Po-Wahi is the Stone region on Mata Nui, located in a large desert with many canyons. The desert is a large, rocky expanse, located near the north of Mata Nui. It consists mainly of the Motara Desert, canyons, plateaus, and rocks. The area has a coastline as well, where Leva Bay is situated. Paths leading to Onu-Wahi, Po-Koro, and the Quarry could also be found here. Local landmarks include:
-Motara Desert: A desert covering the vast eastern portion of Po-Wahi.
-Tiro Canyon: A large canyon in Po-Wahi.
-Leva Bay: A bay located off the northern coast of Po-Wahi. Sometimes traders set up shop here, where they will hawk their curiosities to any passers by.
-The Po-Wahi Quarry: A large, canyon-enclosed area of Po-Wahi, it is here that the Po-Matoran mine stone for their famous carvings. In it can be found six large statues of the First Toa’s Kanohi, and these statues serve as doorways to the various sections of the quarry, unlocked by means of small keys emblazoned with the symbols of the Elements.
-The Path of Prophecies: A road flanked by carvings, leading to the village of Po-Koro, created by the Po-Matoran Carver Hafu soon after the Matoran established the village of Po-Koro. At the road's end is the entrance to Po-Koro, which is carved into the mouth of a large Matoran head.
-The Dark Walk: One of six large tunnels dug by Makuta’s Rahkshi during the final days of his rule. Large enough to encompass a walking legion, it runs directly from the doorstep of the Koro down into Mangaia. Exudes a definite aura of odiousness, and is generally avoided.
Led by Akiri Hewkii, Po-Koro lays nestled in a canyon valley in the northern part of the desert. It consists of a village set within the confines of thick, masterly crafted walls of stone. A grand gateway and the short road leading to it define Po-Koro’s single entrance. Inside the village, simple stone domes serve as huts, shops and inns, and a central marketplace hosts a continual bazaar, though this is mostly empty of new merchandise thanks to the isolation of the village. Still, Po-Koro maintains its reputation as the sports capital of the island, and has the best Kohlii stadium and teams.
Po-Koro has recently attained the epithet of "the Lost Koro" due to Hewkii’s efforts at making the Koro harder to locate in the vast desert. Most roads that once existed in the wastes are now scrubbed away, leaving would-be travelers with nothing but vast dunes and sky overhead – when the sky isn't obscured by a sandstorm – to navigate by. Already experts at traversing the vast wasteland, Po-Matoran are uninhibited by the lack of directional markers, and rarely get lost. Specially appointed patrols cross the desert, some tours to ensure the security of the Koro and others as essential traders. These patrols are generally the only contact Po-Koro has with the outside world.
For keeping in contact within their own kind even when they are across the desert, the Po-Matoran have also purchased a new technology from Onu-Koro; a large, primitive radio communicator is situated atop the walls of Po-Koro. From this transmission point, special messages in Po-Koro can be sent through the air to other such radio outposts elsewhere in the desert. The communication signals are always shaky, leading to easy misinterpretations, the range isn’t good, and the apparatuses are extremely vulnerable; but, even so, the solar-powered transmitters give the Po-Matoran the ability to respond quickly to disasters.
I don't like this mask.
It's uncomfortable and I can still smell traces of blood lining it.
I know supplies have been pretty scarce since the attacks, but did they have to go to the morgue and pull a mask off a dead man?
It's only been a few months since the island has been saved, and everything's gone awry.
I hate my life.
IC: Okega (Po-Koro Bazaar)
It had been three months since he landed on the shores of Mata Nui. The native population of Po-Matoran had welcomed him with open arms, telling fantastic stories of a Master of Shadows being defeated and his sons destroyed in a massive war. It had seemed the celebration would continue forever.
Then, it just stopped.
Divisions were created between the Koros, and Ogeka was locked into the new fortress of Po-Koro under the order of Akiri Hewkii. Tensions are high, and no one knows if war will break out.
Just perfect for an inventor like him.
The shop had gone up quickly, even if the Po-Matoran were celebrating. With a few minor modifications to the plain stone dome, Ogeka Tech was now open for business. With the Koros sealed off, even the great inventions that rapidly clogged the markets from Onu-Koro could barely compete with his masterpieces.
