GoSP

Hi Toa Fanixe. At the moment, a horn has just gone off, giving the recruits a signal that they should gather at the central tower. Once everyone is there, Nidhiki will introduce the next stage of training. For more details on this, check out Lorax's post above.

IC: The sound of a horn blared out across the compound. It was a signal that all new recruits should gather underneath the tower to await new instructions.

IC (Huntsman): Acanon chuckled a little at Kohu's question. It seemed that he still had a little of that eagerness about him, a and confidence in his own skills that, by now, was well founded. If he were put back into the same situation today, he might have told Kohu to take the shot. "You were a good scout and a reasonable shot too, but by far the least experienced member of the team. When one stray shot could have alerted the Toa to our presence and ruined the ambush, we were best to take a slower, more careful plan that made the most of our surprise, and the skills of the other soldiers on the team."

I'll reply to Kohu before i go

Okay, quick announcement time: Both Lorax and I will be away until after easter, so try not to burn the place down while we're gone. When we return, Nidhiki and co. will also be coming back with their assessments and skills to work on for each of the recruits. That's all for now, have fun.

IC (Screamer): "A carnivore?" Screamer said in her strange, clicking voice. She then continued, musing over her words before becoming sharper as she reached her conclusions. "Meat, I can provide. Steaks, will take longer. I must butcher another, but I think the next will die soon. Yes. You shall have your feed by sundown. Now, begone with you! I have work to do." She shooed the two out before slamming the door behind them, and buzzing away into the back. It wasn't long before another sound issued form the storehouse, sounding like a pained scream. IC (Huntsman): While he found Kohu's practicality admirable, Acanon's own nostalgia was not to be derailed. He was sunk in too deep, and couldn't be pulled out now until he had finished reminiscing properly. He continued the story as he strolled along beside Kohu. "Yes, yes. Smaller than the army to be sure, but more like the team we took to Artidax. It was a bit of a scramble, wasn't it? Our army had pushed the Skerans back to their last fortress, up on those cliffs beside the sea, when we got word that the Toa Artidax had had a change of heart. They didn't want to sit in their own fortress any more, but to stop us before we could reach their island. "That really set the muaka among the gukko. With the Toa's help, there was no doubt that the Skerans would be able to hold out against us, or even force us to retreat. Carapar would have been furious. And yet, we could hardly leave to confront the Toa in numbers: the Skerans were on the back foot, but far from defeated. "And so: the team. A few of our best warriors and specialists, sneaking out of camp in the dead of night so that no-one in the fortress would suspect we were gone. We travelled light, and fast, finding our way through rough lands while keeping a watch out for any sign of the Toa. It was you who found them, wasn't it? Just as they were setting up their camp for the night. We sprung our ambush, beat the Toa, and I claimed my mask. By the time we made it back to the rest of the army, we were all haggard, but after that it wasn't long before the Skerans learned that no help was coming and accepted defeat."

IC (Huntsman): "Right, but a promising one, to be sure." Acanon agreed. "I had just been promoted also, after Carapar's forces had taken and secured the lands around Poneke. He declared that the city would be his capital, but also set his sights on the nearer Southern Islands. When he left the continent, he decided to split his forces: he would take the majority into the eastern chain, while my division and I would secure the less populated islands in the west." IC (Screamer): Having finished patching up the remainder of the fresh meat, Screamer hustled back to her lair. She had performed several healings already today, and would have to replenish her resources soon. It was a messy job, but someone had to do it. When she arrived at the storehouse, however, she found the same two recruits who had visited earlier, loitering around her door. She clicked agitatedly as she withdrew a ring of keys from within her chitinous exoskeleton and began to open up. "You again!" She hissed. "What do you want now?"

