Nuju Metru

I mean, I do.

IC: Jasik, his taunting juggling display finished and his business with Rayuke similarly concluded, spun jauntily away from the entrance of the Dastana's Sado residence and, as a pair of guard Menti shut the gates on the half cheering, half jeering crowd outside, he started to head back up the staircase to return to his sister. The sound of something hitting the outside of the closed doors - probably a rock thrown by an Umbraline - stayed him for half a moment, and hoisted an impish grin on his down-turned face. The Menti guards, preparing the brace the inside of the double door, didn't see their First Son's leer, but from behind my illusory invisibility, I did. After the tail of Jasik's foppish golden coat left my sight, I relinquished my Sighteye disguises and followed him up the stairs as silently as I could. The Menti guards just a few meters away didn't hear my soft footfalls - the commotion outside occupied their ears too fully - and had no reason to turn around and see me as I moved and, in so doing, broke my illusions. Jasik made his way back to the solar with the efficient comfort of a Dasaka at home; he cut all his corners the same way, his hand trailed the same way along the banister as it probably had since he'd been large enough to touch it. The Dastana First Son wasn't on his guard anymore, which made tracing his steps several seconds after he'd disappeared again from view even safer. After I saw Jasik open the door of the solar, reenter, and closed it behind himself again, I strode briskly to the door and pressed my ear up against it. I'd only arrived a few moments late. "--to see you two, really, a pleasure," drawled Jasik from behind the door. "Next time you must inform me in advance, so I can have my servants prepare you finger food." "A kind offer, Dastana Jasik," Toroshu Nera's high, sharp voice answered. "But my son and I have not come, as I can imagine you've guessed, to be entertained." "Then why have you come?" Arsix growled aggressively. She, it seemed, did not respond as well as her brother to the realization that the Fursic Toroshu and First Son had overheard their meeting with the Imperial Executioner; indeed, I could imagine, the knowledge that the Fursics and I (but she didn't know I was here, yet) had been able to enter her inner sanctum without being detected had to grate on her already frayed nerves. "We are here to talk, Arsix my dear," Nera replied, her voice a knife of cold wind. "We are here to talk about your strategy going forward."

Yup. If you have more clarification questions, please PM me, though; I think this discussion is quickly becoming not-relevant to the players, since you're the only one with a Suletu.

Yeah, the difficulty in communication is due to how the other party responds, not how you probe. And yes, Menti would be very easily be able to sense you extending yourself into someone else's mind. It'd "look" to them like you were a Willhammer, entering another being's local nexus.

That is not an approved mask, though after looking at your profile I see that it was approved by Nuju. Knowing Nuju he does not approve things like that without there being some type of limit, a give-and-take so to say. So I'll give you my opinion, but this is coming from someone who does not know what the conditions were for you to have that mask. So, on to your question(s): First of all, I don't think you would have that much ability with that mask. If you've taken the time to hone the ability with your team-mates, I would argue that your ability to read OTHER people's thoughts, especially project into the heads of others than your team would be more difficult. You have specialized for optimal teamwork, but that has to come at the cost of the inability to often "Ideatalk" to others. That's my view, which leads to your question- If you are projecting ANY thoughts, yes, they would be able to detect that smack-dab off the bat. You are doing it via mask, they do it naturally, so they have the one-up on you. You on the other hand would not be able to do it right away. Because your "Ideatalk" is artificial, you are in essence "hacking" into the mental plane and into their mental communications. It wouldn't be that difficult, it's not like there is a firewall on the whole Idealtalk network, but you're still doing it differently and will take at least a moment or more of effort. Once that link was established then yes it would be easy and vice-versa. Once you disconnect you will need to re-hack however. They can see you but you can't see them right away. And honestly I don't think they would see this in a good light. Curious at first no doubt seeing that you're not one of them, but once it becomes apparent that you can "listen in"... yeah, I'd lay low Of course this is player knowledge and NOT character knowledge. The Kanohi Suletu is a tricky mask, which is why we've kept it out of the game in almost all cases... With the advent of the Dasaka, though, and the subsequent introduction by staff of clearly delineated mental powers into the BZPRPG, the Suletu becomes easier to handle, understand, and define within the context of the well-defined and well-understood Menti powers. This is why I'm gonna talk about the Suletu in Menti terms. In some ways, the Suletu is a "Mask of Ideatalk;" it enables its user to send thoughts and feelings telepathically to other beings, and to do so in a purely communicative way (the "mental noise" assault referred to on BS01 is basically like blabbering really loudly in someone's ear; it's a distraction rather than an attack). But calling the Suletu a "Mask of Ideatalk" is also misleading, because while Dasaka Ideatalk happens in the space between minds on the mental plane (a respectful "no man's land;" projecting your thoughts directly into someone else's mind without their invitation is extraordinarily rude, even confrontational, in Dasaka culture), the communications projected by a Suletu happen within the mind(s) of the recipient(s). In this way, the Suletu is also like a "Mask of Willhammer," because Suletu telepathic communications involve the mask bearer entering and interacting with the "local nexus" of someone else's mental self. Suletu-based mental communication involves the Suletu user projecting her/his thoughts straight into someone else's head, responding in thought-time to the thoughts and feelings that their conversation partner(s) has and thinks in the normal fashion. However, the Suletu doesn't afford its user the ability to employ Willhammer-esque mental entry for anything but the exchange of thoughts. Confused? Think of the "local nexus" of mental self as the land around a walled city. The most adept Willhammer can sneak inside the city, infiltrate the inner citadel in broad daylight, and kill or coerce the king without being detected, just as easily as she can shatter the gates with one blow of a titanic fist, surge in with all the force of their will, and raze the city with a hurricane of fire (nifty, right?). A Suletu user, by contrast, is limited in his power to sending an envoy or ambassador to the city's territory. Even if the king has walls (mental defenses) high enough to stop the envoy from coming in, he can't stop the envoy from shouting (maybe extremely loudly!). The Suletu-envoy's presence will always be known to the king, whether or not he's allowed in, so the most devious thing the envoy could get away with is stealing state secrets when the king isn't watching carefully enough. Although non-Psionic beings do not have the capacity to project mental communications (without a Suletu, that is), they have the capacity to receive them, because they're sentient; and, the more often they receive them, the better they get at doing so. When repeatedly exposed to mental communication (say, via a Suletu user), it becomes more facile for non-psionic beings to react to it, either by possessing more aware defenses or by being quicker at immediately opening their thoughts up to their communication partner. They'll never gain the ability to initiate a mental conversation, or to respond to anything but the Suletu-voice in their heads, of course; but, just like practicing your pliés or your baseball swing (Go Giants!), muscle memory - in this case, "mental muscle" memory - develops with repetition. For this reason, Tuck is right to point out that Vakua should find it much harder to communicate with people other than the rest of his team, who are all accustomed to communicating with him and by now probably reflexively lower their defenses for his envoys. To answer your other question, since the Suletu is always on at a low level, Dasaka could definitely sense your presence as a mentally active being when you're wearing the mask, and do so before you discovered the same thing about them. Since you have to consciously extend yourself into peoples' minds, while Dasaka detect other minds around them with as much ease as a Toa of Water detect puddles, the Dasaka definitely have the mental upper hand, here. And this clarification reply turned out much longer than I originally intended. This is part of the reason we don't let a lot of you have Suletus.

