The Legacy Poll: Heritage

[Velox]

Vote here for your favorite Legacy story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on June 10th at 4:59 AM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Legacy Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 12th round preliminary poll.

• [*]On the Basis of Merit “This must a mistake.” He looked down at his hands. Like the rest of his body, they were now much larger, stronger and sturdier. They were shaking. He turned to look at the others. Five other Toa stood around the large lightstone that had been the centerpiece of the village’s temple. “What are you saying, Ledevas? This is what we needed. Now we can finally protect this village! Even you can see that, can’t you?” It had been a Toa of Magnetism, Portakkli, who had spoken. “No. This isn’t right. This just isn’t right. What was he thinking?” Ledevas looked at the others. He wasn’t surprised at the fact that they were chosen Toa. Portakkli had been the Matoran in charge of guarding the village. Lirgo had been a skilled Ga-Matoran healer. The De-Matoran Beoriff had been the right-hand Matoran to their Turaga. Firiid had been the best Ko-Matoran astronomer in the land. Armedia had been an inventor, using her electrical expertise to achieve great advances. He believed they truly deserved to be here. But he did not. He was a Le-Matoran thief, an untrustworthy parasite on society. He was cowardly and selfish. He did not know how he could have been chosen. “I don’t deserve this. I can’t fight for the village. There is no way they would even want me to fight for them. Toa Criasis was stupid to have chosen me.” Ledevas then went through the unpleasant experience of being punched in the face by a newly-formed Toa of Lightning, her emotions transmitting as an electrical charge. Armedia pulled him close and spoke harshly. “Shut up. Don’t talk like that about Criasis. He gave up his Toa power so that we could fight in his stance. We are what is left of his power. We are his legacy. He may be dead or captured now, but he chose us all for a reason. Unity, Duty, and Destiny: Those are the principles we must live by. It was our Destiny to become Toa, all of us.” She let him go. “You say you’re not worthy of being a Toa? I agree. You’re a common thief. You don’t deserve to serve the Matoran. So make yourself worthy. Be grateful of this new chance. Give back to the village. Honor what Criasis did, do not resent it. It is your Duty, as it is ours, to complete Criasis’s mission. We must stop the Hunters before they run the village to the ground.” Firiid spoke up, “And even if you still don’t believe in yourself, we’ll be there. You don’t have to be so self-pitying. You can’t afford to. Even if there are differences amongst us, even if this isn’t the path we would have chosen for ourselves —and trust me, it isn’t— we must stand together. We owe it to Criasis. We owe it to the Matoran.” “They’re right,” added Beoriff. “It is the legacy of our race. Passed from Turaga to Toa, from Toa to Matoran, to us. Each generation tasks the next with protecting the land. It is our turn now. Even if we feel inadequate, it can’t be helped. We’re stuck with this duty.” “We have to ride it out together,” Lirgo concluded, extending her hand towards him. “Will you come?” “I…” Ledevas didn’t know what to say. He knew they were right. He had been selfish, as he had always been, by decrying his new duty. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t go with them. He could never face Criasis ever again if he did. “I will.” ------[*]Heart Vakama watched as the once-beautiful city of Metru Nui vanished in the mist. He, along with the rest of the Toa Metru, had fulfilled their duty of protecting the Matoran, but he couldn’t help but regret that it was necessary to leave his home behind. Sure, there was a new island up above, but it just wouldn’t be the same. There would be no Turaga Dume to gently lead the Matoran, no Coliseum to gather at for sporting events, and no Toa Lhikan to protect the citizens from danger. It felt like only a short while ago that Vakama had watched the Toa and eventually Turaga that he had admired so much taking his last breath and passing away. At the time, Vakama had been distraught at the death of Lhikan, and he had tried his best to ignore those emotions and act as a leader should. Naturally, that had only led to more misfortune. However, that was in the past and a tale for another time. What mattered was that now, on one of the many airships, he finally had the chance to sit down and think properly. With Lhikan’s death and Turaga Dume’s decision to remain in Metru Nui, the Matoran would inevitable end up looking towards Vakama and his teammates for guidance and protection from the forces of Makuta. It just doesn’t feel right. Only a short while ago we were Matoran ourselves, and now we are expected to protect them. If put into this kind of situation a few weeks prior, Vakama would have likely wished that he was a Matoran again. Now, he felt a degree of acceptance towards what lay ahead. It was their duty, tasked to them by the Great Spirit. It had been the job of other before and it would the duty of yet more in the future, but for now it was their task. Their job. Their duty.

