Razgriz

IC Long Shunkyou (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): His mind accepted the link after a moment, and Saritsu felt the borders of licking flame that surrounded his mental space, buffeting her diplomatic thoughts with raw Will, recede back into embers as the Acting Head cooled his heart. His control over his spirit was fine as ever, doubtless, but the strength of his defenses were by no means the impenetrable bonfire they had been as a Menti. Whether it was for this reason that he seemed to rankle somewhat, or to her seeming prostration... was difficult to tell. Perhaps not even he was certain, as the cinders in his Mind swirled around them in a dance more emotive than threatening or imprisoning. "T'ull a'jaar, Miss." he responded vocally, a show of good faith for all in attendance, before returning to the mental plane with his rustic and charred Thoughts. .:I know when I am being patronized, young Eiyu girl. You need not lay it on so thickly— we are not the many horsemen who squabbled with your 'empire' so many years prior.:. It seemed he needed to explain to the Eiyu girl, whose Thoughts were quite clear— enough that he had caught the image of her awkward grin as opposed to simply an impression, or tone. Was this a clan that specialized in this method of communication? Curious. But moreso was the spot of status the Toroshu girl, Nihonei. had allowed to slip in her speech. They too journeyed west, their home lost and clan in shambles? ...Hmph. .:Rest assured. Lii is an adherent of the Rage, and it flows through her blood as it does her spirit. Hotheaded she may be, but her grudge and story are hers to bear, not our clan's. So long as we speak behind no veils, I will be amenable. As you said, the months have been trial for all on Odaiba, and as your sister said, I do have wounded. Go on and tell her I speak honestly. I am sure you can feel it.:. His Thoughts were shrouded in a bitter ash as he recounted the siege in his head, private scenes from the Steps flashing as he spoke of it to the more diplomatic of the two Eiyu. While the flames had pulled back to welcome Saritsu, so careful to never burn her as if they were twice the strength she had felt in first contacting him, they still smoldered and smoked up the chambers his soul resided in, a warm furnace carefully managed. "I see you are both somewhat familiar with our customs, if you know to call me by these names— albeit it is 'Jahagir', not your 'Toroshu'." he continued in speech, clearing his throat after breathing deep and holding the bridge of his nose while Lii had stormed off to the rear. "And if such is the case, you understand that as Demons pour out of Koshiki, we are without Nest. I have Hatchlings here who can barely punch straight— and more Dasaka like Lii. Perhaps less enamored with the heat in their head, but wounded the same. My Sana is keeping us all on our feet, but if you have medicinal knowledge..." He arched his neck, eliciting a few stiff, uncomfortable pops. "We may be able to work something out, as we march to the farmlands."

to answer the end of the podcast i think visaru and that other guy in le have been great

big thank you to alex for filling in on my host slot for this go around, i was wheels up in an hour from the time of recording and simply couldn't make it see you all next week!

can't wait to hear trhe LT's orders

IC Long Shunkyou (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): He stopped, raising one of the hands behind his back to signal his clanmates to do likewise. All around him, the trees themselves seemed to speak, the voice of legion in echoed harmony bombarding his senses from every side. A neophyte would think him surrounded. The experienced would recognize that there could be no such bevy of voices all speaking in the same tone, same pitch, same cadence from so many places at once; that he was presented the illusion of being surrounded. Long Shunkyou was not young, and more than experienced. This was just as likely a method of not only fishing for intimidation— a pointless gesture whether they recognized it or otherwise— but also by throwing the voice everywhere, it concealed location. No tells as to where the sound had sourced, as it permeated the whole space surrounding them. Immediately, his trainees began to tighten around themselves, raising their fists cautiously even as they searched the foliage, murmurs of questioning spreading. "Be still." he spoke, allowing his spirit to rise within him. His voice was like a campfire, colors of smoke and creaking, splitting wood to his tone. He continued to stare straight ahead as he stepped forward one, two, then three paces. "Young Lii is right— I might indeed ask you the same, young Imperial Miss." he now spoke directly to her, the voice in the trees. "This is what a... what was it, a Sighteye is like, no? Projecting illusions atop our reality? Or have I misread the container your flames reside within? You do not burn so freely as we, so it is hard to judge from the presence on the plane of the Soul. They become so faint beneath the smothering of your Disciplines." Well. If they wished to hide their numbers, so be it. It was no skin off his back. "If you intend to force me, then I will relent—" he sighed thickly, allowing his eyes to pan the trees. If he were to assume his guess true, they would not amount to much— doubtlessly the girl accosting them would be behind another such illusion, concealing her form regardless. "I am Shunkyou, acting Head of Clan Long. As our home in the mountain has been overrun, I intend to shepherd these hatchlings you see before you towards our Chand brothers near the lands your people still hold here." His back straightened somewhat, and he stoked the embers remaining within him. She seemed confrontational. Definitely, if she was going through all this trouble to pull the wool over his eyes. Match it, then. "If you have a problem with that, Miss No-Name, I would believe you'd best come out and say it. We have been hiking this trail for days, and it's left us all quite sullen." Unable to pick anything apart, his gaze returned to the path forward. "With those demons meandering about, I would advise you save your strength instead of wasting it on us. You never know when you might have need to fool something far more malicious than a few monks on pilgrimage."

