Krayzikk

Correct! As half-suspected, my grand two week period of productivity didn't properly materialize. Unfortunately the demands of life wanted that open time too, and I had some family matters that needed time and energy. Then I had my last term of university, preparation to graduate, and so on, and so on. However I have no pressing time commitments at this moment, and I'm pulling together my posting agenda. I'm a touch rusty so it may not go as quickly as I'm accustomed to but I know that I owe the wrapup for the Darkwalk, for the Train Heist, and personal posts in at least the Onu-Wahi topic. If something hasn't made it onto my list feel free to remind me. I aim to have at least one of these done before Monday, more if my brain can blow off the cobwebs quickly enough.

Christmas! In the spirit of which, I'd like to thank everyone for their continued presence and involvement. I have a full two weeks off from scholarly responsibilities, which I intend to use to catch up as thoroughly as I can— ideally completely. I'm not going to bet anything I can't afford to lose on it, I've learned better, but that's the goal. I hope you all have a good holiday, if it's one you celebrate!

Hi Larry Berry, and welcome! I'm sorry you've been waiting, but this time of year is a little busy even without other things going on. I haven't forgotten that looking this over is on my to-do list, I just haven't quite gotten there. I'll do so as soon as I can, and I'll message you back by PM. Same goes for everyone else; one day I won't have to ask your patience, but we're not quite there yet. I'll be getting things caught up as quickly as I can.

IC: "Then a garden. A garden, and a..." The Matoran's mouth quirked suddenly, lopsidedly; the comic indignity of their arrival warring— just for a moment— with the severity of his tale. "A fountain. The Dasaka have an imperial culture. The uncle of their empress is— was— the Imperial Executioner, and five foreigners and a member of their lowest caste had just appeared from thin air and landed in the fountain of his private garden. It got his attention." Tarnok began to rub at his eyes, his lack of sleep beginning to set in while he tried to organize his thoughts, but stopped abruptly. In front of three Toa, two of them Maru, one their leader, and one his former commander he refused to show that weakness. Not when he was laying bare his gravest sin and how it had come to be. His spine straightened and his eyes focused, the meandering path of his recollection finding once more the clear path through his memories. "Mata Nui was supposed to awaken when Makuta was defeated. These portals, they're... They connect distant lands, but also they connect the Great Spirit. Maybe they're like nerves, or blood vessels, or sites of power— I don't know. But without them, we were told, Mata Nui couldn't wake. Not properly. We told Lord Rayuke about the Vault's riddle, and he recognized it. One of his ancestors had found an ancient shrine on Mt. Koshiki, a volcano, with a description that was a clear twin to the Vault's." "It talked about a lock, and a key, and the right time of night. Metal is extremely, extremely rare on the archipelago. They have but one blade made of it, and it belongs to the Executioner. It was supposed to be the key." He reached down to his belt for a knife, but not one he was familiar with— Sulov at least could tell the difference. He had seen the certainty, from weight to shape, with which Tarnok knew the blades on his belt. This one was unfamiliar to him, and it was clear why as soon as he lay the crystalline weapon on the bar in front of him. "The Dasaka use forged crystal like this, instead. It seemed familiar when I met a few of their people at the Kini-Nui, before we left. I couldn't put my finger on it then. It was from the Hive Battle." "I only saw it at a distance, but that Dark Toa's sword was made of the same material." He stared at the blade in front of him, then shook his head. "That should have been a bigger clue. I assume that sword was the key here. We reached the shrine, inserted the key, and..." "And Makuta came out." Shame burned in his voice, no matter how flatly he delivered the words. "Makuta came out, and he brought... Did you ever read the after-action reports? About what happened here, when you fought Makuta." @Void Emissary@EmperorWhenua@Emzee

IC: "I'm happy to say it isn't my responsibility to know." Krayn's smile faded a little, thinking back on the events of the last day and a half. The refugee fleet, that freak that attacked Leah Maru... "If Dehkaz has a specific plan, he hasn't told me. I can read between the lines a little, though, and I don't think he's planning to wait for Makuta to strike. I think he's looking to go pick a fight in the Kentoku Archipelago." "Wish I knew a little more about how he returned, avoid making that mistake again. I'd be happier, too, if anyone had any idea where the Nightfall guys scattered to. Only Echelon's off the board."

