Razgriz

IC: "What's with all the..." the Fa-Toa squinted at the Matoran, carefully shuffling towards him with what looked like a wooden tablet in hand, likely a more rudimentary form of the clipboards that dominated the workrooms of any Guard higher-ups. "...wooden kanohi?" His question was posed rather bluntly. As far as he was aware, he'd never really come across this particular... I guess you'd call it styling? When it came to external protection, even those armor sets composed of wood he'd come across had always been geared more towards simple function than such consistently recurrent form. Noble Ruru. Noble Ruru. Noble Ruru. They formed pauldrons for his upper arms, a skirt of rounded plates for his lower body, even one over his true mask to shield the face from incoming strikes as well as (well, maybe more importantly) from view. Certainly unique stuff... On his back was a launcher, probably modified for grapple and reel in the cable and hook were anything to go off of. Didn't seem a bad idea once he gave it a little thought— the denser trees near the center of Le-Wahi, from which their course'd suggest they came, would be more than amply robust enough to support the weight of everyone here combined. Even throwing in the two unconscious lugs in the background would sooner wear out the crank than the tree. As a weapon, it... might have served some off-kilter use, too. Probably more slapdash fighting than, say, a simple spear, but a sharp end was a sharp end. Sharp ends getting launched were dangerous no matter how, why, or what. All in all, it made for a karz of an ensemble. This must have been a pretty colorful guy, to contrast the simple transparency Jolek had known in those very same jungles for years. Odd though it seemed, he had no right to begrudge. While he had been taking stock of the bronzed matoran's equipment, the matoran had in turn been searching— and with a single finger, indicated a specific phrase upon the sheet of paper attached to his clipboard: Ga-Wahi. At this, Jolek leaned back with a slow nod, look of dawning comprehension gracing his Pakari as he folded his arms. "Ah." So he's a mute? "Ga-Wahi, then, we're just the throughway. That isn't too hard," he replied, content not to press any further for the moment his curiosities. "If you want to use the main Koro-to-Koro roads I can lead everyone outta the brush and back on the trail to Ga—If not, and you're content to just keep cutting through the forest... straight shot North oughta work." his right hand, the same hat had formerly rested upon the sword, swung out directly to the side, eyes still trained perfectly on the matoran of many masks. As a Fa-Toa, his internal compass was good to a fault— saved him countless times in the jungle. "You ought to either run into the city, or into the coastline. So long as you keep straight as the Kahu flies, you'll hit one or the other, and you can probably spot the first if you just keep walking along the second." His eyes now recentered to bring the other two back into his vision. The Lesterin seemed a good sort and her demeanor hadn't really changed through the one-and-a-half-sided conversation, but their third compatriot remained silent. He... Did trees come to life when Jolek wasn't looking? He'd be harder to read.

got sick and at home sinus not covid

IC: "Sanctum... isn't that Ko-Koro?" he asked in undertone, half to himself, as his eyes continued to study the shapes marching through the burnt brush and into the clearing. Friendly looking group enough, and certainly not hungry for a fight given how openly that Lesterin called out her greeting... He let his shoulders slack some, posture rising a little even as he stayed in stance, one foot behind the other, ready to move swiftly. His right hand loosened too, now resting upon his pommel as opposed to clutching the hilt. With his left, he waved back to the trio. "I got started helping process some of the refugees from there... huh." His tone seemed to almost be one of reminder to himself rather than venturing towards any real point. Perhaps he was hunting down a connection to the frozen north he'd never visited. A context to place things within. Be a change of pace. "You three traveling to the village?" he called, voice carrying clear now that the fight had closed off. As a guardsman, he was pretty sure he owed them (and their Le-Toa compatriot) a trip back... Plus, he knew the shortest way all but like the back of his hand. That was the reason Mama Clench had taken him aboard after all— as much as anywhere in Ta-Wahi had been, this was Jolek's neck of the woods. Reminds me, actually. Out of the corner of his mouth, he circled back to the matter of the Ash Lads one final time. "If you insist I'll take some, Zelvin, but I don't need too much. Never have."

OOC: This was posted while camping a wall plug at an airport. Please be patient. IC: Even as he surged forward, even after months of wearing down beneath the burgeoningly industrial confines of the small world of Ta-Koro, Jolek’s senses had yet to leave him through the heat haze of adrenaline. If anything, they’d sharpened, moreso than he’d felt in ages. Combat had its way of heightening the Self. Whatever that may have been. He heard the crack. Through the hum that had practically become the roar of an oncoming swarm, one that engulfed the clearing in lockstep with the pulsing alabaster light that washed over it, his ears still caught the sound of rock fracturing in hairline. In spite of his good senses, he instinctively threw his head over his shoulder, beholding a second sun rising from beneath the ever present fog of thick, sulphuric Mangaia ash— “Hey, wait—“ And Zelvin standing tall, almost in perfect mimickry of his earlier folly. He wanted to trust her to know what she was doing, after all, the crystalline shell was her idea to begin with. He knew that logically, she had enough experience to keep herself safe. The gunmetal Fa-Toa nonetheless skidded to a stop, turning and inexplicably doubling back. Even though he’d barely had time to make safe distance… he’d already passed Mama Clench. That old woman was even stepping forward. She’s gotta be way too close. The built up force of that popping’d— Oh, Karz. A solitary filament, a ribbon of lethal white, forced its way through the the hairline. Too late. The dome burst, exactly as he’d realized it would, sending a cascade of crystal shards in all directions. The almighty thunderclap had raced the fragments there, washing over the clearing and rattling Jolek’s eardrums. He grit his teeth, thankfully far enough that the explosion’s concussion didn’t hurt him— Something quick slammed into his brow, prompting him to duck down behind crossed forearms in that same pastiche of a shoulder roll from earlier, as wet warmth cascaded down over his eyelid. A small shower of fragments buffeted his cross guard for not even a half-second storms of nicks, scrapes, and bruises— Before a shield of earth bore the brunt of the heavier, larger chunks flying out from the epicenter. There weren’t any Onu-Toa that he’d spotted before now… the newcomer’s mask? And then, inexplicably, he felt the shards pulling back. Even the fragments that had embedded themselves into his arms (one even in his Pakari, shamefully) were drawn out, the earthen shield crumbling as that first wave of chunks tore its structure out with them. He looked onward, with a tight, pensive jaw, as the brunt of the shrapnel, before it could even reach those two layers of defense, had stopped in midair. He wiped the crimson blood from atop one of his golden eyes. He hated being wrong this many times in quick succession. First complacent, then panicked, and now totally out of his depth. He thought he’d felt enough force built up within that bubble that Zelvin was endangered by the bursting air alone. I wasn’t even close to judging the range, then? Or is it that I thought her to be too fragile? Unconsciously, his teeth ground together beneath the thin, tight line of his expression. …Don’t even have the luxury of knowing, do I? Amateur. Numbskull. You knew you were dumb already, but now… Okay. So, she used her elemental control to take care of all but the smallest and quickest shards, coalescing them into those two gems in her hand, right? That’s why I’m not picking rocks out of my armor right now. I thought I felt enough force built up in that thing to send a shockwave through the air, like a Madu, but… He walked forward to meet her, minding the cut on his brow with a couple fingers. Head wound bleeding like all karz… but not very deep. Tale old as time. At the very least, he could recapture a little dignity, maybe even a little pride, by continuing to look at how he’d messed up without making excuses. I guess I need to figure out how all that electricity relates… to explosions. I guess. Did the rock absorb some of the brunt too? Maybe it’s that. Harder to break through taking more of the raw force. And that was why the shrapnel managed to get a little sneakers out and into me. ”All yours, ma’am. I… I actually don’t know if Guards can process bounties the same as freelancers like you.” he said, somewhat deflated as the high tension left him. Reaching forward and concentrating, he bound the pair’s hands together with magnetic force— first Red, then Green. He regarded the gems in her palms again. Mastery bred that sort of cool head, huh? Like he felt in a fistfight, she knew her exact capability when it came to manipulating those shards, that dome, the vortex that had swirled into them. She could take those risks all day, because she had the experience and training. He looked down to his own palm, the same he’d cuffed the Skakdi with, and grunted beneath his breath, an unvoiced grumble. Couldn’t dream of holding a candle to that. Not now. Maybe never… No. That way lies dea— A rustle in the bush, far off. Branches snapping. He scanned the field, spotting their mutual acquaintance perched in a nearby tree. Too close, not him. Good that he was okay, but not their incoming— “Company.” he spoke, voice caught between the states of tension and the previous release. He wouldn’t get caught unawares again. “I hear ‘em. They’re not trying super hard for me not to, either.” Not knowing what was headed his way, Jolek felt his hand returning to that short guard’s sword, and his stance settling low as he faced the direction of the noise. Prepare for worst, hope for best.

