The Legacy Poll: Tribute

[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.

• [*]Empty Chairs at Empty Tables There's a grief that can't be spoken. There's a pain goes on and on. Empty chairs at empty tables Now my friends are dead and gone. Brother, dear brother, it was my time. It was my time to go. It was Mata Nui’s will. Toa live to uphold his will, and so I have no regrets for myself. But my heart goes out to you, brother. To have your team torn away from you, I cannot imagine. Here they talked of revolution. Here it was they lit the flame. Here they sang about `tomorrow' And tomorrow never came. Brother, dear brother, don’t you know that torturing yourself tortures me? You know that living in such endless torment by your own hand is not something I would ever wish upon you. And yet you continue to drown yourself in your guilt, drowning me. If there was any form of comfort I could send across to you, I would do so in a heartbeat. Not to lessen my vicarious suffering, but to start to heal the wounds to your heart. From the table in the corner They could see a world reborn And they rose with voices ringing I can hear them now! The very words that they had sung Became their last communion On the lonely barricade at dawn. Brother, dear brother, please, please understand this. I do not blame you for anything. So why do you? There is no fate but what we make for ourselves. As your sister and friend, I cannot bear to watch you struggle without being able to help. At the same time, as your sister and friend, as well as your star and angel, I must and I do. Oh my friends, my friends forgive me That I live and you are gone. There's a grief that can't be spoken. There's a pain goes on and on. Brother, dear brother, isn’t it shameful? Shameful that just one little moment in time can drown out years and years of companionship? Why must you remember me, remember us, as we lay broken and blood on our last battlefield? I do not think it fair. That single, horrible moment is burned into your mind, making you blind to all the wonderful times we had as a team. It pains me to no end. You knew me, you know me. Would the Nikila you knew, the Nikila you know, want you to remember her forever in her weakest and last moments of life? Would any of us want that? I know you know the answer. Phantom faces at the window. Phantom shadows on the floor. Empty chairs at empty tables Where my friends will meet no more. Brother, dear brother, I pray to Mata Nui ceaselessly that he will give you strength to forgive yourself. I can no longer give you my strength, fighting by your side. But I hope that one day, I will still be able to make you smile. One day, when you can finally recall the times we had as a team, laughing and living life to the fullest. Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me What your sacrifice was for Empty chairs at empty tables Where my friends will meet no more Lesovikk, dear brother, there is one promise I can give. We will wait for you.

(*Lyrics from Les Misérables) -------[*]Vitium meo natura. I have lived for so long, and my soul has seen so much. But when the fundamental questions flow against you, age fades away, and only your bare essence remains, your spirit to bend or stand firm, hold or break. So it was with me, a scientist and thinker, a warlord and a conqueror. A makuta. Old beyond my years, I was often called, even though I was of one of the wise races. So it would seem that I was strong enough in intellect. Yet when the question flowed, I felt as unprepared as a newly made matoran. Blood upon my hands, blood upon my soul. I was unwilling, yet willing in all my actions. Fear of my fellow makuta some might say. But it ran deeper. I was not weak, yet I was. For what was I? What was anyone? Questions, questions that needed answering. I pondered them, even as I experimented, even as I slaughtered. Sometimes it checked me before I could send an army or pour in a vial. I always asked myself 'what was I doing?' only to answer with that unaswerable question: what was I? That question surfaced in a flood when my race split. I knew the right, I knew where to go. I could see my body as it moved to the side, the side where I did not want to be, where I could not be. It taunted me as I watched the greatest of my race destroyed in combat by a schemer and supplanted. It beat me as I dragged my leader away, battered and broken; it thrust me through as I bound him with unbreaking chains. What was I? What could I do? My mind wished against what I did, until I wondered if I even had will. Was what I did me, was there a demon within me controlling? No, I concluded, I was controlling myself, but I acted against myself. Then again the question came: what was I? It shook its head at me even as I held the tablet out, talking of mercy for my own deeds. It smiled sadly when I found my mercy spurned, and it laughed its question as I fled from the power of light that burned me. What was I? Energy, some said, others, a spirit. Technical terms, and seeming well for a scientist. But also I am a thinker, and a thinker needs more. As I plotted the question urge me. I seemed to fight myself, obedience to evil against the desperate wish to right wrongs. Could this be me? But no, I concluded that actions were not me. The question raises its eyebrows as the pain fills me, as I slam into the filth, as I drag myself out. Am I a force of pain and horror? The question nagged, but I dismissed it. That was what was attacking me, but I wanted to know what I was. The question silently watched as I tried to warn my brothers of the danger that engulfed us all, and it again shook its head as the hand grasped me in death. I close my eyes, the question fading away as I do. What am I? I am Krika, this day I am sacrifice. This day I am vain sacrifice, but a sacrifice still. My legacy is known to few, but it is a legacy nonetheless. I have fought the fight… But have I lost? No. I have won, although the blood of I and those whom I knew paved my way. A monster not, but a soul chained by a monster. ------[*]Heritable Honor "Wear it with pride, Jala. " "I will, Turaga Vakama." I gazed at my distorted reflection in the silever sphere behind me, admiring my new Hau. "It suits me, I think." "I hope you will honor what the mask symbolizes." I turned. "And what's that?" "Nobility. Bravery. Protection. Can you live up to these precepts?" "I--I think so." Vakama smiled. "I believe you can. In time, I think you will be a hero to your village, for the Three Virtues, and for the legacy of your mask." "I am flattered by your confidence, Turaga. I will do my best to live up to your expectations." "I know you can." I was startled by a strange voice echoing through my mind. I know you will, Jala. The destiny before you burns bright. "Who said that?" Never mind. Just promise me that you will uphold the honor you have been given. No problem there. Confused but confident, I vowed, I will, strange disembodied voice.

