A Life Of Open Wounds, "It is not the wounds... but how the scars heal." Options

[Moutekea]

=Foreword=

Obviously, this Epic is meant to be a sort of prequel for Tesseract's Ancient Mirrors saga. This will also close up some holes in the histories of a number of my characters, and tie up a loose end or two in the process. Out of necessity and by request, I'll be putting chapters of the story here as well as in my blog. So be sure to keep an eye on the blog as well as this thread.

This Foreword will also serve as the 'Title Page' and 'Table of Contents' later on.

With that done, please sit back and enjoy the tale.

-Mout

== Table of Contents==
Chapter 1 -- Artisan
Chapter 2 -- Skyline
Chapter 3 -- Embargo

==Acknowledgements==
My thanks to Tesseract for partnering with me in getting this story written and motivated.
The OACP (what's left of us, anyway) for sticking with me, cheering me on, and willing to help me bounce ideas. Couldn't have done it without ya, gang.
My family, for being patient with this old pain-in-the-tush Peter Pan.
King Kobra's interest and enthusiastic support.
(More to be added as the tale progresses)

==Extras==
(To Be Added)

This post has been edited by Moutekea: Sep 7 2008, 12:09 AM

[Moutekea]

==1. Artisan==


Fire.

Screams.

Fleeing citizens.

He laughed with sadistic glee atop his perch, painting destruction with another wave of his hand.

Power.

He was a god. In his grasp, he held the fates of thousands of mortals.

Life.

Death.

He relished the rush of being a death god and the notion that all would bow and fear him. What a thrill it was to decide which mortal toy was doomed and which was to be spared to be reaped another day...

Pain.

A greater shadow rose up and cast restraints upon the delusional death god, pulling the supernatural chains the way a puppeteer would manipulate a puppet on strings. The shadow laughed with the same twisted pleasure the writhing death god had before being forced into submission by his new and far-more-cruel master.

"You are mine." the red-eyed shadow growled at his new toy with a satisfied grin, lifting his living marionette to eye-level.

The death god winced as he felt the shadow's foul, humid breath escape his jagged, yellow-toothed maw, opening wide to devour him alive.

The great shadow looked the terrified death god in the eye with a sneer as he lowered his prey into his jaws.

"Never will you rise above me." the shadow uttered to the death god, "Never will you return to the light... You are darkness. You are beyond forgiveness. Beyond reconciliation."

The shadow's maw slowly closed shut on the death god.

"YOU. ARE. MINE... AND YOU SHALL SERVE ME... FOREVER..."

Laughter. Insane laughter.

And then, there was nothing.

-------

==Metru-Nui, Present Day==

The solid light of the Metru-Nuiian half-sun struggled to break through the sickly green haze that blanketed the city, scattering it into shimmering, shifting shafts of light that danced across the ruined skyline. Some shafts of light went astray, inviting themselves into random homes, greeting the sleepy inhabitants and signaling a new day. One such stray shaft of light crept into a dusty Le-Metru apartment, stirring a jet-black Matoran up and out of his dreams.

Muttering, he sat up in his bed and blinked his lime-green eyes a few times to adjust to the presence of the patrolling shaft of light that was visiting his home. He gathered up his black noble-Ruru and stumbled to the floor. There was an expression of weariness on the Matoran as he slid his scarred Ruru onto his face, and with a stiff stretch, he trudged to his apartment balcony for some fresh air and to take in the view.

He leaned on the railing, recalling the days when the sky was still blue, and the twin suns looked upon the heart of Metru-Nui like two omniscient and caring eyes...

-------

==Metru-Nui, more than 1,000 years before present day==

A Matoran looked out from the balcony of his apartment, taking in the view of the Silver City as the city streets and transport chutes thrummed with the beat of life. His re-worked and polished body was coated in a muted shade of olive-green and he was trimmed here and there with jet-black; none of the scars he bore a few weeks ago remained. He wore a black Kanohi in the shape of a noble Ruru to replace the cracked mask he wore when he was fished out of the waters off of Ga-Metru's shores. Behind his Kanohi mask, a pair of lime-green eyes shined, bright and innocent like a child.

Deception. That's what his name meant.

Why he was given such a name boggled him.

---

It was the name of one of our heroes, Turaga Dume told him the day he awoke after getting rescued. Bear that name with pride.

