“Yeah, I get her. She probably just dipped you ‘cause you were an AWFUL dancing partner” Vizuna saw what she was trying to do and smiled at her. “Excuse me? I’ll let you know that I’m a perfect dancer!” Korgot scoffed while smiling, putting a hand on her side, “Oh yeah? You sure about that, Protector of Jungle?” She teased. Vizuna almost chuckled as he lend out his hand, “Want me to show you, Protector of Earth?”.
Vizuna showing Korgot the Le-Koro dance (Taken from my AU on Ao3).
They're honestly a really cute pair that slowly gets together and it was really hinted at in the Bionicle G2 Novels.
We don’t actually know who got caught first, do we?
We know Lewa was last, or at least close to last, since the villagers’ safety was used as blackmail to get Lewa to put the krana on. I could maybe see one or two Matoran potentially hiding until after Lewa was captured, but then Lewa was forced to hunt them down.
However, we don’t know who was caught first, or just as importantly, second. What if Matau was ambushed while doing a short patrol, and was then forced to put Krana on the villagers he had sworn to protect? What if it was Tamaru, who already has a fear of heights and now has to deal with a fear of him/her/theirself? What if Kongu, who was so proud to protect his villagers, but was made to betray them against his will? What if Ka tried to save him, but was driven back by the Bohrok, or Kongu himself ordered Ka away to keep Ka from being injured further?
Who found a friend alone and seemingly injured, only for them to turn around and force a Krana on their face? Or were they all just swarmed at once and the escapees were hunted down shortly afterwards?
Imagine being held down by your friends and having a body-possessing parasite attached to your face. Imagine being afraid of your friends, your neighbors, the ones who were supposed to protect you but at the same time knowing it isn’t their fault. Imagine the trauma of knowing you had done this to someone you care about.
The jungles of Le-Wahi were dangerous, especially at night. There was always the threat of the fall from the trees, which could kill a Matoran unfortunate enough to slip from their perch. There was the marsh itself. If you fell into that, it would take more strength than that of a Great Pakari to get yourself out. There were also the plants, some of which were poisonous, and others which hankered for the taste of protodermis. And then there were the Rahi of the jungle— some wild on their own, some touched with madness from the evil Makuta. Any way you looked at it, the jungle region of Mata Nui was a hazardous place.
Kongu held tightly onto the reins of Ka as he flew through the night, each of these dangers on the forefront of his mind. The bird rode through the jungle with absolute glee as he led the Gukko Force toward their destination, gleeful for the chance to ride through the darkness. But as the Gukko flew with gleeful thoughts, Kongu glared forward, anxious about what could be between himself, the rest of the Force, and their mission. The roar of a Rahi beast could be heard in the distance, yet it was the quiet in the immediate area which made the Le-Matoran anxious.
Le-Koro was sick, many of the Matoran having fallen ill to a virus. The lethargy and illness the virus spread was felt especially in the Air village, a group of Matoran known for their vibrant personalities. The effects of it rippled throughout the village; Tuuli had not been out to trade for days, and no music had been heard from Sanso and his band in almost a week. Kongu felt rather run down himself, and had prayed to Mata Nui all week that he remained out of the virus’s infectious reach.
No one knew where the virus came from, but Turaga Matau insisted it was the work of the Makuta. Whether it came from Makuta or not, a cure needed to be found. Matau and his cohort, Turaga Nokama of Ga-Koro, had determined a handful of plants, when stewed together, that would produce a healing aroma. The last few days and nights had been spent retrieving the necessary ingredients. All that was left now was this last ingredient, a leaf which could only be found in the depths of Le-Wahi. The leaf glowed, and could only be discerned from other plantlife of the forest by night.
Kongu watched ahead of Ka’s beak, where he could see a glow emerging in the dark. The Le-Matoran breathed a sigh of relief as they drew closer, their goal finally within reach.
The six of them landed. Dismounting their birds, five of their number made their way to the plants, filling empty burlap sacs they had brought with the leaves. Vira hung back with the steeds, chirping at the birds in Turaga Nuju’s language of clicks and whistles. If Makuta’s beasts were out to get the Matoran while they were on their mission, they needed eyes keeping watch out for their safety.
“Does this look ripe?” asked Boreas.
“It doesn’t matter,” Kongu said. “Just grab-seize as much as you can.”
Boreas nodded, working as fast as he could.
They stuck in pairs as they ventured where the plant grew, snatching as much as they could.
To Kongu’s pleasure, he could already see new buds starting to form as they picked the plants.
Much of the flora on Mata Nui were like that. Kongu sensed that the rapid plant growth on the island was somewhat odd, even though he was not an expert on botany and knew life nowhere else.
“Either way, I cannot wait to breathe-smell whatever Turaga Matau and Nokama are going to concoct-brew with all of these ingredient-pieces,” said Boreas. “The air-smells of things they stir-make make my mask tingle with life-joy.”
“This will definitely help-cure our leaf brothers?” asked Shu.
