You were successful in repelling the robots attacking the city, but you've been left with far too many questions. For once, Tails doesn't have any answers for you, and a gloomy uncertainty has fallen over your three allies. It probably doesn't help that everyone had a rough time of it last week. A win is a win, but it doesn't really feel like a win when you're not even sure who this unknown threat is...
Regardless, life goes on. Things are a bit different this week in Chicago, however.
THE CITY
You'll need to be careful now more than ever when heading out into the city. Though Eggman's usual robots are still present, their numbers have been cut drastically. Far fewer drones patrol the streets, with only the occasional tank or B33 to be seen. You can still find and fight them, and they will still call for backup, but it seems like you all really have destroyed a lot of them.
But there are the new additions to Eggman's forces. Unlike the white chrome versions, these are here to cause problems. You can find them patrolling sometimes... but usually you'll find them in the city proper, destroying whatever they can. Whenever they catch sight of you, they will stop at nothing to try to pursue you and destroy you.
The city itself is still undergoing changes, with more of that white chrome spreading throughout, as if infecting the structures themselves. The Badniks will still destroy even that, though; it's more like they're mindless machines than carrying out any precise orders.
But in a stroke of good luck, occasionally you'll find that some of the humans recognize the danger they're in. It's only when confronted with a robot - but you might hear a scream, or see them try to run away, and if you save them, you may even be able to get a few words in before they simply return to their monotonous lives. You won't be able to get any truly valuable information from them, but they will thank you repeatedly for helping. They don't seem to realize that they're being controlled by someone else, even if you ask them about it.
VISIONS
If you thought last week was a lot, get ready for the madness of week 4!
You may still have nightmares. You may still be pulled into each others' nightmares (same as last week, if you'd like to play out more of these). Or maybe you'll finally be able to catch a break and get some z's, but even if you are lucky enough for that, you'll still be dealing with everything else.
You may find yourself randomly teleported into the city. This happens at random, and can happen to multiple people at the same time. One minute you may be waking up, the next you'll find yourself surrounded by robots ready to kill you. And yeah, the robots are a feature, not a bug. No matter how it happens, you will always be facing down robots whenever you're brought into the city. Enjoy!
But maybe your luck holds out and you're unaffected by that. Well, there's still the visions to deal with!
There are two different kinds of visions that may happen.
The first are the more minor ones - where you may see the people closest to you (positive or negative). They will appear for others as well, and they will gladly speak with you - though they aren't exactly behaving in the way they should. They will torment you, reminding you of past failures and imperfections, and speaking as though everything is your fault. They will follow you wherever you go, and will only fade when someone else has helped you come to terms with the horrid things they're saying. These visions are a manifestation of a character's psyche and thus are based on their own perceptions of their friends/enemies and their own faults. They're incapable of interacting with the world or the characters, but they sure can insult you!
The second are much larger in scope. No matter where you were, you may find yourself pulled into friend's memory. These memories are one-for-one versions of what exactly happened, though now you're here! Are you playing the role of someone else, or are you just a bystander in all that's happening?
The character having the vision may or may not be aware of you initially, but once they're made aware of your presence, the vision will still play out as the memory would. The only way to stop it - aside from simply letting it play out in its entirety - is to drastically alter the memory in such a way that it cannot get itself back on track. Considering the trauma some of the people in this game have, it might be a good idea to help break them free of it.
Regardless of which happens to you (the nightmares, the teleportation, or the visions), your vision will turn bright red for a moment afterwards - it vanishes quickly enough, but it leaves you with the eerie feeling that you're being watched.
SHARDS
Your powers are growing, and you'll find you're able to defend yourself with your power in some way, even if yours is a power made for support. All characters are now able to fire off a blast of energy in their shard color to defend themselves - this attack will grow stronger in time, but at least everyone should be able to defend themselves (somewhat) now?
As you fight with your allies - particularly those you have a close bond with, positive or negative - you may feel the tug of something in the back of your head; it tells you that you can do more. Together, you can become more powerful. You can use your shards together. Doing so will grant you a new power, or strengthen the one you already have. The more you trust one another, the easier this power will be to use.
It might be good to experiment with these new powers; after all, you never know when you may need them.
TAILS' TASKS
Like last week, Sonic Team is still in need of rings. Rings are still annoying to get. You'll probably need help to get them, but they're worth collecting. So make sure to grab some for Tails!
You may also be tasked with tracking Chaos Energy. Like with tracking rings, Tails will give you a device that can pick up on the signature. You should be careful in approaching, especially if the signature is a large one, considering the three enemies you faced last weekend. Still, Chaos Energy may lead you to more of Eggman's fake Chaos Emeralds, which could prove useful...
Tracking the source down will lead you to one of the weekly enemies with a shard somewhere on its body. It will be much harder to kill than the regular versions of that enemy, and capable of some kind of special power (players' choice). Crushing the shard will weaken the enemy and bring it back down to its normal power level, making it fairly easy to defeat, but if you manage to defeat it without breaking the shard, you can bring it back to Tails for examination.
ENEMIES
Though you can still find the enemies from previous weeks in Chicago throughout the city, their numbers have thinned. Mostly, you'll be running into new faces - robots that don't look anything like Eggman's usuals. They are very rarely actually patrolling or idling, instead focused on destroying parts of the city or attacking any people unfortunate enough to get in their way.
Moto Bugs are... rather cute. They roll around on their singular wheel and can slash with their front claws, though primarily they deal damage by ramming into things at fairly high speeds. They're fairly weak, all things considered, especially by now. They're completely powerless when knocked over or onto their backs. Though one Moto Bug is weak, you will never find them alone - instead, you'll usually find at least 3-5 of them in a group.
Crabmeats are robotic crabs. Where does the meat come in? Unclear. Regardless, they're stronger than Moto Bugs and are capable of both bashing with their massive claws and snipping, and either way they are capable of a good deal of damage if you get hit. They're slower though, which means getting out of the way shouldn't be too hard. Like Moto Bugs, these usually are never alone, often working in pairs.
Buzzers are bees. Did you think we were done with bees? We are absolutely not done with bees. These bees function almost identically to the B33 models in that they're capable of firing lasers from their stingers, divebombing to try to sting, and generally be(e)ing a nuisance. Unlike the B33 models, they do not have a glaringly obvious weak point and are a bit harder to hit and destroy as a result. Though you may rarely encounter only one of these bees out in the wild, usually you'll run into groups of them and they will not be(e) happy to see you.
