The Shape In The Shadows

RP Blog for Makuta Teridax (threads only, no asks)

[makuta-official]

Free Reign

Once, Roodaka of Xia, you were a creature of influence. At one time you were perhaps the most influential Vortixx alive, one who held both high stature on her home island, and had the ear of the Brotherhood of Makuta. Even their leader, the great Makuta Teridax, held her in esteem, and placed her as Viceroy of the mightiest Rahi horde the world had ever known. And yet it was one humiliation after another, wasn’t it? To be placed under that buffoon, Sidorak. To be defeated by Toa. Slapped around and imprisoned at every turn. And now, here you are, Roodaka. And so the question is begged... what shall we do with you now?

After all this time imprisoned by the Order of Mata Nui, it felt like an age since Roodaka had heard the voice of another. Which is why it took her a few moments to realise the words she just heard were not her own thoughts, but were spoken aloud. Spoken aloud by someone else. Someone in the cell with her.

                                                           ---

Roodaka woke abruptly. She glanced around, and realised that wherever she was, it was not her cell. Her body did not ache, but was still stiff from her long imprisonment, and so she did not rise immediately; instead, she took the time to look around the chamber she laid in, and try and deduce where she was. Clearly underground, with high ceilings, propped up by green crystal cylinders, and with a large pool of shimmering silver liquid. On the wall nearby, six niches contained what appeared to be Rahkshi spines, which she assumed to be trophies... until the Rahkshi within turned their heads to look at her. Rahkshi, in an underground lair, with all these trappings... Roodaka turned her head as quickly as she could and found her suspicions confirmed. There, cloaked in shadow, watching over her, was the one being she respected: Makuta. Roodaka, struggling to rise, stammered “M-my lord Makuta... you are alive! I am... glad to see you yet live, though I wish we could have met again under... ow... healthier circumstances...”

Makuta waved his hand, and a wave of numbness washed over Roodaka. “Be still,’ he whispered, and Roodaka sank back down into a sitting position. “Your condition was far from irreversible, but you are clearly still... stiff. I have had firsthand experience with being trapped for extended periods, so I am not surprised.” “But how did you find me?” Roodaka asked, incredulous. “The Order’s prisons are shielded! Impossible to find! I... I had long ago given up hope of any rescue...” Just then, a dull red light began to emanate from her chest, faint but still discernable from her heartlight. Makuta inclined his head. “Long ago, you carved a piece of protodermis from the Toa Seal Vakama and his comrades imprisoned me in... when that seal was shattered, that piece was lost to you. But tiny pieces remained embedded in your armour, just enough that a direct link remained between us, Roodaka. A link I could follow.  There is nowhere the Order could have hidden you that I could not find.”

 Roodaka was quiet for a moment, and said “Why... did you save me? It has been well over 1000 years since I have been in your service... I did not believe you required me any more.” Makuta observed her for a moment, and replied. “For 1000 years, there was nothing I required your unique skillset for... but I have need of you now.” He rose from his throne, and stood over Roodaka, offering her a hand. “Lead the Visorak Horde once more, Roodaka. Become the queen you always wished to be.” Roodaka, hesitantly, took his hand, and was gently raised to her feet. There, Makuta teleported them both outside, to a large valley filled with small caves. “The Visorak will accept your commands, though they will still ultimately answer to me... and I would advise against your ‘rule by fear’ that you tried before. This new batch of Visorak is a little more... willful than the last.” Makuta snapped his fingers, and sure enough, dozens of Visorak scuttled from hiding... and every last one was glaring at Roodaka.

“Roodaka is your queen now,” boomed Makuta, gesturing broadly to the assembled Visorak. “Pass the word to your brethren; where she leads, you will follow. Perhaps you have not forgiven her for past actions, but you all know what she is capable of. You know Roodaka will lead you to great victories, in time.” A murmur rippled through the spiders, of discontentment at first. But some of the creatures began to stamp their feet and hiss in triumph, a move matched slowly but sure by the remainder of the horde, until the air was filled with the dreadful sound of thousands of taloned legs on the march, and a discordant, screeching howl. A sign of things to come.

[makuta-official]

What's Missing?

A tinny, clattering rhythm echoed through the halls of Mangaia. One of the Rahkshi, Vorahk, stirred from its slumber to peer about, searching for the source of the sound. It found it in Makuta, who sat over a workbench, staring absently at something in his hand, fingers drumming that metallic rhythm against his mask. Vorahk unfurled from its niche in the wall, careful not to disturb its brethren, and crept away to see what troubled their master so.

Makuta broke from his reverie at a gentle nudge against his arm; he inclined his head to see Vorahk, staring at him, head cocked to the side. "Ah, my son... what wakes you? Were you concerned for me?" He reached out and laid his hand atop the Rahkshi's head; now Vorahk's gaze had turned to the half-finished Kanohi in his hand. Although it was incomplete, through the misshapen protodermis could be seen the features of a Kanohi Rau.

"Something is missing, my son," mused Makuta aloud. When Vorahk dutifully pushed a lump of protodermis towards his master, Makuta chuckled. "No, not the mask. I mean with me. With what I've been doing. Flitting about from place to place, seeking out old allies and enemies alike, trying to form some kind of purpose for myself. But I feel... adrift. Aimless. Since the day I crawled from the antidermis, I've always possessed a strong sense of what to do with myself, but ever since I clawed my way from the depths of the destroyed universe, I've been purposeless. And I do NOT like that."

"At best, for now, I suppose the best thing to do is to keep gathering allies... continue to consolidate power, in the shadows of this new world," Makuta murmured, turning over the Rau in his hand, noting a hairline fracture that needed to be corrected. Mask-making was a art he had yet to master. "But where shall I go next? Mutran is the only one of my brothers and sisters left... my Visorak still have yet to track down Roodaka... and the Shadowed One may be neutral to me now, but that does not make him a loyal Rahi beast at my beck and call. Hmmm... perhaps..." Makuta's attention drifted back to the Rau in his hand, and he chuckled. "It's funny, Vorahk. Despite the fact that his services, at this point, would be of no real help to me, I can't help but think of Ahkmou. Why, I don't know... well, Ahkmou, if you ARE still alive, enjoy your destiny. It belongs to you now... unless we do cross paths again."

Movement caught Makuta's eye. The other Rahkshi were awake, and now crowded around him, listening intently to their master's troubled thoughts. The sight of Kurahk and Lerahk, who rested their heads on Makuta's left arm, made a new thought worm its way into Makuta's mind. "'Their unity... can be poisoned,'" he murmured, recalling what seemed, now, a lifetime ago. "Divide and conquer, yes... turn those willing to my side, and crush the rest underfoot. But it must not be through poison, or infected Kanohi, or any other means of bending them to my will. No... no, their loyalty must be won, not taken. The Shadow Tribe will be a good start, but a more substantial figure would suit my purposes. But who...?" Makuta's eyes widened, then narrowed cruelly; if his mask possessed a mouth it would surely be twisted with evil mirth. "Yes... that will do. That will do just fine... but not yet. No, as always, I must be patient. All in good time, my sons..." Makuta's fist tightened, crushing the Kanohi in his grip into scrap. "All in good time..."

---

"...Wait. I needed that."

[ask-toa-hahli]

makuta-official​:

Emboldened, the Boggarak responded in kind and clambered to the ground, where it began thoroughly examining the juvenile, looking it all over and cleaning it with its pincers. As it did so, it was struck with a realisation: the overpowering stench of Matoran was not simply coming from the settlement. Though not enough to blot out its unique smell, the little Visorak was covered in it.

As it continued grooming the wayward juvenile, the Boggarak pondered how this could have happened. With a lack of visible injuries or distress it was odd that the stench of Matoran clung to the child so strongly. That, logically, would mean that the Matoran, rather than mistreating it, were familiar with it… like a pet. Which meant it hadn’t ‘escaped’, but rather, it had wandered off.

Which meant they would come looking for it.

Sure enough, the Boggarak could hear the voices of Matoran approaching, calling out. It trilled in alarm, then tried to usher the juvenile under its body, attempting to coax it to flee with it. Nearby it could hear its packmates approaching, drawn by its alarmed vocalisations.

The young Visorak was confused with what the other spider was doing with it’s pincers, but it felt nice and soothing so she let them continue. Iara even let out a contented purr as she became more at ease with the process. However, that peacefulness was quickly broken, as she heard the echoing voices of her sitters calling her name.

Those calls brought Iara back to her present situation and reminded her the entire reason she was out to begin with. Find mother. If the girls found her they’d surely take her home and she couldn’t go home yet. Not while mother was still somewhere out there and in danger.

