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Bjorkway

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About Bjorkway

Year 14
  • Rank
    Electrified Aimer
  • Birthday 12/13/1996

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    he/him/his
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    Somewhere, probably.
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    Food. Lots and lots of food.

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    Elijah Brockway#5592
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    kalgrochi
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  1. IC: Aclaraung turned his fiery yellow gaze from Ayiwah to the newcomer aboard the ship. Her dress was similar to the commodore's, but rather than the insignia of rank, this seemed to carry a different sort of heraldry. "Charmed, I'm sure," he replied, turning his head away for a moment, peering back in the direction that the empress had come from. He thought, for sure, that he could hear the sounds of yelling and fighting, even through the rest of the noise at the docks. Whatever it was, though, it didn't sound particularly widespread...yet. "Hopefully this island proves hospitable to you and yours." He turned back, now peering at Yumiwa more closely. "But, something remains...strange." He turned back to Ayiwah again, looking between the two. Seeing that the commodore was a female of their species wasn't particularly surprising to him, but these titles...Rora, Empress, those were certainly unexpected. Emperor, perhaps; warlord far more likely. "Even through my foggy memories, I seem to recall that the Dasaka were still far from being called centralized or stable, neverminding the obvious shift in leadership. It seems there's much I'll need to be caught up on, whether those were just stories told to me in my youth, or experiences I truly lived." OOC: @Vezok's Friend @Umbraline Yumiwa
  2. IC: The sheer absurdity of a Dorian body-pillow getting flung from the top of the inn as we walked past was impossible for me to ignore, I'll admit. Especially in the face of that momentary, heartwarming phrase—a sincere moment of friendship only to get interrupted by some sort of grudge. Now, while I didn't expect that, I did expect some of Dorian's normal theatricality to come into play in response. At the very least, some sort of irreverent quip or the like would've been fitting, but for him to go over and nearly start reading off the pillow's last rights was even better. Except, of course, for when I realized that he was actually somewhat serious about it. "Someone you knew, perchance?" I asked as we started to walk on, glancing back at the Dustpool. That Vortixx who had just walked in as we were going by seemed... Well, awfully familiar, emphasis on the awful part. "Do you think they'll come on down to pick it up, or at least retrieve their knives?"
  3. this is still arc two i don't believe the gms the (G)overn(M)ent is lying to us it's still 2015 they can't fool me
  4. IC: Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Their meager column had stopped in the trees. He could hear Shunkyou and others speaking, but care was beyond him; he had been walking all day, with no opportunity to do anything else, or to get away from the others, those who simultaneously pulled away from him— As well they should. —As they drew close, certain strictures only half-followed in the extenuating circumstances, mutual aid momentarily prioritized over the demands of his vow. He cared little; now, at long last, he would have an opportunity to take a moment to himself, apart from those he was resigned to travel with. And so he had stepped a ways away, ignoring the protestations of some young hatchling that sought to keep him confined with the rest. Staff at his side, Long Gigen walked into the trees. He felt the sun overhead as it shone down through the canopy. Warmer here, colder there; the mustiness of moldering leaves rose to his nostrils as he strode along, twigs snapping beneath his feet. His mask vibrated against his cheekbones, filling his mind with a sense of what was about him; behind, the mass of his clan. Ahead, his target. Long Gigen had walked with purpose, to a tree that stood as knobbly and gnarled as the Old Wyrm had so rapidly become; a hard, solid trunk, against which to strengthen his own body. He layed his staff on the ground, and withdrew his focus from his mask, the world drawing apart from him in an instant. Then, there were only the voices a ways off, and the tree he could touch. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Today was a day to focus on his hands. The legs had had enough so far in the walk, so it was only his knuckles and fingers that rhythmically dug into the wood. The dents left in the bark would heal quickly. His hands, too, would bear the weathering with little complaint; this was maintenance, not creation. To properly emulate the dragon, his claws and body would have to be as iron. To make them as iron, he had to train and condition them, continually strengthening the weaker mortal flesh. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. "We may be able to work something out, as we march to the farmlands." Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. "I picked up a thing or not when it comes to medicine in my travels, I'll do what I can." Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. "Broken bones and cuts are the worst of them." Perhaps physically. "If nothing else, they did not think to deprive us of the trees." Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. "Talking with your fists is what you get, isn't it? Come on, then, let's get these issues worked out." "If you intend to duel, I will need to oversee— And I will set the terms." Thunk...thunk...thunk... Stray thought crept past the wall of focus, the rhythm slowing perceptibly at that. Perhaps he should have been paying more attention to the conversation after all. "Fine. I accept." Thunk-thunk. The rhythm slipped, skipping a beat. "Will that clearing there suffice, jahagir?" Thunk. "To first blood, or to one's surrender. When I call it off, it is done." Long Gigen's hand stopped millimeters short of the tree's bark. He relented after a moment, and placed his hand, open-palmed, against the bark, feeling the dents he had made, and knowing that the ancient life at the heart would long forget the assault before he'd ever pass by it again. He gave it a respectful nod of his head, reached down to pick up his staff, and walked again; this time around the wider group, his mask buzzing against his cheeks and forehead again, alerting him to the position of everything in the near vicinity, their forms producing noticeable walls in the constantly-shifting echo pattern. And just as the Old Wyrm's seeming-impatient words rang out into the clearing, Gigen came to a stop opposite him, hands upon his staff, intent on what was to happen in the ring. This was not a matter that he could simply ignore.
