Visaru

- KIRIK (Fort Garsi Courtyard) Relieved he doesn't have to revenge the loss of his drinking cup by fighting (and losing to) the hulking bully standing over him, Kirik relaxes and leans his aching head against the side of the metal well. His red eyes however, remain fixed on Grolasch, catching in every word of the very interesting conversation occurring beside him.

Stud.io! It is very cool: it's free, generates the photrealistic images automatically, and is pretty intuitive to figure out. It's mostly for building Lego models, but it comes with a sparse few Bionicle parts and you can download more custom ones for free online. I've played around with it a little, but could never make anything like Arrow404's Boxer, which I'm very impressed by: a complicated, well designed build that looks like a real set and also mech built from Rahkshi parts. Nice work!

“I have several opinions on that score, but N’Ashka has done more brooding on this than I, and I’d like to hear her thoughts first.” I raised my voice and looked to my employer.

“Nothin’ to worry about,” Taro patted Dahkapa on the shoulder, stepping in front of the Pakari wearing guard and cutting her off from asking a follow up question about the old friend. “We've got all we need to know. Enjoy the new ice carvings.” He nodded, and the brand new gates slid open on runners of polished ice, opening the path for Dahkapa to renter the newly rebuilt main street of the village.

Kirik outstretched the cup to Grolasch. "If you won't give me my secret, you at least owe me a refill," he croaked.

“You have my word we’ll keep an eye out for your green Toa-companion. In the meantime,” Turo turned to the gates, “Welcome home to the City of Ice!” But a Pakari-wearing guard beside him gripped his shoulder as he tried to gesture Dahkapa in. “Turo, you know know the new protocols.” The Pakari-wearer turned her stoic gaze to Dakhapa. “We will need a more specific account of your intended business, and a look at any belongings you’ll be taking into the city.”

(Fort Garsi Courtyard) Kirik squints at Grolasch, then at the large roughly forged metal cup in his hand. For a moment, it seems as if he is trying to make something out in the water inside, and then he croaks out, “Tell me a secret, and the prize is yours.” Kirk lets his hand holding the water cup sway away from his body, holding it in a loose grip.

- TARROK (Irnakk's Jaw) That is the story of how I became traveling companions with two former warlords. An unlikely trio the three of us made: An aging no-name mercenary, the blind consort of a dead warlord, and a Kaiakan cut adrift from his both original home and his old empire. We looked like any many of the other down-on-their-luck travelers in Irnakk’s Tooth, but we had something those around us did not: faith, passion, and the luck to be better at killing than most of our enemies. At least, that is what I hope. — I only have so much stone with which to write my tale, and despite my urge for completeness, I think it best to omit much of the details of that day. We talked mostly of logistics for a while, of a place to spend the night, of our supplies and resources. To our luck, Kildarg had already set up camp outside the city. This was the clear place for us to retire to, as the only people who would stay in the Tooth’s public rest houses are those who don’t mind the prospect of being robbed in their sleep. I will record a bit of praise for the Kaiakan here: he knows how to find an excellent campsite, how to set it up professionally, and how to build an efficient and effective fire. It was around his well-burning fire that we found ourselves as the sun slipped behind one of the peaks of Irnakk’s jaw. I remember being mesmerized by the patterns in the twisting flames and the shimmer shades of the smoldering coals. I have never gotten over my attraction to fire. It is said that some can read futures in the shape of the flames. I do not know if this is true, but there is certainly something otherworldly about the ephemeral nature of the fire, and perhaps there was something that my subconscious scried in the fire that prompted me to break the silence. “I am glad to have met you both today,” I told the two former warlords. “I think we have been set upon a path that will lead us to greatness.” I wanted to say more, but I did not know how, and I was already uncomfortable with how kind the sentiment of my words was.

- KIRIK (Fort Garsi Courtyard) As Grolasch’s shadow falls across Kirik, the four armed Skakdi wearily raises his head and squints at the burly figure above him, taking a moment to make out the identity of the silhouette. Once he does, Kirik shifts as if to stand, but immediately thinks better of it. “There’s plenty of room,” he groans, inclining his head to the side, “to step around me.”

My pleasure! Sanctum Guard - City Gates One of the guards, a Matoran with a noble Huna, pushed another out of the way to get a look at the newcomer. “Welcome back, sir.” he said in a rough grinding voice. “I remember you from the war against Makuta’s Legacy. You fought bravely, using that time meditating in the hall of prophecies to good use. We owe him a debt of gratitude for his assistance, don’t we, soldiers?” The others mumbled some thanks as Turo gave them all a glowering look. “To answer your question, sir, things are coming along. The village is in functioning order, and we’re getting new technologies installed by our new Onu-Matoran Akiri all over the place. Being broken down gives us a chance to rebuild, make the city better and stronger than it was before. ‘Course, there's still blasted out areas of town that are more rubble than buildings, but the walls and the sanctum are stronger than ever. We could always use another hand though, if you’re willing to offer one.”

