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Bzprpg - Po-Wahi


Friar Tuck

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IC: Puroruk [Po-Koro]

 

The burly carver stood within the courtyard of his house, the harsh light from the twin desert suns beating down on his back, the bronze trim of his armor gleaming in their merciless light. There wasn't a cloud to be seen within the sky, no relief proved from the dry heat. Before the man was one of the finest collections of three dimensional art on the island. Wood from the jungles of Le-Wahi molded seamlessly with the red stone collected from the quarries from Po-Wahi, while both dull and shining metals mined from the great catacombs of Onu-Wahi held together and supported the sculptures. Metal transferred to wood and wood to stone without interruption of the piece, the different materials both adding to the work as a whole and complimenting the rest. It was, as Puroruk thought with a look of mild interest, quite elegant in its execution. Of course, each of these intricate sculptures had been crafted with his own deft hands.

 

As one looked closer, the sheer attention to minute detail was amazing. It was Puroruk's philosophy that it was the smaller details that made a piece grand. The smaller things coming together into a larger picture, each elegant on their own, and magnificent together.

 

Earlier that day, Puroruk had spent his time with the army. It was perfectly normal for him to spend large amounts of time outside of the village itself, working on larger projects within the quarries themselves. Normally those to large to transport by ussal for any considerable distance. It served as a perfect excuse to travel outside of the village without questions being asked. After arriving at the force stationed here, Puroruk had made it a note to personally meet each of the commanding officers. He needed to know the individual pieces to know what the army as a whole was like. After that, he had searched through the force of warriors, picking out those who were quick in their mind and hands. He had informed them of their new positions as weapon smiths, which they had taken without protest. Soon, he would test their current capabilities, just as the Po-Matoran that instructed him did when he had first begun his life as a craftsman. While he did not expect them to become artists within a short amount of time, they didn't need to be. They only needed to be able to maintain, and possibly create, the army's weapons and armor. It didn't need to be pretty, it just needed to work.

 

Puroruk was a believer in functionality over style. In his opinion, the beauty came from how well something -or someone- executed it's intended task. If a sword was meant for slashing, then a blade that could cut through solid metal was a beautiful blade indeed. If a statue was intended to liven up a room, then a statue that brought the room to life had no equal. This was how her approached all of his works. There was a reason why none could copy his “style”. Others that tried only saw what his works looked like, not what they did.

 

And that, was the key.

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OOCHi Gravity! Bet you didn't know someone actually had a character in your army!

 

IC- Laki - Peer's Army; Po-Wahi canyon

 

Laki turned the metal.