IC: Rudra, 小さい竜 (Chiisai Ryuu)Bridge He, having satisfied himself with the fidelity of his ploy and optical deceptions thus far, had taken the moment to turn almost fully away from Tazera, who he'd last seen as being absorbed in her checking up of the place. Surely these things took enough time that a guy could spare an extra thirty seconds or so, when cloaked from her view by a perfect 1:1 copy of the doorframe. Overcaution was the death knell for opportunity, you see— better to just devote his attention for a few moments than split it for a minute more. Now the knob wasn't all that complicated. Just a simple wheel on a corkscrew mechanism to secure the bulkhead shut and latch it free again, essentially a regular knob made a little sturdier and more esoteric due to this room's importance. The lock, however was a bit of a tricky-looking thing that he was mildly certain served, in effect, as a deadbolt. Not one to second-guess, he grunted a little as he yanked it into what was probably the right place, going off of what understanding his short thieving career had given him of locks and such, But what was that Rama-like buzzing behind him? The image flickered in the corner of his eye, and he saw a streak of orange light crossing its boundaries right into his scapulae. Oh just carking BALLS! He threw himself into the door at the last moment, but the crackling lash little miss fastidious had swung into him wasn't so easily escaped— the sparking energy tore through the thick cloth of his shabby coat like a knife, drawing a thin line of whitehot (not the one up there, you morons) pain across his back as it sliced into the top layers of Vo-Toa beneath. His mind raced, a thousand thoughts barraging the forum of his train of thought. Where had he screwed up? They could do those energy sword things in flexible form as well? Had she caught him back out in the corridor? His mouth too raced, expressing what he was feeling just as fast as he was thinking. "GAH! ####! WHAT THE KARZ, YOU PSYCHO BI#CH?! IT WAS A FRIGGIN' PRANK!" Perhaps faster than any thinking could be done, actually, but no less eloquent. Nonetheless, the lapse of concentration lead to the shattering of the illusion, revealing to the Lieutenant one male Toa the color of sea foam, Hau-shaped Mahiki contorted into a grimace of pain and anger. Where could he go from here? Where could he have gone to not get here? Was talking an option? He turned to face the lieutenant, one hand twisted be hind his back to grab at the burning slash the soul whip had left him, still crackling and spitting in her grasp like an angry orange viper— "No, y'know what, screw this—" And his opposite whipped up into a finger gun as he made a very, very quick decision. The smell of ozone began to fill the air as a pinprick of white light appeared against the tip of his outstretched pointer finger, aimed squarely at his antagonist. He'd never really faced another person in combat before now. In terms of voltage, it was best said plain— He had no idea how many it took to stun another Toa. He basically just figured that if a certain strength killed and half-roasted a fish from the bay, it'd probably make a person think twice about gunning for him. Blasting her with that would certainly be decent payback, so hopefully things progressed from there in his favor. Ha. "Gunning". Sit on it and spin, ya stuffy dickhead! And a bolt of the makers' fury burst forth from that point of white, the snap of a small thunder filling the bridge as the lightning surged along the line his finger had set out. Whether it crashed into the officer and incapacitated her or blew out a window in a straight miss, either was at the very least enough of a show of force to get this woman thinking twice, and from there he might've still had a chance at wrangling a deal for the ship out of this. Kinda did want to just take it, though. Spite her extra.

IC: Rudra, 小さい竜 (Chiisai Ryuu) Interior Her fingers fell short, nearly brushing up against the man beneath the illusion as it slid back. For a brief moment, Rudra had worried he wouldn't make it in time— but that was, of course ill-founded. athletic as the foreign Toa looked, she was idly grabbing for something she didn't expect to run, whereas he could be downright slippery from any posture, even curled up inside a basket. He came to a stop a scant few fractions of an inch further, and gazed at the woman outside his illusion with narrowed, tense eyes. He had to admit, this was a very close call, still in progress. If she had sussed him out... For a moment, she clicked her tongue in annoyance, and looked ready to reach out again after momentarily folding her displeased arms. He was at a crossroads, and knew it. He could potentially scam one more slide out of this, but at this rate, taking her out of the picture was beginning to look more and more necessary— She then straightened up, raised a finger to her temple in what looked like concentration... And walked right into the bridge. Great Spirit, I am so godd#mned smart. Exactly what he was waiting for! She'd not even closed the door behind! This was the big chance! He gave it all of a second's listening, confirming no other voices greeting the woman obviously in charge around here, no stamping of feet (nearby) as sailors snapped into their sailorly salutes (he assumed they had them), nothing at all convinced him she was anything but alone in there. There wasn't a moment to waste. He rose to a low crouch from his seated posture, the illusion of the plant that had given his gateway so much consternation shimmering away in his wake, specks of glitter and gossamer silently deconstituting from the image. Creeping forward as quietly as he could, he traced her steps almost exactly as he gingerly strode to the door, trying to find a happy medium between speed and silence. There she was ahead of him as he reached the doorway, slowly sweeping the room with that fastidious gaze that pored over the details of the alien-looking, windowed bridge they were in— one that served to modestly baffle the Vo-Toa as he took it in in turn, eyes much less familiar than hers. The clear panes of the windows, the crystalline structure of the helm, the many different rudders they seemed to have (Mata Nui knew what half of that lever and knob and switch mess up there was)— but none of it manned save for her. He stepped in, Mahiki activating. Taking a look at the doorframe from the inside, he noted which way the entrance opened from, which side the door had swung to, the knob mechanism... And projected that image two feet ahead of him, as he quietly pulled the real thing shut behind, searching for a moment for some way to lock. A whole crew was scary. One person? Significantly less so. Not gonna lie, she still looks like she could take me if I'm dumb. good thing I'm not. Bridge to cross when he came to it.

