Wotz

its quite obviously the rani

Anyone for assembling a troop of reinforcements from other villages? As in, someone else do the assembling and I'll tag along.

So here's a little thing I'm doing on the side, hence the simplistic style. Feel free to review or criticize or whatevs.

1 Strakk tore his axe from the now-deceased Sand Fox and slung it over his shoulder. The canine creatures were small, but enough to keep him from starving for perhaps a day or so. Besides, a few more days were all he needed to find his true prey. A small movement in the corner of his eye startled him. Instinctively, he darted behind a nearby chunk of metal and peered out from behind it. A Vorox crept into view, its gaze darting back and forth. It could smell him, and he knew it. The Vorox began to inspect the corpse of the Sand Fox, poking it with its spear cautiously. Silently, Strakk cursed himself for leaving behind his only food. Now he was going to fight for it. Leaping out from behind the metal and drawing his axe in one smooth motion, he let out a ferocious battle cry in an attempt to frighten the beast. Apparently, it only served to anger it; in retaliation, the Vorox let out a blood-curdling shriek of its own and charged forward. The opponents collided, but the Vorox’s strength was overpowering, and Strakk couldn’t prevent himself from falling back onto the ground, pinned down by the unprecedented weight of the beast. Not ready to give up, he bent his legs and pushed up, propelling the Vorox off of him. While it reeled from his defence, he snatched up his axe and raised it to make to the finishing blow- “Don’t.” What felt like a pair of protosteel bonds had gripped his wrists, preventing him from completing his strike. This was hardly what startled Strakk as he recognised the voice: “Malum?” “Yes,” came his gruff response. “Now drop the axe before I crush your wrists.” After a moment of hesitation, Strakk decided it was best not to resist against the warrior who had once almost killed him, especially in this energy-deprived state. Malum took it from his grasp and cast it on the ground. The former fire tribe Glatorian made a foreign sound, prompting the Vorox to pin Strakk’s arms to his sides. “You’ve been hunting me,” Malum said, standing over the axe as though it were a fallen soldier. “I don’t know why and I don’t care. “Because what you must understand is that you can never find me. I can only find you. And now that I have…” Malum raised his boulder of a foot and stomped on the axe blade, shattering it like glass. “You’re going to regret coming for me.” _________________________________________________________________________ Gali Nuva looked over at Tahu with concern for what seemed the fiftieth time in the past hour. The two had been roaming the wild hills and terrain of the planet in search of a location for New Atero, but Tahu seemed to be marvelling more at himself and his newfound power than anything. Every time Gali had spared a glance, he had been eyeing his gleaming golden armour and testing out small fractions of his powers. This time, it seemed, he had caught her looking. “Something troubling you, sister?” At first, she contemplated telling him of her fears, but she knew how irrational he could become when offended. And besides, it wasn’t as if he was wrong to be impressed with his new abilities. Perhaps if given some time, he would return to normal. “Nothing, brother. Just checking you’re-“ Gali froze as a flash of red in the trees behind Tahu sparked a sudden sense of déjà vu. “What is it?” Asked the Toa of fire, scanning the trees for danger. “I thought I saw… No, it’s impossible.” “What did you see?” Tahu asked, his voice growing fiery. Both Toa snapped into battle positions as a tree exploded into flames, sending a squadron of birds fleeing for their lives. Gali immediately doused the flames with a flash of torrential rain, transforming the fire into steam and fog, clouding the trees. Without their vision, the being would be forced to leave its cover. Sure enough, a red-armoured leg stepped out from the mist. Then another, then a body, then finally the whole creature