The hammer strokes hit the red hot object hard, sending out explosions of small red sparks that carved red lines in the air. Laki could feel the vibration travel up the object’s entire body. The hammer strokes continued, a cyclical rhythm kept up by the Ga-Matoran across from him.
Laki turned the metal.
The Ga-Matoran hit the metal again, unceasing in her perfectly timed strokes. They were powerful, too, evidenced by the bending of the metal object and the explosion of sparks. Her hammer strokes did not let up, bending the metal again over on itself, slowly, unceasingly.
Laki turned the metal.
She smashed the hammer again and again, making indent after indent, beating flat the object. The metal was becoming stronger, for earlier Laki had placed it over another type of protodermis, and the two types were becoming one as the object was folded over by the hammer blows.
Laki turned the metal.
The sparks were mesmerizing. They appeared so quickly and disappeared so fast, but for half a second, they danced crazily on the desert wind of Po-Wahi. Every so often one spark would draw his eyes away and he would see the rest of the anvils and the other sparks, but not for long.
Laki turned the metal.
The two matoran continued their ritual, as the girl worked hard, forming the object, and Laki mindlessly watched the object in awe. He felt the shudders pass through the stiff metal, and wondered in amazement at this act of creation. They were making something out of nothing.
Laki turned the metal.
His life hadn’t always been like this. No, there was something else before the weapon making, before the hammer plows and the sparks and the force shuddering and shaping the two metal types. Those times had transformed into nothing but vague memories, half forgotten dreams.
Laki turned the metal.
Sometimes he wished he could remember those times. They seemed kind of happy. They were sort of idyllic, and every so often he felt a sense of loss, of sorrow, almost horror. These feelings had become less and less common, and their memory, too, was slipping away from him.
Laki turned the metal.
Those memories were going now. Every beat, every hammer stroke, seemed to make them less real. As the metal object was created, his memories were being destroyed. But Laki was too busy watching to care. Another hammer blow, another shower of sparks, another memory gone.
Laki turned the metal.
Laki sometimes wondered what the Ga-Matoran thought, whether she had memories. He didn’t think so. She was less of a person; more a force of nature, a constant factor in his life. The hammer blows were as constant and unchangeable as the rhythm of tides on the shore of the sea.
Laki turned the metal.
For him, the world had turned into nothing but the endless beating of the hammer on the glowing metal, folding it stronger and stronger, making it into a new thing. His world ended at the edges of the anvil, filled with nothing but heat and sparks. It was everything to him now.
Laki turned the metal.
The rhythm stopped, and for a second, every piece of Laki’s brain recoiled in horror- the world had ended. There was no more hammer. No more beating and sparks and shuddering of the object. His world had ended and turned the nothing.
But he remembered that this, too, was part of the cycle, for his world had transformed into it’s final state, metamorphosised into it’s last stage, it’s ultimate goal. This had been the meaning of his world, the thing his object was trying to be.
It was a crudely made thing, but beautiful, too, it a way. It was functional, and that was beauty. It had a handle and a blade, a sharp edge and a decent balance.
It was Complete, finally.
But the cycle would not end.
Laki turned to the fireplace and pulled out two long, thin, rectangular sheets of metal with tongs. The two pulled from the fire were red hot, and he pressed them together with the tongs, those tools that made worlds. He used the tongs to place the metal sheets on the anvil, and the hammer blows came again, and the sparks returned, and a new world was born, starting it’s life cycle to reach a new pinnacle of perfection.
Laki turned the metal.
Edited by Visaru

--------------   Tarrok | Korzaa | Verak | Kirik   --------------

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IC: Aria

 

Aria nodded, looking at the envelope.

 

"Very good then. Two questions. Do you require proof of execution? Also, the one that I'm not killing, what level of injury is acceptable?" she asked.

 

IC: [Casterly Rock – Destro]

 

Destro paused a second for thought. Having the body of an unnamed Toa brought to his home might seem a little suspicious if the local authorities were ever to come by. “The only thing I require is his Kanohi. As for the Ira, he should come willingly. He, like you, received invitation to come to this house. I merely wish for you to act as his chauffeur, bringing him back here safely and intact.” He said with a clever little smirk. “So do we have a deal, Aria?”

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OOC: giving The Clockmaker an accent. IC: The ClockmakerDeciding the others were too preoccupied to pay attention to him, he continued to wander the deck a little. He stopped when he caught sight of a bird bundled up in a makeshift nest near the door leading below deck. It was Ilu, the Rahi that Kehuri had left when he headed to Le-Koro, although the Clockmaker didn't know that. He squatted down, "'Ullo there! Are you a talking Rahi?"The bird stared blankly at him. "Well, clearly not yet at any rate. Wot are you doing 'ere?" Not expecting an answer, he shifted the rags that made up its nest. Spotting its splinted wing, he let it be, though he sat nearby, studying it carefully. "'Ang on, I've seen one o' you before. You're one of those bird that does learn to talk!" He squatted in front of it again. "I 'aven't seen one o' you in a long time. I wonder 'ow you got your wing like that..."

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IC: Lasinia

 

Hello there.

 

"Who are you?"

 

I'm the subconscious representation of your inner self that looks upon the world and wonders: "hey, this place needs some cheering up"

 

"I didn't understand that at all."

 

Neither did I - I'm you remember? It's too complicated anyway.

 

"So why am I talking to myself again?"

 

Because I'm mad.

 

"I already knew that though. It's a requirement for all Toa to be mad on some level."

 

Except I'm on a completely different level - I blame my suspiciously convenient amnesia.

