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Bzprpg - Onu-Wahi


Friar Tuck

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OOC: When do you want to make the jump? I'm sorta kinda following you.

 

IC(Kaerhi):

 

It was perfect. He didn't have any where to go, nothing to do, except bug this Toa. Although that was only half the reason. He wanted to figure her out. It bugged him that he couldn't. Hurt his ego slightly, as well.

WIP

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IC: VeritasVeritas was done for the day. Or at least, that's what he was told. The one in charge told him to come back tomorrow. Rubbish.Well done for the day, Veritas. Be sure to come back tomorrow to get the job done. Those were the word spoken to him, and they came through his head as he was walking back. He, for some reason, hated them. Veritas had been a miner since he was a young boy, but he'd finally got tired of it. As he arrived at his hut, he threw the door open in a fit of rage. Come back tomorrow...mining...as always. I. Don't. Want. To. What's making me hate this, I don't know. All I know is that I'm sick of mining, I've been doing it for my entire life, and I need a serious break. He threw his pickaxe across the small room. I'm so tired of this. So sick. Again, I don't know why, how, or anything at all. I feel so bored at this stupid job. Then something in him made him regret it. Was it the good times he had that he had with his old friends when they mined together? The fact that he even enjoyed it a lot? He did not know why, and never found out any answers to his "why" questions today. Maybe, there will be another day. Always another day.Veritas went to pick up the tool he had thrown. "I'm sorry," he said to it. He knew that tools don't talk, they don't have feelings, and this was making him look like an idiot, but he still did it. Tomorrow he would still go out with it, but not mining. He smiled. No, not at all.

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IC (Jin)

 

I nodded; Bry didn't need any more of a response than that. I meandered between the tables, slowly but surely heading for the “poet” in the corner, while Brykon engaged the bartender in quiet conversation. My footsteps were quiet; I heard the clinking of ice falling into a glass, and gurgling of liquid being poured over top.

 

The Matoran hadn't looked up once since I'd started my approach: either he was oblivious to a nth degree, or was confident that one of his bodyguards would take me out if I tried anything nasty. A quick glance around- there was a group of miners at one table, and a few other Matoran scattered here and there. I could take 'em.

 

But that wasn't the point. We weren't here to provoke a fight. We were here for information, and all we wanted was to get in and get out. No drama, no mess.

 

I slid into the chair across from the Matoran, looked him over. He was the bookish type: scrawny and haggard, not an ounce of extra weight on him. The parchment and quill confirmed that diagnosis pretty quick.

 

He looked up, his green eyes glowing softly, and smiled without showing his teeth, or showing any emotion at all, either.

 

“Good evening,” he said quietly. “How may I help you?”

 

For some reason, this guy gave me the creeps. He wasn't creepy, exactly, and seemed pretty normal overall, but every word he spoke was precise and measured, and the way he looked at me made me feel like he knew exactly who I was, and everything about me to boot.

 

“I'm looking for information,” I replied. “Someone told me you could help.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Well, that was helpful.

 

My dilemma: if this wasn't our guy, how was I supposed to figure that out without spilling thing I didn't want him to hear?

 

“Liacada,” I finally said, lowering my voice, but otherwise throwing caution to the wind. “I need to know where she is, and how she's doing.”

 

“Turaga Whenua's assassin?” the Matoran responded with a wry glint in his eye. “Planning some vigilante justice, are we?”

 

“That's none of your business.”

 

“Oh, but it is. I can't have that on my conscience, you know.”

 

What was a conscience, again? Mine was dead and buried, and for good reason. Couldn't afford to remember some things.

 

“It'll be on my head, not yours,” I hissed. “Anyway, that's not the plan. I just want to know where she is.”

 

His eyes finally broke from mine and swept carelessly over me (perv) before glancing over to the bar. A tinge of real humour touched his smile, which up until now had been obviously fake.

 

“Jin, yes?”

 

I almost smiled (this was our guy!), but kept a straight face. Professionalism is important in my business.

 

“Yes. And you are?”

