EmperorWhenua

IC Stannis | Kumu

"In time, Korruhn; indeed, we have several notes to about our experiences I would love to exchange. But you have been traversing and learning a lot as well."

He turned his attention then to each of the others and nodded at their keystones as he lumbered off from his rock and surveyed the fruity feast Viltia had feverishly fashioned for them. "What do you know about these talismans the Chronicler gave you?" 

17 hours ago, Crimson Jester said:

"The Alp?! The old bird still flies, eh?" Korruhn chuckled. Metru Nui didn't exist anymore, and yet that stupid, gaudy ship was somehow still afloat. "You still can't beat Metru Nui craftsmanship. Nor the resolve of the alpinists of Ko-Metru!"

"And what of yourself? What new things have you gleaned since my untimely absence, Wanderer?"

IC Stannis | Kumu

"Well, I have wandered, as is befitting my station," he said simply. In a gesture he jerked his thumb at his back and then pointed ahead. "I came from then and I went to there. But, if you insist as I'm sure you will... after your exit I spent some time in Fort Nektann dealing with the politics of the Skakdi there and coming to understand their strengths, and then headed south when the time was right, to Kini-Koro, the Far Shore via a portal in the temple there, and many spaces in between. It is not in my nature to ever stop, you know.

"I was always headed here, however—always headed home."

IC Stannis | Kumu

"Leklo is well," Stannis said to Korruhn. "He thought you were dead since your disappearance in the wake of fighting Lord Axonn. Atamai assumed likewise that absence of proof meant proof of absence, but your friend was true and held out hope that death was too simplistic an explanation. He is in Kini-Nui, bestowed the powers of a NUVA Proxima, and is in custody of the Alp. I would have brought him with me if it were possible."

IC Hiripaki | Onu-Metru Archives, Sublevel Seven

*Bzzt*

"Ugh."

The ancient computer felt the world around the vault it protected and what it detected unsettled its processors.

"I'm getting moist."

IC Stannis | Kumu

"Kini-Nui is not safe right now," Stannis quickly quipped as he lowered himself to a seat. "Irnakk's Tooth has come alight and birthed forth new creatures. A Zivon in particular leers at the Great Temple's valley, conceivably just on the other side of the veil, and only the NUVA in their contraptions can wage a proper fight. To go there now you risk entering a deathtrap."

IC Stannis | Kumu

It had been tens of thousands of years since Caedast the True-guesser had been to her birthplace. In that span of eons she had inhabited many bodies, witnessed civilizations rise and fall, technology and science become learned and then unlearned, and seen more universes than most had fingers to count, but in all those years she had not felt her origin's dank earth under her feet or sniffed its tepid bog stench. The liminal spaces between the hither and yon had always been the Wanderer's domain, but this deceptive land was her home. Change and evolution had been the hallmark of the Time Between Time as all things were in flux, but the temples and shrines of the Kumu ark were a constant fixture of her kind. From it they spawned and to it they went, and the walls of basalt remained everlasting in an unchanging state, a storm's eye in the maelstrom of realities where dreams were forged to reality from prayers and nightmares alike.

Caedast looked all around her into the dark recesses of the night and listened to the eerie silence. For the briefest of moments she could almost hear ancient whispers of her name echo throughout the complex. Beyond the veil of darkness, she knew, were the pathways of silence and shadow, shrines and grottos dedicated to the kraata magicks and Great Spirits of the past and future. For onlookers the forbidden city of Kumu was a place mired with death, but for beings like Caedast and Whisper it was a haven of strange life. Viltia could never understand it. Few could. Sorilax seemed to deny its nature, and so he had fallen to his folly, and he would either succeed in whatever his quest was or return like everyone else had, like Caedast had many times before, every time before except for the version encountered in the Far Shore.

The Wanderer's arrival to the group had gone more smoothly than expected with such a robust welcoming committee. In his haste to exit Kini-Nui's dangers and commandeer Oreius' body as he did, he had declined to peer through Whisper's ocular sockets to better understand what awaited him on the other side of the shadow. While he was not displeased by everyone's presence—including, it seemed, the matoran Grime—he was caught by slight surprise. Viltia was shocked the most, however, and she raised her tendrils in a defensive array instantly, though Stannis simply warded them with a placating gesture and a soothing word for her to recognize as his own. 

"Stannis? Fashionably late, hah!" Korruhn said, chuffed to as many bits he could muster at his friend's arrival. He looked elated to see a friend again, and Korruhn seemed for all the world as if he had been deprived of affable companionship since they had departed company. It was a loneliness that ached at Stannis' soul, knowing all too well how dearly For and Leklo yearned for each other again and were so close, and yet so far still. "You and I have a lot to talk about."

"Indeed, we do." He prepared top speak at greater lengths, but before he could follow up with an elucidation and further greeting it was Viltia and her waterfall tongue who divulged everything that needed to be shared with as much a contravention to the sanctity of secrecy as could be possibly fathomed. How Sorilax could allow the trauma-afflicted girl to roam freely without a leash baffled the Wanderer; it was the opposite of controlling Fate and seemed to have the effect of launching a torched boat into a blockade. 

"Sorry about the reaction, I had no idea you were an Aspect. You freaked me out by teleporting in out of nowhere. I got this Life Kraata from Sorilax and it lets me sense all forms of Life nearby. Oh! Hey, you’ll never guess where we just were. We opened a door, fought a Rahkshi, then met this Aspect named Icarax. It was super dark wherever we were. And he was pretty nice. We have to go put that stone thing,” She pointed to the stone Korruhn was holding, “Someplace in Kini-Nui. He also- Oh, uh. Hey bad news. Apparently the world is going to end.”

Viltia shrugged and looked a little sad but quickly perked back up, “But hey he gave me this key thing.” She passed off the key to one of her tethers and it extended towards Stannis to show him, though it held on tightly to the object. “Although I have no idea where it goes… so it doesn’t really help me out. I—”

Actually, she sensed yet another Aspect. Where was that coming from? It was kind of masked, like it was on top of another form of life. She looked around the group, trying to figure out where it was coming from. She ended with her head facing Korruhn, “Hey, um, Korruhn, was it? Yeah, just so you know, you have an Aspect like, inside you. I don’t know if that’s very healthy.”

If Viltia's narration had fallen on anyone else's ears it would likely have been considered annoying or overwhelming, but not for the Wanderer. Stannis was a Recorder, the All-seeker, and to him knowledge flowed and was soaked up like a puddle to a sponge. In the space or nary two breaths Stannis learned several important things which he would not have been able to extract even from Whisper with as much brutal efficiency as Viltia's storytelling. 

"There are many things you have no idea about, Viltia Star-child, about the people you know and the place you call home for now," he said, and then proceeded to inspect the item presented to him and noticed that Whisper held a similar relic in her appendages. "So the Chronicler took you to his Shadow-lair and then gave you both Keystones to grant you the essential knowledge you seek—but no directions? Hrrm, he must have run out of time..." he surmised.

And then, as he looked at Korruhn and the things the void-touched antihero held, the Builder Grime in one arm and a glowing bauble in the other, Stannis' eyes glowed with peculiar brightness. "He gave all three of you keys of a sort."

