Ghosthands

Promises

OOC: Recommended listening. IC My name is Korero. You might know me as “Toa Korero Maru”. That’s who I’m supposed to be now. “Toa” isn’t a title: it’s a promise. To do what’s right, to stand united against the darkness, and to protect the people of the Great Spirit. I’ve been thinking a lot about promises lately. Before I was Toa Korero Maru, I was just Korero: just a little Matoran with his head in the clouds who stumbled his way into the web of fate. Into a Destiny. I wasn’t even a fighter; my Brothers and Sister all served their Koro before we became Toa, but I barely knew how to hold a spear. Sometimes that feels like a lifetime ago, and sometimes like it’s been no time at all. Sometimes I feel like I’m still just that little Matoran, play-acting at being a Toa. Sometimes I wonder why the Great Spirit chose me for this — and sometimes, when I’m at my lowest, I wonder if he even did. Faith. That’s another promise. Its symbol is there on my shield to remind people of that most intangible yet crucial of the Principles. By carrying that shield I’m promising that there is always hope, that people can rely on us, that Mata Nui will provide…but now, I’m not always sure I believe it myself. Two years ago, we fought Makuta, and we won. Or we thought we did. We certainly said we did. That’s what we told the people of Mata Nui, and what I had the indescribable honour of carving into the Wall of History. It wasn’t a lie — not on my part, anyway. I believed it. I trusted Stannis when he told us that the power of his mask, the power of Mata Nui, had vanquished Makuta. The ways of the Great Spirit are mysterious, and Stannis was our leader. I had faith. I didn’t think I needed to ask questions. Sure, nobody said he was gone for good, but I let myself believe it, and I let the people of Mata Nui believe the same: that we could live in peace and prosperity, free of fear. I didn’t learn the truth until later. After the peace we’d built was shattered by the Piraka, we confronted Stannis. At first he wouldn’t talk, and I think that’s when my faith in him broke. Until then, Reordin and I had been the chalk-and-cheese of the team…but in that moment, we became a united front. We were the only ones who really stood up to him. I know Oreius was angry too, but duty always comes first with him. Leah tried to mediate, as she always does, and Sulov was as inscrutable as ever. Only Reo and I could bring ourselves to call Stannis out on his careful omissions. But he wouldn’t talk. It took more escalations — above all, Ko-Koro — for him to relent and explain that Makuta hadn’t been destroyed, only banished to the Legend. I still don’t really understand what the Legend is, but I now know it’s a far less impregnable prison than Stannis would’ve had us, and everyone else, believe. Makuta is back. I’m sure of it. I’ve been to Kini-Nui — you can feel it there. Even in the brightest sunshine, you feel cold. In your bones. A prickle on the back of your neck, like you’re being watched. I don’t even dare go into Mangaia any more: the Rahkshi are moving, crawling out of whatever caves and crevices they’d retreated to after we cleared it out. They’re focused, they’re coordinated, and their numbers seemed to grow each time I scouted the tunnels. I think an attack is coming. All this time, we let our people believe they were safe. That they could grow and build unthreatened. That it was the beginning of a golden age of peace. But it was only ever a brief reprieve: a long, deep breath before a second plunge. If they’d known he was coming back, they could’ve used that time to prepare, to build defences and unite their forces. I come back to the symbol on the shield: Faith. Hope. False hope is no hope at all, and a lie of omission is still a lie. Promises. Before this all went to Karzahni, back when it really did feel like a lasting peace, I made another promise: to Kongu, the Akiri of Le-Koro. He’s a good man, a good leader, and a friend. I trust him, and I’m honoured to be the protector of his city. He’d just given a speech to usher in a “new dawn” for our people, and we walked together in the treetop streets. He hadn’t shown it in his speech, but he was troubled. I still remember what he asked of me: "No matter how bad things get, no matter how things fall-break apart, no matter what happens, you and the Toa-hero Maru must remain allies until the last man. Do you understand me my friend?" At the time I didn’t really understand. I couldn’t imagine a future where the Maru weren’t united. Now I understand what he was asking…and now I fear I can’t keep that promise. Now more than ever, Mata Nui needs the Maru, and needs us united — not just as warriors, but as champions, as symbols. I know that. But a team needs a leader, and I don’t know if I can ever follow Stannis again. It’s not just about the principle of telling the truth; it’s about the consequences too. If the Akiri had known we wouldn’t be out from under the Shadow forever, they could’ve prepared for this. How many innocents will die because we — because he — never gave them that chance? When I carved our story on the Wall, I left out the part about our predecessors. The First Toa, the Mata whose power lives on in us, descended into Mangaia long before we ever did…and they fell. Everyone knows that much. But they didn’t just fall: they were turned. Twisted into beings of Shadow. We faced them when we made our own descent, and we won, but the price of victory was the knowledge that even the greatest of heroes can become nightmares of Makuta. That part of the story isn’t on the Wall. We discussed it, as a team, and the decision was that it was best to let the memory of the First Toa remain pure…that the truth would do more harm than good. I disagreed, but I was outvoted, so I did as I was told and left it out: a little white lie, carved in the spaces between words. I didn’t even know I was carving one far bigger. Lies of omission are. still. lies. At the time I was blinded by the glory of our victory, and the honour of being asked to carve the fabled Wall of History. Now I don’t think I should’ve done it. I think that’s why we need Chroniclers: the quiet watchers, the storytellers, unclouded by the compromises of power and responsibility. They keep us honest. But when the ones with all the power get to decide how their own stories are told…where does that lead? It leads us here. I just wish I knew what comes next. *** Korero sighed, and flipped the leather cover of his notebook closed again, slotting the pencil into its pouch and slipping the whole ensemble back into his satchel. Pouring his troubles out onto the page always helped him get his thoughts in order, but it never really changed anything. He looked out at the view from the roof of his hut: treetops, stretching almost to the horizon, a sea of brilliant green leaves and just a hint of the real sea beyond, all bathed in glorious afternoon sunshine with hardly a cloud in the sky. It all still looked so idyllic…but he knew it was a mirage. The Shadow had already begun to fall over Le-Wahi once more. He rose to his feet, still looking out across the treetops, his gaze hardening as he tried to forge his dread into determination. Enough waiting. Enough worrying. It was time for him to act. Time to make it right. As for what that actually means…I’ll just have to figure it out as I go. He closed his eyes, concentrated on his destination, and in a flash of light he was gone.

