BZPRPG - Le-Wahi

[AuRon the champion]

Ic:

 

"True, I am out of practice..." The reveler mused, "but the leader of the pack has to make sure everything is in order, yes?"

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

The Muaka had prowled this jungle for its entire life - for that was the only measure of time it knew, its life - and had seen all kinds of beings cross its path. The flamboyantly colored little ones and their larger protectors, the ones that could turn the air and the rocks and the dirt against them, the ones with the spindly backs and the teeth like white boulders, the lithe ebon warriors as quick as they were ruthless. The beast had killed at least of all these beings, and in some cases, more. This jungle held no predators that it had cause to fear.

But tonight, alone in the fauna of Le-Wahi, the Muaka felt terror.

Normally, the big cat was the shadow that caught the paranoid eye of prey, but tonight it was the Muaka who found its vision darting from side to side, looking for ghouls; there was a glint here, a rustle there, things that could easily have been the dwindling light of dusk catching a leaf's reflection or the breeze playing with a bush but felt like death. The predator knew the look of death from its many meals, and there was death in the air around it.

The strike came from nowhere, and took it by the neck.

The whip had wrapped around the creature's neck, leaving its paws scrabbling on the ground for purchase. All it succeeded in doing was kicking up dirt in its eyes, obscuring its view. The cat attempted to roar out in pain and rage, but the whip choked the sound into a raspy whimper that died in its throat. When it tugged, thorns blossomed out lazily from the surface of the whip and poked into his throat; the edges were dipped in some foul venom, and it felt the seizing of its legs become a series of spasmodic twitches. The dirt in the Muaka's eyes no longer seemed like such a concern.

Somewhere, a leaf's reflection glinted in the dwindling light of dusk. A breeze played with a bush. Something tugged on the whip.

The Muaka dimly watched it pull on the whip; though its captor had muscles in its legs and arms that could have easily advanced to kill him, his movements were haggard; he was moving one hand down its surface at a time like it was rappelling out of some deep abyss. Over its back was a long spear, fashioned and honed to kill with a touch. The wood's surface looked oily and dangerous; the Muaka made to recoil from it instantly, but the tall man made no effort to draw the weapon from his back, and the cat found it did not even have the strength to twitch. Through the dirt and toxins that clouded its eyes, the prey looked at the predator and saw, saw the hard, gaunt face that was not quite plain but not quite comely, saw the dirt and blood that streaked his collar and armor, saw the eyes - as green and feverish as the Muaka's.

He had gotten closer, closer than the Muaka would have ever allowed or wanted to allow. It batted a paw weakly, and it bounced off the Toa's knee like the feeble touch of an infant. The Toa slipped his hands around the creature's jaw, and something in the back of the creature's head noted that its muzzle was bound shut with vines. The hands tightened, afraid to lose their prize. They clutched like the creature's jawbone were smelted of solid gold

"Ssh," he whispered, in a voice naturally rich but hoarse with disused; it cracked under the weight of the command, like it had not given one in too long a time. "Ssh. Let's make an end."

Somewhere, a leaf's reflection glinted in the dwindling light of dusk. A breeze played with a bush. There was an ugly crack, like the sound of a tree branch breaking at the base.

-Tyler

Edited June 13, 2014 by Plank Sinatra

[Onaku]

IC: Dia

"It says it quite clearly here on the note. Try to keep up." She sarcastically said as she began moving again.

[Observedhalo]

IC: Athiel

 

"I have no idea. We have ventured off the beaten path to such a degree that getting back could take awhile. Is there anything you need to attend to while were here" Athiel took a swig from his glass, which contained some kind of ale.

[Onaku]

IC: Qyntar

"Hmmmm, no, there are no obligations for me here. But if you would allow, I could easily take us to our next destination in much less time than you would expect." Qyntar reminded Athiel. "We could fly there."

[Observedhalo]

IC:Athel

 

The Toa took knife to flesh, carving the steak into pieces. He impaled a small piece with his fork, and slowly consumed it. It was cooked quite nicely, and was the best thing he had had in weeks. "Sure, I suppose I could oblige you."

[Akavakaku]

IC Jrahann:

 

Jrahann followed Dia as she rolled her chair down the forest path.

"Yeah, well, not like they gave us an address. How do we find these pits? And do you know who the Reveler is?"

[Mr. Lightning Bolt]

IC Jrahann:

 

Jrahann followed Dia as she rolled her chair down the forest path.

"Yeah, well, not like they gave us an address. How do we find these pits? And do you know who the Reveler is?"

IC Asuno:

"Probably some Makuta wannabe," Asuno replied. "Maybe we should be on our guard."

