STORYLINE

The Hidden Manimal Mine of Maui Lou

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The tunnels, lava tubes, and storage facilities beneath Lahaina have long been popular places for those with an adventurous spirit to explore. Finding supplies and weapons can be very lucrative to those brave or foolish enough to explore these dark places. However, one such location has held the imagination of islanders much more than any other, and it might not even exist. The Hidden Manimal Mine of Maui Lou is a story every child knows, and a dream a handful try to find every year.

Maui Lou was not a well-known man in his time or a successful one. He spent most nights sleeping on the beach beneath the stars, and his days wandering from place to place. When he was younger, Lou dreamed of being a professional surfer, but in his early 50’s the only thing he surfed was couches. And so it would have gone, had it not been for the great fracture. Like so many, the accident awakened something inside Lou and showed him his destiny.

From his time wandering the town, Lou knew many places to seek shelter and the best gardens in Lahaina. He helped many make it through those first terrible weeks and soon found himself with quite a following. While harvesting vegetables from abandoned backyards, and canned foods from demolished stores, was helpful to the survivors, Lou began to believe that they owed their lives to one thing, the hydrating powers of Manimal.

His Manimal obsession and strange beliefs around the drink grew, and his believers followed suit. They began calling themselves “The Quenched”. They believed that in addition to your physical thirst, Maimal could satisfy your emotional and spiritual thirst as well. Under Lou’s leadership, the group followed The Three Tenets: intensity in all actions, ferociousness of thought, and daily acts of daring. The group became famed for its outrageous escapades and chaotic nature.

While they were not openly hostile to others, working with a group of The Quenched was all but impossible. They could not resist climbing tall structures and leaping whenever possible. When exploring an unknown area, it was common for a member of the group to run ahead with a Manimal in each hand, screaming their intentions. Others began to shun the group and refuse to be involved with any project that included the drink-loving fanatics.

Soon, they found themselves outcasts, and it was too much for Lou. He moved his followers to the Mauna Kahalawai mountains and began preaching visions of doom. He told The Quenched that this new world would not be the last. Another great cleansing was on its way, and that in the future the extreme would inherit the Earth. They began expanding an old mine to make it a suitable place to live out the upcoming catastrophe. It is here that the stories diverge.

Some say The Quenched built a gigantic recirculating pool, to hold all the Manimal they had collected over the years at a perfect temperature. Others say they were much too unorganized for such a feat, and simply filled many tanks with Manimal to serve as a source of life-giving hydration, while they waited out the end. Whatever the truth, one thing is certain. When they were done, they hid the entrance and sealed themselves inside with Maui Lou delivering a warning, anyone who were to go inside without believing in the Three Tenets, would find nothing but their doom. The Quenched were never seen again.

There the tale might have ended, a bedtime story for children, had it not been for a Thriver woman named Cork Waltz. By all accounts, Cork was an excellent scrounger and bragged that she came from a long line of treasure hunters. While Cork could find a single wire hidden in a field of pili grass, what she loved finding above all else was Manimal. She was obsessed with the old drink and stories of the mine. Every year, Cork would explore the mountains for a few weeks in the spring, looking for the hidden entrance and return to the jokes and teasing of her friends. Then one year, Cork didn’t return as usual.

Everyone assumed she had been taken by one of the island’s many dangers or had slipped from a cliff. They were overjoyed when she finally made it back, but her pack bursting full of Manimal made them wonder. The usually boisterous Cork remained unusually quiet about where she found the drink as well. When she left again in the morning, the rumors spread quickly.

Over the next few months, Cork would take many long trips, each time returning more intense, and with more Manimal. Her neighbors were now sure that she had found Maui Lou’s Manimal Mine and many tried to follow her. Cork began to take long dangerous routes to throw off any pursuers. The speed and energy she’d display while scrambling up rocks and navigating the narrow twisting trails did little to dispel the rumors, and attempts to follow her always failed. Then a group of trackers happened upon Cork at the bottom of a ravine. Apparently, her attempts to elude her followers finally caught up to her. She had slipped and fallen from a ledge, but before she passed she left some tantalizing clues.

According to the stories, Cork’s lips and hands were stained red with Manimal, although her pack contained no Radical Red flavor. Even more tantalizing, she had scratched a crude map on a rock next to her with the words, “Extreme Refreshment” underneath. Since then, many have searched for the location of the mine without success. There are almost as many copies of the map floating around, as there are people gullible enough to buy them. Still, there just might be a pool of Manimal underground somewhere out there, just waiting for someone brave or foolish enough to go looking for it.

STORYLINE

The Lost Submarines of Simon Kai

Living on an island and being so connected to the water, it is no surprise that so many Kanaka legends focus on boats and the sea. We are taught how to read the currents and how to follow the seabirds to find land at an early age. Every young Kanaka knows the story of the great fisherman Lawai’a. We learn why we should avoid the Eldridge, resting on its mountain perch with her ghostly crew, cursed to never sail again. One legend however has a special place in the hearts of all adventurous Kanaka children and has been the bane of many concerned mothers. It is the story of the lost submarines of Simon Kai.

It was once said that the difference between a child and an adult was the price of their toys, and so it was with Simon Kai. Before the fracture, those of great wealth would spend exorbitant amounts on boats, cars, and homes, but some preferred something more unique. Kai collected anything related to ocean exploration and his warehouses on Lanai were bursting with: cameras, specially made diving equipment, and automated deep-sea rovers, but submarines were his passion.

