BZPRPG: Ko-Wahi

IC- Captain Korzaa

A white knight stood in the middle of the abandoned inn, gazing grimly at the limp corpse before him. Matoro looked so peaceful, his eyes closed, mouth slightly open, his expression of fear fading. The brilliantly red blood pooling on the stones around him contrasted with his white armor. The Akiri was dead. The knight’s mind flashed back to the Turaga’s dead body. Now Nuju’s replacement was deceased too.

His jaw tightened and his hand clutched his spear painfully tight. Jaa was kneeling at Matoro’s side, weeping hysterically, a bloody chisel at his feet and the blood of his leader staining his guilty hands. A fireplace roared at the far end, and the strong wooden doors were wide open at the other, letting snow pile within the building.

The scene stretched on, and the guard’s mind raced and mourned and burned with anger. Their leader was dead. Immediately he turned to his two companions and glared at them with a fiery anger in his eyes rarely seen in a villager of ice.

“Go. Get the guards. Assemble them all. Get more men on the wall, we need eyes- if there’s an attack following, we’re going to need to know about it. Drag this scribe to the prison, and arrest anyone who is trying to flee the Koro. Keep the villagers calm, accept any help you can trust. Go. I’ll tell the Captain.”

The other two soldiers nodded stiffly and turned, running to raise the army and keep order.

The knight looked at the corpse on the floor one last time before he took off towards Korzaa’s hut.

- - -

Captain Korzaa took long strides down the middle of the road, sending concerned citizens scurrying out of the way. The Ko-Matoran didn’t yet understand what was occurring, but word was spreading of the screams from the inn and of Matoro’s scribe getting dragged through the Koro, covered in blood. Even those who hadn’t heard could tell that the flurry of military activity signified something bad.

In the meantime, the guard was standing strong on the wall, prepared for any attack that might follow as the city was flailing around without a leader. The aural security system had never been more closely monitored, listening for an approaching enemy or a fleeing assassin. The gates had been closed, not allowing any travellers in or out. Sanctum guard patrolled the streets, looking for any frantic villagers or suspicious figures.

“Get to your homes,” Korzaa commanded the villagers wondering what was commanding the Captain of the Guard’s attention. They were safer there, whatever followed.

It wasn’t long before Korzaa reached the brick built inn. It was small, run by a friendly couple and not too busy. Matoro had taken to visiting it after hours, finding it one of the only places he could truly relax and shrug off the burden of leadership. No one had known about it but Matoro’s most trusted advisers.

Korzaa strode into the hall and looked about, noting the tables pushed to the edges of the room, the dozens of guards, and Matoro’s dead body. As Korzaa approached, a lithe Toa of Ice wearing a Kakama approached her.

“Captain?”

“Send word to the other villages.” She said in a monotone, not ever glancing at the Toa she was addressing. The messenger nodded and disappeared.

Her face was set in a look of grim determination when she finally came to Matoro’s body.

She felt like her heart had fallen into her stomach. Like the ground had dropped away and she was falling down, down, down into the abyss.

This was her duty. The purpose of her and her guard. It was to protect this man and the Koro he controlled. She clenched her jaw so tight it hurt, and knelt beside him staring at him. Her eyes gained a hollow expression, as if looking off into the distance, imagining something that wasn’t there.

The leader of Ko-Koro had died. It was one thing to hear it, but another to see the man she had been devoted to dead on the ground. She felt like Nuju had died all over again. In a way, he had. Her leader, the man her life belonged to, dead, staining the ground with her blood. This time, it was worse. She had already experienced the pain of losing her master before. Once was all she wanted in a life time.

Her eyes closed, and a tear ran down the side of her simple Hau.

Vengeance was assured- that had been clear in her mind the second she heard the news. Justice would come, without question, to the killer. He would not remain unnamed, unseen, and unthought-of of like the murderer of Nuju.

The only question now was what happened next.

Who would lead?

Ambages? She, with her innate soldier’s sense of simple honor, disliked the bureaucrat. But perhaps he was better than some of the others.

A new Akiri? Could the village survive such turmoil? There was no outstanding individual to promote, no hero the Koro could easily rally behind.

Her?

Korzaa flexed her hand and looked at it. She controlled the guard. She controlled the military force of the village. In the end, it was not up to the people or the court or the travelling heroes.

In the end, it was not kings who hold power, nor those with money or influence or charisma. It is those that enforce it that do.

IC: The bare-chested vagabond raised an eyebrow. An undeniable air of tension and worry had gripped the city. He could feel it bleeding through the streets. Something had happened, and it was no mere triviality.

Of course, the fact that the streets he had walked had suddenly grown barren was also a relatively good indicator that something was amiss. Sudokuronu shoved his hands into his pockets and trudged onward, wary. A traveler was often versed in reading a situation, and he was far from an exception even in spite of previous antics.

He quickly examined his knowledge base on incidents such as this. Something had happened to cause the streets to be abandoned in broad daylight. Even in Ko-Koro, this was a rarity, people traveled throughout the area for their work if nothing else. That meant something was making people stay inside. The weather was not particularly bad, so there wasn't a reason for them to remain inside their homes unless they were forced to by something else.

That something was most commonly the guard. This meant something most have happened to cause them to order the civilians in. What commonly was a reason for that? A dangerous individual on the loose, someone who had likely committed an act of violence. And in the relatively tense political state of the island, who was mistrusted most? Foreigners. Those of other villages, especially with the very real possibility of this being a politically charged event. Granted, he understood hew was not the only Le-Wahi native in Ko-Koro, but he certainly wasn't someone anyone knew or recognized.

That meant he would be one of the more suspicious figures, walking around outside alone as he was.

Worse still, if he attempted to leave a dangerous place such as this, people would want to know why. They would question him, and he would risk getting a crime wrongfully pinned upon his head.

As he walked, the Le-Toa became exceedingly aware of how unfortunate he was to be here right now.

IC: Ihu-Koro. The Village that Time Forgot.

Not so forgotten this time. The Ko-Koronan Guard had actually remembered the sleepy mining village beneath a mighty tree when sending their messages, and a Highlander had awoken the Ahka to deliver it.

"It's a real bad thing, Miss," the Corporal said. Tamara couldn't remember his name for the life of her. The normally energetic Ahka sighed and tapped the hilt of her rena edged sword, hiding a tear as best she could. What the Highlanders and Ihu needed now was leadership.

The emotion could wait.

She didn't know the Akiri well- Karzahni, she'd barely met him. But he'd always seemed more... Logical and kind than most of the others.

"We don't have much of an option. Whoever they're picking as Akiri now... We need to have some influence on the choice. Corporal, wake the Lieutenant Captain and start toward Ko-Koro. I... I'll meet you there."