 

"I liked that boat. It was sad to see it crash against the rocks and explode into a shower of wooden splinters. It was comfy to sleep in."

 

I know. I had fun failing to navigate around.

 

"So why am I talking to myself again?"

 

I'm bored.

 

"Well waiting on Captain Lohkar does lead to boredom, especially when I have nothing to do."

 

Have you ever noticed I only call him Handsome Blue Guy, but never Captain Lohkar?

 

"It's more descriptive really."

 

Good point. Although it's like I don't really consider him much of a captain.

 

"I preferred Raknar - he was more interesting."

 

You mean because I could peak on him and Song for fun.

 

"Well yeah ... how did I do that anyway?"

 

Uhhmmm .... ugguuu~?

 

"Did I just kill my subconscious?"

 

No, I think I just stopped thinking for a second or two because I have no idea how I actually found myself everywhere on the ship.

 

"I heard that some people subscribe to the theory that I'm a representation of the Infernavika's soul."

 

That's a stupid hypothesis anyway. No experimental proof. At all.

 

"It's cute though."

 

Is there anything I don't consider cute?

 

"Floria. She's attractive instead."

 

I consider Tellus, Gunner, Lohkar, Yasurek ... everyone attractive."

 

"I don't consider Mimira attractive."

 

She's the cute little sister I never had. Don't think I had a childhood, really.

 

"All I remember is the boat and nothing before it. Although I think there was something about being alone a lot."

 

Think I was an orphan?

 

"Probably. Or maybe I can be more cynical and say that my parents just didn't care about me."

 

Am I usually this sad?

 

"Well I could argue that I throw up a mask of cheerfulness to hide my inner pain, but I have no inner pain. At all."

 

Yeaah ... what am I doing again?

 

"Thinking that Tellus and Gunner make an adorable couple?"

 

Yep, I think that was it.

 

"They're a perfect fit for each other! One's serious and the other is less serious!"

 

I actually use their actual names for some reason.

 

"Never bothered to forget their names I think."

 

Hmmm ... saay, does Yasu have a birthday?

 

"Dunno. Should ask him. I need to buy a present for the guy. And fulfil my promise to take over the island's economy with him."

 

Yasu's cute.

 

"I agree. Yasu is cute and adorable and handsome and stuff."

 

I'm saying this out loud you know.

 

"Really?"

 

Lasinia blinked, and looked around at her fellow crew-members.

 

"I'm not crazy," she said cheerfully.

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IC: Gunner - The Infernavika

 

Well. That was....something.

 

My immediate response to the situation was just to stand stock-still, staring at Lasinia, my mouth slightly agape, with only the occasional blink or two to prove that I was, in fact, still alive. Fortunately, I was able to regain my composure (or at least whatever was left of it) quickly enough to avoid looking like a complete moron.

 

"Well," I announced, quietly clearing my throat, "I think I'm just going to ignore that part about me and Tellus and grab myself a drink..."

 

And I turned on my heel, already heading down to the stores to make good on my promise.

 

~(15 minutes of drinking later)~

I soon found myself lying on my bed (well, technically Raknar's bed, but no one has yet to point out that I stole it), with a half-empty bottle of whisky clutched in one hand, all the while staring distractedly at the label on a nearby crate of Bula Berrys:

 

Ga-Koro's Finest Bula Berrys: Guaranteed Fresh and Delicious! Hand-Picked in Sunny Ga-Koro by Trained Professionals!

 

Somehow, I doubted any of that was a lie, even most of it couldn't be called the "whole" truth by any stretch of the imagination. No doubt some Matoran in marketing came up with some clever name for that trick of half-lying, but I didn't care enough to think about it.

 

Suddenly, the sound of harsh cries roused me from my (admittedly inane) thoughts, and I rolled my head around to see Raknar (the monkey, not the Skakdi) leaping around in his cage, obviously very uncomfortable and most likely a little put out from having been left in a dark store room for hours on end. I would have to have some serious words with Mim and Lasi about the responsibility of taking care of a pet....at some point. Not now though. Most certainly not now.