A man of great means, Kai’s submarine collection was impressive indeed with examples from many different eras. His estate resembled a maritime museum more than a home. Although many would consider him eccentric, he was a very popular figure on the island. He would give tours of his collection to tourists or anyone who seemed interested. His pride and joy was a 60-foot long luxury sub he called the Kanaloa, named after the Hawaiian god of the ocean. Being a personal friend of Eric Oeming, the creator of the veil, it was not unusual for Kai to ferry Veilcorp guests around in his ship. But the Earth didn’t care about money or status on the day of the great accident. Three days after the fracture, a giant flood hit Lanai and delivered at least one of his submarines to Lahaina.

According to the stories, one found its way to Kalani beach and was discovered by a group of Veilcorp scientists who began repairing the beached metal beast. It took months for them to seal the cracks in the hull and to rebuild the broken propeller. Unfortunately for them, others had been watching their efforts as well.

The Tappers came early, shrouded in the morning mist. Most of the scientists never made it inside, and those that did were not spared. The submarine now rests just offshore, buried in the reef. Some say that the Tappers use it as an underwater cache and have dug a tunnel that connects to the bottom of the boat. Others believe the ship contains only the skeletons of scientists and whatever secrets and hopes they held.

It was 20 years before another one of Kai’s subs was discovered. A group of Kanaka fishermen found the great yellow machine tangled in their nets one morning and paddled it to their village. They named it Hilina’i after the whale in the story of Lawai’a. Even though we Kanaka do not revere technology in the same way the Thrivers do, the usefulness of a working submarine was apparent. For years the Hilina’i could be seen cruising off the coast helping fisherman and rescuing those in bad weather. When Chief Ikaika began his campaign against the horrors born of the fracture, the Hilina’i joined the cause.

Those who were at the Battle of Black Rock Beach, say that when the ship rose from the water like some great avenging spirit, adorned with the markings of war, it broke the morale of the enemy and they fled. Unfortunately for the Hilina’i, the Kanaka embrace celebration with the same vigor as they do battle. The ship survived the great accident, 40-years adrift around the islands, and a year-long war, but it could not survive the carelessness of an overindulged crew. The sub sank on its way back home and still remains visible to all as a reminder to always remain vigilant, especially after a victory.

Rumors persist that more of Kai’s submarines lay hidden, waiting to be discovered. It is common for groups of Kanaka children to walk the beaches and explore hidden coves in the hopes of finding one of the lost ships. Some even say that Kai himself survived the fracture and the lights sometimes seen in the bay are him traveling in the Kanaloa searching for the rest of his fleet. Most laugh at such an idea, but in the past people also laughed at the idea of boats that could navigate underwater and being able to travel across the world in the blink of an eye. The world has seen many wonders before and it will see wonders again. The lost submarines of Simon Kai remain one of the most beloved Kanaka legends and have led many to wonder about their fate.

Bruddah Lee

Kanaka Historian

STORYLINE

The Kanaka Guide To Green Ladies

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The Fracture didn’t just destroy much of the old world, it produced a number of new problems for we Kānaka to overcome. Many animals grew large and angry. Water and food became scarce. On top of that, a number of creatures were born to test our strength. The Menehune scuttle in the dark dismantling anything they find working and taking down the unwary. The Night Marchers use their brute strength, speed, and cunning to hunt us like animals for food. But there is one new horror born after the fracture that the Kānaka fear most, the Green Ladies.

The accident tore down and damaged people as well as buildings. According to the legends the Kānaka rebuilt themselves with the power of the land itself, giving them a good foundation and making them strong and resilient. The Green Ladies however fortified themselves with the darkness and seclusion of the deep forest, some people say that they came out of the labs in the old train station, but they seem to avoid this area.

From a distance you might make the misfortune of confusing a Green Lady for a person. They appear like tall women with green skin. Thorny vines surround their bodies and sweet smelling flowers bloom from their hair. Some say that the color of the flowers represent different kinds of Green Ladies with different abilities, but most think it’s just a natural variation like your hair.

They are excellent mimics and can make the calls of many birds and animals. Their voices sound like the wind rustling through the leaves or the howling of a storm when they are angry. The stories say that they are unable to speak but can communicate by talking directly in your mind. A Green Lady is a master of camouflage and almost completely silent in the jungle, so chances are if you see one it is because she is hunting you.

Green Ladies seem to have a symbiotic relationship with the vines that surround them. During the day they spend most of their time absorbing energy from the sun and can sit perfectly still in one spot for many hours. They say that man can not live on bread alone, and so to is the sun inadequate for the needs of these creatures. They need blood, preferably from the young.
The Kānaka say they prefer the blood of the young because it contains the most vitality. Newuskin blood is a particular favorite. The Thrivers on the other hand, say the preference is because there are specific molecules in old blood that inhibit cell development, but they thought the veil was safe too, so who knows.

The monsters are incredibly fast and can move quickly through the deepest brush. Their speed and erratic movements make them incredibly hard to target with a firearm. Your best weapon against a Green Lady is a large group. Your second best weapon is some sort of chopping instrument or fire. They have a great fear of flames.

Unlike the other horrors bred from the fracture, Green Ladies retain much of their intelligence, twisted as it is. There are many stories about people making deals with the creatures trading blood for safety or some service. The old story of the Green Lady of Keali’i Gulch is one such example. Just like in the story, an agreement made with one of these creatures is unlikely to turn out well, as they can hear your surface thoughts making lying difficult.

Unlike the Night Marchers, Green Ladies are exceedingly cautious. They tend to pick off stragglers and lone wanderers making your best defense against them a large group. Because they rely on the sun to build up energy they are most active at night. In fact, a well fed Green Lady is unlikely to attack if you pass near one in the day time.

