Unreliable Narrator

IC: Reliable Narrator | Mi-Kiri IC: Reliable Narrator | Mi-Kiri The rahkshi’s metal body crunched into the stonework and vines, glass windows beneath blossoming with cracks and fissures from the impact. The rahkshi held onto the vines on the side of the tower, then quickly scanned the surroundings for another safe place to travel. With a soft pop of air filling space once occupied by mass the rahkshi disappeared and reappeared in its new location. Teleportation was a tricky power, made harder by the constant application of Sorilax’s other abilities. For now he was confident in his abilities of remote observation, obfuscation, and surveillance. However, not even Sorilax could imagine such powers were endless. When the rahkshi clung to the building, Sorilax noticed the interior had a metal staircase descending between floors, along with a sloping ramp that cork-screwed around the outside wall. Now, on the ground, Sorilax noticed a long and thick bundle of wires winding through the ruins of the district. The bundle of wires was guarded by more of those two-legged creatures he’d seen earlier, but they were walking on all fours and using their staff-like tools as improvised appendages for their forearms -- curious! OOC @Kal the Guardian, edited per our conversation

IC: Reliable Narrator | Somewhere “A pity,” said the armor. “You think you are alone, but you walk with many friends: pain, shadow, neglect, anxiety. You have a hunger in you for greatness, but you feel ashamed to have never achieved it. Yes,” the armor paused in speaking, the masked face growing closer to the red ring Korruhn stared back through. Where the eyes should be was nothing but shifting mist. It continued to speak; “Yes, you are not alone. You are wormfood already.” OOC: @Crimson Jester

IC: Reliable Narrator | Fau Swamp Wairuha bent down and pulled on the hilt of the broken blade, the fetid waters sloshing around its thighs. The swamp held firm, but with the great strength of the Kaita spirit Sidra and her ACR pulled it free. Branches and roots fell from the broken blade as Wairuha beheld it in the rising light of early afternoon. The light glittered off parts of the metal, but other parts were corroded and pitted from age, neglect, and the waters of the swamp. The hilt was sturdy, big enough to be held comfortably with one hand. The blade itself was once longer, but the tip had snapped off during some ancient conflict. The sword served well as a one handed weapon. The guard was large and bulky. There was a soft green gleam to the weapon, as if flakes of glittering crystal were placed with elemental forging into the edge itself. Wairuha knew it well. It was not Wairuha’s blade, nor the blade of any Kaita ACR. It was a blade for those who worked in the shadows, those who would rend spirit and flesh apart in flayed agony. They brought darkness where they walked, and this blade was a symbol of their mastery over the souls of others. Broken, but still functional, Wairuha considered whether such a weapon should still exist. OOC: congratulations! @Gecko Greavesy you’ve identified a new kaita weapon. Darkbringer Blade: this blade possesses the ability to manipulate and control the element of shadow at the level of the wielder. The wielder must consciously focus on this one power above all others while using it. As an ancillary effect, this weapon heals the wielder by draining a portion of elemental light when it wounds someone. This ancillary effect does not require conscious focus. You can add it to the Kini-Nui Suva if you so choose.

Hello Everyone, Thanks to everyone who's put time into filling out the survey for SKA Mid-Game. We have 12 responses. However, with 19-20 players still active in SKA this means we have barely over 50% of the player base reporting their experience. If you have not filled out the SKA MID-GAME survey, please do so this weekend. Your voice is important to us and we greatly appreciate and consider all the feedback we receive. Thank you, UN

When I was young I loved MOCing. The joy of a pile of bricks and axels and the time to figure out what could be made out of them was wonderful. As I've gotten older I find time is more limited, and that has led me to enjoy building sets a little bit more. This is was a cool question to think about, thanks!

IC: Reliable Narrator | Mi-Kiri Sorilax’s rahkshi rose silent and invisible from the surrounding water and began to carefully observe the space around it. Through the rahkshi’s eyes Sorilax took clinical stock of everything he could perceive. At one time this had been a great city. Towers, channels, bridges, floating homes, water purification plants, gorgeous hanging gardens, and more filled the immediate vicinity. Once they were beautiful and vibrant with life. Now the buildings were half-crushed as if a great collision occurred. Detritus littered waterways. Plants grew absolutely everywhere. They positively flourished. Thick green vines pulsed with life, and colorful flowers bloomed in the sunlight. Sorilax could hear the buzzing of multitudinous insects. It became apparent there were two major points of interest: the big floating fortress parked just outside where he’d seen creatures on the boarding ramp, or the great ruined tower covered in gnarled roots and vines in the center of this place peeking out above the tops of other buildings. Needless to say both would be a journey, with or without his current abilities. ooc: @Kal the Guardian IC: Reliable Narrator | Somewhere “A Chronicler then,” said the armor. As Korruhn adjusted Grime’s corpse the armor commented; “you sit with the dead, but you do not know their stories?” ooc: @Crimson Jester

