EmperorWhenua

IC Stannis v. Velox | Uhuraz’ Plane The lightning toa materialized in front of the old wizard like a cat in the night and swung his staff of poison with vicious vigor in a downward arc. The attack came so suddenly that the elder wizard only had the opportunity to react with a clumsy parry that was successful, if only barely. The Rahkshi staff’s venomous end glowed with a point of bright green energy and slid down the protosteel spear’s length and snagged a portion of Stannis’ ragged grey cloak, and the poisonous energy flooded into the cloth like water taking to a sponge. Stannis pushed with his might to shove Velox away and carve some space between them, while Velox did not have the proper footing yet to keep his stance and was successfully rebuffed. Both warriors stumbled backwards a pace, opening the engagement and resetting their positions. Stannis growled as he saw a wispy tendril of bilious smoke seep from his cloak that originating from the tear Velox’s staff had created and regretted his sloppy defense that was sure to now be the end of his timeless garment as it slowly withered and died, but he did not stay in mourning long and refocused against the duelist priest. They re-engaged without a word spoken between them, for what was there to say? They knew nothing about each other except that they were opponents in a grand battlefield of spirits and legends, and diplomacy or lecture had no place between them. They were priests for different gods and false religions fighting wars for their beliefs, and that firmness of principle was what drove them to slay the other. Conversion was not in the cards anymore, it was either do or die. Velox swept his weapon wide which Stannis met directly with the protosteel spear and the impact resulted in a pristine clang! that resonated purely, and Stannis riposted directly, but he was too slow. Velox phased out right as the silver weapon slid through where he was a split second before and reappeared behind the wizard poised to strike. Stannis did not stop and continued his motion to intercept Velox’s attack at the rear with another heavy clank! He took the spear with the other hand as well and wielded it as a quarter staff as he pivoted, and then with the fluidity of a water fountain his spear weaved around Velox’s staff and struck the toa heartily on the thigh with the pommel end, and then Stannis disengaged again. Velox staggered backwards from the heavy blow, somewhat shocked at the power in the impact, and snarled in a berserker fury before charging, only this time Stannis was prepared for the attacks. The polearms became blurs in their hands as they were swung with fury and intensity, one attack swiftly melding into the next, each strike and intercept resounding in a cacophony of percussive music. They were not on the stage, but they fought with the choreography of stage performers. And just when Stannis had gained an edge and was exploiting a gap in defense, Velox’s Hau activated abruptly and stopped a lethal blow in its tracks, so instead he manœvered his weapon’s power in a different direction and caught the Rahkshi staff solidly, snapping it in twain with an explosion of fragments. They disengaged once again and Velox looked at his broken weapon’s halves with astonishment. “Protosteel,” Stannis said with a gasped breath. The wizard realized he was breathing more heavily, an effect of his age now draining his stamina with the absence of his healing factor to sustain him, and while it was clear who was the more practiced and potent combatant between the two the true-toa had enough tricks in his bag to keep him from death and possibly win by attrition. Velox seemed to catch on to the opportunity and coyly sneered at Stannis. “Whatever god you were a priest for is failing you, it seems.” “I serve… no other gods anymore…” Stannis replied. “There is only myself, and the Fates.” “Then you are playing at things beyond your scope, Toa Stannis.” The warmage looked closer at Velox’s chestplate, ornate with gold and inlaid gems, and noticed runic inscriptions upon it that had gone unseen before in the darkness of their chamber. Some sigils were ones Stannis already knew, but a couple others were as-yet unfamiliar. Taboos. He had to get closer to seize them. Velox was not going to provide the opportunity right away, however; with rage he slammed the two halves of his weapon together and unleashed a torrent of lightning at Stannis. Slow to respond yet again, Stannis had not been able to meet the energy attack before his protosteel weapon was swept away by the currents to the floor behind him, and bolts of electricity coursed through his body for the briefest of moments before he punched the air and manifested a hand of stone in front of him. The lightning continued to hammer away at the rock but gained no traction on it as the earthen material grounded the electricity harmlessly away from Stannis and continued to roll its way steadily towards Velox’s position, like a swimmer moving swiftly upstream with powerful strokes. Seeing no other option but to teleport from where he was to behind Stannis for a surprise attack, the Swordbearer priest halted his attack and phased out. However, to his astonishment, he was the one surprised when Stannis was already waiting for him to do exactly as he did. Velox had just barely manifested when Stannis slammed his fist against his throat and shoved him against the wall. He tore the chestplate off with his free hand, revealing the squirming kraata underneath, and tossed it to the side while Velox was held dangling, kicking the air as he gasped desperately for it himself; the Hau was useless in that situation and his teleportation ability was in check so long as he was pinned. “I am not playing, Toa Velox,” he retorted, his voice cool and serene even as his cloak continued to wither away on his back. “And I am no toa, not anymore. You see, while you and your liege have been pining for Order, I was made to quest for something better.” Velox’s eyes flew wide at the realization that he grossly underestimated his quarry. He thought he was fighting an old toa-hero too advanced in years to last any longer before his mind faltered in dementia, a fatal misjudgment of character that ultimately betrayed him. “Goodbye My fickle friend.” “No!” “You breathe and laugh and love, You glowing star.” “N—urgh!” “You shed your light far above, Hello.” And then Stannis’ other hand peeled the kraata of teleportation off of Jural. It squealed in terror before abruptly falling calm as its new master soothed its temperament to a simmer. “I do not serve anymore because I… am the Aspect of Control. Let me… show you.” He held the kraata up by Velox’s face and caressed the terrorized toa-hero’s cheeks with the chittering critter, and watched with impassive, silverine eyes as the once-beautiful Kanohi Hau suddenly grew dark and pitted with rust and tarnish. And then, unceremoniously, Stannis let go. He stepped back and let Velox sag back to the floor. The priest looked utterly deflated and exhaled long and deeply as though releasing all his previous thoughts and worries, and as quick as sin he had been converted from a follower of Uhuraz to a slave of Stannis—no, Caedast. Velox loathed the change of allegiance with all his might but was powerless as he was puppetted to pick up a half of the broken staff from off the floor and then run towards Uhuraz. What was once a high priest had become a suicide runner. And Stannis instead studied the chestplate runes.

IC Uhuraz | His Plane "Huhu," Uhuhuraz said. @Crimson Jester

IC Leklo | Alp, Kumu Leklo landed. "This is where your kind is from?" he said. "Creepy." OOC @Toru Nui @Keeper of Kraata @TL01 NUVA

IC Yumiwak | Panda She needed an answer. She deserved an answer. The truth was... hard. I cast my eyes down to the deck first, then slowly turned them back to Ysocla and met her gaze as the leader I was. In the background, the sailors began the process of liftoff as soon as Ys had gotten on board, all rightfully eager to leave this place entirely. "It wasn't supposed to be them," I said slowly to disguise my broken tone with artificial strength. "I didn't want it to be them. "It was supposed to be Zataka, and all the rest of us would have been able to rally with her and seize this land called Zakaz for the better. We would have taken the Godhead by storm and delivered our people from the shackles of the Matoran by blood or negotiation and brought new life to the island. But when Zataka fell into the lava Irnakk claimed her as his own and severed the bond I had to her. We nearly perished out of fright when she came back as something else entirely and I don't have any idea why she didn't strike me down then. She could have. I probably would have liked that." I sighed and the first signs of tears began to come to my face. It doesn't happen often, or even at all, but sometimes you just have to allow the big sad energy, you know? "In the aftermath there were just the three of us. Korio seemed determined to not let my pilgrimage be in vain and volunteered to throw himself into the volcano instead. I didn't even get the chance to argue him down when Zai challenged him over it. They fought each other, but not over me, they fought each other because they hated each other and I... guess I was just the proxy for their personal feud. Korio melted Zai. Zai turned Korio into a living match. And then they both fell in, dying together as they tore at each other's throats to the end, and Irnakk... I guess he let me keep them in a sick joke. "Oh, Ys... I am so, so sorry. If it had only gone any other way we would all be standing here together still and if I could trade their draconic forms for who they were before I would. The God of Nightmares has taught me one thing above all else: The worst dreams of all are the ones we suffer while awake."