She looked up at the big spider, surprised to see it suddenly look alarmed for some reason. There wasn’t anything threatening nearby from what she could tell. They suddenly kept trying to usher her to go with them, which the little one couldn’t understand the reasoning for. The large spider hadn’t done anything to harm her though yet and they did seem nice so far. Maybe they’ll help her track down mother?

Iara clicked her pincers together and chirped, she started to scurrying towards the other Visorak-

Carried by the beach wind, a familiar comforting scent was suddenly caught by the hordeling, coming from the direction of the calling Matoran. It halted her motion.

Mother… The young Boggarak turned around with a hop. Mother! With happy mews, she hurried off towards to the Matoran.

[makuta-official]

The Boggarak shrieked in alarm and tried to dash after the child, its two packmates following behind. They began rearing up and howling as a display of force, but the Matoran refused to back down. Incensed, the Visorak began charging their Rhotuka, whirling discs of energy accumulating and crackling on their backs.

Just as they were about to fire, however, the Boggarak felt a powerful urge to stop. The Rhotuka dissipated with a pop, and on either side, the other Visorak dissipated theirs as well. It had seen that the juvenile was still in their firing line, and so that was they stopped… wasn’t it? Visorak were normally deadly accurate, so… they were afraid of the foolish Matoran somehow moving the juvenile into harm’s way, surely. That would explain it.

The Boggarak glared at the Matoran, viciously gnashing its pincers, preparing to charge… but again, it felt that strange compulsion to stop, an itch at the back of its mind. Again it reasoned as to why: the Matoran could just as easily harm the juvenile in close quarters, or worse yet, harm it deliberately to ward off the Visorak. The Boggarak gave a last, defiant hiss, before turning and motioning for its brethren to follow. With one last glance back at the little spider, it vanished into the brush.

[ask-toa-hahli]

Iara ran on the open beach, following the scent, yet as she got closer to the smell she still didn’t see her mother in sight. It instead led her to a large soft cloth placed in the sand. The young Visorak slowed her pace down as she came over to the item and pawed at it, examining it with her pincers. It then became apparent that this was merely the blanket off of her and mother’s bed. Why was this here?

“Gotcha!”

Before Iara could even wonder what was going on, the little Boggarak was quickly scooped up from behind.

“See, told you it would work!” Kotu declared triumphantly, with an added inflection of an I told you so, as she held the struggling small Visorak in her arms.

“I never said it wouldn’t work,” Macku replied tirelessly as she trotted over. Still her features looked relieved now that Hahli’s pet was back in hand.

The aforementioned spider in question kept squirming, letting out a low growl and several other disgruntled sounds. She didn’t appreciate the trick that was pulled on her.

“Sorry, little one. No wondering off, you got to stay with us for now.” Macku said as she reached over to give the Boggarak several pats on the head. “It’s too dangerous for you to be on your own out here. Don’t worry, Hahli’s going to be back. Plus you know you always have fun with us.”

Iara gave another dissatisfied whine, as Kotu hugged and tried to soothe her. After Macku picked up the blanket, the two Ga-matoran headed back to the village.

“So,” Kotu started as they got back onto the floating walkways. “How are you going to explain the sandy blanket to Hahli?”

“Shasa can wash it before she gets backs.” Macku replied before sending a look to her friend. “Besides, why would I have to explain it to her, using the blanket was your idea.”

“Well, then we’ll have to explain why we had to use it won’t we?” Kotu teased.

Macku wasn’t quite as amused. “Not a single word to Hahli.” She said firmly.

[makuta-official]

Some ways away, the Boggarak felt her thoughts return to the juvenile; it was an unusually introspective day, it seemed. Mostly it was because of the disappointment she felt at their inability to save the child, but it seemed more than happy to return to its Matoran captors. The effects of domestication, the Boggarak supposed.

It was too bad, really. She had had a brood once, not so long ago, but she had lost them during an upheaval, a commotion of some sort kicked off by the other Rahi in the region, or something like that. She had looked high and low for her children, and though she found most of them too late, one was missing. Given the presence of Rahi hawks in the area, which so delighted in devouring infant Visorak, it was almost certain that her entire brood had been lost to her. It was almost funny, really... if she didn't know any better, the Boggarak would have thought that juvenile was her very own child. She thought on it for a while longer, but wistfulness is not the way of the Visorak, and as she moved off with her pack to hunt for their dinner, she put it out of her mind altogether.

---

As the Ga-Matoran departed with their indignant prize, another spider observed them as they went. Indeed, it had been observing the entire altercation. To the casual observer, it would seem to be simply watching to ensure that the aggressive parties didn't come its way, typical behaviour for a Fikou. But this spider continued watching after the quarrel had subsided, with what could only be interpreted as interest. And were our casual observer to peer closer at this Fikou, they would notice the pitted, rusting, miniature Kanohi mask affixed to its body.

If they saw that, perhaps our casual observer would think twice about the normality of this particular Fikou, and how it had been so fixed upon the Visorak until they backed away from their assault... and how seemingly interested it was in little Iara, even as she was being frustratedly carried off by her babysitters. The Fikou sat there for a moment longer, apparently considering what it had seen, before turning and carrying itself and its odd little Kanohi further up into the tree, disappearing into the shadows.

[ask-toa-hahli]

makuta-official​:

Emboldened, the Boggarak responded in kind and clambered to the ground, where it began thoroughly examining the juvenile, looking it all over and cleaning it with its pincers. As it did so, it was struck with a realisation: the overpowering stench of Matoran was not simply coming from the settlement. Though not enough to blot out its unique smell, the little Visorak was covered in it.

As it continued grooming the wayward juvenile, the Boggarak pondered how this could have happened. With a lack of visible injuries or distress it was odd that the stench of Matoran clung to the child so strongly. That, logically, would mean that the Matoran, rather than mistreating it, were familiar with it… like a pet. Which meant it hadn’t ‘escaped’, but rather, it had wandered off.

Which meant they would come looking for it.

Sure enough, the Boggarak could hear the voices of Matoran approaching, calling out. It trilled in alarm, then tried to usher the juvenile under its body, attempting to coax it to flee with it. Nearby it could hear its packmates approaching, drawn by its alarmed vocalisations.

The young Visorak was confused with what the other spider was doing with it’s pincers, but it felt nice and soothing so she let them continue. Iara even let out a contented purr as she became more at ease with the process. However, that peacefulness was quickly broken, as she heard the echoing voices of her sitters calling her name.

Those calls brought Iara back to her present situation and reminded her the entire reason she was out to begin with. Find mother. If the girls found her they’d surely take her home and she couldn’t go home yet. Not while mother was still somewhere out there and in danger.

She looked up at the big spider, surprised to see it suddenly look alarmed for some reason. There wasn’t anything threatening nearby from what she could tell. They suddenly kept trying to usher her to go with them, which the little one couldn’t understand the reasoning for. The large spider hadn’t done anything to harm her though yet and they did seem nice so far. Maybe they’ll help her track down mother?

Iara clicked her pincers together and chirped, she started to scurrying towards the other Visorak-

Carried by the beach wind, a familiar comforting scent was suddenly caught by the hordeling, coming from the direction of the calling Matoran. It halted her motion.

Mother… The young Boggarak turned around with a hop. Mother! With happy mews, she hurried off towards to the Matoran.

[makuta-official]

The Boggarak shrieked in alarm and tried to dash after the child, its two packmates following behind. They began rearing up and howling as a display of force, but the Matoran refused to back down. Incensed, the Visorak began charging their Rhotuka, whirling discs of energy accumulating and crackling on their backs.

Just as they were about to fire, however, the Boggarak felt a powerful urge to stop. The Rhotuka dissipated with a pop, and on either side, the other Visorak dissipated theirs as well. It had seen that the juvenile was still in their firing line, and so that was they stopped... wasn't it? Visorak were normally deadly accurate, so... they were afraid of the foolish Matoran somehow moving the juvenile into harm's way, surely. That would explain it.

The Boggarak glared at the Matoran, viciously gnashing its pincers, preparing to charge... but again, it felt that strange compulsion to stop, an itch at the back of its mind. Again it reasoned as to why: the Matoran could just as easily harm the juvenile in close quarters, or worse yet, harm it deliberately to ward off the Visorak. The Boggarak gave a last, defiant hiss, before turning and motioning for its brethren to follow. With one last glance back at the little spider, it vanished into the brush.

