Crimson Jester

IC: Korruhn, Fort Nektann Garage The tension in the room was thick, so thick Korruhn could cut it with his blade if he wanted to. He felt the tension as he took a few, brief, measured steps backwards, ensuring he was well within reach of Grime. He looked to the Matoran, and spoke softly, so the others may not hear. "Don't try anything crazy, not yet. Just trust me." His attention returned to that of the angry crowd gathering at the other end of the room, their rage seething. Korruhn sighed a disappointed sigh. "You know, I came here with the intent of having a conversation with Grime, in peace," Korruhn began, directing his speech toward Barius. "And yet, I had a suspicion in my mind, a doubt that your curiosity wouldn't get the better of you; especially your dear friend Parnassus. Anyways. The petrol? I can't say I'm wrong in that your floors do need a degreasing, but that's aside the point: the petrol is simply an insurance policy." Korruhn's right hand held a small torch he'd found in a toolbox, but he had no need to flash or threaten it at this point. Barius was a reasonable man. And despite Korruhn's boredom with the man's rabid dogs that now stood before Korruhn, he had no need to make another enemy today if he didn't have to. "Look, Barius. There's no need for any sort of bloodshed or collateral damage tonight, as interesting as that could be," Korruhn looked at Parnassus, smiling. He'd be nervous about taking any one of these experienced combatants in a fight right now, but he wouldn't let them know that. He would focus on Barius. He simply needed to strike a deal. "I need a conversation with the bard here, without the rabid hounds breathing over his neck. I'm sure we can reach some sort of agreement." OOC: @Burnmad @Conway @Sparticus147 @Nato the Traveler @Unreliable Narrator @EmperorWhenua

IC: Korruhn, Fort Nektann Hangar As Korruhn tipped the final barrel, near the back of the hangar, Grime, who stood between the Toa and the bay door to the ship, began to speak. He was destitute, disregarded. Forlorn. He wanted nothing more than to go to the Matoran, tell him who he really is, and that he would save him from his fate amongst the bloodthirsty fiends of Fort Nektann. But alas, he couldn't ease the burdens of the Matoran; at least not until they got out. Just then, a bay door was forced up loudly behind them, betraying the form of Barius amongst it. Conveniently, Parnassus and the Mimic had decided to poke their noses in as well. Barius, furious at the sight of the fuel, demanded Korruhn clean up. Turning slowly, Korruhn met eyes with Barius. He was ready to fight them should he have to, but he much preferred getting Grime, getting the ship, and then worrying about Stannis and escaping. He had to improvise. "Last I checked, petrol is a solvent," Korruhn sneered. "And in case you hadn't noticed, this place is a grease fire waiting to happen. You should be thanking me for cleaning up for you."

IC: Korruhn, Fort Nektann Hangar Either this Matoran is an absolute fool, or a genius, Korruhn noted in his head upon entering the hangar with Grime. His name was a rather fitting description for the sight and sounds of the inside of the hangar; every surface seemed to have a rainbow sheen to it, and the smell of grease traveled to the heavens themselves. It gave off the appearance of being organized enough, with the ACRs each having their own rack on the hangar floor, and a central tool crib near the back with what appeared to be a mechanic's toolcart locked inside, waiting for the next day's work performing mechanical surgery on these war-beasts. What little light flooded in through the windows in the late evening shone brilliantly on a series of bright white steel drums, scattered throughout the floor, to and fro. Fuel drums. Korruhn looked back at the Matoran, now walking over the the grub pens, waxing philosoph about the cycle of life and the work of Barius and Boss. The Toa couldn't help but notice the distinct wavering in his voice, the fear. It brought Korruhn great pain, the quandary of Grime. Since arriving on Zakaz, Korruhn had done nothing but watch his once-great people die, his homes burn, and survivors capitulate. And now Grime, here in the desert, in servitude of these animals. Korruhn's heart wept for the Matoran. He would not stand to see another die. He would not stand to see his history erased. "Not much foresight among this clan," Korruhn retorted to Grime. His eyes moved to the ship, sitting on the desert floor aside the hangar. He hadn't flown it himself, but he was hoping watching Stannis on the way up had taught him enough. "Not much hindsight, either. Do these people even realize the value you hold? The things you know?" Korruhn began working his way around the hangar, pushing over fuel drums, popping lids. Fuel gushed out, slicking the floor of the hangar around the drums. He could feel Grime's uneasiness, but he needed him to be calm, if only a moment longer. "Do you know why we keep going through these cycles of power and death, little Matoran? I'm sure you do. You know your history, as do I. These fools ignore it, they spurn it, deny it!" Rage began to boil in Korruhn's chest. He had held his pain too long. His home was gone; his life turned to ash. Nearly everyone he ever knew were now dead and gone, and even their memories began to fade from his mind. His heart cried for his friends, for Sans, for Leklo, for the fallen comrades, dead for nothing, and dishonored by time itself. "But I will not deny it anymore, Grime. You will come with me now." OOC: @Unreliable Narrator

IC: Korruhn, Fort Nektann Korruhn stood before the bard still, his mind assessing the content of Grime's words. He knew of Tren Krom, and knew of the Ruins. How the Matoran had ended up with this band of warmongers was not clear, but Korruhn was beginning to have a suspicion that Grime may have been part of, or had something to do with the ruins. Or perhaps even the rites themselves. All Korruhn knew for sure, was that this was his best opportunity to find out, and he wasn't about to let a social function ruin that. "Of course," Korruhn nodded, in agreement of the hall not being the best setting for such conversation. He looked around at the scene. Most, if not all of the warskaks were sloshing mugs of drink, shoveling food, or yelling over each other. A few others were still feeling the effects of Stannis' botany. Drukarus may take some notice of what Korruhn was about to do, but it was worth the risk. "It's getting awful loud in here. It's not often I get to cross paths with a bard, and I'd love to hear another song while still in your band's company. Would you care to play me another song, perhaps somewhere quieter?" OOC: @Unreliable Narrator

IC: Korruhn, Fort Nektann "Your value is more than these warlords know," Korruhn replied, a strange reverence in his voice. "As they say, 'A generation which ignores history has no past and no future,' right?" The Void Touched-Being smiled earnestly at the thought. His prior life as cartographer had been mostly thankless, aside from the few nods from researchers and foreigners who sought out ruins and adventure. And yet, the information he acquired, the knowledge he held? He valued that at more than anything in the world, and he took pride in being a man who would never miss an opportunity to acquire more. "Tell me, what tales do you know of Tren Krom? Or the temples throughout this island, seemingly constructed by the hands of your people." OOC: @Unreliable Narrator

