A Dark Hunt Preliminary Poll - Lariska

[Velox]

Vote here for your favorite Dark Hunt story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on July 1st at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Dark Hunt Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 10th round preliminary poll.

 

Choice #1:

 

"Creature in the Dark"

Darkness clings to the city like a plague. Even the silver light that extends its tendrils into a few cracks here and there fails to penetrate the darkness. The citizens of Metru-Nui are in a state of panic and fear. Seldom were any Matoran seen traveling alone nowadays, and not a single one ever came out at night in this time of darkness. Platoons of Toa patrol every street in the metropolis, wary and tense.In the very deepest shadow, two lightless eyes watch them carefully. . . Not here. Wrong Toa. Silent footsteps run lightly across rooftops, clinging to the shadows as a creeper vine clings to its host. Another platoon of Toa go by. Hungry eyes scan the small group carefully. Not here either.They had to be around somewhere. The intelligence had specified that they were. If the information had been wrong, there would be one unhappy customer later on. Crossing more rooftops, heading in the general direction of the city's center. Thunderclouds gather overhead. Cold, merciless eyes scan closely the features of every Toa they come across, and frustration continues to build. True, there were hundreds of Toa roving the various Metru in this time of strife, but the eyes belonged to a very impatient nature.Rain begins to fall. It becomes difficult to maintain footing. Forced to enter the city, alone, into the very den of the Toa Army, resentment grew. But the money would be good. Nearing the Coliseum now. Swarms of Toa crawl around it. Thunder flashes, forcing a creature of darkness to flee for cover. A black heart pounds wildly. No, the Toa had seen nothing. Cold anger and a return to the mission at hand.Scanning the crowds of Toa. Wouldn't you know it, there were the targets, right in the middle of the crowd.But what's this? A Toa of red-and-gold speaks to his companion, one of black-and-gray, and they leave the crowd, moving to a quieter area around the side of the Coliseum.Excellent. But how to. . . There. Silent footsteps moving at top speed, hugging a sliver of shadow.Made it! Climbing the sides of the tallest building in the city. Crowds of Toa down below, like the insects they were. Climbing higher, dodging statues and protrusions. Rain falling in sheets. Making way around the building. . . Slippng through a maze of shadows. Finally reaching the ground. Thunder flashing again. Hiding behind a wall. The Toa's backs are turned. Now is the time.Stepping forward, but still under the cover of the black shadow. A grisly hand extends, sickly green light emanating from it. Power flashes. The gray Toa crumples to the ground. Grim satisfaction. One more moment and. . .CRUNCH!Toa Zaluk looks up from his dead companion, shock and anger in his heart, as a great Hau statue crashes violently to the ground a short distance away. A long, decrepit arm sticks out from under it.A grim smile plays across the features of the Toa's mask before his gaze returns to his companion.

 

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

 

Choice #2:

"The Music Box's Song"

It’s often said that the most curious piece of treasure in all of The Shadowed One’s collection is a plain, wooden box with neither value nor decoration. A key juts from its front and when turned, the box begins to sing. A hollow, melancholic trill fills the room and drowns it in pensiveness. The Shadowed One has never attempted to sell it, to barter with it or even dare to gamble with it.

Why he keeps this box is known to few and fewer still who would speak of it. But yet it continues to rest amongst rubies and opals, broadswords and spears, trophies and spoils of war. It exists besides them without contest and most curiously of all, it has gathered the least dust in all its years of rest.

The Dark Hunter trod through the collection, his feet whispering across the stony ground with all the subtlety his name would suggest. In the distance The Shadowed One marched these halls in pursuit of a separate purpose. Whatever it was, it was of no concern to Darkness. His intent was of a different nature, independent yet important enough to allow his game to wander from his watchful gaze.

The music box lay where it had always been kept, on a pedestal between two tablets inscribed with a language older than the rocks used to host them. His fingers brushed the surface and left a trail of dust in their wake. Darkness made no noise as he lifted it from its resting place and held it to his face.

Something shifted beyond and The Shadowed One’s voice floated over to Darkness’ ears. Whatever those words said was left unqueried as the Dark Hunters’ attention returned to the plain box before him. He turned the key and shattered the silence with its grating groan. The gears were wound and the song began to sound.

Once upon a time Darkness had made it his goal to ascend to the Dark Hunter’s throne. His plan had been to follow The Shadowed One, to watch and wait. At any moment his prey would slip, would make a mistake, would show weakness. He would wait for the moment when The Shadowed One had finally proven himself to be unworthy for rule and then Darkness would slip in and take his rightful position at the head of the organisation with a well-placed knife. Once upon a time he had thought nothing of this plan. But once upon a time was a long time ago.