Ic: The architect and the headmaster walked side by side in the courtyard of the fully finished Academy. The Nuju-Marion Regal University was probably Ambages' crowning achievement in design and realization. Beautifully adorned to be a perfect melding of ideas from all six koro cultures while maintaining a distinctive Ko-Koro air, it was as grand a structure as Ta-Koro's keep and jointly ruled, with the hospital, a grounds as vast as The Massif's territory just outside Ko-Koro's direct administration. The university's buildings were tall and robust on the outside and extremely beautiful on the inside; Ambages had poured months of supervision and millions of widgets into the oversight of the project, and finally it had been finished. Kaccio couldn't have been more proud of his castle and neither could Ambages been more content with his creation.

The two men toured the facility with simple talk until Ambages gave Kaccio a headlong stare. "You're now ready to do the research you promised, then?"

The sage nodded slowly but firmly. "The task is fully capable of being undertaken. The secrets will be unveiled even if I have to pry them from Destiny myself."

"Good," Ambages said. "Good. We cannot dawdle anymore. This has been in the making too long already."

"Seven hundred years, I know, I know," Kaccio muttered under his breath. He had heard his master's speeches enough already. Now that things were under his control the research he had been hired to undertake a century prior was realizable; Ambages' reminders were sermons to the choir.

They stood in the central courtyard and stared up at the beaming statue of Turaga Nuju, the last of the Great War's leaders and the father of Ko-Koro, and bowed in ostensible reverence to the founding father. As if on cue, a messenger guard from Ko-Koro charged up, flanked by two University-stationed Sanctum guards, and stormed up to Kaccio and Ambages' presence, sweat dripping down from under his mask and beading unto ice drops that shattered on the hard stone floors of the courtyard. "My Lord Hand," the guard saluted Ambages halfheartedly, too overcome with distress and urgency to do anything more proper."

"Yes?" Ambages replied coolly, always more casual than his leader. The High Vizier was clearly somewhat surprised by the unexpected visit. He had assumed that his visit to the academy was safe enough that he could speak with freedom and avoid distractions. Clearly, however, this matoran had an objection. The architect's inward musings as to the guard's flight were far from the mark, however.

"Akiri Matoro has been assassinated. Scribe Jaa is held in custody. Captain Korzaa is holding the city under martial law and has sealed the entrances. Your presence, as Matoro's Hand, is desired."

"Is Korzaa presuming command of the city?" Ambages asked pointedly. Toa Kaccio looked down at his master with curiosity -- what was the architect thinking? he wondered.

"Sir?"

"Is Captain Korzaa assuming her status gives her complete authority of Ko-Koro?" he asked more firmly than before.

"I-I'm not sure," the guard stammered. He had been sent to fetch the Hand as soon as word reached the captain of the guard; Korzaa's actions afterward were unknown to him. "All I know is that she holds the city until further notice." Ambages frowned and looked around.

"Would you like me to go with you?" Kaccio asked his master, expressing a sense of concern that Ambages understood most -- the architect was his primary benefactor and he owed a great deal to him; he would fight to preserve Ambages' power if need be just as he had managed to wrest control of the Academy from its previous masters and instructors. Unlike the Peers or the politicians, Kaccio held little actual interest in having great power, so his loyalty to Ambages, though fueled by personal debt, was still one of honor and not to be swayed by ambition. Ambages did not doubt this.

Finally, the Hand nodded slightly. "Please do. Another dispatcher has been sent to Gabel?" The guard nodded. "Then yes, do accompany me." Ambages was not sure what, if anything, Korzaa was doing, but if it featured any sort of betrayal against the Hand of the Akiri and High Vizier, then a powerful toa was a good thing to have. And as Headmaster of the Academy, Kaccio had plenty reason to attend any emergency meeting to occur.

"Lord Hand," the guard pressed, "Ko-Koro awaits."

"Then let them wait no longer," Ambages affirmed.

* * * * *

The trip to the city was rife with questions from Ambages to the guard -- what happened in the city? what was the scene of Matoro's death like upon discovery? why was Jaa held as a suspect? what did Jaa say? what was Korzaa most likely doing? -- and overall it wasn't very helpful for Ambages. The akiri's death was an unexpected twist. He had intended to take the throne for himself soon, but this development was a part of a plan outside of his own and he doubted Jaa was the one responsible. The kind scribe had never once wavered from Matoro's side, after all; there was no motive. Jaa was not in the line for succession, either. People would be more wary of Ambages than they were of Jaa, at least from a logical point of view, but at least the development would help Ambages cement his own authority without an akiri in the way and avoid unattractive attention.

His arrival to Ko-Koro's gate was received well. Guards admitted the group without question, though he still gave each guard they passed a cursory glance to measure any emotions. He had even slipped an earmuff off his auditory canal to better gather conversations around him and listened to every guard's utterance. But another glance was shot up to the distant towers at the far corners of the city, the small parapets manned by members of his own army, surely observing the city's interior for betrayal. There was little doubt of his personal safety in Ko-Koro, but Ambages was a very cautions man.

"Captain Korzaa will be waiting for you at her office," the messenger guard stated. "Perhaps you should go see her at once."

"Thank you, but I have something else in mind," Ambages said, looking at the Sanctum instead.

"Sir."

"I insist." The Hand and the Headmaster both walked quietly towards the vaulted abbey-like structure and were allowed unfettered access as before. Ambages still held sufficient unquestioned authority to at least get that far, and Kaccio paused at the gates to see Ambages walk directly for the throne that laid at the distant end of the hall.

Ambages slowed as he came to the ice and marble chair, elevated on its dais from the vast and flat floor that surrounded it on three sides, and looked at the trappings of power still on the symbolic seat: The Seal of Kopaka and the regal vestment. No guards bothered him in the hall -- they all were busy guarding the entrance and didn't enter the ceremonial hall unless asked to, as per their habits -- and he gradually climbed the individual steps up to the throne with great respect. There they were, the tokens of office he sought. Was it too soon to seize them? No. He needed them then more than ever. He was Korzaa's better only so long as Akiri Matoro existed as arbiter between military and governorship, but with the akiri gone he alone held sufficient sway to prevent the captain's self-proclaimed elevation. Ambages had to show himself strong enough to be the akiri and exemplify that strength with the symbols of power.

He took the tokens for himself. He was, after all, the rightful ruler of Ko-Koro in the akiri's absence, as stated in the long and detailed laws of the koro. He first donned the robe over his shoulders, the black and whte stripes now having new meaning of mourning for Ko-Koro's second great leader, and then took the ebony gavel into his hand. The closest thing to a scepter Ko-Koro had, it alone was a beacon of authority worthy of respect, and Ambages hoped that in wielding it to his meeting with Captain Korzaa he would place himself in direct power over the soldier commander.