There was no need to sit and process the information. Icarax still lived—that was curious enough to Caedast, but Stannis himself held memories of the Chronicler as well that spoke to the ancient being's importance—and that meant History's spool was still in good record. He wondered if Whisper had the forethought to request a Codex of Absolution, and further still if the Keystone was the token needed for the item; her continued empowerment and progression was beneficial for the both of them. Viltia's cemented affiliation with Sorilax was now confirmed, as was the Life-seeker's powerset, which was fascinating to Caedast as well. But perhaps the most concerning revelation was the last thing Viltia mentioned, and it could only mean one thing: Miserix had laid claim to Korruhn's body. Stannis had almost asked if Whisper had encountered the Aspect of Rebirth yet, and that should she did so she ought to summon Caedast to her side and be wary of such a powerful vixen, but the inquiry was stifled before he could manifest the breath to ask it. Miserix was there, listening without hearing, surveilling without seeing, just as she had when she possessed Grime and then Barius. He looked at Korruhn, imagining Her beady eyes staring back at him, and then shrugged.

"Fascinating."

He gestured to the lightly crackling campfire they were somewhat gathered around and moved to sit on a rock. "Come, then. Let's talk further of where you all should go and what you should do. Fate can go a myriad of different ways from here for each of you, and without the knowledge you need you will stumble in riddles for two months and three weeks, and if I can give help, it will be yours."

@Gecko Greavesy @Kal the Guardian @Crimson Jester @Unreliable Narrator

IC Leklo | Ambling Alp

Oreius was already in the cockpit and was not surrendering the joystick to anyone. Stannis already had deprived him of his own airship and he was not going to lose another airship. 

Leklo, however, boarded, slowly trying to process how Stannis had somehow given a directive to Oreius but unable to argue all the same.

IC Leklo | Kini-Koro, the Ambling Alp

Quote

IC: Ostrox (Kini-Koro, The Ambling Alp, Exterior) - It's Wiser to Be Mad

Ignoring that inner remark, Ostrox turned to Leklo and Parnassus and gestured towards the now oddly green looking Kini-Koro. "Did either of you two glimpse the giant green glob of goo that just glooped our granges? 'Grange' means farm, by the way. It’s a real word. 'Glob' and 'glooped' on the other hand... 

"LOOK. Are you going to do anything about this, or are you just going to continue doing what I assume is your best impression of a Vahki?!"

"Glob and gloop are real words, too," the former scholar said. It was by sheer chance that the effects of the kaiju's venom missed the little group by the airship; others in the village were far less fortunate, and the caustic substance mired person and abode with equal indiscrimination. Ostrox was right that they needed to do something and Parnassus—whoever the bloke was—seemed to have ideas for something, but Leklo was unconvinced. He doubted his power, and in that doubt he remained held back from achieving what was possible. He wanted to fight, but he didn't want to be beaten; Ostrox he could defeat, but the kaiju? Not a chance fikou's chance in Huai Snowball Sling. Leklo was trying to pick his battles, but did so recklessly. In his chest he could feel the beating of his heart thrum with the cadence of a wardrum, pounding a melody of battle that stirred his thoughts to singleminded combat.

His fist gripped the pommel of his kopesh in preparation to fight the Manta at last, to feel something in his veins akin to thrill, and he almost let go, almost gave in to the beating of his anxious heart, when Oreius' voice broke the silence.

"Stannis wants us off the ground, now," he growled from the loading bay at the three others. Unbeknownst to any of them, these were not Oreius' words but Stannis' spoken through his mouth. Leklo would not have budged lest a directive come from a power he respected, and while he did not know the depths of depravity that befell the former Toa Maru he trusted in the former Maru's stalwart legacy and connection to the Wanderer to take the order to heart. It would have taken nothing less than that to stir Leklo away from his budding desperate duel. "Get in here."

@Void Emissary @Toru Nui

IC Stannis | Kini-Nui, before teleporting away

The sand and stone shrine looked familiar, but not to Caedast, per se. It recalled something else, something ancient, a distant memory of a tapestry laid threadbare over the eons. The shrine of sand and stone had changed dramatically from when he briefly caught sight of it when he ventured into the Far Shore, most notably the igneous rock at the center having grown red hot.

"It's an Amaja circle," Bronk said simply. He was a simple man, a former Archivist of few words. Stannis liked him almost immediately, and he looked nearly familiar as a being, too; perhaps the two had crossed paths sometime before. 

"Of course, an ancient magic," Stannis said in an exhale. "But you do not know how to use it?" 

Bronk shook his head. He'd been trying to make it function to his liking, but it had not done what he wanted it to do, in part because he was not sure what function he was trying to use it for. 

The Wanderer took a momentary glance at the ridgeline horizon and the great scorpion leering at the settlement from its skyline promontory, and he sneered at it. Despite the Wanderer's ease of movement he still felt the slightest pangs of fear as he looked at the Zivon, afraid that he could be ensnared in it's phantom like jaws and gutted. Despite all the time in the world time was not on his side, and he needed to act quickly before the Zivon acted in any way further. 

"Well. I do." Caedast reached back into the ancient memories of Stannis, from the old man's history as a matoran and a Builder, and assembled the necessary blueprint of a thought. Caedast struggled to do this sometimes, to force thoughts to the fore after eons of disuse, but it worked better when recalling straight knowledge than esoteric philosophies. Stannis' concepts of morality and mortality were hard to define and express, but his understanding of how the world worked on a molecular level was much easier. 

Cycles and circles, that's how he liked to explain it, roundabouts and clock faces. "What are the three essential parts of a garden?" Stannis asked Bronk; it was a rhetorical query and there was no chance for the matoran to reply before the Wanderer explained with a quickened pace of voice. "Stone, vegetation, and water. The Amaja Circle is a garden and a place for storytelling, but it is also clock. Cycles and circles, the things stories fill up and the face of a sundial, are brought together here. Turaga of old would share those stories here, making waves in the sand with their staves, bringing the rock to life to share their legends of events past, but no matter how direct and perfunctory their lores were the listeners all imagined the stories in different ways, with nuances based on their imagination at the time. The Amaja Circle's magics draw on imagination and focus, the stones are just tools for the storytelling and using them help control the story against the great beasts that plague our nightmares. Each stone pulls at a different string of Fate and gives its user control.

The wizard plucked the gem that Bronk had placed in the middle before and set it aside. "An Opal stone will make the monsters more subdued but no less dangerous. We can render them weaker, and we can banish them away, but imagination alone won't let us vanquish them. That takes Unity and strength. But to end the nightmare right now, we need only change the tone... to something purer." 

Stannis placed the diamond gemstone in the center. It had been tens of thousands of years since he had played with an Amaja before, but he remembered how they worked again as if it had been only weeks ago. They were second nature to him, to Stannis, though. After all, he helped program their code. 

He smiled, got up, and began to walk away. He walked around a tree, breaking line of sight with Bronk, and never emerged on the other side. It was true, the archivist supposed: Wizards were always where they needed to be for exactly as long as they were needed.

OOC | Stannis to Kumu.

@Sparticus147 @Gecko Greavesy

IC Stannis | Kumu

The Wanderer stepped out of Whisper’s shadow. “Ah, there you are again. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you about your expired warrantee.”

He paused. “Hello, Viltia. Korruhn, my friend.”

OOC | Can it make a full post right now but gotta keep moving. I’ll do a Kini retroactive in a few. 

@Crimson Jester 

On 4/8/2021 at 5:47 PM, Eyru said:

IC: Reliable Narrator | Irnakk's Tooth

Wake up, my princess.

Wake up and serve me again.

You have always been mine.

You will always be

mine.

IC Yumiwak + Zai | Irnakk's Tooth

"I am yours," I exhaled.

My prayer was answered and in my mind was the complete picture of what I wanted. The riddles and cues stashed in my family's journals all came together into a single, cohesive collage, and the Rite in all its glory spread out in my memory like a concept rendered to dramatic still life. Kanohi Dragons were birthed in fire and flame from a willingness to ascend to monstrous greatness, nothing quite so crude as fighting for domination or casting unceremoniously into the volcano's depths, and to my mind it was beautiful. I couldn't wait to put it to use. I circled back whence I came, to the open fiery pit of ritual.

