a goose

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) The Sanctum. For once, it was Vrill that was best equipped to get to something. Still, with any luck, further documentation mightn't be necessary. "Thank you, Priicu. These should be a great help. Do you mind if I study them in the back room where Syzygos is working?"

IC: Caana (Hanaloi, Forest) Caana lowered her hands now, and respectfully bowed her head. She was confident that the worst of the danger was past – and almost certain that the ash bear was an illusion, now that the facade had been dropped. Things were unlikely to come to blows now, but if they did, her tonfa were the answer, if she was to get close enough to this Hambra to render her staff useless. Moreover, if she told the truth, she was alone, her only surviving clansmen attending to the Mashtet. Her tale of surviving Mashtet, however, left Caana more curious than anything; her face turned thoughtful, and she neither tensed nor relaxed. Their agenda was unknown, but the disappearance of their clan would be deeply personal to them – perhaps enough so that they might share Caana's goal. "From what I have heard of this island and its legends, you may not have been alone regardless." Her initial sense of the island's loneliness, while not entirely dissipated, had been slowly overcome by the distinct feeling of being watched. Caana did not tend to indulge such flights of fancy, but Hanaloi was an unusual place; its myths of ghosts and lost scouting parties had been well-earned. "This expedition – its goal is to purge the Rahkshi?" OOC: @Keeper of Kraata

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) The Matoran's relief was palpable, and Muir couldn't help but smile. "Thank you. I'm interested in accounts of the Po-Koro Comet plague, and studies on Infection. And also…" Muir paused, grimacing. If the Madness was close to home for him, he could only imagine how his next question might unsettle a Ko-Koronan. "And also, anything you have on the occupation of Ko-Koro." OOC: @ARROW404

IC: Nikarra (The Iron Mahi) "I would follow you, if you would let me." Nikarra's first instinct was to activate her Iden and let the conversation speed away down the tracks without her. She could probably possess a new body – it wasn't unheard of. Change her name, become a hermit, never have to make any consequential decisions again. She didn't even have her knives anymore, so it wasn't like she had a reason to keep these thighs. Why the fuсk am I so freaked out? It wasn't Vy, probably. Nikarra had felt bad leaving her, even when it was only to distance herself from the Daedra. She liked Vy. Like, a lot. It wasn't like she had much else going on in her life, either, since her best and only friend went off and died, like an idiot. If Vy… It meant she didn't have to be alone, which was a Good Thing. It was good. Healthy, even. Definitely not something to be panicked by. It was probably some weird grief stuff, right? Like- like how people who lose someone important, they push people away, so that they won't get hurt again. But it didn't feel like that. She wasn't scared of losing Vy, she was just… scared. Vy was still waiting on an answer, and Nikarra didn't know how much time she'd already spent thinking in silence. She had to make a choice. "Okay," she whispered, nodding. "But you should know… I have no idea where I'm going." As she looked up to meet Vyartha's eyes, she couldn't help but smile. OOC: @Void Emissary

IC: Caana (Hanaloi, Forest) .:Look at my back. I do not fear the Rahkshi, and if I meet my death here, I will accept my fate. I would walk alone into the Mashtet compound if necessary, but I see no reason to do so – not when an alliance is possible.:. Caana had not encountered a shape-changer before. It was a curious skill, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was simply an illusion – a well-crafted lie, but a lie nonetheless. With the move to a more aggressive posture, she couldn't afford to make either assumption. .:I will not insult you by arguing that the Mashtet are already gone, nor by arguing that the Rahkshi have broken your vow for you by violating the Mashtet's home. I understand the importance of your honour, if you understand that I will not be swayed from my purpose. I would, however, argue that outsiders walk this island already. They profane the places your clan holds sacred; they have no interest in co-operation, and if there is common purpose to be found, they do not care to find it. They are beasts, capable only of destruction.:. .:Let me repeat that I say this not to dishonour you; I say this because an outsider who would work with you deserves, under these circumstances, an audience. I will not force you to make this decision alone, and if I must meet your leaders or your clansmen as a prisoner, I shall willingly surrender myself to you. The choice is yours.:. OOC: @Keeper of Kraata

IC: Aerus (Echelon's Lair) Aerus nodded. If it’s any consolation. It was an odd way for Syrik to put it, but it rang true – Aerus supposed he had, in some strange way, become attached to this place. It had, in effect, been his home ever since he left Ga-Koro all those years ago. “Merror came pretty close to finding it. If he and his allies think to make another sweep, I don’t see them missing it – if not for the occupation of Ko-Koro, and then Echelon’s death, I have little doubt that they’d have made it here already.” Merror. Aerus wondered if he was even alive; there had been no word of him since before Echelon’s defeat. Despite himself, he hoped the Ta-Toa was okay – sucker though he may have been, he’d shown Aerus a level of trust and kindness that the Matoran had very rarely experienced. But Merror’s persistence was another reason it would be wise to move on. “I’ve had a… contingency in place here, for some time now, working off of the assumption that this base couldn’t stay secret forever. Depending on where we’re relocating to, it may be worth finding some way to activate it, or else it's possible I might have some difficulty staying anonymous.” OOC: @Ghosthands