To stay safe in Green Lady territory there are a couple of quick and easy rules: go out an hour after sunrise, go home at least an hour before dark, carry a way to make a fire, only travel in groups, and if you suddenly smell flowers or hear the sound of the wind when it’s not blowing don’t run. Not because it is going to trigger the predatory instincts of the Green Lady about to drain your blood, but because it’s already too late.

STORYLINE

The Green Lady of Keali’i Gulch

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According to Kānaka legend, there used to be a large farm near Keali’i Gulch. Hana farm was well-known in the area for a number of reasons. It was one of the few places on the island relatively untouched by the fracture. The farm became a sanctuary for the entire extended family and many of their neighbors. The Hana’s become famous for the incredible fecundity of their land. The taro grew huge. All the fruit was amazingly sweet. The quality of the crops garnered a premium and the family did quite well for a period of time. Then the sickness began and people began to whisper about a curse.

At the end of that first year, everyone on the farm began to fall ill. It wasn’t long before some of the hired help started to have accidents. Between the misfortune in the fields and the mysterious sickness, the Hana’s soon found themselves working the farm alone. Tragedy continued to follow the family until only the grandmother and a group of 12 grandchildren remained. The collection of cousins and siblings kept the farm running, but it was a shadow of its former self.

While many avoided the family and farm, one of the village boys, Kahale Wiwo’ole, became good friends with Pualani the eldest granddaughter. The pair would often be found together talking about the farm and the future. One day the teenagers had been out too late making plans for Pualani’s birthday. The girl was turning 16 and Kahale was planning something special. They arrived around dinner time, and Grandmother Hana was not pleased. “Pualani! Where have you been? Why is that boy here so late? It will be dark soon and you know how tired you all get after dinner. Make him go home,” she yelled.

Kahale kissed the girl on the cheek and told her he’d see her in the morning. That night he tossed and turned. He couldn’t figure out why Grandmother Hana had been so mad. He and Pualani had been friends for years. Mostly, he thought about how embarrassed his friend had looked and decided he would sneak out to make sure she was alright.

It was easy for Kahale to find the farm even in the dark. He snuck around back and tapped lightly on the window. He tapped again and again, but nothing happened. Lifting the window, he crawled inside only to find all the beds empty. Opening the bedroom door just a crack he couldn’t believe what he saw.

All the children were still seated at the table, but they were all in a deep sleep. Pualani’s grandmother stood behind her with a hollow ipu gourd. The boy had to cover his mouth when he saw the woman pull a large thorn from a pocket, and poke the back of his friend’s neck. She filled the gourd with blood and walked to the front door without a word.

After she left, Kahale rushed to his friend to make sure she was ok. He couldn’t wake her up but was reassured that Pualani was still breathing, and decided to see where grandmother Hana was going. Sneaking out the door, he could see her walking through the fields towards the jungle, and decided to follow. The woman stopped abruptly. He was afraid that she had heard him, but then he noticed something moving. A tall green woman wrapped in vines, with flowers in her hair appeared from the foliage. “I have your drink,” the grandmother said before handing over the gourd. A sound like wind blowing through the branches came from the woman, and the scent of jasmine and gardenia filled the air, but she never spoke. “Yes, I know our bargain. She will be 16 tomorrow and I will bring her. As you are fed, so shall you feed our fields,” the grandmother said and bowed low. The green lady was gone as suddenly as she appeared, and the elder Hana walked back to the house.

Kahale didn’t sleep that night and waited for Pualani on the trail leading to town. The frightened young man tried to explain to his friend what he had seen, but Pualani didn’t believe him. When he mentioned the wound on the back of her neck they found that it had somehow healed overnight. He begged the girl to stay with his family, but she refused and angrily ran back to the farm.

Kahale didn’t know what to do. If Pualani didn’t believe him what chance did he have convincing anyone else? He hardly believed it himself. He walked home to try and figure out what to do. All day he paced back and forth and read through old books trying to find an answer. Finally, his uncle asked the obviously troubled boy what was wrong, and why he wasn’t with his friend on her birthday. Exhausted and out of options, Kahale broke down and told him what he had seen. Instead of laughing or accusing the boy of dreaming, Kahale’s uncle grabbed him by the arm and went to get help.

Just before nightfall Kahale and a group of the villagers raced to the farm. They arrived just in time to see grandmother Hana pushing Pualani in a wheelbarrow through the fields. Just as before, the green lady stepped out of the foliage and reached out towards the unconscious girl. Before she could touch her, one of the villagers screamed out and the creature froze. A deafening scream came from deep inside the green lady and she grabbed grandmother Hana. Everyone watched in horror as the creature drained the old woman in seconds until she was a dried husk.

The beast ran into the jungle with the villagers giving chase. They cornered her in a cave and decided to build a big fire at the entrance to smoke her out. By morning a few of the bravest ventured inside, but all they found was some bones and a tangle of thorny vines with a blood-red wilted flower in the center. Pualani recovered as did the rest of the children. They moved to the village and their ancestors can still be found there today. The green lady of Keali’i gulch was never seen again. People still farm the surrounding lands, but they are very careful to always be home at least 2 hours before dark.

STORYLINE

How The Augustinian Cliffs Got Their Name

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The Kanaka have many sacred areas and revered places on the island, but a few stand out from the others. The Augustinian Cliffs are one such place. Sitting in the shadow of the great peak Pu’u Kukui and overlooking the vital Kahoma stream, the cliffs are a place where one can beseech the spirits of the island for protection and the ancestors for guidance. Although it was once a Thriver outpost, it is now considered a cherished Kanaka site, and a place where you can remember the power of bravery and belief.

