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Memory: Stories Of Mata Nui


VolcanoBakemeat

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It’s all finished, Vakama thought, looking out from his window at the glory that was New Atero.The Matoran had not had peace for this long since the days when they still lived cluelessly and peacefully inside the body of the Great Spirit Mata Nui--perhaps in their entire history. It took a while to get the Original Thousand* from Mata Nui used to living among other species, but after a few years they warmed up to it; there were no real conflicts aside from a few street fights; there was a stable government that he was glad not to be a part of. He had announced his decision not to be part of the Council with none of the backlash he expected, as three of the other Turaga felt the exact same way as he did; the remaining two, Nokama and Onewa, were now sitting high and comfortable in the Coliseum above New Atero, discussing the acquisition of land with a bunch of disgruntled Srakan and Glatorian diplomats. Vakama’s mind turned to the other Turaga. He hadn’t seen Nuju in ages; Whenua and Matau were retired, as he was, and living in other cities. He had heard rumors that some of the others were still meeting. He didn’t really care; though he was once the leader, he was now the excluded one, and the others had used this peacetime to vent some of their personal problems upon him. The Three Virtues were considered by all--including, increasingly, Vakama himself--an old myth. Nobody really needed to unite for any reason; there wasn’t any Great Spirit to take care of anymore; and there hadn’t been any Toa for three thousand years, so most people assumed Destiny in its ultimate form had been achieved. “Not an unfair assumption,” Vakama said to himself, shrugging as he thought of his last argument with Nokama.A knock came on the door. Vakama was surprised. He picked up his staff and hobbled to the door. It was a Toa; Vakama recognized him as Kooms, the leader of the local Toa team.Why would a Toa want business with me? Vakama wondered. He could only think of two reasons: that he was under arrest or that he was being summoned to the Coliseum. He wasn’t sure which one sounded worse.“Walk with me,” Kooms said. “Don’t worry, you’re not under arrest.”Coliseum then, Vakama thought to himself. He began to brace himself for the inevitable shots the other Turaga would take at him. Thankfully, Kooms led him away from the Coliseum, down the street towards the chute station.“There’s going to be another Time Slip,” Kooms stated casually, not even looking at Vakama. “A Time Slip?” Vakama inquired.“Do you remember on Metru Nui when everyone woke up and couldn’t remember a thing?”“Sounds like the morning after every Naming Day.""No, this is serious. Six months of history disappeared. You certain you don't remember it?""No.""Well, it happened, and it's about to happen again."“How do you know?”“Mask of Balance. Whenever something’s off in space or time, I’m the first to know about it. I felt it about three days ago.”“Why are you telling me, then? And where are you taking me?”“We’re going to the Bronze District. I’ll explain everything once we get there.”The two arrived at the chute station and hopped on the express chute south towards the Bronze District. Vakama had not been to the Bronze District in at least several years that he could remember; it was one of New Atero’s poorest neighborhoods, set on the periphery of the city, and was mostly home to Skakdi and Telkerrians who had settled in New Atero after the Great Exodus out of the Matoran Universe. To his memory, Vakama had never seen a Skakdi until his first time in that particular district; he had heard that they were violent and unreasonable, and to be safe, he never interacted with them.They disembarked from the chute. The Bronze District wasn’t half as bad as Vakama remembered. Rather than small iron shacks, there were rows of brightly-painted houses; there were a few Skakdi on the street but mostly Le-Matoran and Ga-Matoran. The Skakdi moved in tight-knit groups; the Matoran were aloof and did not seem to interact much with each other. Vakama could hear music; there appeared to be some sort of small street fair a few blocks ahead.“Is that where we’re going?” Vakama inquired.“Actually it’s this left.”Kooms led Vakama into a small, deserted alley between two of the painted houses. It was empty except for a few trash cans; a small catlike Rahi darted out from behind one and climbed a fence into someone’s yard.“This is our spot.”Kooms gestured to an inconspicuous pink-and-white house. He knocked on the door, very loudly. As soon as the door creaked open in response, Vakama was greeted by a blast of loud music and the smell of burning erriax flowers; he registered the Matoran at the door a few seconds afterwards. It was Hafu.“Hey, Vakama,” Hafu muttered; he carried a piece of paper in his hand, which he idly scanned. Turning to Kooms, he inquired, “Are you here for the meeting?”“Yes.”“You guys just made it in time. Come in.”Hafu’s house was filled with long, elaborate strands of Kiratan thread; countless small sculptures lay around, some mounted on furniture and windowsills, others haphazardly placed on tables. A rope hung curiously from the ceiling and lay coiled across the floor. The smell of incense and erriax flowers was overpowering. It was the house of an artist, albeit either a very lazy one or one so devoted to his craft that everything else was neglected. Another Matoran was sprawled on one of the couches, seemingly asleep, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else there.