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sunflower

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  1. IC: Dehkaz [Ga-Koro Docks] The Captain watched Kale depart with his slightly green-tinged projection- the fact that Luten seemed capable of seasickness brought forth a hint of bewildered amusement at the continued novelties this island seemed to hold- before he moved off into the just barely contained bustle of the docks himself. A quick word with a few dock workers had the skiff moored to an empty spot in the ever crowded dockside, a feat in itself given just how many vessels were squeezed into the accommodations. Now, walking alongside the numerous foriegn vessels, Dehkaz was able to glean a bit more of their construction. Their basic design wasn't much different than Mata Nuian seacraft, convergent features common to most depending on what their original purpose; it seemed a fishing boat was a fishing boat regardless of its origin. Where they differed however, that was where his interest was focused. Chiefly among that was their peculiar construction, while they all incorporated wooden structural members and decking as far as he was able to observe; not unlike the common sailship seen across this island; where normally wooden planking would have wrapped around that to form a hull instead were slabs of a crystalline material. It certainly wasn't glass, not if these vessels had survived a journey as long as he suspected they did, but it also wasn't exactly the same material mined in Onu-Koro. The color was wrong, and the surface nearly opaque in a quality he'd never seen in a mineral before. There was also the fact that many of the larger vessels used a two, or even three hulled design the larger they got. Perhaps, he surmised, to deal with the far more rigi- Dehkaz's musings were cut short as a familiar voice called out from ahead of him on the docks, and the Captain turned his attention away from the crystal-built vessel and to the two approaching figures. One, of course given the gregarious nature of the greeting, was Skyra. The other Dehkaz did not recognize, at least not personally. Her armor, weathered from use, was of the same make as the reflective vessels around them, and bore a coloration relating to no Element or Koro that was known to him; though it certainly matched the descriptions he had heard and read of the foreigners. She was taller than the energetic Le-Toa she walked beside, enough to meet his own gaze dead on, and strongly built in a way that along with her worn armoring spoke to one that was no stranger to action. "Daring," He greeted as they met, giving the Toa of Air a nod and a slightly raised brow, before turning to address the being that she had obviously led to him. "Captain Khyrilik," He introduced himself to the foreigner. "Is there something I may assist you with…?" He added, letting the last syllable trail off to give the warrior an opening to likewise introduce herself. @Snelly @Lady Takanuva @Krayzikk @otter
  2. IC: Dehkaz [Naho Bay, Fowadi] The Toa of Magnetism nodded his assent, "Once we stock up you're free to go as you wish, I'm sure there will be other crew that will wish to disembark as well." With that, Dehkaz hauled himself up and over the side of the deck, landing squarely on the skiff which was in the process of being winched down to the waters below. Once the small vessel was fully lowered he unhitched the lines, holding a palm out to the side of iron hull to keep it from floating away as others boarded with a small application of his elemental power. A moment later, and they were off; carried by the slight breeze that had picked up. Weaving around the mass of crystalline and more conventional ships, they eventually reached the docks themselves, and it didn't take much time from there to find the three Toa that made it by their own means. "We'll split up, see what we can find out. Keep your ears open," the Captain advised, the general cacophony of the active port surrounding them. "We'll meet back at the ship by nightfall. Oh and Kale-" Dehkaz turned to address his first mate. "-See if you can't find some additional crew to hire on, we'll offer them the normal rate... and perhaps a bit more for useful skills. Here's as good a place as any, and I've a feeling now might be a good time."
  3. IC: Leli For the majority of the conversation Leli felt fit to stay silent, she had her input on the whole crazy situation, of course, though she felt it appropriate that Tarnok deliver his report uninterrupted. The three of them were all there, and he was better equipped than her to present the events in a... unflavored manner. But at his last remark she bristled, and her mind raced. "Not going to happen," Leli interjected, with a bit more fire than she meant for it to have. She turned to Nuparu and gave an apologetic motion, "Sorry, Akiri. Ussalmatoran Tarnok was under my command, any dereliction of duty was under my purview; not his."
  4. IC: Dehkaz [Naho Bay, Fowadi] Dehkaz watched the two of them grapple off into the mass of shipping that crowded the Ga-Koro docks despite Praggos' sputtering objections, and for a moment, he had half a mind to join them in their expedited trip across the water. Perhaps it was just as well that his own equipment was stowed in his cabin, having been replaced during their maritime travels by his coat and sidearm. As he made his way over to one of the ironclad's davit-mounted skiffs Ember approached, and he glanced over to the Matoran as she spoke. "Of course, go ahead." @Perp
  5. IC: Their journey around the cape had gone encouragingly, the weather had held and the waters remained relatively calm. Just before dusk they had reached the northernmost tip of the island, laying anchor there for a small party to take one of the skiffs ashore to the squat, stone lighthouse which was the rocky outcroping's sole inhabitant. There they remained for a few hours after the shoreparty had returned with current maps and charts, taking the time to take stock of the crew's effectiveness as the watch changed over. While by no stretch of the imagination green sailors at this point, their familiarization with the ironclad was an ongoing process during their maiden voyage. With changes made and duties rehearsed the Fowadi set out once again. The ocean’s flat calm continued well into the night, the reflected stars above in the cloudless, moonless night offering an eerie calm that permeated their journey down the eastern side of the island that lasted until daybreak. By midmorning they had begun sailing west, angling towards Naho Bay. The sea had picked up somewhat with the wind, though dropped down as they entered the clear, shallow Ga-Wahi waters. Only a few hours later had them begin to navigate the shallows between the various islands that dotted the entrance to the bay, sails furled to reduce their speed. Dehkaz stood atop the quarter deck opposite to the wheel, weight braced against the hull plating as he looked out over the rapidly growing landmasses and inlet of the bay. Something had struck him as odd as they had made their way closer and closer to the beachside Koro, though it wasn’t until they had entered the bay proper did it hit