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IC: Gorro - Onu-Koro, The Unfortunate Fikou

It was a truly frightful consternation which beheld Gorro, for he could not decide which unnerved him more - that this Matoran somehow knew, with assumedly some form of arcane prescience, that others dreamt in much the same manner as themself; or that Gorro did not share this same ability. To say his host’s mannerisms were peculiar would be an understatement. They were bordering on mania, and the Cy-Toa sitting upon their sofa presumed he would shortly follow as his head swam with ominous questions and terrible assumptions.

“Yes...” he answered after a lengthy pause, “here I am…” One of these dreaded questions roiled within him (or perhaps it was just his stomach making another odd noise) and finally breached the surface, shattering the murk which so plagued his mind, though he could not stop his hands from shaking with both trepidation and outright terror, folding them into his chest. “D- do you know if there’s a… a cure? Some way to- to make them stop?”

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IC: Nika | ???

It took every bit of strength in his body, and more than a couple of cracked ribs, but Nika managed to catch himself on the metal beam that Pae had aimed for. He clambered up until he could just balance atop it like one of those Le-Koronan tree-dancers, and immediately took stock of the situation, which was still not very good -- the only two options for escape seemed to either be a straight plummet down into a morass of crabs, or to take the standing long jump across the alleyway to the next building over.

And risk plummeting into a morass of crabs. Anyway.

"Karz!" Nika said, drawing his rifle and locking his next lightstone into place...

...as he readied himself to jump.

OOC: @ARROW404 @Palm @Snelly

-Void

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IC: Aar

The Ussalman Exo-Matoran pilot only had time to get out a "Karz!" before the roof beneath his mech's feet gave out. The crabs behind him chittered in alarm as the same happened to them. Their quarry was wily, taking a way out none of them had anticipated. He tried to reach for the aim on his mech's Volo Lutu launchers, but his arm went wide as his mech's leg struck a half-collapsed wall on its way down and spun the whole machine around wildly. His harness kept him safe as he collapsed, face-down, in the rubble of the condemned building. For the second time in 5 minutes, he found himself digging his way out. Powerful as the Exo-Matoran was, it lacked the speed he desperately needed in that moment. He was out of this fight. There was nothing more he could do.

IC: Onepu

The Ussalry had arrived during that fight. Not all of it- no threat was worth leaving the Koro unprotected of course- but the high captain of the Koro's police force, along with a number of other crab-mounted Matoran and a Toa of Iron, had been drawn by the commotion. One of the Matoran on the ground filled him in on all they knew. Two Toa, powers unknown, fighting with a group of thugs who had been apprehended by now, but were currently unresponsive. Vigilantes, Onepu hazarded a guess. Or else other criminals, either a rival gang or disgruntled members of the same group. Whatever the case, they needed to be stopped, if nothing else than for questioning.

"Aim for the masks," he instructed those around him. Then the roof of the building caved in, a tremendous cloud of dust rising from the top, almost opaque in the lightstone light of the Koro. "Disks at the ready!" he commanded, whipping his own out.

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IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou)

Cure it? Heavens, why would y-” Montague was cut short by a recollection: their own goals of putting the dreams to rest. Why, they wondered, had they reacted like this? Their impulse, their gut reaction, was that the very notion of curing this dream-sickness was preposterous. They shook their head; it was likely nothing more than their own desire for scientific discovery - to cure the dreams before understanding their cause would be a terrible waste. When they spoke again, they sounded confused, dazed: “I- that is to say- pardon me, I haven’t been sleeping well of late. But then, I suppose you know that already...”

The whistling kettle brought Montague back to attention, as if snapping them out of a trance, and they returned to it, busying themselves with the filling of their teapot and the gathering of mugs. “Say, sir, how do you take your tea?”

OOC: @Perp

Edited by Goose

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IC: Oliphko (Papa-Nihu Reef)

"Ummmmmmm..." Oliphko mumbled and furrowed her brow in thought. "I suppose what I seek from meditation is... peace. Of the inner kind. You know, a feeling of calmness and unity with the world. And... the ability to immerse myself deep in thought so I can better understand the Virtues and their meaning. In the end, what I am trying to say is... it makes me happy, you know? My anxiety fades away and everything feels less unknown and terrifying."

She went quiet and smiled awkwardly. "That, uh, doesn't sound too weird, does it?"

OOC: @Geardirector

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IC: Onu-Koro, The Unfortunate Fikou

Puzzling, puzzling. The behaviour of this Matoran quite perplexed young Gorro - certainly, they were hospitable enough, though the Cy-Toa could not help but shiver at the momentary indignity that befell Montague upon his mention of an end to their ailments. What depraved delirium aside from that arising from the abhorrent nightmares afflicting both in present company could account for such a desire to continue falling deeper into madness? Thusly Gorro accepted both Montague’s explanation of dream-driven mania - as well as the offer of tea.

“With honey, if you please.”

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IC: Pae - Onu-Koro - ???

Pae's deep voice sounded over the noise of settling rubble, "Hold on," He crouched, and held out his fist, punching forwards. Beneath their feet, a three-inch platform as wide as the beam they stood on, appeared forwards, most of the way across to the lower building. The jump would be much easier now. The only question was whether or not they could evade the soon to be oncoming wave of disks from the Ussalry below.

He slid forward on the platform, putting both fists up, attempting to create a thin iron wall angled towards the forces on the ground. There wasn't time to make a shield any thicker than an 1/8th of an inch that would cover he and Nika completely, but it was the best that could be done, "The flying Toa!" Pae shouted to Nika. She would be the most likely to be their more immediate problem, while the others on the roof attempted to recover.