Korruhn tucked his legs to his torso, and took the impact of the landing in his shoulder, rolling forward to dissipate some of the kinetic energy. He followed through to his feet, weaponless and not close enough to his objective. This docent was powerful, indeed. But there was a tinge of desperation to his mannerisms. Korruhn stared back at him, his eyes fixed in a steely gaze. The Toa had not come this far to be halted by these forgotten relics. Korruhn chuckled. “I’m sorry, docent, but there’s only two ways this ends. Either way, I’ll be leaving here. You just get to choose whether you live or not.” "That's Lord Uhuraz to you," he corrected. "Tall words, though, coming from a foot soldier." “And that’s where you’re wrong, Lord,” Korruhn replied, smirking. “I’m not a soldier.” Uhuraz was backing away from korruhn, but not out of fear anymore. "You were before," he said in a measured voice, "and you are now. You always were someone's pawn." And suddenly, at the ancient Aspect's whim, a billowing plume of shadow energy burning red at its core shot from his chest, a power from an ancient taboo none of the visitors had seen before or could anticipate occurring. At the end of the plume was a hand large enough to throw an ARC, and it was winding its way to Korruhn directly. Korruhn’s eyes grew wide at the night of Uhuraz’ power, yet he remained steadfast. Without his mask power, he had to get more creative to escape harm. Letting out a mighty roar, Korruhn focused all of the energy he could muster into his right arm, and directed as much gravitational force as he could muster onto the top of Uhuraz’ shoulders. He braces for impact with the taboo’s power; he wasn’t sure his plan would work. Uhuraz' body buckled under the sudden weight on his shoulders and he fell to one knee to support the onslaught, but his focus was steely as ever and directed the shadow hand's course steadfastly to Korruhn. Not wasting a moment when he saw one, Korruhn released from his gravitational attack on Uhuraz; it wasn't the soundest of plans, what with a shadow hand headed straight toward him. He'd never seen one, and he didn't want to know what it could do. He rolled to his right, trying to out-maneuver the Hand long enough to come up with something. As he completed his roll and came into a crouch, he felt something hit his hip: a small container, the contents sloshing about. Energized Protodermis. Metru Nui's vengeance. He grinned, and tore the container free from his belt, clutching it in his right hand. With the assistance of all of the power he could muster, he threw the canister as hard as he could, directly at the Lord of War. Grime stood in the hallway out. There was no door, and no exit. He grimaced, then broke the glass of the nearest object. "Hey," Grime shouted, "leave my friend alone!" And he threw the Wu Tang vinyl record like a bamboo disk at Uhuraz's face. From his vantage point at one end of the stage Jural witnessed the matoran Grime conduct his looting crime and instantly rebuked him. "Leave the exhibits alone," he commanded, to no avail, and when Grime picked up the priceless, one-of-a-kind vinyl album and threw it at his Lord, Jural focused his Matatu to catch the disk midair and redirect it away from Uhuraz. It clattered to the floor elsewhere, its precious grooves tarnished by the ground but otherwise still intact. "You insolent vermin." Meanwhile, Velox understood the tactics of trading fire with opponents and focused on combatting Whisper singularly. As soon as his barrage of lightning rescinded he activated his Hau—and not an instant too soon it was. The protective bubble around him was alight with red energy that dissipated harmlessly on its shell. And then, without waiting for it to stop, he simply vanished from sight entirely— —and descended from the ceiling aiming his rahkshi staff of poison where Whisper was in whatever form she took, aiming to demolish the Aspect with corrupting power. Whisper’s newfound Staff of Mind Reading once again offered her head-start enough to anticipate and evade the incoming strike. As Velox vanished - and reappeared - the tethers extending from Whisper's merged forms acted like legs, some pulling and some pushing to propel her out of the staff’s path. One of the silvery tendrils then extended and whipped back towards Velox, intent on striking him and imparting all of the power of level two Slow, and level three Stasis and Sleep, on impact. Velox was not an acclaimed fighter against a group, but he was a superior duelist, and at such close range his lightning energy was both unpredictable in its angles and unavoidable in its strikes. He never got the chance to reach Whisper with his weapon, but with his energies… Velox seemed to simply erupt with white-hot streaks of electricity. He would immolate the Aspect where she was. Pain was another new experience for Whisper, albeit a far less enjoyable one. Every nerve ending of her merged forms was aflame, the limited ability of the electric bug offering little protection against the raw power of a Toa. Whisper’s form froze in place as she swiftly turned her Stasis power back on herself, preventing further pain from being inflicted. She remained that way as she waited for Velox’s lightning to abate, and his next move to be made. But it did not come. Just as suddenly as he came, Velox vanished and then reappeared a short distance away to engage Stannis. And in his stead came Jural's methodical offense that cut through Whisper's psionic advantage like a hot knife through butter. Jural was mentally shielded from intrusions as a consequence of his traumatic bond to Aspect Uhuraz and subsequent conditioning, so he slipped as a thief in the night while Velox had kept Whisper preoccupied. He aimed his crossbow and delivered a cryo-imbued bolt from the weapon at Whisper's back from his safe distance before strafing to the side. "You really have changed," he rebuked sardonically. "You've gotten uglier." The bolt struck Whisper’s stasis-fielded form from behind, forming a craggy crust of ice that persisted even after the shield had been released. She switched to Ice Resistance and Laser Vision, melting herself free as she scuttled around to face her new attacker. “Better to be ugly than be as bitter and broken inside as you clearly are,” she snarled, loosing a volley of lasers in his direction. As soon as Whisper dropped her stasis field Jural activated his Matatu on her. First step: Picking her off the ground. Next step: Impaling her on the ARC's sword that nestled on a cradle by the power armor on the other end of the room. He hoped Velox could forgive him for the trespass. Between the gravitic grasp on Uhuraz' shoulder and the narrowing gap between the dark fist and his quarry, the Shadow Hand taboo became harder and harder to control effectively and the vial of liquid that splashed onto the warlord's diminutive form robbed him of his last vestiges of focus though not because of what Korruhn had wanted. The shadow hand collided with the floor right beside Korruhn, seizing a portion of the stage and pulling it out like a gardener grabbing a clump of offending dirt, and began to retract back to Uhuraz. But even though the energized protodermis spilled on Uhuraz' small body and drenched through his armor into his flesh he did not melt, or begin to burn, or even scream in pain. Instead, he looked confused, and elated. What flooded his senses was not agony, but... knowledge. A window in time had opened before his eyes and he could see the whole of Creation everywhere it was. He saw Nixie and Vhisola introduce themselves to a Builder turaga and Onaku die at the hands of the Aspect of Faith. He saw Mahrika and Sorilax enter the Temple of Life and Ostrox peer at The Atramentonicle. He saw Niidak being a boss and Kas be humbled. He knew of Yumiwak's dastardly accomplishment and Zataka's unexpected deal with Irnakk. He saw Irnakk rise from the volcano and rebuke recalcitrant apoligists. He saw Nuju, poor Nuju, try to sell a portal like a freak show act, and he even witnessed Havohk fulfill his quest. He saw Marrow demolish the old wellspring and the two airships being moved like chess pieces. He saw everything that happened wherever it happened, but only through that window in time. "I... see... the world really has gone to Krom," he said, a new, knowing look on his face as he seethed within. The world needed him more than ever to escape his divine shackles and bring the universe to heel before it was too wrecked. The worlds needed Order. He hoped it wasn't too late yet. "Is your plan to depress me to death?" @Crimson Jester @Gecko Greavesy @Unreliable Narrator

Good Guy 6934, but bigger.

IC Yumiwak | Panda, Irnakk's Tooth "Wow, what a Nice day for a bad time." I mentally connected with my kaiju-crew. [Marrow.] [You have done well.] [Follow the dragons. They are mine, as are you.]

IC Jam | Uhuraz' Plane “Oh.” That explained a lot. Whisper had spent her entire brief existence in this cycle trying to find purpose, trying to make sense of what she was and what she was meant to do with her existence… and now she knew. She’d already done it. She’d already been and become everything she was supposed to be. Or close enough to it that her current cycle felt superfluous by comparison. But now that she knew, she wasn’t going to stand idly by and allow herself to be destroyed. And before the eyes of all in the room, Whisper simply vanished, the electric bug, her kraata, and rahkshi staff all tumbling to the ground as her floating shell disappeared in a furtive flicker of silver. Inside the subconscious of the electric bug, Whisper drifted. She’d controlled plenty of insects in her time, but to merge with one like this, to bear witness to its strange perspective and austere thoughts, was a truly humbling experience. She’d been lying when she’d told Viltia that she wanted this taboo so she could experience life, but now that she was experiencing it, she saw the truth in her own attempt at deception. To feel cold stone under her tiny feet, to see the bewildering beauty of the world through compound eyes, to sense vibrations and surfaces around her with the insect’s antennae… it was beyond beautiful. And she wasn’t going to give it up for a few old fools still stuck in the past. Silver tendrils whipped forth from the carapace of the electric bug, tethering to Whisper’s kraata and seizing the fallen staff. The comical clump of colour wriggled on the floor, then turned all six of its pairs of eyes towards the docent to unleash beams of level three laser vision at him. The docent yelped in surprise and jumped back from Whisper's sudden attack at him, but despite his reaction his eyes did not reveal the slightest bit of shock. He knew this was coming—or rather, he expected it. It was only natural he would be targeted right away by Whisper, after all. The docent could smell the ozone in the air as the laser cut through with severe intensity and dove to the floor, but even still the laser followed after him. Just as it almost caught him and sliced the matoran in twain, shards of iron and steel flew to the docent's aid and encrusted him with an armor of metal, deflecting the attacks and shielding him from harm for the moment. Velox struck next, aiming his Rahkshi staff in Whisper's direction and letting loose a volley of electricity. Arc upon arc of bright blue energy that did not care how small or large the Aspect was cascaded upon her. Jural readied his weapon and began to concentrate on Korruhn, intending to employ his kanohi to grab hold of the Void-touched toa. With her Staff of Mind Reading offering her an awareness of Velox's intentions before he'd loosed the first arc of lightning, the amalgamation that was Whisper was ready. A stasis field flickered into place around her merged forms, rendering her immobile but protecting her from harm. Once the bolts stopped coming, she dropped the field and retaliated with another volley of laser beams, this time aimed at Velox. Korruhn knew something was off; or at least he felt it. Or, perhaps, it was not more than the sense of impending doom he got in every temple; for even the emptiest ones were still fraught with danger. Looking now at the two Toa across the auditorium, between the armour suit, prepping to attack Korruhn and co; he realized he preferred temples where everyone was dead. The low light of the room, still illuminated by a solitary central lamp on the "stage", would work greatly to Korruhn's advantage. He could see clear as day through the veil of night. He drew on the power of the darkness around him, imbibing himself with it's energy. Without his Calix, his strategy would have to change. The Void-Touched channeled the dark energy, and forced it from his body in a pulsating burst for two-fold effect: The burst of energy, pure shadow, was utter darkness, temporarily veiling Korruhn's movement, as well as casting forth a damaging wave. Driving his spear into the ground in from of him, Korruhn leapt on the spear, using it's length and rigidity to propel him as close to the stage and the armour as he could get. The docent, for that was all he had revealed himself to be so far, did not have to struggle long after Whisper's attentions were diverted and came to his footing swiftly. His eyes darted around the room with quick shrewdness and assessed the situation in an instant. He could tell that Korruhn the Void-touched toa was up to something--it was inevitable, he was angry, tainted, and eager to test abilities he hadn't had the opportunity to really run through the rigors with. The docent Matoran knew that feeling well; it was one he'd been holding in his heart for a very long time. By the time Korruhn broke through Jural's initial concentration the docent was prepared for something vile and pernicious, and out of uncanny readiness he held his hand up in a saintly gesture and countered Korruhn's black powers with his own. Korruhn's Shadow energies were abruptly swallowed up as if spontaneously sapped by some sponge, leaving him mid-traverse in the air without his cloaking or the destructive wave that all but dissipated at the docent's command. Korruhn's metal spear was affected and clattered to the ground in an intentional fashion, oddly dragging itself rapidly closer to the docent before coming to a stop at the steps. "Not so fast," he said. He looked afraid, but frighteningly intelligent with wide eyes eager for victory and nervous about losing. This was what he had been preparing to have happen. This would be the end of his imprisonment and these paltry sacrifices were the fuel for his self-idolatrous pyre. "You haven't the skill to overcome me, cursed one." Stannis glowered knowingly with a smirk hidden behind his hood as he appreciated the irony of the Builder's greatest kingly Aspect of Makuta being in the guise of the Matoran Takua. "Uhuraz," he muttered to himself and readied his staff for battle. @Gecko Greavesy @Crimson Jester