He readied the new disc launcher in his hands, and then addressed Dia. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know any mask makers would you?"

[Simulacrum]

-IC:-

 

The room was warm, uncomfortably humid, a deceivingly iridescent selva of treated lumber and cut stone. There were hunting trophies and glorious oil landscapes and portraits adorning the walls, but in truth the grand space was constructed around a massive, elongated dining table, composed of the finest ebony, its legs carved and sculpted into true art belonging to the marble glory of antiquity. Its surface, polished to perfection, was blanketed with the apotheosis of the culinary art, a vivid banquet composed from the grandest of commissariats; the crackling skin of whole-roasted pig, mouth held agape by shining pome, the freshly-steamed seafood, carapaces glistening with life present mere minutes before. Much more was elegantly situated upon the table linens, a veritable cornucopia of creatively prepared comestibles, but description would be inadequate; such quantity is not so easily conveyed.

 

The room's residents were of startling contrast; the chief, a grey, emaciated Toa, ate with unhurried calm, though disturbingly perpetual in his consumption, continually investigating a new dish and examining the pleasure it offered. The other, a Toa of Stone, sat in silence, plate empty before her, accompanied by her daughter, who played away from them both. They were surrounded by a host of guards and servants, all belonging to the esurient consumer, whose need they seemed to understand from facial expression alone, an obedient swarm who removed that which displeased and multiplied the appealing.

 

Gently wiping dripping béarnaise from his chin (simultaneously bringing more of the dish to his mouth with the other, fork-wielding hand), the eating man turned his gaze from the aioli-themed platter he was analysing, finally staring at the waiting guest.

 

“Hungry?” he inquired between mouthfuls, vivid orange eyes slowly, sedately searching the stoic face before him.

 

The addressed's eyes flared for a moment, her contained emotions momentarily escaping. “No,” she responded with almost gritted teeth, fighting to regain control of her facial muscles. “I am content, thank you.”

 

For a fraction of a moment, a glorious tranquility passed over the eater's face, replacing the furtive anger and continual movement, before evaporating like a teardrop falling into flame.

 

“Business, then? You wish to discuss enterprise and industry?” the eyes were searching once more, moving with the grotesque combination of anger and slow contemplation, as the manduction-distorted words slithered from his lips.

 

“You know what I wish, Mutungakore,” the words emanated from her lips, flat and insipid from weariness, subdued with the exhaustion of waging an unseen war.

 

“Yes, I suppose I do. But why should I gratify your desires? I would derive no recompense from such a course of action,” the sentences were obdurate statements, containing neither spite or pride; he issued them from sauce-smothered lips with a half-hearted impassivity, tainted with inflictions of undirected rage, an unholy speech far more disturbing than the Po-Toa's stoicism. “I require offertory for miracles, dear Matea. I am a wanting god; no altruism is hidden in this blackened heart.”

 

“So you have displayed. You want the information, but it is more valuable than what you are willing to pay. You could consider this your first installment of payment,” the words, while granitic, were clearly a plea.

 

The eater, to the surprise of all in the room, paused. He laid his fork back within its designated place, and stood, his absurdly spindly physique revealed in its entirety. Circling the table with the grace of an apex predator, he reached the Po-Toa Matea's daughter before she could react, his strides surprisingly fast, even when compared to a being granted enhanced physical ability. He hoisted the terrified child into the air, examining her briefly, abhorrence the foundation of the myriad emotions displayed through his visage.

 

Matea, having left her seat, activated her Pakari and attempted to charge the assaulter of her child. As her leg rose to take the first step, the gaze of the ravenous, the monstrously edacious Toa refered to as Mutungakore, fell on his aspirational attacker. Instantly, with horrifying speed, the attacker's face transformed into an explosion of green, forcing her Kanohi off of her face, and causing her to crumple to the floor, screaming silently as she attempted to claw the plantlife out of his eyes, mouth, pores.

 

Mutungakore handed the quivering child to one of his guards, and stepped to the convulsing body, racked and twisted with involuntary spasms. Lifting the forcibly removed Pakari from the wooden floor, Mutungakore snapped it harshly between his deceptively thin hands, and let the shards fall onto the heaving ribcage of the Po-Toa. After a moment of motionless observation, he recalled the plants, drawing them off of his opponent's face, retracting the emerald tendrils that had slithered into her esophagus. The screams became audible, a panicked squall that ceased only when Mutungakore's steel-toed shoe made contact with her sternum.

 

“Such impertinence is... refreshing, Matea, but rather threatening to your person,” the tone was highly conversational, as he continued prodding the gasping, reeling Toa with brutal kicks. “I want the information you dare think you can withhold, all of it, and you're going to provide it, smiling.”

