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About Razgriz

  • Birthday 08/25/1996

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    dragging casuals to fridgetanamo
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Tahnok-Kal Attacks!

Tahnok-Kal Attacks! (149/293)

  1. IC: Jolek "No worries, bro." It felt familiar, his rock-hard knuckles tapping against a friend's of similar mindset and conditioning. Once, this had been a daily occurrence. Once, it had been the signifier of a promise, just as much as this one was a friendship. The Lesterin seemed to have clear heading now— the fog of confusion that had knotted up his face no longer seemed to cloud his bearings. What the man had said was non-committal, sure— But this wasn't the first time Jolek had seen a renewed purpose and drive alight in the direction of this "Seprilli" even today. He'd find his way there, doubtless. He'd dig up whatever past was worth finding from the new memories and shape his future with it. Learn. Grow. Experience. This would be a journey in far more than mind, far more than miles— The kind that he was supposed to go on, before he began spinning his wheels. What the karz had happened to that? "Good luck."
  2. IC: Jolek "Well," he began, running back over what he'd known. "Just today I had a girl blaming some Pirate named Lokhar for getting from there to here." It was a name that'd popped up a few times before Hakari, but not so often that it seemed like he was the end-be-all answer to everything. If his pugilistic cohort recognized him, then it'd speed along the same lines as last time— maybe Jol's last name would help him out here too. If not... "Point of order being that it sounds like it's pretty far— past that fog you see way out on the cliffs. Need a ship for sure to get there." Back to general terms. There was only so much help he could give here, and not simply due to his own gaps in knowledge, either. More to the point— "That'd mean taking a hike to Ga, same way I sent her." he conferred. "It's not like we've got much of a port, let alone any Navy— couple of docks, really. The naval minded are packing their things and going north. You..." There were a few guards he could send this guy to to compare notes, but he'd not known any of them well. Gyrahn, A Skakdi of Earth, had invited him for drinks wiuth the fellas once, but been politely rebuffed as the fa-Toa was walking home. They'd not spoken three words since. Lasavra, a normally flighty wind Lesterin, seemed to close off whenever he caught her muttering about the sudden memories of Seprilli, like she didn't trust him listening in. The Rumbling Brothers, a Fe-Skakdi that Fought as much as he Drank and a Fe-Lesterin that Drank as much as he Fought, already didn't seem to like him— "too quiet. It's weird that he doesn't make a fool of himself a little." he'd overheard, before both gave him the side-eye as he'd ambled through the training area, before returning to packing their bags. Effectively, he didn't think any of these weirdos would help, and the others would barely know his name if the man dropped it. May as well just go the more direct route, in Jolek's opinion. "Your chances are much better if you swing up there and get through an actual crew."
  3. IC: Ageru Shiki (Fort Kizuno『Shiki, Daughter of Sasaki』) I see her eye close as she begins to reach out to me, and in turn I close mine. With the process beginning, there's no sense focusing on the world outside ourselves— distractions would take away the time we already don't have. Already, I feel the first probing tendrils of her Mind finding a path into Mine through my natural barriers, the sense of raw self that exists beneath even active shielding. Slowly, carefully, the sensation of Other advances through my tiny shell of Me, towards my mind. It's a little hard to put into words. My breath barely defeats the urge to hitch, only because of my self-control. Or maybe only because Kilanya-Toroshu Renshi Shishou Sensei is doing so less forcefully than she could, had she no care for my well-being. I suppose it’s egotistical of me to talk myself up in the face of this inexorable force upon my mind— "Ngh." I feel the probing stop, settling into me. Somewhere, a door opens. I look inward, rushing to greet my guest. Or perhaps I’m beckoned. I don’t know. I just know the urge moves me to my inner self. :There.: I fall upon the scene that fills me, deeper than sight, sound, and scent. It's not a memory. It's something etched into my Mind on a level deeper. This is where I am. The house of the soul is deeper still, but this is the world I call mine, rather than a snapshot of the world I live in. This is my inner world, presented before me once again. The lake of light that is my Soul, my inner Power, has settled into placid waters now, some