EmperorWhenua

hey hey! good to see you around, friend : )

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad The Maru's hand hovered over the coffee pot but he did not serve any or suggest procurement of a mug. The Akiri had not offered them to stay so with the contingent hospitality still not certain the beverage was withheld. There was a sense of deference that Stannis demonstrated towards Renaka that had been noticeably absent entirely for her predecessor. No, he held her with degrees of respect, that much was clear.

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad Stannis, looking for all the world like he's just argued with Reordin about the virtues of a thin crust pizza versus a deep dish pie, seemed to welcome Vrill's timely but intentional interjection. "The plan," he said simply, "was what we were talking about before you and yours showed up." He calmly poured more coffee into his cup and lifted the mug to his pursed lips. "Ask her," he said, nodding towards Akiri Renaka. "She's the chair of this committee. Ah—if you're staying, tea? coffee?"

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad “What was the lie I told the Matoran?” he asked of Muir. It was a simple enough question. "The lie," he answered. "The lie that every person in this room, every person on this island, felt proven false mere weeks ago. The lie that you and the Maru vanquished the Makuta." Once again, the Wanderer sighed long and wearily. Once again, he remembered the past as best he could, scoured his memories for a long moment to recall if he was misremembering things, then and refocused on Muir and his liege. "Is that what is is, the thought that we 'vanquished' the Makuta?" He shook his head. "'You cannot destroy Nothing, but Nothing can destroy you.' That's what the Makuta taunted us with when we fought him in the Mangaia. The Dark One said, 'You cannot destroy me, no more than you can destroy the sea, or the wind, or the void. I am Nothing. And out of Nothing, you came. And it is into Nothing that you will go. The people of the world are Builders, but look into their hearts and you will find that they also have the power to destroy.'" Stannis paused for a moment thence and winced as if merely remembering that instance physically pained him. Ra'lhen likely felt something similar as well, hearing his old master's silvery tongue so vividly brought back to life. "That's what he said. Ask any of the other Maru and they will vouch for me, even my fellows who like me the least—we all experienced it in the same fashion. Now... how can one hope to vanquish something so much a part of you? Something that exists in you and in everyone else you know? I would never have claimed to have vanquished... or destroyed... the Makuta. We defeated him. We put him into a place where he couldn't reach us so we could rest. But it wasn't a full vanquishing. Such a thing would have been impossible against something so powerful as Nothingness. "We put him away in safekeeping, but we didn't know where, or for how long he'd stay there. We didn't understand the whole of it, not even me, not until it was too late. We followed the Second Great Prophesy to its every letter, but none of us understood it, and the keepers of the Prophesy who did understand," he said, speaking of the Turaga, "were not around to tell us what we needed. So we told everyone what we understood: That 'Makuta was gone.' And he was, for a time, but none can claim that they didn't have evil thoughts even when Makuta was away. What was done is done, but it was not our intention to deceive any one of the Matoran." Finally, Stannis had had enough. Before Muir could interject, he held a finger up, calm but authoritative, and settled what he could. "Arguing with you does as much good as me lashing my own back for my mistakes. I am done being questioned by you and answering your questions here. But we, Ra'lhen and Renaka and I, were discussing an expedition into the Dark Walk to do battle with the rahkshi and form strategy against the shadows. You and I may not agree on much, Muirtagh Fenn, but we fight the same Darkness. I give you the option to come with us, and I would be deeply honored if you would fight alongside me against our enemies. And... should we encounter antidermis in the depths, you may even get yet more answers for your inquest on the Kalta."

