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About Krayzikk

Year 13
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    BZPRPG Staff and OTC RPG Judge
  • Birthday 05/09/1997

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    New England

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  1. IC: The noise of discontent that rumbled in Skri's throat was more a growl than any groan as the situation changed rapidly. The specter that she had thrown her staff at was an illusion, no doubt. Or at the very least an illusion covering something else. Intentional or not the move had deprived her of the weapon best suited for these close quarters. Lovely. Worse were the Rahkshi that appeared. Though explaining the illusion the explanation only made her more concerned; the sophistication on display should have been far beyond what these Rahkshi were capable of. Which brought the whole mission from 'risky' to 'dangerous as all Karz'. Ronan's thrall was attacking one which left 'only' one for her to deal with. She'd had worse odds. One hand rose and released the clasp on the harness that held her blade on her back. As it descended to grip her weapon she cast into the shadows a handful of detritus. There was no room to draw her sword properly. The enormous blade slipped free of its sheath with the soft rasp of metal on leather, one hand upon its hilt and the other grasping its ricasso for control. It couldn't possibly be as easy to handle as it looked, not when it was the better part of two bio long. But the mercenary handled it with ease and finesse, as smoothly as her own limb. The cramped quarters weren't ideal. The Rahkshi were smart. Some of them were, in all likelihood, about to die just like Skorm might have. But the two Rahkshi before her were no threat, held no danger for her. They could never even reach her. Deliberately, almost contemptuously, she jabbed her zweihander's tip forcefully at the Rahkshi that Ronan's creature lurched towards. It didn't matter if she connected; both creatures would have to cross a two bio field of death before they could even touch her. "Keep it out of my way, Ronan." GM IC: Skorm walked along alone, untouched, for a long while. When light, dim, flickering orange light, reached his eye it was almost blinding. But there it was around the bend of the tunnel just barely visible in its glow.
  2. IC: Hm. The witch paused in her chewing and allowed her eyes to focus anew, the query tinging the air before Deuandra's mouth with a plaintive gray. Water. Water... Her voluminous cloak shifted and rustled as she felt about her person and pockets, hand alighting on a worn canteen that she offered to the alchemist wordlessly. It wasn't purified, clearly it held within it something to give it the greenish tinge and slightly fruity smell that wafted from the mouth when the cap was removed. "If we're leaving, Dee, I need hallucinogens. Taken in through the lungs."
  3. IC: Ah Ahhhh Ahhhchoo. A jarring, forceful sneeze ruined the threat of the glare that Sinshi bestowed upon her cousin. And her nose, truly, had itched long before its threat was made good. What the 'taka? She hadn't sneezed like that since she got to Mata Nui. Someone was talking about her. Someone was really talking about her, or mayble multiple someones, and that made her suspicious. Daijuno. Probably. What could that little creature be up to...? "Never seen them before, and never seen anything like them before. I guess Rahkshi might have an extremely superficial resemblance to Shinushya, distorted by time, but that doesn't feel right. But if Rahkshi are appearing on the Archipelago a couple months ago, that would be..." The Menti rubbed her nose to stave off another sneeze. "That would be around when the Commodore and I escorted Soraya to the Kini-Nui, White. And there was that storm."
  4. Holidays have been suuuuuper busy, I'm sorry for the wait. Working on getting caught up over the next couple days.
  5. Kaithas has been running it and he's been busy. I talked to him just a couple of days ago, though, and he has things planned out he just hasn't had the time to write them yet.
