Voltex

EPISODE 03 “Shadow of the Storm” (Part IV) -The Barren- -Virndrung Vatten- IC: Virndrung, Luroka, Toru, Unit, Quad Roka In the chaos of the battle, lying in the dirt, a sword sticking out of his ruined hand, Virndrung’s world narrowed to one hateful sight: Toru Sevoi, still clinging to the edge of the abyss. He heard Luroka and Quad Roka both yelling at Toa Onua, but ignored them, gripping the hilt of the sword with his remaining hand and ripping it out before throwing it at Toru. The Earth Protector ducked his head, and the sword plummeted into the depths. The tremors finally stopped as Onua marched forward, his hammer in hand, the other four Earth Protectors in his party joining him. Captain Narmoto and several of the Fire soldiers stood with them, advancing on the Brotherhood. “Not impressed, Lunatic the Third,” Toru taunted. Virndrung grabbed at a nearby rock with his ruined left hand, flinging it at Toru, but missed widely. A wall of earth rose up before Onua as Luroka screamed at him, but it barely made it to Onua’s knees before crumbling under the Toa’s power. “You’re a failure, just like your father!” Toru called. Growling, his vision red with rage, Virndrung shoved himself to his feet and stomped on Toru’s hand. The Brotherhood leader flinched and released the ledge – but then grabbed onto Virndrung’s ankle with his other hand, yanking him back to the dirt and slowly dragging him toward the fissure. Luroka’s Staff glowed with magic as another wall rose – only for Onua to plow through it a second late, flattening three Brotherhood members with a swing of his hammer. Hands erupted from the earth next, grabbing the Toa’s legs, but Onua easily broke free. Virndrung pulled out his dagger and turned, stabbing Toru in the shoulder. As he twisted the blade, Toru howled in pain, and the ground shook once more as Luroka opened the ground beneath Onua – and Toru let go, plunging into the darkness. Virndrung turned back, scrambling to his feet in time to see both Onua and Narmoto narrowly avoid falling into the new gap. “Onua!” he yelled. “Toru Sevoi is dead!” The world tilted then and he stumbled, nearly collapsing again as shouts rose from the back ranks of the Aodhiim forces. A tall, serpentine figure in black armor with a dual-bladed spear had struck from behind. Vorahk. “Everyone be alert,” Luroka yelled, turning to the Rahkshi. “There’s our quarry!” Onua, Narmoto and their forces had clearly heard, but were forced to keep their attention on the hundreds of Brotherhood members who still lived. One Protector charged at Virndrung, and he danced to the side, pushing them over the edge. Could be worse. Could be better, but it could still be worse, he thought to himself. Toru is dead. He leaned down, snagging a sword that had been abandoned, and began making his way toward Unit. Luroka’s Staff glowed again as a spike of earth rose up and struck Vorahk in the distance, but the earth was too weak, and it crumbled on impact. The Fire soldiers around the Rahkshi were rapidly slowing, seeming more exhausted by the second – and a quick glance back at Onua revealed that the Brotherhood forces, despite their lack of discipline, were quickly beginning to overwhelm the Toa. Spikes rose from the earth, targeting the Brotherhood, but did nothing except momentarily impede the next wave. Virndrung reached Luroka as Quad Roka charged at Vorahk, swinging an oversized sword at the Rahkshi. The Rahkshi met the blow with its staff; on impact, flames hetted out of the sword toward it. Vorahk stumbled back, its armor scorched but otherwise unharmed. Shaking its head, the Rahkshi batted Quad Roka aside, before turning and slaying seven exhausted Fire soldiers, cutting through them as though they were butter. Luroka grimaced, and another wall of earth rose around the Brotherhood, stretching into the sky before collapsing and burying a third of their forces alive. Virndrung flinched at the sight, but Onua and Narmoto ruthlessly pushed forward as a small black, ape-like creature clambered over the collapsed wall, leaping at the nearest Brotherhood member with a snarl. “What do we do?” Virndrung asked, turning to Luroka. Quad Roka tried and failed to stand as Vorahk kicked him to the side, ripping the oversized sword out of his hands. Luroka frowned, concentrating on Onua. Virndrung watched, horror flooding through him as the Staff glowed and Onua suddenly collapsed, his left arm rapidly swelling in size before it burst. Shreds of skin, muscle and armor rained down on the Brotherhood as blood poured from the Toa’s shoulder; Onua howled in pain, swinging his hammer blindly with his remaining hand. “You need to stop,” Virndrung whispered hoarsely, but he knew Luroka hadn’t heard. The Staff flashed in Luroka’s hands, and a resounding crack echoed across the battlefield. Everyone froze. There was absolute silence for a long, drawn out moment- -and then the screaming began. All four of the Earth Protectors with Onua, Narmoto, at least half the Brotherhood and half the Aodhiim forces screamed as their minds snapped and were ripped to pieces, rendered into little more than animals. Vorahk reeled, its face plate opening to reveal a slug-like creature that screeched, twitching madly within its armor in tortured pain. So too did the ape-like creature, which ripped into the nearest Protector in a frenzy – and Quad Roka, who clutched at his head, nails digging in and drawing blood, his eyes wide and wild and blank and empty all at the same time. Virndrung stared at it all, confused and horrified. He had seen this before – a mind being ripped to shreds. It was all too familiar. “What have you done?” he managed, his throat dry. “I solved the problem,” Luroka said. Purple flames shot into the sky from among the Aodhiim forces. Oh no… they were carrying darkfiree. The cloud of purple flame consumed one soldier – and then another, and another, as it spread through the ranks, the other bottles of darkfire set off as well – -and then everything exploded, darkfire shooting in all directions. The slug-like creature squirmed out of its armor just as the darkfire chain reaction went off. In the instant before the world vanished into fire, Virndrung saw the Rahkshi armor disintegrate into thin air as the slug-like creature was cooked. Then he was flying through the air, ears ringing, head pounding, hitting the ground with a thud and staring up at the sky. After a long moment, he struggled to his feet, his ruined hand pulsing steadily with pain – but he distantly realized that he wasn’t burning. He slowly gazed around the battlefield, squinting against the smoke and ash. Luroka was several feet away, his left arm and left leg scorched – and still burning, as his armor melted and fused to his boiling skin. The Staff was at Virndrung’s feet. He slowly crouched and picked it up. Quad Roka was stumbling toward him – no, shambling was more accurate. He didn’t seem injured from the explosion, but his eyes were as blank as the dead’s. His mind was gone. Onua had fallen to his knees, his shoulder still bleeding, though the Toa had managed to escape the brunt of the blast. His hammer lay forgotten at his side as he clutched at his wound. The same couldn’t be said for Unit. The General’s right leg was gone, and darkfire continued to burn his back and the entire right side of his body, including his face. Virndrung winced, knowing that Unit’s mask and armor were already melting and fusing to his skin. Narmoto and the entirety of the Aodhiim forces were gone. Of the Brotherhood, Virndrung was too dazed to count – but it looked like less than a hundred remained, and those still sane were now distracted, forced to defend themselves against those who were little more than beasts. His attention was drawn back to Unit as the General roared, ripping his mask away; the right side of his face was nothing more than one giant, grotesque burn. Ignoring his burned hands, the General fumbled with the dirt in front of him before grabbing the Mask of Fire – only to drop it, his fingers flexing and his lip bleeding from how hard he bit it. He glanced back down at the Staff in his hand. The Staff of Annona, he realized. The source of all magic… extinguish the darkfire…. He pushed all of his resolve into the thought, into the mental command – and, surprisingly, found it entirely successful. A gentle breeze swept through the air, scattering away the smoke and cooling any burns as the darkfire flickered and died. Not again, he decided, fighting the urge to try something new. I’ve seen what happens when it’s used too frequently. He warily approached Luroka, holding out the Staff as the Earth Protector stood. “As I told you before… I will not repeat my father’s mistakes.” Luroka nodded and accepted it before making his way over to Onua. The Staff glowed faintly, but nothing happened. It’s easier to destroy than it is to create, Virndrung thought. “You,” the Toa managed to spit. He sounded even more enraged than he had before, and tired, and pained. “You… have misused that Staff!” Keeping his eye on the two, Virndrung made his way over to Quad Roka, catching the Knight as he fell. “Can you remember your name?” There was no response – but even if there had been, his attention was fixed on Luroka and Onua. “You forced my hand, Onua,” Luroka spat. “What else was I to do? Come on. We have to get you fixed, big guy.” Onua smacked the Protector’s hand away, stumbling several steps before collapsing heavily to the earth, gasping. Luroka moved to help him up again. “Onua, come on, get up. We have to get you some help!” He’ll never accept it from you, Virndrung thought, but he carefully kept the thought to himself. I doubt he’ll ever recognize your authority again. The Toa’s hand fumbled blindly before grasping around the handle of his hammer, and he swung it at Luroka, missing by less than an inch. “BEGONE!” Luroka snarled before stalking away toward Unit. Virndrung sighed, half-dragging Quad Roka with him as he slowly approached the Toa, before slumping down to sit beside him and closing his eyes. -Karamu, Hinterhall- -Reyna Saryian- IC: Reyna, Lan, Tekulo Reyna stood on the steps of the palace with Nidhiki by her side, listening to the sounds of rioting from all over the city. Tekulo and Lan both stood nearby, deep in thought, and a few assorted guards and civilians – all worried – were scattered about the area. “I’ve got an idea of sorts,” Lan said, fingering his chin. “If you would, try and gather the populace around here. I know a way to rally them and reduce the chaos a little.” “I could always offer happy hour at Purple,” Tekulo said. “That could calm them down.” In some bizarre attempt to prove his point, Tekulo chucked a bottle of whiskey at Lan’s back. To his credit, Lan merely scowled at Tekulo before turning back to Reyna, who reluctantly nodded and led them to the central plaza. They had no sooner arrived than the guards with them were forced to fight off several rioting Protectors, and soon, Reyna drew her weapon as well. Nidhiki and Lan did the same. “This is an insulting new level of embarrassing,” Nidhiki muttered. The plaza looked like it had exploded – but Reyna knew it was entirely the fault of the rioting Protectors. Listening to the crowd, she still couldn’t figure out what it was that they were mad about, exactly. It seemed that Lerahk had simply been the final straw. Lan took a deep breath before screaming “HEY!” at the top of his lungs. The rioters turned to them as one. Oh boy. “Hey, it’s the Diplomat!” one Protector yelled. “That’s Reyna Saryian,” said another. “Is that Tekulo? His drinks are the best in the city!” “GET THEM!” The rioters – some armed with actual weapons, others with simple utensils, or metal pots, or other miscellaneous items, started marching toward their group. “Are you kidding me right now?” Lan mumbled, before shouting again, waving one arm for emphasis, while his other hand went to his knife: “Stop! I have important news! Put down your weapons and listen!” “You don’t tell us what to do!” “Yeah, we don’t follow you anymore!” “No! It’s Makani Chloe you don’t follow anymore!” Lan said. “She’s dead! She can’t bring madness to this land anymore!” This isn’t helping, Reyna thought, stepping past Lan to address the rioters herself, making no move to draw a weapon. “Enough! This is not the time to be fighting among ourselves! W-” She was interrupted by cheers erupting from the rioters. “Yay!” “The Makani is dead!” “Death to the Makani!” “We’re free!” “Proud and free! Proud and free!” The rioters continued to march toward them, now chanting the words of Karamu. Reyna fell back as Nidhiki stepped up behind her, whispering into her ear. “I have some bad news about Lan.” Eyeing both Lan and the rioters, she nodded subtly. “He’s going to get us killed,” Nidhiki hissed in her ear. “He’s working for Vinheim.” “What?!” “I found some scrolls in his office,” Nidhiki said, pulling her back behind Lan. “Messages between the two. I don’t know how, but they’re still in contact. Vinheim promised him Karamu, so long as Lan pledges Karamu to him.” Lan yelled at the crowd again before she could reply. “Cease your advancing at once! Is that any way to herald your new Makani?!” She turned her gaze toward Lan with a piercing stare, cold realization flooding through her. “It was you,” she said quietly. Lan scowled at her. “I told you, decapitation is a sword job. Do I look like the kind of schmuck to go around carrying a sword?” The rioters halted in place. One, who seemed to be their leader, stepped forward. “Who is this new Makani?” they asked. “And why should we listen to them?” “Because I will do what the old Makani could not,” Lan said. “I will keep the peace in Karamu.” “Do not listen to him!” Reyna cut in sharply. “This man is a traitor, and a liar! His idea of peace is not what you think it is!” Lan tried to kick her as the rioter asked him, “how do we know that you can keep the peace?” “I’m a Diplomat. It’s kind of my job,” Lan said, gesturing at her. “And this woman is the one you shouldn’t listen to. Her mother was the mad Makani Chloe.” “You would protect us by selling us out!” Reyna snapped, stepping away from Lan as she directed her next words to the crowd. “You want to be proud and free? You won’t be if he’s in charge.” She paused, hesitating, glancing over her shoulder back at Nidhiki, who nodded encouragingly. She turned back to the rioters. “Parents don’t need to influence how a person acts. Do you think I wish to see any of these horrors continue? We are a breath away from inciting war just by living. I want to prevent that. Lan wishes to sell you to a dictator.” The rioters mumbled among themselves, and Reyna grew worried. They aren’t convinced. “Shut your mouth, woman,” Lan spat. She scowled, glaring at him. “I have a name.” “Look, you need proof that I can lead us to peace?” Lan said, ignoring her in favor of the crowd. “I’ll give you all the proof you need. Put me in charge, and I’ll put action behind my words. You’ve heard that Makani Chloe was mobilizing our armies to destroy our fragile relationship with the other nations. I’ll end that mobilization, and launch a campaign to restore our relations to a state unlike anything during the old Makani’s reign.” “By selling us out to Vinheim Maran,” Reyna cut in again, pointing a finger at him. “I want the exact same thing, except by keeping our proper freedom! Do you really believe a rule under the general thumb of a dictator is the way to freedom? Is that not why we went into our own nations to begin with?” She shook her head, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t know what happened, but Lan was arrested before the Lerahk incident – he somehow escaped before I discovered him. Does that not seem suspicious to anyone?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would never sell us out to Vinheim – that stone-headed monster can go rot in the Barren for all I care,” Lan said, but the denial rang false to Reyna’s ears. “I was arrested trying to warn the Makani about this mess! Lerahk’s rampage was due to her cowardice! Her unwillingness to hear the warnings of her own administration! You should blame her for her actions, not make false accusations against me!” “I blame my mother for a lot of things,” Reyna snapped back. “For getting us into this mess of tension, for one.” She took a deep breath to calm herself before she continued speaking. “However, there is nobody still alive to confirm your claims about why you were locked up. The palace guards were dead. The Makani herself is dead. And you claim that you were sleeping the entire time, in a coincidence that leads to you being freed and your goal now in sight, so conveniently placed for you to try and assume control over the entire nation. I don’t believe in coincidences that intertwine this much.” “Believe it.” “Despite the fact that there are scrolls confirming your correspondence with Vinehim?” she asked. “Prove it,” Lan challenged. “You make such spurious claims! Prove them! Where are these scrolls? Where are they? Produce them!” Nidhiki stepped forward, hopefully intending to do just that – or at least point them all in the right direction, as Reyna truly had no idea where the scrolls would be now. Unfortunately, the rioters chose that moment to begin chanting once more, continuing their march. Neither she nor Lan had convinced them, and they had fallen back on their hostilities. “Er… we can argue later,” Lan said hurriedly. “Right now we need to quell this situation, and fast.” He was already too late – the first wave of rioters was upon them. Reyna flinched as one swung a sword at her, only to fall to the ground as Tekulo shoved her away. The sword missed its intended target – her stomach – but did slash across her left eye, and Reyna cried out in pain and shock. She clutched at her eye (or rather, where her eye had been) as blood ran down her face. With her remaining eye she saw a pitchfork stab through Tekulo’s shoulder. “Don’t just lie there!” Nidhiki snapped, yanking her to her feet and pushing her behind him. He swore as his arm was slashed open from wrist to elbow on the outside, and over his shoulder, Reyna watched as Lan collapsed entirely, having been stabbed in his stomach, shoulder, thigh, and even through one of his hands. “Screw you, Tekulo!” The Diplomat screeched. “Fall back to the palace! Fall back!” “He’s just mad ‘cause he got stabbed,” Tekulo muttered, stumbling over to help her stand. “Kill them all!” the lead rioter shouted. “Kill them-” He was cut off as a dagger flew from behind Reyna and buried itself into his throat up to the hilt. The lead rioter toppled back into the crowd, choking on his own blood. “Neat,” said Tekulo. It was Nidhiki who turned first, the crowd having momentarily stilled, to notice who had thrown the dagger at the rioters. Reyna turned as well, a little dizzy, and found a Protector wearing rusted navy armor. Against all odds, Lan managed to stumble over to them. “We have to go now. They’re distracted. Get to the palace….” He trailed off, coughing up blood. The Diplomat collapsed to his knees. Nidhiki, scowling down at him, kicked him in the chest back toward the crowd of rioters – who burst back into motion as Lan fell toward them. The Diplomat vanished in seconds, and Reyna doubted that he had survived the experience. “Come on,” Nidhiki ordered, clutching at his bloody arm and stalking toward the navy armored figure. “Right…” Reyna mumbled to herself as Tekulo half-dragged her toward the figure. "Right..." Reyna mumbled half to herself, before she grabbed for Tekulo's arm, to help drag him out of the crowd and back to the palace. As they reached the newcomer, the world around them vanished – before they found themselves and their three surviving guards back in the throne room. Reyna swayed, and would have fallen if not for Tekulo catching her. “Sort yourselves out,” the figure ordered, appearing mildly panicked and clutching a transparent crystal in one of his hands. “I don’t have time to stay – I’m being called to the North. You need to put someone in charge and re-establish order in the city. Your Loremaster is in Arcadia right now, helping to defeat Keetongu… if he’s successful, Lewa should re-gain his sanity.” He took a deep breath, before disappearing. “Wha…” she trailed off again as the figure vanished, before frowning. “I don’t….” “That’s Sahmad for you,” Nidhiki said. “But he’s right. We have lots to do.” -The Earth Region- -Ehksidian Glacies- IC: Ehks, Dallior(A. Entrance) She stumbled out of the fog, still screaming in both surprise and terror. Velika, Piruk and Photok all stumbled out after her, as if the four of them were tethered together by an invisible rope. They were still in the Barren – or rather, she quickly realized, the Earth Region, hundreds of years in the past. There was no doubt in Ehks’s mind that Kulta had pulled them into the Long Night. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no…. Ehks glanced around in a panic, trying to take stock of their situation. They were the exact opposite of safe; Photok stood only because Piruk was now practically carrying him, and Kulta stood before her. “Ehksidian Glacies,” the Titan said, crouching before Ehks and leaning to stare into her eyes. “You seek to break the bonds of time….” I-I seek to f-find what was lost to history. T-to stop the Great War from d-destroying Okoto,” Ehks stammered. Simply being this close to Kulta was utterly terrifying; the sheer vile energy emanating from the Tian was almost palpable. Surprisingly, the mention of the Great War seemed to distract Kulta. It was only for a split second – but her gaze seemed to clear, as though a veil had, at least temporarily, been lifted. “The Great War,” Kulta said slowly, curiosity lacing her tone. “It is the end of everything. The end of the universe. The prophecies tell that everything before it is just a prelude… but I have no heard it mentioned in centuries. How did you come to know of its coming?” The Titan reeled suddenly before Ehks could respond, now seeming confused. “But wait… we have spoken of this before….” Ehks shook her head, her thoughts cloudy. “I do not recall speaking of this to you before. Or any… other meetings like this.” “We spoke centuries ago,” Kulta said, sounding dazed. “You wished to know of the Great War, and how to stop it. I looked… I looked, and I saw naught but destruction. The world’s inevitable fate. It was the spark that began my mission. It pushed me down the path, to achieve Okoto’s destiny.” “A future past,” Velika murmured beside her. “…I see,” Ehks muttered, growing worried. “Was this within the Temple of Histories?” Kulta’s eyes seemed to dim for a moment, before gleaming more brightly. “I look only forward. There is only the end. Okoto’s end.” The Titan’s attention – and Ehks’s – was momentarily derailed, as several Skull Warriors and Undead gathered around them struck at an Earth Protector who had managed to infiltrate their ranks. Before the Earth Protector died, however, she threw a jar onto the dirt. There was an explosion of purple flames – darkfile, Ehks realized – as Undead and Skull Warriors alike both burned. With the sudden distraction, Ehks stepped back to check up on Photok, and see if Velika could re-activate the Mask of Time. The Mask Maker was trying; Piruk was now kneeling, Photok laying against him. The Stone Protector’s breaths were labored. She turned back to Kulta. “They seek to distract me with only six Protectors,” Kulta murmured to herself, eyes fixed on the Western Wall, which, Ehks noted, wasn’t too far away – close enough that she could make out five more Protectors standing atop it. “They will block the path.” Taking off her cloak and handing it to Piruk to form a makeshift bandage for Photok, Ehks watched as four of the Earth Protectors charged into the horde of Undead and Skull Warriors. Behind them, the Western Wall blew up in a huge ball of purple fire – one that continued to burn even as the Earth Protectors found themselves not killed, but instead shunted into the center of the horde with Ehks and her companions. One of them seemed to recognize Velika, though the idea seemed to simultaneously confuse him. Kulta loomed over them all. “Interesting,” Kulta said, as the Undead and Skull Warriors all fell still. “The paths for five of you lead you back to me, centuries ago… but three of you end here.” Three. Three deaths. Ehks stiffened. She was still panicked, and yet, a part of her was calm. She wasn’t going to die here… but the others might. She fell to the ground at Photok’s side, helping to bandage him up. “You’ll make it,” she whispered. “It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” Kulta’s gaze swept over Velika, and returned to her. “You do not die here. You will continue on, and set me on my rightful path.” The Titan turned to the leader of the Earth Protectors. “Your companions, however, will not.” Adrenaline still pumped through her body, but Ehks was feeling less panicked now. Photok, hopefully, would survive. She shot a glance at the new arrivals, but they were remarkably calm. “That’s what you think, freak,” their leader said. “Voltex warned me this would be a suicide mission, but I don’t have to accept it. Men, support the wounded.” Two of the leader’s companions rushed to cover Photok, one jumping into a defensive position while the other took over the bandaging. The third remained by their leader, a jar of darkfire gripped in his hand. “You are a fool,” Kulta said. “You cannot stop destiny.” As one, three Skull Warriors stepped forward, impaling the three Earth Protectors with their swords. Ehks flinched as the blood of the one next to Photok splattered over herself and the Stone Protector. The leader’s closest companion dropped his jar of darkfire, but Kulta caught it, staring down at them all as the Mask of Time began to glow once more on Velika’s face. The fogs of time swirled around them once more before they shot into the past, and Ehks shivered as Kulta, unmoving, stared at them until the Titan, too, had disappeared. “I’m sorry,” she muttered half-heartedly toward the remaining Earth Protector. “This is my fault. All of it.” “Don’t be – it was our choice to interfere. At least we have a chance to escape alive. It’s just a shame Lord Vohon didn’t give us more darkfire,” the Earth Protector said, kneeling across from her and picking up where his compatriot left off. “Here, let me help. I’m Dallior, by the way. Dallior Qendroj.” Wait, Ehks thought, sharing a glance with Piruk, remembering Velika’s Wall of History. Like Velika’s name during the War for the Throne? A quick glance to the Mask Maker had him nodding – his identity during the rule of Voxumo Ash and Pulse Vatten had been based upon the Earth Protector with them now.” Velika met Dallior as Lord Vohon Aodh, she realized, remembering that the Fire Ruler during the Long Night had been another of Velika’s many assumed identities. Dallior’s willingness to sacrifice his life for the greater good must have impressed him. Dallior clearly noticed the looks, and turned to Velika. “Hey now, what’s all that? Is there something about me you know that I don’t? Because I’d sure like to know it.” “We just recognize you,” Ehks said quietly. “That’s all.” The Earth Protector was still suspicious, but seemed to accept the answer. He shrugged. “Seems like a good excuse. Who could forget this handsome mask?” “Yes, yes. Of course,” Ehks said, glancing back down at Photok. “I hope he makes it.” “I’m sure he will. We all will,” Dallior said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than her. “Kulta is a blind fool. Besides, I’ve still got a jar of darkfire with her name on it.” Ehks sighed. “I would… recommend against using it when we arrive at our destination. It won’t be a good idea to attack her.” “Sage advice,” Dallior said. “I’d best just save it to take down more of the wall.” “…about that,” Piruk said. Ehks spoke slowly, and carefully. “We’re not going somewhere. We’re going… somewhen.” “We’re what?! So what did I just send all of my companions to die for? Karz… when Voltex and Ekimu said this was a suicide mission, they darn well meant it.” “Calm yourselves, and get ready,” Piruk interrupted, before the Earth Protector could really get into his rant. “The images in the fog – they’re starting to slow down.” “Oh, I’m ready alright,” Dallior muttered, turning to Photok. “Are you going to… oh. He’s passed out.” Ehks took a deep breath. “He’ll need help. He’s stable for now, but….” “I can carry him if needs be,” Dallior said. “But it’d be best if we find allies in the area who can take him somewhere safe. You… do have allies in the area, right?” “I have no idea,” Ehks admitted. “Well… this will be fun.” Around them, the fog slowly dissipated and the world reappeared. It was a sunny day, warm and bright, without a cloud in the sky. The air felt… different, somehow. Fresh, and crisp. There was something else in the air, too. The world around them seemed to hum, almost as if it were alive. She could feel her aches and pains receding. It was a wondrous feeling. She stood, looking around. It was… strange, to see the Earth Region in such a peaceful, wonderful state. “We’re here,” she whispered, and the words seemed to dance, a musical tone to them. “Are we… in the right place?” “Time before time,” Velika said, his voice as musical as hers, though he still sounded dazed and out of breath. The Mask Maker stood, swaying in place. She reached over to steady him. “You must be exhausted. Just rest a bit, okay? And thank you.” She took in a deep breath, a buzz running through her as she did, and slowly exhaled. “Okay. We’re in the right time, so we just need to find the Temple itself. Dallior, Piruk, can you two carry Photok? I doubt I’m strong enough to carry him myself.” “Temple?” Dallior asked. “What have I gotten myself wrapped up in?” Ehks opened her mouth to answer, only to gasp as Piruk reached out to pick up Photok… only for the Stone Protector to float into his arms before her eyes. “…what.” “Whoa,” Dallior said, stumbling back, an incredulous look on his face. “First this guy can time travel-” he waved at Velika “-now we have a telepath? What’s next, are you going to sprout wings and fly away?” “This is as surprising to you as it is to me,” Ehks retorted. “I don’t have any magic. We might have the Mask of Time, but… that was all I thought we had.” She turned to Piruk. “How are you doing that?” “I… I don’t know,” Piruk said, sounding stunned. “It just… happened.” “Velika?” she tried, turning to the Mask Maker. “Do you know why?” “Life,” Velika said, still sounding dazed. “Magic.” “…magic all around,” Ehks said, nodding. “Well… in that case, we should get moving. Can you move, Velika, or do you need rest?” The Mask Maker pointed into the distance, at a tower that stretched high into the sky, gleaming white. The Temple of Histories. He began to walk. She nodded, motioning to both Dallior and Piruk. “Let’s go. Time is of the essence.” To her surprise – and Piruk’s – the Jungle Protector began to float along at walking speed, still holding Photok in his arms. Seeing this, Velika was soon doing the same. I… wonder if I can do that too? Not sure what to do, she decided to try focus on floating – and while it didn’t quite work, she found herself effortlessly skating along an ever-growing patch of ice. Dallior followed, carried by the earth itself, which moved like a never-ending ocean wave. “That must be what’s in the air,” Ehks said aloud, grinning despite the situation. “You can feel the magic. Okoto must be bursting with it in this time.” Her grin faltered. I hope what we’re about to do isn’t what brings ruin to all of this. “So… when are we?” Dallior asked with amazement. “Long, long ago,” Ehks said. “Well before either of us were born.” “Time before time,” said Velika. “The histories of history.” “And… why are we here? Did you overshoot when you were trying to get us out of certain death, or is there a specific purpose to coming back this far?” “To stop an even bigger catastrophe than the Long Night,” Ehks said. “It’s… after your time. It’s supposed to make the Long Night look like a squabble between children.” Nobody felt much like speaking after that. - An hour later, they found themselves standing outside the Temple of Histories. Its majesty was unlike anything else she had ever seen; Ehks had thought before that the Citadel or Vakama City or Arcadia were revolutionary in their craft, but the Temple of Histories put everything else she’d seen to shame. Its walls shone brightly under the light of the sun. She could see Protectors milling around outside; they all wore silver and gray armor, an unfamiliar combination. If she had to guess, she’d say they were members of the Tribe of Metal, from before they had become the Mask Makers and vanished from Okoto’s shores. “I thought they wandered with Annona,” she whispered. “Didn’t they?” Velika shrugged, and it was Piruk who answered: “perhaps they’re just visiting.” Ehks nodded. “Gods… this is incredible…” she whispered, staring up at the building. For a few moments, she was entranced, before her gaze snapped forward to the entrance, where she could see both Umarak and Kulta standing. I came here with a purpose. It must be fulfilled. She began approaching the two Titans, dreading what she was about to do. It was the only way to stop the war to come. Both turned as she approached, with the others close behind. “Interesting,” Kulta murmured. Her eyes, Ehks noted, were gold in color, and the air felt warm around her; safe. “A Protector of Earth, a Protector of Ice, a Protector of Stone, a Protector of Jungle, and…” she trailed off, staring at Velika curiously before continuing, “…something else. What brings you to the Temple of Histories today?” “We…” Ehks began, before stopping, hesitating. Is this right? To do this to her? To bring about the Long Night? “The future is past,” Velika quietly reminded her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, his voice filled with regret. “The past is already written; the ink is dry.” She took in a deep breath. “We’re here to… learn about something specific. An event that will occur, far in the future.” “That is a dangerous question to ask, young one,” Kulta said, before frowning at Photok and waving Umarak over. “Umarak, this one is hurt.” Umarak knelt before Piruk, resting his hand on Photok. Photok seemed to glow as his wound healed, before sleepily opening his eyes. “Wuzzgoinon?” “Thank you for healing my friend,” Ehks said quietly. “And yes… it is dangerous.” She glanced to Velika, who nodded, and back to Kulta, her terror mounting. “I… I’m sorry. We’ve travelled from far in the future. We came here to… to learn if there’s a way to stop the Great War.” Both Titans froze. Umarak turned, shaking his head at Kulta and resting a hand on her shoulder. “Look in the Temple of Histories,” he said, and the command was clear. “The Temple will guide you to what you seek. If, after, you still must ask us… we will be here.” Ehks nodded. “Thank you.” Piruk and Photok remained with the Titans, but Dallior and Velika both followed her into the Temple. As Umarak claimed, the Temple did guide them in a certain direction, and she followed the pull of the magic, seeing no need to resist. She turned to Velika as they walked. “I’m terrified of what we’ll find. Terrified of what will happen to Kulta.” “As am I,” Velika said softly, speaking plainly now, sounding tired and full of regret. “I have spent the last thousand years on Okoto, trying to help it. Now, I learn that my path has been leading to this moment. I shall be responsible for all of the atrocities that Kulta committed; it might even be what ultimately causes the Great War.” Ehks nodded, sighing. “We travelled back to stop it, and yet… we caused it. We caused the Long Night. All of it.” “It’s dangerous to mess with time,” Dallior said quietly. She sighed again. “It’s too late now. We can’t just turn back. The damage is done – or it will be.” “There might be a way,” Velika said, his gaze turning to the bookshelves that stretched up as high as the eye could see. “The Staff of Annona, the source of all magic. Perhaps… but no, let us discuss it another time.” They reached the end of an aisle, and found a wooden table with a single book resting on its surface. Following the magic’s pull, Ehks looked down, took a deep breath, and opened the book. It flipped open to the beginning of a chapter, marked ‘the Seventh Toa’. To Be Continued in Part V.