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad "You want the truth?" Stannis said, his voice carrying an edge but still not simmering. He sounded cool and quiet as nighttime in the desert desert. "The truth is what keeps me awake every night and makes me guzzle café de olla by the litre in the morning. I can't rest because I'm haunted by the actions of people I can't prevent and the fates I don't know about. I am dogged every. waking. minute. by my feelings of regret, and by how I try to shed these coils of godliness but then someone comes around and tells me I'm held to a higher standard because of the Second Great Prophesy. I was Chosen, or so the legends say, but I did not choose to be chosen. "You want the truth? The truth is I wish I'd worked harder to know the things I do now, that I'd made conscious decisions to uncover what I know, but I did not. The truth was handed to me and I, in my mortality, fumbled the kolhii ball. I wouldn't have done so had I worked for what I knew, had I had some intention behind it. But no. "You want the truth? You can't handle it. You're not looking or the truth, you're asking for it on a platter for you to make what you will out of it." And then, finally, he added with a heavy sigh, "I cannot help you find what you are looking for."

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad Stone moved slowly in all facets, it was hard to budge, harder to stop while in motion, and hard to break down. Like the stone that called his heart, Stannis was slow to anger as he was easy to speak. Did Muirtagh think that vitriol and lambasting would garner him the specific answers he sought? the Wanderer wondered. He spoke with a sense of duty-given authority, and some of what he said was indeed true. More than true, it was how Stannis himself felt about himself. Yes, he was fallible. Yes, he'd withheld things from people before. Yes, he was a man like any other. So what did Muir hope to get from him here? "My utility to you seems to be what your perceptions make it to be, Muirtagh Fenn," he said with a sad look on his face. "You see through me but you don't see me, else you would know that I have never called myself divine. People have ascribed that descriptor to me, have given me a prophetic status they saw written in the skies, but I do not like these claims because, why, I know it's not true. "I believe in Mata Nui, I have faith, but there are so many things I don't understand."

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad "You said that you healed Skorm. Or, rather, that you… 'purged the evil inside him, and absolved him of his sins with a litany', as I recall. Care to elaborate? How does one purge the evil inside someone?" Muir asked. “With considerable effort... maybe with a little arcane wisdom,” Ra’lhen thought out loud. Stannis appreciated his friend's remark and let his mind hover over the words for a moment before directing his attention back to Muir. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, struggling to ebb his emotions to word. How does one begin to elaborate on magic? he wondered, for that's what the experience was. Sure, there were simple explanations of Kanohi and wound mending abilities, but that only answered a very literal question. The how Stannis healed Skorm was nothing short of religious melding of Skorm's need to be true to goodness and Stannis' implacable drive to bring fractured lives to fullness. It was a spark of divinity that belonged to neither being alone but to the moment they shared in united purpose. Putting that moment, and the power inside it, to an understandable explanation was not easy, and Stannis strove to be as helpful as he could responsibly be. "As I said, it was by prayer," Stannis said. "Do you believe in miracles, Muirtagh? I do. I believe in the power of Mata Nui in all of us and the divinity of His Virtues. I can't not believe in that. And yet that's exactly what healed Skorm and purged the darkness that gnawed at him. All I did was pray for him and command what was once impure to become pure." It was not a perfect summary, yet it was what he could muster from how he understood it. @Goose @BULiK

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad "Certainly."

IC Yumiwa | Ga-Koro I walked across the pier towards the Yukanna at a clipped pace with Zafin easily at my heel. Most of the Hogo warriors had been dismissed to help their families and clan with their own duties, leaving me mostly with my companions for protection. Well, and me, I had to remind myself, having so easily forgotten that I'd killed in self protection by this point. "Dihunai of the Long, I just got your mindmail," I said as I passed by her. "Come along with me to see this 'dragon'—if that's what it truly is." @BULiK

