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IC: Myhruk [Ta-Koro, Alley]

The Lesterin watched with interest as the Toa's knuckles contacted the stone wall. He was surprised to see the stranger being so open to his ideas. He got the sense that they understood each other quite well, despite being different species, delivering justice through different means, and not even knowing each other's names.

"Mmmm," he nodded in agreement. He leaned against his own wall, crossed arms silently nursing their own aching as he watched the generalist intently. The Toa seemed nearly as young as he was... and yet something in his optics made it seem like he had been around longer than the vigilante.

"Are charred trees tougher than live ones, or did you just run out of trees in Le?"

The fool admitted that expanding his own repertoire might be the wise move. The thought of the city boy trading his jungle for a real one was as intriguing as it was frightening. He knew every street of his city. Maybe the stranger knew every tree like he knew every wall (How big was a forest anyways? Couple hundred trees?). How deep could his bag of tricks get if this was all he knew?

The generalist knew what it was like to be somewhere else. Do other things. Maybe the wall warrior would have ended up the same way himself, had he only washed ashore on a different beach. They had a silent understanding and that kept the truth evident. Rarely did the loner have the opportunity to have such grounded advice given so freely.

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IC: Jolek

The soft thumping rung through his bones, inaudible to the world around him as he mulled over the question. The thought of running out of trees was absurd, for one— but then again, the original wall-whacker didn't seem to be too familiar with the jungle. Even now, his monochrome counterpart wasn't certain if he was truly all too familiar with the city. Who was to say it was any different, then from him all of... how long had it been? A year ago? A few months? A decade? He'd never kept track, instead just letting it pass.

In a way, it must have seemed like looking at a mirror of the road not taken. The tangle of wood and vine regarding and being regarded by the grid of stone and ash. A "dabbler" versus a "generalist". Trees and Walls.

Known and Discovered.

"Depends on the tree." he replied, enigmatic in the statement of the obvious. "Young ones with fruits like bananas are soft. Bendy. You can put all the force you can handle into it. Get good enough that you smash them down in time. Charred ones we've got here are stiffer. Brittle. Dry. Hard surface, but no give."

Thump.

His hand had pulled back until the fingertips brushed the stone behind again— and now swiftly turned over as the knuckles careened back into the wall with a stern report. Only so much velocity you could build up over a few inches; not enough to break skin, but enough to feel and compare.

"But the hardwoods are different. They're big and dense, and their bark'll bend you long before you bend them. If you know what you're doing, you're not gonna blast those anywhere close to full speed. If you don't..."

Half-theatrically, but wholly illustratively, he pulled the knuckles free from the pub behind him and shook them out. If anything, the wall might have been more forgiving on simple account of smoother surface, now that he'd done both.

Here, he folded his arms in kind and leaned back into the relatively cool stone, before his eyes and head drifted South.

"This whole town wouldn't be able to run out of either of 'em, let alone me. Not for a long time."

Edited by Razgriz
"In building a house, there is the problem of the selection of wood... all such things are within the master carpenter's frame of mind. The principles of the martial arts are like this."
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IC: Myhruk [Ta-Koro, Alley]

He watched with care, admiring the delicate planning and finesse of the movements as the Toa experimented with punching Ta-Koro's soot-stained walls.

He slowly nodded for a few moments, as if imagining what a banana tree was for the first time, before throwing a much more conclusive nod in the walldenting protégé's direction.

"Yea."

There was a kikanalo in the room, though. Myhruk was trying to remember something important that he really needed to know now...

"Y'know, one time, somebody told me that all the way over in Le-Koro, they make walls out of trees, right? Ever punched one of those?"

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IC: Jolek

Still staring in the direction of home?, the Fa-Toa's eyes narrowed for a moment, coming to a conclusion with an unspoken process.

"...Nope."

Maybe before he'd washed up, but that would have just been like all his family's stories to the conversation they were having now— secondhand.

A beat later— No, two— Three, the—

"Never been, actually."

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IC: Myhruk [Ta-Koro]

huh.

"huh."

Not having a city meant not having a home. And sawmill had been in the jungle for a while from the sounds of things - no, he grew up there, those were the words.

"hmmph..."

Sounded awful.

"You get lost in all those trees?"

Maybe that's why the Toa wanted to punch them so much.

"If you've never been to their Koro... where have you been?"

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IC: Jolek

"Nah. I'm good with directions."

That one flippant, devil-may-care, assured by an adolescence of proof.

"I've been... Here. Here and In There."

This one none of that. Ponderous, strained. Faltering, as though there was more that needed, or maybe desired dictation. Yet couldn't, regardless.

"Ga and Ko once, too, but only passed by."

An afterthought, and not pretending they weren't. If he'd been pressed by his counterpart, he would've barely been able to name anything he'd done in either. When he pressed himself, for that matter, he could only come up with an idea of "something about a school?"

He wasn't hiding anything— it wasn't him. However vexed it might leave the Lesterin, This was It.

He clicked his tongue.

"Signed on before I could fill the gap. Bombing and all— Speaking of, I should ask the same:"

His eyes met the Lesterin's again, finally. Still narrowed, searching, they weren't hostile— just direct. Following a lead that was personal, not professional.

"Lotta Lesterin and Skakdi we've got on call have had new memories turn up out of the blue on them lately. You from that..."

 

"Seprilli...that's the island I'm originally from. It's the homeland of all Lesterin. I'm not sure why, but I remember it now."

 

"Seprilli place too?" 

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IC: Myhruk [Ta-Koro, Streets]

Ta-Koro's son nodded along. "Here and In There." yeah, he'd been there too.

Ga? No, but he'd seen a beach once. Maybe a few times. Facial features raised in an expression of interest.

Ko? He'd seen Ihu... over the shoulder of Mangai, distorted by the volcano's plumes. Hung out near the cablecar sometimes, but that's as close as he'd gotten. He looked almost confused why a jungle kid would go up there, it looked cold. Maybe their trees were different, too. He'd seen a few on the side of the mountain.

Oh, only in passing. That made more sense. Probably took the cablecar down.

The Lesterin was surprised that jungle boy seemed frustrated by his own meager response. A furrowed brow, as if his own escapades escaped him. Truth be told, the brickbuster himself felt the same way lately. Yeah he'd been around the block forever, but it felt like he hadn't done anything yet. That one day the recurring nightmare he woke up to started to change. Felt like every day it was more real, and there was more to it. Lately he had this strange gut feeling that there was more out there. Not more out there than Ta-Koro - he begrudgingly admitted that - but more out there like a part of him was missing out there. But so far gone that he didn't know what to even look for.

Until his new pal asked a question back. The clocked-out cop didn't notice anything abnormal in the confused kid's eyes, in fact, his response was chill and matter of fact

"Yeah, grew up there. Helped my pops run his ferry over to the spineless bay over on Zakaz. Couple times we even went as far as Zarrava, but he tried to keep me on the boat for that. Dangerous waters and all - was just a kid, so I don't blame him. But yeah we mostly we stayed on Sssss."

Until he reached a word that he never remembered that he knew.

"Sp-"

"Sppp-"

"Suuuuhhhhh-"

"Supper-"

"Real-"

"Really?-"

There was a ringing in his ear as the word repeated itself past the point of shattering into a mixture of sounds. They clashed like swordsmen, until the blades crossed and aligned into a marker of his past and future, a magnetic pull in his own blood as it swirled in circular loops inside his short circuiting brain.

SSSSSSSS
SEEEEEEE
SEPPPPPP
SEPRRRRR
SEPRIIII
SEPRILLL
SEPRILLL
SEPRILLI

The estranged son of Seprilli blinked, eyes widening, pupils dilating as if he had just exited a trance. The scared Lesterin shivered and wobbled as if he had lost his balance despite leaning against the wall. His arms uncrossed instinctually, reaching out to either side to balance himself.

