Nato G

IC: Skrall - Roxtus (Barracks) If there had been any uncertainty about the cloaked Skrall's intention, his eager agreement to speak with Tirveus dispelled it. Another contender. This was good, Skrall decided. He was different to most Skrall warriors. The cloaked one was different to most Skrall warriors. The female was different to most Skrall warriors. Variety and individuality would be as valuable as any other weapons when they entered the tournament. The rigid, regimented training of their army had its place, but in a series of one-on-one fights, predictability was a weakness. If the Skrall all entered the arena with the same tools, the same training, the same tactics and techniques, then any foe who proved formidable enough to best one of them would have the knowhow necessary to best all of them. Such an outcome was unacceptable. The sameness of the Skrall was a strength. But so were their differences. He finished off his rations and followed the other Skrall.

IC: Skrall - Roxtus (Barracks) "Oh," he replied numbly, too embarrassed to even manage a comeback about it being a trick question, "Right." He'd been so fixated on trying to appear knowledgeable that he'd entirely forgotten the nature of the real geography the lines and colours on the map represented. It didn't matter. None of this speculation did, given that the decision of where to go and what route to take there would likely be made by Tirveus. If anything, Skrall's momentary mistake here perhaps offered him an advantage. The others now likely thought him a fool, and would underestimate his capabilities.

IC: Vazaria - Mashtet Fotress She almost hoped their foes would be unwise. This wasn't going to feel like much of a victory if none of their enemies perished in the effort. "Is there anything more I should know, or other preparations that need to be made?" She asked the group, as the kraata crept up her arms to settle under the armour of her shoulders, "Or shall I begin?" @a goose @Keeper of Kraata @Mel

IC: Skrall - Roxtus (Barracks) "I would be cautious in following the river," he responded, noting as he did that yet another Skrall had joined them around the map, this one not a simple soldier, but a more inconspicuous figure draped in a brown cloak, "It might be an easier route, but everything in the desert needs water, including creatures much larger than us." @Vezok's Friend @Toru Nui @Burnmad _________________________________________________________________________________________ IC: Kehla - Tajun "I... of course," she nodded, "Where do I meet you?" Kehla wasn't well-versed in the ways of the world beyond her village, but she understood enough to know that this encounter was unusual. What had she gotten herself into by knocking on this door? And what had she just agreed to? Despite the strangeness of the situation, her curiosity was piqued. She'd come to this city to learn more about the world, after all. It was only fair she tell some stories of her own in return. @Lady Takanuva

IC: Skrall - Roxtus (Barracks) "Their paths are unpaved and perilous," he observed, noting the abundance of skulls symbols on the map as he picked at his rations. "There's a route from Roxtus that branches off to Iconox and Tesara. I'm sure there are other routes known to those of us who have closer dealings with the other villages." There was no shame in admitting his ignorance in this regard. They were all soldiers here, after all (including the third Skrall he could see nearby, also observing the map) Knowing where to go was the duty of a leader, and none of them were leaders. Yet. @Vezok's Friend @Toru Nui _______________________________________________________________________________________________ IC: Kehla - Tajun "They're the same stars our ancestors once looked up at," she replied thoughtfully. "I'm sure they've seen more, know more, than any of us can even imagine... is that what the engravings are? The stories of the stars?" @Lady Takanuva

IC: Skrall - Roxtus (Outside Barracks) Perhaps against his better judgement, he did follow. It was an inevitability that at some point in the tournament, only Skrall would be left standing. Not all of them, certainly. But this warrior, training alone while others rested and awaited their orders, was the only one he'd seen so far who demonstrated the drive and determination to make it that far. The Southerners had the benefit of regularly fighting in their arenas to observe one another. The only contenders Skrall could learn more about before the tournament began were his own kin. @Vezok's Friend _____________________________________________________________________ IC: Somok - Precipere (Guardhouse) "Of course," Somok nodded, "We can reconvene at my hut if you wish to converse somewhere out of the public eye." @Geardirector @Toru Nui

IC: Skrall - Roxtus (Outside Barracks) He scoffed at the other warrior's words. The Southerners were a spoiled people. They were named from birth, had resources in abundance, yet they still squabbled amongst themselves instead of working as one like the Skrall did. That their cities and settlements had stood for so long defied all logic. "Freedom is wasted on those without something meaningful to fight for," he replied, "You strike me as one who knows its value." @Vezok's Friend

