EmperorWhenua

IC Yumiwak | Irnakk's Tooth I had come to the Tooth with the expectation that I was one of Irnakk's Chosen, that I would be given the keys to His kingdom and the greatest of His gifts. I'll admit it... I was wrong. I did not have the full grace and glory of the Remaker—that gift, it seemed, belonged to Zataka. Bloody Zataka. I wanted to curse at her, question what my senses told me, and rebuke her newfound status but there was no use. She was chosen as an avatar of the Dreamweaver; it would be best if I simply bowed my knee. And that... was precisely what I did. Stowing my pride and vanity, biting my lip with jealousy, I dipped myself down and looked up in awe at the one who had once been my ward. :Now then...you have something of mine.: {Yes.} {Here.} I handed the satchel back over, it was not mine to keep, just as she was not mine to keep. Her soul had been partitioned with Irnakk and only between the two—my ballots had no place with her anymore. But there was no further retribution to be had, to my amazed relief, only awesomeness and expectation. I would keep my head through this, and it was very much understood that I was fortunate in doing so.

IE Dude 1 | ???? The dude shrugged. "Irnakk does as Irnakk wants, as it's his right. He left for his own reasons and seems to have come back just the same. It makes no sense, but dreams rarely ever do."

IE Dude 1 | ???? "I assure you, this place is not Karzahni," the man said. "Builders have come consistently over the ages. Once, all of them bent their knees in adoration of Lord Uhuraz the Conquerer, King of Kings, Master and Commander of the Cruel Fist, Lord of Hosts, and Holder of Chains, and so on, but now? Not so much. We've had a sparse few of Irnakk's Prized give gifts, but we have no idea why they're around anymore--we saw the Dreamweaver leave long ago, so why would he be back?" he thought aloud in a confused tone. "Devilish pranksters, the lot," he scorned.

IE Dude 1 | ???? ”Correct, it was what they most prized. What did you offer?” he said, and then quickly added on a polite disclaimer, saying, “And you are under no obligation to satisfy my idle curiosity. What you gave is a holy thing and you may disclose only of your own will.” OOC | Sent from my iPhone 12 Pro