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad Once again, Stannis sat in rumination for a quiet moment. He had no reason to doubt the investigator's integrity and wanted to provide as much assistance as he could to a worthwhile cause led by a reputable Po-Koro citizen, but there were limits to his ability to share what he knew with Muir. Knowledge had interesting properties when applied improperly, as Stannis had discovered since the Makuta's defeat, or, more accurately, placement in storage. Not telling his teammates and friends about Makuta's actual fate damaged their sense of Unity and threatened lives, but just so, oversharing information could be dangerous if it were misapplied by others. Conclusions based on here-say and well-meaning but misplaced intentions could be just as dangerous. Barring what Skorm had done in Ga-Koro while under the influence of antidermis, the Toa Kalta seemed to be honorable, albeit quirky, protectors of matoran who'd taken up shop in Ko-Koro with newly-elected expat Akiri Tarkahn's blessing. While Reordin didn't suffer them much, it didn't take a lot to get under Reo's greaves—all one needed to to was wax philosophical about 'glorious purpose' or wasted his time while in line at the deli—so his dislike of the Kalta was taken with a grain of salt as far as Stannis was concerned, at least until there was evidence of real wrongdoing. Could there be? Stannis wondered, then realized not. He'd have heard of it from less nebulous sources if that were the case. If there was some 'client' who'd hired Muirtagh then the detective was working on behalf of that person's interests, not simple common good. Still, Stannis wished to help despite being aware of his own fallibility. It took a lot of his willpower to keep himself from selflessly continuing the conversation down Muir's likely myriad of thoughts. If there was more to the Kalta inquest to beggar further inquisition, then Muir would need to elaborate. But stone was slow to move and harder still to change direction once rolling, and Stannis had made his mind up. "You'll have to forgive me, then, for not going further," Stannis admitted to the detective and his... companion. His perceptive eyes picked up a slight tensing as he sought to absolve himself from the situation, but he calmly continued to explain his reasoning. "You asked me about Kalta Skorm's stay in the hospital and my interaction with him, and I obliged with my side of the story in full, but I do not wish to mislead your investigation or your client with knowledge I cannot certify to be fact. As I said, I am not an expert on antidermis. If your clue directed you to study hospital notes then perhaps records made by the medical professionals would be better for your case. If you wish to consult with me again after gleaning what you can, then I'd be happy to fill whatever blanks you have." @Goose

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad The Wanderer bit his lip and considered what to say next, then cleared his threat affirmatively and said, "Just one moment. I have answered your questions in good faith so far but you have raised my concerns by focusing intently on this dark material, so before I go on I want you to tell us just what this is about."

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad "Not in person," Stannis corrected. "I've investigated the substance in the Dark Walks, seen the after-effects of its use, and heard stories about antidermis. It's my duty to understand the mysteries of this universe to combat the darkness' influence."

IC Yumiwa + Zafin | Chiisai Ryuu "Okay," I said with a long exhale. It's a dragon, probably. And if not and this is a veritable Breyer-soko-turned-Trojan-soko then at least I won't be alone. I stole a reassuring glance at Zaf. Don't get carried away Yumi. "Let's go up, then."

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's Pad "Muirtagh Fenn, please know that I am not a... epidermistologist. But if my observations of antidermis are to be taken at face value then it seems Antidermis does effect the soul." He paused thoughtfully, understanding Muir's terror-ridden tone given his hometown's history, but he said nothing more.