[makuta-official]

The Child

Life had been interesting for the Visorak as of late. Being utterly destroyed by a volcanic eruption, resurrected by Makuta, only for him to perish, and for them to be cast into the wastes to fend for themselves. Then Makuta seemingly resurfaced, no less than three times; the first smelled wrong, like he came from somewhere else, somewhere alien, and he was so bright and shiny and utterly distasteful. The second smelled right, but seemed to have gone somewhat mad, and so the Visorak capitulated for their safety, but tried to spend as little time around him as possible. Then, much later, a third appeared. This one smelled right, looked right, acted right, so the Visorak began following him instead. The Visorak are nothing if not master opportunists, and here was a golden opportunity to reoorganise the horde and regain their grip on the ecosystem. This Makuta (the rumours of the original’s death, it seemed, were premature, though Visorak cared little for details like this) was certainly kinder than he had been in the past, by some small measures, anyway; rather than ordering them on the offensive, he told them to simply keep surviving as they had been, keep building their numbers, and to stay safe so they could serve him in the future. The Visorak were more than happy to comply. The balance of the universe, it seemed, was finally reasserting itself.

Such introspective thoughts were promptly swept from the mind of a wandering Boggarak as it caught upon a familiar scent: a juvenile Visorak. A juvenile Visorak all on its own, it realised with a start. This simply would not do. The Boggarak set off as fast as it could in the direction of the scent; as it drew closer, it caught other smells. Threatening smells. As it crested a rise it realised that wherever the juvenile was, it was smack in the middle of a Matoran settlement. The Boggarak promptly burrowed into a nearby bush, peering out, attempting to catch a glimpse of the wayward child.

[ask-toa-hahli]

“Oh, Karzahni. Where did she go? I only put her down for a second!”

“How could you loose her that easily?”

“Well maybe if you haven’t distracted me-”

“Both of you, calm down. She couldn’t have gotten far or out of the village. Let’s check the fishing dock first, she probably smelled a fresh catch or something.”

While the Matoran were scrabbling off; somewhere on the floating walkways, Iara was scuttling along the shaded route in the opposite direction of her abandoned sitters, heading towards the entryway.

The little Visorak was on a mission. Previously before, the thought of being out of the sight and presence of her caregiver would have brought the little one to distress. But ever since her first molt and that fight against the big red monster, Iara had been feeling braver and bolder. The knowledge that she could defend her own mother gave some her confidence, her bigher, sharper fangs made her feel more secure… even if mother acted weird around them.

Now mother had gone off to somewhere dangerous, it was clear to Iara that she needed to find and protect her.

Crawling off the ramp leading down to sandy beach, the spider soon approached the Ga-Koro gates. Staying in the shadow of a stone pillar which bared the location name carved in, she looked around, unsure of where exactly to go next. The choices were starting to overwhelm the little one, when a sudden sound nearly caused her to jump.

A tiny Amphibian hopped beside the Visorak. It stopped and croaked again before continuing to hop by.

Little creature? It took a moment to register with the spider. Little creature! Her quest was quickly forgotten with a new excitement. She then promptly chased after her new unwitting ‘playmate’, attempting to catch them. Leading her away from the village…

[makuta-official]

There. A tiny flash of blue in and out of the light and the Boggarak located its quarry. The juvenile was no newborn, as could clearly be seen, and was at least capable of foraging for itself; it was clearly in pursuit of a small Rahi, and the Boggarak watched intently, curious to see how the little one had been faring. It did seem odd, however, that the little Visorak had survived as long as it had. The signs of having passed first molt were visible, that much was true, but no Matoran in their right mind would tolerate the presence of such a creature, no matter how young, for long. Obviously, the Boggarak concluded, this juvenile was a burgeoning master of stealth, of hiding amongst the enemy, a trait that would serve Makuta well.

Its mind firmly made up, the Boggarak crept forth from its hiding place. Quickly scaling a tree, it positioned itself so that it would be hidden from the nearby settlement, but plainly visible to the little Visorak. Then, cautiously, it issued a quiet trill to catch the little one’s attention.

[ask-toa-hahli]

The tiny amphibian hopped away again just in time as the young hoardling tried to pounce on it. They had been keeping up this pattern for while now, as Iara kept up her pursuit, by now nearly closer to the treeline farther up the beach. Change in her surroundings was hardly even noticed by the young one, her attention focused on their ‘game’.

Under the shadow of one tree, Iara had caught up to the Rahi again. She laid low and attempted another pounce. This time however, instead of jumping out of the way, the small creature quickly buried itself down into the sand out of sight. The young Visorak landed on empty space once again. She got up and tried to dig a little in the spot were it disappeared. At finding nothing, she gave a disparaging whine; the creature wasn’t playing fair.

There was a new sound just then. One that was close and that the hoardling couldn’t recognize off hand, but it came from above. Iara looked up, there was a large shape overhead of her on the tree, the sudden sight startled her. On immediate instinct, she jumped back and gave a warning hiss.

[makuta-official]

The Boggarak moved further out onto the tree’s trunk, partially bathing itself in sunlight to give the juvenile a better look, to see that it was the same species, to see it was a friend. The tiny creature was uninjured, it seemed, which meant its efforts to stay hidden within the Matoran settlement had been successful. But still, the Boggarak wondered, why hadn’t it tried to escape earlier? If it had been injured, that would have made sense, but the juvenile seemed to be in perfect health. Perhaps, then, for whatever reason, the Matoran in the village had been keeping it captive, and it was only now that it had been able to break free; if that was the case, that would explain its efforts to capture that amphibian. The little Visorak must be starving after its captivity. So the Boggarak descended further, issuing another trill, now with a tinge of concern in its voice.

[ask-toa-hahli]

Iara stayed still as the large creature came into better view, her instincts unsure if she should stand her grand or flee. She could see now that it was a spider, much like her and Kee, but unlike them this one was bigger. Much bigger. This both confused and and intrigued the young one, she didn’t know any spiders that huge. There was also something vaguely familiar about the size and shape of this figure, but it felt difficult to recall, trying to think back only filled her head with fog and blurry things… along with small flashes of gleams that looked like crystal…

That particular association in her mind made the hoardling feel a particular nervousness with this encounter that she had not gone through in while. Though the other spider hadn’t attacked yet and it was expressing a non-threatening sound to her. Plus it was blue, she knew anything blue should be safe to her. So maybe it wasn’t dangerous?

Tentatively, she responded with a cautious chirp.

[makuta-official]

Emboldened, the Boggarak responded in kind and clambered to the ground, where it began thoroughly examining the juvenile, looking it all over and cleaning it with its pincers. As it did so, it was struck with a realisation: the overpowering stench of Matoran was not simply coming from the settlement. Though not enough to blot out its unique smell, the little Visorak was covered in it.

As it continued grooming the wayward juvenile, the Boggarak pondered how this could have happened. With a lack of visible injuries or distress it was odd that the stench of Matoran clung to the child so strongly. That, logically, would mean that the Matoran, rather than mistreating it, were familiar with it... like a pet. Which meant it hadn't 'escaped', but rather, it had wandered off.

Which meant they would come looking for it.

Sure enough, the Boggarak could hear the voices of Matoran approaching, calling out. It trilled in alarm, then tried to usher the juvenile under its body, attempting to coax it to flee with it. Nearby it could hear its packmates approaching, drawn by its alarmed vocalisations.

[makuta-official]

The Child

Life had been interesting for the Visorak as of late. Being utterly destroyed by a volcanic eruption, resurrected by Makuta, only for him to perish, and for them to be cast into the wastes to fend for themselves. Then Makuta seemingly resurfaced, no less than three times; the first smelled wrong, like he came from somewhere else, somewhere alien, and he was so bright and shiny and utterly distasteful. The second smelled right, but seemed to have gone somewhat mad, and so the Visorak capitulated for their safety, but tried to spend as little time around him as possible. Then, much later, a third appeared. This one smelled right, looked right, acted right, so the Visorak began following him instead. The Visorak are nothing if not master opportunists, and here was a golden opportunity to reoorganise the horde and regain their grip on the ecosystem. This Makuta (the rumours of the original’s death, it seemed, were premature, though Visorak cared little for details like this) was certainly kinder than he had been in the past, by some small measures, anyway; rather than ordering them on the offensive, he told them to simply keep surviving as they had been, keep building their numbers, and to stay safe so they could serve him in the future. The Visorak were more than happy to comply. The balance of the universe, it seemed, was finally reasserting itself.

Such introspective thoughts were promptly swept from the mind of a wandering Boggarak as it caught upon a familiar scent: a juvenile Visorak. A juvenile Visorak all on its own, it realised with a start. This simply would not do. The Boggarak set off as fast as it could in the direction of the scent; as it drew closer, it caught other smells. Threatening smells. As it crested a rise it realised that wherever the juvenile was, it was smack in the middle of a Matoran settlement. The Boggarak promptly burrowed into a nearby bush, peering out, attempting to catch a glimpse of the wayward child.

[ask-toa-hahli]

“Oh, Karzahni. Where did she go? I only put her down for a second!”

“How could you loose her that easily?”

