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About Razgriz

Year 11
  • Rank
    Defender of Mata Nui Defeated
  • Birthday 08/25/1996

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    dragging casuals to fridgetanamo
  • Interests
    freeing joe son

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  1. IC: Inconspicuous Potted Plant, 小さい竜 (Chiisai Ryuu) Interior See, the thing about disguises was that it was all a game of confidence and commitment. A lesser saboteur, a two-bit infiltrator, a crashing-rather-than-dashing thief would have broke the moment that commandeering looking lady from before had inevitably doubled back and taken notice. Their hopesrent asunder by a thread being spotted, they'd inevitably panic, break illusion, mouth off, and alert the entire boat. Rudra knew this well. Rudra also knew, with complete surety, that he was no such amateur. Juuuust a plant basket, ma'am. All he had to do, as the green-sashed (Commodore?) Dasaka reached forward, was act as a plant and box would act. Feel the boat. Time the sway. This isn't unsalvageable. She'll get bored for sure. She has more important things to do in that bridge than mess with decor that doesn't even have its' source around to make an example of. And once she goes into that open door, he'd get a known quantity. Simplicity itself, even a toddler could do it. Having spent many days out in the waters near the village, Rudra had his sea legs as sorted as anyone, feeling the waves lapping against the side of the docked submersible through his feet and hindquarters. When the boat, no matter how crystalline and fancy it was or was not, swayed— His teeth met his bottom lip from within the image. "ffffffft." He'd mimicked the sound of bamboo sliding against rock, or at least a best guess at it, as he scooted himself and his illusion just out of the reach of the stately Dasaka's fingertips. —things swayed with it, naturally. Foolproof.
  2. IC Long Shunkyou (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): "Mm... Yes, this will do." Flat, firm earth there, judging from the grasses that grew. Framed by the trees some rough 25 feet apart, it was neither claustrophobic nor so open as to encourage running— not that either was to do so as he read things. Lii was too prideful, her furor too genuine, and her courage too bottomless. Nihonei was in turn far too focused on completing her objective, too willing to sacrifice if it meant smoothing this out now. No, they wouldn't run. They would use this makeshift ring to its extent, he was sure, but neither would dishonor themselves or the other by turning tail. All that needed to be done was ensure they could both walk by the end. "To first blood," he called, motioning for the two combatants to follow him as he marched forward to the center of the clearing. "or to one's surrender. When I call it off, it is done." He breathed deep, summoning the faint embers that still simmered beneath his heartlight, and concentrated them to his right leg, a compact pattern of energy appearing above it. Foot cloaked in the Scales, he dashed it against the earth sharply three paces from the center, drawing a line. Six paces opposite. The same swift kick, tight and economical as it carved through the top layers of soil. Even carelessly drawing lines in the sand was something to be done with propriety— contained within its own power. "Now then— I haven't got all morning."
  3. IC: "Umbraline Sinshi", 小さい竜 (Chiisai Ryuu) Interior Putting it mildly, the young man wearing a young woman's face was about ready to burn something once he'd squirreled this big 'ol thing outta here. Not for any lack of his own handiwork— the Mahiki was more than pulling its weight. Any time he passed "another" Dasaka by, their friendly smiles and throwaway greetings towards Umbraline Sinshi only served to bolster his confidence that he'd nailed this one. His heart had initially skipped a beat when making his first contact with the crew, a serious, crisp looking woman with an aura of command (and ornamentation to the crystal armor, looking back on it) extremely similar to the Commodore— he'd have clammed up if she spoke, but all she had to offer him was a quick, acknowledging nod— and then her footsteps, thunderous within these tight spaces and bulkheads, rolled on past him towards the pair coming up from behind. If he hoodwinked her, then