OOC: @Void Emissary @Snelly @ARROW404

Edited by Palm
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On 11/4/2021 at 10:21 PM, Razgriz said:

IC: Kellin, an expatriate who'd lived and plied his loudmouthed version of the mining trade in Onu-Koro before switching operations to the cold caverns of Ko-Wahi, wasn't hard for the Ussalry to identify after a quick perusal. He'd been a miner here first— and after a few seconds of carefully monitored shuffling, he'd produced an old hard hat that the senior of the two guardswas, much to his chagrin, quick to recognize.

He breathed in deep through his nose once they'd passed through unaccosted, accompanying it with an old nostalgic stretch of the back.

"Whew, there's that must air you can taste— nice to see nothin's changed here, at least. We riding out to the market with the plunder, or are y'all hijacking my crab for other errands?"

 

IC: My gills have never felt so good in donkey's years. I missed the dense underground air— Plus, Sami's still doing well at the guard post! Haven't seen him since we left, glad the Ussalry life treats him well.

IC:

"Leli and I need to get over to... Probably the Akiri, honestly." Their reception at the gate wasn't unwelcome but it was confused. As far as anyone had known Major Leli and Ussalmatoran Tarnok had been AWOL for over two months. More than strange considering the two of them but the facts had been there to see. No one much knew where either had gone. That debrief with Onepu was bound to be fun, but more important was telling Nuparu what they knew.

"I don't know what Leli wants to do with her loot, guess that bit's up to her. Sticking around a while, Kel?"

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On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Vrill [Onu-Koro, The Unfortunate Fikou]

Having completed his organization and finished his small meal, Vrill picked up his belongings and nonchalantly exited the inn.

It wasn't long before he arrived at the gate to the Po-Koro highway. At the nearby stables were many traders fitting carts to their ussals, loading and unloading cargo. The Cy-Toa approached one group who was beginning to leave, a pair of Po-Koronans on a large carriage pulled by two ussals.

"Hey!" he waved. They slowed down their ussals. One matoran, wearing a black akaku and sporting a long piece of straw between his lips, lifted his arm up and over the backrest behind them, casually putting his hand into a compartment there. The driver, a Po-Koronan with a brown arthron, addressed Vrill.

"Yes, toa?"

"I need a ride to Po-Koro. I'll protect you if you give me a seat."

The two matoran deliberated for a few moments. There was clearly a disagreement between the two partners.

"Look - I'm a Toa of Crystal," Vrill interrupted. He pointed to the large, covered cargo section of the carriage. "If I wanted the lightstones you were hauling, I'd make my own."

