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Year 14


About Razgriz

  • Birthday 08/25/1996

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    dragging casuals to fridgetanamo
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    freeing joe son

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Tahnok-Kal Attacks!

Tahnok-Kal Attacks! (149/293)

  1. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] As the brief exchange played out between the Ko-Toa and Le-Toa, moments behind their remarks on the rock he was talking to, the outstretched finger confirmed two of her three claims as that investigative poke on the forehead made contact, prompting her (presumably Red-Star-borne) glow to spike and shift to an indignant magenta. The names she rattled off, hands on her hips, as "people who wore her" meant... well, nothing much. But the feeling of etched and carved geode was impossible to mistake, even after all this time. She was no illusion. Whatever else may have been the explanation, mundane or mystical, inanimate rock was standing here. Arguing with him. Rattling off a story with too many working, unfamiliar parts for him to specifically deny. By hook or by crook, she had life breathed into her. Real. Tangible. "...The Red Star can do all that? How big of a world have I been clueless about this whole..." Did he know what to make of that? Of course not. Nobody does when little statuettes go from greeting them to yelling at them in the span of two sentences. But he knew very well now that he was sorely lacking in life experience. Not enough to deny this many senses in tandem. Whether or not she actually was some Sanok could be determined later, right now... His arms folded, and beneath his Pakari nostrils flared as he accepted this shift in reality. Rocks don't talk, but this rock could. Frustration, resolution, contemplation... whichever mentality prompted it was unclear, but his instinct to reset after a moment was, in short order, validated. "Right. Okay, nice to meet you, you're the weirdest thing I've ever met. I hope we can be good friends." “Jolek… Highwind?” The gravelly voice sounded to his left, opposite Luten and matching with the footsteps he'd been noting down while he'd made sense of her. The Po-Matoran whom it belonged to standing with a small bit of parchment in his grasp, squinting at the writing as he read off the name. Dehkaz had already marked him down, and gone on leaving anyway? He knew he'd been read like a book just from talking with the man, but that was still quite a bit of faith. His accent was unmistakable, and seemed out of place surrounded by water. Po-Wahi. Had to be. That brought up another question about the more clipped, icy tones coming out of the big man's mouth, but first things first. “That you, yea? Captain’s looking for ya, c’mon.” He'd made a bit of a commotion and was also here with a De-Toa five feet away, so that was one explanation for how the boss had known he'd boarded. In the confusion of talking with four people at once (a personal best since the Lavapool Incident), there was plenty of time and diversion for Krayn to have surreptitiously alerted his CO... "We can chat more when Dehkaz is done with you. I've got a couple of questions, when you've got the time." Krayn gestured after the retreating Matoran, mostly with the wrist, and inclined his head slightly to the new Toa to bid him— for the moment— farewell. "Good luck." But meeting his eyes, Jolek found none of that mischief from moments ago, hinting at something he'd missed. There had to be another way, then. How... He returned the nod after that moment's searching, before sending one the way of the Po-Matoran as he started off behind, ambling towards an unvarnished hatch in the flooring of the boat, once again returning to proper focus as a fortress of steel that slipped through the murky waves without sinking. He'd felt the man's personal field brushing against his, that day they'd met in the Forest— this morning. Even within such a beaconlike mass, as though a candle surrounded by floodlights, had he still picked Jolek out by the time he'd pulled himself to shore? So many questions. "Perfect. So was I." So much I don't know. ... Abandoned against the railing, knife and pack sat, forgotten in the tumult.
