Wotz

screw the rules IC: Kuhrin A skeletal hand took the mask delicately from Ferron's grasp. It appeared that he was behaving more respectful towards somebody else's property, but his soft handling was more due to his rapidly depleting life force. Darkness was beginning to creep in at the corners of his vision; the sound of the crashing waves was fading; his senses numbing; the world slowly draining away into the abyss, and him with it, into the darkness, the ever-present, welcoming darkness, oh how he had missed it come to me my master i belong to you i yearn for you the darkness the beautiful darkness- Kuhrin slammed the mask onto his face. His mind cleared. Still, though, he was frail, weak. This mask could prolong his death, but only the Mask of Healing could repair his deathly form. He was now so close, so near to his restoration. He only needed to turn the key and the gates would open to his next life. "Do it." With a final expulsion of his reluctance, Ferron activated the mask. At first, it began to flicker and glow slightly, as if it was just whirring into life. Little streams of healing light flowed through the air to Kuhrin, settling on the surface of his armour and organic tissue, which in turn began to glow. Then all of a sudden, the mask exploded into action. Kuhrin burst into blue flames, forcing him to his feet as his muscles tightened and grew. The mask itself blazed like the sun, white light blasting from it in a constant stream of restoration energy. The rust retracted and disappeared; his posture straightened; the chunks and cracks closed. Ferron, taken aback by the sudden blast erupting from the mask he wore, tried to switch it off, or tear it from his face, but it was no use - the heat of the blast was too much for him to touch with his fingers, and his will to shut off its power was not responding for some reason. It had started, and it was going to finish. Tilting his blazing head to the sky, Kuhrin drew a long and unobstructed breath, the first of its kind he had taken in a very long time. Then, much to the horror of Zuriana, he let out a shrieking, maniacal cry, the likes of which sent a shiver down her spine. Enhanced by his re-accessed powers over sound, the scream rang through the bay, sending his echoing insanity far over the horizon. The light grew brighter and brighter until it blinded all present. Zuria fell to her hands and knees, shaking from the horror of what had just happened. He vision slowly began to clear as she looked up, to gaze upon the magnificent new form that stood before them. It was Kuhrin, as he had been long ago. His armour was clear and shiny, his eyes a bright lime where they had once been a murky green. With the addition of Ferron's mask, he looked to be a new man. But within, the madness was worse than it had ever been. His sudden return to strength had inspired within him the desire for a terrible vengeance, to reflect his own newfound power and glory. Zuriana gasped, drawing his attention back to the two mere mortals standing before him. He looked them over for a second, as if not remembering who they were. Then, with a sudden realisation, he laughed. His old, murderous cackle, back to good health and thirsty for blood. Remembering his new mask, his face darkened with a sick glee. In one stride, he had dodged Ferron and gone straight for the Matoran, picking her up by the throat and holding her out over the water. "Ah, Zuriana. To think you are yet living the same pointless little life you always have. Still mothering the world, nursing it to good health - well, look what your nursing brought about this time!" He giggled again, beholding his regenerated form. "A new life for your old friend Kuhrin!" He smiled dryly, his grip beginning to tighten around her neck. "Give Noka my regards." Zuriana panicked. "Kuhrin, wait! Gak - she's not dead!" "Not dead? Not dead?!" Slowly, his head rotated on its axis to glare at Ferron with a vicious smile. "Well, jury, do we call her bluff? Should she die, should she live? Choose your words wisely, Toa of iron."

Do I know this Toa?

OOC: Good idea. IC: Kuhrin Kuhrin spat out a dense liquid coloured like vomit and blood, which seemed to bubble and react with the rock like acid. "Not the Mask of Healing, you imbecile-" the corpse burst into a coughing fit, bringing forth more of the sickening liquid and doubling him over. "You need to wear that to heal me. But its effects -koff- won't work on me without a mask on my face. I'm sor -koff- sorry, but you're going to have to give me your -koff- your mask, just for this process." XXXXXXXXXX IC: Zuriana Zuria nodded vacantly, her eyes blankly staring at the bodies of Kuhrin's men. "Yeah, just... Y'know, just shaken." The Matoran looked up at Ferron and forced a smile. She was still there, just. "Yeah, I'm good. Let's go, Ferron." Ferron gave his assent, and the pair marched off into the unknown to pursue the task they had been given. OOC: To Onu-Wahi! Also, flashbacks are now over. We can go ahead and focus on the Kuhrin business now.