"WAIT, what did you- why did you say-? What???"

Edited by BULiK
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IC: Jolek

"Yeesh, is that what that looks like in real time? Steady. Steady." he blurted openly, bounding off the wall to plant a hand onto the staggering Lesterin's shoulder. Though concern flitted across the features of his Pakari, it was marred by confusion and consternation in equal measure. A melange of tight frown and narrowed brow that couched his eyes as he took in the sudden outburst from what was formerly a tight-wound stoic of a man.

"Maybe I should be glad I've still been in the dark— So that's you remembering this Seprilli and Zay-Kazz place for sure. Really is everyone..."

Except him.

If the names were enough to trigger it, then by now, he could prove that this had nothing to do with him.

Well. In fairness, he already knew that. Just ruled out something unlikely.

But still, that was then, whatever had happened. Compared to this, happening now, it was a mercy to forget.

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IC: Myhruk [Ta-Koro, Alley]

"I don't- I just said that but I don't know why I don't- why did I say that. I don't know it, but I know it's it, you know?" the flustered and scared Lesterin rambled. He took a few deep breaths with closed eyes, deep in a concentration as frustration grew on his brow.

He let out an irritated grunt and looked the samaritan in the eye.

"Ever forget something you were just thinking about? Get distracted once and it's gone but you remember that it's gone, and that's more annoying and you wish you forgot that you forgot? It's like it was there and now it's gone again..."

He lamented further, slowly reeling his emotions back in with a gritted jaw. I had a dad? Have, a dad?

After a few moments, he picked up on what treeman had mentioned.

"You're a washup too?"

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IC: Jolek

"Yeah."

He nodded simply. Speaking again, he answered the questions, all rhetorical until the last, in sequence.

"Yeah. I have, but not for this."

Inscrutable. Focused more on listening along than clearly conveying.

"Yeah. I am."

Edited by Razgriz
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IC: Jolek

...

The pause hung, churning in the air.

He had approached this one every which way— come to and left each conclusion.

"Hard to say."

Seeing what had happened to him? No, not really. To reconcile half a childhood with an entirely different half a childhood, an identity and personality forged from the void, however nascent, with whatever had entered it and experienced dissolution... it all looked like it was twisting his new acquaintance in a knot. Like the synthesis of was and is was as torturous as it could ever be considered cathartic.

...Seeing the house he'd been living in, and remembering the faces of those that had claimed him theirs? Yes. To know who he was to them, to feel what they felt when they'd all but burst into tears at the relief of retrieving what they thought irrevocably lost. To understand the ties that bound them to him, and he to they— the network of pulls upon his person, links of life and memory that had been in one swoop shattered. To know, and be whole in knowing. To look upon his blood, and share their joy.

But it never seemed like that was going to matter.

"More like I haven't known enough now. You know? Memories."

Forget those lost.

Where were those he should have made?

Edited by Razgriz
Officer J01.3-K. You ready? Let's begin.
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IC: Myhruk [Ta-Koro]

"Yeah."

Probably why the fella brought it up - he'd seen the signs from others. Whispers. Reminded him of whatever past he wasn't getting back. Had to be frustrating.

"Dunno if I'd want to go back. There's always a 'somewhere' for folks like us, but knowing that somewhere isn't nowhere isn't any better if I'll still never be there. Is what it is, y'know?"

A sigh. He pushed himself off of the away with a clenched fist, standing up straight with a nod of thanks for helping keep him stable earlier. The stone was familiar. Reminded him of something... what had they been talking about? Oh yeah.

"Maybe we should punch the ocean."

Hard to say if that was a joke or not.

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IC: Myhruk [Ta-Koro]

"Yeah, can't swim either."

...

...

...

"Well, I think? If what I said was true, then... hmm..."

...

...

...

"What if swimming is just punching the ocean hard enough?"

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IC: Jolek

"It's..."

Oh lord. This guy needed help.

"It's more like scooping it. I never got anywhere punching water."

...

Well.

It'd been a few years.

It might feel good.

Lord knew his armor could use a break from soot.

"Honestly, you oughta never punch like you're swimming. Don't think swimming like you punch* is too good either."

*Unless very bad at punching, but fix that.

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IC: Myhruk [Ta-Koro, Alley]

He nodded pensively. He would take the jungle-raised's word on what things were like outside of the caldera.

"Say, these guys who've started to remember things - any of them remember where to find this Seprilli place? How far away it is?"

I guess the distance didn't matter that much if he couldn't swim in the first place. But if it was close enough, all he had to do was learn how to swim a little bit, right? Just point him in the right direction, and keep at it for a few hours? Surely he could learn to swim that long if he tried, if he had a good reason to. Maybe practice swimming instead of punching walls as an outlet for his angst?

Edited by BULiK
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IC: Jolek

"Well," he began, running back over what he'd known. "Just today I had a girl blaming some Pirate named Lokhar for getting from there to here."

It was a name that'd popped up a few times before Hakari, but not so often that it seemed like he was the end-be-all answer to everything. If his pugilistic cohort recognized him, then it'd speed along the same lines as last time— maybe Jol's last name would help him out here too. If not...

"Point of order being that it sounds like it's pretty far— past that fog you see way out on the cliffs. Need a ship for sure to get there."

Back to general terms. There was only so much help he could give here, and not simply due to his own gaps in knowledge, either. More to the point—

"That'd mean taking a hike to Ga, same way I sent her." he conferred. "It's not like we've got much of a port, let alone any Navy— couple of docks, really. The naval minded are packing their things and going north. You..."

There were a few guards he could send this guy to to compare notes, but he'd not known any of them well. Gyrahn, A Skakdi of Earth, had invited him for drinks wiuth the fellas once, but been politely rebuffed as the fa-Toa was walking home. They'd not spoken three words since. Lasavra, a normally flighty wind Lesterin, seemed to close off whenever he caught her muttering about the sudden memories of Seprilli, like she didn't trust him listening in. The Rumbling Brothers, a Fe-Skakdi that Fought as much as he Drank and a Fe-Lesterin that Drank as much as he Fought, already didn't seem to like him— "too quiet. It's weird that he doesn't make a fool of himself a little." he'd overheard, before both gave him the side-eye as he'd ambled through the training area, before returning to packing their bags.

Effectively, he didn't think any of these weirdos would help, and the others would barely know his name if the man dropped it.

May as well just go the more direct route, in Jolek's opinion.

"Your chances are much better if you swing up there and get through an actual crew."

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IC: Myhruk [Ta-Koro]

As his brother in spirit continued to speak, the Lesterin slowly realized that swimming all the way, while not only being infeasible, was bad for another reason. One of his greatest fears was being on a boat and it sinking and him drowning like he did in his dreams every night. Swimming was like doing that, but skipping the boat part and bellyflopping right into the drowning part, and with no flotsam to cling to before hypothermia set in. That wouldn't do at all.

"Hmm..."

By comparison, a boat, as devilish a contraption as it may be, may be tolerable. As long as he didn't have to get close to the water. Like, maybe a big boat. If he was in a big boat with walls and there weren't windows, who's to say that wasn't the same as being drunk while being inside of a cramped building? And he did that all of the time in Ta.

"Maybe."

His hand clenched into a fist, but this didn't come at his advisor at any speed. The fist lingered in between them, ready to be bumped in classic Toa fashion. That's what all the Toa did, right? He'd be used to it.

"Thanks bro."

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IC: Jolek

"No worries, bro."

It felt familiar, his rock-hard knuckles tapping against a friend's of similar mindset and conditioning. Once, this had been a daily occurrence.

