Mel

Content Warning: internalized victim blaming, allusions to sexual assault a slave | bone hunter stronghold Sometime in between the many cycles of sleeping and waking, you hear them. Voices. Skrall voices. Not exactly intelligible to your keen but un-enhanced hearing, but achingly familiar in their tones and rhythms. Perhaps another will be added to the not-hunter’s pen today, though surely not one as pathetic as you. Then one of the voices becomes clearer, unmistakable in its tone—a women’s voice, in the unmistakable dialect of the Skrall. Something that can only be the voice of a Sister. You are half convinced it is that voice that moves your limbs, that forces your breath out throat-drying ragged as you creep toward the barred window to get a better look, expecting the iron grasp of another will in your hands, in your body, at any moment. The others do not notice you in their equally fitful sleep, the soft-steppers in your feet doing you, at least good service. It is hard to see outside in the daytime; your night-seeing eyes spin the heat into smears and veils of color. You squint, trying to focus on the tall black figures as they move through the market. OOC: @Vezok's Friend @a goose @BULiK @Nato G @oncertainty @Burnmad @Toru Nui Someone is watching. Your choice on whether you notice or not.

[Offshore, The Fowadi (Talli)] With the galley crew officially off till sunrise tomorrow, Talli had found herself doing odd tasks helping the rest of the crew. Ember, the quartermaster, had gotten a gleam in her eye when she saw that Talli had marine training, and she had been kept busy—at least the Po-koronan crew knew their knots. They were less prepared for the knife and the attached bag that came out of the blue. In the ensuing chaos, assigned jobs changed rapidly, and it was some time before Talli was able to get a look at the hole in the deck. It confirmed what she already had suspected. Only a toa could have done that. Knife throwing was a party trick, highly ineffective most of time, and with half the range of hand-thrown disk. And that was with a knife designed for throwing. This looked like something used to fillet a ruki before market. You’d need a pakari for that kind of distance, although the accuracy was clearly not there. Makuta’s taint, he could have killed someone. Snatching the bottle of rum from the deck table, she moved to replace it in the hold. Alcohol was being rationed—she would hate to be on this ship when they ran out. At least the newcomer hadn’t decided he wanted any. Luckily, Skyra and Praggos were too busy arguing to notice. As she approached the hold, her eyes were drawn back to the pack and the knife, apparently forgotten against the railing. Well, if these toa were basically going to ignore her over getting into a circular conversation about some inside joke, she might as well find out what was actually going on. Tucking the pack under her arm, she slipped into the bowls of the ship. She bet she knew which direction the newcomer went. OOC: @otter @Snelly don't mind me @Razgriz @sunflower headed your way o7

[Ko-koro, Rhanus’s Inn (Shuuan)] It turned out that we had been expected—don’t get me wrong, we certainly got no honor guard to shuffle us in to the classiest (and definitely warmest) inn in this city of ice. But it seemed like the guards knew Mako, and he must have been liked enough to let us pass without the obligatory rundown. The Vilda Grandma’s giant snake was something more of a problem, though. The innkeeper was nice, but apparently not nice enough to let it bask in the common room. Didn’t blame him per say, although if I had a giant opportunity like that I would keep it there at all times to eat disruptive customers. This is why I would never get into the family business. But as suffocatingly cozy as this place was, I didn’t feel like staying quite yet. It’s funny, I grew up in a jungle—I was pretty cold. But the physicality of the cold was still clarifying, rather than painful. I needed to be outside, in the glorious silence. I grew up in a place that was stock full of beauty, but not beauty like this. Sado couldn’t compare either, it was too…inhabited, too constructed, too bright. This place had been built of stone and crystal, but with a completely different aesthetic to it. This was not for markets and parades and royal pageants. This was for living, and speaking, and thinking. And it was pretty nice for walking too. OOC: Shuuan open for interaction, if anyone wants to interrupt her revelry. If we’d like to get the actual party in gear… @Geardirector @Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva) @Keeper of Kraata

Content Warning: internalized victim blaming a slave | bone hunter stronghold The not-hunters give less straw to slaves than they do to rock steeds, but drifting in and out of half-sleep on hard ground is something, at least, that you have known for many years. The sounds of the market do not rouse you, for you know that you will not be required. Who would desire you, even as a tool? You have not the muscle power of courier, nothing that passes for good manners in a southern settlement. You wear the skin of a hated Skrall, yet you lend not even the illusion of honor from being captured in battle. Your best skills are avoiding notice, which you wish to continue to do, huddled in the corner.

