IC Kaunis
(Ga-Koro):
"What is that? And why do you so many people want to kill you? Who are you?"
IC: "The forerunner"
"One question at a time please. But about the company, oh yes, where to begin, where to begin," I paused, "Well, originally, the company was the hidden blade of the masses. What ever their views were, were ours. I don't know much about those days, I came in around the second generation of members. At that point, the company had been taken over by some wealthy businessmen that I do not know the name of. Their goal for the company was not the 'hidden blade of the people,' but spreading religion, gaining power, and money, mostly money. Anyways, some of us didn't like this, and formed, the New Company. The old Company, made an attempt to attack and eliminate us but, we survived, and crushed the old. But fragments of the old company still exist, trying to attack us."
IC: If the bizarre scene before Tyrus fazed him in any way, he certainly did not show it. His azure eyes betrayed no hint of fear, nor concern, not even cold calculation; his expression was absolutely emotionless. Slowly, the Lesterin slid his overcoat off, and hung it on a nearby hook, his gaze never wavering from Shajs, or his two "guests". With measured, deliberate steps, he walked over to the table, seating himself opposite the Skakdi in the last "available" seat. Beneath his mask of emotional void, however, Tyrus' thoughts spun like the wheels of the Iron Mahi. It was obvious that the Corporal was ill; the smell of sickness there was choking. His Kanohi let him perceive trace aromas of medicine in the air, meaning that Mons had either dived into self-medication or substance abuse. Delusions suggested the latter; unlocked doors and boils suggested the former. As the Skakdi was a military man, Tyrus leaned on the side of self-medication; thus, meaning some sort of unknown/rare/powerful illness was afflicting him. Possibly contagious, but that was impossible to tell at this stage. Suggested course of action: Convince Shajs to visit a professional healer. Possible requirement of forced detainment in order to accomplish this objective, however. Beyond his calculating mind, though, Tyrus' body language was still as unreadable as ever. He gave each of the guests a curt nod, though his eyes lingered on Shajs. "Some tea would be wonderful, sir, thank you." -Void
IC: CrasaroCrasaro's head did not stay out of the sandwich for long. He plopped his head back on it, mainly because he was too sick to eat sitting up, and because it was comfortable. Bread and meat can be a very good pillow at times."Mrghfrgh dmmpf sndddvch"Whatever it was Crasaro said, it probably had something to do with sandwiches. And maybe alcohol.Possibly both.
IC: Voulge
Voulge turned to look at Crasaro and considered him.. Then his glowing purple eyes drifted to the rest of the restaurant trying to discover who lifted Crasaro's head
IC: Barthel Deliresi
I looked back up again and saw that Geklan was gone. However, the chair was still there. And what a glorious chair it was. I slowly got up, sliding one of the dining utensils in a pocket as I rose, and quietly slipped over to the piece of furniture. I quickly looked around to make sure the merchandiser wasn't still there, and then I sat on the chair. I wondered why none of the others had thought to do such. I quickly positioned myself into a comfortable position, leaning back into the veritable throne. This day was going well.
IC: Voulge
Voulge turned to look at Barthel as he rose and smirked a bit
"So Barthel enjoying your new chair? Seems like it may be a little uncomfortable.."
Voulge then took another light sip from his white wine as he watched Barthel
IC: Barthel Deliresi
I gave a little grin, as I held up what had formerly been resting in the chair. "And why would that be? Do you really think I am stupid enough to not clear the chair out first?" It is true I hand't cleared it out at first, but there was no need to inform Voulge of that. Hopefully he hadn't seen my sleight of hand in removing them.
IC: Voulge
Voulge shook his head a bit
"I was referring to the fact the chair is made for showiness not comfort. But alas i am glad you are finding it so nice but i would get out of it before Geklan or Therris come back."
IC Kaunis
(Ga-Koro, Restaurant):
"Woah...", Kaunis said. "That's... something I didn't know. But next question: Who are you?"
IC: "The forerunner"
"I am the forerunner. Simply put."