Matea scrambled out of her opponents reach before regaining her footing, only to find Mutungkore mere decimeters away, striding purposefully with his hand gripping the glass neck of an empty wine bottle, procured from the edge of the table. It shattered against Matea's face with disabling force, forcing her against the wall. All of Mutungakore's guards and servants looked on in phlegmatic silence, holding Matea's daughter tightly and taking care to do nothing else.

 

“I hunger,” Mutungakore whispered as he stepped close, dragging the broken neck of the bottle across Matea's abdomen, creating a lesion that ran the entirety of the area. “and when you, broken and forsaken, crawl to me on hands and knees, begging for relief,” the glass shard's light cutting continued vertically, from the abdomen to the chest, “when you cry for my mercy, Matea; only then will I be content. I will devour your tears, your blood, your flesh,” he leaned in closer, breath rushing into Matea's face. “I will feed upon on you. I will rend open your ribcage and tear out your heart. I shall raven on the glistening thoracic organs I rip from your quivering flesh,” The bottle paused over Matea's sternum, and then slowly, slightly, pierced inwards with the sickening sound of the rupturing of flesh and skin. “I hunger, Matea, and you shall be my satiation.” He did not merely intone the words; he enacted them, in every cut, in every movement of cruelty.

 

Matea could only stare at the burning orange suns within Mutungakore's countenance, terrified beyond action. Mutungakore retracted the bottle, and gestured to one of the guards, who ran forth to bind the stunned Matea, shackling her and drawing a bludgeon.

 

As Matea, her struggles ceasing with the guard's subsequent blow to her face, watched helplessly, Mutungakore strode to the child, his burning stare forcing her to avert her tear-stained eyes. He paused before her, ignoring the guard that held her aloft, smiling impersonally at her attempts at kicks and punches.

“Know the man who broke your mother,” he murmured inattentively, the majority of his attention devoted to whatever repugnances occurred behind the monstrous orange infernos of his eyes. “Know the name of Kaihoro Mutungakore.”

 

A smile growing, he turned once more, striding to the table, and occupying the seat Matea had originally been offered. Matea watched in silence as the monstrosity ate with an endless zeal, eyes silently roaring as he enhanced the gustatory stimulation of the endless delicacies. After what seemed eternity, he paused once more, and glanced at Matea.

 

“Well? The information?” the question was followed by a meaningful glance at Matea's daughter.

 

Matea began to ramble, speaking as quickly as possible, lists of names, clients. Kaihoro raised a singular finger in a sign of intermission. “I told you to smile while informing,” he frowned at the confused features of Matea, and then gestured to the guard holding the Po-Toa's daughter.

 

“Her auditory systems, I think, for her mother's lack of hearing,” he said as citrus exploded in his mouth, only to be interrupted by a horrified combination of gasp and moan from Matea. He turned, and stared at the Po-Toa with unconcealed disgust. “Her tongue, too for the genitor's apparent inability to remain silent.” The guard nodded, but paused in its movements when Matea began to speak.

 

Matea smiled despite her tears, as she recounted the information pertaining to what she knew regarding Kaihoro's last remaining rival in the underworld of Le-Koro. When she was finished, she gazed, staring in an unspoken plea for mercy, at Kaihoro, who was occupied with the consumption of fowl prepared with bourguignon sauce.

 

“As I expected,” Kaihoro murmured between mouthfuls, apparently unamazed at the highly useful intel. “Take her eyes as well, for her mother's inability to perceive her uselessness.”

 

The guard nodded, and strode out the door, accompanied by two others. Matea wept bitterly, held back by the guard who had restrained her, striking her once more as he attempted to crawl towards Mutungakore. “You didn't have to,” she kept murmuring, as she struggled.

 

“Oh, yes, I know. It wasn't required, an epicurean extravagance, if anything, but I thought it would serve a valuable lesson to you,” Kaihoro wiped his condiment-drenched lips, eyes inclement and emotions vague, and continued.

 

“Did you expect some reward for your tardiness? I wanted this information upon your arrival, and you've made me miss valuable time. I don't suppose I'll ever know which of these delicacies are the greatest. You've restricted my ability to enjoy myself, to take pleasure at what I have been offered,” he placed his fork upon his plate, and turned to stare at the broken Po-Toa before him. In the distant background, the screaming and shrieking began, extending past usual lengths and inflections, sending a fresh wave of tears flowing down Matea's cheeks.

