Unreliable Narrator

IC: Rahi in the tunnel | Underground Providence's shadows cut through the silver and yellow armor of the predatory rahi hunting alongside their tunnel. He shouted and worked his fury out on the beast, but it seemed to have little effect in actually dealing significant damage. Havok's ice punched small holes into the creature's armor as well. With all the attacks of those in the tunnel, and the sounds of their raised voices, the rahi began to retreat. While hungry, it did not want a fight, and its tongue was already wounded. OOC: rahi beginning to go away. Last chance if you want it. @Kal the Guardian, @Burnmad, @Sparticus147, @Nato the Traveler

I believe these were some sort of glands or ducts, if I remember correctly, which would absorb the energy from things to provide energy to the consumer.

My personal opinion is no, unless you are a collector. Your $200 is better placed elsewhere. An option to consider is what purchasing the individual pieces for the set might run you -- it could end up being cheaper depending on the parts.

Irnakk is indeed a god, of perhaps similar magnitude to Mata Nui. You will be seeing more with Irnakk in Apoc. I believe that you got page 143 so you do get another question. @Crimson JesterJesterJesterJesterJJesJesterJesterJ got page 142

IC: The Rambling Guard | Metru Koro "Oh you know, you just look for where the bombs dropped the hardest and that'll be Sans's hut, although that seems a little sad when you think of it him being the leader of the village before all this madness, and the league somehow knew where his hut would be it seems, but if you see Sans's hut and you look a little further you'll find the tank from the war, a terrible war and one I rightly wish we'd put to rest, but no one listens to the guard who mans his post, only to the hero who ignores his order does destiny listen, and if you consider that you are being watched Knichou toa of iron who is both held in the regarding Artahka and reveled in the spirit of Karzahni for the sins of your ghosts will be repaid in the blood of your people as time has regained its course of failure in the termination of its own unraveling and if you consider the fact that it would be passing Sans's hut on the left to see the tank, you'll find the tank in a field of kind flowers full of pleasant smells, I did hear once it was best to stop for the smells and give a little sniff, good for your health I did hear, and you'll see the bombed out wreckage of the guard headquarters just about there about beyond the tank and flowers by a few paces, more or less... oh would you look at the time, but you do keep me talking a fine bit now don't you toa-hero. I'll be off then, it's time for the change of the watch." The guard hopped off the stool, walked two paces down the street, then vanished in a puff of ash. @BULiK

IC: Grime | Fort Nektann “Drukarus,” Grime said in supplication, then found himself unable to continue. His warlord arrived. Drukarus’s maul planted into the ground. Grime knew what came next. He’d already seen it in the Ash Barrens -- waves of gravity would rush from Drukarus, pinning Korruhn to the floor and making his resistance impossible. Aspect or not, Korruhn would die if Drukarus could act. And he saw how Drukarus positioned himself, forming a connection with Barius. Two skakdi in contact was even worse. So Grime made the first move. He felt the squirming inside him, the telltale tightness in his chest as it slithered and coiled. It always hurt, and his breath became ragged whenever it was awake. From down on his knees, Grime stretched a shaking hand towards her. She did not want to come, for she was still fascinated by the possibility of Drukarus’s strength. He could care for many of her children, and she was patient. Grime pleaded. He reminded her of what she really wanted. Drukarus felt something vanish from his pocket. The small fortune telling toy remained, but a great darkness slipped away. Grime stood up, his face changed. Three eyes stretched across his mask, twisting and looking about. “I will be leaving now,” Grime said in a soft voice. It was not his voice, it was hers. “Thank you for your hospitality. You have given me many great things in your ignorance. You have given me a great gift, Barius of Irnakk. May our child live as we made him from Nektann’s clay. May he birth a new world, one made from the blood of the old. And you have given me this poisoned yolk of void and malice. I thank you.” Korruhn felt a creeping chill run down his spine, and he watched his feet begin to turn out as if to walk into the desert beyond the garage. It was his own shadow that moved him, forcing him to react like a puppet dancing on its strings. Try as he might to resist, his skill with shadow was outclassed, each consideration he made in fighting back perfectly outplayed, and he had no choice but to obey. He could only follow until released. Grime stood, and he turned, and he left into the night. OOC: @Burnmad, @Sparticus147, @Conway, @Nato the Traveler, @Crimson Jester, @EmperorWhenua, scene end, Grime and Miserix leave. See you in SK:A! IC: The nearest guard | Metru-Koro "Well look at the generosity of toa, and did I ever just receive some new word on our captain's position. As I heard it, and now I heard it from good ol' Podu, who's a right fellow that goes by the name of Papa, although why he goes by Papa I don't entirely understand since Podu is an acceptable name and Papa is just syllables but that's neither here nor there, and as you know syllables do form the very words we speak and give meaning so in summary I suppose Podu is as right a name as Papa, though if we do give meaning to the value of the sounds which we create it would make sense that the Captain be making words, though what words she's making I'm not entirely sure as her words seemed as tripped up as her gait, and speaking of her gait have you seen a woman who might be too far down the bottle to tell the upside of the glass, and did I tell you of the last time I saw my friend the glass blower, oh he made the bottles, the bottles so green and made of glass, and green light the look on Vulimai's mask as she stumbled about towards the guard headquarters, although why we need a headquarters in this moment is beyond me, when you catch up with her you can ask about the glass and why it is that Podu needed glass windows in his shop that sold nothing but flat bread foods made ...." @BULiK