IC: Barthel Deliresi
I pondered what Voulge had said for a moment, before giving my response. "I would rather sit in a throne and look like a king then sit in a more comfortable seat while looking like a pauper. Besides, this chair is more comfortable than much of the other furniture I've had to deal with in my life." I gave a slight smirk before continuing. "And when or if Theriss or Geklan return, I will just claim I am drunk and sat in the wrong chair."
IC: CrasaroThe Toa whose face had become one with the sandwich mumbled something about being drunk and how horrible it was.Having ones face stuck in a sandwich because if it was proof enough.
IC: "The Wanderer"
While Barthel had carefully hidden his little "sleight of hand" from Voulge, he had not concealed it from the cloaked Toa's prying eyes in the far corner of the restaurant. After all, he didn't have to worry about talking with anyone - he had simply been watching the restaurantgoers for the entire time. He rose from the chair and slowly, but moving with purpose, strode from his seat towards Barthel in his wannabe throne.
OOC: I'm not clear on what this "sleight of hand" was ... unless it was supposed to be ambiguous, then that's okay.
IC Kaunis
(Ga-Koro, Restaurant):
"That's a name?" Kaunis said in disbelief. Realizing that her question might be offending, she quickly added: "Uh, my name is Kaunis. I'm a musician. So anyway, what are you going to do about this 'Old Company'?"
IC: "The forerunner"
"Nice to meet you Kaunis," I leaned back,"I can't do anything at the moment, i am afraid. The old company has dropped off the map, like they never existed."
IC Kaunis
(Ga-Koro):
"Well, someone did try to kill you. And that someone will also try again. You need to be on your guard... maybe you need someone to cover your back?"
IC: Voulge
Voulge arched his brow as he heard this
"You would dare lie to our self-proclaimed leader?"
Voulge though now turned to look at the cloaked figure who as approaching Barthel though he made no move to stop him, instead letting his vibrant purple eyes watch him
IC:
LoJak ate his meal in silence, watching the others bicker and embarrass themselves. It was a sorry sight indeed. Crasaro was incredibly drunk, far more than would be befitting of a Toa. LoJak had wanted to admonish him, but thought better of it. Small steps, he told himself.
The good the Toa Sarsi had done over the past two months was undeniable. Already they were well known to the Matoran of Ga-Koro, and LoJak was certain that word of the Sarsi's deeds would seen reach Akiri Hahli's ears, if it had not already. And yet, LoJak couldn't help but feel that the Team still had a ways to go. They were still far from the Heroes they pretended to be. They were still broken, in desperate need of repair.
LoJak wanted to more actively help fix the others, but he knew that if he tried to quickly, his actions would have no effect. For now, all he did was say a few words of encouragement every often, offer a bit of advice here and there and try to be a role model for the others.
He ate a simple meal that tasted remarkably of chicken and drank only plain water. He had taken a vow of abstinence, of Temperance, and he would not imbibe any alcohol if he could help it.
When he finished, he sat back. LoJak finally decided he wanted some fresh air and to get away from the arguing. He excused himself from the table and headed towards the door. Just then he heard a shout come from outside, and a low thud. A few moments later Theriss appeared, walking inside the restaurant with the remains of a grimace on her face.
"Is everything all right?" LoJak sincerely asked the group's leader.
IC: (Mons Shajs/Shajs' Hut/Ga-Koro)
New guests! This was going to be one heck of a tea party. Shajs poured Tyrus a cup of non-existant tea, and stared at the other guests. One an old, grouchy Lesterin, another a Turaga. Both were in fine, flowery dresses. Eating a non-existant scone, Shajs cocked his head into an interested gesture as he talked to the hallucinations. Casually, alarmingly so.
"So'a Mrs. Rurvic, howa're ya doin'? Tha flowers musta be dyin' in thiss cold weatheer!"
"Now Shajs, they're doing quiet fine. You look ill, should I go to my son, he's a healer!" the Lesterin said.