  2. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] The boy's head rose a moment later, with much, much less reverence leaking from behind the veil of oblivion, motion spurred by none of the same ghosts of treasured memories. His brows were high on his mask, expression slack, nonplussed. Either he was unwilling or unable to hide that much, as the sentence bounced around like hammer of a strange bell inside his skull. "Huh?" Gilded eyes flicked back and forth, between Praggos and Krayn, the latter of which he'd long read as having the most authority of the assembled ranks short of the goliath they awaited. "Isn't he wearing i—?" That same chime from before, now much louder than he'd bargained for, and just off his rightward flank. "Hello there!" "Gyah!" One of his better attributes as a martial artist was his ability to turn, pivot, cut angles, and general agile use of the feet. This conferred innumerable advantages in a brawl, where positional awareness was the key that opened the door to all lines of defense and attack. Here, taken by surprise, his gut instinct produced prodigous torque through the ankle and hip as he whirled and sprung back a good bio and a half, forearms raised in a loose guard. The crystalline construct, glittering in the moonlight, continued her greeting and waving unabated, small enough to stand comfortably on the railing. While there were several things that felt off about being referred to as "Mister" in any capacity... His posture went slack a moment later, hands lowering as he crept forward again, eyeing the crystalline curiosity with more intrigue than wariness. He didn't sense any malice from her, but in all his years of living alongside a Cy-Toa... he'd never known crystals to start talking and taking names of their own. "...'Luten'? Nice to meet you too, but I gotta say you don't look much like a mask to me. I know a mask maker." He slowly raised a finger. All present would see that he meant to poke her on the brow. His eyes narrowed, squinting. She was a strange existence even to learned and urbane, worldly and experienced. "You're not a little crystal person? Are you even real?" A guy like him was roundly going to be hopeless.
  3. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] Something familiar there. Inexplicable. Competitive, yet at the same time comforting. Irked at the challenge he felt. Humbled by the breadth of learning before him, within the people, within the ship, within the name. "Well, I'm starting from nothing. I know that much, but it's not like I can leave now anyway. I'll get there. I've got to." A thousand miles. One step. Nothing to inform him... But nothing to shackle him to something from before. No before to be shackled to. A thousand strikes learned. One strike, a thousand times mastered. Foundational. The Void, the blank canvas, filling, finding a frame, finding color. From emptiness, structure, leading again into emptiness. Words in far-off tongues. Kru, Sensei. Walking a path trodden before, granted a guiding hand by those further down the length. Shaking off the ash that choked and dulled him, pure, empty white beneath. "Until then," The ground before him bare, polished each morning by hand to almost a mirror sheen. He had felt this somewhere. He had known that flicker behind the De-Toa's eyes, long ago. He inclined his head into a half-bow at the waist. "I'll be in your care, everyone."
  4. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] "Then that's the lead I'll follow." he nodded, taking a sip as he regarded the taller Toa. Gukko Force. Meaning, Krayn had come up in and cut his teeth in Le-Wahi, same as Jolek. It wasn't as though Highwind had any allegiance to speak of to the village— It was nestled far further inside the thicket than his old stomping grounds, a stone's throw away from the coast. The jungle was far and away big enough that the only real interaction he'd ever known of the authorities was hearing the birds they rode, leagues to the north. As a "shared heritage" went, it was definitely paltry... but it wasn't nothing. Familiar terrain, familiar surroundings, familiar weather— even that much was a leg up compared to most folks, kindly as they generally were, in Ta-Koro. Even that much counted enough, with little else to speak to. He wondered what the chances were that they'd barely missed eachother for a moment, an "independent officer" travelling the sometimes-overgrown footpaths the same day two "off-the-grid vagabonds" decided to track big game through their neck of the woods. Wasn't much. Wasn't zero, either. "I can work with someone who'll look me in the eye one way or another— I can't work in a cage. If it's just Dehkaz..." He took in a deep breath— filling his lungs with air that was already colder, cleaner, stronger than what he'd grown used to. Much more like home. "He seemed like he had a good read on me— I'll trust his judgement."
  5. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] "Water, please." he replied, almost absently. No hard decision to make— despite everyone around him's best efforts, he found his tongue to only tolerate the flavor of alcohol at best— a restarted life spent in the humid jungle meant he was far more familiar with its' uncontrolled cousin in rot. Hard to get used to, hard to find the point in. But right now, he didn't really have much focus to spare upon the decision in the first place. "I'd been wondering about that— noticed the insignia on his armor. Was wondering why Po-Koro would detach a lone guard into the Charred Forest. My guess was something like Warrant Officers." He then frowned, folding his corded arms. "I have to ask, how do you dodge getting muddied down by the red tape? You left yourself out of the Sentinel Parade in that sentence. Wouldn't expatriates like us only have more hoops to jump through, between the Sentinels and whoever they're borrowing us from?" He took the chance to get out of the system. If he'd just thrown himself into the bowels of a second, let alone the first, he'd probably go find out for himself just how shallow the bay was or wasn't, and solemnly vow never to turn back from that initial "warrior nomadism" idea again as the black of suffocation took him. "If I throw in with you guys, what makes it not more of the same that I skipped out on by showing up here?"
