Franco

IC: "Very well," intoned the impressively sharp-dressed Vortixx behind the front desk. He peered up at the credentials and adjusted his monocle. "In what manner may we be of assistance, Lieutenant?"

The rotational schedule is an oppressive power structure.

IC: Cero had been taking his time moving toward the strange noise. As he held Viajero, he had felt a perturbing thrum in the pup's body, one that remained even as the excitement of the fight wore off. A successful Pickup did nothing to assuage his unease. What if the Lillipup was sick? He was too new a trainer to know the signs, and he was too poor to have access to much medicine. What to do... He finally resolved to have it examined later and headed toward the truck at full speed, retrieving Viajero with a sense of foreboding. By the time he reached the truck's vicinity, though, he was too late to investigate. The vehicle's roar was fading in the distance. But he heard Esen, and he knew that she would know more. He just had to ignore her strangeness. "Who is 'them?,'" he questioned, entering the open area between windmills near Esen with a guarded stance. Immediately, he noticed a pair of bats next to her, as well as dust on her hand and foot--with the thud from earlier, had she been hitting the windmill?--and her downward gaze. What he didn't notice was the presence of Kyle. Perhaps Esen could elucidate.

IC: Good. I find the largest chair and sit straight in it, silent.

IC: The guards see me coming and salute. I point to the door, and they swing away. Perfect. I open it and step inside as I close, look toward the target. There's Onepu, and there's Nuparu...and there's Kongu. Unexpected. Now there's politics to avoid. But this could be helpful; I'm looking for help, more trustworthy people is more help. If we can keep us all on the same page. I pause and incline my head in their approximate direction. Equal respect should keep everyone happy, I think.

IC: When Gavarm got the message, his heart skipped a beat. He'd been laxly seated behind his desk, having finished the paperwork of the Rehn hunt; yet his fingers had been hunched over the stories of the attacked Koros, shuffling them like a hand of cards. He'd been dealt unenviable circumstances. However great a success his own mission had been--without casualties, with the defeat of Rehn and associates and the acquisition of loot--a Colonel's view needed to see beyond local gain and loss. In the time he'd been gone, three villages were attacked, and his home had been infiltrated by some of the attackers. Said attackers were presently consolidating even more power without fear of retribution. Onepu had instilled a regard for the state of the enemy in Gavarm, a percipient outlook from which he could view both sides of the world as though from above. The use of it removed opinions from his mind, letting him drift through the ocean of facts guided by the wind of observation. It was informative. He saw weakness and strength like he never had before, bloody edges and chinks in armor. It was also depressing. The opposition strengthened as his side weakened. The situation was untenable, but it also seemed inescapable. He had to find what he could do to worm through the cracks. There were hostages, so perhaps a rescue...? The message cut all that short, and his hands flew to their savior, pulling it to eyes that saw what the message said before they read it. She's ready. He shivered nervously, then set aside his work and walked out of his office for the stables absently. The last of his mental energy was set to keeping him from sprinting.

IC: I go back to my house, unlock it, enter the library. My reflection stops at the door. Scan: black and white shelves, in order, undamaged; dusty. I breathe in and the dust joins my Earth. Reflection is warped on uncovered tablets. Good. Work time. Addition of black "Piraka" and subsets and "Legacy" and subsets, white "Kehuri"...Modification of "Ta-Koro," "Ko-Koro," "Vault"...Replication of relevant ones from Earth. Go to exercise. Meanwhile: plan. Mistakes are past. Still good to avoid mistakes, and best way to do that is do good, be responsible. Fight the darkness. "Darkness" is black and "fight" is white. Black might also have a lot, maybe equal, but numbers don't matter, it's what you do with them. White needs to put numbers together. I need to put numbers together. Add us up. It's not about beating them, it's about winning. I clean, prepare, eat, and go to Nuparu's office.