IC: "Yeah, you Ussalry guys are gonna have your work cut out for you— 'specially since you share a land border with Ko. Now that he's back those pricks are gonna get real uppity. Might start thinking they can invade tunnels." Privately, he fought to quell the idea of running into those new super-Rahkshi in a tunnel— all the Dasakan refugees would probably be friggin' horrified once they learned that the new island they'd landed on had a huge interconnected cave system teeming with 'em. Karz, he didn't like the idea of the Dark Walk even back when it was tepid and lame and didn't have the Root of All Evil around to make it actively worse. Now? Forgeeeeeeeeeet it, homeslice. They could keep their rare minerals and bauxite deposits and whatever, he'd sooner cave in an entrance than willingly cross it— Speaking OF, "Hey Leli, check the second pouch on your side. I can't remember if we still have my Stralix Powder."

IC: ... Well, that was pretty quick. Must have been a traveler making their way to the Koro proper through the woods— If these guys were as supposedly nefarious as zelvin had claimed, they wouldn't have lead with a giveaway of their position, right? Wouldn't make a lick of sense. Not to Jolek, anyway. He craned his neck, squinting for a moment in the direction of the voice— there, about a hundred bio or so out to their right. A tall Toa, clad in silver and green armor, whose cone-shaped straw hat stood out distinctly against the darker mahoganies and blacks of the charred wood around him. He didn't seem sinister, near as Jolek could tell— just a traveler. An armed traveler, yeah, but that was par the course for travelling anywhere that wasn't a main road. Behind him, Zelvin's tense voice floated in, warning him to stay alert in case of visitors with less benign intent dropping in. Well, no sign of them yet... to begin with, he had neglected to mottle down either of their natural armoring with the ash that clung to their feet. If he was alone, he doubted it would have made too much difference; his natural greys and gunmetals already did a good portion of the work in breaking up his outline against the ashen backdrop of the forest, mist often clinging to the air and fading the lines further. If he'd put his heart into it, he could definitely creep through here with much more secrecy. Zelvin, however, was someone he'd managed to mistake for a Ga-Toa when they first ran into eachother on account of her natural coloration— made sense that a bright spot of blue would stand out against the backdrop, no matter how much that cloak of hers had picked up the greys of soot and travel. Had he just not thought of it, or had he tunnel visioned on just checking his traps because he was starting to feel peckish? He couldn't really say, but in either instance— Yeah, that's my fault. It was on him, as the guy leading the hunting party, to decide how thorough they'd be with regards to concealment. Nobody else's. Well, he'd made eye contact now, and the sound was already gonna attract whatever attention that cared to investigate within earshot. A snapping branch would have been an annoying blunder, but potentially easy to be written off— a voice was unmistakably a voice, thus a presence, thus a person— either hunter or prey, whichever the "Ash Lads" would care to see them as. If they were here, and looking to fight, they'd be on their way. If they would want to be gone, they'd be going. So saying, "We'll see," he replied, in something between a stage whisper and a holler of his own, as if nudging the volume down gradually from where their exchange had started. "Just checkin' some snares a few hundred bio in! You need help or something?" The die was already cast— in his eyes, this much wouldn't really make things appreciably worse. If they'd wanted to retain a clandestine approach at this, they'd need to beat feet and get the karz away from the source of a loud noise that told lurkers where they might have been. They'd have to completely reposition, separating from the Le-Toa and all but throwing him to the wolves to throw them off their scent. He personally disagreed with the idea of leaving this stranger to their fate, if worst really came to worst. Better to crack their skulls early.