Uhuraz Temple Plane Environmental Characters to be populated as they are interacted with (approved by Eyru) Jural, the Armourer Breed: Toa of Ice Faction: Makuta Uhuraz the Conqueror, King of Kings Brief Description: A tall and lanky Toa of Ice with white and pale blue armor. Wears a belt at which he can hold his dirk and shield. Background/Occupation: Jural exists in Uhuraz' home spiritual plane of existence and lives in the service to his patron. Despite this, he is surprisingly undesecrated, although a few scars on his back do imply that he had been previously. His duties are educational and magical, collecting the abundance of offerings people give to see Uhuraz and sorting them out in the sprawling plane's complex. He is the keeper of the Armor, maintaining Uhuraz's power armor (ARC) and is an expert in technology and history. Flaws: Jural is mentally scarred after eons of service to Aspect of Makuta Uhuraz. He cannot fathom to leave his plane of existence for fear of falling under a different deity's spell, and will become quite agitated when his patron's power is put into question. Heat can abate his powers and drain his strength. Powers: Ice elemental powers; Telekenetic powers from his Matatu; mental defenses against sleep, mental intrusion, and illusions (special training/quirk). His skill in wielding his element is unusually potent - Ice is one of his most potent weapons in battle. Dude uses his power over ice in many imaginative ways, from creating blizzards to icicle-spears to ice-boards, and Jural can adapt his element to meet the demands of almost any situation. Equipment: A single dagger, a crossbow. Velox, the Swordbearer Breed: Toa of Lightning Faction: Makuta Uhuraz Description: An adorned toa, tall as Jural and but who's armor is in a much deeper blue than Jural's, with a flowing black cape. A priestly chest plate covers his heartlight and he carries a double-ended staff with ease by one hand. Background/Occupation: The High Priest (unelected) by virtue of being the last priest of Uhuraz's, Velox is the keeper of Uhuraz's ARC weapon, the sword, and is a deeply thoughtful warrior. He is jealous for his god and will protect him and his legacy at all costs. This is not due to meddling from the Aspect in his mind but rather a fervent, truly held belief. Flaws: Very slow to let anger go, can allow his berserker tendencies get the better of him in a fight, struggles with combatting multiple opponents. Powers: Desecrated with a Kraata of Teleportation at the second level; elemental power of Lightning, Kanohi Hau. Equipment: A rahkshi staff of Poison he can use his powers through as well. Uhuraz, the Conquerer, King of Kings, Master and Commander of the Cruel Fist, Lord of Hosts and Holder of Chains, etc. Breed: Aspect of Makuta Thematics: Ownership, order. Faction: Himself Description: Uhuraz was once a fierce general and towering warrior, but times had changed. Since restarting his cycle, he took on the visage of a Builder named Takua and since then appears as an ordinary-looking Ta-Matoran with a Pakari. His armor is well-maintained and perfectly polished, making him almost seem to glow in the darkness. He is inquisitive and eager to learn, in the hopes that he will be able to amass the power needed to bring the world to heel again. Background/Occupation: Conquerer, King of Kings, Master and Commander of the Cruel Fist, Lord of Hosts and Holder of Chains, et al., etc. Long ago in a previous eon Uhuraz nearly succeeded in the great game to becoming a Great Spirit, but was struck down by an Aspect of Change who vehemently disagreed with Uhuraz' expectation for the whole world to be unchangeable and made to his organized will. He since reconstituted from the Caldera's fluid and fled into his temple, locked away with only his two remaining disciples for company, and whiles away as he waits for a suitable sacrifice to make his war machines function once more. His primary wish is to make his ARC work again so that he can inspire fear in the hearts of his enemies and venture out again. Flaws: Deeply afraid of dying and ending his legacy, constantly re-learning his past and striving to escape his temple to fight again. He is safe so long as he is in his temple complex, but he is not able to muster the strength to fight outside. Powers: Second level Aspect abilities, with a kraata power of Magnetism, which he uses in conjunction with his Shadow powers to create his version of "Dark Magnetism." He also has the following Taboo Rites: Desecration Repose Shadow Hand Soul Searching Flaw Consumption Kraata Sense He is also a skilled smith and crafter of things, having once made his ARC as a war machine long ago. Equipment: He carries no weapons as a matoran and relies on his powers and taboos to fight. He has an ARC that does not function and a sword he is too small to wield. The ARC of Triumph (broken) ACR’s Faction/Homebase: Uhuraz, his Plane It looks like a large suit of Samurai armor: Image 1 and Image 2, with the Kanohi Avohkii on its headpiece as a visor. Nonfunctional; Currently without heartlight.

IE Temple & Dude | ???? "From that time, and before. Yet others are given more recently, but just because someone tithes does not mean they make the pilgrimage. Some people like to amuse themselves by giving trinkets of offerings as paltry sacrifices. I loathe them. Good for you, you are not that."

IE Temple | ???? Grime passed by a number of things, all of which were stashed behind a plexi screens of indeterminate security: A jar of pickled radishes that look like eyeballs A heartlight (deceased) A collection of buttons, some of which still had thread fragments attached A Skakdi grandmother's dentures with strange runic markings on the teeth A bowl of still-living goldfish (on a pedestal, not behind a plexi screen) An iStone (dead battery) A McDonald's happy meal with fries (cold, but somehow not moldy) The only existing vinyl copy of the Wu-Tang Clan's "Once Upon a Time in Shaolin" A collection of yellow legal pad notes, one of which is entitled "3rd Arc of the BZPRPG"

IE Temple & Dude | ???? "Time has very little meaning in this a High sanctuary," the toa said kindly. "We function on a... different basis. But perhaps the best indicator is what toa look like—the last time we had pilgrims they looked like your chaperone here." He pointed at Stannis.

