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[Toa of Dancing]

I must warn everyone before they read this, this story is most definitely going to be PG-13 worthy. Use your own discretion.


Prologue

The mournful cry of the muaka echoed through the mountains. It was answered by another’s wailing. Lightning flashed in the sky above. The sharp crack of thunder, sounding like a brutal thrashing of a whip, came soon after. High, ugly peaks loomed over the small valley in which the large, ragged, torn figure tried to run. The devilish beast behind him roared in a horrid screaming noise.

He staggered and tripped, but he knew he must press on. It was gaining. No, it couldn’t catch him. He must press on. His duty as a toa would not be fulfilled. Then again, it wasn’t likely that would happen anyways. If he didn’t die today, he most likely would tomorrow. But by then, he would have more work finished for the next runner.

The fleshtearer tried to take a chunk out of the toa’s skin, but that was one less wound to be landed on him. The vicious, evil creature cried out and kept chasing him, not having had a meal in a large span of time. This would not be enough to satisfy, but it would be enough for now. If this runner would simply falter in his step, a fresh meal would be in order.

But that meal would have to wait, for a muaka came dashing out of the shadows and pounced on the horrid beast. It was a minor nuisance, but enough to give the runner time. The filling of its stomach would slow the fleshtearer down. It might even deter it from the chase for a while. But the toa kept running, whispering to himself in reverence, “Your sacrifice will be remembered, holy beast of Mata-Nui.”

The last cry of the muaka was cut off as flesh and metal was ripped from its throat. The toa was glad he could not see it. It would have been a terrible, gruesome sight to behold. But he kept running. The rahi’s sacrifice would not be in vain. He ran. The fleshtearer would be behind again. Hoping a checkpoint would come soon, he never saw the sudden drop ahead of him. His echoing screams permeated the entire valley.

Then they were cut off.
The last cry of the Muaka was cut off as flesh and metal was ripped from its throat. The Toa was glad he could not see it. It would have been a terrible, gruesome sight to behold. But he kept running. The Rahi’s sacrifice would not be in vain. He ran. The Fleshtearer would be behind again. Hoping a checkpoint would come soon, he never saw the sudden drop ahead of him. His echoing screams permeated the entire valley.

Then they were cut off.


••••••••••


This is a reboot of Cry of the Broken, which existed before the forums went down. Expect minimal changes for the chapters that were up.

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Edited by Toa of Dancing, Oct 15 2011 - 12:22 PM.

[Toa of Dancing]

Runner #306 - Dead
Chapter 1

Glancing at the rising sun, the fleshtearer folded in its wings and dove down toward the castle. Roughly five bio above a platform, it spread its wings again and circled down. Once it had landed, five steltians of the middle class brought a small amount of meat and then led it back to its pen. A vortixx soldier with large, artificial wings landed on the platform but a moment after. She followed behind the massive rahi until it was contained. Then she continued on.

The hallways of the castle were long, twisted, and confusing. If it weren’t for her memorization of the castle at an early age, the messenger would have easily been lost. However, seeing as she did know the hallways, she was able to enjoy the elaborate paintings and finely sculpted statues. She could take a moment to sniff the beautiful flowers and admire the many different species of flora. She could listen with her eyes closed and walk, taking in all the wonderful sounds.

But the sounds changed. They became brutal and murderous. The cracking of a cruel whip echoed through the hallway. A scream followed, laced with hatred. The beating of an old toa that would not move fast enough created a constant thumping and gasping noise. The jeers of many different species sounded through the halls. It was darker here, for sure.

But the toa deserved it. They were an evil species, causing chaos throughout the world of all the other beings. They killed thousands of all the peaceful species. The people hated them. Now... now they can get payback. The evil sons of a piraka wouldn’t terrorize anyone anymore. Now they were on their knees, at the mercy of society. It was fitting for the ones who had tried so hard to bring everyone else to their knees. She scolded herself for using that language in her head.

But... they almost looked innocent. The man’s pleading eyes implored the young vortixx to help him. But she turned away. This was a toa; a brutal, evil being who deserved no more life than a hoto bug. At least, that was what she had been told. The teachers could not be wrong. They were the smartest of anyone in the universe and had taught her perfectly.