IC: Skrall - Roxtus (Outside Barracks) A passing Skrall had caught the tail end of the one-sided beatdown, watching for a few seconds before approaching the combatant who was still standing. “This one didn’t put up much of a fight,” he observed, regarding the crumpled dummy for a moment more before focusing on the warrior who'd felled it, “But I wouldn’t expect much better from the Southerners we’ll soon face.” @Vezok's Friend

Of Flesh And Faith (By Nato) Family has always been a somewhat tenuous concept among our kind. Many of the students in the ledger were related, in some way or another, but that fact meant nothing to most of them. We often referred to our Makuta as our mothers or fathers. We considered those spawned from the same Makuta as ourselves to be our brothers and sisters. But for many that relationship extended no further than passing acknowledgement of our sires and siblings, maybe slightly more loyalty or consideration, but rarely more than that. For the most part, our deepest relationships or rivalries were reserved for siblings who’d been spawned in the same batch as us, the ones who spent considerable time with during our upbringings. They were the ones we forged the closest connections with, who we often found ourselves fighting beside. Or against. I glanced briefly at a small display case on the edge of my desk. Within it was an old barbed arrowhead, the last memento I still had from my own sister, Sliver. She’d once sought to destroy me, and I’d ultimately been forced to reply in kind. Ours had not been a happy family. There were some exceptions, though. Bitil had named and themed many of his children around the archaic alphabet of some old language, and that group had held a great degree of affection for each other. I’d met a fair few of them during my time at Corpus Rahkshi: Epsilon, Omicron, Alpha… Omega. I’m sorry. If I had my time over… But I don’t. There’s no bringing back the lost. There was another Rahkshi family who made a name for themselves, a disgruntled group whose strained relationships left impacts on the world long after their time at Corpus Rahkshi was at an end. The so-called “gothic siblings”, who were sired by the Makuta of Stelt: the self-proclaimed god twins Ezec and Aza, their rival Thurisaz, the sun-obsessed son Sugil, Geuua the tinkerer, the oft-underestimated younger sister Reda, and others whose names and stories never reached the walls of Corpus Rahkshi. Long after their time at the school, two of those siblings were stationed on Xia during the closing days of the war between the Order Of Mata Nui and the Brotherhood of Makuta. Only one of them lived to tell the tale. * * * Geuua Xia, The Destiny War More than a thousand years had passed since I’d lost it, but my missing hand still ached. Most beings tend to dismiss the armoured suits we Rahkshi wear as a mundane machine, easily repaired or replaced. Even some new breed Rahkshi feel that way, discarding their suits when they’re damaged or disabled. But I’ve never seen it that way. I still wore the same armour I’d been spawned with, repairing and enhancing and adding to it countless times over the centuries. It wasn’t about sentiment. It was about respect. Each suit of Rahkshi armour was made from a kraata, doused and drowned in a vat of viruses and energised protodermis. One life sacrificed, to create a different kind of life. Our suits have bones and blood and muscles and nerves. Through our armour, we can see, hear, and feel, including pain. Even the phantom pain that comes with a lost limb. I could feel it now, a persistent painful ache from a mangled hand that had long since been replaced by an Earth Claw prosthetic. It often hurt the most before times of disaster or danger, as if the pain from my past was seeking to warn me of what awaited me in the future. It didn’t take much work to guess what it was warning me of this time. Since I’d arrived in Xia a few days ago, the island had endured one disaster after another. First a Tahtorak had suddenly appeared in the centre of the city, then it had started a fight with the karzing Kanohi Dragon, then a bunch of Toa had showed up to subdue them both, leaving just as quickly, and now the entire force of the Dark Hunters were in a fleet offshore poised to either take the island by force or raze it to ruin. And I was here dealing with it all because Antroz was apparently busy elsewhere and my Makuta couldn’t be bothered teleporting over from Stelt to supervise the island in-person. He’d always been indolent and withdrawn, but lounging about while the rest of the Brotherhood went to war was a new low. Now, here I was, helping my brother Sugil and a few dozen Vortixx loyal to the Brotherhood try to muster some feeble defence against the coming invasion. We were taking up position near the docks, installing cannons and barricades across the main street in preparation to repel the Dark Hunters when they made it ashore. It was a pitiful defence, doomed to fail. Just like our attempt to stop the Kanohi Dragon had. And the Tahtorak before that. And- “Grow a spine,” Sugil snarled, leering at me from a few bio away. “These bickering brutes are nothing compared to the might of the Makuta.” I glanced at him for only a moment before looking away again. Beyond being obnoxious to deal with, he was loathsome to even look at. Among the many advantages the new breed Rahkshi had over the old was greater resistance to the adverse effects of light, but Sugil had always sought to push past resistance to full immunity, even mastery, and after centuries of pain and patience, he’d succeeded. Nowadays he had shards of lightstones embedded directly into the plating of his garishly glossy purple-and-gold armour, effectively turning his entire suit into a mobile lens flare. His weapon, a spiked mace, was similarly studded with lightstone shards. If we were fighting other Rahkshi, it might have actually been useful. But against literally anything else, it just made him a more obvious target. There were a number of things I wanted to say to him. Starting with some remark about it being rude to read my mind and ending with a mention of the fact that there were no Makuta here. But given that he could hear my thoughts long before I gave voice to them, I didn’t bother opening my mouth. “In their absence, we are their chosen ones,” he proclaimed, gesturing grandly with his glittering sceptre. “I am untouchable! I’ll know their plans before they even put them into action. And you can destroy all they bring to bear against us.” Any other day, I might have been astounded by his decision to compliment me, but in this situation his words were a gross exaggeration of both my abilities, and his own. “And how are you going to hear what they’re thinking when they’re all the way over there?” I retorted, pointing out at the distant fleet, “They can sit there in their boats and bomb us until there’s no one left to oppose them.” “Then we fire back.” “With what? Most of what the Vortixx didn’t already sell to