  5. IC: Aclaraung's gaze lingered on Ayiwah, wordlessly, for a few moments more, gauging her reaction—not merely in words alone, but in every aspect of her being that he could observe. The measured tone of her words, the determination evident in them; the stoic refusal to budge in the face of his approach, and the evidence of supreme self-control, keeping her gaze focused, breathing steady, without a twitch in the direction of a weapon, just in case. The others nearby, standing ready to intervene at any moment, didn't go unnoticed either—but unlike the commodore, they weren't yet worthy of his focus. Had he come under other pretenses, then perhaps; but not as things were. "Hmmph." Aclaraung drew back from Ayiwah, rocking back to stand near his full height. "If you're as willing to save your people—even from themselves, as it may be—as you are to protect them, then I might just come to like you, young one." The skin around his eyes loosened, and his other muscles relaxed noticeably—had he been capable of it, Aclaraung might even have smiled, as he reached down, grabbing the spear and presenting it to Ayiwah, haft-first. "A gift, commodore, though perhaps a bit undecorated for your position." Present good humor aside, the dragon's disposition seemed to fall for a moment as he waited for Ayiwah to take the spear, before he continued: "I have kept you waiting long enough with these...opening pleasantries. Though there are long years past that remain unclear to me, I know that I am not from this place; from what I can recognize, I wonder if your home isn't mine as well...and if it is, then I fear our history has not been a happy one. It is my hope that I might manage to learn more from you and yours, and endeavour to fill the gaps in my memory; and that, perhaps, the potential of our futures might be one of cooperation, rather than enmity." OOC: @Vezok's Friend @BULiK @Umbraline Yumiwa @Ghosthands (sorry bby i didn't mean to forget to tag you 2)
  6. IC: I resisted my innate urge to go Dorian, please, I'm fragile when he punched me in the shoulder, settling for rolling my eyes and walking along. It was a bit difficult to remain fully attentive on his story while I was focusing on not melting into a sad puddle of Ice Toa in the heat, but his gradual return to the sort of humour and stories I was more used to from him was unmistakable. It brought me a sense of relief, more than anything else; I hadn't seen him quite so serious and subdued since we were standing on the sea floor in front of the temple, talking over a last-ditch strategy to try and help Utu that was honestly more likely to kill Dorian than do anything else— No, I don't still feel guilty about that one, why would you think anything like that? —so seeing him back to his old spirits made it easier to relax and just enjoy the early afternoon. Except for this greatspiritdamned heat. "Hey, Praggos?" I pulled myself back from my other thoughts—and, well, my own near-wretching at the thought of anything to do with eating liver, because of course that part of the story had to stick with me so easily—to look back over at him. "Yes?"