Yes

Nice try but I've been confirmed innocent You both just wrecked yourselves

Luroka and Toru are mafia

Voting luroka

I stumbled on the site a couple times between 2004 and 2007, before I finally thought "maybe I should remember what this website is called" and started lurking in 2008. I don't remember much from those days (I think I mostly just checked the news), but in the forums I spent most of my time in Comedies. I remember following A Day in the Life of GregF, checking out The Bionicles Try to Run a House, and reading through My Life With the Bionicles. Finally, the writer in me had enough of just passively reading, and I tried multiple times to join (all of them failing for reasons I don't remember and didn't understand at the time) until I was successful near the end of the year. I started writing comedies promptly. I kinda wish I could still see the first chapter I ever posted; it'd be interesting to compare it to what I can toss together today, almost ten years later.

maybe it was a suicide

EPISODE 03 “Shadow of the Storm” (Part III) -Aodhiim, Vakama City- -Efandril Aodh- IC: Efandril, Bartok They arrived at Vakama City without issue, and found Takua waiting for them at the gates. Efandril greeted him warmly. “I’ve arranged for some of the darkfire to be transferred to Qendroj City,” she said, stepping back. “Ship it as soon as possible. If we can move a third of the darkfire out of Vakama City, I’ll be happy, but settle for a quarter if you think it’s too dangerous.” “Of course, my lady,” Takua said, leading her, Bartok, and the ten soldiers accompanying them into the city. “I received a report from Captain Kapura. I’m meant to pass it onto the Imperator, but… perhaps you could do so? He says that he found RG II in Arcadia, but was forced to kill him when he became hostile.” This news seemed to pique Bartok’s interest, but Efandril ignored it for now, allowing sympathy to show on her face. “Of course, Takua. I will inform the Imperator of the bad news.” It’s regrettable, I know,” Takua said. “Kapura is resting for now, if you’d like to meet with him. If not… is there anything else I can assist you with?” “I’ll have a word with him,” she said, sensing that Bartok wished to speak with Takua in private – as if Takua wouldn’t report everything they spoke about to her anyway. “You two can keep each other company in the meantime. Just point me to where he’s resting.” - She found the hostel where Kapura was staying, and was allowed inside. She thanked the Protector who had led her to his room before pushing the door open and stepping inside. “Captain Kapura?” “Lady Efandril,” Kapura said. He was standing over a table with a map of Okoto, no doubt running mock military scenarios. His current game seemed to involve Aodhiim and the Brotherhood being forced to ally against enemies from the South. “How can I help you?” She shut the door behind her, before speaking in a low tone. “I simply wanted to offer you my… condolences for the happenings in Karamu. Truly a… tragedy.” Kapura nodded, looking solemn. “A tragedy indeed, for such an idol of Aodhiim to have fallen so far. I’m afraid he never did share his reasons for hiding in the jungle with anyone. Unfortunate.” Efandril considered the words for a moment, a look of contentment on her face. “Shame. And how are you holding up from this ruinous venture?” “I’m taking some time for myself, and for my squad,” Kapura said. “I’m going to be gathering all of my loyal soldiers and travelling to Silodas soon, to hold a funeral.” Neither mentioned that doing so would, conveniently, remove said loyal troops out of harm’s way. “Good luck,” she replied, “and may the spirit rest his soul.” At this, she stepped forward, holding the Captain in a half-embrace and pushing her forehead to that of her comrade. She spoke in a whisper, despite the apparent security of their position. “After the funeral… put the idea in someone’s head to hold a feast in the Imperator’s name.” She broke away, and turned to leave, speaking aloud once more. “Good day, soldier.” “You too, my lady.” - It took her no time at all to recollect Bartok and the rest of their travelling companions, and they were soon on their way. Little of note happened during their travels, and a few short days later they were entering Burned Harbor. As was usual for the city, the streets were crowded on the verge of being over-stuffed, flowing with trade and commerce. The city guard would have been nearly invisible to the average Protector’s eyes, though Efandril had long since trained herself to notice even the most miniscule of details. She could see them milling in the crowds and up on building roofs, acting casual as they surveyed the crowds for any hostilities. “You were just here,” she said, gesturing to Bartok. “Make yourself useful. Lead the way.” Bartok led them to the offices of Gavla Lurrun, where one of the few obvious guards of the city stood. The guard appeared to recognize Bartok, and sneered at him. “What do you want?” Efandril stepped forward. “I would like to speak with the esteemed head of House Lurrun.” The guard laughed, scoffing at Bartok. “He already got himself kicked out once for bein’ weak. Maybe you’ll do better.” He stepped aside and opened the door to allow them through. It would be difficult to do worse, she thought sourly, gesturing for Bartok to follow, their guards remaining outside. “Watch and listen closely. Speak only if addressed, and only so much as the address in question warrants.” Her tone was stern, but not malicious – somewhere deep down, she wanted the Diplomat to learn how to do his job, if only so that she didn’t have to. They were led into the office of Gavla Lurrun, who scoffed at the sight of Bartok. “What’s he here for?” “He is here to observe, and hopefully learn something,” Efandril responded, bowing slightly. “But it would be best if we pretended he were not here at all. I am Lady Efandril – it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” “I can’t say I share the pleasure,” Gavla said, sitting back in her chair – and notably failing to offer seats to either of them. “What’s the point of a Diplomat who can’t do his job? I know your old one vanished awhile back… is this weakling truly the best that Aodhiim has been able to scrounge up since then? He’d be just as good to you dead.” “Perhaps,” Efandril replied. “But then we’d have to find a new one.” Gavla snorted. “Anyone would be better than him. I always thought your nation valued strength. I admired you for it; House Lurrun has always valued it as well. It’s why Burned Harbor remains independent from the rest of the South in all but name. But him?” she flapped her hand at Bartok, sneering. “You keep him on your Council of Fire, keep him as your Diplomat… and it makes you look weak. You aren’t a pillar of strength; you’re just pretending to be one.” Efandril opened her mouth to reply, but was beaten to the punch by Bartok. “Well I’m apparently the best we’ve got, so consider yourself lucky we’ve managed to get you a Diplomat to talk to,” he said. “My points from my last attempt to reach thorugh to you as to what we can do still stand, at least, as Efandril can confirm. Militarily, we are at least still a ‘pillar of strength’, as you put it. Efandril scowled, reaching over and backhanding Bartok. The Diplomat was sent sprawling into the wall, and he yelped out a single “sorry!” as he rubbed his face, looking nervous and startled. “Silence yourself,” Gavla said to him, “and let the grown ups speak.” Never mind the fact that he’s the same age as I am, Efandril thought, taking a moment to calm herself before saying what she had intended. “To tell you the truth, Lady Gavla, I believe you are correct.” She pointed to the scolded, decidedly-former Diplomat hunched in the corner. “Were it my choice, I would have had the man stripped of his titled, flogged, and banished for far less of a display than you were forced to endure. For such a display of incompetence, I can imagine no punishment other than death. And yet… Jakura-” she spat the name – “insisted that while I do his job for him, I also teach it to him.” She began to slowly approach Bartok, a hard look on her face. She spared a glance to Gavla as she shifted her coat to reveal a dagger at her hip. “But I have been working for a long time to make it my choice. Do you think now is the time, Lady Gavla? You say you have respected Aodhiim’s strength in times past; I will restore that strength, and restore it tenfold.” “I value strength above all,” Gavla said, slowly standing. “Aodhiim has grown weak – but if you can restore it, grow beyond it, then I will follow you. All I need is proof. Proof that you are capable – that you can, and will, fulfill your claims.” Efandril turned her gaze back toward Bartok, her hand drifting to her dagger to draw it. She took a step, closing the distance between them. Bartok’s eyes went wide, and he opened his mouth. “MURDER! MURDER!” “An attempt to draw the guards,” Gavla murmured. “But mine despise you just as I do… and if her grace has any intelligence at all, your guards are the same.” Her words rang with truth, and were backed up by the silence outside the room. Nobody was coming to save Bartok. The Diplomat sucked in a single breath before lunging at Efandril, grasping for the knife; but she smoothly stepped to the side, avoiding him entirely, before thrusting it into his back. Bartok cried as she tore it out, stumbling over and collapsing onto Gavla’s desk. “Don’t dirty the property of your betters,” she said, calm and composed, as she grabbed him by the neck with her free hand and hauled him off the desk, throwing him back into the corner. The Diplomat slumped down the wall, leaving a streak of blood upon it behind him. He twitched, staring at her with wide eyes, shining with betrayal. Efandril stared down at him impassively as the light in his eyes slowly faded away into the dull blank stare of the dead, the poison coating the blade of her dagger acting faster to kill him than the wound itself. It was Gavla who finally broke the silence, a few long moments later. “I’m impressed.” Efandril turned to her, turning the dagger idly in her hand. “You have my support, my Queen,” Gavla continued, falling to one knee. “By the time you leave this city, Burned Harbor will fly the flag of Aodhiim.” -The South: Northern Border- -Anahera Abissm- IC: Anahera, Terrorsaur At the border between the North and the South, Anahera and Terrorsaur looked out to the northern tundra, accompanied by several guards. “Is there any information about any Mask Makers in the South?” Anahera asked. “Or the reliability of these claims?” “We’ve received no such information on this from Khan Nato,” one of the guards said, shrugging. “I’m afraid the rumors are all we know.” She glanced to Terrorsaur briefly. “And you heard this… directly from Khan Nato?” “It’s being passed along the border,” the guard responded. “We didn’t hear it from the Khan, but out information comes from a reliable messenger with proper identification! If Khan Nato says there is a Mask Maker in the South, then I believe there is good reason to look into it!” Anahera hummed thoughtfully, a serene smile on her face. “Ah. Thank you, guard, for the clarification. And apologies; we can’t be too careful these days, now, can we?” She turned to Terrorsaur, asking softly so that the guards couldn’t hear, “what do you think, Khan?” “I’d trust Nato with my life and everything of mine,” Terrorsaur said firmly – or as firmly as he could as he simultaneously wobbled in place. “Now there’s a man who knows what he’s doing. If they say the message is from him, it is. He’s go no time or tolerance for liars and schemers, no sir.” “Very well. What do you suggest we do about this Mask Maker?” she asked. “With no information or leads, it’ll be quite hard to find them – and time consuming. If we weren’t certain this message was from Khan Nato, I’d worry someone might have passed false information along simply to waste our time.” She smiled. “But we’re absolutely sure, aren’t we? The messengers had the proper authority, and I trust these guards. I worry too much, I suppose. So what to do?” “Hard to say…” Terrorsaur trailed off, fumbling at his side and frowning when he didn’t find it. “If mem’ry serves, Mask Makers are the secretive type. Puttin’ out a big notice that we’re looking for one won’t do us any favors. But we’re runnin’ on a short schedule.” Anahera nodded, smiling patiently. “A good point. Let’s put together what we know. We do not know who they are, or where they are – but there are reports of magic near Burned Harbor. That might be the proper place to start. Even if there is no Mask Maker there, we can perhaps take two birds down with one stone.” “That sounds like a plan. You’re very clever,” Terrorsaur said. “We’ll head back to the city, get something together….” “If I could be so bold,” Anahera said slowly, now appearing hesitant, “perhaps I could save you significant time and effort. If I were to use your mask, I could travel to the affected area in better time and begin an investigation. After all, a single person with a powerful mask can act more quickly and more discreetly. It will give the Mask Maker less time to hide or run, if they are so inclined.” She sighed. “I do hope they’re keen to help. But I am told I can be very persuasive. In my… points and proposals, that is. Ha ha.” “Very well, very well….” Terrorsaur rather unceremoniously removed the Mask of Water from his face, replacing it with his own. He then held the Mask of Power out to her. “Please take care of it, and be safe. This mask holds more for me than just its power.” She accepted the mask, reverent, awed. She could barely pull her eyes away from it to say, with the utmost sincerity: “Thank you. I’ll… I’ll take care of the mask. You have my word. Thank you.” Anahera felt her heart hammering in her chest. Holding the Mask of Water… it felt like too much power to bear. But she did not move to hand it back, nor did any doubt waver her judgement. This was her fate. She was meant to hold this mask. To wear it. Use its power. She removed her own mask, and carefully, as though afraid it would crumble to dust if held incorrectly, placed the Mask of Water on her face. It was as if seeing through new eyes. Her senses felt like they suddenly stretched far beyond her, all around her. Flowing, ebbing, ready to moved, just like any other part of her body. Her blood sang. She could sense the puddles on the ground and the vapor in the air, like extensions of herself. Muscles that she could flex on instinct, like parts of her that had been missing all this time. It was more than just seeing, it was feeling, sensing, knowing. She could have lost her mind, exposed to these new and all-encompassing senses, but she held firm, processing them, sorting the information and filing it away. She was destined to have this power; she would control it. Wondrously, she moved her arm through the air, and felt the water vapor move with her. Everything that moved, that lived, all around her, tiny particles causing ripples and all moving so beautifully. Tears came to her eyes, and she felt them, too. “Thank you,” she whispered again. She stared at Terrorsaur, the eyeholes of the mask at once foreign and naturally familiar. The Khan too looked both the same and yet different; she could see… feel… sense something, beneath his skin. Just below the surface of everyone around her, even herself. Life. Life in its most pure and symbolic form, pulsing in an intricate tapestry throughout their bodies. Moving as one, a spiderweb of cracks in broken glass, filled with an elixir that called to her more than any other source. She saw how it moved, knew its movements intimately, first seen in diagrams and in opened bodies but now before her in its natural state, a source of life so pure and powerful that she could not look away. She saw patients saved, patients lost, life restored and ended and transferred and removed and added and altered and diluted and concentrated and And And A patient came through her doors, wounded. Ma had seen what they did. Anahera preserved life, as Ma wanted. They would never do wrong again. They couldn’t, not when their frontal lobe was severed and And it was beautiful. She hesitated, not being fond of touch, but clasped Terrorsaur’s hand in both of her own anyway. Life thrummed under her fingertips, inside them, even. “I’m going to Burned Harbor. I will prove myself worthy of bearing this mask. I will do whatever I can to ensure unity and life are protected here, and I will never forget your kindness. If you require anything of me, you need only ask.” She smiled, her eyes gleaming with pure, genuine benevolence. For she was benevolent and good. Terrorsaur looked at her with something between awe and confusion, too drunk and far from used to this kind of interaction with anyone. He nodded after a moment’s pause. “I’ll keep that ‘n mind. You best be off then, and I’ll head back to Ignika. Maybe somethin’ happened while we were gone.” “Of… of course.” Something ached at the back of her mind; a noise that wasn’t a noise, the vibrations of so many drums thundering just under the realm of hearing. It wasn’t maddening. Barely distracting, even, but it was there and it wouldn’t be going away. She released his hand and bowed her head respectfully, her mask – her mask, feeling so familiar though she had only just received it, as if it had always been meant for her – gleaming in the light. “Farewell, Khan Terrorsaur,” she said, her smile serene, her mind clear. “I do hope our paths cross again.” There was no point delaying. She reached out, and she felt something reach back. A barrel of rainwater exploded, its contents spilling and racing to her, lifting her up. She pointed, and it carried her away, the drums fading – all but one, which grew faster and faster as she went. -Kamuk, New Makuta City- -Vinheim Maran- IC: Vinheim, Quin(A. Entrance) He woke slowly. The light of the torches hurt his eyes, and a migraine was pounding at his skull. It took him three tries to sit up, but as he did, he noticed that his left arm did nothing more than flop uselessly at his side. His thoughts were scattered, drifting from one to another. He tried to concentrate on his current location. It appeared to be a bedroom of some kind; very sparse, most likely kept for guests. He pushed himself off the bed to stand and look for a mirror, but immediately fell to the floor, his right leg crumpling underneath him. It was responding, at least, unlike his left arm, but it still felt extraordinarily weak. At the sound of him hitting the floor, the door flew open. A Protector of Stone who was vaguely familiar to him rushed inside, crouching next to him; a second stood in the open doorway. “Your grace?” the one crouching next to him asked. “Are you okay?” Vinheim had the terrible feeling that he should know the Protector’s name, that he recognized them from somewhere, but for the life of him, he could not remember. “No… I am not okay,” Vinheim mumbled, trying to stand to his feet, gesturing to the Protector. “But I am alive, at least. Help me stand. I wish to see myself in the mirror.” “As you wish, your grace,” the Protector said, helping him to his feet. The first thing he noticed as they helped him to stand was that he was apparently taller than them. Vinheim was forced to lean down so that they could assist him. Once he was in front of the mirror, he found that physically, he seemed uninjured – though it was only his face that he recognized, for the rest of his body had grown and stretched. Had he not known Pohatu, he would have found the form entirely alien to him. “Now as horrible as I was expecting,” he muttered, turning to the Protector in the doorway. “Gather Daggerfall’s best doctors, and have them report here.” He then turned to look down at the familiar Protector. “We are in Daggerfall, correct?” “Daggerfall?” the familiar Protector asked, shaking their head. “No, sir. We’re in New Makuta City. In the prison, to be exact. It was the safest location to hold you until you could recover.” “The best doctors in New Makuta City, then, with a missive sent forward to Daggerfall for Ahkmou Umrik,” Vinheim corrected. “What is your name, by the way? Your face rings bells in my memory, but I’m afraid stress has stripped your name from my mind’s records.” The Protector frowned, looking up at him worriedly. “I’m the Warden, sir. Hafu Archean. You’ve got some prisoners awaiting transfer to Daggerfall, I think.” The Protector in the doorway disappeared, soon returning with another in tow. The newcomer held what appeared to be a wooden walking stick in their arms. “That’s why you look familiar,” Vinheim mused distractedly, eyeing the newcomer. “Hopefully there were no negative side effects from your encounter with Sahmad?” “None.” Vinheim limped toward the newcomer with Hafu’s aid. “How long was I out for? How far has knowledge of my accident gone? Has Ahkmou been informed?” “Nobody outside of those present for the accident – and myself – knows anything,” the Warden promised, as the newcomer handed Vinheim the walking stick. “You’ll need this,” the newcomer said. “You won’t be walking on your own for quite some time, and I doubt you’ll use your arm ever again. Whatever you did out there… it has damaged pathways in your mind. If you’ll forgive me any offense, your mind isn’t going to be what it used to be. I’m sorry I can’t be of more use to you.” There was a moment of silence, as Vinheim contemplated the situation he now found himself in. “Well… those are the risks one must take to ensure the safety of their people. Luckily it wasn’t my right arm, given my penchant for using it. Would have hated to need to train myself all over again with my off-hand.” He chuckled, turning back to the Warden. “You mentioned prisoners? I presume Quin and Pouks did not prove to be a hassle? And again, how long have I been out for?” “They haven’t been a hassle,” Hafu said. “You’ve been out for two days.” Vinheim shook his head, sighing. “Have them ready for transfer to Daggerfall. My forces are still within the city?” He took a few slow steps, using the walking stick to support himself as he exited the room. The Warden followed. “Your forces are outside the city. The Rahkshi was sighted nearby, so they’ve gone to prevent it from reaching us.” “Rahkshi?” Vinheim asked, the word meaning nothing to him. “What is that? And are the soldiers having any luck?” The Warden gave him a strange look, but shrugged. “Can’t say. They left only a few hours ago – we won’t receive another report for awhile yet, I imagine.” They arrived at the cells of Quin and Pouks minutes later. The two had been placed in separate cells across from each other. The Warden looked to him expectantly, but Vinheim only frowned as he stared at Quin, unable to recall why Quin was his prisoner. No matter how hard he tried, the details remained out of reach, like an object on a high shelf. Think, Vinheim, think. Why did you keep Quin alive? You had to have something in mind to not outright kill him? Why bother with such tactics? He looked over both prisoners, noting that they seemed uninjured. They came willingly. I must have offered something to get him to lay down his arms… but what did I offer? What would make Quin agree to re-imprisonment? Gah! “…you’re not in great shape, huh?” Quin asked. “Such is the hardship that comes with being King,” Vinheim commented, staring down at the General. “Though you seem remarkably well, all things considered. I admit, I’m curious… do you know why you are in this cell? I would hope you’d know, but sometimes our perception of reality makes a fool of us, and we find injustices where there are none.” Quin didn’t seem fooled in the slightest, though the General also didn’t appear to have any idea about what was truly wrong. “The guards brought me in when you collapsed. But Pouks shouldn’t be here. We had an agreement.” Vinheim turned to regard Pouks, looking the rookie over. “I remember.” I don’t, but he doesn’t need to know that. “It was a very stressful situation for all involved,” he continued. “I’m sure my soldiers were just acting on protocol, given that their King had just collapsed. As per our arrangement, however, Pouks Petros will be provided what was promised. Do you know what that means for you?” The General looked grim. “I’m getting old, Vinheim. A shorter lifetime means nothing. Just let the rookie live.” Seems I promised him the boy’s freedom in return for his own execution… I still don’t know why I wanted him executed, but at least I know he did something to warrant my ire. And criminal charges. “He will live, don’t worry about that. However… you might have some use still. Executing you for your crimes would be too simple. No…” he trailed off, before making his decision. “You will join me in my journey to save Toa Pohatu. You will risk your life for the people of Kamuk. You may die, or you may live, but if you do perish… at least it will be with honor, and your name redeemed.” “I see,” Quin said slowly, sounding confused. “Do you have any other leads regarding a cure for the Toa’s condition?” “I know a location; but we will speak further in Daggerfall.” Vinheim turned to Pouks. “As for you… the agreement still stands, but I offer you a choice. Will you join Quin and myself in a quest for the betterment of Kamuk, and perhaps even redemption? Or will you escape with your life?” Pouks glanced between the two of them before seeming to decide. “I’m coming with you,” he said firmly. “…are you sure?” Quin asked. “I’m with you,” the rookie said. “Exile can wait.” “Alright then, soldier.” “With that out of the way, you shall both remain shackled until we reach Daggerfall,” Vinheim said, looking to the Warden. “Get these two ready for transport, and prepare a small security detail for me. My soldiers might be busy for quite some time.” The Warden bowed. “As you wish, your grace.” -The South- -Reisen Tyde- IC: Reisen, Pythia (A. Entrance) Reisen came to on the familiar beaches of the South – but far from its southern shores. He found himself instead further north, near the border. Standing over him with a concerned look on her face was a Protector of Water that he couldn’t quite place. “Are you alright?” they asked. His first reaction was to roll over onto his hands and knees, coughing up what felt like a lung full of seawater. He winced at the bitter taste it left in his mouth, pounding his chest as he continued to cough, before finally retching one last bit of seawater. Reisen took a long, slow breath before releasing it, continuing to breathe raggedly for several moments, lungs on fire, before groaning. “I’m not dead,” he finally answered. “That’s good to hear,” the Protector said, offering a hand to him. “I was worried when I dragged you out of the water. Part of me thought you were a goner. What’s your name?” “Reisen Tyde, Naval Commander,” he said, rising on his own before shaking her hand. “Where are we?” “Close to the border. Consider yourself lucky you didn’t wash up in the North – they’re in full quarantine now.” Reisen looked worriedly to the north, before turning back to her. “We must be near Ignika City then. I need to get back there.” “We’re pretty close,” she said, shrugging. “I could use a favor, though, if you’re interested in helping me out?” “You saved my life. Whatever you desire, should it be within my ability to grant it to you, I shall,” Reisen promised. “I want you to help me find my father,” the woman responded. “Help me find Onaku Greavesey.” Reisen gave her a second, closer look – and he knew his surprise showed on his face. “I… cannot promise results, but I’ll do my best. Have you any leads?” Marah Vatten, come south at last. Will wonders never cease? “Only fragments,” she said, “but I’ve heard there might be a Mask Maker in the South, and I’ve heard of some trouble with magical talismans in Burned Harbor. I only have suspicions, but it might be worth looking into.” Reisen considered it for a moment, the talismans having piqued his interest. “…I believe one of my compatriots has already begun investigating Burned Harbor. I’ll check on their progress as soon as I’m able.” “I’m headed there myself,” Marah said. “If my father is there, then it’s where I need to be. We can go to Ignika City to gather some supplies, and head to Burned Harbor from there – if you still wish to carry out your favor.” “Right. Supplies… and I need to let my men know I’m alive.” A beat passed, before Reisen added: “Again.” - Many of his men had already returned to the southern capital, and those who knew what had happened looked very relieved to see him alive. He spotted Idris among the crowds, a look of shock on her face, and she hurried over. “I hope this won’t become a habit, Commander.” “I’m not much a fan of it either,” he said drily. “I need to sail for Burned Harbor. Ready me a vessel, would you?” Idris nodded. “At once, Commander.” She glanced momentarily at Marah, but then moved on to carry out his orders. Marah raised an eyebrow. “A habit?” “I… had a long experience prior to washing out to sea,” he explained. “After which I returned to my crew, who had thought me lost. Then I nearly drowned.” “Sounds like you’ve had a few days,” Marah remarked. “You could say that.” - Thankfully, the voyage down to Burned Harbor was less exciting than his recent travels had been. Once the ship was docked, he stepped from the gangplank, Marah and Idris right behind him, and recognized Pythia Rayne nearby, discussing something with one of the fishermen. “Pythia!” He called. “I’d heard you were on the case around these parts! I’ve got someone who might be of interest to you!” “Good to see you as well,” Pythia said as they approached, saying goodbye to the fisherman before focusing on them. “Any word from my uncle?” The Loremaster jumped as Marah stepped into view before grinning. “How did you find her?” “No word from Khan Terrorsaur as of late,” Reisen replied. “I’ve been embroiled in another conflict. Which is how I found Ms. Vatten. She… was the one to drag me out of the water at the end of my latest fiasco.” “I see,” Pythia murmured, nodding. “I’m searching for the source of the cursed talismans. My last lead was a merchant named Handric Sayle, who was distributing them, but he claims that the actually come from Oarsong. They’re the creations of a drunkard, apparently.” “I find that somewhat hard to believe,” Reisen said slowly. “Convenient that Oarson is half a day’s sailing from here, as well. Plenty of time for this merchant to vanish into the wild.” Marah shook her head, placing a hand on his arm before he could turn to order a search. “My father… for him to have vanished for this long without sharing word… I doubt he’s in his right state of mind. I don’t wish to find him a drunkard, but it’s possible that it is him – and if it isn’t, these talismans must come from our Mask Maker.” Reisen sighed. “Very well. Come with us, Pythia. My ship will get us to Oarsong in no time.” - They soon arrived at the shores of Oarsong Island. It was a small island with little more than a humble fishing village, its docks so small that they had to anchor out in the bay and paddle in with a lifeboat. Reisen was off the lifeboat practically the moment it touched the docks. To the tavern, he decided. Best place to find a drunk. “Where to?” Pythia asked, as she and Marah joined him. “The tavern.” They made their way to the run-down, dilapidated tavern. As they approached, the sea shanties from inside turned to a more somber sounding song, although the lyrics were a bit unclear. “Look,” Marah said, pointing down an alley to the side of the building. “Another entrance.” They watched as the side entrance opened up and a drunkard in armor so filthy that Reisen couldn’t make out is original coloring stumbled out, singing the somber song with a slurred speech. “I’ll come back home to me lover, The sea shan’t keep me from home, I’ll come back home to me daughter, To them I’ll never… be… gone….” The Protector slumped against the wall of the tavern, sliding down to the muck in a sobbing heap. “Oh, no,” Marah and Pythia murmured at the same time. Reisen sighed at the sight, closing his eyes, wishing he didn’t have to continue forward, wishing he didn’t know, wishing this wasn’t necessary. The pathetic drunken heap in the dirty back alley of a cheap tavern in a back-water town in the middle of nowhere was Onaku Greavesey, the Hero of Dawn. -Qendroj City- -Jakura Aodh- IC: Jakura Once Efandril and Bartok were gone, Jakura shot a frustrated look at Balta. “Efandril didn’t seem surprised to find me here.” “I believe she was informed of our arrival,” Balta said, sounding equally frustrated. “She was already heading over to speak with Bartok when I ran into her. The guards at the gates no doubt reported it to her.” “Oh, of course,” Jakura sighed, taking a seat at the small table before him and gesturing for Balta to take the other. “Please forgive my paranoia, Balta. It is… starting to impact my judgement. But between the knowledge of a traitor, an incumbent power play, a Knight murdered by our hands, Bartok’s failure… and Sil, of course… I’m at my wit’s end, it seems.” He chuckled uneasily, before his face straightened and he rubbed his eyes in exasperation. “Did you happen to see or hear anything before you joined Efandril?” “Only that she was extremely frustrated,” Balta said. “Nuhrii was… less than ideal.” “Understandable, if not unhelpful,” Jakura admitted. “So she spoke the truth regarding what went down with the former captain, and the envoy?” “It appears so.” “Mm… any news from General Unit in the Barren?” “None.” Jakura ran a hand down his face. “That’s not encouraging. What about Kapura and his investigation? Any word from them?” “Not yet, though I imagine we’ll hear back soon.” “Alright. Do we have any new reports in from Karamu at all.” “Nope,” Balta said, popping the ‘p’. “Okay, that's also not encouraging. Hm.” Jakura stood from the table. “Enough time wasted, I think. I have another task for you, Balta – a few, actually. First, I want you to arrange for a banquet to be held in the hall of Silodas. Once I’m done here, we’ll invite Karamu to our capital for discussions of diplomacy. It’s high time we established that we’re willing to make our peace with the Jungle Protectors for the good of this nation – and for Okoto.” “Yes, sir.” “Once you’ve done that, travel to the Barren and check in on Unit. Investigate his progress, and report back to me in Silodas once you’ve finished.” “I’ll do so,” Balta said. “If you don’t mind my asking, where will you be going?” “To find Ikir. The latest reports are placing him back around Silodas, or so I’ve heard. I might be out of the capital for awhile.” - As he made his way south, a quick stop to Vakama City had Takua Pyre informing him that Captain Kapura had returned from Karamu – with RG II slain after becoming hostile. Distraught by the news, but with little he could do about it, Jakura pushed on toward Silodas, where Takua claimed that Kapura planned to hold a funeral for the former Diplomat. In Silodas, he arrived at the tail-end of said funeral, just as Captain Kapura was finishing a speech. As the many guests began to mingle, Jakura recognized Korgot in the crowd. Exhausted by his travels and still weary over the news of RG II’s death, he found himself touched by a strange sense of reassuring familiarity at the sight of Korgot in the bustle of the funeral crowd. Nodding his head in greeting to the few individuals that offered polite bows as he passed, he approached her with a hand outstretched in greeting. “Welcome,” he said by way of greeting. “Quite a turn out for a person you said wasn’t close to many.” “Most these people are soldiers who have served with Captain Kapura,” she said. “He explained everything in his speech. How he found RG II, and how he couldn’t live with himself if he allowed those final moments to be RG’s legacy.” “Ah. Unfortunate that I missed it,” he said. “How did he find RG II?” “I’m no military expect,” she said, lips curling into a hint of a sneer. “How could I possible be expected to know?” She was clearly still a little sour over his attitude toward her during their previous meeting. “That’s not what I… oh, never mind.” He sighed, his tone softening a bit. “I apologize if I offended you the last time we spoke. It wasn’t my intention. I was… overconfident at the time. Overconfident and foolish. I paid for it, in a way. Maybe if I’d gone after RG II myself… maybe things might have ended differently.” “It’s dangerous to be overconfident,” Korgot said softly. “Anyone who becomes overconfident… they always lose. Lord Burnmad felt that way, and they say he was killed within his own walls.” Jakura pulled his cloak closer to his body, its edges flapping gently in the warm breeze. “Perhaps that is to be House Aodh’s fate. To burn the brightest with the fire of our people, only to find ourselves inevitably engulfed by the very thing which strengthened us the most. Crushed, in the end, by destiny.” “Don’t fret too much,” Korgot said, resting a hand on his arm. “I have heard that a banquet is being prepared in your honor. Invitations are being sent out across Aodhiim as we speak, or so I’ve gathered.” Jakura tried not to let his surprise at the news show. “Oh? That’s… quite the coincidence.” Who could the host be? “Coincidence?” Korgot asked. “Politics,” he said. “Aodhiim is set to host a meeting of diplomacy within the next few weeks.” “Ah.” Korgot shrugged. “I didn’t know that you planned to host any diplomatic banquets, but then, you have only just arrived. I know that the banquet wasn’t Kapura’s idea, but… he seems to have been saddled with organizing it now that it’s happening. It might be wise to speak with him. Why have two banquets when you could have one that is even more extravagant?” “You’re not wrong,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Hm. I’ll talk to the Captain. Thanks for the chat, Korgot. I hope I’ll see you at the banquet.” Shaking her hand, Jakura began making his way through the crowd toward Kapura. The Captain finished speaking with someone wearing the armor of the Pyromancers as he approached. “Hello Captain,” he said, nodding toward the departing Protector. “Who was that?” “Some no name Pyromancer,” Kapura said, shrugging. “Just giving Efandril and Takua’s regards since neither could make it to the funeral.” “It’s quite unfortunate what happened in Arcadia,” Jakura murmured. “Sounds like RG II wasn’t in his right mind.” “He was paranoid,” Kapura said, looking regretful. “Didn’t even give us time to explain why we were there. He just… attacked.” “How easily did you take him out?” Jakura asked, accepting a glass of wine from a nearby server and sipping at it. “Were there any physical signs of disease or corruption on the body?” Kapura shook his head, accepting his own glass and clinking it with Jakura’s. “Physically, he seemed fine. It was harder than you would have expected; he cut down three of my soldiers before we managed to take him down.” Jakura grimaced. “Was there anything of note on his person?” “Nothing. Nothing in his home, either.” “And he was just… wandering around Arcadia? Alone?” He found that rather hard to believe. “Not wandering, sir. Hiding.” “But from what?” Jakura muttered, more to himself than to Kapura. He shook his head in frustration. “Not that I doubt your ability, Captain, but I think you and I will be headed into Arcadia again soon. First, let’s settle this banquet business.” He gave Kapura an inquisitive look. “I’m honored by the notion, but it comes as a bit of a surprise.” Kapura grimaced. “I still don’t know whose idea it was. All I know is that one moment it was just the funeral, and the next moment it seemed like everyone thought I had announced a banquet in your honor. Not that you don’t deserve one, but… well, as you said. It was a bit of a surprise.” “Indeed. Well, at the very least, it comes as something of a convenience,” Jakura said. “I had plans to invite the Makani and her Diplomats from Karamu to a formal political banquet of my own. Would you be able to arrange for a combined event, and have invitations sent to the Jungle as soon as possible?” “I can send messengers into Karamu,” Kapura said slowly, “but I can’t promise that the invitations will make it to their destination. Keetongu was spotted near Arcadia as we were leaving.” A hint of intrigue flashed in Jakura’s mind, and undoubtedly on his face too. “Is that so? Hmm… perhaps you could send the messengers up through Qendroj City and along Karamu’s border with the South, toward Hinterhall. It may take longer, but you should be able to travel unchallenged.” Kapura thought it over for a moment before nodding. “Best to be safe. I’ll do both.” “Thank you, Captain,” Jakura said, clinking their glasses once more before finishing his off and turning away. “I’ll look forward to sharing another drink with you at the banquet.” To Be Continued in Part IV. -Part IV (and Part V, if necessary) will be up within the next few days. Can't give an exact date as I'm a bit busy finding a place to live, but there isn't too much more to be written.