call this bit a hole-in-one. However, It's really gotta be some roast duck or goose or something nice like that. Whatever Spirit looks out for me's really done me solid. My spirit star has the blessing for today. As he meandered through the ship, checking up on the inner workings through just as much happenstance as referring back to the sparse, minimalistic diagrams posted within the ship for the sake of the crew, he had somehow just as often simply evaded notice as "managed to hold up to it". A turn of the back at the right time to look at something he thought he saw in the wall, a creak on the ship prompting a gaze to turn away by reflex as he passed an intersection, a door ajar just so— it was like an invisible hand was just nudging everything the right way to make this easy on him... And nobody got anywhere resting on their laurels, did they? If today was lucky, that was the time to squeeze it. He sauntered up to bulkhead just before the the bridge's entrance... And found a closed door, blocking his path towards greatness. Huh. A closed door begging to be opened by an entrepreneurial Vo-Toa, who by all means was riding the hottest streak of the past three years. Huh. He glanced once, twice, three times at his surroundings. Nobody yet. Behind the sound of the waves lapping against the hull, he didn't THINK he heard anyone coming... And tested the handle, jiggling it roughly, before stepping to the side, crouching fully, and activating his Kanohi once more. Time for my most powerful prank. If somebody was in there, and felt like investigating, they would no longer find the prim, proper, ramrod back of Umbraline Sinshi, nor her fine-featured Calix— Instead, if they elected to look at the floor (for whatever reason one would) they'd find a simple overturned basket, hiding the bundled-up form of Rudra from view within the image of expertly weaved bamboo in the Ga-Koroan style, with a small potted bonsai plant resting atop. A tasteful, foreign decoration to spruce up the samey, drab interior he'd been rambling through. This was foolproof. It was a shame Mata Nui made him so smart— these poor aliens didn't stand a chance. Who'd want to knock the nice plant over? The tasteful, sandy browns of woven plant fiber that somebody'd manage to swipe off the locals? They'd never even think of touching it, never come close to the ruse! Sure, he was pretty scrunched up and stuck on a knee to fit in the illusion reasonably, but such was a small sacrifice for expert subterfuge. It's just a stupid little basket from the docks lyin' around, nobody's gonna suspect that!
  4. IC Long Shunkyou (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): "What I will say is that they descended upon us from the slopes that rose past our Temple," came the nebulously elder's response, cloaked in a tightness that belied hidden bristling at a perceived barb now being reexamined by a cooler head. "For all I know, the demons themselves are the ash manifest, twisted against the world. Perhaps eruptions from Koshiki take many forms— but I am certain they fell upon us. I was there for it, in the last moments we lived there. The question of 'how' is as elusive to me as it is you. Perhaps it is not meant for us to divine right now." He snorted, unclear as to the victim of his disdain. Saritsu, the imperial whose words betrayed a mind slower than the mouth, unknowing in how her emphasis could be construed as insulting? Lii, for her hot head and old grudges overshadowing the fact that she was keen upon hampering her potential eternally by refusing healing? Nihonei, boldly taking a stance and seeming to jump into traditional Long culture from the standpoint of an academic, dissecting the person in front of her whom she had only met? Himself, for burning out before this journey had begun, now only vague in his authority to right this ship? Who could say? Perhaps it was all of this. Perhaps his bones simply creaked in a way he did not like. This one doubts evenm he would be able to tell you. What was clear, however, were the words he spoke— whatever prompted the gesture mattered less. "If you intend to duel, I will need to oversee— And I will set the terms." He did not disguise the pointed look he gave Lii. She knew as well as him why— it was in her nature. "If such is agreeable, then we simply need find clear ground." He refused to buoy the idea that it wasn't.
