WARNING: If you haven't played VNOG, this wouldn't make any sense to you.
Chapter 1: SUDDENLY GARAN
I sat on the beach of Voya Nui, as I tried to remember what in Mata Nui's name I am doing here. Running errands for Matoran, hunting down the natural wildlife for the Matoran, stealing equipment for the Matoran... I feel like I am losing the last bit of individuality that I dearly still hold to and slowly becoming a puppet of the Matoran. My morals are blurred, as I have slain thousands of enemies with my bare hands under the command of these Matoran, but none of which were truly hostile to me. But isn't it my destony and duty to protect these poor, powerless figures? How does this universe work if I have to sacrifice thousands of lives just to save a few?
I am insertnamehere, the protagonist of this story (as I am the writer of this story. This makes sense, doesn't it? [Okay, maybe not, as I had just stated that I've slain thousands...]). So, anyway, as with most stories, my adventures started because of a vision that I had... (or rather, simply because I am forced to adventure. For the Matoran. However, the story must go on or I will waste too much words on the exposition of the story, just like what I did here. [and here as well. (Bracket-ception YAY!)] )
"For eons the island of Voya Nui guards an ancient secret." These words were superimposed on to the image of an island in the middle of the cerulean sea.
"Whatever," I thought. "Skip."
And then the vision ended. There were parts that I don't quite remember, but when I woke up, I found myself on the shores of the Island of Voya Nui. I didn't know where I was back then, as I barely regained consciousness at that time.
I saw a black-armoured figure on the beach, so I waved my hands at him, intended to ask for directions. This figure was shorter than me, and his dented armour alongside with his sleek profile showed that he had been undergoing some sort of tragedy.
He greeted me nonchalantly, but I ignored his cold attitude. After all, a guy like him must be the victim of the story, right? Perhaps it was the tragedies that he had been experiencing that made his attitude cold. To survive in nature, beings usually harden both physically and mentally after getting wounded. But I was wrong. Very wrong indeed.
As I said, I tried to ask for directions. But he interjected before I could formulate my enquiries into words and began to question me instead.
"Welcome. I am Garan, one of the last free Matoran of Voya Nui. We've been waiting for you a long time, Toa..." he said in monotonic intonations, "but are you truly a Toa hero? I must ask you questions and learn the truth."
And this was the beginning of this living nightmare... with talking to Garan.
Edited by Podu, Jan 22 2013 - 10:12 AM.
