The Legacy Poll: Remembrance

[Velox]

Vote here for your favorite Legacy story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on June 10th at 4:59 AM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Legacy Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 12th round preliminary poll.

• [*]The Tale of Adota ~~~ There was once a tale, told by the bone hunters in cold, windy nights when the desert froze a bandit to the very core. It was a story about the mightiest of the mighty, the most skilled bladesmaster in the land… Adota, and her Blades of the Twin Moons. ~~~ She was a sight to behold, in armour as black as the deepest chasm and hair of the same light-absorbing hue. Her crimson eyes burned like roaring flames from a pillage, and her skin was criss-crossed with dark reminders of foes that had crossed her. Needless to say, none had lived to tell the tale. She stood atop her Rock Steed; a pale, ferocious beast that snapped at the other members of her party. They knew from experience to stay well back from her, especially in the mood she was in. She stared off into the horizon, silent, still. Finally, she uttered one word. “Caravan.” The other raiders stirred in their saddles. It was time to ride, but one hunter, a weedy kid with no experience with Adota, whimpered, “But that’s a Skrall caravan! They’ve got too many guards!” The woman narrowed her eyes at the boy, and to the surprise of her raiders, she laughed. “Silly child. The Skrall have no chance against us. Follow my lead!” And, without so much as a flick of the reins, her steed galloped off, and the others were at full speed behind her. The Skrall watched her come. They drew their weapons, grinning. But then, holding her reins in her teeth, she drew two curved, wicked blades from the scabbards strapped to her back. Her legendary Blades of the Twin Moons. Flashing like lightning, they cut through the armour of the closest Skrall like a dagger through parchment. She drew back and kicked the warrior away before gritting her teeth, yanking her head back and bringing her Rock Steed around to slice at the next foe. Her raiders were approaching fast, but she had no intention of slowing to leave them some action. Half the Skrall were down by the time the first hunter arrived. The remaining Skrall fell under the onslaught. Finally, after the last of them had either fallen or fled, she stepped down from her steed and to the caravan. She walked out, holding nuggets of exsidian triumphantly. Her fellow bone hunters cheered, and she threw the nuggets at the feet of the youth who had questioned her. “Tell me, child,” she smiled. “What have we to fear?” He gulped, his eyes wide. “B-But Tuma… he will hear of this, and-“ “Have no fear. He cannot catch us, no more than he could catch the desert winds. We are unstoppable, child. We are invincible!” ~~~ Some legends state that, after this attack, she laid siege to Roxtus itself. Others say that Tuma had her captured, and she escaped his grasp with his prized blade. Some say she robbed the Great Beings themselves, and began a pillage against the stars. In any case, the legacy of Adota and her Blades of the Twin Moons will never be forgotten. -------[*]Survivors' Guilt Lesovikk walked wearily along. For three days, he had been fighting with a wounded rock lion. And he had lost. I am a failure, he thought, as he had so many times before. I am worthless. My team was lost, my village was lost, because of me. He was so focused on his own hopelessness, he didn't notice the battle till he was nearly in it. Then a clash of weapons penetrated his haze of self-guilt, and he looked up. A group of six Skakdi was hassling a Matoran wagon. They would rob them, and perhaps worse. Lesovikk's hand tightened on his sword grip. How dare those Skakdi scum... But then long habit reasserted itself. What do I think I'm doing? I'm no Toa. This isn't any business of mine. Besides, I'd just make things worse. And he shrugged and began moving on down the road, ignoring the conflict. But then a new figure appeared. A tall Toa of Fire ran up from the opposite direction. He carried two swords. "Get away from the wagon, robbers!" he called defiantly. Then he saw Lesovikk. "Hey, brother! Give us a hand!" Lesovikk looked at him grimly. He was very young, he thought. Young and naive. He would bet he'd never seen anything worse than a roadside scuffle like this one. Oh well. Less trouble to help him. Lesovikk advanced on the highway robbers. The other's combat skills were raw, but he had potential. They soon drove off the thieves. "They might return," the Toa of Fire suggested. "Should we ride guard?" Lesovikk shrugged again. "I guess I'll tag along." The Toa hesitated, then spoke. "Why didn't you help them earlier? You're a Toa, aren't you?" "No." "I'm a failure. My whole Toa team died by my fault. I have no right to call myself a Toa." The other stared at him. "How did they die?" he asked finally. "What?" Lesovikk said, startled. That was not the normal reaction. "Did they die...like heroes?" "Yes," Lesovikk said angrily. "Of course." "I didn't mean to offend," the Toa said placatingly. "Would you tell me about their deaths?" Lesovikk stared at the road. "A band of Zyglak came to our island. I was their leader, and in the middle of the battle, I hesitated for a second too long. They all died. "Their deaths are on my head. I defeated those Zyglak, but I couldn't bring them back. I am a failure. I cannot pretend to be a Toa." He stopped.. "You make me sick," the other said. "You say you're responsible for their deaths. So what? "You failed once, so now you're exempt from even trying? You can drift along irresponsibly, without any rules applying to you? That's not right. "Your friends were heroes. You have