a goose

IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou, Onu-Koro)

Dearest Sister,
    I write to you now with the greatest excitement. I have made my pilgrimage to Onu-Wahi - staying in a delightfully quaint little inn, The Unfortunate Fikou, fret not for my safety - and begun the process of narrowing down possible locations for the site, and I do believe that I have found it at last.

I know you have worried about me in these recent weeks; the recent troubles in Ko-Koro certainly took their toll on me, that I will readily admit - I cannot remember the last time I had a proper night’s sleep, troubled as I am by these nightmares. You fear, I know, that I have become obsessed, but I assure you that it is quite the opposite! I seek only to put this behind me, and I fear that the only way to put it to rest is to see this out to its conclusion. With knowledge, I find, comes peace; it is quite impossible to be afraid of that which you have seen and understood, and in this way, I hope to put an end to those terrible dreams.

But I digress; I meant to write to you of my discovery! My theory of some psychosomnic phenomenon is all but confirmed, as the dreams have only increased in intensity by proximity, and - and! - I am not the only one having them. This, still, is but a suspicion, but I assure you that it is well-founded. I have made the decision now to go b̶̡̝̱̝̯̳̖̟͌͊̆ͅȩ̷̡̢͍͓̤̱̯̜̫͍̩͂̓̽̈́̏̔̈́̓̆͒͊͗ͅl̸͙̫̖̞̝̫̪̖̉̈̓̍̄͆̓̆̂̈́̒̃̕͝ó̴̧̨̧͉̦͈̲̯͍̦͚̍̓͋̈́̊̈̆͒̓̓͊͂͘̚͜͜ͅw̶̧͕̥̯̗͐̈́̌͐̓̈́̐̉̈́̋͝͝- My word! I’m afraid my pen has begun to leak. I will finish this letter here, sister, as I have much to do, and I will surely make extensive notes during my investigation. I hope to write to you again soon, in possession of terrific knowledge, and an archaeological discovery for the ages.

    With love,
        Montague

Taking great care, Montague folded the letter, fed it to the envelope and sealed it. Fed it? My, what an odd choice of words; you are rather in strange form today, Montague! To suggest that an envelope could ĥ̵̢u̵̥̔n̸̨̿g̶̣͠e̴̤̕r̷͇͘. Quite absurd, old sport, quite absurd.
They had already prepared the poster - and fine it was, too. Without a doubt, it would attract those like Montague themself, those who h̸̢̛̒̋̀͆̈́͐̈́̃ừ̷̰̘̠͖̝̒̉͌͑͝͝ņ̴̥͈̠̫͕͓̮̞͇͛͑͝g̷̰̱͚̻̹̠̫̲̖̅̃͋͊́̓̋͋̃͆́̊͘̚ͅe̶̙̺͚͇͆̆͜r̸̟̱̋ȩ̷̪͉̑̀́͒̑̆͆̕̚̕͝d̸̢̨͚̤̼͚͉̞̱̍͊́̓̈́̇̄̅̚ for knowledge.

Quote

Friends and countrymen, lend me your eyes! I come to you, a Matoran of science, to investigate a most unusual phenomenon: an epidemic of dreams. You see, I too have had them - the strangest visions of deep water, and the urge to venture b̴̬̈e̵̘͌l̵̟̎o̶̦̾w̷̫̔. Well, in the interest of knowledge and research, I intend to do exactly that! I am seeking fellows of a similar disposition, who have likewise had this odd experience, to join me on an expedition into the d̶͖̈́e̸̱͝ĕ̷͉p̸͚̓; to go with me in search of histories hitherto unknown, and solve a most fascinating mystery.

Montague’s name, and the room and inn in which they were staying, were clearly marked below, so that any inquisitive soul might easily find them. And now, to wait.

On 9/1/2021 at 4:29 PM, Geardirector said:

IC: Trava (Great Jungle)

Trava's path was headed eastaways, away from the Fau Swamp and Le-Koro, and swining slowly in the direction of the road leading to Ta-Wahi. It was once she spotted the river, that she began to move in a path through the jungle that loosely follow it.

'Kae' was hot on her heels, she could easily tell. The huntress wasn't going to make it easy on her.

OOC: @Ramona Flowers

IC: Kaelynn (Great Jungle)

Gotcha.

Their trajectory was her first hint - east, but with a little bit of a curve north. Only so many landmarks out there, at least ones within reach of vines. The river, however, was a dead giveaway. With a minor course correction, she'd reach Lake Pala before Trava could even notice she'd been found out.

On 8/30/2021 at 6:55 PM, Geardirector said:

IC: Trava (Great Jungle)

Kaelynn was fast, Trava expected no less. The only problem was, Trava was the one who knew where they were now headed. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she felt the thrill of the impromptu chase animate her. She had no powers, all she had was her experience and her gusto, but in her mind that was going to be enough.

Kaelynn could take the road faster than she could, but Trava could spot little shortcuts she couldn't, weaving in and out of sight among the trees, never completely gone, never completely present. She was in her element.

IC: Kaelynn (Great Jungle)

Well, she's going somewhere.

Trava was weaving her way between shortcuts, trying to disguise her route and keep Kaelynn on the back foot; but Kae knew this jungle, knew these paths. The trees were landmarks, the vines roads - she might not have known where Trava was heading yet, but she was moving with purpose, which meant they were heading somewhere. The road would tell her where, and then Kae just had to get there first.

2 minutes ago, Wotz said:

Wow I picked a good time to make my quad-annual BZPRPG visit, holy Slappa-Nui

 

So I'm not saying I'm back, but I seem to remember giving my characters away to a bunch of people. Anyone know if that's a real memory, and if so who has them, and do they still play this game?

 

Anyway you guys are the greatest and I love that this is happening right now <3

i will reel you back in whether you like it or not

Did the spider think itself immortal? Did it carve a monument to outlast all else, expecting always to lie in its centre? The web is testament to the spider’s arrogance, then; nothing beside remains.

