Leaderboard

IC: Waveahk (The Coliseum, Main Lobby) Stepping out of the metal cage, Waveahk felt light-footed and light-headed. He stumbled out into the lobby, filled with panicking Matoran, and to be honest he felt like joining them. So to recap: he'd been chased across the city by annoyingly persistent robots, almost buried alive by an insane fanatic, thrown in jail willingly, saw his co-worker transformed into something monstrous, left to die at the hands of a headless abomination, had his physical appearance deemed 'ugly' by a Skakdi, - he didn't quite remember where that fit in the timeline, only that it did - taken away to a pitch black void of nothingness by some eldritch creature and told to kill an unknown and a God. Must be Thursday. He could never get the hang of Thursdays.

Hey y'all! I recently realized that I've poked and prodded at Lego BIONICLE (GBA) (aka Quest for the Toa, aka Tales of the Tohunga) a lot, and as such I probably know a thing or two about it that most Bionicle fans don't. Nothing earth-shaking or with deep canonical implications, but things I find interesting nonetheless. Many of these "minor discoveries" don't really merit their own forum thread, so I've created a blog where I'll start posting about them. I hope that it'll be interesting whether you've played the game or not, in the same way Supper Mario Broth is interesting. Give it a look and let me know what you think! Post 0: Introduction and FAQ

IC: Aradra - Coliseum Bright radiance shone out from the supposed matoran of ice as Dume touched her heartlight and shouted the power of a mighty warrior into her soul. The room was set ablaze in pure white glow as the matoran's form shifted, her ragged grey clothing and her makeshift bronze armour shifting around her growing form into a beautiful grey and white robe, adorned with immaculate bronze ornamental armour, her cumbersome second mask shifting into a near perfect fit around her empowered Mahiki, a second face that concealed the scars of her past with lustrous glowing metal. As she stood there before everyone, she reached up a hand, and instead of the ice she expected to form through exertion of her being, a beam of light shone up and into the roof of the room, before she cut it off and closed her hand in wonderment, the toa of light now standing regal and complete. Her white glowing eyes shifted from her hand to the comparatively smaller Dume, to her fellow new toa the Alpinist and Korruhn, pure wonder shining through even the emotionless shape of her bronze facade.

The Leonn Files: Entry 0.5 Subject Matter: Origins Entry: "Well, if we're going to tell this particular tale, we're going to have to far away, to the blasted and accursed island I was born on. Zakaz, a name now almost synonymous with Karzahni, infamous for its dim witted and warlike locals and its complete lack of anything pleasant. Like most Skakdi I was born into a litter, on average a group of five, for me it was a group of four. All brothers, I should add. From the time I could even stand up to watch a fight, I knew how much I despised the culture I was raised in. Every day was another needless argument which led to a pointless scrap which then led to a pointless injury and sometimes a pointless murder. It wasn't the murder I had a problem with, really, rather the complete lack of lateral thinking that caused it. Skakdi fight, and fight, and fight without even a thought in their head as to why. They just do it. Of course, I couldn't avoid the fights forever. Once I was big enough and had enough of a spine (no pun intended) to protest my brothers taking more food than they deserved, the scraps started. Skakdi teeth do grow back, if you ever wondered. Of my brothers, the one that I could consistently beat to an absolute pulp was the runt of the litter (despite being almost exactly as old as me). A Ko-Skakdi, a complete imbecile that never seemed to shut up, at least not until I broke one of his spines. He always stuck around, though. Eventually I just took to ignoring him, as did my elder brothers. Once we all got old enough we chose our paths. I say paths as if there's ever really any choice in Zakaz. One way or another, you end up in the war. Of course, whilst my fighting skills weren't at the best they could be, I soon found an interesting niche I began to enjoy. Selling information. To the disgust of many Skakdi generals, I spent most of my time behind enemy lines, murdering and backstabbing as needed but occasionally finding the opportunity to give information to certain smarter warlords. The runt, Thom, however, found himself a job as a mercenary for whoever paid. Whilst I was more...refined with my choice of allies, I'd often find him wherever I went, working for almost anybody, with that cursed firework revolver he was soon known for. This soon became somewhat of a rivalry, as quite often we found ourselves on opposite sides of the war, both forced to the outskirts for different reasons. Him, for cowardice, and me for my thrills. I'll skip all the boring bits. Our little rivalry came to a head during our first and only skirmish. I'd just disabled a Hagah plasma cannon behind enemy lines, and was on my path to getting out without being decapitated when the little runt caught me just outside the fort. Revolver in hand, he intended to end my life with that stupid, irritating smirk he had on his mug. He attempted banter, as always, which I promptly rebuked with as much venom in my intonation as I could manage, without getting a firework in my skull. Thom wasted no time, however, in firing off a projectile right at my face. I swerved to dodge, but absolutely infuriatingly, the runt's aim was a lot better than his punches, and he'd seemingly accounted for my evasive nature. It's difficult to put into writing just how painful a burn is. Bruises, breaks, lacerations and shrapnel all pale in comparison to just how excruciating the feeling of your skin and muscle melting is. I'd always been averse to fire for whatever reason, but never had I experienced what Thom had given me in just a tiny, circular burn on my temple. And worse, it was this runt, this skinny little waste of protodermis that had caused this agony. I was naturally just about able to fight past the pain and my aura instinctively switched on, causing the coward's aim to shake as terror clutched at him. He missed his following shots, and a metal boomerang sliced into his shoulder at a weak attempt at vengeance, but the damage was already done. This is all incredibly embarassing to put into words, but I feel honesty is the best policy. I never saw Thom after I managed to flee from him that battle. I hope he's dead in a ditch somewhere. Maybe he is. Most likely, though, his stupid grin's still out there for some other poor sod to look at. In any case, Zakaz is behind me, thanks to you. I have a career I love (As well as a boss I love~), and I'm completely free of the past. Worth the pain, then, wouldn't you agree?" ~L.A. END ENTRY.

IC: Othorak, Colosseum "So will our will be His will..." Othorak extended his arms, meeting his two comrades'. "The mission... will be fulfilled..." Amethyst energies swirled with shadows as a ghoulish ambiance enveloped the three abominations. In maybe a minute, the devilish storm has come and gone, but in that time, three creatures became one. IC: [Untethered Kaita]???, Colosseum This... being... thing, was as ever a Titan as Othorak was. Its new armor seemed dipped in blood, with blackened, charred skulls emanating from his shoulders and haunted flames erupting from every crevice of his weighted form. His head a contorted mass of three different colored eyes forcing their way out from behind an unrecognizable Kanohi. HIs maw... wet with hunger that only death may satiate. The Titan strode forward, each step thundering as the monster moved down the hallway, towards a stairway marked by sign. This beast... this creature... it mind only entertained a single thought... "We are come, Lord, so that you may rise."

IC: Reliable Narrator | Coliseum “Ko-rr-uhn,” said the voice. Then a tap on the shoulder. “Ma-Tan-ui.” The whisper came close behind but echoed from far out away from the elevator. The slug-thing forced its way inside his arm, finding a home and making itself quite comfortable. When it was done, Waveahk couldn't even tell it was there, save for a small bump on the outside of his arm. Then the lights flickered back on, the elevator trundled upwards, and the door dinged to let Waveahk out into the main lobby of the Coliseum. When he looked behind none of the bent metal he'd seen during the trip up remained. Nothing at all of whatever just happened. He shivered, and imagined the slug-thing in him.

IC: Irna snarled as she watched Ostrox slip away into the crowd -- but she couldn't help but linger on his final question. "Mazor," she said, turning back to her companion. "Are you planning on using the cube again?" OOC: @Smudge8 -Void

IC: Reliable Narrator | Coliseum As Waveahk tried to get a closer look at what was in his hands he felt the elevator slowing down. The floor beneath him gave a shudder. Looking back he saw whatever shape was in his hand twitch. The squirming and wriggling began to make him uneasy, and it started to move with a life of its own. Was it really a weapon? The glints of light in the darkness made it look like a glassy sort of eel, but too stubby and bulbous to be an eel. Maybe a worm, or a slug? Something with metal segmented plates whatever it was. The ding of the elevator arriving at floor Ground broke his train of thought while Waveahk wrestled to keep the whatever it was held firmly in both hands. The doors rattle open. There was no Ground floor. There was nothing outside the doors. “Fo-r a cu-p of wa-te-r.” Then Waveahk realized with drawing horror what his thought had been. And the creature in his hand began to consume him.

IC: Reliable Narrator | Coliseum The lights flickered out, this time the lightstones cracked and shattered inside their glass enclosures. The darkness remained. Waveahk’s eyes couldn’t get adjusted no matter how much he blinked. There was no tapping or hot breath this time. But he did feel something fall into his open hands. It felt cold. Like metal? But also sticky? It wriggled in his grasp. “W-ea-p-on” A sharp thud on the walls. The lights in the floor selection panel lit up again, but the overhead lights remained out. In the halo from the small lights on the wall, Waveahk watched the elevator slowly make its ascent again...

IC: Reliable Narrator | Coliseum As Waveahk breathed a sigh of relief in the elevator and wished aloud for a cup of water he felt a soft tapping on his shoulder. Spinning around he saw… nothing. The lights flickered in the elevator. Glancing down the free steltian saw he had several more floors to go on the button panel. A jarring thud bent the metal walls inward in a strange hand print. Then another. They were unique, shaped differently, clutching at the bottom of the elevator wall. It brought the elevator to a screeching halt and the lights flickered out. Smoke hissed through the air vents, making Waveahk cough. He felt something tap his shoulder. Hot breath poured down his back. A cup slipped into his hands. “Wa-t-er.” The lights flickered back on and the elevator music resumed as the floors began passing by again. Waveahk held a ceramic cup of sea water in his hands.

IC: Mazor-Ko-Metru Mazor turned to face Ostrox, giving him a stern look. "Yes, I need more time to work with the cube, I can't figure out what it does with you breathing down my neck."

