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When Rivers Run Blood


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#1 Offline MayFall

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Posted Mar 23 2012 - 09:35 AM

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Prologue: The Weight of the World

A single candle flickered in the centre of the stone table, its glow illuminating the two Turaga that sat facing each other. As the flame wavered, the light it cast

rippled into the shadows that cloaked the recesses of the vast room.

“Has it really come to this?” The Turaga of water murmured softly.

The other, a Turaga of stone, did not answer immediately, but slowly traced the carvings that covered the surface of the table. At length he looked up, meeting

his companion’s level gaze.

“We both knew that it might, one day.”

Both lapsed into silence again, each lost in they’re own thoughts. The candle burned lower, wax running down the side and forming a small pool next to it on

the table.

“Is it really worth the risk?” The Turaga of water asked, breaking the stillness.

“I don’t know, sister,” the other replied heavily. “But do we have any other choice?”

The Turaga of water made no reply. The Turaga of stone pushed back his chair and stood up.

“Come, it is time.”

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Edited by MayFall, Mar 23 2012 - 02:32 PM.

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#2 Offline MayFall

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Posted Mar 26 2012 - 12:15 AM

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Chapter 1: Awakening

Nothing. The oppressive weight of complete emptiness pressing in, crushing, stifling, overwhelming.

No, that’s not right, he realized. If he could be aware of it, then there must be something to be aware of. He tried to move, but found himself unable to do so. But

it wasn’t nothingness that was confining him, but something hard, cold; stone, he guessed.

Lying still, he strained to hear a sound, anything. But the silence was complete, broken only by his shallow breathing. A sudden have of claustrophobia and

panic washed over him, causing his muscles to seize up involuntarily, and his breaths to come in short, uneven gasps. His chest rose and fell sharply, pressing against his stone prison.

I have to get out of here!

Wriggling and straining with all his might, he pushed outward until he heard a resounding crack, and felt the stone above him shift slightly. He continued to push,

until, with a second, even louder crack, it gave way.

Light. Brilliant, overpowering, blinding. He let out an involuntary gasp of pain, and shielded his eyes with an outstretched arm. Stumbling forward, he tripped,

falling onto the hard ground, and then scrambled upward to his feet again.

Eyes adjusting to the brightness, he examined his surroundings. He was in what looked to be the ruins of some sort of stone castle. He stood in what might have

been a courtyard at one point; around him were crumbling towers, walls, the remains of archways. There was the sound of waves beating against rocks from nearby, and the cry of birds. Turning, he observed his former prison. It was a simple stone box, which rather eerily reminded him of a tomb. How did I get in there?

He stood for a moment, trying to remember something, anything. But there was nothing, his mind felt blank, empty. He looked down at himself, and saw that he

was wearing red armor, armor that was worn, battered, and covered in numerous scars.

I’m a Toa. Yes, that seemed right. A Toa of fire.

But what’s my name? He thought curiously.

Nasch. Of course.

So, Nasch thought, as he looked around again, where am I?

As hard as he tried, however, he seemed to have no recollection of his surroundings. It was then he noticed what appeared to be a hole in the wall behind the

box he had awoken in. Upon closer examination, it turned out to be a small square alcove. He reached in cautiously, and his fingers brushed something inside. Taking hold of it, he carefully pulled it out. The object was long and thin, and wrapped in cloth. He felt a sort of strange curiosity, and unraveled the cloth, to find in his hands a short sword, as well as two long knives, all in leather sheaths. Nasch drew the sword, and examined it. It was fairly simple in design, but had elaborate engravings on the blade. The knives were the same, and all three blades had a hilt guard like an upside down triangle; a set, obviously.

As he swung the blade experimentally, he realized how comfortably it sat in his hand, as though it had been fashioned just for him. Perhaps it was, he thought,

looking at it intrigued. There was something familiar about it, certainly.

After looking at it a moment longer, he returned it to his sheath. He then put them on, the sword appearing to hang comfortably on his back, the knives seeming

to strap to his thighs. He stood, feeling a sense of completeness, a sort of comfort. That’s more like it.

Deciding to explore some more, Nasch came to a set of stairs that were still mostly intact, and climbed them, coming up to a large balcony that overlooked the

courtyard. On the opposite end was a crumbling curved wall, with a large window set into it. He wandered over, the sounds of waves getting louder.

