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Eyru

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  1. IC: Reliable Narrator | Icarax's Temple "Look to the south of the mountain of fire," Icarax said. "You will find the great temple there. It was once abandoned, but has since been reclaimed by the matoran. Enter their domain with caution, for they are wary of our kind." IC: Reliable Narrator | Kumu Peninsula Viltia's search for another door proved fruitless. The broken black stones were nothing more than what they appeared. There were the broken remains of pillars and the ruined skeletons of what had once been the walls and ceiling of some kind of building, its purpose long lost to the ravages of time. Boulders here and there were just that—boulders. Except for one. "That's the biggest entrance I've ever seen," said the rock rahi. "I'd give it two thumbs up if, well, I had any." It rolled from side to side a bit, as if to emphasize its lack of thumbs.
  2. Wow, this is really well done! This is a really efficient build: every piece is used deliberately. There are so many great parts —the belt with the shell buckle, the shirt, the crab-like shoulder piece— but my favorite has to be how you pulled off the cartoony "angry eyes." They look so good! Excellent job!
  3. Congratulations to @Onaku on unlocking Spiriah's profile!
  4. Spiriah, Aspect of Faith Breed: Aspect of Makuta (6th milestone completed) Faction: Aspects of Makuta Description: In the thousands of years since the departure of the ark, Spiriah has ascended beyond the need for a physical form and now exists as a deity for the mesi peoples in the darkness of the underground. He is the shadows beneath the earth. In order to interact with the world, he usually possesses one of his many desecrated mesi. Background/Occupation: An elder aspect near the completion of their Grand Wish. Spiriah leads the mesi as their god, gaining their full support and religious zeal. They worship him by creating large pits where shadow lingers, and they provide offerings to these pits in the hopes of hearing Spiriah’s commandments. As such, Spiriah can freely call upon the NPC horde that serves him. Flaws: Spiriah is conflict seeking, and enjoys toying with his victims. He is stubborn and selfish. He loves a good "villain speech" and revels in the suffering of those who cross him. Spiriah is terrified of losing his power. He believes the weak exist to be dominated. Spiriah no longer has his own physical armor, as it walked off one day and never returned. He now must exclusively possess his followers. Powers: Primary: Elemental control of shadow Secondary: 6th level kraata power of confusion ??? [interact to reveal more!] Breed quirk(s): Spiriah has successfully completed six of his milestones. He now seeks to accomplish his final milestone and achieve his Grand Wish. Grand Wish: ??? [interact to reveal more!] 1st Milestone Completed: Telepathic audio communication with an individual desecrated follower currently on the same plane of existence. 2nd Milestone Completed: Kraata power stage 3, see through the eyes of their desecrated on the same plane 3rd Milestone Completed: Kraata power stage 4, remotely possess their desecrated through shadow puppetry 4th Milestone Completed: Kraata power stage 5, teleport to one of their desecrated’s shadows. 5th Milestone Completed: Kraata power stage 6, teleport their desecrated to their shadow. 6th Milestone Completed: Kraata power stage 7, all previous ascension perks now work between planes Known Taboos: Rites of Desecration Rites of Infectious Kraata Rites of Kraata Sense Rites of Repose Equipment: Great Disks (rendered from Arkius Nuva Proxima) The backing of his Mesi servants
  5. IC: Reliable Narrator | Spiriah's Labyrinth As Arkius flung himself away from the gaping pit, a terrible scream echoed out of its cavernous maw. It was a primal sound—the kind of shriek that usually precedes one suddenly snapping awake in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. But there was no awakening here, and as the scream continued past where it would usually be cut off by sudden wakefulness, it disintegrated into a harsh, scraping, clawing noise that tore its own echoes apart into ragged shreds and scraps of sound. The screech seemed to fall in pitch, becoming slower and deeper and wider and higher and longer and sharper and everywhere and nowhere all at once. It was the sound of confusion made manifest, and the aspect of faith was its source. Spiriah had long since abandoned his physical form. He made his dwelling in the dark places beneath the earth that have never known the sun. He spoke only through his worshippers, and without them he was simply darkness incarnate. It was this shadow that dwelt in the pit, nothing and something at the same time. It was malevolence and cruelty and guile and spite. It was the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things unseen. It was knowledge seen through a glass darkly, and it looked hungrily upon the escaping Arkius with all the venom and hatred cultivated over an age spent gnawing at the island's roots. The aspect bent his will upon the toa, attempting through his powers of confusion to disorient the toa until he could not even tell which way was up, let alone how to escape. At the same time, he shouted through his mental link to his followers who waited outside: Close the way! The strength of this shrieked mental command caused one or two of the mesi to shiver and massage their suddenly throbbing temples with trembling fingers. The remainder sprang into action. Each joined with their battle-sibling—the one whose powers called their own to life—and worked to seal the door. The stone hallway slammed shut, sealing Arkius and Spiriah into the chamber within. Simultaneously, several mesi of differing powers summoned a torrent of magma up from the bowels of the earth. They could feel it bubbling and melting as it rose, causing the ground to tremble and groan as it did. They directed the molten rock to flow up and over the sealed cavern in the hopes of creating a liquid barrier that even a toa of earth could not breach. More mesi approached from the distant tunnels, their war cries already beginning to sound. Their god had called, and the horde would answer.
  6. IC: Reliable Narrator | Icarax's Temple "You think I wish to deceive you," Icarax said sternly. The shadows in the room seemed to grow darker and more opaque. "To trick you into paying too high a price. Have you spent so long among beings of flesh and metal that you have begun to believe their lies? Or perhaps you have listened overlong to Sorilax and his muddled philosophies on our kind. Darkness does not deceive, sister; do not mistake shrewdness for deception. Shadows speak only truth, for their forms reflect that which cast them. They are as evil as a mirror. Shadows grow small under the noonday sun, and they grow long as it sinks to the earth. Even the apparent obscuration of night is only the shadow of the planet speaking a celestial truth." A pause. The shadows returned to their earlier forms. "But, then, I suppose you are wise to expect deceit. This is a cruel world, and few can see as clearly as I. I will forgive your slight for the sake of our familial ties and speak plainly. I have spent years uncountable on the pursuit of knowledge. In the course of that quest, I lost my physical form. My children serve as conduits for my presence, and this temple is as close to a body as any building can be, but I have not yet ascended beyond that terrible ache, that yearning for a corporeal vehicle that ever besets our kind. I will provide you with the energized protodermis you seek in exchange for this task: "Descend below the great temple. There you will find the dark walk, the Mangaia. Reclaim the armor that waits there and return it to me."
