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BZPRPG - Ko-Wahi


Nuju Metru

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IC: Enforcer - Obsidian Outpost Arena.

 

I sit there, a silent sentinel, watching as the Ga-Koro team's members choose themselves. Scholar, Spectre, Ace and Tracer. I sincerely hoped they were able to work together without any problems, for their sakes.

 

They're free to go at anytime; they just seem to be waiting for Scholar to return. If he didn't hurry up, I'd have to go and find him myself, and he wasn't going to like what would happen to him if I did....

Embers - a new Bionicle Epic - Coming 2024 

Class Is Out - A Farewell To Corpus Rahkshi - Chapters/Review

BZPRPG Characters - Minnorak, Kain, T'harrak, Savis, Vazaria, Lash

BZPRPG Mercenary Group - The Outsiders - Description - History - Base

Ghosts Of Bara Magna - Ash Tribe - Precipere - Kehla, Somok, Skrall, Gayle, Avinus, Zha'ar

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IC: Scholar and Ayar (Obsidian Outpost)

 

Disengaging after a hug that OOC had felt like days but IC was only actually a few seconds, Scholar and Ayar smiled at each other. "Thanks again," Scholar said, a slight twinkle gleaming in his sky-blue eyes. Ayar lent forward a bit and, in answer, pecked the Ko-Toa on the cheek. "You're welcome," she said shyly, smiling. Scholar stared up at her in awe for a few awkward seconds, before shaking his head and saying, "I should be off back to the courtyard now. See ya later!" as he turned and exited the infirmary.

Arriving back in the courtyard, jumping up and down like a hyperactive child, he said, "When do we leave?"

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IC: Verulas (Spectre) - Obsidian Outpost (Courtyard)

"When everyone's ready," Verulas said, checking his backpack to make sure he had enough supplies. "Duh."

OOC: Verulas (sans cape :() is ready to go. Waiting on confirmation from everyone else (a.k.a Construct and Endless) before moving to Ga-Wahi.

Edited by Timageness

Epics: 

Hero Factory: Contagion

RPG Characters:

BZPRPG Characters

RPG History:

The Asylum, Bionifight Infinite, Year 60,000, Matoran und Panzer, HF RPG 2.0, Wasteland, Corpus Rahkshi, Skyrise

GM Résumé:

Matoran und Panzer (Formerly Appointed Co-GM), Corpus Rahkshi (Former Substitute Co-GM)

 

 

Feel free to shoot a PM my way if you're waiting for me to respond to something and I've been taking a while to do so.

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-IC:-

Sylus Tudor, I presume.

 

IC:

The eponymous man looked up.

 

"That'd be me," he said, his brilliant white smile appearing once again, his gaze never wavering from the scarlet figure before him as he tried flicking the Ga-Matoran in the head. "And you are, I presume, Hakann?"

 

-Void

 
 
[ BZPRPG ]

 

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-IC:-

 

I take it you are... acquainted with my person? My activities?” I prolong the conversation to further inspect his person. Crimson and aureate armour; reminiscent of the idealism of Ta-Koro, despite his reputation. Simplicity of speech; intention to disarm or feign naïveté?

 

As my legato, suave speech rumbles and slithers from my soulless half-smile with ophidian grace, my equivocal gaze remains perpetual, unblinking, unwavering. Each syllable timed with a heartbeat; self-awareness of the apex predator. Weigh each moment and select the strategically supreme action, be it word or strike. Maintain control and perpetuate false weakness, illusion of enervation.

Edited by L'Etranger
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IC:

"Well, if you are who I think you are, then subtlety isn't one of your strong suits," Sylus replied, his eyes flicking over to the Toa standing by Hakann's side. "We have a mutual friend who gave me a few details, and I managed to fill in most of the gaps on my own."

 

His gaze was back on the Skakdi.

 

"Apparently you wanted to meet me?"

 

-Void

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IC:

 

"Of course," said Sylus, bowing his head ever-so-slightly before raising it with a devilish grin. "Right this way."

 

...

 

The cafe had once a gem of Ko-Koro's high entertainment, well-renowned for its hot chocolate in elegantly-decorated porcelain cups. All of its furniture had been beautiful ironwood carved into intricate figures and its outdoor terraces had been ringed with delicate steel fencing.

 

Now, the fencing was bent beyond repair, the furniture lay abused and smashed, and the porcelain cups were smashed against walls.