IC: "Fools have their uses, too. From what I've seen, I doubt this village would have pressed charges if he'd been completely ineffective." Kiyaku rubbed lightly at her chin. "He might be an effective tool, given some guidance. Or he may just be useless. I can think of an easy way to find out."

IC: "Maybe," he allowed with a lopsided shrug. "Maybe it'd be different, if I was there now. That's not exactly the same 'me' that resigned, though, is it? Lot's happened since then. World isn't the same, either. When I resigned I intended it to be retirement. Couldn't stick with that even before Ko-Koro, though. I might just have to face that I'm not built for it." "Anyway," Krayn continued, with something like a grin crossing his face. "Captains have to be able to do 'inspirational', and I'm not so good at that. If you really feel like you have to make amends somehow, you can provide the alibi if I ever find the airman that dropped that particular fruit on me. Fair?" @Snelly@Void Emissary

IC: "He wore a hood. I could tell he was a Ta-Matoran by the coloring of his hands." He paused, thinking; remembering. "A bit shorter than me. I never saw what mask he wore, but I remember thinking it was strange. It was some shade of blue, from the brief look I could get in the right lighting. Maybe one of the others had the chance to see his face clearly." @EmperorWhenua@Void Emissary@Emzee

IC: "Makuta." He'd never been here, despite the throngs of visitors he'd seen in the area over time. It had been a petty sort of pride that kept him away— Sulov owed no one in Onu-Koro anything, not after his exile. He knew where to find his old comrades if he wanted to. If he didn't... If Tarnok went complaining to his old boss, it would have been proof he could never escape Sulov's shadow. That the 7th would never be remembered as anything but their commander's original entourage, background players in Sulov Maru's rise from exile to paragon. Maybe that wasn't fair. No one gets to decide how they're remembered, not even legends. Maybe he was blaming Sulov for his own aimlessness after the Akiri's restructuring, for feeling... Forgotten. Overlooked. No wonder Makuta suckered him so easily. "We all thought he was dead," The Matoran started again, unable to totally keep the accusation out of his voice. "The five of us from Mata-Nui, I mean. Soraya— the Dashi— wouldn't have known either way. We weren't suspicious enough when the Ta-Matoran gathered us. With the Makuta gone, who could know so much about us but Mata-Nui? We met at Kini-Nui, and he lead us to a portal. It would take us to the Kentoku Archipelago, but it would only work once. I'd take you there to see it, but..." He shrugged, the simple motion conveying clear frustration. It didn't help that even with the bar stool to sit at the same bar, even taller than most of his fellow Matoran, he felt towered over. It only rubbed salt in the wound that the people whose victory he had undone were so much bigger physically, too. "He said we'd never find that Place again without the right guide. I don't know that area well, but Leli— Major Leli— patrolled Le-Wahi for years. She said she'd never even heard of a place like it before that night, let alone seen it." @Void Emissary@EmperorWhenua@Emzee

IC: "Nothing to apologize for." Krayn said it lightly, but without so much as a hint of ambiguity. It wasn't a reprimand. Still it didn't allow an inch of room for argument, for the inevitable 'yes, but-' that would follow— because in Rynekk's place, he would have said the same thing. It was a common thread among them, the hazard of an uncommon standard. It was why Skyra jumped in to help the Maru. It was why Krayn acted to help her. It was why Kale had to be ordered to leave him behind, and why Dehkaz and Naona ignored the danger to rescue him when the odds said he was long dead already. They couldn't live with standing by when there was yet a ghost of a chance. That, the feeling that he didn't try, was what was eating away at Rynekk. "If you need forgiveness, you have it. Even Skyra has it, for being stupid," he raised his voice a little there to make sure she heard. "But nothing would've changed if you had been there." "I may not be all right," Krayn grimaced slightly as conscious thought again made him aware of the dull ache in his shoulder, that he gestured to with his other hand. "but I'm alive. I didn't really expect it at the time. In extremis is a little overkill for self-reflection, but it got the job done. Alright?" @Void Emissary@Snelly

IC: "Sure. As long as they're not made from kelp." The comment was— almost— humorous. He'd had a long experience with the noodles— and other foods— the Dasaka made with all manner of ocean plant-life. They weren't awful, but they did make him long for something as simple as proper grains. The Matoran started to follow his former commander, but paused when he heard one of the other Toa's question. Tarnok had seen the man before, but not really registered him— certainly not as Stannis Maru. The question wasn't for him. Whatever their dynamics, their plans, they simply weren't his business. @Void Emissary@EmperorWhenua@Emzee