IC (Vrinak the Broker) [The Warrens] The Broker chuckled, holding Ipsudir's dangerous gaze with one of his own, just firm enough to show he wasn't intimidated by the Warlord while remaining cordial. This subtle posturing wasn't really necessary, of course; both of them knew where they stood. But one must keep up appearances. "Why yes, I have heard about this little get-together," he purred. "I'm told that said gentleman has been making the rounds, inviting the great and good of our isle. Should be quite the event, by the sound of it. As a matter of fact, I've been meaning to pay him a visit myself." He grinned dangerously. "I seem to have been overlooked in the invitations." He leaned to a nearby table and tapped the ash from his cigar into a tray before taking another drag. The exhaled smoke wafted up in lazy tendrils towards the hewn stone ceiling. "So, if there's any particular information you're looking for, I can make sure it's...acquired." OOC: @Mel @Visaru @Geardirector

IC (Lohkar) [The Dancing Crab, Ostia] "Ha, I'll drink to that!" I affirmed with a grin, and did so. Consequently I was still nose-deep in my tankard when another prospective shipmate arrived, introducing herself as 'Lash'. Gunner, always quick on the up-take, took point while his captain was temporarily indisposed. Contrary to appearances, even as I downed the mug of rum, I was listening intently to the Vortixx's self-introduction. So far, so run-of-the-mill. A washed-up merc looking for a fresh start...Artakha knew there were enough of those floating around Ostia. And yet, my instincts raised a faint ping of warning. Her story was smoothly delivered but short on detail, vague in all the right places. That in itself wasn't necessarily a problem; in my business you generally have to take a don't-ask-don't-tell approach to recruitment. If somebody's willing to join a roving band of thieves on the high seas, chances are they're either the carefree-bordering-on-unhinged type (exhibit A: Sandman over there) or they've got a thing or two to hide. But I've heard a polished liar or two in my time (hey, you're lookin' at one) and sometimes you've just gotta listen to your gut when someone comes across a little too slippery. Wasn't reason enough to turn her away, of course. Just one to keep an eye on. I emerged from my drink with the trademark grin on full blast. Rule 1 of being cautious: don't let anybody know you're doing it. "Good ta meetcha, 'Lash'." Without moving from my eminently comfortable position, I extended one palm for a firm handshake. "Rest assured, we can get ya as far away from this rock as it's possible ta go. Question is..." I continued, eyes a-twinkle, "what can you do for us?" OOC: Sorry about the delay; been a rough couple of weeks but I should be able to post more regularly for at least the near future. @Nato G@Visaru @Void Emissary @Snelly@pokemonlover360