IC: The Nearest Patrol man | Metru-Koro "I think she was at the Taku, last I heard," said the matoran sitting on an upturned bucket. "No, wait, hold on let me check." He opened a wallet, saw it was empty, and looked at Knichou expectantly. ooc: @BULiK

It's time to take the post-game survey! Thank you for playing SKR! Please fill out the survey so we know what you liked, didn't like, and can get your thoughts on whether or not the surveys are too long. HERE IT IS

Congratulations everyone, an ending route has been unlocked for SKR! You have elected the Apocalypse ending by pursuing what lay behind the NUVA devices and the bunker doors of Kini-Nui. I'm very excited for what comes in the final installment of the trilogy this January in Six Kingdoms: Apocalypse. Rebirth remains open through the 31st of December. I highly recommend getting your characters through whatever current scene they are in, or work with the players involved OOC to discuss how it might be resolved during a time-skip between games. We'll be kicking up with character creation for Apocalypse on January 1st in the New Year! I will be available, as always, via PMs and to respond to requests for interaction where needed. However, my primary focus will be on getting the content for the next game finalize with Veef and Eyru. Don't forget, there's a post-game survey. That will be up soon, so keep a look out for that! As always, happy gaming, Unreliable Narrator (AKA Kughii) P.S. the lizards say hi