What is a Necromancer's assistant without a Necromancer?

Quote

There is no time for a quick and painless death when it comes to spiders.

The spider moves slowly, crawling, lifting each leg with great caution as it scuttles toward the fly. Meanwhile, the fly struggles, squirms, beats its useless wings in a futile attempt to remove itself from its silky, sticky cage. The spider just walks slower, taking shorter steps with its long, creeping legs, letting its prey know just how doomed it is. And then the real cruelty shows.
The Fikou has two venomous fangs, used for injecting poison into its prey so it won't put up a fight as it's eaten. But some spiders don't finish there. Some spiders make their prey dance. They use the strings, they turn it into their own personal marionette.

Allow me to introduce Echelon. Allow him to introduce his puppets.

IC: Aerus (Echelon's Lair)

A spider’s web is stronger and more durable than steel.
Even the spider itself is easier to destroy, and after it has been crushed, its web stays on. It is not an abandoned home, subject to ruin and decay; no straggler can use it for shelter from the storm. In life as in its wake, it is an invisible, inescapable death, and the philosophy of whether it is better to be eaten alive or to be crucified and hung to rot is a question only for the flies. For the spider, the question might be whether its web is a legacy, revenge wrought from beyond the grave... or just a cruel joke on a creature that could not live up to its own weapon. But this, too, is irrelevant, because dead spiders have lost the luxury of opinions. Let it collect dust and corpses, let it find a new tenant - the spider, after all, is past caring. Did the spider think itself immortal? Did it carve a monument to outlast all else, expecting always to lie in its centre? The web is testament to the spider’s arrogance, then; nothing beside remains.
Good ##### riddance, you lousy old #####. Better to be a cockroach. Better to be a viceroy than a king – no, better to be a treasurer. A crown is a painted target, a throne the gallows. Infamy kills faster and more surely than any blade or bullet. Ambition is death. Echelon outlived many an idiot king, but apparently not many enough to have learned that lesson.
Aerus, on the other hand, had been a little more attentive. And Aerus had seen Echelon… change.

How long, Aerus wondered, had he now been alone in this place? Certainly, he’d made occasional excursions - a Matoran has to eat, after all, and Aerus was no exception. Echelon’s network, too, had to be maintained, although in the Dark Toa’s absence his erstwhile assistant had had to pore over his correspondences himself. Hubris - that was Echelon’s fatal flaw, and it always had been. He had allowed Aerus access to his spy network, access to his correspondence, and even had Aerus file those correspondences, confident that the quiet Matoran would be unable to crack his ingenious code.
It took a week.

Observation was Aerus’ strength. Pattern recognition. With unlimited free time and no shortage of examples at his disposal, finding the connections was all too easy. He actually felt almost insulted by the degree to which his ‘master’ had underestimated him. Too much time around corpses, old man.
And from there, the next steps began to become clear - there was no indication of Echelon returning to his lair, even before word of his demise had begun to spread. That left Aerus with a study full of encrypted journals, and plenty of motivation to decode them.

And then there were… the medical matters. His pride had held him back from getting medical attention in Le-Koro, but pride is a finite resource.
Aerus was dying.
He was dying slowly, certainly, but dying all the same, and painfully at that. His mind and body were deteriorating around him, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. At least, anyone still living.
There he was, surrounded by the life’s work of a mad old Necromancer with dreams of immortality. Aerus did not believe in fate; but if he did, it would be hard to argue that this was not providence at work.
That was where it began - the long hours of study, journals piled high around him, copious notes on every recurring symbol or group of characters; Aerus’ very own Rosetta Stone, all to unlock the secrets of one man’s journals.

In the end, as it often turned out, Echelon had the last laugh. Aerus had found the key - decrypting Echelon’s journals was a labour of loathing to which Aerus had dedicated his every waking moment, after all.
The issue was that it wasn’t the only key. Every tantalising hint, every nugget of knowledge, led back to one place: the aged journals that were surely Echelon’s oldest. Aerus had years of information at his fingertips - knowledge about the Peers, about Krillactum and the Marks (a short-lived glimmer of hope for Aerus, who quickly learned that Matoran could not benefit from these in the same manner as Toa), things that some might have killed to know just a few years prior. But there, right there, not even all that long before Aerus had met Echelon himself, the cipher changed. Aerus had spent precious weeks slaving over a library of dead ends. Or, rather… mostly dead ends.

He had an insurance plan now, courtesy of Echelon’s work. A last resort. Aerus had seen what the stuff had done to the Necromancer - he had gone from the cautious, secretive figure that Aerus had known, the only Follower of Makuta who had worked exclusively from the shadows and always emerged unscathed, to a reckless madman. A dead reckless madman. Better to be a cockroach.
But the power he had wielded - the strength that it had afforded him. Those were undeniable.
If all else failed, there was one thing that might save Aerus’ life, and in typical fashion, it had gone from a bountiful resource to a complete scarcity. But if he could just find some, even one vial… 
With just one vial of Antidermis, he might be saved.

IC: Kaelynn (Great Jungle)

Oh, you bet your ##### I can.

Time slowed down - she saw the path to take, saw the branches, saw where to hook and when. To the onlooker, she was off like a shot, moving with total confidence; in her mind, the Calix gave her just what she needed to get ahead. This wasn't a jungle anymore - it was hooks and swings and perfect timing, the wind whipping behind her.

IC: Kaelynn (Great Jungle)

"Got no plans, for now. Getting the sense you might, though." Kae noticed the change in Trava's stance, and the potentially leading question. Not like I have anything else to do.

IC: Kaelynn (Great Jungle)

"Hasn't been much reason to get out there 'til recently. But I'm starting to get the feeling you might be right." Kae had felt it - the restlessness, the unease. Like it was before.