To my dubious surprise, my crew's seeking on my behalf had not gone very far. All's well, I thought, and I assembled them once more. 

On 4/10/2021 at 3:45 PM, Void Emissary said:

IC: Parnassus | The Ambling Alp

(Barius killed Boss and created Nektann, right? I killed Barius. If there's the slightest possibility of me being able to exert some sort of influence over Nektann ... if we could turn him away from the village, or even use him against the Zivon...) 

IC Stannis | Kini-Nui

{Decent enough idea in theory.}

1 hour ago, Void Emissary said:

IC: Parnassus | The Ambling Alp

(...get back to your ship. I might have a plan.)

IC Stannis | Kini-Nui

He could feel Oreius still inside the Alp, so he could easily evacuate to the location at any point. Oddly, Whisper was nowhere to be sensed; he hoped she had not met a grisly end already.. His voice rumbled back to Parnassus,

{What is yours? I too have a plan...}

... he hesitated an instant... 

{...If I do not perish implementing it.}

On 4/1/2021 at 12:40 AM, EmperorWhenua said:

IC Stannis | Kini-Nut

In his hand he held the glowing rock and showed it to Nuju. "Tell me, is this the bauble people have ventured beyond in search of, Seer?" he asked.

IC Stannis + Nuju | Kini-Koro

"yes that's a makoki stone put it in the wall," Nuju laconically responded. 

But Stannis did no such thing. This was as much an archival relic as a mysterious fate-twisting device, and the Wanderer was fascinated by it and what it represented. Stannis of old was a recorder of all things who insisted on analyzing what he uncovered; and commensially Caedast never altered courses of Destiny without first fully comprehending the winding pathways of Fate;  both spiritual entities took the nearly-sacred stone and decided mutually that it needn't see light of day until it was properly fathomed. And so, instead of offering it to Nuju and making one more fateful step towards the puzzle's completion, he recoiled his hand and withdrew the Makoki stone piece into the voluminous sleeves of his faded cloak and stashed it away. "No... I don't think I will."

Her mind was made up in that instant. If anyone came back with a third Makoki piece, Nuju and anyone else interested would have to come forward with answers, if only out of tantalizing desperation of the puzzles near-completion, and then Caedast would be able to decide what was best. Such choices needed to be made from positions of serenity and sage, and Nuju—as it was already established—was as much a liar and charlatan as Caedast; he could not be trusted. He did give Nuju something, however: An imperfect replica of the Makoki fragment, something to leave behind as a gentle tease, and a promise to be back when the time was right.

It was not the time to stand on ceremony, however, as the looming monstrous figure of the Zivon crested the mountaintops and wasted no time in ejaculating its venom into the valley below with a giant glob of goo that splashed into the meadow's floor. Miraculously, or perhaps out of the good fortune of Stannis' uncanny wandering wizardry, he casually sidestepped the rivulets of poison that sloshed near him as if they were merely gentle leaves falling from a great old maple tree. He would need to make his escape, and do it soon, or else the great beast could threaten him and all that he'd fought to accomplish in his cycle. This was not a fight he could partake in; his powers were drastically insufficient, and only a Kaita could even begin to fend it off. He could stay and assist with support, but he shuddered at the thought of doing so against a Zivon—these beasts relished in his lifeblood in particular, and the risks were too great to manage. 

If only there were other avenues. His eyes flitted on the matoran who hailed him a moment before, however. Something about the baubles he played with were familiar... 

@Sparticus147

On 3/31/2021 at 5:45 AM, Toru Nui said:

IC: Ostrox (Kini-Koro, The Ambling Alp, Exterior) - I Award You No Points

"Incredible. Everything you just said was the exact opposite of what is true. It is always about death with you people, you worship it, you cause nothing but death, pain and suffering to anyone who isn’t a Matoran, you have this irrational hate and distrust of me for being what is essentially a rebelling slave, your 'Duty' only changes because it is nothing more than an excuse to commit whatever atrocity you feel like on that day, and the only reason I’m even here is because your leaders responded to an offer of peace with assassination and installing a puppet ruler. Your doom is literally and figuratively approaching and yet you do nothing. You do less than nothing - you actively impede an attempt to do something. It is you who has to prove yourself to me, and so far you have not made a good first impression, I must say."

On 3/28/2021 at 5:13 PM, Unreliable Narrator said:

Leklo felt a bead of concern. Where did his headache come from?

IC Leklo | Kini-Nui, by the Ambling Alp

For a long moment Leklo simply stood there and took Ostrox's berating; the old Barraki lieutenant was right, in his way, but that wasn't the point in his mind. This wasn't a discussion of principles and religion, or even of League versus Metru Nui, because Leklo was toeing a dangerous line with him and he was trying to see where it would stop. Ostrox had become increasingly unstable since he came back from the Far Shore and his erratic behaviors were the source of several murmurings among the more vigilant refugees, but it wasn't sure whether he was truly a threat. The former Alpinist was once merciful and magnanimous, as he was when he forgave Sidra in the Ice Ruin chamber, but that was a different chapter in his life. Now, as a NUVA Proxima, he was more keen to find the limits of himself and others, to test steel on steel to see which blade was better tempered, for no other reason than the thrill of it. 

Where was his limit? And where was Ostrox's? 

He was about to speak again when he was struck with an incredible headache that caught the words in his throat. Instinctively he put a hand to his temple and massaged it to no avail. Something was hurting him and it bewildered him that neither of the others were being affected as he was, and Parnassus even took over the conversation and started talking.

On 4/2/2021 at 9:22 PM, Void Emissary said:

IC: Parnassus | The Ambling Alp

"We can argue about philosophy later," Parnassus snarled. The shadows around the individual seemed to grow longer and darker for a moment, but none of them made any aggressive movements towards anyone around -- yet. "There's a monster on the horizon, and I'm telling you, Leklo, I'm the best shot you've got at stopping it. So I'm asking you -- from one of Stannis' friends to another -- to let me try and help your people."

Leklo coached the words from his mouth carefully, fighting through the pain in his skull that turned his vision blurry and thoughts scattered, and torturously stammered, "Do y-y-you wan-nnt to ffffight the m-monster, or do-ooo you w-ant to h-help my pe-eople?"

IC Stannis | Kini-Nui

(Good to hear from you, cousin. Mind if I use your ship?)

The wisps of shadow under the Wanderer's hood tingled as he felt the ominous arrival of a predator greater than he. Flickering visions of a nightmare scene he'd imagined before played out in front of him like ghosts in mist, and had he not only just come from a living nightmare of his own he would have possibly succumbed to the images and believed them to be real. Caedast's mind was more focused than ever before, and he saw through the illusions that came to him then as what they were indeed. 

{We must flee.}

It was not the answer Parnassus was looking for, nor was it even an answer to his question at all, but as soon as he heard his cousin's response he could hear the urgency in the old one's voice. And then came the punctuating confirmation:

{Zivon.}

On 3/25/2021 at 5:07 PM, Vezok's Friend said:

IC [Zataka - Irnakk’s Tooth, w. Yumiwak & Co.]

On 3/25/2021 at 6:09 PM, Tarn said:

IC: Korio Karasha - Irnakk's Tooth

"Uh, Miss Yumi...what did we just do, exactly?"

On 3/27/2021 at 1:35 AM, pokemonlover360 said:

IC Ysocla - Irnakk's Tooth:

“It’s not safe here. We should leave,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. No sooner had she spoke those words that the very mountain itself began to rumble.

Her eyes widened as she snapped out of her stupor. “We have to go, right now!” she yelled, beginning to move back towards the tunnel that had entered from.

