Hey, guys and gals! I finally got around to writing a story and decided to work on a topic I thought up quite a while back: it was a disillusioned Matoran reflecting on burning down his village, but I changed it to become more of a Velika origin story (to explain his current killing spree). It's my first story in a while (school essays dull my writing skills considerably ) and I understand that this will most likely not be a very good work. I had fun writing it, though, so I guess that counts for something. Enjoy!
I'm sitting here, looking at the ruins of Le-Kawi. Rubble, still smoldering with the odd tendrils of smoke, litters the once beautiful jungle floor. Ash, its blackness permeating the pure green of the leaves that fell from the canopies, is responsible for the crunching sound emanating from the footsteps of the weeping.
At the moment, the only thing I can think of is...well, nothing.
No one knows who or what was responsible for the devastating fire that took the homes and lives of many. Some say it was the Kardas Dragon, a mythical beast that once guarded the Mask of Life.
Others say it was the Kanohi Dragon, come from the labs of a few crazy Makuta who decided to make life a living Karzahni for the rest of this universe's inhabitants.
Oh, for Mata Nui's sake, get your head out of a Madu fruit! It was obviously the Tahtorak! Have you SEEN that thing? It rampaged through Metru Nui like a Gukko Bird after a berry!
And then you have the small group of conspiracists. And of course, they're pinning it on someone from among us. Don't you see? It's all so clear, it HAS to be one of us, it was an inside job! And even if it wasn't one of us, then it was from Ta-Kawi. And so on and so forth, with their twisted view of politics and social policies.
Funny how it's always the crazy ones that end up right. Reminds me of the time people believed that the world is round because you can't see anything past a certain point, therefore the world must be curving. Guy comes up, yells that the world's flat because you CAN see everything, just that our draw distances are too low. He lives in a cave now, drive to madness by the laughter of his peers, but turns out he was right: there's an outer boundary to this world, and it's flat since you can see the other side via telescope. Guess the astronomers over at Ko-Metru better reposition their telescopes every now and then.
But I digress. Point is, it's the conspiracists who are right: it was one of us. Can't say who, that would violate my code of confidentiality. I'm sworn to secrecy, and I won't say who did it. All I will say is that no one suspects him.
Turaga's looking stressed, he's being harassed by his adviser to initiate war with Ta-Kawi. Tensions between us have fired up recently, pardon the pun, and we were just about ready to go to war with Ta-Kawi anyways. You don't just let a sister village block off your supply chain; we needed those resources to fashion taming instruments and form supports for our tree huts. Just because we've been running low on Bula berries and Vuata Maca doesn't mean you shut off our main resource line.
You can tell he doesn't want to fight Ta-Kawi. Him and the fire Turaga never really got along, but they worked together for the sake of keeping the villages alive. That, and he's a pacifist: he wouldn't let us form armor for our Gukkos or create weapons of any sort. Now, though, things are different. Our current supports are failing, and we're running low on tamed Rahi. We may just have to go to war.
But he isn't going to do anything until the adviser stops blabbering on heatedly. Turaga sends him away and asks for some time to think, then spots me sitting. Calls me over. I'm relatively close to him since we used to be best buddies before he became a Toa. After that, we don't talk much, but I go regardless.
What do I think we should do? I don't know, but maybe going to war with Ta-Kawi wouldn't be such a bad idea. You've been a Toa, you know how to fight and how to lead. Sometimes people will need to fight, and you're no longer bound by the Toa Code.
He argues the point that no one needs to die over petty things such as supports and instruments, not with half the village gone. I counter by saying that unless we get both, we're dead anyways: either the rest of the village, weakened by the searing heat, falls to the ground and we all die, or the Rahi pick us off and we are forever remembered as the best meals them carnivorous Gukko ever had.
And after all, wasn't he the veteran of a hundred battles? Did he not remember what happened to Lesovikk when his team died because he failed to save them? Did he not understand the necessity of sacrifice in the name of saving many? War is a reality he must face, and he knows all about how to win it. He shouldn't let his honor be stained because he stood around while the remnants of his village fell to the ground.
He should remember what happened when he neglected to kill the Doom Vipers that wiped out his entire team, and try and prevent a similar fate from happening here.
That gets him. His eyes become steely, resolved. His agreement to war should be more shocking than if the Turaga of Metru Nui was revealed to be a Makuta, but at the moment, the only thing I can think of is...well, nothing. Again.
He thanks me for my advice and walks away, no doubt preparing one of his elaborate speeches to rally the Matoran together under one cause. I walk away too, except in the opposite direction.
It takes me a while, but I get there. A cave, dark and damp, populated with tiny Nui-Jaga and maybe a few corpses.
I step in. The dampness rushes over me, but it's a feeling I've gotten many times.
There's only one inhabitant, a Po-Matoran with a few drill tools. Poor guy's been here for years.
He's still gone crazy from the internal annihilation he suffered for his views.
And as I've said, it's always the crazy ones that end up right.
“Did you do it?”
Yes, I burnt half the village down. Controlled fire, not a tough task. Enough to incite the villagers and force a war between two tribes. The other half will collapse in a few days time, as you wished.
“Good, good. Have some more of this.”
He hands me the same vial he's given me thrice before; it's filled with a green substance that seems almost...alive. I down it in one gulp, get that same euphoria and energy I did the past times. Get that same loss of senses. Get that same feeling of obedience. I will follow this madman to the ends of the world and back, along the solid wall boundaries, and I will do everything he says.
“Those fools. I came here to observe MY creations, and they LAUGH at me. At their CREATOR. Well, not much of a problem. Before long, everyone will know Velika is not someone to be trifled with. And they. Will. Pay.”