Not many people are going to trust you with that name. another Matoran told him off to the side, later that day.

I'll just be honest, then. was his reply.

---

He went back into his apartment and gathered up his tools and some food before he walked out if his apartment and locked the door behind him.

By trade, he was an artisan. Crafter's art was a rare thing for a Le-Matoran to specialize in, as most were either pilots, musicians, or transport servicemen. Being a rarity made him an interesting commodity, in spite of the fact that few would trust a Matoran named 'Deception.' But he did manage to get work, just the same, and for the past week or so, his work had taken him into Po-Metru. There, the workers were a few weeks deep in constructing a monument planned to be erected in Le-Metru. The Artisan had been contracted by the foreman to carve in some artistic details into the stone artifice, a job this Le-Matoran had been looking forward to doing since day one.

Now, the Artisan had grown accustomed to the armed escort of Vahki waiting for him by the entrance to the transport chute. The first few days of this activity was obviously alarming, but seeing as the Honorable Turaga Dume had been treating this Le-Matoran artisan as a treasure, the Artisan soon came to accept the Vahki as personal security guards.

It was starting to get annoying, too, he would admit, but they've saved the Artisan from many run-ins with the more uncouth Po-Matoran workmen.

I guess I should be thankful. he thought with a hint of sarcasm, looking sideways at the Vorzakh riding the chute alongside him.

He exited the chute two or three kio from the construction zone he was assigned to while several Vahki Zadakh conversed with the Vorzakh. Rolling his eyes, the Artisan walked past the chattering Vahki, knowing that the Zadakh were only confirming the daily changing of the guard. Sure enough, the green Vorzakh marched back into the chute and three Zadakh flanked the Artisan, prompting looks of menace, exasperation, and boredom from the Po-Matoran working nearby.

"Here he comes, Ahkmou." muttered one with a wry grin.

"Shut it." snapped the Rau wearing workman, shooting a jealous glare at the Artisan passing by. Then he nervously looked over his shoulder at the Akaku wearing foreman standing just out of earshot before adding one last remark.

"The star treatment will be over soon enough for Dume's new pet. I'll be sure of it."

Oblivious to Ahkmou's seething, the Artisan looked at his mechanical bodyguards and sighed as he absently listened to the idle chitchat of the other Po-Matoran workers.

This 'star treatment' really isn't helping me make friends...

-------------------------------------------

"So... you must be the new guy."

The Artisan paused in the middle of his carving and looked over his shoulder, a little surprised at the friendly voice that greeted him. The greeter was another Le-Matoran, the Artisan noted.

"Tsolgel figured you'd need some company." a broad smile appeared on the dark-green on black stranger's lime-green Ruru.

"Tsolgel?" the artisan asked the other Le-Matoran as he put away the chisel he was using.

"Our foreman." the greeter pointed to a scaffold platform overlooking the work site, and the black bodied, brown Akaku-wearing Matoran reading blueprints standing atop said platform. "Tsogel's his name."

The Artisan picked up a new chisel. "You know him?"

A sharp nod was the reply. "He's a friend of mine, and not all the other workers here know it, but I'm also one of his partners." The stranger leaned over the carving table and whispered with a chuckle, "He only acts hostile to Le-Matoran just to save face around the majority of workers. Catch him after-hours with a bottle of brew, you'll find that he's not as intimidating as he would like you to think." He walked around the table and watched the Artisan return to his carving. "I do give him a right to complain, though. Most of the Le-Matoran that work for us are chute-speaking danger-magnets, always causing trouble for the sake of having fun."

"Glad we're not like those guys." the Artisan chuckled, placing the tip of his chisel on the uncut stone.

The visitor chuckled in agreement, then held out his closed fist to the Artisan. "Name's Tauan."

Smiling, the Artisan clanked his knuckles of his own fist with Tauan's. "I'm--"

The panicked shout of a Po-Matoran Surveyor interrupted the Artisan's sentence.

"STAMPEDE!!"

-------

It was bedlam.

Reacting to the stampede, all the on-duty Zadakh (including the ones assigned guard the Artisan) scrambled to pacify the raging herd of Kikanalo in earnest.