  5. IC: Making mice of strong men was the role of striking the body. To drive the wind free, break the rib that caged the soft tissue, rupture the liver and force autonomy to flee a body before even consciousness— this was the technique at its height. Place it perfectly, and strike with authority, and even giants fall to their knees. This Skakdi, the crimson half of the Ash Lads, was not quite a giant. Good connection. On his knees. No rules— Get him Out! Jolek had nonetheless placed his well. The rush he felt on the approach had him now. Before thoughts could scramble to catch up, the body moved. His opponent before him had doubled over, groaning as his side lit in protest as a set of stone-hard knuckles crashed into it with drilling force before just as swiftly releasing— the rebound doing further trauma as everything within returned to place. Even as the Skakdi collapsed to his knees, Jolek's feet were mobile— floating a half-step back, stance maintained as the mass of red crumpled in his wake. An afterthought, Jolek remembered in his conscious mind, was apprehending this guy. He should definitely make sure that was done. His body, meanwhile, reached for the back of the criminal's skull with the free hand, pulling it forward— As a flush knee to the temple rocketed up to meet it, taking advantage of full, practiced technique and kinetic chain. The rear leg was the source of the strike, allowing more space, velocity, and weight transfer as the driving force up from the ground activated the hips. They carried said weight fully, extending forward as he rose to the ball of the foot on his standing leg. Not enough to compromise balance, clearly— he wasn't an amateur. But enough to maximize penetration. Even technical minutiae, such as the pointing of the foot on the striking limb to "sharpen" the knee (focusing the impact onto the point of the femur, not the front of the quadriceps nor the free-floating patella) as it landed, were in place as a matter of course. It had been immeasurably long since that even needed to be thought about, a matter of "consideration" as opposed to being the full breadth of the "action". Thinking was slow. Too slow. Purity of technique was the pursuit. It was lifelong, an endless spiral that pressed tighter, tighter, closer, closer towards the singular point of infinity. He had walked this Way long, and was to continue walking the Way for yet longer after this. That meant engraving your accumulated training into things deeper than mind. Deeper than thought. Deeper even than the muscles, which read what the eyes saw and moved the ways they had hammered into them on only reaction. The Soul. Drabnak was unfortunate for running into someone like him, perhaps— But he had made his choice in risking this fight. If this landed flush and stunned him, Jolek could quickly bind his hands together with magnetism— perhaps the best use of his meager ability with the element. Then it was all but certainly a three-to-one.
  6. IC: "Umbraline Sinshi", 小さい竜 (Chiisai Ryuu) Gangplank Problems with that idea quickly popped up. Namely, he found the smaller boat about 45 seconds after setting off away from the big one— and that dragon man's booming voice, going on and on about long memories with Alien-shaped blanks in them and the Matoran wanting to forget about his people (no kidding), was still very clearly audible above the clamor and the lapping of the waves. If they heard him, they'd probably hear Ayiwah too— So, taking her identity was a bust when it came to getting aboard that sleek, shark-shaped hunk of crystal. Which sucked, sucked horribly— more than even salivating at the thought of what treasures could be inside a technological marvel of a ship made of crystal, he also just wanted to know how the thing worked. What went on in there? What was that? What was that? He had to get in. He really wanted it. But his plan had snapped clean in half as quickly as it had formed. Those two... four... six guards would literally need only working ears to bust him, and he wasn't a buffoon even if he otherwise knew in his heart he could sell it. Especially those on that bit sticking higher than anywhere else— they'd more than likely still see her, too. He hung back, melting into the people milling about as he pondered how to salvage this. Circuiting the street, he moved behind a corner, cutting line of sight— Okay. I can't do Commodore. Who else would be let on the ship? Somebody... from the first wave, right? One of the ones that come and go pretty regularly. Who've I seen that— A bolt from the blue struck, as his mouth opened in an "oooooh." of dawning comprehension within the shadows 'tween buildings. As a burgeoning, nascent thief, debonair and ambitious man coloring outside Ga-Koro's lines, he'd gotten to paying more attention to the Marines as specific obstacles rather than as faceless civil servant peacekeepers who stood around and sometimes drove off Rahi. With the whole downturn in atmosphere the island had gotten since around when the aliens had gotten here from wherever their island was, the Marines had been more active than the lax years beforehand— he'd seen a lot more of them, at least. Maybe serendipity, maybe making his own luck, maybe something much bigger, but all the same, they'd jacked up their patrol time in general, never you mind the foreigners. One such figure among them— Whitehot Munequita. He'd never had any personal run-ins, thank the Spirit, but she was showing up early and often (for her) to