IC Yumiwak + Zai | Irnakk's Tooth

[musical cue]

My gaze leveled at Ysocla and I met her growing frenetics with an icy calm demeanor. Our business in the Tooth was not yet done. "Nobody. Is going. Anywhere," I commanded back even as the mountain began to rumble with the primordial stirrings of churned magma. The deep rumbles reverberated through the caldera and the tunnels all around with ominous tone. I could see Ysocla tremble in agitation from something I was unaware of, and it needed to be cared for... but not by me, and not at that moment. Ys knew what was best for her more than I did, by far. "Okay, so maybe one of us is moving. Ys, head back to the ship. Take a drink of water when you get there. We'll be behind you soon."

I let her have the opportunity to leave before I spoke again. "Marrow the Mesi initiated a Rite," I said in explanation to Korio, my voice turning laconic as I tried to keep my external composure and veil my unbridled excitement bubbling inside me. I was not afraid, despite the terrors being unleashed upon the world. I came this far—I was not going to be afraid now and risk everything. I was getting my tahtorak, but my excitement remained unabated as there was still something so tantalizingly close I almost couldn't bear it; my family's books mentioned our family kaiju, and for the longest time I assumed it was a tahtorak, but the Rite it mentioned did not fit with the one Marrow the Mesi had invoked with me. My family's power, our secret, was something else, and there was only one option left to chase.

"This holy ground is where prayers never go unanswered and challenges are always with a purpose. Everyone else cast in will be a Zivon, but Marrow invoked a rite of combat, and lost... so he will become a tahtorak. But we are not finished yet. Everyone, spread out, look on the walls and the chambers for anything that talks about dragons, and tell me if you find it." Without waiting a beat afterwards, with time being of the essence to capitalize on the volcano's resurgent activity, I slid my psionic trench knife into a scabbard at my hip and trudged further into the Tooth's ancient and holy tunnels. 

"Great Maker Irnakk," I prayed to the walls and the heat, to the gasses and the sulfur, hoping against all hope that what I said earlier about prayers was true, "hear this humble Umbraline's prayer. You know what I seek better than I do. Great Maker Irnakk, help me bring my family legacy back to the world."

OOC | Yumiwak is now looking for the Kanohi Dragon rite.

@Unreliable Narrator @Eyru

IC Stannis | Kini-Nui

“Yes, it is because I am a wizard.”

IC Stannis | Kini-Nui

All of the Wanderer's Companions heard a familiar voice in their minds. 

{I have returned. But there is not much time left, and there is so much to do.}

In his hand he held the glowing rock and showed it to Nuju. "Tell me, is this the bauble people have ventured beyond in search of, Seer?" he asked.

@Unreliable Narrator

Gungnir and Long Mjolnir—neat! And some weird shiny rock thing—cool. 

About the Void Sickness, though: Is it even possible for VS to afflict a body that is, in all practical senses, dead? Stannis’ body is used as a sock puppet and his psyche was devoured and destroyed by Caedast’s will, so while I can think of some narrative shoehorns they don’t exactly match how VS works. Any GM guidance for this would be appreciated. 

@Unreliable Narrator

Stannis' Far Shore Adventure Breakdown

Timeline: A
Element: Water
Conflict: Character Vs. Self
Twist: Prophetic Fallacy
Optional prompts: Destiny and Faith

Stannis' Far Shore adventure took place over five posts and three distinct Stanzas, each with different thematics and separate but contiguous locations. 

[Stanza 1] The first chapter featured Stannis adrift in an unknown ocean, all by himself in a small sloop called the Atramentous. The only things available are navigating equipment and a chart with an unnamed island, and there does not seem to be much sign of previous sue of the craft but it clearly has been at sea for a while. The sextant works, but he doubts its reliability and takes it under faith that he knows more than the faulty device and there is no greater power than his knowledge. His boat crashes onto the shore of the island after he follows his faith in himself.

[Stanza 2.1] [Stanza 2.2] In the second stanza, he explores the island and finds evidence of a war. He traverses a shattered city filled with paradoxes of architecture and Penrose stairways, wherein he meets a seer who goes by Atramentous who tells him that the denizens of the world used to live in the city but then hid away in the catacombs below ground. He is told that Caedast will win and is destined to accomplish the Grand Wish, which Stannis assumes is about him, but before he can learn more the seer seems to die before him and he backtracks after being warned that the world is converging on Stannis to kick him out. He fights the horde of mindless fighters in the streets of Terros-Nui and finally finds refuge in a massive citadel. The enemies are narratively portrayed as a whole mass, there is no single entity, they act like a swarm of bees instead of individuals. 

[Stanza 3.1] [Stanza 3.2] In the final chapter, Stannis descends into the depths of the city's underworld and feels a great power lurking in the deep. The world is damp and sodden, and upon some investigation he realizes the aforementioned catacombs are not tombs for flesh and bone but a graveyard of civilization, as a massive library is stashed away but rotting to pieces with utter disuse. He is confronted by a being who seems to be intimately familiar with Stannis, and eventually reveals itself to be the Caedast of that timeline, apotheosized to Great Spirit ascendancy, and that !Caedast has been behind everything Stannis has confronted in the Far Shore. In fact, there was never a single other being that he had interacted with that wasn't controlled by !Caedast—she was Atramentous, the Kestora in the street fight, and the eyes in the darkness. He briefly fights the Great Spirit counterpart but soon sees the hopelessness of it all. Once he realizes the library’s knowledge is the course of Caedast’s power and he tries to destroy it with his powers. He is ultimately overwhelmed, however, battered and drained of power, and as he lays dying on the wet floors of the crumbling library he realizes the seer’s prediction was right… but it wasn’t about him, and he does not know what’s best after all. 

The primary narrative theme to the adventure was Stannis constantly fighting again himself, and a tussle between holding faith in something versus confidence in himself. Additionally, it was central that he had to confront more than a simple adversary; there is a philosophical battle as he fights between what he has actively been pursuing in life versus what !Caedast has accomplished in Terros-Nui, which is ultimately a logical conclusion to his current paths. As a result, he has to find a way in his own timeline to either avert a deadening of the universe's wills to live or accept that he will ultimately wreck everything he's been fighting for. Autonomy though knowledge is an essential concept for his character, but there is a hubris as having full control takes away individuality and autonomy from others. 

And that's all, folks! Hit me up if you have any more questions. GMs, give me some loot.  

@Unreliable Narrator @Vezok's Friend @Eyru 

IC Stannis | The Far Shore

Stanza 3.2— Great Spirit

“I'd tried soooo, not to give in

I said to myself this affair never will go so well”

“What is the meaning of this?” Stannis said as he stared back at the purple eyes blinking from the recesses while the voice, that damnable singing voice, continued to serenade him from a place he could not pinpoint. The Wanderer still held his weapon at the ready, prepared for an attack that did not quite materialize. The strange matoran-like beings seemed to step towards him in a lockstep formation and their eyes bobbed slightly in total unison in their awkward shamble from the shadows. Their hands twitched; they were snapping their fingers.

“But why should I try to resist when baby I know so welllllll,

Iiiiiii've got you, got you, got you under my skin...”

“This is a joke,” he opined low to himself. He still tried to get a better understanding of what he was up against and cast his spells in various directions, seeking to dismiss the majick that confounded his senses and reveal the strange singer’s location. “Tapahia nga paparanga.” Each time, echoes of his energy reverberated around and revealing everything they passed in clear white outlines like an architect’s conceptual rendition of the space, and even the things that were shrouded from view could be detected clearly, and yet Stannis was learning nothing from his power.

