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IC: Rannin

 

"We are, but a group of fellows walking into the Dark Walk and destroying Rahkshi does not take into account logistics. Sharing of profits. Those things."

 

IC: Naona

 

"Where Roth lives, hopefully," she replied, eyes moving to scan it. "Let us move outside. Our group may be taking up too much space here."

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IC:

 

"Oh."

 

Peho knew very little about such things. But he supposed that it made sense to figure complicated things like that out.

 

"Okay."

 

IC:

 

"Good idea," Rynekk said, nodding solemnly, turning to take his leave. "Come on gang; let's get going."

 

But the thought of going outside reminded the over-thinking Toa of Stone of the Ko-Matoran currently standing around and looking forlorn out in the streets. He remembered suggesting to Four and Wolfram that they could ask about the odd proportion of these fellows at the Ussalry HQ and, well, they were there. Might as well ask.

 

"Actually, hold that thought for a second," he added quickly, walking over to the receptionist's desk himself.

 

"Excuse me," he said, leaning one forearm on the counter. "I uh ... You know why there are so many Ko-Matoran around right now, sir?"

 

-Void

 
 
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IC: A lesser man, shocked at such wonderment of the obvious and disconcerting, would've widened his eyes or ejaculated a brief cry of "What?," alarmed at the incongruity between the uneducated question and the military-educated asker.

 

Mister Phopp was not a lesser man.

 

"Sir," he explained gently, removing his monocle to lay it on his desk and regarding the group with a solemnity that straddled sympathy, "Ko-Koro has fallen to Makuta-worshipers. The Matoran you see are those who escaped."

Edited by The Scottish Play

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IC: Oceanna Gallywix

 

"Oh how silly of me, I forgot to tell you all my name!" She bonked herself on the head. "They call me Oceanna, Oceanna Gallywix."

 

The Rannin guy brought up a good point, they needed to have some sort of plan, at least on how they were gonna work out the profits. If a group of this size they'd probably have to bring down quite a few Rahkshi for them each to make a sizable profit. She hadn't thought of that. 

 

"Hmm, we could form a rock band with all the profit will make, yes I think that's a good idea." She started jamming again on her instrument. 

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IC:Arvas

Arvas shrugged. "With a group this size we should do fine, unless, well, there's more Rahkshi at once then there are us." He thought for a moment. "Say, aren't Rahkshi made of metal, or something like that?"

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IC:

 

...

 

"What?"

 

For someone else, the question might have been clarification. The Vortixx was further away, he was speaking relatively quietly, and what he said simply couldn’t be true. Easy to believe that one might have misheard. A De-Toa couldn’t operate under such illusions. The receptionist’s words were as clear to Krayn’s ears as if they had been spoken right next to him, but their clarity made them no easier to believe.

 

Ko-Koro has fallen.

 

Ko-Koro has fallen. A simple phrase, but one that carried an impossible gravity. The island was at peace. The Toa Maru had defeated Makuta, with all the finality that the statement implied. The villages were at peace with one another, and advancements in medicine, transportation, and science abounded. It was a new world. A better world. One where people could rest easy without the fear that the Master of Shadows would decide to take their life. The fear that had once been all-encompassing was lifted. But now a village had fallen, something that had never happened. Not even in the Dark Years. And now, in a time of peace, it had.

 

The Matoran outside were refugees from a conflict that was supposed to be over. From a home that was supposed to be safe.

 

Krayn’s heart dropped into his stomach, weighed down by dread. … But more than that. He felt guilty. Under Makuta he’d been a protector, a member of the Gukko Force. His resignation had been without regrets. He was happy to live quietly for a time, where he felt at home. But no sooner did he lay down his duties, Makuta’s poisonous influence reared its head again. Like a pollutant it had slipped deep into the very soil of the island, ready to corrupt even when the threat seemed gone.

 

The island needed to be protected again, but he felt so reluctant to take up his burden.