IC Long Shunkyou (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): "Safe land." he replied, waving away his previous victim object of concern as she fell in with another of her peers. "I'm told some the Chand have taken up residence in some collective form near here. They say they're gathering the kids there for the time being; something-or-other about Imperials keeping a foothold on Odaiba while those demons ran amok." He regarded Lii sidelong as his fists returned to their resting place at the small of his back, just beneath the looseness in his newly-creaking back. He couldn't believe it— all the stretching he did as a proper warrior, only for his joints to lock anyway. She was a hotheaded young upstart, as he remembered her, brash and powerful. One of the daring few who chose to pursue the path of the Rage— to say nothing of it being her first discipline of choice. It reflected well on her boldness, her strength of fire within her soul— he would not deny the girl her earned pride in this regard. However. "If you intend to put on a brave face and ignore your wounds, you'll tear them open further yourself. Favor it. Take my shoulder if you must." His mask glowed again, softly. He felt a rivulet of sweat upon his brow— truly? Was this his new limit as Datsue? To only manage scrapes as simple as this once or twice in an hour? He was living with the fact that he could no longer outright mend gashes like hers, only setting them on the right path for recovery (leave that in their hands, honestly); to only be able to use any ability only so often was like being caged. He doubted this archipelago had enough metal in it to do that properly. "Won't be able to train yourself with a bum thigh." They trudged on, tightening their group as they passed through a pocket of trees. It was supposed to be near here, only another couple hours at this pace... Where'd the guide run off to? The back to chat up one of her friends from the temple? If she had, he'd beat the tar out of her— assuming they didn't get pounced upon by rahi, or worse. Must I do everything myself? His grimace became a scowl, as he began to scan the trees around them. Thus far, the path was clear enough, but forests were where many beasts hid away from the searching eyes of small, bony sorts like him. The types of beasts that would mistake him, or indeed these hatchlings, for a snack.

IC: Cipher - The Rockwall "Then let's kick it off." I gruffly agreed, meeting his wolfish, swashbuckling smirk with a nod and slight grin of my own— for all this guy appeared to be, you and I both need to agree that his enthusiasm was its own subtle breed of infectious. And how could it not be? I had to admit, after the momentary adjustment period, my head was in the same place his had to have been. All of a sudden, all it takes me to get somewhere is look. I've spent decades hiking my way around this island, getting turned around by barriers, natural or otherwise, where I could see so tantalizingly close all the possibilities that lied just beyond. And now, all I had to do was think about it, and I'm there. I'd have found Ta-Wahi that fateful day in record time, and have by sheer process of elimination hunted that senseless jacketed kid down in record time, elusiveness of Kini-Nui notwithstanding. See Daring try and stick my forehead with a compass now... I was getting off track, and ahead of myself. If we intended to pull this off, I needed to be in the right frame of mind for it— no matter how simple a plan like this is on paper, it took execution. We were out of sight for the moment, concealed by some shrubbery. I had a clear enough line to the top of the Lighthouse, its glass dome glittering in the midday sun, waiting to be examined up close by an untrained eye. I checked above us. No overhang of the foliage. Canopies were far and away where forest fires of all stripes tended to hang out, and given that this plan involves taking a mass of elemental goop well beyond most leaves' smoke points, that was something I needed to pay attention to. "Here goes." In my hand, a concentration of light and heat began to form, swirling out from my palm into a steadily growing orb of dull red. Once I was satisfied with the size— this would end up a streak more than maintain it's shape to begin with— I began to ratchet up temperature, the heat leaking out from around me. Cook it more... more... It passed from red, to orange, towards a bright yellow-white— And as if I was chucking an Akilini disk, I leaned back and whipped my hand skyward, a burning line streaking through the air.

