Uila Racing: A G3 Short Story

A look into my G3 version of the Vo-Matoran Lightning Tribe, and new star Vorik.

“Can you go any slower?” Volta teased her trailing opponent. The Uila behind her screeched. Oh, Volta, always so cocky. That was one of the reasons Vorik liked her so much.
Vorik, a Vo-Matoran on Mata Nui, was this trailing opponent. His Uila bird, Bomba, cawed, and leaned to side narrowly avoiding a lightning bolt. Not that it would hurt Vorik or Bomba at all.
Uila racing in Vo-Koro was the most popular pasttime for the native Matoran, much like Gukko racing in Le-Koro. To the regular Matoran eye, they would only see quick flashes of the Uila birds flying above, due to the fact that the bird could move as fast as lightning.
Vorik loved this feeling of speeding through the perpetual thunder storms above the small area of Vo-Koro. It made you feel secluded and a part of everything at the same time. It gave him freedom, which, admittedly, he had a lot of on the ground. Just, more.
Vorik was a Matoran without the ability to freely control the elements. Lightning could not flow from his hand and thunder could not muster at his thoughts. And that was an ability that was almost nesscecarry for a game like Uila-racing; to avoid the bolts as quickly as possible was an almost supernatural ability. And it was completely lawful in games to stir up thunder-clouds to slow your opponents.
But Vorik was completely fine without his powers. He saw them as a crutch, almost; his opposition was never entirely focused on winning; just focused on not losing and making sure it was just the opposite for whoever was behind them. Vorik took this as an advantage.
Angling Bomba to the left, he left him have a burst of speed, corckscrewing around every obstacle. As Vorik expected, Volta was busy ahead, focusing on the clouds behind her, not seeing Vorik come up beside her.
“Hello there, love,” Vorik said, lounging against the back of his saddle. Volta turned, surprised, then rolled her eyes.
“You could at least pretty that I’m beating you, I’m-the-best-racer-ever-and-everybody-has-to-know-it,” She said, rolling her eyes.
“Hey, I got a riddle for you,” he said, leaning forward, his chipped dark purple armor creaking a bit.
“And what’s that?” Another eye roll.
“What’s faster than lightning?”
“Nothing,” Volta answered, matter of factly.
“Wrong,” He shouted, grinning. “It’s me!”
He shot forward with a sonic boom, a boom which knocked Volta off of her saddle and into a free-fall. She was strangely calm during the fall. Vorik started laughing, barrel-rolled and caught her just before she hit the ground.
“I hate you,” She said, deadpan.
“I know you mean love!” Vorik cackled. He pulled up to the Rahi caretaker of Vo-Koro, Spars, and landed softly, Bomba cooing. Volta hopped off, and found her Uila, already in the stable.
“Thanks for racing today, Vorik,” Volta said after Spars had led Bomba off to his stable. “It was nice.”
“No problem, love,” Vorik answered.
“You wanna race again tomorrow?” She asked.
“Sure. I might let you win.”
Volta laughed as she started to walk away. “Well, then, it’s a date.”
Vorik caught himself staring after her for a good several moments afterword. He was snapped out of it by Spars walking back.
“Nice girl you got there, huh?” He chuckled.
Vorik glared. “Ah, shut up.”


This is the kind of stuff I like to see in a Bionicle story- the matoran culture.
I love this little window into the world!