Jump to content

Bzprpg - Ko-Wahi

Friar Tuck

Recommended Posts

IC:Kai ~Escaping Prison?~


He wants to talk privately. Or, that's what he wants me to think. His body language indicates that he believes me, but is this because he works for... them,(I seriously need to name them. The Piraka? Nah, too mainstream...) or because he's realized that I'm telling the truth and wants to know more? Either way, whoever this guy is, I can't read him, and thus I don't trust him. "You were willing to kill me just a few seconds ago. I'd like to keep my armor, if only to make sure that I have a chance to be alive once this conversation is over." It was a reasonable request. In Kai's mind at least...

"I'll do it... If that is the choice of Stein's Gate!

I am the mad scientist, Hououin Kyouma!

Fooling the world is nothing to me!"

Link to comment
Share on other sites

IC: (Alrin)


"Hmm, fine you can keep your armor, but you're not keeping your weapons." Drop them and walk back to your cell, I'll be following." I replied. "Maybe I decided I'd like to hear you out, when we aren't pointing weapons at each other. By the way, I won't be bringing weapons in. So you can trust me not shot you or stab you in the neck." Dangerous manuver? Yes. Necessary if I wanted to find out more? Definitely, he wasn't telling me everything and he still regarded me with distrust. Fine, I trusted him as far as I could throw him. I didn't need his complete trust, only a little so we could properly talk.


Link to comment
Share on other sites

IC: Ronkshou – Ko-Wahi, near the Massif – Afternoon


Ronkshou’s eyes widened in surprise as he tried to exert his strength and break the crystal bar, his now slashed and tattered coat billowing in the wind.


It was no use. Not even Ronkshou’s strength was a match for the unrelenting crystal.


Deep within the dark, brick chamber, a battered and bloodied man was lying on his stomach. Only the calm rising and falling of his abdomen indicated that this man had any life in him. Behind him, rusted metal bars lined the gate of his prison. No light and no sound were allowed to enter this realm.


Then, however, the scrawny man felt something.


It was a gentle rumbling. The man could feel the dust fall upon his naked back and the concrete floor shift under him.


It was the first of any sort of stimulation that the man had, and it made his mind wonder.


What was going on out there?


Ronkshou did not growl, nor did he become angry. The turn of events did, however, confuse the Infected Toa, not unlike how a machine responds to bad input.


Ronkshou was one of the Makuta’s most powerful servants – only Heuani exceeded his power and skill. If this was not the case, then the Makuta would not have sent him. Never had he lost a fight, never had he had to wonder what about the next move.


There was no pre-planned response or defense, and Antrim was able to match many of Ronkshou’s qualities. He was even fast enough to notice his electrical blast and block it. Now, the Infected Toa would have to venture into uncharted territory, and pit strength and power against strength and power.


No more tricks – it was time to end this fight.


Ronkshou let go of his Proto-Knuckles and tossed them up into the air. When they came back down, Ronkshou grabbed the crystal part with his rugged and dense right hand. Finally, Ronkshou tossed the could-be staff behind him, landing into the snow with a soft crunch. While Ronkshou could have found another use for them, it was out of his element. This wasn’t the time to experiment – he had to go for the sure thing.


Atrim and Ronkshou went at it once again. Ronkshou ran up to the large Toa and pushed himself into the air. Two more lightning bolts shot from Ronkshou’s exposed hands, but instead of sticking to their original trajectory, the two bolts circled around and curved towards Antrim’s back. Unfortunately, Antrim decided to use his Kualsi this time. He raised his greatsword over his head and moved several feet forward and was now behind Ronkshou. Ronkshou had considered a possible teleportation-attack, but there was little that his overclocked mind could do about a multifront attack. He whirled around to face Antrim and activate his Hau. Antrim then cleverly stepped to the side, sword still and the air, allowing Ronkshou to be hit in the back by his own element. The green faze dissipated as Ronkshou flew forward and introduced his face to the snow.


Impossible! The thought raced through Ronkshou mind and even coursed through his veins. The word had filled his very core.


Makuta had built him to win; he controlled his thoughts and actions. So why wasn’t he winning?


Down below, in the darkest pits of one’s consciousness, the bearded and atrophied man remained in his belly. He exerted all the strength he could gather in order to rotate his neck upwards. Once his mouth was unblocked by the dark gray floor, he could see the glaring red eyes of the Jailer in the distance – the only source of light in this chamber.


The Jailer thought that he had removed the prisoner’s ability to form words, but with the right conviction, and all of his strength, the weak Toa could do anything. With his strength and mind dwindling, he could only rasp one word before he was forced to rest again.





Ronkshou rolled over regained his footing before Antrim could exploit his moment of vulnerability. He dodged the large sword that threatened to cut him in two, and the large Toa brought the sword up right again. Determined to get Antrim back on the defensive, Ronkshou lunged and did a spinning kick.




Metal met metal as Ronkshou’s kick was utterly rejected by the might of the flat end of Antrim’s blade. Ronkshou fell on his back and instinctively rolled to his right, jumping back onto his feet within a split second. He raised his exposed hands and continued his fighting stance, his apparatus pulsating as he panted.


IC: Vidar – Ko-Wahi, near the Massif – Afternoon


It took but a few lengthy strides across the icy field (this time avoiding the fresh mounds of snow from the avalanche) for Vidar to catch a glimpse of the Pa-Matoran. His prey, ever so aware and perceptive, felt a dark, warning feeling. His grey eyes darted upwards towards the approaching monster. Vidar’s Parakuka had been activated for about five minutes at this point, and the monster still had plenty of strength and speed to go.