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On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

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IC: The Fourth

 

She was closer to the reception than Krayn, but she didn't need to hear clearly to know what had happened. The solemnity of the receptionist, her friend's descent into guilt and sadness ... it was obvious what had occurred in Ko-koro.

 

How ...?

 

IC: Rannin

 

"That will not work, actually," explained Rannin. "Attempting to manipulate the metal armour of Rahkshi. They have proven to be ... immune."

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IC: Reson Ance - Streets.

 

With his Ussal Curmudgeon by his side, Reson continued his patrol. 

____________________________________________________________________

 

IC: Nariya - Home. 

 

Finishing her work with the most recent of her experiments, Nariya spotted Reson's pack sitting beside the table where he'd left it. Curious as to what he'd been up to during their year apart, she pulled it open and rifled through its contents, quickly finding a bottle of wine bearing the mark of the Niralle Estate. 

 

Scowling at the sight of the businessman's name, she put the bottle on the table and resumed her work, waiting for Reson to return. She was going to have words with him when he got back...

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IC: "Sir," he explained gently, removing his monocle to lay it on his desk and regarding the group with a solemnity that straddled sympathy, "Ko-Koro has fallen to Makuta-worshipers. The Matoran you see are those who escaped."

 

IC:

 

Kill him.

 

He's -lying-.

 

He -has- to be lying.

 

Please God let him be lying.

 

...

 

"I see."

 

Rynekk Simul's arm fell from the counter. His face was unreadable.

 

"Relevant information. Now."

 

 

 

IC: Oceanna Gallywix

 

"So all we have to do is BURN the slugs alive and take the armor!" 

 

IC:

 

"I can do that!" Peho exclaimed joyously.

 

He could help his friends out now!

 

This was such a good day!

 

-Void

 
 
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IC: As he walked through HQ's halls, heading for his destination aflutter, Gavarm heard a voice he had not had the pleasure of hearing in a long while--though it gave him small pleasure to hear it now.

 

He entered the lobby and silenced Phop with a polite wave.

 

"Mahnd if it comes from a friend, Rynekk?," he called humorlessly, his electrification at good news and a friend to share it with significantly reduced by the gravity of the big picture.

Edited by The Scottish Play

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IC: Trava (Onu-Koro, The Wise Man's Archive)

When the Lesterin turned to her and looked her square in the eye, she looked back, and took in everything she could in those short moments they were connected. A brutal, hands-on spirit gleamed in those eyes. She got the sense that whomever this man was, he didn't play by any rules but his own.

He opened the big hole in the granite block balancing on his shoulders and delivered an equally cynical reply. As far as Trava could tell, he had either been here too long, or not long at all.

Trava examined him before she replied: big fellow, built like a brick wall, and well armed. He looked a lot less "wild child" and a lot more "ruthless harda##", mixed with a dash of "lone wolf".

"They sure do," she finally answered, "at least when they're not hurting themselves or shivering in huddled masses in fear of the local wildlife."

She delivered a knowledgeable smirk.

"It's pretty lively."

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IC: Oceanna Gallywix

 

"And if that doesn't work, we can BEAT them out of the armor!"

 

IC:

 

"I'm not as good at the beating part of this," Peho admitted, all the while flexing his mighty arms as though they might spontaneously show him the way to Supreme Brawler-dom, "but I will try my best!"

 

IC: "Mahnd if it comes from a friend, Rynekk?," he called humorlessly, his electrification at good news and a friend to share it with significantly reduced by the gravity of the big picture.

 

IC:

 

Rynekk's face lightened just a fraction as he saw the Matoran.

 

"Gavarm...."

 

But only a fraction.

 

"... If you've got anything, we'll take it, old sport."

 

-Void

 
 
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IC: Hammerlock

I don't know exactly what she's implying. But I've got a few guesses, which may or may not be way off the mark thanks to my dirty little mind, and now I'm warier than ever. Chicks like this one shouldn't even be allowed. They're so freakin' dangerous, you'll get a freakin' sunburn if you stand too close. Seriously, I've seen it happen.*

Which brings me to the second point of discussion.