IC (The Outskirts of Dastana Republic Territory, Odaiba): They had come from the night. A young woman, a hatchling with naught but embers within her breast, stared over her shoulder as she and a scant few dozen others trudged through the grasses of Odaiba, looking back up towards the peak of Mount Koshiki. She’d once called the Northern Face home, its high and rocky slopes a comforting eyrie for her people to nestle within— yet now, all she could do was swallow the black bile of dread that welled up in her throat as its shadow loomed high over the plains. Demons. Oni. Yaoguài. Tall, hunch-backed and blade-spined things that had crawled from the blackened lake of the caldera and descended as legion, blade-tipped staves catching the light of moon and fire. Their sickening chitters and hisses still echoed in her ears— their split faces opening to reveal writhing things within still haunting her mind’s eye. Her brothers and sisters, men and women so much further along the Way than she, felled in droves by fear that smothered even the fires of their souls, by pestilence that sapped their prodigious strength to a wilted, withered helplessness, by senseless fury that drove their Rage and Teeth against even eachother in the pandaemonium. What had they done? What Divinity, What Ancestral Spirit, Which Mighty Dragon had they wronged so? Her eyes grew misty, and the old man leading their march west stopped ahead of her. “Do not look back.” Even he had been reduced to ashes. Why? Thousands of years of peaceful study, of fellowship with their Chand brethren, of dedication to their way of life as the Ancestors ordained… It had all become grey, lifeless ash, no different from the earth they had fled upon beneath their feet. If Koshiki was once a volcano as she’d been told, a fitting home for dragons, was it not supposed to consume them in fire once their clan’s time had come? Why? Why, why, why? Why would it all come to an end like this? Why did they deserve it? Her gaze fell, even as she turned to face the Datsue steadily approaching her, muttering an unintelligible something under his breath. His once Great Sana, sleek and curved for speed like a dragon’s muzzle, was now merely Noble, twisted up and whiskered grumpily. “Did you not hear me, girl?” She had heard stories of what he’d done in weeks past— how the mountainside shimmered blue like a fallen star while the others escaped— and felt an unbearable lump in her throat as she regarded his form now. Was he not supposed to be the pinnacle? Was he not the man whom she, and other students like her, sought to surpass? This was no victory, no triumph of self-cultivation, no claiming of the throne as the prized jewel of her hoard of accomplishment. This was only witnessing something great grow old and lame, a reign cut short by tragedy, a worthy idol reduced to practically a tottering geriatri— “I told you—” An impact against the back of her right calf knocked it aside and forward, sending her staggering as her base was ripped out from beneath her, a leaf tossed in callous, careless wind. Incredulous as she caught herself, she stared down to the source of her imbalance, who in kind looked upon her with blunt dissatisfaction. Like he stood above her even in this state of his. “Eyes front. You want to cry about the past forever? Shall I leave you here and strike out on my lonesome, let your knees knock together in fear like a newborn Soko who cannot yet walk?” ..! This ungrateful little— who did he think he was talking to, someone he stumbled across on his way for a drink from the well?! They were here for him! She was outraged! She and their party had come all this way, venturing out into the plains to find stragglers like him even as those split-faced demons still roamed freely throughout the land, only for .:this dumb honored master of an old fart to call her me a coward?! Sure, I'm new to the Art. Sure, I've yet to master any advanced Traditions. And sure, I felt fear that day— but I'm a warrior, I'm an Initiate, and I've climbed the steps of my own will and proven my courage!:. If he thought her convictions craven and worthless, then he could go to— .:Good.:. Huh? A voice inside her mind. Master— No, Grandmaster Shunkyou’s. He’d... been listening? .:Your voice leaks out when you get mad, much like I mutter. Thought I’d tune in. See if I needed to sweep both your legs next before you snapped out of that.:. She very slowly reexamined his face, now less blindsighted in her furor, and found the Long Datsue smirking. In his pale blue eyes, there was a twinkle of pride— or perhaps mischief. Her face began to flush, her blunder washing away anger with embarrassment and, if one must be honest, more than a little terror at having so thoroughly disrespected a notoriously proud warrior. Why had she done that..? .:...Sir, I didn’t mean to sa-:. .:No, no. That was good. It was very good, hatchling. Nurture that. Fan the sparks in your heart. That was good kindling. Especially calling me an 'old fart'.:. His voice was warm, in the way that witnessing licking tongues of flame from a few feet back was. Even knowing he was a Datsue now, she felt herself daring not to consider the idea of anyone barging into his thoughts. Lucky for her that he chose mirth over offense like her own. .:In time, and with practice, you will be able to harness those bursts of heat without need for blinding colors like fury or indignation. Confidence and independence will fuel your furnace, stoke the blaze in your chest. You are a Dragon, you know— just as you put it, you sought the Art by choice, because you sought the Wisdom it cultivates. It’s looking like you’re closer to find the Dragon’s Heart within yourself than you realize, child. Fear less of them, and instead believe you are fearsome.:. His mask shone momentarily, a bruise on her shin from the trek softening before he turned and began to march Northwest once more. This time, he returned to speaking, assuring that not only their congregation, but the World itself would hear: “"We made our home on the mountain of dragon's breath." "It was inevitable that our discipline would be consumed in the fire that burns bright within us." “It was a harsh trial.” “But one we knew would await us all, on one such day. We could not avoid being tested by the powers that be forever.” “My Master felt the quivering of fate deep within her flame.” “We lost our temple, but the Art survives through us, the practitioners, not some building.” “We lost far fewer than we would, were we less dedicated.” “A shame and a tragedy are different in that one can create anew what was lost in the former.” “Now is our time to spread these teachings, and spread the Art.” “So long as even one ember survives deep within our bellies, Soulfire will never die. Remember, all of you.” —— Long Shunkyou, 25th Grandmaster of Soulfire. Such were the Fiirst Lessons of the new Era. They marched on towards the northwest, new horizons in sight. OOC: The Old Wyrm is open for interaction.

Very humbled by all the interest this has garnered— can't give enough of the credit to Omar— this was his brain child, I just put the pieces together in his wake. The neat part about these guys is that this post is largely all you need to get one going! They're politically apathetic, and independent people from the Empire, and value personal autonomy extremely highly, so there's every chance your prospective crystalsmith or brainpower enthusiast only really needs to know what happened at the beginning of the arc before you're good to plug and play.