“Well, well, well,” Vidar hissed, a hint of curiosity in his eyes, “You look familiar… have I seen you before? In the desert, perhaps?”


Vidar reached behind and took his out Claw Staff, he then held it with both hands and pointed the sharp end towards Stannis’ throat.


“Oh well, makes no difference,” the Dark Toa hissed.


The next sequence of events happened to quickly and so unexpectedly that only the truly lost (such as Vidar and Ronkshou) could deny Destiny’s role.


A few yards away, Ronkshou shot fist after fist, while sprinkling in some deft kicks. As was inevitable, Ronkshou’s opponent was starting to learn his skillset. Ronkshou’s fighting style and moves were designed for quick and dirty victories; too many rounds in the ring with Ronkshou and a particularly observant Toa could do was Ronkshou was so good at doing: instinctive prediction of moves. Now, all Antrim needed was time.


Of course, that never comes easy.


Antrim’s realization that he would like eventually win caused his gaze to momentarily shift over Ronkshou’s head to Stannis, perhaps seeking a final bout of motivation or maybe seeking to give Stannis one. In any case, he saw the tall, vile, lime-green creature taunting the one he swore to protect.


A second combatant admittedly complicated things, but Antrim did not worry – he only thought about his mission. That Rahkshi had to be stopped. Ronkshou attempted a left hook to the momentarily distracted Toa, but Antrim quickly darted to the right and bashed the side of Ronkshou’s head with the flat of his blade. It took but a few steps for Antrim’s sword to cover the distance between him and Vidar’s head. He swung with all his might at the preoccupied Rahkshi.


“Vidar!” roared Ronkshou, who meanwhile ran through how he missed and then turned around while holding his gaze on Antrim.


The Rahkshi held but the first syllable before his mind kicked into high gear and assumed there was an impending attack. He violently moved his head backwards, sensing an incoming speeding object, but it did little help. Yes, Vidar’s head would remain attached to his body, but a deep, diagonal cut forced across the Rahkshi’s face.


The wound was dangerously deep, less than a centimeter from Vidar’s skull. The Rahkshi screamed at the top of his lungs and dropped his staff, shoving his arms upwards and holding his hands to his face.


“MY FACE!” Vidar cried in a cross between a hiss and a howl, “AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”


The Dark Toa-Rahkshi staggered backwards, and Antrim could now hear the rushed thudding of Ronkshou’s armored feet. Antrim’s sword was now touching the snow, in a ripe position to move in an upward diagonal position. Exerting his strength, he spun and brought the edge of his sword upwards in a move that would have decapitated Ronkshou.


The Infected Toa saw the deft move take palce and return to pick up his connected Proto-Knuckles. Maybe something new was in order after all?


Ronkshou analyzed the Toa’s position and as soon as he began to bring the sword up, Ronkshou fell to his knees and slid across the slick snow patch. However, he was not low enough – he inwardly growled as a small piece of his infected mask (no more than an inch in diameter) was chipped off. The Infected Toa, still holding his tools, crashed into his wounded companion, sending them both off the slick, icy surface and into the mounds of snow that Vidar was careful to avoid.


The combined weight of Ronkshou centuries-old brawn and Vidar’s larger frame made them sink into the soft snow not unlike before. All the while, Vidar screamed and wailed with a voice that was enhanced just as much as his strength and speed, summoning more loose snow to fall on top of the duo.


The entire chain of events had taken place in less than a minute, and now the Destiny’s favored was presented with a choice: try and finish off the duo, or take the time allotted to them and rescue the other two Matoran, as well as the black Essence Stone that laid untouched in the snow.


OOC: From the time I posted the Kongu post to now, take away about 15 minutes. That's about how much time I took writing this doozy.


Excuse me while I go make dinner.

"hey girl: here’s an idea, but… it’s up to you:

You’re the boss of this operation."

[BZPRPG Profile] [Ghosts of Bara Magna Profile]


Link to comment
Share on other sites

IC: (Alrin) "Hmm, fine you can keep your armor, but you're not keeping your weapons." Drop them and walk back to your cell, I'll be following." I replied. "Maybe I decided I'd like to hear you out, when we aren't pointing weapons at each other. By the way, I won't be bringing weapons in. So you can trust me not shot you or stab you in the neck." Dangerous manuver? Yes. Necessary if I wanted to find out more? Definitely, he wasn't telling me everything and he still regarded me with distrust. Fine, I trusted him as far as I could throw him. I didn't need his complete trust, only a little so we could properly talk.

IC Thliveros"???"At first, Thliveros was confused. But then, he was like "Oh". Alrin had to have a plan; whatever it was, Thliveros was certain Alrin would take care of it.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

IC (Oreius)


The last thing Oreius saw was a fuzzy white face peering anxiously down at him. The figure muttered something, but the Ta-Matoran couldn't make out the words. He was falling, falling, down an endless hole in the ground, the snow caving out from beneath him as he plunged into the earth, the white blur of sky and snow compressing into a single point of light infinitely far above him.


Then, suddenly, he wasn't falling anymore. He was hovering, floating in and endless void. He looked up, down, and spun around, but could see nothing. The only thing that remained was the speck of light far above, casting a faint spotlight on him and him alone.


It was just him and the infinite darkness.


Where was he? No matter where he looked, he couldn't get his bearings; the only point of reference was the pinpoint of white he'd fallen from.