Nuju has been pretty iffy about firearms for the last couple of arcs despite us having madu cabolo the entire time. While he certainly has loosened up recently I'm still not sure if he would ok something like that. Recently, House brought up firearms with me via PM. I'll tell y'all what I told him: Mata Nui isn't gonna get firearms. I'm not a fan of guns in this game in general (I mean, really, there are so many cooler and more creative weapons you foreign characters could've gotten approved!) because, to me, they don't feel like they belong in a BIONICLE world. This is less to do with the actual technological level - our denizens have little computers, after all; controlled combustion isn't inconceivable by any means in that light - and more to do with the tone of the world and with combat. Introducing gunpowder weapons in a mainstream way to the island of Mata Nui would change the dynamics of PC combat on the island, and I think it'd change them for the worse. He-shot-she-shot would get boring really quickly; unrealistically dodging bullets would become an epidemic problem; there's only so much creativity you can exercise with a weapon that goes boom. "But Nuju, there are other projectile weapons in the game that you're totally fine with!" Correct. Zamors, energy pulses, plasma bolts, and etc. feel like they belong here, and not everyone has them. Bullets, which we never saw in BIONICLE, don't feel like they belong. Besides, if the native populace of Toa, Turaga, and Matoran had access to guns, why would they ever use anything else? I keep guns out of the game as much as I can to preserve the variety of combat and to keep us grounded - even in spite of the island's technological advances - in a world that feels like an extension of the MNOLG (at least, that's the dream).

I'll double-confirm that the Dasaka are Toa, Matoran, and Turaga of Psionics. This info has been nestled in the DMRP and the Starter Topic's plot summary for a while, but it was never really advertised. So here's the advertisement. The Dasaka seemed alien to the people of Mata Nui when they first arrived mainly because on Mata Nui, Toa of Psionics haven't been seen or even heard of in living memory... And, of course, the Dasaka's cultural, aesthetic, and technological differences only augmented their distinctness from the denizens of Mata Nui. They're classified as a different "species" in our game less because of these superficial/societal quirks than because unlike Toa of the other elements, Psionic Toa come with a complex set of restrictions on their elemental powers. The ancient Dasaka may have had access to all Menti powers, and more (in other words, the complete range of the psionic element), but due to generations of cultural and military conditioning, which emphasized training armies of specialized and controllable warriors within a caste system concerned with Order as one of its virtues, the Dasaka have long since lost their elemental versatility. Even the most naturally prodigious known Toa of Psionics, Sheika, was only able to self-teach herself two of the four Menti disciplines (and even she couldn't escape the known strictures of the disciplines, there was no way for her to know better). While Toa on Mata Nui have instinctual and complete access to their elements, Toa on Kentoku require great training and time to hone each specific ability of their elemental power in turn, and most are only allowed to learn one. Conveniently, this works ve-ery well for the game's regulation of easily-OP (and I speak from personal experience) psionic powers. I think I've addressed all the questions and points raised above; unless I've missed something, I think we can call this case closed.

Boo expies. Boo.

so meta

IC: Dear reader: d'you ever have those days when it feels like somebody ordered a sirloin off of your hip - prepped extra-rare, mind - then, for good measure, punched their unnaturally prickly piggies straight into the fleshy bits of your peacock puff zone, played freakin' thumb war against your ribs, won, and finally left you with the grace of a rhino on roller blades, you with your godly Grokk juices flowing outa you as fast as Dorian runs from the memory of his past? Nah, you haven't. ...But if you have, we should start a support group or something. Lemme tell ya, I could totes use some free grub and a place to come laugh as loud as I can at other peoples' problems. To their dumb faces. Mmmyeah-- --hhrrgghhh. My whole body was a big ouchie. Like all scientifically-minded people - but I ain't people - I classify wounds in two categories: little ouchies, big ouchies. Little ouchies don't really get to me - I mean, look at all these cuts and scrapes and burns and nicks and dents and bruises and scars and stuff; little ouchies are reminders you're alive! - and big ouchies, hey, they don't really get to me neither. Okay, I'm lying (and aren't we floored by that); big ouchies are called "big ouchies" for a reason. Science experiment time. Breathe, why dontcha. Easy, innit? You weren't even thinking about breathing until I just said something, that's how easy it is, that's how effortless (even, dare I say, airy) it feels. Isn't it so funny how you need air to survive, hah hah hah look how amused I am. No really, it's so funny it busts my ribs. Wheeze wheeze cough cough owch owch. See, over here on my end, breathin' ain't so nice and easy. It's, uh, how should I put this... I had something for this... I actually don't have something for this because the karzforsaken sharpened iron fencepost that goes through my breathing balloon like it's a stick of butter (or like it's Koro law enforcement, whoosh!) every time I excruciatingly gulp for life is sorta... uh... ach... mmrhhgdistracting. And that distraction's as frustrating as a... like a... graghhhh. This pain has straight robbed me of my metaphorical prowess. Bi-ig ouchie. Dear reader mine: I hate you. I hate the sound of your breathing, and I hate the smoothness of your chest. I don't care about you, obviously, I mean I don't care about anything, but I still hate you. You and your ability to compose metaphors. I hate you--- --whu-uh-uh-ughh grrmmmghh-- --a lot. And shuttup, structureless onomatopoeia is to-hotally a valid way to express myself. Talking - actual talking, the kind involving air, not this - hurt too much to bother with, so for once (there's a first time for everything...) I'd been silenced. As the prissy little medics came and did their prissy little medical things, as the weensey guards came and escorted me from the sight of the most significant street battle in the history of Ta-Koro (I mean, me versus prettyboy, doesn't get better than that, that's a legendary ticket; I saw you all watching, I know you were rooting for the right team... or, you'd better have been, and if you weren't I'll-- --aughh-ghh-ghh, sss-ssss-sssss, aghh-ghh-ghh, mrup. mrup.-- --in the middle of a freakin' parenthetical, c'mon!... What was I even saying? No, no, don't tell me; I'll just look up there. Uhh, er, right, the greatest street battle ever, you all saw it, team Grokk, yadda yadda, who even cares), I said nothing and did less. Couldn't interrupt Caught Nefthanded (funny, because true) as he told my story, couldn't even call the medic names; that was a new low for me. Not to mention the gosh darned agony that made me want to pass out every time I inhaled, I mean let's no-ot forget that! We ca-an't forget that! Except you already have, you're still breathing like it's nothing, you're not even thinking about it, you forgot. I can't forget; or have you not been paying attention this whole. freakin. time? I hate you. so. much. I can give creds to the healer - not for his tone, or for his choice of occupation (I mean, helping people, what's the point?) - but because he did good work. Closed everything up fairly pretty to stem the flow of aforementioned godly Grokk juices, but didn't do much to fix the plumbing. He'd slapped some drywall up over busted pipes and called it a day. A metaphor, there's hope for me yet. So I'm safe for transport, and they cart me off to some hospital or something. I wasn't watching it happen, I was too busy playing whack-a-mole with the spots that flitted across my vision. The inhales rattled with something wet deep down. Huz-freakin'-zah-- --heeeaauuughhhhckk-kk-k-clulcckkk-grahhh-- We-ell, that was a lot of blood I just spat out. As the gurney rolled past the loogie on the floor I remarked to myself in the beautiful clarity of ludicrous, delirious pain that the splatter looked like a Muaka riding on top of an ussal wearing a cape. I've never produced a finer work of visual art. I smiled with reddened teeth, hacked up some more miscellaneous fluids, and flopped back down onto the rumbling wheeled slab. Slabs are for dead people. but I ain't people the whack-a-mole spots took my hammer and clobbered me ... dont worry i wake up i think

