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Void Emissary

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Year 12


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    A lot of stuff...

    ...I really need to get around to actually writing this.

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  1. 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
  2. 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
  3. 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
  4. 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
  5. 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
  6. IC: Nika | Nuparu's Office Nika took the papers, glancing down at them briefly to confirm their correctness, and tucked them into an interior pocket of his coat. He could barely restrain a chuckle at his current situation: first Korzaa, then Angelus, and now the Akiri of Onu-Koro? He and his companions were really racking up government contracts. If this investigation took long enough, they could end up juggling deals all across the island. "Much obliged, Akiri," he said. "We'll attend to your village's records, then. In meantime, would recommend caution. No need for third leader in as many years." OOC: @Palm@Geardirector -Void
  7. IC: Dastana Daijuno & Zyla | Ga-Koro "Of course!" Daijuno said, a vision of self-satisfaction as she leaned back in her makeshift seat. "Please, whenever you're ready. Would you care to sit?" Zyla, for her part, gave her employer the professional courtesy of not rolling her eyes. Daijuno's greatest weakness had always been her hunger for praise -- preferably coming from someone in power, of course, but coming from a pretty woman with stars in her eyes was perfectly acceptable -- and it generally meant more trouble for Zyla than she could afford. The curse of the personal assistant, she supposed; and she glanced over to one of Wokiya's companions, the one who had pulled out quill and paper for his employer, sparing him a look of professional sympathy. Him. It was a pronoun that fit uncomfortably in Zyla's mind. Before arriving on this strange island, Zyla could probably have counted the number of men she had ever met on two hands. But here, on this Mata Nui, men seemed as common as leaves on trees. She wondered, idly, if their presence would awaken anything within her; but she could not really imagine it. Truthfully, even most women held little interest for Zyla, save for.... "Not really many chairs," Daijuno said, going through the theatre of looking around, turning quickly to a vision of embarrassment. "No, not many chairs, are there.... Zyla, maybe you could stand for a bit." No, Zyla considered. It didn't matter, did it? Not compared to the the curse of the personal assistant. OOC: @Emzee -Void
  8. IC: Nika | Nuparu's Office "Have no doubt," said Nika to Captain Onepu without turning his head, before he stepped into the hut. "Captain Onepu sent us," he said without breaking stride, elaborating for Pae, until he was standing right next to his companion. "Suggested some kind of partnership between us and Onu-Koro proper. In regards to the Turaga murders. Shared belief that money was key to operation -- no merc would go after such high-profile target otherwise. Floated name of Cultured Gentry over to us, possibility that the Gentry and old Whenua had some kind of disagreement. Turaga was holding them back; needed handling. Thought you might have records of old negotiations between Whenua and key lobbyists, see what comes of it." He leaned back slightly with that, bringing his suitcase over and in front of his thighs, almost casually. "Any records of interrogations with Turaga killer you had in custody would be good, too," he added. Nuparu would need to be keen to catch it, but Pae would have known Nika well enough to notice just the vaguest ghost of a smile on his lips. Their exact fate had never been conclusively ascertained, but rumours had lingered on the street for years that the Ussalry had captured Whenua's killer just after the act... only to lose them again shortly afterwards. OOC: @Palm@Geardirector@ARROW404 -Void
  9. IC: Rynekk | The Fowadi "Echelon the Necromancer," said Rynekk, glancing over to Tekmo. "One of Makuta's most infamous lieutenants. Dead now, as you've probably guessed; but we all thought he was dead years before, too...." He then looked back to Pirok, finding himself scarcely able to contain his frustration with the young man: a foolish, head-strong Toa far too assured of his own power and rightness to see the danger he was careening towards. The Makuta would make a meal out of him -- as He had once made a meal out of Rynekk, all those years ago. His frustration suddenly turned to sorrow and a fresh pang of regret. "Spiritspeed to you, if you really intend to go through with this," Rynekk said, his eyes hard but his voice as comforting as he could manage. He reached down to his belt and twisted from it a handaxe. It was visibly ancient, its wooden shaft worn from countless hands, and its blade was inscribed with a half-dozen hexagonal runes of a language that Rynekk doubted even a Rau-wearer could discern. But its blade was sharp, and that's mattered. As well as... "Take this; it might help you down in those depths," he said, holding the weapon out to Pirok. "It's been touched by some kind of magic; too far beyond my pay grade to guess at. But it'll blunt in the hands of an enemy, which might buy you a moment that could save your life." OOC: @a goose -Void