 

“That is none of your business.”

 

Well, karz. Now he had my name, knew what I wanted, and I had just as much as I'd had when I walked in. I mentally kicked myself. Stupid.

 

“No, it's not, but my name's not yours either. What is your business is information, and that's what I need. I give you money, you give me info. Comprende?”

 

“You're direct, Jin. To the point.” The Matoran looked back down at his paper, then carefully rolled it up and handed it to me. “I like that.”

 

I took the paper hesitatingly. “Is this-”

 

“Oh, no, that won't help you find your Toa. But it will help you in something else, if you understand me. Unfortunately, business like mine demands encryption, so I will not elaborate.”

 

He withdrew a second piece of parchment from under the table, and began to write again. Two lines, then he replaced his quill and blew gently to dry the ink. Apparently satisfied, he rolled it up like the first and handed it to me.

 

“There. That is all the help you need.”

 

I nodded my thanks, but left the scrolls in plain view. “And payment? I'm assuming you won't give this away for free.”

 

He smiled. “On the contrary, Jin. I am a generous man, once you get to know me. Take them, and may Mata Nui guide your path.”

 

He took up his quill and began writing again; my audience with the poet of Onu-Koro was over.

 

I made my way back to the door, lingered at the threshold, then went out. A moment later, Brykon followed, wiping his mouth. Wordlessly, we tucked ourselves into an alcove formed between the wall of the bar and the neighbouring hut. To anyone passing by, we were just some drunk couple. The reality was a bit different.

 

Withdrawing the two scrolls, I handed the second to Bry, keeping the first for myself. We unrolled them at the same time, and read the spidery handwriting with some difficulty, seeing as our only light source was the thousands of lightstones embedded in the cave's ceiling. It wasn't dark by a long shot, but it wasn't exactly reading light.

 

My scroll had four lines written on it, twice as many as Brykon's had. With a small flicker of surprise, I realized the lines formed a verse of poetry. The Matoran was a poet, indeed.

 

Trophy of the elder strong, of stone

Held in land of snow and frost and ice

Architect of sinking island's groan

Make all haste to aid him in his plight

 

Bry finished his before I did; we traded silently. His was brief, to the point, and much more understandable than mine.

 

Do not seek that which you sought

She is not bound; she is not caught

 

I finished, and looked up at Brykon, who was only a moment behind me. “Well?”

Edited by Half a Cup of EW
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Ic: As Brykon read the first Jin handed him he was confused. Surely his instincts hadn't betrayed him -- Aurelia all but confirmed he was right in suspecting Liacada had been jailed, too. Which made him wonder who to believe most: Himself or this poet. Aurelia was a clever woman and could have played a cunning trick to deceive him, through this poet, to think Liacada was gone, but as soon as he thought of this possibility he purged it; there was no foreseeable reason for that, so he moved on from that theory. Maybe Liacada had escaped or been saved by someone else or even died in captivity. The message was vague as much as it was simple and Brykon didn't like that. Still, seeing no alternative he decided to not pursue Liacada at all. If she was still alive and free then she would return to Po-Wahi as ordered to. If not, then... no point in thinking about the matter.

 

His mind switched gears when they traded messages and he read the longer poem.

 

Trophy of the elder strong, of stone

Held in land of snow and frost and ice

Architect of sinking island's groan

Make all haste to aid him in his plight

 

His brows furrowed in yet further befuddlement. What could this mean? he thought.

 

"Well?" Jin asked, seeing that he was done reading the poem.

 

"I'm not sure what it says," he admitted, "but I know what it means." He reread the passage a second and third time before rolling it and setting it alight with a cigar to prevent leaks, something he repeated on Jin's scroll. "You have to go to Ko-Koro."

 

"What? Why?"

 

"I don't know what, but somehow Onewa left something and you have to clean the mess up. I can't go; they'll catch me. You, however, are still an unknown to that city and can work undetected."

 

"What did it mean about an architect?" Jin asked.