She was excited.

IC: Kaelynn (Great Jungle)

Kae nodded at her hooks. "Know exactly what you mean. Haven't spent that much time outside Le, but these have come in pretty handy. Certainly makes getting around faster."

IC: Kaelynn (Great Jungle)

"What brings you up into the trees, then, Trava?" The Lesterin seemed comfortable here, and her green hues certainly fit into the jungle, so it seemed safe to guess this was her natural environment. Beyond that, Kae wasn't quite sure what to make of her - height aside, her physique wasn't totally different from Kae's own, so she was active; she had a wrist-mounted weapon, but if she had any intent of threatening Kae with it, she certainly wasn't showing it. She seemed relaxed, at home. No clear reason to be wary of her.

IC: Kaelynn (Great Jungle)

 

"Then clearly you've never fallen out of one," a bright voice called out, with that signature Le-Koro lilt. Kaelynn swung herself up and landed deftly on a branch opposite the green and yellow Lesterin. "Kae."

so if anyone wants to interact with an over-confident, show-off toa, there is one kicking the ##### out of some trees in Le  

IC: Kaelynn (Le-Wahi Jungle)

 

and swing and hook and swing and spin and

C O N T A C T

 

Take that, you ###### tree.

Kae drifted gently to the jungle floor, landing gracefully on her heels. The 'whirlwind' was a new move, and needed a lot of momentum, but she was starting to get the hang of it - at least, as far as she could tell, her combat opponents having largely been trees. She spun her hooks for a moment and rolled her neck - always important to do stretches, after all.

And then she gathered the wind beneath her heels, tossed her hooks to a sturdy branch, and was back in the zone.

 

Hook and swing and hook and

 

OOC: Open for interaction, I guess? Loooong time since I've written those words.

she's baaaaaaaaaaack

 

 

IC: Nikarra (Old Po-Koro Apartment)

 

There comes a time in every girl's life where she has to trade in her Dorian Shaddix body pillow for a Dorian Shaddix punching bag. For Nikarra, that time was now.

Stupid ##### idiot ##### ######-

#####. The perfect dead idiot’s perfect dead face was smeared with red, and another old wanted poster was going to have to be binned. She had no shortage of them, at least; let it never be said that Dor didn’t have a talent for making enemies. Nikarra sighed, and abandoned the beaten, bloodied face of the man she wished she could hate to go grab fresh bandages.

 

Dorian Shaddix. Dorian ##### Shaddix.

The man she loved more than anyone in the world.

The man who had hurt her more than anyone in the world.

The man who picked her back off her feet when she was at her lowest.

The man who had put her there.

Her best friend.

 

Just like him to go off and ##### die before they had a chance to actually properly talk about any of that #####. He just had to be a hero.

Why did he have to be a hero?

He certainly wasn’t one when they first met. He very, very literally drained the life out of her. He promised to kill her. Well, you managed that one, #####.

He could’ve just been a heartless, beautiful psychopath. He would’ve been bloody good at it. Could’ve been a musician, too. She remembered the time he let her play his guitar, sitting on his bed in The Final Problem. It was an awful bed, it really was, even by the terminally low standards of her cousin’s fine establishment. The whole thing was crooked and it bowed anytime the slightest weight was placed on it, not to mention that the springs were constantly digging into her- assets. It didn’t annoy her too much; she was already hurting, after all, for much the same reason as the bed was hanging together by a thread (oh, to be young, dumb, and full of whatever the Karz it is that a Mark pumps into you), and far too anxious holding A Prized Possession Of Dorian Shaddix to even think about anything else. She still cringed thinking about her visceral fear of somehow snapping the strings, like she’d suddenly never held a guitar in her life. What was it they sang together, again?

Mama, take this badge off of me…

Ah.

It was too late to dismiss the memory now. She felt his chin on her shoulder, his hands on hers, guiding her through the motions… That was what hooked her, really. Not his looks, not his wit, not his infuriating bad boy appeal; it was the softness. He could be so gentle, and he brought the same ease and confidence to that as he did to everything else. In those moments, it never felt like he was restraining himself or being cautious – it was him, fully and completely. Like everything, gentleness came naturally to him, and suddenly it was impossible to so much as imagine that those hands could ever have done harm to anyone.

Nikarra took in a deep breath, as if she half-expected to smell him on the air.

Nothing. Nothing but sand and blood. The desert stung the insides of her nostrils.

Even his scarf only smelled of her now. She felt a strange kind of guilt every time she turned to it for comfort, as if it was a violation of some kind to bury her face for a moment in a dead man’s scarf.

Everything still felt so wrong. She was long past denial – she knew the son of a ###### was gone. The world was full of dead heroes, after all. But after all they had been through together, Dor was a part of her, and a world without him felt… uncanny. Nothing had felt real for these past few weeks; the punching bag helped, because the pain at least reminded her she wasn’t dreaming. She was the healthiest she’d been in years, really; exercise kept her mind off things, and the sting of it kept her alive. As she peeled the blood-stained bandage from her knuckles, wincing, she did have to wonder whether ‘healthy’ was, in fact, the right term for this, but either way it kept her going. Running her hands under the tap, she looked past herself in the mirror; the woman with the tear-streaked face and dark bags under her bright green eyes was of little interest to her. But behind her, partially buried under clothes and debris…

 

It hadn’t been tuned in years. Not since she’d last lived here, back when her Shaddix obsession was at its peak – she wasn’t even sure she still had callouses, although a little more pain would hardly hold her back now. She tried each string again and, satisfied with her work, sat down on the floor with her dusty old guitar in hand.

"You sing,” he whispered.

Knock, knock, knockin’ on-

yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes

 

i am here for this

MYSTIX SPECIES DETAILS:

 

Profiles:

Mata Nui

Name: Nikarra (Past Alias: Sloth)

Species: Toa of Lightning

Gender: Female

Alignment: Neutral

Kanohi: Iden

Appearance: Nikarra is average in height, with a slim, attractive frame. Her light armour is primarily purple, with elements of black, and her eyes are bright green.

