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Six Kingdoms: Escapement - Gameplay

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IC: Vashni - Onu-Metru -

1 hour ago, King of Kings said:

"I have to confess, then: I'm a fool after all."

I could have told you that. Vashni thought briefly, but she kept that to herself. "That works for me. I'm interested in learning more about the Toa Mangai myself, for different reasons though." 



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1 hour ago, Nato the Traveler said:

IC: Vyarik - Onu-Metru (near Nuparu's workshop)

"My name is Vyarik. I never bothered with a code name."

IC: Thom - Onu-Metru (Near Nuparu's place)

Thom blinked, though with the eyepatch it looked more like a straight faced wink. "Ah assumed they gave yer one. Didn't realise you had to come up with one."

He span a smoke canister in his left hand, idly. "Well, Thom works just ahright."

 


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IC: Thom - Onu-Metru (Bonding with a buddy)

The Ko-Skakdi chortled at this, a rather ugly sound not unlike a coughing plague victim.

"Yeah? Wot they give ya? 'Mr Shrinky'?" He laughed at his own joke, rubbing his eye under his eyepatch again.

He wasn't used to being paired up like this, and Thom was enjoying it so far.


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IC: Vyarik - Onu Metru (eagerly awaiting Nuparu's funeral)

"It doesn't matter," he growled, his tone making it clear he didn't want to discuss it further.


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IC: Thom - Onu-Metru (Understanding the importance of rejection)

Thom snickered, pulling the smoke canister back under the cloak and checking his watch.

"Wish his mate'd shove off ahready."


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IC: Vyarik - Onu-Metru (itchy stabbing hand)

"Indeed." The longer they lingered here, the greater the likelihood they would incite suspicion. 


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16 hours ago, Smudge8 said:

Mazor uncerimoniously sat down next to Irna. He pulled out his specially built Kanoka launcher and began to clean it meticulously with a cloth. 

IC:

Irna glanced over at the newcome-- gah! What was wrong with his skin?! 

"Excuse me, sir," she said quietly, "but do you require medical assistance?"

-Void


 
 

 

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IC: Nuparu, Nuparu’s Workshop, Onu-Metru

“Oh, you mean Papa Podu’s Po-Metru Pizzeria.” Nuparu chuckled. “I admit I indulge in more than a healthy amount of it when I’m designing on a deadline. It’s been nice to talk with a fellow inventor after my day. Let me change out of these robes. It’ll only be a minute.”

He disappeared through a door in the back of the workshop, leaving Knichou to his own devices. Nuparu returned shortly wearing soft wool archivist robes in black and grey.The two tone colors of his outfit made the purple of his pakari pop. 

“It’s just around the corner,” Nuparu explained as he led them out onto the bustling walkway and locked the workshop behind them. The walkways bordered a busy street full of hoverbikes and ussal cart peddlers. Blocks of solid protodermis and live rahi were carted about by working matoran. A white skakdi was talking with a matoran. They were tucked near the entrance to an alley between two shops with glowing neon lights above the doors of business. Nuparu noticed the skakdi, felt a flutter of concern about seeing a skakdi during wartime, then reminded himself that not all skakdi were the enemy. He looked away ashamed and began talking with Nuparu to take his mind off it as they walked through the crowd towards Papa Podu’s Pe-Metru Pizzeria.

“If it’s not painful, could you tell me of the beauty of your island? I’ve heard the legends all matoran hear, of course, but what is it like to live in paradise?”

OOC: Dark Hunters, that's the guy! Take the shot before he gets away!

IC: Brutaka, Island Outpost, Silver Sea

“You are too kind, Iona,” Brutaka replied after a moment of silence. He weighed her words carefully, considering what hid behind her casual air. “You’re right, there are good people and bad people, but it’s not as simple as that. Every cause is just in the eyes of the believer, but some believers lead themselves astray. Our enemy believes they are not given their fair share. They believe the matoran are too weak to truly be the chosen people of this world. There are many other beings besides matoran in this world who feel similarly, and now they bind themselves to the League in hopes of creating their great eutopia of equality. Since Metru-Nui and its allies refused their diplomatic dealings and treaties they build their eutopia with war. The Great Spirit ordained the matoran as the keepers and protectors of the land and sea. Your people are the chosen ones. Those who believe in the words of the Great Spirit can only see that as finite truth. The League’s cause is blasphemy, challenging the word and order of the Great Spirit. Every day they transgress further from Mata-Nui’s light.”

Brutaka picked up a large rock from the beach. He tossed it in his palm, judging the weight, then cast it into the sea. It skipped off into the horizon. “The Order of Mata-Nui follows the teachings of the Great Spirit, and preserves the delicate balance. I believe you have it in you to follow those teachings, and help lead others on the correct path.”