IC Yumiwak | Panda, Irnakk's Tooth The cremate on the deck of my wondership was growing antsy, I could tell that by the way he fidgeted with his bos'n whistle and glanced at the rigging constantly. He was uncomfortable waiting any longer, worried that Ysocla was not going to make it back before we caught fire or worse. Finally, he spoke up and I was glad he did. "Miss Yumi, engineer Ysocla should have been back by now, the ash storm is getting too—" "No," I cut off the sailor. "Not another word about it. I am aware of the risks in starting grounded. As of right now Ysocla is now the first officer and I will not leave my crew behind. So never say another insinuation of the act again." I left it at that. He waddled off, still anxious but now anxious away from me, and I kept peering through my telescūpe scanning for signs of my engineer's return. [Korio.] [Zai.] [Take your firestorms elsewhere. Find Marrow. And then... ] I looked at the cursed godhead in the distance with contempt and winked. IC Leklo | Alp, Kumu "Well since Waveahk is obviously choosing to ignore my question about the bloody island disappearing," the NUVA said with eyes of icicles at the mutated Steltian, and then suddenly his tone tuned chipper and nonplussed, albeit in an ironic sort of fashion "... I suppose so and the mystery shall continue as we will. " He hopped back into the pilot's seat and punched the throttle. The airship managed the sudden liftoff and acceleration remarkably smoothly, much to everyone's surprise even though they veritably leaped off the ground. "Tell me where to land... Parnassus."

IC Yumiwak | Irnakk's Tooth My ancestors were right to trust me with their knowledge, I thought proudly as I walked back to my ship. Nothing ethereal troubled me on my return to the Panda, I'd already received the boon from my god and there was nothing to fear here. The roars of my dragons filled the heavy and hot air and I walked as quickly as my battered and bruised body could take me in a race against the natural dangers of the volcano as it frothed to another eruption. When I reached the Tactical Panda it was exactly as it was when I left it. Korio and Zai's screeches and rumbles were already loud and everywhere at once around the Tooth's region and ash was falling from the sky as a firestorm brewed from their manifestation and the crew had helpfully stashed the sails for safe keeping—we didn't need them anyway. The bond Korio and Zai had to me was never stronger than now, though, and their hearts beat as mine, and I could feel Marrow was far off near the northern reaches. "Where's Ysocla?" I asked as I boarded. "Ma'am, first engineer Ysocla went to a nearby ruin, I think. Where... is Korio and Zai?" To reply I simply pointed skyward and let the realization creep into their eyes. Nobody said a word about it afterwards, a discussion for a different time. "We wait for Ysocla, then we cast off from this place. I feel I have gotten all I can have here." But at what cost?

IC Stannis & "Docent" | Uhuraz' Plane "Right, so, cool beans. Our story begins as all things do: At birth." The docent pulled the group of four guests down the hallway. On one side of the corridor were the usual trinkets and treasures stored behind invisible barriers and on pedestals just high enough for Grime to look at them closely, and on the other side was the wall that was adorned with a full mural from floor to ceiling that stretched down the whole length of the hall and around the corner. It looked like it was painted by hand and not by professional workers, with a multitude of cartoonish-looking caricatures adorning a background splash of reds and greys. “History belongs to the victors, but people forget the past when they are not reminded. It is my honor, then, to remind you of a past the Builders seem to have forgotten. I could speak for hours on history, but, uh, my voice is tired. So I’ve prepared a PowerPoint presentation for you. Pictures, you know, speak for thousands of words.” The docent forcibly pointed at the wall and it suddenly sprang to three-dimensional life, and the reds and greys blended in a macabre flow that seemed to fall off the wall and drift into the passageway itself, creating scenes of violence and control in the visitor’s very paths. Sigils previously camouflaged in the wall glowed with wicked intensity, recalling the scene from the monolith in the antechamber when it rumbled to motion, and the pictures moved with the fluidity and liveliness of ocean waves contained in a tube. While it was quickly realized to be illusory by a discerning person, the wizard Stannis had been watching the two matoran very closely and noticed that the docent merely gestured at the wall for it to shift in nature entirely—this was no mere illusion, it was magick intrinsic to the docent and the plane. He shelved the thought and helpfully minded Grime not to try any theft of artefacts as well as he could. “In the beginning, people warred without purpose. Chaos reigned as the Builders’ wills contested against each other. Gods were many but far in between, and the great Timekeeper in the sky had not visited to give chronology to existence for an eon. What do children do when left alone? They fall prey to their own devises. Children want structure to feel comfort, and when they are not provided that they wish for it. “And so Uhuraz was conceived from the aether all Aspects are born from. You know this, right? All Aspects come from the… Okay, cool beans, we’ll skip that part. Uhuraz was conceived with one purpose: To provide order where there was none.” The living mural spilled out in a tapestry of military formations and organized civilizations. Streets and causeways were tidy and thriving. Towers and edifices were erected from the ashes of battlefields, pulled into being by rows of slaves of all kinds, all under the watchful gaze of taskmasters holding flails. “And order was crafted from the chaos. But it was not enough. Not everyone complied, and barbarism still existed. Not everyone had heeded the structured calls of the savior their own needs and desires had brought into being. Uhuraz ushered in a new age by moving to bring those dissidents into his burgeoning empire and other Aspects of Makuta seemed to be powerless as he grew in might and prosperity. Other wishes succumbed to his underlying principles of Unity and Order at the cost of all else, and Uhuraz’ greatest drive was to achieve the pinnacle of perfection by manifesting as an everlasting Great Spirit of Order, ensuring that all future generations would forever be in line.” Images of a great and tall warrior welding a whip and a sword came to life, overwhelming every foe he confronted and fighting in the trenches. They were the same armor and sword they’d seen on the throne dais in the auditorium, only this time with all the vivacity and bloodlusting virility of a warforged king. “Uhuraz, you see, was an idol long before he would truly become one. He was a master of both war and peace, a fighter and administrator of the same caliber, and when he led he did it in the front lines. People did not simply hear about Lord Uhuraz, they bore witness to him, either leading their army or helming the attack that would inevitably prevail against them. People who survived swore fealty because they were in awe of him. But, the stories go on to say, the cycle was not yet finished for Uhuraz. “He almost ascended, you see. He almost became a Great Spirit to watch over his children and give existence to Order forevermore. While Chaos and Order are two diametric opposites, one is not the bane of the other. The bane to Order and stoicism, see, is Change.” Stannis did not notice any perceptible indications of judgement from the docent towards Whisper, but there was an edge to his tone when he said the last word, the way a zealous devotee would rebuke anything that contrasted to their god. It reminded the Wanderer of Grime and his connection to Miserix that precluded any other bonds from interfering, and he looked at the dirty matoran more closely out of absentminded curiosity. The taboos and tattoos all over the Builder’s body evoked memories of another being, just as the docent had, only this time he could recall the name exactly: Dume. The wizard’s face was still mostly shrouded by his hood’s cloak, but underneath it went ashen. Should he look back, all Grime would be able to see were those damnably silver eyes boring past his skin and into what was left of his soul. “People wished for Change from Order, and their wish... it delivered what they wanted. At the eleventh hour, an Aspect to champion their desires stopped Uhuraz’ ascension and brought an end to his empire with a final clash between that aspect and Uhuraz in his glory, which left the power armor damaged beyond mortal understandings. When Tren Krom eventually returned it was a future without a Great Spirit of Order, and so the cycles were doomed to repeat without structure." "Uhuraz was recreated, of course, birthed just as he had been before from the mists of desire with the same goals as before, but the people did not pray to him as they had anymore. While powerful enough to craft this haven to receive supplicants he decided to wait until he had the strength to give Order to people again and reclaim all that he had before. The legends on these many walls speak of how Uhuraz will return to the Builders when his armor is refinished. So it waits here for Him to obtain the final piece while we learn from the past.” The docent went on, pulling the visitors through another doorway and then, once again, somehow, they were in the auditorium again, Jural and Velox waiting for them on the stage at opposite sides. "You can imagine the surprise we had when the opportunity to turn the tables of history came and the Aspect of Change comes walk—erm, hovering in, and with it some of the same people who fought in the last war, and the world outside has collapsed to chaos that needs our Lord and Savior to bring it to heel once more. You'll find the tethers you have to your Aspect patrons will do you no good here. We would offer you the chance to surrender," the matoran said, "but that isn't Uhuraz's style. "So die, for Order." OOC | @Gecko Greavesy @Crimson Jester @Unreliable Narrator You can try dialogue, but at this point it's initiative rolling time. Full profiles for Jural and Velox will be updated.

