The sun. Giver of life and bringer of death. One of the teachings of the Vorox. Well, Pre-Shattering that is. The primitive savages have no place for petty philosophy now. It had been countless years since the Vorox were proud warriors. Countless years since he lost his people. As he wandered the desert he couldn't help but think of the events of the past years. The reforming of Spherus Magna. The downfall of the glatorian system. The transformation of Bara Magna, his home, into a desolate wasteland populated only by the Sand Tribe, Skrall, Bone Hunters, and the occasional travelers. The agori had long since moved to newer locales created by Mata Nui. With no where else to go, he simply wandered, doing the occasional odd job for a couple of thornax to sustain on his neverending journey.
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a dull roar in the distance. As he adjusted his eyes, he saw a vehicle racing along the dunes. The kind that the agori drove. But its pilot was different. Matoran they called them. Apparently Mata Nui's people. He had heard stories and saw pictures, but never met one face to face. As the vehicle came to a stop, he saw a figure of short stature and mechanical build. "What's your name?" asked the suspicious matoran. "Syvlec" he answered. Syvlec never understood the concept of names. Why remember the deeds of the individual instead of the people? Alas, names were so widespread he eventually had to think of one. "Any yours? he asked. "Zaskor" the matoran gruffly replied. "What's your business being here? There are plenty of other places to be." "Looking for work and shelter." I don't think I will like these "matoran" if all they do is ask questions. "In that case, climb aboard. I am sure you will find plenty in Po-Magnus."
End chapter 1