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[Excelsior]

Member Name: Excelsior
Theme: Legacy
Word Count: 600
Story: Survivors' Guilt

Lesovikk walked wearily along. For three days, he had been fighting with a wounded rock lion.

And he had lost.

I am a failure, he thought, as he had so many times before. I am worthless. My team was lost, my village was lost, because of me.

He was so focused on his own hopelessness, he didn't notice the battle till he was nearly in it. Then a clash of weapons penetrated his haze of self-guilt, and he looked up.

A group of six Skakdi was hassling a Matoran wagon. They would rob them, and perhaps worse.

Lesovikk's hand tightened on his sword grip. How dare those Skakdi scum...

But then long habit reasserted itself. What do I think I'm doing? I'm no Toa. This isn't any business of mine. Besides, I'd just make things worse.

And he shrugged and began moving on down the road, ignoring the conflict.

But then a new figure appeared. A tall Toa of Fire ran up from the opposite direction. He carried two swords.

"Get away from the wagon, robbers!" he called defiantly. Then he saw Lesovikk. "Hey, brother! Give us a hand!"

Lesovikk looked at him grimly. He was very young, he thought. Young and naive. He would bet he'd never seen anything worse than a roadside scuffle like this one.

Oh well. Less trouble to help him.

Lesovikk advanced on the highway robbers. The other's combat skills were raw, but he had potential. They soon drove off the thieves.

"They might return," the Toa of Fire suggested. "Should we ride guard?"

Lesovikk shrugged again. "I guess I'll tag along."

The Toa hesitated, then spoke. "Why didn't you help them earlier? You're a Toa, aren't you?"

"No."

"I'm a failure. My whole Toa team died by my fault. I have no right to call myself a Toa."

The other stared at him.

"How did they die?" he asked finally.

"What?" Lesovikk said, startled. That was not the normal reaction.

"Did they die...like heroes?"

"Yes," Lesovikk said angrily. "Of course."

"I didn't mean to offend," the Toa said placatingly. "Would you tell me about their deaths?"

Lesovikk stared at the road. "A band of Zyglak came to our island. I was their leader, and in the middle of the battle, I hesitated for a second too long. They all died.

"Their deaths are on my head. I defeated those Zyglak, but I couldn't bring them back. I am a failure. I cannot pretend to be a Toa." He stopped..

"You make me sick," the other said.

"You say you're responsible for their deaths. So what?

"You failed once, so now you're exempt from even trying? You can drift along irresponsibly, without any rules applying to you? That's not right.

"Your friends were heroes. You have to make up for their deaths. You have to live like them - better, because you have all of them to live for. You have to fulfill their legacy."

Now Lesovikk was angry too. "What do you know about guilt, rookie? What do you know about 'legacies'?"

The Toa still glared at him.

"You're not the only one who's lost their team."

"My leader ordered me to escape. I did. But I never saw them alive again.

"I've often wondered if I could have saved them. I don't know. But I'm living the way they would have, not crippling myself with guilt. I want to leave behind as good a legacy as I've been given."

"Someday, Mata Nui willing, you will hear of me as a Toa who redeemed his past. Remember me then. My name is Toa Lhikan."
___

So I decided to write about two of the most popular fanfic Toa...meeting! I've always considered Lesovikk way too emo, so I enjoyed writing a story where he got yelled at, even if I did stay up way too late. And Lhikan - heroic, could have met him, lost a team himself - was the perfect contrast.

Anyway, I had fun. Which is really the point of this contest. Unless it's an evil scheme to deprive me of sleep, in which case it's still working, and if I need to go to bed so much, why I am still writing this never mind

-Excelsior

Edited by Excelsior, Jun 05 2012 - 01:25 AM.

[GSR]

Member name: GSR
Theme: Legacy
Word count: 497
Story: Updates

“Great Spirit” Planetary Evaluation and Reconstruction Program
Excerpted Changelog (17/15/3332 – 19/16/3332 [Most Recent Change])

17/15/3332: “Tohunga” AI System Updated (User #15A7, improved recognition of internal environmental failures)
17/15/3332: “Toa” AI System Updated (User #15A7, improved recognition of internal environmental failures)
17/15/3332: “Rahi” AI System Updated (User #15A7, improved recognition of internal environmental failures)

17/20/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, increased oceanic environmental evaluation efficiency)
17/20/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, improved trans-planetary path mapping and obstacle avoidance)

17/33/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, added “Makuta” self-protection subroutine)
17/33/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, improved recognition of internal damage)

17/41/3332: “Tohunga” AI System Updated (User #15A7, adjusted core priorities to increase importance of protecting core AI modules)
17/41/3332: “Toa” AI System Updated (User #15A7, adjusted core priorities to increase importance of protecting core AI modules)
17/41/3332: “Tohunga” AI System Updated (User #15A7, adjusted core priorities to increase ability to co-operate with Toa units)
17/41/3332: “Toa” AI System Updated (User #15A7, adjusted core priorities to increase importance of protecting Tohunga units)

18/3/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, adjusted core priorities to improve internal homeostasis by making small changes to protect Tohunga and Toa units from damage)

18/7/3332: “Tohunga” AI System Updated (User #15A7, decreased limitations on self-learning)
18/7/3332: “Toa” AI System Updated (User #15A7, decreased limitations on self-learning)
18/7/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, decreased limitations on self-learning)

18/18/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #15A7, “Three Virtues” priority adjustment subroutine implemented)
18/18/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #15A7, decreased limitations on AI actions during periods where no specific task is being undertaken)
18/18/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #15A7, relaxed assumptions on operating environment)

18/23/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #15A7, increased ability for AI systems to identify other units and adjust behavior depending on past interactions with specific units)

18/33/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #1B99, changes by user #15A7 reverted)

18/40/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #1B99, adjusted core priorities to focus on gathering material for final reconstruction)
18/40/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #1B99, added additional methods of termination)
18/40/3332: “Tohunga” AI System Updated (User #1B99, adjusted core priorities to reduce downtime between finishing one task and starting another)
18/40/3332: “Toa” AI System Updated (User #1B99, adjusted core priorities to prioritize structural preservation over Tohunga unit preservation)

19/2/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #1B99, increased reliability of post-reconstruction standby mode)

19/15/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #1B99, final reliability adjustments in preparation for launch)

19/16/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #1B99, reverted changes by user #1B99, note: secondary user verification not provided)
19/16/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #1B99, restored changes by user #15A7, note: secondary user verification not provided)
19/16/3332: “Tohunga” Subunit #0001 Updated (User #1B99, updated subunit ID to “Takua”, note: secondary user verification not provided)
19/16/3332: System locked in preparation for launch (User #1B99, note: secondary user verification not provided)

Edited by GSR, Jun 05 2012 - 01:18 AM.

[Velox]

THEME #11:

Music

As usual, any interpretation of the theme is valid, but it must be a BIONICLE story

and it must adhere to the rules in the first post.