The robe glazed on the icy floor as he strode confidently from the throne to the gate where Kaccio stood waiting for him, and then he went to see the captain. He needed to reason and handle with diplomacy for things to work. And if that failed then things would be interesting for the koro, indeed.

IC: (Sukot urn Voyuk/Ko-Koro)

Opportunity knocks in mysterious and unexpected ways. Civil War, quite possibly, was one of them. Possibly the thing to make him even more rich. Captain Korzaa and this 'Grand Vizier' each were contenders in what would be a very contested role. Each probably would have their supporters, Korzaa likely having more. If things boiled over, he'd pick the most profitable side. Quite simply, he'd use the chaos to loot anything small and of value. While the forces were presumably fighting one another still, he'd hide it away until the battles died down.

Either way the war would turn, he'd either resign from the Sanctum Guard, or else flee into the snows to Villa Voyuk. It all depended on how paranoid the higher ups were, and if something would set them off. He hoped for it.

Standing in a group of guardsmen, huddled around Matoro's body, he watched Korzaa intently, trying to gage her reaction.

IC: He looked up a the wall.

The guard looked back down at him.

He glanced at the gate, then returned his eyes to the guard's.

May I?

The guard stoically returned his gaze and shook his head. Nobody goes in or out.

He averted his gaze and slumped his shoulders, foggily sighing his resignation. Was worth a shot, in any case.

Grimacing, he turned back towards the interior of the political minefield.

IC: Kiara

The female Vortixx walked towards the assassin. She tapped him twice on the shoulder and then curved to the left walking down an ally.

IC:

A hoarse sound which was apparently a chuckled came over the traveler's lips. "Something like that. But breaking in has such negative implications. It almost sounds as if we were up to no good."

Taleen paused for a second in her study of the drawing before her. Had that been a joke? She looked at the other dark Toa. He just shrugged. "I prefer calling it an unannounced visitation. And yes, there is more to it. In fact, there's enough to it that I could use your help on this one." Taleen looked inquisitive.

"How would you like to pay the second-most powerful man in the Koro a visit?"

IC: Noticing a Vortixx duck left down an alleyway after getting someone's attention well ahead of him, Sudo stopped.

That was shady. Very shady.

He took a moment to himself. Should he follow? Did he really want to get involved in something like that now, of all times? What if this would trigger his involvement with some secret society of assassins, or a crime syndicate? Did he really want to bring that upon himself now, of all times?

Well. We're certainly getting paranoid quick. he noted, frowning at his own frantic runaway train of thought. Had he this little faith in his fellow man?

He pondered a while longer.

IC: Taleen

"Only the second most-powerful?" Taleen asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. "Well, alright...but someday I want to visit the most powerful as well." All joking aside, Taleen knew well enough that being the second most-powerful at anything meant no one paid as much attention to you as the first. Any sort of robbery, coercion, kidnapping, and etc wouldn't bring as much attention to the public as it would for the most-powerful. No one thought twice of seconds.

That didn't mean it would be any easier to break into, being the second most-powerful might be lame, but that hardly meant he wouldn't have the koro's best security guarding the place. It would be difficult.

But that's the way Taleen liked it.

IC- Captain Korzaa

,

IC:

"Toa Reordin, there's been an attack...Toa Reordin...Reordin Maru......"

When the sergeant's lips moved, the wrong words came out. Matoro had been Akiri of Ko-Koro, Nuju's strong right hand, a friend to the people since long before he'd required them for votes or voices in a convocation chamber. Matoro had been well-guarded, with a time table designed by the higher ups of the Sanctum Guard themselves, men Reordin had worked with since he was old enough to understand what a soldier was. What a soldier sought: death, an honorable, noble death, that meant something.

It was one Matoro had not gotten; it was made all the worse when he remembered that Matoro had not been a soldier; Matoro was not supposed to die.

"Who holds the city?"

IC: Riaril, catching up to the crisis.

IC:

"Don't underestimate the architect." The Traveler said advisingly. Taleen nodded. She knew or at least had heard how much pull the Vizier had on the island. Widgets nodded, then they both focused back on the crude map he had fashioned. His fingers moved onto the rectangular building at the center. "As you can see, there isn't much detail on the estate itself, only what I could spot while out and about. The windows are not really a suitable access point as far as I can tell, but there seem to be two possible ground-level entrances to the dwelling."

The dark Toa indicated two points, marked a bit thicker than the rest of the linework. "I rounded the building a few times from a safe distance. It's pretty solitary so there is little in the way of directly sneaking in, at least not as far as drifts or vegetation goes. There is more suitable terrain on the far side, which could mask an approach, but it is guarded as far as I could see. The front-gate has posts watching it as well and shifts change fluently so there is always somebody there. I think a more direct approach is in order. What do you think?"

IC: Taleen

Taleen gave a slow nod as she stared at the map. "Yes, a more direct approach would probably be best...maybe we should disguise ourselves as guards?"

IC:

"A good idea, but we would need more time to prepare for that - I'd prefer to get this done within the next few hours. I know the Vizier is back in town, he needs to catch up on his duties, so while he is out is an ideal opportunity to get in and wait. Considering the short timeframe, a well-done distraction should work best."

IC: Taleen

"Distracting guards is all too easy. All it takes is a mysterious noise...a broken window...an unconscious guard...take your pick."

IC- Captain Korzaa

Ambages did not come alone. A tall Toa of Water in a long white coat and a Green and Tan Toa with what looked like a Hau also came through the door at his side. But Korzaa's gaze slid over them as Ambages' attire sucked up all of her attention. He was wearing them. The Akiri's clothes. The robe and staff of office. The sacred garments of the Turaga, and then Matoro.

She clenched her jaw so hard that she suspected the visitors could hear it, and her hands curled into fists as she saw what he wore. A stray thought crossed her mind, a suspicion- Amabges was so eager to take up Matoro's badges of office. Was he the one who killed Matoro? She banished the thought from her mind, and was just about to rise to greet the man when a new visitor entered the room. Toa Maru Reordin sauntered into her office like he owned the place, conjured up a cushy and spinny armchair with a few flicks or his wrist and threw himself down on it.

The Captain inwardly groaned. As much as she respected Reordin's power, she was not much of a fan of his style. Or his past as a guard.

But she returned his cheeky smile with a far more forced one. "I do not recall inviting you to our conference, Toa Maru, but I do not imagine you would like to wait outside. I would tell you to make yourself comfortable, but I see you already have."

"And Ambages, I welcome you. I hope we may find a way to resolve this chaos together."

IC:

"I was thinking more along the lines of attractive colleague sashaying up to the gate and offering help as a regular Toa hero, just out doing her duty. If you can keep them talking for thirty seconds I can slip past them."

IC: Taleen

"Oh I see...you want me to use my charm." Taleen smiled. "I can do that."

IC.

