamed for turning me into me, but I had won over the one creature that actually had turned me into me:

Myself.

And the world, so crimson, so bloody moments before, suddenly turned a purest snow white and faded again before my very eyes; so intense was the heavenly shine that I was forced to shield my face in order to prevent it from being burned away. When my eyes next opened, I was on my knees on the bed, a Protosteel flamberge otherwise identical to Heuani's stabbed through the top of a pillow, a butterfly knife stabbed through the side in a vicious crucifix.

Uh...I'll tell Room Service to put that one on my tab.

-Tyler

Edited January 2, 2013 by Tyler Durden

[Parugi]

IC - Decaia - Ga-Suva: Though he had participated in it, it had not occurred to Decaia just how much the Daedra's infiltration had transformed Ga-Koro. Perhaps it was because he was always so preoccupied with his own little projects. Perhaps it was because he was always so entangled in his own thoughts. Or perhaps it was because he had been out of the picture for so long following the battle with the pirates.

 

Whatever the reason, only now was Decaia seeing the changes that had taken place--the monuments in the center of numerous lily pads or standing out from the surrounding sea, statues of singular Toa or the group as a whole, that honored the Arete for their contributions to the village. The Toa of Water passed by shrines honoring Ketan's kindness, or the just and stoic Ta, even some dedicated to 'Caidae's' own courage--or whatever it was they saw in him; Decaia didn't care to know.

 

It was an odd thing to observe, these... honors. Were they proof of the naivety of the Matoran, the ease with which they were fooled--symbols of how they had been so thoroughly manipulated by the Toa Daedra, the very group that had allowed the death of their dear leader, Turaga Nokama? Decaia knew that the vast majority of the other Daedra saw the Matorans' tributes as such, as proof of their success--and, indeed, this was true; for the moment sinners, embodiments of the seven greatest human atrocities, are honored as heroes, evil has won.

 

Even so, Decaia did not feel that these statues, these gifts to the Arete, were simply tributes from the deceived. They were evidence of the Matorans' desperate nature, their waning hopes, their wishes for a brighter future...

 

All of this had, of course, been realized by others at different points in time. The Toa of Sloth, though, had never had much of a reason to reflect on these facts. What truly emphasized his thoughts on the Matoran, however, was the shrine before him.

 

As he arrived, Decaia had to stop for a moment, just a step off from the lily pad housing his destination, in order to catch his breath from the drastic shift in decoration here. The other statues had been of a very modern look, easily recognizable as their subjects and yet glorifying their unique traits.

 

Not this one--the one place that had avoided the dark influence of the Daedra.

 

Toa Gali stood at the back of the circular platform, overlooking the old, decrepit Ga-Suva. It was a simple thing, carved from old stone, with golden gems placed in the eye sockets of the Toa of Water's face, blending in and yet standing out from the rest of the structure. Her face was, for the most part, impassive, and yet kind at the same time, the statue easily reflecting the unmatched wisdom and fairness that Gali was known for. There was no dramatization here--only that which had been observed at its time of creation.

 

Her pose was simple, unlike those of the Arete, and yet Decaia could not help but feel that it was more authentic, far more powerful, far more beautiful than anything that could ever be made in the image of the Arete. Then again, the 'Arete' were not authentic at all to begin with...

 

Despite the fact that the Daedra had worked so hard to usurp the Toa Mata's legacy, Decaia felt obligated to bow his head in respect as he stepped forward, turning as Embok approached like a lost dog. The Toa of Water watched him for a moment, moving to the edge of the platform as Embok stood before the Suva. Summoning his control over water, Decaia created a large sphere of the substance before him, willing it to wash over the Toa of Plasma's armor. The chill liquid swirled where it came into contact with the metal, washing away the blood that had stained it.

 

"Open your mouth," the Toa of Water said. He created another, smaller sphere of liquid in his palm, infusing some of his Toa Power within in--only enough to heal, or at least soothe, the wound, applying this to the bleeding gap where Embok's tongue had once been.

 

He adjusted his cloak as soon as this was done, walking past Embok and away from the Suva. Pausing at the walkway, he turned his head slightly. "I'm not sorry for our deception, nor for her death..." he said quietly. "But I know the pain of losing someone dear to you, and physical torture designed purely to add to that is simply... unwarranted. And for that... I am sorry."

 

The Toa of Water walked on, disappearing back into the village...

