Eyru

IC: Taja | The Desert Taja closed her eyes. Of course. But there'd be time for that after she got some rest. She hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours, and the events of the past day had been tiring by anyone's standards. Her weariness seemed to go down to her very bones. "Wake me in a few hours," she said. She considered adding a please, but by then she was already asleep.

IC: Taja | The Desert A civilization much like her own? Taja hadn't expected to hear that. Had Matoran once lived her, long before the Skakdi? There might be ancient powers here that could help them, or secret knowledge that could teach her the shapes of the new stars and what they meant. Or maybe... maybe even a way of making her whole again. She shook that thought away. No sense in holding out hope for something that might not even be possible. "Let's go there, then," she said, rubbing her eyes. "To one of the temples. But... after I get a few hours' sleep." She laid down, using her bag as a makeshift pillow. Then a thought occurred to her. "If I know anything about this island, I guess these ruins will be pretty dangerous?" @Nato the Traveler

IC: Taja | Metru-Koro As a scholar and an astronomer, Taja always had an eye for the future. And as she listened to the various protectors of Metru-Koro conduct diplomacy with the sole League representative, her heart began to sink. She looked at the faces of the people she knew, and they suddenly seemed twisted and strange. She shook her head. It was obvious that no one really understood what was going on. People were still calling for peace like the League would listen. Look around! she wanted to shout. Look at what they've done! The village was in ruins, and now they were talking with this person like she hadn't just tried to kill them all? She remembered how, only minutes ago, the walls of the New Archives had shaken with the impact of the bombing. She remembered Nixie squeezing her eyes tightly shut, waiting for it to be over. She remembered the sound of a child crying. Were they supposed to forget all that? To march back to Metru Nui (the only home she'd ever known, the one the League had stolen from her) and talk peacefully with the warlords who had just tried to wipe them out? All they wanted was to live in peace. Nobody here wanted war. But it seemed to her that, in their desperation for peace, everyone was pretending like the past wasn't going to repeat itself. Taja's business was to look into the future. To listen to what the stars were saying about what was yet to come. But she didn't need a telescope to see what was going to happen. The League had driven them from Metru Nui. Strike one. Now they had reduced their new home to rubble and ash. Strike two. Taja was no historian, not by any stretch of the imagination, but even she knew the old adage: history repeats itself. They were all mad to think that the League wouldn't strike again—it was as predictable as a rhyme. The warlords didn't want peace. They didn't even want to rule over the Matoran. They simply wanted to annihilate them. And if she wanted to have any hope of stopping the genocide of her people, she needed to get stronger. The Toa looked sidelong at the creature beside her. Whisper was a strange and shadowy being, and she had deliberately tricked Taja into a bargain that had left her irrevocably changed. Stannis had called the Aspect a demon, but Taja wasn't inclined to agree. Alien might be a better word. In Taja's opinion, Whisper was not evil, but she did not understand empathy. Her very perception of the world had no room for compassion or pity. Everything she did was in service of her own ends. She had tricked Taja not out of cruelty or malice, but because it was necessary for her own plans. Even now, the Aspect didn't seem at all ashamed: she simply didn't understand why anyone would refuse power. This worldview was completely foreign to the Toa, but she realized that there was no one better to help her get stronger than a being who sought strength for its own sake. Whisper wouldn't accept or refuse power because it was good or bad: she would judge it by its own merit. If Taja was willing to put her disgust and pain aside, who knew what she might gain? If there was anyone who could help her get stronger, it was the one who had freely given her strength in the first place. "Come on," she said quietly. She turned away from the negotiations and walked away into the welcoming night, and the Aspect followed. * * * By the time the sun began to rise, the two were miles south of Metru Koro. Night in the desert was usually cold, but Taja found it only comfortably cool. The darkness was warm to her, like a friend, and however much she tried to deny it, she had to admit that she felt more comfortable under the stars than the sun. Even as the eastern horizon began to grow light and streaks of colour appeared in the clouds, she felt her eyes begin to protest. Now was as good a time as any to stop for a rest. She dropped her bag to the ground and looked around. There was nothing but rocky scrubland in every direction, but, to the northwest, the great skull of her old universe could still be seen like a shadow on the horizon. The Toa sat down with a sigh. Neither of them had spoken since they left the village, and Whisper seemed just comfortable in silence as she did. But they needed a plan. She couldn't just walk forever. "So," she said, her voice a little hoarse from disuse. "Where should we go now?"

Oh man, I'm a sucker for anything Pirates. It's nice to see the Imperials getting some love this time! 'The Fortress' feels more thematically consistent with previous Imperial sets, but 'Seagull Bay Lighthouse' is definitely the more dynamic and original of the two. I'm excited to see what comes of these! It would be great to see LEGO design a single set that combines the strength of both builds.