Tauan and the Artisan ducked under a loading ramp and out of sight just before an angry Kikanalo smashed into the nearby carving tables. Taking care not to attract more unnecessary attention, the two Le-Matoran made a mad dash for one of the paths that led out of the assembly fields and hid behind a boulder to watch and survey the mayhem. Tauan muttered an invective under his breath when he noted the slow progress the Vahki were having against the stampede.

"Do... Do Kikanalo just trample things on a whim like this?" the Artisan asked naïvely.

"No." was Tauan's exasperated reply. Tauan then remembered that the Artisan was new and changed his tone. "No... Kikanalo need to be provoked to get this destructive."

The Artisan paused before asking his next question. "If they were provoked... Who set them off?"

Tauan shook his head, sighed, and sat down with his back to the rock. "I don't know. ... but I know two things: We're Le-Matoran, and we're gonna get blamed for this."

Infuriated at the prospect of unjust persecution, the Artisan exhaled a sigh of exasperation of his own... then felt the hot breath of something huge on the back of his neck.

"T-Tauan?" the Artisan whispered, "Is there a..."

Tauan sat petrified for a second as he noticed the massive shadow looming above the Artisan.

"Kikanalo? Yes..." Tauan whispered in reply. "Now... Don't make any sudden moves. Just... shuffle away from him... very... slooowwly...."

*GWWWOOOOAAAAAARRRRRR!!!!*

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUGH!!"

-------

The next few minutes baffled even the Artisan. The last thing he remembered was that he was clinging to the prominent horn of a bull Kikanalo twice the size of the ones in the herd as it rampaged around the Assembly Field. Apparently, the very presence of the bull Kikanalo was enough to chase off the stampede... but that act left the Assembly Field in an irreparable mess.

All the Artisan knew was that he had just woken up after passing out from his ride on the Kikanalo, and that same Kikanalo was standing over him like a faithful Ussal Crab, wagging his thick tail in happiness.

"That proves it!" an angry voice shouted over the sound of a murmuring crowd, "I knew that new Le-Matoran was a troublemaker! He's no different from all those other green monkeys that buzz by here!" Several shouts of agreement rose up from the mob of Po-Matoran gathering around.

Confused and disoriented, the Artisan sat up, his body still stiff from the shock of his rodeo ride.

"You okay?" Tauan's concerned voice whispered, "I tried to help you, but the Kikanalo scooped you up too fast... I thought you were going to get trampled when I saw you fall off."

"I'm fine... I think." the Artisan blinked to get the dust out of his eyes. At the moment, the big Kikanalo nudged the Artisan with his horn in concern. "What happened?" the bewildered Le-Matoran sputtered, nervously patting the Kikanalo on the nose.

Tauan put on a nervous grin. "I think the Kikanalo made you his friend."

Meanwhile, the Po-Matoran mob started getting louder, not just from pointing fingers at the Artisan, but also from arguing with each other over what they just saw.

"Did you see that?"

"Yeah. It's his fault! He screwed over several weeks of hard work!"

"Forget the project! He saved our lives!"

"I say we ship him to Karzahni!"

"Yeah! Le-Metru's too good for him!"

"But he tamed a Kikanalo! It could have been much worse!"

"I've watched the guy! He's really not bad for a Le-Matoran. Let's give him a chance!"

"Chance?! Fhah! I'd rather make friends with a pack of Kavinika!"

Sensing a two way riot about to boil over, the remaining functioning Zadakh worked their way into the crowd and separated the two sides.

"Alright gentlemen, calm down." a voice boomed from the (miraculously still standing) platform scaffold. It was the voice of Tsolgel, the brown Akaku-wearing Foreman for that assembly field. "What seems to be the problem?"

Almost immediately, the whole crowd pointed at the Artisan.

"Him?" Tsolgel asked the crowd. "Just him? ... Who's leading this protest against him?"

There was an indecisive pause as the crowd talked amongst themselves, then they all unanimously pointed at Ahkmou.

Ahkmou cursed under his breath.

At the same time, Tsolgel nodded pensively, as if though he had just discovered the answer to a riddle. Then, with the help of a nearby Vahki, Tsolgel was helped off the platform and he walked toward the Artisan.

"I'll have the lot of you know that I've kept an eye on this particular Le-Matoran for past week or so now." Tsolgel announced, pointing at the three lenses of his Akaku. He put an assuring hand on the Artisan's shoulder before turning back to face the crowd, "I'll honestly say that he doesn't cause any trouble. It's only the fact that he's a Le-Matoran that attracts trouble to him." The Foreman crossed his arms. "So my advice to the lot of you in regards to him is -lay off-."