Once, it had been the signifier of a promise, just as much as this one was a friendship. The Lesterin seemed to have clear heading now— the fog of confusion that had knotted up his face no longer seemed to cloud his bearings. What the man had said was non-committal, sure—

But this wasn't the first time Jolek had seen a renewed purpose and drive alight in the direction of this "Seprilli" even today. He'd find his way there, doubtless. He'd dig up whatever past was worth finding from the new memories and shape his future with it. 

Learn. Grow. Experience. 

This would be a journey in far more than mind, far more than miles—

The kind that he was supposed to go on, before he began spinning his wheels.

What the karz had happened to that?

"Good luck."

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IC: Myhruk [Ta-Koro]

"Likewise."

The exchange completed, he strolled out of the alleyway, passing a gallery of dents along the way. After quickly grabbing a Infernavika burrito at one of his favorite stands, he snagged a seat on an Ussal-driven cart that would take the Hura Mafa trail to Ga-Koro.

Myhruk left the frustrated kid back in his home of Ta-Koro. In that alley with all the scrapes he'd made. Myhruk saw how he had been holding himself back. To find out who he was, Myhruk needed to be someone else. Someone strong. A player of games, a bystander no longer.

As he ate, Myhruk wondered when he'd come back to his home city. When he got back from Seprilli it'd be pretty awesome if he could tell -

Wait.

What was that guy's name?

He'd never asked his name.

####.

OOC: Myhruk to Ga-Wahi

Edited by BULiK
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  • 3 weeks later...

IC: Jolek {Returning to Familiarity}

And without a word more, the winds carried dust out to sea.

The gray man watched silently as his erstwhile accomplice vanished into the grid of the city's footpaths, towards self-enlightenment. No waves or extended farewells this time— if he had to guess, the Lesterin felt much the same as he regarding the gestures. Ornamentative, unnecessary. Somehow out of place within the understanding they shared, men of similar trade, similar ambition.

He let his gaze fall back to his knuckles as the dabbling brawler rounded the bend and left his vision altogether. Still tingling from the alien sensation of striking solid rock, however lightly, he could sense his own body yearning to go somewhere, just as that guy's was.

The second he'd sent off towards the shimmering waters to the north of here today— he didn't claim to have ever kept track, but that had to be a new record. The scenery of a city always had some small changes in that way— faces arriving and leaving. He'd not even caught the other fighter's name, or even really placed whether or not his was a face standing out as familiar in the formless mobs of the village's citizens. But he understood that feeling, the one that drove him to test his knuckles against something firm.

That strengthening oneself made the difference, in lieu of those miracles like this "Seprilli". The need to lose oneself in the rhythm, and stop worrying about the worldly troubles that plagued your head, filled your thoughts. He'd done it millions of times. He'd do it a million times more. After all, he'd taken to the evening streets with that very purpose— meeting his fellow man and sending him on the journey (that everyone seemed to join these days) was... incidental.

I'd better head out before night. He concluded with a snort, expelling acrid air from the musty atmosphere brough on by high inner-city walls. Ash's thick today. I'll barely get any moonlight to work under.

And so, the more things around him changed...

He started off again, back out east towards the gate at a steady run. Built-in road work of getting to the proper scenery was certainly an extra boon here— all the slacking had made his endurance feel like it'd dipped. Hard work beat the stuffing out of hardly working, when it was a match between this and trudging around the residences. Elly had more than once looked at him crosswise for looking forward to this at the end of the day...

But this stuff just kept his head on straight.

Small plumes of ash kicked up in the wake of his staccato footfalls, he surged out the gates, off for the trees.

 

—————

 

The forest, like always, was still. A field of gray glowing softly crimson as the lava floes gained more prominence as the light above dimmed, and streaked with jagged black lines of burnished trees. to think such an explosive scuffle'd occurred here, just a few hours ago... You wouldn't have imagined it, really. In Ta-Koro, the scene would have lasted well into the night— investigative procedure would see to that.

Guards filing papers of after-action report, conducting interviews with bystanders to get a read on the situational play-by-play, cleanup of whatever damage it had wrought in the aftermath, all that and the kitchen sink. It would have dragged on ages, whereas here...

He breathed in deep, staring down the medium-sized trunk some arm and a half's length ahead, and settled into a familiar stance. His right foot sliding back and away from the left, around a shoulder's width. His arms rising in turn, hands closing into loose fists in front of him. Rear projected slightly in front of the brow line, guarding, catching, parrying. Lead extended forward by half, rising and falling subtly with his breath. There to probe, to flicker, to frame, to punish.

...Here, things melted away once they finished. There was no aftermath, there wasn't real follow-up, no sense of lingering question. It just was, and then was not, as things settled again into the quiet equilibrium around him.

He needed that these days. In truth, he might have liked it every day and just not known it, back when it was the simple way of things and all he knew— but he was here now because that had ended up anything but. Today was different. The past months were different. Two people chasing the memories he'd never regained in one day. Two people off to forge new self-perspectives. Two he'd sent on the exact kind of mission he'd told himself to set out on, before all this. Over and over, that sense circled through the empty hallways of his mind, in a way nothing had yet been able to shake. He was growing real tired of thinking like this, of suffering through that same feeling of watching beneath still water as the surface rushed by.

He ground his lead foot in a short arc against his "flooring", pushing loose ash, soil, and debris to the side.

THONK.

"Ssssh. Hrmf—"

And a dull, hollow thudding rung through the stillness, setting the air astir with the sounds of eight limbs striking the stern bark of the tree, chased by a Fa-Toa exhaling his turbulent thoughts into the void.

Jab.

Follow with a Cross.

Should I be here?

Rock back onto the rear leg, sling the hips over until on the ball of that foot. Lead leg follows through, arcing high.

Head kick.

WHAP.

Well, yeah. This is good. Iron out the kinks. Never a bad time to condition.

Ride the rebound once it's sunk in, rechambering the leg into stance. Hitting with the shin's of no consequence, since this isn't full speed and your dense bones are long numbed to anything less, only registering the impact instead of pain. Let it carry you forward as your guard raises again, folding it in tighter—

THUD.

Elbow across the jaw with the rear arm. While in this close, reach out with that hand to the side of the trunk. Your lead was already there to guide the strike, so take it just a little above that hand—

Not here. More like... Here.

Picture the Skakdi from this afternoon, and knee his ****** nose in. Getting a second or third in isn't bad at all— tree ain't going anywhere. But if we consider this a clinch... break it on your terms.

Shove away as you fade back into open space— Eh. Could have pivoted there too, maintained a dominant angle.

Let that idea slide off so long as you keep it in mind as an option. Front kick to the trunk while you're this far away, then. Control distance if you're gonna think. Two lead leg, last rear—

I don't take your meaning.

Jab too. It's your safest weapon, and pretty long in it's own right. Stepping into it felt good, so follow it up—

Yes you do, Jolek.

His cross elicited a deep, cracking report as it landed, a ramrod rear straight that made the 1-2 such a deadly staple in fighting. The tree shook wholly as his knuckles dug into bark and bark dug into knuckles, a pained shudder running through the length of its many branches and shaking leaves loose.

As the fist shot back into his guard, he idly noted how it throbbed and clicked his tongue, electing to double check just how deep he was sinking his hips into the hook to the liver that instinctively followed. He did need this, then— either to remind himself how to have total control of his weapons... or to get whatever the karz had snapped in there all the way out of him.

He continued on.

Let the flow of technique into technique into technique dictate things. All you need to worry about is your power, your placement, and your potential. This is the best you can manage for it here.

It was all there was in the world, and all that he needed.

Past and future do not exist.

Just optimize this present moment, find its frame, and embody it.

The thudding impacts continued to ring out from the man and the tree, in this world all their own. One could scarcely fault him for failing to notice anything else.

OOC: You know the drill.