1) [You ever just wake up from the Horrors only to be teleported to the top of the library? Or the middle of an intersection? Or the kitchenware section of Wal-Mart? And EVERY SINGLE TIME WITHOUT FAIL there are a dozen robots pointing lasers at your face?
Anyway, if you are out in the city and you hear Vakama swearing at the top of his lungs while running for cover: no you didn't. It's fine. The energy blasts and the random debris being tossed wildly followed by a huge swarm of robots in pursuit - that's normal. That's alright.]
2) [With the visions now happening in waking hours rather than just while asleep, one would think that more apparitions would be startling. Unsettling.
But Vakama doesn't seem to be any more interrupted than usual, trying to check in on the remainder of the group in his rounds throughout the building. If anything, he just looks to be in some amount of pain - expression always tight, hand often against his forehead, eyes sometimes struggling not to shrink to a pinpoint of light for a moment before flickering right back. He always shakes it off, though he returns to what he's doing with a little more aggression than before.
No matter where he is, he is always followed by another. About the height of their furry allies, always a slow and steady pace with the tap of his staff as a constant echo, always settled close by to Vakama with a quiet, older tone at everything he seems to do. Every show of temper, every turn of a corner, there is something chided to him in low tones, which only seems to make Vakama that much more upset.
But though he obviously listens, he never looks. He can't bear to.
Not at Lhikan.]
3) [FOR MEMORIES, please just respond requesting a memory and whether you would like it to be light or heavy and I will pick something that is fitting! If there is a specific subject you'd like to hear about or a timeframe of Vakama's life (ex. do you want to know how he got to be this way, do you want furry lore, do you want him being an asshole to his team, do you want to know about the time bomb on his possession, etc), please specify! You may also wildcard roulette and i'll give you two or three prompts to choose from if u are really starved for choice.]
4) [For those that did not get a chance for last week - congratulations, given the content, his current nightmares are still ongoing. CW: BLANKET CW FOR THE FOLLOWING: heavy hallucinatory aspects, disassociation, active mutation/body horror, apocalyptic imagery. Writeup can be found here, all responses will come from firespitter.]
[Roulette has chosen the following, let me know which you'd like to do. :3c
-1984 -- no cw. sometimes even best efforts are in vain under suspicious eyes. betrayal, failed combat, forced capture, fleeing from the authorities. There will be some group combat involved!
-get off your statue before I knock you down myself -- cw:arachnophobia. when arrogance turns to cruelty. cornered, arguments, a coming to blows. Possibility for combat, but optional.
-greater beings having a dick measuring contest and you just want to go home and eat your potato salad actually -- no cw. what it says on the tin. being forced collateral, escape plans, forcing threats, probably starting a war. Possibility for combat, but optional. ]
"Hard-ground entrance is blocked." It's a muttering from Matau, who looks absolutely exhausted and has to be helped to his feet by another. "We will have to use the test track emergency hatch. It's a short high-climb."
Though some take the time to check on one another in quiet tones, armors of blue and green and white and bronze and black, there is one who seems to be notedly absent. The armor of red, the Toa of Fire, who's already many paces ahead, waiting for his team to catch up, a narrowed look in his eyes that speaks mountains for what does not emerge from his mouth. Impatience.
It's an awkward trip made in silence; down the enormous ruined passageways, up a ladder that was barely hanging together, up into a tube lined with broken lights and glass, mechanisms to record speed and temperature, great fans that prop up at the distant end. A test track, for vehicles, meant to put crafts through as many hardships as possible for testing of durability.
Matau leads the way up, wrenching open the emergency hatch and crawling through, followed by Nuju. There's some distant chatter from above as Vakama tries to gesture the rest to hurry up, taking the rear.
"Look, brother - even in this dark-time, the stars keep shining. I don't think I've ever seen so many, even from Po-Metru. Isn't it beautiful?"
"---Get back inside!" It's a snap from Nuju, and forward progress is immediately halted as Matau is practically thrown back down the ladder. Those still on the ladder shout protest as they let go, sliding or tumbling back to the ground.
"Those aren't thousands of stars looking down upon us, brother," Nuju hisses, jumping back down with the hatch slamming shut behind him. "Those are eyes!"
Vakama is the first immediately scrambling back up the ladder to take a look for himself, Whenua right behind him. A long moment of tension stretches, as Whenua's mask lights up with a flicker to his eyes - a mask power, one that gives him far better vision than the rest of them.
Thousands and thousands of eyes. Thousands and thousands of legs. Chattering teeth that seem to move within the huge masses of webbing and rock with odd delicacy.
"Gukko birds?" asked Matau, hopefully. "No." "Stone rats? Ussal crabs? Really big protodites?" Whenua's expression scrunches up, looking back at Matau. "No, no, and what are you thinking?"
"Then what are they?" It's a demand more than a question from Vakama. "Why are they up there watching this place?"
Whenua's mask triggers off, but he doesn't respond, looking at the Toa of Fire and then looking away as he slides back down the ladder. Vakama lets out a sound of irritation at the move, but follows suit, crossing his arms in front of him and staring his fellow Toa down for an explanation.
"Vakama... they are Visorak. They're sitting on the webs they created. They're waiting us out, knowing we have to come out sometime."
"Visorak?" A parroting, hollow and with a brief disbelief, one that quickly turns to indignation. "Wait -- wait, no -- Onewa used that term on our journey back to the city, when his mind was controlled by that strange parasite. If you knew the name this whole time, why didn't you say so then?"
"I-I didn't make the connection." Whenua's gone quiet, backing up slightly, talking more with his hands than anything else. "It’s an obscure reference. I saw a portion of a carving once, long ago, that contained the name, but it took actually seeing them and their webs to --"
"You’re an archivist!" It's an explosive, immediate raising of voice from Vakama, advancing right up to the retreating Toa of Earth. "You are supposed to be able to identify the Rahi we run up against! Otherwise, what good are you?"
The entire group goes quiet. Whenua, stunned and hurt, says nothing.
It's Onewa whose face twists the fastest with anger in retaliation, nearly jumping to his feet to shove in front of Whenua.