IC: Korruhn, Fort Nektann Korruhn had sat at the table mostly silent thusfar, choosing instead to casually observe while he sampled the offerings from the kitchen and it's eccentric chef. The food was fine, but by nature, the Void Touched-being wasn't much one for personal exquisitries, preferring to find enjoyment through his research and studies; an itch that he noted hadn't been scratched in quite some time. At some point, Stannis left the table, moving to another part of the room, and engaging in conversation with the odd Matoran, who he'd recognized as some sort of squire of Drukarus', in an earlier encounter. The spoke briefly, before the Matoran began to sing a melodic tale. His voice was wondrous; Korruhn hadn't heard the entrancing melodies of a Bard in what felt like an entire lifetime. But, there was something odd about this one. Not in the way he carried himself, or the way he played a tune. It was the words in his tale. Hello. Goodbye. The being known as Korruhn had had a peculiar feeling when he entered the fortress gates. Peculiar, but familiar. He had felt it at the Ice Ruin. He felt it at Nuju's Observatory. And now, the Bard. Of course. These fools would have surely destroyed any physical Taboo left behind, what with their wanton recklessness and general disregard for anything of the sort. But Bards, they were the preservers of history. As was Korruhn. Perhaps the Bard had more to offer than these war-mongers. Standing up, Korruhn worked his way around the mess of chairs and hulking forms of half-drunken, bloated Warskaks, brushing some aside with his arm as needed. He reached the Bard. "Bard! Pardon me, I couldn't help but hear your tale across the room. I am Korruhn." OOC: @Unreliable Narrator

IC: Korruhn, Fort Nektann The Accursed One, his silhouette broken up in the cloud of shadow venting from him, smirked a playful smirk at the Aspect in front of him. He was beginning to enjoy this; and he could certainly see more clearly through the eyes of the Wanderer. The Aspect before him was not afraid, no, but there was most certainly a feeling of tension, as though Parnassus felt, threatened? Korruhn was not much a conversationalist, as a product of his environment, and thus treated moments like this more like a game of chess, a tug-of-war, than mere small talk, and he relished in the competition. He could sense the unease, the distrust in Parnassus as he stared Korruhn down. The slight, almost unnoticeable shift of a foot, the twitch of a pinky. He did not care much for engaging in staring contests, as it seemed quite superficial and foolish, but he ensured that the Aspect knew that Korruhn meant business, nor would he be swayed by this barbarian before him. Despite that, he could feel a slight unease himself; it sat on his shoulder, though a slight itch, he knew it was there. But he could not waver. What's the worst the Aspect really do to him? Korruhn had already lost everything. He has walked the Shores of death. "You look like you've walked this plane long enough to know the gist of such arrangements," he said. "Of course, I'm going to need something from you, if I'm to show you anything. Such things always come with a price tag!" Korruhn lamented, almost melodramatically. He hung his head briefly, shoulders low, eyes sullen, looking to the ground. The itch grew stronger. But he only needed a few more moments. He raised his head, and his smirk beamed brighter than before; though his eyes, the sickly yellow they seemed to be these days, narrowed. "It's not much, for an esteemed Aspect of the Islets. I only need a living heartlight is all." OOC: @Conway

IC: Korruhn, Fort Nektann The Toa--no, Aspect had paced to and fro since Stannis and Barius had locked themselves away, pretending to pay no mind to his two companions, who made awkward small talk to pass the time; all the while, he was scheming. Since the moment he had spoken smoke and mirrors about the Far Shore to the Aspect, Parnassus, he could feel the hooks of his thought digging into the mind of the servant of Makuta. If there was one thing he had learned in his limited studies and experiences with them, they lusted power, and despised when another had access to power they didn't. Korruhn played on that base drive. And now, he too could feel that drive, as he got more comfortable in the deceptive skin he now wore. Ending his pacing abruptly, Korruhn turned, his eyes meeting with those of Parnassus. He put on a reservedly earnest face, and approached the Aspect. "Ah, my friend," Korruhn said warmly. Perhaps he was enjoying the role too much. "I know in your heart you desire to see the wellspring for yourself, to drink of it's power. And oh, who am I to deny you of such pursuits!" He paused dramatically, and smirked at the Aspect. Long enough to let him think, not enough to let him get in a word. "How would you like to go there?" OOC: @Conway

That Nektann drone is low-key the best thing about that. How does a Toa ever find the time to sweep with all that fighting?

IC: Korruhn, Fort Nektann The air at the oasis fortress was the opposite of what you'd expect of a place so lush: acrid, thick and oily, leaving a fine, greasy sheen on nearly every surface of the fort. Wind entered the oasis from the desert outside with great stride, pushing dust through the small valley, howling high-pitched shrieks as it passed through the gaps in the walls of the haphazardly-constructed buildings, clinging to every greasy surface of the encampment. Two of Korruhn's fingers touched the gate door, and swiped, leaving a mark in the dusty grease. He looked at his fingers, observing the dust with curiosity. He wiped his fingers with his thumb, and returned to the scene before him. They were an odd band of beings that stood before him, and Korruhn made a point to lock eyes with each as he assessed them. Most were Skakdi, but a few were not, and although Korruhn had met Skakdi prior at Metru-Koro, he wasn't sure how he yet felt about them. The first Skakdi was short, but hearty, with a Mata Nui-awful shirt worn over his armor, and a strange pair of light-dampening lenses over his eyes. The second was huge, a stone mountain in of himself, clad in black with strange, purple marks adorning throughout, and he bore a ramshackle collection of armor and furs. The third member of the welcoming party was a more ambiguous species, and although he looked more Toa than Skakdi, his spiked armor and broad shoulders betrayed his allegiance to the Skakdi. The Shadowed one, clad in road-worn red and gold armor, brooded silently on something, surely attempting to place the other Shadow beings before him. And the leader, the speaker: a Skakdi himself, this one was huge in an entirely different way to the second. Each ounce of mass equated to the strength of a horse, and his scarred, grey flesh indicated a life that had seen many battles. He was surely the leader. Korruhn strategically chose not to address any of the welcoming party at first. He did not fear these feral beasts, no matter their size or appearance; nothing could compare to the foul beasts residing on the Far Shore, the land of which Korruhn was now Emmissary. His cape billowed in the wind, although his body stood stark-still in the silence at the gate's entrance, feet planted shoulder-width apart, hands at his sides. Eyes still slowly scanning and observing the meager fortress these fellows had created. He would take his time addressing the crowd. They needed time to formulate their own opinions, let their minds wander. Let the fear of the unknown slowly creep into the back of their minds, and invade their thoughts, until they squirmed. His eyes turned to their leader. "Hm," Korruhn let a brief amount of air out of his mouth as he looked over their leader again. His eyes and head moved as he assessed him, looking him over as though he weren't even there. His half cloak still dangled lazily at a forty-five degree angle, flapping in the wind, and his hood obscured his melted, golden face. Korruhn's eyes, more a sickly pale yellow than the blue they used to be, pierced the darkness within the hood. Suddenly, the eyes turned to Barius' face, as though he was suddenly aware of him staring back, awaiting an answer from the Accursed One. One of his squires approached from his side, and spoke something softly into his ear, out of earshot of Korruhn and Stannis. Korruhn smirked from beneath the darkness of his hood. "Seems I'm here for ship repairs now." His voice was as smooth, sincere and friendly as could be managed with his natural voice. He paced, a couple steps to each side, his posture strong, but not hostile. "It's a wonderful thing I seem to find myself in the company of an affable band of the mechanically-inclined, don't you think?" OOC: @EmperorWhenua @Sparticus147 @Nato the Traveler @Burnmad @Conway and I probably forgot someone