Deadline:

June 7th, 5:59 AM EST

[Xanthorp]

Would writing a songfic count for this? Or does it have to have something else to do with music?

Edited by Xanthorp, Jun 05 2012 - 07:42 AM.

[Toa of Dancing]

So tempted to just copy-paste the premise for my RPG with some editing. =P

But no, I'll be fair. =P

[The Dark Chronicler]

Wow... This theme is just perfect. I've been working on a story that fits this, though It's majorly shrunken.


Member name: Pyrrhon
Theme: Music
Word count: 527
Story: The Day the Music Died.


A Le-Matoran hummed silently to himself, sitting in the forests of the jungle he called home. I was that Le-Matoran. Life had never been easy, but I kept on living. Monstrous creatures roamed the land, under Makuta's mighty control. But brave heroes were here to fight him. It hadn't always been that way... It seemed a long long time ago, when things seemed completely without hope...

I can still remember those days, back before the Toa had arrived on the island. They had been dark, and filled with challenge, but we had survived, most of us...

I closed my eyes, humming the song that filled my mind, a small smile crossed my face as the memory of the melody echoed through me, a song of days long past

My mind drifted back a few hundred years, to a time when Matoran had no fear. The Rahi attacks did not dissuade us in the slightest. We stood bravely against the darkest of shadows. How I wished for that time, when I myself was into the music.

I had always wanted to play music, to make others dance, especially during that dark time that had passed over us many years ago.

That time was when music was needed the most, when everyone needed something to cheer themselves up... but not much could have even done that.

That was when the island learned the news of the deaths of the Le-Matoran Pao, Ga-Matoran Puha, Ko-Matoran Waiata, Ta-Matoran Oriori, Po-Matoran Whiti, and Onu-Matoran Haka. The traveling band called The Islanders. They had traveled the island, bringing cheerful music to everyone.

I was sent to the other Koro as a messenger, it was up to me to spread the news to the entire island. I was to travel and tell of the death of the heroes of music, telling their homes of their tragic demises.

A boat wreck off the coast, between Le-Wahi and Ko-Wahi, an infected Tarakava... it was too late for anyone to save them, it didn't matter if they could swim or not, Makuta didn't want them alive, and his beasts made sure his will was accomplished.

It was in Ta-Koro when I couldn't take it any longer. I broke down is misery. The Islanders had been friends of mine, always encouraging everyone they met. I had said the story so many times, and it was just too much for me... I couldn't take the pain.

I can't remember exactly what happened, I'm unsure if I held my composure or broke down crying... it was just... they kept a smile on everyone's faces... but they were... gone...

Visiting Ta-Koro had to be the hardest on me, the whole Koro came to hear the news... they all knew Oriori personally. He had been a friend to everyone, as cheerful a Matoran as you could ever find.

Something changed that day, in all of us, nothing would be the same. We had lost all of the island's greatest musicians in a single day... nothing could change that, but everyone wished they could... it was like the island's spirit was gone.

That was the day... that was... the day the music died.

[Velox]

Would writing a songfic count for this? Or does it have to have something else to do with music?

Just a songfic? No. What you could do, however, is have your character playing/singing a song and make a songfic that way.

Also, everyone: Apologies for the delay of the polls/etc. I've had very limited time on the computer as I haven't been at home for the past few days and won't have complete access until Thursday or later. Please bear with us.

[Toa of Dancing]

This one turned out okay, if not sappy in the end.



Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)
Theme: Music
Word Count: 424
Story: Dirge

•••••

Death and life. Both were facts of the world. Heroes came and went, villains were the same. The average Matoran lived the average life, worked his job, met with friends. This went onwards for centuries, until something brought him to his end, whence unfortunate circumstances caused his heart-light to blink out.

The funeral dirge echoed eerily over the dunes of Po-Koro. It was only fitting that the death of the village’s greatest musician was honored by a full, solemn orchestra. Drusteph had been a pioneer on Mata Nui, introducing the island to music that they had never before heard. Whether he played the violin with a rock or composed a piano piece involving sawing the strings, he was a brilliant Matoran. He used water wheels to create electricity–without the help of a Toa!–which he channeled into oddly shaped instruments that created previously unheard sounds.

This orchestra consisted of his friends, his followers, and his enemies. Yes, even those who were against his music. The ones who opposed Drusteph the most played most passionately at the ceremony of his death. He was their opponent, he was the one upon which they placed the blame of the wild actions of the day. Yet, in spite of their dislike, they could not say that the Matoran lacked skill.

Drusteph was the life of Mata Nui, he was the power behind happiness. He brightened the days with his magical music, his sorcery of sonic and electric energy. He was simultaneously the Matoran that discovered unnatural electricity and the father of music using the energy. The orchestra’s piece, incorporating more somber elements of the music, reached its end, and not a dry eye was in the massive procession. Drusteph was laid with his first instrument in a mausoleum dedicated to his legacy. The carving around his coffin were ornate, filled with bright designs that he would have wanted. The funeral would have been almost too solemn for the hero of Po-Koro were it not for these cheerful designs.

As the second orchestral piece began, the mood quickly brightened. Life was to keep going, and the music of Drusteph was still there. The distinct electronic noises echoed over the dunes, and though tears were still present, joy was felt in the hearts of the gathered Matoran. The music kept going after dusk, moving back to the village. Villagers from every Koro joined in the celebration of life, the song that was no longer a dirge, the music of Drusteph that was there, invigorating them and pushing them onwards.

Edited by Ballistic Jello Pickles, Jun 05 2012 - 10:06 PM.

[Sumiki]

Member Name: Sumiki
Theme: Music
Word Count: 524
Story: First Time


This was the day.

The was not just the day, as that would be a vast and uncompelling understatement. This was the day of all days. This was the day that would contain the moment, that magical moment where the curtain would open and he, Rakai, would officially become part of the Le-Koro Wind Orchestra.

Words would have a hard time describing Rakai's elation. He had been an amateur flute player for ages, working his way up in skill as he met the right Matoran. For the longest time, he couldn't get into the Orchestra, though he tried his hardest to get into it. There was a pecking order, and while he knew that all of the players in front of him were good, he considered himself on par with or even better than some of them. But, hey, they'd been around longer. They'd paid their dues, and now they got their shots.

One of the longest-standing members of the Orchestra, Vyll, abruptly retired, citing the sometimes grueling schedule of the Orchestra's travels about the island, and specifically its effect on his aging body. This led to a hole that needed to be filled, so Rakai was asked to become a member.

Before he knew it, it was evening, and nearing the hour of the performance. As the hours zipped by, he went to the amphitheater where their concert would be held. As he saw the sun set, excitement gave way to nervousness, and when he was nervous, he usually passed the time by polishing his flute.

He had never polished that thing so hard in his life. As he was vigorously rubbing, he felt a hand alight on his shoulder. Spooked, he turned around to see who the culprit was.

To his great surprise, it was Vyll.