him. The waters were surprisingly clear of shipping, for a village so steeped in ocean-going trade, there were scarce few vessels in the waters around the mouth of the bay. The fact bothered him, and he was about to voice his concerns to the rest of the crew when a glint of sunlight caught his attention. From the wrong direction. The sun was at his back, and yet something out towards Ga-Koro shone like a star- as if someone had erected a giant mirror right out in the harbor of the village. He knew, of course, that was impossible, but it wasn’t until he had gotten a closer look thanks to his Kanohi that the captain realized just how close he had actually been. It wasn’t some great mirror, but reflective all the same. And it wasn’t a singular point. There, amongst the green lilypads and wooden docks sat numerous crystalline vessels, glittering in the sunlight as brightly as the waters in which they floated. All manner of them, from largest multi-masted ships to smaller fishing boats which were only visible once the Fowadi sailed closer to the crystalline fleet. So many that a great deal of them had simply beached themselves in the shallows close to the shore, and they lined the sands from Ga-Koro. Though alien in their make, with sharp lines and multi-hulled construction, their material of choice called back to what he had heard of the curious vessel that had docked in Ga-Koro months prior, as well as the foreigners which crewed it. This certainly threw a wrench into their plans. While there had been a small question of there being large enough facilities for the Fowadi to dock at Ga-Koro previously, with the foreign fleet now taking up residence at the village, there was no possible way for the ironclad behemoth to squeeze through the mass of shipping. “Small change of plans,” Dehkaz said, turning to speak to Kale, the Toa of Iron not far on the main deck. “We’re not going to be able to stock up on supplies from Ga-Koro, let alone dock there in the middle of all of that. We’ll lay anchor here for now.” “Rynekk, Ember!” He called, “I want you two to take a crew and some skiffs over to Forsi across the bay, see if you can’t find us some supplies to partially stock up on.” “Kale,” He turned back to the first mate, “you’re with me, we’ll head into the Koro and figure out what this is all about.” Dehkaz paused for a moment, before adding, “Let’s take Krayn too.” @Void Emissary @Krayzikk @Silvan Haven @Snelly @The UltimoScorp @Perp @otter
  6. IC: Dehkaz [Ostia Docks, Fowadi] Dehkaz followed Krayn up to the Fowadi's weather deck, behind them on the dock below workers were moving about, untying mooring lines and removing empty pallets which had held stacks of barrels and supplies when they had departed the ship earlier that day. A sizeable collection of onlookers, some gathered on the dock or adjacent docks and some in the harbor itself standing on small boats and skiffs, had gathered throughout the day as news of the refitted flagship's departure had spread throughout the white stone port town. It wasn't a great surprise, the ironclad's gleaming hull had become a fixture in Ostia during the previous few months, and many of the individuals gathered had a hand in her overhaul. The deck of the battleship itself was beginning to take on a frantic hum of activity, though orders shouted and signals raised kept a frame of organization to the otherwise indecipherable activity. Hatches and scuttles were being secured and rigging checked and tied into position all the way down the length of the metallic leviathan. Within the depths of the ship came a reverberating repetitive clunk as the anchor was weighed and slowly rose from the water a link at a time. Even deeper beneath the deck was the hum of the pump starting up and getting up to pressure. Amongst all of this, Dehkaz took up a position behind the ship's wheel, pulling it to starboard and waiting for the final confirmation that all was set for their departure. The gangway was removed, the last mooring line was pulled aboard, and the Fowadi began drift away from the dock. Dehkaz gave a command, and the yards were trimmed to starboard and the pure white topsails let down to catch the offshore wind as well as the golden afternoon light. Now fully under her own power, the ironclad set off in earnest, much to the excitement of the onlookers gathered. Gaining speed rapidly despite its apparent bulk, it didn't take long for the Fowadi to clear the harbor entrance and sail out into Leva Bay. To their port side just outside the harbor sat the ironclad Pakanokai, having been completed only a few short months prior. A flash of light followed by thunder rolling over the sea emanated from the Fowadi's smaller sister ship as its saluting guns arced a salvo of photothermic charges high into the sky above. Dehkaz watched them pass, before turning his attention back to their course ahead. Behind him the geography of the stone coast began to drop away from his view, taken over by the great endless expanse of ocean that stretched out further than he could possibly see before him. OOC: Fowadi and gang to Ga-Wahi. @Void Emissary @Krayzikk @Silvan Haven @Snelly @The UltimoScorp @Perp @otter
  7. IC: Tera looked up from her desk, away from the map of the island she’d been considering. She was still waiting for the other rahkshi shaped--errr… well, she supposed neither they nor Makuta wore shoes, but the metaphor might still stand. Foot? That didn’t have quite the same ring, but perhaps there was something there. She reached up with her hand and gave an almost lazy gesture, the door Dehkaz had just knocked on clicking as the stone components of the latch slid to the side and it slightly opened. “Come in.” Dehkaz listened with half an ear, though intently enough to file it away for later discussion, to Skyra and Krayn. A growing sense of concern over the Le-Toa’s current condition permeated the air, broken as the door before them swung inward ever so slightly. Dehkaz pushed it open the rest of the way, giving a nod and casual salute in greeting to the Captain of the Po-Koro Guard. “Afternoon Tera, we’re gearing up to set off soon. The Fowadi’s practically shining. Few more things to iron out, and I believe Krayn has some questions as well.” “Captain Stonehaven,” The De-Toa greeted, pushing down a long ingrained instinct to salute. For the moment he was a civilian. The Captain had been fairly new to her post the last time he was in Po-Koro; a stint of detached duty to the Village of Stone, continuing in the same cooperation from before Makuta’s fall. It wasn’t work that crossed their paths very often, but he couldn’t have stayed as long as he did without seeing her in passing. This was their first proper meeting, though, and the first time he properly took stock of her. “Dehkaz was kind enough to let me piggyback his meeting with you.” In place of a salute he extended his hand to shake, with a friendly- albeit absent- smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you properly. Krayn Inzaka, formerly of the Gukko Force.” Tera stood, her light blue eyes looking over Krayn before extending a hand to shake his. “A pleasure, Mr. Inzaka. I know a little of your history, though tangentially…” The