Myths and Legacy

War Trophies

Written by BobTheDoctor27

Ducking for cover amidst the scalding volcanic vents, the Dark Hunter known as Gatherer tended to his singed breastplate. Looted from a Steltian, the metal was not designed to handle the intense heat of the geyser field he now found himself in. Plucking it off, he discarded it and turned his attention back to the mission.

The contract had originated from a Vortixx tradeswoman, whose business had been ravaged by the Toa he now found himself locked in battle with. After setting the merchant’s workshop ablaze and destroying her livelihood, the gilded guardian had become the subject of a sizable bounty.

Newly-recovered from an injury sustained on his last mission and overstaying his welcome in the chamber that constituted Odina’s medical center, Gatherer had been sent to the outskirts of this village, in the remotest corners of the Eastern Isles. A sink or swim situation, for The Shadowed One tolerated neither failure nor medical expenses lightly.

Sensing a window of opportunity, Gatherer charged a Rhotuka, took aim and fired from his vantage point. To his dismay, however, the spinner sailed over the Toa’s head, dealing no damage whatsoever. Alerted to his position by the stray Rhotuka, the Toa turned and launched a powerful burst of fire at the rock Gatherer was sheltering behind. Like a Kinloka he scurried away, barely dodging the attack.

Not a Sanok, he thought to himself, crossing the Mask of Accuracy off from the list in his head.

Calculating his next move, Gatherer studied the Toa, who lingered amidst the geyser pockets. The data profile on this particular target had been corrupted, meaning that key details were missing from his mission brief. For some of his more impulsive colleagues, such as Charger or Devastator, research amounted to little advantage. But Gatherer was meticulous and Toa were unpredictable targets to say the least. He liked to know who and what he was dealing with beforehand.

Up until now he had been trying to determine the Toa’s mask power, which did not appear obvious. He had witnessed no impossible backflips, no displays of great strength and no shape shifting, which ruled out a few already.

“I’ve heard of you. Gatherer, right? You’re that Dark Hunter who collects armor. Bit creepy if you ask me, but I suppose even psychopaths need hobbies.”

Refusing to be baited by the Toa’s words, the Dark Hunter held his position, knowing all too well that moving at this point could cost him far more than his dignity. His opponent did not seem to know his precise location, which eliminated Masks of X-Ray Vision, Sensory Aptitude and Sonar, but he seemed more than comfortable with lethal force.

“I thought Toa didn’t kill,” he instead challenged.

“Oh, I won’t kill you, Dark Hunter,” came the reply. “But there’s nothing in the Toa Code preventing me from boiling you alive in that borrowed armor.”

A worthy retort, but Gatherer remained unimpressed. He had encountered many Toa who were flexible in their commitment to the Code. They tended not to last long once they made a name for themselves.

Scanning the geyser field, Gatherer caught sight of a distant rock edifice, which protruded from the volcanic lowlands. If he could make his way towards it masked by the mist then he would have both the strategic high ground and a clear line of sight.

Laying down covering fire to occupy his adversary, Gatherer made a break for the outcrop. No sooner had he taken two steps, however, the ground beneath his armored feet had erupted. A jet of hot, toxic water struck him directly in the chest, catching his exposed breast and spurting up his face and arms. The Dark Hunter screamed as the jet scalded him, taken aback by the unexpected geyser.

Owing to experiments in his past, Gatherer’s enhanced pain threshold dulled the sensation somewhat, but the delicate organics housed within his armor were severely burnt. He would surely feel that in the morning.

“You are a clumsy one, aren’t you?” taunted the Toa.

Again, Gatherer refused to rise to the challenge. Nursing his singed breast, he continued to hobble towards the cliff.

Not a Kakama, he thought to himself.

Not a Calix.

A passive Kanohi was seeming more and more likely. But why hadn’t he used his mask yet? What hidden advantage did this Toa possess? All too often Gatherer’s cohorts had underestimated the capacity of Toa to surprise them. And with all the shapes and sizes of Kanohi coming out of the world’s foundries these days, it was becoming increasingly important to determine what he was going up against.

“I guess The Shadowed One is hiring just about anyone these days, huh? Perhaps you didn’t get the message when we kicked you out of Metru Nui?”