“Have hope-faith,” Kongu replied. “The Turaga are doing what they think will work.”
They continued picking quietly, something hard for Le-Matoran to do. Soon the deed was done, with six burlap bags stuffed to the brim with the leaves.
“Bound-tie them to your saddles, and let’s go-leave,” Kongu said, mounting Ka once more. Tying his bundles to the bird, he readied for the signal from Vira that the Gukko could fly. “Vira, did you not see-find anything?”
Vira put his sickle away, having cleared a path for the birds to launch down. “Deep-jungle is safe-empty,” the marshall signaler nodded. “Prepare-ready for take off!”
Kongu nodded, looking at the darkness in the jungle beyond with almost a sense of relief. Perhaps Makuta and his forces were not out to get them tonight. With their packages secured, he felt far better than when they had set out tonight. Grabbing the reins of Ka, he nodded to Vira. The propulsers on the bird began to fire up, and Ka took off.
They had soared for only a few moments when Ka lurched to the side. Something big had collided with him. The bird screeched in panic. Kongu yanked sharply on the reins, hoping to straighten out, but whatever hung onto the Gukko would not shake off.
“Ka!” Kongu exclaimed. A screech that was not Ka’s made Kongu’s heart sink. As limbs flailed, Kongu could make out the shape of a Brakas monkey clinging to the side of his companion.
“Orkahm! Shu! Look out!” Kongu cried into the darkness behind him. “Visit-company! Of the funky monkey kind!”
Reaching into his pack, Kongu found a bamboo disc. He slung it, and it whacked the Rahi in the head, distracting it for a moment enough to stop clawing at Ka’s side. The Le-Matoran reached for another one, but the monkey leapt at Kongu, teeth and claws bared. Ka thrashed as he tried to stay aloft, suddenly supporting the weight of two instead of just Kongu.
Before he knew it, Kongu was wrestling with a monkey in midair. The Brakas threw a punch at Kongu’s mask, hoping to dislodge it. Kongu caught the punch, struggling to maintain his balance while resisting the Rahi’s strength. Staying in his saddle as best as he could, Kongu lashed out with his free arm to throw off the wild beast. The Brakas stayed, screeching in his face.
“Get far-lost, swamp-breath!” Kongu yelled at it. The Brakas screeched again. His eyes now having adjusted to the dark, Kongu could see the infected mask on the Rahi’s face. He could feel the rotting smell coming from the mouthpiece. The Le-Matoran retched at the stench. He threw a punch with one hand, fumbling with another to grab the reins.
Ka crashed blindly through the branches as the fight continued. The limbs of the trees knocked Kongu in the mask, the shoulders, the arms as they tumbled through them, headed in a direction the Le-Matoran knew not where.
The others would have helped Kongu, but were caught scraps of their own with more of the monkeys. Boreas lashed out with a knife at two Brakas on his mount, while Shu slung discs accompanied with roaring battle cries in response to the shriekers surrounding him. Orkahm tugged fiercely on his reins to try and outmaneuver the onslaught of Rahi, getting his Kewa to fly up and subject his attackers to the forces of gravity. Kongu was on his own for his fight.
And suddenly it was quiet again. The Brakas vanished, and the Gukko force were tumbling through open air. Ka twisted and turned as he tried to straighten out. Kongu tugged hard on the reins, the world whirling past him as they plummeted downward.
The world came up to meet Kongu, and suddenly all movement stopped.
“Unf!” he grunted. All Kongu could feel was the blunt force of the landing rock through his form. He lay there, the wind knocked out of him, and closed his eyes, letting the pain envelop him.
After what seemed like an hour, his eyes opened again. He could start to feel other things. Wet. Pointy. Muddy. Looking around, he realized he was in a marsh.
Sitting up in the mud, Kongu looked around. Little trees could be seen here and there, but most of the region out here was mostly marsh and mud. The Fau Swamp, he realized. It was still Le Wahi, but something else other than what the Le-Matoran traditionally considered their region. They did not necessarily enjoy the region, preferring the treetops where you could vine swing instead of walking. But in the full moon and clear sky that shined tonight, Kongu had to admit it was kind of beautiful out here.
A screech from afar brought Kongu back to his senses. The Brakas were still there, in the jungle not far away. They jeered at him from the darkness, like the cowards Brakas usually were. Tough-brave Matoran survive falls from the forest, Kongu thought. Silly-weak monkeys already screech when falling to another branch. Even with the Makuta controlling them, they are still cowards.
“Is anyone out there?” Kongu called. “Ork? Boreas? Shu?”
A hand came into his vision to pull Kongu to his feet, and he could see the mask of Vira. Beyond them, Ka and Vira’s Kahu bird were uprighting themselves, ruffling their wings.
“Hard-rough crash-landing for you as well?” the marshall asked. Kongu nodded, rubbing his back. He gave a few twists. Something popped, and suddenly his back felt better.
“Where are the others?”
“I spot see someone over there,” Vira pointed north, to where a Gukko was picking itself up out of the marshes. Kongu mirrored his statement, seeing another of their band to the west. Making their way over to each of their members, the Gukko Force slowly picked themselves up from their brush with the wild.