“Well maybe if you haven’t distracted me-”

“Both of you, calm down. She couldn’t have gotten far or out of the village. Let’s check the fishing dock first, she probably smelled a fresh catch or something.”

While the Matoran were scrabbling off; somewhere on the floating walkways, Iara was scuttling along the shaded route in the opposite direction of her abandoned sitters, heading towards the entryway.

The little Visorak was on a mission. Previously before, the thought of being out of the sight and presence of her caregiver would have brought the little one to distress. But ever since her first molt and that fight against the big red monster, Iara had been feeling braver and bolder. The knowledge that she could defend her own mother gave some her confidence, her bigher, sharper fangs made her feel more secure… even if mother acted weird around them.

Now mother had gone off to somewhere dangerous, it was clear to Iara that she needed to find and protect her.

Crawling off the ramp leading down to sandy beach, the spider soon approached the Ga-Koro gates. Staying in the shadow of a stone pillar which bared the location name carved in, she looked around, unsure of where exactly to go next. The choices were starting to overwhelm the little one, when a sudden sound nearly caused her to jump.

A tiny Amphibian hopped beside the Visorak. It stopped and croaked again before continuing to hop by.

Little creature? It took a moment to register with the spider. Little creature! Her quest was quickly forgotten with a new excitement. She then promptly chased after her new unwitting ‘playmate’, attempting to catch them. Leading her away from the village…

[makuta-official]

There. A tiny flash of blue in and out of the light and the Boggarak located its quarry. The juvenile was no newborn, as could clearly be seen, and was at least capable of foraging for itself; it was clearly in pursuit of a small Rahi, and the Boggarak watched intently, curious to see how the little one had been faring. It did seem odd, however, that the little Visorak had survived as long as it had. The signs of having passed first molt were visible, that much was true, but no Matoran in their right mind would tolerate the presence of such a creature, no matter how young, for long. Obviously, the Boggarak concluded, this juvenile was a burgeoning master of stealth, of hiding amongst the enemy, a trait that would serve Makuta well.

Its mind firmly made up, the Boggarak crept forth from its hiding place. Quickly scaling a tree, it positioned itself so that it would be hidden from the nearby settlement, but plainly visible to the little Visorak. Then, cautiously, it issued a quiet trill to catch the little one’s attention.

[ask-toa-hahli]

The tiny amphibian hopped away again just in time as the young hoardling tried to pounce on it. They had been keeping up this pattern for while now, as Iara kept up her pursuit, by now nearly closer to the treeline farther up the beach. Change in her surroundings was hardly even noticed by the young one, her attention focused on their ‘game’.

Under the shadow of one tree, Iara had caught up to the Rahi again. She laid low and attempted another pounce. This time however, instead of jumping out of the way, the small creature quickly buried itself down into the sand out of sight. The young Visorak landed on empty space once again. She got up and tried to dig a little in the spot were it disappeared. At finding nothing, she gave a disparaging whine; the creature wasn’t playing fair.

There was a new sound just then. One that was close and that the hoardling couldn’t recognize off hand, but it came from above. Iara looked up, there was a large shape overhead of her on the tree, the sudden sight startled her. On immediate instinct, she jumped back and gave a warning hiss.

[makuta-official]

The Boggarak moved further out onto the tree’s trunk, partially bathing itself in sunlight to give the juvenile a better look, to see that it was the same species, to see it was a friend. The tiny creature was uninjured, it seemed, which meant its efforts to stay hidden within the Matoran settlement had been successful. But still, the Boggarak wondered, why hadn’t it tried to escape earlier? If it had been injured, that would have made sense, but the juvenile seemed to be in perfect health. Perhaps, then, for whatever reason, the Matoran in the village had been keeping it captive, and it was only now that it had been able to break free; if that was the case, that would explain its efforts to capture that amphibian. The little Visorak must be starving after its captivity. So the Boggarak descended further, issuing another trill, now with a tinge of concern in its voice.

[makuta-official]

The Child

Life had been interesting for the Visorak as of late. Being utterly destroyed by a volcanic eruption, resurrected by Makuta, only for him to perish, and for them to be cast into the wastes to fend for themselves. Then Makuta seemingly resurfaced, no less than three times; the first smelled wrong, like he came from somewhere else, somewhere alien, and he was so bright and shiny and utterly distasteful. The second smelled right, but seemed to have gone somewhat mad, and so the Visorak capitulated for their safety, but tried to spend as little time around him as possible. Then, much later, a third appeared. This one smelled right, looked right, acted right, so the Visorak began following him instead. The Visorak are nothing if not master opportunists, and here was a golden opportunity to reoorganise the horde and regain their grip on the ecosystem. This Makuta (the rumours of the original’s death, it seemed, were premature, though Visorak cared little for details like this) was certainly kinder than he had been in the past, by some small measures, anyway; rather than ordering them on the offensive, he told them to simply keep surviving as they had been, keep building their numbers, and to stay safe so they could serve him in the future. The Visorak were more than happy to comply. The balance of the universe, it seemed, was finally reasserting itself.

Such introspective thoughts were promptly swept from the mind of a wandering Boggarak as it caught upon a familiar scent: a juvenile Visorak. A juvenile Visorak all on its own, it realised with a start. This simply would not do. The Boggarak set off as fast as it could in the direction of the scent; as it drew closer, it caught other smells. Threatening smells. As it crested a rise it realised that wherever the juvenile was, it was smack in the middle of a Matoran settlement. The Boggarak promptly burrowed into a nearby bush, peering out, attempting to catch a glimpse of the wayward child.

[ask-toa-hahli]

“Oh, Karzahni. Where did she go? I only put her down for a second!”

“How could you loose her that easily?”

“Well maybe if you haven’t distracted me-”

“Both of you, calm down. She couldn’t have gotten far or out of the village. Let’s check the fishing dock first, she probably smelled a fresh catch or something.”

While the Matoran were scrabbling off; somewhere on the floating walkways, Iara was scuttling along the shaded route in the opposite direction of her abandoned sitters, heading towards the entryway.

The little Visorak was on a mission. Previously before, the thought of being out of the sight and presence of her caregiver would have brought the little one to distress. But ever since her first molt and that fight against the big red monster, Iara had been feeling braver and bolder. The knowledge that she could defend her own mother gave some her confidence, her bigher, sharper fangs made her feel more secure… even if mother acted weird around them.

Now mother had gone off to somewhere dangerous, it was clear to Iara that she needed to find and protect her.

Crawling off the ramp leading down to sandy beach, the spider soon approached the Ga-Koro gates. Staying in the shadow of a stone pillar which bared the location name carved in, she looked around, unsure of where exactly to go next. The choices were starting to overwhelm the little one, when a sudden sound nearly caused her to jump.

A tiny Amphibian hopped beside the Visorak. It stopped and croaked again before continuing to hop by.

Little creature? It took a moment to register with the spider. Little creature! Her quest was quickly forgotten with a new excitement. She then promptly chased after her new unwitting ‘playmate’, attempting to catch them. Leading her away from the village…

[makuta-official]

There. A tiny flash of blue in and out of the light and the Boggarak located its quarry. The juvenile was no newborn, as could clearly be seen, and was at least capable of foraging for itself; it was clearly in pursuit of a small Rahi, and the Boggarak watched intently, curious to see how the little one had been faring. It did seem odd, however, that the little Visorak had survived as long as it had. The signs of having passed first molt were visible, that much was true, but no Matoran in their right mind would tolerate the presence of such a creature, no matter how young, for long. Obviously, the Boggarak concluded, this juvenile was a burgeoning master of stealth, of hiding amongst the enemy, a trait that would serve Makuta well.

Its mind firmly made up, the Boggarak crept forth from its hiding place. Quickly scaling a tree, it positioned itself so that it would be hidden from the nearby settlement, but plainly visible to the little Visorak. Then, cautiously, it issued a quiet trill to catch the little one’s attention.

[makuta-official]

The Child

Life had been interesting for the Visorak as of late. Being utterly destroyed by a volcanic eruption, resurrected by Makuta, only for him to perish, and for them to be cast into the wastes to fend for themselves. Then Makuta seemingly resurfaced, no less than three times; the first smelled wrong, like he came from somewhere else, somewhere alien, and he was so bright and shiny and utterly distasteful. The second smelled right, but seemed to have gone somewhat mad, and so the Visorak capitulated for their safety, but tried to spend as little time around him as possible. Then, much later, a third appeared. This one smelled right, looked right, acted right, so the Visorak began following him instead. The Visorak are nothing if not master opportunists, and here was a golden opportunity to reoorganise the horde and regain their grip on the ecosystem. This Makuta (the rumours of the original's death, it seemed, were premature, though Visorak cared little for details like this) was certainly kinder than he had been in the past, by some small measures, anyway; rather than ordering them on the offensive, he told them to simply keep surviving as they had been, keep building their numbers, and to stay safe so they could serve him in the future. The Visorak were more than happy to comply. The balance of the universe, it seemed, was finally reasserting itself.