Why had he fallen? Oreius strained to remember, but all he could think of was a hazy picture of a white expanse... snow tumbling down a hillside... a Toa standing beside a frozen Ko-Matoran... the same Toa smashing him over and over into the ground... a scream...


Oreius' eyes opened wide as it all came back to him: the fight with the Ko-Toa, his subsequent beating and the breaking of his body, and the Ko-Toa's scream as the Essence Stone seared his arm with the heat of a thousand suns.


The Ta-Matoran checked himself; he was fine. Not only fine, actually, but completely and utterly whole. His burns, bumps and bruises were gone; the injuries that had been spilling his blood onto the snow had vanished. His muscles were sound and not sore; his head was as clear as Naho Bay on a calm, still day.


What was this? Was this just a dream... or... no, it couldn't be...


Was he dead?


The possibility hit Oreius like a punch from a Tarakava. He gasped, fighting to contain his panic, struggling simply to breathe and not suffocate under the weight of this terrible fate.


So... this was it, then. He was dead. The Ta-Matoran allowed himself to relax, floating there in the infinite void. There wasn't anything he could do to change it, so he might as well accept it. Destiny... the word calmed him, soothed him, like the cool embrace of the ocean.


This was destiny. That meant it was good; that meant it was right. Mata Nui had not chosen him after all, but he hadn't let that stop him from being a hero. The last memory he had was of a blurry white face looking down on him. Korero? If, with his last breath, Oreius had managed to save the Ko-Matoran's life, then he was hero, Chosen or not.


He smiled wearily, at peace, because that was all he'd ever wanted. From the very beginning, all he'd wanted was to protect his homeland. That was all he could ask for, and Mata Nui, in his wisdom and grace, had granted his request. He had granted the Matoran the honour of dying for his people, and Oreius could ask for now more than that.


Abruptly, the former Guard became aware of a faint brightening in the void, to his right. He turned, and looked into the endless darkness, and saw a point of light identical to the one the shone far above him, bathing him in cool white light.


The point of light shone on him, then expanded, growing to a perfect circle bigger than the Matoran It bathed him in white light, making him squint, but he was still able to see enough to notice when a figure appeared in the centre of the light.


The figure was Toa-shaped, but was silhouetted against the circle of light, its features impossible to identify, however hard Oreius tried. It stepped forward, walking on a path of light, coming closer and closer until it blocked enough of the light so that the Matoran could open his eyes and make out the man that stood before him.


The Toa's colours were predominantly brilliant red, the red of lava and the sunet and of fire. His eyes shone behind a Hau much like Oreius' own, only larger and with large slits cut in the cheeks, giving it a fierce appearance.


The Toa held a long blade loosely in his right hand. It was not a straight sword, like most, instead curving from side to side and narrowing to a point, imitating a leaping flame. Suddenly, the imitation became reality, and the blade was consumed in a blaze of fire, striking the Ta-Matoran with a wave of heat and lighting up the Toa's face in a shower of sparks.


Tahu, Toa of Fire.


Though he was floating in midair, Oreius was somehow able to get down on one knee and bow before the Toa of Fire. He didn't question it; he was dead, after all, and he was too full of awe and fear to bother trying to understand how it worked.


He clasped on arm across his chest, and bowed his head.


“My lord.”


Looking up, he saw the Toa was smiling, though his wasn't a mirthful smile. It was serious expression; he smiled to show his approval of Oreius' gesture, not to express joy.


“Rise, Oreius,” he said at last. His voice was rich and deep, full of fire and passion even when speaking calmly.


The Matoran obeyed, standing to his feet before his hero.


“You have fought your way through water and ice,” Tahu said proudly. “You have defeated your fear, and sacrificed yourself for your friends. Yes, you are indeed worthy to wield my power. Mata Nui was right to choose you.”


Oreius was speechless; here was the legendary First Toa of Fire, and he was commending him, a mere Matoran, on his feeble efforts to bring peace back to the island. It was too much to understand, real or imagined.


“But... my lord,” he managed. “I... I failed, didn't I? I'm not Chosen; the Toa killed me, didn't he?”


Tahu laughed, a rich, rolling chuckle that rolled forth like magma bursting from the rock.


“Dead? No, Oreius. You won. You defeated that frosty excuse for a Toa, and you did it with honour and courage.”


The Ta-Matoran shook his head in bewilderment. “Then... where am I?”


“You're at a crossroads, Oreius.”


These words were not Tahu's; the Toa was suddenly gone. The new voice was soft and smooth, rich and velvety as wine, filling the Ta-Matoran with equal amounts of horror and ravenous desire. He turned, and was barely able to make out a figure standing on his left opposite where Tahu had stood.


What little he could see of the figure was smooth, sinuous black, darker than shadows. The light falling from far above allowed him to make out a lithe, supple body, an elegant, shapely mask, and eyes that seemed to pierce into the very soul.


“A crossroads,” the new Toa repeated. “Between many things.”


Oreius attempted to back away, but he was frozen in time and space, floating in the endless void as the dark Toa slowly circled him.


“Between life and death,” he breathed into the Matoran's ear. “Between strength and weakness, between leading and following.”


A soft, slender hand cupped Oreius' chin, and forced the Matoran to stare directly into the chilling eyes.


“You're not dead, Oreius. No, you're still alive; more alive than you've ever been, in fact.”


The eyes were cold and glassy, like those of a corpse. They filled Oreius with an icy fear that he hadn't felt even when fighting the Toa of Ice in the wastes of Ko-Wahi, as though every exhalation let out a lungful of energy, sapping his heat and life into the dark void.


