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Goose

Outstanding BZPower Citizens
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  1. IC: Caana (Hanaloi, Forest) The Ronin felt a fleeting instinct to protect the young Dashi as the Kavinika leapt at her, but it gave way to curiosity as she saw the effects of the infection take hold. Not quite as stupid as you look, then; she thought, glancing at the Rahkshi which was now fighting the Kualsi-wearer, before finally setting her sights on Hambra. Her mask afforded her a moment to evaluate the damage of Falki’s attack – her armour had protected her from the blade, but she still felt the sting of the strike. For now, she was unharried by it; the real pain wouldn’t set in for minutes or hours, not until the bruise began to form. She was still mobile enough to handle the Jahagir. She had done most of her analysis on how to fight the mountain of a woman earlier, when they had first met. Hambra was huge, so wide that she wore Rahkshi spines as pauldrons, with the height to match – which meant she was top-heavy, easily thrown off-balance, as Caana had already done earlier. Her Pakari was formidable, especially at close range. And here she was, Pakari glowing, rushing Caana with every intent to knock her off her feet. The strategy was obvious: stay out of melee range. Use her momentum against her. Aim the staff and let the bear-woman impale herself upon it. Her staff, however, was currently embedded in the dirt, and freeing it would waste precious seconds. Seconds that Caana could not afford to lose. Readjustment, then; her Tonfas were now in-hand. She may not have had a Pakari, but she didn't need one if she could make her hits land nearly as hard. Next step was avoiding Hambra's arm. She could have gone for the simplest option and simply reversed the clothesline attempt, using her foot and her opponent's momentum to instead knock her over, but it was far too easily anticipated, not least because she had swept Hambra's legs from beneath her mere moments earlier. That left two options: side-step, or duck. She settled into a fighting stance – fists locked into position at her sides, feet shoulder-width apart. Made a semi-circle motion with her foot, her ankle ready to turn. From this position, she could easily twist out of the way of Hambra's arm. She didn't. Her foot took her into a twist into a crouch into a punch aimed squarely at Hambra's exposed side, the Tonfa and the Jahagir's own speed turning a simple strike into a blow powerful enough to break ribs on impact. OOC: @Keeper of Kraata @Mel @Nato G
  2. IC: Nikarra (The Iron Mahi, Second Passenger Car) Nikarra didn’t have the words to reply to Vyartha. There wasn’t a single thing she could even begin to say. Silently, she took Vy’s free hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked her dead in the eyes. I would follow you. If you would let me. “Hey, something happening?” The look in Nikarra’s eyes immediately hardened. “Something’s wrong here,” she whispered. “Cover me. I’m gonna check it out.” And with that, she leaned back in her seat, and promptly went limp. Nikarra was standing – no, she was floating – in the middle of the friggin’ desert. ‘What the f-’ And below her were train tracks. Up ahead, the Iron Mahi was speeding away into the distance, and her body with it. She made a mental note never to use her Iden on a moving vehicle again. Luckily, following Dor had given her some practice with picking up speed while projecting, and it took only a few seconds for her to IC: Nikarra (The Wrong Cargo Car At The Right Cargo Time) ’-uck me.’ OOC: @Void Emissary and @BULiK
  3. IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) "You've got to be ****ing kidding me." Muir's tone was as disgusted as it was exasperated, any hint of professionalism swept away in the currents of rage. "You can't seriously be thinking about weaponising this? I get that your tragic lack of a soul prevents you from having even the slightest ethical compunctions, but you at least have a brain. Quit salivating for a second and consider the blatant inevitability of attempts to harness liquid ****ing evil backfiring on you. Calculate the cost effectiveness of that." OOC: @Emzee @BULiK @Keeper of Kraata @ARROW404