The two Po-Matoran looked at each other.

~~~

Vrill leaned back against the tarp-covered baskets of luminous ore from his perch atop a barrel at the back of the carriage. His body rested, but his mind was still very much at work.

OOC: Vrill to Po-Wahi

Edited by BULiK

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IC: Nika | ???

Without time to pack away his purloined disk launcher, Nika simply tossed the dime-a-dozen child's toy into the throng of crab-######s on the ground below, while at the same time pulling his lightstone rifle up over his shoulder and into firing position. It would be a rough shot, without time to calculate windspeed, distortion, or anything that he had picked up over his years of sniping. All that Nika could hope was that those years of experience would count for something. 

CRACK!

The lightstone, crackling with electricity, flew for the flying Toa. If he had done his math right, it should have hit her in the shoulder -- and, subsequently, explode into a blinding, though physically harmless, flash of light.

OOC: @Palm @Snelly @ARROW404

-Void

 

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IC: Oceanna Gallywix  - Onu-koro - ??? -

Chaos had erupted rather quickly. That roof had given out, and Oceanna and floated there in shock for a moment at what had happened. This wasn't her first fight of course, and she had already pulled out her Rahkshi staff in preparation for what was to come.

Getting shot at wasn't something she had anticipated, though she probably should have. The Vortixx's shot hit true, right into her shoulder. "KARZ MY EYES!" As the lightstone exploded the Onu-Toa was literally blinded, and bright lights were definitely one thing Onu-Toa hated. 

She let out a serious of slurs, including some things that weren't so flattering about Vortixx as she tried to restore her vision, using her free hand to try and rub her eyes as she remained in the sky.

OOC: @Palm @Void Emissary @ARROW404 

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IC: Onepu

The lightstone attack was far enough away that the ground troops were mostly able to flinch away and avoid the brunt of the blinding blast. "Aim!" the commander ordered, as soon as he had eyes on the two fleeing Toa again. "Throw!" With his order, the space between the two Toa suspended in the air and the ground below was filled by a volley of upward-sailing wood and metal disks.

IC: Aar

Onepu's command down below reminded him of one last bit of help he could offer. He glanced through his cockpit to check- yes, his disk launcher was free. He slipped it into place and aimed through the reticle. It was a hasty shot, not his best, but he hoped it would at least help, coming from the opposite direction of most of the threats the Toa were facing. With a muted whoosh, his shot sailed toward the fleeing suspects.

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On 11/17/2021 at 6:21 PM, Perp said:

IC: Gorro - Onu-Koro, The Unfortunate Fikou

 

On 11/14/2021 at 10:41 PM, Goose said:

IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou)

 

IC: Pukipuki (Onu-Koro)

When I get up in the morning, I feel heavy. It's cold in Ko-Koro. That makes it harder to get up in the morning. That, and in my dreams, I'm always swimming. Swimming feels so natural until I wake up. It's like breathing. You never stop breathing unless you try. I don't know why I would ever want to stop swimming.

"...Puki...?" Tupi's pale blue Ruru reminded me of swimming. "...Onu-Koro to Puki, you in there?"

"Hmm? Yes."

"I was telling you about my new Ussal. Were you listening?"

"Yeah, sure." My lips barely separated. They were visibly parched. "Long-In-The-Tooth, right?"

"No, his name is George, and he is a bit long in the tooth, that's what I was saying. Pay attention." She turned back to the tea. "Anyway, so I said to the salesman..."

Tupi carried on talking. I heard the tea pouring. It sounded like water, which reminded me of swimming. I looked into the teacup and I pictured myself plunging d̶͖̈́e̸̱͝ĕ̷͉p̸͚̓ into its dark depths, watching the spoon's entire gigantic form looming in the shadows as it passed by all the way down to the tea leaves at the bottom; then I pass b̶̡̝̱̝̯̳̖̟͌͊̆ͅȩ̷̡̢͍͓̤̱̯̜̫͍̩͂̓̽̈́̏̔̈́̓̆͒͊͗ͅl̸͙̫̖̞̝̫̪̖̉̈̓̍̄͆̓̆̂̈́̒̃̕͝ó̴̧̨̧͉̦͈̲̯͍̦͚̍̓͋̈́̊̈̆͒̓̓͊͂͘̚͜͜ͅw̶̧͕̥̯̗͐̈́̌͐̓̈́̐̉̈́̋͝͝ the tea leaves, and I'm surrounded by nothing; the nothingness speaks to me, tells me what it said to the Ussal salesman and how Long-In-The-Tooth has too many pink spots on his belly; then the nothingness' voice transforms into a language I can't understand, it stops just a sound being just sound a being just a sound

it

becomes

something

else.

...

"...Hey, Puki?"

My head snapped up. I hadn't realised it was drooping.

"You been sleeping okay, my guy?"

"Yeah, swimmi- swimmingly." Swimmingly?

"I don't think that's- never mind. You should have a nap. My bed's free." She sipped her tea. "Also, I have to go to work this evening, so I probably won't be here when you get up."

-    -    -    -    -

When I got up, I wasn't swimming. I wasn't in Tupi's bed, either. I was lying against the town sundial. It worked with artificial light yadaydayda, said Tupi in my memory.

Someone walked past and tutted. Someone else asked me if I knew Mata Nui loved me. I said yes to make him go away.

Hauling myself up, I gazed at the sundial. My eyes were still focusing, but I managed to decipher that it had been 4 hours. Tupi was at work. I had nowhere to go.

...

Another hour.

The bartender at The Unfortunate Fikou asked me how much I'd had to drink. I ordered some water and drank it, then I ordered some more, and drank that, then I ordered more water and drank it. Then, I asked the bartender if I could have a bucket of water and a room to sleep in. He stared at me for a long time, then gave me the bucket of water and sent me upstairs with the room key. He would have shown me to the room but hmfrmbmmf (this part was mumbled as he bent down to do something behind the bar).

I couldn't remember which room it was that I was meant to stay in. I stopped outside one of them and stood there for a long time, holding the water in my right hand and the outstretched key in my left.

Edited by Wotz
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IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou)

"Good, very good..." Again, Montague's voice began to drift, their attention ebbing and flowing like the tides as they handed over Gorro's cup of tea. But contrary to what the Cy-Toa had observed previously, this drifting was not trance-like - not at all. In fact, the more attention he paid, the more it seemed that Montague's eyes were neither glassy nor unfocused, but staring quite intensely... staring, it appeared, just over Gorro's shoulder. But whatever terrible sight they saw - and it must have been either awesome or terrible, by the way the De-Matoran's eyes had grown so very wide - that sight was either far from here or deep, d̴̡̖̼̈́͠͠e̸͚̽̑̍͜ê̵̮p̷̧̬̃ͅ within their own mind.

Then Montague blinked, and they were back - odd, though, that they had inhaled so deeply, gasping as if coming up for air from whatever dark vision had gripped them. Was I... was I holding my breath? How very queer...