was within sight- “Tahnok!” Tahu exclaimed. “But how?!” Gali frowned. Sometimes it paid to be right. “I don’t know, but apparently it seems to think it’s still on Mata-Nui.” “Time to put a stop to this.” Raising a hand, Tahu willed a small cyclone to appear around the Bohrok, sending it spinning into the air. Gali, summoning her Pakari, caught the machine creature in mid-air and slammed it to the ground, cracking open its head plate. She was shocked to find that there was no Krana hidden within. The Toa exchanged uncomfortable glances. Without a prime directive given by the Bahrag Queens, Bohrok without Krana would simply obey any task given to them. This meant that someone must have ordered it to cause destruction. “And that’s looking past the question of what a Bohrok is doing on Spherus Magna.” Pointed out Gali. When Tahu did not reply, she looked to see he appeared deep in thought. “Everything alright?” “Look how damaged it is.” He replied without looking up. The Tahnok was indeed battle scarred, with intense scorch marks, melted areas and chunks torn straight out, exposing the mechanical workings within. “It looks as though it’s been thrown through a furnace.” Gali observed. “Exactly. I think that may be a clue as to how it got here.” “What do you mean?” Finally, he met her gaze. “We should keep going. The Tahnok isn’t going anywhere, and we can come back for it if we need to. Our main priority is still finding a home for our people.” Gali nodded, and with one final disturbed glance at the fallen Bohrok, the two set off again. Behind them, the Tahnok’s sapphire eye flickered. _________________________________________________________________________ Stronius looked out over the lake with both satisfaction and bitterness. On the one hand, the planet had been restored to life and water was now in abundance. On the other hand, the Skrall had been battered into submission, their empire now reduced to scattered groups throughout the wilderness. The last three days had been spent camping beside this lake, awaiting word from their scouts of any other Skrall in the surrounding area. Not a single one of the scouts had returned as of yet, and Stronius suspected it would be a while before any sign of them would show. As if in response to his thoughts, Legato, his second in command, appeared at his side. “Stronius, sir.” “Speak.” “Two of the scouts, sir. They’ve found something.” “Show me.” Legato led Stronius to a tent on the edge of the camp, outside of which two more Skrall stood guard. Already he had an idea as to what they had found. Inside, the two Skrall scouts stood over a heavily damaged mechanical form. “Another one.” Stronius said, looking down at the creature in disgust. “This one had already been disabled, sir.” One of the scouts informed him. “Someone else had apparently found it a short distance from the crash site and fought it off, without realising its significance.” Stronius nodded. “Then whoever found it isn’t a Skrall, or they would have recognised the similarities between this and the Baterra.” “It’s odd, sir,” said Legato, examining the exposed inner workings of the creature. “What’s ‘odd’?” Stronius asked irritably. “That they’re so similar. The Baterra were already there when we found them, but these… These things are falling from the sky.” _________________________________________________________________________ Strakk spat out a mouthful of dirt as he pried himself from the floor of Malum’s cave. All around him, Vorox stared, gripping their primitive spears and grinding their razor sharp teeth. He could see it in their eyes that they desperately wanted to rip him apart, an invader in their land, but Malum had them under control, somehow. “I have something to show you, Strakk.” Malum taunted, grabbing him by the back of the neck. He struggled in vain as the stronger Glatorian dragged him across the cave to another chamber, which was left dark and unlit. Malum released him, and a huge stone slab moved into place to block the chamber entrance. Left in pitch darkness, Strakk stared into the shadows, and a pair of glowing ruby red eyes stared back. Review Topic