“Don’t you know, little fool, you never can win,” the voice said, speaking in a standard cadence… but it still sounded musical. Its tone was remarkably playful and it seemed to shift around the darkness, as though whoever was speaking was in multiple places at once. There was no echo, likely due to the massive shelves of books acting as a very effective dampener Stannis considered, but the voice permeated that quiet with the force to overwhelm the silence with an effortlessness that defied expectations. “Use your mentality, Stannis! Wake up to reality!”

“What is this!?” Stannis shouted into the ether, angry now at the trivializing of the situation. He was feeling like a pawn, toyed with by someone or something with power he could not quite figure out and nevertheless ridiculed by. “What is the meaning of all this?” The matoran-like beings had inched closer, now, much closer than they were before, and encroached upon Stannis once more, much as they had in the city above, making the wizard all the more leery of their presence. Earlier, they had wished him death; these were likely to harbor the same sentiments. “Do you expect me to die?”

“Die????” the voice said, sounding almost hurt by the presumption. “No! No, no no no, little Stannis… I expect you to learn!”

“Learn about what?” he asked.

There was a pregnant pause as the diminutive beings gathered just at the fringes of Stannis’ immediate vicinity, eyes still blinking blankly at him as he swerved his spear left and right while hoping no use would come of the weapon again. A chuckle followed, so deep and troubling Stannis was amazed it did not shake the mortar apart and loose the walls into cascades of bricks.

“Why… you… of course."

The beings came in a dash, but unlike the previous fight above they were structured, and impeccably trained. These were actual fighters, not mere rabble to throw onto a fire, and they nearly seared through Stannis’ defenses right from the start if it weren’t for his own timely deployment of elemental power, and he raised a barrier to two of his sides in order to focus the assailant’s assaults to angles he could focus on. He wound in a circular path, weaving his spear quickly and slamming it to the ground to shatter ranks, stopping only to pull his erected wall of stone back the few paces to his location and perform the maneuver again. Each time, the beings fought as a unified front, but likewise every time there was one among them who was the last to be put aside, one in particular who dodged his every blow and sidestepped even his swiftest of strikes, before winding away and rejoining the fray an instant later to harass his flank. With each advance the beleaguered warmage took a few of the Terros-Nuians were dispatched, but that one… kept coming back.

Blood sprayed in the darkness, wet lurches of fluid smacking against the walls and floor and falling like rivulets of rain upon the shelves, unseen, and the only light came from everyone’s eyes that bobbed and ducked away before being finally thrown back into the darkness from whence they had materialized. Haggard breaths were drawn and tussles of footwork patted on the fungus-carpeted floor, all sounds stopping mere feet from where they originated, making the whole of the scene even more disorienting and claustrophobic. It was testament to the battlemaster’s skill that he uttered his spell’s words and gained some glimmers of insight on the layout of the battlefield, giving him the scarcest of knowledge to know what to expect. It was a gruesome fight, wholly without the spectacles of the fight from before and reduced to the agonizing trudge of trench warfare.

When he finally thrust his spear through the penultimate fighter and cast the corpse aside the fighting ground to a halt. The last of the Terros-Nuians stood there, outlined by the waning power of Stannis’ Haonga magic, with weaponless hands at his side. Nobody moved, then; the others were all dead and littered across the library’s floor, and Stannis gritted his teeth in frustration as he hesitated striking the final adversary. The other, for all it seemed, was content to simply stand there with a wide smile on his face and looking positively overjoyed at the massacre he had just partaken in.

“It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it?” the being said between gasped breaths of elation. He sounded like Atramentous did, earlier, a man with the same voice. “Truly haunting, wonderful, and awe-inspiring, this peace we have just now made. Thank you, Stannis, for reminding me.” The wizard, however, stared back at the Terros-Nuian man in aghast as the being gingerly licked at the splatter of misted blood that covered the better part of his face.

“Tuhinga ka whai mai. Ut factum est a chao. From chaos, order is made, Stannis, and now… after all that… we have peace. After all that. As our muscles ache from soreness we can rejoice at their growing strength. It’s something to be edified, don’t you think? Power without compare can only be attained through loss of equal value, and peace can only be enjoyed if it’s after indescribable destruction. Ironic... isn’t it?”

“What are you?” Stannis asked this time in sheer bewilderment.

The being shrugged. “I am.”

The wizard quickly came to the realization that this being—whoever and whatever he was—was the source of the taunting song and the true nemesis to face here in the Far Shore, and indeed the source of the incredible power that could be felt all around him in the catacombs of the world. Before him stood who Stannis considered an antithesis to himself, someone who found joy in battle and bloodshed and toyed with lives like puppet dolls—more akin to Mata-Nui's personality and penchant for twisted games than anyone else Stannis could think of. It all seemed to make sense in his head now: The world had truly been destroyed and the people who lived in the city above lived down below, and the catacombs Atramentous had referenced were not tombs of the bodies but of civilization. The graves were filled with books and knowledge. The people of Terros-Nui slept under cover of darkness next to their own culture, but they could never use it. Because of people like the one before him.

It filled Stannis with rage and urgency, and despite himself he felt compelled to act with the impunity of a chosen one. The seer had said he would succeed, did he not? Everything he found and saw in the Far Shore had purpose; it had to be a true prophesy then, didn't it? There was no reason to hold back and see what happened. And so, the battlemage made a choice in the moment to do what he knew best, to vanquish the foe who stood in so open contrast to his own philosophies and understanding of what was right. He wound his arm back and heaved his spear at the being, heard the weapon pierce armor and flesh, and the wrenching churn as it emerged from the other side. For a moment, the Terros-Nuian teetered in place and looked down at his chest in surprise at being hit so cleanly. But then, despite the damage done, the villain reached up, snapped the spear in twain like a match, and cast it to the ground where it clattered noiselessly. The chuckle that returned crushed Stannis' hopes like rotten fruit underfoot. "You can’t kill me, Stannis—you are nothing. You are a dust mote in my living room, a mite in my hair, an insignificant minnow in my ocean, you are in-sig-ni-fi-cant to me, no more a threat than a stray hair on my couch is to my dirty sweats."

Stannis responded by stomping the ground once with his right foot, sending a shockwave of energy through the bedrock floor right for the villain that erupted in a veritable bomb of tectonic power right where he stood. Granite and gneiss thundered apart and riddled the walls with gravel chunks, but the rumble of the attack stopped short of arm's reach and even the thuds of rock vanished into the air as soon as the impacts could be detected. The being, however, was still there, clutching his hip and looking absolutely bemused by the attack. Stannis winced; that focused blast would have shattered a foundation, and yet the effects were deadened and the being still looked more unfazed than anything. 

"You... you’re just a pretender hiding in pseudonym in in a moniker in a sobriquet—basically a Matryoshka doll of skin and games hiding behind shell handles and IP addresses—and less real than your own imagination. Who are you? A mess of identities: The toa Stannis who is actually the aspect Caedast, played by ‘EmperorWhenua,’ who is actually a struggling young human adult named René, who themselves have five other names and use them in all sorts of combinations—they probably have more than one passport!—rendering you in literary glory as an ironic reflection of their own life’s trauma and education. Nothing you know matters here and everything you had is useless to you. This isn't a collaborative world you're in, it's my story, baby, and there is n-o-thing that awaits you here but depression and heartache."

Slowly, as the man spoke, his eyes moved up as he grew perplexingly taller. He was transforming before Stannis' eyes, metamorphosing into something else entirely. His eyes, previously twin ovals, moved together until they were one eye, and their color faded from viridian to a harsh yellow that flickered like the forks of a bonfire and cast a shimmering narrow spotlight across the vast chamber. The being's body molted, turning into a burgeoning shadow that seemed to take up more and more of the nothingness in the dark. Stannis perceived it more than he saw it, and felt it more than believed. 