the Brotherhood got stomped to bits by the two giant monsters that just trashed half the city.” The Vortixx standing around us murmured among themselves. They couldn’t understand our words, given that we were conversing in kraata-speak, but they could clearly tell that we were arguing, and my earlier gesture had indicated exactly what we were arguing about. “What would you have us do, then? Surrender the city?” “Sure, why not? Seems like the best way to actually survive.” I wasn’t a warrior like most Rahkshi had been raised to be. I was an engineer, a tinkerer, someone who understood how to build things up or put them back together when they were broken. I understood that sometimes the simplest solutions were the best ones, and that sometimes a failed project simply needed to be abandoned. Living as a prisoner of the Dark Hunters was preferrable to perishing in a futile fight against their forces. Of course, Sugil disagreed. His worldview, his very personality, was constructed around steadfast confidence not only in the superiority of our species, but his own superiority over other Rahkshi. He brandished his glorified glowstick in my direction and let out a guttural growl, “You would dare betray our glorious cause? I always knew you were weak, little sister, but this sacrilege is a step too far.” “Our glorious cause? The Makuta have stretched themselves thin trying to wage a war with the whole universe at once. Do you see any Brotherhood army here, brother? They’ve abandoned Xia, and us.” “The Makuta didn’t abandon us,” Sugil switched to the common tongue, clearly trying to inspire the Vortixx with his words, “They trust us to triumph in their stead!” I just shook my head and sighed. There was no sense in arguing with him. He truly believed every word of what he said. His faith in himself as a superior specimen of our species, his mindless blind belief in the brilliance of the Brotherhood… it was everything to him. It was who he was, who he’d always been, who he always would be. In a way, I almost envied him for being so sure of himself, deluded though he was. But I wasn’t like him. And I was glad of it. “If you want to die for your pride, go right ahead,” I scoffed, turning away, “I’ll sit on the sidelines and see how this thing pans out.” “You would turn your back on this family?” He lapsed back into kraata-speak as he leaped forward to cut me off, “After everything we’ve done for you? Everything I’ve done for you?” “After everything you’ve done?” The fingers of my Earth Claw snapped together with a metallic twang as I whirled back around to jab the prosthetic appendage in his direction, “You destroyed my hand, beat me half to death, bullied and belittled me for most of my life… and you expect me to be grateful?” “Pain is the path to perfection, dear sister,” Sugil’s faceplates shifted into a smug smile, “I had to burn before I could embrace the light. You had to break before you could build.” “You didn’t do it for my benefit. You did it because you’re a bully who thinks he’s better than everyone else.” “Because I am.” The way he said it was what finally broke me. He’d said it before. So many times, in so many ways, that I’d grown numb to it. But hearing it now, spoken with such conceited certainty despite the failures of recent days and the enemy fleet standing by to obliterate us at any moment… it was too much. I went numb. I stopped caring about family, or fear, or my father’s wrath. I stopped caring about the consequences. He was alone. Our father wasn’t here. No one who mattered was. No one who could stop me was. I don’t remember actually drawing my warhammer. I just remember it swinging, and Sugil scampering out of the way, his mind reading allowing him to anticipate and evade the blow before it had even begun. I heard angry cries from the Vortixx, heard the whirrs and whines of their launchers charging, and the steely scrape of weapons being unsheathed. But the sounds ceased a second later as I brought my powers to bear, projecting an arcing aura of molecular disruption that reduced their armour and armaments to atoms, destroying most of the defences we’d set up as well. Sugil, once again sensing my intent, scrambled back to a safe distance while the now-vulnerable Vortixx scattered in fear. “What have you done?” He raged, “Now we have nothing!” “Now you have nothing,” I corrected. There was no flashy fight in the moments that followed. We were at a stalemate, and we both knew it. His power would allow him to know any move I intended before I made it. And mine could destroy any weapon or projectile he sent my way. Neither of us could get close to the other. Neither of us could do any harm to the other. The difference between us was that I was perfectly content to stand here until the Dark Hunters came to destroy us both. But Sugil wasn’t. I didn’t need to be a mind reader to see the rage roiling within him. Nothing but his own pride was stopping him from simply walking away, but I knew that was enough. He wanted to win. He needed to, even though he knew it was impossible. So he made his move. His lightstone-studded staff suddenly flashed towards me, flung like a spear. I disrupted it asunder on instinct, only to find myself suddenly blinded by the resulting burst of brightness as the solid pieces of lightstone became a glowing cloud of dazzling dust. Credit where it was due, Sugil’s rage and desperation hadn’t driven him to stupidity; his strategy actually had some sense to it. But I didn’t need to see him to know what he was doing, or how to stop it. I know how to break things. As he ran at me, claws no doubt poised to strike at my eyes or throat, I exerted my power on the ground between us. Its molecules disrupted, the dirt essentially became intangible, and I heard Sugil cry out as he sunk, stumbled, and sprawled forward. And I know how to rebuild them. I released my disruption field, returning the ground to its natural state, before pushing through the haze of stinging lightstone dust to focus on the sight beyond it. Sugil lay prostrate on the grimy cobblestones, all four of his limbs now trapped in the ground. He refused to look up at me, even as I hefted my hammer and raised it high. He knew what was going to happen next. * * * Of course, there was no consequences for Geuua’s decision. Within days, the Makuta and almost all that they had made were gone, and those of us that remained found ourselves living in a very different universe. Spilling her brother’s blood bought Geuua an audience with the Shadowed One, and whatever she said to him earned her a position in his organisation. As far as anyone knows, she’s still working with the Dark Hunters to this day. Even in this new world, that group continues to cast their shadow. Geuua’s choice is saddening, but not surprising. After so long spent dwelling in the dark, literally and figuratively, some of our kind are simply incapable of finding our way into the light. To some, the light was never anything more than a weapon to be wielded against us.