Po-Toa gestured around her office, walled with filing cabinets, the only exception a pair of cestus hung in a place of honor over the map of the Koro, one badly dented, the other stained with blood. “I’m still working through Captain Wortan’s records. Dehkaz said you had questions, what can I do for you?” Krayn opened his mouth to speak, and then paused. The matter was so simple on the face of it but with so many layers beneath, so many questions he had to find some way to ask. If he enlisted, who would he work for? Would they be willing to work with him? Is your work environment toxic? Salary? Sick days? By the way, is your new boss a fascist too? “That’s a surprisingly complex question. May I sit?” Tera gestured to the chairs across from her desk as a wordless assent to Krayn’s request, indicating one for Dehkaz too. She sat as they did. “Makuta is back.” The sentence rested for a moment without follow up or preamble and Krayn held his coffee mug from outside cupped in his left hand. “That probably isn’t a shock to you. I had my suspicions before I came back from Ko-Wahi, but Dehkaz and I ran into a friend that confirmed it.” Tera let out a breath and nodded, her expression becoming a dour frown. “I thought as much, or… Mmm. Did you fight in defense of any of the villages, Mr. Izanaka? When the Rahkshi attacked?” “Which time?” Krayn gave half an apologetic smile at even that dry a joke, and took a long sip from his mug. “Yes. I was in Ga-Koro during the final attack, on the deck of the Infernavika as a matter of fact, a few hundred yards from the Fowadi. Before then I was present during the assault of six upon Le-Wahi.” Tera’s head bowed, then she nodded. "Then you know what they’re like. Vicious. Overwhelming. There were few of us here, we’d lost a lot even before--well, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you." She took her own sip and her eyes flicked back up to meet his. “But we had moments where it seemed like we were winning. Pushing them back, getting a chance to breathe. And every time that happened, they’d come back stronger. Because above all, those creatures and their master are singularly relentless.” Her jaw shifted. “To an extent, it’s felt like these past years have just been another winning moment in a battle that’s still not over. But if he’s back, truly, well… I expect that fleeting second to end soon.” The other Toa nodded. There wasn’t a need to ask a question, or to relate his own memory of the fight. It was a point they both understood. He sipped his coffee, allowing the thought to settle, and then nodded again. “I think it already has. Captain, I retired from the Force for personal reasons. I won’t bore you with them. But I thought it was over. I could rest easy after a frankly grueling few years. But I went to Ko-Wahi because I couldn’t sit by.” He shrugged, the movement obviously hesitant and uncomfortable in one shoulder. “Without Dehkaz, here, I would have died there. I would have liked for that to be the epilogue, the genuine end to a war we’d won.” “Clearly it wasn’t. I can’t stand by now, either, and by myself I’m a little short-handed for this fight.” He took a longer breath, letting out out slowly. “The reasons I left the Force are still in play. If you have concerns about my competency I’m happy to alleviate them, but my resignation wasn’t of that sort. I’m here, frankly, because I need to work with someone. Po-Koro is the closest thing to a home I have now, but it also… hasn’t been perfect.” He met the Captain’s eyes without condemnation, but without apology either. “Dehkaz was kind enough to let me come along because I want to come to some kind of an arrangement to continue working with him, and the Sentinels. But I came because I needed to meet you, too. To see if you were someone I can trust.” The aforementioned Toa of Magnetism’s violet gaze flicked from Krayn to Tera. He sat, quiet as the two spoke, having nothing to include as of yet. His hands were steepled before him as he regarded the other two. For a brief moment his mind hit on just how unlikely their small gathering was; in a hundred other lives none of them would have been here at this table, let alone as acquaintances and allies. More and more it was becoming clear just how powerful a motivator the Darkness the island struggled against was. “No, it isn’t perfect. It hasn’t been perfect.” The Po-Toa’s eyes met Krayn’s steadily. “I think one of the many costs of our momentary victory over Makuta has been our naivete about our own nature when deprived of darkness to unite against, but perhaps that’s for the best.” She tapped her finger on her desk once. “As far as trust goes, know that I serve the Koro, for her people and the ideals of what she could be. I hope any actions of mine you’ve heard of have borne that out. Moreover, with darkness once again on our doorstep I believe the island working in concert is imperative. The Aggressors are a great symbol of that cooperation and something I’m glad we play host to.” A shrug. “Of course, it’s all well and good to say those things. You’ll have to judge if you can trust me for yourself.” Krayn’s mouth quirked with what might have been something like discomfort— or maybe distaste— at the mention of the old task force. Not directed at the Captain. To her he nodded slightly, almost unconsciously. There wasn’t any give to her tone but she hadn’t bristled at the point either; the Po-Toa didn’t pretend Po-Koro’s former attitude hadn’t happened. But she didn’t try to justify it, either, and she had her priorities straight. “You’re right. Words are easy. But you’ve said the right ones, Captain.” The Toa’s posture relaxed just a little. “Which I suppose brings us to whether or not you’re willing to make use of me, Captain.” “In a vacuum that would be a fairly difficult question to answer, but I suppose the Commander’s presence is fortuitous in that regard.” Her eyes flicked to the Toa of Magnetism sitting quietly next to Krayn. “What would your impression be of him, Dehkaz? You’ve saved his life, I figure you must know.” A slight smirk quirked her dark lips. A brow raised on the aftermost mentioned Toa’s Kanohi, and from behind it Dehkaz glanced from Krayn back to Tera. His hands separated from their position before him as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Scarce few people nowadays that I’d trust to have my back regardless of the situation at hand,” he addressed to the Captain of the Guard, his tone was characteristically pragmatic though still wholehearted sincere, backed by an ease to his normally rigid posture and intonation. “Krayn is among those, but more than that; there aren’t many of those who I’d trust to keep that same sort of dedication to the people of this island as a whole.” Dehkaz paused for a moment, as if considering something. “Give him access, information, support, and there isn’t an injustice he wouldn’t tackle,” The Toa of Magnetism looked to Krayn for a moment, before continuing to speak to the Po-Toa, “Great Spirit knows he’s gone up against the evils of this island without any before.” “Give him a lever and a pile of stones to stand on and he’ll move the island, huh?” Tera smiles faintly. “If Commander Dehkaz vouches