IC: Reliable Narrator | Somewhere “What would you do with this knowledge,” asked the armor staring back. “Would you raze the world until only ash remains? Would you truly save anyone?” ooc: @Crimson Jester OOC: as always, tw for medical horror and other possible traumas IC: Ehlek | Mi-Kiri He tapped his fingers across a few keys and then paused. He let the message sit for a minute, leaning back as if giving a digital message a chance to rest before sending could somehow improve its impact. He sent the message. To Aurax, Your compliance is requested. Please provide more lab matoran. Current supply less than ideal. More experiments necessary. Varied elements preferred. Will be forced to resort to terrestrial harvesting If sufficient quantity is not provided. Thank you for your compliance. Successful completion of this request will result in my acceptance of your status as a Barraki, with all its responsibilities and privileges. For the League. He popped his knuckles, rolled the chair back from his desk, and checked the projections for his current experiment against the live data and control group that were plastered across two monitors. It would take longer than projected. The burn down tracker was showing that vahki were decreasing their efficiency the more consciousness they were provided. They were beginning to bicker, to quarrel over who was more the original. Of course, they were all fake, and he was getting tired of needing to keep rebooting them due to silly emotions. It was at the point where he would need to decide if efficiency or personhood mattered most. Naturally efficiency was the correct answer. They were just robots to begin with, and it wasn’t like a matoran could feel real pain. No, they showed similar signs of pain, the same way a rahi might, but the studies were inconclusive on whether or not matoran could actually feel much of anything. They were primitive, metamorphic, war mongering rahi that made skakdi look civilized. It was strange how they rose to prominence in the old world. At least now the natural order was reshaping itself. Matoran were social rahi, and they were clumping up in little villages across the island. It made it easier for Ehlek. He could just harvest the closest one when supplies got low, but Aurax was an untapped resource the Barraki was loath to continue ignoring. Aurax showed a certain understanding of technology that seemed almost intelligent. Ehlek looked at the stasis container by his desk and gave the lid a loving little tap. A dark shape jostled inside the fluid of the container. Ehlek smiled. “Soon buddy. Soon.” OOC: @~Xemnas~, ring ring barraki phone

IC: Reliable Narrator | Kumu Peninsula Whisper’s words echoed in the mists surrounding her and Viltia. She felt the stone absorb her intention, guzzling the powers of the profane rite up with insatiable hunger. It flashed with the energy of the rite, and then with a sharp crack split in half. The two sides fell apart in a disgusting V shape. In the broken gap a shimmering film of darkness blossomed. A silence descended upon them both. For a while, nothing happened, and neither dared to move, too scared by prior experiences to throw themselves without reservation into the unknown. Then there was a sound again: a bone-chilling, blood curdling shriek. The impression of a taloned hand pushed against the strange film of the portal. It seemed like a strange creature pushing against the taught surface of its yolk. With a sickening slurping sound the portal ripped open and the hand pressed cleanly through, along with the rest of the foul creature’s body: a rahkshi! The faceplate of the foul creature opened to reveal its piloting kraata, which let out a territorial squeal of rage, and then the piloting kraata retreated into its armor and the rahkshi began to advance… OOC: please note this is a deadly encounter, and the lives of your characters are now in immediate danger. @Gecko Greavesy, @Kal the Guardian IC: Reliable Narrator | Somewhere Korruhn listened long and listened hard. It didn’t make sense. Eventually, he realized it wasn’t a test or a puzzle as so many places dotting this island were wont to be. Instead, the sounds just existed. They were there, but only just, and that barely perceptible background noise acted as a sort of buffer from the worries, stress, and busy thoughts that normally filled the toa’s mind. He was surprised to find after spending time gazing into the red circle that someone was staring back at him, or more precisely something. A suit of damaged armor, complete with a helm in the shape of a kanohi kraahkan, so dark in color as to seem a part of the shadows themselves, rested on its knees besides the red circle in mirror to Korruhn’s own posture. Its hands dipped halfway into where the ground would be, as if attempting to scoop something up with its palms, but they did not pass through to Korruhn. It was pitted and rusted armor, useless and discarded, but despite its decrepit construction it lingered in its reflective limbo. Stranger still, it spoke with a voice of iron and smoke that made the circle ripple with each passing phrase; “You are not what I expected. Welcome to my domain, broken star. You walk with Death upon you. You have killed one of my sons. A minor setback, but one that wears thin on my hospitality. Why are you here?” OOC: @Crimson Jester