Whirling around, Gatherer took aim and fired off a quick succession of Kanoka disks at the loud-mouthed target. Favoring a mix of Weaken and Reconstitute at Random Kanoka, he eagerly awaited the result as one of the disks found its target.

But instead a warm, golden glow characteristic of a Regeneration Kanoka emanated from the Toa. He staggered back a step then chuckled.

“How thoughtful of you.”

Growling with internal frustration, Gatherer launched another round of Kanoka. All too late it seemed, for the Toa anticipated this and cartwheeled aside. Even if just for an instant, the Dark Hunter lost himself to a blinding fury, anger spurning inside him.

How could he have been so careless as to mix a Regeneration Kanoka in with his arsenal? Moreover, of the disks he had fired, why did that have to be the one that found its target?

Gatherer paused, a thunderbolt of realization striking him.

What were the chances?

Perhaps he had been going about this all wrong.

Knotting his brow in concentration, he considered his opponent with a fresh perspective. What was the one characteristic all Ta-Matoran had in common? What was the principle they valued above any other? What set the forges of Ta-Metru apart from the tool shops of Nynrah?

Mathematics.

Feeling a strategy beginning to take shape, Gatherer made another break for the rock edifice at the edge of the geyser, confident that his over-eager adversary would give chase.

“Appear weak when you are strong,” Ancient had once told him. “Deception is the greatest weapon a Dark Hunter can wield.” Today those words rang true.

Reaching the cliff face, Gatherer turned to face the Toa, who tailed him closely. Backing against the barren outcrop, the Dark Hunter pulled a sour expression. He was cornered.

Exactly where he needed to be.

There he stood, pinned against the cliff, as though he were a living target in a shooting gallery, daring the Toa to hurl a fireball. Of course, he probably wouldn’t. Gatherer knew the psychology of Toa. So undeserving of the adoration the Matoran poured onto them. So reluctant to do that which needed to be done. He could see the indecision written all over the Toa’s features.

Unfettered by the restraints of such troublesome conscience, however, Gatherer chose that moment to enact the first stage of his plan. Firing a blind bolt from his Energy Cannon at the top of the cliff whilst jolting to the side, he triggered a small avalanche of debris.

This was his window.

With an almighty crunch, the sulfurous chunks of rock began crashing and tumbling down towards the dueling pair. Reacting on instinct, the Toa activated his Kanohi, his focus captured by the cascading stones, only just registering that the move had been a feint, for even now it appeared the rocks would fall short, missing their target entirely.

Because there was no target.

It had been a wild shot serving the exclusive purpose of drawing his attention. The Dark Hunter hadn't even checked the angle as he fired. Now, as he attempted to deactivate his mask, it dawned on him that it was already too late.

Gatherer had moved in behind the Toa, his Protosteel Spear drawn. With a roar of primal triumph, he plunged the tip deep into his startled adversary’s midsection, piercing armor and organics alike until the tip tore through the Toa’s back.

Gasping in pain, the target slackened, eyes wide and mouth agape. By the time the short rockslide had ceased it was all over.

“But… how?” wheezed the Toa, struggling limply on the end of the spear, sparks flying from the hole cleaved in his torso.

“Simple process of elimination,” shrugged Gatherer. “Took me a while to figure it out, but you were manipulating the probability of every action: making my weapons misfire, triggering geysers, even increasing the chances of a Regeneration Kanoka being in my arsenal. Sounds like creative use of a Mask of Possibilities. Unfortunately for you, though, that Kanohi only works on one subject at a time. Focus on any one scenario for too long and you leave yourself open to the unexpected.”

All color seemed to drain from the warrior’s features. Gatherer eventually lowered his Protosteel Spear, allowing his fallen enemy to slide off into a broken heap on the ground. He now possessed the unmistakable likeness of a swatted Niazesk - so full of energy just a moment prior, now twitching and spasming as he clung onto life.

Reaching forward, Gatherer cleaved a piece of the Toa’s chestplate off, ignoring the weak volley of screams that accompanied it. He examined it intimately before connecting it to the gap in his own armor. Good as new.

Wheezing his final few lungfuls of air, the Toa of Fire glared at the Dark Hunter towering above him. Now it was Gatherer’s turn to grin.

“Don’t take it personally,” he said, thumping the dying Toa on the back. “That mask will go on to make an excellent codpiece…”