First post has been updated with several new sets - go take a look!

Big for a bug, but probably not bigger than a Matoran's palm even with its wings extended.

IC: I don't feel like talking.

IC: "Wuss." "Uh, what?" "What, d'you need your ears checked? Wu-uss. Wuss-wuss. Wussycat." "...You do know where this spear is, right? Like, within an inch of your side? About to freakin' stab you?" "But it didn't, did it?" "Well, not yet. That's about to change--" "--Nup. It ain't." "Oh, do tell--" "Ho-ho! Almost got me with that poke there, didn'tcha! Scawwy!" "Stop moving." "A'ight, wuss." "Says the guy who just ducked the flat of the blade." "Says the guy who won't carry through." "Oh, so killing you makes me brave? Don't worry, then, Grokk, I just know I left my courage around here somewhere--" "Nah nah nah, you still don't geddit. You don't kill me, you're obviously a wuss... You do kill me, you're still a wuss." "Yeah, I 'don't geddit,' you got me. Forgive me for ending my, ah, confusion with a decisive--" "Confused, that's the phrase I wanted, that's what you are." "...Confused. The guy with the spear pointed at the shoddy remnants of your liver is confused." "He looks pretty confused to me. Sky-guy, mantel chick, firepants - they somehow have even less idea what's goin' on in that ticker of yours than you do." "Jealous?" "Of that crowd? Not exactly my type. You're not stabbing me." "So you are jealous." "Grow up." "...I'm sorry, give me another few minutes to catch my breath. What?" "Again, you and your ears--" "You. You are telling me to grow up. You, the guy who has nothing better to do than break into my place with a, a confetti cannon. You're telling me to grow up." "Yyyyup." "Don't quite follow your logic on that one. Who's the one with an apartment? With a girlfriend--" "--Is that how you'd classify Sky-guy? Gender roles are so interesting--" "--With a girlfriend, with a job, with goddamn friends. Do you have an apartment, Grokk? Do you have a girlfriend, or a job, or friends? You have no friends." "Never have." "Is that supposed to bother me? Just so you know, it doesn't. I know you were never my friend. I always knew you were scum." "Nah, see, you didn't. Back in the day, you used to look at me like Niffleball over there, you didn't know better. But I'm sure you drink to forget it, and the sorts of stuff you did when you were associatin' with the likes of ol' Grokkie. Remember Xa-Koro? Glug glug?" "Yeah, so what if I do? Doesn't change the fact that you're a worthless, washed-up booze hound. With a bounty on you that I intend to collect--" "--Same bounty's on your head, kid, great plan--" "--and that's the only reason you're still alive, I figure they pay more alive--" "--Tell yourself whatever works. You're still confused." "I know what I want." "You don't. If ya did, I'd already be shish-kagrokk. You've neglected to stab me this whole time, and I mean I know I'm a captivating conversationalist, but that's pretty pathetic." "I'm confused and pathetic? And I need to 'grow up.' I'm actually amazed, Grokk, you're amazing." "That's not news to anybody. You don't know what you want; you're confused; it's pathetic. Glad we've all come to terms with my thesis statement. So I don't have a solid chick, a crash pad, the shackles of employment, flippin' friends, but do I want them? Nah. Did I ever want them? Nah. Maybe you've done your best to black out your rough-n-tumble days, Dor-dor, the days when you were mixed up with the rougher-uppers like yours truly, but I'm sure you know me well enough to know that I'm not lying, that I'm not the sort to wear a people mask and smile and pretend to be okay when I ain't. I don't do that, pearlies are always gen-yoo-ine. I'm legit fine, I've been fine, I'll be fine. Your opinion of me doesn't count for diddly, squiddly; you can bank on that. But that ain't the point. Point is, I know what I want, and I always have. A wise old geezer who I just made up in my noggin once said that 'one of the central tenets of maturity is... knowledge of oneself.' As far as self-knowledge goes, nobody's on my level. To quote a mathematician, a contemporary of that geezer, 'Grokk is Grokk is Grokk.' I'm a constant. "You, meantime, you're an eddy of wind, or something else symbolically, er, wavering. You're confused, you've flipped here and there and back-n-forth on what you want out of this weensy world of ours, and you've fought yourself - the part of you you hate to acknowledge, the part of you who used to snigger with a specifically splendid Skakdi - about it the whole way. You force yourself to change your mind about things and you hurt yourself, and you throw yourself through little doggy hoops and burn yourself, and you can't help spilling your pathetic guts all over the place in the process. You suffer, and you do it because you like to think of yourself as mutable; news flash, buster: you ain't. "Example one: let's say I throw the rock at you. You and me both know you'd want it; strike that, you'd need it. You wouldn't be able to stop yourself. You're prolly thinking about it right now and salivating, pooch. Remember how it could make you feel? Not when it hurt... but when it didn't. Ahhhh, yeahhhh... Felt good, dinnit? Me, I was never on that stuff - I knew I wouldn't like it, yasee, again with the self-knowledge shtick - but you, you couldn't get enough. Why? Helped you escape for a weensey moment from not knowing what you are. And again, pathetic confusion. Dorian, you ain't changed. You come back around wearing cologne distilled from your own farts, because you hate smelling the stink of truth on you. You're a bad person, like me. And just because you like not to think about it don't make it any less real. "How many people have you hurt, Dor-dor? More than have hurt you. How many people have you snuffed out? De-efinitely more than have snuffed out you. How many lies have you told? How many times have you gotten this close to getting better, and then you've lost your nerve? That happens 'cuz you come up against your reflection, this twitchy ugly little demon that finds nothing sexier than evil. I ain't just referring to darkness boy from the jungle. How long were you in the business, having a killer time - killer, hah, geddit? - doing the sorts of things I do, doing 'em right next to your partner in crime, hmm? Difference between you 'n me is smaller than you wanna think. The only one I can see is that I never wear scarves, except ironically... Well, that and the fact that I don't pretend. I don't try to be something I ain't, not like you, ya poser. Girlfriend? So you get less. Job? Less freedom. Friends? They don't get you. You don't let them, because you're too busy tryna be what they wanna see. It's loverly to be who I am. If I was the caring sort, it'd be simply tearing me apart to watch you deny your spirit bunny. Grow up, be yourself, wuss."