Powers: Lightning, that stuff that the Iden does.

Weapons: Two knives, which she keeps in hidden compartments in the armour on her thighs. More recently, dual-wielded swords.

Personality: Depressed, traumatised, but unfailingly empathetic and optimistic.

Biography: Nikarra has lost a lot over the years. When she became a mark-bearer, and fell in love with Dorian Shaddix, she lost herself; won over by his charm into a toxic relationship, she became a shadow of her former self once she no longer had him to rely on, a path that eventually led her to become the Daedra, Sloth. However, she found that she still had a streak of empathy and optimism that set her apart from the other Daedra, who she struggled to find a kinship with, save Pride (Vyartha Vena), with whom she had a short-lived tryst. When the Daedra collapsed, practically before they’d even started, Nikarra left Vyartha and found herself reunited with Dorian, in a more platonic capacity, even though her feelings for him still held true.

Weakness: Nikarra's armour is light, intended to allow for faster movement at the expense of less protection, but even though she’s been keeping better shape than the previous arc she’s still not back at her physical peak, which leaves her stamina a little low.

 

Name: Aerus (Previously Xerov)

Species: Vo-Matoran

Gender: Male

Alignment: Himself, mostly

Kanohi: A Rau, in the shape of a Great Komau

Appearance: Aerus is taller and thinner than most Matoran, not looking particularly physically strong. His primary colour is navy blue, but he also has some black in his armour, and his eyes are a deep blue. Recently, his body has deteriorated unexpectedly, and as such he now uses a cane.

Gear: A small blade, a revolver (foreign tech received in Arc 1), and a custom protosteel-topped cane.

Personality: Aerus values his own survival above all else, repeatedly proving willing to dismiss his own morals for the sake of it. This self-centredness, combined with his manipulative nature, and balance of self-loathing and superiority complex, mark him as something close to a textbook narcissist. His high opinion of himself is centred primarily on his intelligence - he has an almost uncanny knack for reading people, combining perception with pattern recognition and a deductive mind. This does not prevent him from overestimating his abilities, or being blinded by ego.

Biography: ‘Aerus’ came into existence along with the Legacy, the followers of Makuta who continued to work in his absence. Before the name Aerus, he was known as Xerov; a Matoran who became a reluctant servant to Echelon after stumbling into the necromancer’s path in Ko-Wahi. Despite successfully escaping him, Xerov later returned to Echelon’s side after the Makuta was banished, knowing that Echelon would intend to fill that power gap and fearing being on the side opposing the Dark Toa. Assuming the identity of Aerus, and changing his mask, he became an emissary to Echelon, managing a network of contacts the necromancer had across Mata Nui. He later became separated from him while speaking to Joske on his behalf, and travelled with the Toa Merror for some time, before abandoning him to spend the remainder of the arc hiding in Echelon’s lair, slowly realising that his mind and body were deteriorating around him.

Weakness: Aerus is a Matoran, and far from a physically imposing one at that. In addition to this, his own hubris and desire for approval make him intellectually vulnerable.

 

Name: Learu (Lay-AH-roo)

Species: Chiropteran Mystix (Water)

Gender: Female

Abilities: Flight, Sonar, and Elemental Water.

Appearance: Learu is athletic in build, clearly more muscular than other similarly slender women. Her colour scheme is an odd mix of blues, dark, bright and pastel, which blend into one another across her body, and she has bright green eyes. Like most Chiropteran Mystix, she wears armour to protect her torso, but hers is patchy and somewhat ramshackle, clearly self-made.

Personality: Learu is hotheaded, quick to anger and slow to forgive. She is deeply untrusting, particularly of other Mystix, and avoids all vulnerability.

Biography: Centuries ago, when Ignotus first schemed to conquer Mata Nui, it was Learu - his own niece - who betrayed him, and had all the Chiropteran Mystix sealed beneath the earth in Onu-Wahi. When he was released, she returned from her self-imposed exile to oppose him, until he was mysteriously assassinated and her father, Zarnarax, an advocate of 'non-violent conquest' came to power. Allying with Aclaraung and Xaruthan, she worked to depose her father - and betrayed all parties involved, hoping that the ensuing chaos and bloodshed might finally put an end to the Mystix altogether. She and Xaruthan, who killed Zarnarax himself, are the only known Chiropteran survivors.

Weakness(es): Although physically capable, Learu is lacking in armour to protect her. Likewise, her emotional instability is rarely an asset to her.

 

Name: Kaelynn (goes by 'Kae')

Species: Le-Toa

Gender: Female

Alignment: Good

Kanohi: Calix

Appearance: Kae has a decidedly slight figure, standing almost a head shorter than the average Toa, but despite that potentially misleading appearance is absolutely made of muscle. Her armour is light, to better allow for speed and manoeuvrability, and is bright green and dark grey in hue.

Powers: Elemental air, and the ability to perform at her physical peak granted by her Kanohi Calix.

Equipment: Kae’s Toa Tools are two sharp hooks, each attached to a chain. Wielding one in each hand, she primarily uses them to get an aerial advantage over her opponents.

Skills: Kae combines her Calix and her elemental powers into inhuman agility, which she uses to be a massive show-off. You'd be forgiven for thinking that her feet didn't touch the ground during a fight at all, between using her whip to swing off anything it can wrap around, wall running, and doing some sick flips (and other tricks).

Personality: Kae is energetic and upbeat, and always far too ready with a snarky remark. While both a staunch optimist and an adherent to the Toa Code, she is always far too eager for a fight, whether in terms of actual sparring or just words, and is a major show off with her abilities. She can very easily come across as arrogant, which she is; however, she ultimately has a good heart and wants to protect people and set an example as a hero, even if her pride undercuts her better motivations.

