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OOC: I will post as Stannis in the morning. For now, at least I was able to write the Alpy post I intended days ago. IC Alpinist | Ko-Metru The climber hated falling, it was the antithesis to his vocation. Falling felt like failure and it rendered him defenseless to gravity's cruel arms. The protodermis chute came to an abrupt end and the fluids dumped out into some kind of reservoir and the Alpinist found himself cast down with all the ceremony of a raindrop from a stormcloud. Without the tension of the protodermis in the chute to keep him contained all drag was lost and so went any control he had. Instinctively, the Alpinist reached out with his tools in an eager attempt to grasp at anything—a ledge, an outcropping, a wall, anything solid with which to cling to and save himself—but there was nothing. Just liquid protodermis that was rapidly losing even its own substance, quickly turning from a solid flow to a scattered spray. The climber was falling freely now, and he suddenly felt afraid. He not only hated the feeling of falling as a sensation, he also feared the repercussions of the act—a failure of protecting himself on one hand, and on the other a realization that he was not in control of his movement. The Alpinist's entire way of life hinged on his ability to go where he pleased, how he pleased, and (most importantly) not fall. And yet, fall he did, spewed out of the broken chute like a bad meal. With nothing but his fast reflexes to guide his motions he reached back and withdrew his kanoka launcher as his mind quickly figured what he needed too do in order to barely survive. Despite the darkness from the tangled nets of ancient chutes that blocked out even most of the twin suns' rays this far in he could tell that the pool below was not the biggest concern. It may well injure him, or even break his back, but it would not kill him... by itself, anyway. The real danger was from the waterfall he was falling in; without a break in the flow, the constant deluge wouldn't allow for any water tension and churn the pool to a froth that he would have no hope of swimming in, and even if he was not a man of meager aquatics proficiency at best even the strongest strokes would do nothing to help control his movements there. Everything hinged on his ability to take the waves, as a matoran with no skills to help in that endeavor. All, save one: In his launcher was a single Ta-Metru freeze disk. He largely preferred using disks from his own Metru as their dodging abilities were useful for evading mischievous birds that would chase kanoka he launched from the tops of towers, but he sometimes carried other varieties too. And, he wagered, the power of a Ta-Metru disk could possible carry the disk against the torrent and reach where he needed it to go. Without wasting much more thought, he aimed, and—but—— Turaga Sans happened. There was no way to shoot his disk without striking the suddenly large turaga and, he realized, the other matoran. Perhaps, he thought sardonically, a Ko-Metru disk would have been a better choice after all, but there was no exchanging anymore. He was once again not in control of his descent as a tendril of water enveloped him and smoothed his fall into the reservoir, and it seemed like pure luck that Sans did not smash the Alpinist and do what the pool might have done without the Turaga's intervention. But the Alpinist maintained his gaze to the top of the waterfall all the while, and even when he descended into the pool slightly-feet first and sank by a bio into the dark water he kept his single-eye focused aim narrowed carefully on a single point. Sans and the others collapsed into the pool just as the Alpinist squeezed the launcher. It was that or certain death, he assumed, and the risk was worth it if it meant the vague possibility of survival. From below the water he fired his launcher and the Ta-Metru Kanoka's powerful flight broke free from the water just barely beside Sans' enlarged body before surging straight and true through the liquid protodermis cascade, battering the torrent aside in a determined path to reach its target despite the possibility for it to lose momentum and fail completely only to fall just as the Alpinist had. It took several more seconds, a long enough period for Sans and the others to start finding some equilibrium in the cold and frothy pool, but the disk did finally strike. It hit, as intended, on the broken chute's apex point, and the activated Freeze ability quickly exploded in a flash of white. The flow of water from the chute was abated, and the last vestiges of the waterfall fell like rain until everything turned quiet again. Quiet, that is, until Sans spoke. "After such a long trip to Metru-Nui, I needed a good bath, huhuhuhu." The Alpinist was slightly furious at a number of things, but despite his feelings he accepted the gifts of being alive and in good company and grit his teeth instead as he managed, best he could, to tread water and stay afloat in control of himself. "Well that was **itty," he said finally.

IC Kilo-M9 - Po-metru, chute station: Records on Po-metru in memory banks are limited. Unable to narrow down search area. More data is required. Conversation detected. Voice does not match records. Combat and pursuit abilities not suited for current situation. Recommended action: remain hidden in rear compartment of transport. In the back of the group’s transport, the metal guardian was still. The only sound it made was the soft whir of gears in its cerebral processing unit, but even that constant sound was more muted than normal. It drowned out entirely by the rumble of the motors in the tour group’s new vehicle. Looking at this motionless pile of parts, one couldn’t help but wonder: do robots dream of clockwork mahi?