He had watched and he had waited. Years turned into decades and decades into centuries. Through time, Darkness had grown proficient at his job. He learnt The Shadowed One’s schedule, his plans and his aspirations. He slipped into his prey’s mind as though it were a comfortable set of armour without realising the cost. In joining the Dark Hunters he had surrendered his old self to become Darkness. In the pursuit of his goals he had surrendered Darkness and become The Shadowed One’s shadow. He was no longer an independent being. He was only an echo of The Shadowed One now.

And yet, the dark hunt might have been Darkness’ life, but the box held the key to something beyond. In its hollow notes it sang a song of a time gone by when the world was different and when Shadow was something else. Something now lost, not only to himself but to the universe itself. But the music box knew and through its gentle rhythm, Darkness would know as well.

The true meaning in the box’s elusive history was of course known to Darkness but it was a matter that was none of his business. He cared not for the object but for its produce. It was the music that enticed him to listen. It was the sounds it made, like a siren calling him home. Nothing could have drawn him from the thoughtful trance it cast him in, nothing besides the great shadow of The Shadowed One that loomed over him then.

Darkness turned and the two regarded each other in watchful silence. Not a single word crossed between them as the box’s notes continued to unfold, for there was nothing to say. They simply stood and stared and waited for the empty desolation of silence to envelop them, and then their interaction would come to an end. Two individuals stood in this room but they would leave as one.

Eventually the box fell into silence and the hunt resumed.

 

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

 

Choice #3:

 

"Vengeful Extermination"

The Shadow Leech crawled out from under its rock and peered around. It could sense a massive source of light nearby, more than enough to save it from the starvation it was barely staving off.

The light was coming closer. Silently, it slithered out of its hiding place, sticking to the shadows as it moved towards the approaching meal. The source stepped on a branch—it was close now, so close that the Leech could already taste that delectable light. Just a few more steps, and the unlucky prey would be in the perfect position…

Unfortunately for the Shadow Leech, its “prey”—a Toa clad in white and gray armor—spotted it coming. The creature advanced quickly, but not quickly enough. The Toa raised the cylindrical cannon he carried, pulled the trigger, and smothered the mutant Kraata in flames.

“Serves you right, you little worm.”

Takanuva drew one of his Light Staffs and prodded the Leech to make sure it was dead. Once satisfied that the monster was no more, he returned the staff to his back, rested the cannon on his shoulder, and marched on.

Recently, a Shadow Leech had found its way into New Atero and attacked a Matoran. The Toa, who had assumed that all of the creatures had died off when their hive was destroyed, were quite surprised at the parasite’s appearance. Worse, this seemed to be a special Leech. Its brethren from Karda Nui lived only for a matter of minutes, and took hardly any effort to slay once they were found. For some reason, this particular Leech was much more durable and had a far longer life span.

Where there was one Shadow Leech, there could potentially be more. The most likely explanation was that Makuta had recreated and altered the species while in control of the Matoran Universe—or so the Turaga insisted. Whatever the case, the Shadow Leeches would need to be dealt with, and it was recommended several Toa be sent to hunt down the vermin. Takanuva had jumped at the chance.

The Toa of Light yawned. It does get a little lonely out here, but I get it—the others need to help evacuate the rest of the population and finish getting New Atero in order. Not like I need any help. No way am I letting one of those things latch onto me again.

He eyed the new weapon he held. Apparently it was something Nuparu had thrown together during his down time on Metru-Nui: a portable flamethrower powered by the Fire energies of the Toa Disk once belonging to Turaga Vakama. Takanuva didn’t really understand how it worked, but he couldn’t say that he cared. All that mattered was that it made his job a whole lot easier.

A quiet rustle drew Takanuva’s attention. Trees and shrubbery lined the path he was travelling, so there was no telling where the Leeches could be watching him from. Lowering the flamethrower, he took a staff in one hand and slowed his pace.

All of a sudden he whirled and thrust his staff, impaling a Leech that had lunged directly at his back. He tossed the creature on the ground and prepared to finish it off, only to be greeted by a more disturbing sight. At least a dozen Shadow Leeches were racing right towards him, their sickening forms twisting horrendously as they slithered their way forward.

“By all means, join the party.”

