shadow pridak money gang

IC: As they walked, Reordin tuned out most of the banter between the two Toa Kalta. His attention was divided between Skrihen, the conversation that Tarkahn's convocation had interrupted, and observing the progress of the Koro's reconstruction. As they approached the Sanctum, it grew obvious that the inner areas of the Koro were getting the lion's share of the attention, as classier inns, restaurants, or observatories would crawl with twice or thrice the amount of Matoran and raw materials littering the streets as the old, working-class neighborhoods they'd left behind. He wondered what Korero would think of this. Despite his new role as Le-Koro's official protector and his breezy, upbeat nature, Korero was as much a denizen - and a misfit within - Ko-Koro as Reo himself, and he wondered if the archaeologist would find Tarkahn's attention towards the city's already-pretty districts as distasteful as Reo did. But maybe not. Korero himself always seemed like he'd come from an average home - and unlike his caustic mentor, seemed to have come out of Ko-Koro just fine. Mata Nui, he actually missed Korero. Maybe it was that shock (or some of the Toa of Air's nauseatingly positive influence upon him) that caused Reo to snap out of his haze just in time to hear Zueya's question. Before Ko-Koro fell - maybe even before he'd talked to his friend again - he would have chafed at the idea of playing tour guide to these two. They were Toa Kalta, two of the Toa who had contributed to yet another snub from the village he'd given his life to. But now, Reordin found himself genuinely adopting the same attitude he'd worn as armor during every behavioral sanction, every sacking, and every new indignity - Who cares? The Toa Maru of Ice tightened his Sanctum Guard coat around him, feeling the familiar old touch of Muaka furs (finally cleansed of blood) on the cheeks of his Tauhaka. He begrudged Zueya the wolfish half-grin that had made him the Maru's most-popular merchandise mover. (Second place? Leah. Third? Oreius. Good for him.) "Have him take you to the Capella," he advised. "The second floor has a great view of the Ko-Suva, and they usually comp desserts for couples. Great mousse." -Tyler

IC: The Toa of Iron looked at the helping hand with undisguised incredulity; amid all the horrors of his life, those he'd done and watched, said and left unsaid, somehow the universe had still found a little talking Kanohi that could surprise him. Dumbstruck, his face broke into a grin, then a stifled giggle. "What the heck are you supposed to be?" he asked, touching the miniscule hand with a trembling finger. He laughed louder, fresh tears spilling from his eyes, but when his face contorted to chuckle they rolled harmlessly down his cheeks and off his face. His next words left him in the same breathless whisper that had left him as he died: "Aww, you're adorable." For a few seconds, Dorian Shaddix sat there, being cradled by a tiny, talking Kanohi, regaining the strength to live. When the spell broke, he tickled the hand lightly and slumped back against the liquor cabinet. "I woke up outside Kini-Nui, in an old man's arms," he continued. "Like I said, I don't remember much...but I remember Merror. He was there with me, when M-Ma...when the darkness came out of the Vault. Next thing I remember, he's holding me outside Kini-Nui a few feet smaller. I can fill in the blanks of what he must've done." He let out a long, shaky breath, and put on his weakest facsimile yet of his classic indifference. "I wish I'd known it was so hard to die. I w-woulda charged a lot more to kill people." -Tyler