 

The two criminals entered the cafe, whereupon Sylus propped up two of the only chairs remaining in one piece to stand by one of the last tables to stay intact. Leaning on the latter piece of furniture, he waved the Skakdi towards the seat opposite him.

 

"You want some hot chocolate, Hakann?" he asked, taking his own seat. "Very good stuff here, and I've finally managed to figure out the recipe."

 

-Void

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-IC:-

 

I shall refrain. I would prefer to return to the Sanctum shortly.” I remain standing, my static half-smile tinted with ennui. “I require your services for an extended period of time, in conjunction with the two other beings awaiting us. I intend to pay with something more valuable than mundane currency; something from Makuta's Vault.

 

As I speak, my hand reaches into the satchel at my side. As the last syllable of my speech is finished, I present the payment. A Kanohi Elda, its form alien and unique.

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IC:

 

Sylus couldn't help but let his breath be caught in his throat.

 

An information broker of his caliber, master of every forgery currently known to Matoran-kind, this Toa had had enough of an education in the school of hard knocks to know a rare (scratch that, actually: barely heard of) Kanohi when he saw it. The Elda, mask of detection: long known to be theoretically possible, but never-before-seen either on the island or having been brought by any of the beings who seemed to routinely wash ashore. Sylus' eyes glittered like water at the bottom of a well at the sight of it; it was an arduous task to keep from licking his lips in anticipation.

 

Fortunately, however, he managed to keep his composure. Only a faint upward curl of his lips marred his stoic expression.

 

"Pretty thing," said he, hands clasped together on the table. "But as my father always said: never accept payment before you know what you're being paid for."

 

-Void

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-IC:-

 

Your father seems a wise man; let us see if that is a hereditary trait. Tell me, what must I do to cement my position on this island, to ensure not only my survival but my advancement? My first target, my greatest concern?

 

My gaze hardens, the dull burning momentarily transforming into utter void before resuming its normal colouration. No visible heat-signatures.

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IC:

 

Sylus stayed silent for a long moment. He leaned back in his chair, hanging one arm over its back and drumming the fingers of his other hand on the table. His eyes glittered in their sockets as he considered the words that the Skakdi had spoken just now, the ones he had spoken before, what he knew of the present situation already, putting it together like a cocktail order back at the Lantern.

 

"Logically," he finally said, "your chief concern would be the Akiri. At this point, you and your friends are Public Enemies Number One, and I wouldn't be surprised if they were already pooling their resources and preparing to mount some glorious offensive against this village any day now. If you take them out, then you and everyone else in this village goes up on top of the proverbial mountain.

 

"That being said," he continued, smile dying on his lips, "the very fact that you wanted a private meeting has me getting some seriously paranoid vibes from you, brother. And so I have to consider the possibility that the threat of the Akiri's attack is what's keeping you in reasonable security; I mean, Echelon and the other Big Bads might be pricks, but they're not about to go killing off their warriors now. So then I wonder if you're ... concerned that when all of you are standing at the top of that mountain, Akiri beaten and the island under your thumb, you'll be the one they'll decide to push off."

 

His eyes bored into Hakann's own.

 

"If you one-up the Akiri, you survive. If you one-up your fellows, you thrive."

 

-Void

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-IC:-

 

"A savvy deduction; you grasp two components of my situation. External menace, intrinsic instability." My smile tightens slightly, gently, as both of our gazes continue unblinkingly. The alliteration is accompanied with a faux self-amused inflection. "The Akiri themselves, and the machinations of the Pact, are my greatest concerns, yes. But my first target? At whom do I strike? Where do I... blitzkrieg? If I hired an assassin for each Akiri and repeated the murder of the Turaga; tell me, would the Koros crumble, threats dissolve? If I slaughtered Echelon or slit the throat of Vezok, would I insure a direct decrease in my likelihood of being murdered? I'm not looking to place myself as emperor of this island in a single action, Mr. Tudor. I'm looking to keep myself alive, breathing."

 

I lean slightly forward, the claws of my feet clenching slightly into the bloodstained tiling of this desolated café. Each syllable synchronised with a heartbeat, every word painstaking excogitated. "The Akiri will eventually induce my death, if left unheeded; my comrades the same. But my first target? My immediate concern? Who could waltz into this city and make Echelon tremble, Sylus? Who could eviscerate me with minimal exertion?"

 

Pause, for body language analysis (and, yes, dramatic effect). Return to original position. "Tell me, Sylus Tudor, czar of the polite transgression, what piece shall I take? The King, at the cost of my bishops, my knights, and my security, when it moves a single space and can be cornered in moments?"

