Posted Jan 16 2012 - 08:35 PM
This skiff is fast, it takes us only a couple of days to reach Destral. Kraiton was right, Destral is crawling with Rahkshi and Exo-Toa. I see a reptillian creature dissolve at the end of a blue Rahkshi's staff.
"That's a horrible fate," Kraiton says, "I wouldn't even wish it on a Zyglak."
A memory comes to me, I see two figures in cells next to the one I'm in. One of them is a Matoran wearing a Kanohi Komau, he is a Fe-Matoran. The other is something that looks like a Zyglak but claims that he used to be a Ko-Matoran from the island of Stelt, "We have to go somewhere else," I say distantly.
"I agree," says Kraiton, "but where?"
"An island called Daxia," I say, "I'll show where to go."
"I've never heard of it," he says, "but I trust you, so which way."
It took five days to finally spot Daxia. As we get within range to discern some details, a Ko-Matoran and a crimson armored giant appear onboard, "Turn back," says the giant, "you have no business here."
"Trinuma, don't be so rude," says the Matoran, "My apologies, this is Trinuma, and I am Mazeka, what brings you to our waters?"
Kraiton points at me and Mazeka turns his full attention to me, "Well?"
"I was a Bohrok," I say, "I remembered my life as an Av-Matoran and left my Krana, and the Swarms, behind."
"I see," says Mazeka, "and your business here?"
"I can't remember much, but I rememered being in a cell here, on Daxia. I thought that maybe I could find some answers, or at least, a few friends."
"You were here?" Mazeka looks worriedly to Trinuma, "What friends are you looking for?"
"Two people were confined with me," I say, Mazeka and Trinuma look uncomfortable, "one was a Fe-Matoran and the other was mutated into a Zyglak-like creature."
"They aren't here," says Mazeka, "they're on the island of Nynrah," Trinuma forwns at Mazeka, "and so were you." Trinuma rubs his brow and gives us directions to Nynrah before he and Mazeka depart. I am tiring of this galavanting across the universe.
I explained to Kraiton the things I remembered in the time it took for us to get to Nynrah. When we get to the island I see a few scattered buildings. We land and are met by an Exo-Toa equipped with a Cordak Blaster, a cold, hoarse voice speaks from it, "You are trespassing on the island of Nynrah, populated by the Nynrah Ghosts and watched over by the Order of Mata Nui. State your business."
My mind floods with memories, Takua and a few others, including me, were taken from Karda Nui by the Order of Mata Nui a long time ago. I did not succumb to their wants, so I was returned to Karda Nui, and died shortly thereafter. They called it the Time Slip, I remember, and I also remember a giant with intricate gray-green armor talking to a solemn Toa of Water.
"We seek two beings confined here," I say, "I...we, were directed here by the Order."
"Who are you?" the voice asks.
"I call myself Tavnok, but I can't remember my real name, this is Kraiton."
"What are you?" it asks confused.
"I was a Bohrok, and before that an Av-Matoran. Kraiton is a Matoran Hordika."
"Then the Red Star itself has returned you here," the voice says, "and we shall release your friends."
The door of a nearby building opens to reveal the two beings I saw in my memory, and a Ba-Matoran. It becomes evident to me, that the Ba-Matoran was the one speaking through the Exo-Toa.
"You look different," says the Fe-Matoran.
"I am different," I say, "and I don't remember much of anything."
"At least you remembered us," the reptillian being says.
"Not completely," Kraiton chimes in for me.
"Well , I guess we never exchanged formal inrtoductions, I'm Khyvon," says the Fe-Matoran, "and this is Kolop."
Kolop bows slightly at us, "I call myself Tavnok," I say, "but I'm hoping to remember my name soon enough."
The Ba-Matoran interrupts, "We can give you weapons, and perhaps help you get to your destination."
"Where can we find information on how to get to Karda Nui?"
The Ba-Matoran shuffles his feet, "There are two places I know of," he says, "and I wouldn't suggest either of them."
"Where?" I ask impatiently.
"One is Destral," he says, "and the other belongs to a myth."
"Who?" I growl.
"A being named Tren Krom," says the Matoran.
Tickle Spinners! Sand...And Fire! Hehe, makes glass! "...and that's not incense." Once a MoCist, always a MoCist.