IC: Zuriana We walk on, and before long, we're back at the rocky shoreline of Onu-Wahi. Ferron leads me along the shore to a little spit of rock jutting out of the main coast into a bay filled with razor sharp rocks. Evidently this is where Kuhrin had agreed to meet. Sure enough, there, sitting among the rocks, is a frail, corpse-like figure, shrouded in a torn cloth that fails in its objective to make him appear more complete. Chunks of him are missing, the knife wound from his final battle with Krell evidently infected, the rust on his armour at the worst it's ever been. I wonder how he has remained alive, after all this time. He's facing away from us, his eyes fixed on the crashing waves. "You really... Cut it close... Didn't you..." Kuhrin wheezes. He turns to look at us, and to our horror his face is maskless and mutilated. Nearby, his mask lies in two pieces, the little crack that had always been present at its bottom finally having completed its journey to the top. "Can't survive... Without mask..." He reaches out and points a quivering finger at Ferron. XXXXXXXXXX Ferron had underestimated his own strength - one of the henchmen's throats were crushed, killing him instantly, and the other was having a lot of trouble forcing air in and out of his lungs. The Bo-Toa turned tail and sprinted into the darkness, leaving his fellows at the mercy of the Toa of iron. Zuria peeled herself off the ground to stagger over and watch the proceedings.

IC: Zuriana "Ferron," I begin, but nothing follows. Over two thousand years of being a mother, giving advice to anyone who came for it, and for some reason this one story has moved me in such a way that words, the one thing I could win wars with, have failed me. I just don't know what to say. I'd put my arm round him if I could reach that high. Instead, he'll have to make do with a little leg-hug. "It's alright," I say at last. "You don't have to be alone anymore." XXXXXXXXXX The Toa shrugged. Whirling around, he launched Zuria down the tunnel, where she skidded to a halt and lay in the dimness. "Kill him." Suddenly, action. The two spear-armed Toa stepped forward simultaneously to skewer Ferron between them, but-

IC: Zuriana "I don't believe you did," I reply, expecting the worst. XXXXXXXXXX Drenduin was killed before the second arrow even struck. He was frozen in his place, standing straight with his arms out to the side and the shaft sticking out of his chest, the shock visible on his face in the moments before the second bolt planted itself between his eyes, its force toppling him to the ground, where he lay very, very still. Meanwhile, vines shot from the ground and coiled themselves around Ferron's arms and legs, originating from the Toa of Plantlife who had his blade to Zuria's neck. Two more Toa of Earth and Air stepped from the shadows, pointing spears at the Toa of Iron.

IC: Zuriana He might as well have been - it feels like he was. I shake my head. "He was adopted - I never could quite grasp relationships and all that," I reflect. "But when I first saw him... He might as well have been my own flesh and blood. It was like he had always been there, waiting for his lost mother." XXXXXXXXXX "Then kill me too," Drenduin demanded, holding his arms out to his sides. "Prove what kind of man you are, that I might die for what I believe in, and you would kill." Zuria backed away, wishing there was something she could do to help. Before anything crossed her mind, she was silently snatched from behind, her mouth covered and a knife to her throat.

IC: Zuriana I shrug, the corners of my mouth incapable of staying flat at Ferron's question. "Well, he's a Le-Matoran for starters," I relay from the blurred images in my mind. "Y'know, with the teal and green... He wears a Kakama, or he did the last time I saw him. I named him Kaman, or Whakamanawa, meaning 'blessing'. He was impossible as a child, always dashing off, always curious. But he was beautiful. He was my son." It's hard, when you're telling someone these things, to leave out the ugly parts. But it can be pleasant just to remember the good times, because those memories are often the only thing with the power to keep the dark ones from hurting you. Still, we walked on. XXXXXXXXXX "You speak the truth, Toa," Drenduin hissed, his blackened teeth on show through parched lips. "Kuhrin's mortal form was destroyed, but he lives on- Through us!" Suddenly, a spiralling column of water erupted from the ground beneath Ferron with enough force to send him flying into the tunnel ceiling.

OOC: A Wotz is never late, nor is he early. He posts precisely when he means to. Except in this instance, and for that I apologise. IC: Zuriana "...Sorry, I..." How do I say something like this out loud? It's always been there, always haunting me, always overhanging with its pain. But now to say it aloud, it feels like I'm downgrading it, like it doesn't matter as much when it's in the simple forms of mortal speech. Perhaps that's why I've never told anyone before... Not even Krell. Or maybe I didn't tell him because he filled the gap, fitted the emotional keyhole. "Ferron," I croak at last. "I have a son." XXXXXXXXXX The pair of them paced down the highway under what could best be described as cover of darkness, although the phrase loses considerable meaning in an underground city. As Onu-Koro slept, they slipped out through one of the lesser-used passages out of the village. From the moment they had left her door, Zuria couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. It constantly felt like some thief or killer had their sights locked on them. Every dancing shadow and flickering flame was a threat, and not a soul could be trusted. They walked in silence, making things all the more uncomfortable for her in particular. However, Zuriana's paranoia was far from poorly founded. In fact, they had been followed right from the exit. Kuhrin's assassins daren't have entered the village for fear of persecution and had tucked themselves away in the blackness of lesser-used tunnels, of which's use they had foreseen. Thanks to his padded shoes, Drenduin's feet made barely a sound louder than bat's wings as he crept up behind Ferron, knife at the ready and matt-black armour rendering him virtually invisible. After Ferron and Zuriana turned a corner, he slipped forth and grabbed the Toa of iron by the shoulder, making to stab his prey.