Did you ever stop and think, and realize just how intriguing, how charming, how utterly intoxicating danger can be?
 
...
 
My half-smile fades a bit, but there's a sudden electric energy crackling in my sapphire gaze. I can feel it.
 
"I'll bet so, with your kind of looks," I counter nimbly but most sincerely, and make a slight bow from the waist in perfect aristocratic form. If I'd a helmet, I'd have doffed it long ago, only I don't.
 
One more thing on the to-do list.
 
"Fair huntress, may I have the pleasure of making your acquaintance? They call me Hammerlock."
 

 
*...and it happened because the chick in question was a Toa of Plasma.  LOL

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IC: Trava (Onu-Koro, Wise Man's Archive)

"Big words from a big man," Trava replied, amused, "at the very least you sound a lot prettier than you look."

She didn't say it out loud, but this "Hammerlock" had impressed her by guessing her occupation at a glance. More than that, when he bowed, she noticed a long scar across the back of his head, where she'd expected to see the head-crest their kind usually sported there. His was gone, and his name was a moniker more than a name. He intrigued her.

"Yes, you may 'make my acquaintance' as you put it. Name's Trava." she presented herself with a casual nod.

"Hammerlock," she said out loud, as if to try it out properly, "sounds like there's a story behind that name."

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OOC: Twelve-hour rule

 

IC: Akiri Nuparu (Nuparu's Office)

 

"Now then," Nuparu began as he sorted his notes and sketchs for the 'nth time, and cast a glance at all the expectant faces around him"

 

"I'm not much of a military planner, but 'ideas' is something I'm very good at, so I've come up with a few"

 

"As most of us are aware, the Nightfall is holding a group of civilians hostage inside the Ko-Koro. If they so much as catch a glimpse of any armed force outside their gates, the lives of those prisoners are forfeit"

 

"Naturally, the first order of business must be to help those hostages." he said as he pulled up a sketch, depicting an Exo-Matoran wielding oversized mining tools.

 

"The first obstacle to getting into Ko-Koro, is their aural detection system. Any small team or  lone regiments we send out, could be heard and thus discovered before they ever came within sight of the gates. Either, we'll have to go around them, or find a way to slip past them"

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IC: Trava (Onu-Koro, Wise Man's Archive)

 

[...]

 

"Hammerlock," she said out loud, as if to try it out properly, "sounds like there's a story behind that name."

IC: Hammerlock

 

"No doubt there is," I respond affably. "But I'm not one to brag, so a secret it is and a secret it shall remain."

 

I gesture to the Wise Man's Archive. The fool Po-Matoran and his group are still blocking the front door, but there's a second, less prominent entrance nearby that looks like it's probably unlocked.

 

It also happens to be marked 'Employees Only', but it's amazing just how accommodating and polite these little villagers tend to be when they notice you're at least three (or four) times their size, armed to the proverbial teeth, and could probably rip the whole bookstore apart without breaking a sweat.

 

"I was scouting for information concerning Rahkshi... would you like to come along?"

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IC: Trava (Wise Man's Archive)

 

"Rahkshi? Yeah, I've heard of those. Probably one of the few things on the island I wouldn't regret hunting for sport."

 

She followed Hammerlock inside, gliding between the bookshelves like she was maneuvering bushy undergrowth.

 

"Rahkshi are nasty, though. Are you thinking of tempting fate or do you have a deathwish?

 

"Either suits me" she said with a haughty expression.

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IC: Onepu

The Onu-Matoran raised an eyebrow. 'Nightfall'? That's what they were calling themselves? "We could hire a team of mercenaries," he proposed, "To infiltrate the Koro, find the Matoran, and protect or rescue them when our attack comes." Ussalmen would likely not do, their sense of discipline might arouse suspicion. And unruly and aloof group of mercenaries, however, if well paid, would blend in without anyone batting an eye.