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IC: Thom - Onu-Metru ("Every gun makes its own tune.")

(Recommended listening)

Thom had just looked up from his watch, when the workshop door had finally cracked open.

The cogs in his brain span out of control, as he activated his ability. Everything seemed to grind to a halt, the noises and people talking slurred to incomprehensible lengths, but Thom's thoughts were racing.

His gun was, by his last reload, loaded with a single laser charge, which could fire three shots, with about two seconds inbetween for brief cooling. The Ko-Skakdi's cranium chugged as he tried to calculate how much time he had.

He could see, as Nuparu turned in slow time, lips mouthing words he didn't care to understand to his fellow Matoran, that the inventor had indeed spotted him, but seemingly not paid him much mind at all. At least, that was what he figured.

Thom grinded his teeth. He reckoned he had about a single shot to get this right, maybe a second if he could properly aim whilst in retreat. He could freely admit to just about anyone that even for him, firing a laser in motion was very difficult, though.

The facts slammed together into his head, fusing and melding into a single action.

Click.

Slow-time had ended, his weapon had been cocked in his cloak and was out, and primed to blast Nuparu in the head.

"Bang." He smirked, pulling the trigger.

OOC: Thom is firing a laser blast at Nuparu, his target.

 

 

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IC: 

Something wet splattered against Knichou's face. Bits of inorganic material cut across his armor. Nuparu's face was gone. 

His body spasmed, twisting with the heat of the laser.  His arm stretched out to grab Knichou's hand, his knees buckled. 

His last words to his fellow inventor: "there's not enough time-"

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IC: Vyarik - Onu-Metru (Boom, headshot)

"Efficient," he chuckled, before doing exactly what all of the other hapless, terrified Matoran would do in the moment - he broke and ran.

Hopefully Thom would have the good sense to do the same before the authorities caught on.

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On 1/17/2020 at 1:58 AM, Keeper of Kraata said:

IC: Skorm, Silver Sea

"Mistakes, yes, but I don't expect them to make errors." Skorm sighed. "Something else is at play, I think. But it is our duty to investigate the wreck, and so we shall."

The Twi-Toa finished tinkering with his gauntlet and looked the Vo-Toa up and down. "... Varxii, am I correct?" Skorm's duties required keeping tabs on any toa in the armies of the League. He recalled that the Vo-Toa had initially resisted the League of Six, but had proven herself loyal. An impressive fighter, at the very least. Useful to have on their side if his suspicions about the wreck held true.

"My name is Skorm. I am sworn to Lord Takadox, but I serve the League as a whole."

IC: Varxii - Silver Sea Island

Mistakes, errors... was there a difference?

The Kiril-wearing Toa frowned, but didn't comment. She supposed, with a few moments' thought, she could see what he was getting at; if anyone could make a mistake, but an error was something more careless, more long-lasting, something that you felt the effects of for a long time after... right? At least, that was how she figured it.

If something had gone wrong with the Nynrah vessel's navigation systems, as Carapar had said... by that reasoning, if it had been a mistake, they could just have course-corrected and been on their way. Since the ship had gone down, that was a rather more permanent state of affairs; therefore, by her tenuous logic, an error. Varxii scratched her neck, puzzling through this line of thought to try and figure out where it was leading.

Her companion seemed to be suggesting that foul play had been at work in the vessel's untimely demise. While certainly possible - the universe was wide, and had no shortage of beings who'd love to get their hands on some Nynrah tech - the fact that said tech was reportedly still in the wreckage implied that theft hadn't been the intent here. Or, perhaps, that the League itself was responsible for the vessel's crash.

"Guess the only way to know is to poke around when we get there," she suggested, a slight shrug rolling her shoulders.

Her other question, of course, was did it matter; but even if Varxii didn't have much check on her self-assurance, she did know when to hold her tongue.

"I... yeah, that's me. I've got a reputation already, huh?"

At least, she assumed that was it. Probably, said reputation was as the foolish girl who'd got herself beaten almost to a pulp before being forcibly signed on to the army; but Varxii could imagine, at least, that it was for her skill at holding out for as long as she did that her name was known, rather than the other side of that incident. Still, her grin was a touch sheepish... in all honesty, she wasn't used to actual attention. Back on her island, her former fellow villagers had been reservedly grateful to her when she did something big like stop a pirate raid or something, but had still been overall distant and disapproving of her. This kind of thing was... new.

Did she like it? Varxii wasn't sure?

As for her companion?

"Skorm... well, pleased to meet you. Though I've gotta say, this is the last place I'd expect to find another Toa."

Again, that slight shrug.

"I'm under Pridak, myself; but you sound like you already know that story."