IC: "Sure. Or we could start with meeting Joske. The Mark Bearers. Why not start with my childhood?" Dorian rolled his eyes. His restless left leg had begun to shake, foot vibrating against the headrest of Praggos' chair, heel striking the padding where the genius' head had started to wear upon the regal old leather. "After Xa-Koro..." Why didn't you just tell me, Cael? I would have done anything for you. I was the same kind of idiot as him. I was your monster. "I went back to Ta-Koro. Joske found me there and we made plans to follow Echelon." I kissed him. I wanted to kiss him so many times. I wish he would walk through the door right now so I could kiss him again. That was how people usually heralded another downward spiral in his life, wasn't it? Barging through the door uninvited? "I guess he still needed me for whatever he had in mind, but Joske didn't like sharing his plans - or wasn't good at explaining them. But I think he wanted someone else he was sure could handle Echelon. Or maybe he wanted someone to tell him that finishing Echelon himself was the right thing to do. I wasn't worried about it. Echelon wasn't the hardest fight I'd had in my life, and Joske..." I wanted to protect him. He was my hero. "...Joske had other plans. He needed to see Angelus, he needed to restock, so we split up and planned to leave Ta-Koro together. But I got attacked by Grokk, and after Grokk...went down, I tried to link up again with Joske. He'd left without me. So I followed him to Ko-Koro, wondering if he'd stop somewhere, wondering if there was a way we could link up. Idiot. Idiot! It would have been the easiest thing in the world, just use your Kakama and run back, idiot..." The chair vibrated more intensely. The wood creaked mournfully on the Fowadi's deck. "I don't know who got the drop on who," Dorian muttered, hand cradling his chin and fingers curling tightly into a fist beneath his Calix. "Joske, Echelon, whoever. But they were at the Temple of Peace, already fighting. Joske was losing - of course he was losing, why wouldn't he lose, he couldn't even light a match without..." A bloodied, dinted lighter jingled on its chain, a slender silver locket on a neck that had grown painfully tense. Dorian's tendons were tauter than rope. It bobbed, and the lighter jingled again. "I was two snowbanks -- three? -- back from the Temple. I had a clear shot on Echelon. I don't know if that was too far, if he had time to hear, or a, or a, or a Muaka or something, maybe it roared, I don't remember..." Maybe you screamed. Maybe you laughed. Maybe you told a stupid joke. Maybe your own rambling was too loud in your own head. Maybe there was blood, surging in your ears, and your brain shorted out at the thought of losing him. "I fired at Echelon--" The glass trembled in his hands. "--he was magnetic, I should have just remembered--" A shaky breath hissed through his pearl teeth. "--I didn't mean--" Please believe me. I didn't mean to. I would have taken them for you. And the glass slipped through prosthetic fingers that, for the first time in years, the Toa had lost all control of. He gulped in a breath, covering his eyes and temples to hide from the pity of the four Aggressors. "Just ##### hand me the bottle, okay man?" he asked Praggos. "Please?" The Toa of Ice did so, and with his left hand - his trigger finger was still failing to respond - he cupped the decanter and took a long drink. A bourbon-colored tear ran from the corner of his mouth, down his throat, and pooled on the top of the locket. "I buried him there. He's at the Temple of Peace, where nobody could touch him again. Echelon had already taken what he needed and left for the Vault, but I went to Ta-Koro. I wanted to...explain myself." I'm forever ##### explaining myself. "Merror and Agni were both there. I guess by then Utu was dead, huh? How'd it go? Did he suffer?" His