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Krayzikk

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Everything posted by Krayzikk

  1. 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.
  2. 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
  3. 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
  4. 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
  5. 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
  6. 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
  7. 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
  8. 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
  9. 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
  10. 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
  11. 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
  12. 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.
  13. OOC: shall we begin, demoni?
  14. IC: "The Chaotic Six." The revulsion in Kiyaku's voice wasn't feigned; the woman had done some disdainful things in her time as a privateer, but never for the simple desire for cruelty. Money was an impersonal motivator. Cruelty was no more personal but infinitely more emotional. There was no purpose to it, no need. So while she had not had the misfortune of meeting the Chaotic Six personally their example was one she disdained. And it had made her wary when dealing with the members of their ilk here. "Never personally. But six of them arrived on our shores some months ago, probably a couple of years now. First outsiders we had seen in recorded history. The violent nature of their visit and departure inspired the name with which the Umbralines prefer to refer to them. Why?" @Johnny Blockesville
  15. IC: "Not in a hurry, but it is something we should discuss urgently. Privacy, of course, is up to you." The Matoran paused a moment, thinking. "I don't think what we have to tell you can be kept quiet long. And it shouldn't. But you may wish to have discretion in how you break the news. Where would you prefer to speak, sir?"
  16. IC: An interesting question, Kiyaku reflected. "No. And yes." The Dasaka took a long drink from her glass, tapping its side thoughtfully with a finger. "The skill of combat, the art of it, is prized above almost all. Every Menti, one of my caste, is trained at the Imperial Yards in the psionic arts. Every one of them, each in its own way, a type of combat. And most intertwined with practices of a physical sort. Within our three Virtues, fraternal twins to those I'm told you follow here, is Power." "But the nature of combat, the times it can be carried out, is organized. Rigidly so. Conflict on any grand scale has not occurred since the last Fursic Uprising some years ago. So yes, I would say it is valued. But seldom practiced in earnest."
  17. IC: Ah, a brain underneath. "Learning. Observing. Studying. Taking advantage of opportunity where I may, perhaps." The Dasaka allowed, acknowledging the point with a nod of her head. "Those unwise with where they place their hands and their purses may find them a touch lighter. But without a purse you can ill afford to sharpen a blade, can you?" @Johnny Blocksville
  18. IC: "Only with learning. This land is very different from my own, but then, in some ways it's the same." The Dasaka sipped her own drink, gesturing about the bar with her other hand. "Learning what differs and what does not is an enterprise all its own. And an important one." "Is it the same with your land?" @Johnny Blocksville
  19. IC: Their lord and master had spoken, all that remained was to obey. To do so in a timely fashion required that she dispense with some courtesy and grab what she needed herself. The witch pressed her canteen into Deaundra's hand with a care belied by her hand's sinister guise, patting it lightly once for emphasis, and slid off of her perch to gather what she needed. She did so quickly, without much time for lengthy consideration, as the titanic master of Khy;Barr's rumbling footsteps tinted her vision in waves of earthy tones. She pocketed an array of leaves and blossoms, somewhere within the folds of her cloak, trusting her own memory to sort them out later. Or her immunity to their effects should that fail. There was little else to be done to prepare. The small creature of bones rattled into her person as well, into some small compartment of the fabric, and she took one last, slow drag on her ovuk-taht before smothering it between the thumb and index of her right hand. The ash was absently wiped on her thigh and the trash deposited in the bin of Deuandra's rejects before she began, at a more leisurely pace than Verakastian, to follow their master. The feeling of her arms swinging freely at her sides, even if they did clink and clank, was enough to make any manner of errand worthwhile. @sunflower@Perp@Razgriz@Haman Karn: A Magical Girl
  20. IC: "Ah, that's right. You shake hands here, yes?" Tall. Taller than the guise she currently wore, certainly, and probably taller than the truth. The same smile as before graced the Hau she seemed to wear; the locals for whatever reason seemed to regard the Kanohi, unconsciously, as trustworthy. Not that this women would know the difference but she reminded herself of what colors she appeared to be garbed in before she introduced herself. Zataka was always in the little details. "Dastana Yumi, my lady." She shook the taller woman's hand and gestured at the seat across from her in invitation. "You might be?" @Johnny Blocksville
  21. IC: Eyes, eyes, everywhere but just one pair on her. It took her a few moments to catch it. The tall, Toa-like being watching her intently. It was the intent that mattered, that separated her from the people who simply saw but did not look. She pivoted in her chair to regard the other woman with a friendly looking smile, and tilted her head. "I'm sorry, have we met somewhere?" @Johnny Blocksville
