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This article was written by ChineseLegolas. Please do not add to it without the writer's permission.
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Elantra, Toa of Psionics Pron: e-LAN-truh
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Specifications
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| Spoiler [Highlight to read] |
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Like the rest of her team, Elantra is only able to recall a false set of memories, implanted by me. Below is her recounting of her past. ~Infernum [Spoiler end] |
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History
I lived in a cave on the Southern Continent with three of my lil' uns and spent most of my days hunting, terrorizing the two-legs, and sleeping. Truth be told, it was mostly sleeping. Each day, I'd make my rounds around my home, making sure my territory hasn't been encroached upon. The northern cliff, then all the way down to the southern edge of the clearing. Then, I go where fate takes me. If it tells me to take a long nap, I take a long nap. If it tells me to find some prey, I find some. You may have already figured out that I was a Muaka. It's good to be a Muaka, I'll have you know. You simply live life as it is. There's nothing, really, to trouble you. Oh, there was this one time. Normally, people who seek me are little green two-legs. You can hear their loud yapping from furlongs away, they're never a problem for me. Ah, but one day, one day, there was a hunter worthy of my praise. Silent as can be, graceful, yet powerful. Though still a tiny two-leg, he was gray and black. That made no sense to me. Why would his pelt be that kind of colour when you stalk the forest? He managed to sneak up on me, nearly buried his spear into my side, too. With a yowl, I snapped and snarled, driving him away, but he would not leave me be. It was the day of reckoning. The nearby village must have sent him to kill me once and for all. I can respect that. He is brave, willing to face me in the ring of honour in a fight to the death. A bit foolhardy, but valiant nonetheless. The two-leg was armed with a simple sharpened pole and I with what nature gave me. But imagine my consternation as I saw the little one raise the stick to his face. A blowdart! I have seen those before. Devilish contraptions. One prick of the paralysing projectiles and I'd be done for. He huffed, and he puffed... and he sneezed. Oh, my. The dart goes straight down and punctures his own foot. Immediately, a strange clear liquid pours out of the dart. Water? No. Of course not. Water doesn't eat away at metal. Matters took a turn for the strange after that. In the high-pitched, squealing tongue of the two-legs, the hunter began to yell. Of course, I did not know his language, but any fool could see that he was crying for help. A Muaka such as myself is too noble of a creature to turn away even when the enemy is crying for assistance. But even a Muaka would hesitate to amputate a limb. You see, we tend to swallow our prey whole. Yet, the little Matoran kept miming a chopping motion over his leg, or rather, what was left of it. So I did it. I bit his leg off. It didn't taste particularly good and it was rough on my teeth, but the deed was done. It was my first time biting a two-leg, and most certainly my last. All their little wires and gears would probably rip my insides open if I tried to eat them. And I bet they weren't even two hundred calories. 'You two interest me.' I whirl, looking for the source of the voice. Another Muaka? 'Down here.' Another two-leg! The forest is just crawling with them today. No, no, wait. How is a two-leg speaking to me? And what more disconcerting is the fact that the hunter also seems to understand the newcomer's words, half-unconscious from pain as he is. 'You are in the presence of a Great Being. Bow before me.' Oh, I sure lowered my head, alright. I lowered it until I was close enough to bit his head off. "Who's... there?" The wounded hunter groans. He could understand the newcomer? How? "Speaking in tongues is no matter for a being of my power. Now, come. The three of us have much to discuss." With a careless wave of his free hand, he cauterizes the amputee's injury and beckons with the staff in his other hand. |
  Appearances
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| The Nameless Team
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