* * *

Six Turaga stood before the recently-awakened Matoran, their smiles outshined only by the expressions of childlike wonderment that covered the faces of the Matoran. It was a new world to them, and also the only world. They had no memories of the past, but that was alright. After all, they had six Turaga there to guide them through whatever hardships they might face. “This is the island of Mata Nui, named in honor of the Great Spirit,” Vakama declared to the Matoran. A few of the Matoran mouthed the words “Mata Nui”, as if the words themselves were a blessing of peace. Looking at the Matoran, Vakama felt a surge of pride for what had been accomplished, and a quiet determination to continue the work that he had begun. Thank you, Lhikan, for trusting us with upholding your legacy. We will keep the heart of Metru Nui safe, even if it is removed from its home; that I promise you. ------[*]The Forgotten Hero He may not have been the cruelest, the bravest, or the wisest, but he was definitely the most cunning. He was a Warlord. He and his five fellow allies had ruled the world. They all thought he was loyal to the cause. But he betrayed them for a common good, the people of the universe. He had sold his soul to the devil. And that devil was the Makuta plague. When he was normal, he ruled the southwest region of the universe. His armies were extremely loyal, but not by choice. In fact, he had hypnotized all of his forces, making them extremely obedient, enough to risk their lives for him. they would not fail him. But right as their plan was about to succeed, the Brotherhood came. A fierce battle followed, faction against faction, blood spilling everywhere, but the seven leaders were safe, negotiating peace.[/font] Peace was not possible. They staged a coup of the ruler of the known universe, and so the six traitors had to pay, even the traitor in their midst. Their heads were to be severed off of their necks and served on a platter to Teridax. But at the last minute, a monstrous being appeared and brought all of his comrades to a large prison, which they realized was called the Pit.[/font] --[/font] The robed being moved to the window in his topmost room of the tower, overlooking Spherus Magna. [/font]That was so long ago, a time nearly forgotten[/font], he thought. His tower was built on the husk of a castle in the northernmost region of Spherus Magna. As such, it ‘s view was not spectacular. The most interesting thing he could see was a patch of green on the horizon. The rest was all just desert with a river snaking through it. He turned back to reflecting on his history.[/font] --[/font] In the Pit he stayed for several thousand years, sitting in his cell, always bored. But then came the giant earthquake. Something crashed into the prison, flooding it with some sort of seawater. But upon contact, he and his fellow inmates began changing. Their bodies began adapting to an underwater world. Then, the jail flooded and cracked, allowing the prisoners to break free. He had been the first one out, and “explored” the ocean water to find a sunken city below the waves. Upon seeing this, he swam back as fast as he could to try to get the “gang” back together; they had been separated for millennia. He has assisted in the torment of the matoran there, almost torturing them.[/font] But then he was employed by the Order. His mission, along with a completely new team, was to seek out the original leader of the Brotherhood, Makuta Miserix. While he was distracted on Artidax, where they had found Miserix some time later, his team’s boat left, stranding him on the island. Some time later still, he confronted three toa who had come to the island to blow up the entire visorak army. Hypnotizing them, he fled in the boat on which the toa had come.[/font] He had heard some rumbling in the universe, and thought [/font]not this again.[/font] But then a giant hole was ripped from the sky, showing the inhabitants a desert world, to which they all fled.[/font] --[/font] And the rest, as they say, is history[/font]. He smiled, an evil grin on a calm exterior.[/font] He was Takadox, Barraki warlord, and they would hear his roar.[/font] ------[/font][/font][*]The Future of the Skrall Amangra and Kurdus looked out over Spherus Magna’s landscape. All around was a world where life thrived… but the Skrall were on the cusp of collapse. They’d chosen the wrong side in the final battle that had revived this world. As the only two Skrall elites in their unit, it would be up to them to decide what to do next. “If only we knew what had happened to our other units…” Amangra whispered. “Scattered. Fled. Without Tuma, we were just holding together until the next defeat… and now that we have faced defeat without a leader, there is no one left regroup everyone. I guess that’s where we come in.” Kurdus was grinning and ambition was flaring in his eyes. This worried Amangra. “What are you suggesting, Kurdus?” “It’s time for us to continue the legacy! We were given names for a reason, Amangra! We were the best, the ones to be looked up to. It up to us to rebuild the Skrall Empire in all its former glory!” “Actually, I had other plans.” “Oh, really?” “Maybe we’ve had the wrong approach. We Skrall have always been the best and strongest fighters, only facing minor setbacks such as that which we are faced with now. But maybe we can use our skills for a different cause. All empires are doomed to eventually fall, Kurdus. They are