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IC: "Old sport," eh? The guy was picking up his lingo. Well, at least Gavarm could teach one son.

"Come an' see," he bade succinctly, and the pair strode off down the adjoining hall.

A few moments later, he unlocked and opened the door labeled "Colonel Gavarm," and the fetor of cigarettes slammed into the two. The cause was evident: on the right corner of the desk in the middle of the room was an overflowing ashtray. Facing the ashes, an engraving of Ga-Koronan docks hung on the wall. The opposite side of the room featured a diagram of Rahkshi anatomy that looked down on today's Mata Nui Daily in the desk's left corner. The wall that joined these elements was almost invisible, swamped by a band of humongous filing cabinets and shelves; from the top of one particularly tall cabinet, however, a fresh bust of Stannis Maru--granite-eyed and stern-jawed--sat, unsmiling gaze presiding over the room. The multifarious chairs of the office had already bent the knee to their new overlord, arranged so that one seat was reserved for him behind the desk and the others were in military formation on the doorway's wall.

But the most supreme disarray was not found in the general mélange. It was the contents of the desk: dozens of writings on everything from the aural security of Ko-Koro to the relationships between the Piraka.

"Sorry 'bout th' smell," Gavarm apologized quickly, weaving between the furniture and past the Rahkshi's serpentine stare. He slipped into Stannis' chair and examined the muddle with a sober stare. "Th' 'Mangaia Pact,' th' Brotherhood of Ak'Rei'Ahn and th' Legacy, caught them Ko-Koronans with their greaves down." He tossed Rynekk his dossiers on both. "Th' pact won with some mighty fine tricks up their sleeve from th' Piraka." Another pair of files came Rynekk's way, notes on the Vault's "gifts" and the Piraka. "We'd be gettin' th' village back if there weren't hostages." He passed Rynekk an analysis of the captive situation. "Anything else y'all wanna know?"

***

"Korero could help."

Edited by The Scottish Play
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OOC: Apologies for the delay

 

IC: Ahkmou, Onu-Koro (Wise Man's Archive)

 

Skoll’s offered hand received a muddied palm as Ishi groaned and rose from the dirt road.  His rear covered in earth, bruises accumulating bruises from the jostle down the stairs, and kanohi crooked, the Informant did his best to laugh off the mishap. 

 

“Sir?  Please, formalities aren’t needed for pebbles in the dirt.” 

 

Adjusting his kaukau with swift bonks, Ishi let his critical gaze enjoy the unique features of his inopportune assailant.  The wolfish snout made Ishi think back, and it seemed to stir something – but the tumble made his memory foggy, for now.  A mercenary, the skakdi’s weapons were easy to see, and his fighting style plainer.  Despite coming from Wise Man’s Archive, he didn’t have a book, or even a stack of books.  Peculiar. 

 

“Looks like you’re in a hurry, for a man who didn’t find what he wanted,” Ishi guessed.  “Maybe I can be of assistance?  Oh, don’t mind her – as long as you don’t knock her down, guardswoman Sajis here is more likely to fetter me than you.”

 

OOC:  Hey, any chance Ishi can have some information about Skoll's previous alignment with Makuta?  Seems like a skakdi with a unique snout like his might get a bit of renown in shady circles. :)

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OOC

That's fine Kughii, but he isn't much of a makuta dude nowadays. You can read back a few pages for his conversation about that. Let's just say working with some onu-koran engineers and sobering up turned his leaf

 

IC Skoll

Didn't find what he wanted? He bent down to grab the small stack of books that he'd set down to help the matoran up. "It wasn't so much a failure to find what I wanted, but a failure to know what I wanted." In his hands he had quite an eclectic selection of books. "I've been working my way through the libraries here. Good way to pass the time." He took a quick glance at the ussalry women and a longer glance as the po-matoran. She seemed familiar and he had no fingers.

 

Odd.

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...but close to it

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IC: Hammerlock

 

Me, I just laugh.

