NorikSigma

IC: Klidarg - Market Square, Irnakk's Teeth The warrior whispered to the Blade-Wife, and they turned warily in Klidarg's direction. It was then that Klidarg realised that he really stood out, what with the small crowd moving on. Klidarg stepped forward, palms clasped. "Good tidings and greetings esteemed Ash;tak and warrior. Forgive me for my presumption, I was drawn to your duel. "I am-" Klidarg paused for a moment. Would either of these two take his head if they knew his identity? Unlikely, and besides, at this point, how could Klidarg abandon even his name? "-Klidarg, humble warrior and sometime-hunter-of-crabs. If I may be so bold, may I ask how you have come to be in this... state, respected Ash;tak?" OOC: @Palm @Visaru

IC: Klidarg - Market Square, Irnakk's Tooth The market square, one of several, of Irnakk’s Tooth was always noisy and cramped, and the crowd always rowdy and impatient. The streets were always too cramped, most of them tilted at slight angles, changing in width as they snaked through haphazard jumbles of architecture ranging from old Lesterin to modern warlord palaces. Klidarg adjusted his hat as he stood in the market ‘square’, sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd. Apart from looking half like a Kaiakan tapestry and half like a hillbilly, he was standing still, waiting for his specialist grocer contact to finish inspecting the catch he’d caught, while the crowd surged and mingled and moved around him, like a rock in a really unhygienic river. He’d come to Zabok as he knew the “master of acquisitions” was looking for something good for his master, who had made a show of entering the city a week ago before promptly barricading himself inside his fortress-mansion and making more noise than usual celebrating something or other. “Oh, that’s a nice fella, and fresh enough. Padded properly. Now let’s see…” Zabok made a show of counting out the price. “That adds up to about fifty Dregs, good price!” “Zabok, I hope you understand that Ussal like these do not come skittering into a trap every day,” Klidarg responded levelly. “Eh? Oh, yeah, I see that,” the grocer said, looking down at the Ussal again, exaggeratedly looking from the corner of his eye. “It was truly a generous fate that bestowed this upon me today.” Klidarg continued. “After all, I hear your lord will be having a feast soon. What better way to impress him than with this absolute beast?” Klidarg watched as the grocer hummed and hawed and muttered to himself. He knew the Ussal was properly worth at least another ten Dregs, not counting the finder’s fee that blue-hat sellers asked for. “Hum, what about this then? I’ll give you another fifty Grains,” the grocer offered, trying to look confident. Klidarg did not respond. “Hrm, alright, and another twenty Dregs on top. Final offer!” “You are very generous, Zabok, thank you,” Klidarg bowed, and scooped up the money the grocer offered. The Skakdi looked a annoyed at Klidarg’s haggling-without-directly-haggling, but he was grinning from ear to ear when he peeked inside the sack, diligently padded to prevent the Ussal from spoiling. “Boss is gonna love this...” he excitedly whispered, before hauling the bag over his shoulder and trotting away. “Safe travels,” Klidarg bid him, though he knew the Skakdi was now out of earshot. His business concluded, the Kaiakan re-joined the crowd. Amidst the shoving and shouting in this congested sector of the city, Klidarg idly looked up and around, into the ‘rock district’ of the city. There, nestled in the ‘upper’ reaches of the Tooth built into the mountain were boulevards and avenues of strange and diverse manses, serving as the homes of warlords. Beyond, he could peer over from this side of the ciy over the lower reaches, many filled with specialist workshops and their own trade districts. The most interesting were the shrine-analogues to Irnakk and other :Dii scattered about. A Kaiakan like him would not be welcome in those areas even when he was a warlord, much less now, and Klidarg contented himself with observing from afar. He’d spent quite some time in the Tooth and its environs since his (two) exile(s), and he still could not get used to it. Clan days in the Eyrie were lively, between the ruckus of market stalls setup in the village square by recently arrived relations and attendants to the performances and duels fought in the singular flat field on the outskirts of the mountain village. But it was a different kind of noise. The sound of community and life, and restraint even between opposing clans. The pride of Kaiakans would not abide by any slights or insults, but by that measure, they never gave it out to others, especially on Clan days. Klidarg could not help but smile wanly as he recalled the memories. Perhaps I judge the Spine-Lords too harshly, Klidarg mused, observing the crowd as he steadily made his way out of the town. It always seemed that the Skakdi, especially in spaces like the cramped, crooked streets of the Tooth, were always all a little vexed at something or another, but then again, if he had to live in the Tooth for long, Klidarg decided he might also be vexed at every annoyance. He could afford to be more understanding. His train of thought was interrupted as he passed an alley, spotting two Skakdi fighting. Such altercations were a clip a quart- No, not fighting. Sparring, he realised as he watched them stop short of their blows. He watched as the blinded, ragged Skakdi nodded and conceded to the hulk of a warrior. She looked familiar- “N'ashka Akkataka?” He realised, a little too loudly. What is she doing here, in this state? They probably did not hear him, but nonetheless, it would be obvious to the pair that he had separated from the crowd and was now observing them. OOC: @Palm @Visaru