  7. IC: Reliable Narrator | The Coliseum A vahki did as Aurax asked. IC: Reliable Narrator | Icarax's Temple Motes of dust drifted gently in the beam of dingy light as Icarax considered Whira's answer. "Wise of you, sister," the dusty voice finally said, emanating from every corner of the room. "Even the strongest of our kind fear that tainted stuff. Only the arrogant would think they could master it. And although its pure counterpart has grown less rare in these late days, it remains elusive for those without friends in central places." A pause. The rahkshi shifted its stance. "I possess that which you seek," Icarax continued. "But it cost me dearly to acquire it, and I would not part with it for less than I paid. What would you offer for such a treasure?" IC: Reliable Narrator | Great Telescope Kas reached out and snatched the mask from Mahrika, hefting it in his hand. It was indeed the same mask. He placed it on his face and breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the power of quick travel become available to him again. "Perfect. Wonderful. Amazing. Lovely," he said. He looked up at the titanic figure before him and fought back a chill from running down his spine. "And if you're gonna vouch for the, uh... big guy, I guess I'll take it. We're cool as long as he doesn't try any funny business." The titanic figure in question blinked slowly. Their rode detected no lies... yet. Meanwhile, Ollem looked through the eyepiece of the telescope. It took a few turns of the dial, but he managed to find the red star he sought. It hovered in the far east about three quarters of the way from the horizon to the zenith of the sky, glimmering between two less bright stars. IC: Reliable Narrator | Kumu Peninsula Viltia grew until the ground cracked under her weight. Looking around, she saw the rocky ground extending in every direction. She saw some jagged hills in the distance, and what looked like a series of standing stones in the other direction. She saw thickets of dead trees and clusters of hillocks. She saw ruined structures with the occasional small rahi scuttling between them. The eerie mists made judging distance difficult, and everything was a little hazy, but she was definitely still on the peninsula. IC: Reliable Narrator | Le-Metru Nuva Wairuha's fingers twitched as the echoes of Nektann's roar passed over the island.
  8. IC: Reliable Narrator | The Archives Tihun's submersible slowly navigated the flooded corridors of the archives. These vast and labyrinthine tunnels had never been friendly to outsiders: even the onu-matoran regularly got lost in its twists and turns. Each new stretch of hallway revealed new doors to open; some revealed drowned offices, while others opened to warehouses of exhibits. Rahi posed mid-snarl in stasis tubes, their life functions slowed to a fraction of their usual speed. For every one intact stasis tube, ten others were shattered. Some of those rahi were still here: their corpses lay strewn about the floor, drifting occasional with the movement of the water. Some of them were half-eaten, suggesting the presence of aquatic predators lurking in the darkness. But for every ten shattered stasis tubes, only one or two dead rahi were present. That suggested that many of the tubes had broken during the initial impact, and their contents had escaped before the archives had begun to flood. Perhaps they had eventually succumbed to the rising waters, or perhaps they had escaped to the relative safety of the higher levels. Of course, these scenes of broken glass and animalistic brutality were only revealed to Tihun by the light of the Hydruka's headlamps. The archives had long since gone absolutely dark: even the emergency lighting had run out of power by now. He could only see whatever he was looking directly at: everything else was hidden in the pitch-black shadows. He moved slowly through the water, starting at every shadow and unexpected silhouette. The bubbles of venting gas were the only noise he could hear. Everything else was silent as a tomb. After a long time (exactly how long was difficult to say, for time seemed hardly to exist in these drowned halls), this particular stretch of tunnel came to an end. Up until this point, Tihun had wisely chosen to explore only one corridor, only leaving it to explore side rooms, and returning when he had finished. He knew better than to wander off down side tunnels. If he did that, he would surely get lost. No potential treasure was worth wandering aimlessly through the sublevels until his air ran out. As long as he stayed in this tunnel, he knew the way out. But now a choice lay before him. The Hydruka's headlamps illuminated a T-shaped junction in the tunnel, with his tunnel meeting a new one in a perpendicular fashion. The new tunnel stretched out to the left and right, and in the dim light they appeared identical. On the far wall of the tunnel, a signpost read: sᴜʙ-ʟᴇᴠᴇʟ sᴇᴠᴇɴ (400ʙ) <--- sᴛᴀsɪs ᴛᴜʙᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴀɪʀ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴇʀ (1.2ᴋ) <--- ɴᴀʜᴏ ɪɴsᴛɪᴛᴜᴛᴇ ᴏғ ᴍᴀʀɪɴᴇ ʀᴇsᴇᴀʀᴄʜ (1.8ᴋ) ---> ʀᴇsᴛʀᴏᴏᴍs (100ʙ) ---> IC: Reliable Narrator | Kumu Peninsula No one answered Viltia's call. Her words echoed off the bare stone of the amphitheater, growing louder until they were swallowed by the mists beyond. IC: Reliable Narrator | Icarax's Temple The darkness of the hallway swallowed Whira and Cravious, but only for a moment. They emerged into another room lit by a single window high on the wall. The shaft of dim, gray light fell upon another suit of armor standing before them. Or, rather kneeling before them. The armor was cast of a dark metal in a form that resembled a toa, and it was done quite tastefully and well. One could trace out the ridges of muscle and the outlines of pistons that would be seen on a real specimen; it was almost lifelike. The helmet's eyes were empty. The armor knelt upon the stone floor, neck bent and head down, and arms stretched out before it. Its hands were half sunk in the stone floor as if scooping water from a pond. But there was no pond: the floor was solid stone, and the statue's hands dipped into it like they had been carved out of it. The rest of the room was nondescript: more rough stone traced with bits of ivy and moss. The black rahkshi had followed them through the corridor: it stood behind them now, and the dark, dusty voice of Icarax spoke from the rahkshi and from all around them: "You seek energized protodermis, sister. That is not so easily obtained, even in these latter days. For what purpose do you seek this prize?" IC: Reliable Narrator | The Coliseum Aurax directed his ACR's AI to study the papers brought from the relic fields. A cursory glance provided no useful information: the papers appeared to consist entirely of typical ko-matoran astrological psychobabble. The stars they described didn't even seem to match the stars that had existed over Metru-Nui at the time of its fall. Of course, it couldn't be sure without a visit to the knowledge towers, where it could plug into the vast database of astronomical records; or without consulting a real astronomer who might be able to decipher it. But from what the AI could gather, it was more or less useless.
