Torra [1]

The growing red light in the water shudders, then begins to rise uncertainly, attached to a dark, ragged shape.

"There's a red thing in the water-"

>Be prepared to move and rescue her if it's a Rahi that attacks.

The Matoran narrows her turbulent eyes as you begin to speak, perceiving an attempt to distract, until her gaze breaks and shoots to the side. With a sharp cry, she reflexively crouch-drops toward the other end of the canoe, both hands closing hard around her fishing spear. Before you or Oumu can dive into the water, the white one - Celus, you learned after the band gathered around the fire - acts. Firing fragments of ice into the deep, he scores multiple hits: as the water nucleates around the seed crystals with an explosive bang, the light breaches the surface as a groaning iceberg, almost knocking the Ga-Matoran into the waves. Dumbfounded, her lamp fallen at her feet, she presses against the side of the boat and thrusts out the spear as if to block any more sudden moves.

At the base of the glassy blue ice are visible strands... dragging wires? You scan up from the matted, seaweed-like coils, your gaze landing on a rictus grin in a swirling halo of dark red blood. A shattered mask, a noble Hau carved from crimson protodermis, lies cracked in half on a Matoran's face, nearly bisected. A wicked fragment of shrapnel lies embedded deep in the skull. One eye has fallen out, gone forever, the space behind it half-cobwebbed with a spray of reconstruction fibers. The other still flares with light, the glow rising and ebbing cyclically in the socket. He's cupping something in rigid hands that are held close against his chest. You get the unsettling feeling that he's looking at you from the other world.

The Ga-Matoran looks positively sick. Her voice quavers, but doesn't break. "Is he still in there? The light is on..." The other Toa draw closer in morbid interest as Celus sinks a handhold into the iceberg and starts to tug it closer to shore.

Hyrri interjects quietly as if to finish the earlier conversation. "...executed?" The Matoran overhears, drifting out of her shock for a moment to reply. "Before I was born, in this half of the world they hauled the elemental warriors to the iron courts of justice in the West. They bound them in manacles of protodermis and threw them into great pits in the earth, where they could fall directly into hell. You'll meet the same end if the Wahi lords find you out." Her focus returns to the Ta-Matoran imprisoned in ice. She puts a hand on the surface and stares into the mass.

Behind you, there is a gasp and a thump. Avvlaa?

TOA


Celus [19]

Observing as the red light in the water shudders and rises with a ragged shape in tow, you spring into action with surprising quickness, cutting off Torra in midsentence. "There's a red thing in the water-" Oumu has started to move to assist, but is not quite quick enough.

>Freeze it.

You drop to a knee in the salt water, thrust your arm below the surface and level your hand toward the light, the plates of the palm peeling back to expose raw holes that bleed off curls of freezing water. You wipe your mind blank and draw out elemental power: a series of hissing blasts fling water-jacketed slugs of unstable ice down into the murk. Every depth charge intercepts its target. With a series of muffled bangs, the deeper water freezes into an amorphous fusion of ice spheres a few meters across, encapsulating the light. This newly formed iceberg flies to break the surface, sending waves out that nearly upend the Matoran's canoe. She dives down to the bottom of the vessel in panic, clutching her spear.

You have caught yourself a gruesome sight. Locked behind the blue of the ice is, almost surely, a dead man. A legless torso, trailing spindly wires, terminates in a swirling halo of dark red blood around the head. A shattered mask, a noble Hau carved from crimson protodermis, lies cracked in half on a Matoran's face, nearly bisected. A wicked fragment of shrapnel lies embedded deep in the skull. One eye has fallen out, gone forever, the space behind it half-cobwebbed with a spray of reconstruction fibers. The other still flares with light, the glow rising and ebbing cyclically in the socket. He's cupping something in rigid hands that are held close against his chest.

The parts of the Ga-Matoran's face visible behind her mask are almost white with shock. Her voice quavers, but doesn't break. "Is he still in there? The light is on..." The other Toa draw closer in morbid interest as you wade deeper and dig your hand into the ice, molding in a handhold. You square your shoulders and begin to drag it to shore, the waves lapping at your shoulders. The Matoran follows close behind in her canoe.