The Artisan breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that his foreman's eyewitness was enough to clear his name somewhat.

"Tsolgel. It's great that he's off the hook for starting the stampede," Tauan spoke up, gesturing to the Artisan, "But it doesn't answer the question of who set off the Kikanalo..."

All eyes fell on Ahkmou.

After a long, awkward silence in the dusty assembly field, Ahkmou cracked. "I did it! By the Mask of Karzahni! -I- did it!"

The restless crowd started to get raucous in response to Ahkmou's confession, only to quiet down when the Zadakh squads began to charge their staves and when the big bull Kikanalo took up a defensive posture.

Disturbed and curious, the Artisan stood up and faced Ahkmou with one question: "Why?"

"Don't you know who I am, you green monkey?!" Ahkmou jabbed his thumb into his own chest, "I'm Ahkmou, one of the three best carvers in Metru-Nui, and I intend to be Number One!" He threw an indignant finger point towards the Artisan, "And I don't need some Zyglak-spawn Le-Matoran who thinks he's a carver competing with -me- on MY turf!"

The crowd was in an uproar, and the Vahki prepared their staves to quell the simmering riot when a desperate shout silenced the mob.

"I don't WANT to compete with you!"

The sound of a tumbleweed was all that was heard as all eyes fell on the now slightly vexed Artisan, his facial expression indicating mixture of disgust, disbelief, and distress.

Even Ahkmou was a little shocked. "Say that again?"

"I never wanted to compete with -anyone-!" the Artisan blurted, looking like a toddler on the verge of throwing a tantrum. "If you weren't so wrapped up in your prejudice and personal goals, you would have learned that I'm just here to make an honest living! Ranks, skills, and status are (and should be) the -last- thing on my mind when I clock in!"

The crowd murmured amongst themselves, sensing the wisdom and sincerity of the Artisan's declaration. Noting that there wasn't going to be a riot, the Zadakh squads seemed to sigh in disappointment and started to leave, while a large number of Po-Matoran workers started to trickle towards the Artisan. A flabbergasted Ahkmou was slowly being left behind in the process.

"You really don't believe what that green monkey said, do you?!" Ahkmou protested.

"He's really not that different from us." a Kakama wearing Matoran replied, walking away.

"Yeah!" added another, Ruru-wearing Matoran passing Ahkmou, "I think we're not giving him a decent chance."

"Losers..." Ahkmou muttered under his breath. He then shouted, "You're all lo--"

The shadow of a Vahki Zadakh interrupted him.

"--sers...."

Standing astride the Zadakh was Tsolgel, an amused (and slightly disappointed) expression was on the Po-Matoran Foreman's face. "Ahkmou. You're being reassigned."

Meanwhile, oblivious to the zapping Ahkmou received, the bulk of the Po-Matoran were dispersing to their posts and cleaning up as much as they could of the mess the Kikanalo stampede left behind, while a few bold Matoran were taking the time to get to know the Artisan. The huge bull Kikanalo, sensing that all the drama was calming down, provided his massive bulk as shade from the setting twin suns for the Artisan and his new friends.

"I'm Hewkii." the Kakama-wearing Matoran introduced himself, holding out his closed fist in greeting. He nodded his head to the Ruru-wearing Po-Matoran carver next to him, "That's Hafu."

"Yo." Hafu acknowledged, holding out his fist, too. "You know, you really aren't all that bad for a Le-Matoran."

The Artisan chuckled, and clanked his fist with the two Po-Matoran.

"See, I told you! He's a nice guy!" another Po-Matoran chimed in with a sing-song 'I-told-ya-so' tone. The group of friendly Po-Matoran laughed, and nodded in agreement.

"I never got your name," Tauan confessed after some friendly conversation was traded, "... No thanks to that stampede earlier."

"Yeah, we need a name!" blurted another Po-Matoran.

"Something better than 'Hey, you! New guy!'" Hafu joked. Chuckles rippled through the group.

"Hehe... So, what -do- they call you back in Le-Metru, new guy?" Hewkii asked.

The Artisan smiled.

"Sailaye." he spoke, "My name is Sailaye."