IC: Zuriana We walk for some time in silence, both of us wrapped up in our own thoughts. Mine centre mainly around our safety - do we have enough water; are we being watched; is that shape on the horizon a threat - y'know, that sort of thing. I'm willing to assume Ferron's mind is on supposedly 'more important' matters, but to me, Kuhrin's agenda is just as dire as getting sand underneath my armour. That's the difference between me and him, between Toa and Matoran. We still seem to understand each other, though, somehow. That's the magic of existence. No matter their differences, people can always communicate somehow, there's always something that connects them. With me and Ferron, I guess it's that we've both lost a lot of people. We've both lived too long to escape the omnipresence of death. I can trust him. Me and him really are very similar in the manner I described. Perhaps I've finally found someone to confide in. "Ferron..." I begin. He looks to me expectantly, but I shake my head. "Never mind." XXXXXXXXXX Zuria nodded. The fear was beginning to leak out of its protective shell and into her eyes. The thought of going back there, and seeing that place again, disturbed her. The clash of swords, the whirlwind of mindnumbing sound and sand and pain and suffering and death- No, she told herself. You have to go back. You have to face your fears. Taking a deep breath, she nodded again, this time more confidently. "We should probably leave as soon as possible, then. Don't want to keep the killers waiting."

IC: Zuriana I do as he tells me, looking on in awe as Ferron's pickaxe comes crashing down on the rock, smashing it to pieces. Fragments dart in all directions, forcing me to duck to the ground. When the shower of broken stone is finally finished, I slowly rise, to see that there before my friend is a mask of healing, gripped by the rock and poking its abnormal facial features into the air. It's dusty, but otherwise in perfect condition. The expression upon it is shocked, as if we have just caught whoever formerly owned it in the shower. It would be comical, if I didn't have an incling that this was the expression of whoever Kuhrin killed to get it. Pushing such thoughts aside, I move closer, looking between it and Ferron to see which would move first. XXXXXXXXXX Zuria forced herself to be the calm and comforting one, forced away the fear and shivering that was trying to clamber onto her. Kuhrin was alive. His black-armoured henchmen were still on the loose. But worst of all, Ferron was terrified. It was down to her to keep things under control. "It's alright," she told him softly. "We'll fix this, just like we always have. All we have to do is get him this mask, and he'll help us, and everything will be back to normal. "Where did Kuhrin say this mask was?"

IC: Zuriana "It looks to me like someone was trying to dig into the rock," I respond, lightly brushing against the rock's scars with the backs of my fingers. Pressing my ear against the rock face, I rap on it with my knuckles. It sounds... "...Hollow. Can you make a pickaxe, Ferron?" XXXXXXXXXX Kuhrin. Zuria's look of concern for Ferron's sanity turned to a look of concern for his safety. She calmly pulled up a stool of her own and sat facing him. "Calm down. Take a few breaths, then speak," after waiting a moment for him to do so, Zuria went on. "Now, remember, Kuhrin's dead and gone. He can't hurt you or me, okay?"

IC: The Temple Rynekk was greeted by small entranceway formerly lit by a now-deceased pair of torches, with what looked like some kind of primitive reception desk off to the side, all in the same architectural style as the passageways before. To its left lay a rotted wooden door on the ground, clean off its hinges. The doorway itself was cracked and misshapen, firstly from its age, but also from what looked like some kind of deliberate abuse. A low hanging mist creeped through the doorway, as if sensing Rynekk's presence. It slithered along the ground and coiled around his ankles, shifting and turning as he walked through it. All around, the floor began to be totally coated in the gas, yet it didn't seem to lose any of its density. The Toa of stone felt compelled to go through to doorway. To his surprise, beyond it was a huge cavern which yawned in front of him, a vast, arch-shaped cave, stalactites stretching down from the ceiling in a vain attempt to reach the ground. For the most part it was otherwise unremarkable, except for the walls. Spanning two flat, parallel sides of the cavern were two huge tapestries of utter beauty. Stacked up like the spines of books on a shelf were dozens and dozens of rectangles, all holding some kind of simple image depicting distinct, simplified humanoids and creatures. An axe-wielding Matoran being stabbed through the chest by some kind of lizard; a bat-like being climbing from a grave; a huge titan and a ghostly figure being crushed by falling rocks. Rynekk couldn't even see them all. at regular intervals, they were interceded by torch sconces to light them up. What was perhaps most interesting is that while the wood his decayed and the stone had eroded, the carvings remained as clear, deep cuts into the stone. The mist on the ground was unable to climb the walls for some reason, and was unable to climb further than Rynekk's shins.