* * *

"I am disappointed in you, Jala." "I know, Turaga. I am disappointed in myself." "You failed in your duty to Ta-Koro today. Your negligence put the lives of many villagers in danger today. If Agni had not raised the alarm in time and summoned your guards and fended off that Ranama, someone might have been killed." "I realize this, Turaga. I have failed my duty. And that is why I wish to resign from from my captaincy." Turaga Vakama turned with surprise. "Is that what you wish? To give up?" "N-no, but I----" "Listen to me. You made a mistake. Everyone does. But L--er, your legacy is one that does not give up easily. Learn from your mistake but do not look back. Move on." I bowed my head. "Yes, Turaga." Outside, still scolding myself silently, I heard the voice in my mind. Don't be so hard on yourself, Jala. Listen to Vakama. Learn and move onward. "Shut up!" I hissed, startling a Lava Farmer. Mentally I continued, You're the last one I want to hear right now! You must not allow yourself to be discouraged. That past is over and done with. Look to the future, and to the now; that is where greatness lies. Act there. Shut up! In anger, I tore the mask from my face. It felt like my head was splitting in two. I reeled in pain, my vision blurring, mind dulling. Hastily I put the Kanohi back on my face and fell to my knees, panting. That was foolish. "I'll show you foolish!" Before the day was out I had surreptitiously obtained from a Po-Koro mask carver an almost identical golden Hau. From then on I wore it, free from the responsibility and voice of the inherited Kanohi. I hid the heirloom away, deep in the volcano where I knew it would never be found. It almost felt as if I was hiding a piece of myself. "I'm sorry. But I'm not the hero you think I am."