IC: Klidarg - The hills outside Irnakk's Tooth, Irnakk's Jaw “Nothing.” Klidarg sighed as he stood up from his crouch. Nothing in the traps for three days in a row. Not that he was surprised. The Jaw was a poor hunting spot, chosen only out of the Kaiakan’s misplaced sense of trying to recapture the feeling of home. The uplands of the Jaw were a poor substitute for Home, and he knew that. Too dry, too warm, and the wind moved differently. Klidarg sighed as he surveyed the rest of the hilltop. There wasn’t even enough vegetation for a stew. This was exactly why he decided to try his hand at the mercenary and warlord business in the first place: there was none of his old life to return to on this island. Yet here he was, a battered has-been trying to recapture… what? The warrior grunted in frustration and flung his spear down the hillside. He heard it crash and thud into something hard, probably a rock. Too many rocks here. Klidarg sighed and sat down, looking towards the Kvere;Ivi. He had little of the superstitions that Skakdi had for the lake, and so to him, it had always been an image of peace and tranquillity, so far removed from the wars and politics of the island, despite being in the literal centre of it all. The Skakdi avoided the lake except to collect water, even avoiding sleeping with their faces towards it, yet it fed and watered practically all of them, directly or not. Perhaps that is why the Spined Lords fear it so much, he mused. It is anathema. The wars only continue if the Truce is held. They know they subsist off the grave of the Lesteri. Uncomfortable realisations for a people not given to introspection. Still, Klidarg knew it was best not to brush off or disparage their beliefs. Even if he did not believe, he’d seen enough to know that he should always respect the fears of the Skakdi. Whatever could scare that lot was worth worrying about himself. The sound of something rustling along the hillside caught his attention. Klidarg got up, idly wondering what might have caused it. He drew his blade, just in case, and peered over- Rock Ussal! He immediately realised the beast was quite a bit larger than usual and sticking from its flank was Klidarg’s spear. Unfortunately, it seemed only to anger the already aggressive Rahi, with the spear doing little damage. How did the repellent around this site not drive it away in the first place? Klidarg immediately drew Starslayer and breathed its command word. Drawing back its string, the arcane mechanisms in the weapon clicked and whirred, and sunlight seemed to pull together, forming a bolt of light nocked on the string. He loosed the bolt, and the shaft of light just missed its mark, impacting the tough upper shell of the scittering Rahi and driving a hole into its back. It screeched in defiance and continued upward. Klidarg knew he could probably outrun it, but Rock Ussal were rare, preferring to dwell around the lake; a lake that most inhabitants preferred to stay away from. If he could down it and harvest it, he might make enough to start looking for- for what? Focus! Klidarg knew he might have a chance with it in close combat, but preferred not to have to find out. He drew the string, and again another bolt formed. He steadied himself, aiming for the weaker “front face” of the Rahi, preferably its bobbing eyestalks. The Rock Ussal got closer and closer. He loosed the second bolt, and this one seared into and through the side of its face. The Ussal screeched again, but this one clearly hurt a lot more. Unfortunately, it did not slow, and due to the bolt’s straight-line traversal and the angle of slope, that was the best he was going to get. The warrior gauged that he had time for another shot before he had to engage in close, and so loosed another bolt. This one struck the joints of one of its legs, and the Ussal almost buckled, sliding down the slope, but at the last moment it regained some balance and continued upward. Its eyestalks seemed… angry. Klidarg stowed his bow and drew his chopper. The unwieldy blade was almost almost his height, and he readied it at a high guard, waiting to slam it down at the Ussal as it crested the slope. The cursed crab seemed to realise this, however, and moved sideways, away from Klidarg, hoping to crest the slope at another point. Klidarg moved to parallel it, and for a few seconds, the two mirrored their moves across the slope like some kind of pantomime. This is ridiculous. Klidarg decided to end this now and moved forward, swinging the chopper down. The Ussal moved too slow, and more of its legs were hurt by the attack. However, Klidarg had now lost his height advantage as he skidded downslope on unsure footing. The Kaiakan dropped the chopped and drew his blade as he skidded past the Ussal. It turned to snap its claws at him, but Klidarg was sliding too fast now. The warrior slowed his slide as he reached the flat surface below, but now the Ussal was charging at him downhill, albeit in an unbalanced, diagonal vector. He stayed low and readied his blade as the Ussal began to lose control of its slide, intending to strike from below at its soft underbelly. The Rock Ussal snapped ineffectually as it lost control, tumbling. His spear snapped off the Ussal at this point, and as it reached him, underbelly exposed, Klidarg stabbed. The Rock Ussal screeched a final time before it stopped moving for good. Klidarg withdrew his sabre and muttered a short prayer, before looking around to collect his discarded weapons. What a joke… From warlord turned crab dueller. It was unseemly, he knew, for a proper Kaiakan to look down on the work of hunting, but he just could not help feeling that pull of disappointment in his gut. Perhaps he really was picking too much from the Skakdi of the island. Klidarg pushed the thoughts aside as he retrieved the spearhead, shaft and chopper. At least today he would be able to make the trip to the Tooth without being empty-handed. He dragged his tools down the slope and began to wrap the Ussal for storage. A fresh catch like this was bound to make the day of some warlord taking a holiday in the Tooth. He whistled an old hunting tune as he packed up and began the trek to the Tooth, casting one last look over the Kvere and its dead waters.