IC: Korruhn, The Ambling Alp The sleeping room was like an enclave to Korruhn, a final, eloquent bastion of the grandiose and carefree life that so clearly flooded the Toa's dreams of his former home. It was simple in design, four walls, a small nightstand carved of fine Po-Metru stone and banded with gleaming bands and a handle of protodermis, upon which sat a small, bronzed lamp with a deep green shade. Next to this was the bed, a beautiful example of Le-Metruvian woodworking mastery, with flowing, aerodynamic edges, and ornate reliefs depicting the power of Air. Although far more elaborate than anything the Cartographer would have been used to, he couldn't help but feel enveloped in a blanket of familiarity in it's presence. Even the air, purified by the ship, was crisp and fresh, just as it was back before the Cataclysm. Before Korruhn's failure. The Ko-Metruvian had borne the burden of failure in a similar manner to which he bore his cloak; it went with him everywhere. He could feel failure brushing against his back, he could sense failure in the darkest corners of his peripheral. Failure shrouded his every move, as though the burden was a great cloak of the heaviest, scratchiest cloth. Every waking moment, he thought of it. Even when he wasn't thinking of failure, it sat in the back of his skull, like a rat desperate to escape, clawing, biting, writhing in the depths of his mind. Korruhn's failure had transcended being a mere moment, and had now become the chisel with which he carved his life. But what had the failure truly been? Had it been that moment, the day he decided he was worthy of more, that for some reason destiny had chosen him to answer Dume's call? Or when he decided to drag the Alpinist, a man well beyond his merit, into his maelstrom quest? Korruhn failed at the Hideaway, when he summoned the curse upon himself. He had failed at the Coliseum, and watched Dume die. He had failed at Ko-Metru, and watched as Pridak decimated his home. He failed at Metru-Koro, when he let his people die, and their refuge burn. And he failed at the beach, and now he was possibly the last one of his people from Metru Nui left that isn't in League chains. Korruhn's fist clenched, a tightening seal on the mouth of his bottle of rage, bubbling and frothing violently inside his chest. He would not fail again. He had no more to lose. With his people dead or lost, he had no more worry of being ostracized by his people for walking the path of shadow. He would avenge them, regardless of what paths he must take, what hands he must shake; what terror he must have to strike into the hearts of his enemies. What blood he would have to drench Zakaz' soil in. There is no wall he wouldn't fell, no line he wouldn't cross. Not an enemy would stand before him, and not succumb to defeat. Mountains will crumble. Cities will fall. Nobody will deny his path, nobody will stand in his way.

IC: Korruhn, The Ambling Alp Though far below, and drenched in rays of the sun, the Shadow Toa immediately knew what Stannis was pointing out. It wasn't much more than an outline of a round tower at this point, but the scars in the earth denoted that this was the spot from whence Korruhn disappeared. An eerie miasma hung over the whole area as though the stench of death itself, and the flesh of the earth was riddled with purple, crystalline flechettes. A trail of scorch marks extended from the remains of the structure to a point where the graying sand met the darkened waters, and found... nothing? Strange. Where had they all gone? Where was the titan? Did the blast kill them all? "Your guess is as good as mine," Korruhn shrugged, his eyes still fixated on the battle site below. "It was myself, Leklo, and Ultan, sent out by Sans of Metru-Koro as a scouting party, back to Metru-Nui. We spotted the ruined fortress in the distance, as we looked for the easiest way into the Godhead. When we arrived, we found the Titan, engaged with a fellow Toa, Atamai. He had the Six Great Disks." Korruhn paused as a vision of that moment, an imprint in time, painted itself vividly in his mental view. The looming fortress in the background, dark and towering, obscuring moonlight. The untouched beach. The Titan, his axe swinging for the Toa. "We had to help. We engaged the Titan, and both he and I fell into the lake in the ensuing fight. When he came back, something was wrong. Horribly wrong." "He cried a great cry, a cry beyond pain and time, and summoned 6 great ravenous beasts. We fought them. These... handprints, gold, started appearing on my arm. I made nothing of it. Atamai activated the combined power of the disks, and that's the last thing I can recall, before the Far Shore." “Those accursed Discs,” Stannis lamented. They were a dramatically powerful weapon by themselves, but combined they were soul-wrenchingly horrifying. And to think Tuyet wants six of those... He’d nodded as Korruhn told his tale to show his attention while all he looked as was the splaying landscape below. “How did Atamai obtain them? Do you know?” he asked. "I haven't the faintest clue, I saw them turned into the Mask at Dume's Office... I can't explain their existence. It is quite peculiar, I must say, as not a day before the battle we found a door within some Ruins on the island, that requires a Great Disk to open." “This Titan you all fought, what was he like?” Stannis pressed. "He was a stoic fellow, exemplary warrior, seemed like the type to be full of candor and grace, although it seems we caught him in a moment of desperation." Korruhn recalled the fear in his mighty voice. "Not very tall, but he was sturdy. Wore armor of a protodermic silver and a crimson red. Carried a great axe, thing looked more cumbersome than useful, but he wielded it as though it were a feather. And his mask. I'd never seen one before, aside from old manuscripts. It was a Great Rode." Stannis instantly knew who the Titan was from that description and held the man in high enough esteem that he looked at Korruhn to give a nod of respect for surviving the battle. "Congratulations," he murmured. "You fought against a true warlord." But that didn't solve the looming question of the discs and their origins. He pondered on that for a moment, striving to remember what he knew before the Ark was crippled and fell apart. All the councillors of Mata Nui's ruling committee had still been alive up until the invasion on Metru Nui and all were active in the assault or defence of the metropolitan island in one way or another—all, that was, save two: Toa Helryx and Brutaka. Helryx had purportedly perished in the defense of Odina in the opening chapters of the war, a fate Stannis had tried to fact check and yet was unable to find anything that proved or disproved the rumor. Axonn, however, was still active in the war. Whereas Brutaka had been in the front lines of the conflict and focused much of his energy at holding the line in the northern continent, Axonn was focused on aggressive tactics to the south. When everything fell to pieces Axonn was still fighting around Xia, which would have placed him in the lifeless shell of the Ark's torso still orbiting the planet they were on like a shambling, misshapen moon. That all automatically struck the notion that this Axonn was the same man Stannis had witnessed on Odina when the Barraki lords have their secessionist speech. From another time, then? he wondered. It had to be so, as there were no other possibilities he could fathom, and all roads eventually led back to Tren-Nui in one way or another. He still hadn't an idea how he had been pulled to a shared timeline, though he wagered a certain water toa was still lurking somewhere and somewhen. "That 'Titan' was Axonn, an equal to Brutaka, to Pridak, and to Zataka, and I can only imagine what he a horror has become after being dipped in the tainted waters below. He is likely lost, confused, and filled with anguish at what has become of this world because the man you spoke with was not from the present." Korruhn was about to speak to the fact that there was no evidence that the being called Axonn was truly dead, but he halted at Stannis' very last statement. "If Axonn isn't from the present, dare I ask when he's from, and how he could possibly be here?" Stannis shrugged, his great cloak shuddering slightly. "I can only suspect, though I'm sure your friend Atamai would have the answers. Axonn was a guardian; he was likely protecting what he understood to be his charge." "That would make sense. But, getting answers may prove difficult, fate was not on the side of any of us at that battlefield." He held out great hope that his friends were alive, and he knew how hardy they were. He was sure they were fine. They had to be. Korruhn needed them to be. And although Korruhn wanted nothing more than to land the ship and search for his friends, he knew that none of this would end unless he could get what he needed to put a stop to all of this chaos. "If this place we're in isn't bound by the laws of time, then what's to stop us from returning? Back before the war, before the League had a chance to strike Metru-Nui?" "An interesting question. And no doubt one wrought from the optimism to go back to the way home was before. Time flows differently here, but that's not to say it isn't bound by the laws of time. All roads lead here, and while I don't think we can retrace those roads to whence we came before, I think there are, shall we say, avenues to go where you want to. Doing so will take time, itself, to learn as to the how, and then to attain the power to do so. Is it possible? Certainly, I believe it to be so, or else I wouldn't have offered to help you attain your wish." "Indeed. All in due time, I suppose." It was a lot to ponder, and even more to simply comprehend; the fabric of time and it's elaborate weave. Far too much for the weary mind. Korruhn excused himself, standing up and walking to the bunk space. He entered the unit and settled in, resting in preparation for what lie ahead.