the docks back when he'd still gone out to try his hand as an honest fisherman ever since the Dasaka had made landfall. Near as he could tell, she was one of the first responders when they'd barged in, and Hahli'd more or less just decided that the statuesque, striking Toa of Earth worked as a good liason between them and Ga-Koro's structure. One of the reasons for that was the alien that'd almost immediately become attached at the hip with. A sorta tall, sorta lean, sorta quite pretty Dasaka with a Calix... Who'd been fresh off that boat. No way she wasn't allowed in. Probably their advanced scouting force, he knew that she had to handle herself in a fight— Munequita never suffered wimps. A smarmy Toa of Iron had told him as much over drinks— well, Rudra was drinking, the Warrant Officer was downing a girly looking strawberry sundae with shameless abandon. Point was, he'd heard that the woman was a hellion fiend for physical training— nobody like that would be so smitten with someone helpless. Also yeah actually she has like two swords Alright! That made this much, much better— plan was back on board! Get it? His Kanohi glowed, and his form swiftly shifted. ————— The guards of the Ryuu's gangplank, some three or so minutes later, was treated to what by all means had to have been a familiar sight. A slim, pretty Menti, sword on either hip (one sparkling with soft cerulean hues of some nameless crystal, the other with a polished metallic sheen) and a straight, confident back emerged from the procession, marching up to the low-seated ship like a woman who had somewhere to be, even if she wore an easy smile on her face. They glanced at eachother momentarily, noticing something off. Something missing. He was pretty sure he knew what it was. He hoped he knew what it was. Oh man, if he didn't know what it wa— "Good morning, Umbraline Sinshi," one spoke up, thankfully giving him the girl's name (he'd never cared to catch it and remember before like right now). They maintained their stiff decorum for an instant longer, before that same sentry's eyebrow quirked behind her...Sssssanok, he figured, with a now more familiar tone. "No Whitehot?" Good guess, Rudra! "Long night." 'she' responded, throwing in a sly wink. "You know? She needs to sleep it off." The two guards glanced at eachother again, before looking back to the smug Menti before them. "Nice." they replied in unison, sharing smirks. No kidding. Smokeshow of a cop. "To what do we owe the pleasure, then?" the opposite asked, looking 'her' over with a little more intent. "Something from your old quarters you need? I thought you had cleaned it out moving." Go ahead, verify all you want. The Mahiki's good enough that I even sound like her. All I need to do for pattern is some total marine hardcase knocked down a couple notches because of two months off. Be shocked if that isn't close. "Yeah," no sense not taking what he'd been given. "I did as well, but there's something I can't find over there. All but turned it upside down looking, so this is my other option. Any issues with that?" A beat passed, before the guards nodded, one allowing herself an almost imperceptible shrug. They couldn't seem to find anything wrong with the person they'd seen before them, and they knew Umbraline Sinshi well. 'If it looked like a Soko, walked like a Soko, and whinnied like a Soko,' and so forth. "Go ahead— might as well grab it before you two're stuck minding some diplomacy meeting now that half of the Archipelago's here..." she said wanly, dissatisfaction creeping in. Yeah, that was fair. Rudra could, pretty easily, get why nobody wanted to be standing around. They had dragons swooping in, families that they hoped were making landfall, big shots running around (if that luxury liner behind the Yucca-guy was any indication)— all the perfect reasons to not wish standing guard on anybody. In the same breath as that, though, those were some pretty good distractions in their own rights— enough that a Sinshi-lookalike and soundalike must have been easy to sign off on for a mind that was drifting elsewhere. They looked almost haggard, really. Crisp from afar, but now that Rudra had seen them up close, it began to make sense. They led 'her' to the hatch atop the upper portion of the diving ship's completely enclosed hull, pulling it open after engaging what looked like some fancy corkscrew mechanism. "Thanks." 'Sinshi' said with as much grace as Rudra could muster, before ducking inside. OOC: I've consulted with @Krayzikk re: NPC reactions up to this point
  7. IC: Kellin, an expatriate who'd lived and plied his loudmouthed version of the mining trade in Onu-Koro before switching operations to the cold caverns of Ko-Wahi, wasn't hard for the Ussalry to identify after a quick perusal. He'd been a miner here first— and after a few seconds of carefully monitored shuffling, he'd produced an old hard hat that the senior of the two guardswas, much to his chagrin, quick to recognize. He breathed in deep through his nose once they'd passed through unaccosted, accompanying it with an old nostalgic stretch of the back. "Whew, there's that must air you can taste— nice to see nothin's changed here, at least. We riding out to the market with the plunder, or are y'all hijacking my crab for other errands?" IC: My gills have never felt so good in donkey's years. I missed the dense underground air— Plus, Sami's still doing well at the guard post! Haven't seen him since we left, glad the Ussalry life treats him well.