"No, I hate healas. Acur'zed charlatins! Stickin' needas an' things inta ya, seriously, Mrs. Rurvic."
To Tyrus, Shajs seemed to be talking to thin air.
"Mons," weird, no one addressed Shajs in his first name. Not usually, at least. "You're hallucinating, dearie, you have a disease that will cause you to die a very horrible death. Mrs. Rurvic is absolutely correct."
"No, I'a can't be hallucinatin', tha'ts ridiculous. Mrs. Ruvic, porhaps yer hallucinatin'!"
"Go with our new guest, Mons."
"No."
"Yes."
"Fine."
He talked in mumbled tones for the next minute or two, before turning to Tyrus.
"Mmkay, coulda' ya take me ta Docta Nokama?"
OOC: I had meant for it to be ambiguous, as I was referring to the note Geklan left. I am guessing he left it on the chair, but as I do not know, I could not use anymore detail about Barthel moving it.
IC: Barthel Deliresi
My grin increased in size as I heard what Voulge said. "Technically I would be telling the truth. Firstly, I am certain I have drank enough alcohol to be considered drunk, and secondly, I am in the wrong chair. So when you think about it that way, I wouldn't be lying." I was in a spectacular mood. If only I had remembered to bring my drink with me.
IC: Voulge
Voulge smirked very softly as he heard this and nodded
"you do have a point there."
Though his eyes still watched the cloaked figure's approach
IC: "The forerunner"
"Where are you going with this?"
OOC: Drat, I was hoping to get away with not posting as Theriss until tomorrow. XD
IC: Theriss
Theriss walked in with a calm face, the slightest hint of a grin spread across it's almost perfect falseness. In fact, it appeared to be almost too perfect, to the point of being almost unnerving to those who saw it. A calm smirk with a hint of anger still lingering upon it. That was what the Toa Sarsi saw when Theriss returned to the building. She did not know that they had heard her through the wall of the building, thinking that none had the slightest idea of her little outburst.
She expected to get a few looks when she entered, but the expressions she met were certainly far from her expectations. Then LoJak spoke to ask her if she was alright. Maybe they had heard more than she wanted them to, or maybe they had merely pieced together the events separately. Whatever had lead them to actually seem worried about her would quickly fade, she decided, with her calm and unfazed return. "I'm quite alright, LoJak. I merely saw a past associate of mine outside and wished to get caught up."
With that, she walked towards the table, stopping before Bathel who was sitting in her chair. Geklan could claim it all he wished, but it was her chair all the same, and she was going to eventually get it back. Now, even Barthel the screamer had found the nerve to sit in it to await her return. She merely poked the Toa of iron in the shoulder before returning to her own seat. She had not yet seen Geklan since her return, and was awaiting to find him having set something even of heartless to await her.
What she found was a folder holding information about the sales for the team's merchandise. Apparently small action figures were selling extremely well, and they appeared to be turning a profit. Putting down the papers onto the table, she grabbed her glass and downed the entire mixture in a single drink. As soon as she finished, she merely slumped back into her chair.
IC: CrasaroPulling himself together for a moment, Crasaro lifted his head up to make sure that Theriss was indeed in the room. She was. And Geklan wasn't. After lifting his head up, a sudden wave of nausea slammed into Crasaro like a hurricane, and he quickly put his face back into his sandwich.He could taste some vomit in his mouth. It didn't go too well with his mystery meat sandwich.
IC: Voulge
Voulge turned back to Therris and smiled softly to her
"Welcome back Therris.. while i hope everything is ok i must ask something that concerns me."
IC: Barthel Deliresi
I was a little surprised by Voulge's response. It was at times like that I questioned why we were rivals, if but for a mere moment. And then my superb day came crashing down. As soon as I felt the touch I began frantically searching my pockets until I found a handkerchief. I then began to rapidly scrub the spot, before seeing who it was that had contaminated me. Upon seeing Theriss, I began to scrub more furiously while letting out a light, pained, squeal. "I must start carrying rubbing alcohol with me at all times." I mumbled to myself as I kept scrubbing.