IC (Huntsman): "You weren't?" Acanon was momentarily taken aback by this statement, it not having occurred to him that Kohu would try to test his memory. And now that the test was done, the results perturbed him. It had been dozens of millennia since he and Kohu had last spoken to one another, but he had thought that his memory was sound. They had shared several important events, after all. "Shall we lay it out, then, where we were and when, back in the League, just so we're clear? So we don't have to be testing or lying or sneaking around with each other?" He hoped Kohu would agree to this. Partly, he wanted to reassure himself about his own recollections, but also because he would rather have a friend with whom he could talk with in a straightforward manner, without all the secrecy and betrayal that was common among the Dark Hunters. Long ago, Acanon had liked Kohu, as he had been a reliable and skilled team mate, and the Murau hoped that he could be again.

IC (Huntsman): Now it was Acanon's turn to look confused. "You mean the siege of Ngaio? I could have sworn I sent you back to Skeres with the news that Carapar had been delayed, and to encourage the garrison there with word of the coming reinforcements." Despite his outward assurances, the question worries Acanon. He had mentally relived the early years of Carapar's conquest so many times, dwelling on the glory and struggle of those campaigns in the years since when times were hard and hope seemed thin. Could it be possible that some, or even much, of that was built on fantasy and misrememberings? IC (Storehouse): Idgaddiy's call went unanswered. In fact, the door to the storehouse was locked and barred. Screamer was still back at the arena gate, patching up those recruits whose spars had left them worse for wear.

IC (Nidhiki): Nidhiki raised an eyebrow at Idgaddiy's unusually formal terms of address. It did show respect though, which he liked. 'Your honour'? He could get used to that. "A supply of bread and diakapi eggs is maintained in the barracks. For any more specific nutritional needs of your species, you will have to visit the storehouse and arrange something with Screamer." So saying, Nidhiki set off towards the central tower with the other Dark Hunters.