Kughs, your earnestness and honesty are always appreciated around here. Thank you for being such a helpful and positive part of our community. As for Skakdi powers, I've always played it that the Skakdi had to not just cooperate mentally, but also fuse elemental energies, to use their elemental powers. At least, that's what I've always done when RPing the Piraka. For instance: Or, more recently: So, the judgement call: Skakdi can only tap their elemental abilities in tandem, and can't use them independently of one another even when they're cooperating.

OOC: Autohits in here were all explicitly cleared with Ty before posting. IC: In the grey light of a perfectly pleasant Ta-Koro day, my green swirly tattoo glistened blackly with Dor-Dor's blood (I never toldja about the tattoo, did I? Why, when, how I got it, nah? You curious? Too bad; too busy to tell you about it, remind me later). Some of the red stickiness that he'd spat on me dripped down my face, running through my grinning dimple like it was a canal. On reflex I smiled, baring my teeth and fully displaying their shapely whiteness, their orthodontic excellence. One time I brought my teeth to show-and-tell, and I got the lollipop on that day. Today, of course, they weren't quite as friendly-lookin'; but my current smile came from humor, as it always had. 'Cuz it was really tremendously funny to think of Dear Dor's hands and feet getting repeatedly slammed in do(o)r jams the rest of his existence. Nascaryus took out Dor's bullets before they hit me, and drew the attention of McMuscles. "Good 'ol Niffles," I cheered under my breath as he tried to pull the "look, over there!" thing on the red-and-gild mannequin. Beefy Mancake's head looked empty enough to fall for it; but before he could, Sky-guy was pulling a maneuver from Grokk 101 on Pal Neffy, using the sniper rifle like a club. I've seen many a pickle in my day, and Nethhead sure was in one. Would Nathankyouverymuch fend off his two assailants? Would the pleasure (y'know, not-business) end of that gun connect with his jaw? Would I even care? Find out next week on "The Fantabulous Adventures of Captain Grokk & His Little Rascals." I won't be watching, so someone's gonna have to let me know what happens. See, I only had eyes for the guy behind Firepants, that wimpy scrawny little guy with the gorgeous bloody mouth (hey ma, look at what I made!) who, what with the commotion behind him, been forced to look back around. Whistling through my teeth, murder or some similar stuff in my eyes, I picked up a rubble pebble on the street, flicked it up, and zapped it midair with a Containment Sphere. When the pint-sized rock fell back down, I caught it as a head-sized sphere of blue energy with pebble bouncing around inside. Still whistling - whistling this, cuz I know you well enough to know you wondered - I took a few steps closer to Dor, who watched with condescending (read as "dumb"; wait and see!) amusement as I approached, stepping to my own beat, the small Containment Sphere palmed in my hand. Dorian raised his gun, and shot it at me again, twice. Ah, such a one-trick, emotionally crippled, blood spitty pony (don't look this gift horse in the mouth, hey-o!). I had no Little Rascal to eliminate the bullets for me this time, but that wasn't a problem. As Dor'd raised his own arm, I'd raised mine right back, and caught the bullets, headed for my center of mass, on the Containment Sphere. Here's the thing about Containment Spheres; they freakin' rule. Here's the other thing: when they're fresh, they can rebound just about anything. Bullets? No problem. The little bits of flying metal (so mundane) hit my sphere and bounced off it at cray-zazy angles; one shattered the upstairs window of an apartment nearby (sorry not sorry, property damages), and another nearly hamstrung prettyboy (so close). Before Dor-Dor could shoot around my little shield with his last two bullets, I lunged forward and knocked the gun from his hand with the sphere, sending it skittering a few meters away down the Ta-Koro street. Dor dove for his weapon, but I caught him first, spinning like a ninja and clocking him on the side of the head with the sphere, sending him tipping over in the other direction. As he went down, I followed him, pinned him, and started bashing into his nose with the trusty blue bubble. "Da dum-dum-dum," I hummed, each da/dum another blow that bounced the back of his head painfully into the ground below. His nose bled. "Da dum-dum-dum. Da dum-dum da-da-da-da--" He managed to get me off him by reaching around the sphere and socking me expertly across the face. I rolled out of the blow, but consequently lost my advantageous position. Dorian sprung up and kicked me in the gut, winding me; I reached out a clawed hand and tugged on his leg, bringing him right back down to my level. I tossed aside the Containment Sphere, which was weakening anyway (after a life of admirable, noble service) and tore one of the scarves from my neck. In a jiffy, I had it pressed into prettyboy's throat like a garrotte. "Scarf Monster's big, scarfmonster's bad," I sang hoarsely as I pushed down harder and Dor started to choke. "Scarfmonster's gonna... dangit, I had a rhyme. Oh yeah, 'crush your trachea,' that rhymes right?"

