STORYLINE

Hugh The Hunter Part II

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She says the world ended, that the veils fractured and almost everything is gone. She’s in my head. She tells me her name is Saraphim but I can’t remember mine. I can only remember bits. I ask her who, and where I am. She explains that I was backed up, and she is restoring me, like I’m supposed to know what that means. My restorer says she doesn’t know my name either, I’m HU-3501 in the system, and there was some degradation. She wants me to report any problems I have once I’m out of the chair.

I can finally see. I’m in the Wellness Center. I remember my boss giving us certificates for Christmas but can’t recall her name or where I worked. I step out of the machine but there’s no clothes. Saraphim directs me to a locker that is supposed to be filled with complimentary clothing. I see a problem immediately. There’s nothing in here but flowered shirts, those weird looking fishing hats, and cargo pants. I tell her I find it hard to believe that she has the technology to rebuild someone from scratch, but can’t come up with clothing that doesn’t make me look like a 1980’s tourist. She says that there aren’t many survivors, but they all wear stuff like this now. I get dressed and go outside. I don’t believe what I see.

It’s all gone. Everything is in ruin. Saraphim tries to keep me calm, and tells me I need to go out and tell her what I see. I try to remember where home is. I feel like it’s close, but everything is like snapshots of a movie. She starts talking again about degradation, and something about my parietal lobe. I stop listening because coming up the street is a group of about a dozen people. The first thing I notice is that none of them are wearing flowered shirts or floppy hats, contrary to what I was told. Next, I notice how big they are, and that none of them are smiling. They’re all carrying weapons and the biggest one looks at me, yells something, and raises a huge shark-toothed club above his head. I assume I won’t want to hear whatever it is they are going to tell me, and I sprint towards the ruins in front of me. Then, things get crazy.

I hit something with my shin as I start to jump onto a piece of concrete, and there is an explosion behind me. I feel the hot air lift me up, and I land on a piece of flooring jutting out between the second and third floor. I turn around and see another group of people, also not wearing flowered shirts, scrambling out of the rubble around me. My head is ringing. They start climbing. One has an old rusted pistol and takes a shot at me. I see an opening in the adjoining building, and try to make the leap to get away. As I start to push off the ledge, the whole thing comes crashing down. Somehow, I stay upright, and the debris covers up the people who were hiding in the rubble. I’m in shock about what just happened, and that I’m still standing. Their cheers bring me to my senses. Before I know it, I’m surrounded, getting slaps on my back, and big hugs. It’s like I had just won the lava sledding championships for the Blue Wolves. I try to ask who they are, but nothing comes out. I don’t understand everything they’re saying either, but they’re all smiling now. Saraphim says she’ll keep working on it, but my condition might be permanent. They motion for me to follow, and since they are the first people I’ve met who haven’t tried to kill me, I go with them. The big one with the club says his name is Kanaka.

It turns out that the whole group is called the Kanaka, not just the big guy. Their village is amazing. It’s set along the ocean and has everything you need. The one thing that I can’t find no matter how hard I look, is anyone wearing one of these stupid hats. I soon realize that we won’t be able to communicate with words. With Saraphim’s help I manage to scribble my number, HU-3501, in the sand to see if anyone knows what it is. Nobody does, but they all start calling me Hugh.

They seem to think that I’m some sort of avenging spirit, and I do absolutely nothing to convince them otherwise. We spend days practicing with spears, machetes, and clubs. They have a couple shotguns too, but we don’t use them. I assume ammo is hard to come by. Maybe it’s something about my new implant, but I feel like I’m getting pretty good with a machete after only a few days. Everyone treats me with reverence and respect. I have all the poke and pineapple I can eat, and I get to play with weapons in the surf whenever I want. I can’t fully remember what I used to do, but I’m sure it was nowhere near as cool as this. However, nothing lasts forever and about a week into my new awesome life, a group of well armed people arrive.

Things are tense between the Kanaka and these new people for a few minutes. I think they might be what’s left of the military but they’re not wearing uniforms, or anything that remotely resemble my tourist clothing. They’re all very well armed. Maybe they’re a bunch of preppers. I guess my crazy cousin Ted was right after all. I wonder how many years of liquor he had stored up in his Duracave bunker when civilization collapsed, just like he always knew it would. They want help with something, and my friends agree. Everyone grabs some gear, and they hand me a machete before we head out into the forest.