Kale Ironshaper- Po-koro
IC: Just three months
That was all it took after the fall of Makuta for the villages to turn into suspicious collections of beings, all hoping to gain an edge over the others in some way.
It seemed that the islanders were not as virtuous as one might have hoped.
Kale walked down the dusty street with a pile of plank carried over one shoulder. Other then his moral compass his parents had taught him how to be a fairly good craftsman, something that came in handy when he needed new materials for his pet project. It hardly helped that it was mostly made out of wood, something that was in rather short supply in the desert. The ability to craft masks, axles and other objects,however, made sure that he could get what he needed when the merchants came to town.
Settling the bundle of wood over his shoulder more securely, the Toa of Iron turned right and made his way to an out of the way shack that he had moved his project to. He could hardly have kept in in the cargo hold of the Fowadi. That space was needed for things that everybody knew worked.
I don't like the quietness of the village. Even when the headquarters had been destroyed, things were still pretty loud, but now ...
We barely have any guards left.
I can remember all the bodies we had to pick out of the rubble. It was pretty disheartening, seeing my friends dead.
I hate Rahkshi.
Tera walked up to her old partner, a smile on the new Commander's face.
"We've gotta recruit."
OOC: Approved by Lloyd in light of her leading of the Rahkshi defense.
I blink. Tera has good leadership skills, and a bit of charisma, but ... Commander?
Well, that's a surprise.
"Later. Doughnuts first."
I loved Po-Wahi. I loved the way the ground didn't always try to swallow your feet when you took a step. I loved how your vision and path was never obscured by trees ten times the size of a toa. I loved how you weren't attacked by disease carrying insects every second of the day.
It had been about two months since I had gotten back to the desert, and I had really learnt to appreciate what I had. I had spent some money on supplies, hired someone to go to Le-Koro to collect that Ussal crab I had left behind and then walked out into the Motara, collecting whatever I found. Rahkshi corpses were littered around the village and I managed to get quite a few.
In short, life was good and things were back to normal. I walked through the bazaar, rather pleased with myself.
OOC: Open for interaction
IC: Tera's smile widened. "How did I know..."
I shrug. "Because we have been friends for a long time."
IC: "Okay, but recruiting can't wait too long. You know as well as I do that we need a lot more people." Tera sighed and looked out into the main heart of Po-Koro.
I nod. The lack of people is a massive problem, and recruiting will be difficult.
"We can give them incentives," I say. "I believe I have the perfect idea."
My gaze wanders to the nearby doughnut stand.
"And all it will need is a little bit of tax-payer money."
Our people are like sand
This I have been told,
For sand is rough yet smooth, hard yet soft,
Earth-brown and yet sun-gold.
And life, it is a desert,
For if you could hold the land,
Remove plants and trees, towns and walls,
All that's left is sand...
Sernon chewed on the end of his pen, rubbing the flax parchment gently between his fingers, feeling its finely woven texture. He was having trouble thinking of a third verse; the words simply wouldn't come.
Perhaps this is meant, he thought. Maybe the poem needs no more words.
Dragging his mind out of its reverie, he inspected his surroundings, searching for a hint of inspiration. He sat cross-legged on the shore by Leva Bay. The gentle in-and-out breath of the sea provided a pleasant background sound, along with the calls of the hawkers at their stalls a little further inland. Sernon had taken to spending his days here, when the weather enabled - and in the blistering heat of the Motara Desert, it nearly always did. The combination of the sea breeze on his face and the sun on his back was one that Sernon found delightful.
The Toa of Stone stretched, and then got slowly to his feet, depositing his pen and the roll of parchment into a pouch on his hip. Strolling leisurely towards the stalls of the salesmen, his mind wandered back to his time on the walls. Watching. Waiting. Wondering when the Rahkshi would come. Having to hold his ground when they finally did. Those days were gone though; the island had moved into a state of ever-watchful, suspicious "peace". The new Akiri wasn't the Matoran Sernon remembered, that was for sure. Po-Koro had once welcomed all save the Rahkshi.
Simpler times, thought Sernon. We merely had to watch the walls, not our backs.
He was interrupted from his thoughts by someone calling his name. Returning to full consciousness once again, he realised his walk had taken him through the stalls. A familiar face grinned behind one of them. Smiling, Sernon approached the stall and tossed a couple of widgets to the Matoran behind it.
"The usual, please, Mahon."