Augustin never dreamed of being a leader, but the fracture allowed many to find their true purpose. Before Veilcorp tore the world apart, he taught the ancient Hawaiian martial art of Kapu Kuialua in his dojo on the beach. While countless screamed and ran in terror, he remained calm and gathered those that needed shelter inside until the earth stopped shaking, and the orange rain ended.

The world that was born from the fracture was a much harder one than before, with little mercy for the weak. Augustin took in as many Kanaka as he could, but soon realized that unless they had the tools to survive, he was not truly saving them. However, there were so many that he couldn’t possibly teach them all by himself. It was then that he picked his 9 best students, including his daughter Anakalia, and made them his Kumu, each a master in an aspect of Ku’ialua. With his 9 trusted Kumu at his side he could teach the people to protect themselves quickly, and the Kanaka had a chance.

The people learned how to break bones, strike with purpose, and bend vulnerable joints. No longer prey for the wolves, bandits, and the terrors of the forest, the Kanaka began to reclaim their rightful place on the island. Word spread quickly of the teachings of Augustin and his 9 Kumu. Soon, Kanaka from across the island traveled to his dojo to learn how to protect themselves and their people. One young man caught the eye of Augustin, a gangly young son of a fisherman named Ikaika.

The boy became his star pupil. He was not the most talented physically but what he lacked in body he made up for in heart and spirit. By the end of the first year he challenged and defeated his first Kumu, and eventually proved his prowess against all the masters, even Augustin. Fifteen years after arriving at the dojo, the great chief Ikaika began to rally other Kanka to sweep the island clean of the terrors of the fracture. He eventually cleared the menehune from Front street, drove the green ladies North, and aligned with the Thrivers of Pu’u to meet the vast night marcher horde at Black Rock Beach.

The outcome of the battle was not certain. Ikaika took virtually all the able-bodied with him North, leaving many Kanaka under the watchful eye of the aging Augustin and his Kumu. The Thrivers sent the old and infirm, as well as their children, to a stronghold in the mountains for their safety, but instead of protecting their weak, they had served them on a platter. A group of night marchers heading to Black Rock Beach had noticed the vulnerable Thrivers high on the mountain, and discovered the single trail leading to the outpost.

The walls kept the initial wave from getting inside but it soon became apparent that the meager defenses would not hold, and with only one trail up or down, there was no escape. 3 runners were dispatched, and one eventually made it through the throngs of claws and teeth, all the way to the dojo for help. She was heartbroken when she found that only a handful of Koa and the old Kapu Kuialua masters were left behind. She was busy trying to convince one of the young warriors to send for help when Augustin stopped her. Laden with as much rope as they could carry, he vowed that he and his 9 Kumu would save her people.

Knowing that the single trail going up would be their doom, Augustin and the masters began to climb the cliffs, fixing anchor points and securing lines as they went. Hands hardened by years of discipline and practice, now quickly found purchase in the cracks of the rock face. The group climbed over 1,500 feet as fast as most could walk. When they crested the top they could see that they were probably too late.

The walls burst in and the night marchers howled. Without hesitation the Kumu surged forward. Where stone and wood had given way, the screaming horde found a new wall of hardened fists, clubs, and expertly placed blows. So ferocious was their attack that the night marchers withdrew for a moment to assess their new foes. This was all the time Augustin and Anakalia needed. Together they began to usher down those who could climb the ropes, and began lowering down those who couldn’t.

Sensing the Thrivers escape, the creatures rushed forward again. The Kumu fought valiantly for as long as they could, but they were too few to fight off the hundreds of night marchers. Eventually only Augustin and Anakalia were left. The Thrivers say that they were covered with the creatures when they lowered the last survivors down, but did not stop to fight back until they were sure that the Thrivers were safe.

When Chief Ikaika returned and heard the story he went to the outpost himself to look for his old teacher. However, Augustin, Anakalia, and the other Kumu were never found. Some say their bravery and prowess helped remind the night marchers of their true purpose, protecting the Kanaka and their great chiefs. It is rumored that Augustin and his 9 Kumu still guard the cliffs from those who would harm the island and its people. Whatever the truth, the Thrivers agreed to respect the warriors by never using the outpost again, and the area has been known as the Augustinian Cliffs ever since. It remains one of our most sacred and beloved places.

STORYLINE

Make Lahaina Beautiful Again!

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As President of the Lahaina Merchants Association, I’d like to thank my fellow sellers and citizens for making the past year our best and brightest so far. Our Fall initiatives really made a big difference. Our renewed focus on quality and specialization, as well as our pricing and distribution agreements led to record profits. I couldn’t be more proud about how we handled the sudden increase in potential shoppers, after the global backup connection was restarted at the Veilcorp facility.

These new faces have let us build up quite a surplus, and allows us to make even more changes. While some of these new buyers are fine people concerned only with their welfare and the welfare of their loved ones, there is another sort as well. Of course I’m talking about those interested in running through the jungle and ruins, shooting at anything that moves too fast. The kind that charges into a group of night marchers, and ends up having to run back to town for safety with a trail of those nightmares running after. The individuals who think it’s their right to check the pockets and packs of any random person they see laid out somewhere. I’m talking of course of the adventurer.

We’ve always had a few willing to leap before they look. I can’t count how many times Sgt. Kaua has interrupted a town picnic ranting about how he’d vanquished some foe while fresh blood dripped from his beard. Sure it was a bit off-putting, but there’s no doubt that on the whole, he makes the island safer. Nonetheless, we don’t need another Kaua, let alone a dozen more.