for you sincerely I would be remiss in refusing your service. The only question is what role you’ll serve. What do you currently do aboard the Fowadi?" “Manage my old boss.” The quip slipped out, a stopgap against his surprise at the depths of Dehkaz’s ringing endorsement. And ringing was the word; every material in the world had a resonant frequency, the right sound that would make it shake, and he had a feeling that this was what it would feel like. He’d have to get the Commander back for that. “Aside from that, Captain, I haven’t served directly on it before. I was there when we picked it up to go after the ’Vika and I’ve spent a lot of time as a helpful passenger. But I’m not much of a sailor.” The De-Toa shrugged, then smiled as a thought crossed his mind. “If Dehkaz is up for it, perhaps he’d be willing to be my supervisor. A friend made the point that I don’t seem to do well in a rigid command structure. Having the Commander around to make sure I’m using my authority wisely would work out, I think.” “If you know how to swim and fight, I think that’s all that’s needed.” Tera smirked, her eyes drifting to Dehkaz. “That arrangement would be amenable to me. Commander, I assume you’re content with this as well?” “Absolutely,” Came the Commander’s reply, his face pretty clearly showing the positive appraisal for the arrangement which the De-Toa had come up with. It was a clever idea, the three of them knew how much efficiency was lost in the day to day grind of Guard activities. It was necessary, of course, as the island’s defensive forces grew in size so did the sheer logistical needs to coordinate them effectively. However, Krayn didn’t necessarily need command, nor underlings to carry out his orders. No, the both of them knew that he worked best without obstructions, and this was the best way to clear them. “Your cabin is as you left it on the Fowadi,” Dehkaz turned to address Krayn himself as he spoke, giving a small nod more to himself than the two other Toa in the office, “I’ll get the finer details sorted out while we’re underway.” Satisfied with the mental checklist that he had rearranged, Dehkaz rose from his seat. “Thank you for your time Tera,” he said, “We should be headed back to the ship now, wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve already managed to catch some pirates by the time we get back. I’ll send word when we reach Ga-Koro.” With pleasantries exchanged, the two Toa parted from the monolithic stone structure of Sentinel HQ, the sun still high in the sky as they stepped out into the dusty main road. From there, it didn’t take too much time to collect the rest of their band and make their way back to the Iron Mahi line to Ostia.
  8. IC: Day broke as it always did, obscured by a fog that clung to the embankments of the river Meuse. The sun had yet to rise completely, or so it seemed through the blanketing haze that hung over the landscape. There was no brilliant disk of light shown down from the sky, simply an even glow that diffused through to the scenery around. Upon closer inspection a nearby observer might have noticed slight wisps of some black, opaque smoke that drifted through the fog on its own accord, driven by winds and currents unseen to any but it. Or perhaps they would have come to the realization that the grey tone which the dirt and foliage took on the banks of the river was not entirely the result of having been viewed through the haze around, but rather the fine, powdery dust which clung to nearly every available surface. Suddenly a rapid succession of lights flashed from the western bank, breaking the eerie silence that had hung over the landscape, followed immediately by a thunderous crack and a faint whistling through the air. And then all was silent once more. Until a trio of explosions ripped into the landscape, one landing on the eastern bank and sending a huge gout of water and sand into the air. The other two sounded somewhere deeper into the mist, each more distant than the last. Scarcely had the debris from the massive impacts fly out of view did another barrage of artillery fire echo out across the grey landscape, melding with the cacophony of weapons fire which seemed to have taken the cue to begin. Not all originated from the western bank, however, as a pale green, ghostly shaft of light lanced out from within the mist on the opposite side, tracing a path like one would move the beam of a lantern across the landscape. Foliage burst into flames from its touch, and sand fused itself into glass. The water of the Meuse burst into a column of steam as the beam traced over its surface, and then it was lost in the fog. * * * Above the fog, suspended in the air nearly a thousand feet above hung the airship Thunderchild. The leviathan of steel and steam was, for the moment, motionless, though within the winding corridors and lightened frame in its interior it was anything but. At the heart of the massive airship, within its cavernous hanger space, engineers and officers rushed to and fro. They wore a multitude of uniforms and equipment, matched equally by the multitude of languages that echoed about the interior space of the airship. All were dwarfed by the massive fighting machines which they scurried about. Each was as unique as those that serviced them, bearing the flags of nearly every nation on the planet, though were still arranged in a pair of neat rows down the length of the hangar. The air was positively electric with activity. “One minute,” Came a voice, projected by voice tubes from a far off location somewhere else on the airship. The hangar space began to clear, as service people made last second checks on the colossi before moving. “Thirty seconds,” the voice sounded again, this time louder as the conversation which had filled the hangar not a bit earlier was pulled away with the crews. “Five.” “Four.” “Three.” “Two.” “On-” The last bit of the final count was drowned out by the great sound of mechanisms engaging, and one by one the section of hull beneath each of the individual fighting machines dropped away to release the metal behemoths into the sky below. It was not a complete freefall, however, as nearly as quickly as they had dropped did pressurized seals break and gaseous envelopes not unlike those that held the Thunderchild aloft inflated, slowing their descent to a more manageable speed. Guided by the crews within, one by one these armored warriors slipped beneath the fog…
