Writing Post 11
Title: Heroes
Series: Bionicle (Bionicle is property of the Lego Company)
Rating: PG
Word count: 752
A hero.
That’s what he was supposed to be. A mighty warrior to protect those who are innocent and have done no wrong. Someone who fought fairly and acted justly. Someone who could be looked up to for the good deeds they’ve done and for the wrongs they’ve righted. So why didn’t he feel like a hero?
Of course; he’d righted wrongs, thwarted villains (he still wondered why the Great Spirit even allowed villains to exist, life would’ve been easier and he would’ve lived out his life as a matoran), and villagers everywhere he went had heard of his exploits and gave him praise. But he still didn’t feel like a hero.
The chain of his tool (it was a weapon in reality, Toa just preferred to call them tools, it sounded less threatening) groaned as he gave it a strong yank, his opponent flying through the air towards him with a yelp. Even for one so fearful in visage and titanic in size, being pulled off your feet by someone half your size is sure to startle even the staunchest warrior.
Using his power over gravity was like second nature. He was so skilled with it at this point in his life, he often left people wondering what element he actually controlled. Without even the wave of a hand, a wall of rock tore free from the ground in front of him, his hapless foe sailing into, and through, the mass to land in a crumpled heap behind him.
Small clouds of dust rose around his feet as he started to turn about, increasing the gravity bearing down on his foe to keep him down. He could actually hear the warrior’s armor creak from the stress, a small frown forming behind his mask. Without a word, he trudged over to the body, crouching down in front of the being’s face as it struggled to free itself from the crushing force being exerted upon its body.
“What are you doing here, Toa.” the being, a Dark Hunter (a band of unscrupulous mercenaries), snarled. “Our information said this city was unprotected!”
“It was.” the Toa answered, poking the Dark Hunter’s head absently. “I happened to wander through at the right time, and you the wrong.”
The Dark Hunter snarled again at the Toa’s words, struggling harder to break free, intent on breaking the supposed hero in two for the insult. “I would’ve killed you if you hadn’t used your powers.”
The Toa looked almost amused at the Hunter’s words, but his response was as flat as ever. “Really? Because I didn’t use them until the very end of the fight.”
Getting back to his feet, the Toa ignored the Hunter’s ranting and raving about how that was a lie. His right hand reached to his left forearm, removing the blade that was normally attached to it. In a swift and unexpected movement, the Toa drove the blade into the Hunter’s right shoulder, twisting it to severely damage his muscles. He made a point of ignoring the howl of pain and the subsequent whimpering that resulted from his leaving the blade in the Hunter’s shoulder. Turning away to look at the city, the Toa began to speak again, in a tone much darker than most heroes would feel comfortable using.
“I know how your organization works, and I don’t rightfully care. Your only option is to leave, or I’ll do The Shadowed One’s job for him.” Spinning around, he snatched his blade from the Dark Hunter’s shoulder and returned his gravity to normal. “Now flee.”
Almost giving the fight a second go, the Hunter decided against it since his shoulder was ruined. Getting to his feet as he clutched his right shoulder, he gave the Toa one last look before deciding to take his chances with The Shadowed One.
Cheers could already be heard from the matoran that poured out from the city, even before the Dark Hunter was out of sight. They gathered around the Toa as he gathered up his tool, smiles on their faces and words of praise leaving all their mouths. The Turaga was the only one to hang back, his eyes meeting those of the Toa for the briefest of moments, an unspoken understanding held between them.
Toa were indeed great warriors and heroes of the Great Spirit Mata Nui. There were some better than others. Some much worse than others. Trosq was somewhere in between those who were just and those who were violent.
He was no hero.
Series: Bionicle (Bionicle is property of the Lego Company)
Rating: PG
Word count: 752
A hero.
That’s what he was supposed to be. A mighty warrior to protect those who are innocent and have done no wrong. Someone who fought fairly and acted justly. Someone who could be looked up to for the good deeds they’ve done and for the wrongs they’ve righted. So why didn’t he feel like a hero?
Of course; he’d righted wrongs, thwarted villains (he still wondered why the Great Spirit even allowed villains to exist, life would’ve been easier and he would’ve lived out his life as a matoran), and villagers everywhere he went had heard of his exploits and gave him praise. But he still didn’t feel like a hero.
The chain of his tool (it was a weapon in reality, Toa just preferred to call them tools, it sounded less threatening) groaned as he gave it a strong yank, his opponent flying through the air towards him with a yelp. Even for one so fearful in visage and titanic in size, being pulled off your feet by someone half your size is sure to startle even the staunchest warrior.
Using his power over gravity was like second nature. He was so skilled with it at this point in his life, he often left people wondering what element he actually controlled. Without even the wave of a hand, a wall of rock tore free from the ground in front of him, his hapless foe sailing into, and through, the mass to land in a crumpled heap behind him.
Small clouds of dust rose around his feet as he started to turn about, increasing the gravity bearing down on his foe to keep him down. He could actually hear the warrior’s armor creak from the stress, a small frown forming behind his mask. Without a word, he trudged over to the body, crouching down in front of the being’s face as it struggled to free itself from the crushing force being exerted upon its body.
“What are you doing here, Toa.” the being, a Dark Hunter (a band of unscrupulous mercenaries), snarled. “Our information said this city was unprotected!”
“It was.” the Toa answered, poking the Dark Hunter’s head absently. “I happened to wander through at the right time, and you the wrong.”
The Dark Hunter snarled again at the Toa’s words, struggling harder to break free, intent on breaking the supposed hero in two for the insult. “I would’ve killed you if you hadn’t used your powers.”
The Toa looked almost amused at the Hunter’s words, but his response was as flat as ever. “Really? Because I didn’t use them until the very end of the fight.”
Getting back to his feet, the Toa ignored the Hunter’s ranting and raving about how that was a lie. His right hand reached to his left forearm, removing the blade that was normally attached to it. In a swift and unexpected movement, the Toa drove the blade into the Hunter’s right shoulder, twisting it to severely damage his muscles. He made a point of ignoring the howl of pain and the subsequent whimpering that resulted from his leaving the blade in the Hunter’s shoulder. Turning away to look at the city, the Toa began to speak again, in a tone much darker than most heroes would feel comfortable using.
“I know how your organization works, and I don’t rightfully care. Your only option is to leave, or I’ll do The Shadowed One’s job for him.” Spinning around, he snatched his blade from the Dark Hunter’s shoulder and returned his gravity to normal. “Now flee.”
Almost giving the fight a second go, the Hunter decided against it since his shoulder was ruined. Getting to his feet as he clutched his right shoulder, he gave the Toa one last look before deciding to take his chances with The Shadowed One.
Cheers could already be heard from the matoran that poured out from the city, even before the Dark Hunter was out of sight. They gathered around the Toa as he gathered up his tool, smiles on their faces and words of praise leaving all their mouths. The Turaga was the only one to hang back, his eyes meeting those of the Toa for the briefest of moments, an unspoken understanding held between them.
Toa were indeed great warriors and heroes of the Great Spirit Mata Nui. There were some better than others. Some much worse than others. Trosq was somewhere in between those who were just and those who were violent.
He was no hero.