IC: Zuriana I can't help but smile at Ferron's abilities. There are some things in life that you just never get used to, and one of them is seeing Toa powers. It's especially impressive seeing his own arm transform into something completely different - who'd ever think you could have a shovel for a hand? The world is full of surprises even at my age. I watch him dig for a few moments, then decide to make myself useful. Looking around, I find that these old tins used to have some kind of brown sloshy stuff in them. I'd like to say it looks like some kind of food, but it looks more like what food becomes, if you catch my drift. This and the shapes of the boulders and the types of Rahi skeletons lying around imply that someone may have lived here, once, outside in the desert. Kuhrin, perhaps? These stains of blood certainly could belong to him. It has suddenly come to my attention he perceptive I just was. Maybe that's leftover from... Before... The cliff surrounding the little enclosure has an odd texture to it in one spot. Looking closer, I find that they're chisel marks, as if someone was trying to dig into the wall. "Ferron," I call without turning around. "Come and look at this." XXXXXXXXXX Zuriana's door sprang open shortly. After a brief silence, Zuria recoiled slightly in shock. "Ferron! What a pleasant surprise!"

IC: Zuriana Sand: it's kinda like earth, except it gets in your eyes more, and it sort of glows from the sunlight. Stuff glowing, in particular the entire terrain for miles around, is never too enjoyable when you have hyper-sensitive eyes. How Onu and Po Wahi came to be right next to each other is a mystery to me. I suppose light and darkness are always much closer to each other than you think. That's one of the many things I learned from Krell. Something else he taught me is that sometimes a bit of adventure is good for you, even if there is a good chance you don't survive. I'll never forget the day my life was flipped on its head and almost ended as a result. But I don't regret anything, not even Krell's... Parting. Because I still helped him, I think. I helped him re-find himself and confront his past, which I suppose in a way allowed him to die in peace. Let's face it, Kuhrin was always going to find him in the end. At least this way Krell had an honourable end. And besides, those moments of danger were really rather exciting. Still, though, I miss him. We only knew each other for a short time, but it still feels like I've lost a family member - and believe me, I know that feeling well. I loved him, and now I can only love a memory. But I suppose all that I've lost before his blunted the blade of this a bit, but nothing can ever stop its wounds. I think Ferron took it the worst. He's alright now, but I spoke to him as we were leaving Onu-Koro, and it looks like it hit him hard. But enough of my monologuing, time to get to the action at hand, as they say. We've been in Po-Wahi searching for a mask that Kuhrin wants (that's right, Kuhrin - I'll get to that later) for some bargain-y type thing. I'm mainly just in it to help out Ferron, because I feel I haven't really seen a lot of him since he stopped off at my hut about a month or so ago, and because I feel like he deserves it, for being a great Toa. Anyway, we've just about found the place marked on the map, but I can't see any signs of a mask of healing - just lots of scattered bones and boulders and rusty tins. Immediately thoughts are flying through my head: is it a trap? Should I expect a bag over my head at any moment? Are we in the right place? Mata-Nui forbid, has Ferron gone crazy and led me to a special place to kill me, or worse? Then it hits me. "Ferron," I ask, looking up at the Toa of iron. "Did you bring a shovel?"

The rain in Po has stopped now, right?

Thompson has a beard? The whole Liam catch-up thing reminds me of LOST. As does like, everything else in life ;_; Ermahgerd a character in fiction wearing the same clothes all the time is actually explained. I grant you one pat on the back, my good sir. Why was Johnson so shocked at Necromancy being found in Ireland?

