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  1. [An Okoto 579 Story] Tahu looked over his wounded team. Their armor was badly damaged, their bodies bruised, but they continued down the mountain trail, knowing well that they had no time to recover. The Toa had arrived on Okoto only a month ago, on the night of a planetary alignment. Such an alignment occurred every 100,000 years, and would signal the arrival of a spirit sent from beyond time, a powerful being with no memory who would ally with whoever could find them first. Yet this time was different. The Protectors, leaders of the six Regions of Okoto, had gathered at the Temple of Time as the alignment began, and recited a prophecy told to them long ago by the legendary Mask Maker Ekimu. This prophecy, combined with the energy contributed by the Protectors, caused not one, but six spirits to arrive to aid the villagers in these dire times. Separate, they completed the perilous journey to acquire the Golden Elemental Masks forged by Ekimu ages ago. Together, they defeated the Lord of Skull Spiders and stormed the Ancient City, discovering the army of living corpses within and fighting their way through. At the City’s edge, they met with a terrible being from Okoto’s legends: Spiriah the Skull Grinder, a massive, twisted foe with power far greater than they had imagined. Ekimu’s Mask of Creation, one of the strongest masks in existence, had been found by the Lord of Skull Spiders and taken to Spiriah. The Masters challenged the Grinder, hoping to win back the Mask and use it to awaken Ekimu. Unfortunately, they were defeated. “Well…that could have gone a lot better,” Lewa mumbled as they marched down the slope into the Region of Earth. “Quiet,” Pohatu grunted. “Complaining about it won’t change anything.” “It could have gone much worse,” Gali said. “We were able to escape with our lives, meaning we can try again another day. And the next time may go much better, now that we have this.” She turned over the device in her hands: a headband made of gold, with a single blue crystal embedded in it. Kopaka, who held an identical device, said, “We don’t even know if these will work. Spiriah might’ve been lying to us.” Onua set a hand on Kopaka’s shoulder. “You worry too much, brother. Destiny always has a way of working things out, even if it’s not always the way you expected.” “Onua is right,” Tahu said. “If we can’t get the Mask back, then this machine is our only hope of awakening Ekimu. It’s not a matter of if it will work. It has to work.” “And what then, ‘leader’?” Kopaka asked. “Spiriah still holds the Mask. Do you really think adding one more to our number will be enough to take it from him?” “If not, then we’ll add more. Sooner or later we’re bound to defeat…um…” “Spiriah,” Onua said. “Right, him.” “Do you really think we have that much time?” Kopaka asked. “He seemed awfully eager to finish whatever it was he was making. What if he uses it before we make it back?” “Kopaka,” Gali said. “If our time is limited, then we cannot waste it fearing what may or may not occur. Right now we have a plan. After we see whether or not it succeeds, then we can think about what to do next.” Kopaka grumbled but said nothing more. They descended into the sea of gray rock known as the Region of Earth, its surface rising into wave-like cliffs at random across its vast expanse. At first glance it seemed barren and lifeless. Beneath several cliffs, however, glowing purple crystals could be seen, and gathered around these clusters were a multitude of stone huts, both along the ground and up the underside of the cliffs. The Toa advanced towards one such outcropping, and were soon intercepted. She was rather short, even for a villager, and bore black and purple armor. In one hand she carried a small blade, and attached to her chest was a multi-barrel blaster. She wore a mask that covered the top of her face, its top edge curling up into a semi-circle crest with its edges rising about a foot above her eyes. The mask was mainly black, but its upper edge was tinged with purple. Onua stepped forward. “Greetings, Protector Korgot. It is good to see you again.” “And good to see you, great Toa,” the Protector replied. “Tell me: was your journey to the Ancient City successful? Did you retrieve the Mask of Creation?” Onua shook his head. Korgot sighed, “I see…that is unfortunate.” “But we do not return empty-handed!” Tahu said. “Take us to Ekimu, Protector.” Korgot stared at him. “Please forgive him, Protector,” Onua said. “The Master of Fire is simply very excited.” “He wants to try the plan before he forgets it,” Lewa chuckled. Tahu glared at him. Onua said, “Please, Protector: we may not have the Mask, but we believe we have found another way to awaken Ekimu. Will you please take us to the Crypt of the Mask Maker?” “…Very well,” Korgot said. “Please, follow me.” *** In the southwest corner of the Region of Earth lay a large plateau, its eroded surface rising just above the nearby crags to look out over the ocean. The mountainous border to the Region of Fire was its sole companion, deathly silent save for the intermittent hissing of steam erupting from underground pockets of lava on the other side, almost as if offering a subtle reminder that it was not completely alone. At the center of the plateau were five stone spikes that hid in their shadow a stairwell leading below the surface. About fifty steps down was an iron door with a white orb in place of a handle; Korgot placed her hand on it and took a deep breath, focusing the Elemental power from her mask through her palm and into the door. Locks could be heard sliding open, and then Korgot pushed. She handed a torch to Tahu, waited for him to light it, and then advanced. A short hall with a tiled floor lay beyond. Four pillars extended down either side, and between the farthest two was a sarcophagus whose lid was layered in gold decorations: glyphs, shapes resembling armor and hands, and an image of the Mask of Creation. “This is where Ekimu has rested since he fell,” Korgot said. “This was the Region he was born in, you know. We are also just a short walk from his forge along the border.” “In case he wants to get right back to work?” Lewa asked. Korgot smiled. “It is easier to guard two locations that are close together, Master of Jungle. Of course, there is certainly no harm in giving the Mask Maker a short walk home.” She and the Toa gathered around the sarcophagus, and Onua gently slid away its cover. Inside was Ekimu, motionless on his back with his hands on his chest, clutching the handle of a large, blue-headed hammer. He wore a mask in the same shape as Korgot’s, but gold with a blue edge, and, curiously, secured to his head by means of a leather strap. Gali gently removed the mask. “It’s not a Mask of Power?” “This mask was worn by Ekimu’s father, long before the Masks of Power had been conceived of,” Korgot explained. “We hoped it may bring him some comfort. An unending sleep is cruel enough, but to have unending nightmares…” Gali nodded and leaned back over the Mask Maker. She placed the headband on him and nodded to Kopaka, who removed his Golden Mask of Ice and donned the headband he held. They waited for a time. “Shouldn’t it be doing something?” Tahu asked. “How should I know?” Kopaka returned. “He didn’t exactly read the manual for us.” “Let me see it.” “No! You’ll just break it!” Tahu reached for the band. Kopaka held him back, trying to push away the Master of Fire’s flailing arms. As one of Tahu’s fingers brushed the gem, it lit up instantly, as did the gem on Ekimu’s band. Kopaka stumbled back, his eyes going blank. The others moved away, watching in awe as Kopaka leaned forward suddenly and desperately struggled for balance. He felt his mind expanding beyond himself and then being thrown completely at one single point, wrapping around a foreign presence and instinctively pulling it from the fog that engulfed it. Steeling himself, he focused on the other presence and felt them both lifting higher, cutting through the fog as they ascended and eventually burst through its surface. The feeling ceased abruptly. Kopaka gasped for air, putting a hand to his head and muttering, “I guess that’s how it works…” A groan drew their attention. There was a shuffling in the sarcophagus, and then, slowly, Ekimu sat up. He set aside his hammer and rubbed his eyes, and then regarded Korgot and the Toa with confusion. His voice raspy with disuse, he asked, “Protector…?” Grinning, Korgot said, “Good morning, Mask Maker. How are you feeling?” Ekimu grabbed the edges of the sarcophagus and pulled, getting onto his feet. “No need to worry, Protector—I have had more than my fair share of rest.” He removed the headband and looked to Kopaka. “Thank you…Kopaka? Is that your name?” “Um…yes, it is,” Kopaka replied. Ekimu stepped onto the floor, collecting his mask and hammer. “I have been aware of some of your trials, through the link I have to your Golden Masks. You Toa are truly brave, and I owe you all a great debt of gratitude. There are still many gaps in my knowledge, however…tell me: you were brought here by the prophecy, yes? You have indeed claimed the masks, but the prophecy also says you will find the Mask Maker. Have you made any progress that I’m not aware of?” Silence filled the chamber. “We just woke you up,” Pohatu said. “What more do you want?” Ekimu blinked. “…You…thought it meant me?” “You are the