She glanced sideways for a moment, catching sight of the other being - that couldn't really be a Zyglak, could it? - who had for a while seemed to be listening in on their conversation; but otherwise, paid her no mind. She'd join in if she wanted to, Varxii was sure; and if not, listening wasn't doing anyone any harm.

Edited by Darth Jaller

(Formerly Darth Jaller)

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"New legends awake, but old lessons must be remembered.
For that is the way
of the BIONICLE."

---

Skyrise bios: Tarutu, Kastir, Littiuu, Alarei / Six Kingdoms bios: Varxii, Rek

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IC Stannis | Onu-Metru streets near Nuparu's shop

Stannis backtracked from where he came, searching for... something. His senses had been tripped and it couldn't have been for nothing. It was never for nothing. The feeling he had of danger being nearby did not fade and still compelled him to linger, so he meandered up the street in a loose zigzag, eyes scanning the ground but looking up whenever he felt someone else in his peripherals. Each time he mentally noted what his mask was telling him. Blue. Grey. Grey. Blue. Grey. Time was essential, too—if he didn't figure out if there was a threat soon his mask would stop giving him information; the Mask of Conjuring only maintained a programmed power for fifteen minutes. 

"Old toa-hero, are you looking for something?" a passerby asked. 

Grey. "Yes, yes, I think I dropped a manuscript. A valuable one. I felt it fall from my pack."

"Oh that sucks. Do you have an idea where?" he asked.

Turning blue. "Just somewhere along the street. I fear someone may have picked it up already, though. But it's okay, I don't need help," he said. 

"Okay. Good luck, old toa-hero."

Old toa-hero, he echoed under his breath once the Matoran was out of earshot. It was true but that didn't mean he liked to be reminded of it, and in his mind he was still an active, strong warrior, every bit the toa he was a thousand centuries before. Movement to the left caught his attention and he witnessed a pair of Matoran—grey and blue— coming out from a workshop and chatting amicably. He thought he maybe recognized the One-Matoran, but over time so many faces blended together and it was hard for him to focus enough to really remember one from a crowd. The other, though, curiously looked like a Fe-Matoran, a rare sight outside of Nynrah. They walked in the same direction as him though were a little faster since they traveled a straighter line, and he paid no further heed to them once they were several yards ahead. He kept looking around. 

Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of something—an outstretched arm, an exposed ankle—that flashed crimson to his mind from across the street, hidden behind an alcove in an alley. Stannis was too late, though, and failed to clearly understand what was happening before it was too late. Before Stannis could draw out a spear and approach the villain he heard the telltale pew of a laser shot. 

The One-Matoran's head turned to slag, the Fe-Matoran turned blue in his minds eye, and the street exploded with chaos as other city folk, a wash of panicked grey figures, ran away in every direction. Without having more information to go off of, Stannis hefted a spear from his back and raced to where he saw the red aura and began to pursue who he believed was behind the assassination. 

Edited by EmperorWhenua
Misunderstood something, my bad.

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IC: Vyarik - Onu-Metru

As he neared a bend in the street, Vyarik momentarily glanced back over his shoulder, checking to make sure the skakdi had made himself scarce. What he saw instead filled him with equal parts trepidation and anticipation: a being that could only be a Toa, in hot pursuit. 

He didn't entirely understand how the Toa had singled him out.

He didn't really care. 

This was a challenge worthy of his time. 

He continued around the corner, backing a little further into the street as he drew one of his blades and settled into a defensive stance. 


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IC Stannis | Onu-Metru

The old toa did not run fast but his footsteps were sure, trading speed for stability. Stannis passed a few more matoran who scattered out of his way as he approached the side street he saw the purported assassin duck into and carefully wielded his spear like a staff weapon to parry melee blows that almost were guaranteed to happen in these close quarters. 

He rounded the corner, then paused. A being shrouded in red was there, seemingly lying in wait... for him. "Hello. Dark Hunter, I presume?" he said, hiding any sign of surprise. 


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IC: Mazor

Mazor left out a raspy chuckle, "No, I'm just undead."" He said, still focused on cleaning his weapon. "Never thought I'd meet a zyglek concerned for someone's health."

 

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I have control of an element you would never expect...

SURPRISE!

 

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IC: Iona [Silver Sea Island Beach]

Iona gaze followed the stone's path out to sea as it skipped across the silvery protodermis. She was, for a moment, at a loss for words. It was a lot to take in, her mind raced as Brutaka spoke.

"Oh."

Iona stopped, not abruptly so much as lost in thought. Things were beginning to make more sense now, pieces falling together in place. Her struggles against the League suddenly felt much... smaller. Just one piece in a larger fight against the tyranical rulers. Forces at play that she hardly ever fathomed before.

"You're a member of this Order of Mata Nui," It wasn't a question, more of an observation on her part. "And you want me to... join this Order? How does that work? I'm not sure if I can leave, I'm needed here."

