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  1. Synopsis: Just another relatively idyllic day for the Turaga of Metru Nui to oversee. Or is it? The Last Ember Day Turaga Dume got up and put his mask on for the day. Blinking the world into focus and stifling back a yawn, he stretched, rolling the burden of the years from his shoulders. An unbidden groan escaped as the weight of responsibility quickly settled into the vacancy. He couldn’t deny he was getting old, as much as he resented it. Hadn’t his dreams, mere moments ago, been filled with echoes of his triumphs as a Toa? With a decisive shake of his head, he banished the deceivingly sweet nostalgia away. He knew if he let it linger, it would quickly turn bitter. Had anyone else been present, he was sure his morning routine would embarrass him. It wasn’t befitting for the Turaga of Metru Nui to grumble at his wilting window plant - a parting gift from the recently reassigned Toa Mangai of the Green, nor was it proper to kick away assortments of day-to-day items and armor pieces in need of regeneration, promising to get to them later. Dume snatched up his staff, checked one last time to make sure his robe hung evenly, and was out the door. The two Rorzakh guards, permanently assigned to him, fell into perfectly synchronous step behind him. Even after all these years, and even with their inventor’s increasingly sophisticated updates to help smooth the mechanized officer into Metru society as seamlessly as possible, they still couldn’t greet him with the cheery, “Good morning, Turaga! Here is your itinerary for the day!” Yes, Dume missed having Matoran aides, but they had this unpleasant habit of falling for bribes and corrupting too easily. In fact, even now, the ringleader of a counterfeit Kanoka operation was waiting in the basement of the Coliseum to be interrogated. The only reason the Vahki had been able to bring him in was because one of Dume’s clerks had been selling Coliseum intelligence gang. That’s what it was, despite what the Matoran advisors in his council meetings insisted. So what, if there were ‘connotations’? Dume was sure he aged twice as fast in the council sessions. Destiny was sadistic, that it had him spending most of his time there, these days. “Toa Naho,” Turaga Dume greeted the Toa of Water who waited in said council chamber. His Vahki faded into the background.“I wasn’t aware we were meeting today.” “Apologies, Turaga.” She nodded once in deferential greeting, speaking quickly. “Your clerks cleared a few minutes for me to update you on the Archivist situation.” The Toa was practically bouncing in place - clearly neither he nor she wanted her to be there longer than necessary. She had a young spirit, Naho did. “By all means,” the Turaga said, opening a palm to her in invitation to speak freely. It took him a moment, though, to recall which Archivist situation she was taking care of. They were never in short supply. “With the information from last week’s scouting, and taking into account his last known trajectory, there’s a good chance I can bring in rogue Archivist Mavrah into custody by mid-week.” A slight, self-satisfied and eager smile broke onto her Mask of Calculations, which had no doubt helped her pinpoint her quarry’s most likely hideaway. “Excellent work, Naho,” Dume congratulated her, and waved one of his Vahki over. Lhikan was right to leave her in charge while he was gone. “How many Vahki do you estimate you’ll need?” “One squad of Bordakh, and two Keerakh, if you can spare them.” Her answer was confident and precise, which he appreciated. “Did you get that?” Dume asked his Rorzakh, which chirped once in response, and otherwise remained stationary. He turned back to the Toa. “The Keelerakh will meet you outside the Coliseum, and you may pick up your squad of Bordakh at the nearest Ga-Metru hive. Great Spirit’s blessing to you, Toa.” It would be good to finally, finally put this whole Mavrah matter to rest. He’d been an acid fly in the armor for far too long. A few months of a personal Rorzakh shadow, a few more months under the Vahki’s Staff of Presence surveillance, and reassignment to street maintenance for a few years, Dume hoped, would mellow him out. “Turaga?” Naho turned once more, almost out the door. “Have you any word from Lhikan on his return?” “He’s sent me no word of delay. We’ve no reason not to expect him on time,” Dume reassured her. Toa Lhikan had accompanied his brothers on their reassignment to see them off to the Southern Continent - their Toa of the Green and Toa of Ice. However, Dume was worried about his courageous commander - Lhikan had been badly shaken by Toa Tuyet’s betrayal, and even moreso by Nidhiki’s. Although the events had passed years ago, those close to Lhikan knew it would always be yesterday for him. Dume suspected Naho shared the same worry for him. And now that troubles in the city had been stabilized, for decades now, the Toa Mangai were increasingly feeling destiny’s call elsewhere, which couldn’t be ignored. But for those left behind, it was like another branch in a Kanohi stress fracture - you never knew when it would break, but you knew it was inevitable. He would have to do something about that. After all, hadn’t he once led a team of Toa, not unlike the ones now serving his city? “I’ll let you know personally, if anything changes.” And she was gone. All too soon, the clerks began to show in petitioners to the council chamber. When necessary, this or that advisor was brought in, and the scribes switched out every