Void Emissary

IC: Sulov | Sulov Maru's Trail Mix and Hookah Bar "We couldn't influence the tide of civil war between our koro, brother," Sulov responded, his voice flat, without accusation, merely laying out facts and concerns as one might lay out plates for dinner. "And where Makuta goes, trouble brews. Outside and in." But his green eyes were softening; by fractions, yes, but softening nonetheless. "But there are threats," he continued. "And we're the Maru. We fight the threats. I'll speak to Nuparu, and the Captain, and I'll convince them of your plan. And when this is all said and done..." By fractions. "...we'll make sure that history doesn't repeat itself." OOC: @EmperorWhenua@Emzee -Void

IC: Rynekk | The Fowadi "Spiritspeed to you, Pirok." It was amongst the last things that Rynekk had said to that young man, that young foolish man, before the ship-lines had been untied and the tide had been caught, and the Fowadi drifted out and away from the island. Pirok, standing on the docks, had grown smaller and smaller, less and less distinct, until he was a speck, a shadow, a bare hint of a man on the horizon... and then nothing at all. Rynekk exhaled heavily through his nose once, twice, and then turned from the side of the ship. Pirok's fate would be his own, a destiny made for himself, and Rynekk knew that there was naught he could have done for the boy, the man. His fingers still lingered in the folds of the belt loop that had once held that hatchet, though. Those fingers remembered the warm embrace of another good man's shoulder, and the cold touch of a grave marker, abandoned now deep in the desert. He clenched those fingers into a fist. Pirok was gone, good as. The island vanishing on the horizon. There were other things to be done. *** There was something in the newcomer's face that stirred Rynekk's memory. He had never met the man before, even in passing, that was certain. And a hard sprint and a harder swim had left the figure ragged, his breathing haggard, so that little enough could be gleaned from the motion of his body, the way he carried himself. But in the face... yes, it was something in the jaw, or in the brow, or both, that conjured in Rynekk visions of another ship. A hated ship, from a long time ago, and yet not long enough. Infernavika. That was it, yes! Another man who had served on that ship, a pirate, who had thought himself some good man thrust into a bad world. Rynekk knew the type. His name had been Perkahn, although he couldn't remember if he had heard the name said aboard the ship, or had looked it up afterwards. Accomplice to murder, he had noted in the ledger of his mind. Now that he had a name to the face, the resemblance was unmistakeable. But this man was young, much younger than Perkahn had been -- a nephew then, or a son. For now, Rynekk let Krayn take charge. He just watched from a pace away. OOC: @Razgriz@Krayzikk -Void

IC: Sulov | Sulov Maru’s Trail Mix and Hookah Bar "They have to go to someone?" Sulov said. "To our Guard captains and Akiri? Give each of them a backdoor key to their neighbours' homes? You were military, too, Stannis -- but sometimes I forget that you left on good terms with your superiors." Sulov flinched, tried to hide it. He had forgotten about the stranger in their midst, an audience to a detail that didn't line up with the official biographies of Sulov Uhunga. But a friend of Stannis'.... "The Walks are a weapon beyond anything most Koro have," he continued, leaning forward imperceptibly. "Better, I think, if no one lays claim. Not Makuta... and not us, neither." OOC: @EmperorWhenua@Emzee -Void

