Torra [17]

>Set the mask on my face. Channel its power, fixing my broken parts.

The Kiril clicks on and your nerves weave in. You can see clearly and the stabbing pain in your skull instantly halts - for a brief moment, the accessible protodermis on your body flickers in a mesh of color, stark red and glowing where you ruined your leg earlier. Turning your attention to the breakage through through the frame of the mask's power, you dig your fingers underneath the armor on your thigh to untangle the muscle and align the vestigial bone, before tugging on the ragged edge of the protodermic plate. You see liquefaction. The matter nearby partially melts and runs rapidly into the wound, sealing it shut, before you smear sand onto the exterior that burns up into a protective crust. It will be some time before your body locally reinforces the plate again, but the repair is essentially complete.

>Search for my sword and shield.

With your mask affixed and your eyes adjusted to the night, you quickly track down your shield - floating softly in a smaller tidepool, already starting to contaminate it with clots and swirls of algae - and bolt it to a holding socket on your back. Your sword, miraculously, is still in its buoyant case, which made its way smoothly to the shore after bobbing up from the wreck of the canister. You crack it open, extract the blade and test its heft, then run a finger along the perpetually slick metal. No defects. The case joins the shield, attached on your frame.

TOA


Celus [1]

>Find my mask. Get my mask.

You just can't get a handle on your mask. Without it, you can barely see, and you are half-delirious with the effects of the gas in the canister - an anoxic trance, black spots flickering in and out of your vision. You stumble back to the vessel and lean against it for support.

>If it's not too much strain, freeze the water around my canister, before the tides can take it.

You sink your hands into the water pool around your canister and start trying to snap-freeze everything in the shallow depression, locking your canister into place against the encroaching sea. Enfeebled, you push yourself to chill the water but encounter resistance - the body of the ship itself is sinking large quantities of heat into the surroundings, as part of the inner structure smolders away. As long as it's not quenched, you can establish no lower thermal equilibrium. The canister creaks and groans, slumping a few degrees down in the damp sand. Thin streaks of smoke start to curl out of the porthole that you burst out of.

Now that you try to reconstruct events - your Garai must be in there. But you'll need to vent the poison and stamp out any inner fire to access it. How?

TOA


Hyrri [8]

>Find my mask.

You rise to your feet and begin the hunt, breathing sharply through your exposed face. By now, dozens on dozens of debris objects have started to line the shore, trash from the massive wreck. There - you can't believe your luck. Underneath a molten bloom of glass, the unmistakeable outline of your Sanok. With a flip of your hand you violently shock the sand, blowing the glass back in a spray of cooling droplets, then quickly reach down for the hot artifact.

The protodermis shines dully in the firelight. You raise it to your face and lock it in, intertwining the nerves. With a delayed impact, your perception explodes and you fall for a moment to your knees, totally disoriented. Details swell to the point of uselessness - every grain of sand, distinguishable even in the faint illumination. The mask is responding to your mind, and your mind is responding back. Locked in a feedback spiral, they descend together, scanning parameter space for a stable mode. Your visual field morphs and bubbles, the focal point zooming back and forth...

Finally, some calm. Your sight is clear and true... particularly in the middle field, the foveated area, where the eye reflexively snaps to outlines of moving objects, jagged shells of scuttling coastal Rahi. Hypothetical curves of target-piercing light map from your hands to their hearts.

TOA


Oumu [1]

>Do whatever it takes to get my mask back.

You get to your feet and approach the wreck, then look dismally into the rising fire of your canister. It's... not encouraging. Some of the higher fuels are going up, now, with muffled explosions that buckle the walls of the lower compartments half-sunk into the sand. The color is starting to fade from blue-white at the core to redder tones, at least. If you were to punch a hole through the hull - possible, given your heat resistance - the impact might set off everything in there at once. That would guarantee obliterating anything of value remaining. A more elemental solution might be appropriate, but fully sinking and transferring the thermal energy of the bulk is a requirement above your current power. You're weak, possibly internally wounded, still coughing up water. The sand looks awfully comfortable. You have to suppress the urge to sleep forever.

TOA


Koa'a [-]

>Move towards the beacon of light.

Ignoring the obsessive urge to reclaim your mask, you steel yourself, grip your spear and start walking up the beach to the tall flames licking from another dead canister. There is another standing there, swaying drunkenly. He wears dull red armor that glows softly with its own inner fire. A Toa? What is he looking for?

Your mouth twitches as your vision washes over for a second with a black wave. Without the mask, your spirit is loosely connected to its body. It burns horribly, an acid void in your head like the pangs of starvation, but you hold on by will alone.

TOA


Avvlaa [7]

>Find my mask and weapons.

Your canister is relatively intact, if half-flooded. Blood drips steadily from the umbilicals you ripped out of your neck and turns black in the water. A sad waste. Gingerly, you feel the exit ports, which are already scabbing over. The water crackles a bit, from the action of buried wires - it seems some of the ship's power must have re-established itself after landfall.