Biography: Kae only recently became a Toa, and idolises the Maru as a result.

Weakness: Kae, as mentioned above, is an arrogant show-off when approached in a fight, prioritising flashiness over strategy. While she can get serious when a fight demands it, that arrogance and flashiness can be taken advantage of and turned against her by an opponent who isn't distracted by her grandstanding and knocks her out of her rhythm, as she is much less capable when on the defensive than on the offense.

 

Name: Montague

Species: De-Matoran

Alignment: Neutral

Abilities: Extremely sensitive hearing, and a keen analytical mind.

Mask: Powerless Noble Huna

Appearance: Montague is very much the average De-Matoran; they are primarily grey and silver, with hints of black, most prominently on their mask, which appears to be marbled black and silver (the former toward the bottom, the latter at the top). Their inquisitive eyes are a pale blue in colour.

Personality: Montague, though quiet, communicates an odd excitement and intensity. Archaeology is not only their greatest passion, but the sole focus of their life - they view the past as a mystery, and long to solve it. Mysteries in general are of great interest to them; however, their sensitive hearing made policework a poor fit. Highly driven and insatiably curious, they have a far greater interest in mysteries than in people, and struggle socially as a result, only really able to engage with or be interested in others when viewing them as conundrums to be solved.

Biography: Montague grew up in the then-peaceful and sheltered village of Ko-Koro, where they developed an interest in detective stories and in the history that was to be found all around them. After a very short stint in the Ta-Koro guard, they returned home, pursuing the point where their passions coalesced: archaeology. Their quiet existence, however, was disrupted by the recent chaos in their hometown; it left them anxious, and restless, no longer confident in their own safety.

Weakness(es): Montague is a socially awkward Matoran, with a nervous disposition and overly sensitive hearing. Really, it's just surprising they've made it this far.
 

Name: Ronan

Species: Toa (Iron)

Gender: Female

Kanohi: Rau-shaped Tryna

Appearance: Ronan is tall and slender, and rarely seen not wearing her dark grey overcoat. Her armour is gunmetal grey with burnt orange accents, and her eyes are an icy blue.

Personality: Detached and aloof, but rarely standoffish, Ronan is a curious soul who chooses to bury her emotions and empathy. She is sociable, but deeply untrusting. She also struggles to read social cues or fully understand other people, a fact that she masks with stoicism.

Abilities: Elemental Iron, the powers of her Kanohi, skiing.

Gear: Ronan’s Toa Tools are two shortswords, which she keeps sheathed on each hip. Both are curious in shape, with odd edges that leave the impression of being made up of smaller blades - an impression that is actually correct, as Ronan is able to use her elemental powers to turn said blades into razor whips (ouch). In addition to this, she carries skis and a repeating crossbow (Highlander standard issue).

Biography: Like many in Ihu-Koro, Ronan arrived with a mysterious past and an unwillingness to discuss it. Her combat skills suggest some mercenary experience, but beyond that, it’s hard to say.

Weakness: Although highly physically competent, Ronan's social skills are lacking, and she has difficulty understanding others and reading the room.

 

Name: Kira

Species: Onu-Matoran

Gender: Female

Kanohi: Kaukau (Powerless)

Equipment: A grey and orange backpack, containing an iStone, a collapsible telescope, and a tripod.

Appearance: Kira, even by Matoran standards, is on the short side, and not the slimmest. Her body is black and dark grey, contrasting with her bright orange Kaukau and light green eyes.

Personality: Kira is in turns shy and withheld, and impassioned and opinionated. She has difficulty relating to others, but when incensed or engaged in a topic that’s of interest to her - such as, for instance, the stars - she quickly loses these inhibitions.

Biography: Onu-Koro is not a place for stargazers. Kira grew up with the earth above her head, dreaming of the night sky, and the moment she could take her leave, she did. Since then, she has been honing her craft as an astrologer, both with her own collapsible telescope and the Great Telescope on the Ta-Wahi beach. But the stars have been wrong now more than once, and Kira grows restless…

Weakness: she’s a matoran, dude. any other species can kick her like a football

 

Name: Muir (Muirtagh Fenn)

Gender: Male

Species: Toa (Magnetism)

Kanohi: Rode, with custom magnifying scopes.

Abilities: Elemental Magnetism, the powers of the Rode (With scopes that allow various levels of magnification), an experienced deductive mind.

Appearance: Largely brown, with accents of maroon, Muir blends well into his Po-Koro environment (visually, at least). His eyes are a deep, pensive blue in colour, and lie behind a Rode so customised that it more closely resembles an Akaku. He stands a little below the average Toa in height, with lean shoulders that grant him a slender and unimposing build, which makes his choice of weapon surprising to most.

Gear: A two-handed axe, and a multitool knife.

Personality: Although not a Po-Toa, in personality as in appearance Muir is unmistakably a Po-Wahi native. Steadfast - stubborn, even - with a moral compass so strong that his worldview borders on black and white, Muir is completely dedicated to justice and to the truth. Described by some who know him as still a Matoran at heart, his strongest conviction is that his position as a Toa means that he must stand up for and defend the weak and the powerless, a role he now fulfills in his legal clinic.

Biography: Muir joined the Po-Koro guard when he was still a Matoran, and his dedication to the service weathered both his transformation into a Toa and the transition to the Sentinels. In his time there, he proved adept at the more analytical aspects of the job, gaining a reputation as a talented crime-solver. However, his strong convictions also became a major facet of his reputation, to the point where some of his colleagues came to view his tendency to stand against his own as a liability. Still, his single-minded dedication to the job and his knack for investigation made him an asset, despite the pervasive opinion that he was a traitorous snitch. Leaving the force was his own choice, in the end - he grew increasingly disillusioned with the Sentinels under Hewkii, and decided to strike out and found a legal clinic, where he could actually be a force for good, in ways that the Sentinels never could.