to make up for their deaths. You have to live like them - better, because you have all of them to live for. You have to fulfill their legacy." Now Lesovikk was angry too. "What do you know about guilt, rookie? What do you know about 'legacies'?" The Toa still glared at him. "You're not the only one who's lost their team." "My leader ordered me to escape. I did. But I never saw them alive again. "I've often wondered if I could have saved them. I don't know. But I'm living the way they would have, not crippling myself with guilt. I want to leave behind as good a legacy as I've been given." "Someday, Mata Nui willing, you will hear of me as a Toa who redeemed his past. Remember me then. My name is Toa Lhikan." -------[*]Not Everything ••••• Blood, dirt, sweat, grinding joints. Blurred blackness, muffled sounds. His enemy stood, the crowd jeered. Was this all Trymak’s training had come to? If Gelu were here, he’d be disgusted... and he would be cheering, too. However, he had, for some reason, opted out on watching the match. The Toa of ice grunted, rolling to the side right before his opponent’s blade would have pierced his shoulder. Oh, Spherus Magna had been reformed, and everyone was at peace, for the most part. Still, old habits die hard, and the gladiatorial matches, while slightly tamed, were a massive attraction and competition for all the villages. Atero had been rebuilt, and in the center was a massive arena. The rest was a massive, sprawling city, filled with residents of all the villages; each village had rebuilt itself in an easily accessible location and laid down a road to the central city. Society had quickly found itself to revolve, at least for entertainment purposes, around the tournaments. Every week the villages held their own tournaments for training and qualifying for the monthly tournaments in Atero. The top winners of these, in turn, participated in the yearly Heroes’ War. This had become the biggest event of Spherus Magna, and every ten years past champions were invited to return. If they chose, they could send another fighter in their place, training them personally for the whole year leading up to the event. Trymak was one of those students. Gelu, the champion of a Heroes’ War long ago, had chosen the spry Toa as his trainee. Instead of conventional training, they travelled as merchants around the world. At first, Trymak was disappointed and ready to leave Gelu, but he realized soon that their travels were more important than he thought. He didn’t fight daily, but Gelu entered him in whatever village’s match was happening when they were in town. He learned the fighting styles of everyone, and though at first he often lost, he quickly learned to think fast. This was the year of the Heroes’ War. Trymak had found himself in the second to last match and, after a vicious fight with a Glatorian of Tajun, he was placed into the final bracket. Now he faced the champion of Tesara, Gresh. He still entered into these tournaments, and constantly showed his skill in battle. Despite having been in the sport for centuries, the Glatorian was as energetic and strong as ever. He was, in fact, a very difficult opponent to face. This difficulty was becoming all too apparent. Trymak was, to say the least, getting his posterior handed to him. It was all he could do to not get bested in the first few seconds. Gresh seemed to be everywhere, not missing a step in his dance around the Toa of ice. Wiping blood from his lips, Trymak deflected Gresh’s blade with the grip of his war hammer. A rather unconventional choice of a weapon against a fast opponent, he knew. But I he could get one hit in, it would be over. Well, it was pointless. It wasn’t all about winning, it was about the experience. Thus, completely exhausted, Trymak threw up his hands and fell to his knees. ------[*]Celebration Day The Matoran danced merrily, intoxicated by the overwhelming feelings of excitement and happiness that came with every celebration, dragging the Toa with them without a care in the universe. They spun and cheered with abandon. Their only care was to enjoy the moment, and at that they most certainly succeeded. Propelled for an instant to the edge of the crowd, Toa Vihrii detached himself. He took his leave then, waving casually as he walked away. The thud of drums and cheerful shouts of Matoran carried even to the very edge of the village. As he walked through the gate he spied the two Turaga, telling their stories as usual, to those few Matoran with less taste for the frivolities of celebration day. “Going somewhere, Toa?” Asked a kindly voice behind him. “Turaga Kerhel! I did not see you there,” Vihrii said, turning. Kerhel laughed. “Evidently. I would walk with you, if you will permit it.” “Gladly.” The two of them strolled away from the village. They were silent for a while, until Vihrii could stand it no longer. “Why am I here, Turaga? I feel I could do so much more.” “Not every Toa is destined to be part of great battles and famous deeds,” Kerhel said. “You have protected us well, defended us from every threat, but you are uneasy. You are not yet satisfied. Am I correct?” Vihrii stopped, a downcast look in his eyes. “I am a Toa. I thought I was destined for more than fighting off the occasional Rahi or wrongdoer.” Kerhel lent on his staff and looked deep into Vihrii's eyes. “You will not be listed among the great heroes of our age. But your legacy is still one of heroism and bravery. You have fought for us and expected nothing in return. You have stayed among us, though distant shores may seem greener. You have always done what is right, even though your heart yearns for greater callings. To do that, to act against your own desires each and every day, is bravery in itself. It is a