  4. OOC: Absolutely massive thank you to @Krayzikk for this jam, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. IC: Caana (Hanaloi, Forest) Caana felt the Rahkshi’s touch in her mind, wasting precious time that would be better spent on action. Your Mistress did not tell you? Fine. I will show you. * * * * * "I DEMAND AN AUDIENCE." The Ronin was already covered from head to toe in gore, literally standing atop the demons she had already slain. As another screamed, she loosed her arrow with pinpoint precision; the charred husk was dead before it hit the ground. "Call off your dogs, already. Let's talk." “... a fine thing for a dog to say,” whispered the wind. There was no other way to perceive it, to pin down from where the words were uttered. They simply began, fully if softly formed, in the Menti’s ears. They came not from one direction but seemingly from every direction, all else incomprehensibly still. The dead upon the ground stared sightlessly, accusingly, at their killer; Zataka’s true Sons, or so some of the Menti had come to know them. “A rabid dog, without manners or courtesy.” “But you speak. And though it is within my power to silence you, I am… Entertained. Had the dog an audience, what would it say?” "I would say that I have come here as an ally." Caana's tone was even and carefully measured, even as her eyes scoured her surroundings for the source of the sourceless. "Not a dog, but a warrior. Your Sons are impressive – they have already accomplished much, and changed the face of the Archipelago. But a well-trained dog is still a dog, and it can only follow. Your war needs leaders." “Better to join the winning side?” The wind said, perhaps scornfully, after considering the words. “I have Seen through their eyes, Menti. Daughter of a clan now gone. I have watched merchants barter for their lives when begging fails. I have witnessed the passing of warriors braver than they, drowned in a tide of the creatures I possess. The war has a leader. I am winning.” “What then do you bring? What boon, what prize, to make you worth keeping?” Caana smiled and shook her head, perhaps quite genuinely amused. "If you have Seen through me, then you know already that I am not interested in your cause because you are winning. Neither am I here to bargain for my life. I told you already, I am impressed; you took a static, stagnating society, and you changed it by force." Her smile fell, then, her expression now stoney and resolute. "The boon I offer is my loyalty. Loyalty born not from fear or from control, but from passion, from dedication to a cause. Your cause." "I am worth keeping not only because I am not worth discarding, because there is no reason to throw away a tool that could be of use, but more importantly because of my mind. The Dasaka are learning to fight back, now; your focus will be divided, the effectiveness of brute force and the advantage of numbers reduced. You need people capable of decision-making, who can adapt – people who do not need you to order their every move. You need me because I have the ability to think for myself, and because my belief in your cause means that I will not use that ability to betray your interests." “Perhaps.” Gone was the metered sting, the carefully chosen scorn, that had been meant to provoke the Dasaka as surely as Caana’s very approach had provoked the voice. It had served its purpose. She had been pushed and held. She did not retreat, bargain, or plead; only stated what she had come to say, and refused to be moved. A soft, reverberating susurration echoed on the air. Laughter. “Courage you have. Skill, as well. It would take greater work to kill you than to use you. Since you have my attention… What is it you seek in return for your loyalty?” The ghost of a smile was on Caana's lips again, the Ronin pleased with how the conversation had evolved. "I have no interest in power, nor in favours; only in seeing to it that your work is done. All I ask of you is a direction to walk and a goal to accomplish, until the next." “Very well, clanless. A path you shall have. A goal at its end. Come through it intact and victorious, and you will have your place in my service. The first, and favored, of my servants here in the Archipelago.” The Rahkshi that had been gathered, waiting patiently at the periphery, parted and moved away. “Perform well enough and I may yet send you on to do my work on foreign shores where your kind have fled.” “Go to the island of Hanaloi, and discern what is happening there. My Sons may See but their understanding is… Limited. Go and find those who hide there, and what gives my Sons such trouble. See that I am not troubled by that island again.” Caana inclined her head. "It will be done, my Lady." * * * * * Caana searched Falki’s mad dash for signs of a feint, and found none. She had angered the Dashi, no doubt by maiming her companion, and now the girl had chosen to ignore Hambra’s orders and try instead to cripple her. It would have been an excellent strategy, had Caana still been contending with Hambra, Semraed and the Kualsi-wearer, her attention split and the Dashi’s approach covered. Alone, as Falki’s comrades retreated to the branches above, it was suicide. There was a genuine sadness in Caana’s eyes as she leapt up, using the Dashi’s momentum to place herself behind her and her own gravity to stab down with her staff. She had liked the girl. It was a shame that she would die here. OOC: @Mel @Keeper of Kraata
