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Six Kingdoms: Rebirth - Gameplay

Unreliable Narrator

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IC Yumiwak | Wastes, Panda II

"Yours or mine?" I shot back, almost teasingly.

For all that I thought I could know about the world Zataka came from, and that these matoran fell from, it was still hard to fathom what it was like to have an entire world seemingly, and literally, fall apart. I'd watched it unfold through a [much more powerful] telescūpe as I spied into the heavens and I'd seen what I eventually could discern to be a massive body crumble apart. These matoran and their ilk came from That, and as wretched as they were to me (except for this Zataka, obvs) I couldn't help but have a single ounce of sympathy. 

As Ysocla heard from me earlier, this world called Zakaz was not like it is now. We, too, were not untouched by cataclysm and destruction of our universe, we just also happen to also include a big ******* head falling into our backyard as a mere one of them. Maybe that said something about how desensitized we were to this sort of disaster. Or maybe it didn't. There were no innocents in this world. 


IC Stannis Maru | Coliseum 

On the other side of the door the old toa hovered his sinewy fingers over the dialpad, hesitating though in no actual hurry to punch in the code. He could hear Pridak's heavy footfalls upon the polished floors of the disgraced office, the gentle tink as he collected the Haonga, and after it the soft voice of the tyrant as he addressed Saybo and Aurax with skeptical praise. 

Then it occurred to him. Oh, he'd forgotten just how simple Dume was sometimes. Disciplined and brilliant but still predictable in a myriad of ways. The elder was older than Stannis himself, which was saying something, but the eons worth of knowledge and lore he retained alongside the vast webwork of plans and futures meant he had to simplify his life in other ways, like forgetting to lock his computer so he didn't need an extra password, tattooing cartouches from ancient temples upon his flesh like phone numbers to his palm, conscripting the smartest matoran to solve his problems so he didn't need to solve them himself, and creating simple passcodes for doors that related to the doors to serve as reminders. Some people carried rolodexes the size of tomes, Dume just relied on his own mental alacrity to connect the dots when needed in a fashion he'd trained for. 

Silently, and without even a blip the small dialpad discreetly took the code Stannis keyed in: 2-6-6-5. B-O-O-K. The bookshelf door.

The oiled latch slid open quietly and Stannis prepared himself to make his entrance. He had been storied to be wise, powerful, and honorable, but none had ever accused him of being necessarily clever, and so he simply pulled his hood over his face as to hide the Kanohi he wore, cracked the door ajar by and inch to confirm the layout beyond, and then flung it open wide. 

"Thus saith the Holy One: prepare ye not piles of human waste, but crates of blood.
Serve the God of the Matoran and thou shalt drive away vice and idleness; thou shalt be spared the artery plaque.
They that serve the God of the Matoran shalt dispel all debauchery; they shalt be shielded from death."

His voice rumbled like a rockslide, booming in the spacious chamber with merciless power and flowing in a quick cadence much faster than any of them had heard Stannis speak before, and it sounded like a vengeful prophet lambasting the heathens he had hunted. He stepped out, all formless shadow in billowing cloak, a ghost in the nighttime, and only his frighteningly gleaming grey eyes, mirthlessly narrowed in judgement, could be discerned clearly.

"For Toa Bariah did buryeth barns full of olives and was wicked in the eyes of the everlasting God,
but they that love God shalt be protected from the spear; they shalt totally max out their diligence."

Without pause he chanted another verse from the Holy Scripts and threw a spear into the chest of one of the vahki retainers.

"O death, where is thy murder hornet? O revenant, where is thy victory?
The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law.
But thanks be to our Great Spirit, who giveth us the victory through His Toa."

Stannis, it seemed, was not dead at all, but still as bewilderingly alive and mystic as ever before. For now, at any rate. But Stannis also did not cling to his life, and whatever would transpire next would seal fates.


OOC | praises be to phrasegenerator.com/bible for the quotes, with modifications

Edited by EmperorWhenua
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IC: Nale Vella - The Tranquility

Nale glanced between Irna and the rest of the group. The Fa-Toa may not have been showing it, but she was very worried she'd jump and find herself the only one on the ground. Then again, just like before with Triage (and just like with herself), she understood. The Zyglak woman wanted to stay with the person she cared about.


Nale turned to Kat, carefully navigating the falling vessel. "This ship is a lost cause, you can try and stop it all you want, but I'm going," she said. "This is where we get off."

@Conway@Keeper of Kraata@TL01 NUVA@The UltimoScorp@Toru Nui

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(shout out to max)

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IC Kathrine of the Flame - Tranquility:

Abandon her? That line broke through Kat's conscious.Why had she even said that? Her allies abandoning her was the furthest thing from her mind. Of course they weren't going to abandon her. Or anyone!

She shook her head slightly at the ridiculousness of it, but flashes of light caught her eye. Metru-Koro. The ship she'd disabled. It was still working, and still firing at the village!

The raging inferno flickered, and faltered as her heartlight dropped into her stomach. Her attack had at best slowed the ship from it's mission. An idea breifly went through her mind, but the other airship was too far into the airspace above the village.

Kat blew out a frustrated sigh, then reached over and took hold of Keitara's arm.


"Alright, let's get out of here!"

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IC: Skorm (Metru-Koro Airspace, Tranquility Bridge)

"Alright," Skorm shouted, "Ground is looking awful close. Anybody who can't turn into living shadow, grab your chute and jump now." He punctuated this by blowing out another window with a shadow blast, allowing the roaring wind outside to underline the importance of his statement Putting one foot on the console ready to jump, he looked at the others; his feeling right now were... complicated. Seeing one of his old comrades again, had been just like the old days. Except this time, he wasn't blind to the hatred he had supported, that he had killed for. He wanted to be off this ship. Off this ship and to watch it plunge into the ground, so he could bury the memories it dredged up.

OOC: @Toru Nui, @The UltimoScorp, @Tarn, @Conway, @TL01 NUVA

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The times, they are a-changing...



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IC: Sorilax - Sala

Location - Metru-Koro (6, 9), Destroyed Western Garrison

When - Before the Razorfish opened fire at close range


As the pair approached the hollowed-out husk of the garrison, the walls still stood, giving the illusion that the garrison was still in one piece. This false facade was shattered as they entered. Once inside the garrison, the two saw that a massive gaping hole had run through the building, digging several bios deep into the stone and dirt floor and extending out to the very roof of the garrison. In addition to the massive hole, much of the internal structures and supports that were inside of the garrison had collapsed under their own weight and from the blazing heat, lining the crater that stood prominently in the center of the building with stacks and piles of rubbish and rubble. A faint blazing haze could still be felt throughout the air and especially within the crater, a reminder and warning of what had passed through this garrison.

As the two chroniclers, turned mourners, began to overturn rubble, looking for any survivors and being mindful of the great heat that emanated from the crater, they were soon accompanied by several other members of the Matoran guard, who upon seeing the shot strike the garrison, had rushed over in search of survivors as well. Digging through the rubble, sounds of moans could be heard as Matoran, dead, alive, and injured were found and recovered.

Digging through the rubble, Sorilax, almost as an afterthought, created shadow gloves around his hands. Attempting to do the same for Sala, the elemental dampener of the ACR stopped him from doing the same for Sala. The painful moaning nearest to the Aspect was getting closer. As the dust continued to lazily settle, obscuring visibility.

At the back of his mind, Sorilax felt the shadows caused by a third pulse bolt descending upon the village. He ignored it, focusing on using shadows to locate hidden and injured Matoran. The task was difficult, both due to the dust filling the air, muddling shadows, and from Sorilax’s general lack of focus. Eventually he gave up, focusing solely on his shadow gloves and digging through debris.

As the Aspect dug, his hands and arms would occasionally become pinned by all the shifting rubble. Thankfully, his long arms provided the leverage required to free themselves without having to rely on his power of shadows. In Second Skin, Sala was just as effective as his Aspect friend, freeing trapped guards just as effectively.

The pair, along with several other Matoran, spent a good five minutes digging out several injured and dying Matoran. Every second felt like a weight descending on them as they sought to free those still trapped. Time itself worked against them as they tried their best to find all they could before the attack claimed even more lives.

It was hard work, or would have been if Sorilax could get tired, or if Sala wasn’t in an ACR. Regardless, the pair worked hard to be as careful as possible. And as they pulled more and more from the destroyed garrison, the other Matoran started to try to tend to those injured.

Sorilax checked out the latest Matoran he had unearthed as best he could as the dust continued to slowly clear. The Matoran seemed to be well enough to move, as the Aspect gently lifted them and carried them a short distance away, laying them in a line next to others Sala, he, and the other Matoran had found. Sorilax paused for a second in sadness and reflection when he saw another line of those that hadn’t lived through the attack.

Sorilax!” Sala called from inside of the ruins. Concern was evident in Sala’s voice as he shifted uncomfortably, waiting for the Aspect to arrive. Sorilax, carefully maneuvering over debris, soon joined Sala. Using the long arms of Second Skin, Sala pointed out a Matoran that was on the ground. A Matoran who certainly couldn’t be moved. A Matoran they recognized, Guard Matoran Juno. “Sorilax, you need to heal him now! He’s not in stable condition!” Sala’s voice wavered. Why did it have to be someone he knew, even for such a short amount of time? It was Metru-Nui all over again.

Sorilax looked up at Sala. To heal anyone, Sorilax would need Sala to get out of the ACR but also out of its safe embrace. The Aspect felt the shadow of night return as the third pulse bolt impacted somewhere in the village. Concern filled his voice, “It… well old chap, we’re still being attacked and I cannot lose you, not alongside these others, briefly though we knew them. I’m not quite so sure…

Sala looked at the Juno. Sorilax and he had just spoken to him. They had just been helped by him. Covering Juno’s form were severe burns going across the right side of his body, melting his proto-shell and frame to the organic muscle and underlying skin. So much of his armor and his natural body underneath had peeled open from the heat, melting away from the momentary intensity to reveal the horrific sight of organic protodermis beneath that Sala had to look away. In addition to the burns, the collapsing rubble had done him no favors, with one of his hands being damaged beyond use and his legs being broken as well by a pillar that had him pinned and had been moved out of the way.

Sala slowly forced himself to look back on Juno, determination in his eyes as he mentally readied his response to Sorilax. Sala didn’t care about the risk to himself. He had chosen to stay and help. He had chosen to risk his life to save others, just like Juno had. For once, since their first meeting, the Matoran of Plasma began to be upset with the Aspect and said crossly, “We’ve made our decision to stay and help here, no matter the cost! My safety is not worth more than those you can heal.” Sala emphasized his decision with action as he climbed out of Second Skin, the heat of the slowly cooling rubble not bothering him much as a Matoran of Plasma.

Sorilax nodded and sadly said, “Yes, I’m sorry. You’re right.

For the sake of speed, Sorilax mentally opened the mouth and nose of his body, his gaseous essence leaving and entering Second Skin. The ACR came to life and the Rhotuka launcher spun up.

Releasing the healing Rhotuka, Sorilax watched as the energy broke on contact with Juno’s body. It was absorbed into the damaged Matoran’s frame and spread through the remaining form, seeking out all hurts and ills. As the healing energies of the Rhotuka washed across Juno, a gasp of breath could be heard as the organic muscle of his body began to seal itself, alongside his organs, which slowly began to close upon themselves as well. Juno’s body, if seen under a microscope, would be noted as regenerating and repairing itself, miniscule cracks and bends within the proto-shell mending at the Rhotuka’s touch.

But it wasn’t enough.

The wounds were too deep, too severe. The burns were too damaging, stifling the healing effects upon the organic components. The damage to the frame was too harsh to simply return to its former shape. The Heartlight continued to ebb and fade.

Sorilax, something’s wrong!” Sala cried out upon realizing this. He turned to Sorilax, pleading, “He’s going to live, right? Right?!

Sorilax had already turned away within Second Skin and solemnly climbed out of the garrison, striking the others they had pulled from the rubble with his Rhotuka of healing. The other Matoran of the Guard were momentarily hostile towards the Aspect and confused at his actions, but quickly backed off when the first Matoran struck stood up, wounds healing even as they watched. Sala, while frustrated at the Aspect leaving him and not answering his question, realized why it was done.