[Snelly]

IC: Savina - Ga-koro -

 

"Where are we going?" Savina asked curiously.

"We're going to have an adventure.", was the reply.

An adventure, sounded interesting, though what kind of adventure? Who could say really? Savina could venture a few guesses in her head, but really it was easier to just wait and see.

"Does this adventure have something to do with this Baruk person?" Savina asked, incidentally proving that she'd been paying attention. Savina guessed that they needed to visit this Baruk, whoever he was. For what she had no idea, she wondered if this would be a friendly visit...or something rather violent like what she had seen done to Embok.

Edited January 2, 2013 by Snelly

[Mr. Coffee]

IC: Tohi

 

The water toa smiled and nodded, pouncing on the toa of iron and hugging him, as she repelled the water around them. The two Toa sunk to the depths, a dome of air around them that had enough air left in it for them to breath for about a minute. The duo reached the sea floor, able to observe the sea life outside of the air bubble. It was wonderful. This island appeared to have great variety of species, ranging from corals to rahi big enough to give the toa trouble had they paid any attention to them.

 

Tohi'S face suddenly saddened: "Was she a good leader?" she asked, talking about the dead turaga. "There's probably going to be a ceremony for her, right? And those traitors will undoubtedly be there, delivering final insult to her memory." she went on, anger growing within her. "And I can't even go there looking like this, let alone give them what they deserve." she growled, finding refuge in looking at the fishes lazily circling their air bubble. Such lucky creatures. Their lives were so easy.

[ARROW404]

OOC: When I said it was concealed, I meant it. No worries, though, I'll just roll with it. IC: HaroNow he was really confused. He was being spared again. After being threatened with death again. Why? This Toa was full of mysteries. Was it because he had stood up and tried to fight back? Had shouting his name had some effect?He didn't struggle as he was hoisted onto Ta's shoulder. He simply hung there, trying to make sense of his captor. Running was resignation, right? Fighting was resistance, right? So which had he done, in the Toa's eyes? And which did the Toa truly value?At length, he spoke again. "Taking me to the slaughtering block?" His voice carried more confidence than he felt. He was a deer in the headlights, a Mahi being taken to the slaughter. He remembered his carving knife, dropped and left behind. He'd never find it again.

[otter]

IC-Mila:

 

"Aye, we'll have a service for her," Mila said, watching the fish with interest. "And it'll likely be a good thing that they're there. Now, give me a moment to explain," he said, holding his hands up in supplication, seeing the look on Tohi's face. "They've been a good symbol of hope and unity for the village, and even now, it is but a few who have seen their true colours. No, it is better that, at the moment, we let them get away with it." He turned, again, to watch the fish.

 

"And yes, she was a good leader. She was wise, and kind...she and Whenua made the balance between the Turaga. Vakama was wise, and attempted to be a father figure, though he could at times be aloof, similar to Nuju, though Vakama still had a bit of temper to him as well. And then Matau focused quite a bit on his kind, energetic aspect-we were never really certain if he was a Turaga or a Le-Matoran in disguise," he added with a bit of a chuckle.

 

"Onewa was always a bit gruff, rather brusque, though he was well-liked all the same. And then Nokama and Whenua held all their aspects, and they were the ones who likely did the best at holding the unity of the Turaga, and therefore the villages, intact." He shrugged. "So yes, she was a good leader. Wise, caring, though she would never beat around the bush-she'd tell you the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I must say I'll miss her," he added simply.

[Mr. Coffee]

IC: Tohi

 

The water toa put her hand on the iron toa's shoulder compassionately. The air in the bubble was getting thin, so Tohi raised them back to the surface, thinking about what Mila said. Grimacing, she complained: "I don't understand this place." Why would a toa even do something like that? "Can power really corrupt everyone?" she asked rhetorically, knowing the answer well. She is going to have to do a lot of studying before she even sets foot outside of this village. The world there might devour her otherwise, and Tohi wasn't interested in lying buried for another thousand of years, if she was so lucky. The water toa was floating on her back, her head full of questions, with one more popping up every moment. "Who caused this? Who's darkness is large enough to corrupt matoran and toa alike?" she said, going for the source. That was the foundation on which this mess was built.

Edited January 2, 2013 by Nohiki

[otter]

IC-Mila:

 

"The Makuta," Mila said, raising an eyebrow. Just woken up from surgery, and already wanting to know everything bad about the island. "Master of Shadows. Pretty much the only true power over the island, though Mata-Nui is the real Great Spirit. I mean, it's in the name."