You contort yourself to crawl back into the canister, taking immense care not to set foot in the water or on exposed metal. Out of the corner of your eye, you detect exactly what you were looking for - buried in a shining case a foot below the water's surface. This will be painful.

Reaching your hand in, it starts to spasm almost instantly. You suppress a scream of anger and go deeper, fingers closing around the metal handle. Burning and twitching, you heave the cargo up like your life depends on it, breaking it free from its bolts to the sunken wall.

A minute of agony later, you sit cross-legged in the wreck with the container cracked open and your artifacts at your feet. The mask, your familiar Matatu, you attach to your face quickly. As the nerves coil in, you feel the fifth limb take root in your head. An invisible arm of telekinetic force, stretching impossibly far from your body, tapping your surroundings like a sensor. Unthinking, it lifts out one of the axes and gently drops it into your left hand. With your other hand, you complete the pair. They are well-balanced and sharp - only deceptively crude, more lethal than their stone composition might suggest.

TOA

Look for others, and try covering my arm in a gauntlet of stone.

Torra [16]

>Find the most intense fire and put it out with water. After, move to the next highest intensity fire to put out, if I can.

You make your way purposefully toward the higher fire, currently in the process of consuming a whole canister a distance up the beach. Two figures are speaking in the light when you arrive - you make out scraps as you are coming in.

"Are you fine?"
"No... my mask, my mask is in the flames. They're too strong to disperse."
"Mine is gone too. We need to recover."

So they are in more or less the same situation. In that case, you're ready to deliver immediate aid. The pulling in your gut indicates the approach of a major wave, a real swell twice your height. You double back toward the water, certain that this is a force you can readily tap, and dive headfirst back into the black ocean.

Down in the water. A luminescent Rahi floater investigates your face. When it passes over you, you kick furiously for the surface and summon reserves of elemental power, bursting from the surface and towards the sky. You took part of the wave with you, riding its skin - the absolute controller of this salt water, piloting a focused mass of it towards the shore. Now you're on the shore, coasting on borrowed momentum overland, losing water into the dry sand...

You approach quickly and without warning, bending your body to whip the fluid around your center of mass, rolling in the heart of the wave and then sending that torrent crashing over your head - right into the fire! Prepared for the blowback, you hit the ground in a soft sheath of protective water and keep running for your other target.

By the time you arrive at the other smoking canister, however, it seems like its former passenger has finished your job for you. He's covered in gleaming white armor - much taller than you, but of basically the same body plan. A Toa?

TOA


Celus [19]

>Slam fist against the canister.

You're really incensed. This isn't the way a Toa should die - drained and sick. You beat the canister with a massive hand, leaving a dent.

"Rrr."

>Fine. First is the fire. I can't handle the fire. I can hold my breath, maybe. I can't hold the heat without my mask.
>Start splashing water into the capsule. Not sure if it will be enough to extinguish fuel fires, but it's all I have right now.

You can do better, actually. You summon the last dregs of your elemental energy - cold running through the marrow of your iron bones - as you wrench a bowl of curved scrap from the sand and begin hurling buckets of water into the belly of the vessel. In the air, the delayed charges of ice in them ripen and nucleate - shards of ice in a blend of supercooled water rain down into the canister as you work manically to put things right. Whatever fire was in there must have been quenched by now. The smoke, already dissipating without its source, is further washed out of the air.

All you need to do is blow a hole in the hull and stand well upwind...

One sharp strike to the edge of a hatch and you rip it free, then throw it like a discus into the sand. You hold your breath and tear the opening wider, to the point where you have to apply a hard shoulder to the canister body to prevent it from collapsing down into the sand.

You get to the unventilated side of the canister. Now to wait a few moments... surely your cargo will be in hand soon.

Who's this blue woman coming closer? She carries a mask, a sword - Toa kin?

TOA


Hyrri [10]

>Find my weapon, and anything else of use from the spread out contents of the supply hold.

You follow the trail of bobbing debris back into the sea until you are shoulder deep into the water, your eye on one of the larger deposits that seem to have been snagged on the rim of coral and stone defining the bay.

Yes - that's exactly it, the case you need, almost calling out to you in the midst of trash and rubble. With two heavy blows you shatter it free from the coral and wade inland. Kneeling on the sand, you run your hands over the metal - the lock remembers you and frees its innards.

A green recurve bow of ironwood, impossibly light in your grip. The string flexes and resonates at your touch, establishing a standing wave that hums gently. And, along with it, a quiver of a few dozen long broad-headed arrows. Perfect for slicing through distant targets.

With your mask and your weapon, you're well prepared for anything the future could throw at you.