We end up at a big building that looks like a Halloween nightmare. There’s skulls everywhere outside. Some whispering and pointing begins. I’m not sure what there is to talk about. We better not be….of course we’re going inside. Why wouldn’t we? I feel like we’re the group in the horror movie who decides to go investigate the basement when we should clearly just go home. The inside is worse. There’s heads mounted on the walls, it’s dark, and I can’t think of one good reason why we should be in here. Then monsters come running towards us, honest to god, real monsters. Gunfire starts and the Kanaka start hacking away. I look at the stairs to the left, and run up. I’ve only been back a little over a week, and there is no way that I’m going to get killed fighting monsters this soon.

I find a nice desk to hide under with a view below. My buddies are really slicing through them, and the people with guns are mowing them down almost as fast as the monsters are springing up, almost. Pretty soon they are surrounded, and start pulling back. I stand up to meet the team at the bottom of the stairs, when I see a really big creature knock a desk in front of the door, and block the Kanaka’s exit. I can see they’re scared. That makes me scared. If this thing kills them, I’ll be trapped in here. I think about how good I’ve gotten with my machete, and ask Saraphim if she could bring me back again if something were to happen to me.

She says she probably could, but advises against doing anything stupid. I tell her stupid choices are the only ones I have right now. I jump from my hiding spot with the machete above my head. I swing down as hard as I can when I land, and it almost takes the things leg off. I tumble in front of it, and scramble to my feet facing my friends. The look of amazement on their faces is priceless. I give them a thumbs up, and turn around to look at my handiwork. The last thing I remember is seeing the thing lurch up on its ruined leg, grab my head and twist.

It was not a painless death. Saraphim is not happy with my decision. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the materials to bring you back? These bodies aren’t exactly easy to make.” I get out of the machine and start getting dressed. I guess the flowered shirts aren’t that bad. Besides, it’s like my costume now. I can’t wait to see what they’re going to do when Hugh The Hunter returns from the dead. I start walking back to the village, and Saraphim says, “Please, try a little harder to not lose your head this time.”

STORYLINE

Hugh The Hunter Part I

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There are many legends on the island and many mysterious events every day, but one of the most recent is the appearance of strangers dressed in the clothing of the old. The Kanaka have come to call them “The Tourists,” because of their brightly colored shirts and their large old-style hats. Many of my people believe that they are the spirits of those lost in the great fracture, returned to help the brave and warn the trustworthy of danger. However, I now suspect their presence has a much more technological basis than a mystical one.

The Kanaka had no stories of The Tourists and I personally did not believe the reports until a group of hunters in my village brought one back. We call him Hugh, and many of our bravest owe their lives to his reckless courage. We still know little about his life before, or where he comes from, but he has become an important ally and guardian of my village.

For weeks we had heard the stories. Strangers with strange clothing were appearing across the island. While there are few pleasant surprises anymore, stories of encounters with the Tourists were wonderful. Tales of their courage and deeds spread quickly. Kanaka talked of Tourists emerging from the forest and shooting enemies. A village to the North claimed that one jumped from a hill to attack a herd of boars, who were menacing a group of children collecting shells. There was even a tale of a Tourist who took up residence with a group of Thrivers and made items from the days of old.

It is with these stories fresh in their minds that our hunters went out one day to look for supplies. They planned on targeting the area around the old wellness center, because of the many untouched buildings buried in the rubble. When they arrived, they got quite a shock. Standing in front of the center was a man in a flowered shirt, wearing a bucket hat, with a bag across his shoulder. It was a Tourist.

The hunters stopped and called out. They raised their weapons above their heads and shouted a greeting, as is our custom. Instead of shouting back a greeting, the Tourist ran quickly to a collapsed building to the North. At first, the hunters were confused, this did not appear to be one of the brave and mystical warriors of the past they had heard about. Then the explosions went off.