  6. IC: .:Makes two of us, huh, Sari?:. Nihonei favored her sister with a grin more confident than she felt. The mood floated between them, fatigue and uncertainty but with it a trace of surety. Her sister adventured, learned to fight, and she knew— felt as if it were her own— the doubts. That her sister the Toroshu, the academic, could handle going toe-to-toe with a younger Tajaar who looked like she ate weight training for breakfast. And she understood. She wasn't certain she could win, either, but that wasn't the point. Lii was angry. Furious, truthfully, and Nihonei understood. The destruction of her home, the death of her people, and her utter helplessness to stop it filled her with wrath. It made her harsher, angrier, more willing to fight. And that was the crux of it. .:Watch these. Shouldn't take long.:. She slipped the bag worn across her body back over her head, place it gently on the ground next to her sister. No emphasis was necessary. The contents were priceless, at least to her, and her sister knew it. She unclasped and lay next to it her swords and her staff. .:Think up your praise for if I win.:. "I accept and agree." Nothing else had to be said on the subject. The challenge had been issues, accepted, and the judge agreed upon. Anger came from something else. From fear, pain, betrayal or loss and any combination of them all. Anger was the soul's anesthetic. From a Tajaar to an Imperial there were uncountable possibilities for her pain. None of them she could repair, but between herself and the Wyrm there could be peace upon respect. It was the same she needed from Lii. Respect regardless of their pasts. Even if they had to beat each other black and blue. "Will that clearing there suffice, jahagir?"
  7. IC: "Leli and I need to get over to... Probably the Akiri, honestly." Their reception at the gate wasn't unwelcome but it was confused. As far as anyone had known Major Leli and Ussalmatoran Tarnok had been AWOL for over two months. More than strange considering the two of them but the facts had been there to see. No one much knew where either had gone. That debrief with Onepu was bound to be fun, but more important was telling Nuparu what they knew. "I don't know what Leli wants to do with her loot, guess that bit's up to her. Sticking around a while, Kel?"
  8. IC: Saeva laughed. That was the stuff. Not like fighting Erzu where the familiarity was too much, the intuition made for bouts that however inventive were just too similar for her to get too excited over these days. This was better. Unrefined, quick, and for a minimum of stakes. But if the stakes were so low she really needed to have some fun, right? Getting knocked on her 'd be good for her for once. So she grinned that signature, devil-may-care grin and danced in with a flurry of quick, light jabs at her pal.
  9. OOC: @Umbraline Yumiwa Just a gentle reminder about the rules regarding metagaming. Yumiwa getting from the Takea to the Ryuu without an intervening post and being suspicious of the person entering the sub without a clear reason (Dashi make up a part of the crew and wouldn't have a noticeable mental presence, either) pushes past what would be reasonable. This isn't intended as a public callout but there has been some concern from enough sources that @Ghosthands and myself thought it best to address publicly. You are of course welcome to discuss this with either of us privately. We want to encourage people to try things. Even if they won't work ultimately we don't want to discourage them before they ever really get to make the attempt. GM IC: Rudra's chosen disguise, though he couldn't have known it, was almost perfect; the original was far away inside the village and no one would question her presence on the sub. Not until he pushed for the bridge, anyway, a place that she had never been or had any knowledge of. Further into the village, in the midst of glaring at her cousin, Sinshi sneezed.
  10. IC: "Of your own free will." Every word carried, dripped, disdain. Contempt. Not the vague hostility, for the potential for it, from a moment ago; whatever Vazaria had said was wrong, at least in the spirit's eyes, and the cord on which her life hung frayed a little more. Zataka's eyes narrowed, lips pursed, and her presence seemed to grow. The shadows deepened and the low rustle of Rahkshi became a vicious, throaty rumble of violence. "You came of your own free will, isn't that a contradiction? You traveled here of your own free will only to surrender it. The Virtues are insidious. Even outside the Empire you hate you crave Order. Subservience. You want the Order gone but you don't know what to do without it, so you latch onto the most powerful force outside the system. To give you the guidance you seek." "Disappointing. But there's no reason to do away with useful, willing material." The entity seemed to sigh, and the Children closed in again. Not to kill, not that Vazaria knew it at first; when claws hands close upon you, the same hands that you