IC:
After he had gotten Komae to agree to going off to Le-Wahi with him, Beosach had, quite quickly, begun making preparations for leaving. Finishing preparations, actually. He always kept things ready in case he needed to run off really quick - like, say, if that deal with the Nui-Jaga eggs had gone wrong - or in case he and Komae decided to leave. Like they had. His room, like Komae's was rather sparseley decorated. A nice fluffy couch there, a few books on a small shelf, and a tall lochaber resting in the corner were about all he had besides his bed and his pack full of items. He put in the books, strapped the axe to it, and gave a regretful glance at the couch.
"Don't worry, fluffy," he said, giving the cushions a few pats. "I'll be back for you soon, don't worry." After a moment, the Matoran moved the couch slightly, reaching behind it and pulling out a large briefcase. See, despite how much he liked this place, he didn't quite trust the storage room enough with the major source of their wealth. So he'd kept most of it in his room, with him - somebody'd have to wake him up to get to it, and if they went into the storage, they'd find nothing but counterfeits made out of cheap stone, rather than real copper and iron. He set that into the largest pocket of his pack - they wouldn't leave such wealth like that alone - before stepping out of his hut, and setting the pack down.A quick glance told him that Komae wasn't done yet, and likely wouldn't be for a while. Meanwhile, nearby, there was a small boatmaker's shop, with his items outside. Nothing much - just some canoes, and one thing that interested Beosach greatly. A nice little dhow - big lateen sail, room enough to fit himself, Komae, their items, and probably another two or three Matoran besides. Glancing back again, to make sure Komae was still working, Beosach quietly slipped into the water, swimming to the boat maker's shop.
He quickly came up on the shop's pad, running in. Behind the counter was a small Ga-Matoran - boy, did she look surprised at seeing a completely drenched Po-Matoran come into her store - who Beosach could tell from the scars and calluses she had was the boatmaker. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Beosach began, immediately, to haggle.
"How much for the dhow?" he asked quickly, his eyes intense, and his voice quick and businesslike. Unlike some others, who might be insulted by his quick, brusque tone, or stay surprised at him, the shipmaker raised an eyebrow. She said a number, and Beosach blinked in surprise. Really? Really? That must be one well-made shi--or perhaps she could just tell how much he wanted it."Seventy-five hundred widgets, you say?" he growled back, smiling, now. Time for haggling. "Ha! I could get a similar one for less than a thousand, and it would work just as well. I'll give you one thousand widgets, that's my offer." He grinned, as the boatmaker sighed and shook her head. She looked thoroughly pitiable - but it was all an act.
"Just to be nice, I will lower it to sixty-five hundred widgets," she said, then, turning aside to look at a short catalogue of tools. Beosach drew back in mock anger and surprise, putting a hand over his heart. Oh, poor, poor Beosach; his heart was beating so quickly now that he feared it might just burst. It was horrible, horrible, to try and charge so much of him; trying to render him a pauper, all for a ship, to try and take the food out of his mouth, to try and ruin him.
And he said just as much, before raising his offer to twenty-five hundred widgets. The boatmaker gasped at him. How low could he expect her to charge for the work and labor of her hands? She had to make money herself, and twenty-five hundred widgets wouldn't even cover how much she had paid for the materials to make the boat. Six thousand, that was the lowest she could go and still have enough to get by and make another ship.
But make another ship? She had more out there! Canoes, and even another dhow. Surely, surely she could make yet more money off of those finely made vessels, and give one to a poor Po-Matoran in need, so far out from home? She would kill him, he said, if she charged him that much. Thirty-five hundred widgets, even three thousand, seven hundred and fifty widgets, Beosach could go that high, though it might just ruin him; it was taking a great chance. Three thousand, seven hundred and fifty he begged, and pleaded. Charity, charity, could she not give it to him?The shopkeeper shook her head. Charity, he asked for, when she needed charity herself, at times! Still, she understood his plight. Five thousand widgets, a number they both might work with. Enough for Beosach to make a good investment, and if he was smart, make most of that money back, and not be rendered a penniless vagrant, and enough that she might be able to buy herself some food tonight, and a blanket, so that she could stay warm.