luroka

do you not discord anymore

I'm in, Spot 0. E: "My Generation" by The Who

can i be paid for this

EPISODE THREE “Shadow of the Storm” (Part II) -The North- -Rilgivi Nivis- IC: Rilgivi In the North, keeping your directions could be difficult – and for Rilgivi, the thick clouds covering the sun weren’t helping. She remained mostly certain that the direction she and her few surviving soldiers were headed was east, toward the sea, until Macku gasped beside her. A second later, she too saw it. A tall mountain, stretching into the sky from the flat snowy tundra surrounding them. She knew it shouldn’t be there – couldn’t be there, not if they had gone east as intended… though, on second thought, she didn’t recognize this area at all. Perhaps we’re more lost than I originally thought, she mused. She was disappointed, but knew that the mountain could be used to their advantage. The advantage of higher ground would be useful in surveying the surrounding area, and they might be able to lose Kurahk on the climb. “To the mountain,” she decided, and toward it they all marched. Through the snow they marched, their visibility slowly obscured as the snowfall worsened. They made it to the base of the mountain unchallenged, but the climb had only just begun where they heard a deep screeching sound from behind them, one that sent a chill through their bones. “It’s here,” one of her soldiers whimpered. Ahead of them, from higher on the mountain, came an animalistic bellowing roar. Fear seized Rilgivi’s heart in its fist. We have barely survived against one creature. We cannot hope to survive against two… especially if it’s Kopaka. “Stand firm and ready your weapons!” she ordered. “Keep your backs to the mountain, move into phalanx formation!” We’ll make our stand here, pay the price for what we did. Redeem ourselves, through victory, or through death. With her eyes fixed above them, higher up the mountain, Rilgivi was the first to see the unmistakable form of Kopaka emerging from the storm. The Toa’s armor was rugged and weather-worn; he resembled a beast more than a Toa. He stared down at Rilgivi and her small group, the rage and madness of the beast – and something else, almost forlorn – dancing in his eyes. She tightened her grip on her weapon, but the Toa’s gaze shifted further down the mountain, to where Kurahk was now visible, and his eyes narrowed. Before anyone could react, the Toa of Ice charged and leaped over Rilgivi’s group, diving at Kurahk. He slammed into the Rahkshi with all his strength, and the two tumbled out of view, wrestling with each other as they disappeared into the storm. “The sky,” one soldier said, sounding confused and pointing up. “At the peak!” Pushing Kopaka and Kurahk from her mind, Rilgivi turned her attention to the peak of the mountain – where, in the middle of the swirling storm, she could see a vibrant blue sky. “Commander,” Macku said, “perhaps we should continue the climb?” “Yes, we continue the climb.” They began their ascent, and in what felt like no time at all, managed to scale halfway to the peak. The air felt strange, like it was crackling with power, almost alive; disturbed by the sensation, Rilgivi glanced away from the mountain, gasping in surprise. She could see far into the distance, looking far above the clouds. “This is so strange,” Macku said, just as bewildered as she was. “How did we get up here so fast?! I think I can see the border with Kamuk!” “There’s a cave not too far away,” one of the other soldiers said, pointing ahead of them. “We go there,” Rilgivi decided. “Something is definitely off… hopefully it’ll be safer there than walking the side of the mountain.” - The cave was lit with intricately crafted torches, embedded with glowing crystals instead of carrying a flame. The cavern itself seemed to take on a more artificial shape the deeper they went, becoming smoother and more geometrical, until finally they came to the foot of a staircase leading up, carved into the rock. Listening closely, Rilgivi could hear a faint chatter coming from above. Sharing a glance with Macku, Rilgivi silently signalled for everyone to ready their weapons, before she and Macku led the way up the stairs. As they climbed higher, closer to the sound, Rilgivi could soon make out voices – and then distinct words, which sounded as though spoken by an alien tongue. “-not our responsibility. We should have turned it away when it arrived!” A high pitched and strangely harmonious voice said. Another voice spoke, deeper and heavier, rumbling like thunder. “We couldn’t let it bleed out. It is a creature of the elements… surely you have empathy for our kin?” Creature of the elements? Rilgivi thought to herself, intrigued. “It is entirely unprecedented! Thousands of winters we have tended to this temple, and not once has a corporeal construct been allowed inside – elementally aligned or not!” the first voice was clearly peeved. The second sighed. “Times are changing. You heard what the messenger said – the twilight brood is making their move. They’ll soon be here, and then neither side will be safe. We may be separate, but we are still reliant upon each other. This creature has its part to play in the war to come, just as we will.” A third voice now chimed in, this one sounding like a voice making itself heard through a heavy wind, and strangely emotionless. “We will allow it to recuperate to a stable condition, but after, it must go. There are preparations to be made, and this gash has been open for long enough as-is. We already have to powerful Corporeals fighting down at the base of the mountain – who knows what else may stumble upon us?” Rilgivi suddenly felt a gust of wind pass her by, rushing up the stairs. Up ahead, she could hear what sounded like loud winds blowing, but it was strangely melodic, almost as if the work of something sentient – and then the sounds stopped. The third voice spoke again, unchanged in its detachment. “It seems that we have some guests.” Rilgivi felt a chill on her back, and after another silent exchange with Macku, she emerged from the stairwell with the others right behind her. The sight before her was truly breath-taking; a marvellous room, intricately hewn out of the mountain’s stone. In the center sat a stone table, upon which a white bear-like creature – the Elemental Creature of Ice, Melum, she realized – lay. At the far end of the room was a large throne, built from aqua hued gemstones and the mountain’s rock. The rest was… harder for her to comprehend. There appeared to be three beings in the room – two standing at the table, and one standing before the throne, that much she could tell. But one seemed to be composed of storm clouds, with bursts of lightning crackling in its form. She had the sense that it was looking at her, but its face – if that was what it was – was just a swirling teal vortex of clouds. The second being was odder. It resembled a humanoid form, but was a cloud of what she could only assume were snowflakes, dancing in harmony throughout the being’s form. A solid mask of ice hovered where its face ought to be, the mask’s shape jagged and crystalline. The final being, standing before the throne, was stranger still. She could barely even see it, winds flowing into and through and out of it in an erratic and oddly rhythmic fashion. The only thing that really made it visible at all was the dust carried within it. “So,” the final being said, the owner of the emotionless third voice. “Destiny sees fit to bring you to our temple. What are your names?” “I am Rilgivi of House Nivis, Land Commander of Agua Hielo,” Rilgivi said, stepping forward and gesturing to Macku and the others. “My primary companion, Captain Macku of House Greavesey. The others are soldiers under our command. We recently fought a creature of anger with over a thousand men, but it turned our rage against us, and caused us to slaughter each other. We fled to this mountain, where Toa Kopaka attacked the creature whilst we made the climb, and here we are.” After taking a moment to catch her breath, she bowed. If these are gods – and they must be, for I can barely comprehend them…. Respect is good. “Interesting,” the storm cloud said, revealing itself as the second voice. “You describe the dark creature, no? The one fighting this creature’s taller counterpart?” Her attention drawn to Melum, she saw that it was bleeding from a nasty gash in its side. “Yes. It’s name is Kurahk, the dark creature. It fights Toa Kopaka. What happened?” “I found it outside, clinging to life. This Malum creature is in very bad shape,” the storm cloud said. “It needs rest.” “Melum,” the snowflakes corrected. “Yes, Malum, that is what I said,” the storm cloud said, sounding exasperated. “You need not correct me every time I speak, Hielgal.” “We cannot allow you to stay long,” the winds said. “Should the Corporeals outside reach our temple, the results could be catastrophic.” It moved to her now, as if floating on the wind. “Rilgivi of House Nivis, you and your companions brought this… ‘Kurahk’ to our doorstep. You must ensure neither it nor Kopaka bring harm to this place.” A few flashes of lightning went off in the storm cloud’s form. “What if we cut off the Spirit Gash now?” The snowflakes within Hielgal seemed to gain speed, becoming more erratic. “These Corporeals would cross over onto the Spirit Side entirely! That’s madness!” It retorted, sounding angrier than earlier. “Better that they stay, before the other two get in!” the storm cloud thundered back. “Stur! Hielgal! Control yourselves!” the wind boomed, its voice like a fog horn in a storm. Rilgivi couldn’t really tell, but she felt as though its attention now turned back to her. “It seems you have a choice. You can do your part to prevent those outside from entering… or you may remain as we close the gash. But doing so you will be stuck on our side until the next gash opens… and none of us can be certain when that might happen.” Just looking at them is giving me a headache. What’s a Spirit Gash? “The Kurahk alone indirectly slaughtered over a thousand of us,” she said. “Now Kopaka is there as well. If we go back, we will be no match – they’ll kill us in seconds. I am no coward, but between certain death and survival, I choose to survive. We will remain here.” “And your companions?” the wind asked. “We’re with her,” Macku said, and the others all nodded. “We’re staying by her side.” “So be it,” the wind responded. She could vaguely tell as it moved back to the throne and sat, the other two beings moving to stand on either side. The gems in the throne began to glow brightly, and soon, the entire room was bathed in a bright aquamarine glow. When it subsided, Rilgivi found herself and her companions in the same room – and watched as it rapidly shifted, the walls separating from the intricate patterns carved in them. The patterns remained as windows to the outside, where she could see massive chunks of stone flying around, rearranging themselves. Then the patterns themselves took leave of the chamber, and pillars of rock arranged themselves around the now open room, the roof ascended and changing. The patterns connected with it, merging to form an ornate domed roof. “Macku,” she said, eyeing the still ongoing transformation with wide eyes, “I’ve a feeling we’re not in Okoto anymore.” -Kamuk, New Makuta City Outskirts- -Quin Galum- IC: Quin, Vinheim At the end of a canyon outside New Makuta City, Quin and Pouks found their target – Ketar, the Elemental Creature of Stone. The small scorpion-like creature had scuttled onto a large boulder at their approach, but seemed otherwise content to watch them. Unfortunately, they soon found that they weren’t alone. “Boss…” Pouks said, trailing off as he glanced behind them. He turned to the sight of Vinheim, flanked by at least a hundred soldiers – and a quick glance up revealed nearly as many archers, all ready to fire. “You could have fled Kamuk,” Vinheim said, when it became clear that both Quin and Pouks would remain silent. “You could have sought safety with the Knights… and yet here I find you, trying to steal from Kamuk again. Look at you – you’ve cornered the Creature of Stone, as if it were some ordinary beast!” He shook his head, affecting a disappointed expression. “Then again… the way you looked at Pohatu… why am I even surprised?” “Fleeing Kamuk was never my intention, not while you sit on the throne. As for Ketar…” Quin glanced back at it. “Letting it fall into your hands would be one of the worst things I could do.” “Do you even know why I seek the Creature of Stone?” Vinheim asked, seeming strangely calm. “I seek it to save Toa Pohatu, so that we might have a chance of surviving the war to come.” He turned his attention to Pouks. “You, Petros by. Why are you fighting? What do you fight for?” Quin protectively blocked Pouks with his arm, frowning. He wants the Creature of Stone for the same reasons I do, he thought. “Do you know where Pohatu is?” he asked. “Let the boy speak,” Vinheim said. “You’ve forced him to become a murderer, forced him against his nation, and against his people. Let him speak, unless you are afraid of what he might say, or what he might feel.” The King gestured up toward the archers. “I’m being incredibly merciful, Quin. Just as I was to ShadowVezon – who now serves the Knights of Ekimu. If I tell them to fire, you will not survive. Speak truly.” “I didn’t force him to do anything, he saved my life!” Quin spat, his anger temporarily taking control. “I wasn’t intending to kill anyone, but since you sent psychopaths and zealots down to the tunnels, I was forced to kill my own soldiers!” He sighed, closing his eyes and forcing his anger down. There was only one way this situation could pan out, and they both knew it. There was no use in another long-winded argument. Vinheim took a breath of his own, as Pouks fell back, crouching next to the Creature of Stone. “I don’t really know what to fight for,” the rookie admitted. “I don’t like your politics, any of you. I don’t like how Kamuk is run right now, but I don’t know how to do it better. All I can do is fight for what is right. All I can do is endure, no matter the odds.” “Nobody likes politics boy, but they are a necessary evil.” Quin glanced back at Pouks, and then back to Vinheim. “How can I trust that you won’t kill him as soon as I surrender?” Pouks patted the Creature of Stone. Ketar allowed it for a few seconds before scuttling over to Quin, seeming inquisitive. He tried to ignore the creature in favor of staring Vinheim down, but it stretched out first one leg and then another, resting them against his leg. It seemed to be wondering if it could climb him – or if he would be worth doing so. “I could have killed you both already. Instead I give you a choice.” “I’m old… but he is young. I don’t want to waste his life for my own failed cause.” “Then you have my word as King, that I shall allow Pouks to flee Kamuk unhindered.” Patting Ketar’s head – and shaking his own at the Creature – Quin carefully undid his sword straps, before throwing the weapon to the ground. Ketar titled its head before seeming to shrug, and hopped down. Pouks stepped forward to stand beside him as the Creature of Stone scuttled over to Vinheim, observing the King. Quin sighed, stepping toward the shackles offered to him. Vinheim dipped his head. “Do not give up hope entirely. You have willingly surrendered, and another war looms on the horizon. We might make use of you, yet.” As the soldier shackled Quin’s hands behind his back, Vinheim turned his attention to Ketar, kneeling before the Creature of Stone. It stared into his eyes, seeming almost hesitant. Quin watched as Vinheim frowned, before placing his right hand upon Ketar’s head. “Time is running out,” the King said. “Provide me with your power, and I will do what is best.” The world seemed to slow as Quin watched the Creature crawl onto Vinheim’s back, and then attach itself to the King. Vinheim screamed. The sound echoed throughout the canyon as he collapsed, twitching madly, clawing at the dirt, shrieking at the top of his lungs. Blood dripped out of the Protector’s ears, and he foamed at the mouth as he began to grow in size, his arms and legs snapping and cracking as they stretched. His eyes rolled back in his head and he gave one last violent shudder before falling still, and it was only by the rapid rise and fall of his chest that Quin knew that Vinheim still lived. “Get the prisoners back to the city,” one of the soldiers said, sounding shaken. “Help me with the King.” -The Barren- -Virndrung Vatten- IC: Virndrung, Toru, Gikayok, Unit, Luroka, Quad Roka “Forget it,” Father Urot said, standing next to Virndrung. “I’m not even shocked anymore.” Virndrung kept his own features calm, though he was fighting panic inside. The Brotherhood had marched straight into an armed force led by General Unit Ember and Captain Narmoto Aodh… one that had been joined by Luroka Qendroj and Toa Onua. This is going to get out of hand very, very quickly. The Toa of Earth stepped forward, shoving a Stone Protector standing next to him back. The fury on the Toa’s face was obvious. “TORU SEVOI!” Onua’s voice boomed into the air, heard by everyone – and it was directed at Father Urot, standing less than a foot away from Virndrung. “I would recognize you anywhere, you treacherous worm!” “Ah, Onua,” Urot drawled, mocking the Toa. “How awful it is to see you again. And me? Treacherous? Have you looked in the mirror lately?” No. Urot… Toru… Virnrdrung thought, turning to the leader of the Brotherhood, his mind racing. I should have seen it. I have been a fool. “Father,” he said. “Perhaps I can mediate, before this escalates?” “You can certainly try,” the Fire – Earth? – Protector said, not sounding very bothered about the rapidly rising tensions. “They’re all idiots, but you can try.” “You betray your own kind and this very island,” Onua said before Virndrung could speak again, taking a deep breath. “You have allowed your rage and lust for vengeance to consume you… but it will cease here, today.” Toru’s voice took on a whiny, child-like tone. “’You betray you own kind and this very island’! That’s you. That’s what you sound like.” “Urot… Toru, whatever you prefer to be called, don’t escalate this. Don’t start a fight you can’t win,” Virndrung said, still trying to process the revelation. He’d been working with Toru. The Toru, Toru Sevoi, this whole time. Masquerading among the ranks of his followers, associating with him… the worst of the worst. The Protector who had brought Kulta to the surface of Okoto, turned the island against itself, brought down his father’s rule before it could truly begin. “The Knights allow my region to burn, Terrorsaur Rayne poisons Stone, Burnmad Aodh burns down the Jungle twice,” Toru listed, oblivious to Virndrung’s own slowly heating anger. “But I try and turn us all into blessed undying, and then ‘oh no’, it’s wrong!” “Protectors have made mistakes,” Onua said. “It is in their nature. But you side even still with an abomination, and seek the destruction of everything. You must be stopped.” “Oh really? I suppose your friend there-” Toru pointed at Unit – “conveniently left out the fact that he also worked for that abomination!” The attempt at sowing discord didn’t faze Onua. “He has left those ways behind, and assisted in rebuilding his nation since Kulta’s fall. You have only sunk deeper.” Virndrung slowly fell back past Gikayok, finding the Prophet. If things were about to go south as much as he thought they were, then there wouldn’t be a better way to convince Onua to let him live than turning on the Brotherhood. I planned to do this eventually, he thought, as the Prophet eyed him warily. So it might be earlier than the boss would have liked… he’ll understand. Politics is all about adjusting on the fly. “You could have joined us,” Onua was saying. “There was nothing in the Barren to build a civilization with. We started anew.” “I’m sure the survivors of House Sevoi and House Zemlja would agree,” Toru said. “Of course, they couldn’t help you, seeing as you slaughtered them.” Onua did not respond, but Toru’s words clearly infuriated the other four Earth Protectors with him, and they each drew their weapons. Virndrung’s hand flew to the knife at his hip and his muscles tensed, ready to spring into action. “Calm down Onua,” said Luroka. The Commander of Qendroj City slowly stepped forward, holding an ornate staff of ancient make in his hand, which seemed to almost shimmer in the air. “It is unbecoming to lose your composure like this.” It can’t be, Virndrung wondered, eyes narrowing as he stared at the Staff. Is it…? “While it displeases me to see you again,” Luroka continued, turning now to Toru, “I have no business with you or your associates, and we have other priorities at hand. For the time being, I think it would be best for us to go our separate ways.” Virndrung winced. Wrong move. The four Earth Protectors with Luroka pushed past him, eyes blazing. “He killed us all by serving Kulta,” one of them said. “I’m gonna gut him!” “Get behind me now!” Luroka snapped. “We do not have the time for this nonsense!” Onua stepped forward, glaring at the Brotherhood. “We do now.” Oh, fu- The Toa smashed his fist into the ground, and the earth trembled beneath their feet. Virndrung stumbled into Gikayok as the shaking increased – before the ground began to split apart right beneath them. Cursing, he dove to the side, crashing to the dirt at the edge of the rapidly growing fissure right next to the Prophet. “That was close,” the Prophet said, eyes wide. Scowling, Virndrung lunged at them, planting his hands on their chest and pushing with all his might, sending the Prophet tumbling into the abyss. All around him, other unfortunate Protectors suffered the same fate, screaming as they fell. One down. He slowly stood, spotting Toru standing only a little way away. Two to go. “Careful now,” Toru called, taking off the Mask of Fire and holding it over the abyss. “People who die have the unfortunate tendency to drop whatever they’re holding.” “Onua, stop this madness!” the Stone Protector from earlier yelled. “It is not madness, Quad Roka,” Onua said, his eyes fixed on Toru. “Only resolve.” Quad Roka… wait, the Knight. The spy in the Reach. Virndrung frowned. But… why is he all the way down here? “The Knight is correct,” he called, shoving his confusion aside. “Vorahk roams the Barren! It will be drawn to the sound of a battle. You two are going to get all of us killed!” “There will be no battle,” Onua promised. “Drop the mask, Toru Sevoi, and it will be a slaughter.” All around Virndrung, the remaining members of the Brotherhood were pulling out their weapons – and behind Onua, Captain Narmoto nodded once. A sizeable chunk of the Aodhiim forces stepped forward, preparing to meet the Brotherhood head-on. “Onua! STAND DOWN!” Luroka roared. “You threaten a death cult with death?” Toru taunted. “Try again, Toa.” “What are you even accomplishing here?!” Virndrung snapped, scowling at Toru, allowing his irritation to be free. “If you won’t defuse the situation, I will! Give me the mask before your bickering kills us all!” “The son of Pulse Vatten is telling me what to do?!” Toru laughed manically, shaking his head. “It must be a day that ends in ‘y’. Very well then – impress me!” Virndrung caught the Mask of Fire as Toru tossed it to him. “You continue to impress me with how foolish you can be.” He turned to General Unit, throwing the mask over to him before turning back to Toru. “You know, maybe-” He was interrupted by the ground trembling underneath them again, throwing everyone off balance. More of the Brotherhood tumbled to their deaths; he saw Unit fall to one knee, while Luroka, using the Staff, stayed on both feet. Before him, Toru cried out in alarm as he lurched backwards, tumbling into the pit – only to grab onto the ledge at the last second, handing onto it for dear life. “Someone help me!” he cried. “If you value any success, you’ll save me!” Virndrung whipped out his knife and stalked forward, intending to end Toru then and there, only to tumble to the dirt as the ground trembled again. He caught himself on his hands and knees, and started to push himself back up – only to scream in pain and rage as his left hand was tabbed through by the blade of a sword. He glanced up to find Gikayok holding onto its hilt, using it to keep his balance as he inched toward Toru…. Not… today! His left hand was already ruined, he’d never use it again. Knowing this, Virndrung reached up and grabbed the hilt of the sword with his right hand and wrenched it to the side, pulling Gikayok off balance. The Jungle Protector let go of the sword and stumbled toward the edge of the fissure, made one last, fumbling attempt to grab Toru – and then fell, vanishing into the depths. -Kamuk, Fort Patrus- -Anuhea Petros- IC: Anuhea Feeling the immense power of the Torch of Ma rushing through his veins, Anuhea raced through the streets of Fort Patrus, hoping to reach his personal quarters as quickly as possible. Nilkuu was right beside him the entire way, managing to match his pace. “Where do you plan to hide it, my lord?” “I don’t know…” he said. “There aren’t many good places to hide anything, let alone this. I thought perhaps my dwelling would be safest… though now that I think about it, the hidden chambers in Velika’s hut might offer better protection.” “I doubt he’d refuse,” Nilkuu pointed out. “And that basement probably isn’t the only hidden chamber in his home.” His mind set, Anuhea changed course, hurrying to the Mask Maker’s hut. They arrived without issue, albeit somewhat out of breath; trying to seem as natural as possible, he entered the home, Nilkuu right behind. Wasting no time, he descended into the basement once more. “There,” Nilkuu said, pointing to what appeared to be a trapdoor in the center of the room. He pulled it open to reveal a small empty compartment – one just large enough to hold the Torch. Anuhea dropped it in and shut the trapdoor, sighing with relief as the heat of its energies washed away. “So….” Nilkuu trailed off, uncertain. “Now what?” “It’s safe now, so we should return to the campaign,” Anuhea said, turning his attention to the rest of the room. “However… I’d like to look around here a little bit. Velika was always an odd type, and now that we know more about him… perhaps he’s held something useful all these years.” “Is there anything in particular I should search for?” “Anything that catches your attention, I suppose.” Nilkuu walked over to the Wall of History, but Anuhea found his attention drawn by an old, worn out leather book sitting on one of the workshop tables nearby. It had a green cover with a strange design. Intrigued, he made his way over, shoving a few bits and pieces of miscellaneous projects out of the way before opening it to a random page. It flipped open to an entry from three months before: Long range communication remains impossible on Okoto. I suspect Vinheim Maran has managed to maintain Kamuk’s communication capabilities, but I cannot prove this, nor do I have any hypotheses for how he has managed this. Sahmad has grown more active in recent weeks. Whatever his plan is… he will enact it soon. Whatever Voltex’s suspicions of him were, however, I believe he may have been mistaken. Sahmad is by no means a good person; but he does seem to be working, in this instance, toward the greater good. What horrors might push someone like Sahmad to do so… I am scared to know. On Voltex, there is nothing new. He and Ekimu remain out of contact. All I can do is pray that this does not mean they have failed in their task…. I sense something on the horizon. Okoto is on the cusp of calamity, I can feel it. I shall have to research more thoroughly, and look back through my notes…. The entry ended there. “Sahmad… another Mask Maker, I presume…” he mused, flipping back to earlier in Velika’s journal, hoping for more information. Nilkuu joined him as he flipped back to an entry dated from the year 326 AE – twenty-one years ago, around a year before the infamous Battle for the Dawn. My cover within the Earth Region has finally been blown. I suspect Kulta has known I was a Mask Maker from the start, but my efforts to avoid direct contact prevented her from uncovering my history and my future until now. I wish I could stay. Without my presence, much of Earth will likely succumb entirely to her manipulations, and I will be unable to prevent the Skull Warriors in the Ancient City from negatively influencing Pulse Vatten. Voltex, Vatten and Umarak have already been hard at work, stealing Masks of Power from all over the island. When they learn of this, the Protectors will undoubtedly be furious… but Voltex said – and I agree – that it is a necessary evil. I have found Kulta’s Skull Warriors skulking all over the island in my travels, hunting down even the faintest whispers of masks. If we do not take them… she will. I wish I could reveal myself to the island, but the situation is not yet dire enough to require such drastic action. I must establish a new identity for myself, and begin gaining influence. If it comes to a second Long Nihgt… perhaps I can repeat the success of Vakama City…. The entry ended there. “This must have been when he first re-took on the name of Velika,” Anuhea thought aloud. “Vinheim was the one who originally spread the word that Dallior was a traitor, correct?” “I think so,” Nilkuu said, confirming his thoughts. “Kulta spread it first, but Vinheim later came forward with ‘evidence’ of it.” “Perhaps we could prove that rumor false with this,” Anuhea suggested. “We know now that Velika has repeatedly worked in favor of Okoto’s well-being. The claim that he was a traitor is absurd. It might be twenty years too late to really matter, but it should call into question Vinheim’s evidence, and by extension, Vinheim himself.” “I don’t think it would work,” Nilkuu said slowly, seeming to come to some sort of realization. “I think that Velika decided to help you gain influence, rather than do it himself. But that means most won’t know who he is. Vinheim could easily claim that you lie.” “That’s true… still, there must be something that we could use,” Anuhea said, tapping the journal idly. “Vinheim, as smarmy as he is, is far better a negotiator than I, and he has the advantage of being far more prevalent politically. The only way for me to gain a greater advantage, as I see it, would be to provide definitive proof of him actively misleading the people of Kamuk. That… or evidence of him working against the nation’s well-being. Even then, those aren’t guarantees.” “What do the latest entries say?” Nilkuu asked. “I think our best chance would be to prove that King ShadowVezon and General Quin were falsely imprisoned, and work from there. Perhaps Velika knows if the charges were true?” “Let’s see,” Anuhea said, flipping to the final entry, which appeared to be from just a few days before. I have, to the best of my abilities, uncovered Sahmad’s plots across the island. I know that he has agents placed in Okoto’s highest ranks working for him – or with him – all over the island. In Kamuk, I have discovered that Ahkmou Umrik works with him, albeit very reluctantly. Ahkmou himself seems to be more loyal to Vinheim… and to a far darker master. In the Knights, Sahmad has stationed Metus Crustallus, and I have reason to suspect that Gavla Lurrun, in the South, works with him as well. Of Aodhiim and Karamu, I know that he has allies, though I have yet to determine their identities. Sahmad has caused a plague to spread like wildfire through the North. It seems designed to keep them busy and occupied… and in their homes. Distracted. But from what? Nato Greavesey would undoubtedly try to stop Sahmad from raising the one imprisoned beneath the Barren, but Sahmad in turn could easily stop him…. The strange, hostile weather patterns in the North continue. They are of a magical origin, stronger and older than I. I suspect whatever lies at their heart might be the true reason for Sahmad to spread the plague… what might he go to such desperate lengths to prevent the Protectors from seeing? Kamuk, as always, remains complicated. I have finally deduced that some of Vinheim’s accusations toward ShadowVezon Raqmu were true; ShadowVezon did indeed kill Zatth Raqmu to take over the region himself. But these nebulous ‘war crimes’ from the Battle for the Dawn and the War of Five Kings… I can find no evidence of them. Quin Galum, at least, seems to have been imprisoned simply because he could have threatened Vinheim’s rule. ShadowVezon, perhaps, deserved his own imprisonment – if only for kinslaying…. Of Voltex, there is still no word. I suspect that the Knights will soon arrive in Fort Patrus, seeking the Mask of Time. I will depart with them, and hopefully, find the answer to stopping the Great War…. The final entry ended there. “That’s a start,” Anuhea muttered to himself. “So the only allegations he believes are true are those of murdering Zatth.” He flipped through the journal, skimming it for any other mentions of ShadowVezon; he found some through the years, but nothing significant. “Nothing else on the King?” Nilkuu asked. “What about the General?” He found a few more notes on Quin here and there in the journal. It seemed that Velika had, at one point, considered trying to turn Quin to the Knights to serve Okoto – but the Mask Maker had determined that the General was ultimately out for himself and for Kamuk. Velika had felt that trying to turn the General to another cause would be too much trouble to be worth it. Closing the journal, Anuhea sighed. “I guess that’s all the information we’ll get from this. It’ll at least give us a general direction that we can focus, but there isn’t much that we can actually use against Vinheim, not for the time being.” Taking some time to think, he finally said, “I think the easiest to disprove would be these ‘war crimes’. There hasn’t been any clarification into what they were, which I find to be suspicious. If they are clarified, one would expect there to be physical evidence to back them up. As far as I know, Vinheim hasn’t bothered to explain them.” “Agreed,” Nilkuu said. “Do we risk a trip to Daggerfall, or do we wait here and send messengers out.” “…send messengers,” Anuhea said. “I’d rather not be falsely accused and imprisoned myself.” Nilkuu nodded. “I’ll have it done right away, my lord.” Their business completed, they left Velika’s home. Nilkuu rushed off to fulfil his orders, while Anuhea strolled through the streets in the direction of his own home, observing the city. Fort Patrus appeared fine for now, as usual. It typically ran itself without needing his direct influence. The Torch of Ma… he thought as he walked, if I remember correctly, it will protect whoever bears it, but only once. It’s certainly a valuable asset to have… if Vinheim decides to send his soldiers after me for inquiring about ShadowVezon, however, I may have to use it. I should thank Quin for delivering it to me if the chance arises. “Good day to you, my lord,” said a patrolling guardsman. Anuhea nodded to them distractedly, still lost in his thoughts. Velika being a Mask Maker… I mean, I did know that he wasn’t a true member of House Petros, but to think that he has played such roles throughout history… his reign as Okoto’s King was the most peaceful in the island’s history, and it was his rule that saw Fire survive the Long Night so effectively. And to think that he was Archean... I can’t help but wonder why he decided to support me, rather than go for the throne himself. He certainly could have done so if he wanted to. Arriving at his home, he stepped inside, making his way to the kitchen, where he began to poured himself a small cup of wine. Maybe he was just tired… still, his notes were useful. I now know that Ahkmou serves Sahmad as well as Vinheim… whoever Sahmad might be. If I manage to claim my place on the throne, I should look into him. He sat down by the window, looking out onto the street, sipping his wine. For now, however, I must wait. To Be Continued in Part III. -With any luck, Part III will be finished by the weekend. I'm probably going to need to split this episode into an additional Part IV (and maybe even Part V), although the final chunk of the episode has already been written, so it will hopefully not take too long. Episode 04 is definitely not going to be this big, this is too much.

