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About Krayzikk

  • Birthday 05/09/1997

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    New England

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  1. IC: "I wouldn't be too confident. But maybe." Krayn shrugged, then grimaced. He massaged his shoulder slightly, focusing ultrasonic vibrations into the underlying tissue. "Do you happen to remember how to find Ga-Koro's courier office from here?" IC: "I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm only worried about her meeting a native."
  2. IC: "The Toa?" The Dasaka drummed a finger on her leg thoughtfully. "Precious little, I admit. I've observed them a little since I arrived. Before then all I knew were rumors from the first expedition. They seem much like you or I physically. Kanohi of course, again. Their powers however strike me as simply unbelievable." @Johnny Blocksville
  3. IC: The Sentinel irregular (would that be the way to put it, perhaps?) nodded, without any need to reinforce the point. He just gestured for Skyra to lead the way wherever she intended to go but his former Commander never got the chance. One of the very aliens she wished to speak with appeared before them and from there... From there things went downhill. Not through any fault of the alien's— this Karoru— but because Krayn had seen that look on Skyra's face before. And more ******ing heard that note in her voice. It wasn't impossible to mistake the sound for something else, not to most. But for his sins he was a Toa of Sonics and the sound, the exact nature of her inflection, was unmistakable. Immediately his mind was somewhere else, on a small piece of Ga-Koro territory off the coast of Le-Wahi making a decision that enough was enough. Maaata Nui preserve them. "My eyes, your eyes, all the eyes in the world won't stop her from hitting her brain off the inside of her head." He muttered to Praggos out of the corner of his mouth, too quietly to overhear, before he added a little louder; "I don't think anything bad can happen between you and Dehkaz, Skyra, why don't you escort Miss Karoru that way? Praggos can keep an eye on me and vice versa." IC: "I see." The Umbraline Menti bit her lip softly, trying not to show her mixed feelings. Just a little relief that some of her family, at least, had evacuated. Despite herself she felt a little uncomfortable about which members had for certain made it. Undoubtedly her mother had if her grandmother had, but... "Would it inconvenience you to help me look for them, Sato?" @otter@Snelly@Lady Takanuva
  4. The Rahkshi will carry over. There might be some unusual interactions with Makuta being back under the right circumstances, but the Rahkshi and its allegiance will carry over.
  5. IC: "I'm happy to oblige." The Dasaka said easily, rising from her own chair. Her full height was less than Ela's, shorter and more compact. A crystal short sword at her side spoke of a weapon for self defense, a notion reinforced by the friendly looking Hau she wore. To spar with the woman would reveal as much to Kiyaku as vice versa, and knowledge was always important. She gestured for Ela to follow and walked quietly out of the bar, heading deeper into the port town to find a place suitable for their practice. The grounds near the lighthouse seemed their best option, so she headed in that direction. @Johnny Blocksville
  6. IC: "It's not your diplomacy I'm concerned about." The De-Toa shrugged and tapped a finger thoughtfully. "But whether the forward party has been reasonable or not, these people are refugees. Refugees who supposedly have psychic powers. They're scared and probably a little desperate. That could be a bad mix. I think it would be better that no one go alone for now, don't you?" IC: "My family." Sinshi answered, substituting "family" for "mother" at the last moment. "Do you know if they were in the flotilla?" @Snelly@otter
  7. IC: "Akiri Hahli undoubtedly does already. She probably has informed Akiris Jaller and Kongu." The Onu-Matoran shrugged slightly, frowning. "The Dasaka may not know in as many words what has happened, but anyone they talk to will likely understand very quickly. I would expect most of Ga-Koro to know before the day is out, and it will spread from there." He paused. "Once I've answered your questions, sir, I'll report to Commander Onepu for any discipline he- and you- feel proper for my negligence and absence." @Geardirector@sunflower@Razgriz
  8. IC: Water. No, to be fair, the ocean specifically. It wasn’t that he feared it. Krayn had spent long enough in Ga-Wahi to be able to swim just fine even if he hadn’t known when he arrived. But he did have a certain wary respect for it after a piratical Toa held his head underwater long enough that things were a little fuzzy. That sort of desperation, the feeling of being able to take in only water without being able to stop yourself from trying, had been wholly unique in his life and he hadn't liked it. He took steps after that, during his time in the village, to make sure it never happened again. But that wasn't the thought foremost on his mind. No, foremost on his mind was the veritable fleet of crystalline ships that had arrived on Ga-Koro's shores. That was... Troubling. He took the spyglass away from his eye and pocketed it, listening to the chatter of planning and orders. And, of course, watching his old boss take off ahead. It was shaping up to be one of those afternoons. "I'll go on ahead." Krayn commented to the ship's captain, reminding himself not to add 'sir' at the end. It wasn't