Some call me mad. Well, not really some. Many. Many call me mad. Actually, now that I think about it, it would probably be more accurate to say that everyone calls me mad, for indeed, each and every being who resides in Ko-Koro has no doubt questioned my sanity at one point or another. I dare say that even the Turaga, in his infinite wisdom, has had his doubts as to whether I’m in full control of my mental faculties.
My name is Korako, and I am the one and only lobster trapper on the island of Mata Nui. It’s this occupation, you see, that has led my fellows to call me mad. Just because I get up before dawn each day and trek for kio and kio through the Drifts to the only stretch of beach in Ko-Wahi; just because I take my boat out to check my traps regardless of whether the sea is as still as the surface of a mirror (pro tip: it never is) or as wild as a stampeding Kane-Ra (pro tip: it always is); just because I hunt Rahi that could crack my arm in two with a snap of their claws – just because of that, they think I’ve lost my mind. Can you imagine? Yeah, I know. But I don’t mind. They don’t seem to mind, either, when I bring in a big catch and they get something other than Mountain Mahi for dinner.
Anyway, I was on my way to work one morning when I saw something unusual… And then I kept going, brought in a decent catch, headed back home, and made a decent profit selling my lobsters in the market. The end.
Hah! You thought I was gonna tell you some great story, didn’t you? Hah, ha… No? That wasn’t funny? Hm. Okay, then. Well, you’re in luck, ‘cause I actually do have a story for you.
Monday. Worst day of all. Oh, no, it’s not that I don’t like my job, ‘cause I love it. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing with my life. It’s just that sometimes, when you wake up hours before sunrise on the first day of the week, when the air outside chills you to the bone even with your natural resistance to cold, you wonder whether this is such a great idea after all.
Those were the thoughts running through my head on this particular Monday morning. I slung my bag over my shoulder, still half-asleep, and slowly plodded out of the village and toward the Drifts. My feet instinctively followed the familiar path through the endless expanse of snow, which was good, since I definitely wasn’t conscious enough to find my way on my own.
Eventually I realized that I was standing on a boulder overlooking the short, rocky stretch of beach where I launched my boat each morning. And this morning, I thought as I hopped off the boulder, would be no different. A few quick strides took me to my boat, hidden behind a few of the larger rocks adjacent to the boulder. Not that anyone would be dumb enough to try to steal it, but you never could be too careful.
I was dragging the vessel toward the beach when I saw something odd on the horizon. At first I couldn’t quite discern what had caught my attention, but a few adjustments to my mask’s eyepiece brought into focus a single blue light, blinking steadily in the distance and seemingly growing larger by the moment. Before long I could make out the source of the light – it was coming from a large metallic cylinder, bobbing up and down with the waves. At this point, most would have wondered just what in karzahni the cylinder was, because surely no one on the island had ever seen anything like it. Personally, though, I was just thinking: Spirit, I hope that thing doesn’t mess up my traps.
A few minutes later the cylinder was clearly visible even without my eyepiece. It was quite large, even more so than I had first assumed. Two, maybe three Matoran could have fit inside. The blinking light was located at the apex of a dome over one end of the cylinder, and four other steady lights glowed dimly at equal intervals around the base of the dome. Just as I began to wonder what could possibly be inside, the canister collided with the rocky shore. The lights flashed brilliantly, blinding me for a few moments.
The sight that greeted me when my vision cleared was even stranger than the canister itself. A large being – easily twice my height, lay face down on the ground, groping around for what apparently was his arm. The appendage, for some reason, was located a few feet away. Weirder still, when he finally managed to get ahold of it, he just shoved it into his shoulder and started waving it around like this sort of thing happened every day. (Pro tip: It didn’t).
The being rose to his feet then, and I got the feeling just by the way he stood that he possessed extraordinary power. Instinctively, I did what I always do when I meet a Muaka or some other Rahi in the Drifts – I stood perfectly still, scarcely breathing, praying to the Spirit that this being wouldn’t notice me. This being seemed a bit smarter than the average Muaka, though. He looked straight at me, mask glowing faintly, his eyes seeming to pierce my soul. Still, I didn’t move.
This seemed to amuse the being. Smirking faintly, he examined his hand, and then he raised it toward me, palm out. For a brief moment I saw a bolt of ice flash through the air.
When my body heat finally melted the block of ice around me, the being was gone.
Edited by Baltarc, Mar 26 2013 - 10:17 PM.