“Alive because you can see. Even Stannis can't see like this. Compared to you, he is blind.”


Abruptly the Toa released his hold on Oreius, and warmth flooded back into the Matoran's body as -suddenly able to move again- he collapsed into the fetal position, gasping in shock.


“Blind because he doesn't understand, Oreius, like you do. He sees destiny as an inescapable force, and he tolerates everything as Mata Nui's will.”


Oreius was looking down into the endless expanse of darkness, and watched as the Toa walked in a circle around him, defying the laws of gravity. There were no laws here, after all.


“What about Aurax?” the Toa asked.


The Ta-Matoran's muscles tightened as the familiar wave of anger and grief washed over him, as it did every time he heard Aurax's name. He could accept destiny's choices for his own life; he could walk the path Mata Nui set before him even if it led to his own death; but he still could not swallow the idea that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't save everyone.


Aurax had died, and would have died no matter what they did. Even if Oreius could travel back in time and revisit the scene, even if he did it a hundred times, there was nothing he could do that would change destiny's decision.


“Isn't it wrong?” The Toa whispered, voicing the very thoughts that were spinning around Oreius' mind. “Isn't it so terribly unfair that Mata Nui would call you to such a high standard... and then plan for you to fall?”


Yes, Oreius thought. These were the doubts and fears he had been wrestling with since the Cy-Matoran's death. If destiny were such an all-powerful force, then why did it call for the destruction of the very heroes it chose? If it were not all-powerful, then why could its edicts not be disobeyed?


“Oh, but they can,” the Toa breathed huskily, appearing to read his mind again. “They can be disobeyed, but only by those who can see.


“You could be a hero, Oreius. The hero who defied destiny's cruel hand and built his own future for the island, a future of peace and prosperity, untouched by prophecy or fate.”


Abruptly, the darkness below Oreius contracted into a single point and then vanished, replaced by a view of a sprawling city, lit by the glow of the late afternoon sun. The golden light caused everything to glow, every spire sparkling clean and bright, every dome shining.


Lofty cathedrals towered over the roads and walkways, their walls built of precious metals and stained glass. Sections of the city were composed merely of green parks and forests, the delicate beauty of the flora intermingled with urban elegance.


Matoran and Toa walked the streets of the city together; Skakdi and Vortixx strolled in the parks without squabbling or scrapping. There was no violence to be seen anywhere; there was no war; there was nothing but peace and beauty as far as the eye could see.


“This,” the Toa said softly. “Is what Mata Nui could be.”


They were standing inside one of the cathedrals, the setting sun setting the stained glass windows afire, bathing Matoran and Toa in coloured light.


Oreius could easily see the Toa now. He was slim but muscled, and attractive in every way. His armour was not black anymore, but a deep, dark crimson, accented in jet. His mask was unfamiliar, and the eyes that shone out of it sparked with a deep flame.


“Who... who are you?” Oreius asked.


“I,” the Toa replied with a mirthless smile. “Am who you could be.”


The Ta-Matoran gaped at the Toa, then suddenly realized that something was off: he was looking the Toa in the eyes. He looked down at his body, and a jolt of surprise ran through him as he saw that he, too was a Toa.


His armour, like the Toa's, was scarlet, but brighter, and it lacked the black accents. He was several feet taller now, well muscled and trim, the ideal hero in every way.


Matoran clamoured at his feet, kneeling and scraping before him, begging his blessing, crying his praise. He was the Peacemaker, the Makutaslayer, the Lightbringer. He had turned from destiny and instead gone his own way, and in doing so had brought peace and life to the island. No longer crippled by the Prophecy, he was free to strike the Makuta down.


A jagged black stone broke through the cathedral floor, rising up until it nearly touched the ceiling. A pair of terrible eyes gleamed from its surface, watching Oreius maliciously. A sword appeared in his hand; it shone with a deadly light, flames flickering along its surface, destined to cleave the stone in two.


“It's your destiny,” the Toa urged. “You don't need the others; you can do this alone. They let Aurax die.”


The Chosen Toa burned with anger, his fingers clenching the hilt of the sword until they turned white. It was true: the others had let Aurax die. Stannis, with his blind adherence to the Prophecy, had let Aurax die. Takua, with his blind faith in Mata Nui's benevolence, had led the Cy-Matoran to his death. The Great Spirit himself, claiming to be kind and compassionate, had foretold his Chosen's death and then carried it out. He was a murderer.


“Oreius,” said a voice.


The former Guard looked up, and saw the familiar voice was coming from the largest and most beautiful stained glass window. It was a picture of Tahu, his sword held high, a noble expression on his face; the red glass stained the light as it passed through, covering Oreius in a haze of fire.


“Oreius,” the glass Tahu repeated. “You are Chosen. Chosen by the Great Spirit, and chosen by me. I gave you my power to use in unity; do not waste on your own schemes.”


The fiery light enveloped Oreius, but it did not harm him. The air grew unbearably hot, but he could still breathe. He breathed all the flames in, inhaling every last tongue of fire, every spark funnelling down his throat, filling him with power.


He glowed with power, now. His skin gave off a bright light, and his body burned with the heat of a thousand furnaces. Every breath let out a cloud of smoke; every movement set the floor below him ablaze.


The stone beneath his feet caught fire, and burned away, revealing an endless void of darkness. Oreius fell into the void, trailing flames like a shooting star, a soundless scream leaving his lips as he fell to infinity.


Tahu's rich, deep voice echoed all around him as he fell, his last words to the Chosen Toa.