IC: Taja | Metru-Koro "I don't know," the Toa replied. And she didn't. She was a scholar, not a soldier. She had never seen a war until the day the League invaded Metru-Nui. Most Matoran hadn't. She supposed they were lucky to have been shielded from violence like that. But it made surviving in this new land all the more difficult when she didn't really even know how to protect herself. Even with the strength of a dozen Toa on their side, the League had easily been able to destroy what little they had managed to accomplish in their time here. Taja sighed as she walked past the blown-out husks of buildings and the piles of rubble that had once been huts. They needed to get stronger if they wanted to survive here. She needed to get stronger. For her people. What Whisper had done for her was something, but not enough. They were close enough now to overhear the conversation between her allies and a strange-looking Toa who appeared to be the League's sole representative. Taja didn't know why they were allowing her to parley like she had any sort of leverage, but she kept that to herself. She hung back and listened. OOC: @Nato the Traveler IC: Oreius | The Coliseum Scream for me? What was this guy, an actor? Oreius didn't have much interest in the theater, but he knew ham when he saw it. Their blades clashed in a shower of sparks, and he tried the same maneuver as before: bracing his sword with his shoulder, the Toa raised his fist and tried to punch Achro's sword. OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: Poroka & Company | Aboard the Wombat Poroka mama tell story one time. Mama say little fairies live in house walls. Listen every day. Sometime fairies hear bad thing and feel sad. So fairies make magic to fixing bad thing. Cute story. Poroka wonder if fairies live in ship walls. Hear Poroka having hard time and make big magic. Like... really big magic. Cause Poroka always big person, but this whole another level. Poroka wearing ship like pants! Poroka fist so big can grab new person and squish like bug! Really cool. Poroka reach to grab new people, but not used to big size. Poroka feel hand go through ship wall and hit ship engine. Big blue fire happen and burn Poroka hand. That make Poroka feeling more mad! Really! Other hand punch ship! Then one more time! Feet kick! Feel break ship floor! Too hard grab small people! So Poroka just clap hands together really hard! Big clap! Big noise. And ship get really squish. Ship make sad noise. Start to falling. ... Uh-oh. Poroka think maybe Poroka not think this plan through so much. * * * Dar Poroka's clap fuses the brown Vahki's circuitry with the walls of the ship. It does not mind. * * * The green Vahki turns to its instruments, but the side of the bridge is suddenly blown away by a swipe of the captain's giant tentacle, and the green robot is gone. The blue Vahki is unfazed. "Ship descending rapidly," it beeps. "Engines unresponsive. Disk mechanisms unresponsive. Failure level: catastrophic." Still, a pilot must go down with its ship. * * * In the cargo bay, the red Vahki whirs as it activates a special subroutine. It reconnects its neural link with the ship's weaponry. Ehlek's experimental weapon can no longer fire, but the main Hagah cannon is still fully functional. The robot mentally turns off several security options, bypassing the resulting alerts and warnings. The gun will charge until it melts down. The resulting explosion should incinerate the pulse generator along with everything else onboard. League technology cannot fall into rebel hands. The red Vahki stands beside the gun, its eyes flickering, and waits for termination. Not death. Just termination. It is not truly alive, after all. * * * The Wombat falls, much like wombats usually do when dropped from a height. Far below, the waters of the Silver Sea splash gently in the starlight. * * * Poroka take deep breath. Yell one last word: "Cannonballllllllllll...!" OOC: Well fought, everyone. The Wombat is now a pile of scrap metal approaching terminal velocity towards inevitable impact with the waters of the Silver Sea. The ship's gun is rigged to explode, but that may or may not happen before impact. I recommend getting your characters off the falling ship if you can. And if you can't? Well... better take a deep breath.

Advertising is allowed as per BZPower's Advertising Policy, but this content has already been posted in another topic, so I'm closing this one. Topic closed.

IC: Taja | Metru-Koro "I don't know," Taja answered. "It sounds like it might be." The mouth of the cave opened before them into an expanse of dark sky. Huge swaths of the village had been obliterated, but some huts still stood. Most were rubble. Only one airship remained in the sky—Taja recognized it as the Taku by its silhouette. It seemed they had won, or at least survived for another day. Who knew if the attackers would be back? And yet, Taja had a feeling that they really were gone. The night seemed to open itself up to her, and it felt like her senses were extending beyond their usual limits. She could see farther, hear more, and, if she wasn't imagining it, it almost felt like she could sense the emptiness of the sky. The darkness was unbroken, save by the bulk of the Taku, its deck lights glowing in the gloom. "Yes," she said, more confidently now. "I think it's over." OOC: @Nato the Traveler @Vezok's Friend