IC (Ageru Kilanya) [Fort Kizuno, Odaiba] "Good," Kilanya replied, nodding once. She shifted her posture a little, allowing her body's weight to settle as she prepared to turn her focus to the mental plane. "I am not only a Soulsword: I am a Willhammer also. With your cooperation, I can use that power to bridge our minds. Then, we may each perform our summoning, and the other will experience the process through the link. I will be able to see the flaws in your technique more directly, and you will be able to understand the principles of mine more clearly." She paused. "I don't offer this lightly. To enter another's mind is the most intimate of intrusions. Your thoughts, your feelings...you may reveal more to me than you mean to. But in this new and dangerous world of ours, you need to find your strength, and this will grant us both insights that I believe will be invaluable to your training. "So. Are you willing to begin?" OOC: @Razgriz

IC (Ageru Tazera) [Bridge of the Chiisai Ryuu] Tazera was frozen in place. Her eyes were wide, face taut with barely-contained emotion, equal parts horror and rage. The quandary before her should have been easy. The calculus of Order was clear: the life of one Menti was of little importance compared to the Chiisai Ryuu, a vessel of singular value both practical and symbolic. To give her up to some base thief, on this day of all days, when what remained of the Dasaka Empire had arrived beaten and bedraggled on foreign shores, exiled from its own homeland...it was unconscionable. One soldier was not worth the jewel of the fleet. Any commanding officer worth her salt would make this decision in a heartbeat. They would pay the price and pay it gladly, for the sake of the Empire. And yet, as she stared at the rogue Toa and Inzu's limp form in his grip, Tazera found that she could not. She looked at Inzu and saw not a pawn on the board, but a woman she knew. Not only as a subordinate, but as a person. Not only her dedication to her duties and her skills as a Menti, but also the cadence of her humour, the sound of her laugh. She knew Inzu would have had no qualms risking her life to defend the fleet, but this was not the same. The choice was not Inzu's, but hers. She asked herself if she could make that choice...and knew the answer. And in that moment Tazera knew she had been beaten. She struggled to loosen a jaw clenched tight. Her throat felt dry. "I will...relay...your demands," she managed in a half-choked voice, slow and halting, "...to my superiors." She raised a hand to her temple, as much to quell the pounding in her head as to focus her Ideatalk. Forgive me, Aya. The Lieutenant concentrated, and sent her words across the mental plane once more. :Commodore...: Though strong enough to reach Ayiwah on the dock, Tazera's mental transmission was unmistakably shaky, carrying flickers of anger, fear and shame despite her best efforts to suppress them. :The intruder has...taken Dastana Inzu hostage. He is demanding the Ryuu. In return for her life.: IC The decks of the Yukanna were a flurry of movement. With the Chiisai Ryuu now chained to the warship and held at surface-level, the Navy had restored access to and from the submersible. Koso had met Aeragot on his way from the bridge and escorted the Toa to the now-open hatch, just in time to see a number of Menti rappelling down from the Yukanna to secure the sub. At their head was a purple-armoured male, emerald cape and haori rippling behind him as he dropped ropeless. His fall was slowed at the last moment by an unseen force. Even as their feet hit the crystal hull, Lieutenant Tazera's voice echoed through the mental plane. It was only one word — :WAIT!: — but it was laced with desperate urgency. While the other Menti were still exchanging glances, the purple-armoured male was already disappearing through the hatch. OOC: @Razgriz @Vezok's Friend @oncertainty @Umbraline Yumiwa