  5. IC: Nikarra (The Iron Mahi, Second Passenger Car) The loud noise startled Nikarra, too – her hand instinctively went to her thigh, where there was no longer any knife to withdraw. She shrugged sheepishly at Vyartha. "Old habits, huh?" The thump had been peculiar, coming as it did from the roof of all places, but she tried to dismiss it. It was hard to imagine many places safer than a rolling metal bunker. Philosophy. Did Nikarra have a philosophy? Even before Vyartha described the void, Nikarra had believed that Nothing awaited us after death, but life had never seemed meaningless to her. Sure, she had lost the will to live before, but what was so different about what had brought her back from the brink? All it took was a smile and a scarf wrapped around her shoulders in a Ta-Koro bar. Proof that people could change – no, that people could heal. But she had never felt that she had a purpose, not since her days of trying to mitigate the damage caused by her cousin. Was that what she was missing? Was that what had led her to this train, this carriage, this day? What had led her back to Vy? That would mean the existence of fate. Of Destiny. That would mean it was Dor's destiny to die alone, miles beneath the earth, far from everyone who loved him. It was his destiny to die thinking no one believed in him, that he couldn't redeem himself. If that was what fate meant, then Nikarra preferred not to believe in it. "What if you weren't all wrong?" She asked, meeting Vy's eyes again. "What if this really is all there is, but there's still more to life than just doing what feels good, with no regard for others?" OOC: @Void Emissary @oncertainty
  6. IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) A tight knot of disgust had formed in Muir's stomach, a reflexive response to Niici's suddenly playful tone. The woman was truly repellant, in a way few people Muir had ever met had the capacity to be; he imagined, face-to-face with Hewkii, that he might feel something similar, if not quite as potent – after all, Hewkii genuinely seemed to believe that he was protecting Po-Koro. Niici, on the other hand, knew and embraced that she and her cohorts acted entirely out of greed and self-interest. And as for her so-called 'lawyers,' Muir knew their kind all too well, and he suspected Niici knew just how insulting it was to describe them as his peers. They were a perversion of everything the job was meant to be, glorified thugs in designer suits – they had no interest in justice, and they defended their blatantly criminal clients not out of a belief that everyone deserves the best possible defence, but solely in order to line their pockets, the better to buy mattresses luxurious enough that they might sleep easy at night. Theirs were trials of cover-ups and out-of-court settlements, the cruel calculus of cost-efficiency. Their line of work was obfuscation, not representation, and they were an insult to the field. It was these thoughts, and the Rode-granted awareness that every word she spoke was an untruth, that occupied Muir's mind, too concerned with considering the room's occupants to remember that he, too, was a participant in this conversation, until Vrill said the word that all of this seemed to hinge on. Muir grimaced, and forced himself to tune back in. This could get messy. OOC: @BULiK @ARROW404 @Keeper of Kraata @Emzee
  7. IC: (Ga-Koro Markets) Pain. Pain the likes of which he hadn't experienced since he was merely a man. The Lesterin hissed, and glanced over his shoulder – the Toa had found allies. It appeared he had escaped in the nick of time. The diskette made him stumble, nearly throwing him off balance, but his momentum kept him moving forwards. He'd have time to rest, to heal, once he was safe. Heh. To heal. How ironic. OOC: ??? to Le-Wahi. A big thank you to @Vezok's Friend for this collaboration, and to @Krayzikk for reverse-kneecaping my guy.