 

“That is the most heinous crime you can commit within my kingdom. For that, you shall die only after watching the destruction of your daughter.” Finished with his guest, Kaihoro Mutungakore gestured at the guards closest to Matea, and resumed his feast, blissful even as the screams grew higher and higher in pitch and acquired unique inflections, a cacophony to his enhanced senses.

 

He was still banqueting when Matea's screams finally ceased, causing him to pause, in thoughtful repose, before selecting the venison in poivrade.

 

* * *

 

The message came at dawn, abandoned on the doorstep like an unwanted impediment. Its envelope was a crispy ivory, in stark contrast to the yellowed paper inside, two off-whites against which the black of ink looked sinister. He read in silence, truly ignoring his food in a display of actual interest.

 

The message was simple in composition, if not particularly luculent, and what it offered was too salutary a proposition for Kaihoro Mutungakore to resist. In the light of noon's aureole, he traveled through the swampland of Le-Wahi, glorious in its emerald and chartreuse plantal cacophony. He stalked through the vines and looming foliage, stomach gnawing at the walls of his abdomen, silent and purposeful in his madness.

Edited June 14, 2014 by Kilgore Trout

[Onaku]

IC: Dia

"Not really? Most of my time has been divided into either making weapons, or having my partner carry me into the Onu-Wahi mines. Sometimes we'd deliver weapons to the Ta-Koro Guard, but I haven't come across a mask maker in the midst of that." Dia continued to push herself onwards, following an ever gradually overgrown path.

 

---------

 

IC: Qyntar

The toa of gravity had now finished his steak, licking his lips of any residue that was there. "Alright, when you're ready, just say the word."

Edited June 14, 2014 by Toa Onaku

[Observedhalo]

IC: Athiel

 

"Then let us go forth", said Athiel as he finished his steak. He stood us, and pushed his chair in. "Do you want a drink before going?"

[Onaku]

IC: Qyntar

"I'm not thirsty, and even if we don't have an actual schedule to follow, I'd like us to get moving again." Qyntar walked out of the inn, taking a deep whiff of the air, looking around at the koro with a wide smile on his face.

[otter]

OOC: Quote function doesn't work for me, for some reason. How odd.

IC:

"Honestly, Utu, I don't even know," I said, spreading my hands in a gesture of uncertainty. "I'm still trying to come up with a solution. I'm a little wary of high explosives, though; for all I know, if we damage the temple, we destroy whatever it was that was inside it." I shrugged, sighing.

"Hopefully we can figure out a way in, though; if I only had the krillactum the marks were made out of, I could try and test a few theories I have."

[Void Emissary]

 

IC:

 

The night was pierced by the mounted lightstones of the homicide department.

 

The inspector peered down at the body, stoic amidst the bustle of constables with notepads and SOCOs with magnifying glasses. Her face was impassive, save for the quiet despair in her eyes.

 

...

 

His cigarette held between smiling lips, the Vortixx peered down at the letter held casually in his hand. Yellow light spilled out onto his desk from the corner lamp, the only source of luminescence his office had to offer, flashing against his signet ring, saturating the already-discoloured pages he grasped, contrasting against the black ink within. The two pages, simply filled, made his heart beat fast in anticipation. He had always prided himself as a man of knowledge, and it was apparent that this letter held a great deal more knowledge than most. Knowledge is power, he intoned, and power is everything.

 

His thoughts were swiftly interrupted by the sounds of cracking. He jerked forward, his eyes flicking up fast enough to catch sight of the Toa opening his door. He remembered locking it, like always, from the inside.

 

"Mr. Derison," the Toa, half-obscured by the darkness, said, "having a nice read?"

 

Mr. Derison faltered for words. "Vena...."

 

"Indeed," Vena said, smiling, approaching his desk. "Did you get that name from the envelope of my letter? The mailing address of my apartment? The mouths of your thugs and robbers?"

 

"I d-don't know what you're--"

 

"You stole from me, Mr. Derison. You wound me."

 

"L-look, if it's about the l-letter, it's yours," he said, his knowledge and his power evaporating. "H-here, take it."

 

"I've already memorized it. But perhaps you should offer me money, instead? Or services? Power?"

 

"M-Ms. Vena--"

 

Mr. Derison fumbled for something, anything, that could save him; but Vena, now inches from his desk, reached out and took him by the throat, smiling sweetly as the Vortixx now fumbled for breath instead.

 

"I can see in your eyes that those would be your next moves. But such prizes are nothing but trinkets in the grand universe. You have wounded my pride, and I, in need of recompense, want yours in return."

 

Mr. Derison gurgled, tears streaming down his face as his brain struggled against the blind panic that embraced it as tight as the Toa's hand on his neck.