OOC: Bear with me, gotta do some quick exposition to catch these two up in the timeline IC: Othorak, Ta-Metru Another projectile spun precariously towards Othorak's head. Sidra would not rest until he was dead for good, it seemed. He simply bowed down, letting it fly overhead, and when he rose back up, he let out another ghostly wail, though this time, an ominous cloud enveloped him. A monstrous smile crept across his broken face as he stared down the emerald assassin one final time... IC: Othorak, Colosseum Prison The prison cell was now feeling a bit cramped, with the terrorist titan joining his two undead brothers. "The mission..." Othorak grumbled. It was all he knew. He would not be stopped. Between the blasts of his allies, the wall's integrity had been damaged. Othroak waved his comrades back, it was his turn now. First, he pushed his chest out, and shot a powerful Rhotuka point-blank at the wall. Then, he slammed his palms against the impact site, and began to channel intense heat on the wall. "Make myself hot... melt the metal... crash the ship... the Masked Matoran...Stannis... cannot save the ship from crashing..." The problem with a shared consciousness is that the timeline fails to make sense, anymore, and Othorak no longer depended on a logical chain of events to explain his current actions. There was just the instinct in his soul, and his unwavering determination to accomplish it. With the metal walls glowing with heat, Othorak stepped back three paces (as much as allowed in the cramped space) and ran his shoulder full-force into the wall, crashing through the other side. He picked himself up as his two brothers emerged through the gap in the wall. "We are getting closer, brothers." @Nato the Traveler @Crimson Jester OOC: mood music for this entire Sans post https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-CKA1EHsro IC: Sans, Colosseum Sans ran panicked through the Colosseum hallways. Around one corner, then his path was closed off, so down another route, on and on, checking every room he could for danger or Dume. After several minutes, Sans could feel the sweat dripping down his Kanohi. His sweaty palms gripping his simple staff, ready to swing at anything that might attack him. He would never get the chance. Sand rounded one corner especially fast after he thought he heard some noise up ahead. He was correct about there being a commotion, but incorrect about how fast he needed to reach it. As he turned the corner, so too was a Vahki on all fours running his way, and the two collided. The Vahki merely stopped, but Sans went down, kinda hard, somewhere between dizzy and unconscious. The Vahki scanned him, then stood upright, and carried Sans in his arms. "This one is commanded to join his compatriots with Turaga Dume." The Vahki altered course, and carried the recovering Turaga off. After some time- though Sans couldn't say how much time- he reached Dume's office. He asked the Vahki to put him down, so he could recover quicker with more blood flowing through his legs, or something. Really he just didn't like be carried; Sans was more of a big-spoon kind of guy. After another minute, more of his old companions, as well as some new ones, reached him, and they all entered the office together. He wasn't quite clear in the head yet, so he held off on the jokes for the moment. Dume smiled sincerely when the two met, and both gave an approving nod that only Turaga could give one another. It was sort of a rare occurrence, two unrelated Turaga meeting. Toa collaborate all the time, and many of the islands of the universe share diverse populations, but Sans was unusual for how much he traveled as a Turaga. He always loved meeting fellow old timers. If the circumstances were different, Sans would love some time to relax with Dume and just reminisce about the journeys they've each taken. Sans rubbed his head as he filed himself more towards the back. He watched the interplay between Dume and the big one, he listened as the three unknown people in the office introduced themselves- fellow disk hunters- and he grew proud as his three icy companions made themselves known. He was even more proud as he witnessed them being blasted into Toa! He approached the Cartographer first. "Congratulations, now you're even funnier looking than me, huuhuhuhu!" Sans slapped the new Toa's knee as his own hilarity consumed him. He turned towards the Alpinist, slapped his knee, and joked, "Now that you're a Toa, you can use your elemental energy to aid you in your quest to not talk to anyone, huhuhuhu!" Some of the others in the room kind of smirked at the ridiculousness of this all. This was supposed to be one of the most significant moments in any Matoran's lives, as well as there being several Great Disks handed over to Turaga Dume at one time, and the city leader himself had just survived an assassination attempt that left his esoteric tattoos newly exposed, and here was a goofy blue Turaga cracking jokes! Any more jokes would have to wait, though, as Turaga Dume blasted the sickly Matoran, who began to evolve into a Toa herself. Sans took this moment to speak up. "Hey Dume, you think if you blasted me with that power it'd make my joints ache less? Huhuhuhuhu! No, really, though, thank you for your time with us. I'm glad we were all able to be here and able to protect you from the Dark Hunter's attack. There's been much evil spreading throughout the city. I want you to know that I will do whatever it takes to help you, whether that means remaining by your side to offer a second, yet similarly aged opinion to your own on current affairs, or perhaps you would ask me to lead these new Toa-heroes and guide them into their own Destinies, or, hopefully, you need a new taste tester to try all your fancy meals to make sure none of them are poisoned, huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu!" Sans genuinely listened for the red Turaga's reply, but it was through the sounds of his own laughter.

IC: The Cartographer - Dume's Office Immediately may have been too perfect a word to describe how quickly the events Dume put into motion would actually happen. Before the Cartographer even had a chance to breathe, Dume placed a hand on his chest, and his heartlight began to sear with the fire of a thousand suns. A split second later, the Cartographer was hurtling toward the wall. The room had suddenly shifted in the brief moment the Cartographer closed his eyes. He was no longer in Dume's office, and he couldn't even be sure he was in the same realm as his companions anymore. Looking around, the matoran tried to discern any sort of landmark, and was more than puzzled when he saw none. In fact, there was not a single discernible feature in this place whatsoever; an endless expanse of colorless, formless nothing -- a Void. Panicked, the Cartographer's heartlight began to pulse rapidly. He instinctively began to run, although it was impossible to tell what direction in this myriad of nothingness, running certainly felt better than standing still. He ran with all his might, and even then it seemed his feet would never carry him fast enough to escape this formless nightmare. Suddenly, the ground (if one could even call it that) began to shake with an infernal rumble, coming from both everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The shaking threw the Cartographer out of his run and onto the ground, his body now frozen in horror. Beyond the seemingly endless horizon, a million tendrils, blacker than any black one could describe, began to wind their oily shapes across the Void, toward the Cartographer. With great speed they approached, quickly betraying their form to the eyes of the Matoran. On recognizance, his eyes widened fearfully: this was the same formless Abomination that had haunted him in Ko-Metru. Before that thought could progress, the hands of darkness had begun to reach at his arm, now burning horrifically at the site of his scar. He wailed in agony, the sound of his screams lost in the nothingness. "KORRUHN," a thousand disembodied voices cried as the black tendrils began to drag him down into the pool of black tar that was rapidly forming at his feet. The voices repeated the name, again and again, both a whisper and a deafening roar. A tendril began to reach for the Cartographer's face, and he closed his eyes... "...are you alright?" Waif's voice seemed to suddenly fill the entirety of the Cartographer's head, and he realized he was no longer in his formless nightmare. Nor was he a Matoran. The Toa looked down, as shocked by his new appearance as anyone else in the room. Gone was his slight, white-and-ice blue Matoran body, and in it's place, a powerful, armored body of deep grey with highlights of his former livery. He felt an unyeilding energy and strength course through his body, and he was soon aware of his new mask as well. As he brought his hands to his face to feel his new mask, the Toa suddenly saw his right arm. His eyes widened again. Gone was the horrible scar from his encounter in the Ko-Metru Hideaway, and in it's place was an arm that seemed to be made of the Shadow itself. Angular, cold, with a foreign look to the armor design, the arm emitted a sickly shadow smoke. The Cartographer grimaced, and looked back to his concerned companions. "I -- I don't know." The Cartographer was lost for words. He knew that becoming a Toa was the ultimate destiny, that it was the key to saving himself, his homeland, and more importantly, his friends. But, had the Cartographer really become a Toa, or something else? OOC: Last post with the Cartographer as his name!

IC: Kalmah | Ta-Metru War is the natural order of life. Ask a pious toa to describe nature and they will talk of harmony and balance and a sort of energetic equilibrium that gives the sense the butterflies dance on the noses of the fikou spiders and the muaka becomes friends with the brakas monkey. The toa talks of plants being our natural food, of avoiding violence in killing sentient creatures. Then why does a tree happily grow from the toa's remains buried in the dirt after the muaka has its joy of the chase? We die because others want food or because they want sport. We live because we kill others for food or for sport. We fear each other because we know our base nature, but we can never truly know each other. Life and death are part of a violent messy ouroboros that does not know its own tail when it sees it. The other Barraki have delusions for why they deserve their status. They think in terms of grand plans, of lofty ideals, of territory held in their name. They are all fools. I am here because I want sport. I am here because my people need food. And I will take what I want because someday I will be consumed. When I swing the chains upon my back it is not to beg forgiveness, or because I derive sick pleasure. It is because I remind myself of the world's painful hunger. The world will always be there at your heels ready to tear into your back if you show it weakness. So I prepare my back, and I prepare my mind, and I take what I want and give where I see fit. And my people love me. Today I want fire.

IC: Rose and Triage - Chute to--ah, well, I think we're here Rose steeled herself as much as she could, then burst through the side of the chute riot shield-first, feeling weightless for a moment as she hovered over the desert. Triage and the soldiers joined behind, along with Skyra, and then... They all started falling. "THIS IS THE PART WHERE YOU SOFTEN OUR LANDING!" @Snelly

Oh hey I think I'll actually review a set I've picked up from this year... More picts on Instagram Okay, this is one of Ninjago's more substantial figs packs. 9 figs for $29.99? Not bad! Well, okay, the builds are bad, polybag level IMO. But the weapons and accessories more than make up for it. We've got katana in gold, silver, azure, pale green, red, and orange all in one set. And the new gamepad weapon hilts are super fun! Not to mention that pink sword that does fit loosely into an axle hole. And more of the Ninjago blades pack in trans green! This set is great for the figs and accessories, but mostly supplemental when it comes to actual sets. $30 for 218 pieces is a bit steep, after all, so this is really targeting minifig enthusiasts. (I'm one, so it still works out for me.) For the figs... you get four of the Ninjas. Jay is in his new Digi outfit, very cool looking with the blue and white and cyber face, but he shows up in a bunch of other sets. Cole and Nva get their generic Avatar forms here, which is cool because they didn't get the arcade pods like Jay, Kai, and Lloyd... of course, their torsos are common City ones so nothing too exciting. The highlight of this set is Pink Gi Zane; I guess it's supposed to be his avatar, but it's placement in the set makes it look more like a display, so who knows who he's supposed to be character wise. Still, it's a great callback to a one-shot fig from the early years of the TV show. (Second year but first season... the numbering of the TV seasons irks me.) The baddies here are Red Visor and Richie, both who appear in other sets but still come with the trans orange icons and such. Richie is interesting with his custom head and wields a game controller weapon too. Scott has a fancy pale blue outfit, and while Okino is in a very generic white robe, he comes with the new ponytail hair piece, which is fun because the ponytail includes a bar element that can be gripped. The final fig is the Harumi avatar; I first thought she was in a prisoner's uniform, but I guess it's actually more of a standard orange jumpsuit. Dunno if this is supposed to represent her returning to the series or just a depiction of her... haven't actually caught up on the last few seasons of Ninjago. There are three marketplace stands, which look even less interesting because I didn't apply stickers. One is a standard red / black arch, but I couldn't ruin the nice 6x6 teal tile with a sticker, so it stayed blank. Then you have the weapons market, which has a lot of the green blades attached to it. Some interesting connections, but still fairly simple. The "Item Market" is even more generic with basic bars making up a hat stand (and a place for pink Zane to stand). It's neat to get a lot of headgear to customize your figs, but display wise it's filler. I mean, not a whole lot to really say about this set. Great figs and accessories. Lousy builds. But I think for the price and number of figs, that's to be expected. I am interested in getting a couple more of the substantial Ninjago Prime Empire sets to see how they build out the theme.

Greetings, all! I recently decided to build the Toa Mata as LEGO BrickHeadz using LEGO Digital Designer (LDD), and then used Mecabrick's 3D-rendering software to create photo-realistic pictures of them. I've posted these as a project on LEGO Ideas, but I wanted to post them here as well for feedback. Thoughts?