  9. If one had declared to the masses that, in the final years of the nineteenth century, this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than that of man, and yet just as mortal, none would take such a claim seriously. None would believe that as men busied themselves about their worldly concerns they were being scrutinized and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinize the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency, the people of this world scurried to and fro across this globe, going about their little affairs, serene and ignorant in their assured dominion over the material- probably not unlike the infusoria under the microscope. No one gave a thought to the older worlds of space as sources of incontrovertible human danger; or, if they did, thought of them only to dismiss the idea of life upon them as impossible or improbable. It is curious to recall some of the mental habits of those departed days- a bygone age where terrestrial men of greater imagination pondered whether there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet, across the gulf of space, there brooded minds that are to ours, as ours are to that of beasts; intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, appraising our world with envious eyes, slowly and carefully drawing their plans against us. And early in the twentieth century came the great disillusionment. The year is 1903, the Great Martian War rages on. Five years ago, mankind received a bloody and violent answer to the eternal question - "are we alone?". Indeed, the first cylinder falling from the heavens was a surprise to all, but markedly was only the tip of the proverbial spear. The merciless attack on humanity itself that soon followed was destruction the likes of which no person had seen - a terrible assault from cold, vile intelligences which shook even the greatest of human nations to their very core. Like lightning and rolling thunder the otherworldly invaders struck across Great Britain from the landing sites of their silvery vessels, sweeping south past the great city of London and up to the furthest reaches of Scotland in the north. In a matter of days, there was naught but destruction and desolate wasteland as far as the eye could see - that is, if any poor soul had managed to survive in the wake of the invader's advance. Even still, this was not the extent of the invaders’ insidious designs, and even now the Martians conspire to leave absolutely nothing for us. However, the mettle and resolve of humanity is poised to determine if our home is something that we shall give up so easily... To this day, the nations of the world push back! Equipped with unbroken spirit and boundless valor, brave soldiers make use of mechanical marvels reverse-engineered from the Martians’ own fighting machines. These mighty few, clad in iron and possessing prodigious courage, may yet turn the tide. Terrae Impetus Retro. The State of Things The British Empire Defeated! So said the headlines of newspapers across the world during the winter of 1898, not but a day after contact had fully and completely been lost with England. Only a few short months into the Martian invasion and one of the most powerful nations the world had ever seen was no more. Some nations celebrated, others quietly gathered their military forces, but many simply watched, unwilling to acknowledge or unaware of the danger that the otherworldly beings posed to them. This complacency was only compounded when the Martian’s advance simply stopped at the English Channel, and for two long years it seemed as though that was the extent of their assault on humanity. Of course, none sat idly by during this time. The remnants of the British Empire, formerly scattered across the world, lobbied for the retaking of their homeland. Others, such as France and Germany, made quick work of snatching up what precious few pieces of the Martian technology could be acquired for their own use. The lack of activity looked to some as though the Martians had simply left, gone to return to their planet. Some academics even went as far as to say that the Martians had been wiped out by the Earth’s own microscopic biosphere, for surely they could not have developed an immunity to Earthly diseases as mankind had over the millennia. Whatever the reason for the pause in action, it was not to last. In early Spring, after the turn of the century, the second Martian advance began with their fighting machines emerging from the waters of the channel onto the shores of Belgium and the Netherlands. There was little forewarning to prepare a defense, and in the time it took for the powers on mainland Europe to marshal their forces the aliens had made it far as the French and German borders to the East and West, leaving swathes of destruction in their wake. It has been three years since then, and while ironclad battleships from the world's nations hold the line from the Channel itself, landlocked defenses are slowly beginning to weaken as the Martians continue their unrelenting assault. But man has not been idle, and their newest weapon may be just what turns the tide of this war of worlds... Ferreis Induti No later than the first sightings of the Martian’s massive mechanical beasts did the minds of man begin to work, wildly speculating and postulating exactly how the various mechanisms by which the fighting machines of the otherworldly invaders operated. After the first of the tripodal giants were felled, its components were hurriedly collected and whisked away to nations that coveted them by enterprising individuals for these theories to be validated and amended. At first, various nations only received bits and pieces of the Martian’s strange technology, and information that could be gleaned from the disparate parts was fractured and incomplete at best. Indeed, it took the Martians’ second brutal assault for the inventors and engineers of the defending nations to come together and truly unlock the secrets of the Martians’ greatest weapon. Thus soon after, mankind saw fit to create fighting machines of their own. With boilers and reciprocating engines powering dynamos, these man-made titans leverage the magnetic-mechano limbs derived from the Martian technology to achieve motion. However, the more esoteric of Martian technologies have proven to still be beyond our grasp for the time being - the heat ray in particular vexing the brightest of minds. Though not as large as the hundred-foot tall behemoths they are designed to fight against, a dedicated and determined crew gives these machines an edge. Demons from Mars Much has been written of the men from Mars in the years since they landed in their gleaming pods, though as of yet no live individual has yet to be found. From the bodies recovered from their destroyed fighting machines, the true face of the enemy has been closely studied. The Martians themselves are large, with oily grey bodies about the size of a bear. They possess no limbs like the kind familiar to us - instead, a plethora of long, whip-like tendrils surround the area underneath their V-shaped mouths. Two large eyes, round and lidless, are perhaps the only familiar aspect of their peculiar biology. Internally they appear to possess no organs save an enlarged brain which occupies the majority of their body. How such an organism is able to live and function is beyond our science thus far. More striking, however, are the great machines they pilot. Approximately 100 feet tall, the machines stand atop three spindly legs with which they glide across all manner of terrain. These legs attach to a girdle of sorts that is secured to the body of the machine itself, with a mass of writhing tentacles extending down from the bottom of the machine. A hood caps the very top of the body, while the weaponry - such as the heat ray - that the Martians utilize is held at the ends of the tentacles. It should be noted that there are a secondary, distinctive subspecies of