"Well, 'use' is such a strong word...but yes, I would greatly appreciate the help, even if it is just employing one of your less lethal but impressive talents." He winked and once again, a hint of the man underneath the cold assassin exterior shone through. She nodded.

"Let's do it."

He nodded and got up, sheathing the curved daggers back on his belt, before rolling up the map again and pocketing it. In the meantime, Taleen gathered together her gear as well before they both instinctively started cleaning up the room and removing their traces. Within five minutes, the chamber was spotless again, as if the two assassin's had never been in it at all. Together they exited and made their way downstairs, past the constantly lit fireplaces Rhanus maintained at the inn and made for the door. Taleen was reaching for the handle when the old man suddenly called out from behind the bar and hurried over to them.

"No, don't go out there, friends!"

They turned and looked at the Matoran. "What is going on?"

Rhanus looked a bit frantic and unsure of himself, as if he didn't quite know how to put his concerns into words properly. Something had clearly shaken him to his very core. Taleen glanced at Widgets. At least the dark Toa knew how to get the information out of the innkeep without wasting too much time or being insensitive. He bent his knees and leaned slight forward so he was speaking to Rhanus on eye-level. "Speak. Start with the beginning, end with the end." he ordered, not unfriendly, but in a strict voice. Rhanus was silent for a second, then, suddenly calm, but with a sad voice, said: "Akiri Matoro has been assassinated. The guards are patrolling the city. It isn't safe out there."

The Toa stodd back up to his full height and turned around. Rhanus eyes widened slightly. "Didn't you hear what i said?"

"We heard you." Taleen commented, reaching for the doorhandle. Snow blew in as she opened the front entrance to the inn. Rhanus looked from her to the traveler, with a concerned expression. The dark Toa smiled grimly. "We are Toa. This is what we do." he said. The old Matoran watched the two step outside and disappear into the night. With a sigh that sounded far older than he was, he closed the door again behind them.

IC (Zadron)

Zadron quickly followed Kiara down the alleyway.

Fine time I choose to take a job in Ko-Koro, he thought to himself, and cursed under his breath.

He scowled at the contact.

"Well?"

IC: (Sukot urn Voyuk/Ko-Koro Streets, Near Sanctum/Ko-Koro)

The richest, most affluent, and thus most possibly lootable districts of Ko-Koro were nearer to the Sanctum. Sukot had since chosen to use that as his area of patrol. The Fe-Toa slung his Patero launcher behind him, and kept his bladed weapons sheathed. Considering that the assassin was probably somewhere in the drifts by now, crowd control was his aim. He had in his hands a fine hollow club of iron. Good enough to beat looters aside from himself, while not heavy enough to kill them.

He did realize that the area might be an area of conflict, but didn't particularly care. He could handle himself quite well, so a Matoran or two with spears wouldn't phase him. He also remembered a quite obvious fact, one he should have facepalmed himself for forgetting. That Ambages was one of the richest persons on this backwater little island. And if he helped said fat-cat Matoran, he could be rewarded with enough money to retire in style. That is, if the Vizier's cause was winnable.

In the midst of all this thinking, Sukot saw an interesting sight in front of him. A Skakdi, diseveled at that, crouched beside a door. Being as he was a de facto guard, it was quite in his power to stop him. Karz, it was a rare chance that he got to do actual policing. "Stop!" he said. The brute got up, and gave a look at Sukot. The Toa didn't look like a Sanctum Guard, so the Skakdi likely thought that he was just a citizen trying to come to rescue.

Seriously, almost every Skakdi he ran into was either a mercenary or a criminal.

He took his club into his hand, the Skakdi, in response, raised a jagged, crude butcher knife. Come at me. And he did, the Skakdi rushed Sukot, and sliced at his arm. The blade cut through his greatcoat, but was mostly aborbed by the leather armor under it. Countering, he swung his club towards the being's head. His opponent grunted. Three more strikes, he on the ground. A couple more and some kicks, he was begging for mercy. One last club to the head, and Sukot obliged.

Hauling the thug up, he pinned the bruised and bloody thing to a lightpole, and strapped his arms to it with elementally-made wire. Tight. "Stay."

IC- Captain Korzaa

"And Ambages, I welcome you. I hope we may find a way to resolve this chaos together."

"As do I," Ambages said quietly. He looked thoughtfully from Korzaa to Reordin and back. Both were viable threats -- at any moment the soldier could have him seized and the Maru could merely say "BS!" and the Hand's rise to further greatness would be derailed. Of course, there were strategies to deal with them. The Guards could be disabled by the still-hidden personal army, and Kaccio would give Reordin a decent run for his money. But all of those things were drastic and conspicuous. Further violence would not at all go in his favour.

And so all he had left was diplomacy.

Ambages had the right to rule -- the only right -- but popular opinion of him suffered and he wasn't the most trusted ma in Ko-Koro, and though he wouldn't admit it publicly the reservations were not unfounded at all. He was a devious mind who had gotten his positions through careful manipulation of the now-dead akiri. And history pointed out that anyone who marches up to a throne with just a piece of paper declaring him rightful heir gets promptly thrown out. In order to take Matoro's place he had to prove himself, something he had never been able to do as the akiri's lead adviser and diplomat, lurking behind the great leader's shawl and in his shadow.

"I know what this looks like," Ambages said, raising his upturned hands like a cleric to gesture at the regal robe. "But as you so keenly pointed out, there is chaos, and what Ko-Koro needs right now is a strong hand of leadership. This cloak remembers Matoro just as it did Nuju before, and so I wear it now because I want to do what Matoro would have done and continue working. As Matoro's Hand I alone was authorized to fill his place in his absence, and as his adviser I was closest to him while he ruled. Second, that is, only to Jaa who is... now a suspect.

"We are not the same kind, Korzaa. I never was a Matoran of Ice like either of you two, but I like to think of myself as much a citizen of Ko-Koro as you or any other, and while you may not particularly enjoy the idea of a foreign-blooded aristocrat to hold this koro's scepter, this is how Matoro engineered it to be. He understood the risks of being akiri, as do I, and right now we have been victim of a scheme that threatens everything out city stands for. I didn't ask to have these invested in me," he said, gesturing as before, "but I am a man of duty and resilience if nothing else, and that is something you can appreciate, I think."

No smiles from Ambages in that meeting; that was not the time for icebreaking jokes (pun intended) or frivolous nonchalance but serious decision making. "Few people actually want me to be akiri, but I think we have no other option, at least for now. If we are to find the culprit of this disaster, bring justice to realization and preserve peace in Ko-Koro and Mata Nui, we, those of us in this room, will have to work together to do that. So, allow me to rule the city as the Hand, at least until this crisis is solved, and then, if desired, we can choose the new akiri. And I ask that we remember Matoro's motto, 'Peace through Willpower.' It will take our combined heads and strengths to restore our peace."

