a goose

IC: Nikarra (Same Cargo Car, Same Cargo Time) Nikarra knew a heist when she saw one; she'd been involved in one or two, after all. Well, one and a half. Planning was half a heist, right? Regardless, it was pretty clear the guys in the crate were up to no good, and she'd already heard them mention a 'target'. That ruled out simple terrorism, especially since they weren't exactly the most well-armed. They could still be bounty hunters, but they were searching the cargo area, not the passenger cars – that meant thieves. And she had a pretty good idea of what they were trying to steal. IC: Nikarra (Second Passenger Car) "Vy!" OOC: @Void Emissary @BULiK @~Xemnas~

IC: Skrall (The Caravan) Skrall cast his eyes over to the prisoner, awaiting his response with no small amount of curiosity. IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) She was preparing a witty retort when she noticed the arrival of the Skrall slave – not exactly something she had expected to see. She looked back to Taldrix. "You guys conquer the North while I wasn't looking?" OOC: @skrall, @Toru Nui @Mel (sorry for the wait, been a busy couple weeks)

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Long Road to Ferrum) "Don't Ferrumites warn their kids about Iron Canyon?" Tueris shook his head. "No vehicles; we're moving on foot. The canyon gets pretty tight, and – more importantly – we can't risk the vibrations." OOC: @~Xemnas~ @Burnmad @oncertainty @Nato G

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Long Road to Ferrum) "Raanu does not consider the Bone Hunters a reliable source. Nor do I. And there's plenty else to fear in Iron Canyon." OOC: @oncertainty @Burnmad @Nato G @~Xemnas~

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Long Road to Ferrum) "I presume we all have some manner of face coverings for sandstorms; if it's in the air, those should hopefully be sufficient. Try to avoid touching anything in the village, and do not drink their water – my pack has enough supplies to get us there and back. And if worst comes to worst…" Tueris reached into his pack, and removed the strange headset. "I will be wearing this when we enter the village. It's some new Celtech gizmo, like an audiovisual telegram. It sees what I see, and sends it back to Raanu." The way he said 'audiovisual' made it quite clear that the wording was not his own; frankly, the specifics of the device were lost on him, but Raanu seemed confident that it would work. "If we can't report back, it will report back for us." OOC: @Nato G @~Xemnas~ @oncertainty @Burnmad

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Long Road to Ferrum) Tueris looked upon the company with something akin to disappointment; some were younger than others, but all could have had many years ahead of them. Still, he could not accomplish this alone. The die was cast. "Hmph. Very well then – I'll tell you what little we know, so that you are, at least, prepared." His good eye narrowed. "Ferrum has been out of contact for just over two weeks. In that time, rumours have begun to spread, all of them unsubstantiated; however, information from the Bone Hunters suggests that a plague may have descended upon the village. We know neither the symptoms nor the means of transmission, only that the population has – allegedly – been decimated. Somnii is believed dead. "This is not an aid mission; our purpose is reconnaissance. We are scouts. It is our job to learn the truth of what has transpired in Ferrum, and if there truly is a plague, to identify how much of a threat it poses to the rest of the Wastelands. "Unsurprisingly, this is a time-sensitive task. For that reason, we are travelling directly through Iron Canyon. The journey will take a day and a night, accounting for a rest to avoid the height of the day. We are leaving before dawn in order to make a stop in Precipere; with any luck, the people of the Ash Tribe may already know what has become of their neighbours. At the very least, they are likely to know more than we do. "Are there any questions before we depart?" OOC: @Nato G @Burnmad @~Xemnas~ @oncertainty

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Long Road to Ferrum) As Tueris rose to his feet, both his eyes were open at last: one glowed a fiery orange, but the other – the scarred one – was dull, clearly blind and with no prosthetic in its place. "If you're coming – and I say this to all of you – then you should not expect to return. That is the nature of our task, and if that makes you uncomfortable, then you may leave now. You will not be judged." OOC: @Nato G @Burnmad @oncertainty @~Xemnas~

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Long Road to Ferrum) "Are you prepared to die?" One eye was cracked open, now; in the dim red light of the approaching dawn, it was becoming clear that the other was scarred. OOC: @Nato G @Burnmad @oncertainty @~Xemnas~