  22. @Perp@Haman Karn: A Magical Girl@Razgriz IC: saeva sareta: forklift certified??? Keepin’ your distance is rude, Tor, you’re gonna hurt my feelings Well there was only one thing for that. Tor wanted to keep her at arm’s leg’s length she’d just have to keep on movin’ in. Blocking and leaning kept her blows from her lankier pal but did nothing to keep her from continuing to invade the Vo-Toa’s personal space. That longer leg came up and around, connected with her ribs, drew an ‘oof’— and was immediately pinned to her side with Saeva’s own arm. The Ta-Toa grinned toothily. “Come on, Tor, don’t go anywhere!” Further in she went, looking almost like she intended to hit Torana’s midriff with her shoulder; and after a fashion she did, but only as a consequence of her new grip around her middle. A grip she used, laughing again, to hoist her up, up, up, until Torana realized she had passed parallel with the ground and was, in fact, heading further towards it. And that Saeva’s feet had pushed off from the ground, intent on smacking her friend’s back down onto the ground and hers onto her friend. ba-dum ba-dum twaaaang ba-dum ba-dum Oh karz, she’s really strong. Her leg trapped within Saeva’s iron-shackle grip brought a bead of sweat down her forehead and a slight tremor to her voice as Torana tried fruitlessly to wrest her appendage from its bondage. Despite the hits she’d taken, the Ta-Toa seemed to shrug everything off and just. Keep. Going. How in the hеll could she beat the smirk that wouldn’t quit? Yeah, that smirk. She was running her mouth again. Tor laughed nervously as Saeva brought herself closer in as Tor struggled to maintain her balance. “Hey, uh, how about-” A LITTLE LESS CONVERSATION Oh, she was flying now. (she flies now??) Or so it appeared, for only a moment as the Vo-Toa left the ground (she’s REALLY fuсking strong) before- A LITTLE MORE ACTION, PLEASE -impacting the cobblestones, flat on her back, with a THUD that knocked approximately ninety percent of the air from her lungs. get up get up get up get UP On autopilot/survival mode now, Tor pushed away from Saeva’s likewise-toppled form as quickly as she could, drew her knees into her chest, and snapped herself back up to an (admittedly wobbly) standing position, just barely having the wherewithal to reform her guard as she tried to keep her head from spinning. E’d be rolling his eyes, for sure, but that was just too fun. Saeva laughed again, the sound turning breathless with a sharp ache reporting in from the sides that were trying to bust. Fun, but not really smart. Ah well, no one’d ever accused her of that. The slighter shorter Toa imitated Torana’s move and popped back to her feet, registering the ache again and bending her torso a little experimentally. Ouch, okay, so a little limited. Well, what can you do? Tor wobbled, looking just a little punch drunk, and Saeva flashed her a winning grin. “How about what, Tor?” ALL THIS AGGRAVATION AIN’T SATISFACTIONIN’ ME “I- uh. How… how about…” Words. What were they? “How ‘bout you keep… keep running your mouth, hot stuff?” She bounced on her heels once, twice, feeling the muscles in her legs tense and stretch as she paced left and then right again, the dots in her vision starting to clear up. Her next steps were forward, forward, drawing her guard in tighter and tighter, her eyes focusing in on her target as the cyclone that was whirling her grey matter around in her skull subsided. “C’mon, Saeva. How about-” Right cross. Dead center. That smirk. “Yeah? How ‘bout wh-” wait sh- Saeva Sareta, Crucible Queen, was cocky and wide open. Grinning, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and arms— almost but not quite— relaxed at her sides she had drastically underestimated how quickly Tor’d recover. Quick and clean, straight into the smirk, and the Ta-Toa rocked back on her heels. Her right foot dropped back to recover, head starting to come back around, and through a groggy haze she almost wanted to laugh. Tor you sneaky— Fortunately boxing, especially the dirty kind, was kind of her usual thing. Tor was quick, Tor was pretty good, and Tor could take a hit but Saeva’d spent her free time building up a resistance to bigger hits with little ones for ages now. Her brain— whole central nervous system, really— wasn’t with it yet, not completely, but her muscles knew this dance and they were playing her song. Her torso bent back in towards the other Toa, right rear foot stepping back in as she twisted to bring her right arm in and up to catch Tor’s following left hook with her forearm. A movement that let her bring her left into position around her waist, almost like a gun primed and ready to fire. Which is about what happened when she stepped in again with her left and rammed it towards Tor’s middle. All that precious air! She’d been building it back up in her lungs after Saeva took her to the Grand Slam and now it was all gone again! Dаmn her! All that sweet, sweet oxygen was expelled from her body in so violent a manner that her low “OOF” was cut off midway through the vocalization. She doubled over, her knees melting into butter, weakly pushing the Ta-Toa away with whatever strength she had. Huh, she had no idea that the whole day had passed them by. Last she remembered, it was still morning, fairly close to noon. There were fireflies out now, swarming around her head, so she figured it must be evening- Oh. The Vo-Toa’s structural support failed at its weakest point (read: her knees) as she collapsed downward like a ragdoll, though still managing some semblance of grace in her haggard comportment by planting her аss on the city street, panting like a dog in an