a goose

IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou)

"Good, very good..." Again, Montague's voice began to drift, their attention ebbing and flowing like the tides as they handed over Gorro's cup of tea. But contrary to what the Cy-Toa had observed previously, this drifting was not trance-like - not at all. In fact, the more attention he paid, the more it seemed that Montague's eyes were neither glassy nor unfocused, but staring quite intensely... staring, it appeared, just over Gorro's shoulder. But whatever terrible sight they saw - and it must have been either awesome or terrible, by the way the De-Matoran's eyes had grown so very wide - that sight was either far from here or deep, d̴̡̖̼̈́͠͠e̸͚̽̑̍͜ê̵̮p̷̧̬̃ͅ within their own mind.

Then Montague blinked, and they were back - odd, though, that they had inhaled so deeply, gasping as if coming up for air from whatever dark vision had gripped them. Was I... was I holding my breath? How very queer...

Their lucidity restored, Montague sat themselves down upon the edge of the bed and - taking a sip of tea - produced a journal from the bedside table, before turning their gaze once more to Gorro.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind, I would rather like to record your firsthand experience of the, ah, the dreams. Your name, perhaps, would be the place to start."

OOC: @Perp

IC: Muir (Po-Koro, Renaka's Home)

“Alright, but it’s not gonna take a Rode to see through that disguise.” Muir understood the value of secrecy - that said, Vrill’s voice had more gravel in it than the Po-Koro Quarry, and paralegals weren't exactly known for their habit of wearing cloaks and materialising their own sunglasses. “We’re here.”

Muir came to a stop at Akiri Renaka’s door, and knocked politely.

OOC: @Silvan Haven @Umbraline Yumiwa @Emzee

IC: Muir (Po-Koro)

Muir’s face turned thoughtful.

“Our tenures in the Guard overlapped. I didn’t know her well, but everyone knew her - she was popular, always had a way with people. Something of a mediator, from what I heard.” It had been some time now since Muir had thought about his days in the Guard, before the days of Hewkii and the Sentinels. “She’s as middle of the road as it’s possible to be. I wasn’t surprised to see she was Hewkii’s successor.

“Stannis, though… I’d say he probably knows her even less than I do, given his wanderings. Might be a priority for him to get to know his Akiri, now that he’s finally in town.”

2 hours ago, Ghosthands said:

IC (Syrik) [Echelon's Lair]

"I think you and I are the same, in a way."

IC: Aerus (Echelon's Lair)

Something twinkled in Aerus’ eyes, and a smirk gently began to tug at the corner of his lips. He had thought similarly, of course - another living servant of Echelon, used for the jobs that corpses couldn’t complete and underestimated at every turn. But-

But.

He still wanted to know where Syrik was going with this.

“Do tell.”

i realise i'm reviving this topic after a year, but it's still on the front page so making a new one to say that my spinny is still missing seemed kinda redundant

that said, my spinny is still missing

IC: Muir (Po-Koro)

"Makes sense you wouldn't be used to the light," Muir noted, as Vrill's shades grew in. Talk on the way to Stannis' address - Muir liked to keep appraised of such things, even though their erstwhile Toa Maru never seemed to be in town - was sparse, determination and the occasional barb sufficing to fill the air between the two men as they walked.

*********************

Muir wished he could have been surprised to find Stannis’ home empty. It seemed to be the default state of the place, so rarely was it occupied by the Po-Toa, but even in the desert hope could spring eternal - after all, it certainly would have been nice to have been spared the trouble of searching for him.

“Well, this is some shite.”

IC: Muir (Fenn Legal Clinic, Po-Koro)

“Just one thing.”

Muir unhooked the corkboard from the wall, and returned it to its spot behind his filing cabinets. After that, he stubbed out his own cigarette and left it to peeter out in the ashtray. Finally, he activated the magnetic tricks around his doors and windows that acted as intruder detection - and did so mentally, because partners or not, there was only so far he was inclined to trust Vrill. “Let’s go find ourselves a wanderer.”