Mask Maker, aren’t you?” Gali said. “Well, yes, but I was not lost. When I realized it was time to pass on the prophecy, I thought I had finally understood its meaning…I thought it meant you were to find my brother.” Onua frowned. “Makuta?” “Why would we want to find him?” Lewa said. “He’s the one responsible for this whole mess, isn’t h—“ The words caught in Lewa’s throat. Ekimu’s eyes locked onto him with a glare more intense than Lewa had ever seen; the link between his mask and Ekimu could be felt once again, transmitting a very powerful, very clear feeling of anger. Turning now to Korgot, Ekimu asked, “What have the Protectors been telling people about my brother?” “With respect, Mask Maker, you must calm down. I have done my best to preserve Makuta’s legacy, but…it has not been easy. None but you know of the true circumstances that left you in that crater. Makuta also disappeared, and prior to that he had been seen on his way to the Region of Stone holding a very strange mask. As his reputation had already been in question…” Ekimu gripped his hammer tightly. Putting his mask back on, he said, “Let us leave this place. I need some fresh air.” The Mask Maker led the way as the party made their way back to the surface. When they got there, he surveyed the land, and then looked in the direction of his forge. “Mask Maker,” Tahu said, “we don’t have much time. Surely you must know that your mask is—“ “I know. But first, you all must know the truth. “When my brother appeared before me in the Region of Stone, I knew at once something was not right. The things he said to me…the haunting way he spoke…he was not himself. He only became stranger when he put it on: the Mask of Ultimate Power.” Korgot gasped. “So the rumors were true? Makuta made such a mask?” “…He did. It transformed him, and he turned its power against me…the power of all six Elements.” “What?” Tahu asked. “How could one mask contain all that power?” “No mask was ever supposed to,” Ekimu said. “Makuta knew this. He would never break that law.” “Sounds like he did,” Pohatu said. Ekimu whirled. “No! My brother was being controlled. The Mask was speaking through him, saying that it had manipulated him in order to ensure that it would be forged. My brother is as much a victim as anyone.” The Toa exchanged glances. Onua quietly said, “Mask Maker, if I may…” Ekimu turned around. “You don’t believe me.” “You speak of things we do not know to be possible. That may not mean they are not, but…a living Mask, one that can manipulate someone into forging it before it even exists…please understand, these things are difficult to take in.” Ekimu nodded. “…I know. If I had not been there fighting him, I probably wouldn’t believe it either. I still don’t know exactly what happened, but that is what the Mask said. We have to find my brother—he is the only one who can tell us how this all came to be! Protector, you haven’t heard of the Mask of Ultimate Power’s whereabouts, have you?” “Unfortunately, no,” Korgot answered. “To be quite honest, I thought it was a myth made to further slander Makuta.” “If a Mask like that exists, there’s no telling what sort of trouble it could cause,” Kopaka said. “Whether Makuta’s innocent or not, he’s our best bet of finding it.” “Makuta is innocent!” Ekimu asserted. “When we find him, he can tell you himself!” “Mask Maker, forgive us, but we have more pressing concerns,” Gali said. “You must know that Spiriah has the Mask of Creation.” “…Yes,” Ekimu said. “You are right. We will need to stop Spiriah first…my impressions of your encounter with him are quite vague—please explain it in detail.” “Of course,” Onua said. “When we reached his forge, he showed us the Mask of Creation, telling us that we were already too late to stop him. We asked what he wanted with the mask. He went on to tell us that he was a great inventor in his time, and showed us several of the devices he had on display. One of them was something he had made to save one of his generals who had fallen into a coma—“ “So I was sure to swipe it from under his nose,” Lewa interrupted. “I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a back-up in case the Mask of Creation wasn’t enough to wake you.” “He was using the Mask of Creation to work on something,” Pohatu said. “He wouldn’t tell us what, but even without being finished, it looked awfully mean.” “We fought him, we lost, we decided to retreat,” Kopaka said. “It wasn’t easy getting out of the City, but Spiriah didn’t seem too interested in trying to stop us. He was preoccupied with that invention.” “I see,” Ekimu said. “Well, with the Mask of Creation he could probably make nearly anything. I’ve heard the legends of the Skull Grinder: they say he was a cruel warrior who wanted nothing but the destruction of the villagers. If those legends are true, then most likely, he’s creating some sort of weapon. What I don’t understand is, if he’s been alive all this time, why hasn’t he and his army tried to destroy us all before now?” “Whatever the reason, he’s trying now,” Tahu said. “Mask Maker, will you help us defeat him? With you at our side, we may be able to win this time.” Ekimu hefted his hammer. “No need to ask, Master of Fire. Once I have seen the state of my forge, I will attack the gates of the Ancient City. The Mask of Creation does not belong to Spiriah. It is time for me to take it back.” *** CLANG! Ekimu beat his hammer against the door. He could hear laughter from behind it. CLANG! Re-entering the Ancient City had been easy at first. As Ekimu and the Toa reached Spiriah’s forge, however, they found his entire army amassed in the courtyard. A fierce battle had broken out at once, but Ekimu had slipped through and made his way inside the anvil-shaped building. The Toa will be fine. This is my fight. With one final swing he broke down the door, stepping into a circular chamber with a depressed center. At its far side was an open wall that gave a view of the entire City, and along one wall was a row of pedestals with various devices on display—one of which was empty. On the edge of the depression was a massive gold-plated cannon, aimed at the mountains in the distance, and just a few paces away was a large orb just the right size to fit in its barrel. The orb was also made primarily of gold, with sickly green crystals forming sharp ridges that striped its surface and a circle of black metal at one end where the crystal strips met. And standing next to the window was the Skull Grinder, a towering skeleton with rusty red armor and half-rotted muscles bulging beneath it. In one hand was a sword, and in the other, a wicked three-pronged staff; he stood with his back to Ekimu, looking down at the courtyard below and watching the Toa’s struggle with his army unfold. “These Toa are simply fascinating,” Spiriah said. Ekimu wondered if he was just speaking to himself. “The style of their armor, it makes them fit in with those wretched lowlanders, and yet they hold such power. Power like that cannot be found in the villages. In truth, I am glad they escaped my wrath…and that now, they will be able to see it rain down upon the lowlands until there is nothing left.” Spiriah turned around. From behind the Mask of Creation, his blazing orange eyes surveyed Ekimu with undisguised contempt. “But what of you, I wonder? Shall you be the first lowlander I kill, or shall you be last, so that you can watch all the rest die first? Or…perhaps I shall leave you alive. The last of the villagers, yes, that possibility could be worth exploring. The centuries will not feel as long if I have a pet.” Ekimu walked forward, keeping raised the bladed shield he had brought. “I have long heard stories of your hatred for the villagers, Skull Grinder. But your name has become only a legend—a dark tale used to frighten children. None who can hold a weapon hold any fear of you.” Spiriah stared for a moment. Then he laughed. “Wuhahahahahaha! That’s right, I had forgotten! Lowlanders and their stories—how quaint. So, that has been my legacy in these millennia of torment.” He took a step forward. “You cannot fathom how long I have waited for this. You lowlanders never deserved to exist in this world—Okoto rightfully belongs to my people, and we were close…so close, to wiping you away forever and taking our birthright.” He stopped, looking up for a moment. “I tried to find a way for our people to prosper for all eternity. I…was wrong. And now…” The courtyard below rang out with the clash of weapons. A white-armored archer opened fire on the Toa, providing cover for a four-armed warrior who narrowly escaped Onua’s hammer. A massive purple being charged in with twin axes, knocking three of the Toa flat. “…Now, my people are cursed with the burden of my mistake. They are dead, yet they stagger on through life, barren of souls and reason. I alone have had to watch this for thousands of years, unable to leave this place for even a moment.” Glaring at Ekimu once more, Spiriah continued, “If my people are to be banished from Okoto, then I shall ensure that yours are as well. The rest of my eternity will be one of peace once I know that at least our ancient dream of your erasure has been fulfilled.” Ekimu examined the cannonball. “And you’ll destroy us with this?” “Is it not poetic? The end of the villagers…” He gestured to the mask. “…brought about by one of their very own creations. Were you its wearer, perhaps? Its maker?” Ekimu looked up