whats the current recruitment for The Place's tournament? still open?

GET IN THE EXO, FIRST SPEAKER SHINJI

OOC: Recommended listening IC: Dehlia - Outskirts of Jukvere, Seprilli Island The South Cove was reasonably peaceful today, Dehlia mused to herself, 40 feet under the sea in an airtight biomechanical suit. The Hydrantia looked up as a school of fish lazily drifted past her, and took a moment to admire the way the sun pierced the peaceful sea. These days, it was not often that the sea was not disturbed by fleets of tradeships. Even the South Cove, away from the trade routes, was not spared such disturbances when the occasional damaged ship moored here. It wasn't so much the ships that made it difficult to weave underwater, since most did not yet use the automated rotors used on the largest war-junks: it was the crew who would frequently dump trash, waste, an frequently each other, into the water, ruining the floater plants that Dehlia harvested and forcing her to wait at least a month for a new batch. Worse still if she was weaving at the time, as it would disturb currents, light levels and all sorts of parameters that made it hard to weave, especially in the case of living materials. Not to mention, Dehlia simply hated interacting with the blackguards that such ships churned out, and their frequent jeers and insults. As if being indebted to a slovenly merchant-prince was so much more respectable. Dehlia pushed aside her frustration as she shifted her attention back to the work at hand. There were no shapes on the horizon, and that was good enough for today. This commission was already behind-schedule. She hummed a tune as she carefully weaved the Gul-Reed and lightvines, stopping occasionally to mend miniscule damage with a careful application of preserved spineweed. She took care to layer the pigments of the spineweed as the algae bit into the reed, the traditional way as she was taught, highlighting the symbols and decorations that she had already drawn on land into the material. The client was very particular in their instructions. Not a mere basket, but a venerable receptacle of items. Even if it was clearly just 'home decor'. Or so the client's instructions implied. Dehlia had long learnt not to be annoyed at such commissions, especially clients like the owner of Seprilli's biggest tabloid. Money was money, and exacting commissions were, if nothing else, good practice. The living pigment-adhesive, entwinement of the materials, mixed with the hardening process of the extra pressure at this depth, would be impressive enough, Dehlia hoped. The sun was beginning to set when she removed the crystal-embedded fabrics from their container. Quickly, she unfurled them and carefully pressed them along the outer layer. The fabric would fritter away in the water while the crystals slowly crushed into the main body. A quick onceover with her Kanohi confirmed that it was up to standard. Dehlia checked the sun-angle and moved from her position. Near the side of the Cove lay a small indentation into the face of the seabed. She carefully covered the item with the correct shielding, then secured it into the alcove. A day or so would be needed to "set" the material. She made a small floating mark that led to the surface. This close in to the shore, not even Skak warship would disturb the lily-pad marker. Dehlia slowly made her way to the surface, making sure not to rush. Despite the small pressure differences at this depth and her Ga-Lesterin physiology, slight pressure sickness was never fun. After about of minute or so of slow ascent, Dehlie reached the surface. As the water fell off her suit, she felt the stresses of the world again. Finding work, preparing classes, butting heads with the Guild, haranguing from her family's reps... Dehlia let out a long, tired sigh as she removed the Diving Skin. Funny how it's never the depth or swimming that tires me out... It was always a strange sensation, with her dry, simple clothes emerging from an absolutely soaked leaf-suit. At least the Cove was empty of people this day, she mused same as in the afternoon when she had entered the water. No busybody onlookers as she slowly peeled herself out of the Diving Suit, taking care not to damage it. OOC: First post pog (thanks Max). Also open for interaction I guess.