hour or so. The chutes in Ko-Metru were malfunctioning again due to weather-related issues. Dume granted the petitioning engineer an writ of exception to halt his current projects and prioritize that one. The canals in Ga-Metru were filling with algae. He called in his botany advisor and authorized them to work with the petitioning students to assign scheduled canal maintenance by neighborhood. The Ga-Matoran had taken for granted the recently departed Toa of the Green living in their Metru. A Ta-Matoran came in accusing the Po-Matoran he had in tow of sabotaging his latest shipment of tools. Dume had to threaten to have his Rorzakh intervene if the two didn’t calm down. Sometimes, Toa Lhikan would sit in on these open council sessions. Nobody dared say as much out loud, but many assumed, when the time came, the Matoran of Metru Nui would someday look to venerated a venerated Turaga Lhikan to lead them into the future. By Dume’s reckoning, though, the Toa of Fire still had many a good fighting year left in him. But then again, anyone could be destiny’s fool. “This is an internal Ko-Metru affair,” he told the two Ko-Matoran before him, snapping back to present. “I’m afraid I can offer you no ruling.” And he dismissed them. “From Onu-Metru, inventor Nuparu,” the clerk presented, sliding into the chamber as the two Ko-Matoran left. If he were able to call any Matoran a friend, Nuparu would be his first choice. He’d worked almost daily with the inventor when the brilliant Matoran’s Vahki initiative had launched, and the Turaga couldn’t help admire not just Nuparu’s work, but the way he went about it - making sure both he and his order enforcers put Matoran first. Dume had seen just how much damage the Vahki could do, during their prototype stages, and had no illusions to the power he held as their sole commander. Not even Nuparu could command them absolutely - the inventor had programmed his own authority away out of loyalty to his city and the Turaga who oversaw it. Dume had confided in Lhikan - if ever his station of power over the city and its army of robotic order enforcers started crossing his wires, Lhikan’s duty was to call him out on it. The Matoran and their well-being was first and foremost, not enforcing their productivity, but bolstering their livelihoods. The rest would follow. “Turaga Dume.” The inventor dipped in a quick bow, which was unnecessary, and continued without preamble. “I’ve the upgraded staffs for your Rorzakh.” Dume recognized the Matoran’s staccato speech pattern and near-constant fidgeting. There was a much more interesting project that this errand was keeping him from. Suppressing an amused smile, Dume thanked him and waved in the two Matoran bearing the new Vahki staffs. “You’ve outdone yourself, Nuparu.” The Onu-Matoran mumbled something in acknowledgment, but was absorbed in the control panels that ran along one wall, holding one of the new staffs close above an input sensor. This specialized model of the Rorzakh Staff of Presence would route the eavesdropping feed directly to the telescreen in Turaga Dume’s council chamber. Dume hoped never to have to have reason to need this function, but with recent events, one could never be too careful. Not with the city’s very heart at stake. It had been too quiet for too long, the days were even beginning to blur together. Nobody believed the Shadowed One and his legions of dark operatives were truly through with the City of Legends. Goodbyes were short, monosyllabically so on Nuparu’s part, and that wasn’t unusual. If need for a new generation of Toa ever arose in the city, and Dume prayed to Mata Nui that it wouldn’t, he believed Nuparu would honor that station well. “How many more are waiting?” Dume asked the clerk who next poked her head in. “Four, Turaga,” she reported. “No more, after that,” he told her. He had hoped to make it to the schools before they closed, but that wouldn’t happen today. He was to meet Toa Obrakun, one of the remaining Toa Mangai of Ice, in the interrogation chambers to confidentially hear any information gleaned from the high-security prisoners. One was the Kanoka counterfeiter, another was a Le-Matoran with carefully inconsistent records in his dealings with Stelt, and another was the captain of a ship that had made an unauthorized stop much too close to Odina for anyone’s liking. Although nobody liked the job, a Toa interrogator often had more success than a fellow Matoran, or Vahki. Unfortunately, Toa Mangai of Ice, Kadasi had been the one to leave on reassignment to the Southern Continent last week. His rare and precious Kanohi Rode had simplified countless interrogations. After the incident with the Kanohi Dragon, many a Matoran slept easier at night knowing a surplus of Ko-Toa were watching over them. But he’d earned his reassignment, and Dume had been glad to sign off on it, if not rueful in the slightest. Even with Kadasi gone, there were still three of his ice brothers in the city. It was only two hours past mid-day, although it felt like it should be suns-set. These were ember days, as he privately named them. He told himself, as the day wore on, that he should be thankful for these days. They were concrete evidence that they were in a time of peace. Managing day to day matters of his people was a privilege afforded by hard-earned prosperity, and it honored the Great Spirit to do the work to the best of his ability. Sometimes he recalled the inferno days of the Dark Hunter War, his people constantly living - and dying - in fear, the gnawing dread