Martians, separate from those who occupy the tripods. While the large, cephalopoid creatures are undoubtedly the masterminds of the invasion, a second, subservient species has also been observed. Peculiarly, they are two-armed and two-legged, a form that at great distance could be mistaken for mankind itself. Indeed, it was initially thought that these creatures might be some twisted abomination of humanity, until specimens could be properly investigated. These are no humans - with brittle siliceous skeletons and long limbs which attach to an overly rotund body, it appears that without wearing the form-fitting, metallic space-suits provided to them by their masters, they would be crushed by the increased gravitation of our world. Beginning with the launch of the second wave of Martian assaults, the two-meter tall bipeds have been observed being deployed as foot soldiers, equipped with odd hand-held projectile launchers that fire metallic bullets without the use of gunpowder. To Hold the Line The time for action has come, for the first time in recorded history humanity’s fighting machines will clash with those from the red planet. The first generation of these colossi, built by nations around the globe, have been gathered along the French line to prepare to push the Martians back off the mainland. Housed in the mighty airship Thunderchild, this will be a deciding battle! Name: Age: Gender: Job: Country of Origin: Appearance: Personality: History: Equipment: Fighting Machine: Designation: Country of Origin: Crew: Description: Weapons: Traits: Rules of Engagement Listen to your GMs (krayz, grav). Don’t metagame, godmod, or otherwise exceed the limits of fair play. Get your profiles approved first. BZP rules apply. Arabella Fortunado and the Damocles Erich Volk and the König Arnault Mongouse and La Charlatane
  10. If one had declared to the masses that, in the final years of the nineteenth century, this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than that of man, and yet just as mortal, none would take such a claim seriously. None would believe that as men busied themselves about their worldly concerns they were being scrutinized and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinize the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency, the people of this world scurried to and fro across this globe, going about their little affairs, serene and ignorant in their assured dominion over the material- probably not unlike the infusoria under the microscope. No one gave a thought to the older worlds of space as sources of incontrovertible human danger; or, if they did, thought of them only to dismiss the idea of life upon them as impossible or improbable. It is curious to recall some of the mental habits of those departed days- a bygone age where terrestrial men of greater imagination pondered whether there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet, across the gulf of space, there brooded minds that are to ours, as ours are to that of beasts; intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, appraising our world with envious eyes, slowly and carefully drawing their plans against us. And early in the twentieth century came the great disillusionment. The year is 1903, the Great Martian War rages on. Five years ago, mankind received a bloody and violent answer to the eternal question - "are we alone?". Indeed, the first cylinder falling from the heavens was a surprise to all, but markedly was only the tip of the proverbial spear. The merciless attack on humanity itself that soon followed was destruction the likes of which no person had seen - a terrible assault from cold, vile intelligences which shook even the greatest of human nations to their very core. Like lightning and rolling thunder the otherworldly invaders struck across Great Britain from the landing sites of their silvery vessels, sweeping south past the great city of London and up to the furthest reaches of Scotland in the north. In a matter of days, there was naught but destruction and desolate wasteland as far as the eye could see - that is, if any poor soul had managed to survive in the wake of the invader's advance. Even still, this was not the extent of the invaders’ insidious designs, and even now the Martians conspire to leave absolutely nothing for us. However, the mettle and resolve of humanity is poised to determine if our home is something that we shall give up so easily... To this day, the nations of the world push back! Equipped with unbroken spirit and boundless valor, brave soldiers make use of mechanical marvels reverse-engineered from the Martians’ own fighting machines. These mighty few, clad in iron and possessing prodigious courage, may yet turn the tide. Terrae Impetus Retro. The State of Things The British Empire Defeated! So said the headlines of newspapers across the world during the winter of 1898, not but a day after contact had fully and completely been lost with England. Only a few short months into the Martian invasion and one of the most powerful nations the world had ever seen was no more. Some nations celebrated, others quietly gathered their military forces, but many simply watched, unwilling to acknowledge or unaware of the danger that the otherworldly beings posed to them. This complacency was only compounded when the Martian’s advance simply stopped at the English Channel, and for two long years it seemed as though that was the extent of their assault on humanity. Of course, none sat idly by during this time. The remnants of the British Empire, formerly scattered across the world, lobbied for the retaking of their homeland. Others, such as France and Germany, made quick work of snatching up what precious few pieces of the Martian technology could be acquired for their own use. The lack of activity looked to some as though the Martians had simply left, gone to return to their planet. Some academics even went as far as to say that the Martians had been wiped out by the Earth’s own microscopic biosphere, for surely they could not have developed an immunity to Earthly diseases as mankind had over the millennia. Whatever the reason for the pause in action, it was not to last. In early Spring, after the turn of the century, the second Martian advance began with their fighting machines emerging from the waters of the channel onto the shores of Belgium and the Netherlands. There was little forewarning to prepare a defense, and in the time it took for the powers on mainland Europe to marshal their forces the aliens had made it far as the French and German borders to the East and West, leaving swathes of destruction in their wake. It has been three years since then, and while ironclad battleships from the world's nations hold the line from the Channel itself, landlocked defenses are slowly beginning to weaken as the Martians continue their unrelenting assault. But man has not been idle, and their newest weapon may be just what turns the tide of this war of worlds... Ferreis Induti No later than the first sightings of the Martian’s massive mechanical beasts did the minds of man begin to work, wildly speculating and postulating exactly how the various mechanisms by which the fighting machines of the