wooooo you could call it the fort-nite

I think I've got ideas for a Seprilli character but don't hold your breath

Cold lies the mountains, glimmering red Asleep till the Spawn are slain and the Tyrant is dead. Standing vigil, never to part Laying silent in the mountain's heart. 'Ere a black wind blows across the land, And our Lord returns from the sand. Fort has been approved! For anyone who wants to take a look: Fort name: Varros-Ek-Akros, the Barrowfort Controlling character: The First Speaker Location (approved forts will be marked on the official Zakaz map): Close to the dead centre of the northern Lesterii;Dak, inside an unnamed peak fringing a tepid body of water sometimes called Lake Learvar. A bit away from the eastern Lesterin settlements as well as the river leading to Kvere;Ivi but still in the middle of the Crown. Description or image: The Barrowfort is built into one of the mountains of the Crown, as a series of connected chambers. Two main entrances are hidden from view. Entrances Main Complex: Support Chambers: Shrines: Forces: The entirety of the remaining Blessed Order of the Acolytes of Ahk’Rei-Ahan Loot (this will be assigned by the staff upon approval) If anyone would like to join up, let me know!

Here comes the dead man's light Shining pale on a silent night. The ashen man is here to say: The bones have come to take you away. Most inhabitants of Zakaz know the tales of the Dead-King Ahk'Rei:Nii, General of Bones, Puppet-dancer, who centuries ago led an army of the dead at the head of the Nakihl, and of how he was defeated by four great warlords, his zealots slain to the last, and the Dead-King's bones ground to dust and burnt to ash. Legends of he and his cult have propogated in Skakdi culture, since then, and many believe he is but a boogeyman now, scary stories to make the warm nights chilly, and a warning against the dangers of Lesterin leaders. A few, however, swear that the corpse-dancers remain, their voices floating on the winds of the north. Whispers of necromancers in the forbidding northern Crown have filtered southward, which many have chalked up to wannabe warlords dabbling in magicks with the assistance of unscrupulous Nakihl or the nonsense of swindling Lesteri:Nii aiming to sell trinkets to bullheaded Skakdi. The inhabitants of the north, however, know better. There is something in the fog that rolls down from the mountains, something that takes the lost and the cursed, something that ends the careers of warlords driven north by incompetence and wanton cruelty; and it shines with an unholy purple light... The Blessed Order of the Acolytes of Ahk'Rei-Ahan TL;DR WANTED: At least 2 PCs from 2 different players for a cult-faction-fort. More would be great! You can call dibs on Loremaster and Polemarch role if you want. If you can think of some other cool ideas or positions go for it! PM me on bzp or Discord if you wish to join (you can't miss me there i'm the one being jailed for posting crimes)