of betrayal waiting just around the corner, the sleepless weeks dragging and flying by in a detached but detailed haze. The juxtaposition always helped him appreciate the leisurely open council days. “Thank you,” Turaga Dume dismissed the scribe, scrambling for his name. He was a newer scribe, but from the glimpses Dume had gotten, diligent and thorough. “Kopeke,” he remembered. “Good work today.” “For the Great Spirit,” the Ko-Matoran returned by rote. All work you could be proud of was dedicated to the Great Spirit, of course. Sometimes it just helped to say it aloud. “For the Great Spirit,” Dume agreed, but to himself, for the Matoran was already gone. The Turaga heaved a sigh, and sat down at long last. He had less than half an hour before he had to meet the Toa of Ice downstairs in the basement. Interrogation chambers, high-security holding cells, it went by many names, but officially didn’t exist. “One of these days,” the Turaga said to his Rorzakh, who had patiently, perfectly, stood sentry the whole session, “I’ll be able to get some fresh air.” For most of the week, Dume had been in either open or closed council sessions, advisor assemblies, or receiving foreign ambassadors. None of those events were held outside the Coliseum. Next week, though, he was to referee a debate between top Ga-Metru students and the handful of Ko-Matoran nominated for official Scholar status. He looked forward to that, greatly, and made a mental note to read up on their debate topics beforehand. But that was a joke, because when would he find the time? “All right,” Turaga Dume heaved a sigh that was so powerful it pushed him wearily to his feet. “Downstairs.” He waved along his Rorzakh, heading for the electro-lift. The lift stopped at the arena floor, which it wasn’t supposed to. Annoyed, he jabbed the sublevel button again with the head of his staff. He’d have to put in a ticket to get an electrician to look at that. The natural light streaming in from the one window cut off, and a change in pressure that pushed against the sensitive parts in his audio-receptors. That was the only way Dume knew he was now below the surface of the city, because the doors sprang open to reveal a well-lit corridor identical to the ones in the Coliseum’s pinnacle levels, often used to house ambassadors or overworked advisors. Politician or prisoner, one’s amenities while staying in the Coliseum varied little. Whether that said more about one group or another, Dume wasn’t sure. On his more dismal days, he wasn’t even sure the difference. He bid his sentries follow him with a gesture of his staff. They made to follow obediently. As soon as Dume was clear of the lift’s heavy metallic doors, a deep coldness gripped him from somewhere deep in his gut. Something wasn't right. The doors slammed closed. He jumped back with a cry of alarm, ducking all that was left of the first Rorzakh as it sprayed out toward him in a shower of sparks and coolant. The brightness from the spark shower died, leaving Dume in complete darkness. The lights had gone out. All but the lights streaming out of the one window in each holding cell door. “Initiate protocol Dermis Shell,” Dume breathed. But the remaining Rorzakh’s only response was the resounding crash as it, too collapsed inside the lift. Was something in there with it? Dume’s heartlight flashed rapidly, even though he was holding perfectly still. But his mind refused to work, paralyzed. Slow, creeping movement along the floor caught his eye. Was that…? No. There, seeping under the crack of the first interrogation chamber? Surely, not… He reached the growing puddle, not realizing he’d consciously moved, stooping to test the liquid with a trembling hand. But the acrid stench was unmistakable - hemodermis. Blood. The sight of the remains of the Kanoka counterfeiter inside struck him like a fist. He stumbled back with a cry. Turaga Dume had barely regained his footing when a piercing scream echoed in the fouled corridor. “No!” he roared, leaping at the second door from where it issued. “No!” He battered the unforgiving door as it showed him the second prisoner - the boat captain with Steltian ties - writing on the floor. She was covered in a mass of slime. “No!!” It wasn’t slime. It was leeches. Writhing. Pulsing. Screeching. Feeding. Kraata. He realized, sinking to the floor as the Matoran’s screams were cut off abruptly. He nursed his wrist, which he didn’t remember breaking. The door didn’t even have a scratch on it. “No,” he whispered, voice shaking more than he was. Breath escaping in hoarse sobs, unbidden. Closed eyes helped nothing, death grinned obscenely at him there. Dume. His eyes snapped open. His breathing steadied. His heartlight slowed. All to make room for a different, crashing fear that rolled through him, more powerful than any bioquake. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t breathe. He was drawn toward the last interrogation chamber, trancelike. And the door opened for him, flooding him in clinical, ice sharp light. And what he saw rooted him to the spot. The last Matoran lay against the far wall. Head propped up at an unnatural angle. Staring far off, at nothing. He was almost eclipsed totally by the large, silver sphere he lay beside. A sphere? Toa Obrakun hung suspended in the air, motionless, and rotating slowly. Eyes and mouth open wide in a scream that would never be. A slow laugh, deeper than the abyss in the Silver Sea, roiled like poison from the one holding the Toa aloft. His shadow armor chilled the air. “Dume,” he repeated. And the Makuta smiled the sure smile of victory. “It was almost too easy.” The Toa dropped to the ground and lay still. The silver sphere rose in turn, coming between the Turaga and the terrorizer. The shadows cast by the stark interrogation lights came alive, burning. Dume could do nothing as the shadows snaked around him, constricting. He could do nothing as the Makuta, with that smile straight from Karzahki approached. Ripped Dume’s mask from his face. Replaced it with a screeching Kraata. Sleep, knowing you’ve failed. The Makuta’s voice reverberated inside Dume’s mind, which could hold nothing but the present horror. The sphere let out a mechanical hiss, and a panel slid open, revealing it to be hollow. Cold, as the last of his energy, his will, was drained away. The Kraata dropped away, satiated. Dark. “Your destiny awaits,” rumbled the Makuta. And the Turaga of Metru Nui crumbled, his fire smothered by the master of shadows. 'Turaga Dume' got up and put on his mask for the day.
  2. The day when I will return to my comedies is on the horizon, but I believe that I shall take this time to sit down and pen this small tale...The Golden Age- A Short Story fan fiction by BZPower member X-RayThe room was small, but not cramped. There was a window built into the opposing wall, with no glass over it, only a rough sheet with two holes drilled into the corners, one of which hung on the right of a counterpart pair of rough iron spikes. There was a crude desk and stool on the left side of the room, as well as a bucket, and a more elaborate version of the sleep pallet on the right. The mat propped up off the floor -What was it called? A bed?- looked shabby and used. But then again, everything about the room, the whole building even, was like that.Turaga Dume knew, however, that the shabbiness was perfectly understandable.Where he came from, everything was shiny and new, constantly being repaired and cleaned, improved upon and polished, by expert craftsmen. There was no such attention to unnecessary maintenance in this city -No, it is more like a Koro, I believe, thought the Turaga- even if resources could be expended for that. Fortunately, a handful of Matoran hailing from Artakha had arrived last week, and were already working wonders in the village, much to the amazement, even bewilderment, of the main inhabitants, the Agori.Where Dume came from, the weather was always at its best, and the nearest desert sands were in Po-Metru, where he did not often go... not that there was much desert sand around this place anymore either. Until several months ago, and only for a few months before that even, he had been able to survey the whole of Metru Nui from the window of his comfortable chambers, high in the Coliseum.Of course, he reflected as he went over to the window, the tallest building in this town, Vulcanus, was only three stories tall, not counting the basement. And he was currently in that structure, the Vulcanus Officiary Building, known informally as “the hall.” Specifically, this room was reserved for visiting leaders and other important personages. Just what is that bucket for, I wonder?As the de facto leader of the Matoran people, Turaga Dume had traveled from the crash site of the colossal Mata Nui robot, in whose head he had once resided, to the village of Vulcanus, or what of it was being re-established after the... ah, sudden break up, of the briefly established Bara Magna mega-city. Dume meant to meet with Raanu, his effective counterpart in the young Spherus Magna government, which was at present little more than a loose and informal confederation of varied societies, who did not always get along. The fire Agori assigned to Dume had informed him that he and Raanu were very much alike, at least to this orderly's knowledge. They were to speak after a small banquet in the evening -Whatever a banquet is- for Raanu had been traveling as well, arbitrating a dispute between the Jungle Tribe a group of Le-Matoran. Apparently, the incident arose when some particularly impetuous air tribesmen from the island of Mata Nui had tried to do some vine swinging at Tesara. The locals were not amused.Dume lurched over to his new... bed, and sat down. It was not as comfortable as his sleep pallet in the Coliseum, but it was far better than the prison cell in which he had been residing for the last few months with his fellow Turaga. He knew that he had a lot of work in store for him, but he wasn't sure that he had what it took to lead the Matoran anymore. They needed a leader who could know what they knew, and who they were familiar with. Someone like Turaga Vakama, or Turaga Onewa, or Turaga Matau, even. Dume now knew that his detached, aloof ways may not have been for the best.He also wasn’t sure whether he had the strength. The journey from the Great Spirit robot had been very hard on his ancient form, even on a good mount, in pleasing weather. The trip had to be made by caravan through the new lush landscape, and had taken him, his entourage, and their Glatorian escorts a week to reach Vulcanus. At least they and the Toa in their group had refrained from any bickering, until they arrived in the town anyway. Dume yawned and set down his staff, stretched his arms, and leaned back. He had not traveled so far in a long time. A long... time... * * * "Are you quite ready, great leader?" called Toa Hain from outside in the courtyard."Be patient brother," called back Toa Dume, slightly annoyed at the Toa of air’s flippant tone of voice. "I'm almost ready." He