 

But Brykon didn't know what that part meant. He knew there was at least one more Peer but nobody had ever told him who it was. Or was this mess in Ko-Koro a scion of Aurelia's? She was the architect of the Kumu Islets sundering, after all. Either way, Brykon was in no hurry to meet this architect or handle his or her problem. The only reason he felt any need to chase the lead given by the poet's cryptic words was because they were delivered by an ally of Aurelia, and despite his intense dislike of her micromanagement and obsessive scheming he was still in her employ and followed her commands so long as they were understandable.

 

Brykon wasn't showing it but he felt the rigors of war on him. He was a colonel, a soldier who theoretically commanded an army and had already slaughtered hundreds of innocents in this conflict against the Great Spirit. Dorian had gotten the right idea and left; he would do better in good company than in Bad Company anyway. At least another member had become disillusioned with the employment, not including Brykon, but he had been very jaded about the job for a long while now. The only reason he remained as company commander because he believed there was no one else who could do it without succumbing to the pressures or becoming a villain themselves. He hated the conflict and the damage it did, but while his armor was pitted, his skin scarred and his mind tired Jin displayed none of that wear and tear. She was eager and willing, embracing the violent life she had chosen and completed tasks others wouldn't do; case in point: Vakama. He was glad she at least wasn't a sadistic . Not yet, anyway.

 

"I don't know," he answered. "But when you finish there, meet us back at the canyon and tell me what you've found. And don't die. Good leftenants are hard to come by these days," he said. "Any more questions?"

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IC (Jin)

 

I shook my head. "None. I'll meet you in Po, Colonel."

 

Brykon nodded once, and extended his closed fist. I did the same, and we bumped knuckles. Usually, that was a Toa sort of thing, but it worked just fine as a signal that we understood each other.

 

I understood him -or I'd thought I had. He was a hard, honest man, who did what he had to do, and did it right. But after that scene in Aurelia's mansion... I wasn't a hundred percent sure I knew who Brykon was. Dor had known him better.

 

I clenched my teeth at the reappearance of that name in my thoughts. I'd sworn him off in Ta; he didn't deserve me thinking about him anymore. Scumbag.

 

Right. Professionalism. Forget him, and get the job done.

 

I nodded to Bry, then slipped out of the alcove and quickly made my way through Onu-Koro, keeping to the shadows. I had to find an Ussal to rent (or steal, if necessary), and get on the road to Ko as quickly as possible.

 

Why? To karz if I knew.

 

 

OOC Jin to Ko-Wahi.

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Ic: Brykon lingered in the alcove for a moment after Jin departed and he cursed himself. Despite his flexing of muscles and personal leverage he still felt used, and that angered the colonel more than anything. He raised the cigar to his lips and dragged on it to soothe his mind, but the ease of tension was gone as soon as the cloud of smoke cleared and he was forced to drink the vapour again to assuage his nerves.

 

Brykon knew what was going on around him -- he understood that he was a pawn in a game of chess that he had no power over. To his handlers he was just a tool and a weapon to be manipulated and moved, albeit a feisty minion at that. His goal, however, was to stop being what his employers wanted him to be. When he was Senegal, the "brutal bard," he was used by his managers just the same. They wanted a spectacle, something gory and enthralling that would capture an audience and snatch their widgets. He despised that life, hated its ramifications and was eager to escape from it. That was no way to live, he knew.

 

That all changed when he took a trip to Ga-Koro, though, and was captured by someone with a nobler soul. When Senegal wanted to run from himself, Antrim pinned him and taught him to be strong. The toa-protector helped him become aware of things beyond the mere sense of dissatisfaction with himself. For years, Senegal used weapons; Antrim taught him become a weapon. But he didn't stop there. Antrim knew that Senegal needed purpose, a redefinition and a mission to do, something not worthless like entertainment. Generals needed wars to fight or else they went soft. That was when Senegal learned of the plot against Mata Nui, and while he knew no details it still gave him something to accomplish. With his new identity and knowledge he left the Massif to seek out the evils that existed.