The cannon roared to life. Takanuva held it steady as flames poured out of it, incinerating every last Leech and charring the ground before him. A few seconds went by before he stopped to check if they were still alive. When he did, he was pleased to find that none of them were.

For a moment, and not for the first time, Takanuva wondered if he should feel remorse for his actions. The Leeches were, after all, living creatures, and Toa were not supposed to kill, let along take pleasure in it. However, as he always did with these thoughts, he set the concern aside. Shadow Leeches were created by Makuta for the sole purpose of enslaving Matoran. In order to fulfill his duty to protect the villagers, the Shadow Leeches needed to be eradicated.

Shouldering the weapon once more, Takanuva trudged on.

 

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

 

Choice #4:

 

"Apart from my Brothers"

There were tears in my eyes when I fled across the plain. My massive legs churn on, throwing sand about in torrents as I run. But there was no sound in my ears, nothing to comfort that distressed sense.I have never been alone, nor do I like the idea. My brothers have always been by my side: we cared for one another, we had peace. Even if we were separated, I think we would be happy if we had peace.But peace is not about me, and peace is not what is pursuing me. I can throw about a Matoran, box about a vortixx while deciding what my lunch will be. But this thing that pursues me, I cannot beat down. I saw it move a little in the dark, swift in lithe as it spread its silence over me. I fear it, as mighty as I am.The land around me is desolate, terrifyingly almost in the early night: the grey sand edged by the grasping claws of the rocks. It is my home, and at day charming.But not at night, not with this thing hunting me. I am tired after a day’s travel. My doom is drawing closer. I look back, changing my angle. There!I flee even faster as I again see the faint shape of my hunter.My brothers are far behind. My cries did not wake them, nor could they have. For the cries themselves were muted.I am nothing alone, I never was.A cliff approaches and I change my angle, running close by its edge. Looking down I see a deep canyon beside me. My eyes narrow. None of my brothers would kill themselves out of fear. But is it death? I am not a weakling, and my bulk tells me I have much protection.It does not matter, for my strength fades. I turn about, facing my foe. I snarl. Bracing myself for the last futile fight. Its dark form confounds me: I cannot fight in darkness!It is upon me. I give one more muted cry as I feel deep claws on my back. But my cry turns, unheard, into triumph.It has given itself into my power. With one muted roar I spring sideways and forwards, twisting over. Another muted roar breaks out as I fall: but there is another cry, this one not muted.I lie stunned for a moment among the rocks: the world seems to be still. Lying on my back, I feel too shocked to move. I give a snort.I hear it.With a growl of triumph I struggle to get up. The dark form lies still and crushed beneath me, broken upon the rocks. I throw back my head, giving vent to a victorious roar.I am a Kikanalo. I do not surrender.

 

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

 

Choice #5:

 

"The Extent of Courage"

A lone Matoran ran in the night, fleeing from shadows constantly nipping at his heels. The Matoran knew that if he were to falter, even for a moment, he would die. Like all living beings, the Matoran wanted to live. His mind kept repeating the same words over and over. Mata-Nui please give me the courage to survive. Please let me survive. I must survive.However, the more the Matoran prayed, the more frantic he became. As his mind fell further into despair, the forest around him appeared even more terrifying. The tree branches seemed to reach out, attempting to grab and devour him. The shadows of small Rahi cast themselves as though they belonged to larger, deadlier creatures. Everything about the darkness of the woods became more pronounced, more terrifying, more deadly. As the forest seemed to close in upon the Matoran, he panicked, letting out a cry for help.His cry was answered by a penetrating howl, followed by another howl, and then another. Soon, it sounded as though a network had been established, as more and more howls joined the first. The Matoran froze in his tracks and suddenly everything became deathly silent. Even the wind had died down, allowing an eerie silence to descend upon the woods. For a moment the Matoran couldn’t help but wonder if the wolves had stopped, if somehow he had been saved.Then he heard a slow rumble, growing louder and louder until finally it exploded into a symphony of howls and stampeding. The Matoran watched in horror as he saw Rahi, large and small fleeing from the forest behind him. They were running in terror from something, and it was only after the Rahi had passed him that the Matoran resumed his own flight of terror.However, it was too late now, far too late. Already the Matoran could hear light footsteps following him, no, stalking him. Their lazy gait seemed almost mocking, as if they had all the time in the world. It was as if they were laughing at the Matoran, daring him to try and flee. They were confident in the fact that escape was impossible.Just as the Matoran was about to give into his despair, he saw images of friends appear in his head. He could see the smiling villagers, men and women he had laughed and cried with. The Matoran did not want to die yet, not when he still had so much to live for. If nothing else he wanted to see his home again, tell his fellow villagers how much they meant to him. He especially did not want his death to weigh upon their hearts.I WILL SURVIVE!With newfound determination, the Matoran resumed running and this time a certain vigor had entered his legs: the vigor of a survivor. With every step his resolve only strengthened. He would not rest until he was home, and then he would thank every single person he knew, give everyone a hug for making his life one worth running back to.None of the Matoran’s optimism slowed the wolves; as the Matoran's pace increased, so too did theirs'. The dreaded moment came: the hunt was getting boring. Toying with him was no longer fun; it was time to end it. That was when the first Wolf leapt out of the woods, and the Matoran finally saw the face of Death itself.An Iron Wolf, lean yet powerful, was running alongside him. Then, when the Matoran tried to suppress his fear, the Iron Wolf responded by quickly outpacing him and then cutting his path off. As the Matoran turned to try and escape in another direction, he found that two more wolves were now blocking his way.All of the Matoran’s hope and courage was suddenly gone, replaced by a fear that no other can match. His legs locked up, his arms rigid: there was no way out, no hope, no future. The Matoran looked upwards, hoping against hope that something would appear in the sky to save him as often happened in the stories. Finally, just as the Matoran realized that nothing was coming to save him, the first Wolf pounced. There wasn’t even any glory in his death.The Dark Hunt satiated, they howled in unison, warning all people with a simple message: We are the Dark Hunt, and no one escapes us.