shuffled through the weapons rack, vowing to give Zima a stern lecture when she came back from patrol. The Toa of Lightning simply did not know how to clean up after herself, no doubt trying to escape the chore of tidying the armory by feigning incompetence.Today was weapons practice day for the Toa Sudak who weren't on patrol at the moment, and that meant, after a brief widget flip, that Dume had their resident Toa of air as a sparring partner. The being was a noble and valiant warrior, skilled in many types of weapons. But Hain was also, as many of the tribe of Le were, a jester by nature, and thus was found by some serious types such as Dume to be annoying.But, thought the Toa of Fire, and recently elected leader of the Sudak, I shall be able to learn to better myself in the art of swordsmanship from my practice with him. With that thought, Dume finally found his favorite sword and shield, and ran to the courtyard.In the courtyard, Hain and Dume were standing with their weapons on one side, with some posts and fence pieces mounted in the ground should they need them. On the other side were Naiphak, the Toa of iron, and Apher, the Toa of water, who were practicing with staves among similar equipment.“There you are!” Hain said to Dume cheerfully. He did a forward flip in the Toa of fire’s direction, drawing his sword and landing in a fighting stance as he finished. “What took you so long?” Hain said. “You were in the armory for almost ten minutes.”“Remember how Zima ‘cleaned’ the armory last night?” said Dume.“Oh, right,” Hain replied, knowing that nothing more needed to be said. “Zimmy really needs to, heh heh, clean up her act.” Hain then burst into a fit of cackling at his own joke, but soon realized that Dume was only looking at him strangely. “Um, very well then,” said Hain, quickly adding “great leader. We’ll start by reviewing Gukko Form, before moving on to Muaka.”“Alright,” said Dume, trying to keep his patience. Even after two weeks, his election as team leader was still a source of mockery for Hain, as well as Tolek, the Toa of Stone. “Let’s start then.”For the rest of the morning, Dume and Hain practiced various methods and forms, and sparred a few times. Dume was stronger and tougher than his opponent, but Hain had the advantage of speed, agility, and experience. There was no danger of either of them harming each other. The weapons being used at the moment had been crafted by Naiphak to be blunted, and therefore of little practical use than as bludgeons, and not very good bludgeons at that. But they were just fine for practice.After Dume had been slammed into the ground for the third time, Hain glanced at the sundial and noted that it was now a half hour past noon. “Break time, Dume,” he said, helping his partner off the ground. Dume, for his part, thanked the Toa of air for his patience, stretched out his joints, and then stumbled over to the fountain for drink of water. Naiphak and Apher were there as well.Hain took his marked cup form a shelf engraved into the side of the fountain. He took a deep, refreshing drink. Nothing like cold water on a hot day after training, he thought. Noting that Apher was standing next to him, he said to her, “Everything good on your end of the court?”The sapphire armored Toa glanced up from her cup, and gave a smile. Apher, like most of the other Toa on the eight member team, was a stranger to the Fe-Koro area. She wore a Kanohi Pakari, the mask of Strength. “Fine enough for Naiphak,” she said, “bad for my sides. I’m still having trouble getting my head around staff fighting.”“You could try something else then,” said Hain good-naturedly. “Some weapons just come easier to certain beings than others. Like say, oh, I don’t know… sword?”“No, no,” said Apher, holding up a flattened palm. “I chose this weapon to work on, and I’m going to stick with it-”“Ha! Stick!” exclaimed Hain, snickering behind his Kanohi Kakama. “Get it? Staff? Stick?”“And- and I’m going to practice with it for more than four days before trying something new,” finished Apher, before letting a “heh heh” escape her mouth. No matter how dumb Hain’s jokes got, there was still cause for laughter; Hain’s determination to not stop telling them. And some of them were actually pretty funny.Dume and Naiphak, meanwhile, had wandered over to the gates leading to the outside of the courtyard. This courtyard, when not being used as a training area for the Sudak, was actually a weathered sports arena, as evidenced by the several seats built around it. The Sudak each had individual homes throughout the town, and the fountain could be lowered into the ground when not needed. The rest of the practice equipment was portable.Naiphak climbed up into the bleachers, and peered over the upper guard rails. He saw the Matoran going about their work, trading, crafting, repairing, moving, guarding in the case of the local patrol, resting, healing, talking, arguing, and, in general, living.“How is it in the town?” called Dume from below the seats.Naiphak looked over his shoulder and called back, “Everything seems to be normal.” Naiphak looked again. He spotted Tyothis, the team’s other Toa of fire, standing watch at the west gate, making sure that incoming and outgoing carts had everything in order, chosen for that task because he wore the Kanohi Akaku, the mask of x-ray vision. He saw Zima, the Toa of Lightning, lazily strolling along the top of the town wall, before disappearing behind a building which obscured the Toa of Iron’s vision. He witnessed Tolek, the Toa of Stone, accidently bump over a fruit stand in the market place, and then hastily apologize to the infuriated owner while trying to help fix the stand. And he observed Juin, the Toa of Ice, talking with Turaga Settu, the village leader and former Toa of Iron, as well as Naiphak’s mentor.By this time, Dume had climbed up into the bleachers and was now standing next to Naiphak, looking over his adopted home. Upon seeing Tolek’s predicament, he was prompted to wonder aloud, “The Matoran have yet to get used to our presence, I see.”