IC: His quarry slumped fully, awareness leaving the eyes as his thinking mind was ripped from its grasp upon the body. Luckily, the Fa-Toa was a quick worker, wasting no time in calling upon his sense for the innate, invisible forces he commanded. Set the backs of the wrists opposite charge to eachother, locking them together behind his back— cuffs minus the metal. It'd keep his arms in a position where he couldn't generate any kind of power to work with. Once he woke, he'd be restrained. That was the idea, and yet... ...The Karz is all this? As the Skakdi's hands floated together, Jolek for the first time was cognizant of the aforementioned "work done" on the spines of the burly red criminal. Sure, the body modifications were visually striking, after a sense, but not what caught his notice. Instead, the feeling of fuzz in the air— one that he, in spite of his rudimentary understanding of the element, knew to be a rising charge. It was the reason he, and every other magnetic always knew which way north was— that sense for the fields. And right now that was a tripped wire in the back of his head, a klaxon blaring about something that didn't make any sense. His golden eyes narrowed, waving a hand through the air in front of him as if to confirm the texture of the thrum that had crept in from below. That much charge in one place without a Vo-Toa or another Fa-Toa around... didn't make sense. Honestly, he rarely had gotten a chance to work this side of his brain, of his abilities before... Maybe he could figure out a few things with this rare opportunity. Didn't see anything like this in the Le-Wahi jungle— Lines of jagged white, arcing from tip to razor tip of Drabnak's back. The taste of the fresh storm on his breath, its scent in his nostrils, filled the air as those crackling bolts continued to brighten and intensify. The gunmetal Toa stood tall after a solitary step back, feeling the invisible force brew and churn beneath him, casting flickering bursts of white onto the contours of his Pakari. The steady humming had now risen to a fever pitch, and the charge it carried began to be matched in the air in front of the curious martial artist. Since like drove off like, what would happen if he both backed off to the point that all this heat died down— His thoughts were brought back to stark reality as the sound of crashing glass erupted near his feet, heralding an erupting ring of crystal that surged over the Skakdi's spread-eagled form, a dome-shaped mound that shelled him and the rising thunder within. It was here that Jolek realized two things. The low tones of the hum continued, muffled but not silenced, and he could still feel the remnants of that charge skyrocketing within. This is pretty dangerous. "Get to cover!" Zelvin shouted. The launcher in her hands was new, one he'd never seen before, but he could only guess it the reason that crystal grew out of the ground so quickly. And I'm being way too complacent! At once, he abandoned his growing Idea in favor of obeying the screaming choir of instincts and rational brain, turning fully and bolting for all he was worth. He had wasted a lot of time already— that charge was gonna pop any moment, and depending on how thick that crystal was or wasn't, it'd end up popping too, just like a Madu fruit on a tree struck by lightning. What is wrong with me? His feet slammed into the earth, and his silver Pakari shone, pumping unnatural strength into his legs. It'd have to be enough. And if it wasn't, It'd be a lesson.

IC: Inconspicuous Potted Plant, 小さい竜 (Chiisai Ryuu) Interior See, the thing about disguises was that it was all a game of confidence and commitment. A lesser saboteur, a two-bit infiltrator, a crashing-rather-than-dashing thief would have broke the moment that commandeering looking lady from before had inevitably doubled back and taken notice. Their hopesrent asunder by a thread being spotted, they'd inevitably panic, break illusion, mouth off, and alert the entire boat. Rudra knew this well. Rudra also knew, with complete surety, that he was no such amateur. Juuuust a plant basket, ma'am. All he had to do, as the green-sashed (Commodore?) Dasaka reached forward, was act as a plant and box would act. Feel the boat. Time the sway. This isn't unsalvageable. She'll get bored for sure. She has more important things to do in that bridge than mess with decor that doesn't even have its' source around to make an example of. And once she goes into that open door, he'd get a known quantity. Simplicity itself, even a toddler could do it. Having spent many days out in the waters near the village, Rudra had his sea legs as sorted as anyone, feeling the waves lapping against the side of the docked submersible through his feet and hindquarters. When the boat, no matter how crystalline and fancy it was or was not, swayed— His teeth met his bottom lip from within the image. "ffffffft." He'd mimicked the sound of bamboo sliding against rock, or at least a best guess at it, as he scooted himself and his illusion just out of the reach of the stately Dasaka's fingertips. —things swayed with it, naturally. Foolproof.

IC Long Shunkyou (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): "Mm... Yes, this will do." Flat, firm earth there, judging from the grasses that grew. Framed by the trees some rough 25 feet apart, it was neither claustrophobic nor so open as to encourage running— not that either was to do so as he read things. Lii was too prideful, her furor too genuine, and her courage too bottomless. Nihonei was in turn far too focused on completing her objective, too willing to sacrifice if it meant smoothing this out now. No, they wouldn't run. They would use this makeshift ring to its extent, he was sure, but neither would dishonor themselves or the other by turning tail. All that needed to be done was ensure they could both walk by the end. "To first blood," he called, motioning for the two combatants to follow him as he marched forward to the center of the clearing. "or to one's surrender. When I call it off, it is done." He breathed deep, summoning the faint embers that still simmered beneath his heartlight, and concentrated them to his right leg, a compact pattern of energy appearing above it. Foot cloaked in the Scales, he dashed it against the earth sharply three paces from the center, drawing a line. Six paces opposite. The same swift kick, tight and economical as it carved through the top layers of soil. Even carelessly drawing lines in the sand was something to be done with propriety— contained within its own power. "Now then— I haven't got all morning."

what if wandering dudes wandered up a mountain

IC: "Umbraline Sinshi", 小さい竜 (Chiisai Ryuu) Interior Putting it mildly, the young man wearing a young woman's face was about ready to burn something once he'd squirreled this big 'ol thing outta here. Not for any lack of his own handiwork— the Mahiki was more than pulling its weight. Any time he passed "another" Dasaka by, their friendly smiles and throwaway greetings towards Umbraline Sinshi only served to bolster his confidence that he'd nailed this one. His heart had initially skipped a beat when making his first contact with the crew, a serious, crisp looking woman with an aura of command (and ornamentation to the crystal armor, looking back on it) extremely similar to the Commodore— he'd have clammed up if she spoke, but all she had to offer him was a quick, acknowledging nod— and then her footsteps, thunderous within these tight spaces and bulkheads, rolled on past him towards the pair coming up from behind. If he hoodwinked her, then call this bit a hole-in-one. However, It's really gotta be some roast duck or goose or something nice like that. Whatever Spirit looks out for me's really done me solid. My spirit star has the blessing for today. As he meandered through the ship, checking up on the inner workings through just as much happenstance as referring back to the sparse, minimalistic diagrams posted within the ship for the sake of the crew, he had somehow just as often simply evaded notice as "managed to hold up to it". A turn of the back at the right time to look at something he thought he saw in the wall, a creak on the ship prompting a gaze to turn away by reflex as he passed an intersection, a door ajar just so— it was like an invisible hand was just nudging everything the right way to make this easy on him... And nobody got anywhere resting on their laurels, did they? If today was lucky, that was the time to squeeze it. He sauntered up to bulkhead just before the the bridge's entrance... And found a closed door, blocking his path towards greatness. Huh. A closed door begging to be opened by an entrepreneurial Vo-Toa, who by all means was riding the hottest streak of the past three years. Huh. He glanced once, twice, three times at his surroundings. Nobody yet. Behind the sound of the waves lapping against the hull, he didn't THINK he heard anyone coming... And tested the handle, jiggling it roughly, before stepping to the side, crouching fully, and activating his Kanohi once more. Time for my most powerful prank. If somebody was in there, and felt like investigating, they would no longer find the prim, proper, ramrod back of Umbraline Sinshi, nor her fine-featured Calix— Instead, if they elected to look at the floor (for whatever reason one would) they'd find a simple overturned basket, hiding the bundled-up form of Rudra from view within the image of expertly weaved bamboo in the Ga-Koroan style, with a small potted bonsai plant resting atop. A tasteful, foreign decoration to spruce up the samey, drab interior he'd been rambling through. This was foolproof. It was a shame Mata Nui made him so smart— these poor aliens didn't stand a chance. Who'd want to knock the nice plant over? The tasteful, sandy browns of woven plant fiber that somebody'd manage to swipe off the locals? They'd never even think of touching it, never come close to the ruse! Sure, he was pretty scrunched up and stuck on a knee to fit in the illusion reasonably, but such was a small sacrifice for expert subterfuge. It's just a stupid little basket from the docks lyin' around, nobody's gonna suspect that!

