a goose

"The Empire has come here for lumber. We will give them tinder." pretty sure this passes the 12-hour double post limit

IC: Caana (Mashtet Fortress) Curious. Vazaria was holding something back; Caana would have to ascertain exactly what that was at a later point. “Simply put? They are how we win, without having to exchange so much as another blow. If there is any way to determine their abilities before reviving them, then we should focus on those with powersets related to heat, such as the one you made good use of in the battle.” She looked to Vazaria as she spoke the last few words, and though her own expression didn’t soften, she hoped at least that her compliment might take the edge off of Vazaria’s bitterness. Developing good relations with her allies would be vital to their long-term success, even if establishing her own authority was currently a higher priority. “The primary goal of the Dasaka’s Hanaloi expedition is to secure a new source of timber for the war effort. That said, Hanaloi is also of significant sentimental value to the Mashtet, who still consider it their home. It is thanks to this that we have the opportunity to win a major victory on two fronts; the first, obviously, is strategic, denying our enemies access to a valuable resource. The second, however, is the damage we can do to morale. We will burn this forest to the ground, and when we do, the fires will reach so high that they are seen from Sado, and the smoke will blot out the sky. When at last the flames are sated, the charred island will stand as a monument to Zataka’s power, and to Her ruthlessness. “The Empire has come here for lumber. We will give them tinder.” OOC: @Nato G @Mel @Keeper of Kraata

IC: Caana (Mashtet Fortress) “Mm.” Caana’s eyes narrowed. Zataka had sent Vazaria as… backup? And did so without informing her of my presence. A test, then, of both her agents’ capabilities. “The attack was foolish. You surrendered the element of surprise, and all-but abandoned a fortified position, making yourself and the Rahkshi with you vulnerable in the process. I am unsure how exactly these masks of yours work; that is something I will have to investigate later. For now, you do not answer to the Rahkshi – from now on, you answer to me.” She projected her voice this time, looking over each of the Infected and the Rahkshi, arms folded behind her back. She recognised one carrying the same staff she did, healing its comrade much as she had witnessed before, and took note; if it could heal non-Rahkshi too, it would be invaluable. “I, too, was sent by Zataka. But I have been sent in possession of my own mind, working by my own free will, to take charge of Her forces on Hanaloi and see that the opponents to Her will are stopped. This, at least, we are in an excellent position to do; I was able to gather information on their objectives and their numbers, while they viewed me as an ally.” She turned again, focusing her attention once more on Vazaria. “These creatures, the slugs that inhabit the Rahkshi. Do we have more of them?” OOC: @Nato G @Keeper of Kraata @Mel

IC: Caana (Hanaloi, Forest) “That's correct.” Caana’s gaze was ice-cold; she didn’t know what to think of this Vazaria. She bore the same marks as Falki and the Datsue, meaning she had likely been pressed into service. Another dog of war. “Two, to be precise: firstly, that attack. That was your idea?” OOC: @Nato G

IC: The katana was embedded to the hilt, the midnight-blue blade skewered alike through woman as through wall. All that was left to be seen was bone, and blood. People had killed for that sword; people had died for it. This was the way of things. As the girl looked into her aunt’s eyes in those final moments, there was no fear, no sadness. Only anger… and pride. Caana had never felt so disgusted in her life. The gates to the Mashtet fortress lay ajar, but were at least not too badly damaged. Though the once-imposing structure now lay in ruins, she suspected it would still hold up under a direct assault, limiting the options of the enemy. If her plans succeeded then it would be as foolish as it was pointless for the islanders or the expedition to lay siege to it. As she entered, Caana noted that the corrupted Datsue had arrived already, and though they had travelled in silence she knew that Falki was not far behind her. That left only one ally unaccounted for – the very one with whom Caana intended to speak. “Where is Vazaria?” OOC: @Nato G @Mel @Keeper of Kraata

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive, Storeroom) “I think that’s everything in its place,” Muir replied, smiling. “Feel free to get in touch with me at any time; you have my card. I’ll be sure to come by the next time in Ko-Koro.” With Cyrix gone, that left Vrill and Niici alone in the other backroom, a prospect Muir found significantly more troubling than his private meeting with the Kalta. Still, he kept his anxiety from his face; he knew how to hold his feelings below the surface when he needed to. “For now, I’d best be getting back to my partner, and letting you reopen. I’m sure we’ve kept you from your business quite long enough, and I wouldn't want to abuse your hospitality.”

A dotted line of death and decay, where each drop of diseased blood had fallen.