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad Stannis began with a qualification statement, saying, "Sure. Much has happened since then so the memories are somewhat dune-hazed and I am sometimes slow to remember things, but bear with me and I will retell what I can recall." It sounded dull like a terms and conditions clause, but while Muir's Rode was not able to detect the Maru's intent he was able to detect the complete lack of duplicity in his words. Stannis, for his part, was finally on to the fact that this was an inquest regarding a case he had no awareness of. Just so, while Muir's interests were opaque and undoubtedly far-reaching, so was Stannis' knowledge of the island's mysteries, and if this was related to the Toa Kalta Skorm then there was much mystery to regale with. It reminded him in no small part of his recent transaction with the Toa Brykon, where one man held the upper hand of a bit of legal paperwork and an dangerous purpose and the other held only the burdens of expectation and ignorance, only this time it was Stannis who was at the decided disadvantage. He blinked, the only outward indication of his meandering mind, and thought on the irony of the situation. Oh, how the turnstiles have... wait, how does that idiom go? How the turnovers... turnt...? Whatever, he acceded, instead finding more joy in the regional colloquialism equivalent that went, "How the dunes shift." The landscape of Po-Wahi was ever-changing and what mound offered a good promontory over the wastes one day was just as like to be a sand pit the next and he appreciated the somewhat romantic, fatalistic ode. "I suppose the best place to start is at the start, then. It was morning, earlier than now, and I'd been awoken from my sleep by knocks at my door—you see, that was when I had a door—from a nurse I knew. As I recall, my mind was still quite shrouded by dawn's mist so I did not understand much of what the nurse had to say as she babbled and rambled at the speed of mahi, but one word of hers made crystalline sense to me: 'Antidermis,' she'd said." He sighed deeply, looking back on what happened next. "I did not know who the infected was yet. It could well have been a caravaner or local who fell for one of Ahkmou's evil pranks, akikanalo tamer caught in a place of shadow, or a meandering warrior who'd pilfered too close in the Dark Walk, but I followed after the nurse to investigate and help however I could. Antidermis is not a substance to be underestimated by any. I remember... as we came close to the hospital's doors her steps paused and her voice slowed, perhaps feeling that there was sufficient hope with me present to tarry a moment, and she finally managed to tell me who was within the ward. "Now, I didn't know much of Skorm. Our paths hadn't crossed before, though I knew the name at least because of, not despite, the Kalta being a more recent arrival to Mata Nui at the time, though I recall Kalta Kalyss sought him out in passing. Nowadays I know they reside in Ko-Koro, though I don't think that was the case back then. Skorm was just another name I knew, but at that moment he was suddenly a soul in need. The man I found lying on the gurney was a shade of a toa-hero, looking feverish and wasted from within as ichor black as tar wet his blankets to a nighttime sky's glisten from wounds at his hip. "When I reached his side he asked me what I wanted, but i told him truly, I wanted nothing. It struck me that the question asked of me was from the perspective of a man who'd been stolen from, not a thief himself. It reminded me of other darklings I've encountered, ones touched by the taint of Makuta to do his bidding despite their best intentions. Such vileness deprives the soul of breath and makes the heartlight beat faster to keep the body replenished, but it's all for naught. It only hurries the wasting. I didn't know what Kalta Skorm had done immediately before—news from Ga-Koro hadn't reached us yet—but I knew the possibilities of atrocity were endless. "He said it was that green piraka, Zaktan, who'd dosed him with liquid green malice at a previous crossroads and then let the stuff take its toll on Skorm and take root in the toa's mind. He wanted to kill people, had killed people, and wished to do harm to me at the time. His physical injuries he said had come from rahkshi and an Abettor—powerful robotic guardians deep in the Mangaia—but he said nothing about how he'd come to Po-Koro. I offered to help him, but what he told me next disturbed even me. He said, 'I have been broken in so many different ways, Mata Nui himself couldn't help me. You're free to try.' And try I did." The Maru's hand stretched out, imitating his hesitant gesture as he'd reached to caress Skorm's kanohi on the bed. Memories took time to form in Stannis' mind, intricate and vast as they were, and for him it was akin to imagining great engineered monoliths come to life as if they were in a stop-motion film. Stannis did not think to recall but rather felt the memory be relived. Depending on the memory this could be either a benefit or a detriment as the vividness of each was a double-edged blade. The kinder memories, such as the triumphant emergence from the Keeping Place or the thoughtful gestures of friendship between the Maru, were fond to recall whereas the more traumatic memories like the Makuta's haunting reprimands and the stealing of Turaga Nuju in a vortex of darkness remained as terrible as when they were first lived. The healing of Kalta Skorm, however, thankfully fell somewhere in the middle. "I purged the evil inside him and absolved him of his sins with a litany. I remember Skorm came to his feet once healed of his physical injuries but he was on his feet where he could not have been before, and within him there was... a burning light that scorched the blackness in him. He looked to be burning up from within, breathing in heaving gasps as he regurgitated a dollop of bright green fluid from his lungs and passed it upon the floor where it boiled away to nothingness without its host. And then he became still as his eyes grew alight with what was later related to me as a... a reckoning of what he'd done. He looked horrified. He said, 'What have I done?'" The Maru leader sat still on the memory, brows knit in consternation as he still pictured Skorm's face from the moment frozen in time. Finally, he exhaled long, deep, and hard and returned to animated "I did not wait around much beyond that, leaving the rest to the medical professionals as I went home to have my cup of joe to start the day for real. That was what happened."