based on fear and malice, and maybe that just isn’t right.” “Are you crazy? The words you’re uttering are traitorous. You disgrace Tuma himself!” “And what of Tuma? Defeated by this Mata Nui – this wonder-working being that united the wayward tribes of Bara Magna! Look what they could accomplish when they worked for one another out of trust rather than fear! It’s time for the Skrall people to either evolve and adopt their ways… or perish and disappear into the annals of history.” Amangra heard a scraping sound as Kurdus drew his weapon. “So that’s how it will be, then?” “Yes, Amangra. This is. I will kill you before you misguide our people in this way.” And so, Amangra and Kurdus settled their disagreement in the only way Skrall know: with a tribal spear in one hand and a bladed shield in the other. Kurdus struck first, bringing his spear down heavily where Amangra stood. Amangra sidestepped it and then took advantage of the situation, planting his foot on the tip of the spear to prevent Kurdus from lifting it back up. As Kurdus tried in vain to raise his spear for another attack, Amangra lined up a shot and launched a Thornax fruit into Kurdus’ face. Kurdus screamed in pain, but he wasn’t prepared to fall. Kurdus reared back and threw his bladed shield through the air. Unprepared for unusual retaliation, Amangra took the blow and stumbled backward, giving Kurdus an opportunity to free his spear. Amangra attempted to attack, but Kurdus disarmed him with a parry that threw Amangra’s spear out of his hand. Amangra fell back, expecting death. Kurdus towered over Amangra… and then a knife was planted in Kurdus' neck. As Kurdus gasped his last, Amangra looked to his savior, a less experienced Skrall warrior. The other spoke. “I think you’re right. We have to change. I had to save you, Amangra.” “No, not Amangra,” said the veteran. “That was my name during the legacy that must now become forgotten. From now on, call me… The Nameless. You, however have earned a name and I am now in charge. I christen you: Kurd-bane.” Kurd-bane and The Nameless were ready… ready to shift the paradigm of their entire race. -------[*]Carts in The Wind A thousand words can tell a story, a carved wall can tell the tale. But neither one lives and breathes, nothing really lives on after death. They are the remnants of the lives of the lucky, those who show themselves to be worthy, the rest are nothing more than passing mentions in the tales of those deemed worthy of legend. The greatest of heroes and the darkest of villains get mentions and stories, they never die, living on a cold, lifeless existence long after their deaths. But for those who are not, we fade away into oblivion, never to even be thought of again. I'm not a great hero, nor am I a monstrous evil, I am merely a Matoran. I've worked my life away keeping the lives of others from halting, I built the carts that are used to mine deep underground, and in my carts are carried the resources that are used in our everyday lives. I'm unimportant overall, I'll never be worthy of legend. But I get my job accomplished, and I help make it easier for others to work. The tale of Mata Nui, and the legacy of the Matoran Lhii, those are what you hear of if you wish to know something of interest from the past. You see nothing of the other countless numbers who have given their lives to make it easier for others. But I suppose I shouldn't be jealous. Both Mata Nui and Lhii have done great things for us, and I've just been building carts. But it would be nice if people knew who I was now that I'm gone. But I suppose that's too much to ask for merely a villager. I wonder if anyone will even care now that I'm gone? I suppose not. The carts should last for many centuries, I built them to be strong and resilient. So I guess that I'll eventually be the passing thought of others. Someone may wonder where they can get their carts repaired, but they will probably just find another. I shall just vanish as though I never really existed. A slight memory in a sea of thought, that's all we are. I suppose there is no point now, It's too late for me to prove myself a hero, to create new legends. But I guess it wouldn't be much of a story. 'Come Matoran, to hear the tale of Harvic, the great builder of carts! Without his care and work, our mines would not be what they are today'. Even then, I can't help but be proud of what I accomplished, even if it was only helping others. I guess the legacy I'll leave behind is only the slightest impact upon the world. But that is enough, all legends eventually die, but a creation can last longer than memories. My carts allow the world to continue, they are my legacy. My carts shall live on forever! ------

[Excelsior]

I voted for 5.-Excelsior

[Ballom Nom Nom]

Voted for three, although five was close as well.~B~

[Velox]

Really hard to choose between 3 and 5. In the end, though, I ended up going with 5.

[Space: Ocean of Awe]

I chose 4, but 5 was my next choice.=)

[Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa]

These were all exceptionally creative interpretations of the theme. I liked #1 and #5 especially, but the latter got my vote for the perspective in which it cast legends and the legacies of the little known. It revealed how something as dramatic and grandiose as a legend . . . can be merely superficial and inane.

From the desk of Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

[Velox]

Polling period over; poll closed.