OOC: i roam around around around around around around around-

OOC: Jam with @Light. Recommended listening.

IC: Ronan (Dark Walk)

Ronan showed no reaction to the voice in her ear - best not to offer any hint to their opponent, after all, and she had anticipated that they were headed in this direction from the moment he had appeared. Internally, she was still reaching out with her powers, searching for an ally in the darkness…

One revealed itself, behind the specter and along the wall, just waiting to be called to serve.

Still, Ronan's face gave away nothing. In her mind, however, she shifted gears, reaching into the iron walls for anything she could use to get the upper hand, or that might at least hint at the notebook's location.

The iron walls were thick but revealed little beyond the presence of a door close to where her potential ally was. Iron had no eyes, it could not see. Only feel.

And Ronan felt, felt the door and felt the iron around it - each door in this place, each entrance, had been rigged, and their enemy stood between it and them. Her mind flashed back to the flechette, how it had launched forward at the Vo-Toa - it could serve them all well to turn this place's traps and machinations to their advantage.

The wall behind the figure revealed no traps, nothing untoward. The one to Ronan's left, however, was far heavier, and whispered nothing of the caress of the earth against it--nor did it brace anything.

A mystery for another moment. Perhaps even for their escape plan, although she did wish for a moment that she had a Suletu - communicating its existence to the lieutenant, or even just that of the door, without giving up the element of surprise would have been ideal. Still, her efforts had at least uncovered a friend in the darkness.

And imperceptibly, that darkness shifted, as Ronan's newfound ally carefully - quietly - checked that it was unbound, and able to move freely.

Her new friend had some difficulty moving, at first--but it tore itself free from whatever had it against the wall, then shuffled forward.

On 11/15/2021 at 11:10 PM, Krayzikk said:

IC:

"Plag, this isn't right." The Sanctum Irregular's voice was low and firm, leeched of its irreverence. "The vines aren't real."

"Kehuri we need to know who in this room is real and where and we need to know right now." She snapped the instruction, any etiquette long in abeyance. "LT we need to shore up. Rall watch the door, and under no circumstances stay anywhere except behind me."

Skri’s words gave Ronan pause - she looked over the stranger for any metal she might use to verify his presence, but came up short, the Rahkshi staff not being viable. For now, she had to stick to the plan.

And so, slowly and as silent as the grave - helped in no small part by the dulled acoustics of the Dark Walk itself - her ally continued to move into position behind the stranger: close, but not too close, to get within reach for what it needed to do next without alerting him or its own allies to its approach. But to call it a new friend was, perhaps, inaccurate; after all, Ronan knew it well, no matter the shape that it took.

Her oldest friend, her most loyal companion, made its move while the element of surprise was still in its favour, sweeping the legs of the stranger from behind. Death, once again, had been kind to her.

But she had never been known to rely on Death alone. From the thick iron wall, a long strip tore free, and shot out into the unknown behind it - shot out at just the right height to behead anyone of Toa height who might be lurking there. Her ally, after all, had torn free from something on that wall - who was to say it wasn’t a Rahkshi staff?

41 minutes ago, Keeper of Kraata said:

IC: Zueya - Dark Walk Hideout

"Skorm, his eyes! I think he's infected! Gukko cage maneuver!"

Well, at least I got in an actual surprise attack first.

OOC: @ dark walk crew

IC: Muir (Fenn Legal Clinic, Po-Koro)

Muir nodded, his suspicions confirmed:

This most definitely was not just about the Kalta. As expected, Vrill had a bigger target in mind.

“I agree, which is a good reason to delay that particular line of inquiry. Especially when we’ve already got leads.” Muir tapped the scrap of paper that read Po-Koro Hospital. “This is the obvious place to start. Close to home, and not likely to immediately ruffle feathers. I’d say Ta-Koro would be our next stop; the Guard has a long memory, and this Magmatide Inn business bears investigation. But on the other hand…”

Muir’s finger moved to Stannis’ name. “Rumour has it he’s in town. He’s high profile, and high risk, but he is known to... wander. Might be difficult to track him down later, especially if we’ve lost the element of surprise.”