  6. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] "Don't got any, near as I know. I can't speak to owning much." He must have had a separation that healed bad, but either way, it looked like something lived with at this juncture. "Yep. Yeah. Kinda."
  7. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] "What the other path is. Bigger than the villages, bigger than the island." For a moment, his gaze left Krayn and found the middle distance. In the swirl that an untimely sleep following one skipped completely left the memory, the absent Captain's words needed a moment to piece themselves together from the fore. The waking moments he'd afforded himself since had all been a rush— all he knew was that he'd have gone crazy if he didn't go down the road he'd never worked up the nerve, conviction, motivation, whatever it was... to take. There was barely even any time to half-form the question that slipped into the air. "Dehkaz said that if I wasn't fit to be a good Guard, I should swing by here, and see what could be done besides wait for the trouble to come to us. I can't say he mentioned 'Aggressors', but..." His head quirked a little to the side, as if acknowledging an unmade point. "It sounds like the name fits. And I'm a pretty bad beat cop. Here I am."
  8. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] "Musta been as passerby," he snorted as she left, shrugging. "Whatever. Appreciate the hospitality." He wasn't totally thirsty, but despite learning certain social graces well after the fact, even a jungle boy understood the import that the gesture of offering food or drink to guest held. Having to hunt one's food each day, if anything, made it all the more pointed— sharing without guaranteed supply was a generosity so much the harder to be able to give. The twin gleams on Krayn's hip and ribcage were hard to miss, confirming Jolek's suspicions that he'd needed to be wary... But closing that range to offer a hand in turn did a lot of work to assuage the concern. Projectile weapons this close hindered more than they helped... And the De-Toa knew that. A firm gripping hand closed around his host's, careful not to crush, as he pulled himself up. "Jolek." First names it was, then— he wasn't here to coast on a reputation whose scope he didn't even know anyway. "And wherever he is, I feel like we oughta track him down— I need an explanation, and you guys need proof I'm not lying."
  9. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] "...Feel like I've seen you somewhere before." The vague sense of familiarity he was confident in, but the specifics were evading him. Her theatrically lazy circuit around him had given him time to try, in the moments she'd remained in view— but the people aboard seemed dead-set on splitting his attention one way or another. He wasn't getting much. Considering her sudden entrance from high up there, he had a feeling she could be quieter, sneakier than this— meaning the circling, in hunting terms, would be drawing the attention. Feinting worked in all Ways. He'd kept his gaze fixed on the grey toa through that time. He could hear her and feel her footfalls on the wood, enough to keep track of the space if nothing else. For a moment, the almost imperceptibly faint ring of wind chimes from the direction of the Ko-Toa joined the mental map he was putting together... And running through the short list of supplies, nothing he'd brought would jangle like that. He didn't think he'd seen any hanging low enough to propogate from there. So what gave? His gaze narrowed a smidge, looking over the grey and silver armoring below the black Sanok this "Krayn" guy wore as the Le-Toa drew up alongside him. So he had to be one of those sound elementals. That drew a frown, and with it more questions than answers. He shifted. Part of him wished he'd brought Rebellion along and found a justification for it later. Was that supposed to be some kind of cue? Why else would they be going through all this trouble? He had to play it cool here, not get sucked into their pace. "Had to be in Ta-Koro, of course. Been stuck there from the bombing till now."
  10. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] "Works for me." His eyes held for a moment, as if waiting for posture to shift with the new position, but returned to the fisherman with a blink. Nothing he could do to catch him by surprise that far out he couldn't have done anywhere on the ship, Jolek reasoned, and no way he'd get close enough to do anything else quick enough to catch him cold. Best watch the other for now.