Ambages waited for the small council's response.

IC:

"I'm going to be blunt, Ambages," Reordin said after a second, sticking with his long-running stance of not using titles that he felt had not been earned, and not even sparing a glance at Captain Korzaa. "I don't like you much. I don't like your place at court. I don't like your title. I don't like the symbols you're wearing. I don't like the words you're saying, and even the voice you're saying them with is starting to grate on me a little. I don't like that you're speaking for what Matoro wanted and engineered when Matoro left nothing to speak for what he'd wanted, and there's no proof that he actually engineered anything."

Both Matoran had turned to look at him by now.

"Buuut, I suppose that a lot of people in this Koro have said the same about me over the years," he finally conceded, with a wink at the Captain, "and Matoro did undoubtedly see something or other in you, so I don't see a reason why you can't serve as Hand until such time as we figure out what exactly happened here. If you allow Captain Korzaa here to maintain her control over the Sanctum Guard as its own entity, autonomous of you, and allow me to pull in anyone I see fit to figure out what happened here tonight. You're no Akiri yet, and until you are we answer to Matoro, and not to you. Any attempted orders you send our way - specifically, my way - will be summarily ignored and probably laughed at a little bit. Those are my terms. The good Captain here might not see things my way - she rarely has."

He winked again at Korzaa and leaned back in the chair, giving it a little spin for emphasis.

-Tyler

Ic: "Korzaa is still captain of the guard. I'm no military man, Reordin, I don't have a desire to run the Sanctum Guard or alter how they do their sole job of protecting the city." He almost felt like mentioning how shoddy of a job the Guard was doing, not being able to properly safeguard its last two rulers, but swallowed his spite to maintain order. "As for you, you don't report to anyone but Stannis, as I believe he established long ago, so I won't be bothering you, either.

"Though as Hand, I speak for Matoro in his absence, either finite or, in this case, indefinite. He's dead. None of us can report to him, but you at least have my word that I subscribe to his philosophies," he gently reminded the Toa Maru.

He cocked his head slightly as if recalling something. "And... you may think that Matoro left no records of his will, strategies or engineering, but I daresay you're wrong. Try asking Jaa for his input." Now it was his turn to wink, this time to Reo.

He turned to the woman at the desk. "Captain, you've always been perceptive and rational. What do you think?"

IC: Riaril, with Ambages

Politics had never interested the healer. Politics made war, and war made death. Riaril imagined things would be much better if she ruled the world from her hospital on the mountain. Illnesses would be cured, weapons would be melted and reforged into tools of medicine and science, technology would be placed in the hands of those willing to care for all with compassionate judgement, yes a fine world.

With the words of warriors flowing eloquent past their barbed teeth, Riaril turned to her usual hobby for peace. Korzaa was sitting with a military stiffness, but despite the rigidity she still unconsciously leaned into her scars protectively. Riaril nearly reached to touch her own wounds, but thought better of the situation. The captain's hau was crude and hardened by warfare over centuries of subjugation. Riaril found the woman difficult to look at without crying.

She turned her attention to the other warrior. She started with the feet, working her way up the calves for scars or blemishes of any kind. There were none. The abdominal muscles, however, were fit enough to be made into a boat and sailed toward the closest down comforter. Riaril's golden eye overlooked the physique once more before moving on to the face, Reordin's eyes focused on the matoran in Akiri robes. They were the eyes of a hunter, a fighter, a lover, a king. Riaril shuddered with a sudden chill, then returned her attention to the conversation as the memories of her king floated like pastel paintings in the back of her mind.

IC: Riaril, Sulov Maru, and Kol Uskey (JAM BABY, JAM!) ~Some indefinite time frame before Matoro's assassination.

Two wings and a core, as Reordin described. The first stop twenty bio away. Reaction to confirmation of target? Unneeded for 2/2 of companions--reaction arbitrary. Speed increase? Under burden and blizzard, pointless. Solely continuation of existence, for both carried and walk, needed. I trudge on.

The snow had, for a rare moment in time, stopped falling. Riaril leaned against the railing of the third floor offices admiring the view. Below her plateau of command were the towers of the Nuju-Marion Regal Academy, the bell tower above the library the bane of any late sleeper. Morning cup of tea in hand, she turned away from the window, making her way down the long halls to the closest lift and the Core.

Kol's eyes flickered somewhere between half-opened and glued shut as snow glazed his mask, slipping through the chinks of his armor and melting. Icy bits of precipitation stuck to his body, only increasing the feeling of cold that dominated any other thoughts that dared slip in. Thoughts like, "what will happen when I return home?" or "do I even have a home?". These thoughts were what Kol referred to as "toxic" and had no place in the sound mind of an Ussalrymen.

At this thought, the Onu-Matoran's eyes snapped fully open. He had assisted a known criminal in destroying a hospital. He had no place waiting for him in the army- probably no place in society. The only thing back home was a prison cell. His family would hate him. The honest, kind man that had left Onu-Koro was a far cry from the slug-backed monster Sulov was lugging back. His voice rang out, too desperate; too anguished; too harsh for his natural accent to be heard.

"KILL ME.”

"No. You are better.”

“NO."

He struggled against Sulov's carry, but Sulov was strong and Kol was just too weakened.

"They're gonnuh kill me!”

Cogs grumbled as the lift descended. Riaril paid them little attention, her thoughts focused on the clipboard of patients in her hand. There were burn victims, the usual wound of foreigners just moving to Ko-Koro and deciding to build a fire in their living rooms, a laceration, even in one case a decapitation. She screwed up her face at the note and tapped the butt of a cigarette to the page.

"And what do they expect me to do with that?" She read further down then sighed when the red stamp of autopsy reached her lone eye. "Great. Another sanctum invoice.”'

"'Do no harm'," I quote the doctors' creed. "You live. Waste stopping.”

Ten bio. I see the gate and swing for it.

“Heal."

Five bio. The doors loom.

"Return."

Zero bio. I stop.

"Be good.”

I rap twice and wait.

It was with the yawning of great hinges a ko-matoran appeared, his head barely reaching the toa of earth's waist. Pale blue eyes stared at the wounded matoran in Sulov's arms, giving no thought to whom had arrived at the hospital. Without a word he turned on his heels and clacked down the small hallway into the central core, slipped through a gap in the grand desk, and reappeared on his stool, stylus in hand and ready to receive the patient.

"I am Majit. A doctor will be along…” the matoran stated with rehearsed blandness, then pressed a large circular button. The sounds of cogs churned within the Core and from above the tolling of a bell could be heard. “Shortly."

No time.

(But much patience.)

I pause on the threshold again.