IC: Korruhn, Ko-Metru Korruhn looked again at the basin of protodermis before him, and back to Stannis. Energized Protodermis was rare, and even moreso now with Metru Nui's infrastructure ruined. If Korruhn had gauged Stannis correctly, he read Stannis' statement as more of a general deterrent, than an actual fear of unknown consequences. He was curious, perhaps Stannis had something else in mind. "If you were to use this to perform the Rite now, what would you do with it?" "Assuming I could even perform the magick?" Stannis speculated, raising his brows in mock pondering as though he had never considered the eventuality before. He stammered a reply, looking more beleaguered like a bumbling college professor who'd been asked to demonstrate some great scholastic feat without his classroom chalkboard or notes. "I haven't the touch of Shadow like you, Korruhn, like you do; there are no assurances I could succeed, and my curiosity is no reason alone to test the theory, either. I wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do with a kraata of my own." It was a long answer. The longer the answer, the less truth to it, at least from what Korruhn was used to. Whatever Stannis was choosing to keep close to his chest was not an immediate threat though, so Korruhn let it go. Plus, he had something else he wanted to bring up. "You know, since we found the Rite in Nuju's office, I couldn't help but think," Korruhn began. "The Beast that afflicted me with this has been an anomaly I cannot place. But, now that we've found this Rite here, perhaps the Beast I encountered was the result of one? And furthermore, perhaps I was not afflicted by shadow, but by the forbidden rites, and bcoming a Toa only further exacerbated it." "Perhaps..." Stannis pondered, also encouraging Korruhn to collect the energized protodermis and offered a stoneware container with which to do so, if Korruhn chose to use it. "You are a peculiar case and present many different facets I haven't seen before. This Far Shore, for an example, and your affinity to Shadow while not truly being affiliated with it yourself. It is possible, yes, that your Beast and its accompanying affliction was shadowspawn. There is only one way to find the truth of the matters, though, and that will be by accumulating more such rituals. The truth behind your powers can only be revealed by finding the limit to them." Korruhn nodded in agreement; he had no more to say on the subject for now. He collected the container from Stannis, and carefully transferred the precious EP into the container, which would hang on his belt for now. He stood up, and returned to Stannis. "We're only a couple towers over from the Cartographer's Tower," Korruhn stated. As much as he'd like to stay in Ko-Metru, restore the city, give the dead the burials they deserved, he knew he wouldn't be able to enjoy it until some semblance of peace had been restored. "Want to hit the garage and pick our ride out of here?" "That would be recommended," Stannis said. He'd already felt the familiar pull of fate's strings towards the aforementioned tower, which within the confines of Ko-Metru's ruined cityscape had seemed looming and unavoidable as the Coliseum was to the city as a whole. All paths of Stannis' went there, a direct contrast to how all paths had previously led to the Archives, and a testament to how important exiting the city had become. He didn't need directions, per se, but he gestured with an open palm. "Lead the way, Cartographer." The two walked the final distance to the Cartographer's Tower in about 10 minutes' time, and were now stood at the base of the massive tower, looming in it's shadow. A large bay door, dark grey in stark contrast to the rest of the tower, stood in front of them. It was inset behind it's frame, which was of a rectangular shape, with forty-five degree corners. A blinking green light in the center of the door indicated that it still had power, although it was from the emergency generators. Korruhn approached a small panel set into the wall on the right side of the door, and input a code. The two angled halves of the door hissed with pneumatic power as the split apart to reveal the bay inside. It was dimly lit, musty, and cluttered, but it was as close to home as Korruhn had felt in a long time. He entered the front of the bay, an empty area saved for final vessel preparations for departure, and looked around the scene. The overhead lamps flickered, but held consistent enough light to make out most of the room. On the left were a handful of desks with vertical boards mounted to them, haphazardly scattered throughout the space and littered with old maps, documents, scrolls, and anything else that reminded one of the dingy backroom of a museum. On the right, a caged area that was home to a tool crib and equipment storage area, tools of all type hung on the fencing and piled on shelves. But none of these things fulfilled their purpose there. They needed transport. Korruhn's eyes turned to the back of the space, and motioned for Stannis' to do the same. Although hard to make out in the flickering lights, the silhouettes from the back bay indicated that the Cartographer's Tower still had it's full fleet. "Tread bikes, a few different light airships; Karz, we might even have that boat we never returned to Ga-Metru back there somewhere..." Keeping his train of thought from trailing to that adventure, Korruhn turned to his compatriot. "Take your pick. I don't think anyone's going to be needing these soon."