Such introspective thoughts were promptly swept from the mind of a wandering Boggarak as it caught upon a familiar scent: a juvenile Visorak. A juvenile Visorak all on its own, it realised with a start. This simply would not do. The Boggarak set off as fast as it could in the direction of the scent; as it drew closer, it caught other smells. Threatening smells. As it crested a rise it realised that wherever the juvenile was, it was smack in the middle of a Matoran settlement. The Boggarak promptly burrowed into a nearby bush, peering out, attempting to catch a glimpse of the wayward child.

[dark-hunters-inc]

Father-Son Bonding

makuta-official​:

When the murk cleared, and Kraata-Kal had vanished from sight, Makuta became tangible again. He sighed, rubbing his fingers into the bridge of his mask; despite his best efforts, his old arrogance had flared up at the worst possible moment, and led him to say the wrong thing… or, perhaps, too much of the right thing. Either way, this was going to take some serious work to smooth over. Kraata-Kal was no longer simply bitter, he was angry, and that was not something Makuta could deal with easily. 

…But he had to try.

—

Finding Kraata-Kal again was easy, since Makuta could sense him. He approached slowly, quietly; Kraata-Kal would certainly know he was there, but there was every possibility that he would simply lash out again when Makuta got close. So Makuta took just one step closer, and called out. “Will you let me fix your arm? If you choose to leave afterwards, so be it… but it would be a waste to let you drown down here, after all that.”

Kraata-Kal hovered in the water, shadowy currents swirling around him. “A waste?” he scoffed. “Maybe that’s just what I want. One last chance to deny you.”

[makuta-official]

“I don’t doubt that,” replied Makuta, gently, albeit with some difficulty. “But I think you would regret it, at the end of the day… and I would regret it. And you know my feelings on regret. So I’ll ask again… will you…” Makuta screwed his eyes shut for a moment, as if in extreme discomfort, before opening them again, now looking just a little bit exasperated, but no less concerned. “…will you please let me fix your arm?”

[dark-hunters-inc]

Kraata-Kal looked long and hard at Makuta. His words were unfamiliar, and his Rahkshi instincts told him to distrust this strange behavior. But looking closer, Kraata-Kal could tell that Makuta was as uncomfortable with these words as he. Lies issued from his mask as easily as shadows fled the light, but this speech had clearly taken effort.

Wings fluttering through the water, Kraata-Kal gently descended to the seafloor. Silt plumed around his feet as he clasped his waterlogged arm, then lifted it, holding it out towards Makuta.

“Just…” He turned his head away. “Just make it quick. Before I change my mind.”

[makuta-official]

Gingerly accepting the offered limb, Makuta began examining it to find the essential damage. While finding the offending breach was simple enough (the bubbles streaming out were a dead giveaway), he kept finding himself distracted by other damage Kraata-Kal had taken over the years. Clearly the cretin the Shadowed One had assigned to repair Kraata-Kal in the past was either unable to properly reverse-engineer the magnificent design, or simply had the intellect of a Brakas; Kraata-Kal’s armour was littered with evidence of patch jobs, many poorly done. It was a miracle the suit hadn’t fallen apart centuries ago. This had to stop.

“I have a new proposition for you,” Makuta said quietly, as not to disrupt his focus; careful application of Vacuum had drained the water from Kraata-Kal’s suit, and now his powers over Plasma were gently welding the breaches closed. “Free passage to come and go from my lair in Mangaia as you please, provided you do not steal anything, and free reign over the feral Rahkshi loose on this planet. I realise you were already trying to lead them, but you will no longer be hindered by their fealty to me. And to sweeten the deal a little further,” Makuta paused as he wrenched a fragment of coral from an essential joint. “I will also grant you a provisional position as Viceroy of the Visorak hordes, at least until I am able to locate Roodaka, or a… suitable replacement.”

“All I ask in return is that you do not inform The Shadowed One of Mangaia’s whereabouts, and that you stop by at least once so I can remedy the primitive repairs inflicted upon the rest of your armour.”

Makuta paused in his handiwork to look up at Kraata-Kal.

“What do you say?”

[dark-hunters-inc]

Kraata-Kal sneered. “You can keep your viceroy position. I won’t be a benchwarmer for anyone, least of all for Roodaka and those disgusting spiders. As for your other offer…”

He turned his head to regard Makuta coolly. “You’re not giving me the Rahkshi,” he declared. “They are not yours to give; I have already won dominance. No, you’re just… backing off.” He settled on the words carefully, as if scripting a press release. “If I choose to visit, it will be of my own volition - not out of any duty to you.”

As Makuta welded one of the deepest punctures in Kraata-Kal’s armor, he felt the mechanisms click back into place and sighed in relief. “Oh, do this spot next. It’s been pestering me ever since that oaf Vezok got funny ideas.”

[makuta-official]

Makuta side-eyed Kraata-Kal, but said nothing; he simply chuckled and obliged the request. “Of course,” he said after a moment. “That’s about the response I expected, to be quite honest. But still…” He found the problem Kraata-Kal spoke of; somehow a blow from Vezok had warped an armour panel just enough that its edge snagged a vital piston, thus stiffening the entire limb’s movement. As he carefully pulled it back to free the impeded component, Makuta continued. “Regardless, I hope you understand that, even if I overstepped, I was entirely sincere in what I said to you earlier. I do wish for you to stand with me once more… very specifically by my side, not under my heel. No matter what you choose to do from here on out, that will not change, Kraata-Kal.”

Makuta stood, brushing coral fragments from his limbs. “There. That should hold just fine, and free up your movement some, but I cannot do more without proper equipment, or I risk damaging you further. Now, I am going to continue on to collect what I came for, and return home. Will you join me?”

[dark-hunters-inc]

“Sincerity, from a Makuta?” Kraata-Kal chuckled. “I believe in actions, not words. You’ll have to prove what you say.”

He tested his limbs, feeling them move smoothly and powerfully through the water. “Magnificent. Really, when a prime specimen like this exists, why would you bother looking for a piece of junk buried in the ocean?” He splayed his helm and laughed. “I’ve wondered for years what horrible shape you had to fit yourself into in the Pit. I wouldn’t dream of turning back now.”

Kraata-Kal gestured to the murky depths. “Lead on, then, so you can collect your worthless prize.”

[makuta-official]

"And prove it I shall," replied Makuta. He clapped his hand down onto Kraata-Kal's shoulder, then began marching off into the gloom before the mutant Rahkshi had a chance to get indignant. "Come along then; I expect the Maxilos robot to be in even worse shape than the last time I saw it, so I want to have as much time to repair it as possible. Reparations take time, after all..." Makuta glanced back over his shoulder at Kraata-Kal, who floated along behind him. "...But with care and time spent, it's always worth fixing in the end."

---

[dark-hunters-inc]

Father-Son Bonding

makuta-official​:

When the murk cleared, and Kraata-Kal had vanished from sight, Makuta became tangible again. He sighed, rubbing his fingers into the bridge of his mask; despite his best efforts, his old arrogance had flared up at the worst possible moment, and led him to say the wrong thing… or, perhaps, too much of the right thing. Either way, this was going to take some serious work to smooth over. Kraata-Kal was no longer simply bitter, he was angry, and that was not something Makuta could deal with easily. 

…But he had to try.

—

Finding Kraata-Kal again was easy, since Makuta could sense him. He approached slowly, quietly; Kraata-Kal would certainly know he was there, but there was every possibility that he would simply lash out again when Makuta got close. So Makuta took just one step closer, and called out. “Will you let me fix your arm? If you choose to leave afterwards, so be it… but it would be a waste to let you drown down here, after all that.”

Kraata-Kal hovered in the water, shadowy currents swirling around him. “A waste?” he scoffed. “Maybe that’s just what I want. One last chance to deny you.”

[makuta-official]

“I don’t doubt that,” replied Makuta, gently, albeit with some difficulty. “But I think you would regret it, at the end of the day… and I would regret it. And you know my feelings on regret. So I’ll ask again… will you…” Makuta screwed his eyes shut for a moment, as if in extreme discomfort, before opening them again, now looking just a little bit exasperated, but no less concerned. “…will you please let me fix your arm?”

[dark-hunters-inc]

Kraata-Kal looked long and hard at Makuta. His words were unfamiliar, and his Rahkshi instincts told him to distrust this strange behavior. But looking closer, Kraata-Kal could tell that Makuta was as uncomfortable with these words as he. Lies issued from his mask as easily as shadows fled the light, but this speech had clearly taken effort.