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad Ah! A question. "I do," Stannis said. "What would you like to know?"

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad The Maru intently listened to Muir, but he said nothing in return. His grey eyes, pearly orbs set on his brown mask, drank every detail in about Muir and his silent companion in the corner while remaining warm and kind. As far as Stannis was concerned, Muir was a Po-Koro citizen who was worthy of not feeling judged or dismissed out of hand by the toa who swore to protect and serve the community, so he offset his serious posture with a slight smile, enough to lightly squint his eyes and show the crows' feet creases at the sides of his face to demonstrate his companionable intentions. It slowly dawned on him that Muir had raised his voice in the characteristic lilt of the interrogative tense that marked the terminus of his sentence with an invisible question mark—there had been a question asked, just... not a very good one. No, Muir had left things very vague and didn't state the actual question. Curious. Or perhaps it was simply the way detectives worked, Stannis wondered. He didn't really work with many detectives in the past and when he was in the Ta-Koro guard he was not part of the investigative unit, not the crime team at least. The closest thing to a detective he'd known was Reordin, and he was a stellar example of the brusque approach to law enforcement, hardly the same as asking leading questions. No, Stannis recognized what Muir's pause meant: There was more to come. Stannis hadn't been asked a real question, so he answered with nothing. He smiled expectantly. @Goose

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's pad "Is that so?" Stannis said, knotting his brows. What could this be about? he wondered. Surely this wasn't related to the business with Brykon—that mission had gone according to the akiri council's command and there was no reason to pluck at that scab anymore, unless there was civil suits afoot as well? No, that's not it. It was some other business that cased this intrusion, and the Wanderer had to admit that while his mission to the Massif was most recent in his mind there were innumerable other mysteries that could stir both inquest and investigation. He glanced at his village leader as he spoke, seeking her assent and hospitality for business that would surely be of interest to her. "Well then. With... Akiri Renaka's permission, I will gladly take your questions in the presence of current company." The Maru leader set his mug down and placed his hands upon his lap to give his full attention to the visitors. "Ask me your questions, Muirtagh Fenn." @Silvan Haven @Emzee @Goose @BULiK