The Duckbricks fanon contests have really got me back into building, both digitally and physically. I've also been working on a fanfic in my spare time and been gradually making MOCs of all the characters to get myself into the headspace.

IC: Somok - Precipere (Guardhouse) He cast only a sparing glance towards Xyde as they arrived. The admission of failure was irritating (but not unexpected under the current circumstances), but seeing that another of his wandering villagers had returned home safely brought comfort enough to Somok to overcome his disappointment. "There is much that needs to be done," he nodded in agreeance with Salwa's words, "But I don't want anyone travelling out there alone right now, and I can't be diverting entire groups of scouts and hunters from their duties..." His perpetual frown deepened further as he found himself being forced to consider the one obvious solution he'd been so desperately hoping to avoid. "Vulcanus will undoubtedly be sending a party to investigate Ferrum... they could use a guide to traverse the canyon, and perhaps even a healer," he pointed to Salwa and Xyde, "Travelling with them would be safer for you, and if you were to assist them it would give them less cause to suspect us in whatever misfortune may have befallen the Iron Tribe." @Geardirector @Toru Nui

IC: Vazaria - Mashtet Fortress "They sound perfect," she returned the Datsue's smile as she cradled the creatures in her arms, "Thank you." Behind the smile, however, one final doubt still hid. Was she deserving of the praise, of the faith of her new allies? She'd come here alone, full of confidence, only to meet with foes she couldn't defeat and allies far more capable than she was. She didn't feel like a champion... yet. But once she'd razed this rock of its resources, left the empire with nothing but ash and anguish... "You said you'd identified the ideal areas to light our first fires," she turned back to Caana, "Where?" @a goose @Keeper of Kraata