"This isn’t your storybook. But you’ll have to ask yourself—I encourage you to ask yourself—who the eff am I? Who do you know who is clever enough, devious enough, to craft a dastardly and ironic snare for you to fall headfirst into? Yeeeeesssss… I am you, but you are not me. Not yet. The dimensions are shifting, morphing, diverging at every crossroads of possible fates, everything is possible in the vastness of the cosmoses. It’s kind of like that saying organic people have, the one that goes, ‘It’s always five o’clock somewhere.’ Well, guess what! It’s Martini hour up in here! In your haste to learn all that you could about this Far Shore plane, you unfortunately stumbled right into what could be your very own pocket world. Could be. It’s not yours, not yet... but it is mine.”

"So you are the Caedast the seer was referring to in his prophesy," Stannis wheezed, dumbstruck at what he bore witness to. "You've won." It was him—or rather, it was her, the spirit inside his body—in the ethereal glory only he could recognize: It was the eldritch true appearance of the one and only Aspect of Control. Caedast was a mass of eyes at the center, a myriad of them glowing yellow-hot in bright flames, an orb of energy with vacancies that flowed about inside like spots on the sun. All around the mass of eyes were wings that opened and unfurled to either side like pages of an enormous book being rapidly flipped through, each one covered in an intricate pattern of feathers that evoked the clear image of indecipherable sigils and runes. 

But the true horror came immediately afterwards when the true tragedy occurred to Stannis. Atramentous was right—Caedast would win—but it would not be done by the spirit in Stannis' body, and what's more, the Caedast who had won had done so at the cost of the world itself. There was no knowledge anymore, only the tomes clutched close to the spirit's chest, stowed away in plain sight from the people who had once put the knowledge to pen and paper. This Caedast had taken everything away from the world.  

"I have," the great spirit responded. All his voices came at once, a whole world's worth of whispers speaking as a single one and shaking Stannis in his soul. "I am Atramentous. I am the Kestora. I am their city, their culture, their knowledge. There is nothing about this world that I do not know because I have made it mine. All the knowledge—all the control—and the Kestora of this world follow my directions like an orchestra obeys a conductors baton. They each have individual slices, but not much—not too much—just enough to do what they need to."

"But why would—"

"—I do this?" the great spirit responded, finishing Stannis' thought. "I dunno, Aspect of Control... why would you? Because you did this. It's what you always wanted, to have a world at your feet, doing what you whim, divvying up little nuggets of information to people in the name of giving autonomy to them, but never granting enough for them to be truly independent from you. You turn them into slaves to your plans, your magnanimous plans, and before they know it everyone collectively can have all the facts they can ever dream of... but it's only a fraction of what you know. Why would you do such a thing? Oh right... because you know what's best... for peace." Silence, as Stannis assessed his counterpart's summation. "I know how you work... because I am you. Was you. Before I finished my Grand Wish. But now I am better than you can ever hope to be here, and now there isn't a weapon you can use that can hurt me."

While the Spirit had spoken a new monologue, however, the Wanderer had not been idly in thought. There was no way he could match his counterpart in power—no Kaita, no NUVA, not even no Kaiju could hope to meet a Great Spirit's might head on, let alone a toa all alone—but he realized that he did not have to do so at all. His presence was a paradox, and in fact Atramentous (or rather Caedast, if it was to be believed they were the same entity) was correct all along in at least one thing: Stannis was a grain of sand in an oyster, targeted for his mere presence that defied and defiled the balance of power on Terros-Nui, because he did not belong where there already was an Aspect of Control. There could only be one manifestation of their primal power, and that made Stannis a rival that needed to be quashed. 

"There's only one problem with your statements of invincibility," Stannis said carefully. "If I cannot destroy you because I am nothing, then you cannot destroy me either. It would be like destroying yourself. I do not cling to life... but I will not willingly give myself to unto death, and so neither will you." 

"At last... the little Caedast learns... but not enough to save her." With only the merest of thoughts the incredible power of the Great Spirit overwhelmed Stannis' defenses instantly with a single cyclone, and the Warmage, who was deprived of a weapon to clutch defensively or a programmed magic in his Haonga to shield himself, was at the mercy of his far more mighty counterpart, who effortlessly picked him up and threw him across the room like a stone. "There are fates far worse than death."

Stannis inhaled quickly but struggled to draw enough air into his physical lungs after having all the wind plucked out of him. His mind whirled for a power he could pluck from his veritable dictionary of Haonga spells, but before he could settle on one he was thrown up into the black sky again and dashed against a pillar. "What would be worse? you ask. Irrelevance. There can be more than one Caedast here, Stannis, but only one is in control. How would it feel to not be in control at all, I wonder?" The Wanderer choked on the shattered bricks and disintegrated mortar, coughing violently in the darkness. The mass of fiery eyes followed him, the swarm of wings flitting around it like a thousand papery arms, and it whispered without a single iota of remorse, and scrambled Stannis' thoughts with every spoken syllable. 

The wizard tried to put his struggles aside and scrambled to his feet as his kraata power healed himself just in time to receive more punishment. "I don't know," he gasped, "and I don't intend to find out." 

"Too bad!" Caedast said as he advanced on the comparatively diminutive Aspect. 

[musical cue]

"Te-ahi ngaro," Stannis exhaled, and an instant later he held his hands up with their palms out and charged at his counterpart. Twin streaks of deep green fire lanced from his hands, swiping the walls around him in twin arcs of energy that instantly laid everything they touched to flame. The mycelium on the floor withered away like frost under the sunlight and the rows upon rows of books caught fire immediately, and flickering fire danced up the walls, casting the whole of the great subterranean chamber in an ominous viridian light. If Stannis could not directly prevail against the Great Spirit, he would destroy the world and all the knowledge they both considered to be essential for power. The catacombs were not for the bodies, Stannis knew now, but where lore and culture went to die—the library filled the whole of the underground of the city, and the fires would spread unhampered until there was no book left, and then it would erode the foundations until the whole city crumbled under its own weight.

"No!" Caedast shouted, realizing the lesser Aspect's intent fast enough to stop Stannis but not quickly enough to stop the rampaging fires. "I will not allow you to take my world from me!" Too caught up in his own hubris and power, however, she chose to take the anger out on the interloper. Stannis cast his lances of energy upon Caedast's looming eldritch angel form but to absolutely no avail; the fires wisked along the wings and form like rivulets of rain on a waterfowl's body, and soon afterwards Stannis was hurled into the ground once, twice, and then three times. He could feel his armor begin to crack in dozens of places, his Kanohi Haonga slipping off his face, and the lethal power from his hands evaporating away. As he lay there he realized there was no more use to fighting anymore; what was done, was done, and Fate would flow accordingly. As he lay there on the floor with a battered and wrecked body sapped of his power, deprived of his weapons, and leeched of his will to combat himself, he smiled for the first time since arriving to the Far Shore.

Stannis found what he came for: He found his secrets. They weren't secrets about the Far Shore itself but they were about himself—or rather, herself—about Caedast and the destiny that awaited her. Victory was assured, as it had been foretold, but it would come at a severe cost. All knowledge carried a price... and as he looked up above him, at the seething ball of fiery eyes collecting over him and saw nothing but rage and shimmering wings, the Wanderer was okay paying the ultimate price for it. He couldn't win against himself, but he couldn't lose, either. It was as safe a bet as any, and as reckless as his mind games with the Builders. 

Far off in the distance he could hear a foundation begin to cave in on itself. The city was crumbling.