“How did it take you to get used to having a Toa around your village?” said Naiphak, narrowing his eyes at the Toa of fire.“We had no Toa in my village,” replied Dume icily, now regretting starting a conversation with Naiphak. The two had been opponents for the position of leader of the Toa Sudak, and there was still some sore wounds over the election. “We only had a worn out Turaga of Water, a handful of hot-headed Ta-Matoran, and the late Barraki Mantax who occasionally visited our village to hunt in our forest.”“You actually saw Mantax?” said Naiphak incredulously. Only Tyothis had been at the battle where Brotherhood of Makuta forces had soundly defeated the armies of the League of Six Kingdoms, and even he only got quick look at the Barraki, before they vanished out of the plane of existence. Rumors quickly flared up that Mata Nui had exacted punishment on them, but the Brotherhood of Makuta had recently rejected that possibility in a public announcement.“Once,” said Dume. “On that particular day, he took two of our villagers and used them as bait for the Muaka he was hunting in the forest. They both survived, but neither of them ever went into the forest again after that, and one of them has only one arm.”There was silence for a moment. Naiphak shook his head, still confounded after all these years on how Mata Nui could have appointed such depraved beings as rulers. Tolek had opined in past discussions that the Barraki were once good and just beings, but had become corrupted by power and greed, while Tyothis vehemently argued that the Barraki had always had souls of rot, and that they just became more inept at concealing that rot.After a few minutes, Dume said, “I’m going to send out Apher to check in with the others.” He went from his spot in the bleachers and hopped over the bottom wall into the courtyard. “Apher!” he called to his teammate, “Go check in on the others! Report any suspicious activity.”“Yes sir!” came her reply. The Toa of water took her staff, running over to the side entrance, before disappearing into the darkness of the indoors section of the arena.Naiphak came from behind Dume to stand beside him. “It looks like we have a quiet afternoon ahead of us, Dume.”“As a wise being once said,” said the Toa of fire, “’never assume.’” * * * Apher had a pretty clear view in marketplace. After all, she, like the majority of Toa, stood about the same size as one Matoran standing on another’s shoulders. Thus, even though the crowd swarmed around her like ocean waves, she had no trouble wading about in it. At least I could swim in the ocean, thought Apher. She missed her hometown, a little fishing village about thirty kio southwest of Fe-Koro. But when the call came for local Toa to band together in order to protect the Southern Continent from rouge Barraki soldiers, she knew that she had to go.In her three months as a member of the Toa Sudak, she had wrestled ash bears, vanquished bandits, and mediated every argument among the team from who should be leader to who had to clean the armory. Apher understood the need for a peacemaker, but often tired of her unofficial role. At least things have been mostly peaceful this month.Out of the corner of her eye, Apher spotted Tolek stacking some crates. “There,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “good as new.”“Thank you, Toa Tolek,” said a Fe-Matoran standing next to a pile of smashed bula berries. “Now, go to Karzahni.”Tolek sighed, rumbling along in a different direction, but brightened when he saw Apher. “Sister!” he said, moving quickly toward her. Tolek stood about a head taller than Apher, and wore a bronze Kanohi Hau, the mask of shielding. “What’s the word?”“Dume just told me to check in on all of you,” replied Apher. “Any suspicious activity?”“None,” said Tolek, patting the horn he carried around his neck. “We all know what to do in case of an emergency, though.” He noted a dented portion of her torso armor. “How’s stave practice going?”“Better than wrestling last week,” said Apher, glancing down at her own horn. “Thanks for asking.”Apher continued over to Juin, the Toa of Ice, currently in deep conversation with Turaga Settu.“…and furthermore, Turaga, it would be irresponsible to leave the surrounding villages perpetually unattended," said Juin.“But,” said the Turaga from behind his Kanohi Miru, “this village’s mines are more important to the larger economy than any other in the region.”“Yes, I understand that,” came Juin’s reply, “but if the other municipalities fall prey to bandits and the like, there won’t be any ‘larger economy’ to worry about!”Perfect, thought Apher, another quarrel for me to squelch. Taking a deep breath, she approached the two debaters and addressed them both, saying, “Turaga, Juin, what in Mata Nui’s name are you two arguing about?”“We, dear sister,” said Juin in his dulcet tones, “have been discussing the merits of having all the Toa bottled up in Fe-Koro, or else spreading out to patrol our own sections of the countryside.”