IC (Ageru Kilanya) [Fort Kizuno, Odaiba] "Yes...and no," Kilanya replied. "The energy of the Soul is not of the physical world, and the world resists it. It can only exist within a space we maintain by the strength of our will; without that, it dissipates. That space is your Soulsword. Its shape is a boundary, between the mental and the physical." The boundary between Soul and World. The edge that cuts reality. "By attempting to 'mould' it, you have been reshaping that boundary while it already contains your power. This makes it unstable. Instead you must define the boundary first, in its entirety. You must know its every facet, hold it in your mind, and impose it on the world. Then you may fill it with your Soul, and so forge your Sword." She shook her head, looking down at the well-trodden dirt of the training ground. "These concepts are difficult to express in mere words, and more difficult still to understand from them alone. But..." She raised her one-eyed gaze to meet Shiki's once more. "...there is another way they might be shared. If you are willing."

IC (Ageru Tazera) [Bridge of the Chiisai Ryuu] Tazera watched Aeragot leave the bridge and breathed a silent sigh of relief. That was one less complication to deal with. Although she had to admit, the Toa's efforts to defuse the situation had probably been what was needed. Thanks to him, the intruder had been talked down and would soon be in Marine custody, with no further damage done to the Ryuu's bridge or the febrile diplomatic situation. It seemed this whole debacle was finally drawing to a— Then she felt it. A faint tingling on the skin. A sense of dryness, a charge in the air. A hint of metal on the tongue, like the taste of a dry thunderstorm. She'd felt these sensations before, only a little while ago, and what they presaged was bad news indeed. The Lieutenant wheeled around to see Rudra looking directly at her, as Inzu reached out to bind his proffered hands. The Toa was smiling. Too late, Tazera's warning thundered through the mental plane. :WAIT—:

IC (Ageru Kilanya) [Fort Kizuno, Odaiba] A frown of concern and perplexment creased Kilanya's features as Shiki demonstrated her summoning. Her words described the right process, but they were little more than a mantra, and her body language told a different story. Kilanya could see the strain on her face, the tension in her neck and jaw. What ought to be calm focus was instead a struggle. Her consternation only increased when the young Menti's Soulsword began to manifest. Kilanya watched with bemusement as the psionic energy began to warp, wrench, compact over itself. The roiling, shuddering mass gradually elongated and became more defined in shape until, at last, it had been coerced into the form of a sword. "Done." Its design was decidedly archaic, Kilanya noted. That was unusual: most trainee Soulswords began by emulating the bokken they were familiar with, then graduated to the shape of a typical modern katana. That Shiki was going out of her way to emulate an ancient sword was not a problem in itself, certainly not when compared to the flaws already evident in her summoning process, but it was curious nonetheless, and Kilanya couldn't help but wonder whether this hinted towards the source of the young Menti's difficulties. "Hmm," she mused. "I can see two issues here. One is obvious and should be simple enough to correct. The other...I am unsure. It's difficult to tell, from the outside looking in." The Toroshu knelt, settling into seiza herself opposite Shiki. "First things first. Your process of shaping is improper — it's no wonder you find yourself with a brittle blade. Your material here is your very Soul, and from what I can see, you are trying to force it into shape. In so doing, you are fighting your own Self, and your blade will be imbued with that tension. That makes it brittle; that is why it shatters. "So do not try to force it. Remember, you are not forging a physical sword: the energy of the Soul is not metal to be hammered or crystal to be carved. Rather, it is like water. You must let it flow. First define the shape, the mould, and then allow your Soul to fill it."

IC (Ageru Kilanya) [Fort Kizuno, Odaiba] "No," Kilanya said. "It is not the same for everyone. Quite the opposite: each Soulsword is as unique as the soul that births it. It is an emanation of the Self; the art of the Soulsword is to reach into the heart of one's being, and forge of it a weapon. It cannot be learned by rote from another, as you have learned your drills. It requires...connection, between Mind and Soul. One must know the Self from which one is drawing." Kilanya's face and tone softened gradually as she spoke, as she settled into the rhythm of sharing well-worn knowledge: half a recitation of the Tenshuu-ryu philosophies, half an expression of deeply personal experience. "I realise this may not be of much help," she continued, with a small, rueful smile. "Words cannot fully convey the truth of what you must do, but they are a starting point. So: describe to me, if you can, the process of calling forth your blade. Not what you have been told to do, but what you think, what you feel, when you try to summon."

