#koradak

I would be remiss not to mention Thok’s attempt to kidnap Turaga Dume, in the years prior to the war in Metru Nui. That mission was a comedy of errors, and I can hardly believe Thok managed to return to Odina in one piece. But that will be a story for another day, because it is only the second most disastrous mission. That honor goes to Subterranean’s negotiations with the frostelus.

I took note of the frostelus when Ancient watched them besiege the Makoki Fortress. They were vicious and unpredictable warriors, who seemed to shrug off any physical attack. Any creature that can so effortlessly destroy Toa is a creature I want on my side.

During the war with the Brotherhood, I was in need of all the allies I could get. Koradak begged me to let him negotiate, but I doubted the frostelus would respect his genteel, mild-mannered affect. After all, they were Rahi, and ugly ones at that – possibly mutated by hordika venom. I decided to send Subterranean in his stead, in the hopes that the frostelus would see some common ground between them.

Some months before the events of Dark Mirror...

Another day.

After the several week-long diplomatic mission to Zakaz and Xia - former led by a brute of a Ga-Toa who rules by breaking necks and latter by a corrupt seductress who knows she’ll get away with whatever she does on account of being “close friends” with the Empress - Koradak felt dead inside. Part of him wondered how the Empire managed to function with the glaring differences between the Overseers and rampant corruption of the higher ups.

Another protest.

As he arrived back home late in the evening, flanked by his Nuurakh bodyguards, the town center - yes, they finally had one - was filled by another protest led by the local secessionists. The leader, a stout reactionary, was practically shouting about the injustices that the Empire brought to Stelts. His Stelts, not the bruisers they belittled, the giants they forced to fight for their entertainment, or the Matoran who lived in inns because legally speaking they weren’t allowed to buy property.

The local Toa arrived pretty quickly. “No gatherings larger than six that haven’t been approved by the Overseer,” but everyone knew what that meant: no criticism of the Empire.

Someone threw a brick. Hit the Vo-Toa enforcer straight in the eye.

Vahki are dispatched, protesters fall to the ground in pain and shock from the bolts of lightning. The few who raise their arms and surrender are forced down. The leader is beaten into a pulp by two bruisers, who only stop when told to. Toa drag him away and the bruisers pick up the wounded haphazardly. No need to be merciful or gentle when these people wish you were under their heels.

The Rahkshi turned to face the sound of footsteps behind it. A tall but broad Steltian in purple and gold armor, armed with a Rhotuka Launcher and a long, thin sword approached it.

“Sorry about that,” Koradak said. “You’ve been causing quite a stir around here, I heard. The nearby village took offense to you after you sent half of their population in stasis.”

He yanked the Staff of Stasis out of it’s hands and put it under his armpit, and then took hold of it’s carapace before tearing it open and pulling out a bluish-gray slug which writhed in his grasp before he crushed it.

“Sorry,” he said as he dropped the dead Kraata and cleaned his hand with a rag as the Rahkshi armor slowly fell over with a thud. “But you were too dangerous to be left alive.” He hated killing anything, even Rahkshi. At the very least, he took solace in knowing that Kraata were too feral to be reasoned with, even if they did sometimes express some form of sapience. Which in turn slightly disgusted him. He took the Staff of Stasis in his hand and left the armor to rust, making his way back to the nearby village.

... ... ...

A blast struck the Agori’s chest, freeing her from the Stasis Field. Slightly malnourished but alive, her son ran over and hugged her as she was helped back on her feet by her fellow villagers.

“Thank you, Koradak,” the elderly female Glatorian said to him. "If you hadn’t been here, these people would have starved to death.”

Koradak lowered the Staff, returning a smile. “Don’t mention,” he said. “I’m always happy to help.”

“Are you still planning to leave?” The Glatorian asked. “We really could use someone like you...” Koradak raised his hand to decline the offer.

“There are ruthless men out there, who want me dead,” he answered. “They’ll stop at nothing to find me, and I can’t risk putting anyone else in danger.” The elder frowned, but nodded in understanding. Her frown quickly turned back into a smile.

“But you are going to stay for the feast tonight, right?”

... ... ...

Glatorian inspected the Staff of Stasis, unsure what to think about using a Rahkshi weapon as a tool to apprehend outlaws. She considered just burying it somewhere deep or smashing it in pieces, but on the other hand it’s power would come in handy.

“I honestly don’t know,” she said, turning to Koradak. “This... thing did freeze my entire village...”

“These staffs only work at their full power when used by Rahkshi,” Koradak reassured her. “It can’t permanently freeze someone, even if you wanted to. Plus, it undoes the effects of Stasis Field regardless of how proficient the user was.” The elder remained uncertain.

“But it was used by a Rahkshi,” she said outloud. “It feels... barbaric, given how those monsters helped Makuta.” Koradak smiled reassuringly.

“It doesn’t matter who made the weapon, or for what purpose,” he said, “as long as it is used for good.”

The Glatorian thought about it. He was right, in a sense. The weapon couldn’t freeze anything or anyone permanently, as the effects lasted for mere minutes - just long enough to disarm someone. The fact that it was taken from a Rahkshi wasn’t really morally wrong, either, since weapons she and her people have used for centuries were either made of bone of animals or worse, other Glatorian or salvaged from the dead. And given it’s power, it’d be a waste to throw it away.

“But, I won’t force you,” Koradak answered as he picked up his knapsack. “Do as you please with it; hang it on your wall, bury it under a rock, sell it to a trader. It’s up to you.” Swinging the sack over his shoulder, he turned around and began to walk away.