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Where to Iggy?

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IC: Knichou, Onu-Metru Undercity Streets

“If it’s not painful, could you tell me of the beauty of your island? I’ve heard the legends all matoran hear, of course, but what is it like to live in paradise?” the Onu-Matoran asked.

"Well, a lot of those stories are slightly exaggera-"

Knichou's sentence was cut short as he turned towards Nuparu to see his mask melt to slag in front of his eyes. For a brief second, Knichou felt the burning heat of the air between them and saw the intense glowing of Nuparu's mask. Knichou's Adaptive armor immediately reacted, increasing insulation and tinting the eyeholes of his mask to protect his eyes from the intensely bright flash. Knichou wished it hadn't. He wished the light had overwhelmed his senses and caused him to squint. Instead, he could only watch and listen as the matoran he just met liquefied in front of him. It may have only been a split-second but it felt like an eternity. There was no background, no big picture, only a thousand unforgettable details assaulting his senses at once.

Nuparu's knee's buckled and his hand clenched on to Knichou's arm with a ferocious and desperate intensity. Knichou dropped to his knees to catch and support Nuparu. The two inventors locked eyes in horror as Nuparu struggled to breath his last words.

"There's not enough time-"

Then the Onu-Matoran's eyes cracked and burst into flames. His jaw opening to say the next word suddenly dropping fully. The grip Nuparu had on Knichou's arm, a split second ago as sharp as a muaka's bite, was now limp. His mask was no longer a bright purple, purple, only a white-orange glow distorted by the flowing haze of superheated air and the oozing smoke of vaporized paint and dirt. Through the intense tinting of Knichou's kakama's lenses, everything else looked like it was in darkness. The burning face etched itself forever in Knichou's memory.

Knichou glanced at the engineer's heartlight. Dark. Nuparu was truly gone, after just a matter of moments. Knichou carefully lowered the engineer's smouldering corpse to the street, and stood up. His armor shifted back to normal, the insulation and tint no longer necessary. Well, his armor wasn't fully back to normal. Instead of white and grey, his armor now had spots of ash, soot and blood. His mask no longer purple, but purple with an uneven, misty coat of blood red, like if his kanohi was in a freak tie-dye accident.

Knichou could do nothing to save Nuparu, but his murderer must be around somewhere. A Toa of stone rushed across the courtyard in the direction of the blast, spear in hand. Knichou took his lightstone rifle out of his backpack and sprinted some ways behind Stannis. Because his lightstone rifle charged its projectiles too slow to charge them effectively in combat, Knichou kept his lightstone rifle charged at all times, so the projectiles in the chamber and the magazine were visibly crackling with energy and glowing brighter than usual. While perhaps not the most subtle way of carrying it, his adaptive armor insulated the rifle from other objects in his backpack so it was safer and less awkward to carry that way in everyday settings. There's a reason dark hunters rarely use these - it's a lot harder to be stealthy when your gun is glowing the whole time.

Edited by BULiK
Edited to reflect that the rifle and all it's ammunition was charged
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IC: Thom - Onu-Metru ("I'm out of here!")

The Skakdi's pearly whites shaped into a satisfied, smug grin as Nuparu hit the deck, face alight. 

His eye, however, was almost immediately diverted to an approaching figure. A Toa.

A karzing Toa. 

Thom covered his revolver back into his cloak, praying to Mata Nui that the apparent Toa of Stone hadn't spotted him. At this distance, he'd be absolute mincemeat for the upjumped vigilante.

But, to his absolute delight, Stannis' attention was not one bit focused on the Skakdi. 

"You karzin' idiot." He quietly laughed to himself, as the Toa rushed at his partner behind him, who had quite wisely made a retreat from the scene. The pipsqueak that had accompanied the chief engineer followed, grasping a lightstone rifle. 

Thom couldn't help but admire the Fe-Matoran's gear, in spite of everything.

The Ko-Skakdi hastily fast-walked the opposite direction away from the scene, cloak pulled tight as he looked for a nearby alleyway to disappear down, periodically checking his watch.

 

Edited by Dane
clarification on direction

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IC, Atamai: Onu-Metru

I rolled my eyes. Of course you’re going after the Disks, you really weren’t fooling anyone. 

Wordlessly I led the group to the Archives entrance. As we walked in one of the Matoran working the front desks looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Tour group,” I said while gesturing back to my companions. The Matoran nodded and waved us through. 

We made a left into a long hallway. “Okay, all the informational stuff is in the big room down there. There’s plenty of computer terminals to use to access the information contained in our collections. All info on the Mangai we have will be found there.”


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IC: Vyarik - Onu-Metru.