@Tarn, @Onaku, @Snelly your kaita Whakamahu is approved

IC: Takadox | Spiriah’s Labyrinth In the filthy darkness of the underground Takadox’s eyes flickered open as he woke from his dream. He’d been a king again, surrounded by loyal followers, lovers, and a retinue of well trained warriors. He’d needed nothing, wanted for nothing, and was at peace. “Third time in a week, Pridak would be leaking himself.” Takadox groaned as he leaned up halfway to try and get his bearings. A month underground left him aware of his precious place in the food chain. There were no misunderstandings down in the darkness: Takadox was prey. He wanted to go to the surface, but without a guide or a map he found himself hopelessly lost and wandering underneath the surface of the earth until he escaped, died, or became a follower of the elder aspect known as Spiriah. It wasn’t pride that kept him from bending the knee to the voice in the shadows. It wasn’t fear either. It was a stubborn refusal to give up his own status as a Barraki. Just because he left the league of six didn't mean he wasn't still a lord himself. He was Barraki Takadox, peace keeper of the Eastern Realms, arm of the Shadowed One, and apparently a god killer to boot. Yes, he claimed responsibility for the death of a god, and he loved it. There was no way he would bow to Spiriah. Absolutely none. It just sucked how nice the dark voices were being. They’d spared his life without so much as a request for payment. Confusing, irritating, possibly something that would bite him in the rear later on, but Takadox admitted he could use a freebie now and then. He rubbed his other arm casually, then remembered he didn’t have one. It still hurt, and it felt weird to feel it after all this time. The plugs running down his spine felt raw and sore too. he found his back stiff and less flexible after the implants were hastily attached. He’d pulled them from a Mesi and had the work done by some strange underground traveler named… Takadox couldn’t remember. Weird. He normally remembered names pretty well. Takadox gave up and said with a sigh; “Oh well, they’re dead now.” He couldn't remember if that was his fault. Weird again. Standing up he shook a few millipedes out of his gear, checked his long knives, and began trudging through the underground, renewed with a sense of purpose. The air smelled foul as ever, but he was determined to find the way up and out. “I have a good feeling about today,” he said while crawling through a particularly muddy tunnel. “Maybe I’ll get what I’m wanting after all. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” The ground gave way, the dirt poured down, and Takadox fell through spitting the foulest of curses...

IC: Reliable Narrator | Mi-Kiri The rahkshi bound to Sorilax’s arrived at its teleported destination, overshot due to poor visibility, slipped across some mucky green stuff Sorilax briefly recognized as moss and mold, and then splashed into a nearby pool of water filling an apartment complex’s breezeway. The water was deep, and the rahkshi began to sink. A fish bobbed by. Bubbles floated from its silver and green gills. Not curious to stick around with the arrival of the newcomer, it swam away. Sorilax quickly determined many things. The water kept going down for several stories, undoubtedly filling the buildings below. The remains of matoran, toa, and other beings that looked similar to the refugees that arrived in the fau Swamp a few months ago littered the walkways, their bodies bobbing against ceilings or caught on bent pipes. He could probably swim through the buildings, but how long could a kraata hold its breath? He could always teleport back out to safe dry land, but that could alert whatever sort of creature he’d seen by the boarding ramp. He knew for now that he was safe to explore the sunken civilization floating in the sky, but he also knew that safety would not last forever... OOC: @Kal the Guardian, choices choices...

Hello! It's time for the SKA Mid-Game Survey! You can take the survey here. You can also click on this nifty link here: https://forms.gle/KnAW7cEM1VhErDW38 Thanks for taking this survey! Your response means so much, and really helps GMs get a better picture of how to run Six Kingdoms RPGs. For those who are looking forward to the breakdown of SKR surveys, thanks for your continued patience. They're coming soon! Attached is a little teaser graph pulled from the data of all SKR surveys... EDIT: We've received 10 survey responses so far! Thank you so much! This is about 50% of the currently active play community. If you know someone who hasn't filled out the survey yet, please share and help us get an even better picture of how things are going!