OOC: Thanks @EmperorWhenua for the jam. IC: Oreius | The Coliseum Achro's blade clattered to the floor, a spiderweb of cracks already spreading across its surface—Oreius's punch had infused it with Weaken energy from the Kanoka in his armour. Achro raised his remaining sword in both hands and willed it to burst into flame, then brought it down upon the other Toa. Oreius caught the blow on his own sword, but his opponent had the advantage of height and stature, and the attack forced him down to one knee. Achro pressed the advantage and struck again, and again, Oreius barely managed to deflect the blow. As his opponent raised his blade to slice down again, Oreius threw a hand out to one side and summoned a blast of fire that sent him skidding across the floor. He wasn't fast enough to completely dodge Achro's attack, however, and the mutated Toa smiled as he felt his sword bite at his opponent's armour. Oreius turned his skid into a roll and staggered to his feet, shaking off the impact of his opponent's strike. To Achro's surprise, the other Toa appeared unharmed. Despite landing a hit on his shoulder, there was no blood to be seen, and Oreius seemed no worse for wear. It was like he had taken a punch, not been sliced by a sword. Looking across the battlefield, Oreius prepared to continue fighting, but his eye was caught by the confrontation before the throne. Time seemed to slow down as Stannis allowed Pridak to thrust his weapon through his chest, driving his own spear through the Barraki in turn. Everything felt inevitable, like some god had preordained these events to unfold exactly as they did. Oreius had fought tooth and nail simply to arrive at the Coliseum, but no amount of fighting could change destiny. Stannis had always preached the inexorability of destiny—and destiny had finally come for him. But the old Toa seemed to embrace it. He pulled Pridak closer, allowing the blade to pierce him and emerge from his back. It seemed like he had known this would happen, like he had planned it out and made peace with it a long time ago. His chest ached like he had been stabbed himself. It was only a phantom pain, but Oreius would not have been surprised if it was real, and killing Stannis killed him too. Despite their long feud, the two were still connected. Their history was forged in blood and fire, and could not be so easily unmade. Oreius had done his best to forget that he had once known Stannis Maru, and he had done his best to forget why. But watching the warlord strike down the man he had once called brother suddenly brought those memories back to the surface, and the Toa of Fire found himself lost in a past he had tried desperately to forget... IC: Oreius and Stannis | Another Island in Another Time The day dawned red, and Oreius knew in his heart they were too late. But he stowed that knowledge away and clung to a desperate hope. The island spread out before them as the airship descended. Hills and valleys had changed in the years since his departure. Once lush and verdant, the ancient forests were now piles of smouldering ash. The green plains were now desert. The mountains themselves seemed smaller than he remembered, as if they had crumbled under the chisel of some vast and terrible architect; and their icy slopes had long since melted away, exposing bare rock. The rivers were dry. And the city. The place he had once called home was a broken pile of rubble. Even the distance could not hide the damage. It was unrecognizable. For a moment that stretched on forever the Toa Maru quad stood on the surveying deck of their airship in a stunned silence as they began to take stock of the foreboding land they were descending into. Reordin, quick to quip and slow to quit, was the first to speak his mind. He stood directly between and slightly behind Stannis and Oreius, leaned his head forward into their peripherals, and glanced at them both. "Nice, so much for the plan." Stannis wished his peer had not spoken the stab. He stood stoic as stone as he eyed the damages done, neither deigning Reo with a response or offering condolences to Oreo. Later on, eventually, he would come to reflect on the moment and regret his quietude, but at the moment all he could do was try to think of the words he would have said if he were someone else. "Nothing?" Reordin persisted, clearly expecting some retort of it-is-how-it-is or defense of the meander they had taken to arrive, but realized there was no such rise to be had. "Allllllll-righty." He leaned back and stepped away. Stannis was frustratingly restrained as ever. The enormity of the devastation still had Oreius in shock, but he was present enough to count the long seconds that passed without a word from Stannis. Reordin's quip was as predictable as ever, but the Ko-Toa was only voicing what they all were thinking. And their leader had no response. Even some trite words invoking Destiny or Mata Nui's will would have been better than nothing. But, for once, even Stannis had no scripture to justify what laid before them. It had been at his command that they delayed, not coming immediately to the island's aid. It had been by his counsel that they made space for diplomacy, hoping that cooler heads would prevail. And now he gazed upon the desolation their inaction had wrought, and he said nothing. Oreius had never completely fallen in lockstep with Stannis. Like Reordin, he was a soldier. He preferred to act first and ask questions later, and was often frustrated by his leader's tendency to do the opposite. But he had followed Stannis anyway, because he trusted him. Now, as their ship came down to land, he felt the last remnants of that trust burn away. They landed on the beach. A peninsula stretched out into the sea like a finger, and it was here the Matoran of the island had made their last stand. The sand was stained red, and the water frothed as it rolled in. The only sounds they heard from the beach were from the wind and the waves. Something that could only be described as a sensation loomed further in the island, where the closest village used to be, and the Maru stood there in stunned quiet a moment before Stannis finally spoke "Sulov and Reordin, check the perimeter and clear it if needed. Oreius and I will enter the village." The Toa obeyed, although Oreius had had already started moving before Stannis had finished giving the command. He entered the village at a light jog, swords unsheathed and eyes flickering from place to place, scanning for signs of remaining enemies. What he saw instead was the aftermath of a massacre. The outer wall had been broken in many places, suggesting that the enemy had surrounded the village and invaded from multiple sides. Stone huts were crushed like sandcastles. Wooden market stalls were ash. Some scraps of canvas still burned as they hung from their poles like flags of surrender. And the bodies. The enemy had never been known to take prisoners, and they hadn’t started now. Oreius’s jog turned to a dazed walk as he surveyed the destruction. He realized that he knew some of the fallen—they were old friends and neighbours, people he recognized despite having not seen them for a hundred years or more. This realization sparked a terrible fear that chilled his very