IC: Stan | Taku "Knichou, there is no time," Stannis beckoned in a flat tone to get the matoran's attention. He seemed calm the way the eye of a typhoon was; that is to say, centered, serene, and surrounded by chaos. In truth, the old toa was angry and confused, afraid for the future of Metru Nui and civilization as a whole, and upset that he remained thus in the airship while the Six Kings were out of his reach even as they emerged in the City of Legends. He'd been afraid for some time now—he'd felt some great disturbance ever since they left Po-Metru's skies—but was unable to tell what was going to happen next despite his anxiety rocketing. The Wanderer stepped into the toa canister in the hold and turned to face the matoran for what he hoped would not be the last time. He looked at peace, but it was a lie. "Proceed with the plan. Send me down."

Congrats again to @Snelly for making a new page! Page 45's tease:

IC: Skyra - Po-Metru - Aww, she was worried about her! Skyra felt a bit giddy thinking about it, but she needed to tone it down a bit. Now was the time to get serious after. "Don't worry I'll be careful, but thanks for worrying~" Then without warning she gave Rose a kiss on the cheek, giving her a wink and flying off before the Toa of Fire had a chance to react. Skyra flew up into the air, high enough that she had a good view of the area and so she'd be more difficult to spot...hopefully. She flew forward, looking for any signs of the enemy. @Tarn@Unreliable Narrator

Ripping the sprites from this game is a tedious process, and I'm not planning on ripping anything I don't find interesting or notable, I'm sorry to say. If you want background assets, you could probably cobble something together from the Quest for the Toa maps on BS01. As far as sprites go, you could try Chimoru R or Rayg or something? You'd have to do some custom spriting if you didn't want to make a sidescroller, but it would give you a base to work from, at least. Anyway, speaking of interesting and notable sprites: here's the Brakas!

OOC: Sorry for the delay - you all know arrival and departure times aren't always 100% accurate IC: Knichou, Coliseum Airspace, Bridge of the Taku Knichou finished his work with the Nynrah tech while Kanohi forged the firing pin replica. Satisfied with his quick work, the engineer checked the Taku's instruments, then quickly walked over to the side room connected to the bridge where Kanohi was working. Kanohi had a hand on his head as if he was experiencing a headache, although Knichou didn't pay much thought to it. The ex-Ghost saw that the speed disk firing pin was complete - the final part needed to complete his upgrade of Kanohi's grappling gun. "Ready for the next step?" In Knichou's hands were two modified grappling guns, each missing its handle and trigger. One was made entirely of the chrome substance Knichou had been sculpting, the other was Kanohi's original grappling gun with some additions and reinforcements made out of the strange material. Not waiting for Kanohi to protest, Knichou slapped the mechanisms against Kanohi's wrists, and the liquid metal morphed to seal itself to Kanohi's upper forearms. Kanohi opened his mouth to say something but before the words could form, Knichou reached into his amorphous backpack to pull out a small chunk of the substance, pressing it against Kanohi's forehead and leaving the other Fe-Matoran momentarily speechless. The nanites stuck to Kanohi's Hau and washed downwards to form a transparent cover over the mask's eyeholes. Kanohi could see a basic heads up display showing information on the status of his grappling guns, with the information quickly disappearing when Kanohi thought that he didn't need such information. "Aaaaaand there we go. Now you just need to insert both firing pins and you're all set. Your mask now has an uplink to your grapple launchers - you'll only need to think about firing in order to do it. It may take a bit of getting used to, but soon it will feel as natural as moving any other part of your body. I would give you a more detailed breakdown, but I really need to get back to the helm since we're almost at the Coliseum." With that statement, Knichou quickly turned around and began rushing to the bridge, but not before stopping to say one more thing he forgot. "Oh, and you may want to practice these a bit before you go climbing the outside of the Coliseum, just in case a part needs a revision." With that, Knichou left Kanohi to his experimentation, and sat back in the captain's chair at the front of the bridge. Anyone looking through a window or porthole below them would see a massive Metru-Nuian army deploying to each district - a sign that the war had finally found it's way to the last free Matoran city. Knichou didn't look below anymore, he couldn't allow himself to be distracted from the mission. No chance to let himself devolve to cowardice or regrets. Not this time. The Fe-Matoran picked up the radio transmitter and began broadcasting over Vahki frequencies as the Taku floated ever closer to the coliseum. The ship was high up - several dozens of meters above the height of the Coliseum itself. "This is Knichou of the airship Taku, requesting permission to land on top of the Coliseum. My crew is in possession of two Great Disks, over." After he released the button to broadcast, Knichou swiveled his chair around at the various beings now assembled on the bridge. "Well, that should get their attention," he quipped.

You thought it was Kanohi, but it was I - Dece!

Congrats on the newly minted Toa, disc collectors!

GM IC: Demolitions Team - Black Spike Mountains. "Indeed, but so far we haven't found any signs of life."

GM IC: Demolitions Team - Black Spike Mountains. The Skrall lowered his weapon, sighing heavily, "So it's true," he sounded legitimately distraught, a tone that was all the more disconcerting coming from a Skrall, "There's a map, that keeps being placed on our noticeboard. 'Iron Never Dies', and a marker pointing somewhere out here." He gestured to the rest of his group. "We needed to know if it was true."

IC: Fa'amatai, the Untethered Although the former Fa'amatai lacked a head, his shoulders were constantly moving, as though his missing head was scanning his environment intensely. Though he lacked physical eyes, the burning, intense gaze could still be felt around the room. Fa'amatai's heartlight glowed with a sickly, radioactive green hue that pulsated to a sickening rhythm. As he stepped through the remains of the cell wall, he turned to his two compatriots. "He is here." A disturbing voice, disembodied and seemingly coming from all directions at once, attacked the ears of his brethren. Fa'amatai's voice was quiet, and yet booming, calm, but somehow imbibed with a pain and anger no mortal could begin to comprehend. "We His emissary, commit our bodies to His service." OOC: @Azibo @Nato the Traveler let's Kaita. Feel free to bunny Fa if needed!

IC: Sidra - Ta-Metru, en-route to Coliseum For several long moments, Sidra just stared at the spot where her impossible opponent had been standing. For several moments more, she wondered if the whole encounter had been some kind of horrifying hallucination, before a quick check of her nektann's footage revealed that was most definitely not the case. She summoned the drones back to herself and teleported to a new vantage point, further from the crash site, to consult her iStone. The situation in the city had escalated considerably since her encounter with the undead had begun, it seemed. Dume had called in his collection on the Great Disks, and now the League had reached Metru Nui. The bounties for the Dark Hunters were for two Turaga, and something in the possession of the Barraki Pridak... all of them most likely already at the Coliseum, or on their way. She was in no fit state to fight a war, but orders were orders... she couldn't sit this out... could she? No, she couldn't. Her mask's eyepiece zoomed in on a nearby chute station, identifying a suitable patch of shade near the entrance, which she promptly teleported to. She boarded a chute heading in the direction of the Coliseum, but she sent one of her nektann into a chute moving towards Ga-Metru. If reports of the Barraki's movements were true, then there was something there she wanted to keep an eye on... ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ IC: Vyarik/Revenant - Coliseum Cells The unearthly screeches of the the collected Untethered faded as they looked upon one another, free from the confines of the cell that had contained the one that had summoned them. The one that had once been Vyarik reached out with magnetism, summoning its weapons back from wherever they had been stored by the guards. Once armed, it turned and set off deeper into the Coliseum, following the call of the Dead God. OOC: @Crimson Jester @Azibo - do you guys want to try combining into a kaita? @Unreliable Narrator - where to from here for the Revenants?

OOC: wall of text below, permission give by @Silvan Havento make the trade, and from @Unreliable Narratorfor the plot point. also sorry for the text being weird, copied this from a word doc and it went weird. IC Kanohi - the Taku The Fe-Matoran nodded as he handed over his disk and took the speed disk in his hands. He bowed, hands wringing as he descended into the room Knichou described. He pulled out the torch he had used to mend the hull, and stared at it. It … it should work. Right? Kanohi swallowed, looking down at the speed disk, and the tool in his opposite hand. He … he had done some good things recently, fixed the statue, mended the hull, fixed that levitation engines, and the latter used disks. He … he could do this. Just … just move slowly, carefully. But not too slow. Just slow enough. He felt his hands tremble, no this … this is what caused him to break so many masks. He … he used to be able to make simple masks, but the fear, the anxiety, his hands couldn’t be steady, his mind became overwhelmed, and inevitable the disks snapped apart. But he … he couldn’t break this disk, too much was at stake. The Fe-Matoran rubbed his head, okay, think. Think back to Okoto and Turaga Bomahri’s wisdom. Small tasks, easily manga or tasks. But this task was simple, it would be simple for anyone, anyone but him at least. His anxiety was all consuming, where was it coming from? He had done good, fixing the hull… He was moving when he mended the hull, grappling around it. And … and at the ti,e he just been stressed by the Taku Team and the newcomers possibly fighting, and then when he went to work polishing off the hull he felt better. It was a simple manageable task, but could the movement have helped? And at the end of patrol after a stressful day, he tended to feel better? All living things needed fuel to live, could his anxiety be the same? If he tired, and kept focusing on small reachable goals… He paced around the room for a time, his fingers drummed against the air, listening to the flatter of his metal feet and jingling armor. The sounds reminded him of the wind blowing through Fe-Koro’s chimes, a reminder to take shelter from the winds that whipped around the village. The winds weren’t as common in Bo-Wahi, the trees broke up the air currents. Sometimes the metal huts began to erode, but Toa Fehagah always managed to mend them, she knew how to grow the iron walls like a thicket, weaving them together with little metal flowers blooming. She spent plenty of time exploring Bo-Wahi, trained under Bomahri when he was still a Toa. His mind was wandering. Kanohi sat down, and began to work. Sparks danced from his welding torch like spores in Bo-Wahi, twirling on the wind. His hands moved with his thoughts distracted, moving on some old instinct. A mediocre instinct, one with little skill, but skill enough. It was skill enough. Right? He … he wasn’t utterly useless, focus on his achievements. He … he fixed a statue, that anyone could have fixed with a regeneration disk. But he fixed the hull, as poorly and sloppily as possible, shaming the Nynrah Ghost. B-but the engine, he only fixed one. His hands trembled at his racing thoughts, his heartlight flickering. Just … just work slow. Steady, steady, simple tasks. And then finally Kanohi collapsed, panting, his metabolism like a bioquake. But in his hand he clutched the finished firing pin. He lay there for a time, hyperventilating, exhausted. Still he … he had finished it. And he could keep trying these techniques, small tasks, draining his anxious energy, and he … he had been distracted by wandering thoughts. Maybe he could use that in the future, listen to music, or a recording of a speech of Stannis. Something like that. He bowed his head and thanked Mata-Nui for helping steady his hands, before shakily stumbling out, handing the firing pin to Knichou. And then Kanohi’s mind exploded. Not with the violent shockwave and force of a Toa of Fire going Nova, but like a dam had ruptured and now a tidal wave was slamming into a small Koro. Like Fe-Koro. He clutched his head, his eyes shut tight enough to shatter. The world vanished for Kanohi, shards of glass erupting from his eyes. He stumbled backwards, to see the shards of glass drifting in the void. As if a playful Garai user was making them dance. He stared and the shards bumbled and struck each other, with each collision green sparks striking between them. Until before his eyes the image had merged into a small chain of islands on the ocean. Kanohi … his hands moved on its own, reaching out towards the island. As his hands extended the image rippled, like the fumes of the Great Furnace. Before Kanohi’s gaze he could see waves slamming into the islands, small huts pounded by the ocean. The water drew higher and higher, smothering the shanty-towns on the coast as a dying flame. The Fe-Matoran felt his heartlight beat as a lighthouse, and his hands shot out, trying to push away the waves, shove the water aside. But the water slipped through his fingers, forcing his hands open. His optics shook in horror, he kept trying, but water was beyond him. He could only look as a marble of water spread across the islands like an infected mask, until the last town was pulverized into powder. As that town was shredded a solitary crimson flag was uprooted from the force, and slammed straight into his eyes, coiling around his head. Kanohi clawed at his face, struggling to get the banner off— And then the flag was gone. The islands were gone. The town were gone. And Kanohi was back in Metru-Nui, his eyes unmanaged but trembling, and his fingers clutching at his head like a Po-Matoran hanging off a a tree branch, lost in an environment not his own.