IC: When dawn broke upon Kini-Nui, it would find the lush greenery of the clearing marred, a trail of brown, desiccated grass torn from the shade of the trees all the way to the steps of the Suva Nui. By then, the withered man who walked that way expected to be long gone. Such a path had followed him most of the way from Ga-Koro, a dotted line of death and decay where each drop of diseased blood had fallen. At the very least, he’d taken care to avoid lingering when possible, sticking to the roads that had already been killed and paved for him. Ga-Koro had, perhaps, not been the wisest choice of destination – Ta-Koro, Po-Koro, Ko-Koro, and of course Onu-Koro; all had the sense to live on barren ground, and to kill that which was not barren already. Ga-Koro floated on flimsy foundations, a boardwalk city always but a misstep from capsizing. The perfect target, until he had to make his blood-spattered getaway. Perhaps he’d visit Le-Koro next. The Entropy Beetles had done great work, to be sure, but they were too disorganised. They lacked his singular focus. He could spread his disease to the very foundations of their house of cards, bring the whole Koro crashing down. But first… First, he would report his success to his patron. OOC: @Krayzikk

IC: Montague And that, my dear sister, was that; preparations were underway at once, as I called in every favour and spent every widget I had (and a fair few more), all in service of our great expedition. Perhaps if I knew then the fate that awaited us all, I would have exerted more caution, rather than diving quite so recklessly into the murky depths of which I dreamt… or perhaps I am simply lying to myself. Perhaps there was no dissuading me from this course. Perhaps, dearest Rhodes, all of this was simply inevitable. But my tragic tale is not yet complete. Rather than bore you with the details of the legwork that followed, I will (for once) get straight to the point: After days of planning and dreadful anticipation, we three trailblazers stood upon the sands of that Onu-Wahi shore, preparing to board the boat that I had rented… OOC: @Nato @Perp sincerest apologies for the wait

IC: Caana (Hanaloi, Forest) The Ronin secured her staff once more upon her back, summoning her bow again as she began to back out of the clearing. Only once she was clear would she dispel her weapon, and with it the light that illuminated her position. And as the flickering blue glow dissipated, Caana smiled. OOC: Caana to the Mashtet Fortress.

IC: Caana (Hanaloi, Forest) Caana had many advantages; Hambra's attack, which would have been clearly telegraphed regardless, was rendered in slow motion not only by Caana's mask but also by the Jahagir's injury. In addition to this, she had Falki nipping at her heels – or, more accurately, at Hambra's. Even so, it took her a second to comprehend her opponent's perplexing choice. She fights like a wrestler. Caana had seen such techniques before, Tajaar brawlers who fought hand-to-hand for sport. Such matches were rarely to the death; in many ways, it was glorified sparring. But the bear hug, the clothesline attempt – these were all attempts to immobilise her, attempts that would have been much more successful in the enclosed arena in which they belonged. Interrupting and preventing Hambra's attempt to crush her was child's play, once she realised her intention. She swiped her hand sideways in a simple chop, bringing the flat of her tonfa down upon Hambra's chest injury – not with remotely as much force as before, which hardly mattered now. The bear-woman had made the mistake of exposing her side yet again by raising her arms enough to grab Caana. Near simultaneously, she headbutted Hambra, the simplest and most effective way to disorient an opponent in such close quarters. Finally, with her other hand she punched the Jahagir squarely in the solar plexus. With the benefit of the tonfa, it was more than guaranteed to knock the wind out of her. The onslaught was perfectly tailored to leave Hambra defenseless: winded, discombobulated, and in severe pain. There was no dodging Caana's attacks at this range; the Jahagir would need at least a moment to recover, and would not be nearly as much of a threat once she had. Caana only needed a moment. At long last, she summoned her bow and arrow, her tonfas returned to her hips. To those around her, they seemed to appear almost instantly, the mental effort hastened by her mask. That same mask allowed her to aim with unnatural precision, and let loose her arrow – not at Hambra, but at the bow-woman in the trees. If she had the wherewithal to have noticed Caana taking aim and evade, there was only one route fast enough: Whether the arrow hit its mark or not, she would drop. And Caana had not shot to kill, but to maim and immobilise – aimed at her target's kneecap, the pain alone would leave any opponent screaming. Easy prey for the Kavinika, and an excellent distraction for the expedition. .:Vazaria, it's time to retreat; their reinforcements are growing near. Let the remaining Kavinika cover us. Falki – with me. As for the eavesdroppers-:. She tore her staff from the ground. .:Come pick up your Jahagir and return to your tower, lest the wolves reach her first.:. OOC: That arrow is aimed at Lana. @Keeper of Kraata @Mel @Nato G