There are those who braved the flames of Koshiki in the Old Times, back when the mountain raged as the dragons that called it home do. For them, it was worthy pilgrimage— of all the creatures the tribes of Odaiba had encountered, none held such nobility and power as the Kanohi Dragons. It was there that they would find their new home, their new study, their new Way. The fire in the breath of each Dragon was as their own from the Mind, only a billion times brighter. A Dragon was a being without peer, a warrior and sage that flew through the Heavens and touched the same skies as the Gods. To be acknowledged by them was good omen, that they may impart their long-held wisdoms upon you. To antagonize them was to court swift death, the insolence of the small. To emulate them would be to find strength where ones' frailty, ones' blindness to the blaze in their Soul, had formerly shackled them. They would find that same wisdom and power within themselves, as many Long passed down teachings to generation after generation in a single Dragon's lifetime. They would Become Them. This is the old tradition. In collaboration with Onarax, the originator of Soulfire as a concept and the Chand half of the Chand-Long confederation: TAJAAR CLAN- CHAND-LONG The Chand-Long are a confederate clan of Taajar that occupy the mountains and plains of the large island of Odaiba. Originally two clans— wandering crystalsmiths and mountain-dwelling monks— they came to a mutual agreement of protection and exchange of knowledge. Both clans of this alliance value the autonomy of their members highly. So long as one shows respect to traditions such as the Naffir, and the brotherhood between both halves of their clan, they are largely free to do as they wish once they have completed their vocational training. They are a collective rather than a traditional “clan” in this sense: Chand-Long will come together in aid of other Chand-Long, but will not dictate how their fellows spend their lives. Due to the hybridized nature of this clan, the Chand-Long have instituted a tradition of alternating heritages for each Jahagir elected, with an advisor from the opposite tribe appointed to them as their second. Chand: Strongly traditional and nomadic horse people. Renowned throughout the Taajar for producing the best weaponry and hunters/fighters. They are extremely skilled at mounted combat with a blade or other close combat weapon, and tend to spend their time traveling throughout the archipelago. Members of the clan are not required to remain together and are often seen roaming on their own. The exception is when the Toroshu calls the clan together for a Naffir, at which point all members are expected to drop whatever personal work they may be involved in and gather at the ancestral home of the Clan, be it to share knowledge and wealth, or to respond to a crisis concerning their people. Members of the clan typically take on a variety of different jobs, the most common being hunters, hired guards for other Taajar clans, and traveling crystalsmiths. As their weapons and arms are renowned for being the best in Taajar equipment it is easy to make a profit this way. Due to the loose affiliations between Clan members, the clan is known for being even more politically neutral than the standard Taajar clan, bordering on politically apathetic. Taajar fighters of this clan tend to focus heavily on weaponry for close combat, and their easy access to expert crystalsmiths lead to them being one of the few clans still in possession of long curved swords. These included Shamshir, Sorohi and Talwar. They also own a fair number of straight swords, these include the Khanda and the Pata rapier. Members with a higher standing in the clan often carry a Gupti with them, proof of their station. The other focus of their weaponry is on spears, the generic term for which is sinan. Nezah served as the typical cavalry lances and are long but light weight polearms with a small spearhead at the end. On foot, the typical weapons are either the heavy weight Barchhah or the light weight Sang which possessed a longer multi-sided head. While these types of spears were the most common, other forms still exist. While spears and swords were the most developed and common forms of weaponry employed by the clan, they did still possess a variety of daggers and knives. In addition other forms of weaponry have been crafted by the expert crystalsmiths in the clan. Armoring, by contrast, is much less prevalent. Members in the clan did not typically wear heavy armor, preferring to devote their available crystal to their weaponry. Nevertheless they did still employ light forms of armor, preferring cloth interspersed with crystal. In addition they often employed light shields. One thing moderately unique about the clan, is that their crystalsmiths are known for creating crystal armour for their Sokos, lamellar-styled barding they have trained their horses to wear for increased protection. This armor is typically only available for higher ranked and wealthier members of the clan. As part of their alliance with the Long, the Chand that reside at the mountains’ base tend to keep out interlopers from the peaks, as well as provide supplies and information of the happenings of the outside world. Long: Ascetic and largely self-secluded from the world, the Long are a clan that strive to emulate the great Kanohi Dragons that call the mountain range their Dojo is nestled within home, through martial arts and a discipline harnessing the natural psychic energy found within them— Soulfire. The Long tribe are descendants of the first Taajar pioneers to scale the Northern Face of Mount Koshiki, constructing their monastery devoted to the refinement of the psychic energies all Menti carry within themselves, a system of combat and elemental discipline totally distinct from those of the Imperial society to the Northwest. After all, they had already long carved the ten thousand steps that lead to the temple well before anything that resembles recent memory in Dasakan society. The Long lived, until calamity befell Odaiba, in a compound roughly halfway to the peak of Koshiki dominated by the aforementioned stone monastery. Once strictly isolationist, in recent years there was a somewhat free flow between the two tribes of the clan up and down the many, many steps towards the Long temple, as Long accept warriors who wish to train as monks from the Chand into their order, and the Chand take Long on as apprentices in their trades of horsemanship or crystalsmithing, either to simply gain worldly experience or to even realize a new calling— not all find themselves so obsessed by training the body. At times, even fully realized Long Monks will accompany traveling Chand smiths as they walk the archipelago, providing their Nomadic brothers protection as they in turn are provided an enlightening Pilgrimage. During the time of a Naffir, wandering Long will be sure to return to the Nest with learning and examples of new developments in the world around them— oftentimes alongside as many supplies as they can carry. ~SOULFIRE~ Hey Buddy, it’s Arc 3 and everything’s A Mess, How Does This Work: As dark forces invaded their home’s peak, the Chand-Long are today a particularly scattered group post-evacuation. Many Chand smiths and their Long bodyguards were forced to ride out the early days of the storm by mustering as many Soko as possible to help those evacuating the temple retreat from the Rahkshi horde, the most experienced monks staying behind as vanguards to buy time for the children and initiates to escape down a winding, rarely-used trail. The temple they called home was totally lost, its former head anointing her foremost disciple as her successor before taking final rest within the blaze. Many Chand and Long have taken residence within or near the Dasakan footholds into Odaiba, offering services as Crystalsmiths or fighters against the tide of Makuta in exchange for safe land to house the next generation. These settlements are managed by the current Acting Jahagir, a now-Datsue by the name of Long Shunkyou. Others still returned to nomadism upon evacuation, their autonomy uncontested even by the tragedy that befell the whole. They roam the far reaches of the Archipelago, furthering their respective arts without pause. Whichever Path you choose is yours. The seed from which your hoard is grown is your pilgrimage, be it through the land, or through your Arts. Remember— Dragons do not bow, nor do they weep. Go. Learn. Cultivate your hoards. Seek knowledge, seek strength, seek wisdom, seek retribution. Do as you will— as will your fellows. Any who impede you will learn their folly. You are Dragons, and your Soul will be as Inferno.