 

Brykon had been manipulated to slaughter hundreds of people and had drawn more blood that when he was a ringfighter, but he was no villain. He led a team of amoral killers called Bad Company but he was no criminal. He personally butchered the turaga of Ko-Koro but he was not a psycho. Brykon refused to allow himself be the bad man because if he did, the mission would be over. But ever step he made in the right direction was walled off by his employers, the very people he needed to destroy. He left the alcove and walked through the streets of Onu-Koro and cast a long look back at Aurelia's palace, wishing nothing more than the opportunity to yank that vixen's head from her neck like picking a fruit from a tree, but shook his head and somberly departed from the sight. He couldn't kill the Peers, not yet, not until he was assured of a victory and fully aware of their plans.

 

Head hung low in shame he entered the highway network of tunnels and began his trek to Po-Wahi.

 

Ooc: Brykon to Po.

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IC: Veritas

 

Veritas, waking up a while ago, headed for the tunnel leading to the lightstone cave. So it looked like he was heading for the cave, but in fact, he wasn't. No mining today, Veritas. He smiled to himself. With his lightstone out as usual, he headed in. So, Ta-Koro or Le-Wahi are my choices. I'd say Le-Wahi for now. Though i'm not likely to stay. After following the map for a while, he saw some light ahead, and he followed it. Trees, and sunlight. He took a step, and entered Le-Wahi.

 

OOC: Veritas to Le-Wahi.

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IC: Viracious in Onu-Koro Tunnels

 

Viracious continued to walk along the lightstone lit the path.

 

He had passed a few Onu-Matoran, and Ussal Crabs untill he finally came to a halt. He had the option to go to Onu-Koro or Le-Koro.

 

"Onu-Koro or home-sweet-home?" he asked himself.

 

He then took the path leading to Le-Koro.

 

OOC: Back.

Edited by Damaracx 7.0
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IC: Vuracious exiting Onu-Wahi

 

Vuracious took a path leading to where some Onu-Matoran miners were, but most importantly: the entrace to Le-Koro.

 

Vuracious walked through the cold cave and into a slightly warmer area; Le-Wahi.

 

OOC: Nobody has posted in 12 hours so I can double post.

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IC:

 

The massive titan moved his shoulders in what could be called a non-committal shrug, though it seemed to be more of a sign of slight disappointment that they had let the Toa of Ice go than as an answer to the question. "Tell me, Feongulf," He said, his bloodred gaze tearing itself from the murky shadows that floated about in the area, before focusing on the gunmetal-armored Fe-Matoran at the mention of her name, "When was the last time you witnessed the assorted backstabbing rabble that call themselves "Followers of Makuta" form a functioning group for any respectable length of time? One that did aside with petty ambition and lust for power, paranoia and misguided quests of personal gain? When was the last time you saw a group that wasn't poised to off whatever delusional leader that had put himself in power at the slightest hint of weakness? When was the last time you saw a group that did anything effective in any regard?"

 

The gigantic Toa of Gravity paused in his barrage of rhetorical inquiries, eyebrow raised in apparent amusement despite the accusations put forth. He wasn't expecting an answer from the Parakuka-latched Matoran, and so the hulking being continued. "Oh yes, some glorious things have been done in the name of Makuta. The partial destruction of Po-Koro, Onu-Koro, Pala-Koro, Ko-Koro; the abduction of all six Turaga with the subsequent latching of Parakuka; and many more things that chipped away at the resolve of this island. Those are all good and well, but done by isolated groups. There is need for order, Feongulf, and I plan on bringing it together."

 

With that, the mountainous Toa was silent as they continued down the dark tunnels that spread throughout the area. They weren't alone down here, but that was something that Feongulf would learn later. To say the least, the Toa of Gravity liked to have some... insurance.

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BZPRPG -

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IC: Feongulf ~

 

"And this makes you different from all the other madmen using wishs of "order" as a smokescreen for personal gain how?" I said, limping along beside the bulky Toa of Gravity, my first meeting with the Dreamer springing to mind. "Order" was a myth created to keep people from killing each other over scraps of bread, but even if people's faith in the fiction made it into reality, bestial chaos always lurked beneath the surface. "You have a good excuse, but is that all it is?"