IC: Vazaria - Mashtet Fortress "Of course," she nodded, her serene façade cracking slightly as eager anticipation surged through her. She wanted to be the one to light the fires, to inflict on her enemies the same pain she'd suffered. After everything she'd endured... she'd earned this. "Whatever you need." @a goose

IC: Vazaria - Mashtet Fortress "I don't even know how many we had to begin with," she admitted, "The Rahkshi aren't the most... conversational." @a goose

IC: Vazaria - Mashtet Fortress She returned the nod as she moved over to look at the map. "You know our enemy better than I. Where will they be?" @a goose

IC: Vazaria – Mashtet Fortress Vaza’s bleary eyes blinked open. Slivers of moonlight were slicing down through gaps in the rotted roof overhead, silvery swords slashing at the shadows that Vaza was sheltering in. It was midnight, or near enough to it. It was time to begin. Time to end. She sat up, dust and splinters falling away as she moved. She didn’t remember falling asleep. All she remembered was righteous rage and savage sorrow, eventually followed by a surprising sense of certainty that she found strangely comforting. She looked down to the pendant clutched in her other hand, the green crystal appearing brown in places from the blood that had dried on it. Such a small, insignificant thing. It wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else, but for her it was a sign. A sign that she’d made the right choice. A sign that she was where she was meant to be, doing what she was meant to do. She stepped out into the corridor and made her way back towards the main chamber to reunite with her allies. There was no hesitancy in her now. Her doubts had been dispelled. Her path was clear. The children of Zataka had avenged her family. Now it was time for her to repay that debt. @a goose

IC: T’harrak – Fleeing Fort Garsi The earth quaked and quavered underfoot as T’harrak ran. She glanced behind her for a moment, her x-ray vision piercing the fog to reveal the imposing spires of stone and tangles of snaring steel spearing up out of the hillside. She could see the dim silhouettes of Skakdi impaled upon some of them, squirming and screaming and raining liquid crimson down onto the dirt. In that momentary glance, she couldn’t tell if the dead and dying were friend or foe. In all likelihood, it was a mix of both; Ipsudir's vague announcement over the speaker had offered little time for Fort Garsi’s forces to react or get out of the way. The implications of the horrific scene felt T’harrak with a new kind of terror. Ipsudir could have deployed the collapsing hillsides or stone spikes as soon as Zanakra’s forces had arrived, but she’d instead sent out her full force of bikes and rahi riders, deploying trap after trap with her own warriors caught in the crossfire. She’d been toying with them from the start. This was a warlord who had no regard for her own people or resources, who’d chosen prolonged bloodshed over efficiently dispatching her enemies. Jojax… Sohmak… T’harrak… even Zanakra herself… none of them had been ready to face an enemy this ruthless, dispassionate, and well-prepared. "Boss, where to now?" The voice was familiar, but the title wasn’t, and it took T’harrak a few moments to realise that Sohmak was directing the question at her. Boss? No… I’m not… don’t… “Back the way we came,” she blurted out, saving her protests for later, “Back to the boats. Back home.” If they made it that far… Between the fog and the sea of stone spikes now behind them, she hoped any remaining snipers wouldn’t have clear sightlines on the retreating group. But in the chaos, she’d completely lost track of the two rahi riders, and there was no telling if they or anyone else were planning to pursue. @Techn0geist @ARROW404 @Sparticus147 @Mel

For most of us, this strange new world was a promise and an opportunity, a fresh start, a chance to play our part in the foundation of a new future. We put our pasts behind us, focused on playing our parts and earning our places among the other races. But some among us could never let go of the mad ambitions that made us. Some embraced the delusions of godhood that the Makuta once clung to. And with the Makuta now gone, some have sought to fill the void their makers left behind… Warrior, King, God (By UltimoScorp) Warrior, Destroyer, The White Mountain, Brother, Traitor, Friend, King, God. Ezec had many names and titles, some which mattered to him and many more that did not. Many, many years had passed since he had strode through the stone doors of Corpus Rahkshi with Aza beside him. She no longer lived, having proved unfit for Godhood. He alone had braved that insidious silver pool and emerged forever changed. After such a trial, none could deny that Ezec was indeed divine. None that wished to live, anyway. He basked in his new power, gathering followers and sycophants alike. After a time he became a god-king of a mountain city, perched upon the peak. For generations he ruled and led and destroyed and rebuilt. Until the fateful day that the mountain awoke with fury and fire. Ash and lava destroyed the mountain city, and all within it. All but Ezec. Undying, he was buried in the volcanic flow and trapped within in unyielding stone prison. Death could not take him, but neither could he free himself. Hundreds of years passed. Enough for him to descend into raving lunacy and pull himself back to sanity. Was it divine power or simple luck that prospectors inadvertently freed him searching for precious metals or stones? None can say for certain. Whatever the case, he wanders now, a God with no worshippers, a king with no subjects, a warrior with no war. Whispers abound that he searches for death, for a way to leave the shell of his body behind and move to the next world, whatever that may be. So be warned, if you travel the wastes and encounter the great White Mountain King, he may seek his death at your hands. And if you cannot provide it, you may find your own death at his!