Weakness: Muir's stubbornness and black-and-white worldview often undercut him.

 

Name: Donal

Gender: Male

Species: Toa (Plantlife)

Kanohi: Mask of Obscurity (Shaped like a Mahiki) (Approved by GH, details below)

Abilities: Elemental control of Plantlife, which he specialises in using to create poisons; the powers of the Mask of Obscurity.

Appearance: Donal is average in almost every way; his colour scheme is a drab grey and black, his mask appears to be a Mahiki, he's of average height, with a slim build. He's handsome, certainly, but not spectacularly so - handsome in that generic way in which D-list actors who all look alike are. He has no remarkable features, except perhaps for his eyes, which are stunningly green, rendered even more vibrant by his monochromatic armour.

Gear: Twin daggers, and a small pack containing a wide variety of seeds and a (slightly) smaller variety of poisons, to use at his convenience.

Personality: Donal is, on the surface, disaffected - even charming, in a cool, collected way. He's also a perfectionist, and a deeply cautious one at that, but on those rare occasions that things don't go his way, a deep anger has been known to bubble up from somewhere beneath his calm exterior.

Biography: Donal was born in Le-Wahi, to rich and inattentive parents who left him a great deal of money after their suspicious deaths. He used it to study, through books and practical experimentation, the ways in which plants could affect the body and the mind - and then he put this knowledge to use as an assassin. His name is still almost unknown - assuming that it isn't an alias, and his past a fabrication - due in part to his unusual mask power, but also due to his reputation for clean, quiet kills, the kind that create little suspicion.

Weakness(es): Donal has honed his intelligence and wits, not his body - he is not physically equipped for direct confrontation.

 

Name: Koura

Gender: Female

Species: Matoran (Sonics)

Kanohi: Volitak (Powerless)

Abilities: Highly sensitive hearing.

Appearance: Tall, slender, and jet-black in colour with accents of gold, Koura cuts an unusually intimidating figure for a Matoran. Her golden eyes are eerily cold, and marked by a dangerous intelligence.

Personality: Withheld, even standoffish, what charisma Koura has comes directly from the odd sense of threat that she exudes. She is stoic and calculating, carefully maintaining control of every situation through manipulation and intelligence.

Biography: Koura’s past is, essentially, entirely unknown. She appeared, apparently from nowhere, to offer her services to Donal. Since then, she has acted as a point-of-contact for him with various clients, effectively becoming the face of his operation. What little evidence there is of her existence before this places her in Onu-Koro, but why and for how long exactly is unclear.

Weakness(es): Unusually intimidating though she may be, Koura is still a Matoran, with no elemental or Kanohi powers, and lacking the physical strength of a Toa or Lesterin. In addition to this, although her colouration is unusual, she is a De-Matoran, and has highly sensitive hearing as a result.

 

Name: Pirok

Species: Toa (Fire)

Kanohi: Tryna (In the shape of a Calix)

Gender: Male

Traits: As a youth, Pirok was a typically hot-headed and overeager Ta-Toa; in adulthood, he has simmered down a bit, though the anger that fueled him still burns beneath the surface.

Appearance: Pirok has grown into himself since the days before Makuta's defeat; just barely an adult then, with a boyish face and a lanky frame, he's now lean and athletic, his jaw rendered sharper by his greater fitness. His armour, too, has changed – though still primarily red and gold, it's lighter, allowing greater mobility, and the dark grey beneath has been replaced by black. His eyes, though, are still the same intense, piercing blue.

Biography: Pirok's childhood was one of loneliness and loss; ever out of place in his home village of Le-Koro, he was led to believe that his only friend had been murdered when he was still just a boy. As an adolescent Toa, he set out to avenge his friend with the aid of the veteran Toa Merror; to the surprise of both, the Le-Toa who Pirok had believed to be to blame, a Makuta-follower by the name of Proditor, turned out to be his long-lost friend. Tragically, they had not long been reunited – Proditor having decided to seek redemption – when Proditor was struck down and killed by the Necromancer, Echelon. His lost friend found, then lost again, Pirok was without direction, until he found new purpose with the Toa Astha, a short-lived team led by Merror. When the Astha parted ways, most vanished from the public eye, Pirok among them, and he seems to have kept to himself since.

Weakness: Though a little more mature, beneath the surface Pirok is still reckless and prone to blinding anger, traits that can be as advantageous to his enemies as they are alienating to his allies.

 

Kentoku

Name: Caana

Species: Dasaka

Gender: Female

Caste & Clan: Menti; clanless.

Discipline: Soulsword

Kanohi: Mask of Perception (Shaped like a Hau)

Abilities: Caana is a truly formidable combatant – at close range, she's a highly skilled melee fighter, whether hand-to-hand or using her Dragonwing Tonfas. However, she truly shines in ranged combat, conjuring a psychokinetic bow and arrow and using her Kanohi to aim with uncanny precision. Her most recent acquisition is a Rahkshi staff, which allows her more reach in melee combat.

Appearance: Dark blue and black in colouration, with acid-green eyes, the only noteworthy element of Caana's natural appearance is the silver that fades into the crown of her Kanohi. The truly unique element of her appearance is her armour – instead of traditional crystal armour, or even the ornamental gold of the upper class, Caana wears metallic silver scale mail. Built around a leather base, the armour itself was allegedly harvested from dragons, and passed down through generations of her family. She is most often seen with her tonfas on her hips, and her Rahkshi staff on her back.

Weapon(s): Two metal Dragonwing Tonfa, also allegedly sourced from dragons slain by Caana's ancestors, with Soulsword energy having been used to soften and slightly reshape the metal. The long end of each is sharpened to a point, to offer some utility as a stabbing weapon, but otherwise they are blunt. She also carries a Rahkshi staff, specifically that of a Rahkshi of Quick Healing. Caana can also produce a bow and arrows as her Soulsword weapon.