IE Temple | Kumu The tithing suva took Korruhn's kanohi without question, just as it drank in Whisper's shadows and Stannis' healing factor. From Grime, however, it took something less discernible, and whatever prayers the Builder offered up had gone unmentioned; nevertheless, Uhuraz took what was given and placed it in his unseen coffers with glee. It was not for the church to assign values to the things tendered to Uhuraz—everyone had different priorities and wants, everyone was unique and so was their idea of treasure. Had Korruhn surrendered his arm it would have been received regardless; had Whisper given up her sanity it would have been received; had Stannis tendered his sense of joy the result would have been the same; had Grime tried to tithe his connection to Miserix, the thing he most prized above all else, it would have been accepted without question. All gifts were taken, as all things belonged to the Conqueror. The temple opened itself up to the worshippers in response to their edification of the ancient god. When Korruhn first entered the chamber they were in he had been struck with the ominous feeling that this place, the temple, was somehow a living organism and they were in the belly of some beast. Never before was that feeling palpable than in the moments that followed the group's sacrificial tithing. A great yawning rumble filled the incredible space, dull in temper from the dampening effect within but still forceful enough to stretch across the whole of the chamber in a low, disturbing churn. The once-stoic monolith lumbered to motion and a burning from within glowed dull red like magma burning its way through the earth, and the tithing suva they had bestowed the offerings to began to radiate their energy into the ground. Lines all across the floor started to emanate from the shrines and across the floor, pulsing with red energy like a network of veins that touched everything in the antechamber and crawled gradually to the enormous beating heart at the center, lending further credence to the macabre sensation that they were standing in something somehow alive... and they roused it. One by one, runes on he face of the relic burst to life like a great countdown, first at the very top of the towering slab and then to the right of it, and then again, and then again, like markings of the passing of time coming to light in a clockwise rotation, until finally the countdown ritual came all around the fresco and met where it had began. Stannis looked at it with a sense of expectation while Grime knew what it said easily; Korruhn only recognized some of the symbols as those from Stannis' tome of shadows. All who live — Shall all die — All shall live again — In the Kingdom Finally, the baleful yawning sound reached a deep and jarring crescendo as the inky stone monument developed a bright, thin crack of crimson light that sliced through the middle of it from top to bottom slid open wide enough to admit the beings in the antechamber. Suddenly the monolith ceased its movement and remained still, and the awful sound grew quiet. What replaced it, however, was the familiar tugging feeling Korruhn had sensed before, only stronger and more compelling. Come to me, the door seemed to say, come to me. And so all four of them complied, marching towards the awaiting door like marching pilgrims. There was no denying the door; all paths led to it just as all veins led to the heart, and there was no other choice but to go to it. And through it. And they passed the threshold into another plane entirely. What awaited them was unlike what any of them expected. Gone were the ominous hums of clanking doors and grumbling stomaches, gone were the hues of red and black they had come from, swapped instead for crayon colors and pastel walls, mottled grey and white floors that stretched in straight lines ahead and to the sides, and simple wooden doors marked with playfully marked signage in Comic Sans lettering. Light came from lowly humming fluorescents, some flickering mildly and wanting of some small attention, but everything was otherwise meticulously clean and untouched. Whatever they thought they would encounter beyond the veil was... not this. Even Stannis, usually wiser than his years and comfortable in any setting, looked for all the world like he was lost, and Grime scrunched his nose in aghast bewilderment—it may have been preferable to discover they were not heroes and villains but action figures made of petroleum waste and sold on supermarket shelves for discounted "must-go-now" prices. The Wanderer tried a door, but it did not budge. The only echo of the great symbology they witnessed on the other side was an eclectic display of unusually rare artifacts that were on display all down the corridors, exhibited casually the way someone would a pinned-up children's drawing, only these were esoteric items of archeological value. "Eh-hem," came a voice, catching all four interlopers by surprise. Before them stood a tall, gaunt toa of ice with a Matatu. "Please leave the displays alone, thank you. So, do you all have a hall pass?" He sounded pleasant and educated, a civilized and melodic tone to his voice that was instantly calming and trustworthy—not that any of the visitors trusted him automatically, but there was still a riveting calm to his presence. "What the devil is a 'hall pass?'" "Ah..." the man said, shaking his head and realizing what he said and that he'd been caught up in the wrong mindset. "My apologies—it's been so long since we received pilgrims here at Cruel Fist High. Worshippers of Lord Uhuraz don't come often, you know—or, well, at all, more like. Come on, follow me and I'll take you to him. But please do leave the exhibits alone." And then, with an inviting tilt of his head, the toa turned on his heels and began to walk down a hallway. @Gecko Greavesy @Crimson Jester @Unreliable Narrator