  8. IC: (Ga-Koro Markets, Alley) And the rush of water was exactly what he had been waiting for. "Sorry to cut and run, my dear," the Lesterin announced with a smirk, the glow of his mask now revealing him as having climbed up to the ceiling of the hut. He dove through the wall, which crumbled far too easily… Had Leah come through the door frame, she might have noticed the rot at its edges. Had she waited before releasing the surging water, she might also have noticed that the walls were similarly weakened. The Jutlin alone couldn't bring a building down in the time it took the Ga-Toa to catch up with him, but the surge of water through the floor and around the room was more than enough to finish the job. As the walls of the hut lurched inwards, the Lesterin was already running, with every intention of putting Ga-Koro as far behind him as possible. OOC: @Vezok's Friend
  9. IC: (Ga-Koro Markets, Alley) Caught in the geyser, the Lesterin flopped in the air like so much rotten meat, and came back to the ground with a splash. It was quickly becoming apparent that he'd bitten off a tad more than he could chew; with the Toa Maru now furious, and far less concerned about collateral damage, he was sorely outmatched. Time, he thought, to make his retreat. He realised that he had landed next to a hut, thrown some ways away from the Maru. That gave him a little time, but he still had to buy himself more. He didn't even clamber fully to his feet before breaking through the doorway with unusual ease, crashing through quite nearly on all fours. They'd been fighting too long on the Toa Maru's terms – it was time to reclaim the advantage. OOC: @Vezok's Friend
  10. IC: (Ga-Koro Markets, Alley) The Lesterin hissed in pain, but refused to drop his grin, his yellow eyes gleaming with equal parts fury and bloodlust. "You know, that doesn't look great. You might want to get it checked out-" His taunting was interrupted by Leah's next volley of strikes, and he was forced to duck back in order to evade them. He quickly realised his error. He felt his balance shift beneath him, threatening to tip him over into the hole. There was no way to regain it – not with the water around his feet, and certainly not with his centre of balance already so distorted by his proportions. His only option was to try and catch himself. The crooked man cackled as he reached out to grab hold of Leah's arm, intent on either halting his fall or taking her down with him. OOC: @Vezok's Friend
  11. IC: (Ga-Koro Markets, Alley) The crooked man's laughter was harsh, grating, like steel scraping against rock. "What, you expected that to work? I must admit, I hardly expected you to be quite this entertaining." The miasma was weakened, the severity of its effects reduced – its range, too. But rather than wash it clear, the water merely dampened it. "You can't cure what you do not understand. Take your little speech, for instance-" He moved very slightly forward, but still kept his distance. The purifying water appeared to have had some impact on his appearance, too, revealing features beneath the grime and the rot. This close, and with that benefit, Leah could truly see the Lesterin's face – or, rather, she could recognise that she couldn't see it. His sunken eyes were not quite so sunken as they seemed, but instead peered out from behind a Kanohi, twisted and scabbed over until it appeared to have become a part of him, and rendered unrecognisable in the process. "Your insistently shallow focus is not a moral failing, but a tactical one. You treat symptoms, and never fight the cause." He grinned, lifting his awful hand as if to proudly display it, shifting his grotesque fingers. "Over and over again, you make the same mistake. You try to 'cure' me, and still your approach is only skin-deep…" He seemed to move in the blink of an eye, his swipe scarily fast – and now, thanks to his step forward and his obscenely long limbs and digits, he was within reach of Leah, clawing at her eyes with boney talons. "This is the product of a diseased mind." OOC: @Vezok's Friend sorry for the wait, had to do some thinking and then consult with Krayzikk
  12. IC: (Ga-Koro Markets, Alley) "Tut tut, Toa – weren't you listening?" The Lesterin stepped nonchalantly over the newly-formed gap, carried safely across by his grotesquely long legs. "If you wash me out to sea, I only become someone else's problem. Or, worse still, the high tide drags me right back to your very own doorstep." He was looking around, now, milky eyes scouring the water's surface for any sign of his foe. "And I believe the both of us are quite aware I'm not just talking about myself. Your days of 'out of sight, out of mind' are over, my dear; all your Husi have finally come home to roost." OOC: @Vezok's Friend