 

No, no, right now I was busy thinking. Introspection; it's a bad habit I picked up during my wanderings across the island (one of many, if I have to be frank). Just don't tell anyone; wouldn't want the crew to think I was, y'know, deep or philosophical or anything like that. It'd destroy my reputation as a Grade-A antagonist.

 

Anyway, I was thinking: about lots of things, really. Raknar, Grochi, Perkahn, Floria, Xa-Koro, the Guards who've been sitting next to us for I-don't-know-how-long, Malinus, Raknar (again, the monkey), bula berrys and getting some more whisky as soon as I was willing to get up.

 

Mostly, my brain was intent on repeating some of Raknar's last words to me, though for what reason, I have no clue in Karz. It was a wonderful, no wait, masterful work of words illustrating my pathetic lack of substance. I couldn't remember the words precisely, but I knew he did a good job of explaining why I sucked as a being.

 

One of these days, I really need to get that Skakdi to write that speech down for me. And maybe hang it on a wall somewhere for me too.

 

I grinned, despite the overall grim context of the memory, and swung my legs up onto the bed properly. Much more comfortable, methinks. But, yeah, Raknar, anyway. I do sorta wish we hadn't left under such a cloud (or perhaps thunderhead would be a better noun here), or at least that I could have the chance to talk to him again; explain to him how much I had grown since he'd verbally knocked my teeth out. Karz, I could even thank him, though I doubt I ever will, for pushing me onto the track towards improving myself.

 

Or maybe it was Grochi who did that, since, out of the two of them, he was the first to put me in my place for being such a...well, I'm not gonna describe in detail what I could've been called (and probably still do deserve to be called), but it wasn't good. I'd like to thank him too, if I could.

 

Karz, if I was that sort of person, I might even thank the whole bleedin' ship for fixing me. My entire stay on the 'Vika has been like one big self-help seminar, only with more whisky and less preaching.

 

But, of course, the chances of me ever vocalzing such things are probably close to nil. I'm not really that sort of guy, y'know, mainly 'cause my brother was never that sort of guy. Not saying I'm like Malinus, but for the last few years or so, I've been disturbingly similar to him.

 

Thanks Raknar, you brakas.

 

Another harsh shriek erupted from Monkey-Raknar's maw, and I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to get up soon.

 

Thanks Grochi, though burning my sandwich was a bit much.

 

I staggered to my feet, inadvertently defying common knowledge that said a person couldn't climb while lying on their back, and stumbled my way over to his cage.

 

Thanks Lohkar, you bloody drama-queen, you.

 

Taking another swig of whisky to steady my frayed nerves (ironically, also from the whisky), I took hold of the container's handle, picking it up.

 

Thanks Yasu, and Lasinia, and Mim, and Tellus, and Verak, and Doomie, and Perkahn...thanks, all of you weirdos.

 

With a final, dazed smile, I began climbing back up onto the main decks, and into the bright Po-Wahi sunlight (what I wouldn't give for some of those obsidian glasses right now).

 

"Alright, who left Raknar down in the store?" I asked, holding the equally-uncomfortable monkey up for everyone to see.

 

-Void

Edited by Emissary to the Void
 
 
[ BZPRPG ]

 

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IC: The Clockmaker

Overcome by a need to explore, the Toa of Iron gently picked up the parrot-Rahi and placed it on his shoulder. He examined it from below for a moment. "A boy!" he said at length, more to himself than anyone else. "I wonder if it's got a name..."

 

Any attempt to come up with one was interrupted by the bird's cry. "Ilu! Ilu!" it cawed, flapping its good wing.

 

"Ilu, eh?" said The Clockmaker with a grin, "That's what I'll call you then. Until I find out if it really is your name or not."

 

With the newly re-named Ilu perched on his shoulder- he saw no reason to put it back- he wandered the Fowadi's deck once again. "Say, 'oo's bird is this anyways?" he asked anyone within earshot.