[Ko-koro, Approaching Outer Gates (Pradhai)] Pradhai looked to Mako. “Who was the name of that young man that Soraph was sweet on again?” OOC: @Geardirector @Keeper of Kraata @Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva) @Visaru

[Road to Po-koro (Ranok)] Ranok let out a sigh of relief, audible to only himself and Timak. He’d had no idea of where to actually look after his revelation. OOC: @BBBBalta @BULiK @Snelly @Rahisaurus @Tarn @Lady Takanuva @ARROW404 @~Xemnas~ @EmperorWhenua

[Road to Po-koro (Ranok)] “If I may suggest,” said Ranok, his voice slightly muffled by the wet cloth. “Perhaps we are following too much in other’s footsteps, instead of charting our own path.” “If this Keeping Place, as lovely as it sounds, held the secret to defeating Makuta, surely the Maru would have found it. Maybe, we need to look precisely what has been overlooked by the heroes of the past—what has been considered too public, to insignificant, too mundane.” OOC: @BBBBalta @BULiK @Snelly @Rahisaurus @Tarn @Lady Takanuva @ARROW404 @~Xemnas~ @EmperorWhenua

[Ko-koro, Approaching Outer Gates (Shuuan)] Part of the many reasons I intend to get myself killed before I grow old is there’s no way I am going to go through thinking about my numerous aches and pains every day. At least the crabs were there, like a soothing balm on my conscious. Little conception of pain, no thoughts except food, rest, and the possibility of making more crabs. Truly, a perfect creature. Perhaps I am being unfair, but it’s hard to describe the quiet that embraced us as we got higher. The elders aches and pains only felt loud because there was nothing else, nothing in the mental plane that shouted and chattered and worried and murmured. Every one of my physical senses seemed more alive in its absence, the flickers of snow falling on my cheeks sharp and cold and wonderful. As the walls loomed above us, I felt the urge to soar above them and into that city of blessed quiet, but alas, the points of spears looked very sharp. I said I intend to die before I get old, not as soon as possible. I could wait. For a reasonable amount of time. OOC: Shuan, Pradhai, Mako, Cephala, Raiyo and Company from Ga-koro. @Geardirector @Keeper of Kraata @Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva) Sorry for the wait.

[Road to Po-koro (Ranok)] Ranok listened intently to the conversation between Aurax and Nichou, but the usually talkative bard was silent—partly to avoid exposing his voice in the desiccating air and partly because the two matoran were giving shape to stories he’d only heard secondhand. The Keeping Place...that would make a lovely name for an instrumental piece, if he could capture the feeling of idyll... There was pattern in the story, like a barely-detectable leitmotif, though he thought it best not to voice it yet. Stannis, it seemed, had a habit of keeping to secret places. From what he’d heard of the toa of stone, it was a general part of the Maru’s demeanor, whether it was cultivated or simply the result of a long career of needing to stay one step ahead of Makuta’s servants. He had a hunch they might find any of the other Maru much more willing to speak. OOC: @BBBBalta @BULiK @Snelly @Rahisaurus @Tarn @Lady Takanuva @ARROW404 @~Xemnas~ @EmperorWhenua

[Ga-koro, Inner Port(Yukie)] "I won't say it wasn't...difficult. Rhow's been through quite a lot. I did my best to be a help and not a hindrance, but I think she might want some time to herself to consider what she has learned." He nodded to Zyla in return, trying not to let the electric thrill of the word toroshu distract him from the strange feeling of familiarity--he was sure he had seen the dashi before. There was also the lure, the trap of that word. He would not let it define him--it was a tool, not an identity. "I am equally grateful for your work of diplomacy, Mistress Dastana. I am trying to care for my people, and you do us a great service by seeking understanding with the people here." OOC: @Void Emissary

[Ga-koro, Inner Port(Yukie)] Yukie watched Rhow go, before standing up and walking back to the pair of Dastana. Evidently they had finished their interview with the reporter, and judging by Daijuno’s satisfied expression he wished he could have been privy to it—he must find a way to get a copy of whatever scroll the Mata-Nuians used to convey news. “I believe Rhow now has enough information to chart her own course,” he said, returning Daijuno’s appraising gaze. “Now, are there any other questions I can answer?” OOC: @Void Emissary

[Forsi, the road out (Ranok)] Ranok adjusted the moist rag strapped around his mouth and nose. His contribution the shopping trip had been mostly finding a succulent for Lapu—the hen-and-chicks had been perfect. It was unwise to fiddle with any of his instruments in the harsh desert air, and he found himself stepping from one foot to the other in absence of the familiar distraction. He looked at his companions, waiting to see who would make the first step. OOC: @~Xemnas~ @Harvali @ARROW404 @Lady Takanuva @Tarn @BULiK @BBBBalta @EmperorWhenua @Rahisaurus [Po-Koro, Technology Emporium (Ferellis)] A Po-skakdi in Po-koro…was just about the most normal thing on the island. It disconcerted Ferellis that she felt so out of place in the village, er city of stone when everybody else seemed to pay her absolutely no mind. (There had also been moments when she would have killed to look more like a helpless tourist in order to be offered directions.) Still, she was here now. She was actually doing this. Ting. She stuck her hands in her pockets as she waited for the shop workers to respond to the call bell. OOC: @Perp @Geardirector...and anyone else who works here.