EPISODE THREE “Shadow of the Storm” (Part I) -The North- -Nato Greavesey- IC: Nato, Krosht, ShadowVezon- Nato frowned as they approached the border of Rollor’s Reach, sharing a worried look with Kazi beside him. “That’s ShadowVezon,” Hahli murmured from behind them. “He’s supposed to be imprisoned in Kamuk, isn’t he?” Krosht pushed his way to the front of their party, calling up to the Knights on the wall: “What’s going on? Does Quad Roka no longer command you? Who does?” “More importantly,” Nato said, glaring up at ShadowVezon, “what are you doing here?” “How very welcoming of you, Nato,” ShadowVezon drawled. “To answer your question, I have been given command here.” Next to Nato, Krosht narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “By who?” “A Mask Maker,” the former Stone King said. “The same one who negotiated my release from prison.” “A Mask Maker? Typical. They enjoy messing with things,” Krosht grumbled. “I hope for your sake that it is not the same one that gave us Stonescale.” “Would this Mask Maker happen to be named Sahmad?” Nato growled, watching the faces of ShadowVezon and the Stone Protector next to him. The Stone Protector shook his head, but Nato saw through the action with ease – as did Krosht. “Answer Lord Nato truthfully, or I will kill you both,” Krosht said. “Knights of Ekimu,” Nato called, turning his attention to the other Knights stationed along the wall, “I have no words to express how truly disappointed I am in all of you. After all the troubles that your predecessors caused for Okoto, once the Battle for the Dawn was over I wished to see you disbanded. Instead, I gave you a second chance. I allowed you to occupy my familial lands, gave you the freedom to operate without supervision or oversight… and this is how I am repaid? You subject yourselves to the rule of a war criminal – one who collaborated openly with Kulta – who has been placed in this position by a Mask Maker he dares not name?” ShadowVezon chuckled, seemingly amused. “As usual, you act as if the entire world must revolve around your every whim. The Knights are not your servants, and are entitled to make their own decisions. You should be grateful Dekar or myself are willing to speak at all, after such a greeting.” “You live on the North’s land,” Krosht growled. “You use our resources! Yet you act like the Knights have free reign?! Rollor’s Reach exists because of Lord Nato!” “And?” ShadowVezon prompted. “What makes me worse than any other leader?” “You were put in place by an enemy of the state!” “Rollor’s Reach has been independent of the North since the War of Five Kings,” the Stone Protector next to ShadowVezon – who must be Dekar – noted. “Dekar speaks truly,” another Knight (this one a Protector of Ice) said. “You do not command us.” “You still live on land given to you by Lord Nato,” said Krosht. “Do as you see fit with it – but afford the Khan some respect.” “You know nothing,” the Knight replied. “Tell the commander your purpose here, or be gone. Your politics are meaningless to us.” Krosht turned to Nato. “My lord?” “This isn’t about politics,” Nato said. “This is about the fact that you’ve submitted yourselves to the rule of a man who was once your enemy. One who was brought here, I suspect, by the roge Mask Maker who poisoned the North and intends to subject Okoto to the despotic rule of an ancient Titan. If you must know, I came here to ask if you’d made any progress in learning about the Stone Plague or the man who caused it… but I already have my answer.” “There were no mentions of Sahmad or Stonescale in the histories,” the Knight replied. “Stonescale is new – Sahmad, however, was struck from the histories by Voltex. They knew each other before the Mask Makers ever came to Okoto.” “Why was he removed from history?” asked Krosht. “I can think of plenty of reasons,” Nato muttered. The Knight shrugged. “If you will take Sahmad’s word for it, there was a calamity that destroyed their homeland. Rather than flee with the Council of Twelve, Sahmad instead led a band of other Mask Makers to join under the banner of a Dark Titan named Mutran, to serve him instead.” “And you’ll take the word of a Mask Maker who openly admits to serving someone with the word ‘Dark’ in their title?” Nato asked, dumbfounded. “In all of Okoto’s history, when has anything related to darkness ever been good news?” “The Great War is almost upon us,” said the Knight. “Sahmad seeks to stop it.” “And I seek to stop Sahmad,” Nato declared. “He invaded my home, and poisoned my people. Attacking civilians without provocation or justification… those are not the actions of a man trying to stop a war.” Dekar stepped forward, nudging the Knight back. “If you’ll permit me to, perhaps I can show you why Sahmad might have done what he did,” he said. “Commander ShadowVezon as well. I can’t promise it will convince you, or that you’ll agree with his reasons. But you might, at least, find an explanation.” “Please,” Nato said, opening his arms. “Enlighten me.” “It will require a journey into the North,” Dekar said. “You and your companions, plus myself and the Commander, if he agrees.” “We are infected with Stonescale,” said Nato. “Travelling with us would infect you as well.” “That will be no issue,” Dekar said. “We’ll have weeks before it takes our minds – and by then, the cure will be available.” “You have an awful amount of faith in that,” Krosht said, scoffing. “Sahmad himself will give out the cure if the other Mask Maker isn’t found,” Dekar said. “To everyone?” Krosht asked. “Or just the Knights?” “Everyone.” “I doubt that very much, from someone who serves a ‘Dark Titan’,” Krosht grumbled. Dekar shrugged. “Believe me or not; you already have the plague, and I am offering to show you why.” Nato felt more than saw Krosht glancing at him again, as the other Protector asked, “my lord? It’s your decision.” Frowning, Nato sighed. “Fine. I’ll play – let’s see your ‘explanation’.” “Dekar turned to ShadowVezon. “Commander?” “I’ll come as well,” ShadowVezon said. “I’d appreciate the chance to learn more about our current state of affairs.” Within moments, the two Stone Protectors had joined Nato’s group. Dekar turned to Nato. “The strange weather patterns in the North. The storms; do you know where the last one was located?” “Somewhere between here and Grave’s Peak.” Dekar nodded, swallowing, seeming nervous. “Alright. Off we go, then.” -The South: Southern Coast- -Reisen Tyde- IC: Reisen Reisen sat at the end of a table in a large room. He was still on board the ship of the marauders, now tied to a chair. All around him, either sitting at his table or another or simply standing around, the marauders were celebrating. Further back in the room, sitting at the center of the head table of the celebratory feast, was the being he had exchanged words with earlier. They were a large, brutish specimen with four arms, wearing ornate black armor with silver engravings and a black helmet of similar make. Two characteristic horns sprouted from the helmet’s chin and curved along its jawline; underneath the mask were four red-orange eyes. Sitting with the leader were several other beings, each wearing armor of a similarly superfluous design. Sitting closest to Reisen was a rather skinny being, who also wore black armor – though this one exhibited a black coloration underneath his armor too. Their dark red eyes looked upon the food with little interest, though theirs looked far more palatable than Reisen’s bowl of stew. Reisen took a long, hard look at his stew before offering the being similar scrutiny. “I don’t suppose that I’ve been captured to become the new chef?” “I wouldn’t put it past our ‘great and glorious leader’,” the being said, poking at the food on their plate. Reisen scoffed. “I doubt they’d let me, bad as the need may be. They’d expect that I would poison their food… and they’d be correct.” “I can’t blame you,” the being said, letting their fork drop with a clatter and sighing. The celebrating among the other marauders had turned to full on cheering, and their leader now stood, with a surprisingly genuine grin on his face. “Speech! Speech! Speech!” “When we first found this island, I wasn’t sure what we’d find here,” the leader began. “From far away, it doesn’t promise much – but today we saw different! Today, we saw what these Okotoans truly possess! If they have ships of this calibre, then what more could they have to offer? Today, we celebrate not only our victory over these puny islanders, but the confirmation of the wealth this island possesses! Today is only the beginning – and it’s all thanks to our navigator, right here!” The leader pointed directly at the being that Reisen had been conversing with. “Well Shady, don’t be shy, get up here!” ‘Shady’ spared Reisen a brief apologetic glance before he turned and made his way to the head table. Once there he began his speech, clearly reluctant. “Thank you, gracious Lord Darkness. My fellow Dark Hunters… I can only say that right now, everyone gets what they deserve. Today is the day that the Dark Hunters reveal their true colors! For the Hunt!” “For the Hunt!” the rest called. Lord Darkness smiled, patting ‘Shady’ on the shoulder before gesturing for him to stand in the back. He took a drink from one of the servants – which Reisen noticed was a Protector of Water in a trance-like state, wearing tattered black clothing. “Drink heartily, men!” Lord Darkness called, before drinking from his goblet and taking his seat once more. For the briefest of instances, Reisen noticed ‘Shady’ glaring at Lord Darkness, before he turned his gaze across the rest of the room. There was now a palpable tension in the air, and Reisen had a nasty feeling that ‘Shady’ was at the heart of it. Suddenly, one of the marauders coughed and fell over, his fellow marauders cheering as he hit the floor. But then another fell – and another. Lord Darkness first watched with amusement, but as more of his men began to collapse, an expression of concern spread on his features. He stood, only to catch himself on the table as his legs threatened to give out. “W-what… what the….” The leader trailed off, coughing up blood – and then there was a dagger up against his throat, held by none other than ‘Shady’. “I’m afraid this is the end of the line for you,” ‘Shady’ said, “and for your disgusting misappropriation of the Dark Hunter name.” “Sh-Shady?!” ‘Shady’s’ expression turned to anger. “For the last time, I am not and have never been ‘Shady’!” Without hesitation, he slit the throat of Lord Darkness, before releasing his dying leader to fall to the floor. “I am the Shadowed One.” - When all was said and done, half of the marauders in the room lay dying on the floor. Most of the commanding officers shared their fate. The Shadowed One wasted no time in addressing the remaining Dark Hunters. “My friends, the time has come. I have come to trust each of you over the years, and confided in you the truth of the Dark Hunters. You all agreed to follow me if I made my move… and that is why you still stand. These wretches could not see the bigger picture – but you… you all know the truth.” Reisen remained seated. Now did not seem like an appropriate time to interject… and yet, he felt his bindings loosening. A hand fell on his shoulder, and he felt someone’s mouth speak close to his ear in a hushed whisper. “Come with me if you want off this boat alive.” Reisen glanced over his shoulder, finding a being like the Shadowed One. This one was broader in the shoulders, with blue apparent beneath his armor. As the Shadowed One continued his speech, Reisen wordlessly followed the being who had freed him. The Water Protectors from earlier – along with others – followed too, still in a trance-like state. The being led them to a large hatch in the side of the ship and opened it up, gesturing to a boat floating just below with several pairs of oars on board. “Take this, and sail back to your island. You have time enough to save your crippled ships before they sink.” The other Water Protectors all stepped back, climbing down into the boat in an orderly fashion. “Thank you,” Reisen said. “Give my thanks to the Shadowed One.” “If ever we meet again, I am Ancient,” the being said, shaking their head. “But it is not the Shadowed One you should thank. Your Titan, Umarak, sends his regards.” The hatch closed as Reisen descended onto the boat, and Reisen seized the backmost pair of oars, taking control of the boat. Thankfully, they weren’t too far off the coast, and they were soon reuniting with several of Reisen’s soldiers as the Protectors with Reisen slowly regained lucidity. “Commander Reisen, it’s good to see you,” one of his Captains said warmly, smiling at him. “We thought you were a goner – how did you escape?” “There was a coup among the pirates,” Reisen said. “One freed me in the name of Umarak.” “Umarak? After all this time?” she asked, sounding curious. “We’ll have to think about it later. There are still men trapped on the ships – we have to save them!” - Reisen had just finished his approach to the last of the ships – which was now steadily sinking – when one of the personnel onboard spotted them. “Someone’s trapped on the lower decks!” she called down to them. “We can’t get him!” Reisen frowned, glancing over the ship quickly as the Protectors on the deck of the ship began to lower themselves onto the life boats with rope ladders. Finding nothing on the hull, he climbed up one of the rope ladders himself, joining the Protector. “Where is he?” he asked her, recognizing her as Captain Idris. “Closest estimate.” “Starboard side. I’ll lead you to him!” Followed by a few other sailors, they made their way down into the bowels of the ship. They found a Protector trapped under a collapsed bulkhead, with two others desperately trying to pull him out. Water was steadily rushing in to fill the compartment. Reisen rushed to assist with his men alongside, and with great effort, they all tried to life the bulkhead off the sailor. After a long, tense moment the bulkhead finally gave, and the sailor managed to wriggle out, though as he lay gasping on the floor, Reisen realized he wouldn’t be in any shape to walk himself. Hauling the man to his feet, Reisen and Idris both supported the man as the group began making their way through the rapidly flooding ship. As Reisen and Idris slowly made their way, the rest of the group vanished one by one, too caught up in the panic of escaping a watery grave to remember waiting for them. Soon enough they were alone, hauling the injured man between them. The ship creaked unnervingly, and it was becoming harder and harder to wade through the water as it rose. “Sir, we need to move faster,” Idris huffed. “The ship’s about to-” Suddenly the full force of the ocean rushed in, catching them off guard despite Idris’s warning. Idris managed to latch onto a bulkhead, keeping herself and the injured sailor safe, but Reisen lost his grip, and was soon carried off by the roaring water into the dark abyss. Flailing widly, Reisen tried to grab onto an obtrusion he could, but in the deep cold dark, there was nothing to grasp. Without air and light, and without hope, he soon passed out into the dark of the sea. -Karamu- -Rassilon Oak- IC: Rassilon Rassilon slowly awoken to find himself lying on his back on the jungle floor. He felt… strange, like a coil of rope that had been stretched beyond its limits and re-sewn. He tried to stand, and after a few fumbling attempts succeeded – only to smack his head on a branch that he was certain hadn’t been there before. What the? A quick check revealed that he was much taller than before – if he had to guess, he would have said that he was as tall as Toa Lewa now. Explains the stretchy feeling, I guess. Still somewhat confused, however, he drew one of his swords out of its sheathe, trying to use its polished surface as a mirror. He couldn’t make out much thanks to how thin the blade was, but it looked like the Creature of Jungle had, for lack of a better term, merged with him. I need to get back to Hinterhall, he thought. Who knows what might be happening there? Perhaps they might have some records I can check… I’d really rather not have to travel all the way to Rollor’s Reach. He turned toward Hinterhall, but froze in place as he suddenly got the sense that Hinterhall, as much trouble as it might be in, wasn’t the place to be. That same, strange sense seemed to be trying to direct him further south. Is this a part of being a Toa, or is it the Creature of Jungle at work? He wondered. Can I… ignore it? “I promise to go south, Creature of Jungle, but I must tell my comrades that I am alright first,” he said aloud, deciding to be safe. “They must be worried about my disappearance. Once they know that I am a Toa… or, well, something… anyway, once they know, I’ll go south.” There was no response, but he found it easy enough to avoid the sense as he made his way to Hinterhall. He found the city in chaos. Acid was still strewn everywhere from Lerahk, slowly eating through anything it came into contact with. Rassilon could see Protectors looting, raiding and rioting, with the soldiers present desperately trying and failing to re-gain order, seeming to lack any command. Lerahk probably killed the ranking officers first, if it had any intelligence. Standing before him, staring at all of the chaos in silence, was the familiar rusted navy form of Sahmad. “Care to explain, Mask Maker?” Rassilon asked, moving to stand next to Sahmad. Sahmad turned to him and frowned. “Rassilon?” “Yes. I’ve changed a bit since we last met,” he said. “So – how can we stop the acid from destroying the city? I’m guessing some very strong base could slow it, but I’m not sure. You have come to help, haven’t you?” “You need to go,” Sahmad said, sounding somewhat distracted. “I’m guessing you managed to unite with the Creature of Jungle – good for you. But seeing another Toa right now is the last thing this city needs while Lewa’s still going mad. I’ll try and find whoever is in charge, and help them to re-establish order.” “The leaders might be worried that I’ve gone missing,” Rassilon said, extending his hand to the Mask Maker. “Promise me that you’ll tell them I’m alive and well.” “I will.” Sahmad shook his hand before turning away. “I’d suggest you go to Arcadia – Keetongu was last sighted in the jungle around it, and… I have a feeling you might find Lewa there as well.” Perhaps my new sixth sense knows what it’s doing after all, Rassilon realized. It was pointing me south before – but to Keetongu, or to Lewa, or simply to where I am needed? - He had just reached the outskirts of Arcadia when a giant yellow figure with one eye crashed through the trees up ahead, rolling to a stop against the city walls. Rassilon could hear the shouting of soldiers, and watched as the figure – who he realized must be Keetongu – irritably batted away several arrows fired by Jungle Protectors. Vines wrapped around Keetongu’s ankles, but it ripped those away too. Lewa, it seemed, was near – and he was, for now, fighting alongside Arcadia. Pulling out his dual swords, Rassilon headed toward the Spirit of the Wild, before hestitating. If I am a Toa, I must have my own elemental powers…. “Creature, what abilities do we have?” he asked. The lack of a response was deafening, and Rassilon sighed, a strange sense of melancholy falling over him. No doubt he did have abilities – but the Creature of Jungle as he’d known it existed no longer. Before him, Keetongu used a long blade attached to its left wrist to deflect a series of blows from Lewa’s axes, before a set of rotating saw blades held in its right hand began to spin, slicing a Protector of Jungle in half. Rassilon slowly snuck through the trees until he was behind the Spirit of the Wild. It didn’t appear any weaker in the back than the front, but an ambush was always more effective than a regular attack – and so he made his move. Lunging forward, he swung one of his swords, managing to slice open Keetongu’s back on the right side. Keetongu roared, kicking him away into a pile of nearby Jungle Protectors. The Protectors seemed both shocked and confused at the sight of Rassilon, but Lewa ignored them all, continuing to press the attack. “Oh, my head,” Rassilon groaned, rubbing it as he stood, helping a few of the Protectors back to their feet. “Tell the rest that I’m on your side. I’m Rassilon Oak… and… well, I’ll explain everything to you later. I managed to cut just beneath its shoulder, you should focus your fire there.” Keetongu tossed Lewa past all of them, and the Toa slammed into a tree. At Rassilon’s signal, several of the Protectors fired arrows at Keetongu from all directions. Several landed in the wound that he had created, and the Spirit of the Wild roared again, infuriated, before charging at him. “Keep firing and help Lewa!” he called, diving to the side and barely managing to catch Keetongu’s spinning saw blades with his swords. Keetongu pressed down upon him, and Rassilon quickly began to crumble under its superior strength – but a vine wrapped around Keetongu’s throat and yanked it back, sending it sprawling into the dirt. Seizing the opportunity, Rassilon dove forward, slashing at Keetongu’s ankles. He managed to slice both open, and the Spirit of the Wild screamed as it fought its way back to its feet, only to collapse again. The temperature around it started to chill, as a shadowy aura began to form. “It’s calling the Dark Energy!” one of the Protectors warned. “STOP IT!” another yelled. “FIRE!!” Finding himself now behind Keetongu, Rassilon ran up and thrust his blades into Keetongu’s back, aiming for its heart. Despite his success, the injury seemed to only enrage Keetongu further; it reached back with one hand and easily tossed Rassilon into a tree several feet away, with both of his swords stuck in its back. He slowly stood, his body aching all over. Stumbling over to one of the archers, he pointed at Keetongu’s eye. “Shoot there! It’s eye! Blind it!” Rassilon grabbed a bow from one of the dead Protectors and made to follow his own advice – only for the bow to snap apart in his hands, clearly not designed for the strength of a Toa. He was forced to retreat toward the city walls as Keetongu stalked forward. The Spirit of the Wild seemed like an impenetrable wall as it approached, and Rassilon fell back further, until he was crouched next to Lewa, who seemed to be in tremendous pain. “What’s wrong? Lewa?” he asked. “Medic! I need a medic!” No medic showed – though he did spot the dead body of one a few feet away. A second later, however, Lewa grunted, managing to speak through gritted teeth: “My mind. The Hordika… it’s fighting me. I’m going to lose my mind soon.” One arrow caught Keetongu in its eye, and it screamed, before blindly hacking its way through the nearest Protectors. “Remember who you are,” Rassilon said. “You’re no beast, no monster. You are a Toa, of Okoto. Remember what makes you you.” Noticing the other Toa’s axes, an idea began to form in his eyes. “Can I use one of your axes?” Lewa grinned, handing him one. “I’m right behind you.” Together, they snuck around behind Keetongu. “Aim for the neck,” Rassilon said. “You get the left… I’ve got the right.” Several Protectors realized what they were doing as both Toa moved in, and they all tackled Keetongu, grabbing onto it. As Keetongu stumbled, distracted, he and Lewa both swung their axes – -and met in the middle. Keetongu’s head slowly toppled to the jungle floor, before his body followed with a thundering crash. -Qendroj City- -Efandril Aodh- IC: Efandril, Jed(B.Exit), Tex(B.Exit), Isniel(B.Exit), Jakura(Meeting), Bartok(Meeting) Seething with silent fury, Efandril waited for Nuhrii to return from taking the Knights away, hoping that the Captain’s display of intense ignorance would earn her some sympathy later when she was forced to free the group with fervent apologies. Fate, it seemed, was conspiring against her – for Nuhrii had barely rounded the nearest corner before she overheard his next, fatally overconfident words. “Try to enjoy these next few moments, Knights. They’ll be your last.” You godforsaken buffoon, she thought. “Hold!” she shouted, charging to pursue the group, with Elittra at her heels. Relief rushed through her as she rounded the corner to find that the soldiers she had inserted among Nuhrii’s had already forced everyone to halt. “We cannot execute the Knights!” “Watch me,” Nuhrii said, grabbing the nearest Knight – and then slitting their throat, scowling at her. “That’s what you get, for trying to steal my command!” A sharp gesture of her hand was enough for her own soldiers to unsheathe their weapons, each of their blades resting against the neck of one of Nuhrii’s soldiers. Efandril slowly unsheathed her own sword, stepping toward Nuhrii and thrusting it at his throat. Nuhrii dodged it – or rather, shoved the quickly dying Knight into the path of the blade. He wasn’t as prepared for Elittra’s dagger to bury itself in his side. Knowing that allowing Nuhrii to live would only get her locked into the exhausting process of a trial – one that would undoubtedly carry the risk of Nuhrii calling for a Trial by Combat – and out of patience, Efandril moved to behead the deposed captain. His head hit the floor a second later, rolling to a stop against the foot of Isniel Lasang. “I suppose that’s that,” Elittra said after a moment, staring down at the body. Tex spoke next, sounding hesitant. “My lady… we do have business in the Barren. We… would appreciate it if we could complete our task.” Kicking Nuhrii’s head away from him, Isniel grumbled something about the dead Knight having deserved a better fate before glancing up at her. “He’s right. We request permission to exit the city, and enter the Barren.” Will wonders never cease? If any Protector of Fire or member of Aodh were to make friends with a Jungle Protector, it’d be Tex, she thought, observing the two and continuing to breathe heavily, before signalling for a cloth to wipe off her blade. “Of course,” she said, accepting a rag from one of her soldiers and running it along the blade of her sword. “You have my sincerest apologies for all of this. I should have killed him earlier, and I take full responsibility for your fallen comrade. I will front the costs for any funeral rites out of my own pocket.” Having finished wiping down her blade, Efandril sheathed it before gesturing toward the passage leading to the Barren Gate. “As for your quest… by all means, please leave at your leisure. If it makes any difference to you, please know that the leadership of Aodhiim would never order such thoughtless brutality. Nuhrii acted of his own accord, without any orders from above – as far as I know.” The Kingslayer appeared unconvinced, but remained silent as he turned down the path that she had noted. Efandril stepped aside, Elittra and her soldiers following suit, though as Tex passed, she set a hand on his shoulder. “I apologize to you most of all,” she said quietly. “This… fiasco will no doubt present an added degree of difficulty for you, considering your… unique duality of office.” Tex frowned, looking uneasily at Elittra before he shrugged. “It won’t matter for long if we can’t stop the Great War.” - With the Knights gone on their way, Efandril and Elittra made their way to the Council Chambers in the center of the city, where Okoto’s Kings had once sat with their Small Council. Although it no longer saw as much use, it remained one of the most secure and private locations in the city. “I doubt you’ll need much help taking on the task of ruling this city,” Efandril said, once it was clear that they were alone. “You’ve always been resourceful. I must be on my way before long, though I’ll speak with the Imperator and Bartok before I go. Once I return to Vakama City, I’ll instruct Takua to supply you with some… ordnance. It will strengthen our defensive garrison here, and will make for a nice reserve later. I’d like you to keep it as secret as possible, however. Handle the manifests personally, and waive as many inspections of the incoming carts as you can.” Elittra nodded. “The vaults beneath the city?” “Luroka undoubtedly emptied them and gave everything to the Knights, but search them anyway,” she said. “Who knows? Perhaps there were things he felt even the Knights shouldn’t know.” She quickly filled Elittra in on the other numerous details of the position, before preparing to depart from the chamber. “Do you have any questions, before I go?” “Only one, my lady,” Elittra said softly. “Voltex Aodh… I know that he is the only member of House Aodh that you hold any true fondness for, and he is not a fighter. But his political influence is, perhaps, more vast than even he knows. What do you intend for him, when the time comes?” “I will do as I must,” Efandril said. “I hope I can maneuver him to be away from Aodhiim, but I must not allow weakness to keep me from my destiny.” With that, she threw on her cloak. “Good day, and good luck, Captain Elittra,” she said with a wink, before leaving. - She ran into Balta on her way to Bartok’s chambers, and as they approached, they could hear Jakura speaking, the Imperator clearly irate: “If you can’t do this simple task, what can you do?!” Exchanging a worried glance with Balta, Efandril pushed open the door and entered with a bow. “My apologies if I intrude, your grace. Shall I wait outside while you finish?” Jakura glanced over his shoulder at Efandril and Balta. Two guards flanked him, though they now stepped aside, and Efandril could see Bartok seated on his bed, appearing expressionless – except for his eyes, which revealed the Diplomat’s frustration. “No,” the Imperator said, sighing and regaining his composure with ease. “In fact, it’s rather convenient that you’ve arrived. I’ve been questioning Bartok about his mission in Burned Harbor – his failed mission,” he added, his cold eyes slowly slipping back to meet the Diplomat’s. Efandril eyed Bartok with a mixture of derision and pity, before turning her gaze back toward the Imperator. “How badly did he fail?” “A good question – the answer depends entirely on your point of view,” said Jakura. “On the one hand, Gavla Lurrun turned him away without a definitive answer. On the other hand… it sounds like she isn’t so much opposed to the idea of annexation as she is to Bartok’s incompetent efforts to convince her. If nothing else, she must be insulted by this. But I don’t believe that the opportunity has been lost quite yet.” The ideal follow-up out to be apparent, Efandril thought, remaining silent. Jakura gave her an inquisitive look. “You wish to go in Bartok’s stead?” “Do I wish to? Certainly not; I would be indescribably happier had he managed to get the job done himself. However, I think we both want that territory under the flag of Aodhiim, and of the four people we could send to secure it… one has failed. Another is in the Barren, and a third has a nation to run.” She gestured widely with her arms. “I am the only realistic choice, and I expect you know that already.” The Imperator said nothing at first, his face clouding over briefly with some strange sense of frustration or longing – it was hard to be sure, and it was gone almost as soon as it had surfaced. Jakura folded his arms behind his back and glanced over at Bartok, who was fittingly silent, before looking back to her. “Very well. But you’ll take Bartok with you. Perhaps he can learn some competence from watching you work.” “As you wish,” Efandril said, sparing the Diplomat a bored-seeming wayward glance. “Before I head to the South, however, I intended to make a brief stop-off in Vakama City. It was my thinking that, given its sturdy construction, Qendroj City might make a great location to store some of our darkfire – not to mention the defensive boost it would give our garrison. I planned to instruct my Pyromancers to have some shipped here.” “How much, exactly?” “Enough to carry the city through any attack it may suffer – spirit forbid – and enough to serve as the emergency store that we have sorely needed. Some small fraction of the vast quantities beneath Vakama City.” “So long as you can maintain a safe transfer, then proceed,” said Jakura. “For too long the darkfire has remained in one place. You have my permission.” “Wonderful. I’ve already arranged for its transfer on this end,” Efandril said, before grimacing as she remembered the former captain. “Ah, with the… new Captain of Qendroj City. Has anyone apprised you of the details?” “I was just about to ask you, actually. How is Nuhrii faring?” “He’s not.” Her face soured at the mention of the idiot’s name. “He took the ‘promotion’ poorly enough to commit high treason, so… rather poorly. It’s unfortunate that he forced my hand in such a manner, but he made enough of a spectacle defying direct orders that I doubt his death will draw any sympathy. Particularly since he killed a man in cold blood.” There was nothing but silence from the Imperator for several moments, his icy gaze piercing the shadows where he stood. “Whom, pray tell, did he kill?” “A Knight of Ekimu.” Deafening silence descended once more, broken only by the slight uncomfortable shifting of Jakura’s guards. “Where is the envoy?” the Imperator finally asked. “I allowed them to pass. I couldn’t detain them any longer after that – and, well, Tex was among them,” she said. “I’ve had very few viable options on how to proceed since entering the city; the whole scenario went rather badly, but I should like to think that it could have turned out much worse.” “It’s unfortunate that he was killed so quickly,” Jakura murmured. “I should have had the writhing little ferret imprisoned when I had the chance. But what’s done is done – let Tex sort this out with the Knights; we have other priorities. Go to Vakama City with Bartok, and then visit Gavla.” “Thank you,” she said with her characteristic bow, as Bartok exited the room. “Good day, Imperator.” “Spirit be with you,” Jakura said to her somewhat distractedly, seeming to speak more to himself than to her. “Be safe.” To Be Continued in Part II. -For those unaware, I've been extremely busy (and then quite sick) in the midst of writing this episode, so Parts II and III still need to be completed. Since the wait has been so long, however, Part 1 of Episode 3 is here for you now. With any luck, Part II should be up sometime this weekend.