IC: Zaktan's Rahkshi didn't stay at the top of the corkscrew stairs for long. After Joske ran through them, snagging Ishi on his way, the four creatures began their descent, with the Rahkshi of Darkness spreading its influence like ink before the party. The Rahkshi of Teleportation, meanwhile, separated itself from the group as it appeared instantaneously at the far end of the atrium chamber, far behind the area of conflict and so out of sight of the fighters. From within a shady niche, the Rahkshi took stock of its targets, waiting for an ideal time to appear. Meanwhile, Poison and Adaptation stayed beneath Darkness' umbrella, and the three strafed over to the Maru's flank. From behind the shield of shadow, the Rahkshi of Poison and Adaptation sprung on Leah and Reordin. Poison trapped the end of Leah's twirling staff in the barbs of its own, then aimed a kick at her gut; Adaptation, attacking from the side opposite Hakann's Fear, chopped at Reordin's knees. Darkness continued to fill the air before it with whirling shade, a smokescreen that would enable it to move with impunity within that area, and Teleportation chose its moment, appearing behind the distracted Sulov and bringing its staff down, spear-like, at the Toa of Earth's hulking back.

IC: Listen: you've read me for a while now, yeah? Gotten plenty acquainted with my breezy charm? My scathing, topical wit? My towering, but welcoming, intellect? My narrative excellence? My endearing prose? My considerateness towards you, dear reader (I mean, karz, do I have to be writing this for you? Do I have to tell you every little genius thought that runs through the old noggin? No; you oughta feel blessed to be privy to my tale as it's told)? Yeah, you think you know me. Well, news flash people: you don't know me. Because you ain't seen me get mad yet. You've seen me on the job kill little old ladies; you've seen me pull pranks the likes of which you've never imagined; you've seen me stare down genocide with a grin. I don't care about people, so maybe I'm not people (let's be real, I'm almost definitely on a higher tier than most of y'all snitches). But like people, I can be mad. I already said, just in my last installment, that anger's a waste of time, and that there's none of it a few shots of one kind or another won't fix. But I'm also a Skakdi, and if there's one thing Skakdi're really, really good at, it's being angry. Seriously, savagely angry. Barehanded decapitation without wearing an apron angry. I'm-gonna-pull-your-eyeballs-out-through-your-toenails-and-make-you-drink-the-resultant-smoothie angry. The Containment Sphere finally melted around me, but nobody, not even trusty Sodium ("Na," geddit) paid any attention. They were all too preoccupied with another newcomer, one of Poorian's (Poorian because we're all about to feel real sorry for him, geddit) boy toys, if that smooch was to be believed. The part of me that didn't want to scrape something's guts out with a blunt shovel wondered cursorily how many men were in Dor-Dor's life, and prepared to formulate a pun about it. But unfortunately, my better nature had been long since drowned, drowned by the blood that rose in my throat with the power of a sea to explode past my gaze in a violent spray. I guess opera music and being seriously ticked elicit my best syntax. Whatever. The point is this; the new guy's panted words about who-even-cares drew eyes and ears away from me. Hey, reader, you know what makes me wanna, I dunno, play ping pong with your spleen? When you don't look at me. Yeah, you. Not that other reader over there. I seriously mean you, stupid. Look at me. You, who's reading this, I'm talking to you. That spleen's lookin' pretty bouncy. YOU; what part of that don't you get? I see you, your face is all whitey-blue lit. I know who you are. I know where you are. I see you. YOU. LOOK AT ME. ...Now, was that so hard? While everyone directed their worthless, tasteless attention to the inferior life form whose only virtue (and a shaky one, might I be so egregious as to add) seemed to be his novelty, I scowled, grabbed the near-empty bottle on the table next to me, and followed my own instructions by trying to banish my anger with a shot. Alas, a swig of happy-juice didn't do much to quell the not-so-happy-juice that'd started boiling up in my gut the second Mr. Superiority dared touch my gold tooth. Who even does that? That's what really set me off, lemme tell you. Disses didn't help, fine, I'll admit it. Dor learned from the best; I hadn't anticipated the kind of fire he'd spat (and while I could cleverly counter all his jibes here for your benefit, the boss - Mr. Mad-As-Karz - tells me there isn't time to narratively smell the flowers). Whatever the case, I digress; his words were just fuel to the fire. He touched my freakin' tooth. That was straight unforgivable. You wanna play the tooth game, Shaddick? I'll tie you down with barbed wire (or scarves, for symbolism), yank each and every one of your bitsy less-than-pearlies out with rusty pliers, taking my time so that you can't just pass out from the pain or blood loss. I'll throw you off a seaside cliff with weights tied around your ankles and watch you sink, the water above you bubbling brown as the last of your blood and life-breath escapes your screaming mouth. I'll watch the sharks, drawn by the bleeding, accelerate your death and take your flesh from you mouthful by mouthful. And then I'd make a fortune on the designer jewelery I made outa your teeth. Yeah, let's play the tooth game, sissy. At the behest of the Toa of Fire's pleas, Dor-Dor turned away from me with infuriating disregard and ambled out onto the street, like it was over. But it wasn't over between us, not that easy. Not by a long shot. Long shot. His sniper rifle. Heh. See, it's funny because when I tackled him from behind as he turned into the street, I grabbed the butt of the rifle that hung at his shoulder and pounded it down with all my strength at his head. His stupid, big fat tooth-grabbing stupid head. I hated his stupid face. Anger's a heckuva drug.