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Long Road to Ferrum) "No Agori." The gruff voice that came from the sleeping Fire Glatorian was a surprise to all, not least because his eyes were still closed. "The call was for warriors. You're not a warrior." OOC: Apologies for the wait, @Nato G @oncertainty @~Xemnas~ @Burnmad

IC: Skrall (Roxtus Stables) "Not his weapons, his-" Skrall cringed as the female pinned their traitorous brother to the floor. "Dignity. When possible, I like to avoid pissing off prisoners; call it pragmatism." OOC: @Nato G (I'll have a Vulcanus reply up for other folks soon)

IC: Skrall (Roxtus Stables) Skrall looked at their female compatriot with a mix of surprise and admiration. She was highly capable, then – seemingly far moreso than the others. Then, his train of thought was interrupted. "I request… clarification." Skrall stayed silent as Skrall spoke, waiting for the question; when it came, he was surprised for a second time in as many minutes. "Did Tirveus instruct you differently?" "No. My orders are exactly the same as yours. I'm just a little more aware of Skrall fallibility." OOC: @Nato G and Skrall

OOC: Please experience with the recommended vibes. IC: Caana (Mashtet Fortress) Caana stood, solitary, atop the ramparts. The view offered her the ideal perspective for archery, and this was the justification she would have offered to any who questioned her. In truth, though, she was there to watch the fire rise. To watch her fire rise. Oh, Vazaria could contest her claim, and Caana would allow it; after all, she knew the truth, and she had no appetite for glory. But the vulture had been directionless before her arrival, acting at the whims of Rahkshi. In Caana's hands, Vazaria was a weapon, a fully-realised instrument of destruction – and with her guidance, Falki could become even more. Already, she could see the red glow amidst the trees; she inhaled deeply, savouring the smell of smoke. This was her first great achievement, the first proof of her theory – once the roar of the flames had subsided, the forest would fall silent for decades to come, perhaps even centuries. And somewhere out there, somewhere beyond her sight, the survivors were huddled on boats, watching their homes burn. Her unwitting disciples. Hambra, no doubt, was among them. The Ronin felt a pang of disappointment as she realised the Jahagir would never understand the gift Caana had given her. Hambra thought her just another Imperial, acting out mindless violence upon the world around her. She failed to see the vision behind it all. But then, hadn't Caana known from the start that it would be this way? This was the path she had chosen. This was the only way to save them, and they would hate her for it. There was one, though, who might understand – the one who had started it all, the catalyst of Caana's evolution. The first, truest expression of Dasakan potential. Caana looked out over the burning horizon, and wondered if the Rakumetsu Toroshu was watching.

IC: (Staff NPC; The Long Road to Ferrum) It was the best landmark they had: the Arena Vulcanus. Out to the west, the cloudless sky was the colour of blood. Tueris watched as the desert began to swallow the sun, and waited. Raanu's instructions had been clear: the volunteers would meet at the arena, and leave before dawn. Tueris was to lead the expedition. It was not a choice anyone could have expected, but it made a certain sense; Ackar was the obvious pick, but he was Vulcanus' First Glatorian and the reigning Champion of the Grand Tournament. Tueris, on the other hand, was entirely expendable – the disgraced once-Second Glatorian who had killed an opponent in the arena and only barely avoided exile would not be missed. It was going on ten years now, but such a crime was hard to forget, and even harder to forgive. The irony, of course, was that everyone remembered Tueris name, and no one recalled that of the boy he had killed; such was the way of things, especially when people had been so enraged by his supposed escape from justice. Raanu had pitched this job to him as an opportunity for redemption. Tueris knew that the only thing awaiting him was an honourable death. He was glad for the opportunity. This was why he waited; he would rest here and wake before the sun rose, and he would greet the death-seekers who came to join him. As he prepared to sleep, he laid his pack down gently behind him, where no thief could reach it. Raanu had told him the technology within was beyond expensive: a piece of strange headgear, the same shades of red and darker-red as Tueris’ armour. A prototype, he said, that would be of vital importance to the mission. As Tueris closed his eyes, his swords were in his hands; he was a light-sleeper, and if anyone thought it wise to approach a sleeping giant, they would quickly learn the error of their ways. And so Tueris slept, and dreamt of a sleep that would last forever.