into Spiriah’s eyes. “I am the one meant to wear it, yes. But it was made by my brother. That is why I cannot—why I will never allow one such as you to wear it!” Spiriah inclined his head. “Your brother, you say? Hm…it has been some time since I have seen the bonds of family…” Ekimu raised his hammer. “Then allow me to show you what you have lost.” Ekimu ran forward. Spiriah’s staff swung out, so he raised his shield to block it. The force pushed him off course, but he stayed on his feet and pressed on. He swung his hammer upward, colliding with Spiriah’s sword, and then leapt away as the Grinder attempted to kick him back. Ekimu leapt and swung at Spiriah’s head, trying to knock the mask off of him, but Spiriah leaned out of the way, swung his long arm around, and used his staff to send Ekimu flying across the room. He rolled when he landed, coming up on his feet. I should’ve known this wouldn’t be easy. I shouldn’t waste any time. Ekimu reached out with his mind. He sensed the mystical energy in the air around him, coaxing some of it into his body and feeling a rush of strength. His armor faintly glowed with white light as he charged again. Spiriah’s eyes widened. Using his enhanced strength, Ekimu was able to knock Spiriah over with a solid blow to his chest. Bringing the weapon back up, he made another swing, but Spiriah let go of his sword and caught the hammer’s head in his hand. “…You…dare to use our art…?” Spiriah’s body began to glow as well. Getting back to his feet, he pushed on Ekimu’s hammer, sliding the Mask Maker back across the stone floor. “The knowledge of the mystic…that is a power known only to my City…!” A new look had filled his eyes, one somehow even more hateful. Ekimu’s body froze for just a moment, as if something primal within him had recognized an otherworldly danger, and in one instant his soul cried out in terror. “How is it possible for some filthy lowlander to possess our power?!” Charging his staff with energy, Spiriah batted Ekimu into the wall. He slowly walked towards his downed foe, electrical energy bursting from his piercing eyes, his breathing heavy, so loud it was almost a yell. Getting to his hands and knees, Ekimu said, “I don’t know what you mean. This art has been passed down through my family for generations. It is a technique that can only be performed by our bloodline, originating eons ago in the Region of Water.” “Your bloodline?” Spiriah kicked Ekimu, sending him crashing into the wall again. “Impossible. That would mean that one of my people mated with a lowlander. None of them would be so…” His head turned. “…No…he may have been acting strange in those final days, but he would never…” Spinning around, Spiriah stalked back towards the open window. “How dare you…Orkahm!” Ekimu quickly grabbed his weapons and drew in energy. He ran and jumped, hitting Spiriah square in the back with his shield and sending him plummeting over the edge. The Grinder hit the ground hard, crushing several of his own soldiers and cracking the street open, his body providing just enough protection that Ekimu was unharmed in the impact. The Mask Maker jumped away to avoid counterattack, and looked about to see how the Toa were doing. “I thought we were going to fight him together,” Gali said, repelling a squad of enemies with a water jet. “I’m willing to reconsider,” Ekimu said. Spiriah was back on his feet. Lifting the four-armed warrior by the neck, he said, “It was you, wasn’t it? You are the reason the lowlanders have stolen our art!” He threw the warrior into Lewa, stunning them both. Raising his staff high, Spiriah called, “Skull Scorpion! I command you to purge this filth from my City!” A scuttling sound filled the air. A large, clawed tail began to rise from behind a nearby building, followed by a skeletal, six-legged body. The Scorpion leapt from his perch and landed in front of Kopaka, lashing out with his tail. Kopaka was able to throw up a Frost Sphere, holding the creature at bay, and Pohatu battered him with his Stormerangs while he was reeling. Spinning around, the Scorpion made for Pohatu now. Kopaka froze his feet in place before he could reach his target, allowing Pohatu to safely kick him in the face. “We’ve got this one,” Pohatu said. “Just give us some cover!” The purple warrior was running at Pohatu now. Onua rammed them aside with his shoulder and then swung his free hand, using the power of his mask to raise a wall of earth, protecting the Masters of Stone and Ice. The archer aimed at him, but Lewa, who had cut his way out from beneath the four-armed warrior, flew through the air and knocked the bow from their hands. “Thanks for giving us the easy job,” the Master of Jungle sighed. Spiriah charged his staff and brought it down towards Ekimu. The Mask Maker sidestepped and tried to counter, but the energy shifted to Spiriah’s fist in an instant, and Ekimu was repelled by a powerful punch. Spiriah advanced. Tahu leapt and executed his Flame Spin, making Spiriah move back and parry; one of his Fire Blades was knocked aside in the clash, but he quickly replaced it with one of his Golden Swords, protecting himself from Spiriah’s counter. Ekimu was back, body gleaming, and swung his hammer into Spiriah’s gut, launching him a short distance away. The two warriors turned to face a wall of troops, but Gali somersaulted in front of them, slamming down her trident and calling up a tidal wave to wash the foes away. “Leave everything else to us!” she ordered. “Just focus on Spiriah!” Ekimu nodded. Spiriah stood back up and roared, thrusting his staff forward. It glowed briefly and then emitted a burst of light; Ekimu was able to catch it on his shield, letting Tahu throw his remaining Fire Blade to knock the staff from Spiriah’s hand. Raising his now empty hand, Tahu shot a flamethrower at Spiriah, but the Grinder just took in more energy and walked forward, seemingly oblivious to the pain. Taking in energy as well, Ekimu watched Spiriah closely, and when he moved to strike, Ekimu’s hammer met with his fist, unleashing a shockwave that knocked over Spiriah’s army and the Toa. The Mask Maker quickly slashed his shield across Spiriah’s midsection, leaving a gash in his exposed bones. Spiriah grabbed him and hoisted him into the air. “Even empowered by our art, you are still but a villager! Your people are weak—inferior to my kind in every way! You will never have the power to stop me from cleansing this island of your infestation!” A fireball struck him. Tahu was sprinting forward with both Golden Swords, throwing more flame attacks as he came. Spiriah retaliated with a volley of energy blasts. Moving ever forward, Tahu nimbly avoided each one, closing the distance and using two rising slashes to damage Spiriah’s shoulders, making him drop Ekimu in the process. Ekimu started to glow as he hit the ground, and then he immediately sprang forward, delivering another hammer blow to his enemy’s chest. Spiriah was stunned, but Ekimu knew he would not remain so for long. Raising his hammer, he said, “Tahu!” He pulled in more energy as Tahu bathed his hammer in flame. Just as Spiriah was beginning to regain his senses, Ekimu ran forward and swung. Spiriah focused as much energy as he could into his palms, catching the burning hammer with his bare hands and producing another shockwave. “No!” he yelled as he grappled with the weapon, slowly being forced back across the square. “I refuse to bend to you! Never again shall my will be denied!” He started to push back. Just as Ekimu began to slide, a Stormerang struck Spiriah, and he was the one giving way once again. He recovered quickly, but then Lewa flew past him, delivering a cut with his swords. Gali and Kopaka added their own dashing attacks, debilitating Spiriah further. Still the Grinder persisted, even as the ground beneath him splintered from the power of Onua’s Earthquake Hammer. “No…I shall not fall!" Tahu leapt over Ekimu’s head and grabbed the Mask of Creation from Spiriah’s face, prying it off as he soared past the titan. The Master of Fire landed expertly and ran, meanwhile behind him, Spiriah finally faltered. With a grin, Ekimu said, “Then I’ll crush you where you stand!” Focusing all his energy, Ekimu drove the flaming hammer into Spiriah, hearing something inside his armor crunch just before Spiriah’s screams drowned it out. Bits of metal and bone exploded out from the impact, leaving a trail along the ground as Spiriah flew towards the stone stairs leading towards his forge, ultimately carving a trench in their surface as smoke poured from his broken body. Fatigue consumed Ekimu as the energy flushed out of him. He staggered, but Onua steadied him. The army, even the Skull Scorpion, had ceased fighting and now simply stared at their defeated leader. Soon the Toa regrouped, and Tahu held out the Mask of Creation. “I figured you’d probably want this out of the way,” he said. “Thank you,” Ekimu said, taking the mask gently. “I am even further in your debt, Toa. You have done something magnificent for me on this day.” He removed the one he wore and placed the legendary mask on his face, feeling relieved by the familiar bond. After a moment, Kopaka said, “Well, since we’ve gotten the mask, maybe we’d better get out of here before Spiriah wakes up.” Ekimu said nothing. Kneeling down next to him, Onua asked, “Mask Maker? Are you alright?” He turned as if snapping out of a trance. “Hm? Oh, I apologize.” Turning