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IC: Ahkmou, Onu-Koro (Nuparu's Office) The war medals clanging on Ussalry armor made sneaking quietly through Nuparu’s office door obsolete for the onu-matoran guard. Ishi took stock of the newcomer and realized his identity: Onepu, head of the Ussalry. Despite being average height for his element, Onepu walked with his head high as the clouds. He carried a throwing disk of sharpened protodermis tucked under one arm, a dolabra at his belt, and a ceremonial dagger with a hilt of rock lion bone. Ishi cocked his head sideways, hearing a faint pop as the gears clicked in place. He sighed, the crick in his neck from sleeping in the chair finally relieved. “Our glorious leader arrives at last. My congratulations on repelling the Rahkshi so many months ago, Onepu. Though why you’d be late today… hopefully it’s nothing too urgent.” Ishi looked toward Nuparu, his face placid, rapping his burnt knuckles on the desk for the pleasurable echo it produced in the office. “Is this the man in charge of my supervision? I hope you won’t assign someone with a history of tardiness. Or are you less uptight than Hewkii in military as well as manners? But I think you were about to say something, Kongu, judging by your half open mouth?" The Informant smiled at Kongu.

IC: Ahkmou, Onu-Koro (Nuparu's Office) "Crystal as a dasaka's armor." "The island's been against me for a long time, Kongu," Ishi said after a moment's hesitation. Shoulders sagging with the weight of admittance, he gave a breathy sigh and continued, "but I'm looking forward to things changing." Even in his youth Ishi felt the loneliness and isolation Mata Nui had to offer. Orphaned in Po-Koro, then made a token child by Alerick Polzin because of his prodigious mind. The youngest of three adopted siblings, he spent his days spurned and alone. From then, things only ever got worse. After a point, the isolation became a haven, something to seek when relationships with friends became too strained. It was a place to bolster himself against the wars of Pathos and Logos. He'd always been too emotional. It showed as he looked back at Kongu's softening expression. "I'll abide by your decisions, Akiri. Nuparu, Kongu, how can I start proving myself? Ask, and I'll say whatever I can. As for being under supervision, am I assigned guard and allowed to wander Onu-Koro, or remaining under house arrest? I'd like to be able to enjoy the bazaar on occasion."

Nuju's in Ko-Wahi. I smell timeskip.

Please tell me this will end in a tribute dispute and a blood feud over taxation without representation. That said, I do love the two posts from the Umbraline and Dastana sides...

IC: Draeverian Joskiir, Ta-Koro (Magma Lounge) "That's all good and fine when you can see, but I'm blind and these paper jokes wear thin on me." DJ commented while poking the map with a finger. He leaned back in the comfortable wooden dining chair and began to pet the hilt of his sword, Rivet, laid across his lap. The world was heat, and sound, and very dark. The crackle of Mariko's posture realigning brought a thin smile to the de-toa's lips. "I'm ready to smash some skulls, maybe get rough on Kohra with a ten foot pole. I'm up for to trussing her up and dragging her home: back to a cell in this dung hole." The truth, if DJ felt like admitting, was more along the lines of slicing Kohra into tiny pieces and bring her back in a wooden box.