Their lucidity restored, Montague sat themselves down upon the edge of the bed and - taking a sip of tea - produced a journal from the bedside table, before turning their gaze once more to Gorro.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind, I would rather like to record your firsthand experience of the, ah, the dreams. Your name, perhaps, would be the place to start."

OOC: @Perp

Edited by Goose

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IC: Gorro - Onu-Koro, The Unfortunate Fikou

Some minute comfort was afforded to the Cy-Toa as the warmth of the steaming mug coursed through his fingers, having leant forward to accept the beverage from his host. The herbal aromas filled his lungs as he drew in a breath, savouring the quaint, familiar comfort that brought some solace to his troubled life, however often he could afford it. 

The words “Thank you” formed upon his lips as that same breath made ready to be expelled, bringing the words with it - though that gratitude would never make it past the knot that seemed to twist itself in his larynx. It was only then, with a faint horror, that Gorro bore witness to the expression on the face of the Matoran opposite him - one of petrification, or abject terror, or some other sensation that gripped and overwhelmed one’s faculties. The intensity of Montague’s gaze bored not into Gorro, but some point behind him, where there should have been merely bare stone. 

Trembling once more, young, affrighted Gorro twisted his head ‘round so that his own eyes could trace the vector of Montague’s. Peering over his shoulder, and with mounting fear of what had so paralytically gripped his host, the young Cy-Toa laid his eyes upon- t̢҉͜h̵̨̡͠ę̀ ́͘s̡͞h҉͟o͡҉̸͟r҉̸e̴͝

Bare stone. The blank, scatteringly pockmarked wall of one of a few dozen identical rooms of the quaint Unfortunate Fikou, utterly inoffensive and serving only as a canvas for whatever mental daemons one could paint upon its surface. Gorro shuddered one final time as his coiled muscles relaxed, the tension in his body easing. What temporary madness had befallen his host? Though, it was not unlike some instances of his own pseudological fancies that caused him undue alarm every so often, he mused.

At once, feeling returned to his fingers as his mind was released from its stupor, and the burning of heated ceramic nearly caused him to drop the mug entirely. Quickly, he set the mug down on the table between the two of them, massaging his scalded hands and wincing at the pain coursing through now-singed nerves. Montague’s expression had relaxed and the Matoran composed themself, much to Gorro’s relief (of mood and not of pain, sadly). Hands continued to rub one another in a vain effort to mitigate sensation, so Gorro listened closely as Montague spoke in order to direct his focus elsewhere.

        "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I would rather like to record your firsthand experience of the, ah, the dreams. Your name, perhaps, would be the place to start."

The request of relaying the content of those accursed dreams gave Gorro pause - he figured as much, that this Montague would ask him about them upon reading the posted flyer, but nevertheless he would just as much prefer not to relive the escapades of those chaotic, dizzying nightmares. “My name is Gorro…” came his response after a moment, and yet another lapse of speech followed it as he collected his resolve and his memory.

“I believe the first of these dreams began perhaps a month ago, though I scarcely gave them any thought at that time. I chalked them up to being merely as a result of stress, and certainly I am no exception to experiencing the odd nightmare, as any person on Mata Nui would likewise be. Of course, the aspect of these dreams is the chilling commonality between them and the incessant repetition night after night… I do not remain sleeping for an appropriate amount of time due to their terrible and disturbing nature, and as a result am prone to fits of narcolepsy, even during the day, where they continue to assault my senses.”

He drew a deep, shuddering breath as he recalled the specific content of said dreams, which Montague seemed most keen on recording. The pain mostly subsided, Gorro retrieved the steaming mug and sipped at the tea, feeling the warmth and satiation spreading through his navel and gut. However, the same aftertaste he had the displeasure of experiencing a day earlier in Le-Koro persisted - that of salt remaining on his tongue…

“I admit I am not eager to share what morbid narratives in which these nightmares arrange themselves, though I suspect you understand why,” he continued, replacing the mug so as to not further damage his hands. “Often I find myself falling, or sinking… it is unclear. A deep, dark void of nothing surrounds me as I fall, and there is never any sense of direction, just a feeling of- of being crushed, squeezed from all directions… Sometimes I will see figures - abhorrent and beautiful at once, i-i-impossible to describe… Utterly surreal, as I am tossed about like a ragdoll between that damnable void and gaping, monstrous caverns of oppressive darkness, lit only by undulating waves of light that silhouette massive, cyclopean structures… I have vague impressions of what it is but… I cannot say for certain. A city? A tomb?”

A twinge of pain shot through his racing mind as the pace of his breathing quickened, as did his heart-beat. His thoughts wandered to the most common thread binding together every disparate nightmare. He gazed deeply into Montague’s eyes, in a strikingly familiar way, pleading understanding from the Matoran before him.

“In every dream, just before I wake… I… I a-a-awaken upon a shore. And I stare into the shallow water and see some twisted, unrecognizable visage. But d̷͟eę̴̡p̀ down, that face… I know it is mine...”

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IC: Pae - Onu-Koro - ???

A cacophony of wood and metal slammed into the thin iron wall Pae had conjured, making the entire platform shudder. Most of the metal disks stuck into the wall, partially protuding out the other side, and Pae had to inch himself towards the other side of the platform so they wouldn't knock into him. It would have been a sight to see, if they had even an ounce of time for it. But before Pae could collect himself, a lone stray disk, back from the building, stuck him hard in the back.

He spun forwards, and slid off the iron platform. Desperately, he grasped for the floor, and at the last moment, caught himself. There was no time to dangle, and as soon as he felt his body weight tug on his grip, he swung, and allowed his momentum to guide him back up again. He pulled himself onto the platform, back sore, but on the platform at the very least, "Jump, Nika."

OOC: @Snelly @ARROW404 @Void Emissary

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IC: Ferron (Papa-Nihu Reef)

The Turaga nodded sagely, perhaps getting a bit too in-character as he folded his hands and regarded Oliphko without answering for a few staid moments.