  9. OOC: Mood music. IC: Reliable Narrator | The Wastes, West of Kini-Nui Nektann moved south. The winds of his grief howled around him, and his tears lashed the sands in sheets of blinding rain. Dark storm clouds encircled him, veiling his gargantuan body until he was little more than a silhouette. Each footstep he left became a new pond or lake, and each swipe of his massive tail left heaps of rubble where hills had once stood. The devastation in his wake was testament to his terrifying power—he was a force of nature and left his mark on the land without even trying. Thick clouds blanketed the sky, hiding the late-afternoon sun and swathing the land in an eerie twilight that grew ever darker and deeper as he proceeded. The valley of the Kini-Nui was shadowed by these dark clouds, although they still held back the main force of their deluge. The tahtorak's influence did not yet extend far enough to unleash the rains; he was still too far away. But the clouds were full to bursting, and occasional fat drops of rain spilled over and fell to the ground, spattering the dirt. The villagers of Kini-Koro began to clean up whatever they were doing. Market stalls were folded up; the displayed wares were covered in tarps or moved inside. A crew halfway through the construction of a new building gathered their tools and made notes on where they left off. Some moved quicker than others, heeding Vuliai's warning of the approaching storm. Others worked leisurely, thinking they still had a few minutes before the rain began in earnest. Then the tahtorak roared again, and everyone knew immediately that this was no ordinary storm. The villagers began to panic. The cry of loss echoed over the landscape like the tolling of a vast and terrible bell. His voice contained the sound of tumbling rocks, of crashing waves, of earsplitting thunder. The roar passed over the valley and across the island, shaking leaves from their branches and causing the mountains to shiver down to their very roots: lost forever gone gone gone He did not see Sidra. She was too small, and his grief was too big. He was lost in a storm of his own emotions, a storm made terrifyingly physical. A question burned in his chest, but he had forgotten most of the language he had once known. He did not remember how to even ask the question, let alone answer it. His blood boiled in frustration, and he kicked at the ground in a pointless display of anger. His tantrum caused a small earthquake that set the ground quivering. These vibrations travelled through the earth, passing under the valley and up the little hill to where the Kini-Nui stood. Nuju felt the ground tremble, phantasm though he was. And the Kaita felt it too. A fork of lightning lashed across the sky. Six by six, each set of eyes blinked to life. Servos began to whine. Gears whirred. Pistons primed to fire, and blood-like oil pumped through tubes that fed each muscle and tendon. Unless their pilots restrained them, they would stand and take the fight to their adversary. Their destined foe was at hand. Another cycle of their eternal conflict was about to begin. IC: Reliable Narrator | Icarax's Temple "Whira..." Icarax said thoughtfully. "I know that name." The rahkshi seemed to study them carefully. The deliberate movements of its cruel eyes betrayed the dark intelligence that puppeted its form. Then it blinked sideways, like a lizard. "You have become more than you were," it said in that dry and dusty voice. "And yet, still you walk at the fringes of the narrative, staying out of the light." The terrifying creature stepped to the side, revealing the empty doorway beyond. "We will speak further in my private chamber," it said. "Come, sister. Bring your servant." Behind them, the other rahkshi stood in their doorways like sentinels. All but one. It slipped back into the shadows as if answering a silent summons, and vanished. IC: Reliable Narrator | Kumu Peninsula Viltia pressed a paw to the door. As she did, the world suddenly seemed to spin around her, like she stood at the center of a whirlwind. The door changed too, although she hadn't seen it change. It hadn't become different: it simply was different. It was smaller and thinner, and no longer attached to the crumbling remains of a hillside temple. Now it stood freely, rising from the ground like a chipped tooth. Looking around, Viltia realized her surroundings had somehow changed too. Her footprints leading up to the door were no longer printed in sandy earth: they were muddy prints that trailed across a stone courtyard. There was no hill, and no dilapidated temple either. The courtyard stood at the center of an amphitheater-like structure that could fit maybe a hundred people, and was about thirty feet across. The empty stone seats of the theater had not seen an audience for a long time: parts of the black structure were half-crumbled while others had crumbled completely into ruin. Nevertheless, she had an eerie feeling that she was being watched by invisible spectators. Looking back at the door, she saw it was no longer mere obsidian beneath her paw. A symbol now glowed dully upon the black surface: an ellipsis with a line through it. IC: Tuyet | Metru-Nui "Great question, toots," Tuyet replied carelessly. "A real ship of Theseus kinda mind-scratcher. If you figure it out, let me know." Her eyes brightened as she saw the airship matching Aurax's description parked on a hastily-erected landing platform across the street. She jogged up the set of metal steps, each one clanging under her feet. Water rippled below them; if Exuze looked carefully, he would swear he could almost see the relentless tide advancing, swallowing the city inch by inch. IC: Oreius | Kini-Koro Oreius looked up at the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of his airship. He'd told it to maintain position before being sucked away into Stannis's shadow; he wondered if the command had been interpreted as maintain position relative to the island or to the tahtorak. IC: Taja | The Desert Taking a deep breath, Taja summoned a disk of shadow in her hand. Her stomach quivered uneasily, but she forced back the fear. This was just like disk surfing back home. Exactly the same. Just... with a disk that could evaporate at any second, and an expanse of water in which literally anything could be swimming, just waiting for a snack. She pushed back the doubts. This was going to work. Turning away from the water, she threw the disk. Her practiced hand sent it sailing through the air, then he clenched her hand into a fist and stopped it about fifty yards away. It hovered there, awaiting her command. She turned and started running toward the water, each footstep sending up a spray of send. As she approached the lapping water, she mentally summoned the disk. It came speeding back through the air, faster and faster. She could sense it approaching, a disk-shaped blot of darkness in the afternoon light. She counted down as it approached, and as she approached the water. Three. Two. One— She jumped out over the water. The disk swept beneath her feet, and she landed on it in a textbook disk-surfing stance: knees bent, elbows up. The disk rippled beneath her feet, but remained solid. With a silent command, she directed the projectile to maintain its speed over the water. This was better than disk surfing—it was like flying. She soared over the rippling waves that sparkled in the fading light, the wind whipping by her mask, and couldn't resist letting out a whoop of excitement as she quickly approached the far shore.
  10. IC: Kas | The Great Telescope "Hey, took you guys long enough," came a voice. "I've been waiting for what feels like months..." A familiar toa of fire rounded a stone outcropping, carrying a jagged piece of pipe on which a freshly roasted crab was impaled and steaming. "Got hungry, so I rustled up some dinner. Any chance you found my mask—" Then Kas caught sight of the titan who stood near the Matoran. He dropped his dinner with a yelp of surprise and raised a hand. A yellow-blue fireball smoked to life in his palm, ready to throw. "What's this... thing? It with you?" IC: Reliable Narrator | Suva of Water Brandishing her handful of glowing algae, Drokk stepped out of the water and, dripping, approached the walls of the grotto. She walked on the muddy, sandy ground, stepping over the footprints left by whoever had come here before her. The footprints, walking clockwise around the room, were not fresh: they were dried into the mud. Who knew how long it had been since they were made? For all she knew, the elderly skakdi might have been the first to step foot here in years. A closer inspection of the grotto's walls revealed three separate carvings, each spaced equidistantly from the others around the circular cave. The carving to the left of the grotto's entrance depicted a wizened being (a turaga) holding four disks. Three of the disks appeared to be in the process of merging together to produce the fourth disk, which was emblazoned with an unfamiliar symbol. The second carving, which lay directly opposite from the entrance to the grotto, depicted a diminutive being (a matoran) wearing a strange kanohi mask. From the nose down, it was a strikingly plain mask. But the top half had a disk-shaped protuberance incorporated into its forehead, like a circular tumor. This disk was engraved with another symbol. To the right of the entrance was the third and final carving, which depicted a taller, more muscular being (a toa) holding two disks, one in each hand. The two disks were identical, each bearing the same symbol.