IC (Ageru Tazera) [Bridge of the Chiisai Ryuu] Tazera nodded slowly, careful to keep her eyes on Rudra as she did. Those raised hands might indicate surrender, but chances were they were also ready to fire off lightning bolts the moment she let her guard down. "Unlike you, I believe he came here in good faith. So yes, I'll choose to overlook his unauthorised incursion onto this vessel." She sent a quick Ideatalk to her subordinate. :Inzu, secure the prisoner.: :Yes, ma'am.: The Menti stepped forward, taking a length of sailor's rope from her waist and approaching Rudra cautiously. Tazera turned to Aeragot. "As far as I'm concerned, you're free to go. Although I can't speak for the Marines; they may want to question you as a witness. Whatever the case may be, I'd ask that you leave the ship immediately." OOC: @Razgriz @oncertainty

IC (Ageru Kilanya) [Fort Kizuno, Odaiba] Kilanya had smiled at Shiki's thoughtless words before, but not so this time. Though the young Menti was facing away and could not see the stony expression on her Toroshu's face, the aura of her disapproval was tangible enough. The leader of the Ageru was not a humourless person, but the Rahkshi were as far from a laughing matter to her as anything could be. Such jokes were the luxury of those who had not seen what the monsters were truly capable of, who had not watched them slaughter Dashi and Menti alike, who had not had to pry their own life from the jaws of death at these demons' vicious hands. Perhaps, if they were somehow victorious, the day would someday come when she herself could laugh and joke about the Rahkshi in the comfort of peace and safety. But for now, their very name was a lodestone for her hatred, fear, rage, and grief. The young Menti stopped her drills, and turned. With her single eye, Kilanya met and held her gaze intently. "Good," she said simply. Her tone was not frosty, but her voice seemed hard as iron nonetheless. "And?"

IC (Lohkar) [The Dancing Crab, Ostia] Lohkar settled back in his seat with a broad, self-satisfied smile and swigged happily from his tankard. Now this was the power of delegation. He got all the fun of the initial meet-and-greet, got to leverage the trademark Cap'n Lohkar charisma and make sure the prospective deck-swabbers knew who they were dealing with, and then Yasurek would take over for all the boring "are you in any way suited to joining a pirate crew" bollocks. Good ol' Yasurek. The lad was almost tediously dependable. He'd practically begged Lohkar to let him interview the applicants — though whether that was out of an ingrained Ko-Matoran obsession with paperwork (previously a foreign concept aboard the 'Vika), or a simple instinct of self-preservation (i.e. making sure his captain wasn't going to hire anyone criminally insane or dangerously incompetent), Lohkar couldn't tell. Either way, this was a truly elegant solution to the twin problems of not getting bored and not hiring anyone who would blow up the ship. He shifted his legs (still resting up on the table) into a slightly more comfortable position, and took another swig of rum, silently toasting productivity. OOC: @pokemonlover360 @Visaru @Snelly @Void Emissary

IC (Ageru Kilanya) [Fort Kizuno, Odaiba] A subtle smile flitted across Kilanya's face as the young Menti replied brusquely to her question. She didn't begrudge the girl her apparent disrespectfulness; it was clear she was focused intently on her training, everything else on autopilot, her words instinctive rather than considered. That was good: clearly Shiki was applying herself diligently, much as she had been in her repair work when she'd first seen her. Whatever the young Menti's problems stemmed from, it was not laziness or lack of effort. Kilanya nodded, watching. "Your form is good," she remarked. "A little stiff, perhaps, but you've learned the motions well, and you show speed and precision. This will serve you well." There was more to it than that. To Kilanya's seasoned eye, it was clear that despite Shiki's mastery of her exercises, they were still just that: exercises. They were tasks to be memorised, rules to be obeyed, not yet internalised as a part of herself, of her personal armoury of techniques. She could see it in the momentary pauses between strings: there was a beat, a reset, between the predetermined end of one set of kata and the start of the next. Though she had learned them well, each sequence did not flow into the next. They were not yet part of a greater whole, the unbroken cycle of the practised warrior. She did not tell Shiki this; there would be little to be gained from the telling. That skill could only come with time and experience. Better to give her credit for what she was doing well, and then address the more immediate issue.