* * *

I am a Toa now. Many things have changed, and the mask is no longer mine to wear. But I did return to Mata Nui to retrieve it. It is now in my possession, and I will pass it on when and to whom it is destined to be given. I only hope my successor wears it with more pride and respect than I. For it is more than a mere Kanohi--it is the legacy of a great hero. And that is a legacy that will live on forever. ------[*]Tahu's Nightmare Tahu… the whisper came from the darkness around him as he walked; He didn’t shine with the blazing light of fire, but some sort of glow that hung as an aura. He gripped his sword tightly, comforted by the shape of the flames on the blade. The voice was just his imagination… Tahu. “No,” Tahu sobbed. “Die. Why won’t you die? After the thousands that sacrificed themselves to rid the world of you, why won’t you die?” He walked on, his eyes mixed with fury and defeat. Makuta lived. Because the darkness never dies, Toa. I will always live. Your predecessors, your brothers, and your successors- I’ll be with them. In your darkest thoughts, your deepest fears, I am there. My escence is in you, and I live on. Besides, Tahu, what would you be without me? “We fought for a life without you,” Tahu said, his anger coming forth in the flames that leapt from his fire sword. “Be gone, so we can live in peace!” Some day you will meet other evils, whose power is far greater than mine, the voice of the Makuta reverberated through the blackness. And when you meet them, you will finally miss me. The darkness regressed, leaving Tahu in merely shadows. He could see the path he walked on now, a winding tunnel where the flickering orange glow of lightstones eerily lead to the catacomb of caves beyond. He continued his tread, ready to pounce on any attack. Whispers came from further in, and Tahu followed them intently. There were others in this place! The voices were right around the bend, and the Toa of Fire sprinted, catching snippets of two strolling stranger’s conversation. “…but precious little light, it seems... You don’t see…” the short one spoke, guiding the taller one, the illumination of the lightstone he carried blocking Tahu from seeing the pair’s features. He raised his hand in greeting, as if beckoning would bring their attention. They were gone then, merely ghosts of the past, and Tahu was left in the tunnel, alone once more. With the blink of an eye, he stood in the center of a cavern, finished a lengthy tunnel walk that he didn’t travel a step in. Webs veiled the cave, a thick curtain of green-grey slime cutting the room in half. Approaching it, he set his sword in the sticky strands, burning through them. It was his job, as a Toa, to explore, whether he liked what was on the other side or not. The web flared, the fire jumping. Soon it was out of control- Tahu hadn’t even used enough willpower to create that much of a flame! The entire web was on fire now, burning away far too fast. It shriveled and smoked, and when the air cleared on the other side… a dragon of smoke and charcoal flared his nostrils, angrily eyeing its awakener. Claws of fire reached out to grab him, but he was already running. A flame shot out of the dragon’s tongue, melting the rock he hid behind. Ta-Wahi burned like it hadn’t ever before, and the flames brought heated, blurry vision. He had faced this creature before, but it was different, he realized, taking in limited oxygen. It screamed at him like a Rahi telepathically, but there was a sinister undertone in its words. You call this your home? This is MY domain! My territory! I will burn you out, little flame! I—“ Heavily perspirating, Tahu clamped his eyes shut, reminiscing about how he missed the darkness. A chill then ran through him… …and he woke up, sweating. ------[*]The Maskmaker The forge in which he slaved in day after day was stained with the scars of many dropped blobs of molten Protodermis. Its desks and shelves were stuffed hither and thither with various masks, tools, and Kanoka, while the grated floor below had even more storage for those items. Kyanu, arguably the greatest Ta-Matoran mask maker in the history of Ta-Matoran mask makers, picked up his carving tool, feeling its familiar wait in his hand for the last time. After countless years on this job, doing what he loved, he needed to stop. He couldn't think as fast as he used to, he couldn't see quite the same, and it started to feel old. After so long doing one thing, it hadn't gotten boring because, while the concepts were the same, there was so much room for experiment and creativity. Now, however, he could not find pleasure from those things. He thought back to the most memorable moments in his time as a mask maker, back to every moment he could recall that he spent in this forge. He had created masks of all shapes and powers, including, most memorably, his own. While, as a Matoran, he couldn't access the powers of the Great Mask that he wore, he felt an unmistakable buzz. It gave him an edge, or so he liked to think. In part, it was driven by curiosity, because he always wanted to know what happened if a Matoran wearing a Great Mask was turned into a Toa. Kyanu turned his attention from the past, bypassing the present, into the future. It was a future where he was gone. Who would remember him? What parts of his memory would live on into the future? Well, the mask makers would, that was for certain. He had become a celebrity, and they might even engrave his visage in a commemorative Ta-Metru widget. They were the only ones who knew what work went into it, as it seemed like Matoran from all the other Metru thought of the process with either apathy or wonder; they either thought of it as a strict, rigid, and defined process, or as a matter of mystery and superstition. He would be remembered as a mask maker, though, and as a mask maker only. Who he was was defined by what he did, as pretty much everyone was. This is where he found contention with his coworkers, as they were always too interested in what he did or who he was to slow down and really know him, to meet him, to understand that he was a Matoran just like everyone else and that he was an individual too. Mainly, though, he didn't care to think about that. He was proud of the masks that he had made. He had no questions about whether or not he'd be remembered for them, as all masks were engraved with a small code somewhere on its inside. That code was unique to every mask maker, so any Matoran who was curious about his or her mask could simply look up the code. While he'd just be a name in a book, or a file in the Archives, Matoran would still have access to that knowledge. Fondly reminiscing on this, he walked around the forge a few times, laying his tool down for the final time. This forge would be used by another mask maker soon enough, with all the equipment passed along to his successor. Closing down the lights, he exited the forge and locked the door. His legacy, he thought, was already in use. ------

[Grantaire]

NUUUUUU My entry is toast, I voted against it myself.Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, there's nothing else I could vote for. I didn't even bother to look at the other entries, it was so epic. ;.;

[shadow pridak money gang]

I wouldn't be able to sleep soundly at night if I didn't vote Entry 1.-Teezy

[Aderia]

Nulled, I don't wanna vote for myself when I liked all the other entries as well. XP

Edited June 7, 2012 by Zosia Darr

[Excelsior]

I voted for 5.It was hard, because I liked 1, but it didn't really seem to express the theme. It was very good, though, and - despite my own entry for this theme - I'm not generally a fan of Lesovikk stories.But then, this really a Nikila story. You can see she's really in pain from what he's doing to himself.3 was also good. "I will, strange disembodied voice." That was my favorite part.But it was too depressing to think of Lhikan's legacy that way. Hey, Jala! I'm here to invade your privacy and relentlessly tell you to be a hero! "You are so annoying I'm going to pretend to appreciate my legacy, but secretly throw it out, just to shut you up."5 was really the best for this theme, I think.Anyway, may the best story win!-Excelsior

[Ballom Nom Nom]

Number one, easily. Pretty powerful story, I must say.~B~

[Velox]

Voted for number 1. Really a fantastic story, and the fact that it used Les Miserables just made it that much more awesome.Edit: Great, now you've had me looking up Les Mis songs for the past half-hour. =P Augh, seriously, so excited for the movie. Hopefully I can see the play again before then, too...

Edited June 7, 2012 by Velox

[Sumiki]

Hoo boy, I'm getting destroyed, aren't I. Oh well. Bad poll luck. :PVoted for 5, my own, anyway.

[Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa]

My choice is primarily between #1, #2, and #5, though #4 is great too and I admit I'm partial to #3. #1 was very touching and emotional, but I liked the depth of #2 and #5. #2 was my choice.

From the desk of Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

[Velox]

Polling period over; poll closed.