please enjoy your stay at khy;barr as we teach you our many ancient traditions

IC: {Khy;Barr, The Temple of Guns} "Come on, Bonema:n—" the shepard of his people intones, voice thick with unbridled mirth. It is the sound of little else than a bludgeon, one of the many autohammers striking the air. Unpleasantly sonorous. "There is much yet to do." Leaving the Lesterin to their stammers, shrieks, and croons, the lone Skakdi to stand within Arms' inner circle rolls his neck as he steps in the giant's wake.

IC: Cipher - The Rockwall "Improvise." I repeated it back to him, intent on letting the moment hang enough for him to second guess himself, if he was going to— and he might have not even noticed, already prying the Kualsi from his now bare face. Inwardly, I wanted to sigh. Looked like he was forcing my hand now. Trust is something to be repaid unto itself— I could kill him here, and take his mask. It would be easy, and neither of us entered through normal means; a good chance he and I being here might not have even registered to the authorities. I watched his shoulders sag when the strength left him, that cheeky, swashbuckling aura he'd carefully maintained now forced to recollect itself after a two-ton weight had dropped onto him. He'd only met me fifteen minutes before, and now he was all but thrusting his life into my hands. My falcata's at my hip, and my mask is still on. I've been sharp for months now. At the top of my game. ... "Alright, we'll see how it shakes out." Of course I'm not gonna kill him. With a grimace, I pulled my Calix free, and I too felt the world sit upon my back as it had not in ages. My vision dulled, my mind blurred, my plasma within me cooled to a dim red flicker. There are those who train their bodies in this state, all but crushed by their own armor, and they're psychos. Insanity. If i wasn't careful, I would lose focus as my body tried to reallocate only a tenth of its ability to the now-immense pressure on my shoulders. I carried all this junk around? I was wearing a mountain as a Dermis does its Shell. In the palm of my right hand, the Calix sat. In my left, I accepted the Kualsi, plucking it free from Verak's fingers. They seemed gaunt now, as he suddenly looked weathered, colorless. "Wear it in health." And I completed the exchange, gingerly attuning to the— Kanohi Kualsi Great Mask of Quick Travel All Things A Man Sees Are Both His Destination, And His Journey. A rush filled my mind, as Possibility, Potential, and Power flooded me anew, the same key that locked one container away unlocking another. New masks are jarring as karz.

IC: "Easy, Tar," he shot back, leering grin already worming its way onto his face as he bounded up onto the Ussal with ease. Plopping down next to the crystal-garnished Matoran to his right, he snatched hold of his favorite spot upon Cancer's shell, weight settling upon that all-too-familiar contour. It was great to be home. "He's a strong boy— might get offended by ya for that one. I've seen him haul more ore than two of these combined!" IC: Can we go?