  11. IC: Reliable Narrator | Relic Fields Niidak made her escape as the untethered continued to ponderously climb the stairs. She probably had a few minutes before it made it to the room, and another few minutes before it figured out where she had gone. Outside, evening had turned into night, and only a hint of sunlight remained on the western horizon. The stars were beginning to appear in force, providing enough light for her to make her way back to her hoverbike should she so choose. however, there wasn't enough light to see any more untethered, if there were any. IC: Reliable Narrator | Suva of Ice Safe within his field of silence, Sorilax investigated the icy walls and frosted surfaces of the ice suva in search of a taboo. Clad in the form of a rahkshi, he stalked around each of the twelve pillars, scanning each carefully in turn. He saw several ancient symbols—some writing even he could not decipher, and some graven images of scenes long lost to time. Here and there, he came across an arcane symbol that made his heart leap in excitement, but closer inspection revealed each to be nothing more than an ordinary glyph with no power of its own. He ascended to the second floor. Even as the ever-patient aspect found his patience dwindling (perhaps there was no taboo here? perhaps there was nothing more to be found?), he saw it. Engraved into the center of the time clock, masquerading as part of the clock face's intricate design, was a symbol: four diamonds with a circle drawn between their center points. Pressing the rahkshi's clawed hand to the symbol, Sorilax felt a rush of knowledge cascade through his mind, accompanied by the now-familiar sense of vertigo. He felt himself simultaneously expand and shrink until his mind seemed to contain the universe while his body was smaller than a grain of sand. A flood of images and sensations filled his mind, staggering in their number and practically unintelligible in their intensity. He caught flashes of light and heard fragments of words. Then he snapped back into himself and the knowledge became clear and cold as ice. The fragmented sounds rearranged themselves, scuttling like insects into words and lines, and a great soundless voice seemed to inscribe them directly into his brain: Goodbye Mighty warrior Cleaver of skies Meek gardener Tender of lies Hello OOC: Sorilax has learned the Rites of Gluttonous Desecration. You may add the following power to his profile: IC: Reliable Narrator | Kumu Peninsula Viltia wandered, for that is truly the only word for it. The mists of the peninsula made actual searching difficult to do: everything looked the same, and the barren rocks and scraggly plants served for poor landmarks. Half the time, she was unsure if she had already seen that particular boulder before, or if all the boulders looked the same. But she wasn't afraid. She wandered with her eyes open and a mind full of curiosity. Eventually, she saw something different. The landscape seemed to change imperceptibly, although the craggy hills and rocks and cliffs and plants and pools of stagnant water themselves did not change. Nevertheless, she felt something different in the air. Grit and sand cracked under her feet as she walked slowly, looking around. Then she saw it: the nearby hillside, whose rocky face she had seen nothing in from a distance, had something carved into it. The broken rock and scattered stones appeared random at first, she now that she was closer she could see the hill contained the remains of a temple. The two misshapen boulders before it were the wizened remains of pillars. A pile of rocks overgrown with algae had once been a cairn. Looking closely, she saw the faintest traces of old carvings and etchings underneath jagged ledges and shelves of rock. And in the center: an obsidian door. At first glance, it didn't appear to be any different from the rest of the crumbled remains of the temple. But if Viltia looked closer, she would see that it appeared it to be less weathered than its surroundings. It was carved of a different stone than those protruding from the rocky hillside. And if she approached, she would almost feel the power that it contained. Something dark and powerful lay within. IC: Tuyet | The Coliseum Tuyet emerged into the dim light of the half-sunken city and continued to make her way towards the location of the airship Aurax had provided. Exuze noticed that she walked without hesitation or second-guessing. She obviously knew this city well, even though it was partially destroyed and only getting worse by the day. The Coliseum rose from a city that was now mostly submerged. Along the walls of the great metal skull, one could see the lights of a new metru that had been erected to replace the drowned districts.
  12. IC: Reliable Narrator | Relic Fields The untethered shambled slowly up the stairs, eying each step carefully before it moved. It moaned again. The sound traveled up the stairs and into the office. Niidak realized it was getting closer. IC: Reliable Narrator | Suva of Water Holding up a handful of glowing algae, Drokk moved into the water. The pool quickly grew deeper as she approached the dome-like structure that sat in the center of the grotto, the seawater lapping gently against its surface. By the time she got close enough to reach out and touch it, the water was lapping at her chin. As she touched it, the elderly skakdi realized the suva actually floated in the water. It was not a dome, but a giant metallic sphere that rose and fell with the tide. It was too big and heavy to actually move anywhere, but it could be rotated with a little effort. One side of the suva was covered in the bioluminescent algae, while the other was bare. This made it appear to have a light and a dark side, although the metal underneath the glowing plant life appeared identical. IC: Reliable Narrator | Cliffside Temple Whira and Cravious looked more closely at the suit of armor, but it produced no further movements or signs. Cravious's query did not receive a reply. A long moment passed. Perhaps they were just going mad? Should either of them turn away from the suit of armor to look up at the room again, they would see they were not alone. Each darkened doorway that went forth from the room like the spoke of a wheel was now filled by a rahkshi. There were six of them, one for each doorway. They watched the intruders silently. Their armor was sleek and shiny, and each creature bore a different color to mark its particular power. Their spines, too, differed according to their type, as did their staves. But all had in common a menacing aura. Their cold eyes and cruel claws suggested the brutality of which they were capable. That they had not immediately attacked was proof enough that they did the bidding of their master—left to their own devices, rahkshi are fiercely territorial, and will slaughter anything that enter their domain. But these six did not attack. They stood quietly, as if waiting for a sign. Then one took a single step forward from its doorway. Its armor was black as pitch, and its silver spines were covered with jagged bumps. The room seemed to grow colder and emptier as it moved inside, as if it drank energy from the very air. It planted its staff on the ground with a thud that filled the room, and it spoke. "Welcome," it said. It did not speak in the hissing cry of a rahkshi. It spoke with a deep, dry voice, like the voice of an empty well. "It has been a long time since guests were received in the halls of Icarax." IC: Reliable Narrator Nektann wanders, adrift in an ocean of grief. He does not know why he mourns. He does not remember what he has lost. All he knows is that he has lost something. Something precious and gone forever, like the flame of an extinguished candle. Loss is all he knows, and he cannot escape it. It surrounds him and follows him and dwells within him. It is a void that cannot be filled. Where do dead things go? Is it the same place we go when we fall asleep? He does not have the words to ask these questions, but the questions themselves exist in his spirit, gnawing at the edges of his brain. They taunt him. A sudden burst of fury causes the surrounding rains to intensify, and he stomps a nearby hill into rubble. The violence is cathartic, but it does not answer his questions. The storm grows stronger as he continues southward. Where are the trees? The earth is brown and dead. He opens his mouth to weep, but can only bellow. His mournful cry echoes over the island like the sounding of a vast horn. Unbidden, a fragment of a memory from another life drifts through his mind. Sun-dappled leaves. A cool wind in his face. The smell of roses. lost gone for ev er ... The sky darkens over Kini-Nui. The clouds threaten rain.