---------------------------------------------------------------

((ALOW is written in collaboration with Ancient Mirrors as a story aid and prequel.))

Review

EDIT: typofix

This post has been edited by Moutekea: Sep 7 2008, 12:02 AM

[Moutekea]

==2. Skyline==

==Metru-Nui, Present Day==

Sailaye sighed heavily as he looked over the ruined city, his lime-green eyes following the lines of the many garlands of Visorak webs and overgrown vines that draped the rickety ruins of buildings that once housed so much life. He took a glance at his now fully ebony color-scheme, then set his eyes upon the ruined and unnatural skyline of his home city, slowing taking in the reality that he wasn't the only thing that had darkened over the years.

Hearing a knock on his apartment door, Sailaye turned away from his balcony railing and trudged over to answer.

"Who is it?" the jet-black Le-Matoran asked as he grasped the door handle.

"You should know me, tree-brother." an elderly, but familiar voice answered, slightly muffled through the door.

Sailaye opened the door with a relieved smile, inviting his guest inside. Turaga Matau greeted Sailaye warmly and entered the ebony Le-Matoran's slightly dusty apartment.

"It's good to see you again, old friend." Sailaye spoke, opening his closet compartment.

"Aye." Matau agreed, sitting down on a nearby chair. He looked around the room, a look of reminiscence in the Turaga's eyes. "This dusty-place hasn't changed much over the age-times. Reminds me of our song-band back in the before-time." The Turaga paused as he noticed the large black case Sailaye extracted from the closet. "Is that--?"

The ebony Le-Matoran opened the case on the coffee-table and picked up a stringed instrument not unlike the guitars seen on Earth. "It is, Matau." Sailaye said with an excited smile.

"Mata-Nui, it's still intact! After the many hundred-years, it's still intact!" Matau seemed to have the same grin on his Mahiki-wearing face, though his tone of voice didn't mask his concern. "Can it still playsong?"

Sailaye rested the 'guitar' on his knee, and arranged the fingers of his right hand on the frets and strings before strumming a power chord with his left. He waited a few seconds, tuned the strings a bit, then strummed again.

"Looks like it can." the Le-Matoran said, glad that the thousand-year-old strings didn't break after centuries disuse.

Matau looked relieved, then an eager expression crossed his face. "Remember any songs our song-band played, Sailaye?"

Sailaye strummed another chord.

"I've never forgotten them."

He then began to play the opening chords of a song... the last song their band ever played.

((Author's Note: recommended song -- Revolution by Starfield))

-------

==Metru-Nui, More than 1,000 years before present day==

Sailaye looked up at the sky as he and his band tuned their instruments to the acoustics of the Great Coliseum. The usually clear sky was gray and the growing masses of darkening clouds were churning so violently that the olive and black Le-Matoran could see the small flashes of arc lightning behind them.

An ill omen.

He eyed the balcony across the stadium where Turaga Dume would normally appear to view Akilini games. Sailaye noted that it was being re-furnished so the honorable Turaga would be seated for the coming concert.

A sour taste crept into Sailaye's mouth as he realized that the song that the majority of the crowd would be cheering for was one that enraged the Turaga the day it debuted to the public.

Hopefully, Sailaye thought as he played a few more practice chords, He'll just listen...

-------

It had been a few years after the incident in Po-Metru. By now, Sailaye no longer had to be escorted any Vahki bodyguards, and he was very glad to find work and not worry about getting negative attention. Sailaye did admit that, even though he was glad that he was living a quiet and normal life, he was still a Le-Matoran at heart and being quiet and normal did get boring for him at times, prompting him to make a little change of pace...

Every now and then, Sailaye would stop by a pub on the border of Ga-Metru and Po-Metru and hang out with the Matoran he made friends with since he had been fished out of the waters of Ga-Metru. Once there, Sailaye nonchalantly took a sip of his Vino-Bula drink and sat down at his gang's usual table, straightening out his ebony Ruru after setting down his drink. It was the end of another long workweek, and Sailaye and his group of friends were ready to trade tales of their day, and to get news from what happened since they met last.