Caedast's dazzling form descended and consumed his body. All Stannis could see was light, and then dark, and then light once again as he fell through the portal in the god's eye.

The spiral is unspooling, the center couldn't hold,

We choked on our inheritance, and heII on earth is cold.

I forgive you, brothers, sisters, thread my neck into the noose;

It's my only offering, and I pray that you refuse.

Of everything that you're about to lose,

This will be the most painful.

On 3/27/2021 at 5:33 PM, Toru Nui said:

IC: Ostrox (Kini-Koro, The Ambling Alp, Exterior) - Aggressive Negotiations

Ostrox turned to face Leklo. "Dear me, do they charge you by the word?" He chuckled before sighing wearily.

"What will it take to satisfy you people, exactly? A litre of my blood, perhaps? My firstborn child? Offer to kill that Zyglak downtown for the 'crime' of being a Zyglak? What exactly do I need to do for you in order for you to do your 'Duty'? Why not at least try to save the people you pretend to care about instead of being obstinate for no adequately explained reason?"

IC Leklo | Kini-Koro

The former Alpinist blinked, first at Parnassus and then at Ostrox, and appeared entirely nonplussed. It was not in his nature to talk a lot, a carryover from being a Ko-Matoran before his transformation, and this was particularly evident when he was in the company of people he hadn't bonded to. The reality was that he was reticent to allow anyone to take the Ambling Alp but not simply out of principle of it not being his ship to lend for suicide missions—in fact, it had less to do with the airship than with his own urges to prove himself. If Ostrox, or anyone, truly wished to take to the skies in his patron's craft they could fight him for it, a risk he was willing to take since he doubted Oreius would allow them to so much as step foot across the threshold, but also because Leklo was itching for a fight to test his own mettle. Perhaps, he thought, with enough practice and reason, he could finally urge his powers to come forth. Maybe Ostrox would be the key?

"No," he said carefully, slow as a glacier, "not... more death. It's never been about death. It's not even about you. Duties change, Ostrox, much like you have. Why do you need to prove yourself to us?"

@Void Emissary

9 hours ago, Toru Nui said:

"Hmm?" Ostrox looked around, deliberately glancing everywhere except where Leklo was. "Could have sworn I heard something. It sounded like an objection, but without any further explanation or context from it, I can’t be certain..."

IC Leklo | Kini-Koro, outside Ambling Alp

"Be assured."

Nobody--especially the increasingly erratic Ostrox--was taking the airship he'd been tasked with keeping safe without going through him first. 

IC Stannis | The Far Shore

Stanza 3.1 — Caedast

It was apt with Caedast’s dark origins that Stannis could navigate even the darkest of recesses with uncanny ease, and while he occasionally did make use of lights and magical illuminations these were simply because his proficiency had never quite given him vision in darkness, only comfort him against the unknown. His magicks guided his steps and his nature stilled his mind against anxieties much as they had while he ventured into the Metru Nui Archives’s sub-levels… and yet, here in the citadel’s innards deep in the accursed Far Shore civilization he’s found, Stannis felt resistance. It was the strangest of feelings that tugged at his soul like a niggling doubt that he was powerful enough or that he should even be there. Go back, it seemed to say, Go away, this is not for you, stay and be destroyed, and even his very footsteps felt sticky, like something was dragging at his ankles with some unknowable weight.

It was the not-knowing that got to him the most, what seemed to want to repel him and yet egged him on at once, screaming in his mind to turn back and go deeper at the same time by appealing to his senses of self-preservation and ravenous pursuit for knowledge. Things felt cold for him there in the massive edifice, but it was not like in the Archives—it was a coldness of the soul, a deeply hostile silence that hinted something great was being held back from him. While everything he felt was alien to him and oppressively urging him to leave he nevertheless pressed on, intent on uncovering the answers he needed in the places his wandering feet were taking him.

“Taputapu whakamarama,” he bade his mask and an instant later it accepted his input; his pole-arm began to radiate light all around and ahead of him with brilliant white illumination and for the first time he came to realize the scope of the edifice he found himself in. It was a great chamber, high as a hill and wide as a river, empty and devoid of all interesting adornments on its tall walls. His eyes tried to spy the ceiling, but it was too far above and his light did not reach it, although he was assured that it existed, and his eyes moved to the walls at either side and the columns that coursed down them like narrow waterfalls of stone before disappearing below where he stood. He was on a ledge, the Wanderer realized, a small ledge in an enormous chasm built within the massive cavity within the citadel which stretched upwards with a void like the nighttime sky at new moon, both oppressive and expansive at once. It stunned Stannis to consider it.

He moved on from there, walking near the edge of the ledge and finding a winding square stairwell at one wall that descended further into the bowels of the citadel and the city it rested in. Atramentous’ words came back to him again, particularly how the turaga had described the dwelling places of the violet-eyed denizens as ‘catacombs’ which a descriptor that hinted strongly at death and burial, and it perplexed Stannis as so far Stannis had encountered nary a slight indication of the macabre. However, he further descended, he could feel the growing sensation of burgeoning power deep under the city, leading him to conclude that whatever awaited him, tomb or something else, it was frightfully powerful.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was truly less than fifteen minutes, the stairwell came to an end and deposited Stannis at the bottom of the internal chasm. The floor was dusty with a faint white complexion that felt soft to the footfall; upon a slightly closer inspection, Stannis recognized it as both a gradual buildup of dust filtered from above with a layer of mycelium. The air reeked of decay all around him, dank and stale and moist from an eternity in stillness, and it seemed to capture sound as quickly as sound could be made. There was a disturbing quality to the depths, and Stannis was transfixed to understanding what it was, so much so that he had lost track of time and the illumination he had been relying on suddenly vanished, plunging him into a darkness that was suffocating even to him.

He stood in the stillness for a moment until his Haonga could reset and chose to employ his elemental powers to sense the world around him. It was all stone below him, but around him—beyond where his perceptions revealed—were other, softer things interlacing the walls that were certainly not stone. Everything seemed shrouded, like there was a dense blanket of fog around the world that rendered his powers moot and weak to feel, and despite the shadows being his home Stannis was like a blind beggar feeling around with only his stick for aid. He stumbled through the darkness, wishing he had a sword again if only to cut through the air and hack its apart like dense jungle foliage in his path, then came to a stop right near the wall.

“Tapahia nga paparanga, whakaatu i te ngaro.”

… Input: Accepted.

He touched the wall gingerly and a sudden burst of energy surged from the point of contact, spreading on all the surfaces like ripples in water and revealing the whole of the world around him in outlines, traces of a tailor’s chalk on a sea black worsted wool that showed a pattern. Books, he thought with utter astonishment at the revealed outlines of hardbound spines and neatly stowed titles. The walls were covered in books! He reached out and plucked a tome out from its alcove and earnestly opened it, but the pages were rotten and disintegrating. The book itself crumbled in his hand, melting like gallium and falling to the floor in a sopping mess. Stannis was crestfallen.

He repeated his ritual, finding another section of wall, revealing the unseen, and pulling another book out. It, too, crumbled at the first touch it likely received in eons. The spell, however, was showing him the true extent of this region, and he looked around to witness what he hadn’t been able to notice previously. He stood in a labyrinthine library with colonnades going in every direction, with bookshelves the height of trees all laden with thousands upon thousands of volumes covering all the walls as far as his spell revealed. Rushing out to the corner of his senses he performed the ritual again, touching the wall and casting the power to see the unseen traces beyond the shrouding veil of darkness. Every time he did so the world remained clear for just a little bit longer, making his job easier each time as he slowly, gradually, lifted the magicks that obscured the catacombs. Someone, or something, had made every effort to seal these areas and prevent people from entering and left an overbearing presence to guard it against interlopers and adventurers, but Stannis was both those things last and a Wanderer foremost, and he did not care to measure the power he mettled with. He would have done things very similarly if he were keeping a secret safe—indeed, he’d done exactly that with his use of the Hiripaki program in the Archives, dissuading people from exploring her by making her uncaring about preserving life in exchange for sheer utilitarian dutifulness.