"Oh, no different than usual. I got something written, at least."
"That's good, I suppose. You going to show it to the Akiri?"
"Hewkii's got no interest in my work."
"He might come to his senses eventually. After all, if you're to be the Koro's official Chronicler, it'll be him that appoints you, surely?"
Sernon accepted the cup of fruit juice with a grateful smile, leaning on the counter. "Chroniclers are concerned with writing the histories and events of each Koro. I've no desire to keep account of our petty squabbles."
Mahon shrugged. "Better than all-out war."
"You think it'll come to that?"
"We get all sorts in here. Traders, warriors, people trying to find the Koro. I can tell which way the wind is blowing, that's all I'm saying."
"And right now?"
Mahon grimaced. "Due Mangaia."
"I don't see why everyone's getting so worked up about a door."
"Well, you wouldn't." chuckled Mahon with a wry grin.
Sernon fixed him with a stare. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, you know. We couldn't make you give a karz about current affairs if we made you Akiri."
Sernon laughed, straightening up. "Oh, you're right, as always. About everything. Anyway, I'd better head back."
"Better not forget that, kiddo. Shall I signal back?"
Sernon glanced at the ugly communications apparatus in the centre of the traders' square. "No thanks, I know the way."
"Safe journey, then."
Clapping the Matoran on the shoulder, Sernon turned and resumed his easy pace. He chose his direction without really needing to think, and began heading for home.
IC(Quert): His arm was broken, but it didn't bother him much. Stung if someone touched it, sure, but the bone had been set and was nearly healed. He adjusted his arm in the sling, as he walked through the hospital. It was probably the first day since Makuta's defeat that most of the rooms were empty. Too many people got injured or killed. Including him. He got off light, compared to most of the injuries. Just some dumb luck...OOC: Interaction welcomed.
Kale Ironshaper- Po-koro
IC: Kale stood back and admired his work. It was finally done, almost four months of work and he finally had a finished prototype.
Before him sat a rather odd contraption. For the most part it looked like normal skiff, if a bit longer and flatter on the bottom then your normal version. The main difference was the set of four wooden runners on the bottom of the craft, one long pair and one short. The shorter set could turn and was hooked up to a steering wheel at the rear of the craft. This, along with the sail would allow the crew to steer the craft on land. When entering the water, a simple rudder could be lowered from the back. It was a simple enough setup, but he had hardly been going for complicated when he started.
Throwing open the door of the shed, he slowly pushed it into the open street and started making his way to the gates. For the most pat he kept to the back street, less people to get in the way, but he still got some odd looks from those he passed. Finally reaching the gate, he nodded in greeting to the guards manning it. He was fairy well known to all the personnel in the Sentinels and they let him out after only asking a few questions.
Once outside he set up the mast and sail properly and gave the skiff a running push before jumping in. The wind filled the sail, sending the small craft at a fair clip over the sands. Kale let out a whoop of excitement as he maneuvered the sail to catch even more wind. Considering that he was heading towards the shoreline, he had to tack against the wind, but he was still making faster progress then if any normal person had been going on foot.
Catching sight of the familiar figure of one of the koro's more well known poets, the TOa of Iron reefed in the sails and cast the anchor over the side, the extra wide spikes of the special ancor digging into the sand and bringing the skiff to a stop. Placing one foot one the bulwark, he shouted at the figure.
"Hey, Sernon! Watcha doing all the way out here in the middle of the desert?"
Sernon turned towards the sound of the voice. A rather familiar Toa stood on what looked to be a makeshift, but rather fast, skiff.
"Kale!" he called back, approaching the craft with a smile. "The usual. Writing, trying not to become embroiled in local politics. I was just on my way back to the Koro, I've a piece of work I'd like to present."
Stepping on board the skiff, he looked up and down its length. The thing may have looked crude from afar, but it felt sturdy enough on deck, and the steering mechanism seemed to be well-made, if unusual. He supposed it was Kale's own invention; the Toa had a reputation for interesting contraptions. Technology was moving apace these days thanks to inventors such as Kale and Nuparu, though Sernon wasn't entirely sure as yet if he welcomed or resented the changes they had caused.
"I could ask you the same question! Where are you headed to on this fine vessel?"