  10. IC: Gunner | The Dancing Crab "Uh huh," I mumbled, seating myself back down as I picked up the advertisement. I sensed the air behind me part for Lohkar and Blue-Eyes as they approached the table too, which was why I was so cavalier about losing eye-line on the man with the gun for a hand, considering I had a different man with a gun for a hand on my side. Still, I was only half-perusing the poster; mulling over this Tailua's words was my major preoccupation. "Hidin' out, huh?" I said, still not taking my eyes off of the paper. "Who from? NEX? Mangaia Pact? Or just one of the guardsmatoran wiping their rears with our tax dollars -- which I, of course, pay regularly and on-time? Far be it from me to invade your privacy, but I'd just like to know who might try to hunt our ship down in the future. You understand, of course?" OOC: @Emzee@Ghosthands@BULiK -Void
  11. IC: Gunner | The Dancing Crab I'll be full and truly honest with you, love, that I didn't know what to make of what this Solan fellow had meant by what he said. Probably nothing, looking back on our conversation -- just another bit of bluster from a man to whom the years had been most unkind. In any case, I shrugged the whole affair off, picked up my empty glass, and was just about to return to our booth to procure some more Po-Koronan comfort when -- what would you know? Someone else came barging into our backroom. I found myself sighing despite myself; my negotiations with Lash, Blue-Eyes and Solan had been taxing, and I had been hoping for a moment of quiet. But, the Captain was busy with the Lesterin, and as his First Mate, the interviews were obvious my prerogative. So, I took a deep breath and tried to remember how I dealt with patrons back when I ran the Rama Hive, remembering too late that the answer to that question was: poorly. "Did you think the ship was gonna leave without you, buddy?" I said, walking over to the new guy. This was another beefcake, a rectangle of a man whose shoulders and hips had to have been the same size. The man was tall, too, that was obvious. Just as obvious was the way that he kept looking over his shoulder, or the way his chest heaved as it settled an oxygen deficiency. The man was running from something or someone. Joy of joys. Couldn't we get someone boring today? "Why don't you sit down," I continued, gesturing towards the table I had just been sitting at, "if you're here on business?" OOC: @Emzee -Void
  12. IC: Dastana Daijuno & Zyla | Ga-Koro 'Taka, I'm good. "And I've got to apologize myself, Miss Wokiya," Daijuno replied with a smile that was, in Zyla's personal opinion, just a little too self-satisfied. "I didn't mean to besmirch your good reputation as a writer, but I did need to be sure that it was, indeed, you. You can only imagine how many people are looking to take advantage of a group of people who are still reeling and disoriented; and I doubt that any of them would be above impersonating one of the island's foremost journalists." "But enough about that!" she continued, taking the cigar out of her mouth and handing it over to Zyla, who quickly stubbed it out on the crate next to her. "You have questions, and I can only hope that I and my assistant, Dastana Zyla, can answer them. Zyla here just arrived here a few hours ago, but I've been here since the submersible you mentioned first arrived. I've even had a chance to meet with some members of the Ga-Koro branch of your publication, although not with a great deal of fruitfulness on either of our parts. Now, I'm not sure if there was a particular way that you wanted to proceed with this... interview?" OOC: @Emzee -Void
  13. IC: Rynekk | The Fowadi "Pirok, right?" Rynekk said, glancing over at the other man. This Pirok was young, maybe even younger than Rynekk, but as lean and strong as anyone who makes a living as a sword, hired or not. But his eyes... they were sharp, focused, as intense as the heat of a forest fire. Rynekk couldn't help but wonder how someone like him and someone like Skyra could possibly have known each other, let alone have been friends. "Your heart's good, friend," he said, "but the Necromancer's den is undoubtedly dangerous -- and not just with traps. Makuta's greatest weapon is temptation, and his wisest minions know that, too. You don't often go into a cultist's lair and emerge the same person." Of course, he was thinking of his own lair, from his own dark days: it had been a place of grim science and magicks, where he bred and fed the (then-)rare parakuka and refined his collection of infected Kanohi. Any traveller foolish enough to venture would find themselves assailed on all sides by powers bent on turning them to the way of the Makuta. This was what he spoke of when he spoke to Pirok... as well as, of course, the lair of the c̵͉͕̐h̷̺͂̔i̸̥̣̓̈́l̵̜̂d̷̪̭̾r̴̟̍ê̶̮̞̕n̶̫̘͠ ̸̗̏͌o̶͚͠f̵̪̤̓ ̵̡͐͆t̵̜̅͠ͅh̵̗͑̈́ë̷̹̒ ̷̘̰̂̚s̵̹̀t̴̠͇̀̍a̸̬͔̚ŗ̸̺̓s̴̫̓͆.̸̡̠̓ ...what? "I hate to say this, but it might be best to leave them be," he said, blinking away the lightness in his head. "To focus your attention on the living, not the dead." OOC: @a goose -Void