So, is it bad?” Sala was startled out of his anger towards Sorilax at the sudden voice as he turned down towards Juno, whose optics had weakly opened, his mouth barely agape with his ragged breathing.

No, I’m afraid you..You aren’t.....” Sala couldn’t say it. During the siege, he had fought against the League alongside his fellow Matoran, but Sala was not one with a hardened heart and the act of taking another’s life was one that dwelled on him strongly.

Hey now, I know I wasn’t much of a looker beforehand but it can’t have made me that much uglier, hehehe…” Juno joked, trying to ease the other Matoran’s nerves, before he broke into a coughing fit as he laughed at his own joke. 

Sorilax reentered his own body and came back to Sala, placing a hand on the Matoran’s shoulder as he studied Juno, speaking while not realizing Juno was awake. “I am sad to say that no, my healing will not save this individual before his demise. If we had some way to artificially keep him alive, then he would eventually have a full recovery. But the worse the damage, the longer the recovery with my power. He… won’t make it. I give him minutes at most.

That doesn’t sound too good, doc,” Juno coughed.

Suddenly Sorilax realized his error. How insensitive his words seemed now. It felt like they hung in the air, mocking his mistake.

Sala bent down, trying to comfort Juno but avoiding touching any of his injuries, “Listen Juno, listen, I’m sure Sorilax and I can come up with something, anything!” Sala said as tears began to well behind his optics. He was able to keep his composure just enough to not completely break down.

Sorilax meanwhile was spurred by the two Matoran to contemplate the Matoran as a species. How positive they were. How hard they worked. How powerless they seemed compared to the other species. Truly Zakaz destroyed without restraint.

It wasn’t fair.

Emotion churned within him. He would do something to make things right. Some small way to use this tragedy and turn it to further Moral Light and goodness and life. To look beyond his own inherent selfishness and help others. He looked to see how Sala was handling things.


Sorilax knew what he must do.

Placing a gentle hand on the Su-Matoran’s shoulder, Sorilax crouched and spoke softly to both Matoran, “You will undoubtedly depart from us, Juno. But we don’t have to let your death be in vain. The moment you die, I can use your Heartlight to give strength to another to help make things right. To further the continued existence of all Matoran. To fight the Moral Darkness in this world.

Sorilax stood back up to not seem like he was imposing his will on the two Matoran, “But it has to be done willingly. Don’t take my words as pressure.” Sorilax squeezed Sala’s shoulder to indicate he spoke to both of them, “Decide that which you think is right. I will respect whatever decision you make.” The Aspect removed his hand and took a few steps away to further imply it was not his will, but theirs that would be employed in the decision.

Sala was, for a moment, stunned at what Sorilax had said. Although the concept of it had been explained to Sala over and over again, being here, within the moment, Sala was left speechless and unable to decide...Till Juno spoke, “Sure, why not.

Looking down towards Juno, a worried expression grew on Sala’s face, “No, we can figure out something, I’m…” “Listen friend” Juno interrupted, “I appreciate it, but I’m deader than the big guy out there in the distance.” Juno gestured as best he could to the West, where the head of the great spirit stood. “If I’m going to die, let's make it at least count for something...Right?

Hot tears had begun to roll down Sala’s Kanohi, against his knowledge and his bidding. He was left conflicted. Juno’s willingness and acceptance of his fate amazed Sala. But it made Sala question himself, whether he should accept it as willingly as Juno had.

Hey, one thing, before we do this...There’s a Vo-Matoran within the guard, she’s called Vulimai, you can’t miss her...I need you to tell her something for me...Tell her..Juno said..Not to worry so much.” Juno said the last part with noticeable effort, as his breath grew more raggard and marred with more and more coughs. Juno’s time was soon to be up as Sala took his hand and bowed his head, acknowledging the Po-Matoran’s request.

I’m ready Sorilax...We’re ready.” Sala said to the aspect, not even having the strength to look at them.

Well,” Sorilax responded, “Only if you’re absolutely sure. This can’t be undone.

Juno was barely able to whisper his consent. “Thought that was the point,” Juno said, one last joke for the road. Sala only grimly nodded in approval.

Very well,” Sorilax studied the dying Matoran once more. Juno was quickly leaving them now. “We must hurry. Sala, the ritual now requires your decision on a power, and on you accepting a wish of my choosing that you must attempt to accomplish.” Sorilax tried to think of a wish quickly. The mere action of thinking non-slowly was hard for him.

Sala... I wish for you to accompany me to the Grand Temple Ruins in the Fau Swamp to help me document what is there, and then destroy the Taboos located there if we can.

I accept this wish, and in return, I desire the power to protect myself and others from harm but to also stop others from inflicting it. I desire the power of stasis.” Sala said simply and flatly, too drained to say anything more.

Sorilax felt Juno’s Heartlight with his long arm. He was almost gone, hanging on by a thread. Time to start.

We gather here in this moment to pay respect to this Matoran, Second in Command Guardsman Juno. I Sorilax and this here Sala bear witness to his dedication to Unity, Duty, and Destiny to the very end. As he leaves this mortal coil to make his home amongst the stars, we send him on his way with the honor and respect he deserves.

Sala, anything to add quickly?

The Su-Matoran nodded solemnly, “In Unity we are born, by Duty we live, and with Destiny we pass. May Mata-Nui guide this spirit and the many more to come as they pass on and may they be taken onto the Red Star and to the Great Beings within.

Sorilax nodded his head in silent agreement. On Juno’s face, the smallest fraction of a grin could be seen, a single thought remained within Juno’s mind, “I will live on, so don’t you worry Vulimai, please, don’t worry.” His Heartlight was moments from depowering. Special slots in Sorilax’s hands opened up and his essence leaked out to touch both the Heartlight and Sala.

Goodbye, dear friend.

The Heartlight burst to full once more even as Juno left his body, now free from the pain of his injuries. Sorilax looked to Sala.

Hello, new life bearer.

Pure energy from the Heartlight flowed into Sorilax’s gaseous form.

I step forth into the Light and prepare the gift for those deserving.

The words weren’t exactly what he had written down in his scroll, but he could feel them working regardless as he merely added words to what he had written and didn’t change the base prose. As he spoke, Sorilax could feel that it was the underlying poem he had created that was carrying the ritual, not the added pleasantries.

A star’s heart still beating, still lit. A solemn gift for those that remain.

Two daylight creatures cry and shift, despairing at this world’s pain.

Make them stir inside the pit, becoming one of their own choosing.

Bind worm and willing host, forever to be the same.

Respect the yolk and share its gold, as its owner’s soul does wane.

Recycle knowledge and their ghost, may they forever receive soothing.

Pray for sons forever lent, never to return again.

Hello, newly cherished life. With outstretched arm and within love we seek to seize.

Goodbye, lost brother. We wish you well. May you forever be at peace.

As Sorilax spoke, the energy from the Heartlight traveled through his gaseous form, disappearing into his body of armor, then back out his other hand and onto Sala, until finally the poem ended and the Heartlight was drained.

Those in the immediate vicinity could feel how deep the ritual ran. How there was something unspeakably more to the action than a mere transference of energy that ran deep in the undercurrents of the world. Something was there with them, enforcing and powering the entire thing.

While Sorilax didn’t employ the use of Shadow to enhance the ritual like he knew many of his brothers and sisters did, the creation of the Kraata was stunning regardless. During the ritual, on the back of Sala’s neck could be seen a tiny mote of energy that grew and began to take form. As it grew it began to wriggle about, assimilating with its future host. As the poem ended, the energy faded to reveal the true form and coloring of a fully formed Kraata. It nestled into place, feeding Sala power as it remained alive through its host’s natural energy.

Sorilax paid attention to the power he felt behind the ritual as he spoke, observing how it worked though him to create the Kraata on Sala. There was no point where it faltered or quit. His altered poem was a success! He was filled with a strange mix of joy and sadness. This meant he could bend the rules to his will, but the cost to find out had been immense and centuries in the making.

As the Kraata settled against the nape of Sala’s neck, he felt it as it seemed to dig into him, not in a malicious manner but an uncomfortable odd feeling was certainly present, as if it was trying to not dig into his proto-shell but become a part of it. Reaching for the Kraata upon his neck, simply to feel the thing that was to be upon his body for the rest of his life, Sala was startled as a cold tingling feeling ran through his spine upon him making contact with it. Truly, him and the...Thing were now bound together.

Sorilax took note of something odd. There was this, well, new mental connection in his mind. It was just sitting there, waiting to be used. Idly lazing about in his mental head space as if it had always been there but had been obscured. He felt points in the distance, spread out across Zakaz. One point ended right next to him, where Sala stood. Could this be the audio mental communication Sorilax had been told about by other Aspects?

Sala? He mentally sent.

Sala, distracted by his thoughts of what had just transpired, replied, “Yeah, Sorilax?

It was then Sorilax knew for sure. He had just completed the first step in his Grand Wish. Another objective and potential next step filled his thoughts now. The knowledge of how to replace sentient beings’ Heartlights with Rahi Heartlights in future rituals. Sorilax gave a sad smile, “One step completed, with earnest sadness we step forward to step two of my Grand Wish.

Let’s finish up here. We need to save everyone we can.

Sorilax respectfully grabbed Juno’s dead body and carried it over to where the others who had been killed were, making sure the former Guardsman looked as presentable as he could be given the circumstances.

Then the shadows all around him changed again, and close by! Another arcing pulse bolt was chucked over the walls. It was followed by plasma bolts. The smaller shots tore through the brick and stone of the wall and the buildings scattered throughout the village. It was a blind spray, thankfully, and had missed Sala, Sorilax, and those they had saved. A couple Matoran that had decided to stay and man the walls despite the disparaging distance between them and the Razorfish were not as lucky, however. Those that cried out in pain were the lucky ones. The unlucky ones died immediately.

As the destruction around them continued, Sala, not willing nor capable of raising his head and looking at Sorilax, said to the Aspect, “I don’t think we should stay any longer, I...I don’t want to stay here any longer.

Sorilax looked around, fires raging in certain parts of the village as plasma rained down around them. Now the only Matoran that hadn’t fled were carrying those that were injured or tending to them. He turned to Sala. The Matoran, once so determined to stay, had flipped his opinion quite easily. Was it the ritual? Had it disturbed him?

Sorilax’s mind was filled with an image of the line of dead Matoran they had pulled from the remains of the garrison. Now he understood. The enemy had proved to be untouchable from their position. Probably in airships far up and out of sight in the night. What could they do when the trained guards couldn’t?

I am in agreement. Most have fled to safety and the enemy appears untouchable. Seeing as we are not trained in combat combined with the high probability of there being other healers in this village due to the large number of inhabitants we saw earlier leads me to conclude that your decision has merit.

There he was, rambling on as plasma came down like rain. The Aspect’s slow way of life showing itself at odds with the current situation as speed continued to be required. “Let me heal the others from the wall and we should be on our way to safety, just like everyone else.

Sala, still staring at the ground, barely nodded. Sorilax climbed back in Second Skin, making a quick trip to heal those injured. The plasma fire and pulse bolts continued to wreak havoc on humble Metru-Koro, thankfully more towards the center of town and mostly away from where Sorilax was. Still, he had to be mindful of the sky as there were a couple stray bits of plasma, thankfully small enough to be completely nullified by the elemental dampeners in his ACR.

He healed those that were left and a majority of the Matoran ran for the safety of the New Archives. As he traveled, Sorilax thought he heard a cannon going off within the village, but he couldn’t be sure. He made his way back to Sala in the light of unbidden fires.

Before Sorilax returned and the two chroniclers abandoned Metru-Koro to its fate, Sala, being reminded by the odd movements of the Kraata upon his neck, took out a bit of paper and ink he had on hand and quickly wrote down a note. He passed it to one of the guards who were still attending to the quickly recovering injured Matoran and simply told them that the letter was for Guard Matoran Vulimai. The guard nodded, stowing the note away securely.