  11. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] "I got a good nap in before heading down this way." Jolek offered in counter, tracking the Ko-Toa's ambling over to the knife he had, thankfully, managed to get onto the flooring— but refusing to let the other man leave view. Bunch of injured guys on this ship, he was noticing— though he moved pretty well on the subtly wonky surface provided him (even boats this big could rock a little, evidently), he wasn't able to conceal the hitch in his stride. Assuming he even meant to. "Wasn't a lot to bring to begin with."
  12. IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] In the moments where his arc over the railing offered him respite from the exertion and adrenaline, Jolek realized that these desperate, prodigious bursts of explosion and speed left his lungs feeling like they'd been filled with sand— and he spent the first couple seconds breathing ragged, deep, filling himself with fresh air again. Or, well, as fresh as air got downwind of an active firepit. "Yeah... You can... tell me something." whether by stride or by stroke, a sprint was a sprint, and he felt it through the whole body even after he'd gotten enough wind in him to get some words out. Golden eyes flickered between the assortment of bodies he was confronted with— the more seasoned fighters among them (and they were seasoned. everything about this was way more placid than normal people would be about the knife thrown at them and the charge sent their way, even after they'd gotten the cards all over to their table by hauling him up and surrounding him) likely to recognize the direction his brain was going on automatic. The tall one who hauled him up was, height aside, every bit Khyrilik's opposite. Gaunt, too much for his frame, and favoring his left arm. Not a person that exuded command or raw power, but... Highwind pulled himself to a seat, legs crossed and hands planted on his knees. From the base of his spine, something flowed through each nerve as he locked eyes with his interrogator. "I'm here for the job offer. Does this boat have a Dehkaz Khyrilik on it?" he spoke again, all but a moment later, his breathing cadence recovered. It had taken a little time to reset, but he wasn't sparing much thought for it beyond the sense that it'd be necessary. Despite appearing a wounded animal, the Toa'd coolly kept him well out of the distance where his superior condition (to say nothing of technique) would break him in half. He was reedy where Jol was lean, but similarly rough around the edges. Injured where Jol was in proper fighting shape, but no less efficient in the mechanics of hauling him up, in moving the weight around, or in keeping his presence of mind through any of this budding exchange. A hungry wolf was a vicious one. An animal that knew it was wounded would be twice as ready to keep itself safe. Calmly accepting him aboard was more than it looked on its face. "Not like I'm spoiled for choice when it comes to 'dock at sundown', but he's hard to miss and I don't see him."
  13. IC: Jolek [Ta-Koro Docks] As tension slowly threaded itself back into the line via some unseen mechanism (maybe pulling from further back? No, too steady and too smooth), Jolek took a moment's rest as the hook dragged him along through the darkening waters. They were chatting up there, words he could quite make out yet, but it was readily apparent that he had more than one witness to this stunt with piqued interest. That much he didn't mind... But he was, growingly, conscious of how far he'd now run himself out onto open water at night. For all he could boast of experienced swimming and comfort borne of the crystalline shallows that hugged the southeastern corner of Le-Wahi, that very same experience quickly reminded him that he was a karz of a lot like bait on this ad hoc fishing line, as far as anything big that made its home in these waters may have been concerned. He'd faced down predators before, sure... but he'd always made sure to do it on solid ground, where he was born to move upon. The sea was a place he visited. From the day his memories started, the day they had kicked him back onto shore, that was a relationship he made sure to respect. All that being enough time to catch a breath or three. His left hand reached forward, further up the line. Taut as it was now, pulling himself along would surely speed things up. He set to it like so many vines in youth, a steady progression of hand over hand, pulling with the back. By his own measure, he wasn't the biggest guy in the world— even for as thin as the crewman high above seemed (it might have been the stark angle playing weird with his height, who knows), Jolek doubted he was going to do anything ridiculous like pull him overboard. If I do, then his buddy in white over there better be dense enough for both of us.