his gaze towards the anvil-shaped building, he said, “Actually, there is one thing we must take care of before we can leave…” *** Onua rolled the gold and crystal cannonball into the chamber, letting it rest next to the cannon itself. As he walked back out of the Crypt of the Mask Maker, Korgot resealed it, and then they both made their way up the staircase. “We must not tell anyone,” the Protector said. “If the wrong people learned of the existence of such a terrible weapon, they might stop at nothing to obtain it.” “I have faith that you will keep it safe, Protector,” Onua said. “The others will surely make the same decision when the Toa tell them. Of course, we could have made sure if they had stayed to help us seal it…” They emerged from underground to see Ekimu making his way across the plateau. He still wore the Mask of Creation and his hammer was slung across his back, but he had abandoned his shield and was now carrying a large sack. “Spiriah’s weapon has been sealed away, Mask Maker,” Onua said. “Good. Now I can be off.” Korgot’s eyebrows came together. “You are leaving? The people had hoped that, with your return, the time of the Mask Makers may begin again.” “That cannot truly come to pass until my brother has been found, Protector. Rest assured I shall do all within my power to bring this about.” Offering the sack to Onua, he said, “I wish for you to have these, Master of Earth. This mask and armor are among the finest I have ever crafted, and it would honor me to see you use them.” Onua took the gift. “Then I shall use them proudly. If I may ask, Mask Maker, how do you plan to find your brother?” “I was able to show you and the others visions through the Golden Elemental Masks I made. My brother can do the same, and I was hoping to receive such a vision when I retrieved the Mask of Creation.” “Did you?” “…Unfortunately, I have not. Makuta must be very weak if he is unable to reach out to me. But, no matter how weak he has grown, if I can get close enough he should be able to send me a message.” Korgot nodded. “Then you leave to explore all of Okoto.” “If I must.” “The people will miss you.” “They will see me. I have every intention of replacing the masks that have been stolen, and giving new masks and armor to the other Toa as well. But my primary concern is to find Makuta and bring him home—only then can his name be cleared, and then things can finally return to the way they should be.” “With respect, Mask Maker…for all the power you hold, it is not you who decides the order of the world. You must not be surprised if the world seems to conspire against you.” “It can conspire all it likes. I will see my brother restored, no matter whose plans I have to defy.” Korgot smiled a bit behind her mask. “Hm…well, I don’t suppose I can stop you. Just remember my words, and do take care. The wilds have grown far more dangerous in your absence.” Ekimu bowed. “I thank you for your concern, Protector. Makuta and I will return before long.” *After bowing to Onua, Ekimu turned and was on his way. Korgot watched him a moment, and then nodded to Onua, leading him back towards the village. *** The Temple of Time lay empty, its dark interior still save for the pendulum that swung through its center. It continued its rhythmic ticking, back and forth, back and forth, never ceasing, content to carry out its task in silence. But the silence did not last. On the platform above the pendulum was a pool of blue light, and from this pool, a wisp of black flame suddenly sprung forth. It hissed and flickered, fighting to keep its form together, before eventually growing in intensity, stretching itself into a small pillar about four feet tall. From the flame there came a voice. “The Mask Makers must not be permitted to meet. I will not allow it.” Another voice responded. “Your will is no longer a concern. The Mask Makers shall be reunited, and Makuta shall fulfill the destiny I have made for him.” “Heheheh…no…I have made a new destiny for Makuta to fulfill.” The pool began to shine more brightly. The flame flickered once again, and two eyes appeared from within it. “And my loyal followers will see that he does.”
  2. [An Okoto 579 Story] Ekimu trudged up the snowy slopes, pulling tightly on his brown cloak as he fought against the blizzard winds. He knew he should find shelter, but he wanted to continue on—the garment Nilkuu had given him would provide enough protection, he thought surely. There would be time to rest once he had made it to the village. The Mask Maker stopped when he reached the peak of the small mountain. The cold was almost unbearable, but he did his best to ignore it as he closed his eyes and stood perfectly still. His mind emptied, each and every thought blowing away on the wind until he reached a point of total serenity. He remained that way for several minutes, hoping something would disturb that peace. Nothing did. He sighed. Where are you, brother? Ekimu descended. When he had almost reached the bottom, he slipped. His first instinct was to wrap his hands around the Mask of Creation, doing his best to make sure it was not lost or damaged as he tumbled a few dozen feet downhill and landed in a heap of snow. He sat up and removed the mask, examining it thoroughly. As he put it back on, he saw something emerging from the blizzard, a villager-sized figure that nearly blended in thanks to their white armor and cloak. Ekimu quickly found his hammer and drew it back. “Who goes there?” The figure put their hands up. “H-Hey, easy! I don’t want to hurt you or anything!” Ekimu slowly lowered his weapon. The villager edged closer, tentatively holding out one hand. “Call me Max. I’m a blacksmith from the Village of Ice.” They shook hands. Max squinted, and then he jumped back. “Woah! Ekimu?! What are you doing out here?” “I am on a quest to locate my brother. I have scoured the Regions of Earth and Stone, and now I have come to search these frozen lands as well.” “You don’t say? But, this blizzard’s about to get a lot worse. Even a guy like you has got to have limits, right? Come on—I’ll take you back to the village.” Ekimu looked back at the mountains. After thinking for a moment, he turned back to Max and nodded. “Very well. Thank you, Max.” *** Ekimu reached out towards the fireplace, letting the warmth seep in through his palms. Max lived in a large hut near the edge of the village that doubled as his shop. The space inside was filled with more crates and shelves than furniture, but Ekimu did not mind—a place like this felt more familiar to him. An armored canine creature trotted up and nudged Ekimu’s leg. He gently patted it on the head. When Max came back in, the pet immediately rushed to his side. “Sorry, I don’t have a great variety of things I can offer you,” Max apologized as he sat down on a crate. “I always spend so much on materials that my remaining budget for food gets the short end of the stick.” “That’s quite alright.” “So, you’re looking for Makuta?” “Yes. Though, I have been making a few masks on my travels. I also hope to reward the Toa for their efforts—I’ve already given Onua and Pohatu new masks and armor, and I hope to do the same for Kopaka while I am here.” “Neat! I can’t wait to see what he looks like. If you’d like, feel happy to use my forge.” “I may, thank you.” Max leaned forward a bit and looked at the fire. “Any news on Makuta, though?” Ekimu shook his head. “I hope that, when I near his location, he will be able to send me a vision through the Mask of Creation. It would seem that I am still too far away.” After a moment, Ekimu asked, “If I may…what is your view of Makuta?” “My view? Oh, people have been saying a lot of bad stuff about him for a while.” Ekimu tensed. “I don’t put a lot of stock in their rumors, though. Makuta was a great Mask Maker! He visited the Village of Ice when I was a kid and handed out a bunch of masks, really cool looking ones. Actually, he’s kind of the reason I wanted to become a blacksmith.” As he spoke, Ekimu’s smile gradually widened. “…Thank you. It makes me glad to know there are still others who believe in him.” Max started to speak, but hesitated. “Hey, um…related to that, can I ask you something? There’s this one really persistent rumor, one about a Mask of Ultimate Power?” Ekimu frowned. “The answer to that is…long, and I do not yet have it in full. The Mask exists, yes, but Makuta is not at fault for its creation.” Max nodded. “Okay, fair enough. I was pretty surprised when I heard it. I knew there was a law about never putting more than one Element in the same mask...never really got why, though.” “Binding the power of an Element to a mask is a very delicate process. Trying to put in multiple Elements will compromise the mask’s structure, and even if one being had the mental energy to control more than one Element at a time, even a mask with only two of the Elements would inevitably degenerate and break apart.” “Oh. Good to know.” Ekimu glared into the flames. “That Mask should have splintered into scrap metal the instant it touched Makuta’s face. Perhaps there was something else, some other force within the Mask that was responsible for keeping it together…” Max watched him mutter to himself for a minute, then got to his feet and stretched. “Hey, if you don’t mind, I want to go check up on one of my neighbors. His roof had some damage last week and I want to be sure it didn’t open up again during this storm.” Ekimu’s head