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A Clockwork Dream


Voltex

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Gonna go with question B and Option A.

 

Violet eyes may be odd, but I have this terribly sneaking suspicion about what it means. As for the graveyard, well, we can't go around it, we either have to go around its edges or through the middle. Depending on the shape of the graveyard, going around the edges may result in a higher chance of death if the perimeter of graveyard happens to be longer than simply walking in a straight line to the exit. Going through the middle may be shorter.

 

And if the graveyard is protected, then I imagine the edges of the graveyard have a lot more protection. 

On Bota Magna, everything is about to fall apart.


 

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I'm going to go around the ruins. We have little idea what could be in the ruins, and if there is magic filling this island, there will be traps. It's far easier to trap a building than it is to trap the wilderness.

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EPISODE 02

RUINS

-GROUP ONE-

-Rassilon Boscage-

One by one, each member of the group elected to join Voltex in venturing through the center of the graveyard, and avoiding the edges. For a brief moment Rassilon toyed with splitting apart from the group just to disagree – he really couldn’t stand agreeing with the likes of Kuan and Kirthaj – but his common sense prevailed. If the Mask Maker, no matter what had happened to him since the Battle for the Dawn, had chosen to go through, so would he.

 

As they walked among the tombstones, a deep, unpenetrable fog slowly dropped down around them, until Rassilon could barely make out Kirthaj and Pruinus at the front of the group. The air felt stifling, and an unsettling tension crept up his spine. Shadows began to dance at the edges of his vision, and Rassilon felt as though they might be more than mere hallucinations… something that Voltex soon confirmed.

 

“Do not look directly at them, or you will draw even more of their attention,” the Mask Maker ordered, his voice low and monotone. “A confrontation is inevitable, but let us make it as far as we can before we must resort to speaking with them directly.”

 

“I’m going to kill Onaku when I get back,” Rassilon heard Siel – the Protector closest to him – mutter. “Go out and explore for the good of Okoto, he said. You’ll be a hero, he said.”

 

“Shut it,” Chuckles hissed. “Whine later.”

 

Siel scowled, but remained silent as requested.

 

-

 

At last, they gathered around a statue in what Rassilon could only assume was the middle of the graveyard. The statue depicted a towering figure, not unlike Kulta and Umarak in stature, and despite the wear and tear that had occurred to it through the ages, it still emanated an aura of power. The air tingled along his skin when standing next to it, and when he looked away, it seemed to glow on the edges of his vision.

 

“Annona,” Voltex murmured, sounding wistful as he stared up at the statue. “Once, we were mere Okotoans like yourselves. The Tribe of Metal. When Kulta went mad and betrayed her fellow Titans… Annona brought us all here. We were the smallest tribe on Okoto, and she knew that the wars to follow would have led to our premature extinction. She brought the Staff with her, infusing Ikir with the magic of the gods, and then used it and her own life force to bless us. It is thanks to her that we Mask Makers can never truly age, and why we can craft Masks of Power… among other things.”

 

“What happened to her?” Kuan asked.

 

“Age,” Voltex said. “To gift us our own extended lives, she had to sacrifice her own immortality, in a way. Her physical form perished two centuries into our stay on Ikir, and was buried here, with this statue built in her image. She was the first to die on Ikir, but even now, her spirit still roams, protecting the island as best as she can.”

 

Siel frowned. “This graveyard… it stretches almost as far as the eye can see in any direction. There must be hundreds – if not thousands – of graves here. If the Mask Makers were so immortal, how come there are so many graves?”

 

Voltex sighed, turning to face them. His eyes had a blueish tint to them, but were still violet. “After the storm, we fled to the only place we knew for shelter. It was there that we became Mask Makers. On Okoto, living among all of you, we were gods. But here on Ikir… we were just people much like you; with all of your passions and flaws. Before we journeyed to Okoto and lost ourselves to our pride as Mask Makers, we were merely Matoran.”