IC Long Shunkyou (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): "What I will say is that they descended upon us from the slopes that rose past our Temple," came the nebulously elder's response, cloaked in a tightness that belied hidden bristling at a perceived barb now being reexamined by a cooler head. "For all I know, the demons themselves are the ash manifest, twisted against the world. Perhaps eruptions from Koshiki take many forms— but I am certain they fell upon us. I was there for it, in the last moments we lived there. The question of 'how' is as elusive to me as it is you. Perhaps it is not meant for us to divine right now." He snorted, unclear as to the victim of his disdain. Saritsu, the imperial whose words betrayed a mind slower than the mouth, unknowing in how her emphasis could be construed as insulting? Lii, for her hot head and old grudges overshadowing the fact that she was keen upon hampering her potential eternally by refusing healing? Nihonei, boldly taking a stance and seeming to jump into traditional Long culture from the standpoint of an academic, dissecting the person in front of her whom she had only met? Himself, for burning out before this journey had begun, now only vague in his authority to right this ship? Who could say? Perhaps it was all of this. Perhaps his bones simply creaked in a way he did not like. This one doubts evenm he would be able to tell you. What was clear, however, were the words he spoke— whatever prompted the gesture mattered less. "If you intend to duel, I will need to oversee— And I will set the terms." He did not disguise the pointed look he gave Lii. She knew as well as him why— it was in her nature. "If such is agreeable, then we simply need find clear ground." He refused to buoy the idea that it wasn't.

IC: Making mice of strong men was the role of striking the body. To drive the wind free, break the rib that caged the soft tissue, rupture the liver and force autonomy to flee a body before even consciousness— this was the technique at its height. Place it perfectly, and strike with authority, and even giants fall to their knees. This Skakdi, the crimson half of the Ash Lads, was not quite a giant. Good connection. On his knees. No rules— Get him Out! Jolek had nonetheless placed his well. The rush he felt on the approach had him now. Before thoughts could scramble to catch up, the body moved. His opponent before him had doubled over, groaning as his side lit in protest as a set of stone-hard knuckles crashed into it with drilling force before just as swiftly releasing— the rebound doing further trauma as everything within returned to place. Even as the Skakdi collapsed to his knees, Jolek's feet were mobile— floating a half-step back, stance maintained as the mass of red crumpled in his wake. An afterthought, Jolek remembered in his conscious mind, was apprehending this guy. He should definitely make sure that was done. His body, meanwhile, reached for the back of the criminal's skull with the free hand, pulling it forward— As a flush knee to the temple rocketed up to meet it, taking advantage of full, practiced technique and kinetic chain. The rear leg was the source of the strike, allowing more space, velocity, and weight transfer as the driving force up from the ground activated the hips. They carried said weight fully, extending forward as he rose to the ball of the foot on his standing leg. Not enough to compromise balance, clearly— he wasn't an amateur. But enough to maximize penetration. Even technical minutiae, such as the pointing of the foot on the striking limb to "sharpen" the knee (focusing the impact onto the point of the femur, not the front of the quadriceps nor the free-floating patella) as it landed, were in place as a matter of course. It had been immeasurably long since that even needed to be thought about, a matter of "consideration" as opposed to being the full breadth of the "action". Thinking was slow. Too slow. Purity of technique was the pursuit. It was lifelong, an endless spiral that pressed tighter, tighter, closer, closer towards the singular point of infinity. He had walked this Way long, and was to continue walking the Way for yet longer after this. That meant engraving your accumulated training into things deeper than mind. Deeper than thought. Deeper even than the muscles, which read what the eyes saw and moved the ways they had hammered into them on only reaction. The Soul. Drabnak was unfortunate for running into someone like him, perhaps— But he had made his choice in risking this fight. If this landed flush and stunned him, Jolek could quickly bind his hands together with magnetism— perhaps the best use of his meager ability with the element. Then it was all but certainly a three-to-one.