IC: Reliable Narrator | Barraki Island Capital “Come away from the window. You can’t hypnotize all of Metru-Nui just by staring at it,” said the soothing voice of Pridak as he lounged on the wide sofa he called a throne. Barraki Pridak was a warrior who loved comfort, pleasure, and his own achievements. His robes were white with red trim, silver bangles dangling from his wrists and the points of his mask as he swirled an ornate glass of bula berry wine. He watched Takadox staring out from the throne room toward a regal warship in the port. The blue armored Barraki’s hands were gripped tightly on the windowsill, his lips sneering and whispering curses. “Takadox I can’t hear you if you don’t speak up. You know this.” “Carapar did not have the right to take the mission right out from under me. He stole my prize. That orb was mine by right. The lands south of Destral are mine.” Takadox fumed and spun around, angrily gesturing toward Pridak. “Why do you let this happen? Why do you let him steal from me like this? After all my people have done for this cause, all the blood we’ve spilled, you just let him waltz across my borders and pis--” “I stole nothing, and we could hear you from down the hall,” Carapar replied, entering the throne room. His heavy footsteps echoed in the vaulted roof. They bickered in a large and ornately decorated throne room. Pridak never left except to wage war if he could help it, preferring to adorn every space with the trinkets of glory and victory on the battlefield. Tattered banners of fallen matoran lands formed the rug Carapar walked across towards his fellow kings. Kalmah Lord of Scars, the red warrior loved by his people, walked with him. His religious whips were wrapped around his arms as always. He tossed a war torn banner of another conquest on the ground, then kicked it toward Pridak. A mask bounced out, sliding across the stone floor where the carpet ended. Pridak tossed a pillow toward one of the piles of trophies near his throne. It jostled a heap of green armor, which rustled awake and rolled over with an aged cough to reveal a very much alive turaga of air. “What do you make of this?” Pridak asked. “A bad idea,” Nidhiki replied. “Cornering Metru-Nui's religion is only going to make it more aggressive. Artakha is a sacred land. Killing its leader isn’t doing you any favors.” “He was just an old man in a mask,” Kalmah said as he shrugged. His species were maskless air breathers, caring little for the ways of matoran or their needs after centuries of subjugation by a remote empire. "Besides, their faith is broken pile of lies. The truth should be known." Nidhiki rubbed his chin. “An old man and a pile of lies maybe, but a religious icon more importantly. His brother won’t take this well.” “Stop ignoring me,” Takadox blathered. The Barraki and the traitorous turaga ignored him. “Karzhani is just another old man with a mask,” Kalmah replied. Pridak nodded. “Mantax should be able to handle him alone, if he’s anything like his brother," Carapar suggested. “Where is Mantax, Pridak?” Pridak leaned back into his sofa and took a sip of wine. “He went to the front lines. Something about setting up a surprise.” Pridak’s wine glass lifted into the air as Takadox swiped it from his grasp. “I said stop ignoring me. Why do you let him insult my people like this? It’s unjust.” “You don’t get to have everything you want,” Carapar replied. “Stop whining about it. You were busy, I stepped in. The plan goes on. When I’m busy you’ll step in, as you always do.” “Are you implying something?” “No, I think I made it very plain,” said Carapar. The two barraki stared into each other’s eyes, rage filling Takadox’s and a bored glaze filling Carapar’s. Sparks flew between them. Kalmah stood by Carapar's side innocently, but Pridak noticed the warlord's whips loosening and his clenched fists. Takadox broke first, turning away grumpily. “Well, you owe me and my people an island for what you did.” He crossed his arms and stalked back toward the window to lean against the sill and stair at the sunset. Nidhiki chuckled. “You wage a war to destroy my people in the name of justice and equality and you squabble over rocks and islands? If only I was back in Metru-Nui. I could make everything so much easier and just kill her myself. I did it once, I can do it again." An uneasy silence filled the room. Pridak leaned forward, hands clasped in front of his mouth as he stared at the turaga who'd come to them with such a tempting offer so many moons ago. He'd been faithful, fulfilled his duties. Finally, Pridak whispered, “that can be arranged."

figured i'd do one of these and actually contribute something slightly meaningful to this site. here's a kiina i recently did, which is actually a redraw of a kiina design i sketched several years ago, just in my current art style. the first in a series of bionicle waifus i'm gifting to my mates soon.

IC: Mazor-Island Mazor joined the group examining the orb. "Whatever this thing is it seemed important to whoever built this place." He said. "Maybe we should take it. Carapar won't be happy if we come back empty handed. Maybe the Baraki can figure it out." IC: Jephro-Beach Assault @Biological Chronicle Jephro nodded. "Th-th-thank you," he panted. He started to lower himself and roll over. IC: Informant-Po-Metru The informant ducked out of a Po-Metru chute station, his ride had been smooth and uneventful. He stepped into an alleyway and activated his mask, summoning a duplicate of himself. "Alright," the true Informant said. "We're in a bit of a bind, someone hacked the dark hunter database, and I have to find a place to hide out for the time being. However, we do have a mark somewhere in Le-Koro, I need you to go down there and assist." The duplicate nodded and turned to leave. The true Informant also turned and walked in the oposite direction. Headed towards the Po-Metru wastes.

They only have access to the music of their own culture, which is probably mostly tribal music, seeing as there's no evidence of any sort of music beyond Mata Nui. That's what they'd listen to even with access to other music, since it's what's familiar to them. Except Pohatu, who would obviously listen to grindcore.

I find it interesting on Mata Nui that Nixie is the main astronomer, however in Metru Nui astronomy was mostly the practice of the Ko-Matoran. I guess the main difference is on Mata Nui, Nixie was looking up at a real sky of stars, and the planets and moons of the Solis Magna system. I wonder if Bara Magna and Bota Magna were visible in the night sky above? On the other hand the Ko-Matoran back on Metru Nui were mostly staring at a bunch of blinking lights inside a robot head! As for the Amazonian connection... if the other Koro's were not also divided by gender but had a more 50/50 male-female ratio like human society; then I could say Ga-Koro could indeed be a tribe of Amazon-like characters. But since each element is gender locked, I really can't draw the connection since by the same logic the rest of the island is a tribe of dudes.

Great to see this question circulating again. I guess it's just one of the great mysteries of the universe.

Have we considered the possibility that the Piraka themselves wrote and recorded it

I think it's obvious. Only one one being would have that kind of knowledge about the pirakas personalities and the comical sense to rap about them....it was performed by Vezon himself...