Smiling, the Dark Hunter activated his Kanoka Blade and pointed it forward to meet the incoming block of stone.

A red glow began to emanate from the lightstone in the hilt as the armguard slid into place and the power of a Crast was channeled through the weapon.

The stone only made the barest of contact with the blade before being violently repelled by its power, spinning aside to cascade against the wall of a nearby building.

"Straight to the point. I like that," he drew and activated his second blade, though he did not yet move to attack, "The Hunters could use a being with your conviction."


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IC Stannis | Onu-Metru

"On the contrary, the Hunters have been trying to do without me for a looong time," Stannis said.

Stannis' damnably grey eyes drank in this man and he frowned. This Dark Hunter was not fitting the bill. He knew this species, they could use Kanohi, but they didn't have vision powers and this was not a mask of laser vision, and this being did not have a ranged weapon. And, Stannis knew, Hunters often worked in pairs. 

"You're not the one who murdered the Matoran," he said, somewhat disgruntled. "But you did surround yourself with my element.

He put his focus on the large heap of stone that had been casually cast to the side by the Hunter's weapons and animated the rubble into a swarm of flinging rocks that threatened to assault Vyarik from every direction, each one no larger than a fist but carrying twice as much force. 


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IC: Knichou, Onu-Metru Undercity Streets

Knichou sprinted several meters behind the Toa of Stone. The matoran hadn't seen who took the shot, but he knew it wasn't this Toa (Why chase someone else with a spear if you have a face-melting laser gun?) and this Toa probably saw whoever was the perp. Knichou was still on his way but over his heavy breathing he heard the Toa begin to converse with the other being around the end of the block.

"Hello. Dark Hunter, I presume?"

Knichou was getting closer to the voices but he still had to concentrate to single them out from the noises of the city streets.

"You presume correctly, Toa. I suppose this is the part where you demand my surrender?"

So this is a dark hunter plot, Knichou thought while continuing to run towards the controntation.

"No"

Knichou switched the safety off his lightstone rifle as he was just a few meters away from the entrance to the alleyway Stannis and Vyarik were at.

Almost there, time for some payba-

Knichou's train of thought was rudely interrupted when a strange being barreled into him, sweeping him off his feet and sending him tumbling across the street. Knichou was too concentrated on what was going on up ahead he hadn't even considered that another dark hunter would attack him from behind. Apparently this dark hunter was trying to grapple Knichou, but grabbing someone at full sprint was not the easiest of maneuvers, and Knichou's inertia had a different plan.

A shot echoed throughout the street. Knichou's lightstone rifle had prematurely fired during the fall - he was no combat veteran, and 'getting tackled by a dark hunter' was not something he spent time practicing at the firing range back home. A lightstone crackling bright with electricity flew up towards the ceiling of the cave structure, bursting against it into a colorful display of crystalline shards that slowly fell back to the streets. Well, at least that waste of a shot probably got the Vahki's attention.

Knichou was dazed for a moment as he turned his head to see his foe. One ugly son of a muaka. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't any species Knichou had read about. All the more reason to let some poor archivist figure that out with an autopsy.

Four shots left, better make them count.

Knichou sat up, took aim with his lightstone rifle, and fired another shot at the strange beast.

Edited by BULiK
Spelling, whoops

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IC: Vyarik - Onu-Metru.

With rubble pelting him from every direction, Vyarik shrunk down as small as his mask would allow - making himself a harder target - then slammed both blades against the ground to repel himself backwards - putting some further distance between himself and the Toa.

"You're right. I didn't kill the Matoran!" He hollered, tentatively returning to a Matoran size. "I haven't killed anyone since arriving in this city, so how about you back off and mind your own business... before I'm forced to change that."

He knew the Toa wouldn't back down, but Vyarik felt compelled to at least offer him the option.

It was the honourable thing to do.


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IC Kilo-M9 – Onu-Metru, Archives first level:

Target detected. Identifying...

Identification verified: Ice bats.

Scanning... No archives tags detected. Conclusion: Targets are not exhibit specimens.

New objective: Seek and eliminate.

***

Today had truly been an exceptionally boring one. The archivist manning some of the research stations was used to slow days. While research into the past was certainly important, it was not something people came to do in the archives much anymore. Nowadays everyone was busy using their iStones for information, glued to the glowing screens. Not too long ago he was reading stone tablets using just a lightstone! The gall of the youth. Even now where once the research section had been bustling with researchers analyzing artifacts and comparing notes to each other there was only the silent musing of patrons looking through the digitized reading material. And so the archivist’s role had been merely reduced to tech support and telling people where they’d likely find the information they were looking for. What a fall from grace.