  13. IC: Caana (Hanaloi, Forest) The screech of the 'Rahkshi' was a mistake – it gave Caana just enough time to react, side-stepping it with ease and twisting to keep both Hambra and her new opponent in sight, in the process almost unintentionally dodging the attacks of the two Dashi. Her escape, however, had sacrificed her visual on Hambra; she couldn't be sure which of the illusions was the real deal. "No, Jahagir, I am not." Still, there was an easy solve… but Hambra wasn't her main concern, nor were the little ones, hesitant though she was to underestimate them. This newcomer with the Kualsi, her mask made her unpredictable; left unattended to, she would quickly waste Caana's energy and attention. "In fact, I hold just as much disdain for them as you." Her next actions took a split-second, too fast to allow preparation or caution in her opponents, only hard-coded reflex. Semraed's instincts and reflexes were good, Caana had witnessed as much already, but if this worked then even she couldn't react in time. Switching to her right hand alone at the midpoint of the staff, she swung it at the 'Rahkshi's' centre of mass. She knew it was unlikely to connect; it didn't need to, only to become the focus of her target's attention while Caana summoned unfocused Soulsword energy into her left hand. Her mask still active, she waited for the Kualsi-wearer to be struck by the feint or to teleport – wherever she moved, Caana could quickly catch sight of her (she expected it to be close, the better to defend and back up her clan leader) and use that moment of vulnerability to toss the energy at her face. A blind woman would be unable to make use of that Kualsi, after all. And as for the Dashi… those, she left to the Kavinika. And then, of course, if the Kualsi-wearer did move beyond her reach, her Kanohi would give her enough time to switch targets. It seemed to her that Semraed, too, could stand to lose a little visual acuity. OOC: @Mel @Keeper of Kraata @Nato G
  14. yeah that moc is absurdly sick, I'm glad I bent to peer pressure and brought back the Mystix
  15. IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) Muir's eyes narrowed. The chairwoman of the Cultured bloody Gentry. "Muirtagh Fenn. Lawyer." He glared at Cyrix, then turned his attention back to Niici. "I must admit, I expected my first meeting with a member of the Cultured Gentry to be in court. Preferably with said member in the dock." OOC: @Emzee @BULiK @ARROW404 @Keeper of Kraata
  16. IC: (Ga-Koro Markets, Alley) As he felt the ground beneath his feet shift, the Lesterin moved – fast, but not quite fast enough. The water threw him off-balance, sent him stumbling into the wall of a hut; as he caught himself, his fingers dug into its surface, and black rot branched like veins from where he touched. "Heh. That's quite the impressive trick, Toa." Though his tone remained snide, something had changed in the crooked man's demeanour; he spoke through gritted teeth, and his sunken eyes were seething. "I know that Purity is a lie – that everything you wash your hands of isn't truly gone, and instead the water just carries your filth out of sight. We toss our plagues into the ocean, and still believe it pure." OOC: @Vezok's Friend
  17. IC: (Ga-Koro Markets, Alley) "Me? Why, I'm no one, my dear; just some poor sap who took a tumble into the wrong puddle of viscous ichor." The Lesterin smiled as he spoke, and took another step forward, closing the distance. If the Toa wished to outrun his miasma, she had better try harder than that. "And I want… nothing. Which, as it so happens, answers your other question, too: I work for nothing. Or perhaps it's better to say I serve nothing – after all, when you work for nothing... Well, it's hardly going to pay." OOC: @Vezok's Friend
  18. IC: Montague (The Unfortunate Fikou) "What other way is there to solve this? This is both mystery and affliction. I- I know that you, too, must have felt the draw, the pull." Montague's tone was grave, now, the matter clearly one of the utmost seriousness to them. "It is curiosity. Curiosity is what brought you to my door, just as curiosity is what drove me to plan this expedition. I doubt we three alone have shared these dreams; our experiences are not unique, and even my own sister shows the signs. Loathe as we may be to admit it, we are not special. We were not chosen. We chose ourselves. "Why is it our dreams that turn more terrible with each passing night? Why is every person on Mata Nui who has drowned and lived to tell the tale not speaking of this? It is because, whether it be out of fear or apathy, they do not want to know. But we three, we need to know. That is why we remember our dreams, why we obsess over them, why we swim deeper into the abyss each night; we will not be satisfied, we will not be free, until our curiosity is sated... For better, or for worse." OOC: @Perp @Nato G