have seen tearing so many Dasaka, there isn't much room for hope. But they didn't. A Rahkshi grabbed her arms, and a second her head; claws digging lightly into her face, a none too subtle warning as she was held still none too gently. A third, at the darkness' bidding, stepped towards her and knelt reverently. Her hand gripped the pines on its back and tore open its carapace, snatching the screeching, writhing kraata from within. "But if you would surrender so easily you are useless like this. Too little will to stiffen that spine. We'll have to fix that." The darkness regarded the kraata within her grasp, screeching at its exposure to the open air. She took no steps closer to Vazaria, clearly considering the Menti beneath such effort even through a proxy. She tossed the serpent, almost washing her hands of ever having sunken so low as to touch it. It oriented itself within the air, sensing the intent of its master, and when it struck Vazaria's mask it latched on and didn't let go. It screeched, a sound that carried through her bones like it had originated within her own body, and the pain began. An ache like a drill in the back of her mind, burrowing deeper and deeper and spreading through the whole of her being. Her Kanohi darkened and with every second the fear lessened, the pain faded away, and in their place was delight. A contentment in slavery. A desire, above all else, to do what the dark spirit willed. As though there were any other option. "You came to offer me your will. It seems rude not to take it." @Nato The Whisperer IC: "Lii." A stronger note crept, not without hesitation, into Nihonei's voice. The Tajaar had her reasons and any other time that would be fine. She could accept that they wouldn't get along but that there was enough space in the Archipelago for them both. Not now. Now division was dangerous when they would have to work together at least as long as it took to reach safety. Better to talk, to work at smoothing out the centuries of bad blood between their cultures. To build a bridge in the ruin of everything that had been. But there wasn't time and more importantly Lii wouldn't listen. Talking wasn't the way of the Dragon. For their nobility dragons were strong. Fierce. Their disagreements they settled not with measured debate but with a show of force, and when each understood their mettle only then could there be coexistence. Youth was much the same, though to combine both in one person was certainly impressive. "These children need you. Fighting fit. You're standing between them and the monsters, and you're going to turn help down just because you're proud?" The Toroshu shook her head, forcing the steel to stay in her tone and rising to her feet to look the Tajaar in the eye. "You don't like Imperials, that's fine. History is full of reasons not to. But we need each other, you and I at least, to get through this so don't be a moron." "Talking with your fists is what you get, isn't it? Come on, then, let's get these issues worked out."
  11. IC: Skri swore briefly and forcefully. On the one hand this proved, just as she and Reo had been talking about before, that not every citizen was suited to training as a Sanctum Guard. The two that stood fast were her best and under any other circumstances she would have told them how proud she was. But even if the others were not necessarily best suited she knew them better than this. Fear, uncertainty, in just one or two maybe even cowardice but none of the three would make them flee so easily. So desperately. She reached for the vines about the figure's body, an easy means to shut him up, and narrowed her eyes for they were not there. With her eyes she could see them as plain as day but to her element they simply did not exist. And that, coupled with the flight of her charges, boded very ill indeed. "Plag, this isn't right." The Sanctum Irregular's voice was low and firm, leeched of its irreverence. The look Kehuri gave her was obvious but there was no time for his bleeding heart. She flicked her wrist and the length of vine still untouched darted out and closed around her staff, yanking it back towards her. It would be needed, soon, and genuine concern entered her mind at last. Not fear, not yet, but a realization that the Lieutenant, or his superiors, had drastically underestimated the lethality of the situation they found themselves in. She wanted to go collect the fleeing Matoran, shepherd them out of the tunnel as was her priority. But the truth was that at this moment she could do nothing for them except hope they fled towards the surface. "The vines aren't real." "Kehuri we need to know who in this room is real and where and we need to know right now." She snapped the instruction, any etiquette long in abeyance. The pollen still in the air, not yet latched onto any particular surface, she gathered up and sent behind her towards the entrance. Danger was properly with them, now, and the only question was who she could get out alive. "LT we need to shore up. Rall watch the door, and under no circumstances stay anywhere except behind me." Skrihen, unlike most of them, had met Makuta's worst. Not the Rahkshi, though they were enough for fear. She had met Heuani however briefly and experienced an attack by real shadow. This figure, whatever he was, didn't ring true but he didn't feel right, either. And she knew her trainees well enough to know that even the most frightened would have stayed here, with her, rather than face the darkness alone. Something was very, very wrong and she didn't like it at all. @ARROW404 @Light @Void Emissary @Visaru