otherworldly invaders operated. After the first of the tripodal giants were felled, its components were hurriedly collected and whisked away to nations that coveted them by enterprising individuals for these theories to be validated and amended. At first, various nations only received bits and pieces of the Martian’s strange technology, and information that could be gleaned from the disparate parts was fractured and incomplete at best. Indeed, it took the Martians’ second brutal assault for the inventors and engineers of the defending nations to come together and truly unlock the secrets of the Martians’ greatest weapon. Thus soon after, mankind saw fit to create fighting machines of their own. With boilers and reciprocating engines powering dynamos, these man-made titans leverage the magnetic-mechano limbs derived from the Martian technology to achieve motion. However, the more esoteric of Martian technologies have proven to still be beyond our grasp for the time being - the heat ray in particular vexing the brightest of minds. Though not as large as the hundred-foot tall behemoths they are designed to fight against, a dedicated and determined crew gives these machines an edge. Demons from Mars Much has been written of the men from Mars in the years since they landed in their gleaming pods, though as of yet no live individual has yet to be found. From the bodies recovered from their destroyed fighting machines, the true face of the enemy has been closely studied. The Martians themselves are large, with oily grey bodies about the size of a bear. They possess no limbs like the kind familiar to us - instead, a plethora of long, whip-like tendrils surround the area underneath their V-shaped mouths. Two large eyes, round and lidless, are perhaps the only familiar aspect of their peculiar biology. Internally they appear to possess no organs save an enlarged brain which occupies the majority of their body. How such an organism is able to live and function is beyond our science thus far. More striking, however, are the great machines they pilot. Approximately 100 feet tall, the machines stand atop three spindly legs with which they glide across all manner of terrain. These legs attach to a girdle of sorts that is secured to the body of the machine itself, with a mass of writhing tentacles extending down from the bottom of the machine. A hood caps the very top of the body, while the weaponry - such as the heat ray - that the Martians utilize is held at the ends of the tentacles. It should be noted that there are a secondary, distinctive subspecies of Martians, separate from those who occupy the tripods. While the large, cephalopoid creatures are undoubtedly the masterminds of the invasion, a second, subservient species has also been observed. Peculiarly, they are two-armed and two-legged, a form that at great distance could be mistaken for mankind itself. Indeed, it was initially thought that these creatures might be some twisted abomination of humanity, until specimens could be properly investigated. These are no humans - with brittle siliceous skeletons and long limbs which attach to an overly rotund body, it appears that without wearing the form-fitting, metallic space-suits provided to them by their masters, they would be crushed by the increased gravitation of our world. Beginning with the launch of the second wave of Martian assaults, the two-meter tall bipeds have been observed being deployed as foot soldiers, equipped with odd hand-held projectile launchers that fire metallic bullets without the use of gunpowder. To Hold the Line The time for action has come, for the first time in recorded history humanity’s fighting machines will clash with those from the red planet. The first generation of these colossi, built by nations around the globe, have been gathered along the French line to prepare to push the Martians back off the mainland. Housed in the mighty airship Thunderchild, this will be a deciding battle! Name: Age: Gender: Job: Country of Origin: Personality: History: Equipment: Fighting Machine: Designation: Country of Origin: Crew: Description: Weapons: Traits: Rules of Engagement Listen to your GMs. Don’t metagame, godmod, or otherwise exceed the limits of fair play. Get your profiles approved first.
  11. IC: Lii [Odaiba, Outskirts] She felt the blow land more in the impact felt through her bones than any sort of indication of pain or disruption of her inner balanced flame, adrenaline and the voracious fire of Rage doing much to dull what senses were liabilities. Or maybe it just hurt about as much as it could already. Even so, the impact of the Toroshu's bladed hand against her thigh deflected the remainder of the momentum in her kick downward, and Lii snapped her foot downward. The Imperial's step had closed their stance, and there was a brief moment where the two facing mask to mask, Lii's eyes locking to Nihonei's for the fleeting fraction of a second that it lasted before Lii's forward momentum carried her past. Her right foot now firmly back on the soil, Lii picked up her left in a roundabout arc backwards that carried her body clockwise to once again blade her stance towards her opponent at an off angle. Not that it lasted long, as her left foot hardly tapped the ground before snapping upward again into a roundhouse which came at a sharp angle up towards the Toroshu's ribs.
  12. this looks absolutely rad, if i can manage what new stuff i have coming up i might make something for this.
  13. IC: Dehkaz [Po-Koro, Sentinel Headquarters] Dehkaz comfortably pivoted on his heel as the familiar voice came up to greet him, and he welcomed Krayn's arrival with an easy nod, his eyes momentarily flicking to the parcels that his friend carried. Electing to ask about them later, instead he gave a small shrug of sorts with a reply of, "Had things to do, we'll catch them on the way out of the village." As if on cue, Skyra wandered towards the two toa. Her posture was... subdued in a manner completely uncharacteristic for the normally bubbly toa of Air. She looked like she lost a fight and had one heck of a hangover. Considering it had barely been any stretch of time since Dehkaz had last saw her, the difference was striking. Krayn, understandably, offered her some coffee. "Tera should be around this time of day, though she may be out in the training yard," the toa of Magnetism tilted his head back to the door which they stood outside. "But we'll see." OOC: @Krayzikk @Snelly @Light
  14. IC: Dehkaz [Po-Wahi, Po-Koro, Sentinel HQ] The stone slab doors of the granite bastion which stood stalwart over Po-Koro’s inner ring rotated open with an assertive thud as they revolved along their axis. A gust of hot, dry air accompanied Dehkaz as he stepped into the Sentinel headquarters, the Fa-Toa giving a nod to the guards situated on either side of the entrance that greeted him with a salute. While the building had grown along with the expanding Koro, his destination was one which had stayed constant throughout it all. As such, it only took a few short minutes for Dehkaz to navigate through the stone halls to reach it. Two quick knocks on the door with an armored knuckle announced his presence outside Tera’s office.