  7. IC: "Certain distant...cousins seemed to think themselves entitled to rule, and were willing to act on that belief some years ago. The Matoran and their fellows showed those kin of mine the foolishness of that mindset. After ensuring they'd never again cause such troubles, it was prudent to remove myself from the thoughts and worries of the villagers." Aclaraung took his eyes off of Ayiwah's, looking up and out at the fleet of ships crowding the harbor. "But the passage of time brings with it new potential, and new threats, and an old dragon can't easily allow himself to fade away into legend through the passing of years." No doubt the implicit threat behind his words was clear to the commodore, and any other Dasaka listening in. Certainly, he had opposed Ignotus and Zarnarax for reasons of pride and station, but it hadn't been those alone. The island and its people had long been replete with threats and short on protectors, and he'd grown nearly as fond of both as he had been disgusted with the Mystix under the brothers' rule. With such half-remembered flashes of battle, the need to hide, regain strength, and the thought of Dasaka hanging over all of it, Aclaraung was wary of extending any certain trust towards these newcomers. "But, perhaps..." He stepped forwards, claws digging yet more gouges into the wood of the dock to accompany those he'd already made in climbing out of the water. He leaned down to the commodore's level, serpentine neck extending over the gangway, head cocked as he took in the details of the Dasaka's face—and as his ears sought to pull detail out of the muffled voices he'd heard coming from the other ships surrounding this one. "I can sense no lie in what you say, Commodore Ayiwah. You do have my condolences—it is a difficult thing to be forcefully parted from one's rightful home." OOC: @Vezok's Friend
  8. IC: Aclaraung watched this 'Commodore Ayiwah' carefully for a moment before answering, though watching the other Dasaka from his peripheral vision, listening intently for all of them, even focused on the scent of the air, for that suddent scent of sweat that would accompany any movement to battle. The Commodore's posture appeared unthreatening for the moment, certainly, but when the sheer thought of the Dasaka drew forth such trepidatious thoughts in him, he had no reason to ignore those thoughts, or trust that they wouldn't feel anything similar. "Ayiwah." Compared to most of the Matoran and their kind he'd dealt with before, this name, at least, felt strange and unfamiliar, even if the name of Dasaka did not. "My name is Aclaraung. I am unsurprised that the Matoran made no mention of me, as it has been some time since last I have been among them. Perhaps I was quickly forgotten...or perhaps that was their hope, that I and mine could be gone and forgotten." No doubt, after Ignotus's actions in Le-Koro, the Matoran had wanted to be rid of the Mystix, even those that had long before been known among them as allies, not conquerors. In the face of such shows of force, trust was hard to come by. And as he turned his eyes slightly, observing all the various beings on the decks of the ships, his thoughts could not help but turn back to the memory of a delusional, conquering imperialist, or the one shortly after who sought to gain through subterfuge what he couldn't through force. Yes, many of the ships were unarmed, many of those they carried were wounded in some fashion, the Ga-Matoran seemed willing to welcome them, but... He faced his gaze back on Ayiwah, though his look wasn't accusatory; simply intent. "There is much I do not remember, Ayiwah, but I know this island is not yours. What, then, is the cause of so great an exodus, even bearing ships of war to a place such as this?"
  9. IC: While Skyra might have hoped that I spent the entirety of the trip agonizing over what a plimbo was supposed to be, somewhere along the line between dealing with her, Dorian, and Utu, I'd managed to learn the skill of just not thinking about certain things. A skill I put to use and just watched out the window while Dorian quietly sang to himself...though perhaps it could be better said that the one thought was simply replaced with another. I still can't believe that the decided to call me the roadie while we were on that canoe. Of course, before long we were in Po-Koro, and I had to leave the comfort of the train behind for the sweltering desert heat. Time to get back to melting. At least it didn't seem like I'd have to do anything official or important. "Lead the way, Dorian." As long as they've got something cold to drink, I'd follow you into Karzahni.
