Here is my entry for the Lesovikk hiatus contest!
In total the story has 14,338 words in it (although a few of those could be dashes that I missed).
Have fun reading it, and feel free to post any comments or reviews here.
Of Rahi and Toa
Lesovikk rowed across a seemingly endless sea of Liquid Protodermis, rapidly losing his patience. Every stroke of the oars in his small craft made him feel more frustrated. Where can these islands be, he thought, starting to wonder if the information he had gotten was wrong. He tried his best to push these thoughts aside. He needed to check every island, every possibility. There could still be some way to get them back, he thought as he did another stroke of the oars for what felt like the thousandth time. I need to keep going.
After that band of monstrous Zyglak had killed his team around 23 thousand years ago, he had gone back to his home village, stricken with grief. However when he got there he found that his Turaga had gone insane, and all the Matoran who had lived there were gone. All of his friends who he had talked with, explored with, and laughed with, were now gone to… he knew not where. When he asked the now-mad Turaga about their absence, he learned that all the Matoran had been sent to the realm of Karzahni.
It was almost too much for him. First his entire team was killed before his eyes, and now his entire village was gone. But he found the will to continue. Despite his grief he went on, because he needed to rescue his friends.
After his team was killed, he had lost all purpose. He felt that he was not worthy to be a Toa. A real Toa would not have hesitated, he thought, a real Toa would have acted sooner. He still felt that way, but now he had a purpose. He would get his friends back, no matter what it took.
So Lesovikk set off for the realm of Karzahni. On his journey there he traveled far, saw many lands, and encountered many things. He had also set himself one other task while he travelled: to redeem himself. In his mind he felt that he was to blame for his teammates’ deaths as much as the Zyglak. So he helped out whenever he could. Not just because he felt he needed to make up for his failure, but because now there were seven less Toa in the world, and he was trying to make up for that. On his journey he saved countless Matoran, helped a wounded Tahtorak, and drove off a swarm of Kinloka. He also met a Toa of Magnetism, who taught him some very important lessons.
Eventually, after much travel, he came to the land of Karzahni. But he could not get in. Every time he tried he was pushed out, or worse, by the hordes of Manas that guarded the area. After days of failing to get in he decided to go to the lands nearby to get help, or better weapons than just a sword.
The Skakdi of Zakaz had no interest in helping. The Xiaians were more than happy to give him weapons, provided he could pay for them. As a wandering Toa with nothing more than a sword he didn’t have anything of much worth. The island of Selt was not much better.
So he kept wandering, still helping out wherever he could, and trying to find any way of getting past the Manas. The Toa of Magnetism, Jovan was his name, had taught Lesovikk many things, but one of the most important was that knowledge was a sharper weapon than a sword. So at every village he came across he asked about the Manas. Not many beings knew much about them. Only that they were too powerful for a single Toa to defeat.
That was not good enough for Lesovikk. So he kept on searching. He went to every place he heard about, to see if anyone knew anything about them. After a while he learned of two chains of unexplored islands to the south of the southern continent. Barely anyone knew about these islands, and anyone that did had never set foot on them. What if someone on one of those islands, if there was anyone there, knew something about the Manas? The possibility was good enough for him.
The main problem then was getting a boat. Most traders Lesovikk encountered would not give him a boat to make such a journey, fearing that their boat would be lost, and the ones that did asked a very large sum.
Eventually, after he saved a village of Matoran from a group of rampaging Tarakava, their Turaga gave him a boat to use for his journey. It was small; it could barely fit two Matoran, let alone a Toa. This was the boat he sat in now.
Lesovikk cursed and put down the oars. He had been traveling for what felt like days. What I would give for a larger craft, he thought, maybe some sort of sky board or sea sled, or even just a larger boat. He chuckled sadly, yeah, like that’s ever going to happen. His arms ached and he seemed no closer to anywhere.
What I would give for just a simple sail. He hadn’t thought to ask for a sail, thinking that the journey would not have been this long. With one he could command the air to move the boat, but without one his power was useless. Or maybe I could, he thought, a smile coming to his lips for the first time in the day. He put down the oars and concentrated, telling the air over the water to move forward. After a little while his plan worked. The Silver Sea started to ripple as waves ran across it, slowly edging the boat forward. Lesovikk increased the wind speed and soon the boat was moving faster and faster, being pushed by the waves. This is the way to travel, he thought as his boat rushed forward. It wasn’t as efficient as a sail, but it worked.
Then he saw it. Away to his left, creeping into view, was an island. It didn’t look very large, but it was an island nonetheless.
Lesovikk grabbed one of the oars and used it as a rudder, slowly changing the boat’s direction. He shifted the wind as well, pushing his craft on its new course. He was gaining on the island fast, his boat still riding the waves. As he got closer he released his grip on the winds, gently slowing the boat down. Once the boat was close to shore he jumped out and pulled it onto a tan-colored beach.
Up close the island actually looked quite big. Just past the sandy beach was a large row of hills. They were misshapen and looked as if there might be paths running through them. To the right of the hills was a large wooded region, draped in moss. To the left the hills continued and at their end, on top of the largest hill, rose a tall structure made of rock. Less of a mountain, more of a stone obelisk that went up and up and looked like it could touch the sky. It seemed as if it had been there for centuries, which was surprising because it looked like it could fall at any moment.
When Lesovikk took a closer look he saw that there was indeed a path that wound up into the hills. So I am not alone here, he thought. Someone made this path.
As Lesovikk clambered up it he realized that the path was made for Matoran-sized beings, though he could still walk in it with ease. As he reached the top he saw that the row of hills curved around, forming a giant C shape, with the forest at the mouth and the stone pillar across from it. The inside of the hills was quite steep and there seemed to be only a handful of paths down to the center.
But what really caught Lesovikk’s eye was a village in the center of the hills, what looked like a Matoran village. It was small and seemed to have no more than twenty huts. It was surrounded on every side by a ring of walls, with only a few openings.
What caught his attention even more than the village, though, was what was crawling inside it. The village was infested with fearsome spider-like creatures. They had four legs and a pair of large vicious mandibles. There were six types, each which a different color, and they all seemed to have a Rhotuka launcher on their backs.
Lesovikk had seen his share of spider-like Rahi, but he hadn’t seen anything like these before. Though he did not know their name, that three-syllable word would come to be known with fear: Visorak.
There were Matoran in the village as well, but they looked like they were being held captive by the creatures. To Lesovikk, these Rahi seemed to be organized, not just your run-of-the-mill group of beasts. They also seemed restless, unsure of what to do.
Then, as Lesovikk watched, one Ta-Matoran attempted to escape. He ran towards one of the openings in the village wall, but never made it. Three Visorak were on him in a second, and that was the last sight he ever saw. The other Visorak shrieked in response, in a way Lesovikk took to mean encouragement.
That’s it, Lesovikk thought. He would not see a village of Matoran treated this way. He scanned his surroundings, looking for the best spot from which to attack. As he looked around a fight broke out in the Visorak ranks. They must be fighting over who can make the next kill, Lesovikk thought darkly.
Then one of the blue Visorak saw him and launched a Rhotuka spinner in his direction. Lesovikk highly doubted it was a Naming Day gift, and quickly jumped out of the way. It struck a plant nearby on the hills, and turned it to dust. Lesovikk looked at the dust for a moment, then back at the creature. All right, thought Lesovikk as he unlimbered his Air Sword, now it’s my turn.
The battle had begun.
Edited by Pikiru, May 10 2013 - 10:10 AM.