"Hey. If we had turned back when the storm started, or sent a scouting party like I suggested, we wouldn't be in this mess. But you were in such a hurry to get back here so we could leave again that--"
"I am in a hurry to save the Matoran, just as you should be,” Vakama shoots back. "I made a promise to Toa Lhikan, and I, at least, intend to keep it."
"Did you make that promise when you let him get captured, or when he died saving your mask?"
Vakama stiffens immediately, and the Toa of Stone's eyes only sharpen. "I am starting to think it is not very healthy to be your friend."
"Far healthier than being my enemy." The air starts to heat, and Vakama's hands and arms start to swirl with fire, at the protest of several of the others. "If you have a problem with me or my leadership, carver, let's hear it."
Onewa doesn't even flinch at the threat, striding right up to practically spit in Vakama's face. "I have a problem with you, your leadership, your attitude, and your akilini-headed idea that only you have to live up to the legacy of Lhikan. We all do! We all have friends lying in Makuta-sleep under the Coliseum, and we all want to save them! We all know the price of failure! So get down off your Toa statue before I knock you down!”
Nokama attempts to walk forward and intervene, her own weapons drawing. But Onewa shoves himself back a step, his own weapons drawn. "I will fight alongside anyone – Toa, Rahi, Vahki, even the Dark Hunters themselves – to save the Matoran," spits out the Toa of Stone. "But Makuta take me if I will be a sidekick to a firespitter who still can't find his way out of a forge!"
If anyone else moves to break it up, it is lost within a verbal mess of noise, of Vakama advancing as Onewa follows suit with the swing of his weapon--]
[The moment is immediately lost as the memory dissolves, then snaps right back into the debris. Picking one another up, in the broken down transport hub. Vakama's expression is just as cold, just as impatient.]
Edited (NOW WITH ALL THE LINKS UNBROKEN OH NOOOOOO) 2025-02-05 16:28 (UTC)
[Well that sure was tense! Things are very uneasy around here, and not only because of the ungodly amounts of arachnids they had seen. Ed is quiet, trying not to call attention to himself -- he's not entirely sure how the visions work, and in this moment nobody needs an unexpected variant who probably would draw their ire. Weapons would get involved...more than it did already.
His immediate reaction after seeing that swing is step back, alarmed, and then the situation changed and they're in that broken transport hub. Is anyone...looking like they just got hurt? These all must be sturdy as heck, Ed is sure, but that doesn't mean being immune to harm.
Also, Vakama...my, that sure looked to Ed like you were under a lot of pressure, and in turn put way too much pressure on everyone else. No wonder things were on the verge of exploding. Now that he thinks about it, Vakama is the one likeliest to have gotten injured. That's why he's the one Ed pays attention to the most.
Vakama doesn't seem to be in any worse shape than the rest - battered, exhausted, but on his feet out of sheer drive and spite alike. If anything, Matau looks to be in the worst shape back with the rest of the group.
His eyes flick to Ed briefly, an acknowledgement of the oddity in a mere ripple, before looking back on his team.]
Get Matau back on his feet. This is his Metru, and his instructions are paramount. We're all exhausted. We'll have to get over it.
[From the clipped tone, Ed is apparently just another ghostly teammate here for the time being. But Vakama doesn't say more, evidently expecting Ed to decide whether he's going to obey or not.]
[RNG said this is happening inside W*l-Mart, thanks RNG.
He nearly wrenches his arm trying to ricochet himself 90 degrees at the end of an aisle, panting for breath as he turns to try and see where the additional lasers are coming from--
oh goddammit not you.
The annoyance that flickers is incredibly brief, at least -- looks like he has no need to air out his negative feelings in the middle of combat. So he just nods the acknowledgement of their presence as he continues his retreat, a light fixture above sparking with a screech of metal as it is pulled from the ceiling to slam down on two of the advancing robots.]
Come to make some fun of it, Void Archive, or do you just like watching me get some exercise?
Not at all. After all, I did happen to get caught up in it, didn't I? It would be foolish for me to even start since that was the case.
[ That should sound believable enough despite the rough history between the both of them. Typically self-serving and whatnot, but... ]
Rather, I would like to discuss something with you instead. It's about how the state of our conversations have seemed to have transpired. Of course, we're in a situation of sorts right about now, but after that...
[ They don't have time to make this far more refined given they're on a retreat and on the backfoot, but they are doing their best at this. The blond makes sure to shoot a laser beam of light at any more robots that manage to have slipped through. ]
As though that's ever stopped you from speaking your mind before -- [A dry response as his launcher is lifted to blast in tandem. Explosions echo in the Chicago Wal-Mart. Very safe.
With Void Archive having disabled a large chunk of their pursuers, and Vakama's disk catching the remaining in a minor blast that sends them crashing backwards into the apparel section, they can at least stay in the clear for the present. Vakama leans over against one of the aisle endcaps to fully catch his breath, swinging his weapon onto his back as he narrows his eyes at Void Archive.]
What exactly do you want?
[Because as far as he is concerned, there is either there's a catch, or he's just in for another round of insults, and he really isn't happy about either option. But he holds his tongue further.]
[ Very safe indeed. They are keeping an eye on things too, but... ]
Oh, to clear the air.
You see...
[ Void Archives takes pause on account of the fact that they've never had to do any of this before. As in trying to elevate any sort of previous damage.
They pause, standing there, considering.
...
Damnit, how do people do this...forget it, does it even matter. They don't need to do this at all, this is stupid, and they don't need any of these bonds or - no, they can't turn around and stop this. They should've written a script for this. ]
I realize that perhaps...hm, give me a moment to try to phrase this properly. I did want to try to make things at least a tad bit better, whenever we spoke.
You see, I noticed that when matters have deteriorated, there have been copious amounts of unfortunate back and forth. Which, I believe normally isn't something I'm concerned about. However, there have been times when I have attempted to communicate an understanding or even some manner of ... considerate thinking, and it has been rebuffed or misunderstood.
I realize that while it takes two people to cause such misunderstandings or for thoughts of mutual anger to transpire between them, I cannot be considered blameless, given that I do prefer to incite certain reactions quite often. There is no use denying it, so I won't bother.
Yet, seeing what I have over the past days, I would prefer it be clear that I'm not approaching delicate situations regarding yourself with a desire to sabotage them. In your personal opinion is it salvageable? Before we can proceed further on the topic.