IC: "They've really got you swabbing the decks, Rynekk?" Krayn asked, with enough humor in his voice to make the jest clear. He waved slightly with his good arm. "That just seems cruel. We didn't get to finish talking earlier, not with Pirok and the new guy showing up afterwards. You had something on your mind?" @Void Emissary

IC: Since arriving on Mata Nui the mental plane had been... Quiet. So quiet it was disorienting at first. Except on the remotest parts of the archipelago there were presences everywhere, all around; Dashi did not send them but even they were present. These distinct consciousnesses, feelings, sliding across and against each other as they moved through the world. And all distinct. Here the active presences, even the passive ones, faded away to just the crew of the Ryu. Well that wasn't exactly true, she'd found. The inhabitants could be felt, but they had to be sought even more than a Dashi. She still lacked the training as a Willhammer to do much more than feel them, but they were there; Whitehot explained the way that she could feel earth was similar. The comparison left her with some questions about the nature of their respective powers, but that was far from her mind. By now she could recognize the 'feel' of each member of the Ryu's crew individually, after so long in the psionically 'quiet' village. All of that had changed almost overnight. The plane was so loud. It wasn't just the quantity, though that was alien enough after so long in Ga-Koro. It was the fear. The desperation. A people normally so composed had been pushed to the very brink, and it made their mere presences pulsate with uncertainty. So 'loud' were they that Sinshi couldn't sleep all night, and now with the sun rising in the sky she had a headache. Blearily she took a long, long drink from her cup of coffee in hope of wakefulness. IC: "Stupid, certainly," Kiyaku said slowly, thoughtfully. "Not lacking for audacity, though. I wonder if we might not find a use for a fool like that." @Alex Mason

IC: "It has." The past hung heavy on the words, and for a moment he felt his hand start to rise as though to throw the badge on the ground at Sulov's feet. The betrayal he felt at his core burned— for turning his back on the 7th, forgetting his old comrades, and above all else for lying about the Makuta. It screamed that he could find catharsis if he cast down the symbol of his Duty in front of the leader who had set the standard. The moment passed, and his closed hand sagged limply at his side. Without the anger all he felt was fatigue, deep in every fiber of his being, beyond the weariness from his night-long march. "Makuta is alive, and I set him free."

IC: "A fair question," she'd said. A mix of well-wishes for her people and an awareness that they were the only ones, for now, who stood any chance of piercing her guise. The one she cast upon herself psychically, of course, but more importantly the airs that she had chosen to put on; that she was simply another refugee, and not the woman who would turn this situation to her advantage. The woman that would here, on this island, find the success and comfort that she was denied at home and even the infamy that would come with it. Now, however, she had for her companion a much more pressing question. "Tell me again. This Toa tried to steal what?"

IC: "Particularly funny?" Even stifled, he could hear the chuckle fine. The Toa— Makua, he'd said?— had even less to do than Krayn did while the ship was underway. He'd had enough silence in Ko-Wahi, and enough revelations here. Even small talk beat the silence, or Skyra and Praggos' bickering. So, Krayn thought, he might as well ask. @Emzee