  12. IC: “Dehkaz,” He got the Captain’s attention with a quick, half wave of his hand and an incline of his head. The older Toa turned his head and mirrored it, making the gesture into a question. “One more errand to run. Your friend’s got my requests, if he’s got any questions try to field them while I’m gone.” There might have been an unvoiced question in his eye but Dehkaz nodded, and Krayn turned to leave. Asking for some directions might have been smart. But smart wasn’t always wise, and if he had to roam for a while that’d be fine. It wasn’t the sort of stop to make with company. Which was insane. It was an errand, not confessional. But insanity didn’t stop it from being true. He had to make this stop by himself even if it meant looking like an idiot tourist trying to figure out how to get around the new Po-Koro. Which was exactly what he began to do when he stepped outside of Farzan’s shop, turning and walking the way he had come. He had an idea of where he was going. The difficulty was navigating the new Koro, the two new zones he had seen from the train, and how to get back to truly familiar ground. There was a risk his destination didn’t exist anymore, but he could handle that once he got back to it. The answer it seemed was another of these ‘trains’; this one smaller, marginally less noisy, and partially open to the air. Of all the changes to Po-Koro, from the leadership, to the increased size, to the Sentinels, out of everything... This one he was most unsure about. It did its job, though. Only a few stops after he boarded— and a few too loud announcements about what stop was next— the smaller Mahi was passing through a purposefully created gap in Po-Koro’s older, time-worn innermost wall. A curious mix of the familiar and the new intensified when it passed by what had been, for most of his life, Po-Koro’s main gate; now it was merely a passage into the next zone. Whatever the changes that had occurred, the layout remained the same and habit took the wheel. How far was it to the next stop? Where did it— The discontented murmurings of the other passengers as he simply hopped off the side of the open-air car said that probably wasn’t the intended way to dismount. Why they were open, then, was lost on Krayn. The quick little machines swiftly took their complaints far away even if he had been listening. The former officer was too busy orienting himself. The signage had changed— it looked like auxiliary storage for the Koro now— but the buildings remained. There the Guard outpost he had passed many times even before the Guard became the Sentinels, there the offices his friends had worked inside. His feet took him deeper still. There was the house he had lived in for six months, give or take. Which meant… Tucked closely against a much newer building was a sand worn shop with a sun beaten sign, exactly where he remembered. The bell on the door tolled his entrance. “Be with you in a minute!” The proprietor’s voice came from the back, absently courteous. Krayn nodded to himself and closed the door behind him. The shop was cool, and the new lights seemed to be its biggest concession to change. The bolts of fabric were still rolled by hand, the register had beside it a sheaf of paper and a Dikapi feather quill. The soft, regular, well-oiled sound of a treadle just around the corner continued without missing a beat. Out of place, neither old nor the new, electric sound of Po-Koro, was a rot mechanical clicking that varied by the slightest tones. The little machine rested on the counter near the register, scratching away at the paper set below it. No one sat at its controls and Krayn suspected, with a sudden pang of nostalgia, that it would have been offended to be monitored. It never needed it before. “Wonderful gadget, ain’t it?” The proprietor asked as he stepped around the corner. “Couldn’t figure out those damnable task pads so a friend lent it to me. Writin’ bills by hand isn’t as easy as it used to be. Anyway. You been in here before?” “Long time ago.” Krayn answered with one of those lopsided smiles. “Thought you might be able to help me out.” “I probably can. What do you need?” The Turaga’s shoulders were sloped, turned inwards from years of bending over his work. There was something searching in his expression beyond the appraisal of a lifetime craftsman, a mind working to pin a nagging feeling into place. “Haven’t got anything with