Hyrri interjects quietly as if to finish the earlier conversation. "...executed?" The Matoran overhears, drifting out of her shock for a moment to reply. "Before I was born, in this half of the world they hauled the elemental warriors to the iron courts of justice in the West. They bound them in manacles of protodermis and threw them into great pits in the earth, where they could fall directly into hell. You'll meet the same end if the Wahi lords find you out." Her focus returns to the Ta-Matoran imprisoned in ice. She puts a hand on the surface and stares into the mass.

Behind you, there is a gasp and a thump. Avvlaa?

TOA


Hyrri [-]

"There's a red thing in the water-"

From the shore, you observe as Torra is cut short as she raises the alarm about some light beneath the waves. Oumu approaches. Celus springs into action: firing fragments of ice into the deep, he scores multiple hits. With a series of muffled bangs, the deeper water freezes into an amorphous fusion of ice spheres a few meters across, encapsulating the light. This newly formed iceberg flies to break the surface, sending waves out that nearly upend the Matoran's canoe. She dives down to the bottom of the vessel in panic, clutching her spear.

Celus has retrieved a gruesome sight. Locked behind the blue of the ice is a distorted shape. A legless torso, trailing spindly wires, terminates in a swirling halo of dark red blood around the head. A shattered mask, a noble Hau carved from crimson protodermis, lies cracked in half on a Matoran's face, nearly bisected. A wicked fragment of shrapnel lies embedded deep in the skull. One eye has fallen out, gone forever, the space behind it half-cobwebbed with a spray of reconstruction fibers. The other still flares with light, the glow rising and ebbing cyclically in the socket. He's cupping something in rigid hands that are held close against his chest.

The Ga-Matoran is looking a little pale underneath her mask. Her voice quavers, but doesn't break. "Is he still in there? The light is on..." The other Toa draw closer in morbid interest as Celus wade deeper and digs his hand into the ice, molding in a handhold and starting to drag it to shore. The Matoran follows close behind in her canoe.

The water villager left you with a discomforting thought. Your question falls almost unbidden out of your mouth after the surprise of the iceberg starts to fade. "...executed?" The Matoran overhears, drifting out of her shock for a moment to reply. "Before I was born, in this half of the world they hauled the elemental warriors to the iron courts of justice in the West. They bound them in manacles of protodermis and threw them into great pits in the earth, where they could fall directly into hell. You'll meet the same end if the Wahi lords find you out." What strange country do you find yourselves in?

Behind you, there is a gasp and a thump. Avvlaa?

TOA


Oumu [13]

"There's a red thing in the water-"

>Make way towards the canoe, ready to fight. If this area is as dangerous as she says, then this Matoran should worry more about her own safety...

The water is unpleasantly chilly, hissing violently against your armor - as a scion of fire you start to feel like you're being sapped, life force corroding away from the ankles down. As repulsive as it feels, you press deeper. However, you and Torra are both pre-empted by Celus swinging into action: firing fragments of ice into the deep, he scores multiple hits. With a series of muffled bangs, the deeper water freezes into an amorphous fusion of ice spheres a few meters across, encapsulating the light. This newly formed iceberg flies to break the surface, sending waves out that nearly upend the Matoran's canoe. She dives down to the bottom of the vessel in panic, clutching her spear.

Celus has retrieved a gruesome sight. Locked behind the blue of the ice is a broken form. A legless torso, trailing spindly wires, terminates in a swirling halo of dark red blood around the head. A shattered mask, a noble Hau carved from crimson protodermis, lies cracked in half on a Matoran's face, nearly bisected. A wicked fragment of shrapnel lies embedded deep in the skull. One eye has fallen out, gone forever, the space behind it half-cobwebbed with a spray of reconstruction fibers. The other still flares with light, the glow rising and ebbing cyclically in the socket. He's cupping something in rigid hands that are held close against his chest.

The Ga-Matoran's face appears almost frozen in horror. Her voice quavers, but doesn't break. "Is he still in there? The light is on..." The other Toa draw closer in morbid interest as Celus wades deeper and digs his hand into the ice, molding in a handhold and starting to drag it to shore. The Matoran follows close behind in her canoe.