throat bobbed again, and his leg was growing so increasingly erratic that the chair was starting to scuff the ground. "I hope not. Guess at least Joske didn't weigh as much as a Kane-Ra soaking wet, right? Probably sucked burying that tall glass of water." I'm sorry I left you too, big guy. You really were my friend. "When I got there, Tuara had--" By now, the tears were running freely, and he wiped them and drank with the same graceless motion. "--taken a hostage by the bridge. Her own brother. Come to find out, the two of them had...chopped a body. Someone one of them had killed, and scattered him across Ta-Koro. My Tuara." His teeth sank into his lip, attempting to cushion what was threatening to become an open, pathetic display of regret. "My Tuara. I keep asking who she could have learned a trick that gross from. It's so obvious, right? It's always been so obvious." My Tuara. You made me want to grow old, firefly. "She asked me to believe in her, but I...I couldn't. The Guard was on one side, she was on the other, and I just...I just wanted to get to the Vault. I tried to explain, but...she didn't even care. Maybe she was beyond caring. After all we've all been through, I don't blame her. Any of you? Blame her?" He gulped down another glass' worth of bourbon in a swallow, beginning to long for the days when this stuff was proving hazardous to his health. "By then, I was starting to worry that Echelon would get to the Vault. He had to be closing in, and I just...there was no time to explain about Joske, or the Vault, any of it. I couldn't even apologize. I wanted to, so so bad. Before someone..." Dug him up and saw the holes. "Heuani," he whispered. "That was the hardest fight of my life. Any of you ever fought something that dominant? Not something stronger than you, not smarter, but...dominant, like you would enjoy the way he beat you. Broke you. You're fighting two killers at the same time. I remember fighting so hard, and I remember really, really thinking how much I didn't want to die. Not there. Not in that cesspool." His right hand had returned to him, and he wrapped both hands numbly around the bottle the way he had wrapped himself over Joske's bleeding form, nurturing it, begging its forgiveness for draining them both dry. "Ever since Mangaia, I've been dreaming that I'm back there. But this time I die. And after that, everyone..." Everyone goes on just fine without me. When else is a good time to die? With you, Joske. That would have been perfect. I wanted to be dead with you. That's the only reason I went. "So I just went to the Vault. Alone. Joske never made it." Two-handed, he lifted the bottle up and tilted his head back with his longest drink yet. Tears ran from the corners of his eyes, and down the ridges of his Calix. "Like I said, Echelon. Not the hardest fight. It's pretty easy when you don't care about your own life, really, you just have to give as good as you get. I put as many bullets into him as I did Joske, I think. I don't really remember t-that much." He was starting to talk around the bottle, words blowing little whirlpools into the alcohol that was keeping him from breaking. "B-But I remember...the Vault...I stabbed him...and when I did it opened the..." His foot was kicking the chair now, like a convulsing body, the way Heuani must have choked the life from Cael - a long, powerful limb in an ungraceful death throe, kicking the chair and dragging marks into the floor. His other foot was twirling around the strap of his canvas bag, the lone anchor and chain between Dorian Shaddix and shooting off into madness. "He was inside," the would-be hero whispered hoarsely, his apology a garbled mouthful of whiskey and tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so ##### sorry." Why did you want it open, Joske? You had to have known. "I j-just wanted to do something right." -Tyler