They had almost walked into a bandit trap, but the Tourist had tripped the mines hidden alongside the road. He jumped just at the right time, and the force of the detonation lifted him up onto a piece of flooring jutting out of the side of the building. The bandits poured out like angry ants and tried to scramble up towards the colorfully dressed man above them. The Tourist walked to the edge of the flooring and the whole thing came down. He rode the wave of debris like he was Layla Kalani herself, drowning the bandits in rubble and exposing an opening in the building.

For a few seconds, nobody moved or said a thing. The Tourist brushed off his clothing and looked at the Kanaka who began to cheer. It was one of the most amazing things they had ever seen. Not only had the stranger saved them from an ambush, he had done it without a weapon, and had opened a way into a building that had been buried since the fracture. The stories about the Tourists were true!

He was unable to speak but seemed to understand us. The only communication he was capable of was scribbling, “HU-3501” in the sand. We called him Hugh. The elders debated what his scribblings meant as the hunters tried to learn what they could from him, but Hugh was clever. He pretended to know nothing about fighting. Like all great teachers, he let his students show him what they knew by teaching him.

So it went for almost a week, when a group of Thriver guards came to the village and announced that they had found Mea ‘ohi, the great trophy collector, using the old train station as a lair. For decades the King of the trophy collectors and his court had terrorized the island and collected the heads of many. In addition to his remarkable strength, Mea ‘ohi was very cunning for his kind and never stayed in one place for long. While it was extremely dangerous, the Thrivers thought that together we had a chance to finally rid the island of the horror of the great collector, and avenge all those he had killed. We looked at Hugh and knew we had more than a good chance with his help. Our best hunters and Hugh gathered weapons and set off with the Thriver guards.

The hunters could tell right away that the Thrivers were right. Skulls littered the steps leading into the station. Inside the walls were adorned with heads of all types. Bear, boar, wolf, and shrig were mixed in amongst the human head decorations. The inside of the station had been rearranged. Chest-high barricades of tables, desks, and chairs filled the lobby. A pair of trophy collectors rushed forward towards the group incredibly fast. The Thrivers got off what shots they could before the Kanaka engaged the monstrosities, while Hugh ran up the stairs.

The hunters dispatched one of their opponents quickly and gave chase to the other, with the Thrivers covering their back. More monsters poured in and the fighting became fierce. Teeth and claws tearing, as clubs swung and bullets rained out. Soon there were so many that even the Thrivers were forced to fight hand to hand. The hunter’s weapons were covered in the vile blood of the beasts, and their arms began to burn, but still, the creatures came, and Hugh was nowhere in sight. The Thrivers screamed that they should pull back and the hunters begrudgingly agreed, but as they tried to make their way, Mea ‘ohi finally appeared.

The hulking terror knocked over a wall of tables by the doors and stood before the remaining heroes. His cracked lips curled into a huge toothy grin knowing that the hunters were trapped inside, and he would soon have more decorations. At that moment, the Thrivers and hunters knew that they would never see their homes again. They had underestimated the creature. It was over. Just as the last of their hope was draining from them, they saw something miraculous. It was Hugh.

He lept from the floor above, digging his machete deep into Mea ‘ohi’s thigh, and tumbled as he hit the floor. The beast fell to his knees behind him, and Hugh sprung to his feet smiling. The other trophy hunters screamed and ran into the depths of the station. Hugh turned just in time to see the monster reach out. Mea ‘ohi grabbed him, and twisted off his head in one quick motion, screaming in fury and pain. Hugh’s sacrifice rallied the heroes. They could not let him die in vain. The Thrivers filled the beast’s chest with bullets and the Kanaka surged forward finishing him off.

Hugh had saved them again, even though it cost him his life. The group decided to leave before the rest of the creatures regrouped, but took Mea ‘ohi’s head as a trophy of their own. The Thrivers thanked the hunters for their help and left to return to their outpost.

While the village was excited that such a terrible danger had been removed, it had cost the lives of many, including Hugh. They gave them all a ceremony fitting for heroes and loaded their remains into a canoe together so that they could continue to protect each other in the next world. As custom, the village stayed up all night sharing stories about the ones they lost, and they wondered what would happen to Hugh. Would his spirit continue to travel with the Kanaka he fell protecting? We got our answer this morning just before dawn.