Hyrri interjects quietly as if to finish the earlier conversation. "...executed?" The Matoran overhears, drifting out of her shock for a moment to reply. "Before I was born, in this half of the world they hauled the elemental warriors to the iron courts of justice in the West. They bound them in manacles of protodermis and threw them into great pits in the earth, where they could fall directly into hell. You'll meet the same end if the Wahi lords find you out." Her focus returns to the Ta-Matoran imprisoned in ice. She puts a hand on the surface and stares into the mass.

Behind you, there is a gasp and a thump. Avvlaa?

TOA


Koa'a [4]

There is a great commotion in the water. From the shore, you watch as Torra is cut short as she raises the alarm about some light beneath the waves. Oumu approaches. Celus springs into action: firing fragments of ice into the deep, he scores multiple hits. With a series of muffled bangs, the deeper water freezes into an amorphous fusion of ice spheres a few meters across, encapsulating the light. This newly formed iceberg flies to break the surface, sending waves out that nearly upend the Matoran's canoe. She dives down to the bottom of the vessel in panic, clutching her spear.

Celus has retrieved something nasty. Locked behind the blue of the ice is a grinning corpse. A legless torso, trailing spindly wires, terminates in a swirling halo of dark red blood around the head. A shattered mask, a noble Hau carved from crimson protodermis, lies cracked in half on a Matoran's face, nearly bisected. A wicked fragment of shrapnel lies embedded deep in the skull. One eye has fallen out, gone forever, the space behind it half-cobwebbed with a spray of reconstruction fibers. The other still flares with light, the glow rising and ebbing cyclically in the socket. He's cupping something in rigid hands that are held close against his chest.

The Ga-Matoran appears ashen with fear. Her voice quavers, but doesn't break. "Is he still in there? The light is on..." The other Toa draw closer in morbid interest as Celus wades deeper and digs his hand into the ice, molding in a handhold and starting to drag it to shore. The Matoran follows close behind in her canoe.

>Summon a rotor-driven hovering bird to perch on my shoulder.

You're not quite at the level where you can issue direct orders to nature. It should be possible to prepare the field for capturing a Rahi, however - you start generating a low wash of psychic waves, the power of your Ekat painting calm across the beach. If a rotor-bird were to linger, it could sink into a hypnagogic state just above sleep. It could... if you weren't being jammed. Your white noise is shattered by a rhythmic, metallic bark in the higher frequencies, a doglike baying from a direction you can't specify. Turning toward the shore, you note the simultaneous fluttering of the birds with each bark. Scrambling, avoidant behavior: they redistribute themselves randomly between strands of grass on a regular interval.

Hyrri interjects quietly as if to finish the earlier conversation. "...executed?" The Matoran overhears, drifting out of her shock for a moment to reply. "Before I was born, in this half of the world they hauled the elemental warriors to the iron courts of justice in the West. They bound them in manacles of protodermis and threw them into great pits in the earth, where they could fall directly into hell. You'll meet the same end if the Wahi lords find you out." Her focus returns to the Ta-Matoran imprisoned in ice. She puts a hand on the surface and stares into the mass.

Behind you, there is a gasp and a thump. Avvlaa?

TOA


Avvlaa [Ø]

You... why is it hard to string thoughts together? What? The lingering buzz from your electrically burned tissues is being replaced by a slithering coldness. More fragments of your memory reel start to throw themselves up, unwanted.


Unnerved, you drop your weapons and start to look over yourself as your breathing decays, becoming shallower and shallower by the second. You physically cannot draw in more air. Your hands palpate your body, looking for wounds. As you twist, a searing agony near your heart lets you know that all the damage was internal. You... weren't assembled properly by the canister. Destiny never meant for you to get off this goddamned beach. A joint between two armor plates on your chest starts to drip ochre blood. Probing the damage, your hand comes away reeking of blood, crusted with sand. Deposits of flaking stone start to crack open other joints, blooming across the surface of your armor. Your elemental charges are coming free...

"...no!"

With one last ragged gasp, you crumple to the ground, vision narrowing to a single point of blinding light as feeling vanishes -

The Toa of Stone, Avvlaa, has departed. The six elements are no longer in balance.

TOA