IC: Korruhn, Ko-Metru It was strange to become an expert in something in an instant. The words formed in the brain correctly, and left as cohesive sentences, but one couldn't help but notice how foreign they felt leaving one's mouth. "The rest of these Knowledge Towers didn't come from nowhere," Korruhn replied. He knew Stannis would likely want to use it for himself were it the only basin. And although Korruhn couldn't be sure at all that there was more, there had to be, right? "Somewhere in one of these towers they devoted their days to studying the properties and applications of energized protodermis, there's bound to me more there if there aren't more of these abandoned projects." Korruhn couldn't help but desire to divulge his own curiosity; he wanted this opportunity to perform the Rite of Worms for himself, not only for the fact that he had no knowledge of a being other than Makuta ever performing it, but for the power it could grant him. As a Toa gifted with the Rite, he was in the unique position of being able to infect his own mask, and surmised that the loophole would grant him additional power, without the bonds of enslavement that come with infecting the mask of another. "Have you ever heard of a Toa performing the Rite, and then using the Kraata upon their own Kanohi?" OOC: @EmperorWhenua

IC: Korruhn, Ko-Metru Leaving behind the damp, dark confines of Nuju's former Observatory, the two beings exited the structure the same way they had gone in, and once outside the window, scaled back down the structure to street level. They began to walk back toward the Cartographer's Tower, so that they may acquire a vehicle and get back out to Zakaz, Tren-Nui, whatever it may be called. The silence of Ko-Metru was usually a cool, friendly absence of sound that welcomed Korruhn home from his trips across Metru Nui, a peace he dreamed of every night he spent among noisy insects in Le-Metru, or the crashing waves lapping the shores of Ga-Metru. But the League had twisted that, taken even the simplest of creature comforts and perverted them, the silence now serving as a stark reminder that this once-bustling metropolitan that he called home, was now no more than a necropolis. Korruhn's eyes darted as they walked, not so much to feverishly catch as many sights of his home in the brief timespan he was here as he could, but to avoid gazing too long into the eyes of the dead that lay in droves around him; eyes wide open, mouths twisted, limbs, if still around, bent beyond recognition. He knew their spirits were long gone from their mortal shells, but he couldn't help feeling shame as he looked in their sad, dead eyes. Shame for the home he couldn't save, the people he couldn't protect. The destiny he was too late for. He pressed forward, setting a brisk pace in hopes to get out of this graveyard with haste. Though his mind was entirely preoccupied with melancholia and doom, Korruhn couldn't help but notice a glisten on the side of the road. As his eyes fixed on it, and his pace ground to a halt, he began to realize what he was laying eyes on: a construction project. Tower construction, to be exact. Tower construction was almost more alchemy than engineering, an art refined over millennia by the most advanced Ko-Metru Scholars. They had taken the elaborate, laborious, and dangerous process of manual construction entirely out of the formula, discovering a way to create Knowledge Towers in mere minutes, by introducing a Knowledge Crystal into a prepared dish of purified Energized Protodermis, and the resulting reaction formed the tower. Korruhn approached the site, now close enough to see the source of the sheen that drew him in: a prepared basin of purified Energized Protodermis. The Shadow Toa's mind was instantly brought back to the Rite of Worms. "Stannis!" Korruhn turned around, calling out. "Energized Protodermis." OOC: @EmperorWhenua

IC: Korruhn, Nuju's Observatory Korruhn placed his blackened, cursed hand upon the carving, and suddenly felt the rush as centuries of knowledge coursed through his mind. It were as though an invisible hand had drew back an unseen curtain, and the machinations of the backstage were now exposed to the Toa, allowing him to instantly absorb it's most intimate workings. As he pulled his hand away, the rush of information stopped, but Korruhn now felt as though he'd known this information all his life. "The Rite of Worms," Korruhn said aloud, although speaking to nobody in particular. He turned to Stannis. "Were it not a time of war, I would call such power blasphemy. I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't be caught off guard by a Toa wielding a Kraata." “Indeed?” Stannis asked. “And why would you say that is?” "Our kind have a strange affinity for the light," Korruhn replied, matter-of-factly. "We seem to bear the burden of the misconception that light is the answer to all, and the vanquisher of evil. When faced with adversity, Matoran will always walk the path of light, even to their detriment. I don't understand it. We have the tools; the means to ensure our survival for generations to come. And yet, we choose to suffer for light." Stannis paused a moment, wondering what pieces of truth he would share with Korruhn and what he would maintain close. Utmost secrecy was never truly prudent, he found, and leaking of knowledge was essential to maintain sufficient enough ruse to throw the scents of betrayal off. In many cases, if someone knew half of the story they'd draw their own conclusions on what the ending would be like, enveloping their minds with deceptions of their own creations and ending up far off course from the reality which was oftentimes too terrible to really fathom, all while leaving the famed historian warrior behind in their quest for truth. The Makers, Stannis knew, for all their vast knowledge and courage were invariably stupid; why else would they have fallen as they did? "Mmm, but I do. People oftentimes confound revelation with vanquishment. Truly, light vanquishes nothing in a material sense—it is not a destroyer, it is a manifester showing what was once hidden in darkness. It should come as no surprise that people are more comfortable in the daytime than in the night, confident in their security as they can visualize their surroundings clearly. Less so at night, when everything is enveloped in shadows, and even the trees they embrace in daytime can take sinister forms that urge us to feel anxiety. People cling to comfort and relate it to good... but that does not conversely make darkness evil." Korruhn had thoughts of his people, his home. Nostalgia. Sunlight glistening off of the surface sheen of knowledge towers. The security of a private space, with a locking door; all kept in order by the Vahki. Not a care in the world save for where the next adventure was, or the next great meal. Korruhn's people were robbed of that peace, that comfortability. Some of the younger ones may not even recall a time as such at all. Oh, what longing Korruhn had to give that gift, that right, back to his people. He would sacrifice all for that. For his people. "This is why people lie you and I exist, Stannis," Korruhn said. "Not to be vanguards of light, of darkness. We are here because we are the few that are willing to walk any path, should it see is through." Korruhn paused a moment, letting his statement soak in briefly. "I must know, though. What path is it you intend to show me, Stannis?" "Whichever one you choose to follow," Stannis replied simply. He shrugged emphatically and slinked to another side of the room, resuming his halfhearted ambling hunt for vestiges of the late seer's research. "Some called me a prophet because I dedicated myself to learning the paths of life and understanding where they take us. But I cannot tell people what they shall do, only offer knowledge for them to make educated choices of their own, even when they decide to walk chiaroscuro streets." He paused again, freezing a moment as he deliberated what to say, and then added: "But should you choose to follow me, I promise you will not be the same you were before or are now. This land the Skakdi who live here call 'Zakaz' is not at all what it seems, and indeed nothing is as you think it to be. The laylines of fate cross here, and you can truly become whatever you cannot fathom. I will be delving into this land's heart. That much I can promise." "Many of our brightest minds spent their entire lives studying the stars, prophecies, destiny. Rarely did any leave the Metru, and I can recall none of their names," Korruhn pondered a moment; he really couldn't remember any of those scholar's names, save for Ihu. "I'd be lying if the current state of affairs hand't wavered my opinion on prophecy and destiny. I'm sure I won't be welcome back into my community with open arms after the things I've done and seen. They'll say I have no honor. But I will ensure they can say that from the comfort of their own homes." The Toa looked around the room again, filled to the brim with Nuju's voluminous information. The greatest mind, a hero of Ko-Metru. A taboo rite in his office. Perhaps our heroes were not as black and white as the citizens of Metru Nui like to believe. "What do you know of this island? And what do you expect to find at it's heart?" The old man’s answer was unwavering as it was disconcerting. There was no hesitation and he clearly spoke with unassailable authority on the matter, which was none too comforting considering the subject matter. “I know much about this Tren-Nui, my friend, and at its core I shall find nothingness.” Korruhn, fully preparing to get a non-answer, had already begun walking away as Stannis finished his last words. But as he uttered his name for the island, Korruhn froze in his tracks, and turned back to the old man. He smirked, only once before had Tren Krom's name been mentioned here, by the Administrator back at the Ruin of Ice. "Tren Krom's island. Of course. The Administrator mentioned him in the Ruin," Korruhn said. "Glyph walls said he is millennia older, and of equal power to, Mata Nui himself. Sent away to exile as to not interfere with Mata Nui's work. But now we find ourselves in his realm of exile?"