even if it was a terrible idea it would be more than nothing but this also sounds interesting, so

hi

Here's a teaser for Episode 3: Shadow of the Storm, while I continue to work on the episode. Jed, Isniel, and Tex learn some of the unwritten history of Okoto as they follow Metus beneath the Barren, and find Okoto's ancient enemy.... - -The Barren- -Jed Corruich- IC: Jed, Tex, Isniel “I’ll take the lead from here,” Metus said as they all stepped out onto the Barren. “I… I know the way.” The Protector of Ice sounded hesitant, and nervous, as he led them into the wasteland. “You do?” Jed couldn’t help but ask, genuinely surprised. What secrets has Metus been hiding from us? “I haven’t been entirely truthful,” Metus admitted. “I… I know what lies beneath the Barren. Sahmad showed me.” “Sahmad?” “A Mask Maker,” Metus said. “He’s been working to try and delay or stop the Great War – as well as help Okoto to prepare for it.” “I see,” Jed replied, though he didn’t. “Why didn’t you let us know of him sooner? We would have been happy to work with him to prevent any further catastrophe.” “Because what you’re going to see, what you’re going to do…” Metus trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s going to go against everything you think you know.” At those ominous words, Jed fell silent, sharing a worried look with Tex. “That sounds… foreboding,” Isniel said slowly. “I mean, we might see whatever you’re describing anyway, right? In the Barren?” Metus ignored him. The ground beneath the group trembled as they approached what appeared to be some sort of cave. Metus reached into his pack and pulled out several white crystals, handing one to each member of the group and keeping one for himself. “Lightstones,” he said. “An invention of the Mask Makers. They’ll allow us to see beneath the surface.” “Thank you,” Isniel said, holding his own lightstone up against the darkness of the cave. “What could be resting in the depths?” “He’s a Titan,” Metus explained, leading the way into the cave, which seemed to stretch down deeper than it had any right to. “You’ve all read the lore by now. There were once six Titans on Okoto – Umarak, Kulta, Eankbut, Angonce, Heremus, and Annona. Kulta killed Eankbut, as well as Heremus, whose essence became the Elemental Creatures. Annona led the Mask Makers away to a new home long ago, and Angonce split his own essence into the six Toa. Umarak still lives.” “Wherever he is,” Tex murmured. “They weren’t the only Titans, however,” Metus continued. “They were the Titans of Light, given life by the goddess Ma… and Ata, the god of destruction… he created Titans of his own.” “I’m going to assume that this Titan, unlike the others, wishes to harm the island,” Isniel said. “As you might expect, the Dark Titans, being creations of Ata, at first wished only to destroy,” Metus explained, leading them further into the darkness. Only the lightstones lit their path now. “The Dark Energy that powered Kulta – that’s Ata, or at least, his essence. It corrupts everyone and everything it touches, if certain precautions-” he shook his lightstone “-aren’t taken. The Dark Titans were created with the Dark Energy.” “So where are they?” Tex asked. Metus frowned. “It… gets a bit fuzzy, here. Okoto has no records, or anything. It’s just what I’ve learned from Sahmad. But at some point, the Dark Titans turned against the Dark Energy. They decided that they would rather rule over life, instead of destroying it. Only one disagreed – their leader. So he struck out once more against Okoto.” “…and he was imprisoned down here,” Jed realized. “He was. The other Dark Titans turned on him, and with the help of the Okoto Titans, imprisoned him deep beneath the island,” Metus said. “The prison itself was built and locked using the magics of the Okoto Titans – but it has been weakening for the past twenty years. With five of them dead and the other gone, there’s nothing left to hold it together.” Now, Metus smiled. “I won’t pretend that he’s always kind. But… an eternity down here, by himself, must have changed his mind at least a little. If he finds Okoto worthy, he will help us in the Great War.” “Let’s hope he does,” Jed murmured. “So we’re going to see the Dark Titan leader himself?” Isniel asked. “How can he help us, anyway?” “What we’re going to be fighting is more powerful than the Titans ever will be,” Metus said. “We’re going to need all the power on our side that we can get.” “Well, I hope he’ll cooperate despite being sealed in this prion alone,” Isniel said, sounding worried. “Who knows how much his mind might have changed?” Jed hummed in agreement. “Let’s just pray that being down here for however long he has hasn’t driven him to madness.” Before them, the darkness felt like it was getting colder. More solid. Even with the lightstone in his hand, Jed could barely make out Metus and Isniel in front of him. And then…. “We’re here,” Metus breathed, stopping. “Last chance for anybody who wants to stay back.” After a short pause, Jed stepped forward. “I’m willing to meet him,” he said, turning to the two Knights bringing up the rear. “Both of you stay here. If we don’t return… warn Okoto.” Nodding to Metus, Tex, and Isniel, Jed stepped into the shadows, the others close behind. The darkness was so solid that he couldn’t see the others anymore. The chill seeped into his bones. The sound of his footsteps had become muffled, and the air was thick; it was quickly becoming a struggle to breathe. He could still feel the presence of the others, but even that was rapidly being drowned out with every step that he took. And then, before he had any hope of reacting, a dark presence surrounded him entirely. Two gleaming red eyes slowly opened in the shadows before him, but when the presence spoke, its voice echoed all around, a malevolent whisper in his ears. “I cannot decide,” it said, sounding contemplative, “whether it is bravery that has drawn you here without knowing who I am… or foolishness.” The presence fell silent for a long moment, seeming to mull over its next words. Jed tried to speak, but each attempt failed as he choked on the shadows. They now felt as thick as sludge. “I suppose it matters not. I am told that all records of me have been lost to time… and even if you knew who I was, what I am capable of… you would still be forced to confront me. It is your duty… and your destiny.” The darkness coiled around him, and Jed felt it beginning to gently squeeze, threatening to crush him into less than nothing in an instant. “I am of Ata, of the great darkness, made to destroy the world,” the presence continued. “I fought long ago to erase this island, to wipe it clean. Now, my prison breaks. Soon I will be free, to complete my task.” Now it felt as though the presence was leaning in, its voice rumbling directly into Jed’s ears, a great hand clenching at his skull. “Sahmad asks me to spare you all. He brings claims of a prophecy older than even myself, tidings of the Great War. He has tried to convince me that my efforts would be better spent helping you, guiding you in the war to come. To help you destroy that which has never been destroyed before.” Just as suddenly as it had surrounded him, the presence seemed to withdraw, until all that he could make of it were the two gleaming red eyes. “I care not,” it said, sounding tired. “I have spent an eternity in this cage. My rage has cooled, my loyalty has wavered. The great Ata would have me destroy you all… but I am willing to reconsider. So…” And then it was back, all around him, poised to strike. “Convince me.” Taking a deep breath, Jed slowly stepped forward. “Titan of Ata, my name is Jed Corruich. I am the Kingslayer, and Lord Commander for the Knights of Ekimu. I have lived for 52 years on Okoto. In my time I have seen the island change, and seen many threats to its peace. The greatest threat, I thought, was that of Kulta and the Faith of the Skulls. The fear I felt when I met her was the greatest I have ever felt. She seemed unstoppable; she convinced half the island to fight for her cause. It took the rest of us uniting together to stop her, and even then, we lost many good men. Close friends. Even in defeat, she threatened us, for we spiralled into a six year war which tore the island apart more than she ever had. I thought there was no being more powerful than her.” He felt a hand resting on his shoulder in solidarity – from Tex, no doubt. “I realize now that I was mistaken,” he continued. “the aura of darkness which you exude now is enough to prove this. I have no doubt that you could destroy this island single-handedly, and we would be powerless to stop you. But I must plead that you do not. We need your power, as Sahmad has surely explained. If what he says is true, whatever comes to destroy Okoto is more powerful even than you, and we cannot fight it on our own. We need your help.” He could feel the presence of the Titan. It was curious. “I do not know what you want,” Jed admitted. “I cannot see into you mind. But whatever it is, if you do not help us, you will never find it. There will not be an island to destroy or to rule, no island to live on in peace. But if you lend us your strength, and your powers, then maybe, just maybe, we can succeed against this enemy. And I promise to accommodate whatever it is that you wish if it is within my power.” “There is nothing that I want, nothing that I seek,” the presence said. “My name is all I have. You may call me Teridax.” “Well then… Teridax,” Isniel said slowly, from somewhere off to the right, “another threat is brewing and Okoto needs all the help it can get. Thousands of lives will be lost, and the whole island destroyed. Life might never flourish again. Will you not help your home island?” “My home is far from here,” Teridax said. “An island called Destral, home to the Dark Realms.” “Do you not want to be free, to return home?” Jed asked. “I will be free soon regardless,” the Dark Titan said. “But my home… no. My brethren turned against me. They were right to do so… but I do not know that there will be a place for me there. It has been too long.” He sounded almost… wistful. He does want something, Jed realized. He wants a home. He wants to belong. It doesn’t matter where. “I don’t know how the rest of Okoto will react,” he said, “but we can help you to belong.” The Titan laughed, and Jed could feel the cave walls rumbling with it. “I tried to destroy Okoto. Where could your people possibly allow me to call home?” “I’m sure that we can allow you to stay in Rollor’s Reach. If anybody would be willing to offer you a home, it would be us,” Jed promised. “The Knights study Okoto’s history, and act in the island’s defense. If you help us in the war to come, many will become more hospitable to you, and you would soon earn your place there.” “Rollor’s Reach… the city named for the highest of the divine gods,” Teridax mused. “Very well, Kingslayer.” The darkness pulled back, allowing Jed to see Metus, Tex and Isniel once more. Tex’s hand slid away from his shoulder as a figure as tall as Kulta and Umarak stepped into view. He wore a black mask with an ancient yet simple design. Highlights of bright red could be seen all along his gunmetal armor, which was of a simpler, rounder design than Jed was used to. The Titan held a long staff with two blades at its end in one hand. “Thank you for deciding to help us, Teridax,” Jed said, inclining his head respectfully before turning to the others. “We should head back to the Reach as soon as possible. Who knows what may have happened while we’ve been away?” “Follow me,” Teridax said. “There has been a battle atop the Barren. We will stop there first.”

I'm officially ending Episode 3: Shadow of the Storm here. The following PMs with me can continue: -Rassilon If you're with Onaku, you'll need to wait for him to inform you as to whether you'll continue or not.

congrats!

And it turns out that we're on the edge of several cliffhangers but haven't quite made it, so nothing ends today after all. Woo!

I will begin ending Episode 3 later today for certain players. The round itself will likely continue for another day or two.