IC: The Toa of Iron disentangled himself from Krayn and hoisted himself to sit on the lip of Praggos' liquor cabinet. It was a more precarious seat than the roomy perch he had occupied on the work desk, and he had to brace his foot on another piece of furniture in order to keep from sliding onto the ground. But it was a seat that put him closest to the corner of the room, with a better, full-on view of the room and tucked close to the bed. All present, either veterans in the island's military or accustomed to the seedier walks of life, recognized that the assassin had instinctively picked a seat with a bead on any entrance into the room that also provided cover from them - and, in their more personal experience with him, knew that the Toa of Iron's mood had once again flipped like a switch, and that this was the more genuine of his two emotional states lately. Dorian's foot rocked on the chair he braced on, restless in his half-seat. He picked up his own glass and drained it with a heavy breath. "Kay--" he breathed again. "You're my captive audience. Where do you want me to start?" -Tyler

CHARLIE MURPHY WHAT'S HAPPENING PARTNER DARKNESS, EVERYONE, DARKNESS HEY EVERYONE DARKNESS IS SPREADING -Tyler

IC: “Halt.” The voice clattered from deeper down the tunnel, before even the sickly green light could be seen in the tunnel’s depths. He hadn’t personally made its acquaintance before. The Piraka had gotten past the guardian and into the Vault, and Echelon’s deal had been with them. It was through that deal that he had acquired his mask. But still he had not yet seen the Vault’s erstwhile guardian. Only for a moment did he wonder how he had been detected so quickly; the automaton’s glow cast the empty sockets of its Arthron into harsh relief. “Identify yourself.” “Eisen.” “Your name—” It chattered. “—was not requested. Identify yourself.” “I am Eisen.” The Toa elaborated approaching the Abettor without haste or hesitation. “I serve the Makuta. As Echelon did.” “Did he?” Its mask rotated, first left, then right, then settling on its Sanok. “Makuta did not think so.” “If Makuta thought not, he didn’t. Echelon fought for Makuta but served only himself. I fought for Echelon but I serve the Makuta.” “Perhaps.” The Abettor considered this, its cylinder rotating smoothly with a click-click-click. The threat of what could happen if it did not like the answer was not elaborated upon, but the crystal forearm halfway to readiness made the point nicely. “But how are we to know?” “How did you know that the Piraka were worthy to enter?” Eisen challenged, facing the machine squarely and without expression. “Or Echelon himself? Clearly, Abettor, your judgement is not infallible if you allowed him through.” At that the forearm came to readiness fully, aimed unerringly at the Toa’s chest. But it did not fire. Click, click. “Perhaps. You worked for the Necromancer. The more reason for us not to allow you.” “I will have an audience with my Lord.” “Only if we allow it.” “Then stop me.” The Toa of Iron spread his arms wide, meeting its empty Sanok steadily. His shield upon his back, without the distance to dodge or duck if even he had the speed. The Abettor was fast, and by his estimate it bore within its body six Kanohi. A Sanok and an Arthron, for certain, and he had seen more. Too quickly to identify them all perhaps but there was no doubt that as he stood it could kill him. “But you haven’t, and I have identified myself already. So make your judgement, Abettor. Shall I pass?” The cylinder rotated, slower this time, and settled upon a Kanohi Rode. “Do you serve Makuta?” “Yes.” “And if we refuse you passage?” “I will fight. And Makuta will have one fewer servant.” A long, fulminating second passed before its mask rotated again to the Arthron and the guardian stepped aside. It did not speak again, seeming almost irritated with its own decision. If a machine could feel such a thing. Eisen nodded to it in acknowledgement and lowered his arms, striding quietly passed it and into the Vault. Ah, Necromancer. It had been a long time, long enough for the stench to come and go. But there still was no doubt about the body’s identity, even maskless and speared upon a blade. He had known Echelon to be dead, of course; else he would have made contact long ago. Knowing what he had intended, whom he would fight, Eisen had known that the Toa of Magnetism had perished mere days after their retreat from Ko-Koro. Only the means had been in question until now. There was an irony in this. The body of the Necromancer left alone and wasted. “Echelon, you fool.” “Fool,” the darkness whispered back. The word rolled not off a tongue, but from the very air around Eisen; it enveloped him, taking his measure, and he felt a mix of tension and fear overtake him. It lasted only a moment, but the alien nature of his dread struck him; he was a veteran mercenary, after all, and knew himself to be far more capable than the dead Toa of Magnetism on the ground. Wasn’t he? “Echelon was a fool,” it mused. “A schemer. A grasper. He chased eternal life into an early grave...but his Legacy--” Eisen got the feeling that the darkness was almost enjoying its wordplay “--lies here for all to see. He has become the lock to my Vault. It may not have been his wish to the letter...but he lies in state here, all the same. A more noble end than Heuani or Ronkshou desired for his petty chase. A chase you followed him on. Was it not, Eisen?” As lesser Toa once quailed before the Abettor, so now did Eisen resist the urge to quail in turn. Steely though his nerves were, he still felt the teeth of his master’s trap. “I did.” There was no point in denying it, even if the feeling in the very pit of his stomach sought desperately for a way to do just that. To distance himself, however far he could, from the deceased Dark Toa. But that was cowardice, and not only cowardice but a lie. And one his master would see through in an instant should he even attempt it. “I did, my Lord. Not for his goal but for how his goal furthered mine.” “And mine, my Lord, has always been to further yours. In your