IC: Caana (Mashtet Fortress) Caana cast her eyes over Falki and the Datsue, waiting for a reply to Vazaria’s question; when none was forthcoming, she turned her gaze back to the other Menti. “Farewell, Vazaria; may Zataka fan your flames.” OOC: @Nato G

IC: Wolf (Atero; Red Star Inn) “Come east with me, first." The words came so quickly that they surprised Wolf herself; she knew, though, that this kindred wolf's cause was just, and had a strange feeling that their meeting was more than mere coincidence. If this was what the fates had in store, then so be it. "If we go to Iconox, it is possible we may never return. If the worst should come to pass, my people need to know what has become of me. More importantly, though…" Her new acquaintance seemed a little woozy – Wolf eyed her own drink, and decided that she, too, had perhaps had enough. She resisted the urge to take a swig, and cleared her throat again; talking at such length was beginning to take its toll. "I believe you should seek the guidance of our Elder. Moth's visions have saved my life, and those of the other Serrata, more than once; his wisdom could be key to our survival." IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) Somnii looked up as she noticed the female Bone Hunter's return – this time, with food. She swallowed hard, and tried to hide that she was salivating. "No babysitter this time?" OOC: @Wotz @Toru Nui

IC: Wolf (Atero; Red Star Inn) “I am Serrat.” She realised, after a moment, that she might need to elaborate; hesitantly, she cleared her throat. “My people live in hiding; it is up to me to bring home the resources they need to live.” Then her brow furrowed. “How soon must you go west?” OOC: @Wotz

By sunfall, word had reached every major village: Vulcanus was calling for able-bodied Glatorian, to take the suicidal trek through Iron Canyon and discover Ferrum's fate. Vulcanus calls for aid.