Returning to Sala, Sorilax exited Second Skin, allowing the Matoran to climb within. Sala sat there for a few moments, seeming to be distant. He glanced at Second Skin, his mind slowly working. Eventually he moved over to the ACR and climbed inside. The entire time he didn’t look Sorilax in the eyes and when the ACR closed over him worry blossomed in Sorilax.

Perhaps the change in decision had been more than just logic like Sorilax had thought. There might be more to the Matoran of Plasma than he had shown up to this point. Hopefully Sala would be fine. Hopefully they would make it back safely to Le-Metru Nuva. Hopefully Sorilax would achieve his Grand Wish and put right what he could in this universe. Then Sala would be safe and his worries far away.

The pair turned and tried to avoid bombardment as they traversed towards the south gate.

They had accomplished much here, given a potential lifeline to Le-Metru Nuva, repaired Sorilax, healed almost a dozen Matoran, and given Sala a Kraata. But the costs kept mounting up higher and higher the longer they stayed. Hopefully Le-Metru Nuva had fared better in their absence.

OOC: @Sparticus147 

Jammed out between Sparticus and I. We did it, boys. Sorilax's Grand Wish Step 1 is completed and Sala has a Kraata.

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--------- “BRUH” -Makuta, probably ---------


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IC: Sans, The Razorfish

Sans felt some impact against his thrashing leg.  He must've hit his foe.  Sans realized the ship was finally affected by his size now, and his damage, so he went all in.  His growing now complete, the 40 foot Turaga jutted from the Razorfish like a stalagmite.  Sans ripped his staff up through the ship and drew it overhead before slamming it down as hard as his old arm would allow, trying his best to smash the engine as best as he could- or at least make it look really ugly.  When the staff slammed into the metal, maybe it was his pent up rage, or pain, or any emotion or feeling, really, but something inside of Sans came out.  Out of every orifice, the entirety of Sans' elemental energy burst from within, as if every inch of the mighty, blue Turaga was crying out.  He could feel this water pushing stuff around beneath him, but what drew his focus was feeling the ship crack all around him.  His massive frame had done its work, and he felt himself slipping to the side.  The wobbling Razorfish tilted too much to the side, and the Turaga heard thunder as the floor and walls supporting him gave way.  A crevice of metal formed as if the ship was spitting him out.

Sans didn't even try and reach for anything.

Surround by sparks and splintering, wet metal, Sans began to fall through the wall.  He looked back up to see the large hole in the hull above him.  He hadn't exactly ripped the ship in half like he expected, but then again, he hadn't exactly thought this all out from the beginning.  Still, the damage was done, Sans hoped, and as the gaping ship dumped him out into the sky, Sans looped back around from feeling pain and fear and sorrow to only feeling the laughter.


OOC: @Nato the Traveler

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In a world where heroes and villains battle for the fate of the universe‚ some people have normal lives and work normal jobs... Zimixes

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IC: ZaliyahThe Razorfish 

One second, Zaliyah was lunging forward, a blazing ray of searing crimson lancing forth from her blade as she prepared to end the life of her assailant. The next, she was being battered backwards by a tidal wave that flung her along the length of the ship to crash into the back of the pilot’s chairs.

She tried to rise, tried to claw her way forward, but the cascading waves washed over her, dragging her down to depths that had long haunted her darkest dreams…

. . .

…she screamed and swore and sputtered as she reached the surface, her misshapen limbs making it difficult for her to paddle properly. Her lungs burned, not from the seconds spent underwater, but from the long minutes spent caught up in the cyclone that had flung her into the sea. 

Through blurry eyes and bitter tears, she spotted her fellow Toa on the shore, a growing crowd of Matoran gathering around them. They were arguing, their raucous shouts and frantic gestures clear to Zaliyah even from this distance. In the years she’d spent protecting the village, she’d never seen or heard of the Matoran questioning the Toa. Their trust had been absolute, until she’d shattered it.

Zaliyah flailed her arms, apologies and pleas spilling from her hoarse throat, only for her words to become gurgles as a colossal wave crashed down upon her – a wave that came from the direction of the shore. 

She tumbled through turbulent water, mud and seaweed and fish swirling around her as wave after wave drove her ever further from home. She struck rocks and coral as the whirling waters drove her to the very bottom, pummelling her into the sand again and again before sweeping her back towards the surface. 

She clung weakly to consciousness, seizing ever desperate breath she could manage, knowing that if she let herself black out she’d never wake again. Eventually, after what was likely mere minutes, but felt like an excruciating eternity, she surfaced in still waters, the continent she’d called home for all of her existence little more than a lingering silhouette on a bleak horizon. 

Time lost meaning as she drifted, her every second spent struggling to stay atop the surface. As her body weakened, so too did her will, until she finally surrendered control to the beast her fellow Toa had feared so dearly. As afternoon became evening, and the last vestiges of daylight slipped away, the Id kept on treading water, hordika strength and unnatural adrenaline keeping it afloat, its aura of primal fear keeping the Takea and other seaward beasts at bay. 

Cage in the confines of her cognisance, Zaliyah’s hope steadily slipped away. Her brothers and sister weren’t going to save her. The Matoran weren’t going to search for her. She was going to die out here, forgotten and forlorn, a freak whose final moments wouldn’t even be spent in control of her own body. 

The eyes of the beast looked up towards the expanding skyscape, settling on a single, spiteful star directly above. The true nature of that solitary speech of glimmering gold was lost to the bestial Id, but Zaliyah knew what it was: her spirit star, formed when she’d first taken the Toa Stone in her hand, and still persisting and pursuing her despite what she’d become.

And then a new light caught the Id’s eye. 

A mighty shape glided across the water towards their flailing form, a fearsome beast with glowing eyes, with a carapace that creaked and wings that fluttered. Recognising the boat for what it was, Zaliyah fought for control of her body, corralling her inner creature back to its cage. She sank like a stone as she retook control, her body exhausted beyond any hope of recovery. 

An invisible hand of magnetic energy enveloped her, gently lifting her from the water and depositing her on the deck. Flickering firelight danced around her as the crew gathered around her, but as Zaliyah’s eyes adjusted, her hope turned to horror as she recognised her rescuers to be the very same bandits she and her fellow Toa had driven from their village earlier that day. Only they were no bandits, she now realised. Unfurled behind them was a banner she recognised only by rumour: the sigil of the Barraki Pridak, one of the warlords of the League of Six Kingdoms. 

As she looked up at the motley assortment of species before her, she expected to see gazes filled with hate, disdain, and fear, the same gazes the Toa and Matoran had offered her mere hours before. Instead, a scarred steltian crouched before her, a sad smile on his face. His expression was one of pity, of understanding. He held out his hand, and Zaliyah took it… 

. . .

…she cracked open her eyes to find herself dangling in the upended Razorfish, only the firm hands of the pilot Vahki keeping her from falling the length of the ship to the very back of the engineering section, where bloody water still sloshed around the ankles of the battered engineer Vahki. 

“Status report?” She croaked, sinking her claws into the bank of one of the seats to anchor herself. It took several tries for her to manage it.

She was shaking, and not from the cold. 

“All pulleys and circuits connecting to rear of ship have been severed. Remaining disks in intact portions of the ship insufficient to maintain altitude,” the pilot reported, “Connection to the propulsion engine has been lost. Elevation is decreasing.”  

Zaliyah could indeed feel the ship sinking, dropping quickly towards the ground. The altimeter in the cockpit was dropping past the 600-bio mark, but there was no telling how accurate the measurement was anymore. 

“Open the cargo bay,” she ordered. “Lose the dead weight.” 

“Liquid interference has short-circuited electronic controls,” the pilot replied, “Only analogue systems remain operational.” 

“Fine,” Zaliyah readied her weapons, loosing energy beams and rhotuka down the stairway into the cargo bay, only stopping when she knew she'd managed to sever the clamp locking the cargo ramp closed.

The Razorfish’s descent slowed considerably as the ramp fell open, unleashing a cascade of weight increase disks, kanoka launchers, shredded metal, and a quarter-tonne of water into the frigid night air. Though the circumstances weren’t exactly what Zaliyah had planned for, emptying the cargo bay had been part of her strategy ever since she’d ordered the Vahki to load the debris from Kat’s initial attack into the hold. It wasn’t as effective as a proper bombing run, but from this height, the result would still be devastating for any one or thing below. 

But Zaliyah didn’t have time to relish whatever devastation her unorthodox tactic was wreaking below.

Ditching the cargo wasn’t going to be enough. 

The ship was still sinking. 

Edited by Nato the Traveler
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BZPRPG Mercenary Group - The Outsiders - Description - History - Base

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IC: Jephro-Metru Koro @Azibo @Nato the Traveler

Jephro looked up, he could see Sans falling, and instinctivley reached out and lowered the Turaga's gravity, alowing him a relatively smooth ride down.  Moments later, the Razorfish began to tumble out of the sky right towards the Plazma cannon, dumping debres as it went. He reached deep inside and lashed out with his gravity again. Spending the rest of his gravitational energy, he created a large pulse of negative gravity, just inside the ship, spreding the debris and and attempting to tear the ship appart. Hopefully the debres would be scatered enough not to hurt anyone.

Edited by Smudge8

Six Kingdoms Characters: Mazor, Jephro, The Janitor, Informant




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IC: Lrrthxx, Ruins of Air

"Can you give me a reason as to why you shouldn't assist me?"  Lrrthxx looked down towards the ancient text, beginning to try and decipher it's meaning.  "Can you just tell me what this all says and describes or even depicts, or am I really going to have to take the time to read the floor all myself?"

OOC: @Unreliable Narrator

In a world where heroes and villains battle for the fate of the universe‚ some people have normal lives and work normal jobs... Zimixes

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IC: Gore Fury (THE CUBE)

What is your business? What is your ultimate goal?

"My business? Well it's simple really, I'm a cook and a chef. As for my goal...That's a good question, and uh...I guess...Maybe becoming a household name, that would be pretty cool, especially if it's for my cooking."

OOC: @Kal the Guardian

IC: Apex (Morangad's Hut)

As Apex approached where the structure she had sensed was, she was greeted by a raucous sound as a Braka was seen fleeing from an old moss and vine covered shack in the trees. The Brakas, was not like any Brakas Apex had seen within her life. Its arms were longer than normal and sinewy but seemed to still bear its entire, seemingly, engorged weight, its tail being nearly as thick as its other limbs. "What is this swamp coming too?" Apex thought as she began to circle the hut from below.

OOC: @Burnmad

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IC: Ostrox (Metru-Koro Airspace, The Tranquility, The Bridge)

Ostrox wordlessly dived out of the window, as Skorm had recommended. It had been some time since he had felt the sensation of the wind battering his bare face. He didn't like it. Of course, he didn't like a lot of things. He activated his parachute at the right moment, floating down towards to the desert floor, though the wind still buffeted him around a bit.

@Keeper of Kraata@Conway@Tarn@TL01 NUVA@The UltimoScorp


IC: Waveahk (The Coliseum, Throne Room, Ventilation Shaft)

Well. So much for the element of surprise. Waveahk gave the small lizard a look of 'do you see what I have to put up with?' It did, however, provide enough noise to hide the sound of him opening the grate from the inside. He got his revolver ready, to drop down and open fire once the fighting started in earnest.

...Just what was a 'human', anyway?

@Vezok's Friend@EmperorWhenua@~Xemnas~@Kal the Guardian@Tarn@Snelly

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IC: Cravious - Skakdi of Lightning - Zakazian

Location - The Rig outskirts (9, 8), the Cube

With - Gore Fury, (NPC) Voracious, (NPC) Preceptor, (NPC) Sagacious, (NPC) Asperity, (NPC) Clash


"My business? Well it's simple really, I'm a cook and a chef. As for my goal...That's a good question, and uh...I guess...Maybe becoming a household name, that would be pretty cool, especially if it's for my cooking."