[Mr. Coffee]

IC: Tohi

 

The sound of the name sent shivers down her spine. She didn't know this Makuta, but even it's name sounded full of darkness. She turned around, looking at Mila with smile on her face: "I am glad there is at least one Toa who did not succumb to his foul will." And fortunately, it was him who found her, and not one of the Arete. She wondered if she could be fooled so easily as well. "I shouldn't be slacking in the water. I need to take care of so many things I don't know where to begin. Learning to speak, looking for a job - not that i don't like your attention," she flashed Mila a grin, "But this stupid thing won't let me live off your charity. Pride they call it." Tohi said and slowly started moving towards the beach. A certain part of it drawn her attention and she altered her course, leaving the water on the spot where they found her. The tide has almost filled the hole she left with sand, but something glittered in it. She reached down, picking up the object. It was a small ring that fit on her ring finger perfectly. The small ring had various symbols carved into it. She knelt, clenching her fist and raising her index and middle fingers, putting them on her forehead. "Great spirit, have mercy on her wicked soul." she said quietly, the words of the short prayer coming to her from out of nowhere.

Edited January 2, 2013 by Nohiki

[EmperorWhenua]

Ic:

"Does this adventure have something to do with this Baruk person?" Savina asked, incidentally proving that she'd been paying attention.

"Yes," Anthyn replied, somewhat surprised that Savina had a brain to think about what she observed. "Baruk has deserted us, probably to do his own thing, and he has to be punished for it. Lesson one: In this world, justice is swift. If someone crosses us they have to pay for it, and soon." Savina's apparent intelligence proved to Anthyn that she could be useful, too, and so she would exploit that capability in Savina.

 

"We'll go find Baruk. Chances are he's still in his personal hut. And then we're going to show him what he gets for being useless. And you, little dove... are going to help me do it."

[Snelly]

IC: Savina - Ga-koro -

 

"Yes," Anthyn replied, somewhat surprised that Savina had a brain to think about what she observed. "Baruk has deserted us, probably to do his own thing, and he has to be punished for it. Lesson one: In this world, justice is swift. If someone crosses us they have to pay for it, and soon."

 

Savina's eyes widen ever so slightly, apparently this Baruk had betrayed Anthyn's little group, or at least had abandoned them. Savina thought that was a horrible thing to do to someone, how could he just abandon his supposed friends like that. Justice apparently called for immediate punishment. It was a slightly foreign concept for her but she understood.

 

Savina stopped on that thought, thinking of Grecko...every since she had decided to go with Anthyn after her soul had been taken...she'd lost track of the poor Ash Bear. What if he felt like she had deserted him?

 

We'll go find Baruk. Chances are he's still in his personal hut. And then we're going to show him what he gets for being useless. And you, little dove... are going to help me do it."

 

She quickly shook any thoughts of her Ash Bear out of her head, no time for that now, maybe she could try to find Grecko after she helped Anthyn.

 

"Alright." She said in agreement, not really sure what she was getting into. "I'll do whatever you need me to."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC: Dorian (Restaurant, Ga-Koro)

 

I know this sounds a little weird, but I really, really love the smell of basil.

 

The first time I ever had basil, it was on a pizza, and I was freaked out: what was this green stuff on top of the cheese? Was the dairy expired, perhaps? Was it tree pizza? If I ate it, what would happen to me? Then I watched the girl I was with take a slice and take a huge bite, then another; as she did so, smiling up at me in between bites of the pizza. It was still greasy, and gooey, and hard to really hold in your hand, y'know, the way pizza gets when it first comes out of a brick oven, and here's this gross stuff that looks like the Jolly Green Giant blew chunks all over my food that I just spent 12 widgets on, and she's eating it.

 

When the girl I was with didn't instantly start growing bark on her arms, I took a bite, and I fell in love.

 

It was moments like that, those moments of subtle realization, that I sat and thought about as I sat perched at the table of the bayside restaurant where I was meeting Ky for dinner. It'd been four months - or, in Dorian Standard Time, eons - since I'd been on a date, and after I'd gotten bored of waiting around and stabbing pillows at the hotel, I walked out to this place, this cutesy little restaurant where the sensual whiffs of different spices and entrees and basil all combined and blew out towards the sea, combining with the sea air and creating a relaxing little ambiance.