IE Temple | Kumu Grime touched the object and it responded to his interaction instantly, while Korruhn's dripping of his lifeblood inspired his dome to come to life slowly. What was before a simple dark dome that glowed like a smoldering ember burst into radiant light from within. It seemed to yearn for more, begging, pleading for something from the two devotees, and as the small shrines shone ever brighter the visitors discerned text made visible on the tops of the domes. Render to Uhuraz the things that are Uhuraz's and to Him the things that are His All who tithe shall be Welcome Ones "Tithing suva," Stannis said in realization as he stepped to the one closest to him. "Just as some suva honor toa or Tren Krom, others are meant to serve for an Aspect's aggrandizement. Tithe what you will, but only the best crops are to be rendered to the lord, and... believe." The Wanderer placed his hand on the dome and instantly connected with the device. It was not for meditation, however, and the connection they had was strictly transactional—it felt his power and glory and demanded a sacrifice to be made from the best Stannis could offer. It did not take long for him to decide what to give, however—he the suva, in the honor of the Aspect of Makuta who dwelled there, he surrendered what he most prized, surrendering his inherent kraata power of healing and becoming mortal in truth. Only for now, he thought. Until this transaction is complete, my life is yours. He hoped the others would give up something as well. OOC | Almost there! @Gecko Greavesy

IC Leklo | Ambling Alp "No, not yet," Leklo said in a half-lie. Was it even that, though? Stannis hadn't said anything about 'the Caldera,' but without knowing if he even intended to it was not easy to outright deny that he would eventually, either. He hoped Parnassus would share, however; Leklo would compare their stories afterwards and decide for himself what to believe.

IC Stannis | Kumu "Someone is talking about me..." the old wizard murmured, distractedly concluding that he was indeed still in the same plane as they came from. A lizard silently scampered across the damp floor. A rivulet of blood almost dropped on it from Korruhn's bleeding hand. Gross, it thought, quickly darting away to avoid further bloodshed.

:regional_indicator_f:

IE Temple + Grime | Kumu "Any, uh... other ideas?" Grime said, standing next to one of the glowing red domes that seemed to dot the ominous landscape therein.

IC Temple | Kumu Korruhn bled on the ground. His ichor meshed with the dirty floor, but while the temple hungrily partook of his lifeblood it did not react. This was not how sacrifices were received. “Are you… doing a performing arts manœvre, Korruhn?” Stannis asked. “The floor seems red enough already.”

IC Stannis | Kumu "Unless this temple's god is less discerning than vampires," Stannis said absentmindedly, but nevertheless with intent as he ambled away from the monolith with its frescoes and instead moved his inspection to one of the dimly glowing domes.

IC Stannis | Temple, Kumu “I did not,” Stannis said. “If the voices had something to say it seems they only had it for you to hear.” OOC | This is a puzzle. You already have the hints you need at this point.