an easy habit to break, but he'd learn. He tightened the strap around his chest, securing the long package on his back tightly to him, and strapped to his wrist one of his new accessories. He checked the fit and the clasps while he added; "The Dasaka are supposed to be kind of prickly, and I don't think Skyra really wants to find a new body. Again." His launcher, he knew, wouldn't quite reach the same mast that Skyra's had. Her jump had brought her closer and he had no intention of trying to match her acrobatics, even if both his arms had been in working order. He could handle that, though; water was a problem he'd already worked to solve. He planted his right hand on the railing and vaulted, dropping towards the water below, and his boots met its surface; but the water did not break. Concentric circles rippled rapidly outwards but for only a moment before he pushed off again, the water giving but not breaking beneath his foot, and he repeated the process moving ahead in first one then two then three bounds before the hook on his wrist shot out and pulled him up and away. His way might not have been quite so flashy but it got him there almost as quickly; his boots met the same deck as Skyra only a few moments after she did. "Might be best not to go on ahead by yourself." He said simply, letting the hook reel itself in and unbuckling the device from his wrist. "Don't know how they might respond to some things." @sunflower@Snelly IC: "That's them." Sinshi confirmed, nodding her head to her cousin. "I haven't fought them personally, but Whitehot explained the nature of Makuta's creatures after a near miss with a Parakuka." A thought, long processing, finally registered. "... Sato, did you see..." @otter
  9. IC: "From what I have seen, and what I have heard, your 'Toa' deal primarily in the physical. The Skakdi seem much the same, though even more directly. I cannot speak so specifically to what your people can do but I can see, clearly, that you wear a Kanohi the same as I. Though I admit I do not recognize the design." The Dasaka gestured at her own face to illustrate the point, then more generally at herself. "My people deal with the mind. Of the five Imperial disciplines, the first every Dasaka possesses. Even our Dashi can receive thoughts on the mental plane, though they cannot send them." "Of the other four every Menti is trained in one. Some are trained in two, and those that are trained in three are awarded the title of Battlemaster. To know four is only ancient, and perhaps apocryphal, history. Two of those discplines deal with the mind, and two with how the mind shapes the world." She gestured to the Lesterin. "I can see, quite clearly, that you are physically stronger than I am. Not that I am unfit, but in pure strength you would win and win handily. I doubt that would interest you. I can offer instead the chance to face my own discipline in the safety of a bout. All the tools at your disposal versus the tools at mine, a chance for you to learn something of how a Dasaka may fight before anything truly vital is at stake." @Johnny Blocksville
  10. IC: "That depends on which strength." Genuine amusement glimmered in her eyes as 'Yumi' set down her glass. With the same hand she gestured casually between them. "I'm sure on my crew you could find those who could provide you with a purely physical challenge. My own strengths, alas, do not run in that direction. Not that I would not be willing to oblige you. You simply would be bored, I think." "But if you would not be too frustrated by the additional dimension, I suspect you've never had an opportunity to spar with a Dasaka." She shrugged. "With my own discipline in play, I think I could provide you at least a novel challenge." @Johnny Blocksville
  11. IC: "You trying to imply we're late, Rynekk?" Krayn stepped off the gangplank with a little less enthusiasm, perhaps, but no slower than his erstwhile commander. It still didn't feel right not to be wearing his coat— the tailor was quick, but not a miracle worker— but the long wrapped bundle slung over his right shoulder was taking just as much getting used to. A few other odds and ends, his other spoils, bulged out pouches along its exterior and his left revolver holster had migrated under his left shoulder for the time being. The documentation, limited though it was, of his irregular new position was tucked into his belt. The sun had gotten low in the sky indeed, but it seemed like most of the familiar faces (and their newest sailor) were still congregated on the deck. Including the man he had already called out, something cushioned by the smile in his voice to a joke rather than a complaint. "Some of us had time to leave and come back. That mask isn't wearing out, is it?" @Void Emissary@sunflower
  12. IC: "The most vivid memories are like that, I think. Tactile. The senses stick with us the most, not the facts. If I think of home I think of warm rice wine, the smell of the coast, the feel of Imperial dragons clinking in my hand." 'Yumi' closed her eyes, allowing the memories to flow through her. "It's why Willhammers have a tell, I think. Some sort of sensation through which we interpret the uniqueness of their presence." She opened her eyes again and smiled. "Your unfinished business. Should you need assistance, I would be happy to give it. An act of service is a good way to make a friend, no? And in a new land, we all need the friends that we can make." @Johnny Blocksville