 

Behind the Mask Maker, on the other side of the statue, the fog began to swirl. Kirthaj and Chuckles both stumbled back into Rassilon, and the Jungle Protector shoved them both to the side as he stepped forward. The fog began to shift and swirl all around them, condensing into forms similar to those of Voltex and the Protectors. Twelve figures soon surrounded them, their eyes all glowed with an unearthly white light.

 

Who disturbs our slumber? The words were whispered directly into their minds, and everyone – even Voltex – flinched, unprepared.

 

Who dares to step on sacred ground? Asked another.

 

Which fools think themselves worthy? Asked a third.

 

“It is I,” Voltex said, after the silence stretched for a long moment. “Voltex, of House Stark. The Keeper of Okoto’s Lore and Histories, the First Mask Maker, last of the final Council of Twelve, the Grinder, and the Voice of Destiny. I seek safe passage to the Temple of Ma, to reclaim the Staff of Annona, and I bring six companions with me.”

 

Voltex Stark?

 

Lies. You are no Stark. You are a Snow. A Disgraced. A dishonor to your house.

 

No Snow would be allowed upon the Council of Twelve. No Snow can reclaim their old name!

 

We do not recognize your authority over the Matoran or Okoto. Your titles mean nothing, and are worthless to us. You and your companions will perish here, and will not see the Staff.

 

Die now.

 

Rassilon pulled his sword out of its sheathe and dropped into a battle stance. All around him, the others did the same, for all the good they knew it would do against the spirits of long-dead Mask Makers.

 

Voltex’s eyes flickered, from violet to sky blue to yellow and then to a familiar, gleaming red. When he spoke next, his voice was layered with a cold, distant rumble of power that sent a shiver down Rassilon’s spine.

 

“No.”

 

The spirits stilled, appearing to waver uncertainly.

 

“…what happened to your eyes?” Kirthaj asked, voice trembling.

 

“I did not escape the Battle for the Dawn unscathed,” Voltex said, still speaking in that same voice.

 

The voice of Kulta.

 

“There must always be six Titans. For one to die, another must be born in their place. The energies of the Mask of Life, along with my own telepathic ties to Kulta as I bombarded her mind using the Mask of Telepathy, awakened her powers and responsibilities within me. Out there in the mud, under the night sky, I was reborn as the Voice of Destiny.”

 

Who are you truly? One of the spirits asked.

 

He is my child, and my brother. A Matoran burdened with higher purpose.

 

In the deepest depths of his soul, Rassilon felt the presence of the new speaker. The statue of the Titan twisted in place, fixing its glowing yellow eyes down upon the group.

 

The spirit of Annona had joined them.

 

Just as I am the Voice of Duty, so he has now risen to be the Voice of Destiny. Tell me, brother, my child. What do you see?

 

Voltex’s eyes dimmed back to violet, and his voice was ragged as he whispered, “everything.”

 

And why do you seek my Staff?

 

The Mask Maker’s eyes flared back to the gleaming red, and he glared up at the stone face of Annona. “That information is meaningless to you. It is not our reasons that will determine whether we reach the Staff.”

 

You speak true, Annona acknowledged, sounding amused. Then go, brother, and lead your companions to their next challenge. Let us discover if they are truly worthy… or if you will lead them to their downfall.

 

The fog dissipated, and the spirits of Annona and the Mask Makers vanished, the air no longer stifling due to their presence. The statue of the Titan returned to its previous position, the stone creaking and crumbling. A cold breeze swept through the area, before all was still and silent. Rassilon stared at Voltex, as the Mask Maker’s eyes once more faded back to violet.

 

“We continue on,” the Mask Maker ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

 

The Protectors all exchanged glances, and for the first time, Rassilon felt an inkling of companionship even with Kuan and Kirthaj, as they all uneasily followed the Mask Maker through the tombstones again.

 

 

 

 

-GROUP TWO-

-Kaathe Maran-

Kaathe scowled as he ducked underneath another branch flung back his way by the suspiciously oblivious Hellyam. In the fading light beyond the Ice Protector, he could just barely make out Locke and Arawhata, the former using a large hunting knife to slice as many obstacles in their path as he could.