bones, and he began to run again, no longer wary of hidden foes or traps. He moved like a man possessed, looking in the remains of huts and scanning the faces of the slain, abandoning each one on as soon as he could confirm that it was not who he was looking for. He had forgotten about the other Maru. He was alone in the carnage, fueled by an anxious hope, equally sure that he would find the one that he sought and that he wouldn’t. Perhaps he had made it off the island— perhaps he had hidden in some cave and been overlooked— perhaps he had been wounded in another fight and was lying somewhere in the burning jungle, waiting for help that would never come— These despairing thoughts washed over him like the tide, and Oreius didn’t have the strength to fight them off. That ever-present fire in his chest was burning bright with fear and rage, and each new thought only added fuel to the blaze. It would surely consume him soon enough, or else consume everything around him in a storm of righteous fury… …but when he found the one he was looking for, neither of those things happened. Instead, the fire in his chest simply went out. He dropped to his knees and cried out once in anguish, hardly daring to even touch the Matoran’s broken body. “No,” he said, his voice trembling. “No.” The Matoran’s eyes flickered at the sound, and his head turned slightly towards the Toa. A splash of gold rippled across his grey body. “Oreius?” he breathed. “I’m here.” He placed a hand gently on the Matoran’s cheek. Tears flowed freely from his eyes. “I’m here. Don’t move. You’ll be alright.” A ghost of a smile passed over the Matoran’s face. “I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew you’d come.” Oreius choked back a sob, then looked around for the other Toa. He needed help. There had to be something he could do. “Stannis!” he shouted, unable to keep the fear out of his voice. “Stannis!” In answer to Oreius's summons the older Toa hollered back, "I am here!" An instant later he came into view, running round the corner of a nearby hut, and wasting no time now in clearing the distance between he and his comrade. His twin spears were still holstered in an X across his back and they dipped and bobbed with uncharacteristic tempo, clicking with every pace as he wasn't yet sure if the dauntless Toa of Fire was in danger or in terror. As he came close he realized Oreius's calls for help were not for himself but for the Matoran horribly curled on the ground, somehow strong enough to have survived the massacre that had transpired. The little one barely clung to life, it seemed, but that he had lived this long was testament of his tenacity and determination. "I am here," he said again, softly this time, as he come up and quickly knelt into the mud next to the Matoran's crumbled figure, on the opposite side as Oreius. The Wanderer sighed knowingly. It was his call to have delayed the rescue operation, of course, and he knew the risks and challenges all along. He'd withheld information, bargaining on a chance that the battle could have been averted entirely, that the storm of swords would have swept elsewhere and not Oreius's home and heartland, that resources could be spared and employed elsewhere to greater effect, and he knew what was at stake for Oreius, that there were some costs that the return was simply not worthwhile to pay for. Oreius would never have allowed the Toa Maru to do anything else if he had known what Stannis did, and yet it had seemed all so necessary. But some costs... were too steep to bear. "Is this...?" Stannis asked. He knew the answer already. He asked anyway “Yes,” Oreius replied. He lifted his eyes to Stannis. Their gaze met over the body of the dying Matoran, and Stannis saw no anger in Oreius’s eyes. That would come later. There would be anger and judgment and even loathing in those eyes, but not now. Now there was only fear, as deep and dark as the ocean Oreius was a soldier, and he surely knew that the Matoran was beyond medicine. But hope is stubborn, and the thought of losing the one he loved was too horrific to bear. So he pleaded with Stannis like he was pleading with death itself. As if his words could somehow conjure a solution; as if there was some deep magic that would answer his summons if he just begged hard enough. “Please,” he said softly. “There has to be something. Anything. I can’t lose him. I can’t…” He trailed off and bowed his head. The Matoran’s heartlight flickered weakly with each shallow breath “Inu,” Stannis said softly. It wasn’t a name Oreius said much in waking hours but rather tenderly while dreaming. It was a sweet name for a good Matoran who had long possessed Oreius’ admiration more than Stannis or anyone ever could fathom. This was the consequence of coming too late, but it hadn’t ever been Stannis’ price to pay—then why had he gambled it away like it was his? He studied the sacrifice of dallying carefully as if weighing each breath on Fate’s scales. “No medpack or Leah’s balms can preserve what is already departed, Oreius. This cycle is set, I am so sorry, but I can help in another way. Tell me... —tell me what is it you wish for, more than anything else in the world?" he asked. “I wish I hadn’t listened to you.” Stannis winced at the accusation but said nothing. He knew he deserved it. Inu’s eyes closed, but he still breathed. The Toa’s hand still tenderly cupped his cheek. Oreius had heard Stannis speak these words before. Always destiny, always the cycle—these words seemed little comfort when Stannis spoke them to others, and now that he was on the receiving end of them, Oreius could indeed confirm that they meant nothing. He would gladly knock the wheel of time from its axle; he would throw destiny from its course and doom the universe in a heartbeat if it would save the one he loved. He knew it was impossible, but he wished for it anyway. “It should be me,” Oreius said, his voice cracking. “I wish it was me. I wish I could save him.” Stannis studied Oreius' face for a long moment like an artist seeking to deposit it into memory to draw later. It was aggrieved in torment, twisted not by hatred—not yet—but by an emotion Stannis often found elusive himself: Love. It was one of the most potent, a sum of many parts and a power few could break. To dismantle love of its strength took the disentanglement of fear, adoration, affectation, belonging, and so much more. Wars were fought for love, islands cleft in twain, suns blotted out, all for the sake of the heart. But when love manifested at last it presented itself as an ultimate irony; despite its power of character, it also was a weakness. Love was a string that could be pulled, a carrot that would relentlessly be pursued, for when the heart wanted it would stop at nothing to have. Stannis, the man Oreius thought he knew, looked into the Ta-Toa's eyes and saw for the very first time into his soul. It was a glimpse that would never be given in turn as the Wanderer's seeing pearls would never reveal more than their confounding opacity but what could not be discerned in the soul would soon become a cold comfort. Stannis had once commanded Oreius's trust, later reduced to mere respect, but soon all that would dissolve away. Oh, how quickly the bonds of