  8. IC: Rudra, Ga-Koro Streets Ffffffwhat. The Vo-Toa spat out his last remnants of fruit as an honest-to-Mata-Nui dragon came swooping down from the skies, diving into the drink and making a big old show of swimming below the boats and to the nearby pier before demanding audience with the newcomers. This drew the attention, naturally, of whole heaps of crowds of people. Rudra was one of them, filled to the brim with thoughts of his own on this development as it played out. Firstly, who the karz thought it was okay for mythological beasts to start walking, talking, and carrying spears? They were scary enough without civilized brains, and this was coming from an animal lover— And secondly, the tall, slender woman who'd rushed out to the prow to confront this thing on that giant ship was a Commodore. It had certainly gotten its audience. "Commodore Ayiwah", was the name. Pronounced AYE-WAH. Maybe AYE-WUH if you slurred it. But probably AYE-Wah. Capitalizing was likely a little unnecessary, plus he hated yelling. But he'd seen that Commodore before! The first day the aliens had landed, like two months ago or something— she was one of the ones who'd come out of that much smaller boat that sat really low on the water. He'd even heard it could dip under the waves— that it had risen out of them like a hunting Tarakava on its initial approach. What kind of crazy tech did that even take? ...Buncha people'd want it, right? Onu-Wahi was full of tech dudes, Po-Koro'd gotten themselves a navy (however THAT worked, rocks all sink and there certainly wasn't anything else in their heads), Ko had gotten new leadership who could use it... Her focus was on the dragon talking at her. Rudra's focus was on her. Her face. Her gait. Her cadence. He had an idea. If she was on the Yucca-whatever, then that'd have definitely been a bust. He'd been eyeing it up before all this like a side of fatty meat, anything that big and shiny and full of people taking their old home to a new world with them was bound to be full of treasures untold— but when that dragon landed, alert naturally would have had to be super high over there. That ship was buzzing like a Ga-Koro Marine in front of a strawberry daquiri now, and with a dignitary of such high status there, anyone remotely close to the gangplank was probably toast. But if she was there, then that naturally meant she wasn't elsewhere. Like that little shark-looking submarine. But she could be. She was also definitely allowed to be many places where a random Vo-Toa wasn't. Where in the docks did they stick that little guy, again? It was pretty close, naturally, but he was also sure port traffic had put a few native caravels between the two. Let's go hunting. He began to walk, as three eager and amazed bystanders filled his wake to get a closer look at Imperial Dragon vs Literal Actual Dragon.
  9. IC: Rudra, Ga-Koro Streets Fun thing about visiting dignitaries was that they drew themselves a good bit of attention. Fun thing about landing refugees was that they drew themselves whole HEAPS of attention. And confusion. Confusion was big. Inside confusion little details get lost— a face here, an outfit there, a name or phrase or bundle of widgets in a pocket... "Hey— Didn't I have four of the— Ma'am! You've gotta pay for that! SOMEONE CALL THE MARINES!" Maybe not a ripe fruit from a street stall. Shame, he was certain the Le-Matoran running things was too busy gawking at all the new and sparkly ladies that were running around. They'd commanded a lot of the attention this morning, and a whole congregation of them had seemed to flood the Great Takea as they'd exited their big sparkling ship (Yuca-something-or-other was what he'd caught it getting called), enough to clog up seating and take out any room for a meal. Oh well. Stumpy little legs couldn't keep up for terribly long when faced with a Skakdi's stride, and the crimson brute quickly ducked into a dim back alley. Anyone giving chase would have just enough time to see her grinning face (which kind of looked like one of the aforementioned establishment's chefs, come to think of it) check back over her shoulder before diving into another corner and presumably out into an adjacent street— Yet all that perpendicular alley produced was a Vo-Toa, hands in the pockets of his jacket and what looked like a Hau on his face. That's the meal settled. He'd gotten fairly good at simple shenanigans like that a while ago. Turning into a holding pattern... Was getting pretty boring, honestly. Sure, it put a nice bula in his belly and sometimes some widgets in his wallet, but it was beginning to feel like going nowhere fast, all over again. Didn't want nothin' to do with that action. Did it once, wasn't for him— he needed to up the ante. A local smith had some nice looking swords up on his racks just the other day, Rudra remembered. He wondered what one of those might go for— And what he could do to grab one for himself. Taking a bite of the sweet flesh he'd pilfered, he mulled over it as a Marine ran past, searching for a big red thief. Helpfully, he pointed down the alley he'd come, saying he'd been nearly knocked over by someone shoulder-checking him on his way out. Maybe one of the new and sparkly ladies were worth gawking at, though. Crystal trinkets definitely were worth a nice little stack... And it wasn't like they knew Mata Nui too well yet, either. Somethin' to that idea. Options, options.