 

They had left Genakex and Quant to their fates inside the ruins, deciding not to risk it. For Kaathe, it was a calculated move; they were still on the outskirts of the island, and any traps they were likely to encounter here could most likely be escaped rather easily. While many of the others had no idea what was in store, Kaathe had many suspicions.

 

If he was correct, the entire island was a test itself, designed so that only those worthy of the treasures it hid – in this case, the Staff of Annona – could pass through. What the island was searching for in those it tested, however, he did not yet know. It was clear that entering the ruins would have been the more courageous decision, but packaged with that was the knowledge that it was also riskier, despite the threat of the night sky.

 

Whatever might come, they would reunite with Genakex and Quant in the morning – and then, Kaathe would learn what it was this island wanted from him, and he would adapt.

 

House Maran always did.

 

“I see something!” Locke called back, interrupting his thoughts. “Something big.”

 

A little more description would be lovely, Kaathe thought.

 

Seeing that both Locke and Arawhata had stopped in their tracks, Kaathe shoved his way past Hellyam to stand next to them. In the fading light, he could make out the hulking form of some sort of mechanical being. It held a vague resemblance to the Toa that Kaathe had witnessed back on Okoto, though if he had to guess at its height, he would wager it might stand at least a full head above Onua, who was the largest and tallest of the Toa.

 

Arawhata stepped closer, inspecting a word etched into the mechanical figure’s torso. “It says something here… it’s hard to make out.”

 

Kaathe glanced up at the figure’s face warily, but there were no signs of life. Still, he took a step back just to be safe, even as Locke joined Arawhata.

 

“Looks like it’s a set of runes, maybe?” the Jungle Protector guessed. “The language of the Mask Makers, I think.”

 

“Can you translate them?” Kaathe asked. “You worked alongside Lord Tekulo going over Voltex’s notes, did you not?”

 

“A little,” Locke said, frowning. “But it was mostly House Greavesy. If Siel were here it would be more accurate, but… I’m fairly certain they translate to Marendar.”

 

“Marendar?” Arawhata asked.

 

“It was their word for Guardian,” Locke said, just as the last of the light disappeared.

 

There was a groan from within the figure, and the sound of gear shifting and machinery whirring to life. Kaathe stumbled back a few more steps as a single large, red eye lit up on the figure’s face.

 

ACTIVATING. ENEMIES DETECTED.

 

“Oh,” Arawhata muttered. “F-”

 

“RUN!” Locke yelled.

 

All four Protectors dove to the sides as a massive foot slammed down where they had been standing a second before. Kaathe scrambled to his feet and shoved Hellyam away as he ducked underneath a massive sword before bolting, the others at his heels. He made it all of ten feet before being blasted off of his feet by a concussive blast of pure sound. Kaathe landed face-first in the ground before tumbling and rolling into a tree. He slumped against it, dazed, and a small part of him realized that they had reached the other side of the ruins.

 

Genakex and Quant were nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

 

Locke was pulling at his arm, yelling something, but Kaathe couldn’t hear anything beyond the ringing of his ears. Gripping Locke’s hand, he pulled himself up just in time to see Hellyam go flying past them. The Ice Protector slammed into a stone pillar and spun off of it into a tree before sliding to the ground, his armor fractured in multiple locations.

 

Perhaps I underestimated the island just a bit, he thought.

 

With Hellyam out for the count, Kaathe and Locke both drew their swords, even knowing that they would be useless against the Guardian.

 

DESTROY THE UNWORTHY.

 

The Guardian swung its massive sword down on them and they both swung their swords to clash with it. The weight of the blow was staggering, and Kaathe felt his muscles scream from the exertion as Locke crumpled to the ground. Unable to hold it off any longer, Kaathe released his sword and lunged to the side, narrowly avoiding the sword’s blade, while its hilt slammed into Locke as he tried to stand back up.

 

Kaathe pulled himself back to his feet using a nearby tree and turned to face the Guardian. Arawhata was nowhere to be seen, and both Locke and Hellyam were feebly stirring.

 

As a mighty fist swung towards him, Kaathe closed his eyes.