IC: Right then. "Let's move. We've got a couple hours of light left before scavengers start waking up and I run the risk of going home empty-handed. Hope you can keep up." Without waiting for much in the way of a response, Jolek took off into a steady jog outside the gates, tossing a quick wave to the guards manning the drawbridge at this hour— men he'd found a kind of passing familiarity with in these regular trips to and from the Charred Forest, and they him in turn. Never learned their names, but he knew more or less knew their faces. For him, and for them, that was enough. Maybe that was part of it all. Cloistering himself within his own head, in his tight, tight sphere. He heard Zelvin's footfalls in his wake, presumably easily keeping pace. He fought the urge he felt to pour speed on, as if chased or raced— old habits. Couldn't lead well at a dead sprint. Not through the terrain he was headed into. The stone gave way to ash, turning the staccato tapping of their strides into soft puffs of fine dust as they ran. The Charred Forest, as he'd alluded to earlier, was a decent thicket of desiccated and smoke-dried woods, just as much material being living hardwoods as blackened, dead husks. These trees were easy to hollow out, the soft ground easy to burrow within and hide from the rare large predator that stalked through the maze of trees. Small game— Rahi no bigger than a brakas, generally— was the main thing you could find in the forest, tucked away from the many watchful eyes of Nui-Rama or Kofo-Jaga. Lava rats, adolescent Hikaki or Infernavika... Those were usually what his snare traps managed to turn up. The latter two were rare, typically only venturing this far from the lava floes to hunt the former, but always a nice surprise. It took about fourty five minutes, give or take, to make headway into the brush from the gates, and here their pace slowed by necessity. This was in part to make sure he got a bead on the specific landmarks that he'd plotted as a course to lead him to his favored hunting grounds— that half-split tree on his left was about twenty paces at steady walk to the tree he always took a few swings at before continuing through (thus the denting in its almost rubbery bark), for instance— and in equal parts that continuing at their jog was... He lifted his foot, glancing down and kicking a fallen twig to the side, out of their path. Was a very loud idea, unless you got lucky. Since this was one part collection and one part manhunt, not a good call. He took a slow, long breath, listening through the air that surrounded them as he walked forward, silently pointing to each landmark for the old woman behind him— tracing their path. Light birdsong, practically dead air compared to his home to the south, but so far, nothing. The air was warm and dry, a light tinge of fire down his throat as it lay atop the ground, a blanket of rising heat. Ash suspended in the air— at first glance, it appeared similar to a light mist, but it only served to trap the heat of the lava to the west, carrying it over them like a thick coat. He had to wonder. Did she have any more specificity to work with regarding these two than "Charred Forest"? There were a few houses out here that he'd considered, but they were fairly scattered. The search could easily come up dry. For now, though, he needed to keep quiet. He'd speak when noise was unavoidable.

IC: Leli, I understand you're pretty, but you're not wearing ribbons that get under your carapace and itch like Kellin's neck did on the boat ride that he complained about incessantly for two and a half weeks. You remember that, don't you? His scarf got wet and he fell asleep wearing it. You don't want me to start complaining like he does and scratching my shell raw. IC: "You're on, my man. Speakin' my language. I'm takin' a delivery fee, though. LELI!" he yelled, after taking the Ussalryman's hand and forcing a shake out of it whether Tarnok had agreed to one or not. The Leli in question was trying to adorn Cancer with a sequined of crystal-studded ribbon at the moment, pointedly ignoring the two bits of muscle that could talk speak speak Matoran with her, trying to be off in her own little world while coordinating fashion. He didn't mind that bit, to be honest. The stones brought out the handsome quality to his eyestalks— but the De-Matoran, as a businessman, had a solemn duty to rip her out of her reverie. "ME AND MY CRAB ARE GETTIN' A CUT!" Said crab skittered, which Kellin assumed to be either agreeing with him or something to the tune of "Bro, this ribbon is a game-changer".

IC: Cipher - The Rockwall "Mm." I grunted eloquently, mulling it over. "I like it, but..." It was a pretty good plan in a vacuum, honestly. Points for style, utilizing the strengths of both Kanohi effectively to solve the stated problem, eliminating the problem of fortifications by bypassing it entirely...to a point, it had the makings of an easy jaunt through the most interesting part of the city. I'd rolled with worse ideas— I'd spent the past couple of weeks chasing one of them down. That said, he was right in that it took more than a little trust— as far as Kanohi went, we both had pretty well-regarded (or if I'm honest about it, sought-after) pieces on us. More importantly, these were ours— less like trading out ammunition for crossbows and more like swapping arms. With how much he seemed to be in good cheer, riding an adrenaline high after popping in front of me, I had a pretty good feeling he wasn't thinking of this as an opportunity to "trade up". For my part, my Calix had saved my life more times than my halberd or falcata; the thing was practically my biggest weapon. When you walked into as much nonsense as I did, catlike reflexes and agility alone were life-changing on their own, to say nothing of the minor boosts in general athletic capability. What I'm getting at here is that I didn't think I either of us were planning on an extended switch here. Exactly as he said, a quick jaunt through the lighthouse and then a reunion near that dock, or something. Nothing to do with prolonged separation, one actor getting incarcerated, one actor becoming forced out of the port or the Wahi by a concerted manhunt by the many guards the aforementioned tower was bristling with, one actor getting lost, none of that— just quick, clean fun at the Marines' expense. But, even the best laid plans went to Karzahni once a monkey wrench got thrown into the gears. Source: Me, friendly island-wandering monkey wrench. "What happens if we don't end up finding eachother, though? If things go bula-shaped, I might not be able to get the Kualsi back to you." Gotta think about this stuff in my (our?) line of work. Confidence was key, but so was readiness.