 

"But I see now that there is no pride to take from you," Vena whispered, her breath like ash and salt. "So perhaps I'll just take your life."

 

...

 

Deep in the heart of the jungle, a shadowy figure stood before the waters of the swamp. A signet ring twirled between her fingers, and with a twitch of her arm, it disappeared into the dark waters like it had never existed. She smiled sweetly, like an angel, and whispered something about a debt repaid, before walking on.

 

...

 

"Arith Derison. Vortixx, male, probably middle-aged. Multiple burns to the face and neck area, lacerations across the chest and arms. Initial views suggest some sort of blunt knife, maybe a letter opener; the fact that they were made before the stab wounds suggests some, uh, advanced interrogation took place, probably. He wasn't killed here, that's for sure. Looks to have been hurled from his office window, four stories up. Bad stuff."

 

The inspector simply nodded, numbly. "Yeah, guess so."

 

Slowly, she looked up, away from the body, away from the message, towards a sky of darkness, cold stars, and uncaring gods.

 

Meanwhile, Vyartha Vena dusted her hands, scattering the last embers of a lost-and-found letter, and looked down at the black monolith which stood amidst the ruins of a Rama Hive.

 

...

 

-Void

[otter]

IC:

"Hey, Komae, what do you think our chances are of ever getting out of this jungle?" Beosach asked, hacking at the overgrown plantlife around him. "Because I'm starting to think we haven't got much of one."

[Palm]

OOC: Quote function doesn't work for me, for some reason. How odd.

 

IC:

 

"Honestly, Utu, I don't even know," I said, spreading my hands in a gesture of uncertainty. "I'm still trying to come up with a solution. I'm a little wary of high explosives, though; for all I know, if we damage the temple, we destroy whatever it was that was inside it." I shrugged, sighing.

 

"Hopefully we can figure out a way in, though; if I only had the krillactum the marks were made out of, I could try and test a few theories I have."

 

IC: Utu Kotore - Le-Wahi - Kumu-Islet Sea

 

My heart sank. I had hoped that this group had managed to find a way to liberate me already. I sighed while nodding solemnly. I had been given life, and now there was a chance I could never live it. I didn't know what it meant to be in a world without the Kotore's (minus one).

 

I stood up, my eyes fixed on the waters ahead, "So if I'm the only one left, and we can't break inside, it would mean making more wouldn't it?" I glanced back to the doctor, "Where could we find this 'krillactum'?"

[otter]

IC:

"So far as I know," I began, "The only person who had any of the metal anywhere was the person whose wonderful idea it was to give us all the Marks in the first place - a most-likely mad Toa of Magnetism by the name of Echelon, if my memory is correct. But I've no idea where he would've hidden any of it, and without that knowledge I'll be hard pressed to find it."

[GSR]

IC: Komae

 

"Hm." The other Matoran rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he ducked under a hanging branch, smacked into another one, and then ducked under that one as well. "It does feel like we've been here a while, hasn't it? But hey, no reason to get discouraged! Sooner or later we'll run into something. If it's a village, we're all good! If it's another traveler, we're probably good! If it's a Rahi, we might die. Or it might, and then we get food! Which is also good."

Edited June 16, 2014 by GSR

[otter]

IC:

 

"Or we'll run into a patch of quicksand and start to sink. Not good." Beosach lifted his axe, striking out at some unoffending vines and branches that were in his way that could probably have just been moved off to the side. "Really, Komae, there's any number of not-good things that could happen to us out here, and a very, very small number of good things. So unless you have some ability to locate civilization or we're just extremely lucky, we're probably going to have a bit of trouble here soon."

[GSR]

IC: Komae

 

Komae chortled. "Oh you of little faith. Besides, how many times have I said it now? No point in worrying about all the awful things that might happen - they're just facts of life. I mean, that's practically what Matoran are for - someone's got to fall into quicksand sooner or later, or else nobody'd ever worry about it."

 

He gave a theatrical sigh. "Buuuuut- if you really want to play the luck card instead, stop and listen for a moment."

 

It wasn't easy to hear over the clicks and hums of the jungle or the breath of the wind through the leaves, but it was there. Snatches of conversation, clanks of hammer against wood - the rhythm of civilization.

 

The merchant grinned. "Kind of fits, doesn't it? I mean, getting shipwrecked is pretty awful luck. Too awful for a pair of average folks, so only makes sense that we'd have the good luck to find a village before we die, right?"

[otter]

IC:

"That's not how luck normally works, Komae," Beosach growled, before striking out in the direction of where he, too, now heard civilization being civilized. His axe swung again and again, cleaving through thick foliage, large amounts of vines, and annoyingly grown branches. After a few more minutes of that he and his partner in business (barely better than crime) managed to come out into a large clearing in which sat a small village.