  19. IC: Merrill (The Eyries) Drunken stumbling was, of course, an ineffective way to win a fight. Merrill had cut her teeth brawling in bars, against men – Skakdi included – who were a ****** of a lot bigger and a ****** of a lot stronger than her. Sure, being drunk often made her clumsy; she'd had her fair share of stumbles. But it didn't make her slow. "The Hunt, huh? Do we look like Rahi to you, ******-for-brains?" The Kaiakan's low aim made it clear enough that he was shooting at her legs; the time it took to ready his bow gave her ample opportunity to sidestep once he finally shot, with the added benefit of making her a moving target. When the next arrow whistled past her shoulder, and he continued aiming at that same spot, she laughed. "Mate, you really ought to shake it up a little. And also, quite frankly, if you wanted to avoid profanity, maybe you shouldn't have shot at people minding their own ****** business, which is a little bit more of a fox pass in my book." The Kaikan was circling and shooting, strategising, but doing so on a few faulty assumptions. The first was that he was dealing with a shambling drunk, and not the bar fight champion of Seprilli; the second was that her next attack would be aimed at him. That Merrill charged at the Kaikan was to be expected – she knew it as well as he did, which meant that she knew to aim herself just a little bit ahead of his mount. But what wouldn't be expected was that she was fast, faster than any drunk with injured legs had a right to be, and the way she thrust her left shoulder out in front of her made the reason plain; already, the wound from that first arrow was healing. Drink didn't slow her, it just blinded her to risks; pain didn't slow her, because the drink numbed her and her mask took care of the rest. Merrill wasn't a drunk. She was a berserker. She let out a battle-cry that would put any Skakdi to shame as she ran her collision course with the Kaikan's mount, too fast for a change in direction to make any difference – after all, the greatest weakness of any rider is that crucial moment between their order, and its execution. Merrill had already picked up too much momentum by then, and no arrow would stop her. At her side, her fist was ready. And when her gauntlet hit that Rahi, the rider would get a lot more distance from her than he expected. OOC: Sorry for the delay, @capMARVELOUS and @BULiK, but hey – better late than never
  20. IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) "Shared it with who?" OOC: @BULiK @Keeper of Kraata @ARROW404 @Emzee
  21. IC: (Ga-Koro Markets, Alley) "Composting? I prefer to think of it as withering. And I am afraid I couldn't stop it if I wanted to." Leah's plan, while clever, served only to prove how insidious the miasma was; even with the mist swirling around the Lesterin, it continued unabated. The same could not be said, however, of the crooked man himself – with his visibility limited, he tensed and looked around in confusion, waiting for an attack that never came. It was only once she spoke again that he was able to refocus. "Now, as for explanations, those I am quite able to provide; I wouldn't want you to think me uncooperative. Please, ask your questions." OOC: @Vezok's Friend
  22. IC: (Ga-Koro Markets, Alley) But the miasma was already getting worse – or, perhaps, it wasn't changing at all, and it was the length of exposure itself that made the Toa Maru feel increasingly unwell. Something about it crept under the skin, crawling deeper and deeper with each passing moment, bringing with it the heavy, sticky heat of fever and the familiar acid burn of vomit rising in the back of the throat. The crooked man himself sighed and pouted, with a comically wide frown that didn't reach his watery, jaundice-yellow eyes. "That was unfortunate," he admitted, standing still. The Ga-Toa was on edge now, and backing her even further into a corner was risky. "Perhaps not so much 'wrong place, wrong time' as 'wrong person.' My money is on a weak heart; the poor thing just couldn't cope with the stress." OOC: @Vezok's Friend
  23. IC: (Ga-Koro Markets, Alley) "Oh, I've been told that I am very sick indeed." He took another step toward Leah, the ground immediately turning foul beneath his feet. He moved his fingers, gently, dancing on air with a sense of awful anticipation; though they were largely bone, long and twisted, rather than the clicking and clacking one might expect they instead produced more of a soft, wet crunch, like the sound of walking upon autumn leaves. This was, perhaps, due to the tattered skin and what might best be described as gristle that lingered still around the knuckles. And there, on one of the fingers of his right hand, right where the bone splintered at the joint, was the slightest touch of fresh, red blood. The Lesterin smiled; those teeth that were not rotten yellow were either black as tar or just plain missing. Despite the cavities and the decay, all were unnaturally sharp, and his breath was unspeakably foul. "But you should be careful, my dear; I'm terribly contagious." OOC: @Vezok's Friend
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