“I’d like to see the new machine you’ve been telling me about,” Kooms said to Hafu.“Well I’m about to show you,” the sculptor said with a half-smile. He walked over to one of the sculptures, a huge Mata Nui head, and rotated it; at first Vakama thought he was adjusting its position, but there was a click, and a massive trapdoor fell open beneath the rope. The rest of the rope unraveled and dangled down.“A Hafu original,” Hafu said.“You’ll have to explain to me how that works at some point,” Kooms said.“It’s simple. The statue’s attached to a lever, when I turned it the support beam fell. Are we ready to head down?” Hafu suddenly exclaimed to the room.“If we’re all here,” Kooms answered.Upon peering into the pit, Vakama was surprised at its shallowness; it was only about six feet deep, enough for a Matoran to stand in but not most other entities. Another small door was set into the wall. The Toa climbed down effortlessly, while Hafu and Vakama had to rely on the rope. Hafu came down first and took Vakama’s staff as the Turaga slid down, burning his hands from the friction. Vakama and Kooms were equally shocked to see what lay behind the door. Behind it was a small flight of steps that descended to the floor of a vast space, at least the size of the main square of Ta-Koro back on Metru Nui, though with a ceiling not much higher than that of Hafu’s house. It looked to be an old reservoir or storage room, most likely of Agori origin; clusters lightstones set into the floor every twenty feet or so illuminated the place with a harsh glow undercut by spaces of darkness. “What is this place?” Kooms asked.“It’s an old Agori reservoir. Must have dried up millenia ago. I put in lightstones and built the trapdoor. Nobody except me and my friends know about it. And now you do.”They walked through the vast space; there was still a slight smell of erriax flowers. As they moved deeper, Vakama became aware of the voices of people, then of a large group of at least twenty; most of them appeared to be Toa, but there were also several Matoran. The shapes became clearer. Takanuva was there, along with Jaller, Hahli, Kongu, Hewkii, Nuparu, Tahu, Gali, and Kopaka; Vakama wondered for a second why the others were not there before he remembered that Pohatu and Lewa had been on a mission for several months and that Onua was now a Turaga serving on the council of a distant city. Vakama recognized all the Matoran, for they were part of the Original Thousand who had come with the Toa Metru from the Old City to the island of Mata Nui. Kapura, the master of traveling great distances by walking very slowly, was there; so were Macku, Taipu, Midak, Tamaru, the hermit Kantai, and the Chronicler Kopeke. There were also three Toa Vakama did not recognize: a tall Toa of Air, an even taller Toa of Water, and what Vakama was pretty certain was a Toa of Sonics. Vakama was dismayed to see Whenua, Matau, and Nuju, but thankfully Nokama and Onewa were not present. Kooms addressed the crowd.“By being here you are sworn to secrecy. It doesn’t matter, because you will soon forget everything you learned here. When, I cannot say. If you reveal anything you have learned here to anyone else, you are endangering Matoran society and may potentially cause rioting and widespread panic.“Most of what I have already told you about the Time Slip is a lie. The Time Slip is an initiative by the group I represent, the Order of Mata Nui; it is being engineered specifically to erase the period between the first Great Cataclysm and the second, the one that occurred so recently when the body of Mata Nui crashed here and we left it to inhabit this new world we call Spherus Magna. This is so that the nature of the Great Spirit is kept secret from the world. The history of the Matoran Universe during that time is safe with us; however, none of you were in the Matoran Universe at the time. You were living on what you called the island of Mata Nui. Thus, your memories of this time will be lost if they are not preserved.“We have gathered every single scrap ever written about the island of Mata Nui in this room, accounts from the two Chroniclers Takua and Hahli. They stand before you as Toa, soon to have no memory of how they became such. But we need more. This is why we have called each of you here to provide as many of your memories of living on that island as possible. Unless you choose to leave, in which case you will forget every memory you ever had of Mata Nui with no hope of retrieving them, each of you will be given one day to recount as much as you choose. Tell stories; do not merely rattle off facts. We must know through your experiences, not the trivia you have acquired. These records will be kept by the Order, and if you come to us and ask, you may view them. I willl make sure you do not forget that piece of information. However, your memories will still be erased. You will not be spared by the Time Slip. This is only for safety. You will be as clueless as the rest of us. “And I would like to apologize deeply, to every single one of you, and assure you that this will never happen again. Not if we make sure it never needs to. Thank you.”The members of the crowd had been silently staring at each other in shock for a while, and they immediately burst into uproar upon receiving this news. Vakama had stood there silently, soaking up Kooms’ words; he had suspected this even before the Toa had begun speaking. As soon as he had seen the Toa of Sonics, and remembered where he had seen that face before so many years ago, he had realized the full truth.Review topic (and information on footnotes): http://www.bzpower.c...?showtopic=7436

Edited by VolcanoBakemeat
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