 

"That's a very practical attitude indeed, isn't it? I appreciate your concern."

 

IC: Trava (The Wise Man's Archive)

 

"I'm sure you're just aching to hold me to that" Trava replied as she started searching down the long, dusty bookshelves for any book that might include any information on Rahkshi.

 

"You didn't answer my question, though: Why are you looking for information on Rahkshi?"

 

She had a good idea, but it couldn't hurt to be sure.

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IC: Hammerlock

"Rahkshi armor is worth a lot of money these days. Insomuch that hunting them might actually be worth the risk. If the hunter takes the necessary precautions."

I pull out an enormous leather-bound tome entitled 'Ye Olde Beasts Most Foul', hefting it easily in one hand, and glance through the table of contents. Almost immediately, I spot something interesting.
 
"Here we go. Chapter VII... 'the Sons of Makuta'... sounds promising, eh?"

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OOC:  Coolio, thanks Tiragath!

 

IC: Ahkmou, Onu-Koro (Wise Man's Archive)

 

A glance at the titles gave entrance to the skakdi's varied tactics to stymie boredom: books on mechanics fundamentals, light reading for the bedside table, even tour guides for the more adventurous mountaineers.  It was an eclectic pile.  There were more, but the spines were turned away in a disorganization Sajis might have found difficult to leave alone.   

 

"Time, time...  Ah, yes, we always seem to have so much when we don't need it, and none when we want it."  Ishi commented.  "It's a time trap we all face.  I'm stuck in one myself.  Hence coming here...  I'm sorry, but did you mention your name?  I don't remember it, sorry to say.  Must have been the bonk on the head."  He chuckled, then shivered as a blast of cold air from the upper caverns rushed down the street.  

 

"And while we're at it, if you don't mind, I could really do for going inside.  Care to join me?  Maybe you can buy me a book as recompense?"

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IC: Trava (Wise Man's Archive)

 

"Heh, money," Trava remarked "I sure wouldn't lose any sleep if it suddenly turned out we didn't need that anymore"

 

A small, leather-bound book engraved with the title "Beasts: Skills, behavior and characteristics" was balancing open in her left hand. She stood leaning against the side of a bookshelf, legs crossed and her other arm stuffing her newly-removed mask into her satchel, revealing her proper face.

 

"Got something here, too. Bite of the Darkspawn: Kraata and their abilities."

 

"Not much to spare on the overly dramatic title, but let's see."

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IC (Lira)

 

The lightstones are like stars and they glow bright;

it looks like it's the middle of the night

Onu-Koro is way cool, like, dude;

the police force is really nice they're not rude.

 

Lira smiled as she scribbled furiously in her book. This poem was going so well!!!1!1!

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IC: Hammerlock

"Need money?" I echo, and my sturdy white teeth flash in a devilish grin. "Need money? Of course we don't need money, but we ###### sure want it... Folks don't really need much, when you think about it."

As she removes her mask, my gaze lingers a moment on her face. Tracing the angular, finely-chiseled features, the strong cheekbones, the delicate-but-firm jaw structure. And those splendid green eyes.

 
She really is quite a striking young woman.
 
"On the other hand, gold is leverage and leverage is strength, and you know just as well as I do what happens to the weak. So I guess it pays off in the end, to make sure you get all you can when the getting's good."

I shrug carefully. "That's my theory, anyhow."

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IC: Trava (Wise Man's Archive)

 

"Suit yourself" she replied with a return shrug. High-minded talk (or as high-minded as Hammerlock could get. Refreshingly to the point, this guy) about the desires and needs buried deep within a person's mind wasn't her forte.

 

She had to admit, though, that smile was a winner.

 

"A Rahkshi is powerless without the Kraata that drives it. Its sudden removal is one of the most effective ways to defeat a Rahkshi... or it would be if the compartment where the Kraata rests wasn't heavily armored and fortified against anyone attempting just that" she read aloud.

 

"I'll need a bigger knife"

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