brotherhood could wither away and turn to fear and hatred. Stannis, the man Oreius thought he knew, could not offer salvation or healing—those things were never in his nature—but he could still grant a wish. He could offer control. He could offer inseparability. He could understand, clinically, what Oreius truly wanted, the deep desire behind his powerless frustration. What had caused him to tip over the edge into desperation except the frightening possibility of being deprived of the one thing he worshipped more than Mata Nui himself? Love. "You want an eternal life with Inu," Stannis said quietly. "To weather every storm with him, in sickness and in health, for as long as the sun shines and the moon pulls the tides. You wish to never be separated from your beloved again—and ##### me, ##### everyone who gets in your way. Say it." Oreius didn't understand, but then when had he ever understood the Wanderer? The man always seemed to walk a path no one else could see, and he spoke in riddles no one else could comprehend. Now he seemed to be offering something unattainable, something no one could possibly offer... as if he could do the impossible if only Oreius would just believe. The Toa of Fire looked down at the one he loved. Inu's heartlight was fading now. Each breath came too slowly, and the movement of his chest was almost imperceptible. If there was anything Stannis could do—if, for once, he was offering action instead of words—then now was the time to take it. "Yes," he said. "Yes, ##### you. Just give him back to me. I can't lose him again." "I have the power to give you what you desire," Stannis said. "An inseparable life together with your beloved none would ever be able to take from you. But it will not be easy, and I need you to promise me to not only keep my power a secret but to guard this nature for as long as I live. I will demand nothing more from you but will expect nothing less. "Do you agree?" he asked again, this time knowing full well Oreius would consent. He had no other choice. Love would have it no other way. A nod. Stannis almost withheld what he said next, almost swallowed the words and walked away right then. Oreius was like a brother to him, a comrade he had once trusted and cared for more than most, and once he did what he would do there would never be a relationship ever again. Trust had long since been shattered, but what was asked for next was a sacrifice of all civility. "Then give me Inu's beating heartlight," he finally said. Oreius's eyes snapped up. Here was the anger now. The incredulity. And... beneath it all, the desperation that would inevitably win out over both of them. "What?" "What I said, I have said," Stannis spoke evenly, hand held out expectantly. Oreius's appearance of doubt was only that: an appearance. Stannis could have asked for the sun, and the Toa of Fire would have found a way to pull it down from the sky. There was nothing he would not do for the Matoran who laid dying between them. So after a moment of wary judgment, he dropped the façade and obeyed. His sword flashed in the sunlight. Inu's body buckled. It was done. The man Oreius thought was a Toa of Stone took the quivering organ in hand and held it lovingly like a scientist with a prized experiment. There was no mirth, but there was anticipation... and deepest sorrow. This was a betrayal of the deepest kind to Oreius as much as it was a testament of love. Stannis had truthfully hoped for any other twist of fate, any different path to Destiny, but this was the thread that there was because of the actions of a select few. Stannis hoped Oreius understood the Wanderer's action was an admission of culpability and an act of penitence, an exchange of his true nature for the vulnerability Oreius had given in passion. He understood that the chances of that mourning being understood were slim, yet he was bound to carry out the ritual regardless. He struggled to remember the words—it had been literal eons since he practiced any of his old craft, before even he came to possess the body and then ultimately devour the soul of the Toa Hagah he would come to fully embody—but they were still there, extant words in the ether of his primordial mind, and he recollected and arranged them again like lost letters in a soup. "Goodbye, Hello. Step forth into the darkness and prepare the gift. A star’s heart still beating, still lit, Two midnight horrors cry and shift. Make them squirm inside the pit Bind worm and willing host, Tear the yolk and spread its gold, Devour knowledge and their ghost. Pray for prey forever sold. Hello, And goodbye." He offered the heartlight, transformed into something alien and sentient, to Oreius and it slithered under his armor with haste. It bound itself to Oreius' body, slipping into his shoulder and grasping his spine, but there was no pain. There was no fear. There wasn't even any anxiety. The kraata spoke to Oreius in soothing melodies, sharing images of a life they had lived and had dreamed of fulfilling while holding hands under the blanket of nighttime stars, back when he was something other than a kraata and the whole of the Universe was their oyster. Inu and Oreius had fantasized of a life together, and now they had been given that chance. There was no agony felt. There was only... love. The Toa of Fire raised a hand slowly to the back of his neck where the kraata had attached itself. He stood and realized that he no longer stood straight and tall as he had before—he now carried a slight hunch. He would carry Inu's small weight forever, bearing the burden of his love across the universe, never to be parted. "There is no power greater than love," Stannis said. Inu's ichor still dripped from his fingers; he dared not wipe it off, literally staining his hands with Inu's blood. "It is all I can do to ensure that Inu shall forevermore be a source of strength to you. I have given you the power of limited invulnerability—you are to be protected against most physical harm and the effects of harsh environs. Forevermore." The wizard—for that was what he truly had become in Oreius's eyes then—lowered his head then. "What is done is done. From this point forward, nevermore am I your brother." Oreius looked down at the kneeling Stannis (was that even his name?) and finally saw him for what he truly was: a strange, eldritch spirit masquerading as a Toa. They understood each other now. For all his talk of righteousness, the Toa of Stone was a fraud. And for all his talk of justice, the Toa of Fire was willing to deal with a demon for his own gain. They would continue to lie to others in the centuries to come—to present themselves as righteous and just. Both would believe they were doing it for the greater good. But they saw each other plainly now, and so it was inevitable that Oreius would turn and walk away. No more would they be brothers. No more would they draw swords together. Each was a painful reminder to the other of their true nature, and so they were doomed to part ways until the sun went dark and the stars themselves were shaken free from the skies. IC: Oreius | The Coliseum Blinking back the memories, Oreius shook himself free of the past and rejoined the battle, swinging his sword at Achro with an angry shout.