Name: Zai, Kanohi Dragon of Jealousy Breed: Riteborn Kanohi Dragon Faction: Yumiwak’s brood Description: [Image] [Image] The Skakdi who was once called Zai was a tall, skinny, frightening woman with a myriad of spikes on her body and a long scar on her cheek. When she was sacrificed in the name of her princess to the Great Spirit of the Pit, Irnakk the Remaker forged her into a terrifying Kanohi Dragon she carried with her the trademarks of her former life, down to the scar that still adorns her face. Zai as a dragon is over three-hundred feet long, cranelike thin, and taller than any other dragon living with legs that are just long and articulate enough to verge on graceful looking. Her snouted face still bears the hungry grimace of before, and wisps of smoke billow from her nostrils like twin whiskers. Her elongated body, adorned with scales that look like the finest of Kanohi, is patterned with a glossy gradient of shimmering white, blues, greens, and reds, and it ends in a whiplike tail that swooshes with ever shimmer of her rear legs and snaps when she alights herself to the air. Her roar is unique and menacing in its uncharacteristic low tonality. Zai has a saddle at the top of her neck, ready for Yumiwak to use.. but she never does. [Sound] [Sound] Flaws: Zai is fiercely bonded to Yumiwak and is obsessed with pleasing her even in her unlife. Just as she had a rivalry with Korio, she maintains that feud as dragons. While she was unwell before, she is an even more erratic, cruel, and random being now, unabated by moral constraints. Kleptomaniac and desirous to reap all she can for herself to glorify Yumiwak, and what she can’t have she destroys so that none other can have it—and particularly so Korio doesn’t get his grubby paws on it. When caught in the effects of a blizzard or other icy weather a kanohi dragon has significant difficulty flying. Prolonged exposure to these effects inhibits flight altogether. Kanohi Dragons move slowly when walking, and are significantly less agile on the ground than they are in the air. Powers & Abilities: Kaiju-level mastery and control over the elements of Fire and Air. By default, he has complete immunity to air, fire, iron, magnetic, and psionic elemental effects. Hex effect: Upon him entering a hex and until leaving one, a firestorm occurs throughout it. Fires blossom out of control, fireballs rain from the sky, and buffeting winds carry the smoke throughout the hex and make it hard for any character to breathe that is not also a Kanohi Dragon. Airships in the hex experience significant turbulence.

I want that record player.

IC Stannis & "Docent" | Uhuraz' Plane The wizard watched everything with both interest and suspicion. His private realm was exceedingly paltry in comparison to the likes of his kindred, and the exuberance of Uhuhuraz's domain stood as testament to the former warlord's extant powers of mind and force of will, so it was wise to regard the denizens of the place with a healthy amount of caution. His eyes darted left and right, each time wondering where the two toa guardians were, what they were doing, and where the Aspect was. He was certainly not in the power armor, which despite its polished sheen was as functional as a rock. "Come," the docent said, "come with me, and see." The docent, for that was all he claimed to be so far, was a small matoran about Grime's size with a red torso and arms, blue legs, and teal Kanohi. He looked very much like a matoran Stannis knew, though he could not recall the name... Takka, Taku, Takeonme...? He shook head head to rid himself of his thoughts and then focused back on the present. The docent took the group through the door marked by the red signage and then gestured pointedly at the walls. "This plane is a temple, a fortress, and a college, all in honor of one being: Uhuraz," he explained. "His story is one of Order and Principle, conquest and falling, and while there are doubtlessly many like it this one is His. I'm sure you are all aware of the origins of the Aspects of Makuta already—you all carry the weight of their kindred in your souls and it would behoove any patron to share their nature with their trusted leftenants." Korruhn began to say something and stirred his jaws to ask some question that would only lead to further inquiries, ad infinitum, but was quickly and quietly stopped by the wizard's placating hand on his shoulder. "All will be revealed, brother. For now, we listen." "Right, so, cool beans. Our story begins as all things do: At birth." OOC | I know, not much to go off of here; it's a placeholder so I can better kickstart my brain tomorrow.

IC Leklo & Alp | Kumu Leklo was anxious to get into the thick of things—he thrived on adrenaline and he hadn't the patience to deal with another drawn out meeting. He wanted to fight, to explore, and to feel... something. Life had been too dull, he realized, and in his heart he dwelled on one particular hunch: If Parnassus said Stannis was here in Kumu, there had to be a chance that so was Korruhn. The Wanderer had gone into the Far Shore seeking clues about the cartographer's whereabouts, allegedly, and despite it all the wiry Nuva still wanted to place his faith in the goodness of the strange wizard. It was, he realized, the most exciting thing to consider. "You, uh, call floating flying now, Waveahk?" he nevertheless joked, looking back over his shoulder at the new passengers in the hold. "And do you know anything about the island bloody disappearing?" By the time the troupe had come on board things had become too chaotic for Ostrox to focus on the tome he had found, but erstwhile he had found some few things about the Atramentonicle: It was an introductory volume on all manners of Shadow lore, its nature of obscurity, the mysterious magick in its use, and—importantly—some few key underlying principles of taboo rituals. There were no rites outright listed but they were mentioned and hinted at, even named, as though written by a preeminent scholar who dumbed it down for easier reader digestion. The book was a primer of sorts, a beginner's manual, the first of many, the same one Korruhn had been shown in Ko-Metru's underground Archives and the very same that Caedast herself had penned with her deep powers. This book was ancient and reeked of powerful lore. And it was only the first volume! As he moved to set the book aside, however, something slipped out of the weak binding. A memory crystal.