- KIRIK (Fort Garsi Courtyard) As Grolasch enters the simple, high walled courtyard, he finds a familiar figure sitting against the side of the metal well. Kirik is much the worse for wear from last night: he holds his head in two hands, an empty cup of water in the other, and his bladed arm is stuck into the dead grass, holding him steady. The front of his dull emerald armor is wet where the water he has been hastily drinking spilled out of his mouth, and he’s letting out a low, gravely moan. It’s been a rough morning for Kirik.

- Akiri Tarkhan’s office Korzaa steeled herself, stepped forward and raised one of her ice tablets to read from. To her horror, she saw it was slick with water, beginning to melt in the warmth of Tarkahn’s office. She silently cursed herself for her foolishness. She had assumed anywhere she went in the village would be cold enough to keep these tablets solid, forgetting about foreign climate of her leader’s office. Keeping her composure, she hurriedly scanned her notes, which were growing difficult to read as water pooled in the grooves of her circular lettering. Not wanted to make a scene about it, she pressed forward and started to speak. “Thank you for your consideration, Akiri,” she started, trying to remember the precise order of the points she had prepared for the meeting, “I think there are a number of security concerns to keep in mind.” “Firstly,” she squinted at her shiny tablet, “There is the ability of our village to support new inhabitants. We have never turned away fellow villagers historically, although we have never made special considerations to encourage immigration here either. The cold and the austere lifestyle has kept most foreigners out, but that has, of course, changed in recent times.” She nodded at Tarkahn and the Kalta, proof that the Koro was now home to many non-native villagers. “Of course, Ko-Koro has never seen a massive influx of refugees before. This is… unprecedented.” “Logistically, I believe it is certainly possible to house some of the newcomers in the areas of the city still battle scarred. They’d have employment — re-building these areas — and housing, once they had built it for themselves. It wouldn’t be comfortable, or easy, but they’d have a place to live and way to earn a living. It would be expensive and logistically demanding, but I believe we are capable of stretching ourselves to accept a modest amount of refugees.” “Doing so would create two problems, however: firstly, we would have less resources for guard work, as we will have to spend soldiers to help protect and settle the Dasaka. This will leave us slightly more vulnerable to an unexpected attack. The second is the nature of the Dasaka themselves. Personally, I know nothing about them, and lack of information is usually how security fails. What do they want? How do their mind powers work? Are they capable of hurting other villages, purposefully or accidentally? Can they shape our memories and our wills? How would we defend ourselves if they are unwilling to see us as equals?” Korzaa paused, tucking the half melted tablet back under her arm. “But I have… one last consideration. You say that these people are here as refugees from the Rahkshi. If this is true, then they are our siblings in the battle against the Makuta. A few months ago our home had been taken by Makuta followers like theirs has been, and all of us were refugees too, settling in places that were strange and uncomfortable to us. It was our allies in Ta-Koro, Ihu-Koro and Le-Koro that led the charge to retake our home, risking their lives for our well-being, because they knew that we are all one people. If we do not remember the principle of Unity and stand united against Makuta, he will surely crush us.” As she spoke, she realized she was referring to the great evil as if he were alive again. But if Rahkshi had destroyed an entire island, what other explanation was there? With the ominous unspoken idea hovering over the room, she nodded to Tarkhan. “You are the Akiri, it is your decision to make. These are my thoughts on the matter.” @The UltimoScorp @Haman Karn: A Magical Girl @Keeper of Kraata

- (The Rockwall) I frown. I was hoping for a more spectacular response. A hail of bamboo disks, or at least a hostile raising of weapons and a more explicit threat. Well, to my often-surprise, things don’t always go as I want them to. Now, if you’ve forgotten, a few seconds ago Cipher just asked me what I’d do if things happen the way we wanted them to. I told him — very confidently — that I’d improvise. And although I may be fickle, I am not a liar. So: Cipher’s jet of plasma didn’t work as a distraction? No problem. If there’s one thing I can do, Darling, it’s be distracting. “No closer to the walls? Well, as you say, sister. I’m no rule-breaker.” (Okay, so maybe that thing about not lying was a bit of an exaggeration.) I stretch out my hands in front of me like a Fire Toa carnie about to start his fireshow and feel out with my mind. My mind travels down through the stone below my feet. It's strong, solid, and immobile, rising out of a larger sheet of bedrock hidden below the plant growth, reaching all the way down to the seabed below, which fades away into the earth far below me… But I can’t control earth. Instead, I reach outward, to the seabed, to the beaches, and feel something that stirs in time to the currents of my thought, something as ever-changing as I am, shifting slightly down below the waves. I give it a nudge, feeling it invisibly eddy and swirl under the waves crashing around the fortress. It’s a great feeling to feel your element move at your bidding, like squeezing a handful of sand and feeling the particles run between your fingers as they stream out of your grasp. My feet pivot below me as I crouch slightly, settling my stance. Then, like a conductor telling his instrumentalists to crescendo enough to blow off their audience’s masks, I shoot my hands up above my head, and give the underwater sand a proper shove. The water in front of me erupts in a massive spray of foam as a column of wet sand geysers toward the air. Straining, I hold it there, and make the tentacle of sand curve menacingly toward the guards atop the wall. I even make its tip part, like a claw, or a Muaka’s jaws, and water streams menacingly from the sand-construct’s artificial fangs. “Anybody not know how to swim?”