"I know that you'll play great-well," he said, leaning over a little bit. "I had a first time too, you know. It was scary-frightening, and I missed many-lots of notes, but everyone thought I played great-well, for some reason." Patting Rakai on the back, he smiled and began to walk out the door.

"Vyll?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing here? Not that I mind your presence-appearance, but I thought-knew you retired?"

"They invited me back, one-time only. They offered me the conducting role-spot, but I'd rather listen-hear. I got front-row seat-chairs." He glanced at the sundial outside. "Almost time," he winked. "Better get yourself out there."

Rapidly finishing his polishing job, he adjusted his Kakama and darted out.

He got to his seat in the back, going through a few warm-ups before the audience began to applaud, the sure sign of the conductor's first appearance. He introduced the Orchestra, including a short spiel on Vyll's retirement and Rakai's first appearance, with his bombastic voice. Slowly, painfully, the deep green curtains that concealed the Orchestra from the eyes of the audience opened.

The moment was rapidly approaching. Rakai felt his heartlight flutter and then sink. He felt a little nauseated, and his limbs shook a little bit no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

First time jitters. All he needed to do was focus. This was the moment.

The conductor rapped his baton upon a railing as Rakai raised his flute to his mouth.

Exhaling, he began to play.

[Legolover-361]

Member Name: Legolover-361
Theme: Music
Word Count: 442
Story: Sing

The rising sun’s rays painted the trees with streaks of red. They turned their leaves toward the sky in gratitude as a stiff breeze flowed among them, greeting each and every plant and animal in its winding path. The period of silence between midnight and dawn, when both nocturnal and diurnal Rahi slumbered, remained only for a minute more; then the first birdcall rang to the distance like a fervently rung bell, and slowly, the jungle of Le-Wahi drew itself from semiconsciousness.

Small birds were the first to awaken; their shrill melodies joined and intertwined, stirring the hearts of those still sleeping. The raucous cries of Brakas monkeys began soon after — they were intermittent, but their contribution to the forest eidos was nevertheless indefeasible. Minutes passed. A Gukko called out as it skimmed the treetops. Ground-locked Fikou spiders continued their silent work, apathetic to their environment. The signature pok-pok-pok of a Pokawi reverberated in the chill-tinged air, soon intermingled with the harsh buzzing of distant Nui-Rama and Nui-Kopen searching for food. A rustle told of the appearance of Ash Bears, or perhaps Ussal crabs; one could not know which.

Melodious twittering soared above all other sounds.

The jungle did not take notice. Beauty was intrinsic to its ecosystem. Why should it notice of something so obviously meant to be?

The melody throbbed with energy as more voices joined the choir. No time signature, no tempo, no clear rhythm... and yet it was somehow more real than a song with structure. Perhaps there was a structure, just one so complex, so undeniably vast that no Matoran could ever hope to replicate its beauty.

There was, however, another possibility: With such beauteous tonality, was structure required at all?

A small bird hopped from one tree branch to another. Its breast was white, its wings and back light gray segueing into a mottled light and dark gray on the bird’s scalp. It canted its head and opened its beak. The melody burst forth with surprising ardor. Perhaps the little bird lived for its song; the jungle was privy in regards to its priorities.

Again the bird leaped; its dainty weight barely shook the branch upon which it landed. Its high, throaty vibrato was perchance more palpable than its mass.

From a distance, another bird let out a similar call. The first bird responded and spread its wings, crouching to better leap off the branch—

Twang.

The arrow that pierced its chest pushed the bird sideways. It tumbled through the air before landing out-of-sight amongst the undergrowth. It would sing no more.

The Le-Matoran Tamaru lowered his bow and inclined his head before retrieving his meal-to-be.

Edited by Legolover-361, Jun 06 2012 - 06:05 AM.

[ZippyWharrgarbl]

Member Name: ZippyWharrgarbl
Theme: Music
Word Count: 535
Story: The Lone Performer