IC Yumiwak & Korio | Irnakk's Tooth Korio was baffled. Baffled, and slightly terrified. He was no expert on these rituals, but something had clearly gone wrong. Wasn't Zataka supposed to be under Yumiwak's control? Instead, she had returned with a form like the night sky, and what seemed a will of her own. With a pair of chittering scorpion-rahi to boot--he guessed that was what a Z...Zemo...Zivon was. Once Miss Yumi had given up the satchel Zataka had almost left behind (which Korio was certainly curious as to the contents of), the titan and the beasts disappeared into the aether. The Vo-Skakdi swore out loud, then looked to Yumiwak. "What was that?" For a long moment the princess remained wordless, choking on her words and swimming in a wash of thoughts. Away from anyone's prying eyes that could bear witness to her shifting facial queues she went through all the stages of loss in the span of a few seconds, until finally she settled on her default face again and came to accept what had transpired. "That," Yumiwak said with a stern tone, perhaps employed to prop up her own determination, "was a riteborn. But it was not mine to have. Zataka belongs to Irnakk now." Korio was slack-jawed, the gears in his mind turning as he tried to comprehend anything happening. Irnakk himself had intervened here, and stolen away his princess' glory. The Vo-Skakdi felt slighted on her behalf, almost. "But...she was all yours," he said, trying to reaffirm Yumiwak. Still trying to make sense of it. "Ya brought that warrior woman to her knees. And she was a bloody proud one." Kor stepped closer to Yumiwak, and the precipice leading to the heart of the volcano. "I mean...what are we gonna do now?" "My family's old tomes put it best, I think. There's a proverb in their pages that says, The Lord giveth," the princess said, slowly, carefully, as though trying to pray truth into the words she exhaled in the hope of making it all true as she slowly turned her body around to look at Korio straight on, "and the Lord taketh away. It's not our place to wonder why, only to do... and die." She let the thought linger a moment in the front of her mind and tilted her head slightly. Contemplatively, she dropped her eyes off to the side, toying with ideas like baubles on her table. "I've often wondered what that all meant..." ...and die, Korio repeated in his thoughts, his optics traveling from his princess to his feet. He thought often a question that had plagued him since first joining up with Miss Yumi. A question posed by his deep loyalty to her. He had wanted to help lift Yumiwak high above Zakaz, to look down on an island that respected her name. Her power. Would he ever go as far as to die for her? If you had asked him before today, he would have answered with an emphatic yes. Maybe a salute, too. But as he stood here in Irnakk's Tooth, as it rumbled and churned, he was finding himself reflecting on it harder. Yumiwak was upset. Korio would do anything to make her happy. To help her get what she wanted. "Well...I haven't read these tomes, or really know much," he admitted, shrugging slightly. "But, maybe this is one of those giveth moments and not the...taketh." His optics rose again to meet Yumiwak's. "Is there anything else we can do?" "Don't even bloody think about it," came a voice that sliced through the religious tension of the moment. Zai. "If either of us deserves to die for Yumi's glory, it's me, so get lost, Kor." And then, as though goading the her familial nemesis, the fire Skakdi flexed her wiry shoulders and stood square against Korio. The Vo-Skakdi's gaze was broken from Yumiwak like he'd been in a trance. He bared what little of his teeth that weren't already showing at her, circling around Zai like they were a pair of fighting hapaka. Even hunched over, with the damage done to his armor, he was still more visibly burly than the firespitter Skakdi. "Ya wanna fight here, Zai?" Korio asked, fingers twitching for his knives. "It's Miss Yumi's say, not ours." "You want to fight me, Kor," she fired back with a roar of unhinged laughter. "You've been wanting this as much as I have for a loooong time, haven't'cha?" She prowled in mirror form to Korio, keeping her distance from him but clearly not backing down either. She wanted this. Standing at center between them was Yumiwak who looked at her two remaining crew with uncertainty. She valued both of them as family, but even she was keenly aware of the delusions they all lived and that their bonds were all borne of trauma. Their attachments had love but it was a tarnished sort, and Yumiwak—intentionally or not—had done nothing to help them heal. Instead of recovering from their traumas and sealing the scars of life she'd let the blood from the wounds mingle until they scarified as one, breeding the ugly, dysfunctional family they lived in by then. Of all of them, only Ysocla remained stronger than before, and even then only barely. And so Yumiwak, for all her power of will, did nothing to stop her two opposing kin and let them square off. She was angry at herself and knew she had to leave the Tooth with a dragon, and yet when given the choice of who she wanted to be her champion... she did not know. In the moment she could best be an agent of change and mercy, she abstained, too self-absorbed to mitigate the pain her indecision caused. Truth be told, Korio didn't want to have to do this. Not after everything they'd fought through to get here, only to tear eachother apart because Zai couldn't leave well enough alone... But at the same time, he would have been lying if he responded to her challenge with "no." The two had been at eachother's throats since Miss Yumi had brought them together. Korio had always done his part to intentionally upset the Ta-Skakdi, goading her into acting out in Yumiwak's presence. Make her look foolish in front of their--no, his--princess. A sibling rivalry that became more toxic by the day. What should have been a shared love was grounds for a war played out behind Yumi's back. There was no other natural conclusion, he thought. No other way this would end for them. His right hand quickly took hold of one of his combat knives. The other raised towards Zai, making a "bring it on" motion at her. "Then let's get on with it, sister." Zai stared at Korio long and hard as she slowly pulled her kukri out from its leg sheath and flourished its shiny blade. The big knife hadn't seen action in a long time, the last thing it had cut was rigging, and she relished in the opportunity to make good use of it now. Images of cutting her household nemesis from sternum to groin flooded to mind as she embraced the idea of exerting her dominance over Korio once and for all. But this wasn't allowed in Yumi's house. Despite her unhinged and psychotic rage boiling up inside her she knew it was still disallowed to strike at another crewmate. That was Yumi's rule, of course. And so in the last moment of clarity before insanity fully took over the firespitter Skakdi's eyes, she darted a look at her matriarch one last time. Purity, Power, and Skill were the three virtues that Yumiwak's clan embraced and she would not interfere with their implementation, and trials of violence provided the most perfect of tests for these principles as emotions in their purest form often came to a boil thence. Only the strongest and most cunning prevailed in them. To the dragon princess it was obvious what was taking place: A ritual combat of a different sort than what she had with Marrow the Mesi, a trial of adoration and devotion with her as the central object. She knew well what Zai wanted to do—Yumiwak was no fool, she saw the dangerous looks in the eyes of her ensigns ever since they first met—and out of understanding for their needs and religion of blood and survival she gave her consent. Yumiwak nodded to Zai, giving her consent and order to shed familial blood. Zai reacted with animalistic fury, letting out a snarl before she broke her formation and charged at Korio. She angled her kukri like a punch, hoping to disembowel him from the start. The Vo-Skakdi had long-fantasized something like this moment, on the days when Zai tested his patience and will to not attack her, especially in Yumiwak's presence. But here, there was no such need to hold back. Here they had been given her blessing, even, to finally act out their fantasies of violence on eachother. Prove once and for all who was the most loyal to Miss Yumi. So loyal that they would kill one of their only family. Korio had allowed Zai to move first, knowing her eagerness. Her bloodlust. His combat knives were no match for a kukri in size, but it was all in how you used them. He also lacked much agility, but the Vo-Skakdi had his own fighting methods he'd developed in his time on the Rig, and avoiding a blade was one of the earliest things he'd learned from nights spent nursing wounds. Korio barely dodged to the left, feeling the breeze against his frills as the blade went past, then jabbed towards Zai's abdomen knowing she could not come to a complete stop in her rage-fueled charge. He would spill her guts, not his. Zai was caught off guard—had her bloodlusting rage truly softened her reflexes so? she wondered—and she took the dagger in her thorax. Korio's blade was sharp and sliced neatly and she barely even felt the knife's presence. She blinked, unsure what to make of it; the weapon had simply become a part of her chest, finding its place neatly among her organs for the briefest of liminal moments. How fitting that a tool of iron should meld with the blood in her body so seamlessly. And then the firebrand seethed, her rage coming back to the fore with a snarling grimace. She was not defeated yet even though her kukri hung limply and uselessly on Korio's side. She could not strike him with it as it was held, but the could still stab him, and she placed her free hand on his shoulder to hold him close to her. With the scarcest of thoughts she summoned her ethereal blade from inside her chest and a sword of pure energy shunted out like the most vicious of barbs. It passed through Korio effortlessly and emerged at his spine, dropping fizzling red energy to the black ground like a ghost's blood, and Korio... Zai watched with delight as Korio felt the most incredible pain he could scarcely even fathom. The Vo-Skakdi threw his head back and his rictus grin parted into a roar that echoed off the walls of the cavern. The blade that passed through him wasn't real, but the unimaginable pain it caused surely was. But they were up close and personal now, this is what Korio liked in his fights. If he had not been in excruciating pain at the moment, he would have quipped about how this was the closest the pair of Skakdi had ever gotten to hugging, just to annoy Zai. He had still managed to harm her, and with his blade still inside her and what seemed like a tightening of grip caused by a reaction to the pain he felt, Korio twisted the knife in Zai's chest. His left hand and arm twitched as he slowly forced himself to reach for his other combat knife, still sheathed away, but the aethereal weapon in his body and the throbbing red in the corners of his optics was making it difficult. He couldn't do it. But they were face to face, and he managed to bring his head down so the combatants were at optic level. He hated that face. He hated that it was taking up so much of his vision. And that hatred was giving Korio strength. The Vo-Skakdi was grimacing, but to Zai's surprise, it almost appeared like he was trying to smile. Korio's optics began to glow brighter, wisps of red energy coming off of them like steam. He hated her face. He would remove it. The next thing the firespitter saw was a flash of crimson and intense heat as Korio unleashed his laser vision on her at point-blank range. But beyond Korio's red-veiled vision and mixed in with the crimson in his eyes, Zai's powers were also burgeoning in her sockets. Just as one Skakdi fired his lasers into her, she shot back with her own power, embracing Korio as tightly as she could to make the punishment most severe. She would obliterate her foe, even if it was the last thing she ever did. The Vo-Skakdi hadn't expected Zai to retaliate like this, putting them into a struggle of vision power. Korio intensified his lasers, wanting to bore into the firespitter Skakdi's sockets until her optics were no more. Zai might have appreciated not having to see him again, anyway. Meanwhile, the knife kept twisting, Korio's fingers wrapped around it tightly. The heat from their respective vision powers was like the fires of the volcano, enough that even Yumiwak might have felt it from where she was standing. Korio had never seen Skakdi use their optic weaponry this close before, and he was becoming increasingly concerned that Zai's would win out. Korio saw nothing but red, it filled his vision like a million capillaries flush with blood, and the red flowed from his eyes as though it had reached critical pressure and had no other choice but to flood out in a deluge of rage, passion, and pain. They both had one thought, so consumed by their passionate feud's ending that they had only one obsessive, compulsive thought that rang like a song over their guttural grunts and screams: Yumiwak would be proud. And she was. By Irnakk, she was. The skakdi princess watched the performance with enthralled excitement, interpreting—and rightfully so—it to be wholly in her honor. Power and Purity were on full display and it was for her. In her name. The passion that was kindled within the two rivals turned ablaze in her honor. Laserbeams sliced through Zai's flesh like hot knives through butter, turning her shoulder to slag and severed her right hand clear off. Her kukri fell to the ground unceremoniously, still firmly clutched by her lost hand with a thin wispy trail of smoke from the cauterized bicep. Her actual shoulder billowed more smoke, still subjected to the intensity of Korio's angry sight power. Still, Zai held on, shoving her psionic blade harder into her nemesis' heart, hoping against everything that he knew, finally understood, just how much she despised him. And she punished his head directly with her impact vision, almost succeeding in knocking his head straight off between her vicegrip and the sheer force of her powers that drove into his neck like an incessant battering ram. They were destroying each other, literally pulling themselves apart body part by body part, all in a sick, macabre dance of misguided devotion. In that instant, Zai's whole body caught aflame, combusted by the intensity of the heat from Korio's eyebeams and lack of surrender. She tried to hang on longer, tried to fight further, but she could not any more. Her energy flagged suddenly, and she stumbled back. Her other arm fell to her side and she crumbled to her knees. It was impressive how tall Zai had been—even prostrated in defeat as she was her head still hovered at Korio's chest. Blood and ash covered her whole body and even her wicked smile was pulled taught, revealing blackened teeth that hung precariously in burned gums that still sizzled from Korio's display of power. She breathed, haggardly, regurgitating soot from her lungs even as they were being toasted to a cinder within. The flames seared her organic flesh; she was veritably melting before Korio's eyes. "You would die for me?" Yumiwak said, her voice steely and cool in the wake of their self-destructive immolations. "You would both... die in fire for me?" she asked again. Zai nodded. She spoke, though her words sounded muffled, like spoken underwater and coming up in the bubbles. "I offer... myself... for you." Korio's breath was haggard. His opponent's impact vision had given him a headache like he'd never had before, and even now he felt the pain in his chest like the firespitter had truly pierced his heartlight. But his success...Zai's injuries, and her deteriorating state. His absolute hatred towards her, and his revelry in being allowed to shed her blood. It had kept the Vo-Skakdi together for as long as possible. To win. To kill her. "Yes... Miss Yumiwak," Korio said. His goggles had long been shattered by Zai's vision power and hung limply from his neck. "I'd... burn a thousand times over, love... for you..." He fought to stand tall before the much worse off Zai. So that, even now, she would see the truth. He was better. And he had beat her. Korio raised his chin, a weak laugh rising from his grin. It hurt to laugh. "Look at you... bloody witch, melting..." "Then you both shall." The princess' movements were swift as she at once rushed up and thrust Zai into Korio. "Take this flame, and die for me—both of you." The firespitter's flames quickly spread from her body onto the other's, turning Korio alight with the most foul of flames. Before either of them has so much as a chance to think what was happening, their princess had stepped away and shot her own eye beams at the floor beneath Zai and Korio, dissolving the ground to dust and casting the two opposing lovers off and into the fiery caldera of Irnakk's Tooth. They both had no other choice but to throw themselves to the depths. For a moment, Yumiwak stood on ceremonial ground. Time seemed unimportant for a good long while, and she could do little else but while away in respectful silence. She realized suddenly she'd been holding her breath ever since her two most fervent followers had cast themselves down on her behalf. She hoped it was a good death. Yumiwak walked away back to her ship, broken inside as a shattered china shop, but never before more powerful to impose her family's power and will upon the face of this land called Zakaz. Was it worth it? She hoped so. She had barely made it halfway back that two new psychic links connected to her will.

