Reparation

[The Marlfox]

Chapter 1: Contemplation and VisitationTuraga Bana sat in his small cabin on the outskirts of the city. It was small and simple, just the way he liked it. He sat at his desk with a formidable stack of stone tablets. The small pyramid of lightstones wobbled dangeroussly as he shifted the stand a bit closer. Squinting, he was finally able to make out the scratching on the tablet. He’d taken from the archives a list of all the known Toa in the universe. The list was in no particular order, so only time and determination would find the Turaga and his dimming eyesight the entry he looked for. This wasn’t the first time Bana wished he had the ability to use his Noble Akaku to aid in his readings. He was looking for a particular name. His own, to be specific He was not self-obsessed, or narcissistic. No, his problem was that he couldn’t remember. Almost five decades ago, a group of beach-going Matoran from the small city on the Northern Continent had found him washed up on their shore. He was unconscious, and so they took him to the hospital. It took him almost a week and a half to wake up entirely, as in be able to function and talk coherently. When he was fit to be interviewed, it was quickly established that he honestly didn’t remember how he got to the island, what he did before that, where he came from, or any other bits of his past. Bana had no memory of his time as a Toa, or anyone who might have known him. The only thing he remembered was being a Matoran, vaguely. The ruling elders, three Turaga,, had given him a place on their Board of leadership as a courtesy, expected of them by the Matoran. Even so, and even after fifty years, Bana still didn’t feel like he fit in. Anywhere. And that led him to his isolated and discontent life spent on the fringes of the city, interrupted only by Board meetings and daily walks for his health. And the occasional visit from a medical Matoran. Once in a blue moon, one of the other Turaga or a Matoran bringing a messsage. “Turaga Bana!” The shout from his open doorway startled him, and as he jumped up, Bana knocked over his lightstone stand, sending the stones flying, causing the shadows to dance erratically.The speaker, a Ta-Matoran, scrambled to help his Turaga pick up the glowing rocks. As he worked, he said, “Turaga Tride and the others sent me to fetch you. They said to bring you quickly. You have a visitor.”

***

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Edited May 17, 2012 by Baby Banana

[The Marlfox]

Chapter 2: Conversation and Transformation Leaning heavily on his staff, Turaga of Stone, Bana, made his way to the Board building in the center of the city. The head Turaga, Tride, a Turaga of Iron stood stoically in the entrance hall. The two other Turaga, stood behind him. Bana could picture them as a Toa Team easily. He wished he could say the same for himself. “Turaga Bana, you have a guest. He says he knows you,” Tride cut right to the chase. “He’s in the meeting chamber.” “I don’t get a choice as to whether or not I want to receive this visitor?” Bana wanted to know. “No, you don’t. If he knows you, it might help you remember your past.” Tride told him. “Of course, Turaga,” Bana murmured. It was no secret that the other Turaga didn’t trust him still, but it still stung to see the mistrust so blatant in their eyes, and hear it in their voices. He didn’t blame them, though. Only himself. He sat silently at the biweekly meetings, never offering input, objection, or support. He holed himself up in his home on the outskirts of the city ninety percent of his time. Bana was surprised that they didn’t suspect him of spying or anything. Or maybe they did. On the inside, Bana didn’t want to be a sullen, reclusive Turaga. But something wouldn’t let him break out of his shell. Maybe Tride was on to something, and this person who claimed to be from his past would break that shell. Turaga Bana nodded curtly as he shuffled past the other Turaga. His plain wood and metal walking staff clumped on the tile floor as his third leg.

***

“Hello?” Turaga Bana called softly as he pushed open to the door to the Meeting Chamber. It was a heavily walled room on three sides, but the last wall was basically just one giant window. Since it was nighttime though, the light came from the lightstone lanterns lining the walls instead of the Suns. When Bana stepped fully into the room, he saw a figure sitting in one of the chairs along the squat wooden table. “It is good to see you,” The person said. “Do I know you?” The Stone Turaga asked, not in a rude way, since this person could very possibly know him. “No, you do not. And strictly speaking, I do not know you. Would it seem too forward of me to ask that you accompany me?” The person had a hood over his mask, and it was impossible to tell if he was jesting or not. “Yes, it would,” Bana replied. “I thought so,” The figure gave a small chuckle and rose, walking towards the door. “It will just be a nice walk on down to the beach. I can tell you about your past.” The figure was about half the height of a Toa, but nothing else seemed definite about it in the uneven shadows of the room. But Bana did not sense anything malicious about this individual. Naturally, he was dying to learn about himself. Self-analysis and meditation had only gotten him so far in his journey of self discovery, and it was time to take the next step forwards. As the figure walked past the Turaga towards a back exit to the house, Bana followed.

***

“Do you recognize this place?” The being asked, turning to Turaga Bana. “It’s the beach I was found on,” Bana replied. In the spotty moonlight, he saw that his companion had the build of a tall Matoran, and wore a hood over his mask. Despite this, the being still emanated no danger or threat. But that very fact did make Bana a bit suspicious. As though the figure had heard Bana’s thoughts, it spoke again. “Did it ever occur to you, Bana, that going with a complete and utter stranger to a secluded beach at night could be dangerous?” “Of course,” “But you came anyways?” “Because I wanted to learn my history,” “You can learn history from scrolls and tablets,” “I wanted to learn about my history,” Bana clarified. “I trusted that you could enlighten me.” “Good,” His companion turned to face him. “The Great Spirit will reward you for that trust.” “Who are you?” the Turaga demanded. The tone of voice that the stranger used was eccentric in its authority. “This is about who you are, not me. But if it helps you, Mata Nui sent me,” “Are you a prophet?” At this, the being laughed, “No, nothing so important. An apparition, an incarnation, a manifestation.” “Of what?” “Life,” Came the vague, ambiguous reply. “…Oh,” Bana kicked at a wave that rolled up the beach to his feet uselessly. “Bana,” At his name, the Turaga of Stone looked up. The figure had removed the hood, and Bana looked into pure golden eyes set in a plain gray Kanohi Hau. The eyes were unnatural, and they froze the Turaga in place. The being raised a long-fingered hand and touched Bana’s forehead, and then heartlight, much to the Turaga’s shock. “The Great Spirit Mata Nui gives you your life back.” As soon as the words had been spoken, a tremor knocked the sstunned Turaga off his feet, and a flash of lightning from nowhere blinded him. Blinking rapidly, Bana staggered to his feet. He was alone on the beach. More disturbingly, he saw only one undersized pair of footprints, suggesting that he had been alone on the beach the entire time. Bana shook his head, squinting at the small footprints. They were his, obviously, but his own footprints shouldn’t seem so little. Bana looked down and almost fell again. The sight that greeted him wasn’t an old twisted body of a Turaga. It was a strong, broad shouldered, powerful body of a Toa of Stone.