TOA


Oumu [-]

>It looks like I'm going to need help. Look around for any Toa who've finished recovering their equipment and ask for their immediate assistance.

You turn toward the dark ocean and look for others. A black shape, huge and indistinct in the darkness, approaches. Its eyes glow uncovered by any mask.

"Are you fine?"
"No... my mask, my mask is in the flames. They're too strong to disperse."
"Mine is gone too. We need to recover."

The two of you stare into the fire uneasily for some time. It roils and flickers - drops of molten metal curl down from thin edges of crumpled hull plating, sliding down into the buried zones of the ship.

Another joins you, almost too fast to react to - bright blue and sharp, moving with supernatural agility in a violent swirl of heavy seawater that smashes down, guided by her hands to totally flood the interior. A sharp explosion, a ton of steam boiling over, the plume of white engulfing -

In a few seconds you come to. Everyone is lying on the ground, slightly stunned with superficial burns. Except the water-wielder, who has somersaulted through the blast wave and already ramped up into a full sprint further down the beach, toward another marooned canister...

You stagger to your feet and help drag the dark one up from the ground, then weave unsteadily toward the cooling wreck of the canister. Everything hisses, but the heat is now perfectly manageable for someone of your talents. He follows up to the entry hatch, but declines to crawl inside. You crack it and step aside as a torrent of hot water gushes out into the sand.

Your mask is immediately visible in the ruined interior, but... shrouded in bubbled metal.

"Help me out here." You point toward the trapped artifact, and the black-armored figure nods before waving you aside.

He beats the ground once, twice, three times -

A dark clot of earth shoots up from some fracture in the lower hull, covering the mask and its shell. He peels back some of the hull, hands burning audibly, and reaches out to touch the mass, then starts to knead it. Some... geological process? A symphony of cracking begins as the shell of metal is compacted, stressed immensely, and released rhythmically.

When he wipes away the earth, the prison has been broken, and he passes the sacred mask to you.

Your Calix... will you put it on?

And who is that woman in tan armor, striding across the sand toward you with axes in her hands?

TOA


Koa'a [6]

>Ask the red Toa if he is okay. Work together to reclaim mask(s).

You move out of the darkness and into the firelight, then greet what you presume is another Toa.

"Are you fine?"
"No... my mask, my mask is in the flames. They're too strong to disperse."
"Mine is gone too. We need to recover."

You start making a move to address the fire destroying the canister, but stop dead... it's really not trivial. It roils and flickers - drops of molten metal curl down from thin edges of crumpled hull plating, sliding down into the buried zones of the ship.

Before you can react, someone else rushes into the scene - bright blue and sharp, moving with supernatural agility in a violent swirl of heavy seawater that smashes down, guided by her hands to totally flood the interior. A sharp explosion, a ton of steam boiling over, the plume of white engulfing -

Downed and a little stunned by the blast, you can barely lift your titanic bulk from the sand. The other Toa helps you to your feet, before inspecting his canister again. Your unexpected guest is a blue twinkle in the distance, far down the beach.

The two of you move toward the wreck again, walking almost drunkenly. He approaches closer. You follow up to the entry hatch, but you aren't willing to crawl inside and get burnt. He cracks it open and step aside as a torrent of hot water gushes out into the sand.

"Help me out here." Looks like your new friend has picked up on the sight of his mask, already pointing it out to you. You see that it's been encased in metal. Ah, you certainly know how to break that.

You slam the ground once, twice, three times -

A dark clot of earth shoots up from some fracture in the lower hull, covering the mask and its shell. You rip apart some of the hull, your hands burning and stinging on the hot metal with an unpleasant hiss, then reach out to touch the mass of fresh material. Now for the pressure - you start to knead it, your hands bulging with a vice grip, mimicking a familiar geological process. A symphony of cracking begins as the shell of metal is compacted, stressed immensely, and released rhythmically.

When you brush away the temporary shell of earth, the hold of the metal has been broken, and you pass the Toa his mask.

You're not alone, it looks like. A figure in tan armor, armed with two hatchets, is coming closer across the sand.

TOA


Avvlaa [6]

>Look for others, and try covering my arm in a gauntlet of stone.

It seems that most of the others were gathered around a canister that was burning brightly on the beach, up until a few moments ago - a fast-moving wall of water has totally quenched that and vanished in a blur down the beach. You're... not quite sure what happened, but you have to assume it was helpful. You take up your weapons and start approaching the wreck, where two forms are visible - one with black armor, one glowing a dull red.

Along the way, you let the living stone crawl in a fine stream out of your hand and try to flow it back over your arm. A thin, fine layer tries to deposit itself and begins hardening, but soon shatters immediately with the natural swing of your limb as you walk. The small fragments drop gently to the sand. It looks like you will need more time and effort to manifest something like this (any kind of temporary armor, really) and it will need to be carefully designed not to restrict your movements. Stone will not bend that way.

TOA