IC: Muir (Fenn Legal Clinic, Po-Koro)

“I’m all too aware of his policies. I’ve been following the news out of Ko pretty closely; a lot of it’s been sounding very familiar.” Muir’s soft voice remained steady, but the undercurrent of anger was unmissable. With the pieces laid out on the corkboard, he returned to his desk, grabbing a pile of red string.

“I don’t like how we’ve been dancing to and fro with the brink of war,” Muir announced, joining the dots. “I don’t like how we ousted one militaristic Akiri, and another popped up in his place a few Koros over. And I don’t like how your description of him consists only of publicly available information.”

Extremism, it seemed, was on the rise; and whereas with Hewkii, it had at least been rejected by most, Ko-Koro now embraced it willingly. But Muir had seen where that path had led his own Koro - seeing history begin to repeat was deeply concerning, especially when it brought the same spook to his door.

IC: Muir (Fenn Legal Clinic, Po-Koro)

Muir's hand emerged holding a corkboard, which he hung on the wall. Behind him, scraps of paper floated out of his desk drawer, suspended by the same pins that then embedded them on the board. Along with them came a metal stylus and inkpot, the latter of which set itself down atop the filing cabinet as Muir retrieved the pen and began to write each of the names Vrill had recited, along with others - Stannis, Warua, Antidermis - and the six Koro, arranged around a single word at the centre:

"So, tell me about this new Akiri of yours."

IC: Muir (Fenn Legal Clinic, Po-Koro)

Muir spread the tablets out across his desk, lens mechanisms whirring as he scanned through them. As he did so, his desk drawer appeared to open by itself, metal handle pulled by the phantom hand of magnetism. Muir nodded, seemingly to himself, then got to his feet.

"What do we know about the rest of the team?" he asked, his back to Vrill as he began to reach behind his filing cabinets.

IC: Muir (Fenn Legal Clinic, Po-Koro)

Muir gladly accepted the offered cigarette, holding it to his lips with his left hand and leaning forward to catch the lighter. He took a long drag, allowing the tension to sink out of his shoulders.

"Partners, then." The words hung in the air between them, lingering in the long rays of light that reached out from the blinds, caught and exposed now by the haze of smoke. As Muir watched the wisps of cancer dance through the beams, he noticed that the rest of the office seemed darker somehow, as if the smoke had confined all the room's light to those concentrated rays, casting Vrill's face into shadow. Muir realised that his own must have been, too - but his outstretched hand could not escape the spotlight.

IC: Muir (Fenn Legal Clinic, Po-Koro)

Muir looked down at Vrill’s outstretched hand, his face pensive. Well, #####.

“...I’d say that’s a goddamned good reason. But if I’m gonna work with you, you can at least bum me a smoke.”

IC: Aerus (Echelon's Lair)

Aerus’ first response was to process. His ears were still ringing, which gave him a moment in which to sort through what he had just witnessed - trauma, certainly, but more than anything else… instability? He recalled how he first thought of Echelon as a madman, and he certainly was by the end, but for most of the time Aerus had known him he was in control of himself. This new Toa, this Syrik, was a smokescreen; the calm and control, the mannerisms inherited… inherited directly, Aerus noted, recalling the lazy flick of the wrist with which he had exercised his elemental magnetism.

How appropriate that he should wear a Mahiki, Aerus thought. Beneath his illusion, there is only madness.

Which made him even more dangerous than Aerus had at first suspected.

“...I take it he got more than he bargained for.” Aerus’ voice was steady, and almost accusatory - too much certainty to be questioning. “He was a creature of habit, after all. When he found something that worked, he used it until its usefulness ceased. So either he accomplished what he had you set out to do, or - and I think, more likely - he learned a lesson. He had two living tools in my time with him, and only I was independent, while his Toa was kept on a tight leash.”

IC: Muir (Fenn Legal Clinic, Po-Koro)

Now things were heating up.