Thanks so much Leaf for wrangling everyone and leading the expedition! I'm gonna pop in to give these npcs a little personality. The group of Sanctum Guard rookies tightened their grip on their spears. There were 12 of them, organized in two groups of six, all Matoran. Half were not from Ko-Koro. The retaking of the village had brought heroic characters from across the island who felt the village of ice needed to be defended, and some had been present during the battle to retake the Koro, so they had remained to keep it safe. The others were villagers of ice who had taken to their mandatory training, or who felt responsible for the fall and wanted to keep their homes and families from being lost again. Although most hadn’t held a spear before, they’d been working hard for months, and each one had been brave enough to personally volunteer for the mission. Many were so confident that they were indignant when they found out how many mercenaries would be accompanying them during training with Skri and Darktahk. One, a Ta-Matoran with a scarred Kakama, had even said so, his fiery attitude spurring him to claim that he could handle the dark walk all by himself, he was the best fighter in the group, and Rahkshi didn’t scare him. Although the critiques and scoldings from the other soldiers hadn’t completely cowed him, he showed no sign of his bravado now that he had been swallowed by the darkness. He was one more person completely out of place, feeling more unfamiliar and unsafe with every step, just like everyone else in the tunnel.

I took note of the way he inflected the word hunting, realizing he did have some pride in his role as a crab hunter. I had assumed he was being sardonic when he gave himself such an epithet. I did not even consider the possibility that he might take pride in killing rahi. But the workings of Kaiakan’s minds often give me pause. Then, he gave me answer I was truly looking for: The old wounds of his lost status revealed themselves, and in the way he talked about his old kingdom I knew that my suspicions had been right. He may be looking for self-understanding, but he wanted to find it the same way that Skakdii did. He craved power. I respected that, even if I it would inevitably lead him to betray us. I would need to keep a close eye on him, but at least now I knew his aims. Although he was dangerous, he could still be useful to us. My job was done. He was vetted. I turned to N’ashka to hear her response to his offer. She did not need my further guidance.

I haven't gotten to the end of the podcast but I second that ^^^^

“My name is Tarrok.” I nodded my head slightly in response to his but took care not to move my torso. I am a Skakdii. I do not bow. “The manner of our acquaintance is employer and employee, and my job is to keep her safe.” I told him. Technically I hadn’t been hired yet, but by claiming I was then I cemented the deal. She would be obliged to pay me now, my service putting her even further in my debt. “And, Kildarg, in the name of doing my job, I am suspicious about your intentions. You introduced yourself as a hunter of crabs, but I know you to also be a capable ruler and killer of Skakdi. I was working in the southern desert when you lost your throne, and I remember well that you did not relinquish it easily. What is it that you are searching for now?” Looking over his old armor, I wondered what trials had given it the scratches and dents it bore.

- TARROK I look a step away from N’ashka’s side, my grip still tight on my weapon, for I was still wary of this newcomer. N’ashka had made her thoughts and desires clear. I could read her now. But Kildarg’s bruises from his fall from grace were not as raw as hers, so he could hide his shame and mask his lust to regain his throne. I could not match his new identity as a ‘humble warrior’ and ‘hunter of crabs’ with my earlier impression of him, splattered with the blood of his enemies at the head of an army. When I find a gap in the place where two ideas ought to connect, I fill it in with suspicion of a hostile intent. It is a practice that has saved my life more than once, and so I kept my eye on him, hoping to soon discern his intentions. I already considered myself N’ashka’s bodyguard even then, despite the fact that our deal remained unfinished.

Korzaa shuffled in to the office, a stack of tablets under her arm, and took up a position a respectful distance from Tarkahn. Her eyes darted to the hastily covered Exo-Matoran in the corner and shifted uncomfortably in the heated room. She was acutely aware of the fact that she was not in a Ko-Matoran’s space here. This room felt felt more like an inventor’s workshop than an austere religious center like the ones her previous Akiri had commanded from. It made her uncomfortable to feel so literally out of her element in the very heart of her own city. Nevertheless, she held her expression and stance as stoic as always, ready to attend to her Akiri’s words with all the attention her duty owed him, trying to ignore the sweat already forming beneath her Kanohi.