OOC: @~Xemnas~, @Nato the Traveler, you will receive a PM in the next day or two with all the necessary profile information regarding Kaita ACRs. IC: Reliable Narrator | Kini-Nui, Nuva Bunkers Atamai clambered into the front seat of the open cockpit, dragging himself the last few inches by sheer force of will. The climb was exhausting, but the silicone covering of the seat felt cool and supportive. He noticed the seat changed to match his favorite color. He swore it had been a different hue before. Other parts of the open cockpit remained unchanged, but he felt a strange kinship come over him. He found his mind drifting back to the placid lake in his vision during the NUVA awakening. His feet rested on the water, another pair underneath mirroring his own. At the time it had been a dark shadow, and he had not been able to make much of what it could mean. Now, however, Atamai was becoming more aware of just what he’d seen. He ran a hand across the back of his neck, wondering what was next. Without prompting, the cockpit began to close, sliding back into the spine of the ACR between the armored shoulder blades. It sealed with a hiss, and the world was dark for a moment, but it was not a dangerous darkness. Glowing circuitry lit across the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and even Atamai himself. The machine was waking up… Sidra clambered into the cockpit of her own ACR, noticing how the seat felt cool and relaxing, and how it changed to match her favorite color. A pair of small golden dice appeared, hanging from one of the cockpits rails on a silver chain like a flashy Le-Metru dash ornament. The joke of leaving things to chance was not lost on her. The seat felt comfortable, perfectly molded to accommodate her armored form. She felt the tug of something magnetic from within, a form of energetic seatbelt keeping her body safe from slipping around. Then the cockpit closed, sliding into the ACR between the armored shoulder blades. She watched the white-painted protodermis vanish as the darkness of the sealed cockpit took hold. Glowing circuitry lit across the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and even Sidra herself. She realized suddenly the circuitry was similar to the writing not only in the NUVA temples but also to the raised edges of the small metal sphere on her person. Before she had a chance to confirm, however, she felt the jostling of the ACR moving and shifting. The machine was waking up, and her hands instinctively reached outwards to try and balance herself. Instead, she heard the shriek of metal tearing, and suddenly her eyes were the same as the six eyes of the machine. She felt herself tearing free of her bonds, pushing up onto all fours and crawling towards the light at the tunnels entrance. The ground trembled as she moved. She felt herself being lost in the machine’s excitement for freedom, and then she remembered where she was: in a cockpit, in an ACR, looking down at the ground a hundred feet below. The thickly armored hands that brushed the tops of the jungle trees were not hers. They were a machine’s, but with just the lightest thought she could feel her will passed to the hands she saw as her own. It was a strange form of control, almost like she was possessing another being. A sound not unlike the metal tearing and rending of earlier made her turn and look across to a nearby hill, where another open bunker -- no, a tomb -- was open. Steam and dust blew from its opening like the fire and smoke from a kanohi dragon. Another large mech, brown and red in color, crawled out. Its hands scrabbled for purchase, and for a moment Sidra through the other ACR would stumble and fall down the hill to crush the temple in the the center of the valley below. The other ACR found its balance, and rose to stand tall above the trees like she did… Atamai breathed in and out, watching the steam vent from his mouth -- no, the machine’s -- as he calmed himself. After the cockpit closed and the squiggling lights arrived his powers returned in full, and he felt them so suddenly it caused him to burst from out of his tomb before he could realize he was moving. His body was alive, he was alive! He felt the warmth of the setting sun and the cool breeze of the ocean wind over the mountains. Sidra too felt her powers return, although she realized after the fact when she began to feel the curiosity of a small spider in the forest below. She had never felt such power! Even in the brief moment of her time as a NUVA, the awakening had made herself feel as a whole individual, but now she felt as strong as three of her kind. She watched the other machine breathe in and out, golden protodermis stopping its flow from the mouth to be replaced with soft, puffing clouds of steam venting outwards into the sky. As she slowly began to find herself more comfortable existing in the shared space between her own self and the extrasensory experience of piloting the machine, she heard a voice. They were a voice without gender or breed, and they