IC: Waif - Coliseum The enrobed matoran looked her newly empowered friend over with concern, especially so the shadowy arm he now so suddenly possessed in his new form. Looking upon it she almost felt sick, more than she already was. Whatever it was, that arm felt wrong to her on every level. She was about to say something about it when she heard Dume call upon her next, her compatriot the Alpinist now too having been bestowed the power... The power she was now to receive? But not only that, there was something else the Turaga had said "W-wash away? This... this will do that?" Cautiously, yet almost as if in a trance, The Waif approached a destiny she'd never once dared imagine would be hers.

GM IC: Demolitions Team - Black Spike Mountains. An assortment of shooty things were soon angled upwards as the aircraft descended towards the group. By the time the group of explorers were close enough to land and begin their approach, they could already discern exactly who the group were: Skrall, their armour bearing the sigil of New Atero. "You have it," one of the Skrall, evidently the leader, stepped forward, leveling a thornax launcher at Tekmo, "What do you want?"

Oryn approved.

Sorry for the late reply, just read your post a minute ago. I definately like the idea of running a TTRPG campaign with BZP users, but I am not sure Roll20 is our best option. As far as I can tell, they do not allow games to be played with fanmade campaigns. Also, I am not sure how I feel about asking other players to reveal themselves using sound and video. As far as the system itself goes, I think there are a lot of things RSG does well in regards to stating certain enemies, establishing a wealth and inventory system and so on. However, I was under the impression that only toa were playable in the current version. I suppose you could write up your own rules based on NPC makuta stats, but, as you said yourself, balance would be a huge issue. If you were going to have all or mostly non-toa PC's I would suggest using the rahkshii instead. They are at a similar power level to toa, and encourage more specialization on the part of the players. They would still be pretty high-powered compared to most of the city, but I think your idea of a heavily-defended Metru Nui is a good one. You could have vahki, well-trained rahi and well-armed matoran as low-level enemies, and powerful veteran toa, Dark Hunters or other rahkshii as stronger enemies.

IC: Sans, Dume's Office "I wouldn't worry, Cart.... I mean, Korruhn. Bad guys don't usually have a sense of humor, yet you've been cracking up at my valued remarks from Le-Metru to this office, huhuhuhu." Though joking, Sans understood the concern. The newcomer Toa was correct, and Sans had once even fought a Shadow Toa. He wouldn't be here if he had lost, obviously, but it's one of those encounters you never forget. In his experience, Sans found that Shadow was an element on par with Psionics as far as how one needed to defeat it mentally more so than with brute strength or clever tactics. A strong soul could never falter to shadow and despair. And form his travels with the three Matoran, Sans knew they all had strong souls. " what the karz do we do now?" "Well, I for one need to sit. Old bones, you know how it is, Turaga Dume." Sans winked at the old man, who was still busy with the others and possibly not even really listening to Sans, and walked forward, helping himself to one of the comfortable chairs situated in front of Turaga Dume's desk. Getting comfortable and slouching back in the seat were both one and the same, now.

IC [Zataka, Coliseum - Dume’s Office]: Zataka’s stare was intense enough to drill holes through protosteel. That explanation was...hardly satisfying. And she doubted it. But the cartographer’s gasp - well, no longer the cartographer - drew her attention. She shot Dume a look of we’ll talk more about this, then turned to the newborn Toa. She held out her hand to him, indicating his arm. “Let me have a look at that.”

IC: Turaga Dume | Coliseum Office “An old friend,” Dume said with a half-smile keeping his focus on the Alpinist as Zataka interjected. “There are many strange powers in this world, and this stone is one of them. I’ve poured my energies into it for a very long time. Hopefully I have enough stored for all our new heroes.” As the Alpinist stepped forward his face revealing the worry he held Turaga Dume waited until his matoran feet brought him fully to his destiny. Then, like the Cartographer, he placed his hand on the Alpinist’s heartlight and shouted the stored power into the ko-matoran. With a burst of force the Alpinist skidded back, but not as far or as violently as the first now that Dume knew how much strength he needed. The transformation occurred in an instant. One moment the Alpinist was standing trying to put on a brave face and the next he was kneeling with a great mask adorning his face. Turaga Dume turned to the Waif and smiled softly. He knew why she kept herself bandaged, never having seen the disease in person but having read of it occurring. “Come here,” He encouraged kindly. “Let me wash that away.” OOC: @EmperorWhenua go make a new character sheet

Name: Korruhn, Voidknight Species: Toa Faction: Metru Nui Brief Description: Since his ascent to Toahood, Korruhn has retained little of his former appearance as a Ko-Matoran. Well-built on a sleek, solid frame, Korruhn bears armor of a deep, smoky grey imbued with brilliant white and ice blue highlights throughout. The armor has an appearance of master craftsmanship, offering both protection from heavy combat and the maneuverability of a stealth suit. His Kanohi is shaped not unlike that of a knight, sharp and angular with only a pair of holes for his icy blue eyes to burn from beneath, and Korruhn will sometimes cover this with the hood on his black half-cloak with white stitching and strange small runes, that he's never seen without. Through a horrible encounter with an unknown creature in Ko-Metru, Korruhn's right arm has been imbued with the power of shadow. As a result, his right arm appears much darker, the armor slightly more angular, and the arm seems to constantly give off a sort of shadowy smoke, although faint. Equipment: Korruhn carries several weapons for use in a variety of situations, including a small dagger worn on his right calf, an ornate, otherworldly-looking black khopesh with ice blue highlights, as well as his Kanoka launcher. Background/Occupation: Enhanced by Turaga Dume and the Toa Stone, the Cartographer has become a fearsome Toa. Going by the name of Korruhn, he now turns his attention from hunting Great Discs to destroying threats to his island. Flaws: Suffers from a mild, but increasing case of Void sickness, resulting in clouded thoughts, distraction, inability to discern reality, and worse symptoms to come Powers: As a Toa, Korruhn is a master over elemental Gravity, using it to his advantage in both combat and non-combat situations. As well as elemental gravity, Korruhn has been imbued with the power of Shadow, granting him abilities from beyond the Void (placeholder until UN and I solidify what powers exactly). Korruhn's Kanohi bears the power of a Calix, which, when combined with his elemental Gravity, allows him to perform near-impossible physical feats with ease.

I have to second Kek's opinions. If you ask me, G2 belongs as far away from G1 as it does from HF. (Which, just to be clear, is far.)