absence I did as I thought best. Have I failed in that aim?” “So dutiful,” the darkness chuckled. The sound reverberated in Eisen’s own throat and chest; even Echelon’s mouth, beset upon by the decay he had spent his life both fleeing and courting, seemed twisted into a ghoulish sneer at his master’s humor. “Breathe easy, Eisen. The conquest of Ko-Koro was shortsighted, as was the handling of Zaktan and his mutts...but you are not here to answer for Echelon’s crimes. He does so himself, here, before your eyes.” Eisen’s gaze finally left his former general’s corpse and trained on the darkness around him. It was deeper and colder than any night Eisen had ever known, but he felt the chill and fear ebbing from him; seemingly at his master’s assurance, his body found comfort in the Void of his master’s presence as he realized his loyalty would not be met with punishment. Still, even though his fealty had been gauged, the shadows in front of him remained too dense for even his trained eyes to pierce. As was the case with many before him, he found himself yearning to know the secrets of the Vault beyond the petty trinkets that adorned Echelon’s grave...but within the gaping maw that had once been the Vault’s featureless door, the shadows only grew more inscrutable. “You are here because, despite his failings, Echelon proved as resourceful as Vidar, as intimidating as Ronkshou, and as...pliable as Heuani. He proved a very individual herald,” the darkness whispered, choosing his compliments carefully for his much-derided servant. “Once, I would have found that trait undesirable in a lieutenant, but it occurs to me now we may all have much to gain from some more individuality.” Eisen did not fail to notice his master’s use of the plural. “Do not tell me the state of the island, for this I know,” it continued. “Tell me what you plan to do about it with what resources remain to you.” He also did not fail to note when the use of the plural had stopped. “Echelon misused the resources at our disposal. The Brotherhood, particularly, may have been heretics but they were useful heretics. And easily kept in line. The former denizens of Xa-Koro who had been embedded in the Sanctum Guard as well are largely gone.” Eisen shrugged, slightly, within the darkness. He breathed a little easier, not relaxed but no longer quite so wary. “I tell you not because you do not know but to reason through my own plans.” “Despite that I have a couple, perhaps more, of Echelon’s former lieutenants still. Individuals of skill and of insight. Agrona, particularly, has been enamored of the Kanohi she took from Oreius Maru.” The Toa of Iron rubbed his chin, then waved his hand slightly. “These are small issues, of course. My point is only that for now— for the moment only— I have fewer warm bodies at my command than I might like. But for that, Ko-Koro remains weak. Another strike there is not necessary nor would it produce useful results.” “The best place to undermine, I think, is Po-Koro. Their last Akiri’s choices are still being felt. For their might, for their expansion, I think there is a commensurate impact in seeing them fail. All the better if we can turn the Koros against each other anew. Dissent is my plan, my Lord. While I rally the believers who still follow your path I will remind the Koros of their hubris.” “Ah, Eisen...Echelon’s thinking has rubbed off on you,” the darkness cooed. “The Matoran will never turn their knives on each other. Already, word of my return disseminates; it whispers on the wind, and in the howls of the Rahi. If their bonds did not break in my absence, they will not break now - and there are those who will hear the ambience for what it is, and return to my fold. If you wish to outlive your predecessors, you must not overreach - and if you must win petty victories, do not obsess over them to the point of missing opportunity.” Eisen recognized, somehow, his master’s own twisted variety of mentorship; it was meant to mock, of course, a cruel pastiche of a Turaga’s wisdom and the fraternity of Toa, but he could also recognize the truth in the darkness’ words. “The Toa Maru will not abandon the trophies of the Keeping Place easily - and they, unlike their charges, have frayed since their hollow victory. Confer with Agrona. Tell her to prepare for them. The Rahkshi will suffice for harrying the Matoran. Target their technology; remind them of the perils of unchecked creation. As for you…” The voice grew quiet, and the shadows around Eisen seemed to roil. He pitied the subject of whoever his master’s next words would involve in his marching orders. “Find Zaktan. Make…” Eisen could feel his skin crawl at his master’s tone, yet he was just capable of rescinding his pity at the thought of the snarling leader of the Piraka. Whatever the darkness had planned for Zaktan, it was more than deserved. “...amends. Go.” Eisen bowed his head and made to depart; four steps in, and he froze in his tracks, as if his body and soul had anticipated his master would call to him again. They were not kept waiting. “Eisen,” the darkness called from behind him, daring him to turn and face it again. He did not do so. “You will never see this Vault again. Henceforth, we will discuss your chores in the cathedral, as Heuani did before you. His old quarters will be yours as well.” The darkness rumbled with laughter again, clearly savoring every word since its sojourn into Nowhere; it had found amusement in almost everything, albeit of a kind foreign to Eisen or anyone he had ever known. Most likely, his master derived pleasure from the idea of the ascetic Toa of Iron attempting to find solace in the room where Heuani had slaked his lusts, surrounded only by the phantoms of all the Shadow Toa’s sins. “Should you desire anything else...you need only say.” “Yes, my Lord,” was all Eisen could say to that as he bowed his head. It was a long march back as he mulled his duties over, but his master’s parting promise tugged at the edges of his mind - and, for what was perhaps the first time in his life, the mercenary began to truly feel temptation. -Tyler