Edited by Razgriz
"As for the Way of the above style of martial art, by endeavoring to put it into practice morning and evening, day in and day out, your mind should broaden itself... Passing this onto the world, I write this down for the first time in the five chapters."
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  • 1 month later...

IC: Zelvin (Charred Forest)

Zelvin had long since bid her farewell to the people who had either accompanied her or gotten pulled into the aftermath of her little arrest action in the forest. The two criminals were firmly secured with bonds that she had just conjured up out of her own power, and their weapons were coming along slung over her back.

She glanced back towards the forest before she turned for good towards the west and the way upwards. Time to cash in the bounty.

OOC: Zelvin to Ko-Wahi. Just needed to get this one out finally. @Razgriz especially thanks for coming along.

@Zasshu you can assume Chiaki was also compensated for his help with this little caper.

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  • 3 months later...

OOC: Fowadi from Ga-Wahi.

IC: Dehkaz [Ta-Wahi Coast, Rehu Cove]

Dawn broke over the horizon gradually, the enveloping blackness of the night slowly giving way to a dim blue that filled the sky and cast the coastline and waves in a muted grey. There was a slight, if steady, wind blowing westward towards the shore, far cry from the gales which normally swept in from the Endless Ocean. The sea around the volcanic outcroppings that rose like jagged spikes from the ocean was inordinately calm as a result, though the scalloped, eroded faces of the black stone was evidence enough of the tempestuous state familiar to the waters.

It was, of course, not by chance that the iron warship found the sea with such a disposition as it sailed between the spires. Their arrival was calculated, nearly down to the hour, as needed to navigate the ebb and flow of the turbulent tides off the Ta-Wahi shores. Only her topsails were set, and she proceeded along her course at a comparatively leisurely, or perhaps careful, pace. For her crew the narrow passages and shifting currents presented an opportunity for them to master their vessel's sailing characteristics, where she would give and where she would push back. Her partially laiden state, indeed the bright anti-fouling cladding of her hull just visible above the waterline, provided them with a degree of forgiveness and ample amounts of responsiveness to avoid running aground.

Out in the distance, past the last array of weathered volcanic outcroppings, the shore awaited. The sandy Ta-Wahi coastline contrasted sharply with the black cliffs that rose sharply behind the slight dunes, the disparity becoming more apparent by the minute as the sun crested the horizon opposite. It wasn't until, with great care and skill on the part of her crew, the Fowadi swung around the last of the stone pillars that her destination was visible. Though it was only a short time thereafter that they reached the dockside.

* * *

The collection of planking and stone which Ta-Koro used to lay claim to the sea was far cry from the ports which they had sailed from, but it served them just as well. So Dehkaz mused as he stepped off the gantry onto the dock which they had moored themselves to. While the ironclad took up space at the sole berth deep enough to accommodate her, there were still a fair number of smaller fishing and trade ships about. Indeed, even a scattering of small crystalline vessels were found taking shelter from Ta-Wahi's unforgiving tides among the quayside, something which the Toa of Magnetism took an interested note of.

Larger, sturdier gangways onto the ironclad were already bustling with activity. Crew were corralling ussal up onto the moored ship, the hardy crustaceans hauling carts stacked high with metallic canisters. The few officers keeping watch over the precision, and their somewhat consternated expressions, gave some clue as to the explosive contents of the cargo. It would take the better part of a day for the munitions to be loaded onto the deck, and then even longer for them to be properly secured in the armored magazines below, so the majority of the crew not involved in the process were free to take leave.

* * *

The toa of Magnetism elected to walk the remainder of the well-traveled path to Ta-Koro, the once small footpath through the sand now lined with slabs of basalt rock and wooden planks. Occasionally stepping aside to allow a cart traveling towards or from the dockside, he was otherwise unaccompanied. The solitary trip gave him plenty of time to consider the previous days events, take stock of the new information learned from his and others' various conversations.

There was much to consider.

While the sudden arrival of what amounted to an entire foreign nation right at their doorstep was by far the most immediate, the insights Krayn gleaned from his talk with the Maru were far more pertinent to the journey which appeared to be beginning to present itself. It was now obvious Makuta's influence and power extended far beyond their own island; cutting off his influence on Mata Nui was no longer enough.

Such thoughts held the captain’s attention long after he had entered the incinerated husks of the forest that surrounded the village of fire, the temperature of the immediate area beginning to rise far above that of the cool seaside he had been walking along prior. Even though he knew it was nearing midday, the ash suspended in the air and crisscrossing remains of the forest’s upper canopy blotted out what sunlight would have graced the stone and dirt ground. A grey, dim glow filled the area, presenting a uniform ambience to the charred environment that confounded any sense of progress through its trees. If it weren’t for the stone pathway, and his own ever present sense of direction, getting lost amongst the treeline was a definite possibility.

A sound broke the toa of Magnetism out of his contemplative reverie, a muffled thump that reverberated through the surroundings and bounced off the blackened trunks. Then it came again, some distance into the murk off to his left. It didn’t sound like a Rahi, of that he was certain. Too sharp, and certainly too loud. No creature willingly announced its presence in that way. It came again, then twice more, and Dehkaz began to realize there was a tempo to it. A rhythm and intent.

Curiosity piqued, he stepped off the path and into the brush, keeping a careful eye out for what could possibly lay ahead.

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IC: Jolek {A Chance Meeting}

A line of crimson wetness ran down his leg, long ago smashed numb against trees much like this. He hardly noticed such things anymore because of that same nerve deadening, thousands of hours conditioning the bones to grow dense, durable, and strong. A break in the skin, instead, caused it— in turn not being cause for alarm. 

As if to drive the point the prose makes home, the wayward young magnetic chucked his hips over again, as the streaking silver and red smashed into the dented trunk of the sapling once more, impact ringing out through the ashen haze unbidden. It had been... a while, now. In truth, the greyed-out scenery that he had surrounded himself in was perpetually "overcast" on its best day. It didn't make for easy tracking of the passage of time, given how sparsely sun and lava floes both penetrated the hanging curtain that smothered the forest. All he really had to measure was the dimming and brightening, however fractional, the burn in his lungs, and the ache in his trunk.

Rechambered by the recoil as the leg fell back to earth, his lead hand whipped back around to a hook at jaw level, collision "empty" compared to when he began. It was a natural progression through the time he'd spent in this state of mindless contemplation— at some point, the energy reserves would begin to dry, and necessitate just loosely whipping through the form compared to sitting down on full-powered weight transfer. Closer now to shadowboxing with recoil, to put it one way— another would be letting the technique fill even a tired frame. This was where endless hours of work, in this exact manner, showed itself— all too often, fatigue would lead to the technique itself breaking down, as the practitioner would try and wrench power out of spent, burning muscles that had none left to give. Better, always better, to give up on force in that eventuality. Connections would happen on their own. The bed was made by doing it right so often you could never do it wrong.

There was so much else that could be done, anyway. Distancing work, playing with rhythm and cadence, mixing levels of attack along the body— none of this required a full tank of gas. All of it would carry enormous dividends in combat if it could be maintained through exhaustion. Power was a privilege to have, a blessing that came and went with the circumstance.

The craft, in all its purity, would never lie and never leave. Even if energy, even if memory, even if consciousness was gone, craft was still there, holding stalwart vigil.

Right hand followed, just a half-step off beat. Head dipped further to the side as the guard returned, closed like an oyster's shell, to the brow— slipping outside a right of the imagined opponent by less than an inch. That torsion that moved him off center line then released, as he came back around with a digging shovel hook to somewhere close to the usual liver. It stamped into the soft bark deep, but unlike his shin, the skin had refused to break through the night. Hands carried less weight than legs. Even as power backed off over time, the latter was always going to be rougher on both parties.

A subtle shift back heralded the leg going high once more, smacking the tree at that same, distinct point before he rechambered stance fully, taking himself back out to "long" range.