IC (Vrinak the Broker) [The Warrens] The Broker was seated in a comfortably-upholstered chair, its twin placed opposite for Ispudir's usage. He smiled up at his guest as she entered, lounging nonchalantly back in his seat, cigar in hand. "Here we understand the respect a Warlord is due," he replied in his usual baritone purr, inclining his head in greeting. "It's always a pleasure to host one of my most valued customers." The room itself was little more than a cave, a chamber hewn from the bare rock, but its contents were appropriately lavish for entertaining a guest of Warlord Garsi's stature. Ornate lamps filled the room with a warm orange glow; patterned rugs softened the cold stone floor. Couches had been placed behind Ipsudir's seat for the use of her entourage (if they so chose), and a long table nearby held all manner of delicacies: ripe fruit from the Spineless Bay, bottles of fine Seprillian alcohol, cases of Vrinak's signature cigars, and more. It went without saying that they were all of the finest quality. "And of course, you and your men are most welcome to any refreshment" — he gestured to the long table and its goods — "you may desire." The Broker's men lined the outside of the room and the entrance — just enough of them to subtly outnumber Ispudir's, but no more. They stood with carefully neutral stances and expressions, watching the Warlord and her men carefully. Each was visibly armed; again, just enough so to remind all those present that the Broker was a well-protected man, especially within his own base of operations. "So," Vrinak continued, locking eyes with his guest and taking a draw from his cigar, "what can I do for you today, Lady Garsi?" OOC: @Mel @Visaru @Geardirector

I'll let those involved in other interactions answer for themselves, but for my part, Clan Ageru is the main force holding the line against Makuta's forces on Odaiba. They've been pushed back to a foothold near Sado, controlling barely enough land to feed the remaining Dasaka population in the Archipelago, and under constant threat of attack by Rahkshi and infected Rahi. Kilanya, leader of the Ageru, is one of the few Toroshu who chose to remain behind during the evacuation. She currently commands the Dasaka forces on Odaiba from Fort Kizuno, an old fortress situated near the front line. The war has been brutal, and the Dasaka have sustained heavy losses, but Kilanya nonetheless stands and fights among her troops to bolster morale. Right now, Kilanya has just returned to Kizuno from the war council on Sado, and is overseeing a training session at the fort. For the moment, there is a lull in the fighting and reinforcements from Clan Dastana (now the ruling clan of Kentoku) are expected, but who knows how long things will stay quiet? If you'd like to have your character be one of the Menti defending Odaiba, they'd be most welcome. They wouldn't have to be an Ageru, by the way: the invasion has shaken up the usual order of things, and Kilanya's forces are made up of Menti of all stripes.

IC (Lohkar) [The Dancing Crab, Ostia] Lohkar, meanwhile, didn't so much as flinch at the sudden appearance of the assassin-turned-sailor. He gave her a nod and grin in greeting and turned his attention back to Verak. "Thought you were lookin' different some'ow," he remarked. "What's the story?" OOC: @Visaru @Snelly @Void Emissary

IC (Lohkar) [The Dancing Crab, Ostia] "Dunno if I'd say dire need," Lohkar replied with a smirk. "But aye, you'd be welcome aboard. Long as you don't make yourself too much of a liability." He took another swig. "I seem to remember you bein' one o' the few people around who can make me look cautious an' prudent." OOC: @Visaru @Void Emissary

IC (Lohkar) [The Dancing Crab, Ostia] Lohkar squinted briefly at the newcomer, then grinned in recognition. "Oh it's you!" he exclaimed. "Virok! No...Vekar...? Wait!" One finger shot up, as if to silence any corrections. "It'll come to me." ... "Verak-" "VERAK! Well, the other Verak. Just as well — never did like the first one." He raised his flagon in greeting. "Good to see ya, mate! What brings you to this charming den of iniquity?" The reclining captain took a glug of rum and raised an eyebrow conspiratorially. "Heard the good news?" OOC: @Visaru @Void Emissary

IC (Lohkar) [The Dancing Crab, Ostia] Gunner's look was answered with a lazy grin. "It's an investment, mate, an investment. When 'ave I ever steered us wrong, eh?"

