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BULiK

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  1. IC: Vrill [Ko-Koro, Alley] I get that you have your own target. Vrill's stare lingered. This was unfortunate. He stood through the speech, letting it pass over him without getting caught up in it; Fenn's strategy was shortsighted and less comprehensive, but any retort would be merely semantic. Besides, it didn't matter if Fenn risked underestimating the team's counter-intel opposites; as long as Vrill didn't do the same, there was some assurance of preparedness for any possibility. Regardless of how the cards fall, you're more likely to come out on top if you're playing two hands. A beat passed after Fenn fell silent. It was true that from Stannis and Cyrix's testimony and the public records they had scoured, the duo didn't have a complete picture of what happened in between Skorm's rampage in Ga-Koro and his arrival on Stannis's doorstep in Po-Koro. Vrill understood that the official marine reports might elaborate on Skorm's last activity before he had the clarity to seek out the Maru monk as a spiritual healer... But the special agent couldn't see what the missing piece was. The surrounding tiles all blurred together into the wider picture. Theories bubbled up to the surface, but Vrill didn't have a clue which synchronized with Muirtagh's perception of the possible. "Elaborate," he ordered. The tone was mechanical - a procedural reflex.
  2. IC: Vrill [Ko-Koro, Alley] "A Toa who isn't desperate wouldn't try to find out what we're doing by pretending he already knows it, nor would he bring in someone nominally outside his team for backup." Vrill paused to blow smoke, letting the unspoken implication note the further lines of inquiry: just how close were ties between the Kalta and the Cultured Gentry? By extension, how connected was Tarkahn to the Gentry and any of their numerous crimes, both provable and accused? Vrill's mind always traced back to the endgame; the Kalta, Antidermis, the Gentry... while intriguing problems, those investigations were subordinate to Vrill, means to his ends. At the end of the day, he had a job to do. That's why Korzaa relied on him for her riskiest and most discrete missions. "Priicu only told us Cyrix was on our trail - now we know he's on his own, on a limb, and out of leads beyond direct questioning. What's important is now that we know how little he knows about our scope, and that we just set the narrative. His next leads are tailing us (a manageable risk) and Renaka's investigation, which is above board, and would more than likely waste his time, keep him out of our picture, if he chases it." Another exhalation bridging a pregnant pause. The Cy-Toa watched as the hot bubble of gas leaving his respirator battled drifting snowflakes. The minuscule clumps of ice were pushed aside as it expanded. The collateral damage to the Wahi fell faster to the street below, accelerating as the singed crystals melted into denser, more aerodynamic droplets. Their structure had been holding them back. The unique crystalline fractals offered strength, but diminished their flexibility, creating the drag that lead to their aimless flutter. As soon as one snowflake melted, it brought the cluster down with it and began melting its partners, accelerating their impact. "Benefits of getting Renaka's stamp of approval. Didn't even need to bluff on that one - good prep," he complimented with an appreciative nod. The benefits of working closely with someone with such different proclivities - more pathways to victory. Not that there weren't any downsides.
  3. IC: Frii'Glokk [Ostia, The Dancing Crab] "So, you're interested in joining the Infernavika, is what I'm inferring?" A nod. "You ever worked on a ship before?" The armored eyes twitched at that final question. He was silent for a moment, the measure breathing absent amongst the room's many background noises. After a pause, the skakdi leaned back against the wall, armor creaking. His eyes glowed brighter. "Welding."
  4. IC: Vrill [Ko-Koro, Alley] "Surprising," the obsidian-coated agent casually remarked with a frozen demeanor, filing the confirmation away in the dossiers of his intuition. The events had been unexpected, but Muir's analysis was not. "Niici wasn't even on the list of backup I figured Cyrix would bring. He's desperate." "When you were out of the room, he asked about how we're connected. Why Renaka's using PIs instead of sentinels. While now we know which parties we're dealing with, might need to make this more official to get closer to the truth, even if it means crossing paths with both of them more often." "Someone in Ga told me once; 'to learn to swim faster, you gotta swim with the Takea...'" The Cy-Toa withdrew his lesser vice, tapping away some ash that stained the snow beneath him. "This thing just grew, and we need to adapt, roll with it."