He jabbed here, idly, before stepping in low to throw the right to solar plexus.

Hips chambered. Finish this, then address the elephant in the room.

A lead uppercut brought the jaw high, splitting most guards and raising a posture— then torqued around for a crushing hook across the temple in succession, eschewing traditional loading of weight and cadence for surprise, speed, and exploitation of forced openings. To fall into a standard left-right-left-right-left-right order would bake in predictable habits. Any idiot, given enough exposure, would be able to start reading, evading, and countering an unbroken, staccacto rhythm. You had to know how to play options that strayed from that path, regardless of whether or not you could fully blast your entire weight through them. If you didn't, you'd be the one being surprised when it was broken.

Finally, Highwind exhaled, a long, ragged sigh that belied the true state of his lungs, the dryness in his throat, and the sag of his shoulders. He hadn't been going at anything resembling a full clip for ages, but even so, the constant, slow burn of accumulated exertion was waves against his rocky, wearing coast.

He wasn't alone.

Without much dramatization to the movement, he turned out in the direction of the road, leaving stance and folding his arms across himself, a mirror to the silent observer he'd picked up maybe five, maybe ten minutes ago. The splotch or blur of blue, only just obscured by haze in his constantly moving vision now gained sharpness and detail—

Mata Nui, this guy's a horse.

Even as his visitor stood at rest, the martial elements of his posture were impossible to miss. It carried through his ramrod spine, the deliberate positioning of his feet at almost exactly shoulder width apart (wide as karz), the thickness of his neck and back that far too many big men his stature lacked. The training was evident, plainly so. The craft didn't lie. Grappling him would be a bad call— too great a strength and weight differential without the Pakari. Even with it, Jolek couldn't shake the feeling he'd still find himself overmatched— his posture screamed out to the smaller Toa that such was this man's craft.

You know, aside from the clear aura of command and danger he wore around him, silent and calculating as he watched over his younger kin. He could feel the magnetic field at the edge of his perception— always alien in an indescribable way. His fellow Fa-Toa were relatively common here in Ta-Wahi... but this man was a specialist. He felt different. Maybe not necessarily stronger, but definitely more... precise.

The subtle bluing of his armor might have given the element away to others. To one of his own, though, it was a pointless redundancy— half the time it felt like they couldn't even really decide what the karz they were supposed to look like.

His muscular frame had no hope of being concealed by the long coat he wore, one that had picked up ends of grey as it trailed along the ash. Instead, he noted a particular insignia emblazoned upon it, almost hidden beneath the massive forearms of this mysterious, violet-eyed visitor. It explained the instinct to pay attention to whatever response he got, the errant guess that this was a man used to giving orders—

Gold eyes met purple, as his coarse voice finally filled the silent air between the two.

"Long way down from the desert, isn't it?"

Spirit. His throat was drier than he thought.

"Decide I'd be a good source of entertainment while you take ten?"

For what it was worth, the man from Po-Koro's Guard had stuck around doing nothing much for far longer than anyone hostile would manage if they weren't in hiding. It was a genuine question by now.

Edited by Razgriz
"In using the eyes, do so in a large and encompassing way. There is observation and there is seeing. The eye of observation is strong. The eye of seeing is weak."
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Linear time was probably the biggest lie Krayn had ever heard. The notion that a moment, once past, would never come again. That cause always precedes effect. That time moves, rather than moving through time. Time didn't slow down when something bad happened, or speed up during something happy. You do. A moment past will surely come again. The cause does not truly, in observation, always comes first. Living things change how they move through time all the time, how they observe the events in their world, and do it blindly and without awareness. Time, they think, must move because it cannot be stopped. Cannot be changed. Constant. Like gravity.

That was the first hiccup, right there. Gravity could change. A whole element could do it. Even if it didn't change naturally it could still change. Changing the thesis, saying that time doesn't naturally change, only underscores the flaw. Some Toa of Gravity, who probably compressed their brains too tightly to think properly, firmly believed time changed if gravity was high enough. Some locals whispered about a Kanohi that could control time. Neither of those ideas had the simple ring of truth, at least no explanation that he'd ever heard did, but he believed his own thesis; every living thing had the same control over time as any other, simultaneously complete and nonexistent because the only thing they could change was their pace. As far as he was concerned a sufficiently powerful being altering the rate that they all moved through time was as valid as a Toa changing gravity, even if he hadn't ever seen it. But not even that was necessary for traveling back in time. If you lived long enough that happened all on its own.

Krayn sailed into Ta-Wahi from Po-Wahi, with a stop in Ga-Koro on the way, just like before. The place hadn't changed, time hadn't changed, but here he was again in a moment lived once before. He was different.

Time— life— curved and wove and looped back on itself over and over in new ways, curving back into a moment without missing a beat at an angle just a little different than the one before. It was the same moment, the same place in time and space, but he passed through it just a little to the left of the last time. Of the way he would pass through it next time, if the moment came around. And what was true for an individual was twice as true for the world. Six Toa assailed Makuta, in accordance with Destiny, and Makuta remained free to act. Six Toa assailed Makuta, in accordance with Destiny, and Makuta— after a brief intermission— remained free to act. Turaga Onewa was kidnapped from Po-Koro. He was rescued. He was kidnapped. He was rescued. Then, of course, he died.

That was the notion of Destiny, he supposed. That sufficiently powerful being— Mata Nui— looking at that tangled weave from within and without and knowing what the individual that composed a single thread would do. Knowing its path, from beginning to end, and in so knowing cementing it into place. Perhaps moments came again because the first time around we tried to defy our Destiny. We tried to change that weave, and like any craftsmen that being at the loom of fate took the time to put right what we got wrong.

Then again, Mata Nui slept. Seeing the weave did nothing to separate him from its effects. A moment relived was not the result of Destiny, it was the result of choices. If he returned to a moment it wasn't because of Destiny. It was because, as surely as he controlled the way that he moved through time without cognizance or intent, he had brought himself back to that moment.

The parcel was heavy in his hands.

It wasn't really, it was the compression of an object into such a small space (like the mentioned brains) that made it seem heavy for the space it occupied. And then of course it could have seemed heavy because of what it was. The choices it represented. Good or bad. Right or wrong. Left or right. The thread that lead him back here, to this time, was the summation of each one. And they weren't all good. Krayn had a lot longer to think on them than he wanted, maybe even than was good for him, and there definitely were some he messed up. Finding himself back where he started wasn't an error, either. Like every other link in that chain, fiber in that thread, it was a result of everything he had done before. Everything he was.

And even though he was delaying, staring at the letter tucked into the brown string as though by will alone he could discover its contents, it all came down to a much simpler truth.

However long it took him to open, he'd made the choice at hand before he ever knew it.
 

Quote

 

Mr. Inzaka,

Captain Tera was kind enough to send this with one of the Sentinels' couriers. She knew where you'd be headed, so she took care of it. Getting it done fast leaves my hands needing a break. So this note will be short. Made to the specifications discussed. Added pockets for metal plates, if you want them. Thought about what we talked about. Wanted to remind you of something I said, think about it if you start questioning again. Let Destiny sort itself out. Don't think about where it all ends. Do what you can do now. Nothing else you can.

Next time you're in town we can discuss alterations.

 

The brown string untied dutifully when he pulled at the right strand and the thick paper unfolded easily. Thick, soft wool dyed a deep royal blue. Buttons of polished bone. It was made properly, sized properly, and it had come even faster than he expected. No insignia— though properly prepared placements, when he had one— but it was a uniform. Not a Sentinel's uniform. His uniform. His badge of office, the symbol of his decision to use the power he had to do something right. He had chosen to put it on a lifetime ago, short as the time had truly been, when he joined the Gukko Force.

This one was a lot nicer, though.