 

"...That isn't Le-Koro."

[Palm]

IC:

 

"So far as I know," I began, "The only person who had any of the metal anywhere was the person whose wonderful idea it was to give us all the Marks in the first place - a most-likely mad Toa of Magnetism by the name of Echelon, if my memory is correct. But I've no idea where he would've hidden any of it, and without that knowledge I'll be hard pressed to find it."

 

IC: Utu Kotore - Kumu Islets Sea

 

I gave a low humph, "Got any other ideas?"

[Eyru]

IC (Cael)

 

"Aren't the Marks made of krillactum?"

 

Cael frowned in thought, trying the pieces in her mind, seeing how and if they fit together.

 

"This Mark is producing poison somehow, in a way I've never seen. Could it be some chemical reaction that has something to do with the krillactum. Perhaps... it could even be producing its own?"

[Palm]

IC: Utu Kotore - Kumu Islets Sea

Utu gave Cael a look, "Do you think we can use my blood to make more of this stuff?" I glanced down at my arms, the subtle purple hue of my poisoned veins appeared under my skin, "How much of it would we even need?"

[otter]

IC:

 

"More than I would consider safe to draw from you," I growled. "It would take far too long to get any suitable amount of krillactum from your blood if we tried to be safe about it or if we threw caution to the wind...Though I almost wonder whether simply splashing your blood on the door might work." I frowned, leaning back in my seat.

 

"A little fantastical, to be sure, but that temple didn't make much sense, and I don't doubt that there might be more than one way to open it than that which we already learned worked. As for whether or not the idea I just put forth might work...Well, no way to learn other than to try."

[Palm]

IC: Utu Kotore - Kumu Islets Seas

 

I gave a wary glance, but with earnest eyes, "...OK... If that's what you want to try, then by all means," I shrugged, "I don't exactly have many options."

[Observedhalo]

IC: Akura

 

Dried blood caked his blade. He had never bothered to clean it off. A monument to all his sins, a contestant reminder of what he had done. The screams, the pleas, the freshly gleaned blood splattering on the stone walls. He took it all in, and he smiled.

 

There had been a letter in his cloak when he recovered it. It was unsigned, but he knew the place where it told him to go well. Once read, he reduced it to ash with a nearby torch. By the time he left, his cloak was dyed red.

 

Sometimes later, he arrived in Le-Wahi.The ominous remains of the Rama Hive stood tall as a dark reminder of our past, but also that evil could be defeated. Evil has never stayed down, has it? As he approached, he noticed a few others had already arrived.

 

OOC: Akura is a pre existing character, so this isn't an introduction.

Edited June 18, 2014 by Observedhalo

[otter]

IC:

 

While Kaihoro was able to stalk through the foliage of the jungle, using his powers if necessary to move various plants out of his way, the man travelling with him - a Toa of Stone, short in height but rather large in presence and strength - could not do so. He, instead, had a machete that he had taken from one of the guards at Mr. Muntungakore's residence in his hand, and a small wood axe that he'd taken from the armoury at his belt; his own battle axe was currently hanging from a baldric, ready to be unslung and used if need came for it. He was chopping his way through the vines and foliage, every so often snipping off some flower or leaf that he knew that his employer would like to have for his cooking, and he deposited it in a small satchel he wore.

 

For multiple miles the pair continued along like this, until, suddenly, the Toa of Stone thrust out his arm, holding its machete, in Kaihoro's way, stopping the Toa of Plantlife immediately. While any other man would take this as a threat, Kaihoro would likely know better; this man had been in his employ long enough that he had long since proven his loyalty and ability. The Toa of Stone, paying no attention to the man he had just stopped, turned his head, and then pointed with his free hand.

 

"Watch where you're going," he said, his voice cold and flat. "There's a snake approximately one foot in front of you, the tail of which you very nearly stepped on." He turned his blazing eyes to Kaihoro, his face just as dead and expressionless as his voice.

 

"You aren't going to get bitten while I'm here."