“You must choose, Oreius. Destiny, or the Darkness.”


A pinprick of light appeared far below Oreius, but he was falling more rapidly than he could possibly know, and the speck quickly expanded into a vast expanse of white light.


And cold.


Gradually, the haze of light drifted into focus, and Oreius realized his was lying on his back in the snow, gazing at the sky.


His body was in agony, but he was not dead. No, and not dying either. Craning his neck, he attempted to look around, and with a burst of fear recognized Korero's still form lying near him on the snow.


The Ta-Matoran rolled over, gasping in pain, an empty glass orb falling unnoticed to the snow as he did so. He had been healed, it appeared, but was still very weak, as evidenced by difficulty he had in merely crawling over to the unconscious Ko-Matoran.


Thankfully, Korero was still alive. Faint clouds of vapour escaped from his mouth at regular intervals, making it easy to see that he was still breathing. Oreius sighed in relief, but refused to relax. There was still danger around. What about the other two servants of Makuta?


The first thing he saw, however, was more important to him than anything else.


The Essence Stone lay half-buried in the snow. Its heat expended in attacking Utu, it was no longer hot enough to melt through the snow and bury itself; without Oreius' touch or the threat of Makuta's grasping claws, it appeared once again to be nothing more than an ordinary stone.


His progress was achingly slow, but the former Guard managed to drag himself over to the Stone, which he picked up and clutched to his chest. The Stone responded to his touch with a brief flare of heat, comforting the Matoran, before cooling down to its usual slightly-warm temperature.


The Ta-Matoran still had the Stone, and he was still alive. Korero too, was not dead, and their enemy lay defeated in the snow. Destiny, it seemed, had decided to let them live, even in the face of insurmountable odds.


Oreius had been right not to be afraid.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Ooc: Very nice post! It was a fun read. :D


Ic: Antrim stood unsullied despite the pitiful semblance of the dark toa before him. The protector's cape bellowed in a fresh wind of the mountains, washing over him with the voice of Destiny whispering in his ears as the fair lady was whisked by. In his mind, he imagined the apparition visiting the matoran behind him, still unnamed to him but just as precious.


As if to verify his thoughts as reality he looked back at the others. Their foe, large as he, lay in the snow like a paralyzed ash bear, and while the matoran did not seem better, they were alive. The red one crawled to a rock and clutched it like a baby. Destiny had blessed them, too.


Ronkshou and Vidar fell into the snow heap together. For the moment they were helpless as vipers in a claw. Both had threatened his Matoran, had wished ill to him and his friends, and Antrim struggled with the choice before him. The Matoran were safe. These toa, if they could even be called that name, could not be. Antrim gripped the handle of his sword tightly as he hefted it to a forward guard. The massive weapon dripped of blood from one of its edges, fluid from Vidar's face that tainted the snow with its defiling color. Tainted just like the island would be if Vidar and Ronkshou were let to go free.


Antrim could not let that happen. He heaved the weapon over his shoulder and said, "I would tell you something to remember this day by, but I would rather you did not remember anything at all." The voice was threatening and angry, mad with justice as his eyes swelled with intent to slay the toa as they lay.


"No!" Stannis yelled.


Antrim's gaze spun from the villains to the Matoran -- had something else threatened him? But no, it was Stannis protesting the obvious actions.


"It is not our duty to take a life. Only Mata Nui can carry that sentence out no matter the sins we make." The Wanderer's words were deep in meaning and Antrim nodded at the wisdom his ward had spoken. Truly the learner had taken his own lessons, too.


Antrim lowered his sword and let the tip fall to the snow. "Then sin no more," Antrim said with a hint of regret and passed his own judgement on the toa-villains. He had no need to conserve his powers or fight the men any longer. He waved his weapon over the villains just as another gust of wintry winds poured over them, carrying a dusting of snow with it. When the glaze cleared, Ronkshou and Vidar were encased in a jail of crystal. It wouldn't hold them forever but it would keep them secure for a long while, frozen by ice that was not cold, allowed to see the world around them but remain powerless to release themselves. Only by intervention from another would they be freed.


Stannis looked down at those who wished to end his journey with curiosity, analyzing the sluglike creature on the Rahkshi-Toa's back. His face was one of disgust and interest, but Antrim snapped him to the present.


"Stannis. Let's get your friends home."


The Matoran simply nodded and whispered a prayer of thanks to his god on high. "Mata Nui... Thank you."



* * * * *


It was not long until Antrim carried Korero over his shoulder as the Ko-Matoran remained in darkness. Beside him was Stannis, dragging Oreius on a litter made of the greatsword and ribs of crystal. It slid with a soft crunch as it glissaded smoothly. They traveled in silence, each one still alert instead pondering the events of that morning. But the time flowed freely.


The mountains gave way to a stunning vista of white forests vested in mist. Above it, between them and the jungle, was a monolithic stone mound, at the base of which was a small keep and a few huts close together.


"Stannis," Antrim said with a smile of fatherly satisfaction. "Welcome home."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

IC (Korero)


Korero flopped limply on Antrim's shoulder. Breath misted from the Ko-Matoran's mouth, but his eyes were closed. And behind his eyes, the dreams continued.



His finger traced the carved line in the stone. The stylistic image seemed to flicker in the reddish light of a Ta-Koro evening.


"The Kini-Nui," said a voice from behind him. Startled, Korero turned to see a tall Toa leaning against the wall behind him. His armour was red and silver, glinting in the evening sun as he leaned casually back, his arms folded and one leg hanging in front of the other. Twin swords lay strapped and scabbarded at his back, their hilts jutting above his shoulders.