Episode Two “Divided We Fall” (Part III) -Kamuk, New Makuta City: Prison- -Vinheim Maran- IC: Vinheim, ShadowVezon (Found) Leaving Ahkmou in charge of Daggerfall, Vinheim had taken 305 soldiers with him to New Makuta City. With Quin having finally revealed his true colors, Vinheim wanted to waste no time in preventing ShadowVezon from doing the same. Upon arrival at the prison, Vinheim signalled for twenty of his soldiers to accompany him, while the rest remained on guard. Inside he was greeted by the Warden almost immediately, who looked both terrified and relieved. “Your grace, thank the gods,” he said. “The traitor – he’s missing from his cell, and his guard is gone. We haven’t raised the alarm, but the only way out is the way you came in, so they’re still inside somewhere.” Vinheim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve already blocked the exit. Did anyone else of importance arrive before me? Any figures in navy armor?” “No, your grace.” “Good… then lead me to the cell.” The Warden did just that, but Vinheim was disappointed to discover that there was nothing out of the ordinary. Except, of course, for the lack of its prisoner. “How long ago did you notice he was missing?” Vinheim asked. “An hour. He hasn’t been missing for much longer than that, patrols come through every fifteen minutes. Still, if his guard is assisting him then they might be anywhere in the prison.” “And there are no other exits?” “None. Best way to keep the building secure.” “I agree. Have the guards checked the lower sections of the prison?” Vinheim asked as his right hand drifted toward his chin in thought. “And why has the alarm not been raised?” “A quiet lockdown helps to prevent both panicked and interested crowds outside,” the Warden said. “If, by some miracle, none of our guards have been mouthy idiots… then it’s possible the traitor is unaware that the lockdown is even in place.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t count on that last one. As for the search, we’ve swept everywhere and will continue to do so.” “My guards are not idiots, Warden,” Vinheim said coldly, turning to face him. “Do you know what I’ve had to go through recently? It’s a rhetorical question. Our General has betrayed the nation. He killed several soldiers and attempted to steal a valuable treasure. I gave him mercy and was repaid with betrayal – so I came here to silence the other traitor, only to find out that he is also running free! It’s too convenient, that both of them have decided to enact such plans now.” “Convenient isn’t the word I’d use,” the Warden said, his voice going just as cold as Vinheim’s. “And your guards aren’t the ones I was complaining about, your grace. Nor are they the ones that have failed to find their quarry.” “Let us return to the main hall,” Vinheim said briskly, deciding to ignore the sudden tension his outburst had caused. “I believe the smell in here is affecting my mind. Tell me of ShadowVezon’s guard.” “Dekar Stalac,” the Warden said, leading him back toward the surface. “About thirty years old. Not particularly ambitious – or at least, he didn’t used to be. He’s good with a sword – you need to be, to be a guard here – but not great. Nothing to suggest that he would be a traitor… which, in hindsight, should have been a sign itself.” “ShadowVezon is cunning…” Vinheim momentarily trailed off, remembering how ShadowVezon had originally come to power, before continuing, “there was a reason he ruled Kamuk for as long as he did. In the future, we shall have to rotate the guards for high profile prisoners. Leave anyone alone with someone for too long, and one of two things will happen. One will kill the other, or they’ll find common ground.” “As you command, your grace.” As they neared the main hall, with guards checking in the rooms up ahead, Vinheim continued, “it doesn’t help that I’ve heard of a navy armored Protector lurking around, appearing in cells suddenly. ShadowVezon has been imprisoned for over ten years and never attempted to escape until now… it reeks of outside interference. Though at least he should be weak from his extended imprisonment.” Before the Warden could respond, they heard several guards shout out from one of the offices up ahead. A moment later the guards returned to the hallway, dragging Dekar Stalac and ShadowVezon with them. The latter, surprisingly, looked as healthy as one could hope to be; pushing the observation to the back of his mind and allowing himself a congratulatory smirk, Vinheim gestured for the guards to take the prisoners to the main lobby, where his elite soldiers and many other guards remained gathered. Once he arrived, Vinheim paced in front of the prisoners, ordering the guards to force the former King and the disgraced guard into kneeling positions. “I came here today to have you properly executed, due to the actions of the former General Quin,” Vinheim said, drawing his rapier and gently placing the tip of the blade under Dekar’s chin as he stared at ShadowVezon. “At least such an execution will be easier to justify now, though it’s a shame you dragged another into your fight. Why bother, ShadowVezon? Why now? You’ve been rotting in here for ten years, while I have worked to ensure Kamuk heals and prospers.” “You think that I chose to remain imprisoned in the nightmare you left me in?” ShadowVezon asked, incredulous. “You think I chose to cower in the dark while you defiled the kingdom I dedicated my life toward restoring? I bothered because even after every piece of abuse you put me through, I still see a brighter future for Kamuk. One above the smokescreen of your lies, and others see the same.” “Defiled?” Vinheim spat. “That is laughable. Kamuk has prospered under my rule, under democracy. You relied on a legion that would have been Okoto’s doom to rebuild Kamuk. I did not.” He pushed the tip of his rapier into Dekar’s chin, just enough to nick it, and watched as a bead of blood fell to the floor. “Yet I notice you did not answer my question,” he continued. “Why now? Or perhaps… how? You seem surprisingly fit for someone who was imprisoned for ten years. Could it be, perhaps, that you’ve had help? Assistance from a Mask Maker?” At that, a crystal in Dekar’s hand began to glow. Vinheim withdrew his rapier as several Protectors in the crowd around them gasped, many of the soldiers and guards dropping into battle stances. “I have to hand it to you, Dekar,” a voice said from behind Vinheim. “This does indeed count as an emergency.” Vinheim exhaled sharply, sheathing his rapier as he turned to face the speaker – a figure in rusted navy armor. An amused sort of chuckle escaped him. “Sahmad, I presume?” The figure bowed to him. “King Vinheim Maran. So lovely to meet you at last.” “You could have met me far sooner, Mask Maker, but you seemed to avoid me at all costs.” Vinheim tapped his chin and pouted, his tone turning mocking. “Perhaps if I had the cooks bake cookies you might have come.” Sahmad shrugged, not looking bothered beyond a glint in his eyes. “I’ll be frank with you. A… co-worker and I had a bet, you see. They bet on you to lead Kamuk through the Great War. I decided that I would champion the underdog.” Of losing said bet, Sahmad seemed calm and unbothered. “Clearly, I lost. But I’m sure my co-worker will be quite pleased that their efforts were not in vain.” “If ShadowVezon was your underdog, you chose poorly. Even if he had succeeded in escaping, the work he’d need to do to get back into the people’s favor would be larger than he is capable of,” Vinheim said. “You’d have been better off taking a Petros as your underdog… or perhaps you did? It would explain Anuhea’s sudden rise in popularity.” “Lord Anuhea has been a surprise to all of us,” Sahmad said. “I can admit when I was wrong, and I clearly misjudged ShadowVezon. But… as I have been called, I would like to offer an arrangement.” “Go on.” “Allow ShadowVezon to live,” Sahmad said, opening his arms. “As it currently stands, the Knights of Ekimu are under my command. Have him pledge to the Knights, and say their oaths. In doing so, he will give up any and all rights he has to Kamuk. He can prove himself useful to the Knights in the war to come, and the throne of Kamuk remains yours.” He smirked. “If you accept, I’ll also give you the location of your spy in the Knights. He had to leave Rollor’s Reach quite… suddenly.” Vinheim had no doubt that Sahmad was directly responsible for said departure. Shoving down a flash of frustration, he asked, “you would allow someone who was loyal to the enemy of the Knights within your ranks? That is incredibly foolish.” Sahmad merely raised an eyebrow in response. “You are going to have to offer more if you have any hopes of my accepting this offer,” Vinheim continued, lacing his hands behind his back. “ShadowVezon is no threat to my throne. He threatens only my life, and I can take care of that threat permanently, here and now. I’ll execute him for treason, and Dekar too, for attempting to escape. Both executable offenses. As for my contact… while it’d be helpful if he were to remain alive, you’ve already compromised him. No doubt there are Knights or informants in this very room listening to us.” Sahmad grinned, seeming amused. “The Knights have no informants in Kamuk, though I won’t expect you to believe that. They believe you would turn any spies of theirs to your side. It’s why they have also failed to lend you a Loremaster.” He clapped his hands together. “What is it that you want, Vinheim? What would you like me to offer? Tell me, and we shall see if it is something that I can give you.” “Do not take me for an idiot, Mask Maker,” Vinheim spat. “Kamuk is large, and there are cells of individuals who do not like my rule. Give me information. I desire to know how to cure Pohatu of whatever afflicts him. Think of me what you will, but I will not leave him to die, not like the Protectors of Water did to Gali. Provide me with that knowledge, and knowledge of my informant, and you can take both prisoners with all limbs attached. Though neither of them are to ever enter Kamuk again, lest they be killed on sight.” “Pohatu’s madness was caused by Keetongu,” Sahmad said. “Last I heard, Keetongu still wanders the jungles of Karamu. As for your informant… they are in the Barren.” “And I presume there is no way to cure Pohatu of said madness, other than dealing with this Keetongu?” Vinheim asked. “You’d presume correctly,” said Sahmad. “Killing Keetongu would certainly get the job done. I expect there must be some way to cure Keetongu himself, and then through them, the Toa, but… well, that might be more trouble than you’ll think is worth.” Vinheim opened his mouth, a loud and angry rant on the tip of his tongue at the Mask Maker’s cheek – or rather, what he saw as the Mask Maker’s cheek – but a quick glance at the gathered crowd caused the words to die on his tongue. “Very well. You may have the prisoners. But neither of them may step foot within Kamuk again. Understood?” “As you say,” Sahmad said, holding out his hand. “Shall we shake on it?” “No,” Vinheim said, his voice going cold, unable to withhold his anger and disdain any longer. “I am still suspicious of you, Sahmad. I’ve had plenty of political opponents try to poison me with a handshake. But before you go… I must ask one thing. If I pursue the cure for Keetongu, might I presume that you would be willing to offer the assistance of the Knights, should I call upon them for such a task?” Sahmad’s hand dropped to his side, and for the first time, the only emotion that Vinheim could see on the Mask Maker’s face was anger. No, not just anger – rage, seething rage, one boiling so hot with such a tight lid that it had frozen over. He began to have second thoughts as at least a third of the guards and the soldiers – even those most loyal to him – started glaring at him as well. “I see,” Sahmad said softly. “Let’s ignore the fact that I am aware that poisoning by hand shakes has never occurred in the history of Okoto. I would absolutely be willing to provide you with assistance. In fact-” if possible, the Mask Maker’s voice got even colder, and Vinheim could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped – “it just so happens that you have three Knights in this room right now, your grace.” Vinheim rolled his eyes at Sahmad, scoffing. “Don’t act like the victim here. You’ve brought this caution upon yourself, Sahmad. I know all about your meeting with Khan Nato, and what you did to the North. You spread a plague among its people, just to keep its leader out of your way. We learn from history, and it is clear you will go to extreme lengths to ensure your plans go as intended. I would not have survived as long as I have if I did not ere on the side of caution.” “Ere on the side of caution indeed,” Sahmad said. “And yet, you make wild accusation, threaten me, and speak above your station.” The Mask Maker snapped his fingers, and next to Vinheim, the Warden dropped to the floor. “Try again,” Sahmad said, “and do be careful to ‘ere on the side of caution’.” “Mask Maker, you do not scare me,” Vinheim said, standing his ground. “Kulta scared me, as was reasonable.” “Bad mistake,” Dekar muttered behind him. “Now,” Vinheim continued, ignoring the traitor, “we can both stand here and puff our chests like stone apes, or we can go our separate ways with the agreement as-is. I have things to do, and you have things to do… besides whatever you did to the Warden, which doesn’t help your case.” “I don’t need or want you to be scared of me, Vinheim,” Sahmad said, his expression grim. “But you should be scared… because I am all that stands in between you and something far, far worse than Kulta ever was.” The Mask Maker stepped around Vinheim to stand between ShadowVezon and Dekar, placing a hand on the shoulder of each. “Your Warden is merely asleep,” he continued, smirking. “Farewell for now, Vinheim. I’ll tell my co-worker to give you my regards.” Before Vinheim could respond, Sahmad vanished – with ShadowVezon and Dekar in tow. -The North- -Voltex Aodh- IC: Jed, Isniel, Efandril (Entrance) Tex retreated toward Jed and the other three Knights as Isniel picked up a rock and threw it at Kopaka, yelling the Toa’s name. The Toa of Ice continued stalking toward Isniel, not flinching as the rock missed him by an inch. You’ve got this, Isniel. Tex stumbled into the trees, finding Jed immediately. “He’s coming.” Together, they watched as Isniel slowly broke off into a run for the grove. Kopaka followed behind the Jungle Knight, and the Toa’s animalistic growls drifted to them in the wind. “Come on, Kopaka!” Isniel yelled, getting closer to the trees. “I’ve got something to show you!” Next to Tex, Jed turned to the others. “Be ready to topple the trees when the Toa gets near! I’ll wave my hand to signal when you should do it!” Sharing a glance with Tex, the Kingslayer then moved to get a better view of Isniel and Kopaka. Tex followed, cringing when they spotted the two once more. Kopaka was much taller than Isniel, and it was showing – he’d be upon Isniel before the Jungle Protector could reach the trees. “No, Isniel, come on-” He watched as Isniel turned to see Kopaka looming over him, and then- “TAKE THIS!” -with a furious cry that echoed into the skies above, Metus dove out of nowhere, grabbing onto Kopaka’s neck. He threw a loop of rope around the Toa’s neck and yanked it, choking Kopaka, before pulling out a dagger and stabbing the Toa of Ice in the shoulder. Kopaka roared, grabbing Metus by the mask and tossing him into the snow at Isniel’s feet. The Jungle Protector helped Metus to his feet, gesturing to the trees. “Storm’s getting worse,” Tex said to Jed. “It’s not Kopaka, but whatever’s causing it, they’re close.” Jed remained silent, his attention locked onto Kopaka. The Toa of Ice charged after both Isniel and Metus, but the two Knights made it into the safety of the grove. Without wasting a second, Jed signalled to the rest of the Knights just as Kopaka entered the treeline. The trees fell with perfect timing, crushing the Toa beneath their weight – only, they could see Kopaka’s face, and he was clearly very alive… and very angry. “I… am going to suggest we run the rest of the way to Qendroj City,” Tex said. - They found the gate into Qendroj City manned only by Fire Protectors, which was an immediate red flag. “Voltex Aodh? Is that you?” one called. Tex frowned. “Captian Nuhrii?” “In the flesh,” the other Fire Protector said. “Tell me… what is your business in Qendroj City today?” Where are the Earth Protectors? “We don’t have much business in the city itself,” Jed replied. “We’re simply hoping to pass through.” “Oh?” Tex heard a curious note in Nuhrii’s voice, one that set him on edge. “And where would this… ‘business’ of yours be, Knights?” Uh oh. “The Barren,” Jed answered, oblivious to Tex’s worries. “We’re investigating the recent tremors that have been occurring.” “Really?” Nuhrii asked, drawing the word out as he nodded along. “You know, you aren’t the first group of Knights that we’ve had trying to access the Barren… so come on in.” The gates slowly opened. “Sir,” Tex said, keeping his voice to a whisper, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. There aren’t any Earth Protectors up there….” “I’ve noticed,” the Kingslayer murmured. “But there’s not much we can do right now. We need to get to the Barren, and this is the fastest option to do so. At least we won’t have to worry about Kopaka anymore.” No, Tex thought. Just the small-thinking, power-hungry morons my nation put in charge here. As they entered, Jed turned his attention back to Nuhrii. “I’m surprised to hear that there were more Knights who came through.” “Who were they?” Isniel asked. “Perhaps we can compare notes,” Nuhrii said, as the gates shut behind the Knights and several Fire soldiers began to surround them. I knew it. “Hail!” Relief flooded through Tex at the sound of Efandril’s voice. The Head Pyromancer approached briskly with several soldiers in tow, and Tex watched as she rapidly made and discarded plans on the spot before she spoke again. “Captain Nuhrii Coal, by order of the Imperator, I have been sent here to sort out the new acquisition,” she said. “Let’s have a short conversation in another room, shall we, while these visitors rest their feet?” “Lady Pyromancer,” Nuhrii said, smiling and bowing low. “Welcome to Qendroj City. I’m afraid we will have to delay our meeting until these so-called ‘Knights’ have been escorted to the holding cells. They are the second group claiming to have business in the Barrens, and the first group quickly became… hostile.” The Captain’s expression soured for an instant, before being replaced by another smile. Efandril smiled back at him, just as broadly and insincerely. “I’m sure your soldiers can escort this bunch on their own, especially with my own to reinforce them,” she said, gesturing to her soldiers. “In the meantime, I have urgent orders from the Imperator. They relate to your acquisition of the city – the first of which, I expect, will be of quite some interest to you.” Here, Efandril winked. Tex cringed at the sight, but Nuhrii ate it up, basking in her attention before turning to one of his soldiers with a dirty look. “I’d rather be safe than sorry,” the Captain said. “I trusted lackeys to take the first group to their cells, and that group wasted no time in escaping. If you want it done right, do it yourself.” Most wouldn’t recognize what Efandril was feeling – in fact, Tex was certain nobody except for him noticed. Being forced to travel all over Okoto and navigate its various cultures may not have given him any sort of combat skills, but it had given him the ability to read people with extreme accuracy, and Efandril was exasperated. “There are 1800 reinforcements filing into this city and learning their new posts as we speak,” she said. “Even if these Knights manage to slip the group with us right now, I don’t give them a snowball’s odds in Silodas of escaping. The Imperator is pleased with this acquisition; let’s ensure he remains so, and go about following his orders as quickly as we can.” “I’m going with them,” Nuhrii said stubbornly, either ignoring or not noticing Efandril’s tone. “Qendroj City is under my command, Lady Efandril. I will do as I wish.” “Not sure what’s going on,” Isniel whispered, leaning over to Tex, “but I’m uneasy about all this.” “I… think that Aodhiim has taken over the city,” Tex admitted, whispering as well. “But it wasn’t planned. Nuhrii’s an idiot, but he’s probably being sincere right now. It’s… probably either going to save his life, or cost it.” “About that,” Efandril said, her left hand resting on her hip. Ohhh gods no. “The Imperator has ordered that you be promoted to the office of Oversee of Qendroj City,” Efandril continued. “You no longer need to burden yourself with commanding the troops; you’ve bigger fish to fry. With 2000 soldiers stationed here now, you’ll want someone else serving as Captain for you.” Please not her, please not her, please not her- Efandril gestured to her troops, and from the group emerged a tall, confident looking woman. She bowed to Efandril and Nuhrii in turn, and then winked at Tex. “This is Elittra Ember,” Efandril said. “I’m sure she’ll be a perfect fit for the postion.” Kill me now. -The Barren- -Ehksidian Glacies- IC: Ehks It wasn’t until they were a decent distance from Qendroj City – far enough that it would take the guards at least an hour to catch up with them – that Ehks deactivated the Mask of Time… or rather, she tried. It was with a slowly dawning sense of terror that she realized she didn’t have the power or the skills to stop the mask. She would need to hope that the mask would deactivate on its own. On the bright side, it was allowing for the group to cross the Barren with startling speed. On the other hand… the temperature was rapidly rising. “I can’t… turn it off,” she managed. “Velika. If I take it off… what will happen?” The Mask Maker skidded to a stop several steps ahead. She, Piruk and Photok did the same as Velika reached up and removed the mask on his face. Without wasting a second the Mask Maker stepped over to her and ripped off the Mask of Time, replacing her own mask back on her face before slamming the Mask of Time onto his. He then wavered in place as the heat slowly began to recede, panting. “Thank you,” she gasped, resting her hands on her knees. “That could have been… disastrous.” As she straightened up, she glanced around. They had neared the southern coastline of the Barren, and had almost certainly left any guards pursuing them far behind. However, they had drawn the attention of a rather large group of Undead and Skull Warriors – one larger than she would have thought possible, after Kulta’s destruction. “That does not look great,” Photok said. “Not at all,” she said, turning to Velika. “Are we in the spot?” The Mask Maker shook his head, looking tired. He pulled a small cube out of his cloak, taking a bite out of it and shuddering with revulsion as he seemed to become re-energized. Without speaking a word, he handed the cube off to Piruk, who warily took a small bite out of the remaining half. “Whoa,” the old Jungle Protector said, his eyes going wide as he shivered. “That has a kick to it.” Piruk tossed the cube to Photok, who also took a bite before tossing the last of it to her. Ehks looked at the cube before finishing it off, bracing herself for whatever vile taste it had. It didn’t seem to have any taste beyond being overwhelmingly bitter, but the real discomfort came a split second later. She felt energy rushing through her, her tired body being revitalized on the spot. “Whatever that stuff is, it’s good,” Photok said, as the Undead and Skull Warriors approached, “but… I think this is still as far as we’re getting.” “It might be,” Ehks agreed, brandishing her spear. “We can’t kill all of them. We can fend them off, but… I don’t know if I could take us back right now. I couldn’t even disable to the mask once I activated it.” As if in response, Velika hunkered down on the ground, the Mask of Time beginning to glow as he concentrated, closing his eyes. “Forward and back,” he said. Ehks nodded. “Everyone, protect Velika, and stay close. We just need to buy ourselves some time. That’s all we need.” Piruk fell back to defend Velika directly – and then the Undead were upon them. Photok cut one down beside her, while two Undead charged in from her left, both swinging swords. She shifted her speak to block both blows before shoving both Undead to the ground – but before she could follow up another two Undead were upon her, shields held in front of them. She swept her spear low to knock them down, but the first two Undead were now back on their feet – and a Skull Warrior loomed over her. She jabbed her spear upwards, toward the Skull Warrior’s head. It caught the Skull Warrior in its eye, but now all four of the Undead were on her, and more were beginning to push in. Photok had become separated, and was doing his best to fight his way back to her; to her left, she could see Piruk rapidly tiring as he fended off several Undead targeting Velika. She tried to push back the four Undead, swiping and stabbing as she fought her way back to Photok. Her spear caught in one of the corpses along the way and she abandoned it as she reached the Stone Protector, leaving her with only her dagger. She brandished it, eyes darting around the horde. “Back to back,” she said. “Let’s move. Piruk needs us.” As she spoke, Photok lost his sword and pulled out his own dagger, moving to stand back to back with her. The Undead rushed in. She swept low, knocking as many Undead to the ground as she could before she thrust her dagger down at each of their heads. One limped forward with her spear in its hands, and she wrestled the weapon out of its grip. Photok let out a pained yell just as she re-gained it. He collapsed against her with a bloody wound in his side, driving his dagger into the head of the Skull Warrior responsible for the wound before yanking it out and stabbing an Undead, swaying in place as blood ran down his side and his leg. Ehks tensed, preparing to help him, but two Skull Warriors now approached her. Oh no. She once more attempted to knock down the Skull Warriors, but her tactics had clearly grown too predictable. Both were unaffected, and one easily disarmed her, snapping her spear like a twig in the process. With her dagger in one hand, she grabbed onto Photok with the other, her heart racing as she dragged him back toward Piruk and Velika as the Undead and Skull Warriors pressed in closer…. Unable to do much else, Ehks brandished her dagger, stabbing any Undead that got close. No easy way to push them back, no way to easily slay the Skull Warriors. All she knew was terror. Utter, total terror. She risked a look back to Velika, hoping against hope that he was almost ready…. “Any time now, Velika!” Piruk yelled, cutting down an Undead nearly upon the Mask Maker before stabbing his sword through another that Photok was trying and failing to kick away. Ehks turned to find herself face to face with the two Skull Warriors. Their swords swung down, and in that last moment, the world seemed to slow- -and then, all around her, the world was replaced with a wall of gray fog. “Oh gods, oh gods,” she muttered, her hands shaking. Through the fog, she watched as the battle they had just fought played out in reverse. She let out a sigh of pure relief. “That… was frighteningly close.” She turned to Photok to investigate his wound; as she did so, the time reversal sped up. First it was minutes going by, then hours, then days, and then weeks, all in the blink of an eye. As she looked over Photok, it quickly became apparent that the Stone Protector would need medical attention as soon as possible. She glanced to Piruk, who had stabbed his sword into the dirt and was now leaning heavily on it, and opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by something else. A voice, hoarse and chilling to the bone, whispered in the wind. “I see you.” A shiver ran down her spine. “Did… did any of you hear that?” Photok was too out of it to notice. But both Piruk and Velika had frozen in fear. “I see your fates….” Ehks slowly turned toward the awful, terrible, all-too-familiar voice, and found herself face to face with gleaming red eyes, and a horrifyingly familiar grinning skull. And then Kulta reached through the fog, and pulled her through. END OF EPISODE TWO. and EPISODE 3 BEGINS NOW!!!