IC: "You perfect, noble idiot, you went to save Ko-Koro didn't you? So that's how Sky broke her brain." Dorian was squeezing Krayn's shoulder gingerly, still locked up in the arm that the De-Toa was patting him with. His legs curved a sinuous path around Krayn's waist even as his mouth tightened in displeasure. "Look at all of us, taking injuries, needing to recuperate. When did we all get so old? Here, sailor, you carry me over to the glasses--" He looked over at Dehkaz, whose pointed references to Dorian's misadventures at Mangaia he had thus far avoided. "--And I'll tell you everything that happened. As honestly as I know how. But once I start going I'm keeping the bottle. Fair warning." -Tyler

IC: As always, he was a salve for Mata Nui's most troubled soul. His dark green eyes, swimming with mysteries and old aches that only Dorian could solve; his strong jawline, as chiseled and resolute as Stannis or Reordin Maru; the firm, hard line of his mouth, begging to be kissed and always on the edge of a smile only the star-crossed Toa of Iron could bring out...in that instant, as he walked through the door, the twin burdens of his atonement and his failures seemed to lessen on Dor's shoulders, and his eyes burned with new life - bonfires of a blue so iridescent that even his Mark could never evoke. "Krayn." The word was sweeter than chocolate as it left Dor's lips. I thought I would never see you again. And the young Toa, forever straddling the line between his decent nature and his chaotic temper, leaped from the table into the arms of the only sanctuary he had ever known. He rocked from left to right, arms tight around the De-Toa's shoulders, and heard a pained rasp of breath that Dor took to mean that somehow, unbelievably, Krayn had missed him too. "Things have been so ##### up since we split up. Praggos gave Skyra a brain tumor. I'm sorry, I tried to stop him, just..." Dorian inhaled deeply and cradled the former Gukko Force lieutenant's head, his handsome face burrowed into the nape of his neck. "Nnnn. You always smell so...competent. What's up, Dehkaz." -Tyler

IC: "Wussup, girls!" -Tyler

IC: "I think I left my wallet back at the Saretas' store, but I'll try and parkour on the way back there. That worth ten widgets?" -Tyler

IC: "Well, as an expert in damaging people's brains, it doesn't usually work like that." His eyes darted from Skyra to Praggos, then back. "Do you want me to help you cut the line to see Cael? I'm not saying Praggos isn't a genius - a creepy, touchy genius - but Cael's a Toa of Water. And for my money there's no one better on the island at injuries below the surface. She'd see you in a heartbeat if I asked." He cocked his head at the Toa of Air. "People need you at a hundred percent, Sky." -Tyler

IC: "To add to our commitment regarding the monsters' staves," Jasik interjected, circling from one of his twin sister's shoulders to the other, "we've been performing tests on their armor. When repelling attacks on Iki, my Soulswords and I took the opportunity to test their armor for ourselves. A focused Soulsword, projected by any Soulsword here, is more than capable of cutting through their armor, but it seems repellent to most forms of energy or attack otherwise." He leaned over the real-time Sighteye map, patting the space beside one of the Menti's hands in thought. As he stared down at Odaiba, a scar peeked from the edge of his collar, proof that he too had learned the merits of the Rahkshi's defenses up close. "Doubtless the Toroshu Kilanya could tell you the same thing," he added with a knowing wink. "What's more, they don't seem to retain the same power as the staves. We've been accumulating a stockpile from Iki, but what tests we've performed indicate it will be hard to reshape." He looked up at Relisai again, then back to Morie; it was on the Plangori Toroshu where his gaze lingered. "If you'd like to put your own clan to work on it, Toroshu, we can see to that." He quieted to let his sister continue. -Tyler