spoke both in her mind and through the mouth of the machine. They said; “I am Wairuha, Great Kaita of Wisdom, bound in my casket and shroud. I am reborn with the setting of an age and the birthing of a new, and my purpose is before me the same as it has always been. My pilot is Sidra NUVA, one blessed in the light of Tren Krom.” A long blade appeared in their hand, forming a claymore as tall as itself. Wairuha planted the blade into the earth of the hillside, one hand resting on the t-shaped crossguard. The blade was etched in intricate carvings of the stars with a great eye among them. The sword had not been there before, but Wairuha summoned it. Sidra felt where the blade originated: the suva kaita down in the center of the temple of Kini-Nui. She felt a great number of weapons there for all kinds of combat. Firearms for tarakava, fire-breathing heavy weapons for laying forests to waste, blast grenades for sand worms, lassos and snares for charging monsters, rocket launchers for flying beasts, and many vicious spears and swords forged of the very elements themselves like the claymore in Wairuha’s grasp. Seagulls flew past the six eyes of Wairuha, squawking as they adjusted course in their flight towards the sea. Wairuha pointed a hand towards the Kaita ACR standing across the hills. The machine’s fingers clasped in a fist of kinship, and the two machines collided their fists in a toa salute. The valley echoed with the boom of their symbolic gesture of friendship. Atamai heard the words, feeling as if they came from his own mouth as they were spoken. “I am Malhukuraia, Great Kaita of Courage, bound in my casket and shroud. My endurance is boundless. My pilot is Atamai Nuva, one blessed in the light of Tren Krom.” A great chakram appeared in Malhukuraia’s hands, a circle with which to carve a new dawn. “I now give myself to my pilot.” “I now give myself to my pilot,” Wairuha echoed. Both Atamai and Sidra felt the presence of their respective kaitas with them, courage and wisdom blanketing the two warriors as their eyes turned to the sky, and they felt completely in control. It was dusk, with the coming of the night fast approaching. The first stars were appearing on the horizon, and the sun’s orange and purple light was descending to the West. They knew then what came next: Apocalypse.

IC: Reliable Narrator | Kini-Nui, Bunker of ? The shackles were welded, and the metal seemed thick enough that only through great force could it be broken. A toa of metal, maybe, could bend the shackles. She saw no keyhole or clasp, but as she looked her eyes kept involuntarily being drawn back to the cockpit high above, and to the face of the ACR that stared back at her unblinking. How long had it been staring, and why did she feel a strange kinship with the machine? @Nato the Traveler

IC: Reliable Narrator | Kini-Nui Each strode into the mist of their own tunnel, taking cautious steps over the grooves in the floor where the doors of death waited. Their footsteps splashed in the golden energized protodermis, and they heard the splashing echo off the back of the tunnel perhaps another fifty yards or more. The sounds of vents releasing steam welcomed them. The air smelled of ozone. Atamai and Sidra -- Sidra brandishing her sword as best she could -- pushed forward into their own respective tunnels, moving into the mist towards the dark shape towering beyond. At last, they got close enough to reveal what hid in the mists. Two massive ACRs rested on their knees, coming into view as the mists dispersed from the tunnels. In their current position they were several toa tall, and Sidra and Atamai both imagined that once standing the ACRs would be as tall as the doors behind them, if not a little more. They were lanky bipeds in mechanical construction, with colorful armor and thick ceramic, glass, and protodermis plating that covered as much of the core structure as possible. The heads, for these ACRs had heads that looked like toa but for the six eyes across their brow, were without masks. Golden protodermis slowly dripped from their open mouths, revealing the source of the stream. Their hands were large, with strong armor around the exterior of the knuckles. Lines of glowing energy traced across the bodies of the ACRs, giving the machines the sense of being very much alive. A breath of hot air washing across them from the ACRs confirmed it: these were living machines. It was not the sound of air releasing from vents they'd earlier. It was the rhythmic breathing of these mechanical titans. But they did not move. Atamai and Sidra noticed the ACRs were shackled to the ground by metal brackets around the ankle joints. The hands were also connected to the floor by the wrist joints. Sidra and Atamai could see open cockpit hatches waiting for them, protruding out of the backs of the ACR like a nullifier core extending from the back of a vahki unit between the shoulder blades. There were seats for three, covered in supple, shock absorbing silicone. OOC: @~Xemnas~, @Nato the Traveler