Skorm's was a name Muir knew not at all, and Stannis' one he trusted even less. The alleged protector of Po-Koro had done nothing while Hewkii brought the island to the brink of war, and now even his defeat of Makuta was called into question. Vrill knew this already, of course - Muir knew himself well enough to recognise that he was predictable, and Stannis had so utterly failed the Matoran that Muir's dislike of him was all but guaranteed.

"As a matter of fact, I would not. But I'm getting the feeling you didn't just come to me because I'm good with paperwork."

IC: Muir (Fenn Legal Clinic, Po-Koro)

The unasked question did not go unanswered.

“You can pour your own coffee.” The lenses on Muir’s mask shifted, taking in the subtleties of the Cy-Toa’s posture and body language; he doubted Vrill was as bored as he seemed, but he wasn’t keeping the door in his sightline, which meant he wasn’t excited either. Muir, all told, was fine with that - Vrill was bringing trouble to his door, that went without saying, but at least trouble had given him a head start. “And you should know I haven’t been in with the Sentinels for some time now.”

3 hours ago, BULiK said:

IC: Vrill [Po-Koro, ???]

The door opened with a jingle that indicated the arrival of a potential customer. Vrill, the crystalline outer layers of his armor now the amber hue of citrine quartz, looked around the humble legal office, taking in the new arrangement of furnishings.

OOC: @Goose honk.

IC: Muir (Fenn Legal Clinic, Po-Koro)

A bad day at the Fenn Legal Clinic seemed set to get a whole helluvalot worse. Muirtagh Fenn would have given just about anything at that moment to be up to his eyes in legal papers - at least if they were up to his eyes, he wouldn’t have to be looking at the man who had just walked into his office.

There were, however, no documents in sight; those that were there were tucked neatly into the filing cabinets behind Muir, one of the few items of furniture the Cy-Toa was likely to recognise. And there was the rub, because Muir saw the look in the spook’s eyes - as if he needed to, when men like that so rarely came for social calls - and knew that he had come with work. And looking around his sparse office, half the furniture sold and his secretary laid off just to keep the place from falling out from under him, he knew he couldn’t turn the sonuvabitch down.

But that sure as shite didn’t mean Muir had to be nice to him.

“You better have a goddamned good reason for being here, Vrill.”

IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou)

“Ah, a sweet tooth! One spoonful or two?”

OOC: @Perp

On 11/10/2021 at 11:17 PM, Haman Karn: A Magical Girl said:

The door cracked a peep, and a baleful golden eye stared out at Kira from the abyss.

"Hello?"

-Tyler

IC: Kira (Nixie’s Hut)

“Uh, hi, er, hello, Ms Nixie, ma’am, I just wanted to- I mean- I’m a really big fan, that’s not why I’m here, I mean, I’ve got actual- I’ve got questions about the stars.” Kira removed her backpack and unlatched it, revealing scrolls of parchment inside. “If I could come in, I- I’ve been charting things for some time now, and… it all just doesn’t make sense.”

IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou)

“Cure it? Heavens, why would y-” Montague was cut short by a recollection: their own goals of putting the dreams to rest. Why, they wondered, had they reacted like this? Their impulse, their gut reaction, was that the very notion of curing this dream-sickness was preposterous. They shook their head; it was likely nothing more than their own desire for scientific discovery - to cure the dreams before understanding their cause would be a terrible waste. When they spoke again, they sounded confused, dazed: “I- that is to say- pardon me, I haven’t been sleeping well of late. But then, I suppose you know that already...”

The whistling kettle brought Montague back to attention, as if snapping them out of a trance, and they returned to it, busying themselves with the filling of their teapot and the gathering of mugs. “Say, sir, how do you take your tea?”