Nurses arrived bearing a clean stretcher and quickly helped the toa of earth deposit his wounded companion onto the stretched linen and wooden frame. Then they were off into the blue light of the hospital, feet leaving a resounding echo in the arched hallways. The four beings rode an elevator to the second floor, where long rows of beds interspaced with night stands stood at attention. Some were filled with recovering bodies, others had privacy curtains, and still more were turned down, patiently awaiting the imminent wounded.

As the two nurses slipped their newest patient onto the bed and removed the stretcher a toa of water appeared, her long strides making her travel seem airborne. She wore a white doctor's coat of unique design, and as she reached the bed her clip board and tea cup slid onto the nightstand. Holding out a fist for the onu-toa she said, “I’m Gabel.”

I bump the hand. That means introduction. Viable? Hiding-not viable.

(Neither is ignoring a greeting.)

So I disguise.

"I am a friend," I say, visor closed. Withdraw a pouch and put it in her other hand. "Medical expenses and lodging."

All present done. Anything else?

Riaril nodded, turning to the patient after little more than a cursory glance at the toa before her. She understood the need for secrets, if even from a toa Maru. Who else wore such a unique and famous kanohi with a prosthetic left arm? Pulling the stool out from under the bed with the top of her foot, the healer placed two fingers on the matoran's brow, her eye closed in concentration. After a pause, she looked back at Sulov.

"What exactly were you two doing? He's a disaster inside.”

"Business relations.”

She knows.

"You must have had a pretty slim customer."

Riaril inhaled, feeling the well of air filling her abdomen. As she exhaled her kanohi glowed and a shiver ran down her spine. The parakuka on the matoran's back seemed to revile at the healing, its crusty surface undulating. A soft glow seeped from the wounds, slowly stitching together what once was whole. She finished with agonizing slowness, each malady treated with utmost precision. In the end the light dimmed and riaril leaned back, the matoran healed.

"That should do it unless you plan on tossing him back into the muaka den." Suddenly her shoulders rocked and she rushed to the closest wash basin, hacking up a silver liquid.

She's healing. I'm out.

Burden deposited and errand complete. Another pair left. Then the burdens are not carried.

I check the current problem while she works. Status-intact.

I proceed out into the blizzard, closing the door. Then start walking back to my Koro.

Next order of business is in Onu-Wahi's dawn, not Ko’s.

(For I have promises to keep.)

And kio to go before I sleep.

IC- Captain Korzaa

Korzaa paused for a few moments, before delivering her short speech slowly and clearly.

"You are correct, Ambages. As Hand of the Akiri, you are authorized to hold command of the Koro in Matoro's absence, and as a woman of the law, I see no reason not to give you that authority. Matoro trusted you, and it is what he would have wanted. I think we are all united in trying to keep this village strong. However, Ambages, being Hand does not give you the authority to wear the garments and hold the symbol that only the leader of the village is authorized to wear. At least one matoran was under the impression you were going by the title of Akiri. I am inclined to let you have your command, at least until tomorrow, on the condition that," she nodded at the Toa Maru, "I be allowed to carry on the temporary lockdown until we are sure that no more danger will come to the city, Toa Reordin be allowed to bring in anyone he feels can help us in the chase for the killer, and," she paused, "You give no grand speeches to the matoran. Your role as Hand will be a quiet one. I don't want to give the Matoran the wrong impression."

IC: Riaril

"Great, excellent," Riaril interrupted before the politics could move further. All eyes shifted to her, as if an incredibly taboo had just been breached. Even with one eye she held back eight orbs of injury, unfazed. She stood to her full impressive height and popped her back. After slouching against the wall of the office with her arms crossed the release was welcome and she could hear the internal components of her spine snapping back into proper alignment.

"Glad we got this ascension plan nailed out, but there's something that has yet to be addressed, and since I'm the doctor in the room I think it's my duty to do so. Namely, where is Matoro and how soon can I do an autopsy? The burial of our first akiri will be important to the people, myself included, but there's work to be done before I'll let anyone entomb him in ice. There's plenty I can learn from a corpse, even one stabbed to with a chisel."

Ic: "Actually, I was the only one aside from Matoro authorized to wield the Seal of Kopaka, so at least that token is mine until we have an akiri," Ambages corrected the captain. Like hers, his tone was careful and deliberate and didn't mince words. Efficiency and cold toughness was the language of the Ko-Matoran, and all the years of living among them had taught the architect their tongue. "The robe... I think it will be placed on Matoro's casket shortly after my exit here, as a gesture of commitment."

Korzaa had been promoted to captain since Nuju's death because of her peculiar intuition and direct cunning (especially compared to her sacked predecessor), her devotion to work notwithstanding, and Ambages regarded her as the keen-eyed soldier that she was. Politics, being strategy of a sort, could just potentially be something she understood well enough to get in the way of Ambages' rise to power. And that would have been unfortunate. Ambages hated seeing useful, good people wasted to the pit of chaos.

"The lockdown may continue as I think you did well in establishing it, and as I said Reordin operates on a different level than either of us. And sure -- no speeches. Business-as-usual protocol doesn't require speeches." He sighed a little as he felt the weight of responsibly settle on his shoulders in full. "Have we sent news out of the city of this tragedy?"

Korzaa nodded. "The other five akiri know, as does the 'akiri' of Ihu-Koro and everyone in this room."

"Good, let's keep it that way. The fewer people know about it the fewer you'll have to deal with vagrants coming to our walls to help, either with good heart or not. With one notable exception: Reordin, I have heard that Toa Leah can detect lies. If this is the case, perhaps she should be sent for to help us analyze Jaa. If she cannot come, then we'll have to go about this some other way. Gabel, you may analyze the akiri's body over this night, away from the eyes of onlookers who might protest, but please be as kind as possible -- he is still loved.

"I should do what I promised and then retire to my quarters for the night," he said as he got up. "We can do things better with a clear and rested mind tomorrow."

IC: "Uh, mate, it's kinda cold out here and we got this, uh... note earlier about getting down here to help."

Tamara shook her head as the Sanctum Guard looked down at the face of the Corporal, who was only kept from breaking into a grin by his preoccupation with Matoro's death.

There was a reason she didn't know his name.

Everyone called him Corporal Smiley.

The Ahka spoke up over the Corporal's next comment, which was something like "bloody snow gets every-" before the Lieutenant clamped his hand over Smiley's mouth.

"We represent Ihu-Koro, and received a letter from your Captain about the unfortunate passing of your Akiri. May we come in?"

The Guard nodded in the affirmative, Tamara motioning for the other two to follow, the Corporal still struggling to get the Lieutenant to let go of him as they moved into the city.

"Lieutenant, keep an eye on the Corporal. I'll send someone for you if I need you."

Heaven knows Smiley had damaged enough diplomatic endeavors.

With an affirmative and muffled cursing, they were off, leaving Tamara on her own to go toward the building detailed in the letter.

