The soft pitter-patter of rain, rhythmically striking the metal hull of the boat, creating a light drumbeat that partially echoed in the cold night. The splitting of the waves as the front of the boat carved a slow path through the icy, black waters. The snapping of his own fingers as he observed the familiar sea, a small fire flickering on and off as he did so. These sounds were all that the Toa of Fire heard as he sat upon the deck of his group’s ship, leaning over the middle bar of the railing, his glowing red eyes set on the horizon. His small fires, hissing as rain fell upon them, constantly attempting to quench the flames, illuminated the area around him. Two sword hilts glistened in the sheathes on his belt; from beneath the hood of his rain-soaked crimson and black robe, which he had pulled tightly against his armored body, a scarred, black and red Kanohi Kualsi glinted momentarily in the light.

Clasped on his shoulder was a silver piece of metal, bearing on it an intricate coat of arms – a demonic, yet regal looking mask, set behind a dagger and a branch; the symbol of the Dark Hunters, one of the largest, longest lasting groups of criminals and murders in the known universe. It was not a symbol that the Toa wore that often, nor did he wear it lightly; while he was indeed a member of the organization, he had always felt certain… restraint within the organization; as such, his loyalty to the cause was questionable at best. Despite his personal feelings towards them, however, this mission required that he bear some sort of identification for his new employers. The Toa simply could not avoid wearing that hated clasp this time around – though, admittedly, it wouldn’t be required for long…

He let his eyes wander to his left, scanning another area of the vast sea; amidst his peripherals, barely visible due to the rain that was running down his mask in an impressive stream, he could see the door to the inner cabins, where his brother and sister hunters rested. There they waited, as he did, for their arrival at Exa-Nui; and from there, introductions with their employers.

The Toa of Fire turned his gaze back to the front of the deck. He, like the others, had received little information on the two beings who had requested their services. From what he had been told, the contractors had been a group of five Makuta; two of these – a pair of twins, Makuta Jaeda, the Mistress of Crimson, and Xaeda, the Lord of Ebony – acted as their leaders. Together, they acted as guardians and watchers of the island of Exa-Nui, sworn to keep the darkness of the island – confined to a vast land known simply as Kra-Wahi, the Darkness of Exa-Nui – in check, making sure that the shadows did not provide a threat to the rest of the island.

That, however, was all he knew, discounting his own, personal knowledge of the island. For the Dark Hunter, just like those that currently traveled with him, had originated on the island, acting as defenders of the land along with their other six brothers and sisters. Jealousy, however, was a powerful corruptor, and the six of them had found themselves envying the superior skills of their brethren during the Great War. It did not take long for the Toa of Fire to convince the others to leave with him, to seek out new lands…

Yet, he did not remember these Makuta being on the island when they had left. Kra-Wahi had existed, there was no doubt of that; he recalled that terrible place far too vividly. He remembered the ever-present darkness in the area, a shadowy mist that made it virtually impossible for most normal beings to see in. It was a place infested with monsters that Matoran could only dream of, never imagining that they were right at their door step. A gate had separated it from the rest of the island, keeping the shadows behind it at bay; how that had worked for so long, and why it seemed as if it wasn’t working now was another question entirely…

So… what could Makuta need our help in keeping back there, if they possess dominion over the darkness already? he wondered. Do doubt they were plotting something; his experience in the Dark Hunters had taught him that even the most docile of beings could and most certainly did have plots hidden beneath their wings, just waiting for the right moment to strike. The Toa shook his head; he was making assumptions. Soon enough, they would find out what they were needed for…

It seemed like an eternity before the Dark Hunter received the first dreadful sign that they were drawing near. Deep, black clouds suddenly blotted out what light of the moon had managed to get through the rain clouds. The darkness only intensified the sounds of rain and wind around him, yet it seemed to dull his feeling of touch; a small fire coming to light in his hand quickly fixed that, giving him a slightly larger field of vision. Steam rose from the flames where raindrops continued to land; their hissing, coupled with the shadows around the Dark Hunter, gave the surrounding darkness an unnatural feel to it, one that he hadn’t felt since he had been here last.