Or had they?! She couldn’t figure it out. The vortixx grabbed her head and kept walking, longing to get back to the former beauty in the halls behind her. Alas, the halls were pretty again, even surpassing the ones before. But it wasn’t the same. It was a masking beauty. The true malicious intent of king and queen was hidden. Even the vortixx knew that. She didn’t want to think about it, though. For they were a great royal family.

A truly evil looking toa burst through a pair of doors with a claymore in her extremely muscular hands and two wrist blades strapped on. She kicked a steltian of the upper class in the gut and brought the massive sword down. Five matoran, each holding a cattle prod, tried to get at her, but each was brutally torn to pieces by this fierce warrior. A steltian of the lowest class came barreling toward her, all arms holding large blades. But every slash, cut, and stab was met with a skillful parry. Then he, too, met his end by the massive sword of the Toa beheading him.

The vortixx carrying the message for the royalty drew her two cutlasses. One of the Shadowed One’s species, a middle-class steltian, and two skakdi came from the room this toa was just in. These four happened to be part of the royal guard, for that room was the throne room. The messenger was frustrated that she had been so close to delivering the message and was now cut off. She sighed and engaged the toa.

Before the vortixx realized it, the toa was facing and targeting her. This toa was far beyond anything she had ever come up against. She was up against five foes and kept them at bay for the most part. Then the steltian was down. A skakdi next, immediately giving the other one far more of a struggle. But the three left were of a high level of skill and were pushing. Finally, the largest of them, the one of The Shadowed One’s species, crushed the claymore with a floor smashing blow from his massive warhammer. But he wasn’t expecting her to knock him out with a powerful jolt of electricity.

The vortixx growled and stabbed the toa in the arm before she could fully turn around. She cried out in pain but was able to finish her spin and make the vortixx stagger from a wrist bladed punch. The slash left a long gash up the messenger’s cheek. But before the toa could finish her off, the skakdi was able to stick a dagger in her other arm. The toa fell to the ground seemingly in pain, but actually did it so she could catch him off guard and sweep out his feet. His neck was then crushed by being slammed between her feet.

“That is enough!” rumbled a deep, booming voice from the throne room. A tall warrior in shining armor stepped out, holding two halberds. The toa scowled at him and got to her feet, despite the numbness trying to take hold of her arms. She growled and painfully pulled a second sword off her back, but had a cutlass prick the back of her neck. She tensed and stood very still, stuck metaphorically between a rock and a hard place.

“I shall never be used for a sport, you sons of a piraka! To karzahni with you all!” the toa yelled. The vortixx slightly flinched at the strong language used against her and the leader of the guard. The upper-class steltian growled and dropped one of his halberds. He grabbed the toa by the neck and lifted her up.

“Guard Nashia, knock her out in your way. Once she’s choked on shadow, she won’t be awake until she is put on the course.”

The vortixx complied, created an orb of shadow around the Toa’s head until she went completely still. Her body went limp in the steltian’s grasp. “Good. You have permission to deliver your message to the king and queen. Meanwhile, I’ll take this Toa to the line and put her at the front.”

Nashia nodded, sheathed her cutlasses, wiped the blood off her cheek, and walked into the royal throne room, bowing as she did so. She then strode forward confidently and pulled the scroll holding her report off her back. When she stopped and bowed again, a skakdi took the scroll and handed it to the makuta sitting on the larger throne. He held a very somber face as he opened it and read.

“This runner, was his body actually seen?” the makuta asked

“Well... no, your highness. But it would be impossible for any being without wings to survive that fall.”

“Very well,” he said with a brightened expression, “Alert the prison guards to ready the next ten runners. This will be a special occasion, the fifth anniversary of this great sport. Almost every soldier in the kingdom will take part in this! Even the queen and I will be a part of this grand event!”

“Yes sir! I shall await tomorrow with joy in my heart!” Nashia answered almost happily, though in her brain she was unsure. She bowed one more time and then walked out, pondering the next day.

[Toa of Dancing]

Through a Prisoner’s Eyes
Chapter 2

I saw a large steltian of the upper class walk arrogantly in. In his large, cold hands he held the limp form of a toa of electricity, matte black being her color. I know her slightly, and I believe her name is Nexa, for we were both in the final hold-out. But I was a medic and knew no one. No one pays attention to me, because I pay little attention to them. I like being secluded. That’s who I am.