Krayn took a few moments to properly situate the equipment he would wear off of the ship underneath it, ready to be drawn through the various pass-through slits, and did not choose to button it. Ko-Wahi had been cold but he had no desire to roast himself to death.

Krayn Inzaka, specialist, ascended the stairs two at a time to reach the deck from the cabin Dehkaz had assigned him. The Commander was already off, but he wouldn't be hard to find. It was time to get back to work properly.

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On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

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  • 3 weeks later...

IC: Rynekk | The Fowadi

It hadn't taken long for Rynekk to finish unpacking his meagre belongings into his old cabin on the ship, even if he had to clear out detritus from the recent refurbishments to do so -- the cost of a months'-long sojourn, he supposed -- and he was already out watching the shoreline from the deck when Krayn emerged into the sunlight. 

"Krayn!" he said, lifting the brim of his hat so that his friend could get a proper look at his face. "Hey, hallo! I was starting to worry we'd ended up as ships in the night, you don't mind the cliche. You out and about, then? Don't mind if I tag along with you?"

OOC: @Krayzikk

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IC:

"Private Rynekk Simul," An subtle change in emphasis changed a formal greeting to a friendly one without ever changing his tone. Krayn blinked a couple of times in the sudden brightness before he made out the roughly square Sentinel, a little shorter than he, already on the deck. It wasn't easy to see his smile but it was there while he  extended a hand for the other Toa to clasp. "Feels like it's been a minute, doesn't it?"

"I was about to go and track down the Commander. You're welcome to tag along."

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On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Dehkaz [Ta-Wahi, Charred Forest]

"Something of the sort," Dehkaz responded to his opposite's inquiry. The grey-armored Toa battering away at the dented trunk of the charred tree was not what he had expected to find, though exactly what he had expected wasn't anything so specific. While unexpected, the oddity of the situation wasn't what had kept the officer watching. Not precisely.

It was the poise that the guardsman-indeed the Toa was, Dehkaz having caught a glimpse of the Ta-Koroan insignia on the man's arm-carried through the entire motion. Never once slipping into a lazy complacency that so often crept into the stances of fighters after running through combination after combination of strikes. Every moment was put towards a readiness for the next motion, the next strike. The Toa had obviously been at it for some time, that much was clear given the fluctuating staccato of speed and power, and yet still he gave whatever imagined foe he saw in that tree no quarter.

There was also the matter of the technique itself. None of it was anything he could have picked up from a few guardsman exercises and drills. Dehkaz knew the Ta-Koro's flavor of combat, and that was certainly not it. It was certainly not uncommon for individuals to be practiced in some form of self defense on the island, it was a necessity for many over the years the villages had been besieged by Makuta's lackeys. Though not to this sort of degree. Not at the level that many claimed, but scarcely had a grasp of.

"What of you, felling the forest one tree at a time some punishment assigned by your commander or are you in it for the fun of it, Guardsman…?"

A scrutinizing violet gaze met the younger man’s own, and it was clear the degree which he was evaluating and gauging the reply.

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IC: Jolek {A Chance Meeting}

And there they held impasse, for one, two, three long beats. Sizing eachother up, as it were— the energy that dominated the gap between them not quite tense, but thick with more than simply ash. He was playing a close-guarded hand, to borrow an expression from his peers, this monolith. Waiting to see what Jolek would do with the little he'd offered, how he'd reply to having his question thrown back in his face. There was a lively radiance to the violet orbs that had affixed onto him, a spark beyond what came from most people... and this was no artifact of flowery language.

If anything, the Toa's contentment to observe behind that taciturn wall of Command (because he was sure of it hearing the man speak, this guy outranked him) ran entirely counter to that charged violet gaze. He was bad with socializing, first to admit it, and had been deceived by unmeant words and deeds before... but for the life of him, he couldn't help but feel that the posture wasn't a disguise. It felt familiar, though, and not too distantly—

"It'd make a bad punishment." he countered, placing a palm against the battered trunk but not daring to break eye contact. What was clear was that he was being evaluated. Searched through, like so many filing cabinets once one hit that man's rank. If the eyes were windows to the soul, this behemoth was pointedly looking in. What would he find? "Letting the time sink away while I focus on my craft— I'm actually not sure how long I've been out here, anyway. They'd think I just ditched."

Jolek'd be inclined to believe something like "nothing much at all". That was what'd driven him out here to begin with: To get past all of that.

He'd rather search back than find out how right he may have been.

"No, there are easier ways to punish me. This is just..."

He frowned, struggling for the word. He wasn't sure what reasons the Po-Koroan had for doing it, but he knew that there was some deeper test beneath the surface of the question. For that much, Jolek saw no harm in being forthright. It had gotten him this far...

Not that it was far at all.

"It's how I relax. Done it long before signing on. Gonna do it long after I stop, too."

A passing encounter like this... What was the harm in addressing what felt inevitable, when things didn't matter?

Edited by Razgriz
what is THAT? what IS that?
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IC: Rynekk | The Fowadi

Rynekk took the offered hand in his own, shaking it once, twice, three times before he realized that this wasn't how old friends greeted each other and took his hand back timidly. Up close, Krayn's new coat became apparent; when had he gotten that? Had it been in Ihu-Koro, after he had awoken? Not for the first time, he felt a pang of remorse at his own absence from Krayn's bedside; not to mention his absence from the battle itself. Perhaps if he had been there....

"Feels like it's been a minute, yes," he said, almost a mumble, saying it to himself. But his gaze sharpened and his mouth quirked into a lazy smile again, as charming and incautious as Rynekk's had ever been. "Yeah, a minute -- a hot minute! I suppose we haven't spoken since Ko-Koro, before I had to leave and run info to the Akiri. What a waste that turned out to be, eh? You all had the city cracked open like an oyster before I had even made it to Ta-Koro."

No, he had to be realistic, of course. Whether he would have made a difference in that battle... that was an unanswerable question, and the doctors had told him as much. But, he supposed, if he had been there with Krayn...

...it might be a bit easier to look him in the eye.

"Anyway," he continued, glancing over towards shore, "I'd love to look for the Commander. Lead the way, friend."

OOC: @Krayzikk

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"I wouldn't say that." Krayn's head tilted a little, something in his friend's reply striking at an odd sort of angle. He didn't think it was anything he'd said, but... "Kale's little trick with the gate, I'm told, was pretty impressive. It never would have held without backup. Particularly the Gukko Force, even if their targeting was a little... Indiscriminate."

The Toa's mouth quirked in a wry smile but it wasn't until he felt the phantom ache in his shoulder that it clicked. Shaking a hand wasn't exactly a warm welcome. Normally he would have used the grip to draw him in, clap him on the back, but he'd avoided using his other arm without thinking. Rather than try and recover it he clapped Rynekk on the back with his right hand as he turned towards the gangplank.

"Beggars can't exactly choose their backup, though. You're looking well. Even more like a boulder than normal."

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IC: Dehkaz [Ta-Wahi, Charred Forest]

And with that, the Fa-Toa had said more than the plain words which had been spoken. There was an assuredness to his tone, and though the way in which he navigated his response was direct, it held an honesty of self which was nonetheless worthy of note.

"Fair enough," The captain responded, giving no other indication as to the nature in which he filed away the information save that it appeared he had gotten what he had sought out for with the question. Or perhaps didn't believe there was anything else to be gained on that front. Either way, Dehkaz's posture ratcheted down from the inscrutable wall of proverbial iron in a noticeable way as he brought his arms down from their previous crossed position before his chest. Both hands coming to rest atop the belt securing his now ash-dusted coat in a far more relaxed stance.

"Dehkaz Kyhrilik," Said Toa offered, his tone audibly unchanged from before, though appeared to hold far less beneath than it had mere moments ago. "You didn't learn that from Ta-Koro."