 

About this time last year, I learned that the word vase is actually pronounced vahz, and that blew my mind.

 

I once read in a book that if you blended orange juice from concentrate and oil up together in equal parts until it was smooth like chocolate pudding, and then lit it, you could make napalm. It turns out you can't, but the guy who helped me get the oil ended up dying because it turns out being around OJ and oil mixed together is like tearing into a cyanide salad with a healthy shot of bleach and ammonia to quench the bubbly feeling in your throat. I didn't even bother to bury him; I just kinda poured the mixture all over his body and tried to light it. Turns out, it just kinda burned up the soft, fleshy part on the bottom of his arm and I had to toss him into the Bay.

 

So much for poetics.

 

The waitress, a cute, timid young Toa of Lightning came up and asked me meekly - please, it's okay, you can make eye contact, just try not to lose yourself in how the deep blue shade of my eyes matches the ocean water behind me almost perfectly and we'll be aces - what I'd like to drink. Hmm. I hadn't thought about that one: in another mini moment of realization, I remembered that I really, really liked coffee, so I ordered some coffee with caramel flavoring and a shot of espresso with some ice water, slice of lemon on the side, please: take your time with it, I'm waiting on someone. The waitress nodded and went to give the order to the chef, casting looks over her shoulder at me while I pretended not to be trailing her with my eyes. Every three seconds, she'd shoot a glance at my cheekbones.

 

Most of the books I own suck, because when I come across a really, really good book - occasionally even a literary masterpiece - I have to show someone, give it to them, let them appreciate it on their own. Thing is, most of the books don't come back, because no one in their right mind gives back a literary masterpiece, so everywhere I look, everywhere I look, all my bookshelves anywhere I stay everywhere I look, they're all filled with anatomy textbooks and encyclopedias and a bunch of subpar novels and novellas that I hate, and I'm always seeking out a new masterpiece.

 

There's a symmetry in that, I guess, between my reading habits and my life in general.

 

Two. Three.

 

Waitress turns around and shoots a glance at me again before disappearing into the kitchen.

 

What did I tell you? It was like a system at this point, and I was truly a pioneer; maybe I would have it submitted into an encyclopedia someday so I wouldn't be so bored whenever I was forced to crack one open because all my good books are gone. A slight breeze snapped me out of those thoughts, pushing the smell of basil back into my nostrils and allowing it to linger there for all of about three seconds before the breeze did a loop-de-loop and carried on its path. I considered opening up the menu for a second. Maybe I would like the books I own more if they didn't lie to me when I just try and find out how to make a little napalm.

 

The coffee came then, even though I told her it was okay to hold off, so I took the lemon on the side of the ice water and idly squeezed it so that the juicy citrus was dried of all juice in a second. On the saucer beside the coffee cup, a drained, yellow little slab of ex-fruit dropped down and plopped there with a thud sound, and I took the straw from the ice water and idly flicked it around, mixing the lemon juice with the water and taking a sip.

 

I still remember the first time I looked at my clock and realized I was actually telling time, and that was a beautiful feeling.

 

The lemon-water was good stuff. I reached across the table and took the new shades I'd picked up with the white frame and the tinted black lenses, rolling them around my finger in boredom.

 

The girl who was with me when I first ate basil, it turned out she was rather sickly allergic to one of the cheeses they used on a five cheese pizza - I guess not everyone can be as cultured as me and just read a menu - and spent the night puking her guts out in the toilet. She'd never known she could have an allergic reaction that bad, so I guess we were kind of in the same boat because I never knew a girl her size could eat seven slices of pizza out of sixteen, but I guess we all don't really know what to expect out of each other on this podunk little island until it's too late, right? Anyway, she was actually vomiting out what could have been minor organs ("No, sweetie, it's okay, you have a ridiculously cute spleen...") when she turned and asked me in a choked, teary whimper whether she was gonna be okay.

 

You'll be fine, I'd said, but that top is ruined. Shame.

 

I guess there's a symmetry in that. Another little moment of realization on my part.

 

God, I loved those.

 

-Tyler

Edited January 2, 2013 by Tyler Durden

[Great Being Velika]

IC: Nuurikan

 

Nuurikan decided to take a break from his journey and go swimming in Ga-Wahi. He jumped right in to the blue, blue water.

[Eyru]

IC: Virin

 

"Your words... they ring truth, Akrainid. I still wish to have words with Toa Ketan, though. I will lay down all weapons and intent to harm if you allow me to do this."