snapped up. “Oh, yes, of course.” “Thanks, I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home!” Max stooped to pet his dog and then donned his cloak and stepped out. The fire flickered a bit as the door was opened, but once it was shut again it regained its balance. The dog curled up in front of it, while Ekimu went back to staring for a while before sighing, standing, and looking around. The racks lining the walls were filled with all manner of weapons. Swords, axes, spears, hammers, even a few boomerangs were on display, gleaming in the firelight, eager to be bought. Various shields were hung above the racks, some with emblems engraved upon them and some left bare. In one corner stood an entire suit of armor—a fairly simple design, but it looked quite durable. Even at a glance Ekimu could recognize the craftsmanship of the work. He seems quite the accomplished smith. His survey revealed a door that had been left ajar, leading to a half-lit staircase. Taken by curiosity, Ekimu decided to investigate, and he made his way down the steps. Like the room above, the basement, lit by glowing white crystals, was fairly spacious but a bit cluttered. Numerous anvils were strewn around a fire pit, most of them covered with cloth. What drew Ekimu’s attention more was the gleaming silver armor at the far end of the room, made with pointed shoulders so that it eerily resembled his own. He turned. One wall was covered in masks with designs he had never seen before. He slowly approached and took one, a round mask with a curved surface, oval eyes, and a few small ridges at its peak. …This…is most unusual… Ekimu replaced the mask and continued to scan the wall. As he walked down its length he nearly tripped on something—he picked it up, discovering it to be a large, one-sided hammer, with a long blue bar jutting out from the side opposite the head. His gaze drifted over the floor. A few crates were littered about behind the anvils, containing vines, purple crystals, icicles, and other elemental items. Impossible. He soon heard footsteps. Max rushed into the room with a panicked expression, stopping short and staring at Ekimu. “Ah…haha, well, this is, um, you see, it’s just, ah…” After fumbling a bit, he simply shrugged. “I can explain?” Ekimu set the hammer down. “Yes. Please do.” Max sighed. “Man, you’re killing me. I had this whole reveal planned out, and…well, okay, I don’t have much choice now do I? It’s exactly what it looks like. I’m a Mask Maker too.” Ekimu blinked. “But…how? Masks of Power can only be made using my family’s mystic art.” Looking around quickly, Max picked up a shield. He made a fist and stood still for a moment. Soon, his fist began to glow with white energy, and then he punched the shield, driving his fist right through it. “It’s not an ideal reunion, but…” He struggled to remove the shield from his arm. After he worked in vain for a while, Ekimu stepped forward and helped him. “Thanks. Anyway—“ “You and I are related? How?” “I was told that three or four generations back, there was a feud between two siblings in the family and one ended up moving to the Region of Ice. We always kind of figured that our branch of the family tree was swept under the rug.” Ekimu looked back up at the masks. “This is quite a shock…” Max slipped past him and walked over to the suit of armor. Ekimu added, “How is it that I have not heard of you before?” “I haven’t gone public yet. Only a few of my friends know about this right now.” “Why? If there had been another Mask Maker after I and my brother had vanished, Okoto might have still prospered.” “Hey, it’s not like you two left a manual. I had to work the whole thing out on my own, and it sure took a while. By the time I perfected the process, you were already up, and I figured I should wait a bit so I didn’t steal your thunder.” He drew out a small box as he continued, “I’m sort of glad, though. The wait gave me time to better my work on Elemental Masks, and best of all…I finally figured it out.” Inside the box, resting on a velvet cushion, was another unfamiliar mask—this one made of solid gold. The face was large and nearly hexagonal, with two triangular holes on either side and an indentation over the mouth. Two long grooves fell from the rectangular eyeholes, and from its angled brow rose two protrusions, each one rounding outward, coming together, and nearly joining before shooting straight up. Max carefully lifted it. “The Mask of Focus. A mask with an entirely unique power—every Mask Maker needs one, right?” Ekimu took the mask and looked it over. “I couldn’t get my hands on a whole lot of gold, though, so my armor doesn’t quite look the part. You and Makuta probably had to let your stock build up for a while before you had enough to make yours.” “We did not make our suits. They were bestowed on us by the Protectors, each piece crafted by expert smiths across Okoto.” “Oh. Maybe I can use that as an excuse for why I’m wearing silver…” Ekimu returned the Mask of Focus. “What does this mask do?” “It kind of…puts me more in tune with the universe, you know? Clears my thoughts, makes me more aware of my surroundings, speeds up how fast I can process and analyze things so that I can strike quickly and precisely. That sort of thing.” “I see.” Ekimu turned around, hoping to buy some time to let his mind stop reeling and think. His gaze caught on something shimmering on one of the anvils—the hilt of a sword, it looked like, the blade covered by a sagging cloth. “Oh, that?” Max said. He maneuvered around the boxes of icicles at the anvil’s base and pulled the cloth over the hilt. “Just an experiment of mine. So, um, what do you think? Another Mask Maker! Great news, yeah?” “This will certainly change things,” Ekimu said. “…Max. I find it hard to believe you would go through all this trouble without a plan for what to do next. So…” Max grinned. Moving back to the suit of armor, he held the Mask of Focus above its shoulders. “Next, I become a legend.” When he turned, Ekimu could see the powerful gleam in his eye. “I’m going to make hundreds of masks, enough that people in every Region will want them! My work will live on for years, like yours and Makuta’s, and I’ll be remembered forever as one of the chosen few—the great Mask Makers!” Ekimu paused to take this in. “You are quite…enthusiastic about this new stage of your life. I envy your zeal.” Max laughed and set his mask down. “Don’t worry, Ekimu, I’m sure I won’t overshadow you.” “If I may say so…you seem drawn to this primarily for the recognition you assume will come.” In the back of his mind, Ekimu felt there was something familiar about this villager. Max raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Well, everybody wants to make a name for themselves. Some of us just have a chance to leave a bigger mark on history than others, and I’m sure not gonna turn that down.” Ekimu hummed. “Oh come on. You and Makuta started making masks to change the world, right? Is it so wrong that I want to do the same?” “I cannot speak for my brother. As for me, my decision to join him was for a more personal reason.” Max sighed. “Okay. I don’t see the problem here. Makuta’s still out of commission, and you’re not going to be returning to full mask production until you find him. There’s a demand for masks that’s gone unanswered for a long time. I can fill it. Sure, the three of us will be competing at some point, but a little friendly rivalry never hurt anyone!” Ekimu still couldn’t shake the feeling. “Max, why do you really want to become a Mask Maker?” “I just told you. With this, I can become a legend.” “Yes, a legend, but what does that mean to you?” “What? You know…a legend! Someone people admire and respect. Someone who gets talked about for generations and generations, on until the end of society, the kind of person you wish you could go back in time and meet.” Ekimu nodded. “So…you want everyone to acknowledge you.” And that was when Ekimu realized why Max seemed so familiar. “You want to prove your worth and be celebrated for you accomplishments.” Max looked aside. “Well…I guess?” He’s the same as I was, spending my days hunting whatever I could to impress the Protector of Earth. “I think I understand, and so I must warn you: it may be best to wait a bit longer before becoming a Mask Maker.” Max’s jaw dropped. “…Huh?” “When I made masks hoping for the admiration of others, I failed more often than I succeeded, and each failure had a terrible sting to it. But, once I accepted that I did not have to—“ “Wait a minute, wait,” Max interrupted, waving his hand. “Are you telling me I’m going to fail?” “No, that is not what I mean. I am only saying—“ “I know you’re pretty good at this, but I think I’m fair in saying I’m pretty darn good too.” “Max, please, listen. It nearly took a catastrophe for me to begin to change, and—“ “You know what I think? I think you’re just afraid that people are going to want my masks more than yours.” “…What?” Max started up the stairs. “Times have changed, Ekimu. You’ve been gone a long time, and maybe your day in the spotlight is over. Don’t try to stop me from stepping up to take mine.” Ekimu shook his head. How can I make him see? What would have made me see? Thinking back, it was very easy to come to a conclusion. Nothing. I never listened to anyone who insisted they had something worthwhile to tell me. I could have avoided so many mistakes if I had taken their wisdom…but, I