  13. IC: Reliable Narrator | Relic Fields Using the seismic pickaxe, Niidak easily cut through the door's lock in a shower of sparks. A shower of sparks that, coincidentally, lit up the inside of the room to be seen easily by anyone outside. The wandering untethered look up, its undead eyes fixating on the brief burst of light. With a low moan, it began shuffling back towards the tower, searching for a way in. Niidak was too busy opening the door to notice. The door swung open to reveal a rather tidy office, especially in comparison to the messy desks and tables in the bigger office behind her. There was a trim little bookshelf was stuffed with thick tomes, and a filing cabinet containing —if she opened it to investigate— thousands of papers meticulously catalogued and categorized, and cross-indexed. There was a desk and a chair, both a little dusty but otherwise well-cared for. A pile of neatly stacked papers sat on the desk, along with an i-Stone, which appeared to be in pristine condition aside from a long crack gracing its screen. The chair was empty save for a faded blue cushion with a pattern of yellow flowers. IC: Reliable Narrator | Cliffside Temple Cravious bent down to polish one of the armor's kneecaps. When he looked back up, the helmet, which had been looking off towards one of the walls of the room, was now staring straight at him. Whira moved cautiously over to the hallway she'd chosen, but when she looked back, she realized the armor was facing a different direction. Neither of them had seen or heard it move. Had it really been looking in the other direction this entire time? Maybe it was just their minds playing tricks on them...
  14. IC: Reliable Narrator | Suva of Water Drokk descended. Out of the sun, back into the interior of the tower, then further down. The rotting wooden steps creaked and groaned under her weight, but held firm. The earthen walls were slick with moisture and algae. Then she came to the bottom of the spiraling staircase and entered a grotto beneath the island. There was space enough for about fifty matoran to sit in prayer on the sand, which circled around a pool of ocean water in the center of the cavern. The grotto was lit by bioluminescent algae that floated gently in the water, and in the center of the pool rested a circular suva. One side of the suva was encrusted more than the other with glowing algae, which made the shrine appear to have a light and a dark side. The seawater gently lapped against its surface, and lapped on the sand a bio or so from Drokk's feet. If she looked around, she would see the rocky walls of the cavern were draped in mosses and crusted with barnacles. Here and there, a little crab scuttled over the rocks. But between the flora and fauna, she could make out what looked like carvings on the walls. IC: Reliable Narrator | Cliffside Temple Whira and Cravious walked further into the dark hallway. The shadows quickly became thick enough that seeing was difficult even for Whira; this darkness seemed almost alive. Wherever the two looked, it was there the shadows seemed darkest, like they were actively trying to impair their sight. They saw movement out of the corners of their eyes, but nothing was there if they turned to look. It felt like someone was watching them, though no signs of life could be sensed nearby. Should Whira try to command the shadows, she would find they resisted her. It was like trying to tell a dog to sit when it didn't belong to you. These shades served a different master. The hallway turned into a spiraling stone staircase that ascended steeply. This time it truly ascended, and did not merely return them to where they had been before. They found themselves emerging in the center of a more open space. It was a wide, circular room, with multiple exits going forth from them like the spokes of a wheel from its hub, the hallways beyond utterly dark. The room itself was cluttered with the remains of things that had long since lost the battle against the ravages of time. Piles of mossy wood where once had stood tables. Bits of glass and metal that had once been arcane instruments. Rotted stacks of books whose pages disintegrated with only a glance. The air smelled of dust and decay. A single beam of gray light came through the single window, falling upon an empty suit of armor that reclined upon a stone chair nearby. The armor was old; the metal was half-eaten with rust and draped in all manner of lichens, mosses, and ivy. Plant life crept up the chair and twisted through the armor's gaps and crevices. Whoever owned this set of armor had clearly not donned it in a hundred years or more.
  15. IC: Reliable Narrator | Suva of Water Drokk stepped up onto the second floor of the abandoned watchtower. The parapets were half-fallen down, and the floor underfoot was sun-bleached and sandy. If she looked out to the northwest, she could just make out the mask of water breathing carved into the cliffside, the falling water glimmering in the afternoon light. If she looked southwest, she could see the place where the Riggers' home base had once stood. Now it was little more than a heap of driftwood; the aftermath of Nektann's passage. IC: Administrator | Ruins of Air "My protocols are interested exclusively in the protection and maintenance of these temples," the Administrator replied crisply. "I cannot control what happens outside, though Builders know I've tried. Of course, I don't want any heretic to possess more power, but I cannot stop it from happening. Nor can I barter with the god of nightmares on your behalf. What I can do is learn their rites, the better to defend myself against them should any come knocking." The temple was silent for a moment. A lizard skittered across the floor and gobbled up a bug. The Administrator had no clear idea of how to achieve the learning of taboos, for it was a dark art of the heretics and, naturally, unknown. Its first hint had proven unhelpful. But it scanned its databanks and came up with another idea: "If the remaker drives too high a price, then perhaps you will find more luck in the southern isles. It was there the Builders hid the darkest and most perilous magics, the better to isolate them and keep them from contaminating the rest of the world. I have never visited myself, so I can make no promises as to what you will find there. But if you are absolutely out of ideas, then perhaps it's worth a shot." IC: Tuyet | The Coliseum Tuyet walked the halls of the Coliseum like she knew them by heart. She didn't wait for Exuze; either she was confident he could keep up, or she didn't really care if she left him behind. IC: Tuakana | The Great Telescope I seek many things, the titanic aspect replied. The disks you spoke of. And a new form. To wield greater power. They were silent for a moment. They gathered their thoughts. Then they gestured to their body. This mind cannot wield the power necessary. It is not strong enough. IC: Oreius | The Ambling Alp Oreius glowered at the Aspect. He knew very well he was helpless to thwart Stannis's will. Had they really been brothers once? Now he was nothing but a slave.