Episode Two “Divided We Fall” (Part II) -The North, Grave’s Peak- -Nato Greavesey- IC: Nato, Krosht Nato had retreated into his office with Kazi to wait out a snowstorm to the north when Krosht and Hahli returned. “Greetings Krosht, Hahli,” he said, as Kazi allowed them to enter the room. “I trust that you were successful in your efforts to inform our allies in the South of our… situation?” “Yes,” Krosht said, bowing his head. “We have established quarantine as you instructed, Khan Nato.” “Excellent news,” Nato said, nodding grimly, suppressing a flicker of frustration as he scratched at his wrist, which had hardened. “I wish my own quest had been as successful as yours. The Knights believe that there is a Mask Maker in the South, and if what Sahmad said was true, then this Mask Maker may hold the key to a cure. Assuming the word of a coward like Metus can be trusted. “Unfortunately,” he continued, “with the quarantine in place, we can’t go looking for this Mask Maker ourselves.” “It may be possible for us to get a message across in some capacity without breaking quarantine,” Krosht grunted. “Difficult, but possible.” “I’ve already informed one of the border patrols and asked them to pass the information over,” Nato said. “All I can do now is trust that they’ll do so, and trust the South to find this Mask Maker for us.” Krosht nodded. “It presents a threat to the whole nation, not just the North.” “Indeed.” “Is there anything else, my lord? My duties cannot be fulfilled until a cure is in effect, aside from ensuring nobody sees this as a sign of weakness on your part.” “I don’t think so,” Nato said wearily, shaking his head. “Until a cure is found, there’s little I can do either. Sahmad is out there doing who knows what, and we’re all stuck here, unable to stop him.” “Of course,” Krosht said, his eyes lighting up. “If I see that man, I will take pleasure in crushing his skull with my own two hands.” “As would I,” Nato admitted, recallin a memory of a rock and a jungle. “But we need answers from him first. In my experience, people like Sahmad never work alone.” Krosht grunted again. “Always. You went to the Knights already? Maybe they have new information.” “I did ask them to scour their records and find out what they could regarding the first Stone Plague, and Sahmad himself,” Nato mused. “Perhaps you’re right, and they have discovered something.” “We should set out then. I will come with you. There is a blizzard on the way.” “I’ll come too,” Kazi said. “Where you go, I go.” “I certainly won’t refuse company,” Nato admitted, turning his attention to the final Protector in the room. “What of you, Hahli?” “I’ll accompany you as well. I can’t return South due to the quarantine, so I’ll do my best to help here in the North as long as I can.” “Excellent,” Nato said, standing and grabbing his cryosteel sword. “Then let us depart.” -Karamu- -Rassilon Oak- IC: Rassilon Once Sahmad had vanished, Rassilon decided to head into the Temple of Time, to see if there was anything he might be able to learn. The streets of Hinterhall, when he stepped out, were in chaos, and despite his best efforts, he was unable to find anyone willing to take a message to Lan, who had apparently been imprisoned for inciting panic. It was in the middle of this conversation that he spotted a small green shape taking to the skies from near the palace. He watched as it flew off into the jungle. Toa Lewa, or the Creature of Jungle? He wondered. Only one way to find out…. As he followed the creature, he overheard chatter that Reyna Saryian and Toa Lewa had slain the Rahkshi. Hinterhall itself was still in chaos, thanks in no small part to the fact that Makani Chloe had apparently done nothing at all since before the attack. But the Makani’s approach to ruling wasn’t Rassilon’s business right now, and as he made it to the outskirts of the city, he saw the creature dive into the trees not too far away. Thank you, Bota, he thought, before frowning. Or Ma? Whatever. Curious to see the Creature of Jungle, and wondering if it had broken free of the Mask of Control’s influence, Rassilon crept further into the jungle. He made sure to stay hidden in the bushes as he made his approach, his armor blending into the landscape, and he had his twin blades at his sides, just in case the encounter turned into a hostile one. After a few moments, he spotted the Creature of Jungle up ahead, perched on the branch of a tree. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out into the open, carefully making his way toward the creature. Its wings shone in the sunlight, brighter than the finest emerald, and he took a moment to appreciate how majestic the creature truly was before speaking. “Hello, Uxar,” he said, keeping his voice soft to avoid frightening the creature, which was now staring down at him, its eyes shining with intelligence once more. “I’m glad to see you free, and back in your element. Don’t be frightened. I want to help Okoto, keep it safe from people like those who controlled you. I’m here as a friend.” He bowed respectfully to the creature. A few seconds later, Uxar fluttered down to a lower branch so that it was eye level with him. Its head tilted curiously, and Rassilon felt a strange sensation, as though someone were brushing their hand gently across his mind. It was a rather surreal experience. Confused, yet certain that this was something of Uxar’s doing, Rassilon spoke again. “I’ve lived a long life, full of other people’s conflicts. Noble Creature of Jungle, I know you are key to stopping the Great War… but I can’t let them control you again.” The feeling in his mind intensified as Uxar’s eyes fixed on his own, almost as if it was searching for something. Rassilong felt the words of Karamu called to his mind; Proud and Free. “I’m not proud of Makani Chloe,” he said. “But I’m trying my best to stop her, and free Karamu from her influence. I know we’re a people to be proud of, and I know we can be proud of ourselves again. I know that we can keep our freedom through peace, not war. Maybe we can’t live up to those words yet… but one day, I know we can.” He had a feeling that Uxar seemed to agree – and then the Creature of Jungle lunged at him, latching onto his back. Rassilon screamed as he felt a terrible, terrible pain… and then everything went black. -Rollor’s Reach, Citadel- -Quad Roka Maran- IC: Quad Roka Quad Roka scowled, his fists clenched at his sides as he stalked through the halls of the Citadel. The Loremasters had found absolutely nothing of use so far; all that they had managed to find was that Ekimu had used his magic to cure the Stone Plague, which had originated from a plant… no new information. They would have to assume that Sahmad had been telling the truth about Stonescale – a worrying thought. On Sahmad himself, there was nothing. Nor was there anything on the Rahkshi; whatever they were, they were from before the Mask Maker Voltex had stepped foot on Okoto, and before the histories that he had recorded. Nothing but dead ends, he thought, scowling. The King won’t be happy… and neither will the Khan. What’s the point of the histories if they don’t contain any of the information we need? “Sir?” He paused, turning to the speaker. “What is it?” “There’s a Protector of Water in your office,” the Knight said, seeming nervous. “They wish to speak with you.” “Take me to them.” The Knight led him to his office, where they bowed before hurrying away. Frowning, Quad Roka stepped inside – and found a Protector in rusted, navy armor waiting. They leaned against the wall, their arms crossed over their chest. “Sahmad, I presume?” Quad Roka asked the stranger, seeing that they met the description of Sahmad that Nato had given him. He entered the room slowly, keeping his distance from the stranger. “I am. The Northern Khan has visited you.” “Northern Khan? Who do you speak of, if I may ask?” “If you’re going to play stupid, I will kill you and find a Knight who has better common sense than to try mind games with a Mask Maker,” Sahmad said, clearly displeased. “Try again.” “I’m not playing mind games,” Quad Roka said. “I just want clarification. But I digress… why have you paid me this visit, Mask Maker?” “You need clarification on who the ruler of the North is?” Sahmad asked, sounding appalled. “Miscommunication can be very dangerous during these times, even if it’s intentional,” Quad Roka said. “I guess you speak of Nato, correct?” He could almost feel the disappointment radiating off the newcomer, as Sahmad simply stared at him. “I’ll ask again,” Quad Roka said, when it became clear that Sahmad would not break the silence. “Why are you here?” “I was here in the hopes that we could come to an arrangement,” Sahmad said, pushing himself off the wall, “but I’m afraid you’re going to have to give me a good reason not to just kill you and take command of the Knights myself. I can’t afford to leave Rollor’s Reach under the control of a fool.” “I don’t make arrangements with beings who start plagues, even if they’re Mask Makers,” Quad Roka said, scowling. “So you can attempt to kill me… or, you can leave the way you came in.” “Perhaps you’d like to know why I started the plague,” Sahmad said, sitting behind Quad Roka’s desk in his chair, and gesturing for the Knight to sit himself in the chair typically reserved for guests. “Please, sit.” Quad Roka felt a pressure around his neck that slowly began to squeeze, as though someone invisible were wrapping their hands around it. “Sure,” he managed, sitting down. The pressure decreased once he was sitting, but he could still feel it there, waiting. Sahmad, strangely, appeared to feel no exertion from the display of magic, even though Quad Roka knew that such finely tuned control should have been beyond a Mask Maker. “Nato dislikes the Mask Makers,” Sahmad said, tapping his fingers on the desk. “Were you alive for the Battle for the Dawn, twenty years ago?” “No.” “You’ve heard of the Mask Makers involved, however,” Sahmad said. “Voltex, Ekimu, Vatten. How they forged the Mask of Life and fought Kulta themselves, so that Onaku Greavesey could use the mask to destroy Kulta and save the day.” “I’ve heard, yes.” “Nato did his best to avoid assisting them in this task,” Sahmad said. “He fought them every inch of the way, and when the time came to fight Kulta, he instead fled back to his own region. He claims it was to prevent the North’s destruction, but his battle ended long before the battle with Kulta. He allowed his dislike of the Mask Makers to nearly doom Okoto; I could not risk the same thing happening to me, and so I decided on an easier route… to remove him from the equation entirely.” Sahmad leaned forward. “The only problem is that for the past thirty years, Nato’s actions haven’t just shaped the North – they have shaped all of Okoto. Short of simply killing him, I needed something big. Something truly challenging, to remove him from play until he could not stop me. Hence the plague. If Nato fails, I will share the cure to it myself… but I am hoping he will instead be able to pull Onaku Greavesey back into the fold.” “A dangerous method to get the results you seek,” Quad Roka said after a moment. “How long do you plan to wait? Because the longer it’s active, the more Protectors will suffer from it.” “They have weeks,” Sahmad said. “They will survive until the cure is given.” “Okay,” Quad Roka said. “So… where do we go from here?” “As I recall, you have yet to give me any reason to leave you alive,” Sahmad said, leaning back in his chair as the pressure began to increase around Quad Roka’s throat once more – though not so much that he could not speak, not yet. “My death would only inspire my fellow Knights to rally against you. Especially the one I truly serve.” Sahmad laughed. “Vinheim already sees me as the enemy, and I’m sure your fellow Knights will be very happy to hear that I prevented his spy from continuing to leak their secrets.” “Then I guess we’re done here,” Quad Roka croaked. “Do what you came here to do or get out. I won’t beg.” Sahmad stared at him impassively for several seconds, during which, despite himself, Quad Roka slowly felt his panic mounting at his inability to breathe. Before he could slip and reveal his fear, however, the Mask Maker smirked. “You know what? I have a better idea.” Sahmad lunged forward, grabbing Quad Roka’s arm – and then the room around them faded to black, before the Knight found himself toppling to the ground in the middle of a desolate wasteland. The pressure around his throat vanished. “What… in the name of…” he managed, coughing hoarsely. “Welcome to the Barren,” Sahmad said, opening his arms. Crud. “I want you to remember that I was willing to work out an arrangement with you, one where we could have both suggested our own terms,” Sahmad said, looking down upon him, deadly serious. “And I want you to remember that you live because I have decided to let you.” He turned away, pointing in a direction that Quad Roka thought might be south. “You should be able to find the Brotherhood of Ata in that direction,” Sahmad said. “I’m not suggesting you join them, but I am suggesting you at least meet with them. They’ll be less than a day’s journey, the closest possible civilization. If you don’t stay with them, there are some who remain sane among them who can at least point you in the right direction.” Without another word, Sahmad disappeared. Still wondering how the Mask Maker had the ability to teleport such great distances with ease, Quad Roka slowly stood. A quick scan of the land around him revealed no distinguishing landmarks; the Barren was aptly named. As much as I hate to take advice from him… I don’t have any other choice, he thought to himself. If Sahmad truly wanted me dead, I would be. He took his first step south. -The South- -Reisen Tyde- IC: Reisen Soon enough they came upon a skirmish with thirty strange, black clad beings, all almost the size of Toa, fighting eighteen of Reisen’s Protectors. Seven other Protectors already lay dead. Some of the beings noticed their arrival and turned to face them; three raised strange weapons at the group and fired, harpoons flying forward and impaling three of Reisen’s men. “Send up another flare!” Reisen barked at one of his sailors, as he and the rest sprinted toward the marauders. As he got closer, he was able to make out more details of the beings. They weren’t all of the same species; some had digitigrade legs, some had multiple arms or legs, and other seemed rather insectoid, even sporting wings. All were clad in black armor, though many had different hues visible underneath. As a flare shot into the sky, one of the scouts fell back as three soldiers took her place, and she ran over, clearly agitated. “Commander! There were more with this group, but they went further southwest! They had prisoners!” “Take another soldier and head south,” Reisen ordered. “Flag down one of our ships, tell them to position themselves along the coast southwest of here, keeping a lookout for the group.” Without waiting for a response, he continued his charge. The marauders were clearly skilled in battle, and he watched five more of his men get cut down. The largest of the group, a bipedal two armed being, picked up two soldiers and smashed their heads together. Another Protector stabbed at the being’s abdomen, but the being barely seemed fazed, dropping the two dead soldiers and clapping his hands on his assailant’s head, crushing it. A wicked smile twisted onto the being’s features as he met Reisen’s gaze. “Is this the best your pathetic island has to offer?” he asked, a strange accent to his deep booming voice. Reisen approached, his sword drawn. “Not quite.” The being’s smile widened. “Ah, perhaps I won’t be disappointed today. Unlikely, but we shall see!” The being raised a fist and swung it with alarming speed. Reisen dodged out of the way and slashed at the outstretched limb. He managed to cut almost halfway through the being’s lower bicep, although as he withdrew his sword, it became clear that the being’s armor did not treat the weapon well. The being roared in pain and spat words Reisen didn’t understand. Now, faster than before, it ducked down and went for a sweeping kick at his feet. Reisen cursed as he was knocked down, and he rolled away as the being tried to stomp on his head, pulling a signal flare from his belt and firing it at the being’s face. The flare struck true, setting the being’s face on fire. He roared loudly, slapping at his face in an attempt to put out the fire. Reisen sprung to his feet and bounded behind the being, planting his feet and using the intact edge of his blade to cleave through the back of one of the being’s knees. The being collapsed back on himself, roaring in even more pain than before, spouting curses in a foreign language. Leaving his ruined sword in the being’s knee, Reisen drew a combat knife and brought it down on the being’s skull – but the being brought one hand up to block the dagger, the blade burying deep into his palm. The being closed his hand around Reisen’s, though he could not grip tightly enough to crush it. “You think you can stand against the Dark Hunters?! Even if you kill me, it will not end here!” the being finally removed the flare from his face. His features were mangled, one of his eyes entirely gone. Reisen jammed a finger into the being’s remaining eye before wrenching his knife free and stabbing it down. The figure went limp as the blade entered his skull, and Reisen rose, breathing heavily. Spotting a sword sheathed at the being’s waist, Reisen pulled it free before turning his attention to the battlefield. Spotting a fallen harpoon gun, he dropped the sword in favor of the harpoon gun, grunting at its weight. He fired at one of the marauders, and the harpoon shot across the battlefield to impale its target in the shoulder – before yanking Reisen with it. He dove to the side, releasing the gun, as the soldiers fighting the marauder managed to slice it down. The rest of the marauders, having witnessed two of their number felled, clearly had second thoughts. Several fled, and one surrendered; the rest, now both outnumbered and overpowered, were quickly slain. “Take the prisoner back to camp,” Reisen ordered, signalling to five of the soldiers. “The rest of you with me. Let’s catch the rest.” They continued southwest, finding a gently sloped elevation that dominated the southwestern-most part of the horizon. Reuniting with the other scouting parties, Reisen led the way to the top of the elevation, where they spotted the other nine men-of-war in a heavy firefight with a massive black warship. “Commander Reisen. Your order?” “Get back to the ship,” Reisen said. “I have a plan.” - He woke up with a start. The first thing Reisen noticed as he gathered his surroundings was a large humanoid individual standing over him. Flashes of how he’d gotten here swirled in his mind, but Reisen found himself unable to concentrate on them enough to determine what, exactly, had gone awry – only that the plan had failed. The next thing he noticed was his lack of weaponry and gear. A bad situation gets worse, he thought. The third thing he noticed was that he was in the brig of a ship. Judging by everything else, he assumed it was the brig of the warship that he’d seen before. The being standing over him, albeit with the bars of a cell between them, smirked as it noticed him waking up. “How is our guest feeling today?” it asked, its voice slick and chilling to the bone. Reisen stared wordlessly at the being, his hatred apparent on his face. The being simply stood there, waiting for an answer. “I killed about twenty of your friends,” Reisen finally said. The being simply laughed. “Yes, and I’m sure you’re quite proud. I, meanwhile, sank three of your ships and sent all aboard them to the ocean abyss. So… you can see that trying to boast how many of my men you’ve killed is ineffective.” The being leaned closer, a sinister grin on their lips. “Now, I’ve disabled the rest of your ships, so don’t expect any to come to your rescue. In light of this victory, I’ve scheduled a celebratory feast for my crew this evening… and you, my dear captive, will be the guest of honor.” -Kamuk, Fort Patrus- -Anuhea Petros- IC: Anuhea, Virndrung (Until Exit), Quin (Entrance) Feeling somewhat lost after the departure of the Knights and Velika, Anuhea made his way to the gates of Fort Patrus with Nilkuu at his side. There, he found Virndrung Vatten – the infamous son of Pulse Vatten, who now served the Brotherhood of Ata – awaiting entrance into the city. “What is this ‘problem’ that my guards have mentioned, Vatten?” he asked, staring down at the Protector of Water. “I was sent here to offer King Vinheim Maran an offer of assistance,” Virndrung replied. “The Brotherhood would assist Kamuk, and Kamuk would assist us. Only, to my surprise… he rejected our offer. Thus, Lord Anuhea, I find myself seeking you. As I understand it, you oppose Vinheim, do you not?” “I do.” “Then Lord Anuhea Petros of Kamuk, I extend to you the same offer that Vinheim rejected: the Brotherhood will lend you its assistance, and you in turn will aid us.” “I am not fond of the Brotherhood, nor is it likely that I will accept your offer,” Anuhea said, sharing a glance with Nilkuu. “That said… you may enter, and I will hear you out. But you will be accompanied by guards at all times. Do you understand?” The Protector of Water nodded. “I understand.” Anuhea and Nilkuu made their way down with two guards as the gate opened – and, much to his surprise, he found that Virndrung had been joined by none other than General Quin Galum and another Stone Protector. The General had the Torch of Ma in hand, and Anuhea could feel its divine energies crackling in the air. “On second thought, I think I should be leaving,” Virndrung said, eyeing the Torch worriedly. “If you already know that you will refuse my offer, then a proper meeting is pointless.” With a hurried bow, Virndrung retreated into the desert. Anuhea watched him go in silence until the Protector of Water was out of sight before finally turning back to Quin. “Hello there, General Quin. What brings you to Fort Patrus?” “Many things, my lord,” Quin said, sharing a look with his companion, who nodded. “I understand that you’re attempting to run against Vinheim Maran?” “That is correct.” “You won’t win,” the General said, looking worried and breathing heavier. “That’s most likely, yes,” Anuhea admitted. “But that won’t deter me. I’ll run regardless.” Quin nodded. “I can’t stay here long. I was told that Velika is around here?” “I’m surprised you know of him,” Anuhea said, sharing a startled glance with Nilkuu. “He was here, but he departed a little while ago.” Quin paused. “Where to?” “I’m not entirely sure myself,” Anuhea said. “He’s… difficult to understand, at best. But I believe he was headed for the Barren.” “I see,” Quin said, starting to look pained as he considered the Torch. “My lord… how determined are you to beat Vinheim?” “I would do anything,” Anuhea said, resisting the urge to clench his fists. “I will reclaim the rightful place of House Petros.” Quin looked at his companion for a long moment before looking back at Anuhea and nodding. “Then I have something you’ll need.” Quin seemed tense, and soon, Anuhea started to realize why. The General’s armor – no, Quin himself – was beginning to smoke. “Are you alright? You appear to be… smoldering…?” “I… I don’t know,” Quin said, close to hyperventilating as he tossed the Torch of Ma to the sand – though it didn’t appear to help at all. “Take it. Take the Torch. Hide it. Vinheim can’t find it, or use it. If the time comes… use it. Protect yourself.” Although he didn’t really understand, Anuhea nodded. He stepped forward and leaned down, picking up the Torch. He gasped upon contact, immediately feeling energized like he never had before. It was as though energy was literally flooding his limbs; Quin, meanwhile, had ceased smoking. “Hide it, and quickly,” Quin said. “It energizes you, but it’ll harm you if you don’t hide it away soon.” “Then it’s goodbye for now,” Anuhea said, turning back to the city. “I have a Torch to hide.” -The Barren- -Urot Coal- IC: Urot, Gikayok, Virndrung (After Battle) “Father Urot.” He startled, turning to Gikayok Shayd. “What?!” “The Vorahk, Father. Should we try and starve it?” He scoffed. “Starving the creature would only make it more aggressive. Luroka’s force, while ridiculously undermanned, will be enough to keep its attention away from us for now.” “Of course.” He snapped his fingers. “You should be in Karamu, Brother Gikayok. “That hag, Makani Chloe, is her own worst enemy. We will use the people’s fear of her, and turn them against one another.” “As you wish, Father. But I am no silver tongue. By what means do you believe I can take to form discourse against her?” Urot scowled. “Unbelievable. What am I, made of wisdom?! Bring me the Prophet. Perhaps she has the answer.” Without waiting for Gikayok to inevitably fail to find the prophet, Urot stood to search for her himself. He found the Prophet, as usual, perched upon a leaning rock spire just beyond the camp, overlooking the Barren. She seemed deep in thought. “Do you see anything?” Urot called. The Prophet seemed, for a brief moment, to have not heard him – or, more likely, to simply be ignoring him. Then, slowly, she turned her head, looking upon him from atop the spire. With one hand she gestured for him to climb up and join her. “The things I put up with for the apocalypse,” Urot grumbled, clambering up the spire to sit beside her. “I see a great many things, Father Urot,” the Prophet said once he was seated. “Though I doubt that is why you have come up here. What is on your mind?” “Anger. Frustration. Disbelief. Why must you come up here all the time?” “This is a peaceful place,” the Prophet said. “A quiet spot for me to focus upon the voice of the one who guides us.” “Have they told you anything of Karamu?” “No… I have heard little of Jungle or Fire, or indeed any region. The voice of Ata is scarce upon my ears now, but they still wait. Watching. Guiding us, though we might not know it.” The Prophet turned and looked directly at him. “I can see them in you, Father. There is a reason you are the one to lead us.” She placed a hand upon his head, her thumb resting on his forehead. “You may not hear them, but Ata is always there, guiding you. Believe in the wrath of the destroyer, Father. Believe in our dark destiny. Know that it is just. And above all else, believe in your hate, for that hatred is Ata’s gift to you. That hatred is Ata.” Finally, she removed her hand from his head, and returned to gazing across the Barren. “Have no fear. Ata’s voice will return to me soon; this I know.” Unsettled – and angry – he left without a word, deciding to practice using the Mask of Fire. - The Mask of Fire did nothing, despite his best efforts. “Useless hunk of metal!” he spat. “If it wasn’t for the Pyromancers I would have thrown you back to Fire years ago! Not even a spark!” One of the many Brothers – no doubt drawn by his shouting – approached. “Father?” “It seems that the mask’s power was drained by the Magical Crisis,” he said, making up the fact on the spot. “I think that you might understand my fury, all things considered.” The other Protector opened their mouth to reply – only for an arrow to lodge itself through their head, having flown over Urot’s shoulder. He turned to see a band of Undead shambling toward the Brotherhood camp, all of them wearing rusted and battered armor identifying them as Protectors of Earth. One held a bow that appeared to be in remarkably functional condition, and it slowly reached for another arrow. Wonderful. “Grab your weapons!” He yelled. “We’re under attack!” Soon enough, he and his men had managed to cut down the Undead, with only nine casualties – though with the Brotherhood somewhat scattered as it was, even nine missing bodies left a notable gap. As usual, Virndrung returned soon after the action had concluded. The Protector of Water eyed the scattered corpses with an air of distaste as he approached Urot. “Father, I have returned. Kamuk has rejected our offer of support… as least, publicly.” “Explain,” he said, scowling. “King Vinheim offered his support in private,” Virndrung elaborated. “In secret.” “Of course it’s secret if it isn’t public! What’s wrong with you?!” “He still accepted, Father. This is good news.” Urot scoffed. “Whatever. Next time don’t word your news in a way that invites me to hang you with your own entrails. We were just attacked by some of the Undead, so we’re moving north.” Virndrung inclined his head. “I have no objections, Father.” “Good, because I didn’t ask for them. We leave at once – pack everything.” -Karamu, Hinterhall- -Reyna Saryian- IC: Reyna, Lan, Tekulo Reyna closed her eyes tightly for a moment to try and regain her composure, and then snapped them open as she dashed off after the Rahkshi. She and her remaining guards passed by the Purple Oasis – which had now been abandoned – and spotted Lerahk on the next street. She ran closer, trying to get its attention. “Hey Slug Face!” she called. “You’re going to answer for what you did!” Lerahk turned at the sound of her voice – and then, on a rooftop behind it, she saw a familiar figure wearing the Mask of Control. Oh no. She pointed the crossbow at Lerahk with a grim look on her face. “What are you waiting for?” Lerahk moved to lunge at her – only to be yanked back as several vines wrapped around its arms and legs. Toa Lewa stepped out onto the street, his eyes still strangely blank. He was, curiously, back to his old form, from before he had united with the Creature of Jungle. Reyna glanced back up to the roof. The figure had not moved, though they seemed fixated on Lerahk and Lewa. Lerahk, meanwhile, had snapped two of the vines, and now swung its staff at Lewa, who ducked. Biting her lip, Reyna kept the crossbow pointed at Lerahk, trying to wait for the opportunity to freeze it again. A vine ripped away Lerahk’s staff, and the Rahkshi opened its faceplate to screech at Lewa. Without hesitating, she fired. The crossbow immediately fell apart in her hands, but it worked – the bolt of time energy flew until it struck Lerahk, who froze. “Now!” she yelled. “That’s it’s weak point!” Lewa reached in and grabbed the slug-like creature, ripping it out of what was a mere suit of armor. The Toa’s hand turned black upon contact with the creature. Reyna’s guards raced forward, each chopping down with their swords and slicing the creature into three pieces as it hit the pavement. As soon as the creature died, its armor began to rust and flake away in the breeze as the time freeze failed. Reyna glanced back up at the figure on the roof, only to find that they had vanished – and when she turned her attention back to the street, Lewa was gone too. What the…? She frowned. “Where did Lewa go?” “He just left,” one of the guards said, sounding as confused as she felt. “Not sure why. Or where.” Something felt off about the whole situation. “Let’s get back to the palace,” she said. How was he back in his original form? She thought as they made their way to the palace. Why did mother step in? - When they arrived, they found the palace oddly silent… and suspiciously empty. “Be on your guard,” Reyna said, drawing her sword as the three Protectors with her did the same. “I don’t like the look of this…” They progressed through the halls of the palace cautiously but quickly, and soon, surprisingly, came across Lan Lasang, Diplomat of Karamu. “Lan?” Reyna asked, startled. “What’s going on?” “I have no idea,” the Diplomat said, scowling. “I’ve been in a cell for the past… who knows how long.” “How did you get out? And what did you do? I only heard vague mentions from Nidhiki before…” she trailed off and closed her eyes, pushing the memory of Tanma’s horrified face out of her mind. “Nevermind. Let’s go. Something really doesn’t feel right here.” With Lan in tow, she made her way as quickly as she could to the throne room. Its doors were shut once more, but both of its guards were slumped on the floor. Each now sat in a puddle of their own blood, their throats slit open. Her heart racing, Reyna pushed the doors open, avoiding the two guards. She immediately spotted her mother. Makani Chloe was seated in her throne, staring at them down the hall. Toa Lewa was nowhere to be seen, and the Mask of Control sat on the floor before the throne. Reyna cautiously stepped forward. “Mother?” The Makani did not respond. Gripping her sword tightly, she walked toward the Mask of Control, and toward Chloe. As she neared them, she noticed something… off about the mask, and about Chloe. Ignoring the mask for the moment, Reyna reached out and poked her mother. Chloe didn’t react at all… except for her head to fall off her torso. Reyna shrieked as she recoiled, her gaze snapping away from the corpse in the throne and the head now resting in its lap. Swallowing thickly, and trembling, she retreated and knelt by the Mask of Control. As she did so, she accidentally nudged the mask – which was enough for the Mask of Control to split into two pieces. Someone had killed her mother. Someone had broken the Mask of Control, so that it could never be used again. A chill ran down her spine, and suddenly, Reyna found herself wondering if it had really been her mother who had just helped her to slay Lerahk… or the killer. She shakily pushed herself to her feet, her thoughts scattered, as she looked to Lan. Lan simply stared at the headless body of her mother, and in that moment, she watched as the Diplomat’s sullenness vanished, replaced with something resembling joy. Reyna closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. So much death. “We need to find out who did this,” she said, opening her eyes again. “We need to know their motives, and where Rassilon has vanished to. Lan, will you help me?” “Yeah, sure,” Lan said distractedly, still staring at the body of her mother. She shared an uneasy glance with one of the guards. “Um… I know this is a big moment, but… could you not stare? Please?” Lan shook his head, turning to her. “Of course, sorry. Where do we look first?” “We need to get our allies together, and more soldiers,” Reyna said. “We don’t know when the killer might strike again, and we need to search for them.” - They exited the palace with the three guards to find both Tekulo and Nidhiki waiting just outside the entrance, along with a few other miscellaneous civilians; all of them looked rather worse for wear. In the distance, Reyna could hear something that sounded suspiciously similar to a riot in the streets, but she was distracted by a flood of relief at the sight of her two friends. “Nidhiki?! You’re alive?” “Reyna!” Nidhiki lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing before leaning back. “Gods, I thought you were doomed! What happened?!” “I thought you…” She trailed off and took a deep breath before continuing. “Tanma pushed me out of the way, but… well. I couldn’t see you after that; I followed Lerahk, and Lewa and I killed it using the crossbow.” She turned away. “I came back here after. I just found my mother…” her voice wavered. “Well. We won’t be worrying about her dooming Karamu anymore.” Nidhiki stepped back, frowning. “Wait, what do you mean?” “She’s dead. Her guards too. The Mask of Control is broken.” “What?” She nodded. “Any sign of Rassilon?” She shook her head. Nidhiki grimaced, shaking his head. “So the Makani is dead, the Mask of Control is destroyed, both Lewa and our Loremaster are missing….” “We don’t know who killed her,” Reyna whispered. “I thought I saw her, during the fight with Lerahk, but….” “That’s unlike her,” Nidhiki muttered, before seeming to shake it off. “First things first, before we move any further – we need to control the situation. Hinterhall is in chaos; the population needs to be calmed, and repairs need to begin. Our army is still mobilizing, unless Rassilon convinced Chloe to call them off before she died. Somebody needs to take command. He turned to Lan, looking uncertain. “Lan, Chloe took over almost every typical governing position except for yours. It would make sense to place Karamu under your command…” “I can try,” Reyna said. “I feel like it would be expected.” “Officially, you’re only a civilian yourself,” Nidhiki said, though she noticed that he hadn’t disagreed. One of the civilians, however, did. “Diplomat Lan should take command! He knows how to rule!” “And you believe that I do not?” Reyna asked. “My mother beat the basics of ruling into my head. If our Diplomat takes over, we lose out on diplomacy. Placing me in charge would help us keep our country strong.” One of the guards that had slain Lerahk with her nodded, glaring at Lan. “Yeah. How do we know he didn’t kill the Makani, anyway?” “Personally, I’m in favor of Reyna taking command,” Tekulo said quietly. “Lady Reyna,” one of the other guards murmured, looking uneasily at Nidhiki, Lan and Tekulo. “I really do hate to point this out… but for all we know, any of these three could have killed the Makani.” She stayed silent for a moment, before nodding. “I want everyone’s stories on what happened. Make it quick.” Nidhiki spoke up first. “I got separated from you when we attacked Lerahk. Ended up in the building across the street with acid bringing down the walls, had to go around the back trying to return to you. By the time I did, you and the Rahkshi were gone. I hoped I could find you here, and ran into Tekulo along the way.” A quick glance at Tekulo was enough to corroborate it. “Before I bumped into Nidhiki I was headed deeper into the city,” Tekulo told her. “The Rahkshi was getting close to Purple Oasis, so I was a bit antsy.” Reyna nodded as she took the information in, considering it, before she turned back to Lan. “You were locked up, if I recall. How did you get out?” “Somebody came by while I was sleeping, killed the guards, and left my cell door open.” Everybody froze, and Reyna looked at Lan incredulously. “Do explain more. Including why you decided not to mention this before now.” “I can’t explain more,” Lan said, back to being sullen. “I just said, I was sleeping. I didn’t see what happened.” Reyna sighed, very audibly. “We’re not going to get anywhere like this. Nidhiki, Tekulo, how do you think the Makani was killed?” Nidhiki shrugged. “The Rahkshi attack would have been about as good a distraction as the killer could hope for. I can’t make any guesses to the kill method without seeing the body.” “I don’t like to make rash decisions,” Reyna said slowly, mindful of the look on Lan’s face when he’d seen the Makani earlier. “Something is off about this whole situation. Lan, if you would remain in your cell for now….” “No. I’m not going back in that cell,” Lan said. “I want to do something with my life.” “Does that something include killing the Makani?” Nidhiki asked quietly, looking disturbed. “No. I’m not that crazy.” Reyna sighed. It was a poor idea, but she lacked the authority to force Nidhiki, Lan, or Tekulo to do anything. Her best shot was to keep them close. “We should search for Rassilon, get his take on things.” “Then I’d suggest we start at Arcadia,” Lan said. “It’s where he resides. We might find some clues there.” "That sounds like a great idea," Nidhiki drawled. "Let's just all of us, the primary suspects for this murder, leave Hinterhall to hunt down the Loremaster. That won't go wrong in a thousand different ways at all." Continued in Part III.