Edited by Marius Pontmercy

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If I go AWOL for a while, feel free to contact me via Discord

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IC: Tera pulled her sword out of the practice dummy. You know, you should really stop swing-slicing that so ever-hard. The Po-Toa didn't respond to her mask, instead swinging the sword into the dummy even harder. She sighed, putting the sword back in its sheath and leaving the practice area.

 

OOC: Open for interaction.

No such thing as destiny.

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-IC: Araedrex Tenebras, The Firestorm King-
The City of Stone, with its monolithic statues and structures as primordial as the canyons, cliffs, and sands that surrounded them, was normally a peaceful, happy place, almost exotic in nature, with the exciting bazaar and beautiful, if somewhat desolate, landscape.
Or so it seemed.
Beneath the façade of happiness and content, horrors lurked, like any other city, country, empire, or civilization known to Matoran, Toa, Skakdi, Vortixx, or any species one cares to name.
Araedrex Tenebras thought it was rather disappointing how the world and his fellow beings acted, believing they could justify their actions and violence away, blaming and demonizing others, as if their pitiful reasons for bloodshed made the pain they caused right. Long ago, he realized that no one, save those who, like him, realize the stupidity of all, ever realized how the world was a (if viewed remotely) hilarious mess of demonization, glorification, ignorance, and primal violence, hidden beneath a layer of “civilization”, the most hilarious, self-deceiving, double-think requiring mess of all.
As he walked the sand-swept streets of Po-Koro, staring at the edifices erected from cliffs of stone, and huts constructed of sand, he felt no emotion, no mental stimulation in response to that which most thought of as aesthetically pleasing. As he ran his fingers over the coarse stone walls, listened to the sounds of quiet and pleased life, all he felt was a hollow feeling, a state of apathetic detachment, a feeling that indicated that there was no reason anyone should have any opinion about anything, seeing as it didn’t really matter what one thought about anything.
The full moon was the Ta-Toa’s only guide as he traveled through the darkened city of Po-Koro, finally pausing at the entrance of a small, disorderly bar, silent, save for the sound of quiet talking. He recognized it instantly, a business infamous for selling the harshest liquors at the lowest prices, and never asking questions. Its lights illuminating the street around it, it seemed a beacon of light in a sea of darkness, that, to most, would have evoked a sense of joy and serenity. Araedrex? The sight of the lighted lamp invoked a sense of thoughtfulness, and he spent the next few moments pondering on one’s primordial fear of darkness, a thought-provoking, scholar-worthy mental essay that lasted all of three seconds. It would have blown the minds of all but the most hardy intellectuals, yet he only spent mere moments pondering, half-focused.
Entering the bar, he dispassionately stared at the liquor-stained tables, and then the nigh-desolate bar, covered with shards of nut shells, scraps of food, and, as one would expect, more spilled liquor. The sight of the place was terrible; chaos and disarray defined every feature. The look of the place contrasted sharply with the silence, creating an eerie atmosphere, as if Araedrex was observing the destruction that resulted from an event long ago.
A Po-Matoran tended the bar, his eyes wide with anxiety as he watched Araedrex. The bartender’s frame quivered, from nerves, it appeared, as he gripped the cleaning rag tightly, running it across the bar’s surface as if he was attempting to wear away the polished wood.
It was the bar’s other occupants, however, who captured Araedrex Tenebras’ attention. A Skakdi, his hulking frame at the very least thrice that of the Matoran’s. As Araedrex paused as his stare was returned by the Skakdi, who decided that showing his teeth would be the proper warning. Araedrex gave no such response in turn, instead slowly swiveling his eyes to stare at the third, and, besides himself, last occupant of the bar; A Toa. Her armour contained so many colors, Araedrex was unable to discern what element she claimed control over. She, in contrast to her companion, seemed relatively friendly, until she took notice of Araedrex’s inspection, and frowned, as she placed her hand on the hilt of her blade.
Pausing from his inspection of the two other occupants, who continued to stare darkly back at him, Araedrex decided to examine the Po-Matoran once more. Araedrex stared impassively into the Matoran‘s fretful eyes. Araedrex observed him for a moment more, and then he spoke, his eyes drifting from the bar to an uninhabited corner of the bar, hidden in shadows.
Water, to state my thirst. Whatever sustaning consumables you have on hand. Please, do not bother to taint them with what ever repelling condiments you happen to own; their basic, purest form is what I desire.” Araedrex said, glancing at the expectant Po-Matoran, before resuming his stare at the shadows in the corner, regarding them as he pondered. There was no emotion in his voice, not even the slight depression heard in the emotionally detached. No, this voice was as utterly inhuman and unearthly as the crimson specter from whence it came, the silent, drifting being that wandered the streets of Po-Koro at night, marveling at the dark and shadowed.