IC: Shame burnt all the hotter at home. Time, he thought, had reduced it to a smolder; no feeling could sustain that kind of intensity forever, and the need to be home had eclipsed it before the voyage ended. The desperate need to return to the island he had known all his life, and to the village beneath it that he had pledged his life. The Dasaka had been nothing but polite, generous hosts even as they fled their own home. Rayuke— the Dasaka called him 'Lord', though he did not rule— had impressed upon them that the five Matoran (and one Dashi) were his guests. He could not accompany them home, but the Umbraline were determined to treat them with the deference that he would have in their place. In the face of such despair, they clung to their Honor like a lifeline; he firmly believed they would have cut their own throats before failing to uphold it. Ga-Koro's relief was temporary, he needed to be home. Kellin and Leli, the three of them had traveled together. Reported to the Akiri together. Faced a judgement that refused to come together, and in that moment Tarnok had wished to scream at his Akiri. The feeling refused to abate. For the first time in his career, he ignored a direct order; when Leli wouldn't speak with him, he didn't go to see the Commander. He didn't stay at headquarters. He walked out, into the village, and he didn't stop walking. Ferron wasn't in his shop, so he left a note at his door. Then he walked some more. His habitual patrol, first, and when that ran out he kept going. Nothing guided his steps, nothing decided the direction at each fork in the road. He just kept going, and going, and going until long after 'day' turned into 'night'. There was no real difference in Onu-Koro, of course, and some Matoran kept their own clock with the stubborn irreverence of the earth itself to those that would change it. The village, still, kept loosely in time with those on the surface for convenience. Businesses closed, lights dimmed, and bars opened and still he walked until the hour at which even they began to close. When Makuta reigned, Onu-Wahi was one of the most dangerous places on the island. There were fewer Rahi than on the surface, the air itself didn't try to kill you the way it did in Ta-Wahi, Po-Wahi, or Ko-Wahi. But underground was where Shadow held sway, and everyone knew it. Beyond the edge of the village's great cavern, where civilization did not reach, Makuta ruled. Tunnels never carved by Matoran hands intersected with those that had. Lightstones embedded in the walls, even along the major routes to other villages, would break and plunge even these safest of passages into darkness. No one traveled underground alone. What little safety existed was found in numbers, in the comfort of the group, for when those groups passed through the darkness not everyone came out again. People in Onu-Wahi simple went missing. Maybe they got lost. Maybe they had an accident. Sometimes they simply abandoned the Wahi for the surface and the safety found in sunlight. There were Things in the darkness. Miners worked together. Miners talked to their Ussals. Miners brought glowstones, and lanterns, and torches that they didn't need to see because if there was a light they could believe they were safe. They could breathe a little easier, trusting in the illusion that if their own light went out their friends would notice. If they ceased to sing along to the chants their crew belted out someone would notice their voice's absence. Someone would notice, someone would care, someone would find them, someone would save them. It didn't work that way. People in Onu-Wahi just... went missing. Miners. Travelers. Guards. Young, old, local or foreign, Matoran or Toa. Missing persons reports that no one would ever solve, filed as a sort of vigil. A memorial. The last proof that they existed, once, before the earth swallowed them up. They were wonderful years, that precious time when Makuta was gone. The reports dropped. When people went missing, they were usually found; even if they didn't return home safely the people who cared about them could know, could receive the closure denied to so many. He hadn't looked, yet. Hadn't reported for duty to see the way that the reports, he knew, had risen again. And it was his fault. Not alone, not intentionally, not from any one act taken in haste. No single mistake. But his fault. He stood there, atop a far-off mountain, with six others that he had come to know and ended, in a single instant, the peace they had won. Every report from that moment forward belonged at his door, every fearful whisper a truthful accusation that he had killed them. He had betrayed the people he had fought for since the moment that there had been no one to fight for him. Every victory he'd ever won tasted like ash in his mouth, every memory made that smoldering shame in his heart burn hotter, and hotter, and hotter until it eclipsed even the ache in his muscles from uncounted hours of walking. His pain, for nothing. The friends he'd lost, for nothing. The 7th had been dead a long time, but he kept the memory alive. If it pained him that his friends were scattered, that they did not speak with him, that they were dead he moved on, one step at a time, because it had been worth it. His home was safe. They'd done their duty, and he could remember their sacrifices— and his own— with pride. Now the 7th wasn't just dead, it was gone— forsaken, in shame and despair, by the last member standing. Nearly. He stood in front of his home when 'morning' came, his insignia held so tightly in his hand and for so long that the trickle of blood had long since dried and crusted its surfaces as well as his fingers. There was one other member of the 7th, so long ago, left standing. He had given his report to the Akiri yesterday. There was only one place, for a little while longer, that he could be now. His feet carried him to headquarters again, so long after the last time he had left it, in search. One person could, perhaps, tell him why. Three stood outside the Akiri's office, one even more famous than he, but Tarnok's eyes never wavered from the tallest. His voice was hoarse from tension, but the name that left his mouth was rustier still from disuse. "Sulov Maru." @Void Emissary@EmperorWhenua@Emzee

I can't think of any reason why not. Feel free to drop myself or Ghosthands a message. Tyler isn't very active lately, but if you send it to either one of us it'll make its way through the chain to whoever has the answer and back to you.

This is the case; since we're still (I believe) missing people from the Darkwalk quest, it's run for so long, and everyone is in retreat anyway I'm going to get an overall wrapup post done as soon as I can. 'As soon as I can' has taken a little longer than I intended, but that's still the plan!