  13. IC: "Not at all." Kiyaku smiled, raising her glass in casual salute to the Lesterin. "I consider it a privilege to have met you and learn of your people, as well. So few of us had made the journey here before now. I expect you will be seeing much more of us now." "What do you remember of your home? We never knew where the Chaotic Six came from, and only discovered your island in pursuing them." @Johnny Blocksville
  14. IC: The Onu-Matoran nodded, pulling out a chair and settling into it. "Major Leli I'm sure you know. This, sir, is Kellin Santos." He indicated both of his fellows in turn, posture rigid and formal. What he had to say must be said but every word came with reluctance. "Three, perhaps four, months ago the three of us were approached by a Ta-Matoran that informed us there was something we needed to do. Something on Mata Nui's behalf. Six of us in total were told to meet at the Kini Nui. From there we were brought to a place I have never seen on any map. Without guidance, I think, no one could ever find their way back there." "We were transported to the Kentoku Archipelago, there to solve the riddle of the Vault. It protected a... Sort of portal system. A more robust version of what brought us there. But when we unlocked it on the other side, it..." The Ussalmatoran steeled himself and looked at his Akiri frankly. "Makuta isn't dead. And opening the Portal let him out." @Geardirector@sunflower@Razgriz
  15. IC: "Tutto pronto, Marchesa?" Her left gunner had just finished helping her strap in, and Arabella felt the resistance if she tried to move. She didn't push past it. That would have made the machine around her move, and inside Thunderchild's belly that would be... An issue. But the resistance proved that the intricate series of buckles and loops about her person were doing their job. A strap about her middle secured her in place and provided her anchor; down both legs and her left arm were a series of braces that locked her limbs into position relative to the cords and anchors attached near each of her major joints. Not very comfortable, and even on standby inside the hangar her enclosure was steadily getting hotter. A thick layer of ballistic glass gave her a view into the hangar beyond, the other machines being prepared, and she wondered if they were feeling the same things. Maybe not to the same extent. While the machines were all unique, all arguably prototypes, she had questions about the very interface she controlled. Arabella had championed it herself. She believed it was perfect for her Damocles, and she knew she could control it. The trouble, and why she knew her Kingdom was planning to do away with it in future colossi, was how much work it was. Simply operating it was taxing, let alone the weeks of practice to learn to control it as fluidly as it was capable of. And she had never actually performed the drop they were about to undertake. The concept worked, of course, but that little niggling doubt remained. It was all technology that was so new. Had it all been tested properly? Would it work properly for her unique colossi, every one of them must wonder? So on, and so on, and so on. "Si," The Marchesa answered simply, forcing confidence into the simple answer. It would work or it wouldn't. If it got her to the ground successfully she would handle the rest. "Al tuo post ora." Her gunner nodded and gave the modified version of the bow she was due. To require such formalities all the time was impractical, to say the least of its ridiculousness. So the compromise had been struck to allow them their formality without interfering with their duties. The young man hurried to one of the two hatches behind her and she heard the door slam and ratchet shut. Whatever problems she might face, she knew, were mild compared to theirs. The descent for them would be fairly cold. And those reinforced doors were meant for her safety, not theirs. A risk, and all too likely sacrifice, that they accepted without reservation. She trusted them to do their jobs, and they her to be worthy of their efforts. Trust that had taken time and training to build. And now it was time to put it to work. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, herself following the last few checks that she needed to perform. Her right arm was relatively unencumbered to enable her to access the emergency release she now felt for before returning her hand to hilt-shaped grip that served in place of a right wrist brace. At the one minute morning she softly, under her breath and in her native tongue, began to pray. At ten seconds she opened her eyes. And at one the Damocles dropped. Despite the way the system pulled at her limbs she kept the machine's own limbs straight, avoiding the possibility of interfering with another, larger falling colossus. Moments after the drop began the gaseous envelopes inflated, the sudden resistance driving the brace into her midsection. But relief washed over her at the mere fact that they worked. The rest, as she had thought, was up to her. Damocles struck earth like a mighty comet and as its legs bent so too did hers; giving ground, rather than keeping rigid, absorbed much of the impact though the force was still enough to make her feet ache. The cratered ground became visible as it smoothly rose in sync with her, the mighty avatar of her will stretching piston and valve to do as she bid. Her left arm rose bringing with it Damocles' machine gun, aimed at the fog ahead preemptively. Lasciali venire. A flick of her right wrist triggered the pneumatically deployed sword to swing out and lock into place, ready and lethal. La mia lama ha sete.
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