[ They're trying this out, just a tad. Not that they're going to fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness, but they wish to see if they can straighten matters out - granted, they never done that before. However, they pride themselves on being nothing like Otto, who wouldn't have bothered. ]
Them actually pausing is the most immediate oddity right off the start, and surprisingly, what gets Vakama's posture to stop being quite so tense. He stays quiet, frown thin but otherwise paying attention, some of the sharpness in his eyes dying the longer Void Archive continues.
Misunderstandings, huh.
His arms fold in front of him, eyes drifting away for a moment.]
It depends. [Guarded, but lacking the bite from the last time they spoke.]
Are you trying to salvage our communication, or something else?
[The memory plays once, fully, in a firm state of uninterrupted continuity.] [It's a push and pull of time that stretches. Vakama is smaller, shorter, waking up on a smooth stone slab in a small space with very little decoration, accolades of carved stone and dyed fabrics hung on the walls but not quite taken care of. Afterthoughts. He doesn't look at them as he gathers his effects and slides out the door.
And on every avenue are Matoran. Just like Vakama, with different masks and slightly different shades of orange and red, but all similar enough to form the collective.
The people of Ta-Metru.
Much larger robots patrol the streets as Vakama walks. Every Matoran, Ta-Matoran and visitors alike, instinctively turn away as they march through mechanically -- avoiding eye contact, attempting to not get in their way or apologizing if they stumble too close. Vakama's own pace speeds up a little, choosing to look through the mesh walkway as he stumbles towards a flight of stairs. A larger structure loops downward, rows upon rows upon rows of foundries settled stairstepped from one another - some shared by many, with others kept private.
It is to one of the private rooms that Vakama retreats. What greetings are given are returned with timidity, a nod or a stammered hello but not much else. Many eyes watch and recognize. Some judge, knowing glances, whispers of strange behavior.
It is in the quiet of his foundry that Vakama finally can relax and fall into routine. A mix of science and math and artistry under the burning light of a forge and a protective eyepiece for his face - metal disks being carefully selected, melted down, joined together and tested. Metal into molds, with white hot slag hammered with a hand seemingly far more confident than its owner. Lost in the art of creation.
A knock rings at his doorway. Vakama eventually looks up to see someone he is clearly not expecting, starting and nearly snapping the metal that sits pinned at his workbench.
"T-Turaga?? Ah, I didn't get notice of your coming to the forges today, sir, I--"
The Turaga raises a hand with a smooth chuckle. Though he is flanked on both sides by several of the same robots who now block the entrance, he seems unperturbed. Fatherly, almost.
"Be at ease, Vakama. Treat me as a customer, not your leader.
I've heard tales of the quality of your craftsmanship. No other would be recommended more than you for a product that could withstand the test of time.
I've come to commission you. Not just for a mask, but for something that will be the definition for your career."
Vakama, dumbfounded, starts to nod, before shaking his head. "A-ah -- I mean, I will always make time for the needs of the Coliseum, Turaga. But what exactly did you have in mind?"
The Turaga chuckles, casually strolling around the room to examine the disks strewn about, the masks completed and trashed alike.
"Tell me. Have you ever heard of a Mask of Time?"
Vakama shakes his head.
"Then I would like you to get used to the sound of it. Because that is what I would like to see you create. It is what I know you can create."
There is something not quite right, in the crevices of the compliment. Not something that Vakama himself seems to notice, too caught up in the alarm of the entire visit.
"I-I... I mean, it would have to take a lot of experimentation, but--" "Experimentation is necessary for the growth of our society. Whatever time you need to dedicate to it, consider it a priority. I would like to have it ready before the dawn of the next Great Contest."
From how Vakama's eyes widen, the timeframe is rather slim given the request. But while he stammers a protest, it doesn't quite make it out, intimidated as he looks to where the Turaga handles one of his creations.
"If you are to succeed, Vakama, then the destiny of the entire city will owe much to you. I trust you will not disappoint?"
...
Vakama looks up towards the Turaga, then down towards the floor.
"Of... of course, Turaga. I'm honored."
"Perfect."
Something is not right. Something cannot be right. But the entourage leaves the forge without any further question or rebuttal, and Vakama is left to stare at the forge of his fire, a numbly frantic gathering of stone to try and carve out notes.
The destiny of the city? On a mask?
On him?
...
What a joke the Turaga must be playing.
---]
[With a snap, the memory resets. Vakama's back in his home, gathering his things.]
Edited (NOW WITH ALL THE LINKS NOT BROKEN CRYMEOW) 2025-02-05 16:08 (UTC)
[ Yves is fascinated as the memory plays out-- he remains an observer out of politeness, because this might be a comforting memory for him. It would feel weird to interrupt, then. At least, it seemed comforting until Vakama is given what sounds like a very demanding task. Yves feels a good deal of sympathy for the pressure that must put on him, here he was a pretty reserved person, so to be approached like that... ]
Were you going to do this on your own, Vakama? That sounds like a lot of pressure to put on you.
[ So much for observing, but the words just slip out after the memory resets. He thought they were back, but it seems not? More of the memory... where is he going? ]
[It seems to be the same exact circumstance, just on repeat! Enjoy Vakama being four foot tall for this.
At the sound of someone else's voice, Vakama starts, a chair knocking askew as he frantically holds a writing utensil in front of him like a defensive measure.]
...W-what? [A momentary flicker - he knows this tall one, what are they doing here-] What are you doing in my house?
[ Ack, this is awkward. Now he's actually part of this, which is probably weird for the smaller Vakama (so small)... He's a conscientious guy, for all his ditzy moments. ]
Uh... visiting! Sorry... This is an awkward time to do that, I'm sure.
[ He tries to give a friendly smile. Vakama's about to leave, so... ]
[A beat passes, his eyes narrowing slightly as he keeps trying to place Yves in his mind. But something stops him, the bold look in his eyes breaking for something far meeker as he tries to gather his thoughts, gaze drifting to the passing shadow of a sundial set in the lone windowsill.]
I... I don't see why not. We both have places to be, I'm sure... a-and I don't want any more trouble with the Vahki than you do.
[So, y'know. Get your weirdly tall frame out of his house and he'll ignore it, he's got to get to work.]
The memory plays once, fully, in a firm state of uninterrupted continuity. [The sky cracks with lighting and darkened clouds. Giant pillars emerge from a silver sea to toss a makeshift boat far below between its crashing waves.