IC Leklo + Oreius | Airspace, Ambling Alp "Do as I must," Oreius caustically echoed under his breath. Years upon years of his life and liberty had been stripped from him, and all those days he had been left doing the bidding of others, of generals and kings, of seers and djinn, never able to single draw a breath for himself ever since he made a bargain with a devil. He had moved through the universe doing what he thought he wanted only for it to be pre-ordained and he fought in wars, shed his sweat and blood in accordance to his principles, and then discovered it was all according to someone else's plan. The beachhead of the N. Continent; the plains of Kahzanhi; the forests of Daxia; the streets of Metru Nui; all these and more were because of another's whims and he, a once-too Maru of honor and justice, had been succumbed to by his hubris and the one attachment of love he ever had. Inu still beat in his shoulder like some terrible parrot that chirped sweet pictures in his neural system, and the kraata his beloved had become had become a constant reminder of his folly. Hatred stirred in his heart that burned brighter than as his own flames and hotter than his love for Inu, an unabated anger that reviled both Stannis the "Once-brother" and himself for his own stupidity. He spent his time stewing, despising everything that reeked of the Wanderer and yet ever being in his patron's shadow. No matter where he went or what he did he could not snuff out his anger, regardless how much sand he poured on the embers or spit upon the ashes. He tried to put himself out of his misery more than once, early on, only to find the bullets ricochet off his chin like flicked stones; he threw himself against marauders more than once, hoping to be vanquished in honor one final time, but instead turned the tides of battle and shirked away from the spotlight of glory because of what it reminded him of. Do as I must, he thought to himself bitterly. And nothing more. Finally he found his ship, hovering in the air exactly where he left it, and realized immediately there was no chance of the airships docking to make the transfer easy. Unwilling to negotiate with the controls or be too careful with his fate he simply sidled the Ambling Alp several bio above the Lapyx, and opened the gangway to exit the ship. "Take the controls," he commanded to Leklo as he got up from the seat and moved to the ramp that funneled thundering air into the hull of the small research vessel. "I'm jumping." "What are you doing?" Leklo asked loudly over the roar of wind, a spur of disbelief and concern coming from his lips as he realized the dangerous stunt his fellow toa was about to attempt—and wished it was he who undertook it instead. "What I must!" "But what if you miss?" "Then I will dash my body on the rocks below... and I will curse their kind when I get up unscathed," he roared angrily and emphatically pointed an accusatory finger at Parnassus. Oreius jumped. What are his chances of success? Leklo calculated as he took the pilot's seat and turned the Alp south. OOC | Alp and guests to Kumu. @Toru Nui @Eyru