The plot's thickening like syrup, and my vote is going for Option C, evil Ussals--specifically, the throngs of Voya Nuian Rock Ussals, which seek naught but the subjugation of all heroes beneath their unending HP.

Between the need for special alloys won in combat, the propensity for nicknames, and the customization, those are snazzy X-COM vibes. And considering the Dark Walk's defeated Rahkshi, those are good construction vibes. But really, for the Ussalmen who defeated said Rahkshi, those are beautiful reward vibes... Hitting me with all the postive waves, man.

IC: As disciples of the same path, I squeeze his arm as he does. As possible comrades-in-arms, I salute him, and he returns. Then I go home to prepare for action. The conversation was short. Good. Positive: its spent time is the start of an investment that already yields a relationship and ideas. Negative: Kehuri seemed to want more. Solution: there'll be time to talk on the march.

IC: I guess. I haven't done anything Onua didn't die trying yet. But there is much to do, and much to do it with. I will be young if I survive this war. --I will win it first. I nod and seize Kehuri's forearm, face calm and soul lifted, and he returns the clasp below the elbow. "I will see you."

To add to Nato's list: there's also Prosperity, formerly known as "Darkmine" and first in fungicultural diversity. But it's mainly for farmers. To respond to Prowl: in the BZPRPG, it's generally best to assume nonexistent until proven existent. There's a good chance Metru Nui isn't there. There are probably some other lands we haven't seen yet, but this is far from the canonical Matoran Universe.

IC: I look at him. He's been submissive. Normal. Maru get respect. I'm imposing. Yet he's just now started looking down. Unusually submissive after a talk. He's uncomfortable. He met Onua, and he loved Onua, but Onua disappeared. So he held on to memory and looked for the real thing. Now. He's heard there's something left, something he can't have, but he's facing it. He wants the truth. He will get it, even if he has to make small talk or be deferential or hide his disappointment. I appreciate that. "No," I say softly. "He made the path. I follow it." I think about this. "What is your name, Ussalman?"

IC: I wish I knew what to say. There's a lot. I never knew Onua and now I barely do but I always admired him. I played at him when I was young. His legend was true. I followed it, I saw his path, I appreciate him more. There is an honor in the privilege that was given to me that is too large to quantify. Who can measure the ocean? ... Yet we feel the ocean. Suppose there are words that are true as long as a thing is. Words showing modes and actions. Those words are pure, and they will work forever. "He was a good man."

IC: How did Takua explain it? "The First Toa's Toa Stones were made with their lives. Parts of them are in the Maru," I explain quietly. Silence self after that.

IC: I shake my head. "He talks." Just not right now.

IC: Cero couldn't identify the maw, but if its serrated edge was anything to go by, it was part of a Pokémon. That presented a mixed bag. He enjoyed learning about new Pokémon, and after all, he had come with the intent to catch one. They were a vital part of the world that he hoped to interact with more. However, he did not enjoy being lunch. And he essentially was. Hindsight said the pit's steepness and the beast's presence here was no coincidence. This was his opponent's territory. Cero had to make the opponent cede it. He backpedaled into the other side of the pit, drawing the shadowed mouth away from the opposite slope. His lowered hand, meanwhile, flicked out Viajero's Pokeball. "Work Up, then Ice Fang." The jagged mouth, which he realized belonged to a short and tophaceous body, paused at the words, looking to find the recipient. It didn't succeed until one very Worked-Up Lillipup's frigid teeth slammed into its back. Its beady eyes narrowed, yet gleamed haughtily as it simply Quick Attacked into the trap's side, smashing Viajero in turn. Before the dazed canine could respond, the ant-lion Bit down. The pup was almost engulfed by its mandibles. Cero foresaw nothing good from that position. Back to the wall and front trapped inside the body of another creature, Viajero could just be bashed into the sand until unconscious without one reply--there were no moves that would allow him escape, or that could be used inside the creature with Viajero's tiny reach. It was almost reminiscent of Kyle's Fraxure versus Aridez. A Pokémon that dwarfed its foe bit the enemy, trying to immobilize and finish it off. Except Kyle had an escape via a counter, Reversal... When it came to Cero, he smacked himself. "Reversal." The Lillipup, no longer dazed but certainly helpless to avoid the blows or counterattack, suddenly erupted with force. Its spine arched into his enemy's jaw. The Aridez-lookalike was also forced to let go, though unlike Aridez, it did not seem to have heart left in the fight. Cero sacculated the beast in another ball soon enough. He bent down and petted the panting dog, letting the canine tongue rub his hand. "Good work, Viajero." At this point, Viajero had been with him practically as long as Buitre, he reflected. And the Lillipup's performance had been good for his size. He deserved the praise. Still scratching behind the pup's ears, he moved senses other than touch to his environment. A great series of chirps began and soon cascaded toward him, and as he watched, scores of bat Pokémon flooded the sky. He frowned. Even he knew it was early in the day for that. He got up, absently scooping Viajero into his arms for continued cleaning. Well, he'd investigate. He started walking in the direction the swarm had originated, moving quietly through the abandoned windmills. At once, his senses found something else, something new and equally strange in this area, and he paused. Was that the sound of a truck starting up? OOC: I'll leave the profile of the catch and Viajero's Pickup for later.