But Vakama is far above it. Far, far above, his body aching from an enormous fall, now crawling up the rock face of a cliff that seems to extend into the heavens and far off into the horizon. The Great Barrier.
It is determination and determination alone that keeps him going, a firm struggling push up over the edge to roll onto his knees in an automatic defensive posture.
All the better. For opposite him is his goal. A being nearly three times his size, armor pitted with black and green and brown, enormous wings that stretch behind him with eyes of deep crimson. The Makuta.
He who set their city to ruin. Their people to sleep.
Makuta reacts exactly how he expected. A showering of compliments. An offer that chills him to the bone. But with defiance and little thought for logic, Vakama puts the mask to his face, rather than surrender it.
Makuta's chestplate immediately snaps open, dark energy gathering and shooting forward. And in the same instance, the mask triggers.
The surge of time dilation itself immediately ripples out from Vakama in a nauseating wave. First in the immediate area, like the forceful grinding of gears to a halt as they try to push on as they always have. It stutters, then rapidly starts to expand, a snowball effect that is rapidly starting to lose control.
For it takes an immense call of willpower to control a Great Mask. Even more so to wield one that controls the flow of time itself.
Vakama rapidly realizes two things as time escapes him. First: while Makuta is completely stilled, the energy that rushes forward from him is not, a slowed but noticeable march forward. And second?
Vakama himself is frozen.
A power used in desperation now leaves him completely open. And as he desperately tries to turn the mask off, his hold on the things around him grow weaker. Makuta starts to move again. Vakama still can't move a muscle. The reaching blast of dark energy moves that much faster. And the sheer magnitude of the power in his body, in his mind, spirals further and further out of control. Seconds feeling like years. Reality starting to twist.
So focused he is on containing the uncontainable, Vakama does not notice the third person that has also been freed from the grasp in his distress. He does not notice the figure of gold and red, significantly shorter, pushing with all his might to throw himself bodily in front of the Toa, until it's far too late.
The energy makes contact. Ricochets. The body goes flying to the side in a crackle of red energy. The Mask of Time is thrown off Vakama's face in the knock back, tossing him onto his back and blowing the wind out of him. And as the Mask of Time screeches across the stone and down the Great Barrier -- as Makuta lets out a massive roar and dives through the air after it --
[ Well, that was... That certainly was a moment not meant for More, holding an amount of significance that he'd never be able to fully comprehend. He feels like an interloper, just watching, and then as the replay puts himself onto the scene, he also feels woefully underprepared. ]
Vakama... Who is that?
[ Makuta looks like a mighty foe but... A brief note of context feels like it might be helpful for preventing what is to come, if only in memories. ]
[He shoves himself up to the cliff's edge, holding a hand out to help More up alongside him. A slight disbalance in stability, the memory trying to correct and make logic of the new addition.]
That would be the Makuta. Cobbled together with the corpses of his servants, from the look of it.
He already took our city. Put our people into an endless sleep. We cannot let him go any further.
[ The corpses of....? Okay. Yikes. More takes the offered hand and catches his footing on the stone platform. Though he's just seen the memory play out, he takes a short moment to look around.
This is... looking pretty dire, as far as other options are concerned. But he has to try, or they won't get out of here. ]
Yet we cannot be careless. Attempting to go beyond our abilities may invite ruin in itself.
...We have gone on this far with our abilities at their lowest. Some of us more than others.
[Makuta has yet to notice them, but it does not stop Vakama from still pulling the Mask of Time out to rest in his hands. Where was he keeping that? Who knows, we don't discuss the hammerspace that is their inventory in this film.]
I will not let the last waking remnants of our people drown in the ocean. If he can be distracted, we have a chance... and he wants little more in the world than time at his disposal.
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[You ever just wake up from the Horrors only to be teleported to the top of the library? Or the middle of an intersection? Or the kitchenware section of Wal-Mart? And EVERY SINGLE TIME WITHOUT FAIL there are a dozen robots pointing lasers at your face?
Anyway, if you are out in the city and you hear Vakama swearing at the top of his lungs while running for cover: no you didn't. It's fine. The energy blasts and the random debris being tossed wildly followed by a huge swarm of robots in pursuit - that's normal. That's alright.]
2)
[With the visions now happening in waking hours rather than just while asleep, one would think that more apparitions would be startling. Unsettling.
But Vakama doesn't seem to be any more interrupted than usual, trying to check in on the remainder of the group in his rounds throughout the building. If anything, he just looks to be in some amount of pain - expression always tight, hand often against his forehead, eyes sometimes struggling not to shrink to a pinpoint of light for a moment before flickering right back. He always shakes it off, though he returns to what he's doing with a little more aggression than before.
No matter where he is, he is always followed by another. About the height of their furry allies, always a slow and steady pace with the tap of his staff as a constant echo, always settled close by to Vakama with a quiet, older tone at everything he seems to do. Every show of temper, every turn of a corner, there is something chided to him in low tones, which only seems to make Vakama that much more upset.
But though he obviously listens, he never looks. He can't bear to.
Not at Lhikan.]
3)
[FOR MEMORIES, please just respond requesting a memory and whether you would like it to be light or heavy and I will pick something that is fitting! If there is a specific subject you'd like to hear about or a timeframe of Vakama's life (ex. do you want to know how he got to be this way, do you want furry lore, do you want him being an asshole to his team, do you want to know about the time bomb on his possession, etc), please specify! You may also wildcard roulette and i'll give you two or three prompts to choose from if u are really starved for choice.]
4)
[For those that did not get a chance for last week - congratulations, given the content, his current nightmares are still ongoing. CW: BLANKET CW FOR THE FOLLOWING: heavy hallucinatory aspects, disassociation, active mutation/body horror, apocalyptic imagery. Writeup can be found here, all responses will come from
3
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-1984 -- no cw. sometimes even best efforts are in vain under suspicious eyes. betrayal, failed combat, forced capture, fleeing from the authorities. There will be some group combat involved!
-get off your statue before I knock you down myself -- cw:arachnophobia. when arrogance turns to cruelty. cornered, arguments, a coming to blows. Possibility for combat, but optional.
-greater beings having a dick measuring contest and you just want to go home and eat your potato salad actually -- no cw. what it says on the tin. being forced collateral, escape plans, forcing threats, probably starting a war. Possibility for combat, but optional. ]
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cw: arachnophobia
[The memory plays once, fully, in a firm state of uninterrupted continuity.]