We need to appeal to the less extreme new visitors to our beloved island, and the time has never been better. The new moon came early this year and the menehune have already completed their annual dance. That should give us at least a month to work diligently before we have to worry about them getting their energy and bad attitudes back. The association has set enough money aside from our Fall push to pay off the bandits for at least that length of time. It would be a shame if we didn’t grab hold of the opportunity that is being presented to us. Let’s bring back the beauty to our home, and make it a good place to start a family, not trouble.

First we need to remove any and all skulls, enemy corpses, and various animal parts from view. I know many of you, particularly the Kānaka, believe that it wards off potential enemies and adds just the right amount of “don’t start trouble here” to your homes and businesses. You’re probably right, but it also acts like a sign to the hazard-seeking type. It lets them know that there are probably weapons in the area and items to loot. Adventurers are drawn to a collection of night marcher skulls like a moth is to flame. Let’s put out this particular attraction until we have the town back into a respectable state.

There’s no doubt that we’ve all done a bit of scavenging in our day, and many of us still turn over a brick or two looking for something useful, but these people will collect anything. I had a gentlemen show up to one of my shops with a bag of broken plates he’d liberated from the ruins. He asked how much he could get for them, as if there was some unwritten rule that everything you could pick up and put in a bag was worth something. If we all work together and help clean up a few of the buildings on Front street, I think we have a good chance at getting rid of these sifters.

Speaking of cleaning up, we should target a couple other areas as well. The baby beach has always been a good place to go if you don’t like big waves. Unfortunately the horned turtles are vicious opponents and taste pretty good. If we push hard to remove them, we get rid of opponents and a valuable resource that these thrill seekers seem to need. I propose adding a mark to one of the many urchins there once a week, something like a gold star. The finder of the golden urchin wins a free meal, or something equally family friendly. I can’t imagine that wading through the warm-friendly-waters, checking the bottom of urchins for a chance to win a sandwich will be exciting enough for these trouble makers.

While we’re at it, we need to clean out the banyan grove of green ladies once and for all, and do some pruning. After removing yet another potential adversary for the yahoos, we should do some landscaping and clean up some of the undergrowth. A few nice ornamental shrubs and some sturdy benches might be just the thing we need. If we install a nicely groomed Ulu Maika course, we’re sure to keep them out of the area. There’s no way that rolling stones between two pegs is going to hold their attention like stalking enemies in the undergrowth. I hear the cruise ship folks are interested in selling their surplus shuffleboard equipment as well. We might want to purchase some of that as well, just for insurance.

Finally, I propose that we finish hooking up the remaining solar panels and batteries to the lights on Front street. Danger lurks in shadows, and nothing compels the overly inquisitive to investigate like a dark alley. Lets light up every corner at night, and take the mystery out of our back alleys. In addition, I’ve already contacted Bruddah Lee about starting walking history tours of downtown. He assures me that he has enough learned Kānaka colleagues that we could have multiple tours going at once 24 hours a day. Just think of it, every question about the old jail and why the particular wood was chosen for the boardwalk explained in excruciating detail 24/7. I don’t know about you, but I choose yawns over brawn .

The time is right but we have to act quickly before this window of opportunity closes. We put in the hard work through the years to make Lahaina the success it is. We can’t afford to let a bunch of weapon toting ruffians take over. It’s our blood, sweat, and tears that got us this far, and it’s time for us to enjoy it in peace. We deserve tranquility. Let’s make our home beautiful and boring again.

STORYLINE

The History of the Kapu Kuialua Dojo

There are a handful of buildings that survived the devastation of the great fracture. Many like the comm tower, serve as landmarks and offer a reminder of the past. Others however serve an important role in the lives of those on the island. The Kapu Kuialua Dojo is one such structure. While The Mission serves as a center for healing, knowledge, and contemplation, the Dojo serves as a place of strength and protection, a place where anyone who has the will and dedication can learn the ancient Hawaiian art of Kapu Kuialua.

Like many martial arts, Kapu Kuialua focuses on joint locks, throws, strikes, and pressure point manipulation. What sets Lua apart, is its inclusion of battlefield strategy, firearms, and ocean warfare tactics. The deadly system was once restricted to Hawaiian nobility and follows the philosophy of “two hits.” A warrior proficient in the style should take no more than two hits to dispatch an enemy. Countless Kanaka have learned to protect themselves and others over the years in the Dojo, but its story is in large part the story of its founder, the legendary Kanaka hero Augustin.

Before the Fracture, Augustin never would have believed that he would become a famous leader and hero. He kept the ancient Hawaiian martial art of Kapu Kuialua alive, teaching a handful of students in his dojo on the beach. While chaos and despair flowed over the island like lava destroying hope and spirit, Augustin remained calm and allowed those that needed shelter inside the dojo. He fed, housed, and protected many during those first weeks, giving the people security and optimism about their future.

The Kanaka discovered that post-fracture Lahaina was a deadly place. Augustin realized that without the tools necessary to protect themselves, the people were doomed. He appointed his old students his 9 Kuma, or teachers. With his oversight: his daughter Anakalia, Wawae the breaker, Blue Huki, The Great Ho’ouka, Miki’ao, Nua Newa, Manawa The Wise, Weapon Master Naia, and Doug would teach their respective specialties to the people, and they would grow strong together.

In those early days, bandits migrated around the island like sea birds, stealing any scraps left unattended and preying on the weak. While Augustin had taught the people to protect themselves from the beasts of the forest and the scavenging menehune, they were unwilling to defy the armed bandits. Every season the people would provide a tribute of fish, produce, and supplies to the marauders to ensure their safety. This system worked well for years until a spring drought and a shift in currents hit the people hard. The taro harvest was a complete loss, and the fishermen’s nets were often empty. The Kanaka didn’t have enough for themselves, let alone the bandit’s tribute.