We were all very tired when he walked up to the fire and sat down. Many rubbed their eyes in disbelief. Hugh just sat smiling and pointed out towards the train station, made a chopping motion, and gave a thumbs up. I’m not sure how or why Hugh is back, but I’m glad that he is. I have a feeling we will have many more adventures

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 Lahaina Merchants Association’s Roadmap for the future

For over almost 20 years I’ve proudly led this group. When I started, many of us were selling scrounged tools and cans of food in dark alleys. Under my leadership I’m proud to say that the consumers of Lahaina may now purchase a wide variety of newly smithed metal items, lifesaving medicines, and fresh foods. Your entrepreneurial spirit and hard work have been an inspiration to me and to our customers but times are changing. The markets are in fluctuation and we need to pivot or run the risk of losing the footholds we’ve fought so hard to carve out.

As many of you know, last month someone was able to restart the global backup connection, and people started pouring in. I understand why some of them have turned to hawking their items. They’re confused, scared, and in a world that is vastly different than the one they remember. I sympathize with them, but I do not condone their activity. We can’t afford to look weak.

If these new visitors are going to conduct business in our territory they should be informed of the rules. I can forgive one transgression especially if they haven’t been enlightened, that’s what penalty charges are for. However, if they continue to disregard the rules we must be ruthless. This only works if we all work together. They need to know how important it is to pay association fees in a timely manner, (a lesson some of you are still struggling to learn I might add).

This is a good start but let’s be honest, it won’t solve our problem. Too many of them are showing up to effectively monitor. The writing’s on the wall and we need to step up our game. We need to come together like never before and show the people of Lahaina that they can consistently get quality products at a reasonable price from any of our businesses. I have a plan in place, but again, it only works if if we all work together.

First and foremost we need to renew our focus on quality. In the past weeks, I’ve heard a number of complaints about the selling of tainted clams, especially along the beach. I’ve talked to a few of you individually about the issue but it has to stop. Worse yet, it’s come to my attention that a number of spears have made it out of shops without fire hardening. We need our customers to feel like they can count on a LMA spear in combat. Their trust in us breaks a little every time one of those spears does. We can’t afford to carry members who cut corners.

We also need to start specializing. With the increased flow of consumers coming from the station stores nearby are busier than ever, but they are also having trouble keeping inventory. I think becoming more specialized fixes both of those problems. If the vendors near the station specialize in food, they can send customers down the road for weapons. The weapons shop can send them to Front street for medicine…..on and on it goes. This will ensure that we all benefit from the new traffic and each business can maintain a proper inventory.

Before you start complaining, I’m not suggesting that you can’t sell ammunition or a dagger if you own a place near the station. I’m just saying it would be in your best interest to make a plan with the other merchants in your area to spread your resources. Let’s make sure everyone gets a piece of the action. As you know, I’ve been working very hard on getting the armory up and running and plan on using it as the go-to stop in Lahaina for all your combat and protection needs. If you haven’t contacted me personally yet about selling weapons in the armory, please do so soon, and I will pass on consignment agreements.

I know there has been a lot of concern about the loss of market share due to the increase of working Reality Machines around the island, but I don’t think we have anything to fear. First, there are only a couple up and running and it’s not like they’re making new parts anymore. Secondly, the products coming from these glorified vending machines lack the quality and character that our handmade items do. Quality will always be king as long as I’m in charge of the LMA. It would be foolish to completely brush-off the danger of these automated hucksters however, so any member caught providing plans to one will be treated as if they were caught stealing from the association. I don’t need to remind you of what the penalty for that offense is.

Finally, we need not only need to get the word out, but we need everyone from the Thrivers to the Kānaka to think of us as family. We need to become integral to the Lahaina way of life. I’ve heard suggestions ranging from a gun raffle, to complimentary canteen fill-ups on purchases over 100 rai, to a preferred customer program. All of these ideas are alright, but I think they miss the mark. We need to get back to what got us here, breadfruit and bodies. We never saw a year like we did when we swept the Menehune from around the train station back in 08. Our Breakfast-N-Bullets event was the largest single day promotion we ever pulled off.

Rounding up some bandits, or better yet a few Night Marchers, and stringing them up in front of some shops and high traffic areas will yield hug benefits to our bottom line. If we add a few strategic luau’s, I don’t see how we can lose. It’s time for us to focus on each other and what matters most, the rai.

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.