  16. IC: Reliable Narrator | Stone Suva The Administrator's anger had no effect upon Sorilax—although a nearby lizard blinked slowly in astonishment at the intensity of the tirade. Within the bubble of silence, all was calm. The Rahkshi pressed its claw to the six-pointed star. Instantly, Sorilax felt his mind compress to a single point within a vast universe of stars. He was only a mote of light in a sea of lights; he was one dream among many dreamed by a single sleeper. Then, in a rush of gravity, heat, and light, he felt himself return to the Rahkshi's body. Knowledge passed through his mind like a storm. He saw twisted shapes whose meanings he could not discern. He heard voices cry out in meaningless languages, shouting words of victory or loss. He felt the cold needles of rain on his back and the blast of a furnace's heat on his face. Over all these sensations, he heard the thunderous words of a Taboo spoken without a voice and heard without ears.: Goodbye One by one you all will fall Your past and future all will dance In this moment you will stall As we stare you lose your chance Hello The shapes became clear. The words gained new meaning. In a moment of perfect clarity, Sorilax discerned the knowledge he had been given, and his mental understanding was reflected by the physical branding of the Taboo's symbol somewhere on his body OOC: @Kal the Guardian Congratulation on learning the Rites of Repose! You may add the following power to Sorilax's profile:
  17. IC: Administrator | Ruins of Air "Welcome back, Viltia of Le-Metru Nuva," the Administrator said in a voice that sounded like it was smiling. "Unfortunately, my protocols regarding this knowledge are quite clear! My task is to guard these sacred places, not to barter with heretics. If you are not willing to pay Irnakk's price, then perhaps you do not truly want it enough." IC: Administrator | Stone Suva Sorliax reached out to touch the Taboo when an angry voice startled him: "You! Heretic! What are you doing?" IC: Tuyet | Throne Room "Brilliant," Tuyet said. "Thanks, Spooks. Maybe you're not the worst after all. I'll feel bad when you're assassinated later. I mean... earlier?" She shook her head. "Whatever. Might not even happen! Toodles!" She walked out of the room at a brisk pace, the stones in her armor glimmering in the dim light. IC: Tuakana, Axxon | Great Telescope They gently took the sword from their sister's hand. It chilled them. Their essence retreated at the sight. It gleamed in the sunlight. Each ray refracted through the crystalline blade, lighting it from within. If one listened carefully, the crystal seemed to be singing in the light. A high-pitched tone chimed at the edge of consciousness whenever it moved. They swung it slowly. Carefully. Testing the weight. Hating its song. They knew without knowing that is was dangerous to their kind. Axxon recognized the sword, and marveled that it looked as polished and sharp as the day it was forged. Time had not dulled its edge nor softened its shine. Here, they said mentally. They pulled an old sword from its place at their belt. They handed it to their younger sibling. They had come across it in the desert. It was more rust than iron, and bits flaked away as it changed hands. But it would be enough to exchange for her sword of flames. Retrieve your weapon, little one. The world is not safe. IC: Oreius | Kini-Nui Oreius watched and listened. He sympathized with Knichou. Every second Aurax sat on the throne of Metru Nui was an affront to his spirit. But he knew Vulimai's argument all too well. Could he really sacrifice the lives of his people on the altar of his righteousness? Once, he might have said yes. But now? It was hard to say. As for Sidra: he didn't know her. But he liked her. She seemed to have her head on the right way. He saw Whisper wander away. He didn't care. IC: Taja | The Desert...? Taja stood on the shore and tapped a foot, arms crossed. She was bewildered. She stood on a peninsula that stretched out into the waters of a bay she didn't recognize. Last time she had traveled this way with Whisper, the desert had slowly changed into the swamps, one step at a time. But now the two were starkly divided. She stood on sandy ground, and across the channel, she could make out the green shapes of trees. The island was evolving before her very eyes, and she didn't like it. She didn't relish the idea of swimming across (even if she was a good swimmer, who knew what horrors these waters contained), and the other options were to build a boat, or start walking east or west and see if a land bridge appeared. She looked around. The desert was, well, a desert. Nothing much in the way of building materials. That left... She frowned at the thought. She'd practiced disk surfing on disks made of shadow, but she had lacked the concentration thus far to stay airborne for longer than a few seconds. Maybe conjuring a raft of shadows would work better? She doubted it. If a storm came up halfway across, she was dead. The quicker she crossed, the better. "Huh," she said. This would take some thinking.
  18. IC: Tuyet | Throne Room "Cool. No problem," Tuyet said, snapping her fingers. "I'll get right on it right after I finish, you know, saving the world." IC: Reliable Narrator | Mysterious Temple, Kumu Peninsula Whira cautiously began to ascend the spiraling staircase. The stairs were steep and worn smooth by the passage of time. There was no handrail, or anything else to aid in her ascent. As she turned the corner, she saw the steps led up to another hallway. She stepped up, only to come face to face with Cravious, who had been about to start descending.
  19. IC: Reliable Narrator | Suva of Water Drokk looked up at the watchtower. It stood alone on an island populated otherwise only by scraggly trees and crabs. It had once been two stories tall, but it was now falling apart. Its walls were bleached by the sun. Its stones were worn smooth by the wind. Parts of it had fallen down, letting sand and water in. Plants bloomed out of every nook and cranny, mosses and lichens having reclaimed this piece of civilization long ago. If she stepped inside, she would see a circular room full of sand and puddles of salty water. What had once been furniture was now driftwood scattered here and there. A staircase led up to what remained of the second floor, and also led down. The stairs were little more than packed earth and rotting floorboards, but they looked sturdy enough to hold her weight. IC: Tuyet | Throne Room "Go ahead and stop me, then, big guy," Tuyet said to Xaril, beckoning with both hands in a come at me kind of way. "But first, let me know where your mom lives. I'll leave pieces of your corpse in her mailbox in, like, ten different timelines." The two beings faced each other, neither blinking. Then Aurax broke the silence, and Tuyet jerked her head in acknowledgement. "Sure thing, Spooks. Like what?" IC: Spiriah | Spiriah's Labyrinth "No." Spiriah's voice was hard. Perhaps this final insult had pushed his patience past his limit. "Not conceding, you little figment of imagination. Ascending." The Mesi serving as Spiriah's voicebox suddenly crumpled to the ground. The shadows, gathered and coiled in preparation, flung themselves at Arkius with deadly intent. A dozen spears of darkness lanced through the air from every direction. Silent as nightfall and sharp as knives, their wielder directed them to skewer the presumptuous toa from every angle. IC: Reliable Narrator | Kumu Peninsula Dark clouds hung heavy in the sky as Whira and Cravious ascended their shadowy stairs. The tower loomed above them. It was difficult to tell where the cliff ended and the building began: the temple was built directly into the cliff, and its spires seemed to emerge naturally out of the rocky face as if formed naturally over million of years. Its edges were crude and its windows were few, but what it lacked in beauty it made up for in menace. It was a cold, cruel place. Yet it was not entirely lifeless. As the pair approached the entrance to the main tower, which gaped open like a mouth, they saw lichens and mosses clinging to the rocky walls and peeking out of its crevices. Strands of ivy laddered the rough-hewn sides of the structure, and algae grew out of the cracks between its stones. Water dripped down its surface, forming miniscule streams that trickled down the mist-wreathed cliffside to the ground far below. As the pair passed under the shadow of the doorway, they felt a sense of unease come creeping over them. Even Whira, who was unaccustomed to fear, was surprised to find that she felt a slight sense of trepidation as she crossed the threshold and stepped into the temple. The interior was as dark and cold as the inside of a tomb. Even though the open door stood behind them, the scant daylight seemed to immediately become lost in the gloom. Of course, darkness was nothing to an Aspect. Whira examined her surroundings and saw that she and Cravious stood in the entryway to a long, dark hallway. The floor underfoot was rough stone, and the walls were the same. As she took a few tentative steps forward, she saw two