IC (Votadox and Nidhiki): A lie here and there can make the world a better place. But the lie that I was surprised by Nidhiki’s attack would benefit nobody. Therefore I won’t voice it. There are other things I won’t do, too. I won’t tell you about my tactical thoughts: I didn’t have time to think them. I won’t describe my cutting comeback: I didn’t have the incentive to make one. On the absolute contrary, I was very motivated to do one thing in particular: get out of the way. Trying to look nonchalant while launching backwards at top speed isn’t an easy feat. But what would be the point if it was? With this in mind, I leap away from Nidhiki as his weapon arcs towards me; at the same time, I use my Crast. He’s flung backwards, and so am I. We land apart, and my heart’s admittedly racing. I can see this opponent won’t be turning into sand - or any other cop-out move like that - any time soon. I stand lightly on my feet. He matches me. I glance at him before the game’s next move...I can see him glinting with sharp intellect...certainly a more worthy opponent. I don’t have time to think much more than that, due in large part to Nidhiki vaulting forwards with the speed of a storm. His weapon’s drawn - its edge as subtle and gleaming as his angular eyes. With a swift movement I draw my own weapon and shoot, the blast rupturing forwards towards the instructor. There’s a blur, and it swings past him. Karz. A moment later, he’s upon me. The whistling scythe is swinging again, and I duck with a sharp hasty movement. But I know how to do this, I’m sure. I know how to turn an attack against an enemy - how to let a weapon hurt its bearer. So in a split second I’m behind Nidhiki, spinning, and smashing him in the back with the gun’s barrel. One crunch later, and he’s facing me again. He whisks the scythe sideways. But I’m too fast, I dart around him. I’m behind him again, lobbing a makeshift club at him. But he’s too fast too. He’s also turned, my weapon zinging off his blade in high-pitched voice. Doesn’t matter, I’m soon telling myself. Movement is the key. I’m soon sliding under him, this time shooting him in the back as his weapon over-balances. But he’s half-turned; the blast misses, snatched at by the air. We circle each other. But I’m confident, sorry to say. I know how to do this. I’ll wait for his move, then turn it against him. I might even throw in a ‘Stop hitting yourself’. I smile intolerably. Seconds pass, and I’m starting to get bored. He’s keeping his distance. His mundane feet are brushing the mundane ground. I’m disappointed. I had such high hopes for this fight. I dreamt of enticing action and brilliant acrobatic displays. I anticipated daring duels, interspersed with unrealistically witty banter. I wanted a fight to live for, a fight to die for, every second more thrilling than the last-- This is when the air blast arrives: poetic, really. I’m hurled backwards. I skid into the sandy ground, stumbling to my feet an instant later. The attack’s successor arrives shortly thereafter. I dodge, leaping to the side. Nidhiki’s further away by now. Come closer, come closer! I hiss inside my head. (Saying it out loud would doubtless waste resources). A third whirlwind completes the hat-trick. I evade again. Then more and more come. And more, and more. I leap and whirl, and throw in the occasional dodge and dive. Not to mention the ducks and swerves. OK, OK: I’m being flippant, but this is getting serious. He’s moved even further away. I can’t fire at him from this range: he’ll just dissipate the blast. He needs to come to me. By this stage a very mild form of worry is setting in. That in itself worries me. I’ve been battered by a few of the assaults, and the rest have worn me out. From my vantage point atop a wall, I take a potshot at him with an attempt at apathy. Meanwhile I squint, my voice ringing with a goading “Oh. Alright. Bye bye, then.”. I don’t get a reply, and my poor baby blast is ruthlessly shredded by the sky. I grimace. My grimace is soon wiped from my face. Likewise, I’m wiped from the wall. The primary cause is a hurricane the tears me out of place and flings me down. I’m thrown around and, let me tell you, considerably bruised. When I get my bearings back, Nidhiki is gone. I stare around wild eyed. I’m in the middle of an arena, surrounded by blocks and aesthetically displeasing pieces of wall: he could be anywhere. My launcher is ready. I scan the shadows. I search the wind for his whereabouts. I see a movement out of the corner of my eye and spin. My gun is levelled in an instant, but nothing’s there. Why isn’t he just fighting me, face to face? I’m getting a-- I’m kicked to the ground by a jarring force. I scramble back to my feet. There's no-one there. Another blast from my right punches me in the chest. I’m flung sideways. I shoot off in its general direction. I can feel fear. But that’s fine, I know it’s there, I know how to use it-- A hand grabs my neck, slamming me to the ground. I leap to my feet - he must be in range! - but he’s gone again. I shouldn’t have bothered standing, really. Because as soon as I do, I’m smashed against a wall. I shake with intensity as I try to get myself free, but the air is rushing in my face, plastering me to the stone, rattling and slamming me again and again and again. But for a moment I see a shadow in front of me; its semi-tangible. I reach for it. Then I’m pulled to the side, face colliding with the dirt. I taste blood and grit. But now I’m angry. I’ve met ####s like him before. Always hiding. Always running. I feel my cuts and bruises, and my heart pounds to see them returned. The last time I felt like this ended with someone in quite a few different pieces. And that someone wasn’t me. The wind whips me. I can’t carry on like this. I’ll just be worn down. I need a change of plan. I need to take the fight to him, I resolve. I catch sight the shadow again, further away still. I jog towards the movement, weapon raised. I skid round a corner. A space, hidden between two close walls. And he’s there. I’m flung back, but I’m already shooting. I land on my feet, stumbling, regaining my balance, rushing at him. He’s cornered. Another blast, but I pirouette to the side. He glances upwards, ready to dart away. A shot from my Bludgeon sends rubble down. He nimbly avoids it, but is hurled backwards by my Crast. I try not to get excited, but I am. I’m driving him back. Another mask-blast slides him further down the corridor. And another. And another. I need to press my advantage. I sprint forwards, gun and mask pummeling him into submission. I’m leading the fight now. I feel uncharacteristically triumphant. But that may be due to the lack of triumphs in my life. Now I’m close enough to shoot point blank then batter him with the barrel. I elect to do so. An upper-cut, a left hook, and other moves too unruly to be named. I don’t duck or slide or weave: that would be wasteful when I can hammer and punch and smash. I was reactive before; but now I’m truly active. He looks uncertainly dizzy. But he has enough tact to rip my gun from my hands with his element, tossing it away. Karz! But I can’t falter. I’ve simply got to keep attacking. One pause and the tides will turn. Both of us are fatigued, I think. But we’re tearing at each other. Smashing and striking with faster and faster, harder and harder blows. I slam against him with my mask power. I can’t stop, can’t falter. We’re both whirlwinds of frenzied energy. In this unpoetic and dark corner, all I can see is him in front of me. All I can do is attack. My mask is my second choice, but there’s not much choice left. I use it. He counters. I return an attack. My mask is hooked off my face and flung away. But I can’t give up. I whip out my knives, my last resort. Slashing, stabbing. Scythe blade rushing past in waves, just dodging. Shadows flickering in the rushed, frantic, claustrophobic space. Sounds of clattering metal, sliding metal, crumpling metal. Fevered movement in a fevered moment. Manic movement. Knives pulled away, so now I’m tearing into him with my bare fists. Caught on the shoulder by the scythe. Can’t give up. Got to press my advantage. Got to lead the fight. Desperate punching. Furious, wild speed. I’m battered to my knees, knuckles bloodied, energy expended. He raises a weapon, ready to end it. I...fear...I killed the other one...he won’t hesitate to kill me. I stare him in the eyes, my own eyes wide, mouth agape, body trembling with the effort of sluggish movement and with pain and fatigue. I tried everything. I changed my tactics. I changed my whole...system. I pressed my advantage. I moved to him. Now I’ll probably die for that. How annoyingly...cliche. He swings the weapon at me. He puts his whole weight into it. I raise my arms, push myself away. And I can’t help myself, I shout: “Stop!Stop! Stop!” And for a tiny moment he does. He looks unable to do anything, unable to even breath. He looks like he’s wondering what he’s doing. Of course. I hardly realised I was doing it. I almost forget to attack. But then I do. I push upwards. Onto my feet. Arm outstretched. Arcing towards his head. Fist in a neat, sharp shape. It’s about to land when he snaps out of it. His arm shoots outwards, grabbing my wrist. Then, in one pragmatic movement, he smashes me in the head. I fall back to the grimy ground. What little light there is fades.