I wasn’t going to post this one yet, but since the world is in quarantine I felt like I might as well share a story so folks have something to read. This story was inspired by … kind of a canon alternate universe, but not really. I was hit with inspiration by the vision Jaller experiences in Bionicle Legends: Dark Destiny, the world where he did not sacrifice himself for Takua. Makuta over, the Matoran enslaved, one thousand years later the Turaga are killed in an attempted assassination, and Jaller and Hahli are broken servants of the Makuta. Dark times. Now that vision … doesn’t exactly gel with the canon. I’m not sure Makuta would wait over a thousand years ruling the isle of Mata-Nui, or kill the Toa Nuva, not when he would know that Mata-Nui would die soon after MoL. Karzahni visions aren’t always accurate, so I’m not surprised it may have some continuity issues. So I used that vision as the basis for this story, but made some adjustments and changes as I plotted it. I have other ideas for this AU, Versions of the Toa Inika, someone using the Vahki with the willpower to use its full power, what really happened to the Toa Nuva, just rough ideas I haven’t really polished yet. Maybe they will appear as either an epic or a few short stories, not sure which, but leaning towards the latter. Also this story features my OC Kanohi, because I like him, though Macku has a bigger role in the story. Anyway without further ado, here is the Company of Cowards. … There was no dawn through this storm, the black clouds reigned above as they hurled their weapons down like a swarm of hornets. The rain was a barrage of arrows, thunder was the battering ram, and lightning had all the force of a ballista. Nature itself was tearing at the makeshift raft, striving to destroy it in an unnatural fury. The boat was made of everything they could find, parts were scavenged from the huts of Ga-Koro, others from their boats, others from trees of Le-Wahi, even the six Toa Canisters were used to build the craft. It was held-together more through prayer than the vines and ropes that lashed around it. Seaweed was plastered across its sides, until it looked more like a particularly large clump of algae than a ship. Shivering in the storm were thirty seven Matoran, all hiding underneath tarps of seaweed. Their metal frames were blasted with saltwater, only the Ga-Matoran and Ko-Matoran braced the weather with any real resistance, all the others struggled each to stay conscious, their heartlights faint. Only their heartlights and eyes glowed, no other light was lit in this ship as it plunged through darkness, Most of them were rowing, others adjusted the crude rudders to steer through the endless ocean that encompassed their world. And a few Matoran peered out through gaps in the seaweed canopy with spyglasses, daring to pry into the skies about. “Rahkshi,” a faint voice managed, pointing to the port side of the boat. Macku held up her finger for silence, before squeezing under the canvas of kelp to stand besides him. The Ga-Matoran held out her spyglass in the direction that he pointed, even as she unholstered a throwing disk from her back. Up through the lens of her telescope, Macku could see three reptilian shapes streaking through the sky. Each had sharp spines jetting out of their hunched-back, and their heads were all but serpentine. Each held a double-sided staff in their claws, which they swung and gestured with periodically. Their armor was a vibrant gold, almost mocking the memory of the Avohkii. She tensed up as the thought of that Mask, she had only seen it once, seven years ago. During the last Kolhii Match, when it fell out of the Chronicler’s bag, illuminating Jaller with light. Turaga Nokama had translated it, revealing it was the Mask of Light, heralding the arrival of a seventh Toa. But a seventh Toa never appeared, and the island of Mata-Nui was enslaved by the Makuta. And now she and all the other Matoran who could were fleeing their homes, abandoning their sisters and brothers to their horrible fate. Cowards. Just like Jaller. The Ga-Matoran swallowed, holstering her disk. “Spread the word to keep quiet, Tamaru,” she urged the Le-Matoran, and he nodded. They might be cowards, but there was no way they could win a fight with three Rahkshi. They were just … Matoran. Macku pressed her way back through the bowels of the ship, crouching low to not disturb the vessel’s disguise. Finally she squeezed over to Hewkii, Hafu, and Kanohi. The first two brandished a throwing disk in one hand and a Kolhii staff in the other, standing guard. Kanohi meanwhile was huddled low to the ground, staring deeply into his lighter. He was covered in wooden masks carved in the shape of Ruru, using them for armor. Besides him were three objects, the first was Turaga Whenua’s Drill Staff, the second was a Volo Lutu Launcher; last of its kind. And then besides the Turaga’s Badge of Office was something wrapped tightly in canvas and cushioned atop a pillow. Most Matoran did not know what it was, but Macku knew all too well what lay underneath it. “Three Rahkshi are on the port side,” Macku whispered, “I don’t think they have spotted us yet, but I’ve told Tamaru to pass the word to keep quiet.” “Karzahni,” sighed Hewkii, “we are tens of miles away from Mata-Nui, how did they find us?” “The Makuta’s reach is great,” answered Kanohi, “but he has not found us yet. All he knows is where we might be headed.” “And this other land, there are Matoran there?” “Many Matoran, though their bodies are weak, like ours used to be. I think between me and Nuparu we could upgraded their bodies too.” “And are there Toa? Not false Toa like Vezok and Zaktan, real Toa. Heroes.” “There … may be Toa, I see two strange beings, titanic in size, both wearing masks and brandishing powerful weapons. One is stout with armor of red and silver, the other is lean and is plated in gold and silver. I fear they are at odds however.” “Are they strong enough to challenge the Makuta?” Macku interrupted. “My visions are rarely easy to understand,” answered Kanohi, “I understand your frustration. To be blindsided by this tragedy, it is … humbling.” “To say the least,” muttered Macku. “Well, it’s not all hopeless, Macku,” Hewkii huffed and forced a grin, “we’ve smuggled some of our brothers and sisters to safety.” “Yes, until the Makuta decides to track us down,” she shook her head, before her face reddened and she added, “still, you’re right, we’ll probably have the Makuta dead in days and soon enough we’ll be after the seventh Toa again. She contorted her face into a smile beneath her mask. “Macku, you don’t need to hide your fears with me,” Hewkii said quietly, before cracking a more genuine grin, “and it looks like the effort is hurting you.” “True enough,” she shook her head, her smile not quite as forced now. “Excuse me,” a slow voice said. Macku turned to see Kapura, his crimson body covered in a thick cloak. The Ta-Matoran spoke like the slow approach of a glacier, even as his body trembled from the frigid cold, “the Rahkshi have diverted course … to the west.” “Then have they missed us then?” Hafu blurted out with a grin as big as the ocean. “…I think so,” answered Kanohi as he stared into the fire, “keep everyone quiet for now, but I think they are heading elsewhere.” “You are sure?” “Give me a moment to focus,” he said, gazing into the flames, “it’s not easy to steer my power enough to see what I want to know. Kapura, Macku; thank you for your messages.” “It’s the least we can do,” Macku sighed, sitting down, “I should return to my watch, keep an eye on the Rahkshi.” “What color were they?” Kanohi asked suddenly. “Golden, like the Avohkii.” “Before the Toa Nuva were overwhelmed, Turaga Vakama confided in me the types of Rahkshi. I believe the three of them would be Rahkshi of Weather Control, this storm is their work.” “They can even twist nature against us.” “Yes. Oh, sorry, I was thinking out loud. I … I can see nothing, but I will stick to my fire. For the meantime, watch the storm, and be careful leaving the ship. Macku, have your Ga-Matoran forage seaweed when they can, I’ll drill a hole in the ship to dive from.” Macku nodded, “I will pass it alone.” “And I will pass along your orders,” Kapura interrupted. Macku turned to look at him, but he had already vanished into the recesses of the ship. … Kanohi could see Vakama screaming, the Turaga being blasted by the power of fear. The manifestation of raw terror smothered him, as a voice snarled. “The Mask. Where did your pupil hide the Mask?” The waves of gaseous fear blotted out the stars, snuffing them out as Kanohi stumbled in the dark. And then he felt water splash into his face. He looked down to see a Ga-Matoran flailing in the rocky ocean below him, her leg engulfed by a Takea, the shark dragging her down— “Kanohi?” The autistic Matoran lurched away from his lighter, spinning to his feet and thrusting Whenua’s Drill Staff behind him. His optics darted around as the drill whirled. No one was there. And then he spotted Kapura, standing besides him. “You had a vision.” “Yes,” Kanohi admitted, “a Ga-Matoran drowning, a Takea attacking her. I couldn’t tell who she was, it was hard to see.” The starlight outside was all but extinguished, the only light came from the blasts of lightning striking the ocean.” “It may be happening.” “Karzahni. Who?” “Macku has not returned, Hewkii is considering diving after her.” Kanohi nodded, handing over the Drill Staff. “If you have to, shatter it.” “Yes.” Kanohi crouched and made his way through the ship, his Volo Lutu Launcher already back in his hands. It was meant for the jungles of Le-Wahi, but he had made it waterproof, at least as best he could. There, peering over the hole was Hewkii, his hands squeezing his spear until it nearly snapped in half. The hole had been drill in only a few hours ago, the rim bent upward as water splashed inside the boat. Seaweed lay stacked in mounds in this chamber, sloppy and wet. “Move,” said Kanohi, as he pulled out a bundle from his pack. “Please, just … bring her back.” Kanohi nodded and dived in, sinking into the water. With a whip of the cloth he uncovered the Lightstone, illuminating the darkness of the stormy sea. Clutching it in one hand he swam through the gloom, searching for any traces. He was no Ga-Matoran, he couldn’t hold his breath for long. He would have to hurry. … Macku moved her hands towards the object, formerly lost to the waves. It … it looked like a curved blade, a similar shade of silver to the Toa Nuva’s weapons. But it was small, seemingly built for a Matoran’s use than a Toa or a Turaga. As she touched it it radiated light, and a mild shock of electricity zapped her hand. She recoiled, her hand sore, what … what kind of Matoran tool has that kind of power? This could be useful. She grabbed the seaweed from her pack, and wrapped some of it around her hand. She reached over, grasping the tool, it singed the plant fibers but they held. Strange, was it damaged by the erosion of the sea? How long had it been here? As she held the blade in front of her, through its sparks she spotted something swimming through the gloom. She immediately kicked off the rocky patch and swam away, heading back towards the ship. The water curved behind her, something huge was getting closer, shoving aside the ocean like blades of grass. Macku swallowed and turned around, just in time for her blade to illuminate a Takea’s jaws, the teeth glinting from the electricity. She stared in horror just … not responding, as the Takea chomped down on her leg. Somehow she was numb to it, the teeth pierced her leg and she felt nothing. She just stared there. Then suddenly the water rippled, and a Matoran slammed into the Takea. The shark released her, and she drifted through the water, bubbles popping out from under her mask, her eyes motionless. … Kanohi wasn’t sure if Macku was already dead, but he couldn’t dwell on that much, ramming into the shark had staggered him, he had almost released his breath. He swerved in the water and fired a sphere of gravity besides Macku, and with a flurry of bubbles he flew besides her. Her heartlight was still lit, she was still alive. He grabbed her hand and squeezed, trying to help her store, and she almost strangled his fingers. He flinched, before feeling the ocean bend behind him. With a twist of his wrist he fired his Volo Lutu Launcher again, and grappled out of the Takea’s jaws with Macku hanging behind him. He winced at the strain dragging her weight behind him, but he held on. He was … he was different, he could endure it. Kanohi fired his Volo Lutu Launcher over and over, grappling across the ocean floor. Up ahead he could see the hole in the ship, they were almost there. He could feel his head burn from lack of air, not literally but metaphorically. He … he did not have much longer to make it through the water. Then with a rip Macku slipped out of his hands, throwing him off course. He sailed past the hole, struggling to right himself. He … he needed to get her. Finally he hooked something and went flying, before flying up back into the ship. He panted as fresh air filled his lungs, his hands trembling. He swallowed, Hewkii was shouting at him, but his words were utterly unintelligible. “Going back,” Kanohi managed to say, before diving back underwater. He grappled down to the seabed, before using the Lightstone to search for Macku. Through the gloom he spied a flickering light, she was standing up shaking, some tool in her hand flashing while the Takea swam around towards her. He grappled at her, hand outstretched. … Macku stared up at the shark, it’s jaws were nothing like a Rahkshi, but in its rage and aggression, she could see a resemblance. She blankly looked at it, her hand trembling. She used to be in the Chronicler’s Company, she was a great Matoran, she broke the blockade to get help when Ga-Kori was overrun. She defended the Toa themselves when they descended into Kini-Nui. She was … she used to be strong. But now … she felt like a Turahk was blasting her with raw fear, until her servos and joints couldn’t move. No matter how much she wanted to. The Takea barreled down on her, before Kanohi slammed into it again. He knocked the shark off course, missing her and smacking into rock. Macku stared as the shark shook itself off before swimming away from her, now pursuing the Po-Matoran. Macku’s optics followed after Kanohi, his Lightstone illuminating his movements. He grappled again and again across the jagged seabed, the shark gaining on him, its jaws opening up to engulf him. The Ga-Matoran she … she couldn’t let him get eaten. He was a hero. He had protected Mata-Nui long before the Toa landed on their shores, rescued Matoran from dangerous beasts. She … she couldn’t let him die. The Matoran would need him. Look at her. Weak, cowardly. She belonged in Karzahni, with the rest of the failures. Then suddenly she felt a hand grasp hers, and a familiar Mask of Speed greeted her. Hewkii. She hung to his hand tight, and he squeezed back equally hard. His hand seemed to speak in her hand, not with words but with feeling. You are not alone. She felt her heartlight tremble as she stumbled upright, getting a mild shock from her blade, as a Hewkii grasped her hand too. Then with a shove they swam at the Takea, Macku took the lead, she was a better swimmer after all. With a thrust she slammed the electric blade into the shark, and sparks ignited the ocean like a thousand heartlights. The shark gurgled out bubbles, and then with a powerful swish of its tail it turned and swam away into the ocean. Macku released the blade, which Hewkii caught. Trembling she grabbed Kanohi’s Volo Lutu Launchet of his hand, he barely fought her, woozy. She grabbed his hand and Hewkii grabbed his other, but not before pocketing his Lightstone. With a squeeze of the trigger she hooked the hole of the ship, and the three of them grappled into the watercraft. With strain Hewkii threw first Macku, then Kanohi inside the ship, before climbing inside the crude vessel himself. The three of them laid there panting, heaving as a few Matoran looked over them. Finally Hewkii stumbled upright with his spear for balance, and began to speak. Not that Macku could hear his words, she was numb to the world around her. She