Personality: Caana is quiet, driven, and surprisingly philosophical, driven by a carefully considered code and set of beliefs.

Biography: Even to the few who know of Caana, the Soulsword nomad clad in metal scales, she is an enigma, a stranger with no clan and no past. However, those with long memories and a particular interest in dead clans of the Archipelago or the ancient legends of dragons and those who slayed them might recall the sad tale of an orphaned girl by the same name; taken in by her aunt after the sudden death of her mother, the Toroshu of Clan Ikachi. Legend would have it that the Ikachis were descended from great hunters of dragons, in the days when such creatures roamed Kentoku. A set of Dragonscale Mail and Dragonwing Tonfas were passed down through the bloodline, supposedly crafted from the very dragons they had slain. When tragedy struck again and Clan Ikachi's new Toroshu, the very aunt who had taken the young girl in, was brutally murdered, neither the girl nor the draconic heirlooms were anywhere to be found. In the decades since, the Ikachi name and their tragic tale have largely faded out of memory.

Weakness(es): Although skilled in combat, Caana's code of ethics and average intelligence can be used against her.

 

Zakaz

Name: Nessen

Species: Lesterin (Sonics)

Alignment: Brotherhood of Ahk'Rei:Ahan

Gear: Kanohi Rode

Abilities: Highly sensitive hearing, the powers of the Rode

Appearance: Nessen is tall and broad-shouldered, towering over most other Lesterin, an intimidation factor he appears to greatly enjoy. His Rode, likewise, is intimidating; rather than the rounded shape and curves of the typical rode, his is gaunt and angular, with emphasised cheekbones and an almost skull-like shape. Unlike most Lesterin, rather than wearing it only when necessary, Nessen has his Rode on at almost all times, to 'encourage honesty' in those he speaks to. He is almost entirely grey and silver in colour, apart from some pale blue on his arms, legs, and face, and his eyes are an abyssal blue.

Personality: Nessen values truth and loyalty above all else, and is as fiercely dedicated to these virtues as he is to his cause. It is unfortunate, then, that these potentially heroic traits are supplemented by cruelty, vicious sadism, and totalitarianism. On the bright side, in his middle-managerial cult position, where abuse of power is not only tolerated but encouraged, he has truly found his purpose in life. His happiness and fulfilment are likely cold comfort to those he exerts this power over.

Biography: Nessen is a true devotee of the Brotherhood, and worked his way tirelessly up to his position as Inquisitor, largely by way of tyrannically subjugating other acolytes and either betraying dissenters to those above him in the food chain, or taking care of matters himself. His black and white worldview, combined with his sadistic tendencies, made him a clear choice for a high rank in such a structure, and he has worked his dream job ever since.

Weakness(es): As arrogant as he is bloodthirsty, Nessen's ego, cruelty and black and white world view can be easily turned against him, despite his physically imposing stature.

 

Name: Merrill

Species: Ga-Lesterin

Gender: Female

Abilities: Heightened agility, holding breath for long periods of time, resistance to poisons

Gear: Revolver (foreign tech 1, everybody's got one), Kinetic Gauntlet (foreign tech 2, approved by ty, absorbs kinetic energy and redistributes it by punching, powered by blood alcohol levels), six separate hip flasks, Great Kanohi Akmi (custom, approved by Ghosthands, details below)

Appearance: Merrill has the typical colouration of her species (shades of blue with keetorange accents). She’s muscular and well-built, already predisposed to athleticism even without her natural agility, and her eyes and face are blue.

Personality: Reckless, charming, and rarely sober, Merrill is a staple of every hole that can tap alcohol in Seprilli (and her staple diet is their clientelle). She dives headfirst into every woman near-suicidal adventure she can, purely for the thrill.

Biography: Merrill can’t remember last week, nevermind her life story.

Weakness(es): getting the distinct feeling you might have some clues if you’ve read this profile

 

Name: Aden Adaan

Gender: Female

Species: Lesterin (Ice)

Kanohi: Mask of Psychometry

Appearance: White and teal in colouration, Aiden’s height can best be described as statuesque, with broad shoulders that are only further bulked out by her trademark black duster. Her eyes are an icy blue.

Abilities & Traits: Aiden is very much the traditional intellectual: an unparalleled expert in her field, with absolutely no social skills. Haughty and sarcastic at best, standoffish and callous at worst, she’s hard to get along with, which might explain why she spends so much of her time dusting off relics in archaeological digs. Also in the typical scholarly mould, she’s a deadeye with a pistol, and not afraid to get her hands dirty in a brawl – after all, this is Zakaz.

Equipment: Two revolvers (reloading is for corpses), a satchel containing various Tools Of The Trade and her Kanohi.

Foreign Tech: Radar survey gear: a black device, roughly the size of a brick, with a variety of knobs, dials, an antenna and a tiny radar dish. In addition to this, she also sometimes connects a telescopic, crutch-like attachment, with a flat dish at the bottom, giving the whole device the appearance of a metal detector. The survey gear is blatantly cobbled together; although advanced Vortixx gear is at its heart, much of the construction is jury-rigged from salvage and covered in exposed wires in order to make it actually functional. That it stays together at all is a surprise, nevermind that it works. (Approved by Ghosthands)

Weakness:Not really the social type, and easily distracted by the potential of Discovery.

 

Okay yeah I don't think I can keep up the excuse of vaguely circling the drain if everybody is legitimately coming back. A consistent stream of one liners wouldn't be too hard.

 

Anyway first thing to do, like always, is to remember who I actually have anywhere.

Isn't Arkrak hanging around with Elaadis in Ga?