  5. IC: Vrill [Ko-Koro's Most Peaceful Spot] After a brief nod towards Priicu, the Cy-Toa was merely a smoke break away from the building's exterior. As his heatstone fingertips finished lighting the rod on his tongue, Vrill looked up to Muir, who was assuredly on the brink of smoking himself, albeit in a much more metaphorical fashion. In a storm of lies, the Kanohi Rode was a lighting rod. Like the unpredictable, jagged paths of lighting bolts, those unveiled lies were indiscriminate in origin. Vrill couldn't be entirely sure how many bolts traced to him nor if any of their implications had cascaded into a wildfire - he would have to wait for the thunder and smoke to reverberate. Vrill took a drag with closed eyes, focusing on the distinct tracker of obsidian within Cyrix's heatstone. That shape rippled on the edge of Vrill's mind as he felt that sixth sense - above to the side. Near enough to be sure that the Le-Toa was in the district, but far enough to not be in earshot. Leaning against the wall of an alleyway behind Wise Man's Archive, Vrill and Muir could speak freely. The alley offered some privacy in and of itself, but the real boon was the less biting winds than the wider streets of the Koro. "What'd you ping?"
  6. IC: Frii'Glokk [Ostia, The Dancing Crab] With the shuffle of metal on metal as joints heaved, the Skakdi's arm blaster returned to its previous posture. It clanked against the cuisse that plated his thigh, mirroring his true arm in supporting the Skakdi's forward lean. Although he was sitting on the the wooden bench that made up a row of dingy half-booth tables, one could be mistaken for believing that he merely chose to sit down and the timber happened to obstruct his path. It was a still, balanced pose, both patient and impatient, as if he was frozen in the process of getting up or sitting down, yet ready to use all limbs to propel himself upright if necessary. His eyes remained affixed to the stranger. OOC: @Void Emissary
  7. IC: Frii'Glokk [Ostia, The Dancing Crab] The answer to the Le-Toa's question rose between the two. It stopped stone-still in front of the Toa's chestplate, the eerie proximity of the prosthetic weapon dissuading any further leaning. Skewered at the end of that answer's sharp blade was a question of its own. The paper's dragging edges twirled the wisps of smoke in the air after a minuscule delay. "You the fella I'm looking for?" Aside from his bad (or good, depending on your point of view) arm, the Skakdi hadn't moved a muscle. Nothing about his casual posture or deep stare seemed to mesh with the fact that his gun-arm and its associated bayonet was raised in between him and the toa - there was only a complete nonchalance. OOC: @Void Emissary
  8. IC: Frii'Glokk [Ostia, The Dancing Crab] Deep breaths echoed through the helmet, brushing past the vertical slats that covered the narrow mouthpiece to grate the bar's musky air beyond. They were almost mechanical in their precision, as if each volume of air had been meticulously measured in a great bowl, and much focus has been put into controlling their otherwise meaningless timing. Vaporized sweat turbulently curled in contact with the hazy aftermath of cigars. The exhalations paused in preparation for an answer, although the fully encased husk was as still as a statue externally. A few moments after the Skakdi's blue glowing optics pulsed to face the approaching Le-Toa, he replied. "Louder." he slowly echoed. Not as a question, moreso to chew the word, as if is passing through his own tongue was proof of its tastefulness. "In a sense," the stranger agreed, sentence hanging on for a qualifier. "What beckons me is beyond the ocean."
  9. IC: Frii'Glokk [Ostia] Swish. Clang. Crunch. The pedestrians of Ostia parted, pressing up against the cliff walls of the narrow streets, for among them, a statue marched. Matoran slowed, Toa's eyes narrowed, Skakdi grimaced, and Vortixx raised eyebrows. Regardless, none were foolish enough to verbalize their sentiments at any level beyond a whisper. They let Frii'Glokk pass without any incident - his presence was noteworthy enough, and none had the reason nor the gall to interrupt his formulaic stride. Swish. Clang. Crunch. Creak. The saloon doors of the Dancing Crab relented to Frii'Glokk's advance, brushing against his reinforced midsection. The grey Skakdi hadn't pushed the doors open - he walked through the threshold as if the meager obstacle wasn't there. It wasn't apparent whether this was due to not caring, or if his sealed helmet so thoroughly encased his head to block any peripheral vision. Dead blue eyes returned stares as he walked to one side of the room. The wooden bench creaked in protest as the unorthodox knight sat, legs wide. He hunched forwards, forearms resting perfectly still on his knees. His left hand dangled loosely. Where his right would have been, the barrel of a launcher told a story. Underneath it was mounted a cruel bayonet, and at the base of that bayonet was skewered a piece of parchment, crudely stamped with ink that promised an impossible future. After a few moments, prior conversations among the patrons resumed. Frii'Glokk sat still, staring at an island a thousand kio away. OOC: @Ghosthands @Visaru @Nato G et al., there's a new guy in town.
  10. that'd be a real shame, I was really hyped for priicu's arc, he was shaping up to be the key innocent player in the middle of the philosophical differences between vrill and muir as the conspiracies got even more tangled. I'd like to second what Mel has said - if anything, sometimes these lulls of activity are the times when it's easiest to keep up with the game, and any goodbye can always turn into merely a hiatus several months down the line. It's happened to... well... everyone, over the years.