 

On the other hand, anyone this informed's probably someone good to keep on the good side of, I thought. Not as if I have anything better to do, not now.

 

"And if you are honest," I continued, sighing. "How are the two of us alone going to change anything? The Followers of Makuta serve the one with the greatest power, and that's certainly not me."

Edited by Javert
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IC: Leli

 

If the green-armored Matoran noticed that Tarnok was somewhere else, she didn't show it. She simply unwrapped one of her arms from around him, and began to lead him towards his hut. Where else could she bring him?

 

OOC: suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucky post but w/e

 

IC: Whorok

 

Whorok cleared his throat to attract the two's attention.

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IC:

 

Tarnok paused in mid-stride, pivoting on one foot to look at Whorok. He was different than he was mere moments ago. The vacant look in his eyes was gone, replaced by the familiar intellectual steel that usually resided within. But there was an undercurrent of something else, something unidentifiable. Something that made the air sizzle with energy bubbling below the surface.

 

"What can I do for you, Whorok?"

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Whorok

 

"Well, after the wake-up call you gave me last time we met... I've been thinking, and you're right, an uprising is not the way to go. The problem is that I find myself dumbfounded without something to do" Whorok stomped involuntarily, he often did that when he was confused.

 

"I want to help, and I know you do as well. Let's work together, I'm sure we can figure something out."

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IC:

 

"Start getting involved."

 

"This village is in a unique place. We have lost our Turaga, but we have also lost our elders, as well. The corrupt officials that have slowly been squandering this village's potential are gone, and a vacuum of power has opened. Work to ensure that people with the right intentions make it into positions of power, and gather support from your fellow villagers. That is the only way this place is going to start down the path to repair."

 

"But I'm not the person to look to for help. Despite what people might say," The Onu-Matoran glanced briefly towards the village square. "I'm one Matoran. Even more than that, I am a single, low-ranking guard. And I have no intention of seeking out anything more. I doubt my opinion holds much sway in this place, and even if it did, it does not hold nearly the weight of a group of united citizens."

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Morok in Onu-Wahi Tunnels

 

Morok ran through the tunnles of Onu-Wahi, in the process of doing so, running into a few matoran.

 

"Sorry!", he called back to a Onu-Matoran who he ran in to.

 

He then, made a sudden stop.

 

There were two tunnles in front of him. One led to Le-Wahi, the other to Onu-Koro.

 

"Where did Vuracious go?", he asked himself silently.

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IC: Onuzek

 

The lumbering brute of a Ba-Toa chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his massive frame, echoing off the packed dirt walls that held them within the confines of the area. "I am not foolish enough to proclaim that I have no thoughts of personal gain, I do, but I am not about to let something as petty as my own insignificant desires to come between matters such as this," The gigantic being replied, his bloodred eyes still fixed on what lied ahead of their journey, both seen and unseen. "And we all have our place in the scheme of things, whether large or small. A pair becomes a trio, a trio into a group. A group into a force, and a force into an organization."

 

"We simply have to start something, and it will continue."

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BZPRPG -

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IC: Morok entering Le-Wahi

 

Morok, hoping he was right, ran towards the entrance that would take him to where he thought Vuracious was.

 

"Karz, this is my only good guess just because this is where he used to live.", which made a few of the miners he went pass think he was crazy, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that he would finally avenge his honor and his people.

 

He wanted justice for this former Dar Hunter and that's what he was going to give him.

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IC: Onuzek

 

IC: Feongulf ~

 

I threw Onuzek a noncommittal shrug. "Whatever."

 

He has a point, I thought, mulling over his words. But he will fall too, eventually, just like everyone else, and where will that leave me?

 

. . .The same place I'm already in. Not as if things can get much worse.

 

"So, where are we headed? Things might continue if we start them, but they sure as karz won't start themselves."

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