Kale Ironshaper- Po-wahi
IC: "I just finished this and decided to take it out for a spin. I was heading to the sea until I met you, figured I could check out its water-born abilities. I could do that later though. Would you like a ride?"
Sernon shrugged, laughing.
"I guess I could tag along. Just tell me which ropes to pull, cap'n."
IC: Po-Koro. She'd suffered so much in the recent troubles, and even after three months of cold war, she was still struggling to recover. Her walls were whole once more, and the physical signs of the war gone. The only thing left was one invisible but to the native eye--the many visits the Reaper had paid to this village. The toll in lives was high enough that a dedicated public graveyard had been created, with each grave in the stone marked by a sculpture of the one who had been laid to rest there, with their name on its pedestal. Small trinkets and stone-carvings laid on many of the graves, left by the bereaved beloved. Though the graveyard was secluded from the open desert and rested in a canyon, the groundskeeper could often be found with a trusty broom warding off the encroaching sand from his charges.
It was here that Hewkii was on this particular day, visiting those who had died in the war against Makuta. He murmured their names without looking at their pedestals as he looked over each grave, his memories of each Matoran and Toa coming to life as he looked over their graven visages. Several times, he knelt to examine the trinkets left behind, and it was not uncommon for him to find things inexpertly made, with the uncertain hand of a child's chisel. He knew the ones who'd made these trinkets, given condolences to grieving widows and orphaned children, but it still brought tears to his eyes when he found these children's mementos at the feet of their parents' graves. He set an amateur model of a Kohlii ball down and turned to the exit of the canyon, back toward the wind and flying grit of the desert--An apt metaphor for my situation, he thought to himself.
As he entered Po-Koro proper, he was besieged by Matoran with requests for various approvals, practically mobbed by them.
"Akiri, please let us go with the next merchant caravan!""Akiri, we need to know if you'll be attending the next Kohlii match!"
"Akiri, please sign this permit for my market stall!""Akiri, I want to join the Sentinels!"
A pair of Home Guard Sentinels stationed at the gate interposed themselves between the crowd and Hewkii, giving him space to speak.
"Please, if you have something you need approved, file the request with my office and I will get to it in due time. I will be attending the next Kohlii match, just as I attend them all--while I might not be a professional anymore, I still love Kohlii and the village that invented it, and I always make time in my schedule to attend. If you wish to join the Sentinels, you can apply at their office, and I thank you for your generosity." The Sentinels began to separate the crowd, allowing Hewkii to walk through. As he got through the other side of the crowd, he stopped and turned. "Oh, and one more thing. It's 'Hewkii,' not 'Akiri,' please." With that, he turned back to his course and left them.
Hewkii's office was not the residence of the former Turaga--rather, he'd had that converted into a memorial for Onewa. His offices were near the center of the Koro, a larger building intended to process the frankly absurd amount of work that needed to be approved by the Akiri and his aides--Hewkii had ensured that he had a sufficient amount of aides to process most of the paperwork without bothering him. Of course, he still had to work on some of it. He sat down at his desk and began looking over the first item on the list. A proposal to encourage inter-village cooperation, it said. Suggested building an inter-village radio system. Hewkii grimaced--radio was their decisive advantage, and to share it would be to lose that advantage. "Blackbox the radio itself" he wrote, "and look into making it a commercial venture." With that, he put it aside and moved down the pile.
The purple and black Skakdi looked at the rock, and moved it to the side. Underneath was a hole, and in this hole rested a gun that belonged to him. Via pressurized air, he could fire small pebbles at high speeds. Next to it was a mask.
It looked like a Hau, but much more scarier. It was meant to frighten people and show them that Toa were the evil beings they were. He grabbed both, and put them into his bag. He got up, and his hut in Po-Koro.
He was going to Ga Koro. The Great Takea there was acting as the base for the Skakdi Liberation League.
Open for interaction from Skakdi, preferably those in the League.
IC(Quert): "Missus....Well, Missus, how are you doing today?" Quert turned a page in the folder using his teeth. "Good, that's good. Your pulse is the same, thankfully. Most of your readings are good, but none improving, I'm afraid." He turned another page in the folder. "You've been like this for 2 months, 3 days. You were found nearly dead outside Po-Koro. I, with my nurses, brought you back. And I don't know your name." Quert lifted his eyes from the folder to the bed. A mess of tubes and wires almost covered a female Vortixx from sight. Quert sighed and looked at his folder again. "I read from this folder everyday, hoping, that just hearing a voice will wake you up. I have reasons of my own, but, no offense, the other doctors are starting to see you as a waste of a bed. Give me an idea you're not. Please." Quert closed the folder, looked at her one last time, and left the room.