[Metal and glass and stone crunches underfoot, webs of green hanging overhead in thick, messy strands that stretch to almost every building. A team of six regroups under the broken eaves of what used to be some sort of transport loading hub, trying to pick each other up off the ground.
"Let’s get out of this place." Curt, to the point, as Nuju is tend to do.
"Hard-ground entrance is blocked." It's a muttering from Matau, who looks absolutely exhausted and has to be helped to his feet by another. "We will have to use the test track emergency hatch. It's a short high-climb."
Though some take the time to check on one another in quiet tones, armors of blue and green and white and bronze and black, there is one who seems to be notedly absent. The armor of red, the Toa of Fire, who's already many paces ahead, waiting for his team to catch up, a narrowed look in his eyes that speaks mountains for what does not emerge from his mouth. Impatience.
It's an awkward trip made in silence; down the enormous ruined passageways, up a ladder that was barely hanging together, up into a tube lined with broken lights and glass, mechanisms to record speed and temperature, great fans that prop up at the distant end. A test track, for vehicles, meant to put crafts through as many hardships as possible for testing of durability.
Matau leads the way up, wrenching open the emergency hatch and crawling through, followed by Nuju. There's some distant chatter from above as Vakama tries to gesture the rest to hurry up, taking the rear.
"Look, brother - even in this dark-time, the stars keep shining. I don't think I've ever seen so many, even from Po-Metru. Isn't it beautiful?"
"---Get back inside!" It's a snap from Nuju, and forward progress is immediately halted as Matau is practically thrown back down the ladder. Those still on the ladder shout protest as they let go, sliding or tumbling back to the ground.
"Those aren't thousands of stars looking down upon us, brother," Nuju hisses, jumping back down with the hatch slamming shut behind him. "Those are eyes!"
Vakama is the first immediately scrambling back up the ladder to take a look for himself, Whenua right behind him. A long moment of tension stretches, as Whenua's mask lights up with a flicker to his eyes - a mask power, one that gives him far better vision than the rest of them.
Thousands and thousands of eyes. Thousands and thousands of legs. Chattering teeth that seem to move within the huge masses of webbing and rock with odd delicacy.
"Gukko birds?" asked Matau, hopefully.
"No."
"Stone rats? Ussal crabs? Really big protodites?"
Whenua's expression scrunches up, looking back at Matau. "No, no, and what are you thinking?"
"Then what are they?" It's a demand more than a question from Vakama. "Why are they up there watching this place?"
Whenua's mask triggers off, but he doesn't respond, looking at the Toa of Fire and then looking away as he slides back down the ladder. Vakama lets out a sound of irritation at the move, but follows suit, crossing his arms in front of him and staring his fellow Toa down for an explanation.
"Vakama... they are Visorak. They're sitting on the webs they created. They're waiting us out, knowing we have to come out sometime."
"Visorak?" A parroting, hollow and with a brief disbelief, one that quickly turns to indignation. "Wait -- wait, no -- Onewa used that term on our journey back to the city, when his mind was controlled by that strange parasite. If you knew the name this whole time, why didn't you say so then?"
"I-I didn't make the connection." Whenua's gone quiet, backing up slightly, talking more with his hands than anything else. "It’s an obscure reference. I saw a portion
of a carving once, long ago, that contained the name, but it took actually seeing them and their webs to --"
"You’re an archivist!" It's an explosive, immediate raising of voice from Vakama, advancing right up to the retreating Toa of Earth. "You are supposed to be able to identify the Rahi we run up against! Otherwise, what good are you?"
The entire group goes quiet. Whenua, stunned and hurt, says nothing.
It's Onewa whose face twists the fastest with anger in retaliation, nearly jumping to his feet to shove in front of Whenua.
"Hey. If we had turned back when the storm started, or sent a scouting party like I suggested, we wouldn't be in this mess. But you were in such a hurry to get back here so we could leave again that--"
"I am in a hurry to save the Matoran, just as you should be,” Vakama shoots back. "I made a promise to Toa Lhikan, and I, at least, intend to keep it."
"Did you make that promise when you let him get captured, or when he died saving your mask?"
Vakama stiffens immediately, and the Toa of Stone's eyes only sharpen. "I am starting to think it is not very healthy to be your friend."
"Far healthier than being my enemy." The air starts to heat, and Vakama's hands and arms start to swirl with fire, at the protest of several of the others. "If you have a problem with me or my leadership, carver, let's hear it."
Onewa doesn't even flinch at the threat, striding right up to practically spit in Vakama's face. "I have a problem with you, your leadership, your attitude, and your akilini-headed idea that only you have to live up to the legacy of Lhikan. We all do! We all have friends lying in Makuta-sleep under the Coliseum, and we all want to save them! We all know the price of failure! So get down off your Toa statue before I knock you down!”
Nokama attempts to walk forward and intervene, her own weapons drawing. But Onewa shoves himself back a step, his own weapons drawn. "I will fight alongside anyone – Toa, Rahi, Vahki, even the Dark Hunters themselves – to save the Matoran," spits out the Toa of Stone. "But Makuta take me if I will be a sidekick to a firespitter who still can't find his way out of a forge!"
If anyone else moves to break it up, it is lost within a verbal mess of noise, of Vakama advancing as Onewa follows suit with the swing of his weapon--]
[The moment is immediately lost as the memory dissolves, then snaps right back into the debris. Picking one another up, in the broken down transport hub. Vakama's expression is just as cold, just as impatient.]
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His immediate reaction after seeing that swing is step back, alarmed, and then the situation changed and they're in that broken transport hub. Is anyone...looking like they just got hurt? These all must be sturdy as heck, Ed is sure, but that doesn't mean being immune to harm.
Also, Vakama...my, that sure looked to Ed like you were under a lot of pressure, and in turn put way too much pressure on everyone else. No wonder things were on the verge of exploding. Now that he thinks about it, Vakama is the one likeliest to have gotten injured. That's why he's the one Ed pays attention to the most.
You hurt, Vakama?]
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Vakama doesn't seem to be in any worse shape than the rest - battered, exhausted, but on his feet out of sheer drive and spite alike. If anything, Matau looks to be in the worst shape back with the rest of the group.
His eyes flick to Ed briefly, an acknowledgement of the oddity in a mere ripple, before looking back on his team.]