---

 

IC (Ketan)

 

"Then speak now, and be quick about it," Ketan said sharply, which was uncharacteristic for the Toa of Air, but one could forgive him, seeing the events that had just transpired. There was little time for idle talk.

 

He turned for a moment as Kyanera tapped him on the shoulder, inquiring into the situation.

 

"The Turaga has been assassinated," he replied. "We need to establish order."

 

The village, even without orders or leadership, was beginning to understand the calamity that had befallen, and was beginning to take action. A stampede of concerned and crying villagers made their way to Nokama's hut, where they were being held at bay by Kynaera, who had obeyed Ketan and now shouted over their weeping and asked them to remain calm, swearing by the Great Spirit that they would find the killer and punish him.

 

Some Matoran fainted and fell to the ground, the news of their Turaga's death simply too much to handle. Others attempted to get past Kynaera to see their dead leader; Dico and several Marines joined her to form a wall before the entrance to the hut. No one was allowed in, except for a Marine doctor who emerged after only a few minutes, her mask stricken and tear-stained, to declare the Turaga dead being recovery. This initiated a new wave of wails and tears.

 

Some were already taking matters into their own hands. A crowd of armed beings began to spill out of Ga-Koro's front gate, bristling with swords and spears and crying vengeance on the Skakdi who had narrowly escaped their wrath. They spread out, searching the jungle and the beach and combing every inch of ground, looking for the murderer.

Edited January 2, 2013 by Eyru Bieber

[Voutok S'Tythe (Ray)]

Lenat- Ga-koroIC: "We should certainly be careful about it but as long as we stay away from it we should be fine. See, the Marines are already on it." Lenat replied as several of the village's guardians moved to deal with the problem.He looked around for a moment, before saying, "Why don't we enjoy this party for now? It provides a free meal at least and I'm getting hungry."

----------------------------------[OOC: I'm going to be upset if this is an "outdated" response and I'm too late to do this XD Flashback time, I guess? Sorry I'm late I had to leave for a last-minute trip that ended up having no wi-fi. Stupid lying motel websites XD]IC: Voutok; Ga-Koro Square (Shortly After Nokama's Assassination)"I wouldn't get too comfortable...I really don't like the looks of this. Marines or not this is just too familiar for me to be comfortable-"Suddenly, even with the new headphones on a horrified voice rang into Voutok's ear: to his surprise, the scream came not from a matoran, but a Toa. "Murderer!" he shouted. "Ga-Koro, to me! To me! The Skakdi has murdered our Turaga!""Right on cue..." Voutok thought to himself. "But...how? I mean, that's almost to the dot, just swap the word 'Skakdi' with...karz, what is so familiar about this?!"His question was answered by his vision suddenly distorting, turning the now-panicked Ga-Koro Square into a bustling network of structures that towered several yards above him. The structures were all like giant glass pillars decorated with metal. The black stone roads that ran around these glass pillar-shaped structures were flooded with panicked matoran whose armor color seemed to shift every second. His vision then began to flicker between this strange new image and the Ga-Koro square, the screams from both pictures melting together into incoherent, multi-voiced rambling. The Toa in Ga-Koro's voice echoed constantly, but eventually his voice shifted and the very words altered slightly."Murderer! DaXIa! dAxiA! Someone get "omen"! The Ma-kuterxhjbra-jeufge-hfsdr-..." The rest was as incoherent as the confusingly-mixed screams of panic. Voutok was lost in a trance for a moment. He took a few steps forward, both in reality and in the strange distortion in his mind. Beyond the crowd of the distortion, laying upon the black stone, surrounded by the screams...Voutok saw himself--years younger, but still barely recognizable--lying dead in a pool of blood with a knife in his neck.Voutok was sent back to reality when he heard a loud crack. His vision clear now, he looked down at what he stepped in: his old headset, now crushed and broken. He shook himself into focus then turned back to Lenat, who he could have sworn was probably looking at him like he had grown a second head."Er...Oh well, I didn't need them anymore anyway, right?" he said, tapping his headset Lenat had given him shortly before. He then felt himself getting shoved out of the way by a group of the crowd of panic scrambling for shelter or an exit, and he then began to share in their distress. "I don't know about you but if this doesn't call for concern then I don't know what will!" Edited January 2, 2013 by Voutok S'Tythe (Ray)