 

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

 

Choice #6:

 

"The Fair Dark"

At his feet was a mangled corpse. Though only recently robbed of life, its face was so familiar; he still half expected it to talk to him like it had always done. His name was Dam. At the least, that is what they called him. At one time it had been an honored title. Now it was just a code, a falsity. His real name, along with everything else, had been stripped away. He looked at his companions, lounging around the huts of the village, cloaked in shadows. Their orders fulfilled, they sat and traded small talk. Their recent actions, if not ignored, were talked about in pride. Dam was horrified, but couldn’t seem to muster any words. How had he come to this? How could he have ever done what he just had? It was a pointless, stupid question. He knew the answer too well. At one time they had called him the Dam of the Rusting Valley for his heroism. For centuries, his actions succeeded in maintaining all danger, natural and otherwise, from the small settlement located at the base of the valley. At one point, he had used his elemental powers to erect a massive stone wall to stop the flooding of the valley by a nearby river.He wasn’t alone. Another Toa, his best friend and closest partner, protected the Matoran inhabitants to the best of their abilities. They were inseparable and trusted each other completely. Together they felt they could do anything. They often clashed with Dark Hunters, who were after the meager resources of the Valley, but, together, were always able to overcome them.Unfortunately, Dark Hunters are rarely willing to give up so easily, or forgive such insults. One fateful day, a large number of Hunters mounted an assault on the Rusting Valley. With all their power, the two Toa were unable to defeat them. And when the Hunters were on the verge of overtaking the village, he murdered them. He wished he could wash away that act, to tell himself that he had only been acting to protect, but he had murdered them in anger and fear. Mustering every last bit of power he had, he opened the floor of the Valley and sent all the Hunters to fall, and then be crushed, by his power. His partner couldn’t face him after that. He knew that a Toa could never act that way, and the Dam knew it as well. So he left. It was an exile that both wordlessly agreed to, and felt was necessary. It didn’t take long for news of this event to reach the ears of the Shadowed One. Enraged, he called for the killer to be brought to him. His punishment would be unique, befitting the severity of his crimes. Lacking a home, the support of his closest friend, and anything to protect, he was apprehended easily. The Hunters broke him down, physically and mentally, to his breaking point. They trained him to work for them and even sent him on missions, in vile hunts, the foulest the Shadowed One could find. Always he was instructed to leave survivors. Their judging eyes pierced him and only added to his torture. He was surprisingly adept at the task, but not a single soul had any delusions about the chance of his survival. Eventually, his last task came to him. His partner, in his absence, had trained and redoubled his efforts to maintain the Valley safe. So the Shadowed One assembled a team to hunt him down, and assigned Dam to lead it. Under the cover of dark, they departed, and overpowered his previous friend. As the Shadowed One hadn’t specified what to do with the village, the others razed it. His previous partner’s pained expression at seeing him with the Hunters, the destruction of their home, finally broke him. He stopped feeling. When, in a last effort, the captive Toa broke free of his bonds and attacked them, he dealt with him, swiftly and brutally. Once the task was done, he had a fleeting moment of lucidity. It was so horrifying he almost went mad again. His friend’s eyes were full of judgment and despair. As Dam stood in the growing darkness, he could feel no similar judging glances from the darkness. Perhaps, he thought deliriously, those in the dark, robbed of sight, are truly the fairest judges… His thoughts were interrupted then. His companions, free from judgment, followed their final orders.