IC (Syrik) [Echelon's Lair] The air was heavy with tension as Kreigero took the proffered bundle of medical supplies, the glacial cave quiet save for the faint drip and gurgle of meltwater. With the handover completed, Syrik smiled and returned the Matoran's nod, though that sharp glint never left his eyes. "Well, then." He stepped back to his previous spot near Aerus and the door, and turned back to the travellers once more. He looked slowly to each of them in turn, one last time. "Safe journey," he said. His tone was superficially sincere, but it carried the faintest undertones of both amusement and threat. "Be careful out there." OOC: @BULiK @Tarn @~Xemnas~ @Goose

IC (Ageru Tazera) [Bridge of the Chiisai Ryuu] Military composure be ****ed, Tazera would have rolled her eyes if it hadn't meant taking them off the two Toa. She settled for pursing her lips tight in frustration instead. Had she not made it clear that she was trying to arrest the thief, not kill him? Even in the face of his absolute refusal to abandon his attempted hijacking? Was the black-armoured Toa so gullible that he was falling prey to such obvious manipulation by this charlatan? Was the threat of execution such anathema to the locals that it had deafened him to everything else she'd said? Or was he deliberately misunderstanding her for reasons of his own, perhaps to justify throwing in his lot with this 'Rudra'? "I have no intention of executing him," she said, exercising heroic levels of restraint to keep her words slow and level, giving each its full weight. "My intention is to detain him and turn him over to the Ga-Koronan authorities. He will be tried by your people, and under your laws. Is this acceptable to you?" Perhaps she was giving the Toa too much credit, taking his words in good faith and assuming he would listen to reason. She hoped she wasn't. OOC: @oncertainty @Razgriz @Vezok's Friend No worries! It's been a busy time for most of us.

IC (Syrik) [Echelon's Lair] Silence reigned again for a moment as Savrehn became the new target of Syrik's unblinking stare. Then the Toa smiled, and nodded. "That's good to hear," he said. "I was worried for a moment there." He stepped forward towards the closest of the Matoran and held out the roll of bandages and vial of disinfectant. "Here."

IC (Syrik) [Echelon's Lair] Silence hung heavy in the frigid air. Whether Syrik was expecting Kreigero to elaborate, or keeping quiet for some other reason of his own, the others could only guess at. His gaze remained locked with the Ko-Matoran's. The faint not-quite-smile did not waver until he spoke again. "And...is he all right?"

IC (Ageru Kilanya) [Fort Kizuno, Odaiba] The afternoon passed quickly; Kilanya's sweep of the fort was thorough but uneventful, showing the defences to be in an acceptable state and the supply stocks at satisfactory levels. Returning to the command chambers near the top of the donjon, she received updates from various aides as to the status of the Odaiba foothold in her absence: Rahkshi activity levels, safety and efficiency of supply routes, condition of outer defensive emplacements... By the time the setting sun had begun to paint the clouds in pink and gold, she was at last fully appraised of everything and free to inspect the training session where she expected to find young Shiki. The Kizuno training ground was not the Yards, where classes were meticulously grouped by experience, talent and specialisation; they had neither the numbers nor the time for that. A rough delineation by Discipline was the most the overworked instructors could manage: here a group of Sighteyes conjuring the particular decoys that had been found effective against Rahkshi, there a squad of Mindarms lifting boulders and hurling spears. Sitting meditating in a circle, the Willhammers were the smallest group, since their Discipline had shown itself to be more a liability than an asset against this alien foe. There were even a number of Dashi volunteers, practicing spear drills in unison with lengths of bamboo standing in for yari. Kilanya stopped by each group in turn, offering praise or correction where warranted, and generally making her presence felt. Unsurprisingly given the large Ageru presence, the Soulswords were the largest group. They were also the ones Kilanya spent the most time with: here she could give practical demonstrations as well as feedback. As she walked slowly between the lines of practicing swordswomen, she stopped here and there to illustrate proper form for the many Tenshuu-ryu sword techniques, and spar briefly with some of the more advanced learners. She thought — or hoped — that the trainees were imbued with a new energy and diligence after receiving instruction directly from their Toroshu. It was the least she could do to prepare them for the unforgiving battlefield Odaiba had become. Eventually she reached the young Menti she'd met earlier in the day. She approached with the same commander's gait as before: tightly controlled steps, back straight, hands clasped behind her. "Shiki," she said, greeting her with a small nod. "How goes your practice?" OOC: @Razgriz