IC: OgekaBusiness was slow today, not that he had anything to sell. With the Koros splitting, most of the materials usually provided by other Koros were gone, leaving him with stones and sand. Tough luck.Anyways, today would be a good time for a break. Ever since he had arrived, the rumors of a vault possibly containing dangerous weapons or devices belonging to the Makuta intrigued him. Why not see what all the talk is about?As he walked out of the store, he placed the freshly carved stone "Closed" sign in the doorway and walked towards The Dark Walk. He wasn't afraid of ghost stories, but kept his dagger on hand, just in case he ran across any stray Rahkshi.OOC: Open for interaction until I get to Kini-Nui.
IC: Sentinels stood across the mouth of the Dark Walk, barring the way.
"Halt.." One said. "Do you have authorization to pass through here?"
Kale Ironshaper- Po-wahi
IC: "Captain, hah." That was good for a few chuckles. "Nevermind the ropes, I can take care of those. You take the wheel. It simple enough, turn in the way you want to go, just don't do it too hard our we might capsize."
With that, he hoisted the anchor back on board and unfurled the sails, letting them catch the wind and get the skiff moving again.
IC: OgekaThe Sentinels had been a genuine surprise to Ogeka. I guess he should have seen it coming. Ah well, there's still plenty of other occasions to visit. He'll just have to find a...sneakier way."Oh...ah...I guess not." He stammered, backing away slowly. "I was just...uh...admiring the view, but you know, I said I'd meet with a customer around this time, and I just remembered. Carry on, guys."Ogeka casually walked away, cursing himself for looking so stupid.
IC: The Sentinel nodded. "Friendly word of advice, though--you can apply to join a merchant caravan if you want to leave. No guarantees, but it's your best bet."
Sernon nodded, and climbed up onto the small platform near the back of the craft which housed the steering apparatus. As Kale began tightening the sail and they slowly began to pick up speed across the shifting expanse of the Motara Desert, he tentatively put his hands on the wheel. He was surprised to find that the skiff responded easily to even the most gentle of movements; he barely had to move his hands to cut a sweeping arc across the sandy surface.
The poet began to enjoy himself. The weather was perfect for this kind of thing; the sun riding high at its apex, the wind strong but not kicking up clouds of sand, the sky as clear and blue as the waters in the bay.
Sernon practised his technique, riding the craft along the soft curves of sand dunes and dips, speeding under stone arches and sometimes even lifting off the ground; the craft was incredibly light, and Kale seemed to know what he was doing - the sail never slackened. They were now going at an incredible speed, but the desert was so vast and sparse, the risk of hitting anything was very small indeed.
Though he was having tremendous fun, Sernon suddenly realised he had no destination whatsoever in mind.
"Kale!" he called. "Where exactly are we going?"
Kale Ironshaper- Po-wahi
IC: Kale turned his head to look at the poet from his spot by the sail, shouting over the wind.
"Wherever we feel like going! You said you were heading to Po-koro to present something so we may as well start heading over there!"
They had come quite a ways in the time they had spent flying about the desert. Up ahead could be seen the edges of one of the canyons that dotted the sandy wastes. Small dunes were built up along its edges, gusts of wind sending clouds of sand down into the rocky depths. With a fierce grin Kale yelled for Sernon to keep going strait and tied one of the ropes around a nearby peg, preventing the sail from changing.
Running up to the front of the skiff, he flipped the lid off the top of his metal tube and sent out the metallic sand inside. Flying ahead, it dug into one of the dunes at the edge of the canyon and lifted, creating a rather large jump out of the mixture of the two materials.
OOC: Sorry sorry, thought I'd replied already!
Sernon froze momentarily as the canyon rushed towards them. He looked around for some escape, but to no avail; they were simply moving too quickly to avoid going anywhere but into the canyon. The only way across was up Kale's ramp.
"Mata-Nui preserve me!" he muttered through gritted teeth, wrestling with the wheel until the craft was as straight towards the ramp as he could possibly make it. Right as they reached the foot of the ramp, he gripped the wheel as tightly as he could and slammed his eyes shut.