IC: "Umbraline Sinshi", 小さい竜 (Chiisai Ryuu) Gangplank Problems with that idea quickly popped up. Namely, he found the smaller boat about 45 seconds after setting off away from the big one— and that dragon man's booming voice, going on and on about long memories with Alien-shaped blanks in them and the Matoran wanting to forget about his people (no kidding), was still very clearly audible above the clamor and the lapping of the waves. If they heard him, they'd probably hear Ayiwah too— So, taking her identity was a bust when it came to getting aboard that sleek, shark-shaped hunk of crystal. Which sucked, sucked horribly— more than even salivating at the thought of what treasures could be inside a technological marvel of a ship made of crystal, he also just wanted to know how the thing worked. What went on in there? What was that? What was that? He had to get in. He really wanted it. But his plan had snapped clean in half as quickly as it had formed. Those two... four... six guards would literally need only working ears to bust him, and he wasn't a buffoon even if he otherwise knew in his heart he could sell it. Especially those on that bit sticking higher than anywhere else— they'd more than likely still see her, too. He hung back, melting into the people milling about as he pondered how to salvage this. Circuiting the street, he moved behind a corner, cutting line of sight— Okay. I can't do Commodore. Who else would be let on the ship? Somebody... from the first wave, right? One of the ones that come and go pretty regularly. Who've I seen that— A bolt from the blue struck, as his mouth opened in an "oooooh." of dawning comprehension within the shadows 'tween buildings. As a burgeoning, nascent thief, debonair and ambitious man coloring outside Ga-Koro's lines, he'd gotten to paying more attention to the Marines as specific obstacles rather than as faceless civil servant peacekeepers who stood around and sometimes drove off Rahi. With the whole downturn in atmosphere the island had gotten since around when the aliens had gotten here from wherever their island was, the Marines had been more active than the lax years beforehand— he'd seen a lot more of them, at least. Maybe serendipity, maybe making his own luck, maybe something much bigger, but all the same, they'd jacked up their patrol time in general, never you mind the foreigners. One such figure among them— Whitehot Munequita. He'd never had any personal run-ins, thank the Spirit, but she was showing up early and often (for her) to the docks back when he'd still gone out to try his hand as an honest fisherman ever since the Dasaka had made landfall. Near as he could tell, she was one of the first responders when they'd barged in, and Hahli'd more or less just decided that the statuesque, striking Toa of Earth worked as a good liason between them and Ga-Koro's structure. One of the reasons for that was the alien that'd almost immediately become attached at the hip with. A sorta tall, sorta lean, sorta quite pretty Dasaka with a Calix... Who'd been fresh off that boat. No way she wasn't allowed in. Probably their advanced scouting force, he knew that she had to handle herself in a fight— Munequita never suffered wimps. A smarmy Toa of Iron had told him as much over drinks— well, Rudra was drinking, the Warrant Officer was downing a girly looking strawberry sundae with shameless abandon. Point was, he'd heard that the woman was a hellion fiend for physical training— nobody like that would be so smitten with someone helpless. Also yeah actually she has like two swords Alright! That made this much, much better— plan was back on board! Get it? His Kanohi glowed, and his form swiftly shifted. ————— The guards of the Ryuu's gangplank, some three or so minutes later, was treated to what by all means had to have been a familiar sight. A slim, pretty Menti, sword on either hip (one sparkling with soft cerulean hues of some nameless crystal, the other with a polished metallic sheen) and a straight, confident back emerged from the procession, marching up to the low-seated ship like a woman who had somewhere to be, even if she wore an easy smile on her face. They glanced at eachother momentarily, noticing something off. Something missing. He was pretty sure he knew what it was. He hoped he knew what it was. Oh man, if he didn't know what it wa— "Good morning, Umbraline Sinshi," one spoke up, thankfully giving him the girl's name (he'd never cared to catch it and remember before like right now). They maintained their stiff decorum for an instant longer, before that same sentry's eyebrow quirked behind her...Sssssanok, he figured, with a now more familiar tone. "No Whitehot?" Good guess, Rudra! "Long night." 'she' responded, throwing in a sly wink. "You know? She needs to sleep it off." The two guards glanced at eachother again, before looking back to the smug Menti before them. "Nice." they replied in unison, sharing smirks. No kidding. Smokeshow of a cop. "To what do we owe the pleasure, then?" the opposite asked, looking 'her' over with a little more intent. "Something from your old quarters you need? I thought you had cleaned it out moving." Go ahead, verify all you want. The Mahiki's good enough that I even sound like her. All I need to do for pattern is some total marine hardcase knocked down a couple notches because of two months off. Be shocked if that isn't close. "Yeah," no sense not taking what he'd been given. "I did as well, but there's something I can't find over there. All but turned it upside down looking, so this is my other option. Any issues with that?" A beat passed, before the guards nodded, one allowing herself an almost imperceptible shrug. They couldn't seem to find anything wrong with the person they'd seen before them, and they knew Umbraline Sinshi well. 'If it looked like a Soko, walked like a Soko, and whinnied like a Soko,' and so forth. "Go ahead— might as well grab it before you two're stuck minding some diplomacy meeting now that half of the Archipelago's here..." she said wanly, dissatisfaction creeping in. Yeah, that was fair. Rudra could, pretty easily, get why nobody wanted to be standing around. They had dragons swooping in, families that they hoped were making landfall, big shots running around (if that luxury liner behind the Yucca-guy was any indication)— all the perfect reasons to not wish standing guard on anybody. In the same breath as that, though, those were some pretty good distractions in their own rights— enough that a Sinshi-lookalike and soundalike must have been easy to sign off on for a mind that was drifting elsewhere. They looked almost haggard, really. Crisp from afar, but now that Rudra had seen them up close, it began to make sense. They led 'her' to the hatch atop the upper portion of the diving ship's completely enclosed hull, pulling it open after engaging what looked like some fancy corkscrew mechanism. "Thanks." 'Sinshi' said with as much grace as Rudra could muster, before ducking inside. OOC: I've consulted with @Krayzikk re: NPC reactions up to this point

IC: Kellin, an expatriate who'd lived and plied his loudmouthed version of the mining trade in Onu-Koro before switching operations to the cold caverns of Ko-Wahi, wasn't hard for the Ussalry to identify after a quick perusal. He'd been a miner here first— and after a few seconds of carefully monitored shuffling, he'd produced an old hard hat that the senior of the two guardswas, much to his chagrin, quick to recognize. He breathed in deep through his nose once they'd passed through unaccosted, accompanying it with an old nostalgic stretch of the back. "Whew, there's that must air you can taste— nice to see nothin's changed here, at least. We riding out to the market with the plunder, or are y'all hijacking my crab for other errands?" IC: My gills have never felt so good in donkey's years. I missed the dense underground air— Plus, Sami's still doing well at the guard post! Haven't seen him since we left, glad the Ussalry life treats him well.

IC: Rudra, Ga-Koro Streets Ffffffwhat. The Vo-Toa spat out his last remnants of fruit as an honest-to-Mata-Nui dragon came swooping down from the skies, diving into the drink and making a big old show of swimming below the boats and to the nearby pier before demanding audience with the newcomers. This drew the attention, naturally, of whole heaps of crowds of people. Rudra was one of them, filled to the brim with thoughts of his own on this development as it played out. Firstly, who the karz thought it was okay for mythological beasts to start walking, talking, and carrying spears? They were scary enough without civilized brains, and this was coming from an animal lover— And secondly, the tall, slender woman who'd rushed out to the prow to confront this thing on that giant ship was a Commodore. It had certainly gotten its audience. "Commodore Ayiwah", was the name. Pronounced AYE-WAH. Maybe AYE-WUH if you slurred it. But probably AYE-Wah. Capitalizing was likely a little unnecessary, plus he hated yelling. But he'd seen that Commodore before! The first day the aliens had landed, like two months ago or something— she was one of the ones who'd come out of that much smaller boat that sat really low on the water. He'd even heard it could dip under the waves— that it had risen out of them like a hunting Tarakava on its initial approach. What kind of crazy tech did that even take? ...Buncha people'd want it, right? Onu-Wahi was full of tech dudes, Po-Koro'd gotten themselves a navy (however THAT worked, rocks all sink and there certainly wasn't anything else in their heads), Ko had gotten new leadership who could use it... Her focus was on the dragon talking at her. Rudra's focus was on her. Her face. Her gait. Her cadence. He had an idea. If she was on the Yucca-whatever, then that'd have definitely been a bust. He'd been eyeing it up before all this like a side of fatty meat, anything that big and shiny and full of people taking their old home to a new world with them was bound to be full of treasures untold— but when that dragon landed, alert naturally would have had to be super high over there. That ship was buzzing like a Ga-Koro Marine in front of a strawberry daquiri now, and with a dignitary of such high status there, anyone remotely close to the gangplank was probably toast. But if she was there, then that naturally meant she wasn't elsewhere. Like that little shark-looking submarine. But she could be. She was also definitely allowed to be many places where a random Vo-Toa wasn't. Where in the docks did they stick that little guy, again? It was pretty close, naturally, but he was also sure port traffic had put a few native caravels between the two. Let's go hunting. He began to walk, as three eager and amazed bystanders filled his wake to get a closer look at Imperial Dragon vs Literal Actual Dragon.