Yes, you should have more details soon Yes, you should have more details soon

IC: Reliable Narrator | Kini-Nui A soft tapping echoed from a brakas monkey breaking a fruit open against a dead toa’s chest. Atamai’s eyes flickered open, and the colorful rahi squawked and hopped away, its meal forgotten. He wasn’t dead after all, but he sure felt like it. Atamai felt drained in a way he’d never been before, as if he’d been run over by one of the carts the archivists in Onu-Metru used for larger rahi transport. The cloak he’d wrought for himself from the metal fibers of the sands along the lake’s shore in the valley below was gone. He felt the slow trickling of water along the grooves of his armored back. Atamai knew immediately his powers were gone, perhaps forever, drained by the temptation of a giant unknown door. Was it even open? Was he even NUVA? He held up a hand above his head, trying to focus his blurred vision. The color and shape of his armor suggested that yes, at least in image, he was still Atamai Nuva, blessed in the light of Tren Krom. He made a fist, as if to grasp the very sun in the sky, then let his hand fall back to his side. His legs were asleep, as was most of his body, but eventually he found the strength to push through the sensation of pins and needles to roll over onto his stomach and look towards the door that killed him... Sidra coughed, golden liquid spilling from her throat across her chest. Her cough was picked up by mimicking jungle birds, who carried it away with them as they flew south. She rolled to one side, head pounding, feeling more drained and powerless than even her most strenuous training as a Dark Hunter. She didn’t feel the extrasensory perception of her psionics. She didn’t feel anything beyond the wracking pain that made her body twitch in the mud. If she marched without rest or sustenance for a week in a campaign of bullets and blood she still wouldn’t feel as drained. Eventually, she could hear the sound of something moving nearby. It sounded like flowing water. She could feel it half submerging her. Had she fallen in a stream after she died? The idea was ridiculous. She’d done so much to carve a place in the world for herself where she was an equal to others, worked so hard, only to be killed by a sealed door. She took a moment to try and think clearly and yes, she wasn’t crazy, it was the only logical explanation. It was stupid, and she hated it, but she knew life wasn’t fair. Then a thought began to grow in her mind. If she died, how was she alive? She groaned, partly from the exertion of trying to roll over and partly because she knew someday Viltia would want all the details. As she finally rolled over, she looked back towards the door that killed her… Sidra and Atamai were both in streams of golden protodermis. They knew it was pure and energized, and the source of their return from death. It was strange to die twice in a day. They remembered the golden light of their transformation into NUVA, the moment they were reborn. This felt all the more a gift. Before it was an awakening, a boon. Now, it was a second chance. The energized protodermis flowed down the hillsides to the lake where the temple of Kini-Nui floated. Before them, the once sealed doorways were now open. The doors opened upwards and down, until they completely vanished into the floor and ceiling of a massive tunnel. The golden protodermis flowed from within. It flowed with the sounds of a soft trickling over the rocks in the dirt of the hillside. A soft white mist floated out from the tunnels as well, and inside each tunnel Sidra and Atamai both saw the dark silhouette of a large shape. The mist hid the form of whatever was inside, but it rose nearly two thirds the height of the doors. The silhouettes waited, unmoving, and the mist did not clear. OOC: : @~Xemnas~, @Nato the Traveler, your characters are alive and have passed the challenge of the doors! They are unable to use any powers, breed quirks, or other special abilities at this time. In fact, they don’t even feel like they have those powers, breed quirks, or other special abilities. Their gear works, although it is water-logged. What do they do?