The lashes I received earlier burn like karzahni. If it weren’t for the occasional sign that these piraka aren’t barbarians, I’d have far less hope for the future. That vortixx, Nashia I believe, wasn’t evil. So many people misguided... They need to see the light of day...

This being is tyrannical, far beyond hope. General Diru is far too evil. Just looking in his eyes I see a love for the suffering of others. I can’t even stare at him for long. Thankfully he seems to actually have something else on his mind, for he just threw her down in front of me and walked away, only kicking me once in the process.

After secretly rejoicing that I was not beat up again, I kneel down and look at the toa. She has one stab in each shoulder, hundreds or small cuts, a small puncture in the back of her neck, and a few broken bones. I have a plant that will thicken the blood and help it clot, along with a few bandages for the worst, but the guards might become suspicious and check my armor for my materials. I can’t let them take any of it. But I will pocket a bit of the herb in her cheek. She should wake up soon due to it also.

A commotion comes up from behind. I turn to see Nashia walk in, heading straight for the guards. She speaks, and I listen.

“The king has decreed that the next ten prisoners are to be used in the Hunt. Get them prepared for tomorrow morning, provided with whatever they want. Let them be armed to the teeth and provided with medical equipment galore. This is the king’s order.”

I am mildly surprised that we will be provided with whatever we wish... It makes me wonder at the might of what force they shall send after us. Hmm... But I must stock up on my medical supplies. That is, if I am on the list.

Glancing at the list, I see Tullë is, indeed, one name. I hadn’t heard it in a long time, but that is mine. There are also Nexa, Yntre, the Unknown, Nind, and a few others... There are ten in all. I know all these by name, but none personally. I know no one. I don’t mind that either.

“S-sirs... Might I... replenish my stock of medicine?” I ask very slowly, taking various items out of secret notches in my armor. A growl is emanating from one guy’s throat as the other raises an eyebrow.

“I told you someone had been pampering the prisoners. It turns out it was one of them. Actually frisk them next time! Anyways, to you,” he says with a spit at me, “you deserve nothing. Nothing at all! But due to it being the king’s decree, you’ll get your wish. Karzahni deserving sons of a piraka get treated better than we do!”

The other guard, a bit more compassionate, grouchily walks to the door as people bearing weapons, armor, and everything else walk in. He tells them all to put the stuff in different places and then starts leading each one of us ten to the piles.

As he comes over to me I notice Nexa is awaking. She somehow seems to understand the situation immediately, for I see her walk to the first pile, which is armor. I shrug and walk there also, though I personally prefer my current armor. I walk to the next pile, which consists of weapons. I am not a fighter, but I will do so in a pinch. I grab a pair of gauntlets, for they are the same I wore before our captivity began. I flex my fingers in them and open my hand, palm-out. Energy glows in the center, then burst out in a mixture of stone and pure energy.

I smile gravely as I see the target reduced to ashes. Yes, this shall show those piraka that we are not a helpless race. Race... That reminds me of what is to happen. I sigh, shaking my head. But I move on to the next group of items. I see a Hau, which I know was also previously mine. As I touch it I feel energized again. As I put it on, the weakness that had accompanied me for these years in captivity fades away. I feel alive again. I feel I could run for days on end. Then again, I just might have to...

I shake my head move to the second-to-last pile, what I have most been anticipating. The medicines, bandages, small surgical knifes, and syringes are all good quality, at which I am amazed. I pull out anything that I have stocked in my armor, for it is all second-rate. I carefully, respectfully pick up each item and carefully place it in a place. The most fragile items I carefully wrap in soft bandages and put in a small bag. I look one more time through the items, then leave for the last place, most anticipated by most and open to all prisoners.

Instead of a pile, it is a table, piled with food. Though mostly flavorless, everyone treats all of it like the richest, most flavorful morsels they have ever placed in their mouths. Even I eat hungrily and without stop. By now all ten of us chosen Runners are sitting and eating, and also drinking. Most of us are intelligent enough to stop before getting sick, but one or two have a stomach ache. I give them a special herb that soothes pain and then restock on it back at the medicinal pile.