Taiki was the last to be found. They found him closer to the forest than everyone else. He was frantically digging at the mud, his bird pecking at the mud as it tried to help.
“Help!” Taiki cried as he saw them. A hand could be seen in the moonlight, sticking out from the mud. The five of them immediately joined in, scraping at the mud. The birds were not far behind, With a click and whistle from Vira, the Gukkos were pecking at the area with their beaks to loosen the mud for their riders.
“There is someone buried here! Trap buried!”
“But Taiki,” Kongu said. “We are all here. Who could be buried?”
Taiki stopped digging, looking at the masks around him. Everyone else slowed as well, a sense of dread coming over the group. The hand in the mud still stuck out, motionless.
“If we are all here…” he said, panic entering his voice. “Then who is buried?”
They all looked at the hand, and then at each other, anxiety running high through the group. Kongu swallowed hard, and strode over to grab the hand. He pulled, and was met with some resistance, but the mud broke, loosened by their digging.
The moonlight however, did not help the Matoran as they looked at the figure.
It was a Matoran, but at the same time, it was not. Short, wearing dark armor, if just with a different body type, the figure strongly resembled the Gukko Force members standing around it.
But there were things off about the body. It was swollen with water, and partially rotted. But the amount of armor, the tissue sticking out. The ratio of mechanical to organic parts. None of it was right. The thing looked like a Matoran, but there was a lot of evidence to suggest it was not. And from what Kongu felt, it felt nothing like the bodies of Matoran. As if the person was made of something totally else from protodermis.
But the most distinguishable feature that made them certain it was not a Matoran was its mask.
“What make-kind of Kanohi is that?” asked Orkahm.
“That is not a Kanohi,” Shu insisted.
Could it even be a Kanohi? Kongu wondered. Kanohi usually attached to the front of a Matoran’s or Turaga’s face. Perhaps helmet was a better term. This sat on the corpse’s head more like a helmet than like a mask. Three prongs protruded from the back of it, almost snake like in appearance. The mask— if you could call it that— resembled flower and bamboo decorations which the Le-Matoran would adorn on their own Kanohi during one of Matau’s parties, in mock resemblance of a warrior costume.
This helmet was metal, however, and definitely not for decoration.
“What is this? Some sort of alien?” asked Vira.
“It has to be a mutant,” Boreas said.
“What if…” Orkahm said. “What if something lived on Mata Nui before us?”
“No,” Kongu insisted, dismissing Orkahm’s comment. “This has to be some sort of mutated Matoran.”
Any more guesses on the corpse’s identity were interrupted by a scream in the night. The Le-Matoran whirled to see the Brakas monkeys coming from afar, leaping across the marsh toward them. Each of the Le Matoran scrambled for their packs, whipping out discs and preparing themselves for combat. Vira whistled to Ka and the other Kewa and Kahu, which fluttered their wings in response.
“See-look over there!” Orkahm cried. In the moonlight, there could be seen the Brakas scrambling toward the smaller Matoran— but also to the left, there was a single, larger shadow breaking the horizon. A large, tiger like animal could be seen leaping over the marshes, making a beeline for the loud and brash animals that more than likely interrupted its sleep.
“Muaka cat-tiger!” Boreas exclaimed.
The Brakas were so consumed with the Matoran almost in their grasp that they did not see the Muaka before it was too late. It pounced into their group, immediately breaking their formation. A number of the smaller monkeys were scooped up into the tiger-like creature’s jaws. The rest of them were swept aside by the Muaka’s claws, scattered on the marsh just as the Gukko Force had been minutes earlier. Growls and roars emitted from the Muaka rolled over the marshes as the beast reveled in the night’s victory.
“Mount-climb your steeds,” demanded Kongu. “Let’s fly leave of here before we are battle fighting that Rahi. Those are just quick snacks for that tiger.”
“What about the body?” Orkahm asked. Kongu looked at each of them.
“Whoever… whatever that is,” Kongu said. “it has been here without anyone’s concern for a while. I will discuss with Turaga Matau, but we cannot take it home tonight.”
“At least take it’s mask,” Shu insisted. Kongu frowned, but complied.
They arrived back at Le-Koro in the early hours of the morning, greeted only by the night folk that guarded the village during sleep hours.
Kongu approached the door of Turaga Matau’s hut, where a small light shined into the night. The rest of the Force had retreated to their huts to join the sleeping village. Only he remained awake in order to deliver the night’s bounty. He felt awfully tired as he knocked, more tired than he had felt in a number of nights. This was not sickness, he knew that much— this was the night catching up to him.
The Turaga was apparently still up, for Mata Nui only knew what reason. A small grin was on the noble Mahiki at the sight of one of Matau’s favorite villagers, eager for the night’s tale.
“High Flyer, welcome,” Matau said, “What adventures did you have tonight?”
The Matoran handed over the bags of leaves, putting the helmet on top of the pile.