IC: Ahkmou, Onu-Koro (Nuparu’s Hut) “Trust was the last thing I expected you to require, Akiri Nuparu.” Ishi responded. “However, I understand the circumstances. I am, after all, a believer in the Great Spirit Makuta, and his works have left your people cowed in fear for over a century, despite his so called defeat at the hands of the Maru. What swayed me so long ago was power, and Makuta had plenty – far less to share, I learned. Still does. The Maru may have won the battle in Mangaia, but at this rate the war for Mata-Nui is slipping once more into his hand. But, I’m off on a tangent, and you asked a specific question: why should you trust me? “Admitting who I am is part of trust, Akiri, or is that not how heroes do things anymore? A toa should be honest; why should I hold myself to any lesser standard? I said I was lonely and ready to change. You’re looking at a new me. Faith is a fickle thing. Maybe saying was a believer would’ve been more appropriate, but it’s all just semantics. After so long being a pawn for one god, pained and spurned and mutilated, I want nothing more than to become a follower of his brother. I’ve seen the error in my ways, but one can’t simply walk away from the Great Deceiver.” Ishi shook his head sadly, encapsulating the pain and betrayal he’d felt when Vera left her mark, and the fierce trauma of antidermis eating away at his body. “I tried once, living as an outcast, even plotting against Makuta: but that backfired with Ambage’s trickery. It took returning to my old haunts to right those wrongs. Now, I want to work for the right side. And that’s why I’m your only option: I’m not brokering for wealth: I’m here for redemption. I don’t need to ingratiate myself in Echelon’s court: I’m part of it. I don’t need to seek the locations of dark secrets: I know most of them. I don’t need to worry about what the Abettor hides: I’ve been there, and saved Joske’s life to boot. ”Ishi winked at the startled faces of the Akiri at the mention of the fire-spitter. “Oh, yes, he’s back.” “If you require more proof in trusting me, all you need do is ask. Give me an errand, use my knowledge, or consult the fire-spitter you hold in such high esteem, and then make your judgments. I'd prefer nothing too, shall we say, explosive. If you won't give me asylum, at least let me walk freely and seek refuge elsewhere." Ishi rose as he finished speaking and leaned against the wall of Nuparu's Office. The stone was cool against his back, even as he felt the heat of the moment boiling his blood. Everything in his new body revolted against his words, sought to slay both Akiri and flee back to the shadows. Sought to feel their blood splatter across his mask, hear their death cries echo in his ears, taste the sweetness of success in spreading chaos. But instead of fulfilling baser cravings, he conveyed an outward placidity unbecoming of a psychopathic murderer. He was, if nothing else, being entirely honest in a literal sense. It took practice. He had plenty of practice.

IC: Ahkmou, Onu-Koro (Nuparu's Hut) "Good question," Ishi remarked. He appraised Kongu's quick thinking and tactical questioning before answering, "simply answered, Ambages is a threat to everyone. He's a Peer, and involved in the death of Akiri Matoro by association. He's sunk uncounted coin into a growing political monopoly. And he tricked me once, not to mention Echelon. A rogue millionaire bent on the destruction of a Great Spirit is not to anyone's benefit. Have you paid thought to what'd happen if he actually killed a god? Imagine the breakdown to faith and social order. It'd be anarchy, for a time. Religion and faith holds so much of our society together, keeps so many of your warriors battle ready. Where'd their faith go when the object it was placed in turns out to be a charlatan? "As for other sources, I wonder whom you're speaking of? Not the Hapaka by any chance, I hope. He died a few weeks back, crushed under Echelon's heel after trying to outwit Makuta's messiah. I think his head is on a stick somewhere these days, but that was when the Pact was on the road. The whisperers on this island are a small lot, and sadly most have turned their eyes away from your cause. What spies do stick around in the light tend to have a habit of getting false information. It's nice to be thoroughly dark sometimes: I have a clearer perspective of things where all you see is murk. Informants go with the winning hand, where profit is most likely to be made, and you're not exactly winning if losing an entire wahi is anything to judge by. Let me guess; you came to Nuparu seeking his Ussalry in a counter strike? Resistance is futile, my friend. Ko-Koro is lost, unless you have someone keeping you one step ahead of their plans. I've offered myself as that someone." Ishi paused, refocusing his mismatched gaze to include both leaders. If the conversation would continue in the same vein of direct communication, he had one more question to answer. "I want asylum, my good akiri, because I want to be safe when I visit your villages. A Makuta worshiper in today's climate is not openly accepted, and Ko-Koro is too dark and melodramatic for me. Indeed, I still believe in the Master of Shadows, but only because his strength lives on. Do I follow his wishes and perform his works? No, I've given up on my shadier ways, and hope to turn my talents to a better cause. I'm lonely, to be honest. Lonely, and ready to change. I'm tired of being spurned as an outcast by both camps, tired of not being able to go exploring the island without someone pelting a rock my way, and I'm tired of being tortured all the time. I'd rather have a comfortable hut in exchange for information gathered on a regular basis."