There was a sudden feeling of weightlessness; time seemed to grind to a standstill. Opening one eye, Sernon peeked over the edge of the skiff. The maw of the canyon loomed below him like the mouth of some all-consuming beast, but rather than the vertigo he had expected, the poet experienced a feeling of intense exhilaration. Opening both eyes, he looked at Kale. The Toa of Iron was looking back at him, a massive grid spread across his face.
Sernon whooped; this was the most excitement he'd had in months. There came a great jolt as the skiff hit the ground on the far side of the canyon, and he lost his grip on the wheel, falling and rolling across the deck. As Kale let the sail slacken, the craft gradually came to a halt. Quivering with adrenaline, Sernon looked up at his co-pilot through tears of laughter.
Kale Ironshaper- Po-wahi
IC: As Kale summoned his sand to fly over the canyon and back into his tube, he looked at Sernon with a a grin so big it could have belonged to a skakdi.
"I know, sane people don't try jumping giant holes in the ground. Still, gets the blood pumping doesn't it? Sometimes, when all the recent event get me down, I just come out into the desert and start running like crazy. Its amazing what you can do on some of these rock formations. Anyway," His grin became less less adrenalin willed and more of a normal happy. "Lets get back to the koro. You have your poem to present, and I need to show this off to some of the other Sentinel members."
With that he moved back to the sails and started the skiff moving again, this time at a somewhat more sedate pace.
The Skakdi looked around Po-Koro, and sighed. Not many here were accepting of his ideals and values. They were reasonable. The Toa were oppressive, silencing the Skakdi. He would be leaving this place for Ga-Koro.
Vhohan to Ga-Koro.
The skin-searing sunshine of the region of sands smacked me like a sledgehammer.
Try saying that three times fast.
Fortunately, I didn't have to worry to much about that -- Kakama-sprinting full-tilt across the desert, it could have been midnight and I wouldn't have noticed the difference. I guess if I was going fast enough for time and space to blend into one big conglomeration, the heat of the morning suns wouldn't have been too bad for me. Besides, after having spent four hours shuffling through the Drifts, the blazing, luminous rays of the sky were a welcome relief.
Another thing I was fortunate for, was the fact that I had bothered to memorize the path to the virtually-invisible village of stone. It had taken the better part of the last month (and nearly sent me falling to my death in the quarries), but at least now I could assure myself that I'd make it to Po-Koro before dying of dehydration. I may not have liked the rationale behind the creation of the system, but I'll admit; the removal of waypoints was a brilliant tactic to decrease the chances of invasion. No assaulting army would be stupid enough to try and find us in the middle of the Motara now -- not without some sort of scouts.
Still, I did not like the reasoning behind this. Makuta's gone -- we shouldn't have had to worry about attackers anymore. We should be strengthening our ties of Unity, not further cutting them; drawing our resolve for Duty from the other villages, not in spite of them; working with the others to further this island's destiny, not holing ourselves up to focus on our own.
There's nothing more frustrating than being saner than your leaders.
Another, penultimate wave of desert deja-vu hit me, and I slowly began cutting off power to my mask, bringing myself into a gradual jog along the Path of Prophecies. I gave a friendly nod to the patrollers at the village gate -- two burly-looking Po-Matoran who were looking me up and down with questioning glares -- already in the process of yanking my identification papers out of my coat pocket.
"Yup, yup, I know -- 'identification please'," I said quickly, with a auditory twinkle in my voice and a wink readying itself on my right eye. "Here ya go, mates! I trust that it's all in order?"
The pair scanned the worn and sullied papers slowly and methodically, as if they were hoping to find some error which would justify them sending me on a one-way trip to the slammer. Oh, if only they knew... I thought, feeling equally proud and ashamed of that little factoid. Finally, seemingly satisfied that I was, in fact, Private Rynekk Simul of the Po-Koro Guard, they gave me a curt nod and bade me entrance into the village.
"Much obliged, fellows!" I shouted to them as I walk past, "Stay sharp out there!"
I'm honestly not sure if any of us knew if I was being mocking or not with that statement.