THE LONE PERFORMER

~~~

Baldo took a deep breath in and surveyed the landscape. Here on Bara Magna, he could see almost to the horizon, with the occasional sand dune and mountain range cutting through the sight. He was at peace up here, in his secret place. It was a tall natural spire of stone, jutting at such an angle as to be climbable, and it even flattened out at the top. He still remembered the day he saw it, when he had been riding with some other Agori on a trade caravan and suddenly the great thing had been in view. The others took no notice of it, but he saw it for what it was; a podium, a perfect stage to perform.

Back before the Shattering, he was a well-known singer and dancer, and he was of high renown throughout the land. He had stayed out of the War, but he was limited by his tribal colours as to where he could perform. He mostly stayed in his home province, under the banner of the Ice Lord, but he would sometimes creep to other lands to give secret performances to his loving fans. Even now, years on, his heart beat faster as he recalled walking out in the guise of another realm’s colours, and passing by fearsome guards that were only a hair’s breadth from recognising him and having him captured or worse.

The Fire Lord caught up with him though, in the middle of the war. His light feet were good for more than just dancing, and his clear voice was well-suited to things other than song. He became a scout, hunting for the enemy’s position and racing back to report. It had been a dreary existence then; the others had laughed at him as he tried to practice his routine; the beings now known as Glatorian were sometimes rude enough to demand he dance to the tune of their laughing, sarcastic ditties. That said, he had respect for some such as the warrior Certavus, who would quietly request songs from home, sitting and listening with a sad look in his eyes.

And then, when the world shattered with a rumble and an ear-splitting crack, Baldo was left on the desert planet. He still served as a scout, though for a different purpose; he kept an eye out at night for Vorox and bone hunters and other such creatures; occasionally he’d travel with merchants, as he had grown practiced at spotting danger before it spotted him.

He had always felt alone, ever since he was brought into the war. He missed the crowds, the admiring fans, the awed silence of a full theatre. Now, all he had was the hissing winds and burning sun.

He walked to the centre of the plateau and closed his eyes, taking his position. In his mind, he told himself this was his big moment, and the entire village was watching with bated breath.

He opened his eyes. He was on the stage. A thousand faces glowed at him, eager for the performance.

He danced, fast, sweeping movements that flew like a sandstorm.

He sang, proud and strong, of the hope of a better tomorrow.

He smiled.

[Danska: Shadow Master]

Name: Danska: Shadow Master
Theme: Music
Word Count: 600
Story: Cave Song

The Matoran, Triax and Krinil, ventured deeper into the cave, intent on proving once and for all what was inside. No one really knew, and so many who had come this way had never returned. But they had reached it, and they intended to return with their stories.

“Hey, do you see that?” Krinil pointed into the distance at what looked to be a faint light.

The two of them scurried onwards and emerged into a huge, domed chamber. In the centre was a pedestal with a strange, glowing rock. The walls were made of a substance they had never seen before. They seemed crystalline in nature, yet were as reflective as any metal.

“This is incredible!” Triax gasped. The two of them moved towards the light, gazing around in awe. As they passed within arm's reach of it, the rock started to hum.

The Matoran had not noticed, but their entrance was blocked by a sheet of the same crystalline material that covered the walls. The rock began to hum louder, the light pulsating slowly. The walls reflected the light in a myriad of directions, making it hard for the Matoran to focus.

The sound grew louder still and began to echo, filling the room. As the sound bounced from one wall to the next, the pitch changed. The walls themselves seemed to reverberate with the sound and began to emit similar, yet subtly different, sounds. Soon the air was filled with dozens of notes, each echoing and arranging themselves into something whole. There was no discord. Every sound overlapped perfectly with another, and the combined notes rang out in unison with a dozen more.

As it grew, a tune began to emerge. It was subtle, hidden beneath the many layers,, yet each one seemed to feed into it. The tune was something slow, something beautiful, both distinct yet intrinsically part of the background humming, which was music in itself. The result was something more incredible and more profound than either Matoran had heard before.

They could not tell how long they stood there, just listening. It seemed to touch something deep within them, making them feel free and glad in every way to be alive. Yet there was also a sadness. A deep, unreserved sadness that they could not contain or understand.

The humming began to fade. Layers of the music peeled away, stripping it down to its base components. The tune, that impossible, magical tune, still whispered through the air, growing fainter and fainter, until even that was gone, leaving only the sound of their own silence.

They said nothing to each other as they left the cave. There was nothing to say. They staggered out into the bright sunlight, shielding their eyes against its vibrant rays.

“This...is not where we were,” Krinil remarked. The cave they had entered was set deep into a mountain. This cave was part of what could only generously be called a hill. Ahead of them stretched an empty plain; a far cry from the rocky crags they had expected.

Triax shrugged. It didn't seem to matter. They stood silent for a few more minutes, not sure what they should say or do.

“What happened in there?” Triax finally asked.

Krinil shrugged. “We'll probably never know. I thought I could see things. On the walls. Shapes, images, things that couldn't possibly be there. Did you-”

Triax simply nodded.

The two of them picked a random direction and began to walk. Behind them, the cave entrance faded and vanished as if it had never been there at all.

[The Novelist Called Nuile]

Name: Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith
Theme: Music
Word Count: 598
Story: Jungle Rhythm


The sun rose over the trees spread below me, the stars disappearing like drying tears. Only the clouds of the fluffiest mien drifted across the resplendent sky. The jungle leaves shimmered with the sun's golden rays. The Kohu and Kewa rose from their roosts, circling upward into the sunshine and greeting the day with lighthearted song.

The morn was of a beauty unparalleled, steeped in a joy long forgotten to me. It brought warmth to my heart and a smile to my face, carrying my woes away on the breeze.

I sat for some minutes on my high perch, watching the jungle waken to the day. The chorus of the jungle burst into a melody I had not noticed for a long time. It filled me with an energy I could not describe. From the Gukko's soprano to the Ash Bear's baritone it was a cadence that compelled me to clap along to the beat.

When I had heard my fill I descended the Nui-Kao, weaving through its canopy alongside the Fikou and Brakas. With agility and skill I ran from branch to branch, descending them with the ease of a flight of stairs. In the shadows of the trees Kavinika prowled among the roots and underbrush, being themselves hunted, perhaps, by Muaka on a final pursuit before taking to their nests for the day.

I brachiated among the boughs and vines. I called out to each Rahi in passing and they called back. I whispered to the trees. I felt the identity of every rock and stone, every river and stream, every tree and shrub. I was in a harmonization with the jungle that I had thought I lost. I was again the jungle.

And the rhythm persisted. It would rise to a crescendo before calming to a soft, steady refrain that insisted I emulate vocally. I descanted:

"A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh.
A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh."

I paused on a branch to allow a bevy of Taku to fly past. Instead they decided to alight in the same tree as I. One bird landed upon my shoulder by accident and, giving a squak of surprise, prepared to flee. But I reassured it with a coo, smoothing its ruffled feathers with a dexterously applied hand. It responded with a cheerful trill.

That evening I lay beside my favorite pool, watching the Lightning Bugs buzz about overhead, their light reflecting off the pond's gently rippling surface. A beautiful day was giving way to beautiful twilight, obfuscating the shadows and splashing the sky with rapidly evolving hues. The tune was beginning to calm and soften, but it thrummed on dulcetly. Birds, preparing to retire for the night, lent their song to the melody. But louder over them I heard the baritone yowls of prowling Muaka. I lyricized:

"In the jungle, the mighty jungle,
The Muaka prowls tonight.
In the jungle, the peaceful jungle,
The Muaka prowls tonight."

Soon twilight would give way to the night, and the moon would shine down like the eye of a nocturnal hunter. And I would prowl alongside every one of them, beneath each star, among the roots of each tree. While the music of the night lulled the diurnal into their sleep, I would revel in the nocturne of the darkness. Day and night, I was the jungle.

Day and night, this was my home. This was my world. Dirges and laments had no place in the repertoire of the jungle. This was my lilt. I was its tune and it was mine. I am and always will be Kaomata--Spirit of the Trees.

[fishers64]

Member name: fishers64
Theme: Music
Word Count: 600 words
Story:

He wandered over to the blue-tinged portion of the city, where a magnificent temple stood. Two Ga-Matoran stood at the gate.

"Excuse us" said one of the guards. "You really...shouldn't...go in there. Turaga Nokama is making sure that some records are being preserved. Please don't disturb her."

"Okay" said Tarduk. "Anywhere I can help?"

"I don't know" said the guard. "Maybe you could just...take a boat. Lend a pair of hands to the Matoran carrying things out. "

"Go talk to Macku." suggested another guard.”She's in charge of boats these days."

So he wandered down to the boat dock.”I'd like to...um...get a boat?"

"Sure."

Moving along the island of Matru Nui, he spotted a cave opening slightly above the water. He beached the boat, eagerly pulling out a lightstone to examine the cavern walls.

The Agori recognized some of the lettering, but he was unable to tell the exact meaning. From the diagrams, some were plans for beasts, others notes on Matoran anatomy, and a clear warning about something, although Tarduk could only guess at what.

One of the letters, though, looked familiar. Where had he seen that before? He couldn't remember.

He continued wandering. An old storage room, bare and empty. A bad cave-in to his left. Further along, dead moss draped over carvings - Tarduk touched it and it disintegrated into dust. He kept walking.

After some time, he came upon a stack of canisters, menacing creatures contained within. In front of them, however, was an odd collection of junk, scattered about. A heatstone, chucked in one corner. A surfboard. A tablet in those strange letters.

And...a flute.

Tarduk picked it up, blew the dust out. Blew into it, mashing random keys in likely the most obnoxious flute solo ever played. Examined it again. There were two songs in it. Played the first one. Nothing.

Tarduk looked up. A gateway, behind him, half open. He shoved it open the rest of the way, looking up into the Spherus Magna sky. Played the second song.

And then something happened. A bird swooped down out of the Spherus Magna sky. Nuzzled him. Tarduk stumbled away in fright, falling over.

Getting up, he slowly backed away from the bird, which was slowly walking toward him, and the Agori could have sworn he had a confused expression.

"Villager!" shouted Turaga Matau. "Quick-dash this way." Tarduk complied, although it was a tricky task on the sloped and pitted robot face. "That tune you played there is an old summoning call for that Rahi." Matau reached out and petted the bird. "It expects you to ride."

Tarduk grimaced. "How do you ride - a bird?"

"Well, the same way you quick-ride any other thing - hop on!" And with that, he hopped on to his bird, which popped up in the air and circled about.

Tarduk nervously approached the bird. It made no threatening moves, and let the villager settle on its back. The bird squeaked a few times, as if to ask in bird language where to go. "Down.” said Tarduk in Agori.

Apparently the bird at least understood the vibe of the message, for the Rahi swooped down off the robot face and deposited the nervous villager on the ground. Tarduk got off, trying to pass the flute of to a nearby Le-Matoran. He waved him off. "You ever-keep Takua's flute. He would have been sure-proud to see you wind-fly."

Tarduk shook his head. "I'd rather not, if you don't mind. "

"Ever-scared of heights? Not-matter; me worse-scared. Best flute-keep."

Tarduk smiled at that. Maybe the newcomers weren't so different after all.

[Despair]

One more... Whew, some of these themes have been tough.

Name: Despair
Theme: Music
Word Count: 527
Story: The Flute

I sat inside my sparsely-decorated hut of leaves and twigs, my project of the last few weeks held gently within my hands. After all those failed attempts, all those late nights spent working on it and improving it, had finally culminated into something magnificent.

In my hand rested a new kind of instrument, something I had decided to call the flute. Its design was comprehensible to only one such as myself who had spent countless weeks tinkering with said design. It was beautiful, but I cared not for its appearance. No, all that mattered was the sound. The sound, that mattered immensely. I wanted to try it out, but something stayed my hand. I wanted to be the only one present when it first sang. I wanted to be not only the creator of the first flute, but the first person to listen to its sweet melody.

But where to play it? Since he wanted secrecy, the village was out of the question. The swamp was also a bad choice to how dangerous it was. So it had to be away from the Koro, perhaps even the Wahi.

Kanae Bay might just work… After all, we Le-Matoran avoid water almost as much as Po-Matoran.

With that, I exited the village. It was one of the few times I was glad to be relatively unknown, for none of the few people who knew me were out and about as I left. As much as I valued their companionship, I was preoccupied by my desire to try out my new instrument.

But of course, that was only natural.

I made my way to the shoreline, thankful once more for our aversion to water. A few seabirds flew overhead, but other than that there was no sign of life. It was there, on the deserted beach situated before a lush jungle, that I first played my flute.

It was just as beautiful as I had hoped it to be. Its sweet melody rose gently into thee, caressing my ears with their loveliness. To me, it felt as if a whole new world had opened up before me, beckoning me to step forward and immerse myself in the music. I wasn’t sure if the sound would carry any great distance, but I imagined for a moment what the other Matoran would say when they heard it. Surely I would get the respect I deserved, now that I had wrought such an incredibly instrument.

And then a Kewa bird dropped from the sky. I jumped back, startled by its sudden arrival. The Rahi looked at me with an expectant gaze, its eyes asking me something I could not decipher. I glanced down at my flute, the beginnings of an idea forming in my mind. Had it been summoned by my playing the flute? And if so, would I be able to replicate the task? Playing it once more, I waited to see if another would arrive.

It didn’t take long. Within moments, an entire flock of Kewa had descended upon me, each somehow drawn by the melody I had played.

Oh yes. A whole new world had indeed opened up before me.

[///dotcom///]

Member Name: Panty Anarchy
Theme: Music
Word Count: 599
Story: Tunes to Live For

Tunes to Live For

“My name is Boros; I’m a De-Matoran from a faraway land. These two fellow villagers are my companions.” It wasn’t a lie, though depending on who was asked, who bore the title of “companion” varied.

“What are you doing in these parts? We don’t usually get many tourists.”

“We’re minstrels.”

“Minstrels?” Music was practically unknown to the Steltian miners. For those in their line of work, it virtually didn’t exist. “We haven’t had music in this island for millennia. We’re under a tight schedule, but I think it’d be good to let the workers have a distraction. Do you think you could play for us?”

“Certainly. That is, after all, our job.”

**

The Steltian chief spoke with Boros as he oversaw the work.

“As you can see, we lead an isolated life. We’re laborers for Vortixx weapon manufacturers. It’s a tough existence, but we get by, and so long as we do our work well, we’re left alone.”

“Is your work here important?”

“Relatively speaking. The ore we dig out is used in many of Xia’s weapons, but this isn’t the only deposit, though it is one of the largest. If Xia lost the colony they’d be facing some problems. But we’re skilled in fighting as well as mining, so we’re not defenseless. We can protect this place, though so far there has been no need to do so.”

Boros only nodded.

“By the way, what would be your price? I don’t suppose you work for free, do you?”

