I’m writing up a three-part series in which I look at backstories of some of my more obscure/mysterious characters. Each part of the series will also be broken up into separate parts to make it more manageable. The first of these stories is The Jungle, which focuses on Quilani, a Le-Matoran archeologist.
Quilani panted as he sprinted across the jungle floor. The twisted roots of trees and thick, tangled underbrush threatened to trip him with every step. If he wasn’t a Le-Matoran, he realized, he’d be dead already.
Something barked behind him. He could feel its hot breath on his neck. The trees ahead of him looked to be thinning out. If he could just make it to the clearing, maybe he could escape… but his pursuer’s barks were growing louder, its breath more intense. The Matoran could practically feel its jaws clamping around his neck. Just a few more feet…
A root caught around his right foot just as he was about to clear the trees. His ankle was wrenched out of place as his body was thrown forward - but not into a clearing. Rather, he tumbled down a steep decline, hitting tree trunks and rocks on the way down. Finally he landed in a thick clump of weeds, ferns, and flowers surrounded by more jungle. Though his eyesight was blurry, he could make out the form of some kind of canine Rahi on the ledge maybe thirty feet above him, sniffing the air.
Quilani held his breath. If the creature heard him… he didn’t want to think about that.
There was a noise. Faint and too indistinct to make out any words, but it caused the Rahi to spin around and bound away.
The Le-Matoran let out his breath in a long, pained sigh. His head throbbed, so did his ankle, and he was pretty sure he had broken his right forearm. His backpack was entirely crushed, which he reckoned might have saved him from breaking his spine too. Placing a hand on his stomach, he slowly sat up, wincing as sharp pain shot through his chest. Maybe he had broken a rib too.
I need to move, Quilani realized. That dog would be back after finding another way down. If he stayed, it would be the end of his journey. So, with great effort, Quilani pushed himself to his feet. Luckily his left leg was in good enough condition to support him. The Matoran limped out of the undergrowth and into the jungle.
It wasn’t long before Quilani found a sturdy stick. Using it to support himself, he was able to move a little faster. Where am I even going? I’m so far from the temple. I have no clue where I am. Walking aimlessly is just as bad as staying where I was. But I guess I don’t have any choice, do I?
While he was complaining in his head, Quilani didn’t notice where he was walking. To his credit, though, the net trap was expertly hidden amongst the foliage and dead leaves. He didn’t realize anything was amiss until the net sprang up around him, lifting him into the air and closing in around him. The Matoran yelped as he was hoisted up.
“That’s just great,” he mumbled, squirming against the ropes. He slithered one hand over to his hip, where he kept a switchblade. His fingers clasped around the handle, but just as they did, pain shot through his arm. Jerking his arm back, Quilani hissed in pain. The motion knocked the knife loose and it slipped through a hole in the net. “No!”
Quilani waited in the net for what felt like days. He contemplated what would happen to him when whoever laid the trap found him. Would he be eaten? Sold into slavery? Would his head be mounted on a wall? Or maybe, just maybe, the trapper was meaning to catch Rahi, and would be kind enough to let him go? The thought caused him to snort.
The sun was starting to go down now. How long had he been here? It was just past noon when he found the temple. He spent an hour or two exploring it. While he was translating some text on the south wall, that dog came out of nowhere and started chasing him. That meant he’d probably been stuck for four or five hours now. Just g-
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Footsteps! Something was trudging towards him from behind. Stomach twisting, Quilani braced for his coming demise…
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” a voice crowed. “A lost Matoran. Stray too far from your village, little one?”
Quilani stayed silent.
The voice chuckled. Quilani heard the shink of a sword unsheathing, and not a moment later he came crashing down to the forest floor. Landing with a thud, Quilani spun around and sat up to face the stranger.
Two thick legs ending in clawed feet stood over him. His torso was broad, but his arms and legs were wiry and clearly quite agile. In his left hand was a jagged machete. Green energy glowed beneath his black armor, illuminating the darkening forest. Fur covered his shoulders and upper chest, and his head was framed by two large shoulderpads. His mask was twisted and blackened, fringed by the same green glow. Perhaps most notable, though, were the giant antlers sprouting from the being’s skull.
No, not sprouting, Quilani realized. They were mounted on.
The being leaned forward, his bright green eyes scouring the Le-Matoran’s body. “A fine specimen, you are. Fast and agile. I wasn’t expecting that from an academic. That will make this all the more interesting. What is your name, Matoran?”
“Qui- Quilani.”
“Well, Quilani, consider yourself in luck. You will not die today.”
“I won’t?”
“No. But perhaps you will tomorrow.”
Suddenly the figure’s left foot lashed out, striking Quilani right in the forehead. The blow knocked his head into the ground. Between the kick and the collision, it felt like his head was about to split in two. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. Just before he succumbed to the bliss of unconsciousness, he felt fingers close in around his leg.
“Le-Matoran! Wake up!”
Quilani grumbled something indecipherable, his eyes still firmly shut. Now that he was awake, though, an awful, rotting smell pierced his nose, almost causing him to recoil.
“Come on!”
Something shook his shoulder, sending pain shooting through it. Quilani gasped and sat up, his eyes snapping open.
“Finally!”
Quilani whipped his head from side to side, his eyes wildly scanning his surroundings. It was dark. Stark white bars surrounded him. They cast long shadows in a faint orange light. The chirps and rustles of the jungle were mixed with the crackling of a fire and the snoring of a Rahi nearby. To his right was a Po-Matoran, and to his left were two Bo-Matoran, both sleeping.