IC: He-ere we go. It seemed like that kool kid facade of his was finally cracking... I got D-Widgets heating up. Don't believe me? See all the pound signs up there. They're there for your protection, 'cuz Dor'd begun to sling some mud, a solid sign that he was starting to lose his glass-unicorn-fragile temper (Meanwhile I'm not the angry type; why waste time and energy being angry, when a few shots - alcoholic or metallic - later you'll have nothing to be angry about?). Goodie; if I played my cards right - and it's impossible not to, when you've been counting 'em like me - and stirred the pot just so, I'd brew some legit resentment... even rage. Ooh, rage. Just sayin' it gives me chills. Here, you try, say it aloud with me, on three: one two three rage. Ooh-hoo-hoo. Tingles. "One for the ages, chya," I agreed from inside my bubble, smiley as a seal (do seals smile? Who cares, alliteration never lies). "If you break it down, I mean, mathematically, we got a perfect plan, textbook even. Long-finished assassination? Check. Disregard for my outlaw status? Check. Breaking and entering? Check, nah, mega-check. Destroying prettyboy's property? You better check that box. Consumption of long fermented happy juices? Chee-euck! Turaga face-slushie reference? Oh, you know that's a check. But for the record, I'd say the slushie was a bit more... rocky-road, myself. Like, her face had just skidded high speed across a-- um, wait wait I know this-- a rocky road, that's right!" I was a grinning gazelle, a toothy tiger, an alliterating alligator. "You think the hate of the little people bothers me? I'd hoped you knew me better, Dorrie. Rolls right off. Nobody gets to take this smile off my face, 'cept me. Besides, I haven't had to worry about being prematurely turned into wall deco around here. This ain't little Birdie's turf; round Ta-Koro way, they're way too busy thinkin' about some other Skakdi who rolled through and wailed on the place seemingly without reason to spare little me a glance. Speaking of, part of me respects their live-free-die-hard attitude, and part of me shakes my head, like gents, you could be actually profiting off this, ya rookies. But hey, less competition for the likes of me." The containment sphere was thinning, I could tell. You spend enough time in one, the lightening of the blue is the first sign you notice. I probably had another minute or so. Had another one ready; worry not, reader mine. But I'd take advantage of it while I had this one. Hamster-style, I rolled up closer to Dor-dor, so that the surface of the blue bubble stopped just inches away from his button nose and inferior dental array. "Remind me which one of the geezers you hit?" I asked, aware that the more I talked, the more irked he'd get. People just don't respond well to the amount of jaw-flapping I tend do. I choose to politely acknowledge and subsequently burn that memo. "I forget. All the Bad Co. stuff feels like fiveever ago, jafeel? Haven't seen Bry for even longer... good times, though, good times. What've I been doing since? Not a lot, thanks for asking. You, meanwhile, I can tell you've been out and about, and probably around and around and around. What's the deal with Sky-guy, anyway? Does he diet or something? I'm mystified how he rearranged his body weight like that. And that drawing over there, that's not Sky-guy. Looks like a different dude - looks like a chick, really, but now that I know your flavor, I can't assume anything - so I'm confused. Maybe almost as confused as you, Dorkian." "Oh, pee ess," I finished, rolling my oversize bouncy ball just a wee bit closer, so that it shoved into him and made him lose his balance a wee bit and stumble back towards the foyer. "Don't be prissy 'bout the piano... I imagine that in her final moments, she was glad to be involved in making some real music for once. Your music tastes were too whiney and self-indulgent for such a noble - now deceased, rest in pieces - instrument. Scarf Monster basically gave her a last meal of Takea-fin soup after a lifetime of imprisonment, a karzforsaken life of nibbling on nothing but stale dipping crackers."

The Kraata obeys your commands whether or not it's in its suit. If you order it to slither on out, it'll do so.

Something we all wanted to know: Rahkshi Types Enslaved, by Piraka Avak ElasticityGravityMagnetismAccuracyPlasmaConfusionHakann Ice ResistanceFearMind ReadingSilenceShatteringInsect ControlReidak Rahi ControlHungerQuick HealingPower ScreamSlowLimited InvulnerabilityZaktan TeleportationPoisonDensity ControlChameleonDarknessStasis FieldAdaptationMolecular DisruptionVezok AngerHeat VisionVacuumChain LightningDisintegrationCycloneThok SleepWeather ControlSonicsFire ResistancePlant ControlIllusion

IC: Dodging the projectile, and thus dodging the test, had been an avenue Zaktan wasn't surprised to see the Kakama-wearing Toa take. But because of this evasion, however much the Toa protested his identity as a mercenary - in fact, the more the Toa protested - Zaktan's suspicions about him only increased. Zaktan didn't interrupt the Toa's profanity-filled tirade as it spilled out; having spent enough time in his company, the Skakdi knew that if he remained quiet and let the Toa speak as he would, the liar would end up convicting himself. A few careless words, and a downward dart of Zaktan's eyes, at last gave Zaktan the proof he'd sought for so long. There was no abdominal scar; this Toa was not who he claimed to be. Whether the Toa was an actual mercenary masquerading as Dorian to evade future consequences - a mercenary with an unknown patron, probably one of the other Piraka - or a hero masquerading as a mercenary was unimportant; the lie was real, and Zaktan had to consider its ramifications. Something the Toa hadn't lied about had been the presence of a mysterious device in the Vault. That crystal he'd let fall to the floor had rolled into place of its own accord, and summoned a blue light that reminded Zaktan of the uncorrupted Abettor's luminance; such things did not happen except under the influence of powerful forces. Whatever secret lay beneath Zaktan's feet, the secret unlocked by those six crystals, was probably tied to the same incorporeal power that had incinerated the first enslaved Rahkshi when he and the rest of the Piraka had first entered the Vault. With that reasonable connection having been made, Zaktan could safely conjecture that the device, whatever it was, posed a threat to him. The Toa had lied about his identity; so he'd been sent, either by a competitor or by mere dumb duty, to sabotage and possibly kill Zaktan. How had the Toa (or his employer) known about the device in the floor? And, more importantly, what else did the Toa know that Zaktan did not? The Piraka was quite aware that he didn't yet comprehend the Vault's true purpose, so the realized possibility that someone else knew more about it than him and intended to use that knowledge against him was a threat he knew better than to take lightly. The first reflex Zaktan had was to instantly eliminate the danger to his sovereignty; he entertained the option of killing the Toa - it'd be so easy - but soon dismissed the notion. Silencing this liar, satisfying as it would be now, would be shortsighted. Killing the Toa meant killing Zaktan's chances of discovering more, both about the Vault itself and about the Toa's sources of information. If Zaktan wanted to truly quell the threat, he would have to burn its roots. This Toa was his only lead to these roots; he had to live, and he had to think he'd gotten away with his lies. He'd have to think that he'd won. "Trouble," Zaktan bubbled luxuriously, finally halting the tirade of words. "Physical and emotional trauma... these are vocational hazards of yours, Dorian. Surely you're not so naive that you expect recompense for them?" "...It was worth a try," the Toa shrugged with faux sheepishness. He'd reverted again to forcefully breezy charm. "I can respect an enterprising mercenary," Zaktan said after an oppressive pause. "I know how to work with an enterprising mercenary. You say you were sent here on orders to deliver... those?" The Skakdi gestured at the glowing crystal in the floor, and then the Toa's bag which held the others like it. "Yep," the Toa answered. "Who sent you?" Zaktan buzzed. "Mmm..." the Toa considered exaggeratedly. "I don't remember." Zaktan clasped his hands behind his back. "Why don't you look around the room for a moment," he hinted, harsh voice tempered with a sickly abundance of honey. "Perhaps something you see will... freshen your memory." The Toa winked back at him, and proceeded to look around the Vault. His eyes flitted too quickly past the vat of Antidermis, moving on to roaming the mountain of technologies opposite it and then to the diminutive pile of Kanohi in one corner. The Toa made his way over to the masks and picked them up one by one, examining them in turn. He eventually narrowed the half-dozen or so down to two, and after a moment's consideration, opted for a ridged, angular Kanohi the likes of which was not seen commonly on the island of Mata Nui. He moved to try it on, but at a hiss from Zaktan, a Rahkshi slapped the Toa on the wrist, making him wince. "What was that for?" the Toa protested. "First, I need the name of your employer," Zaktan chided icily. "Tell me who sent you here with those crystals." "Whoa, let's be clear," the Toa said. "I tell you who hired me. In return I get to leave with this mask. Yeah?" "If those are the terms you wish," Zaktan replied. "Done." "...Ambages," the Toa finally revealed. "Ambages sent me here to put these crystals in the floor. Happy?" "No," Zaktan said. "But I am satisfied. You may go." "Before I do," the Toa told Zaktan as he put the mask in his bag and moved to pull out another crystal. "Let me just finish what I was sent here to do--" "Seize," Zaktan ordered. The same Rahkshi that had slapped the Toa's wrist now raised its hand at him, freezing him in place inside a vortex of red and purple energies. The Rahkshi of Stasis Field maintained its concentration on its captive while Zaktan addressed him, deadly quiet. "When my Rahkshi lets you go, you will not place the rest of the crystals. You will remove the one you've already inserted. You will take the crystals, the mask you have bought, and your life - which I have been generous enough to let you keep - and you will depart. Release." The Rahkshi relented, and the Toa regained his mobility. He hastily bent to extract the crystal he'd already let fall; when he removed it, the notch into which it'd sunk returned to its normal level, looking like every other letter etched into the floor. The Toa pocketed the crystal again in his satchel, buckled his sword back on, and made his way back up the stairs. Once he was out of sight and earshot, Zaktan issued a quiet order. "Chameleon," he whispered, drawing the attention of a yellow Rahkshi, which saluted with its staff as it heard its mission. "Follow the Toa. Do not let yourself be discovered. Gather information about his allies, and return to me when you have." The Rahkshi hissed with savage anticipation, and before Zaktan's eyes, it melted into the colors of the Vault, then flew silently after its quarry. With a nasal exhale, Zaktan relaxed his entire body, melting into a whirling green cloud. He fell into his natural state effortlessly. The cloud meandered closer to the Antidermis vat; it pulsed and shifted along with the dancing of the dark fluid within.