First was Tauan, a Dark-Green-on-Black, Light-Green-Ruru-wearing Le-Matoran Surveyor who helped position and monitor construction projects all over Metru-Nui. He was among the first Matoran to approach Sailaye and befriend him. Since that day, the two had become the best of friends, and nigh inseparable. The two often recommended each other to their contracted employers just so they could work in the same area as much as possible. And when these two weren't on the job, they'd be playing music together, sparring, spinning tall tales to the newling Matoran, or playing pranks on mutual friends. They were almost brothers, and that wasn't going to change for a long time.

Second was Tsolgel, a brown-on-black Po-Matoran Foreman with a sharp eye (through his Akaku's built-in scope) and a rough charisma on the job. It was this sharp eye and rough charisma that cleared Sailaye's name of a false accusation a few years ago, and Tsolgel became a little more than Sailaye's boss; he became a friend and mentor as well. Off the work site, though, the seemingly stern and stoic Tsolgel was really a goofball just waiting for an excuse to surface. It was hard being stern with and in charge of Matoran that were naturally independent and rough-and-tumble, and Sailaye couldn't blame Tsolgel for wanting to let loose after a rough day at work.

Matau, the reckless one. He was a master test driver for the new vehicles being produced at the factory in Le-Metru. When he wasn't pushing test vehicles to the limit, Matau would be found on the racetrack, racing for good times and glory, or at home, singing the day away to his favorite songs. Every now and then, though, Matau would have a nugget of wisdom to share with his friends... The gang didn't think Matau came up with such wisdom on his own, and they rarely took him seriously. Besides, they knew that Matau was never the kind to be serious.

Also at the table was Tauan's Pakari-wearing younger brother, Daoeng. Dao was a bear of a Matoran, physically sturdier, stronger, and slightly heftier than most Le-Matoran. He often traveled with Tauan to help with the many construction projects around the city, and his heft and raw strength adding an extra boost to the work. Most Matoran who didn't know Daoeng all too well were often scared off by Dao's powerful frame, bulk, and naturally intense facial expression. The fact that he was shy, and not socially savvy, didn't help his situation much, either. The Matoran who did take the time to get to know Daoeng found him to be as gentle as a pet Ussal Crab, and just as loyal.

Hailing from Onu-Metru was Darhazu, a Dark-Blue-on-Black Noble-Huna wearing Technician handling the computers that monitored the Archives. He was the obvious nerd of the group, often slipping into technobabble unconsciously, talking about the latest upgrade to the Archives’ security computer, or suggesting to play table games instead of the high contact games the other Matoran opted to play. He was a handyman when it came to the more complex technologies of Metru-Nui, and in helping his friends with the technological, they helped him out with the finer points of social savvy.

Kato. The Hau-wearing hot-blood of the group, and despite his yellow-on-tan color scheme, he made it no secret that he was Ta-Matoran. He worked in the forges, and was a master weaponsmith. When he wasn't forging, teaching weapons-handling, playing Akilini, or sparring, he was always trying to start a conversation or make a new friend... or (much to the chagrin of his friends) picking fights. In spite of his incorrigible attitude, Kato was a wise, loyal friend and a fierce protector.

Sitting quietly at a far corner of the table was Malakai, a pure white, Kakama-wearing Ko-Matoran who worked as a courier for the seers of the Ko-Metruan Knowledge Towers. He was the most reclusive member of the group, but when he warmed up to a new friend, Malakai proved himself to be kind and quite talkative for a Ko-Matoran. When he wasn't in the conversation, he was often deep in thought or observing his friends. He was also the most spiritual member of the group, which was unusual for a Ko-Matoran. For sage wisdom, or moral support, Malakai was often the first they knew to turn to.

Then there was Kalile, the Ga-Matoran and the only girl in the gang. She was the one that found the unconscious Sailaye floating half-drowned in the waters years ago, and didn't hesitate to pull him out. Were it not for her, Sailaye would have certainly drowned. They had since kept in touch, and she brought a welcome balance to Sailaye's rag-tag crew. Kalile had a well-mannered charm about her, and possessed a beautiful singing voice that complemented her talent in writing (a skill she taught in one of the Ga-Metruan academies.) While it was not a secret that Kalile enjoyed the company of her friends, she did secretly harbor feelings for Sailaye, though her natural Ga-Matoran shyness kept her from asking Sailaye if he felt the same about her...

It was on this night, after a few hours of trading stories and sharing a few rounds of Vuata Vino, Sailaye absently brought up the notion of starting a band, curious about what a life of playing music would be like. Naturally, the Le-Matoran members of the group were all for the idea, but was also no surprise when the remaining five Matoran were, at first, not as animated about starting a band. Music was a Le-Matoran thing, after all.