you so I doubt it’s a repair. If it’s about a uniform the Sentinels get fussy if I do custom tailoring, you’ll have to go through them.” “Not too far off. I need a coat.” “Well, that’s easy enough.” The Turaga gestured to the side, towards a stool with a series of fabric measuring strips hanging on a simple wooden rack. “Little too vague, though. Let me get your measurements and we can talk about specifics.” “Shape comes from purpose,” He took two steps up onto his stepstool and plucked a strip off of the rack, gesturing for the Toa to raise his arms. The strip went around Krayn’s chest, drawn snug and the markings noted. “And material has a lot to do with both. So tell me first what you’ll need it for.” “Cold, wet, and windy weathers. Pockets. So it’ll have to be tolerable in warmer climates, too.” The Toa tilted his head back in thought. “And I’ll need to fit some things into the sleeves, around my arms.” “Don’t ask for much, do you?” “Well, I’ll need to be able to move in it too. Carry some equipment on my back and at my sides. I won’t be able to get to a cleaner much, so it has to dry on its own, hold its shape, and I’ll have to be able to get dirt and oils off of it. Blood, too.” “Aha!” The tailor laughed and clapped him on the back with a gnarled hand. “That’s it. Gray canvas trench coat. Slits at the sides to draw a sword, several years old, and a Gukko Force insignia stitched in the lapel. It came in for a repair just after the Maru beat Makuta. Several small tears, a bit of blood, and a lot of Rahkshi entrails. Those stained something awful, you know, Mr. Inzaka. Did something happen to it?” “More to me. You recognize me?” “Mr. Inzaka, I may be getting old but I can still remember a face. You spent a good few years running around with some of our best and brightest. Lieutenant Naona, the baby faced Rahkslayer. You rescued the Turaga.” He shrugged and moved the measuring tape from under the arm to down to the wrist. “Didn’t stick, but that wasn’t your fault. Any of you. Then you were here while the Guard rebuilt. Became the Sentinels. It’s been a few years and here you are without that coat, looking for a new one. Retired?” “I was.” “Lot of that going around.” A serious look came over his Kakama. “He’s back, isn’t he?” “Yes.” Not for a moment did Krayn consider denying it. It wasn’t his place to decide who should and shouldn’t know, and everyone would know soon enough. Everyone needed to prepare for it, make their peace with the return of the darkness. “A few months ago.” “Ahhh, I thought maybe we were done. I thought so when the Mata came. I wasn’t sure when the Maru came, but after so long… It seemed like he might really be gone.” The Turaga draped the measuring tape around his neck. “I haven’t met Stannis yet but he seems alright. More stable than our government’s been in the same time. What got into Hewkii… Well. I got to meet Pohatu in his time. I mourned with everyone else when the Mata died.” “And then there were Toa everywhere. Me among them!” He shook his head and sighed. “If you weren’t there you’ll never understand what those days were like. Toa everywhere, and no one to train them properly. A lot that tried their best. And a lot that got it wrong. I was never any good at it anyway. But I did try.” “Did you ever feel guilty?” The question surprised him, but the Turaga only nodded with the understanding of age. “I was ready to be done. It wasn’t easy but with Makuta gone, the fighting done, I was ready to stop. Without ever accomplishing my Destiny.” “Screw Destiny, son.” He climbed off of his stool and walked to the wall of fabrics, each nestled in their own nook, and busied himself searching. But not before he had gestured around with his hand. “This is what I’ve done with my life. It’s all I’ve ever been good at. I was a useless Guard, a useless Toa, and as a Turaga I find I can’t keep up with the way the Koro changes. Stopping, going back to doing what I always did, was the hardest choice I ever made. I wondered for years if I had shirked my duty. If by choosing to live a peaceful life I had avoided my Destiny. I didn’t. Out there in the village somewhere someone is still alive because when the Rahkshi attacked my village, and the Guard we had left struggled to stop them, I was in the right place and the right time to give up that power so that they could live.” “Destiny is destiny. It’s the only thing you never have to think about. The bigwigs, the Mata and the Maru, knew what their Destiny was.” The Turaga snorted, grabbing a bolt of fabric and pulling it free. “Well look where that went. The first six died, and the new ones didn’t finish the job. And in between I became a Toa and gave it up because that was how I could save a life. If the believers were right, that was my Destiny. If they’re not it doesn’t matter because I decided that was right.” “You,” He gestured with the end of the bollt, lending a certain emphasis to the word. “Can’t ever know what yours is. Not til it happens. Until then all you can