  10. IC Long Shunkyou (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): His gaze turned downwards as they spoke, two heads of clan with more important things to worry about than the petty quarrels between those that spoke Imperial or Vulgar Taa. Ushering a hatchling forward, Shunkyou minded the words floating through the air, mostly in his direction, as his Noble Sana gently glowed while he focused on the scratches— No, real cuts to one who is so young— beneath the Toroshu's bandages. Urging her to tread lightly on the leg for the next ten leagues, the procession moved onto the next, a cracked shin. "A way will be found." he stated to Saritsu, blunt and between deep breaths— showing the young woman how to calm herself while the younger of the Eiyu set her bones in a makeshift brace. "In the worst case, your capital may have burnt the bridges to the seat of their power to check the advance of these demons, but such is not an insurmountable obstacle." He waved a hand flippantly, gesturing around them. "If nothing else, they did not think to deprive us of the trees."
  11. IC: Motion, like so many things, came natural to those that lived by it, even when said life had rotted down to a stump. If stagnation was enforced by facade, then this was the genuine thing bursting forth, a starburst explosion that burned away the clouds hanging over, lifting a veil on the soul. Great Spirit, he'd missed feeling his blood rush a little. The fire crossed through his heartlight and out to his extremities like a wave, a lightness that sharpened his every facet just so. Why couldn't everything be this nice? Doing that civic duty stuff was necessary, sure, but... Does it have to feel like such a chore? The crash of steel on steel rang out against the trees as a thunderbolt from heaven dropped onto the Skakdi's blade, a hew wrought of orange-tinted silver that crashed upon him. Jolek beheld the strike with a rough grunt, halfway to a growl, of exertion as sparks burst from the grinding blades, forcing his weight and strength into the sword. In truth his swing wasn't terribly remarkable— he'd always had more experience with knives than swords, chopping meat or brush instead of combatants. It showed in his form, that much he knew. The Ta-Koro "standard" equipment was hardly something one could say genuinely existed, but their shortswords were just on the edge of being the closest thing to it— and had so far worked out alright when one just treated them like a particularly straight machete. No points for technique, but body mechanics were universal— and the red Skakdi's seemed to be holding, even as the Toa bore down on him, sink in the hips forcing the brunt of his weight behind his strength. He was strong. Was this guy stronger? Maybe. Maybe he was doing something wrong. Either way, he was also close. The Fa-Toa gave up on the bind, letting the Skakdi shove his sword back towards the sky— And truly entered his world. He stepped in on a shallow angle with his left foot, letting the rebound swing his arm, then shoulder, then torso back— And his white-knuckled fist, formerly a free hand, rocketed towards the Skakdi's liver in a compact, crushing left hook from the opposite side. With the head so fervently protected, you were free to brutalize the body. Fighting 101. Now this was more like it.
  12. IC Long Shunkyou (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): He in turn, seeing the offered peace, made no show of turning it down. "That's good. My Sana isn't half of what it once was. Medicine will do much more paired with it than either could manage apart— Lii," he called, gruffly waving the aforementioned Menti forward, young Yu still perched atop her muscular back. "Help me get those with fractures to the front. They're the ones who the walk is bearing down upon the hardest." After a moment, scanning his charges, he turned back to face the Eiyu sisters. For a brief glimpse, not more than a flash, he allowed the weathering to show on his face. "You've my gratitude— I'll personally ensure your safe passage the rest of the way, so long as these kids make it to safe ground." With a breath, he let it pass back under his usual composure, nobility and duty guiding his bearing. "Until Koshiki is rid of this pestilence, it appears we are more than ever destined to meet and live amongst your people. I am not in the business of letting debts hang over our heads— nor am I keen on being blind to my neighbors."