 

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

 

Choice #7:

 

"Grin in the Dark"

The yellow teeth were what made him hesitate. He’d never seen teeth so sordid, stained and pitted, yet smiling the same wide smile, as he watched from far away in the darkness. It made him hesitate, his muscles unwilling to push off the rock he spied from. He didn’t want to go near the Skakdi, he would rather slink away behind a rock and convince himself there would be some better assignment when he opened his eyes again.

Ahkmou was still a coward, but as a Toa of Shadow he had better ways to hide. Teridax had made sure of that. They were connected by that, he thought- never brave enough to get right in the thick of things, fleeing when it went bad... he shook all these frightened thoughts off as he felt a tug on his mind. Makuta was getting impatient, and he was letting his servant know. It was time to finish this hunt.

He slithered from the rock, activating a Kanohi Huna as he crept along the cliffside. The group of Skakdi did not notice the shadows that followed, assuming them to be from the fire that crackled in the center of their group. While some of them growled and grinned stupidly, however, the leader, the one Ahkmou was sent to retrieve, stared from his throne, a few feet away from the action, something bigger in his eyes that was a pale reflection in the others.

Like an animal defending his home, Ahkmou thought as he crept along. Most animals were more afraid of whoever explored their homes than the explorers were. His time exploring Po-Koro, of all places, taught him that. He would attack brutally so he wouldn’t expose his fear, so he could complete the mission, and they would never suspect... He readied his Rhotuka and shadow scythe, listening carefully to the words spoken along the campfire.

“The Brotherhood will exclude our faithful service from their credentials,” the lead Skakdi told his brothers. “They will conquer the world on the impression that they are able to do it on their own, and the world will crumble before them. But they will not realize it was us that helped them, and as the ground crumbles we will be waiting under the rubble. We will show them it is merely their own ground they mine!” He licked his lips in a repulsive way that made Ahkmou shudder as he lined up his weapon to fire.

The first shadow bolt struck silently at one who stepped away from the fire. Noone noticed as he was swallowed by the shadows. The second, he was the same, not realizing the night in which he celebrated was his enemy. Ahkmou pecked off a few more, mustering some courage as others disappeared due to his handiwork without notice. Anonymity granted him bravery, and for the first time that night, he smiled as wickedly as the Skakdi.

Soon the Skakdi began to see the shadows creeping in, not shining out from their fire. The grins were still plastered to their faces, but the puzzle could be seen in their expressions. Ahkmou fired tight-lipped, as if speaking would let his courage leak out; though most of them panicked, the one of the creatures he feared seemed to glow in the dark, his plaque filled smile brighter as the Toa of Shadow increased his fire.

He was crouching low on the rock he shot from, but somehow he slipped, and went tumbling down. Ahkmou crashed into the center of the campsite, and to the view of all of the Skakdi. The element of surprise was gone, and he waited for them to swarm upon him.

The blade at his throat was not meant to penetrate, but Ahkmou wished it did. His eyes remained shut as he felt fear creep back into his mind, trying frantically to replace it with the image of a Kualsi, anything that would help him. But the only thing that came were the words of the Skakdi in his ear. “You heard what we said. Flee to your master, and tell them of the Karzahni that will arrive at their door soon enough.” The pause was enough to send Ahkmou speeding out of the cave and back to Destral.

As the Toa of Shadow fled, the beasts recovered their injured and unconscious, their grins returning as the fire lighted the cave once more. The hunter was now the hunted.

[TahuForever!]

Every one of these was pretty good. I thought the one about the Kikanalo and the one about the music box were especially creative. I can't get over how creative and funny is the idea that The Shadowed One has a music box. And yet it works. Ultimately I chose that one, although I almost went with #3.

Edited June 30, 2013 by Takuaka: Toa of Time

[Excelsior]

I voted for 4.

 

-Excelsior

[BBBBalta]

Voted for 4 because Kikanalo.

[Velox]

Polling period over; topic closed.