This afternoon had become exceptionally boring as the news from the turaga had sent everyone running in search of discs. What few patrons there had been looking up information had all scattered with glee at the idea of being a toa. Like being a toa was anything special. Back in his day, the archives were hand constructed, each tunnel dug out with pickaxes. Then drills came, and workers started losing shifts due to the increased efficiency. Sure, they eventually added more shifts to expand the archives even more, but if your muscles didn’t hurt after a day’s work, was it really working?

His musings were interrupted by a loud series of screeches. He paid it no mind, until the screeching became louder, and louder. Out from a side tunnel, a small flock of ice bats emerged. His first instinct was to yell at them to not damage the research consoles, but as he approached they turned as one to stare at him. They were quite large for ice bats, and they looked hungry.

He ran down one of the maintenance tunnels in a foolish attempt to escape. What head start he had was rapidly shrinking as their faster flight let them gain ground. Once he reached a fork in the tunnel, his indecisiveness cost him. Sharp talons crashed into his back, sending him tumbling onto his back. He slowly tried to back into one of the side passages, batting teeth and claws away, but he knew there was no holding them back for long. The largest one of all was readying a charge, and the archivist knew he wouldn’t be able to block it. He covered his head with his hands as he waited for the end.

The end did not come, much to his surprise. A few moments after he had expected to die, he took a peek at what had changed. The lead ice bat was encased in some sort of bubble, chattering angrily. Its fellow ice bats were staring past the matoran at something behind him. He heard clockwork motors and plodding heavy footsteps behind him. The Vahki were here to rescue him! He turned back to look at his mechanical saviors. Out of the darkness, red eyes aglow, came a scorpion-like machine, blades drawn, tip of its tail still smoking from the initial blast.

Not a Vahki.

The archivist curled into a fetal position as the Kralhi charged. The machine stepped over him to directly engage the bats, who had come to grips with their fellow’s imprisonment and resumed their aggression. The first bat to charge was neatly bisected down the middle with precision only a machine could have. Half an ice bat landed next to the archivist, the visceral image settling into his future nightmares. The second ice bat was a bit smarter, dodging the first few strikes of the mechanical enforcer. A third bat lunched itself brazenly at the robot’s head, latching onto one of its red eyes. Animal and machine struggled with each other, the bat managing to pull the ocular receptor out of its socket before being impaled on the blade of the robot. The second ice bat, trying to take advantage of the robot’s damaged state, charged once more. It was for naught as the machine recovered its bearings removing one of the bat’s wings. The pest fidgeted on the ground in pain until it was promptly silenced by a mechanical foot crushing it underneath.

The tunnel was silent aside from the whirring of clockwork components and the frenzy of the largest bat, still encased in the bubble. The pace of its cries slowed and it slowly passed out, the bubble encasing it dispersing and letting the body flop to the ground. The archivist stared at his savior, its eyes now an unfeeling green. The machine reached into a compartment on its side, removing a kanoka disc of some variety. With one hand it pushed its damaged eye back into place while the other hand tapped the disc to the damaged components. Regenerating energy flowed from the disc into the socket, and the eye was returned to its undamaged state. The robot turned to the matoran, returning the disc to the side compartment. It extend a blade towards him and then pointed down the tunnel he had originally run from. Back to his work station.

The archivist took some time to find his voice. The words that came out were shaky and lack any confidence. “I’m not s-sure if I can resume my work at this point, K-Kralhi. That encounter was quite terrifying, and I’m no long in a good head space. P-perhaps I can-“

The Kralhi pointed again at the matoran and back to his work station. It was a slower and more deliberate motion. The blank stare of the machine had not changed, but the intent on its movements was clear. The archivist pondered his options. Past the Kralhi was a tunnel which lead to a more active part of the archives. Vahki were there. Maybe they’d be understanding if he told them about the Kralhi. There wasn’t much chance, but if he dodged the tail blasts he might be able to make it. It was his only chance. He ran past the machine down the tunnel. The only thing that turned to watch him go was the tail of the machine. It fired only once.

The archivist would be returned to his work station, whether he liked it or not.

***

Objectives completed. Ice bats have been neutralized. Citizen has been returned to work.

Ocular receptor repairs completed. Low power regeneration disc energy at 46%. Replacement will be needed soon.

Analyzing archives data-banks for likely Great Disc locations. Storing data.

Proceeding to next location.

OOC: Just leaving an unconscious matoran for the tour group to find. I suppose there's also a large sleeping ice bat nearby as well.

Edited by pokemonlover360
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I am pokemonlover360, master of hardly ever posting. You might know me from the many posts that I haven't made.
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OOC: thank you for the present

IC: Jutori - Archives

Finally inside. I gave a nod to the Matoran at the front desk out of courtesy and turned to Tallea, adjusting my eyeline to meet hers after briefly forgetting about her power armor. I gestured to the room ahead.

"After you."