IE Temple | Kumu Whisper had rationales that since this temple was made for and in honor of another Aspect of Makuta that the energies inside would respond to the influence of another. Her tendril of a hand touched the oily, black stone and she could feel it pulsing with some form of energy inside but could not discern the nature of it, and in a test of its nature she began to channel her Shadow elemental powers into the monument. The monolith did not react to the shadow abilities of the younger Aspect, but something else stirred. In a barrage, she felt the psychic currents in the air ripple around her mind like invisible lightning bolts, coursing through and then vanishing and leaving echoes of horror and chaos in their wakes. The sensation had muffled everything else in a torrent of white noise that turned everything else into a din, and in the sound-muffling chamber the outsiders were in the barrage felt thunderous in Whisper's mind. Barely discernible in the wash of energy were faint whispers speaking directly to... her. Ỳ̺͚̪̣ó̶̵̦͇ù̬͕͇͎̲͈̯͝?͙͖̺͚͕̫̫͞ ͏̟̱͈̺̞͉̤ ̨̹̭̤̘͕̮͍̼́̀N̶̢̢̗̭̳̠̟o̭̹͈̫̬͍͡—͎̺͓̝̦͈̰̮y͇̞̭̺̞̖͈ͅo̼̪̭̬̺̩u̦͈̙̺͚̮͜͞?̭̗̼͇̟͡ ̴̪̣̬̫̮̻̀͡ ̹͚͖H̨̫̳̀a͙v͖̮͢e҉̷̤̣̝͎̫̲͕͓̥́ ̤̬̖͝y̡҉̥̗̱o̻̭̗͠u̜͇̹͠͞ ̷̛̤̘̮͙̼̫̘͙̪c̛͙̼̻̀o̩͉͔̥̗̳͇͝ͅm̭̜̟͙̘̭͘͝e̬̫͕̰̫ ̖̦̰̫͠t̶͜҉͖͉o̥̮͔̙̭̺͜ ̡̺̜d҉̘͙̭̱͇͙e͕̞̻̯͖l̳̲̬̱͖̣̺͝ͅi̵̸̯͙̺̤͟v̝̬͍̩̻̞̰͡e͞͏̵̩͉̺̜̣͎̹ͅr̛̠̜̥͔͞ ̶͔͙̫̺̝͔̝u͇̤͈̥̩̩̼s̷̭̜̜̪̘͓̩?͕̘̯̻̯̱͘͟ ̤̩̭̱̙̱͘ ͏̷̖̖͍̦͡H̢̳a̢̮̳͕͕̼̮͕͍v̢̢͖͉̫̀e̥͝ ̛̦̖̟̣͇̤̮̪̕y̲̦̳̬̣̞̣̹ǫ̣̤̫̜̭͚̀ụ͇͟ ͏̴̧̩̤͙͎̳̠̬̳c̰̗̤̙̹o̶̘͚̬͉͝ḿ̡͎͈͉̜͚̘̥̭e̵̵̼̯ ̴͇͇t̸͙̥͔͍̩̤̘͘͟o̲̝̬̖͔̱ ̹̻c̠̮̥̖̗̜̳͠͞͡ͅh̡̠͚͙͠͝a̮͚̪̭̝̠̦͝n̶̯̥͇̰͎̭̳͍͢g̱̦̞̭̮̠̠e҉͓͎̮̯̦̹͇̗ ̵̹̮͍͕͎͙͇̞u̶̲̞̦̫s̜̣̣̗̤͖͇̰͢?̴̨̲͙̫ Stannis stood by idly, observing Whisper with a mixture of concern and astonishment. He, too, felt the ripples of energy but only the blank distortion—the spirits did not speak to any other save Whisper—and turned his attention from his fellow kindred to the obelisk and then again to the chamber they were in. "This is a place of arcane worship," he said once Whisper seemed to come to once more. "Look at the glyphs on the monument—they must indicate how prayer is conducted." Upon some closer inspection on the block of inky stone that rose up high he could just barely discern inscriptions of faith and destruction. In it, people could be seen praying to a god of some kind, and all manner of things were seen being sacrificed on overturned bowls to the god's honor. Blood splatters were all over the base of the monument like red lichen, percolating up the flat sides of the monolith in a bizarre gory camouflage pattern such that it was hard to tell where the floor ended and the monolith rose up from the floor. "Are you quite alright, Whisper?" @Crimson Jester @Unreliable Narrator