"Um...yes..." Korero replied. "It's where the First Toa disappeared, deep in the jungles on the other side of the Mangai volcano - "


The Toa laughed good-naturedly.


"I know what the Kini-Nui is," he chuckled. "But it's rare to see Matoran so interested in the Wall of History. My name's Merror."


The Toa held out a hand, smiling. Reaching up, Korero shook it tentatively.


"Yes..." the Matoran said. "It's quite fascinating, actually. Reading it, you can almost imagine you were there yourself, fighting those battles."


"For some of them, I was," Merror replied with another smile.


"Really?" Korero asked, in innocent awe at the Toa-warrior. "It must have been amazing - but terrifying, too...I could never do those things...I can't even hold a disk..." He shuddered at the thought of a Rahkshi bearing down on him.


Merror moved towards Korero and knelt down, putting a hand on his shoulder. The Ko-Matoran looked up into his eyes. Their green glow was kind and reassuring.


"What's your name?" he asked gently.




Another smile. The gentle hand on his shoulder.


"Don't be afraid, Korero."





Link to comment
Share on other sites

IC:Kai ~Voluntarily Going back to Prison? What is he thinking? YOU FOOL, TURN BACK AND ATTACK!~


Kai looked at Den, the strange man with the cloak, and hopefully the person who would get him out of prison. He had to make a decision now, either go back to his cell and run the risk of either getting locked up forever/dying, or trust this stranger who it seemed fate had just put in the way of his escape. It made no sense for this Toa to be on duty at this time of day, Kai had never seen him on duty around this time, and if he had just responded to Kai's attempted prison break, he had to be the fastest Toa in the world. Kai's entire mission, and possibly the fate of the entire island rested on how he decided to react to Alrin's suggestion. He attempted to analyze Alrin once more, to find something, anything, that would sway his decision. He wears a cloak like the other guard, but doesn't seem to be hiding anything except his chest, possibly a flaw? No, he's not the vain type you fool, just look at the rest of his wardrobe. A scar then? That makes a little more sense. He's used to the cold, even though it's unusually cold today, suggesting either he's a Toa of Fire using his powers to heat himself up or a Toa of Ice. However, his armor's color seems to suggest that he is indeed a Toa of Ice. Speaking of armor, his mask also seems to be covered by a clothe, hiding his infected mask? No, that would be too obvious, his co-workers would've caught onto his secret a while ago. More scars then? So it's obvious that this man has many scars that he wishes to hide. Why though? What reason could he have for hiding his scars?


Kai came to the conclusion that he had absolutely no reason to trust this stranger, and in fact, had even more reasons not to trust him, as he seemed to be hiding a few secrets. But while his brain was screaming at him to decline the offer and murder all three guards simply to be done with it, his gut was screaming that he should trust Alrin, as last time he did what his brain said he ended up murdering an innocent Matoran for absolutely no reason. Kai took a deep breath, and lowered his weapons. "You win. Let's go."

"I'll do it... If that is the choice of Stein's Gate!

I am the mad scientist, Hououin Kyouma!

Fooling the world is nothing to me!"

Link to comment
Share on other sites



So here she was, back in the cold. But not at any risk to be discovered. The way her master had led her resulted in the Vortixx being nowhere near where she had unleashed an avalanche on the village of ice. No. She was far to the west of Ko-Wahi, far from that place. But as she scanned the coastline of the fjord stretching out before her, she noticed hers had not been the only avalanche. Masses of ice and snow extended down to the edge of the water, having broken away from the glacier.


She looked to the north, There were a few huts near the edge of the water there, but the small dock of this far outpost of civilisation only harboured one ship...or what was left of it. The burned-out hull rested on the calm waves lapping at the icy beach. Kohra closely observed the area some more. There were a few Matoran there, but more than that, there were obvious tracks in the snow. She could see them from up here. Whatever had happened, it had left clear markings in the snowy ground, even though the constant winter climate would soon cover them up completely. Following them, her eyes wandered back to the south, where the avalanche had spread out. It was a good place to start investigating.


It took her the better part of an hour to find the right path down into to the waters edge, but eventually she did it. But knowing that the area had only this access, wherever her targets had gone, she would have to climb back to the top of the cliff again eventually. With a sigh, she started to follow the tracks in the snow.

They led her across the remains of the avalanche and to the other side of it, where she picked up the trail again. One thing she did notice though, was a crater-like imprint in the snow. As if something had sent out a heat or shockwave of some sort. More footprints led away from the spot and Kohra saw that they were leading up to the wall of the cliff again. Up it is, then. she thought and grabbed onto the icy stone.




Link to comment
Share on other sites

IC: Incommodo (Ko-Koro)


Incommodo lifted Arkrak up, then set him down again, then used magnetism to make him float so that he didn't have to carry him, before beginning to walk towards the hospital.


Nikarra - Kaelynn - Ronan - Muir - Donal Aerus - Montague - Kira - KouraLearu - Alteora - Fuacht - Caana Nessen - Merrill

Link to comment
Share on other sites

OOC: Echelon and co from Ga-WahiIC (Echelon & co)

The journey through Ko-Wahi was arduous, as usual. Echelon wrapped his cloak and robes around him, the black cloth keeping out the cold for the most part; the Necromancer was stoic anyway. Zadron, having trained in harsh environments, had little trouble. The Illusionist didn't appear to be doing anything, but anyone watching closely would see that the wind-blown snowflakes seemed to curve around him, as though the air currents were being diverted. The three Undead simply marched onwards.