Influx of prettyboys? I blame the trendsetter.

IC: Oh my. Oh my goodness. Lookit my shocked face. Wow. So much shock. Whaaaa. Oh em geez, no way. Actually, amend that; way. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know how exactly Sky-fly was actually Sky-guy (I mean, on the one hand, there were a lot of details that probably didn't belong at the dinner table, and the Scarf Monster ain't nothin' if he ain't the type to introduce to your parents; on the other hand, part of me reacted to the gender issue with BIO-curiosity - see what I did there?), but the fact that Dor was involved in all the wrong ways with a pseudo-dude wasn't as much of a surprise to me as he prolly expected or wanted it to. Let's all remember that he never stops talking and thinking about a certain Toa of Shadow... So while Neefer Madness cracked up at the premise of some hot manwiching (and I didn't blame him; manwiching is a silly word) I was able to keep my ducks in a row as I heard Dorian "Gayzed and Confused" Shaddix's grand announcement. Inside my bubble - physical and metaphorical; I've led a life sheltered from more-than-bro hugs - I grinned and shook my scarf-wrapped head back and forth with cheerful disappointment. "Oh, Dor-dor-dor-dor-dor," I clucked. "You've never had the best taste - I mean, look at your apartment; look at the stuff I got you hooked on; look at these scarves I've been forced to wrap myself in to make an artistic statement - but this, this is somethin' else. I mean, look, creds where they're due, he can clean, I'll give him that... but settling down with him? You can do better. He looks so tired!" Wink wink, nudge nudge.