Home sweet home… he thought bitterly, gripping the railing tightly as he rose to his feet.

The storm had passed. A soft fog clouded the streets of Ta-Exa, partially obscuring the buildings and road. The sun was beginning to rise, the pale light of dawn cutting through the fog, casting an eerie glow on the area. Few souls were about at this point; a pair of Matoran walked along the road, cloaks wrapped tightly around their bodies as the cold of the morning slowly wore away, and a merchant Toa was busy setting up his stall, preparing for the consumers that would inevitably stop by later in the day. A Toa of Fire, his armor primarily dark red and supplemented by gold, walked silently outward from the large, domed building at the center of the village, toward the outer walls of the village. He held a lantern in his hand, holding it out in front of himself to light the way through the mist; strapped on his back, two sheathes crossed each other in an X-shape, firmly holding a pair of swords in place.

This was Torith, current Toa Exa of Fire. On a normal day, as he ascended the stone steps onto the great, rounded walls of Ta-Exa, his posture would be one of near-perfection; straight-backed, he walked with broad, kingly steps, emphasizing his honor as a proud defender of Exa-Nui. His neatly polished Kanohi Kora reflected the light from the lantern; his orange eyes, shining beacons of honor and loyalty, cast their own lights in the semi-darkness of the morning. A renowned swordsman on the island, he had become something of a legend for his quick adaptive abilities following his Toa transformation during the war against Exa-Nui’s last major threat, a conqueror known as Xarax.

Today, however, was not a normal day; the entire past week hadn’t been normal in any sense of the word, at least to those who knew the island as well as he did. The jungles of Le-Wahi to the northwest had become restless as of late; Rahi attacks had greatly increased in frequency and severity, a constant threat that had resulted in Turaga Mazen, elder of the lands of fire and air, to order all entrances in and out of the Le- and Ta-Exa to be constantly manned and protected by the respective guard groups on the island. Kra-Wahi to the southwest had also seen a recent rise in activity, as more and more of the creatures that resided within the shadowy region had begun to slink by the gates, waiting for any opportunity to get through. Reportedly, similar problems had arisen in the other four Wahi, forcing the other Toa Exa to increase patrols, and environmental problems – such as freak storms, like the one that had occurred last night, and a number of increasingly strengthening earthquakes – had become a common occurrence.

He wasn’t sure what the cause of these troubles was. He was, however, aware of what he had sworn to do, and he wasn’t about to go off and try to locate the source of these problems; the Matoran needed protection, and with the rapidly dropping number of visitors to the island recently, the weight of that duty was increasing upon his shoulders. Further, he had heard rumors about a group of marauders that had recently arrived on the island, supposedly led by a rogue Toa. If they decided to come to Ta-Exa… he frowned at the thought.

By now he had arrived at the top of the stairs, yawning as he moved to look over the edge, gazing upon the vast, grassy expanse. His thoughts might have been filled up by thoughts and feelings of worry in relation to these issues, but there was no such conflict in the beautiful landscapes of the fire land. It was perhaps a misleading name for the Wahi; unlike most islands that possessed areas dedicated to Matoran and Toa of fire, Exa-Nui’s Ta-Wahi was not an entirely volcanic land; while there were certainly areas to the south of Ta-Exa where a small number of volcanoes lay, the villagers of the fire city had dedicated their lives more to agriculture than lava-farming. The outer edges of the city – including where Torith had passed through to get to this position on the walls – had been transformed into farmland, with far more farms located in various areas outside of the city, growing a number of useful plants.