IC: Reliable Narrator | Somewhere? Korruhn stepped into the ring of red in the center of the darkness. Nothing happened, except he could swear he heard the soft sound of the waves of Ga-Metru and the nearly indiscernible shaking and playing of instruments like drums and beaded gourds. @Crimson Jester

IC: Reliable Narrator | Mi-Kiri Sorilax’s consciousness piloted the first of his rahkshi with ease. One and Three were his own, and he understood them intimately. He found himself sliding across the glass of the great dome, the rahkshi’s taloned feet unable to find a secure foothold. The uncounted centuries of abandonment left the glass murky and stained with mineral residue and salts. To his surprise, and perhaps joy, Sorilax noted several small clumps of invasive vine species eeking out a desperate existence along the outside of the dome. It explained the mystery of a particularly vexing little problem of past centuries -- he’d documented that very species and its extensive invasion into the Fau Swamp without ever finding a likely source. He'd given up, assumed it to be some sort of mutation from the swamp's water. Perhaps he'd be able to solve that little mystery after all! It was impossible to make out anything clearly through the glass, but Sorilax was not some mote of antidermis freshly puffed from his peers in the Caldera: he was already halfway to accomplishing his Grand Wish. Sorilax could just barely make out the blurriest of a view through the blinding sunlight glimmering off the glass. Inside was some sort of waterlogged city, with waterfalls pouring from the open windows of towering buildings. He could hear the shouting of someone in the distance, and realized with surprise that a large mushroom-like floating fortress was docked alongside a great hole in the dome. A well secured boarding ramp connected the floating fortress to the great sphere Sorilax’s rahkshi was sliding across. Two beings of similar make and model to the machine named Nu-2080S were gesturing to each other. Both wore red armor and one also wore a kanohi rau dangling from their neck on a chain. The other was not wearing a mask on a chain, and seemed very much aware of that fact. The maskless one was jabbing their hands downwards off the boarding plank -- as if trying to point to something that might have fallen. OOC: @Kal the Guardian

IC: Reliable Narrator | Kumu Peninsula "Everyone wants to be a Great Spirit, Whisper. Everyone wants to ascend to being a Mata-Nui" said the lizard. "Builders never will. that's why they suffer. Builders made you. That's why you suffer. You are a figment of a dream shared by many. You exist because you are wanted yes, but you also exist because you were unwanted. You crawled through from the discarded imaginations of a dying culture who dreamt you into being. You return yourself to them when they ask. You'll become a Great Spirit as they never could. But you'll lose yourself in the end. That is what is means to be an aspect, Whisper: you will never be solely your own. You will be like a book torn into pieces, and all your followers will hold but a single page. They will love you, and hate you, and praise you as they seek to reassemble what little meaning they can. You'll be driven absolutely mad. In the end, you'll return to the Caldera and throw yourself into the Far Shore where you were born just so you can be rebound as a new book to be torn all over again. "This is your fate, and you will never escape so long as They will the cycles continue." Then the lizard was gone. OOC: @Gecko Greavesy, I do believe Whisper has finished one of her milestones?

IC: Reliable Narrator | Kumu Peninsula "Understanding and remembering are not so different," said the lizard. "Tell me what you understand." OOC: @Gecko Greavesy

IC: Reliable Narrator | Kumu Peninsula At first, it seemed like nothing: an old relic with graffiti in a place lost to time in a world falling apart. It felt like nothing. No taboo knowledge jumped from her blocked past into her conscious mind, and no strange symbol flared and came to life. It truly was writing, no spells, no sorceries. So why were the plain words carved into the stone so foreboding? Slowly, however, things began to fall into place. Her past, the experiences she’d had with Taja and Caedast, her briefest meetings with other aspects -- Whisper began to realize they were all connected, just like the voices in the miasma. Aspects of Makuta came from somewhere, somewhere darker and more dangerous than she’d ever imagined, and they would inevitably be drawn back. That was simple enough -- of course she’d return to the Caldera should she fail in her Grand Wish. She was a figment of imagination. Alone, she was nothing. One of the lines held her attention: Three broken yolks. What could it mean? She thought of the rite of Desecration, and of how she pulled Taja's light still beating from her chest. It had cracked and become tainted with a part of Whisper, binding Taja to her will forever. In another way, it completed Taja. The Builders and their temples, the gongs like the one above the Elemental Ruin of Stone, the Admin’s request for a Codex of Absolution… things were connected, just not in the order she originally thought. She was more Builder than she wanted to admit, but more immortal than she could have dreamed. She realized then that the bonds she forged with Taja were not two entities being bound, but rather one being returning to some original state of connection: she and Taja were perhaps more alike than Whisper considered. Aspects came from Builders, and to Builders they returned. But what of Irnakk’s Prized? What of the black smoke from the volcano that belched monsters? Surely there was more to this… Caedast mentioned a cycle. But what if the cycle she thought was happening was something else entirely? What if… A small lizard flittered into her vision. It was sitting on the top of the pedestal. She didn’t understand how it got there. It was tiny, with a little pink ridge down its spine and otherwise black scales. It’s little tongue flickered out and licked its pupils. “You are remembering?” asked the lizard with Whisper's voice on its little rahi lips.