IC Stannis | Temple, Kumu "No, I don't think so," the wizard said. His eyes caressed the carvings on the monolithic stone, peeling past the shadows and noticing the carvings that suggested an offering of sorts. "Its a religious artefact, it doesn't proffer answers like the door did." He shrugged noncommittally; "But hitting things is always a viable option." @Crimson Jester

IC Stannis | Temple, Kumu "I am here, Grime," the Wanderer's bellowed, but despite the force in his voice there was no booming echo or reverberation within the chamber. Instantly, a chill sunk down his spine as he recalled the vivid experiences he had in the Far Shore and the battle fought in the bowels of his counterpart's fortress there. The floor was damp and soft to the foot, and while it was not mycelium like before but instead a carpet of mottled red and black it still produced the same effect. The similarities were all too poignant to ignore as this temple, too, was a fortress owned by another Aspect of Makuta--and, if the runes and histories were any indication, had indeed once very nearly achieved godhood in its own right. The scars from Great Spirit Caedast's duel were still fresh on his flesh, as were the lessons learned, and so Stannis trod carefully. "Meet at the obelisk!" he helpfully ordered to the others, unwittingly drawn subconsciously towards it and pulling the others along as well without realizing Korruhn was already there. @Gecko Greavesy @Crimson Jester

IE Temple of ???? + Door to Temple of ??? + Stannis | Kumu Upon Whisper's asking of the door, two symbols that hadn't indicated anything before glowed. One moment, Whisper was outside the temple, and the next she was inside the antechamber. On the inside of the door's threshold was a chamber, dark and warm like the insides of a living rahi's chest. A low, dim glow of red radiated from strange half-spheres that dotted the chamber like igneous cysts, glowing the way old coal chunks do as they gave off the final throes of light and heat before finally expiring to entropy. Whisper found herself floating at some indiscernible point inside, and her eyes could not seem to see the farthest reaches of the chamber. Sound seemed to vanish relatively quickly within, as though it got snared by some dampeners far before birthing echoes, and she could tell that the floor that felt wet with oil. Korruhn was off at some other point in the vast chamber. The only other thing she could sense was a monolithic presence ... no, an absence on a far end that stood five times taller than it was wide, and it beckoned to him like a well of gravity pulling satellites around it. An answer expressed itself in her mind, a note left by the door. "Who Built You?" a poem. To say I'm 'made of dreams' is not quite right, but hands that Build put me here. I'm a door, nothing more, a welcome mat on the path to see the Dream. Another pair of sigils came to life on the door, and in response Grime was whisked away as well. He appeared in a different place in the antechamber, different still from the others, and a poem came into his mind as well, planted by the strange portal's power. "Sing me a song, you're the doorman" a poem. See me? Hark! Sing a see-saw synth, skylark! Sync up! Syncopate—in C sharp! I'm a door, not a Post-It, but I tell you what! I'll flip a Quarter. After Grime passed through, Stannis spied around the darkness of the labyrinthine city of temples. Seeing nothing that stood out to him as a reason for concern, he turned to face the portal's runes and asked his question, in turn. "I have journeyed a long time to come to this place. It's not a pilgrimage, mind you—it's something more. I hope what I need is inside, for if it is not... the world will be cursed to be the same again. Praytell, good door, what is your name?" "Say my name" a poem. My maker was not the most creative; what's this grey door's name except... 'Doorian?' No voice called back out to him, at least not immediately. The monolithic presence simply stood abjectly, looming ever bigger yet no more threatening than before; it was, it seemed, simply a monolith. Upon some closer inspection on the block of inky stone that rose up high he could just barely discern inscriptions of faith and destruction. In it, people could be seen praying to a god of some kind, and all manner of things were seen being sacrificed on overturned bowls to the god's honor. Blood splatters were all over the base of the monument like red lichen, percolating up the flat sides of the monolith in a bizarre gory camouflage pattern such that it was hard to tell where the floor ended and the monolith rose up from the floor. Just then, the companions appeared in dull flashes of red like flares bursting to flame and then instantly being smothered. First one, then another in quick order, and finally a third after a few seconds of pause, each at different places in the vast chamber. Their footsteps were barely audible thumps, their words garbled gibberish muffled by the air, and a palatable electric sense of tension rose around them all.

IC Leklo | Airspace in Ambling Alp The former Alpinist wasn't buying it. "You showed me evidence of Stannis' place as an Aspect of Makuta and I believed, but you pose only conjecture of his bringing this creature about," he said, his tone low and critical. "That, I do not believe." He wasn't just an adventurer, of course--in his other life he was as much a scholar as any other Ko-Matoran, relying on facts of witnessed research and educated introspection. While not as set on scientific adherence as a Ga-Matoran was, his principles forbade him from assuming something simply by appearance alone. Facts needed to support a case, no matter how simple or farfetched they may be, and so Leklo, the poor, unfortunate man battered by unseen winds he could only feel by their flavors on his tongue, felt he could fully trust in one less hero then. In the absence of being able to place faith in anyone, he needed to believe in evidence. "Your theory is weak," he finally declared. "Oreius will find his airship--" "Found it." "--and then we will go to Kumu, but do not take this support as belief of your claims."

IC Leklo | Airspace in the Ambling Alp "Your evidence makes your statement," Leklo said, not sure what to do with the knowledge he was being given. It had to be true, of course—he'd seen Stannis perform unfathomable dark magic in the grove around Kini-Koro like pulling Oreius from thin air like a bunny from a hat, and the old wizard always seemed larger than life and omnipresent at times, it was like he possessed some power begotten from beyond a veil. Before they all arrived to this land called Zakaz he was without the context of an Aspect of Makuta, no label befitting the Wanderer's strangeness, but now that they came to understand the spirits of this place the former Alpinist couldn't help but contextualize his knowledge of the wizard again. Stannis was no mere wizard, he grasped, he was a djinn. He was not the warlock, he was the patron. "But wait one sec here, what does Stannis have to do with the Zivon? Like, how did he unleash this beast? That makes no d— sense."

IC Leklo | Airspace in the Ambling Alp The NUVA Proxima's eyes widened at the all-but-said implication. "Let me be ice-clear what I hear you telling me: You're telling me the you are an Aspect of Makuta and that the Wanderer, the Warmage, the champion of Faith, high priest of Mata Nui, paragon of the Matoran, Toa Stannis Maru is one also? Has this been the case always?" Oreius said nothing aloud but Parnassus could almost feel the reverberating chuckle in the firespitter's mind.