MATA NUI CHARACTERS Zekev, Knight-Aberrant Greisk, Indentured Witch-Servant Lunefeld, Criminal-Princeling Dryken, The Chaplain Aysiera the Serene Zurond the Bold ZAKAZ CHARACTERS Ankrahl the Summoner, The First Speaker Acolytes of Ahk-Rei'Ahan Reference Post Cold lies the mountains, glimmering red Asleep till the Spawn are slain and the Tyrant is dead. Standing vigil, never to part Laying silent in the mountain's heart. 'Ere a black wind blows across the land, And our LORD returns from the sand. Controlled Fort: Varros-Ek-Akros; the Barrowfort, Home of the Acolytes of Ahk'Rei-Ahan Klidarg, the "Bright Lord" Kalzok, Dark Thaumaturge Sokesh, Crimson Duelist Dehlia, the Weaver Vekus, Agent Warder

edit: wow of course my gif would be smaller than the others

he tried to warn us

with thanks to @Vezok's Friend; a playlist named "Songs that could have been Bionicle" https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLvW7o41VVyAPVJDRY1GFA6CPgn54OtqOq

The original Toa Mata, I think I didn't get them all at once, but I eventually did. I was like 3 at the time and I chewed up Tahu's sword. I still have it and in fact is in my Tahu rebuilt-in-Inika-build MoC

huh good point, they never did get around to it

IC: Sanso - Taku "I'm Sanso. Proficient in, uhh, well, I can look after myself mostly. And don't worry, I won't break anything." OOC: @BULiK IC: Prasral - Tobduk-Koro A Tahtorak!? Prasral listened silently to the automatons and the councilors as they spoke of aid. OOC: @Harvali @Toru Nui

This is great! I already liked your Helryx piece but even then I can definitely see a difference in the details of shading and colouring in the newer piece.

IC: Kantai - Kini-Koro "Yeah, my place is a bit outside the village proper, but it's safe enough. Safe enough from rain, anyway," Kantai commented. He hoped Sanso would be safe on that airship, but then again, he never needed much help surviving. IC: Sanso - Taku "Song selection? "Ah, yes!" Sanso took out a series of tablets and begin listing them off. "Well, there's really too much to list right now, but let me know what your Commander prefers! There's bound to be something here, from New Flow to Post-Classical Zakazian Rhythm to Symphonic Continental Revival, and even some until-recently suppressed Nuian Wind Chants, though by the looks of things, probably not what you have in mind." IC: Prasral - Tobduk-Koro Prasral was taken aback at the sudden appearance of the automatons, but the words of the councilors cleared up the situation. "I see, thank you. Does that... situation appear to be affecting the village or on a wider scale?" OOC: @Toru Nui@Harvali@BULiK