After a few minutes of disappointed silence from the four Le-Matoran, Kalile confessed that she also liked the idea of having a band, as it would provide an outlet for her singing. Matau chuckled at the thought of a Ga-Matoran singing, but after he heard her voice, Matau was more than happy to have a female voice in the band to balance out his own singing.

Following Kalile's lead, one by one, the remaining members of the group figured out what they could do to contribute. Darhazu, with his background in the technology, offered to learn how to use soundboards to help fine tune the band's sound. Tsolgel, eager for a duty that didn't force him to be all cut and dry, offered to act as the new band's manager and publicity man. Being Ko-Matoran, Malakai admitted that he wasn't too keen on being a public figure, but he didn't mind working backstage, handling all the behind-the-scenes duties. Kato was proud of his knack for getting attention (as well as his skill in chasing people off) and was more than happy to act as the bouncer or 'chief of security' for the band as well as helping Tsolgel with setting up gigs.

For the Le-Matoran members of the band, it was easy: it was their job to make the music. Sailaye was skilled with woodwinds and stringed instruments, and had a voice of his own to sing with. Matau was charismatic, loud, and also skilled with stringed instruments. The more restrained Tauan was familiar with instruments with deep sounds, specifically strings and zithers, and his stocky brother, Daoeng, was a master of rhythm and was most comfortable beating drums and other percussion instruments. Kalile would add her voice to the band, and Tauan offered to teach her to play the ivory key zithers.

With their individual roles in the band confirmed, all the new band needed now was a name.

"Daylight?" Daoeng suggested.
"No..." Darhazu objected.
"Razors?" Kato played a little air-guitar with his suggestion.
"No." Kalile didn't like the name for obvious reasons.
"Chutes and Ladders?" There was a cheezy grin on Tsolgel's face.
"Mata-Nui! NO!" the whole group protested, some of them chuckling at Tsolgel's joke.

"How about 'Skyline'?" Sailaye finally asked, looking out the pub's window at the Metru-Nui skyline. The rest of the gang looked out the window, too, and saw the skyline of the city silhouetted against the Metru-Nui sunset.

"Inspiring." Tauan commented.
There were nods of agreement all around the table.

"Looks like we all like-agree." Matau spoke up holding up his glass of vino in a toast, "'Skyline' is our name."

-------

It started out slow for a several weeks after that night at the pub for the newly formed band. It was mostly jam sessions at Sailaye's apartment every week, and the occasional gig at some unheard of venue. Tsolgel and Kato happened to have some very high profile contacts, though, and after a few more months of hits and misses with lyric and sound, Skyline started to get the attention of the Matoran public.

A number of Skyline's songs were simply instrumental jams, with Kalile's dulcet voice filling in the melody, rarely adding any rote and rhyme to their rhythms and score. When Skyline -did- use lyrics, they made sure that their words were rarely wasted, and as a result their lyrical songs often had deep personal meaning (though, as expected, meanings often misinterpreted by the public.)

Even with the attention they were attracting, Skyline remained small potatoes, and being honest with themselves, the band liked it that way. Unfortunately, reality would not let Skyline remain small and largely unnoticed.

After about a year and a half of small-time indie music from Skyline, the social climate of Metru-Nui started to take a nose dive. Matoran were starting to notice disturbing changes in Turaga Dume's behavior, starting with the wise old leader's insistence on staying isolated. Trade with other islands and environs were slowly being choked off and eventually all paths leading into Metru-Nui were sealed, trapping the Matoran on Metru-Nui and isolating them from the outside world. The law-enforcing Vahki were suddenly getting more aggressive in keeping the city in order, and Matoran were starting to disappear without a trace.

It wasn't long until the citizens of Metru-Nui began to turn to music to keep their spirits from falling into a state of sloth and depression. Because of the meaningful lyrics of some of their songs, Skyline attracted particular attention from the public, and soon, the group of nine friends found themselves thrust into the role of being the voice of the people...

-------

And here they were now, three years after a random discussion at a Po-Metru pub, standing on a stage in front of thousands. The band had already played through a number of their most recognized tunes, and Sailaye watched the crowd carefully while the charismatic Matau went into the customary 'lead singer spiel' to work the people up for their next song. Sailaye shuddered as he felt the thunder in the chilly air, and knew right away something was wrong. The abnormal number of Vahki present only added to Sailaye's unease.