When finished, we are sent to the chambers to sleep. The stone surfaces seem softer, and the air is not quite as stale as usual. I wonder if Nashia had anything to do with this. Letting out one last breath, I remember sleep coming comfortably for the first time in who knows how long.

[Toa of Dancing]

The Day your Life Ends
Chapter 3

In his waking moment, the toa felt rushing air.

Then came cold, hard stone in a sudden, crashing stop.

Za’Ratha lay sprawled on the ground, blood dripping from the new gash in his shoulder. He cursed and looked for the being that dared bring him from sleep in such a violent way. The sight he was met with caused him to rethink the action he was about to take. The large, deadly presence of General Diru filled the room. All the prisoners not awake the Steltian was beating in some similar way.

For some strange reason, as Za’Ratha saw, the titan was even waking - just as roughly, of course - the prisoners not running that day. The toa held one hand over his shoulder as he painfully got up and spat at Diru’s back. Indeed, more than he performed such an action. They would be beaten to wherever anyways, with or without an expelling of saliva or a rude gesture.

All sans the ten Runners were driven to some unknown destination to labor for the day. Za’Ratha was surprised to see that Diru went with them and did not take the ten. He looked as the other nine had mostly wondering expressions on their faces. Tullë was busy with patching up another, named Wynli. Indeed, it seemed she needed it more.

All had fresh wounds in some way from being woken up. Most were just a bunch of scratches and a sore back, but three of them were more severe. Tullë was still fixing up Wynli. Za’Ratha was next, and then a toa named Aringor. The other six were sitting or standing wherever, waiting for something to happen.

“Know what? The door is standing wide open. We can make a break for it,” commented Nexa, who was leaning against a wall with her fingers flipping a dagger.

“Yes, and then get caught and killed. No thanks,” growled Nind, a muscular half-toa. He was also part Steltian of the middle class, making for an interesting sight. His white Pakari was turned to a frown, accenting the muscular curves of his white body.

“He’s right. We have next to no chance of survival,” added Yntre, her silver Rau flashing in the sunlight. The rest of her metallic blue body shimmered as she shifted.

“Don’t be so jolly clever. We have our powers, masks, and weapons back,” retorted the black toa of lightning.

“Three of us are in no condition to be much of a help,” added Wynli, gasping as Tullë pulled a bandage on her thigh tight. Fresh blood peppered her already red body, including her Iden.

Aringor’s wiry, blue and gold body contrasted with the others, showing far less muscle on his frame. His Elda was turned into a frown. Each of the others felt a tingling presence in their mind as they “heard” his voice, “I must agree with Nexa, despite our current state...”

“I-I think w-we need to w-wait...” said a buff toa of the green apprehensively. His weak, unsure voice and the worried eyes in his Calix contrasted with his large, teal body.

An old, yet obviously still athletic toa of earth stepped forward. The grey and black features of his form were hard to make out, even on his Hau. His voice, a hint of wheezing tainting it, replied, “I’m with Eltrin. Despite his lack of confidence, he’s smarter than you all believe.”

“Whatever you guys say... Though I must agree with Eltrin, and by proxy Oroun there. He’s older than most Turaga, and just as wise,” Tullë added as he applied a bandage to Za’Ratha.

Za’Ratha grunted as the other toa pulled the bandage tight, his silver and grey armor clanking as he jerked slightly, and the lens of his Matatu’s eyepiece expanding quickly in pain. “Let’s just get it over with. They wouldn’t leave the freaking door open if they wanted us to do anything else. If it’s a cruel joke, we have our weapons now.”

With nods from those who supported leaving, he walked out. Nexa ran forward, immediately catching up. Tullë quickly patched up Aringor and then followed with a sigh. The toa of psionics left with him. Then the Unknown slowly walked out, his black robes concealing every movement except for the drawing of his rapier. Yntre and Wynli also hesitantly left.

Nind, Eltrin, and Oroun were left in the room. “Well, we have little chance if we are divided. Let’s go,” Oroun commented as he walked out. Eltrin - who was, for all purposes, his pet - quickly followed. Nind rolled his eyes and growled before also following.

Once the eleven had regrouped in the hallway, they began to move forward. Eltrin, Nexa, and Za’Ratha were up front, weapons at the ready. The former held a large battleaxe, the latter held a sword, and the middle had her array of weapons to use. The Unknown stayed near the back, using what seemed to be shadow to cloak himself. The others were scattered in the center.

