Axonn: Conqueror of the World

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The Hand of Artakha was gone.

 

He'd seen it coming, really. The emergence of Toa teams had made them redundant, protectors of a world that no longer needed them. They would no longer have to traverse the universe, dealing with issues as they emerged. Heroes would already be there. What use were they, when some hoity-toity self-proclaimed guardian of a backwards village in Nowhere Nui could have everything resolved in less than two shakes of a Tahtorak's tail, and have time to fix up the mess created by such a titanic beast as well? It was really disillusioning. For a long time, Axonn thought that he could do something, be a man integral to the fate of the world. But no. It seemed as if Destiny had decided against it. The life he had committed himself to had fallen apart so easily. It only took a simple meeting.

 

So that's why he decided to subjugate a random village on the Southern Continent.

 

It'd been a pretty good idea at first. He'd been lacking in heart, and someone had told him during a visit to Stelt's bars that beating people up and taking their money was a great way to make one feel complete. Enlightened (and possibly drunk - who knows?), Axonn had found himself the closest group of weak-looking midgets and cut apart their sacred tree with one swing of his mighty axe, immediately gaining their fear and respect. It'd been great. There was really something to it that made life look ... brighter. At the time, he felt absolutely purposeless, and finding a new career as a conquering warlord seemed to be a step in the right direction.

 

But as time went on, it started to get boring. Hearing the lamentations of Turaga after he'd looted their temples for Kanohi Masks had gotten old after the fiftieth occurrence. There was no fun without a challenge. None of the heroes he faced really did their Duty and faced him bravely. None of the villages in his path ever showed Unity in order to fight against him. Had he really made the right decision? Was it really his fate to swing away at thousands of Matoran and Toa and Turaga who put up less of a fight than that one Brakas Monkey he'd saved a village from during his Hand days? They couldn't even lie to him! His Rode had turned on accidentally some thousand years back, and he wasn't able to deactivate it.

 

Truly, his life was suffering.

 

One day, that changed.

 

"You look horrible," declared Hydraxon, the masculine master of might and mercurial morality having approached him after his last conquering bender. "The warlord life really isn't for you."

 

"Says the prison guard in some backwards sea that nobody's even heard of" was what he wished to reply, but all Axonn could vocalise was a tired "mruuuugggh".

 

"People will fear the Pit one day," shot back his former Hand colleague, having developed an affinity for the axe-wielder's ramblings in their years of working together. "Who will remember the lumberjack who's been conquering the exact same circle of villages for the past two millennia?"

 

It was true. He had been conquering villages left and right, but those he left behind would soon be retaken, forcing him to return upon completing the campaigns he had been occupied with. How other warlords managed to hold onto their territory, he never knew, but maybe it had something to do with a standing army ...

 

"Also you look bloody smashed and research has shown that being smashed has a negative effect on the overall health of the universe."

 

"Muuurrrrgh."

 

Hydraxon stylishly sidestepped the wild axe-swing. It was frightfully simple to do so; Axonn was not in the best of states, after all.

 

"Seriously mate, you should do something else. Helryx's getting the old band back together. Wanna tag along?"

 

That was a tempting offer. Did he really want to give up the conquering life to become a hero again?

 

"We've got more than just Energy Hounds as minions this time. There'll be someone to polish your axe."

 

Well, the offer was sealed.

 

"I suppose there is no reason why not," he said immediately, brightening up. He'd had his fun as a warlord. It was time to change his ways for the better and engage in spuriously legal heroics with his team of misfits once more.

 

Although ...

 

"Have you approached Shadow Stealer yet?" asked Axonn.

 

The other being snorted.

 

"He said something about not wanting to be around if you are," was the reply. "You two still haven't buried the hatchet?"

 

"No. I have an ax to grind against his ways."