Matau flashed the signal to start the song to Sailaye. Sailaye shook off his unease and played the opening chords, much to the delight of the crowd... but across the stadium, Sailaye could feel Turaga Dume's indignant glare. In Sailaye's mind, by playing this song, he knew they have finally done it: defied the order of Turaga Dume and openly scorned his invitation play a concert in the Colosseum in his presence. Skyline only got permission to play at the Colosseum under the condition this particular melody was never preformed.

"If I'm here all alone
If I'm left behind
If they spit in my face
If they hate my kind..."

As Matau began to sing the opening lyrics, Sailaye noticed the Vahki milling around the isles, scanning the crowd then watching them on and off. It was as if though the Vahki were waiting for something.

"I will rise above
I will live for love
I will answer to the call..."

Sailaye and Kalile added their voices to the chorus, stirring the crowd up.

"For the bond between
For the depth unseen
For my god, forsake it all..."

Matau was lost in the moment, obviously shutting out the reality that there more Vahki than necessary starting to file into the stadium.

"'Cause I'm a fire,
I'm a flood,
I'm a revolution,
I am a war,
Already won,
I'm a revolution..."

Sailaye then noticed something about Matau as the song slowed a bit for the next verse. Matau wasn't lost in the moment, but the look in Matau's eyes seemed to indicate that he had just seen something unbelievable; he wore the face of a man who had just seen the future.

"When the world is at war,
When the grace is gone,
When the hungry lay dead,
While the rich live on..."

Suddenly, with the flashes of lightning illuminating the thunderclouds above, Sailaye also got glimpses of the future, and he could sense that his friends had seen the improbable as well. They saw the city in ruins, and six Toa emerging to challenge the heavy hand of Turaga Dume... and, finally, a great shadow looming on the horizon. The revelations the nine friends received only added to the power of their song.

"I will rise above
I will live for love
I will answer to the call
For the bond between
For a depth unseen
For my god, forsake it all..."

"'Cause I'm a fire,
I'm a flood,
I'm a revolution,
I am a war,
Already won,
I'm a revolution..."

Matau took his hands off the strings of his instrument and closed his eyes as he sang, letting Sailaye take over the melody. Sailaye nodded and gestured to Kato, Malachi, Tsolgel, and Darhazu to get ready. With this many Vahki, it wasn't going to be safe for them for very long...

"Here I stand...
Open hands,
Waiting for you.
I won't back down,
I'll live to speak your truth..."

Sailaye looked to the balcony where the now seething Turaga Dume sat, his aged hands balled up into fists resting on the arms of his throne. No doubt that Dume had given an order by now, as the aisles were now lined Vahki marching toward the stage.

"Here I stand...
Open hands,
Waiting for you.
I won't back down,
I'll live to speak your truth... Your Truth..."

Lightning flash. Lights out. Band kept on playing in the dark.

“'Cause I'm a fire,
I'm a flood,
I'm a revolution,
I am a war,
Already won,
I'm a revolution...”

The lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the pitch darkness and inciting screams of shock and fear as the swarm of Vahki charged the stage, trampling concert-goers.

"I will not be shaken..." the singer adlibbed, "I will not be moved... Revolution!"

The power flipped back on to reveal the stage in shambles but empty. The crowd was in shock, and Dume jubilant... But then, the crowd suddenly cheered as they saw their heroes standing safely on the rim of the Coliseum, having miraculously escaped the will of the Vahki. Sailaye, exhilarated that the escape the band had planned for months had gone perfectly, raised a fist to the sky and gave a wry smile toward an infuriated Turaga Dume. The members of the Matoran crowd below, finally understanding the message in Skyline's final performance, all raised their fists to cheer and confirm their will to fight for their freedom.

"... A fire, a sword, and we will not go down without a fight..." the recording of the song the band had playing to cover their escape started to wind down.

And with the next flash of lightning, the members of Skyline vanished without a trace.

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((ALOW:LL is written in collaboration with Ancient Mirrors as a story aid and prequel.))

Review

EDIT: grammarfix

This post has been edited by Moutekea: Sep 7 2008, 12:02 AM