"No, not at all. I'm a little bit out of my depth on this as I said before. I've hit the books at the Wise Man's Archive a few times, but learning about this sort of thing is quite new territory for me"

"I think this spot suits us well in part because of the noise of the water outside. From what I've read so far, there are two different practices, meditation and mindfulness, that are often conflated."

Ferron held out his prosthetic hand, so his palm was illuminated by the lightstone between them. He placed his other finger in his palm, and held it there.

"You sound like you're describing both," he said, "achieving unity with the material word, to bring yourself into an awareness of the present moment, is mindfulness. Meditation on the other hand, is the rejection of your conscious awareness of what's around you and your presence in the material."

As he spoke, his finger was etching lines into his palm, the Turaga using his powers to effect his metallic hand. He first drew a rough sketch if the island, the material word for all intents and purposes, before dispelling it and drawing out the symbol of the three virtues.

"It depends on what you're after," Ferron said, "for someone like you, well... your element is literally all around us right now"

OOC: @Daniel the Finlander

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IC: Nika | ???

So Nika jumped.

It was a flailing, ugly, uninspiring maneuver -- but not entirely graceless. After all, only a few months ago, Nika would never have taken such a risk, exposed himself to the disks of the Ussalry and the whims of gravity solely on the word of another mercenary, and a mask-bearing one at that. Even if it meant turning to face his attackers, eye to the scope of an empty rifle, he would have taken those odds over those of an ally being honest with him. But whatever had changed over those past months -- changes that Nika had only suspected, but now knew to be confirmed -- had been, they were sticking to him.

So no, Nika's leap was entirely graceless. It was leap of faith, after all.

He hit the hard stone of the opposite roof on his left knee, and though he tried to roll the impact of the landing off, he could only barely bring himself back up to a kneeling position once he was there. He turned his head, looking back at Pae -- and at the mechanical fascist behind him, probably already planning another attack. Pae had already taken one hit by him, and with so much of his focus necessarily being dedicated to the waves of crabs below him, Nika would need to be the one to watch his back. But, without time to load another round into his lightstone rifle, what was a Vortixx to--

His fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the Stralix disk at his hip. Oh.

Nika pulled himself around so that he could kneel facing his friend and his foes. He had never been much of an athlete, preferring to leverage cold technology against his marks over muscle. But he had already tossed aside his disk launcher to get a clean shot at the Toa. He was out of options. So, gripping the disk tight, he pulled hard and hurled the disk at the Matoran in the mech-suit. With any luck, the explosion would only be enough to stun the pilot, maybe even disable the suit -- Nika still wasn't looking to kill anybody.

But again: not yet, anyway.

OOC: @Palm @Snelly @ARROW404 Just to be clear, this is Aar that Nika is aiming at.

-Void

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IC: Oceanna Gallywix  - Onu-koro - ??? -

Her eyes watered as she struggled to see again, slowly but surely her vision was coming back. She forced herself to look towards where the fugitives were, judging by the amount of noise they were making. Yes, there they were. Her grip on her Rahkshi staff tighten a bit.

Eying the Vortixx, Oceanna flew down towards him at high speed, betting on the fact that he would neither heard nor see her coming from above, as they had seemed to forgotten her the moment they had blinded her. As she closed the distance she grabbed her staff with both hands and swung it at his head, intending to knock him down.

OOC: @Palm @Void Emissary @ARROW404 

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10 hours ago, Void Emissary said:

Just to be clear, this is Aar that Nika is aiming at.

IC: Aar - Up high

The Vortixx had to be desperate to throw a disk at a-

B O O M .

8 hours ago, Snelly said:

As she closed the distance she grabbed her staff with both hands and swung it at his head, intending to knock him down.

IC: Onepu - Down low

"I don't recognize that Toa," Onepu said, squinting up at Oceanna, locked in struggle. "But they're outnumbered and trying to apprehend them. Let's provide support." He nodded to the Toa of Gravity standing nearby, who nodded back and leaped into a zero-gravity flight toward the struggle. "Second volley!" he continued, holding his hand out. A row of crab-mounted Matoran prepped their disks. "First advance!" Those who had thrown their disks spurred their crabs forward, and the armored mounts and their riders charged for the building the fleeing unknowns stood on top of. "Ready," he commanded those who stood back again, "Hold!" One presumed civilian, and their own UssalToa were in the way. The couldn't afford to fire yet, but they could be ready.

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IC: Savis – The Unfortunate Fikou

Once upon a time, Savis had been characterised by confidence. They’d been a buoyant, brash being, boisterous and brazen to a point that bordered belligerence.

At least, that was the way they remembered it, in the memories that had slowly been unfolding to fill the fuzzy parts of their mind. But it was hard for Savis to look at those memories and see themself in them. That Savis was someone else, somewhere else… something else. The Savis of today was all but devoid of that confidence. The space it had once occupied, a lifetime ago, was now cloyed and cluttered with uncertainty and questions. But today, perhaps, they could find some answers.

A soft sound echoed in Savis’ ears as they made their way into the inn, a sound that had accompanied them from their old life into the next, never changing or abating. Tinnitus was the medical term for it, according to the healer they’d once consulted, a symptom of damage to the auditory system, or an indicator of noise-induced hearing loss.

For some, it was said to sound like ringing, or buzzing, or whistling.

To Savis, it was more akin to the dim, distant crashing of ocean waves.

Most days, it was so quiet that it was imperceptible over the bustle of daily life in Onu-Koro. But in the dead of night, in the quiet dark, it reverberated through the recesses of their tired mind, filling their every fleeting thought. It felt that way now, as they made their way through the inn and approached the room the notice had indicated.

With each step, the wailing waves grew louder, roaring, raging, to the point that Savis could almost feel the waves battering their body, see the sloshing sea in their mind’s eye.

They saw the door they sought.

They stepped towards it.

They raised their hand.

And the sound suddenly sunk once more, the rapping of Savis’ knuckles upon the door echoing loudly in the ensuing silence.