“Which is my decision, Toa,” interjected Turaga Seetu. A grizzled veteran with a pitted gray Miru, he and the Toa, including Dume, were often at odds on how to best run the southwestern region of the Southern Continent.“There hasn’t been an attack on the village in over a month!” cried Juin. The Toa of ice was so agitated that his Great Komau began to shake. “And besides, the cost alone to house all of us-”“Juin,” said Apher, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but aren’t you supposed to be on patrol at the mines?”“The mi-?” said Juin, completely forgetting the argument. “Er, truly, I have neglected my duty. I shall go at once.” The Toa of ice turned towards the gate, but not before leaving a final word for the Turaga. “We aren’t yet finished, Turaga. Dume agrees with me, and he said you both would discuss this matter in detail at another ti-”“Get to your post!” yelled the aged Turaga. “Remember the three virtues! Unity, duty, destiny! In the interest of unity, do you duty, or your destiny will be to polish my staff with your tongue!”Apher eyed Seetu’s worn walking staff as Juin went on his way out. It was made out of the finest iron, with a large green gem embedded in the top.“Thank you, by the way,” said Seetu to Apher. “I thought I’d never get rid of him. Rookies, think they know everything because they went to some fancy school.”“You’re welcome sir,” said Apher, “but I didn’t do it for you. I’m interested in the unity of this team, but I’ll leave the management to our leaders.”“Yeah, yeah, sure,” said Seetu, walking away to his shelter. "Turaga Jovan, he'd like you." He glanced over his shoulder before going in out of the bright sunlight.Apher continued over to the bottom of the wall near Zima, the Toa of electricity. “Anything to report?” she called.Zima looked down and made chopping motion with her hand, and then walked along.“Alright then,” shouted Apher. “Thanks, I guess.”Apher’s last stop to make to was at Tyothis’ post. The old fellow sat in the shade, allowing two Fe-Koro guardsmen to do most of the work. His spear was stuck in the ground next to him, but his shield remained strapped to his front arm.“Toa Tyothis!” she called, walking up to the aged Toa. “How are things at the front gate?”“Just fine and dandy,” said Tyothis. He got up, stretched his muscles, and adjusted the shield mounted to his arm. He then took his spear and walked over to Apher. The gate was empty now, but was generally busier in the morning and evening.“How’s staff practice going?” said the Toa of fire.“Good, good,” said Apher. “Any suspicious activity to report?”“Well,” said Tyothis, “we had one wagon with a load of something metal in a box, but it turned out to just be a bunch of iron nails. We had another feller’ with a small herd of Mahi, but they were all right, though one of them-”“Caravan!” shouted the lookout in the tower next to the gate. An ussel cart pulling a cage on wheels, containing a snorting Kane-Ra bull, came towards the gate. A Le-Matoran drove the cart, a Ga-Matoran and a Po-Matoran sitting alongside him.“Well, what have we got here?” said Tyothis. He went over to the cart as the two Fe-Matoran guards ordered it to come to a stop. “You got a license for this here Kane-Ra bull?” said the Toa of fire to the Le-Matoran.“I beg your pardon,” said the Le-Matoran from behind a teal Noble Komau, “but the great Janbar does not have a license! He is wild, untamed, the greatest of his kind, and I, Boroval, am the only one who can tame-”“Do you or do you not have a license?” interrupted Tyothis. Tyothis had little patience for pomp of any kind, and was at this moment not liking this Boroval one bit.“We have a license,” said one the Po-Matoran, pulling a stone tablet from his pack. “Here, sir Toa.”Tyothis examined the license. It was worn and a little crumbled, but it was valid. “See about renewing the thing soon,” he said, handing the tablet back to the Po-Matoran.Meanwhile, Apher noticed that the bull was becoming more and more agitated. It moved crazily about in the cage, eyeing its surroundings with venom.“Rahi like the Kane-Ra bull need open fields and pasture land,” opined Apher. “It’s going mad in that cage.”“Fear not, fair water maiden,” said Boroval majestically. “In the arena, before me, this beast is a gentle as our ussel crab. Come, see our show tomorrow night and-”“Move along,” said Tyothis, waving his spear. The cart moved along, but the bull continued to stare at Tyothis. It snorted, and charged against the bars, the impact shaking the cart and nearly sending the Ga-Matoran over the side.“Sirs!” shouted Apher. “Your bull seems to be extremely agitated. I would advise that you leave the village and-”It was too late. The Kane-Ra bull slammed its head against the bars of its cage a second and final time before they were broken loose from the wooden frame. The bars clattered onto the ground as the bull jumped from the cart, moving around, looking for something to charge at. It spotted Tyothis, standing in his dusty red armor, shield and spear at the ready. The Kane-Ra bull let out a bellow, and began to summon its strength for a charge.Apher was glued to her spot in abject horror at the situation. But training took over, and she reached for her horn, put it to her lips, and blew. * * * Dume looked up from his sparring match with Hain, the distinct sound of the alarm horn echoing throughout the village. “Go!” he shouted. “It’s the alarm!”The three Toa, Dume, Naiphak, and Hain, raced to the armory to retrieve their Toa tools. Dume took his Ember Blade from its spot, Naiphak his mace, and Hain his sword and shield.