Wings fluttering through the water, Kraata-Kal gently descended to the seafloor. Silt plumed around his feet as he clasped his waterlogged arm, then lifted it, holding it out towards Makuta.

“Just…” He turned his head away. “Just make it quick. Before I change my mind.”

[makuta-official]

Gingerly accepting the offered limb, Makuta began examining it to find the essential damage. While finding the offending breach was simple enough (the bubbles streaming out were a dead giveaway), he kept finding himself distracted by other damage Kraata-Kal had taken over the years. Clearly the cretin the Shadowed One had assigned to repair Kraata-Kal in the past was either unable to properly reverse-engineer the magnificent design, or simply had the intellect of a Brakas; Kraata-Kal’s armour was littered with evidence of patch jobs, many poorly done. It was a miracle the suit hadn’t fallen apart centuries ago. This had to stop.

“I have a new proposition for you,” Makuta said quietly, as not to disrupt his focus; careful application of Vacuum had drained the water from Kraata-Kal’s suit, and now his powers over Plasma were gently welding the breaches closed. “Free passage to come and go from my lair in Mangaia as you please, provided you do not steal anything, and free reign over the feral Rahkshi loose on this planet. I realise you were already trying to lead them, but you will no longer be hindered by their fealty to me. And to sweeten the deal a little further,” Makuta paused as he wrenched a fragment of coral from an essential joint. “I will also grant you a provisional position as Viceroy of the Visorak hordes, at least until I am able to locate Roodaka, or a… suitable replacement.”

“All I ask in return is that you do not inform The Shadowed One of Mangaia’s whereabouts, and that you stop by at least once so I can remedy the primitive repairs inflicted upon the rest of your armour.”

Makuta paused in his handiwork to look up at Kraata-Kal.

“What do you say?”

[dark-hunters-inc]

Kraata-Kal sneered. “You can keep your viceroy position. I won’t be a benchwarmer for anyone, least of all for Roodaka and those disgusting spiders. As for your other offer…”

He turned his head to regard Makuta coolly. “You’re not giving me the Rahkshi,” he declared. “They are not yours to give; I have already won dominance. No, you’re just… backing off.” He settled on the words carefully, as if scripting a press release. “If I choose to visit, it will be of my own volition - not out of any duty to you.”

As Makuta welded one of the deepest punctures in Kraata-Kal’s armor, he felt the mechanisms click back into place and sighed in relief. “Oh, do this spot next. It’s been pestering me ever since that oaf Vezok got funny ideas.”

[makuta-official]

Makuta side-eyed Kraata-Kal, but said nothing; he simply chuckled and obliged the request. "Of course," he said after a moment. "That's about the response I expected, to be quite honest. But still..." He found the problem Kraata-Kal spoke of; somehow a blow from Vezok had warped an armour panel just enough that its edge snagged a vital piston, thus stiffening the entire limb's movement. As he carefully pulled it back to free the impeded component, Makuta continued. "Regardless, I hope you understand that, even if I overstepped, I was entirely sincere in what I said to you earlier. I do wish for you to stand with me once more... very specifically by my side, not under my heel. No matter what you choose to do from here on out, that will not change, Kraata-Kal."

Makuta stood, brushing coral fragments from his limbs. "There. That should hold just fine, and free up your movement some, but I cannot do more without proper equipment, or I risk damaging you further. Now, I am going to continue on to collect what I came for, and return home. Will you join me?"

[dark-hunters-inc]

Father-Son Bonding

makuta-official​:

When the murk cleared, and Kraata-Kal had vanished from sight, Makuta became tangible again. He sighed, rubbing his fingers into the bridge of his mask; despite his best efforts, his old arrogance had flared up at the worst possible moment, and led him to say the wrong thing… or, perhaps, too much of the right thing. Either way, this was going to take some serious work to smooth over. Kraata-Kal was no longer simply bitter, he was angry, and that was not something Makuta could deal with easily. 

…But he had to try.

—

Finding Kraata-Kal again was easy, since Makuta could sense him. He approached slowly, quietly; Kraata-Kal would certainly know he was there, but there was every possibility that he would simply lash out again when Makuta got close. So Makuta took just one step closer, and called out. “Will you let me fix your arm? If you choose to leave afterwards, so be it… but it would be a waste to let you drown down here, after all that.”

Kraata-Kal hovered in the water, shadowy currents swirling around him. “A waste?” he scoffed. “Maybe that’s just what I want. One last chance to deny you.”

[makuta-official]

“I don’t doubt that,” replied Makuta, gently, albeit with some difficulty. “But I think you would regret it, at the end of the day… and I would regret it. And you know my feelings on regret. So I’ll ask again… will you…” Makuta screwed his eyes shut for a moment, as if in extreme discomfort, before opening them again, now looking just a little bit exasperated, but no less concerned. “…will you please let me fix your arm?”

[dark-hunters-inc]

Kraata-Kal looked long and hard at Makuta. His words were unfamiliar, and his Rahkshi instincts told him to distrust this strange behavior. But looking closer, Kraata-Kal could tell that Makuta was as uncomfortable with these words as he. Lies issued from his mask as easily as shadows fled the light, but this speech had clearly taken effort.

Wings fluttering through the water, Kraata-Kal gently descended to the seafloor. Silt plumed around his feet as he clasped his waterlogged arm, then lifted it, holding it out towards Makuta.

“Just…” He turned his head away. “Just make it quick. Before I change my mind.”

[makuta-official]

Gingerly accepting the offered limb, Makuta began examining it to find the essential damage. While finding the offending breach was simple enough (the bubbles streaming out were a dead giveaway), he kept finding himself distracted by other damage Kraata-Kal had taken over the years. Clearly the cretin the Shadowed One had assigned to repair Kraata-Kal in the past was either unable to properly reverse-engineer the magnificent design, or simply had the intellect of a Brakas; Kraata-Kal's armour was littered with evidence of patch jobs, many poorly done. It was a miracle the suit hadn't fallen apart centuries ago. This had to stop.

"I have a new proposition for you," Makuta said quietly, as not to disrupt his focus; careful application of Vacuum had drained the water from Kraata-Kal's suit, and now his powers over Plasma were gently welding the breaches closed. "Free passage to come and go from my lair in Mangaia as you please, provided you do not steal anything, and free reign over the feral Rahkshi loose on this planet. I realise you were already trying to lead them, but you will no longer be hindered by their fealty to me. And to sweeten the deal a little further," Makuta paused as he wrenched a fragment of coral from an essential joint. "I will also grant you a provisional position as Viceroy of the Visorak hordes, at least until I am able to locate Roodaka, or a... suitable replacement."

"All I ask in return is that you do not inform The Shadowed One of Mangaia's whereabouts, and that you stop by at least once so I can remedy the primitive repairs inflicted upon the rest of your armour."

Makuta paused in his handiwork to look up at Kraata-Kal.

"What do you say?"

[dark-hunters-inc]

Father-Son Bonding

makuta-official​:

When the murk cleared, and Kraata-Kal had vanished from sight, Makuta became tangible again. He sighed, rubbing his fingers into the bridge of his mask; despite his best efforts, his old arrogance had flared up at the worst possible moment, and led him to say the wrong thing… or, perhaps, too much of the right thing. Either way, this was going to take some serious work to smooth over. Kraata-Kal was no longer simply bitter, he was angry, and that was not something Makuta could deal with easily. 

…But he had to try.

—

Finding Kraata-Kal again was easy, since Makuta could sense him. He approached slowly, quietly; Kraata-Kal would certainly know he was there, but there was every possibility that he would simply lash out again when Makuta got close. So Makuta took just one step closer, and called out. “Will you let me fix your arm? If you choose to leave afterwards, so be it… but it would be a waste to let you drown down here, after all that.”

Kraata-Kal hovered in the water, shadowy currents swirling around him. “A waste?” he scoffed. “Maybe that’s just what I want. One last chance to deny you.”

[makuta-official]

“I don’t doubt that,” replied Makuta, gently, albeit with some difficulty. “But I think you would regret it, at the end of the day... and I would regret it. And you know my feelings on regret. So I’ll ask again... will you...” Makuta screwed his eyes shut for a moment, as if in extreme discomfort, before opening them again, now looking just a little bit exasperated, but no less concerned. “...will you please let me fix your arm?”

[makuta-official]

Father-Son Bonding

[dark-hunters-inc]

makuta-official‌:

“Scared? Perish the thought,” Makuta huffed, crossing his arms. “Cautious, is all. I don’t want to have gone to all the trouble of cajoling you into accompanying me just to have you, or I, die down here… not at my hands, or yours, or any overgrown sea slug. I’ve been working ever so hard to rebuild the bridges I’ve burnt over the years, and I wouldn’t want this one to catch alight while I’m halfway across.”