IC: Taja | The New Archives The blasts had ceased, and the ground no longer shook. After a cautious pause, Taja decided to go see how the battle was faring. The least she could do was confirm if it was safe for everyone to leave or not. Maybe the worst was over. So she stood up and began to weave her way through the villagers, making for the tunnel's entrance. OOC: @Nato the Traveler

I would have to decline because I don't know you! Sorry! WWYDI every time you said the name of a food, it fell out of the sky?

IC: Poroka & Company | Aboard the Wombat The green Vahki beeps in Knichou's ear. "Her command was to cease hostilities. Not to cease movement. Until an overriding command is given, this ship must continue to obey its captain's last directive." Its yellow eyes do not blink. It is not afraid. But neither is it brave. It simply is. It cannot be anything else. "My programming does not allow me to contradict my captain's orders. Even to preserve my own safety." It pauses. "Unfortunately, I do not calculate a favourable outcome for myself in this scenario." * * * Zaliyah's broadcast continues to blare over the intercom: "This is Toa Zaliyah of the League of Six Kingdoms, calling all vessels in the vicinity! The battle is over! The people of Metru-Koro have agreed to discuss terms! All ships, cease hostilities! ... This is Toa Zaliyah of the League of Six Kingdoms, calling all vessels in the vicinity! The battle is over! The people of Metru-Koro have agreed to discuss terms! All ships, cease hostilities!" The red Vahki obediently retreats to the cargo bay. * * * The brown Vahki fires its disk, but the first of Amarth's shots blows out one of its optical receptors, and the second rips through its onboard launching mechanism, sending the disk off course. It flies past Amarth—she doesn't even need to dodge—and hits the biggest target onboard. * * * New person dodge kick. Grab Poroka leg and try to punch it. But before can do anything, something hit Poroka in the back. Not hard. It not hurt. But suddenly... Poroka feeling funny. Poroka feeling... big. * * * The Wombat glides almost silently through the night on its course towards the fallen skull of Mata Nui. Its engines hum pleasantly, but they are not loud. Most of the work is done by the levitation Kanoka, and the only noise they make is a gentle ping whenever they strike the hull of the vessel to keep it airborne. Hours ago, the night was cloudy and dark, and the League ships used that darkness as cover to slip undetected towards Metru-Koro. Now, however, the clouds have drifted apart, and the stars shine down upon the silver hull of the ship. It glimmers softly in the dark under the light of constellations its builders never saw, and soars over a land they never imagined. The night is tranquil. Then the peace is broken by the sound of metal breaking. A massive fist punches through one side of the ship, and then its counterpart punches through the other side. A massive, luminescent head bursts through the silver hull, glowing blue and yellow. The head opens its gaping maw and roars a challenge into the night. It raises a metal-enveloped fist, ripping through the hull effortlessly as it does so, then brings it down on the stern of the ship, crushing the engines like a tin can. They emit a flare of blue fire in brief protest, and then are silent. The stars continue to twinkle merrily from their places in the sky. Inside the ship, however, the mood is not quite so cheerful.

IC: Poroka & Company | Aboard the Wombat The green Vahki whirs at Knichou's command, but before it can obey or not, a new transmission comes in. "This is Toa Zaliyah of the League of Six Kingdoms, calling all vessels in the vicinity! The battle is over! The people of Metru-Koro have agreed to discuss terms! All ships, cease hostilities!" "That your captain? I'd suggest turning this ship around." Evidently, the Toa of Iron has received the broadcast too. The green Vahki's eyes flicker briefly as it processes this new information. "It is not the captain of this vessel," it says, its correction buzzing in Knichou's ear. "However, as she is the commanding officer on this mission, we will obey her instructions." It presses a button to repeat Zaliyah's broadcast over the ship's intercom. * * * The brown Vahki's shot misses. Its opponent is agile. She fires her gun, but the robotic soldier is already folding into quadrupedal mode. The bullet pings off the wall of the airship. The Vahki scuttles back on three legs, charging a disk as it retreats towards the bridge, its eyes still flickering periodically to Druu. * * * The red Vahki pokes its head out from the cargo bay to see a battle in progress. "You are in violation of several major airspace codes," it chirps to no one in particular. "Cease your resistance." * * * Suddenly Poroka's hand really hurt. Try to hit new person, but miss. Sword go funny and turn into ball around Poroka's hand. Feels like teeth. Ouch! Poroka try to drop it, but can't. It's stuck! "Rrrrrgh!" Poroka growls. Feel angry. Other sword still good. Poroka swing other sword at new person! "I WILL CRUSH EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY IF I MUST!" Someone's yelling. Sword arm get caught in vines suddenly. Not hit new person. That really make Poroka have frustrate feeling! In this kind of time, when feeling angry, Poroka remember Mama's advice... * * * "Remember, my little fish," she'd say, bouncing her four-armed son on her knee. "What do you do with the mad that you feel? When you feel so mad you could bite? When the whole wide world feels oh so wrong, and nothing you do seems very right? "What do you do? Do you punch a bag? Do you pound some clay or dough? Or, my sweet little darling child... "Do you rip out your enemies' throats?" * * * Poroka roar, and swing arm hard. Vines pull new new person and smash him into ship wall! Other arm rip free from vines, smashing weird sword-ball into ship wall and make huge dent. Poroka hold on to ceiling with tentacles, then pull up and try kick new person in the face! Some message play on radio? Whatever. Poroka not hear. Too busy being mad.

Hi @The Dark Ruru. Please make sure to check the date of the last post in a topic before you add a reply. The post before yours was made in September 2016—almost four years ago! This counts as topic revival. If you would like to continue the discussion, feel free to start a new topic. You can PM me if you have any questions. Topic closed.