  11. IC: Myhruk [Naho Bay, Fowadi, Mast] He was surprised at the offer of a care package from one of his hostage takers. Even if more food risked provoking seasickness on rougher seas, the hunger was undeniable. "Only if you can get it up here. I'm not coming down to get it."
  12. IC: Long Dihunai [Ga-Koro, Docks] She watched and listened to the report. Situation over. Dihunai was curious how Yumiwa would react. Had the empress found her voice? IC: Myhruk [Naho Bay, Fowadi, Mast] The Lesterin had, somehow, managed to scramble up the mast, safely away from the water. The only problem: the boat started to move. Now he couldn't get off this boat at all, water had him surrounded on all fronts. He clung to the pole, tightening his muscles with every sway of the ship, as if the gentle rocking of calm waters could somehow fling him off of it and to his doom.
  13. The server's been unstable the past few days after an upgrade. I'm working on finding the issue.
  14. IC: Long Dihunai [Ga-Koro, Docks] Ayiwah's attention drifted. Something must be happening on the boat. Dihunai turned to watch.
  15. IC: Long Dihunai [Ga-Koro, Docks] She paid no heed to the soulsword's blade. Like his words, it was an abstraction that only distracted from greater reality. Those who venture beyond the cave do not spend their lives pondering the flame's shadows as they dance along the walls, for the truth is brighter than the chained ever know.
  16. IC: Long Dihunai [Ga-Koro, Docks] "Fire."
  17. IC: Long Dihunai [Ga-Koro, Docks] The ronin paid the most attention to the one speaking the most words that were worth listening to: Rhow. There was a truth in having a single name, an honor to a lack of titles. While that did not command respect, it did not draw any disdain either. The others hid behind the shields of their offices, while Dihunai would have been content to never been mentioned. She observed, not bothering to answer Rhow's questions, as an answer that would only fall upon deaf ears was not worth wasting her breath on.
  18. IC: Long Dihunai [Ga-Koro, Docks] The warrior's crossed arms parted. Her right hand balled into a fist, and her left palm flattened out. After a pause, each hurtled towards the other. There was a white phosphoric glow around each hand as they drew near. Just before her hands met, the webbed scales of flame covering the left hand and the burning conical spike in front of the right collided. The air snapped with a sound that resembled the crackle of a disturbed campfire and the shattering of glass as the psychic plasma dispersed in all directions, harmlessly sputtering out to reveal that Dihunai's unscathed hands pressed against each other, palm to fist. It was an important warmup trick to teach clan Long Dasaka who were learning both the Dragon's Scales and Dragon's Teeth techniques. Proficiency at two different methods of attack meant being able to use either to defend oneself. True mastery is being able to use both techniques, not just either. Too much leaning on one technique meant that it would break through the other's defenses. Equal focus and simultaneous intent was needed to avert an explosive imbalance. The danger was good motivation - the scrapes and burns of failure were the greatest teachers. Dihunai knew that well... and yet, her greatest failure had still broken her all those years ago. Arms crossed again. Demonstration over.
  19. IC: Long Dihunai [Ga-Koro, Docks] Lady. Sure. Whatever. "Help memory? What, like word association?" Her arms crossed. "I give concussions, I don't remove them."
  20. IC: Long Dihunai [Ga-Koro, Docks] The warrior's attention drifted between trying to discern any meaning from the submarine's silence and observing how the imperials were responding. Yumiwa was, as it seemed, doing the same. Letting her commanders command, and observing without getting in the way. Even with all of the empire's resources, the reality was that the Rora had as little influence on the outcome of the hostage situation as Dihunai did. Outside of that bridge, they were equally at the whims of chaos. Perhaps trying to blend in as a sailor was Yumiwa's own way of acknowledging that truth. As the Tajaar listened in, she was surprised to hear her own name be mentioned. She hadn't introduced herself to Ayiwah, but the ninja didn't put it past the officer to already be briefed. Dihunai was not disappointed - after all, she had not opted to conceal her presence or intent. For a few moments, it wasn't clear if Dihunai had heard the request. She continued to stare at the submarine with no visible reaction. Suddenly, she turned and strolled up to the Commodore's conversation with purpose. The entire process spoke to a decision, and not heeding to an order. She chose to walk over, on the merits of the proposition. She did not, however, choose to speak. Behind her sleek, slate-white Kanohi, Dihunai's amber optics darted between the subjects involved. A Dashi, a Commodore, and a Piraka had a problem. Dihunai awaited the punch line. Perhaps Ayiwah didn't understand the nuances of Soulfire, and mistook Dihunai's mental shielding to have an intrusive power similar to one of the empire's "disciplines". OOC: @Vezok's Friend@Umbraline Yumiwa@Void Emissary
  21. IC: Vrill [Wise Man's Archive, The Backroom] Vrill yawned and then stood up, his crystal chair melting back into his armor. As the translucent material flowed, it brought the Cy-Toa's sword upwards with it, the weapon neatly absorbing the rest of the crystal.