Makuta turned away from Kraata-Kal, but that did nothing to hide the edge falling from his voice, to be replaced by… something nearing remorse. “And I would think that especially unfair… given this was one of the few bridges I did not willingly burn. But you’d know more about that than I, wouldn’t you, my prodigal son?”

“Didn’t–?” Kraata-Kal whirled, eyes blazing. “Oh, don’t try to deceive me, Makuta. I know what you were scheming… you were planning to make more of my kind, weren’t you? And tell me, once you had an army of Kraata-Kal, what use would the prototype be? Gone the way of the Karzahni for the Morbuzakh, I imagine? So don’t speak to me of bridges… you only value this one because the others were never built.”

[makuta-official]

“My, my,” said Makuta, glancing over his shoulder at the incensed Kraata-Kal. “I had kept my supply of kal a closely guarded secret, known only to a select few Makuta, so how could you possibly know I had the capability to recreate the process that created you?” Makuta pivoted, glaring down at Kraata-Kal. “I understand now; one of my fellow Makuta grew jealous of me keeping the kal for myself, and planted the seeds of rebellion in your mind, leading you to abandon me and hoping to obtain the mutagen in the aftermath. I would suspect Mutran, but he was rarely known to be the jealous type… Chirox perhaps, or Kojol? Who else but they could be narrow-minded enough to not anticipate you would destroy the kal as you made your escape? Or perhaps no one did, and you deluded yourself into betrayal all on your lonesome.”

Makuta tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he loomed over Kraata-Kal. “Regardless of whomever facilitated your betrayal, allow me to tell you exactly why your abandonment of your father was unfounded.” Makuta raised his hand, lifting one finger. “First: Unpredictability. The kal substance was used by beings known as Bahrag, to create an advanced caste of warriors, which was a process I hoped to recreate. However, as evidenced by both you and them, the process does not merely enhance the subject, but grants them new powers altogether. I cannot speak for the Bahrag, who surely understood the substance better than I, but you, with your bizarre concoction of powers, are testament to the unpredictability of the substance, which I had no means to control. Without the ability to precisely bestow powers upon a subject, the process’s unpredictability makes it too risky to replicate, especially on a creature as volatile as a kraata.”

A second finger. “Secondly: Willfulness. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, you are far less obedient than any normal kraata; whereas even Shadow Kraata fall under the will of a Makuta, your mind is entirely your own, and while this made you a highly valuable lieutenant, capable of thinking and acting clearly in the absence of a Makuta to guide you, it also makes you a more wanton element. The warriors of the Bahrag were able to think for themselves, and for them it spelled their doom, as their refusal to heed the Bahrag’s commands led them to destroy themselves. Having many creatures like yourself would be useful only so far as levels of power go, as your natural willfulness and tendency to pursue your own goals would make you far too dangerous a creature to keep around in large quantities. The vuata maca fruit does not fall far from the tree in that regard, I suppose.”

A third finger. “Lastly: Perfection. To be brief, I had no need to replicate the experiment that created you. An advanced kraata, one born of my own flesh, with incredible power and an independent mind to match. Willful though you may have been, you would have made for a superb lieutenant. Perhaps you could have been improved upon via tinkering through other means, but in all ways I could think of, you were the pinnacle of what I had meant to achieve. Considering that, along with the other contributing factors, surely you can see why I would not feel the need to replicate the process.”

The fingers curled into a fist as Makuta lowered his arm, his eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. “I was furious when you left. All that time spent, culminating in you, a near-perfect lieutenant, squandered when you abandoned me. I spent centuries mulling over why you would have sought to betray me, and so violently. I thought perhaps you had lost yourself to your Rahkshi instincts, but that never explained why you would go running to the Shadowed One. I believe I understand now, however.”

A raised eyebrow, and a shrug of armoured shoulders. “I don’t expect you to believe any of this, of course; you are my son, and were I you, I wouldn’t take it at face value either. But surely you understand that what I mean is true: I want you back by my side, Kraata-Kal. No matter how much of your allegiance you choose to grant me, I would like to hope that perhaps together with me, you can find the glory I always intended for you.” 

[dark-hunters-inc]

Shadows twisted and writhed over Kraata-Kal’s armor. Around him, water trembled and began to boil, bubbles curling off his shell. “So, you admit it yourself. I’d be such a perfect creation, if I’d just obey your orders like all your other drones. Your greatest work, yet all you can think about it is how to control it better. So why should I believe a single word from your mask? When you have every incentive to lie, and deflect the blame, and lather up my ego to win me over? It’s all just a desperate attempt at control.”

His broken arm hung at his side. “This is how you always are – how you’ve always been. A condescending control freak who can’t lower his mask for a single second to see another person’s view. I don’t know why I ever thought you weren’t.”

Kraata-Kal brandished his sword, unfurling his wings behind him, and pointed it squarely at Makuta. “I should find the glory you always intended for me, huh?” he snarled. “What if I don’t care what glory you intended? I’ll find whatever I intend. Get your claws out of my destiny, Teridax.”

A blast of shadow, fire, and water erupted from the sword, swirling in a furious torrent towards Makuta. Kraata-Kal shot backwards, letting the elements carry him a great distance, before catching the water in his wings and flapping away. He pulled the shadows tight in the water around him, kicking up silt to hide his path. For now, all he wanted was to disappear.

[makuta-official]

When the murk cleared, and Kraata-Kal had vanished from sight, Makuta became tangible again. He sighed, rubbing his fingers into the bridge of his mask; despite his best efforts, his old arrogance had flared up at the worst possible moment, and led him to say the wrong thing... or, perhaps, too much of the right thing. Either way, this was going to take some serious work to smooth over. Kraata-Kal was no longer simply bitter, he was angry, and that was not something Makuta could deal with easily. 

...But he had to try.

---

Finding Kraata-Kal again was easy, since Makuta could sense him. He approached slowly, quietly; Kraata-Kal would certainly know he was there, but there was every possibility that he would simply lash out again when Makuta got close. So Makuta took just one step closer, and called out. “Will you let me fix your arm? If you choose to leave afterwards, so be it... but it would be a waste to let you drown down here, after all that.”

[makuta-official]

Father-Son Bonding

[dark-hunters-inc]

makuta-official‌:

“Scared? Perish the thought,” Makuta huffed, crossing his arms. “Cautious, is all. I don’t want to have gone to all the trouble of cajoling you into accompanying me just to have you, or I, die down here… not at my hands, or yours, or any overgrown sea slug. I’ve been working ever so hard to rebuild the bridges I’ve burnt over the years, and I wouldn’t want this one to catch alight while I’m halfway across.”

Makuta turned away from Kraata-Kal, but that did nothing to hide the edge falling from his voice, to be replaced by… something nearing remorse. “And I would think that especially unfair… given this was one of the few bridges I did not willingly burn. But you’d know more about that than I, wouldn’t you, my prodigal son?”

“Didn’t–?” Kraata-Kal whirled, eyes blazing. “Oh, don’t try to deceive me, Makuta. I know what you were scheming… you were planning to make more of my kind, weren’t you? And tell me, once you had an army of Kraata-Kal, what use would the prototype be? Gone the way of the Karzahni for the Morbuzakh, I imagine? So don’t speak to me of bridges… you only value this one because the others were never built.”

[makuta-official]

“My, my,” said Makuta, glancing over his shoulder at the incensed Kraata-Kal. “I had kept my supply of kal a closely guarded secret, known only to a select few Makuta, so how could you possibly know I had the capability to recreate the process that created you?” Makuta pivoted, glaring down at Kraata-Kal. “I understand now; one of my fellow Makuta grew jealous of me keeping the kal for myself, and planted the seeds of rebellion in your mind, leading you to abandon me and hoping to obtain the mutagen in the aftermath. I would suspect Mutran, but he was rarely known to be the jealous type... Chirox perhaps, or Kojol? Who else but they could be narrow-minded enough to not anticipate you would destroy the kal as you made your escape? Or perhaps no one did, and you deluded yourself into betrayal all on your lonesome.”

Makuta tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he loomed over Kraata-Kal. “Regardless of whomever facilitated your betrayal, allow me to tell you exactly why your abandonment of your father was unfounded.” Makuta raised his hand, lifting one finger. “First: Unpredictability. The kal substance was used by beings known as Bahrag, to create an advanced caste of warriors, which was a process I hoped to recreate. However, as evidenced by both you and them, the process does not merely enhance the subject, but grants them new powers altogether. I cannot speak for the Bahrag, who surely understood the substance better than I, but you, with your bizarre concoction of powers, are testament to the unpredictability of the substance, which I had no means to control. Without the ability to precisely bestow powers upon a subject, the process’s unpredictability makes it too risky to replicate, especially on a creature as volatile as a kraata.”