IC: Oreius | Pridak's Throne Room, the Coliseum Oreius ducked behind one of Stannis's stone outcroppings, the Vahki's shot missing him by inches. Suddenly, he felt the wall of fire come under his control. His will unchallenged, the flames billowed up again, cutting off the Vahki's sightlines once more. He quickly realized why the other Toa of Fire was no longer fighting him for elemental control: Achro was choosing instead to attack him physically. Oreius barely managed to catch the other Toa's strikes on his own sword, bracing the blade with his free arm. The blades rang as they met, throwing sparks into the air. Both of Achro's swords briefly resting on his own, Oreius raised his free hand into a fist and struck at one of the blades. OOC: @Toru Nui @Vezok's Friend

IC: Poroka & Company | Aboard the Wombat As Knichou starts to stick the barrel of his rifle through the opening, a tinny voice sounds in his ear. "I surrender."

IC: Poroka & Company | Aboard the Wombat "Your noncompliance has been noted." The green Vahki beeps thoughtfully as the Wombat continues its westward journey. Direct assault is necessary to activate combat subroutines. The Toa's threat, as blatant as it is, does not suffice. It will continue to pursue a nonviolent course of action. "I am not programmed to negotiate surrender. Negotiations must be made through the captain of this vessel, who is currently engaged in combat with your compatriots. If you would like to request an appointment, I can attempt to schedule one. It will likely require a temporary ceasefire." The robot continues to stare up at Knichou. It cannot be intimidated. It does not consider this incapacity to be a weakness. But that is because it is also incapable of self-reflection. Even its own perception of its programming is shaped by its programming. It does not realize that it cannot be objective. But then, who does?

IC: Poroka & Company | Aboard the Wombat "Greetings, Toa." The green Vahki's metallic voice crackles over the airwaves. The ship continues its swift trajectory towards the looming skull that houses Metru-Nui. "You are in violation of multiple airspace codes. We request your immediate debarcation from this vessel."

IC: Oreius | The Coliseum The wall of fire suddenly dimmed; Oreius could feel someone fighting him, trying to gain access to the throne room. Forgetting about Pridak for a moment, he turned his full attention to the wall of flames. It surged up again, higher than before, then shrank again as the other Toa responded. Only one of the Vahki managed to get a shot off, but the Toa it was aiming for dodged and hid behind the throne. The other three were still blocked off. The two Ta-Toa continued to struggle elementally, neither able to wrest full control of the fire from the other. * * * IC: Dar Poroka & Company | Aboard the Wombat Peering through the window, the red Vahki sees Knichou detach from the hull, his damage done. He falls for only a moment before his suit's flight abilities activate, sending him arcing back up towards the ship. The Vahki chirps mechanically and directs its nullification power towards the airborne Toa, but his ascent is unaffected. The Vahki whirs in disappointment. It communicates its observation to the bridge, then climbs out of the cargo bay to investigate the noise above. * * * Thanks to the red Vahki's message, the green Vahki is waiting for Knichou to appear. It cranes its neck up at the Fe-Toa peering into the bridge, then raises a hand in acknowledgment. The Toa's ability of flight must be technologically based, else he would have tumbled out of the sky. Perhaps his tech has other functions as well. So the Vahki broadcasts a short-range radio signal and waits to see if the Toa will answer. * * * Behind Poroka, the brown Vahki raises an arm to block Amarth's strike. It successfully deflects the blow, but at the cost of half-severing its arm. The limb dangles from its shoulder socket, split wires sparking. It is a necessary sacrifice. Bringing herself into melee range only makes the next shot that much harder for Amarth to dodge. The Vahki's staff fires point-blank into her torso. * * * Poroka swing swords at new person. New person get cut bad. He's distracting by new new person who come up behind him and shout: "In the name of Metru-Koro, you will surrender this vessel over to us!" "Nuh-uh!" Poroka says. "This is Poroka's ship, okay? So if you not like it, get off please!" Swing swords at new person again. He keep getting blood all over ship floor. Someone gotta clean it later. Thinking about that makes Poroka angry. Cleaning no fun. Suddenly something hit sword. Too late for stop swing, so Poroka swing at new person with a— OOC: @Sparticus147 can decide what new weapon Poroka will attack Druu with.

We're doomed.

IC: Tuakana | Ruins of Fire Their wizened finger, mottled with plant life and dark with the dust of years, pressed to the faintly glowing mark. Instantly, the Taboo flared to life in their mind's eye. Indecipherable only moments ago, it now overflowed with meaning. Each curve and mark in its shape formed syllables whose sounds they had long forgotten. It was an old tongue, a language of curses and blasphemy, and the secret written in this dark speech would make lesser beings tremble. But they were no lesser being. This knowledge was theirs by birthright and by blood, and they would take it. Its physical glow had faded, but the glyph still shone in their mind. They felt as though the world were expanding rapidly, leaving them at the centre of an incalculable void. The taboo knowledge rippled through their spirit. Its dark light washed over them, imbuing them with a subtle and terrible understanding. This cursed knowledge was nearly too great to comprehend; it threatened to overwhelm them, to drive them mad, but they wrestled it to their will. They opened their unseen eyes. They did not know how much time had passed, but that sensation was not foreign to them. With a thought, they slowly descended back to earth. The pillar of shadow shrank until once again their mossy feet came to rest on the ground. High above them, the once-glowing Taboo had faded completely, and could no longer be seen.