Before him, out the window, a vast expanse of ocean stretched to the horizon. The castle was built on the edge of a cliff, and far below, the waves frothed and

foamed, beating against the cliff face. It was beautiful, the afternoon sun shining off the water, causing it to sparkle and dance.

Then, something caught his eye, and Nasch turned, looking to his right. There, in the distance, he could make out what appeared to be a city.

Well, Nasch thought with a smile, this should be interesting.

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Edited by MayFall, Mar 26 2012 - 12:22 AM.

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#3 Offline MayFall

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Posted Apr 14 2012 - 12:20 AM

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Chapter 2: Fire and Earth

The sun was bright, and a soft wind rustled the tree branches along the side of the road as he walked. He could almost feel the life around him, it was

rejuvenating, energizing, and he had an unquenchable curiosity to simply know, to understand.

Yet there’s so much I don’t understand, he thought with a slight frown. But he knew who he was, at least. Nasch, Toa of fire.

Fire. Nasch grinned, and stretched out his hand. He had not yet tested his power. Not that he had doubted its existence, but it was strange, like trying

something that was both old and new at the same time.

A flame erupted out of his palm, wild, blazing. He could feel the heat, but it was comfortable, soothing. Focusing his energy, he brought it down to a small,

controlled beam, and held it before his face, examining it. Colors danced before his eyes: red, orange, yellow, blue, white.

Old and new, all at once.

“Hail Toa!” A voice called from the wall.

Nasch shielded his eyes in an attempt to see who was yelling at him. He was able to make out some figures; short, Matoran, he supposed. Odd, he realized. He

knew they were Matoran the same way he had known he was a Toa, or that he commanded the power of fire. Yet still, he had no tangible memories, almost as if there was an unbrechable wall that blocked out certain parts of his mind.

With a loud creak, the two massive stone gates before him began to swing open. As soon as he walked through, he was greeted by a Ta-Matoran who bowed to

him excitedly.

“Greetings Toa, we are honored to have you,” the Matoran said brightly, ushering him forward. You have come from Dathina of course. Do you bring news

then? When can we expect reinforcements?”

Laughing, Nasch stopped, raising a hand. “I don’t have a clue what Dathina is, or what you’re talking about. Let’s start over. Where are we exactly?”

“But…” The Matoran replied confusedly, apparently at a loss for words. “You… We were told…”

“Listen,” Nasch interjected hastily, “I’m not sure who exactly you think I am. But whoever it is, I’m not.”

“I apologize Toa,” the Matoran replied, recovering his ability to form coherent sentences, “It’s just that we were supposed to receive reinforcements yesterday,

so when I saw you, I naturally assumed-”

“Yes, I’m sure the Toa is quite fascinated to hear the details of your assumptions, Turik,” a voice cut smoothly across the Ta-Matoran’s explanation, “but I

believe I can assist him from here.

The voice belonged to an Onu-Matoran, who possessed and air of confidence and control. Walking up, he nodded to Nasch. “My name is Kyre. I am one of the

Selic, personal envoys of the Turaga. Please, follow me.”

Nasch glanced awkwardly at the Ta-Matoran, who looked annoyed at the interruption. “Um, thanks,” he decided to add, before falling into step with Kyre.

“You’ll have to excuse Turik,” Kyre said with a sardonic smile. “But most of us are rather… on edge of late. As I’m sure you have gathered, we are preparing for

battle.”

“He didn’t seem too thrilled about you cutting in,” Nasch commented bluntly, amused.

The Maroran laughed. “Turik is captain of the guard, and has… a certain level of discontentment about submitting to the authority of the Selic. But we are hand

picked by the Turaga to do their bidding, and therefore have a great deal of control over what goes on in the city.

“So… you said something about battle? Nasch asked.

“Oh yes, armies march upon us as we speak,” Kyre replied. “But how is it you are not aware?” He stoped, eyeing Nasch up. “The way you’re armed, you look

ready for battle. Yet you obviously have no idea what’s going on. Where have you come from?”

Nasch smiled. “It’s… complicated. I have lots of questions though.”

“And I have lots of answers,” Kyre replied with his quiet, somewhat sarcastic smile. “Come, I’ll take you somewhere we can talk.”

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