Azle, TX

OMGOGMOGMGOMGOMGOGM

IC: Wrehn "Um, yeah, I will," I reply, shuffling off the scene. "Thanks." I turn to give a hurried smile before making my way through the rubble out of the building.

IC: Wrehn Well, this is awkward. Best to play it cool. "No, uh, I think I'll be alright, it's just a scratch." I reply, making to walk away, whilst trying to shift my stance so as to hide the grenade.

IC: Wrehn Y'know siding with Grenade Girl? Yeah, no. I hear cover is a good thing to have when there's an exploding corpse nearby. Thus, I dive dramatically to safety as fragments of dead body and lethal explosive cut through the air above me. Other than a small colony of horrific gashes on my back and shoulder, I come out relatively unscathed. Well, physically, at least. As soon as I poke my head over the edge of the rock, her cold dead face rolls over and stares straight into my soul. The only thing worse than a dead person beckoning you into the empty beyond is probably getting forced to consume said dead person. So, yeah, other than my mental and physical scarring, I'm just fine. It isn't long before I pull myself together enough to leave my cover. The explosion apparently left the Ussalry in disarray, allowing me to sneak around the farthest reaches of the room to a short distance from the spot where she died. It is hear I find what I spotted from across the room: One of Grenade Girl's signature grenades. I can figure out how it works later, but now I have to escape the bank without being seen. Pocketing the grenade, I begin making my way back around the room towards the entrance.

I'd be raised on a protodermis farm and gain experience working in that sort of environment, then after I graduate from the University of Ga-Metru I'd go on to become a lab worker and a carver on the side until I got enough money to fulfill my dream of buying the role of Turaga from Dume and ruling the city. My dictatorship would last seven thousand years, expanding across the entire Matoran Universe, until I overthrew Mata-Nui himself and reformed Spherus Magna into a pilot-able planet which would become the flagship of my universe-conquering battle fleet. Although being a messenger would probably give me more free time, so I'll go for that.

IC: Wrehn Okay, who's the wise guy? I've spent the last what, two months planning this robbery, planning how I would get past the guards, how I'd get to the vaults without being seen, how I'd open them. I just got myself all hyped up and prepared for the greatest heist Mata-Nui has ever seen. Then finally I scamper across the rooftoops to find that on this one particular day I decided to do it, someone else just so happens to have gotten there first. And already they've managed to remove the front door and create a total scene, as if screaming: "Hey, random passers-by! Come and gather round as we discreetly rob this bank!" Typical. With due stealth I approach, sliding from the rooftop to a darkened alleyway, then through the remains of the banks entrance. There I duck just inside the door and stick to the wall, carefully evading the carnage before me, which is even more troubling than I could possibly have predicted. About five hundred thousand Ussalry Matoran are packed into the hall, fully armed and fighting furiously against- One guy? You're serious? Okay. So there's this one guy with grenades who must be a bit of a beast if he's holding out against five hundred thousand Ussalry Matoran. So either the Ussalry has started hiring off the streets or this is one insanely skilled Toa. Best to watch this play out before I take a side - if things start to tilt away from Grenade Guy I can always say I'm a journalist or something. The Toa throws away his eyepiece and rises, and I see that he isn't a Toa at all, but some kind of foreigner. Not only that, but he's a girl. A hot girl. Okay, I'm totally siding with Grenade Girl. Here goes nothing.

Where exactly is everyone involved in the bank robbery? Like, is it all happening directly outside the front door of the bank or is it off to the side, leaving the entrance open?

IC: Kahlynn ... "Y'know what?" Kahlynn began, running his fingers through the dust and watching it cascade between his fingers. "What?" Asked someone. "I think we killed it."

One of my characters was separated from his conjoined twin pre-game, so sort of.

IC: Kahlynn Despite the scorpion's disturbing lack of injury taken from attacks that could at least stun any normal Rahi, Kahlynn found satisfaction in that it did not seem to notice his presence. This allowed him to move on to step two. The jagged scales of the monster's back dug into his hands and thighs as he lifted himself into a semi-crawl and moved forward along its unnaturally long torso to its unnaturally large head. Even from upside down, it had a repulsive face that only served to encourage his desire to melt it off. Thus, he proceeded to dig his wrist blade into a gap in its armour to hold him in place, and begun the process. For a moment, his eyes flared blinding crimson, before an immense quantity of heat descended on the Jaga's head. Kahlynn could feel his sight growing weaker, but still pressed on, pouring waves and waves of heat from his eyes directly to the scaly scalp of the scorpion.