I honestly really liked Dume because he was one of the few characters in Bionicle who really went against the stereotypes associated with his status/species. Generally Turaga are portrayed as enigmatic, sometimes a little eccentric, but ultimately wise and insightful. In contrast, though, Dume was almost a straight-up villain. He was ruthless and conceited, unwilling to compromise on anything. He ran his city like a police state, oppressing and borderline-enslaving the Matoran he was supposed to protect. He was so stubborn and prideful that he straight-up states that would rather let the entire city be destroyed than even pretend to accept help from the Dark Hunters. I would've loved to see him get some kind of comeuppance when the Turaga Metru and Matoran returned to the city, though I suppose the fact that barely anyone remembers what he did would've made it difficult to punish him.

IC: Somok - Precipere The old man's wrinkled brow furrowed further, "And who would you have us send for such a task? The guards who are supposed to protect this village? Or perhaps hunters like yourself, who we so desperately need to gather our food?" His frustration was directed as much at her as it was towards himself, and the situation in general. He wanted to act, but couldn't see any easy way to safely do so, not without diverting more people from their duties and risking their lives in the canyon. @Geardirector

I wasn't too bothered by Gorast and Bitil. They were sufficiently bonkle-sounding, and distinct enough from existing names to stand out on their own. But Krika specifically did very much annoy me, because we already had a Krekka and a Krahka and Krana and Kraata and probably a few more samey names I can't recall off the top of my head.

Ninjago replaced Bionicle only in the sense that it became Lego's next long-running, story-focused theme. It grew to fill the niche that Bionicle left behind, after other attempts at Constraction themes fell short of the mark. While Ninjago itself isn't to blame, I would argue that the rise of themes like Ninjago were among the factors that contributed to Bionicle's demise. While past Lego themes have certainly had barebones stories, Bionicle was the first theme to be massively narrative-driven, with rich lore and lots of multimedia tie-ins. And when that proved successful Lego started making other themes in the same vein, with a bunch of themes getting books or animated shows, to the point where they were oversaturating their own market.

I've recommended this before, but if you're interested in concept stuff, please check out the Prototypes page on BS01. Everything you've posted in these threads can be found there, and most of them are better quality than wherever you've been scrounging up these images from.

IC: Somok - Precipere "You've spent more time than most out there," Somok said, reluctance clear in his voice, "How would you recommend we respond to this situation?" Rare was the day Somok asked another for advice, but he knew his limitations. He was almost at an age where he needed two hands to count the number of decades it had been since he'd left Precipere. As knowledgeable as he acted, the world beyond this village was foreign to him now. He'd already weighed up the other options, and found them lacking. Pretending things were business as usual when they clearly weren't would only put more lives at risk, and after the loss of Behjen's hunting party the Ash Tribe couldn't afford to lose any more hunters or warriors. And as much as Somok wanted to simply hunker down and let Vulcanus sort out the problem, he didn't trust they could manage it in a timely manner, if at all. The Ash Tribe were reliant on being able to hunt in the canyon for food; they had stores, of course, but if they were cut off for more than a few weeks there were going to be problems. He needed a new option from a fresh perspective, and Salwa seemed the best choice. @Geardirector

IC: Somok - Precipere "Backfired or not, 'whatever happened' has left food scarce and tensions high," Somok said, scowling, "Word from the guards who escorted Kehla to Vulcanus is that the Fire Tribe are getting restless. I wouldn't be surprised if we see a party poking around the canyon soon enough." It went without saying that the Ash Tribe would make for easy scapegoats for whatever misfortune had befallen Ferrum. @Geardirector