IC Stannis & Brykon | The Massif Flint and Steel, Part 1 It was quite nearly evening when the Wanderer awoke. The fire crackled with liveliness and its bright orange flames mingling perfectly with the late afternoon’s dim sunlight across the parlor of the keep. He realized that he was not where he’d dozed off at and was instead nested cozily on a broad recliner with a veritable mountain of blankets over him. Brykon must have moved him from his seat at the hearth, he realized, and he briefly thought with bemusement of the big man picking the Granite Guardian up with ease as though Stannis were a sack of rice, before finally swaddling him on the chair facing the fire like some hapless babe or infirm patriarch. The kindly giant was hospitable as he was strong, and deserved the world of respect. Just so, the thought was dashed as soon as it came about as Stannis was reminded of his duty and how it would betray the host’s trust. A panicked spark in his eyes shone and he scanned the room for his satchel, and then faded when he found the bag neatly tucked just an arm’s reach away. But the anxiety returned an instant later when he realized the clasp had been unbuckled. By whom? he thought, not recalling opening it himself and wondering if Brykon had snooped inside for a peek, but he hadn’t time to process that fact when the wooden spiral staircase groaned from weight as the house’s denizen stepped down and entered the parlor. “Welcome home, sleepy-headed Maru. Welcome home,” Brykon cheerily rumbled. The casualness was unnerving but Stannis found himself falling for the man’s mirth and smiled heartily in thanks as he was handed a mug of mulled wine. Suddenly, all his woes had faded like cobwebs burnt away. “My messengers gave word of success in Ko-Koro,” Brykon said as he sat down on the hearth and stoked the flames with a poker. “It’s true, then? The cabal is done for?” “True as we can make it,” Stannis confirmed. “Echelon is dead and his organization routed from the city. A new akiri has been elected, and while I have my misgivings the choice has been made and Ko-Koro shalln’t fall to darkness again.” He sipped his wine, sweet and indulgent; it burned with spices, pepper and cinnamon. “Or so Tarkahn promises.” “A fool’s promises,” Brykon murmured as he absentmindedly played with the logs, “because only fools promise peace and security.” Matoro said the same when he was leader—‘Peace through Willpower,’ he’d said—and yet, look what happened to him? Brykon thought. Matoro had been killed by his own lieutenant, a victim of schemes hatched within his own halls. Even in the Massif Brykon knew better than to give a full oath of his guardianship’s effectiveness, and while he promised to do all he could to keep the village and its holy places safe and secure it came with the qualification of his own fallibility. He was walking in the footsteps of Toa Antrim, and even that disciplined protector was able to be ultimately destroyed by a foe he underestimated despite his wisdom. How could Brykon be any better than Antrim, or Matoro? Or Nuju, Stannis thought, lost in his own mind but sharing in the same fears as Brykon. Nuju, the very same elder who christened Stannis as “The Wanderer” and set credibility to the path he’d already started on. Nuju, the great man who Brykon murdered. And Brykon, the kindly host who gave Stannis warmth and comfort. The toa-protector continued to play with the fire, realizing what Stannis’ silence foretold and refusing to speak of it. That was a long time ago for him and he’d tried to forget the chapter of his life when he’d been a marionette in the Peer’s plots and done their chaotic dirty deeds. Bad Company had been a scourge on the world, a monstrous war carriage Brykon had held the reins of, and in many ways his role as guardian of this High Place was an act of penance for the crimes he’d committed. It was a paltry excuse for an expiation but he sincerely believed his cloistered life in the neutral principality of The Lord was what was best, and that good—insofar as he was able to—was what he needed to do for atonement. For his part, he embraced his role in The Massif with all his heart, dedicating his power and will to protect his wards and the settlement’s monastery while maintaining its neutrality and trade routes. Neither knew how long the moment had gone on, both toa stuck in their thoughts about themselves and the other. Knowledge was a terrible thing when without purpose, and it left both men all too aware of the other one’s meandering mind but utterly without meaning. What was the point of remembering the past when there was a willful intent to avoid it? What was the point of knowing someone—truly knowing—if no action took advantage of it? If it were a contest of mind games between the two men Brykon would be the undeniable victor, but to Stannis’ good fortune the spymaster had no intention to play because he was tired, recalcitrant, and wished to move on. Just so. “You’re uncomfortable and I can tell it. Is it because of me?” Brykon asked. Stannis blinked and chose his words carefully. Was he wise? he thought, then stole a glance at his bag and saw the cylinder half spilled