The pure lack of cohesion of goals, or even any semblance of a plan cut through Cravious’ very soul. As a Skakdi who viewed the world through missions and goals, this was the worst possible answer he could have received. The phrase “that would be pretty cool” hurt him deeply, but the addition of “especially if it’s for my cooking” made Cravious lose all hope. This idiot would be swallowed up and killed before he could get a stove turned on.

But his natural charisma still stuck out to Cravious. Cravious had trained his mind well enough to know there wasn’t any mental manipulation going on, so that was a giant plus in Gore’s case. And then the profession, a cook. Proper food makers were desperately needed on this island. He had just been lamenting earlier about poor food choices. That right there was a market that could be exploited.

Cravious thought more about that, picturing if he went all out and essentially provided everything for the aspiring cook. Food could be big business, but food was precious and that required heavier security. Even more so if Gore was as good a cook as he was charismatic.

But how big could the business get? If the cooking skill wasn’t transferable, then the idea of making a ton of widgets was out before it even began. But maybe if Cravious made a canning factory, that might be able to be bypassed. Hmmm…

If by some miracle this fool became successful without him, Cravious would kick himself. Maybe he could start small and Cravious could fund some supply runs for rarer ingredients, letting Gore deal with the rest. That would open a line of communication that could be developed later if Gore grew beyond his small limits, or wasn’t killed by some random Skakdi.

Still, none of this was certain. He needed to find out how good of a chef this Skakdi was.

As he thought, he studied the Skakdi. A minute of silence passed as Cravious quickly ran rough calculations, probabilities, and differing scenarios. Finally he spoke, “I’d be willing to help you out with your business, perhaps loan you enough widgets to get started. Maybe even invest in rarer ingredients.

Cravious shifted, slightly uncomfortable to admit the next part, “I don’t know why, but for some reason I trust you, which is almost a first for another Skakdi. I have one condition, though. Cook me something up from what I have and impress me enough to help you. You crazy fool of a chef.


OOC: @Sparticus147


--------- “BRUH” -Makuta, probably ---------


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IC: Nale Vella - The Tranquility/Outside Metru-Koro

She made her way over to Skorm, eyeing Ostrox with suspicion as he dove out of the ship before anyone else present. "I'll catch up with him," Nale said to the Twi-Toa, before stepping off into her second freefall of the day. As she left, the Toa of Magnetism muttered something else, barely audible above the wind as she jumped, but if one were to focus on it they'd hear: "You lot better make it."

Nale could feel her heartrate skyrocket again as she dove straight for the rapidly approaching Zakazian landscape. She went into a glide for a bit to slow and reorient herself, before pulling her chute about halfway above the ground. The Fa-Toa then finished her descent, briefly feeling relief the moment her boots touched down on the desert. She was no longer on a crashing airship, but the fighting wasn't over yet, and the others still had to make the jump themselves. Getting the Tranquility out of the air was at least a small victory, but wouldn't mean much if her team didn't survive its crash. "I hope you're not getting any ideas," she said to Ostrox, discarding her pack as she walked over to him. "We don't leave this spot until all of my allies are accounted for."

@Conway@Keeper of Kraata@TL01 NUVA@The UltimoScorp@Toru Nui

IC: Rose - Pridak's Throne Room

Rose prepared herself. She wasn't sure what kind of show Stannis was putting on, but the time for her and the others to make themselves known seemed to be drawing near. The Ta-Toa clenched her fists in anticipation of the things she'd do to Pridak, like taking hold of his head and crushing it like a Madu fruit...

@EmperorWhenua@Snelly@Toru Nui@Kal the Guardian@~Xemnas~@Vezok's Friend

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(shout out to max)

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IC: Skyra Daring - Pridak's Crib -

Skyra had never been the religious type. Sure, she'd believed in Mata Nui and all that as a Matoran living in Metru-Nui. That was what you were supposed to do right? But she'd never once taken it too seriously, to her it was just a thing that you did. 

Stannis had mentioned Mata Nui seeing death as an offering, and this had got her thinking. Considering all the death and destruction she'd left in her wake during all her battles during the war, it made her wonder if perhaps she was far more devoted to Mata Nui than she'd realized. 

Skyra watched Stannis charge into the throne room of Pridak and shout out his chants at him, Skyra felt oddly inspired by the whole thing, and she'd never been one to feel inspired by anything particularly religious. 

But at this moment, it felt all too real to her. If I must become a herald of the death god, then so be it. I will fully embrace this role...just this once.

Skyra muttered a prayer to the god of death before leaping into the throne room, using a combination of her Calix, her element, and her jet pack, she darted across the room at a surprising speed, her katana cutting through a Vahki who'd been unfortunate enough to be in her way. 

She dropped her katana suddenly, pulling out both of Midak Skyblaster and Cordak Blaster, one in each hand, aiming at Pridak himself.

"The Death God says hi." Even as she started speaking her fingers had pulled the triggers, a barrage of missiles and orbs of light came crashing towards the warlord.

@Vezok's Friend@~Xemnas~@EmperorWhenua@Kal the Guardian@Tarn @Toru Nui

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My Bzprpg ProfilesGhosts of Bara Magna

Skyra | Hakari | Oceanna | Taleen | Arisaka | Zanakra | Kaminari | Drakkar

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IC: Ostrox (Metru-Koro Outskirts)

Ostrox got on his knees and put his hands on his head. But instead of responding to Nale in the Matoran Language...

"Ka, vu? Zik, zik, zik, verem arg-Toa ralvu delarg asz 'tekrina'. Tekrina naaz quor sevil yek krimatora mol trok gron chro te uvlar kloma. Ivu asz schrema."



IC: Waveahk (The Coliseum, Throne Room)

Waveahk dropped down into the throne room, intent on attacking Pridak from behind with his Weaken Kanoka Blade, and not giving away his position by spouting religious dogma.

@Vezok's Friend@EmperorWhenua@Tarn@Snelly@~Xemnas~@Kal the Guardian

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IC: Drukarus (The Nightmare Pit)

The two skakdi, propelled by their own determination, too stubborn to back down from the Nightmare Pit's challenged, continued to trek further into the shadows and mists as they soon began to descend deep into the dark abysm. Passing by the insidious whispers and haunting shades, soon, light from the volcanic flames began to illuminate the passage as the end soon came into sight.

Passing through the final aperture, the pair was greeted by quite the sight. Before them was a wide yet still relatively small ledge suspended over what can best be presumed to be the gaping maw of the volcano. Nearest to the exit was several skakdi, who Drukarus took notice that they all seemed to be in a state of shock and awe, the reason for this shock and awe was soon revealed to Drukarus. Near the very edge were two skakdi, one atop the other in a vicious grapple...Or, at least it looked like two skakdi were grappling near the edge, but there was something else.

The skakdi that was being pinned, that one held something more, a dark malevolence, so strong that it forced Drukarus to recoil at its power. This malevolence was seemingly seeping out of the skakdi's eyes in a black inky mess. But there was one thing that Drukarus took notice that he couldn't ignore, that this malevolence was not by this skakdi's own will, and came from another, an outsider force, one that had no respect for the rite of combat that was occurring before him.

Drukarus, against both his better judgement and his own intentions, moved in to intervene. To first separate these two combatants and then forced this dark force to be rid of itself, whether by persuasion or force.

OOC: @Nato the Traveler @Unreliable Narrator @Burnmad @Keeper of Kraata @Conway

IC: Twesh (Metru-Koro)

Twesh, having fired two round so far at the last airship located outside of Metru-Koro's walls, was interrupted in his calculations and shot predictions when the most horrid sound of rending metal caught his attention. From on high, the airship that had positioned itself over him, was being torn apart in a truly wild spectacle. Debris, seemingly more so than what would initially be suspected from the Turaga's wild plan began to rain down.

Looking over towards the toa, Twesh knew he needed help. "Toa! Here safe. Guard help."

OOC: @Eyru @Smudge8

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IC: Keitara (I wanna fly like a Kahu...)

Keitara saw the ground getting closer and closer. If they waited any longer she and Kat would be one with the desert in a way no Po-Toa could ever hope to match. 

Swearing internally, Kei dropped the spare chute. In one swift action, she yanked out the chute's ripcord and wrapped first her arms and then her legs around Kat. As she felt the chute deploying behind her Kei held on with all the energy she had left in her body.

When the shock came Kei felt as though her limbs were being ripped off. She would have screamed had she been able to get a proper breath as the pack harness snapped tight across her chest. The parachute caught, billowing out to its full size. As it did, the two Toa were plucked from the top of the ship and found themselves gently gliding down toward the desert below.

"Kat" gasped Kei as the warrior-monk ceased her fiery barrage, "grab the handles. Steer us. I… can't… gruh…" Kei went back to bear-hugging the Toa.

There was a noticeable shift as Kat took the hand grips and began steering the pair towards the ground. When they finally made contact Kei collapsed nerveless on the sand as Kat used a quick burst of fire to dissolve the chute and prevent the nerveless Av-Toa from being dragged away by the wind. Gently lifting the groaning figure, Katherine began walking, tiredly, toward where Nale and Ostrox waited.

(OOC: @Tarn @The UltimoScorp @Keeper of Kraata @Conway @Toru Nui)

Edited by TL01 NUVA
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Whatever mountain you are climbing, you can do this.

                                       BZPRPG character masterpost


                      "Just promise me something... don't let me go."



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IC: Barius - Nightmare Pits

Barius exhaled sharply as the knife jerked within him, back arching involuntarily to try and keep the blade from penetrating even further into his abdomen. With inky blackness now pouring out from where he had cracked Boss' skull, his hands shot down to wrap around that of the other Skak, wrestling to keep the knife immobile and prevent further internal damage from wreaking havoc upon his innards. He could feel blood gushing out of him with every thump of his heartlight.

As his vision returned to him, his eyes darted around the chamber like those of a cornered beast, taking in the sights that had changed since Boss had taken his sight. His discarded club was off to his right. The edge was mere feet away, behind him. Two newcomers had arrived - unfamiliar to him - and had joined the spectators in gaping at the awful horror that had been made apparent to all: Boss was not master to Miserix, but for all these years had been a mere puppet.

One of the newcomers shook himself from his stupor and began to approach. To intervene, perhaps? Barius was uncertain it would come soon enough, even if the Skak, whose size was comparable to his and Boss' own, managed to separate them. He had to do something to preserve himself. Letting go of Boss'-- Miss' right hand with his own right, he grabbed for his opponent's left, hoping that she, or they? were distracted and distressed enough in this precise moment that he could maybe, just maybe, slip the knuckle duster off.

OOC: @Unreliable Narrator @Sparticus147 @Nato the Traveler @Keeper of Kraata @Conway

IC: Morangad - His Home, Fau Swamp

Inside the tree-borne hut, the Tiokaha sighed as he looked around. The past few days of the Brakas' residence within the hut had done little damage to his house, excepting the now-bare pantry. However, the tumultuous egress which he had just forced it to make had not been so gentle. Several pieces of clay pottery had been shattered in the chaos, and half of his chairs (that is to say, one) were overturned. He grabbed his broom, and began to sweep up the mess. Minutes later, the Aspect circling below would find herself nearly struck by a shower of shattered pottery that landed beside her with a chorus of plunks! as it vanished beneath the opaque swamp water. It seemed the resident of the hut was still unaware of her presence below.

OOC: @Sparticus147 again

Edited by Burnmad
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IC: Marrow - The Nightmare Pits

As Drukarus rushed to intervene between the two grappling skakdi, Marrow tensed. His sixth sense was assaulted on all sides by unexpected powers. In addition to the water and ice of the two grappling skakdi, what he sensed more than anything else was an abundance of elemental Shadow. 

Aspects. And the one caught up with the two fighting skakdi stood out as exceptionally powerful. Miserix? That was said to be the name of the Aspect that Nektann kept caged. Perhaps it had broken loose in the battle. 

He held back from following Drukarus towards the two fighters, waiting to discern how the other beings would react to their arrival.


IC: Corrivalis - Nightmare Pits

 As the two newcomers charged into the room, Corrivalis instinctively readied his weapon. The Ba-Skakdi was not from the warband, and the Mesi definitely wasn't. But what was he supposed to do? The question of whose orders he was supposed to follow was still being settled. 