IC: Aerus (Echelon's Lair) "So we keep this exchange as brief as possible," Aerus said, as he slipped into sync with Syrik's pace. "Gives them less time to notice or realise something they shouldn't, and less time to do anything stupid because they think they're backed into a corner." Stupid. He had allowed himself to get carried away, too focused on the rational choices available to their visitors, forgetting that normal people are fundamentally irrational creatures. A Rahi would chew off its own leg to escape a trap, and then bleed out right next to it; the average Matoran was no different. Expecting them to think as logically as he would, especially when afraid, was a miscalculation. "Alright, I follow." OOC: @Ghosthands

IC: Aerus (Echelon's Lair) Aerus began to follow, his cane clacking quicker against the floor as he tried to catch up. "I thought I had. They leave, they remember this place – maybe they die in the snow, maybe they had enough of a scare that they don't come back looking for us. Or maybe they get talkative; Echelon's enemies already know he was based somewhere in the Drifts. On the other hand, if they die, they're far from any road; that scholar would have to be pretty valuable to send anyone looking for him, which seems unlikely, since he's an idiot. The one with the head injury seems to have the most wits about her. If anyone even knows they're out here, they're just a few more Matoran lost to the ice. So what am I missing?" OOC: @Ghosthands

IC: Aerus (Echelon's Lair) Aerus stopped in his tracks, his confusion threatening to trip him over. "So we're letting them go?" It was too simple. Too risky. Which meant that Syrik had noticed something he hadn't. "...What's your angle?" OOC: @Ghosthands

IC: Aerus (Echelon's Lair) "Which is why I then tried to reassure them," Aerus hissed. "I thought I was following your lead. I agree that they're telling most of the truth, but they are still hiding why they're out here. If they're searching for something – an archaeological find, treasure, what-have-you – odds are good they won't be the last group of explorers traipsing around within falling distance of here. Wouldn't you like to know whether the isolation of this place has been compromised?" OOC: @Ghosthands

IC: Caana (Hanaloi, Jungle) Caana's hands were at her hips the moment she heard the landing behind her, already grasping the handles of her tonfa. She turned slowly – eyes, then head, then body – and then raised her hands in compliance, her weapons still holstered. The act served multiple purposes – allowing her to show that she meant no harm, while also bringing her hands closer to the weapon better suited to the potential confrontation. Better to make use of the staff's greater reach; getting too close to an ash bear was ill-advised. Still, there was no sign as yet that her precaution would be necessary. Whoever this person was, they had chosen to intimidate her, not to attack – which suggested that they, too, did not want this encounter to turn violent. .:My name is Caana, and I suspect that I am here for the very reasons you seek to warn me away. There are strange forces at work on Hanaloi – I wish to understand them, and to stop them if necessary. Are we at cross purposes?:. OOC: @Keeper of Kraata

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) Vrill was thinking. Muir could see him, trying to move one step ahead – smart, tactical, and shortsighted. But then, that was the benefit of working with a partner; let Vrill keep his eyes ahead. It meant Muir could focus all the more on the present. "Priicu," he said, softly. "If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to ask something else of you – this time, in your capacity as a librarian. I have some topics I'd like to research." OOC: @ARROW404

yes edit: but posting and editing are working properly again

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IC: The ocean waves were gentle, washing over the shore with the comforting touch of a trusted confidant, smoothing over its secrets and its scars – the long gash, cut by a rowboat dragged along the shore, the bruises left by the single set of footprints that accompanied it, all to be wiped clean inch by inch. The sand would be healed, the only evidence left the rowboat itself, now veiled by foliage. Hanaloi did not feel haunted; it felt lonely, deeply and irreparably. To the woman clad in silver scales, these seemed mutually exclusive – at least if the island truly was crowded with all the ghosts of Clan Mashtet. It would not occur to her until much later that death is a lonely thing, and it is lonelier still to be left behind, unable to reach out to another, unable to leave, never again to touch or be touched. Ghosts, then, must have been very lonely indeed. Caana had stayed clear of the Rahkshi, when at all possible. They were formidable beasts, as she had learned for herself when clashing against them, and they seemed almost to patrol the jungle. It seemed best not to interrupt them. She wondered how much of their intelligence was their own – when fighting them, she had taken notice of a certain predatory shrewdness, but their application of overt tactics seemed inconsistent. It could of course simply be that some were smarter than others, but they were also quite clearly acting under orders. So which thoughts and plans were their own, and which were merely dictated to them? A question for another time, perhaps. For now, Caana's immediate goal was clear: to reach the ghost-village of the Mashtet, and learn what she could from the site of Hanaloi's most famous mystery. OOC: @Keeper of Kraata