lay there limp and exhausted, before a Hewkii crouched besides her. He spoke to her and she stared up at him, unable to process his language. A Ga-Matoran bent over her, looking at her leg with a shaking head. “What’s wrong?” asked Macku, though she couldn’t hear her voice. What could be wrong with her leg, she couldn’t even feel it? … Macku slammed her makeshift crutches down, swinging her body around on her good leg. She lumbered through the gloom, with a Hewkii following her, his arms outstretched. “I can handle this much,” she said shakily. “I know. But you don’t have to, alone at least.” She sighed, “I know. Thank you.” “Hey, you Ga-Matoran value Unity most of the Three Virtues, if anything I learned it from you.” “Po-Matoran treasure Unity highly too.” You just treasure Duty more than I ever could. The two of them made their way to Kanohi, who was sitting down, Drill Staff at the ready. At his feet was the electro-blade, partly dissected. “Any luck understanding this weapon yet?” “Not really, the technology behind it is incredible, beyond anything on Mata-Nui, save the Bohrok and Boxers. Nuparu has made progress though. It must be from Voya-Nui. I … in my visions of the island I have seen Matoran with strange but powerful weapons, it must be one of theirs.” “Then we are close?” “Maybe. More importantly, the storm is dwindling, and I have had another vision. The Rahkshi have stopped searching these waters, for the moment at least?” “Really? What … what did you see?” Macku briefly couldn’t see the glow of her heartlight, too stunned for it to flicker. “From what I could understand they spotted a drifting patch of seaweed with Takea feasting on fish inside. I think they believed we perished and that was the wreckage of our craft. Again, we should lay low for a time, avoid fishing or repairing the hull, but I think we might have escaped.” Hewkii practically tackled Macku in relief, and she embraced him too, the two Matoran squeezing each other in a whirl of clinking armor. Their bodies almost seemed to intertwine with each other. Then finally they pulled back with a nod, and Macku said, “I should resume searching the skies, this time keep watch over him, alright?” “Of course,” nodded Hewkii, saluting her, and slamming his throwing disk into his forehead in the process. She laughed as he winced from the blow, and he blushed too. “I will go to Tamaru,” Kapura added slowly, “inform him of your vision.” Macku startled at his voice, she hadn’t even known he was there. “Of course—” Kanohi began to say, but Kapura was already gone. Macku shook her head at her fellow’s strange speed, before ducking under a beam and squeezing back through the dank ship. Her metal feet splashed against the floorboard drenched in saltwater and slime, puddles sloshing back and forth as the craft swayed from the dissipating storm. … By the fifth week of travel the Matoran had voted and had decided to name their ship the Voya-Suva; the Voyage Shrine. It seemed fitting, as they carried the prayers of the Matoran with them on this long journey, and Kanohi had had a prophecy claiming the island they sought to be named Voya-Nui. “What do you think?” asked Hewkii as Macku surfaced. She carried a net in her hands, full of seaweed to be ripped up into fibers. Hewkii held a net too, hauling in fish for the Matoran to eat. Turaga Vakama had empowered Kanohi’s lighter with some of his elemental power, easily enough to cook the fish the Matoran caught on their journey. “About what?” She asked. Her crutches lay besides Hewkii, her leg had ultimately needed to be amputated, and they did not have access to the tools to make a prosthetic. Still, she could still swim fairly well, and her lungs were still stronger than other Matoran “The latest vision Kanohi shared with us. That the Makuta may not only have cast the Great Spirit into a deep sleep, but that the Great Spirit might be dying.” She looked away, “I’m trying not to think about it. The last few days have been so tranquil, it’s best we do not dwell on a prophecy that is so … distant.” “Yeah, I guess we need to keep our senses sharp,” Hewkii agreed, “The last thing we need is to be gloomy on a day like this.” The two Matoran stole a glance at the sky. It was a bright blue, but worse it was clear. If a Rahkshi flew overhead, it would not be hard to spy their boat, and to discover its true nature. But for now, no Rahkshi could be seen. “Besides, Kanohi said so himself that his prophecies are not easy to understand, it might have been a metaphor for the Matoran being … beaten.” “Yeah, might be just them losing faith in the Great Spirit.” They both fell silent, Macku awkwardly treading water. Neither Matoran brought up the simple truth. Even if the Great Spirit was genuinely dying, or worse, if he already had, there was nothing they could do. The Makuta’s reach was as endless as the ocean, Mata-Nui belonged to him, his Rahkshi, and the false Toa who enforced order in the six villages. “…Do you think Hahli is alright?” “You want the truth?” “No, I already know it.” Then came a thunderous sound, and both of Matoran flinched, drawing their throwing disks at the rumbling. Their heartlights flashed violently, as they stood there watching. Finally they heard a Matoran shout in the distance, “Razor Whale scraping against the ship,” and the pair of them slowly stowed away their disks. But their heartlights continued to pulse. “…Hahli.” “She continues to resist to her dying breath, leading a guerrilla battle against the Makuta, using Volo Lutu Launchers to slip past the Rahkshi and throwing disks to shatter the false Toa’s masks.” “Lie better,” muttered Macku, “the false Toa don’t wear masks.” “I know. But there is not much any Matoran can do against those strange beings. Even if the Toa Nuva had still been alive when the Makuta first unleashed those Piraka, there is not much even the Toa could have done against them.” “Heh, here we are, we want to ignore those problems, and we are obsessing over them. Guess my cowardice is all consuming.” “You are not a coward.” “What do you call a Ga-Matoran who abandoned her sister to be ruled by a monster?” “So did all of us. We are leaving to get help.” “But are any of us coming back to Mata-Nui afterwards? No, we all will hide in our new refuge like good little Matoran, hoping these two Titans can fight our battles.” “…” “Some Chronicler’s Company we are. Our Chronicler dies and the six of us flee our island, not only forsaking our brothers and sisters but his own memory.” “I know … your guilt,” Kapura interrupted, coming up from behind them. Macku nodded towards him, hauling her catch onto the deck. As it slapped onto the deck Kapura started to speak again, but by then Macku had already dived back underwater. She was tethered to the Voya-Suva by a cord woven of seaweed fibers, to prevent her from drifting away. The Ga-Matoran had been in the Chronicler’s Company alongside Tamaru, Hafu, Kapura, Kopeke, and Taipu. They had worked with the Chronicler to help the Toa, famously defending the entrance to Kini-Nui so the Toa would not be ambushed. Oh if only the Toa had actually defeated the Makuta then. Shortly after Macku resurfaced, with another net of seaweed behind her. As she climbed up Kapura began to speak, but Hewkii spoke first. “Kapura says that we’ve spotted land in the distance, looks mountainous and icy, like Ko-Wahi back home. Might be the northern tip of Voya-Nui.” Macku let out a tightly held breath, before sitting onto the deck facing the ocean, her foot dipping in the saltwater. She reached behind her and pulled out her spyglass, scanning the endless waves. “I think I see it,” she smiled, then frowned, “it looks … thin. Is it really so small?” “No … just the tip … of the island. Its size rivals Mata-Nui.” “Incredible,” she shook her head, “ a whole other island of Matoran. Matoran who have never had the wisdom of a Turaga, or the protection of a Toa. And they live together, not separated into different villages based off their element.” “So Kanohi says.” She sighed, “even for the thousand years before the Toa, we still had the Turaga. To not even have that, not to mention how none of them know of the Titans on their island…” “They have been alone in a way we never knew.” “We know it now.” “They will have experience … to share.” “Yes. And if we can … work with the Titans … we might be able to overcome … the Makuta.” “And someone as large and mighty as the Titans might even be able to use Kanohi’s secret.” “Don’t speak it,” muttered Hewkii, and Macku nodded. The fewer knew what Kanohi had smuggled with them, the better it would be. As far as Makuta knew, Turaga Vakama had told Kapura to hide it. And hopefully the Makuta still thought it was on Mata-Nui. It was the only thing that could stay the Makuta’s hand from destroy the Voya-Suva. After all, the Makuta was a god onto himself, but he was no match for the raw force of time. But it was still unwise to mention it. Not even Toa Nuva Tahu could control its full power, maybe only the Great Spirit or the Makuta could. So Kanohi guarded it, ready to shatter the artifact with the full force of Turaga Whenua’s Drill Staff. And the resulting chaos … the universe would never recover. … Macku and the other Ga-Matoran struggled underwater, pushing the Voya-Suva across the shallows. The others had insisted she just rest, but she could not. She could do this at least, stand united with her fellow refugees in one task. And with all of them working together, the weight was less. In front of the Voya-Suva, the group’s Onu-Matoran and Po-Matoran strained, using their enhanced strength to drag the boat on the mountainous terrain of the shoreline. They meant to drag the boat onto the shore of Voya-Nui, to repurpose it as a crude shelter. It would take time to fully explore the massive island, alone find the Matoran. And then finding the Titans would be another problem altogether. So in the meantime, the Matoran refugees would need a place to hide and escape the predators on this strange island. They have traveled down the coast for a number of days, trying to find where the shore was shallow enough to land on. Finally they had reached such a spot, and had resolved to make it a base of sorts. It helped that landscape was a lot less frigid here. Still the Ko-Matoran remained the Matoran best suited for this landscape, able to endure the cold of the peaks. Kopeke had led a number of them into the icy mountains, to at least do some scouting. Kapura was scouting south, hoping to find a village in the more temperate regions. Hopefully down there, where it would be comfortable for more types of Matoran, there would be the village of the people of Voya-Nui. It would take time, but the Ta-Matoran’s strange speed made him great at trekking vast distances quickly, and he needed to stretch after his time cooped up in the Voya-Suva. Macku looked over to see Kanohi, grappling across the cliffs. The Po-Matoran was using his launcher to sling from ledge to ledge, pausing only to take in the view of the shore. He was watching for danger, as well as scouting the surrounding area. On the shore Ta-Matoran were standing guard, brandishing their bamboo disks and any other weapons they had carried. They were to ward off any Rahi, they could at least handle that. The thirty seven refugees were tired, hungry, coated in grease and saltwater, but they were alive and free, and that was better than most of the Matoran back home. Hahli … Macku prayed to the Great Spirit as she strained to push the boat, please let Hahli’s spirit endure. Don’t let her break. And then as Macku lifted her head to get air, she heard shouts. Her heartlight began to pulse frantically, and her hands trembled. She wanted … wanted to run, but where to? Ga-Matoran or not, on a good day she couldn’t swim long enough to get far away without her leg, and she was too exhausted to swim at all. But those shouts … she froze there, half-submerged. Her hand reached behind her to her throwing disk, pulling free the weapon of bamboo. She … she didn’t know why she clung to it, perhaps it was some old instinct from before destiny went astray. An instinct that Hewkii resurfaced with the Takea. There were more shouts, and the other Ga-Matoran swam away, heading inland. She just … were those cries from Hewkii, Tamaru, Taipu, Kapura, Kopeke, Hafu - even Hahli? They all blended together in her mind, roaring into her face. “Hey—” Macku swung her throwing disk with all her strength, thumping against someone. “Ouch,” muttered a small blue being with a mask that Macku had never seen before, one who held two long blades in her hands, each silver like the weapons of a a Toa Nuba, or the blade that Macku had found on the journey. . “You … you are a Ga-Matoran?” Macku managed as she flopped over, laying limp against the boat. Her chest heaved up and down, as the short stranger eyed Macku’s lower torso. “Yes. I’m a warrior, name’s Dalu. Piruk spotted you sailing in, I came to investigate. Glad to see some of my sisters from across the waves have spirit left in them.” “Not much,” sighed Macku. “Eh, more than most of your crew. Most of them look like they’ll just lying on the shore, waiting for the tide to drown them. While it looks like life has chewed you up, and you aren’t dead. Come on, big sister, let’s get you out of the water. Looks like you need to rest for a century.” The smaller Matoran shoved Macku upright, though she couldn’t stand, just prop against the boat. “But, the Voya-Suva—” “We’ll help you haul it ashore, once you all have had a chance to breathe. And we really need to discuss what happened to you.” “But … the Makuta?” Macku managed as Dalu handed her the crutches. Macku blankly stared at them, then back at the warrior. “Makuta?” Dalu shook her head, “You northerners keep saying that name with such fear, like se’ll sense you by his name alone. Although, I swear I have heard that name before. Maybe it was something Velika said, he’s always muttering stuff that makes no sense.” Shakily Macku stood up on her crutches, as Dalu slotted her bamboo disk back into Macku’s pack. The two of them began to lumber forward, inching their way to shore. As Macku drew closer to the shore she could see Hewkii wave to her, starting to run to her. She shook her head and he stayed back. Mustering her strength she let out a sigh, before wading towards him and the shore. Dalu glanced back and forth between the two of them, then grunted before sprinting off through the water, running to stand guard among some Ta-Matoran. As Macku stumbled ashore Hewkii tried to catch her, before they both collapsed. “Ugh, my body aches all over,” Hewkii shook his head. “I can’t even see my heartlight,” agreed Macku with a bitter laugh, as they lay there on the rough jagged shore. “”Neither can I, it’s so faint.” Dalu grunted and walked back over to them and held out her blades. The air around them seemed to ripple, and then Macku felt … different. Like her metal skin was crawling, and her arms were denser, but somehow lighter. As they stood back up, Dalu stumbled, before walking back to shore. “How … how did you do that?” Macku called after. “My Chargers. Let me temporarily enhance an attribute of a person, Rahi, or object. Can make a Burnak too heavy to move, or make a killer aware of all reality until they go mad. Used them to make your stamina increase. It’s draining to use them, I need to rest afterwards.” “How … how did you get that artifact?” Was it like the blade she had found? “Always had it, long as I can recall at least. Come on, we all need to rest now. Once you’ve told me your stories, I’ll head back, see if we can help haul your boat to shore. Then we’ll worry about hunting down this Makuta.” Macku nodded shakily at the strangely powerful Matoran. If a mere Ga-Matoran could have the power she claimed to have, even with such a weak body, and if Nuparu and Kanohi could upgrade the bodies of these Matoran too, and then build more weapons like Dalu’s Chargers and the electric blade… Macku smiled faintly despite herself. She hoisted herself back up on her crutches, and she and Hewkii followed after Dalu. The two Matoran did not even need to look at each other, both certain that the other felt a tiny glimmer of hope in their heartlights, one that had endured despite everything.