The elders explained the problems to the bandits when they arrived and promised to give double in the summer to make up for their shortcomings. Their leader listened to the Kanaka pleas and demanded that the summer tribute be tripled. He promised that they would kill everyone if the people were even one yam or urchin short. Before leaving, they killed a fisherman and his family to prove the truth in their threats.

The Kanaka were terrified. Even if the weather changed again and the fish came back, they doubted they could gather so much in a few months. When Augustin heard what had happened to the fisherman, he was enraged. He told the elders that he and his Kumu would handle the bandits when they came back if they promised to never deal with such people, and give in to fear again. The elders agreed and the masters of Kapu Kuialua prepared for the bandit’s return.

When they came back in the summer, Augustin and his Kumu met them, glistening in coconut oil like the ancient Koa warriors, with an empty bag. The master explained that the gardens were still barren and that the fish had not returned to the reef. He told them how these things were out of the Kanaka’s control, and that many were starving in the village. He said, “I understand that supplies are scarce for everyone, that is why I only require this bag filled with provisions and your promise to never return, in exchange for your lives.” The bandits laughed at Augustin’s bold words but they never had a chance to answer his demands.

His first strike broke the leader’s shoulder. His smile twisted and became permanent, as Augustin’s newa club caved in the center of his skull. The Kumu moved without hesitation or mercy. A firearm can save your life in many situations, but on that morning, holding a gun sealed your doom. The Kumu swiftly broke or killed anyone armed with a weapon first. Shots rang out at strange angles as joints ripped apart and bones cracked. Like some sort of horrible mangling machine, the Kumu worked through the bandits until the ground was sticky with blood and their screams became louder than the waves crashing on the beach.

When it was all over the Kapu Kuialua masters had killed over 30. As Augustin filled his bag with supplies, the Kumu gathered the remaining bandits and grouped them in pairs. They broke the arms of the first, and the legs of the second, so they could still drive their vehicles away, and warn others of their kind that the Kanaka would no longer pay ransoms, or live in fear.

The message spread quickly around the island. Many who had heard the story of the masters’ prowess came to learn, including a young man who would grow to become one of our greatest leaders, Chief Ikaika. Even though Augustin is gone, the Dojo between the beach and the “Blood Road” still teaches those brave and dedicated enough the ways of Kapu Kuialua, and how to dispatch your enemies in two hits.

Bruddah Lee
Kanaka Historian

STORYLINE

The Office of Travel brochures and manuals

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The fracture destroyed large swathes of land and a majority of the population, but it wasn’t just lives that were lost. Many of the systems and constructs of society were wiped out as well. The first few years after the accident was an extremely hard time for anyone trying to live, let alone rebuild anything from the old world. There can be no argument that one of the most important organizations to emerge in those early years was the Office of Travel Brochures and Manuals (OTBM). Founded by Ron Kapili sometime in 2052, the office served as an invaluable resource to those trying to repair the damage that had been done and remains an important asset for islanders seeking knowledge today.

Ron spent most of his life tinkering and collecting instructional manuals. Most of his toys had been taken apart and put back together at least once. He built his first bike himself from parts he had printed at Ano Lee’s maker commune in Lahaina. Unlike most mothers in her situation, Ron’s mom encouraged the young boy, and would provide him with countless how-to magazines and owner manuals to the home appliances he seemed fascinated with. Partially working vacuum cleaners, tripped circuits, and the distinct smell of electrical fires was common around the Kapili home.

While he was a wizard with tools and anything electronic, the structure of school was too restrictive for Ron. Failing almost all of his classes, it was no surprise to anyone when he dropped out, and began working at his mother’s thrift shop. If it weren’t for the great accident he might have spent his entire life fixing TVs, and the hand-held games that were sold in the store. Sometimes extraordinary talents are exposed through extraordinary circumstances, and such was the case with Ron.

While many around him sat stunned or scrounged for food in those first few days, Ron got to work. Within days he had fixed the store’s solar panel with his trusty folder of user manuals. By the end of the week, he had a generator working again too. At the end of the month, survivors in the teenager’s neighborhood all had light to sustain them through the uncertainty of the long nights. The boy collected a number of new owner manuals too and began work on the repairable items they belonged to. When he found a travel brochure about tours offered at a nearby aquifer facility his story took another big turn.

Water was at a premium, and up until this point most people had been relying on streams, and the few working wells scattered around the island. While looking at the brochure, Ron recognized the make and model of the water pumps used at the facility from some manuals he had collected. After packing his tool bag, arranging the proper manuals in his binder, and recruiting some help, he set off to the water plant to see what could be done.

To the delight of many, the group scavenged what parts they needed and had 2 pumps working by the end of the day. Word of clean water and the boy with the manuals spread quickly. Survivors from all over were soon seeking out Ron with hopes that he could fix their items, and brochures offering suggestions of places to go next. It became quickly apparent that there was too much work for the young man and his crew. It was then that someone suggested that they set up a place where others could get the information needed to make various repairs, and go about rebuilding places of interest. The Office of Travel Brochures and Manuals was established soon after.

Today the office is a valuable resource to anyone wanting to explore a new area, repair items, or build something from scratch. Physical copies of how-to books, user manuals, or brochures are still available for purchase, but most customers choose to have them uploaded to their Ceremplants. The office will still purchase any pamphlets, flyers, and user guides that are brought in, but prices vary greatly based upon the item’s rareness. For a nominal fee, visitors can get a history lesson by viewing Ron’s original collection in the “Drawers of Knowledge” exhibit that some have called “the most important stack of dog-eared documents to ever be crammed into a file cabinet.”