Woah love the classic Tohunga arms with actual mobility. It's a good combo of the old MNOLG look I imagine the BZPRPG matoran in and actual human-like proportions.

Now I have always prided myself on my skills of perception, and my long career as a warrior is evidence that this is not false confidence. I tell you this because I now must write of a lapse in my awareness. I think it is because I was in a city, and it is remarkably easy for your enemies to vanish among a crowd. I hope it is not because of my age. The wearing down of a fighter’s abilities is a herald of the end of their career, and I am not ready to go to Kino-Ur and meet all the enemies I have slain in my life. So I tell myself that it is only the crowd around me and N’ashka that led me not to notice the Kaiakan standing amongst the other spectators. But soon the others had retreated and it became clear he was staring at us with something more than idle amusement. It was only then that I properly sized up the onlooker: a tall Kaiakan in the traditional armor of his people. He must have been a great sight once, but he was beaten down and worn now. It was then that I knew him: Kildarg, the Bright Lord, or so he had been once. He had controlled a historic fort to the south of here, and had gathered quite the collection of enemies. I had met one of those enemies, rented out my blade to him, and marched against Kildarg’s last outpost in the southern mountains of Irnakk’s jaw. Kildarg’s head had been worth a fine price at that time, but after his army shattered to pieces my employer was no longer interested in hunting him down, and so I drifted free of their employment. I held no grudge against the Kaiakan, and I doubted Kildarg even knew who I was, but my hand still tightened on the hilt of my blade. I do not believe in fate, but I could not help but mark the strange coincidence that led me to find two former warlords in one day, both discarded from their old positions and rattling around the dusty streets of Irnakk’s tooth. I did not consider it to be good fortune. Whereas N’aska’s recent injury led me to not consider her a threat, Kildarg still looked to be in good fighting shape, and I could not read the expression on the hulking ex-warlord’s face. Neither, I realized, could N’ashka, for she could not see him at all. “N’ashka, keep your hand on your blade,” I warned her in a low voice. “There is a Kaiakan standing behind you, watching us. I do not know his intentions, but I know who he is: the old Bright Lord Kildarg, from the southern desert.”

- VERAK (Outside The Rockwall) Let me tell you, plasma is something else. Like fire, but prettier, and better than fire, because only time you’re likely to meet it is on special occasions when you run into someone who can conjure it from thin air. It’s been a while since I’ve last seen it, and I find myself mesmerized for a moment as I stare at the swirling patterns of glowing energy in his hand. My attention is suddenly pulled into the sky as he shoots the magic gas into the air above the battlements of the Ga-Koro stronghold. Right. Time for the plan. “See you in a moment brother. Have fun.” I tell Cipher, patting his shoulder before I leap from the bushes we are using for cover, flailing my arms spectacularly. I land on a protruding rock, lose my balance, and activate the Calix. I instinctually know just how to move to recover, spinning around and posing like a dancer on my toes. With my arms outstretched and a smile so wide it feels like it might crack my borrowed Kanohi, I take a deep breath and announce my presence to the guards on the wall. “Good Morning Marines! It’s a fine day to break down some walls, is it not!?” @Haman Karn: A Magical Girl, I think these guards fall under your jurisdiction?

- TARROK I nodded instinctually, before realizing the futility of that kind of communication with her. “You will not be the first warrior I have trained,” I told her, which dredged up some old memories, painful enough that I had to clench my jaw to keep my expression stoic, even though N’ashka could not see my face. I will write of these memories at some other time. They are hard for me to think on. I moved on from my thoughts: “You say that practice with our blades is only my first job. Do you have the rest in mind yet, or would you like to settle on the terms of my employment first?”

(Fort Garsi) Startled, Kirik drops his tankard and coughs his own mouthful of drink out into the faces of the unlucky onlookers, then staggers back into them and knocking a few more drinks into the air. The now-drenched spectators, not enjoying the unexpected shower, decide to deal with the situation in the way they’d been taught to deal with any unexpected situation: violence. The fight soon grows fierce enough that it’s hard to tell who is fighting who, although half the combatants don’t even remember what grudge inspired them to start swinging fists to begin with. But they don’t mind: fighting for fighting’s sake is every good Skakdi’s favorite pastime. Kirik makes sure he’s right there in the middle of it, his four arms swinging uncoordinatedly in all directions as he revels in the chaos.

I stopped, sizing her up once more. “Good. And they are steep odds, to be sure. You are lucky you have found a mercenary with a little faith. I have no doubts that with me, you’ll have your revenge and be powerful enough again to reward your bodyguard with countless riches. Because you’d die before you fail, I think, and I’m in the business of making sure people don’t die.” “So. Do you have a job for me, N’aska?”