BZPRPG: Ta-Wahi

IC Did Grokk even know what the ILF was? Granted, the unaligned army had once been a powerful force on the island, rivalling some of the Koro's militaries in size and strength. Their self-declared purpose had been to free the island from the Makuta's grip, and they had thrown themselves into said purpose with a passion. Then the Makuta was killed, and suddenly their raison d'être was gone. And instead of disbanding and scurrying back under their rocks like good little insects, they'd banded together under the name of justice and peace! and done... absolutely nothing. They were the forgotten army, a band of heroes that had done little heroic and less noteworthy.

A potential threat was still dangerous, however, especially one that claimed to fight for peace. An immoral man could be predicted: he would usually make rational decisions, unhindered by emotion or conscience. But a man with a conscience was dangerous; you never knew what he was about to do. The ILF was a sleeping snake, but a snake nevertheless; Caerus meant to cut its head off, and then he, too, could sleep soundly.

"Cheap? Kittens, all I'm asking you to do off the has-been leader of a washed-up group of would-be heroes. You have enough talent in your pinkie finger to get that done in your sleep."

He sat back, fingers steepled, doing his best to cut an impressive figure even amidst the debris and broken wood. "Nevertheless, I appreciate work well done, and I expect nothing but the best from you. Bring me the target's corpse, and I'll match his weight in coin, widget for widget."

IC: The BeastI relished the uncertain look that spread across Hakann's face for as long as it lasted, which was a quite an enjoyable while, considering the fact that the expression took about as long to form as it did the psychotic pyromaniac to count to five. No, I really didn't like Hakann that much, but then again, I rarely harbored an affection to most known things... unrelated to beating the snot out of said known things. In all honesty, could one really say that these insolent Brakas weren't better off as Piraka-scented unidentifiable body parts pasted against the walls of our claustrophobia-inducing submarine? No? Well, first hand experiences can be quite the persuasive mechanism.

But enough with understatements of the magnitude of Hakann's ego, for the thought of swimming with the semi-aquatic Reidaks after a well-aimed shove was already beginning to slip from said bag of hot air's feeble mental capabilities. Oh well, the situation was therapeutic while it lasted. Zaktan gave an order in that static-filled crescendo of buzzing he used for a voice, and it didn't take long for the rest of us to file back into the submarine at a respectable speed, if not a respectable fashion, considering the fact that I quite nearly made good on my remark to Hakann as I accidentally shoved past him in my obvious hurry to get to that rather fascinating island. Who knows, we might break record speed and even make it there without incident this time, seeing as we're now about half as heavy without Reidak onboard.

I will admit, it was rather disappointing about Reidak. What a shame to waste such a great mass of manipulable muscle. Then again, the brute had a tendency to stay alive despite most odds stacked against him. I myself certainly would prefer it if he didn't end up as a pile of gnawed-on bones scattered throughout the depths of the sea. Why? Well, if he did make it back, he might take out the two imbeciles that saw fit to shove him out the airlock. A world without Hakann was an appealing prospect indeed.

Inside the far-too-small submarine once again, an occurrence that was most displeasing seeing as it meant spending even more time in close proximity with the rest of them. The large, empty space left by Reidak didn't help much, unfortunately. And so, we resumed our previous positions, I myself claiming the back corner as Avak's hands flew over the control panel he designed himself, something that made me a bit weary. Not to mention he failed to inform the rest of us how to operate it, meaning he could send each of us out into the ocean as easily as he did Reidak. If he had the guts, that is.

With no convenient skulls to crush in the mean time, I simply unlimbered my water harpoon from where it was securely strapped across my back. A safety precaution taken after that last few violent minutes. It provided me something to do with my hands while we waited, as well as an effective way to put Hakann on edge as I lazily spun the buzz saw on the end of the weapon with a push of my claws. Setting off any kind of weapon wasn't the smartest idea in an inclosed space, but it did give me some deep satisfaction to see the rest of the self-styled Piraka squirm.

“So...” I began, addressing no one in particular as the waves crashed away from the sides of our not-so-submerged submarine. “Any natives good for target practice, you think? Letting off some steam.”

I grinned, or my toothy grin grew in size, at the last part. I had a few particular pass times that I enjoyed. I called it unwinding. Let me introduce you to my work in progress, a little idea of mine to share my superior knowledge, I call it Anger Management: Vezok's Stress-Releasing Guide For Those Who Hate It All.

Now, shall we begin?