Strangely enough, when they met a pair of heavily-armed guards at the end of the hallway, they didn’t engage. Instead, the two stepped aside and pointed, then followed the group at about five bio. With a frown from more than one of the toa, they obliged.

Many more pairs of guards were met along the way. Each pair did much the same as the first. By the time they reached a courtyard, about twenty soldiers were trailing the group. All they did was occasionally prod the toa to move faster.

As Nexa stepped forward into the open air, a battalion of soldiers outside lowered their crossbows toward her. She quickly pulled two short swords of her back and held them ready to block, but the arrows were not fired. The guards at the back of the group pushed the rest out and then marched to a large gate. Two of them stayed at the doorway to block escape.

A deep, booming voice resonated across the massive courtyard as two tall, majestic beings rode out on fleshtearers. “People of the United Beings, please welcome King Rhytran, Queen Friltia, and the Royal Army!”

Cheers erupted from the stands surrounding the courtyard. Thousands of beings seemed to be crying out in joy for the bloody event to come. The fleshtearers, both mounted and not, clawed at the ground in anticipation. Their acidic saliva dripped to the ground as they released their screaming roars, adding to the deafening noise.

The voice continued, emanating from a matoran at the royalty’s side, “Today, we celebrate the glorious fifth anniversary of this sport, the Hunt of the Heretics!” The cheers erupted again, forcing him to pause in his speech.

Finally, once they had quieted, he spoke yet again, “And so, today, the Hunt is made eleven times as entertaining! Today, we have eleven Runners, including the Unknown!” More cheers, specifically at the mention of the robed Toa. This raised most of the Runners’ eyebrows as they looked toward him. He stayed silent.

“Yes, the famed Unknown, who somehow manages to appear back in the slave quarters every run, with very few of the Hunters also returning. And so, there is him, Runner thirteen. Let us hope he does not prove able to defeat the army of the United Beings!”

“Then we have Runners 307 through 316, who all appear to be formidable warriors. And then, finally, we have Runner 674. Due to her ridiculous fighting spirit, she has been moved from her position many years from now to this Hunt!”

“Leading each of the seven hunting parties are highly esteemed officers of our army. Leading division one is the great King Rhytran himself, with the Queen Friltia also joining him.”

“Then, leading the second division is the highly esteemed General Diru, veteran of a hundred Hunts and a thousand wars!” The cheers came yet again.

“Leading division three is the powerful General Vryshkahn, known for his brutal strength in battle.” More cheers.

“The fifth division is lead by none other than Lieutenant General Arwex, also known as the Rising Phoenix for his quick ascent through our ranks.” By now the cheers were starting to lessen, but they still greatly permeated the air.

“The leader of division five is the agile Sergeant Nashia, a prime example of a female warrior.” The cheers seemed to carry more of a feminine taint to them.

“Division six is lead by none other than Sergeant Queshra, yet another astounding officer.”

“And finally, the ranged division, division seven, is lead by the supreme sharpshooter Ruten’Hai!”

The toa were led to the gate as it was slowly opened. Some of the fleshtearers jumped forward in anticipation, but were quickly pushed back. The matoran let all whispers die down before concluding with, “And now, three, two, one, go!”

The toa, taking the hint, dashed forward. They didn't sprint, for that would be foolhardy, but they did go at a quick jog. Soon, their feet carried them out of sight and into the forested marshland below. They kept running long and hard.

Finally, after running for almost an hour, the slowest of the group - Aringor, Oroun, Tullë, and Wynli - began to falter, the rest of them slowed also. Many found a sturdy trunk and leaned against it, and any rolled ankles, burrs, and other small, new injuries were lightly inspected by the doctor. No one spoke.

Finally, breaking the silence, Wynli said, "So we stop? We give up already? That's it? What kind of toa are we? Wimps?" The others stayed silent.

"I'm the slowest of the group, and I might slow us down a bit, but we need to keep pressing onward. I'm moving on because I don't want to die." A few groaned, but all got up and followed.

Suddenly, a horn broke the silence, echoing through the swamp. In the distance, the cry of the fleshtearers screamed through the morning air.

And thus, the Hunt was afoot.