 

"Or shall I plot, scheme, and take the anomaly, the strategy-defiler, in a moment of silent horror? Break the spirit and body of the great Queen herself, and with a little planning and restriction of the other pieces, watch the whole disintegrate in the following confusion. At the very least, cripple the abilities of the other pieces to move freely and thoughtlessly. Coup de grâce."

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IC

 

The dark man completed his latest circuit, one of a thousand. The village had changed under Echelon's rule, that much was certain. Everywhere he looked, he saw ruffians, thugs and criminals, the residue at the bottom of the island's barrel.  Had he revealed his face, no doubt every last one of them would have recognized him; he was surely more famous than any save Echelon himself. But he remained hidden beneath his hood and cloak, observing. His time would come. Until then, he would remain watchful and silent.

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IC:

 

Sylus leaned forward, his chin now balanced on the knuckles of a fist. A seed of bad taste germinated in his gut, sowed by the wrong answer he had now given, its growth only kept checked by the hope that his next one would be correct.

 

"You're talking about the Maru, aren't you?"

 

-Void

 
 
[ BZPRPG ]

 

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-IC:-

 

Slayers of the Dark God. My initial intention was to remove them out of tactical necessity, but I know now that they are also spiritual leaders, far more tangible and accessible than the slumbering gods. Break the souls of the resistance, and one either incites guerilla resistance or wins the most important battle. I do not dislike either option; I know guerilla warfare and revel in its complexities, and I like to win my engagements.

 

I pause, once again flickering into thermographic inspection. No threats perceived. As I move slightly, realigning my posture, I prime the Lava Launcher, letting it prepare a massive potential offensive.

 

I would be satisfied with two deaths, but would prefer more; remove the mobility and the leadership, and you have a broken army. I've been... contemplating my situation for quite some time. After the Ta-Koro incident, no less than three Maru paid a visit to the Vault. I managed to survive, but I won't be making a similar mistake again. I plan to assassinate those I can, and study those I cannot. Exponential superiorities of combatants is our only hope in direct, straightforward combat. Therefore, I suggest explosives, snipers; the tools of anarchists, preferably in simultaneous assaults. Shall I continue? Or perhaps the great Sylus Tudor is having second thoughts?

 

My Lava Launcher silently completes its charging. A burst at this power would be rather difficult to avoid, even with forewarning, from more than a hundred metres away. The faintest hint of a true grin plays on my lips.

Edited by L'Etranger

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IC (Kohra):

 

"Yes, that seems like a good idea. Though I would take care how you treat his sons...he is a jealous god after all."

 

It was almost worth a chuckle. Here was Vezok, the full package of rage and fury circling the eye of a hurricane - and he was a far better conversation partner than the eloquent Hakann. Just like the Brotherhood and Nightfall were a union of convenience, it seemed that the Piraka were quite at odds with each other in terms of personality. Bad blue was mostly straightforward so far. Getting in his way would mean to get ground into dust, or some equally nasty fate. Big red on the other hand seemed like the type who liked to test a freshly sharpened knife on himself if he hadn't spilled blood in a while. Having spent part of the day together, she decided she preferred the ungovernable choleric over the linguistically adept psychopath.

 

IC: Vezok

 

"Oh course he is, I wouldn't expect anything else," I kept my tone from becoming completely dismissive, there was no point in offending those with influence here, not past the point of deniability.  If they wanted to muttering to their god like the last island we were on, I certainly wasn't going to stop them.  Oh sure, I'd heard al about Makuta's acts of darkness and evil across this place, but I'd also seen what antidermis could do to someone.  I hardly doubted his power, but his defeat only served to bring him down from the status of an idea floating around to justify the actions of psychopaths.

 

Oh but wouldn't I greatly enjoy spending some time with him.

 

Hakann left, unceremoniously, to go surround himself with more pawns in his imagined game.  His delusions being the only contender to his early demise to my own blade.  Better to keep the enemy of my enemy on equal footing where they're at arms length, rather than as underlings so they can cut your legs out from beneath you.  Interestingly, he left his instruments with us.

 

The matoran makes his way over, blabbering something intelligent.

 

"Perhaps," I direct my attention to Kohra, "Seeing as your boss is taking his time, perhaps you could lead an ally around this fortress you have captured."

 

I let my visage take a natural upward curl.

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-IC:-

 

"Shall I continue? Or perhaps the great Sylus Tudor is having second thoughts?