The Po-Matoran seemed to shrink in disappointment, nodding in visible depression at the refusal of assistance. As he exited the bar to approach Araedrex with the required items, the Skakdi laid a massive hand on his shoulder, making the Po-Matoran freeze before slowly turning. The massive being’s grin greeted him, sadistic and terrifying to behold, a cruel suggestion of whatever plan the Skakdi had to make this Po-Matoran‘s life a most miserable existence. As the Skakdi released him, his glowing red eyes seeming to devour the Po-Matoran where he stood, the smaller being moved away, slowly backpedaling before turning round once more, to approach Araedrex.
Please, sir,” He whispered as he laid the tray down, his face shining from perspiration. “These gang barbarians; They plan to pillage my bar. It’s some mission their gang leader gave them.” He paused, his eyes wide, pleading. “You are a Toa, are you not? Please, I beg of you, help me, remove these vile beings from my respectable establishment.
Araedrex paused, about to reach for his glass of water, to listen to the Po-Matoran, his eyes as insensitive as ever. Tilting his head to stare at this being requesting his help, the Po-Matoran saw the sheer heartlessness displayed in his face, and shivered, thinking this being might be worse the gang members.
Who are you to call these beings vile?” Araedrex asked, his voice incredibly soft, and almost, strangely enough, gentle. “You own a establishment created to profit off of one’s desire of an addictive substance. Certainly this is vile? They consume your products, and cause destruction. The blame can be shared. There is certainly enough to go around.” He asked, his voice so chillingly soft, so dangerously quiet, the Po-Matoran almost fled in sheer terror. When the Po-Matoran refrained from replying, Araedrex drew a dagger from his pocket, a slender, elegant weapon.
S-sir, all I ask is that you lend me help in my time of need…” The Po-Matoran said, stammering out of sheer terror. Behind him, the Skakdi and Toa were rising, staring at the Po-Matoran, visibly agitated at the possibility that this Toa may be a Guard member, or some do-gooder whom the Matoran would be able to recruit.
Fate will not lend you help in your time of need. Neither will Mata-Nui, or any other deity,” Araedrex said softly, staring down at the Matoran imperturbably, flipping the dagger across his fingers, rotating it to catch the light, blinding and entrancing all observers. Pausing the rotation, he turned the knife, catching the flat of the blade between forefinger and thumb, and offering the hilt to the Po-Matoran. “Fend for yourself. Face the products of your respectable establishment.” He said, as quiet and toneless as ever, as he flipped the knife into the air, just before the Po-Matoran could reach it. Catching it by the rigid, leather-lacking grip, he began to twirling it once more, letting the steel blade and wooden hilt dance across his fingertips and palm. The Po-Matoran’s face drained of all color, as he realized what had just occurred. His eyes pleading, he reached for the knife once more.
Instantly, Araedrex reacted, grabbing the wrist of the outstretching arm, pulling it towards him as he placed a hand on the now-terrified Matoran’s chest, causing him to lose balance, before releasing the wrist and pushing suddenly and powerfully with the other hand. The Matoran tumbled and tripped backwards across the room, colliding into the Toa, sending her tumbling into her Skakdi accomplice.
Araedrex stood, calm and composed, spending a moment to stare at the three beings, and then exited the building, as the screams of the Po-Matoran, the roaring of the Skakdi, and the laughing of the female Toa filled the air.
As he stood in the street, outside of the building, Araedrex watched the wind sweep the dust and sand covering the ground into beautiful spirals, twisting and turning in the night sky, illuminating by the white, gibbous moon, and accompanied by the soft, comforting whispers of the wind. Raising a single arm towards the moon, as if he planned to touch it, Araedrex, his fingers reaching, paused, his eyes as hard and indifferent as ever. There was a moment of beautiful, tranquil silence, save for the screams and hideous laughing in the distance; and then Araedrex clenched his hand into a fist.
The bar erupted in flames, igniting with a thunderous roar, instantly becoming an inferno of charred wood and blazing fires. The screams of the Po-Matoran were quickly joined by those of the Skakdi and Toa, as Araedrex resumed walking, both hands now stuffed deep into the pockets of his greatcoat.
The Firestorm King was disappointed with the world, they way everyone justified their wants and “needs” against the wants and needs of other. As far as he was concerned, everyone could just burn in the cost of their requests. Everyone and everything could burn in the fire of their own selfishness and pride.
A fire that The Firestorm King would be more than happy to start.