Get Matau back on his feet. This is his Metru, and his instructions are paramount. We're all exhausted. We'll have to get over it.
[From the clipped tone, Ed is apparently just another ghostly teammate here for the time being. But Vakama doesn't say more, evidently expecting Ed to decide whether he's going to obey or not.]
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1);
Well, they can't leave him to fend for himself, they need to talk to him about something particularly important.
So they try to close the gap between all of that even if this is gonna suck. Time for some light energy beams and blasts. Pew pew. ]
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He nearly wrenches his arm trying to ricochet himself 90 degrees at the end of an aisle, panting for breath as he turns to try and see where the additional lasers are coming from--
oh goddammit not you.
The annoyance that flickers is incredibly brief, at least -- looks like he has no need to air out his negative feelings in the middle of combat. So he just nods the acknowledgement of their presence as he continues his retreat, a light fixture above sparking with a screech of metal as it is pulled from the ceiling to slam down on two of the advancing robots.]
Come to make some fun of it, Void Archive, or do you just like watching me get some exercise?
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[ That should sound believable enough despite the rough history between the both of them. Typically self-serving and whatnot, but... ]
Rather, I would like to discuss something with you instead. It's about how the state of our conversations have seemed to have transpired. Of course, we're in a situation of sorts right about now, but after that...
[ They don't have time to make this far more refined given they're on a retreat and on the backfoot, but they are doing their best at this. The blond makes sure to shoot a laser beam of light at any more robots that manage to have slipped through. ]
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With Void Archive having disabled a large chunk of their pursuers, and Vakama's disk catching the remaining in a minor blast that sends them crashing backwards into the apparel section, they can at least stay in the clear for the present. Vakama leans over against one of the aisle endcaps to fully catch his breath, swinging his weapon onto his back as he narrows his eyes at Void Archive.]
What exactly do you want?
[Because as far as he is concerned, there is either there's a catch, or he's just in for another round of insults, and he really isn't happy about either option. But he holds his tongue further.]
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Oh, to clear the air.
You see...
[ Void Archives takes pause on account of the fact that they've never had to do any of this before. As in trying to elevate any sort of previous damage.
They pause, standing there, considering.
...
Damnit, how do people do this...forget it, does it even matter. They don't need to do this at all, this is stupid, and they don't need any of these bonds or - no, they can't turn around and stop this. They should've written a script for this. ]
I realize that perhaps...hm, give me a moment to try to phrase this properly. I did want to try to make things at least a tad bit better, whenever we spoke.
You see, I noticed that when matters have deteriorated, there have been copious amounts of unfortunate back and forth. Which, I believe normally isn't something I'm concerned about. However, there have been times when I have attempted to communicate an understanding or even some manner of ... considerate thinking, and it has been rebuffed or misunderstood.
I realize that while it takes two people to cause such misunderstandings or for thoughts of mutual anger to transpire between them, I cannot be considered blameless, given that I do prefer to incite certain reactions quite often. There is no use denying it, so I won't bother.
Yet, seeing what I have over the past days, I would prefer it be clear that I'm not approaching delicate situations regarding yourself with a desire to sabotage them. In your personal opinion is it salvageable? Before we can proceed further on the topic.
[ They're trying this out, just a tad. Not that they're going to fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness, but they wish to see if they can straighten matters out - granted, they never done that before. However, they pride themselves on being nothing like Otto, who wouldn't have bothered. ]
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Them actually pausing is the most immediate oddity right off the start, and surprisingly, what gets Vakama's posture to stop being quite so tense. He stays quiet, frown thin but otherwise paying attention, some of the sharpness in his eyes dying the longer Void Archive continues.
Misunderstandings, huh.
His arms fold in front of him, eyes drifting away for a moment.]
It depends. [Guarded, but lacking the bite from the last time they spoke.]
Are you trying to salvage our communication, or something else?
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I CANT BELIEVE I LOST THIS NOOO
all good!
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3
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[The memory plays once, fully, in a firm state of uninterrupted continuity.]
[It's a push and pull of time that stretches. Vakama is smaller, shorter, waking up on a smooth stone slab in a small space with very little decoration, accolades of carved stone and dyed fabrics hung on the walls but not quite taken care of. Afterthoughts. He doesn't look at them as he gathers his effects and slides out the door.
The borough is a cacophony of metal hitting metal in varying rhythms, of steam and smoke and warmth. Molten rivers flow through massive pipes, steam and gears and enormous machinery move things this way and that, with airships constantly passing in the spaces high overhead. Chutes of high-speed magnetic liquid criss-cross the horizon.
And on every avenue are Matoran. Just like Vakama, with different masks and slightly different shades of orange and red, but all similar enough to form the collective.
The people of Ta-Metru.
Much larger robots patrol the streets as Vakama walks. Every Matoran, Ta-Matoran and visitors alike, instinctively turn away as they march through mechanically -- avoiding eye contact, attempting to not get in their way or apologizing if they stumble too close. Vakama's own pace speeds up a little, choosing to look through the mesh walkway as he stumbles towards a flight of stairs. A larger structure loops downward, rows upon rows upon rows of foundries settled stairstepped from one another - some shared by many, with others kept private.
It is to one of the private rooms that Vakama retreats. What greetings are given are returned with timidity, a nod or a stammered hello but not much else. Many eyes watch and recognize. Some judge, knowing glances, whispers of strange behavior.
It is in the quiet of his foundry that Vakama finally can relax and fall into routine. A mix of science and math and artistry under the burning light of a forge and a protective eyepiece for his face - metal disks being carefully selected, melted down, joined together and tested. Metal into molds, with white hot slag hammered with a hand seemingly far more confident than its owner. Lost in the art of creation.
A knock rings at his doorway. Vakama eventually looks up to see someone he is clearly not expecting, starting and nearly snapping the metal that sits pinned at his workbench.
"T-Turaga?? Ah, I didn't get notice of your coming to the forges today, sir, I--"
The Turaga raises a hand with a smooth chuckle. Though he is flanked on both sides by several of the same robots who now block the entrance, he seems unperturbed. Fatherly, almost.
"Be at ease, Vakama. Treat me as a customer, not your leader.
I've heard tales of the quality of your craftsmanship. No other would be recommended more than you for a product that could withstand the test of time.