IC Stannis & Whisper & Korruhn & Grime | IE Docent | Uhuraz' Plane "I guess we just... wait for the next weirdo to show up?" Whisper mused, drifting back the way she'd come to more closely inspect the artifacts she'd passed on her way in. She held her kraata and the roving electric bug still clinging to her tendrils close, not wanting to accidentally breach the 'no touching' rule. “I’m not one for staying still,” Stannis admitted with a sigh. Korruhn couldn’t help as his mind kept returning to the suit of armour seated at the throne. He recalled Icarax, the empty, motionless vessel that seemed to represent his spirit. Perhaps this was a similar case? Korruhn stepped toward the throne, intent to inspect the armour more closely. “Who owns this armour?” Korruhn called to seemingly no one. “Considering it’s on a throne and looks very embellished I would imagine it belongs to Uhuraz,” Stannis opined. The armor in question was ornate and kingly in appearance, all blood reds and black with some few shiny gold components. The helmet was particularly well crafted with two golden horns and a similarly bright upturned visor. It seemed to be in very good condition despite its clear disuse, likely as a result of The Armourer’s tending to it. As Korruhn came close to it he also realized this was not Toa-sized—it was large, a full Exo-Toa in scale and built to be imposing on the fields of battle, but also missing things and not functional at the moment. An equally gigantic nodachi rested on a stand at its side, a companion weapon to the armor. It was clear this armor was not like Icarax’s, a mere shell of a former self, but instead was an ARC. A plaque on the dais said it’s name: The Triumph. “Well yeah, that’s pretty clear,” Korruhn shot back. “I was hoping he would answer.” Korruhn looked over the hulking armour; it was unlike anything he’s ever seen. Massive, hulking and destructive, and yet beautifully ornate and artful at the same time. It reminded him of the Ambling Alp. A plaque at the bottom; although vague, alluded to a significant role this armour—and perhaps Uhuraz himself—played in these Cycles. “Does Uhuraz bring an end to all cycles, or was it just the last one? I mean, you should know. It sounds like every one of you was there.” "Whatever cycle I was here for, I don't remember it," Whisper spoke up. She tried to sound casual about it, but her tentative tone betrayed her unease. She was still coming to terms with what the hallucinatory lizard had told her earlier, and to have its words confirmed so suddenly and strangely unnerved her in a way nothing had before. What purpose had brought her here in the past, and what had she done to earn the ire of this plane's strange inhabitants? “Convenient, I suppose,” came his reply. Whisper may have forgotten, but it seems that some others hadn’t. Why nobody thought to divulge this to the millions of now-dead innocents was beyond Korruhn’s comprehension. All he knew at this point was that he didn’t like the way this thread was unraveling. “Convenient?” A note of venom crept into Whisper’s voice. “There is nothing convenient about learning that at some point in the past my existence was so awful that I decided it was better to destroy myself and be reborn anew, rather than continue to exist.” “How do you reach that conclusion, Whisper?” Stannis asked. It was at that moment both Grime and Korruhn felt a knotting twist in their chests. The kraata they bore shivered, and suddenly the two followers of Miserix were without a connection to the maker of their burdens. "We're running out of time," Grime mumbled to himself as his hand touched against his chest. The crack in his heartlight felt fresh, and breathing suddenly became a task in its own right. "What other conclusion is there?" She replied. "I've been here before, I don't remember it, which means I've been... remade since then." “I find it hard to imagine a way you’d forget a world-ending war, is all. Especially for elevated folks like you Aspects.” Korruhn felt a sharp pang in between his shoulders, that spread like a wave of spasm through his nervous system. Before Grime even spoke, he felt the urgency in his own right. “We forget many things, Korruhn,” Stannis said. “A great deal has been lost to memory and is slowly being recovered. Uhuraz is perhaps exempt from this in the sanctity of his domain, which means he is ancient indeed.” “Alternatively,” he went on, “Whisper may have been destroyed by another at some point in the past. We are able to be destroyed but the ideas we represent always bring us back if there is enough wish.” "Our memories and knowledge perish with our past selves when we're reclaimed by the Caldera," she said, to Korruhn. "I may share the name and nature of the Aspect that was here before, but what she knew ended with her." “Then are we, the Matoran People, not more than pawns in some sick war games, with no stakes for the orchestrators?” Korruhn was incensed. “We were all destined to die in this cycle. That’s why destiny never called me; there was none!” Korruhn clutched his right hand into a fist. He could feel the rage surging. The eye on his arm fluttered wildly. The temptation to take the Stone and leave for the Far Shore tugged at him like a magnet. Helplessness swelled in his throat. “Be calm, and learn from serenity as you always have,” Stannis said soothingly. “The truth is often not what we think.” He then asked of both Korruhn and Grime. “Errm. Are you two quite alright?” "What are you talking about?" Whisper snapped. "You're not the pawns, you're the perpetrators. You're the ones who wish us into being. These cycles are your will." “Just peachy, Stannis,” Korruhn replied. “How are we the perpetrators? Everyone I know is dead. My home is annihiliated. I have given life and limb since the League showed up trying to prevent that.” "Then maybe you should have been more careful about what you wished for." “If I had what I wished for, I’d still be in Metru Nui right now.” “Think of us as fans,” Stannis tried to explain, “powered by people and their desires and you, like many others, are caught in between the air currents. Sometimes one fan overtakes the others in the room, one wish dominates the cycle over all the others. That is not your fault, or your failing. That is another’s prevailing. Loss breeds in every passing cycle, Korruhn, and it is the desire of some people and their patrons as Miserix to continue that ouroboros of painful death and rebirth. And some others wish for something very different.” Korruhn mulled the words of the Aspects, chewing them like gristle between his teeth. He hoped, not wished, for nothing more but an end to this insanity. But he wouldn’t get it here, at least it seemed. He thumbed the Makoki stone in his pocket, his hand brushing to ensure the small vial of energized protodermis was still in its place as well. He didn’t know what to expect anymore, or even who to trust. Would Uhuraz even show up? Korruhn stepped closer to the throne, he was practically breathing on the armour now. “Hello,” a new voice said and a little Ta-Matoran came from the door marked with the red EXIT sign. “Yes that is Uhuraz’ power armor. And thank you for not fighting in the war room.” “A Matoran! Is this where all of my kind have come to ride out existence?” Korruhn asked, rhetorically. “And who might you be?” “Oh I’m the docent—the one Velox referred to? At least he said he referenced me. He did, right? And I don’t know what you’re talking about riding out existence because I’m the only one here. Well, and him, I guess.” He pointed to Grime. “Ah, yea, of course. Pardon me, my mind was elsewhere.” Korruhn nodded to the Matoran. “I was once a Matoran myself. Not that often I see one of my kind anymore. Not on the world we came here from, anyway.” "What are you talking about this time?" She said, glancing at Korruhn, "There's more than a thousand Matoran living in Kini-Nui and its outposts. My kraata have empowered nearly a hundred of them." “What?” Korruhn turned to the Aspect. “I watched the League burn the camp at Metru Koro. I saw the survivors welcoming the terrorists into the village. Those that didn’t die, tread on the sanctity of the lives of the rest for their own survival.” “But this is a conversation for another time,” Korruhn said. “It would be quite rude if we don’t let our host proceed.” The Toa’s comments were troubling, to say the least. The attack on Metru-Koro had been more than a month ago, yet Korruhn claimed to have not seen another of his kind since then. Where had he been all that time? What other misconceptions was he clinging to? Whisper wondered... But she begrudgingly kept her questions to herself, and turned her attention back to the docent. "You all have questions. This temple has answers. You want to know about our Lord Uhuraz? And about yourselves? I can show you what there is," the docent said. "Come, come with me, and see." @Unreliable Narrator @Crimson Jester @Gecko Greavesy