“Hey,” the elder said after him, holding out the staff. “You sure you don’t need this?” Koradak turned to face her with a warm smile.

“No thanks,” he declined the offer. “I prefer my own weapons.”

Steltians are very, very well known for their pettiness and selfishness. While moments of genuine kindness and respect on their part are not unheard of, almost every Stelt is envious of their neighbor or care only for themselves. Usually both. Koradak can count himself as the happy few who oppose this stereotype.

Koradak, a mere politician (according to him; the more correct term to use would have been an activist) back then, was fighting hard to provide a shred of something to call justice in that cesspool that pretended to be a functional society. He was an egalitarian who fully believed that he could simply abolish slavery, class hierarchy and gladiatorial combat if he worked hard enough. Unsurprisingly, the island’s corrupt officials caught on his attempts and threw him in the arena to fight for the rest of his life.

Surprisingly, on the other hand, was that he was skilled in combat. Out of 47 fights he fought in the arena he won 46. Last one was against Gladiator, which ended in a draw when he frenzied after a long battle and went on a rampage, killing and wounding countless of guards, civilians and bruisers before being brought down. Koradak, the only fighter in the ring, was held responsible for driving him mad and promptly imprisoned. My Dark Hunter agents in the area who had seen the fight and the following rampage broke both Gladiator and Koradak out of their cells and brought them to Odina. Gladiator joined immediately, obviously, but Koradak required some convincing. Mainly by threatening to send him back to Stelt where he would most likely get killed.

I do wonder if he regrets his choice, now that I think about it.

POWERS: While Koradak doesn’t have any natural powers or mutations and has declined all weapons, Kanohi and modifications offered to him, he’s a master with a rapier. During his introduction fight, he easily disarmed three novice Dark Hunters without injuring them, aside from some small cuts and a lost finger. He’s also very accurate with his Peace Rhotuka Launcher, successfully hitting and calming down Savage during one of his episodes from across the training yard. While his rapier can’t pierce through most armors, he’s precise enough to maneuver it past them and stab his enemies in their most vulnerable spots, killing them or worse, paralyzing them - but only if he absolutely has to. Unless coerced, forced or angered, he refuses to kill, torture or even hurt sentient beings. While it makes him a poor operative in our preferred line of work, luckily for him - and me - he’s an excellent diplomat. Most notable example is when he managed to convince an entire tribe of Zyglak to move to another island rather than face my Dark Hunters, saving me time, resources and recruits.

Sadly, Koradak only joined my organization due to his biggest flaw: his unnatural fear of death. He only fought if it was about the life of himself, a fellow Dark Hunter who he considered somewhat decent or some passerby who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, or when he flew into tranquil fury whenever he saw someone he believed was being discriminated against. Regardless of whether or not the discriminator was a nobody or a fellow agent.

Steltians are known for being pathetic cowards and traitors, who only care of themselves. During his service, Koradak has proven at least one of these stereotypes false.

Back when he was a mere politician on Stelt, Koradak worked tirelessly to “improve” the situation on his homeland by practicing equality, banishing slavery and so on. Unsurprisingly, he made little success and was eventually forced into gladiator-business by the island’s leaders. Surprisingly, on the other hand, he had the abilities of a warrior. Out of forty seven fights in the arena, he won forty six. Forty seventh ended in a draw against Gladiator, unrecruited at the time, who went on a frenzy after several hours of combat and violently murdered multiple bystanders before being stopped by about a dozen bruisers.

I had both of them extracted and brought to Odina. Gladiator joined on spot, but Koradak required some “persuasion” for him to join. Mainly by telling him that refusal means either death or being shipped back to Stelt, where he would promptly be executed or worse. He was more than happy to join as he realized that, but I have no doubt that he now regrets that decision. As a Dark Hunter, he was outright pathetic. He refused to murder, and had to be coerced into accepting missions. If it wasn’t for his silver tongue, I would have had him killed centuries ago.

POWERS:  Like all Steltians of his stature, his main attribute was his skill in combat. His Rhotuka Launcher could create Magnetism, possibly from his strong grasp of “Unity,” and his rapier can pierce toughest materials, save for Protosteel. He also was an excellent diplomat. Once, by some miracle, he managed to convince an entire tribe of Zyglak to move to another island. Unfortunately for him, he has never used these abilities for our benefit and has an extreme fear of death.

“Koradak, what is going on over here?”

Bedrock walked into the strangest thing he had seen so far during his service to The Dark Hunters. The Matoran “Labourers” - as Shadowed One liked to refer them as - were huddled around the rookie that he was ordered to look after instead of working.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” Koradak answered, smile on his face. “They just asked for a break.” The Matoran scattered as Bedrock approached him, save for one Bo-Matoran who ran behind the Steltian.

“So what?” Bedrock barked back. “They’re slaves, not people.” Koradak stood up and glared down the Toa of Earth.

“And who are you to tell them that?” He asked. “You’re in charge of what I do, but last I checked, you told me it was up to me how I treat them. Besides...” He motioned around him. “They’ve already done most of their work. The whole training yard is cleaned and repaired from that incident between Charger and Savage. Don’t you think a rest is in order?”

Bedrock’s face was calm and unreadable, but inside he was fuming. This senile idiot who has lived Mata Nui knows how long a pathetic live on that dirtheap his race calls a home is telling him - his de-facto leader - that slaves - literally the only source of entertainment on the said dirtheap - need to be treated better.

As if that’ll pay off.