Zadron bent down to examine tracks in the fresh snow. He grimaced. A female Vortixx...but clearly Echelon wanted to get to his base quickly, so the assassin grudgingly left the tracks and followed.




The great, snow-hidden metal doors of Echelon's lair slid open and the party descended into the ice-carved tunnel. Echelon disappeared off into his 'store-room' with the three Undead, returning a few minutes later alone. Zadron sat on a simple stool in the central chamber, the Illusionist having gone off to a locked room to deactivate his mask. Zadron often wondered why the Illusionist was so obsessed with keeping his true appearance hidden, even from his closest allies.The answer, Zadron suspected, was that the illusive Toa was missing several of his marbles.When Echelon returned, Zadron looked up."So," said the assassin, "what now?""Now?" Echelon replied. "That is yet to be decided. The Daedra are clearly capable of handling events in Ga-Koro, for now. Kyju has not contacted me yet, so it must be assumed that Onu-Koro is not yet ours. An appearance there could jeopardise our chances. As for the Peers, I've seen neither hide nor hair of them since Pala-Koro. There is nothing that urgently requires our attention, so for now, we rest. Recuperate. The battle has drained me, and while my elemental energy is far from depleted, the chance to regenerate a little would be most welcome."Zadron gave a small nod, accompanied by a quiet snort. The Vortixx had never experienced the bother of elemental energy, as his kind lacked such powers; and his role in the Battle of Pala-Koro had been relatively small; he felt no such need to recover.


"Well, I've got something I want to attend to. I spotted some tracks on our way here. Vortixx. Female."


He spat out the word. Years of living in the Vortixx's female-dominant society had given Zadron an intense hatred of his species' women.


"I won't be long, I expect."


"Very well..." Echelon replied. "But don't let that vendetta of yours get the better of you. You're an excellent assassin, Zadron. I'd hate to see your skills put to waste due to carelessness born of hatred..."


Zadron glared at the Necromancer.


"Message received and understood, Echelon," he growled.




Zadron trailed Kohra's tracks through the snow, leading him westwards. If Zadron's sense of direction was correct, they were leading in the rough direction of a small port-settlement on the coast. The assassin was moving faster than his quarry, though - the tracks were becoming noticeably fresher as he went.


Suddenly, he saw a little black speck in the whiteness, dead ahead. Zadron's laser rifle clicked into place over his shoulder, the scope sliding out over his eye. Through the scope, there was no doubt. This was the female. Keeping his distance, Zadron began following her. He'd taken a white cloak in Echelon's lair to replace his lost black one, and this was the perfect camouflage against the soft, fresh snow.


Edited by Illusive Ghosthands





Link to comment
Share on other sites



It took Kohra a little less long to climb the wall Vidar and Ronkshou had not long ago, mostly due to the fact that they had left a clear trail to follow and she did not need to look for the right handholds. She made it to the top with relative ease, though her muscles told her it had not been a small effort. But she did not afford herself the luxury of focusing on her personal discomforts - after all, she had a job to do. Her fingers closed around the last edge of rock below the top and pulled herself up. Digging her clawed left into the face of the stone, she placed her foot on the small ledge and stood up. The wall was curved slightly inward here, so that the top was protruding outward, above her head.


A chilling wind pulled at her black cloak and she knew she would have to keep moving in order to keep warm, so she quickly made the calculations. She would have to jump up and a little backwards, away from the ledge, in order to grab the one above her. She knew she could make it, but there was still a risk of slipping. And slipping meant falling and falling meant failing her master. And that was simply not an option.

The Vortixx carefully turned around so that she was leaning against the curved wall with her back, and slid down a little, bending her knees. She flexed her quads and looked up, her eyes fixed on the ledge above. Then, in one fluid motion, she made the jump, pushing away from the wall with her arms and using their motion to gain extra upward momentum. Her arms kept moving as she covered the few feet of distance, until they reached above her head.


The next moment, she felt her arms pull straight as her fingers grabbed the edge of the cliff. Her legs continued to swing forward and up due to the new pivot-point of her weight. But she used that to her advantage to, letting go with one hand and throwing it around. The rest of her body followed and not as second later, she was facing the face of the cliff again. She tensed her arms and pulled herself up, using her back-muscles for the needed force. As soon as her elbows were above the edge, she quickly started to push down with her arms and forward, throwing herself onto the top of the cliff, placing her left knee in the snow.


With sigh of content, the Vortixx stood up. She had made it. The large movements had loosened her cloak a little though. As she rewrapped herself in it, she looked back over her shoulder at the village below. It looked as quiet as it had before. Still, something was strating to nag at the back of her head. And Kohra knew she could trust such feelings for the most part. Someone or something had picked up her trail. She would deal with that when the time came.


Speaking of trail, she quickly picked up the one she was following after focusing back on what lay before her. At first, she just found two sets of footprints, leading up the flank of the mountain again, but they were very covered up already. However, nearby, she found more. And these sets of tracks were more pronounced, the snow much more disturbed. The ones who had left them had been in a big hurry. That made it easier to follow.


Continuing her search, Kohra traveled in an eastern direction again. The landscape transformed here, the path she was following leading up a ridge, a steep slope falling down to her right. She continued following the footprints, of which there were now even more. Three sets definitely belonged to Toa. But covered up by them and between them were more sets, possibly two or three, that had been left by Matoran. Matoran who had also been in a hurry. Kohra could tell the difference due to the size and shape, but also that these other tracks were not as deep.