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IC: Rynekk - The Fowadi

 

"No idea, sorry," I said in answer to a smart-looking Toa with some kind of bird perched on his shoulder. I may not have been an expert, but I didn't think there were any birds native to Po-Wahi, so it might have hitched a ride with the ship from the jungles. Either that, or someone onboard decided we needed a pet (for the record: we don't).

 

I walked over to the being with the bird, eyeing the avian creature carefully, "Where'd you find this little guy, eh?"

 

OOC: That's the Clockmaster he's taking to, Drae.

 

-Void

 
 
[ BZPRPG ]

 

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OOC: Thanks, void! Also, phone post. IC: The Clockmaker"Right over there," he answered, indicating the bundle of cloths next to the door leading below deck. "'E 'ad 'is own little nest, so I was led to assume 'e's been 'ere for a day or so. I think 'is name is Ilu."

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IC: Maioro (Po-Koro Streets at night)

 

He'd seen it all.

 

As The Fire King exited the bar, there sat a lone Toa on a bench across the establishment, listening and watching from a distance. Keen eyes observed the poor Matoran's fate through one of its windows, sitting throughout the gruesome show without lifting a finger to help.Only then did he witness the tell-tale signs of a masterful elementalist; the stranger's hand tightened into a fist before roaring flames burst into life, engulfing the building behind him with flickering tongues of fire.

 

Fearsome. Maioro's smile broadened.

 

Blood-chilling screams accompanied the light show, both presences surely attracting attention from the local area. It was only a matter of time until the authorities showed up, followed by questioning later on. To his delight, the being of earth wouldn't need to endure that since Araedrex did the smart thing: walk away. Now whether Maioro was playing the game smart was questionable.

 

He'd begun tailing the Toa of fire, maintaining a safe distance while keeping his pace casually slow. No effort was made to shadow his presence and no precautions were taken to ensure his safety from this...enigma. He'd be discovered soon enough. Why, Maioro didn't know, but this being was intriguing and curiosity held a firm grip. Something told him this was what he'd been looking for, that this possible madman may give him purpose.

 

And if not? Clearly the worst that could happen wasn't a mere 'go away'. Still, what did he have to lose? Now it was Tenebras' turn to play. All Maioro had to do was wait.

Edited by TX Wade
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-IC: Araedrex Tenebras-

 

Araedrex remained silent, a crimson specter unobtrusively leaving the smoldering scene of ruin. He continued to walk down the sullen streets of Po-Koro, his crimson features softened in quiet reflection, as his greatcoat's tails fluttered in the wind, illuminated by the cold moon above, and its multitude of stary companions. It seemed that this surreptitious Ta-Toa had yet to realize one was following him, as if he was oblivious to his presence, or perhaps deep in thought. Araedrex turned on a corner, several minutes later, momentarily out of sight. If Maioro followed, he would discovered an empty street where he expected the furtive Toa of Fire.

Edited by Replicant

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IC: Maioro

 

Maioro continued to follow from a distance, never allowing his target out of sight. Time passed, boredom seeped in and the Toa of earth wondered what game Aradrex was playing at. His presence was all too evident, just how it would be handled puzzled him. Would the man disappear? Burn him to a crisp? Finally turn and speak maybe?