dragons cannot hear zalgotext because roar too big

IC: Without preamble, a silver-and-gunmetal ghost floated out from the throng, footsteps light and presence low. Nothing much going on today after all, only a couple of street brawls and lost pets— nothing that would amp him up as he'd hoped. The fights weren't even new faces— he'd broken bread (waffles) with most beforehand, and they knew to not wreck the place enough for him to care to stop them. Honestly, if he didn't have a job to do, he'd have offered they take a swing on him for the Karz of it next. Instead, the young Toa had spent his final hour actively preparing, forcing his mindset back to the forests. A familiar territory, for a familiar task, and in so embodying it he let his concerns fade away behind focus. He walked with a light step, a diminished presence, and let the world slide around him as he moved rather than force his path through. Though not in possession of Volitak or even Huna, he had barely drawn the eyes of the crowd. Even his breath had stilled, manifesting only as subtle shifts in his diaphragm— inaudible, imperceptible. He'd seen Muaka move like this. Quiet. Still. "Ready."

IC: Leli. Leli, please. Leli, I know you know what my carapace opens up for in those specific places. Leli, I don't have spiracles, please do not mess with my gills. I need those for air. I honestly think you should take a look at how gracious Tarnok has been and oh look he found dip#### IC: There's my crab. And my other friends, too. He'd already gleaned on the ride home from Lekua that the guy was just as lost as he was the whole way through. Tarnok, though? Honestly, he hoped that even if the Onu-Matoran currently loading up his partner-in-mine (and in war crime, come to think of it. Wait, was it still a war crime if you evacuated a hospital before blowing it up? Come to think of it, Ko was getting really fuzzy in his head, did he even have his Boomstick sti--) "There you guys are! I was beginning to think I'd need to hang out on this dumb boat forever!" he called in return, before tugging his yellow scarf a touch looser and shooting the nearest Menti a quick "—no offense—" before making his way down the gangplank in proper, orderly fashion (a wave hit the side of the ship and he nearly faceplanted but played it off great), befitting a foreign dignitary returning home from destiny's calling. "Where the Karz are you takin' my crab, homes?" What was he thinking about? Right. Yeah, this whole thing went completely over his head except for the Rahkshi splurge. Maybe Tarnok had a better time of at least making sense of everything. Or maybe he had his head in the right place, and those shiny trinkets from an exotic land they'd swiped were about to make all four of them serious widgets.

IC: Cipher - The Rockwall "To start, and I'm being polite here only because you've already been such a gracious host to me," I began, electing to suppress my urge to firmly grab the roguish Toa of Sand on the shoulder for emphasis and instead settle with affixing to him a flat look for about three seconds, "Please never call it that again." I've heard much, much worse, if I had to be perfectly honest, but even if I knew I probably should have found it a little funny, I just couldn't get behind that one. "Anyway... Hrm." I then grunted, dropping my straightman routine and casting my gaze back out to the task at hand. What I could get behind was the unfortunate fact that Ga-Koro really left our work cut out for us— regular, armed patrols staggered thoughtfully, a singular maritime entrance with the majority of the aforementioned crossbow-hefting guard force overlooking it, not to mention the water not being as entirely murky as I'd like... we needed to find a spot we could get eyes to leave, even if it wasn't the front gate. "Well, I may not look it, but I'm a Su-Toa." I mentioned, going through the old playbook one by one. "Bright lights can probably be pretty distracting if they're in the sky and moving fast."

IC: Cipher - The Rockwall I had no idea if any of that was true. It sure didn't sound it. Not the first time I'd had tall tales tossed my way, if my hunch was on the money. I mean, look at him— those stares we were garnering didn't scream "part and parcel of the Rockwall experience" to me. I don't think they would for anybody— But, I'mma let it ride. Had "fun drinking story" plastered all over it, if you ask me. "By all means," I replied, starting off after him as he cajoled me towards the weathered tower of stone. "Let's roll."

IC: There went Lekua. ... Where's my crab? IC: There's Leli and Tarnok. Where's Numbskull?