IC: Ahkmou, Onu-Koro (Nuparu’s Hut) There was a long moment of silence, followed by the matoran pulling a palm shrug and blowing a raspberry. With it, the aura of the ambassador popped like a bubble around the quirky Informant. He became himself, fully and irrationally. “News?” Ishi responded. “Why, I’m just here to report the usual: no news. Surely no news is good news. If nothing else, he’s been keeping silent about your repair deal. Oops, slip of the tongue. I forgot our green friend is unaware.” Giggling at Kongu’s reaction, he stole Nuparu’s swivel chair. The room turned several times before Ishi found his gaze again on the village leaders. “How juicy. “The name’s Ahkmou. I could certainly get news from Akiri Hewkii, but what I’ve got is more interesting, I’m sure you’ll think. Nothing like a little news about the followers of Makuta, eh? Or better yet, about what’s behind that Abettor. So, what do you say from one gearhead to another? I mean, you could put me in chains and torture me, but I'd be so bored at the lack of ingenuity, and pain these days seems to have lost its edge –“ he waved a hand -- “comes with the territory. Ten toes is all I got left, unless you were thinking of taking teeth. Echelon stopped with the fingers. You see, my friends, I have a proposition." He rode the chair back toward the desk, then hopped up next to the half-finished inventions. A gear rolled off the desk and clattered about the stone floor. Half sitting, half standing, he crossed his hands in his lap and grinned. It felt good to act naturally. “I want Ambages the Architect dead, and asylum in your villages. And, for once, our goals seem aligned. For that, I’d gladly provide some illumination to your mysteries, and continue my efforts to stay one step ahead of Nightfall: who killed Matoro, for instance, or where Echelon plans to attack next.”

... And I was attempting to report the news on a weekly basis.

So, you're saying like American Gods by Neil Gaiman then?

Well, that's basically the plot for the Peers, from what I've read: kill a god to prove their is no god.

I'd say Echelon serves a good "mortal" villain... although why not get Makuta back and then kill him for realzies?

The crabs are magic, people. It's all magic. Sciency magic, because it's reproducible (thanks Dorian and Skyra).

I always sort of thought of ussals as golfish-esque, in the sense that they will grow to fit whatever size tank they've got. So, ussals that are housepets will stay small, while ussals used on the road could get much larger... I hope I didn't just create ussal-zilla.

IC: Ahkmou, Onu-Koro (Nuparu's Hut) After a quick discussion between guards, a runner passing as the middleman, Ishi found himself being ushered through the tight foyer and into the main chamber of Nuparu's study. There wasn't much to discover of the foyer, but the study held plenty to stimulate the mind of the Informant. A large desk for paperwork sat on the one side, but the pair of matoran present were gathered around a well-illuminated work table covered in sprockets and half-abandoned mechanical projects. As a fellow gearhead, he commiserated with the Akiri for not having the time to complete his pet projects. The one with the orange pakari was undoubtedly Akiri Nuparu; description of the hunched leader was common. The other, the one who's fingers seemed to itch for the hilts of his knives even as a playful smile danced over his kanohi, was Kongu. Ishi hadn't expected another Akiri. Plans were changing. How delicious. "I have news from the North." He said while walking towards the leaders. He stopped to extend a palm in greeting, then added, "or, am I supposed to bow here? Etiquette in Hewkii's court is so different from your villages. So... unofficial."