This is such a detailed set! It looks exactly like the NES... which is funny because the NES is really just a grey box. But wow, when he turned that crank and Mario started moving through the level... mind blown. Such cool functionality! Major props to the designers. I'm super impressed, even though it's a bit out of my budget right now.

IC: Oreius | Pridak's Throne Room, The Coliseum "I'll say this just once," Stannis said as though time had not passed at all. "We are not doing 'get help.'" Oreius smiled mirthlessly. He knew he should have been surprised to see Stannis here, but he wasn't. In fact, he was profoundly unsurprised. Of course Stannis would be here; it was as predictable as the sunrise. The old man had always talked of destiny, and now fate had drawn the two estranged brothers together after a thousand years, like it was meant to be. Of course the Wanderer was here. Of course he had seen his old comrade about to arrive, and set out a doormat for him. Of course he spoke now as if all this time had not passed—as if that fateful day had never happened. As if they could take back what they knew of each other now. There would be time for that later. For now, there was Pridak. The Toa's knuckles tightened around the hilt of his sword, and his free hand sparked suddenly into flame. Millennia ago, he had sworn he would never fight beside Stannis again. The sun would die in the east and the stars would fall from the sky before he drew swords with the one he had once called brother. It seemed destiny was not without a sense of irony: his curse had been a prophecy all this time. The sun was dead and the stars had fallen, and now the last of the Maru stood together one last time. A door to the side slid open, and six figures stepped inside. Four Vahki. A Vortixx. A Toa. Oreius's focus snapped from weak point to weak point as his Kanohi highlighted them one by one. The Vahki began charging their staves, ready to unleash their powers upon the combatants. The least he could do was not give them an easy shot. Clenching his free hand into a fist, the Toa of Fire jerked his arm upward. A corresponding wall of flames suddenly billowed to life around the new arrivals, cutting them off from the main fight. The two accompanying beings might stagger back from the heat, but Oreius knew the Vahki would not be deterred. Still, now they couldn't see where they were aiming, and they probably wouldn't fire without a clear shot, for fear of hitting Pridak. That threat taken care of for a few seconds, Oreius turned his attention to Pridak, focusing on his flaws. * * * IC: Dar Poroka & Company | Aboard the Wombat The green Vahki blinks. It has learned that Zaliyah survives but refuses rescue, for fear of the League losing all its ships in a single battle. The automaton offers the appearance of hesitation. It is willing to sacrifice itself to rescue the captain, but it does not have the capacity to refuse an order given. Its programming is clear: protect the ship. Protect the captain. Make every effort to return League assets to the Metru Nui, and destroy what cannot be salvaged. Here is a quandary: the Razorfish is crippled. Its captain intends to try diplomacy, but the green Vahki does not calculate favourable odds. Should the Wombat now fire its weapons upon its sister ship? Better to obliterate League technology than risk losing it to the enemy. Knichou makes that decision for them. The red Vahki attempts to fire, but the weapon beeps twice to signal an error and begins to power down. Hydraulic pressure drops to zero. Its operator whirs softly as it communicates this information to the bridge, then detaches itself from the gunner's chair. It cannot see Knichou, but it calculates that someone must be there. So it steps to the side and peers through the window, searching for the cling-on. Meanwhile, those on the bridge have determined that there is little more that can be accomplished here. Their long-range weapon down, they have no means of assault that will not bring them within range of Metru-Koro's defenses (however crude those may be). So the engines burn bright blue, and the Wombat turns sharply to adjust its course towards home. * * * The ship's turn throws off Amarth's aim, and her bullets pepper the brown Vahki's armour. Sparks fly, but it is more or less unharmed. Nevertheless, this kind of direct assault activates a subroutine, and it raises its staff of suggestion. The weapon glows white, then fires a blast at the intruder. * * * New person stumble back. Hurt from swords! Bleeding a bit. Good job, Poroka! Hear gun fire behind Poroka. No worries. Robot strong. Robot tough. Robot can handle it. So Poroka keep walk towards new person. Keep swinging swords. Come on, new person! Show Poroka what you got! * * * IC: Taja | The New Archives Even underground, the sound of blasts and explosions sounded loud. The walls trembled, shaking bits of dust and debris to the tunnel floor. Taja clenched her fists, wishing desperately there was something she could do to help. Maybe if she wasn't... like this. She shook her head. Even before her transformation, she would've been useless in this kind of situation. That was why she'd listened to Whisper in the first place. The creature no longer filled her with disgust as it had, but the sight of its rippling tails still made her feel queasy. Hopefully she wouldn't regret keeping it around. Hopefully it could help her become something better than she was. * * * IC: Tuakana | Ruins of Fire Either they do not hear their companion's exclamation, or they do not care. Or perhaps they do not comprehend it: so much escapes their notice. Often, they simply do not understand that they have missed anything at all. But not this. Not this glowing mark that beckons. It consumes their focus. It is everything. They rise. They cease before the rune. Ancient arm still extended, they press their finger to the Taboo.

Definitely a good idea. The focus should be on using the rigged fights to develop storylines between fighters, and having too many fighters will only slow the game down. I might even suggest only one fighter per player, to make everything move faster and make each character more recognizable.

Hey @TheBrokenMicrowave, please make sure to check the date of the last post in a topic before adding a reply. The last post before yours in this topic was made in 2017—almost three years ago! This counts as topic revival. If you'd like to continue the discussion about BIONICLE projectiles and their launchers, please feel free to start a new topic. Topic closed.