I like to think Makuta had some kind of barrier in place around the island that caused people to forget everything and get shipwrecked and what have you. Everyone after that just hates their past or something.

Quite a few, and another on the way if I continue to fight my laziness. (it's a condition i swear)

IC: Mephiles Mertz was a Matoran who enjoyed a smaller life than some. He wasn't the sort to be off on madcap adventures battling monsters or fighting for the fate of existence in the heart of darkness. Instead, he was perfectly content with his little life in his paradisal home in Le-Koro. Watching the stars from his window sill at night, with only the torchlight within to light his hut's simple interior, was enough to keep him satisfied. The nights in the jungle were warm and comforting, and the stars seemed to watch over the night as guardians of peace and quiet. His gaze drifting to the flowers by his side, who also observed the tranquil world outside, a smile spread across his face. Like most Matoran, his past had been plagued with darkness, the scars of which lived on to this day, and, outside of some miraculous occurrence, were not going to heal. However, while no amount of peace could regrow his hand, it did allow him to move on, and feel safe at last. Now he could sleep at night knowing the world outside was not ready to pounce on him at any moment. Such were his reflective thoughts on such a beautiful night. It was a rare stroke of luck that he was so oblivious of what was to come, as this time of joy was not one to last. Recently, Mertz had tried his hand - or hammer, rather - at crafting metal into works of art, with 'tried' being the key word. He was satisfied, at least, with the fact that he had attempted it, and had several small abstract sculptures in the shadows on the other side of the room. Unbeknownst to him, the lifeless shapes began to twitch, and reach toward one another, until they were so tight in their embrace that they began to compress into one form. Mertz snapped to attention as the clump of iron began to writhe around violently, slamming into objects and rolling around on the floor. The Le-Matoran looked on in confusion and horror, unsure of how to react or what to do to stop his former artwork from damaging anything. Whatever happened, it was not going to touch the flowers. He placed himself between it and the plants as if they were his own children, refusing to let their beauty be lost. Before he could make any kind of defensive action, however, the metal entity darted towards him and latched onto his leg. Any attempt to remove it was in vain. Slowly, the tendril began to coil around his body, making sharp movements as it did so, sticking to different parts of his body until Mertz found he was completely ensnared in the metal. He attempted to escape, but tripped and fell. Already more frightened than he had perhaps ever been, and confused and disturbed that his art had suddenly turned on him, Mertz was totally unprepared for what came next. A part of the metal attached itself to his lips, preventing him from screaming. And then, he began to move. Slowly, as if being drawn behind a Toa or taller being, Mertz began to slide along the ground, through the doorway to his hut and across the small platform outside into a dark spot below a tree branch. The moonlight illuminated a dull-armoured hand as it reached out to grasp the Matoran by the ankle, as if it had been dragging him the whole time. Looking up, he saw that the arm belonged to a pair of glowing, crystalline eyes that looked to Mertz like something out of a nightmare. In his iron bindings, Mertz began thrashing around, attempting to break free, but the hand's grasp was firm and Mephiles had magnetised the metal to his body. There was no escape. Soon, both Mertz and his kidnapper were long gone and forgotten, with the only evidence of the Le-Matoran ever existing being the torch in his hut, which burned till the morning to light the hut of nobody, as it had always done.

I miss the Daedra days. Or the Daydras, if you will.

IC: Noka Noka smiled. "I will. Thank you again, Ferron. It's been an honour." ... Ferron's words rung out in her head as she and Kuhrin buried Desuka and said their goodbyes to the others. She couldn't help but wonder what it was that had happened to him so long ago that had given him such a broken heart, but it felt inappropriate to ask. She climbing down the slope for a moment to overlook the jungle of Le-Wahi they were headed to. The sweeping green canopy gave such an inaccurate impression of the tangled web of plant life that lay beneath. Perhaps it was better that she didn't know about Ferron's dark past. He was a different person now, at least. Besides, she had secrets of her own to keep. Kuhrin began moving on again, and she followed. The two of them descended the slope and disappeared into the canopy below. OOC: It's been a pleasure, Gears. I'll see you around. Noka and Kuhrin to Le-Wahi.

