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Void Emissary

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Everything posted by Void Emissary

  1. IC: Plagia | Within the Dark Walk Hideout So I moved. Rahkshi were battering rams -- take away their powers and they still had the strength of three fighters, all without the fallibility of bone and muscle. This one was stumbling, off-balance, which was where it needed to stay 'till the rest of the party could get out of here. (You're part of this party too, Plag.) The sheathe at my side was smoking, the bamboo blackening as I dragged my sword out, burning from the lightning dancing across the blade too fast and too forceful for safety's sake. My brain was on fire, too, gears grinding themselves into dust to re-orient myself; but my body moved, legs pumping, muscles tensing. My shoulder was a spear aimed for where the Rahkshi's solar plexus should've been, almost every bit of my momentum turned to body-checking this ###### away from the door, clearing a path. The last little bit of momentum, a final synapse firing in my brain post-fog, was to bring my arm up and my electrified sword into where this Rahkshi kept its ###### brain. "YOU HEARD HIM!" was what I think I screamed, but it was hard to know for sure. "###### MOVE!" Hard to know who I was screaming at, either. OOC: @Light -Void
  2. 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
  3. 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
  4. 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
  5. 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
  6. 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
  7. 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
  8. 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
  9. 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
  10. 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
  11. 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
  12. 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
  13. 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
  14. 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
  15. 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
  16. 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
  17. 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
  18. 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
  19. 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
  20. 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
  21. 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
  22. 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
  23. 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
  24. 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
  25. 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
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