out of the sachet and still neatly sealed in wax. No, Brykon was not the wiser. He was asking questions, the right questions, in complete ignorance. Stannis nodded, but it was an answer to a different question altogether. It was because of Brykon, but where the Toa-Protector had it wrong was in thinking his role in the monastic village as keeper of its original founder’s legacy was of concern. It was because of Brykon… his criminal past which, while forgiven, still required justice. “Yes,” he responded at last, and then quietude took over again. … Eventually, conversation resumed. Brykon invited his guest in a supper as night fell on the land, talk flowed of affairs near and far away, but finally finally his curiosity was piqued. “What is it you have there?” Brykon asked and pointed to the satchel, one hand stretched out to it and the other holding a goblet of wine. "You were very protective about it even in your slumber." “A deliverable,” Stannis answered truly between bites of stew, “to be delivered to you.” His brows creased and knotted against each other in concern. Mock concern? Stannis wondered. “And what sort of ‘deliverable’ would require entrusting to a Toa Maru for safekeeping?” The Maru, for what it was worth, stared implacably back at Brykon. “Lord Brykon,” he said in a stern, unwavering tone, “dispense yourself of the ruse of ignorance. Let’s not make this any more dramatic than it already will be.” The toa-protector sat back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. He knew what it was, what it had to be, as improbable as it was certain: The warrant for his arrest for crimes against the Matoran, the ones he’d danced around earlier but tried to ignore as best he could. The council of akiri, which until recently been embattled by petty feuds between their domains and Ambages’ machinations, had finally taken the opportunity to begin their process of justice for their fallen elders, and while the warrant may have borne Akiri Tarkahn’s signet stamp it truly had been issued by all six of them—most of whom still remembered the day the turaga were assassinated like it was yesterday. Dorian had to be the one to tell them the story, tipped them off to the killers; it had to have been Dorian because he, more than any of them, had the heart and conscience to do what was right. If it was anything less fateful, Brykon would have been proud. He knew what the deliverable was, truly had been expecting it for a while, but for some reason he did not anticipate it to be handed over by the island’s holy man and—he’d even venture to say—a friend. “You have a funny definition of dramatics, Stan. Now spit it out as well.” The Maru’s leader stared at Brykon with even, steely eyes that drank up every detail. Here was the man who’s stare people shirked away from, Brykon thought; here was the man who could look at Makuta’s servants and be implacable as a wall. “It’s a warrant,” he said at last, and then clarified, “for your arrest.” “I expected this to be handed down by Dorian Shaddix, or Toa Reordin of Ko-Koro, not… the fabled Granite Guardian. Isn’t this a little outside of your jurisdiction?” Brykon questioned, though his heart was not in his own defense. “I serve all of Mata Nui’s folk, just as the six Akiri seek to represent them. They needed someone to deliver this sentence and I volunteered,” he said with a shrug. Who best, after all, to deliver the verdict against The Massif’s protector than the strongest progeny of the Massif himself? Brykon sighed, long and deep, and took another sip of wine. “Give it to me after dinner. Let’s call it my ‘just desserts.’” He winked. Stannis couldn’t help it but think, just for a moment, that the worst was already behind them, that the arrest had been made and they could both move on from the horrible eventuality. But time took its toll regardless, and as the pot of stew grew meager and the wine carafe was drained so did their list of excuses to delay the inevitable. At last, Stannis rose from his seat, pulled the flap of his satchel, and removed a scroll with a bright white wax seal. “Under the directive of the council of Akiri, I am to arrest and bring you to justice your your crimes, specifically: Complicity to the murders of Turagas Vakama, Nokama, Whenua, Matau, and Onewa, the murder of Turaga Nuju, and crimes against Matoran.” “At last,” Brykon said, “the hammer falls.” He broke the seal and read his warrant. His eyes lingered on the words 'dead or alive,' realizing just then that mercy was not a given. He stole a glance at Stannis Maru, sizing him up for the first time as an adversary, and then settled his gaze back on the letter that spelled out his doom. When he was finished, he let it roll up again and then set it on the table softly. "We can't do it here," Brykon said. "There's too many onlookers, it would make a mess." "Not in the village," Stannis concurred. "I'm here to arrest you, not disrespect you. But the trawler town in the fjord, not far from here and within the Massif's protection. You know of it?" Brykon nodded, but said, "Never been," looking sullen at his empty goblet like an hourglass running out. "Well, there. Come dawn?" "Mmmmmm."