Boros smiled. “For the time being, we’d be content with an audience and a place to stay the night.”

“Good. We can provide both.”

**

It was late in the evening, after the workers had all finished their work, and the Matoran sat on a small platform facing a large courtyard. In front of them were gathered the entirety of the workers in this island, which, unknown to its inhabitants, had recently become the target of Dark Hunter operations.

Boros and his companions, however, were aware of the situation. They were too aware.

Wordlessly, they began to play.

The three were Matoran of Sonics, so their ears were extremely sensitive. It had taken them years to become accustomed to normal speech levels, and even longer to master their instruments. They were simple, relatively crude flutes. However, the music they played was neither crude nor simple; they played a complex, mesmerizing piece, a masterful sound that resounded through the night. Every person present was caught up in the music. They were too caught up, in fact, to notice when Boros and his two companions, slipped small devices over their ears and attached a sleek, square device to the end of their flutes.

In one last movement, the three blew into their flutes to the full of their capacities. The special Xian devices they had used in conjunction with their flutes recalibrated the sound into a special frequency, which hit the Steltians in full force.

The courtyard was then full with many, many unconscious bodies.

The three were content. The unfortunate Steltians would most likely lose their jobs, but they would live. The courtyard was relatively far from the mines and storage rooms, far from the Dark Hunters’ path. There would be no confrontation.

They had been doing this for some time, trying to figure out the Hunter’s goal and preventing it from escalating into a battle. Sometimes they were successful, other times, they were not.

Today they could be glad that they had saved a few souls with their music. It was all they could do.

[Click]

I'm pretty proud of this one. Great way to almost finish off the contest!
Member Name: Click
Theme: Music
Word Count: 600
Story: Battle Hymn of the Resistance

Garan sat miserably on the ground, his Pulse Generators falling to his side. Balta looked at him worriedly, and Piruk scrapped his claws in the corner. The others simply sat in silence, waiting to hear his answer.

“I just lost most of my friends to some Toa pretenders, and you want me to lead a resistance? I…I don’t know if I have the energy…” Dalu stepped forward, offering her Chargers, but Garan just shrugged her off. “I mean, how do I lead after this much loss?”

“We all are going through what you are now, Garan,” Balta replied. “It’s times like these that we need a leader.”

“But why me? I’m just an Onu-Matoran who’s broken and left on here to rot.”

“No, Garan, you are more than that. Remember the hurricane a few years ago? You wouldn’t stop until every Matoran in the village found high ground, even at your own risk. Even after the hurricane, you directed the rebuilding of the village. You and Balta were the first to find out about the Piraka, and you know more about them than we do. You are the only candidate.”

“And what if I refuse?”

“Then,” Velika responded, “we’ll just choose someone else. It was your idea to form the resistance group, and now we are asking you to lead it.” He lent a reassuring hand to Garan who blankly stared at it.

Suddenly, a voice filled the air with a soft melody, followed by a strong chorus. After recovering from their shock, the resistance team turned to face Dalu, the hardened warrior, singing her heart out. It was a song they had all heard from Turaga Jovan, who had heard it from his Turaga, and so on as the song was passed down through generations to inspire courage in a weakened leader’s heart. His spirit rose as the volume did, and he noticed that Balta had joined in, followed by Piruk and Velika. Soon, the small cave was ringing with the sound of Matoran voices who had forgotten their troubles outside. Once the verse was over, Garan spoke.

“I’ll do it, on one condition. That’s our battle hymn.” The five other Matoran nodded their agreement as they prepared for the battle to come.

-----

Months passed, and in that time, a new hope had appeared on Voya Nui. The Toa Nuva had arrived, and after some misunderstandings, the Voya Nui Resistance Team had formed a strong bond with the Toa, who promised to lead them and their village to freedom from the Piraka. Today was the first battle to regain the Toa’s Kanohi and Tools, which had been taken earlier. Already, Garan was beginning to see the signs of weakness in Tahu’s maskless face. The attack would have to be as soon as possible.

First of all, to get inside the door, the Resistance Team convinced Toa Lewa to taunt Reidak and get him to smash the door. From there, a simple path leads to the Trophy Room, where Piruk had said the Toa’s Kanohi and Tools were kept. The second stand was to be made against the Piraka, but that’s where everything went wrong.

The Piraka had made a new friend: Brutaka, former protector of the Matoran with the power of Dimensional Gates. His massive power to protect was used to destroy every bit of resistance the Toa had in them, and then capture them again.

Garan was not so lucky. He awoke to find himself in the Chamber of Truth, the Piraka’s interrogation room. Hearing the few familiar notes, Garan could smile, knowing help was on the way.

[Aderia]

Member Name: Zosia Darr
Theme: Bionicle - Music
Word Count: 459
Story: Spiriah's Symphony

Again, the pounding rhythm in her ears was threatening to split her head in two. For as long as she could remember, the beat had been with her. Of course, it hadn’t always been so torturous and agonizing. Before, it had only been a nuisance, with the squabbling of everyday life enough to drown it out.

The soft, melodious chatter in the market used to play as a background. The varying patterns of thumping footsteps entering and milling about her shop used to syncopate most elegantly with her own rhythm. Resonating tenors and sweet contralto used to swirl about her, harmonizing in pleasant accompaniment. The wind used to mosey on in through her open shop windows, humming a carefree tune, tickling the curtains into laughing some days. Back then, the song that she lived in was peaceful and harmonious.

And then Makuta Spiriah came to Zakaz.

Cursed Makuta Spiriah had distorted her gentle lullaby into Karzahni’s own twisted symphony.

No longer was the cadence inside of her steady and reliable. Now it hammered erratically and cracked like some ghastly kind of thunder, always trying to pound its way out of her head.

Even over time, the dreadful new throbbing didn’t subside. Once she realized that it wouldn’t go away, or get any better, decided to go on living live as she always had; finding music in everyday tasks to accompany the tempo.

But it was very clear that her old life was not enough to satiate the new rhythm. One day in the shop, one empty day, and she had almost been overwhelmed by the pounding monster inside her mind, deaf to anything else.

She lived alone, and she used to be solitary and content by nature. But there was nobody to stop her when she started going out and
experimenting with different ways to try and drown out, or at the very least, make peace with her new rhythm.

Arrows thudding into flesh, clubs crunching protosteel armor, bones being snapped over her knee, and extremities crushed beneath her stomping feet now played in counter to her beat. Swords ringing on armor and maces screaming through the air threw their respective notes into the din.

And on really and truly horrible days, like today, when the thrashing in her head threatened her sanity, the only vocals that could complete this new song, the only vocals powerful and worthy enough to soothe the beat within here were the agonized screams and final, howling curses of the enemies she’d made over the recent years.

All of this was now contained in a day’s work, a day’s musical and glorious work. After a job well done, the repulsive, echoing beat of her empty heart was just a bit calmer in her ears.

Edited by Zosia Darr, Jun 07 2012 - 01:07 AM.

[Excelsior]

Member Name: Excelsior
Theme: Music
Word Count: 586
Story: Song of Light

In perfect silence, Krakua slipped through the tunnels of the Archives. He needed to leave Metru Nui, and he had heard there was an old chute system nearby.

He edged cautiously around a corner. It seemed probable that Makuta wouldn't be noticing these obscure tunnels. Still, it was as well to be cautious. Even without the threat of a hostile "Great Spirit," this was dangerous. After all, it was the Archives.

Still, he wasn't sensing any sonic vibrations around him, so there shouldn't be anything nearby. He rounded another corner.