 

IC:

 

The Toa leaned back in his chair, both arms hanging over its back, a lazy grin drawing itself on his face.

 

"So ... what? You want me to start killing Maru for you? I'm sorry, I'm having trouble understanding what you mean; I must have left my thesaurus in my other pants."

 

-Void

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-IC:-

 

Have you kill the Maru? No. Have you transport assassins into whatever location I decide upon? Prepare false identities? Plan and protect escape routes and devise contingency plans? You would be the intelligence and the support of any operation. I was told that you were the superior source of information, false identities, etcetera; there should be no great difficulty in moving a sniper into a city full of armed warriors, or a disguised explosive hidden among real cargo. To ease your worries, I can promise no killing on your part, unless a fellow associate risks squealing.

 

I reduce my speech into ingenuous terminology, effortlessly transitioning into banal and prosaic speech. “You get the killers inside, you give them the opportunity, and you get them out or make sure they won't ever been seen again. For your efforts I hand you a mask that, if I'm not mistaken, hasn't been seen in quite a long while. Certainly worth far more than the fee of any assassination aid or other clandestine operative.

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IC:

 

Sylus leaned over the table again, fingers of his right hand drumming a steady rhythm against the ironwood. His expression was stoic, but his thoughts whirled with suspicions, calculations, estimations, analyses. What Hakann here was proposing was so extreme that it was pretty much ludicrous; and even though the informant (and nightclub owner, on the side) knew that these ludicrous times, he nonetheless hesitated. The Elda offered nearly-unheard of powers, but its unique design would leave him vulnerable to enemies with good eyes and long memories. The personal risk was, hypothetically, negligible; but the concern that one of his agents could reveal his identity to the justice system was great. He would be playing with fire here.

 

A smile flickered on his lips.

 

What's life without a little danger?

 

"So I'm your fixer?" he said, more statement than question, already rising to his feet and beginning his trip over to where the Skakdi stood. "I suppose I have some experience in that regard. I get the mask ahead of time, I presume?"

 

-Void

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-IC:-

 

Correct.” I do not hand him the Mask on his approach, insteading maintaining my grip on the invaluable Kanohi. “But before we seal this pact, there is the matter of one final detail. I will have the other members of this operation watching for mistakes, treasonous statements. If you find that a fellow operative has been less than loyal, notify me as soon as possible.

 

I paused, turning the mask over in preparation of grip-release and presentation. “I have no patience for deceivers so amateur that they are unable to mask their deceit. Tell me their location and I will dispose of them and make an example.

 

My smile grows hard, position of the mask shifts slightly in my hand. “Have we come to an agreement?” The Lava Launcher quivers slightly in my other hand, its barrel pointed directly downwards.

Edited by L'Etranger

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IC:

 

He knows.

 

Sylus' smile never wavered.

 

He knows how I work.

 

His hands slipped into the pockets of his slacks.

 

He knows what my plans are.

 

"Of course," the criminal said. "But I have a few stipulations of my own: for example, I will require protection should my position become ... untenable, but my utility remains to you. Not to mention, a reasonable portion of whatever profit my endeavours bring you."

 

-Void

 
 
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-IC:-

 

"Acceptable. Lunefeld shall accompany you and act as bodyguard and observer. You shall receive a share of whatever I gain." Despite my better judgement, I suspect I will honour this agreement, assuming Sylus performs accordingly, as a favour from one professional to another.

 

Movement smooth, I soften my iron grip into an average hold. "I suppose you may begin to grow familiar with your payment. I shall outline our operation in greater detail, following my meeting with Echelon. Notify me of any potential assassins hiding in shadows." The mask's surface is dull, unreflective, and wholly unimpressive, but beneath the dull surface lies a power I would be happy to abuse. With great indifference, I hand it to Sylus; transaction from one professional to another.

Edited by L'Etranger

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OOC: To anyone interacting in Ko-Koro: if you haven't already, please read this post. The Brotherhood of Ak'Rei'An is no longer in Ko-Koro.

 

IC (Echelon)

 

From a high window in the Citadel, Echelon had watched the departure of Larikon and his followers, with the dispassionate eye of one watching ants flee from boiling water poured into their nest.

 

As the last of the Brotherhood passed through the gates, the Dark Toa's attention was pulled away by a Kakama-wearing messenger who handed him a scroll marked 'urgent'. There was a sharp intake of breath as Echelon read the contents of the report.

 

***

 

One by one, runners reached the other five members of the Nightfall, summoning them to the Sanctum. None knew why Echelon was calling this meeting, only that it was of the highest priority.