IC: Noka "You were today, at least. I can't thank you enough."

IC: Noka Noka shook her head slowly. "The only thing we can do: Move on." She thought for a moment. "I'm not going back to that hut in Po-Wahi. It's time for a fresh start, somewhere peaceful. He'll need it to recover, and so will I." There was a short silence as she dwelt upon her decision, broken only by the wind and gentle sobbing. "What about you?"

IC: Noka Noka left Kuhrin alone for a moment, having spied Ferron over his shoulder. The Toa of iron was stood alone, in stark contrast to the weeping couples around him. She looked up at him sincerely. "Are you alright?"

IC: Kuhrin As Kuhrin took the statue of Krell and stared at its tiny carved face through misty eyes, it slowly began to dawn on him what he had done, all the cruelty and evil he had committed. The worst part was the knowledge that it was under his own, albeit deranged, free will - he had never been infected by the Makuta, he had simply been obsessed with it. His best friend was dead, and it was his fault. And Zuriana. Sweet, loving, innocent Zuriana, who never saw darkness in anyone, who would offer the darkness itself a cup of tea if they arrived on her doorstep, was now dead, brutally murdered by him. He couldn't look at any of these people. He did not have the right. They were good people, and he was just.... He shook his head. Turned away, head bowed. Desuka. Within seconds he was by the corpse of his brother, shaking him violently, wailing his name. But there was no strained response, no gasping for breath. Only the squelching of his back, left mutilated by the departed Parakuka, which wriggled in a vain effort to escape a short distance away. Kuhrin's blood boiled. He grabbed the tiny creature, and dashed its brains across a nearby stone. He then raised his foot, and stamped. And kept stamping. This creature was himself about an hour ago, the force of pure evil that did everything in its power to make people suffer. His foot was himself now, doing what he should have done so long ago. His rage was Desuka's death, the price of evil. Kuhrin had killed his own brother, and now he had to pay the price. He kept stamping until the only evidence that a Parakuka had existed was a gruesome mess of armour fragments and purple ooze. Suddenly, there was a warm presence around his waist. It was a comfort that calmed his heavy, violent breaths and tensed muscles and blind rage. He fell to his knees by his brother's body and returned Noka's embrace, sobbing quietly into her shoulder. "What have I done, Noka? What have I done?"

IC: Kuhrin and Noka For the first time since Ferron had known him, Kuhrin looked as if he had been caught off guard. It took several seconds for him to process what was going on, and even then, his thoughts were difficult to handle. Slowly, his wide-eyed gaze slid over to Noka, and transformed into the most desperate cry for help she had ever seen. "Noka..." The Po-Matoran rushed to him and caught him as he fell. Blood dribbled from his mouth and dyed the snow. "I can't... Help..." He mumbled weakly, his hands fumbling around the edges of the Pakari. Without a second thought, Noka grabbed the mask and tore it off, to see Kuhrin's injured face. A small trail of crimson trickled down one side of his head, and one eye was half-closed, and that was all. Evidently, his mental struggle had been far more draining than its physical equivalent. Looking into his eyes she saw confusion, loss and void, but the darkness was gone. His breaths were heavy, like he was taking huge gulps of air after being pulled out of a lake. "You're back..." He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I guess." Noka could not hold back her grin. Kuhrin waved her off and rose. At first, he was unstable, and she made to help, but he found his balance in time, taking small, wavering steps in the snow, looking around in wonder as if he hadn't seen in years. "Ferron," he wheezed, turning to the Toa of iron. "I cannot ask for your forgiveness. I just want you to know that I'm sorry. And if ever you call upon me, I shall come. My debt to you is eternal."