IC: Rudra, Ga-Koro Streets Fun thing about visiting dignitaries was that they drew themselves a good bit of attention. Fun thing about landing refugees was that they drew themselves whole HEAPS of attention. And confusion. Confusion was big. Inside confusion little details get lost— a face here, an outfit there, a name or phrase or bundle of widgets in a pocket... "Hey— Didn't I have four of the— Ma'am! You've gotta pay for that! SOMEONE CALL THE MARINES!" Maybe not a ripe fruit from a street stall. Shame, he was certain the Le-Matoran running things was too busy gawking at all the new and sparkly ladies that were running around. They'd commanded a lot of the attention this morning, and a whole congregation of them had seemed to flood the Great Takea as they'd exited their big sparkling ship (Yuca-something-or-other was what he'd caught it getting called), enough to clog up seating and take out any room for a meal. Oh well. Stumpy little legs couldn't keep up for terribly long when faced with a Skakdi's stride, and the crimson brute quickly ducked into a dim back alley. Anyone giving chase would have just enough time to see her grinning face (which kind of looked like one of the aforementioned establishment's chefs, come to think of it) check back over her shoulder before diving into another corner and presumably out into an adjacent street— Yet all that perpendicular alley produced was a Vo-Toa, hands in the pockets of his jacket and what looked like a Hau on his face. That's the meal settled. He'd gotten fairly good at simple shenanigans like that a while ago. Turning into a holding pattern... Was getting pretty boring, honestly. Sure, it put a nice bula in his belly and sometimes some widgets in his wallet, but it was beginning to feel like going nowhere fast, all over again. Didn't want nothin' to do with that action. Did it once, wasn't for him— he needed to up the ante. A local smith had some nice looking swords up on his racks just the other day, Rudra remembered. He wondered what one of those might go for— And what he could do to grab one for himself. Taking a bite of the sweet flesh he'd pilfered, he mulled over it as a Marine ran past, searching for a big red thief. Helpfully, he pointed down the alley he'd come, saying he'd been nearly knocked over by someone shoulder-checking him on his way out. Maybe one of the new and sparkly ladies were worth gawking at, though. Crystal trinkets definitely were worth a nice little stack... And it wasn't like they knew Mata Nui too well yet, either. Somethin' to that idea. Options, options.

IC Long Shunkyou (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): His gaze turned downwards as they spoke, two heads of clan with more important things to worry about than the petty quarrels between those that spoke Imperial or Vulgar Taa. Ushering a hatchling forward, Shunkyou minded the words floating through the air, mostly in his direction, as his Noble Sana gently glowed while he focused on the scratches— No, real cuts to one who is so young— beneath the Toroshu's bandages. Urging her to tread lightly on the leg for the next ten leagues, the procession moved onto the next, a cracked shin. "A way will be found." he stated to Saritsu, blunt and between deep breaths— showing the young woman how to calm herself while the younger of the Eiyu set her bones in a makeshift brace. "In the worst case, your capital may have burnt the bridges to the seat of their power to check the advance of these demons, but such is not an insurmountable obstacle." He waved a hand flippantly, gesturing around them. "If nothing else, they did not think to deprive us of the trees."

IC: Motion, like so many things, came natural to those that lived by it, even when said life had rotted down to a stump. If stagnation was enforced by facade, then this was the genuine thing bursting forth, a starburst explosion that burned away the clouds hanging over, lifting a veil on the soul. Great Spirit, he'd missed feeling his blood rush a little. The fire crossed through his heartlight and out to his extremities like a wave, a lightness that sharpened his every facet just so. Why couldn't everything be this nice? Doing that civic duty stuff was necessary, sure, but... Does it have to feel like such a chore? The crash of steel on steel rang out against the trees as a thunderbolt from heaven dropped onto the Skakdi's blade, a hew wrought of orange-tinted silver that crashed upon him. Jolek beheld the strike with a rough grunt, halfway to a growl, of exertion as sparks burst from the grinding blades, forcing his weight and strength into the sword. In truth his swing wasn't terribly remarkable— he'd always had more experience with knives than swords, chopping meat or brush instead of combatants. It showed in his form, that much he knew. The Ta-Koro "standard" equipment was hardly something one could say genuinely existed, but their shortswords were just on the edge of being the closest thing to it— and had so far worked out alright when one just treated them like a particularly straight machete. No points for technique, but body mechanics were universal— and the red Skakdi's seemed to be holding, even as the Toa bore down on him, sink in the hips forcing the brunt of his weight behind his strength. He was strong. Was this guy stronger? Maybe. Maybe he was doing something wrong. Either way, he was also close. The Fa-Toa gave up on the bind, letting the Skakdi shove his sword back towards the sky— And truly entered his world. He stepped in on a shallow angle with his left foot, letting the rebound swing his arm, then shoulder, then torso back— And his white-knuckled fist, formerly a free hand, rocketed towards the Skakdi's liver in a compact, crushing left hook from the opposite side. With the head so fervently protected, you were free to brutalize the body. Fighting 101. Now this was more like it.

IC Long Shunkyou (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): He in turn, seeing the offered peace, made no show of turning it down. "That's good. My Sana isn't half of what it once was. Medicine will do much more paired with it than either could manage apart— Lii," he called, gruffly waving the aforementioned Menti forward, young Yu still perched atop her muscular back. "Help me get those with fractures to the front. They're the ones who the walk is bearing down upon the hardest." After a moment, scanning his charges, he turned back to face the Eiyu sisters. For a brief glimpse, not more than a flash, he allowed the weathering to show on his face. "You've my gratitude— I'll personally ensure your safe passage the rest of the way, so long as these kids make it to safe ground." With a breath, he let it pass back under his usual composure, nobility and duty guiding his bearing. "Until Koshiki is rid of this pestilence, it appears we are more than ever destined to meet and live amongst your people. I am not in the business of letting debts hang over our heads— nor am I keen on being blind to my neighbors."

IC: Kellin, ever helpful, snorted. "I bet we coulda blown him—her—Makuta up real nice if we'd had any idea all that was even coming. I've got—" Aaaaand paused, And looked for a moment at Leli, bedazzled and bejeweled and only somewhat beleaguered by the journey, now about six seconds shorter ever since her escapades at the edge of the city of lilypads. Luckily, he'd convinced her to chuck the package into the drink before their destinies came at a depressingly quick turnaround from their previous, currently-discussed destinies. "I had enough Stralix to blow anything that smirks at me like that sky-high to meet the makers themselves. Big Judicious just had other ideas for us." "Tell you what, though—" he continued, letting naked, performative surliness creep into his tone. "It just goes to show that when big Kell comes a-knockin', even Toa get scared. I bet you my bottom widget the six of us coulda done damage."