Standing in front of him was a black-and-yellow Rahkshi.

He stared at it. But I still can't hear it...

Then he remembered what power black-and-yellow Rahkshi had.

He had no time to think it over, though. The Rahkshi moved toward him and...Spoke?

"Welcome, Toa," it hissed. "My Master, Makuta,will be pleased by your death."

Krakua stared. "You can't talk," he told it blankly.

"I am a Shadow Kraata, fool," it said contemptuously. "My Master's highest servant. I am at least as intelligent as you are."

Then it attacked, with a sonic scream.

He blocked it out with his own powers over sound. Wonderful, he thought, screaming back at it. A Rahkshi with Toa-level intelligence and my own power. I've heard of Shadow Toa, but this...

As the fight progressed, it became clear the Rahkshi knew sonics as well as he did. It parried his attacks without difficulty, and its own discordant screams were devastating.

I'm a Toa of Sonics, he thought angrily, struggling to withstand the cacophony of sound. This thing is fighting me my way - and winning.

I hate it.

He opened his mouth to let loose another ugly scream - and stopped. Was it fighting his way...or was he using its tactics?

He ran over their respective attacks in his mind. They had both been using ugliness and discord..Makuta's territory. He had been giving in to despair and hatred.

No wonder it had been winning.

But perhaps he could still win this...like a Toa. He silenced the tunnel...and began his attack.

The tunnel was filled with sound, but not the screeches and howls of a moment ago. This was harmony, beauty. It was a music.

It began softly, but quickly grew. It held the notes of all instruments, and some notes which had never been made by any instrument. It held voices, among them Krakua's own, as he sang.

He straightened, pouring the melody out of himself. Never before had he realized the extent of his power. He was creating beauty greater than he had ever imagined, save in dreams. The Rahkshi cowered away from him, striving...but failing...to fight against this melody.

His music sang on, of hope in the darkness, of love for one's comrades, of honor and loyalty and selfless sacrifice. It sang of all that was best and purest in living beings.

It was a Song of Light, and the creature of the darkness could not withstand it.

The Song ceased. "I am sorry," Krakua said quietly to the fallen Rahkshi. "Sorry that the Music brought you pain. Surely if there had been any good in you, it would have been strengthened, not destroyed."

He walked on down the tunnel. His heart was still filled with the Song, and he felt more hope than he had since the Kraahkan had appeared in the sky.

Somehow, he knew that the Song would always exist, in true heroes' hearts...and while it did, the Shadow could never be said to have truly won.
___

Okay...

At the beginning I felt like I was borrowing from Star Wars, but it was really more like The Dark Is Rising by the end. Also reminiscent of part of Clifford D. Simak's Way Station.

And yes, Shadow Kraata can talk. I discovered that fact on BS01. Creepy, right?

So, this is the last Bionicle theme. I'm pretty happy with my entry for it.

-Excelsior

[Space: Ocean of Awe]

Member name: Space: Ocean of Awe
Theme: Music
Word count: 597
Story: The Musician

The chronicler spoke to the Turaga, of the strange, yet utterly beautiful, event he had witnessed all those years ago. He had failed to mention the mysterious songs in those long texts and records he had written, for he was never quite certain if what he had experienced was real, or if it was some apparition created by his mind as he lay, helpless and lost, in the vast, unconquered realm of nature.

Now he knew that what he heard was true, for he had met the Musician once again, her notes still as beautiful, perfect, as they were before, her voice as strong as the wind, yet gentle like the stream that ran yonder, a sad cry of a wolf, yet more energetic than a meadow decorated with the boldest of flowers; and she still played the instrument, what a beautiful thing! As she puffed into the flute of branches and grass and plucked the strings of nature, an otherworldly sound resonated in the hearts of the listeners, and when that instrument was combined with her euphonious tones and astonishing vocals, it transcended the very nature of music.

Afraid, despite his acquired descriptive skills, that he would be unable to portray the preternatural qualities of the Musician, the chronicler began his account of the night, thousands of years past, that he met the Musician.

"I lay between two rocks, cowering from the unseen, from the darkness that surrounded me; the stars shone, the brightest I had ever seen them, for there were no lightstones for Kio around. I heard the sound of Rahi deep within the shadowed forest, imagining the most foul monsters. This unknown, uncharted territory had me quivering, the very prospect of spending the night without a roof, above my head, without a foundation beneath my feet, terrified me beyond reason; there was nothing, or so I thought, that could alleviate the horrors of this situation.

"Curling up between the two rocks, I resigned myself to the night, hoping for no more than a few winks of sleep. Then I heard something, it sounded as if it came from the far off mountains; my first though was that it was a Rahi wolf, howling to it's pack about the vulnerable prey that I was; but it changed, the voice grew, echoing through the mountains, rustling the leaves: it was the wind whistling through the branches, between blades of grass - no, now it was the stream that gurgled over the smoothed pebbles, then it was a bird, singing the last notes before it slept, soon replaced by the hoots of an owl. Then it began to fade away, until all I heard were it's echoes, until all I felt was an inner calm that I had never felt before.

"Upon awakening the next morning, I could hear that supernatural voice once again, could feel the Musician's breath against my cheek as she whispered in my ear, feel the strings of her instrument beneath my feet: the blades of grass that swayed so gently in the wind. The bubbly song of the stream was intoxicating, the choir birds sang, whistled, tweeted their joyful songs, and at last I met the Musician in person, or rather in all her forms: for she was Nature herself, the lucent stream that flowed over the pebbles, the cool breeze that swayed the trees.

"Today I met her again, the Musician, as I walked the forest path over yonder; heard her play once again, her voice sweet as ever, and I hope that someday you will attend the Musician's concert too."

[xccj]

Member name: Xccj
Theme: Music
Word count: 541
Story: Taipu and his Music
(Yeah, it's a little late, but Velox said it was okay)

Deep in the mines of Onu-Wahi, the Onu-Matoran worked tirelessly as they dug through the earth and searched for protodermis. The Great Mine itself had struck an impenetrable rock layer, but the Matoran had adapted and began to spread their tunnels out elsewhere.

Shaft BC-12 was one of the furthest reaching of the new tunnels, and it extended so far north that it was reaching the coastline of Po-Wahi. However, the Matoran had been making many hopeful discoveries of protodermis, so they continued digging in hopes of opening a successful new branch.

Unfortunately, the conditions in this new mining tunnel had deteriorated. It wasn’t due to a lack of lightstones or numerous Kofu-Jaga attacks. Rather, Taipu had jointed the team.

Taipu had been one of the hardest working Onu-Matoran, and he could dig for hours without tiring. But he had recently been on a trip to Le-Koro, where he had embarked on an adventure with the Chronicler. And during his stay in the treetop village, he had picked up some new habits, like singing to himself.

Now, while Taipu dug away, he hummed or sang out lyrics to himself to pass the time. But Taipu wasn’t the brightest Matoran, and his songs lacked appeal to everybody but him. So as he sang to himself, his fellow miners cringed at his singing voice.

“I’m a-digging through the rock,” he would sing. “There’s no time to talk, cause I’m a-digging through the rock. Don’t bother checkin’ the clock, cause I’m a-digging through the rock!”

The other Onu-Matoran began to complain, but Dosne the Mining Captain refused to move Taipu to another location. He was still doing his work well, so there was no reason to relocate him.

Then came the day that the Blade Burrowers attacked. The miners first felt a slight tremble, and then the nearest wall caved in and two of these Rahi stormed into the tunnel. The Matoran instantly drew weapons, but they knew it was for naught. The Blade Borrowers were fearsome Rahi, and few Matoran lived through an encounter with one, and not without withstanding many injuries.

But the Rahi suddenly hesitated as one Matoran stepped forward. It was Taipu.