  14. IC: Jolek [Ta-Koro Docks] His muscles were aflame, but the raw power the Pakari put through them was making up for the buildup of fatigue— that said, they were sorely out of practice. It was unavoidable, after being posted up in Ta-Koro for so long. The resigned notion passed through Highwind's head as he churned through the blackened water, sharply breathing in with each stroke that carried his mouth above water. It wasn't like he'd had nearly such easy access to the coast, nor so hospitable an inlet, as he did back in the jungles to the south. Swimming was a primal movement, a great stress-test of the cardiovascular systems... but it was too a skill. And skills, you either use or lose. Right now, as the wind picked up around him, Jolek was, for all his effort, losing. Karz, there wasn't any way the wind was that strong yet, to move a vessel that size. He was being pummeled by unexpected currents beneath the surface, too, ripples that didn't make sense to come from even the wake of a ship this big. What on earth... did they have a Ga-Toa helping them set off? That'd make sense, but more importantly— A rough bark on the next exhale spoke the volumes of his straining frame and pounding heart. Whatever the mechanism Dehkaz's ship was using to accelerate, it could keep at this for a good long while, even longer than Jolek's conditioning allowed the front crawl from— A wrenched himself over in a sudden barrel roll, as something fast and metallic shot forth from overhead. His knife? Had they tossed his knife back at him? He scanned the water ahead, finding a black line that hung low from one of the side railings, terminating in... There. A hook, just wider in its curve than most Toa's forearms. Tracing a look back up the length of the line, his eyes met those of the silhouette, tall and lean, that braced it against deck, looking at him expectantly. He'd half believed this a reprisal for chucking a knife at them out of the blue when the glint had caught his eye between breaths— But even if they're mad about that, this far out I don't have much other choice. Take the line, get on the boat, and whatever response I've earned I deal with. Through grit teeth, he kicked furiously to make up for the distance he'd let slip in getting his bearing, one more spurt to force out of his screaming back and legs. In short order, his hand closed around the metallic stem of the (thankfully mostly dull) multi-pronged hook, lacing his arm through the inside, and gave two distinct tugs, like a trout on the line.
  15. IC: Jolek [Ta-Koro Docks] The gunmetal and silver glimmer on the docks felt his lungs burning as he surged out onto the rickety wood of the pier, reinforced by enough steel to handle the thudding impact of each stride without giving in where it cracked. He'd had extra ground to cover even before the horn sounded, cluing him into the ship setting off— by the time the balls of his feet had touched dead tree and not ash, the ship was already well on its way out. He was gaining that ground back, certainly, but there was only so much time left before the hulk slipped out of the "port" entirely— A strained baring of teeth on his face, a wordless snarl, as he skid to a halt, shoulders rising and falling like much rougher seas. A chip of wood knocked loose by the sudden stop fell into the drink. Dully, he heard the splash beneath, eyes still affixed. The ship continued on, slinking further into the murky night that approached. Unlike him, it didn't need to stop with the dock. He didn't have a Kakama. He'd been far enough to still see a glimpse of Ta-Koro through the haze when the horn hit his ears— Now, as it sounded again, it seemed to have a clear message, one that rung between his ears rather than within them. This is a test, the hulking vessel's retreating form seemed to say in Khyrilik's voice, If you don't want it, I don't want you. One breath. Two. It was leaving. The third. Something. Anything. It wouldn't stop for him. He couldn't stop either, then, or he'd go back home, tail shamefully tucked between his legs. The Fa-Toa unslung his pack from his shoulders, untying it and drawing the knife from his belt. His eyes flickered across the sea, at the receding stern, at the edge of the pier, calculating distances. Now or never. His mask glowed, surging impossible strength through his muscles as he reared his hand back, gleam of steel catching the last embers of evening light— His first, last, only chance. — and every fiber fired in accord as he launched the knife, payload hastily tied off to the handle, at the rear mast. It streaked through the air in a high, fast arc. If nothing else, he was pretty sure he'd at least get his stuff aboard. He couldn't wait to track it the whole way, didn't have time, had to get going after it— Pulling back two, three, four strides, Krayn would see the curiosity he'd clocked take no more than two lungfuls of air, before that Pakari sent him sailing forward in a running dive for distance of his own, slicing through the placid surface in the ship's wake.
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