fifty bio away from me. The surface, if anything, is more a boundary to the paths I take reaching it— like a well carved into my mind, reaching down into the energy of my soul. Already, I can see faint glimmers of the energy I had formed into a blade brightening the surface from a still navy to a gently rolling azure. The grass surrounding the waterfront is charred. That fire has burned me. It's burning me now. It burned so many that I can never forget, no matter how hard I try— But trying is sacrilege upon the holy gift I was given by the Sisters, and by the will of those who were sacrificed when I was spared. I have more to focus on, though. This landscape, and the rolling plains it's nestled between, are nothing new. I've always smelled the ash, and tasted the grasses upon the wind, green, brown, or black. My Toroshu is making contact now, her roots settling and passively drinking what she cannot Watch from even this state. My feelings carried in my body shake through the earth, unchecked thoughts on the wind and water. Our consciousness, that which Dictates and Thinks and Considers, is only so much of even the minds of the Dasakan people, so in tune with the planes of mental space and energy. I have to look at it. I cannot avoid that. For them, I can't. For Mom, I can't. What is there always has been, and always shall be. I cannot ignore it— just as I cannot ignore Her, newly set within. I just hope there is nothing she discovers that preturbs her, as I turn my inner gaze upon my most honored guest. I feel my searing eyes tear themselves away. An old, winding Willow Tree in the Lakefront plains, swaying gently in the wind that carries her voice of Thought all through me. This is… an alien sensation. As though I’m feeling the crashing wave of thunder through my boots and into my chest, rather than a distant storm’s rumble. It’s wholly divorced from Ideatalk. That is people showing their hands to the table— this is grabbing and shaking mine. wholly different, and very surprising. :We are linked.: The wind rolls, the branches creak, and the roots… I feel beneath me, yet Within Me. It is a careful, gentle, and clearly restrained Voice of Dominion, but even that rocks me to my core. I shudder, my mind shaking off the tingle of foreign presence within the paths that it she has carefully dug. :I hope you do not find the experience disorienting.: The sway of the curtains of leaves... feels apologetic, despite being composed and serious. Behind me, the lakebed stirs, then stills. I offer a wan smile— her hopes have gone less than answered, but I'll start adjusting to it soon. I'm already getting used to feeling the tethers, so I suppose it's of little worry, ma'am. Small price to pay for how worryingly easy that was for you—even though I'm not necessarily resisting, didn't it take all you had just to not punch straight through me? No. I snap myself of that train of thought, even as the feeling inevitably rumbles through the earth and ripples through the waterfront behind me. I walk forward, or maybe I float through the tailwind, or maybe slide along the grasses, or maybe I don't know at all, but regardless— I bring my mind close to the splinter of hers that she has, feeling an eager buzz among the leaves and a certain resolve in the steady push of the wind upon me. Making this form of contact, I remember, is only the first step— establishing the link that lets us get anywhere at all. A leaf breaks away from its branch and lightly settles onto my brow, brushed there by the wind. With it, a questioning sensation, not quite worried, but needing to be sure. Needing to hear, feel, Know my confirmation. "I'm getting through, aren't I?" would be the words, "If you can't hear or feel this, then we're going nowhere." the unspoken chance she is pretty confident she's avoided. I smile, appreciating all this, and make my las few steps forward, placing my hand on the knurled, winding bark. It quietly hums with the mental energy she is holding away, the sense of "another" that I feel on my mind— Just as the soil, grasses, and lake are Ageru Shiki, the mighty old Willow and all its winding branches are Ageru Kilanya. For a moment, I remember another with this sort of gentle strength— And for a moment, all I can see is Sasaki. It passes, and I return. I don't even know if I truly went anywhere. Memories are fickle in this place. Can't let them get in the way. "I hear you." :I'll manage.:
  4. IC: Jolek "It's..." Oh lord. This guy needed help. "It's more like scooping it. I never got anywhere punching water." ... Well. It'd been a few years. It might feel good. Lord knew his armor could use a break from soot. "Honestly, you oughta never punch like you're swimming. Don't think swimming like you punch* is too good either." *Unless very bad at punching, but fix that.
