06-14-2018, 12:40 PM
It had been a long time in hermitage. The Spirit had always had a murky reckoning for time, here in this splintered reality, especially considering his predisposition for long stretches of introspective torpor. This time had, especially, been one of unmarked days in study and reflection.
Kopaka had come to appreciate his bestial cohabitants within this blasted caldera. He had watched with patience and great interest as the lava flow on the eastern wall had slowly encroached further towards the center. The wildlife, ever adapting, had simply shifted their lazy daily rituals to avoid the growing torrent of igneous death. It had been weeks since he had last worn his kanohi, or even his sword and shield. Life in the caldera was patient, and hallowed...barring the occasional pyroclastic flow that threatened to reduce all of them to instant fossilization. Kopaka had barely been tempted to kill anything for a long time, and when he did, it was usually just to satiate the curiosity of foreign biology.
But what had really gripped the Toa's mind for the duration of his stay here had been culture. Spending long hours delving the depths of all available writings and teaching on the Dataverse, Kopaka had found a deep appreciation for poetry and writing. Homer, Shakespeare, Baudelaire, Keats, Alighieri...all of them were on a same level of reverence that the warrior of ice had reserved only for the radiance of Mata Nui. Now, however, his horizons had been broadened. None of them, of course, were able to act as a panacea for the darkness that still clung to his soul like a waxen weight, but they had taught him how to own it. Rather that resist the perfidious infection, Kopaka now took it within himself. He would not be diminished by the sneering purity of self-proclaimed paladins any more. His Unity was within himself, his Duty to his own will, and his Destiny of his own choosing.
The only problem, however, was that he still did not know what he wanted. Granted, Kopaka had always been a firm believer in knowing what he didn't want, but to actively choose what was desirable had never been placed in front of him. The Darkness hungered for blood and suffering. It's needs were animal, and by dint of that, could be tamed if left unprovoked. But as a composite creature, the Toa was aware that he wanted something more out of this indefinite existence, but he could not define that.
In time, however, Kopaka became aware of the fact that the yearly festival of charnel voyeurism was once again under way. Primes had flocked in obeisance to the siren call of Karl Jak, and now mutilated each other in earnest, motivated by vanity, greed, or any other number of vices.
The Toa found it succulent. But...it would be better for him not to partake. His last attempt at participating in such a public forum of blood had resulted in a stain on his character which had proven most indelible. It wasn't as if Kopaka was scared of failing in such a capacity again...no, not at all...it was moreso a tactical decision. Let the frothing beasts smite their ruin upon one another; the biomech would be there to catch the abundant scraps.
This was not so much a goal as it was a simple intention, but, it was at least enough to see the icy warrior delivered to the threshold of one of Syntech's ubiquitous transport stations. Having wrapped himself in a heavy, hooded cloak, and having stowed sword, shield and mask beneath it, the master of cold made his way to a new land of opportunity...
Kopaka had come to appreciate his bestial cohabitants within this blasted caldera. He had watched with patience and great interest as the lava flow on the eastern wall had slowly encroached further towards the center. The wildlife, ever adapting, had simply shifted their lazy daily rituals to avoid the growing torrent of igneous death. It had been weeks since he had last worn his kanohi, or even his sword and shield. Life in the caldera was patient, and hallowed...barring the occasional pyroclastic flow that threatened to reduce all of them to instant fossilization. Kopaka had barely been tempted to kill anything for a long time, and when he did, it was usually just to satiate the curiosity of foreign biology.
But what had really gripped the Toa's mind for the duration of his stay here had been culture. Spending long hours delving the depths of all available writings and teaching on the Dataverse, Kopaka had found a deep appreciation for poetry and writing. Homer, Shakespeare, Baudelaire, Keats, Alighieri...all of them were on a same level of reverence that the warrior of ice had reserved only for the radiance of Mata Nui. Now, however, his horizons had been broadened. None of them, of course, were able to act as a panacea for the darkness that still clung to his soul like a waxen weight, but they had taught him how to own it. Rather that resist the perfidious infection, Kopaka now took it within himself. He would not be diminished by the sneering purity of self-proclaimed paladins any more. His Unity was within himself, his Duty to his own will, and his Destiny of his own choosing.
The only problem, however, was that he still did not know what he wanted. Granted, Kopaka had always been a firm believer in knowing what he didn't want, but to actively choose what was desirable had never been placed in front of him. The Darkness hungered for blood and suffering. It's needs were animal, and by dint of that, could be tamed if left unprovoked. But as a composite creature, the Toa was aware that he wanted something more out of this indefinite existence, but he could not define that.
In time, however, Kopaka became aware of the fact that the yearly festival of charnel voyeurism was once again under way. Primes had flocked in obeisance to the siren call of Karl Jak, and now mutilated each other in earnest, motivated by vanity, greed, or any other number of vices.
The Toa found it succulent. But...it would be better for him not to partake. His last attempt at participating in such a public forum of blood had resulted in a stain on his character which had proven most indelible. It wasn't as if Kopaka was scared of failing in such a capacity again...no, not at all...it was moreso a tactical decision. Let the frothing beasts smite their ruin upon one another; the biomech would be there to catch the abundant scraps.
This was not so much a goal as it was a simple intention, but, it was at least enough to see the icy warrior delivered to the threshold of one of Syntech's ubiquitous transport stations. Having wrapped himself in a heavy, hooded cloak, and having stowed sword, shield and mask beneath it, the master of cold made his way to a new land of opportunity...
C O L D