IC: Korruhn, Nuju's Observatory After leaving the Cartographer's tower, the two had walked a long, somber walk through the silent and empty shell of the former center of the bustle of Ko-Metru. Bodies littered the once immaculate streets between the myraid crumbling Knowledge Towers, blood mixing with the melting ice and flowing through the alleys. Not a soul seemed to live on here, and it seemed to Korruhn that these once great towers of knowledge had now become towers of memory--gravestones for all those who once called this place home. Once they reached the tower they had been after, Korruhn channeled his elemental gravity, lifting the pair higher, and higher, until they arrived at a massive, circular window. It bore two inner circles, with spokes holding them all to the outer frame, save for where a blast had shattered the glass and torn the metal frame inward on the left side. The two climbed inside. The room inside was a marvel in of itself. Where they landed, just inside the window, was a stepped, semicircular platorm with an elaborate telescope mounted to the floor. The walls were lined floor-to-ceiling and corner-to-corner with record drives, their power supply indicators faded, the hum of disks quieted. Several hemispherical devices of advanced design protruded from columns in the floor, withsome sort of umbilical lines connected to the vaulted ceiling high above them. In the back, a lone desk sat, cluttered with books, papers and maps. Korruhn was in awe. Although it was now in ruins, shelving collapsed, water rushing in, old computers sparking, it was still a sight to see. Previously, only the highest-level scholars of Ko-Metru had ever been allowed in here, and even then, none spoke of it. "Nuju was a wise man," Korruhn said as he observed the room. "Very secretive, even for a Ko-Matoran. I met him only a handful of times; he'd come by for maps, directions to some of the older ruins. But I've always been curious to see the inside of this place, even before the Abomination of Ko-Metru spoke his name." "I am unfamiliar with this place," Stannis admitted and then, after hesitating quickly, added, "and with the matoran. The names and faces blend together over the eons, and not all great people are memorized or met." He didn't mention the occasion when he stumbled upon Nuparu's assassination in Onu-Metru and how he hadn't even realized who it was until much after the death transpired. Everyone's faces had melded into each other's over time, such that only the anecdotes remained and there were none to be said about Nuju. Secretive, indeed, Stannis pondered as he looked around the quarters. Perhaps even he had some things to learn from this Nuju. "What were his societal functions?" Korruhn hesitated a moment. He had spent his entire life--save for the last three weeks--in Ko-Metru. It was hard, nigh impossible to imagine that someone couldn't know of the great Nuju. It was baffling, to say the least. "He was a Scholar, masters of knowledge. Trained by the great Seer himself, Ihu. Nuju was brilliant, and the most knowledgeable Scholar the world over. Were it not for his work, I'd have never learned to read some of these ancient glyphs." Ihu, Stannis thought, somewhat remembering that name at least. "So Nuju meditated on the Prophesies, then." It was not meant as an insult to the matoran's accomplishments in the slightest—rather Stannis was almost excited about uncovering any work a contemporary historian of sorts had compiled, though he was also trying to temper his enthusiasm... and shield any disappointment that may result after reading those works. Stannis moved over to a nearby table laden with scattered papers and trinkets of various sorts, baubles with orbs and bars and cones, and he leaned in close to one such device to inspect its mechanics. What he saw pleased him. "He was a true renaissance man; Metru Nui is worse without him." "Ah, but that's where you're wrong," Korruhn replied. "Nuju may not be here, but I don't think Nuju is gone. I think he was onto something, and I think there's a reason it was he who spoke to me on the Far Shore." He began rummaging the room while talking to Stannis. His hands pulled records from shelves, tapped at buttons on computers, and snatched up papers and texts from various surfaces of the room. Nuju was eccentric in his work, no doubt about that. Each sheet was littered with drawings, maps, and runes, as well as images of artifacts, carved walls, and other things vaguely familiar with the Cartographer. He recognized a few maps, and he was sure he had directed Nuju to a couple of the pictured carved walls, but what did Nuju glean from them that Korruhn had not? The Toa worked his way to the back of the room, stepping over rubble and piles of drives knocked from shelves, closer to the desk. Something compelled him to it, called to his spirit. It's fingers pulled at his very soul to peer closer at it. Korruhn's hand brushed aside a stack of papers to reveal a triangle, inverted, carved deeply into the desk with a letter knife. Similar to the one he found at the Ruin of Ice. He motioned to Stannis. "See, exactly what I mean." He pointed at the glyph engraved in the table. "I found something like this at one of the ruins on Zakaz. Why is there one here too? What do you make of it?" Stannis ambled about in the confines of the study, exploring each of the devices with various levels of interest and speculative interest. Each thing revealed some small fraction of this seer's persona. It was all very fascinating for the Wanderer, almost as though he was witnessing the scene of a fellow kindred spirit's attempts at understanding the functions of the Universe. Drawings, hastily abandoned and then left to scatter in the aftermath of the cataclysm, hinted at a delving into matters of the arcane, well beyond the concrete walls of reality most beings lived in. Whether he was wise in his studies remained to be seen, though the aged Aspect was growing to appreciate the curiosity Nuju apparently possessed. His touristic rummaging was not deliberate or rushed in any particular fashion, as what he saw was not new to him or particularly fascinating—he already knew and understood the purpose and design of the universe, after all—but it was Nuju that was the icon of his attention. All that changed, however, as soon as Korruhn brushed aside the stack of papers from another table and revealed a glyph. Immediately, Stannis could feel voices in his head that pulled his mind towards the glyph. An itch for knowledge that refused to be left alone. And an ancient hankering that begged to be fed for the first time in forever. Knowledge such as this was hard to find on the Ark, especially left unguarded as it was there. "Would you believe me if I told you this was meaningless drivel?" he said, almost jokingly in tone, as he wasted no time in coming beside Korruhn at the table. "No? Good... you shouldn't." It was a ritual, Stannis knew. He saw similar ones before, in another office, not long ago, but they were not his to take. Back then, he called them the obsessions of an ancient turaga from the Time Before Time. It was true—they were that—but they were also so much more. "This is magic, Korruhn," he said, extending his hand to lay on the etchings and appreciate the grooves of the carved relief. "Touch it," he beckoned. "This language is not one that you can read so much as feel. Let it flow through you, and tell me what it speaks to you." An unseen jolt of conscious energy leapt into his own arm as he laid his hand on the table's etchings as Stannis allowed the taboo to meld with his might. He motioned for Korruhn to do the same.