IC: Nale Vella - Onu-Metru rooftop

Nale sat on the edge of a rooftop, her rifle resting beside her, and watched as Matoran went about their day in the streets below. She had mostly shut out Dume's message--it really didn't concern her. The Mangai being imprisoned wouldn't change her job, and she was the last person who needed Toa power. She would continue to be a sentry over the island, whether it had a team of its own to protect it or not.

However, something caught her attention from an adjacent street below: a scuffle. Her eyes traced the action backwards, to see the crumpled heap of a Matoran, smoke rising from a melted down Kanohi that may have been a Pakari once. She grimaced at the sight, and quickly surmised the likely culprit who was currently facing off with a Toa of Stone, judging by color. Before she made her move, however, she noticed something else: another figure walking in the opposite direction of the very much dead Matoran, seemingly nonplussed about the whole thing.

Getting to her feet she slung the rifle over her shoulder and began climbing down, stopping halfway to jump off the side of the building and land in a crowd of panicking Matoran, all trying to push past her. She activated her Kakama and in a flash was standing in front of the cloaked figure, who she now could see was a Skakdi.


"What's going on here?" Her hand was already hovering above her knife's sheath.

OOC: hi dane

Edited by King of Kings
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IC Stannis | Onu-Metru

Stannis, against the impulses of most other toa-heroes, lowered his spear and held it as a staff then, indicating his disengagement. He knew it would be a waste to continue the battle with this Hunter but there was still an opportunity to get information, and for a chronicler like him that was more important. "Tell me what you know about the mission and the Hunter who killed the matoran, then I won't give you chase.

Edited by EmperorWhenua

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IC: Vyarik - Onu-Metru

"I- wait-" Vyarik's facade shattered for a moment as he sputtered in confusion. He hadn't been expecting the Toa to actually agree with him. They didn't normally do that.

He paused to clear his throat and refocus, before speaking again, deciding to humour the Toa a little further. He was curious to see how this situation played out.

"The mission was to kill the Matoran, plain and simple. I don't know who set the bounty, or why," he shrugged. "As for the Hunter who claimed the kill, I'd never met him before this morning. I don't know where he went after we parted ways. I don't even know if he actually was a Dark Hunter."

His voice took on a mocking tone. "What I do know is that the Dark Hunters are far better at their job of taking lives than you Toa are at saving them."


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2 hours ago, Darth Jaller said:

IC: Varxii - Silver Sea Island

Mistakes, errors... was there a difference?

The Kiril-wearing Toa frowned, but didn't comment. She supposed, with a few moments' thought, she could see what he was getting at; if anyone could make a mistake, but an error was something more careless, more long-lasting, something that you felt the effects of for a long time after... right? At least, that was how she figured it.

If something had gone wrong with the Nynrah vessel's navigation systems, as Carapar had said... by that reasoning, if it had been a mistake, they could just have course-corrected and been on their way. Since the ship had gone down, that was a rather more permanent state of affairs; therefore, by her tenuous logic, an error. Varxii scratched her neck, puzzling through this line of thought to try and figure out where it was leading.

Her companion seemed to be suggesting that foul play had been at work in the vessel's untimely demise. While certainly possible - the universe was wide, and had no shortage of beings who'd love to get their hands on some Nynrah tech - the fact that said tech was reportedly still in the wreckage implied that theft hadn't been the intent here. Or, perhaps, that the League itself was responsible for the vessel's crash.

"Guess the only way to know is to poke around when we get there," she suggested, a slight shrug rolling her shoulders.

Her other question, of course, was did it matter; but even if Varxii didn't have much check on her self-assurance, she did know when to hold her tongue.

"I... yeah, that's me. I've got a reputation already, huh?"

At least, she assumed that was it. Probably, said reputation was as the foolish girl who'd got herself beaten almost to a pulp before being forcibly signed on to the army; but Varxii could imagine, at least, that it was for her skill at holding out for as long as she did that her name was known, rather than the other side of that incident. Still, her grin was a touch sheepish... in all honesty, she wasn't used to actual attention. Back on her island, her former fellow villagers had been reservedly grateful to her when she did something big like stop a pirate raid or something, but had still been overall distant and disapproving of her. This kind of thing was... new.

Did she like it? Varxii wasn't sure?

As for her companion?

"Skorm... well, pleased to meet you. Though I've gotta say, this is the last place I'd expect to find another Toa."

Again, that slight shrug.

"I'm under Pridak, myself; but you sound like you already know that story."

She glanced sideways for a moment, catching sight of the other being - that couldn't really be a Zyglak, could it? - who had for a while seemed to be listening in on their conversation; but otherwise, paid her no mind. She'd join in if she wanted to, Varxii was sure; and if not, listening wasn't doing anyone any harm.