A second finger. “Secondly: Willfulness. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, you are far less obedient than any normal kraata; whereas even Shadow Kraata fall under the will of a Makuta, your mind is entirely your own, and while this made you a highly valuable lieutenant, capable of thinking and acting clearly in the absence of a Makuta to guide you, it also makes you a more wanton element. The warriors of the Bahrag were able to think for themselves, and for them it spelled their doom, as their refusal to heed the Bahrag’s commands led them to destroy themselves. Having many creatures like yourself would be useful only so far as levels of power go, as your natural willfulness and tendency to pursue your own goals would make you far too dangerous a creature to keep around in large quantities. The vuata maca fruit does not fall far from the tree in that regard, I suppose.”

A third finger. “Lastly: Perfection. To be brief, I had no need to replicate the experiment that created you. An advanced kraata, one born of my own flesh, with incredible power and an independent mind to match. Willful though you may have been, you would have made for a superb lieutenant. Perhaps you could have been improved upon via tinkering through other means, but in all ways I could think of, you were the pinnacle of what I had meant to achieve. Considering that, along with the other contributing factors, surely you can see why I would not feel the need to replicate the process.”

The fingers curled into a fist as Makuta lowered his arm, his eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. “I was furious when you left. All that time spent, culminating in you, a near-perfect lieutenant, squandered when you abandoned me. I spent centuries mulling over why you would have sought to betray me, and so violently. I thought perhaps you had lost yourself to your Rahkshi instincts, but that never explained why you would go running to the Shadowed One. I believe I understand now, however.”

A raised eyebrow, and a shrug of armoured shoulders. “I don’t expect you to believe any of this, of course; you are my son, and were I you, I wouldn’t take it at face value either. But surely you understand that what I mean is true: I want you back by my side, Kraata-Kal. No matter how much of your allegiance you choose to grant me, I would like to hope that perhaps together with me, you can find the glory I always intended for you.” 

[makuta-official]

Father-Son Bonding

[dark-hunters-inc]

makuta-official‌:

A stone the size of a kolhii ball struck Makuta in the chest, sending him hurtling backwards into a nearby coral reef, and leaving him with a lingering sense of having done this before. He elected to wait where he was, having become slightly lodged in the reef, before making his next move. As the cloud of murk dissipated, he saw Kraata-Kal standing around, presumably wondering if the blast had somehow annihilated his father as well. 

Makuta sighed, and, flexing, extricated himself from the reef. Then, while Kraata-Kal was turned away, Makuta picked up a small rock and flicked it with his thumb at his companion, smacking into the reckless mutant with a most satisfying ding. “That makes us even, I think. Look at that, I believe you may have dented my armour. Most impressive.” said Makuta, side-eyeing his miscreant of a son. “Shall we continue on, before one of us manages to disintegrate the other?”

Within his armor, Kraata-Kal contorted his tendrils in the equivalent of a smirk. “What, are you starting to get scared?” he jabbed. “Let’s go find your scrap heap and get out of here.”

[makuta-official]

"Scared? Perish the thought," Makuta huffed, crossing his arms. "Cautious, is all. I don't want to have gone to all the trouble of cajoling you into accompanying me just to have you, or I, die down here... not at my hands, or yours, or any overgrown sea slug. I've been working ever so hard to rebuild the bridges I've burnt over the years, and I wouldn't want this one to catch alight while I'm halfway across."

Makuta turned away from Kraata-Kal, but that did nothing to hide the edge falling from his voice, to be replaced by... something nearing remorse. "And I would think that especially unfair... given this was one of the few bridges I did not willingly burn. But you'd know more about that than I, wouldn't you, my prodigal son?"

[makuta-official]

Father-Son Bonding

[dark-hunters-inc]

makuta-official‌:

“Oh, hush,” Makuta said breezily. “Sound is amplified underwater; there’s no way I could’ve done that without hitting you a little bit. On the plus side, any other option that would’ve worked on the beast would also have killed you, without doubt, so I would consider myself lucky, were I you. And more to the point,” Makuta gestured to the behemoth, which was beginning to gently stir on the ocean floor. “The creature may awake soon. Continuing to fight it would be risky, inconvenient, and above all, irritating. It’s been some time since we’ve fought together, so do remind me: your power over water, do you think it would be strong enough to push the beast away from us? Simply moving it away, and then making ourselves scarce, would be the simplest option here, I believe.”

Kraata-Kal pouted. He’d already been planning on that, but to hear it proposed by Makuta made it seem asinine.

“Of course I’m strong enough, old man!” he barked, clasping his limp arm. He glanced at the stirring beast. Shadow would be of no use here; the beast could surely smell them. And fire was useless underwater. Except…

Tapping into his fire power, he felt something deep beneath, buried under layers of silt and stone. Within his armored shell, Kraata-Kal grinned. Yes, that will do nicely.

With a sudden motion, and absolutely no warning, Kraata-Kal wrenched his good arm upwards, pulling on a source of heat and flame beneath the leviathan. Before the shadowy duo’s eyes, an abyssal heat vent exploded upwards, creating a column of dust and boiling water. It was enough force to blast the behemoth far away… and send tremors ripping through the stone, threatening to topple Kraata-Kal and Makuta both.

[makuta-official]

A stone the size of a kolhii ball struck Makuta in the chest, sending him hurtling backwards into a nearby coral reef, and leaving him with a lingering sense of having done this before. He elected to wait where he was, having become slightly lodged in the reef, before making his next move. As the cloud of murk dissipated, he saw Kraata-Kal standing around, presumably wondering if the blast had somehow annihilated his father as well. 

Makuta sighed, and, flexing, extricated himself from the reef. Then, while Kraata-Kal was turned away, Makuta picked up a small rock and flicked it with his thumb at his companion, smacking into the reckless mutant with a most satisfying ding. “That makes us even, I think. Look at that, I believe you may have dented my armour. Most impressive.” said Makuta, side-eyeing his miscreant of a son. “Shall we continue on, before one of us manages to disintegrate the other?”

[makuta-official]

Father-Son Bonding

[dark-hunters-inc]

makuta-official‌:

The beast bellowed in outrage, and Makuta, for the first time in millennia, wished he had temples to rub; he hadn’t even known he could get headaches in his energy state. “Was this really necessary?” He pondered aloud, watching the behemoth thrash in pain, and watching Kraata-Kal attempt to retain his grasp on his sword.

Makuta huffed and wound up to fire a blast of chain lightning, and then stopped. Such a move risked incinerating Kraata-Kal, and that would be somewhat counteractive to Makuta’s goals. Therefore, clearly, a new plan needed to be set in motion, something less likely to vaporise his companion. Makuta snapped his fingers in frustration, and then stopped. Looked down at his fingers. A plan formed. Makuta grinned internally and walked forward. The behemoth was circling around, oblivious to its surroundings, and was about to ram into him. Makuta, unfazed, simply called out, “Kraata-Kal, if you can hear me, I suggest…” Makuta raised his arm, “You should cover your ears.” And snapped his fingers.

The snap, amplified a hundredfold by Makuta’s powers of Sonics, and a hundredfold again by the water, hit the behemoth with the force of a small airship crashing. The great beast was rendered comatose in an instant, its momentum carrying it to the ocean floor, and Makuta admired the sight of his handiwork. What he could not admire, however, was the sight of Kraata-Kal, who, in the cloud of murk kicked up by the attack, was nowhere to be seen.

Kraata-Kal awoke.

He was falling, slowly, through churning water. Silt was streaming all around him. His armor felt heavy… lopsided.

Blinking, he glanced at his arm, and realized the problem: his armor had fractured, and water was filling the compartments within his limb. A flash of panic accompanied this realization, until he realized his kraata shell was secure. He would have to be careful to ensure that it took no damage, or else he would be left a wriggling worm in an ocean full of beasts.

With one arm hanging limply at his side, he raised the other and summoned a current to carry him out of the silt, away from the fallen behemoth, and down to the master of shadows. He landed shakily on two legs, steadying himself with his good arm, and glared at Makuta. “Watch where you’re aiming,” he snapped. “Unless that was intentional?”

[makuta-official]

“Oh, hush,” Makuta said breezily. “Sound is amplified underwater; there’s no way I could’ve done that without hitting you a little bit. On the plus side, any other option that would’ve worked on the beast would also have killed you, without doubt, so I would consider myself lucky, were I you. And more to the point,” Makuta gestured to the behemoth, which was beginning to gently stir on the ocean floor. “The creature may awake soon. Continuing to fight it would be risky, inconvenient, and above all, irritating. It’s been some time since we’ve fought together, so do remind me: your power over water, do you think it would be strong enough to push the beast away from us? Simply moving it away, and then making ourselves scarce, would be the simplest option here, I believe.”