small legacy, in the grand scheme of things, but one to be proud of.” “But Turaga. There are greater evils out there, I know it. Surely I could be of more use fighting them?” Vihrii replied, half pleading. Kerhel shook his head. “Though many great evils beset the world, it is an evil in itself to forget that smaller problems also need fixing. You have persevered and dealt with them admirably. There are heroes enough to deal with the greater threats. But without people like you, helping the ones those heroes forget, they would have no one left to protect. Do not let the smallness of your deeds diminish your importance. You are a great Toa. One I am proud to know.” Vihrii thought for a while on the Turaga's words. “I, shall need more time to consider this. You are right, but how can I change the yearnings of my heart?” “It is a hard thing, to be content with less than you desire,” Kerhel sighed. “You must learn to appreciate all that you have, however small. Every part of your life has value, but it is for you to realise what it is. Once you learn to see all that your life means to you, perhaps then you will be content.” “I shall try, Turaga. Where do you think I should start?” Kerhel chuckled. “It is celebration day. There is only one place to be.” ------[*]Claw The archeological dig had lasted a week thus far. New Bara Magna had already sent home two Agori due to heat stroke; Timar was now left with only five Agori and three Glatorian. That was okay; the dig would still go on. His team had thus far dug a hole, four square meters in area, roughly half a meter down. The excavation site was positioned between two mountains; the shade was welcome, but the air itself was too hot to warrant a large temperature difference compared to the sun-baked desert. One hundred millennia had gone into the making of New Bara Magna, which now covered roughly forty square kilometers — a small desert, doubtless, but still dry as bones. What lay under the sands was a mystery, hence Timar’s expedition. The Jungle Glatorian himself filled the role of helpful supervisor, rounding the dig site and providing assistance where needed. Small fragments of pottery and metal armor lay on a cloth under a tent so the sun wouldn’t crack or otherwise damage them. Peculiar how fragile artifacts could be, even when protected from external wear and tear by the rock and sands that surrounded it in a cradle... “Sir? Timar?” The speaker was a Fire Agori, Kane. Beside him knelt the Water Glatorian Ragu, dusting off something embedded in the rock. A metallic glint showed between the granules of sand. Timar made his way to the object pronto. “What have you found?” he asked. Kane shrugged. “We don’t know yet. We were hoping you could help identify it.” The cleaning process was tedious. Fossilization — the result of strong pressure from surrounding minerals — leeched much of the strength out of artifacts; this excavation was running on money, which meant the less money available, the less there would be on which to run, and intact artifacts meant money. Timar’s assistance only accelerated the process fractionally, but the widening glimpse of metal under the dust thrilled him more than he would admit. Perhaps he had found something never before uncovered; perhaps his were the first eyes to lie upon its entirety. The artifact, as the three discovered, was a metal piston seemingly torn from its mount on something else metallic. “I don’t know what it is,” Timar said. “It could be anything, considering how shallow our dig site is.” He stood with a frown. “I’m passing the drinks around,” he said, stepping to the edge of the dig site. “You two kee—” His sentence was interrupted by his abrupt fall. His foot, trapped by some projection, acted as a pivot to swing Timar’s face into stone. Luckily, the Jungle Glatorian was wearing his helmet; unluckily, the fall still hurt like blazes. He rolled over with a grunt. Kane had already pounced upon the object. “It’s dusty,” he said; “pretty worn down, too. But it’s definitely metal.” He began chipping away at the rock, each ting of his chisel ringing in the hot desert air. After a minute of watching, Timar hefted himself to his knees and assisted. The heat was beginning to die as the sun slipped toward the horizon, but neither Agori nor Glatorian noted the change. By the time Ragu came back from polishing and storing the piston, the item was half-uncovered. A clawed hand reached through the sand. A row of spikes ran into the ground; a toothed mouth was open in a last cry. The figure was yellow, with dead eyes and a reptilian appearance. Kane mouthed the word Rahkshi. Timar nodded and, as he went to get the drinks, gestured for Kane and Ragu to continue excavating. ------

[Toa of Dancing]

3, again I like the start but not the end.

[Aderia]

I voted 2, the contrast between Lhikan and Lesovikk was well played.

[Excelsior]

I voted for 4. I didn't really see as much of a "Legacy" element in the other entries.And thanks, Aderia. Yeah, until I wrote that, I'd never thought of comparing them, but there are some interesting parallels.May the best story win!-Excelsior

[Ballom Nom Nom]

I voted 2, the contrast between Lhikan and Lesovikk was well played.

Same here. I actually wasn't aware of Lhikan's inital history as a Toa, so the ending also took me a bit by surprise.~B~

[Velox]

Voted for #2.

[Legolover-361]

I nulled. I couldn't decide between Entry 2 and my entry.

[Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa]

These were all great stories, and I wish I could vote for each one of them. But I do only have one vote, and I feel it belongs to #4. Good luck to all!

From the desk of Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

[Velox]

Polling period over; poll closed.