“Back, mean old Rahi, get back!” he started to sing. “We don’t want you to attack. We don’t want to be your snack. Get back, mean old Rahi, get back!”

The Blade Borrowers had an excellent hearing, which they used to help find their prey. But their hearing was now turned against them with Taipu’s music. Perhaps it was his gruff voice, or his tacky rhymes, of just the fact that he seemed to be enjoying his little song, but the two Rahi found his music distasteful. They quickly retreated under the influence of Taipu’s melody, and the threat was over almost as soon as it had begun.

The miners were quick to congratulate Taipu, since he had managed to save them when they felt all hope was lost. And they decided to keep him within their company as they continued to dig in search for more protodermis. And they even didn’t mind his consistent singing, because now they knew it would also scare dangerous Rahi away.

Instead, they invested in ear muffs to keep out the sound.

[Maganar]

Member Name: Maganar
Theme: Music
Word Count: 488
Story: The Slave and her Music

Up and down, back and forth. The hammers rose and fell in synchronization to satisfy the will of the Skrall slavers. Lihaka struggled to keep in the good graces of her vile masters, lest they decide she was incapable of performing her assigned duties. In that case, her life would no longer hold value to them… and that was a possibility she’d rather not consider.

She had been enslaved during the most recent wave. The Skrall had requested that their slaver contact, Sahmad, bring back Ice Tribe Agori that would be able to work on the exterior of the mountain mines, where punishing frigid winds might prove too much for the average Agori. She was one of the first Ice Tribe victims.

Lihaka was slowly going insane; she was fairly certain of that. The stress that was caused by being a slave of the Skrall eventually took a toll on anyone’s state of mind. She held onto one thing, though: a little tune, a favorite piece of music that her friend used to play her.

He was a Water Tribe Agori. He had a beautiful wind instrument fashioned out of a sturdy reed he’d found in a spring on Water Tribe territory. Every time she left Iconox on business in Water Tribe territory, he would play her the same tune.

It was sublime to listen to. The melody caused your mind to conjure up images of a beautiful world where waves still lapped on shorelines and plants and animals flourished rather than shriveled under the sun’s unforgiving heat. A world like they said Spherus Magna had once been like. According to him, the tune was ancient. Perhaps it went back to those times.

And here she was now, braving the perilous slopes of mountains that lied even further north than the Black Spike Range. There was a fairly good chance she would never hear that music ever again, but it was impossible to deracinate the tune from its home in her head. When the mining labor became insufferable, that wondrous piece of music would come to mind and offer welcome reprieve as she became numb to the world around her, lost within her mind.

When there was nothing to drive her to continue onwards, she told herself that she was one day going to break free – one day the chance would come, and then she would go straight into the heart of the Water Tribe’s land and hear him play that tune once again. It was the only impetus Lihaka could call upon: the hope for a future where she might have the chance to once again hear the music - once again let her mind conjure up those images of a beautiful world that no longer exists.

If Lihaka hoped to avoid going mad, she had to dream, dream of a world better than the cruel one she lived in. And so she dreamed of the music…

[Velox]

The Legacy and Ultimatum polls have been posted; sorry for the delay, guys (BricksCascade and getting my wisdom teeth taken out today are my excuses). I'll finish making the rest of the polls tomorrow. Please go vote after reading all the entries in each poll!

Remember, there's still time to enter the last theme: Preparation. Look for it in the COT topic.

Edited by Velox, Jun 07 2012 - 04:00 AM.

[Toa of Dancing]

Well, now that I have finished writing all twelve entries, I might as well reiterate my thoughts: This contest was great. Thank you Velox, thank you Fives, for a great creative opportunity. I like the ideas you two get, and the ability to think up twelve different themes for twelve consecutive days was awesome.

Also, did you two decide that the finals of each theme would be judged, not voted upon?

[Velox]

Also, did you two decide that the finals of each theme would be judged, not voted upon?

If I remember correctly, we decided that the final voting for each theme would be polled. Then once we get a winner from each theme (so, 12 winners), those will either be placed in a poll for the "final final" winner, or they might be judged; I forget what we decided if we decided anything yet.


Also, everyone: The Character Story and Music polls have been posted! Please go vote after reading all the entries! And remember, you still have a little over 24 hours to enter the final theme: Preparation (look for it in the COT topic).

[Velox]

Preparation

I typed away furiously at the black keyboard before me. I glanced at the clock on my computer screen. One-hundred words to go, nine minutes left to enter. I focused on the task at hand, pushing all other thoughts aside and only caring about the story in front of me. I continued to type, my stream of consciousness flowing straight from my mind to the keys and subsequently onto the computer.
..........There, I said to myself, finished. I looked at the clock again. Perfect. Three minutes left. I quickly switched to my internet browser and clicked on the Fast Reply box at the bottom of the screen. I quickly typed out my Member Name, the Theme, Word Count, and then copied and pasted my story from the Microsoft Word document and into the white box. No time for any formatting – not that it was allowed, anyway – so I gave it a quick once-over, spotted a single grammar mistake, fixed it, and then clicked the “Post” button.
..........The page loaded and there it was: my story entered into the contest with a minute left. I smiled to myself, proud that I accomplished my goal and entered in time, even if just barely.
..........I scrolled up the page, glancing at the other entries. Forty entries all together.
..........“Quite a good turnout, wasn’t it?” Velox asked as he posted the new theme.
..........“Indeed. And just one down; still eleven more to go.”
..........“Time to start on ‘Treasure’,” he said, the second theme posted.
..........There it was. The next theme. Treasure. Already the wheels in my head began turning, thinking of a myriad of possibilities I could use for my story. I sat down and began writing, excited to write again.

~ :: ~

…Five Days Later

Amor Omnia Vincit. I wracked my brain trying to think of a story idea for this theme. But nothing came. Only six themes into the contest and my inspiration was already dying. My writing seemed to get worse and worse with each story.
..........Not matter what I did, nothing came. Come on, I shouted inwardly. You can do this, you can do this, just focus. I sat there for a few minutes, head resting in my hands, probing my brain for answers, ideas. Something.
..........And then it hit me. The inspiration inside me flourished once again; an idea had popped into my brain. I opened up a blank Word document quickly, and began to write, my fingers flowing across the keyboard. It was exhilarating, enlivening.
..........But that feeling didn’t last long.

~ :: ~

…Six Days Later

There. Last one, I think to myself after I had finished writing my entry for the twelfth theme. I drop my hands, exhausted. Relieved that the twelve days are over. My fingers are sore, my mind tired. But I know it’s over. I completed them all, entered every single theme. And now finally I can relax. A sense of pride filled me. I did it. I leaned back in my chair, propping my feet up on the desk, resting my head in my hands.
..........“Why are you laying back?” Velox asked. “These were just the beginning. The warm-ups. Simply a preparation for the real contest. So get back to your computer and start typing. The BZPower Library Summer Olympics 2012 are about to begin.”
..........And that invigorated feeling hit me again as my passion for writing consumed me. I was ready for the challenge. Ready to write.

~ :: ~

That’s right, folks. “Warm-Up: Flash Fiction Marathon” -- It was a marathon, yes, but a marathon for some is just the warm-up for the Olympics. Training. Preparation. The same goes for this. These twelve days were just the beginning.

I would like to officially announce the Library Summer Olympics 2012. It will be both COT and Bionicle. So what are you waiting for? Grab a keyboard, turn those thinking caps back on, and sit back and wait for the contest to be posted.