OOC: Sorry for the delay, Norik and KNI. Let's get this show on the road. I'm still working on a couple of things, but I'll post as frequently as I can. Sorry for holding you both back. :/ Also, I was unhappy with the way I wrote this the first time, so I did some editing to show more emotion. IC: Ahkmou, Po-Koro (The Golden Pickaxe) Break Virtues, bring Darkness. Take secrets, leave Chaos... The hallway stretched out indefinitely, the rows of tablets on their shelves leeching out a green virus, a virus filling the air, the air saying its mantra forever. The mantra never stopped, never started, but it always pulsed, pulsed, pulsed with his heartlight. Break virtues, bring darkness. Take secrets, leave chaos. Ishi stared into the green distance, watching the rows of tablets pass faster than each murky footstep he took. He felt his gut drop, the pain of losing his fingers wrack through his body once again, and again, and once again. And the figure drew closer. He drew closer to himself: chaos incarnate, a vacuum of power and sin, a point where all of his existence disappeared. His fingers, burning with acidic flames, reached outwards to the new body, his new body. They struggled to grasp the outstretched hands of shadow, even as the servos and flesh melted away to leave nothing but bones falling to the ground... Morning came with a hard shock, Ishi slamming back into the chair as his eyes snapped open. Reality bled back slowly, the dream world fighting for control of his physical body. First came the feeling of the air; warm, underground tunnel air with the hint of wood smoke. In his dream the air was frigid, as if the void itself belonged to Winter. Next was the chair, its grainy fabric scratching at his back, the stiffness making his body uncomfortable. In the dream he was weightless, but here gravity was tugging in all the right ways. Ishi let his chin sag, his eyes closing briefly as he made a conscious effort to regain composure, and he listened to the sounds of life coming from the hallway outside, the breathing of his sleeping accomplice, the rise and fall of his own chest as air passed through him with its life. Sleep came late, and poorly, for the Informant since the ordeal with Echelon. Nightmares commonly stalked the early hours of his dreams, leaving him feverish, sweating, shaking, as he did now. Looking about the room, the fire had become ash, grey and lifeless, while he reclined in the chair. Outside, the darkness of the cavern village bobbed with slowly brightening lightstone lanterns, their reflections cutting through the window panes to dance along the floor and ceiling. He stood up, letting the gears in his back pop and crick back into alignment. A sharp pain coursed through his spine and down his left leg, but he walked it off by going to Dervish's bedside. The small toa of electricity was deep in slumber, her breathing languid and pleasant. He watched her peaceful face jealously. How lucky. He did his best not to imagine a crossbow bolt sticking from her shoulder, or her throat slashed and bleeding; Sucogu was likely to take her life by the end of the day, best not to imagine before results were achieved. Would he miss her? Undoubtedly. He half hoped she'd kill the veteran warrior. Their paths crossed at strange times, bringing the po-matoran a strange happiness whenever he saw her face among a crowd of mercenaries. The Company brought them together again, albeit in a nonsensical manner. But the morning wasn't time for idle thought. He had responsibilities, a purpose pumping through his bloodstream: chaos. He lived a new life in his new body. Of course, he still planned revenge for the past. That would never change, but now he had power to go with his plotting. He existed to stir the primeval pot of frustration and rage, lived to feel the exhilaration of death missing its mark on his flesh. Where to start? It wasn't a hard thought. He left the room quietly, a small note asking Dervish to retrieve the gear from Ferron before meeting at the Bazaar propped against a mug of water on the table by her bedside. The Golden Pickaxe was heating up downstairs with the morning's orders, but Ishi skipped breakfast in exchange for a brisk walk toward the center of Onu-Koro's government: the Akiri's hut. All the plans were falling into place. Just a few more daring adventures to go... "I'm on business from Akiri Hewkii; I'd like to request an audience with Akiri Nuparu." He liked the look on the guards' faces.

Farzan invented the wrist volos. You can only buy in from his store, unless he's been selling them through distribution.

The Mata Nui is not around, because very few reporters have signed on. Please see my blog if interested.

This list is... robust. I'm not sure any newer players would find this an easier list, unless they have a background in Dungeons & Dragons. I definitely like it, though. It's extensive, but perhaps it would serve better on the wiki than in the section for character creation? If it helps with easing the staff's jobs, though, I'm all for it.

Please delete Post.

Excellent, thanks!

Can someone give a quick run-down of the Kentoku Civil War since the Dastana cessation?

Personally, I find the second wave of 2015 for Bionicle atrocious. Not sinking a dime into it. I was really hoping for some rahi, or maybe something a little more interesting than the bland skeletons we're getting. *sigh*

Love Elves. Absolutely LOVE them. How did Lego hit almost every single one of my childhood fantasies?

Who knew spamming the left button on my mouse until my hand cramped could be addictive and fun?