do is what you can do. I couldn’t do much. I don’t think there’s much you can stop yourself from doing, Mr. Inzaka, if it’s what’s right.” “Wisdom come with giving it up?” “No, wisdom came with getting old. I’ve got more where that came from. If you think it’s a good idea after a round of Salamanders, it’s not. Any time you think ‘what’s the worst that can happen’ you should think again.” He chuckled and unrolled a little of the fabric. “Give that a feel. I think the mistake, sir, is in thinking it’s a fight that can be won. You can’t strike fast, strike early, and get it done. Doesn’t work that way. I saw a lot of Toa mess it up thinking that they could just end it. Got some of them killed, some of them infected, and the worst ones just kept slipping. Preempting the fight sounds good but it’s a slippery thing. Look at Hewkii. He finished one war and he started getting ready for the next one. near caused it in the process.” “What is it?” Krayn ran his fingers over the fabric while he listened. Woolen, not canvas like the one he had worn before. It was a bit more like the cloak he had worn as a disguise in Ko-Koro that way. Woolen but very, very dense; not a simple knit then but a more involved process. For its density it was very light too and somehow more resilient. “And why this instead of a canvas?” “If you really want canvas I could do that too. But it doesn’t stay waterproof forever, and it definitely doesn’t breathe. Takes wax to waterproof canvas and eventually you should wax it again. Heavier for the same yardage, too.” The tailor tapped the fabric. “This is better. Same weave folks have needed for Ko-Wahi for a long time. Breathable, naturally water resistant, keeps you warm when it’s cold, lets heat out when you get hot. Oil resistant, fire resistant, and all you’ve got to do to keep it clean and dry is just hang it up when it gets wet. Shouldn’t stain with blood, either.” “And it’s light. Pockets are easy, and I can incorporate some discreet pass through slits so you can get to anything on a belt underneath. Sound good?” “Sounds perfect. And expensive.” Krayn frowned. “And like it might take a while to make. I think I’m going to travel soon, so how fast could you make it?” “How fast do you need it?” “We’re joining back up with the Fowadi later today. Headed to Ga-Koro after that I think. With Makuta back things will get hectic fast.” “Two days. Three at the most and I can do it. ” The Turaga said after a minute. “I’ll have it delivered to Ga-Koro. If it’s not there when you are, leave a place to forward it. Don’t stress the price, Mr. Inzaka. What you’ve done for this village already gives you a strong line of credit in my books. Pay me back when you can, if you can, and keep doing what you do. John’ll write it up.” “That’s extraordinarily generous. I’m not dumb enough to turn it down.” The De-Toa paused a second, an incipient smile spreading. “I did see a couple of things by the counter, though, if you could wrap them up for me. I think I’ve got enough for those and a down payment.”
  13. IC: "A simple, if potentially useful answer. And if I don't think you should be a part of it?" Disinterest took on a lethal edge. "I don't much care about those distinctions. I don't much care about a single Menti, either, however zealous. And you are something of a zealot, aren't you?" It gestured with a hand, and Zataka's children bristled and chattered as they took a step, two, towards the Menti on the ground before again stopping. "What then?"
  14. IC: Their spines rustled, a chattering sound as they let out a lower, softer hiss. Unhappy, then, at least as much as the creatures had shown a capacity for any sort of emotion. Their stance, their vocalizations, their sound of their jaws gnashing irritably spoke of their desire to strike. To take advantage of the weakness showcased before them and strike down their enemy as they had hundreds, even thousands, of times already. But they waited, held at bay by something else. And one shifted, melting before Vazaria's eyes until it was no beast at all but a visage that every Dasaka had seen, with small variations from time to time and artist to artist, from the moment they were old enough to revere the spirits properly. Her face was not pleased, but it did not contain a trace of hostility. Not yet. The Menti before her was beneath that but for now she held enough of the dark spirit's interest to stay alive. "And why," It spoke with Zataka's voice, a voice soft in tone but harsh with dispassion. "Should you wish that? Have you decided that your best chance to survive is to grovel well enough at my feet? I've little use for cowards."
  15. IC: "Owing to your Mahiki, I assume." A knowing half smile crossed his face. "A Kanohi I also assume is responsible for your present guise. Very well, Ushadra, accompany me you will. For the moment we will go to speak with Agrona and begin to plan how best to execute the orders we have been given."
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