IC: Desde absorbed the details of the Akiri's home with curiosity. As a princess, and later Chojo, she'd technically had license to roam anywhere in the Palace - anywhere in the Kentoku Archipelago, if she'd really wished it. She got a little wistful, thinking of all the times she'd been dutiful in not evoking her privilege. Yusanora had wanted her hidden away from the ills of the world...or maybe she had just wanted her own reputation salvaged, but her reasons were beyond them all now. What mattered was that she had missed the same childhood full of exploration and exotic sights that her sister and Hanako (where was she?) had enjoyed - so, viewed from that lens, she had a wonderful time being guided through Akiri Hahli's home and office. Still riding off the high of making the Commodore's aura flash with embarrassment, she sat down at Yumi's right. It was odd to think of herself as Yumi's right hand, the only place she had wanted to be all her life, and it was a numbing experience to have finally attained that seat here, in this alien world so far from home. All she could hope was that one day, her sister would be this willing to show Desde her love in Sado, too. The two of them ruling together... She smiled shyly and hugged one of her knees, parking her sharp chin atop it as Yumiwa and Hahli shared tea orders. A teal-and-black armored Matoran who had been in Hahli's retinue went to fetch them their boba, which Hahli explained to an excited Yumi had been another example of cultural exchange. Some of the Ringti had introduced the tea to the Ga-Matoran markets, and it was now in turn being served to the Rora as her first drink in a new world. It was kind of exciting. When Desde was asked if she would like a drink, she thought for a second and then blurted out: "May I please have a beer?" .:My Chojo, is that perhaps the wisest...:. Desdemona cut off Masa with a mental crunch, and within a minute she was happily sipping on her very first Mata Nuian alcohol. Yumi looked a little shocked at her rebellious display, but there were many reasons why Hanako used to affectionately call her Hurricane Desde. When Hahli wasn't looking, she licked the foam from her lips quickly and decided to focus on negotiations. "Now, as to your second point," Hahli continued after a good-natured debate between the two leaders on coconut-papaya versus mango, "prolonged Dasakan settlement. Commodore Ayiwah and I have discussed detaching Marines as guides as her crew explored various parts of the island. One of your own clanmates, Umbraline Sinshi, has expressed interest in joining the Ga-Koro Marines already, and from what I understand one of your warriors was a big help in reclaiming Ko-Koro from the cultists of Makuta. So we would be honored to have you plant roots here in Ga-Wahi, first. But I have to warn you that as we do, Menti - like Sinshi and Dakte - are going to want to explore the island. They're going to run into dangers. Some are like what Menti probably face in the Kentoku Archipelago, but some are unique to us here on Mata Nui. As your people spread out, they're going to have to adapt the way we have." IC: "Sin-shiiii! Daijunoooo!" The Toa of Earth had finally appeared for work, late as always, trying not to cough from the scalding her throat had received. In her haste, she had tried to chug coffee that was a little too hot, a little too fast; her lips burned and she greedily sucked in the salty, cool air of Ga-Koro in a fruitless quest for relief. Nonetheless, she looked giddy to see the new faces, and she bounced up to the assembled Dasaka with her usual wide smile on her face. "Toa Leah!" she greeted with a respectful salute. The arm lowered in a flourish to wrap around Sinshi's shoulders, and Whitehot braced herself against her Menti for support. "Sinshi, hiiii. Hi, new Menti! --Hey, Daijuno." Her voice lowered, conscious of the normally-gregarious, lecherous Dashi's glum look. "Is everything okay? You seem down this morning." -Tyler