IC: Skorm, Silver Sea

"It is true, there are many Toa that fail to see the light of Mata Nui's will. I wish we did not have to fight, but the Universe as it is, such things are necessary."

Is it? Is it really, though?

Skorm scowled as he pushed the intrusive thought aside. He had heard of this toa's traumatic recruitment; her strength was admirable, but the extent of her loyalty was somewhat unknown. He looked at the warriors that had been gathered for this mission. Of note were a Zyglak and a corpselike creature he had seen a few times before. The first term that came to Skorm's mind to describe this force would be 'motley', though he decided that 'diverse' would be a more positive term.

Behind Skorm and Varxii, the ramp to the airship lowered, and some of the lower warriors made their way into the converted merchant vessel. Their mission awaited them.

Skorm's face shone in a satisfied smile. "But the time for philosophizing is over for now. We have a mission; it is time to perform our duty to the League of Six Kingdoms." Melodramatic, much? Skorm nodded at Varxii and turned to board the airship himself.

OOC: Airship to League mission, now boarding!

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3 hours ago, Smudge8 said:

Mazor left out a raspy chuckle, "No, I'm just undead."" He said, still focused on cleaning his weapon. "Never thought I'd meet a zyglek concerned for someone's health."

IC:

Irna wasn't quite sure what she had intended to say when she first opened her mouth -- What does one say in this situation? Is there a protocol for dealing with the undead among maskbearers? -- but the sound of her fellow soldiers boarding the airship put a stop to any such thoughts. Instead, leaning on her spear for support, she pushed herself up to her feet and nodded towards the transport.

"Of course I'm concerned for my comrade's health," she said. "I pray that we all remain healthy on this mission, after all."

-Void


 
 

 

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44 minutes ago, King of Kings said:

IC: Nale Vella - Onu-Metru rooftop

Nale sat on the edge of a rooftop, her rifle resting beside her, and watched as Matoran went about their day in the streets below. She had mostly shut out Dume's message--it really didn't concern her. The Mangai being imprisoned wouldn't change her job, and she was the last person who needed Toa power. She would continue to be a sentry over the island, whether it had a team of its own to protect it or not.

However, something caught her attention from an adjacent street below: a scuffle. Her eyes traced the action backwards, UIto see the crumpled heap of a Matoran, smoke rising from a melted down Kanohi that may have been a Pakari once. She grimaced at the sight, and quickly surmised the likely culprit who was currently facing off with a Toa of Stone, judging by color. Before she made her move, however, she noticed something else: another figure walking in the opposite direction of the very much dead Matoran, seemingly nonplussed about the whole thing.

Getting to her feet she slung the rifle over her shoulder and began climbing down, stopping halfway to jump off the side of the building and land in a crowd of panicking Matoran, all trying to push past her. She activated her Kakama and in a flash was standing in front of the cloaked figure, who she now could see was a Skakdi.


"What's going on here?" Her hand was already hovering above her knife's sheath.

OOC: hi dane

IC: Thom - Onu-Metru (Being interrogated about Nuparu's unfortunate accident)

Thom staggered back, in shock. 

The shock, however, quickly turned to frustration. He was so close to getting away and these bootlicking idiots kept popping up like diseases, desperate to ruin his perfectly great kill.

The Skakdi grunted, claws under the cloak feeling the still warm chamber of his weapon. 

He'd do it. If she pushed him, he would. 

Like squishing a Fikou.

"That inventor lad. Nuparu? Wassat it? Some 'orrible monster's killed 'im." Thom stated, failing to provide the detail that he may have been the "horrible monster" in question.

It wasn't as if lying was something he was alien to or anything.

Edited by Dane
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Tallea - Onu-Metru - Archives

IC: Well now, that was an awful lot of information just waiting to be explored. All in neatly lined up computers tied into some sort of central database. Of course the ease of access also meant that most of the really important information on this subject wouldn't be in there. A pity, Tallea had a feeling this hunt was going to get *really* interesting before it was over.

"Why thank you." The words, while polite enough, carried a certain sardonic air to them. Jutori hadn't gained any friends by attempting to hide his desire for the disks. She stepped forward into the room, calling over her shoulder as she did so. "This shouldn't take too long. I'll peruse the info as we move."

So say, she stepped up to one of the stations and leaned down rather than taking a seat. This wouldn't take that long. The screen flickered from one menu to the next as her fingers alternated between the keys and mouse, only pausing now as then to stare at something on the screen. Anyone watching closely enough would be able to see that her search had very little to do with the city's former Toa team. In fact the last window she closed had more to do with wireless systems infrastructure than autobiographical data.

Turning, she walked back over to the group. Speaking with a slightly distracted tone she said, "Alright lets go. I'll tell you if I find anything worth mentioning."

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