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

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

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

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

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IC: Sans, Metru-Koro Skies


The laughter abruptly ended due to Sans crashing into the ground.


Edited by Azibo
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In a world where heroes and villains battle for the fate of the universe‚ some people have normal lives and work normal jobs... Zimixes

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IC: Zaliyah The Razorfish 

A vicious rattling caught Zaliyah’s attention, and after carefully clambering a little further down the ship, she saw tangled fragments of shrapnel still spinning listlessly around the cargo bay, unburdened by physics. The surrounding walls were beginning to buckle in on themselves, and Zaliyah could feel a swell of unnatural gravity tugging at her from within the hold. The ship was lower than she thought, or the Ba-Toa was unusually adept at using his powers at a distance. 

Either way, his intent was clear, and Zaliyah more than happy to give him exactly what he wanted. 

“Engineer, close off the outlets in the chute engine, then hook up the auxiliary tank and open the valves on it and the main tank.” 

“With the outlets closed, that will lead to a pressure buildup in-”

“I know. Do it.” 

The Vahki set to work, then began to climb up to join Zaliyah. She waited until it was alongside her before gently putting up her hand to stop its advance. 

“I’m sorry, but we need to get rid of as much weight as we can. That includes you,” she sighed, “I need the pilots to keep what’s left of the ship airborne.” 

“Very well,” the Vahki nodded, “This unit will utilise a loose levitation disk to descend.”

“No, we can't risk you being captured. You need to stay with the engine.” 

“Catastrophic rupture likely in pressurised engine. This unit will be destroyed.”

“I know. But do you know what will happen in the people down there catch you? They don’t care about your status as near-sentient beings. At best, they’ll destroy you and use your parts for scrap. At worst, they’ll find a way to reprogram you to serve their cause, turn you against the hive.” 

“That cannot be allowed to happen,” a note of grim determination crept into the Vahki’s voice, “This unit will ensure it does not fall into enemy hands.” 

With palpable reluctance, the Vahki dropped back down into the tail of the ship, to monitor the ailing chute equipment. As she prepared to send the android to its doom, Zaliyah felt a familiar pang of guilt, the same feeling that plagued her when she was forced to leave a comrade behind on the battlefield. 

As far as she could tell, Ehlek’s Vahki weren’t truly sapient, at least not yet, but they were far more than mere machines as well. Zaliyah had heard the rumours that some of the more progressive Matoran had been campaigning for the advanced Vahki to be given equal rights, and if even the race renowned for its self-superior speciesism saw something in the Vahki, then there was definitely something there.

When the war was over, when the last followers of Mata Nui had been stamped out, she hoped the Vahki would be given the opportunity to find acknowledgement and equality along with the rest of the remaining races. 

Zaliyah extended her Herding Blade once more, playing the beam of raging red across the still-intact sections of exposed framework that still barely held the shredded ship together, melting and slicing until at last, the lower two thirds of the ship, including the cargo bay and chute engine, broke loose and tumbled away, taking the engineer Vahki with it. 

The remaining third of the ship lurched abruptly upwards, borne aloft by the active levitation disks, which now had considerably less weight to carry. The sudden shift almost threw Zaliyah loose. She clung on for dear life, waiting for the Vahki pilots to regain control as she tried to figure out what the karz her next move was going to be. 

Edited by Nato the Traveler
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BZPRPG Mercenary Group - The Outsiders - Description - History - Base

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IC: Viltia - Toa of the Green - Metru-Nui Refugees

Location - The Fau Swamp (7, 13), in the past

Revenge or Justice?


A very sweet smell slowly awoke Viltia. It was like waking up in the comfiest bed surrounded by only the cleanest and well manicured pillows and flowers. The smell made her stomach grumble in protest as it tickled her sense of smell with pleasure. It was pure bliss.

Slowly her optics blinked open and her spirits immediately fell. Oh, right. The swamp.

Deep shadows were cast everywhere she looked about. Based on their angles, it had to be past noon. Again. This was becoming quite a bad habit.

Viltia got up on her elbows. The massive Rahi-eating pitcher plant stood before her, the Metru Mantis still struggling. For a moment she was frightened, grasping her axe crossbow, but she relaxed when she remembered she had made the plant herself and that it seemed like the Metru Mantis was trapped for good.

The Matoran!

Viltia pushed aside the stray vines from the pitcher plant and the bugs that had tried making a home under her sleeping form and crawled over to him. The vines’ sickly sweet “rotting” fruit now overpowered her sense of smell instead of it being a beautiful wafting fragrance. The vines tensed up, but didn’t retaliate. That caused her to realize she should really come back here and absorb the plant after it had finished digesting the Metru Mantis. If she could even figure out how to do it. She didn’t want it to kill a stray Matoran, after all.

Looking down on the Matoran in the spotty light of day, Viltia remembered his name. It was Wire. He was an Onu-Matoran tech head from her village. His Heartlight was still lit, but Viltia couldn’t get him to awaken. At first she started to panic once more, but she tried to stay calm and reason out probabilities. That’s when she remembered from her books that Metru Mantis liked to inject their victims with a sleeping agent.

She sighed in relief at the memory.

Still, they shouldn’t stay here. Cradling Wire, Viltia attached her Toa tool to her back magnetically and started walking. Her organic protodermis muscles complained as she tried to safely converse the swamp. Either they were sore from barely being used when she was a Matoran and slave, or her new Toa muscles were, well, new and not used to being used yet.

After a couple hours of endless scares and backtracking to avoid what might be dangerous areas, Wire slowly awoke in her arms. He blinked his optics open a few times before focusing on Viltia’s mask, “Oh good. We’re alive.

Viltia snorted in amusement, the feeling laughter brought reminding her of years long past and slightly souring the gladness at seeing her friend awake. Still there was a smile on her face, “Yes we are, and I plan to stay that way.

She set him down and he started to stretch.

I decided to continue southwest, but I’m not quite sure which direction we’re heading. The moss grows weirdly here,” Viltia rubbed the moss on a large root and a beetle a quarter of the size of Wire slowly climbed away. The moss was gray and seemed to crumble under her touch, spreading through the air. Thankfully she had the foresight to be holding her breath. There was too much pollen and spores in the air already. Who knows what they might already be infected with. She backed away and walked over to where Wire had wandered.

She froze and went to grip her axe crossbow, momentarily forgetting it was on her back. Wire stood by a Rahi that was… just sitting there?

Viltia cautiously approached, slipping her axe from her back. Wire heard her coming and excitedly motioned to the Rahi, “This Colony Drone doesn’t have any mutations. I’ve looked it over. That means normal Rahi can survive here. That means we might survive passing through here. The relief in his voice hit her hard. She hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Viltia had been so focused on just surviving each moment as they came to her.

Focusing on the Colony Drone, Viltia saw it was normal size as it stood on it’s two legs. It held weapons, but non-threateningly, much like the horns on a Mata-Nui Cow. It looked at them both with kind, unintelligent eyes. A natural Rhotuka spinner protruded up from its back. Viltia was able to walk around it and lift its arms to check for mutations without any resistance from the Rahi itself.

They’re super peaceful, right?” Viltia asked.

Yeah, their Rhotuka are an energy that other Rahi can feed off of, so they don’t have many predators,” Wire responded, a wistful look in his optics, “I wish I could consume it too, I’m so hungry right now.

Viltia grimaced at that. She wished she knew what she had done yesterday to create that plant. She had done it so out of instinct that she wasn’t sure how it had even happened. She gripped her crossbow, closed her eyes, and tried to create a Madu fruit. She imagined it, she willed it to form, she even tried pulling the power she felt in her body out into the world. It didn’t work.

She was disheartened, but hope remained. She had done it before, she would do it again.
In the meantime she did what she was good at, reaching out to the Green around her, feeling it as if it were an extension of her. Perhaps she was so good at it from all the times she had stood still in her greenhouse and just let the plants talk to her, taking in the ambiance of bugs, water, and beauty.

Regardless of how naturally the power came to her, she quickly located a hearty plant that was a perfect example of its kind. She gathered enough food to satiate her and her friend, and the two ate as they continued to walk. They also decided on bringing the Colony Drone along with a vine leash. Hopefully it would discourage other Rahi from attacking them.

As they walked they ran into a couple more Colony Drones and started a small herd of protection. There was doubt if they would be protected or if the pair would just get the Colony Drones killed. That question was answered in the worst and best way possible.

There was one very tense moment where a Muaka with two heads and four arms approached them. It seemed to have gills that sparks occasionally drifted out of. It’s steps were near silent and it could be heard purring, but more like an engine than like a cat Rahi. With it came these deep vibrations, like someone only had the bass turned on on a speaker. The Muaka had casually walked over, gently grabbed a Colony Drone, and ate its fill from the Rhotuka before moving on. 

Viltia and Wire were left speechless and quite afraid during and after the encounter. They hadn’t heard or seen the Muaka coming. They had been completely oblivious to it. If they wouldn’t have had the Colony Drones, they would most likely be dead or dying.

The Colony Drones themselves remained unaffected and continued to follow them, occasionally eating grasses.

The noon sun was now long gone as the afternoon transitioned into evening. Direction still was elusive, but at least there were no Skakdi chasing them. And most importantly that Muaka hadn’t killed them. Viltia couldn’t stop thinking about it as they walked. She hadn’t heard it! It had been huge! It made her realize just how lucky she had been so far. How any misstep might have spelled her doom.

They went slower after that. More cautious and attentive to every fleeting noise amongst the constant cacophony that was the Fau Swamp.

It was only as the swamp began to thin out that Vilita realized they must have been going west or north or maybe even a combination of the two. They were getting close to the marshes again.

Now what should they do? How could they hope to meet up with any others? Were they doomed to be alone with themselves and die either in the swamp or the marsh?

No way! A Toa!

Viltia and Wire looked about confused and ready to fight. Who had said that? Viltia felt a vine being squeezed and looked up into the canopy. A green Matoran climbed down one of the large trees, a Kanoka disc on her back and a smile on her face, “We just keep finding more and more of you, don’t we? Name’s Wing, nice to meet ya!” The Matoran held out her hand, which Wire fist bumped. Viltia hesitantly did as well. She didn’t know this Matoran. She would have remembered this one. But then where did the Matoran come from? Did she live in this swamp?

You lot sure got lucky making it to us. When we were on our own we were having a horrible time of it, but in the end we found someone to help us. Well, not that I would have needed it. But the others. I’m sure you understand.” Wing motioned with her hand for the pair and Rahi to follow her, “We’ve got a village nearby, just you wait and see.

Wire held onto the Colony Drones, “Us lot? Are there more of us?” His voice was foggy with emotion.

Wing drew her Kanoka as she led them, “Quite a few of you. Former slaves, right? Poor lot. At least I only lost my home and friends. Step lively, we aren’t ever safe in this swamp.

Viltia felt all doubt dissipate and joy fill its void at the news. True, genuine joy. They hadn’t all died! She hadn’t failed Serene! She still had a village to protect!

Viltia happily followed after Wing, her concerns melting away in the moment. They could make a new start. Have a new life together again. Even if they never left this dangerous swamp, at least they would be together.

The green Matoran led them cautiously through the underbrush. Viltia took note of a large carapace hat she was wearing, but didn’t say anything. Eventually, in an area that was basically devoid of all water or muddy sludge, Wing stopped and waited.

Viltia looked about, confused. Then she saw a platform coming down from above. The village was in the trees! She heard a noise from behind her. “Serene! You made it!

A group of four Matoran walked out of the swamp. They were carrying a net full of Zamor Spheres, a Zamor Launcher with an attachment to increase ammo capacity, and there also looked to be a Rhotuka launcher.

One Matoran Viltia didn’t recognize. He wore the same type of chitinous hat Wing wore. The other three she knew immediately. The most prominent one was Beruv, the Ta-Matoran that had helped her make her old greenhouse. Viltia was so glad she was alive.