Hey all! After consultation with my beleaguered colleagues, it seems to us that almost everyone is being held up somewhere by a post or two that hasn't materialized. This isn't to point fingers; some of those posts are supposed to come from me! However, we feel that step one to getting things back on track is to get everyone freed up. To that end, effective as of this posting we are time-skipping the whole game forward one day. If there's something you needed to cover in that time that you just hadn't gotten to, that's okay! That's what flashbacks or a little BZTime is for. You all know the drill. The only explicit exception here is the digsite on Zakaz, per @Ghosthandsrequest. I know that the Darkwalk and Heist questlines will need a little special handling with this timeskip; I'm planning to address that with the people involved, so while those two places are not exceptions they will take slightly longer. This isn't the only step we're taking, in case you're thinking to yourself that that doesn't really change things for you. I (and we) have some plans we're going to be putting into place, but since step one is nice and simple (and might be able to free some people up all by itself) we're getting that implemented first. As always, you know where and how to find us if you've got questions or concerns!

IC: A notch or two was not sufficient after the talk turned to Skyra’s affairs and Praggos’ complaint about his personal stock. The dial clicked down two more, and the noise around him faded further to something he could ignore without too much effort. There was no further need of him with the newcomer, so he turned towards the mast and paced around to the other side of that large wooden beam. Despite his time aboard the Fowadi, and despite his desire always to pull his own weight, Krayn wasn’t much of a sailor. While the ship was underway his only responsibility was to stay out of the way and not fall overboard. Fortunately the deck was spacious enough that he could claim a little of it for himself to stand and try to run through some of the stretches that had been suggested to him. He had stopped briefly in Ko-Koro on his way in from the wilderness to consult a doctor; the ill-tempered man, after insisting that he could discern nothing wrong, prescribed a series of stretches and strength building exercises. All oriented around his shoulder, of course, and he detested doing them. They didn’t feel like they were doing any good. The simplest was to brace his forearm against something to his side and gently ease himself forward, stretching the muscles in the process. He stopped when he felt resistance, almost instantly bordering on pain, and held the position. After a count of thirty he released it, waited, and repeated the process. On the fourth stretch pain shot through the joint as soon as he began, and he decided that would have to do for now. The frustrating thing was that he couldn’t find anything wrong, either. That didn’t stop him from feeling the spot experimentally, as though he might find something below the faint scar that he hadn’t the first hundred times. He didn’t. The scar always seemed too small. It spoke to how well the healers had done their job that all that remained was a scar like a burn well healed by the passage of time. Of the wound that had required cauterization there was no sign. Medicine wasn’t his profession, but he’d had his share of experience with first aid in the field. With enough concentration he could learn about what was under the surface by feeling the way sound moved through the area. He hadn’t found anything that way, either. Krayn sank to the deck, leaning back against the mast. He fixed his eyes on the sky and allowed his sixth, elemental sense to wander; even with his hearing reduced, sound was everywhere. It was only vibrations, after all, and a ship in motion produced so many. The footsteps of the crew, waves striking the hull when the water grew rough. The sources were innumerable, wherever energy was transferred between one body and another there was sound. Paying attention to the soundscape was a much more relaxing prospect than musing over his shoulder yet again, so he allowed his mind to wander with his senses. If someone needed his attention, he would know. OOC: Small Krayn post as I work to get back in the swing, others to follow elsewhere as needed and time allows.