-THE LAST WORDS OF CHAMBLISS, LOYAL RETAINER TO LORD LUROKA "High five, bro!"

I use level caps to avoid the cycle between long grinding and pulverizing of enemies. But they're only necessary if one grinds more than a couple levels, so YMMV.

IC: I shake my head, raise hand goodbye to Matoran and Ussal, step toward the Ussalman. We stand alone. Can't have serious conversation in the herd. I think. "Some are right," I tell quietly. I fall into Onua's stance, legs spread stably, hands drawn to shovel and head watching out from under the hunch. Straighten. "Using his Earth is using a quake."

IC: Want to leave that. Closing like coffin lid. Please open. Talk about you, not me. I shake my head.

IC: Gyn saw eyes, diseased reflections of his grey gaze, pools of verdigris over the blood that surged up in his veins, and his heart rose through his arms and into the finger that stroked the trigger and loosed two bolts in that direction, but Danger whispered protestations in his ear. He felt a return message blown his way. Ah. The response. Now she had it. Two players, one game. Gyn opened his hands and let the crossbow clatter down. He shifted, gaze toward the response. His mind clenched around the spear. Its penetration met resistance in the air. Its arc sank. He did not stop it there. What fun was a dance of incomplete figures? He just drew out the moment. There was a spear flying for his trunk, altitude and velocity fatally dropping. And there were his hands, gently seizing the shaft and spinning, commandeered tip inviting Danger. Gyn received it.

IC: Cero hesitated, trying to find a way to communicate a justification to Kyle, but all he did was watch as the other turned around. He shrugged. Was he supposed to do something else? Was he doing what he was supposed to do wrong? He offered his opinion, and it took into account everything he knew regarding the situation. It was but the same conclusion Esen had--just as fairly--reached. Yet Kyle didn't seem to like it. He tabled that train of thought and started walking away. It was alone time with his original friends. What could go wrong?, Cero thought to himself. Distracted by that thought amid the windmills, he abruptly slipped and fell into an incline. His body and face planted in the grit. Discipline could have prevented that, he reminded himself, vigilance was the watchword, and worrying was foolish. He would learn it all if he did not know it. He shifted, putting a hand on the wall of the dent to find more sand. But that wall was inclined in the opposite direction, and just as steep. He frowned. That wasn't something he'd seen before. Cero lifted his face, wiping his eyes with the back of his other hand to remove the lids of sand, then opened them. He saw the sides of a sediment pit, a tan sheen above a jagged void and, in that sheen, a pair of insect eyes. Cero pulled his cleaning hand back. The void expanded.