[Simulacrum]

-IC:-

 

Kaihoro stared at the Toa of Stone with a mixture of amusement and understated admiration of his usefulness, his acutely chromatic eyes slowly changing hues from a marginally surprised red to the disconcerting tranquility of calm, sunrise orange. Remaining silent, Kaihoro's gaze turned back to the serpent, pausing momentarily in quiet contemplation, before he reached out, grasping the hissing Bog Snake by the back of its caput, preventing it from attacking in response. Its hissing grew more frantic, its movements panicked, as he brought it level to his face, apparently unbothered by the fact only a few decimeters remained betwixt the Rahi and his countenance. Eyes granitic and mouth tightened in a disconcerting faux smile, Kaihoro grasped the serpent's tail, and brought it to his lips, still peering into the terrified eyes of the writhing serpent. Kaihoro opened the ravenous abyss that was his mouth, slowly feeding the quaking tail onto his tounge, and then, his action accompanied by the sickening sound of breaking bones, he snapped his teeth shut, closing his jaw with vice-like force.

 

The snake's hissing grew more panicked, even as its writhing became furious, but the clamped cage of Kaihoro's hand held it still as it was consumed, centimeter by agonising centimeter. The once-clamorous forest seemed unusually quiet, save for the horrible sound of flesh, scales, and bone being gnawed and consumed. By the time the Rahi finally died, little more than the head remained, which Mutungakore gently inserted into his oral cavity with the elegance of an aristocrat enjoying delicacies. Finished, he nodded at Tur Auras with the ungodly, inharmonious smile, and then resumed his striding through the Le-Wahi's diverse flora, all of which parted ceremoniously to allow his passing.

 

He arrived soon after at the black monolith of the Suva Nui, followed shortly by the machete-wielding Tur Auras. Instead of speaking, he choose a nearby fallen tree as a seat, tranquilly staring silently at his fellow Toa with the twin discomposing orbs of consuming flame inserted within his skull, more reminiscent of raging stars than mere eyes. Around him, the trees and other plantal organisms twisted to form a comfortable rest for his back, allowing him to repose with the extravagant elegance of an emperor observing a farcical theatrical composition, created in his honor, performed solely for his amusement.

Edited June 17, 2014 by Kilgore Trout

[otter]

IC:

 

Tur sheathed the machete, setting it and the wood axe both down beside him, and then he unsheathed his battle axe, leaning on it almost as though it were a cane - and even in his seemingly relaxed state his eyes slowly roamed over the area around himself and his charge, ever wary, always searching for some sign of danger. Tur Auras was no stranger to danger; his life had always been dangerous, and it had grown even more so in recent years. But, as one who had been born into danger and brought peace and order out of it, there was one thing that Tur Auras was proficient at more than any other thing.

 

Eliminating danger.

 

As his eyes passed over the surrounding landscape, he saw, quite clearly, two different beings - one female, one male, each with a semblance of familiarity with both their bodies and weapons that indicated that they were warriors. Regardless of any training, they were warriors. Mentally, he catalogued both of them as a threat. Should he have to fight them, he would have to rely on Kaihoro's aid for a short part of it - there was little in the terrain to be used against them, without some extra manipulation. He turned his thoughts back to the man he was here to protect, opening his mouth to speak again.

 

"How was your snack?" His voice, again, was cold and flat, a monotone that was threatening in how it conveyed the complete lack of humanity and caring the speaker held for any of the beings around him other than the one he was assigned to protect. Should anybody threaten that man, or attack him, or attack the speaker, he would prove it to be the voice of the harbinger of death.

[Akavakaku]

IC Jrahann:

 

Jrahann didn't understand the reference Asuno made, and felt slightly left out as an outsider to the island. "Some who wannabe? 'Makuta?'"

As they continued, Jrahann turned her head, trying to find some sign of their destination.

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

Dust and ash scattered into the air as Vyartha strode across the plains of the hive ruins. Her blue eyes, imperious even in the dark of the night, flicked from one arrival to the next: three Toa, all male, two of them evidently warriors, though the third's nature was more difficult to ascertain; his dress seemed to suggest a position of affluence in society and his matchstick physique was hardly the type to last long in a battle. The other two, however, were so evidently of the warrior's breed that it seemed ludicrous to conceive a contradictory notion.

 

She came to a halt, crossing her arms across her chest as a smirk alighted her face.

 

"Quite the party we have here, isn't it?"

 

-Void

[Observedhalo]

IC:Akura

 

Akura quietly entered the ruins, close enough to hear the female Toa's comment. "I don't see any party here. Do you", he snarked in reply. He leaned against a remaining piece of wall, studying the others. "All Toa, a sight not uncommon. Formidable to be sure, but can they work together as a team", he thought to himself.

Edited June 18, 2014 by Observedhalo

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"Poor man," Vyartha cooed, walking towards the white Toa, "do they not have wit where you come from?"

 

-Void

[Simulacrum]

-IC:-

 

Kaihoro had merely stared at Tur in response to his question, eyes subdued and disdainful; his mood, as the Toa of Stone knew well, was extremely aleatory. Where quiet appreciation had been, now only contempt remained, radiating silently from within the spheres of flame. His countenance proclaimed that business was at hand, and that Tur knew well that it would be wise to stay silent and watchful, acting only with Kaihoro's explicit permission.