 

As Strong as Stone.

 

 

 

 

-GROUP ONE-

-Rassilon Boscage-

They had stopped at a branch in the path, after exiting the graveyard. A signpost pointed to two different locations, which Voltex had translated for them.

 

To their left was Roxtus, the ancient stronghold of House Monger. It was a massive, labryinthian fortress built into the side of the Great Volcano on the west side of the island, and Voltex claimed that it had once been guarded by a fearsome Kardas Dragon.

 

To their right was Mangai, the ancient stronghold of House Potter. It was supposed to be smaller, more akin to a village up above, but held an enormous cave system underneath, from which House Potter had once mined many mystical materials. The caves, Voltex suspected, would contain many threats, among them giant Fenrakk spiders, illusions and nightmares given physical forms, and – if they were really unlucky – a Tahtorak or two.

 

“Make your choice,” the Mask Maker said, sounding tired.

 

Group One: Questions for Voltex:

OPTION A: Ask Voltex about the disgrace that caused him to be exiled from his house and forced to take on the surname of Snow.

OPTION B: Ask Voltex about his new role as the Voice of Destiny. Umarak is missing, and the Lord of Skull Spiders – a Titan themselves, if rumors following the Battle for Dawn were true – was a Titan as well. Are there other new voices?

>>NOTE: Voltex will only answer the correct option. This is decided by majority vote.

 

Group One: The Two Strongholds:

OPTION A: Travel to Roxtus, stronghold of House Monger.

OPTION B: Travel to Mangai, stronghold of House Potter.

 

 

 

 

-GROUP TWO-

-Genakex Ikhav-

Upon stepping outside of the ruins with Quant, Genakex frowned as a fog seemed to fall over his mind. Try as he might, he could not recall what had occurred inside the ruins, beyond meeting a deranged Mask Maker named Kota, who had been left behind on the island over a thousand years before.

 

A strange warning resonated in his mind, however. Its words drifted and faded without meaning, but he could recall three in particular: beware the Dreamer.

 

Quant nudged him. “I can’t remember anything.”

 

He shook his head. “Neither can I. Just a warning.”

 

“Can we trust it, though?” Quant asked. “That Mask Maker… he was clearly deranged.”

 

Genakex frowned, and was about to respond when he spotted a figure slumped against a tree nearby – Kaathe Maran. He raced over, kneeling next to the Protector of Stone. Quant followed him, looking worried.

 

“Is he dead?”

 

Genakex shook his head, feeling the Protector’s pulse. “No, just knocked out.”

 

He chose unwisely.

 

Both Protectors startled at the voice and presence in their minds. It wrapped around them, twisting and turning and poking into every crevasse with a faint air of amusement.

 

You believe you should beware me?

 

Genakex swallowed. “…are you the Dreamer?”

 

I have dreamed many dreams, but don’t then, don’t we all? But yes, Okotoan. I was once called such a thing.

 

“Kota warned us about you,” he said.

 

Kota is a mad dog without a leash. He is nothing, and you know nothing. You seek my Staff, Okotoan. Very well. Follow your path northwards, and you will find yourself with two choices. You can turn east, and visit the Temple of Destruction… or, you can continue north, and face the Black Spike Mountains.

 

Next to Genakex, Quant rubbed his tremblinghands together. “Where do you believe we should go?”

 

Your safest route is through the Black Spike Mountains, and that is where Kota would send you, said the Presence. But if you wish to prove yourselves worthy of my Staff… you will visit the Temple of Destruction, and face my Guardian.

 

The Presence vanished from their minds, and they exchanged uneasy looks.

 

“What do we do?” Quant asked.

 

“First, we wake everyone up and share our options,” Genakex said. “Then, we’ll vote on the next Torchbearer, and choose our paths.”

 

Group Two: Torchbearer:

OPTION A: Kaathe

OPTION B: Quant

OPTION C: Locke

OPTION D: Hellyam

OPTION E: Arawhata

>>This is decided by majority vote. In the case of a tie, I’ll flip a coin.