  5. IC: Jolek "Nah. Not worth it. Nearly drowned once."
  6. IC: Jolek ... The pause hung, churning in the air. He had approached this one every which way— come to and left each conclusion. "Hard to say." Seeing what had happened to him? No, not really. To reconcile half a childhood with an entirely different half a childhood, an identity and personality forged from the void, however nascent, with whatever had entered it and experienced dissolution... it all looked like it was twisting his new acquaintance in a knot. Like the synthesis of was and is was as torturous as it could ever be considered cathartic. ...Seeing the house he'd been living in, and remembering the faces of those that had claimed him theirs? Yes. To know who he was to them, to feel what they felt when they'd all but burst into tears at the relief of retrieving what they thought irrevocably lost. To understand the ties that bound them to him, and he to they— the network of pulls upon his person, links of life and memory that had been in one swoop shattered. To know, and be whole in knowing. To look upon his blood, and share their joy. But it never seemed like that was going to matter. "More like I haven't known enough now. You know? Memories." Forget those lost. Where were those he should have made?
  7. IC: Jolek "Yeah." He nodded simply. Speaking again, he answered the questions, all rhetorical until the last, in sequence. "Yeah. I have, but not for this." Inscrutable. Focused more on listening along than clearly conveying. "Yeah. I am."
  8. IC: Jolek "Yeesh, is that what that looks like in real time? Steady. Steady." he blurted openly, bounding off the wall to plant a hand onto the staggering Lesterin's shoulder. Though concern flitted across the features of his Pakari, it was marred by confusion and consternation in equal measure. A melange of tight frown and narrowed brow that couched his eyes as he took in the sudden outburst from what was formerly a tight-wound stoic of a man. "Maybe I should be glad I've still been in the dark— So that's you remembering this Seprilli and Zay-Kazz place for sure. Really is everyone..." Except him. If the names were enough to trigger it, then by now, he could prove that this had nothing to do with him. Well. In fairness, he already knew that. Just ruled out something unlikely. But still, that was then, whatever had happened. Compared to this, happening now, it was a mercy to forget.
  9. IC: Jolek "Nah. I'm good with directions." That one flippant, devil-may-care, assured by an adolescence of proof. "I've been... Here. Here and In There." This one none of that. Ponderous, strained. Faltering, as though there was more that needed, or maybe desired dictation. Yet couldn't, regardless. "Ga and Ko once, too, but only passed by." An afterthought, and not pretending they weren't. If he'd been pressed by his counterpart, he would've barely been able to name anything he'd done in either. When he pressed himself, for that matter, he could only come up with an idea of "something about a school?" He wasn't hiding anything— it wasn't him. However vexed it might leave the Lesterin, This was It. He clicked his tongue. "Signed on before I could fill the gap. Bombing and all— Speaking of, I should ask the same:" His eyes met the Lesterin's again, finally. Still narrowed, searching, they weren't hostile— just direct. Following a lead that was personal, not professional. "Lotta Lesterin and Skakdi we've got on call have had new memories turn up out of the blue on them lately. You from that..." "Seprilli...that's the island I'm originally from. It's the homeland of all Lesterin. I'm not sure why, but I remember it now." "Seprilli place too?"
  10. IC: Jolek Still staring in the direction of home?, the Fa-Toa's eyes narrowed for a moment, coming to a conclusion with an unspoken process. "...Nope." Maybe before he'd washed up, but that would have just been like all his family's stories to the conversation they were having now— secondhand. A beat later— No, two— Three, the— "Never been, actually."