doorways ahead: one on her left that contained a set of stairs spiraling downward, and one on her right that revealed a set of stairs spiraling up. The main hallway continued straight ahead into a darkness even her eyes could not pierce. IC: Reliable Narrator | Relic Fields. The emergency kit contained a pack of bandages, a thin blanket, an empty canteen, and a battered-looking flare gun with a single flare. Niidak tried the handle to the closed door, but it was locked. IC: Reliable Narrator | Kini-Nui Kilo climbed up the mech and pulled itself into the front seat of the open cockpit. Its limbs shook with exhaustion: opening the door had taken all the energy it had. Sinking into the silicone of the seat, the Kralhi found it to be much more comfortable than the seat in Atamai's mech, although it was sure the seat had looked exactly the same only a moment ago. The seat had also changed to match Kilo's favorite color. Perhaps the robotic NUVA's tired circuits were crossing. The rest of the cockpit looked nearly identical to the other mech, but Kilo felt a strange sense of kinship that it hadn't felt before. Unbidden, its mind drifted back to the memory of the placcid lake it had envisioned during the NUVA awakening. Its feet rested on the still water, and another pair stood beneath, like a mirror. At the time, the shape had been dark and unrecognizable. But now Kilo knew exactly what it had seen. Without prompting, the cockpit began to close. It slid back into the spine of the ACR between the armored shoulder blades. It sealed with a hiss, and everything was dark for a moment, but it was not a dangerous darkness. It was quiet and calm, like the moment before the sun rises. Glowing circuitry began to light up, illuminating the walls the ceiling, the floor, and even Kilo itself. The machine was waking up. As it awoke, the ACR jostled and shifted, but Kilo didn't need to worry about keeping its balance. A sort of magnetic seatbelt tugged at its body, keeping it fastened to the seat. It was not uncomfortable or restricting. It just felt safe. Kilo raised its hand, feeling around for some kind of control panel, but it was greeted instead by the shrieking noise of tearing metal. It felt the ACR rip free of its metallic bonds, and then it had pushed itself up onto all fours and begun crawling towards the light of the tunnel's entrance. Each step seemed to shake the ground. Kilo found it could not feel worried about the mech's imminent exit, even though it was barely in control: the Kralhi was lost in the machine's excitement, its yearning for freedom. Then everything became light and Kilo realized the ACR now stood tall above the Kini-Nui, looking down on the ground a hundred feet below. This ACR was a machine, and yet it was more—much like Kilo itself. It was alive; it trembled with excitement and battle-lust. The Kralhi could feel the warmth of the sun as it dipped in the sky; it could feel the cool wind as it passed over the mountains, carrying the barely-perceptible salt-smell of the sea. Everything felt new and strange, and yet it also felt familiar, like reuniting with an old friend. The hands that swayed in the air, and played with the tips of the trees did not belong to Kilo, but it could assume control of them with the slightest thought. Its will passed effortlessly over them, almost like it was possessing them. Puffing clouds of steam vented from the mech's mouth, keeping time to Kilo's own internal clock. At some point in the past minute, its powers had fully returned. Its batteries and energy reserves were completely renewed. Not only that, but it felt even stronger. More than NUVA, Kilo felt as strong as three of its kind. And with each passing moment, Kilo felt more comfortable existing in this shared space. It was both pilot and mech; it was simultaneously driver and vehicle. It looked up, and saw Atamai's ACR from a new perspective, and a warm sense of kinship blossomed in its chest. The mech recognized its kin. And as it recognized one of its own, it spoke. It was a voice without gender or breed, and it spoke both in Kilo's mind and through the mouth of the titanic machine: "I am Patiwairutiki, Great Kaita of Prosperity, bound in my casket and shroud. My strength is unmatched, and my purpose is clear as the dawn. My pilot is K1R1 Kilo-M9 NUVA, one blessed in the light of Tren Krom.” A spear appeared in the ACR's hand. It had not been there a moment ago, but now there it was: as cold and solid and real as any weapon could be. Its shaft was illustrated with dozens of etchings of planets and constellations, each unique, and each visible in the night sky should the intrepid astronomer know where to look. The long blade at the tip looked as thin and delicate as a leaf, but it was sharp enough to cut the wind. Kilo felt where the weapon had originated: the suva kaita down in the center of the Kini-Nui. Patiwairutiki had called the weapon up to its hand with only a thought, choosing it from a vast cache of other weapons designed for the slaughter of the great rite-born monsters. The ACR raised a fist to its kin, and Malhukuraia returned the gesture. The two titanic fists connected in the traditional toa salute, sending a boom echoing across the valley that sent the birds scattering from the trees. "I now give myself to my pilot," Patiwairutiki said. Kilo could feel the presence of the kaita even as they submitted to their pilot's will. It raised its six eyes and looked out over the mountains, whose slopes were slowly deepening from gray to blue as the sun sank down towards the western horizon. IC: Reliable Narrator | The Wastes As Barius's life trickled onto his bed and stained the sheets, Nektann raised his head and unleashed a mighty bellow. The Tahtorak's cry split the clouds that surrounded him and shook the mountains down to their very bones. The rain fell harder, washing hills into plains and turning the wastes into a vast, silty swamp. The winds blew harder, tearing rocks from the cliffs and throwing them to the ground. The clouds swirled and thickened until the sky was black as pitch. He turned, and his tail made rubble of a mountain as he turned. He began lumbering south, weeping with rage and loss.
  20. IC: The Rock Rahi | Kumu Peninsula "Everyone has a name," the rock said cheerfully. "But until I learn someone's name, I just call them a potential friend." The fortress towered overhead, as if daring them to scale its cliffs and enter. IC: Tuyet | Throne Room "It's because he doesn't belong here," Tuyet said to Xaril. "He's a kid sitting at the wrong lunch table, and it's messing with the feng shui." "And that's the big question, isn't it, Spooks." Tuyet rolled her eyes at Aurax. "Um, he hitched a ride with me when I was trying to fix a different problem. Lemme tell you, your reality is just full of holes, and they're tearing open as fast as I can fix them. Like, three new paradoxes have probably started unravelling since this conversation started, and my knee just started aching, so a fourth is probably on the way. So, like I said, I should be going." IC: Reliable Narrator | Relic Fields No sounds came from below as Niidak ascended. The staircase eventually opened into a dim room, lit only by a broad window that let in what remained of the daylight. More of the same awaited her: cluttered desks, paper-strewn floors, and astronomy equipment in various stages of disrepair. Only one of the desks was strangely tidy (it probably belonged to a middle manager). If she moved over to the window to look outside, she would see an emergency kit sitting underneath. At the far end of the room, a closed door suggested there were further rooms beyond. IC: Spiriah | Spiriah's Labyrinth "Oh Arkius." The voice was softer and almost benevolent now, like a parent humoring a small child. "You don't understand, do you? "There is no happily ever after, and there is no justice. Not for you. Not for any of us. Did you think a story titled Apocalypse would end with us sipping bula juice on the beach? Fade to black, roll credits, with a post-credits scene to delight the die-hard fans? No. We are the doomed shades of a cancelled universe, a universe our creators couldn't let go. We are all sacrifices on the altars of our various gods. We live only at their whims, until we die or until we are forgotten, set aside to wait for a promised third act in a story that will never see its end." The shadows coiled, ready to strike. "You die here, Arkius. Your story is over. But count yourself lucky that you get a proper ending at all." ... "You are more fortunate than most." IC: Tuakana, Axxon | Great Telescope Yes, came the simple reply. The titan's mouth did not move, but their voice sounded through Mahrika's mind. It is I. This new body was given to me to serve the cause. Now, little one. Where is the sword? IC: Taja | The Desert As the sun began to sink back towards the horizon, Taja opened her eyes. She sat up and stretched, feeling reinvigorated. She made a quick breakfast of water and a handful of dried fruit, then continued her trek southward towards the swamp. The sandy earth sent up little puffs of dust with each step.