I've come to commission you. Not just for a mask, but for something that will be the definition for your career."
Vakama, dumbfounded, starts to nod, before shaking his head. "A-ah -- I mean, I will always make time for the needs of the Coliseum, Turaga. But what exactly did you have in mind?"
The Turaga chuckles, casually strolling around the room to examine the disks strewn about, the masks completed and trashed alike.
"Tell me. Have you ever heard of a Mask of Time?"
Vakama shakes his head.
"Then I would like you to get used to the sound of it. Because that is what I would like to see you create. It is what I know you can create."
There is something not quite right, in the crevices of the compliment. Not something that Vakama himself seems to notice, too caught up in the alarm of the entire visit.
"I-I... I mean, it would have to take a lot of experimentation, but--"
"Experimentation is necessary for the growth of our society. Whatever time you need to dedicate to it, consider it a priority. I would like to have it ready before the dawn of the next Great Contest."
From how Vakama's eyes widen, the timeframe is rather slim given the request. But while he stammers a protest, it doesn't quite make it out, intimidated as he looks to where the Turaga handles one of his creations.
"If you are to succeed, Vakama, then the destiny of the entire city will owe much to you. I trust you will not disappoint?"
...
Vakama looks up towards the Turaga, then down towards the floor.
"Of... of course, Turaga. I'm honored."
"Perfect."
Something is not right. Something cannot be right. But the entourage leaves the forge without any further question or rebuttal, and Vakama is left to stare at the forge of his fire, a numbly frantic gathering of stone to try and carve out notes.
The destiny of the city? On a mask?
On him?
...
What a joke the Turaga must be playing.
---]
[With a snap, the memory resets. Vakama's back in his home, gathering his things.]
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Were you going to do this on your own, Vakama? That sounds like a lot of pressure to put on you.
[ So much for observing, but the words just slip out after the memory resets. He thought they were back, but it seems not? More of the memory... where is he going? ]
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At the sound of someone else's voice, Vakama starts, a chair knocking askew as he frantically holds a writing utensil in front of him like a defensive measure.]
...W-what? [A momentary flicker - he knows this tall one, what are they doing here-] What are you doing in my house?
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Uh... visiting! Sorry... This is an awkward time to do that, I'm sure.
[ He tries to give a friendly smile. Vakama's about to leave, so... ]
Can I follow you?
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I... I don't see why not. We both have places to be, I'm sure... a-and I don't want any more trouble with the Vahki than you do.
[So, y'know. Get your weirdly tall frame out of his house and he'll ignore it, he's got to get to work.]
Remind me of your name again?
3)
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The memory plays once, fully, in a firm state of uninterrupted continuity.
[The sky cracks with lighting and darkened clouds. Giant pillars emerge from a silver sea to toss a makeshift boat far below between its crashing waves.
But Vakama is far above it. Far, far above, his body aching from an enormous fall, now crawling up the rock face of a cliff that seems to extend into the heavens and far off into the horizon. The Great Barrier.
It is determination and determination alone that keeps him going, a firm struggling push up over the edge to roll onto his knees in an automatic defensive posture.
All the better. For opposite him is his goal. A being nearly three times his size, armor pitted with black and green and brown, enormous wings that stretch behind him with eyes of deep crimson. The Makuta.
He who set their city to ruin. Their people to sleep.
His jaw sets. And as he straightens to his feet, he pulls out exactly what he knows the Makuta wants.
Makuta reacts exactly how he expected. A showering of compliments. An offer that chills him to the bone. But with defiance and little thought for logic, Vakama puts the mask to his face, rather than surrender it.
Makuta's chestplate immediately snaps open, dark energy gathering and shooting forward. And in the same instance, the mask triggers.
The surge of time dilation itself immediately ripples out from Vakama in a nauseating wave. First in the immediate area, like the forceful grinding of gears to a halt as they try to push on as they always have. It stutters, then rapidly starts to expand, a snowball effect that is rapidly starting to lose control.
For it takes an immense call of willpower to control a Great Mask. Even more so to wield one that controls the flow of time itself.
Vakama rapidly realizes two things as time escapes him. First: while Makuta is completely stilled, the energy that rushes forward from him is not, a slowed but noticeable march forward. And second?
Vakama himself is frozen.
A power used in desperation now leaves him completely open. And as he desperately tries to turn the mask off, his hold on the things around him grow weaker. Makuta starts to move again. Vakama still can't move a muscle. The reaching blast of dark energy moves that much faster. And the sheer magnitude of the power in his body, in his mind, spirals further and further out of control. Seconds feeling like years. Reality starting to twist.
So focused he is on containing the uncontainable, Vakama does not notice the third person that has also been freed from the grasp in his distress. He does not notice the figure of gold and red, significantly shorter, pushing with all his might to throw himself bodily in front of the Toa, until it's far too late.
The energy makes contact. Ricochets. The body goes flying to the side in a crackle of red energy. The Mask of Time is thrown off Vakama's face in the knock back, tossing him onto his back and blowing the wind out of him. And as the Mask of Time screeches across the stone and down the Great Barrier -- as Makuta lets out a massive roar and dives through the air after it --
-- Vakama, instead, runs for the damaged body of Turaga Lhikan - his mentor.
It is the only time, in their short time together, that anyone has ever called Vakama by his title.
It is the only time that Lhikan has ever called any of them "Brother".
And with one quick mistake, he is gone. And it feels entirely, completely, like it is your fault.]
---
[The memory will snap back to the start, of Vakama and whoever is alongside him shoving themselves up the rockface.]
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Vakama... Who is that?
[ Makuta looks like a mighty foe but... A brief note of context feels like it might be helpful for preventing what is to come, if only in memories. ]
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That would be the Makuta. Cobbled together with the corpses of his servants, from the look of it.
He already took our city. Put our people into an endless sleep. We cannot let him go any further.
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This is... looking pretty dire, as far as other options are concerned. But he has to try, or they won't get out of here. ]
Yet we cannot be careless. Attempting to go beyond our abilities may invite ruin in itself.
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[Makuta has yet to notice them, but it does not stop Vakama from still pulling the Mask of Time out to rest in his hands. Where was he keeping that? Who knows, we don't discuss the hammerspace that is their inventory in this film.]
I will not let the last waking remnants of our people drown in the ocean. If he can be distracted, we have a chance... and he wants little more in the world than time at his disposal.
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