Howdy guys! This is the topic for my "second wave" of (Not) LEGO Dragon Lands. (Not) LEGO Dragon Lands is a MOC series that's meant to be like a new theme of LEGO fantasy; as such, the creations below are designed to be as stable, functional, and reasonably-sized as real LEGO sets. The creations I make in my "themes" (I've done several like this in the past) are designed to go together well, and be highly playable as a cohesive theme. Like I said, this is the topic for the imaginary second wave of Dragon Lands (wave one can be seen in-depth here). The premise of this arc is that the orc-like Ustokal of the Essoni Desert and the humans of the Kingdom of Ardun, once at war with each other, are faced to join forces to defend their world from a new threat (very Legends of Chima, huh?). A group of Necromancers has conglomerated; they've risen an army of Zombies, and tied lots of powerful dragons to their service, so the good guys are up against quite the challenge! Making this wave took me much less time than the first wave, and much of that was due to the fact that I already had a fairly established dragon design, theme aesthetic, and arsenal of characters to toy around with. A lot of the fun came in expanding a world that I'd already developed in a lot of depth with wave one, and improving things where I could (more versatile and stable dragons, more interesting minifig combos, more vibrant and unique-looking sets). I'm pretty happy with how this wave has come out, and I hope you enjoy it too! More sets will be added as time goes on - so stay posted! The newest sets will be added at the top. 64026 Radgha Rising Pieces: 800 Price: $79.99 Stop the undead dragon Radgha from rising back to life! It’s a sorcerer’s battle for the ages! Althior and Rothut, two prodigious wizards, have journeyed to the outer reaches of the Essoni Desert in search of the fortress of the necromancer Scallow. They’ve discovered it, and also discovered Scallow’s newest scheme: to summon Radgha, a powerful dragon of legend, back to life! Althior and Rothut will have to use all their skill and cleverness to put a stop to the ritual. The only chance they have is the suspended Protection Vial, but they’ll have to navigate the dark fortress, find the helpful phoenix, and face Scallow’s Zombies along the way. Will the good wizards cast Radgha back to sleep? Includes 5 minifigures with assorted weapons and accessories: Rothut, Althior, Scallow, and 2 ZombiesThe massive dragon Radgha features flexible cloth membranes on her wings, skeletal ribs, bony ridges, and evil green eyesRadgha is fully poseable, with 36 points of articulation including folding wings, moving toes, an opening jaw, and a bending spineRadgha features a spring-loaded Spell Launcher on her belly, and storage for magic bolts under her wingsScallow’s fortress features sinister black stone, brick detailing, and dragon claw turretsLaunch Althior into the air with the magic catapultSend the Protection Vial and its crystal sphere flying by pressing the leverRelease the Zombies from their spellbinder bubbles by pushing the bar behind the wallStop the summoning with magic launchers high on the wall and towerWeapons and accessories include an axe, a spear, Althior’s staff, Rothut’s staff, Scallow’s bone scythe, a Protection Vial, 6 Spell Launcher shots, a phoenix, a treasure chest, and lots of wizard suppliesRadgha measures more than 14” (37cm) long, with a wingspan of over 17” (44cm)Tower measures over 5” (12cm) wide, 5” (13cm) deep, and 11” (28cm) tallWall measures over 7” (17cm) wide, 3” (7cm) deep, and 11” (28cm) tall64025 Dragon’s Lair Pieces: 507 Price: $49.99 USD Find wondrous treasure in Imaust’s Lair! Imaust has always been a greedy and wicked dragon. Over ages, he has stolen an immense treasure from the Ustokal people. The Ustokal King, Vorash has decided that Imaust’s days of destruction must come to an end. Vorash, his new ally Orion, and the wily Kojai, sneak into Imaust’s lair in the middle of the Essoni Desert, intent on putting a stop to Imaust’s evil deeds once and for all! Will they succeed? Includes Vorash, Orion, Kojai, an Ustokal soldier, and Imaust. Includes 4 minifigures with assorted weapons and accessories: an Ustokal Soldier, Kojai, Orion, and VorashLair includes a rocky hollow, an arch, a staircase, two huge torches surrounded by treasure, and a wall of flameCave elements feature stalagmites and stalactites, rocky surfaces, and lots of gold elementsImaust’s treasure includes coins, goblets, plates, shields, diamonds, nuggets and moreEnter the dragon’s lair through a secret doorDump fire on intruders by pulling a stalactite near the archExplode the staircase and raise the wall of flame to stop Kojai from reaching the golden axeImaust is fully poseable, with 28 points of articulation including folding wings and moving toesImaust features flexible cloth membranes on his wings, spiky red scales, detachable fiery breath, and a gold toothWeapons and accessories include a curved sword, a broadsword, a mace, a spear, a round shield, the Legendary Shield, a golden axe, and two treasure chests full of diamondsArch and stair section measures more than 9” (24cm) long, 4” (11cm) deep, and 16” (16cm) tallImaust measures more than 13” (33cm) long, with a wingspan of over 16” (39cm)64024 Sky Chase Pieces: 450 Price: $39.99 Chase the Wyvern with Urnelda, the Golden Dragon! On the back of Urnelda, the Golden Dragon, Aona and her cat patrol the skies above Ardun. When a Zombie and its Wyvern mount are spotted, the chase is on! The Wyvern is quick, but Urnelda is strong, and Aona sends her spells flying at the enemy dragon. Will Urnelda and Aona steer the Wyvern into the camouflaged tree outpost, and the Ustokal archer waiting there? Includes Aona, Urnelda, a Zombie, a Wyvern, and an Ustokal Archer. Includes 3 minifigures with assorted weapons and accessories: a Zombie, Aona, and an Ustokal ArcherSet features two fearsome dragons as well as a camouflaged tree outpostWyvern has 27 points of articulation, including folding wings and grabbing talonsUrnelda is fully posable, with 33 points of articulation including folding wings, moving toes, and an opening jawSeat Aona and her cat in Urnelda’s saddleUrnelda features a spring-loaded Spell Launcher on her belly, and storage for magic bolts under her wingsBoth Urnelda and Wyvern have flexible cloth wing membranesShoot down the Wyvern with the tree outpost’s crossbowsWeapons and accessories include Aona’s staff, a bow, a bone axe, a shield, and a catWyvern measures over 9” (24cm) long, with a wingspan of over 15” (39cm)Urnelda measures more than 13” (33cm) long, with a wingspan of over 18” (46cm)64023 Lellyr Ultimate Dragon Pieces: 280 Price: $27.99 USD Outrun your enemies with Lellyr, the ultimate dragon! Lellyr is the fastest dragon in the Kingdom of Arden. With long wings, streamlined green scales, and sharp claws, Lellyr is a force to be reckoned with even without his rider, Kojai, who is as quick and clever as his dragon companion. Together, Kojai and Lellyr can take on any foe… and when Lellyr dons his battle gear, the undead don’t stand a chance. Armor up the ultimate Ustokal battle dragon, and take on the Zombie army! Includes Kojai and Lellyr. Includes 1 minifigure: Kojai, who is armed with a curved sword and a spearLellyr is fully poseable, with 33 points of articulation including folding wings, moving toes and an opening jawSeat Kojai on Lellyr’s backLellyr features flexible cloth membranes on his wings, lime green spines, and a streamlined bodyArm the dragon for battle with a removable saddle, chains, and five pieces of removable armorLellyr is more than 13” (34cm) long, with a wingspan of over 18” (46cm)64022 Wyvern Attack Pieces: 150 Price: $14.99 USD Use magic to dispel the Wyvern attack! The Ustokal wizard Rothut likes to travel alone. However, this makes the powerful sorcerer a juicy target for Zombie dragon patrols! As he makes his way from the Essoni Desert and into the hills of Ardun, a Wyvern and its Zombie rider swoop down on Rothut, hoping to capture him and bring him to their masters. Will the sorcerer’s magic be enough to stave off the undead scout? Includes Rothut, a Zombie, and a Wyvern dragon. Includes 2 minifigures with assorted weapons and accessories: Rothut and a ZombieWyvern is fully poseable, with 25 points of articulation including folding wings, grabbing talons and a twistable tailWyvern features flexible cloth membranes on its wingsSeat the Zombie on the Wyvern’s backAlso includes a spring-loaded Spell Launcher disguised in a rockWeapons include a scythe and a staffWyvern measures over 9” (24cm) long, with a wingspan of over 15” (39cm)64021 Undead Encounter Pieces: 79 Price: $7.99 USD Protect the Golden Dragon chick from an undead warrior! Wizard’s apprentice Brigid has been sent on a mission into the Ardun forest to rescue the Golden Dragon’s hatchling. She finally finds the baby dragon, but it’s a trap, and she accidentally releases a skeletal Zombie from its spellbinder bubble! Can Brigid summon the Legendary Axe and raise her magical pulse shield in time to defeat the Zombie? Includes Brigid, a Zombie, and the Golden Dragon chick. Includes two minifigures with assorted weapons and accessories: Brigid and a ZombieFeatures a creek bridge and tree, and a spellbinder bubble on a pedestalBridge and pedestal feature cool stony detailing and forest elementsCapture the Zombie in the spellbinder bubble, and open to release the undead warriorLaunch the magical pulse shield to knock over enemiesRetrieve the Legendary Axe from the middle of the bridgeWeapons and accessories include a sword, a crossbow, the Legendary Axe, and a Golden Dragon chickSpellbinder bubble measures almost 3” (7cm) tall------- Thanks for looking! If you want a more in-depth look at the sets, please visit my Flickr Photostream. All comments and critiques are welcomed!