IC: Rynekk | The Fowadi Rynekk didn't like it, but the boy was stubborn; and, Spirit blast it all, he knew stubborn. Better to give him the best chance of making it out of that pit alive and unscathed -- if such a thing were even possible. Just another one dead by your hand, said S̷̪̀t̷̩͊͋e̴̖̎̕ṅ̷͚͝d̸̼̀ͅh̴͝ͅa̵̪͔̒l̶̨̳͐̈'̸̰̝̎s̸̭͒ ̶̩̔̑v̶̲̤̎̚ö̶̢̫̕í̶̛͕͕c̴̢̦̀͒e̵͚̓ ̸͔͕̈̑i̶̦̗͛n̵̤̞͗̏ ̸̛̛̣͜m̶̰̽̍ͅy̵̥̽̚ ̶̩̕h̶̤̗̍͐e̶͕̅a̸̦͊ḋ̴̺͂.̴̤̯̒͊ "Hard to say much about the Necromancer's... victims," he said, the word sour in his mouth. "Most of them were people who lived on the outskirts of society -- outriders, trappers, merchants, mercenaries, transients. People we don't have many records on; people who Echelon knows would fall through the cracks. However many we know about, there's beyond to be at least twice as many more. And that's being conservative." He gave Pirok the scant names that he knew off-the-top of his head -- which, he knew, were already more than enough to raise eyebrows, but he didn't much want to let his reputation kill this boy if a missing piece of information cost him dearly. He glanced over to the man who must have been Praggos, raising an eyebrow: Did I miss anything? Even if Praggos couldn't answer, at least Rynekk didn't have to look at Pirok. He didn't think he would be able to keep the grief out of his eyes. OOC: @a goose@otter Sorry for the wait! -Void

IC: Gunner | The Dancing Crab Let Lohkar parry philosophies with another hired gun on the run, I figured, while I make sure that this nimrod's nimrods were well beyond the horizon. I tapped the Captain lightly on the shoulder, nodded slightly towards Tailua, then towards the front of the tavern, and clicked my tongue once for good measure. I prayed he got the message -- I was already up and out of the backroom by then. I almost missed the broken window as I stepped into the main room, so casual were the patrons of the Crab. Might as well have been that nothing was amiss at all, but a good quartermaster knows that might as well don't mean is, and I spotted the poor busboys sweeping up the shattered glass from the floor. I walked over to the bar, where the owner-slash-barkeeper was grumbling over a few dozen shot glasses of stinking Salamander. I traded a few words of concern for his damaged property (not appreciated), and slid over enough widgets to buy a hypothetical top-shelf bottle if such a thing could be found here (more appreciated). I slipped a couple more widgets into the aprons of the busboys on my way to the window, too. The scene outside the broken window was a sight indeed. The shape of a body underneath a sheet was impossible to miss in the middle of the road, and I prayed that someone, anyone, got it out of the sun before too long. Mostly, though, I was praying that whoever was under there was the same person that had been hunting Tailua, and I wouldn't have to worry about them anymore. But, you know me. Lady Luck's never been my biggest fan. So, instead, I glanced about, checking the alleys and the rooftops and the mid-day crowds for a sign of an assassin, or even an assassin's assistant. A glint of a sword on a passerby, but that was to be expected; same as skulking youths in the alleyways, probably looking to fob off some shoddy narcotics; but had that been a shine of metal twirling up on above, on the rooftops? Hard to say, frankly -- could've been anything. But never could be too careful. "This place gotta back door?" I asked one of the busboys as he stood back up straight. He answered in the affirmative, pointed in the expected direction, and I -- like an idiot -- gripped my sword and headed back there.... OOC: @Ghosthands@Emzee potentially to run into the Waif's supervisor? Up to you -- let me know if Gunner potentially catching sight of the Waif's twirled knife is too much. -Void

IC: Sulov | Sulov Maru’s Trail Mix and Hookah Bar As Stannis and Ra'lhen finished, Sulov closed his eyes, rubbing his knuckles against his chin as he thought. "Plan's sound," he finally said, his eyes still shut as the wheels in his head continued to turn, and he ignored the ice water running through his veins. "We'd need to bring it to the Akiri, or the Captain, but it's sound. But...." Slowly, he opened his eyes back up. "That word. 'Claim and fortify the Dark Walk,'" he continued. "We can fortify the Walks, and we can rig them to cry to Artakha and back when the Rahkshi start marching. But I don't like the idea of a politician claiming what belongs to the devil -- not one bit." OOC: @EmperorWhenua@Emzee -Void