IC: ??? "Can't you see?" The stranger asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm you. Your shadow, cast in the light. You didn't think one so opaque could get away with not having a dark side." The reflection's expression darkened, still with that viscous smirk. His quartz-like eyes, the smoke; his down-to-every-scratch-realistic body, the mirrors. There was no way this could be real, and yet here Rynekk was. The foul stench was real, the room and the darkness was real, the identical copy of himself was real. All of it was, by some sick chance, real. All of a sudden, the double waved his hand and Rynekk's arms were magnetised to his sides. "I strongly suggest you do not bring the ceiling down on us, my twin. I think we both know that after all you've done in your lifetime, wherever you're going can't be nice. Especially after bargaining with the life of Tadris, an innocent - not to go into all your dark deeds in days gone by. What do you say?" He asked, as if some choice was being presented.

IC: ??? The light of Rynekk's eyes revealed a satisfied grin forcing its way across the stranger's face. The deathly eyes flared as he withdrew slightly, prepared to answer something, at least. "The map," he began, pacing back and forth just in front of the light, revealing a silhouette that gave the same impression of familiarity as the other hints of his appearance did, "is what I spent many moons calculating. It triangulates the exact location of a temple which has been kept hidden from me for my whole life. What is inside the temple I am not entirely certain, but I know for sure that it is significant. "The plan itself actually largely involves you finding the secrets of this place and others like it. I would have preferred to have you know as little as possible, as I thought it would make you more compliant if you didn't know we wanted Tadris to live. But since you just threatened to kill him - and, even worse, yourself - it seems I am left with no other options. "You are important to my 'plot' (as you put it), because the stars have told me you are important. And because, quite by coincidence, well..." The being stepped back into the light, to reveal what could be described as a confusing sight. There, standing in the spotlight, was a Toa who looked identical to Rynekk in almost every way, save for the ghoulish eyes and dark coloured armour. Rynekk's shadowy double raised his arms out to the sides as if about to take a bow. "That answer your questions?"

OOC: We now return to the Rynekk and Stendhal show! IC: ??? Some time ago... "Yes, Tadris is alive and well," croaked the voice in the shadows, as if he had read Rynekk's mind. "I'm afraid you aren't to see him just yet, however." The figure's proximity to the light showed he was slowly moving towards the Toa, now. "There are a lot of things you may not see at this point. Myself, being one. But of course, not doing what you're told is something you're quite educated in, isn't that right? You who backed away into the light, who tries so hard to right his wrongs. You who can't even bring himself to follow a simple map. I thought you could do that for me, Rynekk. I have much better things to do than talk to you, but it seems I must take drastic action." Suddenly, the being was right in front of him, the breath from his nostrils cold, the gaze from his freakish, unblinking eyes eerie in the dark. His voice was so quiet only at this distance could he be heard, as he grabbed Rynekk by the shoulders and forced him to listen. "Follow the map, or you will never get your friend back."

I'm loving that oil-on-water sky in the background. Very fitting for a Toa of Oil at sea. Except it should totally be lighter so we can see all them deets.

IC: ??? The being laughed. A long, drawn out chuckle, and not at all forced. Taking a wheezy intake of breath, he spoke again. "I don't think you understand. I wasn't talking about Stendhal." In his circular walk, the mysterious Toa brushed a little too close to the light, and a glint of an arm was seen, briefly, by the sun. It was dark and colourless, and, like the eyes, eerily familiar to Rynekk. The fingers were out of sight, but the slight twitch in the back of their hand implied they were flexing them. A nervous twitch? A subconscious habit? Did it have some kind of actual purpose? None of this would clear, but Rynekk was free to speculate.

IC: ??? A deep, grinding voice, not seeming to come from any direction in particular yet still clearly originating from the owner of the eyes, rang out in the chamber. "Don't worry," he said softly, the tone poisonous yet comforting. "The one you search for is quite alright." Footsteps could be heard tapping across the room as the angle of the eyes changed slightly, and the twin spheres floated through the darkness, circling Rynekk like a Muaka circles its prey.

OOC: You could say that, but I think Rynekk hit the nail on the head when he just called him a prick. IC: ??? As Rynekk descended down the shaft, the darkness grew thicker and thicker around him, until he could only see a black void. The only sign the stone below him was still moving - other than his mind telling it to do so - was the shudder below his feet of the edges scraping against the sides of the tunnel. Soon enough, however, the rumble disappeared, and the light from above formed a column reaching down to his stone platform. A thud eventually told him the ground had been reached. Not that it mattered, as the only light in the chamber was the spotlight shining down on him. There was an acrid smell here, like metal after heavy rainfall. Everything around seemed to be shrouded in this smelly darkness. There was no sign whatsoever that Stendhal, or, for that matter, anyone else had been here, At least, there wasn't until now. Twin orbs of crystallised, neon lavender, stained lime in the center, flared into life, illuminating what appeared to be the eyeholes of a mask. The eyes were strangely familiar to him. A tense silence hang in the air, as if this being was waiting for him to speak first.