It wasn't a question, more statement of fact.

"Where'd you pick that up from?"

Edited by sunflower
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IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Charred Forest]

Looked like the man had gotten what he'd wanted out of that answer, however meandering it felt to say. That was about as much as Jolek had hoped for to begin with, so he didn't waste the energy sweating what would come of meeting expectations— as it stood, the more they spoke the more the younger Fa-Toa was realizing, and realizing quickly, how little he truly had left in the tank. As motion's self-perpetuity left the body, the joints finally found time to inflame, the muscles to let their seeds of ache blossom, and the lungs to finally wish for more and cleaner air. The hike back would be a long one.

But he wouldn't complain about the consequences of his choices, when they felt so scarce.

If the duster-clad senior officer had any of his own, he clearly had them forced down with his shoulders, the tension of first meetings seeming to fade from his gait. Jolek couldn't hear any changes in his voice, but by the time he'd offered his name to bridge that gulf of uncertainty, reading the looser stance told enough of the story. He inwardly breathed his relief, one exhalation a note fuller than those that flanked it. It had never built anywhere close to clashing, but tired as the martial artist was, he knew that he preferred languid to guarded.

"Jolek Highwind." he echoed, though the name felt hollow on his tongue by comparison.

Another man might've preened at correctly deducing this Dehkaz Khyrilik's familiarity with combatives. Jolek simply nodded, and looked off into the middle distance over the man's shoulder for a moment, peering through the murk in more ways than one. His instincts had always been honed for that sort of thing— and had saved his life. Clocking a friendly visiting officer's prowess was just practice.

"Wish I could tell," he breathed, tone now softened. "Far as I remember, the Art's always been with me. Never bothered to learn its' source... Oh,"

His gaze returned to meet the foreign dignitary's, a thought having sparked within it.

"You seem pretty direct, so I'll save you a question." a thumb sprouted out of the fist that had lingered at his hip, jabbing into his heartlight. "Washup."

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helo frens

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OOC: Ember and co. (@Krayzikk @Void Emissary) from Ga-Wahi

IC: Ember - Deck of the Fowadi, Rehu Cove

–no time had passed at all.

The previous day’s events would weigh on her mind for a while. Excitement and terror, which she had found herself suddenly craving after having been starved of them for so long, signalled a simple concept in her mind: adventure. Wherever the Fowadi led them, there was surely something incredible to be experienced along the way. A simple supply run had seen them almost lost to sea, if not for the professionalism of two Toa eager to learn. True, she’d likely think twice about getting on a skiff with both of them together again, but Brukin and Rynekk were fast learners and quick thinkers – traits which were crucial when at sea – so she was more than happy to be in their company.

It also helped that the two of them were absurdly strong, a blessing which had come in handy during the resupply run, though she guessed that that was the trade-off for being so massively built. They’d had to ferry the crates from Forsi back to the Fowadi one crate at a time, leaving Rynekk and Brukin behind on the docks in alternating turns, else they would assuredly sink. Apart from the relative lax pace of the run, however, everything had gone smoothly. At first, it sounded insane to Ember that the Forsi dockmaster had already prepared most of their cargo for departure, as if he was prescient. When he explained that the Fowadi’s radio operator had “called it in over the radio”, it still sounded insane to her, but for totally different reasons. She’d given a whole “back in my day” spiel right there and then about not having fancy radios on boats, nor radios at all. Times had changed, and she was still getting up to speed.

Everything had been in order: provisions, munitions, equipment, consumables. Even the Quartermaster’s “special items” were accounted for. Getting that cargo transferred and stowed was the easy part. Her own cargo – choosing which of her possessions to pack and which to leave. having returned to Ga-Koro after the resupply run… well, that had been harder than she’d anticipated it being. Just standing in her hut, or even walking the streets of Ga-Koro itself, a wash of melancholy hit her hard. She knew she’d be back to see her home before too long, but the feeling was inescapable. It was that mix of anticipation, trepidation, and longing common to every sailor before the start of a long tour. A journey lay ahead, and what might happen along the way was never certain. It was never a final goodbye, until it suddenly was. She made her choice of items, packed up, and left to board the Fowadi once more. 

As the sun set behind Ko-Wahi’s mountains, Ember watched the reddish glow glittering across the hulls of the Dasakan vessels, strangers to her home village as Ember herself had felt at one time in her life. This time, she didn’t say goodbye.

She’d slept soundly belowdecks that night – her second aboard the ironclad, which she had already come to respect as a hardy sailing vessel, even if it was built by the rockheads. When she woke up the next morning, Ga-Koro was no longer among her thoughts. Her second home loomed before her, its obsidian cliffs unforgettable to any who were afforded the privilege to glimpse Ta-Wahi from offshore.

The sun was still low when she made her way to the main deck, always an early riser. The plumes of steam rising high into the crisp morning air always seemed a supernatural phenomenon whenever she saw them. The churning primordial heat of the Mangai meeting the life-swaddling-and-smothering depths of the ocean old as time; their inexorable clash releasing etheric spirits into the heavens. The glow of sunrise made the spectacle even grander, and the personal mythology just that little bit more believable.

It was another couple of hours before the ship docked and the bustle of activity populated the deck. She’d saluted the Captain as he disembarked, but was not ready to leave the ship herself just yet. She leant there, against the gunwale, contemplating her time spent in Ta-Koro. She knew she’d never be able to escape the memories once she’d arrived, but being outside the city proper let her reminisce on the good ones. The bad memories could be contained inside those stonework walls, at least for the time being.

It wasn’t too long after that she heard familiar voices behind her, across the breadth of the deck. She turned away from the dark cliffs beyond the ship to Rynekk and Krayn, having just come topside. She raised a hand above her head in greeting.

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OOC: Moving from Ga-Wahi...

IC: Makua — Deck of The Fowadi

One would not expect a Toa of Ice such as Makua to feel at home in a place like Ta-Wahi. It was well-known, even back during his days as a Toa Kodin, that he had an — albeit muted — affinity to Mata Nui’s volcanic region. To him, embracing the heat was true power and strength. Ice-cold showers were the long-familiar preference of the hermits of Ko-Wahi, for that, Makua sought out the hot springs.

That was precisely what drew Makua to Ta-Koro. He was first exposed to the city as a Sanctum Guard on North March (now the Obsidian Outpost). Makua and his squad mates often worked and quarreled with the Ta-Koro platoon whenever operations were performed around the old cable car. One point of amusement was always whenever Ta-Matoran Guardsmen would go missing in the merciless Ko-Wahi drifts. On more than one occasion, he was written up for mouthing off to a Ta-Koronan Sergeant or two.

Always a Ta-Matoran going missing in the drifts. What’s the count of Ko-Koronans lost to the Trem Krom Break?

With an expectant grin on his face, Makua strolled up the steps toward the main deck. The Ko-Toa had to admit, the Fowadi staff had accommodated him beyond his expectations in exchange for his coin. He had slept comfortably, the hardy build of the flagship cradling him to familiar shores. He had then ascended from his private bunk below deck to the mess hall for breakfast. Around him, crews on break time were engaged in a cacophony of stories, debates, and games. Makua had just enough stories of his past as a Guardsman to exchange for some interesting tales and recollections from the many observers on this ship.

It did not take long for vacationing sellsword to learn who the main characters were, even if they apparently would change from time to time.

Po-Koro’s propaganda machine be ******, Makua thought, these Sentinels aren’t too different from the Sanctum Guard or the Ta-Koro Guard.