IC: Korruhn, Hiripaki Vault The Toa hadn't hesitated at Stannis' offer of rest, being well over a week out from his last moment to really get off his feet and let his body recuperate. He settled down on a tattered, dusty old overcloak, and drifted off. He slept soundly and without interruption, awakening many hours later, to the older being now standing over him. "Good morning," he said sincerely, reaching his hand out to help Korruhn to his feet. The younger Toa accepted the hand, and rose to meet him at eye level. "I hate to disturb you, but there are some things to which we must attend. And on the way, I have something to show you that I'm certain will be of interest. Now come, get your things. We'll set out immediately." Korruhn nodded, and motioned to the door with his right hand. He had brought nothing with him, nor did he have many worldly possessions in the first place. His old half-cloak, adorned with strange golden runes, a copy of one of his final iterations of a map of the city of Metru-Nui, and his sole remaining khopesh. All other things would only serve to weigh him down. There would be time for possessions when Korruhn had a home to call his own, someday. At least he hoped. Leaving the Vault, the two carried on down one of the circular tunnels outside of Stannis' vault. Korruhn's eyes scanned the surroundings as they went, in an attempt to find any sort of evidence as to the origins of the construction of this place, whatever it was. It seemed older than he could fathom; the layers of smile and mud clung to every surface of what Korruhn imagined to be a brilliant gleaming tunnel of polished metal like a carapace, burying with it great identifiers like toolmarks and fasteners. Lighting ran along the roof of the passageway, and at one point probably illuminated the tunnel with a warm soft glow; but time and wear had left but a few lamps, weakly flickering like a beacon in the darkness. The tunnel semmed to wind forever, are were it not for the tears and shifted portions of tunnel, Korruhn would have barely been able to tell they had made any progress. After what seemed like hours, Korruhn's night-adjusted eyes were struck by a blinding ray of light down the tunnel -- an exit? He looked to Stannis, and back to the light. Korruhn and Stannis marched forward, eager to see what awaited beyond. As they approached, Korruhn could begin to make out some sense of detail of the illuminated area. It appaeared to be an open break in the tunnel, with light spilling from above. Hoses and piping projected out at haphazard angles, some still spewing whatever once flowed through them. Far back beyond the carnage of piping and twisted steel, Korruhn saw something peculiar, or in fact, he heard it first. The unmistakable sound of rushing water, spilling from above their heads at the other end of the break. It semmed to pour endlessly from above, obscuring the crushed other end of the very tunnel they were in behind a massive waterfall. Korruhn stepped toward the edge of the gap, which, up close, was far greater than Korruhn's eyes initially perceived, almost 40 feet across. He couldn't help but begin to tip his head upward to see the source of this great waterfall piercing through the middle of this seemingly industrialized structure. And when his eyes finally found the top of the waterfall, and what seemed to be the floor above, he couldn't believe his eyes: large sheets of ice, slick from melt and waterflow, as far as his eyes could see. Jutting out from the ground in the distance at random, like the crooked, crumbling spine of a felled beast, they stood. The great Knowledge Towers of Ko-Metru. The Shadow Toa felt a lump in his throat, and a tightness in his chest, all form at once. He briefly turned his head before returning to the sight before him. His mind both screamed with excitement to see his home, and cried out in despair to see it not at as city, but as a corpse, desecrated and left to rot. Korruhn dropped to one knee, struggling to focus on standing under the weight of all he could see before him. He looked like he had a million thing to say at at once, but nothing came out. Korruhn had no words. OOC: @EmperorWhenua

IC: Korruhn, Hiripaki Vault "In the last week I have witnessed many of my friends die, and as many more betray our kind to the League. I've seen my entire world crumble before my eyes, and my new home burning from afar." A lump temporarily formed in Korruhn's throat. Was it he who had lost his way to destiny, or was it those around him? Becoming a Toa may not have been his true destiny at all, perhaps there was a greater torch before him, yet to be carried. A flame of great heat and intensity, with the power to vanquish beast an foe alike. And perhaps Stannis would be the one to guide him to it. "I find it illogical, in the calamity that is this world, for me to hold reservations about any means to accomplish my vision, Stannis. I have read the tales on the damp walls of crumbling temples, I've witnessed it myself. One must be willing to take any measure in order to elevate our world to where it is meant to be." Korruhn drew a breath deep into his lungs, and exhaled slowly. In this moment, he could see his path clearer than ever. The damp air of the vault felt like his first breath in a brand new world. "Show me what you have to offer, Illusive One," He looked directly into the eyes of the ancient being, and smirked. "And, please; allow me introduce you to the realm of the Far Shore." OOC: @EmperorWhenua

IC: Korruhn, Hiripaki Vault The elder's question had taken the Toa aback. He hadn't had the time to even rest in the past week, let alone contemplate what motivates him as a Toa, a protector, a warrior, and an emissary of Matoran history. He had been forced to set all of that aside, his life, his goals, in order for the animalistic nature of war and bloodshed to rage. He was a scholar, by trade, but the world had made him something else. A weapon. Korruhn felt a rush of enjoyment at being able to set that aside, and delve into the world of knowledge once again. "As they say, knowledge is power," Korruhn replied. "The world is full of... baser minds. Those content with the constant cycle of war, of embitterment, a detriment to advancement and enlightenment. They do not use their words, or their pens. Their only voice is violence, and they cast that accursed voice across our lands, unhindered by our most powerful warriors." The Toa paused, drinking in the fervor of his own words. In the silence, his mind's eye drew pictures of a beautiful utopia, a restored home. A world rid of the chains of avarice and suffering, flourishing. "Unfortunately, these baser creatures don't listen to reason. The only language to which they will respond is that of power. Only through strength will we attain order." OOC: @EmperorWhenua

IC: Korruhn, ??? Korruhn spun on his heels as quickly as he could, to see what unfortunate creature shared such a dingy space with the Toa. The room was quite dim, but oddly enough, his night vision had been getting stronger ever since he became a Toa. Probably linked to the sunlight-headaches. To his surprise, he knew the being before him now, in this strange cavern in a stranger land. And not only did he know him, he was a fellow Toa; although, much more wizened and learned than Korruhn and the others. Korruhn had met him before, in Dume's office. The last day on Metru Nui. Toa Stannis looked a little worse for wear since their last meeting, but then again, who didn't? "Toa Stannis?" Korruhn withdrew his hood as he spoke, revealing his newly disfigured, gilded mask. "I don't know if you'll believe me, but I have no idea how I got here." OOC: @EmperorWhenua