“Hain!” said Dume. “Scout the situation!”Hain nodded, knowing that now was not the time for wisecracks. In a blur of green, he rushed from the armory with the power of his mask of speed, and was back again in an instant.“Kane-Ra bull in the market place,” he said, catching his breath as he did. “Tolek, Apher, and Tyothis are trying to keep it in one place, but their efforts aren’t going to hold up for long.”“We’ll settle that!” declared Dume. “Here’s the plan. I and Naiphak will distract the Rahi. Kane-Ra bulls are agitated by the color red, so it will naturally charge at me. Hain, you get Zima, she has the mask of Rahi control. Now go!”“Yes sir!” said Hain, before departing once more.“We’ll distract the beast?” said Naiphak to Dume, trying to keep pace with his leader’s stride.“Yes,” said Dume, igniting his sword. “Your Kanohi Calix might just come in handy.”The two came out of the stadium, finding a largely deserted market place. Most of the Matoran had bolted themselves into their homes, only a few cowering in the shadows while a despairing opera played out before them.Apher was attempting to use her mask of strength to wrestle the Kane-Ra bull to the ground. Tolek was apparently trying to wall the bull in, his lack of success betrayed by several broken stone slabs jutting out of the ground. Tyothis was standing his ground across from Tolek, with Apher and the Kane-Ra between them, but limping. He had his spear couched beneath his arm, his shield over his torso. An overturned cart lay off to the side, on Tyothis’ right.Dume waved his sword at the bull, prancing about on his toes. “Rahi, come forth!” he yelled, swishing his blazing sword back and forth. Naiphak for his part slammed his mace into the ground.Apher looked at Dume, her eyes screaming, Are you insane?“Let go, Apher! I have a plan!” shouted Dume. “Trust me!”Apher nodded, and then let go.The charging Kane-Ra bull galloped in Dume’s direction, snorting, growling even, its eyes full of hate and rage. Dume looked it right in the eye, fully intending to leap out of the way at the last possible second, to play a game of cat and mouse with the bull- when it suddenly stopped.Naiphak looked to the right, and saw Zima coming forward with her hand outstretched, her mask glowing from use. The Kane-Ra bull stopped as though on a leash, digging its hooves into the ground to stop its charge. It then proceeded to turn around, slowly rumbling towards Zima, before collapsing into a sitting position.“Sleep,” commanded Zima. The bull lowered its head and closed its eyes.Dume hadn’t been happier to see his fellow Toa any day before now. “Perfect, Zima!” he called. “Tolek! Make a pit for the beast.”As Tolek did as he was ordered, Dume spotted Juin arriving from the direction of the gate. Tyothis, meanwhile, had dropped his spear, and was leaning on Apher. “Juin!” called Dume, “Help Apher move Tyothis to his shelter! He is injured!”“Yes sir!” came the reply from the Toa of ice. Discarding his blade-staffs, Juin took Tyothis’ shield arm, and walked off with him towards Tyothis’ hut, not far from their current location.While all of this was going on, Matoran began to stream out of their homes, slowly filling up the area. Naiphak quickly created an iron fence to surround the bull pit, while Tolek and Zima directed curious Matoran away from it.Turaga Seetu came through the crowd, led by Hain, and approached Dume and Naiphak. The four beings stood, starring at each other in an awkward silence. Then, Seetu shouted, “Three cheers for the Toa Sudak, who have saved our village on this day!”The crowd of Matoran burst into applause, cheering and clapping in an excited manner which Dume had never before seen in the village’s populace.“Sudak! Sudak! Sudak!” they cried with all of their might. Dume could only stand and wave approvingly, Naiphak and Hain doing the same.“Turaga!” said a voice next to Dume. “Turaga Dume! Turaga Dume!” * * * Suddenly, Turaga Dume woke up.He looked around, seeing a red face against the dark ceiling. He looked up towards his window. It was night out.“Turaga, sir,” said the Agori attendant. “The banquet is in one hour, and I was told to come and let you know.”“Eh… yes, of course,” said Dume, righting himself into a sitting position on the bed. How long was I asleep? he thought. “I’m sorry, what is your name?” he said to the Agori.“Kyry, sir,” said the fire Agori.Dume adjusted his mask. It had gone crooked as he lay asleep. “Kyry,” he said, “please send for my aide, Aft.”“Yes sir,” said Kyry. He gave a slight nod, and then turned and left the room.Perhaps there is more for me to do yet, thought Dume. What else are old duffers like me for anyway?About ten minutes later, Aft came into Dume’s room. “You sent for me, Turaga?”“Yes, Aft. I want you to prepare a message for Kopeke the chronicler while I go to Raanu’s banquet.” Dume stood up to stretch his legs. He took his cane from its position leaning next to the wall.“In this message,” said Dume, looking Aft in the eye, which was hard because Aft wore a Kanohi Akaku, “tell the chronicler that I wish to share with him my years as a Matoran and Toa, for the sake of posterity. I wish to begin as soon as possible.”“Yes sir,” said Aft, nodding. The fire Matoran bowed, and then left the room.Dume then sat back down on the bed, ready for Kyry to come back to escort him to the banquet. Yes, perhaps there is still a duty for me yet. The End
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