~ ~ ~
It took me only a few minutes to reach the Guard HQ, that flat, squarish, stone building which looked so utilitarian that it made Krayn appear the epitome of gaudy, happy-go-luckiness in comparison. Pushing the front door open, a quick look-around told me that I was not the only Guard in here -- there was a lavender-grey Toa, who I honestly could only remember as "Doughnut Guy"; and the new Commander, a pretty Toa of Stone who I had only seen a handful of times.
"G'morning sir, ma'am," I said, saluting both of them (since I automatically assume that everyone outranks me around here), "Any interesting developments while I was gone?"
I blink. I'm definitely sure I do not deserve to be saluted.
What is my rank anyway?
IC: Tera crossed her arms."No, apart from the continuing drive to recruit."Tera glanced over at Prei. "I assume you know Corporal Prei?"
Corporal? Definitely sure that wasn't my rank either.
I think my records had been stored in the headquarters ...
No wait, they were destroyed.
IC:Trench coats were completely, and utterly, a necessity in Po-Koro.
At least, in the opinion of this Gukko Force officer. If he had to deal with sand being thrown all over his armor and into his joints every time a gust of wind came, he'd have been miserable. His hat was similarly effective at shading his face, and protecting his head from the same tiny grains. If his outfit had been odd in Le-Koro, it was perfectly suited for his current location.
While most foreign agents had been expelled from the village, this Lieutenant was an... Odd case. Having spent the majority of the past eight months of his life in the village, serving on the Aggressors, and being a member of the crew of the Fowadi, he had become something of a familiar sight in the village. While not necessarily trusted by the populace, he had wormed his way into at least a measure of acceptance. Not to mention his current job as the Gukko Force's liason to the Sentinels.
Somewhere along the lines, his CO had worked out that he spent most of his stockpiled vacation time in Po-Koro, and decided to give him an official capacity there. It worked out well for them both. He got a capable ambassador, Krayn got to spend time with the closest thing to family he had.
Which is why he was currently wandering the streets, eternally grateful for his coat.
Corporal Prei. Not "Doughnut Guy".
Glad I found that out before something potentially catastrophic occurred.
I smiled at the Commander (not Tillian, but the new Commander), "Ah, that. I've read the bulletins about it. Any luck on that front, ma'am?"
With a chipper nod towards Doughnut Gu-- er, Prei, I added, "And of course I'm aware of Corporal Prei. I certainly would never flirt with the notion that he was called any name which referenced the particular pastry which he is so fond of.
Sort, stack, fold, put away. Sort, stack, fold, put away.
That was the less then merry tune playing through Quert's head as he handled his patients' paperwork. With the last few ones, he slightly rushed putting them away, longing to get out of the Hospital, report to the Guard HQ, and get home(You work a 18 hour shift, and see how energy filled you are!).
He pulled off his white lab coat, and replaced it with his Medical Guard jacket. He picked up two folders and headed for the exit to his office, then in turn, the Hospital.
He jogged down the dusty streets, several side streets, and one back alleyway until he reached the Guard HQ. He pushed open the door and gave a quick, messy salute to Tera as he headed over to his locker, threw his folders in, closed it, and went back to the lobby.
Ignoring the fact that Rynekk had gotten my name wrong, or at least, had completely forgotten it, I gestured out the window to where a nearby doughnut stand was.
"Incentive can be doughnut discounts."
IC: He never could really escape paperwork, though he preferred to make things happen in person. Some people just needed a written record, and other things he couldn't attend to personally. First, there was the matter of the Quarry. There was a request to include metals in the list of things the Po-Wahi Quarry extracted from the earth, and requisitions for the equipment and people. After looking it over, he agreed and signed the paperwork, handing it off to a messenger to deliver. The next request made him raise his eyebrows--someone wished to use the radio system's generators as the blueprint for steam engines. Hewkii found this heartily promising and signed off on that one as well.
Next was the regular business of assigning trusted merchants for the regular caravan. This consumed several hours as applicants were accepted or rejected and the paperwork completed. A few official emissaries were prepared. Each Koro would be getting one, but Ta-Koro would be getting three requests from its emissary, based on what was known about the village and a few anomalous reports from the battle against the Rahkshi hordes.
He stood and stretched his legs, taking a walk around the village and rubbing shoulders with his people. Finally, he came to the Sentinel HQ--significantly reinforced since it'd been attacked all that time ago. He nodded to the guards and went to find Tera.
"Ah, Captain." He said. "How goes it?"