IC: Reliable Narrator | Kini-Nui Atamai and Sidra pushed themselves to the limit feeding the doors before them a combination of their abilities, the power flowing through their bodies, and then something took a hold of them and they went beyond their limits. They went from choosing to give their powers to being unable to stop. Atamai felt his very memories beginning to slip away, food for the door before him. Jutori, Kilo-M9, even Vashni they all began to vanish one by one until at last it was only him, the door, and the pain of the world. Sidra too felt her mind begin to muddle, and she did not find herself able to stop it. She was not sure even when it began. Memories swirled and left her like the rushing waters in a sink drain, more food for the door before her. Eventually, they both passed out. Even the air they breathed became food for the doors before them. The doors continued their gluttonous feast, drawing everything from them. Only then, when the doors had drained the two newfound heroes of everything, even their lives, did the doors open. They opened upwards and down, like the jaws of gargantuan beasts… OOC: @Nato the Traveler, @~Xemnas~, your characters have received a GM auto-hit. Do not delete or edit their profiles yet. IC: Nektann, Tahtorak of Loss | Northern Wastes Rose Red Velvet Petal My Rose Rose is Someone else A gift for someone else A gift from someone Gift From Viltia To Gift to… An ear-splitting roar cut the air, its echo knocking snow off mountain peaks a day away. Rain poured, filling the space between dunes until they became streams and rivers. Violently, Nektann pounded his feet against the earth. He knew the answer. He knew it. He knew it! Why did he not remember? Why could he not remember? His body moved through the storm, the downpour cleaning him and protecting him from the sun, but it did not protect him from below. This was contested land, not yet his land. The deserts belonged to someone. Who was she? He knew it. He knew it! “SHAGRAK!” Nektann roared. The name carried on the wind, vibrated through the sands, and filled the world with Nektann’s challenge. The name was heard. The challenge accepted. The sands below began to shift. Shagrak was coming.

The resolution of tinkering

OOC: as a general content warning, there are some body horror, able-ism, and medical trauma related subtexts whenever Ehlek is posted due to both his in-game past and his current goals. IC: Ehlek | Mi-Kiri, the Aqua Sphere He stood in a field of the softest grass and the most colorful flowers he’d ever seen. Channels of water surrounded him. When he looked down into the water, Ehlek saw a whole city beneath the surface. Schools of unidentifiable fish were the only living creatures moving through the submerged buildings. Water plants like bull kelp swayed in a slow and steady rhythm together. “This is beautiful,” Ehlek proclaimed. He wanted to run into the water and swim like he did so long ago. He wanted to feel the water running through gills, pulling the essential bits of life into himself. Breathing air just wasn’t the same, and he would always long for the past. No, that wasn't true. Soon enough his mutagenics department would produce verifiable results worth administering. Once a cure was administered he would travel freely in air or water without the need for a rebreather. The adverse reactions to the mutagenic cure in clinical trials were an unfortunate necessity. It was for the good of all, really. Drowning and asphyxiation were dangerous. The ability to breathe in water and air could only be a benefit for his subjects. At least, he remembered happily, until the physical form could be removed entirely from the equation. No physical form, no physical problems. Takadox would call it anti-aging in one single step. Ehlek snarled at the thought of Takadox and stomped a colorful flower into the dirt. “Your Excellency, are you displeased?” An aged voice asked the Barraki. Two turaga walked beside Ehlek. One shuffled in manacles, the other moved freely. One wore red, the other wore green. Both wore element inhibiting collars, a new modification of Nuparu’s earlier nullifier technology. Ehlek looked forward to seeing a vahki deploy such a restraint in a live operation. “Your Excellency?” Ehlek took in a deep breath of air. Air! He felt his borrowed lungs expand within the metal cavity of his chest. He did not want these lungs. “I am fine,” Ehlek replied after another deep breath. “Who said you could speak?” “No one,” said the red one. “I asked who said you could speak?” No one spoke. “You may speak,” said Ehlek. “Nobody asked,” said the green one, giving the other a smug smile behind Ehlek’s back. “That’s correct,” Ehlek agreed, not bothering to turn around. “Now be quiet unless asked to speak, the only intelligent one here is thinking. You are both at the end of your life cycle, matoran. Consider it a gift from your Barraki that I do not place your many years of memory into a knowledge crystal and kick it off the side of this place to corrode in the sea. You still have a place in my new kingdom.” No one spoke. For a few minutes Ehlek enjoyed the peaceful feeling of the wind on his face and the smell of the ocean far below. While he did not like breathing air, he allowed himself the mundane pleasure of feeling it. He looked back towards the glass dome surrounding the entire floating sphere. An illusion worked across the entire interior of the dome, allowing for a perfect representation of the outside world. He imagined it was some sort of mahiki-powered device, but the actual processing power needed for the constant calculations and refreshing of the displayed illusion would be staggering. He liked the idea of having whatever could do that under his command. His floating fortress with the Le-Metru vahki hive at its core waited just beyond the glass of the dome, and the boarding ramp behind him extended across the gap like a long unfurled tongue. The sound of vahki scuttling on all fours across the boarding ramp broke the silence. There were six of them, and they were all the same: modified nullifier models with greenish grey armor and golden etching. Each vahki was spray-painted with their appropriate designation on the top of their head near a serial number, and the kanohi dangling around their necks were equally marked. They all stopped silently a few yards from Ehlek and waited. “You may speak,” Ehlek said, turning to look over them. The two turaga at his side immediately fell to their hands and knees in supplication. “This unit has completed the dxdiag on the requested system. This unit has also run a preliminary tracert. Permission to proceed with further event log capture and data interpretation requested,” reported the vahki labeled EV-001. Ehlek waved his hand in acquiescence. EV-001 converted itself to bipedal mode and approached. It lowered its head and Ehlek placed one of his mechanical hands over the barcode on EV-001’s head. Everything communicated in perfect, beautiful wavelengths. The vahki’s eyes went dark and its body collapsed. “Take this away,” Ehlek said wearily. “You are dismissed. Run the event logs and notify me if there is anything I can actually use.” The five vahki picked their sixth self up as one, and began the trek back up the boarding ramp. “Oh please, stop groveling, it’s unsightly,” Ehlek said as he turned around and found the two turaga still mask-first in the flowers and grass. They rose again, hands clutching their canes for support. Ehlek considered why they needed canes. It didn’t make sense. They were both in perfect physical health for their metamorphic stage. It was not an ambulatory aid, and fashion was an unnecessary excuse. The canes were tools then, Ehlek realized. “Why do you carry your canes with you when you walk without issue? You may speak,” Ehlek questioned. “You Excellency, it is because we are old and sometimes we need the solid support of a cane,” Lhikan said calmly, although a fire danced in his eyes. “He speaks the truth, for once,” Nidhiki confirmed and nodded. He leaned on his cane for emphasis. “We’re very old, maybe even older than you are, no offense.” Ehlek clucked his tongue and shook his head. “You are both terrible liars. Your canes are tools, and you are waiting for the right moment to use them as a surrogate to circumvent the inhibitors. You want to kill me with your combined powers. I will have none of that. Give me your canes. Your barraki commands it.” Nidhiki and Lhikan looked at each other in shock. They hadn’t planned to assassinate Ehlek together, but both on their own discovered the flaw of the inhibitor collars over the past few days of flying far above the terrible landscape of the island below. Now, before they could act on the information they hid, Ehlek figured out how their individual goals aligned before the two of them realized on their own. “Your Excellency,” Lhikan said slowly, “would you deprive us of our support?” “You will have your support in time. Live. Technical. Support. Now, hand me your canes.” They handed Ehlek their sacred canes, the remaining history of their past as once-brothers. Ehlek accepted them, staring at them both with disgust for matoran sentiment, and then threw them into the waters near the grass where they sunk out of sight to whatever murky bottom existed in the submerged city. “You will crawl if you cannot walk,” Ehlek said calmly. “I crawled once, and your leaders called it being lifted up, an ascension is what Axxon of the Order specifically said. Consider this your own little ascension."