“What…” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes with his good hand.
The Po-Matoran jerked his head towards the fireplace. “Umarak just left.”
“Who?”
“The Hunter.”
Quilani huffed. A voice in his head told him he should try to escape, but his entire body was aching, and honestly he just wanted to go back to sleep. So he slumped onto his back and closed his eyes.
“Hm. You are the least talkative Le-Matoran I’ve met.”
Quilani made a vaguely affirmative grunt.
“Umarak doesn’t like it when we talk. So I waited until he left before waking you.”
The Le-Matoran made no response. Hopefully that chatterbox would just assume he was asleep.
“I’ve been here the longest. Mhm. He caught me right on the edge of the forest. I’ve counted the sun rise six times since.”
Quilani discreetly covered his ears. Please just shut up.
“I don’t really know what he plans to do with us. You’d think if he was going to kill or eat us, he’d do it by now, right? Maybe he just likes the company. But then, why would he want us to be quiet?”
I can think of a few reasons why.
“You know-”
Crack. Crunch.
The Po-Matoran’s voice dropped to a loud whisper. “He’s coming, be quiet!”
Yes, please.
The footsteps grew louder. Quilani opened his eyes a crack and saw the hunter approaching the cage, something Matoran-sized slung over his shoulder. He tossed it into the enclosure, the thing striking the ground with a loud thud. Umarak dusted off his hands and trudged to the fireplace, where he sat until Quilani drifted back to sleep.
He was awoken again by a howl. His eyes flew open and he bolted up again. It was bright out now, and Quilani could see more of the camp. There was a tent to his left made of brown canvas. To his right was what could only be considered a pile of corpses. That must’ve been where the rotting smell came from. It looked to be mostly Rahi, but he could definitely see a few Matoran and Skakdi in there too.
Rustling in the bushes directly opposite the cage drew Quilani’s attention. Two ferocious dog-like Rahi emerged from the greenery. One had brown hide, the other green, but both had wide, snarling jaws filled with vicious teeth.
Just as the two Rahi prowled into the camp, Umarak followed. In the morning light he was a bit less intimidating (a bit). His eerie green glow was muted, and his pose was more relaxed - shoulders slumped, arms folded behind his back. On the other hand, now Quilani noticed the giant axe on his back.
“Good morning, Matoran. I hope you all slept well.” He smirked. “You’ll need it.”
Quilani glanced at his companions. There was another Matoran in the cage, a Ga-Matoran. He realized the Po-Matoran looked half-starved, and the two Bo-Matoran were sullen and thin. Perhaps Quilani had been a little hard on him…
“You must be wondering what I plan to do with you. I doubt you’ll like the answer - but it does present you with an opportunity for escape. You see, I have long been searching for the most dangerous game. For millennia, I have hunted beasts and monsters. I even took to designing Rahi to specifically make them more difficult to track, capture, or kill. Even so, the hunt was still… predictable. I figured the issue was that I designed them, so of course I would have an unfair advantage. I knew every inch of their biology. So I had to get more creative with my quarries.
“I started hiring bounty hunters and sending them to these woods. Just petty mercenaries looking for a quick Widget, of course - wouldn’t want to bring the might of the Dark Hunters on me. And that worked… for a time. But even the greediest and stupidest of criminals got wise and stopped coming. I was fine with that. Most of them were Skakdi and Stelt brutes. I realized while hunting that it wasn’t strength or power that made for an interesting hunt, no. It was intelligence. And few beings are more intelligent than the Matoran.
“I was not disappointed. Though yes, many were simply cowards who tried to run, there were some who fought back. Some constructed their own traps, or fashioned their own weapons. In fact, one even managed to escape after slaying three of my pets. So, I am now convinced: Matoran are the most dangerous game.”
Quilani could feel the Po-Matoran quivering next to him. On a good day, the Le-Matoran figured he might have a chance. But after that fall yesterday? He’d be lucky if he lasted ten minutes.
Umarak continued. “Here is how this hunt will work. I will release you, and you are free to scamper off. After twenty minutes, I will send my dogs after you. Five minutes later, I will join the hunt myself. I think that gives you ample opportunity to escape.”
The Po-Matoran leaned in close to Quilani. “Can I work with you?”
Quilani made no response.
Umarak raised his hand, and the white spikes that made up the cage lifted with it. They floated in the air just above Quilani’s head.
“Run along now, Matoran. The clock is ticking.”
The two Bo-Matoran scrambled to their feet and sprinted away, pushing and shoving each other along the way. The Ga-Matoran looked around, panicked, before following them.
Quilani was smart enough to know he shouldn’t follow the others. There was safety in numbers, yes, but it also made them a bigger target. So instead, he limped in the direction of the tent.
Seeing this, the Po-Matoran charged over. He grabbed Quilani by the waist and lifted him up. Despite his emaciated frame, he was still a Po-Matoran, and still strong. He ran out of the camp with Quilani slung across his back.
“Where to?” he asked as soon as they were gone.
“We need to find water.”
“Water! On it!” The Po-Matoran suddenly changed direction. “I think there’s a stream somewhere close by!”
“You think?”
“Well, I don’t know. But I’ve seen Umarak put out his fires with buckets of water, so there’s got to be one somewhere!”
“Alright, just focus on running.” Quilani sighed. We’re dead.