Episode Two “Divided We Fall” (Part I) -The North- -Rilgivi Nivis- IC: Rilgivi Rilgivi had led twelve hundred soldiers in search of the Rahkshi Kurahk. The blistering winds and the blinding snow they carried had made the search difficult, and even for the Protectors of Ice, the thick layer of snow under their feet slowed their pace significantly. The storm they were in the middle of was turning out to be a particularly bad one, and frustration was mounting. “Hey! Stop pushing me!” she suddenly heard someone shout behind her. As the sounds of aggression began to spread throughout the soldiers, Rilgivi smiled slyly. “Halt our march!” She commanded. “We are discontent, frustrated, and angry. Soldiers, the creature we hunt endangers us all – it wants us to be angry. It wants you to take your rage out on each other. I say, all the better! That anger, that discontent, can be weaponised into fury! Fury that we shall use against the Rahkshi. The Rahkshi controls anger, but it has made the last mistake it will ever make, for what weapon is greater than the fury of a united army? Weaponize your anger, weaponize your discontent! Turn it against the Rahkshi, and make it regret messing with the army of the North!” The snow storm continued to hinder her sight as she tried to search for any signs of Kurahk. Following her speech several of the soldiers cheered, though from most she heard only unenthusiastic murmurs of agreement. “Stalk our prey!” she called. “Keep watch on all sides! We will tear this creature limb from limb, delight in its blood, and show that we are not ones to be messed with!” Rilgivi herself was struggling to contain her own frustrations. Anger at the Khan for infecting the North, at the one responsible for the plague, and with her own failed search thus far continued to mount, and with each passing second it became harder to resist. The struggle was so natural, and so gradual, that Rilgivi found herself uncertain; was the source truly external, or was her inner resentment spilling forth? Despite her words of warning, as the army continued to march, tensions continued to rise. She turned just in time to witness two of her soldiers begin fighting. “If you cannot act like soldiers, leave,” she said, as four other soldiers stepped in to pull the fighters apart. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but her fury was too great; she was barely resisting the urge to punch them both herself. “When we return to Grave’s Peak, you will both be punished appropriately.” “That’s right, keep it together!” a soldier further back yelled. “Shut up, you ain’t the commander!” another called. “Both of you cool it!” “Don’t tell me what to do!” Soon enough, the entire group had devolved into bickering. The two soldiers who had been fighting before were now brawling, egged on by a few bystanders. Insubordinate, Rilgivi fumed, her fists clenched at her sides. Pathetic! They aren’t even bothering to listen to me! How am I supposed to keep these animals in check?! The fighting spread like wildfire. What had been a disciplined force only minutes before had now devolved into a riot. “Enough!” Rilgivi yelled. “Enough of this pettiness, you undisciplined curs! Are you unfit for life outside a cage? Stand down! I will personally execute the soldier who started this mess, and any who continue to participate!” Without waiting for any of the soldiers to obey, driven by the adrenaline racing through her and the blood pumping in her veins, Rilgivi drew her sword and stepped toward the two soldiers who had started the fighting. With one clean stroke, she beheaded first one, and then the other, feeling a rush of euphoria as she did so. It felt good to deal out justice like this, to act on her fury. Suddenly, another soldier knocked her down into the snow. As he lay there on top of her, practically foaming at the mouth, he raised a fist to punch her only to receive a sword through the head from another soldier. As she shoved the corpse away, her saviour turned away, swinging his sword at his next target. All around her, the snow was running red with blood. Words are wasted on these mongrels, Rilgivi realized, barely able to even think around the cloud of rage that had consumed her mind. I must kill the insubordinates, and all who defy my command! First them, then Khan Nato, and then the rest of the island! Every last Protector who does not bow, who does not follow command! I will crush the disease, right here, right now! Without a second thought, Rilgivi began killing her own soldiers. Each stroke of the blade felt righteous, every dead or dying soldier in her wake a testament to her new vow. She made no exceptions, not even for those soldiers she stumbled across who seemed to cower rather than fight. They had to be punished as well. They must all be punished, they will all question my commands some day. Kill them all! Kill them all! KILL THEM ALL! - She found herself standing in the icy tundra of the North. The once snowy ground around her was littered with the brutalised corpses of her men, soaked red and brown the blood and muck. The blade of her sword was caked with blood, and her armor was the same. As she caught her breath, she saw a handful of other soldiers standing among the corpses. They all looked the same as she felt; confused, numb, exhausted, and filthy. With the snow storm finally faltering, she noticed something else in the distance – a humanoid serpentine being with bulky armor, white and covered in spikes. It carried over its shoulder a long staff with ornate spear heads on either end, and was leisurely approaching them. She pointed at the creature, arm shaking. “That thing. It’s approaching….” Her surviving soldiers slowly made their way to her, warily glancing behind them at the approaching Rahkshi. One of the survivors was unfortunate, having been at the edge of the massacre closest to the approaching monster – and before they could even begin to escape, Kurahk’s staff pierced through their chest. Not slowed by the merciless kill, the Rahkshi removed its staff and continued its unwavering advance. One of her soldiers, still looking over their shoulder at the approaching enemy, finally reached Rilgivi, a numb look of exhaustion and despair on her face. “G-general… we can’t fight it… we’re too few. Too spent. Wh-what do we do?” Rilgivi shook her head. “We… we draw it to where its attention doesn’t go unnoticed. Run to Grave’s Peak, gather any support we run into. Issue an emergency… hopefully the creature doesn’t feel empowered.” “We can’t take it to Grave’s Peak,” the soldier – whom Rilgivi now recognized as Macku Greavesey, who had been one of the more notable recent recruits – protested. “There are thousands of people there! If it does to them what it did to us… think of what would happen!” “She’s right,” another soldier said quietly. Macku, now shaking, looked back at the still advancing Rahkshi before turning to her. “I think we need to lose it. Either that, or… we need to find something worse.” The rest of the survivors – only thirteen in total, Rilgivi noticed – made their way over. They now all looked to her for guidance, some still glancing worryingly back at Kurahk. “Then we find something worse,” Rilgivi decided. “The strange weather and Kopaka were both most recently sighted south. We find one of them.” The Kurahk was very close now – close enough that, should it wish to close the gap and kill them all now, she knew it could. Without another word, Rilgivi turned to run, her soldiers following behind – though ‘running’ would be an overstatement. With the condition they were in, it was nothing more than the Kurahk’s malicious grace that allowed them to stay ahead of it, as it continued to advance. It was nothing, if not patient. -The South, Burned Harbor- -Pythia Rayne- IC: Pythia Pythia sat in a local bar on the outskirts of Burned Harbor, scanning the room. She had been there for about an hour already. Emptying her latest drink, she decided to ask the bartender a few questions while waiting for her refill. Hopefully she could find a lead to Handric Sayle – and the origins of the magical talismans she had been tracking – soon. The bartender was wiping the counter with a tattered cloth as she approached. He looked at her once before finishing up the counter and bending down behind it, before standing straight again and setting an empty glass on the counter. “What’ll it be?” “Something strong.” She waited for the bartender to pour her drink before asking, “maybe you can help me find someone in town?” “Who’re ya lookin’ for?” The smell alone from the drink that the bartender had poured her had Pythia resisting the urge to cough. She briefly wondered if Terrorsaur would consider it too strong. Probably not. “I’m looking for Handric Sayle,” she said. The bartender’s expression became grim. “Aye, I’ve heard o’ him. And met him. Why’re ya lookin’ for him?” Pythia took the tiniest sip and regretted it immediately, grimacing as she forced herself to swallow. She set the disquieting liquor down before taking a broken amulet out of her pocket and setting it on the bar. “I was told he might know whoever is responsible for these,” she said. “I was given this one by a mother who lost her son to its magics. I’m here to stop it from happening again.” The bartender’s expression softened. “Talkin’ to Miss Rafte, have ye? Aye, terrible, what happened to her son. I’d recommend the trader’s route west of here. That’s where that soft gut merchant always travels.” “Thank you sir.” She paid for the drink and swiped the broken amulet back into her pocket before exiting the bar. It didn’t take her long to find the route outside of town, nor did it take her much longer to find someone walking the road, escorted by two burly mercenary types. They pulled a beast of burden behind them, carrying supplies and other wares. Pythia shifted her cloak to hide her sword from view, before walking up to them. “Hello, merchant. Do you happen to have anything worth giving as a gift? I’m headed to a family reunion, and forgot to purchase something in town.” “A gift, you say? Well, I do happen to be selling some beautiful trinkets,” the merchant said. “Made from the finest materials straight from Last Rest. Gemstones, metals. Here, I’ll show you one.” The merchant pulled a small box out of one of the bags and opened it to reveal… an ornamental paper weight. It was crafted from fine silver metal with gilded edges, holding three beautiful azure gems… but it wasn’t a talisman. “What do you think?” the merchant asked. “That is quite beautiful,” Pythia admitted, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the talisman. “But I was looking for something similar to this.” The merchant visibly paled, clearly recognizing the amulet, and Pythia realized this must be Handric Sayle. “Wh’where did you get that?!” “A grieving mother gave it to me. It caused her son Amlynn grievous injuries. How is it that a necklace could do such a thing?” “Look, lady, I don’t want no trouble,” Handric said, holding his hands out beseechingly. “I didn’t know they could be dangerous, alright? I swear! Guys, back me up here!” The two mercenaries now stepped forward, raising their arms. “I’ve already lost business in Burned Harbor thanks to these dammed talismans,” Handric said. “I don’t want anything to do with them anymore. Whatever happened to Amlynn or anyone else, I truly am sorry. I had no idea the amulets would do what they did.” “I need more than that,” Pythia said. The merchant sighed. “Listen, there’s a boat back in Burned Harbor that belongs to fishermen from Oarsong Island. It’s a small fishing settlement just off the coast. They’re the ones who got me on track to that godawful drunk. Ask them about it!” A drunkard on Oarsong Island is responsible? Sounds like Terrorsaur’s kind of person, Pythia thought. She slid the talisman back into her pocket, turning back to Burned Harbor. “Thank you, sir. You’ve been a great help.” -The Barren- -Luroka Qendroj- IC: Luroka, Unit (After Entrance) They had left Captain Garan in command of Qendroj City. With the looming threat of the Rahkshi Vorahk still present, Luroka didn’t wish to risk anything. The Rahkshi had been content to wander the Barren so far, but there was no knowing how long that would last… and, with his scouting party having never returned, they no longer had eyes on its location. So, with Onua and twenty Protectors in tow (four of his own Earth Protectors, and sixteen of the loaned Fire Protectors), Luroka entered the Barren. Unfortunately, it didn’t take them very long to find the beginning of Vorahk’s trail. It was less than an hour before they discovered what was left of the scouting party – or rather, the shrivelled husks that used to be the scouting party. “Everyone, be alert,” Luroka said, crouching next to one of the husks. “We’re dealing with a dangerous hunter.” “Look at them,” one of the Fire Protectors said, sounding horrified. “What the heck does this thing do?” “I doubt it’s pleasant, which is why we need to deal with it,” Luroka said grimly. Onua nudged one of the husks with his foot. “It looks like it absorbed them somehow,” the Toa said. “Be on your guard. If you begin feeling tired, warn us all immediately. I’ve heard reports that the Rahkshi roaming Aodhiim emits an aura of fear around itself – it’s possible that this Rahkshi does something similar.” Luroka clutched his staff tighter. It was made of sturdy oak carved into an intricate design, reinforced with a steel that he suspected was of magical origins. “I reckon you’re right.” “Check it out,” one of the others called from up ahead. “There’s a trail leading southeast. Dead plants and animals. Looks like they’re all husks too.” “Then we have a path to follow,” Luroka said, standing. “Let’s proceed.” - It took them two days of following the trail to reach the Western Wall. They could hear the city of Valmai from the other side, and despite his hesitation, Luroka knew they required assistance. They set up camp just outside the gate to the city, and a messenger was sent to inform Captain Narmoto of their request. It took several hours – during which they took the opportunity to rest and eat – before the gate opened to reveal Captain Narmoto – and, surprisingly, General Unit. “Lord Commander,” Unit said stiffly, holding out his hand. “General.” Luroka shook it. “We have 175 soldiers with us to help you hunt down this Rahkshi,” Unit continued, as said soldiers slowly marched out onto the Barren. “Then I reckon we should accomplish the defeat of the beast quite promptly,” Luroka replied, turning to his own smaller group. “Pack up, we’re moving out!” “Indeed,” Unit said, crossing his arms over his chest. “How long have you been tracking it?” “Weeks now,” Luroka said. “We’ve been directly on its trail for the past few days.” Unit nodded. “Does it seem like it’s attempting to elude you?” “I doubt it. It seems too powerful for that. Rather, I think we should be on the lookout for an ambush, judging by the corpses it tends to leave behind.” “Were they Skull Beast or Protector corpses?” Luroka nodded. “A bit of both. I’d sent a scouting party out, and we found their remains.” Unit frowned, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “That is concerning, but it’s good to know that it kills indiscriminately. If it was more particular about its targets, I’d be inclined to think that the Brotherhood of Ata was responsible.” He shrugged. “As it stands, do you know anything about its origins?” “We do not,” Onua said, joining them, “although we suspect that it may have something to do with whatever is stirring beneath the Barren.” As if on cue, the ground trembled beneath their feet, and a sinister chill ran down their spines. “In any case,” Luroka said quickly, “we should get moving.” “And we shall,” Unit agreed, turning to Narmoto. “Captain, ensure that we have a good watch on our flanks and rear, then start marching. Space out the formation; I don’t want to see the men chain-immolated if we get ambushed.” “Of course, General,” she said, before turning and barking out the commands. Luroka took a deep breath. “Alright. Here goes nothing.” -Kamuk, Daggerfall: Catacombs- -Quin Galum- IC: Quin, Vinheim (Confrontation) Quin’s attempt to sneak past the five guards in front of the vault was a dismal failure – not that he had expected much from it in the first place. Sighing, he drew his sword and make a break for the vault door. One of the guards moved to stab him, only to choke on their own blood as Pouks’ knife was buried in their throat. He flashed his companion a quick grin (even though Pouks had disobeyed his command) and cut down another guard before reaching the vault. He chanced a glance over his shoulder at Pouks, to find the young rookie holding off the remaining three guards far more easily than he would have expected. This was, clearly, why a rookie like him had managed a position in Daggerfall. Quin turned his attention back to the vault door, managing to get it open. Inside, on a pedestal, he saw the Torch of Ma. He could feel its divine energies crackling in the air as he slowly stepped inside. “Oh, Quin….” He glanced over his shoulder to see Pouks having backed to the entrance of the vault. Vinheim had arrived, with fifteen of his best guards accompanying him. “Shoot them,” Vinheim ordered. “Assist the vault guards! Kill the traitors!” Pouks cut down another of the vault guards, leaving only one left. As some of Vinheim’s soldiers charged forward, Quin retreated further into the vault. Time to see how powerful this thing is, he thought, as he grabbed the Torch of Ma. Just the act of touching the Torch seemed to flood him with energy, and Quin shuddered from the overload. Filled with energy, he lunged past Pouks. Wielding the Torch in one hand and his sword in the other, he swung his sword at the final vault guard, slicing their torso open as they tried to back away. He grimaced as one of Vinheim’s soldiers stabbed him in the back – but the Torch of Ma flared, and the soldier’s sword shattered without harming him. “Push forward! Kill the Petros swine!” Vinheim ordered. “Let the traitor have the Torch. Don’t let him escape the vault!” Quin turned his attention to Vinheim, removing his sword from the dead guard’s body and throwing it at the King. Vinheim dodged the sword easily as his soldiers took up defensive positions, though the move opened up a possible path of escape. “Pouks, run!” Quin yelled, holding the Torch before him as he dove past the soldiers. Pouks followed him, and once the rookie was next to him, Quin asked, “your relative, Velika. Where is he?” “He’d be in Fort Patrus,” Pouks said as they rounded a corner. “We’re not going to see King ShadowVezon?” “I fear it’s too late for that,” Quin said, sighing. “I have a hunch that he may find his own way out. I need to speak to Lord Anuhea; I’ll require his aid.” “To Fort Patrus, then?” “Yes, Pouks. To Fort Patrus.” -Qendroj City- -Ehksidian Glacies- IC: Ehks Ehks, Piruk, Velika and Photok arrived at the gates of Qendroj City. Surprisingly, they found only Fire Protectors guarding the gate – led by one that Ehks recognized as Captain Nuhrii Coal. “State your business,” Nuhrii called. “We’re making our way to the Barren on Knights business,” Ehks called back. “This was the safest route to get to our intended destination.” “What business do the Knights have in the Barren?” “To find a long-lost temple,” she answered. “One that, until recently, we were unaware even existed. It has been gone for hundreds of years… and we finally have a way to recover it. It may be our only hope at learning how to stop the Great War. Nuhrii laughed. “Sure, sure. Come on in.” The gate opened, and with the others trailing behind her, Ehks entered the city. Once all four were inside the gate shut behind them – and then no less than thirty Fire Protectors were surrounding them, all armed and ready for combat. Nuhrii himself soon appeared, and apologetic look on his face. “I’m afraid that we’re going to have to take you into custody,” he said. “Qendroj City prides itself on being a neutral location for the good of Okoto. We can’t have the Knights bursting in here, pursuing political goals.” She frowned, her hand drifting toward the hilt of her sword. “We’re merely passing through.” “I’m sure you are,” Nuhrii said, his tone making it clear that he either didn’t believe her or simply didn’t care. “You won’t mind waiting in the holding cells, then, while I report your presence to my superiors…?” “The fire burns in the dark,” Velika said quietly, so that only Ehks could hear. She could see a spark of realization and dread in the Mask Maker’s eyes. “From a spark, an inferno.” “Time is of the essence for us,” Ehks said to Nuhrii, pushing Velika’s words to the back of her mind. “We cannot wait for too long. One small mistake and we may lose our only chance to stop the Great War… or at least, to prepare for it.” She sighed. “If you must talk to your superiors before letting us pass onto the Barrens, then do so. As quickly as possible; I have no idea how much time we have left.” Nuhrii smirked at her, before turning to one of the Fire Protectors. “Get word to Lady Efandril and the Imperator, won’t you? Tell them that we have Knights in custody, attempting to enter the Barren… at the bidding of both Kamuk and Karamu.” Oh no, Ehks thought, seeing her own dread reflected at her in Piruk’s face as the guard nodded and hurried away. “We’re not entering on behalf of Kamuk or Karamu,” she said slowly. Nuhrii turned back to her, ignoring what she’d said. “I want twenty of you to take them to the holding cells. The rest of you… with me. It’s time that Qendroj City found a new Lord Commander.” She scowled. “You’d rather be promoted than tell the truth? Even at the cost of Okoto itself? One misstep and we’re doomed. The Temple of Histories is our only hope against the oncoming threat. This doesn’t only concern the Knights; it concerns the entire island. “Your actions will spark a war. If we fight amongst ourselves, there is no chance that we will survive the oncoming battle. This is beyond what has happened before. Worse than the Long Night, worse than the War of Five Kings. Do you really wish to have the guilt of letting that happen land firmly on your shoulders? To know, in your dying moments as the island is razed to the ground, that you could have helped stop it?” Nuhrii was gone before her rant was even half-finished. His guards, clearly more loyal to him than they were willing to listen to her, poked and prodded her group with their swords, nudging them in the direction of the holding cells. Ehks clenched her fists, beyond appalled at what the Fire Protector had done as the guards began stripping them of their weapons. “Any ideas?” she whispered as they were shoved into a cell, the door rattling shut behind her. “There’s no way we’ll get out of the cells, and he’ll clearly lie about our purpose here.” Velika shook his head, looking tired. His teleportation stunt back in Fort Patrus must have exhausted him more than he had let on. “There must be something,” Piruk said. “If we can escape, it’s possible that Nuhrii’s superiors will believe he was making it up. It will, at least, delay hostilities.” Ehks nodded. “Especially if we can find his superiors first, and directly inform them.” She glanced over to Velika. “I’m guessing that you won’t be able to use our key to the temple again?” Velika shook his head – not until they reached their destination. “Informing his superiors would be a poor idea,” Piruk said. “We can’t afford another delay, and it’s likely they would take his word over ours, even if they know that he lies.” “Right... so, outnumbered and outclassed. Simply running would be a bad idea,” she mumbled, her gaze shifting to the guards. “Do you truly believe that Nuhrii has what is best for you all in his heart? Do you not pride yourselves on your neutrality?” “Nuhrii’s an idiot,” one of the guards said, shrugging. “But he’s an idiot who’s loyal to Aodhiim.” “We should have just gone straight to the border,” Piruk said quietly. “We’d be in the Barren already if we had.” Nodding along to what Piruk was saying, Ehks tried once more to get through to the guards. “He’s an idiot who wishes to make Aodhiim fight a way that nobody can afford to fight. You care more for Aodhiim than here, correct? Do you truly want your nation to go to war again, based on a lie?” When the guards refused to respond, Piruk tapped her shoulder. “Perhaps it is time that we started taking some risks,” he said, still so quiet that the guards could not hear him. The aged Jungle Protector slowly unwrapped his travelling cloak, laying it on the floor – revealing four large knives. The guards had been smart enough to seize their more obvious weapons, but had clearly been too eager to remember to properly search them. Exchanging a silent glance with the others, Ehks nodded. She reached down, closing her hand around the handle of one of the knives – and then sliced it at the legs of one of the guards. “Photok! Grab one and move! Disarm and disable, don’t kill!” Photok ignored the command, grabbing a knife and shoving it into the back of the guard that she had injured. As the guard died, Photok grabbed the ring of keys from the guard’s slackened grip. The second guard fled, no doubt running to sound the alarm. Ehks threw her knife at him, but it bounced off the bars and nicked Photok on his arm. The Stone Protector inhaled sharply, looking sheepish. “Let’s get out of here,” Ehks said. Photok reached around and unlocked the cell door before pushing it open. “There must be an armory somewhere,” he said. “As much of a hurry as we’re in, the Barren’s a dangerous place. We’ll want proper weapons.” “Of course,” she said. “Daggers won’t do.” Velika took the lead now. Even with the changes that had been made to the city since the War of Five Kings, he still knew it better than anyone else alive. With his guidance they snuck into one of the city’s sublevels without difficulty, and into an armory. Ehks cursed under her breath as a patrol of guards ran by – the alarm had been sounded. “Grab something quick,” she ordered, grabbing a spear for herself. “I know that I said this journey would be my last,” Piruk said, looking worried as he grabbed a sword, “but we really can’t afford for any of us to die here. Keep any fighting to a last resort.” “The less fighting the better,” Ehks agreed. “Velika, show us the way.” Velika led them down several hallways, before coming to a stop in front of a wall and frowning. Uh oh. “New wall?” she gussed. Looking worried, Velika nodded. “Do you know of any other ways to exit?” As if in answer to her question, she heard shouts from behind them – troops searching the catacombs of Qendroj City for them. Velika gestured to her before reaching up and pulling off the Mask of Time, holding it out to her. She glanced at the Mask of Time and then back to him. “You want me to use it?” He nodded, pointing to her mask and then to his own face. Ehks took the Mask of Time from him before removing her own mask and handing it to him. Velika put it on before turning back to the wall and placing one palm on it, concentrating. Ehks turned as six Fire Protectors rounded the corner, weapons drawn; they opened their mouths to shout to their comrades. Here goes nothing…. She concentrated on the Mask of Time, trying to slow down time around them. She felt something tug in her gut, and the world seemed to shift, a sense of wrongness overcoming her. Whatever happened, she knew it hadn’t worked correctly – but it did look like the Fire Protectors had slowed. Ehks herself felt strangely warm, like when she rubbed her hands together. A quick glance at the others told her that they were all fine. Velika alone remained as he was before, but both Piruk and Photok looked worried. “Did it suddenly get really warm in here to anyone else?” Photok asked. “Yes, it is,” she said. “I… let’s make this quick. It didn’t work right, I can feel it.” “I think,” Piruk said slowly, “that instead of slowing down time, you’ve sped it up… for us, at least.” “Well,” she said, sighing, “that’s one way to do it.” -The South- -Reisen Tyde- IC: Reisen Reisen stepped off his ship, eyeing the smoke that trailed into the sky from what he knew to be the nearest village. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” one of his crew members said. “Double time!” Reisen yelled, ignoring them. His men picked up the pace, hurrying toward the village. As they approached, Reisen noticed the source of the smoke – a great fire burning in the central building of the village. Corpses were strewn about, presumably villagers who had tried to fight back. Giving some of the men flares, Reisen split them into groups to scout the village and its surrounding area, before one of the survivors, a young woman who had clearly been roughened up, ran to him. “Please, you have to help us,” she cried, desperation clear on her battered face. “What happened?” Reisen asked. “Who did this? Where did they go?” “It was terrible! They were big, some bigger than Toa! They attacked us, took everything, k-killed my brother!” The woman collapsed into a wailing heap. Some of the other villagers now started to get up and approach Reisen’s soldiers. “I’ll ensure they pay, madam, but someone must first tell me which way they went,” Resien said, before raising his voice: “Did anyone see which direction the marauders went?” One person, an older Protector with a fractured mask, stepped forward. “They went further inland, southwest of here. If you can find them, please, you must stop them. They took my son, and others prisoner.” Reisen reassuringly set a powerful, armored hand on the elder’s shoulder. “I swear that I will.” He turned away to speak with his soldiers. He left the medics and a small squad of soldiers with the villagers, to tend to them and make sure that the fire raging in the center of the village couldn’t spread. Five others he sent back to the ship, to signal the others in the fleet to provide reinforcements. The remaining soldiers and returning scouts were then gathered, and they began marching southwest. It wasn’t long before, up ahead, they saw a signal flare shoot into the sky. -Silodas, Council Chambers- -Jakura Aodh- IC: Jakura, Efandril (Meeting) It didn’t take long after Jakura returned to the Council Chambers for Balta to arrive. Relieved at how quickly Balta had returned – as well as the fact that he was still alive – Jakura welcomed him with a slight bow of his head, before getting right to business. “I apologize for summoning you so soon, but I’m pleased to see that you’re safe. Any luck in your investigation?” “Not much,” Balta said, looking frustrated. “There’s definitely a traitor on the Council, but… we turned up some other worrying signs too. There’s somebody outside of Aodhiim acting behind the scenes, driving events. They have an agent placed high in the chain of command somewhere, but we’ve been unable to narrow down any suspects.” Jakura sighed, his disgust evident, and collapsed into his chair. He irritably stroked his chin. “What are the odds that these two individuals are connected?” Balta shrugged, scratching at his chin too. “I think it’s likely that they’re connected in some way, though how closely, I couldn’t say. If they are, I’d say that one of them is playing the other for a fool.” “Mm,” Jakura mumbled. “I suppose it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave Aodhiim right now, then. Your lead proved useful, at least a little – I know now that RG II isn’t dead, or at least wasn’t dead when we assumed he was. He apparently fled to Karamu.” “Captain Kapura recently returned,” Balta said. “He’s down by the harbor, volunteered himself for any upcoming tasks. We could, perhaps, send him?” “Do so,” Jakura said. “Give him ten soldiers. It’s an investigation, not a military operation.” Before Balta could fulfill the command, the doors to the Council Chambers slammed open to reveal Efandril. She stepped into the chambers with one of her Pyromancers – Takua Pyre, her unofficial second in command – in tow. Takua shut the doors behind them, though the sound was covered by Efandril’s shout. “Imperator! Urgent news for you!” Surprised at the interruption, Jakura stood from his chair, leaning forward onto the table. “What’s the meaning of this, Pyromancers?” he asked, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. Efandril bristled slightly at his tone but otherwise continued unperturbed. “Captain Nuhrii has taken control of Qendroj City in the name of Aodhiim. Luroka and his Toa have been locked out in the Barren. What’s more, he apparently captured a join envoy sent to venture into the Barren by the Knights, Kamuk, and Karamu.” Jakura arched an eyebrow. “Unexpected, I’ll admit. Was this a peaceful capture?” “Messenger didn’t say,” Efandril said. “But out forces in the city outnumbered the Earth garrison four to one. I can’t imagine they would have put up much of a fight.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “but if we don’t do something, combat is sure to ensue when Luroka and Onua return.” Nodding solemnly, Jakura tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the table. “The last thing Aodhiim needs is an angry Toa breathing down our necks… but it’s too late to pull out now. I want it declared that Qendroj City is indeed under Aodhiim’s sovereign control – but I also want it made clear that the city is still a free and individual entity, and is permitted to continue governing itself so long as they remain loyal to Aodhiim. I doubt either Luroka or Onua will be particularly pleased, but it’s better than the alternative. We can argue specifics with them when they return, and hope they’re willing to be diplomatic about the situation.” He looked up at Efandril. “Unless you have an alternative solution?” Efandril pondered the question for a moment. “That could work. You’re certainly right that it’s too late to pull out. It would make us look weak, and could sour our relations with the other nations more than simply keeping the city.” She cocked her head. “I think it’s a good solution. I’d propose a slight addition to it, however; we should send reinforcements to Qendroj City. Otherwise Luroka might try to drum up support with nations that dislike us, such as Karamu. He might storm the city directly or try to pressure us into abandoning it. Neither of those occurrences would be particularly good for us. However, a force of two thousand well-trained Fire Protectors manning its legendary fortifications would make the city nigh untouchable. Nobody would so much as think of trying to reclaim it.” With a satisfied smile, Jakura nodded his approval. “Splendid thinking; that’s what we’ll do. I’ll have the necessary troops deployed to the city. Do we know whose orders Nuhrii acted on?” “His own, I imagine,” Efandril said, her tone making it clear that she didn’t think much of the Captain. “Possibly Unit’s, I suppose. Bartok and I wouldn’t have the influence, and I take from your inquiry that it wasn’t you.” “Mm… well, until I know, perhaps I should have Nuhrii imprisoned and replaced as military captain,” Jakura mused. “We can’t afford to tolerate soldiers acting on their own impulses – not in these times, even if it does serve to benefit us.” “Should we really imprison Nuhrii?” Balta asked, frowning. “I mean, I get that he acted outside his command, but if you’re going to solidify our hold on Qendroj City, imprisoning him will seem a sour way of rewarding the commanding officer responsible.” “I am… inclined to both agreeing and disagreeing, with Balta,” Efandril said slowly. “On the one hand, what he says is true. On the other, Nuhrii has done more than act without orders. He has created two different political situations, both equally tricky to deal with.” “Punishment is certainly in order,” Balta said, “but if we intend to hold Qendroj City, we must be seen to reward Nuhrii for his actions, or we risk soldiers who will refuse to fight.” “We could ‘reward’ his behaviour by relocating him elsewhere… perhaps the Barren, under Unit’s command, where he can’t cause trouble,” Jakura suggested. “I had a similar thought,” said Efandril. “I’m not sure about the Barren, though. That doesn’t seem like much of a reward… perhaps a ‘promotion’ to a desk job that doesn’t directly command troops, but has a higher pay grade?” Though he disliked the idea of increasing Nuhrii’s salary, Jakura had to admit that it would sit better with the troops in Qendroj than removing the Captain entirely. “Your suggestion is more sound than mine, I must admit. Very well; I’ll have Nuhrii promoted to ‘Overseer’ of Qendroj City, with someone else taking over as Captain. He’ll have little more to do than ensure that trade continues as usual.” “Excellent,” Efandril proclaimed. “That still leaves the concern of the envoy. Contrary to the city, keeping them isn’t a viable solution. We’ll have to either let them go on their way, or turn them back where they came. Anything else and we’ll surely draw the ire of Kamuk and Karamu.” “Were they passing through Qendroj City, or did they come from Kamuk’s border?” “Messenger didn’t say. I expect he doesn’t know,” Efandril said. “Perhaps I should go with the soldiers? Make sure your orders are carried out, and use my best judgement to deal with the envoy?” After a moment of thought, Jakura nodded. “Very well. Just remember that while it would be disadvantageous for this envoy to make it to the Barren, we don’t want to provoke them into doing anything rash. Do your best to turn them away, but not at risk of war. I may have Balta catch up with you at some point, just to ensure everything is going well.” “Certainly, Imperator,” Efandril responded. She turned to depart, before something stopped her. “Oh… the Rahkshi. Did anyone brief you?” “Not yet,” Jakura said. In all honesty, he had been so involved with his personal business that he had forgotten about it. “But I assume, since you’re standing before me in one piece, that everything went well.” “Depending on how you look at it, yes,” she said, seeming suddenly weary. “The Rahkshi was slain. But… its armor shrugged off darkfire like it was nothing, and it cut through our troops like they were butter. Less than a sixth of them made it back with me, and I barely made it back at all.” Jakura fell his smile slowly twist into a grimace. “We overestimated the darkfire’s potency, it seems. Regrettably that we lost those soldiers, but I’m glad the beast is dead – and that you’re safe. Did you suffer any injuries?” “Nothing serious,” Efandril replied. “But, to be fair, the Rahkshi itself was killed by the darkfire, once it had been forced to abandon its armor.” She filled him in quickly on the Rahkshi’s strange physiology. “Peculiar and enlightening,” Jakura murmured. “It’s too bad Voltex isn’t available to look further into the matter for us. What about its staff? Was that destroyed too?” “The staff disintegrated with the rest of its armor,” Efandril said, shifting her weight between her feet. “If that’s all you wanted to know, I’ll go prepare for the trip to Qendroj City.” “Go ahead,” Jakura said. “Spirit be with you.” He was about to turn his attention back to Balta, but paused. “Oh, and…. Thank you for the information and for your counsel, Lady Efandril. This nation owes much to you and your loyalty, especially after Turahk’s defeat. I will see you repaid in no small capacity.” Efandril gave him a bow as she backed out of the room, Takua in tow. “Thank you, Imperator.” Once the doors to the Council Chambers had closed, Jakura turned to Balta. “Do you trust her, Balta? She is of my house… but I can’t say that’s a reassuring fact.” “House Aodh has always stood together,” Balta said, sounding hesitant. “And House Ash with them. If anything, I’d be worried about Voltex, sir, with his loyalties to the Knights. But I can keep an eye on the Pyromancers if you want me to.” “Your opinion is noted,” Jakura said distractedly. “I want you to tail Efandril, and don’t let her know of your presence until necessary. She’ll expect you in Qendroj City regardless, so I trust you can accomplish this without raising too much suspicion. Assist her with the envoy if the need arises.” “Of course.” “Send word for Captain Kapura to continue the investigation into Karamu in my stead,” Jakura continued with some unease. Though he desperately wanted to pursue the mission himself, the report on Turahk had brought another thought to his mind. “The battle with Turahk scared off the Creature of Fire, I presume. Any idea where it might have fled to?” “Latest reports have placed the Creature of Fire north, near Qendroj City,” Balta said. “How… coincidental,” Jakura said. “I suppose, then, that we’re both headed north.” Continued in Part II.

who says it was Sahmad? also, the mask was being used to literally mind control people with free will, so it's understandable why the murderer would break it.