IC ???? | Uhuraz' Plane Korruhn's eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light in the room; as the Void Sickness consumed him, a side affect seemed to be improved night vision. He'd take it. The room, although like the antechamber, was still rather odd, like the hallway; institutional, almost. Much unlike any temple he'd visited before. And that being said, there was something else. "I think this is the first time I've ever been in a temple with living priests," Korruhn noted aloud, his head aloft as his eyes scanned the makeup of the auditorium. "Really?" the toa said, appearing somewhat surprised at Korrun's remark. "Are there none living in the time and place you came from?" Stannis shook his head slowly. "Things have changed, Priest. Where there was once life there is little. Civilization moved constantly, repotted and transplanted. Even though all roads lead to Xa-Kas the seasons shift in cycle constantly." "Wise," the toa said approvingly with a gesture of his free hand to the sagely man and planted his staff on the stage. "And are you—you a priest...?" "Once, long ago," Stannis said. It was the truth, but only barely—he was a charlatan in reality, but he played a priest on screen for a long time. "I was a priest for a different Great Spirit, one who's name I shan't utter here on this, most hallowed, realm." "Nnnnnaaaammmeesss..." the toa ruminated. "You know names have power. Identity is everything when you don't have anything else. Please tell me, what are your names?" he asked curiously and settled his chin on the staff, eyes alight with intrigue. "The temples of my world are ancient, forgotten. Strewn with sand, dust and corpses," Korruhn replied. "I dedicated my life to studying them. I am Korruhn, the Cartographer." Korruhn would also not forget Stannis' note of service to an unnamed Great Spirit; although, that was a discussion for another day. He was currently much more intrigued by what the Toa before him had to say. “Your world was once our world, too,” the toa said as a reminder. “Long ago.” “Do you know the empty shells I tread past as I walked those empty halls, then?” Korruhns excitement piqued. “You have to understand, Korruhn Cartographer, my god is a god of war and many people perish over time. It is the role of my brother and I to commemorate the ones who died in service to Lord Uhuraz, but regrettably we did not record any of them who died in the Builder temples… and were not interred.” “I’m Whisper, Aspect of Change,” Whisper said in way of introduction. “I’ll just be up-front in asking – is your god still among us, or has he too been interred?” “You,” he uttered with sudden shock and fright and took a solid step back and foisted his staff to the ready in horror at Whisper’s introduction. “Why have you returned? Are you here to pour salt into the wounds? Has your bitterness boiled over into lemonade for you to spill in our cracks?” "I've... been here before?" The reaction piqued her interest more than anything else she'd seen or heard since arriving in the strange plane. "I'm afraid I don't recall. If you've met me before, it must have been in... another cycle. I assure you, I've no interest in pouring anything in anyone's cracks." The priest’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and remained in a state of concentrated assessment for several seconds that seemed to last for long moments in the sudden silence that overtook the group. “OOOoooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… You really don’t know, do you? New cycle, new body, new mind, because you’re in a new cycle… yeah, that checks out. No difference for us, time is meaningless here and we are cursed to neither forget or find it in our nature to forgive, Whisper.” "If time is meaningless, I suppose there's no point in me asking how long it's been since the... other me was last here?" “There is not,” the priest said contemptuously. “It was been long ago… and yet it was just yesterday that you presented yourself before Uhuraz. Tell me, then, did the spirits remember you as I do?” "The spirits?" He nodded once, sternly, impatient; he seemed to think he was being strung along. “In the chambers that you walked to come here.” "There were voices, earlier," she recalled. "They asked if I was here to deliver them." “Did they,” the Toa said slowly with boiling rage behind his eyes. He was beyond angry, and for all the world struggled not to try and destroy the tentacled Aspect right there before him. Only the odds prevented him from doing so; against Whisper alone he could succeed, against just one more warrior would barely alter the result, but with three others it was practically suicide. One thing was clear in his mind, however: Whisper needed to die. And if she died here, away from the Time Between Time, away from its plane, she would die forever. Oh what frabjous joy “Then… it’s true.” Stannis gestured with his hand as though touching the man’s face like braille, except remained at a distance. He had remained quiet in the verbal altercation Whisper had found herself in though he was certainly lying attention. Something about the priestly man had awoken a memory in him and he desperately wished to revive the greater thought, and so he focused intently on his visage. “Velox… your name is Velox,” he said slowly. “Ahhhhhh, so you remember, you know. But who are you? It is not me to forget a face I’ve met.” “I was a different person, then,” Stannis replied. “My face has changed like the dunes. My name is Stannis.” “Well met, Builder Stannis,” Velox said, his tone suddenly dripping all the spite he held for Whisper. But as soon as he finished greeting the wizard his eyes snapped back to the pink monster before him. Builder Stannis, Korruhn thought to himself. Curious development. Just how deep did the Builders and the Aspects really run? The Void Touched felt like a fish out of water in this odd-itorium. The eye on his arm looked rapidly around the room. "You didn't answer my question," Whisper replied warily, "Is your lord still here, or is this whole place merely a shrine to another cycle long since past?" “He lives,” Velox said. “And you do not get any more answers from me, Foe.” Though the staff of Mind Reading she held wasn’t strong enough to let Whisper read Velox’s exact thoughts, she could certainly sense his overwhelming feeling of hatred. If it weren’t for the fact she had no idea what she’d done to deserve such vehement feelings, she might have even been flattered. She drifted back a little, leaving her companions to their conversations. Evidently she wasn’t going to get any other answers from Velox. "Does He like music? I could play a song for Him," Grime piped up from behind the taller beings. He'd spent the journey so far mentally cataloguing as much as he could. “And you are?” Grime shrugged and answered: "I'm Grime." “You may play a song in worship, ‘Grime,’ but do not lie in His holy house again.” "Back to the Builder Temples," Korruhn chimed in. He held out his arm to show the other Toa, this Velox, as he was named. It was black as midnight, it's armor jagged. "I got this in one of the Builder Temples. Do you have any record of it, or what it is?" “That… is a question for the Armourer—mysticism and collection is not my expertise. But you may find some knowledge on our walls. They tell our histories and share what Uhuraz knows. I encourage all of you to learn.” "Indeed," he replied, lowering his arm. This place, this realm was comforting; for as strange as it was, it was very similar to the Knowledge Towers of Metru Nui. "How do you know all of my party?" "Through War," Velox said. "Most interesting. I've seen frescoes and bas reliefs depicting battles lost to record, but nothing complete enough to make out what actually happened, or who was involved." “Then you have not seen all the walls,” Velox said with a shrug. “They tell a story, Korruhn. Sometimes you aren’t looking in the right part of the book to understand the tale being told.” “Indeed I have not,” he returned. “I didn’t have the capabilities I have now in those days. But alas, I’m here now, a student of knowledge. Would you care to show me?” “That is also not my expertise,” Velox said. “I will have the docent show you. He will meet you soon.” And then Velox struck the stage with his staff and in a puff of smoke he was gone from sight. “Not fair. I’ve been wanting to do that,” Stannis said of the trick. Korruhn tightened the grip on his Rahkshi staff, looking to Grime, Whisper and Stannis, and then around the room; devoid of anything of note save for the armour seated in the throne. Something about this didn’t feel right. Who were these Toa? @Gecko Greavesy @Crimson Jester @Unreliable Narrator @EmperorWhenua

IC Leklo | Alp, Kumu Airspace "I think he's saying... 'Let love in,'" Leklo spoke to himself as he beheld the ungainly aberration being buffeted by the winds outside the serene airship's cabin. "... Did Waveahk become a born-again convert to a Lovecraftian faith? Oh wait maybe he wants in." Just as much a risk-taker as he was a forgiving man, Leklo did not hesitate to open the entry bay door for the second time since taking to the air in the ship. Perhaps Waveahk also had some intelligence about the vanishing geography, but whatever the case Leklo was driven to see what was up. The book was a plainly-adorned hardback tome with sparse gold leaf embellishments on the spine. It was simply labeled "Volume I." It appeared to be an encyclopedia of sorts, or at least purported to be one on its exterior; when he pulled it open it made a splitting crak! sound as its ancient and nearly unused bindings faltered which would have shattered any archivist's heart into pieces, but not Ostrox. He was focused on finding what the old wizard was about and what his secrets were. Inside the tome were articles, much like what he would expect from an encyclopedia, but they were not alphabetical and written in an archaic script. He flipped back to the first pages to see what the greater title was. It read, The Atramentonicle: The Chronicle of Shadows, Treatises on Darkness, Vol. I of LXIX The little vial held a green fluid that rolled slowly around in its confines like glittering sand in a live sculpture toy. It did not react to his presence and looked otherwise innocuous.