 

As Maioro pondered the question for a moment, the Firestorm King turned a corner, forcing his pursuer to quicken his pace. He rounded the intersection, only to find a desolate street with no inch of red in sight.

 

His smile faded.

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IC (Lohkar)

 

"So," Lohkar cleared his throat. "Are we actually goin' to...ah...do...anythin'?"

 

There had been an awkward silence on the Fowadi's deck for a few minutes. Everyone was apparently distracted by the talking bird who couldn't talk...

 

"Mates," the Lesterin addressed the Guardsmen, "you've made your case. I'll help with this however I can, an' I mean that. I know I've done things you lot aren't exactly beamin' with joy about, but there's a difference between a little armed robbery an' what these Piraka 'ave done. So I hope that we can set our differences aside," he flashed a dangerous grin, "an' give 'em karz."

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-IC: Araedrex Tenebras-

 

There was the faintest sound, an infinitesimally subtle thud, unnoticeable by all but those paying the most attention. Araedrex Tenebras, who had, apparently, somehow managed to scramble up one of the nearby buildings, before hiding atop the roof, expected that Maioro could be called one of those people. He stood behind the Toa of Earth, his crimson hands still stuffed deep into his pockets, but his posture now different, his stance stronger, unyielding and sturdy. As he stared at Maioro's momentarily unprotected back, he remained disturbingly silent, unacting.

Edited by Replicant

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IC: [Ril] Ril frowned for a moment. "Say ... what was the name of the Ta-Matoran ... because I have an idea ..."

 

IC: Hewkii

 

"Orieus," Hewkii answered. "What's this idea?"

Edited by Emzee

"hey girl: here’s an idea, but… it’s up to you:

You’re the boss of this operation."

[BZPRPG Profile] [Ghosts of Bara Magna Profile]

 

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IC: Maioro - Desolate Street

 

Araedrex's expectations were rightly so. Assassins rely heavily on their senses, honing each and every one of them to percept even the faintest of details. Despite Maioro deserting the profession for some time now, old habits died hard. Several seconds of silence passed, both men's stances set in stone for the time being. However unlike the one standing behind him, the Toa of earth's posture remained slack as if he didn't have a care in the world that death might await him.

 

Finally, his head gently deviated to the side, then his entire body in one fluid motion which bore no hostility until they stood facing each other. There it was again, that slight curve of his lip, coupled with an air of curiosity while he studied the rather unique-looking warrior standing before him.

 

"Why?"

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IC: Zieta.

 

Zieta pulled the vehicle in at a parking station just out side Po Koro. Matoran eyed the car up and looked at the 5 Toa jump of of it"

"I hate this place" She said, brushing the sand of her armor. "Lets go to the local bar. I know a Matoran there that can give us some information Hes not very loose lipped, but he'll talk once he gets a few drinks down his throat."

 

She looked at a shady Matoran admiring the vehicle. "Touch it" she said, in a firm voice, "and this axe will be the last thing you'll ever see"

Edited by Commander CeeCee

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-IC: Araedrex Tenebrae-

Maioro's question lingered in the night air, unanswered, before being absorbed by the dark silence of the moonlit, derelict street. Araedrex stared at the Toa of Earth, his unnerving eyes, infernos of abysmal apathy, watching silently, unwilling to respond or in any way interact."Why?" Araedrex repeated, his mouth moving normally, but his words utterly alien, in a tone impossible for a normal Toa to create.

 

"Why, in the name of whatever deity you care to worship, not?" He paused, letting his words sink in, before resuming. "Why should I act at all differently?" He stopped once more, his stare never faltering, his face displaying no emotion.

Edited by Replicant

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IC Mayhaka

 

"Well then let's go get our little no-angel for a little talk" He wispered, he reformed the vehicle back into his warhammer. "So since you know him the best, get him to talk then" he smiled to Zeita watching the shocked face of the matoran, when the vehicle reformed.

I'm back!

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