IC: Administrator | Elemental Ruins of Air A long and patient pause occurred after Viltia spoke. The small beetle that continued to distract her fluttered out of the open doorway and back into the plane of existence she considered reality. Its purple wings danced in a ray of light Viltia now knew was false before passing through, and then it was gone. “In polite conversation, you provide an opportunity for someone else to speak between your questions. I pity the soul who needs a notebook just to hold a conversation with you,” The Administrator chided, drawing Viltia’s attention back to the room. “I will overlook your rudeness, as I am an Administrator, not an Arbiter, and in one last kindness answer your many questions as I am able. Without the Builders to teach you, it is understandable you would lack basic manners. Although you also know this heretic, Apex. You are in a troubling social circle, Viltia. Vexing, even.” Changing topics, the Administrator continued; “I can rearrange the rooms as you requested. Please wait a moment. Do not attempt to leave the room you are in until the rearrangement is complete. This may take several minutes. The sounds of rooms turning echoed into the central main chamber where Apex and Viltia stood. They could feel the ground beneath their feet shake, and ripples interlocked and broke against each other in the pool of water with the lotus flowers. Small clods of dirt fell to the floor, and thin roots poking through the ceiling stones danced in the quaking. “My name is Administrator. It is not rude to call me by my function. Some prefer to call me Admin, and if it eases your living conscience you may do the same, but I have no other name to provide. Rearrangement complete, you may proceed at your own risk,” the Administrator said the last sentence in a chipper voice. It continued in its normal tonality; “There is no way to access the hive of Nui Rama from inside the temple. An exterior approach is my only suggestion. Entering their nest will undoubtedly anger them.” The three rooms beyond the entry chamber now formed a long corridor. One wall was from floor to ceiling in the marks of aspects. It intricately detailed a dark taboo rite, the same Apex learned before with Whisper the aspect, Taja the void touched, and Apex’s friend Morangad the druid. One end of the hallway was a wall of stars, their intricate cosmology floating slowly in a remembrance of the very cosmos displayed within the Ark. The other end led to a short series of steps and a hexagonal room full of the dead, and a mysterious device that could hold a kanoka disk. “You bear the mark of Mata Nui,” the Administrator said after letting Viltia and Apex move throughout the halls for a time. "You are the first I have seen to bear it. That is why I was confused. A strange repentant, Mata Nui. The strangest, perhaps. Your bearing his mark would be a terrible apostasy, if not for the codices of Dume.” On the far wall of the hexagonal chamber a single word had been carved into its surface. It read NUVA, in all capital letters. Viltia and Apex could read it clearly from artificial starlight in the ceiling of the chamber, even though dried blood -- very old, very crusted -- covered most of the letters, and the blood sat thick in the grooves of the letters on the wall. The skakdi who died in the chamber all looked to have been slain by someone else, someone who left them all in their destructive wake. “If you perform a favor for me in kind, I can teach you how to merge the powers of kanohi into newer, more powerful forms through the suvas of each region. The powers of the heretics have long been stored within the temples I operate. They are hidden from their own kind here, tucked away by those who recorded them to safeguard against those who would be too weak and tempted to use them inappropriately. However, in the past week I have seen many find these taboo rites, learn them, and take these dark magics into the world where I am powerless. The dark aspect beside you, Apex, is one such being who has drunk from the tainted well of restricted knowledge. I would like to learn more about the enemy. You, Viltia, stand on the border between light and dark. Teach me how to wield taboo rites and I will teach you what you seek. I would extend this offer to you as well, heretic. “Now I have said a great many things to answer your queries. Please consider your next words carefully, for I will no longer provide this amount of data collation. Before all else, I ask: do you accept the terms of my offer? Your compliance is appreciated.” OOC: @Kal the Guardian, @Sparticus147 IC: Reliable Narrator | Ash Barrens Ollem and Mahrika relaxed for a moment at the crest of the hill. The Ash barrens stretched before them, petrified trees covered in falling ash from Irnakk’s Tooth covering the journey ahead. Mahrika knew the legends of the Ash Barrens: the legends of the bells and the wayward laughter leading travelers to their doom. From where they stood, they could see two parallel rivers of lava cutting through the northern edge of the Ash Barrens. A small island of cooled lava rock sat between them, and a small temple -- a single round building made of stone -- waited in that barren place. OOC: @Harvali, @Burnmad, you're welcome to start this puzzle now, or explore something along the way instead and attempt it at the beginning of the next game on the 1st. Your call. IC: Kas | The Great Telescope Kas watched Mahrika and Ollem walk across the overgrown bridge back to the mainland. He noticed how Mahrika always shifted uncomfortably before speaking. If he knew better he’d understand the pain she was going through -- but he didn’t, and he could’t. In the end, Kas didn’t have empathy for either of the two matoran who saved him. He cared only about profits, like he always did, and he’d continue to climb the chaotic ladder that was finance at everyone else’s expense. He intended to reward them in time as an act of charity. What was charity, after all, but a way to make the rich look good in the eyes of the poor? Eventually the two matoran faded from sight, passing under the canopy of the overhanging jungle trees and palms. A few birds flew into the air from the treetops, passing overhead of the Great Telescope and Kas as he sat cross legged on the mossy stones. He played with a few loose pieces of gravel, forming little towers and then knocking them down with a well flicked pebble from a short distance away. It seemed childish, it was childish, but it felt wonderful to watch something built crumble under his hand. Definitely less than an hour later but Kas would insist more in the retelling, he grew hungry and climbed the small cliffside down towards the thin strip of rocky beach surrounding the little island of the Great Telescope. “A crab maybe,” Kas muttered to himself as he searched for a long stick with a pointy end among the