  21. IC: Reliable Narrator | Kini-Nui The river of golden protodermis quickly abated. The last few drops dripped from the edge of the tunnel and sank deep into the earth, destined to one day be uncovered by intrepid miners in the form of the purest gemstones. Kilo advanced into the mists of the tunnel, stepping cautiously over grooves in the floor into which the insatiable doors had retreated. The Kralhi's steps splashed in little puddles of golden energized protodermis, and it heard the splashing echo off the back of the tunnel that was still ahead of the, hidden in the mists. Kilo was welcomed by the sound of vents releasing steam, accompanied by the smell of ozone. The mists surrounded, deep and impenetrable. But at last, the dark shape that lay beyond was revealed. A massive ACR rested on its knees. It came into clearer view as the mists dispersed from the tunnels. Kneeling, it was the height of several toa, but Kilo could tell that once standing, it would easily be as tall as the doors through which it had entered. The vast machine was bipedal and of a rather lanky design, with long, strong arms and legs. It was plated with colorful armor. Thick ceramic, glass, and protodermis plating protected the core structure, joined together without any sign of bolts or welding. The craftsmanship was impeccable. This ACR, unlike many, had a head: it looked similar to the head of a maskless toa, save for the six eyes across its brow. Golden protodermis dripped from its open mouth, revealing the source of the stream. Each droplet hit the ground with a plip that echoed back down the tunnel. The mech's hands were large and strong, with thick armor around the exterior of the knuckles. The entire ACR was traced with lines of glowing energy that made the enormous machine appear very much alive. As Kilo approached, it felt a breath of hot air wash over its body, which confirmed the mech's appearance: it was a living machine. Kilo had not heard the sound of venting steam earlier—it was the rhythmic breathing of the mechanical titan. Kilo waited for some sort of sign from the ACR, but it did not move. Upon closer inspection, it realized that the mech was shackled to the ground by metal cuffs around its ankles and wrists. It was imprisoned here in this tunnel, waiting for its pilot. Kilo's eyes were drawn to the cockpit hatch protruding from the ACR's back. It was open and ready to be occupied. It was waiting for its living key. Should Kilo ascend, it would see three seats in the cockpit. Covered in supple, shock-absorbing silicone, they were more or less identical to the seats it recalled seeing in Atamai's mech only moments ago. OOC: @pokemonlover360
  22. @Harvali Ollem approved. @NorikSigma Kantai needs a different physical flaw. Having combat training is not a flaw, even if that particular brand of training isn't particularly useful in this setting. Sanso also needs a different physical flaw. Different parts of his profile appear to contradict each other, saying he is both proficient in combat and not really competent at combat. Prasral approved. I like that his primary weapon uses electricity, but he's also weak to it. Krozen approved. GMs will provide quests if necessary, but also keep in mind that there are several PCs already in-game with the knowledge and skills to forge, craft, and repair equipment. A more organic way to to "level up" your equipment would be to meet up with those characters and go on quests for them in exchange for their help. For example, Viltia (played by Kal the Guardian) is a skilled crafter who lives in the heart of the Fau Swamp. She might be able to help repair some equipment in exchange for someone helping her acquire more Vuata Maca crystals. Knichou (played by Bulik), an ex-Nynrah Ghost, would probably improve your equipment if you promise to help with his plans to thwart Aurax and his army of Vahki. Those are just the two off the top of my head, but it should be enough to get you started. GMs will keep an eye on these interactions and assist when required to make sure enough effort is being put in to justify the reward. tl;dr yes.
  23. IC: Reliable Narrator | Kini-Nui The door's hunger seemed insatiable. As Sidra, Atamai, and Kilo put their strength together, they sensed the void pressing against their minds. It sought to consume everything they could offer, and more. It was an emptiness that demanded filling, no matter the cost. The three beams of energy splashed against the door. The metallic surface shivered and crackled, but continued to drink. All three NUVA began to feel twinges of doubt at the backs of their minds. Would this work? Would it be enough? As before, Sidra and Atamai felt the door nibbling at the edges of their memories. It threatened to consume everything: more than power, it sought to devour their very selves. The three NUVA could not not break the connection if they tried. The door was in control now. They were plugged into it like batteries into a machine, and it was draining them dry. They felt their elemental reserves approaching empty. They had so little energy left to give... But, in their unity, the NUVA prevailed. As the last drops of power left their bodies, leaving them utterly exhausted and empty, they felt the door's hunger abruptly recede. With a loud hiss of venting gas and a high-pitched hum, the door split horizontally and began to open like the jaws of a gargantuan beast, releasing a flood of golden liquid as it did so. The energized protodermis splashed and shone in the sunlight, flowing over bare ground and leaving green grass and plants in its wake. It flowed down the hill towards the lake where the temple of Kini-Nui floated. The door opened, and no one died. The three NUVA had faced their fears and looked the void in the face, unblinking. Their courage satisfied the door's requirement. All three buckled as exhaustion swept through their bodies. Their limbs trembled and their lungs gasped for breath, but the weariness was tempered by the thrill of victory. The doors opened upward and downward until they vanished into the ceiling and the floor, revealing the entrance to a massive tunnel. The golden protodermis continued to trickle slowly out. A soft white mist floated out of the tunnel, obscuring what was within, but the silhouette of a large shape could still be seen. The mist hid its form, but the shape was nearly as tall as the height of the tunnel. It waited inside, unmoving, and the mist did not clear. Anyone who looked upon the silhouette, except Kilo, felt compelled against entering: they could sense whatever waited within was not meant for them. IC: The Rock Rahi | Kumu Peninsula "Yup," the rock said cheerily. "That's it! There's another pool inside that weirdly-shaped cliff. Someone else lives there too, but he's boring." IC: Reliable Narrator | Relic Fields The interior of the tower was dark. Niidak clutched her dagger tightly, heart thumping. She held her breath, the better to listen for the untethered's steps. She thought she heard its soft, keening wail, but wasn't sure if she was just hearing the wind. After a long, tense few minutes, the untethered had not appeared. Perhaps it was safe to go out? IC: Tuyet | Throne Room Tuyet rubbed her temples. "It's like I toldja. This whole universe is an unravelling paradox. It's falling apart at the seams. If I can find Axonn and send him back where he came from, like, I might be able to fix it. But the longer he's out wandering around, the worse it's gonna get." IC: Spiriah | Spiriah's Labyrinth "Oh no, Arkius," Spiriah said. "You had your question. Now it's my turn." The darkness seemd to grow thicker. Arkius could feel it pressing on his eardrums and the soles of his feet. "You brought me two blood-soaked talismans, Arkius. Offered them freely. And for that, I thank you. Now, before I kill you and swallow you whole, I would know one thing: why? Why did you sacrifice yourself to me?"
  24. IC: Reliable Narrator | Kini-Nui The door continued to consume. Atamai felt his elemental reserves beginning to grow low. Kilo felt the same, but also felt like the door was trying to consume more than they could offer alone. They needed more power, or Kilo would inevitably need to give up its life to sate the door's inexhaustible hunger.
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