IC: Daijuno & Zyla Dastana | Ga-Koro Inner Port "Yes, well," I said breezily, flashing the Toroshu a winning smile, "what some might see as work, I see as a pleasure. I've always viewed myself as a people-person -- ask anyone!" I ignored the way that Zyla barely suppressed a snort. "But, in all seriousness," I added, adding a careful note of solemnity to my voice, "my thanks for your help with Rhow's, er, memory issues. Nice bit o' diplomacy yourself there, eh? Of course, way that she talked about it to me, seems like most people who come to this island have had similar experiences to her -- except for us. Strange, isn't it? I can't imagine-- oh! Well, I-- I'm sure that there's some matter of confidentiality between a willhammer and their... matron, I guess, but I don't suppose that you... sensed any source of that mass amnesia while you were with Rhow, did you? Now, an answer like that would go a long way to ingratiating us to the local populace." OOC: @Mel -Void

IC: Vyartha | Second Passenger Car on the Iron Mahi I didn't lower my sword, but I glanced back to where Nikarra had spoken -- not for long, but enough to see the colour return to her cheeks and her eyes light up with the glow of sentience. Still no one behind us in the compartment, though. That was something, at the very least. I turned my head again, back to where the sounds of movement had come from. "People are climbing on the outside of the train," I said, shuffling backwards, back towards Nikarra. "Moving backwards. No efforts to attack us yet. What did you find?" OOC: @a goose -Void

IC: Daijuno & Zyla Dastana | Ga-Koro Inner Port As she left, I reckoned that I would be thinking about the rise of Wokiya's eyebrow for quite a while. "I would've hoped that she'd have told me that herself," I muttered faintly to myself, the image of Wokiya's smile faded from my mind, replaced by an empty crate where Rhow was no longer sitting. "But, then, I suppose I'm just some schmuck who wandered into her gin joint on a random day of the week. Hmph. Any case. I hope that the experience wasn't too... difficult for her? The people of this island aren't as used to games of the mind as we are." "We are, of course, most grateful for your generous assistance, Toroshu Plangori," Zyla added, bowing deeply in my peripheral vision. OOC: @Mel -Void

IC: Sulov | Sulov Maru’s Trail Mix and Hookah Bar "We're the Maru," he said simply. He gave Ral'hen a generous nod of acknowledgement -- Here's one who's got his head on straight -- before returning his gaze to Stannis. "We're the Maru, Stannis," he said again. "I tell Onu to jump, they're already in the air. I march to the Dark Walk, half the village marches with me." His gaze didn't waver from those grey eyes. "Despite everything." "You need my strength?" he continued. "Need my people, my hometown? Then we... I... need to know the plan here, brother. Because there's no prophecy this time. No quest. You were a Guard, same as me, and this is a Guard's game now. Not a Maru's. I... can't bring my people down there on... faith. So I need to you know what your... endgame here is." OOC: @EmperorWhenua@Emzee -Void

IC: Sulov snorted-- which, for someone his size, sent the tassels of the nearest cushion a-fluttering in the wind. He joined Stannis in the corner booth, reclining on those same cushions, his ceramic hand gripping the back of the seat. The designers had wanted to make the seats larger than average, a way to accommodate the mountainous size of their owner: but Sulov had wanted anyone to be able to come in and sit, and insisted the booths remain as they ever were. Karz, he was too big to go anywhere, anyway-- why stop that here? "We're coming out with new varieties," he said, shrugging and holding up his hands, palms-up: what else can I say? "Dried madu cabolo bits. Dry it right, it doesn't explode. The taste... makes you appreciate the other gorp more." OOC: @Emzee@EmperorWhenua -Void

IC: Sulov twitched his right hand, drew to it the dust in the air which met, congealed, hardened into a fist of oven-charred ceramic without ever touching flame. Opening it up, he reached over and gripped Ra'lhen's own hand, shaking. (Cark, good grip on this one. Boxer's shake; wonder how'd he feel about going a couple rounds after all this is said and done). "Just Sulov's fine," he said. "'Any friend of Stannis,' and all that. Let's sit." OOC: @Emzee@EmperorWhenua -Void

IC: Vyartha | The Iron Mahi's Second Passenger Compartment For a moment, there was nothing. And then, suddenly: the soft ting of contact of the roof, the subtle groaning of weight on a new piece of metal. Another and another, moving towards the edge of the carriage. I knew, then, that whoever was above was on the move once again. My blade didn't waver, merely followed the sound of movement. Had this interloper heard the soft padding of my footsteps all the way out there and was changing their trajectory? No, no, that couldn't have been it: I've been on carriages where I could barely hear myself think. To be outside of something moving this fast would nearly be debilitating. But then-- what were they after? OOC: @Krayzikk@oncertainty@a goose -Void