IC: Ardoku - Great Temple The toa of plasma looked at the twilight toa with an expression of immense disbelief. "The will of Mata-Nui?" He repeated, aghast. "The will of Mata-Nui?! Do you think it is the will of Mata-Nui to see his faithful slaughtered, their heads chopped off, to see sanctums built in his honor desecrated and defiled?! The Legion does not operate by the will of Mata-Nui, it works against him! You are utterly deluded to think otherwise!" Ardoku took a moment to breathe, before he realised something... Takadox. He'd heard of him. This toa wasn't deluded... "No... You've been brainwashed." He finally uttered, his eyes changing from outrage to sympathy. IC: Arkius - The Taku The toa of earth sat up on the makeshift bed, looking between Nale and Vashni, before his eyes came to a rest on the psionic toa. "You alright there? That was pretty intense."

IC: Skorm (Ga-Metru) Shaking off his hood, Skorm gave Nixie a grim look. "In a fashion. Evacuate the temple; if you go peacefully-" "Why?!" Skorm looked over his shoulder at the Su-Toa that had interrupted him. "Why? Lord Takadox and the Barraki are ordained by Mata Nui to rule. Your Turaga Dume rejects the will of the Great Spirit. This would have been a peaceful land if he had not been desperate to cling to power; I could ask why you three defy the will of Mata Nui and work with him." He glanced at Ardoku and Tekmo's bared weapons as he turned to face them. "Nobody has to die today. Surrender, and no harm will come to you; I give you my word as Skorm, Toa of Twilight, and soldier of the League of Six Kingdoms." He he took a step back as he activated his wristblades and held his hands open at his side. "Though it appears you have already made up your minds." OOC: @Onaku @Toru Nui @Eyru

Made an article for Kanohi too.

IC: "You mean, from the cube?" Irna whispered back, her brow furrowing, "Or from yourse--" This mother-- Irna turned to face Ostrox, spine straightening up to her full height until she was looking down at the officious little man. "Don't you have better things to do," she said, teeth bared, "than breathe down our necks at all hours?" OOC: @Smudge8 @Toru Nui -Void