  15. IC: Arms [Khy'Barr] In a nearly sagely gesture the behemoth’s triplicate gaze blinked slowly in recognition of the alchemical advice, his ponderous skull dipping in a nod as he accepted the vials, each of which looking worryingly fragile in his grasp. With a motion, the crystalline capsules disappeared into a pouch on his amalgam of armoring, and the warlord stood to what amounted to a height that the ceiling would allow. He regarded his assembled court of Khy;Barr one by one, as if mentally cataloging those which he planned on leaving with… or perhaps judging who would survive the trip. “Come,” his voice boomed, reverberating against the stone slab walls of Deuandra’s abode beneath the mountain, “Many nights before rest.” And at that he was moving, a single stride taking him nearly to the door of the vaporous den, and then another taking him down to the maze of stone passageways and stairs which dotted the interior of the mountainside. His march onward, so assured, was as if the titan was guided by a marker visible only to himself, towards a destination and for an objective which he alone was privy to.
  16. IC: Dehkaz [Po-Koro] His boots kicking up small clouds of dust from the sandy, hard-packed streets of Po-Koro, Dehkaz made his way towards the older section of the village. The stone wall, formerly the outer limits of the village as he had first seen it, loomed overhead. Now with the constant foot traffic going through what would’ve been locked gates it was considerably less imposing a structure than before, though old repairs and elemental blast marks were still visible on its weathered surface. Passing through the walls and into the central section of the Koro within them his destination was visible up ahead, the slab-sided granite structure just barely clearing the tops of the buildings around it. * * * While he had not taken a direct route towards the headquarters, as evident by the grilled Husi he’d acquired along the way, it wasn’t long until the captain had reached the geometric building.
  17. IC: Lii [Outskirts, Makeshift Arena] She stood, eyes fixed on the Toroshu standing before her, only six paces apart. Her eyes were intense, yes, but surprisingly clear given the fire which had burned within them only moments before. Her stance, for it couldn't be mistaken for anything else, was set with her left foot positioned just in front of the other, crystalline armored boot on her back foot sinking slightly deeper into the soil. Hands raised. The Grandmaster had only just cleared the area and expressed his impatience when she began moving. There was no flourish, no excess motion, pure intention. Lii crossed the intervening distance in nearly a single stride. Her step turned into a pivot, as her right foot planted firmly and began to rotate outward on the ball of her foot. Her left foot followed, and replaced the right in its grounded position as she pulled the other up- tensing up into the viciously fast side kick that snapped towards Nihonei's midsection. Her heel lead, pushing into her opponent's center of mass.
  18. IC: Dehkaz [Tech Emporium] "Excellent, if I'm not back by the time they're complete just have them sent to Sentinel HQ, same goes for Krayn's requests as well." With their equipment, both those bought and those ordered, paid for the toa of Magnetism stepped out of the interior of the shop and onto the dusty streets of the koro of Stone once again. He took a moment to glance around, absently checking both his person and surroundings for weapons that he didn't bring with him and prying eyes that didn't exist in an old habit that he was finding rather difficult to break. "I'm headed for headquarters," Dehkaz told Skyra, who was sounding like she was going to take a slight detour, "See if I can't run into the others along the way." With a nod, Dehkaz began towards deeper into the stone-walled village itself.
  19. IC: Dehkaz [Tech Emporium] Dehkaz raised an eyebrow at the display taking place before him, his expression partway between disbelief and impressed silence. Even so, he turned towards Farzan. "I've got a request of my own, not too complex. Four armor plates, about so big," The captain held his hands about half a bio apart, "With a pair of ferrous strips on the back; top and bottom. Weight isn't an issue, I'd like them tough enough to stand up to real heavy hits." He glanced over at Skyra. "...And I'll take one of the larger wrist grapples too."
  20. IC: Dehkaz [Tech Emporium] Dehkaz's gaze lingered on the doorway for a moment after Krayn exited, the faint hints of the midday sun cutting through the gaps in the frame and sandblasted wooden surface. Lost in thought. Not for very long however, as Skyra's question, the toa of Air ever so animated, pulled him from his reverie. He glanced down to the unfamiliar Po-matoran as she spoke, a bit nervously and taken aback by the understandably unexpected question, before returning his attention to the excitable Le-toa. "I still have a few things I want to discuss with Farzan, but I tell you what," Dehkaz extracted two of his knives from beneath his duster, flipping one in his hand to present it hilt-first to Skyra, "If you can knock my knife out of the beam over there, I'll get whatever gadget you pick out from here for you." His sentence was punctuated with the sound of the first knife solidly embedding itself in one of the thick structural wooden beams running up from the floor, in a direction away from the entrance and hopefully away from anyone who would happen to walk in.
  21. IC: Lii [Odaiba, Outskirts] The yellow-armored martial artist bristled, and she crossed her arms, regarding the Toroshu with a gaze that burned. She had the countenance of a cornered beast, it didn't take a great deal of thinking to recognize when she'd been maneuvered into a corner. "Fine," She spoke after a moment of consideration, though certainly not hesitation, "I accept."
  22. IC: Dehkaz [Po-Koro, Tech Emporium] The toa of Magnetism seemed satisfied with that response, clapping the Po-matoran on the shoulder with a, "Sounds good Jokaro, you'll have plenty of time. I'll come check in once we're through with my ship's shakedown cruise." Dehkaz gave him once last nod, before leaving the inventor to his work and making his way back towards the front of the establishment.
  23. IC: Lii [Odaiba, Outskirts] Lii watched with a careful intensity as the Toroshu worked among her charges, an readiness about her that failed to dissipate even as tensions seemed to relax somewhat. She bristled slightly as the Toroshu approached her, obviously with the intention of tending to her own wound. The martial artist's eyes met the Eiyu's, and for a moment a flame burned beneath them. It was a moment before Lii moved from her state of near motionlessness, slowly shaking her head to decline as politely as she seemed able to. Wordlessly.
  24. IC: Dehkaz [Po-Koro, Tech Emporium] The toa of Magnetism's eyebrow raised an eyebrow, before giving a half shrug. "If material is a roadblock then I can procure some assets from the Sentinels beyond just monetary, the guard knows who Farzan is, just let him know to mention Commander Dehkaz."
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