The sun had barely cleared the oceanic horizon when Makua reached the main deck. The winds of Rehu Cove were as familiar as the ashen aroma that said winds carried. The topside of the ship had become fairly active at this point. Crewmen and soldiers were bustling about, orders were being shouted, and confirmations were being yelled back. All the while, the shiny-armored Toa stood still, taking in the ashes, the burnt forests ahead, and the beach’s cliffside greeting him from the Fowadi’s starboard. He wondered if Muuk was nearby — he had presumed the quartermaster had not disembarked. He began to walk down along the deck when he felt a firm smack to the shoulder.

“’Ey there!”

It was one of the Sentinels Makua ate breakfast with. He was a stout Po-Toa with an Arthron of similar color to Hewkii’s, and he was gesturing forward.

“One’a those higher-ups I told ya’bout,” said the gruff Toa. Makua’s gaze followed the man’s gesture, and the officer was not hard to miss. He wore a Great Sanok and had a uniform that looked familiar, but had no insignia to give it away. Makua had seen many such uniformed officers in his time. Those jobs usually brought him the best coin, but were always the most tedious.

Next to him was what Makua guessed was a Toa given their mask. He was shorter than the uniformed officer, but was even more sturdily built than Tailua. And that was saying something.

Regardless, the sellsword operated as he had when he first came aboard the flagship: making his way to the officer and his colleagues while nodding assuredly to the bustling crewmen on the deck as if he was the captain. While the crew was busy, the rising sun was having a field day with Makua’s golden pauldrons, and while the ashes would amend this soon enough, everyone on deck would likely know of their luster — whether they wanted to or not.

OOC: @Krayzikk @Perp@Void Emissary ... and Makua!

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"hey girl: here’s an idea, but… it’s up to you:

You’re the boss of this operation."

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IC: Myhruk [Beach Outpost, Fowadi]

It was neither the lack of sway nor the bustle of the dock that awoke the Lesterin at the top of the Fowadi. It was the smell. Even faint as it was out by the beach, you couldn't get that spicy mix of soot and sulphur anywhere else. For the briefest of moments, he thought the travels that surprisingly lead to his current precarious position were from a dream.

Unfortunately, the swirling gulls above killed that notion.

The Su-Lesterin slowly creaked out of the fetal position, peeling his armor away from the mast pole that ran through the observation platform. After a light stretch and several confused expressions thankfully none were nearby to see, the stranger began to climb down from the crow's nest. He hadn't expected to return to Ta-Wahi, but was nevertheless calmed by his home's presence, not to mention being closer to land than any time in the past day.

But as was mentioned, this wasn't the home that the Lesterin was looking for. He needed to have a word with the cruise director.

~~~

The dazed lesterin stumbled towards the aftcastle, having trouble with his footwork even under the light sway of the ship at anchor. He appeared unbothered by his blisteringly hot armor, which practically radiated all the heat that had built up from an entire morning's worth of sunburn.

Paying no heed to any others during his route from the main deck, the squinting vigilante successfully discovered the location of the captains quarters (how predictable!) and opened the door. Well, he would have opened the door if the handle had budged at all. Now he was irritated. He knocked on it, waited a few seconds, then knocked louder.

Edited by BULiK
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Visit www.BZPRPG.com to view my project of archiving BZPower's RPGs, and also access the BZPower Roleplaying Wiki

BZPRPG Profiles - Ghosts Of Bara Magna Profiles

Exo-Force RPG Profiles - Six Kingdoms: Apocalypse (Knichou, Berys, Arnex, The Taku, Exuze)

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IC: Dehkaz [Ta-Wahi, Charred Forest]

Once again the response spoke volumes outside of what the Toa had offered, the shift in tact paying off with the far more open dialogue the pugilistic guardsman had taken on. Another layer pressed upon the next as he built a more complete sense of the younger man. His honesty in the face of the more casual questioning was telling; more and more Dehkaz was sure of the initial impression he had developed. Both of this man's skill as well as demeanor. If direct honesty was the direction in which the conversation was headed, then confirming his hunch was perhaps a relatively easy task.

"The Guard a convenient way to keep skills sharp then, Highwind?"

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IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Charred Forest]

"It's..."

Stagnant

Regimented

Monochrome

Aimless

Stifling.

"...It has its moments." He finished, lamely appending faint praise to the sentence. "Sometimes I get to use them. Make the most of what I can."

He felt stuck just by its' mere mention. Even this trail of thought was an endless, endless circle. Was this the third time in one day? At some juncture, keeping on this well-worn track was going to drive him postal—

And yet.

Here they were, all the same. Back to this again. He may have thought this a thousand times now. If thinking the same way about the same thing and saying the same words was really set to drive his psyche over the edge, in spite of how rugged he'd always seen himself... What was there to say about the heart of Khyrilik's question? What of taking the same actions in the same scenery, day in, day out?

His jaw pulled the edges of his mask up into a ghost of a smile, remembering the churlish air he affected often in freedom, before duty. He didn't feel it behind his eyes.

What did he feel?

"Besides, I'm buddies with Angelus, so after the bombing, felt like I owed him the help..."

And joined the largest uptick in recruitment their shared generation had seen. A figure in the sea of recruits... and processed thoroughly in their midst. One number among many, tasked with keeping the peace of a trained, focused populace. Walking the grid and being there, because he made for no investigator nor bureaucrat nor negotiator. He knew there was a minor dossier on every standing Guard somewhere in the depths of Jaller or Angel's offices, he'd been told as much and told again when he inevitably glossed over the detail until he got his first writeup. He knew they'd evaluated him on a level similar, if less conversational, than the Po-Koroan here was.

He knew that it was no accident he'd been on this detail. Whomever had looked him over and figured out the things that made him tick inside, for what little a person there was to work with, had deduced that he was best served on patrol.

... But, really...

"Recruitment's been high. Not a lot of moments wanna come and try it. Not supposed to be a bad problem for a Guard to have."

Edited by Razgriz
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helo frens

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IC: Skyra Daring -  Fowadi, Ta-Wahi Coast, Rehu Cove  -

“Haah!” I jabbed my spear into the target dummy for, well I don’t know how many times that morning. Repetition makes perfect as they say, and while I wouldn’t dare say I was perfect by any measure, it was something I’d always push towards. 

Today was spear day, I had been awake since before the sun  rose and had been above deck, stabbing at the target dummy. I only stopped briefly for water when necessary. You might ask why a swordswoman was using a spear? Simple, I wanted to master every weapon that existed, the spear was only the start. 

Collecting weapons was starting to become a bit of an obsession of mine, but they were all useless if I couldn’t at least use them somewhat competently. And so this was why I now practiced with the spear everyday.

I was actually glad for the dry heat of Ta-Wahi, while it was certainly hotter than Ga-Wahi or even Le-Wahi, it was not nearly as humid, and with a subtle use of my elemental for a nice breeze I didn’t sweat as much as usual, which meant I could keep practicing my technique for longer.

While the target dummy could not fight back, it helped that its appearance was close to a certain stupid idiot younger brother, which motivated me to stab it harder.

I overheard Krayn and Rynekk speaking, it seemed Krayn was on the deck.. How long had I been practicing? Considering my arms were starting to feel slightly numb perhaps it was best I wrapped things up.

I channeled my element through the protosteel spear as I stabbed it into the dummy, a powerful burst of turbulence lifted the dummy straight up into the air above me, I quickly adjusted my spear to hold it like a javelin before chucking it right into the dummy’s chest. Mmm yeah my aim was getting better, f### you Xxeth. 

I turned away, not bothering to even look at the dummy crashing back onto the deck, falling apart most likely, not that I cared to check. 

I’d overheard Krayn and Rynekk say something about looking for the commander, and I was getting stir crazy on the ship. So with a grin I intruded upon their conversation.

“You boys going on shore? I’m coming too, I’m bored.”

@Void Emissary @Krayzikk

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Skyra | Hakari | Oceanna | Taleen | Arisaka | Zanakra | Kaminari | Drakkar

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