could only gain that wisdom from my own experiences. He went upstairs to find Max crouched next to his dog. “I apologize, Max,” Ekimu said. “I did not mean to offend you.” Max stood. “Right. No harm done.” Ekimu smiled. “I’m sure you will make a fine Mask Maker. But, please allow me to offer one piece of advice.” Max said nothing. “Ambition can be a wonderful thing, but if it is all you live for, you may one day find yourself suffering needlessly. You must never be afraid to re-examine yourself and the things you have said. There is never any shame in changing.” *** Villagers filled the snowy field before Max’s forge, their excited murmurs together creating quite a fearsome roar. At approximately the center of the crowd stood Izotor, Protector of Ice, watching with dull eyes. “It would seem he sent the letter to most of the village,” the Protector observed in a bored tone. To his left, Ekimu said, “Yes, so it would seem. Though I am surprised the Master of Ice is not here.” “He was invited. He must have gotten lost again—we shall send someone to fetch him later.” All talking stopped when the door slowly creaked open. The eyes of the crowd were trained on Max as he stepped outside, clad in silver armor, hammer in hand, sunlight glinting off the Mask of Focus he wore. No one dared take a breath. Max steadily advanced. The villagers parted to create a path for him. He inhaled deeply, and then shouted, “Good people of the Village of Ice! The time has come for a wonderful change, which shall sweep across the island of Okoto and carry it on to a new age! For too long, we have been without our beloved Mask Makers. The great Ekimu has been restored to us, but duty requires his absence a bit longer as he valiantly searches for his brother Makuta. His quest is noble! Can we find it in us to ask that he abandon it?” He struck the ground with the base of his hammer. “So instead! While Ekimu searches for Makuta, it shall be I who keeps the forges lit! The spirit of the Mask Makers shall indeed be renewed today!” His hammer began to shine with energy; he raised it, unleashing a blast into the sky. “Rejoice, my people! Let the time of the Mask Makers begin again!” The people cheered. Even Izotor raised his eyebrows. “How unexpected,” the Protector said. “There are certainly ways to make use of this. You do not object, do you, Mask Maker?” Ekimu watched Max, beaming as he looked across the crowd. He still could not fully suppress his worry. Yet, upon further reflection, he had realized there was a difference between he and Max that may prove crucial. While Ekimu had indeed craved acknowledgement in the same way Max did, that was not what had driven him to become a Mask Maker—he had done so in search of redemption of that flaw and the mistakes he had made because of it. Before the incident with the Skull Spider, Ekimu never would have considered making masks. He views this much differently than I did. A margin so wide could very easily be enough to protect him from making my mistakes. “No, Protector. In fact, I am quite glad.” [Max credit goes to Karios]
  3. [An Okoto 579 Story] The First Break Protector Nikila raised her trident, signaling the villagers behind her to halt. Before them loomed the Temple of Time, its subtle blue radiance conveying some vague omen to them as it spoke through the steady tick tock of its swinging pendulum. The night sky above was clear save for a few wisp-like clouds that rose up alongside the glowing pillar that originated from the Temple. As it climbed, the pillar pointed to six planets visible in the distance, the space between them and the light growing smaller ever so gradually. The alignment was nigh. She turned to face her party, composed of villagers from all six Regions. “Keep watch over the sky. We must not let them claim another spirit, or it will be the end of us all!” Nikila tugged on her brown cloak, and then pressed on towards the Temple. As they came upon its base, the villagers could see another group moving in from the opposite side of the slope: each member was tall, at least twice the height of the villagers, and seemed made entirely of muscle. Their armor varied, but each suit gleamed as if it hungered for battle, and all carried a weapon of some kind that seemed just as vicious. At the head of this group was one who towered even above his companions. His torso alone was larger than a whole villager, and his armor was blacker than darkness with blood-red lines running through the main plates like veins. In one hand he carried a shortsword, and in the other a tall, three-pronged staff that looked as if it could rip the heart from a being mid-breath. He wore a horned silver helmet made to resemble a skull, and as one looked into his blazing orange eyes, it was like staring directly into the unrelenting face of death. His name was Spiriah. But the villagers knew and feared him by another name: the Skull Grinder. Spiriah stopped just short of the Temple’s doors and planted his staff in the ground. He spoke slowly, his voice coarse and smooth at once. “Wuhuhahaha…so, you are what passes as a leader in those primitive settlements from the lowlands? How truly fearsome.” A chortle rippled through his party. Nikila halted not far from him, holding her head high. “I am Nikila, Protector of Ice. I have been selected by the tribes of Okoto to direct this Spirit Hunt.” Spiriah cocked his head. “Protector, you say? Is that what you’ve begun to call yourselves? I suppose it fitting, seeing as defense is all you can muster.” Nikila looked up at the Temple. “It has proven enough thus far.” “Oh-hoh! Such backbone for a lowlander. You truly believe you can steal this spirit from me, don’t you?” “We have as much chance as you, and far more drive.” “Drive? Desperation is its name.” Spiriah took a step forward and leaned. The sun had begun to rise, casting just enough light that his shadow fell upon Nikila. “When I succeed here today, my City shall have two great weapons while your villages have not even one between you. Then, I shall be able to destroy you all at my leisure.” Nikila looked up into his masked face, not shaken in the least. “The spirits are gifts, sent to our humble realm from beyond the reaches of time by forces we can never hope to comprehend. Treat them as weapons, and you shall never know their full potential.” Spiriah leaned back and laughed. His armor rattled with each heave of his chest. “You lowlanders always say the most amusing things. The fantastic tales you weave to escape your harsh reality…perhaps I shall have them preserved, once there are none of you left to repeat them.” A crack in the air drew their attention. Far above, the planets had begun to line up with the Temple’s pillar, which now wreathed itself in an electric aura. Those assembled all gazed up at it, each feeling their own unique mix of anticipation, awe, and dread. The hill fell silent. The planets moved together slowly, slowly, until finally, for just a moment, they formed a straight line from the Temple and up into eternity. Some unspeakable power surged down the pillar of light and directly into the structure. The Temple shook ferociously, its pendulum stopping completely at its high point for a short time, and then swinging back through the building and out the other side with an earsplitting clunk. The energy was shot back into the sky, knocking the planets out of the pillar and back into their orbits, going up and up and up until it vanished from existence. Then there was a tiny dot of orange light, so faint that it was easy to lose in the shine of the pillar. But it grew brighter, and larger, trailing fire behind it as it fell towards Okoto. Every eye was trained on it, trying to imagine where it would land. It swerved to one side as it completed its descent, ultimately crashing in the Region of Water and spilling a large plume of smoke into the air. Instantly they broke into a sprint. All those at the Temple of Time sprang forward, the two parties separating but both advancing towards the already-waning sigil on the horizon, all hurrying, all hoping that their allies already near the Region would be able to subdue the new arrival before their enemies could get there. *** The Lord of Skull Spiders trudged across the blue-green marshland, his movements slow and purposeless. When he had emerged from the crater, he had found that he had very few memories—he knew his name, he knew that there were smaller Skull Spiders and that they were his to command, and he knew what physical needs he would have to fulfill if he wanted to stay alive. Everything else was a blank. Since then, he had learned that he hated marshes. But, somehow that achievement seemed less than noteworthy. He continued his trek towards the mountains in the distance, for they seemed more inviting than the ocean in the opposite direction, the cold, white lands to the north, and the even denser marshes to the south. He knew not what he would do when he got there, but he felt that being out of this detestable swamp would be rewarding enough on its own. A shriek caught his attention. Approaching from the southwest was a creature roughly the same size as him, a scorpion. It had six long, slender legs that carried it forward with surprising swiftness, and a ridged, faintly-glowing green shell covering its back. Aside from that shell it was lightly armored, nearly skeletal in fact, a perception that was only strengthened