If you are trying to repair an item, learn a recipe, discover a new area, or just unload a stack of booklets, the Office of Travel Brochures and Manuals should be your first stop.

Bruddah Lee

Kanaka Historian

STORYLINE

How the King Tides and the Night Marchers Are Connected

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There is no doubt that the fracture changed life as we know it. The collapse of governments, the destruction of buildings in the explosions, and the sickness and famine it spread across the land are easy enough to see, but its touch befouled much more than that. In their quest to rewrite the very rules of nature, people upset the balance of the world and offended the land, air, and sea. Freak storms, rumblings in the ground, and king tides that sweep miles inland are now common, but they are not the most feared consequence of our folly. There are other aspects of the world that are not so easily seen. They have their own guardians and protectors who are not so easily dealt with. People have offended the defenders of order and balance with their meddling. They have offended the Night Marchers and they will not rest until order has been restored.

We Kanaka believe that the world is more than just the ground, ocean, and all that you can see. The world is made of many other dimensions: love, thought, light, wind, rain, time, geometric shapes and patterns, all are important parts of the whole. The great fracture disturbed and damaged these parts as well. It is these imbalances in the natural patterns and systems that the Night Marchers now seek to right. Their role as protectors of great chiefs has changed to protectors of nature and order.

Tales of the Night Marchers are as old as the islands and the people themselves. The first documented story of the Night Marchers dates back to the time of Captain Cook’s arrival to the islands. Those explorers brought back tales of the beating of distant drums, horn blowing, ghostly chanting, and strange lights seen at night. The Night Marchers were said to be the spirits of ancient Hawaiian warriors. They would begin their journeys at sunset and would only stop just before sunrise. Their job was not to terrify or punish people. Their purpose was simply to protect high-ranking chiefs from harm and the ensure that the most sacred places stayed honored and remembered. Since the fracture, their roles have changed to protecting the balance of the world and punishing those who would try to travel through the veil.

The Night Marchers have always been tied to natural events. It was said that they would appear with much greater frequency during the final moon phase of the month, heavy rains, or high surf, and so it is today. In this new world the king tides are greatly feared. During the spring, the sea will often sweep miles inland seeking to clean the taint from the land. It is during this time that the Night Marchers are particularly active. Filled with the power of the waters, the Night Marchers reach where the waves are unable, seeking to restore harmony and eradicate those who would upset the Earth.

There are a number of stories about how to protect yourself from the Night Marchers. Our ancestors believed that ti plants would offer some limited protection or that having a deceased relative among the marchers would save you. However, looking one of the warriors in the face meant certain death no matter what precautions you took.

There is a story about a young Kanaka boy who went hunting with his father during the king tides, despite warnings from the village elders. Planning on being back well before dark, the father was unconcerned about their counsel and headed out to kill some deer. The hunting was excellent. It was so good that he and the boy lost track of time and soon found themselves far from home with only a few hours of light left. As they were heading back, disaster struck. A pack of wolves had picked up the scent of the fresh kills and was heading their way from the direction of the village. The man and his son tried to take an angle towards the beach in order to avoid the hungry wolves and still get back before dark.

It quickly became apparent to the pair that the wolves would catch them before they made it. The howls were close and the sun was slowly dipping into the ocean when the broke through the tree line. Their feet pounded into the sand as they ran towards the village. A few hundred yards behind, the first of the wolves appeared and howled his excitement at seeing the running Kanaka. Soon, almost a dozen of the beasts were giving chase. Just when he was about to give up hope, the father saw a group ahead, walking in a line at the bottom of a gully. He yelled over his shoulder for his son to hurry. As they started running down the steep sides of the ravine the father stopped in his tracks and his son ran into him.

The boy could not see beyond his father but he could see the terror in his eyes. “Remember everything I’ve taught you, lay on your belly, and no matter what you hear do not look up,” his father told him. Confused and scared the boy did as he was told. Behind him he could hear the wolves’ paws and their slathering jaws, but another sound soon drowned them out. He heard unearthly screams, the rending of flesh, and the breaking of bones. Almost as soon as it began the sounds stopped. He could still hear walking around him and could not resist opening one eye. He saw blood covered feet and the strangely colored skin of a Night Marcher and let out a gasp. One of the feet stopped by his head and he closed his eyes tightly again. Eventually, the boy stood up and looked around. What was left of the wolves lay scattered around him but there was no sign of the Night Marchers or his father. He told me near his own death that he saw his father again in the same copse of koa trees, with a coterie of Marchers, defending him and the Kanaka from harm. He never knew if his father was taken or simply joined to save him and the village. But since that time, we’ve not had a single death from the viscous boar that root through the forest and the nene cry every morning, waking the Thrivers early and warning them to take heed and change their ways.

Lying still and not looking a Night Marcher in the face in not a foolproof plan however. Agitated by the fractures effect on all 9 dimensions, the Kanaka believe they now consider all people a danger to the world itself. They no longer seek to guard the great chiefs and protect only the sacred places. Their role now is to secure the future of the planet from those that would, filled with hubris, make tenuous the veil between realities. Until the scales have been balanced once again, the Night Marchers will keep marching.

STORYLINE

Lilinoe and Clever Kopono

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The Kānaka’s relationship with technology is a complex one. While they accept the need for science and machinery, most consider the fracture to be a direct result of an unhealthy obsession with them. Add to this the fact that the accident caused severe deformities in many Kānaka which makes working on fine components difficult, and it is no wonder why their heroes don’t interact with technology. Clever Kopono is the rare exception. There are many stories about the resourceful young man and his backpack, but the most well known is about his adoptive mother, Lilinoe.