OOC: @Perp

OOC: throwing my first ever content warning on a post i guess, but like. if descriptions of sh mess you up, unknown reader, this mightn't be for you

IC: Learu (Dragon Nest)

Aru’s tears had dried by the time she arrived back at the nest - as had the molten rock, now cooled to a gnarled, twisted shadow of what the cliff face had been before. Again, the image came unbidden - white armour scorched black melted eye bloodshot broken buried under skin and bone and metal and cheeks running into mouth running into teeth muscle and viscera black and burned and bloody and

CRASH

The stool shattered against the wall, shards of ice skittering across the floor. Heavy breaths, in and out of her mouth, and she felt real again, the sensation of lifting and throwing and smashing grounding her. It felt… it felt good.

She didn’t notice she was bleeding until the kitchen was spread across the floor and the walls. She didn’t know what she’d cut herself on - broken ice, or a knife, or a plate, or any number of things, but her hand was red and dripping onto the icy floor and smeared on her father’s chin as he looked at her and Xar and he looked hungry and

The cry was soft, and sharp, almost as sharp as the pain that jolted through her hand, up her arm, her spine, her skull - it didn’t even sound like her, not really, but she was alone and she felt it rise through her dry throat, so she knew the voice had to be hers. The pain, too, was grounding - her clawed thumb was still deep in the wound, but the initial sensation had subsided. It didn’t feel good, not like the trail of destruction she’d left through the cave, but it at least felt real. She at least felt real.

Once the latest round of tears had subsided, she cleaned and bandaged her hand. She looked around - the cave was a disaster zone. By the time Aclaraung got back, he might think she and Xar had brought their argument back here to settle it physically, especially with the bloodstain on the floor. Aru felt her face flush with guilt and embarrassment and pushed it down - she couldn’t bring herself to look at all of it long enough to clean it. Even when she looked away, she saw the Once-a-Balcony, and felt her fist clench in annoyance as Xar’s questions forced their way back into her skull. She shook her head, and took a deep breath; she couldn’t stay here, not alone. Not surrounded by… all of this. A familiar pain crept into her chest, one that she’d known often since she’d awoken - the pain of knowing that the one person who might understand what she was going through was here, but still out of her reach, an ache that she’d grown all-too-accustomed to while staring at Xar’s blurred and distorted form behind the ice. At least now he was awake, although she had no way of knowing where he’d gone.

Or… maybe she didn’t know where he was now - but she did know where he would be.

Aru didn’t look back as she flew away from the nest, leaving the chaos and disarray of the morning behind her.

OOC: Learu to Onu-Wahi.

IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou)

“The advertisement?” The kettle began to bubble as Montague turned their back to it, focusing the entirety of their attention on the Cy-Toa. “The… the dreams? I knew- or I thought, but in that way that you think something and you simply know it to be true, that is to say, that I had no doubt that others were sharing my very same experience. And here you are!”

Montague was grinning from ear to ear, delighted beyond words that the expedition was already off to such a strong start. Mere days into their stay in Onu-Koro, and already they had a caller! They could hardly imagine a better omen for the task ahead.

OOC: @Perp

IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou)

Dearest sister,

I fear this letter may never reach you, but I write it all the same, feeling as I do that it is my duty to chronicle this ill-fated expedition. Perhaps someone will find it, and it will bring you some peace - or perhaps, it will simply act as a warning, to you and to the reader, whoever they may be:

Do not follow me. I urge you - nay, I beg you, please, do not follow me. There are places where Matoran were never meant to tread, sights meant to stay unseen - I pray that Mata Nui will have mercy on my soul, but the things I know now have surely dammed me. Do not search for me. Do not search for my fellows. We are lost, and we must stay that way, because you were right, sister, right about everything and so much more than you will ever know. I should never have plumbed these depths. I should have listened to you, I should have let dead gods lie, but oh, Rhodes, the things I have seen…