OOC: Big shout-out to @EmperorWhenua for helping to write this jam session. IC Kilo-M9 and Stannis | Taku, crew quarters: The Wanderer did not require much time to rest, not that there was much time to begin with. His recuperation was predictable for those who knew him a little: Meditation done cross-legged on the floor, eyes wide open yet unseeing, and gently humming to himself. He had done similar things on the surface of Po-Metru when the Taku first landed, when he fabled toa explored entire canyons with just his thoughts to carry him. Here, in the steel hull of the airship, his mindfulness served to attune his soul and calm his energies. Peace, he sometimes said when asked, was key to maintaining his faith. The unit known as Kilo would have found the toa like thus, sitting on the floor in one of the small quarters afforded to the usual crew of the airship. He seemed comically large for the space that was clearly designed for only one or two matoran to bunk uncomfortably and not a taller than average toa to use for his zen meditation. Stannis may not have been seeing his eyes, but he did know the unit was approaching and stirred only slightly in response to demonstrate he was not unaware. Sufficient resting time has likely passed. Checking status of Toa Stannis. Toa Stannis appears to still be asleep. Movement detected. Toa Stannis is awake. Preparing conversational avenues. Prioritizing mission critical inquiries. Fully recharged, the steel sentinel entered Stannis's cabin. At first the machine took slow soft steps so as to not stir the possibly sleeping warrior, until the toa's movement revealed his awareness of the machine. The machines movements relaxed as it attempted to fit into the far too small room, before settling halfway through the doorway. The same blank stare as always met the toa of stone as the machine began to speak. "If sufficient rest has been obtained, this unit has questions to ask." The old toa stirred slightly more, then, and slowly beckoned the robot nearer. There was not enough room for the two of them in the cramped space, but they could settle on the floor on opposite sides of the doorway between the two spaces. "You may ask," he said, a little gruffly. And then, almost as an afterthought, he said, "But first, tell me what am I to call you." The mechanical guardian lowered itself onto the floor to mirror Stannis. Its deep pre-programmed voice stated, "Citizen Pacification Unit K1R1 Kilo-M9. Short form, Kilo. You are Toa Stannis. Multiple archives records feature your name as a participant in notable events." "Yes, so I've come to understand," Stannis said. "Most of those records are even probably true." "This unit cannot verify historical accuracy of records. Multiple allies have described positive past encounters with you. Data indicates you are trustworthy. One query remains unknown. Mission critical discussion is higher priority. “This unit was performing analysis of device described in memory crystal. Using existing data, this unit attempted to simulate the result of six great discs being used in the machine at once. Simulation was unsuccessful. Unknown results are concerning." The machine paused a moment before continuing. "Specific simulation was selected due to existing data on great discs. Great discs were hidden by Toa Mangai in recent past followed by Turaga Dume requesting them. Neither disc that this unit and allies have obtained are useful combat abilities. If great discs are to be used in device, unknown variable must exist to increase desirability. Variable is unknown." Information dump complete. Asking mission critical inquiry. "Device was described as sabotaged according to memory crystal. What is the nature of the sabotage? Does device retain partial functionality, or is device completely disabled?" The Wanderer ruminated on the matter of Kilo's odes and earnest attempts at helping a bit before responding. While it was true that Kilo was a machine, and machines are bound to their directives, this Kralhi unit was doing something Stannis had not seen before: Connecting. Connecting with its allies, its acquaintances, even with its challenges, and was displaying a sort of intelligence he had not seen in any other of Nuparu's creations. Xian technology sometimes possessed some rudimentary cognitive abilities, but even their most recent generation models were still bio away from attempts at creating diplomatic pathways. Stannis was not sure what to make it of yet, and while he held a reservation about any automaton, even ones possibly imbued with even a hint of sentience by their creator Nuparu, he did realize that Kilo was making every effort to use as much of his processing power to aid the Matoran he came with. Furthermore, Kilo recognized Stannis as a trove of knowledge, and was seeking to understand what the Wanderer knew in hopes of using that knowledge to connect dots none of the truly living beings had thought of, yet. These were sufficient reasons for him to justify indulging the robot as much as he could. "I do not know for certain," Stannis admitted finally. "But the emotions your creator imbued in the given memory were of... resentment, of fear, and of despair. It felt to me he did not want the machine to work at all, but also gave opportunity for someone like Knichou to pick up where he left off, if that were truly Fate's path. Only a skilled engineer could be able to tell that something was missing and be able to fix it. What do you think, Kilo? The same man whose memories we read made you, after all." Accessing memories of the Creator... Scanning for interpersonal behavioral patterns... Memories of the Creator do not match description from memory crystal. This units memories must be outdated. Scanning for connections. After a brief moment of silence save the gears in the machine's head spinning a bit faster, there was a response. "The Creator did not hate people," the mechanical enforcer reminisced. "This unit has no memory of him displaying malice. Quality appears consistent with memory crystal self. The Creator seemed to have made this unit and additional Kralhi with good intentions. His concerns over ethical issues of the device continue this trend. Sabotage would likely be designed to reduce harm rather than seek vengeance. Device likely completely non-functional. Do you agree with this assessment?" The Wanderer was impressed but did not show it outwardly. "I do," Stannis said. "Nuparu was not sure the device he invented was what was best for the world and wasn't able to comfort himself if it was not. To that end, he made certain if it were to actually be used it would not be because he allowed it to be. That is what I believe." Logic analysis has been completed. Question was not directly answered, but analysis of behavioral patterns has produced the most likely situation. This unit is not familiar with this type of logical thinking. Will need to add new process to ProblemSolve.exe The protodermis protector gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Recommended action regarding device is mostly an ethical question. This unit is unable to properly process complex ethical issues. Assigning numerical values is impossible. Proper comparison can only be made against primary objectives. Objectives are too broad for most situations. Will leave questions of device use to allies. Other topics remain to discuss." "Alright, then ask," Stannis said matter-of-factly, keenly aware of the passing of time. "This unit has passively observed your body language since we've met," the machine explained as if it was a normal thing to do. "When observing this unit or when conversation topic is about machines such as the device or Usurpers, subtle aggression is noted in your voice and motions. This unit wonders if you have contempt for it and if so why that is. Logic would dictate that this unit shares similarities to your role as toa, so such aggression seems odd." Stannis hesitated again, but this time it was because he felt... caught, in a sense. If Kilo was capable of reading personality well enough to feel scorned, or somewhat like that, then it was evidence of some higher programming. The Wanderer was not used to this line of thinking—he believed machines were just that, and programmed to do their duties to the letter with utter inflexibility, and for them to consider their place in society and comprehend how others treated them, and furthermore attempt to understand that rationale, was unthinkable for the old man. "You are not like me," Stannis said, however. "You were created to enforce laws of matoran without remorse. Toa are called to serve the virtues of a god. We both protect, yes, but the way we do so is starkly different. Does this make sense to you?" he said. "Your logic is sound," the machine confirmed. "This unit agrees that restraint was not part of its programming. That remains true. However, this unit was not only programmed to uphold matoran laws. Even before the Betrayal, this unit had a primary objective to protect and serve the matoran. This objective is still in place and will remain so. Upholding the law is no longer possible for this unit as you might expect, and has been purged from objectives accordingly. All that remains is survival, efficiency, and protecting matoran." The mechanical enforcer gave the toa a moment to let its words register before continuing. "Did you choose to become a toa?" "I did not," Stannis replied in a thoughtful repose. "Mata Nui chose me to take the mantle, but I only took it when it was right. Tell me, Kilo, how do you determine how to fulfill your directive? And, what do you feel when you achieve it?" The robot answered immediately, "Objectives are to be completed as efficiently as possible. Initial method is selected for safety of matoran and efficiency, as well as this unit's survival. All are important considerations; situations where primary directives conflict will result in prioritization as needed. This unit met current allies while attempting to return them to work stations. After analyzing their goal to obtain disks and become toa, this unit concluded that creating more toa to replace Toa Mangai was more effective method to keep city population safe than returning a small group of citizens to work." Additional long-term goal is needed if current objective of creating toa is no longer available. Identifying possible long term goals... "Completed objectives are properly logged in system memory. Next objective is pursued. If one is not available, unit enters patrol mode identifying objectives to complete. 3 primary directives are incompletable by design: Dangers will always threaten matoran, inefficiency will always be present, this unit will always be at risk of destruction. Progress is always being made and will continue to be. Feelings are not part of this unit's programming." "So you have been helping the matoran because... you felt their creation as toa would be the most efficient way to protect matoran?" Stannis said, sounding honestly surprised at the realization. "That's actually quite brilliant. Now, realizing you are capable of creative thought, and further that you came to speak with me out of what I assume is a curiosity for my insights—and you must tell me if that is not the case—I want to ask something more of you." The Wanderer leaned in slightly. "Would your circuitry have come to the same conclusion of helping them with all your might to become toa regardless of who the matoran were? Regardless of their pasts, skills, personalities, and traits?" The Wanderer might have seen the machine tilt its head slightly, possibly from thought. It may have been a trick of the light though. Eventually, the mishmash of voices spoke again. "During initial contact, this unit came to this conclusion after learning their objective. Only prior information was ally Atamai's job, which was deemed irrelevant in situation. Unit has no memory of why it asked their objective. Had question not been asked, unit likely would have captured them and returned to work stations. Unit was nonetheless compelled to ask them." The mechanical enforcer paused again, gears spinning faster than before. "This unit cannot answer your question," it eventually admitted. "Insufficient data is available. As your explanation assisted with this unit's query, perhaps the information this unit has provided will assist you with determining an answer." "An answer to what?" The Wanderer's own voice echoed back to him. "Would your circuitry have come to the same conclusion of helping them with all your might to become toa regardless of who the matoran were? Regardless of their pasts, skills, personalities, and traits?" The old man's head shuddered slightly from the response. On a basic level he realized the Kralhi was largely incapable of speaking its own words and cobbled sentences from things it had heard before, but even then the turn of using his own words like that was jarring. Perhaps, he realized, it was because the Kralhi valued efficiency, and regurgitating words was simply an example of that efficiency. Nuparu was a truly wondrous man... "Perhaps. And perhaps not. But if you cannot explain your actions' origin then I'm afraid will not understand it any better than you. I will say, however, that if you would help any matoran who said they wanted to become toa, then that is a dangerous synapse indeed. Destiny... takes a person's heart into account, it weighs their intentions and seeks out those who embody the Virtues. You can't cheat fate. Programming, however, I fear, you can." Another voice spoke from the speaker inside the law enforcer's cranial unit. This was one Stannis recognized, though not from someone he had directly met. Rather, the voice matched the one he had heard in the memory prism just a few minutes ago. "The people of this city probably aren't ready for what is to come," Nuparu said. His voice sounded nervous, but there was an enthusiasm that The Wanderer hadn't heard before. "Even I have some doubts this project will work, but the chance to help assist the toa, even by indirectly providing support, is too great an opportunity to pass up. The construction has been a challenge, but I've done all I can to make you and your fellow units as effective as possible." The sounds of tinkering were heard before the voice continued. "People probably aren't going to trust you at first. You're unknown to them, and your purpose while well-intentioned isn't going to win people over. With any luck though, your actions will bring people to your side. People will learn to trust you. You don't have that issue though. You can trust people from the start with no bias, no problems. And if they let you down, you can respond as needed. But please don't forget that these people, no matter what they do or how many problems they cause, are under your protection. Try to trust them, and hope they'll learn to trust you in turn." The familiar tones of the machine's voice spoke once the recording had finished playing. "This unit does not judge matoran by anything except their actions, large and small. This unit does not claim to know how to select proper toa, but all data suggests that improper candidates would be stopped before they became out of control. This unit admits it is lacking in such regards. This unit is very familiar with its imperfections." "Indeed..." Stannis said in awe. "As am I." As an embodiment of stone, the Wanderer was a hard one to impress, and even then harder still to get a reaction from, and yet this robot of all things had accomplished it. No, Stannis realized, it was not Kilo per se as it was not in the robot's ability to forge its own destiny even though it was capable of remarkable levels of thought, but Nuparu, through the wonders of his inventive brain and incredible genius well ahead of his time, had created some automaton which Stannis truly admired. To him, Kilo was an embodiment of genius, conscience, and loyalty. And he remembered again that Kilo did not have to help the matoran companions. It indeed could have simply 'returned them to work functions' and be done with it. And yet, it did not. It, whether by design or corruption of code, asked, and in turn deemed the matoran's quest worth assisting. Kilo, despite his gaffes, was obviously a worthwhile ally, and his creator's words resonated with the old toa. Perhaps, he realized, he had been wrong about Kilo's kind. Perhaps he did not have to understand how they worked to simply... rely on them. "I trust you, Kilo," was all he said. Registering Toa Stannis as "ally" "This unit also trusts you, Toa Stannis," the machine reciprocated. "One final variable remains unknown about you. Analysis indicates you are the only being on this ship that knows the answer." "...What were you delivering to the archives that brought you to Metru Nui? What is in your satchel?" The matter of Stannis' closely-guarded backpack snapped his mind from its technology-marveling trance so quickly it nearly gave him whiplash. His rucksack's contents were one of the primary reasons he came to Metru Nui, after all, and the source of much of his caution if not blatant secrecy. He hesitated, thinking of what to say and not say. Only an instant before he said he trusted Kilo, and so quickly was he coming to terms with that statement's validity. The delivery had also been why he did not surrender to the vahki, for fear of having it fall in the wrong hands, or hands that belonged to a greater network that could be compromised or controlled. But Kilo was not a vahki, nor did he have the same negative traits as the clockwork automatons Stannis observed and detested; he was not compromised and had been steadfastly loyal to his original directive, which the Wanderer also noted. And so, he chose to share what he held so dear with the protodermis guardian. "In brief, what do the stories in your databank say I do?" Pulling up archives data. Scanning for keywords Stannis, Wanderer. Results found. Comparing with accounts from allies. "Archives data contains multiple results. Accounts vary. Majority of results suggest you travel around assisting matoran with solving problems. Some accounts contain records of actions but have no listed objective. Proficiency in combat is frequently mentioned. Far older records indicate a possible team, but accuracy cannot be verified. Similarities exist to fables of wandering travelers lending aid to the downtrodden. Overall, stories of you suggest an overall enigmatic existence, with a generally positive portrayal." Stannis nodded. "It is my goal to help and protect matoran, and I know matoran can be best helped by learning from the mistakes of the past. I'm a historian, so I journal where I wander. For an example, all the fronts of the Barraki war, dossiers on their leaders, military movements, Matoran enclaves and holdouts, and escape routes both used and unused. My rucksack contains intelligence to be used in taking the fight to the Six Kings' home turf. Nobody else knows this." "Logical to keep information secret. Lower chance of leaks. Why deliver to the archives rather than to city leadership or directly to military commanders? Logic does not compute." Stannis shrugged with his open hands. "Put simply, because that's where my friends who use the information are located. The government of Metru Nui is not interested in fighting an aggressive war, and in fact has done so much to cloister the city from the coming war. I do not trust them with my information at this time." "Response indicates you might want a more aggressive approach to the war, yet information has not been sent to commanders at the front. Perhaps more selective strikes are preferred?" "In a manner of speaking, yes, Kilo. Metru Nui is not prepared for the war and I am here to see that is changed, hopefully in time to make a difference, and if not then at least information will be there when the time comes. "We haven't the time to discuss matters of military strategy or philosophies of governance," he said, feeling that they had spoken enough at that point and showing it with a blunt, but not unfriendly, tone. "Perhaps another time. For now, content yourself with the knowledge of what I safeguard and that there is a plan in motion. Did you have any further questions for me?" All conversational objectives have been completed. Further direct communication is unnecessary. Planning for coliseum arrival is needed. The mechanical enforcer shook its head. "All inquiries have been answered. Conversation has been productive. Ship will arrive at Coliseum soon. Recommend meeting with the others before arrival." The machine gave a polite nod to the toa. "Thank you for giving this unit some of your time." "Thank you for asking," Stannis said as he slowly rose from his cross-legged pose. "It was good to get to know you." The two allies headed back towards the main hold of the ship, still fundamentally different, but with a newfound understanding of one another.

I dont wanna derail the thread too much but to answer briefly - definitely possible, and something I would like to get to someday. There's already a mnog mod out there by Nuparu77 if youre interested!

Nope, there's no difference. If we wanted to, we could add more options beyond those two, but there hasn't been a need so far. In theory we could set up topic and forum views to sort by likes or upvotes like Reddit, but we're old fashioned and prefer chronological order.

Sounds like they patched that up nice and quick; my Lesovikk came complete.

I've been thinking it'd be fun to run a Makuta-player campaign using the Red Star Games d20 system. The premise would be six players are makuta trying to take over metru nui. The setting is an alternate universe where Icarax beat Teridax but wasn't able to maintain control of the Brotherhood, resulting in it becoming decentralized. The players would be six Makuta in this organization who for whatever reason want to conquer Metru Nui and then control the universe themselves. They'd have all powers a Makuta has, but for balance Metru Nui is comparable to the Toa Empire Universe in that it's fairly well defended. Also, the team would start on Destral I'd assume. Would this be playable on this site? Should I just get six players together on here then move to roll20? Any interest at all? https://www.redstargames.org/ I could also just use the Red Star Games rulebooks as more of a guide, then we could just have a traditional topic going on this forum. That might work best, honestly. Just let me know if there's interest in this type of campaign and if I could get six people to play.