IC: Krozen – Forest of Ash, approaching Elemental Ruin of Fire The forest was a lot more unsettling than he expected. At the beginning of the journey, Krozen was ready for the strong, choking taste of microscopic ash on the wind, and had prepared scraps of cloth across his nose and mouth for that. But as he ventured deeper, he was surprised by the difficulty of navigating barren trees. For one, an ashen, gnarled trunk looked roughly similar to another, and the ground was much more even than the average forested area. Worse still were the shrill moans on the wind. Krozen was not easily rattled, and understood that it was likely a trick of the wind powered by the warm lava flows and cold pressure clouds across the nearby coast, whistling through the unsual physical makeup of the Forest. Nonetheless, the cries were beginning to get under his skin. And speaking of skin, he was thankful for the Armour that bent and flexed with his organic exodermis. It shielded him from the heat that grew stronger as he navigated closer to the structure he had seen the previous day. It also prevented the disgusting bugs that landed on him from extracting his vital fluids. As he was swatting away the fifth such bug in as many minutes (Where do these things come from?), he finally found spotted a clearing ahead of him. The dirt path he had been navigating was rather nondescript and clearly untravelled, so the presence of some landmark in this featureless graveyard of trees was welcome. He was even more relieved to see the structure that he had spied from afar in the clearing as he approached. It towered above him even at this distance, and clearly segmented in layers. Its reflected bronze off its facade in the morning sun. His relief changed to disappointment as he realised this clearly ancient structure was abandoned. No other living beings to cajole or threaten. Krozen, for the first time since he had awoken on the beach, sighed aloud. IC: Prasral – Tobduk-Koro, approaching Elemental Ruin of Stone It was a day before Prasral returned to the shop where the merchant had told him about the non-existent caravan. Standing outside the locked doors, he rapped his knuckles on the door, calling into the shop. Despite repeating this for a few minutes, there was no response from within. “I’m not here to cause trouble, I just want to talk.” Silence. Prasral felt the rage inside him that had been building up begin to boil, made worse by the damnable weather. Without another word, Prasral punched the door in. The wooden door split and crashed into the shop. Prasral stepped in, ignoring the looks of passers-by and scanning the room for the merchant. And yet, only silence greeted him, stretching out even as he searched the room. There was nobody here. The merchant had left. “####.” Prasral felt the energy drain out of him as the realisation set in. He sighed and sat on the chair behind the counter, the same chair the merchant had been on when he sold Prasral his lies. Perhaps that was too harsh an assessment, but what right does a mere trader have to lie to a- He stopped himself. This was unbecoming of his duty and position. He needed to clear his head. The thought of the elemental ruins popped into his head. He was not one for meditation, especially towards Matoran scripture, but then again, these ruins did not truly fit that description. It would at least be a peaceful place for him to recite the mantras of the Maduralian gods. That settles it, then. Prasral left the shop and made his way towards the cliffside that held those ruins. As he approached, he saw that there already some residents gathered in small groups doing their thing. OOC: Open for interaction

IC: Kantai - Beside Gnabol below the Taku "Huh. That is strange..." Kantai knew there was occasional drizzling or heavy mist in some areas of the hills where he had his abode, but this was unsual. "I think something's wrong." IC: Sanso - On the Taku Well, this first minute on the ship certainly was not what Sanso expected, but he couldn't say he was disappointed. He waited to follow Skyra's lead. OOC: @Toru Nui @Snelly

IC: Sanso - Just inside the Taku Without a second thought, Sanso barged up the landing ramp. "Monster? Sounds great!" He tagged along with Rose and Skyra, observing what they were doing. IC: Kantai Kantai could hear the sounds of commotion from down from up on the landing pad. "They seem like they're up to something. If you want to go up the elevator now's the time." OOC: @Snelly @Tarn @Toru Nui Edited

IC: Sanso and Kantai Kantai would have followed Sanso up, but he was presently occupied by the arrival of another person. Judging by Gnabol and Padley's reactions, they knew him, and hated him. He sought to defuse the situation immediately. "No, I'm just here to look at the airship. My friend just went up the elevator. I think he's looking to join up, so that would be where the, well, line is," he said. "I'm going up to see what's going on, wanna come?" Kantai finished, shooting quick glance at Gnabol. He was hopping to take this stranger off his hands with the offer. Meanwhile, Sanso was greeted by no less than three of the crew once he got on the landing pad. Either they've got good ears or I must have tripped some alarm. "Hello! I'm Sanso, chronicler and remembrancer of the D-" he stopped himself. There was no more Dawn Society to be a remembrancer of, honestly. "Well, just a traveller. I see you've gotten yourselves an airship. You wouldn't happen to have open spots, would you?" OOC: @BULiK @Snelly @Tarn @Toru Nui

IC: Sanso - Just outside the Taku, on its landing pad While Kantai stayed on the ground level, Sanso took the elevator up to the Taku's landing pad. He couldn't help but marvel at the thing as he got closer. He had seen airships in his time, but the fact that one survived the Impact and was kitted out with weaponry and seemingly functional propulsion... The crew must have seen a lot, and have a lot to tell. OOC: Fixed description of Sanso's location to just outside the Taku on its landing pad. Taku crew feel free to interact!