I never knew that death could be so seductive, so mesmerising. Even now, a part of me Ḩ̶̢͇̣̪̺̫̜̳͇̭̘̰̫͚̬͖̘͆̓̓͌̊̾̍̃̇̿̐̔̎̔̌̊͆̽͗̐̀͋̚͜͝͝U̴̡̡̨͕̯̝͚͚̦̦̰̠̬̻̘̞͉̼̺̬͙̟̣̲̬͒̽͛̈́̈͋̏͒̀͜ͅN̴̢̢̢̛̰̳̭̥̟͇͑͗͋͑̈́̊͂͛̀͂͐̾̈́̏͑̏͊͑͌̈́͊̈̚̕͝Ģ̸͎̣̺̞͚̹̰̗̞̪̤̳̭̭̖̰͇̳̱̞̗̗̹̯̞̦̜͌̒̋̓̆̓́͐̅̎̾͜Ę̴̢͖̙̦̼͎̟͚͍̙̗̱͔͖̰͉̖̫̺̹̤̰̣́̃̓̋̑̾̓̈́̿̓̂͊͂͗͑̔͘͠Ȑ̷͎͉̞̲̞̋̈́ͅS̸͓̗͌̈̃̄̓̂̀̎̊͒͘͝ for oblivion with a lust the likes of which I have never known. But time is short, and if I am to recount it all, I must now return to the beginning:

It had not been long since I had posted my letter, and my advertisement, when suddenly I heard a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door…

Montague approached the door with a kind of nervous glee - could it be, truly, could it be the first respondent? They had been s̶͉͆̅t̶̠̝̎à̸̗̥̈́r̶̟̾̿v̵̰͒̈́è̸̝͍̈́d̶͈̪̕ of interaction these past few months, and were eager to speak to a like-minded soul, even aside from the excitement of the expedition ahead.

The door opened, revealing the Cy-Toa behind it - neither the interim owner he had spoken to below, nor the woman he had indicated once managed the Fikou, and thus almost certainly not staff. This is it! My god, this it it!

“Greetings! Please, I bid you, enter - take a seat - say, would you like a cup of tea? I was just about to put the kettle on, and a brew is always better shared! Please, come in, take a seat!”

The Matoran had an odd kind of hyperactive energy, as of someone both anxious and ecstatic at the same time, and their words met no resistance on the journey from brain to mouth, an unfiltered train of thought that seemed only barely restrained to the rails.

OOC: @Perp

IC: Ronan (Dark Walk)

The mission was off from the start. It was plain to see - an incompetent Akiri sending Matoran to their deaths, for a goal that might have justified sending a team into the Dark Walk before the Makuta had returned, but was now a blatant smokescreen by her secretive C.O.’s. But the recklessness of Ko-Koro’s new commander was beyond her control, and in her time at Ihu she had come to - tentatively - trust that when the Highlanders took action, they did so for a reason.

But a new apprehension had taken root in Ronan from the moment she caught sight of those branches overhead, nourished by each new detail that failed to add up - the plantlife beneath the slab, the blood, the broken Pakari - until it grew into a clear understanding: she had drastically underestimated just how off this mission was. And now, here they were, face to face with a foe that in the best-case scenario was Senemos himself, left for dead by a Bo-Toa who never learned to double-tap, but just as likely was some new threat. Death had not been behind them, nor was it waiting for them - Death had been here before they had taken even a step into these forsaken caverns. Death had, Ronan suspected, already taken the Bo-Toa who came before them, and Death had likely taken the Matoran who had once worn that mask.

Slowly, warily, Ronan rose to her feet; her sword was already unsheathed, having appeared in her hand in the blink of an eye the moment Skrihen’s staff flew past her. A sudden move, at this point, would be a grievous error - whatever madness possessed the being in front of them, he had still chosen to offer them an escape. Even if he was lying, it would serve him well to maintain that lie at least a few moments longer.

“I take it the Bo-Toa who came before us did not accept that offer.” She had noticed the thorns and wood that protruded from their new acquaintance, clear signs of a struggle with their anonymous source. But even as she addressed the shadowy figure, Ronan's eyes, and her element, remained focused on the blood that stained the floor, following it even more closely than before - their opponent had bled heavily, but that did not mean that the blood was all his, and there were two potential allies still undiscovered in their surroundings.