Beruv saw her fully, cocked her head, and said, “Wait, you’re not Serene… Viltia?

How Beruv knew it was her she didn’t know, but what Viltia did know was that her closest friend still lived. She dropped her axe crossbow and ran to embrace the Ta-Matoran. “Yes, yes it’s me!” Viltia was so happy to have her friend alive. She supposed compared to other Matoran they weren’t that close, but to Viltia they were best friends. She pulled the others into the hug as well. “I’m so glad you all are safe. Serene- She- Uh…” Vilita absent mindedly noticed a Shallows Cat watching them from some bushes, “Well I’m here to protect you all now.

How touching, SCUM.

A gale rocked the trees. Insects, leaves, and loose bits of swamp rushed past Viltia and the others. So strong was the wind she was forced to her knees to stop from moving. She made sure her mask was secure as she tried to find the source of the power. Her hatred boiled over as she saw Rancor. The very Le-Skakdi that led those that had enslaved her for years. She couldn’t even think straight so great was her anger.

The Toa of the Green tried to move towards him but was rebuffed by the raging winds. A gout of flame raced past. Then another. The wind started to twist around her. She positioned herself in front of her friends to protect them in any way. 

There were more flames now, twisting around with the wind. But they weren’t directed at anyone. Then suddenly the winds weren’t as fierce. Viltia looked up, back at Rancor. The absolute piece of trash of a Skakdi was holding hands with a red Skakdi that himself was using his free arm to hold a Matoran by the neck.

There was a flame twister rising above them, the wind so strong around it that it kept the trees away and stopped them from becoming aflame. The twister shrunk and looped upon itself, the flames growing hotter and more fierce. Viltia slightly stood up and the red Skakdi looked right at her, pulling his arm a little tighter around the struggling Matoran. The intention was clear.

Viltia started to panic. She had just gotten free of these wretched slavers and gotten her friends back. Was she going to lose it all again? This time for good? She tried desperately to call upon the Green without using her Toa tool. Her power sat dormant, unreachable despite filling her body. Almost like a flower high up on a cliff that Viltia could see, but couldn’t get at to pick it. She started to panic like she had so often these last three days.

Her mind started to dim as all she could concentrate on was Rancor, the one who had done all this to her. The one who had taken everything from her. He had inadvertently caused the death of all her Toa protectors. He had used herself and her friends as slaves, forcing them to toil for far longer and far harder than they could handle. Her mind kept focusing her hatred for all Skakdi onto him at that moment. All she saw, all she was aware of, was him and her pure, dripping with malice, hatred for him. He personally had killed one of her friends. He was worthy of death.

So deep in her mental trance, Viltia didn’t notice the fire turn into a single ball, wind whipping it around and causing it to spin rapidly. She didn’t see when the wind was released and the ball shot past Viltia and her friends, sweeping up into the air where Rancor had seen the platform descend. The world shook as the sphere impacted with one of the buildings of the village. Large limbs snapped off and were flung flaming to the swamp floor. The nearest buildings and platforms simply splinted to pieces and were shot out as burning shrapnel. The fire burst and scorched everything it didn’t immediately destroy. Sixteen Matoran died instantly, completely unaware of what was going on. The village was over half destroyed, and the other half was in tatters. Dozens of beings were injured. Only Torch absorbing as much of the fire as he could up in the village stopped the damage from being worse.

Viltia only saw Rancor.

Her mask started to glow, indicating its first usage. She took no notice. She only saw Rancor and how he should die. The Shallows Cat she had seen earlier staggered into the clearing, as if it were fighting its own body. It hissed, the nodules on its back starting to light up with increasing intensity. It sprang forward, jaws glowing.

Viltia focused on only Rancor, her concentration only on him.

The Shallows Cat opened its mouth to reveal its jaws. The jaws were projected from its mouth, another pair three times the size appearing before Rancor. The Shallows Cat snapped shut its jaws and the floating jaws snapped shut as well, crunching down on Rancor’s body.

Rancor cried out in pain, confused at the attack, as he had been waiting for the Shallows Cat to get in range of his short sword. The projected jaws snapped closed again and again and again, all over his body. He thrashed about, trying to escape, swinging his sword wildly and dropping the hand of the other Skakdi. The red Skakdi stabbed his captive Matoran several times in the Heartlight and lunged for the Shallows Cat, killing it as well.

Viltia suddenly came back to herself, mind reeling from the experience. What had just happened? What had she just done?

The red Skakdi saw Rancor lying there. The Le-Skakdi’s Heartlight was out. His body was mangled by the force behind the jaws. Torn to shreds. The Ta-Skakdi looked back at their destruction, noticed not everyone was dead, and rushed forward to take another hostage. A knife flew past him, paused in mid air, then swung around and struck him in his thigh. He howled in pain and fell to one knee as the knife found the organic protodermis beneath his natural armor. A member of Lariska’s species finished climbing down from one of the nearby trees behind him, showcasing a Kanohi of Rebounding. He sprinted to the Skakdi, stripping away both his knife and the Skakdi’s. The Skakdi begrudgingly let him, holding up both hands in surrender.

Viltia desperately searched about. Where was her axe? Where was it? She knocked aside flaming wood until she found it. She held it up, hand on the crossbow trigger. That Skakdi had to die! He was worthy of it! She would end him now and the world would be a better place.

Her aim drifted due to how tired she was and how she was still reeling from the intense focus she had just experienced. But she wouldn’t let that stop her. She started to march up the Skakdi. She wouldn’t miss if the barrel was touching his Heartlight.

A strong hand yanked the axe crossbow from her grip. She looked about, panicking once more. Who was it this time?!

Strong red hands took her shoulders. A Toa? Red? But Rancor had killed him.

Focus, sister,” Torch said again. Viltia swayed in his hands, light headed, having missed his words before and when he spoke again.

Viltia, still thinking him to be one of her long lost protectors, leaned in close, closing her optics. She was completely drained from living off of fear and rage the last few days. She let herself drift in his warm grip, pulling close, reminded of her greenhouse and better times.

She was asleep before Torch could even react to her suddenly hugging him.

OOC: Part 4 of 5

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--------- “BRUH” -Makuta, probably ---------


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IC: Oreius | The Coliseum

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a Vahki standing in a slightly nicer lobby than the one Oreius had just left behind. The Toa of Fire felt his heart sink at the sight of the robotic soldier, but forced himself to walk calmly out of the elevator as though he was meant to be there. At the sound of his steps,  the Vahki swiveled its head around, its eyes flickering. 

"Halt. You are not authorized to proceed."

The Vahki turned fully toward him, its stun staff extended in his direction. Oreius obediently came to a stop, his mind racing to come up with a plan. He deliberately kept his breathing slow and even, even as the Vahki tilted its head, scanning him from mask to feet.

"I'm just here to—"

"You match the description of a criminal last seen fleeing Le-Metru," it said. "You are under arrest."

Oreius let his eyes drift across the room, taking in all the information he could. The window was an ever-available exit if he needed it (the fall, on the other hand, might be inescapable). The Vahki was standing slightly askew, keeping weight off its left foot. His mask highlighted several other weak points across its body. The reception desk was empty.

"You've got the wrong guy," the Toa said, letting a hint of irritation seep into his voice. "I'm—"

"You are under arrest," the robot repeated. Its staff began to hum. Oreius couldn't remember for the life of him which colour of Vahki came with which power, and he didn't feel like waiting to find out. He sprang to the side and conjured a blast of flames that knocked the robot's aim off as it fired. The energy fizzled harmlessly into the wall and disappeared.

He turned, another fireball already cradled in his fingers, and tossed it into the air. The Vahki dropped to its four-legged mode, servos whirring as it ducked under the projectile. Its mouthpiece glowed: it was summoning a disk. Oreius made a fist, and the corresponding burst of heat made the air shimmer. A fist of fire grabbed the Vahki's weak back leg and wrenched it back. The heat was beginning to warp the metal when the fist suddenly evaporated, leaving only sparks behind.

The Vahki fired its disk. His fire temporarily useless, Oreius struck the ground, and a barrier of ice sprang up in response. When the disk struck, the entire slab of ice was suddenly catapulted into the air before shattering against the ceiling.

He was already moving. Before his opponent could get another shot off, he ducked in close and stabbed his sword through one of the weak points in its armour. The Vahki chittered as though in pain, but he knew better. These automatons could no more feel than they could think. Two of its legs now out of commission, the other two scrabbled against the floor in a hopeless attempt to keep its body upright. It was only distracted for a second: before it could regain control of the situation, the Toa had pulled his sword free and thrust it through the side of the robot's skull. Its eyes blinked out, and the robotic soldier collapsed fully to the ground, motors and gears whirring their last. 

The battle had only lasted seconds, but Oreius knew that was long enough for the Vahki to have alerted its brethren. They were surely on their way now, scuttling up the elevator shafts and vaulting up the stairs. They were implacable and merciless, and he was cornered.

His eyes snapped to the exit he'd seen earlier, then over to the disk the Vahki had launched. Something resembling a plan began to take shape in his mind, and he took hold of it like a lifeline. There wasn't time to come up with something else, not here, in the heart of his enemy's power. He snatched up the disk as he threw a fireball with his free hand. The projectile grew in size as it traveled, then burst through the window. The sound of shattering glass was quickly swept away by the wind.

Oreius picked up one of the Vahki's staffs. Before he could think better of his idea, he began to run across the lobby. Heartbeat thundering in his ears as it desperately pumped adrenaline through his veins, the Toa of Fire leapt through the broken window and into the air.

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IC: Gaius, Fau Swamp/Mar-Koro

The village hadn't changed since Gaius left it.  The Swamp Toa had, though.  Superficially, at least.  His armor was muddy, his tools unpolished, and the sack on his back swung heavy with raw ores.  He let the sack fall hard on the porch of Ollodor, the blacksmith, pounded on the door, then directly marched towards the public bath without so much as waiting for an answer.  He left his tools at the wall then climbed inside the largest of the few pools inside the large building.  The mud dissolved into the water, though he didn't mind at all.

"Hey, do you mind?"  A Le-Matoran looked at the Toa disapprovingly.

"Sorry, some things can't wait, I guess."

"Whatever Guy."  The Le-Matoran left to enjoy a less muddied pool, leaving Gaius alone with his thoughts and aches.  Twice he asked the attendents to reheat the water, and he enjoyed every moment in the basin he could.

Gaius skipped dinner, going directly to bed once he ignored the world long enough.  He inscribed a few lines in his journal before tucking it back under his pillow and drifitng off into sleep.  When he woke up, it was already noon, and a note had been slipped under his door.

"Thanks for the ores, Guy.  Work has been going well while you've been gone.  Included in this note is a map from Mar-Koro to an old (abandoned) mining site.  I should need about another sack full's worth, I'm afraid.  Good luck, see you when you're back!"

After one elongated sigh and two cups of coffee, Gaius had his things prepared and supplies gathered for another rock quest.

Edited by Azibo
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In a world where heroes and villains battle for the fate of the universe‚ some people have normal lives and work normal jobs... Zimixes

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IC: Iradra - Metru-Koro

The crackling and rumbling of the energy weapons destroying the village's buildings rung in Iradra's ears as she made her way through the chaotic battlefield. Moments earlier she had narrowly avoided a crumbling two-story building that had almost crushed her, the dust from its collapse caking her bronze armour and white robes, muting her colours to a dull grey as she made her way through the chaos. Eyes darting about, she noticed two figures, a Toa of Gravity from the looks of it, and... Turaga Sans?

Iradra sprinted over, kneeling by the Turaga's broken form. From what she could tell, he'd fallen from a great height, the cracked ground he'd left underneath him indicating he'd been using his mask before he made impact. The Toa of Light had a hard time figuring whether the Turaga was alive or not through the dust clouding the air and settling on his prone form, but he was clearly gravely injured. Sighing, she pulled up her hand, and began glowing her healing light upon the Turaga's broken body, hoping against hope that she could save him.