 

Group Two: An Issue of Trust:

OPTION A: Trust the Mad Mask Maker Kota and take the safer path through the Black Spike Mountains.

OPTION B: Trust the sinister Titan Annona and take the path to the Temple of Destruction, where you must fight the Guardian Marendar.

 

NOTE: Kaathe, Locke, Hellyam, and Arawhata are all on their last channce (Hellyam because he didn’t make his pick in time).

 

MAKE YOUR CHOICES NOW – YOU HAVE 24 HOURS TO DECIDE!!

 

END EPISODE 02.

Edited by Voltex
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You know, my gut told me to go into the ruins. But I didn't listen to it. This time, I will listen. I'm choosing option 2 and going to the temple of destruction.

 

As for Torchbearer, my vote goes to Quant. 

Everyone is one choice away from being the bad guy in another person's story.


 


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Bb.

Unless I change my mind and want to vote for someone else as torchbearer.

 

Edit: I should make this clear that Bb means I voted Options B and B, not a theoretical option B Flat on just one. =P

Edited by Rahkshi Guurahk

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Question B.

 

As for our options... hmm, while there is a Kardas Dragon in Roxtus, it's just one Kardas Dragon. In Mangai, there's a cave system with Fenrakk Spiders and other horrors and a Tahtorak or two. A Tahtorak can go toe-to-toe with a Kardas Dragon.

 

A cave system is just as likely to be labyrinthine as a labyrinth, so... Option A. A Kardas Dragon in a labyrinth is one thing, a whole host of terrors in a cave system  where visibility will likely be reduced is on a whole other level. 

On Bota Magna, everything is about to fall apart.


 

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I vote Quant to receive the torch.

 

As for which path...well, on one hand I feel like I should believe Kota, but on the other, hearing a path is "safe" is suspicious in and of itself...hm.  Of course, the Dreamer is the one saying it's safe, so that could be the lie we're not supposed to believe?  Ah to heck with it, "Temple of Destruction" sounds cool so I'll head there.

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Hmm... I'm not a fan of giving the torch to someone who still has two chances at survival. Feels like such a waste as numbers is what really matters in the end. As such I'm voting for Arawhata to be torchbearer

 

As for the path I take... I'm not sure I would trust mask maker who has been in solitude for so many centuries and whom would likely be spiteful at having been left behind. Though he's also managed to survive the hardships of this island all this time, which must lend some credence to he knows what he's doing. But to be fair, it wasn't the mask maker who suggested we go to the black spike, but Annona saying it's where he would like suggest... but he did not suggest it.

 

But having an easier time claiming the staff would be nice, but we've fought marendar already. We have no mask maker on our side to invoke some gibberish, and save our behinds, as even with our numbers there is very likely no way we can defeat such a beast. We are but Okotians with no masks of power, and no abilities of our own. But our only bet of beating such a creature would be a well thought out plan, and numbers.

 

Going with option B, as much as I really don't want to.

Edited by Vox

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Hmm... I'm not a fan of giving the torch to someone who still has two chances at survival. Feels like such a waste as numbers is what really matters in the end. As such I'm voting for Arawhata to be torchbearer

 

You know what that's probably a better idea, so I'll change my vote to Arawhata.

Edited by Rahkshi Guurahk
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-Rahkshi Guurahk
GENERATION 3: The first time you see this, copy it into your sig on any forum and add 1 to the generation. Social experiment.
If I actually tried putting all the stuff I like on here, the sig would burst.

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one more day for the final person to make their choice before i begin writing the scene

 

it'll probably be delayed again because i'm recovering from wisdom teeth removal and once i'm done with that it's back to either working or partying the summer away

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  • 3 weeks later...

Did anyone else forget this was a thing?

 

I did. :P

I did too. =P

-Rahkshi Guurahk
GENERATION 3: The first time you see this, copy it into your sig on any forum and add 1 to the generation. Social experiment.
If I actually tried putting all the stuff I like on here, the sig would burst.

d1O9dXQ.png

 

(This banner is created by http://www.bzpower.com/board/user/59020-onaku/ )

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  • 2 weeks later...
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