IC: Korruhn, ??? Silence. But, not the silence you would find in death, no. That silence is imperceptible, the dead cannot comprehend the whisper of the wind or the vacuity of silence. The neurons cease activity, the pulses of electricity that move a being from a mass of organic material into a functioning, conscious being are gone. Flesh rots, fluid evaporates. The mind ceases to wander, ceases to be. Reassured that for whatever reason, he wasn't dead, the very-much-alive Shadow Toa opened his eyes. A darkened mirror world of smoky illusions greeted Korruhn. He returned to the numbing void where his thoughts, not his motions, piloted his course. Steps left glittering trails in the dark sand of the beach. Fog rolled across the water. Shambling, translucent echoes of being wandered further off. No one greeted him this time The sights and sounds could not be comprehended by the mind of any living thing -- even ones who have seen the Far Shore. The landscape was constantly shifting: plates collided, creating eroding mountains before his eyes. Buildings, seemingly both brand new and immeasurably ancient, simultaneously built themselves and crumbled, plaster and decay dancing endlessly between construction and ruin, their true shape and nature indiscernible in their constant shifting forms. A beckoning warmth in this cold place called to him. Minutes or days away he could not tell, but it called like the warmth of a crackling campfire during a winter night. Korruhn could see a trail alighting across the ground. It moved and swam as a dim aurora of many colors in the direction of the warmth. His path made, all that was left was journey through a timeless place with nothing but the tide of the water beneath his feet for comfort. The march through purgatory seemed to take forever, and yet eventually, Korruhn came to find this world to be tangible enough to at least have a fixed point for the end of his journey. He exhaled, a small sigh of relief in this strange world. Before him, a purple-tinged smoke seemed to pour from a pile of ash on the ground, as though it were a recently extinguished flame. Korruhn felt a sudden compulsion to reach out into the smoke. --- The Shadow Toa awoke once more, although this time, it seemed, somewhere far more tangible and comprehensible. It was dark, and damp. The little light available cascaded through circular doorways, some misshapen and possibly damaged? Metal creaked, the entire area seemed to groan under it's own weight. It was cold, and familiar, although Korruhn could not place it. Korruhn stood up and turned, to see another circular door. Unlike the others, this one casted a strange, sickly green fluorescence to it. Feeling compelled, Korruhn approached the doorway. OOC: @EmperorWhenua

Hey guys! This is my first custom design I've felt comfortable sharing. It was created for a contest where we were challenged to recreate a movie scene. How do you think I did?

IC: Korruhn, Piraka Fortress The sound of the beach was a terrible one -- one of chaos, pain, agony. Wind tore through everything, shrieking as it went. Lightning cracked over the protodermic lake with enough decibels to shatter stone and shake the earth. And the beasts. The beasts howled their terrible symphony, haunting and ethereal, raw and painful. And now, one of these beasts was lashed to the end of Korruhn's arm, biting at the bit, begging for it's pound of flesh. Korruhn could all at once feel the creature's lust, it's anger. It coursed through his veins as it did the beast's. It's desire to feed was his. And he would satisfy it. The Shadow Toa and his hound lunged in unison toward the nearest opponent, almost a blur in the brilliant light of Ultan's firewall. The creature's Mahiki activated, and suddenly Korruhn's beast multiplied into 4, although which was the real one was lost on the nearest pair of scourge-beasts, who began to blindly lash out at the illusory beasts, desperately clawing at nothing. The real creature caught a scourge-beast in the stomach with it's bladed hand, splitting flesh like ribbon and evacuating the demon's viscera. Korruhn's gilded khopesh found provenance between the shoulder blades of the second, and both creatures exploded into a cloud of fine, crystalline dust. Were Korruhn not blood-drunk right now, he would have noticed two more golden handprints appear on his afllicted arm. An eye opened in the center of each, and they began to gaze, along with the first, out into a nothingness no mortal could see. A flurry of claws and blade danced across the battlefield, drawn to the scent of blood like Takea sharks around a shipwreck in the Silver Sea. Both Korruhn and his beast took hits, Korruhn gaining a fresh tear into his right shoulder, the beast losing an arm. But they trudged on, focused on nothing but elimination of all that stood in their way. The Shadow Toa's summon pounced one of the scourge-beasts, flaying his back and tearing it's head clean from the trunk. As the crystalline dust cleared, a fourth hand appeared. Korruhn's beast, missing an arm and limping heavily, made a hapless charge against a sixth scourge-beast, yet untouched by battle, fresher than his beast. The opponent went straight for the throat, sinking jagged teeth into artery, ending it's life as savagely as it began. With each bite own more blood and flesh splattered the mouth of the ravenous creature. As Korruhn's tether turned to dust, the sickly sound of a blade meeting a skull rang out across the beach. The scourge-beast dropped to it's side where it feasted, dead. A gilded khopesh jutted from it's broken skull. A sixth, golden hand appeared. And a sixth eye opened. OOC: @Unreliable Narrator @EmperorWhenua @The Captain @~Xemnas~

IC: Korruhn, Piraka Fortress The Shadow Toa slid clear through the cloud of crystalline dust that once was his adversary, halting his momentum with a forward roll into a kneeling stance, both hands firmly planted in front of him, his obsidian, gold-veined pair of khopesh still affixed between his thumbs and fingers. To his left, Atamai charged with all the ferocity of a hungry Kane-Ra, harnessing the awesome power of the six Great Discs, while Ultan miraculously maintained the wall of fire in front of Axonn. Turning his head further, Korruhn spotted Leklo, unarmed and being pursued by three of the creatures. Instinctively, Korruhn spun, throwing one of his khopesh high in the air, assisted by the Toa's control over gravity, towards his friend. Hopefully it would help. As Korruhn got the blade close enough to Leklo to withdraw his attention from it, the very air in front of Korruhn tore wide open, as though it were a festering wound in the fabric of space-time itself. The image inside warped shape and color, but through the distorted image, Korruhn could see the battered face of a white figure gaze directly at him, as though it could see the Toa through the Void. Though Korruhn's every logical though told him to question what was before him, he hadn't the time for quandary nor anything else of the sort. The battle raged, he and his friends were battered, and they needed a solution -- fast. Korruhn let go of all thought, focusing his attention on the void before him. His now-empty left hand reached out to the void, both a mere inch and a billion miles away at the same time. As his fingers inched closer, a black, tarry substance formed on his outstretched arm; first in droplets, which pooled to globs, which trailed into a solid cord that snaked from his wrist, seemingly reaching into the void before him. Korruhn's eyes widened as one of the helpless beings he saw walking the Far Shore before: a hideous black form not unlike a Matoran, but twisted, sickly, and malicious. It's eyes glowed a dead yellow, and the noble Mahiki on it's face was a horrid mixture of a black that seemed to absorb all light, and a horrible rust color. The creature was suddenly tethered to the other end of Korruhn's cord, and it immediately leapt through the tear before it disappeared out of thin air. OOC: @Unreliable Narrator @EmperorWhenua @The Captain @~Xemnas~