  22. Give me your character name and I can teleport them out of there. Done
  23. IC: Nichou [Ga-Koro, ǝsnoɥǝɹɐM] A squeeze around Nichou's leg and a slip of his feet later, everyone was uʍop ǝpᴉsdn. Plants covered the ceiling, snaking towards the group of misaligned allies. Nichou was falling further and further down, sinking far from his friends, kicking his legs as if trying to swim back up, but sinking like they were chained to stones. His flashlight floated up and away from him, thumping against the lilypad foundations as its beams scattered through various vines to form a web of shadows. Nichou reached his now-free left hand towards them and wheezed with what little breath had not been stolen from him a moment prior, but no amount of stretching would get them in his reach. In fact, as he drew his arm back down, Nichou's optics narrowed in confusion at how he had to fight gravity to do so. Slowly, the frame tilted upside down, and the situation became as fully apparent as it always had been to the outside observers. The carpenter looked up (down) and saw the problem. Plants. A problem he was perfectly equipped to face. Exerting his core strength, Nichou lifted his torso upwards. Both hands gripped the handle of his hatchet as he swung to cleave the vegetable's appendage in two. Yet as if sensing the danger, the vine loosened its grip. The Onu-Matoran began to fall - for real this time - while spinning, both hands on his weapon. He had no air control. In fact, the only thing he could control was shutting his optics instinctively, as if that would dull the inevitable pain. The impact came, sooner than anticipated. It was on his side, but Nichou had been off balance to begin with, so no wonder he incorrectly guessed which limb would hit the ground first. It was amazing how the body could feel as if it was still flying through the air well after hitting the ground. A moment later Nichou felt the real impact as his rescuer landed gracefully. The carpenter did his best to regain his balance after he was safely set on solid ground. "I should've been asking you to watch my back, Nale, instead of the oth-" Nichou cut himself short when the face he turned to wasn't Nale's. It was that other Matoran Ranok had spoken with. "Oh. Thanks."
  24. IC: Vrill [Wise Man's Archive, The Backroom] "Until next time," 'Syzygos' nodded curtly as Cyrix bid farewell, making mental notes of every Kalta stomping ground. He savored the last of his cigarette, closing his eyes and focusing on the sliver of obsidian surrounded by heatstone that he could feel moving around the room. He snuffed out the Fusa in the crystal ashtray of his own making, then looked over his shoulder to where Priicu and Muir must have gone. Hmmm...
  25. IC: Myhruk [Ga-Koro, Docks, Fowadi] "WATER?" the bewildered Lesterin sharply repeated. He was frozen in place, processing the Po-Matoran's accent. There was no water nearby. Only below. Ah, he understood now. "Staying away from it!" Quick thinking. Water was pretty far down on this ship, all things considered. Much better than the dubious structural integrity of the Koro's lilypads. He looked up. At the midpoint of the pole, there was a metal platform. Furthest from the water on the ship. Shame he wasn't up there. Another deduction; unfortunately, there didn't appear to be a ladder up this tree trunk that he could use to- Tree? His hands twitched. Digits danced back and forth. There was a way to make it up there. He was sure he knew how. IC: Nichou [Ga-Koro, Warehouse] Nichou nearly jumped at just how suddenly their world had been upended. He had been confident in their chances - there was a Toa with them, plus he knew Lekua would always be able to find a way out, and it had just been concretely established that Nale had his back. Even if he hadn't quite believed that THAT many people had entered without drawing any attention, the silence had been so ever present that against all odds, it became a surprise to him. Knowing the element of surprise to be long gone, Nichou's left hand patted across his tool belt, frantically reaching for a particular cylindrica-got it! His thumb slid a button on the side of the metal device with a click, springing open an internal mechanism that rotated a shade open. Light instantly poured through the second half of the iron body, where a glass lens focused it into a concentrated beam that threw the crystal's glow much further. Nichou turned it from side to side, the cone of warm tungsten light slicing through the warehouse's musky darkness like wide strokes of a blade. He didn't see anything but strange plants in front of him, and the view was similar once he swung over towards Nale to make sure her flank was okay. The plants were moving but there weren't any threatening figures. It was when he continued his rotation around what was beginning to feel like a trap that the miniaturized spotlight fully revealed the gargantuan frame of the monkey... in that moment, there were no words. Maybe if he stood still, it would keep standing still. Not that Nichou's rational mind was in control of his legs by then. OOC: @~Xemnas~@Tarn@BBBBalta@Rahisaurus et al.
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