IC: Take a moment. Take it in. Take him in: Stannis, your commander, your old friend, who you hadn't seen since you and Reo and Leah and everyone else had cracked the nut that was occupied Ko-Koro and stolen away the Necromancer's prized hostages. Since that disastrous cross-Koro bar hop that Reo had managed to convince all of them, even Stannis, to participate in. Since that cold shiver down Sulov's spine: colder than Ko-Wahi and darker than death. Sulov had heard on the grapevine that Echelon was dead now, the rest of his lieutenants scattered to the six winds. Two months of hunting hadn't turned them up, even as he had pulled every loose thread he found dangling, turned over every rock, called in every favour. (A Maru gets a lot of those, too, even nowadays). Two months of hunting, knocking down the doors of historians and theologians, astrologers and acolytes to find the truth of the matter when it came to the questions of devils and their resurrections. Two months of hunting, and he'd come back home, looked into his bathroom mirror, and his face had been looking back at him-- and Sulov had known. So he had decided to sit, and to wait. He had tried to pull another Hiemalis, to run off half-cocked into the wilderness and head the monsters off at the pass before their shadows darkened the children's windowsills. Maybe to even pull off a Stannis and get his own personal Wander on, stumble onto Destiny's path. But that was erroneous, downright impossible, for an ontological reason: Sulov wasn't Stannis. Same as Stannis wasn't Sulov, or Reo, or Tahu, or even Pohatu. A bishop doesn't move left-right and a rook doesn't do diagonals -- and Sulov doesn't wander. Stannis does. He was the bishop of the Maru; Sulov, the rook. But, hey. You ever win a chess game with just a bishop? They'd live this time, Sulov had thought, storming his way through Ko-Koro all those months back, because they did this together. So he had waited for Stannis to wander in. "Hm," he finally said. "I guess can push some bookings around." (Hadn't expected the other guy, though.) OOC: @EmperorWhenua@Emzee -Void

IC: Vyartha | The Iron Mahi's Second Passenger Compartment Our compartment emptied quickly, and I was soon the only conscious body inside. Nikarra's prone form lay slumped in its chair -- her chair, I supposed, even though her soul was projected from it -- while she scouted out the situation aboard the train. Until then, it was my responsibility to safeguard her body. With no one to be alarmed by it, I reached up to grip the hilt of my sword. Stepping into the aisle, I glanced towards the front door of our passenger compartment; but, situated as Nikarra's seat had been in the middle of the compartment, I could only see the back of a Vortixx man in the next compartment up. I turned to inspect the back door, and saw nothing untoward, and certainly nothing that would have explained the terrible metallic screech that had come from there. But that had not been the only sound to be heard: there was the tinny reverb of a gunshot near the front of the train, and the impact of a body hitting the roof (I knew, of course, that it was a body for the uneven ra-ta-ta of different appendages hitting metal at fractionally different speeds). Whoever's body it was had made their way to the back of the carriage, and had evidently stayed on the roof. Front or back, then, was the question posed to me. Gunshot or skulker -- a definite threat at some distance, or an unknown variable right on my head? I drew my longsword from its sheathe. I crept across the worn carpeting of the aisle, glancing backwards every few steps to ensure that Nikarra remained undisturbed, until I arrived underneath where I presumed the roof-wise interloper remained. I slid the thumb of my right hand up and over the guard of my sword until it brushed metal, and at my urging the steel blade drank in the dry desert air until it seemed to glow red with heat -- pointed, as it was, up to the ceiling and, as best I hoped, towards the private parts of whoever was skulking so close to me and Nikarra. There I remained, ready to strike at the first sign of action. OOC: @Krayzikk@a goose@oncertainty Vyartha stationing herself at the rear of the second passenger compartment, hypothetically underneath Sergeant Nota, basically holding her action to attack once something happens. -Void