  13. IC: Kellin, ever helpful, snorted. "I bet we coulda blown him—her—Makuta up real nice if we'd had any idea all that was even coming. I've got—" Aaaaand paused, And looked for a moment at Leli, bedazzled and bejeweled and only somewhat beleaguered by the journey, now about six seconds shorter ever since her escapades at the edge of the city of lilypads. Luckily, he'd convinced her to chuck the package into the drink before their destinies came at a depressingly quick turnaround from their previous, currently-discussed destinies. "I had enough Stralix to blow anything that smirks at me like that sky-high to meet the makers themselves. Big Judicious just had other ideas for us." "Tell you what, though—" he continued, letting naked, performative surliness creep into his tone. "It just goes to show that when big Kell comes a-knockin', even Toa get scared. I bet you my bottom widget the six of us coulda done damage."
  14. IC: Cipher - The Rockwall The streak of searing sunlight tore through the calm blue skies, impossible to miss if you were anywhere short of being blind. There was no chance my little signal flare wouldn't garner a reaction from the Marines posted on the fortifications at any point in living memory— let alone within these tense few weeks that passed since Ko's invasion and subsequent recapturing. "Be seeing you." And if it somehow didn't, the Toa of Sand wearing my Calix that'd promptly leapt outta the brush and started hollering at the aforementioned Stationed-on-Posting sure would. I waited a few moments for his words to float through the air between us and my destination, delivered with enough bombast to blow those iron gates wide open— and the showmanship he'd treated me to nearly out of the water, to boot. Three. Then a faint sigh, followed by a costernation-filled Ga-Koro accent. He'd gotten their attention enough for a dialogue— Two. And attention enough for me. One. A spray of sea foam, and a crash of parting water erupted from the bay as he really worked to seal it. We're live, folks. Let's jam. I narrowed my eyes and focused, squinting them at a point just atop the dome-shaped roof of the light chamber itself, high overhead of the many stone bricks that made for fortification, and by consequence the disgruntled Marines posted within and upon them. Now, I'd never used a Kualsi in my life, as previously stated, but once you learn the method of activation for one Kanohi, I was pretty sure you'd learned them all. The effect's strength is a product of conscious determination, but activation was like using a muscle or remembering a tune. In my case, I cocked back the hammer in the recesses of my brain that functioned for purposes of breaking realty's rules, took a single breath longer to get the feeling of where I wanted to end up down, and pulled an invisible trigger. We all have our metaphors for it. ffft-POP And I was once there, suddenly here. It kind of felt like my stomach was turning upside down, maybe in the same way freefall does, but that was fine. More than a worthy trade-off for suddenly ignoring an easy few hundred yards of distance all told. That said, this wasn't the easiest ride in the world, either— I had my own work to do to keep this adventurous little romp from turning slapstick. My left hand shot out to the side, grabbing hold of the metallic flagpole as my feet touched the weathered metal of the rooftop, the main line of defense against a season's worth of storms. It took'em a second to find purchase, given the structure— mostly smooth curves made for a fun balancing act. But, I'm not a rookie, and I've also been in enough stupid incidents near the village of water's architecture (at least twice) to not flail around like a newborn up here. I pivoted to the other side, switching grips on the flagpole-and-weathervane as the turn on my heel kept me in place. I shoulda seen it coming, but that warp had kept my bearing the same. No idea if it was due to my own ignorance or just by design of the mask, but that moment of adjustment had probably given my partner down there ample time to verify that I'd gotten up here as he'd conjured up an arm of wet sand from the shallows below. Buffeted a little towards the center by the wind, I shot my guy a brash thumbs-up with my free hand, before dropping into a low crouch. I've also had experience with fighting breezes. Won't say how or why. If you know, you know. Before anything else, though, I needed to make sure I wasn't going to be dropping into a whole cadre of now-extremely-annoyed Marines guarding the giant lantern itself— I'm not dumb enough to think that my entrance was totally silent, just dumb enough to think that a lot of light and a lot of sound in the other direction could mask it, provided a culprit looked like they were there to source it. I crept forward in my new low profile, gazing out over the side back onto the scene with Verak and the Marines, and checking for sound, sight, or sign that I had a few of my own to worry about up here. Or the better way to put it— how many were up here, worrying about me.
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