IC: Druu and Amarth - The Wombat

Druu grimaced as his eye beam was cut short. He'd been aware of the capabilities of these nullifiers, but experiencing its powers turned out to be frustrating. As the ship stabilised again, he came to a standstill once more, just out of Poroka's reach for the moment, though he knew that wouldn't last. With a malicious grin twisting up one corner of his mouth, Druu retrieved a lighter from on his person, flicking a small flame into being. Quickly bringing it up in front of his mouth, what happened next could only be described as Druu breathing an inferno to life in front of him, tendrils of flame roaring forth down the ship's corridor. Not one to be one-upped by yet another nullification, he made sure to try and fire his impact beams again in the direction of where he last saw the Vahki, just in case it dared take its nullifying effects off of that power for that moment.

Meanwhile, noticing that her blades were now out of reach, Amarth quickly retrieved her gun, and while standing next to though also behind Druu, she quickly but calmly aimed it, ready to open fire where she'd last seen Poroka once Druu's torrent of flames was used up.


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IC: Miserix | Nightmare Pits

The carrion lord of nightmares slunk closer, perched in his ephemeral realm of the Dreaming with drool on his lips, his bulging eyes and billowing, heaving lungs growing excited by the sight below as the veils quickly began to part. To taste the dreams, to sip upon the visions of a world unreal, unhinged, unspoken save in dying screams -- he hungered for them. A single drop of oily spit began to fall...

Dark roiling sparks of violent shadows skipped across the ground, arced and lanced into the air, and filled the vision of those assembled with stars of black and nights of horror. Coarse chunks of ash from the pit below floated by the face of Miserix as she crawled through Boss’s form, working him with her jarring puppetry and honeyed memories. She spent far more time with him than in the sphere these days. Miserix couldn’t help but feel her real prison was the warlord rather than his childhood toy. Her children wriggled on his form, excited for their mother to come home. 

The knife cut through Barius with jagged imprecision. She pulled her arms about, struggling with him as Barius tried to get a better grip. She reveled in the life leaving Barius by the blood dripping down her arm. She bid her time, waited so long, and now the next stage of her great ascension drew closer. So fascinated by her sure victory, she found herself caught off guard by the arrival of two new skakdi. Her shadowy eyes shifted to the side of her head for a better view, and she sensed a mystical presence buried in the skull of the mesi warrior slinking behind the bold newcomer. Was Spiriah still at work? 

She missed the knuckleduster slipping off the hand of her puppet...

OOC: @Burnmad, I think it's fair to say Barius can get the knuckleduster with the arrival of the newcomers.  @Sparticus147, @Keeper of Kraata, @Nato the Traveler


Also, because more than one player is involved in this fight now, I am posting both the profiles for both Boss and Miserix here.

Edited by Unreliable Narrator
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Happy chat.


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IC [Coliseum]:

Any good will Ohrash might have just earned evaporated as the hidden door was flung open, revealing Stannis: very much alive and his face very much not-molten. Lies. Deceit. BETRAYAL. It was like that disloyal Varxii wretch all over again. That’s what I get for trusting Toa. 

There’s really just something fundamentally broken about them, isn't there. Here, have a magic rock, go be big heroes. All prior commitments and obligations forgotten. No wonder they threw loyalty to the hounds as soon as the next so-called worthy cause came along. Just rush in, you’re a spirit-blessed Toa-hero, you can do no wrong. And to karz with the long-term effects of your actions, you won’t have to deal with those, you’ll be long gone by then, off on the next big quest.

But what could you expect from “Mata Nui’s chosen people.” and their entire corrupt, diseased society. They had been more than happy to build atop the sweat and blood of my, our people, but none of that prosperity ever made its way back to us. We tried asking nicely at first. Did you know that? Of course not. They won’t tell you that side of it. But we did. We presented our case; laid out all the facts. And we were ignored. So we demanded to be heard. And were told to mind our own business, there were more pressing matters. There were always more pressing matters. So we made our support for the order conditional on fair treatment. They threatened us with sanctions for not maintaining their status quo. And that’s when it became clear no amount of demands, even begging, would do. So we stopped asking, left the order - and started taking. Of course in their eyes that made us monsters and they were quick to label us accordingly. They were determined to be an obstacle to a better tomorrow for all, so we had no choice but to remove them with all the necessary force. 

We almost did it, too - if their great spirit hadn’t turned out to be actually as fragile as we said their belief was. All the progress, the liberated lands, everything south of the silver sea - lost to us. Even our successful conquering of Metru-Nui had been a pyrrhic victory, costing countless troops and half my fellow lords. No to mention that coward Takadox just walking away. It had cost us our victory and our enemies their home. But even that much loss had not been a high enough price, apparently. 

One last time I’d tried reaching out, offering peace, against my better judgment. Zaliyah hadn’t believed it either. She was proven right. That decrepit old fool of a Turaga had spat in our face. The world had ended and still they persisted in their delusions. This was a rot that needed to be burned away until even the ashes disintegrated.

Stannis walked forward, self-righteous and confident as always. And of course he was spewing his inane preachings. While standing at the center of the disembodied head of his DEAD deity. The irony would have been luxuriously delicious if it wasn’t so infuriating. His reality had come crashing down and yet he still. Kept. Preaching. I shoved his mask, my supposed prize, into my suit’s pocket. By now, I was seething. That angry fire in the pit of my stomach had simmered down as of late, admittedly. I’d lost a bit of steam these past few days. It had all just been so very, very tiring. But this, this brought it right back up to temperature. How I ever thought there could be a chance for peace with such ignorant, rampant zealotry I’ll never know.

I had been looking forward to watching Metru-Koro getting obliterated from a distance, but now...now I had the chance to do some purging myself. A wicked grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. Yes, I was going to enjoy myself.

Stannis had barely finished his first verse as I shot forward at great speed, my suit propelling me faster than its bulk suggested, towards the maskless Toa standing right before me. 

“This is exactly…”

It would take Saybo a moment to put on his mask and that made him the easiest target. I seized him by the shoulder and waist.

“...why we can’t…”

I spun and hurled his body at Ohrash with force. Sometimes you just need to beat a guy with another guy.

“...have nice things!” I hissed.

These two momentarily dealt with, I glanced towards Stannis, just as he rattled off his second verse and punctuated it by hurling his spear into one of my Vahki guards. It went down, but wasn’t out. The skewered enforcer collapsed to the floor, but as they lacked the ability to feel pain or go into shock, it responded right away, raising the alarm with its fellow Vahki and alerting the hive. With the alarm raised, these traitors would have to hurry to try and get rid of me, before the entire security force of the coliseum descended upon them. Then, the Vahki promptly opened fire upon the preachy, spear-less Stannis with its Kanoka disk and staves from its prone position. 

It’s companion raised it’s staves as well, but only got one shot off before being cut down by a blur of green shooting forth from another hiding spot. I heard the noise, spun to face the new assailant and thought I recognized her from surveillance footage as well as she dropped her sword and pulled out her Cordak and Midak blasters. My ocular uplink flashed her name and confirmed her as one of the duo that had killed Carapar before the fall. Then it was a safe bet her partner was nearby...good. Let them watch as I tear this gnat limb from limb. But first…the Toa rudely interrupted my thoughts with a barrage of missiles and orbs, the latter notably darkening the room as the blaster drew in the surrounding light to fire.

Instinctively, I called upon the power of my mask, telekinetically stopping one of the Cordak rounds in mid air, causing it to explode prematurely, detonating the others as well, hopefully right in Skyra’s face as she hurtled towards me. The resulting shockwave staggered and pushed me back several feet and I felt the skin under my mask blister as one of the Midak rounds grazed my armor, singing the left pauldron before dissipating as heat.

I was just about to regain my footing as my armour's proximity ping went off right behind me and I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my back. The warsuit took the brunt once again, throwing sparks and my interface flickered with interference for a second. But the tip of whatever had the audacity to backstab me had managed to slip between the plates and draw blood. A split-second of dizziness overcame me and I noticed my suit's power readout dropped a little.

I grunted in pain, didn’t bother to see who was behind me first and instead opted to spin around while throwing a mighty warsuit-assisted backhand in a low arc to hit them with. 

I wasn’t even conscious of the words leaving my mouth as I did it.

“I’m going to break you! And when I am done I’ll go to the ruins you called a village and plant my flag in the ashes!”

OOC: @EmperorWhenua@Kal the Guardian@~Xemnas~@Snelly@Toru Nui@Tarn

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IC: Drukarus (The Nightmare Pit)

Approaching the two struggling skakdi, his maul swung forth and readied in his right hand, his clawed gauntlet tensed but loose. From what Drukarus could tell from the sight was this, these two skakdi were severely injured, most likely from the fight that was occurring just moments before his arrival. In addition, these two skakdi were obviously fighting, not just out of some petty rivalry or some based debacle, but out of a need for dominance, to establish leadership. This was obviously no simple fight, this was one meant to demonstrate strength, and for an outsider to intervene could disgrace the both of them, but depending on whoever wins, this could be an opportunity for himself.

Charging forth, Drukarus reached down with his clawed gauntlet and grabbed at the skakdi on top, either not noticing or not caring about the knife that was plunged into Barius's gut. With a grip on Barius around his waist, not hard enough to injure him but certainly not gentle, Drukarus tossed the skakdi as far as he could away from the demon-possessed fiend he was on top of, with Barius landing back towards the other spectators.

With Drukarus, now standing above the prone form of what he hoped was Boss, Drukarus essentially dropped the full weight of his maul onto the skakdi's chest, his grip tight on the maul's handle, ready to channel his element of gravity to pin the malevolent fiend and preventing it from escaping.

OOC: @Unreliable Narrator @Burnmad @Keeper of Kraata @Conway @Nato the Traveler

IC: Apex (Morangad Hut)

Just nearly avoiding the falling debris, Apex looked up, equal parts startled and annoyed. Whatever was hiding within this hut better hope it wasn't a skakdi, and if not a skakdi, better hope it could satisfy Apex's needs. Taking a few steps back, Apex readied her horns...And then lunged her neck forwards towards the base of the tree, a large thunking sound sounding out, twice more did Apex do this. Finishing her knocking call, Apex stared up towards the entrance of the hut, her wings buzzing ready to fly her up and out of the way of any sudden assault that may come.

OOC: @Burnmad Again

IC: Gore Fury (THE CUBE)

"...Cook me something up from what I have and impress me enough to help you. You crazy fool of a chef.

That was all that Cravious had to say to stir Gore into action. With Cravious's help, Gore soon found the kitchen and began familiarizing himself with all of its contents. More fish, herbs and spices, plain but effective if used right, a stove grill and oven, and a few bottles of wine...Gore knew what he could cook here.

Taking a few filets a fish, enough for himself, his gracious host, and the skakdi woman that greeted him at the door, Gore proceeded to season the filets with the basics of salt and pepper, making sure that a tasteful balance of either was evenly distributed across the filets. Tossing the fish into the oven, the oven just finishing up pre-heating as he finished his artful seasoning. Now then, time for the fun part.

Prepping a skillet with some nice unsalted butter, the quality kind of course, Gore went to work chopping and dicing up several gloves of garlic and shallots before adding them to the buttered pan, with another artful dashing of salt and pepper to go alongside it. Working the skillet till a nice golden glow could be seen, he popped off a bottle of some nice aged white wine. Gore then began to dripple it into the skillet, unnecessarily pouring the wine into the skillet from over his head while he tossed and stirred the mixture into the skillet with his free hand on the skillet's handle. With the wine added, Gore thought for a moment, wondering if anything else needed to be added before checking the stores for something, finding an oddly shaped yellow fruit. Cutting up the fruit and taking a taste, Gore was greeted with a tense taste of citrus and knew that it was the perfect complement for what he was cooking. Hand squeezing the yellow fruit into the skillet, Gore continued on his cooking venture with another lovely stick of unsalted butter, the quality kind still, slowly and methodically whisking it in till a nice velvety mix was left. With a pinch of parsley, the sauce was made.