@Goose @Perp

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IC: Pukipuki (The Unfortunate Fikou, Onu-Koro)

This was also a dream. In the dream, I was there, but I wasn't me. I could see myself from a darkened passage, and I was tall like a Toa with a great axe, rapping on the door of my destiny.

How long had I been standing here? It was impossible to tell the time of day in Onu-Koro without knowing it. I found myself yearning for the d̶͖̈́e̸̱͝ĕ̷͉p̸͚̓ crisp air of my home b̶̡̝̱̝̯̳̖̟͌͊̆ͅȩ̷̡̢͍͓̤̱̯̜̫͍̩͂̓̽̈́̏̔̈́̓̆͒͊͗ͅl̸͙̫̖̞̝̫̪̖̉̈̓̍̄͆̓̆̂̈́̒̃̕͝ó̴̧̨̧͉̦͈̲̯͍̦͚̍̓͋̈́̊̈̆͒̓̓͊͂͘̚͜͜ͅw̶̧͕̥̯̗͐̈́̌͐̓̈́̐̉̈́̋͝͝ in the mountains.

I wanted to say something to the stranger, it seemed only right, but my mouth was so dry I could barely open it, and my tongue stuck to the back of my throat when I tried to flex it. The w̵̷̧a̴͞t͏̷͝e̵̛͝r. Need to Drink More.

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  • 2 weeks later...

IC: Lacertus - Onu-Wahi

Just walk down the mountain, find a mechanic, and get your arm fixed. How hard could it be?

Lacertus rolled over and carefully placed a screw onto the cloak he had spread on the ground. That was the fifth one, and if he remembered correctly—not a gamble he usually felt comfortable with—there should only be one more. Even if he couldn't find it, though, it's not as if a screw was going to be utterly irreplaceable. He'd already planned on getting some spare parts, what was one more screw on top of that?

He looked at the socket where his right leg was supposed to be. The very, frustratingly, conspicuously empty socket.

Whatever. It's just one screw.

He reached down and rolled his cloak up, the various of pieces of his arm and leg jangling pleasantly as he tied it into a makeshift bindle—perfect for day trips up and down a mountain or when getting lost for who even knows how long in some minor tunnel system off the main highway because your utterly useless excuse for a leg picked the exact moment there was a small crevice nearby to give out and sending you tumbling down it and into a tunnel that almost feels like it was carved out just to be spiteful to anyone foolish enough to wander into it but here you are stuck scrambling in the dark with nothing but your own seething thoughts for company until you're finally forced to give up and claw your way back up to the highway in defeat.

The bindle was perfect for situations exactly like that.

Lacertus leaned against his spear and looked up at the distant glimmer of light that marked his way out of this hole. It was going to be a one-armed, one-legged climb. He'd been in worse, but...not by much. As he vowed to never again get repairs done at the cheapest mechanic he could find, Lacertus began his ascent.

 

 


 

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IC: Oliphko (Papa-Nihu Reef)

Oliphko listened quietly until Ferron stopped speaking. "Um, yeah, true, but there's also a lot of water. And the noise too, as you said. I don't know about you, but I don't think water suits me that well. At least, not the enormous amount of it outside."

"Also... it's interesting to hear what others have written about meditation. Personally, I never read about it... I moreso figured it out myself over the years. Maybe I've been doing it wrong all this time, hehe..."

She chuckled, albeit she sounded a little nervous.

"Anyways, when should we, uh, begin meditating? I haven't done this with someone else before so, whenever you're ready I guess?"

OOC: @Geardirector

Edited by Daniel the Finlander

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IC: Lacertus - Onu-Wahi

The Onu-Matoran stared at the back of the retreating Ussalry member, racking his brain for any parts he may have ordered recently, or a friend from another Koro who might have sent him something. And then there was the second package that had been left at his door—given its length, he was fairly confident it was a spear and some other, shorter weapons. Weapons he obviously had no use for, nor interest in. Still, as his teacher had once (and only once) said metal is metal is metal is metal. His teacher then, of course, immediately passed out from the exhaustion of the ten straight all-nighters he had pulled preparing for a demonstration of a new pulley system and woken up with neither memory of the event of a new commission for the Koro to show for it. Of course.

But the quote had stuck in his mind nonetheless, and he found himself toying with it once again as he picked up the spear and heaved the bag of what sounded like spare parts onto his shoulder. With the practiced steps of someone accustomed to carrying cumbersome pieces of machinery, he entered his workshop, set the spear near the door, and emptied the bag of parts onto his

A tangled mess of metals and flesh spilled out, settling into a pile with a very distinctly torso-and-head-shaped mass atop it.

"Hello."

The Onu-Matatoran hopped back. "Wh-what? How? Why?!"

The Matoran stared at the scene before him, mind racing as it tried to determine which question to ask first. After an agonizingly confusing moment, he finally settled on one.

"Why were you in a bag?"

Lacertus blinked a few times. "That's... Yeah, that's a fair question. I guess the short story is that I got a lift here after I slipped and fell and broke all of my limbs off. Well, three of them. Good ol' left arm over there," he said, pointing with his chin at the large pile of parts lying on the table, "fell off not long after I left Ko-Koro. You ever tried to climb down Mt. Ihu with only one arm?"

As the Matoran hesitantly shook his head—clearly uncertain if the question had been rhetorical, but not willing to take any chances with this strange person who had still not explained why being in the bag had been necessary—Lacertus lost his balance and fell forward, face-first onto the floor.

"Don't."

After a few moments, Lacertus managed to roll himself into a slightly more upright position, at which point he cleared his throat, eyes sheepish.

"Anyway I need repairs, and I've been told this is the place to get them. Think you can help? I'd be happy to pay you for the trouble, if you can, uh...get me back in one piece."

The Onu-Matoran looked at Lacertus, eyes lingering on the torn pieces of metal sticking out from each point where a limb should be, then at the pile of parts that were either missing their paired components or in desperate need of repair. It was a daunting task, potentially far beyond the scope of anything he'd ever tackled before, but as he considered everything he would need to complete it—custom parts would likely be necessary, so he'd have to get those made, either through someone else or simply doing it himself—he felt a sense of excitement stirring deep within him.

So what if he'd never taken on a project this difficult before? This was a chance to step out of his comfort zone and bring his craft to the next level. Besides, what was he going to do if he turned this down? Go and work on a self-locking door? Boring, boring boring.