  11. IC: Jolek The soft thumping rung through his bones, inaudible to the world around him as he mulled over the question. The thought of running out of trees was absurd, for one— but then again, the original wall-whacker didn't seem to be too familiar with the jungle. Even now, his monochrome counterpart wasn't certain if he was truly all too familiar with the city. Who was to say it was any different, then from him all of... how long had it been? A year ago? A few months? A decade? He'd never kept track, instead just letting it pass. In a way, it must have seemed like looking at a mirror of the road not taken. The tangle of wood and vine regarding and being regarded by the grid of stone and ash. A "dabbler" versus a "generalist". Trees and Walls. Known and Discovered. "Depends on the tree." he replied, enigmatic in the statement of the obvious. "Young ones with fruits like bananas are soft. Bendy. You can put all the force you can handle into it. Get good enough that you smash them down in time. Charred ones we've got here are stiffer. Brittle. Dry. Hard surface, but no give." Thump. His hand had pulled back until the fingertips brushed the stone behind again— and now swiftly turned over as the knuckles careened back into the wall with a stern report. Only so much velocity you could build up over a few inches; not enough to break skin, but enough to feel and compare. "But the hardwoods are different. They're big and dense, and their bark'll bend you long before you bend them. If you know what you're doing, you're not gonna blast those anywhere close to full speed. If you don't..." Half-theatrically, but wholly illustratively, he pulled the knuckles free from the pub behind him and shook them out. If anything, the wall might have been more forgiving on simple account of smoother surface, now that he'd done both. Here, he folded his arms in kind and leaned back into the relatively cool stone, before his eyes and head drifted South. "This whole town wouldn't be able to run out of either of 'em, let alone me. Not for a long time."
  12. IC: Jolek He nodded along, watching the hand protection slide into a previously unclocked pouch on the belt passively. For all the fella's tension moments ago, he seemed comfortable enough to humor the conversation— his earlier jabs (verbal and physical [snappy enough to take note of either way]) hadn't been the precursor to a back-alley brawl after all. Not a surprise, not really— things were never really escalating— but nonetheless a small relief. Secluded area in the middle of a worker's district meant everything was a little more rough-and-tumble, just by nature of where they were. Honestly, that was why he'd liked it. Kept him honest. "Dabbler's not a bad thing to be." he said simply, lifting his right arm to the wall behind him, opposite Myhruk's canvas. Slowly, calmly, he wrapped his hand into a firm, compact fist once his fingertips brushed the slate, before pressing his knuckles (first two, always) into the stone, as though testing the idea himself. "Everything's got ideas. Better a deep bag of tricks than a shallow one." His tone wasn't quite reassuring. More like elaborating, concurring. Whatever character judgement the Su-Lesterin feared, it wasn't coming from him. Rather, the only evaluation that mattered was technique. Having discovered the source of the noise, his initial curiosities were already satisfied— At this point, the off-duty enforcer was happily talking shop.
  13. IC: Jolek "Guard's the job." he answered pointedly, making a distinction he saw that the wall-puncher hadn't deigned to speak on. Maybe there wasn't one for him. Who the karz did conditioning on a solid, flat stone that thick? "As for the Art, I'd call myself more a generalist. I take it you are?" Not untrue, but hands were in his top three. He couldn't help liking kicks and knees.
  14. IC: Jolek The Fa-Toa blinked, almost nonplussed, then felt his brows begin to draw close, just so. Guy wasn't a talker per se, but... Well, his tongue was acrid enough. Testy fella. "I grew up in Le-Wahi." he replied, offering little more than a shrug as he folded his arms. "They were there. Charred Forest isn't too much of a hike for me, so I keep the habit." Folding in his next answer to the grunted questioning, he pointed back towards the wall of carved slate, pockmarked with scuffs and scrapes from the impact of the metallic rings upon its formerly uniform surface. "And being honest, part of it's the rounded surface and material of the wood having enough give to go bareknuckle on and make sure my form's correct—" Wryly, the corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Another part's that I'm pretty sure that's the back room of a tapestry place you're knocking on. I'd get complaints."
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