IC: Well, wasn't this just great. Not only was he back here, here in the sweltering, bloated corpse of industry, not only was he escorting an angry sonofabitch who could break his neck without snapping a sweat, not only was he losing money with every passing second – sure, he had money already, but he would have had more – no, not only that, but he had also been kicked out of the ****** room. Hey Metus, you're really bringing down the vibe in here, so ****** off, would you? Oh, quite agreed, Mr. Crotchety Old Dickwipe I Only Just Met. Metus, go fetch us a coffee, you useless sack of sh- It wasn't a word-for-word recounting. So what? The old man couldn't have given it straight if he tried – and, from what Metus' little birdies had gleaned, it would certainly seem he never had – which left Metus himself, the glorious narrator of his own consciousness, to theatrically cast off the thick veil of subtext. All for your benefit, of course. You're ****** welcome, you ungrateful swine. Maybe you want to know what actually happened, he thought accusatorily, accosting the fictive audience of his own imagining. I bet you're just as bored as I am, sitting out here while all the interesting stuff goes on inside. Probably thinking I'm a pretty pointless protagonist, not even getting to go where the action is. Au contraire, my friend. See, everything that happens in there has already been decided. So maybe you miss out on the conversation itself – and even there I'm doing you a favour, unless you're really that eager to hear Raanu drone on, in which case you're frankly beyond saving – but the important part? That all happened earlier. And you can bet I was there, making sure it all went my way. * * * * * "This is not what was agreed." "It's what's happening." The two Agori stood just inside the gates of the Stronghold, next to Metus' Thornatus. Crucius hefted a sack almost as tall as he was onto the back of the vehicle, without once making eye contact. "And there was no agreement; you made a demand. He's refusing it." As the Bone Hunter moved to board the vehicle, Metus stepped into his way. "I'm taking on a lot of risk here, the least your boss could do is- Good Lords, what is that stench?" "A gift for Raanu. Call it a peace offering." The 'gift' in question smelled – describing it generously – like rancid, sun-dried roadkill, grilled to perfection and then left to char a couple days longer for good luck, or perhaps to smoke out those few maggots that hadn't already sprouted wings and ****** off. "I'm sure he'll be delighted," the Ice Agori rebuffed, his nostrils wrinkling in disgust. "We're not done talking about this." "Yes, we are. Now, are you going to move, or will I have to move you?" Crucius flexed the pistons in his forearm; Metus stood aside. "Wise choice." "Have I ever mentioned how much I admire your negotiating strategy? You really have an aptitude for-" "Just. Drive." * * * * * Past the window, the lava continued to flow, and Raanu stood still. Before him, bathed in the soft orange glow of the meeting chamber, was the dark wood table; beyond it, the man with the metal arm, and upon it, the body of the girl he had called his niece, still clad in her orange armour, now blackened by the fires into which Crucius had cast her. Suddenly, and more acutely than ever before, Raanu truly felt old. Here he stood, having outlived two generations of Somnii’s family. Here he stood, looking down upon her corpse. “Please, cover her up.” “Very well.” With surprising delicacy, Crucius laid the white sheet over her once again; her wrist still poked out from beneath, and Raanu took it gently in his hand. As he tucked it away, his expression was at first inscrutable, and then steel. Out of sight, out of mind – there was business to attend to. “I imagine Metus told you why I summoned you here.” “Just about. Though I have to admit, I’m not really sure what your expedition to Ferrum has to do with me.” “Ideally? Very little.” He looked Crucius directly in the eyes. The Bone Hunter did not flinch away. “Iron Canyon is dangerous enough to traverse already, especially with these rumours of plague. I want your guarantee that the scouting party will be allowed to pass without any altercations with your people.” Crucius raised an eyebrow. “If you mean my clan, then I swear on my honour that they will not interfere. But ‘my people’ are Gatherers – they don’t answer to me, only to their own clan leaders.” “What about the Ghost? Do they answer to him?” Crucius blinked, and then smiled with lips pulled taut as an elastic band. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. There's no such thing as ghosts.” Raanu returned the smile, though his own was far more relaxed. “Nevermind, then. My mistake. Still, I’m sure you can contact the other leaders on my behalf – it would be an awful shame were violence to break out in the canyon. People might begin jumping to conclusions.” “Such as?” “Well, they may find themselves wondering whether the Bone Hunters had something to do with whatever has befallen Ferrum and her Tribe. Since you seem so intent on preventing us from reaching them.” The elastic snapped back into a smirk. “You’re not nearly as foolish as Metus made you out to be. I’ll do my best, but there’s no guarantees the other clans will fall in line.” “That’s all I can ask.” On instinct, Raanu extended his hand to shake Crucius’; cold metal embraced it, and he could not stop his face from falling as he realised the Bone Hunter could now pulverise his bones with hardly a thought. Crucius recognised the expression, and chuckled darkly as he released the elder’s hand. “Be seeing you, Raanu.” Lords, I certainly hope not. * * * * * Once Metus and Crucius were gone, Ackar and a stenographer were summoned to Raanu’s meeting chamber. By sunfall, word had reached every major village: Vulcanus was calling for able-bodied Glatorian, to take the suicidal trek through Iron Canyon and discover Ferrum’s fate. If they survived, they would be well-compensated; in the likely event that they did not, their family would receive the reward in their stead. Interested parties had two days to reach the Fire Tribe village and sign on.

IC: Wolf (Atero; Red Star Inn) "Vengeance doesn't put food on the table." Wolf took another swig of gin. "I have no love for Hunters, but I do have responsibilities." IC: Crucius (Bone Hunter Stronghold) Crucius seemed set to say something else, when he was interrupted by the ringing of a bell; someone was at the gates. Metus had arrived. "Time for me to leave, then. Good luck; try not to disappoint me." He did not wait for a reply, and Taldrix was left alone. IC: Skrall (Stables) Skrall stood with folded arms, watching the proceedings with an expression that had gradually shifted from boredom to outright disapproval. "Let the man keep his shield; would you not wish your captors to extend the same dignity to you, in his position?" He looked then to the disgraced Skrall. "As for you, none of us will grant you an honourable death. Surrender your weapon before you debase yourself any further." IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) The Bone Hunters were gone; with no small amount of concern, Somnii realised that she couldn't recall them leaving. A blackout of some kind, then. It was the first such incident she had been aware of – but then, her days were spent alone in a cell. How would she even have known? No. She couldn't allow herself to dwell on the progress of the disease; days had passed and yet she was still alive, still in possession of her faculties. That was more important. That meant she could still find a way out. OOC: @Wotz @Toru Nui @ skrall