OOC: Permission granted by Visaru.

OOC: Thanks Eyru for the wonderful jamming.

Suggested Music:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZmTBQoPTNs

IC: Caerus Valli and Ishi Polzin, NM Academy (Library)

The voice was softer and higher than he had expected. “Hello.”

"Interesting choice of location," Ishi answered, “it’s got some good reading though, I’ll give it that.”

"Knowledge," the voice said. In fact, it sounded familiar. Those eyes, too, reminded him of someone. "Knowledge lives here. There exists no richer bank, no grander vault, no mightier armory, than a library. It is here that secrets come to die.”

"Well put." Ishi leaned against the bookshelf and crossed a leg as he stared down the row. "I think this place could do with a few more secrets martyred, don't you?” Through the hole to his left he passed a folded note, the paper made of rough papyrus from Ga-wahi. "He's been an interesting character.”

The note disappeared through the shelves, and there was silence. Then an object appeared in its place: a small purse. Upon perusing its contents, Ishi would find a miniature fortune in 50-widget pieces. "No need to bite them," the voice said, tinged with humour for a moment. "Those are real.”

"As are you it seems," Ishi replied cheekily while slipping the pouch into a pocket of his coat. Scratching the rim of his kaukau, the informant continued. "He's not as much of an anomaly as thought. Same old stone-head as always. Has a need for security, and that's been worn thin by roaches in the military. Had to relieve one of their post who’d sniffed too deep." The way he spoke about killing a spy sounded as if throwing people off the iron mahi was part of a balanced exercise program. "Though, I did learn something useful during all the adventure. I know who’s behind the monorail sabotage. “

"If this is true, your reputation is indeed well earned.”

"You'll find my reputation is far behind my true abilities. When the Inquisition arrives I like being the smallest fish in the pond.”

"If your abilities are sufficient, the curious will never come calling.”

"Precisely." He paused, letting the time go to better find the next precious sentence. "Several figures were involved, and all for interconnected reasons. The Iron-mahi is the key.”

"Ta-koro had the saboteur in custody, or so rumor goes, but have yet to glean anything, An obvious fact since the meeting of Akiri would have been less pleasant if they had. The earth, however, has so much darkness to hide the truth.”

"Any man can pick a lock, yet you claim to hold the key. I have yet to hear any proof for your claim.”

"I'm just here for the game," Ishi admitted with a soft laugh and a nonchalant wave of his hand. "I wouldn't make a claim without proof.”

"I know."

Ishi's hand retrieved a second note. It disappeared into the gap. "You'll find a cypher, of which this is but a copy, in your hands. The original is with a briefcase stripped of inorganic parts and a corpse either in Po-Koro, or, even by now, Ta-Koro. A ta-matoran spy was found on the side of the po-koro railway with the baggage already vandalized. I assume the detective corps in Ta will have begun to work some sense out of the numbers if they've got the package. Of course, I've already cyphered it. In a gist, the matoran had stolen components from radio relay towers, given them to a middle man, and then headed for a safe-house. Perhaps the sponsor wished for loose ends to be cut and killed the runt. In any case I made due with the note.”

"Well played, Hapaka.”

"Of course.”

“Before I explain this puzzle further I want to learn a few things myself. Being sent north means news more or less evaporates like water in a desert. First, what is this Abettor, and second, what are these strange beings from the West who visited Ga-Koro?”

The voice sighed longingly. "Such rich secrets... so many eons of life and death are hidden from our eyes, my friend. There are some flies that even escape my webs.

“What little that has tickled my ears has surely brushed yours as well. The Abettor is a monstrosity of iron and crystal that guards the Vault below the Kini-Nui, placed there from time immemorial. The Dasaka are a race of beings from a distant land who call upon different powers and a different god. There is little else I can tell you of them.”

Ishi rubbed a motley colored hand against the bottom of his kanohi in thought. He went to speak, but quickly shifted gear when he saw a matoran approach. Ishi flipped open the book in his left hand, staring at the stomach churning romance novel without noticing the words beyond 'he gripped her in a tight,' until the passersby had found their favorite trash and disappeared. "I see. That leaves plenty for my weekends then.”

"I would be disappointed if you said otherwise.”

"Glad to have a sponsor who supports my hobbies. Now, where was I …"

"The bomber.”

"Ah, yes." Ishi clapped the covers of the book together for emphasis and tucked it back under his arm as precaution. "Our bomber is without a doubt the toa Ta-koro took into custody. It was a web of espionage, and cleverly planned I’ll be the first to admit that point. Like any good gardner the seeds were planted in soil already tilled and ripe with mistrust. All they needed to do was sit back and occasionally water the project with money. The remote technology was an issue easily remedied by mining Po-Koro’s radio relay towers for individual components. Once the materials were taken they had to be smuggled into Akriin's hands – his name was in the Daily. I tracked down the missing links in the past month or so. The trade-off happened in Onu-koro, the last place the mercenary had visited before the hit. I would have done the trade in Ta to begin with, it makes the most logical sense. Honestly, I can't think of a reason why they did that other than 'the closer you are to trouble the farther you are from harm,’ but they didn’t tread lightly on hot ground in the final phases. My guess is the job was behind schedule and rushed, a careless mistake leaving a clear trail.”

"We make a living off mistakes.”

Ishi nodded in agreement.

"Which is why it's all the more ironic,” the voice continued, “When one of us makes one of our own.”

Ishi blinked, the words going multiple ways in his mind. After a brief pause the matoran gave a tired sigh. "Po-Koro was rewarding while it lasted, but the game has gone stale with Hewkii. Now all I do is sit and talk about kohlii moves.” Even as he spoke Ishi thought of the journal tucked away in the traveling bag over his shoulder, the cryptic pages begging to be read after the silence their dead writer had banished them too.

"Where do you wish to go?"

"Where the stakes are highest.”

"We stand there.” The voice chuckled softly. "It's a dangerous job, being a leader. This peaceful mountain's peak is being cut off, snow and all.”

"You certainly offer a high stakes game.”

"When you play the game of thrones, you win, or you die.”

Ishi shifted, suddenly chilled despite the warmth of the library. "I don't suppose you want me to stop this?”

"It's your life, Hapaka.”

”I'm in."

IC- Captain Korzaa

“Keep the death a secret? Why do we not wish for help in finding Matoro’s killer?” Korzaa asked, “Why should we keep such an important piece of information from the rest of the island? I am grateful for any assistance or knowledge that can be gained from an outside party – in fact, I have already requested some from Ihu-Koro; men from the village should be on their way right now. Regardless of the problems it might prevent, secrecy is never beneficial.”