IC: The Dasaka? Reo had received a handful of reports from Leah about the Dasaka, and she had mentioned them once or twice as the Toa Maru reunited to take back Ko-Koro. It was fortunate they'd landed in Ga-Koro. Akiri Hahli was as shrewd a leader as any on Mata Nui, one of the chosen Matoran who had proved herself a true heir to the Turaga, and there was nobody better suited to get them acquainted with the idea of Toa as heroes than Leah. An advance party, here to learn about Mata Nui, would do well to spend time in Ga-Koro? But a fleet? As refugees? Had there been some kind of war or attack? Just how many was Mata Nui expecting to take on? Was there another fleet coming after that? As much as Reordin wanted to say it wasn't his concern, or theirs, he doubted the other Akiri weren't assembling their advisers similarly to Tarkahn. And...it was probably nothing, but that foreboding feeling...similar to the one observing Rahi patterns in Ko-Wahi, out hunting for Joske... "Fair enough." His mouth tightened apologetically at Skri. "I'll follow you." -Tyler

IC: Up to this point, Dorian had visibly started to relax a little bit in his own skin; still weary-looking and uncertain, his smile had nonetheless begun to glow with the energy he'd used to bring into rooms, however unpredictable that energy may have been. He'd even opened his mouth to launch into his story at Praggos' gentle prodding, but it hung open for a second, eyes glancing between him and the Toa of Air nursing the bottle. The fingers currently reaching for a cigarette had frozen, clutching at the pack. His voice had grown quiet and strained, a telltale sign of the cocktail of emotions that had guided him for years like a missile. "Brain injury?" -Tyler

IC: Reo's eyes flared in impatience. He had opened his mouth to respond to Skrihen when he heard a call for him by name. That irritated him; there had only ever been a finite number of places where he could sit and think for himself in Ko-Koro, and that number had only begun to dwindle as the weeks had gone by. Leah would have called that sort of thing brooding - Mata Nui knew Skri loved to - but he didn't think it was the worst thing in the world to ask for a little peace and solitude. He appreciated a break from being so charismatic all the time; he had no idea how Stannis was capable of it. Oh. Right. He took a long drink and steadied himself on the bar. He recognized the voice as one of the Toa Kalta, and listening to the crunch of ice and snow on the dilapidated stairs, there was another waiting in the wings. "In here," he called back, with a sidelong look at the Toa of Plant Life. "Yeah? Am I needed at the Sanctum?" -Tyler

YES -Tyler

You can just fill out the form in the profiles topic and PM it to me. Remember that you have to have two PCs from other players along for the ride, but that hasn't been a problem so far. Good to see you back. -Tyler

Reminder that you have until tomorrow at midnight to submit your forts in Zakaz under the grace period! After that, steal one or get your mooks to build one! -Tyler

IC: Dorian shrugged, finally relinquishing the grip he'd been applying to the table (he'd left gouges in the wood) to hold his chin. "I dunno about that. I'm still here, aren't I?" -Tyler

IC: "You know I made the words 'bourbon, neat' the most popular on Mata Nui a few years ago? It was them, Mark Bearer, and insanity defense." -Tyler

IC: The bottle was promptly tossed again to the woman who needed it most. -Tyler

IC: "Who had their heart pulled out that time? Did I dream that?" -Tyler

IC: Dorian raised his hand up, the implication clear without a word from him. -Tyler

IC: "Ewwww." The two young Toa walked shoulder to shoulder into Praggos' office. They were the spartan accommodations that one would come to expect from Praggos. Most Mark Bearers remembered his bent for biological research and his cutting edge weapon designs. In another life, he'd even been tempted to commission one or two. Now he had a duffel bag full of weaponry, more than he knew what to do with, and though he could probably coax Praggos out of retirement it was probably safer not to get his mind back down that line of thought. Given a few years, he might have found his own path to engineering the Marks anyway. Now that was a ##### up thought. Dorian kicked his bag of guns under the work desk and, as he'd always done, decided to park himself atop furniture usually considered inappropriate for polite sitting. His eyes bounced back and forth between Skyra and Praggos. "Is there anyone else here I know? Naona? Tillian? Dehkaz? How's Krayn? Is he getting enough sleep? Is he sleeping alone?" -Tyler