Lilinoe was a widow and sickness had claimed her children. She was the poorest woman in the poorest village on the island. Her back ached when she walked and she had lost most of her teeth years ago, but she was always caring to others. She would gladly share what she had, which was almost nothing, with anyone in need.

One day while she was searching for a crab to add to her onion water she heard a noise from behind a rock. Slowly Lilinoe hobbled over to investigate and saw that it was a crying boy. The wretch was soaking wet and shivering. A dirty backpack was stretched over an enormous hump on his back. It looked as if the poor boy hadn’t eaten in a week. Lilinoe took off her tattered cloak and wrapped the boy up. She walked him over to the soft sand and asked if he was alright.

The boy said his name was Kopono and that he was an orphan. He told Lilinoe that he had been wandering for weeks and just wanted a place to stay for the night to dry off. The old woman agreed right away. It wasn’t much, but he was welcome to stay in her children’s old room and share as much of her onion water as he could stomach.

One night stretched into two, then three. Lilinoe began to care deeply for the odd little boy who never seemed to let the backpack out of his sight. She asked him if he would like to stay with her permanently and make the village his home. “You won’t have to carry around that backpack anymore, you can leave it in your room,” she said. The boy began to cry and gave Lilinoe a hug. He said he would be proud to call her mom and leave his bag in his room if she promised to never ask what was in it and always knock before she came in. It seemed a strange request but this was a strange little boy, so she agreed.

Kopono began to settle into life in the village. He wasn’t very strong or especially quick. His back kept him from being a good hunter, but he was very smart. He knew a better way to make fish traps and a way to grow plants in balls of moss without soil. Soon Lilinoe had something to add to her soup besides onions, and everyone in the village began calling the boy clever Kopono.

After living with the boy for almost a year, Lilinoe began to hear strange noises coming from Kopono’s room. She would knock and ask if the boy was alright to which he would always reply that he was. He would tell her that he was working on projects with his helpers. She thought he was a little too old for imaginary friends but he didn’t think like anyone she had ever met, so she didn’t let it concern her. Then one morning she heard a different noise. One that excited her.

She could hardly believe her ears at first. She held her breath to hear it more clearly. When Kopono’s door opened the boy was holding her old music box and it was working again. She had no idea where her husband had scavenged it, but he had given it to her on her wedding day. She took the box and stared at it in disbelief. “How did you fix this,” she asked through the tears rolling down her face. “My helpers showed me how to make it work,” he answered. Two hours later a line had formed outside of the house with villagers hoping to have their broken items fixed.

Clever Kopono fixed fans, handheld games, and a pile of other electronics over the next few weeks and word of his abilities began to spread. Usually the Kānaka need to go to the Thrivers to get things fixed and that can be dangerous and expensive. Having one of their people who could repair things was a blessing. Before the month was up everything was working in the village again, including the generator. The village began to grow thanks to clever Kopono.

Word spread far and wide about the clever little boy until one day Chief Ikaika himself appeared in the village. He had heard about the strange little boy and wanted to see for himself if the stories were true. The chief was in the middle of his campaign to clear this part of the island of all the dangers to the Kānaka. One of the drones he was using to keep track of his enemies movements had broken, and he didn’t want to pay the people on the hill to fix it. He asked Kopono if the boy could rebuild it. “I’m sure I can, give me 2 days,” Kopono answered.

The chief agreed and promised to have some more land cleared for farming, and 3 new fishing canoes for the village if his drone got fixed. In addition, he would take Lilinoe as one of his private cooks. She would never want for anything again in her life. With a look of determination, Kopono took the drone into his room and shut the door. The chief left and the village waited.

After not coming out at all the first day people began to worry. Lilinoe knocked and asked if she could help. “No, don’t come in here. My helpers and I will have it fixed in time. Don’t worry,” clever Kopono answered. The tension around the village was almost unbearable by that evening. “Why did we agree to let an orphan boy hold our fate. Everyone knows he’s sick in the head,” shouted a man. “You need to make him let you in there so we know if we should leave before the chief comes back. He’s sure to be angry and punish us if his machine doesn’t work,” added a neighbor. Lilinoe didn’t know what to do. She loved and trusted Kopono but the villagers did have a point.

With only a few hours left until dawn the pressure was too much for her. Lilinoe quietly opened the door and went inside. She saw the little boy sitting with his back to her illuminated by an electric lamp. His backpack was open on the floor next to him and he was surrounded by screws, pins, and a variety of machine parts. The drone was almost completely rebuilt in front of him, and covered in rats poking out here and there. She let out a gasp and one of the rats stood on its hind legs looking at her. Clever Kopono spun around and stared at Lilinoe in shock. The rats all ran into his backpack.
He began to cry and started to attach the last piece of the drone. “You promised that you would always knock before you came in,” he said. Lilinoe asked him what the rats were doing and if he was alright. “I told you, they’re my helpers and no. I’m not alright,” he answered. He turned the last screw and stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “The drone is done. I want you to know that I will always carry you in my heart, but you broke your promise so I must go.” Before the sun rose, clever Kopono was gone.

The drone worked like it was new and Ikaika kept his promise. The village prospered and Lilinoe was never hungry again. When people asked where clever Kopono had gone she told them that the Thrivers had let him attend one of their schools which seemed like a fitting lie to her. She never told anyone what she saw that night, but would often sit on the rocks where she had found him that day. She would listen to the music box and the waves. The rest of her life Lilinoe wondered what happened to her clever Kopono and wished that she had trusted him.