My days of heroism are long over. It has been centuries since I took up a blade in defense of my people, centuries since I led my friends to victory over any foe that dared challenge us. Centuries since my body rippled with muscles, centuries since elemental energy coursed through my veins, ready to burst forth with unstoppable power.
The years since then have been pleasant ones. I lead my people still, though not in battle – my power is found now in wisdom rather than in physical strength. I am an elder now, and, at risk of seeming conceited, a highly revered one. But I am no longer a hero; that role has passed on to another. And I am content with the positions Destiny has placed us in.
Well, usually I am.
The door to my hut creaks open, revealing a Le-Matoran clad in silver armor – this is the captain of our meager guard force.
“Do you… Um, do you know why those… things are… you know…”
I sigh. “No.”
He doesn’t respond. Surprised, maybe that there’s something I don’t know. But Rahi the size of buildings aren’t really my specialty.
“Do you have anything to report?” I ask, almost fearing the answer.
“Well…” He swallows. “The first two haven’t done much in the past two hours, but Spirit knows when they’ll decide some more of us need to crushed into Kanoka.”
“The first two?”
“There’s… there’s another, sir. A big bear sort of thing, but it’s gotta be triple the size of any bear I’ve ever seen. It… it destroyed Derrus’s house, grabbed him, and–” He closed his eyes and gave a quick shake of his head before regaining his composure. “It’s just sitting there now, sir.”
“And how are our forces addressing the threat?”
He gave a short, humorless chuckle. “Sir, our ‘force’ is fifteen men strong, as you well know. It was never designed to handle anything stronger than a stray thief or two. Karz, even if we did have the numbers, we haven’t got the training. None of them have ever had any real experience, you know, against real enemies that really want to kill you. Me and Talara are the only ones who’d even have an idea of what to do against one of those things, and I’m not sure if even she could put a dent in any of them. They’re just two #### big.” He pauses, catching his breath, and his expression changes suddenly as though the weight of what he’s saying has only just struck him. “When is she supposed to be back?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head. “Whenever she feels–”
A deafening roar cuts me off, and the Matoran offers only a brief salute before scurrying out the door.
I stare after him, thinking. Because, see, he’s wrong. There’s someone else around who’s been in battle.
I step out onto the street and close my eyes, reaching out for power that hasn’t seen use in centuries. When I open them again, my hut is two stories beneath me. I smile faintly. I’d almost forgotten how much fun the Mask of Growth could be.
I guess it’s time to be a hero again. Or die. Yeah, probably that. But I like the first one better. We’ll go with that.
Edited by Baltarc, Aug 09 2013 - 10:59 PM.