IC: Fear sucked. Meant to keep you alive, teach you when to exercise caution. Remind you not to rush in where Light would fear to shine. Fear- natural fear- was just a stimuli, the feeling that made you fight or flee when danger reared its head. Fear could be controlled, fear could be managed, and when you understood it you could make fear work for you. Only the stupid were truly fearless. Fear didn't rip into Skri's mind. Terror did. In an instant the darkness was closing in on her like a thing alive, threatening to smother her under its weight. It tried to crush her, just like the last time- and this time, it roared deep her in her chest, it would finish the job. Once lucky, little Toa, it snarled. Not twice. She couldn't breathe. Her muscles trembled, so suddenly and so violently that she bit her tongue when she tried to grit her teeth. Her blade felt so much heavier in her hands, the mottled and shifting patterns on the Rahkshi's carapace seemed to form laughing, monstrous faces that whispered to her that this place would be her tomb. It took every ounce of her strength, of her experience, of her resolve not to flee. Even then, that was it. She couldn't advance. She couldn't spit defiance, couldn't find within her any more strength than to keep her trembling blade between herself and her enemy. The Rahkshi was right- she couldn't possibly see the plasma coming this way, not with all the foresight in the world. It caught her left shoulder, or maybe a little further in; it was just pain, white hot and searing at the forefront of her brain blocking out all other thought. She gasped, she was dully aware of that, and spat out the bit of blood her tongue had leaked into her mouth. It hit the floor in front of her, bright in the residual glow of the plasma that had passed through her to strike the far stone wall. Her left arm was largely limp, unresponsive to command. But her blade wasn't trembling anymore. "Nui, I should've stayed in bed today." The Irregular's voice was tight, almost hoarse, but there was no more fear in it. Rather, fear no longer ruled it- pain had leveled that field. The needle had moved to fight, and there was no pushing it back to neutral. Colorful spots played across her vision, between the plasma and whatever the Karz the light weapon the LT'd just pulled out was, but it was focused again. Rage bubbled under the surface, fear pushed too far over the brink into fury, but her mind worked smoothly. Quickly. Detached, just a bit too much, from the woes of her body. "Kay, then." Despite how clever the setup, the overgrown bug had missed its best chance to get her in one shot. Plasma was so hot that wherever it hit her was already cauterized, and she wasn't dead yet; that meant she wasn't gonna die in the next minute, either. Small miracles. A vine shot out of the hole in her jacket, coiled itself tightly around her left arm and shot into the dark beyond to wrap around the hilt of her Acurahk staff; when it yanked back, pulling the staff back to her hand, it was almost natural. Only the way the vine lashed around her hand and the body of the staff betrayed the illusion. She took a measured few steps back, pivoting slightly to keep as many of the threats in view as she could and ignoring the ragged hitch to her breath when she 'moved' her arm. She could still 'see' the floor with her pollen, and with a quick bounce of her Pakari-enhanced wrist she choked up on the hilt of her sword for better control despite her single hand. "Come on, you ugly bug." She sneered at what, despite its camouflage, she knew to be a Turahk. The tip of her staff beckoned mockingly. "C'mere. Takes a real coward to need a sucker punch like that." @Light OOC: Some additional pieces forthcoming, after I check on a few things. To be edited in to this post if no response has come before then.

With any luck, it might be easier to sort that out soon. Things have been a little quiet for a while. On that point, real life has took precedence for me for a bit. I'll be working on getting caught up throughout the week. There are posts I already know for sure are on my list, but if there's something I'm forgetting as the days go on then let me know!

IC: "We can chat more when Dehkaz is done with you. I've got a couple of questions, when you've got the time." Krayn gestured after the retreating Matoran, mostly with the wrist, and inclined his head slightly to the new Toa to bid him— for the moment— farewell. "Good luck." For Praggos and Skyra's bickering, he didn't pay much mind— and he didn't even touch the subject of Luten. He didn't understand it, so he wasn't going to try and explain it. He did dial his ear protection a notch or two lower. He didn't really need to listen to the back-and-forth at that volume. @Razgriz

IC: What the Nui was this guy's problem he just took a hundred volts this is— The wire, taut and softened by heat, parted under Karmine's blade. The Sentinel's own muscles were coiled tight, ready to spring, but she didn't move. Didn't act. Caught between two priorities, Ruki bounced on the balls of her feet hesitantly. This lunatic couldn't hurt her— a Hau was the ultimate, perfect defense. She chose it for that reason. Standing around here being immovable didn't stop this guy, though, and he didn't have much regard for his own life. A big piece of her wanted to just electrify the flooring. Hit them all with zap enough to knock 'em out and let the Sarge sort 'em out. But there were friendlies, civilians, and the voltage to drop that Toa without seriously harming a Matoran was... Iffy. Just too chancy. It wasn't the Sentinel way. Wasn't the Toa way. "Alright, creep, if that's how you're gonna play it," Ruki hissed, flexing gloved fingers deliberately and balling her hands into fists. The uneven, flickering lights— still resolving their surplus charge from what had grounded out into the flooring— caught gleaming nodes on each of her fingers. "Let's play, then." The Sentinel came in low and she came in fast, right fist headed for her enemy's sternum. @Tarn@Jesse Pinkman *** "What favor is he doing you?" The Lesterin's brows furrowed, even more confused— and troubled— than before. She didn't bother to point out that his companion's 'rancid' manners were already aimed with lethal intentions. @Perp OOC: Additional posts for @oncertainty and @Vezok's Friend regarding Nota coming soon, along with a post for the folks at the back of the train. Wanted to get what I had done already posted first.