To those who are waiting on me - I'm sorry for taking so long. Real life has struck again, unfortunately. That said, I hope to have a bunch of free time tomorrow, enough to put in a burst of RP and clear the backlog. Thank you for your patience with this.

IC (Huntsman): "One thing from the fight I still don't understand: when did you lose your weapon? Once I caught up to you, you didn't have anything to defend yourself with but those crossbow bolts, but I can't think of anything I might have done to make you lose your knives. Or is it still knives that you carry?" Acanon remembered the pair of knives Kohu used to carry back in the days of the League. Even then, he had been more of a ranged fighter, but the eager young warrior had taken great pride in sharpening and oiling up his blades every night in his tent. It probably wasn't strictly necessary, but Acanon still fondly remembered the display of enthusiasm. OOC: I'm making up another character's backstory here, so please tell me if you'd rather Acanon remember something different. Kohu is your character, after all.

I'd say your effort and creativity were fine - the execution of the ideas just let you down a bit. A makuta-created freezing powered rahi could be really good, if refined and communicated a little better. You're right that there are some insanely powered BIONICLE characters, but in RPGs we tend to shy away from that, just to make the story a little more interactive. It's not very fun or interesting if Konu-To steps in and melts all of Metru Nui to the ground before anyone can do anything about it, so we don't have nova blasts or similar powers. Instead, he would have to fight and freeze everybody individually, because that would provide some challenge and story value. Its the same with the other characters in this game. Some of them have some very powerful abilities, but those abilities still need to be used with skill and creativity in order to achieve the best results.

IC (Mimic): "You fell awkwardly and blacked out there for a second, so technically no, you did not win. You probably should have, though, were it not for this ill luck. I was in a very vulnerable position, and would have conceded if you had landed well." Mimic helped the Vortixx to his feet and then started walking back towards the gate. "You may wish to have Screamer take a look at your head, just in case there are any lasting effects of your fall."