OOC: Well, I guess I should should consider myself lucky Skorm still alive after being puppeted that badly... IC: Skorm was never one to let go easily. He coughed up mouthfuls of black ooze. In the moment of clarity brought about by the sheer pain, he realized he hadn't seen any of his own blood after that skakdi had splashed him with that strange substance... the event that had led to his enlightening. He could still feel his legs, thank... who, exactly? The Kalta had served Mata Nui, that was what Aelied said. Did he serve Makuta now? No, Skorm served only himself and his goals, at least for now. Anyway, Skorm certainly felt his legs, or at least two towering pillars of pain that were connected to what used to be his waist. The guardian's fist certainly hadn't treated his ribcage well, either. Why the Karz did he try to use gravity on it? He had trained with Casanuva, he knew how well gravity worked on things with unnatural strength. It was if his plan to alter gravity to pull himself away, and activate his Huna had been wiped from his mind... As it was, Skorm couldn't walk. At least he was blessed with an element that could compensate, at least. Vague murmurings of his life as a gravitics engineer, blank faces, names, flashed by, as he remember an intensive care antigrav unit he had performed maintenance on. He tried to remember more, but could only remember... the training. When Aelied came to him, he thought he was chosen to be a hero. None of them were told that their memories would be wiped. His life, gone. He couldn't remember if it had been happy, fulfilling, even if it was terrible. All of it had been replaced... by the Kalta. His life was gone, stolen from him; now he was taking it back. And he would destroy those who had dared to take it from him. Well, all of this philosophical revelations tinted by mutagen were one thing, when Skorm was still lying against a wall. He decided it was best to stay put, for now. Sitting was good.