by the skull-like appearance of its face. It drew closer, snapping the two claws at the front of its body as well as the massive claw on the end of its tail where a stinger should have been. The Skull Scorpion charged, staring down the Lord of Skull Spiders with other-worldly focus. When the Spider finally realized he was not slowing down, he spat a burst of webbing as a warning, snagging one of the Scorpion’s feet and making it stick to the ground. The Scorpion paused a moment to examine the substance, and then ripped itself free and resumed its course. The Spider stood his ground. The Scorpion stopped in front of the Spider and shrieked again, slowly waving its foreclaws. It turned and jabbed its tail towards the mountains, and then turned back to the Spider as if expecting a response. The Spider didn’t understand. He tried to move around the Scorpion, but the Scorpion cut him off and repeated the gesture with his tail. The Spider spat webbing in the Scorpion’s face and continued on his way. He had not made it far when the Scorpion’s tail claw clamped around him. The sudden pain stunned him, and he was lifted into the air and slammed back down. The Scorpion removed the webs from his face and shrieked furiously. The marshy ground softened the blow (at last, one advantage to this wretched landscape), and the Spider was able to slip free and bound away. The Scorpion followed, swiping at the Spider’s legs when he came close enough. Shaking off the blow, the Spider whirled and headbutted the Scorpion, and then sprang upon the back of his dazed foe and clamped on. The Scorpion reared back and shook, unable to loosen his opponent’s grip. When he felt the Spider began to web up his tail claw, he flopped on his side and rolled over, ending up with the Spider pinned beneath him, upside down in a large puddle. The Spider flailed his way out from under the Scorpion, gasping for air, and then was flattened by another strike from the other creature’s tail. Pausing to stomp on the Spider, the Scorpion lowered its tail and picked the webbing off its claw, and then it beat its captive with its foreclaws and shrieked victoriously. But the Spider wasn’t done yet. He jabbed one leg into the Scorpion’s face, allowing him to break free, and then caught the Scorpion’s tail with a strand of webbing and pulled. The Scorpion was spun around and dragged back; the Spider bit the base of his tail, and then jumped away while he cried out in pain. He jumped a few more times before sinking into the mud. The Scorpion was charging again, so the Spider shot another strand of web at his tail. It latched on, but before the Spider could do anything, the Scorpion pulled hard, drawing the Spider through the air and directly into the clawed tail. As the Scorpion began driving its foe into the ground several times, a new face appeared over the nearby hill. A tall figure clad in bright green armor slowly marched through the wetlands, his scowling face angled towards the ground. Three of his arms held a shortsword while the fourth carried an orange chain, which was currently coiled up around his wrist. “Obnoxious lowlanders,” Orkahm muttered to himself. “What do they know?” He looked up. Upon seeing the two creatures fighting, he stopped and stared a moment. His scowl became a grin. Running towards the duel, Orkahm called, “Great Scorpion! If I may, allow me to lend my assistance!” The Skull Scorpion turned towards his voice. Recognizing him as one of Spiriah’s Generals, he tossed the Lord of Skull Spiders in his direction, glad to have some help in subduing the aggressive beast. Orkahm unraveled his chain and threw it. The clawed end clamped onto the Spider’s leg just as he landed; the Spider swung it viciously to try to shake the tool off, but Orkahm used the momentum to swing around and land on his back. Orkahm wrapped his legs around the Spider and looped the chain around his head, fighting for a secure hold as he began to buck. The Spider was stronger than he had anticipated, and he could feel himself slipping; emptying his mind, he called upon his knowledge of the mystic and let new energy flow into his body, granting him strength enough to hang on to the wild spirit as it thrashed about. The Scorpion had caught up now—a hit from one of his foreclaws prompted the Spider to stop. “Our apologies for the rude introduction, honorable spirit,” Orkahm said in a low voice. “I know you must be very confused. This realm is no doubt quite different from your home; many spirits such as yourself become quite shocked until they adjust. We have no wish to harm you. In fact, we wish to provide you with a new home, if you would like one.” The Lord of Skull Spiders stood still. He made a sound, but Orkahm didn’t react. Another irritation, he thought—he could understand the man-spider, but it seemed the man-spider could not understand him. He looked to the Skull Scorpion and made the sound again. As he thought, the Scorpion did not understand him either. It would be difficult to join a “home” where none could understand him, but fighting them both seemed unwise. Perhaps, just for now, he would obey them. Something deep within him said it was the right choice. The Spider lowered his body to the ground, hoping that would be clear enough. Orkahm understood, and so he removed the chain and climbed off the Spider’s back. With a smile, he said, “My name is Orkahm. This is the Skull Scorpion, a spirit sent from the same realm as you who has watched over our tribe for 100,000 years now.” The two creatures’ gazes met. “My people live in a great City high in the mountains. I would be honored if you would allow me to lead you there.” Slowly, the Spider stood up. Orkahm turned and walked towards the mountains, and the Lord of Skull Spiders and the Skull Scorpion filed behind him. Soon, the Spider thought, these marshes would be behind him forever. *** Nikila surveyed the land and frowned. She waved to the villagers still with her, shouting orders to split up and comb over different parts of the Region. Where could it be… She walked upriver, keeping an eye out for any sign of the spirit. Just as she considered doubling back, she came upon a delta and spotted none other than Spiriah standing on the banks. In front of him were Orkahm and the Skull Scorpion, and just behind them was the Lord of Skull Spiders. Nikila froze. No…no, this cannot be! Spiriah looked down at the Spider, chuckling in delight. “Well done, Orkahm. I would say you have earned your keep.” Orkahm bowed. “Thank you, sir.” Nikila rushed towards the party, and struck the ground with her trident to get their attention. “Spiriah!” Spiriah laughed, not bothering to look at her. “Ah, the leader of the lowlanders. Have you come to see my newest recruit?” “You only subdued that spirit because you sent another spirit to find it. This is a violation of the terms we agreed upon!” Spiriah looked over his shoulder, his apathy more than enough to carry through his helmet. “And so what if it is? I chose to use all resources available to me. Would you not do the same?” “I would not cheat and lie for my own selfish gain, certainly! To think you would resort to such treachery.” Spiriah ignored her. Stepping forward, Nikila added, “Perhaps you employ these underhanded tactics because your assertions of your people’s superiority are something not even you truly believe?” Spiriah’s head jerked. Orkahm and the Skull Scorpion backed away as he strode towards Nikila, coming uncomfortably close and kneeling down with his helmet inches from her face, eyes alight with unbridled disgust. “The reason I care not for our agreement, lowlander, is because I see no gain in abiding by rules put forth by worms. You and your laws are beneath me. Had you a way to stop me, then I may have been inclined to think twice. But we both know that you do not. So what have I to fear? The anger of a speck of dust is nothing to me.” Not waiting for a reply, he stood and set off for his City. Orkahm and the two creatures followed behind him, leaving Nikila to glare at them alone as they shrank into the distance, wondering how she and the other Protectors could have any hope of defending their people now. Review