 

wait like, still? is that on me? i'm not taking responsibility either way

also hey what up i'm still watching y'all from the shadows around here

- Ramona Flowers

IC: incommodo (ga, wherever arkrak is)

 

"hi i'm incommodo i'm here & have been present this whole time, no continuity errors here"

IC:

 

I was crying by the time I was near enough to see what had happened. Y'know, if I ever settle down, I might just become an author; 'Crying In Different Environments And How That ###### Feels.' Le-Wahi you mightn't even notice at first; it's humid enough that you might even get away with it. Ta-Wahi it dries before it even reaches your cheekbones (and trust me guys, I got pretty high cheekbones, this is for real here).

Ko-Wahi it stings. It's bitter and cold and you get scared that every tear is gonna freeze on your skin, crystals of ice that give away your vulnerability to everyone around you, your weakest moment frozen in time so that no one can miss it.

######, I'm depressing.

 

Hi, I'm Nikarra, and I'll be your host for today.

 

 

I wasn't crying because of what had happened. A Toa was dead. Dor was in front of him, obviously broken by the experience. I'd heard the gunshots, the sound of the fight, Dor's shouting, and I'd tried to speed up.

Back in the day, I was fit as ######. I could run across ###### rooftops if I wanted to. I killed people -- bad people, but I still killed them, and I did it fairly well for a non-professional. In that moment, I forgot how much I had changed. I guess I expected that kind of adrenaline-powered rage that everyone says you're meant to get at times like this. But after months of barely moving, while I barely ate and my body and mind rotted away, even adrenaline couldn't carry me through. I thought I was getting better, but I guess it's easier to fall out of shape than to get back into it, y'know?

I was already lagging behind everyone else by the time Dor sped ahead of the rest of us, my heavy breaths clouding in front of my mouth. I wanted to cry. I wasn't even sure why. Like, yeah, I was exhausted, but it wasn't just that. It was something deeper.

Sometimes it feels like that feeling is always just below the surface. It's just that I only notice it when I'm tired.

 

I went from trying my best to catch up to trying my best not to collapse, and that's when the tears started flowing. Because even though I know I could contribute nothing to any fight where Dor could get that thoroughly thrashed, it felt like he needed me, and I was failing him. I wasn't good enough. I don't know what I've signed up for, but... I don't know if I'm good enough to be here. So many thoughts flashed through my mind -- is this how it's gonna be forever? Moving from good to evil, too ###### for the good teams, not ###### enough for the evil ones? Am I that ######?

Dor's friend is dead.

And I used to be so good. That's what really stings. I lost myself along the way to the point where I'm not even recognisable as the person I was before Dor. And, in a weird way, I don't want to be that person anymore -- I don't kill now. I have a perspective I never had before, I see people in new ways. I'm a better person. I don't want to be the girl I was before.

This is his moment.

I just, like, wouldn't mind having her body.

Stop thinking about yourself for once.

 

I was caught as I saw Dor sitting there, that other Toa's hand on his shoulder, in front of the body I could only assume used to be his friend. Still was his friend. For a second, it wasn't my tears that were frozen, but me -- should I step forward? Should I walk over to him? What do I say, what do I do?

Am I important enough to be that close to him right now?

 

 

 

 

Nikarra walked slowly over to Dorian, her breaths shaking, her tears far subtler than she thought they were. She stood slightly behind him, but in line with him, and the gesture was clear -- she wanted to be close to him, but she was also trying to give him space. When he got up, whenever that was, he would see her, maybe even turn around to her; at that point, the choice of whether or not he let her in was entirely his. A tear stung her cheek as she watched him on the ground, a tear shed for his sake rather than hers, as her introspection died away. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, and she closed it, frowning as something akin to regret made its way across her face. She didn't know the Toa that lay dead on the ground, or even the living one whose hand was on Dorian's shoulder. She didn't know anyone in the team Dorian had assembled. She didn't know what they were trying to achieve. But she knew Dorian.

I'm so sorry, Dor.

IC:

 

Elle was lying in her bed, hair mussed up in the not-good bedhead way, taking what she felt was a well-deserved rest, when her phone buzzed somewhere. Who the is texting me? What time is it? "Bleghhhhhhhhhh."

 

Elle you must meet my cat today! You aren't allowed to say no! c=<

 

Elle sighed, and began to write a reply while still lying down and semi-conscious and unsure of exactly what time it was, really? How late could it be? It was probably before lunch, right? She had a strict 'no getting out of bed before 12pm unless you really have to' policy on those days her alarm wasn't set, and she had no intention of breaking that today.

Even if it was for cats.

 

i'm still in bed ashley, i'm still trying to sleep, like i'm wearing my pyjamas and stuff

well, not pyjamas, but it's a really big jumper and it's like, super comfy (it's made out of this super soft material i mean really like, suuuuper soft)

like what time is it jesus christ there's sunlight and stuff what like when did that even happen do i have to move

i'm gonna be real here ashley i reallydon't wanna movw

i'll come check out your cat later i promise i'm just in the prbcess og a lufdafadjfkdkfyejgwbdicxz

 

Elle's phone just about found the enter key, along with about a dozen emojis, as she faded into unconsciousness again, waking up with a start when her phone hit the ground with a rather distinct thud. Muffled by the pillow which now covered her face and pretty unconcerned by the possible damage to her phone, she exclaimed '##### it' and elected to continue sleeping, tugging her quilt up around her.

hubbbbbbbbb <3

love ya too, bro c':

 

- Suzy

IC: Incommodo

 

"C'MON FOLKS, GA-KORO'S BEER AIN'T GONNA DRINK ITSELF"

IC: 

 

"Alright, enough of this boring #####-talk, let's hit the road!" Incommodo shouted out, quite resoundingly shattering the poignancy of the moment. "C'mon guys, are we gonna stand around talking about militarisation all day or are we gonna go on an adventure?!"

 

Incommodo teleported off ahead of them and began running backwards, facing them and waving his arms in the air. "WOOPWOOPWOOPWOOPWOOPWOOPWOOPWOOP"