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) Muir followed in silence, carefully considering his next moves. He was unsurprised to hear that Vrill wanted him to do the talking, and more than a little relieved, given that this was a situation that could quite easily spiral into illegality. Vrill might have carte blanche in how he conducted his investigation, but Muir was a lawyer, and a representative of Po-Koro. The last thing his hometown needed was any further stain upon its name. But the question that occupied Muir's mind was a tad simpler: what would he do, while they waited for Cyrix? He resolved to speak to Priicu himself, once the Matoran had answered Vrill's latest request. They were in a library, after all; it only made sense to make the most of it.

IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou) Montague's eyes were alight. They wrote frantically as Savis spoke, and the scratching of their fevered pen all but overwhelmed the sound of the Lesterin's voice, so great was their excitement. Montague, as ever, seemed entirely oblivious to the room at large, and it was quite readily apparent that their mind was hard at work. They approached the quandary with a certain delight, as one might a particularly tricky crossword puzzle, as if solving it is to be in conversation with its maker, each unexpected twist an in-joke delivered by a beloved friend. "Say, Gorro – I understand, of course, that it is a question of rather a personal nature, but I do believe that we may have stumbled upon a connecting factor. I- naturally, of course, I should not get too ahead of myself, but I do wonder… Have you, too, experienced some traumatic event in relation to water?" OOC: @Perp @Nato G

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) Muir looked to Vrill. The ball was in his court, now, and the lawyer was curious as to what his partner's play would be.

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) Muir nodded sympathetically, thinking of his retirement from the Sentinels. "I understand entirely. However, I think you may have misunderstood me – valuing honour is not what makes a person honourable. You say you're simple, but even now, you think of the needs of your Koro. You could have accepted that bribe, or feigned ignorance entirely in order to capitalise upon Syzygos' business proposals. You could have told us nothing upon our arrival. You chose the truth because it ends less messily, but there aren't many who would see it that way, seeking instead to profit or to keep their heads in the sand. This is what you call simplicity – to have a job, and do it well; to tell the truth, rather than take advantage; to think both of yourself, and of your village." Muir's deep blue eyes carried an intensity now, the same intensity that had assessed Stannis and found him wanting. It was Muir at his truest, taking the clues he had gathered and solving a soul. "You call that simplicity, and I call it honour. I call it Truth. What worth is complexity, when it's the very thing that keeps us from being honest to others and true to ourselves?" Muir glanced over at Vrill, much as Priicu had done, and spoke in a softer tone. "I will not judge you, should you decide that you would rather have no part of this. Nor will I rescind my offer of legal help, should you ever need it. As for your 'use', that's a question best answered by my partner, who has told me little of his first encounter with you. As you've likely gathered, the traditional Ko-Koronan brevity runs deep in him." OOC: @ARROW404 @BULiK

where's the downvote button on this bloody site

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) Muir smiled admiringly. "On the matter of Truth, I can very much assure you that we are in agreement." Muir looked to Vrill, and then reached into his coat again, this time producing the stone badge that he had been granted by Akiri Renaka. "You seem an honourable sort, Priicu, and have twice now chosen to stand steadfast in the face of those more powerful than you – something that I greatly respect. Our mission is one around which we would like to maintain some secrecy, for reasons you are already deducing, but I find myself inclined to trust you." He held out the palm-sized tablet to the Matoran, showing him in turn the seal of Po-Koro emblazoned upon it, and Akiri Renaka's description of the task she had assigned him: to investigate the crimes of Skorm, of the Toa Kalta. "You can investigate the badge more closely if you wish, but it will hold up to scrutiny. As for being found in conspiracy, that was part of the reason for my offer of legal aid – you are not at fault for any of the events that you have found yourself caught up in, and have only done what you felt was right. You need only ask, and I will do all that I can to protect you from harm, as a lawyer and as a Toa." For a moment, Muir seemed more like an overgrown Matoran than a Toa, an impression created as much by his short stature as it was by his earnestness. It occurred to the lawyer that in some ways, Priicu reminded him of himself; interesting that Vrill, duplicitous as he was, would so often find himself drawn to those few brave souls who valued honesty above all else. Not for the first time, Muir wondered if his partner was perhaps more principled than he wished others to believe. OOC: @ARROW404