Pulling the cooked fish filets from the oven, Gore pulled them off of the pan, somehow managing to get all of the nice crispy skin off with it. Prepping a plate for each of the filets, Gore presented and prepped the nearby table for Cravious, himself, and the skakdi woman who he made sure to give an invitation too for the meal that was to come. With Cravious taking his seat, Gore with one of his long handled spoons, spooned out a spoonful of the lovely white sauce before pouring onto the filet. With an artistic technique and skill, a perfect square onto the filet before tapping it, breaking the tension as the soak began to soak into the fish.

OOC: @Kal the Guardian

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IC: Barius - Nightmare Pits

The greyish Skak grunted as he was thrown a respectable distance away from Bosserix. Thankfully, he landed on his back, rather than on the knife that was stuck in his front. Also thankfully, he managed to seize the knuckle duster from Boss' hand before the newcomer grabbed him. Slipping it onto his right hand, he glanced back at the spectators, which now included a Mesi that had entered with the new Skak. He noticed the purple one had spines rather than frills, much like the gal that had been hanging with the Matoran at that scrapshop. He couldn't remember either of their names.

I won't have any of you think of me as weak, he thought at them. He wrapped his left hand around the handle of the knife that was buried in his gut, and with a shout that was certain not to go unnoticed by either Boss or Drukarus, pulled it free of his abdomen. Blood poured from the wound in even greater volume as he forced himself to his feet. Standing up after what came next would have been much more difficult; he clenched the newly brass-adorned fist, channeling his elemental power over ice. Crystal blossomed from his wound, spreading to cover up and seal the hole, ice freezing to his flesh. The pain was great: A searing, white-hot burning that seemed more appropriate for fire than for ice, as his nerves screamed out in distress. But he ignored their call; whatever the ice did to him, it couldn't be worse than the ever-growing threat of exsanguination.

He took a shaky step back towards the Skak, careful not to move his torso too much, lest the ice within him crack, or worse, carve his insides even more. His grit and determination, as well as sheer fortitude, were apparent to all, but so was the pure exhaustion and closeness to death of his present state. Nonetheless, his voice rang out as confident as ever, though a great deal more hoarse: "Who the #### are you?"

OOC: @Unreliable Narrator @Sparticus147 @Nato the Traveler @Keeper of Kraata @Conway

IC: Morangad - His Home, Fau Swamp

He paused in his tracks as the tree his house was nestled in shook. Was this the day some aggressive denizen of the Swamp saw fit to level his home and force him to rebuild from scratch? It had happened before, but he did not know if his body could handle doing it again. Gripping his spear tightly, he rushed back out the door, to the edge of the platform at the front of the hut, where he looked over to see... another Aspect. And the Aspect looking back up at him would see, likely for the first time in millennia, the face of a Tiokaha peering down at her. "What do you want, that you assault the tree I call home?" Morangad called to her.

OOC: @ Spart again

Edited by Burnmad
Formatting, also the censor just baletes bad words now :(
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IC: Waveahk (The Coliseum, Throne Room)

Waveahk was sent flying into Pridak's own throne by the warlord's backhand. Still keeping a firm hand on his weaponry, Waveahk began firing his concussive Xian revolver at Pridak. It would probably do little damage, but perhaps it would inspire the Toa to do something helpful, rather than waste time monologuing.

@Vezok's Friend@EmperorWhenua@Tarn@Snelly@~Xemnas~@Kal the Guardian

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1 hour ago, Burnmad said:

IC: Barius - Nightmare Pits

He took a shaky step back towards the Skak, careful not to move his torso too much, lest the ice within him crack, or worse, carve his insides even more. His grit and determination, as well as sheer fortitude, were apparent to all, but so was the pure exhaustion and closeness to death of his present state. Nonetheless, his voice rang out as confident as ever, though a great deal more hoarse: "Who the #### are you?"

IC: Marrow - Nightmare Pits

The wounded skakdi was a monster of a specimen. The sheer weight of him as he dragged himself across the ground, the size of his elemental aura... if this was the skakdi Marrow suspected him to be, then more than a few of his Mesi brethren had burned in the flames spewed by his exo-suit. 

"We are your reckoning," Marrow snarled, standing before the wounded monster, "The time of your warband is at an end." 

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Embers - A Bionicle Saga - Chapters/Review

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

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

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

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IC, Aurax: Coliseum

Oh, son of a-

Aurax barely had time to register Saybo being literally thrown at him. He tried to sidestep the flying Toa but was a bit too slow- Saybo clipped Aurax’s shoulder and the Toa of Plasma staggered and fell on his rear end. 

Grrr... to #### with it...

Aurax got up, a fire in his eyes. As soon as he saw Waveahk get backhanded into the throne, Aurax unfolded his scythe, ran at the warlord, and, when he got close, did a (very cool) slide on the smooth floor. As he passed Pridak, Aurax aimed the blade of his scythe at the back of the warsuit’s knee, aiming directly for a gap in the plates. 

OOC: @Vezok's Friend

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IC: Rose - Pridak's Throne Room

Rose then, with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, burst through the wall she'd been hidden behind. Her optics burned like blue blazes as she stood before the unfolding fight. Pridak was no pushover--and she liked that. Perhaps, even, she'd found her equal: someone worthy of fighting. What she didn't like was watching him try to hurt Skyra.

Her riot shield was raised to protect her as she aimed her flamethrower at the League leader and unleashed a continuous stream of fire upon Pridak, intent on cooking the Takean. The Ta-Toa had been waiting for this moment--since the Silver Sea conflict, since the League invaded the last bastion of safety in the Matoran universe, since she watched Carapar turn to slag before her optics and felt nothing but pride in her heart. 

Since her home was razed and she watched everyone and everything she cared about die.

"The only thing turning to ashes will be you."

@EmperorWhenua@Snelly@Toru Nui@~Xemnas~@Kal the Guardian@Vezok's Friend

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(shout out to max)

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IC: Administrator | Ruin of Air

“I don’t speak the rituals of your kind,” the voice of the Administrator replied flatly. “If I could speak the taboo symbols into power, no aspect would store their power where I bore witness. I am blessed with being unable to turn from the light of the Builders. And yet, imagine how my power would grow if I could read those spiraling icons besmirching my halls. With each foolish act of treachery stashed away I would grow ever more wise, ever more perfected. I could use the very acts of heresy against those who committed themselves to turning from the light. You would have an overseer of darkness and death, a monstrous lord who coveted all that hung deep in the hearts of those who dare not enter my realms.”

The Administrator paused for a time. Three beings used to waiting did so together as the implications of the Administrator’s words hung in the air. 

“The last of you to walk inside this room was an aspect who desired birth above all things. These carvings are a part of the ritual she placed here. The other rooms contain further writings.”


OOC: @Azibo, @Toa Fanixe

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Happy chat.


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IC: Dar Poroka & Company | Aboard the Wombat

On the bridge, the blue Vahki beeps once. The Wombat's rapid descent slows, then it careens to one side, nearly throwing Knichou from his perch. But the Fe-Toa's grip holds fast, and he remains to observe the pulse generator as it fires yet again upon the village.

The red Vahki has no specific target in mind, but this particular blast just so happens to be the one to obliterate Turaga Sans's hut. It collapses into a heap of smoking rubble.

Metru-Koro's defenders attempt to return fire, but Ehlek's weapons have them pitifully outranged. Their bolts arc gracefully through the air only to come crashing down into the sands outside the village.

* * *

The green Vahki whirs as it reaches telepathically out to whichever of its kin remain aboard the other vessels. The League airships have taken a great deal of damage, but there may yet be hope of rescuing their captains. 

* * *

The brown Vahki beeps its warning again. "You are in violation of several major airspace codes," it repeats. "Cease your resistance."

Then Druu fires. The attempted use of his impact vision only results in him looking strangely cross-eyed for a moment, but the fire encounters no such nullification. It is at this moment that the Wombat banks into its sharp turn, throwing Druu and Amarth against the wall as the fire billows forth.

The brown Vahki blinks. "Anti-inflammatory measures deployed," it says to no one in particular. But before it has voiced a single syllable, the sprinklers installed in the ceiling have already been activated by the heat. A torrent of flame-reterdant blasts down upon the combatants, covering everyone and everything in a sticky white powder.

* * *

Poroka run at new person. But ship make hard turn, and Poroka go crash into wall.

Not hurt. You're ok, Poroka! Let's go! Stand up on two feet.

Suddenly big fire! Then it's... snowy? Poroka look at new people. Look like snow people now. Whole ship white. What the heck?

Big smile. Two big steps forward. Swing swords at new person!


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IC: Knichou, Metru-Koro Airspace, Underside of the Wombat

Knichou was nearly flung off the Wombat when it made a sharp turn, but with the handholds and footholds he had made with his metal powers, he was able to stay attached, even if he knew that even later that night his arms would probably still be feeling sore from that jerk. After taking a second to stabilize himself, he used all his strength to pull himself even tighter against the surface of the Wombat. He willed the metal of the hull to move, thinning the armor of the wombat so a bar of protosteel could form into an arc around Knichou's upper torso. Knichou's arms were above this ring, so he could finally let go of the hull with his hands to rest his back on this loop of metal, also wrapping his arms around the sides for extra support. It wasn't the most comfortable arrangement, but it would give the engineer enough support to use his hands without worrying about being thrown from the ship.

Now Knichou was able to turn his full focus on the weapon before him. It was a large cannon, taking up about as much space on the bottom of the ship as Knichou himself. An array of thick cables could be seen spouting from various areas of the contraption, some clearly marked, some not. Some thick cables were for power, smaller shielded bundles were for control circuitry, while others that were attached closer to the front were clearly for coolant, to prevent the energy blasts from melting the long, blade-like antennae where the projectiles were created. Near the rear of the weapon were two tubes that appeared to be connected to some hydraulic system.

From behind the weapon, Knichou couldn't get a good look at the exact structure of the pair of devices that generated the pulse bolts, but Knichou could see that every time the weapon fired, two hydraulic cylinders at the back pushed laterally outwards, tilting these blades so that their tips moved together to start charging the reaction. When firing, these cylinders contracted again to prevent any further, uncontrolled reaction between the two blades. It was an unconventional system, but it was clearly effective. Whatever this weapon is, this fire control group looked less like a meticulously planned and simplistic system and more like an improvisation to adapt some sort of exotic Toa tool into an oversized, remote-controllable, vehicle mounted weapons platform. Perhaps the designer wanted a version that wasn't limited in power and size by what a Toa could carry?

The pair of cables connected to the center of the rear of the weapon appeared to carry the hydraulic fluid that operated the two cylinders in this fire control mechanism. Knichou theorized that if he severed these, the hydraulic system could no longer bring the tips together to fire, but the delicate electronic circuitry would be intact, making this weapon easily repairable if he was able to salvage it later. Destroying the mechanism behind the arms of the fire control mechanism instead of any control circuits or power cables also greatly reduced the risk of the weapon going haywire or having a power surge and blowing up in Knichou's face.

Knichou formed a steel knife in his right hand and waited for the moment after the blaster fired, when the cylinders would be in the retracted, non-firing position. Bracing himself in case of some sort of misfire, Knichou cut the tubes, which began spewing form streams of liquid protodermis that splashed against Knichou's visor.

Edited by BULiK
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Visit www.BZPRPG.com to view my project of archiving BZPower's RPGs, and also access the BZPower Roleplaying Wiki

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IC: Tuakana | Ruins of Fire


They had not spoken for some time. Their mind was busy trying to stay abreast of each development in this puzzle. Events were passing like water. Seconds trickled through their helpless fingers. Time's tide threatened to catch them in its undertow.

But the sight of this strangely familiar glyph burned through their confusion like a flame consuming dusty cobwebs, and they spoke. Their old voice sounded over the bubbling of lava and the creaking of ancient machinery.


They lifted a wizened hand as if to touch the rune that still glowed faintly high above them. It whispered of power in words that eluded meaning, in tones that could not be heard. It beckoned irresistibly. 

Shadows swirled under their feet. Their hand still raised, they began to rise. Slowly, slowly, inch by patient inch, they ascended on a rippling pillar of darkness, fingers stretched out to claim the precious taboo. 

@Vezok's Friend

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