No. Now that he'd been given this chance, he had to take it. After all, no matter what its purpose, he had no doubts in his ability to understand the inner workings of a mechanism, assemble it, and then rebuild it better than before. Years at the Academy had left him with that much, and his tutelage under his teacher had left him with the experienced needed to decide upon a course of action and see it through to the end—no matter how long it might take. As the words of his teacher echoed once more in his mind, he nodded at Lacertus.

Metal is metal is metal is metal.

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IC: Nika | ???

Nika may, indeed, have lost track of the flying Toa after his initial attack -- a mistake that he would regret if he made it out of this mess alive. But he had spent most of his life on his own in dangerous territory, and so he had figured out how to keep his wits about him no matter what. He could, for instance, note the subtle pull of a flyer's slipstream as she passed over him, and the shadow of a figure blocking the lights of the surrounding buildings -- or the harsh whistle of a weapon coming down for his head.

Nika whirled, bringing his rifle up to block the incoming weapon -- a Rahkstaff, as Spirit be his witness -- with enough force to block it from cracking his skull open, but not enough to keep the sheer weight of the strike from driving him onto his back. With few options, and even fewer aces up his sleeve, all he could do was swing one of his legs up in a kick at his flying opponent.

OOC: @Snelly

-Void

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IC: Oceanna Gallywix  - Onu-koro - ??? -

Nika's kick landed, which caused Oceanna to lose control over her flight and crash into the ground near the Vortixx. The Toa of Earth got up quickly however, adrenalin keeping her going for the moment. She stretched out her hand as a large chuck on earth formed in front of her and was launched at the Vortixx. 

"Eat dirt!" She needed to work on her quips. 

OOC: @Void Emissary @ARROW404 @Palm

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IC: Nika | ???

Had the Toa said something? Nika hadn't caught it, occupied as he was with staying alive.

The brief moment that the Toa spent tumbling to the roof where used by Nika to push himself back onto his feet. This wasn't the sort of fight that he was primed for, wasn't the kind of job he had trained himself to do -- and so, without time to load another lightstone into his rifle, he simply grabbed one of the daggers from his belt and hurled it at the Toa. In another life, he might have taken off running at the same time.

Unfortunately, Pae was still there.

Karz!

OOC: @Snelly

-Void

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IC: Gravity Ussaltoa

As Onepu held the ranged attack below, the Toa of Gravity floated toward the fleeing suspects. "Put down your weapons and surrender!" he commanded. With a wave of his hand, he absorbed the gravity in the area of the fighting, each combatant losing their ever-present anchor to the ground. The Onu-Toa could fly, so she would be unperturbed by it. That put the advantage solidly in the Ussalry's court. His eyes narrowed through the eye slots of his Iden. "Your crimes stand at assault and fleeing the authorities. If you surrender, you will be treated fairly, and your sentence will most likely be light!"

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IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou)

Soon again, they heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

Montague's attention left their notes, eyes focused now upon the door. "Come in, I say! The door is open, good fellow - or good madam, if indeed either you prefer."

They stood as they spoke, their journal left unattended, its pages splayed upon the bed. Were Gorro to look closely at them while Montague's back was to him, the first curiosity of note might be the De-Matoran's truly abhorrent handwriting.

The second, of course, would be what they had scrawled upon the page in place of Gorro's testimony, line after cursed line until the words scarcely seemed to mean anything at all, if not for the fact that they meant far too much to Gorro. And yet, Montague gave away nothing, as genial and eccentric as before, now turning the handle to reveal their latest visitor.

The utter exhaustion of the Lesterin in the doorway was quite immediately apparent, and Montague knew in an instant that they, too, had come here to fulfil the advertisement. "Come in, come in - we're having tea, would you care to join us?"

OOC: @Perp @Nato The Whisperer

Edited by Goose
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IC: SavisThe Unfortunate Fikou

Savis hadn’t been sure what they’d expected to find waiting for them beyond the door – certainly the notice had given the impression of someone more curious than concerned about the dreams – but the Matoran’s chipper disposition still came as a surprise.

“I… I’m not really a tea person…” they replied, taken off-guard by such a mundane start to what would surely be a far more complex conversation. “But I would be grateful to join you.” They glanced past the Matoran, to the Toa already seated in the room, before turning their attention back to the Matoran. “You are the one who left the notice, yes?"

@Goose @Perp

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IC: Gorro - Onu-Koro, The Unfortunate Fikou

Abruptly Gorro was ripped from his ruminations through the appearance of yet another bearer of bad dreams at Montague’s door, just as he himself had been mere minutes before. His exuberant half-sized host leapt to their feet at the noise, leaving the Cy-Toa to dwell on the morbidities he had dredged up from his subconscious and woven clumsily into words. Presently, he felt dizzy, off-balance, as if knocked about by the crashing of a sudden coastal wave upon his knees; the sensation made him shiver, and wetness crept down the nape of his neck to soak itself into his cloak, which he had neglected to remove. It was his hope that the folds of fabric would hide the trembling limbs underneath.

The exchange of words between host and guest echoed in his conscious mind from elsewhere in the room, quite far from where his focus currently presided. Gorro’s gaze drifted over to the spot where Montague had affixed themself moments earlier, upon the edge of a quaint, out-of-fashion bedspread. In place of the Matoran, now absent, was the medium upon which their thoughts and those of others were writ - a small book, pages scrawled with what was assumedly the gospel of Gorro, his nightmares transcribed for later recall; for what purpose, the young Toa could not presently know. Just so, he leant forward, squinting his eyes ever so slightly to make out what words were indeed recorded, for the book had been left open and vulnerable to the curious, of which he was party to. As the scrawlings became readable (or at the very least, legible) to him, a sudden sharp stabbing of agony accosted his senses directly behind his eyes, forcing them shut and ending the sensation within a moment. A shuddering breath vacated from his lips as Gorro once again composed himself.

Some things were not for his eyes to see.