  4. [An Okoto 579 Story] The First Swing CLANG! The villager hefted his hammer, examining the product in the span of a second to determine where to strike next. CLANG! Sparks flew out from where he hit. They cooled as they showered down on the floor of the round stone hut, their faint glimmer soon being overpowered by the luminous purple crystals hanging from the ceiling. CLANG! He stopped. The black and purple armored being walked to the window and looked out—dozens of similar huts were built into stalactites hanging from the cliff above them, and many other villagers could be seen bustling about the expanse of gray rock below. Out beyond the cliff’s shadow was a massive sundial, and upon seeing it was nearly mid-day, the craftsman sighed and pulled back inside. “Well, I’d like more time, but…” He examined the piece upon his workbench. Though he felt it looked rather crude, this creation’s purpose was to make a point, not to look good. Makuta nodded and set down his hammer. “This will have to do.” *** Cheers drew Makuta’s attention as he travelled down the road. Squinting against the sunset, he glanced towards the crowd gathering near the stone gates at the edge of the village. In the middle of the waving mass was the carcass of one of the large armored lions who hunted the region, resting on a cart being drawn by two muscular villagers. Before the cart were two more villagers, carrying a fifth on their shoulders: one who was short but sturdy with black and blue armor, victoriously beating the air with his fists. He wore a mask that covered the top of his face, its top edge curling up into a semi-circle crest with its edges rising about a foot above the wearer’s eyes. The mask was mainly gold, but a portion of its upper edge was tinged with blue, and it was held in place by a single strap that wrapped around the back of the wearer’s head. Makuta turned back to the road. The masked villager saw him and, after commanding his friends to put him down, pushed through the crowd and strode up to Makuta. “Brother!” he called in a booming, proud voice. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me on another successful hunt?” “Congratulations, Ekimu,” Makuta replied dismissively. “It seems you will never grow bored of using your gifts for slaughter.” Ekimu slapped Makuta’s shoulder a little too hard. “Come now, brother, one of us had to take up father’s legacy. I’d be happy to take a break if you felt like using that hammer of yours properly.” “Properly? I am one of the finest craftsmen on the island. Perhaps you should learn a new use for your hammer, brother.” Ekimu scoffed. “What, join you at the forge? Preposterous. Mother’s lessons never held any appeal for me.” Makuta smiled. “Perhaps that was because you did not pay attention?” As Ekimu glared at Makuta, he noticed the package in his brother’s hand. “What have you got there?” Makuta pulled back. “This is related to my announcement at the forum. If you want your answer, you’ll just have to come and watch.” “Don’t be like that, brother!” Ekimu tried to grab the package. Makuta pushed him away, but Ekimu continued to reach for it. “Ahem!” The two brothers turned to see a villager in all black armor, tall enough to look down upon them. They instantly stepped apart and bowed. “Ekimu. Makuta. Squabbling again, I see.” “My apologies, Protector,” Makuta said. “I was merely on my way to the forum.” “And I, having just returned from my latest hunt, was simply hoping to satisfy my curiosity,” Ekimu said. “As apology for this ruckus, I wish to turn my bounty into your possession.” He gestured back towards the lion. The Protector looked at it for a moment, and then looked back to him. “You may keep your prize, and I ask that you also keep your patience. Makuta has already decided when to unveil his latest creation, so you must honor his wishes.” “…Yes, Protector.” Ekimu returned to his friends, and Makuta and the Protector headed in the other direction. As they walked, the Protector said, “He may be quite the hunter, but your brother can be a bit of a nuisance when he wishes.” “Please forgive him, Protector—he worries that he is not seen as a true member of our village. I suggested that perhaps he stay with father’s family in the Region of Water, but he insists that this is his home. Hunting is a way for him to feel both connected to our father and useful to the Village of Earth, and his annoying behavior is…” Makuta trailed off, searching for the right words. They proved very elusive. “Well, he means no harm, I assure you.” The Protector smiled. “You have a good heart, Makuta. I hope that one day you rub off on Ekimu.” “Thank you, Protector.” They walked to the top of the cliff that sheltered the main part of the village. From there, the many cliffs of the Region of Earth could be seen, stretching from the ever-moving ocean on one horizon to the mountainous crags that set the inland borders of the region. The meeting place was a simple collection of stone benches arranged to view a large stage near the cliff’s edge, purple crystals lining the seats for light and two larger deposits on either side of the stage. Makuta and the Protector sat on a bench beside the stage and waited as others slowly gathered and the night gradually fell. When the benches were nearly full, the Protector stood up and walked onto the stage. Instantly the murmuring crowd fell silent. The Protector surveyed them, cleared her throat, and smiled. “Welcome to the monthly forum,” she said. “As always, I am eager to hear what you all have to say about how we can better our village. But before that, our blacksmith, Makuta, would like to say a few words on his newest work. Makuta?” The Protector moved off to the side of the stage. Taking a deep breath, Makuta walked on-stage and faced the crowd. “Thank you, Protector. Good evening, everyone! I will attempt to be as brief as possible. As you know, my brother Ekimu and I—“ A few villagers in the back broke out in cheers, almost definitely Ekimu and his friends. Caught off-guard for a moment, Makuta shrugged off the interruption and continued. “Ekimu and I were taught by our father the ways of a secret art from the Region of Water, one that allows us to draw in energy and use it to enhance our own abilities. Its results are difficult to argue with, as is shown clearly by Ekimu’s many feats of sportsmanship.” Another outburst of cheering. “Though I may not use this skill in my everyday life, I do find it quite useful in emergencies. It is this skill that allowed me to deal with the giant worm that broke through our gates three months ago. After that event, I found myself wondering what would have happened if I had not been there—surely, there would have been much more destruction, and perhaps even several deaths. I know that my brother and I cannot always be where trouble strikes. So, while I am forbidden to teach our art, I sought a way to distribute the power of my father, a way for anyone to harness additional energy to grow stronger when they need it most.” He began to unwrap his creation. “The answer, I found, was simple. I only needed to combine my father’s gift of power with my mother’s gift of smithing. First, the energy would be gathered, and then, it would be stored within an object one can carry on their person, allowing it to be tapped into at any time. And that is what led me to create this…” He dropped the cloth wrapping and held the work over his head. It was a mask, one made of a gleaming purple metal, its edges rounded and its surface smooth. The only features it bore were its two rectangular eyeholes. “A Mask of Power!” The crowd remained silent. Ekimu soon stood up, shouting, “What, that simple trinket is supposed to grant power? I don’t even see a way to wear it!” Lowering the mask, Makuta answered, “Yes, well, that’s actually rather interesting. Most of you have heard of Skull Spiders? They are a rarely seen creature with the ability to bind to another being’s face and take control of their body. At first glance, it appears the creatures latch on with their legs, but upon closer examination, the body of a Skull Spider actually possesses a special binding power that holds it to the face of its host—the legs are merely an aid in the process. Through trial and error, I was able to replicate this natural binding power in the metal I used to create this mask. Here, watch.” Makuta pressed the mask against his face. When he removed his hands, the mask remained stuck to him, causing a murmur of amazement to ripple through the crowd. He removed the mask after a few seconds, revealing a broad smile. Ekimu waved his hand and shrugged. “So you invented a metal that clings. How do you intend to prove that it can make one stronger?” “Actually, I was hoping you might help me with that, brother.” Ekimu raised an eyebrow. “Send up one of your fellow hunters. I shall select another villager to wear my mask, and the two shall have a competition of strength.” With a grin, Ekimu turned to the villager at his right. “Go on, then.” The hunter, a tall villager with massive arms, plodded towards the stage, while Makuta beckoned towards a thin villager about half his size. When the small villager came on-stage, Makuta placed the Mask of Power on their face and then stepped out of the way. The two villagers faced each other and clasped hands. Both began to push against the other, and at first neither budged an each. Before long, however, the hunter found himself losing ground. Bewildered, he tightened his grip and pushed harder. The smaller villager did the same, and continued to push the hunter’s arm back even further. Soon enough, the hunter let go, and he stepped back awkwardly as the crowd applauded. Ekimu watched wide-eyed. Makuta thanked the two, reclaimed the mask, and sent them back to their seats. Facing the assembly again, he said, “Hopefully this demonstration has shown the merit of the Masks of Power. With the village’s support, I would like to forge more of them, enough that every villager may have their own Mask of Power so that we may all be better prepared for the unexpected. It will take time, and I do hope to implement a few different designs, but…” The Protector stepped forward. “Thank you, Makuta. It does indeed seem you have created something revolutionary here.” She turned to the crowd and raised her arms. “Well? Let us hear what you think of Makuta’s Mask of Power!” The entire crowd burst into celebratory noise. Villagers jumped and waved, chanting Makuta’s name in delight. In the back, Ekimu crossed his arms and glared at his brother. “I will never wear one of your masks.” (Review)
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