 

Kaihoro's deranged gaze transfered from his guard to the others with disquieting deliberation and unhurriedness, swivelling tardily to and from each speaker's face. He remained silent as the Ta-Toa cooed and began walking towards the Ko-Toa, his grey, angular visage momentarily impassive; any interest piqued by this meeting was certainly not of a calibre great enough to persuade Kaihoro into prevention of the two's quarreling. After all, if any violence ensued, there were ways he could profit, regardless of the conflict's momentary victor.

Edited June 18, 2014 by Kilgore Trout

[otter]

IC:

 

Had he been capable of the action, Tur would have sighed. His own question had been a calculated attempt to make it seem that he and Kaihoro wouldn't be much of a threat; talk to each other, and eventually those around, as though everything was normal...and those slowly coming near them might begin to lower their guard, if even slightly. As he noticed the contempt radiating from Kaihoro, his own fiery eyes began to flare brighter, his cool exterior almost beginning to thaw until he clamped down on his inner urges, preventing himself from letting himself loose.

 

Not when others are near.

 

Tur returned to his contemplation of the area around; should the two Toa near himself and Kaihoro begin to battle with each other, he was currently standing in between them and Kaihoro. That was good. He already had his axe unsheathed and ready for use should it be needed, and most likely his stance and weaponry portrayed him as a skilled warrior. Should the Ko-Toa and the Ta-Toa begin to fight, hopefully they would each be intelligent enough to stay away from Kaihoro - for while Kaihoro might look upon their fighting as a business opportunity, Tur looked upon it as a potential threat. And if that potential was realized, Tur would have to eliminate the threat...no matter what his employer's preference may be.

 

But for now, he would have to play the quiet, humble servant. Being a quiet, humble servant required that he be quiet; so quiet he would be. If Kaihoro wanted to observe and wanted him to observe, so be it.

[Observedhalo]

IC:Akura

 

He decided to not respond to impotent response from the Toa, feeling it would be better to not further increase the possibilities of hostilities. However, Akura noticed the peeved off Ta-Toa approaching quickly, but decided it would be wise to stay his blade and attempt to avoid further conflict. "We aren't worth anything dead. Our employer view us as a set, and as much as you would like to think otherwise, a set is worth nothing without every piece."

Edited June 18, 2014 by Observedhalo

[Ssendam the Masked]

Ic:

 

"True, I am out of practice..." The reveler mused, "but the leader of the pack has to make sure everything is in order, yes?"

 

IC: Borzhov.

 

Borzhov was lost, hungry, and thirsty. These three things made him a very irritable Skakdi, trooping sullenly through the jungle.

"Go to biggest tree, guide said. Bah. Is only one big tree in sight. And it does not look like famous Koro of Air."

Such were his grumblings as he trooped through the forest. The large tree he was going to did not really seem that much larger, but it was there. It was big, and it was the only big tree he'd really seen.

 

The fairly large group he saw outside of it was interesting- what looked like a pair of Toa and some fellow Skakdi. One of them was on the ground, clearly knocked out. That was fairly normal for a Skakdi meeting, so he paid it no mind. Nevertheless, he slipped on his trusty Thumpers, large gauntlets that covered his upper forearms. The heavily armoured knuckles were whittled down to a crude point, perfect for smashing through armour and piercing flesh. He chuckled darkly, before ploughing through the trees.

 

"Greetings, fellow travellers. I am looking for, how you say, the Koro. Is this it?"

He examined their stances. Obviously combatants.

"Or should I not even ask?"

[25K Now!]

IC: Kunitu

 

"So."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Blugh.

 

If only I had the resolve to puke up some seawater. I could feel it swishing around in my gut, salty and toxic, but I had spent months vomiting from bourbon and usage and poisons most foul, and apparently my stomach thought that a little bit of the Kanae Bay was a step up in the world. I heard Praggos and Cael fumbling about for a gameplan, just outside the door. Tuara was singularly, notably silent. Guilt roared up in my chest; the seawater began to boil into steam, clouding my vision and throbbing in my head. All for Utu. No, that wasn't right, surely someone shared my ambivalence whether he lived or died. Joske. All for Joske.

 

The dark sword on the bed gleamed its approval. "Oh, shut up," I muttered, throwing it over my back and nudging the door open with a foot. I didn't want to sit anywhere near Utu - it was him I had to blame for this migraine, after all - and perched up on the rail.

 

-Tyler