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OOC: Moving from Po-Wahi 
 
IC: Ra'lhen – Onu-Wahi tunnel, Ussal Taxi 
 
Lights flew by the Toa of Lightning as the pair of Ussal crabs sped through the wide, busy tunnel. Beside them, other taxis, carts and foot-travelers made their way towards and away from the underground city. As they rode Ra’lhen found himself glancing repeatedly at the iconic halberd that Stannis had on him, seemingly cleaved in two. Perhaps the linen-covered massive sword was a replacement?  

 

But one cannot change primary weapons so easilyRa’lhen thought.  

 

Ages ago, before Ra’lhen had fallen to the Makuta’s influence, he was a tried-and-true swordman who took up kickboxing as a hobby. That was the only reason why it was possible for cleansed Toa to make a drastic switch himself. He wanted to ask Stannis directly, but it was difficult get a word over the relentless clatter of the Ussal’s feet, now echoed by the walls of the tunnel.  
 
While Ra’lhen worked to keep that curiosity front and center, the Toa couldn’t help but notice the many side tunnels and crevices that sprang from their route. In one of these tunnels, a deeply nested cave once held a near-paralyzed Wokapu Kodin. The Other Guy had broken his back, but fortunately his spine was intact enough to be mended by a good-natured healer named Cael. This was assuming Wokapu’s reiteration of the story was correct, of course.  
 
As the two Toa passed through various shadowy stages along their journey, Ra’lhen repeatedly was reminded of the many other atrocities set upon Onu-Koro by the Infected Toa. Onu-Koro, for whatever reason, did not suffer Ronkshou’s wrath as severely as say, Po-Koro, Ta-Koro, and Ga-Koro. But at least in most of those cases, the bodies of loved ones were recovered and memorialized.  

 

When someone disappeared in Onu-Wahi, they were often gone for good.  

 

Just then, bright lines severed Ra’lhen’s scrambled thoughts. It literally looked like a singular bright light at the end of a dark tunnel. The Toa of Lightning sat calmly at the Ussal taxis reached their terminus at the mouth of the tunnel.  

OOC: @Umbraline Yumiwa

Edited by Emzee
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IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou)

“Indeed I am! The name is Montague, as I believe I indicated upon the notice, and my guest here is Gorro.” Montague was either oblivious to or nonplussed by Gorro’s state of unease, returning as they did to their space upon the bed and to their journal without reaction. “Please, take a seat, make yourself comfortable. Gorro here had just been elaborating upon his own experience of the dreams. Would you, perhaps, care to do so as well?”

OOC: @Nato The Whisperer @Perp

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IC: Savis - The Unfortunate Fikou

"I- yes,. That's why I'm here," they nodded firmly, trying to inject some confidence into their words. They settled into one of the empty chairs, unslinging their axe from their back and leaning it against the side of the chair. "I admit I'm not really sure where to begin. Many of my memories were lost to me when I first washed up on this island, something I understand to be common among new arrivals on these shores. Like the rest of my kind, I've only recently begun to recall what was forgotten." 

Their gaze drifted down towards their left hand, its fingers gripping the arm of the chair far more firmly than necessary. It was the hand of a sailor, creased with callouses, speckled with scars from splintered wood and ropeburn. "I know I was in a shipwreck. That's how I ended up here. Even when everything else was forgotten, I remembered the wreck. Relived it every night. I don't know when, but somewhere, somehow..." they forced themself to raise their eyes and meet those of Montague, "...those nightmares became Dreams." 

@Goose @Perp

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OOC: Moving from Ko-Wahi

IC: Tailua — Onu-Koro, Highway entrance

The Ta-Toa paid the Ussalman and departed from the massive crab. Despite the bustling action and bright lines giving the underground city a sense of vibrancy, there was always a solemn sentiment whenever he visited. 

Above the industrial advancements and eternal night-life aesthetic, Tailua was always reminded that the sole deceased member of his Toa team rested here. Far from the city center were the memorial grounds holding the headstones and plaques commemorating fallen miners, prospectors, and warriors. Among them was the plaque for Olaki Kodin, the Toa of Earth, and Dark Toa Ronkshou’s very first kill. 

The pang of betrayal hit Tailua’s chest at that moment and he inhaled sharply through his teeth. That miserable  ####### of a leader ruined so much of Tailua’s life, and he reflexively glanced down at the gray metal cap which was where his right hand once was. 

There was an attachment hook at the end of the cap which made it useful for attaching various weapons and tools. On his person was a rusty hook, a shortsword, and a hollow metal cylinder used to channel his fire element. The latter was actually what Tailua hoped to upgrade. If he could have a Patero launcher to attach, he would feel like a new Toa. And he was positive now that he would have the coin to pay for it after the Vidar trade. 

Tailua knew he’d have to pay his respects to his fallen brother in arms. But first, he was going to take in the busy scenery around him. He began walking south towards the burial grounds, eyes peeled for interesting sights. 

OOC: Open for interaction

Edited by Emzee
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IC: Pae - Onu-Koro - ???

Pae looked across the gap towards Nika as the pair began to rise. He nearly let out a short growl of indignation, but of course remained silent. He let go of his two proto-steel hammers, letting them hover at his side, which he then tapped  away with his foot. Once they left the anti-gravity field, they dropped onto the iron platform with two loud 'thunk'ing noises. He crossed his arms and remained completely still.

"I surrender."

OOC: @Void Emissary @Snelly @ARROW404

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IC:

Stepping into Ussalry HQ was no different than it had ever been. But that wasn't how it felt.

Tarnok couldn't remember the last time so many faces had looked at him in surprise. He had been here, doing his duty, for... A very long time. Longer than many of the faces he saw. In that respect he had become a part of the background, a fixture largely unnoticed until it was absent. And he had been absent for a long, long time. Long enough for everyone to recognize something strange had happened, wonder at what, but not quite long enough for anyone to feel the need to stop their little group. Even if Leli was drawing even more odd stares.

"Major Leli, Ussalmatoran Tarnok, and a guest," The Matoran said coming to a halt in front of the Akiri's secretary. "To speak with the Akiri. Urgently."

@Geardirector

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On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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