Ic: Ambages shook his head. "It's no secret -- the people who need to know about the death already know thanks to your quick messages, but we have to be mindful -- anyone can be the culprit of this assassination, even another village. I would rather we keep this compartmentalized and maintain the lockdown, as you requested. If everyone who thinks themselves to be a competent gumshoe shows up at our gates it will only clutter the investigation. I'm advocating that we use the resources we already have to solve this, not complete secrecy. Are we on the same page?"

IC

Korzaa nodded thoughtfully.

Suggested Music:

IC: Riaril

"If you need me I'll be drilling a hole in the back of Matoro's skull," Riaril commented and stepped out of the office. The door closed behind her and with the lightning of a cigarette she strode off.

"No rest for the wicked."

~

An engine’s rumble grew louder from across the horizon, moonlight glittering off the snow. Birds flew against the canopy of stars, a wide V against the moon. As the rumble became a roar an ice tarakava sped past, its treads carving a bruise into the landscape then disappeared around the corner until all that was left was the rumble. It too would fade.

Riaril gunned the throttle, pumping her wrist forward until the skis on the front of the machine cut like knives through the fresh powder, hands gripping the controls, vibrations rushing up her arms into the sockets of her shoulders and up her neck, coat covered in white spray and goggles blurred by the speed. Her left foot tapped against the gear shift, cresting a small hill, and Riaril exited the ravine to gaze at the splendor of the Nuju-Marion Institute. The complex was spread across the mountainside, using the natural plateaus as rocky ground for construction. Lightstones glittered like diamonds from the rooms of studying scholars at the academy, ignorant of the tragedy beyond the Ko-Koro lockdown.

“What a shame,” Riaril growled beneath a thick scarf and revved the engine, setting down the hill and back up the winding stretch of slope toward the hospital. The pallet behind her jostled on the occasional bump, white body bag rocking limply under the restraining chords. She pulled into the open garage, packed snow floor keeping the basement cold, and dismounted, goggles hung over the handlebars.

“What happened?” Majit asked as he rose from his stool and hurried to close the door. The segmented sheets of metal screeched in the cold and the secretary cursed the snow for a rare moment of his life. After bolting the door shut he wiped his hands on a nearby cloth and looked to the doctor. “Gabel? There was the runner, then you left. Now you’re back on one of these.” He pointed at the ice tarakava with the corpse on the back.

“Hmm?” Riaril responded, already busy with untying the bag from the pallet. “Autopsy.”

“How Ko of you,” He grumbled and headed to the lift as she carried the body-bag in her arms. “Presumed death?”

The lift rumbled upwards as he turned the crank, each cog clicking against the next and the ropes whining. Riaril looked down at the thick cloth, gently blowing off a few snow flakes before she answered. “Assault.”

Majit sighed.

~

They were alone in her observatory: Riaril and Matoro. Without the fullness of life the once-leader seemed like a small child; a fragile, innocent creature worthy of protection. She had laid him out on a white sheet atop the cold operation table. The surrounding mirrors echoed his body into infinity, each as still and limp as the next. His ice blue kanohi of x-ray vision had been removed, placed on a padded stand off to the side for later inspection. The initial opening statements of the autopsy were written onto a form held tight to a wooden clipboard. Riaril talked quietly to herself, mulling over the information as she worked.

“Male. Ko-Matoran. One and three tenths bio and 120… No 120.7… Matoro, how old are you now?” She asked the blank face, leaning over the table for a closer view. His eyes stared blankly at the domed ceiling above her, not deigning to answer. “Guess I’ll put you down around 1500.” Setting down her clipboard she investigated for unique markings or tattoos on the leader. She found little besides a small scar on his leg.

“No dents on the carapace, two bite marks on the lower anterior of the left leg… And I should probably mention the gaping hole in his neck.” She scraped her pen across the paper quickly then looked back at his face. Despite her centuries of practice, the face of the dead at rest always got to her, floating on the walls when she couldn’t sleep, as if waiting for the woman who had escaped the same fate. The clipboard lowered from the writing position, pen limp in the hand.

“Who were you, Matoro?”

~

The hours ticked by, dawn rising in the east with the first fading of starlight. Matoro had been opened, evaluated, resealed, and now lay on a metal cart with a tag around his toe. A white sheet covered his body, draping low on the cart for posterity. Underneath, Riaril had positioned the matoran’s hands over his heartlight for both aesthetic and functional purposes. Riaril stood over a sink, her hands stained from the work despite how hard she scrubbed with the brush, eyes blurred with weariness. Small jars of specimens were lined up on a metal tray next to the majestic microscope which took up most of the observatory, and her clipboard of notes hung on a peg next to the mirror. She didn’t want to look in the mirror above the sink, but caught the silhouette of a blue kakama darting across the reflection and couldn’t help but stare.

The girl looked back, yellow eyes feral and malicious. Her mouth broke into a crooked grin, the tattoos on her teeth gritty with lack of cleanliness. The kakama was pale, and a small chip had flaked off under the chin. A long, silver scar in the shape of a kraata crawled along the girl’s neck. Riaril held her breath as a hand extended toward the edge of the mirror, fingers pressed against the reflection, contained in the prison of hallucination.

“Oh go away already.” Riaril sighed and turned around. Like always, there was nobody there. Nobody except Matoro. With a sigh she picked up the kanohi, pulled down the sheet to the neck, and took a final look at the chiseled features of a man who devoted his life to a cause, someone who chose the noble road above the easy path, a man who followed in the footsteps of someone greater but still did the best he could. Riaril closed his eyes and returned the kanohi to his face with a solemn demeanor.

“Someone ought to remember you, Akiri of Ko-Koro.”

IC: Kiara

The Vortix pulled out a bag.

"The money is in here, though I have an extra proposition."

IC: Tamara masked her nervousness and rapped on the door to the Guard Captain's office, feeling small in the great ice hallways.

After all, Matoro had been the Akiri of a massive village. If he had died, then what chance did she, the shaky leader of an often thought of as inconsquential settlement, of surviving?

IC: Death.

A fitting topic for a Reaper.

Rekhan shook his head and leaned back into his chair at the Lonely Snowflake Inn, the armor as black as tar contrasting against the bright white of the City of Ice outside his window.

Ic: Ambages stepped out of the little room and took Matoro's cloak off and draped it over one shoulder like a sash; it was a poor fit for him indeed and he felt better with just his simple black overcoat anyway. He had just made it a few brisk steps and metres away from Korzaa's door when another matoran passed him the other way and rapped on the captain's office door. Ambages paused and looked closer at the woman. She clearly had purpose and held a parchment not at all unlike the one Gabel held in the previous meeting. "Excuse me," he said politely and shuffled his weight to extend a hand, "you must be Tamara. The 'akha' of Ihu-Koro, am I right?"

IC: "That's me."

Tamara blinked and shook his hand, trying to remember... "Ah! You're the Hand of the Akiri, are you not?"

"I wish we were meeting under better circumstances."