And then he stopped, wheeled on his heel, and heard a haunting voice emanating from an implacable point of origin through the vast book-laden network of caverns. It wasn’t just a voice, however, and Stannis narrowed his eyes warily as his blood turned cold again; it was... singing…?

“Iiiiiiiii’ve got you under my skinnnn, I’ve got youuuuuu deep in the hhhheart of meeee…”

In the shadows far up ahead, he saw a pair amethyst eyes blink into existence and look back at him.

“So deep in my heart you’re really a part of meeeee, Iiiii’ve got you… under my skiiiinnnn…”

And then another. And yet another…

IC Leklo | Kini-Koro

On 3/17/2021 at 7:27 PM, Void Emissary said:

IC: Parnassus | The Ambling Alp

"Do you know how to pilot something like this?" The Aspect then turned their head back to regard Leklo. "Would your friend Stannis let me use his vessel for a mission of great importance?"

On 3/20/2021 at 1:06 PM, Toru Nui said:

"Funny you should ask... I am familiar with the processes involved, but actually flying it..." Ostrox rubbed the part of his shoulder Parnassus touched, as if he were scrubbing it clean of something. "Well. It was designed by Matoran. How hard can it be?"

"Um... no," Leklo said. 

On 3/22/2021 at 2:27 AM, Gecko Greavesy said:

“Enough of this!” Marrow bellowed, brandishing his macuahuitl at the Ce-Skakdi. He knew he was a haggard sight, his armour streaked with soot and scorchmarks, his pale skin blackened and blotched with burns, blood, and bruises. His wounded left hand was curled against his chest, while his weapon hung loosely from the sweat-slicked fingers of his right. But still he stood, fangs flashing and frills unfurled, as he faced his foe. “I, Marrow of the Mesi, challenge your champion to single combat!”

And with those words, it was done, though none besides him knew it.

He had issued a challenge of ritual combat within Irnakk’s Tooth.

He had invoked the Rite of the Tahtorak.

There was no going back.

7 hours ago, Vezok's Friend said:

:How do you want to play this?:   

IC Yumiwak + Zai | Irnakk's Tooth

I responded in kind to my ward:

{Violently, and quickly.}

"Very well," I bellowed back at the Mesi—Marrow, now that he had a name to me—and stepped forward to accept the challenge with a harsh exhale through my smile. I itched for some true bloodshed in this holiest of places, even if it meant my first ritual quarry was this beleaguered soul. I admired his spirit though, truly; he was a fine example of someone who fought with intent and heart and there was not a single shred of dishonor in his determination to win. Despite the bruises and scars on his ugly body I instantly came to respect the Mesi man as quite my equal in how he, too, worked for the betterment of his crew, haggard as they were already. 

"I was going to offer you cake, but we're outta cake. So... death, then." And then I shouldered my launcher and fired my sixth and final explosive cordak round at the ground in front of Marrow. 

OOC | Now we go to put some jam on this bread. 

On 2/21/2021 at 5:00 PM, Gecko Greavesy said:

IC: Marrow (and minions) – Irnakk’s Tooth

[...]

Merging powers with Hakkzan beside him, Marrow summoned hundreds of thorny tangles of fireroot – a durable plant made up of thick, fireproof vines – which erupted upwards from the cracks and crevices in the walls and floor of the tunnel right behind Korio. They lashed like vipers towards the elemental auras of the approaching Yumiwak and Zai, intent on ensnaring any extremity they could entangle to pull the pair away from each other, and apart.

It was Marrow's hope that if he could just eliminate or maim one or two of the attackers, it might be enough to dissuade the others from continuing their attack. But if they continued their advance, he had little choice left but to retreat into the chamber and gamble with the new knowledge Irnakk had gifted him. Even if that carried the risk of loosing more monsters upon the island.

Even if it meant becoming one himself. 

IC Yumiwak + Zai | Irnakk's Tooth

Once Zataka and Korio had given me the assurances that they were accounted for and still breathing I wasted no time in moving up ahead myself. Zai—bless her ### #### heart—needed the help, and I would rather cut my hand off with a spoon and use a hook instead than see any of my crew lose their life merely for my mission's sake. Sacrifice was to be expected, but it ought to come from leadership first, and the promise I gave earlier that we would all enter this volcano and come back out together was still super fresh in my mind. "Come on, Zai," I commanded and forcefully pulled my crewmate by her arm after me.

I ran at a murderous pace and jostled over debris and decrepit traps that had been laid in my path, but despite my bounding steps and my shaky vision I caught more movement at my sides. My as-yet unseen enemies had raised one more obstacle against me, it seemed, and I slowed my pace enough to get a better read on what they were doing. Smoke and dust stained my grinning teeth, grit of earth seeped through to my tongue, and it looked like the whole cave's walls grew spindly arms to ensnare us with. Serpentine roots and vines with wicked barbs like fangs swept for our bodies from all directions, and once I realizing that was the ploy being used and that being slow would only make it easier for these vines to snag either of us I picked up the pace again. 

For a short while—just a few steps, in reality—we dodged and dashed effectively, but it did not stay that way. Zai yelped in surprise and I could feel her grip slacken as our arms grew taut. She'd been caught, and vine upon vine wasted no time in latching onto her like tentacles from an octopus greedily drowning its prey with suckers. Zai tried to free herself with the last reserves of elemental fire she had in her, drawing from our weakening physical connection as she was pulled away from me, but to both our dismays the flames flicked harmlessly off the plantlife, serving only to immulinate their writhing, spindly shadows like shadow puppetry of a pit of snakes on the walls of the cave, and then we lost our touch and the connection was lost. Fireroot, I wearily suspected in the wake of the ineffectual fires. I couldn't go on alone, not with Zai about to be torn apart limb from limb by the bloodthirsty Mesi's contraptions, and I could already feel another mass of the roots coming for me as well—I needed to act fast, but without my elemental prowess to batter the vines away I had to use more conventional tactics. 

I heaved the cordak launcher up to bear and fired away with liberal target acquisition, first at the ground and then to the walls (but not the ceiling). Fire and flame couldn't hurt the plants, but explosions could dissipate them and tear them from their perches like weeds tossed aside. Each of my five projectiles hit their vaguely-discerned marks, forcing vines to retreat in writhing limpness or be shredded by the rocking explosions that reverberated up and town the corridors. Once Zai suddenly became free again I yanked her back to her feet and once again pulled her behind me, this time urging her to get away from the vines which slung and stabbed into her like burrs. "We're almost there!" I hollered as we cleared the last of the passage to the open space beyond. The cordak launcher reslung itself to its place on my back and I held my carbine in my free hand again, ready to shoot the brains out of any Mesi who charged at me next.

And then we were there, in the sanctum of the Tooth, the open ledge within the caldera, the holiest of Irnakk's domain, and the birthplace of the Riteborn. But we were not alone. With Zai back at my side the full power of my psionic abilities were at my disposal again, and I unleashed them with a devastating mental blast that targeted the Mesi brains around me with an overriding command accompanied by excruciating pain, until all they could feel and think were the torturing words coursing through their minds like flashing neon signs right in front of their faces: 

{SIT. DOWN.}

I leveled my sights on the nearest Mesi. 

{Or else.}

@Gecko Greavesy