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OOC: Sorry to bail on Vezok, but she'll be back asap. Hope you don't mind me fast forwarding things a little through the tour.

 

IC (Kohra):

 

"Sure." Kohra said simply, turning around and signaling with her disfigured left hand for the Piraka to follow her. The walk through the fortress was just paced right and she only gave the information Vezok needed to hear, sans details that would help if he and his partners decided to turn on them. That Vezok realized that little fact right away was no surprise. She wasn't trying to hide it and he had expected no less, given his own stance on handing out information about bases of operation.

 

Noticeable along the way were the places where the Nightfall had defaced any Matoran symbols that held significance. Carvings of the Mata had been turned to mockeries of the fallen heroes. In many spots, there was writing on the walls, most finger-drawn in a now dried liquid, which the Skakdi had no trouble figuring out the inkwell for it had been quite alive at some point. 

 

More noticeable than the ghastly scrawls however was the departure of Brotherhood members all over the place. Passing by windows and rooms where its followers had briefly waited for the leader to return, they saw them gather up their things and quickly make their way outside and towards the gates of the village. Larikon's usefulness had obviously come to an end. 

 

When they arrived back outside the sanctum, a messenger approached Kohra, handing her a slip of parchment. She quickly read it, then turned towards Vezok once more. 

 

"Excuse me." she said, before immediately turning away and heading into the sanctum.

Edited by Vezok's Friend

 

 

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IC: Agrona - Ko-Koro

 

     Ever since we had taken Ko-Koro for our own, I had made my home in one of Ko-Koro's taller buildings. What was once an office space had become something entirely new. I had - with Toros' help - filled the basement with cold storage equipment in the first morning. Hours later - with some lackeys - I claimed a number of corpses my colleagues had killed at the gates. These bodies have lined the bowels of my home and I spend most of my time working on them downstairs. Toros sits in the corner as I ask him questions to improve his signing skills.

 

     My level floor became my mixing room. I had given directions to a number of more than willing servants to fetch my things from Le-Wahi and bring them back here for me to use again. It was filled with pots and cauldrons and other raw materials. Without my vials and poisons, I might still be capable (particularly with meat by my side) but no good doctor is without her mixes.

 

     The second floor was my living space. With a fire maintained and closed off entrances, it was always kept warm. With a large window, I had turned the place into a sort of greenhouse. It was filled with flowers and lined with thick blanket walls and doors to maintain the warmth and correct moisture.

 

The summons came to me midday.

 

     At noon I was found on the roof of this home of mine, meditating in the sun. The cold might have been unpleasant, but the sun warmed my insides and offered to me her energy. The cold bit, but the power soothed. I would ruminate here each day at the same time unless the cloud coverage was particularly bad; which it often was. The toa must have been very quiet about coming up the steps because I was even a bit surprised by the soft opening the hatch and the rustling of feet.

 

     "Agrona," began the messenger, "Echelon calls for you and the others."

 

     Ignoring its sharpness in my chest, I breathed in and out cold air before leaning forward from my cross legged position. The toa must have been a bit surprised to see that my cloak was undone, leaving my front naked to the sun's healing rays. I stepped past him, a slightly unsure look on his face, "Good," I said in response to his news, "Do not delay in leaving. I don't like visitors in my home I myself have not invited."

 

     Stepping down the stairs behind the messenger, I reached across my chest and began clasping shut my armour again, making my way to the waist and pelvis, "Toros!" I said loudly, "Gather your cloak, we are going to the Citadel!"

 

     'What was the Dark Toa wanting?' I wondered as my personal servant met me at the front door. I wrapped my cloak tightly around my body, feeling the insects underneath adjusting accordingly as I commanded Toros to, "Open the door."

 

* * * * *

 

     I was the third member of Nightfall at the Citadel, and the second one to walk through the door.

Edited by Palm

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IC Sharky

Uncharacteristically silent through the tour, Sharky came to a stop and began to contemplate as their guide was summoned away. Having lived on, in and around these selfsame streets for several decades. The ga-matoran took note of several half dozens of details that their cicerone had glazed over. At the tour's end, he approached the blue piraka, speaking in low and surreptitious tones.

 

"Pssh, keep this quiet, but that tour? It was a load of muaka ######. That libertine took ya right past half the hidey-holes, holey hides, trapdoors and doors leading away from traps this frozen heap of ###### has got. I'd say it was a purpose-ses-full misguidin'."

Edited by Tiragath
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...but close to it

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