IC: Reliable Narrator | Kumu Peninsula, The Caldera Whisper floated silently over the green lake of miasma filling the bowl of the Caldera. She saw the vestiges of her kin below her, and she did her best to ignore their pleas. Some were ancient and long dead. Others were new, barely individuating from the green mists of their collective peers. She felt their thoughts and voices as thoughts and voices of her own, as if they were just the memories and emotions and thoughts of her day to day existence, but now given a violent sense of self interest and a desire to be fully in control. They were hungry. They were unbound. They were tired. They were tired of waiting. They were too free. They were jealous. They were upset. They were anxious. They were at peace. They were chosen. They were not chosen. They were guilty. They were innocent. They were ashamed… She focused her mind, and continued forwards, until she reached the little island of rock in the center where the single pillar stood alone like a lonely mourner amidst a sea of the dead. The voices drifted away, falling from her easily as soon as she left the temptation of the miasma. The pillar before her was a simple hexagonal structure. At one point she imagined it probably stretched much further into the air, but at some point the top had been knocked off and now just the bottom half remained at a modest height. A poem had been carved into the exposed face of the pillar: One silver thread Two bodies dead Three broken yolks Four severed heads Five promised lies Six scattered stones Seven stars torn One world born OOC: @Gecko Greavesy

IC: Reliable Narrator | Kini-Nui Malhukuraia's fingers twitched. OOC @~Xemnas~

Alright now that I'm back from vacation let's see what's up in the PM inbox and... Oh hold up I forgot to say I was on vacation I was on vacation. I'm back, let's play.

IC: Nuju | Kini-Nui "I see you are as much a scholar as a warrior. When you return, perhaps we should compare research. But now the time for conversation is over," Nuju said. The rift seemed to beckon. Strangely, it reminded Caedast of somewhere else, but he couldn't quite place it. OOC: @EmperorWhenua

IC: Nuju | Kini-Nui "To be as it once was, and as it should be," Nuju said with a nod toward the rift. "And all worlds, no matter how small, deserve saving. Don't you think so, Toa Stannis?" OOC: @EmperorWhenua

IC: Nuju | Kini Nui Nuju smiled. It was a rare and genuine smile. "Your insight may be just what is needed. When the warriors fight, scholars must consider why." OOC: @EmperorWhenua

IC: Nuju | Kini-Nui "Sounds like rain," Nuju commented as Vulimai ran off. He waited for a bit as Stannis stood there in similar silence. They both understood the power of words, and chose them carefully. At last Nuju answered; "perhaps you'll be back before the rain stops. Maybe you'll find what I'm looking for: a makoki stone that will reveal the path to Tren Krom. It wasn't always a cycle, you know." OOC: @EmperorWhenua

IC: Nuju | Kini-Nui "Oh, hello. You must be Vulimai. I'm Nuju, it's a pleasure to meet you. I hear you're the leader of the village beyond the temple. Say, have I seen you somewhere before? You look familiar." Nuju screwed up his eyes in concentration. Then he gave up with a shrug and a noncommittal whistle of failure. "You asked about a Krom Sphere. I'm--" Caedast interrupted. "Oh hello, you're a sight for old eyes. I thought your last mission took you to the Southern Continent? And now you're here, impressive." Nuju paused, sitting down on the steps of the rift and crossing his legs in casual comfort. "How do you know Korruhn? It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Stannis. Care for a little adventure to save reality and time itself?" OOC: @Sparticus147, @EmperorWhenua