As a Matoran, Torith had once owned such a farm, though he had been forced to sell it when he had been called on to serve his land in the fight against Xarax. Occasionally, when activity was low and the Matoran were more concerned with their own devices than the problems on defense and politics, the Toa of Fire would find a quiet place to sit and think about the old days, when he, too, had had ample time to simply enjoy himself. It was getting to a point where he was finding himself increasingly busy; rarely now could he relax and let things unfold however they would, without worry of danger rearing its head and bearing its glistening fangs at his village. He sighed. After all these years, he had come to accept the life of a Toa; that didn’t stop him from occasionally wishing for something simpler, however…

He continued staring out upon the fields for several moments, watching as the sunlight slowly increased in intensity, as the fog gradually dispersed. The village’s position on a large, flattened hill gave him a great view of the area; he could see a herd of small, cow-like Rahi grazed in the vast fields below, focusing on the ground as they ate their morning meal; an early-rising farmer, the owner of the Rahi, watched from a fence some distance away from them, basking in the warm light of the sun. After several moments, he straightened up, stretching his arms and yawning again, before turning and continuing along the wall to the next gate, having deemed this one secure for the day. To his left, several stories below, the city was beginning to grow more active as the villagers awoke, beginning their daily routines. If nothing else, he was happy for them; his busy schedule was worth it if it meant that he could provide a safe and quiet life for the Matoran who lived within the village of fire.

The Skakdi grunted as he was slammed against the wall of the large hole he was in, panting as the being that held him let go and allowed him to slide down to the floor. He breathed rapidly, his vision hazy. Above, roars and shouts sounded, egging the combatants on. Struggling to his feet, the Skakdi of Stone concentrated, launching a beam of Darkness Vision at the Ondarian. His opponent stood still, merely sidestepping the blasts before moving forward with surprising speed. The Skakdi had little time to respond as his larger opponent’s rapier shot forward, point aimed at a spot between two of his ribs. Moving to block the blade, he succeeded only in getting his hand impaled before the rapier stabbed into his ribcage, the warm metal sinking into his lung.

He let out a scream of pain as the other being withdrew the blade, stepping back and letting the Skakdi fall back to the ground, bleeding from his new wounds. His perpetual smirk grew wider as he looked at his killer. An Ondarian, he was much like a Toa in appearance, though stood a couple of feet taller. Like them, he wore a mask, though it was not one that the Skakdi was familiar with; given the terms of their battle, he had not seen it in use. What he did know, however, was that the mask, like his opponent’s armor, was silver in color, with soft blue undertones. A cape was draped over his left shoulder, clasped with the insignia of the mercenary group called the Guild of Tyis; beneath the black cape, the sheath for the Ondarian’s rapier could be seen, currently empty as he wiped the bloody blade off with a cloth.

This was the Gentleman, as he was known among the criminal underworld, and he, like the Skakdi, had come to Exa-Nui. For what reason, the dying being did not know, nor did he particularly care at the moment as his eyes and thoughts drifted in and out of focus.

“Good… job,” he panted as a strange sort of numbness began to take hold. The Gentleman stared at him before nodding curtly, pocketing the cloth and replacing his blade into its sheath. “I can’t say… I thought you’d do it…. But you did… You kept your word…”

“Indeed,” the Gentleman answered, ignoring the jeers from the crowd above. “I always keep my word: No abilities on my part, and no painful death for you as a result.” He bowed. “Believe me, you’re contribution to my experience is most appreciated.”

The Skakdi gave a short sort of laugh before he coughed. Eventually, the life in his eyes died; the spectators who had watched the match cheered at the sight, though a few grumbled at the lost bet. The Gentleman turned around, entering the champion’s tunnel as he awaited his next challenger; behind him, a pair of Matoran removed the body from the arena, quickly pulling it out through the challenger’s entrance.

This sport grows boring, The Gentleman thought as he sat down, taking a short sip of the hot peppermint tea that had been prepared for him. It shouldn’t be too long now, however, before he finalizes our deal. This treasure hunt of his should prove interesting, at the very least… If nothing else, it’ll either dispel or prove the stories I’ve heard about this land.

He glanced at the arena as another being entered. This one was much larger than the Skakdi, easily twice as tall (his head, the Gentleman noticed, almost brushed the top of the domed ceiling of the arena) and several feet wider. His large claws dug deeply into the ground as he walked in, glaring at the Gentleman.

The bounty hunter, in turn, sighed deeply, before replacing his tea on the table and standing up. Drawing his rapier once more, he moved into the arena. Toa… Please, hurry. I do not wish to waste my talents on these pathetic warriors anymore… He stared at the crocodilian being, pointing his blade at the creature's chest.

“En garde.”