Beosach moaned and groaned, shaking his head. Five thousand was still too high. Four thousand, four thousand at the highest, he cried, tears stinging his eyes. Surely the boatmaker could lower it that far? But she shook her head, resolute. Five thousand. Beosach banged his fist against the table, letting the tears run openly down. She would kill him, and his family, keeping that high. Forty-five hundred, please, at least enough that he might buy bait to fish with too? But the boatmaker stood firm. Five thousand widgets.
Beosach sighed with defeat, eyeing the group of Matoran and Toa arrayed outside, who had watched the spectacle. With a great show of reluctance, sadness, pain, regret, and sadly, oh, so sadly shaking his head, Beosach reached for a money pouch, counting out five thousand widgets to the boatmaker. She gave him the rights and deed for the boat, and the name - Intrepid, it had been christened - before walking out with Beosach, tears still openly falling down his face, while she patted him on the arm and back.
Then they got to the boat. To Beosach, it was worth all of the seventy-five hundred widgets the boatmaker had asked earlier - and she knew he knew it. However, he could not let that show. No, no, the act must go on. The boatmaker untied the dhow, handing Beosach the coiled rope, and Beosach thanked her. He hugged her, wishing her luck in her future pursuits, and she him; and with a single, daring kiss on her cheek, he stepped back.And promptly bowed to the crowd that had gathered, before jumping back in the water, pulling the boat over by his hut, and tying the rope around the metal water pipe for the shower. It would hold long enough.Then he stepped up, grabbing his pack, ready to go - and still completely, thoroughly drenched."As am I, Komae, as am I!" the master haggler, old cartographer, hyperactive adventure, and savvy business partner growled, waving Komae over. "And I've gotten us the perfect transportation to where we're going, as well. I call her the Intrepid, a very nice, strong, boat - lively, you might say, and in that, it shares with me and my name. And now we have all the opportunity we will ever need, my friend, and a method of transportation that will offer us a great celerity, so that we will get to where we shall without any time seeming to be spent on the journey there!"He was still feeling just a little melodramatic after his haggling, it seemed.
OOC: Trying to get a whole new style of writing under my belt: macho. This is feministic macho, I guess.
IC: Vice-Captain Iraira
When she got the gleam in her eye even the greatest crooks would tone down their swagger long enough to contemplate personal safety. It was a hard-selling glare, making clear Mr. Good Cop was on permanent holiday. It was like shushing someone: the glare worked once successfully, more if the recipient had an underdeveloped sense of intelligence (at which point they'd be unconscious and without need of shushing anyways). It was a shame paperwork had such a lack of intelligence it created a paradox, gaming the system and refusing to disappear under her most commanding of glares.
"All the cannibals in Xa-Koro, and I'm stuck with briefs," Iraira grumbled as she wrote, "I'd even take that karz forsaken sea beast over these. At least I'd be doing something active instead of sitting in a chair and getting... Fat." She grabbed one of the crackers from its tray and tossed it into her mouth. It produced a satisfying, buttery crunch and then melted down her throat. "Bah."
She wrote quickly, but with a legible script. It was the report of her adventures in the Kumu Islets, and the Akiri would need the clearest of words. Elegance had been long ago thrown by the wayside. By now, Iraira's writing looked similar to this:
As the day lengthened, so did the list. By dinner break, sheets of parchment were heaped onto the edge of her desk, ready for binding and reading. Tomorrow she would visit the prisoners and refugees who had mutinied on the way back to Ga-Koro. With a yawn she stretched her arms and made off for a restaurant deep in the koro she loved.
OOC: Iraira re-entry. More tomorrow.
IC Kaunis
(Ga-Koro, Restaurant):
"Well, I have to admit I'm kind of intrigued about what you've been through. Would it hurt if I helped you?"