IC: Cipher - The Rockwall The streak of searing sunlight tore through the calm blue skies, impossible to miss if you were anywhere short of being blind. There was no chance my little signal flare wouldn't garner a reaction from the Marines posted on the fortifications at any point in living memory— let alone within these tense few weeks that passed since Ko's invasion and subsequent recapturing. "Be seeing you." And if it somehow didn't, the Toa of Sand wearing my Calix that'd promptly leapt outta the brush and started hollering at the aforementioned Stationed-on-Posting sure would. I waited a few moments for his words to float through the air between us and my destination, delivered with enough bombast to blow those iron gates wide open— and the showmanship he'd treated me to nearly out of the water, to boot. Three. Then a faint sigh, followed by a costernation-filled Ga-Koro accent. He'd gotten their attention enough for a dialogue— Two. And attention enough for me. One. A spray of sea foam, and a crash of parting water erupted from the bay as he really worked to seal it. We're live, folks. Let's jam. I narrowed my eyes and focused, squinting them at a point just atop the dome-shaped roof of the light chamber itself, high overhead of the many stone bricks that made for fortification, and by consequence the disgruntled Marines posted within and upon them. Now, I'd never used a Kualsi in my life, as previously stated, but once you learn the method of activation for one Kanohi, I was pretty sure you'd learned them all. The effect's strength is a product of conscious determination, but activation was like using a muscle or remembering a tune. In my case, I cocked back the hammer in the recesses of my brain that functioned for purposes of breaking realty's rules, took a single breath longer to get the feeling of where I wanted to end up down, and pulled an invisible trigger. We all have our metaphors for it. ffft-POP And I was once there, suddenly here. It kind of felt like my stomach was turning upside down, maybe in the same way freefall does, but that was fine. More than a worthy trade-off for suddenly ignoring an easy few hundred yards of distance all told. That said, this wasn't the easiest ride in the world, either— I had my own work to do to keep this adventurous little romp from turning slapstick. My left hand shot out to the side, grabbing hold of the metallic flagpole as my feet touched the weathered metal of the rooftop, the main line of defense against a season's worth of storms. It took'em a second to find purchase, given the structure— mostly smooth curves made for a fun balancing act. But, I'm not a rookie, and I've also been in enough stupid incidents near the village of water's architecture (at least twice) to not flail around like a newborn up here. I pivoted to the other side, switching grips on the flagpole-and-weathervane as the turn on my heel kept me in place. I shoulda seen it coming, but that warp had kept my bearing the same. No idea if it was due to my own ignorance or just by design of the mask, but that moment of adjustment had probably given my partner down there ample time to verify that I'd gotten up here as he'd conjured up an arm of wet sand from the shallows below. Buffeted a little towards the center by the wind, I shot my guy a brash thumbs-up with my free hand, before dropping into a low crouch. I've also had experience with fighting breezes. Won't say how or why. If you know, you know. Before anything else, though, I needed to make sure I wasn't going to be dropping into a whole cadre of now-extremely-annoyed Marines guarding the giant lantern itself— I'm not dumb enough to think that my entrance was totally silent, just dumb enough to think that a lot of light and a lot of sound in the other direction could mask it, provided a culprit looked like they were there to source it. I crept forward in my new low profile, gazing out over the side back onto the scene with Verak and the Marines, and checking for sound, sight, or sign that I had a few of my own to worry about up here. Or the better way to put it— how many were up here, worrying about me.