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) Muir nodded and reached into his coat, producing a small, leather-bound notepad (with the slightest metal latch) and a pencil of his own – and an unusual one, at that. Muir's 'pencil' was a small tube of graphite powder, which flowed out and quickly coalesced into a thin rod with a pointed tip. The benefit quickly became clear, as it wrote far faster than one could by hand. Careful ripping paper; it's louder than writing. Files are all back in my office in Po-Koro – I made a habit of keeping copies of any reports I wrote for the Guard, too, after a few 'got lost'. I'll bring you fresh copies when I'm next by. As for the Gentry, we weren't expecting them, but their apparent relationship with the Kalta does concern me. We'll see what the investigation turns up. The graphite was a trick he rarely showed off – even Vrill hadn't seen it in action (and for good reason, too; even partners need secrets, especially if one speaks in half-truths and implications). It was the perfect aid to Muir's investigations, allowing him to quickly record the details of a conversation while they were fresh in his mind, sometimes even by secretly transcribing in real time. Better yet, he could check his notes without even looking; the graphite left on the paper was easily detectable with his powers, especially so close on his person. He couldn't know whether Priicu would realise its significance, but now seemed a perfect time to make use of it. After all, how else could he write as fast as he talked? OOC: @ARROW404

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) Muir glanced at the door, closed securely behind them. There was no telling if Niici was listening, and he reached out with his elemental powers; she had little extraneous metal on her, but it might be just enough for him to pick it up if she was eavesdropping at the door. "I was still with the Po-Koro Guard back then, before the Sentinels had even been established. They took any opportunity to get me out of their hair, so after the battle, I was sent to do some interviews and investigation, so that 'Po-Koro could learn from the defeat'. It was a real assignment, don't get me wrong; the destruction of Pala-Koro was deeply troubling, particularly given its unique advantages." The lawyer paused to take a deep breath, his fingers twitching involuntarily. Mata Nui, what he wouldn't give for a cigarette right about now… "I've seen some terrible things, my friend, but the sheer devastation the servants of Makuta wrought there is chief among them. I don't know if you recall, but the pride of Pala-Koro was its walls: not only were they a formidable defensive structure, but they had a fascinating technological advantage in the form of what I could best describe as an elemental jamming field. I never saw it at work, but it was apparently quite the thing to behold… until it stopped working. "Echelon and his cronies destroyed the gate with ease, and then things get even stranger. They had, you see, apparently planted explosives along the walls; when they went off, the walls came down, and the dampening field with them. After that, it was a slaughter." He scratched his chin, fingers glancing off his lips. "The only thing is, they had no time to plant those explosives, and they appeared to have been perfectly placed at strategic weak points – so not only must they have infiltrated the compound, but they either had excellent luck or an uncanny knowledge of its unique construction and technology. And the man who designed those walls was none other than the architect Ambages, Niici's predecessor. "Of course, during those events, Niici herself was still chairwoman; Ambages only became chairman when she stepped down, before resuming her position after his demise. The leadership of the Gentry has an altogether sordid history, given that Ahkmou was one of its founders. As for the occupation of Ko-Koro, all I have is speculation. But Echelon easily breaching the walls of a well-defended Koro, during Ambages' leadership, a position he only gained after Matoro's mysterious assassination… Well, the story is a little too familiar, don't you think?" OOC: @ARROW404

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) Muir thanked Priicu, and didn't speak again until they were safely out of earshot. Even then, he kept to hushed tones. He wasn't too worried about Vrill and Cyrix – if there was one thing with which he could trust his partner, it was avoiding escalation. "I wanted to offer a word of friendly advice," he all-but whispered, and though his tone was grave, he was clearly quite sincere. "I caught that glint in your eye when Niici came in. I don't blame you; you're a businessman providing an invaluable service, which doesn't necessarily generate a great deal of revenue. Money and influence would not only offer opportunities for expansion, but also improvements to your own quality of life – after all, nothing in this world is free." "But there's the rub, Priicu: everything costs something, and the price of entry into the Cultured Gentry is as high as it is irrecoverable. They've been indirectly involved in a multitude of atrocities, always just far enough removed to offer them plausible deniability, but the pattern is undeniable. From Pala-Koro to the occupation of this very city, their fingerprints are on every locked door the disciples of darkness mysteriously find open." Muir paused then, as he returned the boxes to their rightful place. "As I said, this is only advice, and a bit of context. Your decisions are, of course, your own to make; but if reaching out to the Gentry is something you're considering, you had best weigh the worth of your return on investment. After all, a soul ought not be sold lightly." OOC: @ARROW404

IC: Muir (Wise Man’s Archive) Muir did not react to the exchange between Vrill and Cyrix, and his face was unusually stoic as continued to glare at Niici. "If that's all, Madam Chairwoman," The words were aural venom, the lawyer's soft voice now clipped and measured. "I'd best be getting these documents back to where they belong. Priicu, you wouldn't mind showing me back to your storeroom?" It was an odd request; the route back was quite straightforward, even if no one in the room other than himself and Priicu knew that, and Muir's expression and tone gave away nothing. OOC: @ARROW404 @Emzee @Keeper of Kraata @BULiK

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

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

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

Her First and Most Loyal Servant : )

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

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

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

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.

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

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