IC Kavala
(Ga-Koro, Prison):
Kavala sat in his prison cell patiently. He was uncomfortable, but that didn't matter for the time being. He knew he had the possibility to demand for quite high compensation for damages received during the Xa-Koro invasion of The Invincible and Infernavika. Plus, he was being held a prisoner for inadequate reasons. The case was as good as his.
Some time ago, Kavala had sent a formal, written appeal to Hahli, stating that he wanted to sue Ga-Koro for the treatment its subordinates had inflicted upon him. He also wanted to include the crew of the Infernavika in this case, for they were not under the authority of Ga-Koro.
Kavala waited in his cell for Hahli to arrive.
IC: Treize
Treize groaned as she awoke from a dizzying slumber. She had absolutely no idea what she had been doing the night before, nor did she know where exactly she was. The ceiling looked nothing like that of her cabin on the Fortune, and she could not smell the sea's salty air at all. Dimly, she wondered if she had been mysteriously transported by otherworldly beings further inland, but upon noticing the other being in the room, she immediately squeaked and fell out of the bed.
"Ow ow ow pain hurts ow."
Falling out of bed was a rather common occurrence for the horrendously unlucky Matoran, but she had never gotten used to the impact of the hard ground. After all, it hurt like Karz, and very few people ever got used to horrendous pain. She had no idea how her head was still intact from all the crashes, but she furtively hoped that it would continue to be resistant forever.
The other being in the room stirred, groaning in a rather similar fashion to Treize. It was expected though, seeing that the other being was clearly related to the naval captain, albeit one with a much better taste in fashion. As she pulled herself to her knees, the other Ga-Matoran shook her head, before blinking at the sight of Treize.
"Why are you in my room?" shouted Jaliax the First, super-generic tsundere. "Get out! Nobody enters my room!"
A body fell from the ceiling, crashing onto the bed and stunning both the First and Treize. Slowly, they turned their heads to face the newcomer, who, despite the fall, seemed to be quite alive, even if her body looked like it had been dismantled.
"Never taking you two out to drink again," muttered the dismantled-looking figure. "Seriously. Never."
It was Treize who decided to broach the subject first. "What ... exactly happened?"
Her answer did not come from any of the two in the room, but from another intruder, who had decided against a flashy entrance and simply kicked down the door.
"That," declared Jaliax the Twenty-Eighth, "is a very good question."
IC: "The Wanderer"
Voulge turned his head sideways for the briefest of moments to hide the hint of a smile he had thanks to Barthel's panic. When he turned back, he immediately noticed something was slightly amiss. It took him a little while, but then he realized that the cloaked figure had disappeared - he'd been just a few feet from him mere moments ago, Voulge was certain. He blinked.
The cloaked figure was back in the chair from which he came.
The Wanderer smiled grimly inside his hood. Theriss cut his work out for him.
OOC: I'm not trying to bunny your character, Voxumo. I just really felt that this was the best way to show it.
IC: "The forerunner"
"I do suppose I do need some help with what I am just about to accomplish." I paused for a moment, "Are you familiar with ta-wahi?"
IC Kaunis
(Ga-Koro, Restaurant):
"Not at all", Kaunis replied cheerfully. "I've been in Ta-Koro, though. To play my flute. What do you need to do in Ta-Wahi?"
IC: "The forerunner"
"I am also sure that you are familiar with the group that has made a small, poor excuse, for a base there."
IC Kaunis
(Ga-Koro):
"Uh, which one?"
IC: "The forerunner"
"The one that looks like someone took a pile of scrap metal, dumped it someplace, and gave it a fence. A group of Skakdi reside there."
IC Kaunis
(Ga-Koro, Restaurant):
Kaunis' expression was blank for a moment more, until it turned into one of shock.
"The Piraka!" she gasped. "I've heard of them. You think they have something to do with your poisoning?"
IC: "The forerunner"
"No they are to stupid to be the cause of that. Well, they are not entirely stupid. We believe that one of them knows something that the others do not."