  10. IC: The glide from the slopes of Mount Ihu down to the waters of Naho Bay was neither long nor difficult, now that Aclaraung was able to maintain his focus. Still, where the shock of recognition had left, in its place set in a deep trepidation, one that he couldn't quite place the source of. It wasn't to deal with Xaruthan and Learu; no, he had no doubt that they'd work out their differences, and in time would be receptive to his words again. Certainly he had no worry about the natives of Ga-Koro having a bad reaction to his presence—he'd resided nearby for quite some time after managing to escape from Ignotus and the other Bat-Mystix, and he wasn't involved in their failed attack on Le-Koro, so there shouldn't be any trouble for him there. No, it was something to do with these...Dasaka. That word—that name. It shouldn't seem so familiar, it shouldn't even have been in his mind in the first place, and yet it was. And with it came a sense of caution that was beyond how he'd come to think of the natives of this island. Half-remembered thoughts of weaponry, of a lust for metal, of bloodshed. Almost as though these newcomers carried some stench of death with them. His hind claws grasped tighter around the short, protosteel-bladed spear he'd taken from one of the unfortunate criminals that stumbled upon the mountain lair that his kin had carved out. Perhaps it was to be a gift, for whichever one he ended up speaking with. Or, perhaps, a challenge, a promise for further bloodshed, even without knowing the reason why they brought such thoughts to mind to begin with. Perhaps it would all depend on the reaction of whoever he spoke with, and whatever choice they and their leaders made. No doubt by this point those in the harbor could see him on his approach; even for those who didn't recognize him from his living near the Koro years before, he would present an unmistakable sight. Not some Gukko, Kahu, or Kewa; no, the neck was too long and serpentine, same with the tail, and the shape was too bulky beyond that, and the scales, reflecting light all around him, were too bright. Now, hopefully calmer heads would prevail, and he could reach his goal— He circled once, wide around the harbour, taking note of the ships within it, and the many that were simply ferrying their passengers and cargo in to the docks. It didn't take long for one to catch his attention; resplendent in sail, shining almost like himself as light played against the crystal adorning it, and with one figure who made a very commanding presence upon the deck. The only trouble was that there was no easy landing, between it, the other ships and smaller boats around it, or the wood and lilypads that made up the docks and village surrounding it, which were completely inundated with all manner of people. Hmmph. I hate water landings. Aclaraung turned in to a dive, drawing his wings in slowly, letting them catch just enough air to slow him down. He didn't want to break his neck on impact with the water, or dive straight to the bottom—though he knew that at those docks, the water could be surprisingly deep. Once he drew his wings in fully, he disappeared into the water with a splash, a far more graceful dive than when he'd shot into a snowbank like a speeding bullet earlier that day. Anybody watching would see through the clear waters as he passed beneath the Yukanna's multiple hulls, before hauling himself atop the docks as many of the others cleared a path for the giant creature that had just decided to land in their midst. He set the spear before himself, at the end of the gangway, while he fixed his eyes on the decorated one aboard the vessel. "Dasaka," he called to her, conveying no outward surprise at how...uncomfortably familiar the word felt on his tongue. He hated not knowing things, most of all about himself. "I request an audience with you."
  11. IC: As the other two walked outside to have their morning meal, Aclaraung set about devouring the Mahi he'd captured for himself. Between bites, he couldn't help but notice as their conversation took on a noticeably less genial tone, shifting into an argument within moments. "Faster than I expected," he mused to himself. "I suppose he's coming out of his hibernation better than I thought he might." He bit off another piece as he heard the pair flying away. "Well, they'll get it figured out soon enough." Of course, he hadn't even told Learu that there were some others that he allowed to escape, beyond the pair of them. No doubt she'd be unhappy with the revelation, while Xaruthan would be...perhaps not overjoyed, but at least relieved to know that they two weren't the last of their kind. Another story for another day; let them sort out their frustrations now with him away, and see how receptive they might be to his reasoning once he returned. Though he doubted that either would be whatsoever. So be it; just another burden that destiny has seen fit to set on my back. Once he finished the last of his Mahi, he tossed the remaining detritus in the pit where he'd tossed the offal, alongside tossing in what remained from the other Mahi after he cleaned both of them; in a second more, all the waste was incinerated by his flame. The remaining Mahi—one missing a leg, thanks to Xar—went deeper, into the coldest cave of the entire complex, where they'd wait until one of the few others there beyond himself, Learu, and Xaruthan decided they were hungry enough to eat one. With one last look around the complex of caverns—one that he'd begun to accept as his new home, but which, all of a sudden, felt so alien and so far from home, for some reason—he turned, running out the exit that the other two had taken, diving off the cliff and spreading his wings for an easy glide down to Ga-Koro, to find out just what was going on with all the crystalline-armoured ships and people pulling into the bay. OOC: Aclaraung to Ga-Wahi.
  12. IC: Really, though. A "plimbo." What is that? Perhaps I'll never know.
  13. IC: "I wouldn't know," Aclaraung replied. "By the time I met him separate from the others, he was already predisposed towards grimness, brooding, and the like." He peered at the direction Xaruthan had walked out, head cocked quizzically. "There should be forks, knives, actual pans, and the like in there, if you care to hunt any of them down, though you should probably wash them before use. Some of the scum that stumbled in here after running from the retribution they deserved in Ko-Koro had quite a bit on their backs, and I was loathe to waste any of it when I dealt with the bodies." He dug his claws into the shoulder of his Mahi, but stopped before tearing out a chunk of meat. "Also, I intend to leave for Ga-Koro once I'm finished eating, so hopefully you won't need me for the rest of the day."
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