effort to stay conscious. …A LITTLE LESS FIGHT AND A LITTLE MORE SPARK Saeva’s foot shot out, aimed straight for Torana’s cheek— And stopped a good six inches short before returning to the ground. The Ta-Toa laughed, grimacing despite it, and she casually spat out a gob of blood resulting from her split lip. “Call it there, Sparky?” She asked, her own declaration of truth, grinning and holding out a hand to help her up. Tor couldn’t help but flinch as the foot approached her face, though she managed a relieved smile between ragged breaths as her friend held back. Her hands shot up in a gesture of surrender following Saeva’s proposition - though the sudden lack of structural bracing nearly made her fall over the rest of the way, and quickly redirected one of her hands to meet that of her friend. “Alright… I concede…” she managed to gasp as the Ta-Toa hauled her up. Tor wrapped her arm around Saeva’s shoulder, as she didn’t quite trust her legs to support her full weight just yet. Her other hand formed a fist and parked itself out in front of their chests, awaiting the impact of its crimson compatriot. They stumbled back towards the other two members of their Quartet. “Good… fight…” “Ahhh, if it was to first blood you’d’ve got me. Caught me slackin’.” She bumped her friend’s fist with her own and wrapped her other arm around her back for an extra measure of support. Saeva winked and grinned again, a look marred just a little by the extra red on her teeth. “Feelin’ generous so we’ll call it a draw, yeah? Don’t wanna scare you off from goin’ again sometime, Sparky. Who do you think bet on who?” The fireflies were dissipating one by one, so that was a good sign. “Aw, c’mon… you won that by… a country mio. Won’t scare me off if you… teach me a thing or two, y’know?” Overexerting her lungs too quickly wracked her torso with a coughing fit, and would’ve knocked her back down to the cobbles had she not been holding onto Saeva. Her gaze refocused on the duo in front of them, one Onu-Toa in particular taking up some eighty percent of her cone of vision. Bets… SA-TIS-FY ME, BABY… “Who d’you think?” “Yeah, I guess that was kinda a dumb question.” “Well, I mean, look at him… Guy’s grinning from ear to ear… I think…” ba-dum ba-dum twaaaang ba-dum ba-dum..
  23. IC: "Second opinion couldn't hurt." Krayn shrugged a one-armed shrug and sipped from his fresh mug, brow furrowing thoughtfully. "Medicine isn't always a precise science, even for the best. By all rights my shoulder is fine, yet..." He shrugged again. "Did anything seem to trigger it?"
  24. IC: "Anything you need to talk about?" The De-Toa asked, nodding to Dehkaz in acknowledgement while he prepared for himself a replacement cup of coffee. "We've got a little while, it seems." @Snelly
  25. IC: Barbarians though they were the Empire had been insane to ever, even for a moment, consider conquering the Mata Nuians. They were fractious. Chaotic. Unruly. Dashi sought, in her opinion in vain, to keep the larger, more powerful species in check. And so many species there were! More of the Chaotic Six— apparently called 'Skakdi'— Dashi, Menti, and Datsue. And more that had not been seen upon Imperial soil in recorded history. Lanky creatures, taller even than Skakdi. A powerless caste of Menti that seemed to consider themselves a species all their own, though their similarity was such that it was hard to see. Their powers spanned the same range and their technology, undoubtedly primitive in some respects, seemed to progress with frenetic haste that the Ringti could never hope to match. Not one of these displays caused such concern, however, as the merest proof of what they were. Lawless. Completely unbound by rule of law or nature, unfettered by any sense of restraint in the means they would use towards their end. Underneath the Shinushya was what her crew had believed to be a trench, unusually placed but no true oddity. It had shaken them more deeply than anyone would admit to learn that the locals called it the Kumu Abyss, and that there had once been a thriving seventh village upon the small islands that now lay at the bottom of the sea. One day it was there and the next, with a shuddering felt all the way to shore, it was gone. Swallowed up by the waves like it had never been. Too sudden for survivors, too violent for close observers. Its demise was a mystery— and a warning. Not that she had ever taken well to warnings. Kiyaku herself was not aboard the vessel; it had passed beyond the range of her sight, on her order, to investigate that very abyss. A civilization that sank so suddenly might yet have resources to plunder, and a place so feared might prove a decent place to hide out. While they learned what they could, reporting in whenever they were close enough, she stayed within Nokama Port's grounds doing the same as she had since her arrival; learning. Learning how the natives spoke, the value of their currency, the state of their politics. Who were their enemies, who were their allies. What criminals did they speak of in the seedy bars, when the sun went down? And, of course, she pilfered. It was so easy here. Not a one had ever confronted a Sighteye, and tweaking their perception just a little could not have been simpler if they were asleep. It allowed her, bit by bit, to siphon money away from the establishments and their guests; no large sums, perhaps, but any operation would need capital. This new island was a tremendous opportunity. But in its own way, it was more perilous than her homeland had ever been. To establish herself, and her crew, would take time and it would take patience. But for now she could simply enjoy her drink, watching the Marines about her in the bar gossip and relax.
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