IE Jural & IC Stannis | Uhuraz' Plane The Armourer looked first at Whisper's floating self and then shifted his gaze towards the old grandfather chaperone, the PETA member who was still in his post-grunge phase, and then at the Builder, before shrugging emphatically. He didn't know what else to expect, really—he couldn't remember what he was supposed to expect anymore, it'd been so long since they had visitors in the Iron Fist. It was a shame, of course; the dimension had been clawed from the Multiverses by Lord Uhuraz himself, claimed by his power and hewn to his needs and likings as an institution of reeducation. This was a place for questions to be asked and biases to be disowned in exchange for a higher, empiricist mind view. And yet, nobody asked him anything worth so much as noting on the syllabus. He was beginning to get the inkling these pilgrims were not what they seemed. "Very well," he said curtly. He spun on his heels and pushed open the double doors marked signage that read "Auditorium — Shh!" This door, at least, functioned as normal doors did and required no sacrifices from anyone. As they all walked in, the colors shifted once again and they found themselves in a setting much more aligned with the one from the antechamber. The 'auditorium' was indeed a performance chamber of a sort but it was dark and gloomy, and the familiar red hues adorned the mottled walls. Thankfully for the visitors it did not exude the same uneasy feelings of ill life despite the aesthetic similarities. Shadows played against every surface, making the fits of color far and in between, like flashes of dried blood on a chalkboard. Up ahead, past the rows and rows of empty seats that all lined up to face the front, was the stage that was lit by only a single lamp that shone brightly but cast little against the walls but hauntingly little light. [img] Doors on either side of the audience area were marked with signs marked "EXIT;" the left side's side was red, and the other was green. The one they had come from, Stannis realized, was similarly marked with a yellow sign. What seemed to be a thin, gauzy red curtain divided the stage front and back, and behind it lay a whole arrangement akin to a throne room [img] setting as if laid out for a play. The wall ornamentations in the theatre came to life beyond the curtain and intersected at the back of the stage. As the pilgrims' eyes adjusted they realized the large throne was not empty: On it was a suit of armor, seated in repose. [img] "I'll be with you again shortly," Jural said and gestured further into the chamber. "My brother can assist you from here. And please—ahem—do not touch any of the relics." Up ahead, Stannis could see another toa materializing from the shadows on the stage and coming under the sheer curtain. The great sheet of fabric rippled when the toa lifted the edge to pass underneath and then sighed silkily as it fell back into place when he let go. He was an adorned toa, tall as Jural and marked with blue armor much deeper than Jural's with a flowing black cape. A priestly chest plate covered a heartlight and he carried a double-ended staff with ease by one hand. "Welcome!" the toa bid with mirthless enthusiasm. "Welcome to the Temple of Uhuraz. You've come farther than anyone and are all, truly, Welcome Ones in this sanctum. You are hereby blessed." "You must be the high priest," Stannis said. "That is my title," the toa said. "But not properly elected to it. It comes with being the only priest, unfortunately. We have not received loyalists come to pray to their God Uhuraz in eons." @Crimson Jester @Unreliable Narrator

IC Leklo + Ship | Ambling Alp Ostrox found the crew quarters—two small sleeping rooms designed with Matoran dimensions in mind, though one of them had been drastically adjusted to accommodate a toa instead. This was likely the wizard's chamber which he used after leaving the Warskak camp to do his unknowable missions. The small bed was pushed up against the wall to make more space on the floor where the bedding from both the rooms were laid to be a single sleeping mat. While it was obviously scourged together, nothing about the room was messy or disorganized; the old man was apparently neat and tidy in ways his unkempt cloak betrayed. On the ground was also an incense burner, a hardbound book, and a magnifying glass. Up ahead, Ostrox could see into the little laboratoriette. It was stocked with basic lab equipment for mineral analysis and small research projects. There were some small tubes of green fluid stowed carefully in a sealed holding case, an organized notebook with scrawled journals, and an array of assorted magnetized implements. Leklo wasted no time manœvering the Alp southwards and leaving Oreius to his fate. He had no doubts at all everything he'd said was true and that he would either succeed or live to try again, but something about his final words about the Aspects made him fall into deep introspection about their kind. He'd seen some small whiffs of their mystical powers and had a dreadful inkling that Stannis was not Stannis at all in all the years he'd been in 'the Ark,' but those straying thoughts were disturbed by Parnassus conversing. Thankfully, the conversation was agreeable to the adrenaline junkie's mindset. "I'll direct you there," Parnassus said, pointing out the windshield. "It is both graveyard and birthplace for us, Aspects: the holiest of sites. There's bound to someone there who can help us." "Good," was all he said in a refocused response. The Alp was a fast ship and Leklo was nothing short of enthusiastically enthralled by its handling. The landscape below whizzed by as ground turned blue in a blur. Wait. Hold up. Reticent to lose time or waste effort he nevertheless slowed the airship down to get a better read on what he was seeing. The ground was not blue from speed but... it had become water. The strange domain of Kumu still came up ahead of them and the desecration rock the native Skakdi favored was at its established location, but it was the landscape that had changed. He'd transected this area with Korruhn once, he knew well as any other than what they were supposed to be over land. That only meant one thing, and as unthinkable was it was he'd come to understand chance flowed differently there on this land called Zakaz. "Parnassus," he said, concern on his tongue, "why is the island turning into the sea?" @Void Emissary "And what the— is that the Steltian dude from Metru-Koro... floating up to us????"

IC Hiripaki | Sublevel 7 "I guess... if nobody is is coming to save me from getting moist," she soliloquied, "an AI's gotta punch her own self-preservation protocols into high gear." If she could sigh she would, but all she could do was vent her coolant fans a bit more than normal... but she was crafting a plan with the ideas long implanted into her circuitry. She would not be able to assist Stannis of the Maru if she was moist, and that... just did not work with her directive.

IE Velox | Uhuraz' Plane "A simple misunderstanding of facts, Voided One. Shed your rose-tinted lenses of cognitive dissonance. I am the Armourer but I didn't say that this an armoury," Velox corrected. "It is a temple and a High Place, a creation of Uhuraz' will."

IE Dude 1 | Uhuraz' Plane The toa smiled kindly at the little Builder. He remembered when he was like him, plucky, spry, smarter than a whip and more resourceful than he seemed, and assumed rightly that the Builder had to be all those things and more to thrive as he had in the wasteland of the Time Between Time. Dirty and grimy though he was, there was an uncanny strength in his eyes, even if it was fueled by adoration of another. Faith was a powerful driving factor and the toa knew it intimately. "I am called the Armourer," he said. "My name is Velox."

IC Stannis | Uhuraz' Plane The Wanderer was reticent to share information needlessly and, true to his personality, remained quiet about what he had offered up in exchange for grace and passage. "I can imagine years in solitude could amass quite a curiosity, but I'll keep that between myself and the lord," Stannis said, playing along with the principle of sacred secrecy as long as it supported his own motivations. . "Suit yourself," the dude said. He held his head at an angle for a second as he considered the things to say in addition and then settled on a particular string of words he graciously spat out, "I'll warn you that the Assessor will record the alms in due time and I will eventually find out regardless." "The only thing that my kind have to offer," Whisper replied. "Power." She was not a good liar, and it rendered the likelihood of her playing at deception rather low. The kraata Stannis had bestowed to Whisper still beat within her carapace and he instantly ruled out the leech or their bond as the power Whisper had given up, but she was to be believed that power of some kind had been parted with. Perhaps it was her own kraata ability, but more likely her shadow powers. Stannis made a mental note of it, realizing well in advance that this knowledge would be useful when they eventually would meet combat in this labyrinthine plane; the warmage would need to compensate for the sudden weaknesses of his companions. They could keep him alive, and in turn he could keep them fighting. Korruhn asked questions pertaining to Irnakk, and while the docent had little to say about the Great Spirit of Nightmares there was a certain disgust towards the deity to be noticed. An old spat, perhaps, or confusion about Irnakk's erratic comings and doings, Stannis thought, reflecting that the docent had as much regard for the great spirit as Caedast had for her own apotheosized form in the Far Shore dimension. Gods were not to be trifled with even when they were certainly mistrustful. The signs in the strange dimension seemed to indicate they were getting close to an auditorium; surely this would be where Uhuraz would reside. The docent indicated as much when he turned around to the group right before the last hallway turn. "We are almost to His Lord. If you have any further questions of me, this would be when to do it." @Unreliable Narrator @Gecko Greavesy @Crimson Jester