In her mind, she could almost see what had happened here,imaginging herself as one of a pair of Toa running after fleeing Matoran. Or maybe it was the master showing her these images? She didn't know. But she was on the right path. That became obvious, when instead of tracks, she suddenly found the snow disturbed. Greatly disturbed. Where elsewhere it followed the shape of the land in soft forms, carefully made by wind and storms, here it was upturned, dug through and thrown around. And there were signs of clawed paws.


Muaka...she thought. It looked as if the Matoran or Toa had run into the Rahi here. But from here things got complicated in terms of figuring out what had happened. The tracks led down the slope to the right, a steep falls. But who had fallen; and why?


It doesn't matter, she reminded herself. The ones she was following were somewhere down there and she needed to get to them. If they had fallen, jumped down or ridden down this slope on the back of a large feline did not change that. Taking a step back, Kohra jumped over the edge as well, sliding down the snow almost on her thigh, almost lying on her side and using her clawed hand to slow herself down. At the bottom, the ride stopped among frozen trees. The signs of tracks continued here and now Kohra was sure there had been a fight here


Now it was definitely easy to follow the path. Broekn of branches, treads in the snow and tracks all leading to the same clearing were a dead giveaway. As she came closer, Kohra saw something sparkle through the trees. It looked like a large block of ice. But once she stepped out into the clearing, she saw that it wasn't ice, but crystal. A solid block of it. And encased within, she could see the forms of two figures. One was definitely a Toa wearing an infected Hau. Kohra could see the colouring of it quite well. The other being in the crystal however, did not look familiar though. Kohra didn't know what to call it. It's shape was vaguely that of a Toa, but it looked like it had shrunk, or shifted after being trapped here.


Regardless of who they were though, these were the agents the Makuta had meant for her to retrieve. Now she needed to figure out how. The Vortixx started to look around for something she could use to break the crystal-prison. Instead, she spotted a third figure. She had not seen it at first glance since she had been too focused on the trapped Toa. But only a few feet away, there was another, lying in the snow and not moving. The perpetual snow had started to cover him up. Was he the one who had trapped the others? But looking closer, Kohra noticed that the snow falling onto him was not melting. The Toa lying before her was not one of crystal, but ice.


Kohra glanced back at the other two in their transparent prison. She frowned. Whatever the Makuta had sent them here to do, they had not succeeded this day. But she would leave the judgement up to the master. She just needed to get the three moving again. And seeing as there was only one that she could talk to directly now, she approached the onconscious Toa of ice. She dropped to one knee beside him and waved her left hand ones, telekinetically brushing aside the snow ontop of the rather tall Toa.


His heartlight was still pulsing softly. So he was really just unconscious. It was time for him to wake up.


"Well, well...what have we here?" she asked as she shook his shoulder.

Edited by Vezok's Friend




Link to comment
Share on other sites

IC (Zadron)


"What indeed," whispered a voice in Kohra's ear, like the slither of a drawn blade. Even as Kohra instinctively moved her corrupted arm to slash at the being behind her, it was caught in a tight grip.


"Ah-tatatata..." said Zadron, "I wouldn't do that."


Zadron allowed Kohra to twist around and see who her assailant was. He was one of her own species, lean, cloaked in white but armoured in black, with various knives and blades strapped to his limbs and torso. His face was sharp-featured and bore a cold smile.


"Travelling in Ko-Wahi with a black cloak? Amateurish mistake. You were visible a mile away."





Link to comment
Share on other sites

IC: Utu - Ko-WahiUtu instinctively jerked up from his back in the snow, his chest giving a little convulsion before rising. Tears were streaming down his face, mixing with the blood the Matoran of fire had drawn from his face.Utu pushed back with his once powerful arms, shaking, sort of scrambling away from the two Vortixx now before him, his breathing short and heavy.

| BZPRPG Profiles |


Link to comment
Share on other sites



Instead of a look of surprise, Zadron found himself looking into a face with a sly grin playing across its mouth, mirroring his own in a sarcastic way. She tensed her arm in his grip, as if trying to pull her hand free. But it was a ruse. While Zadron focused on keeping her wrist locked in his hand, she suddenly dropped low and swiped at his legs with a powerful kick.


The other Vortixx was fast and tried to step back, letting go of her hand to reach for one of his many blades, but now it was Kohra's turn to catch his arm in a vice-like grip, holding him in place. Her kick connected, making him lose his footing in the snow and throwing his legs to the left. Off balance, he started to fall to the right, but only had one arm free as Kohra continued her move. She dove under their locked arms to the left, not letting go of his wrist, which pulled Zadrons right arm straight . As she came up again, she quickly brought her left arm down from over her head, forcing his arm backwards as he hit the snow. Had they both had sure footing, it would have been a futile attack, since the odd angle would have allowed him to just pull her down on her back. But like this, it was him who had no way to apply any real force. She quickly brought her right hand down on his shoulder and her knee over the back of his legs while her left pulled his arm up to his shoulderblades. Locked in the hold, she pushed him down into the cold snow. out of the corner of her eye she saw that the Toa of ice had woken up as well. She turned back to Zadron.


"The only amateurish mistakes made here were you trying to sneak up on me and then wasting your chance by giving me time to react. I knew I was followed ever since I left the fjord. Who are you, what's your business here? And don't even think about moving that left hand. so much as a twitch and I'll tear your shoulder from its socket."




Link to comment
Share on other sites

This topic is now closed to further replies.
  • Create New...