  14. IC: Dastana Daijuno & Zyla | Ga-Koro Zyla immediately opened her mouth to respond, already slipping back into her role as Daijuno's executive assistant; but Dai herself cut her off at the jump, turning to face the "journalists" -- if that was, in fact, what they were. She still recalled her own arrival to Ga-Koro, and the... experimentation that had occurred upon Vilda Soraph on the same day the Ryuu made dock, and she found herself keeping a close watch on those who might be interested in taking advantage of poor, disoriented refugees -- particularly now, when Rhow was out of commission, and ol' Sinsh/Hot was nowhere to be seen. Still, she extended a hand out to the lead newcomer; one has to, after all, keep up appearances on the off-chance that these weren't villains. Daijuno had, after all, seen Wokiya's byline on copies of the Daily before, but so had half the island. Karz, she could've started calling herself Wokiya and people might believe her. "I'm glad to hear that Ga-Koro is held in such high esteem," she said, keeping a pleasant tone to her voice. "Wokiya, you said, yes? Pleasure to meet you; I loved your in memoria for the Lavapool Inn in Ta-Koro. Made me long to have been there before the end! And I can't deny that I always look forward to your ongoing coverage of Reordin and Leah Maru's, er, time apart, shall we say. The hearts of demigods wander as much as our own, don't they!" Of course, only one of those stories had actually been written by Wokiya, who had always seemed to be a true journalist's-journalist from what Daijuno had ever read of her. If she was who she said she was, she'd probably deny ever touching the gossip column with a bio-long pole. If she wasn't, she might just panic and assume that she had missed one of her guise's bylines. "I'm rambling, though," she continued. "Daijuno, of Clan Dastana. What exactly are you interested in hearing?" OOC: @Emzee, let me know if I've taken too many liberties with Wokiya's bibliography, I'm happy to change anything there. -Void
  15. IC: Dastana Daijuno & Zyla | Ga-Koro Daijuno didn't exactly have confidence in this nobleman to not hurt Rhow in some way; Skakdi would be, after all, of even less value to a Menti than even a Saihoko, and she could easily imagine this man turning on either herself or Zyla. That the Commodore had given her implicit approval of him was the thin string of trust that held him in Daijuno's dubious regard; not that she trusted Ayiwah much more, either. So, the Willhammer hammered will, Daijuno made herself comfortable on a low crate and kept watch on the pair of them, trying to keep her dagger hidden from view. "Do you seem them?" Zyla said, sitting beside her. "Yes, yes, I've got them right in my sights." "Not them! There are some people coming down the docks. They don't look like sailors, do they? Nor soldiers, nor even merchants; not unless they're selling very small amounts of paper." "Tourists, maybe," Daijuno said, casually, taking another drag on her cigar. "Students, perhaps. Students here tend to learn out in the world much more than back home; not a Ward to be found, and the guardswomen keep all the training yards to themselves. What makes you bring them up?" "Well," Zyla responded, clearing her throat. "It's just that they seem to be watching our ships very intently. And the people too. And some of them-- well, actually, most of them seem to have paper and quills on them, which I suppose just made me a bit suspicious, since back home that usually meant inspections, and inspections were never any good, you recall." Daijuno sighed, realizing that this would bother Zyla for as long as she didn't have any answers -- Zyla was, after all, a woman who enjoyed systems and securities almost as much as Daijuno was a woman who enjoyed women -- she turned to look at whoever her assistant was talking about. Surely enough, there was a quartet of Matoran laden with paper and pen, who seemed to be keeping an oddly keen eye on the new arrivals to the island. And, while Daijuno couldn't rightly begrudge them their curiousity, neither could she begrudge Zyla her worries. "Like I said, probably just tourists," she said. "But worth keeping an eye on, you're right." OOC: @Vezok's Friend@Mel and @Emzee, it's Wokiya and co. that Zyla and Daijuno have spotted and are keeping an eye on, if any of them want to come over and chat! -Void
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