[Ga-koro, Inner Port(Yukie)] :̶̫͐:̵̫̋T̴̗̉h̷͉̄e̷̦͗y̸͔͐ ̸͖͝w̶̛̺í̸̟l̵͇̉l̸̘̓ ̷͉̍n̷̅ͅe̶̛̺v̵͝ͅe̶͎̕r̴̡̿ ̵̝̏l̷̫͌o̶̖̕v̸̹́e̷̤̋ ̷̗̓ỷ̶̬ö̶̹u̶̡͛.̷̡̍:̵̣̍:̶̣̓ ::..but will you?:: Yuki shook his head. “I can’t say exactly, certainly many on my ships have longed for home on the journey to Mata Nui. There’s something about the place you came from that draws you, no matter how terrible it is on the surface. You want to make it better.” He looked out on the waves. “But you can’t do it alone Rhow. You have people here, people who trust you, people who you have fed enough to make up for the starving that clawed away your old life. Do not go alone. Surely, there are others that feel as you do?” *** IC: [Ga-koro, Docks/Inland Thoroughfare (Pradhai)] “This fresh child is Plagori Shuuan,” Pradhai said, ignoring the glare across the cart. “Despite the attitude she is very much capable, or so I’ve been told. Always helps to have someone who can look above the snow.” She surveyed the cart while stroking Laka’s scales. “I do believe we’re ready to set out--driver?” With a clatter of crab feet, the caravan set off, winding along the road and into the foothills, towards Ko-koro. OOC: @Geardirector @Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva) @Keeper of Kraata Old people squad, Raiyo and Shuuan to Ko-wahi. @Vezok's Friend feel free to either reply or head out at this point; I know you have plans for Rhow.

CW: torture, both shown and implied [Fort Garsi, Environs (Ipsudir/NPC)] The would-be surrenderer was watching for signs. He didn’t get any. The harpoon that Ipsudir carried was not, in terms of the technological wonders that Zakaz could produce, a very impressive weapon. But it did not need to be—the combination of well-oiled spring loaded mechanisms and sturdy barbed blade was fast and silent and gruesome in its work—the work of pain. It suited her. The blade streaked out of the yawning darkness of the entrance and stuck fast in the gap of armor under an armpit, embedding itself deep. Before his brain could process any of the terrible, ripping, wrenching pain Ipsudir had yanked him off his feet. The cranking mechanism in her weapon dragged him slowly, agonizingly toward the shaded entrance, but Ipsudir closed the rest of the distance herself, placing a foot on the prone warriors chest, pressing down as she drove the now compact harpoon deeper. “Surrender?” Her voice started soft, almost a purr, but it quickly rose in volume and intensity. “You come to my land, try to conquer my fortress, and when it turns belly side up you want me to invite you in for tea and crackers?” She twisted, so virulently that she sent the rifle slung across her back swinging, and the skakdi cried out as bloody foam spilled from his lips. “That ain’t how it works around here, sweetie.” She pointed at where Zenakra and Kirik were pummeling each other. “There, is where you should be. Such a fool, but at least she will die with honor. I will make sure her name is remembered.” With one last twist, she ripped out the weapon and spit on the skakdi’s face. Her eyes remained focused on the melee down the hill as she kicked him again for good measure. “Take this heu:nii to the dungeons,” she said, without turning toward her warriors at her her back. “Make sure he lives for as long as possible.” — Kerigor’s X-ray vision pierced through the fog, but he had stopped shooting once the group had achieved range—anyone brave enough to charge the fortress was dead already, and powder was after all, expensive. While scanning the remains of the battlefield, however, he caught the glint of unfamiliar copper. Grinning, he tapped his partner’s currently-holstered impact crystal launcher. “Shall we bring back a little bauble for the Lady?” OOC: @Geardirector @Techn0geist @ARROW404 @Visaru @Snelly

IC: [Sado, Imperial Gardens (Hatchi)] Hatchi chose a large steamed bun from a cart. It was mostly onions and gravy, with only a bit of meat, but the cook was well versed in her command of spices. They took it to where Tama had secured a pair of stones, much to Hatchi’s relief. They had learned to eat standing up in the stalls of the Imperial capital, but zi wouldn’t turn down a seat in the relative peace of the garden. The two ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, Tama heartily slurping her broth while Hatchi savored each bite of the savory-sweet mixture wrapped in spongy, filling dough. Hatchi wondered if Tama had a purpose in staying, or if she, like many of the other Ageru, was here because she was a sword on the side of a people too large to be packed in ships. As good as Hatchi was at reading intent, Tama seemed tired and hungry first and foremost, and the former caravan leader did not want to push her—seeing how much zi layed bare the last time they met. Zi opted to start with a gentle question. “What are your plans after this, Tama? Do you ride under the banner of the Rakumetsu Toroshu?” Kilanya’s deeds had reached even the rabble—Hatchi conceded it was a great symbolic gesture, and proof that she was willing to die for her people. No doubt the Ageru General’s skill was great, but arrows had been a lot more effective. OOC: @Geardirector