IC Yumiwa | Chiisai Ryuu "And I would hesitate to doubt my cousin's gullibility as well," I thought out loud. "The only things that makes me cautious is the Fursic schemes against my mother and how this would be a draconically devilish trap to do the same to me. It's obvious the Empire is at a precarious point." My nerves shivered with trepidation as I considered just how fragile the nation I governed was, how any roadblock could be the death blow to the Empire, and how thin the Umbraline ranks were already. If the Fursic plans—pans within plans within plans—had extended beyond even my imaginations, it was not impossible for them to consider murdering me now in this faraway place and then come from hiding to usurp what was left. And with Toroshu Nera presumably perished at the hands of Desde and a recalcitrant Inokio, that snake Sesseta could well be plotting a vengeance. I'd been fooled too many times already for me not to be afraid. I swallowed hard and shrugged animatedly, an overtly casual gesture to mask an inward shudder that rolled from my knees up my spine. I was afraid just as much as I was excited. "Anything could be something other than it seems, you know?" @Ghosthands

That was also the gist of Arc 1. History is a cycle.

IC Yumiwa | Chiisai Ryuu Double telescūpe! I thought to myself in fascination as Tazera adjusted the optics to my needs, but my excitement for the periscope was overshadowed by what I hoped/expected was on the other end of the optic. Dragon!!!! It was actually hard for me to contain my excitement at the prospect of meeting an actual dragon—if this was in fact one of them. Not a Kanohi Dragon, not quite in the same vein as my heraldic symbols, but for all intents and purposes a dragon in the same spirit, or so I hoped. It was actually funny, a crazy random happenstance, that I was seeing what looked to be a little dragon from the "Little Dragon." "What's your assessment, Lieutenant Tazera?" I asked, handing controls of the optics back to her. "Do you think it could be an illusion?" Zafin gestured that she didn't need to take a look, realizing that her abilities to discern through an illusion were limited and preferring to wait until we saw things with our own eyes.

IC Stannis | Po-Koro, Renaka's Home "Black tea it is," Stannis said, handing off a mug of piping hot leaf water to the other. After the two spoke and allowed a break in the conversation Stannis politely interjected. "The Makuta's followers and armies are scattered for now," Stannis thought out loud with a nod that dipped his olfactory sensors over the lip of his mug. "At least, here on Mata Nui. This outfit that occupied Ko-Koro was the last organized front the dark one had here and now they have also retreated to the shadows to lick their wounds. Had they succeeded in holding the icy city things would be far more dire, but for now we can afford preventative measures. Shore up defenses. Plug holes in our walls. The Dark Walk is far more of a liability than an asset to us now." In times past, Stannis considered the function of the Dark Walks as a sort of direct avenue to strike at the Mangaia if ever needed, and then eventually he changed that tune to think of the subterranean roads as an early warning system. The functions of those Walks had always related to the Makuta in some way, and while there were some who thought there could be some infrastructural use of the roads, such as in connecting the Koro even more so with veritable highways, Stannis hesitated to consider the yawning absences as anything less than a double-edged sword. Presently, he thought it would be better to simply seal the tunnels and guard it in case of future incursion, to use it as a fortification but not rely on it for protection. "Sooner is better," he added to his toa-brother's cause. "I believe it would be in our best interest to eradicate the rahkshi threats and then close the Walk with a toa seal—a full seal would be ideal, but Reordin and Oreius can make one that would do fine as well—to prevent the Makuta's insurgencies from surprising us in the night or risk overconfidence in our own vigilance. Renaka, inkeeping with the greater sense of unity between the villages, do you know if the other akiri are considering strategies with their own portals, similar or otherwise?" he asked. @Silvan Haven @Emzee

IC Stannis' House Muir's shrewd detecting detected that the hearth was still warm and the remnants of his morning coffee on the bottom of a ceramic mug that said "Best Wanderer Ever!" had not dried yet. Stannis was nearby. Very nearby. He could even be right behind— No... that's just a signed cardboard cutout of Toa Reordin.

IC Yumiwa | Ga-Koro I pursed my lips, then turned the corners of my mouth up into a thin smile. Long Dihunai would wait, just like everyone else. “Lead the way, Tazera,” I urged.