IC: (Dastana Republic Odaiba Encampment - Fort Kizuno) "Conquering Evil, not the Opponent, is the Essence of Swordsmanship." ——— I was shaken awake roughly that day. I hadn't come to until my body felt itself hoisted into the air by someone strong. All around me, I beheld a scene painted in crimson, orange, yellow, and black. Like paint dashed onto a canvas by someone who held no care in their heart for what came out as the picture. Maybe they didn't care for the picture to begin with, either. I didn't know. I still don't know. Am I ever going to know? I don't know. What I do know is that this place looked like the mouth of the mountain that loomed over me, a hazy triangle of black. If the stories about it were true, then no doubt about it. The field I was in was burning badly, all the crops were either blackened ash or blackening embers. A little ways off, close enough that I assume I'd just been there, a big house was falling to pieces, covered in angry red. Thunderously, it crashed to the earth, but I didn't hear anything beyond splitting wood. No voices, just blaze. That was scary. It's scary being the only person you hear when everything is this red. I tried to remember if there was another person beyond me and this strong Menti that had grabbed me. Had I walked? Had I walked out of that house, a beneficiary of some strange favor by fate? Had I walked out the front gate, past black and red shapes that r mi ed m of y s f? W s I e o ly n o surv ve? survive. Survive. I had to do that. I did not want to be like that house. That was dangerous. ———That would mean I didn't do my duty to live, since I was allowed to over those people. I would be squandering a gift. All I breathed in was smoke. It tasted like the air itself was burning, had been burning, and had been burning for a very long time. It was like a thick blanket over my whole body, cooking me like bread in a Ringti's oven. Did bread feel this way when it was made? I should be kinder to bread. I looked to the sky, numb. I couldn't breathe like this. The person who'd grabbed ahold of me couldn't either. I don't think so, at least. Her mouth was covered by something long and green, but it was getting greyer and blacker by the second. A clan sash, I think. What was green? But there's no hope for either of us. The collapsing house fell onto the only path I could have taken to get here, and we were surrounded by the tall grass in the fields that looked like a big red wall. Trapped. Nowhere to run. Of course not. There was no way I could survive this. There was no hope. Even a child understood that much. In the end, I sighed, but it was more like a slow cough. The person yelled something to me in a hoarse voice, but I didn't remember what it was. They were running towards the flames. Getting it over with, I guess. I couldn't stop them. My body had no strength of its own to do that. I don't think the smoke helped either. So I felt the haze creeping into my mind, and quietly murmured that it was unfair. That was the least I could do for those people. The strong lady reached forward, defiant of the flames. We were about to get burned. If she had this much left, couldn't she ditch me and save herself? I was weighing her down. We drew up to the curtain of fire, and my world went not black, but white. Like a closing bottlecap, the numbness spiraled over my vision, spreading out to cover all form, all shape, all of the world I was leaving behind. And there at the center, just before it all washed out— ——there was a shining, perfect sword—— ———of all blue. ————— That was when I was still just a girl. So long ago. I was part of a miracle. I had witnessed a miracle. I had witnessed a miraculous person. They told me I was one too. I don't know what I am. But I couldn't deny that I was alive. Miracles only happen once. It's a lonely thing. I knew that much, too. I was alone. And alone I am now. I'm dreaming. But like every dream you ever have, once you realize you are— "Every kid needs someone to look after them." That same woman spoke when my wounds had healed. She'd been wounded too. Way worse than me. Her voice was strange. Strong, but delicate. Nice, but rough. I decided I liked it, making me strange too. I remember a smile. It made me feel like looking at a blue sky, even though it was raining cats and dogs out there. out where? "I'm no good with speaking in roundabout terms, so just... come stay with me. Alright?" I had no idea if it was a good idea, but... I wanted that smile too. I nodded. Beaming, she ripped off a piece of that green and grey cloth she'd been wearing. She handed that dingy scrap to me, wrapping it around my thin wrist in a knot. "Then, I guess that makes you one of us." "I'm Ageru Sasaki. That'd make you—" "Ageru Shiki." I said it with pride. ———I wake up. The early morning sunlight is filling the room I've been sleeping in. "Sleeping in" for certain. I think I stayed up too late training. My body is stiff everywhere. I yawn. I'm usually up and about by daybreak. By my guess, dawn came a couple of hours ago by now. I'm needed by then, before then even, most of the time; but things have recently slacked a little. I guess that's why I'm only just now feeling the chill of the air as someone comes through my home to get me. It's another Dasaka, clad in mottled green robes as opposed to the usual crystalline armoring. She's a good friend of mine, but I know this is a bother, so I make sure to pull myself together, slapping the cheeks of my Kiril twice so the cold air stings my face a bit more to rouse my brain from dozing off. She snickers a bit at the display, probably amused but definitely in a good mood. "You should sleep in more often, Shiki. Bleary's a fun look." "Thanks, Yumiri. I'm awake now, all good to go." Kiril. That Kanohi's the secret weapon of mine that makes me so useful on the walls after nighttime. Not for guarding anything, despite my being a Menti— No, I'm best suited to repair things. I'm still very much in training. I have been my whole life. Speaking of which, I'm gonna have to truncate mine today. "That's me off, then! Catch you later, babe!" Yumiri flashes me a wink and a thumbs up, and saunters off, activating her Huna. She just came back from a scouting trip, so if she's still chipper and not pressing me, we're not expecting anything for the next couple of days. I guess that also is implied by the fact that she has free time to do favors to begin with— chances are the reconstruction foreman asked where in Zuto Nui's name her best asset was. Either way, she's out of my little spot in Kizuno's crammed walls for sure once her shadow leaves the doorway. Why's that girl sneaking around so much here, anyway? It isn't like she isn't worth seeing. Ah, whatever. I don't have any right to judge for being weird. Just like me, I bet she's just trying to get better at her craft as one of the clan's scouts. I roll up the futon against the wall beside me, and begin my pushups. A hundred or so should get me warmed up for the day, nothing crazy. I'll cut my crunches in half to fifty, too. Can't waist too much time. Wait, that was a blunder. It's "waste." This too is a waste. Wasting time. Time to get after it and clear the cobwebs for real. ... After half an hour of exercise and a skipped breakfast thanks to some necessary rationing, I head to the outer wall, crystal shards and other tools in hand. The damage really isn't as bad as it had been beforehand. A few weeks ago, it felt like I'd basically been building whole sections from scratch, but to day it's just a few scrapes on the wood and holes to plug. That's what the crystal is for. At one such hole, about as big as my fist, I find some evidence of charring— Laser Vision came around while I was asleep? Not good. But I can fix this. It takes some careful chiseling and carving to get the blackened, cauterized wood clear. I've learned a lot of these things from taking care of the house I'd have normally awoken in ages ago on my own— my mother passed a while back, but even before then, I basically managed keeping everything in good shape. That included the two of us. I miss breakfasts, but it's a necessary evil right now. I'm basically a refugee. We lost my town of Mahuika to the enemy at the gates. My house might not be there any more, but I'm going to tell myself it is. Now that I've got raw wood exposed again, I set the shard of crystal into the hole's center, and my Kanohi glows ultramarine. Broken off of a larger geode as it was, "regenerating" the crystal in effect regrew it at a controlled rate— turning a shard into a workable patch in the span of a quarter of a minute. The raw wood, once the geode penetrated it, would reshape itself the grip the puncture— a lot like a nail, really. I yawn. Wow. I thought I was supposed to be less tired after getting more sleep. Four hours is usually fine. And if I'm yawning, I can't imagine what Yumiri or the Menti on these walls are trying to grit out. All the more reason I gotta get this stuff done while I can, I reckon. It'll hold in the place of more wood. Too many of those aforementioned Menti were needed to guard the fort for us to dispatch a logging party. I should be one of them by now, but I'm still no good at it yet. I take a few minutes more to shave and chisel down the interior growth that's gone past the inner ramparts, until it's satisfyingly flush with the wood that remains. That way, nobody gets hurt by big jagged rocks sticking out of the wall they're manning. While I train, this is what I can do. The solitary work helps me focus, anyway. I stand up, and move onto the next section. There's still plenty of wall left to go.

man what did they do to deserve this they just liked doing kung fu at altitude

IC: Movement. "Mostly Lava Rats! They burrow under the roots and come out at low light!" Even in the midst of his conversation, Jol had been sure to keep his wits about him and not laser in all of his focus onto the newcomer— tunnel visioning had gotten him nearly killed about a dozen times already in a jungle much lusher than this. To get caught unawares now woulda been so embarrassing he'd die, even if they didn't kill him. His senses were thusly on a hair trigger— After the movement, in the span of moments, light! That's right, these were Skakdi, they had all sorts of weird eye-beams to worry about! —or what passed for one, these days. The Toa of Magnetism's guard raised, shelling up behind forearms and elbows as the crown of his skull received an impact like a punch from... himself with the Pakari, really. His feet had been in stance, luckily, and it was only by a few inches that he'd been knocked back by the sudden blow, silt beneath him sliding out from beneath the soles of his feet. He'd been lucky the user in question had aimed for the head, but he felt no comfort from his fortune. Rather, I've been in the city too long. ####it, I shoulda seen those two way before now. Rusty? Dulled by boredom? Already losing a step by becoming too used to that same routine he was whining about earlier? Tough to say which exactly, but none of them were good signs in the slightest. However. He gazed through his guard, looking down through the brow as his chin had safely dipped behind his leader shoulder and forearm. Sure enough, the two Skakdi were sitting dead ahead, flanked at either side by the burnt-out treeline. In current tandem as they were, they had their elemental abilities at play— something he frankly lacked. Sure, in theory he could guide the short sword (Guard-Issue) at his hip by its metal point into one of them, but that level of control... What the karz is that swinging in from the right si— He drew the sword from its sheathe as he stepped in to the dark shape, intercepting its arc, and hacked downward as a branch swayed way too far from what should have been the end of its reach, nearly raking itself across his Kanohi. The blade smashed through roughly, strength more than any real cutting power doing the work as the now dead wood fell to the Earth. ...Wasn't in the cards. He just didn't have the fine-tuning necessary— same as everything else, he'd need to get on the inside. He was pretty sure he could get an edge there. He had to close this gap between them. That branch was dead now... It'd put something in their faces, even if he didn't really hurt 'em with it. He could move in behind that, and chew up some of this ground. His Pakari shone as he gripped the fallen branch. It was an awkward, oblong thing, weirdly balanced and not at all a proper projectile. Normally he wouldn't be confident in getting it terribly far at all, even as strong as he'd trained his body to be— "Hrn-RAH!" But what if he was way stronger? To the point where that sorta worry didn't matter? As the branch sailed in the direction of the Ash Lads, the martial artist surged forward into a flat-out charge as he stormed towards his preferred range of "right on top of the bad guys, where he could get his hands on them". All he needed to do was that much, and this was as good as over. The sword in his hand, taken without much regard for whether or not he knew its technique (a monumental sin, looking back) already felt a little more familiar to him as he held it closer to a machete, or knife, or hammer. This was why he signed up for it— if he really had been softened up, this sort of thing would whip him back into shape. Shake the cobwebs out. Karz, he kinda hoped they'd hit him again.