water-soaked and barnacle-encrusted rocks. He found a stick, or rather some sort of galvanized protodermis piping. When he pulled it was stuck to something under the rocks. He growled in frustration and pulled again, putting his back into the process. Eventually, he gave up and began throwing the rocks covering the pipe into the sea one by one. The more rocks he threw, the more of something large and metal he saw underneath, until at last he stopped to give a low whistle as the realization hit him: there was a crashed vehicle buried in the rock, and what he thought was a simple piece of pipe was actually part of the twisted external frame. He dug deeper, throwing rocks with all his might. Kas made a game of it, counting them as he went by tens, and imagining them being widgets in the bank. His bank. By Mata Nui what he’d give to have a stock market again. “A bike,” Kas said when he’d at last revealed enough of the vehicle to make out its purpose. It was a sort of hoverbike, covered in seaweed and muddy sand. Two curving kickstands were bent out in a landing pose. There was a bit of a third kickstand leg, but the component itself had washed away over time. The nose of the hoverbike at one point contained three separate storage compartments, but the curved lids were twisted and broken from the impact with the cliff. The front of the bike was still too far buried into the cliffside for Kas to pull it out himself, but the rotting leather seat looked built for a tall toa. “Waste of good parts,” Kas muttered to himself, and brought a hot blue flame to the tip of his index finger and began to cut away some of the metal. He extracted the long pipe he originally wanted, as well as a few decent sized spark plugs and fan belts that seemed salvageable. “Whoever owned you must have been riding compromised,” Kas said to the hoverbike, sitting on its exposed internals to catch his breath. He slapped the hood a couple of times in appreciation. “I’d never crash something as nice as you. Then again, I’d never drive something like you. More of an airship pilot than a street racer. What happened to your pilot, I wonder?” The broken hoverbike offered no answers to Kas’s question. After a short break, in truth only a few minutes but Kas would insist over an hour in the retelling, he stood up, took the salvaged parts and the pipe, and resumed hunting for crabs along the beach. Shadows stretched over Kas and the Great Telescope by the time he found and speared a crab big enough for a good meal. Pulling the pipe out of the crab’s skull, Kas looked up at the origin of the shadow. It made where he stood colder by its presence, but whatever it was didn’t look like a cloud. It didn’t look like Mi-Kiri either. “What in...” Kas’s voice trailed off. He grabbed the dead crab, shoved it in a satchel he recovered on the walk down the beach from the Elemental Ruin of Water with Ollem and Mahrika, and climbed the cliffside back up to the Great Telescope. Salt and sand made the ancient telescope difficult to turn. The grubby lenses needed cleaning, but Kas could see just enough out of them to make a blurry guess as to what he saw. He pointed the telescope in the general direction of the shape overhead, but at first saw nothing. He swung the telescope left, then right, then back and forth in a zigzag until at last the dark shape came into view. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Kas muttered to himself. It was a massive floating fortress in the sky, and it was heading straight towards Mi-Kiri. IC: Takadox | Underground (beneath the Ash Barrens, or wherever Marrow led) He held a little more respect for Marrow. Less respect for the bohrok that conspired against him, but all things in the end evened out in Takadox’s mind. He went silent for a little while longer during their trek underground, allowing himself to just listen and experience. How lucky he was to notice a small little pair of lights in a crack in the wall! They looked small and cute. “Well aren’t you small and cute,” Takadox said as he got close to the thin crack in the wall, trying to get a better view of what might be a baby archive mole. “Hey everyone, look I found something small and adorable. Marrow, you got any idea what this little thing is?” Takadox turned around to look towards the mesi warrior as he asked, a fatal mistake. The tiny shimmering scales, the decoys, rippled out of sight to be replaced by a titanic open maw and dagger-sized teeth bursting through the packed dirt of the tunnel. Takadox shrieked as the rahi swallowed his arm in a flash of silver and single crushing bite. “It’s got my arm! It’s got my arm,” shouted Takadox, panic and shock taking over as he fumbled for a sword. Memories of the mesi ritual he almost fell victim to filled his mind, and his heartlight fluttered with ever-increasing speed. The rahi’s tongue snapped out from the hole in the wall, slamming into Takadox’s chest. He brought a sword down on it, carving halfway through, but the tongue was stuck and he felt himself being pulled away from the group and into the waiting maw of whatever massive rahi hunted parallel to the tunnels they traveled. “Run! GO,” Takadox shouted at the others, and then the jaws snapped shut and he was gone. A moment later, the rahi gave a large, putrid belch. It was still very hungry, and there were many, many tasty metal creatures to eat. It continued its feast. OOC: run or fight, your call @Kal the Guardian, @Nato the Traveler, @Sparticus147, @Burnmad, and I think I'm forgetting one more person?

@Sparticus147,you're making me cry with Vulimai's war diary.

IC: Administrator | Ruins of Ice “You have both been silent for some time. Is he dead?” The Administrator asked Ultann. “I have just seen this performed in another temple. The one with side effects did not die in that exposure. Is exposure potentially fatal? If so, I will provide an update to the Legal department -- oh wait, I am the legal department.” OOC: @The Captain, @EmperorWhenua

Congratulations on a new page! For those on Zakaz? Ten thousand years at least since Irnakk's Prized arrived and Mata Nui led the exodus from the Time Between Time. With protoderms being basically immortal unless wounded, time is a much larger amount than if we were playing mortals. It's also harder to predict and calculate. All of the generally accepted "GSR" matoran history happened up until the 6 kingdoms era, with some strange differences of course given the lack of the Brotherhood of Makuta. I know that's a very large period of time.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays to those who celebrate. While I may have caught a cold for the holidays, I do wish you all a peaceful and cozy end of the year.

Thanks, appreciated!

Very cool!

Interesting! Is this a legitimate real world phenomenon or just some cool space magic technobabble? I don't have an issue with it at this time.