IC: Pirok (The Fowadi) He wanted to refuse the gift – he wanted to refuse it out of politeness, yes, but moreso because of the look in Rynekk's eyes. He did not believe Pirok would come back from this, and Pirok wanted to prove him wrong. ****** his charity, and ****** him. But that same look did not beggar disagreement, and Pirok knew in his heart that these Toa were right to doubt. Hesitantly, he took the hatchet. "I'm borrowing this," he promised, with as much confidence as he could muster. "When you return from your voyage, I'll be here to give it back to you." With that, he directed his attention to Praggos. "I won't burn the bodies – not without a thorough recording of them at the very least, and even then only if I don't believe I can return them to Ko-Koro. Aside from that… everything burns." The lie was shockingly easy to tell; he almost believed it himself. What Praggos did not need to know was that Pirok already had a contingency; if he could not take the bodies, then he would still take a trophy – the same trophy Echelon had taken all those years ago, when he first set foot in the limelight. "One last thing... tell me about the Matoran." OOC: @ fowadi folks, but primarily @Void Emissary and @otter

IC: Crucius (Bone Hunter Stronghold) Crucius immediately set to writing a short series of instructions on the page, and then signed it. "If her condition suddenly deteriorates, or takes a steep downturn from the rate your notes suggest, you're going to have to inform the Ghost yourself. In that situation – and only in that situation – you show this to the guards at the Tower, and they'll let you pass." The old watchtower – increasingly known simply as 'the Tower' – had long been a fixture of the Stronghold. What generations ago had marked the border of their settlement now lay well within its bounds, in a remarkably well-preserved state. Its condition had only improved since the Ghost had begun uniting the Gatherer clans; its renovation appeared to be something of a pet project for Him and his most trusted disciples, and it was well-known by now that it was where He resided. Just what it was that He actually did in there, however, was as much a mystery as the man himself. IC: Skrall (Roxtus; Stables) "Three days' worth should be more than enough to get us to the Stronghold. And we all drive: take it in shifts. That's the fastest and safest way to get to where we're going." OOC: @Toru Nui@ skrall

IC: Skrall (War Room; Outer Chamber) He glanced over his shoulder at the female, already moving on. His hope that these Skrall might fare better may have been misplaced, although the overconfident one had at least one survival skill most of Skrall's old unit had lacked. He made to follow the female, and spoke as he walked. "We will need one Spikit-drawn carriage at least, preferably two. I know already that any attempt to advise Atakus against a Rock Steed will fall on deaf ears, but the rest of us will need to travel further than a steed could safely carry us."

IC: Skrall (War Room; Outer Chamber) His eyes narrowed. "You seem pretty confident in yourself, Skrall. You remind me of the men in my own unit. Are you familiar with what became of them?"

IC: Skrall (War Room; Outer Chamber) Skrall sighed. "Moreso than you, I would wager. Is this all of you?" He examined the party – misfits and outcasts all, her most of all. Still, perhaps that could be to their benefit; the Wastelands were not kind to rigidity and traditionalism. It occurred to him quite suddenly that he had been staring at the female, and he quickly averted his eyes in shame. Her appearance seemed to stir something in him, a strange sensation somewhere in the pit of his stomach that made him feel uncomfortable and exposed. Perhaps this was an example of the Sisters' vaunted magicks. Either way, he would be glad to be rid of this motley crew; Skrall had enjoyed his solitary existence in Roxtus, beyond the watching eye of Tirveus and the mindlessness of the Legion. Loneliness suited him. OOC: @ skrall

IC: Wolf (Atero; Red Star Inn) "Call me Wolf." A pause, then. This man was clearly broke, but if he had allies who weren't… "What takes you west?" IC: Crucius (Bone Hunter Stronghold) Crucius' eyebrow rose, and the faintest hint of a smirk played at the corner of his lips. Surprise was not a terribly common expression for him, and yet… His estimation of Taldrix was shifting by the moment. "Give her something slightly more heroic. A little self-sacrifice, perhaps – I'll leave the details to you. And try not to overcorrect with the AA; it's the effects of this disease that the Ghost is interested in, and he feels those will be best understood by making sure she is otherwise healthy. In fact..." His brow furrowed in consternation. "Do you have a blank page to hand?" OOC: @Wotz @Toru Nui